Lilli slaps a few quick healing salves on herself, then dashes to Yuri's side, making sure he's in one piece. She may be a shit healer, but she's not about to let him die on her.
"If I'm going to attack, I need you to not die for like, 30 seconds. Think you can manage that?" Raising an eyebrow, she playfully punches his shoulder. "Bet you regret throwing away that shield."
Still, Lilli was made for this. Though she'd much rather parlay with a dragon than slay it these days, that doesn't mean she's forgotten her roots. There's a reason a dragoon's lance is made to pierce scaled hide. The attacks she's been given may be of the sweet variety, but she can work with this.
"Watch and learn, Lowell!" A mighty leap comes with a sugary boost, orienting herself mid-air with practiced ease. Aerial combat, natural as breathing. The pink and blue spun-candy lance materializes in her hand in time for a piercing dive, rending scales and hide asunder.
"If you're still alive over there, there's your opening! I can't finish this thing on my own!"
"i could ask you the same thing," he fires back, matching bump given to his second-rate healer's arm. "setup's all yours, but don't get cocky, dragonslayer. you don't have the character build for it." (translation: knock 'em dead, partner).
it's nice to see some confidence after all the time they wasted, at least. so, the floor's hers; if it blows up, he can just book it with lilli over his shoulder or something.
not that it's needed, he realizes with an appraising whistle; he'd even put her on par with judy... which means this should be cake! lacking in jumps like hers, he takes advantage of the dragon's bellowing to kick up off its tail and launch himself toward its exposed back, landing with a thump and a Gusher Burst(TM) of rainbow flames!
"i'm still kicking! this lizard won't be for much longer, though," he huffs, exhilarated, in the effort of his first swing-- the beginning of an onslaught of scalding slashes across the dragon's hide, as many as he can fit within his 30-second boost!
...right up until the end, when the monster's pained flailing bucks a depowered yuri to the ground, the swordsman letting out an 'oof' as he slams into hard candy asphalt.
"ugh, botched the finish..." he winces, "well, i wore it down! drive it home, lil!"
"how do we feel 'bout a pastel yellow? mint green, perhaps, instead?" he questions, a handkerchief of each color held within a hand. "figured quiche could use a lil' somethin', everyone else has an accessory o' sorts. 'sides, their plumage is comin' in nice, our bloated lil' kidney bean might be set for take off soon!" dar follows that comment with a quiet 'hm', "...whichever one they don't get i might need if i gotta say farewell to the bloody thing."
"i get where you're coming from, but pastels?" for a bird raised by dar, of all people? yuri's doubt holds a teasing lilt as he pinches the mint cloth between his fingers.
he'll be honest, though -- yellow, green, whatever -- he couldn't care less as long as dar's satisfied with it. what he does care about is the pensive undertone in his partner's voice, snagging yuri's brow into a furrow.
"you really think they'll last a day out there without us? giving the puffball too much credit, i'd say." still, quiche is going to leave the nest eventually, right? that's just a fact of life. and yet... he holds back a sigh, favoring levity, "honestly, with how sentimental you are, i'm surprised you haven't suggested matching quiche tattoos yet."
yuri wins himself a puff of laughter with that, dar'khol taking that squeeze as an invitation to make himself more comfortable. drawing closer and eventually separating their hands after a brief squeeze of his own, arms slipping around the other's shoulders.
"bondin' beyond our usual methods, then," head comes to a tilt, as if to make up for his already slanted smile, "since ya wanna be cheeky."
" 'tis also soundin' like someone else doesn't mind it all that much, or perhaps i'm merely jumpin' ahead?" the pressure of lips against his jaw cause the warrior's smile to widen, stretched into giddy, toothy display as a chuckle shakes him.
"saw flyers for a new place offerin' such services, thought it nice if we went together." as dar's tail rises into a curl behind him, his head is brought forward to gently bunt against his boyfriend's. "seemed nice to possibly get somethin' a lil' more permanent... a touch more sentimental..."
slowly, dar lowers his head, tucking it away between his own arm and yuri's neck. a nice little place to hide that returning shade of pink, and offering him a means of muffling his next words, "...somethin' nicer than a cold bracelet if ya go and disappear on me again."
between them, a beat of silence fills the space, then, a sigh ( exaggerated, too, so as to roll the mood back ).
