Kep
He/him
24
March 03
Alamos, Sinnoh
Homosexual
boy genius
Associate Scientist
sum of all and by them driven
TAG WITH @kepler
kepler brueshaber
spectacle [m]
POSTED ON Aug 7, 2024 23:07:38 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","antiibbblast"] [attr="class","luck"] [attr="class","postbody"]He doesn’t get out much, anymore. Part of it is self-inflicted solitude-- why, really, he doesn’t know, because he’s not really that much more focused on his work. He’d spent so long, worked so hard, to fight his agoraphobia just to let it all come rushing back in again, a comfort, a blanket; inside his lab, the only one who could hurt him was himself. [break][break] Part of it is… well, he’s always felt weird in his own skin. Maybe he’s waiting to get it, whatever it is; to start at the beginning, to make himself comfortable, find his own solid ground, before going out into public and subjecting everyone else to… whatever mortal coil flesh construct he’s shuffling around in. [break][break] Going out and dressing up is even more unheard of. But maybe if he layers on more makeup, maybe if he puts on that skirt he likes, maybe if he curls his hair, maybe he’ll feel less like a parasite in his own blood. Or maybe he won’t recognize himself in the mirror, enough to fool himself into thinking he’s someone else. He’s not Kepler Brueshaber, notable disaster. He’s-- [break][break] --he doesn’t know. Maybe he doesn’t need to know. For tonight, he doesn’t need to know. [break][break] So he puts on the makeup and tries on the skirt, but then he remembers that Ash used to like the skirt, so he shoves it to the back of his closet and tries something else. He settles for something slippery and silver, and ties his hair back in a blooming ponytail of curls with red ribbon, and settles the off-lavender mask over his face. [break][break] When he looks in the mirror, it isn’t him, so it isn’t wrong. [break][break] The teleport makes him feel a little woozy-- no more so than the Doc boots and the height and the sudden press of people-- but Chaldene stands at his back and Divinity at his side. He works up the courage to at least make it to the refreshment’s table, before attempting to skitter back to the edges of the party, to safety. [break][break] And then, in what could possibly be the worst thing to ever happen to him, the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen in his life looks at him. [break][break] Then, they talk to him. [break][break] “Oh--,” my god, he swallows, quailing, because-- it’s not possible for humans to be that pretty? Is it? It shouldn’t be. It should be illegal, because he’s been done in, he’s dead. Kepler’s dead. [break][break] He feels like he’s been staring into the sun for too long. In reality, it’s only been a handful of seconds. Something in him flips a switch, from being terrified of being noticed, to terrified that this perfect, ethereal being is going to turn away and find someone else if he doesn’t say something soon. [break][break] “I-- like fun,” he manages to croak, his smile watery. [break][break] (Chaldene bumps his elbow and all-but-guides him to take the proffered glass.) [break][break] Kepler takes the stem in long fingers. He’s got nice hands, at least. [break][break] “Thank you,” he says, raising the glass to his lips. .
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