![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
(Closed) Deceuer Catch All
Who: Asura + Plotted CR
When: Deceuer
Where: Various locations in Aefenglom, the Outer City, and the Wilde.
What: Quest and event threads, along with a healthy dose of clowning. I'm always down for building new CR, so if you'd like a thread starter, feel free to hmu @ the Dec plotting post!
Warnings: Light violence.
When: Deceuer
Where: Various locations in Aefenglom, the Outer City, and the Wilde.
What: Quest and event threads, along with a healthy dose of clowning. I'm always down for building new CR, so if you'd like a thread starter, feel free to hmu @ the Dec plotting post!
Warnings: Light violence.
SOKIE; Deceuer 2 - 4
Asura and a certain necromancer both, they've been on the hunt for more than a day now, and while they've laid waste to a number of Cwyld-touched beasts (incinerating the remains, moving forward and on after they're done), the King is aware that their trip isn't solely for the thrill of the fight; the uphill battle to clear the forest. Where he'd first suggested the excursion as a d a t e ("I want to get lost with you, out in the Wilde", he'd said to her after she'd tried and partly succeeded in breaking his face), it had quickly evolved into a test of their partnership. Sokie, she'd allowed the King to aid her in casting the magic necessary to keep her body whole and hale beyond the reach of the Bright Wall, and in the midst of the spell, Asura had felt her (the twist and twine of her magic against his own; the scent and sharp taste of ozone) in a way he hadn't before.
Always, he'd sought to employ magic as a weapon, a tool easily called to hand and just as readily cast aside. Never had he bothered with attuning himself to its ebb and flow; how it could be perceived as an extension of a Witch instead of an armament. (And if it is, then damn, both Sokie and her magic are near untouchable and beautiful both.) ]
You doing all right, Sokie? [ —he calls out to her after the Cwyld-creature has crumpled before him, the spear of flame which had brought it down dispelled with a wave of hand. The kill had been clean, the fire-woven weapon cauterizing the lethal blow as it had been made, preventing infected gore from sullying its wielder. And yet... as Asura surveys the area surrounding, listening and watching for any other Cwyldtid which may have been drawn in by the commotion, fatigue marks his brow. Not from physical exertion (no, Asura can certainly keep moving; there is raw power evident in his bearing and frame), but from magic overuse. Sustaining a spellcrafted spear for a bit of training is one thing; employing it in constant, consistent combat is another. ] Think you dropped something.
[ He trusts her, then, to watch his back as he moves to retrieve...! A small satchel which has fallen a fair distance away (perhaps lost during the initial corralling of the Cwyld-beast), one he recalls Sokie wearing at her hip, its ties loosened just enough to reveal a flash of gold and fine metalwork. Is it a ring? ]
no subject
(Then again, she never really liked staying in one place for very long).
Things were good. She allowed him the bit of control by conducting the spell, they were fighting together beautifully- even if she was careful to shield them both a blend of shielding fire over their auras, they were getting slowly in sync with each other.
Realizing what she dropped though, none of the accomplishment stayed. It fled even, as she grimaced, realizing he would see, and she would have to explain and...
She hated feeling.]
You can leave that.
[Maybe it was a loose tie, or maybe it was simply torn away, as a lure could be. Still, should Asura go ahead, he would find there not quite one ring- but a gimmal ring, still shining and newly minted.]
You'll likely need to clean it anyway. Might be infected.
[Not QUITE how it works but she's. Well she's trying.]
no subject
What he does not do is ask, demanding explanation for a trinket so largely out of place amidst the (harmonious) violence which he and Sokie have wrought together. He'd glimpsed it, of course, the pained look which she'd worn (like a child, working up to a confession of sorts), and while Asura is openly curious (there is no denying as much), he knows full well where he can press Sokie and where he cannot.
So he only grins, nodding his head in satisfaction with his completed cleaning job, before pronouncing— ]
Well, it's definitely safe now. [ He'd been thorough, after all. ] Besides, if you bothered to carry it with you all this way, leaving it here would be a shame.
