Señor Zorro (Low Activity Blog)

“It’s been raining for days.”

“Looks like the rainy season is finally here.”

“Shall I put on a pot of tea?”

“Turn up the heat/put another log on the fire, the rain brought a chill.”

“Close the window, you’ll ruin the flooring!”

“You’re sopping wet.”

“What on earth were you doing out there?”

“Fine, you can come in, but take off your shoes.”

“I don’t need you tracking mud everywhere.”

“The sound of rain is so nice.”

“You’re going out? In this?”

“You can’t go out there, it’s pouring down rain!”

“I like the rain and all, but being stuck inside is so boring.”

“The day would be a lot less boring if you learned how to sit still.”

“I cannot believe we’re stuck in this!”

“Maybe we should find somewhere to take cover until it stops.”

“Does it ever stop raining here?”

“Oh no! The rain ruined our picnic.”

“Want to go for a walk in the rain?”

“Can I have a blanket?”

“Sorry to intrude. This rain came out of nowhere.”

“Look at the sky! The lightning is insane.”

“It’s getting pretty intense out there.”

“A rainy day, warm blankets, a cup of tea, and a book to tie it all together.”

“Let’s go for a walk in the rain.”

“Here, this should warm you up.”

“Come in here before you catch a cold.”

“Ugh, that’s just a silly old wives’ tale.”

“I pity the poor souls caught out in this.”

“Aren’t there any books to read?”

“Rains smells so different in the city.”

“The rain smells better in the countryside.”

“Nothing like the sound of rain to go with a good book.”

“Careful, the tea is still hot.”

-draws on the fogged up windows-

-Flips loudly through book-

“[Name], you’re bleeding.”

“How long has it been like that?”

“Did you dislocate a finger?”

“You’re slurring.”

“They say you almost died. You left it that late.”

“You’re snapping. Headache again?”

“You’re in a bad mood. Are you in pain?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Hey, why are you walking like that?”

“That’s a lot of swelling.”

“Where did you get that bruise?”

“Whose blood is that?”

“When you say your pain’s ‘4 out of 10′, that’s a normal person’s ‘8 out of 10′. We’re going to the hospital.”

“How did you not notice?!”

“If it hurts, it hurts.”

“I know you can manage it, you just don’t *have* to.”

“Holy shit, how long have you had this?!”

“[Name]? [Name]! Hey!”

“We’re a team. You need to tell me about this sort of thing.”

“That’s … a lot of blood, is that - oh, fuck.”

“Hey! Hey! Stay awake, okay? Stay awake.”

“It would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.”

“You can’t keep hiding this stuff.”

Il faut aller à l'escrime comme on va à la danse; il faut aller à l'escrime comme on va à  la guerre.**

- Émile Mérignac, Histoire de l’escrime (2 tomes), Imprimeries Réunies (1883)

**One must go to fence as one would go to dance; one must go to fence as though one were going to war.

I've kind of touched on this before in noting that while there are plenty of PSAs in the RPC telling you to let villain muses be villains, or to respect powerful muses, I've never seen one besides my own telling you to remember that not every interaction will be deeply meaningful...

... But I think that advisory can be extended further still by also saying there are muses that aren't likely to or simply will not open up to your muse(s) for various reasons.

This is most often true for muses who, for whatever reason, are part of 'the elite' of their original settings; individuals who have had to take on roles of duty or authority and who at some stage may have essentially put on a mask to hide their true nature. That mask might be hostile, stoic, playful, flirtatious, or anything in between. They might even have many masks befitting whatever situation. And whatever mask(s) they have might not ever come off.

For anime muses in particular, you'd better believe they were originally designed by people with a deeply ingrained knowledge and understanding of giri versus ninjō (duty/obligation versus emotion/compassion) as the tension of this dichotomy is a core theme of Japanese culture. Whether you RP them with this consideration in mind is your own business and choice, but if your muse strongly represents that tension, you're probably aware of it to some extent even if you've never heard those terms before.

