<Megan> Megan threw an arm across her face and groaned. It was high time she do something about the broken blinds. They did jack **** in blocking the morning’s first rays of sunlight. “For ****’s sake...” She muttered, resigning herself to the fact that there was no way she was going to get back to sleep. As much as she loved summer, the six am sunrises were becoming a pain in the ***. Rubbing at her eye, the blonde fished her phone out from the bungled sheets. “****,” she muttered at the timestamp on the screen, at a loss of what to do with herself at this hour. It was going to be a long *** day, with nothing to look forward to, not unless... She remembered the Monarch’s message three days prior and tapped her lower lip thoughtfully with the phone.
Having proposed nothing more than a time and a place, Monarch had given her the bare necessities. In turn, she kept her confirmation short and hit ‘send’. There was no point in waiting around for a reply, not to that, not at this hour, not from any sane person who didn’t have shitty blinds like hers. Then again, maybe the Monarch did... Who was she to make any assumptions? Shrugging to herself at the thought, the sorceress peeled the sheets off her body. Night sweats, again. She tossed the phone onto the bed when she got up, frustrated. Maybe after a long shower she’d warm up to the prospect of leaving the house at all.
<Lincoln King> He was an early riser, whether he wanted to be or not, and the weekends were no different. Lincoln had crawled from the warm embrace of his silken sheets by the time the sun had barely risen, tugging on his jogging clothes and facing the brisk morning. Hours were wasted with jogging around town, swimming away the excess energy and a shower that was considered far too long to be anything other than completely luxurious. There was something that had been nagging at him for a few days, a casual mention that he’d be taking himself to brunch on Sunday, after the idea had been given to him by someone on the forum. He’d invited them to meet him, giving the restaurant name, a time and a brief description of himself to accompany it.
It was, potentially, foolish but he was trying to treat himself to a bit of social time, good food and a lot of drinks. After all, it was the last weekend before his 27th birthday. Conventional celebrations had long since lost their appeal, and a quiet self-indulgent few days were far more to Lincoln’s tastes now that he’d mostly snuck away from the clutches of his familial expectations. You didn’t get to be a King without some of the world’s weight on your shoulders, after all. With that in mind he’d arrived as promised at the restaurant around 11.30 a.m., choosing a lovely table out the back in the garden section, a large umbrella providing shade enough to enjoy the day without the risk of sunburn. He sipped at his coffee, occasionally stretching out his arms, letting his exposed forearms catch the sun in a way that had his lightly tanned skin glowing golden as it caught at the fine blonde hair that dusted them. While he was content enough to enjoy his own company, a book atop the table if he found himself alone with time to read, he held secret hope that he’d have someone to share a meal with.
- Outfit
<Megan> The rivulets of warm water coursing down her body soothed her muscles. Whatever it was that plagued her dreams was beginning to affect the quality of her sleep, leading to unwelcome aches and unpredictable mood swings. Pressing her forehead to the tile, Megan made a colossal effort in releasing the tension and negativity fostered by too little sleep. Water was her favoured element; something about it soothed her soul. Resolved to get over the day’s bad start, she visualised her plan for the morning, calculating the timing of chores so that she could check the bulk of her list off before meeting at eleven-thirty.
By quarter to eleven, the sorceress had changed her sheets and hung the washed ones up to dry in the back yard, swept her bathroom and bedroom floor, taken the trash out, and sorted through her shelf in the fridge to determine what groceries to buy upon her return. By eleven fifteen, she caught the transit due south, hoping it wouldn’t delay her anymore than she already was. There was something rather satisfying about a near-empty car; the sounds she usually missed due the habitual hum of background conversation and body shufflin were audible, for a change. By eleven forty-five, after heading down two wrong streets on two different occasions, Megan found the restaurant with some help from Google Maps... Brushing off the hostess with a saccharine smile, she made for the back of the establishment and paused by the garden’s entrance in search of someone matching the given description. Upon spotting a possible contender, she moved towards him.
“Monarch, is it?”
- Wearing
<Lincoln King> He adjusted the vintage style sunglasses that had slid somewhat down the bridge of his nose, glad for the sunshine and for the fact that he’d been able to ditch his jacket to the back of his chair. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, the garden was remarkably peacefully, beautifully kept and with only a few people quietly conversing. A strange calm had come over him, comfortable where he sat, where he was right now. It was unusual for the bold young entrepreneur, often too afraid to sit still long enough to explore his own thoughts when it wasn’t to do with business or how to further grow them without losing touch.
Linc’s hands had eventually settled at the back of his head, knotted in the longer lengths of dark blonde hair at his crown while stared wistfully off into the middle distance, absorbed in the very thoughts he tried so hard to deny. When a shadow passed over him, interrupting the limited sunshine he’d managed to secure for himself with a subtle shift of his chair, he let his vision adjust. Lincoln had expected it to be the waitress offering to take his order, or perhaps someone from work or one of clients who had recognised him. The woman in front of him didn’t so much greet him as ask his identity. This had to be her, then, the one who he’d haphazardly invited out to brunch on a social whim. Here she stood, apparently accepting his invitation.
