Nocturnal

I've brought a big bat, I'm all ready, you see. Now my troubles are going to have Troubles with me. Resident of Pelago Islands. Funds: 65,960G | Debt: 0G

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

black coffee (skye&gale)

[noctemises]

stedfaststars

“I don’t have a liquor license.” Gale muses, although he doubts that will stop Skye from insisting he keeps some behind the counter just for him when the store actually opens.

The motif of the store was like a tale being revealed piece by piece to those who knew the epic classic. Every polished iron skull or mournful bird carved from the bark of a walnut tree recalling a tale of two lovers and predictions about their fate yet to come.

There isn’t disgust, a look so easily coerced from Skye’s gaze, lingering behind long pale eyelashes. The brew was satisfactory, days of testing blend after blend and changing water pressure and fiddling with machines the less than tech-savvy Gale found himself struggling with was not for naught.

“I glanced over the list of recommended bakeries… and I have no interest in serving food.” It wasn’t a segway into another line of thought, but a close-ended statement that Gale punctuated with a lingering stare at the rim of Skye’s cup- slowly moving to pry it from cold ivory hands and take a sip before returning it to its rightful owner once more.

An indirect kiss, premeditating many to come.

“I am ready to open after the next full moon.”

The sound Skye makes is more of a hushed tsk of disregard over his worries regarding licenses and legality. That’s never stopped him before, and if the look Gale casts him is anything to go by, it’s that they’re both well aware he’s not about to start following the rules now-- investment or not, the concept is laughable to a kleptomaniac with a habit for pinching valuables.

“That’s a shame.”

Gale doesn’t care about revenue, he only cares about his coffee and his oh-so-indeterminable plans, food be damned.

Maybe. Maybe he cares some about Skye, too, or maybe it’s a farce to get what he wants. Does it matter anymore? Skye can feel himself being wound around his finger in too-tight knots, those same knots that constrict in his stomach as Gale kisses the edge of his cup, so close and yet so far away.

“I’m ready to arrive after the next full moon.”

He had plans for the full moon. They both had plans for such an occasion, that much is for certain.

Skye draws a long sip from his glass, never once breaking eye-contact. If he could see the dark that dwells underneath his teal irises, so be it. Skye wouldn’t be the first to turn away.

“And I’ll be certain to bring plenty of my special ingredient with me.”

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

black coffee (skye&gale)

[noctemises]

stedfaststars

I thought you knew me.

Gale would argue that he knew Skye better than anyone else. Knew the poison in his veins that he so amusingly called blood, or how small smiles hid ill intentions.

He knew about the crawl space in the basement.

He knew about the dirty laundry in the hamper.

He knew where those ornamental skulls really came from.

“Black is your favorite color.” Gale answered simply, tucking his braid behind his ear.

At Skye’s behest he had gone out of his way to source quality ingredients. Expensive organic beans and glacial spring water from several islands over. The result was acidic with a lot of depth, bright and almost fruity. A lighter roast, more caffeine, but brewed slowly so it was deep and dark.

“It’s called an Albino Necromancer. The coffee… it is what the farmer called a blonde roast.”

How sweet of him to remember something as dull and ordinary as a favourite colour. The smile on his lips hides a thousand words, a thousand lies, and Skye can only peek in through the surface and scrape away just the slightest hint of truth.

His jaw tightens. It feels like he’s wiring himself shut from the inside. Is it Gale? Or is it... another reason?

The look he passes his long-haired boyfriend from across the counter is bland. It’s all he can do not to bristle like a porcupine.

“I feel so humbled.” He mumbles under his breath, drawing his cup between both of his pale palms and bringing the edge up to his lips...

But he’s made even more unsettled by how it tastes... relatively good. For coffee. It could still use a special something, and he can’t help the shudder that crawls across his spine as he realizes just what it means to think it’s missing a part of something that would make it whole. Like a heart, or a soul. 

How you drag these feelings out of me, I’ll never know. Cruel puppet.

“It could use more alcohol.”

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

black coffee (skye&gale)

@noctemises​ Gale hadn’t opened the shop yet, much to Skye’s chagrin it seemed. Practically forcing his roommate to buy him a coffee shop and then not opening it for nearly two months had to be beyond infuriating, but Gale frankly couldn’t be bothered to care in the slightest how Skye felt about it. Today they were holding a private tasting menu, Gale showing his only investor (Skye) the menu he had come up with for his soon to open eatery and hopefully get his blessing.

A single cup of black coffee was placed before the albino, Gale staring sleepily from behind the counter with a simple black apron on.

