{ a d o n i s }

SWIRLING DUST MOTES IN A SUN BEAM; A FEATHER IN THE GRASS; A BARE LIGHT BULB HANGING IN A ROOM; BRANCHES GRAZING AGAINST YOUR BARE SKIN; STRETCHING YOUR ARMS WHEN YOU WAKE UP; SIPPING WATER ON A WARM DAY; CHARMING LAUGHTER THAT MAKES HEARTS SWOON; THE IN-BETWEENS BEFORE FALLING ASLEEP; SCRAPED KNEES; RAPID BREATHS; DIGGING THROUGH COUCH CUSHIONS TO FIND EXTRA CHANGE, OLD SHOES TOO WORN OUT TO WEAR; SHARING CIGARETTES ON A PARK BENCH

[adcvis]

send 🍎 for an aesthetic moodboard of our muses. @lxstgxd

You could be the weightless unknown with me- where the fear courses inside me, and consumes me until I’m nothing more than a black cavern abyss all consuming. My teeth, they glisten reflecting the dazzling lights. Let yourself lose control with me. Let me feel something more than hollow shell that shapes me. I want to feel that anger, I want to feel your cataclysm colliding. Don’t hold back. Don’t hold back.

[adcvis]

send 🍎 for an aesthetic moodboard of our muses.  @jxles

She was honest, in a way Roman could never learn to be. And she see an honesty in him that they never saw in themselves, the part that longs to be with the earth. Ever since they were children they played together, hand in hand, splashing in the summer waves. Sometimes she’d push though, too far- demand the honesty from the child who’s lied to themselves as long as they can remember. Twigs snap, and branches graze against bare skin. Tell me who you are- I’ll love it so much more than who you pretend to be.

[adcvis]

send 🍇 for a moodboard describing my muse’s occupation. @hivoltagc

VINTER - Owner of Red Nectar Vineyard The sweet and strong vinsanto, also known as holy wine, is the pride and joy of the island. 

A plantation of grape vines, and fruit trees, Red Nectar vineyard is located just a short drive from town, hidden in the blessings of nature and well tended to gardens. A cellar shop front of the white stone building offers the perfect place for tourists and locals alike to taste and buy some of Kaos’s finest vinsanto, as well as local businesses to find a distributor. And the lush garden all year around provides a beautiful countryside escape, for those who wish to wander the grounds and pick the local grown fruits. The gardens are even known to be host to small concerts, and events alike.

[adcvis]

send 🍎 for an aesthetic moodboard of our muses. @superpcsitions

Arlo would be beautiful no matter the light that painted him, not just for the blushed hues that would pigment his satin skin, nor the way hair full of curls, would slide through Roman’s calloused fingers. But rather the way his hands brushed against others, and the tenderness his heart of rose petals and weighed gold.

[kaosinspo]

send 🍏 for an aesthetic moodboard of my muse.

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send 🍐 for a moodboard based on lyrics that describe my muse.

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send 🍒 for a moodboard of my muse’s family.

send 🍑 for a moodboard of my muse’s best friends.

send 🍍 for a moodboard of my muse’s romantic life.

[adcvis]

ONE DAY AT A TIME

Kaos Task 10 Raw they were in these hours. Stripped bare the the bones from where others so happily devoured their flesh- a ripe cherry.

we all know this bitch gets carried away with writing, so at the bottom there’s a nice summary for all of yall !! 

abuse tw, trauma tw

4:15 AM

Honey golds, dance with blues that ache for warmth in the dawning sky. Darkness still engulfs Roman’s room as they wake to the not-quite-night sky peering through their window, and desaturating the world as they sit up- their arms stretching out the stiffness that settles into their body as they sleep. They stand, bare feet setting in the carpet for a few steps, before finding the cool tiles beneath them as they make their way to the bathroom. They don’t much bother finding clothes to wear for modesty for the short work, their housemate would never be awake at this hour regardless.

The air settles crip in their lungs as they ride their bike under the eggshell moon that clings in the sky, and stars that glow orange even in this hour. It’s half past four by the time they make their way to their father’s, passing through the occasional glow of a street light, before the long stretches of nothing but the morning glow to light their way. It’s not every day they do this trek anymore, not since two years ago. Now it’s just every couple of days, they make their way over to fulfill their morning duties. Lend a hand to their father, how could he do it all on his own?

