Spike Spiegel (
gottaknockhard) wrote in
paradisalogs2013-07-11 07:09 pm
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Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Spike (
gottaknockhard), Lucrezia (
heloise), Joshua (
ofhope), Brock (
samson), and Molotov (
molotov)
What: Unfortunate results of cosplay
When: July 7th
Where: Brock's cabin -> Joshua's mansion
Rating: PG
The whole thing had been a pretty funny joke, if Spike stood back and looked at it. The obvious, harmless kind that the castle always takes one step too far.
When he went to the party, he hadn't actually planned on being invested in any of the festivities. His purpose for stopping by had involved curiosity over someone who he really had no right to be checking on, and maybe getting a bite to eat. Somehow that led him to wearing a costume of one of his best friends, right down to the toy knife at his side and a yellow wig that kept him scratching at his neck as it brushed against it. That was awkward enough, but the fact that Lucrezia took his lead and dressed as Brock's wife, just added a few layers.
Regardless, he hadn't needed much convincing when Lucrezia asked him to take her home.
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What: Unfortunate results of cosplay
When: July 7th
Where: Brock's cabin -> Joshua's mansion
Rating: PG
The whole thing had been a pretty funny joke, if Spike stood back and looked at it. The obvious, harmless kind that the castle always takes one step too far.
When he went to the party, he hadn't actually planned on being invested in any of the festivities. His purpose for stopping by had involved curiosity over someone who he really had no right to be checking on, and maybe getting a bite to eat. Somehow that led him to wearing a costume of one of his best friends, right down to the toy knife at his side and a yellow wig that kept him scratching at his neck as it brushed against it. That was awkward enough, but the fact that Lucrezia took his lead and dressed as Brock's wife, just added a few layers.
Regardless, he hadn't needed much convincing when Lucrezia asked him to take her home.
no subject
But he's smiling, regardless, reaching up to hold her hand to his cheek and gazing at her for a moment. The hair, the costume in it's entirety, is seemingly ignored for the moment, at least until he looks to Spike, and to what Lucrezia is talking about.
The costume is familiar, but there's no way he could recall the name of someone he barely knows in this condition.
"You're staying for dinner?"
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She hasn't forgotten about Spike though, turning over her shoulder to chuckle at his attempt at escaping. He should know better than to think this would be a quick drop-off when it comes to Lucrezia.
"He is," so maybe she is hard on him. "But no steak this time, perhaps we should only feed him carrots."
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This definitely isn't where he should be right now. He opens and closes his mouth, stuck at what to say, but stuck either way.
"Isn't it late for dinner?" A steak would be harder to turn down. Carrots though...
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What do you mean it's too late for dinner? What time is it? What day is it? He doesn't know, and he hasn't eaten yet.
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"Whatever you wish," she reaches her other hand to take Joshua's and start walking back. "But you must both stay for the lanterns to wish for everything else the maids cannot fetch."
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Because of course blatantly saying he doesn't want to isn't an option.
In any case, he definitely won't admit to any implied sympathy by him agreeing to go along. If nothing else, he can claim that he was hoping Joshua had a knack for prying a stubborn wig off his head.
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"Your muscles aren't that big...Spike. Why do you two look different?"
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"And my hair is red, like Magdalena," or Jezebel, name any unsavory women of history, but then she probably stands among them even with her usual golden hair. She is laughing it off though. "The castle's doing, surely. We are Brock Samson and Molotov Cocktease tonight. Who will you be, Joshua?"
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He keeps a weary eye on him, though. That whole car ride over, she could have mentioned something else was up. But he won't ask until he catches her alone again. By then he'll have decided if he really wants to know.
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Lucrezia is more soldier than princess, in actuality, for how long she has fought this battle with Joshua and kept her lips sealed.
"Magdalena was blonde, as the Sinners tell it..." Did Lucrezia remember that first story he ever told her? Mary Madgalene and the Sinners, with pillows and tea and nerves on edge. "I don't know any Molotov... Brock, though... Brock Samson."
Another look in the direction of the car, and to Spike over the top of Lucrezia's head, and then a chuckle. "One of my guards." Lucrezia knew, but did Spike? It hardly matters anymore.
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Lucrezia reaches a hand to wipe away the sweat from his brow to make him seem better and try to tame his hair, a lost cause. But her life is made of make-believe, because seeking what she truly wants only leads to disaster, and this tale is one she can still hold on to.
"Molotov is his most beloved wife," she smirks. Isn't it a joke? "She thought me how to punch. You, if you misbehave."
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A second or two passes before he manages to bury it enough to start again.
"I thought you seemed friendly."
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"Oh, that one... What counts as misbehaving?"
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"Punching would count," she moves to rest her arm against his hips and lead him along, reaching her other hand for Spike so that none would be left behind. "Show him what we have brought, Spike. The lanterns."
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"Here," he says, slightly delayed. Pulling out the lanterns he had hooked in his other arm, he holds it out for Lucrezia's hand -- because holding it now seems even more awkward than it did the first time, and it's easily misinterpreted.
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"Did...everyone like the idea?"
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"But some wrote down their wishes while others would wish certain things away. And you?"
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Spike doesn't want to think about it, so he looks away from both of them and keeps his pace silently beside them. Lucrezia is the better one to explain anyway, he never quite pays enough attention.
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"Who knows... Just something I read about once. Maybe to say goodbye."
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"To Colette? And Julia."
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"I've had enough fun for now." It's late enough that he can use that as his excuse if asked. He got her home, that should count for enough.
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One hand reaches out to grab Spike's arm, grip unyielding as the horns have yet to fade. There is a thickness to the air then, almost, as if time is slowing, the oxygen becoming harder and harder for the lungs to find.
But then it clears, and he sighs, while looking pointedly to Lucrezia. At her; into her. "If you didn't meet her...you shouldn't say her name." This could seem to be in Spike's defense, but more-over, Julia is a power that Lucrezia doesn't understand, that Joshua understands almost better than Spike himself. Her memory is a tool he earned through his own actions, and while he usually loves to humor Lucrezia, some things will remain his territory.
His grip on Spike relaxes, then releases, and he walks into the mansion ahead of them. His voice echoes cheerily as the maid waiting by the door turns to follow after him. "Come on, we'll eat s'mores and light these out back."
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The mention was meant less to hurt him than to provoke him into revealing more of himself, even if those go hand in hand. She doesn't want to be outside looking in anymore. When her smile returns, it is carved, cold and hard, but it's there at least, and she even offers him her hand as a peace offering.
"Have you ever had s'mores, Spike?"
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Spike's gaze stays on Joshua as he enters, maybe in part because he can tell Lucrezia has turned hers to him. He answers once he thinks Joshua is out of earshot, like he didn't hear a word they said.
"What's wrong with him?"
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"Colette left." If any fear or sorrow pass across her features, it is quickly replaced with a wry smile to hide them. She fears for him when he is fragile this way, even if his strength shows more clearly now or perhaps he lacks the will to hide it. She doesn't want him to know that sometimes she is still afraid too.
"My father's mistress carries the same name," she means Julia. Giulia. Spellings matter little when she is Lucrezia, Lucrecia, Lucretia. "But most call her La Bella Farnese, for her most divine face."
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