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@kgetsu
#KGETSU, affiliated kagetsu of fe: engage, written by soji (she/her, 25, EST)
"You always have time for some trivial obsession! Never for your friend! How are we supposed to bond?!" ( ZELKOV: B support )
LINKS. dossier. writer. stats. more details below.
[ sling ] sender slings an arm around receiver's shoulder
"Kagetsu!" Laslow calls with a friendly smile. "Just the man I've been looking for!"
He casually tosses an arm across Kagetsu's shoulders, as if they're the closest of friends. "I hear you're quite the swordsman! Would you consider helping me for my next lecture? I promised the kids I'd give them a sparring demonstration, but my partner came down with a nasty case of food sickness."
Laslow crinkles his nose at the thought. "I know it's short notice, but is tomorrow afternoon acceptable? Next time you want a drink, it's on me!"
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 sling — sender slings an arm around receiver's shoulder
In the world of quick friendships, Kagetsu of Elusia is a figure undeniably premier. Habitual in his efforts to spark bonds and his eager assessments in judging them as such. In that way, he does not bat an eye as a lesser known individual approaches and assumes familiarity with his daring hold. More rather, he is ecstatic. Perhaps they are, to the onlooking eye, even birds of a feather.
“Oh, yes! You have come to the right person-place. If it is sword skills you seek, I am in abundance!” Stirred to excitability beneath the hanging arm and for more than one reason, his sparkling eyes turn upon the man he has studied to be Laslow. Studied, for Kagetsu knows of all public practitioners of the sword within a many-mile radius. “There is no such thing as short notice when it comes to sparring! Tomorrow shall do. I will be delighted to be the substitute for your partner.”
Easy as that. . .seemingly.
Amenable as this exchange, however, there is a secondary element - a hidden caveat that suggests this Laslow may have bitten off more than he can chew. The Onigiri Samurai brightens, with happiness as much as with sunny omen.
“Your offer is kind, Laslow, but I fear a drink will not satisfy me. If you are agreeable, let the currency be a wondrous crossing of our swords outside of the classroom. We will clash for dominance and partake in the heated bonds of two warriors!”
[ check ] sender checks receiver's temperature by placing the back of their hand against receiver's forehead, trying to see if they're sick
"Stop squirming." Mitama has lost count of how many times she has given that order or a similar one to her latest unwilling patient. Every time she met a fool more eager to return to the training grounds than sit and rest, she questions if she truly is the only one around with any sense at all.
She does not need to rest her hand against his forehead long to tell that it is warmer than it should be. With a sigh, she places her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back down into the bed again. Something made much easier precisely because he is sick like she keeps explaining to him.
"You realize the sooner you stop resisting the obvious, the sooner you will be able to return to running around like you so badly want to?" She shakes her head as she turns to prepare the medicine. "And now, you cannot leave right after drinking this either. Rest."
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 check — sender checks receiver's temperature by placing the back of their hand against receiver's forehead, trying to see if they're sick
Unstoppable patient meet immovable healer. Kagetsu shows his displeasure colorfully with a fly of words and fists that do naught but to strike thin air. His tantrum, at least to him, is most justified; there are many duels to be fought, countless strong foes upon which to test his mettle, and none that might be accomplished with the unfair delegation to a cot. As he is, languishing in torpor, the samurai will tarnish his proud name and his motivations alongside. Unacceptable! Indolent! Unthinkable!
“No, this cannot stand! This ish a problem! A berry big problem!”
Flushed-pink face on outside, congested nose and morphed syllables on inside; a humorous display were it not for Kagetsu’s total state of seriousness on the matter. As many as his signs of dislike for these disastrous circumstances, his symptoms number equally plenty. Those that might curb him to a state of weakness as he is pushed down without the means to rise.
He flails much like a flipped turtle attempting to right itself. Once, twice, thrice, to little avail. Then he settles begrudgingly, albeit no less defiantly.
“You are a most formidable opponent, Mitama. You wield tools of wicked reason. But most importantly, strange and bitter tonics.” It has not escaped him that the other is preparing his medicine with unbreakable attention. Medicine, however, is only a front - the pungent fetor of its herbal ingredients wafts through the air and torments the nose. To survive is ever to trust one’s senses and Kagetsu has never doubted his. Combined with his helplessness as a beached hostage unable to flee, perhaps his conclusion is only natural.
He swallows a great big breath in preparation for release and then lets it all loose: “I AM BEING HELD IN CAPTIVITY! IN TIME I SHALL BE FED POISON! HELP! HELPPPPP!” Conclusion natural and maybe just a little dramatic.
[ feed ] "hey! want a piece?" not of him, of course. not now, at least. this fighter's now a lover, thanks to the delectable spread in the dining hall. an eye-catching array of meats swimming in decadent sauces is enough to bring a wide grin to shiro's face as he waves a chicken leg in the other man's direction. "better act fast," he calls out jovially, "'cause if you don't, this plate's gonna be history!"
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 feed — sender offers a forkful of food out to receiver, helping them eat
No blade no matter how legendary may avert rust without oil. A swordsman, meanwhile, cannot swing that very blade on an empty stomach. Kagetsu knows of these intertwined threads of logic as he might the very back of his hand. It is only natural to enter into his various ventures on a fulsome belly for where else might his strength arise! How else might his arm swing to the greatest extent of ability! He is dedicated to his craft and ergo to the needs of his fleshly vessel.
Said dedication leads him to the dining hall at the punctual mark of noon. No sooner, no later. Today, it is here that he finds someone equally—seemingly—as intertwined with their mission to the naked eye. The young man before him possesses a robust build; his choice of feasting speaks all the more to his means and intentions. It is only expected - surely, such a voracious lover of meats does so to fuel the great demands of development!
