[accidentally intentional video]

[bloodwaif]

[After several false starts and out-of-focus to focus blurring, the journal's camera focuses on the body of a small, dead bird, and the bare white hand that is gently stroking it.]

He has no more flute now, to sing his fire. Soon all will be fire, or so he sang to me.



Player Name: Sazzles
Are you new?: noooo
Character Name: Drusilla
Character Fandom: BTVS

Comments

[hismasterpiece]

It's strange to speak with you without smelling all that life in you. [This time the video is on her face. She peers into the journal.]

So much life in you.

[greenjacketed]

[ everything about this woman looked...delicate. it sets the major on edge -- not in a wholly welcome way. ]

Pardon me, miss? [ smelling? ] A-at least some of us've got life. Can't say the same for that bird of yours. My...err, sympathies.

[hismasterpiece]

But he is still more beautiful, and his heart no longer throbbing yellow. What do they call you, soldier boy?

[greenjacketed]

[ as stiff as stiff can be: ] Major Richard Sharpe, m'lady.

[ she talks like someone important -- twisting, indecipherable sentences. nothing plain. it only makes him warier. ]

[bloodwaif]

Milady! Aren't I the quality, then! [She gives a curtsy, and the journal bobs with her.] I do love a major, but the minors capture my heart, they do.

[She begins humming in thin tones what might loosely sound like Bach's Double Violin Concerto in D minor. Sort of. An Indie version of it, at any rate.]

[greenjacketed]

[ maybe she's new; maybe she bumped her head; maybe she's from one of those odd-talking worlds. ]

And you, miss? I'm supposing you've got a name. Everyone's got a name. Even if it isn't his own.

[bloodwaif]

Lady Nightingale. It flutters, that name. I like it ever so much.