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 Does myth and mystery lie where the unicorns go?, Martín <3
Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Apr 21 2017, 10:35 AM
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"Looks still cute but lips are sore"
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Above every other sensation, there was the noise coming from the rides and the games that were offered at the carnival, accompanied by flashing lights and a variety of scents that made Florentin unusually hungry. It was hard to keep a straight face when all he wanted was to buy a giant ball of cotton candy and stuff his face with it. The rest did not fascinate him. He did not care about those rides, about the slides that could be used with carpets at hand, the balloons that never lasted for long and often flew off, only to get caught in the branches of a tree or picked at by a bird. With a careless and yet composed gesture, Florentin reached out and pushed the sunglasses he wore back up his nose, slender fingers running through his hair for a moment and flipping it back over his shoulder, before his gaze met Martín’s for a moment. Not that there was much to see, as both of them were wearing sunglasses, walking through the aisles between the rides and the stalls like Gods who had decided to walk this earth for today, their grace high above the one of the rabble.

The lights of the rides and the signs announcing different kinds of food and drink were reflecting from the tinted surfaces of the sunglasses, and Florentin knew that in the right angle, he would be able to see himself - vain enough to take up every opportunity to gaze at his reflection in a mirror, and everything that resembles a mirror. “Attendez,” the boy muttered for a moment, fingers raised and resting on his friend’s arm for a second before he walked towards one of the stalls that sold slushies in different colours and flavours, a small queue of younger students standing in front of it and discussing whether melon should be mixed with pumpkin or not - while no one questioned why pumpkin slushies existed in the first place. The world had a tendency to turn into a horrible place as soon as children and decisions were involved, and so Flo shoved two of them aside to place his order: a simple cherry slushy, served in a transparent cup with a green straw. He paid and walked back to Martín, offering the Spaniard a small smile.

Pouty lips tightened around the straw, sucking until the cool sweetness of cherries met his tongue. Carnivals might be for children and below his level, yet this was simply delicious - although Florentin did suppress the little moan of pleasure that had been lingering somewhere in the back of his throat. Instead, the two boys just kept walking without a destination, eventually just being present to be seen at all instead of observing the happenings by themselves. There was a soft breeze carrying more scents of fried chicken and french fries through the crowd, and by now Flo’s stomach was definitely complaining about the typical mistreatment of nothing but café au lait for breakfast - and a slushy poured on top. At least he was not going to go hypoglycaemic, fainting was the last thing he intended to do in front of Martín Marzán - who knew what the lion would do with his unconscious body?

Still sucking on the straw, the French boy’s azure gaze fell on something that looked almost painfully familiar: a carousel with two floors, connected by two sets of stairs that led from the ground one to the upper floor, golden pillars guiding from the ground to the ceiling. And attached to those pillars were magical creatures carved out of wood, wool and real hair shaping manes and tails. There were members of the seafolk, merman holding tridents and mermaids holding brushes, seats on their tales for those who wanted to take a ride. Centaurs stood beside dragons, and even a thestral could be seen on the upper floor, as well as a carriage and a few regular horses, with unicorns guiding them forward. Everything was painted in pastel shades, and flower carvings decorated the carousel with its gentle lights. It reminded Florentin of Paris, of tugging his little brother towards a carousel like this one and helping him sit on one of these horses. His hand shot forward, reaching for Martín’s and tugging gently, a smile that barely contained his excitement shaping on his lips. “S'il vous plaît?” The plea was rhetorical, as boys like Florentin did not beg - he merely wanted to be sure that he was not going to be the only one to climb those beautiful unicorns.

@Martín Marzán
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Martín Marzán
 Posted: Apr 22 2017, 04:26 AM
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In more ways than one, Martín Marzán was different from most children of respectable pureblood families, starting by the little known fact that he had not been introduced to that world until about the short age of seven, leaving him with precious previous childhood years which had been spent in a way which would have been considered preposterous by most members of social class - living among muggles. He knew it was looked down upon, that he could only speak about it to certain -very well selected- people, but it hadn’t been his choice in the first place, as by the age of two he had been all too young to refuse the will of his father. Truth be told, even if he could have refused, he wasn’t sure if he would have, because while it could have likely meant more years spent in the presence of his father, would those years have been as happy? And furthermore, the Spaniard was quite sure that without the time spent in America he wouldn’t be the person he was, and there was a fear of what he could have been had he been raised by the Marzán family from the moment of his birth.

