Who: Glibt and Mark. What: NYC Pride March. Where: Parade route, just outside the Stonewall Inn. When: June 27, 2010. Warnings: Possible language.
Already it had been an amazing Pride Month and it showed when people looked at Glibt. The fact that the blonde wig was just a little brighter than it normally would have been, that the sequins of his dress sparkled just a little more radiantly, that he hadn't applied any body glitter and, yet, the skin that his dress exposed shone in the sunlight, well, it could have given away his immortality, if anyone had been paying him close attention. And his mortal identity - high ranking activist - could have been discovered, if not for the make-up that obscured his face and, again, if anyone had been paying attention. But they weren't, not the crowds in front of the Stonewall; they were all eager for the parade to reach them, they were all craning their necks to see the faint colours of the approaching marshals and those who followed them. They were cheering, laughing together, and Glibt cheered and laughed with them, soaking up every little bit of their happiness and openness, enjoying his day - one of his days, really - immensely. And then the parade reached them, Glibt whooping along with the crowd as the Grand Marshalls - Constance McMillan, Judy Shepard, and Lt. Dan Choi - passed, waving and beaming at the crowd. Glibt barely had time to reach out and connect with each of them - Constance and her desire to attend her prom with her girlfriend, Judy, poor Judy, and her continued mourning for her son and her continued dedication to the cause, and Lt. Choi standing out like a beacon of hope, just like he had when he'd chained himself to the fence of the White House to protest DADT - before they were out of his sight.
And then it was a matter of watching the groups and their floats roll by, watching his people rejoice, comfortable in their identities and screaming to the world - we're here, we're here, and we're never going to go away, so listen up and give us our due! - watching as thousands of others watched and rejoiced along with those marching, along with him. The crowd jostled him every now and then but for the most part, Glibt was happy to be packed in with them behind the parade barricades. If the Empire State Pride Agenda had marched, he would have as well but to be witnessing the event with thousands of his own was just as satisfying. Someone started handing out pink plastic tiaras and, even though Glibt's clashed horribly with his dress, he dipped his head to allow the young man next to him brave the already tangled wig to set it on Glibt's head. Squeezing his arm in thanks, Glibt gave him a bright, shining grin that had the young man feeling a tad breathless for a moment. Glibt couldn't help it; his connection to his people was running rampant with the power intake and his glee was affecting those around him.
It was when he felt the approach of another immortal that Glibt started to sidle his way back from the barricades, across the sidewalk, and toward the Stonewall. There were still celebrating mortals there, of course, but the crowd thinned with every step he took away from the street. And when he latched to the immortal presence, smiling at the sensation of his fiance moving closer to him, smiling at the knowledge that Mark could actually attend the parade now that they were out, Glibt retreated under the awning of his birth place. He tried to slow his breathing, tried to control the power that was surging through him - it wouldn't do to send clouds of glitter up above him - tried not to stumble with power intoxication, and simply waited, leaning against the wall and ignoring the slight pain that was already developing as a result of the tight, pinching red pumps he was wearing. He was out of practice.