It’s Thursday, one of those days that claustrophobia settled into Roman and they quietly place their bike against the shed, and turn on the lights. Florescent tubes harshly flood the space, as they flicker to life with their gentle humming. If anyone was to see Roman stood in this space, they may perhaps see a truth that radiated from the steel walls that reflected memories of youth. Ones Roman’s learnt to look away from when their eyes dared linger too long on a wrench that clattered to the ground, now rest in a pile of motor oil- or the rusting bench that creaks and shakes the shed with the weight of a person thrown to it. It’s easy to see them here as they were as a child, demure, in their cream t-shit and jeans that held dirt and oil no matter how many times they’d seen the wash. Careful, not to be too loud, their hands taking years to find how not to be clumsy as they reached for anything near in sight and tightened white knuckled around the pain.

Breathe.

They remember to breath standing there. Their motions now close to mechanical, done in habit a hundred times over as they grab a bale of hay, lock the shed behind them. And begin making their way down to the paddock. They’re thankful they don’t have to rearrange the piles today, or bring in any new batches. But it’s this motion, as they’re carrying down in the dark, that sculpts the muscle in their body.

Gentle tussling, and moos are heard growing louder as he approaches, before hooves are heard hitting the dirt beneath them and coming over to greet Roman at the fence.

7:32 AM

He spends the next few hours in the fields, muddy flecks clinging to their clothes, and hands sweat dampens their shirt and runs from their forehead. The sun’s beginning to break the horizon, and the dew on the grass glistens with the days light. Grime wipes across Roman’s face where he can’t help stray hands, and dirt digs under their fingernails. And their body, like clay- malleable by the that hungered for him, is moving with such rhythmic ease. They hear the shed door opening in the distance, clattering metal singing through the still air. Their heart pounds against their chest. The birds silence and Roman just stands from where their knees rest in the dirt, and wipe the sheen from their cheeks. They remember to breathe.

8:18 AM

The island is somewhere Roman things they buried their bones a long time ago. Somewhere the birds sung to the sun that beamed rays of warm, and kissed the earth- and where trees and bushes grew wild, and roots would overcame their body and let their blood turn to nectar. Where they gave themselves completely to Kaos. They’d dream of such things, riding their bike home the long way around the island. When it started to become alive again. Vibrant under the glow of daylight. A delicate being, reflecting the sun in fractured iridescent light. Raw they were in these hours. Stripped bare the the bones from where others so happily devoured their flesh- a ripe cherry. Ready to sink your teeth into, and draw the marrow from their bones searching for that pit. It was the honesty of them. With melancholy to their eyes, and the lines of their face almost harsh that were so used to being hidden from the world. They were nothing more than a plump shiny fruit that’s already been passed through too many hands.

Devour me.

There are things that break these thoughts, like stopping to see friends at the cafe they now own- golden in these hours with bright smiles and a coffee waiting for them. And the woman who stood behind him in line, he so graciously offered to buy the coffee for, and accompanied her on her walk into town. Things that would break the honestly of Roman, not for it wasn’t true of them to be so charming. Rather, they’d stop being so raw, and hollow. And that cavern of darkness inside them where a pit should be, that longed to be loved in the only way they were taught, would stop aching. For at least a little while.

It was easy not to think in these times, when the words their mother taught them found place in their mouth. And the charming smile distracted from the dirt that clung to their clothes, and the red welting where a bruise would be forming on their forearm. They’d always know how to be what others needed, so much so that it was so easy not to see Roman.

09:06 AM

The coffee was cold by the time they made it back to their vineyard. Clad brick walls, that hide engulfed by trimmed leaves- still dewy from the morning mist. Or had Alexander already been down and watered the garden this morning? They could have sworn it was his day off.

Still they place the coffees on the bench, before they take a sip of their own as they start pulling out mushrooms, spinach and eggs to begin breakfast. Their employee taking the shop front for the day meant they were in no real rush.

