Moskva, Moskva

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Sébastien Reid was lost. He was utterly and hopelessly lost. There had been a reason his mother had told him not to stray from their hotel or the concert hall. At first he had listened to her – Nina had decided to stay in London, far away from his music for the moment, so she hadn’t been pressing him for an adventure. As the week had progressed, he had grown antsy. After making sure his mother was asleep, Sébastien had crept out of their hotel room.

His mother had gotten a great deal of attention – she was obviously an outsider. She had pale skin and dark freckles and red hair and green eyes. She was the stereotypical Irish woman, complete with a quick temper and a thick accent. Sébastien had taken after his father – a Russian. He’d hardly known his father – his fondest memories of the man were the few times he was sober and not beating his mother.

Moscow was not as romantic as he’d always imagined. Instead, the drivers were crazy, the people rude, and Sébastien was caught in the middle of it all without any understanding of Russian. Sébastien shrugged off his worries and walked down the street, eventually finding a nice bench with a large tree behind it. He stood on the bench and glanced around before putting his pencil and paper inside his mouth and began to climb the tree.

Once he was up, he grinned and swung his legs, watching the city. He was lost, sure. He wouldn’t be able to find his way back if his life depended on it – and he supposed in a way that it did depend on it. That wasn’t important. He flipped to an empty page in his notebook, his pencil hesitating over it. He often made his own songs, so why was he so stumped lately? He sighed and leaned his back against the trunk of the tree, staring up at the sky. “Come on, Music Deity. Just give me inspiration,” he pleaded.

[ooc| Open.]

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A week. It had been a whole week since Sébastien said he and his mum were going on a flight for one of his performances. The first day wasn't so bad. He could handle not seeing Seb for a few hours, but as the hours dragged into days, Gavri began to realize how much he missed him. It was slowly becomming a desperate sitation as he began trying to think of ways to find Sébastien. And then it hit him. His brother, Leon. One the sixth day, Gavri couldn't take it any more. He needed to see Sebby or he was going to have an absolute tantrum.

"Pleaaaaase, Leon?"

"..... Mama would skin us both, you little pest."

Gavri crossed his arms rather stubbornly as he looked up as his older brother "Just this once? Mama doesn't have to know, right?" he insisted. The argument dragged out for a moment as Gavri saw fit to point out that Leon ran off on all his hair brained adventures all the time. "Just this one time? Please, please pleeeaaase?" Gavri pulled the pout looking up at him, his bright blue eyes round and on the verge of tearing, that lower lip pouting with a hint of a tremble. His hands clasped under his chin as he practically begged him.

Leon groaned as he shoved his hand into Gavri's face "Fine, just quit pouting." Gavri grinned triumphantly as his brother caved to the pout.. or so he had thought when Leon arched a brow at him and simply replied "I'm only doing this so you'll stop making that face. You're doing it all wrong.". Gavri crossed his arms with a less dramatic pout, put off by his brother's jab.

"Okay.. So where are we going, runt?"

"Russia!" Gavri chirped happily, since Leon was apparently going to take him. But he watched the color drain from his brother's face and Gavri tilted his head, confused, when Leon suddenly shoved the vortex manipulator into his hands. "You're... not coming with me?" Leon shook his head annoyed. "I dont do Russia.. And.. ah.. Just between you and me.. Better not tell Papa where you're going, either. Oh.. and that thing works better when you have a way to trace him."

A way to trace Seb? The only thing Gavri could think of was the time Seb had gotten a nose bleed and Gavri had used his handkerchief to help clean his face. It had been washed since then but there were still some blood stain in the fabric. Would that work to trace his boyfriend? One way to find out. Gavri set the coordinates with Leon's help and used the sample in the handkerchief to help lock on to Seb. And within minutes, Gavri was being whisked away.

When gavri arrived, he was shivering, and doubling over with a queasy stomach. Leon never told him how disorienting this kind of travel could be. Fortunately he heard a familiar voice.

“Come on, Music Deity. Just give me inspiration,”

He snuck up behind and gently reached his hands to cover Seb's eyes and he whispered happily. "I'm no deity, but think I'd be a good stand in?"

