RP for darkdoctor

[alainn_aislinn]

It had taken some convincing, but Melissa had always been a persuasive girl. Aislinn liked her, wished Devin hadn't been stupid enough to break up with one the Morrigan had taken an interest in. It could have done him good to reconnect with those in Faerie. But he'd been frightened, and he had left, and she had maintained a quasi-friendship with the girl for her own purposes. The gift. The mark. The way her brown eyes saw things.

And now there was this request, and here she was, lingering in a coffee house, sipping a cup of tea and listening to poetry not even a muse could fix, waiting for an alien who didn't believe in fairies. Well, she didn't believe in aliens, but she was willing to trust the girl's judgment, at least as far as being willing to meet this Doctor she was traveling with.

She'd been amused enough to dress for the occasion in the most fairylike garb she could get away with in a human public. Her auburn curls were pulled half back, tumbling down her back and over her shoulders. She let just enough of the glamour slip so that her skin was whiter, eyes greener and tilted just a bit. She left her ears human-looking, but the hint of a point was there. Her dress was dark green and black, velvet and something silk-like. It was a sundress of a sort, clinging to her skin here and there where it should, and flowing free in other places. Her earrings and necklace were delicate jade leaves, carved by the finest dwarven craftsmen.

Sighing, Aislinn tucked a stray strand of hair back and added more cream to her tea, then glanced around, watching the door for someone who looked like an alien. Hopefully the evening wouldn't be boring, at the very least. And if he really was an alien...A calculating look flashed in her eyes.

Well, that could be very interesting, indeed.

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[darkdoctor.livejournal.com]

The Doctor paused at the door, pensively resting his hand on polished wood. This was an odd venture; he was here to be convinced, to listen, to learn. Usually it was the other way around, or it was he who sent his companion to broaden their horizons.

He might have stolen a glance through the windows, but the glass was distorted, only revealing plays of colour and light and movement. He could ascertain only that it was a peaceful environment, and he'd known as much.

After a moment, he pushed the door open. He would fit in well enough; the frock coat wouldn't seem odd here, nor would the colours. Everything was black, save for his gloves and shirt - thin, smooth, white.

His eyes began to scan the crowd immediately, automatically; swift and thorough, disregarding the stuttering youth on stage.