[kinomorebi]

Multi-character account (both canon and original characters present) Gore, violence, death, and various other dark themes may be present. Shit gets weird, here. Warnings will be tagged. 21+ required for interaction.

Highly selective moving forward. Only writing with accounts I follow / mutuals. If we're not mutuals it's nothing personal. I either haven't looked at your profile yet or I just don't think we'd make a good match for writing.

Friendly mun! Feel free to throw ideas my way and/or send in a meme start! My inbox is always open for plotting/questions/concerns. Discord available for mutuals.

Characters penned and tormented by Kino.

RULES. | CHARACTERS. | MEMES. | ALT.

Status: Hiatus until mid April.

[kinomorebi]

!! Hiatus is officially over come May 15th !!

Wowowow guys. It has been way too long and I am sooooo ready to be back and writing with my wicked talented mutuals again.

Activity will normalize in the coming weeks and find a new sustainable consistency, so expect to see me around more often 😏

Hope everyone has remembered to be kind to themselves 🤍

[fxhdskjz]

via @foiegraphics 𖤓

[silverjetsystm]

Adrenaline shakes happen to the best, her skittering ones spread paper feathers from manilla skin. Glow in the dark eyes flick to contents, her hands, head facing her dead on. His marble slabs do not tremble, watching posture, her legs tensing springs. Red sky in morning, shepherds' take warning.

Eyes meet. Woman’s long lashes and a mischievous expression are no good when a man is on the opposite side of them. She got him. What he took for a jump and run are sweeping legs. “Cheeky” thunder, swept ankles hit the floor. Mr. Knight knows how to recover, roll to his feet, hand snatches red blurred air. Office chair crashes in front of him, blocking his view, wheels spinning in its wake. Stitch face grins, laughter booms. Some say audacity, others say chutzpah. Whichever it is, she has it in spades.

Another terrible woman, he’d joke later to Greer and Reese. Not his first time he’s been beaten by a woman.

Run. Chase. Old habits. Wild dog doesn’t need to sprint after her hair’s beacon. Priest cracks his neck, knuckles, inhaling the air in the room. Could go cold, be predator to someone who doesn’t know she’s prey. Thing is, he doesn’t have to do that either. She’ll be scared enough when she realizes she’s prey.

Silent leather soles stride after her, leather fingertips brushing today’s dark purple botanical damask wallpaper. Wall presses itself against fingertips like a wave or a happy creature greeting its friend. “Be nice.” Reminding himself and the Mission. She’s not here to hurt them.

A House wants to be lived in. Mission was no different. She stole from its friend. Hallways maze-like, dead-ending where previously had been safety. Distance from the moon priest. Chandelier candles flicker, opal drops casting rainbow and crystal rope shadows against her shadow. Restraints for a thief. Whichever path she turns and weaves is for naught. Empty ballroom lit royal blue and gold, an indoor greenhouse misting its leafy children…

Mr. Kni.ght leans against a door frame, sole against dark wood. “Nice night.” An observer’s air, he makes no move to intercept. “Want another round?”

@kinomorebi

[kinomorebi]

What fickle words he offers as his metaphorical olive branch are left to wither and rot at her feet. An offering for the dirt and nothing more. The only chord his vocal tonality strikes in her is amusement.

Seriously? Forgiveness?

No. And he’s a damn fool to think everyone deserves a second chance.

Freya dips, seeps like the night into the darkest parts of the building and coagulates within shadows… or is the Midnight Mission swallowing her whole? It’s getting harder and harder to tell. Reminds her of all those nights spent behind laboratory walls, endless hallways and spinning ceilings and the soft click of leather soles always one step behind, just like his. For a moment, Freya fears the last few years have all been one big escape dream and that she’s just woken up to yet another test, but her surroundings are too colorful for that. Too alive for that.

Did he somehow drug her? Was she hallucinating?

Shit, shit, shit!

She doesn’t want to have to resort to violence. It's not that she would mind kicking his ass— Freya has kicked more asses than she can count— it's more so the whole costume thing. Anyone unhinged enough to walk around their own living quarters in a full… well… whatever it is he was wearing, had to be at least a little off the rails.

