" Huh? But— " Any thoughts she might've had over that comment (adorable, really?) are put on indefinite hold. The furious sounds do not escape her notice, either. Nor does the distinct sound of gunfire. Oh, fuck.
Miya immediately yanks him backwards and out of direct fire. The debris was good for something, at least. " Are you crazy?! We're not taking the 'human shield' approach! "
That being said, they couldn't wait behind this wall forever. If the two of them could get close, the fight would be over in seconds (he was frankly terrifying), but the narrow opening was problematic. Just their luck that there were so many waiting on the other side.
"Bah--I'm hardly in the mood to wait," Ren shot back once Miya released his arm, seeing no reason to be rough with her. In a burst of flame did Shard Sword manifest, glowering in the direction of the gunmen that seemed eager to cut them both down.
Miya wasn't as indestructible as him, but wasn't it considered polite to clear a safe path for a lady? That he thought with a sarcastic, Mara-tinged grin.
Like a demon borne of the abyss, Ren cut down the gunmen with superfluous ease, their bullets pocking his flesh with bloody craters that exited in spectacular, gruesome blooms through his back. What a pain; he'd have to get his coat mended and laundered, again. At the very least, he was clearing a path hastily enough, however rushed it all was.
@houyin : 14. for jingliu!
014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks .
Scene Prompts
Starskiff Haven isn't a spot one would usually consider peaceful what with the usual buzz of automation, workers hustling from one point to another, alarms blaring. But at night, it's not bad. Everything falls to near silence, machinery cooling, the airways much less populated. Baiheng likes this place during the day but Jingliu finds the nightlife of it more appealing.
It's one of her sleepless spots, places to walk in the late hours where she's unlikely to be disturbed. Sitting atop a number of storage crates, she can hear measured footsteps behind her. Her shoulders tense minutely before she recognizes the beat.
"If you are trying to approach me without alerting me," she muses aloud, glancing over her shoulder in Yingxing's direction. "I'm afraid you are several centuries too late."
"Hah, of course. You Cloud Knights and your keen senses, I swear..." Yingxing sighed a touch dramatically, brushing aside a few errant strands of silvery hair. He really was getting up there in age, wasn't he? He wouldn't mind it so much if anyone could see the telltale signs of age a million miles away. His compatriots weren't exactly old in all their exalted immortality...
He probably should've expected this. The Sky-Faring Commission had called on him to repair a faulty conveyor line in Stargazer Navalia, and while he and his trusty fleet of Aurumatons had completed the job easily, he hadn't realized how late the hour had become.
"Sword Champion, I mean, but you won't find that offensive, will you? Ah, anyways--keep it from Dan Feng, will you? He nags me enough as it is about my health."
IT GNAWED AT HIM, BUT HE DID NOT DARE VOICE IT DIRECTLY. evading the point all together, dancing around in a circle, never letting even one toe cross the line in an effort to skirt around with a fool's own brand of flair ⸻ all part of the act. there's no real obligation to defend the tavern when all the walls fall apart, exposing the less than cohesive nonsense to those that might want to smite joy. it was less about this realm & more about how he perceived elation. why it worried him so that he struggled to elicit a curve of lips devoid of malice.
regardless of how his blue brows sit, sampo managed a sly smile. ❝ what do you take me for ? sampo koski has never been in the business of wasting time with such small waves. ❞ never truly satisfied by a brief prank, only working in such frivolities if it amounted to some grand plan that only sat in the back of his mind. rarely was he taken seriously, his calculating mind working behind the mask.
had ren been playing along ?
ever the actor till the script runs its course, the con artist pushed on. he gave a small shrug. ❝ if it weren't me sitting here with you, you'd be visited by much worse. ❞ arms folded against his chest, emerald hues scanning the nearby crowd. ❝ they don't care about much other than getting a laugh even if you aren't laughing. oh ... is that what is it ? not impressed by my company that you're looking to get whisked away by some other beautiful fellow ? ❞ he turned his face enough to lift a suggestive brow.
