Mistletoe Meme for Ariste and Weeds +-+ Because I must
>The Twelfth Perigee’s Ball
“Lady Arneus!”
You bound up to the petite violinist, skidding to a halt mere inches from her side, catch her about the waist, and whirl her off her feet into a spin that culminates in a French dip and a sound smooch to the lips.
Prior to your precipitous arrival, you had not had the time to take in much of her appearance beyond that you recognized her, but now ‘t doth occur to you – she has an actual gown on. Draped in gray and green silk, face made up, arms and ears and horns adorned with jewelry, she is a far cry from the wild thing of the woods you previously encountered, and you are momentarily taken aback – as is she.
Momentarily. “Orpheo, WHAT–” her voice climbs several octaves in the space between words– “do you THINK you’re DOING?”
“A thousand pardons, Lady Arneus,” you say smoothly, and bow your most flourishing bow to her. “I am not normally so intimate in my greetings, but –” you dodge a smack– “if thou wilt but listen– LISTEN! Thou standest beneath a mistletoe, ‘tis thy own fault.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her eyes narrow, and she makes as if to grab you by the arms, though you cannot discern whether she means to kiss you in return or strike you.
Regardless, you sidestep her advances and grin ear-to-ear. “Alas, I have left mine own partner unattended for too long – but hast thou brought thy violin? I suggest a duet later, but for now – au revoir!”
And you are gone into the crowd, though not before you hear her irritated shriek.