”How?” Freya snaps, whirling around to face him dead on, true colors of auburn red shining in the night. “What sort of fucked up hallucinogenic did you give me?!” She’s dealt with plenty of hallucinogenics before, but nothing quite like this. “How are you doing this?” She practically snarls, and with a moment's pause, begins to understand the Mission’s own take on restraints. There’s nowhere left to run.

Funny how captivity feels like the closest thing to home.

@silverjetsystm

[zachrp]

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ RANDOM TEXT MESSAGE PROMPTS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

[TXT] : answer the question.

[TXT] : you left your jacket here.

[TXT] : ignore that last message.

[TXT] : must be my fault somehow.

[TXT] : this was a bad idea but i'm doing it anyway.

[TXT] : guess i misunderstood the vibe.

[TXT] : i'm only texting you because i'm drunk.

[TXT] : i can't stop thinking about your hands.

[TXT] : you're not gonna believe this..

[TXT] : i'm blushing shut up.

[TXT] : okay wait no don't answer that.

[TXT] : i didn't say anything because i didn't want to argue.

[TXT] : be honest with me.

[TXT] : are you free tonight?

[TXT] : i'll explain later, just call me now!

[TXT] : i like it when you looked at me like that.

[TXT] : i should stop texting before this escalates.

[TXT] : i keep rereading that message.

[TXT] : are you trying to distract me on purpose.

[TXT] : i hate that you were right.

[TXT] : you'd be so proud of me right now and also disappointed.

[TXT] : cheers to bad decisions.

[TXT] : i had a dream about you.

[TXT] : i thought you were coming?

[TXT] : wow that's crazy.

[TXT] : it's whatever honestly.

[TXT] : your stuff is still here.

[TXT] : open the door.

[TXT] : what are you doing right now?

[TXT] : don't screenshot this.

[TXT] : don't make me ask twice.

[TXT] : i'm grabbing coffee, want one?

[TXT] : what are we?

[TXT] : no really it's fine.

[TXT] : you don't have to lie.

[TXT] : i don't feel great.

[TXT] : don't rush i've only been waiting.

[TXT] : i forgot the grocery list.

[TXT] : don't do this over text.

[TXT] : did i do something wrong?

[TXT] : i don't trust myself around you.

[TXT] : running late sorry.

[TXT] : you make it hard to be good.

[TXT] : i told myself i wouldn't text you tonight.

[TXT] : are you mad at me.

[TXT] : please answer me.

[TXT] : i told you not to do that.

[TXT] : can i come over?

[TXT] : i'm outside.

[TXT] : you're being unfair.

[TXT] : that's not an excuse.

[TXT] : can you stay on the phone with me?

[TXT] : are you busy?

[TXT] : please tell me you're okay.

[TXT] : i think i fucked up.

[TXT] : i need to vent.

[TXT] : do you want food?

[TXT] : this is messing with my head.

[TXT] : i should not be imagining this right now.

[TXT] : are you mad at me?

[TXT] : please say something.

[TXT] : can you lie for me?

[TXT] : i found your keys!

[TXT] : i just thought you'd let me know.

[TXT] : i know you're awake.

[TXT] : stay the night.

[TXT] : you look good and you know it.

[TXT] : this reminded me of you!

[TXT] : this conversation is not helping my self control.

[TXT] : i love how you only respond when it's convenient.

[TXT] : i love you and i hate that i love you.

[TXT] : you left me on read.

[TXT] : i cleared my schedule.

[TXT] : i can't keep doing this.

[TXT] : are you alone?

[TXT] : stuck in traffic.

[TXT] : you could've just said no.

[TXT] : i don't want to be alone.

[TXT] : who are you with?

[TXT] : something has to change.

[TXT] : if you were here right now i'd be in serious trouble.

[TXT] : i'm done.

[TXT] : don't tease me.

[TXT] : i'm getting worried.

[TXT] : oh okay i guess we're not talking anymore.

[TXT] : where are you??

[TXT] : i'm thinking about you.

[TXT] : i hate nights like this without you.

