Open: it's time now to sing out though the story never ends

[vineleaves]

[This is being posted early, but it is meant to be occurring on the one year anniversary of Dionysus arriving at the mansion.]

There's a room in the mansion Dionysus discovered somewhat recently that is, for lack of anything better to call it, a dance studio. Shiny hardwood floors, one long wall of mirror, the opposite wall featuring a mounted barre. If anyone happens to be walking by it today, the open door might catch their attention, as Dionysus has his cd player set up playing music, which he is dancing to at the moment. He's wearing a pair of gauzy, loose pants that sit low on his hips, complete with a gold belt with dangling chains that serve to help emphasize his movements. His hair is pulled up into a messy bun, finally long enough that he can get all of it up with only a minimum of strands sticking out oddly.

He has been here for a whole year. To be fair, he's only slightly certain he's got the date correct, but even if it hasn't been a full year to the exact minute or whatever, it's close enough. A whole year. A year trapped, held prisoner for some unknown reason, unable to break out, kept away from all of his friends and family. A year in which he has been given the wonderful opportunity to meet people he couldn't possibly imagine living without now, in a place where anything, even stopping death, is possible.

Dionysus is fairly zoned out as he dances, so if anyone decides to duck in and say hello, it might take him a while before he notices.

Comments

[futaille]

"You have an absolutely delightful forehead." He stretches to kiss said forehead.

[vineleaves]

Dionysus smiles, but doesn't say anything as to not interrupt again (yet, anyway).

[futaille]

"And your eyebrows." He traces them with a thumb. "They're very expressive."

[vineleaves]

Reflexively he closes his eyes as Grantaire does that. "Sometimes too expressive," he says with a laugh.

[futaille]

"Oh, not at all. The perfect amount of expressive."

[vineleaves]

"I'm glad you think so," he laughs. "It does make it hard to keep my thoughts to myself sometimes though."

[futaille]

"Luckily for the rest of us. Your thoughts are wonderful. I'd almost say divine."

[vineleaves]

"Well yes, but that's a technicality," he says, laughing again.

[futaille]

"And therefore true."

[vineleaves]

"I suppose I can't argue with that!"

[futaille]

"You can, if you like. I promise I really am very good at arguing even if I don't actually argue with you very often. If ever."

[vineleaves]

"I like listening to you talk too much to argue. It's more fun to let you just go without me interrupting."

[futaille]

"It really is astounding how sweet you are."

[vineleaves]

He laughs. "For letting you talk, for my personal benefit?"

[futaille]

"Precisely. Now, moving on to your adorable nose."

[vineleaves]

"It's adorable?" This is, of course, an invitation to go on.

[futaille]

"Absolutely adorable. Marvelously formed, proportionate to your face, I have no complaints."

[vineleaves]

"I suppose you do see it more regularly than I do, so I will simply have to take your word on it."

[futaille]

"And I just realized I skipped your eyes entirely, which is a travesty. I love your eyes. They're remarkable."

[vineleaves]

"Aww, thank you sweetheart. D'you like them better brown or purple?"

[futaille]

"I love both and refuse to choose."

[vineleaves]

"You're so sweeet to me," he says, leaning up for a kiss.

[futaille]

Of course he kisses back. "You deserve it."

[vineleaves]

"More sweetness," he says before kissing Grantaire again just as a particularly chilly gust of wind blows by.

[futaille]

He shivers a bit. "Could we possibly finish the nose-to-toes segment inside?"