shiningamisgirl
“So—if you can explain it to me one more time? Your role in this—is it a play?” Asking the question with a bit of cheek as he readjusted the strap of Aelius’s duffle over his shoulder once more. Happy to play pack mule and prod at the boy for details. Not so much because the technicalities were important, or because he cared to hear the name of the upcoming show repeated, but more-so due to the fact that he’d grown to like watching Aelius discuss the craft he’d clearly spent his life refining. The boy loved dance, that much was true. More than loved, Waru thought. To have kept up with it this long, to have continued it; in spite of past hurts and long healed wounds.
Waru realized he’d never asked Aelius much in the way of ‘why’ dance was Aelius’s chosen passion? Had hardly asked after any of Aelius’s hobbies, myriad and rich as they were. From piano playing and art admiring to —
But he was the poorest company for those kinds of conversations, he knew, and that his strengths lay in watching for bursts of light across a person's face when they talked; hungering for pouting features, for playful huffs and sighs. He loved to cling at boot heels and pull at conversational threads as if they were difficult to untie laces; messy and graceless in his own right, but he supposed that if he did anything with enough strength behind it then he’d eventually get somewhere!
After all? He’d never asked after Faustites shattered China cups — but had steadily encouraged getting more, growing the collection — and maybe if he gently teased his boy about it and the pieces Waru thought most needed? About joke mugs and fancy honey stirrers that looked like they belonged in an adult shop instead of a coffee cup —
If he got details that way —
Or like this? Asking Aelius to go on like he hadn’t been listening while they walked home after one of those ‘why is this so late?’ classes. Just to see which new face this would churn up, which old reaction. As if Aelius could make the passion into a living entity that he could pet and coo over until he had a far better understanding of it in his own base way.
At least that was somewhat his goal as they walked the scenic route home — there was ample time to kill, he’d insisted. He’d never minded the long way round.
Waru realized he’d never asked Aelius much in the way of ‘why’ dance was Aelius’s chosen passion? Had hardly asked after any of Aelius’s hobbies, myriad and rich as they were. From piano playing and art admiring to —
But he was the poorest company for those kinds of conversations, he knew, and that his strengths lay in watching for bursts of light across a person's face when they talked; hungering for pouting features, for playful huffs and sighs. He loved to cling at boot heels and pull at conversational threads as if they were difficult to untie laces; messy and graceless in his own right, but he supposed that if he did anything with enough strength behind it then he’d eventually get somewhere!
After all? He’d never asked after Faustites shattered China cups — but had steadily encouraged getting more, growing the collection — and maybe if he gently teased his boy about it and the pieces Waru thought most needed? About joke mugs and fancy honey stirrers that looked like they belonged in an adult shop instead of a coffee cup —
If he got details that way —
Or like this? Asking Aelius to go on like he hadn’t been listening while they walked home after one of those ‘why is this so late?’ classes. Just to see which new face this would churn up, which old reaction. As if Aelius could make the passion into a living entity that he could pet and coo over until he had a far better understanding of it in his own base way.
At least that was somewhat his goal as they walked the scenic route home — there was ample time to kill, he’d insisted. He’d never minded the long way round.
kolina
“I swear you only ever half listen to stuff unless it’s some kind of reference to sex.” He teased with a smile and a whisper of a chuckle. Waru coming to pick him up after class had been surprising but comfortingly sweet. Like a hot mug of cocoa on a cold winter day. Warm and encompassing. The man had divested Aelius of his bag, schlepped it on his shoulder, and away they went through the darkness of the now early nights. Street lights guided their way down the sidewalks.
He sighed, eyes casting upwards to the stars that were hidden by the city’s glow. “I am playing the Cavalier. I have a dance with the Sugar Plum Fairy.” He looked at Waru out of the corner of his eye, the man’s focus still squarely upon Aelius. Such interest and focus on him felt new. Refreshing. Maybe it was because Waru, in all intents and purposes, was a new important person in his life. Well…recognized as an important person and not relegated to someone Aelius felt he needed to deny himself. Funny, how something as simple as acknowledging one’s feelings and letting things just happen could make life just a touch more enjoyable.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you haven’t seen the show before. A lot of people know of it, but haven’t ever bothered to go see a production of it. I swear every ballet company does a production of it in the holiday months but it’s an easy money-maker. Plus it showcases a lot of different talent.”
