Introducing: Mercutio

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio is lying on a very plush couch. It is not where he was, that is clear enough. This is nothing like a tavern, certainly nothing at all like Verona. Even the lights are strange-looking, not flickering or dancing like flame. Is it some kind of faerie-land? Without doubt, it is not any sort of heaven or hell he has read of, though he knows well he should be dead. The lingering blood on his extremely thin, gauzy shirt is proof enough of that. Strangely, he is no longer bleeding, but that only makes it easier to rise from his bed and proceed to look about the room.

Eventually, he makes his way through the house, poking in various rooms until he finds his way to the main foyer. He opens the door and stands in the entrance, examining the gardens and forest beyond; before deciding that it is unreasonably cold outside. There's more proof, then, that this is not Verona, it had been the middle of summer when he had been fighting Tybalt. He shrugs, and proceeds to rifle through the papers at the table, not exactly reading or retaining anything on them. Clearly there are inhabitants, but he hasn't seen any of them yet. A queer faerie-land, indeed.

Comments

[futaille]

He laughs. "Ah, well-played. I will not impugn your sense of nonsense any further."

[bymyheelies]

"O? Wouldst not duel me?" He's teasing, clearly --but it also might be a playful challenge. "Dost fear I would win?"

[futaille]

Oh, that's an entirely amused grin. "Just because I decided I wouldn't impugn your skills at nonsense doesn't mean I think they'd match mine."

[bymyheelies]

He is grinning back, playfully bouncing almost like a puppy. “O, ‘tis a challenge. Good sir, give me leave to settle myself and I shall show thee my worrh.”

[futaille]

"Oh, have all the time you need. I assure you my nonsense isn't going anywhere."

[bymyheelies]

"Excellent." He gives a brief, amused flourishy bow, and grins. "Until then, good sir."

[futaille]

"Until then. I'll look forward to it."