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 Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 6:40 pm
The air of opulence in theatres and halls of high culture was always present, expected, and the DCU building did not disappoint. Rich read and gold carpet with gilded-seeming pattern managed to disguise itself from being a heavy-traffic, function-serving carpet. The walls, columns, stairs and rails were fine granite face, or marble, with some elaborate cast brass fittings. Even with no performance scheduled soon, and the chandeliers above set to only half on, the place glowed. Some of the usher crew were talking with Gail Cox, arranging signage and changing out posters from the wall nearest the box office to advertise this or that part of the season. Björn milled a few moments, walking around the building he'd not seen in at least four months. Longer? Five? Five and a half? It felt foreign, forbidden, dangerous and swallowing all at once. Why should it not be? Excepting to talk to Hvergelmir, or to aid Anna in the last items before she'd flown back to Europe, he had not been a regular man. He performed his scheduled hours at the Tea Shop for General Benitoite, he worked out on his in-season schedule, and he trained lieutenants at the Colosseum. Or he sparred against Youma in search for one suited to his need. He had moved into the barracks and lived in the Dark Kingdom. He was Titanlåvenite half a year over more than ever he spent as Björn. This place was a haven to it's artists, to ideals and beauty. He had lost actual right to be there when Titanlåvenite had broken Colin's heart. It was enough months of distance to absolve any connections relating the danseur to his powered life. It was what was necessary to try to insure survival. It was survival only and no more than that. He missed some glimmer of beauty to make the whole lot worthwhile over rash thoughts. It used to be glimpses of gold and flushed joints in moving arcs and swirls down the hall to some U2 remix he didn't know. Sunlight would arc down from the high windows in patched beams, and Colin would pass to and fro with the Swiffer while waiting for some vegan thing to heat in the microwave. "Thor! Thor where have you been" The familiar voice broke his thoughts apart, bringing the stairs to the Parterre into focus and the fact that he stood by them without obvious direction or purpose. His hand was on a brass globe lantern that topped the marble bannister. Gail was hurrying over, smiling. It wasn't the greeting he'd expect from a pack that should be protecting one of its own wounded. Did Colin tell them? He pulled his hand from the bannister and lifted it in greeting. He offered what he could by way of a smile. "Hallo. Is there a practice today? " "There is! But where have you been! We haven't seen any pictures lately, and we were worried that you'd been laid up after a competition or something. Swing the hammer too hard? Practice is already started, actually, so you'll have to wait if you wanted to actually talk to Prince. If you're just here to oogle, though, I can take you in. Where have you been?" The repetition spoke volumes for his chances of ducking out of the inquiry. "I did come to see Colin, but just watch. I was back in Europe- out of country. " Lying was so much easier. It became more and more so as weeks passed surrounded by nothing by the dark. It hardly mattered what was spoken to the black hours into his hands. "He doesn't know I'm back yet. Don't tell him while he's onstage, if you can keep it secret? Not everyone will, probably. I....wanted to see him. He is fair beyond my reach. " She nodded as she motioned and walked up the stairs. She paused briefly to pat his chest lightly in appreciation, plainly an unconscious reaction to the cut of vest and low buttons that revealed plenty of his chest. "The parterre isn't usually where you liked to stand, so maybe you'll be a little less obvious. But there's no hiding you, hun. Have you gotten bigger?" "I have been training much. " "Luckkkyyyy, " she sighed and blinked, and went back to leading to a space near the front wit ha good view of the stage. She smiled and patted his bicep by way of parting, disappearing back to her work. Syrie Let me know if I need to change anything~
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 7:48 pm
It really was a lovely theatre to visit for a show or perform, either way. Colin had always thought so, even before the most recent renovations to the "Main" stage and the addition of the "New" stage. But he hadn't noticed much about it's beauty since early in May and noticed much less now, with the months having taken their toll. Things just weren't so bright, he didn't take photos like he once had...certainly he did take some but it was mostly for show, to keep his fellows from inquiring too hard about why he often looked like the walking (dancing?) dead and where 'Thor' was. Sometimes, he just wanted to slap his friends or shake them while shouting that he didn't ******** know where Björn was and hadn't in months. It was during those times that he just smiled and rolled his