[ He stalls, then, before returning the ring to its satchel, the weight of the gimmal band gone heavy in his palm as the after-effects of magic catch up with him. And though he's employed fire spells aplenty over the course of their time in the Wilde, during his watch at night, he'd called upon divination in the hopes of garnering something (a vision, some knowledge of the Cwyldtid which they hunt) from the dying forest. But rather than reveal any truths of Geargadas, what his magic unearths is....
An unbidden impression from gimmal ring, sealed there by emotion and buried by time.
(A man, jawline for days, with tousled flaxen hair and eyes the color of steel.)
Realizing he'd lapsed into silence uncharacteristic to him, Asura recovers by seeing the ring airborne with a gentle toss, and effortlessly catching it with the satchel. It's an easy thing, after that, to see the parcel returned to its owner, the tips of his talons pressing it into Sokie's hands. ]
...something tells me it traveled a long way to see you, too. [ Green eyes lowering to meet with Sokie's own, Asura's lips quirk up into a wry smile. ] Through time and space and those damn one-way gateway mirrors.
It may be more useful thank you think. [ Or at least, more of an asset than the Gilded Torc which he himself had received. Drawing back and away, there's an easy laugh on his lips as he shakes his head, trying to rid the residual impression from his mind's eye (to no avail). ] Hell, it could even be an inter-dimensional key.
[ Whatever Sokie does or does not tell him, he'll run with it. It's her story, her ring. ]
no subject
Because then she'd really have to get angry at him. Though it wasn't as if he wasn't used to her yelling at him. Usually he made her yell for various reasons other then anger, but anyway.
She crushes the bundle in her hand, and she is tempted to huck it right into the bushes.]
A wedding ring, being an inter-dimensional key? The only thing it is is a shackle.
[She's joking about it, but she's bitter too, even as she moves to tie it back onto her belt loop. Angrily too.]
Especially when it's as new was the day it was locked together. It must have been just cleaned up, right before we connected them together.
[She reaches up to honk his nose, before walking a step beyond him, and another, to survey that they were really out of danger.]
You can make up whatever stories about it that you like Asura. I don't care. But it's not useful. I'm just looking for a reason to destroy it at first opportunity.
no subject
(Just as Asura keeps the memory of that creature alive, their Title embedded in his flesh and blood. And in this way, the Changeling and Necromancer both are more similar than not. ) ]
Much as I like telling tales of Summer's triumphs over the things which go bump in the dark, I'm not in the business of making up fables concerning the people I care about. [ —casual and cool where Sokie burns, Asura makes a show of wrinkling his nose (that honk had been something, not quite the usual pulling of hair) as he follows Sokie's line of sight with his own.
He hears the pair of Cwyld-touched creatures before he sees them, footfalls and rustles of foliage circling the ground upon which he and Sokie stand. With a shift of stance, he sees Sokie and himself positioned back to back, nearly touching as Asura once again summons his spear of flame to hand. ]
The only story I'm concerned with is the one where we carve a path forward together.
[ Against anyone and anything which would seek to keep them bound, Geardagas itself included. ]
Tell you what. [ —he starts, eyes falling closed as he tilts his head back, listening for the Cwyld-beast and gauging their size to be e x t r a large from the sound of their gait; the way bushes and brambles snap and break from their movements. ] When we can catch a breather, how about you give the ring to me, and I'll ensure you never have to see it again? I'll see it cast into the forge at the magitech shop once we get back to the city proper.
[ And that sentiment? It's languid and easy, like they were talking about dinner plans in the comfort of their shared home rather than being stalked by a pair of blighted creatures out in the Wilde after Asura had only just discovered that Sokie had been engaged and married once upon a time.
