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peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
goldmods) wrote in peacockstop2025-09-15 09:00 pm
Entry tags:
TDM 011
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
We are thrilled to announce that the Golden Peacock will be embracing autumn with a special outing. Current and new guests are invited to join us for a refreshing outdoor experience where participants can unplug, unwind, and connect with nature. During this time, all Watches will be disabled to the most basic functions (texting, calls, checking chip account) in order to encourage guests to disconnect.
Please look forward to two weeks of finding yourself amongst the trees. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a fan-CAMP-stic time. 】
CAMPING
GETTING OFF THE GRID
As the resort moves into what it claims is autumn, the days grow shorter. The projected sun in the Vale sets in the afternoon, after which a faint chill falls. Then there’s the most excessive transformation of all – a portion of the Vale has transformed into a campground complete with a scenic lake, seemingly overnight. Statues nearby have been dressed up with flannel jackets and suspenders. Folksy banjo fills the air without any discernible source.
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!
HOME ON THE RANGE
Welcome to the Peacock Campgrounds! Nicknamed the Stomping Grounds by long-standing guests. Rustic and right off a sparkling lake, guests will find everything they need to live in the wilderness. Staff have expertly set up fire pits, benches, hammocks, and a wooden shed to act as a tool depository. There's even an outhouse, which is a real novelty to many of the long-standing guests. Do they just... squat over that hole and do their business? How wild!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!
ACTIVITIES
TWO WEEKS OF ROUGHING IT
Camping can't be all about survival. Where's the fun in that? Before 'leaving', the staff arrange activities and events for guests to enjoy. A wooden bulletin board outlines times for group hikes, camping experiences, and wilderness delights. Adirondack chairs line the edge of the lake and a few tire swings hang over the water, tied to strong tree branches. For the first week and a half the weather is pleasant and sunny. Perfect for camping.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.
HOWLING
CALL OF THE WILD
Temperatures drop drastically at night as the camping excursion nears its end. Nights become so chilly that morning dew frosts over, crunching beneath guest feet. Every day the light and its warmth set a little bit earlier. Staff remain elusive and do not provide warmer blankets or clothes for guests, leaving them to cuddle for warmth or find other ways to sleep comfortably during nightly cold snaps.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: altered states; eyes (descriptions only, incl. eye injury); exhibitionism; hunting (incl. hunting fantasy creatures); orgies; public sex; survival; temperature play; tentacles; transformation; violence
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
no subject
In Stelle's defense, there's a lot of pale half-naked lean beef running around, she's becoming immune, and additionally, she's been zoning out into the fire for some time, her mind far away, even as she goes through the motions of acknowledging another's presence.
The clatter of firewood brings her back, and her eyes travel up from that, and up, and— ]
Phainon!
[ Her voice, often subdued even when at her most exclamatory, is about as loud as it gets, in fact it almost startles her, but she's not worried about that, she's on her feet, graceful as a newborn giraffe as she extricates herself from her bundled up sleeping bag, trips on the threshold of her tent, and almost literally throws herself at Phainon.
It's like hitting a wall and she's never been happier to throw her arms around one. ]
I can't believe you're here.
[ It's mumbled against him, wherever her face has ended up. ]
did you just animal crossing new horizons me? in front of my salad???
In short order, that embrace is all but crushing. She speaks, and Phainon's chest shudders against her with a laugh. ]
I would say the same, partner, [ his voice is a little thick, gentled by fondness, and as his hand moves to cradle the back of her head, his fingers thread into her gray hair.
Without a doubt, seeing her again feels like beholding the sunrise as it throws golden rays of joy to banish the long dark. But... if she's here, then what's become of...
Phainon squeezes shut his eyes, caught between poignant gratitude to be granted this gift of reunion and the crushing weight of a world's fate, hanging in the balance. He will never regret his choice to place his trust in her, even though experience would have advised him to the contrary. In time, he pulls back, clasping her by the shoulders, ] ...Dan Heng will want to know you're here.
[ Not even seconds into basking in her presence, and he's already thinking about others who would benefit from seeing her again. Feel that? That's wingman material. ]
*takes the salad off the menu* you baited me !!!
While there's no telling where they are, she can't help but believe if they're here together, there's hope.
Enough time passes basking in his warmth that the tears that had started to cloud her vision have been blinked away, and her composure has mostly returned (as much as she ever has any). Any implication other than this man is a friend, and also a friend of a friend, is lost on her when he tells her about Dan Heng.