Yes, he supposed that willingly coming into the Tavern, no matter how well it worked out for covert purposes, meant that he should've expected every degree of intrusiveness and then some from its typical patrons. For once, Ren wasn't feeling halfway as annoyed by their antics as he usually was, and the Fools inside were unusually sane that evening. Of course, perhaps it was because this was only one part of the Tavern; considering how far back it went meant that there could be rabblerousing in some other segment he wouldn't be remotely aware. For all intents and purposes, in coming into the Fools' domain, he should've expected as much. It was because of Silver Wolf that they'd chosen this place to lie low in, what with her being an Emanator.
"So, if you're speaking for 'Sampo Koski', then who are you supposed to be?" What an odd tendency. Did becoming a Masked Fool sever one's connection to their identity to such a degree? Well... he was one to talk, but he never referred to himself in the third person. There was an enormous gulf between depersonalization with a past self and the adoption of a new one, not creating such an extreme gulf. Unless he was simply overthinking it, and the Elation merely scrambled this man's head to an egregious degree.
Now, that earned a genuine guffaw from the swordsman. "Your brazenness really has no limit or compare, does it? Hmph, aside from the annoying brat with the pigtails, maybe," Ren scoffed, impressed more by the audacity to flirt with a renowned criminal like him, at least. He doubted that his identity was entirely lost on the Tavern's occupants, especially by now. "Fine. If you want to play this charade so badly, get us some drinks. Thalian Toxi-flame. If it's not literally a poison, I don't want it." Hardly an unreasonable demand, as he heard they served The Pinkest Collision, but the palette wasn't to his tastes.
the dragon’s reply was a distant hum. body still strung out and loose, when he turned back to look at ren it was with a slow blink, the happy trusting kind, even if dan heng’s neutral face didn’t betray such a thought. he let out a rare amused noise, puffing petrichor clouds along with it.
“ only a couple of years ago you would have been the one trying to run me over, wouldn’t you ? ” maybe he’s still too blissed out to fathom the level of morbidity in the sentence. he wondered if this was anything like what the happiness surgery felt like. might as well enjoy not focusing on their impending battles for a little while.
To say it was strange to see Dan Heng so at-ease around him would be an understatement. In a relationship defined by its mutual antagonism, for the Nameless to be anything but felt like something to be wary of. Unfamiliar ground between two such old and contestable enemies.
Ren snorted at Dan Heng's lackadaisical comparison. "Cars are far too impersonal for our debt. A sword is more suitable." Yet, a wily thought crossed the swordsman's mind as a quick, wolfish grin split his features. "What's wrong? Was our training session too rough? You seem more sluggish than usual."
To be grouped with the rest would never fail to rustle him, just a fair amount. For as much as there was a reason he found himself straying away from World's End, the pit of loneliness that threatened to fester within was burdensome enough that he always came crawling back. That incessant need to fill the void, to overtake the threat of nothingness with empty lies && laughter, ultimately distractions that would seek to convince a fool that they are the pinnacle of humanity in the universe.
A huff of laughter parted his lips, intending to keep the guise of amusement. ❝ That scared of what little old me might get up to ? Come now, I would never act without reason. ❞ Though for a deceitful tongue to say that with the perpetually curled lips of his mask was demanding that his lie be believed. Like their own Aeon, any Masked Fool acted according to their own fleeting impulses, eager for chaos && cheap laughs.
❝ You don't trust me && I don't trust you or the rest of your group. I think that kind of balance only makes sense but it's still sooo unfair when you look at it from a numbers perspective. ❞ Arms crossed over his chest, his gloved hands gripping himself loosely to hold the position. Appearing like he has closed himself off, Sampo was only somewhat uncomfortable with the notion, but as for the personality of Ren here before him ? Ah, there was work to be done.
❝ Would a little bit of whimsy in your life kill you ? Would you like it to ? While I can't deny the excitement that flows through my veins, I can assure you that my intentions are in the best interest of a continuing saga. ❞ && perhaps a bit of bias granted to him by the Laughter THEMSELF, manifesting in his attachment to the Trailblazer.
Having an Emanator of Elation among their ranks could be both a blessing and an irritant; funny, but not that surprising. Silver Wolf chased Elation in her own way, even if the way she did was far more bearable than these wretches. Still, it was more than enough of a shoe through the door, and considering the fact that they needed a place to lay low without the IPC or the security forces crawling up their asses, this was simply one of the better places to do it.
