milliways_bar | (no subject)

Well, look at that.

Not even so much look, but catch the blend of scents, the coffee, the spices, and underneath that the fainter notes of paper and ink, and under that the even fainter hint of summer...

And look at this--one pale, snake-tongued pirate approaching, looking sharp in his silver-buttoned black finery, with his cutlass and flintlock once more.

"Keeping busy, I see," he says with a smile, though he has to lean in to whisper.

To his credit, Ganymede doesn't flinch when he feels the breath of whisper and the locks of dark hair brushing his cheek. "Always," he whispers back, twisting to look up at the pirate before him--he makes an interesting picture, the Brucolac does.

Oh yes. The fishtail design working its way up Ganymede's hand does remind him of the vampir, and the city built on ships, but it would work just as well on the other man's pale skin as it does on his own. "I try to be prepared--boredom isn't much fun at all."

"It isn't," he agrees, settling into a seat beside him. "When you have so many nights to fill, it's harder to find things to fill all those nights. You can run out of things to do."

He studies the design, with a smile.

"But you know how it is. So I made you something."

Something he's quite proud of, in fact.

"Did you?" he asks, surprised. "I'm...almost done with making you something," he says, glancing to the blank papers he has ready to be rolled into the application tubes for the dye.

"You can come sit with me if you'd like."

"I did."

He takes a bundle from his coat pocket, about a foot long and narrow, wrapped in a bit of rough cloth and tied neatly.

"I hope you like it--consider it a token of appreciation."

Making it had let him show off two of his skills at the same time, which also made him happy.

"Is it safe for me to open it here?" Ganymede asks, taking the package with one hand and setting it down gently, careful not to disturb the ink still on his hand.

"You must have interesting pockets for this to fit in them so easily," he murmurs.

The package has a decent weight to it.

"It's safe to open, but I wouldn't go waving it around," he says with a quiet chuckle.

...well, not that anybody could have a problem with that. But it might raise eyebrows.

"All the better for looting."

Ganymede unwraps it slowly, curious as to the package's contents, but the unwrapping is somewhat slower with only one hand to really use.

"I have enough dye made to do a fairly intricate design on you," he murmurs, looking askance at his new lover. "But it can keep for several weeks if kept moderately cool." It will likely be kept for a few hours at least--if he anticipates drawing on the back of the vampir's neck, and he does, they'll need to be fairly sated beforehand.

"You anticipate me doing that much looting?" he asks, teasing.

It's a particularly well-made cat o' nine tails--made of unbraided rope, its handle banded neatly in rings of ivory carved with geometric motifs.

Well, he's a sailor. What else would he make?

"The weather's gotten cooler, so that shouldn't be a problem," he says. "I haven't got anything planned... you can start whenever you like. And if you do get the sudden strange urge to loot, I'm more than happy to lend you my coat."

The contents earn the vampir an entirely surprised look--something that is quite difficult to get out of Ganymede these days--tinted with an expression that's less rare, but he's selective about who sees it. His fingers trace each of the falls from the handle to the ends, the tips feeling prickly and almost-numb by the time he's done, and takes the handle in his palm.

"Well," he murmurs, voice low and a dozen times less playful and more intimate than before, "This is thoughtful..." The innocent face his companion is wearing does nothing to dim the certainty Ganymede has that the Brucolac knew exactly what his first thought for use of the gift might be. "Convenient, too, I could ask you to show me how one like this is used."

He still looks innocent, but now also pleased. It's the sort of gift that could easily go very wrong, or not be taken the right way, or... but no.

"I'll have you know I'm well-trained," he says. "The flogging of the insubordinate was one of my duties--it was supposed to be shared evenly among the officers, but generally fell to me. The captain liked that I was neither cruel nor merciful; his sentences were carried out exactly as ordered."

"Really," he murmurs, fingertips dancing over the ivory bands on the handle. "I am most certainly interested in you showing me how it's done."

Ganymede smiles, and tugs gently on a lock of the vampir's hair. "Come closer, here, and look towards me. I have a design I want to put on your eyes."

"I'll be happy to show you what I know," he says, and lets himself be pulled into position.

As long as he's only going to be painting on his face... well, he can handle that.

"Do you need me to close my eyes, or can I still look at you?"