“That’s it… that’s the entire menu.” He sounded too confident. Smug, almost.

[noctemises]

It was an unwise investment. If he’d have invested in another shop or company, perhaps he’d have made his money back twofold by now, or perhaps he’d be getting royalties instead of royally screwed out of his affairs. The money he put into Gale, at this point, bordered despicable; yet he continues to throw coins at him like a blind patron at the world’s worst brothel.

“No cream?”

Knowing his companion, which he’d happily say he does, there’s a pretentious reason behind not giving him those options. Like, it’d taint the natural flavor of the beans, or something equally vapid. All this fanfare for a bean. Why couldn’t he have opened a curry shop...

“”No sugar?”

The spoon he uses to stir his coffee makes a faerie-like tink sound, the only sound aside for his longing sigh and Gale’s soft breathing stiffened by the Raven Roast’s walls. He was always careful when being offered gifts from his companion, as he never knew what was waiting for him after the first sip... poison or charity.

“I thought you knew me.”

[noctemises]

All Hollow’s Eve || Open

Halloween; the only time of year he’s likely to celebrate without pointless pandering to tradition. This is the time of witches and sorcery, of curses and candy, of tricks and treats. He’s determined to get his treats, and if he needs to play some tricks to get it, so be it.

Hell touches Earth more closely on this day compared to the rest of the year, as if it were a gnarled arm reaching toward the mortal plane with claws desperate to grip and tear. Children in masks wandered the streets looking for hand-outs, and while the tradition stagnated, the purpose always stayed the same: tricking demons and lost souls into thinking you’re one of them, lest you find yourself possessed by something less than human.

That’s how he finds himself, standing in the middle of a blood ritual he’s erected in the forest, antlers adorning his skull (of which he’d acquired from the largest stag he could find on such short notice). The black cloak that drapes across his albino skin is like a veil, shielding him from the fire’s embers that flick toward him as if begging to touch his corium, to lick the epidermis that shields such a blackened core.

He only feels a little bad about those goats heads he’s procured around the bonfire. It was clean, sanitary work-- this isn’t the first time he’s made a burning pyre for the primordial deities, and someone has to sacrifice an animal or seven in order to keep them appeased-- but even with his tinge of lingering guilt, these goats were for a higher purpose. A better purpose, one could say.

The centerpiece, the black goat’s head that stares vacantly into his eyes, sits behind his burning pyre with that same glazed-over look the others have. It was a beautiful creature, made more-so by the death that touched its graceful face and beckoned its soul into the unknown.

“βαφη μητȢς”

As each letter falls from his humbled tongue, the sweet voice of a lover, the flames that reach toward the sky in flickered kisses grows black; the colour of night and sin and deliciousness.

This would certainly be a bad time to get interrupted, wouldn’t it.

[noctemises]

Returning from hiatus.

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

thursday morning (skye&gale)

[noctemises]

stedfaststars

There isn’t any doubt in Gale’s mind that Skye wouldn’t bat an eyelash at the thought of turning him into an especially stylish lampshade, but alas Gale would have seen such a future in the stars, in his coffee grounds, even in the wind itself.

He was safe, for now, and within reason.

The touch of Skye’s hand on his neck had the weight of a lover but the intention of a knife. No matter how Skye sung praise about his physical traits and would bounce from withdrawn and seedy to needy and restless, there was no hiding the true nature of their relationship.

Teetering on the point of a needle, ready for either of them to combust and rid themselves of the other– but even when nearing that point something would draw them back together again, in this circumstance… a coffee shop.

“I’d like it done quickly.”

A demand from someone with no right to to ask for anything, spoken between kisses bordering on the obscene. He had no doubts that Skye would be able to see through his empty actions, but he also knew that these actions no matter how empty, were something the degenerate soaked into his skin like bitter vitamins.

Lips dance, Gale’s hand finding the small of Skye’s back beneath layers of blanket and frill, cold hands resting there firmly as nails dug into soft flesh far harder than necessary.

“Be sure to spare no expense.”

If only all mornings were like this, ushering in the sun while playing tonsil hockey. It would certainly make them less of a burden, even if he’s feeling sluggish and tired, driving his tongue down his throat for the sake of it rather than the expectation. He’ll reap his rewards, no matter how empty and fruitless they seem to be.

If only Skye had a dime for every time Gale made demands of him.

As nails dig deeper into the curve of his spine, which seems to be his weapon of choice, Skye’s hand relents on its position and slides toward his chest instead. There should be a heartbeat there, but all that remains is the cold and hollow.

