xistentia | daemon: junod, video.

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daemon: junod, video.

( be well, xistentia! and enjoy the look of a handsome man lighting up your daemon screens, well-dressed by the looks of it, and certainly not missing an accessory here or there. from the silver in his ears down to the intricate locks of rings around his fingers, this man seems to be the very epitome of fashion — from somewhere, at least. nonetheless, he radiates confidence, with a sly smile that seems to know something you, specifically, don't but — what he knows, or if he really knows anything at all, remains to be seen.

waggling his fingers, )

Hello and a very warm greeting to you, Xistentia! My name is Colton. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, but I was a touch distracted, what with the war and whatnot. Such terrible times. And a terrible welcome party, for me!

Allow me the chance to sweeten some welcome for all of us newcomers, hm? Myself and resident Juno Steel will be hosting a party in the following weeks in a ... ah, 'get to know the neighborhood' type vein. It's also a rather poor excuse to gather a launch party for my lingerie store, Pulsar, which will be up and rising soon enough.

Hope to see you all there! Do give us a mention if you plan on coming, yes? I've promised to go live in the mountains and never show my face again if no one attends, no pressure to all of you, of course. ( and just before he says goodbye, ) Did I mention dress-up is necessary? I certainly hope I did. Bring me your best, Xistentia, I expect no less!

Ta!

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They don't, but a bar will be a suitable finale, I think. I need shoes first.

Well, we'll have a look around for those to start then.

Are we looking for like

Practical shoes or...?

[ juno... ]

Practical, yes. A good pair of heels will do nicely.

Perhaps we'll pick up a pair for you while we're there. Yes, I can picture it now.

[ he's zero surprised by that response. ]

Does the picture look something like "I don't actually need a new pair of heels"? Because that's pretty much what I'm seeing.

No, you must not be looking hard enough. Pick me up soon.

I think I'm looking plenty hard.

Bossy.

Ah, but you like when I'm bossy.

Come come, Juno! Time is wasting!

Making an awfully big assumption there, Colton.

[ that name sounds. really douchey holy shit. makes a mental note to try to make fun of him for it later ]

On my way.

[ and u let me know if u wanna do some action in here or in an inbox or somewhere else xoxo ]

And right all the same, hm?

( regardless of whenever juno shows up at temporary house peter has commanded, the door opens before he has the chance to knock, peter in the doorframe with all the majesty of a spoiled housecat, bedecked in head to toe black with the little accents of silver glittering throughout. he turns a pleasant grin to juno, head tilted, and

when he steps outside, his shoes seem very new, shiny black heels with red bottoms. new. or very well taken care of, at least. )

Come along, dear detective. Time is money.

[ terrifyingly.

juno arrives at peter's apartment not too long after, but glancing at his shoes and then back at his face, he cocks a brow skeptically. he has his hands buried in his trench coat pockets, collar turned up just a little at first but seeming to slowly deflate a little as he begins to walk beside nureyev, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heels against the street.

he looks about as beat up as ever, is pretty sure nureyev would look much better with someone else just shy of his arm, maybe on it instead. ]

You sure you need to hustle for new shoes just yet? You're doing pretty well with those.

( the sidewalk makes a quiet one-man symphony as peter's shoes slash the ground, although the scuttle of juno's feet offer a satisfying strings to peter's percussion. even with one hand in his pocket, the one flanking juno's side remains outside in the bitter cold, just. you know. in case juno wanted an invitation.

not drawing attention to it, peter sighs, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. )

Oh, twist my arm, why don't you! Fine, fine. ( his eyebrows dance on his forehead, implication laced. ) This is more a shopping trip for you than for myself. Since you like to throw a fit at every turn that I did all the shopping on my own the last time, I thought I'd involve you in the trade this time.

[ oh don't you invite him to do that, it's about as tempting as it should be, and juno is resolute in not giving himself exactly what he wants. his mouth twitches a little bit, smile weak, but very much privately there. ]

The reason I "threw a fit" last time because it was -

[ juno's mouth presses into a thin line before he shrugs his shoulders. he doesn't finish that sentiment, looking away. ]

There was just a lot going on, okay? Not everyday some [ roguishly handsome thief ] guy just shows up in your apartment draped over the couch like he owns the place saying that you've gotta go out to the middle of the desert for a good old fashioned train heist. When he gets you a suit that fits like a goddamn glove on top of it all... a guy might blow up just a little.

