vdistinctive | At the docks, then out to sea, Sunday

The colors from the previous days were still holding, if maybe slightly more muted, Fandom's magic slowly fading but still managing to hang on for another day.

Seemed like a good omen as any for a wedding that Eliot still couldn't quite believe was happening.

Eliot's boat wasn't big enough for all their guests so they had "rented" (long story) a well-appointed yacht for the day. It was docked in the Port of Fandom, waiting for all the guests to board. Once the last person had crossed the gangplank, it sailed almost to the edge of the island, where blue water lapped with gray. Eliot's boat was already there, anchor down, Hardison in a tux, playing around with a sound system.

A few minutes to futz with mics and the speakers set up discreetly around the yacht came to life. "Testin'...Testin'..." Hardison murmured. Good. Everybody would be able to hear the ceremony on the second ship.

Looks like it was time to begin.

[TIME FOR A WEDDING! If you think you were invited, you were. Some OCD coming]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Sparkle," Eliot greeted. "Hope you don't mind us throwin' a party the day after yours. We got a little impatient."

"Hey," Sparkle laughed, giving Eliot a grin and a nod, "I will never complain about three great people piggybacking on my rainbow. You're welcome."

He'd had nothing to do with that rainbow, but you know what? He didn't care. It was kind of perfect. And it had decided to stick around for the whole weekend, at that!

"Good work on that," Eliot said. "This thing wouldn't be the same without some color. So how've you been?"

"I mean, overall...?" Sparkle chewed his lip a moment. "Pretty good, I think? Like, I've got Leto and Hernando, Atton's been doing regular visits, people have been asking me to design costumes for them, and the island has thus far been unsuccessful in its attempts to kill me this summer."

Thank god.

"I'm not sure which of those points I'm more excited about, at this point."

"Yeah, the island's been . . . a lot. This summer." Eliot shook his head. "Honestly, I'm really lookin' forward to getting the hell out of here. You got our info through, right? If you need our help on anything?"

Sparkle nodded a little, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I have your numbers," he replied, and then smiled crookedly. "But the stuff I might need your kind of help with, I'm probably not going to be leaping into while the island is doing the whole 'and this week you're gonna be living in radioactive wasteland hell' dance, you know? How long are you planning on being gone?"

Eliot pursed his lips. "A . . . while, honestly. We're looking at resettling. Seeing if we can't find some of the kids who keep showin' up after prom."

Sparkle considered that. And then... nodded.

"Good," he decided. "I mean. Good. Those kids deserve you guys, and I don't need you to be right there on the island in order to ask for advice or anything anyway. Besides," he nodded over his shoulder, back toward the island at large, "this place isn't really good for anybody. Maybe short-term, but it's no place to start a family. Especially right now."

Eliot gave him a considering look. "You know, you don't have to stick around here if you don't want to, either."

He had a feeling Sparkle's reasons for sticking around were complicated, to say the least. But he figured it was worth saying.

"No." A beat. "Yes? I mean. Kinda. Toronto's out, but I'm looking at maybe fixing that. Like. Properly, sometime. Which I might be asking you guys for help with, maybe." Because they were the ones least likely to have to murder someone in the face to help Sparkle get his name cleared, admittedly. "But. Like."

He huffed softly, remembering Atton's breakdown on him the other week when he'd thought he was going to just pack up and take off to Mexico forever. And the extra step he'd need to visit Leto, whenever he had time free, and...

"God, leaving here would be a mess."

Arrakis, Coruscant, and Mexico. None of them were really home, either.

"It gets under your skin, doesn't it," Eliot said. "Can't blame you for wanting to stick around. You wanna get away for awhile, though, we're thinking of setting up shop in New Orleans."

"It definitely does something, anyway," Sparkle agreed. "But oh my god, New Orleans. I could speak my shitty Canadian French down there and they'd just stare at me and try to parse it with their weird Cajun French, and god help us all if there's anybody from France nearby, they'd explode."

“Sounds like a good time for everyone involved.”

"Except Messieurs Français, anyway, yup."

Which, hey, if you were a hypothetical priss who was going to be fussy about regional dialects while on vacation, you probably deserved to explode anyway.

At the docks, then out to sea, Sunday

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