But then, life's just like that, and sometimes, you've got to roll with it instead of against it, yeah?]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
nsfw allusions ahead!
just a few more nsfw allusions /coughs
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
DANTES;
Footfalls slowing to a stop at the center of the training grounds, the yard flanked on all sides by darkened dormitories marked by numbers, Asura...! Slips into a over-head stretch, languid and slow, rolling his shoulders as he calls out into the burgeoning dark— ]
You out there, Avenger? [ Because damn, if he's been stood up after all that bluster, it'll be a disappointing night. Whoever Mr. Anonymous is, they remind Asura of the Darklings he knows: Mirrorskins and Moonborn who favor shrouds and smokescreens in battle, preferring them to all other battle tactics and strategem. And that thought? Well, it sure as hell makes Asura excited (as is evident in the sharp grin he wears, full of dragon's teeth). While he doesn't care to employ artifice in fights himself (Asura, he's all brute force and physicality, he doesn't concern himself with anything else), that only means he should hone his skill in contending with it. In besting it, and its wielders.
Though it is a cold night, and Asura wears only a (largely unbuttoned) button-down shirt, trousers, and boots, he does not shiver, nor does he seem noticeably cold when he calls out again— ]
Where's that show of yours which you promised?
[ Because hey, s o m e t h i n g needs to kick off this game of hide and seek. Avenger? It's your move. ]
no subject
he promised no hints, could wait for the King to get frustrated. he would have had the mental strength. still, from where he is, he'd be kind enough to offer one thing out.
bringing the cigarette he's been covertly smoking to his lips again, he turns his head just so and breathes out the smoke in the direction of Asura. the breeze will disperse the smoke, make it less obvious as to the source, but it is scent - the same type that clung to that blue suit, something that will drift to the observant and say without words that he is here.
the show hasn't even begun yet. it'll start when Asura finds him, or demands him to reveal himself.]
no subject
[ When the scent of cigarette smoke greets the King in place of words, he is absent of the frustration which might seize upon another: instead, he is only pleased. Thrilled, that this evening will host the hunt he's been spoiling for all this while. Asura is, after all, the Mir Shikar—the Lord of the Hunt—and though he often makes excursions to track and to slay the Cwyld-touched beasts beyond the Bright Wall, the infected are mindless and propelled forward only by hunger. And so, to contend with an opponent like Avenger is a treat, one which Asura would never lay waste to by demanding that all be revealed to him so very quickly.
Game? Set and announced as underway with the rhythmic cadence of Asura's voice, its intonations masking none of his delight: ] I will pursue, then, with pleasure.
[ The smell of the smoke is acrid (fresh, airborne) rather than stale (a ground scent, or a perfume affixed to clothes), and if Avenger's nursing a cigarette, they're doing so from a location which would trap or conceal any rising plumes of vapor.
Flanking the barracks, there are a slew of equipment sheds (dilapidated, many with holes in the roofing), a large residential culvert (carrying away water from the city's relentless rains), and—at a greater distance—the chimney atop the roof of the mess hall. Smoke wafts into the brisk, evening air from the twin stacks (sizable enough to shield the silhouette of another from view), the beginnings of a meal perhaps underway for the handful of Mirrorbound who chose to dwell within the barracks themselves, and Asura...?
Rather than be fooled by the breeze, he makes for the rooftop of the mess hall at his leisure (there is precious little reason to rush). Even if Avenger should not be present there, the location provides a solid view of the sheds and culvert down below. Height and a full scope of the playing field (for the hunter and hidden both) means advantage, after all. ]
no subject
he can't stay idle in one spot. that hardly makes a hunt. he'll cling to the shadows for a while longer, moving a few sheds down, trying to step lightly. still, there are hints - movement and soft sounds, the setting sun slowly sinking. he's not accustomed to being hunted - it's all unfamiliar territory, and a game that in the end he'll lose, if he wants this fight at all. but it doesn't mean he can't enjoy it while it happens.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
this tag got eaten by the holidays i'm so sorry
PALOMA;
So yeah, Winter's one hell of an asshole, but as its onset continues its treacherous work, at least it has given Asura this: the early hours of the morning with Paloma settled atop him after a night of battling rooftop collapses, clearing thoroughfares, and keeping the night's watch while the day-shift rested. And now, now it's their turn to claim a few hours of recuperation (duly earned and much needed, with the snowstorm planted well and fast over the city). The mattress is soft, the bedding is warm (heated through by the fire which burns in the marrow of Asura's crystalline skeleton), and while sleep does not immediately claim the King (it's strange, attempting to find rest at this hour), he is undeniably relaxed as his fingers comb through the billowing curls of Paloma's hair, the weight of her curled against him perfectly tranquilizing. ]
You asleep, Palomabella? [ The lack of response confirms his suspicion that yes, she'd gone and dozed off before him, leaving him as the one to follow after.
