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The Wedding Party of Drake Dynamo & Lady Lallinka Messages in this topic - RSS

Drake Dynamo
Drake Dynamo
Posts: 493

Drake stares at the Sailor's gift in awe. He is silent for a long period of time before finally looking the Sailor in the eyes, and saying, "my goodness, Captain. This is- I have no words. You are thoughtful beyond measure. This shall be given a position of honor in my home." Drake pauses for a moment, before continuing.

"You've been good to me, Captain, more than was required. First you lent me your ship, and then you lent me your skills, and it cost you an arm. If you have need of me, or any resources I might be able to provide, merely ask and I shall be there. You're a true friend, Captain; they're hard to come by down here, and I'm proud to count you amongst them," Drake promises, and departs to put the carving someplace safe. As he is moving, he chances upon Sir Thomas Sketch, standing still for once.

"Ah, young Thomas, how nice of you to come! I know we've barely spoken since we first met last autumn, but I appreciate you making your way out here. So tell me, how are things? Seeing any ladies- or I suppose you naval types call them 'lasses,' eh? Any word of whether or not they've found any sign of your father at Irem or beyond?" Drake inquires of the young bluejacket.

Oh no. Another post from that goon who goes on about statistics.

Drake Dynamo -Correspondent, Hesperidean Cider Drinker , Matchmaker, and Paramount Presence
The Antioch - The Coffee God (I do not check this account often)
Mr. Mauvais - A ghostly skullduggerous fellow, chopped up for the time being (Only active during seasonal events)

Guide to becoming a Poet-Laureate
If you need to discuss RP matters, I can typically be found on the IRC in #Argo.
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The Atumian Sputum
The Atumian Sputum
Posts: 139

Thomas smiles politely as the man of the hour finally catches up to him, shaking him from his reverie. He shakes the aristocrat's hand.
"A no to both, I'm afraid, Mr. Dynamo. No word as to the whereabouts of my father, nor any likelihood of marriage soon, though I'm sure the Admiralty is working on both. This is a great celebration, you know - I thank you for inviting me. The wine is wonderful," he rambles flatteringly.
This continues for a moment before the zailor runs out of small-talk compliments, the shower of minor flattery running suddenly dry. In its place spreads a wide pool of awkward silence.
"Oh, I nearly forgot," he says suddenly, and reaches a hand into the thin pocket of his Admiralty coat, fishing for something in the lined interior, "Here we are. I couldn't have come without a gift, I suppose - even I've manners enough for that."
He pulls out a small felt box. For a moment it looks as if he's decided to truly throw a wrench into things and propose to Dynamo here and now, but when he opens the box something that is certainly not a ring begins to glitter in the light of the chandeliers.
It is a cut gem, something like the emeralds one finds on the Surface, only of a sort of brightness in color one can not find in any emerald. The gem, about half the size of one's palm, shines brilliantly and powerfully - one would almost think it glowed in the dark, and indeed, a sort of pale clover light seems to fall on the interior lining of the felt box, barely visible in the bright light of the festivities.
It is a neat little gift, beautiful and exotic and no doubt expensive, all the while not in the least bit personal. The felt box now completes its journey from an Admiralty desk through Thomas Sketch's gloved hands all the way to Dynamo's gift pile - the knight nearly blushes as he hands over the gift, painfully aware of just how 'polite' and unsentimental a gift it is, the kind Dynamo has no doubt received a thousand of already today.
"A zee gem. Not half as bright as your futures, I'll hope."

Straight outta Dahut.
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