beneath the stars came falling on our heads

[bumbles]

Date & Time: throughout September.
Location: various.
Characters: Donny Casey/Atlas and assorted unfortunate souls.
Summary: Going to be throwing individuals starters in, but slam me a pm or grab me on plurk if you would like a thread sometime during the month! c:
Warnings: I will add these as necessary!

( Donny's actually feeling pretty good about this month.


But we all know that's going to go up in flames so let's prepare the popcorn. And here is a sly link to his appearance page in case you need to know what Atlas' uniform is like, ohoho. )

Comments

[ensorceler]

[ But too much of the light is gone in this case, for the smile she offers him in turn is encouraging but not gleeful as before. ]

What if I should need one midst the night?

[bumbles]

Then I'll m-make sure, um, n-no one sees me?

( Playful, teasing, but at the same time, acknowledging that he has no idea what actually would be the right thing to say, mustering a bit of a grin.

The loss of that earlier brightness stings, but he remains steady. Don't falter. Not now. )

[ensorceler]

[ His response actually surprises her, enough to draw more of a smile before she turns away to carry the treats back into the kitchen, calling out lightly in return. ]

Then I best close my eyes and play at sleep for long as I may, so that the gentle warmth of knowing will yet guide me to dreaming and pleasing.

[bumbles]

( He tags along, not leaning against the doorframe the way that Donny might, still holding himself tall. Even through all this, his movements are steadier, more certain, more deliberate.

All the knee-jerk reactions of horror that are tied to dreams are pressed down. Don't push her into the cold. ) So you d-don't want to see m-me after all? ( Pouting, just a little, slipping into mock reproach. ) C-closing your eyes to ignore m-me?

( So cold, Anne. )

[ensorceler]

[ Donny what are you doing... She's not supposed to be watched cleaning up! That ruins the effect. Although, granted, she's kind of saving the dishes for tomorrow and just wrapping the food up.

No throwing food away here, that's for certain. She thinks on these differences often, even through her easy smiles and less easy laughs. ]

Nay, for should I see you, I must name you. And I am still but a maid.

[bumbles]

R-right.

( Okay, got it. That makes sense? He mulls that over, and then with great dignity, lays a hand over his eyes. )

So n-now I uh, c-can't see you, my v-- v-virtue is fine?

( If in doubt, be playful and ridiculous, no matter how bad you feel. That was Atlas' talent. He was just voicing it out loud, now. )

[ensorceler]

[ That ought to be Anne's own motto, for truth. Although sometimes, when in doubt, react in paranoia. This is also quite valid. This is not that, though, and instead opts for ridiculous. But not overly so, as tender as he still is to the thorn's of love's rose.

With one small piece of sugared chocolate salvaged, Anne soon moves close enough so that she can reach to let it hover close to his mouth, letting Donny become aware of her closeness; to know it and feel it and of course there is no denying the scent of chocolate.

Very carefully, coaxing more than coercing, she teases the piece of chocolate at his lips with her other hand hovering just hover his heart. He does so love his chocolate. ]

For it is a kind dream, of pleasing and having.

[bumbles]

( Hello there. He is a big fan of chocolate, and the quirk of his mouth isn't at all staged.

Carefully, Donny-- Atlas? Atlas. Atlas grabs the chocolate with his teeth, goes to ease it from her hold. )

For t-true.

( Okay maybe he kind of likes the way she talks. It's so fancy. His own voice is soft, and her hand reminds him of the ache in his chest, though he might seem delighted enough by the chocolate. His hand stays over his eyes. )

[ensorceler]

[ She holds it firm, letting him nip off a bite, before quickly drawing it to her own lips. She takes a bite, though it's purely ceremonial, before lifting it once more to return from her lips to his.

Her voice is a murmur. ]

When you cannot see, then your knowing becomes all-encompassing. For anything is possible. Everything is more beautiful... For what you cannot see, the pain is a bittersweet yearning, but you are permitted taste, and for this you are only allowed delight.

Is it not transformed?

[bumbles]

( Chewing slowly, Atlas keeps his face tilted towards her even with his eyes closed, expression serious and curious together, intrigued by this entire process, by Anne. By the way she thinks and does things, and for a few moments, it is a genuine distraction. (It will occur to him later that she's basically giving him comfort food, but that's not really the point right now.)

It takes him a moment to slow, but he does nod. And he still doesn't uncover his eyes. ) M-maybe I should w-wear a b-blindfold, instead of a uh, a m-mask.

( And, more quietly, ) It is. Like, um. It's the m-most important thing.

( In that second, anyway. That's romanticising it, but that's sort of what he does, and he-- he thinks it's poetic, the idea, beautiful. He likes it. )

[ensorceler]

[ She likes it too, and her fingernails lightly tap his lower lip in parting to show her pleasure at his attempt. He does so well, when he simply allows him moments. That's all anybody can expect with happiness... Moments.

It never lasts, she knows this. ]

Ah, then you would be a new man, a new vigilante. One only for me, for Tethys. You need not see, you need only taste and touch and smell and hear. [ And if he's able to have chocolate again and not think of her, best cut off her head now and be done with it. ] The sweet, the salt. The whispering, rushing sound of her currents as she guides you to safety and rest.

[ Both hands pull away, linking behind her, though she is still close, even as she begins to edge around him. Behind him, she leans up on her tiptoes to let her whispers touch his ear. ]

The water is cleansing; baptizing. To borne you anew I dare not name you yet, but your sight I cannot relinquish for you are not ready for the secrets of the deep.

[bumbles]

( Well, he's really never going to be able to think of chocolate or... bodies of water in the same way ever again. Donny turns his head a little, following her presence, though he doesn't move. His eyes are shut, hand still over them, though the other moves, lightly touching her forearm before it falls away.

It takes him a moment to speak. He's not entirely sure if the words are playful this time, or not, and he misses Max, he misses her more than he has words for, but she doesn't want him, in this second it's nice to be playing a ridiculous game, even if he and Anne both know he's a mess, that he has to hide behind masks and names and now, apparently, darkness as well.

It's nice to think about the possibility that he could be someone new, that everything could be washed away. ) Is this you p-possessing me?

( Because this is a very surreal experience. )

[ensorceler]

[ She might chuckle, but there's no answer after that, her whispers fading away just as her steps do, slow and light, until she's gone from the kitchen and sound is truly muffled. Even the way she shuts her door seems to be practiced, as it offers near no sound.

He's been left alone in the kitchen with his chocolate and coffee, and he'll find left alone in the apartment itself. The navy blue blanket she had worn in the kitchen has been draped back over the couch in passing, a continued open invitation should he wish it. But for the night, at least, he has truly been denied sight, because she won't return from her room. ]

[bumbles]

( Anne Boleyn is a truly fascinating person. As she draws away, Donny lets his hand fall away from his eyes, taking a moment and finally leaning against the door frame. What exactly happened this evening?

He really has no idea. What he does know is that he probably shouldn't sleep on her sofa in Atlas' uniform, although he doesn't want to offend her by leaving after she offered, after he managed to offend her in so many different ways already. He retreats to the bathroom, changes, and returns to grab up his coffee and chocolate. Instead of sleeping - he never sleeps well, honestly - he wraps the blanket around his shoulders and fishes his sketchbook from his bag, lets the pencil find its path over the paper.

When he's finished, he slips the drawing under Anne's door - Anne as Tethys, ruling over the water, reflecting the Sun and the moon, dancing with waterlilies in her hair. )