Well, that's not entirely true, as her face flushes just a little at the mention, though perhaps in the firelight it won't be obvious. ]
He knows. I...we woke up here together. [ Which really isn't that weird considering the living arrangements in Okhema and a host of other reasons, but she didn't usually beam him in the face with an active vibrator in greeting, then. ]
So don't worry.
the way it was unintentional makes it so much funnier tbh
[ His eyes soften, ] He's as inscrutable as the deep, but I can tell you haven't been far from his thoughts.
[ Dan Heng had been hungry to know what had transpired in his absence, and his eagerness to know Stelle's fate had not been lost on Phainon. Theirs is a bond he recognizes, sincere and powerful in the way that befits a friendship forged in hardship.
The snow, softly whirling around them, lends an ethereal quality to their reunion; it's hush, broken only by the pop and crackle of the fire licking over fresh firewood, seems to narrow their world down to the two of them. He drinks up the rare moment of peace. ] ...It's cold, and the hour is late. You should be resting.
[ Says the guy with an infamously contentious relationship with sleep. ]
no subject
But they're not talking about March, they're talking about Dan Heng and "inscrutable" and "deep" feel like the fondest understatements she's ever heard. It warms her to know she hasn't been the only one worrying, even if she can only assume Phainon must be a mind reader to get that much, in which case, shielding her thoughts immediately— ]
Yeah, that's Dan Heng alright...
[ It's deeply fond, in her way, which is somehow sounding both familiar and dismissive at once. She's changing the subject. She has so many questions she can't even begin to start, but Phainon beats her to the punch, at least in the subject change department.
If he thinks he's getting rid of her that easily, he has another thing coming.
She crosses her arms, head cocked to side and looks for all the world like she's about to grow roots in front of him. ]
You're right. Which, logically, means you should be resting, too.
[ Got 'im. ]
no subject
His chastized laugh arrives, bold as brass in the face of her challenge. Touché. ]
Are you inviting me to your sleepover? I haven't been to one since I was young, [ he says, in a voice enriched by a sense of nostalgia. And a touch of sarcasm: ] I'm touched.
[ He spreads his arms, though, showing he has very little in terms of supplies. Except for the firewood on the ground, that is. And, uh, his overall lack of proper equipment. Fortunately, Amphoreus heatwaves, when they occur, make dressing in such abbreviated clothing fully acceptable. Not so much when there's snow falling, though with the heat that he radiates, it doesn't seem to be bothering him much. ]
I'm afraid I came ill-prepared, my friend. Maybe next time.
[ No way, is he trying to escape? He just got here! If he's honest, he'd really like to stay and enjoy the Trailblazer's company, but there's that whole 'not wanting to burden others' thing, and... him being who he is... ]
no subject
Times like right now, in this very moment, she wants to fight him, too. ]
Phainon.
[ She swallows hard, considering her available tactics carefully...
Well, she's not going to burst into tears about it.
She could kick him in the shins but she's almost certain she'd break her foot.
Guess it's “tackle him and hang on like a koala—“
Oh, wait, there's a fourth option. ]
Are you avoiding me?
[ Psychological warfare, it is. ]
Because a week ago, I was convinced I was never going to see you again. And if you think I'm going to let you walk off without leaving right beside you... [ She shakes her head. ]
I'm not doing that again. [ A wobbly smile. ] Not tonight, anyway. You're stuck with me.
[ And that's a threat ♥ ]
1/2 help
Phainon's mouth drops open slightly, like the words had been slapped out of his mouth. ]
2/2
But more than that, that waver in her smile makes his chest tight, and within it, he feels a warm and comforting fondness. Even after everything, she still...
-No, down that train of thought lies a dark rumination he doesn't want poisoning the wellspring of light the Trailblazer brings.
Phainon lifts his hand, holding it aloft over her head, where snowflakes have begun to cling to her grey hair. In contrast, the snow has soaked into his hair and beads, liquid, on his skin, which means he's kind of soaked. It's of no consequence; what she wants is his company, and he considers it his honor to provide. ]
You're as indomitable as ever, [ he muses gently, ] As you wish.
no subject
I'm glad we're on the same page.
[ Ah, there's something behind her smile at that thought, but she's pushing that aside, too. She might not get to rewrite these stories entirely...but she can treasure them in her heart. And she can embrace a missing scene, here and there. ]
Since you're melting...