He rose from the chair, trying not to stand to his full and impressive height, instead holding a casual lean as he presented his hand. “Lincoln, actually. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”
<Megan> “..Megan,” she replied, dimples on display as she shook his hand with a strong grip. Dropping her arm to the side, she glanced at the table. It was a nice spot, equal parts shaded and in the sun. A good breakfast and a little (welcome) sunshine would nicely amplify the satisfaction she felt at having been productive up until now.
“Sorry I’m late, I got lost, and…” She shook her hand dismissing the uninteresting details, moving around the table to stake her claim on a chair. It was without explanation that Megan tugged the chosen chair closer to him, preferring to sit on his left in order to keep her good ear facing him. As she settled, she peered at him curiously. “...are you a model or something? You look,” she moved her hand across her face, difficulty pushing the word off the tip of her tongue, “Familiar.”
<Lincoln King> The shake was surprisingly firm, tempered by the dimples that appeared as she smiled. “Megan,” He repeated, giving her a broad smile, “A pleasure. Please, sit.” He released her hand, gesturing to the table to allow her to choose her place. Lincoln remained standing until she had chosen, laughing at her explanation and apology, waving it off as he too took a seat. “That’s ok, i’m glad you decided to come. I know it might seem kind of strange to invite someone you don’t know out to brunch, but I thought why not?” It was her suggestion, though he supposed she’d meant it more as a group activity not just one on one, but Linc wasn’t convinced brunch was the best setting for a group catch up. Perhaps a garden party instead.
He settled back in his chair, watching the hand movements she made around her face, the question making him chuckle. “Ah, no. I am the CEO of a few businesses, i’ve held events and I guess my face has been splashed around a few magazines. If you read boring magazines about stocks and markets, that is.” He suggested, the best explanation he could of for his familiar face. Somewhere in the back of his mind though he had a mildly uncomfortable thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d met his face driven by another man. Occasionally when Kingsley was in control he blacked out, unable to recall what had happened when things went really downhill. It was rare, but it had happened. In some ways it was nice, for a man with a photographic memory to be able to actually forget something.
<Megan> There were many things in Harper Rock that fell under the kind of strange label. (Not that Megan would instigate any conversation regarding the many happenings that did.) All things considered, brunching on a Sunday was as normal as one could get... on a Sunday.
“Yeup, boring magazines. That must be it,” she agreed with a serious nod, the uncurrent of sarcasm delivered too good naturedly to hit its mark. Setting her purse down onto the empty chair to her left, Megan took in their surroundings more attentively. It was a beautiful establishment that oozed class, the sort of place she could now afford to frequent on occasion but wouldn’t venture into unprompted. It was great to meet new people and discover new things. Leaning back into the chair, she crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands over her stomach, returning her attention to Lincoln.
Having proposed nothing more than a time and a place, Monarch had given her the bare necessities. In turn, she kept her confirmation short and hit ‘send’. There was no point in waiting around for a reply, not to that, not at this hour, not from any sane person who didn’t have shitty blinds like hers. Then again, maybe the Monarch did... Who was she to make any assumptions? Shrugging to herself at the thought, the sorceress peeled the sheets off her body. Night sweats, again. She tossed the phone onto the bed when she got up, frustrated. Maybe after a long shower she’d warm up to the prospect of leaving the house at all.
<Lincoln King> He was an early riser, whether he wanted to be or not, and the weekends were no different. Lincoln had crawled from the warm embrace of his silken sheets by the time the sun had barely risen, tugging on his jogging clothes and facing the brisk morning. Hours were wasted with jogging around town, swimming away the excess energy and a shower that was considered far too long to be anything other than completely luxurious. There was something that had been nagging at him for a few days, a casual mention that he’d be taking himself to brunch on Sunday, after the idea had been given to him by someone on the forum. He’d invited them to meet him, giving the restaurant name, a time and a brief description of himself to accompany it.
It was, potentially, foolish but he was trying to treat himself to a bit of social time, good food and a lot of drinks. After all, it was the last weekend before his 27th birthday. Conventional celebrations had long since lost their appeal, and a quiet self-indulgent few days were far more to Lincoln’s tastes now that he’d mostly snuck away from the clutches of his familial expectations. You didn’t get to be a King without some of the world’s weight on your shoulders, after all. With that in mind he’d arrived as promised at the restaurant around 11.30 a.m., choosing a lovely table out the back in the garden section, a large umbrella providing shade enough to enjoy the day without the risk of sunburn. He sipped at his coffee, occasionally stretching out his arms, letting his exposed forearms catch the sun in a way that had his lightly tanned skin glowing golden as it caught at the fine blonde hair that dusted them. While he was content enough to enjoy his own company, a book atop the table if he found himself alone with time to read, he held secret hope that he’d have someone to share a meal with.