eyes, said he wasn't sure but they could check Asgard if they really wanted, oh and be sure to send him a postcard. Even if he'd wanted to tell the company, he wouldn't have - ballet was cutthroat and even the dancers and danseurs that were friendly with him would have zeroed in like a shark to bloody chum in the water. Until he wasn't able to do his job, he'd fight for it...even if it meant pretending that Björn hadn't dumped him horribly and that his heart wasn't in teeny tiny pieces. <******** were still doing Swan Lake, running through semi-dress rehearsals to keep the dance in their minds and also to fine tune anything the director and Ballet Master found lacking (which was plenty, regardless of how well the dancers thought they'd done). By the time Björn had made his way inside to watch, Colin was the one getting a dressing down from September for not having enough emotion or grace or something while dancing with Odile. They had devolved to gutter French somewhere halfway through because there were no words for how horrible his dancing was. Colin plucked at a wedgie and just nodded over and over again, mouth in a grim line as he took the dressing down and subsequent direction. To be perfectly honest, he felt horrible, his ankle still hurt and he was exhausted. If he'd been less used to the rigors of ballet, he might have called off. His hose itched, the velvet jacket of his costume was hot and heavy and the ballerina's stiff tutu skirt kept jabbing at his upper thighs and - when he lifted her - his belly. Uncomfortable as all hell, tired in mind and body and soul, he probably could have done with some time off. But he was a professional and was used to it; he also knew that he needed to get his head in the game properly before someone shoved him out of the lead role, rather than mooning over someone that he still wanted to see and be with...even if said guy didn't goddamn deserve anything but a swift and sharp kick to the a**. Or more tender bits. "Sorry, I've got it." They reset positions and September started a CD of the music played live during the actual shows, grumbling darkly and eyeballing the curly haired dancer and his partner as though unsure they'd dance properly without concentrated and dedicated watching. Colin took a quick drink from a bottle of water and smoothed out his costume before taking his starting position. His entire attitude was changed as he slipped back into the role of Prince Siegfried falling under the black swan's spell. The ballerina was small and lithe and moved well with him - they clearly knew what they were doing and if the blond's face sometimes went paler when he did one-ankle turns, his expression didn't change. Until Thombley threw his clipboard across the stage during a lift sequence and Colin had to jump away from it with his partner in his arms to keep from stepping on it. Jessica, in her black swan costume, was the source of ire this time - was she really going to keep flopping in the Prince's arms like a limp noodle? Where was her passion!? During the tirade Colin sidled off to the side so he could rub at his ankle and shake his head at the abuse being poured their way...but it was almost always like this during the season. DCBC was becoming rather well known for having excellent programs and dancers on staff - it was why they affiliated with DCU and visa versa. Perfection wasn't 'possible' it was required. While Colin was waiting for director Seraphine to collect his clipboard and papers and for the music to be reset, one of the swans noticed a very large, very conspicuous man in the parterre and tried to figure out if it was the Prince's boyfriend or just l looked like him from a distance. She waved anyhow and contemplated skittering over to Colin to stage-whisper that he had an admirer waiting...but it was too dangerous to cross that stretch of stage. Best to find a better opportunity to tease the Royal Mophead. Ivynian Looked good to me! Lemme know if you need something added or removed, ja? :3
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 8:54 pm
He'd never enjoyed September's sort of talking to the dancers. Weeks of trying to teach and interact with teenagers to impart to them combat deepened his dislike for the insults and hyperbole that spewed here and there. The dancers seemed to respond to it, or at least it functioned to get the product that the company needed in reviews and revenue. Björn leaned against the wall, supporting one elbow in a hand while the other pulled at his beard. His eyes stayed on Colin. Colin's physique was thinner to an eye that knew it. The angles of his muscles and bones were harsher with less fat to fuel them covering between sinew and surface. His hair was too long and his features sunken. It spoke to the same chill of frost and despair that had already touched the flower of his soul at the first of it with the left letters. Months not shopping for or eating right. training too many hours, instead of sitting for some hours in the evening, massages, long baths for his muscles. No one enticing him to relax. He still mourns. It is like a black cloth drawn over him.