[ She observes, tucking her hand into her sleeve and reaching up to gently pat his face with it. It's ineffective, at best, and pulling her robe in strange ways, at worst. It's hard to notice the chill, all things considered, but she knows well enough they shouldn't be out here standing in the weather all night. She gives up on trying to dry him off any further fairly quickly. ]
So. Your place or mine?
[ She finally asks, her tent obviously not far, and while it's not exactly Chrysos Heir accommodations, it's at least water proof. And she's been left alone to it, more often than not, so they wouldn't be imposing on anyone...
Does she know how suggestive that question sounded? Debatable. ]
no subject
Stelle knows the weight of that burden; there is no need to spare her.
Nevertheless, the look he gives her kind, if futile gesture - mildly surprised, touched, and yes, a little self-conscious - softens the same way the flakes of frost do. They haven't been apart for long, but he can say truly, and from the very bottom of his heart: he missed her. ]
Well, mine is at full capacity.
[ Because of course he'd be wandering around out here while filling his tent with 'shoddier living conditions' refugees. Stepping closer, he grasps the voluminous roll she's draped herself with and pulls it snugly around her shoulders.
As he suspected, the tent nearby is hers. Unfortunately, he's still wet, and as warm as he runs, that's not really enough to dry the flannel wrapped around his waist. He does, however, give his head a shake, scattering drops of water - and probably catching her in the radius. ]
Sorry, [ he apologizes with a soft chuckle, thumbing away a drop he left on her cheek. From there, he searches for the flattest part of the ground and lowers himself to sit, tucking one hand behind his head, while the other is extended towards her in invitation. ] Come, rest against me, and keep that roll wrapped tight around you. I think you'll find I'm warm enough for the both of us.
no subject
For all the fawning and the expectations and reputations preceding her, she still finds that she doesn't always connect to others easily. Even those who have known her the longest still roll their eyes at her antics, her emotional outbursts, her efforts to grasp at the smallest piece of control of her fate. But Phainon knows what it's like to carry the potential for destruction on an unimaginable scale in his chest. Though, hers is dormant, and his is recent history, enacted, even. So if she can carry just a little bit of that for him, she's going to try. He's done the bulk of the heavy lifting. She can take it from here.
But for now....for now, they are wet, in a tent, in a forest, increasingly far from home, by all appearances, but they're not alone. And that's something to hold onto.
Phainon shakes his hair out and Stelle can't help but giggle, though she stills for a breath when he brushes the fallout from her face. Ridiculous. She's still playing it by ear, mulling it over in her head if she knows any good conversation starters, when it dawns on her just what she's signing up for. The tent entrance is zipped shut in an effort to keep some of the cold out, and Stelle is hoping to any power that can hear that there are no additional vibrating surprises to be found in this tent.
Bundled up in her sleeping bag, she shuffles over to his outstretched arm, and with the expected grace of a wobbling cocoon eventually falls into him, and onto her butt, roughly where she was hoping to land.
Look, it's not that she doesn't have eyes, it's that she doesn't usually have a whole lot of time, or capacity, to think about, say, how stunningly beautiful someone else is. It's filed away for later, she's a professional on the job, and when it comes to her close friends, she's especially careful to keep it to herself. She's not delusional. Usually.
All of that to say, Stelle is well and truly Warm Enough by the time she settles into Phainon's side, and illogically resentful of the few layers of insulation creating the barrier between them. But, as ever...she's not going to think about that right now. She's going to lean into him, and angle herself just enough to be able to lay her head against him comfortably. ]
I've done a little time as a space heater. [ She declares, hoping the campsite outside won't transform into Belobog in the meanwhile... ]
Together, we might be overkill.
/puts a hand over my face
He doesn't follow her, not right away, but eventually he does, lulled to sleep by the warmth that she, too, radiates. Phainon wakes frequently - as he often does, flames and gold licking the backs of his eyelids - but sinks again with the warm scent of her hair against his nose.
Stelle wasn't kidding when she predicted that the combined heat thrown off by this particular pair - one housing a Stellaron, the other the residual warmth of his ascension - because at some point, she's kicked off a corner of the sleeping bag. Phainon is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a cuddler; his face is tucked beside hers, bowed over the slope of her neck and shoulder, one muscular arm across her back, and her draped over his chest. One leg is hooked around behind her knee, and the other thigh wedged scandalously between both of hers.
Needless to say, his robe did not survive the inevitable tangle of limbs. Perhaps even more needless to mention, all of this sustained contact has had secondary effects anyone could have predicted, and an unspecified number of inches of that effect are pressing into the soft of her thigh.
