the_cupbearer: (smoke)
2017-07-12 01:11 am
Entry tags:

what-if: convince me of this revolution

It was late evening, in one of the many taverns that dotted the city of New York: Ganymede sat alone with a meal and a pipe, listening vaguely to the conversations around him, most of which were predictably centered on the ongoing war. He didn't have much faith that the colonists would truly win, would honestly separate from Britain and not collapse to anarchy soon thereafter, but being the sort who valued not being tarred-and-feathered, he kept that opinion to himself.

He was writing, actually, a long letter to a friend back on the continent whom he hadn't seen in years. He hoped Johannes was still alive at this point to even receive it.

And Ganymede might have stayed peacefully alone, if he hadn't been at the table with the only empty seat in the place.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2017-07-04 12:42 am
Entry tags:

Contact/HMD

A softer World: Truth and Beauty are wonderful words, but in the end I am alone with the things I have done.
Howdy. I'm Sage (<user name=repositorian>, <user name=repositorian, site=plurk>), and I'm in EST, or GMT -4, an I work full time, but if you need to get in contact with me, you can leave me a message at this post, or with either of the above sources, and I'll get back to you ASAP.

This post is also an HMD, or How's My Driving, post. If you have questions, comments, or concerns about how I play Ganymede, feel free to leave them here!

All comments are screened.
the_cupbearer: (modern life)
2016-12-19 10:57 pm
Entry tags:

oom: for Sinric

Ganymede opens the door for Sinric, letting him in to the quiet contained sanctuary of his room, footsteps falling silent on the stone floor.

"You are always welcome here, Sinric. Alone or with me."
the_cupbearer: (modern life)
2016-11-04 11:28 pm
Entry tags:

Man from UNCLE psl

Ganymede, for the last several years masquerading as Alan Kingsley, stretched in the studio, part classroom and part dojo floor, that was his place at the U.N.C.L.E headquarters; he was employed there teaching hand-to-hand combat, and though he had a rather unusual way of doing things his students tended to be successful once past his class.

It was a job, and one he liked, though he did appreciate days off from the minor bruising and aches generally caused by men who didn't know what they were doing and tried to throw him. It never worked out all that well for them. He'd been asked to come in for an agent to train with him, not an unusual request, and so there he was, in comfortable loose pants with his hair braided back, stretching and pulling out the tension in his limbs. For a moment his pose was impressive; Ganymede was balanced on one bare foot, the other pulled up behind him and grasped by both hands, extended over his head and continuing the circle of his spine. Kuryakin was due at any moment, and he preferred to get to business. He'd never been much for the passing comments of nicety as far as Ganymede was aware, though he'd never spoken to the man himself.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2016-10-04 09:46 pm
Entry tags:

breakfast with gyda - time variable

Early morning in his house was generally quiet and Ganymede loved those moments; he was standing at the kitchen window with his shirt undone and a mug of coffee in hand. Gyda was most likely asleep, and he needed something bitter to wash the taste of overwhelming sugar out of his mouth. To keep himself quiet he and his partner had used a ball gag, unfortunately made out of sugar. Ari--said partner--found a perverse enjoyment in the fact that it made him swallow every five seconds.

But still, it had been a good night. Ganymede was just watching the blue light of predawn change tint and shade to pink, and orange, soon to be white-red. Gyda would be getting ready for school and theoretically Ari would come down at some point for food, or to leave for work.
the_cupbearer: (starfall)
2016-09-12 05:46 pm
Entry tags:

oom: hannibal

Ganymede leads Hannibal up to a familiar door, opening it to his room where the water still flows around the perimeter of the flagstones, kneeling to brush his fingers over the pygmy lotus blossoms in the little pond.

"And now that we're here?" he asks, standing and flicking his hair back.
the_cupbearer: (weight of royalty)
2016-05-30 11:15 am
Entry tags:

(no subject)

Ganymede was breathtakingly, stunningly beautiful. It was seldom put any other way, and that was why he kept the windows to the carriage dark, gauzed by thin blue-black cloth to obscure the view inside. He was moving into another house, the same routine he'd kept for years and years; today was in many ways no different than the neverending procession of months and decades forward and behind.

He stepped out of the well-oiled door, the hinges making no noise in the atrociously early morning, and looked down the road as he set foot on the street, already moving towards the house's entry. His skin was turned into pale burnished gold by the early sun, his long hair neatly queued and tied back into an elaborate braid wound with silver. He stopped at the base of the short stairs up to the door, momentarily enchanted by the look of the city in the quiet just-pre-dawn, before many people came calling to sell their wares, after many of the street whores had given up selling their bodies. He knew both professions well.

