4 ♕ The latest trend is painting a self-portrait

[airshipswank]

[ Welcome, dear reader, to our most humble and festive OOC note! In this post you shall be provided with three exceptional interaction opportunities! Observe, enjoy and kindly specify which part your response pertains to, should context not make it abundantly clear. ♥ ]

[1. It's a lovely and warm December morning in the mansion. The Duke of

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ACTION while we still have use of the subject line. I'd say something witty, but the character limi-

[thestormcomes]

[It is a lovely and crisp December morning outside. A fellow named Athos slogs his way through the snowy grounds, oblivious to the landscape that surrounds him. A sensible fellow, he is wearing the most appropriate winter clothes and a fur-lined cape, because this weather is much harsher than the late months he's spent in La Fère.

Occasionally, he will pause on his walk to take in the sights and marvel at how fucking cold it is.

Although, in his frequent obliviousness, he might run into someone without meaning to.]

[starshipsail]

[ George stands next to a tree, one glove taken off to trace its bark with cautious fingers, marvelling at its texture and most importantly colour: Brown. A simple and pale brown, but a brown regardless, one that does not exist in the gardens on the other side. ]

So beautiful...

[ His musings are interrupted by an outcry of pain; his own, as he is struck down by a passer-by and trips, falling into the snow and remaining there, startled. ]

[thestormcomes]

[...well, that does put a damper on getting through this event unscathed, without embarrassing himself.]

Ah, je suis- je suis tellement désolé, Monsieur.

[Athos is a noble man, he isn't about to let the poor whoever-it-is lie there on the frozen ground. Stooping, he grabs hold of one of the fellow's arms and lifts him upright, brushing snow from his shoulders.]

It was my mistake, I did not see you there.

[His manner of speaking is slightly stilted, mostly because making small-talk isn't Athos' forte.]

Are you well?

[itsahotone]

[Ah, those lovely and crisp December mornings outside. Santana is out because she is unsure if she wants to risk going through that RIP IN THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM. Obviously, she has yet to do so, since oh look, it's Orlando Bloom!]

Are you lost?

[starshipsail]

[ George stops fawning over the colour of tree bark for a moment to look at Santana.

And blink.

And look around.

And blink again.

And look generally confused. ]

Lost?

[itsahotone]

...Oh good. More geniuses.

[Louder:]

You look lost. Or like you're half in a coma or something.

[starshipsail]

[ Most of that only serves to confuse him more, but he'll try to answer the things he can make sense of: ]

The mansion is... just over there.

[ He points at it helpfully re: being lost. ]

...I'm fine.

[ It almost sounds like a question, because to be perfectly honest it's a little troubling to think that he should look like half a coma. ]

[itsacoldone]

[It may be a lovely and warm December morning in the mansion, but Saintana is a little too nervous to fully enjoy it. The fact that she's not actually in her room is a miracle in itself, obviously, and the only reason she's not is because she doesn't want to waste away the chance to have an actual, real, Christmas.

This is when she bumps into Orlando Bloom the eloquent strutter.]

Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!

[airshipswank]

[ The strut was slow, the impact light, the collision forgivable.

But hm.

That apology sounded less sarcastic than it should have done. ]

Lost in thoughts, Miss Santana?

[itsacoldone]

[And we now cue the stammering.]

I-I--do you, do we k-know... Have we met?

[airshipswank]

[ Fun fact: The information about mirrors has yet to come up in Buckingham's Wonderland info class in a manner he can process; meaning it's likely nobody told him, meaning if somebody did tell him then he completely handwaved it, meaning congratulations, Saintana! You just took his mirror meeting virginity.

...So far he is not enjoying the experience. ]

I'm hurt that you wouldn't remember.

[ And quite frankly a little annoyed, because he should be the only one who gets to completely forget about people despite having somewhat memorable conversations with them. ]

[mausetitolemy]

Guess who else happens to be strutting (or perhaps gliding is a better way of putting it) through the Mansion hallways on this balmy morning inside?

Perhaps it is the much more assured air with which she carries herself that may seem different to someone who actually knows Evelyn Carnahan, but at the moment Nefertiri might be very nearly indistinguishable for her realside version.

Save for the new attire and an accessory or two.

Fanning herself idly, she pauses to look over the framed ornaments on the Christmas tree in the foyer with a critical eye.

[airshipswank]

[ If Buckingham could have seen the strut and glide he might have been able to assess the situation in its entirety right away, but as he catches her standing he can only make note of the new attire which is rather more fetching than the one he encountered her (or "her") in first. ]

Lady Carnahan.

[ A curt bow, followed by a playfully curious inquiry: ]

Or are you?

[ A pure shot in the dark that would have been aimed at anyone in his path.

At this point the duke has only met one mirror. He could stand to gain a better understanding of this other side, but until he does so he will leave the possibility open that everyone he encounters in the next few days may be nothing but a reflection come to life.

Judgement? Oh, not at all. Either Evelyn will do. ]

[mausetitolemy]

[Slowly, because she knows the value of body language, Nefertiri shifts her weight from one hip to the other, turns her head over her shoulder and smiles.]

Lord Buckingham.

[She deigns to face him fully, gaze flickering over him in assessment. The only time she's actually seen the duke is through a sheet of heavy-duty glass.]

Aren't you astute? On your first try, too.

[airshipswank]

[ And so the lucky guess becomes a clever analysis. ]

A lucky guess, nothing more.

[ ...A clever analysis which pretends to mask as a lucky guess, if anyone cares to follow. ]

And you have heard of me as well,

[ he observes, not without enthusiasm. ]