Ren snorted derisively. "No. I'd be more concerned at the potential of a grisly murder unfolding here," he retorted flatly, glancing at the Fool pointedly. Not that he felt particularly homicidal, but if any of these Fools wanted to test their luck with the business end of his blade, he'd be more than happy to indulge. Granted, it wasn't exactly the kind of aberration the Script could afford to sustain, but as a Pathstrider of Finality, rewinding a few hasty seconds could mend any damages.
A sadistic smile lifted his lips. "Ah, let me guess: you're the self-assigned watchdog for the evening. And as the watchdog, you want to make sure the fox in the henhouse doesn't turn this into a killing floor, is that it?" he goaded with gleeful sarcasm, seeming to sense something... off about this man. Frankly, he seemed far too normal. He claimed to be a regular, which meant he was a Fool, not the guest of some luminary like Silver Wolf who got a shoe through the door by virtue of who she was.
"Can it? That would be a relief. There are few things that can," he replied with mock loftiness, though it was more a source of scorn than anything. Before Elio had discovered him as a wild bushman traipsing from place to place, he'd tried far too many methods. As host to Shuhu, that wretch refused to die. And as a consequence, nothing really worked. Even if, now, he had a reason to keep existing... if nothing else. "Well? Go on, kill me with your whimsy, or whatever the hell we're calling it."
Touching Dan Heng's shoulder, the swordsman held Dan Heng back from blatantly walking into traffic. How odd. Normally, he was the alert, sharp one between them, yet since that little... excursion not even an hour ago, well--
"Pay attention. Or, are you trying to gain Wishpower by being flattened by oncoming traffic?"
There was never truly a break in the life of a High Elder. Beside the universal duties familiar to all of them, individuals also chose their own paths that kept them ever busy. For Zhenyi, that meant she was leaving several interesting crafting projects behind as she traveled with Huaiyan and another handful of Zhuming dignitaries, joining the larger group of artisans who - as far as she could tell - all felt as though their time would be better spent in the forge. Learning was important, growing with the growth of technology and not being stuck in the past, and yet, Zhenyi thought this could have all been summarized to her in a convenient leaflet. Alas, showing her face at these events was not about her own interest whatsoever. She was here as the High Elder of the Flamewheel Forge, and she would do her duty without loud complaints as always.
... walking away from the rest of the passengers to find something more interesting to do was not the same as complaining. No one had attempted to stop her, of course. Ardens Regia did not have the need to sneak into places. If anyone tried to bring her back to where she was supposed to be, she would simply tell them that she did not feel so inclined, and they would leave her be. There was nothing to do up there, at the moment. Pleasantries had been exchanged, and she despised small talk.
Turning away from her cursory inspection of the engines, she straightened at the sight of Yingxing, giving a gentle nod of her head in acknowledgement. "General Huaiyan has always been the one to enjoy meaningless conversation, between the two of us. He is more than capable of handling things by himself, until there is important business that will call me back to his side. You feel a similar way, I take it? No politicking for the Luofu's Furnace Master?"
'Your Highness, you can't honestly think I don't want to go, do you? I, a lowly short-lifer whose mind is so very limited compared to long-lived celestials? Surely, I need inspiration before I become a withered, dry husk," Yingxing simpered glibly, the amusement matched only by the genuine excitement he had for the Anima Machina, a consortium of the greatest minds between Pier Point, the Xianzhou Alliance, and Planet Screwllum. It had begun several Amber Eras ago after the ascension of the Mechanical Artistocrat to the Genius Society, an olive branch of transparency and accountability that would seek to mend the wounds caused by the two Machine Wars that had devastated the cosmos long before the Xianzhou Alliance had even come into being. So, they at least had the luxury of being far removed from that conflict, even if it had come to the Aurumatons being lobotomized long before his time...
"Mm, you're right about that. I have no interest in politics. Aren't the ones between the Six Charioteers vicious enough? We meet our quotas, ensure the Cloud Knights have their weapons and Starskiffs, and everything in between. That's as political as I like to be." Unless piloting his beloved mechas counted? Surely, a battlefield could be literal, and their enemies tended to be less interested in political maneuvers than physical, violent ones.
