Hikaru Shinta (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
icarusalsoflew) wrote2013-12-24 01:52 pm
icarusalsoflew) wrote2013-12-24 01:52 pm
003. and in every raindrop... // open post.
Take a prompt, take some time, drop in as you like. If you're from Eudio, though, mosey on down here.
Take a prompt, take some time, drop in as you like. If you're from Eudio, though, mosey on down here.
[ Since the two of you are at it for most of the evening and the early hours of the morning, it's only a little before dawn breaks that Josh finally falls asleep, his lips pressed gently against your brow and his arms gathering you close like he still can't believe that you said yes to taking the chance with him. He's up a little before noon then, the light from behind the curtains of your suite rousing him from sleep to see you still there, still beside him with your features softened in repose.
It's enough to make him want to snuggle back under those blankets and close his eyes again, but the trip to Arcadia looms close and he's got to set his affairs at the office in order. Andy will be seeing to everything in his place while he's gone for that estimated month, so it'll be easy -- hopefully -- to just sort out what things he'll need to leave in his assistant's care.
So he'll ease himself gently off that bed and tuck his pillow up against you before he's leaning down and brushing a kiss on your forehead. His clothes from the evening before are alright to go around in for the most part ( coat aside, he'll leave that here ) but he does make a quick call to reception if he can avail of a speed-laundry service, yes, he is ready to shell out a little extra, and can they also extend the check-out to the next day let him just get those card details.
The clothes he needs are ready in an hour and he moves around the room quietly, getting dressed and coordinating with the concierge to make sure to send you food and see to everything you need while he's away.
This is the little message you'll wake up to, penned in his own hand and tucked between your fingers which he'd kissed before he headed out: ]
It's enough to make him want to snuggle back under those blankets and close his eyes again, but the trip to Arcadia looms close and he's got to set his affairs at the office in order. Andy will be seeing to everything in his place while he's gone for that estimated month, so it'll be easy -- hopefully -- to just sort out what things he'll need to leave in his assistant's care.
So he'll ease himself gently off that bed and tuck his pillow up against you before he's leaning down and brushing a kiss on your forehead. His clothes from the evening before are alright to go around in for the most part ( coat aside, he'll leave that here ) but he does make a quick call to reception if he can avail of a speed-laundry service, yes, he is ready to shell out a little extra, and can they also extend the check-out to the next day let him just get those card details.
The clothes he needs are ready in an hour and he moves around the room quietly, getting dressed and coordinating with the concierge to make sure to send you food and see to everything you need while he's away.
This is the little message you'll wake up to, penned in his own hand and tucked between your fingers which he'd kissed before he headed out: ]
Hey, Babe. Had to run to the office for a bit.
Just sorting out some things with Andy and my staff
before the Arcadia Engagement.
Just ring the concierge if you're hungry. I've already
let them know to get you whatever you want -- and I'm
paying. No, you have no say on the matter and I love you
very, very much you are very welcome.
The room's ours for the rest of the day. Worked out an
extension for us so that we can both move at leisure.
I'll wrap up as quickly as I can. I love you so much, Hikaru.
--Josh
Edited 2015-01-25 08:42 (UTC)
[ Interestingly enough, your boy's stirring about an hour after you leave for the office. Why? Because comfortable as this bed is, it doesn't have you in it.
Thankfully(?), you're not going to get to see the way he ends up reading the note you left him thrice, smiling in an stupidly happy way that the cigarette he's smoking through can't quite hide. He's just... going to keep this note, yep. Might as well start making collecting the little things you leave for him a Thing.
He has a Thought over brunch, while he's looking down at the ring you've slipped on his finger. Said Thought is the reason why he ends up leaving that hotel room when he could very easily idle the hours away, thinking on how to best arrange himself for your return.
This shouldn't take too long. If it does, though, it'll be worth it.
Promise. ]
Thankfully(?), you're not going to get to see the way he ends up reading the note you left him thrice, smiling in an stupidly happy way that the cigarette he's smoking through can't quite hide. He's just... going to keep this note, yep. Might as well start making collecting the little things you leave for him a Thing.
He has a Thought over brunch, while he's looking down at the ring you've slipped on his finger. Said Thought is the reason why he ends up leaving that hotel room when he could very easily idle the hours away, thinking on how to best arrange himself for your return.
This shouldn't take too long. If it does, though, it'll be worth it.
Promise. ]
[ He does not, apparently, finish up as quickly as he had thought he would, to make sure that his absence from Rhiannon Taguig is worked out. It's not so much the paperwork or the staffing, he has been informed firmly that the department will run smoothly until his return.
It's the other things -- getting dragged down by the other department heads for a late lunch, the extended smoke break at the inner garden some fifteen minutes after he gets back, his own people dropping in by his office in a large group -- that ends up letting three hours turn into five and then six.
By six forty-five he's finally back at his desk, door closed and hair a little mussed from running his fingers through them that he sends you a message via text: ]
[ He honestly doesn't even feel annoyed. All the well-wishes have been heartfelt and it's so nice to see so many feel so incredibly happy for the both of you. He just wanted to curl up with you some more, have dinner and cuddle again. That kind of thing. ]
It's the other things -- getting dragged down by the other department heads for a late lunch, the extended smoke break at the inner garden some fifteen minutes after he gets back, his own people dropping in by his office in a large group -- that ends up letting three hours turn into five and then six.
By six forty-five he's finally back at his desk, door closed and hair a little mussed from running his fingers through them that he sends you a message via text: ]
i'm running late. i know, i'm sorry :(
apparently news travels fast. and i have never
heard 'congratulations' so many times throughout
a day i swear i am wrapping up soon.
