#dancingdeath

[bonecarvedquiver]

Well, he promised, and he can't help but blush a bit, even though the large, somewhat flat package in his hands is fully wrapped. This was either a huge mistake or the best idea ever. "Um, mein Perigrine? Merry Christmas. Here's zhe present I promised you, if you vant it."

“Of course I want it. I’m greedy and I like gifts.”

Grinning wildly at his dry sense of humor, he takes the gift. But as he does, he leans in close, giving a low, pleasing rumble of a growl of thanks. Enough to breathe into the man’s ear. Just enough to potentially make him flush or squirm.

“It’s not every day a Prince gives a commoner a gift. But I guess commoners have to make offerings to royalty, so, here.”

Still exuding his smarmy, impish charm with his well placed words, he hands him a package as well. It’s a gift bag, not a wrapped present. It’s weighty, but not heavy, and its contents smell good. 

He goes about opening his gift. He knew Karl promised him a gift, and he had told him that nothing was necessary. But Karl was a stubborn man, so he knew he’d do it anyway. 

[zehypocriticaloath]

A timely occasion for you to give ein small kaffe lecture, bruder dear. I brought you some. :offers a jar of instant Sanka with a ridiculously cheeky grin:

It takes everything in his power to keep himself from grabbing the jar and chucking it the nearest teammate. It’d probably bean someone whom he disliked. The chances of that were quite high these days.

Staring at the jar with an almost deadpan expression, he coyly asks, “what is this? What is this that you’ve brought me?”

Oh, Karl knew damn well what he had brought him. That sly sonuva-swan. 

[friedrichsteinkopf]

Goodness but the American postal service is inept. This poor little package looks like it's been everywhere from Bangkok to Timbuktu before it arrived the few miles from Coldfront to Friedrich's house. Inside is a neat case full of cello upkeep supplies- new strings, fresh lumps of rosin, polishing cloths, things like that. There is also a letter enclosed full of what can only be called neatly restrained brotherly affection, and wishes for a good holiday.

Steinkoph is as he always is- slow to respond to anything,difficult to reach. His apartment is usually locked, and the lights dimmed, so it’s never certain whether or not he’s ever home.Until one day, a similarly large package arrives on Karl’s doorstep, full of odds and ends- comfort foods, new dancing shoes, and a letter with cordial, apologetic well-wishes.Karl might not think much of it, unless he reads the letter several times.He may come to realize it contains a carefully hidden code.“HELPNEW MEXICO BADLANDS”

[zehypocriticaloath]

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

“I could kill you now, if you want. If you think that’ll do the trick. I just sharpened my Vita-saw.”

Aldous Haswell pinned the older Medic with quite the withering stare. His expression said it all: no joking, no sarcasm. He was serious. Perhaps not about killing him in all actuality, but he was determined to get the man to GO TO BED.

Crossing his arms, he stood resolute before the man, blocking Karl von Blau from whatever it was he was trying to do in order to stall the idea of sleeping. Yes, he had visited the Medic from the BLU base, knowing damn well some triggerhappy mercenary could attempt an attack, even during ceasefire. But he risked it because his brother alerted him to Karl’s lack of proper rest.

“So? What will it be?” Raising an eyebrow, his stare intensified. “Dying? Or sleeping?”

Perhaps he was serious about killing him. One could never quite tell when it came to him and his mind.

[zehypocriticaloath]

Zhere vunce vas a girl named Lenore, Und a bird und a bust und a door, Und ein guy with depression, Und ein whole lot of questions, Und zhe bird always says "Nevermore." :cheeky grin:

“N–Nevermore, Nevermore!”

Lenore, the petite little leucistic raven (cursed with genetics to fail in the wild, saved by a ‘madman’), hopped up and down, beak parted in amusement at the silly, skinny man’s little poem. She liked this man. He smelled nice. And he moved like a wisp on the wind; delicate, and graceful. Like a geist, or someone who flitted, dancing the lines, between life and death.  

“Karl,” it croaked out, eagerly flapping over to him. She perched on his shoulder, taking a moment to rub the flat side of her beak against his hair. “K–Karl, rrrk.”