He pats him as if a friendly reassurance. For the first time, Skye is the one who stops, parting half-way through a smooch with his blanket train following close behind.

“We’ll see.”

Turning to face him one last time before retiring to the bedroom for his morning face mask, Skye bites back a sleepy yawn, shoulders heaving with his exhale.

“The offer is much more appealing when you beg.”

With that, he returns to his apple scented masks, extensive collection of hair care products, and all of his waiting exfoliating lotions.

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

thursday morning (skye&gale)

[noctemises]

stedfaststars

“Absolutely not.” Gale spits out without giving Skye so much as a moment to catch his breath after speaking.

Asking for things wasn’t in his nature. As an arcane force he felt justified in taking what he needed without leaving too much of a mark in his wake, if anything he thought Skye *should* be more than eager at the opportunity to have any kind of joint venture between the two of them.

Gale was sure that the equivalent for the spry young mortals on the island would be… getting a small shared pet, like a hamster or a particularly smooth rock.

Instead, he rose to his feet, well-rested and caffeinated, looking as night and day from his plucky roommate as always (albeit in a different way than usual). Braving the gap between them lips met lips, not for the first time and not for the last, but missing the vim and vigor of the past.

Soft, genuine, underhanded.

“Thank you.”

His eyes almost roll back into his head. It was a good attempt, and it’s awfully bold of him to assume Skye would jump through hoops without so much as common courteousness. That was the problem with him: always expecting, without giving anything in return.

He supposes it’s what makes them so alike.

Just as he prepares to say something snarky, Gale is rising from his chair and closing the distance between them. It’s nothing like the distance he feels when Gale kisses his lips, gentle and emotionally withdrawn.

Now, why are you being so closed off, loverboy? Is it because you’re hiding something?

Gale’s awfully shitty at hiding ulterior motives.

His thank you doesn’t have the same gratitude he was looking for, and he knows it’s because Gale felt the transferal of their positions in hierarchy for a moment. It doesn’t matter to him, ultimately, as Skye places a warm hand across Gale’s neck. There’s no pressure there, just a gentle hold, loving and threatening in the same breath.

“You’re welcome.”

Skye’s lips meet the other man’s with the same soft, feather-light touch, As sweet as it is, there’s no emotion inside it, an intentional maneuver on his part. It says all he’s not saying out loud: I know where you sleep.

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

thursday morning (skye&gale)

[noctemises]

stedfaststars

Although it wasn’t poisoned with substance or magic it was definitely spoiled with intentions, Gale choosing to bite back any scathing remark with a sip of scalding coffee instead, staring out the window as if something fascinating had happened to take his gaze away from the very dowdy looking man before him.

How it wounded him to hold all comments about the absolute state of his mortal shell, especially considering what care he normally took in grooming and preening.

“So suspicious. I cannot offer… sustenance to my roommate?”

Absolutely not. Leaving his own lips it sounded strange, as Gale was not one to give charity, especially not to Skye. Turning in his seat he straightened his back and tipped back his shoulders, trying to look as earnest as possible while making a beyond ridiculous request.

“Buy me a coffee shop. By the cup I have given to you, you owe me a debt… and my interest is quite high… thus… my payment due is a cafe of my own.”

A pause, a stare, a sip.

“… I will not be opening the floor for questions.”

The look of bland disinterest Skye casts him from over his coffee says it all. Not an ounce of him believes Gale would do something altruistic for him, and judging by the way he seems to stare vacantly at the scene outside the window, it’s going to be a request that’s all too easy to deny.

Gale is two for two in unexpected surprises today, and it’s barely been ten minutes since he’d crawled out of bed. Of all things he could’ve proposed, he asks for a coffee shop. A testament to his vanity.

This must be why people decide to become sugar daddies. The power placed in his hands by such a simple thing like asking for monetary help... Skye inhales deeply through his nose, as though he’s savoring the smell of coffee in the morning, but he’s really relishing the feeling of control and superiority placed openly into his hands.

He can phrase it in whatever silly way he wants. The bottom line is the bottom line.

“... say please.”

Is he really entertaining the thought? It’s not like he doesn’t have the money to buy him a plot of land. The question is just how determined Gale is to get his prize.

