❝ i’m not … entirely sure where this came from but maybe we should … keep it aside so no harm comes to it, ❞ by ‘it’ he means the egg carefully cradled in his arms, as if it were a newborn baby. it would be easier to narrow it down if the outside of the shell had any indication as to what species of pokémon it belonged to in particular but … they’re entirely at a loss &͟. though there’s no way @ofinflorescence would be able to come to any possible conclusion himself, what with just how many different creatures they watched over at the daycare they figured it was worth a shot to have him inspect it. ❝ i wouldn’t want it to hatch prematurely. ❞ ♡!
The mountains rose in white-capped succession to touch the sky itself, framing the faultless blue vibrantly. From the overhanging shelf of stone they and Akiko had made their encampment in, Sypha had finished bundling their bedroll and removed the talismans that had rendered them completely invisible and warm, evidenced by the dry, snowless border that gave their location away. And yet, it wouldn't matter as the two were ready to disembark to the next town, their next quarry.
Picking their way down the rocky mountainside that sloped gently into the embrace tree boughs that densely populated the river valley, the wizard considered the map unfolded in their hands. From what they could see, it was at least five miles to the next village and the demon rampaging through its countryside, their next mark. It was an unusual way to make a living, but it was steady and plentiful work.
"Should we stop for breakfast soon? I'm not hungry yet, but I don't mind either way."
...Where the hell was it? The cacophony? The sugar rush of color, the kaleidoscope of sound, the dizzying bends and turns of Elation's labyrinth? That's what he was looking for. With all the greed of an addict undergoing withdrawal, as tendrils of mist swirled about his feet, the velvety darkness swallowed all color in shadow and Clear felt a swell of indignation rise within him. Where was it? Where was the tilting and whirling, the highs and delirium that was the electric lamp he longed to incincerate himself upon like the highest form of bliss. Yet, as the embrace of darkness and fog inexorably parted to reveal two people seated at a low table--a window into a family dining room--Clear found himself balking. No, no--this was way too personal. Way too deep, but in the wrong direction. He should leave, turn and not look back--
Yet, there he was, rooted in place and utterly transfixed. Staring guiltily like he'd witnessed a murder of his own doing.
[ needy. ] sender pulls receiver into their lap, desperate and breathless, kissing them like it's not enough. ( from lierre. hi, whoops, i'm sorry for him— <3 )
It's been so long since they've seen each other. Too long to make the current moment charged with so much tension that fleeting touches were driving them both insane. Zarina's gaze lingers on her beloved, adoring and attracted to everything he does — how he speaks, what he does, and where he goes. Eyes would become partially glazed over with want and desperate need to have him close; lips push together in a soft pout when he gives her a smile. Silverette wants nothing more than have those lips on her skin, exploring every part of her exposed and hidden skin, she want him to moan into her mouth when he— fuck.
Business is business. It's not just their team that is on their meeting and Zarina has to be cordial and attentive, giving out the reports and ensuring that everything's been handled well. Money exchange, documents exchange, handshake exchanges. It's been all business and no pleasure, but finally everything was coming to an end and everyone will leave this place. It's just a hotel where they all stay over, which meant that they all would go their separate ways once everyone leaves.
And once they do? Lierre doesn't want time to tug her closer to him, capturing her lips with his own. He settles comfortably on the luxurious bed and the smell of his cologne makes Zarina moan into their kiss, pressing her body closer to him. Her chest against his, her hand in his dark locks, and her tongue pressing against his to deepen this passionate moment.
Red lipstick leaves smudges on his lips and Zarina straddles him more comfortably by breaking the kiss for a moment, not even a word exchanged between them as they gasp for air as she made herself comfortable. The thief's hands are on her hips, then her ass, squeezing the buttocks and making her lean forward against him, forcing his face to press against her clothes chest as she groaned softly. Lucky for them that the skirt was already tossed away, leaving her in black tights she wants him to tear apart for her.
Desperation takes over when he flips her over, back flat against the soft mattress with Lierre not wasting a second to kiss her again. Zarina responds immediately, feeling how he moved to make himself comfortable between her legs. Her hands aren't waiting either, going for the buttons on his shirt and trying to undo them as fast as possible. They move together, basking in each other's embrace and shared warmth as hands continue to touch, to grope, to tug clothes. Every separation brings out a dissatisfied sound from the depths of their throats, mutually exchanged because they have to breathe and oxygen is a cockblocking bitch for not letting them melt into each other.
