today, i
"so i've met a saint today," he says, consonants slurred pleasantly by his umpteenth cup of wine.
(the speaker being a beautiful man with dark curls cascading over his shoulders, vines and grapes and leaves resting upon his fine head.)
he's reclining on a rather attractive couch, glass in hand, while a handsome butterfly-winged boy presses open-mouthed kisses to his bare chest, his own cup of wine drained and forgotten on the floor.
"a saint?" he is questioned, rather dryly, by someone on the opposite couch--a man the mirror of the handsome boy, down to the golden curls and blue eyes. the only difference is the two white bird wings sprouting from his shoulderblades, arching gracefully toward the ceiling. "you know saints, halfwit?"
said halfwit pouts at the golden-haired man, wine sloshing in his cup rather unhappily. "'course i know my saints, eros, i wasn't drunk during the whole christianity bit. anyway. i think his name was s...s... sebastian," he says eventually.
laughing, eros downs his cup and gives dionysus one of his looks.
"no, no!" dionysus says, frowning at eros again and causing the boy laying atop him to sigh, sounding rather put-out. "anteros, darling, keep giving me those kisses--" and he leans to peck the boy on the mouth (eros' look gets worse) before continuing with his story.
"--anyway," he says, sounding much more offended than he should have, "i met sebastian. nice fellow. he had that... that whole aura thing going on."
(he did. sebastian hadn't set out to meet a god of a religion entirely different than the one he follows--followed? he can't tell anymore--but its hard not to recognise divinity once one has felt it before. so he paused.
stopped. turned around, heels clacking.
and behold, there was dionysus! walking home from--a salon, perhaps?--hair perfect and auburn, a slight swing in his gait, but he, too, paused upon seeing sebastian.
they looked.
then the saint laughed, striding over to loop his arm into the wine god's, inviting him for a good cup of strong coffee--to discuss this amazing meeting, by god. dionysus, just a bit perturbed, hesitantly agreed, and off the pair went.)
"so?" asked eros, cutting into dionysus' rather pleasant reminiscings (discussing the affair of religion today, brainwashed masses, how lovely the coffee was, where do you get your hair done my darling, where do you shop?) but dionysus just grumbled at him, gulping his wine down in a hurry, to pull anteros up for a spirited kiss.
so he didn't have to talk.
eros was a jerk, anyway.
(the speaker being a beautiful man with dark curls cascading over his shoulders, vines and grapes and leaves resting upon his fine head.)
he's reclining on a rather attractive couch, glass in hand, while a handsome butterfly-winged boy presses open-mouthed kisses to his bare chest, his own cup of wine drained and forgotten on the floor.
"a saint?" he is questioned, rather dryly, by someone on the opposite couch--a man the mirror of the handsome boy, down to the golden curls and blue eyes. the only difference is the two white bird wings sprouting from his shoulderblades, arching gracefully toward the ceiling. "you know saints, halfwit?"
said halfwit pouts at the golden-haired man, wine sloshing in his cup rather unhappily. "'course i know my saints, eros, i wasn't drunk during the whole christianity bit. anyway. i think his name was s...s... sebastian," he says eventually.
laughing, eros downs his cup and gives dionysus one of his looks.
"no, no!" dionysus says, frowning at eros again and causing the boy laying atop him to sigh, sounding rather put-out. "anteros, darling, keep giving me those kisses--" and he leans to peck the boy on the mouth (eros' look gets worse) before continuing with his story.
"--anyway," he says, sounding much more offended than he should have, "i met sebastian. nice fellow. he had that... that whole aura thing going on."
(he did. sebastian hadn't set out to meet a god of a religion entirely different than the one he follows--followed? he can't tell anymore--but its hard not to recognise divinity once one has felt it before. so he paused.
stopped. turned around, heels clacking.
and behold, there was dionysus! walking home from--a salon, perhaps?--hair perfect and auburn, a slight swing in his gait, but he, too, paused upon seeing sebastian.
they looked.
then the saint laughed, striding over to loop his arm into the wine god's, inviting him for a good cup of strong coffee--to discuss this amazing meeting, by god. dionysus, just a bit perturbed, hesitantly agreed, and off the pair went.)
"so?" asked eros, cutting into dionysus' rather pleasant reminiscings (discussing the affair of religion today, brainwashed masses, how lovely the coffee was, where do you get your hair done my darling, where do you shop?) but dionysus just grumbled at him, gulping his wine down in a hurry, to pull anteros up for a spirited kiss.
so he didn't have to talk.
eros was a jerk, anyway.