[ He honestly doesn't even feel annoyed. All the well-wishes have been heartfelt and it's so nice to see so many feel so incredibly happy for the both of you. He just wanted to curl up with you some more, have dinner and cuddle again. That kind of thing. ]
[ And what was all of that about this Thought of his not taking all that long to act on?
He can be wrong, sometimes (take, for example, now), so in actuality? He's a little relieved to get that text from you. ]
[ Eventually.
Hopefully soon.
Yeah.
That is also, in all likelihood, one of the few times that your boy has ever used an exclamation point in a message to you. ]
He can be wrong, sometimes (take, for example, now), so in actuality? He's a little relieved to get that text from you. ]
Don't worry about it. In fact, feel free to take your time. I'll come around and pick you up!
[ Eventually.
Hopefully soon.
Yeah.
That is also, in all likelihood, one of the few times that your boy has ever used an exclamation point in a message to you. ]
[ Ys is in the distance the night they decide to make camp and Josh, like he has in nights previous, stepped aside to train in order to beat back the building tension in his chest, in his blood.
He knows what it is, he and Hikaru had spoken about it before, on the first night camped out after the trods.
It worked, at first. It doesn't seem to be doing as well tonight. Nevertheless, he spends the next two hours working up a sweat and practicing his forms before he gives up and makes his way back towards the tent he shares with 'Yun Song'.
There's a hunger in your fiancee's eyes, Hikaru. He's keeping his gaze averted though. He's stubborn enough to think he can hold out a little bit more. Eriskay is close. Close enough to try and wait. ]
He knows what it is, he and Hikaru had spoken about it before, on the first night camped out after the trods.
It worked, at first. It doesn't seem to be doing as well tonight. Nevertheless, he spends the next two hours working up a sweat and practicing his forms before he gives up and makes his way back towards the tent he shares with 'Yun Song'.
There's a hunger in your fiancee's eyes, Hikaru. He's keeping his gaze averted though. He's stubborn enough to think he can hold out a little bit more. Eriskay is close. Close enough to try and wait. ]
[ And unfortunately for you, Josh, your fiance has stepped back in mere minutes ago from bathing in a river that's near the camp. He's dressed in loose kimono - the kind that you wear to bed - and he's toweling his hair try as he makes a beeline for his section of the tent. The entire floor area has been partitioned by dividers, with the majority of them marking off his area and yours. It's important to keep up appearances.
Glancing your way once you come in, and smiling a bit before ducking behind those partitions. He noticed that hunger, of course, but he respects you enough to not point it out. ]
Glancing your way once you come in, and smiling a bit before ducking behind those partitions. He noticed that hunger, of course, but he respects you enough to not point it out. ]
[ Honest to God, it kind of really sucks -- keeping up appearances.
You're so near but awfully far in ways that has been slowly killing him because as much as a good chunk of the entourage towards Eriskay are people that you're both familiar with, he doesn't want to take chances.
You're close to Oberon's kingdom. It's not too far a stretch to think that a messenger or whoever might suddenly drop in. The last thing he wants to do is break cover, but he misses being able to share your bed.
He's hunting up the basin now, and the water kept closeby for convenience. The river is close but he doesn't really... trust anything in Arcadia. Better safe than sorry, you know? ]
You're so near but awfully far in ways that has been slowly killing him because as much as a good chunk of the entourage towards Eriskay are people that you're both familiar with, he doesn't want to take chances.
You're close to Oberon's kingdom. It's not too far a stretch to think that a messenger or whoever might suddenly drop in. The last thing he wants to do is break cover, but he misses being able to share your bed.
He's hunting up the basin now, and the water kept closeby for convenience. The river is close but he doesn't really... trust anything in Arcadia. Better safe than sorry, you know? ]
[ Sometimes, just sometimes, Hikaru. You are so damn infuriating.
You aren't heavy in the least, so he makes a big show of dropping you down in that bed of yours, flat on you back before he's turning you around and rolling you onto your stomach. ]
I'm not going to even tell myself that you didn't just enjoy me carting you over like a sack of laundry.
[ He's got you pinned down; his mouth is right along your ear. ]
You aren't heavy in the least, so he makes a big show of dropping you down in that bed of yours, flat on you back before he's turning you around and rolling you onto your stomach. ]
I'm not going to even tell myself that you didn't just enjoy me carting you over like a sack of laundry.
[ He's got you pinned down; his mouth is right along your ear. ]
[ Hey, for somebody pretty damned infuriating, he isn't putting up much of a fight. He's squirming just enough to make it a little more interesting, though. Just that.
Chuckling, low and a little breathless, over those sheets. He's trying inasmuch as he can to crane his neck and pin you with a look over his shoulder. It's the kind of look that shouldn't be on the face of somebody in such a compromising position. ]
Good. That saves you just a bit of dignity.
Chuckling, low and a little breathless, over those sheets. He's trying inasmuch as he can to crane his neck and pin you with a look over his shoulder. It's the kind of look that shouldn't be on the face of somebody in such a compromising position. ]
Good. That saves you just a bit of dignity.
[ There's the soft shift of his breathing as you do that and you'll undoubtedly catch the look that flashes in his eyes briefly.
It's been a while, okay. And Ys has been one headache after another. Manner of speaking. ]
Is this one of those things that gets you going? Me picking you up and dragging you off.
[ He is not going to think about how it actually get his blood up. It's been a while. ]
It's been a while, okay. And Ys has been one headache after another. Manner of speaking. ]
Is this one of those things that gets you going? Me picking you up and dragging you off.
