inkwreaths | but you are far too beautiful to love me.

[The night is ripe with sea spray and the promise of a dream. In this darkness, the land is invisible to the eye. No one on shore can see them - none of the politics and drama that so frequented family circles could touch them - not when he's aboard Edmond's ship. It's a true sanctuary in every since, even if it's only for tonight. Come the morning, he'll have to return to the Collins... but that's still far away.

Andersen remains on deck to watch the stars. He has a lamp with him, so he can properly see the journal he's sketching the constellations into. All is calm. Peaceful.]

[nearby, Dantes lies stretched out on the deck, his hands under his head, looking up at the sky and letting the boat sway gently with the waves. they've dropped anchor a ways out, and he's glad that no one will look for them here. it means they get time to be themselves, away from the discussions of the future that their families want, from the thought that Hans will go back to school for a while, from....really everything that's not existing here.

turning his head, seeing Hans lit by the lamp, he looks radiant in Dantes' eyes. like a work of art that could never be replicated, no matter how studious the hand. so instead, he freezes it in his mind's eye to hold, and smiles to see him there. the gentle sound of the water, the scratch of pencil, the scents of burning oil and salt - it lingers.]

When are you planning to go into astronomy?

[teasing, but soft as to not break the night's spell.]

[This ship is their small world of two, where they can sail off as the sailors did in the Arabian Nights. But the real treasure isn't in some mythical, distant land. He's right beside Hans, with a voice that rings his hollowed heart like a bell.

Hans sets down his pencil. Scoots a little closer to his friend, so he may better see his face. To think someone could look at him with such fondness--]

An astronomer shuts himself in his study all night, so he may ponder the heavens in silence. [He can't help himself. Hans gently rests a hand atop Edmond's head, to feel those locks beneath his bare fingertips.] Why should I be an astronomer when I can be a poet? Then I could sing of the stars around me to my heart's content.

[he ends up grinning under his touch. this, this was simply...right in the fabric of the world. his voice, his face, his clever mind and scribbling fingers, all of it is dear to Edmond. to have them close to study for his own feels like a divine present right now.]

Mm, I do like your singing. The rest of the world should get at least the chance to hear your words - abandon the sciences at your leisure, Hans. If that fits into the future you want to have.

[That smile - surely it's the one storytellers of old wrote of. Around everyone else, Hans is all edges, greeting even his own teachers and patrons with a bite. Edmond alone is privy to this softer side of him, the bleeding heart that melts at the way he lilts his speech, the perfect angles of his face. All these fine details makes him want to kiss him, and hidden in the veil of the night, Hans is bold enough to press a kiss to Edmond's forehead.]

So I'm to act based upon my feral desires? To follow my heart's whims without consideration for the consequences, to play with whatever catches my eye... in short, to be the ultimate fool whose future is his present? Ha! That is the very essence of an artist.

[He slyly grins.]

If I were to live that way, my dearest Edmond, I'd find the path bending back towards you. Is that what you want?

Edited 2019-08-08 08:08 (UTC)

I won't do you the disservice of lying and saying that I wouldn't be happy for that outcome. But, to be an equal fool...

[sitting up, he reaches for Hans' hand, to press it and gaze into his eyes, see the glow behind him like a halo.]

...When you're done with schooling, let's leave Denmark. Let's go somewhere with kinder winters - somewhere neither of us has ever seen. That's the future I'd want to see.

Edited (PHRASING) 2019-08-08 08:27 (UTC)

[Hans' hand is his to hold - it always has been - and Edmond's dream heats his face. How many times has Hans hoped for that outcome? For them to run away, like protagonists in a fairy tale, to a happily ever after?]

My family would never allow that.

[Though he pens fantasies, Hans is a cynical man through and through. Maybe that's why he's drawn to Edmond's hope.]

What could I possibly say to persuade them?

You no longer wish to burden their generosity, and wish to set forth to chart your own path. While their charity has been an immeasurable boon to your life, there must come a day where you stand upon your own two feet and create your own place in society.

[he says it calmly, with the conviction of a man who knows all too well how indebted Hans feels, how personal the tethering to them is. he understands, because he has his own bonds tying him to the land.]

[Edmond makes it all sound feasible. Once they were on the sea, who would stop them?

Yet... Hans looks down, at his ink-stained hands cupped in Edmond's. He can't bear to look into those eyes and say what he has to.]

They won't be satisfied with that. Especially not if we're fleeing the society we're supposed to stand tall in.

[All the money and time they've put into their pet project - into him - can't be squandered. Hans was permitted some leeway as an eccentric country boy, since it was assumed he was practically a different breed from those of more aristocratic blood. But even his background won't protect his adoptive family if he ruins the outcome of their experiment.

It's not the answer Edmond wants. He knows. It's simply reality.]

I know all their talk of marriage makes us both anxious. So I promise... [Hans still doesn't look up.] ... I won't take a bride. Not while you're still in Copenhagen with me.