"I need you inside me," she whispers hoarsely when he starts to kiss down her neck before shrugging his shirt off to toss it away. "Condom's in—"
"Your bra," he chuckles breathlessly against the juncture 'tween her neck and shoulder. He wasn't wrong, even if it was uncomfortable to hide it there but to know that Lierre was fully aware? It made her smile with satisfaction, watching how he'd have less patience with her shirt and got the last two buttons to snap before reaching for her bra and unhooking the front. A satisfying click and release of that embrace of fabric around her breasts. It exposes the hidden condom packs…
"Two?"
"Yeah."
Zarina watches him set those away for a moment before looking back at her, breathing deeply underneath him.
"It won't be enough… but," she explains, reaching up to cup his face. "Got several more in my purse, but not now," her tug down is followed without an inquiry as she kisses him again. Another lewd yet passionate kiss that mixed tongues and saliva, angling heads to try to make the kiss even deeper before they have to separate. "Need you… Right now, Li."
At the inquiring look, she sighs.
"My tights can be changed. Just… I can't wait any longer, please. I need you."
She wants him to fuck her just like this, still not fully bare. Partially clothed sex isn't new to them, but right now, she doesn't wish to wait.
he knows how ridiculous it sounds. not only is it absurd for a luofu vidyadhara to not be able to swim, but for the reincarnation of the imbibitor lunae it’s unheard of in their many, many, many lifetimes. in my interpretation of luofu vidyadhara, their very biology adjusts to their surroundings through both alchemical and natural means. they are, tiny little adjustments to evolution over the years, unrelated to the core being of a vidyadhara which has been preserved over millions of lifetimes and suspended while long remains in their stasis. a vidyadhara will always be draconic in blood, long life, capable of conjuring cloudhymn magic, and lay unfertilised eggs. the vidyadhara of the luofu will always have an increased lung capacity, know the tragic arias of their race, have the capability to grow webs between their fingers and toes, as well as grow scales beneath the water, emerge as most have from the lunarescent depths ready to call the ocean their home. dan heng was extracted from lunarescent depths as soon as he’d hatched, and up until the moment he was exiled from the luofu he had never willingly gone into the water.
one of the memories that remained with dang heng during his time in the shackling prison was the memory of where cloud piercer, and the bracer were. it was hidden in an underwater grotto far, far, far beneath the surface, and compelled to reach them in order to find answers for dan feng’s sins, dan heng dived to get them. he did not have the lung capacity of a vidyadhara trained, since birth, to dive. traumatised into his human disguise, with his cloudhymn trapped behind a mental barrier, he did not have the capability to breath underwater. he dived a total of three times to get those items back, damn near drowning during that final attempt, and since then, dan heng has refused to enter deep water. this aversion to it, this need to make sure his re-entrance and refamiliarising to water is a quiet, and private acquaintance is a reminder of his otherness to other vidyadhara. this alienation from his own race where once he had been revered ( conditionally ) still stings and makes him insecure in a way he cannot properly convey. though he has been scorned by his own race, and knows he should not seek their validation, there is a part of him that will always wish this wasn’t the case, that mourns the chance to experience his own culture, this belonging that should be his by birthright. this insecurity manifests still in research about his own race, hopes of interaction outside of the luofu, to witness culture outside of those who have only known of dan feng as a sinner, but it will never feel like enough.
i think about how dan heng has never held an elder’s hand to his forehead as a sign of greeting, how the way he came to learn cloudhymn was through the most violent means instead of surrounded by peers, how he had never learned to harmonise in a vidyadhara aria with other voices before. to be so alienated from his own culture might not hurt so much if he didn’t have dan feng’s memories, or the memories of the imbibitor lunae that came before to remind him what it had been like. even if dan feng had still kept a wide berth from most of his kind, he was still included. he did not grow up in complete isolation. he did not go mad with loneliness to the point where the memories of his past selves were the only comfort he had after counting the black stone bricks of his cell over and over and over again ( 347 on the east wall, 352 on the north, and south, 352.5 on the west, and 248 on the ceiling. ) for this, he resented him. and for this, dan heng grows awkward whenever asked about his race, his species, because for him, it’s as if he’s been looking at his kind from behind a glass wall for his entire life.