“Kuh, kuh.” The grand, elder raven, perched atop a skull on a strange man’s desk, looked rather pleased with himself. Or with the man. He wasn’t sure. Maybe the raven knew the importance of the little parodied poem. Maybe it knew the theme. Maybe. It wouldn’t be surprising, considering the stately bird’s name… was Poe.

“ARSCH!”

…and then there’s the scream, then cackling cry, of a very rude raven named Roderick. Much was to be blamed on him. Much.

[cuddlyplaguedoctor]

Powder Snow and Razor Leaf!

Powder Snow: Oooh, Ice Types! I do like Ice Types. I need to use them more. Froslass for sure. It’s lore is so creepy! I do love Glaceon, and Sneasel too. And then I love Amaura and its final evolution. 

Razor Leaf: Bulbasaur! That one has always been a favorite of mine.Treecko (and its entire evolution line), Leafeon, Lilligant, Skiddo and Gogoat, and… well, Lurantis! I have a soft spot for mantises. 

[zecuddlyblumedic]

dancing-death submitted: Another present? Yep! This one is a small box made of wood. No wrapping or ribbons, and inside is a curious thing- a small jar of powder, probably the most vibrant and intense blue that the Medic has ever seen. Inside the lid is a note. ‘Bruder- as I’m sure you know as a student of art, the finest pigment in the world is made from crushed lapis lazuli. It produced a blue color so fine, lasting and rich, and was so rare, that it was only used to paint the robes of the angels and the Virgin Mary. I doubt you’ll paint much in the way of religious iconography, dear brother, but I know you’ll use this well. Many happy returns. -Karl’ On the bottom of the jar is marked 'Lapis Lazuli- Pigment- Fra Angelico’. The highest grade that Karl could find.

“K--Karl! You... You...”

Abelärd sputtered out in surprise. Yes, he was well aware that lapis lazuli made the finest pigment of blue possible. He had always wanted to paint with it. As an artist, it had been a goal to paint with it, something on his bucket list. He was sure he’d never get a chance.

But now he had that chance, for in his hands was a jar of the finest lapis lazuli pigment ever created. Fra Angelico, the stuff of the masters.

He felt weak. Finding a chair, he sat down. So overcome with emotions was he. Karl had really gone out of his way.

Re-reading the note once more, his mind drifted over various thoughts and feelings. No, he wasn’t about to paint any religious iconography. Though he had just begun celebrating his Jewish heritage once more, he had other plans for this blue. 

He had a portrait to paint. A portrait... of a dancer.

[zehypocriticaloath]

dancing-death submitted:  ‘Brother dear, I am saddened by your comment, often, that you fear your playing is suffering because of your eyesight. You do yourself a disservice by thinking this- indeed, I’ve found your music some of the most passionate I’ve ever heard in my life.

I hope my gift to you will prove inspiring in this regard. I never want to see your wonderful gift die out because you felt you were less than capable. Many happy returns, my dear sibling.’ With this note is a nice stack of records, all by ‘The Genius’ Ray Charles, blind jazz pianist. Karl hopes Aldous will like them as much as he did.

Ray Charles. He had heard of him, vaguely. He was a pianist who was blind. Without thinking, as he mulled over the man, Aldous touched under his own blind eye. His fingers traced the bottom portion of his scar. 

These were records showcasing Charles’ musical talents. And, that note… it had struck a chord with him, no pun intended. He had been shirking away from his one pride and joy, the one thing that honestly thrilled him down to his very core. Producing music, and making (as in writing) his own music had always stirred his heart and passions. But he had shied away due to fear. He thought the lack of eyesight in one eye would cause him to falter.

He had played for Karl, even as of recent, and he knew he had made some mistakes. But he had played beautifully and stirred something within the man he called ‘brother’. 

Quietly, he went to work setting up the record. Settling down in his favorite armchair, he let himself get lost in beautiful music. Music produced by someone who was blind. Music that gave him hope he’d return back to his own talents and hobby.

He had to play for Karl, soon.