06-27-2018, 05:03 PM
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 500px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 125%; text-align:justify;"]/ apologies for not getting to this sooner!
also sorry that i can't match your post length, lmao
Lupin hates fairytales.
That's probably a surprise to those that don't know him, even more so to those that think they know him - and to those with an honest connection, it's perhaps as unsurprising as the sun's rise above the horizon every morning. Painfully-false fiction isn't something he's come to appreciate over time; as a child, perhaps, he lost himself in fantasy, but the magic is very easily lost on a mind that's seen all evidence point to them being cruel impossibilities. That's not to say that he's a grim pessimist who's long since abandoned all hope of happiness - no, far from it - but he'd hardly refer to himself as optimistic, and he wouldn't dare consider that a shame. If somebody's going to chase joy by clinging to lies, then so be it, but he'd rather mire himself in reality and try to eke out a living there. For those who consider love a form of magic, then he supposes he'd have to tell them that he's given up on that, too, but that sounds so awful and cold that even he can't bring himself to say it when everything he does becomes romance, regardless of whether or not he means for it to. The beauty of that which is fake presents itself in such a way that even he, evidently, cannot it, though he often thinks he would quite like to. There's something oddly poetic about struggling against love, however, and that, in and of itself, is another fictitious act. (Fairytales, he concedes, are ineluctable.)
This couple, once - if - he learns enough about them to understand, is only further proof of his personal conclusion. For now, with his limited knowledge, he can only assume that they're in some form of relationship, given the wedding bands and familiarity. He'd not dare to suggest it, however, acutely aware of how many times his suppositions have been proven false by his inability to keep his mouth shut. Instead, hands in pockets and followed, this time, by two friendly-looking dogs (Flintlock has an abundance of them, and he's seldom seen without them nowadays), Lupin approaches the duo easily, breath forming clouds in front of him. "I'm pretty sure you have to be insane to come here willingly," he says with a shrug, mouth slanting upwards in a lopsided grin. There are far warmer, less-treacherous, easier-to-access places to head, and those that approach Flintlock as a first choice are a special breed, the only sort that can truly survive here. (That being said, he knows nothing of their motivations. They could be here to pass on a message.) "What brings you both here?"
also sorry that i can't match your post length, lmao
Lupin hates fairytales.
That's probably a surprise to those that don't know him, even more so to those that think they know him - and to those with an honest connection, it's perhaps as unsurprising as the sun's rise above the horizon every morning. Painfully-false fiction isn't something he's come to appreciate over time; as a child, perhaps, he lost himself in fantasy, but the magic is very easily lost on a mind that's seen all evidence point to them being cruel impossibilities. That's not to say that he's a grim pessimist who's long since abandoned all hope of happiness - no, far from it - but he'd hardly refer to himself as optimistic, and he wouldn't dare consider that a shame. If somebody's going to chase joy by clinging to lies, then so be it, but he'd rather mire himself in reality and try to eke out a living there. For those who consider love a form of magic, then he supposes he'd have to tell them that he's given up on that, too, but that sounds so awful and cold that even he can't bring himself to say it when everything he does becomes romance, regardless of whether or not he means for it to. The beauty of that which is fake presents itself in such a way that even he, evidently, cannot it, though he often thinks he would quite like to. There's something oddly poetic about struggling against love, however, and that, in and of itself, is another fictitious act. (Fairytales, he concedes, are ineluctable.)
This couple, once - if - he learns enough about them to understand, is only further proof of his personal conclusion. For now, with his limited knowledge, he can only assume that they're in some form of relationship, given the wedding bands and familiarity. He'd not dare to suggest it, however, acutely aware of how many times his suppositions have been proven false by his inability to keep his mouth shut. Instead, hands in pockets and followed, this time, by two friendly-looking dogs (Flintlock has an abundance of them, and he's seldom seen without them nowadays), Lupin approaches the duo easily, breath forming clouds in front of him. "I'm pretty sure you have to be insane to come here willingly," he says with a shrug, mouth slanting upwards in a lopsided grin. There are far warmer, less-treacherous, easier-to-access places to head, and those that approach Flintlock as a first choice are a special breed, the only sort that can truly survive here. (That being said, he knows nothing of their motivations. They could be here to pass on a message.) "What brings you both here?"