(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

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[campjesus]

Brody, by contrast, is the wee little gothlet whose ensemble is entirely more coherent (all black, all the time), with the bizarrely asexual aura preventing him from picking up on any sexu-or-sensu-ality. (We approve of this, he's seventeen.) He smokes too much (hoarse voice) and drinks too much (hand gripping beer bottle too tightly).

"There's always something worth saving." Well, he's not talking about worlds, but it's close enough.

[witfrommytongue]

Ziggy Stardust, however, is an intensely sexual being, and so pretty little glammed-up Brody with the studs in his face and the makeup will get a lazily appreciative look.

'How do you judge worth?' He uncoils himself to transfer his regard entirely to the boy, sifting a few fingertips through his hair as he does so. He's genuinely curious; he doesn't really understand how humans view their world, not when the ones he's come to know are so blatantly dismissive of it.

[campjesus]

He's wearing a lot of clothes, and they're all too big for him. The effect is probably intentional. He shrugs: "It's always there, and that's enough for me. I don't believe there's anyone--anything, whatever--beyond forgiveness, so it stands to reason there's nothing not worth saving." He punctuates this with a long swig of beer. He's not drunk, not even tipsy, but he is on his way there, yessir.

[witfrommytongue]

'You're talking morality, then.'

Ziggy doesn't entirely go in for morality, in the traditional sense. He and his lot are, morally speaking, a bit like hippies grown up and gone square. Peace and love and harmony and all that- it's for that very reason, in fact, that he's come to Earth, a planet embroiled in its own internal, petty conflicts, its people on the verge of extinction from lack of natural resources.

[campjesus]

"I don't know. I don't think so, though. In that I don't, like, think there's some universal moral code that applies to everyone ever, and that people who don't measure up don't deserve it." He rubs the tip of his nose, sniffs, and drinks again.

[witfrommytongue]

'Forgiveness, though.' The cherry of his cigarette flares red as he finishes it off, and he tosses the butt aside. 'That's moral. It's not a concept that can exist without morality.'

You'll forgive him if he's got used to discussing these sorts of things as if those around him are stoned out of their tiny minds, and as profound as people tend to be in those sorts of situations. It's what he's become accustomed to thus far, in his short time on Earth; the rock'n'roll lifestyle affords it, particularly in this age, where drugs have become so much more the norm than they ever were before. It's like the people know that the end is coming, even if they refuse to see it.

[campjesus]

Fortunately, Brody is used to having stoner discussions both sober and high as fuck. Pretty much anything that comes out of his mouth when he's sober is as bad when he's not--probably worse because he doesn't have an excuse except 'LIQUID CRACK FLOWS THROUGH MY VERY VEINS'. He does think he needs to be drunker for this conversation and is setting out to achieve that. "If morality's not involved, then does anyone really need saving? There's an ash tray over there," he says sweetly and with a heavy dose of irony.

[witfrommytongue]

If it's a drink he's looking for, Ziggy could probably produce one for him. Or any other number of substances. He hasn't got anything other than a joint stashed in one pocket at the moment, but he figured out the whole PINpointing thing fairly quickly, so if Brody really were inclined to ask, he'd probably be only too glad to hop back to his universe for something or other.

At the boy's question in return, he shakes his head, smirking a little. 'Not soul-saving, love. That's up to them. All I'm interested in is stopping the race- and it's planet- from devouring themselves from the inside out.'

Though if he did manage to enlighten a few souls on the way, he'd be quite pleased about that, really. Though he might fondly indulge in snark and sarcasm, he's really a good-natured sort at the root of things. He hasn't found himself corrupted by his own teachings quite yet.

[campjesus]

If he knew, he would, but it's probably better that he doesn't know. He's got a pretty bad problem. Also, should really stop getting high with strangers, Brody, you terrible devil child.

"Why?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette case--he has three cigarettes in there and they're all thin black cloves, because he's a cliche wrapped in a cliche. He puts one behind his ear, but he doesn't smoke it yet, and puts the case back.

[witfrommytongue]

Ziggy probably wouldn't be able to tell that it's a problem, to be frank. Give him enough time and he'll unsuspectingly develop a plethora of problems himself; he's all about sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll, is Ziggy Stardust. To that end, then, there's absolutely no reaction to the clove or the cliche of it as Brody pulls it out, and he shrugs in answer to the question, a languid motion.

'I've been sent,' he offers, matter-of-factly. 'And I suppose...' he sucks idly on the tip of a finger for a moment, thin lips pursing around it as he thinks on his answer. 'They're such bright, beautiful children.' Humans, is what he means. 'It would seem a shame for them to die in such indignity. Out with a whimper- one of your pets said that, didn't he?'

[campjesus]

And that is clearly why there should be no getting high here.

He makes googly eyes at the person who actually happens to be playing bartender today--sometimes someone gets it in their head that it'd be a good idea--who is being very long-suffering about all the people sitting or lying on the bar instead of in chairs like civilized people (this is seriously an epidemic in the Nexus), until he gives him a fresh beer and a shot, because nothing is a better idea than mixing alcohol. "So, duty, then. And yeah, something like that."

[witfrommytongue]

Oh, a bar, lovely. With an extremely harrassed-looking woman behind it. Ziggy flashes her a smile which is more immediately effective than Brody's eye-googling, and ends up with a strangely-coloured drink in a tall glass with a twist of lime curled enticingly around the frosted lip of it. He sips. Mmm, lovely. The bartender gets a murmured 'Ta, love,' before he turns back to Brody.

His answer sparks a note of curiosity, though, and Ziggy lets the glass dangle from his fingers, eyes narrowed. 'Would you feel any sense of duty? To your own people, should the hounds of hell come a-nipping at their heels?'

[campjesus]

He makes a small noise, pushing around the shot glass instead of immediately consuming it. In the very back of his mind he's aware that getting drunk never solves anything, but every time he keeps thinking that's going to change. There are a lot of things he could say, but none he feels like sharing with strangers. Instead he pulls that cigarette out from behind his ear and lights it with awkward, stiff hands.

"There would be nothing I could do." That's evasive.

[witfrommytongue]

The motion is so fluid it might never have been there at all, but suddenly Ziggy's at the bar with him, leaning against the counter, one leg slid carefully over the other in a posture like a woman's. That was evasion if he's ever heard it, and he can't help but be curious. He's already appointed himself the saviour of the disillusioned and the dispossessed, the youths unsatisfied with their lot, and Brody pretty much screams that he falls into every single one of these categories. At least to Ziggy's eyes.

He takes another sip. 'We're not talking ability, babe; would you want to do something? Someone tells you your world's doomed to die in five years; would it hurt you, that there would be nothing you could do?'

[campjesus]

That's one way of looking at it, but Brody prefers to just look dumb, like he's doing right now, blinking placidly like there's nothing going on in his peroxided, Manic Panic'd head. No one likes stupid people, and they leave them alone. "No." He is uncomfortable being asked personal questions, but that much was pretty obvious.

[witfrommytongue]

It is pretty obvious. As is the lie, which Ziggy scoffs at. 'Try another one, and care to make it more convincing this time? You were the one just talking about how everyone's worthy of forgiveness.'