vatheon | 1 ♐ In which the mature course of action is to get smashed. Of couse.

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1 ♐ In which the mature course of action is to get smashed. Of couse.

Characters Expatriate Darkleer and Summoner
Location Summoner's camp in the forest
Time Sometime later in the night
Style Action?
Status Closed

[For most of the day, well into the night, Darkleer spends his time away from the hive and just catching his breath. Dealing with others is quite honestly overrated. It's a relief to just spend time in the park and staying by himself.]

[Well, not entirely by himself. Dural's white form is clear as moonlight as she flies through the air above the park, and seeing it helps calm him a little.]

[Eventually, he checks the time and whistles for her. She follows high above as he ventures into the forest, remembering the way from the last time he had to find the Summoner.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Why is that such a surprise? [He takes the bottle gratefully, ignoring the way their fingers briefly touch in the process.] You act like such a player yourself, sending out such a message on the network, what did you think would happen?

[Even knowing that, however, he responded to it, and Darkleer finds himself shaking his head at the thought. It isn't the kind of life for him, not dedicating himself to just five people and nothing more, nothing less. Not that anyone would take him, he's pretty sure of that.]

[Mmm. Not a good thought to linger on. He quickly takes a swig of his rum, only to nearly choke on it with Summoner's last words. Coughing, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and snorts.]

And back to sex! I shouldn't be surprised.

Hey, at least the illusion of intimacy is there. Sometimes illusions of grandeur are all you have, I'm used to looking up.

[You know the feeling? Living in a dream. Summoner used to know that feeling when he was asleep, but not anymore. Here, here he was in the dream, but it was just a rock painted to a chunk of gold, not the real thing. This was a nightmare.]

At one point in my life, illusions like that, dreams, were all I had. Not that I get to dream anymore, unless what you call what I get at night... dreaming. [He sighs, opening the bottle and taking in a drink, shaking it head afterwards, because ack, rum. Summoner does look in Darkleer's direction though, cocking a brow and smirking.

[Really, what did he expect. Flaunting that tight ass around me, of course it'll swing around to sex again... He's gotta be so ripped, wearing that armor all the time. Maybe he'll take some off with a little more heat...]

Oh come on! Back home not a night passed without me getting something, and now I'm here! Fucking... cold gobblebeast, it's terribull. [A deep breath.]

Doesn't help with eye candy right fucking here infront of me either.

[Blueberry maybe, or... cotton candy. HAHA, oh... Darkleer as cotton candy, that's good. It's because he's so sweet, heehee.]

Dreams... [He takes a deep breath and puffs it out as his eyes fall half lidded.] I've actually never had dreams, I think. I mean of the... the sleeping sort. [A small vague hand gesture is made, as if that explains it.] Even the nightmares were just faint, faint things.

So when you say dreaming... I wonder what you mean. All I have are just delusions, I think.

[Yes, that's the word. Just blinding himself to all the things the empire said he wasn't supposed to see or think about. He was a blueblood, a noble, an Archeradicator. It was his duty in life, his purpose, to follow orders and ensure the empire continued to run like a well oiled machine.]

[Except it wasn't really well oiled at all. A part of him wishes he wasn't able to see that.]

[Biting lightly at the inside of his cheek, Darkleer raises his bottle again, fully intending to take another drink. However, Summoner has the wost timing, and his hand gives a small jerk in surprise that leaves rum dripping down his wrist. Darkleer's stare at him is embarrassed, exasperated, and flustered.]

[Maybe a little flattered. Maybe.]

Do you ever flirt enough in the day?

You don't... dream?

[Some shock and awe there, looking over to him.]

I... I used to. [He puts a hand up, covering his eyes and forehead.]

Now I, now all I ever see is pain, and the night's a constant scream. I don't want to wonder what I mean, you don't wan to even think about it. I don't even want to.

[A deep breath, eyes half lidded as they stare into the fire.]

I try to not sleep for too long now. I can't handle the terrors anymore. I don't need to be even more reminde-

[His jaw locks, moving to quickly drown the next words in rum, and a long drink at that. He doesn't need to continue with that thought, even though Summoner knows he might anyway, if not after this swig, later.]

[A chuckle actually follows though, and he glances back to Darkleer, his face a flushed gold.]