- Outfit
<Megan> The rivulets of warm water coursing down her body soothed her muscles. Whatever it was that plagued her dreams was beginning to affect the quality of her sleep, leading to unwelcome aches and unpredictable mood swings. Pressing her forehead to the tile, Megan made a colossal effort in releasing the tension and negativity fostered by too little sleep. Water was her favoured element; something about it soothed her soul. Resolved to get over the day’s bad start, she visualised her plan for the morning, calculating the timing of chores so that she could check the bulk of her list off before meeting at eleven-thirty.
By quarter to eleven, the sorceress had changed her sheets and hung the washed ones up to dry in the back yard, swept her bathroom and bedroom floor, taken the trash out, and sorted through her shelf in the fridge to determine what groceries to buy upon her return. By eleven fifteen, she caught the transit due south, hoping it wouldn’t delay her anymore than she already was. There was something rather satisfying about a near-empty car; the sounds she usually missed due the habitual hum of background conversation and body shufflin were audible, for a change. By eleven forty-five, after heading down two wrong streets on two different occasions, Megan found the restaurant with some help from Google Maps... Brushing off the hostess with a saccharine smile, she made for the back of the establishment and paused by the garden’s entrance in search of someone matching the given description. Upon spotting a possible contender, she moved towards him.
“Monarch, is it?”
- Wearing
<Lincoln King> He adjusted the vintage style sunglasses that had slid somewhat down the bridge of his nose, glad for the sunshine and for the fact that he’d been able to ditch his jacket to the back of his chair. It felt good to be out in the fresh air, the garden was remarkably peacefully, beautifully kept and with only a few people quietly conversing. A strange calm had come over him, comfortable where he sat, where he was right now. It was unusual for the bold young entrepreneur, often too afraid to sit still long enough to explore his own thoughts when it wasn’t to do with business or how to further grow them without losing touch.
Linc’s hands had eventually settled at the back of his head, knotted in the longer lengths of dark blonde hair at his crown while stared wistfully off into the middle distance, absorbed in the very thoughts he tried so hard to deny. When a shadow passed over him, interrupting the limited sunshine he’d managed to secure for himself with a subtle shift of his chair, he let his vision adjust. Lincoln had expected it to be the waitress offering to take his order, or perhaps someone from work or one of clients who had recognised him. The woman in front of him didn’t so much greet him as ask his identity. This had to be her, then, the one who he’d haphazardly invited out to brunch on a social whim. Here she stood, apparently accepting his invitation.
He rose from the chair, trying not to stand to his full and impressive height, instead holding a casual lean as he presented his hand. “Lincoln, actually. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”
<Megan> “..Megan,” she replied, dimples on display as she shook his hand with a strong grip. Dropping her arm to the side, she glanced at the table. It was a nice spot, equal parts shaded and in the sun. A good breakfast and a little (welcome) sunshine would nicely amplify the satisfaction she felt at having been productive up until now.
“Sorry I’m late, I got lost, and…” She shook her hand dismissing the uninteresting details, moving around the table to stake her claim on a chair. It was without explanation that Megan tugged the chosen chair closer to him, preferring to sit on his left in order to keep her good ear facing him. As she settled, she peered at him curiously. “...are you a model or something? You look,” she moved her hand across her face, difficulty pushing the word off the tip of her tongue, “Familiar.”
<Lincoln King> The shake was surprisingly firm, tempered by the dimples that appeared as she smiled. “Megan,” He repeated, giving her a broad smile, “A pleasure. Please, sit.” He released her hand, gesturing to the table to allow her to choose her place. Lincoln remained standing until she had chosen, laughing at her explanation and apology, waving it off as he too took a seat. “That’s ok, i’m glad you decided to come. I know it might seem kind of strange to invite someone you don’t know out to brunch, but I thought why not?” It was her suggestion, though he supposed she’d meant it more as a group activity not just one on one, but Linc wasn’t convinced brunch was the best setting for a group catch up. Perhaps a garden party instead.
He settled back in his chair, watching the hand movements she made around her face, the question making him chuckle. “Ah, no. I am the CEO of a few businesses, i’ve held events and I guess my face has been splashed around a few magazines. If you read boring magazines about stocks and markets, that is.” He suggested, the best explanation he could of for his familiar face. Somewhere in the back of his mind though he had a mildly uncomfortable thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d met his face driven by another man. Occasionally when Kingsley was in control he blacked out, unable to recall what had happened when things went really downhill. It was rare, but it had happened. In some ways it was nice, for a man with a photographic memory to be able to actually forget something.
<Megan> There were many things in Harper Rock that fell under the kind of strange label. (Not that Megan would instigate any conversation regarding the many happenings that did.) All things considered, brunching on a Sunday was as normal as one could get... on a Sunday.
“Yeup, boring magazines. That must be it,” she agreed with a serious nod, the uncurrent of sarcasm delivered too good naturedly to hit its mark. Setting her purse down onto the empty chair to her left, Megan took in their surroundings more attentively. It was a beautiful establishment that oozed class, the sort of place she could now afford to frequent on occasion but wouldn’t venture into unprompted. It was great to meet new people and discover new things. Leaning back into the chair, she crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands over her stomach, returning her attention to Lincoln.
