(open + closed in tags)

[flashystyle]

Who: Dorian Pavus (flashystyle) & you!
When: The week post-attack
Where: The Institute & Olympian Streets
Warning(s): Very tired would-be scientist doing his best



I. The Institute

[The Institute's most prestigious scholars working tirelessly to produce a cure sounds very inspiring on paper. One might imagine careful, clean environments with all neatly organized ingredients across their work stations. They may even go on to say that their researchers must have the most capable, cleanest, well-manicured hands for the job.

This is not the case for Dorian, nor his work station. The laboratory may have started clean, but it's long since deteriorated into the space of a man who has been taking advantage of the 8am to 4am hours since all this bombing business began. Unlabeled bottles are littered across the counters with no indicators as to what they are any longer, books are left open on dog eared pages far too close to the former, and stray notes have been made ineligible by stains of Orbiters know what. There's ever a hole eaten through the counter that might indicate if one had drank whatever potion came before what's currently simmering, the wouldn't have just been silenced by a sore throat.

Whether it be depositing findings, coming for updates, or passing through as an employee or visitor, you've come through the open door to this mess of a station. The one responsible for it has a hand through his hair with the other nursing a bottle that he hasn't quite noticed it isn't his water yet. He doesn't look up from the brew when you enter, but he does raise his voice the second you step through the door.]

There must be hundreds of different species out in the wilds. Hundreds! And yet all of them are either poisonous, just aesthetically pleasing, or only serve to make people talk to one another! I don't mind the talk, truly, but what is the point if no one has the solution to this sickness? Words of encouragement that only make the pang of failure hit harder? I'm close to just combining all the sleeping agents and putting the patients down for a long rest, because that might be less excruciating than trying all of these. What do you think?

II. Streets

[For research purposes, Dorian has tasked himself with picking up an overabundance of Liln from a flowershop outside the Market District. With the bomb being an airborne flu, they seemed to have fled to the point of becoming pests in places free of the sick. One might notice they're carefully contained in a glass jar as Dorian makes his way through crowds of citizens gathered to gossip... up until he runs into someone.

That someone might be you, or it might be another unfortunate soul who simply wasn't looking where they were going. Regardless, the jar of the creatures slips through his fingers, shattering into pieces once it hits the pavement. The Liln scatter in fear of being trapped again, consequently latching onto any hosts in the the vicinity of the broken glass. Needless to say, due to the suddenness spread of a brightly colored creature, Olympians around also scatter lest it be another stage of sickness. Those that stick around will find that the Liln harmlessly slipped onto their skin, forming a tattoo potentially revealing of their mood in their panic. They will also find that they're now in the company of a very tired man.]

Those were to be our test subjects for a cure, you know. [He says, lines of a bright red snake curling around his neck.] Best hope those don't make an M.

III. Wildcard

[Dorian will be around the Institute, Sanctuary, and the Red Light District at night looking to hear the information of others who are out capturing/gathering intelligence. If you've an idea for their interaction outside of the prompts, feel free to tag with it! Or hit me up at meganerd for a closed prompt idea.]

Comments

[flashystyle]

There were attempts that weren't so one-sided, but... things happen, when your family is wrapped up in who you're fucking.

[He attempts a smile, but it doesn't quite reach the eyes when he lifts his gaze. His fingers curl in around Byverly's.]

It isn't anything to worry about here, so I apologize. Old habits, all that.

[vorrutyer]

[ He quirks an eyebrow and offers a little honesty in return for Dorian's. Seems only fair. ]

So much easier when your family doesn't give a damn. Being disowned and disgraced has such wonderful advantages, sometimes.

[ Byerly lifts Dorian's hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. ]

You didn't ever try that route?

[flashystyle]

I didn't have the time to try your luxuries, my friend.

[Byerly's terribly endearing yet again, it's awful. Dorian wouldn't be able to stop looking at him if he tried now, and he doesn't want to. The smile becomes much more soft- sincere.]

I suppose I do now. Care to show me those wonderful advantages?

[vorrutyer]

Am I worth breaking your pattern for?

