wading in waist high water // ransom + dio blitz

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wading in waist high water // ransom + dio blitz Jan 2, 2022 5:23:29 GMT -5

Post by fox on Jan 2, 2022 5:23:29 GMT -5

D I O N Y S U S

A knife bounces off the fence in the backyard and nearly takes someone out, but I guess that's the beauty of life. The next person goes, beer bottles lined up on the other side, but he misses and the blade lodges itself into wood. Hm, how interesting.

When I think of Hades, I want to die.

I drink, it washes away – like the tide overtaking a glass bottle, swallowing it whole. And dad had us learn that wine can taste like gardens, flowers and fruits, the sweetness of a summer morning. But in the garden of this party, there's only bitterness from a six dollar bottle.

Why do I feel like this.

I drink, watch people make out and throw up, and nothing can shake the feeling of mortality now shaking me. Althaea's on speed; she's talking my ear off, the words falling over each other and then after me when I tell her "I'm going to get another drink."

And I don't. I go to the boy I've been watching, go towards distractions and pleasures. He's pretty. Just pretty – not in the strange, soul-moving death way. Not like Hades.

He's in the line to throw a knife, a betting pool on the table before us, and I empty my pockets, throw another hundred or two on the pile to join in.

Turning to him, grinning, my hand is on his shoulder –

"Hey, do I know you?" I ask, "And if I don’t, can we get to know each other?"

NOW WE'RE KNEE DEEP IN THIS MESS.

Last Edit: Jan 2, 2022 5:23:44 GMT -5 by fox

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wading in waist high water // ransom + dio blitz Jan 2, 2022 11:46:28 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Jan 2, 2022 11:46:28 GMT -5

R A N S O M
V O C L A I N

Give some careers a shit ton of alcohol and that's how shit like this party happens.

There's alcohol being passed out as if it's going out of business. The taste of some mixed conglomerate that a pretty girl who was way past the point of return gave him was stuck in the back of his throat. The hazy fun feeling of alcohol letting him feel looser than before. All parties were fun, no matter what anyone else said. His eyes watch one of the kids go pick up a knife, tossing it once at the fence, almost taking someone out. The snort comes before he even gets the chance to make a comment.

The betting pool's there as he tosses a crumbled bill; not caring that it's only a five. The pot was hot and he wanted to show these chumps how it really was. Ransom was better than most of Four. Made it to top eight in all three of the career districts after all. A proud accomplishment, but he takes swig of the strange liquid in his hand, feeling something wash over him before he watches someone else come up. His eyes watch the pretty boy toss a few hundred into the pot as he smiles with that toothy grin of his.

The guy's pretty, prettier than most. There's a softness there that he can't quite understand, but he lets the stranger place his hand on his shoulder. Ransom leans in more, lets the warmth come through as he hopes the pretty boy can feel his own body heat in the closeness. "Hey, do I know you?" Ransom smiles back, wide and soaks in the other boy. "And if I don’t, can we get to know each other?" A small laugh leaves his lips as he leans in close, just a whisper.

"You'll know me soon enough." The alcohol tastes of poison, but he sips from it once more. Eyes watching the other boy before he continues. "What's brought a guy like you here to me?"

Last Edit: Jan 2, 2022 11:46:40 GMT -5 by Tom

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wading in waist high water // ransom + dio blitz Jan 2, 2022 16:00:41 GMT -5

Post by fox on Jan 2, 2022 16:00:41 GMT -5

D I O N Y S U S

He leans in close, like a little sun, and the warmth of his body is gravity.

What a smile.

So many nights I've spent running down the streets at night, out towards the west and screaming on the open roads. Nights of lying on the warm beach, imagining the ghost of a touch, the sand bathing my skin. Nights of sitting in the garden, under moonlight and the shade of a person that isn’t mine.

I think I'm tired of spending the aftermath of a party alone –

His face registers finally through the thin haze of a few drinks and I do know his name, his features a little sweeter now than when it was on television. Our father never desired us to become fighters but businessmen and diplomats. He raised us for the wineries, for an eye for detail and a taste for luxury, for the fine art of life and the beauty of every gesture.

But we still watched the games, the tournaments, watched for whoever he wanted us to be friendly with.

The line moves forwards, a bottle smashes to cheers and laughs, and the next person goes.