It wouldn't be much longer until they arrived at the glittering metropolis of Pier Point. The venue tended to change often, but what was a constant was the sheer amount of innovation one could see year to year. The variety, the differences between civilizations; some had just learned to invent the wheel, while others were at the pinnacle of genius, altering reality at insane and unthinkable levels. Regardless, Yingxing was excited beyond a doubt, eager to be among like-minded people like themselves.
he really liked to believe he was better than this, than the temptuous pulls of ren’s sultry laughs, above all the petty ways he got on dan heng’s nerves. but the truth of it was he wasn’t, that he repeatedly fell for a trap the dragon knew was there, like the magnetism of their bond was built into their bones ( maybe in some sick way it was. )
so one of their brief tussles ending with a crash into a dark alleyway wasn’t out of the ordinary, nor the way dan heng tore his mouth away from ren’s blood-smeared lips, gunmetal green eyes focused on him even through his heavy panting. the result, no doubt, of hours and hours of goading, teasing, frustrating him. dan heng’s expression remained like that, pinning ren to the brick wall behind him, til his gaze dropped, train guard sliding to his knees.
he’s out of scathing quips or petty retorts, lips used instead to press beneath ren’s navel as hands made quick work of his belts. at least enough to take him out of his pants and into the dragon's mouth with no fanfare or hesitation.
Too often, it felt as though sex was one of the few ways they could speak when words failed them all too often.
Ren didn't resist when his constant badgering of the Nameless earned him exactly what he wanted, eyes clouded by lust before Dan Heng had even pinned him to the wall. Something about the constant teasing, the posturing, revved up his arousal just as much as it did Dan Heng. Seeing the other man so flustered, so riled by the sexual frustration that the swordsman eagerly caused ignited that salacious flame within him. Ren wouldn't describe himself as a man ruled by his lusts, but the connection between them was ineffable. The kind he just didn't have with anyone else, the sort that felt like the rarest metal that only someone of specific skill could temper and hone into a craftable weapon of some kind.
The swordsman chuckled huskily when his back slammed into the wall, Dan Heng's gaze filled with fury as the spearman glowered at him with everything he was worth. Ren's tongue lewdly poked out from his lips and laved at the blood smearing them like a lip gloss, doing so slowly and perversely, unblinking and without breaking eye contact. Hooded eyes goaded him, smugness radiating from him in waves as the airs between them became heated, and Aeons--it was practically torture. The outline of his cock bound within his pants throbbed with arousal, blood pounding so harshly to his nethers that he became dizzy with lust. It was an excruciatingly good sensation, only exacerbated by the way those cool emeralds glared at him, tempestuous waves of desire roiling in those icy depths.
Ren's breath hitched in his throat when Dan Heng finally caved and unzipped his pants for his cock that he chuckled breathlessly when the Vidyadhara drank him down in one go, hand instantly coming to grip Dan Heng's shaggy black hair as the blissful sensation of his wet, hot throat swallowing him down sent waves of sheer ecstasy through him. Ren's back sagged against the wall as arousal weakened his control of his legs, the limbs rendered oozy and uncontrollable as Dan Heng drank him down greedily and deep. And Terminus--it felt so fucking good. The wetness and tightness of his lover's throat spasmed with barely accessed breath, head bobbing as he withdrew and came back for more with dizzying speed. Ren groaned throatily as his hips bucked from the sheer pleasure, cock hot and wet and hard as Dan Heng's saliva coated it in a gleaming sheen.
"Fuck--" he moaned a little too loudly, hips moving as he fucked Dan Heng's throat harshly, hips snapping with each thrust as he chased the climax that came quickly, maintaining that aroused high for much longer than he could usually withstand. Dan Heng's fangs bit into his cock as blood spilled into his throat, becoming a new, coppery lubricant that stained the man's lips like rouge. The Nameless' hands gripped Ren's thighs commandingly, keeping him from fucking his throat when he didn't want it to. Ren sighed, a long exhale that tapered into a rich groan as his minor frustration prickled his scalp like a live wire, only allowed to slide his member at the pace Dan Heng allowed.
He wasn't suffering alone, it seemed. A hazy, lust-addled eye cracked open and one hand dropped from his pelvis, the spearman's pants unzippered as Dan Heng's hand was buried deep, masturbating himself to satisfy his own excruciating arousal.
