ay_my_lord: (Default)
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ay_my_lord: (Default)
Continued from here.

*surprised--so seldom kissed in public, let alone with this particular flavor of desperation* You're sure you're all right?
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*the tragedians have kind of had reserved parking at the palace for some time, and probably free run of the important bits--the kitchens, the rooms in use, et cetera, et al. And Horatio has enjoyed playing with them, in various guises ... but all good things must come to an end, and today is unfortunately that end. he knocks on the door of the van*
ay_my_lord: (Talking in philosophy)
*he shifts the paper bag of wine to one arm and unlocks his door, pulling it open and calling over his shoulder (laughter welling in his voice)* I don't think Pliny meant in vino, veritas literally, but if you want to test it ...
ay_my_lord: (Patience!)
*Horatio doesn't really go out much; he likes his books and his games and his shows, and anyway it hasn't been much fun going out without Hamlet or Rosencrantz or Guildenstern. but occasionally it gets lonely, sitting at home (with the unarticulated understanding that he is waiting to see if Hamlet is going to show up at his door) ... so tonight he's gone out to a bar to see if there's anyone interesting to meet, and he is right now engaged in a somewhat lackadaisical game of pool. a degree in physics, he has found, is not as useful for angling one's cue when one has already had a few beers*
ay_my_lord: (Love!)
*Horatio gets precious few moments to indulge himself with truly hardcore geekery--but the yearly Ren Faire is one of them. being a thespian means he knows how to wear a 1610 Flemish doublet with appropriate ease and grace--and being Guildenstern's boyfriend means that Guildenstern is probably trying not to be seen with him as they wander between the booths. Horatio will take his arm, though, and point him toward a booth of intricately carved wooden staves* Ooh, those look nice ...
ay_my_lord: (Patience!)
*he's waiting outside Hamlet's window this the evening, tossing little pebbles at it--he feels old-fashioned and teenaged at once, but he's not reaching Hamlet's cell phone so really this is not as silly as it feels. tick, tick go the stones against the glass, small and insistent taps like some kind of code that he's forgotten how to decipher*
ay_my_lord: (Patience!)
*Horatio has been trying to keep himself occupied since he and Hamlet had begun to grow distant--working odd jobs, programming, re-engineering his computer a bit for the fun of it. now, though, he finds himself wondering whether more social pleasures might be better ways to spend his time, and so he is knocking on the door of the tragedians' ... van* Excuse me? Excuse me, do you ... hold auditions?
ay_my_lord: (Patience!)
*Horatio is taking a late lunch beneath the shade of a tree--just a bit of bread and hard cheese, and a cold sausage neatly wrapped in paper so that the grease doesn't bleed. he has a book of philosophy balanced upon his knees, and his spectacles keep slipping down when he tries to read, and between meal and book and spectacles he is quite oblivious to the world around him*
ay_my_lord: (Talking in philosophy)
*Horatio has a room in a lodging-house not far from the castle; he shares the house with three other men on his floor and an extended family on the floor above him. his belongings, he has largely left in Wittenberg, on the (perhaps vain) hope that the war will soon be over and he will be able to return within a few months' time at most.

with his fellow-lodgers at work, though, he has the narrow front room to himself--or rather, in this case, to himself and Hamlet. he is pouring out tea for them, his spectacles slipping down his nose* I'm glad you came to call today. I'd been hoping I'd hear from you soon--it's been awkward trying to get back to the castle without a wedding invitation.
ay_my_lord: (Love!)
*by this point, Horatio, Reina, and Anticleia have a house--a nice, one-and-a-half-story place with a bit of a yard and a trellis with roses just beginning to climb it. things have begun to settle; there are still awkward moments at times, still little jealousies and conflicts over space, but even those are only small and quickly resolved.

it's nearly evening. Horatio is sitting on the couch in their front room, fingering the hem of his sweater, waiting for Reina to come home*
ay_my_lord: (Default)
*Horatio is a busy man--he's holding down a part-time job, pursuing a master's in physics, and being a full-time boyfriend to Hamlet. nonetheless, there are some times when he feels a degree of stress that even Assassin's Creed can't help ... and for those times, he may be found volunteering at a daycare center*
ay_my_lord: (Talking in philosophy)
*everything has fallen apart--the center has gone from the world (his center--his lord); to be plain, Horatio has wandered Elsinore like a shadow, sometimes settling in the library to run his eyes over pages, unseeing, and other times simply making a pilgrimage to the watchtower, where he looks out to the sea until the wind sears his eyes dry at last. he attends the new king at his dinners, saying little and eating less*
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Well! This is a relief!

I hate reading the news usually, because it's so depressing, but I guess even the news is sometimes good.

It's hard to believe that I'll be going back to school soon. The summer's already almost over; I kind of wish it wouldn't end. Everything seems back to normal, or as normal as it ever will be, I guess.

I should update my journal more, but I haven't had anything to say, really. There haven't even been any good memes on my friendslist.
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*it's a crisp day in autumn, just enough cool breeze that Horatio has a striped scarf around his neck--he sits on a swing in the playground in the park, idly swinging back and forth, and he wouldn't mind at all if someone came to join him*

(primarily for Reina, but if there's anyone who particularly wants to play with him, they're welcome!)
ay_my_lord: (Default)
*Horatio is cleaning up his and Rey's apartment, putting his video games on the shelf and wiping down the counters and straightening the cushions on the couch (it's a new couch, one not scavenged from a dumpster, and it's wide enough for four to sit comfortably). there are guests coming later, and there's still the cleaning and the cooking to finish before Laertes and Guildenstern arrive--*
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*Horatio is curled up on a chair in the Coffee Shop Where Everything Happens, a sheaf of papers on one knee and a notepad on the other (and a Danish-English dictionary in between). he wouldn't mind being bothered--especially not by certain Norwegian princesses (although highly-confused girls dating Anticleia are welcome, as well)--*
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*scene--the apartment that Horatio and Rey now share, on a lovely summer day; Horatio has opened a window to catch the sunlight, and he's sitting in the patch of sun, curled up on his beanbag chair. when Rey passes, he'll look up, with a smile* Can I ask you something?
ay_my_lord: (Crushed)
*it's only a soft, timid knock on Guildenstern's door--quiet, not presuming, and yet loud enough to be heard. should Guil open his door on this particular January afternoon, he will see that Horatio is pale with cold--he has only a jacket, no hat or scarf or gloves--and, in some indefinable way (perhaps more frighteningly), his face conveys that he has not smiled once today--*
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*Horatio had thought that Rey would pick himself up and move on after Laertes moved to France, but now, he can't help but worry--maybe no one else notices, but he can see that Reynaldo's still sad--

--so tonight, he'll take Rey out for a film to destress, and remark as they exit--*
Maybe you need a girlfriend?
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