#basil lives!au

[humblestudentofbeauty]

Let Our Illusions Die || Mike (et al.) and Basil

@houseofswords

He couldn’t look at the thing… not any longer.  Couldn’t listen to the man he cared for speaking like he’d lost his mind.  Basil needed to think… needed air that wasn’t musty and damp… needed to figure out what he could do to save his friend.  The artist turned to leave the attic, but when Dorian called his name he made the split second decision to turn back.

It was only that last minute choice which saved his life.  As he turned, he saw Dorian’s hand swinging down.  With no time to block it, he turned a fraction faster and a palette knife (undoubtedly meant for his neck) plunged into his shoulder instead.  Crying out, Basil stumbled backwards.  What was happening…?  This… it couldn’t be real!  Dorian wouldn’t…

Shaking legs carried the artist further from the other man until his back struck the attic wall. His vision went hazy around the edges. Everything felt incoherent… like a dream.  Yes, definitely a dream - not a side effect of shock or the beginnings of blood loss - just a nightmare he’d wake up from any minute now…

'Stop fooling yourself and get out!’ something within him screamed.  'Don’t give him a chance to try again!’ For the first time in a long time Basil listened to his instincts… and fled.  He didn’t make it far… barely to the main staircase when he felt hands on him.  No!  Through the pain and fear, Basil fought back… and Dorian fell, tumbling down the stairs until he landed with a sickening crack on the marble floor below.  He spared no concern for his would-be murderer, fleeing out the door and into the night.

The artist’s mind raced with all Dorian had said.  Immortality?!  It could barely be believed, and yet...  He couldn’t worry about that now.  He needed help!  There was so much blood… both his shirt and jacket clung to his skin on the right side and he was having trouble focusing.  Up ahead, Basil thought he saw a shadowed figure.  “P-please,” he stammered, trying to raise his voice.  “Please... I need help...!”  The world tilted beneath his feet and the man stumbled into the nearby wall, slamming his injured shoulder hard enough that he saw stars.  “A doctor... the police...”

[humblestudentofbeauty]

Every Imperfection ~ Thomas & Basil

@ofjustinian

The artist was in shock, his mind still trying to process what has just happened.  Fingers occasionally reached up to brush over his lips, recalling the memories of Dorian’s party.  He’d never expected...not that he hadn’t wanted...

Oh, god...how he’d wanted!

But not like that.  Not as a conquest...not as some trifle to make him forget about the painting.  That DAMNED painting!  Why was the other being so stubborn about the whole thing?!  He couldn’t think straight...needed a good drink and a friendly ear.  So Basil headed to the place where he was at least certain of the friend...if not the drink.

As he strode up to the apothecary’s store, the dark-haired man knew how out of place he must look in his party finery, but he didn’t care.  Reaching for the door, it opened, and he stared for a moment in surprise at Thomas Clayton - the friend he’d come to see...and the owner of the shop in question.

“T-thomas...my apologies for appearing on your doorstep so late.  Something’s h-happened and I...well, I suppose I needed someone to talk to...to help me make sense of...”  He shook his head.  “I’m not entirely certain I’m thinking clearly.  Do you have time tonight to t-talk with me tonight...?”

[humblestudentofbeauty]

The First Step ~ Dorian & Basil

@tothedevilsalter

{ Alright, I'm using pg.115 of The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe, published by Barnes and Noble.  The short story is called 'Metzengerstein' and the quote is, "It was with difficulty that he reconciled his dreamy and incoherent feelings with the certainty of being awake." }

He couldn't look at the thing...not any longer.  Couldn't listen to the man he cared for speaking like a mad man.  Basil needed to think...needed air that wasn't musty and damp...needed to figure out what he could do to save his friend.  The artist turned to leave the attic, but when Dorian called out his name he made the split second decision to turn back around.

In hindsight, if he hadn't, things might've gone very differently.  It was only that last minute choice that saved his life.  As he turned, he saw Dorian's hand swinging down.  With no time to block it, he turned a fraction faster and a piece of glass (undoubtedly meant for his neck) plunged into his shoulder instead.  Crying out, Basil stumbled backwards.  What was happening...?  This...it couldn't be real.  Dorian wouldn't...

'Oh god...please let me be dreaming.'

Shaking legs carried the artist further from the other man until his back struck the attic wall. His vision went hazy around the edges. Everything felt incoherent...like a dream.  Yes, definitely a dream - not a side effect of shock or loss of blood - just a nightmare he'd wake up from any minute now...

'Stop fooling yourself and get out!' something within him screamed.  'Don't give him a chance to try again!'  For the first time in a long time Basil listened to his instincts...and fled.  He didn't make it very far.  How could he?  At some point his foot slipped out from under him on a stair, and he went tumbling the rest of the way to the bottom.  His head struck the ground once and he had just enough time to realize he probably wouldn't be waking up again when everything went dark.