Open: All that you are is a face in the mirror

[vineleaves]

That was certainly a weird dream. If he hadn't experienced everyone else being ...weird alternate versions, he wouldn't think anything of it, but considering the fact that he had, he is now wondering if it happened to him, as well.

First order of business though is of course checking on Mercutio, to make sure he is back. Once that particular fear is gone, he decides breakfast is in order, then he should check up on the garden. Hopefully today will be normal and uneventful.



If anyone would like to speak with regular Dionysus now that he is no longer an AU, feel free! Or honestly if you just want to talk to him anyway, that's fine too.

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[vineleaves]

He finishes up the eyeliner, then pauses long enough to kiss Sagramore, before moving on to mascara.

[sagramore]

"I like the way it feels, having thee attend to me," after a few moments of patient silence; he really cannot abide not talking.

[vineleaves]

That’s perfectly fine, Dionysus likes talkative people. “Aww, sweetheart, I’m glad. I’ll have to make a point to take care of you more then.” Done now with the eyes, he brushes away a little bit of fallout from the shadow off Sagramore’s cheeks, then starts hunting for a contour palette.

[sagramore]

That isn't quite what he'd meant, but-- perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps it's apt, given his resolution to let himself be cared for. He watches Dionysus, and his heart feels swollen and soft with love.

[vineleaves]

He finds a contour palette and holds it up next to Sagramore's face, to determine which colors would be best to use, before going in with a brush and adding some shading to his cheekbones and jawline. He starts singing again.

[sagramore]

Sagramore lets himself enjoy it. He likes that this is something Dionysus can do with utter confidence, that he works with the palette as if it's second nature; he likes listening to Dionysus sing, as he's already said, and the way it means he's happy. He hopes that the young prince who hummed in bed with him is somewhere better than the kingdom he wanted nothing to do with, and that he becomes this generous, open-hearted, happy god some day.

"Am I beautiful yet?" he asks, after some time has passed.

[vineleaves]

Contour, highlight, a little blush — Dionysus makes his way through these steps easily and quickly. It helps that he’s just doing a bit of pressed powders, and not a full beat or anything with creams and setting powder and such. It’s fun either way, of course, this is something he absolutely loves to do. And, he keeps reminding himself, it’s all a gift Sagramore is giving him. That makes it even more special.

“You’re always beautiful, love, but if you’re asking if I’m done yet, almost.” He quickly debates between a couple of lip color shades, settling on one before applying it with a brush, then digging for a setting spray. He finds a small blue aerosol can of KIERKLAAND FIXIERSPRAY and with a warning of, “okay, close your eyes and don’t breathe for a second,” he applies it, finally done.

[sagramore]

Sagramore grins and obeys; when Dionysus is finished he cracks them open again. "May I look?"

[vineleaves]

“Yep, all done,” he says, holding a mirror up for Sagramore. Not to toot his own horn or anything but he thinks he did a good job. “What do you think, love?”

[sagramore]

He touches his cheek. The face staring back at him would certainly pass for a woman's -- a strong-jawed, strong-nosed, not classically beautiful woman, but with the makeup and the loss of his beard, and his curls tumbling around, he could probably fool someone. He could be Laertes' Zsofia.

"I love it," he says softly.

[vineleaves]

“I’m glad,” he says, just as soft. “I’ll have to get you in full drag sometime, with a wig and bigger makeup and such. It’s fun but takes a while to do.” He traces a finger down the side of Sagramore’s cheek. He did a good job with the makeup, yes, but much more than that he’s just enjoying being with the man underneath it. The beautiful, sweet goofball of a man, who has the biggest heart of anyone Dionysus has known.

He leans down and catches Sagramore in a deep, warm kiss.

[sagramore]

His arms immediately wind around Dionysus' shoulders as he kisses back; when he draws back he stays close, gazing at Dionysus' face.

"Come to bed and make a mess of it, my heart."