"jumping ahead? there's an understatement," he says, as if a scoff's gonna fool anyone.
a hand raised to comb through russet hair stills; heavy words against his neck bringing him to a breathless halt. that wasn't the first time yuri left -- a shorter departure than the last, but he didn't have so much to lose then. didn't feel panic seize his mind as he came to, repede the only thing keeping him from stumbling on his dazed return to golden.
it still unnerves him. how much he knows his presence can mean to a single person here; how much theirs means to him. a person so sentimental, too...
but neither seem willing to linger on it for now. nothing yuri could say would change what happened, anyway.
"oh, are you now? you wouldn't be the first." his fingers have since reached his partner's scalp, traveling further to gently rub at an ear, "guess i don't mind having a fanboy if it's you, though." maybe it goes both ways.
"but i'll admit... much as i wanna tell you to look before you leap, you weren't wrong," his absent affection continues as yuri's voice softens, eyes drift to a close, and the hold upon dar's waist tightens, comforting and protective, "let's do it. that permanent sentimentality or whatever... if that's what you want, i'm all in."
"one condition: there's no way in hell i'm getting your face poked on me. don't ask."
"that -- listen," an easily-earned dusting of pink decorates his cheeks, carnation ruffled with a flick of an ear. " 'least a bracelet can be removed if... y'know." as if he should even carry such doubts any more. at least he's not given the time to think on them -- his idea wasn't shot down! ( yet! )
"it would be a pretty hefty commitment but, then, so isn't raisin' a chick," tail flicks to the side, eyes drifting with it, "or a dog."
calloused fingertips treat themselves to a trip along that rested arm, traversing its length until snagged upon a bracelet. gently, he offers a tug -- just enough to lift and slip a hand against an awaiting palm, fingers lacing with a paler set. all while gingerly inviting himself onto a favored perch - -yuri's lap.
"or, y'know, carin' for me." lashes flutter in an attempt to ( cutely ) emphasize himself, gods' know yuri's put up with enough of his bullshit by now. "what harm would a bit o' extra bondin' do, anyway? i don't hear ya denyin' a small dose of 'forever'. "
yuri only fills the lull in dar's (valid) argument with a low 'hm', busying himself with the sight of interlocked fingers, matching bracelets, and a welcomed closeness.
"...extra bonding? we've already been doing plenty of that, dude," yuri chimes in with a squeeze of dar's waist. innuendo aside, it's bizarre how unfazed he's become of that word. 'forever'. it still throws an anxious kick in his gut, but if dar said it even just a couple months ago he would've gotten a well-earned scoff. or an eye-roll. or both.
"yeahh, i'm not so sure," yuri is rolling his eyes, actually. damned miqo'te and his lashes. "take enough 'small doses' and it might add up to..." uh. forever-forever...
he regrets opening his big mouth, though. sheepish, deflective habits die hard.
sigh. "well, sounds like someone's already got his heart set. 'theoretical', he says," a laugh leads to a kiss against the other man's jaw, thumb brushing across his waist. "what brought this on, anyway? it's like you're obsessed with me or something."
Lowell hides behind whatever this is. It's easy to see in the eyes of the child.
"Has your weapon returned since?" She asks instead. There was no sign that she'd attack him, so hopefully, that answers his question. The small creature that travels with Dam-bi chitters. It doesn't go near Yuri, but it looks in his direction.
Dam-bi resumes the picking of more mushrooms, though when she sees other plants like beings, she ends up picking those off as well and placing them in her basket.
"Your injury...they didn't leave anything behind, did they?"
with dam-bi occupied, yuri uses the safety net of no eye contact to look over to the girl and her creature once more, then to his sword a little ways from the dock. he answers both questions at once, flatly, "yeah. they did." every last injury, even -- a pattern of faded rings across his torso.
it's not his own scars that keep him up at night, though.
and it'd be nice if he could drop it; to shut his mouth, get back to fishing, and move on from whatever this is, but he can't. it wouldn't be fair to the kid, leaving it as-is.