His other arm, thrown wide in his sleep, folds over her waist, pulling her closer as he nuzzles in against her neck, sighing in rare contentment. Although a light sleeper in general, he's still in the murky liminal space between waking and dreaming. ]
forces you to perceive this
Right now, it's keeping the conversation light, keeping herself from worrying about all she now knows, all she's not sure how to tell him she does. That can be a Future Stelle problem. Present Stelle is dozing off to someone else's heartbeat in her ear.
There's a running joke that Stelle could sleep through the heat death of the universe. She finds it funny because she finds a lot of things funny, but there's an underlying inescapable exhaustion beneath it that has only been exacerbated by recent events. As it stands, knowing she's safe, and warm, and on some subconscious level held, means that Stelle's in no hurry to rejoin the waking world.
But it seems reality, or whatever it is that's taking its place, has other ideas.
She doesn't wake quickly, no alarms or buzzings to alert her, so as consciousness slowly creeps up on her, different realizations do so, too. The first, is that she is, indeed, being held, and as she's perfectly comfortable and remembers exactly who she fell asleep on, there's no reason for alarm. Prying one eye open for a moment confirms it's still Phainon, and she closes that eye just as quickly. She's enjoying this.
Of course, there's something about trying to stay still, instead of the natural stillness of sleep, that makes it almost impossible. And that's when something new occurs.
Her robe has definitely hiked up, probably something to do with the way her legs are positioned, and how she's on top of another body, at the moment. And the fact that there's another leg firmly in between hers.
The flush she's developing only grows as she notes the sensation against her thigh and yep, she's staying so perfectly still she's not even breathing, and this is definitely a sustainable tactic. She pries her eye open once more and glances down the long line of Phainon's body, and confirms that there is nothing between them below the waist.
But even in her attempts to be discreet she's had to adjust to see over the bicep draped over her, and she's definitely just pressed her thigh a little more firmly against some unspecified inches of interest, and ground the apex of her own against his. She closes her eyes tightly only to open them a moment later and glance at his face. ]
Good morning.
[ Her voice is even lower than usual, crackling with sleep. And she's very. Very pink. ]
🥹
Phainon opens his eyes to a pale dawn, the pervasive warmth of this unfamiliar tangle of limbs, and the scent that had brought him comfort through the night. He hadn't slept long, all told, but he'd slept better than he has in... he's not sure how long, actually. He's still drowsy, and beholding the welcome face of his friend he sighs, smiling vaguely through a sleepy hum, he starts to close his--
His eyes snap open.
They dart down. Flick back up. Dow--nope, keeping them up here! Where her eyes are, and not at the open front of a robe that's leaving not a super lot to the imagination. Not that this does much good, when he can feel everywhere that she's cleaved to him, every soft and warm (and warmer) part of her--if only one could will a dick into not advertising one's appreciation. ]
Whoops, [ says a guy in the midst of all manner of calamitous circumstances, ] I, uh-
[ A self-conscious, maybe a little uneasy, laugh tumbles out of his mouth.
It's not the fact that he's waking hard; Phainon's a man, he's been an adult for the better part of a century in this cycle, and has the experiences of over thirty million epochs stuffed into his brain. This is the least surprising part of this outcome. It's that, consciously or unconsciously, he's inflicting that on someone who never got a say in it, and if he's already reluctant to burden anyone even in the slightest, most benign way...
He clears his throat, hands reflexively moving to bracket her waist, presumably with the intention of lifting her from his lap, which... besides taking some impressive upper body strength when in a supine position, coincidentally reminds him of how she fits in his hands.
Phainon feels a kind of way about that, if he's honest. A hot prickle in his spine over an inch or so where his fingers can almost touch. It's... really not helping. The smokiness of her Entry Hour voice isn't helping, either. ] I'm, I'm so sorry.
no subject
Ah—!
[ of her gasp, when the cold air caresses between her legs suddenly, is muffled by nothing.
She goes even pinker, her body radiating heat in such a way she's certain she's steaming, and bites her lip hard. A slow swallow to collect herself before she slaps him very gently on the chest, since her hold on him has been loosened enough to do so. ]
Stop apologizing.
[ How is she supposed to think like this? Rolling between wondering if this is a dismissal, a rejection, or embarrassment, this wasn't exactly the plan, but it's not unwelcome. But how to indicate that without coming on too strong...
So she smiles, and she shouldn't be trying so hard with the bedroom eyes, but they do just come naturally to her. ]
This robe really does it for you, huh?
