Date: Friday, 7 July 2000
Time: Late afternoon
Location: Cobalt Viriconium antique records shoppe, Muggle London
Characters Involved: Montague Morsus and OPEN (Please, ask before joining)
Status: Incomplete
Rating: PG-13 at the very least
(
She shuddered in disgust, necrophiliac, necrophiliac! The lilies of her spirits high withered, disappearing into Lethe, leaving a faint scent of their sprinkling colour )
Then again - nothing surprising. The boy was a container of all sorts of mental insecurities, clearly.
"You are bothered," Montague said after a few seconds filled with silence - only the small drops of Terry's cigarette ashes making a 'banging' sound against the floor.
It was interesting - watching the other man tremble, very imperceptibly, eyes closed, with random twitches of his limbs disturbing the peace of the moment. Should he let the boy suffer a bit more or release him now? Play or no play? Such an interesting choice. Did Montague feel like a Muggle Messiah or more like their Lucifer? (Such an interesting notion, that.)
It said - in every deed there is an element of play, and there was a firework of ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
With eyes slightly unfocused, Terry listened to the heated words that Montague spoke. Madness and Horror. And, as per usual, the boy reacted only with slowly dilating pupils and a look of worry. -Adding in a little eye-widening at the man's finishing words and action- never a kiss. A touch ( ... )
Reply
Like a beggar's prayer before the midnight frost leaves its silky bite, on the flesh, so pure and crystal.
In everyone's lives, there had to be a moment when the old ways were forgotten, even for a single moment - in everyone's lives. Like a momentary insanity, the lapse of judgement, something that cost them dearly. They all had to have been marred initially with the blemish of illusion, the inability to see past the artificial constructions. It was all - 'enlightenment!', 'strange coincidences' and 'deeds of angels'. Never the imperfect IdMontague had never been prone ( ... )
Reply
He swallowed; his own beryl eyes unblinking- caught on Montague's brine. Terry could feel the colour being pushed out of the way as the black centres expanded. Their faces were close- only mere universes apart.
Hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht? The world dropped away as darkness burgeoned. Terry was distantly reminded of Obler's paradox; of how the night sky is dark, when in a static infinite universe the night sky ought to be bright. With all of the blinding holocaust, everything still managed to lurk in the shadows.
In its red cage, Terry's heart beat lustily. His face betrayed his mental disquietude- eyebrows peaked with worry, lips turned down. "I have tremor cordis on me; my heart dances. But not for joy."
The Winter's Tale, indeed.
Reply
"Affection? Thy intention stabs the Centre," Montague replied, cocking his head slightly to the right. It skewed the angle, changing the landscape dramatically. The snowy-white steppes of Terry's skin unblemished by vulgar dots and commas, forests and your cathedrals - the pure and lightweight nothingness in between Montague's palms. He moved his thumbs, caressing the boy's porcelain, gaze on the dichotomy of his fingers and the other's face - tanned against pale. And yet, in the darkness there was more frost than it was to the spectral All.
Too hot, too hot."Tell me you are mine," Montague commanded imperatively, hands still cupping Terry's cheeks. Something had to be done to that perfection. The ever-lasting human desire to taint, rot and paint with blood reds and hematoma blue. "Concede," he said, their ( ... )
Reply
It was already walking paths towards an Unknown Terry wouldn't discover for years.
But his thoughts were jarred quickly- eyes focusing once again on the small ships, white sails snapping, sailing on high seas, as the man came in closer. The galaxies bewteen them were collapsing! He was destroying them! Terry, feeling frightened, inhaled quickly, about to pull back- when he heard the words that were being spoken to him. His brow smoothed as a fearful sort of realisation fell upon him. Concede?Sell him your soul ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
It took a few moments for things to come back- thoughts, memories, emotions. Terry, when he (or his body, anyway) had been leaning against Montague, had been 'somewhere else.' Not that he remembered where that place was now. -And he was feeling more than a little spacey.
With hesitant steps Terry trailed Montague, after he'd gestured, to the cashier's counter. And he stood a good metre away as the employee began ringing up the records, idly tapping his left sneaker on the dirty floorboards. Eyes were kept on a strange burn (that resembled someone Terry couldn't quite put his finger on) on the floor next to the 'R & B' rack.
The boy could hardly collect his thoughts for even a second. --A sure sign that medicines were in order.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment