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exsiliumlogs2013-05-13 01:04 am
bumbles) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-05-13 01:04 am
Entry tags:
Some days are magic, and I can do anything.
Date & Time: Monday 13th, morning.
Location: Palace of CRUSHING EMOTION aka. Morgana and Arya's place
Characters: Donny &imposter-sister Morgana
Summary: oh god personal space and tattoos
Warnings: Donny being agonisingly awkward and Morgana being unapologetically fascinated
( Even before the crash, he'd been evading the Initiative housing. Went in to shower, grab bedding scavenge things from the room that was meant to be his. Not taking a thing from anyone else, but claiming bits and pieces that where he could.
At least he had already known Morgana: when he decided to remove himself from the official housing completely, he'd been able to work up the nerve to ask if he could use her shower, sometimes. After a night of wandering rooftops and trapping petty criminals in stone cages, trading bruises and all the rest, being able to immerse himself in a hot shower was all he wanted. He never appeared as Atlas, though, always as Donny.
It's a day like the other thirteen that have crossed his path, here, letting the water blaze over his skin, and missing the days when water could burn him, just a little bit.
Anyway. He steps out of the shower, and his skin is dry almost immediately, pulling on boxers and jeans, letting his fingers run over the Sphinx on his ribs. It was a ritual, now, more than it had ever been before. Thank God he had that, because it was a way to remind himself that there was a world back home that was real, that Max was real.
He's still staring at the tattoo as he palms the counter for his toothbrush, but-- oh, crap, he left it in his bag. Okay, fine. That's fine. Maybe he can just lean out of the bathroom far enough to grab his backpack, and no one will see.
It's a nice thought, when you forget you are currently invading the personal space of one very intense young sorceress, and that there are tattoos decorating the arm in question: a celtic band across his bicep, the tree of life on the inside of his forearm. )
Location: Palace of CRUSHING EMOTION aka. Morgana and Arya's place
Characters: Donny &
Summary: oh god personal space and tattoos
Warnings: Donny being agonisingly awkward and Morgana being unapologetically fascinated
( Even before the crash, he'd been evading the Initiative housing. Went in to shower, grab bedding scavenge things from the room that was meant to be his. Not taking a thing from anyone else, but claiming bits and pieces that where he could.
At least he had already known Morgana: when he decided to remove himself from the official housing completely, he'd been able to work up the nerve to ask if he could use her shower, sometimes. After a night of wandering rooftops and trapping petty criminals in stone cages, trading bruises and all the rest, being able to immerse himself in a hot shower was all he wanted. He never appeared as Atlas, though, always as Donny.
It's a day like the other thirteen that have crossed his path, here, letting the water blaze over his skin, and missing the days when water could burn him, just a little bit.
Anyway. He steps out of the shower, and his skin is dry almost immediately, pulling on boxers and jeans, letting his fingers run over the Sphinx on his ribs. It was a ritual, now, more than it had ever been before. Thank God he had that, because it was a way to remind himself that there was a world back home that was real, that Max was real.
He's still staring at the tattoo as he palms the counter for his toothbrush, but-- oh, crap, he left it in his bag. Okay, fine. That's fine. Maybe he can just lean out of the bathroom far enough to grab his backpack, and no one will see.
It's a nice thought, when you forget you are currently invading the personal space of one very intense young sorceress, and that there are tattoos decorating the arm in question: a celtic band across his bicep, the tree of life on the inside of his forearm. )