[TXT] : can you come get me?

[TXT] : look up.

[TXT] : i trust you.

[TXT] : i need help.

[TXT] : this is flirting right?

[TXT] : i changed my mind about earlier.

[TXT] : it's fine do whatever you want.

[TXT] : it's not what it looked like, okay?

[TXT] : my brain won't shut up about last night.

[TXT] : please come get me before i make worse choices.

[TXT] : that was not funny.

[TXT] : i'm proud of you.

[TXT] : i don't know why i'm telling you this.

[TXT] : i'm sorry, i should've said something sooner

[TXT] : please don't be mad..

[TXT] : are you coming over or just teasing me?

[TXT] : i won't bother you again.

[TXT] : i almost sent this three times.

[TXT] : did you get home safe?

[TXT] : you don't owe me anything clearly.

[TXT] : i miss you.

[TXT] : guess who i just ran into..

[TXT] : i can't sleep.

[TXT] : i need clarity.

[TXT] : tell me to behave.

[TXT] : okay fine you win.

[TXT] : hello?

[TXT] : you did good.

[TXT] : do you miss me?

[TXT] : i'm bored, entertain me.

[TXT] : are you safe??

[TXT] : you're unbelievable.

[TXT] : i shouldn't have said what i said earlier.

[TXT] : i hope you're asleep because this is embarrassing.

[TXT] : don't ever say that again.

[TXT] : are you flirting with me?

[TXT] : you owe me gas money.

[TXT] : stop avoiding me.

[TXT] : call me when you see this!

[TXT] : you still mad?

[TXT] : can we talk in person?

[TXT] : can i crash at your place?

[TXT] : you're going to get me in trouble.

[TXT] : i'm spiraling.

[TXT] : you're doing this on purpose.

[TXT] : okay i'm done texting now.

[TXT] : you look cute.

[TXT] : glad you had fun.

[TXT] : i'm exhausted.

[TXT] : i'm trying to be respectful but you're not helping.

[TXT] : why would you think that was okay??

[TXT] : i want to move on.

[TXT] : thanks for the heads up i guess.

[TXT] : you left your panties here for a reason didn't you.

[TXT] : you know exactly what you're doing.

[TXT] : please don't tell anyone.

[TXT] : remember when we said we wouldn't do this again.

[TXT] : i can't find my shoes.

[TXT] : do you always do this or just to me?

[TXT] : tell me you don't miss me so i can shut up.

[TXT] : you crossed a line.

[TXT] : you up?

[TXT] : you didn't have to do that.

[TXT] : don't get smug.

[TXT] : i'm on my way!

[TXT] : i should not be saying this.

[TXT] : remind me to tell you later.

[TXT] : come over.

[kinomorebi]

Based on X | @s0ulbind

She’s tried to be patient with him, she really has, but his overprotective nature can be overbearing to the point of suffocation at times. And for what? They haven’t been together long enough for him to be this way — or at least, she doesn’t realize they have... Imogen has yet to remember the lifetimes before that he’s privy to. Even if there is something about him that feels familiar beyond the confines this one singular lifetime has to offer, she just can’t quite understand where he’s coming from with this frustration. Not yet.

“Tell you to take care of it?” Imogen scoffs. “Tell you to take care of it?” Bewilderment wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what she’s feeling right now. “I’m a grown ass woman, Monarch, I don’t need your protection! From day one you’ve treated me like some… some… fragile, helpless thing!” Imogen’s hands lift in heated gestures of emotion, pride the driving force while she dominates the space shared between them. “You can’t keep treating me like I’ll suddenly keel over and die from even the slightest gust of wind!”

Oh, if looks could killl…

A groan of frustration slips past parted lips, arms folding over her chest as she stares him down, attitude ever prevalent in her demeanor. ”It’s like you don’t think I’m capable of looking after myself! You keep saying these things as if you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m going to die… Well I’ve got news for you: We all die at one point or another. It’s a part of life. That’s just how it is. Can’t change that fact.”

