http://singlesoledjest.livejournal.com/ (
singlesoledjest.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2007-09-23 09:10 pm
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Yo. Mercutio is sitting crosslegged by the fireplace, staring into the fire. One hand is tossing and catching a dagger - he doesn't seem to even be looking at it.
He's humming very quietly, a Veronan children's song.
He's humming very quietly, a Veronan children's song.
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He smiles a little.
"A cradle song."
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He shrugs.
"Shot through with unpleasantness. Life generally is."
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His life isn't overly bad, but not exactly perfect.
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He sheathes the dagger and flops onto his back.
"From whence dost thou hail?"
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"You're a very odd man, did you know that? I'm from Venice."
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He grins.
"Ah, Venice. Pretty boys always come from Venice."
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"I find that Rome has the prettier girls."
Sadness, he had hoped for at least a blush. Giovanni looks like he might blush.
"Mercutio of Verona, by the by, at thine service."
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"Giovanni Bruni", he returns. "Pleased to meet you."
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"So, pretty boy, what year dost thou believe it to be?"
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"1753", Giovanni tells him. "And you?"
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Oh, this is quite interesting.
"What has happened to Verona dince I died, dost know?"
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Of course Giovanni knows the feud. Its echoes reverberated from one side of Europe to the other, when Mercutio was alive.
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"The feud... the feud was brought to a peace. The leading families both lost their children, and settled it in their grief."
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He looks at the fire.
"It was poised to tear my city apart."
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He rolls onto his stomach.
"Words are important."
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He smiles slightly.
"How else is a city to be broken bu through words? Nothing can be official until it is spoken and written."
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He looks at the fire.
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"So, art dead?"
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