while not used to being stumbled upon during the creation of his artworks, oz is never fond of the risk of being reported for it. with a hasty scribble on his notepad, he hands her a note, which reads; ' don't touch the display until it's done setting in. you'll wreck the alignment of everything. ' oz gives her a somewhat impatient look, orange eyes narrowed a bit before he returns to his aether editing of the wall near the oti mall on penacony. another note is written on his notepad, and he half-heartedly hands it to her, before promptly returning to his work. ' and if you're thinking about reporting me, do me a favor and don't. it won't do anyone any good. ' ( to eden, from oz. <3 )
unprompted. || always accepting
─「エデン」─ the unique display had drawn her attention even from a distance away, and that was why she had came over to take a closer look at what it was. she was expecting the stranger who she assumed as responsible for this to SCOLD her for getting too close, though when he immediately grabbed his notepad and handed her a note accompanied by a look, she blinked. a realization hit her. he couldn't talk, huh ...
side-stepping to the side, being extremely careful not to make contact to his work, AUREATE orbs watched in fascination as his hands worked the magic of the piece before them. her head tilted to the side once more when another note was passed on, albeit a little hesitantly.
" why would i report you ? this looks amazing ! did you do this all by yourself ? is it almost finish ? can i stay and watch ? i promise i won't touch it ! " the spark in her amber hues was like that of an excited puppy. despite not having a tail, you could almost imagine one WAGGING enthusiastically behind her. there was a little bounce in her demeanor when she gazed between him and his unfinished work.
the way his fingers moved reminded her a little of what silver wolf did with her ability. she'd ask more details, but she wanted to see the finish piece first.
@ofinflorescence. || mostly not plotted starter for tseng.
"good evening, your majesty. king li is currently meeting with someone," vess spoke coolly, but he bowed his head for a moment in greeting. "you are free to leave a message with me, if it's important." what should have been a sign of respect to a guest king in his majesty's palace, instead held an air of mistrust — though, that is to be expected of a private guard. when in a position like vesper's, you learn that no one is to be trusted except for your charge; in this case, that was king li himself. high caution must be held with such an important role, and no other ruler, monarch or god or otherwise, was free from suspect. "i will make sure he hears what you have to say."
it's whispered, almost pathetically so. the man stands before clear, hands unsteadily yet desperately gripping the memokeeper's shoulders to keep him here. no longer a fool, no longer a thief, no longer even lierre... he's just li now. the vulnerability of it all terrifies him, after having finally broken himself, worked himself into a stupor before finally crumbling to metaphorical dust to be free from aha's favor, crashing and burning with the utmost grace to give the aeons one final show.
it's obvious that he's a husk of whoever he used to be, having been practically forced to discard every mask he's ever worn before. it's scary, the idea of being so seen, so viscerally naked before the man who could have seen all of him regardless... but it's all he has left. he doesn't know whether such a statement is comforting or harrowing. it leaves him with a feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach. grip tightens just a bit as he tries to stifle whatever emotions might be spilling out, to little success. he hates crying at all, let alone in front of someone.
" ... please. "
( from lierre, masked fool verse. <3 )
"The hell're you--"
Clear's exclamation was clipped short at the clangor of Lierre's daggers dropping with defeat to the ground, time seeming to span interminably as they'd spent so much of it in fierce attrition, the spike of adrenaline and a thrashing heart the sweltering sea that Clear had latched on to like a parasite, losing himself upon the roiling ocean of emotion that began fair and foul. And perhaps that was the problem, wasn't it? Clear had behaved exactly as an addict such as him tended to, selfishly plunging into the wellspring of what was oftentimes a source of disarray and torment. And the consequence was knowing. To peel past flesh and bone and reach the nebulous soul, illuminated by its light in a manner that few could. It created a closeness that those of flesh and blood rarely broached upon, hampered by their mortal coils that failed to become closer than skin-deep.
It shouldn't have surprised him. In the nadir of someone's life, even the one dragging them into ruin became the closest at their loneliest moment.
The sword that had been brandished and wielded in Clear's halting grip tapped the ground, then dropped altogether as it dissipated in a cloud of crystal fractals.
No words sprang to his tongue when Lierre's hands came to brace on his shoulders, warmth permeating his form from the point of contact. The illusion was shattered, the show was over. The same sickening feeling of dread that stemmed from Lierre spread through him like dark ink in a well of water, and he found himself at a loss. Clear sighed and gathered Lierre in his arms, invoking Memoria to provide the illusion of warmth an entity's body couldn't naturally produce. Yet, he felt hollow. What now? The mirror was shattered and the smoke was dispelled, dispersing the folly that had dominated their interactions since it had begun. Yet, even Clear was at a loss for what needed to be done except remain there and hold Lierre, another illusion.
He had no words, no way of reassuring. Unsure of what to say until another mirror shattered and it began again.
