Owl to Vesper Lynd

[oneof-me.livejournal.com]

Unity really ought to have done this sooner. Unfortunately, she'd wandered into the luau shortly after her sorting, and tried her first cocktail. It hadn't caused her to disintegrate, but it had incapacitated her for a while.

Next time, she'd have to try something more subtle.

Vesper,

I have been Sorted and am now free to drink with you. Are you available this evening?

Unity

Application for Jing from King of Bandit Jing

[kingbandit.livejournal.com]

((OOC: Jing is taken from the anime King of Bandit Jing mostly because the mun doesn't have the manga yet, again anymore. Age wise, he's referred to many times as a 'kid' and 'boy.' The only thing for sure is he's under 20 and more than 10 [there's a flash back to when he was 10 and he doesn't argue when he's told he shouldn't be doing something because he's under 20]. The lack of 's' on 'bandit' is a canon thing [the title of the series is 'King of Bandit Jing' though to an English speaker, it would be more correct to have 'bandits'...ah wells]))

Legends speak of him, whispers in darkness.
He could steal the stars from the sky, the very breath from your lips.
The thief of legend, the king of bandit, know just by the name Jing. He needs no other name.

The stories conjure up the image of someone tall, dark, brooding. Someone very much not like the short, spiky haired kid with the swirly-eyed cat mask perched askew on his head and the bright yellow-orange trench coat.

Someone who looks more like a school boy than a thief. Granted, there's mischief about him, of that you may be sure, but nothing about him screams 'King of Bandit.'

But, those who have met with him come away without their treasures, but somehow richer. He has stolen dreams, he has stolen time itself. But, that which he leaves behind is somehow more precious.

He enters the room, walking, whistling, his hands in his pockets, unconcerned. He is at home wherever he is. The parchment on the table catches his eye, as does the quill standing at attention above it. He wonders, not briefly, what there is here that he shall set as his goal to steal.

Jing listens, looking around a moment. He is waiting for something very familiar, the putting of a motorcycle to come up, for Postino to come by and deliver some cryptic message. But, there is no engine sound, just an impatient noise.

The quill taps, wanting his attention. He leans forward a little to read what is written under it.

( The words amuse more than they enlighten. )