"A piece?" Kagetsu echoes with wonder struck expression. That gusto. That face stained with sauces at the corners of each grinning mouth. Here is a kindred soul, as buried in his cuts of meat as Kagetsu in his everyday meals of rice and side dishes. More importantly, he is virtuous! "You are generous to offer a slice of your own fortune in this hall of dining, and to a stranger, no less! The best cuts of meat are without a doubt competitive."
Kagetsu, on that note, is decided.
"I like you! Yes, I do!"
Seemingly out of nowhere the samurai manifests a triangular piece of onigiri and places it on the other's plate. Warmed and shaped ever so slightly by the cramped storage within his hakama sleeve, still it is otherwise intact without a single grain of sticky rice fallen away from the whole. Testament to its maker's talent. Or eccentricity. "I have packed my own lunch and must decline. Still, it is not good to eat only meat! Soothe your palate from the sea of grease with this. I sense somehow that you will delight in onigiri."
[ collar ] sender smooths out receiver's collar
"There."
Gloved fingers fold and smooth out the collar of Kagetsu's dress shirt, only to still as Diamant's gaze dips down to the first button, left undone.
The open flap of his shirt reveals a glimpse of fair skin and collarbone; Diamant thinks to button it up, but soon reconsiders.
"...No. The tie—it wouldn't suit you."
Kagetsu was unburdened and carefree. No matter how formal the dress code was meant to be, Diamant couldn't help but think he'd look... unnatural, more importantly uncomfortable, with a tie strangling his neck.
He chuckles, clapping the other man on both his shoulders. "Knowing you, you'll probably get into some situation at this party, so why bother fixing you up just to have all that work undone, anyway?"
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 collar — sender smooths out receiver's collar
"Oh! That feels ticklish, hehe."
The shorter man squirms, not merely at the behest of strong fingers smoothing here and adjusting there, but with restless energy, akin to a child unable to sit still in one place for over long. His efforts in doing so are, retrospectively, rather admirable considering the personality in question.
Kagetsu does not like to stay still, but there are merits to doing so that register even to such a mind filled with dislike. After all, were it not for this stillness, this halt of all busy and exuberant behavior, there would be no room for Diamant to parse him at leisure. An attendant and much needed source of succor in the realm of fashion, for Kagetsu also does not care for appearances. Seeking only for what is comfortable. Never for what is formal or starchy or deathly uncomfortable. So far; there has been reason to believe that Diamant resides at the same line of thought.
There is his invisible nod of approval as the other announces Kagetsu's unsuitability with a tie. A sullen pout, however, forms at the singular idea he disagrees with: "Situation? I do not know what you mean! I am behaving always and always." If behaving should qualify as running responsible for the majority of noise complaints at their shared functions. If behaving should account for befriending many strangers at the club and inviting them to join their table unbidden. If behaving should amount to doing pushups at midnight in Zelkov's quiet artisan flat, or—
(the list yawns on.)
He quiets, made thoughtful with a look that assesses Diamant for once. Head to toe, suave red to broad clothed chest. Unseen, sinewy arms. ". . .Unless you are volunteering to be the situation that should undo me."
A heartbeat, a long and planetary silence, then the explosion of starry laughter.
"Hahaha! I would not be adverse to the idea. There is no bad time to 'hit the gym', or so they say." Is it not time for Kagetsu to prove Diamant's own succor? He relinquishes his hold on the topic with the smack of hands upon his own hips. Merry guffawing to continue. "Let me know if you wish to exercise. Party or not, we can do our routines together!"
PROMPTS FOR COMFORTABLE INTIMACY * adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt
[ settle ] sender sits on receiver's lap and gets comfortable
[ sling ] sender slings an arm around receiver's shoulder
[ pinch ] sender affectionately pinches receiver's cheek
[ ruffle ] sender ruffles receiver's hair
[ recline ] sender joins receiver on their chair and snuggles against them
[ hand ] sender takes receiver's hand while driving
[ knee ] sender lays a hand on receiver's leg while driving
[ clean ] sender reaches up to wipe something off receiver's face
[ tie ] sender adjusts receiver's tie
[ collar ] sender smooths out receiver's collar
[ tickle ] sender starts tickling receiver
[ piggyback ] sender gives receiver a piggyback ride
[ pick up ] sender scoops receiver up into their arms and holds them as they walk
[ guide ] sender places a hand on receiver's hip and guides them through a crowded room
[ smudge ] sender cleans lipstick off receiver's face
[ gun ] in the midst of a stand-off, sender reaches over and gently guides receiver's gun down, making them lower it
[ behind ] sender comes up to receiver from behind and wraps their arms around their waist
[ nuzzle ] sender leans in and nuzzles their face into receiver's neck
[ relax ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder while they talk
[ arms ] sender hooks their arm with receiver's as they walk
[ itch ] sender assists receiver with an itch they can't reach
[ catch ] receiver starts to fall, so sender reaches out and catches them
[ calm down ] sender pets receiver's hair and tries to soothe them after a scary situation
[ check ] sender checks receiver's temperature by placing the back of their hand against receiver's forehead, trying to see if they're sick
[ tuck ] sender tucks receiver into bed
[ feed ] sender offers a forkful of food out to receiver, helping them eat
[ undress ] sender helps receiver undress
[ shoes ] sender helps receiver put on their shoes
[ intent ] sender leans their forehead against receiver's
[ bathe ] sender helps receiver wash themselves in a bath
[ shower ] sender helps receiver wash themselves in a shower
[ assist ] sender finds receiver has fallen down, so they rush to their aid and help them stand again
[ bed ] sender helps receiver into bed
[ greet ] sender greets receiver with quick kisses to each of their cheeks
[ high five ] sender gives receiver a congratulatory high five
[ makeup ] sender helps receiver apply makeup
[ injury ] sender cleans receiver's wound and patches it up
[ seek ] sender reaches for receiver's hand and laces their fingers
[ surprise ] sender sneaks up behind receiver and places their hands over their eyes, wanting them to guess who it is
[ walk ] sender helps receiver walk by staying by their side and holding onto them
translator's note: keikaku means plan
closet mini || cont. from -> 🚪
Kagetsu reacts to Zelkov's passion with a similar intensity. Zelkov responds with a similar coherence, too. This is almost overwhelming, how neither man backs down from the challenge, in fighting, in persistence, in… whatever this is.