He hummed slightly to himself, specifically a few bars from ‘dance of the sugarplum fairy’ that was stuck in his head. “It’s not a play. Well…it has some play-like aspects and some roles don’t really dance much, but it’s very much a ballet. Most of the story is told through dance.”
Even if the night wasn’t necessarily cold, actually it was quite warm for November, Aelius sidled himself close to Waru, brushing a hand against the man’s before capturing it with his own. “I get two comp tickets for it. If you’re interested you can come watch. A lot of people consider it a christmas tradition to see a production of it.”
A child who it seemed was having a hard time following his mother out of curiosity for the newly hung christmas lights on a business nearly ran into Aelius. The man practically was forced to side-step into Waru to avoid a head on collision with the kid who couldn’t have been older than 4. His mother apologized as she hurried by to grab the child’s hand. Aelius offered her a wave and a smile.
“Have you ever seen a live production of a ballet, play or musical?” Curiosity to learn more about Waru’s history and interests was ever evolving. Slipping questions in here and there when he could or something inspired him to ask.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever said if you’re interested much in any of the arts, honestly.”
He sighed, eyes casting upwards to the stars that were hidden by the city’s glow. “I am playing the Cavalier. I have a dance with the Sugar Plum Fairy.” He looked at Waru out of the corner of his eye, the man’s focus still squarely upon Aelius. Such interest and focus on him felt new. Refreshing. Maybe it was because Waru, in all intents and purposes, was a new important person in his life. Well…recognized as an important person and not relegated to someone Aelius felt he needed to deny himself. Funny, how something as simple as acknowledging one’s feelings and letting things just happen could make life just a touch more enjoyable.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you haven’t seen the show before. A lot of people know of it, but haven’t ever bothered to go see a production of it. I swear every ballet company does a production of it in the holiday months but it’s an easy money-maker. Plus it showcases a lot of different talent.”
He hummed slightly to himself, specifically a few bars from ‘dance of the sugarplum fairy’ that was stuck in his head. “It’s not a play. Well…it has some play-like aspects and some roles don’t really dance much, but it’s very much a ballet. Most of the story is told through dance.”
Even if the night wasn’t necessarily cold, actually it was quite warm for November, Aelius sidled himself close to Waru, brushing a hand against the man’s before capturing it with his own. “I get two comp tickets for it. If you’re interested you can come watch. A lot of people consider it a christmas tradition to see a production of it.”
A child who it seemed was having a hard time following his mother out of curiosity for the newly hung christmas lights on a business nearly ran into Aelius. The man practically was forced to side-step into Waru to avoid a head on collision with the kid who couldn’t have been older than 4. His mother apologized as she hurried by to grab the child’s hand. Aelius offered her a wave and a smile.
“Have you ever seen a live production of a ballet, play or musical?” Curiosity to learn more about Waru’s history and interests was ever evolving. Slipping questions in here and there when he could or something inspired him to ask.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever said if you’re interested much in any of the arts, honestly.”
strickenized
One of the crowd ahead paused, perturbed, now stranded like a stone in the river of people. The girl ahead paused as well, looking back at him. Their voices were indistinguishable from the meaningless hum of people around them. An earnest tug on the boy's arm brought them back into step with the rest of those who were out enjoying an uncharacteristically warm November night.
The noise that caught the boy's attention was faint – hardly noticeable above the bustle of city life, so far away it was. But for those who knew well the sound of conflict, that sound was easily picked up. However distant they were, someone shrieked for help.Just once.
Even the most astute listeners started second-guessing themselves when there came no follow-up cry. No beg for assistance. No call for 911. Perhaps nerves played on them for being out at night. Maybe they imagined it. Or maybe the silence meant there was nothing left to do for the distant stranger. For some, it was cold comfort to keep walking, and for others, it was a reminder of how the city's rash of disappearances were never reasonably explained.