As much as he attempted to deny it and fight against it, those few years among muggles -or ‘no-majs’ rather- were a part of him, and they showed too, in things that may have been unnoticeable to most but that were quite relevant when put into perspective. For example, the way he was unfazed by most of muggle technology and didn’t find it strange in any form, the way he enjoyed playing sports such as soccer when most pureblooded wizards didn’t even understand what soccer was, the way he liked movies and popular singers, and the way he was absolutely fascinated by that carnival. This last one had to do with a very specific childhood memory, the one time he and his dad visited a fair much alike the one that was currently at Hogwarts, time during which the child had been fascinated, eating churros despite his father's warnings - which were also probably the closest thing to Spain he had experienced at such an age.

Much had changed since such times, and while the childish excitement was still there, now it was contained, calming walking by the side of his friend, dark shades covering his turquoise gaze while pretending little interested him about such an event… even when the churro he was currently eating spoke of something much different as he dipped it in hazelnut spread, for once allowing himself a break from his usually diet and caring little for Florentin’s opinion on the matter. He watched the older boy, bringing the fried pastry to his mouth and chewing calmly as the snake returned with his slushie. Honestly, he didn’t quite know why Florentin had wanted to go to the carnival but the lion sure as hell wasn’t complaining, determined to enjoy every single second of his time there. A brow was quirked, hand extended towards his friend with a grin. “Can I have some or do I have to steal it away from your lips?” Martín asked shamelessly, words purred with his sweet Castilian accent and pronounced with the full intention of embarrassing the other. After all, it wasn’t like it hadn’t been done before.

Florentin’s interest in the carousel didn’t come as a surprise, and neither did his own, eyes widening slightly at the sight, marveling at all the details, and the gentle pastel colors and at all the different creatures that adorned the ride. And while he was excited, he wondered if he had ever seen his friend looking this ecstatic about anything before, faint memories of youthful days spent at gardens coming back to mind, bringing a smile to his own lips as he ate the last churro in his hands, slowly, staring at the snake at he licked off the powdered sugar that remained on his fingers, knowing how this was likely to unsettle him (and probably also soon unsettle himself in a much different manner). Then, he used the napkin to properly clean his hands, tossing it away before fulfilling the French’s desires and stepping onto the ride. Without taking off his sunglasses, Martín looked at his surroundings, smirking as he found a particularly nice looking unicorn, painted in white, silver and pastel shades of pink and purple. Gracefully, he stepped on it, sliding back and looking at his friend with a mischief that the dark shades hid, patting the spot in front of him. “Want to join me? Sounds more fun than riding alone, don’t you think?”

Obviously, he was there to enjoy every single moments to his heart’s content.

@Florentin Deschamps
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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Apr 22 2017, 05:37 AM
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"Looks still cute but lips are sore"
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Everything about events like this was supposed to repel Florentin: the noise, the greasy and sugary food, the entertainment that seemed to be mostly based on the kind of joys muggles found entertaining. But still he did enjoy the swirl of colours and the scents in the air that made him hungry - yet not hungry enough to eat. Although he had to admit that those fried sweet sticks Martín was munching - churros if he had gotten that right, Spanish still leaving the flavour of a lifelong grudge behind on his tongue - were rather tempting to try. Self-control was something Florentin rarely lost, yet he was always prone to fall victim for sweet and greasy things he should not be eating and for dangerous boys he should not be kissing - leave alone repeat what they had been doing not so long ago in the room or requirement. Carnivals like this had not been a part of both their lives, the entertainment was too mundane. Florentin knew what it was like to ride on a carousel, yet those moments had been rare and always ended too soon for his tastes. But right now, his parents were not watching, and no one could judge him for the cherry slushy he was drinking.

