An unlikely couple were sitting in the Imperial Palace gardens in Kyoto on a moonlight night, looking at the stars twinkle in the sky and sharing a romantic picnic.
"Och, why can we not be taegether, Seiko?" A strong Nepleslian Scotsman clad in biker's leathers held the hand of a Yamataian princess tenderly and forlornly - and with a brogue thick enough to cut with a bayonet, "Whoy must the wrongdoin's of our ancestors divoide us so?"
"Oh, Malcolm!" The Yamataian princess grabbed the Scotsman, weeping on his arm quietly, "We cannot blame each other for the wrongs of the past!"
"Och, Seiko!" He embraced her tightly, patting her lightly on the back and rubbing the bristles of his beard against her chest, "Only if..."
Then, an Imperial Samurai was watching the couple from a bush afar, breathing heavily and furiously at the misgivings of the princess.
"Cut, that's a wrap!" The director's voice piped up, the cameras stopped rolling, the lights went off and the couple stopped their embrace, and gave each other a high five. The samurai in the bushes stood up and had a sip from a bottle of water, walking offset, "Great cliffhanger folks, come back next week for the next episode."
"Nice work, Luce!" The actress told the Scotsman as she got up and dusted herself off, the holographic portions of set fading away behind her.
"Thanks lass," He stayed on the ground, giving her a wave goodbye as she made her way to the dressing room.
Lucien got up and walked away from set with a smile, when the director gave him a tap on the back on the way out.
"Aye?" He asked his director, a Nekovalkyrja who'd seen her eight years come and go, and was busy putting her artistic talents to directing television programs. She was placid and rarely lost her temper, even during tense scenes.
"Lucien, I've heard that you're quite the physical sort, even getting rough and tumble with mercenaries in Nepleslia," She asked, looking away from him sometimes, "Next week we're going to do a few stunts and our stuntman can't come in, so are you fine with doing stunts?"
"Aye, it's nary a big one, lass," He replied happily, "I can tumble and take a hit for th' sake of the show."
"Great, see you next week,"
"Be well," Lucien said as he began making his way home to the apartment he owned in Kyoto.
A small place, in the Artist's district. Good view, all amenities, small kitchen, shower, one bedroom and a study. The furniture and appliances in the dwelling were very bare-bones and utilitarian, which also kept prices to a minimum. His financial situation was steady, too.
The moment he got into the little apartment, he flopped on the couch and closed the door, getting his biker's gear off and lying down wearing his singlet, heart patterned boxer shorts and a beer in front of the TV. It'd been a long day for him, and he wanted to unwind for a while.
"Och, why can we not be taegether, Seiko?" A strong Nepleslian Scotsman clad in biker's leathers held the hand of a Yamataian princess tenderly and forlornly - and with a brogue thick enough to cut with a bayonet, "Whoy must the wrongdoin's of our ancestors divoide us so?"
"Oh, Malcolm!" The Yamataian princess grabbed the Scotsman, weeping on his arm quietly, "We cannot blame each other for the wrongs of the past!"
"Och, Seiko!" He embraced her tightly, patting her lightly on the back and rubbing the bristles of his beard against her chest, "Only if..."
Then, an Imperial Samurai was watching the couple from a bush afar, breathing heavily and furiously at the misgivings of the princess.
"Cut, that's a wrap!" The director's voice piped up, the cameras stopped rolling, the lights went off and the couple stopped their embrace, and gave each other a high five. The samurai in the bushes stood up and had a sip from a bottle of water, walking offset, "Great cliffhanger folks, come back next week for the next episode."
"Nice work, Luce!" The actress told the Scotsman as she got up and dusted herself off, the holographic portions of set fading away behind her.
"Thanks lass," He stayed on the ground, giving her a wave goodbye as she made her way to the dressing room.
Lucien got up and walked away from set with a smile, when the director gave him a tap on the back on the way out.
"Aye?" He asked his director, a Nekovalkyrja who'd seen her eight years come and go, and was busy putting her artistic talents to directing television programs. She was placid and rarely lost her temper, even during tense scenes.
"Lucien, I've heard that you're quite the physical sort, even getting rough and tumble with mercenaries in Nepleslia," She asked, looking away from him sometimes, "Next week we're going to do a few stunts and our stuntman can't come in, so are you fine with doing stunts?"
"Aye, it's nary a big one, lass," He replied happily, "I can tumble and take a hit for th' sake of the show."
"Great, see you next week,"
"Be well," Lucien said as he began making his way home to the apartment he owned in Kyoto.
A small place, in the Artist's district. Good view, all amenities, small kitchen, shower, one bedroom and a study. The furniture and appliances in the dwelling were very bare-bones and utilitarian, which also kept prices to a minimum. His financial situation was steady, too.
The moment he got into the little apartment, he flopped on the couch and closed the door, getting his biker's gear off and lying down wearing his singlet, heart patterned boxer shorts and a beer in front of the TV. It'd been a long day for him, and he wanted to unwind for a while.