Zelkov is not thinking of that. He doesn't think of much at all as Kagetsu's firm grip squeezes his ass. If he had the cognizance, he may have tried to stifle the gasp and moan that the action draws from him.
His own hands grasp as tightly, if not tighter, at Kagetsu's back, trying to bring him as close as possible, as if such a thing is feasible with their tongues already lapping at the other's throats. He pushes, he pulls, as does Kagetsu, and he leans his - partner - into the door behind him heavily.
There is a click.
At once, the passionate display gives way as the two men tumble out of the door, one forwards, one backwards. Their time is up; the door relents, and Zelkov finds himself on top of Kagetsu and very aware of what they'd just been doing.
In the tumble, their lips fell apart, and it feels almost as though a blindfold has been lifted from Zelkov's eyes. He hadn't realized - he hadn't thought - he hadn't thought.
He exhales in some mirthful, small laugh, a rather silly smile threatening to tug his mouth wider. He meets Kagetsu's gaze for but a moment before finally attempting to untangle himself from the other. Given that chance, he'd help Kagetsu back to his feet before inspecting his outfit for any signs of that - yes, it was steamy - encounter.
“I expect you are not satisfied,” he tells Kagetsu, “but I believe we must return to the party… for now.”
The implication of his word is left purposely vague, but Zelkov is still smiling, however slight, as it is said. Whatever Kagetsu reads from it, he's sure he will never know.
Oooh. Oh yeah, that's the spot. All the sentiments that Kagetsu cannot physically say, lips judged interchangeable with another's, are instead conveyed across a menagerie of unspoken thoughts.
Oooh~ Zelkov's posterior is an intriguing mass of warmth and texture in the swordsman's hold, the fingers of which cannot help but to compress and test the firm flesh. A fair observer may relate the eager manner of touch to groping, but Kagetsu does so without appetite or even any particular awareness over his own actions. As one might absentmindedly toy with a frayed piece of tassel or run their finger along the smooth edge of a blade, for their sensory delights and innate curiosities alone. Mankind's inquisitive nature is an insatiable force, to say nothing of Kagetsu's, and Zelkov's robust buttocks are strangely addicting to squeeze.
Oh yeah, that's the spot~ for if there is action below, so too is there action above. Kagetsu and Zelkov, tide and rock, entangle so closely that it is difficult to say whose body belongs to whose, lines blurred yet with sensations oh so distinct. Every inch and mile of mouth explored, the remotest of corners mapped by a pioneering tongue, the samurai makes a noise of some indistinguishable quality within his throat. Perhaps he is attempting to say something. Perhaps he is merely emoting his approval for the other man's enthusiasm, so equally matched by his own.
Whatever the case, there is no more time to consider the answer.
"Oof!" The door behind them gives and he tumbles in a graceless splay of limbs onto the floor. He finds himself not only grounded, but pinned beneath Zelkov, and the silence proceeding their most recent moment of passion is deafening, however brief. A second passes with equivalence to eternity. Then another. Only his friend's sudden smile is a return to normalcy.
Mirroring, Kagetsu takes his hand with a wide grin that threatens to split his face and rises to his feet with a noticeably happy bounce. "Now you are putting words in my mouth, Zelkov! I am satisfied in all ways, for I believe I have accomplished what I have set out to do. We are closer for these soulful minutes spent together attached at both hip and lip, are we not?"
Kagetsu's pride in this is unmistakable, and perhaps even mysterious. A clear topic of study but that is for another time. The remainder of the party awaits.
— FIN.
✶ — › 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐍' ‹ — ✶
MISSION BOARD: RESTORATION ✧˚ · . SWORD +1
There wasn't time for much more than a gasp when the gallant figure came striding in, placing himself before the merchant without hesitation. Morgan tried his best to hide the shock spreading across his features, closing his coin purse as quickly as he had taken it out. While the lad was entirely unfamiliar, he recognized this as something he had seen Severa do several times on her shopping expeditions. This was haggling. Coming here with the intention to help, Morgan had never considered going that route with the merchants, but it would certainly spare the royal fund. Sorry, Chrom.
"Uh— that's right. He's helping me conduct some business for the church today." The tactician stood straight this time, putting on his most convincing stern tone. He wasn't lying, per se. The man had shown up out of the blue, but he was certainly helping. His words only confirmed Morgan's suspicions. This sword was not nearly worth the price it was being sold at. Hard times were upon Fódlan, but that was no excuse for trying to swindle others.
"You heard him, good sir. We should... ‘reach a lovely bond’ and discuss how we might work out a deal for your merchandise." Morgan spoke in a lofty tone, one quite unlike his usual. It even sounded odd to his own ears, but it was fun, almost like playing a different character. He took cues from the new friend at his side to make the performance more convincing.
"Friends buy in bulk, no?" This time, the lad turned to his new partner, looking to see if that was in fact the right thing to say. He had heard Severa use that phrase for dresses, but were swords different?