[ He is not going to think about how it actually get his blood up. It's been a while. ]
[ His arm rests comfortably around your shoulders when you both make your way back to the chambers he shares with you in the wing of the castle sectioned for the royal family. The affection he offers is easy, gentle; undemanding. This is your boy being just who he is with you, reminiscent of that now long ago drive to Tagaytay when the two of you decided to put all your reponsibilities aside for just one day to be together.
It's been a pretty full day for Josh, Adventure Time-ing with Kaz, speaking with Geomi and expressing his desire to be, if it were even permitted, to lay his heart at your feet all over again; and then the child -- Lyall, you'd named her. And then the trip down to that dark place that had made him at first, in awe of the morbid beauty of decay up until the moment he saw that room, understood it's significance.
Perhaps you felt it, earlier; the quiet, tightly boxed in rage. The knee-jerk thought that struck him: how that room was something he would have readily burned down with one perfectly careful drop of a lit lighter -- naive as that sounds, but nevertheless earnest and truthful in its intent.
He is not a violent man by nature, even with a snap-temper that he knows builds and builds silent and sure until it only takes one small thing for the proverbial glass to spill over. But he knows now, with certainty that he would kill for you. And as much as he could go as far as saying he would probably die trying, he can't. He won't. Because coming home to you means so much more.
It is only when you both step through that door that his arm falls away, other hand catching yours even as he shuts that door and sets the lock. The pressure of his fingers around your own is a gentle but firm one that says, wait, don't step too far that I can't feel your skin on mine.
He doesn't say a word when he turns to you; when he frames your face with his hands, weight shifting from one foot to the other as he brings his lips to yours as his eyes shut because the sight of you is already branded into his brain.
It's the kind of kiss that possibly might leave you breathless; patient and thorough and reined in desire all at once. A kiss that could sear as much as it tries to quench. One that wants your attention solely on what he's offering you -- even as he backs you up towards that bed and all the way until you're both down on those sheets, his form stretched over you like a blanket.
It is a kiss that has thrown all caution to the wind because there is something he has not asked, and he's decided that if he never does, then the answer will always be "no," won't it? So yes, he's asking now.
( Let him love you the way he knows how, and the way he wants to, trulym Stand with him on the middle ground. He doesn't have much, but he would offer everything that makes him who he is and then some -- because this is you. ) ]
It's been a pretty full day for Josh, Adventure Time-ing with Kaz, speaking with Geomi and expressing his desire to be, if it were even permitted, to lay his heart at your feet all over again; and then the child -- Lyall, you'd named her. And then the trip down to that dark place that had made him at first, in awe of the morbid beauty of decay up until the moment he saw that room, understood it's significance.
Perhaps you felt it, earlier; the quiet, tightly boxed in rage. The knee-jerk thought that struck him: how that room was something he would have readily burned down with one perfectly careful drop of a lit lighter -- naive as that sounds, but nevertheless earnest and truthful in its intent.
He is not a violent man by nature, even with a snap-temper that he knows builds and builds silent and sure until it only takes one small thing for the proverbial glass to spill over. But he knows now, with certainty that he would kill for you. And as much as he could go as far as saying he would probably die trying, he can't. He won't. Because coming home to you means so much more.
It is only when you both step through that door that his arm falls away, other hand catching yours even as he shuts that door and sets the lock. The pressure of his fingers around your own is a gentle but firm one that says, wait, don't step too far that I can't feel your skin on mine.
He doesn't say a word when he turns to you; when he frames your face with his hands, weight shifting from one foot to the other as he brings his lips to yours as his eyes shut because the sight of you is already branded into his brain.
It's the kind of kiss that possibly might leave you breathless; patient and thorough and reined in desire all at once. A kiss that could sear as much as it tries to quench. One that wants your attention solely on what he's offering you -- even as he backs you up towards that bed and all the way until you're both down on those sheets, his form stretched over you like a blanket.
It is a kiss that has thrown all caution to the wind because there is something he has not asked, and he's decided that if he never does, then the answer will always be "no," won't it? So yes, he's asking now.
( Let him love you the way he knows how, and the way he wants to, trulym Stand with him on the middle ground. He doesn't have much, but he would offer everything that makes him who he is and then some -- because this is you. ) ]
[ Prior to the moment that you reeled him in, he was perfectly content with walking side by side with you all the way back to the rooms that the two of you share in the Palace. His brain is generally a mess of exhaustion, worry, low-grade irritation and constant attempts at Not Thinking about several matters that just won't leave him alone.
Your presence, though, always helps. He always feels like kicking himself a little whenever it becomes clear to him that he's led you to believe that it doesn't.
Attempts at Not Thinking become a reality once he you're bringing him over, and the moment his lips come in contact with yours. There's something truly beautiful in the way an intimate kiss between one's self and the person you'd break the world down for without a second thought, and how it suddenly makes the world make sense again.
He is quiet in those initial seconds, and then that gives way for soft, pleased sighs against your mouth, and the small shift of his body that allows him to fit himself against you. He could almost forget that his mien has shone through because of Arcadia, and that mien feels, in spite of anyone's best efforts, like an open wound that he has to stare at in the mirror every time he leaves his room in favor of a new night. ]
Your presence, though, always helps. He always feels like kicking himself a little whenever it becomes clear to him that he's led you to believe that it doesn't.
Attempts at Not Thinking become a reality once he you're bringing him over, and the moment his lips come in contact with yours. There's something truly beautiful in the way an intimate kiss between one's self and the person you'd break the world down for without a second thought, and how it suddenly makes the world make sense again.
