x. dictated, action

[heloise]

I had not dared to wish for a sister or a daughter. Yet look, I had both, and the sweetest husband any woman could hope for.

Only the Castle does me a disservice by removing my better half!

[ Lucrezia dictates from the orchard, leaning against an old tree. She closes her journal before going back to, slowly and rather messily, sewing colored glass onto a piece of lace while muttering a song to herself: ]

♪ La bella lavanderina che lava i fazzoletti per i poveretti della città! ♪

[ ooc; so open, journal or action! also, translation and music!

Comments

[heloise]

Very good.

And what about your family, Brock?

[samson]

I was married to Molotov. The castle's not that creative sometimes.

Uh, we had a "daughter," I guess ...

[heloise]

Who is the lucky girl?

[samson]

That girl Vriska. Well, she was a girl at the time. Usually she's like an alien or ... whatever. Horns.

[heloise]

[ She's having that moment Brock had a moment ago. ]

What is she like, aside from her horns?

[samson]

Loud and kind of mean. [A pause.] So it'd make sense the castle made her Molotov's kid ...

[heloise]

Said with the utmost affection, Brock?

[samson]

[Oh, this isn't filtered. Brock, Molotov could stumble upon this.]

Yeah, of course. Married couples are allowed to say things like that.

[heloise]

Like saying whether the other snores or not?

[samson]

Exactly like that.

[heloise]

I must ask Molotov if you did.

[samson]

If I snore? I'm sure she'll tell you a bunch of horror stories about me.

[heloise]

[ She chuckles. ] Would she tell them better than you?

[samson]

She'd probably tell you more than I would.

[heloise]

She may avoid the request as you do.

[samson]

[Oh, haha. Amused:] You think I'm avoiding the request?

[heloise]

You are not answering it, Brock.

[samson]

I can't remember the question. [Not that he's making excuses or anything.]

[heloise]

[ She doesn't either... so makes one up. ]

Does Molotov snore?

[samson]

[That sounds about right, anyway -- they were talking about snoring for a bit, weren't they?]

Like a chainsaw.

[heloise]

How do you sleep then?

[samson]

[Obviously because she wears him out, BUT!!!! he can't say that to her.]

You get used to it.

[heloise]

Because you love her, it must sound like music!

[samson]

Has anyone ever told you you're a real romantic, Lu?

[heloise]

A true romantic would favor happily ever afters.