maskormenacelogs | Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face.

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Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face.

WHO: Dorian Gray and Yuri Petrov
WHERE: Heropa; The park
WHEN: Forward dated to this weekend
WHAT: Lunatic promised Dorian wouldn't recognize him if they were to cross paths, and he intends to keep his word.
WARNINGS: WHO EVEN KNOWS WITH THESE TWO SASSY PEACOCKS :|a (a.k.a. probably nothing to worry about...yet.)

Yuri had anticipated a certain level of intensity from his fellow imPorts when Lunatic had made his first network appearance, but the uprising that had ensued had surpassed even his expectations. Those familiar with the law had not been the only ones to speak up in outrage: children followed suit, teenagers, and just about everyone else from every walk of life. Even those who were not human had thrown in their two cents.

The announcement had been a complete success, garnering the attention he had hoped it would, though not because he felt any need to feed his ego. In announcing his objective, he had fulfilled another; from out of the woodwork the sinners had begun crawling, eager to prove themselves above his idea of justice...

They had all but handed themselves to him.

Of course, there was still the matter of determining which of them were actually criminals worth the intervention by Lunatic's hand. One in particular, Dorian Gray, who had gone so far as to invite him to the park, stood out. He had spoken freely of other sins, had even described them as "fun", a clear demonstration of a rather repugnant attitude and, at the very least, deserving of investigation.

With the weather warmed by the time the weekend arrived, the cool reprieve of summer relinquishing its reign to cloudless skies and balmy breezes, Yuri decided to take up Dorian's offer. He found himself in the park one mid afternoon, an open book laid across his lap and a small bag of wild bird seed open at his side. Scattered around the bench where he had chosen to sit (its view was optimal, encompassing nearly all of the park) were twittering birds, eager for their next handful of food.

Under the guise of feeding them, Yuri kept his eyes open for the arrival of Dorian Gray.

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Dorian had been trying to seem normal, to seem like just another imPort brought here from their own world. But that man called 'Lunatic' was interesting. Dorian was used to judgmental tones, scoffs in his direction, people almost pleading for him to stop thinking about himself, stop being such a dick. What he wasn't used to, was people threatening to kill him for his actions, beliefs and 'sins.' He himself wasn't entirely sure if he even believed in sin to begin with.

But one thing was certain: he wanted to meet this Lunatic. Dorian wasn't worried about dying. He was ~~a cocky son of a bitch~~ immortal, after all. And besides, if Lunatic didn't show up, then he could at least get some of this paperwork done. Who knew that being a peer mentor required so much paperwork?

So, he arrives at the park via the bus, paperwork in a messenger bag. Unfortunately, it seems that every single old man is out and about today, playing chess, taking up all the tables. Dorian let out a huffy sigh, and turned to the person nearest to him---which happened to be Yuri, feeding the birds.

"Any idea if there are any other tables around here? I was hoping to get some paperwork done today."

It is difficult not to recognize Dorian when the man addresses him. There is a certain unnaturalness to his young face, a smooth (rather than chiseled) beauty not quite befitting of most men, yet it is uniquely suited to Dorian himself. (Initially, Yuri had thought the other man's flawlessness to be the result of some kind of special effect feature of their phones, but he can see for himself now that that isn't the case.)

Yuri thinks nothing of it at first, of course, too preoccupied is he with sweeping his gaze across the expanse of the park when Dorian conveniently comes to him with a question.

"Many of the tables have been occupied all afternoon," he answers after a moment, returning his attention to the other man. "My guess would be an organized outing for the benefit of the seniors. If you like..."

He pauses long enough to make room on the bench, setting the bag of wild bird seed down upon the ground beside him.

"...you may sit here. That is, if you do not mind the company of birds?"

Dorian looks over Yuri, sizing him up with just a glance. He certainly looked like good company. There was something interesting about his man, slightly authoritarian. But, he was feeding birds. Who would honestly sit down and feed birds?

"As long as the birds don't attack my paperwork, that's fine by me," Dorian said, with a smile, as he sat down next to Yuri. He started to rummage through his messenger bag, pulling out half-finished paperwork and a fairly good-looking ballpoint pen. He pulls out a book as well, some sort of typical top-selling mystery thriller that everybody reads at the library--but is thick enough to serve as a good pseudodesk. "I'm Dorian, by the way."

"I do not think that will be a problem," Yuri responds. "They appear to like being fed well enough, but these birds are still wild. They do not trust people enough to venture closer." As well they shouldn't, as to domesticate the park birds would be to kill them.

