Mad, Bad, and Dangerous To Know

Posted on 15 Apr 2015 @ 8:11am by Ensign Arandon Khnailmnae Ph.D. & Commander Scarlet Blake
Edited on on 15 Apr 2015 @ 8:12am

2,811 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: Endurance, Mars
Timeline: Years Ago...

ON:

Endurance had started as the first industrial city on Mars and retained much of that character. There were towering, twisting buildings of metal and a clamoring on the streets, with a faint mist giving the streets a certain haze. In this particular district there were cobblestone streets, which in conjunction with the industrial haze, made Arandon's simple walk down the sidewalk seem entirely more cinematic than it actually was. It was like something out of London, Liverpool or Berlin, but up above though, there was something entirely different. Just off in the distance towering Mesas, and in the background of it all, the brilliant Martian night sky.

It was purer than Earth's, even in the countryside. It was a deep indigo with stars piercing the color to form little white breaks in the sky. It was wonderful and something Arandon never tired of. It stirred something within him, something that couldn't be replicated, or described.

Coming to his destination Arandon looked up at the old-style building that was intentionally scuffed up to add 'character'. It was a slightly pretentious effect, but it suited the occupants of the building nicely.

Moving through the building up to the top floor, Arandon looked at the door for a moment before entering. There was loud music playing, which could only mean one thing. The artist was at work. Opening the door, he peered in through the opening he had made. Looking around he saw the familiar owner of the apartment standing on the far side, doing what he did best: self-criticism. He had a stern, contemplative look on his face and Arandon gave a gentle smile at the familiar sight. Stepping in, he closed the door carefully behind him, the music masking the creaks of the door.

The dark haired man was motionless, just staring at the canvas in front of him. It was set up in front of the window, the spectacular sky forming a suitable backdrop for the intense piece of unfinished art. It was clear he'd been at it for hours. His hands and clothes were flecked with paint and his long, dark hair still tied back out of the way. He made no move to work though, just staring at what he'd done so far, the frown set almost painfully into the features made up of stern, almost aristocratic lines.

Without warning, he reached out for the jar of dirty water that he'd been washing his brushes in, his arm pulling back ready to chuck it over the painting.

Arandon was absorbed in the beauty of the work mixing with the music that it nearly deprived his senses of witnessing the frustrated artist picking up his paint jar in frustration. "No wait!" Arandon's softer voice strained to be heard over the music, even as he shouted. He nearly jogged over to the man's side and took a better view of the painting as the man delayed his violent action of iconoclasm. "I like it," Arandon's tone was a bit perky, a bit playful, trying to encourage the man to stop critiquing his own outstanding work.

His breath catching in his throat, Raphael Enite turned to watch him with wide, blue eyes, not having heard Arandon's approach. It took a moment or two for him to come back to the real world after being lost in his work. For what it was worth. He looked back to the painting with something close to confusion at Arandon's words, his head tilting to the side as he contemplated it, shaking slowly from side to side, making the long, dark hair sway with the movement. "I can't get it right."

Arandon did his best not to sound like a total amateur, someone who was just being supportive for the sake of being kind. "You will," His head and voice nodded off, growing quiet. After a moment he put a hand on Raphael's shoulder and though he could not see it, his eyes trained firmly on his work, Arandon gave a small smile.

Raphael's body relaxed at the touch, the muscles easing and his frown relenting to an unsure crease across his brow. He looked back to the painting, nodding his head toward it. "It's the storm," he said quietly, motioning to it, his hand making a curve in the air, like the journey of the storm itself. "Last month...."

Well the storm wasn't quite as multi-colored as the painting, but Arandon rather preferred it that way. It was the maelstrom above the city, looming like a swirling, electrical portal above the city. It positively biblical, like a painting Arandon had once seen depicting the destruction of some Earth city. Pampey? Pompey? Whatever it was, it looked similar to that. It was a beautiful visual but terrifying to behold, even if this image was a more abstract and conceptual. "It's quite dramatic," He said with smile.

"Like you?" he said lightly, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his full lips, some of the weight lifted from him now that Arandon had eased his mind over his work. And to him it really was his work. His life's work. As if it were trapped inside of him and ached until he could pour it out, but sometimes, when his mind was confused, the art came out confused too.

