A. T. Menelikov (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amourtician) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bigapplesauce2014-12-16 11:49 am
amourtician) wrote in bigapplesauce2014-12-16 11:49 am
when visions in the final end must shatter like the glass [open to multiple]
When Jay opens his eyes, he stares into a white wall. Around him is the noise of a city, though the rumble of automobiles is so much louder than he's used to, merging into a sort of feral buzz, a cross between angry bees and static. The noise of the crowd is interwoven into this hum, a hideous counternote. Jay shudders and tries to figure out what sort of wall he's staring at. He reaches out to touch it, then thinks better of it and instead turns around.
He's standing under a marble arch that stands at the entrance to a park. He stumbles back into the inner wall of the arch, suddenly feeling dizzy. It's the noise, the hideous noise that's tunnelling down his ears to his brain, making him feel like his whole head is vibrating. He screws his eyes shut and leans against the wall, shaking. He wants to throw up, but he's very aware that he's in public and he does not want to be unseemly.
He has no idea what's going on. It feels like he's lost some time, for he cannot remember the last thing he was doing, only the distant morning, breakfast with his twin. And now this. He shudders. He wonders, briefly, if he's hallucinating and the idea makes him moan in dismay.
To anyone who may be passing by, it appears as though a lavishly dressed, young, black person of absolutely indeterminable gender just popped into existence of nowhere. He's wearing a suit that looks like a New Romantic gone distinctly Regency, with a floor-length, pleated black skirt rather than trousers. A fur stole drapes around his shoulders; his hands are bedecked with rings, his face is painted brightly. He's wearing boots with pointy toes and high heels, elevating him to a height of 5'8", rather than his natural 5'5".
And he looks so very overwhelmed and sick.
He's standing under a marble arch that stands at the entrance to a park. He stumbles back into the inner wall of the arch, suddenly feeling dizzy. It's the noise, the hideous noise that's tunnelling down his ears to his brain, making him feel like his whole head is vibrating. He screws his eyes shut and leans against the wall, shaking. He wants to throw up, but he's very aware that he's in public and he does not want to be unseemly.
He has no idea what's going on. It feels like he's lost some time, for he cannot remember the last thing he was doing, only the distant morning, breakfast with his twin. And now this. He shudders. He wonders, briefly, if he's hallucinating and the idea makes him moan in dismay.
To anyone who may be passing by, it appears as though a lavishly dressed, young, black person of absolutely indeterminable gender just popped into existence of nowhere. He's wearing a suit that looks like a New Romantic gone distinctly Regency, with a floor-length, pleated black skirt rather than trousers. A fur stole drapes around his shoulders; his hands are bedecked with rings, his face is painted brightly. He's wearing boots with pointy toes and high heels, elevating him to a height of 5'8", rather than his natural 5'5".
And he looks so very overwhelmed and sick.
I exist
Daniel seems completely oblivious to any insinuations (as usual), but Seth has a sneaking suspicion he knows what the're smirking at. And he'd really rather not this conversation go there. Because they might not be right about Daniel, but they would be about Seth, and, well, this would be a really bad way to bring it up. And unbelievably embarrassing. Seth takes another drink.
But then, thank fuck, he is rescued from having to worry about it by Daniel deciding to show off his power. And... kind of overdoes it. Ah well.
existence!
"Wow," she says, already giggling. She covers her mouth and reels back in her chair, completely failing not to laugh out loud. "That's pretty neat, Daniel! And really." She slumps forward again, back onto her elbows, flipping her mood instantly back to mock-serious. "It's so important to have friends who can show you how to manifest a buttload of paperclips." She can't make it. By 'show you' she's cracking up again, burying her head in her arms. "Seth, you picked a real winner," she says, muffled.
i'm alive too
Regardless, trick or real magic, it doesn't seem terribly useful.
"Ah, I see, darling," he says. "Can you do ball-bearings? Or tacks? Those might put pursuers to some trouble, unlike, ah. Little flat things that aren't even pointy unless you put some effort into bending them."
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"Just office supplies. They don't last long, just kinda, uh, temporary manifests. I think."
In a motion that's just as unconcerned as it is ill-advised, Daniel drains his glass and immediately wishes he hadn't. That is a lot of alcohol hitting his system all at once.
