( a visit to a museum is a search for beauty, truth, and meaning in our lives. )
in the G R E E K / R O M A N section - you are strangers who happen upon each other at the museum. what do you talk about? is it a debate about art or pure smalltalk? will you want to meet again?
a stop at the C A F E - all that wandering around art and history has made you hungry. how's the food here, dull or delicious? sit down and have a talk or see if you can smuggle a snack with you into the next exhibit without getting caught!
special E X H I B I T on the first floor - you've arranged to meet here! is it a romantic date or just a bit of a good time with friends or family? are you fascinated by what you see or already bored before you get started? under any circumstances, enjoy your outing together!
T O U R this way, follow along - you've signed up for the tour! are you alone or with someone? do you ask questions with interest or hang back and whisper among yourselves? are you actually more interested in your phone? do you maybe get lost on the way?
before "W O M A N with black S T O C K I N G S" - these paintings are rather raunchy and you're both suddenly feeling like a little round of public sex. well, this is your chance! who will see you behind that statue, that column or in that corner anyway?
E X I T, emergency only - is there a scenario that hasn't been covered or something else you'd like to do at the museum? this is your option!
How to play -
1. Comment with your character's name, fandom and preferences in the subject line.
2. Others comment to your top level with an option for a scenario and either leave a starter or ask you to start the scene.
[It wasn't in the hope of being laughed at that he told Grace he loved her, but she laughs so joyfully that he can't begrudge her. He knows better than to think she's laughing for a reason that should earn his ire. He might forgive her, anyway, even if she did. She's radiant when she smiles.
He watches the gamut of her reaction, chalking it up to the infinite mystery and complexity of womanhood. It wasn't clear to him how much it means to have love reaffirmed. He's suddenly sorry for not saying it back, those other times when she said it first.
He pulls their joined hands in, nearer their bodies, meaning to leave her hand on his chest when he finally lets go. She's rested her hand over his heart enough times herself, and he likes it. He brushes her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, utterly remorseless about making it harder to leave.]
Good. I hate partings.
[There's no great fondness in him for reunions either, so he likes to think they'll be able to pick up right where they left off, as though it's been no time at all. She needn't remind him that she has to leave, or why. He knows. The inspector is altogether too easy to picture loitering smugly in this very room, even without invoking his name.
Tommy's not sure if I'll miss you wants reaffirming too. He leans in for a kiss instead, a quick one, mindful of themselves and any approach.]
[Naturally, her hand does come to rest over his heart. She likes it, too. She might not be able to feel his heartbeat under the layers of his suit, but she knows it's there, and she knows his heart is hers. Grace tips her head into his touch, just as she leans into the kiss, albeit briefly. They are in public, after all. But her hand remains on his chest.]
Then let this be the first and last parting between us.
[In the meantime, she has a small gift for him. Her other hand slips into her coat pocket, where she pull out a small, corked vial, the small amount of liquid in it a golden amber.]
I don't have much in the way of keepsakes, but I thought you might like to have some of my perfume.
[Not worn every day, but often enough for him to know the subtle scent. It lingers on her skin between washing, and it was there when they made love. She feels a bit silly offering it to him, but. Perhaps before his confession of love she'd wanted to be sure she wouldn't be forgotten. Her emotions are floating left and right and up and down, and she shakes her head with another small laugh, embarrassed. He's not a man going off to war. She's the one leaving, and only for a little while.]
[Their first and last parting. It sounds like another toast, another vow, or a curse or a blessing. His ambition leaves no hope of his life becoming less violent in the near future. He's not sure he can countenance taking the same risks with her by his side as he would without. But that's a consideration for when, or indeed if, she returns.
During their time apart she might awaken to who and what he really is, and decide she wants nothing more to do with him. It wouldn't even have to mean a falling out of love, merely coming to her senses and using the better judgment he knows she has.
But she's not gone yet. She's still here, bearing a gift. He wants to take Grace into his arms. He wants to do things to her that they can't do in public. He might be thinking it loudly, such that she could see it in his eyes.