[ His manner is warmly teasing, now, even if the subject matter perhaps doesn't exactly warrant teasing. I had to deny myself so utterly that I fled from one person to the next, like a fugitive - That's not something that ought to be joked about, perhaps. But Byerly remembers the disgust and loathing with which his father had looked at him, after he'd been caught in the woods with Piotr Vorfolse. He remembers his first love affair in the capital, with Kirill Vorpatril - he remembers not even being able to recognize the man's cruelty, so desperate was he for anything at all with a man that he couldn't even see that he was being mistreated. What other option is there, aside from laughing at it? The only other possibility is going mad. ]

You'll make me feel special, dear Dorian.

[ And he stands, tugging Dorian to his feet. ]

[flashystyle]

[Still, the teasing is miles better than the alternative. Eyes never meeting, touches impersonal, voices low and exits rushed, all of which were in the dark. Something so chaste as interlacing fingers or kissing knuckles is hardly something than anyone's tried away from prying eyes, let alone just feet away. If they did, they only became a hurt he carries with him.

He can't muster up the courage to do something so foreign in return, not here. But rather than detach himself or move his grip to somewhere less telling, he tightens the hold on his hand and starts pulling Byerly along. It wouldn't be fair to have him lead them off all the time.]

You are special. [Ah, that's a bit much.] A little insufferable, but I think you make up for it in being pretty.

[vorrutyer]

[ His smile broadens just a touch. ]

Well, where would the fun be if I were only ever agreeable? Sparks come from striking flint against steel, after all. And I know you do like a bit of heat.

[ But for all that talk of not being agreeable, By follows willingly. His voice is light, and his tone sounds cheerfully idle, when he asks: ]

So how many men have you known?

[flashystyle]

So long as it isn't enough to burn. We do have other things to do than distract each other, after all.

[He says, glancing over his shoulder with a frivolous smirk. If he were actually concerned about that, they wouldn't be here.]

That's a very broad question. I've known few men personally, and encountered... over half a dozen? Some of which for coin, mind you. Figures start to blur when you've made a habit of having one too many. And you?

[vorrutyer]

Heavens.

[ Byerly sighs, and makes a show of thinking - as though he didn't know full well he'd be receiving that question in return. ]

Dozens, easily. Some of which were for coin. [ With a little quirk of his eyebrow - though he watches Dorian closely, under his long eyelashes. Interested to see what sort of reaction this will earn him. ] Though I was not the one doing the paying.

[flashystyle]

[It's unexpected enough that he slows his walk, turning to look him over for some sign By was joking. He isn't, is he? It doesn't change anything between them, but.]

Truly? I don't doubt anyone would pay a great deal— I mean, I would, obviously... but why? Was it not... I don't know, demoralizing?

[vorrutyer]

I'm flattered.

[ His smile is wry. He still watches closely - but he's rather comforted by the fact that Dorian is surprised without being particularly horrified. ]

And, well, as I said - I was disinherited. Disinherited, without sympathetic relatives - with the exception of one cousin, who hadn't significant means of support herself - and nearly without skills. With a few very notable exceptions. [ A small shrug - ] None of us ever called it what it was, of course. They simply gave little gifts in recognition of our most charming nights. But.

Did the fellows you were with seem demoralized?

[flashystyle]

[Dorian doesn't really know how to react. He doesn't want to antagonize with misplaced sympathy, when clearly By's gotten by alright. It's one of those rare moments he holds his tongue, simply looking at him with lips parted but nothing to say up until his question.]

I suppose not. Perhaps it was short-sighted of me to assume it was all secretly unpleasant for them, but I... couldn't imagine being alright, stuck in that cycle.

[vorrutyer]

Well, it'd be the same thing if I hadn't been disinherited, really.

[ He casually waves the fingers of his free hand. ]

Marriage to some dowdy Vor lady with a large inheritance - I'd still be screwing for money, wouldn't I? Just on a longer term.

I am not the sort of person who finds that sort of work debasing. Better that than - say - bowing and scraping and kissing up to my vile relations.