[ Nailed it. ]
no subject
The gasp, the way she's gone fetchingly pink, the bite to her lip-
Recognizing that the feeling's mutual snaps the taut line of tension that was threatening to carve distance between them, it was misguided consideration on his part, a readiness to deny himself while pouring himself out to fill up everyone else's cups. His laughter is self-conscious, tinged with embarrassment, as though he'd been caught trying to nick the last honeycake from under her nose.
There's something in his laugh, a hint of that nameless ache that has stained the recent chapters of his journey, and yet, a hopeful: ] ...Guilty as charged?
[ Whatever the standards are in their disparate existences, Phainon doesn't think he's risking a rejection as he lowers her, returning things to almost as they were, except that she's still wearing a belt of his hands around her waist. ]
I didn't intend, [ he starts to explain, but with her admonishment still fresh in his mind, he hedges, thumbs petting over the impossible softness beneath them, unconsciously, unabashedly affectionate. ] Right. I'm not apologizing, since it seems you're... not offended! [ Phainon's bright tone dips into a quietly pleased, ] How fortunate.
[ If this man had a tail, it'd be wagging. Who wouldn't like feeling wanted, who doesn't like feeling like they're not alone in their sentiments? ]
no subject
A brief moment of...not quite fear, because that feels like too strong a word when she's looking at Phainon beneath her, his hands still wrapped around her waist, his thumbs soothing along her spine in a way that makes her feel boneless. But maybe just the slightest bit of worry he'd withdraw despite her attempts. She's not leaving him anywhere to hide, so she drinks in the changes in his expression, his tone, watches as he picks up what she's putting down.
She wiggles a little, experimentally, as she settles back in. Maybe tail-wagging isn't far off... ]
Definitely not offended.
[ He's not the only one whose voice dips again, still comfortably in her entry hour range, and she allows herself to feel what it does for her, this new dynamic they're flirting with... ]
So.
[ This is new and untrod territory for her in...pretty much every way. She's confident she can figure it out, though. There's something about the comfort level between them, the enthusiasm and the uncertainty both, that emboldens her. It helps that it's Phainon.
And there's an understatement for the millennia. ]
Do you want me to keep it on?
no subject
To say nothing of millions of recurrences, the loneliness and despair of that endless and bloody pilgrimage. It helps that it's Stelle, witness and participant in that journey, a true Deliverer on whom so much rests, and yet remains so attainably, relateably... human, despite the fundamental differences in their creation.
His palms paint heat up her bare back, the hem of her robe bunching at the bends of his elbows, asking with a voice so quiet, so calm, it's entirely at odds with the thunder of his heartbeat in his ears. ]
Do you want me to take it off?
[ She is given every opportunity to stop him, to interrupt the inexorable push of his callused palms up towards the blades of her shoulders. Unstopped, the material gathering at the crooks of each arm coaxes the fabric covering the slopes of her shoulders to fall.
How she chooses to deal with it - whether she lets him lift the robe off her arms or tries to wriggle free on her own - is up to her to decide, but before he lifts the fabric over their heads, he cranes up, a little... not hesitant, but maybe vulnerable enough for shyness, a breath from brushing his mouth against her cheek.
Poets and bards love to sing about when Oronyx bids time stand still in honor of moments of significance; for Kremnoans, the pivotal moment before a blade descends, for Okhemans, the heartstopping moment before tragedy or betrayal. There are none written for the soft of Stelle's hair on his face, or the aching exposure of gazing into another's eyes, inches apart.
Losing everything makes greedy men of those who think they have a chance to get any of it back; Phainon, who has spent uncountable eons spilling blood for the dim hope of a tomorrow that might never come, allows himself so rarely the opportunity to be selfish. More readily gives himself the chance to doubt, which is why, when he changes his mind, turning from cheek to mouth, he spares doubt a breath. ]
What if this changes..? [ Fate? If only. Friendship, now that's closer. And a little late, when he's all but hanging from the lips he longs to taste, not a thread between them. ] I-
no subject
Phainon's hands slide up her back, leaving goosebumps and warmth in their wake in equal measure, and she's so ready to peel this robe off before it catches fire that she doesn't even consider hesitating, welcoming his assistance in freeing her arms from it. ]
Please.
[ Because she's enjoying this, her heart pounding in her chest so loudly she's amazed she can breathe, the tumbling face-first into whatever this is, without any idea what will happen in the next moment, the next second, except she knows she wants to find out with him.
