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 Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:32 pm
Where necessary, he didn’t shy from firm tugging or scraping, but in the intermediary of taking off tar spatters Quenton made sure to just run gentler strokes of the backs of his fingers along cheeks, neck, back, shoulders, chest and arms. It reinforced that touch could be pleasant on a subconscious level. It was kiss-like caresses. “Do you know how unsettled most people are by just the prospect of talking to me? And you fool yourself if you try to claim there is a suffusion of nearly so clever assholes in this city or any other. Or incredibly clever assholes who would likewise not be unsettled, or even interested, in all the things I pursue. “
“You’re the only one that’s understood the principles of my goals, even the ones you don’t share. You didn’t come to me as a student or as a superior, but as an equal. You are unique, Alois Scholz. I could find someone different in suit to me, maybe, but not better. “
“Unless this is a roundabout of you trying to convince ménage à trois. “ The task of tar complete, Quenton laced his hands up Alois’ cheeks, back into his hair along the temporalis muscles. “I woke at 6. Took my medications amid a one-cat chorus of merps and mowls, almost tripped from furry figure eights and fed him a ten-chick pate. After that I ate an apple on the way to Senior Seminar, worked through lunch on a polyphony composition. Dr, Schach found me at my desk for History of Photography 1839-to-the-present which was a 3 hour slog through pictorialism slides. Today was the lecture session, so at least Schach was doing the talking and I just had to push forward on the slides. The man’s in his 80s- he still uses an honest to god slide projector instead of powerpoint, Prezi or some other digital like. At least he knows what he’s talking about, but I don’t know how much any of the class is absorbing in his monotone. I almost fell asleep, which at least he chalked up to the painkillers. “
“He’s been incredibly accommodating about medical complication. Since he’s one of the Dean’s and tenured, he’s pretty much bombproof as far his scheduling or turn ins on things. “ He kept up the conversation as he drug over one tub and then the other. Paced and brought stacks of variably sized towels. Pulled soap and shampoo out of the backpack.
“After that it was office hours, acception project turn ins for his Two-Dimensional Design and Multimedia course while working on my own sketch designs. I’ll either have to have an assistant do casting and pouring, or I’m going to have to rethink media. I can’t do the mixing and lifting as well as I need to right now. Maybe one of the underclassmen.“ I ...could...ask Alex, if he wasn’t busy with a dozen other things and his business. He is technically an Arts underclassman. I don’t expect kickbacks from Dr. Schach have much worth to someone who is already so monied. Maybe some other. I don’t know. It’ll have to work out, but not tonight.
He put one towel just into the tub to make a cushier surface, “You could kneel on this, your wings out of the tub so they don’t get wet. It’ll let the water be up to your waist, so you’ll stay relatively warm. Then we washcloth clean the rest of you like its the Victorian. “
“How has your harmonica been coming along?”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:33 pm
Quenton exhibited a type of thoughtfulness that Alois picked up on almost immediately, gaze drifting toward flame when gentle strokes with the backs of knuckles followed any moderate to harsh tugs. The whole of the operation proved discomforting, though not altogether painful - the tar never bore its full effect when stemming from his own skin. Still, far too much garbage and detritus adhered to the leftovers when a splotch of tar remained over a knuckle, or a portion of his face.
It felt uncommonly nice, for once, to feel fully clean.
“You’re an aberration, Quenton. Wholly unsettling. Completely weird. Zat’s why I like you - you’re interesting. You don’t adhere to ze same tired old philosophies sported by ze many. You don’t operate on emotion alone, or some drif’e you never bozzered to wholly understand. So if noone else on zis Ears’ would expend breas’ in debate wis’ you, zen all ze more for me.” He flashed a cheshire grin. “Zough, I suppose I could share if somesing of a sreesome happened to… coalesce.”