"i figured something must've cooled you down in the end." he really has no idea what happened postmortem. didn't know who he'd get a straight answer from if not dam-bi herself, so he didn't bother to, well, bother anyone. "...what made you call of that freakshow of yours?"
"so -- theoretically speakin', o' course -- would matchin' ink be considerin' too much?" is there a particular idea in mind? no, not really. however, the concept and possibility might be fueling a twitching tail. ( @darkenforcer )
"the man buys literal bonding bracelets and wonders if tats are too much..."
...that said, it's certainly an idea. though he'd been considering ink on and off for a while -- dating someone with a giant back tattoo does that to a guy -- matching never crossed his mind. the novel (awkwardly-put) question nearly draws his lips upward... but! there's a chain to yank first.
"dunno." he rests an arm on their couch, twisting to prompt dar and his tell-tale tail with a roll of his wrist, "that's a pretty big commitment," (he says, as if raising a baby bird together isn't), "think you could sell me on it? 'theoretically speaking', of course."
If she knew Yuri would be in this area fishing, she probably wouldn't have come this way. Sure, she should talk to him. Maybe they should talk about what happened, but part of her avoided Yuri Lowell for a reason.
You can't run forever.
She could just walk away, but when Yuri and her lock eyes...well, it probably wouldn't be the most ideal TO walk away.
"Good evening, Mister Lowell," Her greeting comes almost distant. She holds the basketful of mushrooms in both her hands and bows her head.
a loose grip tightens around the pole, imperceptibly so; briefly widened, grey eyes slowly averting a pair of green. he almost wishes dam-bi would've walked away, too. would've saved him the oncoming aches, if anything.
he hadn't been running from the inevitable, himself, no... but that doesn't mean he was looking forward to it, either. it's still a chore to pinpoint anything he's feeling (anger? pity? disappointment? more anger?), so he hadn't bothered. all he knows is that it's enough for so much as a basic, four-word greeting to make his insides churn.
"hey," plain, a feigned interest in his fishing line as good an excuse as any to not face her. "back to take another stab at me?" the perfect picture of apathy, dipped in just enough curiosity to not come across as outright dismissal, "well, mind picking up the pace this time? turns out 'slow and painful''s not my ideal way to croak."
"How you like that?" They ask Repede once the companion is given a treat. "It's homemade. The best of the best~!" Eyes meets Yuri's and they smile, a mischievous look on their face,
"It's for animals. The treat I mean. But you're looking at me with those eyes and it makes me wonder if you want some?"
ooh, that's bait. unfortunately for indigo, their mischievousness is met with unflappable regard, "my eyes tell you that, do they?" and a quirked smile, "well, it wouldn't be the first i've tried." was it good? no. but it was edible, so he squats beside his companion to boast, "treated by none other than the master chef, himself! repede's got culinary skills that'd knock us both out of the dog park."
and if repede's acting a little smug after such high praise -- tail a-wagging -- it's well-earned! he takes after yuri's expertise. just... translated to a canine's preferences.
"but i have to ask. calling yours the best of the best? so boldly, too...." his pointed reversal expertly casual. "that based on your own tastes, indy?"
"never came up at work, that's all. i did offer to put in a good word with hawks, but repede said law enforcement gives him the ick, so..." (hand-wave be damned, a vague -- revealing -- sense of pride hangs). "handsome, though? i dunno."
nonchalance deserving of a low grumble, the dog in question swivels from lucia to glare in protest.
woof! yuri ruffles his fur, clarifying with a chuckle, "i mean 'rugged' suits him better, yeah? maybe even 'tall, bark, and handsome' if you're dead-set on using it."
Getting booted (albeit gently) makes Cecil look up, taking in the full view of Yuri's face from below. It's not an easy angle to pull off, but the swordsman looks effortlessly dashing even from here. Add that to his flippant, laissez-faire air...and he's seized with an urge to dress him in velvet, or damask—heavy fabrics for contrast, just to see them rest jauntily on his person.