He is quiet in those initial seconds, and then that gives way for soft, pleased sighs against your mouth, and the small shift of his body that allows him to fit himself against you. He could almost forget that his mien has shone through because of Arcadia, and that mien feels, in spite of anyone's best efforts, like an open wound that he has to stare at in the mirror every time he leaves his room in favor of a new night. ]
Edited 2015-02-15 09:20 (UTC)
[ He remembers the very first time he saw you like this: you hair grown long and textured like a wolf's pelt, your skin like moonshine, and the rings against the violet of your eyes bringing to mind the last vestiges of a sunset. He hadn't been able to tell you then, how you'd taken his breath away, and how he'd wanted so badly to slip his hand into yours when you'd lifted your lips for another to kiss.
He'd been uncomfortable then; on guard. Titania was beautiful and more than her fair share of intimidating with effortless grace and movements that made it clear she was something more. But he regards her as much a friend as he can one of the Gentry, and the same can be said of Oberon, her husband, given the events of the last few weeks.
He pulls back briefly to look down at you better, his weight braced on both his arms. There's a tremor in his touch as he brushes the hair back from your eyes, before he traces the features that are sharper, smoothed down to a kind of perfection it cuts and wounds. ]
I know I probably sound like a broken record, but you're so beautiful.
[ His thumb lingers tenderly on your chin for a moment, before he allows that hand roam over the fabric of your clothes, fingertips following the design of your Brotherhood uniform to settle at your hip. There is only one thing in his eyes: how much he loves you, how much he needs and wants you, and how he really, really hopes that you won't turn him away.
He's tried to show you in recent weeks, in the few times you've had to let your mien show through, that you're as beautiful to him like this as you are in the skin he knows you best in. At the end of any day, it's still you, after all and as naive as it sounds, scars mean that you survived. That in the wake of what Izanami had done, you'd offered others compassion instead speaks of the man he'd fallen in love with before he even figured it out for himself.
It hurts you -- this, Arcadia, even the kingdom that loves you and wishes you to think of them as much home as the Fifth World -- and he had to stand in one of the spaces that's given him a better understanding of why.
Not dead enough, he'd told Makoto. Izanami could not remain dead enough. She isn't the kind of ghost he can send off, but if you let him, he'd like to help you make new memories -- better ones -- to help you feel safe. ]
He'd been uncomfortable then; on guard. Titania was beautiful and more than her fair share of intimidating with effortless grace and movements that made it clear she was something more. But he regards her as much a friend as he can one of the Gentry, and the same can be said of Oberon, her husband, given the events of the last few weeks.
He pulls back briefly to look down at you better, his weight braced on both his arms. There's a tremor in his touch as he brushes the hair back from your eyes, before he traces the features that are sharper, smoothed down to a kind of perfection it cuts and wounds. ]
I know I probably sound like a broken record, but you're so beautiful.
[ His thumb lingers tenderly on your chin for a moment, before he allows that hand roam over the fabric of your clothes, fingertips following the design of your Brotherhood uniform to settle at your hip. There is only one thing in his eyes: how much he loves you, how much he needs and wants you, and how he really, really hopes that you won't turn him away.
He's tried to show you in recent weeks, in the few times you've had to let your mien show through, that you're as beautiful to him like this as you are in the skin he knows you best in. At the end of any day, it's still you, after all and as naive as it sounds, scars mean that you survived. That in the wake of what Izanami had done, you'd offered others compassion instead speaks of the man he'd fallen in love with before he even figured it out for himself.
It hurts you -- this, Arcadia, even the kingdom that loves you and wishes you to think of them as much home as the Fifth World -- and he had to stand in one of the spaces that's given him a better understanding of why.
Not dead enough, he'd told Makoto. Izanami could not remain dead enough. She isn't the kind of ghost he can send off, but if you let him, he'd like to help you make new memories -- better ones -- to help you feel safe. ]
[ When you finally come by, Hikaru, this one will be waiting in the chambers set aside for you both. He's leaning against the wall by the window that overlooks the rest of Tintagel, his eyes fixed on some indeterminate point in the distance. Josh is dressed still in the outfit he wore to the celebrations: long robes, high collar, the motif on the fabric done in shades of blue to best offset the way Arcadia has changed the look of him. He wanted to wait for you, he doesn't mind doing that. Besides, it's a pretty beautiful night and the view is great from here.
Perhaps you'll catch snippets of his idle thoughts as they move from one thing to another: first, contemplating a little on Titania's gift -- the flower the exact shade of your eyes, one that had tasted exactly the way you taste. Even with the wine he'd chosen to wash it down with, he had caught himself occasionally chasing it's remembered taste with his tongue as the two of you had sat in that hall.
That's not too far a leap from the thought that he thinks on next, how while he hasn't come to think of Arcadia as safe, it's always been a thing for him to count blessings where he could find them. He's considering how the awakening of Mab led to the fall of Kyopelinvouri and the death of Leanan Sidhe, and how that makes this the second victory in a campaign that is, in a word, daunting. And sure, he might have no deep love for Arcadia, but the people he's met, the experiences he's had -- both bad and good -- it makes for something that he can wrap his head around.
He's seen your kingdom and met your people -- and by that he doesn't mean the citizens who look to you the way others would look to a god. You have loyal men and women who respect and love you in their own individual ways. And outside of the Lightless Lands there are your allies, Faerie who he would have thought not to trust or care about -- only he sort of does now.
And then of course, there is you and he can still remember the way you'd looked when he'd asked you to shed your human mask to reveal the skin underneath. He doubts he will ever truly relax in Arcadia -- but he's as comfortable as he can promise to be, and sometimes that's enough. ]
Perhaps you'll catch snippets of his idle thoughts as they move from one thing to another: first, contemplating a little on Titania's gift -- the flower the exact shade of your eyes, one that had tasted exactly the way you taste. Even with the wine he'd chosen to wash it down with, he had caught himself occasionally chasing it's remembered taste with his tongue as the two of you had sat in that hall.
