(Untitled)

[bitter_mercy]

*He is lying on his back on a table, head tilted back over the edge, longish hair falling upwards. There are circles of shadows under his eyes. He manages to still look like a fairly composed, if a little eccentric, Victorian banker.*

Killing minions just doesn't do it tonight.

Killing dogs didn't work either.

*sigh*

What are some good booze

Comments

[vicioussweetie]

"What's wrong, Sheo?"

[bitter_mercy]

Hello, pretty.

[vicioussweetie]

"Hello darling. You've not answered my question."

[bitter_mercy]

I know.

How are you, my dear?

[vicioussweetie]

"I'm waiting for an answer. And a hug."

[bitter_mercy]

*He plucks her into his arms and spins her about.*

[vicioussweetie]

She laughs, wrapping her arms around him. "This works too."

[bitter_mercy]

I thought you'd like it. *he kisses her forehead and sets her down, her feet on his feet, waltzing slowly.*

[vicioussweetie]

"You're very clever." She rests her cheek against his, enjoying the dance.

[bitter_mercy]

I get paid to be.

*pause as he dances*

Actually, I don't get paid.

[vicioussweetie]

"I can pay you in hugs and kisses, if you'd like."

[bitter_mercy]

That wouldn't be too bad.

I like eels, too.

[vicioussweetie]

"Eels for eating or eels for pets?"

[bitter_mercy]

Eels.

Eels eels. Eels that speak and sing under the mud.

*He may not be quite all here right now...*

[vicioussweetie]

"Oh, that sort." She lowers her head to his shoulder. "What do they sing about?"

[bitter_mercy]

*He strokes her hair softly.*

They sing about what's down there under everything where they swim. Down below where the dead men lie, in the gutters of the universe. Down and down where my feet are, where I kneel with the ones who whisper at me in their sleep and tell them it will be all right. Doen where the blasphemers first speak, where the refuse sinks to, down.

They sing about what lives between goats and what dies between notes and what breathes where there is no breath, and dies where there is no death.