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Verso December Catch-All
WHO: Verso, open
WHEN: Wilting Festival + December
WHERE: Various
WHAT: A Catch All Log. (Just one prompt to start. Will add more prompts this weekend!)
NOTES\WARNINGS: Will specify in threads.
Choo Choo - Wilting Festival
[Verso tells himself it's just friendly curiosity. Useful observations for Lune on Bloomcraft for when they reunite, nothing more. It's the second‑largest lie he's told himself this month.
Still, he wistfully lingers when he sees it: A toy engine gliding across gleaming rails on a long wooden table strewn with frosted trees, snow‑dusted cottages and tiny villagers locked in winter cheer. Soft puffs curl from its miniature stack. A precise, satisfying clack‑clatter cuts through the festival hum as if tuned to Verso's inner child. The workmanship is absurdly exact, like somebody shrunk a full‑size locomotive with a sprinkle of fairy dust and a wink.
He allows a sensible thought (Maybe it's for sale?), and then a sillier one: an adviser to the crown slipping a toy train beneath his coat, as though it were a perfectly reasonable souvenir for an unmarried nobleman to take home. Verso huffs to himself, shakes his head, and walks on, feigning indifference.
He "pretends" twice more that afternoon. Each pass makes the corner of his mouth lift into a smile. If someone who knows Verso well were looking for him, the festive train display would be the best place to check first.]
WHEN: Wilting Festival + December
WHERE: Various
WHAT: A Catch All Log. (Just one prompt to start. Will add more prompts this weekend!)
NOTES\WARNINGS: Will specify in threads.
Choo Choo - Wilting Festival
[Verso tells himself it's just friendly curiosity. Useful observations for Lune on Bloomcraft for when they reunite, nothing more. It's the second‑largest lie he's told himself this month.
Still, he wistfully lingers when he sees it: A toy engine gliding across gleaming rails on a long wooden table strewn with frosted trees, snow‑dusted cottages and tiny villagers locked in winter cheer. Soft puffs curl from its miniature stack. A precise, satisfying clack‑clatter cuts through the festival hum as if tuned to Verso's inner child. The workmanship is absurdly exact, like somebody shrunk a full‑size locomotive with a sprinkle of fairy dust and a wink.
He allows a sensible thought (Maybe it's for sale?), and then a sillier one: an adviser to the crown slipping a toy train beneath his coat, as though it were a perfectly reasonable souvenir for an unmarried nobleman to take home. Verso huffs to himself, shakes his head, and walks on, feigning indifference.
He "pretends" twice more that afternoon. Each pass makes the corner of his mouth lift into a smile. If someone who knows Verso well were looking for him, the festive train display would be the best place to check first.]