(Untitled)

[witfrommytongue]

Some of you in the Nexus may recognise this man- tall, whipcord thin and striking; androgynous, alien-looking, with a shock of hot red hair and made up face, eyes mismatched, lips narrow, cheekbones high.  He looks, in fact, just like David Bowie did during the early seventies, when he was masquerading as the spaceboy saviour of Earth.  Only

Comments

[te_gwas]

Really? David Bowie? David Bowie as (the instantly recognisable) Ziggy Stardust. Really. Alright, Nexus, you win this round.

"Depends on why the world is doomed and who will be dying with it."

If he's anything but rational, he might have to sit down and take a few moments to himself. For the moment, then, he'll take the practical approach to avoid an embarrassing overreaction to this particular Nexus-goer.

[witfrommytongue]

Ziggy takes another draw on that fag, leisurely exhaling the smoke in wavering rings as he appears to consider Ianto's question. After the time it takes to do that, he laughs.

'Everyone, babe. Humanity's gonna swallow itself right up.'

He shifts, catlike, one long thigh sliding over the other as he turns to face Ianto, propping his chin up on one hand. 'Why does it depend?'

[te_gwas]

Ianto shrugs and tucks his hands into his trouser pockets. "You could've been talking about another world. I'm sure there are a few I wouldn't shed a tear over." Like whichever one the Cybermen come from, for instance. Or the Daleks. He's not sure if they have their own planets.

[witfrommytongue]

'There are innumerable planets dying every instant,' he acknowledges agreeably. 'But Earth is the one I'm on, so Earth is the one I have the power to affect.'

He cocks his head. A strange reaction from this boy, as if he was quite used to the concept of other planets and worlds. Not that there should be anything strange about that, but most humans, to his experience, were not so enlightened, and this one certainly seems human.

[te_gwas]

Oh, this one certainly is human. And very much interested in the welfare of his own planet. The tilt of the head gets an eyebrow in return, and Ianto's starting to think this isn't just David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust. "I suppose it depends on what's required for salvation, as well. There are some lengths to which people won't or can't go."

[witfrommytongue]

Ianto may be comforted with the knowledge that it's very much not his version of Earth that Ziggy is concerned with saving.

He sighs, sucking on the fag again. 'Just awareness, that's all. You lot do love to put your blinders on; you need someone to shout the truth at you before you'll see it.'

Tapping the ash from his cigarette out onto the Nexus floor, he pauses, a thought seeming to occur to him. 'What's the name, love? I think we might have neglected our introductions.'

[te_gwas]

"Tried shouting. People actually don't want to listen, mostly."

He spares the briefest of thoughts for whatever poor soul has to clean up the Nexus. Does anyone clean the Nexus? Well, someone must. He hopes they get paid a lot.

"Jones, sir. Ianto Jones."

[witfrommytongue]

Oh, now Ziggy knows all about people refusing to listen, even when the message is couched in a beautiful body and- let's be honest- some bloody awesome music. He's fortunate to have (mostly) captured the youth of his Earth.

One long, elegant hand waves dismissal, trailing smoke behind it. 'Cut the sir, Jones, Ianto Jones; there's no need.' He gives him a slow smile, sharp and utterly beguiling, paradoxical in its combination of sincerity and calculation. 'And you, sweet thing, can call me Ziggy.'

[te_gwas]

Torchwood is all about the good looks approach to getting attention. Jack Harkness' charms might be the only thing keeping the Earth safe from invasion, some days.

"Ziggy," Ianto tries, getting used to the name. He can't help but hum the accompanying played guitar under his breath as he takes a seat of his own, fingers drumming idly on the armrests. "So," he says slowly, "how's the hazy cosmic jive going?"

[witfrommytongue]

He isn't, of course, familiar with the song Ziggy Stardust, but he catches the snatch of tune nonetheless, and it makes him smile. The question which follows it only makes that smile widen.

'Waiting for a Starman, were you? You,' the word is punctuated by the hand holding the cigarette, indicating Ianto with a crook of the finger, 'are not from the Earth I know. No young dude dresses like that there. But you know my music nonetheless. So how'd that happen, Ianto? Did it seep through the cracks in the world, or am I just that good?'

[te_gwas]

Ianto's hands go up in the (multi?) universal gesture of 'you caught me'. "A little of both, I imagine, with an emphasis on the latter." Because if Ziggy's biographical song is anything to go by, he really is that good. And perhaps it's not unheard of for music to come through the Rift - combined with a little spacial genetic multiplicity... you know, maybe it's best not to think about it.

"But yes, some of your music found its way through, apparently. Very big where I'm from. And we've got a Starman of sorts, though that's more coincidence, I think." The resemblance between the Starman and the Doctor has hardly escaped him, after all.

[witfrommytongue]

With emphasis on the latter is a very good choice of words there, Ianto, darling, and Ziggy's ego appreciates the stroking. 'Is it?' Oh, and he's pleased by that. Though he may make his occasional forays into narcissism, it doesn't mean he doesn't occasionally suffer from the fear that nothing he does will do any good in the long run. He's trying to save the world with glam rock, after all; that's a bit of a tall order.

There's another armchair near the one he's occupying- in fact, silvery-blue platform boots are resting on its arm- and he gives a little jerk of the head in invitation for Ianto to seat himself. A lazy smile plays around his lips. 'And is it big with you as well?' Go on, you know you love him.

[te_gwas]

"Yup," Ianto accedes, relocating to the armchair with little hesitation and leaning against the arm opposite of those decidedly groovy boots. (Shush, he's an eighties child.) "I grew up on it. I've got records." Well, technically he's got CDs, but he had records, once upon a time. "Very inspirational. Not so much that everyone was inspired and the world was saved through it, but personally inspirational, which I don't think is any less valid."

[witfrommytongue]

The smile persists throughout that, because yeah, he loves his fans. His band might bitch about them, but not Ziggy Stardust. The little addendum makes his forehead crease, though, and those decidedly groovy boots fold down onto his own chair as he shifts to lean on the arm, bringing himself a little closer to Ianto; there's something not quite conducive to conversation about having one's boots in another's face, groovy though they may be. Remember that bit about fears for his success? Well, you've just managed to hit that right at the heart, Ianto, and Ziggy takes a moment to find suitably flippant words.

'Aw, don't tell me that; I'm just starting out, darlin', bad form to tell me how my story ends before I've had the chance to sing it.'

One last drag on the cigarette, and he flicks it away into the Nexus at large- pity those poor cleaners again, Ianto. 'Though,' he adds, cheering somewhat, leaning in with a conspirator's air, 'I'm dead chuffed you like it.'

[te_gwas]

"Two different worlds," Ianto reminds him with a faintly amused smile. "I'm spoiling someone else's story, not yours." He clasps his hands in his lap and leans against the now-free arm instead. "My Earth is still being saved, though, if it helps. Just through secret organisations instead of glam rock."

He's really going to have to find an ashtray, if Ziggy keeps this up. Think of the poor carpets. "Love it, even. I've been to a few of your concerts. Well, his concerts. He's like you, but not quite. He's not an alien, just a rock star." A pause. "As far as we can tell."

[witfrommytongue]

That is a comfort, actually, and he shifts again, flashing another one of those grins. They're both leaning towards each other now, suddenly, unexpectedly close, and Ziggy takes the opportunity to run a fingertip down the sleeve of Ianto's suit, appreciating the crispnes of the fabric, the way it hangs. He's never actually seen a handsome young man wearing a suit like this, and he finds himself rather pleasantly surprised at how good it looks.

Languorously, his eyes track up to Ianto's face, openly curious. 'Like me but not? Tell me more.'