The noise that caught the boy's attention was faint – hardly noticeable above the bustle of city life, so far away it was. But for those who knew well the sound of conflict, that sound was easily picked up. However distant they were, someone shrieked for help.Just once.
Even the most astute listeners started second-guessing themselves when there came no follow-up cry. No beg for assistance. No call for 911. Perhaps nerves played on them for being out at night. Maybe they imagined it. Or maybe the silence meant there was nothing left to do for the distant stranger. For some, it was cold comfort to keep walking, and for others, it was a reminder of how the city's rash of disappearances were never reasonably explained.
shiningamisgirl
“Well if there’s no sex in any of it thennn—“ tongue pressed to teeth he let the trailing sound drag out, teased Aelius with a grin that lived in the corners of his eyes and the curve of his mouth. The truth was mixed, he’d seen things he couldn’t pull the names of, only ever the experience. Memories of drag shows, horror theaters, townies putting on plays at the local level. Professional dinner theater affairs filled with Knight looking musketeers flowing onto a stage to fake fight and he was only half watching; only there at all because Aramis demanded to see the play of her namesake and all its sequels.
A myriad of museum trips and the city's yearly art shows — impromptu and planned alike. He went with others and enjoyed going. But only ever for them a list of names and faces and the awe present in their eyes — never could he envision himself walking into those places alone of his own volition.
Maybe to get out of the heat or—-
But no. He wasn’t a true connoisseur of fine things and the pretty places that housed them. He could pick them up and enjoy that they existed, saying he liked them the same one might complement a flavor of ice cream. Hell, he’d even baked some of them into his routine, sure. But it was only for the love of others that he ever learned the name of a particular wine vintage, or a free trade coffee brand, or that there were actually *four* Musketeers instead of three and the books were apparently written by a black man.
The weight of Aelius' hand in his own, a warm lace of delicate fingers that belonged on a piano — that slotted so cleanly between his own — and he wasn’t ever sure if he deserved the finer things in his life. But ******** if he didn’t covet them — his people — and he knew he would walk through strange golden houses and flaming halls after them. Would sit through history readings and plays he only grasped in snatches of enlightenment.
All for them.
And if he got something out of it? If he learned something. Took a small sliver of knowledge and newness away, adding it to his charm bracelet of things his partners loved so he could love them too, and in his own simple way share them back? Then he thought he was better off for it. That they all were. That interest didn’t enter the picture, the way he could succor off of the others and how that would always be enough for him.
Squeezing Aelius’s hand, Waru pulled more of the man's leaning weight into himself as they slid out of the way of passersby and the fluxing crowd. “I’m interested in seeing you perform, Aelius.” Whisper warm while into his boys pretty eyes, his smile soft. “Won’t be good for commentary, but for watching? N’you should know how much I like to watch—“ he curled his fingers and leaned even closer —
If not for the sound—
A brief note on the wind had Waru tensing up briefly, his full focus dragged like a flinch in the direction it’d come from. The look he gave Aelius full of: ‘The ******** was that?!’
Wondering if the other boy had heard it too —
A myriad of museum trips and the city's yearly art shows — impromptu and planned alike. He went with others and enjoyed going. But only ever for them a list of names and faces and the awe present in their eyes — never could he envision himself walking into those places alone of his own volition.
Maybe to get out of the heat or—-
But no. He wasn’t a true connoisseur of fine things and the pretty places that housed them. He could pick them up and enjoy that they existed, saying he liked them the same one might complement a flavor of ice cream. Hell, he’d even baked some of them into his routine, sure. But it was only for the love of others that he ever learned the name of a particular wine vintage, or a free trade coffee brand, or that there were actually *four* Musketeers instead of three and the books were apparently written by a black man.
The weight of Aelius' hand in his own, a warm lace of delicate fingers that belonged on a piano — that slotted so cleanly between his own — and he wasn’t ever sure if he deserved the finer things in his life. But ******** if he didn’t covet them — his people — and he knew he would walk through strange golden houses and flaming halls after them. Would sit through history readings and plays he only grasped in snatches of enlightenment.