"C'n do pens if I try real hard though," Daniel offers after a minute of concentrated blinking. What does Iman mean by a real winner? He looks at Seth in helpless puzzlement.
no subject
But, whatever. After the traumatic dreams of last night, and their rather heavy conversation earlier today, getting drunk seems like a good plan. More alcohol will hopefully also make this conversation and Iman's laughter feel a bit less uncomfortable, even if he isn't entirely sure why that's happening in the first place. Shame Seth doesn't have as low tolerance as Daniel.
"What can you do, then?" he asks, directing the question at both of them, to steer the conversation in a slightly different direction. And, well, because he's always curious about people's powers.
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no subject
"I'm, ah, a ... natural philosopher," he says, deciding it's a safe euphemism for what his actual profession had been. "And I'm somewhat skilled in magic, but ah. Most of it probably doesn't work here."
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"Mmhm. What - your universe, s'that pretty, uhm, pretty common?" Drunk or no, the anthropologist is always interested.
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"Mmm. Mos' of the powers here could probably be classified as magic. Jus'. Very specific, I suppose," he comments. His alcohol level is mostly apparently through his accent getting stronger. He's also a little glad he hasn't yet been asked the same question in return, as he doesn't completely trust a very drunken Daniel to remember that Seth's not all that open about his primary power, and usually defaults to sharing the phasing instead. Especially as Daniel's already mentioned that Seth was the one to help him with his own power.
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"And Don't be so sure your magic won't work here, I mean - there's a weird amount of co-existing... stuff." She waves a hand vaguely and takes another slug of campari. "Might take some time to figure out your new parameters."
She drops her chin into her hand and looks at the two goobers sitting across the table. These two, seriously. All slurring and awkward and soooo obviously not looking at each other. Wow.
She's pretty sure she means to ask Seth what his rift power is, but what in fact comes out is, "Have you two ever considered just like, making out?"
no subject
"Is there something wrong with alchemy, darling?" he says, trying to keep his tone mild. He's not personally offended - yet - but he's bristling a little. It's the drink and his natural orneriness finally showing through. He's been oddly friendly to Iman since meeting her, mostly because he's been too shocked to remember to distrust and dislike everyone he lays eyes on, but some of the shock seems to be wearing off now.
And if it turns out she's badmouthing alchemy, the quills might rise up properly.
But then he's distracted from that line of thought by what Iman says next. He bursts into nervous giggles.
"Iman!" he says, grinning. "You can't just say things like that, darling! You have to be more subtle. It's more fun that way."
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That entire train of thought abruptly shatters upon contact with Iman Asadi. His head drops to one side in complete befuddlement, jaw slack as Jay only offers delighted encouragement.
His head swivels over to look at Seth.
"Why would we do that, though?" he asks in the very serious tone of someone who's now questioning whether making out is some vital social cue he's somehow missed, and could Seth please explain this to him? This has gotten rather confusing.
no subject
Seth, however, is not so lucky. And perhaps shouldn't be that grateful for the alcohol, considering he chokes a little bit on it at Iman's question. But at least it's doing a little bit to numb the feeling of wanting to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment. Is he that obvious? Given Jay's reaction, he kind of feels like the answer is yes. The redness in his cheek and ears right now definitely has more reasons than just his intoxication.
If he were to answer Iman, his reply would be yes, yes he has considered it, at length and in great detail. If he were to answer Daniel, his reply would be something along the lines of, well, because Daniel's gorgeous and incredible and it would be awesome. But no, he is not going to say either of those things.
He's not sure he's sober enough to actually come up with anything else though. Like joking it away or making some snappy comeback. He's never been good at that sort of thing - profoundly awkward as he is, occasionally hiding it behind a layer of callousness, which isn't really going to serve him here. As much as he doesn't want to admit his interest, he doesn't want to condemn the idea either. So instead he's going to gape for a few moments, looking between Daniel and Iman in poorly concealed alarm.
"I, uh, I dunno," he answers weakly, which could be an answer to either, really. Pitiful. He's really tempted to run away from this conversation. "I don't, uh, exactly make a habit of doing that with my friends." ...Johnny doesn't count. For some reason he'll have to come up with when he's sober.