rapunzel. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gleamingly) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2014-03-07 02:26 pm
gleamingly) wrote in towerofanimus2014-03-07 02:26 pm
first song ♪ not quite the beginning she wanted.
Characters: Rapunzel (gleamingly) and you!
Setting: Room 1-01, floor three, floor six, and floor twenty-two.
Format: I'm starting with prose, but I'll match you.
Summary: Rapunzel wakes up in the Tower of Animus after an argument with her mother. Worst time-out ever.
Warnings: Nothing so far.
Room 1-01.
When Rapunzel wakes, it is with a start, and it is not because it's too loud. Rather, it's because there is a distinct lack of noise. Where is the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the chirping of the birds, the (rather obnoxious and unattractive) snoring of her (ridiculously attractive) traveling companion? She remembers the argument with her mother and her heart nearly drops into her stomach. Had she been brought home?
A look around the room answers that question. No, she hadn't, but she also isn't in the woods on her way to see the floating lanterns. She is also not wearing her dress, and -
Are those other beds? She gasps and pulls her covers up over herself, self-conscious about the strange white jumpsuit she's found herself in, before peeking out.
"Who... who's there?" She calls out shakily. "If someone else is in this room, tell me now...!"
Floor Three.
She has never seen so many books in her entire life. It is all she can do not to drop her mass of hair and run among the shelves to find something to read; instead she keeps her long hair gathered up in her arms and steps off the staircase so that she can explore the library at a brisk pace.
If she had something like this in her tower, it would have been so difficult to get bored.
One might find her peering curiously at a book with pictures of automobiles, or with two novels in a trilogy resting on the frying pan and the pile of hair in her arms while she rushes about looking for the third, or maybe even eyeing a book perched precariously on the top of a shelf as she twirls her hair like a lasso and throws it to pull it down.
Floor Six.
Anyone passing by the forest floor may see a peculiar sight: A barefoot, long-haired blonde in a dress that seems too short for her, clutching a frying pan and staring down a deer with too-sharp teeth. The deer is growling; Rapunzel is glancing uncertainly between it and the chameleon perched on her shoulder.
"Deer aren't supposed to growl, are they, Pascal...?"
The chameleon chitters at her and points insistently at the staircase with his tail, but she shakes her head. "No, I don't want to just run away!"
Floor Twenty-two.
She is somewhat more relaxed now, but only because she hasn't yet gone very far into the gallery. For the moment she is just looking at the paintings and chattering to about them to Pascal, who is now perched on her other shoulder.
"Whoever painted this must have been very skilled! Look at the reflection in the water," She's saying, brushing her fingers against a painting of a young man staring into a pond. The plaque below it reads Narcissus, but she doesn't know what that means. "It's identical to his face! And look at the way the water catches the light. Can you believe this was made with paint, Pascal?"
The chameleon does not look very impressed. Rapunzel is undaunted; she'll continue her tour of the gallery.
gleamingly) and you!Setting: Room 1-01, floor three, floor six, and floor twenty-two.
Format: I'm starting with prose, but I'll match you.
Summary: Rapunzel wakes up in the Tower of Animus after an argument with her mother. Worst time-out ever.
Warnings: Nothing so far.
Room 1-01.
When Rapunzel wakes, it is with a start, and it is not because it's too loud. Rather, it's because there is a distinct lack of noise. Where is the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the chirping of the birds, the (rather obnoxious and unattractive) snoring of her (ridiculously attractive) traveling companion? She remembers the argument with her mother and her heart nearly drops into her stomach. Had she been brought home?
A look around the room answers that question. No, she hadn't, but she also isn't in the woods on her way to see the floating lanterns. She is also not wearing her dress, and -
Are those other beds? She gasps and pulls her covers up over herself, self-conscious about the strange white jumpsuit she's found herself in, before peeking out.
"Who... who's there?" She calls out shakily. "If someone else is in this room, tell me now...!"
Floor Three.
She has never seen so many books in her entire life. It is all she can do not to drop her mass of hair and run among the shelves to find something to read; instead she keeps her long hair gathered up in her arms and steps off the staircase so that she can explore the library at a brisk pace.
If she had something like this in her tower, it would have been so difficult to get bored.
One might find her peering curiously at a book with pictures of automobiles, or with two novels in a trilogy resting on the frying pan and the pile of hair in her arms while she rushes about looking for the third, or maybe even eyeing a book perched precariously on the top of a shelf as she twirls her hair like a lasso and throws it to pull it down.
Floor Six.
Anyone passing by the forest floor may see a peculiar sight: A barefoot, long-haired blonde in a dress that seems too short for her, clutching a frying pan and staring down a deer with too-sharp teeth. The deer is growling; Rapunzel is glancing uncertainly between it and the chameleon perched on her shoulder.
"Deer aren't supposed to growl, are they, Pascal...?"
The chameleon chitters at her and points insistently at the staircase with his tail, but she shakes her head. "No, I don't want to just run away!"
Floor Twenty-two.
She is somewhat more relaxed now, but only because she hasn't yet gone very far into the gallery. For the moment she is just looking at the paintings and chattering to about them to Pascal, who is now perched on her other shoulder.
"Whoever painted this must have been very skilled! Look at the reflection in the water," She's saying, brushing her fingers against a painting of a young man staring into a pond. The plaque below it reads Narcissus, but she doesn't know what that means. "It's identical to his face! And look at the way the water catches the light. Can you believe this was made with paint, Pascal?"
The chameleon does not look very impressed. Rapunzel is undaunted; she'll continue her tour of the gallery.
no subject
His smile doesn't fade as Rapunzel introduces herself. "That's a really pretty name. It's nice to meet you Ms. Rapunzel, and you too Mr. Pascal!" If he was being honest, Quark wasn't so sure if he was supposed to be quite so formal with a lizard...but, well, just to be safe, he didn't want to offend it.
The boy's expression only brightens further. "Really? You'd play games with me? Does that mean we're friends now?" He practically bounces on his feet, hands ringing themselves together excitedly. "Yeah! That would be fun!" And Ruana definitely wasn't invited. "What kind of games do you like?"
no subject
She won't ask if he is here or not. She hasn't found Mother or Eugene yet and that in itself is painful. If Quark hasn't found his grandfather, she doesn't want to remind him. Instead, she just looks delighted at the compliment. "Aww, thank you, Quark!" Pascal peeks back out at the sound of his name and makes a motion with his head that might be a nod.
"Of course I would! I love to play games," She says. "And I'd really like to be your friend." She hums a little as she thinks about her favorite games. "Pascal and I played hide-and-go-seek a lot at home. We also like to play pretend!" There was no better way to substitute seeing the world than reading a book and imagining that she's going on the adventures herself.
no subject
Sure, maybe he daydreamed a little here and there, but most of the time Quark was always so busy doing some thing or another that he didn't actually stop to play pretend. That and he didn't have many friends who really seemed interested in that sort of thing. Or who were his age.