All for them.
And if he got something out of it? If he learned something. Took a small sliver of knowledge and newness away, adding it to his charm bracelet of things his partners loved so he could love them too, and in his own simple way share them back? Then he thought he was better off for it. That they all were. That interest didn’t enter the picture, the way he could succor off of the others and how that would always be enough for him.
Squeezing Aelius’s hand, Waru pulled more of the man's leaning weight into himself as they slid out of the way of passersby and the fluxing crowd. “I’m interested in seeing you perform, Aelius.” Whisper warm while into his boys pretty eyes, his smile soft. “Won’t be good for commentary, but for watching? N’you should know how much I like to watch—“ he curled his fingers and leaned even closer —
If not for the sound—
A brief note on the wind had Waru tensing up briefly, his full focus dragged like a flinch in the direction it’d come from. The look he gave Aelius full of: ‘The ******** was that?!’
Wondering if the other boy had heard it too —
kolina
Aelius’s smile was wide at Waru’s teasing retort. They both knew that, while Waru’s train of mind was solidly towards the more racy, his expanse of interest went much further. It was honestly baffling how much Waru paid attention to the little things and found ways to bring them or incorporate them into conversation, ‘gift’ giving, or yes, even in the bedroom. Aelius found himself continuously surprised by it, and enjoyed every time Waru took him by surprise.
They were both still learning about each other. Aelius felt like he had fallen behind when it came to his knowledge of Waru. Perhaps it was his lack of interest at first and the incredible effort he had put in to keep him separated from Waru in every way beyond bare-minimum friendship until the past few months. Hell, even when his feelings began to alter towards the man, Aelius still didn’t let himself delve too deep for fear of fully becoming attached, but well…
That worked out, not at all.
Now he was asking questions as often as he could. To learn more about the man that had been living with him for over a year.
While he’d been highly focused on the man that he let himself lean into just a bit longer than necessary, Aelius almost missed the sound that had caused Waru to stop mid sentence. He himself paused, brows furrowed as he attempted to separate the sounds of the city around them to any that might not quite belong.
He confirmed Waru’s suspicion with a subtle nod of his head. “Where?” The question was simple enough to not draw attention to themselves, but hopefully more than enough for Waru to take the hint that they should check it out. If it was one of their own, they should step in.
With some regret, Aelius untwined his fingers from Waru’s, noting that that hand was warmer than the one he had tucked into his jogger’s pocket. The cool of the night was quick to draw away that heat as Aelius picked up speed just a bit down the sidewalk in the general direction he thought the sound had come from. It was hard though in a city where sound could be distorted so easily.
They were both still learning about each other. Aelius felt like he had fallen behind when it came to his knowledge of Waru. Perhaps it was his lack of interest at first and the incredible effort he had put in to keep him separated from Waru in every way beyond bare-minimum friendship until the past few months. Hell, even when his feelings began to alter towards the man, Aelius still didn’t let himself delve too deep for fear of fully becoming attached, but well…
That worked out, not at all.
Now he was asking questions as often as he could. To learn more about the man that had been living with him for over a year.
While he’d been highly focused on the man that he let himself lean into just a bit longer than necessary, Aelius almost missed the sound that had caused Waru to stop mid sentence. He himself paused, brows furrowed as he attempted to separate the sounds of the city around them to any that might not quite belong.
He confirmed Waru’s suspicion with a subtle nod of his head. “Where?” The question was simple enough to not draw attention to themselves, but hopefully more than enough for Waru to take the hint that they should check it out. If it was one of their own, they should step in.
With some regret, Aelius untwined his fingers from Waru’s, noting that that hand was warmer than the one he had tucked into his jogger’s pocket. The cool of the night was quick to draw away that heat as Aelius picked up speed just a bit down the sidewalk in the general direction he thought the sound had come from. It was hard though in a city where sound could be distorted so easily.
strickenized
As Aelius drew closer, winding through alleyways that led to an abandoned stretch of road and a fencing wall that housed the ghost of old industry, another yelp sounded. This one was closer, detached from the civility of words. It was guttural, as if beaten out of someone. Then came the scuffle and thump of someone falling, but they weren't yet beaten.
