Renly Baratheon (thegoldenstag) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-24 18:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | loras tyrell, renly baratheon |
Who: Renly and Loras
What: Renly goes to confront the stranger from the restaurant
When: Saturday night
Where: Long Beach Convention Center
Rating: TBD
Status: In progress
Ever since Renly had found the flyer stuck underneath the windshield wiper of his car when he returned from buying groceries, he had been certain that he would not be attending. It was a cheap-looking thing, clearly made in a hurry on Photoshop and printed out en masse to be distributed throughout his neighbourhood. He was constantly finding flyers like it on his car, hawking wares at a Sunday flea market or promoting local bands’ performances at shitty dive bars. This one, however… it was different. There were no images on the flyer, only a bunch of names. A list of competitors, scheduled to fight at the Long Beach Convention Center later that night. Renly would have crumpled it up and tossed it into the nearest bin, had his eye not been drawn to a single name near the top of the page.
Loras Tyrell.
The name hit him like a swift punch the chest. It was the name that he’d finally been able to put to the face of the mysterious stranger who had cornered him in the restaurant parking lot. The man, who had somehow known his name and whispered it in his silky voice until Renly’s head pounded and his hands trembled. The man who had electrified Renly’s entire body with a single touch, sent him reeling with an uninvited kiss, and then disappeared into the evening air like a wraith. The man who, as his brother Robert had tried to convince him, was either a delusional stalker or else just insane.
Renly had just about had a heart attack when he’d downloaded a .zip file from the network and spotted the stranger’s face, alongside his name. He hadn’t believed it was real at first, almost hoping that someone was just messing with him. The flyer in his hand just confirmed it. The man was named Loras (it was a beautiful name, a whisper that felt at home on his lips), and now Renly knew where to find him. Of course, he had no intention of doing so. He folded up the flyer and tucked it into his back pocket, and did everything he could to try and forget about it. He drove home and put away his groceries. He tidied up the mess of paints and brushes and tarps in his studio. He cracked open a beer, and sat on the beach with his feet buried in the sand, trying to think of anything but long, messy hair and blue eyes and soft lips.
Needless to say, it hadn’t worked. Renly swore at himself under his breath as he pulled into the convention center’s parking lot, cursing his lack of willpower. The flyer was unfolded on his dashboard, and he cursed it too for good measure. The flyer said that the event had begun at 7 p.m., and it was now past 9. Part of him hoped that he had come too late. Renly didn’t smoke cigarettes that often, but as he leaned against the hood of his car and watched the front door, the urge to light one up was impossible to ignore. He took a long drag, hoping it would help stop his hands from shaking. He waited – but for what, he could not have said.