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allvrcs

There was a raised brow when her new company had replied. Who would have thought the golden boy himself would be standing beside her, trying to make this event the most perfect it could be. She respected him for the way he would present himself. Even with a manufactured mind, she understands the human difficulty of remaining the same. She wonders if he ever has dark moments. He has to. Gold might not rust over but she’s fairly confident there’s parts inside of him covered in cobwebs. Humans are tainted creatures, whether they like it or not. She hopes he’s tainted, too. It’s a part that makes them beautiful.

After her gaze shifts up his person, then back down, she turns back to the screen. “To my understanding, slideshows seem often used at far different places of celebration than one of death.” he raises her hand. “Here we stand, looking at photographs of happy men and women, in costume or out. There’s somber music to try and make us feel an emotion that we wish to feel freely on our own. No one likes being told how to feel. It reminds me of…” she fades off, snapping her fingers when she remembers, “Those videos on television, with the sad dogs.” June points towards him. “Except this is far more unsettling.”

she sips more of her champagne, looking back at the golden boy. “I’m not sure if you knew an of these people, or spent much time with them. I feel as though they deserve better than to have their loss be heavy handed.” she shrugs. “Though I’ve misunderstood human nature before, I could be entirely wrong once again.”

Blair did his best to listen attentively, the importance of maintaining the composure, the facade of it all was always present, a looming threat on the corners of his mind. June wasn’t human. Blair had the sense enough to tell that, but somewhere in that code that dictated his actions and movements during these things, there was respect. Respect for strangers, regardless of their humanity. And so he listened, nodding at the appropriate moments.

“Have you considered that these people should be remembered as more than the dead? That we, as their friends and coworkers, should see their faces as they were, at their best, rather than at their worst?” Blair proposed, hands lightly moving to emphasize his points, dancing as gracefully as hands can. “It’s important we see them at their best, while we remember their sacrifice.”

“That’s why the music is so somber,” Blair continued, passion and honesty practically bleeding from his skin. “It is a serious occasion, after all, and it would be wrong... No, it would be ignorant of us to play anything else. It would dishonor those we’re here to pay tribute to.” A pause. “Does that make sense?”

As he waited for a reply, he slowed his breathing, calmed his thoughts. Some could mistake for passion, and it was. But not for what they expected. It was not the passion, the love, that arose from caring for others, but rather the kind that stems from telling a lie so perfect, the universe has no choice but to believe it.

#i dont live with the past anymore (interactions)#june 001 #mechanical heart (june)#spot the agent of asgard reference haha

fauxribs

OPEN

THERE WAS NO ESCAPING the tense energy he sensed. it seemed to be coating every inch of the room like an uncomfortable hug, a heavy fog, easy to embody like a virus. one might think, perhaps after attending more than once, you’d start to get in the swing of things. feeling, talking, looking .. but ox quickly found that there was no getting used to the dead. this year more than ever felt like something unnatural to him.

“this.. doesn’t feel right,” did it ever? he’s waving a small, plastic dish back and forth between his fingers, keeping himself busy. he watches intently as tiny crumbs slide along the smoothness of its circular shape, “don’t you think we should be doing more? more than sitting around eating this — this.. finger food.” he didn’t intend for it to come out as a question — the small sausages wrapped in dough weren’t half bad now that he thinks of it, “..they say it’s finger food, but isn’tALL FOOD finger food? are some meals meant to be eaten with our eyes? our feet?” there’s misplaced frustration in the words, so much that he can hardly feel warmed from the conversational unity that usually came along with saying ours. honestly, he’s probably just occupying the time; the space between one unanswered silence to the next, but as soon as his impulses come, they’re repressed in some way. a breath, a shake of his head, replaced with that same itchy silence. mending endlessly with the soft, muttering soundtrack of the room.

his mouth presses shut, a glance towards the screen, a somber slideshow in place. an exhale emits through his nostrils as he turns to the one stood beside him, and there’s a pause before he speaks; he’s studying their face, “you’re not listening to a word i’m saying, are you?”

He leaned against the pillar with a small plate in his hands, untouched food resting upon it. He was alone and without a facade, and so as Ox shifted and squirmed between each sentence he said, Blair did nothing. He did not acknowledge Ox just as he refused to eat the things on that plate. Trapped as he was between a wall and an overly-chatty individual, there was only one thing to do, and so Blair idly brought one sausage into the air before bringing it back down.

