[ with weyland in nyc ]

[tragic_mask]

They step through the door, and find themselves on the cracked sidewalk outside of a lively bar. A sign glows: "Blue Owl."

It's nighttime, but the city still glows with all kinds of light, and shakes with the noise of honking, shouting, music, the clinking of glasses, all blending together into the cacophony and symphony of the city.

Melpomene looks around. "Well, we're back... Right where I started."

Comments

[tragic_mask]

"See, everyone has their thing. I dance, you fight and sing. Et cetera." The only word for what she does next is giggle. The alcohol speaking, clearly.

[mechanicalswans]

"We are a movie musical just waiting to happen," he says with a grin. "But a costume epic, though. I think it would be too big a story to fit in modern constraints. You would play a... a queen, on some island in the Mediterranean somewhere, and I would be the commander of some fleet that was temporarily seeking harbor on your island en route to attacking somewhere else. But there would be musical numbers, and I would wind up distracted from the whole invasion plan."

[tragic_mask]

She shakes her head. "That's been done already. By me, in fact. But without the music. And I don't know how good of a musical it would make..."

[mechanicalswans]

"End the story before the tragic part happens," he says, "and it would be a perfectly good musical. No West Side Story with boats--I don't know how well it would adapt to being a comedy, but with the fire of the singing and dancing maybe no one would notice."

[tragic_mask]

She laughs. "Yes, maybe if we do it with enough enthusiasm, no one will notice that no one is lighting themselves on fire. We could have a sword fight number, though."

[mechanicalswans]

"A sword fight is a given," he says, "it's just a question of how to play it. Serious? Epic? A bit campy, perhaps? People tend to forget, but I was a very good fighter, and still am. I could do anything Errol Flynn could do, but without help or special effects. Of course, special effects make it more exciting."

[tragic_mask]

"I think we'd have to call in my sister to direct... I'd always be turning down ideas for being too silly."

[mechanicalswans]

"I will do exactly as I am told," he smiles. "Whatever ideas you and she think are appropriate, I would be willing. Though I would prefer not to wear tights, if at all possible--I don't like the feel of them."

[tragic_mask]

She goes wide-eyed. "Oh, but now I can't get that image out of my head!"

[mechanicalswans]

"At least imagine me with a tunic on over the tights," he says with a quiet chuckle. "I am already getting cold from your imagination, I can feel it. We must be decent, now."

[tragic_mask]

"Of course," she says somberly. "I must keep my imagination sensible just in case it leaks out into the real world."

[mechanicalswans]

"Also, then I would be free to imagine you," he says, "and I can tell you it would not involve tights. And that would lead to certain mayhem, and we can't have that either."

[tragic_mask]

"We can't? Is it against the rules or something?"

[mechanicalswans]

"There's a list of things we can't have, and that's on it, right after 'soup with salad' and 'a game of Marco Polo in the bathtub.' It's just one of those things, I'm afraid."

[tragic_mask]

"You're just a stiff old man, that's what you are. Stopping me from exercising a healthy imagination." She pouts.

[mechanicalswans]

He eyes her, mock-sternly, before giving a sigh. "Fine, then. You may imagine as you please, but remember that when you do, I will also be imagining. And my imagination is involving feathers and diamonds..."

[tragic_mask]

She makes a face. "Fair's fair, I suppose."

[mechanicalswans]

"You'd look beautiful in feathers and diamonds," he says, "but then I can't imagine anything you wouldn't look beautiful in. Maybe a pencil costume, but how often would that come up?"

[tragic_mask]

"Only in the imagination, I'm sure," she says, wrinkling a brow. "If we're going to dress me up as a writing utensil, I prefer the quill. Not that I'm supposed to be making requests."

[mechanicalswans]

"Feathers and diamonds," he says with a smile. "Though you'd need very pointy shoes, to be a quill, yes? If we are ever invited to a 'come as what you work with' costume party, you're all set, whereas I would have a string of highly unfortunate choices."

[tragic_mask]

"It couldn't be that bad. You could come as..." Pause. "A very large sheet of metal." She winks. "Clever, eh? Bet no one else would think of that."

[mechanicalswans]

"I'd have to go on a diet first, though," he says. "I think I'm too three-dimensional to be a convincing sheet of metal. But I would be very shiny, and people could stick magnets to me."

[tragic_mask]

"Yes, you'd be a hit. People at parties are always secretly wishing they had a place to put their magnets."

She swings her legs, idly.

[mechanicalswans]

"It depends on the parties," he says. "What I remember of mine, I'm usually wishing for either pockets or more drinks. Magnets could help with both of those, in a roundabout way."

[tragic_mask]

She raises a brow. "If you say so."