That's not too far a leap from the thought that he thinks on next, how while he hasn't come to think of Arcadia as safe, it's always been a thing for him to count blessings where he could find them. He's considering how the awakening of Mab led to the fall of Kyopelinvouri and the death of Leanan Sidhe, and how that makes this the second victory in a campaign that is, in a word, daunting. And sure, he might have no deep love for Arcadia, but the people he's met, the experiences he's had -- both bad and good -- it makes for something that he can wrap his head around.
He's seen your kingdom and met your people -- and by that he doesn't mean the citizens who look to you the way others would look to a god. You have loyal men and women who respect and love you in their own individual ways. And outside of the Lightless Lands there are your allies, Faerie who he would have thought not to trust or care about -- only he sort of does now.
And then of course, there is you and he can still remember the way you'd looked when he'd asked you to shed your human mask to reveal the skin underneath. He doubts he will ever truly relax in Arcadia -- but he's as comfortable as he can promise to be, and sometimes that's enough. ]
Edited 2015-04-02 13:28 (UTC)
[ He does, indeed, partake of the thoughts flitting through your mind as he slips into the room. He sifts through them, as if he was sipping from a drink that whose taste he initially found curious, and eventually came to enjoy. What occupies him more at the moment is the way you look from where he is in the entrance to the rooms that the both of you will be sharing for the next few days: you dressed in a manner suited to your station within his realms, arrayed in colors that suit you best, silhouetted against the gentle illumination of the fragments of the dragon eggshells that remain of Avalon's moons. Winters are always mild in Titania Silvertongue's lands, so there is no unpleasant chill wafting through the open windows. Nevertheless, there's a glance from your fiancee towards the main fireplace, and that is all it takes for the rosewood logs within it to set themselves on fire.
Smiling now, as he moves over to where you are. ]
She likes you.
[ Perhaps he need not explain which "she" he is referring to, given what you were just thinking about. ]
Smiling now, as he moves over to where you are. ]
She likes you.
[ Perhaps he need not explain which "she" he is referring to, given what you were just thinking about. ]
Hey, [ You'll have to excuse him for not noticing you at first. He was pretty much wrapped up in his own thoughts before you stepped in. But you'd know, wouldn't you?
Holding his hand out towards you now, ready enough to draw you close into the circle of his arms. ] The feeling is mutual.
[ He murmurs that softly, gaze falling to where his thumb passes over the ring he gave you not too long ago -- by Fifth World time -- before he lifts your hand up to his lips. He doesn't know what Titania did, or if it'll work out in his favor at the end of it. He just knows that whether or not he has a right to it, or whether or not it's a smart thing to feel -- a Faerie Queen allied with the Vigil offered him a gift when he'd been happy to ask for none. That's a gift horse whose mouth he won't look into right now. ]
Everything okay?
[ You told him to go ahead. He won't press, he'd just like to check that things are good. ]
Holding his hand out towards you now, ready enough to draw you close into the circle of his arms. ] The feeling is mutual.
[ He murmurs that softly, gaze falling to where his thumb passes over the ring he gave you not too long ago -- by Fifth World time -- before he lifts your hand up to his lips. He doesn't know what Titania did, or if it'll work out in his favor at the end of it. He just knows that whether or not he has a right to it, or whether or not it's a smart thing to feel -- a Faerie Queen allied with the Vigil offered him a gift when he'd been happy to ask for none. That's a gift horse whose mouth he won't look into right now. ]
Everything okay?
[ You told him to go ahead. He won't press, he'd just like to check that things are good. ]
[ Waking up is slow and lazy, the sounds of the room gradually filtering in. He's had the chance to get accustomed to feeling comfortable in the chambers shared with his fiancee, so he recognizes the feel of the sheets that he's lying on, can pick up the familiar scent of Hikaru and himself. It's a strange sensation, how he doesn't really mind anymore that this place isn't home, because he's finding that he can think of it as that, even just a little. A safe place. A good place.
So even as he lies where he is, eyes closed and cheek pressed into the pillow tucked beneath his head, he smiles quietly to himself and curls his fingers so he can better feel the weight of his engagement ring on his skin.
In a year's time he's going to get married -- vows and all. Honest to Elaine, it's pretty mind-blowing if he actually thinks on it. Attraction to another person to the point of acting on it had never come easy for him. But then, there he was, a boy seven years younger and yet at the same time, infinitely older given the circumstance of Hikaru's functional immortality. Someone he couldn't quite get out of his head ( maybe if he hadn't felt so confused at the time, he would have seen it for what it was: desire, longing and need in another who seemed so unreachable ) but who somehow managed to end up his.
Yeah, that ring's a welcome weight, steadying and full of promise in spite of a lot of things. A thing to look forward to. A future they could probably live out, for however long they could. He's sinking back into that bed, muscles shifting, smile in place. There's no real reason to get up just yet, so. ]
So even as he lies where he is, eyes closed and cheek pressed into the pillow tucked beneath his head, he smiles quietly to himself and curls his fingers so he can better feel the weight of his engagement ring on his skin.
In a year's time he's going to get married -- vows and all. Honest to Elaine, it's pretty mind-blowing if he actually thinks on it. Attraction to another person to the point of acting on it had never come easy for him. But then, there he was, a boy seven years younger and yet at the same time, infinitely older given the circumstance of Hikaru's functional immortality. Someone he couldn't quite get out of his head ( maybe if he hadn't felt so confused at the time, he would have seen it for what it was: desire, longing and need in another who seemed so unreachable ) but who somehow managed to end up his.