One moment she's taking a breath, and the next they're nose to nose, and she's frozen in time with him. She'd memorized his eyes long ago. Years ago. Lifetimes. She can see herself in them, now, if only in the way he looks at her. Like she's something terrifying and beautiful, and she could get addicted to that look, this feeling, stealing his breath to trap it in her own lungs.
What if this changes... as if there's any coming back from this, as if they haven't already slipped over the edge and caught each other mid air just for a moment, reached out to make sure they weren't alone. As if she can't feel his heartbeat as if it were her own.
She tips her head just that hair's breadth to rub her nose along the side of his, giving him just another moment to grasp she's still right here with him. ]
Trust me.
[ It's spoken against his lips because she's barely remembered to warn him before she kisses him, before she slots her lips with his and pushes. ]
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But...
Trust me, she says, and he does. With all that he is, with all that he would become. With the fate of his world. What is a kiss, against the combined weight of the fates of Amphoreus and the universe beyond? At that brush of her nose against him, Phainon's lashes have lowered around the poignant sentiment, softening his gaze - half pain, half tenderness.
He closes them and discovers the taste of her lips, not after that first push, or the bump that follows, but when he licks along the seam of her mouth and sinks his fingers into gray hair, his other arm pushing across her back to press her flush with his chest. ]
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Phainon crushes her against himself and she gasps out the exhale, mouth opening to his curiously probing tongue. She can meet him halfway there, too, careful at first while she figures out exactly—oh, that's fun, sliding her tongue alongside his, and she makes another little sound of appreciation, does it again, scrapes it over his teeth on the way back.
Held as she is, there's not a lot of range of motion, not that she really needs it right now, content to breathe in tandem, her palm flat against his shoulder, thumb tracing along his collarbone almost absently. ]
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His arms are still heavy across her back, and when his head falls back against the ground, his white fringe bounces against his brow. It feels helpless, in the best way, how his smile keeps stealing the faculties of his mouth. ]
Uh, [ he starts, stops, and huffs a laugh, ] Wow. I'm... speechless.
[ Phainon doesn't waste time on speculating whether she has taken others to her bed like this - that's none of his business. What matters... is that they've been given this precious gift, a moment to call their own. A miracle in itself, for someone facing the long vigil fated for 'Worldbearing'. He leans up and, in imitation of her earlier gesture, runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers. ]
What other secret talents are you hiding from me, partner?
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Her lower lip is caught between her teeth and she worries at it absently, only releasing it when she smiles hard enough she has to. Speechless, indeed.
Partner, sends a new kind of delicious shudder through her she didn't anticipate. She's lost count of how many times he's referred to her thus. And yet. ]
Maybe you'll find out~
[ Purred with genuine confidence, even as she goes a little cross-eyed when he rubs his nose against hers, refusing to close her eyes. ]
A girl needs a few mysteries.
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She hadn't been joking about running warm. His hands are as hot as her body as they paint warmth over the smooth curve of her back, down over one hip, and down the length of one toned thigh, tucking his fingers into the bend at the back of her knee. He smiles against her cheek, kissing her once, twice. ]
Okay, [ there's the sound of laughter buried in there, his smile tangible against her skin. Another kiss, on the curve of her jaw just before her earlobe, her hair tickling his face, ] I don't mind going on the hunt.
[ He leans up a little more, lips brushing over the shell of her ear, ] To draw out my prey, [ oh, her mysteries are prey, now? ] I just need the right bait.
[ As his palm smooths back up her thigh, he tips back his head, a soft grin on his mouth and lashes half-veiling the forget-me-not tones of his eyes. He wants to see this, the moment his hand crests the curve of her ass, his strong fingers dimpling the pert round of one cheek, nudging his thigh up into the warm, soft - and (delightfully, notably) damp - apex between her thighs.
Fondness, affection, desire, devotion. These things fill the scorched hollow in his chest until it aches; like molten gold crawling in between the pieces and mending cracked porcelain, she puts the agony and regret of the past into retreat, and grounds him in the moment. Callused fingers roll her hips against his thigh, and the others trace her throat, fanning over her collarbone.
Quietly, he recites to himself- ] Forgetting is the only thing ordinary people can do, but for her, I've decided not to-
[ His touch continues to wander, until he scoops gently into his palm the swell of her breast, continuing, as his thumb brushes over its curve, flirting with the rosy edge of one nipple. ] When the Parting Hour clouds my vision, everywhere I look, I see her shadow-
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