This would be an interesting move.
the_cupbearer: (listening peaceably)
2016-02-17 11:52 pm
Entry tags:

OOM for [personal profile] i_am_your_host

Ganymede's room is lovely, simply put; it looks very much like a palace, small and contained within the mysteriously-sized walls. The floor is cool flagstone, the walls mirroring the earthy colors, but the furniture and linens and pillows are all bright jeweltones, tossed haphazardly around the space. There are vases of palms in the corners and a quietly musical tiny river flowing around the edges of the room.

"This is it," he says, stepping aside to let Emcee in, sitting on the corner of the bed. "It's...calm," he sighs. "When I need it. Make yourself comfortable, please."
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2015-08-02 10:11 pm
Entry tags:

for [personal profile] thewidewideworld

Ganymede's room is not overly large; his bed is, and it's not a bed designed solely for sleep. Its pillows are soft and jeweltoned, wet-looking to the touch, and plentiful against the expanse of mattress. There's a small chest at the foot of the bed, discreetly locked, and a few lengths of cotton cloth looped around the posts ostensibly for tying limbs to it. On the opposing wall there's a dark television screen, turned off but with a small console below it for discs.

"You can sit if you like," he says. "I just need to get something."
the_cupbearer: (princely)
2015-07-18 05:01 pm
Entry tags:

AU WEEK WRITEUP

The Peerless Scarred are, at their hearts, the cruelest and coldest of their Color. They are the Iron Golds, the highest-born and highest-privileged of the human race, and their role is to rule every other Color with merciless efficacy.

In a world where everyone, form the highest king to the lowest street-sweeper and beggar, is coded according to their Color, from Obsidian to Gold. Obsidians, Reds, Browns, and Pinks are lowColors, the bottom of the caste system; Obsidians are a monstrous race bred only for war, and so Reds are the lowest level one can be born into. They are unskilled workers with short lifespans, suited for brutal environments; Browns are servants in homes and social institutions; Pinks, while beautiful, are trained for physical pleasure. They are chemically castrated and have high suicide rates due to their Cupid's Kiss, the colorMark which gives them constant pain. Violet, Yellow, Blue, Green, Gray, and Orange are the midColors, and only the metallics are the highColors, made up of Silver, Copper, White, and Gold. Golds alone are the rulers, and of the forty million of them there are less than two hundred thousand Peerless Scarred.

The 'world' featured here is actually Mars, which has been terraformed to support life and is thus much like Earth save for the exact geography, and the years are counted entirely differently. Ganymede will be considered powerful, but offColor for his Greek name instead of Roman; however he will carry what looks like a deep blue sash wrapped around his hips. This is in actuality his Razor, a weapon of which use is restricted ENTIRELY to Golds. With a flick of his hand it will turn rigid and sharp enough to cut through anything, even an energy-power pulseShield; in fact it is the only thing that will cut them. Ganymede has two scars; one is the familiar curving set around his right forearm, faded to thin shining lines, and the other is a barely-darker curve around the outside of one eye, resting on the crest of his cheekbone. He will have sigils embedded into the backs of his hands of circles with stylized wings curving up and between the bones of his wrists, and these are not malleable or removable. They are grafted onto his bones, which are themselves stronger, denser than any earth-standard human's, as are his muscles as well as faster reflexes.

He is entirely gold-colored, from a burnished-ivory-tinted color for skin to a rich metallic for his hair and eyes, and he is an ass. Haughty, powerful, intelligent, and arrogant for all of it, he will likely make few friends.
the_cupbearer: (businessman)
2015-07-09 05:57 pm
Entry tags:

oom: for [personal profile] cook_the_rude

Ganymede is already in his room, writing out an itinerary in the leatherbound journal he had earlier, the atlas spread out on the table. His room is cool, brightly colored but with flagstoned flooring and a tiny canal of water running around the perimeter of the two rooms, pooling in a quarter-round container with lilies blooming in it.

The bed is made neatly, with four scarves tied to the posts and the necktie on the mattress.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2015-05-17 05:43 pm
Entry tags:

for [personal profile] athelstanthescribe and [personal profile] bigarmy_strangepants

The room he keeps in Milliways is simple, but clean-lined with dark wood floors and jeweltoned pillows and rugs on it; it's a large space, a bed big enough to comfortably fit a few people for some...athletic activities with a smaller arched doorway leading to a bathroom. The corner piled with tufted pillows is where Ameera goes to without pause once Ganymede has scratched her ears, shortly followed by the rambunctious puppies.