She’s trying to reel herself in, trying to understand his side, but patience wears thin. “Why are you always so insistent on protecting me, Monarch? What are you protecting me from?” Softer now. Gentler. “Seriously… You have to know how crazy it all sounds…” There's nothing quite as tricky as matters of the heart.

[blessyouhawkeye]

gagging you with our red string of fate to shut you up for one fucking second

[deficd]

The glow cast by the fire renders Violet’s silhouette double, tripled— a smudge, a flaw in the lens of his perception. Ilya waits for her words to dissipate, for the hush after the echo. The fire is dying. Even the bones of it— black and soft, sinking inward— have the grace to collapse in silence.

“I’ve learned that every knife, every hand, is kin.” A pause to examine his own ungloved palm, marbled with the memory of old cuts, jaw twitching minutely as if to bite down on whatever answer he wants to resist. There are no constellations, no stardust, for him: there is only the space in between, that infinite sort of emptiness with a maw that only consumes, consumes, consumes.

Is that the shape?

“But the soul—” hesitation there, as if it might rot between his teeth, “The soul is the wound left after the knife is gone. The hunger is never the blade itself.”

Ilya leans forward, arms propped on knees, head turns to fix on the sweep of shadows her lips make as she speaks. “You sound like you know the difference.”

[kinomorebi]

Soft eyes never once part from his so long as he's speaking, drinking in everything he says in tenfold. It's true, her trust lies cradled in the foreign kindness of a then-stranger's scarred palms, but Violet would not have survived had he not found her at the bone cairns that day. She's not entirely certain it was a good thing.

"I once thought I knew the difference..." Clouds part to dapple the snow with moonglow shadows, and there beneath the darkness cast lies something even darker, still. Violet shifts beneath the flush of moonlight. She turns her face away from him, downward sinking, unsure if she's hiding the shadows or hiding from them. "Now I'm not so sure."

Can he hear it? Can he hear the whispers like she can?

Ancient tomes and dark magic far beyond her understanding promise power in the quiet dark, thrumming beneath skin, hidden by the soft fur of her borrowed winter attire. "And what of your soul, then?" She whispers as curiosity and the biting wind color her flush-pink. "What knife bears your wounds?"

Would he converse so easily if he knew what lies in the dark? The history carved into her flesh? If he knew it was not just Violet and Ilya there beneath the stars that night, but something else, too?

The fire's ashen bones offer one last dying breath of warmth. After that, its nothing but the unforgiving cold of a Lankiveil winter.

[oceansprompts]

RP MUSE VALENTINE’S APPLICATION.

your name:

Romantic or platonic?:

A night in or dinner out or an activity?:

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?:

What's your perfect date?:

Would you cook for me?:

Would you let me cook for you?:

Can we make-out?:

Make out in private or in public?:

Do you like to cuddle?:

Blankets or no blankets for cuddling?:

Couch or bed?:

What are at least 3 hobbies of yours?:

Tell me something about you no else knows:

Why do you want to be my valentine?:

What makes you a good Valentine?:

[kylo-wrecked]

“Vi…”

Violet…

Don’t place certainty on human behavior. 

Don’t underestimate his tolerance for cages and violence. 

Ben spots the feet, the right ankle turned inward, the left foot flattened, bloodied cap toes squashed into the tile. He tells her not to move, he tells her everything will be okay. Doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense. When he approaches the body, he knows they can’t call on the law. He knows what’ll come of it, ‘way he knows his own tacky boot-prints. 

There’s manslaughter, self-defense. Then there’s mutilation, desecration, the abuse of a corpse, the shirt a collapsed tent hollowed over ribs splayed open like a night-bloom. 

Ben’s heart leaps in his own chest, his gaze pacing between the corpse and Violet, rabbit-quick. 

He chooses Violet, he chooses the aftermath, lifting her from one mess and lowering her into another. She’s pressed against him, back to the edge of the tub's porcelain maw, shocked but not insensate. Not heedless of the bathroom tile, the wash-rag then flannel he uses to daub her sanguine cheeks. Ben’s fingers do their dirty work under a flickering halogen and stop just short of Violet’s shirt collar. 

