http://laszlo-jamf.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
laszlo-jamf.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2009-10-06 12:30 pm
laszlo-jamf.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2009-10-06 12:30 pm
You Mean You Can't Take Less...
When; Oct 6th, Mad Hatter Day Curse
Rating; G - PG-13
Characters; OPEN!
Summary; On a day that you can be sipping tea with friends one moment, passing sugar to an enemy the next, only only to find yourself eating cake with a deity, this is merely one of the tables the City's inhabitants may find themselves dining at.
Log; The City is the City is a city, and it is down in the streets, in canyons of steel, "it's making me feel I'm home." It's autumn inNew York the City. It's good to live it again.
So Laszlo has set a table too, in sharp and stark and bright and direct and pointed and intentional contrast to the greenery and garden party out in Xanadu. Garden parties. Like picnicking in a cemetery--oh, but they did that, didn't they? The Sunday afternoon walks out to go and spit on ol' Laszlo Jamf's grave.
This would do better if it were indoors, in a penthouse, in some corner apartment--name your other city, he's been to them all. But, close enough, to set it in the street, under the windows and brick and steel. It will do.
A red table. Red and sharp. Dark wood, yes, but red cloth over it, neat and straight--no flow or foam or excess. Tailored--that's the word.
Formality and modernism, that is the center of this table. Black and white dishes, Art Deco, lines and angles and planes. It's an era with which he is familiar. But the effect is striking and cold.
He would have set it in white with stainless steel--medical, clean, efficient--but that idea had been nixed. Damn it.
So red and black and white. And a smattering of steel. He couldn't resist. And better still to sit at the head of the table and observe, the sweep and stretch of the table, the moods and ways of those who sit there--and, always, room for one more.
At least until the bell rang, the gun fired, the call came, and the rush began again.
The Unmoved Mover.
Note; See here! Mark your subject lines with "open" or "to ____" if you like. Prose OR comment log style is alright. Laszlo will speak with any marked "open" or "to Laszlo". Enjoy, and feel free to pop your character in and out as it pleases you and the curse description goes!
Rating; G - PG-13
Characters; OPEN!
Summary; On a day that you can be sipping tea with friends one moment, passing sugar to an enemy the next, only only to find yourself eating cake with a deity, this is merely one of the tables the City's inhabitants may find themselves dining at.
Log; The City is the City is a city, and it is down in the streets, in canyons of steel, "it's making me feel I'm home." It's autumn in
So Laszlo has set a table too, in sharp and stark and bright and direct and pointed and intentional contrast to the greenery and garden party out in Xanadu. Garden parties. Like picnicking in a cemetery--oh, but they did that, didn't they? The Sunday afternoon walks out to go and spit on ol' Laszlo Jamf's grave.
This would do better if it were indoors, in a penthouse, in some corner apartment--name your other city, he's been to them all. But, close enough, to set it in the street, under the windows and brick and steel. It will do.
A red table. Red and sharp. Dark wood, yes, but red cloth over it, neat and straight--no flow or foam or excess. Tailored--that's the word.
Formality and modernism, that is the center of this table. Black and white dishes, Art Deco, lines and angles and planes. It's an era with which he is familiar. But the effect is striking and cold.
He would have set it in white with stainless steel--medical, clean, efficient--but that idea had been nixed. Damn it.
So red and black and white. And a smattering of steel. He couldn't resist. And better still to sit at the head of the table and observe, the sweep and stretch of the table, the moods and ways of those who sit there--and, always, room for one more.
At least until the bell rang, the gun fired, the call came, and the rush began again.
The Unmoved Mover.
Note; See here! Mark your subject lines with "open" or "to ____" if you like. Prose OR comment log style is alright. Laszlo will speak with any marked "open" or "to Laszlo". Enjoy, and feel free to pop your character in and out as it pleases you and the curse description goes!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Page 1 of 5