Is it because of the waiting for the final answer? Should I have not offered that letter? Shouldn't people stop caring? I don't know. His own stomach flipped to watch the obvious trouble at the ankle. The months had not lessened his memory in study of Colin's movements, particularly in admiring them, or worrying where they took hurt. He wanted to leap down to the level of the regular seating and sweep Colin up and out to see to the injury himself- as though he could do better than a degreed trainer that they employed just because of his more or less apprenticeship at the gym to the same purpose. Months had not changed the horror of the deed or regret in his own heart. Björn lifted his fingers from beard to cover his lips, pressing them back against his teeth in thought. He couldn't tell any difference between the first run and this one, whatever it was that the dancers or September looked for. It was all grace and flying without wings. They didn't need them. I do not know where he lives now. I do not know if it is with someone. Has he tried? How did I do this. He is alive this way. Or could be. He does not look very alive, even in dancing. They all just look tired, frustrated and empty. I probably put my own feeling on them. I feel those things. If I touched them now, would it draw energy from them? I feel strange without my armor. Too light of weight. I shouldn't touch anything here. I shouldn't even be here.
I do not belong here in gold and red.
My uniform is all black. It doesn't even have colour like other agents. I don't want to hurt Colin more. He should be here, dancing, with these beautiful men and women. Being art and becoming music. Whispers in the back of his mind toyed whether draining September would allow, no force, a day of rest for the dancers. Was that good or bad? Bad. It was always bad, what the dark spoke back of ideas.
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 9:59 pm
Few people truly enjoyed the way September operated as Ballet Master, but they respected the work and the expertise that went into it. And if there were tears or hurt feelings from the corrections given, well...that too was part of being a professional in the world of ballet. You grew thick skin and got over yourself or you just didn't last, and you certainly didn't make it to being a principle dancer at a place like the Destiny City Ballet Company before you hit your mid-twenties as Colin had. Jessica wept on the stage but accepted the verbal abuse until a comment of a more personal nature was made, then she stomped her foot and spoke some unbecoming words before stalking off the stage. She'd be back, but that would end his work with 'Odile' for the moment. September and Thombley conferred a moment and then motioned Colin forward. "Our Odile is taking a small break, so we'll work on the solo from Act III." Thombley spoke while September went to change the music to some bouncy, froofy ******** thing that Colin had loved before he'd danced to it a thousand times. 'Yes Director." Great, just what I need to be doing. ******** leaps and spins and going en pointe on my ankle. Oh well. He wouldn't fight it, the dance was mercifully a short one - typically being under three minutes, and it really was an important piece for his character and for him. A chance to shine on his own, to show how well he could dance without a ballerina's wide-a** tutu in front of him to obscure. Even so, from the moment the oomph-pah blats of the recorded horns started, Colin inwardly seethed and hated; outwardly he was a beatific and excited Prince, dancing for his court. Leaping and cavorting like a love-sick fool while the corps de ballet girls watched on, murmuring amongst themselves and even clapping some when he pulled off a gravity defying leap. <******** gravity. ******** this song, ******** this show. Ugh, can it be done yet? Maybe I should take up drinking. This show is gonna drive me there, I swear it. He was sweltering in the velvet and his hair was plastered to his head, getting in his eyes and poking him to distraction. Just another day, another dance. I'm so tired. Wonder what they'd say if I just walked out right now? Colin's interior landscape had gotten much sharper, if not darker, in the months leading to and directly after The Break-up. He was concerned he hadn't heard from Björn yet, but it wasn't the main reason for the change. The break-up was, and it wasn't unreasonable to change as he had. Not when they'd been - once - so close. When he'd thought, perhaps like Siegfried and Odette, that they'd be together through to a 'happy ending'. But life doesn't have those, does it? Just a lot of ups and downs. Kind of like the solo dance he was doing. During the final pose, his head was up and he noticed someone watching from way up, but his hair was in his eyes and while the shape was familiar he didn't think anything of it, really. People came to watch them all the time...though it didn't seem that Director Seraphine or September realized they had an audience. Not that it would have changed anything unless said 'guest' was some moneyed person or he Theatre owners. Then they'd be all sweet with their corrections, as well as more lavish in praising the dancers. Ivynian Do it, doooo eeet. You will have cheering ballerinas! Adulation, even! A DAY OFF DURING SEASON? dooo eeeetttt
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Posted: Thu Jul 02, 2015 11:57 pm