Oh, and he would honestly sit down and feed them, thank you.

Their chorus helps him concentrate, much the way a gentle composition would were he tucked away in his office and bent over papers late into the evening. It is also soothing to watch them, free of all the wretched sins mankind possesses. They are not ruthless creatures who slaughter senselessly. Their company is preferred...though he is careful not to let Dorian suspect as much.

He turns slightly at the waist upon the bench and holds out his hand to the other man. "Yuri. Yuri Petrov. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dorian."

"Good," Dorian bluntly responds, with a look towards the pigeons that plainly states he thinks of them solely as annoying animals. They're obnoxious animals who bother you until you give them what they want (bread). But if the pigeons leave him alone, he'll leave them alone.

Sitting down on the bench, Dorian takes Yuri's hand and shakes it. "Yuri Petrov, hmm? I hope you don't mind my asking, but is that Russian?"

Because if so, man was he going to have problems with any sort of non-imPort here.

Yuri is not unaware of the other man's disdain for the birds. He disapproves, of course, for the creatures are harmless enough with full bellies that even if they were to venture closer, it would likely not be to make a nuisance of themselves. They are superior to humankind in that way, he thinks, but he is careful not to let these thoughts show outwardly.

He shakes Dorian's hand and smiles amicably as he does so, even in the face of such a bold question regarding his ethnicity.

"That is correct." He leans against the back of the bench, fingers lacing together in his lap. His being Russian has proven to be a little problematic, but his tactful use of diplomacy has been helpful in dealing with that. "I do hope that poses no problem for you and I."

"Oh, no," Dorian remarks, with a shake of his head. Quickly unbuttoning his shirt sleeve, Dorian rolls it up partly to show his tattoo, his mark of being an imPort.

"I'm not precisely from here." Obviously. "So this really isn't my war." And based on the lax, lasseiz-faire tone in his voice, it probably never will be. He pulls his shirt sleeve back down, buttoning the cuff up again, then tugging on it slightly to pull out any wrinkles--though looking at his sleeve, there really aren't any wrinkles there.

"And, since this isn't my war, I really don't care about the sort of jingoistic sentiment you've probably encountered already. I was simply curious." Aka nosy.

Yuri does not miss a beat; he observes Dorian's tattoo and memorizes the status that is displayed there when the glimpse is first offered. Such an arrogant individual, he thinks at the same time, but outwardly he is the embodiment of calm and acceptance.

"That is a common feeling among imPorts," he responds, noting also the man's straightening of a shirt sleeve that cannot possibly need any further straightening. "It is also a feeling...I do not share."

He tosses more seed to the birds, making no move at all to reveal his own tattoo.

"I cannot expect everyone to share my views, of course. Oftentimes inaction suits certain individuals better than action itself; I am simply not one of those individuals. My being here necessitates my need to do something about the crises being faced, even if all I can do is offer my fellow imPorts my services as their manager." A beat, and then he adds quietly, "With regards to my ethnicity, I have not encountered any opposition that was not easy to weather...but it pleases me to hear your question was born only from curiosity."

Actually, he doesn't care one way or the other; he is a man who knows intimately the hatred of others, a fact that he does not expect to change anytime soon.

The status? Registered. Mostly because Dorian's simply unwilling to give up the perks of the government just yet. His financial situation is too pathetic to get rid of the free housing.

Dorian's making no effort to get out the paperwork he's supposed to be doing. Instead, he watches Yuri feed the birds. At the words 'my fellow imPorts,' Dorian can't help but smirk. So Yuri was an imPort as well. That was reassuring. While Dorian liked the native population and enjoyed how they pestered him about his imPort status and pestered him about superheroes, there was certainly something for sitting in the park, commiserating with a fellow imPort. A fellow imPort who seemed way too calm about the fact that he was the target of nationalistic sentiment. Yuri wasn't as angry as Dorian expected.

"I'm from 2007, myself. We're on fairly decent terms with Russia, back home." We being the United Kingdom and decent being speaking. "It's so strange. So much of this world is just as or more advanced than my world back home...and yet it's perpetually fifty years behind in politics."

"Several years ahead of myself, then. The year in my world is NC 1978." With a shake of his head, Yuri adds quietly, "Our worlds are nearly thirty years apart. I find it ironic that this one should not discriminate against the points in time we are drawn from, but that it should still hold our ethnic backgrounds against us."

It just goes to show that for however advanced a human civilization becomes, it is still predisposed to disgusting, hateful behaviors. Humanity...such a revolting race.