The man at the counter stilled for a moment, the color draining from his face at the eccentric performance being put on before him. A grizzled sigh escaped his chapped lips as he mourned the loss of his easy sale. Nothing was easy here. “Fine, kid. What kinda deal ‘re we talkin’ about here? 500 gold is as low as I can go for this beaut, understood? No matter what your friend there says… This is fine craftsmanship, even if it is iron…”
This boy is a quick one! Head a-bob, Kagetsu all but glows with approval as the student continues the given momentum. Friends are stronger together, as everyone knows, and as Kagetsu knows even better! That is to say, he already considers this young man a fine companion for the day's ventures - or, in this case, the day's battlefield. Now: the finishing blow! A sudden slam of his palm down upon the counter brings the conversation to higher stakes; in mind's eye the decisive swing of a mighty blade, somewhere amidst reality, a fierce gust of wind with indeterminable source. As if the Eastern Dragons themselves have come to lend the samurai a helping hand.
"No, no, no, five hundred is still TOO high!"
There is gaping. In the manner of all decisive counterattacks, there shall always be surprise, one party placed at clear disadvantage, another riding the tempo of victory, and it is clear which side is which. The shopkeeper struggles to let out his words as Kagetsu's burning gaze settles upon him, intensity unquenchable and spilling with fervor totally matched to the occasion.
"N-Not enough? You can't be serious! Look, I'm already cutting you a nice deal, and we all have to make a living here!"
Such protests do little to conceal the underlying soul of greed, nothing more than the pitiful skin wrapped over rotting fruit. Kagetsu wags his finger and is not deterred. They will not be taken in by the shallow attempt at diversion.
"Your words betray you, shopkeeper! Iron shall never deserve such a price and you yourself are aware of that fact! But your resistance is most stubborn. Since we do not agree with one another, perhaps we are in need of a third opinion!" Another palm slams, except this time right between the shoulder blades of the young mage with encouraging—or smarting—gusto. "Hahaha! What say you, my young friend? Name a stance or a fair price! Do not be shy."
𓍯𓂃𓏧⏾ I'll cɑll γou mine
☆ mission board pearlescent ☆ sword prompt ☆ seadall/kagetsu
“Tragedy!” It’s the first word that comes to mind when he finally homes in on his target. Seadall appreciates Garreg Mach for it’s pleasant weather, perhaps several paces below scorching even in its warmest months. Still, he’s flushed from the run, aware of the eyes the follow him as he slows to a more graceful trot as he skirts the edges of the training grounds.
This was undoubtedly the reason why he had get to cross paths with the Elusian swordsman – to what end would a dancer find himself in such an arena, without the call of a tournament to draw his gaze? Yet, here Kagetsu stood, stance so at ease that he could have been a permanent fixture here. Kagetsu," The name trills on the tip of his tongue, familiar but showing obvious signs of disuse. How long had it been, since their last meeting? “I-“ A wayward training lance swings into his space, and Seadall rocks back on one foot, twisting into a low crouch to avoid being bludgeoned. Sorry! Someone says, but his gaze remains fixed.
More reasons that he didn’t come to the training grounds.“So, you are here, A grin, small and intimate as he places his hands at his hips. “And you hadn’t yet come to welcome me. Here I believed us to be friends.” It’s not an accusation, though he levels it as one, careful of the blade as he reaches out to squeeze the other’s shoulder.
It would be all too easy to get lost here, to push Kagetsu into a corner and demand details of his travels. How did he too, end up here? Fate was often funny in that way, but Seadall still yearns to examine even the smallest details. It can wait, but they cannot. Even this is familiar. Those days that he spent traveling with the others, Seadall remembers many important things often overshadowing personal preferences.
He sighs, pushing the air from his lungs as if it could serve to force a reset. “Perhaps you know this, but I’m here in desperate need of your help.” At this, he does guide them farther away, tucked into a corner where the students and other teachers could look but not listen as he detailed the tragedy that surrounded a prince and his beautiful bride. A story so heartfelt that Seadall had offered his hand before taking the opportunity to think it through.
One of them had asked Seadall if he was someone prepared to handle an assassin. A berserker, or any other foul play – all the while eyeing the flowing style of his dress. Loose and hiding no weapons. “I could think of no one better than you, my friend.” Another grin, this one carrying with it a clear challenge. “So? What do you think? Care to be my bride?”
@kgetsu
Certain universal expectations will always cling fast to their contents. A compass shall unfailingly point north, onigiri will find embrace between two arms of nori, a fish must reside in water, and, lastly, where a training field is to be found Kagetsu shall be discovered there also. A sword in his hand, his feet across sandy floor; a cardinal truth unable to be denied across any land of his residence. Naturally, so too does this easy truth lead others to find him, as surely as any map they might ever hold.
"—Seadall! What happiness and surprise, it has been far too long!" Training abandoned, pebbles kicking up in the wake of Kagetsu's eager approach, they meet in the middle. His eyes glitter in reflection of the other's ornately donned form; his flowing black hair and robust body; all signs which point out that it is none other than Kagetsu's dear friend! The weight of the dancer's hand upon his shoulder is a tangible certainty toward his presence, and a subtle one that leads Kagetsu to quieter corners. Not that the samurai notices, much too preoccupied with making gooey, affection-filled eyes at Seadall to even notice that he is guided elsewhere. Help? At this, however, he perks up - standing rapt at attention: "I would not turn down a friend in need. Speak freely and I will help where I can."
Words to preface a sprawling epic of compromised romance, rife with mentions of a prince and bride or some such. Had Boucheron stood in his place, no doubt the man would be blubbering with fresh tears, his response that of insistence and sympathy for the affected couple. But Kagetsu's hearing is selective and catches only upon the various, far more interesting ways his sword might be put to use. The second most interesting topic Seadall speaks of brings Kagetsu to stare at him in sudden, almost alarming sobriety.
". . .You are a bold man, Seadall. In my country, two people would be arranged and fixed in marriage regardless of their choices. This is also our first reunion after many months. Still, you have chosen me." They have not even quizzed or held hands, or gazed at the sakura petals together, yet his friend strikes out of the blue with such a momentous question! One that brings him to consider Seadall in a new light.
