CLOCKWORK (OPEN)

[LUNE DUPONT]

[STYLE=width: 400px; padding: 10px; background-color: 2c2c2c;][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-size: 65px; color: 2d93f3;]LOVEDUST[/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; margin-top: -18px; font-size: 48px; color: 2d93f3;]WHAT IS LOVE[/style][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]THESE DAYS I SING THE SONGS WE USED TO SING[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]------------------------------------------------------- ♔ -------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; background-color: e8e8e8; float: left; padding: 3px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 8px; margin-bottom: 1px;][/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px; color: e8e8e8; width: 360px;]A commonly visited location for Lune on the weekends was none other than Central Park. The common sight of streets, cars, and buildings were old after seventeen years of living in them, and Central Park was one of the few options she had to regularly choose from when she desired a bit of nature that she wasn't just creating on her canvases. She sat in a cab, a sketch book laying neatly in her lap, and her elbow resting on the door, propping her head up. Her eyes gazed past the window, examining what they could of the buildings that seemed to run by. Each one varying in size and design; each one as unoriginal as the next. She blinked, and turned her gaze away, instead focusing her stare on her sketch book. She ran her thumb over its edges, not particularly sure what she was doing with it. Of course, she would draw, or attempt to anyways, but artistic muse was lacking for her during the day.

At night, though, her creative mind came alive. Lune was able to set up her canvas by the window when the sun disappeared and paint for hours upon hours. The way the night sky stimulated her painting was the main reason she was never able to stay awake during school. It was about time she grasped how to do things during the daytime though, and so when she had walked out of her bedroom that morning, she had grabbed a sketch book on impulse before leaving home.

The cab slowly pulled itself into a halt, and after Lune had handed the driver enough money to cover the ride, she hopped out the door and onto the path leading into the park. She kept her book of drawings tightly hugged against her as she sulked forward in search of a resting place and something decent to recreate on paper.

Eventually, she stopped to take a seat on an unoccupied bench. She pulled a pencil out of her pocket, and, after quickly glancing from side to side, opened her sketch pad. She slowly flicked through the pages. Some had stray marks that made no sense, and some had attempts at making something remotely decent. When she had flipped to a blank page, she could feel her mouth twitch into a frown as she mentally debated her next move.

She sat there for minutes, pondering the same thing. 'Now what?' And sometimes, she would bring the tip of the pencil against the paper, before backing out and mulling over her thoughts again. She was deep into trying to think of possible ideas when she suddenly realized a shadow looming over her. She looked up, startled and wide eyed. "Are you staring!?" She blurted the accusation out without a second thought, temporarily forgetting how to use a filter.[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]AFTER TODAY PASSES I WILL FORGET WHAT LOVE IS[/style]
[/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 8px;]Made by MINNIE of BTN[/style]

[ROSEMARY MARINO]

Rosemary had been in New York for about a week now, but she had yet to actually explore the sights. Most of her week had been getting settled in her new apartment, getting acquainted with the rest of the small orchestra she had been offered a job with, and getting a hold of all her lost luggage. She hadn't even figured out which light switch went to which lights yet (there had been a night where she just spent a night with the kitchen lights on). After finally getting all her priorities together, though, Rosemary realized that she had yet to even see some of the greatest landmarks of New York. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square. But those could all wait, She needed some actual greenery and Central Park was calling her name.

After taking a couple minutes to figure out the subway route, Rosemary grabbed her messenger bag. She quickly stuffed the essentials in it: her phone, wallet, keys, and the sketchbook that she never went anywhere without. Her sketchbook held everything from pencil drawings of flowers to intense etchings of the disaster that she kept seeing in her dreams. She couldn't be quite sure of the details, but according to her dreams, New York was about to experience being torn apart, quite unlike anything else this city had ever experienced. At least, unless she was able to stop it.

The subway ride was short, although it seemed longer because of all the lecherous men that apparently had gathered for a Perverts Anonymous meeting in her subway car. It was a nice breath of fresh air when Rosie finally escaped the dingy subway and finally set foot in Central Park. It was everything people had cracked it up to be. Central Park was certainly an oasis of green among the steel giants that had taken over the city and Rosemary apparently wasn't the only person who had the idea of relaxing in paradise today. Plenty of other people were all over the park, but her eyes were immediately drawn to another girl over on a bench.

The girl had dark hair and somewhat of an innocent face, but that wasn't what caught Rosie's eye. It was the sketchbook on her lap. Rosemary looked down at her own peeking out of her bag and immediately wondered how good the girl was. Rosie's own drawings were sub par (at least in her own mind, although no one seemed to agree with her) and she naturally compared her art with other peoples'. Being the perfectionist that she was, this never really led to good results, but she found herself wandering over to take a look, anyway.

"Are you staring!?"

The girl was immediately rather rude, but Rosemary's calm facade kept her from reacting at all to the blunt question. "I'm sorry but I noticed your sketch book and I was just wondering what you were drawing," she responded, barely batting an eye, but taking a mental note. The next rude comment this girl threw at her and Rosie would throw one right back. After all, wasn't that was New Yorkers were supposed to do?