Arandon turned his head and smiled a bit. His relationship with Raphael had never turned to where he wanted it to go. A man obsessed with his art had little time for serious relationships, or in Raphael's case casual ones as well. When he was absorbed in his art he was sometimes a dangerous man to know, prone to mood swings and a broodish behavior. Arandon had learned by now how to talk him down, which sometimes meant leaving him to stew in his anger. "I don't know if I'm quite like this..." He said a bit playfully, staring at the painting.

"You can be. You could be," Raphael murmured as he looked across to him, his eyes a darker shade of blue as he watched him. He moved up behind Arandon, his face close as he watched him, his hand lifting to touch his fingertips to the pale skin of his neck. "I need to paint you."

His words were soft and his touch was so enticing, it made Arandon feel a bit weak, not just from swooning under his touch but suffering under it. Their first meeting Raphael had examined Arandon's features, pulling and manipulating the position of his head in the light. "I..." Arandon could only manage to whisper that, all the while he stood perfectly still, letting Raphael continue to appraise him.

"What?" Raphael said softly at the hesitation, his eyes darkening a shade as he caught hold of his chin, turning his face to watch him, his gaze unrelenting. "You won't say no, will you? You couldn't...."

It was perhaps indicative of Arandon's mindset about Raphael that instead of being frightened by his intensity, he became enthralled. Perhaps there was an element of fear, but it fed into a somewhat sensuous feeling of being wanted, needed by him. "I..." Arandon said, his voice coming out as a whisper. He wanted to nod his head to make his affirmation more clear but he dared not shake free of the feeling of touch, which produced intense reactions all over his body. Hopefully his staying still would tell Raphael that he wouldn't refuse him. Arandon swallowed hard in the period in between his words and what Raphael would do next, his cold hands not letting go of his gentle hold of Arandon's face.

"Good," Raphael whispered as he held his eyes, close enough to him for his breath to play across Arandon's lips. He traced his fingertip up the line of his jaw, around the shell of his ear and under the hair. He brushed the locks aside, so he could see the pointed tip of his ear, a small smile curving the corner of his lips. "And I want to see these when I do..."

Were it anyone else Arandon would have gotten defensive almost immediately but under his touch, under his power, Arandon gave a soft nod. "Okay." He said, his eyes wandering over Raphael's features, taking in the sensation of his skin, however little there was of it, on him. There was something about being touched that made Arandon a bit weak, it was always like being comforted and it made him shake and butterflies appear in his stomach but he loved it.

The smile of satisfaction was clear to see on Raphael, as well as the relief in his eyes as he almost tenderly stroked the tip of his ear with fondness. It represented all that was fascinating about this young man. The collision of blood and passions, the centuries of battle bred blood with the centuries of pleasure seeking pacifism. He was all things. And yet seemed to hide so much. He wanted to paint him, to see it all, to show it all. "Soon," he whispered, shaking his head. "How...are you?" he finally asked, almost awkward with it.

It was like being pulled out of a dream and Arandon closed his eyes to hinge on Raphael's words, and their echoes. "Fine." He said softly, his words drawing out the last of his breath.

"Is that good?" Raphael asked with genuine question, never having been good at social interactions or being natural around people. He moved away abruptly, grabbing a bottle of alcohol. He slung two glasses on the low table next to the sofas, pouring them generous amounts without questioning the measure. He flung himself down onto the sofa, stretching his whole body across the length of it, lounging as he took a decent mouthful and stretched with a sigh.

Arandon liked the unobstructed view he had of Raphael's body. Strewn out on the couch he looked like a sort of male Venus. Were it that he had the ability, it was certainly something he would like to paint. "Yeah." He said with a slight smirk and a nod. University was going well, as was the gig he had at the Institute part time. "Better when you're around though." He said it like a friend, casual and bright, though it was just a mask to display his true feelings, even in a limited form.

"Me?" Raphael seemed genuinely surprised, as if he'd never quite understood just why Arandon spent time with him, or indeed, why he kept coming back. "I'm not sure why," he replied honestly, reaching for a thin cigarillo, lying on his back as he slipped it between his lips and lit it deftly before letting a stream of smoke escape upwards.

Arandon gave a short, mussing sigh. "They just are." He said happily, moving over towards the window, getting a better view of him, but away from the smoke which often annoyed his lungs. "Perhaps I like creative people." He added, leaning and resting his head on the window frame. He once again added a modifier, to make his feelings a bit more platonic, in word at least.

Raphael ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip as he watched the ceiling, stretching his arm over his head. "Sure I'm not just another little seedling of yours, Arandon?"