Violet… 

His eyes ask for the permission he is going to seize anyway.

@kinomorebi

[kinomorebi]

Violet's eyes are still-water mirrors, pooling until the surface tension snaps and she sinks down into herself. Into the aftermath. Dark omens scatter in the fading light of broken tomorrows. Her own recognition is haunting. 

She'll be tracing nothing but red trails from here to her grave. 

But that doesn’t mean Ben has to follow.

“Ben…” Voice raw and hoarse beyond the point of recognition, yet the imprint of her is always there; soft, fragile like leaves at the whim of fall zephyrs. 

“Please, you have to go,” is another way of saying save yourself is another way of saying I love you.

I love you. I love you.

His reply comes in his staying. Countless confessions of the broken. Violet knows Ben has already made his choice, and if there’s anything she’s learned, he’s not going to change his mind any time soon. So she quiets, breath coming out wheezed and strained against the purpling inflammation of handprints that hide behind the blood on her throat. 

Ben…

Her eyes find his in the night and weep confessions she doesn’t dare speak. Silent permission granted. 

@kylo-wrecked

[kylo-wrecked]

“while i finish this up, would you light the fire?” From a rather messy Violet, covered in flour from her currently failing attempt at making cookies.

 {🫀 @kinomorebi broke and bought: Ex-Con!Ben :// not accepting }

It was Violet’s idea. The cabin. They weren’t far from town; they couldn’t be. There was simply too much blood between them and Aster. One afternoon, she’d said. We can rent it for the day. As though it couldn’t hurt. As though it would be good for Ben. No real indication whether she wanted to be there or was experimenting with distance. 

How far…?

They were learning to make peace with the blood.

“You gonna bake yourself?” Bad joke, but it prevented his eyes from going too soft. 

He had to learn how to look at her again. 

Ben’s gaze stole to the fireplace, the witch’s pot there. Squatting, he removed it without ceremony, swept, and cleared the damper. Tried to be normal about it. Fire was just fire, he thought, as he smacked the ash off his palms and rose. Fire was—Violet was peering at him from behind a squat counter island—pure.

“What’s up?” he ventured. He hadn't jumped at all.

[kinomorebi]

An impromptu cabin rental just outside of town may take her mind off a two-heart-slaughter, but it doesn’t make the killing any less inevitable. She can’t outrun the knife when it’s grasped between her own fingers.

“Bake myself?” Laughter fills the space, that characteristic smile a soul-warmth radiating. “Ben, I swear… if you say it’s because I’m too sweet, I can’t promise you won’t be getting a face full of flour...” 

She’s only half kidding.

The cookies are slid with delicate care into the oven’s warmth. Timer set, dirtied apron sidelined, and hands washed clean in the old copper sink basin. A stray splatter briefly disturbs the quiet jazz instrumentals that spill from a kitchen speaker of Violet’s doing. She wipes it clean with a nearby towel and dries her hands.

What’s up?

What's up...

She’ll be gone by morning and Ben doesn’t even know it.

All two boxes of her worldly possessions have already been packed and carried out beneath the cover of sunless mourning hours, stashed away in the trunk of her rusted out two-door Honda Civic without Ben’s knowing because leaving is the right thing to do. Because leaving is what love demands of her. Violet can't possibly stomach the thought of Ben damning his own fate to what's coming for her. She'll leave so he can forget. She'll make the choice so that he doesn’t have to.

“Dance with me,” She prompts softly, nothing but trust in her open palm extended towards him. “If only for a moment.”

No, Ben doesn’t know it yet, but this is what makes goodbyes.

[deficd]

You don’t ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It’s all about survival; it’s all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in…

Nick Hornby, How to Be Good

@kinomorebi ft Violet Calhoun

[kinomorebi]

{ Activity will be sparse and entirely unpredictable until the new year! Consider me on semi-hiatus until then.