His patience and integrity was tested as a hand was reached towards him, and Martín’s sweet, sweet words were carried towards him. “Martín, not in front of people, they do not deserve that kind of amusement,” Flo purred back - desperately trying to hide the fact his cheeks were now covered in different shades of pink and rosé. Instead of teasing the Spaniard to a point where the lion would be forced to steal the kiss from his lips, he quickly handed the cup over, stealing a piece from the churro in return - without dipping it in whatever delicious spread came with such a dish. Florentin only allowed himself slipping so much before pretending he was living healthily - if healthy meant skipping all meals in order to allow himself a single drink that contained nothing but sugar, syrup and water. A drink that, admittedly, was said to be served to the ancient Romans already, ice brought from the alps with honey poured over it. Surely Martín was familiar with such knowledge, too, and yet Flo did not raise his voice. Spouting useless facts was for Ravenclaws who did not have a pretty face to compensate being hideous know-it-alls.

When the slushy cup was back in his hands, he made quick work to finish his drink, never letting his gaze leave the other boy while his lips found the straw, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the icy liquid. But his own activities were interrupted by Martín savagely licking powdery sugar from his fingers. Florentin swallowed, the blush from earlier returning almost immediately before he quickly averted his gaze and turned towards the nearest trash bin to throw the empty cup away. There were more entertaining things to do, and he was glad to hear no protest when gently pulling the other boy along. Carefully, he watched Martín chose a particularly beautiful wooden unicorn and sitting on it, frowning as he slided back on the seat. The French boy’s hands were dug deep into the pockets of his cardigan for a moment, suppressing the urge to slap his friend for forcing him into such embarrassing postures.

But to deny would be to admit defeat, and he was not going to allow himself such a weakness. Fingers shaping fists in his pockets, Florentin walked slowly towards the unicorn, slender fingers running through its pastel-coloured mane. “Are you afraid of falling off when sitting on it all by yourself?” he asked cockily before swinging his long leg over the saddle, sliding forward so there was at least the illusion between him and Martín - although he doubted that it would last long. Flo could feel the heat on his face, and instead of looking at the boy behind him, he dug his hands in the unicorn’s mane - back straight and shoulders down, an image of poise and constipation.

@Martín Marzán

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Martín Marzán
 Posted: Apr 22 2017, 11:36 AM
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"By the grace of the fire and the flames 🔥"
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Among the many truths about Martín, there was the obvious fact that he cared little for what others may have thought of him, doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and often causing the strangest variety of rumors to spread with his name on them. It was rather amusing, though who was he to stop it when he was as judgemental as those who said such things? Even if he pretended that was not the case in the slightest of manners, he always had an opinion, usually based on more than just one simple factor. And he was sure people had all sorts of opinions about him too, like the way his grandparents and most family members saw him as a disappointment, the way many thought he slept around way too often when it actually was the opposite, and the way most considered him to be overly flirtatious (as if that was an insult). He also knew there were good opinions too, like those of his friends and all those dear to him, but none of it truly did matter to the Spaniard. Only Martín could judge Martín.

There were those people who he didn’t want to disappoint, Victoria was a clear example, and there were also those people whose hatred he desperately wanted to earn, like his grandfather, yet he would have never gone out of his way or done anything he would consider displeasing for either of these things. Okay, well, maybe for the first, as sometimes he felt like there was nothing in the world he wouldn’t have done for his dearest cousin. Either way, the point was that no one could truly judge him, that he could enjoy that carnival without worrying about what other thought and that he could eat those churros without feeling guilty about it. Though, while he could do the most scandalous things in public for the sole sake of entertaining himself, that did not mean he was inconsiderate enough not to give thought to his friend’s feelings on the matter, limiting himself to only teasing as he took the cup and placed the straw on his lips, soundly sucking in the freezing liquid and following by a satisfied ’Ah!’ before returning the cup. “Fine, I like the taste of wine from your lips much better than what I would like slushies anyways” he winked.

Limiting himself to just teasing was hard, because there was this unquestionable self satisfaction that came with seeing the boy flustered by his words, reminding himself how easily he could make others blush with simple compliments and indecent suggestions. It made all of it much more entertaining, even if he was feeling an increasing need to kiss those pink lips he had come to know so well during his time at that castle. He hadn’t really known if Florentin would agree to his suggestion or not, feet swinging slightly as he sat on the unicorn, almost thankful that that carousel wasn’t meant for just children as sitting with someone else would have resulted awfully uncomfortable otherwise. The question made him raise a brow, offended by even a joking accusation of being afraid of anything yet not letting it show in his actions, merely shrugging as a reply.

