festival of flowers.

[ With intentions as good as the promise had been empty, Royce flicks his gaze once more to the clock in the corner of his tablet GUI and accepts that he can already expect a scolding for breaking his word and staying behind this long, indoors, cooped up with the many programs and tools and sketches that make up his work while it's such a beautiful day out there. It's not as though it'd be the first time—friends and colleagues know Royce Bracket as man almost singularly devoted to his art, maybe to the point of social discomfort. Really, he'd said he'd come down more to get rid of the distraction of being asked than anything, and now would you look at the pickle he's in. A misstep, definitely a misstep of sorts.

Well... the activity seeping in from the campus down below (for his purposes, Green Valley's facilities are second maybe only to his own, and what alumnus wouldn't want to take advantage?) is certainly not without charm. Bustling gently, the many layers of voices on voices a cheery and nearly palpable flower-scented buzz through the open windows, and truly what is the point, Royce reasons to himself, of putting all this work into a city if you don't bother to enjoy it once in a while?

So that's it. It's settled, then. So begins Royce's descent down the nearest staircase, looking every bit like he could be faculty with his buttoned-up attire and the stack of materials under one arm. It's a testament to the fact that he's not faculty that he will be cheerfully observing any and all shenanigans that might occur around him without much judgment, as well as sparking up a cigarette as he eventually retreats to a polite distance away from the contest.

At least, this is the plan. ]

from dawn to dusk.

[ These murders, they're—well, "troubling" feels like an understatement, doesn't it, but they are troubling. That is certainly the case. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in the why of it all. Bit morbid, as topics go, but... yet...

Anyway, he's been sleeping even less than usual lately. Is that why it feels like this? Like a dream. It's like he's not quite... himself, in a sense.

But it's less unusual than he would've guessed. Oh, he's definitely hallucinating, at least, phone glowing as if wreathed in fire, but then there it is: he's not alone anymore. Is he. It's...

Exciting, now, isn't it? ]

< !-- hello world? royce --! >

wildcard.

[ hit me! ]