futaille | Open Post: Who invented this calendar anyway?

How unfortunate.

Yes, Grantaire was fully aware that the year being longer at the mansion would logically cause seasons to drift when someone kept track of the old calendar, or at least what had been pinned down as the old calendar for convenience sake, which was almost necessary when people's arrivals weren't necessarily tied to the day they left. He hadn't given it too much thought last year, when his birthday, such that it was, arrived in spring like he was used to.

Dark, though, was unfortunate. Not inappropriate for the next notable anniversary coming up, but for this one, not at all. Of course, it wasn't as if he would have been planning much in the way of an event, Dark or no, but it would have been nice to treat himself to something or other, regardless.

Instead, he has installed himself in the game room, where he is carefully balancing dominoes on their ends to make a domino rally on the billiards table. It's a nice large flat surface, so it should work nicely. Have to keep entertained somehow.

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From:

futaille

A content little smile settles on Grantaire's face and he leans against Dionysus a bit more than strictly speaking necessary as they walk.

From:

vineleaves

Dionysus doesn't say much as they walk, but he does lean over several times to leave kisses on Grantaire's cheek. He's so incredibly beautiful, after all, Dionysus just simply has no other option. Once they finally get to the dining room he gets Grantaire seated in a chair, busies himself with the last few tasks he has to do to get everything perfect, then vanishes the blindfold and wrist vines.

The small room is illuminated by rows of twinkling string lights and several well-placed candles, giving everything a cozy warmth. The table they're at is fairly small, and on it sits their dinner plates with what Dionysus hopes isn't too mediocre of a baked ziti (he did the best he could under the circumstances). There's also, of course, a couple of glasses of wine, which Dionysus seems to be a little out of breath from the effort of conjuring. Lastly, perhaps expectedly, a basket with several wrapped presents and a green card sits on a table beside theirs.

From:

futaille

Grantaire's eyes widen a bit as he takes in the tableau. "Oh. It's... it's wonderful."

From:

vineleaves

He smiles. "I'm glad you like it, love."

From:

futaille

"Of course I do. I have no idea how I possibly wouldn't have."

From:

vineleaves

"Well, I dunno, maybe you decided you hate candles in the past few hours."

From:

futaille

"You're right, you're right. I've fallen hard for electric lights. Can't do anything without them."

From:

vineleaves

"Right, right, of course. Well, how do you feel about electric candles?"

From:

futaille

"They need to pick a side," says Grantaire, who is horribly allergic to picking sides.

From:

vineleaves

"Ah yes, clearly," he says, trying to keep a straight face.

From:

futaille

"You have to be electricity, or you have to be a candle. None of this halfway nonsense."

From:

vineleaves

"Oh?" he says, lifting his wine glass to take a sip. "Please elaborate."

From:

futaille

"Electric candles are fakery!" He takes a sip of his own wine. "Trying to replicate candles but you can tell."

From:

vineleaves

He nods, very seriously considering this. "You don't suppose it's just that they have lofty aspirations, do you?"

From:

futaille

"Oh, they're idealists."

From:

vineleaves

"That explains it then!"

From:

futaille

"Entirely too well, if you ask me." He has a sip of his wine.

From:

vineleaves

Dionysus watches Grantaire drink, a little dreamily, resting his head on his hand. He's so beautiful Dionysus can hardly stand it.

From:

futaille

He's getting at least a bit used to this at this point. "Yes, yes, look your fill."

From:

vineleaves

"Well, I'll never tire of looking at you, so we might as well eat dinner before it gets cold," he laughs.

From:

futaille

"Only if you do too." He does grab his fork and start in on it, though.

From:

vineleaves

"Oh, of course," he says, picking up his own fork and taking a bite.

From:

futaille

A few bites in to his ziti, he nods. "This is good! Thank you!"

From:

vineleaves

Dionysus smiles. "I'm glad you like it!" He's not the best at cooking under perfect circumstances, after all, having rarely cooked for himself before arriving at the mansion, and so he has been nervous about this meal. If they were on Earth he would have just taken Grantaire to a nice restaurant, and let someone else cook for them. "I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but I suppose it's hard to go wrong with pasta."