[ aventurine wakes to an unfamiliar ceiling. this isnāt a terribly unfamiliar state of affairs, though itās been a long time since it was concerning. a quick survey of the amenities: satin-smooth sheets, pleated ruffles, terribly gaudy ceilings, and the sweet scent of something distinctly like chocolate and strawberry lingering like the flashbulb recall of a kinder memory - tells aventurine that he is no longer in penacony, lest aventurine somehow has terribly misgauged the quality of the familyās collective imaginations, in which the next conversation aventurine will need to have with mister sunday is going to be quite a bit more interesting than the last one.
there is a still-dreaming body next to aventurine. the body is still warm. this also isnāt an unbelievable state of affairs. aventurine spends a moment cataloguing the slow, rise and fall of an unknown cadence, before concluding he can carve out a few moments for himself. aventurine slips from the bed with the fine, silent touch of a man used to waking first. his bare feet sink into the unmatched opulence of the carpet. in aventurineās experience, the reason for unearned and unasked-for opulence is either that there is something someone wants from you, or that someone has already taken what they wanted. the touch to aventurineās ear returns the bare prick of his fingernails against an empty piercing. what comes to mind, aventurine realises, is a saying that he hasnāt put significant thought into for a very long time: that a mountain never meets a mountain, but a man will always meet a man.
itās twenty minutes later that aventurine makes himself known. it starts with the slow sinking of his knee into the plush mattress of pleated sheets, warmth gliding over the warm weight of the person sharing his bed. aventurineās shadow comes to a slinking rests over the sharp relief of the personās sleeping face. light percolates around the feathering edges of his blond hair like the halation of a golden dawn; his eyes, bands of peacock purple and cornflower blue and the colour of an unfiltered hallucination in stereo, are terribly amused. ]
You know, Iāve always been told that the only way up in the world is to marry into money. [ he says, with a little smile that never quite manages to reach his eyes. the chocolate-covered strawberry pinched between his fingers presses itself against your characterās lips. ] It seems that Iāve achieved that goal without even realising it. Good morning. Did you dream well?
[ because why let someone wake on their own terms when they can wake on aventurineās terms? ]
001.
there is a still-dreaming body next to aventurine. the body is still warm. this also isnāt an unbelievable state of affairs. aventurine spends a moment cataloguing the slow, rise and fall of an unknown cadence, before concluding he can carve out a few moments for himself. aventurine slips from the bed with the fine, silent touch of a man used to waking first. his bare feet sink into the unmatched opulence of the carpet. in aventurineās experience, the reason for unearned and unasked-for opulence is either that there is something someone wants from you, or that someone has already taken what they wanted. the touch to aventurineās ear returns the bare prick of his fingernails against an empty piercing. what comes to mind, aventurine realises, is a saying that he hasnāt put significant thought into for a very long time: that a mountain never meets a mountain, but a man will always meet a man.
itās twenty minutes later that aventurine makes himself known. it starts with the slow sinking of his knee into the plush mattress of pleated sheets, warmth gliding over the warm weight of the person sharing his bed. aventurineās shadow comes to a slinking rests over the sharp relief of the personās sleeping face. light percolates around the feathering edges of his blond hair like the halation of a golden dawn; his eyes, bands of peacock purple and cornflower blue and the colour of an unfiltered hallucination in stereo, are terribly amused. ]
You know, Iāve always been told that the only way up in the world is to marry into money. [ he says, with a little smile that never quite manages to reach his eyes. the chocolate-covered strawberry pinched between his fingers presses itself against your characterās lips. ] It seems that Iāve achieved that goal without even realising it. Good morning. Did you dream well?
[ because why let someone wake on their own terms when they can wake on aventurineās terms? ]