Kagetsu crosses his arms with as much thought as reluctance. As seasons might turn to years, seconds turns to minutes, and after several he is at last decided. One-hundred-and-eighty-seven seconds, exactly. In other hands, Kagetsu has been thinking for a long time on the manner of decision that will potentially change his life forever. Three minutes is twice the amount of time Kagetsu spends deciding on what to eat for lunch; he is well and truly invested: "Hm. Very well! I think it is too early for love, but time is on our side.
We will marry now, and learn of each other later. I will be yours!"
translator's note: keikaku means plan
closet mini || cont. from -> 🚪
It is some little mystery, how Zelkov can egg Kagetsu on, know he's invited something, and yet his body can jolt to life with the way Kagetsu actually performs it. He pulls Zelkov to meet him, and while he is happy to oblige, the movement disrupts how he'd been cupping Kagetsu's face.
One hand almost slams on the door behind the other, and the other finds Kagetsu's neck. These are sensations that Zelkov is aware of, but he is focused elsewhere.
Kagetsu's mouth had crashed into his with the force and inevitability of an incoming tide. He's just as eager as before, perhaps hungry, and Zelkov is…
There is a twisting in the pit of Zelkov's stomach. In some senses, that is a hunger, too. He realizes that he hadn't assumed, on some level, that Kagetsu would actually take the bait. The next conundrum is whether or not this pleases Zelkov, but for now that can wait.
He's more focused on the shape of Kagetsu's lips against his, the other's breath mixing with his own, and the way that even now, Zelkov can find an opening in Kagetsu's defenses…
In this case, that takes the form of tongue crossing teeth, and the quiet groan Zelkov speaks into his partner's mouth. The thrill of such a passionate kiss is more overwhelming than he could have predicted. His body responds on its own. Where one had braced the door, it now moves to wrap around Kagetsu's shoulders, trying to pull him closer.
"Mmmfmmph."
Of course, it is only natural that the wordsmith Kagetsu, adept over the many intricacies of human language and prone to using every word exactly as they ought to be used and at all times, has a particular way with speech. Even if that speech occasionally works uphill against the elements thrust against it. At present, his syllables thud uselessly as if against a wall, suffocated between the smash of mouths and fighting to let slip a single digestible sound from between the men they belong to. What had the samurai intended to say? A mystery. What is not so mysterious shows itself by comparison.
Challenge, approval, enthusiasm - all have revealed themselves from the very first beat of their kiss. Now: passion. Kagetsu and Zelkov collide like tide upon rocks, respectively; though, that comparison is not totally accurate and, like water, ever shifting. Zelkov may be as rock at first, sturdy and enduring, but he is not nearly as stationary as one or content to remain where he is. To prove passive and resilient without his own method of attack.
In short time Kagetsu feels the glide of his friend's—rival's—tongue stroke within his own mouth, glossy and seamless. Perhaps in that moment to Zelkov Kagetsu is the rock, instead; his teeth as polished river stones smooth beneath his touch. A thoughtful hum joins the first useless sound from earlier. This sensation does not draw Kagetsu closer to pleasure but to contemplation. It is a strange but enjoyable feeling, albeit feathery, as if the pressure were not enough.
More, he thinks. Then with puerile greed - more, more, more!
He leans in, mouth, hands, and all. As he delves deeper into the experience that is Zelkov, so too do daring hands venture forth with a SMACK! Fingers grasp zealously at the man's rear, a cheek in each palm. Zelkov returns once more to being the rock, his buns as weathered steel in Kagetsu's hold.
is it still a comedy routine when there's no audience
Pearlescent | Any Skill +1
A foot taps against the floor as the woman stares the two of them down. Behind tiny half spectacles, her eyes settle on one before drifting, slowly, to the other. Her expression remains impassive and cold, the exact sort of expression you would expect from one with experience managing a wide cast of characters. It is difficult to tell what thoughts might be lurking there beyond disappointment and disapproval, but she makes no outward display of them to confirm. Finally, she clears her throat and speaks. “And you two heard about the opening in our staff where, exactly?”
Mitama’s lips press together to bite down on the initial, biting response she instinctively wants to give. This is the exact sort of person that she greatly enjoys throwing off-pace; authoritative, condescending, and otherwise unpleasant. This is also, unfortunately, the very last thing they should be doing on this assignment from the church. So, instead, Mitama smiles politely. “Oh, when we arrived we asked around about what places were hiring, and your estate was first among those that came highly recommended.” She lies before turning to Kagetsu. “Is that not right?”
Were it not for it being the request of a newly made acquaintance, Mitama would not have agreed to come along on this investigation. It was everything she hated the idea of; working for the Church without complaint, working for someone else without complaint, and, worst of all, chores. Horrible, boring, uninteresting chores inflicted upon her hands that had never worked a day in her life. On paper, this job could not be any less suited for her to take on.
Curiosity, on the other hand, had her going along with it. Less for what secrets could be found in the nobility here, though she did not doubt for a moment that that would be interesting as well, but for the unfamiliarly familiar knight whom she was here to assist. So, she is content to smile and play nice, for now, and hopes that they might find something out before they are asked to leave. “We thought if we were going to work here, it would be best to aim for the place with the best reputation from its workers.”
@kgetsu
In truth, Kagetsu does not really know why the monastery is so concerned with this 'Pearl Shoals' place, but he does know the name reminds him much of home. So likened to that of Pale Sands' that they might be as cousins! Otherwise, the samurai's knowledge over their bearings could be found in snatches. Something of a dangerous relic, of mouths unwilling to part with its secrets, and a shroud of mystery from which few details can be extricated unless one stands on the inside. Important to him not for their implications of danger, but because right now that is the core of what motivates two individuals to don both their best performances and disguises.
Or one of them at least, in regards to the latter.
