exsiliumlogs | beneath the stars came falling on our heads

[ The beauty of it, of witnessing it unfold, is staggering. She has her breath held, both hands clutched together in anticipation. As it hovers there, and he explains, she releases a soft sigh, leaning in once again with one hand dropping to rest between them. She is charmed. ]

Then does that leave me to use mine own magic to make Adonis stronger?

( Slowly, the metal cools, turns solid, and when it's safe to touch he let it come to rest by Anne's hand. His smile is still sad, he can't imagine it being anything else, but Anne did try to help him, and comfort him, and that means a great deal. )

One d-day I'll um, m-make you something that isn't a f-flower. ( He's just not at his most imaginative, right now.

The smile wavers a little. ) M-maybe. Or um, maybe I should j-just be Atlas all the t-time.

( Part a joke, and part a serious suggestion. Maybe he should just stop being anything outside his uniform.)

It is fine! Such wondrous beauty, and all for me.

[ She likes flowers, especially roses! So she isn't complaining. This is the kind of thing she can actually display... Which she does, after fawning over it a moment with her fingertips, leaning over to carefully set it just in the center of the coffee table. She might need to find a velvet cushion for it to make it proper, but for now it is fine enough. ]

Shall I call you Atlas instead, then?

Yep.

( It stings, in a way. In unintentional reminder of the bracelet he made Max, the charms that he'd shown Anne so long ago, and he draws the envelop carrying the bracelet out of his pocket, crumpled and worn through, looking at the bracelet inside before he drops it onto the bag. It was nice, that Anne liked what he made. It sucked that Max had been so sad. That art could make her that sad. )

Only w-with the uniform. ( A little serious. ) W-when I p-picked the name, I um. N-never thought about how Atlas is d-doomed. Atlas and Adonis. G-good work, huh?

[ She leans back from the table, near shoulder to shoulder with him again. No stop moping stop it now. ]

Apparently, I am told that history can be altered. Why not legend?

( Fair point, winning a slight smile, even as it fades before he drinks a little more of the coffee. )

You're right.

( He can concede that, even if the words are rasped out. It's more complicated, he thinks, but he doesn't really want to argue over something pointless, that would turn confusing with his struggle to articulate his ideas. )

[ She's back to wine, now. Anne likes her variety. ]

Why can you not use your magic on yourself when you are not in uniform? Mayhap become someone other than Adonis or Atlas.

Huh?

( Articulate, as ever. He takes a moment, rubbing his forehead. ) I'm-- m-my magic only is um, elemental. F-fire and uh, and earth. W-water, sometimes.

( A little. It's more dangerous for him to use than the others, but it's not the point. ) Atlas is-- l-like a symbol. When I have m-my uniform, I c-can, um. Forget I'm Donny C-Casey.

( He's not doing well at explaining this, so he scoops up the bag, standing carefully. ) M-may I um, g-get changed? Somewhere.

( She won't understand it before she sees it. )

[ She tilts her head at that, too curious to say no, and so she nods and stands, both hands resting demurely against her stomach as she waits for him to stand and follow. ]

If you so wish, you may use my apartment.

[ Because as much as she hates that idea, the idea of sending someone into the privy to change is horrible. She already hates that the bath is in there.

So she'll open up the door to her room and curtsy a touch while waving him in. It's a lot like one would expect an Anne Boleyn room to look like, if slightly barren of her normal glory. Funds are limited, after all, and selection on Exsilium even more-so. ]

( He might look slightly scandalised, but he also doesn't know how to say no to such an offer, so he'll nod and tag along. He really just meant he could change in the bathroom, but oh well. Being in someone's room is so personal.

Right then. At least when he changes it's quick - you have to get speedy at changing, in this line of work, and he strips away his clothes, dragging on his uniform. The matte black that makes up most of it, black boots and gloves, the red of the toga, the clip of the utility and then the gold of his armour, all meant to be fire and earth together, before he pulls on his mask. And then there's the part where he folds up his other clothes and neatly puts them in his bag, but when he straightens up, he's someone different. Taller, no more slouching - flawless posture, actually.

Also, those sure are some skintight clothes and lots of muscles, just saying. It's only a moment before he's easing the door open, not sure if Anne is waiting there, or will have returned to sit. )

[ She is remaining outside, because that's her bedchamber and she's definitely eavesdropping because you don't trust men. Period. But she's quick, and she'll move once it sounds like he's nearing the door again, standing several feet away, close to the living area, so he has space.

Well, she is used to men in tights, at least! So that's no big deal. Maybe they have more than a toga over that, but...the armor helps draw attention away, as well. It's not nearly as fancy as she would make, but then she does like extravagance.

The change in stance is immediately noticed by her, of course. It makes him seem a little taller, and of course the mask only adds mystery. ]

You stand taller than any titan could. It is as if I have attended a masquerada! Are we to have a party of our very own here, then? I fear I am dressed as nobody.

Edited 2013-09-21 06:06 (UTC)

( Even as Atlas, he can't cancel out the fact that he feels lost, miserable, but at least for Atlas it's easier to pretend. He musters up a grin, before bowing low - a reverence, as she had told him. Still, he doesn't speak, but inclines his head to the sitting room, offering his hand, palm down, as if this truly were some far more formal occasion. A little more playful, a lot more confident. His chest aches, but he has to be Atlas.