❛ Your nobles do not have the taste, as they call it, ❜ Cecil remarks mildly. ❛ Love takes all forms. It is sometimes purer and more lovely from being picked up off the dirt. ❜
❛ Ah, but you misunderstand. The ladies, they like to talk, no? It was more business than pleasure with our tête-à-têtes. The gentlemen they come to the shops, but not to my parlor. ❜
He arches an eye brow and adds, ❛ Besides, for a time I had a fiancée...and then my wife. ❜ While that statement hangs, he goes on to probe some more.
❛ You should bring your boyfriend to my shop too. I will dress him like a king, yes? Or queen, if that is what he prefers. ❜
"how profound. got that off a fortune cookie?" the barb is dulled, similar to the sort of banter he'd have with (gasp) a friend. it's not that he's touched by the sentiment, but it's decent lip service; better than what most nobles would say, even in jest.
yuri mirrors the arch of his brow in the brief silence that follows. while it doesn't seem like cecil's in a rush to change the subject, the swordsman notes the abruptness. wonder what's the story there...
"aren't you around my age? must've been someone special to make you tie the knot that quick," positing, rather than prying. not his dirt to dig.
"...wait, you're not just grifting me for my boyfriend's patronage, are you? for shame," he barks a laugh, sending faux-accusation downward before extending a hand, "stick him in the gaudiest eyesore on the rack and you've got yourself a deal."
they're invigorating. each new beat added to this make-shift orchestra of theirs, chest almost thumping in rhythm with their newly gained drums. he followed the beat, still, even after the rising clash of cymbals as balance is knocked away from him; falling breath a split break before everything pulsed in conjunction again.
he can already feel a familiar tug along his face, lips stretching with the following airy puff blown between them. it's a spark indulged in equal measure, blade beside him seized in an all-too-eager grasp. tempting steel against his skin all but fuel added to a growing flame -- one he'd come to miss.
it felt good to come home.
( as if he'd ever left... )
"oh yeah?" practically a purr within a breathy chuckle, "hopin' to crawl into my lap afterwards as you're wont to do, too? muscle memory 'nd all that." fangs flash with a widening grin, second star given a faint tug as dar props himself up; adjusting before an inevitable spring.
like nothing had ever happened, it was easy to fall back into. this song and dance they'd become so used to, the playful words and phrasing. littered with provocation and adoration in equal measure, setting his heart ablaze. he missed this, missed him. yuri had proven he'd follow close behind him, he'd keep trying for him -- for them -- no matter how far the warrior fell. it wasn't fair to keep him chasing what shouldn't have ran to begin with.
no more running, not unless it was following his guiding star back to where he should be. right here, with that heart-cupping smile to greet him. "since when have i ever simply let ya take the lead? we're only gettin' started, the beat's just barely dropped!"
the time for that spring was now! much as he adored his provided view, this dance was far from over. too much adrenaline to be wasted, every joint and nerve aching to move, move, move!
their self-made rhythm a guiding force with every following movement; every fist soared, kick swung or blade brandished. they needed this -- dar needed this.
to feel his heart flutter against every strike, knick or jab. for his chest to swell and bubble over with rising laughter upon each collision and parting break. even if he fell, he'd get right back up. he knew yuri would do the same -- they'd keep going.
── ♪♫ ──
heavily breaths fell against a loosened fist, wrist used to wipe at the warm trickle that fell passed his lip. no doubt split from the last hit taken. the red was hardly noticeable in their flashing waves of vivid color, that favored hue all but concurring the rest as their dance went on.
how long have they been at it, exactly? he sure as hell wasn't keeping track, rather content to keep it that way, truthfully. he could keep going, could keep swinging! right up until exhaustion eventually seized him... or a cheap shot finally landed him on his ass long enough. either or.
