just_displaced | Open Post

[Sure, bring up the ONE THING he can't do. Just at this moment. He's normally super powerful, okay!

And yes, you have a very pouty looking fairy king on your hands now, sorry.]

Look, it has to be some kind of dark wizard or warlock, or something. I don't have every power, if we were in a situation that could be solved by a thunderstorm you'd be extremely impressed.

Oh. Uh huh.

[He's nodding encouragingly. He doesn't want Oliver to pout! He believes in his powers, really, it's just... he hasn't seen any.]

So you can do thunderstorms. What else can you do?

You know, master of the elements. All creatures of the fairy must bend to my will, dominion over the mortals, that sort of thing. You should see us all at the high festivals, hoards of elves and hobgoblins kneeling at my feet. Magnificent!

When we had the festivals, at any rate.

[He's gone from pouty to sighing dramatically. Oh, the good old days.]

You just don't get the turn out you used to.

I'd imagine that the elves and hobgoblins are kind of lacking, these days. At least, I've never met any. That I know of.

[Dramatic sighs are better than pouts. That's a step in the right direction.]

So... show me something magical?

That's rather forward, don't you think? We only just met.

[You're very lucky he found an opportunity to go back into flirting mode there. He might have stayed pouting for ages otherwise.

There's a small potted ivy plant in the corner of the room. Oliver settles back against the pillows again, and without any visible strain or effort, he starts making it grow.

It's slow and steady, and will probably take Ginsberg a little while to notice, at least until the creepers spill from the table onto the floor and start winding around the legs of the bed they're on.]

I didn't mean, uh... that wasn't...

[Flustered. Yep. He can't help it. It's just part of his nature. And for awhile there, it's true, he has no idea what's supposed to be happening... until he notices the ivy plant growing. And growing pretty impressively, too. He can't help but look somewhere between startled and impressed.]

Okay, that's pretty cool. You can control plants. That'd be a fun power to have.

Not just plants. Like I said, mastery of the elements. Weather and oceans and that sort of thing.

[He nods attentively. That is really cool.]

I wish I had powers like that. Actually, no, I don't, because I'd probably misuse them horribly. But in theory, it'd be neat.

I won't lie and say there hasn't been a little misuse in the past.

[A lot. A lot of misuse. He's not going to bring up how having arguments with his wife tends to result in pesky little natural disasters.

The ivy is creeping up the edge of the bed now, although its speed has slowed considerably. Oliver is bored with ivy, anyway, back to playing with Ginsberg's hair, that's much nicer. ]

[And he's getting comfortable with having his hair played with. Probably too comfortable. He should really be focused on this whole being paranoid thing, because that's what he does, and they're still trapped in a locked room, after all. It's just that he hasn't had sustained physical contact like this in... quite awhile? Ever? And it's nice.]

I'd ask about that misuse but I'm assuming it's probably a lot bigger than just a 'little' misuse because, you know, controlling the elements could make some pretty serious things go wrong. So I'll just stick to believing that you can grow plants and you're not potentially scary at all. Since I'm trapped in a room with you.

[He can feel how relaxed Ginsberg is becoming, and it's a nice feeling. Not only because of getting to feel smug as fuck for managing to calm him down, but because that sort of sleepy contentedness is coming off him in waves.]

I hardly seem very scary, do I?

Well... not really... but sometimes...

[He's just going to interrupt his little protest with a yawn.]

... sometimes really scary people are the ones who don't seem scary at all. To lure you into a false sense of security. With their hair stroking. And beards.

If I am then it's working wonderfully.

[Really, be cuter. Honestly, it's a little disgusting.]

If you're planning on killing me, I'd just ask that you do it quickly. I've never been particularly interested in the whole long, drawn out, dramatic death thing.

I have little to no interest in killing you right now.

[Not when he's all warm and affectionate and full of adorable neurosis, he's far too entertaining. And then he'd be trapped in a room by himself with a terrible sex book.

His hand goes back to tracing little circles on Ginsberg's arm, humming a little under his breath as he does.]

That's reassuring. I think.

[Honestly, he's banking on the fact that Oliver really doesn't want to be alone with the stupid book, because he seems like the kind of guy who needs someone to talk to. Or to trace circles on the arm of, as the case may be.]

... you really don't think this is weird, do you?

[He means the whole touching thing.]

What, not being able to open the door? Unusual, but like I said, not the first time this has happened.

No, the uh...

[Well, just make him say it out loud, why don't you?! Then again, he's never really had a problem saying things out loud.]

The cuddling. Touching. Thing.

It's not weird, though. It's very nice.

You're not enjoying it?

No, I'm definitely enjoying it. I just don't... I mean, usually, at least in my experience, people don't really like to do this kind of thing all that much. Especially guys.

[Especially fabulously bearded guys, much to his endless chagrin.]

You must hang out with the wrong sort of people. I've always enjoyed doing it quite a lot.

[He'll confirm his point by adjusting him a little closer.]

People have seemed to have become weirdly hung up about it in the past few decades, though, it's true. I wonder why that happened.

I don't really hang out with people at all. Except for people at work, and regardless of what they think of cuddling, they probably don't think it's a good idea to do at work. Although they do all kinds of other weird stuff at work...

[Yes, please do adjust him a little closer. You're so tall and comfy.]

... I'm pretty sure it's the whole homosexuality thing. I mean, that people'll think you're a homosexual if you so much as accidentally brush against another guy in the elevator, much less cuddle with one.

I'd quote a friend of mine about mortals and being fools, but I can't quite remember the phrasing.

[Really, this is all seeming very confusing. Worry about dying, worrying about people giving a fuck who you're sleeping with. Sounds exhausting to think about. No wonder Ginsberg is stressed out all the time.]

Well, it's an apt quote, whatever the phrasing is. I mean, I'd like to not care about it, and I'd like to tell the rest of the world to go fuck itself and its assumptions, but I kind of have to. Care about it, that is.

[It's completely exhausting. That's why he panics a lot. Surprisingly, he's not particularly panicky right now, because hey, someone to cuddle.]

[He runs his fingers along the creases of Ginsberg's forehead, as though smoothing out those worry lines.]

Nothing lasts forever, you know. You just have to wait it out.

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