They're better. I've managed to split and cross-plant some, so the numbers should be coming back up. I already did that with some for the greenhouse in Northtown though, so not all of them were up to it. It's something though.
[It is a hassle, Dorian knows, but then, Judas does love to suffer. In a way, he thinks, Judas should thank him for that disaster. He knows better than to say that.
For now.]
Did I ever mention how very grateful I am to you? I don't think I'd bother eating at all if you didn't take care of it.
--Really? I guess you probably don't need to eat after all, huh... I never really thought about that. [There's a beat before he grins.] I should stop feeding you, Romans are always strains on our resources.
I'm glad, though. You do so much for me, I want to be able to repay it somehow.
[He raises an eyebrow with the return of the grin.] All about my hair today? Thanks for being high maintenance. It paints a better picture than parasite.
[It startles a laugh of indignation out of him.] 'High maintenance'? Oh, I'll show you high maintenance. [Dorian gets to his feet.] Come on, help me pack this up. We're moving to another spot.
What? Now you're just trying to be difficult! [Judas laughs, shaking his head.] Alright, where to now? We already determined there's no Judas trees around. As much as my birth is a hanging occasion.
You are relentless. [Dorian wraps it all up very quickly, grabs Judas's arm, and starts dragging him along.] Just trust me. I'll know it when I see it.
[Dorian has his eyes ahead, but he is looking for something very particular. A few minutes pass before he picks what he wants, and then he walks straight to it: an old, sturdy-looking tree, with heavy branches. Dorian throws the blanket over his shoulder and passes the basket to Judas.] Hold this for me.
[And he takes a running launch at the tree, getting a foot-hold in a knot, grasping a lower tree branch, and yanking himself on his own momentum onto a thick branch that can comfortable seat the pair of them. Dorian balances on the branch, laying the blanket up over top.
He grins down at Judas.] Toss the basket up to me. We're eating up here.
[Judas takes the basket without question and watches with some level of awe. Dorian always pulls out some surprise. He passes the basket up when prompted, and finding a good footing, starts climbing. Of course, first he has to wrap the shawl tighter around himself so as not to trip.]
I'm not sure if that's high maintenance, but you're full of surprises anyway. Fickle, rather.
[And just like that, the bright smile returns.] Good. [Dorian reassembles their food. Of course, now there is the added challenge of not knocking the food over and letting it all go to waste. Have fun, Judas!]
[Judas will take the challenge of the precarious balancing. Mainly by setting things on his own lap. Certainly the best solution is to guard it himself.] It's nice up here... Even if it's a dumb spot for a picnic.
And you're an idiotic person to have a picnic with. It's consistent. [What a treasurer. That just forces Dorian to sit closer so he can get at the food.]
You could, but then I might be forced to shove you out of the tree. Not a deterrent to you directly, I know, but all that food you're protecting may protest.
[The ultimate in threats, right there. The wine glass is firmly placed in Judas's hand.] Drink up, darling.
'Darling'? How much have you had to drink? [There goes the eyebrow shooting up again. Oh well, Judas takes a drink, instinctively huddling over the food a little more.] ...And don't even say that. I'll be on edge for ever more.
Not nearly enough. [Dorian will answer that no matter how much he has drunk.] Do you want a list of pet names? [He slips his hands around the back of Judas's neck, pulling him closer with seeming artless attention to not unbalancing them both. When he speaks, he does so quietly, in a voice only for the man across from him.] My darling, my dear, my sweet one, my love, my traitor, my Judah. [With a smile, he takes a kiss.] The important part, of course, is the possessive pronoun. As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are. Everything means nothing except what we share.
[Though he shies to the touch, Judas doesn't flinch in the same way he might normally. There's the blush, mostly. Dorian's so embarrassing. And then at once there is both a leap and sinking feeling somewhere deep in his chest. It pierces and pulls in its awful hope, some impossible happiness that mustn't be allowed. Caught up in the isolating feeling that simple term brings, Judas hardly reacts to what comes after. Not until he deliberately forces himself to, to pretend for both his sake and Dorian's that he misheard.
'Everything means nothing except what we share'. He'll choose to hang on to those words, at least. 'As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are'. A hand moves to wrap around Dorian's, more Dorian's wrist than his hand, and Judas returns the kiss. Tears threaten, but he feels he must keep them back. It would be stupid to cry now, because of such a line. So instead of addressing any of the points which truly touch him for better or worse, Judas will latch onto something else entirely. Make a joke of it. Though the wavering of the tears he must keep in, come out in his voice.]
'Your traitor' is an interesting one. I thought I was Christ's traitor.
[Even Dorian is not deaf enough to mishear that tremble. He stops, but when he draws away, he leaves Judas his wrist to hold. Dorian studies Judas's face, looking for the cracks he has pressed into now.
Distracted, Dorian explains himself with more honesty than confidence, still seeking his mistake in the hope that he will not repeat it.] You betrayed him, but I'm the one who can call you 'traitor' without hurting you. That makes the word mine to have. Not anyone else's.
[A small smile rises. Part in earnest, part in an effort to push back those thoughts and tears. It doesn't matter what you are, those words may not have been directed at what they hit in Judas. But it doesn't matter. They carry that implication with 'traitor' and 'Judah' preceding them. In his mind, anyway. How can anyone be so kind to him without even realising it? Perhaps because everything means nothing except what they share. Those phrases justify eachother.
Judas' thumb strokes the back of Dorian's hand.] It's strange, but true. You could call me anything and I wouldn't take offense or be hurt, no matter how awful it would be from anyone else. Myself included. [Unless it's kind words, it seems. Those may hurt more for coming from Dorian, given the right ones.]
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For now.]
Did I ever mention how very grateful I am to you? I don't think I'd bother eating at all if you didn't take care of it.
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I'm glad, though. You do so much for me, I want to be able to repay it somehow.
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[He follows as he's told, watching Dorian.]
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[And he takes a running launch at the tree, getting a foot-hold in a knot, grasping a lower tree branch, and yanking himself on his own momentum onto a thick branch that can comfortable seat the pair of them. Dorian balances on the branch, laying the blanket up over top.
He grins down at Judas.] Toss the basket up to me. We're eating up here.
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I'm not sure if that's high maintenance, but you're full of surprises anyway. Fickle, rather.
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[The ultimate in threats, right there. The wine glass is firmly placed in Judas's hand.] Drink up, darling.
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'Everything means nothing except what we share'. He'll choose to hang on to those words, at least. 'As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are'. A hand moves to wrap around Dorian's, more Dorian's wrist than his hand, and Judas returns the kiss. Tears threaten, but he feels he must keep them back. It would be stupid to cry now, because of such a line. So instead of addressing any of the points which truly touch him for better or worse, Judas will latch onto something else entirely. Make a joke of it. Though the wavering of the tears he must keep in, come out in his voice.]
'Your traitor' is an interesting one. I thought I was Christ's traitor.
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Distracted, Dorian explains himself with more honesty than confidence, still seeking his mistake in the hope that he will not repeat it.] You betrayed him, but I'm the one who can call you 'traitor' without hurting you. That makes the word mine to have. Not anyone else's.
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Judas' thumb strokes the back of Dorian's hand.] It's strange, but true. You could call me anything and I wouldn't take offense or be hurt, no matter how awful it would be from anyone else. Myself included. [Unless it's kind words, it seems. Those may hurt more for coming from Dorian, given the right ones.]
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i didn't want to write this tag
Dorian Gray has Bad views
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