"so... ya gotten enough pushback yet...?" shoulders roll, muscles pulled taut for a loud pop. satisfaction rolls out as a low rumble in his chest. "can always aim to tear up the dancefloor a lil' more, i ain't flat on my arse, yet, either!"
he gives himself a moment to breathe, to catch his breath. "unless ya've had your fill," a softened smile thinning out his grin. "i'll be happy either way, love."
it's everything a good fight should result in. muscles that burn and ache with the slightest of movements, groaning in pain yet yearning for more. yuri's left slightly bent in their lull, clutching at his side and panting through parted lips as he watches dar wipe the blood from his. it's a nice sight-- was a solid hit that caused it, too. makes him wonder how long he lasted so long without the catharsis.
wait. he's going with 'love' now? yuri quirks his brow with a laugh (and winces when his bruised ribs protest). he doesn't know what to think of the term of endearment, but it sure makes him feel some sort of way, especially paired with that look of his.
that aside, had he gotten his fill? of this whirlwind of an ass-kicking, maybe, but he's already pumped for their next bout. the miqo'te's getting tougher with each battle, but if that's supposed to be a deterrent, yuri didn't catch the memo. if he's to make good on backing his boyfriend up, he'll just have to keep the pace, right?
even if there will be a point when the power imbalance is gonna be difficult to ignore...
...well, it's not his usual outlook, being the cynic he is, but he wants to stay optimistic that dar won't reconsider all this. hell, he'll fight for it, even. already has.
he starts forward, the tiles shifting the score to a reverberating nocturne. not quite the bombastic, drumming number from before, but befitting in depth, regardless.
eyes cast downward, yuri reaches for dar's hand -- calloused and battered and warm -- and holds it tight. what seared him earlier in the mirror maze, the burning coals he'd raked himself upon for weeks, now fills his spirit (and cheeks) with fire. pleasant, comforting. the kind of flame that makes his breath hitch as it settles in his chest.
"you pushed back plenty, trust me," (and gonna feel plenty more come morning). "the poor staff waiting up front already have more than enough proof that we were up to no good in here. 'specially if i look half as bad as you do."
grazing his thumb across dar's lip in the pause that follows, the swordsman traces the split and presses gently, teasingly, against it.
"but if you wanna have me on top so badly, we can always pick this back up at our place," it's an empty suggestion. much as he'd love to get back to their usual antics (and they will), passing out on their comfy mattress sounds a lot more appealing. doubly so for the man who's gone so long without it, surely. he pokes dar's cheek, chiding despite being the guilty party here, "and by that i mean i'm not letting you out of bed 'til you get some rest. your eyebags have eyebags, sunshine..."
'and... i missed having you next to me,' his bare-knuckled caress toward adjusting a strand of strewn, russet hair clarifies. their stage gets the point across, too-- the dim backlight casting a halo around twitching ears and a fanged smile.
like an angel. a fallen angel, wasn't it? little on the nose, in more ways than one. suppose that'd make yuri his devotee, huh. a rather blasphemous one for being so hard on the guy, all things considered... not that the metaphor really means anything.
when it comes down to it, he is just a man, flaws and all. the warrior doesn't need another pedestal, let alone from his... partner (almost too plain of a word after what they'd been through). dar'khol isn't the perfect little beacon people expect of him. he's a pain in the neck-- rash, self-sacrificing, his own harshest critic. and yet -- yet! -- it's no exaggeration to say he's one of the best things yuri's ever had.
so, for as long as the man wants him near, for as long as the stars allow it, he's not budging. no more letting mistakes get in the way of something good while it's still theirs; if there's one thing he hopes this light show's proven, it's that.
"...come on," after what seems like an eternity, he tears himself away from his own reverence and pivots, tugging him toward the exit. toward home. their home. "i bet quiche is crying up a storm by now. let's not keep 'em waiting, yeah?"
Somewhere from his pocket, Cecil pulls out a measuring tape and starts checking Yuri's measurements—checking instead of marking, because he can more or less guess them by eye from his experience.
❛ Non, I found this pastime on my own. ❜
❛ It was for practicing precision and details. We are encouraged to get creative, so as to inspire...les passions, for our work later down the line. ❜
He smiles brightly at his own insinuations, then bends down to measure Yuri's leg.
❛ It also makes one popular with the noble ladies. They would not ask me to sew them those things, but I've gifted them dresses often enough. ❜
"...uh huh," yuri's only half-listening as he watches cecil move on to his leg. the swordsman may not know a needle from a pushpin, but he can recognize talent. "for a side hustle, i'll admit... you sure know how to make it look impressive."
a genuine compliment! isn't that nice? fleeting, also.