* * *

[LUNE DUPONT]

[STYLE=width: 400px; padding: 10px; background-color: 2c2c2c;][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-size: 65px; color: 2d93f3;]LOVEDUST[/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; margin-top: -18px; font-size: 48px; color: 2d93f3;]WHAT IS LOVE[/style][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]THESE DAYS I SING THE SONGS WE USED TO SING[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]------------------------------------------------------- ♔ -------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; background-color: e8e8e8; float: left; padding: 3px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 8px; margin-bottom: 1px;][/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px; color: e8e8e8; width: 360px;]Lune was surprised by the blunt response she received from the small blonde haired girl. She blinked, and slowly shut the notebook. "Oh," she muttered. She folded her hands on top of the sketchbook neatly, staring up at her new, curious friend as she did.

Feint recognition crept into her thoughts.

But that was silly, considering she didn't even know the girls name.

"Well, I guess that's one way of finding out information for yourself," she nervously cleared her throat and shrugged before nodding towards the empty space next to her on the park bench. This girl seemed well enough- albeit very honest- but Lune was now being presented with the opportunity to socialize, and that wasn't something she easily passed up.

She flipped the book back open again to land on a page covered in the shadows of tall shadows of people she had never met, but only glanced at it for a split second before moving on.

No, she didn't like to share those drawings.

The next picture was simple enough. Just a recreation of her view outside her bedroom window.

The one after that was a silhouette of a tall graceful woman; a dress flowing to the ground past her feet. Her very being reeked with sorrow though, and even the blindest of viewers could observe her loneliness.

Skip.

Finally, she settled on a hastily drawn picture of a rose.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled slowly, . "These probably aren't as interesting as you might have thought."[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]AFTER TODAY PASSES I WILL FORGET WHAT LOVE IS[/style]
[/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 8px;]Made by MINNIE of BTN[/style]

[ROSEMARY MARINO]

The girl seemed slightly flustered at Rosemary's reaction for a second, like that hadn't been what she had expected to happen. Rosie began to wonder if she should have just minded her own business and walked away, but then the girl nodded towards the seat beside her on the bench, inviting Rosie to sit down and see the sketchbook she had been so curious about. Well, that was a good sign, right? Rosemary couldn't have been completely socially awkward with her direct response. Since she was in a different country, although French and American customs did not differ much, there was always a sneaking suspicion in the back of her mind that she was doing something wrong or she was being impolite. It was merely a mash up of her perfectionism and her mother's instilled etiquette, but those pestering thoughts would not leave.

The other girl began flipping through her notebook, passing certain pictures and pausing at others. There was a bit of talent there, Rosie noted, although she was trying to refrain from comparing her own sketchings. Rosie's heart almost skipped a beat, though, when the girl quickly passed one picture. There was no way. That was months ago. She had drawn that last January.

"My apologies again, but could you flip back to that picutre? The one of the lady in the gown?" Rosie asked, pulling out her own sketchbook. She must have been imagining things because there was no way that two girls in two different countries had drawn the same picture without having any knowledge of each other's existence. Rosie flipped through her own sketchbook, passing pictures of ruined buildings and one sketch that even looked like a decimated New York, before she settled on one picture.

Comparing her sketch to Luna's, there was no denial of the similarities. While there were two different styles portrayed, Rosemary's drawing of a lady in a floor length gown with the penetrating sadness was an almost identical match to this strange girl's. Her sea green eyes turned to this girl's face, wondering if there was some clue to the matching pictures. However, the girl's face portrayed nothing but a strong innocence to the perils of the world, much unlike Rosemary's eyes which held the burden of all her visions of disaster.

* * *

[LUNE DUPONT]

[STYLE=width: 400px; padding: 10px; background-color: 2c2c2c;][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-size: 65px; color: 2d93f3;]LOVEDUST[/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; margin-top: -18px; font-size: 48px; color: 2d93f3;]WHAT IS LOVE[/style][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]THESE DAYS I SING THE SONGS WE USED TO SING[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]------------------------------------------------------- ♔ -------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; background-color: e8e8e8; float: left; padding: 3px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 8px; margin-bottom: 1px;][/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px; color: e8e8e8; width: 360px;]"Oh," Lune fumbled with the page clumsily in an attempt to turn back to the drawing she had attempted to pass over casually. Those were the personal ones- the ones that made her feel uneasy as she sketched them, the ones that felt close to home, even though she didn't have the slightest idea what made this picture even close to personal. The girl next to her had pulled out her own sketchbook, going through pages with images eerily similar to ones that Lune herself had created. "That's crazy," but even as she thought it, her eyes widened in surprise at the drawings.

Lune suddenly regretted letting this stranger sit down next to her, and even more so regretted showing the stranger her sketches. That regret only swelled to a bigger size in the form of a lump in her throat though, as it became clearer that this wasn't simply some silly coincidence.