A modicum of relief swept through him to alleviate tension he never consciously recognized when Quenton detailed his day - none of it containing brushes with the Negaverse or their constituent youma. Natron never doubled back to attack him twice, though the effects would’ve been obvious across Quenton’s body. Instead, his day sounded somewhat mundane compared to Alois’ suspicions, amounting to nothing more than inconvenience from injury. While he listened, Alois fiddled with the general’s coat he wore in tatters, trying to find some manner of unclasping it from his body. Nodding along, he continued to feel around toward the back for any sign of a clip or a belt until he finally gave up on the endeavor entirely, electing to simply brute force tear it near one of the wings.
WIth the fabric torn, it lay in a pool about his waist until he finally budged from his perch, shifting to the floor where the remainder of his uniform crumpled without a hitch. Despite their time spent together, standing without a shred of clothing on in front of Quenton exacerbated his insecurities; Alois drew wings about himself in a soft echo of gasps to shield view of the portions of himself that knew the most shame. Afterward he climbed into the tub, hands steadied on the sides, while he managed a position not entirely awkward. The wings then unfurled to accommodate themselves over the brim. Slowly he adjusted to the heated water, though thankful that it warmed his bones so easily. Any amount of clothing shed seemingly dropped his body temperature by a considerable amount.
“Depending on when it must be done, I could help you. Ozzerwise I expect you should delegate ze task to one who might detest it most if you want to glean a little fun out of your predicament.” Likely Quenton wouldn’t risk the success of a project to whim like that, but it was fun to tease. “I still don’t understand why your life revolves around art. Only ze process is fun, and if ze process sucks, why bozzer wis’ it?”
He let the question hang in the air for answer before he addressed the question of harmonica. “It’s… Slow. Difficult to find any kind of sheet music for it. In fact, I haven’t even found any considering zat my searches are far too limited. I was never very good at playing by ear alone wis’ ze piano, but I am managing well enough wis’ harmonica. I haf’ some basics down, like popular Russian folk songs or a few, ah… Blues tunes. It serves a poor substitute for piano.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:34 pm
“Justifying the purpose of art to you is probably a lifelong endeavor. Let alone my personal fascination. I’m probably the less qualified, compared to some others. I do create art, am an artist, but it is as much a venue towards learning about many subjects as the discipline itself of sculpture...or design. Art, whatever the media, if visual boils down to the aesthetics of design. The rest is media practice and techniques. “ Quenton settled next to the tub in a kneel on another towel. The wings over the back of the tub, instead of wrapping in modesty, was the pleasant and serendipitous necessity of the bath. He dipped hand with washcloth through the water, brushing Alois’ thigh on purpose, withdrew it, rubbed soap into the fibers and set to carefully scrubbing back and neck between the wings. If I am strange, I am well fit to to my environment. How many people in their lives before or to come will be able to say they have knelt in studio after dark to bath a youmafied general of the Negaverse. Or at one remove even- have honestly seen a boy with wings. You do not make much of an angel, lover. Who does.
“Did you have any exposure to Suzuki tonalization techniques when you were learning piano? At the base its a lot of training the ear to understand what good music is, but once that is done the technique feeds into an auditory version of ‘sight reading’. It required daily dedication and access to recordings and performances, so its probably not ideal. I have access to the university music library of recordings though. Philips made a Sounddot mp3 player for under 20$ that could serve the purpose of even just getting you music to listen to, study or not. Do you want me to pick one up for you? I could even get you into the archive to pick out what you want to load onto it. “ The cheaper, non-ipod sort wouldn’t be a tragedy if it got tarred or knocked about. They tended to be at least as hardy under heavy use, lasting the two or three years if not subject to Armageddon. The presence of music was much like the presence of art- it cued thought and fostered emotion. It was a thing that made life worth living, rather than just an exercise in existence. And it is an excuse to do more normal things with you. Taking you into the University library through one of the side entrances and to the music floor to pick out things is so ...something we might have done before. Like the seminars.
Another dip of the rag, drawing hot water up to scrub a different section of blue-veined, thin skin. “You know, instead of sketching you, I could make sculptures. “
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:35 pm
“You are wrong on one account - it is not a lifelong endeavor. Or, at least, it doesn’t haf’ to be. Who knows - maybe if I’m missing a few dozen memories, it’ll finally make sense.” He didn’t expect Quenton to infer the reference to purification, nor did he really place much stock in the attempts anymore, but even feigning hope offset the stark reality of their situation. “You are good at it, even if you pick terrible models. Alois is an a*****e, and he’s too skinny. Where is ze aes’setic zere, Quincy?”
