sirenspull | video.

Entry tags:

!: alois trancy

video.

[The video is moving, when it comes on; it's being set aside. It blurs past legs (and torn stockings, a sock slid down a calf, and raspberried bruises), the owner of which seems to be sitting on a curb. When it's settled, it's clear the NV's been nestled in grass, so there are a couple of blades poking into view. But across the way is what's important: a family of small ducks waddling round a fountain. People are walking all around - you can hear them, their chatters and leather toe taps - and children are pulled away from the birds' paths by the quick hands of their mothers. Not many people are leisurely.

Alois' voice is, though, when he speaks.]

Someone from home, come and fetch me, will you? Bring handkerchiefs, and I want to stop for an ice cream come before we go back.

[There's a great sniff, which sounds a little gruesome. In the camera's peripheral, his foot shifts.]

Here is what I learned today, for those who might be none the wiser. I don't think the concept of defending anyone or anything is really real. I think, when it comes down to it, we see something we don't like so we get pissed off.

It's the truth, but it sounds a lot less pure than saying you're defending justice or friends or your good causes, huh?

[He laughs, too, the sound a little biting. A spray of shredded lettuce leaves arches over the camera, and flutters down a little ways a way. Some ducks start to talk and come clamoring for it. Alois shuts off his NV.]

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I'll have my tea then, if that's the case.

[If Ciel comes back a little over an hour later, he'll find Alois sprawled on their bed, still pink from his bath (and purple from his brawl). His eyes are closed, and he's only wearing a dressing gown, carelessly tied around his waist. His bandages are off, too, having been removed after ice and before bath time, but a box of them is set beside him. He's just too lazy to reapply them right now.

His face is hardly swollen now, at least. He hasn't a proper shiner, but there's a dark bruise underneath his left eye, and a cut at his cheekbone just below, a sharp kiss from someone's knuckles. Now that he's washed and relaxed, he looks much better, but it's all still a little worthy of a cringe.

He's almost dozing off, from the heat of the bath, the steam, but the cooler air in the bedroom is beginning to rouse him a little.]

_{[Finished with his tea, Ciel had headed back to their room to find Alois like he'd promised he would. There, on their bed, was Alois, looking sleepy in a bathrobe, not having bothered to put on a nightgown or clothes. There was a little sigh as he closed the door behind himself gently.]}

Alois?

Mmmm? [It's languid, like a cat woken in the sun. Alois lifts his head enough to peek.] Welcome back. [His head drops.] Nn. Had your tea?

I did. _{[He moved over to the bed then, to take a seat on the edge of the mattress.]} How are you fairing?

Oh, fine. [His hand wanders across the bed, so that he can touch Ciel.] I'm just warm from my bath. I was in longer than I thought. Tired, now. Long day.

As long as you didn't manage to be sucked down the drain.

_{[And Ciel lets his own fingers wander over to that hand, to set upon it lightly.]}

If you're tired you should sleep soundly, if anything.

We should take a nap, and then stay up all night together.

Oh? And what would we do at night then?

Drink champagne and play with the sugar gliders.

How indulgent.

And why shouldn't we be? We're quite more alive than some, aren't we? Let's make use of it.

_{[Alive...ahaha.]}

Are the sugar gliders really necessary though?

Don't be mean, they love you. [He sticks his index finger into his mouth to suck on it. It tastes residually coppery, he's sure.] Well? What would you do different? [he says, speaking around his finger.]

Have desserts in nightgowns and slippers. Lay about and read to one another. Perhaps a kiss or two.

I guess those aren't bad ideas.

See, sometimes my ideas are grand.

Don't get a fat head.

What will you read to me, this time?

Some poetry, perhaps, for a change.

[His hand leaves his mouth.] Oh, Ciel, that's very romantic.

...It is?

[Ah, Ciel is hopeless.]

Well - didn't you know? Poetry is ever so romantic, you speak in poetry when you're speaking out of love.

Ah...of course.

_{[He was thinking of poems more along the lines of The Raven...]}

[That's because he fucking sucks.]

Hearing you read poetry to me would make me really... [As a giddy display, he pats his own cheeks with both hands, and then jumps a little; he's forgotten to mind his cuts and bruises.] Oh, ow, no, but, you know what I mean.

I do, yes. _{[All too well.]}

You need to be patched up again.

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