Was he? Arandon would have liked nothing better than to handle him, tenderly care for him to encourage his growth, be by his side. "In that you require a lot of attention?" He asked with a smile, trying to turn the truth, once again, into a joke to make it more palpable.

"I've always wondered if that's how you see me," he said softly, shaking his head as he used a finger to swipe through the smoke to make patterns. "Another pet project..." he chuckled softly, clearly not bothered by it.

"Maybe you're the subject of my non-traditional art piece." Arandon smiled, making a frame with his fingers over the image of Raphael strewn out on the couch.

Rolling onto his side, Raphael looked directly at him, holding his eyes fearlessly as he rolled the cigarillo slowly between his fingertips and then between his lips. "Then what is it you see, artist?"

Arandon smiled. "A primitive portrait..." He started, biting his lip as he narrowed his eyes to concentrate on the image of Raphael's eyes at the center of his fingered frame. "...of a young artist." Arandon lightly grinded his teeth, mulling over the image as he adjusted the frame his fingers made in this playful exercise. "He's got... beautiful eyes, and nice hair, unkept but it gives a disheveled look that makes him seem..." Arandon sighed for a moment. "... that much more real." He said, almost in a whisper.

"Hm..." it didn't happen often with Raphael, but a small, playful and, most importantly, honest smile came to him with the words as he motioned to him with a lazy hand. "Maybe not an artist. I think you're more a writer with a sweet mouth like that...."

Arandon smirked and put his hands down. "Good to know I have some artistic capability." He let Raphael's outstretched arm hang there for a moment, watching it, trying to interpret it. Was it an invitation? Was it the one he wanted? Was he reading too much in to a simple gesture by allowing his emotional pining for Raphael cloud his appraisal of the situation.

Raphael just watched him in silence, his arm outstretched to him, fingers almost reaching for Arandon. He was lost in the moment, his features and eyes soft with it as he took his closest friend in the world in. Even if he had never told him that he was. He wouldn't even know how to form such personal words. He couldn't articulate his feelings, only paint them. His lips parted as his fingers curled, almost as if they could draw Arandon closer, to feel the warmth and life of him. How real he was. When he rarely felt real himself. His tongue ran over his dry bottom lip, and he took a sharp breath, as if about to speak, as if he would finally say it.

The fleeting moment passed all too quickly when Raphael moved abruptly, rocking himself up and off the sofa to stride across the room, as if to physically distance himself from whatever had been happening, busying himself with his painting instead.

Arandon nodded, and looked down at the floor, resigning himself to the periphery in Raphael's life, something akin to a distant third behind his art and himself. "It'll be nice...." Arandon said, continuing to nod, trying to keep himself busy. "... when it's finished." He said, looking up.

"Hm..." Raphael gave a soft, non-committal grunt as he picked up the brush to mix the right shade of purple. His breath was tight and his mind was already losing itself back to his work. "It better be..."

Arandon looked down, a bit defeated, and nodded his head vacantly once more. Raphael's art came first, he didn't know why he thought a paradigm shift would ensue just because he wanted it to, because he had feelings for him. Arandon wasn't nave enough to believe in the bland versions of love perpetuated in fairytales, but he was impossibly enraptured with the romantic ideals of tempestuous and meaningful romance portrayed in literature and poetry. Broody, sensitive artist comes across the love and interest of a self invested and introverted student.... oh the entire hypothetical scenario was enough to make him swoon, but it wasn't going to happen. Part of him said 'maybe not yet', but the better part of him knew better. Best Arandon might do is Raphael's occasional bedmate, like he had been to so many others, but this time, asking for more was certainly out of the question and Arandon was committed to preserving what glimmer of an entanglement he had in Raphael's life. He wasn't going to risk what little he had on the pie in the sky chance his attraction might be reciprocated. The music his thoughts made were so sweet, and that was as deep, as intimate a connection as Arandon could think of, it would have to be enough.

"I should let you work." Arandon said in a near whisper, easing himself off the window. There was no acknowledgement from Raphael and Arandon kicked himself for expecting one as he moved to the door. Taking one last look behind him, admiring the artist at work, Arandon stood in the doorway for a few minutes but another reflexive mental kick in the leg came again and Arandon said goodbye to his idealized artist, trading a vision of him for a view of the bustling streets of Endurance.

OFF:

Ensign Arandon Khnailmnae Ph.D
Botanist
USS Galileo

&

Raphael
Arist
Endurance, Mars
[As Played By Kate/Blake]

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