He kept his form bent low to facilitate easier washing between splayed wings. The whispers drew closer to real atriculations, though still hovered on the edge of imperceptible. He didn’t mind; he never welcomed their interference lest he engineered a display. The wash cloth against his back felt warm, yet rough - a certain toughness that spoke of tenderness all the same. And when Quenton’s ministrations traced over the particularly sore muscles surrounding the bases of his wings, the sensation managed the fine line between pain and pleasure with a quiet grace. Sometimes he fanned a wing out further to allow for more room, though the joints grew tired of having to support so much weight for so long. Slowly the sagged, like wilting flowers.
“I’f never dealt wis’ ze Suzuki messod, but I haf’ heard of it. It’s not simply localized to piano anymore, so far as I know. However, my training was… more traditional, I suppose. I’f tried, once or twice, to play a song in zat fashion, but it does not compare to my sight reading.” Not that I gave it much of a chance to. “But… If you’re so willing to spend ze money on it, I can gif’ it a try. If nossing else, I’ll at least have a whole new selection of shitty music to pick srough before I find somesing wors’ practicing.” He shivered, and tightened his grip on the tub. Slowly he recognized the tension building between his shoulderblades.
Alois hesitated when conversation turned toward himself again - in rendering some form of him through medium, for whatever enjoyment Quenton gleaned from the acts. His gaze drew toward the murky tub water momentarily, studying the lazy ripples before whim tickled their temperamental side. Pursing his lips slightly, he sighed when he met Quenton’s gaze once more. “Why is it so important to draw me, Quenton? Or sculpt me? I don’t want to be remembered like zis. I don’t want to be remembered as some bastardized version of Christian mys’. I know what I am - I don’t need visual reminders.” Though I am fool to think that a wholly human skin might conceal it from anyone else. Even you, Quenton. You know what you’re looking at, what you’re sketching at any unholy hour that begs you to rise.
Are we all just so fascinated with the depths of our own descent?
Can’t I just crawl into bed with you again? Can’t I just sleep like we did the first night?
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:36 pm
If I’m ‘so willing’, like it is a trial and terrible thing to spend money on your quality of life. How dare I. He leaned in to the tub to draw lips softly across Alois’, a ghost of sensation to create want in either of them as much as the other. As he backed to a more sustainable position again, Quenton knee-scootched his towel around to reach chest, stomach and lap easier. “The reasons for committing your image to some archive of paper or clay, whether faithful or distorted from realism, are fluid. I don’t think I could give you one only, and even any set of them would be different depending on the day and hour. The media. The choice of representation. “
“Most of all I find you fascinating. Pleasing and unpleasing in equally countless ways. You are a Muse. You are so certain of what you think you are, Alois, but that is falling back on old habits. We’ve already proven together than you learn. You change. Abstractly, you are living ideas, and ideas are what I pursue. Each representation is a pursuit- trying to learn you, capture you, free you, love you, ….I suppose it would relate to your questions about why make art at all. It is admittedly a strange compulsion, but not uncommon among those in the arts. Usually it seems connected to some sexuality in the subject matter, and by step and relations that was classically to an instinct to breed. I don’t think that would be the case here. “
“But I’m not sure what it is, then. Its certainly worth examining, as a drive not addressed by the conditioning. I wonder if I Can not make art or music. In lesser extension, if I can not of you, with your distaste for it. “
Likewise, you need not ever see them, if it is so distressing. That assumes they are made for you. Or that the purpose is to confront you with what they are. Or that what I perceive and commit should influence what you perceive. The tricky implications of perception and memory and the purposes and meta-effects on records. Quenton paused, the wheels plainly turning though he’d stopped speaking aloud. Then offered finally, “It’s getting a little abstract. I should look into what exists on memory and perception. I think I’ve over complicated the answer. “
Setting the washcloth aside, he put another towel into the bottom of the other tub, “Switch to this one for rinsing. I’ll grab a pitcher.”
