mirror [r]

It was extremely amusing, how grapes in the Underworld tasted exactly the same as grapes in the world of the living. Or maybe they didn’t really taste the same, and it was just Lysander’s taste buds that had gone awry, used to the flavour of the artificial phantom foods that were clearly an imitation of what human beings that were still alive had the privilege to dine upon. Whichever it was, grapes were still grapes, or maybe artificial grapes were still…artificial grapes – whatever, it didn’t matter, so long as they still tasted “good” and were still a source of nutrition. Could you get nutrition in the Underworld? Did it still count as nutrition? Perhaps, if one stripped grapes down to their atomic layers, one would notice that the grapes of the Underworld were completely different to the grapes of the living.

That didn’t change the fact, though, that grapes were, fundamentally, boring things. They were round and came in different colours, but for the most part they didn’t taste all that different. In all his half a decade of living in the Underworld, Lysander had yet to find a grape that tasted particularly exotic. Even these red grapes – his favourite, by far, because they were more sweet than they were sour, and he’d never been fond of sour things – weren’t amazing. They were a treat he’d purchased for himself the evening before as a “reward” for all his hard work at the bar, because serving all the lowlifes alcohol and then beating out the really annoying, bad drunks wasn’t exactly the most luxurious job in the world. Every once in a while, you just had to get yourself something nice, you know?

He hummed a light tune under his breath as he continued his merry stroll down one of Wisp’s Park’s roads, evidently enjoying himself. There was just something about the atmosphere that predicted a "good day", although what a good day was, he really had no idea. A good day might constitute finding a discarded coin, or witnessing a sunset, or finding his sister. Or, no, actually. The very last one counted as something other than good, and he mentally hand-waved the thought away, anger marring his previously good mood and doing an excellent job souring his entire disposition. This really couldn't do, he decided, one hand coming up to fidget at his hat, and he'd just about made up his mind to turn back and simply leave the park when a glitter caught his attention. It was unlike the glitter of a sparkle or something of the sort; it was, in fact, the glitter of glass, which meant that it actually gleamed and was quite good at nearly blinding him.

Focusing his gaze on the glint, Lysander realized that the light that had caught his attention was, in fact, a lady sitting all by her lonesome. And that really couldn't do, and perhaps beginning a conversation with her could take his mind off of less amiable things. And thus, without further ado, he approached her, pausing a moment before speaking. ”A lovely afternoon, isn’t it, miss,” he said, pleasantly, donning a chipper smile. ”Would you care for a grape?” Yes, yes he was carrying a bowl of grapes. A plastic bowl, so it wasn’t really heavy nor was there the danger of it breaking into many tiny glass pieces. There was absolutely nothing wrong with carrying bowls of food around – in fact, they were quite effective at tripping people, if such a need ever happened to arise. Now, though, he wasn’t all that intent on tripping anyone, and Lysander held the bowl out to the glass-wearing lady, still smiling pleasantly.