And follow Asura does, waking some time later only to find he hasn't woken at all. That around him, a dreamscape has formed though he'd drawn no runic circles and cast no spell, and its architect is his Bonded; the fledgeling Kindred who should have no command over magic at all.
(But then, he remembers: the dreams of Kindred can only be entered upon crafting a suitable pledge and an exchange of vows. And what have he and Paloma done, if not make an indelible promise, linking their souls?) ]
no subject
Is the background ache of dull hunger shaping her dream, then, if everything else is tiring but wonderful? Is it the Beast? Or is it because she never goes a day without awareness of how little of other Kindred she’s learned?
Paloma is in that night class again and doesn’t look up or notice Asura’s presence in it. Life Drawing, a part-time position as TA, and it’s late summer in SoCal. The building’s too old for proper AC, so they’ve got a couple larger fans blowing, though she’s sweaty and sticky in her spaghetti strap sundress. A model is nude while charcoal-using students look enviously on, with the exception of a tall, ghostly pale red-haired man dressed expensively.
He shines. Not literally, but every time Paloma’s head moves in his direction from behind her little desk, his eerie handsomeness swallows the light around him and enhances itself. Her throat, damp and reflecting the bright ceiling lights, subtly bobs as she avoids his eyes, avoids everyone’s eyes in a bid to take minimal space in this classroom. The man frowns delicately at his developing sketch, utterly free of fault, and waits until the teacher’s already assisting another student to lean back in his chair and call softly for: ]
Paloma?
[ Goosebumps. Everywhere. Everywhere. She’s completely locked in behind her desk, not equipped to fight what his void-black eyes do to her, but somehow Paloma breaks off to creep to his side, still without noticing Asura. ]
What d’you need, Carlos? [ They’re whispering, naturally. It’s Life Drawing. She thanks God when he looks at the canvas and tries not to think about the curve of his smile or what she might do if he doesn’t... stop. ]
Just your hand. [ At her startled, nervous glance, he raises his sickly white hands. Several of his long fingers are smudged. ] A hand, I meant. English is not my first, sorry.
no subject
("And I'm not, really. Much of an artist. I study-- studied the history of it, before." So this is it, then. The 'before' which Paloma hadn't cared to elaborate upon when surrounded by the beauty of her rooftop garden and swathed in the affections Asura would so freely give to her.) ]
I could use a hand over here, too. [ Unceremoniously, he turns the canvas before him so it'll meet with Paloma's line of sight, revealing an altogether poor drawing (rife with stick-figure fault), consisting of three creatures: a fruit bat (with large squiggles denoting flailing wings) and a butterfly (wreathed by shorter and longer lines, evocative of the 'glow' of a halo), both resting atop a dragon (with horns similar to Asura's own). ] Could you tell me what these three things have in common?
[ Will Paloma take notice of him, blatant as he's being? Will she come back to herself and take the reins of the dream before her memory (her privacy is something which Asura holds in high regard) reveals more than Paloma would ever care to say herself? There's only one true way to know, and that's by pushing just a little bit more by leaaaaaniiiing precariously back in his chair, defying gravity as he plays charming with a wink of his eye: ]
Can't figure it out for the life of me.