"Obviously I just wanted to see your knife skills," and I take his hands, turning over his palms into mine, looking into his eyes, "Ransom Voclain. Wanna wager how well you can do with these hands? What would you want for hitting all those bottles?"

NOW WE'RE KNEE DEEP IN THIS MESS.

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wading in waist high water // ransom + dio blitz Jan 3, 2022 20:54:28 GMT -5

Post by Tom on Jan 3, 2022 20:54:28 GMT -5

R A N S O M
V O C L A I N

He shines like the moon; bright and glowing in the empty voice of life.

Pretty. That's all his brain can come up with.

Life was good for him. Days spent training and proving himself as the strongest, the biggest, and the baddest. A life full of never-ending freedom, an empty home always to himself, and the sweet bliss of pleasures all to himself. And now, he's found himself here, with a cup of some alcohol that smells too strong, a pretty boy who's in his space, and knives hitting a fence nearby. The best ways to spend his evenings for sure, but he knew how to make it so much better.

The line moves forward with a careful step as bottles smash nearby. There's cheers and someone is clanging beer bottles together. His eyes only stay on this boy in front of him. There's no recognition, but he didn't need to recognize anyone. The hand on his shoulder is soft, clearly from care, and he leans into the feeling of warmth between them. Desperate to let himself fade into it. Until smile keeps himself steady, a moment of a pause before this pretty boy speaks up.

"Obviously I just wanted to see your knife skills," Ransom's hand is moved towards this pretty boy, wrapping gently around the other's palm. His thumb brushing calmly as he breaths softly. "Ransom Voclain. Wanna wager how well you can do with these hands? What would you want for hitting all those bottles?" There was so much he could do with those hands. He could go on and on for days, but he wouldn't. Instead he smiles, lets the smile bleed into a smirk, holding the hand before him until he speaks with mischief.

"These all-panemite hands could do a lot of things. I'd love to show you what all they can do." A smirk on his lips as he looks the pretty boy in front of him up and down, until he stop at his lips. "When I hit all the bottles, I want to see you in my room. Just for me." His thumb rubs slightly against the pretty boy's hand. He's leaning forward, just a breath away. The air growing intense as he drops his own hand, reaching towards pretty boy, until he put his drink down behind him.

Soon. The moon will shine over him.

He'll burn as bright as the stars.

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fox
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but a butt ?

wading in waist high water // ransom + dio blitz Jan 8, 2022 18:38:55 GMT -5

Post by fox on Jan 8, 2022 18:38:55 GMT -5

D I O N Y S U S

His thumb brushes over my knuckles, leans so close, and there's the way his eyelashes cast shadows, a coil of loose hair falling over his eyes. He broke bones, spilled blood, and existed like a force of nature. And what did the poets say of nature – nature, now dark, now glittering, unfathomable depths and unearthly forms, and that wilderness of him is so beautiful.+

"When I hit all the bottles, I want to see you in my room. Just for me."

Funny trick – the way he lights a match under my pulse.

He begins to pull back, the drink in his hands now set on the table behind me. I've kissed so many people, all those other little distractions and pleasures at parties like this, and it's become a commodity, with the boys who lose interest where there is nothing to gain, the boys who desire only power. It's become predictable, the way I feel, the way we meet and never again, so boring boring boring –

But I haven't even said my name here yet.

"Hold on." The space narrows between us, and my hand is on the nape of his neck. I close my eyes, and I kiss him. And his lips are softer than I thought, skin warm and flushed with alcohol.

Ransom – pretty boy that tastes of the coming of a storm.

We move apart. I smile, take his drink from the table, raising the cup, "A kiss for good luck," and down it. The line forges ahead before us. I guess there's no certainty in this world but the desire of careers to hit shit with a knife.

When we reach the front, there's shattered glass shining in between the grass, a new line of bottles on the table, and a girl walks back from collecting the knives lodged in the fence, replenishing the pile.

"Hey, it's your turn now." Grinning, and I bow, gesturing towards the knives like they're a piece of art to behold. "Show me what you've got, and I'm yours."

+ref to mont blanc by percy shelley

& I LOVE YOU SO VIOLENT.

Last Edit: Jan 8, 2022 18:42:27 GMT -5 by fox