Body froze as nearly as heart for a moment, and Björn stood rapt for short minutes. He couldn't breathe. Colin's face was upturned. No recognition. Lights shining down to the stage, even lessened by it being just a practice, must have offered some measure of anonymity. Still Björn remained motionless as Colin left the pose to listen to more ridiculousness from September. The man seemed ready to crawl on the stage and demonstrate. The strongman's blood quickened with unexpected adrenaline, and muscles flexed and unflexed. This was Colin's job, but every instinct pointed that this was danger. The Ballet Master had overstepped bounds with Odile, and now he was broaching the same with 'Prince.' Björn finally moved. His feet carried him back out of the seats and down the stairs with rapid, heavy motion. Out of the building. If I stay, I will do something I regret. Or Colin will regret. It is not protecting him to attack his very workplace. Or his boss. Would it be? Would it be helping or harming all of them? Would I regret it? He paused in a turn of streets, then headed down an alleyway. The rightness or wrongness of it felt more obscure than ever, pointing to some inward turmoil and panic that time was running out. How far gone were his own morals and ethics, if even worry for a beloved weren't enough to prevent an act on behalf of Metallia? Or was it the motivation of 'helping' Colin and the dancers? Björn waited for a few minutes, but found no easy way presented to parse which was the motivation. His clothes melted away- vest and jeans and button down- and stood there in silken blacks and scale armor of roiling Chaos. Captain. Titan. He'd been in, around, through, up-down-in-between almost every part of the DCBC building in the months of Colin's first return and hiring there. Titan teleported with what was now practiced ease to the central walkway of the floor seats, towering black in the shadows red and gold. September was still berating. Titan started walking down towards the stage.
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 12:31 am
He was trying to listen to the corrections, the directions being given to him in harsh tones but now that he'd been able to push his hair out of the way he was trying to find the body in the high section. The shape...was familiar, or wasn't it? But September was hopping up onto the stage and snapping fingers right in his face, causing him to flinch back and refocus on the pair before him. "Attention, Mister Hargrove is there something more important to you than your role as the Prince? No? Good, then you will perhaps be interested in listening when we give you direction!" Colin bit at the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping back at September; usually he was okay with this sort of thing and often September praised him more than picked at. But he had been having a hard time and it was getting worse because it took a great deal of effort to not curl his hands to fists at his side and yell back. The guy - whomever he'd been - was gone. September was directly in his face saying something about emoting more, blah blah blah the Prince, yadda yadda haircut. The blond heard the sounds of the 'swans' going from a hushed murmur to almost nothing, which was strange at the very least. When September moved from directly before him to make a sweeping and grand gesture, Colin saw what caused the nervous hush. Titan. Christ what is he doing here of all places? Was he the one I saw before? Fuuuck me, I can't transform in front of all these people! Dammit dammit dammit--What could Titan possibly want from them? Why was he there, had he figured out that Colin was Aegir? And what could he do anyway, with his pen off in his dance bag - he'd have to figure out a way to keep it with him now, even when dancing. Plus, there were dozens of ballerinas. And September and Thombley. Even if he did transform it woud mean the end of his career, he'd be known. Once more, the Ballet Master was snapping fingers in his face to get his attention and muttering in a patois of gutter French swears, French and English about how dancers these days had no respect for their craft or their instructors. And once more, Colin had to fight the urge to snap, to maybe break an arm or just give as good as he got. Instead, he tried to indicate the danger and get the civilians moving towards oh...getting the ******** out of dodge. Too bad every time he opened his mouth September cut him off, he couldn't even put himself between them and Titan, even with the ballerinas edgy - this guy didn't look like he was a dancer, maybe there was trouble and they should go? Maybe? "Zip it, Mister Hargrove. One more word from you and we'll be using your understudy for the forseeable future." Fuuuuuuck.
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 1:50 am
" D'er lettast aa laera av annan manns skade. What waste. " Titan spoke it at an even, disgusted tone that echoed around the stage because of the low timbre and barrel of his chest anyway. The distance from the floor over the orchestra pit and onto the stage wasn't even much of a jump. His boots were far heavier than the rapid and fearful scuffings of all the ballet shoes. But what would you know of worth and discarding. "Discarding something in wholly when only parts of it is unacceptable...not so wise. You have too much energy to be wise. " As he spoke, the captain didn't bother to just put a hand on the Ballet Master. He took the man's extended arm, with waggling finger, by the wrist and lifted him by it off his feet. Off the ground and into the air. If the arm came out of socket wasn't a matter of much concern. It meant September couldn't wag it around in misuse. Contact wasn't necessary for energy draining, but it made it easier to control exactly the amount and flow, and the speed of the gathered orb. Enough to edge the man around consciousness or passing out in moments. Titan didn't watch September, though. He looked down at the ballerino who wasn't panicking or running to the backs of stage. Colin, who was more concerned with warning his boss that danger was approaching instead of saving himself from danger. You are too kind, too brave and selfless for a world beneath Metallia. Beloved and beautiful. Limping, stricken swan. More than these women chorus, with their honking like ducks and fluttering. They are not a prey reserved for a crown. They are barnyard commons. Do I feel guilt for doing this?