Edited 2017-12-05 12:31 (UTC)

Hm. ( a sound of understanding escapes him. yes -- the second part makes a lot of sense. juno spoiled the way he's never been, and peter being all to happy to offer certain ... luxuries on a silver platter. still, he can't say he's too apologetic about it. if anything, it makes him all the more excited for this shopping trip and subsequent party, where he can spoil juno all over again.

he seems to have a place in mind and takes the lead while they walk, humming thoughtfully at some of the buildings. )

Blowing up, yes, I suppose I do see your point. ( the look on his face says the exact opposite. ) Well, it won't be a suit this time, so maybe you can learn to lighten up, a little? I have a whole new vision, Juno! You'll be the belle of the ball.

[ he definitely does not see his point, and you'd have to be an idiot not to notice the tone in nureyev's voice that says just that. still, juno remains instep with him, clearing his throat a little, but not yet bringing himself to unhunch his shoulders. he does take a long look around at where they're walking. ]

Thought this was more about you making friends and not becoming a bird-watching mountain hobo?

[ his face is so fucking hot how dare you. ]

( the walk isn't too far. as they speak, peter can already see the silhouette of the dress boutique rearing its head, though juno of course doesn't know that as they make their merry way along the cobblestone, midday light bathing them in sunny yellow. )

It can be about any number of things, not one thing more than the next. Saving myself from the mountains, meeting the neighbors, spoiling Juno. All worthy topics of interest, in my humble opinion. First things first!

( he stops pointedly at the store front, a very quaint looking dress shop in direct contrast to how peter generally presents himself, but they aren't shopping for peter, so that makes its fair bit of sense. in the window, there's enough room to fit a single saree on either side, each bedecked in its own expression of intricate embroidery and beadwork, sewn by hand and made with love. peter nods his head to the door. )

Shall we? After you.

[ juno’s about to throw out a retort when they come to a stop, his eyes falling on the storefront with a slow blink before his eyes snap open a bit more widely. there’s a moment when he’s pretty sure the only way to handle this is to turn on his heel and to call it a day. but when he catches peter’s eyes, the color of them warmed in the light.

he looks to the door again, arms folding over briefly like he’s debating it before letting out a very long, relenting noise, mouth only faintly twisting up.

yeah.

yeah ok.

he can do this. maybe. fingers tapping on his elbows nervously before walking towards the door and flexing fingers against it like he’s waiting for it to burn his palm. ]

Didn’t even know this place existed.

[ he’s already regretting it. just a bit, eye trailing and lingering on something brilliantly red in his peripherals, and he swallows before clearing his throat roughly. ]

Why here, huh?

( peter follows step by step as juno saunters through, letting the door fall shut behind them. the shop is warmer than the outside weather, and peter flexes his fingers in his palm, working feeling back into them. juno's own hand could've helped that, but he bites off that line of thinking as soon as it comes to him, watching the racks of brightly colored clothing.

when a salesperson comes up to them, peter politely says: ) We're fine, thank you.

( with a charming smile, that probably looks nicer than it actually is. encountering some rack, peter lets his fingers drift across some particular saree, enjoying the interesting feeling of bumpy embroidery under the pads of this thumbs. )

Why? I saw it and imagined you in each garment, and thought you'd look lovely in each. So -- even if you oppose my final judgement, you'll look good anyway. Hm! ( noticing juno's gaze lingering on a red outfit ( he tries to cover up his staring but come now juno, peter is good at picking up on the small things ), peter dances his way over in that direction, picking it up, holding it to the light. ) Seems my scheming was misplaced! This is quite the piece, I approve thoroughly. Caught your eye, did it, detective? ( he looks over his shoulder, to see the sickly look on juno's face, and the carefree jovial nature of peter is misplaced with knitted brows, and pout framing his lips. ) Ah -- Juno?

What.

[ juno snaps almost immediately when peter’s brow starts to draw. his eyes are ultimately looking anywhere and everywhere but the piece of fabric in peter’s hands. no, it isn’t the same damn thing, but it’s the color. brilliant crimson with a honeyed gold accented throughout that makes his stomach churn in a way that hasn’t in years because he’s pushed that dress to the far end of his closet and avoids looking at it whenever possible. he doesn’t mean to bark, but it comes out of him far faster than he can take it back.

there he goes again, ruining things. it’s what he was practically put on this damn earth to do so why even bother trying to fix it, right? why bother trying to amend what he’s already gone and shattered into pieces on the ground at his feet. his eyes turn up to linger on the draping over it again, on how it sits in peter’s hands because at the end of the day he’s a master thief sure.

but peter nureyev is not a mind reader. at least not a precise one.

the sigh comes softly past his lips as he lifts a hand out of his pocket, striding over to where peter had traipsed and settling a hand on the dress, guiding it steadily with his palm. ]

Not that one, okay?