That process was repeated time and time again with each item on the plate, up and down, up and down went the food. Fine control over something like gravity was hard at the best of times and it was made even more difficult by the incessant drone from Blair’s side. It did require focus in spades, and so that drone became nothing more than white noise. That perpetual motion was harder to ignore, though Blair did his best.

It was only when that question was asked that Blair looked up from his plate. Snatching the sausage out of the air, he turned to fully face Ox, grinning. “You might be out of this world,” Blair began with an appreciative scan down Ox’s body, “Literally. But you are boring as hell.” He shrugged, popping the sausage into his mouth and chewing it, a look of vague disgust as he processed the flavors.

“I would love to talk with you, honestly. I’m sure your perspective is beautiful and as stunning as your arrival on our planet was. But if you can’t stop moving and start making sense in a way that doesn’t make me want to crush whatever serves as your voice box with gravity so strong even you couldn’t survive it, I recommend we start at the beginning, hm?”

Blair held out his hand. “I’m Blair Frelsari.” He smiled. “I’m sure you know that. For the sake of this, let us pretend you didn’t make the most public entrance into the spotlight this world had ever seen and let’s say I don’t know a thing about you.” That smile grew in radiance, charm practically pouring off of him. “Who are you?”

#i dont live with the past anymore (interactions)#starlit man (ox)#ox 001 #event 001

allvrcs

Time: 7:32pm Place: Recreational Hall Reason for arrival: Uncertain

there’s a reason to put on a gown and to observe humanity in it’s most raw form. of course the prospect of it would draw june in like a moth to a light.

she’s been holding onto her champagne flute for a while now. the bubbly nature still captivates her and she tastes the bitterness and the burn at her throat when she sips, but she knows that there will be no affect to her drinking it. it doesn’t matter, she enjoys the experience of participating in human culture. so she stands among the crowd, knowing some people might recognize features of her face. they stay far away, and she knows why. she doesn’t spark conversation, merely listens and observes to others. it’s a dreary thing to be part of, but it seems that people are still holding back in their conversation. It’s a bit surprising, she would think they value the celebration of life. yet maybe, with this group of people, things are a bit different.

her head turns to watch a screen scroll past different photos. it’s easy to tell what it is; the quiet somber music, the joyful pictures scrolling past. they’re no longer among the living and her respect goes out to those who lost their lives fighting for something bigger than them. she feels someone beside her, and holding her flute to her chest, she glances to her side.

“don’t you think this is a bit… tonally insensitive?

The faces on the screen were happier than the ones in the room, but even the somber atmosphere was unable to damper the smile on Blair’s face. It was golden, radiant, and manufactured entirely for the press. He had tucked himself away, surrounded by big names with bigger wallets. Blair was there for a reason, after all, and even while paying his and the government’s respects to the fallen, he still was doing his best to attract donors and support for whatever new program he was representing today.

He didn’t actually know what it was he was prompting but the words still flowed like golden honey from his lips and they seemed to be loving it. And so when he had their word, one tied to the green they practically overflowed with, he excused himself, champagne in hand. One goal down, the other? To look pretty, to look sad, to play the roll of dejected mourner.

For once, it wasn’t hard. He knew the faces, if not personally, than by reputation. It was almost impossible to look away from the screen. It always was in these situations. Something about grief was transfixing, one was almost afraid that to look away would imply they didn’t care. And Blair did genuinely care. Somewhere.

It was the question that pulled him from his rather frantic search for those aforementioned cares, and he turned, eyebrow raised. “Tonally insensitive?” Blair repeated, eyebrow practically soaring off his face. “This isn’t exactly a party. Ma’am,” he added on, remembering just who he was while he was here. He needed to be golden, and that’s what compelled him to ask, “Are you lost? Perhaps I can assist you if you are?” Blair smiled, extending a hand. “And if you aren’t, would you be willing to do me a favor and explain how you perceive this to be insensitive?” HIs hand moved to his heart, and, with sincerity practically pouring from his lips, he continued, “I want to make this the best it can be, for those we’re honoring. And if event staff will listen to anyone, they’ll listen to me.”