#perdurant

[batfall-moved]

 DAYLIGHT   ,   he   feels    EXPOSED    as    he   steps    out   in   the   city.   he   had   KNOWN   that   allowing   himself   to   TRANSITION   into   bruce   wayne   would    be   DIFFICULT   at   BEST,  what   he  didn’t   expect   was   the   ANXIETY  ,   knowing   that   this   SKIN   felt  foreign,   that   every    part  of   his   being   wanted   nothing   more   than    to   HIDE  OUT   in    WAYNE   TOWER.   𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑    𝚝𝚑𝚎    𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢    𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳𝚂    𝚑𝚒𝚖,   𝚊𝚗𝚍    𝚑𝚎    𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢    𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑.  the  sounds   LOUD   and   intrusive   as   he   makes   his   way   to    someone   who   can    HELP   him.   there   are   paintings,    the   museum   has   been   calling   WEEKLY   asking  him   to    release   archives   that   would   benefit   their   collection.   

he’s   been   given  a  name,   ALFRED   kind   to   help   out.    paintings   have  already   been   delivered   to   a    restoration    expert.    the   walk   isn’t   far   but   it   FEELS   as   if   it’s   been    hours.    eyes   avert    upwards   as     WHISPERS   can   be   heard,   the   streets  THEMSELVES   stunned   that   he   has   graced   them   with   his  presence.    FINALLY    he    arrives ,   door  is   pushed   open,   and    𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕    𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.   ‘   i   think   you’ve   been  waiting   for   me   . . .   there   were   some   paintings  sent   this   way  ’  @perdurant​​ 

[blindsite-a]

when the news made it back to him that  @perdurant​  had returned to london sometime in the last few months,   it was as though it relit the dimmed passion to figure her out.   to figure this whole web surrounding him and her ...  binding them together.   they continue to weave circles around each other.  his coworkers told him to drop it many times,  but he can’t now.  something draws him in.   something he doesn’t yet know and intends to find out.   

he gathered his things from his desk and shoved badge into his pocket along with his glasses hastily.   eyebrows were raised at him from behind their computer screens.   that was the only reaction he garnered anymore.   they were used to him  —  his antics.  

when he arrives outside of the nostos gallery,  he stills himself for a moment.   shaw needed to catch his breath or he’d look like a maniac and even with a badge security wouldn’t let him in.   finally,   a hand smooths over his hair and tugs at his collar before walking into the building.   he speaks to the front desk clerk,  shows his badge.   someone comes to lead him to the gallery where he presumes she is.   and he’d be right.   she was standing in front of a new display they were installing.  overseeing progress,   he’d guess. 

❛ ah,  thank you, ❜   a remark of requisite gratitude given gruffly to the person who escorted him before he shifted focus,   ❛ ms.  gatti,   apologies for interrupting,  but i had to see for m’self that you’d returned.  i couldn’t quite believe it. ❜

[foxenhund]

@perdurant​,  continued   ...   from here.

sherlock traces the spine of coincidence   :      meetings in strange lands,  where both could pass as unfriendly nomads     (     they had met in the heat of summer,   which only felt fair now that england winter had come to claim them with too cold winds and the devastating sprinkle of rain      ).    there are very few lasting things for sherlock   ...   he runs away too quickly to be held in one place.    but there are old haunts that are as familiar to him as his own skin.     his cheek rests upon one now,   the sharp curve of her shoulder matching the swoop of his back.   there is a significant distance between them,    but the ache of boredom lets his body twist with ease.

