milliways_bar | (no subject)

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"Reconfigurations?"

It doesn't take long for the Knight to turn the options down. The changes to the bar itself are big enough. Besides, there are other changes he's been pondering.

So now there's Duck, who is to Princess Tutu as Fakir is to him. But why? What purpose is Tutu going to serve? And if Duck wasn't born to be Tutu the way Fakir was born to be the Knight, how did things come to this state? In any case, it's clear that Tutu will become a permanent part of his life, probably along the lines of an "every spring" visitor until even that is not often enough for her and Siegfried.

He tries not to let himself stew in the unfairness of it all.

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There's a person in a cloak standing at the bar today, deliberately selecting their Cubefall transformation. Anyone observing closely would recognize that they shrink a bit after touching the vid screen, but there are a lot of people messing around due to the holiday.

This one in particular gained some very nice legs. Some very nice, wobbly legs. So the first thing she does with them, of course, is to take three steps and slam right into a table, tipping her backwards.

"Oww... Sorry, I'm--" she squeaks, and gasps when she realizes who's sitting there. Horrified, she releases her shaky grip on Lohengrin's knee and then bonks her chin on it during the rest of her fall to the floor.

Oh my goodness, she thinks, rubbing her aching hip, I'm as clumsy as Duck.

Unfortunately for her, the navy blue blazer which is just a bit too big is probably a dead giveaway.

The Knight firmly grasps the hand on his knee.

"This is the second time a clumsy girl has run into my table," he comments.

It's while he's getting up and attempting to pull her to her feet that there's a flicker of recognition.

No. It couldn't be.

"Ah-! I, um, thank you, but I'll be fine--ack!" she says, and sags on her useless legs, clinging to his wrists. "Thank you! But I should go!"

Oh, no, why did I wear this! I figured the cloak would be enough!

Whoever this girl may be, something about her isn't right. Coincidence about appearance aside.

"Are you all right? You look faint."

Faint is the right word for it. Terrified could be another.

"Yes, I'm fine," she says, and clutches the hems of her cloak together in a whitened fist. "Just unsteady. But I'll be all right. Really! I should just"--and here she glances up the stairs--"get to my room."

"You're not hurt, are you, Lady?"

Lady? he thinks, bewildered. You don't... you don't recognize me. Really?

"Er," she says, flushing a little at his question. "I am, I guess?" I smacked into a table.

"But I'll be fine! Really, I will be. I won't bruise much, I promise. So, um, I can let you go now," she says, and that flush explodes across her cheeks as she lifts her hand from his glove and places it on the table.

"I'll just, ah, head up to my room now," she says, and drags a chair out to use as a crutch. "So, um, thanks again!"

"Just a moment," he says. "You wouldn't happen to have a brother, would you?"

"Nope!" she says as cheerily as she can manage, ignoring how the chair jerked to a stop right in front of her against her will.

"Really? You look like-"

Ah. Reconfigurations. Suddenly the Knight steps over and takes the chair back.

"Forgive me. I haven't been terribly kind to you, Lady. I haven't even properly introduced myself."

He takes her hand again and bows over it. He's smiling too hard to attempt kissing her knuckles, though.

She squeaks, nearly tipping over again as he takes the chair--which Autor considers to be the real unkind part--but thankfully he catches her by the fingers.

Ah.

Using her lips, Autor grins back with all the haughtiness he has in him. Then she leans over and whispers, "Were you looking for another taste of my right hook, sir Knight?"

Edited 2013-06-04 20:51 (UTC)

"Now, you shouldn't speak so coarsely, Lady," the Knight replies, standing up straight again and placing his other hand on top of hers in his grasp. "Those words are unbecoming for such a delicate creature, as is that blazer that threatens to consume you."

Autor laughs as she, too, straightens, and she's surprised that it's so lyrical. "I am not delicate."

Wait, he thinks, momentarily panicked. What if he's right, and I am? I probably can't punch him as hard!

"And I'm not concerned with becoming becoming, either," she says, thoroughly agitated. And blushing. And agitated because she's blushing.

She'd make a rejoinder about his comment on the blazer, but she's steadfastly ignoring the dizzying fact that the Knight is much taller than she is, when they were once they same height.

He chuckles.

"Do let me know if you get any trouble."

Besides what he's doing, that is.

"Trouble?" Autor says, and turns her head, which tosses her hair unintentionally. "Me? I don't know what you could possibly be referring to."

She releases her cloak to pat his hand twice, and tries to disengage from his grip. "I really should get up to my room. You're right about the blazer, and I'd prefer it if people didn't recognize me straight away."

"Joking aside," Lohengrin says as he releases her hand. "If something should happen, well, no one should have to have any trouble here."

Autor cants her head, peering curiously at him. "Okay," she says quietly, resting her fingers on the back of her chair. "I will. Thank you, Lohengrin."

Wait, what? the boy thinks, confused. I'm not that delicate.

She inclines her head and tries for a one-handed curtsy, and then grins at him before slowly making her way to her room.

The Knight brings his chair back to his table and sits down with a sigh. A moment later, there are footsteps and the woman he saw taking care of Autor before is following the boy turned girl up the stairs.

Good. At least someone who's actually a woman can help him...her...whatever Autor wishes to be called.

"What a strange holiday."

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