open: the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow boy's butt shaft

[bymyheelies]

For those that care to spend time with Mercutio; they may note that today he is conspicuously hard to find. He is still reeling from the recent news of Romeo's fate at the end of their story, and not entirely sure how to proceed with it. Ideally, at home, he would find some way to take his mind off of pressing matters: spend time with his friends (friend, now, singular) or find someone entertaining to harass about the town and make merry. If he was in a particularly snappish mood he would invariably end up picking a fight with Capulets, one in particular.

That is not the case today. Someone attuned to the general sounds of the mansion might hear a steady sort of thunking noise coming from an out-of-the-way bar. It is there that Mercutio can be found, various bottles of alcohol open at his side. He has clearly been there some time by the looks of it, and is currently engrossed in throwing a small selection of daggers at the wall. Despite his intoxication, he is doing a reasonably good job at it; but judging from the stormy look on his face, he does not entirely wish to be bothered.

Comments

[bymyheelies]

"Oh--" He waves a hand. "'Tis lost to time. The Capulets hate the Montagues, and the Montagues hate the Capulets. Romeo was a Montague, his lady that he killed himself over is a Capulet. The man that slew me, Tybalt, was her cousin."

[sagramore]

"Oh, a stupid blood feud," Sagramore says, thinking of Gaheris, of queen Morgause beheaded, of Lamorak brought down in error.

[bymyheelies]

“Ay,” he agrees, morose. “I cursed them for it.”

[sagramore]

"Well thou shouldst have. It wasn't fair for thee to be caught up in that."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs again. “I was friends with Montagues. I had chosen my side.”

[sagramore]

"What sort of choice is that?" The pancake batter sizzles on the skillet.

[bymyheelies]

"Wouldst not defend thy dearest friend's honor?"

[sagramore]

"I would and I have. That doesn't make it better."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. "I could not have done otherwise."

[sagramore]

"I realize that." At least the pancakes smell good! The kitchen is filling with the fruity scent of the cherries as they flash-cook on the pan, and the first batch will be done pretty soon.

[bymyheelies]

"Thy pancakes smell good," he offers, for lack of anything better to say. He doesn't really want to talk about Tybalt or Romeo, after all.

[sagramore]

"Ah, my thanks!" He flips one. "Are there any foods thou miss'st from Verona?"

[bymyheelies]

"Ay -- lasagne and zabaione, to drink. Zabaione is very good when it is cold out."

[sagramore]

"Well, we're past the cold season, but I'll try my hand at those. I know how it feels to miss food from home."

[bymyheelies]

He shrugs. "It has not changed all that much, but the lasagne I have had here is quite different."

[sagramore]

"What's it like in Verona?"

[bymyheelies]

“Ah —‘tis old. My cousin has been building new gardens; he is very proud of them. ‘Tis…mm. Exceeding religious. Somewhat dull, unless of course thou hast good company.”

[sagramore]

"Such as thy friend Benvolio, but not the lovesick Romeo."

[bymyheelies]

"Oh -- nay, Romeo is a delight when he is not pining. I love him as dearly as I do Benvolio."

[sagramore]

"So the three of thee found much mischief together?"

[bymyheelies]

"Ay," he says, a small smile finally crossing his face. "Benvolio is cousin to Romeo, and they are the only ones near enough to my age that I saw often enough to keep company with."

[sagramore]

"Tell me of one of thine adventures," Sagramore says, as he finally puts down a plate of pancakes in front of Mercutio.

[bymyheelies]

Mercutio considers this for a moment, staring at his pancakes thoughtfully. "Just the other night, at home -- Capulet was having a party. My brother and I were invited, of course -- clearly not Romeo and Benvolio. 'Twas a masked ball, though, and so I snuck them in anyhow. It was a very fine party, good drink and dancing. I think that is where Romeo must have met his lady."

[sagramore]

"That does seem an excellent place to do it. What face didst thou wear at the masque?"

[bymyheelies]

"I wore the face of a hound, colored in black and red. Benvolio was a wolf. Romeo -- I think he had a plain mask."