He knows the scent would be very recognisably hers. He remembers it well. It's a light fragrance, floral he thinks, though he couldn't name the flower. He'd been meaning to ask her about it, to file that information quietly away. It was overpowered at the pub, if she wore it there at all. He first became aware of it when he took her to the races. It's never left his mind completely since. He swallows, feeling his throat constrict a little with emotion better unexpressed.]
No, you're not ridiculous.
[The gift isn't, at any rate. She might be, for thinking anyone could forget her in the space of a few months. He holds his hand out, palm upturned, for her to place the vial in. He already has a plan for it. He'll pull the cork for a minute or so when he goes to bed and hope it's enough to let him dream of her.]
I was thinking how I'd have to get by without you. One less thing to do without, now.
[It isn't quite as good as when the perfume is on her very skin, or when it's in the air to signify that she's just left or entered the room. It's a good keepsake nonetheless.]
[He likes her little gift. Grace can't help but smile, drawing no attention to what she sees in his eyes besides taking a half-step closer. Too close to be standing together in a museum, but they might as well be the only two people in the place. One hand on his chest still, the other presses the vial into his palm, closing his fingers over it. There, she lets her own remain, giving his hand a squeeze.]
I'll miss yours.
[He doesn't sing, but she's grown used to that Birmingham accent and the way it rolls so smoothly out of his chest. Most of all she'll miss him and those smiles she can coax out of him, but Grace doesn't make it a point to draw attention to it, worried she might scare them away as if he doesn't realize he does it. She's already looking forward to the smile that will greet her when she returns.
No need to dwell on the time until then.]
Now, how am I going to get by without you? I take it you didn't bring me anything.
[It wasn't expected, and so she's only daring to tease him, evident with the exaggerated lift of her brows. There's no forgetting Tommy Shelby, especially after what they've experienced together.]
[When she goes, she'll be taking his heart with her. It can't be helped. She's entrusted with the part of him that still feels and loves like any ordinary man. That's gone forever if she doesn't return. His eyes rove over her face, drinking in every detail, as though he hasn't already committed it all to memory.
Grace is only teasing him, and only because she knows for a fact that he's capable of playing along. He wouldn't want to discourage her from trying. He can take a joke, sometimes, but he's equally capable of being humourless and rendering himself less fun to be around. There are those times he's morose and pragmatic enough to bring the mood down. He winces visibly for about half a second, then frowns and shakes his head.]
I don't have anything for you.
[That's the problem, isn't it? He wants to have more to offer. She deserves everything, and there are still many obstacles to overcome before he'll be able to give her that. In the meantime, there isn't much he considers unequivocally his rather than theirs. And that aside, there's still the least of his concerns: although a keepsake needn't have any material value, it's beyond him to imagine what might be sentimental to her. It stings him to think along these lines, and that's neither Grace's fault nor was it her intention, but on the other hand, small pains like this light the fire under him. He's not so easily defeated. He can speak with absolute conviction. If she hasn't already, she'll realise he's not talking about some little token to tide them over in their separation.]
[Grace can see the wheels turning. She only meant to tease, not make him worry over not having enough for her, or whatever the exact phrasing his mind uses with himself. It breaks her heart. Grace takes the lapels of his coat in her hands, holding them tightly and looking at him, wishing he'd understand something very simple.]
You're enough.
[If he wasn't, she wouldn't be promising to come back.]
I just need you here, Tommy.
[The worst thing he could do is change his mind in the time she's gone. They can figure out the rest later.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madscenes) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
jamjarring2019-12-17 03:31 pm
no subject
He watches the gamut of her reaction, chalking it up to the infinite mystery and complexity of womanhood. It wasn't clear to him how much it means to have love reaffirmed. He's suddenly sorry for not saying it back, those other times when she said it first.
He pulls their joined hands in, nearer their bodies, meaning to leave her hand on his chest when he finally lets go. She's rested her hand over his heart enough times herself, and he likes it. He brushes her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, utterly remorseless about making it harder to leave.]
Good. I hate partings.
[There's no great fondness in him for reunions either, so he likes to think they'll be able to pick up right where they left off, as though it's been no time at all. She needn't remind him that she has to leave, or why. He knows. The inspector is altogether too easy to picture loitering smugly in this very room, even without invoking his name.