But flirting is fun. I can never get enough fun. Let me flirt. [Smile.]

It's not like anything I do really matters to you.

[And it's just like he told the Psiioniic. So many deep layers for someone who plays the fool...]

[Darkleer lets the topic drop. All he does is lay his bottle on the ground and move his hand to Summoner's leg as the Cavalreaper downs his drink. He shakes a bit, wanting so badly to keep himself controlled and it's a little harder when he's tipsy like this. But he manages, and just runs his hand up and down the other troll's leg. It's a silent method of reassuring him, or at least that's what he hopes it does.]

[He pulls it away when he's done, however, and just keeps his hands to himself.]

Whoever said anything about that? I certainly don't recall it.

[Alcohol's fault? Alcohol's fault. They'll forget it- please let them forget it- in the morning. For now, Darkleer just holds the rum up to the fire, watching it through the glass.]

[Summoner pulls in a deep breath when he feels the hand graze over his leg, but he doesn't call attention to it other wise. Instead he just starts to stare in to the fire.]

Y-y-y... You think if you oust yourself enough here, you would go back?

...Nothing makes sense here.

[Darkleer hunches up slightly, drawing one leg up to his chest and simply staring into the flames as well.]

All those sweeps of habit and rules and a specific order, and it's gone here... It doesn't matter. The children keep saying I could change, but I don't know into what, or if I want to...

[Another drink.]

But I don't have anything back home. Nothing but a debt to a pirate. I'm wanted by no one but her, and even then...

You're different, however. I know.

I don't think you need to change...

[He leans back a bit, legs unbending, stretching out infront of him.]

You just need to accept it as yourself, something that makes you, you, in all your own glory. I think as Darkleer the Expatriot, Executioner, Excelsior, what have you, you're perfect just as that.[Laughs.]

Even if there's a bow stuck up your ass sometimes.

[He frowns, sighing before taking a drink.]

Fuckin' pirates... Hm-?

I'm different, oh, do go on. What gave you that idea? [Flickers his wings.]

You and him, you and him, always thinking the best in people. I don't deserve it... not when I don't even know which title is really mine.

[No laughing at this end. This is his problem, his dilemma. Executor or Expatiate or even Excelsior. Which is honestly the right choice? ]

[But he will agree to one thing.]

Fucking pirates. [He snorts and takes another drink.] And I didn't mean it like that, and you know it.

[Summoner doesn't realize he means Signless at first, but it does hit him eventually. He flushes a little thinking about Darkleer comparing he and some like... like him. Summoner as no right to be grouped together with someone like that, he's not yet deserved something so righteous.]

Why can't you just be Darkleer?

[Summoner smiles, moving to sit on the ground as well, a little behind Darkleer though to do his best at not whacking him with a horn, but he ends up kind of slamming one into the bench and groans, putting his hands on either side of his face.]

W-w-w-... Well fuuuck. FUCK. Ow... [Deep breath, aaand back to what he was doing. Which is looking longingly over to Darkleer.]

Could you mean it like that, just once?

[Why do people keep trying to say that?]

It's not that...

[Oh hey that sure is a whack he's narrowly avoiding. Darkleer tries not to laugh at the other, but he does smirk, feeling a bit better. Serves the other right, trying to pry.]

[Not that he'll ever learn his lesson. But maybe Darkleer likes that part of him. Even when it results in things like this. Flirting. Again.]

Hmph. I'm not the flirt. That is your realm. If I try to return one of those, you might be enticed and get the right idea. I mean. Wrong idea. You're a blasted pain, I hope you realize.

Right?

Completely and utterly wrong.

[H U F F]

Could make it right?

[Runs a hand up his leg, leaning close.]

What if I ordered you?

[...Oh.]

That... is completely lewd and with no logical basis whatsoever as you are not my superior. Which makes it even more perverse. Ah.

[Darkleer is not scooting away, that's kinda a go ahead for more teasing.]

[Summoner grins, sliding fingers around his leg slightly, pads of fingers grazing over the inside of his leg.]

Does it? A lowblood ordering a highblood, that really something you can get behind?

[...Haha... uh...oohh wow. Just wow.]

Like if I said, I command you to stay right here and not move. And if you did I might be tempted to make you pay for it. That statement, having no logical basis, gets you off a little, hm?

