#cloudbankclothier

[reisz-sybil]

cloudbankclothier answered: THE RUSH. EveryTHING HAPPENS AT onCE! THE YEAR STARTS TO DIE IN A BLAZE OF RED AND ORANGE GLORY! and under the cold dead ashes something begins to germinate… 

You have your... ah... inspiration at work, I see.  Is this a hint as to your new line, perhaps?

[royces-paintbrush-blog]

Troublesome Tailory

Royce hums to himself as he impatiently waits for Darzi to attend to him, the man was supposed be fitting him up for a suit. He'd been invited to an occasion and fancy clothing was a requirement to attend. He pulls over a chair and grabs a magazine from a pile of presumably ANCIENT magazines.

'Why does Darzi have so many they're set back to prehistoric dates' Royce wonders to himself as he flips through the pages; this particular magazine was nothing but dresses. Numerous dresses in all sorts of styles and colors, some of which were a bit too... Sparkly for his tastes.

He hopes no one at the event wears something like this, he might puke if they do. "Are you done in there yet Darzi? I think I might just drop dead if you keep me waiting here.. I've started to think you just don't want to design a suit for me."

[ameliaovc]

♚

♚ - a memory of something paranormal

In the cracks between time and space she plans each Jaunt() and Mask(). The Transistor, normally far too heavy, seems feather-light with each movement, and tugs on her fingers. With each flash of blue she feels it jerk her into place, hands moving with far more skill than she could hope.

Amelia isn’t skilled with using weapons, and never has been. She could never hope to heft the Transistor with some sort of prowess.

It wields her instead, and with each Function set-up the knowledge of how to use them plants itself in her memory. The knowledge that some sort of vague sentience lies within the blade meant to build a city seats a vague unease deep in the hollow of her stomach.

Is it only that it needs human hands to help it accomplish its work?

[ameliaovc]

✈

✈ - an eye-opening memory

“You can see? Really? Hello, Sybil.” Damp hair sticks to her cheeks as she stares down into flat red, full of intelligence that flickers with the woman’s response.

“Hello, Amelia. You look lovely.” There’s more life in that voice than she’s heard for most of the trip. With a smile she pulls the Transistor more upright.

“Don’t think about Royce. I don’t care whether he experiences this or not. You, however, get the view.” Now the former reporter swivels the sword on its golden prongs to give a view of herself and the apartment. Something in Amelia’s heart leaps as she gathers the Transistor in her arms and steps over to the window. “Say hello to Aelland?”

Listening to the inhale, then the soft sigh from the woman in the blade makes something ache in her chest. She can hardly deny it to herself, even though everything about the situation is impossible. After all, what can Amelia do to profess that she cares for a dead woman? And even if Sybil doesn’t reject her (on the very valid grounds of not sharing those feelings or on the fact that she’s not alive), they’re most likely not going to make it through this adventure.

“It’s lovely. You’re lovely.” The former Camerata member gives a choked chuckle as she gazes out. Something splinters behind the barrier of Amelia’s ribs as she breathes in an aching breath.

There’s nothing to do about it. It would be best not to let her partner in the Transistor know about her feelings.

Even so, her mouth runs away with her before she can reign it in.

You should be the one on the outside, really. Can you see those stars shining for you?