OPEN | prompt three | PAIN

[wrens]

prompt three | P A I N dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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[doggerel]

[ When Chapter sniffs so does Verse — a twitch of his nose, the briefest puckering of his brow. By now the reaction is Pavlovian, Verse taking his cue from his fellow bloodhound only to decide moments later that, yes, the message is irrelevant to him too. Chapter had taken to the process much better than he did, which is why Verse can only smell raw, unrefined magic as opposed to the subtle and nuanced stuff.

Verse takes his time to consider the question, his hands finding the pockets of his slacks as he rocks back and forth on his feet like a gangly, bobble-headed adolescent. ]

People are moving, going places, [ he hums in a half-wistful way. ] Harlem tomorrow. Could be tricky, could be dull.

[caput]

Come on, bro. [He clicks his tongue with a playfully disapproving frown, hands in his pockets. It could sound condescending if it weren't just his usual tone, the everyday demeanor and vocabulary he uses to function. Chapter is always thinking about something else, something animated, buzzing in his mind to keep it entertained and soothed -- maybe that's why people get the feeling that he's never fully present. Boredom agitates him; otherwise he'll be cool secure when Verse decides to take a different approach. Not that there's much that can tackle his audacity.] Never dull when we're around.

[doggerel]

[ They're similar in that respect, in needing some form of distraction in order to keep control over their moods and, therefore, always seeming a bit off by normal standards. If there is something distanced and strange about Chapter, it compliments Verse's own quirked personality enough that it never bothers him.

He hums again, a tune this time, the particular arrangement of notes slightly off tune and awkward. ] Look but don' touch, [ Verse says, the strange cadence of his voice adding little barbs of over-emphasis to his diction. ] Not until it's green light, go. So says the queen.

[caput]

[He sees the warning -- he's often reminded of it and makes sure he reminds Verse in turn. Love your job; just don't get too excited.

Chapter gives it a pause for thought, placing emphasis on his movements and expression. Pursed lips, creased brows, deep exhale, bouncing on the balls of his feet.]

So says the queen. [Not much he can do about it.] But what say you?

[doggerel]

[ Verse does something exaggerated and almost pantomime with his eyebrows. It makes him look like a silent movie actor trying to speak the lines with just the flip flop of his brow. ] I say that someone is hiding things. Hands in the cookie jar. Kid in a candyshop.

[caput]

Oh. Oh no. [He might as well delivered a fake little gasp with his hand over his mouth to complete the act.] That's bad, Verse. Real bad.

[doggerel]

Look but don't touch, [ Verse repeats, a reminder to himself more than anything. (Discipline, discipline.) They're only as useful as they prove themselves to be and making a mess too soon was not useful at all. ] But once the looking's over—

[ —then he could play. Verse breaks into a smile. ]