The fun came when Florentin finally decided to agree, watching the older boy climb onto the wooden unicorn with a delighted smirk. Gaze fell to the other’s back, without failing to notice how tense he seemed by the situation. So, naturally, Martín did the only thing that could be expected from him, leaning forward enough to breath against the boy’s ear, blowing air playfully as a hand wrapped around Florentin’s waist - obviously for support and no other kind of devious purpose whatsoever. “Détendez-vous. You’re always so tense, if I didn’t know better I would even start thinking I’m making you nervous.” Martín commented playfully, fully aware that there was little possibility of his friend taking his advice and relaxing as he apparently only ever seemed capable of doing such thing with wine in his system, or at least that was how the Spaniard saw it.

@Florentin Deschamps

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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: Apr 23 2017, 04:44 AM
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Image and reputation was everything - and while Florentin did not have the beautiful personality to match his pretty face, he at least did have a nearly unblemished reputation, with rumours that were most often harmless enough to either be ignored or shut down with a single word or phrase again. Kissing Martín Marzán in public would ruin this reputation, and he did not trust his brother enough to save his neck when it came to explaining such things to their parents. He could get away with those forehead kisses he had given Sigurd before - once to break the curse of the New Year’s ball, and once during the last Quidditch game - as they were nothing in the eye of society, not more than the cheek kisses the French used to greet each other with. And those were spread generously during all those pureblood gatherings, so no one did see harm in them. As much as Florentin might have wanted to share the slushy in a more interesting way, he had to keep face - and that meant holding a certain distance upright, even though they had seen all of each other before.

The Spanish sweets Martín had been eating were not quite after the boy’s taste, but he did not comment on it and simply washed the remains of it down with the sweet cherry flavour of the crushed ice. Later on he could worry about calories, could pinch at fat that was not even there when staring at himself in the bathroom mirror back at his dorm. For now, there was only the sweet breeze that carried all the scents of seduction towards him, and the sun that was so generously warming the back of his head, before the boys moved into the shadows the carousel was casting. It was standing still, waiting for more people to climb the creatures before it was going to start taking one round after another, and it left Flo a few moments to appreciate the paintings, the flowers and the authentic ways of how the creatures were carved - manes so smooth and wrinkles and muscles worked into the wood they were sitting on.

With a careless and smooth gesture, the tall snake pushed the sunglasses up on his head, feeling single strands of honey gold tangled with the temples and making him frown for a moment. Once he was sitting, he realised it was not like sitting on a real horse - and that carousel horses had been different when he had still been younger: taller, more majestic and more exciting, even though these were tall enough to make room for teenagers and adults even. But the body between his legs was not warm, not moving in a play of muscles, and he had to remind himself that this was for entertainment - he would have to do nothing in order to make the unicorn move. Caught up in his thoughts, he did not realise what Martín was doing and winced at the air blown past his ear, gazing over his shoulder with a pout on his rosewood-coloured lips. “Contain yourself,” he hissed, and yet he allowed himself to relax enough to avoid being pressed against the neck of the horse, letting his body slide down just a little before he could feel the warmth of the Spaniard’s body against his own.

A part of Flo wanted to grab the arm around his waist and remove it - but the proud part of him reached out with one hand, casually resting it on Martín’s forearm while his pale gaze was still settled on the boy’s face. They were horribly close due to the proximity of their bodies on the horse, and the slightest move could have caused their heads - or their lips - to bump together. “Why would I be nervous around you, there is nothing I have to fear from you - now is there?” he asked, voice sweet and accent thick as he was batting his long lashes at the smaller boy, continuing that dance that never seemed to cease when the two of them were together.

