withoutverona: (Looking down)
Four years.

It had been four years since Romeo met Juliet Capulet, and here he was. Still alive, still much more well than he deserved. The girl who had been his wife was fading in his memory, and he wished some part of him didn't see that as a good thing.

He didn't often go to Mass in Japan, but if there were ever a reason for it, this anniversary would serve. The ancient words, the rhythm of it, the incense -- all of it comforted him.

On his way out, he lit two candles: one for Juliet, one for Mercutio.

He hoped somewhere, they had forgiven him.

[OOC: NFB due to distance. Open after he leaves the chapel for phone calls, the girlfriend, etc., if you're willing to deal with a Shakespearean in mourning.]
withoutverona: (True love)
Romeo was running late as usual when he packed to go home for Christmas. He grabbed a handful of shirts from the drawer where he kept his wedding ring, then frowned at the exposed silver circlet. He hadn't even looked at it in months, and now he picked it up, rubbing it between his thumb and a forefinger.

It slipped to the ground.

I dreamt a dream tonight )

The ring rolled across the floor, thudding to a stop next to Romeo's boot. He picked it up again and promptly stashed it back in the drawer, not sure what to make of such a reverie.

It was best, perhaps, not to tell Yurika.

[OOC: IAWL! Up late because I suck, but he's around for a bit if you want to grab him before he heads off.]
withoutverona: (lounging in bed)
Romeo dreamed of Juliet often. Sometimes she kissed him tenderly. Sometimes she slapped his face. Always he awakened from these dreams with a melancholy settled over him.

When he first woke up Monday, then, he thought he'd had an unusually long and vivid version of such a dream.

Nay, that wasn't so, he knew, as soon as he sat up. He wouldn't feel so sick were it only a dream. And, distracted by his own life, he'd not heard radio or noticed the other oddities around town.

The truth to him, then, was simple: He'd broken Juliet's heart. She'd come back, against so many odds and across so many months, and he'd been unable to offer her the love he had once promised.

He wasn't leaving his bed.

[OOC: Closed door, open post.]
withoutverona: (X marks the spot)
Romeo was perhaps not to be blamed if he hadn't much left his room all day. It had been a long week, even before prom and after prom.

But then he had met his children, one then two and a third. And for a few days, children had been everywhere -- having pizza for dinner, demanding waffles and video games, even following him to work and Caritas, where he learned he might well see Juliet's face on a different person entirely in a few short days.

And then it was time to say goodbye.

All of this had made him dig Juliet's wedding ring out of the drawer where it made its home, and he was idly spinning it in his palm, half-jealous of the Romeo whose wife wore it in Seraphina's world. But only half; he knew he saw other futures, even happy ones, for himself.

It was an odd feeling.

[Door closed but knockable.]
withoutverona: (Montague)
It had been three hard days of travel, and Romeo had sold near everything save his clothing and his gun to raise the costs of the trip, desperately hoping he would do something that was worth it. He wasn't sure how, but somehow everyone in Italy could tell he was an outsider, and charged him correspondingly higher prices. And then there had been the confusion over who, exactly, he wanted. Montague, it turned out, was French, an Ellis Island change; the family name in Italy was Montecchi.

After all of it, though, Romeo was here at what he assumed had to be his great-great-grandfather's home. He squinted at it; it seemed awfully ... small, smaller than he had imagined, and there was a pen of squealing pigs right next to the stucco farmhouse. Nothing smelled terribly good.

But all greatness starts somewhere, and Romeo had to assume this was where part of his family's story started. Tentatively, he knocked on the wooden front door.

Cut for preplay )

[OOC: NFB, NFI, and a very special thanks to [livejournal.com profile] the_merriest for being my Angelo. OOC = love.]

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Romeo Montague

August 2012

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