5 ♐ How to Quickly and Effeciently Traumatize Your Children

[aim_exorable]

Who: Darkleer, Summoner, Equius, and Gamzee
Where: The Highblood (+1 Temporary Mouthy Lowblood Rebel) Hive
When: Morning
Style: Action?
Status: Closed

[Yes, there's the positively bewildering matter of Dualscar, and the much more terrifying matter of the Grand Highblood, but the more dangerous of the two has been dealt with. Even without that, the week has been almost... peaceful, even with the arrival of Mindfang and all the difficulties that caused. ]

[It's almost been nice. Then again, considering the date he and Summoner went on, perhaps he is slightly biased.]

[But now things are truly going to be back to normal with the return of Gamzee and Equius. They've been gone far too long, having to survive with dealing things up on the island. They deserve something good for once. So that's why he's in the kitchen, making breakfast. He still hasn't bothered to get his sunglasses back from the Helmsman, so it's the same cheap pair he's wearing again. Only he's a bit more casual today: glasses pushed up and resting against his horns, a tight blue tank top hugging his torso, and simple black slacks, his sign on one pocket. His hair is tied back once again in a loose, messy bun, strands still brushing against the nape of his neck and between his shoulder blades.]

[It's quite possibly the most casual he's looked in quite a while.]

[Pancakes, fruit, crepes, quice, bagels, a little something called Akki Rotti... It's all set up on the table already, and Darkleer is simply finishing up a last few dishes. Coffee cake and banana oatmeal bread, to be specific.]

[What? They eat a lot here.]

[Carefully removing the two from the pan, he asks over his shoulder to the troll who's been helping him all morning.]

Could you assist me with this? We'll be done after this.

Comments

[rebull]

You swear~?

[A smirk, smoothing his hand over the tight curve of Darkleer's behind, glancing up to him with a sly expression.]

1/2

[aim_exorable]

[ H U F F ]

[aim_exorable]

[Wait, no, he has this.]

[Twisting away from Summoner and that cursed wandering hand of his, Darkleer turns to face him as he backs up to the dining room proper.]

There are little traits that keep me bound
I think of nothing else save the bright face of my heart...

[Looks like the start of a poem, Summoner.]

Ah me! His ash-gray throat, his strong chin
His fresh laughing mouth which daily seems to say
"Come kiss me, love, kiss me once again!"

[rebull]

[Why does it have to be poetry?!]

[He can handle poems of war and strife, and nature and weather, but romance and love is something else. It's just ... embarrassing. Like when you watch a film and something really shameful happens and you have to shy your eyes away because it's so silly and cheesy. That feeling of butterflies always kicks in when he hears words like that and he can help how he recoils, his face holding an expression if complete and utter terror. The words wrap around him like some trickster god's tendrils, pretending to want to please his affectionate yearnings but only are there to make him puff up like a bird in the dark season.]

Oh no y-y-, stop it!

[His wings rustle and he moves away, going to press against the main table, hands tight on the edge of the top surface. Summoner's face is ablaze, orange, and getting worse a she listens to the words.]

Not fair!

[aim_exorable]

[Not fair, he cries! Not fair when he was pressing up against him, teasing and taunting him so cruelly with carnal desires. Darkleer smirks. All is fair in love and war. If Summoner hasn't learned the first time, and the second time... Well.]

[Darkleer slips closer, smug as can be.]

His regal nose, his smiling orange eyes
That thieve to steal a lover's heart
And his bright wings that wildly fly
Each have wounded me with a dart

So amorous are these that I deem they will slay me
Ah God, ah God! Alas, who will save me?

[rebull]

Oh my god are y-y-you making this up right now!?

Is that really a thing that is currently happening!?

[That makes it so much worse. The fact that he's reciting about him. Summoner feels like he wants to just melt into the floor under him and the table behind him, his claws grinding against the bottom of the level surface.]

Darkleer, please.

[aim_exorable]

[As if. Darkleer can't make up his own poetry if he tried. This is simply another's poem, only twisted to fit. Summoner does not have a swan white throat, nor does he have brown tresses. Things simply have to be changed for the beauty of making Summoner a stuttering, blushing mess.]

[And Darkleer likes that almost as much as he likes it when Summoner orders him about.]

[Nearly high off of his own victory, Darkleer presses closer and seems to think it over for a moment, his own hands pressing against the table besides Summoner's so that the other troll is effectively trapped.]

Please what?

[rebull]

[His voice hitches, afterwards, a steady stream of 'uh's and 'um's leave, jaw locking, leaning even further back, feeling the edge of the table press into him as he leans. Summoner's eyes dart to either of Darkleer's hands and he furrows his brows, wings tugging to alter their positions behind him, coating the table top in an orange blanket.]

Please, just, stop. It's so fucking, embarrassing.

[Why would anyone even make poetry to be read to anyone in an a romantic way? It's just so cheesy and silly and god, he feels like he wants to just curl in on himself]

[aim_exorable]

Well, when you put it in such a way, I suppose...

[And his expression just looks so contrite. It's perfectly practiced, the way he frowns apologetically and his brows draw together. But his eyes? They're alight with deviousness, shining with that confidence and amusement. Darkleer let's his voice slip lower.]

Shall I compare thee to a warm summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate;
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
And Summer's lease has all too short a date
Sometimes too hot the eye of Heaven shines
And often is his gold complexion dimmed..

[Darkleer is quite enjoying himself. He certainly sees no reason to stop.]

[rebull]

[s;onvfjuvndfvgb]

Stop stop stop stop! Uh, I am so not comfortable, this is completely unsettling just, uh, ahhh.

[Ramblings, just ramblings, he soon moves his hands to cover his face as if they will hide him from the poetry, like some magic fleshy shields made to stop the literary bombardment focused on his general person.]

