“An archive of things that never happened”. An in-character forum for fanfiction and roleplaying. Beware - spoilers abound!
Election Season at Caligula's
Rackenhammer
Posts: 354
6/19/2018
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For the third year in a row, London was enjoying an exercise of its democratic privilege of electing its own mayor. It was fair to say by now that the novelty had worn off, along with much of the initial civic enthusiasm, leaving a public less eager to take a side in the political scrimmage. Londoners are more coy this year, refraining from openly displaying any felt allegiances.
Displayed in blazing contrast to this grey fog of silence was Mathieu Psmith, a man never ashamed to fly his colors. Cosmogone on his spectacles, Irrigo in his suit, and the ribbons of all three elections adorning his jacket: Jovial Contrarian 1894, Feducci 1895, Jovial Contrarian 1896. He’d come to Caligula’s today in a distinctly political mood; which was to say, he wanted to have some arguments and kiss some babies. The former could always be found in the coffee shop, but the latter was harder to come by. Therefore, he’d brought along his own for when the occasion should permit.
Mathieu is currently seated on a street-facing table in the cafe, dividing his attention between the street and his son Moses, whose own attention is fully occupied in wrestling with his father’s finger. The baby’s basket is laid upon the table, beside a large tray of little cookies and a carafe of coffee. Mathieu sips from his mug, looking out towards the public over the top of his glasses, eyes fixed in defiance, not unmixed with hope, that someone would try to change his mind.
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"DO NOT TRUST HAPPY ENDINGS. DO NOT FEAR SAD ENDINGS... NEITHER ARE ENDINGS."
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Mathieu Psmith: The Bard of Lost Children, loving husband, and a fixture of the artistic set. Can never resist making a show of things...
Irene Psmith: Adopted Daughter of Mathieu. Specializes in Information, Acquisitions, and the Acquisition of Information.
Vaughan Montblanc: Once a frontiersman of Western Canada, he now practices medicine in London. His discretion may be absolutely trusted.
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Greg M
Posts: 197
6/20/2018
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GregM waves "hi" to Mattheu from across Caligula's (and even though he's been in Fallen London for a solid six months, he still can't get over the name. Why 'Caligula's?' Why not 'Claudius'? Or 'Augustus'? Or, pretty much ANYONE?)
GregM causally drops a folded leaflet hidden inside another folded leaflet on Mattheu's table. The top leaflet reads "So, you're new to Fallen London."
The inner leaflet: "Write in GregM for Mayor. Not a faction of Hell. Not a vampire. Definitely not a contrarian. The ONLY sane option." Whistles innocently. wanders off to get coffee from...Caligula. Sigh.
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Profile: GregM.
http://www.fallenlondon.com/Profile/GregM
Available for any non-harmful social interactions.
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