*Sits in the cafe, sips on a latte and muses on how WELL things are going lately.*

I'm getting on better with Miriel lately, I even made her laugh. HA. That's a foot in the door. Even Gimilkhad doesn't seem to want to eviscerate me lately...okay, that's probably because he's found somone he can hate even more than me, but still, it's not to be ( Read more... )

*Stalks around Tirion's CBD, in a high-state of zombie alert. Okay, so they say that Pharazombie was decapitated and cremated BUT YOU NEVER KNOW.*

*Lights a cigarette and paces, twitching all the while.*

*Notices a vacant-looking blonde, gazing down the street with a blank expression on her face.*

She looks like a zombie...

*Staggers out onto the steps of the Consulate, still a little bit groggy from the tranqs that Gimilkhad inflicted on him.*

*sinks down onto the top step and sets Aranruth II across his lap.*

Come an' 'ave a go, Pharazombie, I'm ready for ya. Wanker.

*Sits in the park, thinking about quickies nothing in particular.*

*Begins to wonder if he should try to get a real job so he doesn't have to subsist on gruel and cheap, cat's piss booze.*

*Can't for the life of him think what marketable skills he has though.* :\

*Ponders the problem quietly until he notices a an eerily familiar silhouette ( Read more... )

*Sits in the park downing the remnants of the beer he had with Morno.*

*Has decided he needs to get horribly drunk to get over the trauma of being civil.*

Arrogant, patronising, bastard. "Underling" indeed, I was the frickin' Lord of Andúnië, nearly, I'm not an UNDERLING. Pah. Self-improvment is HARD. *hic!*

*Sits in the park reading the paper*

*Peeks up over the top of the paper periodically to watch the comings and goings of the Consulate.*

*Isn't quite sad enough to cut eyeholes in his paper.*

((Right. Let's try again. Joe Pilato.))

*Reads the paper, starting at the back with the sports pages*
*Gets to the obits fairly quickly*
*glances over them then double-takes*

OMGWTFBBQLOL?!?!

*Runs over to see his brother*
*waves the paper*

HOLY SHIT, PHARAZON'S DEAD!

...

...

...

My life has no meaning.

( *Practises some sword moves in the park, and sings as he does so.* )

*Settles down with a bottle of whiskey in the park and mopes ( Read more... )

( *sends Miriel a ludicrously over-the-top gift for St. Vana's day.* )