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[fiendsoncue.livejournal.com]

At the bar, at whichever time she should happen to pass it, there will appear a rose with a note attached for Blodwen Rowlands.
Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!
The rose is near unnaturally pale. The Ghost appreciates the value of being thematic. So it is an almost translucently bluish-white flower supported by a near-black stem that appears for her, sharp thorns hooked cruelly. The note, in blood-red ink, is attached with silky black ribbon, and addressed to the White Rider.

Mrs Blodwen Rowlands,

You have certainly made quite an impression in the last week or so.
Perhaps some might consider it impressive, though you seem to be experiencing
difficulty in deciding which cliche you personify. The parts of wise motherly
mentor and scheming queen of darkness are not intended to be a dual role in
the great performance of life.

There is such a thing as being overdramatic, you know.

Keep it in mind, for the sake of those that observe.

Yrs sincerely.
The Opera Ghost

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!

Comments

[white_flowers]

And she does pass by, eventually. A swirl of cold wind blasts the air as Blodwen comes into the room through the lake door, and as she pauses near the Bar, the rose materializes-- and the note as well.

Ice-blue eyes narrow in fury as she reads it, but then the White Rider begins to laugh, soft and cruel with malice.

A few minutes later, another note is left in care of the bar. Written on cloud-white paper with the darkest of India inks, it is attached by a gleaming silver ribbon to a small wreath of roses woven together with reeds. A scholar, perhaps, might be intrigued by the symbolic significance of "virtue's reward" combined with "music's imprudence." There is no color at all to the flowers or the reeds themselves, as they are formed from purest ice, diamond-bright and unmelting.

Dear Ghost:

Why, cariad, but I had not realized that my quiet existence here had drawn the attention of a so-clearly frustrated artist such as yourself! A compliment it may be, I do suppose, that you would take time from your own burgeoning work -- for you are working on something, are you not, and not simply observing where you cannot create?-- in order to direct me.

A shame it is that I have never truly cared for such music, then.

Do take care, dear - but should you ever choose to do something besides observe, perhaps we will meet.

With all deserved respect,
Mrs. Rowlands.