Bah, what a way to go about this.
Forcefully, Ren shoved Dan Heng's head back and his cock slipped free, tingly with arousal and seconds away from climaxing. Gripping the roots of Dan Heng's hair, he wrenched the Nameless to his feet, shoved one of his pant legs off to expose his sex to the open air, and pinned him to the wall. Gripping the underside of one of Dan Heng's thighs, he shoved his cock in Dan Heng's soaking entrance, stunned by the wetness that heard him swore as he buried his face in Dan Heng's neck from the sheer rapture. Then, he fucked him hard once, twice, until Dan Heng was compelled to hitch his legs around Ren's waist, smearing his tongue against Dan Heng's pounding pulse.
"Hah... your legs make a nice belt, Nameless," he purred sultrily in Dan Heng's ear, biting the shell as his continued to fuck his lover well past the point of coherence in either.
Playing a cashier at Infinity-Eleven, THEY weren't hoping that Ren wouldn't recognize THEM: by now, Ren was so hopelessly and helplessly obsessed with THEM that "Milky" was certain he developed some extra sense just to keep track of THEIR presence. Just, somehow, THEY still hoped that whatever comes out of Ren's mouth - for the fact that it would open was set in stone - wouldn't be packaged into his annoying cocky little curve of a smirk. But it always was and it always reflected in THEIR now instinctively furrowing brows and pouting lips, a judging look ( a final chance to reconsider his words, which Ren never did ), then a slight lean backwards and a dramatic whip of THEIR head to the side topped with a nasal 'Hmph'.
" …… "
What THEY have done in the previous samsara to deserve this man?
"Well, since you have so much free time, "I" might find some use for you." THEY sighed, not gracing Ren with a glance.
Diving behind the counter, "Milky" almost instantaneously emerged in changed clothes - an utterly mundane combination of sweatpants with a matching jacket over a hoodie and a laptop bag across THEIR chest was a look fitting for an IT worker than a universally feared Aeon. Finally freed from the confines of the Infinity-Eleven staff uniform, "Milky's" two perfect triangles of cat ears atop "his" head eagerly stood up and the silky tail swayed in invisible breeze.
THEY materialized by Ren's side, one arm coiling around another's.
Why THEY chose to work such a mundane occupation, even Ren wasn't sure. All the centuries he'd been alive, and he'd never really possessed that compulsion. Maybe he was one to talk; compared to Terminus who would be billions of years old (if in the negatives) by now, Ren was barely a blip in the cosmic stream of time. No matter how unnaturally his lifespan had been prolonged, nothing could compel him to take up some ordinary job to wile away the hours. The burdens of long life were strenuous enough to add a stressful, front-facing job on top of it all. But, considering how old THEY were, he supposed he could understand the curiosity that might arise from such an odd interest. Still, that was THEIR prerogative. He was more interested in what came after, really.
"Oh? My, my, I never took YOU for a romantic. Maybe that's a bit of the Beauty's influence, hm?" Ren purred into the shell of THEIR ear.
Ah, but he could be well-behaved for now. As much as he adored THEIR prickly facade, it really was a bit too public, even for his tastes. Smiling crookedly, he began to lead them through Duomension City's backstreets and alleyways crammed with boutiques and little eateries more common among the true residents of the city that lived past the IPC-fueled, glittering exterior where the tourists rarely ventured. Glancing over at his companion, it was when they came to a small plaza that he stopped, considering the other.
"Well? In the mood for some after-work ramen, maybe?"
" ren ? " he knows that @houyin is nearby, he can sense him, though he is uncertain as to where exactly he is. elio is always on edge whenever he is away from the ship that has become somewhat of a safety net. although he still possesses that adventurous soul, navigating unknown planets has become more difficult since losing his sight.
"Take my arm. There's enough morons bumbling through these streets as it is," Ren remarked laconically as he looped Elio's with his own, his glare enough to keep any passersby at bay. He kept his stride steady and slow, so the seer wouldn't be tripping over some oblivious streamer absorbed into their phone. "Where to? You must have some idea in mind, Elio."