[ straight, to the point, and he’s not going to elaborate. ] Hate red, I wash enough of the stuff down the drain on a case. Last thing I wanna do is wear it somewhere on purpose.

[ absolutely a smooth...... save..... ]

( there is a bit of recoil when he hears the sharp pinch of juno's voice, but he isn't especially put out by it. certainly he knows that juno comes with his fair share of ... baggage. maybe he shouldn't be surprised by a dress setting him off, but he is anyway, since the implications of a dress, on someone like juno who scarcely dresses up, are heavy ones. not to mention that it's red. the knit of peter's eyebrows twist from concern to the brief symbolism of the cogs in his brain working around this new bit of information. information on juno, no less.

information isn't a rarity but a glimpse at juno's past life certainly is. it's been awhile, since he heard the story of his mother and his brother. perhaps it's a bit overdue ...

following the motion of juno's hand, peter settles the saree back on its rack. he's a professional liar, which means he can certainly pick out a lie when he hears one. but -- he also scarcely hears them from juno, the protector, savior, all around do-gooder, so he imagines this must be something relatively important, and a sensitive wound peter shouldn't go prodding his fingers around into. juno will tell him when he's ready, if he's ever ready. that's how trust works.

and he's attempting to trust juno again. so.

he steps away from the rack, dismissing the subject entirely, to set juno's mind at ease. he saunters elsewhere, other racks, lifting up different materials to test. )

How do you feel about green? Or blue? We've exhausted warm colors with the orange suit, anyway, it's time for something a little more ... winter-y. ( his lips turn up over his shoulder, showing up pointed canines that plump his lips. ) The weather on Mars is never like this, hm? We should take advantage.

Whatever gets us out of here fastest, how’s that?

[ juno gives a last look to it before turning away on his heel, but only following peter a few steps in the other direction, watching him pluck at dresses and fabrics, eyeing them as though he’s accepted what juno has said and chosen to move on. for now, he settles with just faintly following peter about, his own hands beginning to look through racks, though not in earnest. maybe if he’s stubborn enough, peter will just give up on him like he should have so many other times. he tries to look bored, disinterested, ready to go so that peter won’t waste too much of his own time but.

it gets a little more difficult the moment juno slides his hands into the fabrics, lets his calloused thumbs press into silken material, past far more cool colors than he wears. hell, most of his wardrobe consists of dark grays and navys, blacks and browns. easier to clean, easier to keep hidden when he needs to tail a suspect. and everything goes together so there’s no need to play matching games. even what dresses juno does own are very much lackluster in comparison to all of this here in front of him, a spread that seems far too decadent for his tastes. he’s pretty sure all of this? is going to fall apart in his rough hands. ]

Look, I think we need to just go, we’re never going to fi—

[ and then juno’s voice stops mid-phrase. an oddity, because at this point, he’s holding onto a blue set, just... admiring the shift in color and the patterns edging down the front of a long, blue and cream colored jacket-like sheath. gold embroidery in delicate swirls and layered over a set of blue trousers. the effect is stunning, one that catches juno’s eyes far longer than he’d originally intended.

he’s loathe to put it down. fingers curling in the fabric, lip unconsciously caught between his teeth.

there’s not objection to this one, but there’s also no sign that he’s going to just dump it in pete’rs arms. knowing juno, he’ll likely just put it back. ]

( peter has a collection of dresses draped over his arm by the point, ones he hasn't explicitly asked juno's permission or opinion on, but has held up to his form, hummed thoughtfully, and added to the pile. it's all art and rhythm to peter, finding the right shades of the right colors, knowing instinctively which will look the best on juno. which is -- a little hard, admittedly, when you're in love with the person you're dressing. juno would look good in a trash bag to peter, he'll look nothing less than exquisite in each and every one of these garments.

but he turns as juno cuts himself off, another rarity in line for the rest today. peter, in his animated way, lifts his eyebrows and swivels his mouth, walking back over to examine it over his shoulder, a little bit too close for comfort. it only takes a second for him to pluck it out of juno's hands and add it with the others, smiling appreciatively at him, free fingers clenched in juno's coat sleeve, tugging him towards the dressing rooms.