09:41 AM

Kaos even at this hour would feel like it was sleeping, as Roman walks down to his vineyard with red wine slipping up the sides of a glass they hold as they tumble slightly in their step. It’s not unlike them, to have a taste of the newest batch as they head to the garden for some pruning. Their next harvest days aren’t until August, which means for now it’s simply upkeep. And the drips for the leaves tells Roman that Alexander was certainly here this morning. Yet they don’t want to leave, so they keep themselves busy.

11:29 AM

An ache settles into their muscles, and stiffens their back that they can still feel even after they stepped from the shower, they had in hoped that the hot water that rushed over their body would relieve their dull pain. But the hot water only reminded them of the bruise that would be known on their back, welling up to a vibrant red already. And the way their skin softened around where fingers grasped tightly. A reminder. Sometimes they forget to be quiet around him- since moving out their footsteps have found heavier treading, and they found it harder to be unknown. Not in a way they used to be at least. But they bite their tongue, and dry around where rough hands sculpted him- because by now it’s all too easy to accept.

Their own vineyard looked too perfect today not to share with anyone. Especially after they spent the last few hours in it. Pruning leaves, and mulching the earth. Caring for the plants, each a breathing part of this Island. Thumbs fiddling to find names as they scroll through their phone list, some seem familiar, others have drunken pictures to accompany them- others, Roman guesses they’ll remember the face to the name one day. They open up a familiar name though, looking to the previous sent messages with amusement clinging to their face. And they type out an invite.

03:13 PM

slightly nsfw

They know it’s not love. Tangled bed sheets, and wine soaked breath. Fingernails grazing their back, where bruises are now known. Their breath short, as they kiss tender thighs where the bury their head. Sweat is heavy in the air, that’s now thick to breathe. But all they can smell is the saccharine sweet scent of the other’s perfume flooding the air. Messy are their kisses, that taste of dried apricots, and fresh cherries that left their lips a vibrant stain of red. Roman thinks they could sink their teeth into them and devour them. Or was that the creature they called love that stirred inside them. Beating at their chest, it would threaten to shatter the sculpture that was Roman.

Made to be loved.

Adored.

06:05 PM

They wake to the cool breeze sending goose bumps tailing along their skin, where sweat still clung to cool them- and their arm stretching out to reach to the other. But their bed beside them empty. Their eyes open despite the groggy protest, and the room still smells of honey, and cherries- and overly sweet fruits that could have been fermented. Rotten. It’s the only way anything could be that sweet they think. If it’s truly rotten from the inside. They know that much to at least be true about themselves.

08:24 PM

God, you look just like him.

Delicate hues begin to waft through the sky each night at sun set, something Roman would never truly grow old of seeing. The street lights that ting to life around the roads and cast a glow on the person that stepped from the taxi into the middle of a street coming to life. Idle chatter surrounds them, and swarms their ears in comfort. Home. It would always be home. But there would barley be a shadow of resemblance left on them of the person that came to life in the sun that morning.

It wasn’t the way their pressed shirt seemed too sharp, or the way their shoes polished don’t look like they’ve seen a speck of dirt in their lives. Instead it’s that untraceable mask that lines their face- that smile, too sharp for their own likings. One they hated to see in mirrors, and stretched across their features. They’re not sure the day their father lost his mask, and Roman clung to it so desperately with white-knuckled fists. But it’s there now, staring at them in window reflections.

“Table for Veretta,” Although it’s not needed. They’re always at this restaurant, the same nights, just with different people. Night times in Kaos always were the best times for business, and tonight it wasn’t unlike many others. A big city restaurant owner, who’d travelled quite some distance to be here tonight. Of course it never was just for the vinsanto. It would be to see the island, or a long needed holiday, or somewhere to spend time with the mistress. and of course it was a coincidence, but they had to make time for a meeting.

10:43 PM

Warm chuckles and a honeysuckle voice, Roman and their guest had barley notice the time pass over dinner and the bottles of their own vinsanto that kept the table with flushed cheeks and dark stained lips. The two left with a deal for a few crates shipped every month, and the warmth that fills one’s body be it happiness, good conversation, or intoxication. And Roman can’t stand the idea of simply going home for the night.