"Screwllum," he would quickly correct at the sound of Your Grace. Such titles were best reserved for those that required it to sate their own fragile ego. He, unlike them, didn't see the need in such casual setting. After all, they weren't overly professional diplomats in this very moment. "While my name might be associated with titles, reputation and presence that could tie my name to such addressing, I prefer a first name basis. I am, after all, merely an intellitron and should not be seen as superior to any others. We are all life, after all."
Spoken in softhearted humor, he would allow himself to escort his guest, passing on some subtle notes to another wandering intellitron that went on with their things. A message to keep an eye out, but to not treat the guest as something threatening. Many guests had come to planet Screwllum, and the majority of them had learned that there was nothing to fear – as long as they behaved and followed protocol, as one would expect. Screwllumites, after all, lived a peaceful life, one where they didn't quite fear the judgement passed on by species that had no better understanding of life than to scowl at it.
"Indeed," Screwllum nodded there he walked alongside the other, a slow walk taking the two of them through various paths. "Of course, were I to discuss every little detail with you, I am afraid we might run out of hours in the day – I cannot say that I am fully immersed in Elio's position in the universe, but I dare assume that the path of a stellaron hunter can be quite busy, should destiny's gaze fall in the correct angle."
He couldn't quite imagine it, merely calculate the potential outcome, encounters and situations that those of such nature encountered. After all, the stories reached widely throughout the cosmos.
To think someone who seemed so mannered could stirr up so much.
All the same, Screwllum guided his company into his own private quarters, passing structures and design that seemed to hold an influence from many corners of the world. There would be floral pattern engraced on metallic plates, fabric and wood integrated in various walls and furniture, a mismatched combination of old and new. Xianzhou and Belobog alike, all on par with one another and melting into a hot pot that Screwllum had come to make into his home, so to speak. Rooms were in abundance, but he did as he had suggested and brought Blade to a tea room. Less formal than most, with two chairs awaiting with a small table and a shut window.
"Please," he'd insist there he held the door open for the other, leaning forwards in a half-bow. "Take a seat, and tell me what sort of tea you prefer. It will arrive shortly. after your precision."
To say that he was slightly befuddled by Screwllum's reception was a bit of an understatement. He still remembered those days of the Amica Machina when he'd looked a little younger than he did now, still mortal and with amethyst eyes that shone with genuine wonder, searching for the Mechanical Aristocrat's visage from afar and thinking he'd never get any closer than that. And why would he have thought otherwise? No matter how talented he was perceived, no matter how deserving he was of the title "Hundred-Forged', and no matter how famous he would be considered within the Alliance, the then-Yingxing had no doubts that trillions of people just as talented if not more so were a dime of a dozen within the vast, vast cosmos. As common as the stars in the sky.
Compared to a member of the Genius Society, he was just another face in the crowd. And he hadn't minded it; the only time he was truly boastful was around those irritating celestials who threw their immortality around like trump cards rendered cheap by how common they were. More so when one considered the historical, incredible honor Screwllum had been granted as an Intellitron accepted among the ranks of the Wisdomwalker, as the fulcrum that stood between him and the annihilation of inorganic lifeforms like him. Not that Ren needed the lecture, of course...
"I understand your sentiments, but I'd rather not give anyone fodder to try and dispatch me. At least in public," Ren replied dubiously, flashing the aristocrat a wry look. At they very least, he was being treated like a guest, but the mention of having some foodstuffs that an organic lifeform could consume was a little surprising. Organics were such a rarity on this planet that during Amica Machina, most of them were dependent on Synthesizers for sustenance. Not that he was against it, but it was simply surprising. Even more so when one considered who they both were and the extenuating circumstances between both of their factions.
"I suppose these leads me to another question," he continued with a mildly fatigued sigh. "Why the cordiality? Even if we can set aside our differences, I have one of the highest bounties in the cosmos. That's not exactly conducive to your own reputation, or any eyes that may be on this place. Like the IPC, for one." It was a reasonable enough of a suspicion. Ren glanced warily at an Intellitron who brought the promised tea, the tea spout fumigating with a rich, sweet scent obviously confirming that it was indeed tea. Receiving a porcelain cup that looked clumsy in his hands, the swordsman took a tentative sip. Sweet and florid, as he'd predicted.
"I'm sure even your logic can understand my doubts."
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