"In any case...we are on amicable terms with Russia where I am from. In fact, the hostilities here came as a very unpleasant surprise when I first arrived. At first, I was not certain how to handle matters, but it would appear I have done a satisfactory job so far." Temporarily closing the bag of seed, he turns his attention to Dorian's makeshift lap desk. "Am I keeping you from your work?"

Letting out a small 'pfft,' Dorian shook his head. "The paperwork can wait." And honestly? He doesn't really want to be doing it in the first place. Anything to postpone the inevitable is aokay with him. "I'm really enjoying this conversation."

And that's the honest truth. He finds Yuri interesting, in how he's quiet and yet intense all at the same time--and that he feeds the birds. Who does that anymore?

"Anyway, back on what we were talking about. Humanity's always divided itself into groups, whether it's ethnic lines or religious lines." Dorian talks with his hands as he's speaking, bisecting the air above his makeshift lap desk. "You've got us over here," one hand moves to the left, "and them over here," the other hand moves to the right. His tone is purely stating the obvious, mostly because in his mind he is. He's been around for over a hundred years, and division is a constant.

How straightforward.

"I am glad," Yuri replied. "There are few so interested in the topic. It is refreshing to be able to talk freely about it." Though how liberal he was willing to be was another matter entirely. After all, Dorian was a perfect stranger, and for all his eagerness to converse, he was also perfectly untrustworthy.

"It's true, humanity is given to dividing itself. That may be the one thing each of us imPorts has in common, worlds in which the history is pregnant with segregation." It was the same in Sternbild; ordinary humans held themselves apart from NEXT, and vice versa.

"And I'm sure that even the worlds that aren't humans have the same problem." After all, weren't there some robots here or something like that? Fun fact: Dorian didn't know.

"Maybe it's an aspect of sentience more than humanity," said with a wave of his hand. Again, Dorian didn't know. And he doubted that he'd ever get an answer on that. How exactly did you police what was sentient and what wasn't?

"Perhaps," Yuri said with a nod. "In any case, it is inescapable."

More accurately, it was inescapable for now. In the world Yuri hoped to help usher in, such evils would not exist. Whether for reinstated consideration for one's fellows, or because fear was a successful way to reign people in, only time would tell.

"Tell me, Dorian...if you find yourself mostly unaffected by such things, where then does your interest stem from?"

"Interest in what?" he asked, shifting his position on the bench so that he was looking more directly at Yuri. "In humanity? In the natural divide between groups? Or in something different entirely?"

"All of it," Yuri answers. "Do you hope to change it? Or are you content to sit idly by and watch as things take their natural course...?"

"I'm just one man," Dorian remarked, with a little shrug. "I doubt I could do that much."

And that's a firm belief in his mind--though not as belittling and modest as Dorian's trying to make himself seem. Dorian's been on Earth for over a hundred years and all he's done so far is cause others pain. All the better to keep things to himself, to not change anything unless it benefits himself. He couldn't change the world, but he could make himself happy.

"Besides, politics bore me. I'll never be able to change it like some other people will."

"It is not the man, but his attitude."

And a man like Dorian, seemingly content to let the world writhe in its filth as he hugs the sidelines and watches, has a very poor attitude indeed. The world, Yuri thinks, would be better off without people like him.

"In any case," he continues with a grim smile, "politics are a sinister game, and I do not blame you for wanting no part of them. I only thought to ask because...a man who does nothing for the world in which he lives can be said to forfeit his right to complain about its condition."

"I'd like to think I do what I can," Dorian remarks, with a frown. No. He doesn't. This is him lying out his ass. "But again, I don't come into contact with most of the world on a regular basis. I mean," and here he laughs slightly, shaking his head, "I was a banker back home, not a world traveller or anything like that. I do what I can for the world around myself."

Which is a lovely, sugar-coated way of saying 'if it benefits me, I'll do it.'

"And what is it you do here, if I may ask?"

"Mold young minds into becoming productive members of society." The smirk on his face shows precisely what he thinks about that: it's bullshit. The idea of him of all people, training young minds? It was utterly ridiculous.

This wretch is overseeing young adults? Yuri does not envy the youth of this society, in that case. Should Dorian instill in them his ideals about sin...

What a nauseating thought.

"If you do not mind my saying, the very nature of your occupation thereby connects you with your surrounding world on a very fundamental and important level. You are the keystone in the lives of many...that which helps them hold their shape. Yours is not a role you should treat so flippantly."