FRIDAY

01:13 AM

The night air is cool on the breath, but it doesn’t phase the young couple that stumble around the tiled living room. Roman’s hair disheveled from where the other had their fingers tangled in it, and their laughter wafting through the house- echoing on the brick despite their drunkenly ushered hushes after the outbursts.

SUMMARY TLDR ; 

- 4am early riser, soft boi hours - the moon’s still in the sky as they start riding the bike to their fathers to work on the farm - sad boi hours begin, god it always hits hard in a place filled with memories - roman’s different in the morning, like someone who only becomes known when others tell them what they want. before no one sees them, they’re a blank canvas. working away on the farm, mundane work, keeping busy. - trauma thoughts - on the way home stops past their friends coffee shop - of course they buy coffee for the girl behind them in line, god who isn’t pretty here?? walks her back to her hotel room- oKAY now it’s time to go home to make breakfast - god it’s nice to be loved -  thought it was my employees day off today? oh?? guess not - oh they don’t even have to be working in the cellar because chester already went so ott here and didn’t wanna do mORE - that’s okay, gonna get some wine and make busy work in the garden anyway  - wow everything hurts in the shower, but that’s usual - you know- it wAS really nice in the garden today. can’t keep that all to themselves - mid day booty call anyone?? - wow,,, someone responded- yea okay - mid afternoon naaaaps - they’re not there when he wakes back up, that’s okay - god, is he turning into his dad? - no, no i can’t be. god he’s poisoned them though - good thing there’s a bUSINESS MEETING TO DISTRACT - dressing up, going out- wow he hates how much he is just like his father though.... he really is.... - that goes well, got a new client in a big city, couple crates a week - gonna go celebrate - oop what’s that, we going back to the vineyard at 1am, soaked in alcohol and giggling. yeah fam

[adcvis]

julien .

Julien hums, an acknowledgment of the words spoken too softly, like the morning dew resting gently on the leaves of a beautiful plant. “I’ve noticed that, yeah,” he says just as softly. It’s crazy because his whole life, Julien has been cold. Missing love and the warmth of kind words that make you want to wake up to another day he’s found the coldness seeping deep into his bones all his life.

But this place makes him feel warm and the people in it are kind, for the most part. Kind just like this stranger standing in front of him. With soft black hair that curls just so into waves, with honest eyes that make Julien ache when he looks into them. There is so much of, well, everything inside the others’ gaze and Julien can understand that.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” Julien says upon thinking about the question for a bit. What hasn’t got him restless on such a morning? There are demons he can’t outrun, no matter how hard he tries and those demons don’t care that it’s a beautiful morning. They don’t ask if he’s feeling okay before they jump out and wrap their bloody hands around his throat. No, those demons just appear and start chasing him and sometimes Julien manages to outrun them. Sometimes, though, they get their claws into him and shred him to pieces.

And then surprise colors his features. “Oh,” he gasps, lips parting just slightly as the stranger begins unbuttoning their shirt. “I haven’t been here too long so I wouldn’t know. But I’ll trust your word,” he says and without thinking he pulls his own shirt over his body, the chilly morning air making him shiver just a bit.

“Can’t be that different from an ice bath, can it?”

Roman would learn warmth from the sun that beat down life into mornings, and caressed the dark skies with blue hues that broke into dawn. Fleeting they’d be, golden. They’d learn to glow as their hands calloused from carting wheelbarrows, and pruning plants in the yard. From watching the way it rises each morning as they feed the cows, and wrangle them to their paddocks. It would come so natural to them, those years learnt under a dawning horizon, when twilight still clung to the edges of the skies. It would whisper the truth of their nature into their being. For in these hours, Roman was ever just that- Roman.

They weren’t the charming smile learnt from their father, with sharp teeth and honeysuckle words. Or the poised perfection sculpted by their mother with marble floors that pressed cold to the touch. They weren’t the projection of desire. They were raw, and exposed. Nothing more than the subtle skin of a peach, ready to have teeth sunken into. They’d be bruised by the arm, where violence wrought them numb. And perhaps it made them so much more tender, as they walked away from the place the wonder if they’ll ever escape.

