Arthur

[Arthur's sitting on his couch, cross-legged, in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. His hair's actually... floppy... for once, which probably makes him look younger than he actually is. He's had a few glasses of wine, which is probably not a good idea, what with the lingering Death Toll effects. His voice isn't slurring, not yet, but it's definitely relaxed. This message is clearly intended for one particular person, but Arthur accidentally botched the filter thanks to the alcohol. This is why you don't drink and blog.]

I know I promised you a bottle of wine. So, you should hurry over before I finish this. [He holds up the bottle.] Particular bottle of wine without you.

[Arthur pours another glass.]

It's not that I'm lonely; I'm bored. I think I've been through every book I own at least twice. I even memorized a poem while I was stuck in bed. [He glances at the camera with a playful look.] It made me think of you. How's your French? [He offers the camera a little smirk, then begins to recite some ~French poetry~, his voice somewhat lyrical from the alcohol.]

De ce terrible paysage,
Tel que jamais mortel n'en vit,
Ce matin encore l'image,
Vague et lointaine, me ravit.

Le sommeil est plein de miracles!
Par un caprice singulier
J'avais banni de ces spectacles
Le végétal irrégulier,

Et, peintre fier de mon génie,
Je savourais dans mon tableau
L'enivrante monotonie
Du métal, du marbre et de l'eau...

[Arthur's going to keep going, tipsily reciting this poem because, IDK, it's about dream architecture kind of I'm terrible with poetry, so I could be totes wrong. It's a somewhat long poem, so ENJOY THAT, BARGE.]

[OOC: SO OBVIOUSLY THIS POST IS FOR ARIADNE. But I didn't want to do a private post, so feel free to troll Arthur or assume he's like, hitting on you or whateverrr.]