‘‘     one of us,  i fear,   must stay awake.      ’’       the bus will be delayed.   already,  the lamps flicker above them,   casting imperfect light upon the growing puddles     (     rain stops the entirety of london in its tracks,   which is rather inconvenient,   considering the frequency with which the skies open up and hell itself pours down in a cold drizzle     ).     the excitement of the past week has kept him awake,   but his strings have been cut now   :       he can barely muffle the yawn that leaves him.      she is warm and soft beneath the pressure of his body,     a very nice swap for a pillow.     ‘‘    let’s draw straws.   ah,  or something more fair     ⁠———    the first one to run out of types of bees must stay awake.   i’ll start   :     the hairy - footed flower bee.     ’’

[serendpitous-a]

@perdurant  said  .  .  .   “  if  you  don’t  ask  for  something,  you  can’t  just  expect  it  to  happen.  ”

        “  right! that’s exactly what i told her!  ”  elle exclaims, for almost the whole salon to hear as she carefully makes her move from the pedicure chair to her manicurist’s desk. each step she takes is mapped out as she tries to determine the best route to take so that her freshly painted toes aren’t ruined in the process. that’d be a huge waste of two coats of opi’s aphrodite’s pink nightie! 

    once she safely makes it to her destination, she looks back toward her mina, letting out a sigh. “ although, i don’t know if that really applies to the rules of evidence. disclosure of that kind is like, kind of mandatory. but for life situations? you’ve always got to be direct about what you want.  ”

[dunnitmoved]

❛   if we ever get married   –––   ❜   he poses the question so casually, he might as well have been thinking up of the next chords of a song he may have been writing. alas, blanc was not much of a songwriter, and calculated even the way he paid more attention to picking at the chords of his instrument than her.   ❛  would i have to be lord croft or could i simply be lord blanc? or be a lord at all, i suppose.  ❜   in which case, he'd abandon the thought altogether, but that wasn't yet so obvious. 

@perdurant​

[wavebraek]

@perdurant​

     ig looks down at his tie, then to winston who looks very pained, and then back to his mum. what could possibly be the matter? it’s just a tie. isn’t it? well. it’s blue and has little pink flamingoes on it; his friends said it would show off his personality and surely oxford won’t tell him no just because of a tie. 

       “i’ve got to change the tie, haven’t i?” 

[enduranted]

@perdurant​

it is devilishly easy to spot her amongst the flotsam and jetsam of the ship’s passengers; as rabble disperse this way and that way, werner just barely manages to avoid being knocked into the drink itself. carriages and carts are toted away by mysterious looking men in large overalls; there are all sorts of animals in cages being sloped off the edge of the dock and towards the newly emptied cargo hold; above, egyptian gulls pick at food from the fish markets lining the very edge of the waterline. 

        “  lara!  “    he calls over the din, one hand stuck straight up in the air in a wave.     “  welcome to egypt!  “

[naturetorn]

killing eve prompts  \  @perdurant  -  accepting,  mutuals only    ↳   ' language is information. and information is everything. '

it’s an interesting take on  knowledge is power.  when someone speaks of power,  people tend to feel uneasy,  as if only the worst kind would even think to mention it,  let alone want it.  information is everything  seems easier to agree with,  she supposes,  leaves it up to interpretation.  but ivy understands,  everything means exactly that.  everything.

unfortunately,  her studies haven’t included languages for decades now ;  her parents put her in a couple of different courses when she was young but she dropped them quickly once she identified her true passion.  most of it has stuck,  for which she’s thankful,  but none of it gets much practice.  pamela only ever needs english.

and then there’s the green.  she speaks that too,  though it’s so much more than a language.  she wants to mention it,  use it to explain why she agrees with the other,  but after so many years of trying to describe it she knows not to risk it.  most people’s knowledge of her stays in arkham doesn’t help her credibility,  and yet  ----  

    they’re so far away from gotham,  or anything even resembling that concrete monstrosity.  jungle for miles in any given direction.  here people care for nature and know her only as someone who comes to help when the earth seems to be in trouble,  if she even shows her face at all.  she’s not poison ivy,  or pamela isley,  she’s just a woman  ( she keeps the green skin under wraps,  prefers to blend in ).

    “ you must have a lot of information then,  I heard you speaking before and you seem to know the language incredibly well -- ”  her gaze on the other is focused but not unkind,  “ -- you make it look so easy,  I’ve only been able to learn a few basic words during my time here. ”