[ C'mon, Paloma, don't stare right through him like he's a damn side-character or something. ]
no subject
Most of the classroom slows and blurs into mixed watercolor, vague shapes and undefined light. Paloma stares, bewildered, at someone and something who should not exist in her mortal world. Halloween is at least a couple of months off, and while there's undeniably a lurch of instant attraction and longing that makes her breath hitch, he's wrong. Completely wrong, here, now. She studies his canvas while the memory of her sire continues to smile with one side of his mouth, faintly amused. ]
That- that's not the model, umm...
[ Blinking furiously, her heart stutters and almost remembers that it's already permanently stopped. She stands a little taller, moves her shoulders back just a bit, seeing Asura with a new alertness as her hands untwist from each other. On a certain level she comprehends what's happening; her dreams are never, ever so vivid to the last detail. This is magic, she thinks. ]
You didn't sign up for this class.
[ Her smile is tremulous and shaky, but she is looking at and not through Asura. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
ENKIDU;
During one such instance, he carries a common spear at his back while scouring the outskirts of the Slums for those most in need of aid. It is slow, ponderous work with visibility so very low, but even the wind which bites at the skin and eyes, whipping snow into lashes of ice, does not prevent Asura from taking notice of a shock of green hair, belonging to someone succumbed to the cold. And Asura? He doesn't think twice before gathering the stranger into his arms, seeing them lifted clean from the snow and held flush against his person because—
Asura, as always, is warm. And for it being so very frigid, he is donning surprisingly little by way of clothes (no thick layers, no Wintertime accessories), the fire crystal of his bones churning out enough heat to assist him in remaining outdoors for longer periods then most. It'll help his newfound companion, too. Prevent their internal their body temperature from sinking too low. ]
Hey. [ He jostles the person in his arms gently, assessing how alert they are; if they're able to give him a response. But... even as Asura looks over the other Mirrorbound (has he glimpsed their face somewhere before?), his attention seems to drift elsewhere as he becomes aware of something (a Shade), its shadowed silhouette just visible at a distance through the thick of the snowfall. ] You going to be all right if we hang out here for a little while longer?
no subject
I am fine. [The tone of their voice is completely neutral and so is the look on their face. Nothing really shows how frustrated they truly are with this entire situation.] I will hold on a little tighter. [And that is what they do, carefully curling their arms around the larger person's neck.]
Normally creatures like these would not have been a problem for me. [They sigh and brace themselves for the fight that is at hand. They have been too weak to handle these creatures alone. Really, it is preposterous.]
no subject
[ And with the other Mirrorbound hanging on for the ride, Asura deems them secure enough to support with one arm instead of two—after all, he'll need the spare to wield his spear in short suit.
A laugh!: ] Anyone who can contend with Cwyld-beasts on the regular is someone I'm interested in going hand-to-hand with.
But, for now... [ As the Shade nears (propelled forward by its hunger), and Asura falls back to terrain which is not flanked by massive drifts of snow (he can't afford for his movements to be hindered, not when he's carrying precious cargo), he asks: ] ...think you could be my second set of eyes?
[ By keeping a lookout for more of the Cwyldtid, Asura does not need to say. Where the King's own eyes are trained upon the threat which he can see (the Shade advancing quickly, now, through the snow), the other Mirrorbound may as well watch his back because...! The next moment sees Asura's weapon drawn, its bladed edge brought down upon the Shade which has caught up to them, thinking that it had finally secured itself a meal after knowing only the cold for so very long.
(It is wrong, of course, and all it is fed is the brunt of a spear, the raw physical force behind the weapon's thrust splintering the creature's shadowed carapace—rearing back, it howls in keening agony, and Asura falls back as well, putting distance between the Shade, himself, and his charge once again. Close-quartered combat when another so happens to be within reach of gnashing teeth and flesh-rending claws isn't high on Asura's list of priorities. But...
As the snow kicks up with a particularly fierce gust of wind... can the other Mirrorbound see where the creature might strike from next?) ]
no subject
But yet...]