There’s almost the attempt to find the facade that warrants Roman perfect, but it’s too early in the morning for such things. And they can feel a bruise swelling on the back of their shoulder from where they collided with brick. And this boy, they’re staring back at, with the same mirrored melancholy didn’t deserve such lies.

Perhaps it would be nice to be truthful in front of a stranger. If only until the sun rises.

“I fear I only know to be myself before everyone’s awake.” Their words are playful leaving their lips, “It’s a good thing I always have work at these hours.” Roman’s eyes try not to linger as the stranger before them lifts their shirt over their head, but they can’t help but admire. Even briefly. As their own fingers finish their buttons, and drop their shirt to the sand before they shuffle from their jeans, and leave them behind, beginning to walk to the cool water’s edge.

They don’t move too far, so they can’t look back to the stranger. “Who are you before everyone’s awake?”

[adcvis]

fabian .

There’s something really intoxicating about the flashing lights of a club mixed with the suffocating atmosphere of too many bodies packed too closely together, topped off with music loud enough to burst one’s eardrums. He’s used to this and he loves it more than he loves the alcohol that usually tends to flow in places like this. Not more than he loves the little happy pills that get passed around, though.

One such pill is currently buzzing through his system at the moment and surely it’s with the help of it that Fabian is able to stand in Roman’s presence for more than a few moments. That and the intense need for destruction that always looms right underneath his skin, simmering in his blood. And right now Roman is standing right in the path of that destruction.

When their lips graze Fabian’s ear lightly, light enough that he almost doesn’t feel it, his hands clench into fists by his side. It’s interesting the kind of reaction something as small as that can have and if a shiver wants to race through Fabian’s body, no one has to know. “I don’t care enough to hate you,” Fabian says, voice void of any feeling. “But I know you hate me.”

Still, there was something different about this Roman and the one Fabian has had the displeasure of interacting with many times before. This Roman is alluring, not that before they hadn’t been, but tonight they are alluring in a way that pulls Fabian in. Beauty and grace and all that bullshit is something that bores Fabian half to death. This, though, this is interesting.

Fabian wants to laugh at the taunt but instead he just turns to move deeper into the heart of the club, following the throng of people, turning his just slightly to look at Roman. “You coming or are you just gonna stand there and watch?”  

"And tonight- we can drink to that.” Beneath the sky of everlasting blue, Roman would be brought to this world with desire carved into their every inch. By calloused hands, that sculpted- hungry. With resentment for something so beautiful. A reminder, constantly. The child would grow to be the echo of things that once could have been, and things that once were.

Bruises on their skin, where desperate hands grasp and grapple. They’d learnt a long time to call it love. The hunger in other’s eyes, as Roman lies themselves bare before them. For the wolves- wild and vicious to teach him where he could find his own teeth that glistened in the moonlight and beckoned those closer.

How he craved tenderness- but it was the hunger learnt from wolves that sculpted Roman, no matter how hard they tried to deny it.

It was always there, lurking beneath the surface of his charming words and poised smiles. Begging, to be freed. To paint the smile just like his fathers. On those days after he saw him, when Roman’s blood would boil, and his mouth tasted of copper. And there was no softness left in him. But he was never a wolf that would tear at others, sinking their sharp teeth into the plump flesh. No, they’d continue to tear at their own skin. Violence, and desire.

Devour me.

They’re quick to follow Fabi to the dance floor, stumble slightly in their step as they course against the waves of people that danced.  Destructive, it could have been called. The way they followed Fabian with the wolf in their throat, but they didn’t care the way they stood all too close to him as they danced. Colliding from the passing by bodies and could feel the other’s body pressed against his. Even if for that moment time. 

“Where’s your fire gone?”

[adcvis]

sophia .

Sofia could feel her face getting warm as she held back the growing smile on her face. Sure, she had been complimented before, but not like this, and even then, their compliments mattered more to her. Maybe because she valued their opinion more than anyone else’s, what with her being so close to them. “Oh stop…” she muttered, finishing putting away the rest of the items in the bags before she bunched all of the plastic bags up into a ball and tossed it in the cabinet under the sink, “You’re just saying that to be kind. Standing near me while painting is a hazard on your clothes, though. I promise I will absolutely cover you in paint by accident at least twice.”

