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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 21, 2009 17:46:26 GMT -5
Carlos pouted.
"I'm not afraid," he said. But the truth was he wasn't that fond of the water, and was even less so lately. But then again, he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon, and Mortimer's company was oddly easy. None of the machinations he typically had to engage in in society. "But I'll come with you."
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 14:15:56 GMT -5
Again, Carlos was pulled gently and insistently along the streets, his hand captured in the little creature's small, webbed mitt.
"Sometimes the water is very dirty, so perhaps it's best if you don't swim in it after all. But it doesn't bother me at all."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 22, 2009 14:26:07 GMT -5
Not the most attractive statement, but Mortimer's odd hand felt pleasant in Carlos', and while he didn't make the connection explicitly was very different from Erik's.
"No," he agreed. "It wouldn't bother you, would it?" He didn't mean anything by it except that he was, at times, part cat, while Mortimer was part fish. A different attitude towards water was only natural.
It was odd, what he could now consider "natural."
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 14:32:52 GMT -5
"It doesn't stick to me, if I don't want it to." He beamed and pulled Carlos up to the quay and then along the little cobbled stretch of path to the shadow of the nearest bridge where he wriggled out of his clothing (folding them as neatly as he could manage--he had watched a few of the lovers he's known fold away their clothing) and then slipped down into the water.
It wasn't as deep as he might usually like, not enough room for his acrobatics, so his shape did not bother rearranging itself, though the tattoos everywhere on him faded to start black inks again, and the gill scars at his sides reddened freshly.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 22, 2009 14:39:34 GMT -5
Carlos merely thought he hadn't seen the scars clearly before, as he watched from the stone ledge. The night had a sort of magical quality, as if he wasn't really there, and this wasn't really Paris, and maybe he wasn't even awake.
Watching Mortimer bend and twist gracefully through the water--much more graceful than most swimmers he'd seen, despite keeping his man-shape--was somewhat hypnotizing, and Carlos thought of very little, letting the peace steal over him and ignoring the transient shapes under the bridge engaged in their sordid affairs.
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 14:46:10 GMT -5
Every couple of minutes, he would pop back over to the ledge where the heavy man stood and pull himself up out of the water to the chest, his little hands gleaming with wet against the dark stone, his lips curved into a rather natural and pretty smile.
"Will you come in? I promise to take care of you."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 22, 2009 14:49:58 GMT -5
Carlos' eyes trailed up from the man's chest to his smile, and found no way to choose between them for charm.
"I don't think so," he said, as close to apologetic as he generally got. "I don't much like the water. I'm sorry."
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 14:54:21 GMT -5
He gave a little keen and pushed away from the wall again, swimming with perhaps a touch less energy for a minute before coming back again.
"What do you like to do?"
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 22, 2009 15:44:37 GMT -5
He felt like he'd disappointed the little man, but it wasn't exactly his job to keep him entertained.
"Oh, the usual," he said. "Eat. Sleep. Sing. Good conversation." His eyes narrowed. There were other things he enjoyed, too, but he got the impression that mentioning them might make the possibility all too real, considering... well, his own engagement.
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 16:01:04 GMT -5
"But...there's nothing you like particularly? No where interesting to you to go to?"
He gave a little turn in the water, his lithe back and backside breaking the surface, before he turned back again.
"Nowhere at all?"
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 22, 2009 16:07:22 GMT -5
Of course there were particular things, particular people, particular tastes. Carlos did not have much in the way of "hobbies"--he did not collect stamps or make ships in bottles or play tennis or anything like that. He kept himself busy enough, with the "good life" he'd craved for so many years. But Mortimer's words cast him back in time, to the pleasures of a life without caviar and good port.
"Trains," he said, without thinking. "I used to enjoy watching them come in, and leave, the people all bound for somewhere."
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 16:16:50 GMT -5
"Oh!" He grinned and hauled himself out of the water, dripping.
"I was on a train once, when Henry took me to his home. I was very afraid, then. We could go to the station and watch the trains, I would like that."
The little man gave a clicking purr that rose into his pleasant cello hum and shook himself off a bit before pulling his clothes back on, his hair slicked back from the water.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 22, 2009 16:22:38 GMT -5
Carlos was on the point of refusing, of going home, when something endearing about the naturalness and ease of Mortimer's re-dressing struck him.
"All right," he said softly. Mortimer wasn't exactly childlike, but there was something odd about him, something... elemental. That made Carlos shed some of the slick, dissatisfied exterior he thought was truly part of him. "There should be some, even now, in a city like Paris."
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Post by Mortimer on Apr 22, 2009 19:51:20 GMT -5
"Do the trains come less at night?" he tilted his head curiously, wet forelock falling into his face as he finished with buttoning his shirt and took Carlos' hand again, ready to be led this time, as he was uncertain where the station was.
His shoeless feet were quickly muddied under the bridge, but they seemed as pale and unbruised for all his uncovered walked on the stones and earth, unconcerned with broken bottles, filthy, rusted nails and other detritus.
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Post by Carlos Castro on Apr 23, 2009 10:09:30 GMT -5
"They do," Carlos explained. True to his word, Mortmier wasn't dirty, and that surprised him. He was surprised, too, by the state of the man's feet, and while it offended his sensibilities that he walked without shoes, the fact he was not injured was somewhat astonishing.
What sort of person walked without shoes, and didn't know anything about trains? And yet did not come off as some sort of idiot?
"People tend to like to arrive and depart during the day, when they wouldn't normally be sleeping," he said.
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