Very well. [Reaching their full potential would mean they'd have to master most of the witchcraft here. But maybe it could be achieved. Nothing is impossible even when everything seems rather impossible at this point.] I will spar with you when my strength has returned. I think it would be refreshing.
[Oh of course. Thank whatever gods their eyes are still working.]
Yes. [Enkidu shifts a little, their hold tightening as they start to look out for whatever shadow that might think about attacking. So this is what they are fighting against? That mold. The disease that crawls over these lands and destroys everything in its path. While the other moves and attacks they hold on tightly.] May I give you a little bit of advice? [They lean forward a little while they cover their eyes with their hand. The snow is truly fierce.] Your techniques are impeccable. But try to not put so much strength in every blow, it might wear you down eventually.
[After saying that they look around themselves a little, aware of the fact they can be useful in a position like this.]
Ah! [They lean in a little.] There's one on your left.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
they're getting along so well, i love it! :D
and then !! plot-twist? i'm enjoying their cr. /o/
Same here! Sorry for the slow!
(no subject)
gonna tag anyways :D
PERSEPHONE; Deceuer 12 (Full Moon)
Silence, familiar and comfortable, has long since enveloped them, and truth be told, no words need to pass between the monarchs here and now, where Asura memorizes the shape of the Queen's petaled wings by way of touch (the pads of his fingers skimming over their texture, the feel of them like skeins of velvet beneath the hand) while learning the brush of Persephone's consciousness against his own in tandem. They have been Bonded as of the day before, and Asura is still immersed in the feel of it, for however much he thought he'd known Persephone (they have been allies and lovers, friends and more for so very many years), nothing can quite compare to experiencing the raw edges of her nerves; her sentiments firsthand.
When Asura cares to speak, he is unaware of how much time has passed (though the sister moons remain high in the sky, visible through the windowpane and its frost-covered glass), voice liquid and thick and h e a v y (the King hasn't yet been able to shake his fatigue, after being relentlessly on the move during the blizzard which beset the city not two days ago) with the onset of repose: ]
You are tense. [ Where he is not, a distinct sensation of ease running through their Bond, stemming straight from him. But then, he remembers that even if he should be calm, that tranquility will always be cut by an undercurrent of latent wrath (ever-present in the King, always vying for control), and the thought lingers with him, bids him to ask— ] Is the Bond... am I affecting you?
[ He will know if she does not speak the truth. ]
no subject
It's why there's some apprehension, despite how she remains curled by his side - stray raven curls being played with obsidian tipped claws, the touch incredibly gentle. Mindful of how sharp her talons can be, and having no desire to cause any harm, the touches slow and lazy. Her own fatigue weighs heavily on her, already not being a fan of the cold - now ice has becoming even more of a weakness, something that quickly saps her energy despite the heat that now burns constantly in her chest.
His words snap her out of her stupor, cat-slit pupils narrowing as awareness descends on her once more - eyes of red and sunset flick up at him, hair tousled from her scar and left to flow free. Lips part to give her usual answer, one of reassurance and dismissal, before she stops.
Ah, she cannot do that anymore. He can sense for himself how she truly feels now, and so she cannot brush things aside with a smile as she is wont to do. So she hums lowly instead, tail absently swaying where it hangs from the bed.]
No, it's... I am used to being in my own head, going around in circles. It's very different, feeling someone else there. [It's new - frighting and yet curious. So long she had found herself alone in her mind, adrift in the many thoughts that plague her even as she smiles, acts as the bubbly and frivolous queen of Spring. Now all she feels and thinks, she shares with the King of Summer - no more secrets or hidden feelings.
It's... nice. Being able to be so truly, utterly free, with him. This sense of relief trails through her nerves, easing the tense push of emotions against his side of the Bond.]