"that's your type?" judgment with a tut. "well, if you say so. the few nobles who hadn't deemed my sad, penniless existence a turn-off weren't exactly interested in courtship, i'll tell you that much. not that i can blame 'em with the sorts of partners they had waiting back home, gifts or no."
spoken as simple, cynical fact. one hardly worth mentioning, at that.
he pokes cecil with his boot, "it's not just noblewomen, though. my lowly boyfriend likes pretty fabrics as much as the next lady-in-waiting. open your mind, romeo."
DUTY COMMENCED: It Ain’t A Fantasy Without A Dragon
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to help you kill it! I just wanted to see if I could talk to it, first!" Probably not the best move, considering that her 'negotiations' just got the dragon's attention on them. Oops. Tossing a cinnamon heart his way, she slides out of range of another of the beast's candy attacks.
"Don't you have a shield or something?! These healing spells only do so much!"
"ha! are you kidding? i couldn't have ditched the dead weight sooner!" (he can use a shield, but that's on a need-to-know basis). "and i don't wanna hear any complaints, doc. way to assign your-- crap, look out!"
he leaps, a sharp warning of a slice delivered to the dragon's sweeping tail (hardly makes a dent, though). they're gonna be dead weight at this rate; doesn't help that lilli's low-magic spells are kinda pathetic. like sticking bandaids on a shark bite.
eyes flitting quickly between the dragon's big, ugly, rearing head and ensuring his companion hasn't been neglecting her own wounds, he sighs, "forget about me. you have strength, yeah? just whack it with your glorified toothpick!"
for a brief moment, panic settles in where fury should be nestled. widened eyes meeting the hands latched around his weapon while his own squeeze tighter. there's a clear question spoken in dar'khol's expression, a question to which he already knew the answer. if dar'khol wasn't weighed down by his own guilt, if he took this seriously like any other confrontation, he'd be adding a whole new meaning to his title as a worldcleaver.
but yuri wouldn't do that.
he was direct and reckless, almost as much as the miqo'te himself, but he wasn't stupid. a stunt like that wasn't made without some thought put into it -- without some level of trust, mostly.
"no, that's not -- godsdammit -- i'm not goin' out lookin' for all of this on a whim!" but he's certainly not denying it when it finds him. which is part of the problem, and he knows it.
"--mngh."
there's a visible flinch with the following correction, his grip faltering as ferocity's weight shifts, allowing the blade to meet the floor with little ( no ) resistance. not like his heart was in it to wield the damn thing proper, anyway, try as he might. no holding out, yet that's all he was doing. what he should have been doing elsewhere.
instead of following that guilty pleasure he wishes he could deny.
the cliffhanger in yuri's words pulls in dar's attention, an expectant stare sitting beneath the return of flattened ears. he's waiting to hear the rest, wanting more as if the implications woven into that break wasn't clear enough. he had every opportunity to continue avoiding him, to let everything fizzle out and fade away. wouldn't have to put up with any of it.
not dar's poor communication, his insatiable battle lust, and certainly not these near-fatal habits he so foolishly indulged in. nothing was kept a secret, left to be discovered -- he was an open fucking book, for hydaelyn's sake! yet, despite it all... yuri was still here. still caring, trying.
his chest feels tight the same moment his partner's fist collides with it, the impact softer than expected. there's no push back like before, though he almost wishes there was. would be a convenient means of hiding the faint tremble in his lip before he's biting it back.
and yet, here they are.
those words held more weight than he wished to admit. as though an obvious statement he'd become blind to under his own guilt-ridden layers. focusing on the consequences that followed, ignoring a glaring truth that should nullify most of those worries.
they wouldn't be here if there wasn't something worth fighting for, huh? if there wasn't something that needed to be said in a way dar could better understand; to have it stick more than just a few words. this was suppose to be a conversation, and he's been doing a piss poor job at keeping up with that. hasn't been listening all that well, either. until now.
weight shifts as dar decides to straighten, watching on as second stars' retrieved before dual-toned eyes settle on a hardened gaze. his own fails to reflect that same sternness, a softness overtaking it, instead. yuri was right, he couldn't leave him out of this one. shouldn't be leaving him out of any. dar wants to promise that he won't exclude him again, but look how far their past promises have taken them?
no, there wouldn't be a voiced promise. not this time. the proof would be in his efforts going forward, and he can only hope -- no, he'd make certain it was enough!
after a prolonged beat of silence, dar'khol takes in a breath. air expelled heavily as ferocity is, once more, lifted. only, he doesn't ready it, doesn't rest it upon his shoulder. instead, its swung behind him, handle clipping into place on its holster. from there, his shoulders roll, head stretched to the side until his neck offers a pop.