"If you'd like to, the bathroom is through that door. There are towels there, and I'll find you clothes while Athelstan teaches you how to work the fixtures. I assume you don't need help undoing your braid, or do you?"
the_cupbearer: (hallway shirtless)
2014-10-14 12:44 pm
Entry tags:

oom: morocco for [personal profile] never_shall_yield

It's not very different, he thinks, each time Ganymede lets the Frenchman wander around his house; Javert will make some comment about how much space he likes to have, he will reply, things will be discussed. He honestly expects this to be no different, though they are here, ostensibly, for a purpose that isn't talking. Ganymede still has his doubts over whether or not that will actually happen, but he's game for most things. He doesn't ordinarily do virgins, so Javert is something of an exception, but he's hardly going to tell the man that.

He enters the house from Milliways through a door in the hallway, just down from his bedroom; the computer is still on, he can hear its fan whirring away as he makes his way to toward it, footsteps quiet on the wood floors. "If you wish to go put your things in the guest room, you may," he says. "I'll be in here."
the_cupbearer: (timeless)
2014-08-10 04:16 am
Entry tags:

OOM: for [personal profile] onceaviking

Ganymede's room is comfortable, quiet. The flagstoned floors are cool underfoot and the furnishings are jewel-toned, rich colors and fabrics and always the sound of running water, courtesy of the tiny canal that cuts along the route of the wall, following the angles that separate the sitting area and the bedroom, easily stepped over. The bed is unmade, sheets exposed under the carelessly-tossed pillows whose fabrics make them look wet to touch.

It's a caricature of his bedroom from ages and ages ago, but at times it is comforting. He leads Eric inside, footsteps quiet as Ganymede himself is.
the_cupbearer: (businessman)
2014-07-30 11:06 pm
Entry tags:

for [personal profile] littlemanbigheart

The cities all tended to blend together after a while; Ganymede would find himself doing the same things in all of them, looking out the windows from where he was leaning against the bar with a ledger book and a pen in his fingers, thinking. Being a business owner, part time bartender, and quasi-part time about a dozen other things made life busy, he supposed. Busy enough that he sometimes didn't immediately notice when someone wanted his attention. He'd heard the jangle of the bell, certainly, as the door opened, but he was focused on the numbers in front of him.

"Can I help you?" he asked absently, pulling his glasses off his face as he turned to look.
the_cupbearer: (god's eye)
2014-07-15 05:20 pm
Entry tags:

OOM: Hannibal, Morocco

The house in Essaouira was old. Everything about it was old, but well-kept; it wasn't overly large but did have several rooms, cooled by the clever little steams of running water, laid into the tiled and flagstone-laid floors in mimicry of the Alhambra in Spain, with green palms tucked in their clay pots in the corners. There was also a courtyard, classic in the style of a riad house with a mosaic tiled water fountain, and inlets and apses with colorful pillows tossed in them.

The rest of the city wasn't nearly so lazily decadent, having turned into the thriving seaside city most people imagined of Morocco, especially if they'd never been there.
the_cupbearer: (living in modernity)
2014-07-15 04:59 pm
Entry tags:

OOM: Dorian, Upstairs

It isn't an extensive collection Ganymede has by any means, but there were a few DVDs in his room of...interesting content, of course. And he wasn't in the least ashamed to show them off to Dorian, because he could understand the fascination; he too had been around when photography and video had been still new, the cutting edge of technology.

Then again he could remember when the fastest way to travel was by horse, and if you'd wanted to fly you needed to be a bird. But still he smiled for Dorian once they'd both settled on the couch comfortably, glad the walls were soundproofed. "My apologies if these men aren't your type, but they are mine," he chuckles.
the_cupbearer: (puppies)
2014-04-27 02:28 pm
Entry tags:

for [personal profile] inkpaintform

Central Park is a great place to run one's dogs; Ganymede has several himself, a total of nine salukis that all love to run as he throws lures for them, though on coming back the puppies tend to jump up and swarm him. Their mother, however, is somewhat more sedate and only noses his forehead as he lays back on the grass, laughing.

He's an attractive young man, shown as he gets up, edging the dogs aside and shaking his head with the flash of silver from a tiny slave earring, chain snugging the shell of his ear.