[aim_exorable]

[Is this actually happening? Is the great and courageous, quick-witted, cocky Cavalreaper General actually hiding his blushing face behind his hands like some six sweep old nymph?]

[Darkleer feels his heart flutter. This is absolutely perfect.]

And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

[so of course he's not going to stop.]

[rebull]

[Sobbing, he feels like he should be crying right now. This is just terribull. His face is hot and it's like he's going to just burst into flames. The words just keep coming, and now he's finally going to try and scramble out away from the other troll and the table.]

[Just needs to get the fuck out of this room, breath, dear, dear mother grub.]

[aim_exorable]

[No such luck.]

[Darkleer takes Summoner by the arms and pulls him back, pressing him right back against the table. His eyes are half lidded as he leans down to smirk at him all the better. Seeing that frantic nature makes his passions spark. It's the blush, he thinks. Never will it appear anywhere else.]

That's two, now, that I have recited for you. I have heard it said that it is the third which is particularly fortunate... Shall I?

[rebull]

Nooo... no no no y-y-yo-you shall not.

[Whining as he squirms on the table, trying to pull his arms away and push Darkleer away with his legs. The table's moans, slight as they are, are more from the force Darkleer is exerting then from Summoner's weight, being a lot lighter than anyone would think. But even if the table was having a difficult time, Summoner would continue trying to get away, continue rambling and umming and uhhing in his frazzled state.]

[Got he can't stand poetry like that, it's just... it's like tickling, it's worse than tickling.]

[aim_exorable]

I do think I shall.

[And possibly, quite possibly, maybe, he'll cease the game for now. Maybe.]

There is a lad sweet and kind,
Was never a face so pleased my mind;
I did but see him passing by,
And yet, I'll love him till I die.

[There's not escaping Darkleer's steel grip, and he ignores the pushing legs. Instead, he just stays focused on Summoner, still enamored with his reactions and the way his lips trip over words. Yes, he will love this firework filled troll until he passes. Darkleer knows it.]

[rebull]

Please, just, stop, please...

[MORE SQUIRMING. MORE TRYING TO GET AWAY. His back is arching and his wings are a bit frantic over the table top as he tries to wrestle away, but this is exactly why Summoner relies on never getting caught.]

Ugh, let, let me go! Shhhh! SHHHH!

[aim_exorable]

His gesture, motion, and his smiles,
His wit, his voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart, I know not why,
And yet, I'll- oh, calm, calm, very well.

[Shushing him right back, Darkleer bumpbs their noses together.]

Calm, calm, if you can't handle it...

[rebull]

Nnneh heh heh... stooop.

[Shaking his head the best he can with that head rack of his, still a ball of energy trying to yank away from the other troll, wanting to head into any other room and curl up to calm down.]

Calm..no... I can't handle it. Just, stop!

[aim_exorable]

Calm, calm, I've stopped, haven't I?

[Giving a low chuckle, he just holds Summoner where he is. The struggling the other troll does is of no bother at all. Not even a small bit. Still rubbing his face against the other's, he smirks.]

You really never learn, but I suppose I cannot say I mind when it gives me the opportunity to drive you to such a wonderful mess.

[rebull]

Wah-wonderful!? Yeah, sure, w-w-wonderful. Why-why would anyone even write that stuff... ugh.

[A long whine, like a dog waiting to leave through the back door to go outside and wander about. Summoner breathes in a closes his eyes, his face hot, trying to calm down as he lays there being held to the table.]

[aim_exorable]

Because they want to impress the one they love.

[Another snicker at that whine and Darkleer ducks his head down to kiss along Summoner's jaw, up to his ear.]

To express the feelings that twist and turn inside of them whenever they're kissed or gazed upon with love. [A warm breath against his earrings.] And perhaps, just perhaps, to tease them until they're nothing more than a gasping mess, blood bright and brilliant against their cheeks, words stumbling across their lips and never quite making it.

They certainly didn't write any of those poems with the express intent to embarrass you, Lysunder. [A smirk against his earlobe.] Although I will admit that is mine in reciting them.

[rebull]

Oh gooood.

[A groan, Darkleer describing the reason for such poetry is almost worse than the poetry itself and Summoner gasps out some embarrassed sobs, still squirming a little here and there. But his ears flicker at the small kisses, and his heart races a little more when the other troll breaths into his ear. He's now noticing the position he's in, with Darkleer taking the dominant role, and he internally cursing a him to settle down so he can properly enjoy this turn of events. But still he's just umming and uhhing with no real words managing to crawl from his lips.]

[Damnit. Damnit, just, stab him or something, poetry is worse than that, he can handle the blade but these cheesy fucking words are just so... so horrifying.]

[aim_exorable]

No brilliant and witty retort?

[Ever so slowly, Darkleer begins to pull back, eyes dark and confident.]

No sharp comeback, no clever counter? Why, how unlike you, Lysunder. You were so delighted to tease me so that I could pay attention to you, and now that I am, you're mysteriously out of words.

[Finally pulled back, his face close to Lysunder's, Darkleer smirks.]

I've won yet another round, I believe.

[rebull]

There is no w-w-winning, or rounds.

Damnit.

[A sneer, almost pouting as he looks up to Darkleer, his face still hot, orange, ears tinted with the same colour and flickering here and there. His hands press to the other's chest, palms flat against it, pushing slightly.]

Poetry's just dumb, if there w-w-was win-winning, of course you w-would w-win w-wi- UGH! [SO MANY Ws and Ys!]

[aim_exorable]

Was, winning, would, win.

[Isn't Darkleer so helpful? He keeps smirking, eyes bright and amused.]

And regardless, each time you try and tease me, you've certainly started something. It isn't my fault that when it takes this direction, you don't know how to turn it in your favor.