At least in an arts studio where there were pottery and ceramics students, amphora, vases, bowls, cups and sundry were in ready and plentiful supply.
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:36 pm
Considering how much we ********, I wouldn’t say the instinct to breed is too terribly far off. The kiss drew a breathless word from his lips, all thought frozen in place for a moment before the thaw set in. He never minded moments like these. Only afterward did he realize that his shoulders and biceps clammed over with goosebumps from being subject to the unyielding temperature difference between body and environment. “Zen I won’t expect a generalized answer. How about zis - why would you want to create sculpture of me right now? Why were you sinking about it just now? Surely zat answer is not so fluid zat it varies by ze millisecond of sought.” He smirked slightly, the teasing faint in his features.
“I’f not had anyone look at me in such a way before. My old girlfriend, back in Dresden… Sought quite ze opposite. It, ah… Stuck, after a while. A Muse… Quenton, are you certain you’re from zis time period? Anyone who knew you half as well as I would swear you came straight out of ze Renaissance period. Look into memory and perception, zen. I sink it fits as an interesting insight into ze Self - into Quenton Marinus, razzer zan all of his overarching ideals. But first…” Alois stood abruptly afterward, and used the momentum to splash some water onto the blonde and, most notably, his glasses. After stepping out he crossed to the second tub, tugging gently on the back of Quenton’s collar as he went, a gesture half in invitation and half in command. “We could bos’ stand to haf’ a little fun.”
Even if our ideas of it differ. We can find common ground. We have before. The project was something of the sort, wasn’t it? I assisted in your goals while you assisted in mine. And in the process, we enriched each other’s lives. It’s no tasteless love story, we never magically corrected each other’s destiny to some perfect and unrelatable form, but… I think we affected each other enough. There’s more to come.
Perhaps that is the best part - there is no foreseeable end to this trail.
He sank into the other tub afterward, already chilly from the incredibly short distance. Afterward he settled in as best he could to raise the water level to just beneath the first joints of his wings. “Does Faust still steal your pillow ze moment you get up? I remember trying to turn over once or twice, and zat damned oversized carcass almost bit my hand in half…”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:40 pm
“Right at that moment I was being an a** and hoping to get a rise out of you. Which succeeded. “ There was a jest in the tone at his own personal expense. Not all serious and sobre, or sagacious. But even our play leads to thought. How dull the weeks seem by comparison of even less a hand’s hours. I don’t feel tired. How often does that happen anymore. "There have been other moments with more clarity of artistic purpose in want to see your anatomy made as my own Galateus. Or as a daemon, or keres,flightless from pandoras box with wings and tar-marred claws weighted in Hesiod's Theogeny."
He didn't startle with the splash, but closed his eyes momentarily to austerely remove his glasses and set them aside with a familiar click on the floor. Already a rebuttal was formed and ready for jested doubt of his chronon placement. Quenton waited for Alois to get settled then stepped into the casting tub as well before shifting to a kneel, then forward to tangle more directly and bodily. Clothes and the overspill of the rinse water was ignored in favor of a kiss, “You must be a catalyst because you drive my reactions. “
And further purposely terrible pick up lines placed each with a kiss to chin, “What do you say we use your lever to shift my center of mass? “
And then each collar bone, “Its not the size of the vector that matters, but the way the force is delivered.”
Ridiculous, modern, sincere and layered thick- laugh, lover. Or be annoyed. Either is alive. I can say stupid things to you to court your humor, your ire, your frustrations. To tickled what is left of the sublime. Quenton cupped water in hands to pull up in rinsing then, “Faust does. I had to pick up some extra pillowcases, so that I can switch them with more frequency. And a furminator. That’s helped a lot for his shedding. “
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:41 pm
“You are such an artist,” he responded, tone bemoaning yet absent bite. “I haf’ no idea who any of zose people are. Do zey draw, or sculpt, or ah… Make Art for anatomical study? For seeing how proportions reflect in zeir own hand? Or is it just to see how You can render Me?” There is not necessarily philosophy in art, is there? Art can be entirely feeling - almost akin to hedonism, but… Even that entails a strain of thought behind it. I don’t know. I’ll never understand it. If not in this life, then maybe in the next.