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

thursday morning (skye&gale)

@noctemises

Cohabitation was a tenuous beast, something that required active effort to remain tamed. Neglect would cause all manner of issues to arise, causing rifts between two people no matter if fate or circumstance had brought them together.  Most mornings began in strife. Petty squabbles and heated arguments, however today the sky was grey and rain pattered against the arched window in a soothing melody, Gale sipping at his sixth cup of coffee before eight in the morning. Usually when Skye would enter in the morning Gale would begin to scathe him for something he’d done either the day or the month before, seemingly at random and spurred forth by whimsy… but today he conjured a mug and poured the man a cup of coffee himself. A peace offering, held out between tan fingers for Skye to take…

… but at what cost?

[noctemises]

Daylight peeks in through the blinds, warmth tickling Skye’s face. In one moment, the world is dark and peaceful, and in the next he’s straining to see past a white glow straining into closed eyes. The worst time of day, made even more terrible by the fact that he’s only had three hours of rest.

And he thought he had an insomnia problem. Gale is up bright and early by the time Skye gathers the will to slide out of bed, blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders, dark circles accentuating the bright teal hue of his irises. In an unexpected move, he’s offered a cup of coffee wordlessly after sluggishly entering the kitchen. Tired eyes blink back at the mug, processing the gift slowly, pale fingers grasping the edge of the cup and gingerly taking it from Gale’s grasp.

It must be poisoned. At least he’ll die energized.

With no hesitation whatsoever, Skye brings the edge to his lips and takes a long sip. Of course he’s wary of offerings from sadists, but he’s just masochistic enough to play into it without thinking twice or looking this gift horse in the mouth.

“What do you want?” Getting straight to the point, isn’t he.

[arcusxx]

[sweetandsaltyminx]

Visit Original Link

[featherumbrellas-deactivated201]

[noctemises]

Hiatus End

[noctemises]

◈

◈ What is your ideal relationship like?

“Warmth is too easy. Half the time it’s fake.”

“I want my love violent, passionate, merciless. I like my women with fire in their eyes, and I like my men unafraid to put me in my place. Compliance is boring, the meek don’t interest me. Anger is beautiful. It’s the only thing I can feel, raw, in its entirety.”

The kind of person who wouldn’t flinch, being touched by his unclean hands. His lifestyle isn’t for those with a weak stomach.

[noctemises]

❅ When was the last time you cried, and why?

Inky black miasma pouring from his lips, his nose, his eyes. Teeth falling out into the sink, rearranging for the new. The incandescent pain, followed by the agonizingly beautiful burn of power.

Possession sick, he calls it. When the body tries to rid itself of an invading virus. What happens when the virus is attached to your soul?

“I’ve never cried in my life. I had my tear ducts cauterized for my thirteenth birthday.”

[noctemises]

Activity Check 06/07

[-0G] Living in a home. [-2000G] Commuter’s Pass.

[+2500G] Boss of Black Rose Salon & Parlor (+Menu) [+1000G] Owner of Black Rose Salon & Parlor [+1500G] Employee of Black Rose Salon & Parlor [+1000G] Employee of The Sorcery Emporium

Total: 65,960G New Total: 69,960G

[stedfaststars-deactivated201912]

rings of bone (skye&gale)

[noctemises]

stedfaststars

Gale rolls his eyes at the dramatics, pretending as if he isn’t feeling just as squeamish and dare he say terrified in his own right. "Unless you plan on bleeding out and dying cutting your hand off will do you no good, the ring is cursed.”

Slamming back the rest of his now tepid water he wraps one of the soft sheets around his waist and crawls off of the oversized bed, walking to the window and closing the thick blinds so they can hide this dilemma from the world for a moment longer.

Within the dim parlor the sheets drags behind Gale like the train of a wedding dress, glowing nearly as bright as the winding white tattoos laced into dark skin.

“This is your fault. I can feel it in the bile in my throat.” He turns, giving Skye an icy side-eye as he attempts to yank the ring off his own finger, all for naught. “Witch.”

The sound Skye makes is more of a bark than it is a laugh, amused at the concept of the ring being a curse. Funnily enough, that's what it feels like in this moment, watching Gale parade around his bedroom like a ghost within his walls.

"Unless I somehow convinced you through parlor tricks and simple coercion, binding spells are a little beyond my pay grade."

He can do lots of things. He can raise the dead, absorb the life from the living, he can even walk beyond the halls of death and fish souls from purgatory as easy as breathing, but he's never been interested in binding spells. 

Skye is not to blame for this, not completely. He wants to make that apparent right now: he's not exactly overjoyed about this, either. 

"Sweetheart." He croons from across the room, like the beckoning tone of a lover. "Whatever we did, we'll figure it out. Come back to bed. Stop pacing the room like a starving wolf."