And when the girl had landed on an image exact to the one Lune had in front of her in her own sketch book, the only thing she could do was gape. Her eyes were unable to open any further than they were, and her stomach was suddenly flipping about in strange ways.

"My name is Lune."

She felt ridiculous saying it, but it was the only thing she could force out of her mouth after a few minutes of silence between the two of them. The introduction came out rushed, and very obviously nervous, and Lune had yet to make eye contact as she was still comparing the two drawings.

When she had finally looked up though, she saw that the girl had already taken to staring at her.

"T- this is..." she struggled with her words for a moment. A rare event. "This is uncanny, isn't it?"[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]AFTER TODAY PASSES I WILL FORGET WHAT LOVE IS[/style]
[/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 8px;]Made by MINNIE of BTN[/style]

[ROSEMARY MARINO]

Judging by her reaction, Lune seemed to be quite as mystified as Rosie was. Neither girl had ever met before in their life, that much they could be sure of, but the similarities between their sketches could not be denied. And while Rosie knew that the typical reaction in this sort of situation was to be freaked out, she also didn't feel like meeting this odd girl was a bad thing. There was something about her that made Rosemary feel almost comforted.

"Rosemary," was all she seemed to be able to squeeze out in return.

Lune began to speak again and the moment of speechlessness dissipated, letting Rosie recover her usual ladylike facade of manners and serenity.

"This is more than uncanny. These pictures are practically identical. I've seen this lady before. Not as in passing her on the streets, but I see her in my dreams sometimes," Rosemary said, confiding in a complete stranger what she never told anyone. She figured she could make an exception this one time, though, because there was obviously some kind of connection between the two of them. She wasn't sure if this girl was having visions like Rosemary was, but there was obviously some sort of meaning behind their drawings and it needed to be explored.

* * *

[LUNE DUPONT]

[STYLE=width: 400px; padding: 10px; background-color: 2c2c2c;][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-size: 65px; color: 2d93f3;]LOVEDUST[/style][STYLE=text-align: center; font-family: georgia; margin-top: -18px; font-size: 48px; color: 2d93f3;]WHAT IS LOVE[/style][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]THESE DAYS I SING THE SONGS WE USED TO SING[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]------------------------------------------------------- ♔ -------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; background-color: e8e8e8; float: left; padding: 3px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 8px; margin-bottom: 1px;][/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px; color: e8e8e8; width: 360px;]She used a great deal of will power to keep herself from standing up and running away from Rosemary. More than anybody could ever guess or know. Lune ran her fingers across page of her own drawing, slowly shaking her head as she did.

Of course, she thought, blinking wide eyed at Rosemary. Of course she had seen the woman in her dreams. Of course it was so much more than uncanny, because Lune had also seen this very same woman in her dreams. Because lately, nothing was very simple and coincidental for Lune. She only nodded in agreement though, suggesting that she had also seen the woman in her dreams. She would never say it though. That made it too real.

She ran a hand to the edge of the page, flicking it back and forth, as if contemplating what to do next. It was a silly game to her right now.

When in reality it was real and strange and even scary.

So she turned the page, past the woman, past the rose, and to a new image. One covered with the skyline of a bright city, whose centerpiece was a large lightly shaded palace. Lakes, flowers, and stars decorated everything naturally, and the image was impossibly beautiful. Lune bit her lip, deciding to stay on the page. "Don't suppose that you've seen this either?"[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; text-align: center; color: 686868; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -5px;]--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[/style]
[STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 14px; text-align: center; color: f1f1f1; margin-top: -5px;]AFTER TODAY PASSES I WILL FORGET WHAT LOVE IS[/style]
[/style][STYLE=font-family: tahoma; font-size: 8px;]Made by MINNIE of BTN[/style]

[ROSEMARY MARINO]

"Don't suppose that you've seen this either?" Rosemary glanced at this new sketch that she was being shown and frowned slightly. She contemplated for a second on whether of not she should show Lune her version of the very same palace or not, but they had already shared much more than she would have ever shown any of her closest friends so there was no reason not to. She flipped through her sketch book, passing dozens of pictures until she happened upon the one she had been attempting to find.

The sketch was of the very same palace with all the same details. The lakes were there and the flowers in full bloom, but no longer adorning the majestic walls of some mysterious palace. Instead, those walls were crumbled and broken, the pillars toppled over, and the remnants of a shattered moon on the floor. To make the picture even more unsettling, there were faint limp bodies scattered among the wreckage, although they were too far away for any discerning features. However, as unsettling as the picture was, there was also a sense of serenity and peace to it still, oddly enough. It was as if the majesty from Lune's picture had never faded, even after it was destroyed.

Suddenly feeling like she had ruined Lune's picture and her obvious attachment to it, Rosemary shut her sketchbook and tied the ribbons on the side of it together. "My apologies, I should have never shown you these sketches," she said quickly, getting up from the park bench. There was obviously some attachment to this girl but staring at pictures of shattered dreams was not going to help anything.

* * *