A smile easily mirrors on their face as they’re met with the brightness that comes from Sohpia, as they continued to idly assist around the kitchen. Folding up the grocery bags, and leaning against the bench, watching the way the woman moved around the room. “It’s a good thing I don’t much mind a bit of decoration then.” As they spoke, Roman’s curiosity lead them over to the crafts back, beginning to look peak into the crevices and pull out some paints that rested on top. They’d start placing them on the bench, the vibrant colours sure to be a contrast against their white shirt.

“We can just start by painting me if you’d prefer. But we might have to make another trip for more paints if that’s the case.”

[adcvis]

leo .

@adcvis​

This was a mistake - Leo definitely knew that now. But that’s what he got for allowing Alexis to drag him to this club, right? She always told him he needed to get out more - get out of his apartment, get out of his routine. In this moment, he regretted ever listening to her. As soon as they had walked into the club, he had lost track of her. It took him another ten minutes of wandering from ugly themed room to ugly themed room before deciding that he had had enough “getting out” for one day. He wanted to go home and roll out his legs with a tennis ball ( one of the purest experiences of bliss that someone could experience). It was reasonably packed inside of the space and all of the bodies in tight confines contributed generously to the warmth of the room. It didn’t take long until he was damp with sweat. He couldn’t just leave Alexis though? He sent her a text and grabbed a seat by the bar to wait it out. What was an appropriate amount of time to wait on someone before you were allowed to just leave? He eyed the people moving the dance floor with disinterest as he mulled over the issue.

There was a hunger that gnawed away at the picturesque person, that learnt the smile of sinners and poise marble statues that painted the dead. Some days because of it they longed to dissolve into the Egyptian blues of the morning light, where they could be weightless and unknown. When they allowed hands to find the bruises on their shins, and nectarine juice stained their chin. Other days it coursed inside them, and made their teeth glisten, reflecting lights. In mirrors they’d see not themselves, but the creature that carved them. Charming.

And the longing that ached inside them, turning their tongue to ash and clawing at their throat with desires. The club was their home these nights, the intoxicating euphoria that came from a suffocating air and pressed bodies in dim light. They’d been there for quite some time, with alcohol coursing through their veins, and their words like saccharine honey. “Been stood up?” The question danced on their tone, eyes dancing with amusement as they push themselves next to the bar. “I know just the medicine for that.”

[moonbirdy]

You’re in her dms I’m in her field of wildflowers where we lay together on a blanket eating fresh-picked strawberries while the sunshine sings us to sleep we are not the same

[adcvis]

sophia .

@adcvis​

Sofia walked into her tiny island home, the white walls and the wood awning and the blue painted door. The bags of groceries and arts and crafts supplies were overwhelming, but at least she had a friend with her, her very own support system to be there for her. Once she’d opened the door, she immediately turned the corner to the kitchen and dropped the bags on the table. “You can just put the other bags here or on the counter, if there’s no more room,” she directed them before she dug in to pull out the perishables to the fridge, “Thanks, again, for your help, hun. You really don’t have to stay and watch me poorly paint these wooden frames and unevenly glue chalk board pieces to them, if you don’t want to.”

Roman easily carried through the groceries, and bags of odd sorts they only got to see in peakings through the holes in the objects that dared peer through to the ones beneath it. A clash of colour was all they could catch, as they placed the bags on the counter and began unpacking her to help. It was a familiar nature, one they’d long since done with another person. Their mother was always specific, fruits in the bowls, meats in the freezers unless of course they were for dinner that night. They’d slowly start placing things down, one by one.

“You know I’d love to see you poorly paint more than anything else in the world. I can help if you want. You may even look talented next to me.”

[adcvis]

arlo .

@adcvis​ !

