happy pride, etc

[papadopoulos]

“Uh, people were killed.”
“No one was killed at Stonewall.”
“No…body…was killed???”
_________________________________________________________

The café is looking much more colorful than it has in the past. Specifically, there are various flags draped on top of the walls – certainly it is much brighter than anything Enjolras would have cared to come up with. Directly behind the pastry case there is a rainbow flag, and scattered around there are a myriad of other pride flags. (Whatever they could scrounge up from the cupboards, basically.) There is also a small table set off to one side, with various types of beaded necklaces and colored bracelets lying atop it. There is also a small flier with descriptions and explanations of what the different flags represent. Explanations of pride in general will be freely offered, as well.

Dionysus has offered up his cd player, though instead of the same music from the party, it is playing songs from various queer artists. There’s a selection ranging from Bowie to Cole Porter to Billie Holiday, including more modern artists such as Lady Gaga, Mika, Queen, and Green Day. Apollo can be found near the music as usual; but he is currently engrossed in making more of the colored bracelets. He is seated at the table with a box full of friendship bracelet making supplies, wearing an artfully cropped version of this shirt, a hyacinth bloom set behind his ear. Dionysus is at a different table, wearing a knee-length sundress of pink, yellow, and blue stripes and one of the beaded bracelets Apollo is making, this one in yellow, white, purple, and black beads. He found a small facepainting palette with a few pride flag options and is willing to offer up his services if anyone happens to want a tiny flag on their cheek (or, well, wherever.)


Let us know if you want Apollo, Dionysus, or both for your threads!

Comments

[vineleaves]

There he is.

"I suppose when you look at it that way, it is sorta perfect," he says, as if this isn't a thought he's already had before, how it's so fitting that the person worshipping him here is one of the ones from a play. "Thank you, though," he says, grabbing one of Claudius's hands and kissing the back of his fingers. "It does mean a lot, that you'd trust me like this."

[wickedwit]

Claudius remembers Rome, where kissed the Ring of the Fisherman, and hoped the city's holiness would cleanse some stubborn wickedness inside him, but he only found more wickedness. It seems silly, now. "Thou art so unlike Him," he laughs. "Stop me. I'll do nothing but complain of God, like some tiresome suitor who thinks flattery is comparing his second love to the first. But He had me believe that faith must always be a trial to endure. Faith in thee comes easily."

[vineleaves]

Dionysus melts at that, both the fact that Claudius is laughing again, and that last bit about faith in Dionysus coming easy. He may be one of the twelve Olympians, but he's aware of the many ways in which he might not live up to someone's expectations of him as a god. He's not omniscient, he can't will himself to different locations instantly, and the powers he does have, while strong, are rather limited and aren't always going to be the most massively useful things.

He runs a hand through Claudius's hair, then wraps him up in a big hug. "I'm gonna be here for you, dear. Whenever you need me."

[wickedwit]

A god who swears always to be there for him, who hugs him and soothes him when he's sad (he's sad he's so hopelessly sad he doesn't want to feel anything else) is still unlike any another. "If I were to sleep," he says, realizing he's tired, too, "wouldst thou watch over me?"

[vineleaves]

"Of course, dear." He gives Claudius a kiss on the forehead. "My bed will be more comfortable than here though," he says, motioning to the pile of pillows they've been sitting on.

[wickedwit]

"Everything in thy room is comfortable," Claudius says. It occurs to him to wonder how long he's been calling Dionysus thou, without noticing it. That's not such a forward thing, is it? Even the psalms invoke God as a thou. Someone more familiar than anyone else, someone as close as your own soul. "Including thee," he adds.

[vineleaves]

"Bedrooms are supposed to be comfortable, silly," he says gently before getting up, and offering a hand to help Claudius up as well. "C'mon, we can snuggle on my bed, you can take a nap."

[wickedwit]

“We have a kotatsu,” Claudius says, dreamy as he lets himself be led. “Dost thou know what a kotatsu is?”

[vineleaves]

"I do, yes," he helps Claudius climb into his bed, covering both of them up with his regular bedspread as well as the weighted blanket. "It must have been an absolute lifesaver during the wintertime."

[wickedwit]

"It was," he says, settling under the blanket and looking up at the ceiling, the stars. "I was sad then, too. I spend a lot of time being sad. I'd say it's a family aliment, but I think it's a human one."

[vineleaves]

Dionysus, propped up on his side, starts combing his fingers through Claudius' hair. "There's -- unfortunately -- a lot of people who spend a disproportionate amount of time being sad, you're right. I'm sorry, dear. You've spent a lot of time in a very bad environment, and didn't get out until, y'know, relatively recently. It takes time to heal from these sorts of things. Doing what you can to get the emotions out can help. Right now though, I think you need some rest."

[wickedwit]

"How art thou so kind?" he mumbles. But he cuddles close to Dionysus, accepting the touch and the comfort therein. "There were few such kind people in Elsinore. Know'st thou ... I was once a child for a day, here. And every stranger I met was kinder to me than any of the family or other courtiers surrounding me." Save Gertrude who, at that age, had seemed so untouchably far from him. She became both closer and farther away from him with every passing year. With a scoffing laugh, he says, "I suppose that's what thou mean'st by a bad environment."

[vineleaves]

"I only wish you had been rescued sooner," Dionysus tells him in a quiet voice, leaning over to kiss his hair. "But you're here now, surrounded by so many people who love you and want what's best for you. Speaking of, you should rest, dear. We can talk more when you wake up."

[wickedwit]

He's been tired, so tired, but the feeling of tiredness never touched him, not feeling his heavying brows, or the soft ache of being awake and always tensed for a danger he can't see. Galahad has had to pull him into bed, and pulled the sheets over them. Claudius's last thought, as his eyes drift closed and sleep steals over him, is that Galahad really would like a weighted blanket. He might also like a little flag, so they can celebrate the sweet sin of shared pride. Some scrap of common identity to still hold onto, when everything is so uncertain.