Whether the dogs were dressed to match the two of them, or the two of them dressed to match the dogs, was anyone's guess. But match they did, donning a set of theatrical and intricate Hades and Persephone costumes that were arguably deeply unfit for dog walkies.
If it were anyone else.
Their leisurely pace did seem appropriately regal. Thackery had swapped out the majority of his preferred purple for blues and blacks, but the cloak that gently rippled behind him did carry a violet sheen in the evening light. The black crown atop his head, set with some impressive faux stones, was either perfectly balanced without any effort at all on his part, or pinned in place. He'd never tell.
(Of course Thackery had heard about the 'rabid' dogs, and of course he dismissed it as another overuse of the word 'rabid', probably brought on by some kind of social media trend meant for scaring people. He was a PRO. He wasn't worried in the slightest for their safety.)
"Maybe we should stop for selfies and like, a mini-shoot while the lighting's really good?" he asked, ever eager to take more pictures of Malory in particular.
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