But it's not a bad different, not at all.
no subject
I am glad to hear it. [ Her raw honesty. He had seen her stall, felt her pause, but in the end she had looked to him with both eyes, scarlet and sunset, clear as day. Scarred or otherwise, she had chosen not to lie to him, and that is all Asura has ever asked of her. ] Though if it should prove to be a distraction, I am able to limit it, what is communicated through the Bond and what is not. As I am certain you will also be able to do with time, o' Queen of Spring.
[ Here, his lips twitch into a wry grin—no, there is nothing which would prevent the bearer of the Antler Crown (infamous for her guile, for her smile which masked calculated intent) from learning how to compartmentalize her emotions, restricting that which is able to pass through their Bond and link. But... Asura is untroubled by the notion, and if the freedom of baring all to one another is to be something short-lived, the King will certainly make these first few days worthwhile, starting with...! ]
But I will do no such thing, not until you know how it is I feel when— [ With a bow of his head, he sees his lips pressed to the fullness of Persephone's mouth, the kiss which he offers to her sensual and slow-building, deepening by increments and degrees as Asura shifts their position, drawing the Queen more fully atop his person. ] —we kiss.
[ And the emotion which swells to bursting in the King's chest (fed through, and into the Bond) is ardent like no other. If Persephone isn't careful, she might find herself caught, swept up and away, within that current of sentiment and fierce devotion; its pull inviting, enrobing the Queen with warmth. ]
no subject
Here, in Asura's arms, she can simply rest and be at ease - away from subjects and the snow that falls outside. The sway of her tail is slow and lazy, both eyes focused on him despite the darkness that always blocks the vision of the other, humming softly at his words - cheek pressed against his chest where she has settled herself.]
I doubt I will mind most of the time, though you having fun might prove a tad distracting.
[Of course she has to make a comment like that, her own grin teetering more towards the territory of 'shit eating' - not able to stop herself from poking just a little bit of fun at this. But she knows she will eventually find ways to restrict the feedback from her end, her habit of hiding everything under a smile a hard one to break - even though Asura does deserve honesty, more than anything else. Maybe she might be able to keep herself open, willing to bare all that she thinks and feels to him, even if that is such a contrast to centuries upon centuries of behaviors she's forced upon herself.
But now is not the time to think about that, especially when his head dips down to her own - the press of lips to hers returned with no hesitation, talons trailing from raven locks to curl around the back of his neck as she moves atop him. Only encouraging every slow deepen of the kiss, a pleased hum escaping from low in her throat as a familiar warmth washes over her.
Yet, it's the emotions that come through his side of the Bond that almost overwhelm her, that causes her breath to catch in her chest. It's an invitation she cannot ignore, especially as her own feelings loop back to him - an impossibly deep fondness, a sense of bliss that always makes her heart flutter. It makes it impossible to ever consider pulling away, when she can feel what he feels like this - when all it does makes her want to be closer.]
But if this is how you feel, maybe I'll have to ask we don't rush into any limiting what comes through the Bond. [Her words are soft and slow, lips brushing against his own as she practically breathes the words. There's a warmth in her cheeks that threatens to bloom into an actual blush, but this time... This time she won't try to hide it. Embarrassed or no, she'll allow herself to be completely bare to him.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
LIGHTNING;
Truth be told, he is far from surprised that she had volunteered for this particular undertaking, not after she had joined him in running a makeshift security detail for the masquerade, but it is uncanny that they'd been paired together for the task at hand, and Asura? Well, he'll consider the partnership as a bout of good luck, newly surfaced in the wake of the snowstorm that had slowed the city's functions to a standstill, immobilizing the population in a way which only Winter might.
(Damn ice pixies and their ilk, stirring up such a calamitous storm with no apparent rhyme or reason for it. Asura, he'd captured a pair of the little buggers in a jar, attempting to communicate through divination, and all he'd gotten for it had been a huge-ass pile of snow dumped right on top of his bedroom floor.)
But all of that? It's in the past, and the present sees Asura's focus set on protecting his comrades from the known threat lurking inside of Aefenglom's walls.
