Richard St. Vier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
honeywithpoison) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552015-12-07 02:44 am
honeywithpoison) wrote in interstellar55552015-12-07 02:44 am
Entry tags:
High Flying, Adored
Who: Richard St. Vier and open
What: Memories? Band emergencies? Stuff?
When: Dec. 6 and onwards through the month
Where: Pride HQ, other places around town open
Warnings: Heights. Language and violence also possible.
It had been rather weird. A red-haired woman reading to him a letter. Vague memory of the words. Clear memory of the absolute helplessness and fury about them. The weight of a sword at his hip, and knowing that he was going to use it.
... and then most of it was gone.
Then the rehearsal break was over and he was back, in the rhythm, in the music.
It wasn't until the evening (his off, Alec's performance one) that just the weirdness of the memory got to him. So he did what he sometimes had done, before, though usually it was far too late for anyone to notice. Not tonight.
He stepped up on the banister of the penthouse, tens of floors drop to one of his sides and just about three feet on the other, and started walking, starlight in his hair. (Just that. It was enough of a challenge that it usually worked very well to calm him down.)
It was difficult to find a pattern to the places where Richard St. Vier showed up, but he was often out, after a performance. He only showed up more than once at a couple of jazz places, but it was a big city. He did always greet politely anyone familiar, and never refused fans a few minutes of his time, or autographs.
But mostly, he sat quietly and... watched. If left to himself.
Of course, he didn't go around by himself, not anymore. And his companion was far, far less polite.
ooc: Or pick a place and time for him. Prose or actionspam open.
What: Memories? Band emergencies? Stuff?
When: Dec. 6 and onwards through the month
Where: Pride HQ, other places around town open
Warnings: Heights. Language and violence also possible.
It had been rather weird. A red-haired woman reading to him a letter. Vague memory of the words. Clear memory of the absolute helplessness and fury about them. The weight of a sword at his hip, and knowing that he was going to use it.
... and then most of it was gone.
Then the rehearsal break was over and he was back, in the rhythm, in the music.
It wasn't until the evening (his off, Alec's performance one) that just the weirdness of the memory got to him. So he did what he sometimes had done, before, though usually it was far too late for anyone to notice. Not tonight.
He stepped up on the banister of the penthouse, tens of floors drop to one of his sides and just about three feet on the other, and started walking, starlight in his hair. (Just that. It was enough of a challenge that it usually worked very well to calm him down.)
It was difficult to find a pattern to the places where Richard St. Vier showed up, but he was often out, after a performance. He only showed up more than once at a couple of jazz places, but it was a big city. He did always greet politely anyone familiar, and never refused fans a few minutes of his time, or autographs.
But mostly, he sat quietly and... watched. If left to himself.
Of course, he didn't go around by himself, not anymore. And his companion was far, far less polite.
ooc: Or pick a place and time for him. Prose or actionspam open.
no subject
Terry is slightly panicked about the idea of Richard falling off, but his balance looks good so he doesn't say anything for fear of startling him, just stays close enough that he'll be able to grab an arm or something if it goes wrong. He can enquire about Richard literally walking a fine line between life and death once he gets down.