Wishing everyone a happy holidays for whatever lights your hearts 💜🤍

[deficd]

The trees have grown from seeds They're planted in my feet, they crack my bones My spine becomes a branch to bend, not break So bend me back again, again, and then (x)

@kinomorebi ft Ikora Veronys

[silverjetsystm]

A black hole with white fire looms behind Violet. Afternoon sunlight, much less the Edison-esque sodium yellow light fixture dangling above their heads, couldn’t penetrate the vantablack void. She putters away. Cash fed to the machine, asking for his name.

Name. Void sing-songs; not an aura, Steven gathers. Been a while since he could see those. Things. Plural (Indeed). “Yes,” he answers a beat too slow. “My name is Steven.” Surname pressed to his hard palate lest he be seen as some vainglorious producer. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ routine. Don’t act like people expect in billionaires is rule #1 for him.

Fog gains tubes. Limbs, larger than a traditional human, larger than Steven is tall, and they are so proud of their height. Brown eyes flash silver crescents, like a cat at night. Head, yes it must be, cranes towards him, wormhole fire staring at him like eyes. Squared off hair on the back of his neck stands on end, Marc’s presence a cool veil in front of him.

[Easy, Marc.] Shadows vibrate and dance like an excited child. [It’s saying hello.] Their protector snorts, pure moonlit suit staring. Jake’s laughter echoes back to front, out their mouth. “I can wait here. Unless you’d rather I-?” They jab a thumb Lockley-like at their corner, “I get out of the way?”

Since she said he was welcome, they are welcome. Under the watchful eyes of….whatever that thing is, they go into what a friend calls ‘idle animation.’ It’s not something they enjoy in public. However, they have a way of going not drawing attention to themselves.

Far away expression checks Steven’s gray Oris Pro Pilot X Caliber 400 watchface for the time. Mechanical engineering winds; they separate Jake from Steven, grow distinct at a speed they could not before Khon.shu rearranged their cranium’s furniture. Jake sits in the back, listening to the front’s radio. Marc haunts his inner landscape of the Midnight Mansion, ready to put himself in the front at the second of danger.

Steven as himself smiles his own smile. “Have you worked here often?” he asked Violet. Left shoulder shrugs, “I haven’t been in before. I find staying put at my office tends to put me in a foul mood come afternoon.”

[kinomorebi]

“Steven.” Spoken softly as it's typed into the machine. She seems to ponder the name, savoring the shape on her tongue as if committing it to memory– as if this interaction would be any different from those in past towns and his name could amount to anything more to her than just a fond memory stashed away for rainy days. It’s only a matter of time before her past catches up to her. A few months if she’s lucky, though usually less. Then she’ll vanish once more. Pack her things and skip town without ever looking back.

Yeah… she’s still working on the not-looking-back part…

Still, Violet smiles, stashes the name somewhere safe anyway, determined to exist simply in moments as they come. “Not at all! In fact, I appreciate the company.” 

Karsys remains as it was; curious, searching, hollow-light eyes filtering through the system's complexities as if looking within. It raises what looks to be a hazy arm and tendril shadows grow outward to form fingers of a hand, mirroring the behavior it has come to learn from observation: a human greeting. It waves gently, smoke in the wind, dissipating into the shadows cast at Violet’s feet before taking its place behind her once more. It seems content for the time being.

Meanwhile, Violet turns on her heel, sure strides leading her back towards the half-dried mug she set down earlier. Ahhh, he’s making small talk to pass the time, she presumes. Honestly? It’s… pleasant. Nice to not be interacted with like she’s some freak outcast, even if that’s precisely what she is.

“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t be quite myself either if I’d been cooped up in an office all day.” Warm smile, bright eyes to rival the sun for fleeting moments such as these. “Not enough windows, I take it?" Strange… does he really not know who she is? Has he really not heard what the locals have already begun whispering about her?

“No, no I haven't worked here for very long.” 

[ Long enough for people to start talking… ] 

“I actually just moved in down the street. Still figuring my way around town-” she pauses, a sheepish smile taking shape, flush of color blooming on her cheeks like moonflower in the crescent night. “-barely even know my way home yet if I’m being honest.” A quiet ring calls her attention away from the admittance and down to the small container that's been freshly placed at the bakery counter. “If you have any local spots to recommend-” cradling the container in one hand and extending it towards him with a soft smile. “-I’m all ears.”