Quenton’s presence in the tub came as a welcome addition, and in turn he reclined enough to facilitate the entanglement while allowing enough room for the protruding bones of his wings to rest atop the rim. He rested both arms over his lover’s shoulders, pressing hands to his back to urge the man forward for a less balance-demanding position between the both of them. A kiss returned, though he side-eyed his lover for an ostensible compliment that only befitted the science majors at the university. Afterward Alois started on parsing the soaked shirt from Quenton’s skin, but paused in heed of further horrific lines, choosing to instead abandon all train of thought to stare dumbfounded at the sculptor.
I can’t believe he actually said that. Any of that. Actually, I won’t. No. He said nothing. “If you really wanted me to bend you over, you should’f just asked, razzer zan turn me off of ze whole affair wis’...” He groaned. “Zat.”
Afterward he picked up with stripping away Quenton’s clothes to avoid incurred sickness from such exposure. He discarded the clothes near the side of the tub with a wet slop on the floor, further pooling out the soapy water. It proved its own challenge in regards to sharp talons where blunted fingernails once knew their place. Idly he wondered how quickly Quenton might bleed out if he simply resumed with their normal play. Pausing in the pursuit of availing Quenton of his clothes, Alois pressed a nailed finger to Quenton’s shoulder to test how quickly it bit through skin. A thin red line soon traced his movements, blooming outward into a minor trail with the addition of wet skin. Pressing lips to the new laceration, Alois drew some of the blood away before pressing thumb to the remainder to facilitate a margin of pressure.
“You know, Quenton, I’m still pissed zat you cut your hair. Next I know, you’ll dye it black and zen you’ll haf’ to shaf’e Faust to weaf’e his fur into extensions.” He sighed before slumping into a loose hug, half-draped on Quenton.
“You’f spent all zis time taking care of me,” he muttered voice low in proximity to his ear. “You should let me return ze favor sometime.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:42 pm
The groan was a delight, bringing a crinkle beneath the lower lids of flame eyes that spoke of smiles that never made it further. “Bad Pickup lines are a notably modern phenomenon. It appears you prefer me antiquated and flowery or antiquated and straightforward. “
Quenton shifted to help with the cloth removal where needed- arm brought in then out, then the next, or moving to allow access to fastenings. He settled as the nail pressed, and dipped face again to press lips to collar as it trailed, bit as it drew blood. Red indentures left easily as paint on the prominent bone. “It grows back. I’ve dyed it before, but never black. Faust with a lion-trim would be pretty adorable, even if I didn’t have skin on my arms anymore for perpetrating it. “ The joke of it was more poignant since he knew exactly what flayed arms felt like. Wherever Adonis was in the dark, maybe his ears felt warm. And it was truth enough- with so much fluff, Faust WOULD look adorable. Definitely not dignified. “Your claws are sharp for lacking steel.”
“I’m not done yet. There’s still your hair, and muscles once you’re dry. Food. You can sleep. Morning brings many staves- if your offer stands so long. Then once you’ve rested turnabout can be fair play.” Quenton stayed put for a long moment, bought hands around and shifted legs to curl and support the other, and then to press fingers or thumbs in firm, slow alternation from origins to insertions along the muscles and bones while the heat of the water was there to help the process. The closet for the figure drawing space heaters should be unlocked. Those should help.
Only once the temperature of the water started to shift to just warm did he untangle, standing free to make a nest and plug in the heaters. Then brought over more towels to swath Alois’ in, “Alright. You shouldn’t lose too much heat between here and the bed.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:42 pm
“I prefer you not emulating ze portions of human interaction zat I despise.” Unfortunately that severely limits your behavioral scope. I’ll live with a few pokes and prods if you will. I suspect some measure of irritation keeps us both sane - or human. Or rational. I might’ve been wrong before, but suffering still holds some merits. If nothing else, we endure it without complaint. “To be honest, zough, flowery and antiquated pickup lines can sound just as terrible.” He considered some mentions of drawing rapier and sworldplay afterward, but decided against it.