Muses like this may drop their masks around your muse(s), but they may also not. Whether they do or not is really all about how the two muses fit together. But you cannot a priori expect every muse to open up to yours. If a muse doesn't, it's more than likely nothing personal. And if that muse always seems poised, composed, on the ball, or whatever else, that does not necessarily mean that muse is being roleplayed as flawless, superior, or whatever else—making your muse and even you as a mun feel that way is probably exactly the point of the mask(s) that muse wears.

You should not expect openness or vulnerability to come easily or early in interactions with such muses. In fact, you should not expect it to ever come at all. And if it doesn't, that doesn't mean that muse hates yours, or the mun hates your muse(s), or the mun hates you, or the muse is poorly written. It only means that muse is hard to reach and the mun has decided to be true to that aspect of them.

⍤ : What does your muse’s voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep? 

✍ : What is your muse’s handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?

☕ : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?

⌚ : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?

♿ : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?

☺ : What is your muse’s smile like? Do they smile often?

⚡ : How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?

⚠ : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one? 

☂  : Does your muse like rain?

☼ : Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?

🏨  : How well does your muse sleep?

❤ : What are your muse’s thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?

👓 : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

❀ : What is your muse’s opinion about flower crowns?

♬ : Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?

📐 : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?

♞ : What is your muse’s favorite animal?

εїз : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?

📱 : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

ツ : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?

-

“Ah there is a topic worthy of conversation my dear Senora. It would do me well, I think to find new prints for my library. I had hoped to learn more of the recent sciences but such publications don’t find their way to sleepy pueblos such as this.” A weak hand waved at the plaza around them. “Certainly I can’t be making such long journeys to Monterey,” Diego sighed like he was resigned to living without the pamphlets. “Perhaps I may rouse Bernardo, or press upon my father to select reading for me on his next journey.”

The young Don adjusted his seat in his chair to find something more comfortable. “Please I don’t wish to talk about cutthroats, that is hardly something I should ever hope to see on stage. As it is one can hardly find any sort of peace from him. If he is not about, then people are still talking about him, or his sign is carved into some building or other. To find him on stage also would simply be too much.” Though, inwardly, the caballero did have to admit that it would be rather amusing to find himself adapted in such a way. He wondered if he would be a hero or villain, considering the audience that usually attended such fine theaters, Diego did not hold out much hope for a happy ending for his alter ego on stage.

“I regret to inform you Senora that you’ll be hard pressed to find a theater here in Los Angeles. You will have to travel somewhere far more prestigious than our humble little pueblo.” He sighed, “Oh what I wouldn’t give to be back in Madrid. The opera there is something to behold, truly. The taverna sometimes employs dancers in the evenings, but there is little else to do here.”

Thera lowered her eyes a moment, curbing her first reply; women were not expected to have an interest in sciences, much less any actual knowledge, having such would belie her impression of a lady of leisure. Instead she relaxed in her chair and fluttered her fan once again, though all it achieved was to move around warm air. “What languages do you read, Don Diego? If I encounter anything suitable, I could send it on?”

Who was she to deny anyone, even an indolent noble son, the chance to learn? If that were truly his wish, she could only approve.

The matter of Zorro on stage - or the matter of Zorro entirely - was clearly not a matter of joy, or even excitement as it was in the whisperings of the poorer people and the cursings of the rich. And neither was … Thera fanned herself again, careful not to allow a frown line to form, no matter how small. Her remark about performances had meant to hint at the caballero himself appearing out of the night, but while she was curious, she wasn’t sure what provoked her to speak of it to Diego.

Diego either did not notice, or simply did not care of the manner in which his misunderstanding about El Zorro had been the cause of disappointment. He was still daydreaming about his beloved Spain. The beautiful coastal cities with the fresh sea air, the exotic shops, the opera, even the textiles were far beyond what they had access to in Alta California. He sighed again and smiled like one in a dream. “How does such a wonderfully traveled woman such as yourself find your way to a desert? There is certainly no coastal paradise here, unless what you are seeking is a sleepy land full of sand and herds of cattle I am afraid we will be a terrible disappointment for you.”