Yeah, that ring's a welcome weight, steadying and full of promise in spite of a lot of things. A thing to look forward to. A future they could probably live out, for however long they could. He's sinking back into that bed, muscles shifting, smile in place. There's no real reason to get up just yet, so. ]
[ In the meantime, the man that you're going to marry happens to be less than an arm's length away from you at the moment. Your boy is currently sitting up with his back against the headboard of his massive bed (it really IS massive, he did try to complain to Tala Vega about that already, but she had insisted as had his people) wearing nothing on his skin but his haori from last night over his shoulders, chin tilted up towards the gentle breeze wafting in from the windows. Perhaps you'll catch the familiar scent of the blend that he likes to smoke the most from his pipe, given where you're positioned.
Is he pleased with himself right now? Very. He's keenly aware of the warmth of you beside him, and of the way you smell. He can feel, deep inside of him, how amazing it had been, having himself sheathed deep within you and being drawn in and against your insides yet again. His ears still ring with the delicious sounds you had made as he had fucked you the other night, and his skin still tingles at the memory of your skin against it/your sweat and cum drying on its surface. He's smoking, but it's doing little to quell the lingering taste of you on his lips and in his mouth.
By Elaine, you were magnificent last night. And you had all been his, just as you had been the very first time he had taken you. You had writhed against his skin, and even when he had pushed you, time and again, past words, every sound that left your tongue had the syllables of his name on them each time you came.
...Thinking more on this is dangerous. Instead of dwelling on how he'd love to take you again several more times before you even get to leave this bed, he's taking another drag from that pipe and exhaling into the cool air. ]
Is he pleased with himself right now? Very. He's keenly aware of the warmth of you beside him, and of the way you smell. He can feel, deep inside of him, how amazing it had been, having himself sheathed deep within you and being drawn in and against your insides yet again. His ears still ring with the delicious sounds you had made as he had fucked you the other night, and his skin still tingles at the memory of your skin against it/your sweat and cum drying on its surface. He's smoking, but it's doing little to quell the lingering taste of you on his lips and in his mouth.
By Elaine, you were magnificent last night. And you had all been his, just as you had been the very first time he had taken you. You had writhed against his skin, and even when he had pushed you, time and again, past words, every sound that left your tongue had the syllables of his name on them each time you came.
...Thinking more on this is dangerous. Instead of dwelling on how he'd love to take you again several more times before you even get to leave this bed, he's taking another drag from that pipe and exhaling into the cool air. ]
[ He picks up the scent from that pipe of yours and turns his face to one side to slide a sleepy look your way. Godfuckingdammit. You're so beautiful like this, it cuts as surely as a knife to his insides. One he'd gladly help you slide in.
Closing his eyes again, the shift in his breathing close enough to a sigh that borders tentatively on the sound he swallows down. He can still remember the way you were above him, driving him on as you filled him up in a way he's wanted for some time now.
He doesn't bother to hide the way his fingers curl into the covers. With your heightened senses, you'd have already known that he was awake.
Face back into that pillow then. Lying on his stomach is going to get terribly uncomfortable real quick, but he would rather not move if it means making his sudden morning hard-on worse. ]
Closing his eyes again, the shift in his breathing close enough to a sigh that borders tentatively on the sound he swallows down. He can still remember the way you were above him, driving him on as you filled him up in a way he's wanted for some time now.
He doesn't bother to hide the way his fingers curl into the covers. With your heightened senses, you'd have already known that he was awake.
Face back into that pillow then. Lying on his stomach is going to get terribly uncomfortable real quick, but he would rather not move if it means making his sudden morning hard-on worse. ]
[ For everyone's reference: Hikaru Shinta has been absolutely fucking boring for the past week. Work at the police station has picked up a bit with some new cases, it's paper checking season at the university, and a butt load of new requests to translate this or chip in his two cents for that have come around, effectively keeping him holed up in the office of the penthouse he and Joshua LaRue share.
In light of all that, maybe one can say that it's the universe's fault. Those who know Hikaru best, however, are likely perfectly aware of the fact that he brought this unto himself. He LIKES being busy, see. He'll complain about being overworked and how he longs for a vacation, but then he gets bored so quickly and find some other new thing to kill himself over.
Really: he ought to stop doing that.
Anyway, he's at his desk, working through a cigarette, flipping through a book so heavy and thick it might as well be a murder weapon. He is, of course, blissfully unaware of how he looks right now: dressed down in a loose shirt that's just barely buttoned up and silk pants, eyes on the prize, lips pressed together, brows furrowed in concentration. He's also unaware of the fact that Naoki, hismonstrously huge cat is curled up in a disgruntled heap on the table, eyeing his master with Grave Disapproval. ]
In light of all that, maybe one can say that it's the universe's fault. Those who know Hikaru best, however, are likely perfectly aware of the fact that he brought this unto himself. He LIKES being busy, see. He'll complain about being overworked and how he longs for a vacation, but then he gets bored so quickly and find some other new thing to kill himself over.
Really: he ought to stop doing that.
Anyway, he's at his desk, working through a cigarette, flipping through a book so heavy and thick it might as well be a murder weapon. He is, of course, blissfully unaware of how he looks right now: dressed down in a loose shirt that's just barely buttoned up and silk pants, eyes on the prize, lips pressed together, brows furrowed in concentration. He's also unaware of the fact that Naoki, his
[For everyone's reference: yes, he has. And to it all, Mae and Josh have shared their fair amount of eyeroll over the table or the desk or the couch - whatever furniture they were near, let's leave it there - over the past week, but a migraine's coming on.
She may not have known him for as long as Josh has, but even Mae knows he's bringing it on himself on purpose. For a few simple reasons: he's got TAs to split the grading burden with, and there are no 'cases' in Eudio that merit locking himself up in the office that long (people don't usually...commit crimes when it might land them in jail and keep them from getting some.)
