#perfectblackrose

the chill still remained in the air. aside from her first clothing trip months ago with nier, most of the ensembles fit the warmer season. even if she did adjust well to the climate of different islands–(which was easily forgotten in the middle of a battle)–it didn’t change the fact that the cold was still...well, cold. at the thought and an invisible breeze, she wraps part of her mantle around her form slightly, eyes still focused at the winter fashion on display in the window. 

Given up on looking through the abandoned collection of old books, he listened to the storm on a red-cushioned wooden chair turned away from its table. One leg rested over the other at the ankle, knee turned to the side, and one elbow was propped up on its armrest. With the side of his head tilted against the upturned hand, he planned to wait out the noise. It wasn’t like he could concentrate well otherwise.

What followed was someone’s adjustment of the wide wooden panel Dune had loosely placed in front of the room’s great hole of an entrance. It had been meant to keep out the gusts rather than people, so it wasn’t a surprise someone had seen past it. Another body passed through, much less fortunate than him in staying dry. 

One of them hadn’t changed at all since their last meeting. The familiar face earned a crooked smile. 

“It’s been a while. Not enjoying the weather?”

Exploring the resident area of Fibonacci Ward, Waka soon found himself in a rather strange, yet interesting setting. As far as the eye could see were parts and machinery from who knows what, along with various beings putting them together to create strange and new things. The whole affair reminded him strongly of his home, and of the various inventions the Moon Tribe created as their society advanced.

As he moved about, blue eyes scanned the area for any materials that appeared to be covered in symbols and other markings which had a neon blue glow to them. This would indicate that they were a part of Moon Tribe technology, and that was something the prophet wanted to get his hands on. If he could, then he would try his hand at recreating one of his people’s inventions. Of course, without the right blueprints it would be difficult, but not completely impossible.

“Bartisu!”

And with that the last Automata Holmes can see was destroy as he taking this moment to light his pipe and get to some old habits.

He don’t get to often do this. Da Vinci always complain about the smell and having master or Mashu coming into his room while it’s smelling less then pleasant would be rude. He isn’t living in Baker street with Watson after all.

But this is nice. Even after becoming a servant there something about him that never will change. He put down the pipe as he raise his speaking volume.

“The area dangerous around here. I would suggest for you to leave when you can. We are after all in war.”

If she hurried, he’d probably still be there. Intuition told her this body was capable of teleporting on its own, and a trip through a keyhole later, she stood in the living room. No one was in sight.

Opening her mouth to call for him, Setsuna froze. How would Love or Lala feel if they discovered some stranger had shown up inside? Even with K’horii’s game, a normal route would have been to knock on the door and wait... 

So, she started stealthily moving through the house in search of her own face.

Setsuna, this is worse.

   The ice sculptures in the crystal palace are as lovely as those out in Fibonacci; a smaller dose of beauty in what is altogether a beautiful showpiece. A whole palace made of ice... He’s never seen anything like it, but he can only hope it’s fitting for a gentleman like him to be in such a fancy place. Someone who tries to be a gentleman, anyway.

It seems like there’s a lot to see, and there’s a chiming sound nearby tempting him to follow, but for now he’ll keep viewing these sculptures to see if there’s anything that stands out compared to the other ones he saw. At least it doesn’t seem he’s alone in doing this.

❥ Love halted on her tracks as a particular hue of orange caught her attention. Of course, it would have, honestly, orange marigolds aren’t a kind of flower you see every day back in Japan. Going out to visit a greenhouse may have proven to be a nice idea after all. 

The object that rolls across the floor towards Lothric’s foot is some kind of weird capsule with text printed on it neatly (surely an accomplishment of the city’s impossible technology level).  Lothric picks it up and briefly examines it.  Its owner seems distressed at having dropped it, so he somehow manages to refrain from opening it and investigating further.  He gets the fellow’s attention and offers it back.