they're definitely getting this one. it's already the winner. but -- peter won't turn down the chance to play dress up, and if he's lucky, he might get juno to try on more than one. )

Alright, here's the selection. ( inside the changing booth, he sets them all on the rack, four or so dresses, the blue pants on the top. ) I trust you can put them on by yourself? Of course, I'll be out here if you need anything zippered or otherwise buckled, latched, tied ... And, naturally, I expect a fashion show. ( he crosses his legs on a nearby chair, picking at his nails. )

[ juno takes a look at the dresses that nureyev lays out in front of him in the booth, watching him as he strides over to take a seat in the dressing room like he owns the damn place (but isn't that always how nureyev walks around? like the world is his and he doesn't have a single care? what's that kind of feeling like?) he makes a sound that's somewhere between a derisive snort and an exasperated sigh as he casts one last glance out the door of the dressing room before shutting it.

in theory this should be easy. as much as nureyev wants some kind of walkabout for his own jollies or whatever, juno should just as easily be able to deny him, sit here and decide for himself what exactly he wants to wear to this party that nureyev is planning upstairs where the lights are always on and everyone is home, constantly abuzz with ideas, with plans, with starry-eyed ambitions that juno wishes he still had the faintest contrails of left by comets made up of hope that flew too fast and too far from his read years ago.

he puts aside the blue ensemble out of spite, maybe because nureyev had plucked it so readily from his hands like getting what juno had been ogling would get him something out of it? isn't that what everyone always wants, something? even nureyev. hell, he should because juno left him with nothing, didn't he? just a cold bed and a colder martian sunrise because past the dome, they're never warm.

when juno comes out of the dressing room for the first time, he almost doesn't recognize himself in the first mirror across from him, just next to where nureyev has taken a seat. he's pretty sure he wants to pull right back into the dressing room on sight - hair slightly ruffled from fussing with the cloth and draping, eyes a little bruised from the sleep he seldom gets in a place like this, the flesh of a scar drawn tight and white over his upper arm and the graze of a years old wound on the thin strip of stomach the outfit flashes. it's a steely gray color, as if picked purely for the irony (haha) of it all.

it's been years. years since he's worn anything like this, and it feels a little wrong, but there's a guilt that sits cold somewhere spreading from belly to hips that gets him to indulge nureyev's idea of showing off and.

well.

maybe a microscopic part of him, smaller than an atom, likes being looked at, even as he folds his arms petulantly below his chest and steps all the way out, leaving his shoes behind just as well. it feels almost natural while feeling unnatural, that being this dolled up already doesn't suit him, makes his skin crawl, forces his shoulders nearly up to his ears as he lets him have a look. ]

Happy?

( he is not often used to being on this side of the dressing room, and his occupied time without juno is frankly boring, staring at his nails and debating the color necessary to match the dress he hasn't picked out yet. it proves a fruitless endeavor, peter too indecisive for his own good and more likely to buy an entire rack of dresses before deciding on just one to fit his mood at the time, but it's something to fill the space of time. if he imagines juno getting undressed a door over, after all, his collar starts to feel a little hot.

trying to keep his thoughts elsewhere ends up being a moot point once juno exits, all high strung and tension in the air, obviously uncomfortable but never once more beautiful. maybe once. maybe many times. none especially come to mind now as peter is staring at him, a little awed but with his expression mostly controlled -- he expected this, after all. he knew juno would be a stunner in anything he put on, but. theory and practice are two separate concepts. juno showered in gray, with the fluorescent lights overheard drawing attention to each and every gem on him, starting at the dress and ending at his single, green eye -- it's reason to stare. more than reason, it demands it. his taunt shoulders and pouty lips do little to dissuade the look.

standing after a once over, peter crosses over to him, reaching smart fingers out to poke and prod at the dress, pulling fabric this way and that to suit him more perfectly, to drape more elegantly. at the end of it, he's poised behind juno, facing the mirror, watching the way his fingers pick at juno's skirt, helping it lay just right. the image in the mirror paints a perfect mirage of two happy people standing beside each other, a more insecure lover letting their other pick the dress they look most flawfree in. in truth, there are more than a few obstacles that keep the space between peter's fingers and juno's hips away from each other, more mountains to climb and rivers to cross. they'll probably never get back to the way they were before, but little steps have never really been their way on going about things. ( peter propositioned him for sex before juno even knew they were on a date. slow is not in his vocabulary. )

so, in a grand leap, peter presses a fond kiss to juno's cheek. when he smiles, he's smiling at him, and not the lady in the mirror. )

Divine. ( his hands don't move from their place at his hips, even with the skirt settled. ) Although, from the look of the pout on your lips, I expect this was some kind of attempt to spite me. Unfortunately for you, you'd look perfect in any of the dresses in this store or any other, so I remain -- thoroughly pleased. That said, I don't think this is the all encompassing One. Come, show us another.