(And don't even get her started on that part, don't.)
For the record, she tries to be very understanding, distraught by her own term papers and the part-time job that keeps her busy, but there are limits. Today for example, she comes into the flat expecting to find him more relaxed and with less work on his hands, and sees the complete opposite.
And you know that it's bad, when Naoki's the one who looks at her like Do you want to handle this or what?]
It smells like ashtray in here. [Cheerful, as usual. She strides into the office, throwing her back and coat on the sofa and moving to open the window.] What part of the city can't live without your help today?
She may not have known him for as long as Josh has, but even Mae knows he's bringing it on himself on purpose. For a few simple reasons: he's got TAs to split the grading burden with, and there are no 'cases' in Eudio that merit locking himself up in the office that long (people don't usually...commit crimes when it might land them in jail and keep them from getting some.)
(And don't even get her started on that part, don't.)
For the record, she tries to be very understanding, distraught by her own term papers and the part-time job that keeps her busy, but there are limits. Today for example, she comes into the flat expecting to find him more relaxed and with less work on his hands, and sees the complete opposite.
And you know that it's bad, when Naoki's the one who looks at her like Do you want to handle this or what?]
It smells like ashtray in here. [Cheerful, as usual. She strides into the office, throwing her back and coat on the sofa and moving to open the window.] What part of the city can't live without your help today?
[ There's a weight in his heart that seems to extend to every inch of him, but he lets his feet carry him past the halls, down the corridor towards the offices the Queen of Spring had arranged for her ( once and always ) beloved.
The memory is hazy of that afternoon, sic days ago, his body dying all around him just as memory flooded through ( not Makoto, but Coach -- Coach who had offered him the Bargain with a smile and an open hand "You look like you need a hand there, Josh." ) Every last cell in his body remembering what it was like in fast-forward motion, to succumb to disease; his quiet horror as he watched those rings rust over, the connection between him and Makoto severed as though someone had taken a pair of shears to string.
You have to trust me, Hikaru had said then. Just. Trust me.
And then the blade -- sharp and true had run him through, his fingers curling around the fabric of his boy's shirt as Stan and Yulia had looked on, everything else both slowing and speeding up that one minute his friends were there and then next he could feel the dark rising, the cold dragging him down until the last thing he saw and felt was the tears slipping down to fall from those beautiful violet eyes to land on his cheek.
His hand is poised to knock on the door, as if he might wait for permission first before entering your space.
He lets it drop to the knob instead, turning it/pushing it open. ]
The memory is hazy of that afternoon, sic days ago, his body dying all around him just as memory flooded through ( not Makoto, but Coach -- Coach who had offered him the Bargain with a smile and an open hand "You look like you need a hand there, Josh." ) Every last cell in his body remembering what it was like in fast-forward motion, to succumb to disease; his quiet horror as he watched those rings rust over, the connection between him and Makoto severed as though someone had taken a pair of shears to string.
You have to trust me, Hikaru had said then. Just. Trust me.
And then the blade -- sharp and true had run him through, his fingers curling around the fabric of his boy's shirt as Stan and Yulia had looked on, everything else both slowing and speeding up that one minute his friends were there and then next he could feel the dark rising, the cold dragging him down until the last thing he saw and felt was the tears slipping down to fall from those beautiful violet eyes to land on his cheek.
His hand is poised to knock on the door, as if he might wait for permission first before entering your space.
He lets it drop to the knob instead, turning it/pushing it open. ]
[ Before we talk about the Here and Now, let's wind all the way back to those terrible, fatal moments that followed in the wake of your heart giving out, your body bleeding itself dry, your brain firing off those last little morsels of a consciousness fading before shutting down. Let's go back to those ten seconds that your boy allowed himself to spend crying before his sister came, before she lay a gentle hand on his arm, and peered right into eyes that were exactly like her own in that unspoken gesture of pull yourself together, there is much that needs to be done.
So he swallowed those tears and buried them deep. He embraced his Brother - the shadow between each and every one of his thoughts - and flew on His wings in order to reap you, quietly severing your soul from your body. Setsuna stepped in at that moment, binding everything that you were to the hole of your existence in the Pattern, the body you left behind. She kept vigil as her little brother Walked from Arcadia to the Black Cathedral, where the Well was.
That is where he shattered your soul, love. He lay it over the cold stone of the altar where the Brothers and Sisters in Violence say their mass, sank his hands into your chest and pulled and pulled until it broke into two halves of a whole. He ate the dark that was threatening to swallow one half, taking the corruption into himself. He held the other half out, and let the stray - once a wretched little kitten, now a lion as brilliant as the sun - emerge. Then he brought the pieces of you back, to where his sister sat waiting.
You were the only thing he was truly aware of in the days to come, even over the ache of his own body. The clock counting out the remaining seconds of your life dominated his thoughts, making everything taste and feel like ash, rendering everyone around him - even Alistair - into murmuring ghosts. He had to watch and stay vigilant. He had to be ready for anything. In that light, perhaps it isn't so surprising that when you actually DID wake up, he was still going through the motions like some sort of puppet left dangling from its strings, jeered around by thin air.
So why are you going to end up walking in to your boy with his head in his hands, crying in front of the holoscreen of his console? Because, in an effort to soldier on and Do What Must Be Done, he ended up getting a request to revise your dossier from the Rashinban.
