Glitch (
aintnoconvict) wrote in
taxonomites2012-10-09 09:11 am
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057 ± [visual / location: around town] i like the autumn but this place is getting old
At roughly quarter to nine in the morning, Taxon is greeted with a video broadcast of a holo broadcast.
"Hello?"
One can tell it's not a proper arrival because instead of the usual stark arrival room, there's a tiny Glitch hovering over a nightstand. Beyond, there is a patchwork quilt covering a shifting, grumbling lump.
"DG...Cain?" From under the covers, Glitch's head emerges and he peers blearily at his tiny duplicate. "Raw?"
"Cute," he mumbles, the props his chin up to watch the show.
"Cain's going to be mad," the hologram remarks fussily. Glitch snorts. "But...no, it's not my fault this time. I was following him! I was following him! I was follow-"
"All right, enough of that." Glitch pokes his tablet so the holo replay of his arrival vanishes, then scowls when he notices that it's still broadcasting. "Guess that's the aliens' way of wishing me a happy anniversary. Morning, all."
Then he turns the tablet off and flops back with a sigh.
Three annuals. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six weeks. Something like a thousand ninety-five days and he's still not sure how he survived the first dozen of them. Illyria'd basically pointed him at the door and he'd been on his own until DG's arrival. Adaptation. Coping. Moving on. Waiting and surviving, that was 90% of this place.
Today, though, he'll keep busy and distribute a few gifts. The first pumpkin from the garden for Cain with a short length of distinctive gold braiding tied around the stem. One of DG's sketchbooks for Azkadellia, a more intimate glimpse of the younger princess' life here. He's ready to let go, and he hopes it will give Az some comfort. The first volume of his organized notes on Taxon for Mayland, a drink or two with Paul after lunch, dropping a scarf off for Madelyne (the days are getting chillier and he frets), and then...then he'll take Bagoas out for dinner. Because why not.
He sends a voice message to his friend to make arrangements (Italian, Glitch decides, will be nice), gets ready for the day, loads a basket with goodies, and sets off on his bicycle to make the rounds.
ooc: THREE YEARS what even. He'll be stopping by to see everyone mentioned above (and all of that's hadnwavey if you like), but anyone not mentioned is totally welcome to bump into him too. OPEN POST IS OPEN.
"Hello?"
One can tell it's not a proper arrival because instead of the usual stark arrival room, there's a tiny Glitch hovering over a nightstand. Beyond, there is a patchwork quilt covering a shifting, grumbling lump.
"DG...Cain?" From under the covers, Glitch's head emerges and he peers blearily at his tiny duplicate. "Raw?"
"Cute," he mumbles, the props his chin up to watch the show.
"Cain's going to be mad," the hologram remarks fussily. Glitch snorts. "But...no, it's not my fault this time. I was following him! I was following him! I was follow-"
"All right, enough of that." Glitch pokes his tablet so the holo replay of his arrival vanishes, then scowls when he notices that it's still broadcasting. "Guess that's the aliens' way of wishing me a happy anniversary. Morning, all."
Then he turns the tablet off and flops back with a sigh.
Three annuals. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six weeks. Something like a thousand ninety-five days and he's still not sure how he survived the first dozen of them. Illyria'd basically pointed him at the door and he'd been on his own until DG's arrival. Adaptation. Coping. Moving on. Waiting and surviving, that was 90% of this place.
Today, though, he'll keep busy and distribute a few gifts. The first pumpkin from the garden for Cain with a short length of distinctive gold braiding tied around the stem. One of DG's sketchbooks for Azkadellia, a more intimate glimpse of the younger princess' life here. He's ready to let go, and he hopes it will give Az some comfort. The first volume of his organized notes on Taxon for Mayland, a drink or two with Paul after lunch, dropping a scarf off for Madelyne (the days are getting chillier and he frets), and then...then he'll take Bagoas out for dinner. Because why not.
He sends a voice message to his friend to make arrangements (Italian, Glitch decides, will be nice), gets ready for the day, loads a basket with goodies, and sets off on his bicycle to make the rounds.
ooc: THREE YEARS what even. He'll be stopping by to see everyone mentioned above (and all of that's hadnwavey if you like), but anyone not mentioned is totally welcome to bump into him too. OPEN POST IS OPEN.
no subject
"I'll settle the bill," he says softly, eyes bright and wide. "And we'll go home, and you can test it. I wanna see what you do."
no subject
"Yes." He looks up, lashes damp and spirits soaring to untold heights. "You simply must show me everything. I'll use you as my subject, of course."
He stands, box still held close to his chest. It is no less precious to him now another promise crackles in the air between them; just as precious and beautiful as before, but in a different capacity.
"I'll get our clothes, shall I?"
no subject
And with Bagoas...he's found that he's not as secure as he'd told himself, that he still needs both support and surrender, to be held up and taken care of. He's a curious scientist and a more than willing subject.
"Please and thank you." And whatever credits this evening, these gifts have set him back? Are beyond well-spent.
no subject
Belly full and heart warmed, Bagoas stays close and cuddled up throughout the ride and consequent walk to Glitch's charming house. Arm in arm or fingers twined; or both, as fancy strikes.
"In case I forget," he tells Glitch as they turn onto his front yard, tilting his head upwards to better nuzzle his jawline. "Thank you for a lovely night."
no subject
He hums, kisses Bagoas' cheek for good measure, and flashes a grin. "Thank you for making it lovelier," he replies and nods to the door. "Come on, I...suspect you might have plans for me."