(no subject)

[velocette]

[As usual, he's smoking. And it's not unusual that he's staring at the smoke like he's been hypnotized, but he's smiling more than he has in the years he's been on board.]

You know, I've been so fixated on these things for so many years. On cigarettes, I mean, Kools if I could get them--and it's funny that these are the greyest thing in my life. The single thing that lacks color now. I sort of expected the smoke to be blue...or pink.

I actually stopped seeing color when I was four. I think that was when I stopped believing in God, Santa, and the American Dream. I assumed for a long time that everyone went colorblind (literally, figuratively, whichever) when they got old enough to be cynical. But I came here and I met a real muse, and I've realized that I was mostly wrong.

I wonder what the rest of you lost when you stopped being kids? I don't expect many of you will answer, since most of you are understandably very sensitive about your pasts, but it's a real question. What did you lose when you grew up?

Comments

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She looks back at him, eyes on his, and a small smile forms on her face at his words. Plenty of men have fought for her before, but only when she was other women. Never when she was Bleu.

It almost makes her wish the Colorman was here.]

I do. And I hope you never meet them.

[She drops her gaze with a laugh.]

That depends whose pleasure you mean.

[spam]

[velocette]

[He honestly hopes he never does, too; and that she's done with them, that if they do visit her it will only be in the warped realities that the Barge sometimes throws at them.

He grins slowly, tucks her hair behind her ear]

I'm very curious about yours. My pleasure is still so new, I think, compared to everything that I could know.

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She holds the same hope, that when she goes back the Colorman won't regain his power over her. It would be different with Piper.

She turns her head to kiss his fingers, then takes his hand.]

We could learn together.

[spam]

[velocette]

[He pulls her a little closer with a hand on her waist]

I want everything you'll teach me.

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She smiles and tilts her head up to kiss him again, holding his hand to her face.]

Then what are we doing here?

[spam]

[velocette]

[He grins, steps them back a bit]

Name the place.

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

Yours.

Re: [spam]

[velocette]

[He puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her as quick and quiet and excited as if they're running through the rain after a long night on the town. He locks his door behind them, which he almost never does (hardly anyone visits anyway).

It's a tiny room really, a mattress on the floor and a little reading nook in the corner. He's begun to fill up the walls with practice paintings he's done with Steve Rogers (and in face one of them is of Steve's uniform). A few of them are impressionist versions of the people on the Barge, or of rivers.

But mostly right now he's watching her.]

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She follows, trying not to laugh as they move down the halls, tempted to grab him and kiss him again. But they have time, and she wants to use it.

Bleu steps back as he locks the door, drinking in the sight of the room, his work, the little home he's made, the slices of fantasy he's chosen to add. She smiles, straight from her core.]

If I didn't know any better, I'd say an artist lives here.

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[velocette]

And what do you make of artists?

[He leans against the desk, pulls her to him]

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She pulls into him happily, wrapping her arms around his waist and nudging her nose against his.]

I make them legends.

Re: [spam]

[velocette]

[He chuckles, steals a kiss]

Legends always seem to die young.

[Himself, for example, and all those he grew up hearing about. He has theories about why but if anyone would know...]

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She fudges the timing and ends up smiling into the kiss, apologetically this time.]

There's a price for greatness.

[spam]

[velocette]

[He smiles, sad but willing. Excited, even. Greatness is a hard thing to turn down, at least around here. Back home he would have been glad to die in obscurity.]

What do you think mine is going to be?

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[She pulls away a little, quietly laughing, before she turns those so-very-blue eyes to his.]

There are two options. [She sounds somber now and kisses his cheek, any way to lighten the mood is better than none.] Do you know the story of Icarus? You would rise to a new peak and you might fall hard.

Or-- [She glances away for a split second] you can stay with me.

[spam]

[velocette]

[His fingertips touch her jaw, just to anchor attention] I'd rather be wiser than Icarus. If he'd had you maybe he wouldn't have been so obsessed with wax and feathers.

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

He was flying from a cage too.

[She looks back at him, his eyes, his face, his hand on her jaw.] It'll be easier without me. You know that, don't you.

[spam]

[velocette]

No. I don't think it will be.

There was nothing- nothing bearable left, back home. And this place is different. I could live here. I could be happy. But...there's a difference, between happiness and joy. [He looks at her steadily]

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

But it won't always be joy. [It's hard to hold his gaze as she says it.] It'll be joy and pain and despair and envy and anger and ecstasy.

It'll hurt. That's the price.

Re: [spam]

[velocette]

[He thinks about that. It's a daunting prospect and it deserves serious reflection. But his answer, in the end, is the same.]

I would rather plumb the depths of all human experience, even if the pain swallows me whole, than paddle in the shallows the rest of my life, trying to tell myself that it's enough.

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

You said you didn't like oceans. [Her half-smile is wistful.]

If you stay with me, you'll be swept under. You just won't die this time.

Re: [spam]

[velocette]

Maybe that's because I've only ever seen the surface.

[There are times already he feels the pull of her, something indescribable that takes him steadily further from everything he's had.]

And what will it be like for you?

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

It'll be new.

I've never been with someone like you.

Re: [spam]

[velocette]

...Never?

[She's known some of the most remarkable people in history.]

[spam]

[rhapsody_in]

[There are all sorts of remarkable people. She can see the aptitude earlier than most can, even the person in question, and Piper's remarkability is a very rare sort.]

I don't meet men like you every ten millennia.