“” He ran the pad of thumb against one taloned nail, testing for flexibility, before pressing the claw to Quenton’s skin once more in much lighter ministrations. He watched the pink of recognition to touch bloom beneath his tracing patterns. “” And I suspect that was intentional. “But now is not ze time to consider such sings.” Palms pressed flat against Quenton’s back in a light squeeze of hug, drawing in another dose of sandalwood oil.
Closing his eyes, Alois savored the warmth and feel of skin beneath his cheek for the moments of silence that followed. It felt unusually good to simply be - and infinitely more rare it felt to be at ease in another’s presence, especially with the advent of his traitorous intentions. He managed nothing more than a soft grunt of approval when Quenton sought to ease muscle and bone with liberal pressure.
Whether born of fun or simply control, Alois hostaged Quenton a measure of time afterward when he first felt the man’s inclination to get up. It lasted no longer than a few seconds. “” Sacher-Masoch.
Alois was initially reluctant to leave the water, but the advent of space heaters promised enough guarantee of warmth to leave the plaster tub. He stood and ruffled feathers almost immediately, force of sheer habit before he was received by towels. A few whispers escaped the wings, but nothing audible enough to discern words.
The creature considered a few choice responses while he eyed Quenton standing there, sopping wet and naked. “” In traditional asking-not-asking style, he caught hold of Quenton’s hand to cart him off toward a dry segment of the floor near one of the heaters. “”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:43 pm
The reminder of the voices and the wings brought uncomfortable, stroud-taste imagery fitted to biohorror eroticism to mind that wasn’t readily dismissible. Something to work out of his system in Moleskine later while Alois’ slept. Something to literally never let see the light of day. “ ”
Quenton followed the draw on his hand, snagging the strap of bag in passing to bring the hair oil and brush along. “ “
It was a point of interest unclarified yet in their relationship- he knew Alois hated his own body, but whether the disgust for the human form extended to all of them in visual was not one he’d ever approached. Or whether there was any specific preferences after all of one phenotype to another. Or gender. It was a talking point, mostly, rather than a necessity. The details had never interrupted exploration and expansion. “I miss your hand on the whip as much, and these hours are a kindness. ”
The sculptor settled, bringing a towel up to cover thighs then drawing the implements wanted from the bag. He looked over at lover expectantly while offering lap to be lounged on like to a cat or to a water serpents. The oil brought was his own, infused with Sandalwood and would offer memory of it in Alois’ own hair for nights to come, even if their company could not be shared. “Good enough to tempt?”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:44 pm
“Your German feels so mechanical.” He blanched in a dramatic show of distaste, lips peeled back and tongue rolled out in a gag. Jabs at language nevertheless reinforced that he managed the boon of indulging in his native tongue in an otherwise foreign country. Too long had it been since he used germanic tones among those with the mind to process it. Youma never offered much in conversation.
“” Or it was enough of a distraction to break troublesome thoughts. It’s difficult to think about how we might part ways soon when I’m staring at your a**.
“” Alois took a seat where offered, though the question of what to do with his wings demanded more careful consideration for an otherwise simple task. To draw them out of Quenton’s way demanded somewhat relaxing them, and at that point the feathers sat awkwardly bent on the floor. After a considerable amount of fidgeting and repositioning, he managed a happy medium between not drowning his lover in down feathers and maintaining a level of comfort in not contorting his added limbs. “” The beginnings of a stifled laugh betrayed his intentions for a rise, if the lean back to meet spine to sternum didn’t.