     DRINKING IN KAOS is kind of dangerous, mostly because every day feels like a holiday and there’s always a reason to celebrate. whether it’s a celebration of love, life, or just a nice evening, arlo loves the energy that seems to shake the whole island. it’s dangerous for him, because arlo looks for any reason to go out and have a good night of drinking. even more dangerous for him, because he occasionally lets himself get plastered with roman. the pair are good friends, having dated for a summer a while ago and since then, having been on-and-off but pretty casual all around. beyond all of that, arlo considers roman to be a good friend, someone he’s comfortable with. needless to say, he hasn’t slept with roman in some time but he’s thankful for the fact that their connection clearly didn’t depend on that.

but arlo is depending on roman currently, arm draped over the other’s shoulders as they stumble out of the beach bar at some ungodly hour of the night. like, to the point that the bartender is kicking them out because they’re closing, and arlo can’t see straight. he’s just humming, laughing to himself as he rests his head on roman’s shoulder. “i don’t know–” his words are slurred like a bunch of legato notes. “i don’t know why they’ve got to close.” his statement is confident and his voice sweet, delicate. he laughs and gives his shoulder a shrug. “like–” he blinks a few times and tries to turn back to look at the establishment from behind but he stumbles a bit. “i don’t know why they had to stop drinking.” he giggles. “i mean– i don’t know why they had to stop serving.”

A sodden moon caresses their shoulders, and paints the scene of the foolish youth- intoxicated on fermented fruits that stained their lips and soaked their breaths. Drowned in sweet alcohol, there wasn’t a care in the world. For tonight, they were immortal. Gods that blessed this island, with their golden veins, and flowery words. In crumpled linen shirts, and hair dishevelled from the hour. 

Roman was certain they could live this night forever, even if in their memories. Until the dawn blue would break through the scattered constellations in the sky. Nothing quite seemed real. It never seemed to with Arlo.

Perched upon each other for support, the two are intwined limbs as they stumble the streets. Roman was in no better condition to offer Arlo assistance home, yet they still came when he called. A laugh gentle on their lips, picks up in the night breeze that warms the two. Or perhaps that was the alcohol that coursed through their bodies and numbed their fingertips. 

“They feared if you stayed, there wouldn’t be any left to serve tomorrow.” There’s a tease to their tone, as they turn to face the other in their steps. A mistake albeit, that lead them to trip and grab to Arlo for stabilisation before they could continue. “Besides these tired eyes of yours seem to want to find a place to rest.”

[adcvis]

task 009 .

roman counter part - adonis

‘To wail his death who lives and must not die. Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind! For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.’ (W. Shakespeare,Venus and Adonis, 1017-1020) 

[adcvis]

fabian . 

And he can’t help it, he laughs. Because truthfully, it wouldn’t be the first time his drink had been spiked with something meant to hurt him. He remembers college all too clearly and while it had been a fun time, there had also been that time someone had hated him so much they’d dropped something in his drink that had landed Fabian in the hospital for a week. Still, he held no grudges. “You’re not wrong about that.”

He takes one of the shots of tequila and throws it back, relishing the way it burns his throat in the exact way he’s craving right now. “Because you fucking hate me, in case you forgot,” he says though he’s sure they don’t need a fucking reminder. He’s incredibly sure Fabian’s presence is reminder enough.

“Dance?” He raises a curious eyebrow, eyeing Roman up and down. Though he’d come in here with the goal to forget for a while and if that came with some company then so be it, he hadn’t meant for that company to be Roman, of all people. “I’m Spanish. You’d be embarrassed on the dance floor because you’d pale in comparison to me.”

He could see it, the destruction that stirred deep in the other. Like the hunger that nestled in the being that was Roman, and clawed at their insides until they pulled apart their ribs and flesh. And bared themselves to the world. Devour me. Fabian had a plague that beat at his cage. Something more than the hunger that hollowed out Roman, for this man had destruction in his veins. A poison that would fill him, until he was bursting at the seams that held him together. Normally he’d turn it to the world, the ships that dared cross the sea at night. Debris he’d cause. 

But it was far from there tonight. Like the calm before a storm, there was an unease caused by the settling in his nature. 

They’d down one of the shots that rested on the bar, and lean in even closer to whisper to Fabian’s ear. Their lips barley grazing, like a gentle breath, as they spoke. “But I don’t think you hate me.”

Perhaps it was the same intoxication that slurred his words, or perhaps the thing that begged to be freed that lead Roman to provoke such a creature as Fabian. Like a fool, wading out into the open waters, against the rising waves. They begged to be destroyed.

