Introducing Benvolio

[keep_the_peace]

Waking up in a strange bedroom, in a strange house, was bad enough, but then when Benvolio finally made his way to the front door he was greeted by snow outside. Summer might be coming to an end, but it definitely is not snow weather yet, nor is Benvolio dressed for such, in his black silk doublet, black and blue trimmed trunk hose, and black stockings. He does have shoes on, thankfully, though he can't imagine how he would have fallen asleep wearing shoes. It's not like he's had much opportunity to celebrate to the point of blacking out lately, after all.

Regardless, he takes one look at the snow outside and decides to shut the door and instead turn his attention to the table covered in different pamphlets and papers. He has many questions.

Comments

[bymyheelies]

He will undoubtedly have several many more in a moment. Mercutio had been on his way outside with Dionysus to go check on the garden, but he stops dead when he sees an incredibly familiar figure in the entryway. It's not another event, is it? Benvolio won't be torn away from him as Tybalt was? He leans in the doorway to the hall, strangely hesitant. There is not the immediate desire to taunt and play as there was with Tybalt, perhaps because he is all too aware of what happened not so long after.

Instead, he clears his throat and if Benvolio turns, he gives him a small wave, fighting to hide the smile that is threatening to burst through.

[sporesprouter]

Tress is passing by the entrance when she pauses to see someone unfamiliar looking at the welcome table. The conclusion she comes to is fairly logical but just in case, it's best to check.

"Oh, hello. Are you new?"

[kadewest]

"You look like you could use a coat," says Kade, coming through the hall and giving the new kid a commiserating look.

[temnota]

Aleksander came in through the front door, brushing the snow from his great coat and stamping his boots on the mat. He caught sight of a young man he had not seen before and took in his unusual clothes and what seemed like utter confusion on his face. "Just arrived?"

[ravkanwitch]

Someone new at the welcome table! Nina doesn't think it's time for another visitor's day, so it must be so. "Hello," she says, friendly. "My name's Nina."

[sagramore]

A few moments later, the front door opens again, and Sagramore and Szarka scurry inside, shaking off the snow that's caught in their hair, beard, and coat, respectively. Sagramore stamps his boots. "Jesu! It's really coming down out there!" he informs Benvolio, before he actually looks at him properly and realizes that he's new. "Oh, hello!"

[chariestmaid]

Ophelia flits here and there these days like an easily-startled deer, diverting her path the moment she hears someone coming. For all that the mansion and its environs make a miniature world, to her it feels impossibly vast, as if she spent her days in Denmark only moving from her closet to the chapel to the lobby to the banquet hall, never venturing outside the palace walls. (She did.)

She could've spent her days in the woods outside her brother's house, and never seen an end to them. The winter weather keeps more people in-doors, and she can walk for hours without chancing on a single soul. She has a vintage Canon camera around her neck, and birdseed in her pocket to lure birds for closer shots. She needn't go to the main house for anything. (She did.)

Like a deer, she freezes when she sees the young man's face. "Good morrow," she murmurs. She moves to curtsy, then abruptly remembers she's wearing over-alls and snowboots.

[summerdude]

If and when the newcomer finds a coat and makes it outside, he will see two figures wrestling in the snow, in the wreckage of a once-grand snow fort, to which a considerable amount of waste has been recently laid. The freshly-falling snow is softening the edges of what surely must have been an epic battle, but the wrestling figures are knocking that new snow down, packing it into the ground.

One of those figures, it must be said, is a griffin, almost fully grown, screeching as she swipes her talons into the drifts. Anyone who can speak animal will understand she's yelling baby kill!! kill mama!!! fake kill!!!! The other, a sixteen-year-old twenty-six-year-old, is shouting with laughter.

[georgianosity]

Blimey O'Reilly's trousers. Or rather, Blimey O'Reilly's lack of trousers, because the new bloke hasn't got any. Just those sort of poncey tights everyone had to wear when they did MacUseless in school. Oh goddy god, could it be MacUseless himself?? Georgia searches for something appropriate to say. "By the pricking of my thumbs," she offers helpfully.