[ crescentview ] ic inbox

[bluminescence]

[...]

Comments

[ intro overflow ]

[bluminescence]

[ the intro ]

[ night of the lube party ] [ closed to Steinbeck ]

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar arrives a healthy time after nightfall, easy to spot in the dark. His skin glows softly, off white and bioluminescent. Emanating brightest from his eyes, flecks of light blue tint his usually light grey eyes. If one looks close, Kaspar's glow is slightly sharper at his veins and softest at the tiny pins of light that dusts his skin like barely there freckles.

The night air is cooler, giving him cause to change shirts between the slides and now. Tight white undershirt, mostly covered by longer sleeved flannel. His trousers, leather boots, and usual gear make a return. The most curious new thing may be the blanket and basket he carries with him.

He can see better in the dim lighting than a normal human, scanning for any sign of the other man. Or a campfire. ]

[ post drunken summer meeting ] [ closed to sylvando ]

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar shows up at Sylvando's, only a little late. He is unhurried walking along the sand, leather boots sinking slightly. He is too easily distracted by what the man's place looks from the first sight of it that he catches (no matter what it actually looks like). His gaze drifts over the farm in detail, eventually wandering out across the beach to squint at the sunlight on the waves.

His interest in dancing had been genuine. An solitary interest, one he still felt the tightening of his throat over the thought of doing it in from of anyone else. He might have asked on his own eventually. Possibly. But the wine had hastened his whims along into reality. And there was no denying he wanted to know now that Sylvando knows and is still willing to show him. Curiosity, about dancing and his fascination about everything that Sylvando is, their contrasts and commonalities, drums energy into the look in his eyes. More words or less, both are as equally themselves in their own ways. His calm smile matches his quiet steps.

Sober and well rested, with a closed basket under one arm, it is hard to notice the extra time he took to look nice today. But he has accepted things, lending confidence and peace to how he carries himself fearlessly into the unknown. It is Sylvando, so he doubts it won't be fun, whether he is good at spicy dancing or not.

Wearing his more relaxed yet well fitted summer clothes in light textiles and colors. Short sleeved shirt and pants, in whites and blues, he fills them out predictably well. He was fit before, and farm work has only been kind to him since. Kaspar us prepared for movement, for it to be easy to tell if he is getting a move right or wrong, with the sole exception of his leather boots. His hair is styled in his usual effortless looking way, leaving a blue summer flower from the forest tucked behind his ear. Those in the know, might realize how much effort he happily puts in on a daily basis anyway, simply for the joy of it.

If Sylvando hasn't noticed him out here daydreaming, he will knock eventually. ]

[ summer ] [ post auction drama ] [ cw: probably just nudity who knows ]

[bluminescence]

[ It's stifling. The heat of the sun, the day, the pressure of all those eyes on him. He'd been stretched too thin, whittled to his nerves. The tree line marks the goal he'd set for himself. As if everything will be alright if he can just meet that marker. Like the tunnels, mile by mile, little goals when the larger feels too heavy.

He doesn't want to be followed, zigzagging his light steps into the forest with apparently no concern for direction, besides away. Away from the auction, away from being found at his house or anyone else's. He tries to count the little things that he likes as he goes, hoping to tip the scale. To calm the anger that sparks every time he thinks about what just happened.

The trees allow the breeze to pass, to brush against his heated skin and hair heavy with the humidity still lingering in the summer air. There is plenty of oxygen up here to fill his lungs, fresh without the smell of blood and gunpowder. He can breathe and laugh bitterly, softly, quietly under his breath, without eyes or judgment or his heart scooped raw for spectacle. But he doesn't cry. Not for this.

He'd thought it would be fun. That Zieks would see his bid for what it was. Saving, then deciding it is a want, only for it to crumble in his hands. He'd thought wrongly.

Kaspar's quick pace only slows when he comes upon a small pool, a small snag in the slow moving river, just below a short drop of a waterfall. Rounded banks, imperfect, peaceful, the gently current fills the pool with clear water, shaded by the trees that overhang. Kaspar, fit as he is but weakened by the sun and the tightness in his chest, is sweating by the time he finds this secluded place. Thoughts foggy, he doesn't even glance before starting to peel back the layers of his clothes, shirt thrown over a branch before he even starts on his belt.

Turning to face whatever sound is in the distance, animal or otherwise. ]