[Yes. Yes, it would, and in fact already has. There's already a slow, steady heat working up in the pit of his stomach, and Darkleer watches as those fingers wander with a slight catch of his breath. It occurs to him, faintly, that he's staring, but it's very hard to care about that.]

[What does occur to him, making it fight the buzz of alcohol, is that if he opens his mouth now, the curse is sure to make a fool of him. More a fool than he already is, anyway. So he just bites down on his tongue and gives an unsteady shake of his head. Unfortunately, with his shades gone, it's plain as day just how aroused this moment is making him.]

[A shake of the head is all he needs. Summoner takes his hand away and smiles, moving it to his own knee and pushes to stand up. He wobbles a bit before moving forward and crouching to the fire, taking a drink from the rum bottle before turning and putting it behind him.]

[He's pretty done with pushing now, though the alcohol is making him really want to continue, hence why he's up here now so he can't see Darkleer anymore. The thought passes by, of if anything would actually happen if he had pressured a bit more, and then a bad taste pops up in his mouth, and it's not alcohol related.]

[He pauses, staring into the flames as he moved a prodding stick to move coals around. He doesn't... want his first time with Darkleer to be like that, if it ever does happen. Not while they're like this. At that thought he stops though, realizing what that means, what him feeling that way about them means. His nostrils flare and he sighs, closing his eyes.]

[Well fuck.]

[Darkleer could not be any more thankful when Summoner pulls away. It hadn't occurred to him just how tense he is, or of the breath he's holding. As he releases it, the tension in his body just leaks out and he lets his leg slide down to the ground away from his chest. In the meantime, he leans back against the bench and just lets his head roll back.]

[That was ridiculous. That was dangerous. Why did he let that happen? It can't just be the alcohol. He's been flirted with before while drunk, and he's turned them all down before, hasn't he?]

[The slip up from the SFC earlier flickers into his mind and he lets his eyes fall shut. No. He's drunk and this is ridiculous. He's drunk and he needs another drink.]

[He stays at the fire for a bit longer before grabbing the bottle and standing up. More staring into flames before he finally moves to sit on the ground infront of the bench again. He doesn't want to think about that, this, whatever... whatever he was just thinking. He drowns it with more rum before capping the bottle and nestling it between his legs.]

Sorry, jokes are easier for me to handle, when things get serious I-

[He stops, taking a deep breath. He doesn't really know what he was going to say next. Instead he straightens his posture and glances over to Darkleer. He stares for a moment before moving a hand up to lightly curl long black hair around the back of his ear.]

Sometimes the fool is easier than the General.

[Darkleer is quiet and motionless until he feels those fingertips against his skin. There's a small jerk as he stiffens up, but he's not objecting. Just awkwardly straightening so he can glance back at him.]

[What are they going to do with one another. That is the million dollar question. Darkleer wishes he knew an answer.]

You've said. Before. It's not... a bad thing.

The jokes? Heh, I doubt you saying that now will make you stop heckling me for them, hey? [Chuckles, running fingers through his hair and twirling ends when he reaches the tips.]

Not that I want you to. I kinda look forward to you pestering me to be good. Sometimes I'm tempted to see how awful I can get before you just stop responding.

Mnn. You're not that lucky. [The way his hair is being played with makes him relax, although he doesn't quite mean to. It's a familiar action, one he's missed.]

You're also a sadist, apparently. I'm going to lose my mind because of you. [It's said teasingly, however, or at least not unkindly.] You and your horrible joking.

I'd say I'm lucky in this respect. [A light laugh as he plays with black hair, the length of it allowing him to hold some of it infront of him and twiddle strands between his fingers.]

A sadist? That's a little far, though I don't think I'd object to a little power pla-aahhhhy... [Thaaat was a yawn. His eye lids are getting a little heavy, so he decides to the close them, leaning his head against Darkleer's shoulder.]

Try not to... do that. The losing the mind thing. I'd be sad.

[And there is suddenly a Cavalreaper leaning against him.]

[Darkleer blinks a bit in surprise, and nearly raises a hand to shove him off before he decides that this is probably the least alarming thing that could have happened in the night. So his fingertips simply brush against Summoner's arm before he drops them.]

Tired?

1 ♐ In which the mature course of action is to get smashed. Of couse.

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