Post by lathriel on Jul 28, 2010 15:45:25 GMT -5
Moonlight streamed through the glass bottle on Darren Chase’s desk, green waves shimmered and danced on the small book of parchment on his desk that his hand, armed with quill, scrawled away in:
Darren’s writing froze; he smiled upon the rather large, glowing bottle: absinthe. A bottle between two men spelled mischief alright—beyond mischief, — and my god if Darren was counting upon that. Mischief loosened one’s will, loosened one’s inhibitions… loosened one’s belt. Of course, Darren wasn’t planning on loosening anyone’s belt—other than his own. Nudeness was often the result of his encounters with absinthe, not that he minded.
Darren slid the journal, open-faced, into a drawer in his desk. The chair he was seated in was abandoned as he strode across the room. He grasped a messenger bag from its hook and slung it over his shoulder, soon thereafter concealing the bottle of absinthe inside along with his cigarettes and a menagerie of other object he thought he might need on this night.
Dressed to the nines, as one might say, the suited-up Darren strode down the hall from his office. After a few twists and turns down the moonlit corridors, he found himself in front of Gabriel’s office. He raised his fist and tapped gently on his door; he knew Gabriel was expecting him. Gabriel had responded to his letter after all. So Darren stood there, his brilliant smile beaming as he waited for a response to his soft rapture on the door.
Today I shall finally explore the unknown. Today—I shall indulge. No, not in academia… I always indulge there, perhaps a bit too much, but that is much beside the point. Alas, it is today, tonight, this very evening I shall discover the intimacy of friendship with one Gabriel de Bontecou. He’s beautiful, absolutely brilliantly beautiful, and beneath that beautiful mask—I can sense mischief. Oh, mischief… how I do love to consort with you in all your facets, and how particularly willing I am to consort with this one.
Darren’s writing froze; he smiled upon the rather large, glowing bottle: absinthe. A bottle between two men spelled mischief alright—beyond mischief, — and my god if Darren was counting upon that. Mischief loosened one’s will, loosened one’s inhibitions… loosened one’s belt. Of course, Darren wasn’t planning on loosening anyone’s belt—other than his own. Nudeness was often the result of his encounters with absinthe, not that he minded.
The fairy will be accompanying us this evening… that bright green, fluttering minx of a fairy. She’s one for games. All the same… tonight shall be fun—immensely so.
Darren slid the journal, open-faced, into a drawer in his desk. The chair he was seated in was abandoned as he strode across the room. He grasped a messenger bag from its hook and slung it over his shoulder, soon thereafter concealing the bottle of absinthe inside along with his cigarettes and a menagerie of other object he thought he might need on this night.
Dressed to the nines, as one might say, the suited-up Darren strode down the hall from his office. After a few twists and turns down the moonlit corridors, he found himself in front of Gabriel’s office. He raised his fist and tapped gently on his door; he knew Gabriel was expecting him. Gabriel had responded to his letter after all. So Darren stood there, his brilliant smile beaming as he waited for a response to his soft rapture on the door.