"Oh, yes, yes! That is correct!" Kagetsu chimes in well-timed agreement beside his newest friend, upper lip twitching with the bushy black mustache pasted across it. Upon closer inspection, one might notice the accessory to be slightly crooked, but its happy owner seems none too concerned and continues without missing a beat. How fun their high-stakes game of pretend! "We have heard much about your impressiveness and wish to show you ours through service if you will have us!"
"Is that right? Your. . .impressiveness?"
The bespectacled woman cocks a brow at that, her critical stare proving not only analytical but impenetrable as a harsh glare conceals the eyes behind it. Her head tilts to look between them, Kagetsu and Mitama, then proceeds to address them both. The tapping heel stops like a gavel of judgment.
"That's a bold claim from two prospective workers with no history of employment. We won't just accept any maids and butlers, our estate has standards. But let's put that aside for now—first things first, we'll start with names. You with the facial hair."
Kagetsu blinks as if met with a sudden revelation, fist meeting open hand in a motion of dawning enlightenment. "Standards? I see! That is indeed worth consideration. . ." A nodding head in blatant agreement with the enemy and then a 'disguised' Kagetsu rings out with total honesty. "My name is Kagetsu! Of Elusia!"
Now Mitama's turn.
translator's note: keikaku means plan
closet mini || cont. from -> 🚪
Kagetsu is so full of surprises. He is strange, in his own way, but no less endearing for it. Zelkov watches closely as his gaze drifts hither and fro but never leaves Zelkov's body. Has he caught Kagetsu looking before? To recall memories is inconclusive, and he can't decide one way or the other.
In the brief pauses, Zelkov imagines he can hear his partner's heartbeat quickening, as though this olive branch extended is anything to be worked up over. After all, Zelkov's first motion was to give Kagetsu access to his mouth. Now that it's in front of him, does he hesitate for a reason?
Ever curious - that is Kagetsu. Even the words he speaks seem to be a step backwards from the eager kiss he'd planted on Zelkov's chin. Does he regret this diversion into the closet? Could Zelkov make him regret it?
He doubts these questions will ever have a suitable answer. What he does know is that he dearly wants to continue teasing Kagetsu like this.
He leans closer. If he so much as flinched, his lips could press into Kagetsu's forehead. He moves his hand - and Kagetsu's included - to press Kagetsu's fingers into his own cheek. Zelkov angles his thumb to gently guide the slope of Kagetsu's jawline upwards, bringing their faces just that much closer.
He wants Kagetsu to take the bait. Does he want to kiss him? Well, he isn't averse to it, of that he's certain.
“Go ahead,” he goads, so quietly that his breath may be felt more than his words heard. “Consolidate.”
Kagetsu of Elusia is not one for bends. Those meandering paths and roundabout meanings in the employ of others with slicker minds and sharper tongues. Plain of thinking and unabashedly so, he walks the uncomplicated straight path, he expresses his joy without veils and pulls from the bottom of his chest when doing so. He is the loudest at Elusian court, and does not understand its politics, or the contemptuous, tittering laughs done behind a hand whenever he should enter a room wearing all of that loudness. Simplicity, however, is a language he gets - yes and no.
And this is a yes: the gentle pressure of calloused fingers that guide closer but do not push; the steady golden gaze that patiently watches Kagetsu with a flicker of amusement behind them; the quiet command spoken between them, meant for no other ears. With every passing second, he knows that the way forward is without bramble, without complication. Zelkov's meaning is naught but clear. 'Yes'.
Now? Bold brown linen to Zelkov's black silk secrecy, suddenly his other hand shoots forward to cup the taller man's face, both now used to frame. The skin is smooth and there is a moment of distraction, the pads of his thumbs rest just beneath the edges of piercing eyes. Each on the swell of a cheekbone, each at mountain's peak as if he were no more than the ruminating hiker faced with lush bounty. He revels and studies, thoughtful, then returns to the heart of their matter.
—yes, yes, yes.
"Okay!" Kagetsu says, face brimming bright with determination. There is no more signal as his hands pull Zelkov closer - as he reaches up simultaneously to cross the small margin of space remaining between their lips and smash them together. Plain of thinking, plainer of approach, for Kagetsu is a simple man and history has ever told of that result. Surprised? Yes. Disapproving? Never. No partner of Kagetsu's has ever complained for the way he has kissed them.
But then again, no partner has ever gone by the name of Zelkov.
translator's note: keikaku means plan
closet mini || cont. from -> 🚪
Kagetsu says he is not an eager schoolboy, and then rushes to kiss Zelkov. He misses, pressing his lips instead to Zelkov's chin, but the taller man allows this. He then rushes to attempt to disrobe Zelkov. Almost as immediately, Zelkov's hands are on Kagetsu's in an attempt to dissuade his goal (this is not a good place or time for steamier acts).
However, he turns this into a more gentle hand-hold, his grasp is firm in drawing Kagetsu's hands away from his outfit, but turn gentle as he slips his thumbs into Kagetsu's palms and aims to weave his fingers betwixt the other's.
“Now, now,” he murmurs, leaning down. He knows his breath must be hot against Kagetsu's forehead. He also knows he is no longer preventing Kagetsu from kissing him completely. “We have plenty of time, do we not? Slow down…”
Warm. Close. Very close.
Fingers tenderly interlace, guiding and correcting; to Kagetsu, intriguing. Rare is it that the samurai should ever be reduced to a state of quiet, that his gaze should linger with bewilderment on any single place like it did the smooth column of Zelkov's throat. He stares and stares because at such a height eyes and neck are perfectly aligned, but also because there is something about the way that dark bump before him bobs with every word. He does not really know how to describe it - its commanding grasp for his attention or the tempting sound it produces. The novelty of it all; both the whispering warmth against his forehead and that of a long known friend flush against his body. Old seen in different light.
"You speak of slowing down but not stopping."