[flashystyle]

Oh, dowdy is mild descriptor compared to who I had lined up. Hourglass figure, wicked tongue, knew me well enough to actually hurt my feelings. She was a gem.

[He stops now, at a crossroads between the direction of the Red Light and their housing.]

Better kissing handsome individuals than kissing up to those who'd see you ruined, I suppose. [He pauses, almost hesitant to ask a simple question.] ... Would you prefer I spend the coin for a place, or we use one of our own? Considering the walk after.

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly looks at Dorian. His eyes are keen and watchful. There is, after all, a level of...fraught emotionality inherent in using one's own home, rather than some place more neutral. And Dorian, who in spite of his confidence and beauty is relatively inexperienced, is the more vulnerable of the two of them. Still, his voice stays light when he says: ]

What would you prefer?

[flashystyle]

[His shoulders rise, and he prolongs meeting Byerly's eyes, but it isn't so terribly discomforting that he nearly draws in on himself again. Byerly's consideration has been more effort than most have made in years, and though it's gradual, Dorian's finding himself much more at ease than he'd thought he'd be. He won't allow room for doubt here- he'll even be damned if they aren't going to have a nice evening.]

I'd... prefer not to spend the coin, but my home isn't ideal. However, I won't subject you to having to use your own place, so if you wouldn't like to... I can bear to pay the fee.

[vorrutyer]

Well, you'll have to endure my housemates - imagine, me, a grown man, subjected to housemates!

[ And yet there's not even another word of spending the coin. Not a hesitation before Byerly starts setting off to where the poor downtrodden refugees have their housing. He will demonstrate to Dorian how altogether unashamed he is of being seen with him, damn it all. ]

Though they're charming in their way. There's Anora - imperious as anything, that one, I think one of these days she'll slap me across my face. And Max, who is charming, she has the loveliest eyes, but again, ferocious as a winter storm. And Prior. Have you met Prior? He's a wonderful fellow.

[flashystyle]

[It's really quite incredible how quickly the atmosphere has changed. Dorian smiles, and now only moments from when he was trying to stave off discomfort, he's starting to laugh.]

I can't say I have, though if he is a wonderful fellow I don't think I would mind doing so. Speak good things about me to him, will you? [He manages, after all the chuckling subsides.] Now, Anora is someone I know enough. If I'm not mistaken, she was queen of the the country I fled to. I met her in a bar and told her she wouldn't hold her liquor.

[vorrutyer]

Really? [ By blinks a moment, then decides - ] No, it doesn't surprise me you're from the same world. You seem to have similar...outlooks.

[ As he continues on - ]

But yes - Prior grew up in a situation that is not entirely dissimilar from yours. A man fancying men in a world not terribly friendly to that sort of thing. He's really quite sweet, though. Far more than you or I.

[flashystyle]

Perhaps I'll have to exchange your company for his, hm? He sounds like a much nicer fellow.

[He jokes. Or does he?]

Did you come to find that out through experience, or just a chat? A real chat.

[vorrutyer]

Ah. A real chat.

[ By gives a little shake of his head. ]

Prior and I truly are simply friends.

[flashystyle]

Not out corrupting as many youth as one might think, then. Your reputation is waning.

I'll stop by to meet him sometime, shall I? We'll have tea and talk about how attractive men are freely.

[vorrutyer]

Alas. I really should try to work on it. Ruining as much innocence as I can. Wrecking all decency, bringing down society...

[ He smiles easily. ]

But yes, you should. He's a good heart. We need more people here who have good hearts. Too few of them in this world. In all worlds.

[flashystyle]

If this world were filled with better men than most, we'd probably be getting by a lot easier.

[He returns the smile, lifting their hands to kiss By's knuckles.]

Even if some of them act as if they aren't.

[vorrutyer]

[ By reaches his thumb out to stroke the back of Dorian's hand. Though he asks, a little quizzically: ]

Act as if they aren't what...?

[flashystyle]

Act as if they aren't as good of heart as their friends.

[It's his turn to look at Byerly, eyes keen.]

I don't think we're that few of them, with those like you around. So until more good people arrive, we'll be alright.