It's terrifying because she knows Adonis and she knows the truth of the transformation, but he almost doesn't care. Nothing matters so much. He's still so tempted to leave Adonis behind completely and be Atlas at all hours. )

[ It is strange to see him act so (all courtiers must smile through their pain, does she not do the same through her fear?), and pull it off well enough. She lets her hand rest over his, though just enough space to keep from physical touch, since he's playing it up so proper.

Teasing it as a masque is well and good, but his change in demeanor is unnerving. It only makes her a little more unsure and suspicious of his nature. He clearly can change, so why does he need the uniform?

Smile, smile...and then half-turn as they reach the living space. ]

Surely there must be somebody left that I can create a masque for. Phoebe is already taken, how sad. I would so love to shine like the moon.

( Perhaps it's for the best that she does not voice her concerns, her uncertainty. It would hurt beyond thinking to know that in trying to become Atlas, to be this better side of himself, he was making causing her discomfort. As it is, her suggestion makes him grin, and he reaches for the notebook in his utility - maybe this will make it less confusing. That Atlas does not speak, will not speak, so that all that weakness and uncertainty in his voice not longer matters.

He takes only a moment to jot down two possibilities, before he passes her the note. )

Tethys was the embodiment of the water, and that got to shine with the sun and the moon. Or there's Mnemosyne, the mother of the muses. I don't think I've met anyone here who appreciates the works of the muses the way you do.

( Sure, there's some teasing in it, but it's good natured, and he's only working with her comment of shining like the moon. )

[ Oh, right, Atlas doesn't talk. That may add to mystery, but it makes conversation a might one-sided...though writing helps. She looks at it curiously, her smile spreading with every word until it ends in a laugh. ]

Now, I am not certain what a mother I would make. Shall I be the water, then?

[ Reaching for the dark blue sofa blanket, she wraps it about her shoulders like a cloak and takes a turn to try to make it shimmer, though it works more effectively on her skirts and hair. ]

( Ah, well. He holds up his hands, a well, you know best sentiment to it, grinning as she grabs up the blanket, clapping his applause, although she is missing a mask. He ponders for a moment, before digging into his bag, drawing out a second mask - plain black material, just a simple back up. It's actually the one he uses for training, but it's freshly cleaned.

With a flourish, he returns to her and presents the mask, although the incline of his head is rather playful, still: will this do? )

[ Oh, well isn't that just perfect. She accepts it with a nod, observing that it ties like the one he has on, and so she holds it up to her face and then turns so that he can tie it for her. ]

( And he is happy to oblige, although he's just taking a second to try and work out how to tie this without messing up her hair. To his credit, he manages the task well, leaning around her to check and make sure it's comfortable, expression questioning even behind the mask. )

[ She spins rather suddenly when he peers around her, and face to face she grins, and reaches up to tease her fingertips just beneath his chin. She then lowers her head and dips down, nearly to her knees, arm remaining raised, and slowly straightens again. ]

Might I still dance this night?

Edited 2013-09-21 08:31 (UTC)

( oh, hello there. He bows, still not sure this is the right moment, but he can at least be respectful. Better too respectful than too little. And, another note: )

Might I have the pleasure of teaching you to waltz? Or have I been pre-empted?

( This is a Serious Question. He is ignoring that he had to learn to dance because Max wanted him to attend galas with her, that prickle of sharper unhappiness, because now he is Atlas. Atlas is better than that. )

[ Having to take time to watch him write and then read does still detract a bit, but she has already proven she can be patient. ]

Oh, the waltz! It is popular, then? The Lord Governor Kang did so show me, but then that is only to mean I will hopefully not bruise your toes.

( Nodding eagerly, Atlas offers her another smile, though he glances down-- clearly concerned for the fate of his feet. However, any noble man must overcome such things. Taking a second, Atlas offers her a hand squaring his shoulders - it wasn't really necessary - and is going to step closer, but holds her gaze, asking permission before he sets his hand at her back.

Another second skips past, and he realises that the no talking is going to make this tricky. It was easier when Atlas wasn't really social. ) I'm sure you c-can um, d-do this more elegantly than I d-did.

( Quiet. He could almost wince for the sound of his speech stumbling across Atlas, but at least he speaks a little better, though he looks ever so slightly sad for a moment before he brushes it off. This is fine. He spoke, but she already knew, and if they want to dance, then they can hardly use notes. ) M-may I?

[ She's startled to hear his voice again, and even more-so at his continued request for permission. He has his hands all over her (the waltz is a bit boring in steps to her, but the constant closeness is interesting), so aren't they already dancing?

Simply continuing to smile in turn, she nods and lets her hand rest against his shoulder. Of course, they don't have any music! And it's not like Anne owns a stereo.

To make up for it, she begins to hum, picking a slow French lullaby to accompany what she has seen to be a slow dance. If Anne can dance well, she can sing even better. ]

Edited 2013-09-21 08:55 (UTC)

( Having spoken as Atlas feels so cheap, after so long holding onto it, but Stephanie has heard Atlas speak, and Anne already knew the truth of what lay underneath, that uselessness beneath the mask.

Holding Anne carefully, Atlas is a strong lead, and as he becomes a little more sure of her familiarity with the basic steps, he starts to incorporate turns, seeing how well she follows. And it's nice when she hums, prompting a little grin from him, even if it looks more genuine than it feels. )

[ Considering he stuttered a little less, she would consider it an improvement. She hardly understands the importance of his silence... Doesn't it lose it's power when that's all there is?

Having much liked the turns with Kang, she twirls into them nicely, careful not to go too quickly. The pace makes it easy to hum, though of course it's occasionally interrupted with a few breaths. It doesn't take much exertion when you're wearing a corset. ]

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