[ the point of contact for the kiss practically explodes into heat and juno does his best to remain absolutely still against it, the barest sigh passing his lips as peter settles his hands on him. it's... well, it feels okay, for the moment. that they're alright. staring in this mirror, it's not at all like they've been through hell and back, like juno's gone and left him for a city that doesn't love him back. it feels like they've been doing this for a long time even if they've still got a hell of a lot to learn about each other. he knows far more about nureyev than nureyev could ever claim to know about him, research or not.

he glances down at bit at the hands stilled on his waist, lifting his own up to hold them for a moment before pulling away in response to all of that. ]

Alright, alright, then, [ his fingers slip up Peter's wrist, guide him towards the door and nudge with his knee a little, the skirts shifting out of place again. it's a nudge that could be considered rude by most, playful to maybe a handful of people that know juno. the timbre of his voice rough, the laughter behind it half-concealed. ] Out you go. A lady's gotta have his privacy.

[ a brief squeeze of the wrist there, a stroke of the thumb, before he shoos Peter out thoroughly and locks the door again, bracing his back against it a moment and letting himself feel the flush surge from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes, a brief moment he relishes in before shaking it off. he peels off the first dress slowly, deciding wisely not to treat it like the rest of his clothes (sort of half bundled up on the edge of the small bench in the dressing room). he hands it up and moves onto the next, a warm shade of peach that feels even softer and more luxurious on his fingertips. the first felt like a warm up, this second one makes juno feel a little bit more like he can do this. the phantom sensation of fingers on his hips, the kissed sensation tattooed on his cheek... well.

he might be a little more resolute to get this dress on, taking extra care with the draping, the fabric, more than he'd usually take, until he gets to the concept of the clasps and zipper in the back - which start out fairly low, but the reach is awkward and he gets about halfway up before realizing he may need to (unfortunately) call in for reinforcements.

which takes a good five to seven minutes for him to ask.

which results in the door cracking open just a bit, juno holding the top portion of the dress up, part of it draped over his shoulder, the other bare. it's... cold, but at the same time, juno (a dumbass all the same) is very much aware of how he looks sticking his neck out like a tease. ]

I need a little help with this one.

( shuffled out, peter chuckles airily but complies, palms up as he intends to go without a fuss. he does catalog that juno didn't get mad about the kiss, which does intrigue him in a deeper cockle of his heart that is generally reserved for late nights and earlier mornings -- certainly a window that opens up new boundaries to be tested, new structures to push and tease their durability. outside he keeps on his feet, checking his hair in a nearby mirror although it always stays as it was thanks to talented hands and quality products, wasting the time away. certainly, he'd rather be in the stall with juno, but he won't push his luck. not yet, at least.

though, juno takes his time with the next dress. peter might've thought it was a power move to get him to sweat under the collar, if he hadn't already checked that there weren't any windows for a certain damsel to go running out from lest he start feeling the pressure again. peter knows not to panic, even if juno is especially good at making him forget the last thirty years of training and sleuthing about, making him feel no more eloquent than the boy mag had found and taken under his wing. it's still a relief when juno calls to him, peeking out of the door like a blushing, untouched princess, asking the ever present knight in stolen armor for his help. peter takes a moment to soak in the look of him before nodding, taking a flamboyant bow just in front of him. )

Of course, Your Majesty.

( helping himself inside, he sees the parts juno couldn't quite reach. again, he takes a spot behind him, fingers latching on the zipper. )

Did you need help in, ( notably, his fingers tug the zipper down -- ) or out?

( he isn't too crass with his intents. the zipper sits midback and peter bends so he can purse his lips against the warm line of skin the peach fabric creates, following tongue with the teeth of the zipper, sealing his kisses inside and against him. certainly risque but not overly so -- he's polite at the end of it, pushing his nose on the soft space of skin behind juno's ear while the final clasp is locked into place. momentarily he admires his handwork, and not so momentarily he admires juno, letting his gaze rise and sink with each of juno's following curves. )

Thoughts on this one? I like it. ( the second long pause with but sitting in the air. ) But, we can do better!

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boops to continue here.

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god that phone tag was atrocious i’m so sorry

slander!!!!

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