Tommy's not sure if I'll miss you wants reaffirming too. He leans in for a kiss instead, a quick one, mindful of themselves and any approach.]
no subject
Then let this be the first and last parting between us.
[In the meantime, she has a small gift for him. Her other hand slips into her coat pocket, where she pull out a small, corked vial, the small amount of liquid in it a golden amber.]
I don't have much in the way of keepsakes, but I thought you might like to have some of my perfume.
[Not worn every day, but often enough for him to know the subtle scent. It lingers on her skin between washing, and it was there when they made love. She feels a bit silly offering it to him, but. Perhaps before his confession of love she'd wanted to be sure she wouldn't be forgotten. Her emotions are floating left and right and up and down, and she shakes her head with another small laugh, embarrassed. He's not a man going off to war. She's the one leaving, and only for a little while.]
Am I ridiculous?
no subject
During their time apart she might awaken to who and what he really is, and decide she wants nothing more to do with him. It wouldn't even have to mean a falling out of love, merely coming to her senses and using the better judgment he knows she has.
But she's not gone yet. She's still here, bearing a gift. He wants to take Grace into his arms. He wants to do things to her that they can't do in public. He might be thinking it loudly, such that she could see it in his eyes.
He knows the scent would be very recognisably hers. He remembers it well. It's a light fragrance, floral he thinks, though he couldn't name the flower. He'd been meaning to ask her about it, to file that information quietly away. It was overpowered at the pub, if she wore it there at all. He first became aware of it when he took her to the races. It's never left his mind completely since. He swallows, feeling his throat constrict a little with emotion better unexpressed.]
No, you're not ridiculous.
[The gift isn't, at any rate. She might be, for thinking anyone could forget her in the space of a few months. He holds his hand out, palm upturned, for her to place the vial in. He already has a plan for it. He'll pull the cork for a minute or so when he goes to bed and hope it's enough to let him dream of her.]
I was thinking how I'd have to get by without you. One less thing to do without, now.
[It isn't quite as good as when the perfume is on her very skin, or when it's in the air to signify that she's just left or entered the room. It's a good keepsake nonetheless.]
I'll miss your voice, but that you can't bottle.
no subject
I'll miss yours.
[He doesn't sing, but she's grown used to that Birmingham accent and the way it rolls so smoothly out of his chest. Most of all she'll miss him and those smiles she can coax out of him, but Grace doesn't make it a point to draw attention to it, worried she might scare them away as if he doesn't realize he does it. She's already looking forward to the smile that will greet her when she returns.
No need to dwell on the time until then.]
Now, how am I going to get by without you? I take it you didn't bring me anything.
[It wasn't expected, and so she's only daring to tease him, evident with the exaggerated lift of her brows. There's no forgetting Tommy Shelby, especially after what they've experienced together.]
no subject
Grace is only teasing him, and only because she knows for a fact that he's capable of playing along. He wouldn't want to discourage her from trying. He can take a joke, sometimes, but he's equally capable of being humourless and rendering himself less fun to be around. There are those times he's morose and pragmatic enough to bring the mood down. He winces visibly for about half a second, then frowns and shakes his head.]
I don't have anything for you.
[That's the problem, isn't it? He wants to have more to offer. She deserves everything, and there are still many obstacles to overcome before he'll be able to give her that. In the meantime, there isn't much he considers unequivocally his rather than theirs. And that aside, there's still the least of his concerns: although a keepsake needn't have any material value, it's beyond him to imagine what might be sentimental to her. It stings him to think along these lines, and that's neither Grace's fault nor was it her intention, but on the other hand, small pains like this light the fire under him. He's not so easily defeated. He can speak with absolute conviction. If she hasn't already, she'll realise he's not talking about some little token to tide them over in their separation.]
But I will, and it's not far off. I swear I will.
<3!
You're enough.
[If he wasn't, she wouldn't be promising to come back.]
I just need you here, Tommy.
[The worst thing he could do is change his mind in the time she's gone. They can figure out the rest later.]