@Martín Marzán

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Martín Marzán
 Posted: Apr 24 2017, 11:10 PM
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When the headache came, so came realization, slight pain serving as a reminder of that which he was supposed never to forget yet had completely ignored for the sake of indulging mundane desires. It was...hard to remember how many things out there contained wheat, his diet always finding itself to be so limited thanks to one single little allergy that threatened to make him overly itchy or nauseous all thanks to eating a single slice of bread. Even gods had their flaws, their holy weaknesses, for they were perfect in their imperfection and truly, taking one short glance at Martín’s family, the fact that he had a common food allergy came as no surprise - in fact, it was surprising that he didn’t have more. So, he had a headache, fighting off the feelings of nausea as he stared at Florentin, nothing that had not been done before. Martín Marzán didn’t throw up, those kinds of disgusting things were for the common folk and not divine beings like him.

At least the churros had been good, so to his opinion it had been worth it, despite the headache that he knew would fade away soon enough. It was always a price worth paying for a moment of enjoying some sugary treats, specially considering how rarely he got opportunities to eat those kinds of things. Plus, with Florentin there, it wasn’t like he couldn't take advantage of it to make himself feel better, and Martín sure loved taking advantage of things. Cue overdramatic reaction. A hand was brought to his forehead, long sigh leaving him “Florentin. If I die, say nice things at my funeral, okay?” he started out without giving any more explanation, batting eyelashes at his friend as he spoke with a softer and more gentle tone than usual. “I think I just poisoned myself” he then added, as explanations surely weren't of much need when one was being overdramatic.

However, no amount of headaches or overdramatism could stop Martín Marzán from enjoying his time at a carousel, and soon he found himself grinning again, all while doing his best to try get his friend flustered in the best way possible. Apparently it was working. No, Martín wasn’t a bad friend, not in his opinion at least, for all he really wanted to do was have some fun and forget about the pain currently pounding in his head. And the Spaniard was no fool, being quite aware of how much Florentin enjoyed all of it as much as he did, despite all the hissing and pouts that may have pointed otherwise. It was the game they played, the dance they dance, and while being in public meant he couldn’t be as explicit and charmingly shameless about things as he would have wanted to… nothing stopped Martín Marzán.

So, while they waited for the carousel to start, the lion did what was only natural to do, arm wrapping around the boy’s waist a bit more tightly and making good use of the lack of distance between them. He was no stranger to the feeling of someone else’s body against his own -actually, he was no stranger to the feeling of Florentin’s body against his own- and the feeling always came as somewhat comforting, cherishing the touch of another. Then, he leaned in, placing a sweet and gentle kiss on the taller boy’s cheek, one of those things they could get away with in public, as cheek kisses never meant much at all. “Do the flowers fear the sun, or do they relish under the touch of its light?” Martín asked in return, words purred out like honey before the carousel finally began to move, carnival music surrounding them.

@Florentin Deschamps

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Florentin Deschamps
 Posted: May 3 2017, 06:27 AM
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"Looks still cute but lips are sore"
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There were several things Florentin should refrain from doing - and something told him that getting on a horse carousel was one of them. Not because he wanted to, but because ever since early childhood, his routine had been interrupted by those mysterious fainting spells that were frowned upon by healers and well covered by himself. As a small child, there had not been much he could do whenever he passed out, his mother - or a house elf in reach - placing cool washcloths on his forehead, the bitter taste of vomit lingering on his tongue, only ever varied by the coppery flavour of blood that came to those who were prone to constant nausea. Some said it was low blood pressure, others tried blaming the young man’s diet that often consisted of only one meal a day for it. He was doing good work at hiding this little weakness from the rest of Hogwarts’ population and even from his best friend, the spells set rarely enough to hide them when he was alone in his dorm - apart from the one time Janjhe had picked him up, promising not to tell a soul.

Yet the memory of all those times he had fainted was coming back now he was sitting on a carousel that was about to start turning, with Martín so close he could feel the boy’s breath against his neck. And therefore he also received the dramatic little speech up close, wondering why in all heavens the Spaniard was talking about his funeral now. Slowly he turned around to see the lion who was about to turn into a fragile Victorian lady, hand on his forehead and fluttering lashes. “Did you forget your smelling salts in your dorm, chéri?” he asked sweetly, laughing quietly at the comment that followed. “Aw, poor you. But what did you expect when you are stuffing your face with greasy, Spanish food? I assume you deserve a death by churros,” he hummed contently, flipping his hair over his shoulder again before he reached out, slender fingers petting Martín’s cheek for a moment. Then, he dug them back in the unicorn’s sparkly mane.