“ As devil’s advocate he considered how Quenton might’ve preferred to proceed with it, and how that influenced Alois’ own reactions. ”
He reclined his head toward the sculptor, letting the back of his skull rest against Quenton’s shoulder. “lonely, Quenton? Do you miss having someone to talk to, or do your classes and busyness take care of that?>”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:44 pm
“” Some might consider that a step back in communications, if the peak of the exercise it to relate experiences back and forth. Complaints are sure pointing to pleasure. You’ve missed my shitty German and the bruise both. Once Alois was settled, Quenton bit the place most often bruised in reward to leave new mark. The commentary about the merits of learning earned a swift, satisfying smack of hand to the edge-perched flank of Alois’ small a**, drawing red flower there while the laugh colored the air. It was as much a win for them both. Alois had his reaction, Quenton had his own point of interest to consider with some vacancy in looking down appreciatively.
“You …could. Your magic must take a measure of focus, does it not? “ A guess, really. It must also take some measure of the overall energy of the agents who could do so, the same as limited every senshi from just chaining spell to spell ad infinitum. “So I just keep you distracted.”
Quenton took up the oil and poured measure out onto his own hands out of sight near Alois’ lap, then brought them up to the black hair to work in measure from root to tip- massaging his scalp as he went. “I miss you.”
“The bed is empty to look at in the north light of morning. There’s no music to fill and interest second thoughts while I try to work out designs, or interrupting compositions of my own. Weight absent next to mine on the porch at evening, looking at the city lights as they decide to come to life. One perspective again the limit of my questions aloud to walls that don’t answer. “
“I have been alone long before. But that was different. It wasn’t lonely.”
“The change was you.”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:45 pm
Alois drew new breath when teeth met his skin, rousing goosebumps in a flush. It felt uncommonly familiar and missed both, to know touch of another not raised in violence. For a while, not long after he reached out to Quenton again, company once so familiar and rejoiced again felt foreign, suspicious, troublesome. It felt too different from what he knew as an agent or creature. That same draw hitched with a breath of voice at further playfulness that roused his attentions from such thoughts. A lopsided smirk splayed across his features when he glanced back at Quenton.
The sculptor started with his hair not long afterward. Light pulls echoed their times at eve, without edging too far into suggestiveness. Luckily this meant he could maintain more intellectual trains of thought. “” he conceded, both delighted and entertained that Quenton grasped the concepts behind powered magics relatively easily. He also liked to assume suggestive undertones in the sculptor’s rebuttal. “”
A hand fell to trace along Quenton’s thigh, ghosting loose patterns over knee before pacing back upward and down again. None left marks of white for longer than a few seconds. “” For a while afterward, he fell silent, listening to the tug of hair between calloused hands. He especially liked the feel of the soft touch against scalp before he smoothed the oils toward the ends of Alois’ hair.
“ does seem awfully dull without me.>” A pinch of muscle near the top of Quenton’s thigh finished the statement.
“”
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Posted: Tue Oct 14, 2014 7:45 pm
“Consider careful what amputations and modifications you see fit to make- you’d regret not making it to a meditative state of emptiness ever again. “ He pulled and then released handfuls of black feather-hair along the temporalis as was nearly tradition, as much a command of endorphins as other techniques.
“Joining stagnation sounds like trying to reason two wrongs into a right. It may work with Negative numbers in multiplication, not so much in practical emotional reasoning. As much say that revenge does make you feel better in the end- it never does. Just empty. Knee-jerk emotional projections of outcomes are very gratefully left behind.“ Quenton pressed his face to the side of Alois’ neck, blowing out through his nose happily. He spoke from there, mouth pressed near the skin. “ You make it tempting to allow for other ways. You always have.”
It didn’t take much more to finish the rest- so much of Alois’ hair was broken and frayed, and the strands soaked the oil in readily. Adding more without allowing time would do as much damage in promoting greasiness and clogging the pores of his scalp. A quick move of hands to wings confirmed that the heaters had helped to dry any other errant moisture. “There’s clothes for you. The pants should fit as is. You can eat while I fix the shirt. “
Rather than letting him climb down, Quenton lifted the other's small weight by his hips in mirror of other memories and set him aside on some of the towels. He didn’t bother to keep the towel from his lap or wrap it, but went to retrieve the promised articles, scissors and small sewing bag as he was. Returning, he offered out the fleecy pajama bottoms. “Warm enough?”
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