"I still don't get why they confiscated the watercolors... everything's roped off or covered with glass anyways. They really think I'm about to try and... paint watery pigment on a dinosaur bone? Or an old piece of a Roman vase?"
Maybe he's just ticked he can't sit and paint. But that means he can concentrate on all the beautiful ancient pieces. Spend more time taking in the Frescos and mosaics, intricate masks...
"...What's your favorite part of a history museum anyways, love?" He nudges her shoulder with his own. "They always have some... very odd caveman display. 's probably my favorite. They always have the worst, crudely made faces too."
Closed Starter: for @ariaboughton
Location: 12/31/24, the bar at the Top of the Standard
He sidles up to the bar, seeing the woman there. Mars has never spoken to her, but he's definitely seen her. It takes a moment to place. "You're Silas's friend, aren't you?" He smiles, shaking his head. "Ah, sorry babes, is that a bit weird to come in on?" Mars leans his arms against the counter. "I don't get to talk to a lot of his friends. How are you? I'm Mars."
CLOSED STARTER for @ariaboughton.
LOCATION / SETTING: Pink Flamingo, nighttime.
After remaining effectively cooped up in his apartment for the past three days, rapidly finishing up his work to beat the looming deadline, Silas has gone stir crazy. Naturally, to recuperate, he heads for a lively club to drink, flirt without consequence, and live. Solitude rarely did someone like him any good.
He's nothing short of delighted when he spots a familiar face.
"G'day, mate," he says with a slightly exaggerated accent as he plops down next to Aria at the bar. Aussie solidarity and such. "Thought I recognized your face, illuminated by neon light," with a wave of his hand for dramatic effect. How poetic of him.
It's probably been a bit longer than Gus would've liked, but he's not about to complain or bother Aria when he's sure she's busy. Hell, he's been busy too. Classes and freelance interpreting take it out of him and he's no longer the younger, svelte FBI agent running around the city any more. He's got scars, and chronic fatigue, and essays to grade. So many essays.
He's sat himself in the coffeeshop and set his bag to the side, before shooting a text to Aria that he's there. It's only a few minutes of waiting before he sees her walking in and beams. "Ahh, there she is!" He can't hide his excitement as he gets himself up as she gets closer to the table, holding out arms for her to come into. "I've missed you, honey. How are you doing? How are things? I ordered our coffees already, they should be ready in a minute or two."
They mix together inside him like oil and water. Asa's heart is thumping and his stomach is turning and he's trying to put on actual clothes, and look somewhat presentable, and figure out what on earth to say when she arrives. Water on for the kettle.
A look in the bathroom mirror, and he swallows thickly. He has new scars she hasn't seen - his chest, his right hand. And he looks... different. A bit more gaunt, a little more manic, perhaps. He's sure she's changed too.
He's holding Starla more-so for his own comfort rather than the poor calico's, when he hears the knock.
It's both the most amazing feeling in the world, and the worst, to pull it open. Starla stays cradled against his chest all the while.
"Aria."
Christ, the tears are going to be immediate, aren't they? He feels them already. Feels raw at the edges. Under a magnifying glass and about to be burned. But he deserves it.
"Come in. Please. I'm... I've got water going. For tea, um." All he can do is move back, and let her inside. He wants to reach out but he won't. He can't.
Location: New York Aquarium
Status: Closed ( @ariaboughton )
The idea had stemmed from realizing that they had fallen into a 'coffee date' rut. Not to say it wasn't fun, but considering Aria was Asa's best friend, it felt like they should level up their outings on occasion. The aquarium seemed perfect, and the local library had free tickets. Asa had snatched them up immediately.
He's excited to get out of his flat, honestly. He's spent the past few days finishing up paperwork and contracts for the publishing deal and there's been too many phone calls and emails to respond to. Overwhelming conversations that had really tested his social limit.
But now it's a beautiful, warm day and he's got his bag with his paints and sketchbook and markers and pens. He's dressed somewhat casually (for Asa) and he and Aria have already grabbed coffee on the walk over. "If I said I've never been to an aquarium... how would you feel about that?" Asa asks as they step into the atrium after getting their tickets ripped and being handed a fold-out map. "Not that I haven't wanted to... I sometimes feel weird walking about in big public spaces where people normally go with friends, I suppose?" He can't disguise his excitement, though, as he sees the big tanks against the walls.
Send ✉ for a written letter from my muse. - for aria, pre everything (or an unsent letter tbh)
You don’t deserve this.
And I don’t know if I’ll live long enough to tell you I’m sorry. But I am. For whatever the fuck has happened to put us in this situation- I could not be more sorry, Aria. All you’ve done is accept me, take care of me, and be there for me when so many others weren’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
I was drinking coffee today. I remembered that time you came over to watch movies, and I spilled a mug of coffee on my lap. And I shouted ‘HOT FUCKER’ out of surprise and you wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. Kept saying my flat smelled like coffee. Asked me if I’d met any good ‘hot fuckers’ recently - for weeks! Until I threatened to keep bringing up that time you nearly pissed yourself watching that shit movie… I can’t remember what it’s called. You know the one.
There’s a lot I want to tell you. I wish it were as simple as making bullet points, but every topic has about five hundred subsets and will bring up so many questions. It won’t answer anything.
It’s alright. I don’t think they’re going to kill you. That’s good. That’s amazing. You need to live - your work is phenomenal, inspiring. People deserve to see it. I think you’ll be okay. Different, but okay.
Please please be okay.
I can accept the knife if that happens. It’s not so bad- it’ll just go deeper this time.
I miss you, love. You’ve made me feel somewhat normal in this hellhole. Like im worth something. Like I’m needed. Please know you’re worth so much.
