driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Everyone
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Iskaulit
When:

[So we've been stuck on the poison moon for a couple months now, so a lot of people probably want to get away from that.

Unfortunately, the only place you really can get away from it besides your own ship is the Iskaulit. So, here's a June Iskaulit mingle!]

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Gratification, perhaps. I imagine there is a lure there. And feelings are not so easily dissected.

[ He flips to the first page, skimming it. ]

[Erik just raises his eyebrow, and doesn't comment. It's clear Charles gets some kind of gratification out of this trash. A guilty pleasure, perhaps.]

[ Shh. ]

“I wasn't aware we were fighting. I thought we were communicating,”

I wasn't aware that's how it works.

Edited 2016-06-09 10:13 (UTC)

[Erik has to glance at the page over Charles's shoulder, to see if such a stupid line could really be written there.]

I don't think even we were ever that dense.

[ He points to it helpfully. ]

Well, we have perspective now, something this woman is sorely lacking.

And there's another book after this... [He shakes his head.] I hope no one takes this as a model text to base their relationship on.

Younger girls might. I actually don't know how popular this is. It says best seller on the cover.

This doesn't seem like it's appropriate for young girls.

Well, teenagers most likely would find it enjoyable, I imagine. The dark mysterious man. The everyday girl.

[He just snorts. Children today.]

I suppose literature has changed a lot over the years.

“I'm anything but fine. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Ana. I'm in perpetual night here."

[He rolls his eyes, up towards the ceiling. What a bore this Christian Grey is.]

Poor him.

Hmm, he does seem to be in dire straits. I don't know why he's so fixated on her. She wasn't interested in his, ah, unusual needs.

It's a novel, Charles. Obsession has always been a part of literature, especially romance. Did you never read Jane Eyre?

Briefly. I was never into Brontë. They had a very strange view of the psyche.

I can't say I immersed myself in them either. It was just an-- [He stops abruptly, eyes tracking to the left. The vision is back. With a forced sigh, he looks back towards Charles.] An example.

[ Charles frowns. He could feel it, like being submerged in water. Instead of pushing through, Charles tries to insert his presence into the hallucination, leaning against the wall quietly. ]

[There's a strange moment where the vision blurs, and Erik sees a shadow.] What are you doing...?

[ Trying something different, Charles replies, can you see me? ]

I can see... something. It's shadowy. [He bites down on the nerves it inspires, knowing that this is Charles's influence and not himself seeing phantom things.]

[ Charles frowns, pulling it back. ]

And now?

It's gone. [He forgoes 'looking' at Charles for now. He can't see him, and he's sure it's only bizarre to be stared at by someone who's essentially blind.]

Would you prefer it to be there? Or I -- I could just read to you. To keep your mind off it.

You... can do both. [He's not particularly fond of the shadow, but it's something, and it could give Charles much-needed insight into how to break through an augment's interference.]

[ He nods. Charles eases himself back into the vision, focusing on the details - his height, his mannerisms, his outline, hoping that it will stick. Meanwhile he flicks to the next page and begins ready outloud. ]

“You wanted hearts and flowers,” he murmurs.
I blink at him, not quite believing what I’m seeing.
“You have my heart.” And he waves toward the room.
“And here are the flowers,” I whisper, completing his sentence. “Christian, it’s lovely.”