(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

There is an Yrael in the bar, tonight, though you may miss him if you are looking for the standard albino-young-man-dressed-all-in-white.

There is an albino young man who looks much like Yrael at the bar, tonight, but he is dressed in a dark green shirt with a white jacket, and black dress pants. It is a new thing, owning clothes. Yrael fears he may have to learn how to use an iron, someday soon.

But the newly clothes-owning not'cat is not very happy, tonight. He came home yesterday to find his corner in near shambles: his books in disarray and his other things jumbled about. His copy of the Oxford English Dictionary had actually fallen upon his violinstrings, and had snapped three of them.

He is seeing to his violin right now, restringing it. Do come welcome him home and try to dissuade him from the belief that torching the damn clock would be the best course of action.

Comments

[mogget_cat]

"No, for truly we were meant to be sisters," He puts a hand to his brow, dramatically.

"And I have been sneaky longer than even your language has existed."

[balletrat]

And what a terrible time that must have been to live through, *Meg says, eyes wide,* you poor thing.

*Meg cannot imagine a world without French!*

[mogget_cat]

"Yes, yes. It was horrible." He covers his eyes.

Were Meg not dead, Yrael could take her to a world without French. Or France, for that matter.

[balletrat]

*But would Meg want to visit such a tragically benighted world?*

I'm glad, *she says, seriously,* that you made it to the golden age.

[mogget_cat]

She may, if she likes that style of dress.

"As am I. It has given me another language with which to sound horrific."

[balletrat]

*. . . point.*

All you need is a little practice and you'd sound better than in any other language.

[mogget_cat]

He grins, shaking his head. "If you say so, Meg."