No. I don't. I don't feel guilty at all. I should be afraid of that. The only fear that made itself known was the look of Colin's eyes. Against all reason and proof, whether or not Colin would know him for who he was and hate him. It was fitting, if he did. He watched the Dansuer and nothing else. "You are not safe here." Syrie ' Wise men learn by other men's mistakes, fools by their own. '
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 2:14 am
The voice, so familiar with it's oddly construed syllables and patterns, but also unfamiliar with the disgust and scorn. Colin didn't need to know what he meant to understand the meaning, nor did he need to see September's face to know that finally the Ballet Master had gotten the message that he was in danger. Thombley cowered in a corner near the stage, but September could only turn to look at the massive hulk coming towards them in a stunned silence. He's gunning for September...but why? Does he not know, is this simply chance then that he showed up at my studio during my rehearsal? So many questions floated through his brain that could not be answered just then or indeed, perhaps not ever. The blond stepped forward as Titan laid hands on the other, lifting up and up and causing pain. But not death. He's just draining energy...what the hell is going on here?"Put the ballet master down." Purposefully he spoke in a firm, no-nonsense voice - one without quaver and with as much authority as the dancer could manage. He was afraid but also not, almost welcoming the idea that he could get into a skirmish with the massive Captain, get into a life-or-death fight right then and there. At once he was spoiling for it, colour going high and eyes bright as they hadn't been during the rehearsal. "So help me I will kick your a** if you don't." Titan was draining September (who flailed ineffectually and would eventually faint) but it was Colin who held the brunt of his gaze. It was so weird, looking into those blue eyes...the expression there, it seemed to soften slightly. Almost like this fellow was looking for something in him. "You guys are into trades, right? How about you take me instead?" Dumb. Dumb idea Colin. Yet he stood tall and straight, head high and eyes flashing - even without his pen, he was a senshi. It was his duty to protect the civilians of Destiny City - and the world - from the Negaverse. He could do that here. And if it was the last time? So be it. Maybe it would be, Titan was telling him he wasn't safe at the theatre - what did this guy know? "I'm not safe anywhere, then." His lips curved into a sharp smile, fists curling and uncurling at his sides, "So what do you say, deal or no deal?" Take it and get the ******** out of my theater before something worse happens. I'm glad he's only energy draining and not ripping star seeds, but how long before he changes his mind.
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 2:42 am
"The brave are always the first to die." Titanlåvenite spoke it on a long breath. "I do not need to trade. I do not need to make deals with wounded prey. You are all tribute. " Tribute subjects and tithe to a tyrant usurper. Willingness had no bearing. It never did for tyrants. Less for an alien thing with no body and only gnawing, hungry, hateful malice. Colin's words might have been more of a threat if more of the dancers banded together, or if Titan was only a lieutenant, or if he didn't know the layout of the stage and its sandbags for changing backdrops. Many crows could menace a bear to convince it to leave, but it didn't worry the captain. With a haul, September was skidded across the stage floor like a stone across the surface of a pond. Titan cupped the medium sized energy orb, then closed it in fist out of sight. Practice is over and will be for today. For tomorrow, probably. That will be something. Feet and joints can heal. They can all eat and sleep with just self directed practice to burn calories. Titan nodded to Colin, token to what it took to continue standing there and to dare to speak to an enemy bearing weapon and magics as lethal as the Negaverse. Daring and foolishness, with no better armor than tights and human strength, speed and agility. "I have what I came for."
