Inari & Apollo / Moon Festival
Inari’s pale hands smooth down the deep golds and reds of Apollo’s yukata, standing back and smiling. He certainly looked handsome, and it complimented his wide shoulders, the slope of his waist. He hummed appreciatively, leaning in to kiss him softly. “No matter what form, you will always look handsome in a yukata,” Inari says sweetly, kissing his temple, and the apple of his collarbone. He takes Apollo’s hand then, guiding him out onto the street, “have you encountered Chang’e before? She owns the planetarium.” An arctic fox walks on the opposite side of Inari as they walk towards the festival, whose yukata was as silver as the moon shining above him. Inari’s silver hair was now slightly longer, tickling his neck. Today, Inari had pinned the front part back with a clip. His fringe was frustrating him now. His ears and one of his tails were out too, as they usually were on special events. He didn’t have to hide them on mount phoenix, and especially not today. He slowly links his fingers with Apollo’s, sliding his fingers inbetween his. It was comforting in its familiarity; over a millennia of holding this hand. Inari smiled to himself, remembering that when they had met, Apollo’s hands were a little smaller. Now, they were about the same, and fit together snug. Inari pats his tummy, “I am famished for mooncakes. But I do hope there is raw meat, somewhere.” @mpxapollo