Unmasked

[brave_heart_verity]

Verity's sitting on one of the benches around the Forum, all pink braids and French stripes and soft jeans, idly fingering a new ring and studying a brochure someone handed her. Not the Brochure, just a flier for a temporary costume shop. (Both the shop and the costumes being temporary, one of those things is very important when the other disappears.) The pictures are bright and cheerful, almost inappropriately so. This is a highly sanitized, 'safe' for 'children' sort of Halloween being peddled. Meanwhile, Bobbi sniffs around to check for changes to the area and signs of adventure. She's a pupper of valor and courage, ready to take on any strange sniffs and mysterious smells.

"Is your Halloween tradition to put a mask on, or take one off?" The question begins when she lifts her attention to the wider worlds and does the now-habitual mental and visual sweep of her surroundings. As casually as it's asked, she knows this is a deeply probing question, so she'll give anyone wary of answering an easy out. "You coming to the Ball?"

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[brave_heart_verity]

And it helps when they feed themselves. They can't live on cake and ice cream alone. That's one trick they've never learned. (She's been more interested in Thai rolled ice cream lately. The hipster stuff is so far away now, and belongs to a part of her life she's had to let end.)

Stripes are like infinite roads. Options. Places for the lost to go and feel like they have a direction in life. They're lucky to have found themselves in the same set of stripes. So coordinated. And they found each other, too.

"I'm not worried." Her feet shift slightly so she can better support him; it's the sort of unconscious move people learn to make. "All you have to worry about if it doesn't go well is endless ridicule from our friends and my disappointment. But no pressure."