10-18-2018, 07:49 PM
Hallow’s eve was a great time. Greeting strangers and munching on their candy? That was for sissies. No, the real joy derived from the parties, as well as the costumes - especially the libidinous ones bore by broads. Unluckily for him, Tanglewood had no desirable sweethearts to choose from - excluding his Ophelia, but she was apparently gone - so perhaps this shindig would lure some attractive femmes... and their costumes.
For Leroy, he was quite proud of his costume. It was nowhere near as flamboyant as Delilah’s, the medic having a stripped getup resembling that of a bee (those were scary, alright). Nay, it was simple and quick to the point, and had the potential to be interpreted differently: a black, woollen balaclava, encasing his entire face in its fuzziness, barring his snout, maw, and hardy amber eyes. Leroy viewed himself as a Slav in the disguise. Racist? Undoubtedly. However, he’d been practicing real hard on his Russian accent, that which was completely unnecessary, but practical.
From a distance, he saw it - a magnificent, ebon monstrosity of a beast. On a completely normal occasion, Leroy would go out of his way to avoid an abomination of Talyn’s likeness, yet, today he was not Leroy - he was Vlad. Equipped with a theatrical swagger, he’d mosey towards the tall reptile with ease, the being likely, and optimistically, here on friendly terms. Optimistically, too, he had a sliver of a sense of humour. "Zat’s one helluva costume, comrade," the gray canine quipped in his mock accent, regarding Talyn’s petrifying stature. Either he was currently being the king of comedy, or an appetizer.
Needless to say, he had rediscovered his stash of whisky once more, prior to the festival.
For Leroy, he was quite proud of his costume. It was nowhere near as flamboyant as Delilah’s, the medic having a stripped getup resembling that of a bee (those were scary, alright). Nay, it was simple and quick to the point, and had the potential to be interpreted differently: a black, woollen balaclava, encasing his entire face in its fuzziness, barring his snout, maw, and hardy amber eyes. Leroy viewed himself as a Slav in the disguise. Racist? Undoubtedly. However, he’d been practicing real hard on his Russian accent, that which was completely unnecessary, but practical.
From a distance, he saw it - a magnificent, ebon monstrosity of a beast. On a completely normal occasion, Leroy would go out of his way to avoid an abomination of Talyn’s likeness, yet, today he was not Leroy - he was Vlad. Equipped with a theatrical swagger, he’d mosey towards the tall reptile with ease, the being likely, and optimistically, here on friendly terms. Optimistically, too, he had a sliver of a sense of humour. "Zat’s one helluva costume, comrade," the gray canine quipped in his mock accent, regarding Talyn’s petrifying stature. Either he was currently being the king of comedy, or an appetizer.
Needless to say, he had rediscovered his stash of whisky once more, prior to the festival.