It seemed like the younger boy had forgotten his suffering rather quickly when he pulled Florentin even closer, the blush on his cheeks taking up new dimensions while he blinked rapidly. Yet those sweet words almost made up for his embarrassment and he bit his full bottom lip, shoulders dropping just a little. Unfortunately, the carousel started moving, and he was shoved gently against Martín’s body even more, grateful that at least his eyes were covered by the sunglasses, keeping his eyes from giving away that this situation was not half as bad as it could be. The carousel turned slowly, almost slow enough to jump off it in between - not that Flo wanted to, because he liked the way the colours were flying by, and how innocent and sweet music was filling the air around them.

Slowly, the French boy’s fingers slipped out of the wooden horse’s mane and rested tentatively on Martín’s arm that was still around his waist instead. “Too fast or still enjoyable? Has death caressed your pretty face yet?” he teased a little as he looked over his shoulder, legs dangling down and swinging softly back and forth. He did not care about who might see them, as for once, he was enjoying himself too much to think about the prestigious and precious Deschamps reputation.

@Martín Marzán

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Martín Marzán
 Posted: May 4 2017, 09:54 PM
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"By the grace of the fire and the flames 🔥"
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Awards: 55



For someone who often claimed to be perfect, sometimes Martín was just…not. His clothes may have been neat and stylish, his hair may have been never been out of place and he may have had the most charming of smiles, yet like most people, he was flawed. Because even those who deemed themselves divine had weaknesses, and the lion had some which often showed no matter how hard he tried to hide them, mostly being the result of those short moments of carelessness that were much more frequent than what he would have liked to admit. That moment being a clear example, as he had certainly not expected to feel so nauseous over a few churros, specially when they had tasted so good. Life was quite cruel, wasn’t it? But not even in his weakest of moments he would have admitted that to Florentin, a huff escaping him at the comment as he looked at the other boy.

“I honestly always expected to die a...hmm...more heroic death, but if someone as beautiful as your face is the last thing I get to see before my demise, then maybe dying isn’t so bad at all.” The Spaniard gave back, lips curving into a mischievous grin as almost mawkish flirtations words were pronounced. In his defense, Florentin should have expected it, it had been the perfect setting for Martín to pronounce a line as that one. And then again, it was almost true, because after all, wouldn’t death be more pleasant when looking at the most beautiful things in life rather than at something that was not? From his perspective, it made perfect sense, as much sense as all those actions currently being performed by him on that carousel, all resulting in him being quite content with himself at that very moment.

The world always acquired a different tone from behind the dark tint of his sunglasses, it all looked different, and almost safer, as if he were looking at a film or pictures instead of at things which were actually happening. Maybe it was his way of dissociating with reality, maybe it wasn’t, but too bad not even that would help him in those moments. The carousel was nice, and admittedly going there had been a great idea, being on that horse brought back memories, not just of his times at carnivals with his father but of other moments long past, moments spent with Florentin and of those childhood days they had apparently made a quiet agreement not to speak of any longer. Though as nice as the carousel may have been, the spinning wasn’t really, despite how slow it may have been, and it was probably all the fault of those damn overly delicious churros. Oh mundane temptations, downfall of even the mightiest of Gods.

In truth, Florentin’s presence came as a relief, a reminder to keep it together despite everything, that hand on his arm coming as almost comforting as he tightened his grip around the other boy’s thin body in the slightest of manners. Gently, he rested his forehead on the snake’s back, smiling faintly at the question as his other arm was also wrapped around Florentin. “If I didn’t know any better I could almost swear that’s concern I hear behind all the mocking” he joked, not even bothering to look up as he was much more comfortable there with his eyes closed. “Don’t worry, querido, by now you should know that something as simple as pastries can hardly kill me. Honestly, I am almost offended” Martín chuckled, because as it always was...jokes and flirting could do away with all of the problems in the world for the Spaniard.

@Florentin Deschamps

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