Kagetsu reluctantly focuses on else - bright-eyed and curious but also the slightest bit skeptical. Zelkov does not agree to play with Kagetsu so easily, never in their many years of acquaintance has he done so. His seeming compliance here is almost like a dream! But at the same time? He looks at their intertwined hands like a man newly discovering fire, then looks back at Zelkov: the inventor responsible for it.
A part of him does not wish it to be a dream.
"Then. . .then, that means you are amenable?" It could nearly be deemed comical; the way Kagetsu's rapid fire attention alternates, like the bounciest of balls, between Zelkov's eyes and Zelkov's throat and Zelkov's chest and— "To a consolidating quiz of friendship and camaraderie?"
translator's note: keikaku means plan
closet mini || cont. from -> 🚪
Yes, Zelkov had suspected it was some manner of hair-brained scheme.
He releases a sigh, remaining still as Kagetsu's arms wrap around him, as he delightedly confesses his ingenious strategy. How long can a steamy embrace be if it's only seven minutes, he wonders, but he's rather certain what the shape of Kagetsu's answer would be, so he keeps the question to himself.
The real question is whether or not Kagetsu is fucking with him or being genuine. His partner isn't stupid. He knows how to feign his ignorance into jokes and teases of his own. Is this one of those moments? Zelkov decides to find out.
With Kagetsu's eagerness, his chest is pressed to Zelkov as he attempts to close the gap between their mouths. It is up to Zelkov to finish that gap, being the taller of the two. He waits.
“You are rushing things, dear Kagetsu,” Zelkov replies, voice low and breathy. He means to imply steamier things with his intonation.
The hand that had attempted the door snakes its way around Kagetsu's waist, holding him exactly where he'd placed himself, flush against Zelkov. With the other, Zelkov gently brushes his fingers across Kagetsu's cheek, cupping his face with such the slightest of touches, as though he means to test whether or not Kagetsu really wants the kiss he asked for.
“You just said long and steamy, but you are acting like an eager schoolboy.”
@kgetsu
In truth, rarely does Kagetsu get this far in his schemes against Zelkov. Their push and pull is but another relationship that stands unchanging and immemorial, like apples falling to gravity, like ebb and flow of tide, like how toadstools must come after rain.
But what is to come after this?
He gulps. Loudly. For a moment, he is raised above the waters in such ways he is regretfully able to name. Between them, he is not the fisherman but the fish, flopping gracelessly on the shore by one who has used not a line to reel him but the measly fingers on his dominant hand. Cupped against Zelkov's touch, his eyes widen. His ears tingle as if the tip of a feather swirls endlessly against it, this way and that, against his skin. Inside his brain. Why does Zelkov speak to him that way? So breathless when they have only just started.
". . .I am not an eager schoolboy."
He is not an eager schoolboy, Kagetsu repeats to himself, because some words leave in an unthinking mumble, a strangely subdued spattering of syllables. His willpower fortifies, however, like such protest is the push he needs. Testing his limits, he rises onto the tips of his toes. It is enough to butt his lips squarely against Zelkov's chin provided the taller does not crane his neck away. Close. But he cannot do it alone. He lands back down on the balls of his feet with a pout.
"We are being steamy right now, are we not? You are wearing so many layers, the warmth of your body is helped none by this closet! It is so hot! Burning! As I am clinging to you, by proxy you are not the only one who suffers!" Does Kagetsu know what he is doing? What he is saying? Yes; yes, he does; because every word is one Kagetsu of Elusia thoroughly means. His hands unlace if only so that one might pluck at the sleeve of the man's dark outer garment.
"Do not be selfish. Take it off! Right now!"
[ SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN ]
“What is this?” Zelkov asks flatly.
He had no time to protest as he was pulled into the closet with Kagetsu. He had no particular plans on doing so right now, either. He normally allows his coworker (and friend) a certain level of strange whimsy before judging the other’s actions. As strange and trying as Kagetsu can be, Zelkov knows that is he mostly harmless when it comes to his weird desire to be close to people he cares about.
The two of them are in a closet. Kagetsu stands between Zelkov and the door, but his build isn’t so wide as to block Zelkov from reaching an arm past his waist and trying to open the door.
When he tries, however, the doorknob clicks ineffectually and does not give. Kagetsu is imposing enough that Zelkov can’t reasonably lean down to ply it open without the other’s express permission.
So they are stuck. In a closet.
“Explain yourself,” Zelkov says, and for all things, these two words are not as biting as they could have been. They are approaching the threshold between whimsy and annoyance, but they are still firmly lodged in the whimsy sector.
ethereal ball 2025
". . .Hahaha! All according to keikaku."
(translator's note: keikaku means plan.)
Pride, satisfaction, vindication. Each emotion holds equal presence on the samurai's grinning, much too bright face - his childish expression of triumph blinding even within the confines of the scantily lit closet. Kagetsu has planned for this, of course, laid his trap as a skilled fisherman might, fanned out his net and watched as the mightiest, most elusive, and most Elusian of sturgeon fell within its grasp! Being quite the connoisseur when it comes to both his challenges and to his fish, naturally his prize has no hope of escape. This shall be his conquest!
The sweep of the taller man's arm is felt and allowed, his attempts at departure abided. Kagetsu is not a small man but he is no Zelkov, they face each other as hills and mountains do, and so bodyblocking the other from his means of escape is unquestionably futile. More importantly, he has accounted for that, too. The door is locked, and no matter how valiantly either should struggle, locked it shall remain until the destined duration has run its course.
"Silly Zelkov, there is nothing to explain. Is it not clear as daylight? We are in the closet of heaven in which we must spend seven minutes! That is seven minutes we shall spend in a long and steamy embrace."
