[OPEN]

[heirring]

WHO: Wysteria, Marcoulf, Flint, and/or Fitcher & YOU
WHAT: Open log for Wintermarch
WHEN: Now
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Mix of open and closed prompts; some threads closed to first come first serve and/or contain a few different prompts. Want something specific but don't see it here? Hit me up on discord/plurk/PM/the astral plane, and we can figure something out (or just toss me a wildcard starter if that suits your fancy; I'm pretty flexible). Action brackets aokay if you prefer it over prose.

[see comments below for character specific starters]

Comments

I refuse to type 'wicked grace face'

[unshut]

"Yes, I see it now. In fact, I should be quite sharp with you for not remarking on it during the production so I might have context for the thing." She shoots him a sidelong look, less cutting due to her grin. For a prodigious gambler, Madame Fitcher's poker face is rather poor. "But I suppose I can allow that there was hardly time or opportunity. And the silks were charming even without."

Charming. That's a word for the barely there, laced tight 'garments' the actors had been poured into.

"Maker. It's a shame Satinalia isn't for months yet."

coward!!!

[cozen]

That was, depending on perspective, exactly the right or exactly the wrong thing to say. He lights up, steps ahead of her to twist and walk backwards, talks with both hands.

"We must. You must promise me. Not the silks; I would die. But the masks."

[unshut]

"Not the silks? Then what good is it. Honestly, Monsieur Val Royeaux. Your lack of commitment is might almost be demoralizing were I a more delicate woman."

This all said breezily as she trails along behind (before) him.

"Which petichérie chat would you like to be?"