"They don't listen." He's still flippant, rolling his eyes slightly as he talked, paying absolute minimal attention to the fact that Yuri probably thinks he's a massive shitheel.

"Have you ever tried convincing a fourteen year old to do something they don't want to? It's like pulling teeth." Dorian sighed, shaking his head. "You can try, but a lot of the time it simply won't work."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have." Not all of the Heroes in Sternbild are adults, and half of the adults themselves behave as children. "In my experience, it is not so much a matter of convincing them to do something they do not wish to do, but rather...convincing them they want to do that thing."

A dog runs by chasing a frisbee and startles the birds. They scatter into the air above, a great big flock of tawny feathers beating in perfect synchronization.

"Do you not like your job, Dorian?"

"Not entirely." He didn't really know why he was talking about this to a practical stranger. But hey, he knew he enjoyed Yuri's company, from the short time they were talking together. Plus, Dorian would take almost any opportunity to talk to himself.

"I find it hard to connect to them. Shocking as it may seem, I'm a bit older than I look." Accompanied with a small little smirk at his own joke. Understatement of the century. "I haven't been their age in a while. I simply don't know where to start."

That explained so much.

"Perhaps you would be better to look for work in a different field, then. One you would be happy in?" It was an attempt to appeal to the man's obvious vanity. "What interests a man like you, who is older than he looks?"

Yuri wondered at how much older that meant, but he wasn't about to ask outright. To do so would be rude, for one, and for another...there were probably other ways to find out if such information ever became pertinent.

"Well, I was a banker back home." Dorian leaned back, sinking into the bench, slouching even more. "I suppose I liked that." Suppose he liked that. He didn't like the job, but he certainly liked the company he made. Though really...would he meet the same people in Heropa as he met in London? The two were vastly different cities.

Still, worth a shot, he supposed. What's the worst that could happen? At the least it would be a different type of work that what he had here.

A banker. It is not difficult to imagine Dorian in that line of work. It's self serving enough, and it is impersonal enough, too. Furthermore, Dorian looks every bit a man who takes pleasure in the finer things that life has to offer, and handling money (or swindling, as Dorian has the look of such a man, as well) would be right up there on the list of pleasures to indulge in.

"Ah, so I know who to come to if I have any questions pertaining to banking," Yuri says with a little bit of humor.

He couldn't help but laugh at that, smiling at Yuri. "Not entirely. I was a banker in London. I'm sure that some aspects are the same, but knowing my luck, American banks would do something strange that I haven't a clue how to deal with."

"That would be most anyone's luck, I am afraid."

Of course, Yuri is in no actual hurry to seek financial advice from someone like Dorian. The conversation is merely a pretense. In that regard, it is growing increasingly difficult to maintain; talking for the sake of talking has never been a strong point of Yuri's, nor is it a skill he favors strengthening.

Opening the bag of feed once more, Yuri throws a final handful to the birds. The bag is then sealed up and, with calmness and grace, Yuri rises from the bench.

There is probably nothing more that he can learn from Dorian in this situation. The man bears watching, but how much he cannot say. Of course, someone with Dorian's ego is bound to put a foot wrong sooner or later. Perhaps he need only wait until that time presents itself? In any case, he turns to face Dorian and holds out his free hand.

"I should be leaving, but I have enjoyed talking with you. Perhaps we will be so fortunate as to find one another here again."

Yeah, Dorian's currently planning to rob a bank. Yuri has him pegged. As he stands up, Dorian frowns for a bit, expression on his face that plainly states 'we're finishing this already?' In comparison to Yuri, he's a Chatty Cathy and could easily find something to talk about if it meant postponing paperwork.

The expression fades and is replaced with a small smile as Dorian shakes Yuri's hand. "I probably should get started on this paperwork anyway. But hey, we're both imports, we'll definitely see each other around." Suddenly, an idea hits Dorian. Holding up a finger in a gesture that purely implies 'wait a minute,' he quickly rummages for a pen and a blank form. Tearing off a strip of the form, Dorian quickly scribbles some numbers on the paper, then hands it to Yuri.

"That's my mobile number. Feel free to ring me up anytime, whether it's for business or pleasure." A mischievous smirk accompanies the word 'pleasure.' He doubted that Yuri's idea of pleasure was the same as his...but hey, you never know. And there was certainly no harm in trying.

While the circumstances behind the promise of seeing each other again may not be the same in their minds, it is nevertheless a shared sentiment that they will inevitably meet again and Yuri obligingly nods his head. How and when their paths may cross will undoubtedly vary depending upon circumstance, but sooner or later they will, and that is what matters in terms of their present conversation.

