week two | match ceremony

[marriagebroker]

Tonight, we're back in the courtyard. It looks similar to last week with the slight exception, there is now a plush couch near the stage, and a single lantern already lit above the stage. There's still food, drinks, all sorts of things available for the contestants to snack on and enjoy.

On the stage is Wei Wuxian, looking presentable in his hanfu for today. He's busy twirling his flute in hand as he waits for the contestants to show up and find their places, and when they do he'll extend both arms out, welcoming the cast.

"Second match ceremony! You're exempt from a black out tonight because you've already found one of the matches."

He'll gesture to that couch from earlier, which seems to be The Special Seat for Ringo and Furina to sit at if they'd like.

"Now, we know how this goes so let's not delay anymore! Team Wangji, it's your turn to announce your matches!"

Comments

[anathemaw]

[ Hiding under the hat... Once again, one of the snakes edges forward, nudging slightly into Rom's personal space to try and glimpse his expression, though Messmer himself looks impassive. All this talk, and he still doesn't know exactly what Rom is talking about. By design, no doubt. ]

Thou speakest still in ambiguities. [ the vaguest hint of frustration, although it's tempered again by that pervasive resignation of his. ] Yet I should not blame thee for thy distrust.

[ Rom not wanting to tell him things is very reasonable, he thinks. ]

Aye. The possibility remains that we are matched. Regardless of thy machinations, there doth worth remain in us.

[phenomerom]

[ For once, he looks at the snake, mostly because it's slid its way right into his field of vision -- meeting its eyes evenly from under the brim of his hat. But even before Messmer's done speaking, he looks up, hand dropping back to his side. Rom barely waits for those last words to drop before responding: ]

You won't ask?

[ Accompanied by an inquisitive tilt of the head. ]

Most would ask. What these commonalities might be. What I mean, what I might be thinking. What's changed since the first ceremony. -- does it perhaps mean nothing to you? It's all the same no matter what my intentions might be?

[anathemaw]

[ There's a pause before he answers. ]

... Thou wouldst tell me, were it thy desire. It is thy freedom to speak, or to keep mum. [ a beat. ] I will not pry thine answers from thee unwilling. Thine intentions are murky, but they doth lack ill intent. Such is my judgement.

[ is he curious? Yes, definitely. But he also isn't going to force Rom to tell him anything. Maybe he's being too soft; at the same time, with the scant bits of knowledge he's been able to gain on the man, he's come to suspect that Rom's squirrely act is more to protect himself than to hurt others. Messmer could hardly blame him for not seeing the ten-foot-tall warlord as one to confide in. ]