pathnottaken: Bagoas looking down, smiling brightly (happy; grin)
Bagoas of Susa ([personal profile] pathnottaken) wrote in [community profile] taxonomites2013-10-21 03:57 pm

glittering dot, singing bangle, sparkling nose ring [location: all over!] backdated to Oct 10th

When dawn comes, it brings with it a morning of new opportunities: so Bagoas has learned well since a very young age. He rolls over in his bed - his bed, not a sugary monstrosity - and a bright, beaming grin spreads over his face. Nothing smells of caramel or rosewater (well, no more rosewater than he is perfectly used to), nothing sticks to him: he is of flesh and blood once more.

So he breathes deep, and stretches out onto his belly like a drowsy, sleepy puppy.

...or a dog.

...with a bone.

... ... ...

Eyes wide open, Bagoas, son of Artembares, son of Araxis, lies very, very still.

That is not something his body has ever done in his entire life. It bears investigation, though he can't help but wonder if this is another 'swap' thing - though he very vividly recalls not waking up in his own bed that time. On the other hand, what's to keep their captors from swapping people around in other ways than the purely metaphysical?

Five minutes later he's beaming at himself in the bathroom mirror, making ridiculous faces at what is very much his face, but not at all. He can see his father looking back, and his mother, in the sharp angle of his jaw, in his nose and the curve of his smile.

He is still himself. He is what he might have been, had his life continued on its first path, all those years ago: he is a man, with all that that entails.

Too bad this also means hardly any of his clothes fit - he mourns their loss, but makes do. His undergarments may be too short, but they are wide and spacious as per tradition, and with a few sweeps of colourful sari by way of too long arms around too long legs (perfectly long, muscular, dancer's legs) he has fashioned for himself a type of pant that hangs about the legs in a way that becomes of a modest enough man.

Then there's the question of kaftans, all of which he owns (not many of them in his wardrobe, but still) are frightfully tight across the shoulders and never so much as make it past his neck.

Another sari, then, wrapped around his torso and shoulders in the ways of the women of India. A pair of ear-hugging earrings, oiled hair and painted eyes, then he goes out into the cold October air (but when is it not cold, when one has grown up in the summers of Susa?).

He'll see the city, and his friends, from a new perspective. From a full five inches higher up: he is nearly as tall as his first King, or so he imagines.

The day is full of promises - even if he is not quite steady on his sandal'd feet. Not yet, but he shall be.
loves_bitch: (Looking Down Shirtless)

Because I haven't gotten around to this elsewhere...

[personal profile] loves_bitch 2013-10-21 10:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Spike wakes up in his bed. He knows it is his bed - it smells like him, though that's a little weird. Usually, he wouldn't have to think about that to know it to be true. The first thing that occurs to him, quickly, is that he is cold, so very cold, what is going on why is is it so cold and it is really bright and....

Wait.

A few other facts becomes quickly obvious to Spike.

1 - His bed is outside.
2 - This means he is outside.
3 - The sun is shining.
4 - He is not bursting into flames.
5 - He's wearing what he usually wears to bed, i.e. nothing.

He's been in more awkward situations, certainly, but the awkwardness of it doesn't even occur to him as he's too caught up in the amazing fact that he's not on fire. And he's breathing. And.... starving.

For just this brief moment, though, he's going to lay here in this patch of sunlight and bask.
loves_bitch: (Do Tell)

[personal profile] loves_bitch 2013-10-23 07:51 pm (UTC)(link)
At the throat clearing, Spike opens and eye and looks over at Bagoas. After a few seconds of contemplation, the pleased expression on his face changes to a less happy cat in the sun expression and more enjoying the day expression. If he cares about being naked out here, it isn't apparent in his body language at all.

"S'just me or have you had a bit of a change as well?" Spike pushes himself up into a sitting position, bed sheets shifting with his movements. He loses coverage in some places and seems to truly notice that it is cold out here as he shivers.