"it takes two to uphold a conversation, and it takes two for a satisfyin' tango... i've been a pretty shite half on both ends." color flutters to life beneath a steadying step, a breath of life offered into a tucked away tail. orange flashes beneath him, bleeding through his half of the room, a red quick to follow. vibrant, strong, determined.
"ya wanted a dance," fingers crack beneath a pressing palm, notes that played with his movements scaling higher, edging away from their previous, deep bass. "i should be the last damn person to go denyin' ya that. together, then, as we should've been!"
one hop, a bounce, and the miqo'te was springing forward. newfound resolve ebbing into every step, conducting a new melody that followed his every step. there's holes left in the rhythm played, waiting for a clash to fill them in -- that need for more sounding in one, trembling note as the distance between shortened. in one, quick motion dar's spinning the moment his foot hits the floor, other leg drawn up to guide his spiral and kick.
it's as though the flush of color seeps into the swordsman himself; his beating heart skipping in recognition of the dar'khol he's always known. if the lights are supposed to represent their souls, this is how he would've imagined his partner's-- an eyesore of a warm wavelength, crackling ablaze, dazzling and alive.
it somehow both contrasts and complements the warrior's softness moments prior. a look that brought upon a faint magenta-tinted scarlet from yuri's side of the ballroom (one he'll no doubt fail to pass off as battle-ready determination later if asked, rather than the obvious emotion behind it).
yuri's huff is airy, just shy of tentative, "there's the hotheaded bastard i know and love. i was starting to think he'd turned tail on me for good," but he would've kept on pushing, regardless. it's true that he'd given up on a lot in life (almost gave up on the possibility of them once), squashed his desires plenty, but not this time.
dar's a partner worth fighting for. fighting with. they're both men who prove far more with actions than words, after all, and this is it. this is yuri proving he'll run after him, too, even at his worst-- screw-up after screw-up, he'll be there, just as dar's done for him.
and, selfish as it sounds, maybe a small, regrettable part of his anger did stem from missing out, then; to not be the one meeting his blade after they'd grown distant, hesitant to cause the other more pain... he was pent up. envious.
(...they really are a couple of idiots, through and through).
well! either way, he's not gonna give his partner a free hit! with a fluidity to his own motions, second star's flicked high into the air as the swordsman drops low amidst the incoming swing, extending a leg and sweeping it across dar's ankle.
'course, he's still getting that boot to the head. he braces himself on shimmering tile, reaching for the nasty bump-in-the-making with a wince. the synchronized impact brought a surge of drum beats to their score, too, he realizes, his chest (and aches) bumping in time with the spirited percussion.
huh. he can hardly believe it. it's starting to sound like actual music.
the blade returns to an outstretched arm, momentum carried to plunge its tip into the space above dar's shoulder. "might wanna ditch the axe for this number, then," he taunts, indulging in the spark of adrenaline; his half-lean against the weapon only adding to the towering confidence, both hands on the hilt as the last of his kick-induced dizziness fades. "been a while since we've gone at it, but i'm sure i'll have you flat on your ass again before long. muscle memory and all that."
they always fall back into place, don't they? it's so easy with him, to face trial after trial and come out the other side with hardened resolve-- with yet another reason to live, together, to the fullest. as one. the banter alone adds a sprightly layer to their orchestra, streaks of purple joining the reds caressing dar's features.
yuri blows a curtain of bangs from his eyes, head cocked, smile lopsided, "sheesh, you're not just gonna keep letting me take the lead, though, are you? you know i like my dances with a little pushback."