Then they’d laugh, the challenge seeming almost childish from the other. Where venom normally coaxed his tongue didn’t quite seem there. So Roman spoke again, their words stumbling on one another. “I could never be anything but bright in comparison to you. I think I’d like to see you try though.”

[adcvis]

agata .

Roman’s question rang through Ágata’s head. Why was she here? Why did she insist on torturing herself by immersing in a setting that just wasn’t for her? Call it loyalty, but the blonde just couldn’t bring herself to leave her friends behind. She’d promised to see the festivities through, but it was becoming much more of a chore than she’d like to bear. Besides, they had no problem ditching her by the bar to get wild for the hundredth time, so why should she stick around? Especially, when they probably wouldn’t even notice her absence anyways.

“I suppose it’s because I was hoping to fulfill a promise. But you’re right, gazing at the stars sounds much more enjoyable.” She replies, mindlessly toying with the straw to her practically untouched cocktail. Peering at them curiously as they stand up, she glances at the hand they offer then back up at them hesitantly. “Never?” She questions with curiosity, finally taking hold of of his hand while she rose from her own seat. “I would like that very much, actually. Although, I don’t believe it will be difficult to find somewhere I might enjoy. I’d just like to be anywhere other than here.” She admitted with a small smile. “I don’t know of any places that are open at this hour since I’m still fairly new to the island, but I’m sure we can find something.”

“Why don’t you make me a promise then, in case you still need to fulfil one.” There’s a softness to Roman that can be found under the harshness to their features that could paint them in a stoic light. Like a picturesque statue, with life breathed into its veins. Ichor blessed. He’d come alive, even in the blue wash that drowned anything which dared to bathe in it.  “You must help a friend find food in this hour, else I might starve and there’ll be nothing left when they come to find me in the morning. Nothing but marrow and bone.”

Easily does Ágata’s hand fit into their own, as they assist her to stand from the stool. “Never,” They repeat with a certainty that came from intoxication and dizzying breaths. “Kaos, no one could every be alone.” It was easy to say such things, with a warmth in their chest that spread through their body. Numbing their fingers at the tips, and broadening their smile. “Surely someone like you knows not of loneliness.”

They begin leading Ágata from the club, swerving through the crowd like they’d done a thousand time over until they’re met with the cool night air hitting their body. A breeze lifted from the water, everything smells like salt and blossoming flowers. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust from the harsh light as they turn back to the blonde.  “I think I know a place where we can sit under the stars at this hour, should still be serving. Just about a block over.”

[adcvis]

vini .

       MAYBE IT IS too early in the morning to be visiting a vineyard, but Vinícius tells himself there will be a large variety of products, not only wine. The excuse is good enough for him to believe it, at least, but there’s no reason for him not to indulge a little bit. He hasn’t been taking any medicine since the end of the semester at university, and a few glasses shouldn’t cause him harm. But, in truth, the drink is secondary. He enjoys simply being close to nature, away from all the noise and information present everywhere in the big cities.

       “Good morning,” he greets, smiling at the other as he closes the door behind him. The warm, friendly reception is surprising, but it encourages Vinícius to play along. “I guess it must be my lucky day, ‘cause that’s exactly why I came over.” He has barely walked in, and he can no longer say he got in the taxi only to chase after the beautiful scenery if he’s already being offered wine. “And here I was, afraid you’d look at me weird for drinking before noon.”

Roman’s something bright within the darkly decorated cellar, beaming with the warmth of the outside sun amongst the wood, and wine bottles that adorn the brick walls. Yet they blend so natural here, in this decor that was made for them. But such a thing as blending was easy for Roman in a place like Kaos. The island shaped him, carved from the stone pillars and painted with her earth. 

“You know what they say, it’s ten am somewhere.” They place the bottle on the nearest surface, and move around like second nature to grab another glass before pouring. “Or did I get that saying wrong? I never can quite remember.” There’s something jovial to their nature this morning, or perhaps this was always the way when they manned the shop front. “It’s always good to see a face this hour of the morning, in before the crowds.” Making their way across to the stranger, they hand the glass over, and hold it up for a cheers.

“I’m Roman, always here to encourage before noon drinking.”