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thisclockworkheart) wrote2023-12-20 11:30 am
Golden Peacock Inbox & Open Season App
6♥ [SIX of HEARTS]
UN: pinocchio
AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ TEXT ✧ ACTION
20 / male / unknown / 6♥
Details
The strong and silent type who doesn't like to brag! Or say much of anything. I'm sure this delicious snack has lots to say once you break through his dashingly wooden and icy exterior!
He says he's a stalker -- not that we judge, honey! We all have our vices!
Small correction, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals. A Stalker is a vocation, something about mercenary work.
This cherry boy is single and ready to mingle!
He plays the piano and says he's good with a sword. He even expressed interest in finding a few like-minded sparring partners! You know that that means, he's great with his hands and one of them is! Metal! A! F!
(This space, perhaps intentionally, has been left blank.)
(No information. Perhaps the original drafter of this post abandoned it halfway through.)
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.02 CLOWNS OR MIMES
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.03 SHOWER OR BATH
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.04 PIRATES OR NINJAS
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.05 TITS OR ASS
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.06 COFFEE OR TEA
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.07 SPICY OR SWEET
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.08 SUMMER OR WINTER
NO ANSWER GIVEN
.09 LEATHER OR LACE
AN ANSWER! BOTH.
10. ROUGH SEX OR GENTLE SEX
NO ANSWER GIVEN
INFP-T
no subject
[A few different songs flit through his mind. Old tracks he played in his office late at night.]
I've never been called that before. You can't be telling anyone I sing. [Wriothesley wouldn't exactly call singing a hobby, but doesn't everyone sometimes sing to themselves?
He hums softly to a song he hasn't heard recently, but one he happily listens to often enough.]
no subject
[ It feels special, to have someone he can confide in, to share in a secret. The sentiment stitches neatly with the way Wrio seamlessly plays along, performing a curtsy almost comically dainty for his handsome, rugged frame.
But what surprises him is the tune he carries, pure and arresting. Music has ever been something that both attracts and foments change in the puppet, ever since the first time he slotted a record in the hotel's player. He can carry a tune, he supposes, but the one time he tried to sing, Gemini had hesitated around what seemed glaringly obvious to the both of them: something is missing. He's grown and changed since, but...
He supposes he was always better at expressing himself behind a piano's ivories and ebonies. Not like Wrio, not like this, where at first he freezes, transfixed by the sound, stunned to hear it until he remembers he is supposed to dance and searches for the beat.
One step, then another, and a third, feeling out the differences between the waltz he's been taught and, possibly, Wrio's own expectations. A pivot in place, only to start again. Feeling out the motions, the way the puzzle that is them fits to the tune that warbles in Wrio's throat. ]
no subject
Right now though, he hums softly, words sometimes slipping from his lips, as they move together. He sways and moves, like water going with the flow, and keeping in step with the smaller man.
The arts have always been vital in the expression of emotions for humans. It reads on the man so viscerally. The aching exhaustion settled into his bones and reads in his more sluggish movements to the sweet melancholy that lingers in his throat. Wriothesley, while a private person, was also equally expressive.] Hah, I think you're a better dancer than me. Not that it's very hard to. I don't dance.