Lorril
Baron
Inner Sanctum Nobility
Scene 1: An outdoor table at a little café in Paris in early spring
"Pardon me, may I sit down?"
"Sure, whatever."
They read the morning paper in silence, sipping coffee.
"I'm Edmund."
"I'm Rhys. Nice day isn't it?"
"Yes, though I think the ash is a little bit thicker in the air today. You seem remarkably free of radiation poisoning."
"Thank you, you too. Do you work out?"
Scene 2: The same table, three months later
"Darling, you haven't touched your croissant, is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry Rhys, but the dry heaves are really getting to me today."
"You weren't complaining last night, lover boy...."
Edmund smiles.
"I lost a lot of skin last night."
"Well, your sores really aren't that evident this morning."
"Thanks babe, neither are yours. But we'll have to wash the sheets of all that blood."
Scene 3: The same table, in early fall
An empty table sits unoccupied as a stale wind rushes along the street. The city is quiet, the stench of dead bodies everywhere.
"Pardon me, may I sit down?"
"Sure, whatever."
They read the morning paper in silence, sipping coffee.
"I'm Edmund."
"I'm Rhys. Nice day isn't it?"
"Yes, though I think the ash is a little bit thicker in the air today. You seem remarkably free of radiation poisoning."
"Thank you, you too. Do you work out?"
Scene 2: The same table, three months later
"Darling, you haven't touched your croissant, is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry Rhys, but the dry heaves are really getting to me today."
"You weren't complaining last night, lover boy...."
Edmund smiles.
"I lost a lot of skin last night."
"Well, your sores really aren't that evident this morning."
"Thanks babe, neither are yours. But we'll have to wash the sheets of all that blood."
Scene 3: The same table, in early fall
An empty table sits unoccupied as a stale wind rushes along the street. The city is quiet, the stench of dead bodies everywhere.