@silverjetsystm

[kinomorebi]

i'm starting to wonder if anything will ever mean anything to me again. (( ilya for violet! ))

"Meaning is... everywhere, in everything. It belongs to you, Ilya. You just have to find it. Breathe it to life."

Lungs empty to become one with wind's breath. Violet looks to the night skies as if they may hold answers, spirit reaching for stars that glitter like hope in iris reflections, but finds only a mouthful of stardust. She chokes on the constellations and comes down crashing. Knows that hopelessness he's feeling all too well...

"Tell me, what shape does a soul take when it hungers?"

Quiet. Shoulder to shoulder with him in the firelight glow but never quite touching, eyes fixed on radiant flecks of amber color spitting fury where starlight abandons.

"The knife that bleeds the life? Or the hand at the hilt pushing it to do so?"

@deficd

[protectmypeople]

The laugh echoed through the climbing branches, it melted the tension held between his shoulders. A soothing balm to worn knuckles, punctured ribs, and a scarred thigh. Toying, teasing, playing. A shift in her demeanor, provoking a stirring to his true nature- one that craved a challenge, a fight, a worthy opponent. His smirk grew with intensity, practically smiling at her as she lifted his arm. Even he could still see the muscle protruding from beneath his sleeves, few weeks on bedrest won't eliminate everything.

Bellamy scoffs, rolling his eyes, "I am strong enough to put your ass on the mat." He solidifies his point by capturing her wrist, taking deliberate steps towards her. Boots finding purchase in the uneven terrain. A solid tree is what he pushes the back of her wrist into, thigh protesting at the show of force. Wrist still clutched in his grasp, he pins it above her head- leaving an allowance of a foot between them. A small bell of warning rang in his mind- you could scare her. The piece of him that longed for provocation, the antagonizing nature of his being overtook any and all concern.

"Looks like I've managed to noodle you to a tree." He said, a self-satisfied grin across his lips, curls falling into his vision- long overdue for a trim. The pain is still there, thumping, yet numbed. Bellamy releases his hold, a warmth spreading across his chest. There should have been some caution to his actions, yet medical isolation had proven far more lonesome than he had anticipated. Thigh stiff, an ache chattering up his bones. Pushing himself too soon will put him right back in that cot. A chuckle leaves his lips, "Yea.. I don't think you'd do much better than me- even like this." He shrugs, now convinced- he can most definitely teach her how to spar.

He leans in, blocking out the trees, the dirt, the wind which whispers between them. A secret, a plea, reserved for the savior, and saved. "So.. Trust me."

[kinomorebi]

Gena does not pick him apart in the same way a lion tears apart its kill– violent and ravenous– but more like a fungal blooming within the remains of a corpse. Slowly, intimately, and with delicate precision. She consumes all that goes forgotten. All that hides beneath the surface of decaying intention. Nothing is missed. Nothing is wasted. 

"Yeah yeah," dismissive in tone, "all this barking and I'm beginning to wonder if there's any real bite in you." Gena almost looks bored with his antics, even if fascination is what fuels her teasing.

Curious... He’s different when he’s not on death’s door– different when speaking to someone he believes to be harmless. Gena can’t help but wonder if it comes from a sense of self-preservation. Or perhaps its pride that pulls his strings. Either way, her curiosity leaves offense forgotten, and when he steps forward to force her back into a nearby tree, she lets him. 

"Easy, Bellamy..." Voice low and hushed in the shrinking distance between them, half purr, half warning. "Don't push yourself when we both know you're still recovering." Her eyes dart to his lips, noting the infuriating subtlety of his smirk amidst nuanced behavior. He's just desperate for provocation, isn't he? "This-" tugging halfheartedly at his grip on her pinned wrist "-doesn't prove anything. Other than the fact that you clearly lack impulse control." Her hand slides down to his chest when he releases her wrist, settling right beneath his collarbone where she pats twice as if dismissing his request for trust entirely. Gone with the wind whispers she never speaks. "Besides, Felix would have my head if you worsened your injuries under my watch."

@protectmypeople