[open] channeling angels in a new age, now.

[priorly]

Who: Prior Walter (priorly) & you??
What: Catch all logs for October!
When: October!
Where: various
Warning(s): language, likely mention of terminal illness (AIDS). Adult themes?
Notes: Please PM me if you'd like a starter, or feel free to wildcard me anytime.

Comments

[priorly]

[A little victory: Prior beams at the slap before attempting to revert to innocence. Though, genuinely-]

I could be, I suppose. It sounds intriguing. What is it?

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly gives a little huff, trying to return to his prior illusion of debonair, suave confidence. Squeaking when you're poked is decidedly un-suave. ]

What's karaoke? Do you Terrans not have that? I don't know whether to envy or pity you. It's grand - you drink to the point of self-confidence, cram into a booth with your fellows, and sing off-key. While drinking more. A license for bad behavior and shameless preening.

[priorly]

[Squeaking when poked is refreshingly human, just a little endearing, and Prior only looks more pleased about it as Byerly tries to unruffle his feathers.]

If we do, then nobody has yet told me. Though it sounds not unlike a hundred house parties I've been to - I'd go. [Lets never pretend that parties and preening are things to endure rather than embrace - though his social life has involved both less social and less life for some time.] But I mean nothing so organized. I just mean singing, Byerly. Don't you ever sing just because?

[vorrutyer]

Well, certainly.

[ A little shrug. ]

Usually when drunk. Though I doubt you'd know the songs I generally end up singing. La Belle Dame of House Vorrutyer probably isn't in your repertoire, nor Dendarii Leaves, nor Kalinka...

[priorly]

[There. Prior pins a finger on the one he knows.]

Kalinka when drunk would be an impressive thing. But didn't any popular culture survive? No troubles melting like lemon drops or it took all the strength I had not to fall apart? Don't tell me your world not only dislikes my people but my anthems, too.

[vorrutyer]

[ A small shrug. ]

Deepest sympathies, Prior. Doesn't ring a bell.

[priorly]

O cruel future, with no torch songs in't. [He exhales dramatically, hand clutching at his face, lost - lost] I need a moment with my grief.

[vorrutyer]

I have a bottle of whiskey in that drawer over there, if you need it.

[priorly]

And a pistol, I hope. [The combination would seem traditional, particularly now he's aware he's effectively sharing a bed with the space-age KGB. His chest rises and falls through two wracked breaths before dropping the effort. A sidelong glance.] Know that if you mock this, you mock my very queen.

[And, softly, with respect to the fact that there is likely a real queen asleep next door, but with a trace of performance he can't turn off-]

Some day I'll wish upon a star, and wake up where the clouds are far behind me-

[vorrutyer]

[ He doesn't mock, though. Instead, he props his chin up on his fist, smiling faintly as he listens. ]

[priorly]

[Just a verse and a chorus, and he's faintly breathless at that, but smiling. Even knowing it's just a silly song, stripped of context.]

Ah - I can't get the high note without a warm up anymore. Not enough lung capacity.

[vorrutyer]

[ By smiles at him. ]

It was still lovely, dear Prior.

[priorly]

[It was what it was. It feels strangely lonely to think no one else here might love it the same way he does. Culture is something that should be shared.]

I'll expect Kalinka, next time you open the whiskey.

[vorrutyer]

[ He smiles as he settles back down into bed. ] Oh, one can't sing Kalinka on one's own. I'll want you to join me.

[priorly]

I don't have the heritage for it, it'd be all Kalinka- da da da- from me, I'm afraid. Slapdash and quite probably offensive.

[vorrutyer]

Ah, yes. And as a mad Russian, I'd have to kill you for it.

[priorly]

No doubt twirling your mustache all the time.

[vorrutyer]

Why do you think I grew one in the first place?

[priorly]

To fit in somewhere terribly nefarious, of course. [Silly small talk. Prior traces a finger across Byerly's lip, stretching and curling in against him again like an oversized cat.] Where I'm from it would be... somewhat last decade. People still sport them, though. The pretty eyes my imagination built you from could well have sat alongside a handlebar.

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly gently seizes Prior's fingertip between his teeth, gives a little tug, and then releases it. ]

Perhaps so, yes. Where I'm from, beards and moustaches are only just beginning to come into fashion. Thanks to my cousin Dono, you know. He burst upon the social scene with that beard of his, handsome as the day is long, making ladies swoon, and everyone decided they wanted to imitate him.

[priorly]

[Prior doesn't nothing to hide that little shiver.]

Of course thanks to your cousin. I'd be disappointed if it were even once removed. Does he look like you?

[vorrutyer]

Rather ironically, he looked more like me back when he was a woman. Now that he's a man, he's all broad and muscly. Quite ruins the resemblance.

[ Byerly grins, very slightly, in hopeful anticipation of Prior's surprise over that revelation. ]

[priorly]

[He shouldn't be disappointed. Prior stays precisely where he is for - oh, a few seconds - as this new piece of information percolates down. Then almost without moving at all he's somehow lightly pinning Byerly to the bed, peering down into his face like he can read it.]

When he was a woman? Well, you've been remarkably slow in sharing that little quirk in our evolutionary development. Does that make you the caterpillar or the butterfly?

[A curl of his lips before he adds-]

If it's a path they chose themselves, I do hope you'll tell me they opted for the tentacle.

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly, laughing up at Prior - ]

Just a regular cock, sadly. I've seen it myself. I did say to him he ought to have gone for something a little spicier and more exciting, as long as he was spending the money on the Betan surgery, but no, he opted for the tragically conventional.

[priorly]

Hm, surgery. [As expected but Prior offers a haughty little sniff anyway.] Then this is your final form? Not disappointing as such but those eyelashes are a terrible waste. Though.... perhaps wasting some other parts would be worse. I've always favored more superficial transformation, myself.