[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

[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.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, is that so? Donning a gown for the evening? [ He cocks an eyebrow speculatively, then - grinning - shakes his head. ] No, no, Dono's case was a special situation. Strapped on a cock for the purpose of a political coup. Dear fellow - I mourn the loss of my cousin Donna - her company, and saucy commentary upon the eligibility of some of the Vor fellows, is sorely missed - but Count Dono is a true joy in my life.

[priorly]

[Byerly, this can hardly be a surprise. But no gowns here to don, alas.]

How far into the future will we have to go, I wonder, before politics is no longer full of cocks. But why can't the count comment on eligible men as easily as the countess? Please tell me men's souls aren't really located between their thighs.

[vorrutyer]

Hah. No. At least not to my knowledge. But dear Dono did not want to...hmm...throw anything into doubt with regards to his virility. His right to the Countship hinged not only on the cock but also the ability to convince others of the reality of that cock. So while Donna was so enchantingly flexible with her preferences, Dono has become quite cruelly heterosexual.

[priorly]

[Sigh] Straight people spoil all the good stories. For a moment it all sounded so progressive. [Byerly's freed from scrutiny: it was a good story, either way.] Though anyone who believes men who fuck men can't be virile has clearly never checked out a midtown gym on leg day.

[vorrutyer]

[ A fluid shrug. ]

I find that reality very rarely has the power to alter preconceived notions. Our former Prime Minister is the most hulking, growling specimen of military man you'll ever find, and he fucked my uncle all over Vorbarr Sultana before having his wife murder the fellow. And yet there's still this belief that homosexuality means effeminacy.