"But Make It Tasteful!" [Saturn & Damaris Day 1]
Feb 28, 2019 18:25:54 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2019 18:25:54 GMT -5
Saturn Rhodon
[Continued from Where Did Your Spine Go? – Damaris & Saturn use Endurance]
I’ve always preferred girls, I guess. The words escape from her lips as most truth does, buried too long and left to crumble. He thinks for a minute on being a shut-in, and never leaving home because of sadness. He almost stumbles over a set of holes because he’s straining his temples to just envision what it would have meant to lock himself away. They are two separate hearts, then – hers beating heavy to contain what she feels inside, controlled, and his rapid and untamed, destined to burst before it ever would settle. He sees the darkness under a hot sun; his eyes staring out across an empty bed toward a mirror, seeing himself, feeling empty. He’s ashamed, then, with how he can see himself and the imperfections, the mistake that he had made but couldn’t erase.
“The world has a strange sense of humor putting us together,” He says at last, and then says nothing at all. He takes slow and ambling steps toward the green in the distance. His heavy boots crunch through the cracked dirt at his feet.
He lets the silence creep in to make space between them. It’s a distance he’s used to having with men that settle too deeply underneath his skin. Moments when he can feel the chill run down his spine when there’s more to be known but they haven’t earned just yet, he says nothing at all. Let them fill the space, or reclaim your own power in silence. But Damaris is not a man, not even a girl that took any interest in a boy like Saturn. What was he to do when, knowing that she was looking back at him, she saw him and only him, paid full attention to his words and feelings, as though she could understand his personhood over his presentation?
Another quiet beeping fills the air, and as they press through the first stalks of tall grass, Saturn snatches a white parachuted box out of the sky. He flicks it open and finds a camera – not quite so useful, except, he wonders, well – perhaps to let someone know I’m still alive. He treads carefully along the grasses, taller than even he, and coarse to the touch. Berlin comes to mind first, if only because the smell of the grass reminds him of the boy atop the wrestling mats. They’d sparred and fallen over each other, and gone between sheets as well (physically impressive, if a little too firm for his taste). Stanley was true enough – he couldn’t get the boy out of his mind since the moment he’d pressed his fingers into his back, even if the frightened thing had hurried away (probably just afraid of what he’d have to handle had they’d gone any further). And then Exover –
He stares at Damaris in front of him and slowly starts to peel off each of his clothes. First the vest, then the boots, until soon he’s scattered them neatly into a little pile next to his plush unicorn backpack. Clad only in his birthday suit he whistles ahead to Damaris, and waves the camera, ready to throw it at her.
“Yo! Dam, my girl, you think you could snap a quick pic?” He puts his hands on his hips and grins. He had nothing to be ashamed of – or rather, had ever been ashamed of. “And make sure to shoot from higher up. I think the light should be coming off from over there so, uh, make sure I'm not all dark and shit.”
[collects water]
[attempts to catch word]
WusxttkdXU1-21-2
I’ve always preferred girls, I guess. The words escape from her lips as most truth does, buried too long and left to crumble. He thinks for a minute on being a shut-in, and never leaving home because of sadness. He almost stumbles over a set of holes because he’s straining his temples to just envision what it would have meant to lock himself away. They are two separate hearts, then – hers beating heavy to contain what she feels inside, controlled, and his rapid and untamed, destined to burst before it ever would settle. He sees the darkness under a hot sun; his eyes staring out across an empty bed toward a mirror, seeing himself, feeling empty. He’s ashamed, then, with how he can see himself and the imperfections, the mistake that he had made but couldn’t erase.
“The world has a strange sense of humor putting us together,” He says at last, and then says nothing at all. He takes slow and ambling steps toward the green in the distance. His heavy boots crunch through the cracked dirt at his feet.
He lets the silence creep in to make space between them. It’s a distance he’s used to having with men that settle too deeply underneath his skin. Moments when he can feel the chill run down his spine when there’s more to be known but they haven’t earned just yet, he says nothing at all. Let them fill the space, or reclaim your own power in silence. But Damaris is not a man, not even a girl that took any interest in a boy like Saturn. What was he to do when, knowing that she was looking back at him, she saw him and only him, paid full attention to his words and feelings, as though she could understand his personhood over his presentation?
Another quiet beeping fills the air, and as they press through the first stalks of tall grass, Saturn snatches a white parachuted box out of the sky. He flicks it open and finds a camera – not quite so useful, except, he wonders, well – perhaps to let someone know I’m still alive. He treads carefully along the grasses, taller than even he, and coarse to the touch. Berlin comes to mind first, if only because the smell of the grass reminds him of the boy atop the wrestling mats. They’d sparred and fallen over each other, and gone between sheets as well (physically impressive, if a little too firm for his taste). Stanley was true enough – he couldn’t get the boy out of his mind since the moment he’d pressed his fingers into his back, even if the frightened thing had hurried away (probably just afraid of what he’d have to handle had they’d gone any further). And then Exover –
He stares at Damaris in front of him and slowly starts to peel off each of his clothes. First the vest, then the boots, until soon he’s scattered them neatly into a little pile next to his plush unicorn backpack. Clad only in his birthday suit he whistles ahead to Damaris, and waves the camera, ready to throw it at her.
“Yo! Dam, my girl, you think you could snap a quick pic?” He puts his hands on his hips and grins. He had nothing to be ashamed of – or rather, had ever been ashamed of. “And make sure to shoot from higher up. I think the light should be coming off from over there so, uh, make sure I'm not all dark and shit.”
[collects water]
[attempts to catch word]
WusxttkdXU1-21-2
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