( what a coincidental occurrence that, at that very moment, a figure steps outside the doors of the clothing shop with big bags in tow, dangling daintily off the sharp bones of his wrists. certainly the modeled form of elegance could be lusted after, bespoke dress clinging to his lean stature in all the right ways, a spokesperson for fashion to the fullest, down to the very red bottoms of his high heeled shoes.
peter nureyev, the flesh and the bones, sighing softly at the sight of rain.
and then turning, debating reentering the shop to find a few more articles to pluck from hangers, when his own eye catches on something shiny and -- not new. not exactly. )
Oh, ( he says this once in surprise -- a moment, fair enough, before he regains himself. calm, collected. the ever present half-smirk of all knowing teases is absent from his face, but his expression does seem open, genuine, and in that, full of lies. ) Juno! What a surprise. I hadn't expected ...
( his eyes trail to the image juno's sketched on the window -- it might look like a thousand different things, but peter is probably the only one who would really know ... and he feels an ache, wide and empty, burrowing in the depth of his stomach, bugs and maggots of feelings that never really did anything other than pester and hurt biting away at him from the inside out. he's stuck by the instinct to run away, from juno, from the illness of heartsickness, but the rain effectively traps him, so.
he swallows, shakes his head. don't draw attention to it. )
raaaaaain
peter nureyev, the flesh and the bones, sighing softly at the sight of rain.
and then turning, debating reentering the shop to find a few more articles to pluck from hangers, when his own eye catches on something shiny and -- not new. not exactly. )
Oh, ( he says this once in surprise -- a moment, fair enough, before he regains himself. calm, collected. the ever present half-smirk of all knowing teases is absent from his face, but his expression does seem open, genuine, and in that, full of lies. ) Juno! What a surprise. I hadn't expected ...
( his eyes trail to the image juno's sketched on the window -- it might look like a thousand different things, but peter is probably the only one who would really know ... and he feels an ache, wide and empty, burrowing in the depth of his stomach, bugs and maggots of feelings that never really did anything other than pester and hurt biting away at him from the inside out. he's stuck by the instinct to run away, from juno, from the illness of heartsickness, but the rain effectively traps him, so.
he swallows, shakes his head. don't draw attention to it. )
It's good to see you're well.