Instead of being flattened from the front something slammed into him from the side and carried him away from the danger. Diego felt all of the air rush out of his lungs and slammed him to the ground, the momentum kept him and whatever it was rolling across the pavement and sidewalk until his head cracked against something hard and metal. The young Don was panting hard to catch the breath that had been forced out as he lay on as hard stone-like surface.

Diego’s eyes were squinting up at the towering buildings as they swam in his vision in time with the pounding on the back of his head. His entire guise was forgotten, the fear and confusion on his face real, as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “Donde esta esto?” He managed to nobody in particular. Able to breathe a little better he rolled over and tried to stand up but only made it as far as his knees before stopping again. Diego stared at the man next to him, different, different enough for him to shade his eyes with a hand while holding on to the metal he’d crashed into with the other and squint into the face of his rescuer, “Capitán?” Then again, recalling the man’s struggles with Spanish, “James? Where are we?”

“Are you mad, sir?! standing in the street like that! That vehicle would’ve surely killed you– ”  He began without looking at the man, rather glaring toward the crazy driver that did not stop to check on the pedestrian he nearly ran over but rather continued to speed away .

But the Spanish dialect and the questioning voice that spoke, the familiarity – HIS NAME.  Those neon green eyes widened turning to gaze down at a face he’d lost centuries ago.

“ No. It can’t be.. ”  a small, yet confused expression..

But it was! Before him was … “ Diego???.. Good Lord, it – really is you?” James was the same but James WASNT the same.   Those eyes were far too bright to be the sea-foam green he was used to, and he was much more pale than the man under the Caribbean sun.

He clung to this one familiar thing. “I…do believe so.” He said and failed to inject even a measure of cheer into his tone. All of the world was too bright at the moment and so the changes within James were unnoticed as Diego accepted the hand that hauled him effortlessly up to his feet.

Again the young man looked at the world around him. The mechanical things continued to rush by spewing smoke and rumbling like beats. Now, though, he could see that they were vehicles of some sort. Though they may as well have operated on magic for all that he could divine about them. The buildings towered so high they likely reached the very heavens, and the people, so many people all in one city. “Yes… yes home seems very far away.” It was with a rather dazed expression that he followed his friend off the street and into one of the many towering buildings.

Almost all the shows and movies end as soon as Alejandro learns Diego is Zorro. We don’t see them reconciling and rebuilding their relationship. We don’t usually get to see Alejandro learning to appreciate Diego the way he is before finding out about Zorro.

Zorro had no doubt that there was a woman involved at the center of the fatal fight. It might, he decided, be a good idea to ensure that the new man did not endanger the young men and women of Los Angeles. In the same vein, perhaps a vital lesson had been learned that would prevent such behavior in the immediate future.

Ah, if only he could be so lucky.

The water that the American offered was accepted gratefully and he sipped, letting it settle the nausea. “Tomorrow I’ll have to return home…my father must be out of his mind with worry.” Which reminded him of a point her had meant to bring up before. “Why aren’t I at home? Surely it would be better to have called a cart and call my father’s doctor than stay here in a cave – though please, don’t think I’m ungrateful I only… something is not right here.” He sighed and began to shake his head, stopped when the world threatened to spin and tip him right off the precarious log and then stopped, held up a hand in a gesture that the helpful stranger give him a moment.

questions best asked for those who portray canon characters, and for those who’d like to get to know the author behind said canons better.

What made you pick up this character?

How did you get into this franchise/fandom?

What’s the best thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

What’s the worst thing about the show/series/books/comics/etc.?

What’s the best thing about the fandom?

What’s the worst thing about the fandom?

What’s the best thing about the canon you are writing?

What’s the worst thing about the canon you are writing?

Have you tweaked the character from canon? If so, what did you tweak?

Would you say that your portrayal is canon divergent or not? 

Are there some things you dislike about how the show/series/etc. portray the character you have picked up? If so, what?

What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

Are there any other characters from the franchise you’d like to play?

Are there some characters from the franchise you can’t stand? 

What are your thoughts on the canon ships for the character, if any?

What is your personal ship bias for your canon character?

Are there any ships you can’t stand, why?

How long have you been writing the character?

Should people get into the franchise your writing from, yes or no?

If you could sum up your character with one sentence, what would it be?