After they've joined with the bustle of the street, and Asura's certain that their conversation will go unheard beneath the din of shopkeeps and workers, still shoveling their storefronts and businesses out from beneath the surplus of snow, he shakes his head with a low, resonant laugh, readily confessing: ]
Got to say, I'm not the ideal sort for doing anything on the down-low. [ Which is !! Pretty obvious, actually. Asura, he's a big guy, overly flashy and glinting with those golden scales, talons, and horns. What's more, his candid presence is, perhaps, the very antithesis of surreptitious intent.
Still: ] You ever been on any assignments like this, during your run with the Guardian Corps?
no subject
It's true that she had been surprised to see him assigned to a mission like this one. To her, Asura certainly doesn't scream subtlety, but perhaps that will prove to be an advantage for them. Sometimes, it's those sorts of people who are less suspect because of their grandiose exteriors and personalities.
If anything, he looks like he fits right into the Aristocratic District, contrary to Lightning who's donned a black coat and a large pair of boots and hasn't bothered to hide her weapon. As if hiding it would be any better...! She looks like a cop, talks like a cop, and walks like a cop.
She'll still keep her voice low when she answers as they pass another shopkeep shoveling the heaps of snow aside.]
Nothing like this, no. There was a special division of the Guardian Corps, and it wasn't mine. We wanted people to know who we were. Walked around with our stripes, but it did its job. [For a while... Until all hell broke loose thanks to the fal'Cie.] We were peacekeepers, not spies.
[Lightning rolls her head back to stare up at him, a brow raised.]
And what about you? Can't imagine you'd make a real good undercover kinda guy.
[No offense, Asura...]
no subject
Celebrity, because Asura's appearance is every bit as glamorous as it had been on the night of the masquerade: the plummeting temperatures find him wearing an overcoat of crimson brocade with gold embellishments, his green eyes smudged and shadowed with kajal, and the rest of him equally ornate. And by all means, Asura s h o u l d be cold (though he is, at present, wearing layers, none are quite like Lightning's utilitarian black coat), but... the longer she walks astride of him, the more the King's companion will be able to notice: the air around Asura is warm, almost like heat is being thrown off of him. Weird, huh? ]
Let's just say that, as opposed to all this sleuthing business, I'm more of a confrontational, make 'em talk kind of guy. [ And "as long as no one gets hurt" (as the Lead Investigator herself had said) left Asura with a good amount of wiggle room. ] Back home, spy work was more suited to my allies where I stood at the helm and lead military initiatives.
[ Because Changelings, in their own right, were always at war. Didn't matter if they were defending the human populace from the things that went bump in the night, or their own from being captured by the Gentry and dragged back to Arcadia. Always, there'd been reason to fight, and Asura and his Crimson courtiers answered the call. ]
Everyone saw our Summer colors— [ Here, he deliberately taps the red and gold brocade of his coat, the colors the heraldry of his Court. ] —and knew that they were protected.
Guess you and I are not so different, huh? [ Lips twitching up, into a grin, Asura glances down at Lightning, all good spirits and easy camaraderie. ] And that means one of us is going to have to bite the bullet and be out of our element for this mission.
[ One, the distraction, the other, the spy. But however will they decide who's who...? Asura leaves that up to Lightning. ]
no subject
She eyes his colours – the red and gold – and raises her brows. It's like the stripes they wore, and it elicits a swell of pride in Lightning's chest. A part of her does miss that part of the job... walking around the city with the citizens trusting that they were safe, but this isn't so different.
Which is why she'll do just about whatever she has to to ensure that they take care of the job here. Keywords being just about. Especially as they come up to their first target destination – a high-end club with its music blaring from behind the walls.]
I'm thinking that'll be me.
[There's her answer.
Lightning sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. She remembers coming to places like this in Bodhum – it was a party city on the beach so of course there were more than a handful of clubs just like this one – and how far out of her element it brought her. But someone's gotta break up the fights when they get so out of hand that the bouncers can't do anything about it.
She slips an arm through Asura's and eyes the man guarding the door.]
Shall we?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)