If the pair so dutifully turned the corner on the scene, they would sight an overgrown scorpion on the wall initially. While it was a similar tan to the wall on which it perched, its cluster of red eyes and its toxic yellow stinger caught the eye easily. However, it clutched at a lopsided angle, for it was missing one of its pincers and its first two legs on the right side. Black dust had stained the wall beneath it.
Farther on, the dirt-stricken road led to a few fresh bloodstains that caught moonlight in their pools. As they broadened, they caught an orange flicker. Ahead was a slight hooded figure, half-illuminated by the fire that burned bright within.
That figure encroached on another, this one clearly spent and jostled by a few blows to the head. She wore long, scalloped skirts in bright pinks and blues, mottled with blood, over a pair of simple white tights and heeled shoes that could have come from a Disney film. Her hair, which cascaded to her back in voluptuous curls, was tangled up and chunks had been burnt off near the scalp. As she struggled to stand, her body jerked and spasmed as her traumatized cerebellum tried to keep her upright.
She eked out a stammered, unintelligible sentence and clutched her necklace tight. A green light engulfed her. Some of her superficial wounds had begun to retreat.
But this only incensed her adversary. Wordless, his fingers clutched into a fist. Veins traced down his exposed black arm, glowing molten bright like lava, while his fist steamed in the brisk November weather. He struck her in the throat with such momentous force that she was flung backward like a doll, crashing to the ground in a pile of limbs and confusion, while a small fireball cleared from the air.
While she was stunned, he approached. He struck her again at the temple. Then he struck her nose, then her jaw, then her temple again. Her struggles grew more like spasms. This incensed him further, and he began stomping her with shoes that looked more like a device than military-issue boots. And while he kept on, long past the point where she stopped moving, long past the point when she had uncharred skin and a recognizable shape, her starseed emerged from her body.
It trembled in the air as it rose. The fiery figure snatched it away.
If the pair so dutifully turned the corner on the scene, they would sight an overgrown scorpion on the wall initially. While it was a similar tan to the wall on which it perched, its cluster of red eyes and its toxic yellow stinger caught the eye easily. However, it clutched at a lopsided angle, for it was missing one of its pincers and its first two legs on the right side. Black dust had stained the wall beneath it.
Farther on, the dirt-stricken road led to a few fresh bloodstains that caught moonlight in their pools. As they broadened, they caught an orange flicker. Ahead was a slight hooded figure, half-illuminated by the fire that burned bright within.
That figure encroached on another, this one clearly spent and jostled by a few blows to the head. She wore long, scalloped skirts in bright pinks and blues, mottled with blood, over a pair of simple white tights and heeled shoes that could have come from a Disney film. Her hair, which cascaded to her back in voluptuous curls, was tangled up and chunks had been burnt off near the scalp. As she struggled to stand, her body jerked and spasmed as her traumatized cerebellum tried to keep her upright.
She eked out a stammered, unintelligible sentence and clutched her necklace tight. A green light engulfed her. Some of her superficial wounds had begun to retreat.
But this only incensed her adversary. Wordless, his fingers clutched into a fist. Veins traced down his exposed black arm, glowing molten bright like lava, while his fist steamed in the brisk November weather. He struck her in the throat with such momentous force that she was flung backward like a doll, crashing to the ground in a pile of limbs and confusion, while a small fireball cleared from the air.
While she was stunned, he approached. He struck her again at the temple. Then he struck her nose, then her jaw, then her temple again. Her struggles grew more like spasms. This incensed him further, and he began stomping her with shoes that looked more like a device than military-issue boots. And while he kept on, long past the point where she stopped moving, long past the point when she had uncharred skin and a recognizable shape, her starseed emerged from her body.
It trembled in the air as it rose. The fiery figure snatched it away.
