March 17th, 1895 — St. Patrick’s Fortune Day Festival; Whizzhard Books

Things were more or less back to normal for Tycho Dodonus. At least as normal as it got when you had strange lapses in memory and kept dreaming about a man you were sure you had never met. He had seen this Fortitude Greengrass from afar since then. His chest had throbbed at the sight of him but he was still sure they had not met. Besides the man was married and did not seem to be within his usual social crowd that such things would not wholly matter.

And so the dreams persisted but Tycho had come to enjoy them despite the sore ache in his chest whenever he woke from them. Like his heart was breaking. It fueled his poetry, at least. He'd penned enough for a small book of poetry titled For My Brown Eyes which he'd had published after making sure nothing outright pointed to whom some of these poems were about. You know, besides the fact they had brown eyes.

As he strolled into the Whizzhards portion of the festival, he saw some copies of his book on one of the shelves. He was not usually one to feel shyness but he still felt a small flush of pride arrive in his cheeks. He turned his attention to the ghostly bard. "Have I missed much?" He asked in a whisper to someone nearby.

open to preferably an adult!

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   Fortitude Greengrass

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Cash usually wasn't much for events for children, but now he had a child — and one day the baby would be old enough to want stories. Cash did not know how to tell a child stories. He supposed he was going to Whizzhard Book's in order to learn. He was feeling awkward. He should have brought a child with him; maybe his own.

He was standing with his hands in his pockets and a mystery book under his arm — if he felt too awkward Cash intended to leave — when he heard a voice. Cash turned. Dodonus! He had not yet managed to talk to Ford's former lover, so it was good to run into him so randomly — even if they couldn't really talk here.

"Dodonus," Cash said, in an excited whisper, "No, nothing much — just some early illusions to open the story."

  

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MJ made this!

The excitement he thought he had heard felt a little out of place. He did at least remember meeting the man before during a disaster. There had been something more to the connection, he had a feeling... but it just would not come to him. He decided to just brush it off as being something of his own imagining.

"I am so sad to have missed that. I like a good illusion," Ty said with a chuckle. "Ooh, looks like they are telling the tale of Wendelin the Weird." Now that lady had some kinks.

  

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Liking illusions; that did seem in character with what he knew about Dodonus. He wasn't sure about the stories, either, but — it certainly didn't seem as if Dodonus was wandering around in intense despair. He was going to have to investigate further. "Do you like folktales like this?" Cash asked, quietly. "I'm less familiar."

  

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MJ made this!

"Oh yes! I like all sorts of stories, really. Especially when they are being told by a ghost," he said jovially. If he were to become a ghost, he would delight in regaling people for centuries about his life. He had done his best to live a grand one and intended to keep doing so for years yet. Though even the thought had a hallow feeling to it that he couldn't quite explain to himself. So he chose to shrug it off. Maybe he was hungry.

  

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