Sta.sh
To see how he looks like, look here.
"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go as well," he mused. Anyone could go, as far as he knew. Absently, he wondered if Lance intended to go as well.
"Or if he even knows about it...." he thought aloud. Could Lance be that oblivious? ...Nah. Surely his little brother knew about the event. Well, it wouldn't hurt to check later, he supposed.
Adjusting his bow a little, the performer decided that he might as well prepare for the dance.
The most difficult thing about events wasn't attending. Actually, getting there was the easiest. It was deciding what to wear that Arthur found difficulty in. It was only several hours of considering (and sitting on the edge of a low roof like a giant, colourful bird) that he decided to just let someone else decide for him.
Finding a tailor wasn't much of a problem. Neither was the wait. Sure, there was quite a crowd. The event was a chance for everyone to relax. To forget about everything and just sink into the depths of bliss and laughter until war ripped them back out of that make-belief paradise. Still, even knowing someone would be making the decisions for him, Arthur found it tiring. Well, as tiring as something that could never tire could get anyway. When it was finally his turn, he simply told the tailor to surprise him and watched them set to work.
It was an amusing sight, seeing people run back and forth, shouting measurements and figures that meant absolutely nothing to him at each other as though the world would end if they didn't. Measuring tape was used to wrap around him and Arthur couldn't help but wonder why they didn't simply just wrap him up like a mummy, since they seemed so intent on checking every inch of him anyway. Even his Master usually just told him to find some old clothes and make them fit somehow, rather than go through the trouble of making new ones.
By the time they were done and a full body mirror was shoved in front of him (they tried to push him towards it but clearly failed since they couldn't move him an inch. Oh the joys of being a mobile lump of metal....), Arthur nodded, impressed. They had fitted him in formal clothes, as was expected for such an event.
Arthur studied his clothes as one of the tailors left to fetch something. A white dress shirt with frills at the sleeves was tucked into a black pair of pants and he had a black coat with gold buttons to go over the shirt. His feet were stuffed into a pair of polished black leather shoes and made a gentle tapping sound when he walked around. A fine silver chain hooked onto a belt loop, the other end connected to another loop at his hip, leading him to guess it was just there for show.
"What's that?" he asked as the tailor that had left returned.
"A cravat. Here...." the man explained before tying the burgundy piece of cloth around his neck. The man took a step back and nodded. "Perfect."
"It would seem so," Arthur said, changing back into his old clothes and folding his new ones carefully before taking out his wallet and dropping a number of gold coins into the tailor's waiting hand. "Thank you." He grinned before leaving.
About half an hour before it was time for the dance, Arthur was on his way. He had taken a detour to buy himself a black top hat and added a few touches to it. Now, the hat had a light pink ribbon around it, tied into a bow at the side with the tails dangling past the brim. Tucked behind the ribbon was a pair of cards, a red Queen of Hearts and a black Ace of Spades. A white rose was pinned to his chest, each petal almost sculpted in its perfection.
Arthur looked at his mask, the one he used for performances, and hummed as he continued to walk. "A little too normal, isn't it?" he mused as the mask shimmered in his hand. The shape of the mask changed, the edges turning pointed like a pair of bird's wings. Gold frames appeared on the mask, along the edges of the piece as well as around the eyes. Satisfied, Arthur set the mask over his face and paused, realizing he had arrived. He was missing something.... but what?
"I know~" He unslung his bow (he had left his quiver at an inn. He could always Imagineer himself some arrows, after all) and held it near the top. Ripples ran down the wood as it seemed to melt and in five seconds, Arthur's bow had turned into a perfectly straight walking stick, the handle curved but flat at the top.
Perfect.
flowers~~//slappedagain
That's why~ |D
He knows how to make 'em work~
Classy with dignity~~
....if he knows how himself. xDDD
||D Worst/Best case scenario, they just stumble along and try and make it look like they know what the hell they're doing~