"I look forward to that," Yuri says, and when he is offered the slip of paper with Dorian's mobile number he accepts it without pause. The probability of his needing to or even wanting to call Dorian is low, lower still after the particular emphasis of the word pleasure, though outwardly he appears nothing less than amicable to the idea. He even goes so far as to linger with his hand held out, a thought appearing to occur to him as well. He gestures with an opening and closing of his fingertips. "Might I borrow your pen and a piece of paper? There is every chance you may wish to call me, also. Far be it from me to make myself unavailable."

Let Dorian make of his offer what he will if it promises more information in the long run. He is but a civil servant, after all. Or so he likes to say. It's a splendid excuse to fall back on when he needs to.

As Yuri gestures, Dorian springs to life, grin on his face as he tears more of the form off. Handing the strip of paper and the pen to Yuri, Dorian can't help but feel a bit proud of himself. He honestly has no idea what Yuri's particular...ah, inclinations were. But he was confident in his ability to wear the man down if needed. Like most of his aspects and skills, Dorian had nothing but utter confidence in himself.

And oh, there would be plenty of reasons why he would want to call Yuri. Dorian was inventing a couple in his mind right now.

"Here you go." He couldn't help but grin, as he looked over from Yuri to the birds, now in the trees or trying to bother someone else on a different bench. The grin, however, wasn't pleasant or pure happiness. There was an undercurrent of pride in Dorian's smile, as well as something a little yearning. "It's so weird, isn't it? To think, we met just earlier this afternoon and here we are, fast friends." That prideful smile quickly faded to something joking, as Dorian shrugged, obviously giving off the impression that he was just joking. Fast acquaintances, more like. He wasn't so sure about friends.

Accepting the paper and pen, Yuri busies himself with writing his mobile number using slow, precise strokes of the ballpoint. Dorian's behavior is noted with a discerning once-over that could be interpreted in different ways; how quickly the other man's demeanor changes when his ego is fed even just a little, Yuri observes. Is that all it will take if they should meet again? A little pomp and a little flattery?

No, it cannot be so easy. The man strikes him as conceited, yes, but not as an imbecile. Still...a little word manipulation couldn't hurt.

"I do not think it so strange," Yuri murmured as he hands the pen and the slip of paper with his contact number on it back to Dorian. "I have heard it said once before that necessity is the mother of strange bedfellows. We have something in common, you and I...and that is our need to stick together. As imPorts, if nothing else."

He can't help but laugh a little at that. Strange bedfellows. Oh, the understatement of the century. How little Yuri knew of things strange, of things different, odd, things you only thought about in the back corners of your mind before you went to sleep. Dorian knew those things. He courted darkness and despair on a regular basis, seeking out the macabre and the morbid.

"Some bedfellows more strange than others," he added, with a smirk. And some of the bedfellows preferred to hide their strangeness, keep it behind a veneer of propriety. "After all, imPorts come from all walks of life, ranging from the sensible to what you would define as exotic."

There are things he knows little of, it's true, but if this world has given him any gift, it is that of a broader horizon, his eyes opened to so many possibilities he never even dreamed of before. For now, that is all he needs. What experiences may come of it he will weather then, as he weathers most things in life, be they good or bad or something in between.

Aloud, however, he agrees. "Yes, some more strange than others." He turns, ready to leave then, but pauses to look back over his shoulder. Dorian has the right of it; imPorts are sensible and exotic alike, but so many more are purely toxic.

"I don't have to worry about you, do I? Being too strange, I mean."

Yes. Yes he did. Dorian Gray, the immortal, a man who sold his soul for something as petty as eternal youth, leaving a trail of death and destruction in his wake no matter where he traveled. Yuri had every reason to be worried about him. Dorian chose to hide this information behind a little nonchalant shrug instead.

"Dunno. Do you consider English bankers to be strange?" English bankers. How perfectly reductive of the myriad complexities that he was.

"What was it you said? With your luck, American bankers would do something strange...I think that was it." Yuri smirks. "And with my luck, Dorian, English bankers are also strange. I suppose I oughtn't hold it against you, though."

He leaves the comment to hang in the air between them, meaning something and nothing important at the same time. A simple wave is offered as he departs, taking his belongings with him, and his smile.

"Until we meet again."

"Until we meet again," Dorian responds, with a nod and a small smile. As Yuri leaves he, with a sigh and an annoyed expression, starts to pull out the paperwork.

Well, it needed to get done eventually.

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Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face.

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