BRENNAN, JOSHUA LEE (LARUE, JOSHUA)
Age: 28
Class:
+ Sin-Eater; Threshold: The Stricken (2056-2063)
+ Card; Triumph Undetermined (2063)._
[ Few things can unravel the quiet comfort of denial than the clinical finality of a report. ]
So he swallowed those tears and buried them deep. He embraced his Brother - the shadow between each and every one of his thoughts - and flew on His wings in order to reap you, quietly severing your soul from your body. Setsuna stepped in at that moment, binding everything that you were to the hole of your existence in the Pattern, the body you left behind. She kept vigil as her little brother Walked from Arcadia to the Black Cathedral, where the Well was.
That is where he shattered your soul, love. He lay it over the cold stone of the altar where the Brothers and Sisters in Violence say their mass, sank his hands into your chest and pulled and pulled until it broke into two halves of a whole. He ate the dark that was threatening to swallow one half, taking the corruption into himself. He held the other half out, and let the stray - once a wretched little kitten, now a lion as brilliant as the sun - emerge. Then he brought the pieces of you back, to where his sister sat waiting.
You were the only thing he was truly aware of in the days to come, even over the ache of his own body. The clock counting out the remaining seconds of your life dominated his thoughts, making everything taste and feel like ash, rendering everyone around him - even Alistair - into murmuring ghosts. He had to watch and stay vigilant. He had to be ready for anything. In that light, perhaps it isn't so surprising that when you actually DID wake up, he was still going through the motions like some sort of puppet left dangling from its strings, jeered around by thin air.
So why are you going to end up walking in to your boy with his head in his hands, crying in front of the holoscreen of his console? Because, in an effort to soldier on and Do What Must Be Done, he ended up getting a request to revise your dossier from the Rashinban.
BRENNAN, JOSHUA LEE (LARUE, JOSHUA)
Age: 28
Class:
+ Sin-Eater; Threshold: The Stricken (2056-2063)
+ Card; Triumph Undetermined (2063)._
[ Few things can unravel the quiet comfort of denial than the clinical finality of a report. ]
[ Whenever he looked at you -- in the past, before this very moment, since that very first time his heart had realized before the rest of him caught up that he'd begun to look for you, worry how you were and everything else that comes when the fall takes you down, down, down -- he had to deliberately turn his eyes from the clock above your head, because every fluctuation, every dip and year or decade lost had clawed at him.
You two would never have enough time, is the thing he could never wholly, truly admit out loud. You two would be lucky to have five years together, maybe a generous ten -- but not the twenty in the illusion offered by the Dark Hour: the children he'd wanted to raise with you ( Lyle Shinta-Brennan, with your eyes and the smile he shares with Cindy, who you'd both agreed would be Jessiah Vice's godson because wasn't it Vice Technologies that helped make him possible? ) or the years spend hand in hand on the battlefield and off, always coming home to whatever safe space either of you carved out for yourselves; a home in the West District of Falner, among family and friends.
He had been reluctant to admit it out loud, that he'd wanted so much, because even selfishness had it's limits ( here and now, he'd said at some point or another, live in the moment, take it as it comes -- what a goddamned lie ) even if all he could ever want in the world was to stay by your side for longer than a mortal lifespan; to wake up and see your face in peaceful repose as the sunlight crept past the curtains, warming the wooden floor.
What else is there to admit? Plenty, as far as he's concerned. He'd buried his feelings away, shut them tight in a box all the what-ifs, all the possibilities held out in the open hand of something beyond him. The desire for more, for everything he could ever want because wanting shouldn't be wrong it just is.
In those moments when the blade of Liliana Panilio-Frostholm's hungry ghost had them all caged in that little glade, he had lifted his eyes and thought: I don't want this. I don't want to walk out of this with one less thing. So when the static came to fill his mind and the voices that had shared his headspace had been silenced in favor of an echo of his own -- he said 'yes', soldiering on, believing that he was right--
--headstrong and stubborn shunting aside everything else.
He's crossing to you as quick as his feet can take him, dropping to his knees; hands reaching for yours.
There are no words he can say to make any of this better. He was wrong, he is sorry, he was selfish and what's done is done. ]
You two would never have enough time, is the thing he could never wholly, truly admit out loud. You two would be lucky to have five years together, maybe a generous ten -- but not the twenty in the illusion offered by the Dark Hour: the children he'd wanted to raise with you ( Lyle Shinta-Brennan, with your eyes and the smile he shares with Cindy, who you'd both agreed would be Jessiah Vice's godson because wasn't it Vice Technologies that helped make him possible? ) or the years spend hand in hand on the battlefield and off, always coming home to whatever safe space either of you carved out for yourselves; a home in the West District of Falner, among family and friends.
He had been reluctant to admit it out loud, that he'd wanted so much, because even selfishness had it's limits ( here and now, he'd said at some point or another, live in the moment, take it as it comes -- what a goddamned lie ) even if all he could ever want in the world was to stay by your side for longer than a mortal lifespan; to wake up and see your face in peaceful repose as the sunlight crept past the curtains, warming the wooden floor.
What else is there to admit? Plenty, as far as he's concerned. He'd buried his feelings away, shut them tight in a box all the what-ifs, all the possibilities held out in the open hand of something beyond him. The desire for more, for everything he could ever want because wanting shouldn't be wrong it just is.
In those moments when the blade of Liliana Panilio-Frostholm's hungry ghost had them all caged in that little glade, he had lifted his eyes and thought: I don't want this. I don't want to walk out of this with one less thing. So when the static came to fill his mind and the voices that had shared his headspace had been silenced in favor of an echo of his own -- he said 'yes', soldiering on, believing that he was right--
--headstrong and stubborn shunting aside everything else.
He's crossing to you as quick as his feet can take him, dropping to his knees; hands reaching for yours.
There are no words he can say to make any of this better. He was wrong, he is sorry, he was selfish and what's done is done. ]
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