[he's quiet, letting Hans make his vow while he looks away. it pains him to see him in that state, see him shackled to a family that keeps him caged when he could fly so freely, when Edmond has dreams of a dozen ways of escaping this city, this country - all of them involving Hans at his side. he can't leave without him, he knows. no matter how his heart longs for the shore and strange winds perfumed with spice and smoke.]

And I promise you the same.

[he leans closer to kiss Hans on the head, closing his eyes.]

Not while you're away at school, and not afterwards. And should they try to make me marry, I'll drive any choice away and make my reputation that of a rogue who can't be trusted with anyone's heart. If you remain by my side, then I shall never take a wife.

Edmond...

[The smart thing to do would be to move on. An author lives entirely at the whim of his readers. What sort of stability can he give to Edmond, aside from chaining him to the shore? But when he kisses Hans so tenderly - when he leans close to him like this, beneath the light of the stars - he can pretend for a moment that everything will be okay.

Hans lets out his breath.]

... if you think about it, then we're technically engaged to one another.

[Ridiculous, considering how they're both men. But--]

Aren't we?

...it is rather like that sort of promise.

[the smile can be heard in his voice, the sweet little spark of joy he feels, and he'll take this metaphor and run with it for a little while.]

That would make me like your bride, waiting for you to return to me so we might join hands and start our life together. If you'd consent to have me.

Edited 2019-08-10 03:12 (UTC)

Shouldn't I be the bride?

[Edmond, with the rough hands of an experienced sailor, who's as clever as he is strong, with a head for navigating the seas and business - he's the sort of husband women would fight over. Hans can't see him playing the part of the bride.]

Ask anyone, they'll say you're the masculine one. I'm the one weeping over poems.

I'll be the one waiting faithfully for your return, fending off matches if they come, holding your letters as I fall asleep. You shall make me pine, Hans, as surely as those who see their beloved go off to war and wait to welcome them back.

[he reaches to tilt Hans's face up to see his.]

Will you discredit me so if I know myself enough to say that of us, I'm more suited to that role?

[Oh. He can't help how red his cheeks turn, though he doesn't look away.]

... it will be the same on my end. [Hans murmurs it.] Each time you sail away, I worry for your return. I obsess over you. if I cannot see you.

I've the right to the title too.

Then once you return, you may always sail by my side. Your worries will be laid to rest, your obsession soothed - and where we go can inspire your pen to works that the world will be helplessly in love with.

[his thumb strokes over Hans's cheekbone, sincerity in his eyes.]

We can argue over who holds what title then to our hearts' content.

[That ends their silly little argument, then. Hans closes his eyes to better enjoy that gentle touch.]

Oh, it won't be much of an argument. [He leans in to close the space between them, his mouth an inch away from Edmond's.] We all know I'd be more beautiful in a dress than you.

That sounds like a challenge, mon cher.

[the French is only in private, a declaration of his heart.]

Do you wish me to wear a dress and prove you wrong?

[The use of his pet name makes the fondness in his heart buzz.]

I am the naive beast the Collins plucked from the countryside, with a maiden's innocence and a man's mind. I think those attributes make me far more appealing in a dress than a roguish sailor who draws the eyes of both stranger and friend.

[he laughs, eyes bright with delight. ]

I yield. No dress shall grace my form unless you change your mind. But your appeal is unchanged and undimmed regardless of your attire.

[and so close, it is impossible to resist kissing him now, his eyes closing. every time they kiss, he wants to do nothing else ever - such is his heart.]

[If Edmond hadn't initiated, Hans would've. He cups his lover's face as he welcomes the kiss. The warmth in his chest flutters, and when there's a chance for him to speak up--]

It's peculiar for an Adonis to chase such a wretched creature. And so brazenly, at that. [He grins.] What if someone were to see you claiming your prey?

Then they can keep their opinions to themselves, for my heart rests where it does, and I would challenge any to speak ill of him who I am so fond of. For he is not my prey, but my equal, whom I lay myself bare to that he might know my sincerity and choose how to respond. Adonis you might name me, but I have no wish for the affections of the divine - only a wish for yours.

[sometimes he knows he's laying it on thick, but it's who they are. theatrics are yet another language they speak, vaulting ideas back and forth to see how far they'd go.]

[Dramatics suit Hans perfectly, who's always dreamed of the stage. And what better stage to perform than with Edmond? He gazes into those golden eyes while his own crinkle with happiness.]

Ah, but there's no reason for you to pine for my affections when you've already commanded it. This heart of mine is fully yours, Edmond. Nothing -- not even God or time -- can change that.

As you have mine. So I shall faithfully wait for you until you return to me, and write often to fill the space between.

[there's nothing but fond warmth in his expression, and he leans up to kiss Hans on the forehead. alone, he can be freely indulgent in his physical affection, close and content for it. the time will pass swiftly enough, if he makes his plans come to fruition - ways for them to be free of their families and live in no less comfort for it.]

[This is what love should be: promises beneath the stars, without any family politics or scheming. Hans doesn't know how he'll survive the next few months without Edmond. Even if he writes, it won't be the same. He closes his eyes.]

Will you be traveling while I'm away?

Edited 2019-08-13 05:36 (UTC)

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