5 Works in Stasis (Webcomic)
Dezhrean hates morning practices. 7:30 is far too early to be awake, let alone worrying about landing quads and whether or not his step sequence is perfect for competition yet. He’s not even a person until nine, it's just his soulless body skating around the rink.
So why, in the name of the goddess, was there a herd of grown men occupying his ice when he arrived for said practice this morning.
college hockey + ice skating au
Fandoms: Stasis (Webcomic)
12 Dec 2017
Inspired by Pablo Neruda's "Sonnet Xvii", and a missing scene from Mandeville...
"Her mercy creates unspeakable perfection, but her cruelty keeps it from our lips. That is the most beautiful pain."
dezhrean has an affliction.
On his nineteenth birthday, Dezhrean wakes up alone.
The crowd shifts and seems to eject Vier, who stumbles and catches himself ribs-first against the bartop. He has a flush high on his cheeks and a smile that he can’t seem to control—he beams at Dezhrean, giggles, and then slumps into the empty stool on Dezhrean’s free side. Vier has an empty glass which he is holding very carefully, considering that it’s empty.
“Hi, Dezzy,” he says, eyes fever-bright. “Fun party, huh?” Then he giggles again.
Vier Aviglon does not, in Dezhrean’s experience, giggle. Which leads him to pluck the mug from Vier’s hands, place it firmly on the bar, and ask, “Vier, are you drunk?”
Vier tries to prop his elbow on the counter, but his sleeve slides on the slick wood. He seems to have lost his doublet at some point, and his tunic laces are loose, so the collar falls open to show the same flush on his cheeks creeping down his chest. “Maybe—ah, maybe a little bit,” he says, through a sudden hiccup. He just keeps smiling, staring at Dezhrean and grinning like he couldn’t possibly be any more pleased with whatever it is he sees.