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Sébastien let out an indignant shriek and fell out of the low branch he had been, the pair of hands still over his eyes. He fell straight into the body, barely being able to catch his balance stop both him and his assailant down to the ground. He blinked, and then smirked down at Gavri. He brushed himself off, his dark cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “You startled me,” he said, although he really doubted that it needed to be said. It was exceedingly obvious from his initial freaking out that he had been terrified. He coughed sheepishly.

“Wait…” Sébastien raised an eyebrow. “Gavri, what are you doing here? I didn’t know you were planning on going to Russia, too! If you’d told me, I’m sure I could have booked a flight for you or something with us,” he said, crossing his arms. Why wouldn’t Gavri tell him that his family was also going to Russia? He shook his head, trying to puzzle out Gavri. He just couldn’t understand it… and then it clicked. A slightly smug look settled on his features and he took a cautious step backwards, aware of eyes on them.

“Really, Gavri. Couldn’t stand to be away from me for more than a week?” Well, less than a week, but Sébastien didn’t want to make Gavri feel too guilty. He longed to give his boyfriend a small kiss or even to simply hold his hand, but he was aware of Russia’s policies against homosexuality. Instead he offered a small smile and a nod of his head as he started to walk. “You have any idea where we are? Because I don’t have a clue.”

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Gavri's eyes went wide as his boyfriend toppled out of the tree, a hand resting on his shoulder. “Are you okay? You didn't break anything did you? Speak to me!!” he shook his shoulders gently and looked him squarely in the eyes and stared, his brows furrowing. “You could have a concussion! How many fingers am I holding up?” he demanded as he held up three fingers to Sebby. Granted, Sebby hand landed awkwardly on his feet and hadn't hit his head but, that wasn't the point. He had to make sure Sebastien wasn't hurt.

“You startled me,”

“Sorry”, Gavri offered a lame shrug as he looked around him, rather confused and offered a nervous chuckle when he asked what Gavri was even doing here. “Would you judge me if I said I missed you?” he asked, his lip hanging in a pitiful pout as he looked up at Sebby with pale blue eyes.

“Really, Gavri. Couldn’t stand to be away from me for more than a week?”

His eyes narrowed playfully as he placed his hands on his hips. “You're judging.” he huffed, blowing a strand of his black hair from his eyes before finally cracking a smirk, showing he really wasn't upset with him. He was too happy to see Sebastien to even be bothered with something like that. He would have just swpt him up into a bruising hug, but something about his body language told him that probably wasn't the best idea.

“You have any idea where we are? Because I don’t have a clue.”

“I've never been to Russia. Maybe we should get a city map or something!” he chirped, happily taking Sebby's hand, not having a clue about Russia's laws. If it was alright in London or France, why not Russia, right? It was an age of tolerance, wasn't it? Gavri also didn't have a clue about the lunatics with cars in Russia. Gavri saw the light turn red and grinned as he went to take the cross walk.

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“What?” Sébastien asked, looking bewildered. “Yes, I’m fine… a concussion?” Sébastien tilted his head, looking rather astonishingly akin to a confused puppy. “I didn’t hit my head. How would I have a concussion?” he pointed out, but apparently Gavri was having none of that as he practically shoved fingers in his face. “Umm… three?” Sébastien questioned, his eyebrows raised. “Gavri… you realize that head injuries are required in order to have a concussion, right? I landed on my feet,” he explained patiently, patting his boyfriend’s cheek playfully, still careful to keep his distance.

His cheeks darkened pleasantly as Gavri admitted to missing him. “Yeah,” he said playfully, ruffling his hair. “I would judge you. But it’s all right… I missed you, too,” Sébastien said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to him. His smirk widened into a grin as Gavri pouted and he felt the urge to sweep him up into a hug again, but instead he refrained. He sighed and took another step back, the tension too much for him. He looked around at the city. “You shouldn’t’ve come. I have no idea where we are.”

He looked down, startled, at their intertwined hands. “A map?” he questioned thickly. “I don’t think that’d help us much, unless you can read their alphabet,” Sébastien pointed out, pointing to the strange symbols. “I can’t.” As Gavri pulled him across the crosswalk, Sébastien squirmed, intensely uncomfortable with the stares they were getting. Didn’t Gavri notice them? Didn’t he know not be gay in this country?

Sébastien finally pulled his hand away from Gavri once they were on the other side. “Thanks for helping me across the street.” He dug his hands in his pockets so that Gavri couldn’t grab them again, a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Anyway…”