Whoever is teaching Kagetsu these words must be shot. Or perhaps he knows exactly what he is saying, for in the manner of a sudden ambush he throws out his hands to tightly lock behind the other's back. Like this, they are indeed embracing, and it is indeed steamy for all the layers that stand between them. The only deviation?
"We must quiz now!" he declares brazenly, pushing up against his friend in a spirit of eager insistence. Zelkov is not often amenable to his antics, he knows, but these are no antics and surely after hearing his sound reasoning even he—a glacier among men—shall thaw! "I have heard that those who leave this closet do so on the strengthening of their bonds. Strong to stronger than ever. The method at that is not mysterious. We shall partake in the same to pronounce our friendship eternal. . .come!"
With that, Kagetsu puckers up.
queen ivy and the two stooges
cont. from -> 📸
A small smile tugs on Zelkov's lips, mirroring Ivy's own. He hadn't thought to trouble her with the silly games of the evening, but since she offers herself, he can do nothing but indulge his liege.
As though it isn't also something he's participating in, for tonight.
“Is it truly soft to participate in a party game?” he suggests, in case she would rather think of herself as hard - he will give her that option. As he speaks, he shifts his grip on the photo-artifex to offer her one of his charms - a pearl, small in his hand, exchanged for her anchor.
“You may, if you please, consider it as nothing more than humoring your eccentric retainers. I have found socializing tonight to be a rather meaningful pursuit.”
Charms exchanged, Zelkov offers her his arm. “I am certain he will not be difficult to find. Shall we?”
When Kagetsu should be found at the ball, perhaps it is for the likes of a sight that can only be attributed to him. In other words, both entirely unexpected and perfectly so. Sitting cross-legged within a circle of curious local children convened from the villages surrounding the Viscount's manor, he waves his hands in animation, answering every question and sowing every tale with due diligence. A great tribal order with one storytelling onigiri samurai at its helm who is nothing but truthful.
"Really, Kagetsu? You're a knight? You don't really seem like one!"
"No, that is right! I am a knight in the service of a powerful and merciless liege! My lady rides a wyvern many bodies high that is all but an extension of herself. On the battlefield, it is as if she possesses two heads! When she is angry her hair sprouts flames! But when truly angry the air turns to a mysterious cold."
"Two heads? EEK!"
". . .F-Flames?! No way!"
For the bright-eyed and impressionable younglings who cling to their de facto leader's every word, his fantastical account proves no less than unsettling. They look at each other, whisper, and stir uneasily. Theirs are precisely the manners of expression Kagetsu wore when he attempted to sneak onigiri into war council and Queen Ivy noticed. Neither the first nor the last time such a sacrilege had occurred.
He nods eagerly, obliviously, and continues: "That is not all. Sharing in tenure is my friend and rival, Zelkov. He is a beastly man! I would be loath to name someone stronger and more fearsome. His eyes are like bright and glittering gold! A black panther taken form! His temper too is no joke—sometimes I imagine that he will eat me for daring to encroach upon his obsessions. Often does he hole up in his room for many days at a time, mumbling of this or that insanity."
One little girl hides her eyes. Another hides behind her. Kagetsu on the other hand does not shrink at all and stands suddenly to his feet in an explosion of energy and elation. Waving his hands no longer in the name of conveying a story but for his overjoyed greetings as two—man and woman—coax into view.
"Oh! There they are!"
The gathered children shriek and scatter.
@lindwyvrm
It took her some time to eventually find the man in question. Alcryst, for all his good intentions, had not left her with much of a description of who to look for beyond his name, and Mitama was hardly about to go up to every person who may perchance have come here from Elyos to ask them if they knew the man in turn.
Eventually though, after enough people watching, she spies someone who clothes look familiar, in a distinctive sort of way. It is not Hoshidan fashion, there are small differences here and there that make it so, but it is similar enough that Mitama can see where Alcryst's confusion might have come from.
Now, the far more daunting part. "Excuse me, are you Kagetsu?" She asks. Should she bow? She is certain he is her senior, but it feels a little silly to do so in the middle of the ball. "Pardon my intrusion, but I heard from Alcryst that you are from a land that sounds similar to where I hail from, and I grew curious about meeting such a person myself. My name is Mitama."
ethereal ball 2025
Kagetsu's arrival at the ball is not accompanied by much fanfare. Contrary to the louder plumages of those who arrive bedecked, here is a man who exists only to frolic and to make merry in the comfort of his humble clothes! He cannot imagine waving a sword around in such starchy attire as he has seen and so he will not make it reality, either. Instead he roams and explores in leisure, eyes filled with wonder landing upon exotic sights manifold. Here he is reminded more of Elusia than he is of Pale Sands, but even then there exists an ocean of difference between the festivities in question. As well as an ocean in immediate view.
He is buried in contemplation thinking only of the many tasty saltwater fish that may be found in unexplored depths before he is approached by a pretty young woman. She is particularly pretty because Kagetsu finds her graceful deportment greatly nostalgic. Lovelier still because her kimono does much to remind him of his homeland, everything from its cinched bodice to its voluminous sleeves to the painterly depiction of its sakura blooms. Wonderful; fashionable; tight and loose in all the right amount and all the right places! He beams in its measure, then hers.
"Aha, yes, yes, I am that very Kagetsu! But to speak of Prince Alcryst? I am certain that this is what many people call. . .networking. What pleasant surprises—I am not opposed to it, annnnd—" A thoughtful rub of chin, a heavy silence as he regards the woman dressed in familiar apparel. A nod of finality seals both questions and answers unspoken. ". . .I am already greatly fond of you!"
As if springing to motion after emulating a statue, Kagetsu takes her by the hands. Ah, his heart is seized! It will not to do leave this opportunity alone. A fleeting encounter this shall not be but one writ to memory!
"Miss Mitama. Your name is much like mine. I should like to hear about your lands also! We must trade in our stories and knowledge. Let us partake of each other's wisdom day and night!"