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 3:00 am
No s**t, Sherlock. Probably because only the brave were willing to take on the really difficult stuff. But he wasn't a brave man, he was just...he did what he felt was right. Which was why Colin narrowed his eyes at the Negaverse Captain and set his jaw stubbornly. "Wounded prey? The hell do you think is wounded prey?!" Once more they met, only this time he wasn't powered - no match for the Captain at all as he stood. Unfortunately he was also just done with people telling him what to do, how to do it, who he ought to be - Prince, prey or tribute. Even the little nod he was given was like sandpaper across raw nerves. If I had my pen... But he didn't. What he did have were two hands, a lot of anger, and really poor decision making skills. It was a horribly volatile mix, combustable as gunpowder and flame. Colin snapped. "That's ******** it!" The dancer surged forward, angry and blinded by it, spoiling for a fight even if he had no way of winning. But he didn't care, he was going to ******** punch the Captain right in his crap-lousy face or maybe strangle him with his braid if he got lucky enough to do either. "I'm tired of assholes telling me what's what--" The Captain would find himself with a very angry, very wild costume-wearing blond all up in his space - chock full of righteous wrath and keen on flesh striking flesh. "May' jIH joq Hegh!" He hissed; Titan wasn't the only person that could speak in another damn language to confuse the issue (so there). Ivynian basically, he's saying fight me or i'll kick your a**
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 5:10 pm
Whatever Colin said, the small onslaught started with a leap and a connection of fist to jaw that turned the captain's face to the side. The dancer landed, and his second blow was already aimed, connected unhindered, square to the washboard prepared for it. He breathes heavy. Sweat is already beading along his cheeks. The lights are hot. His hair sticks at the corner of his mouth. It is cute long. The third blow went to ribs and serratus. It stung, sounding a loud and hollow thud from his lung, but little more. Titan didn't need the actual math of averages and physics compared to his experiences in training against other officers, senshi, youma- even at a punching force of twice his own body weight, Colin's exertion didn't compare to the three-times magical enhanced capability to the body of a strongman- a bench press that had been an impressive 400lbs had become 1200lbs as a captain. Muscle was dense and packed as ironwood in uniform. He would bruise, little more. But Colin was flagging already after just three blows. He was overworked, trying to push combat after an already grueling practice. He's needed this. It is better that it is me, even if he doesn't know. But he's too tired. He could hurt himself. I can't let him hit the ground. Titan kept an eye for tries at kicking or aiming for sensitive, though armored, parts. He waited in case Colin needed to be caught, as well, rather than let the danseur collapse to the wooden stage in a heap.
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 5:43 pm
Truthfully, striking Titan brought to mind his younger, angrier days. Days of getting so frustrated and angry he'd struck out at the nearest non-breathing object. Like a brick wall or telephone pole. The pole had more give than Titan's flesh, but after everything Colin just did not give a ********. Just the fact that the big Captain's head was turned forcibly was enough to please him, ugly as it was to feel or think that way. Ridiculous. The whole scene must have been ridiculous to those watching; a velvet and hose clad dancer who's height was more of a match to a single bicep attacking some magically enhanced terrorist heedlessly. Such a farce and yet he wouldn't back down. Some of the ballerinas made worried noises or gasped or even tried to call for him to stop and get away from the black-clad giant, but Colin paid them no mind. They didn't matter. Not even bright enough to realize this was no game, that they could lose their lives and should run. Stupid...such stupid creatures...and I'm the biggest fool of them all.Colin stood before the Captain, panting and swaying but still glaring up at the other man for all he was worth. As far as he was concerned, this guy and his kind were the reason his life was so ********. Whether that made any sort of sense or not, was true - or not - honestly didn't matter either. There's no way, he's impossible like this. Christ I feel like s**t. Spots danced within his field of vision as he stepped back to better launch a kick, but doing so made his ankle twinge and give out under him before any offensive action could be taken. Pain and heat, malnutrition and over-work. It was just too much for his taxed system to stand. "Get. Out." He was falling, half fainting from heat and exertion; lungs struggling to deliver adequate oxygen to an already foggy brain but hampered by the tight confines of his costume. Falling into the arms of the enemy again, huh? I'll never learn.
