11 ♦ Blue like water; blue like Heaven is all of the time

[rhapsody_in]

[Spam for Motorcycle Boy]
[Bleu felt like she’d come back from the dead. The burst of consciousness and the knowledge of her body around her were familiar, a rush of sensation she slammed into suddenly. She groaned, sat up, and pulled the sheets around her waist. She was in her own bed, her room looking much the same as it did when she’d drifted off and, sleepily, scrawled “do not boff the Bleu” on her arm.

Much the same. At the time her oil lamps hadn’t been lit, there had been no fish in glass containers, and there certainly wasn’t a man working on a painting at the table.]

Piper? [Standing immediately, she strides to him and lays one hand on the back of his chair, looking first at him and then, deeply, at his work. She falls silent; all he can do is smile.]

[Video]
So it happened again. The stars aligned, the earth moved, tragedy struck, and I missed it. [Bleu pouts, looking not like a woman who was just spared a month of horror but a little girl denied dessert.] All I have to say is, I’m disappointed no one drew on me.

Who’s got the gory details?

Comments

[velocette]

[He can't hear her--can't hear anything right now--but he feels her against his chair and there's only one person it could be. He's smiling without even realizing it, and he leans back to look up at her.]

I wanted to model this after Monet. But I don't know what colors I grabbed from the art room.

[His hearing might return as she answers, or it might not. Mostly he just wants to watch her talk; probably he can pick up some of what she says just by her expressions.]

[rhapsody_in]

[Bleu moves her hand from the chair to the back of his neck, brushing her fingertips through his hair. When he meets her eyes she leans in to kiss him on the forehead before looking back to the picture. The colors are out of place: saffron where the lavender should be, grey instead of brown. But although they clash, he makes them blend into each other, shades them together beautifully.]

It looks better this way.

[velocette]

[He smiles, happy for the compliment; he believes in subjectivity enough that he doesn't assume she's saying it just to be kind.

He turns the chair a bit, so he can pull her down onto his lap.]

I missed you. [He sounds surprised, as if he's never missed anything before. It's a nice surprise.]

[rhapsody_in]

[She's not being kind, just thoughtful, and is still looking at the painting when he pulls her onto his lap. When he does, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and smiles up at him.]

I didn't leave.

[velocette]

No...but it's hard to say you were here. The time passed faster for you than it did for me I think, if a coma is anything like sleep.

[He's been in a coma here once before, and once at home, but neither one left much impression on him.]

I think we should get off the boat for a while, next port.

[americasdirtiest]

[Mickey looks... different, but in a way that's not entirely clear. Maybe it's just the shadowy, dim lighting, but it seems like something in his face has changed. Aged, perhaps, or just hardened. And yet-- his eyes are unusually soft, reflecting both surprise and relief when he turns on the screen and sees her.]

Jesus. It's like a fucking reunion today.

[rhapsody_in]

That bad, huh? [She immediately notices the new stony look to his face, the way he seems to hold it differently, but he still looks at her the same way. Still Mickey.]

But not a party until I woke up.

[americasdirtiest]

[He almost smiles, despite himself. It's good to see her. It's good to see someone he suspects won't care about what he has to say next:]

I'm one of you assholes now.

[He holds up his left hand, grimacing. The tattoos are still there. The ring -- his warden item -- is gone.]

[rhapsody_in]

Oh no, you were always an asshole.

[Punishment: in Bleu's world, something that happens to other people.]

[americasdirtiest]

[That time, it works: he actually does smile.]

Yeah, but now I'm an asshole without a gun, back to showering with a bunch of other dudes. Guess it's time to start watching my mouth.

[Unlikely.]

[strangehistorian]

How much do you know already?

[rhapsody_in]

Not nearly enough.

[strangehistorian]

I'm afraid that doesn't help me much as to where to begin...

What is the last thing you remember happening to the ship as a whole?

[rhapsody_in]

Very little. I fell asleep, let me check... [There's a blurred screen and a shuffling of papers.] Five, six weeks ago? That can't be right.

[strangehistorian]

A long coma, but not unheard of. We had one resident sleep for nearly ten months once.

Hm. Well, there was a second barge we collided with, full of our counterparts from an alternate universe.

[maced_eggs]

Bleu. Love.

I do like speaking with you, but don't ask me to tell you what's happened. It was terrible.

[rhapsody_in]

I knew it. You put on the clown outfit again, didn't you?

[maced_eggs]

Not as of such.

[rhapsody_in]

That bad, eh?

[maced_eggs]

Worse'n you can possibly imagine. I'm glad you sat it out, lovely.

[punched_hitler]

Well - welcome back. It was a pretty long month.

[He cocks a half-smile, though,] I'd be careful what I wish for - next time you end up in a coma, you might be stuck with a not-so-masterpiece on your face for a while.

[rhapsody_in]

Merci. Not too rough, was it?

[She laughs, shaking her head.] I'd take it; it's a drawing.

[punched_hitler]

It [was pretty bad] could've been worse.

I'll keep it in mind for next time, then. What's your preferred medium? Sharpie?

[rhapsody_in]

[Bleu tilts her head, an eyebrow arched.] So could the Inquisition. Are you all right?

What's Sharpie?

[punched_hitler]

[He has to laugh a little ruefully at that.] Point.

Yeah. I'm all right. [Just... still recovering a little.]

Oh - it's... [And give him a second, he digs in his pocket and holds one up.] Permanent marker, really. They're pretty great. They don't smudge much, like ink.