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 6:22 pm
The time came- Colin started to fall. Titan shifted forward and caught Colin around his shoulders, drawing him close for a moment. The Captain lead down into a one-kneed kneel, supporting danseur against his raised thigh. He's too flushed. Not getting enough air. That was an easy solution. Titan took a moment to feel with fingers along the the neck of the top to the back for the hidden zipper in the velvet and embroidery. With a succinct jerk, it was broken, then another tug and it was pulled whole apart, then off each arm. There was a familiar, mixing breath of bodysoap and sweat unique wholly to Colin. Titan's throat and jaw worked with tension, resisting drawing Colin up into an embrace. "Breath slowly, don't swallow the air." Then he lifted the danseur like a bride- one arm behind Colin's back and one under his knees. A single leap took them down to the red plush seats that would have to do. At least it was cushioned. 'Siegfried' was put carefully into the front row, then Titan backed. He waited a moment, seeming to weigh choices, then returned to the stage long enough to claim the broken top.
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 6:55 pm
There was something wholly familiar and even reassuring, being cradled so tenderly by the massive Captain...if only he wasn't ready to claw his own throat for air. Instead, his fingers dug into the black silk of Titan's shirt, twisting there and clinging for all he was worth. Enemy or not, this was the harbor he'd crashed upon, this was the "safe" space to keep from drowning. Colin's head rested against the bigger man's shoulder briefly - it helped stop the room from spinning and gave him a means of keeping order to his location. Fuzzy thoughts that he should push away, get away, crowded in and then slipped out without being acted upon. None of his parts really listened to his commands. Titan's fingers probing along his collar sent a shudder through his body - would he crush his throat? Was this the end? If not, why. Why does he treat me like something precious? Much like abstract paintings, nothing made sense to the dancer just then. He was being stripped from the tight velvet top, carefully. The situation had gone from David and Goliath comedic proportions to outright batshit; perhaps he would have laughed, were he not dragging in some much needed air. "Titan, you're...strange." His voice sounded strained, body language tensed for reasons Colin didn't have the energy to fathom, nor the time really. When those big arms hefted him in a bridal carry, the dancer put his arms around the captain's neck automatically; he was still dizzy, but feeling better by the moment. Curiously, it was being held that seemed to be doing the most, after adequate oxygen - Colin had no idea what to think about that, save the sensation of being cherished and wholly safe that came over him. Björn. That's it. It feels like that. s**t, was he going to start crying, too? Being set down was disappointing but Colin didn't fight. He probably could have been carted off, like Princess Peach by that point and not fought it. The bone-deep weariness he'd been dragging himself around in spite of weighted his limbs. Titan went back for his ruined top and it was all he could do to lift a hand, to speak. "Hey. Costuming's gonna be pissed if you take it." Why do you even want it? Why did you come, if you aren't going to wreck the place like so many of your kind? Confusing man. "I guess it's already ruined." Annoyance clouded the dancer's features; each day he came to work from eight in the morning and stayed until eight in the evening - or later, if he was dancing in shows that night. After, he simply changed costumes and set about his 'other' job. Maybe it's time to check myself into the mental ward, I must be nuts to be feeling like this. The wont to not let the captain leave was strong as it was strange to him, but then...the last few years had been strange. Why should this be any different?
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Posted: Fri Jul 03, 2015 7:25 pm
More cunning and less despondent men would have asked how a dancer knew the officer's name was Titan, both since the captain had never declared it and interest in where did the dancer learnt it. The captain, however, didn't notice, since he knew Colin's name was Colin Hargrove and some part of his mind expected Colin must know exactly what to call him. In that guise he was 'Titan.' It just made sense while making none at all. After months, it was stranger to hear any other name except Titan. Strange and already ruined. These are both true. But I miss you. I miss knowing things clear and simple. I miss feeling everything. I called myself a weapon, before, to be wielded by Obsidian's will. What a simple wish and thought. I didn't recognize how far that could go, or how much it surrendered- what does steel ever feel. The grip on the costume top was fisted, like mention of them would bring costume workers out to try to take the thing with any hope of doing so. Then it was tucked by an end securely into belt. "The angry can come and find me. I will be waiting. They can try." It was a simple, foolish token and winning for a not even battle that should never have happened. But it would be all that he had, and it was going to be stuffed safe and secret into the pillowcase of the cot he 'owned' of the Barracks. A sick feeling coiled, speaking of taking Colin, too, untenable and truly mad- If he hoped to leave himself, how could dragging Colin to Laurelite just to have the danseur by his side help anything? Selfishness. Stupidity. Greed. Destruction. Ruin. Titan vanished in a blink, out again from the place as suddenly as he'd appeared.
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