[There's another hum from him, easy and smooth in response to the familiar strains of that darkness like the music they sometimes share -- the quality is completely different but so are all the different shades of darkness they've shared and continue to share: there's a quick intake of breath underneath the kiss, the stuttering movement of his chest and heart easy to discern like this, but nevertheless Subete curls himself a little closer and more completely around their tangle. He's never been one to step back easily, especially where the people he's linked his fate and his voice to are concerned. Whatever else they are, they've arrived at that much.
And down they go.
Down, down, even though they're together and this abyss is contained between them it's perhaps fathomless at this point -- he recognizes some of the way down, and others he's heard the echoes of or even has left bookmarks upon. Of course they're both several types of ghost by now; of course Hikage is a ghost twice over or more; of course Usagi, perhaps the rarest of those names, is also the center of the web in its own way; he lets all of that pass quietly though not passively, running his fingers through each strand of the story the way physically they've continued their curling movement through hair. Not quite a caress, the slightest of shifts, but a focus.
And in darkness like this -- despite its familiarity, because of its familiarity -- he does need to anchor himself in order to make his way through. Especially this early. There's a double-edged sword in gazing into the vestiges of night here, he has to open his eyes again, but he keeps them on the ridiculous lines of their bed and within the circle of his arms. There's a fine tension that's settled in his limbs and the core of him together with each chapter of this tale; it's indistinct, lost somewhere in the middle of memory and the endless muddling of colors.
But it begins to leach out the moment he speaks -- and in fact he is speaking before he's aware of it this time, words low and blurring into each other at first. It's more noise than dialogue until he realizes what he's doing, but it's needed for the moment.]
... The writers of that story... could perhaps not be called writers at all, they might have just been a gang of monkeys who had gotten ahold of a keyboard or pen and paper -- that's what the intrusion felt like, the clashing of different stories that were never meant to fit together.
But there are ways to tell even ridiculous stories like that. [the chaotic handful of words he's thrown out slow, and dip down to almost nothing as he takes a breath; in fact he almost doesn't keep talking but he glances downward at black and purple and red and whispers the rest] The boy was, I suppose, plucked away again and in all of this he met another boy: who came from nothing, and was meant to acquire everything. But the sum total of everything changes, you know, and there's no one in the world who can do those calculations.
I guess in the end, they both knew the price of breaking the boundary between life and death.
[...]
Maybe I'll tell you that story sometime. A story for a story. [a sigh, carefully tucking everything away for the moment even as he ducks down slightly and presses his lips to the crown of Hikage's head again, a more deliberate kiss than the one he'd administered before they both succumbed to jetlag the night before] So the master of the mansion did remember everything, hmm?
[ It takes him a moment or two to stir, that one specific word earning a breathy exhale. He knows better than most how dangerous a darkness like this is, but of all the things he's learned lately, true self preservation isn't one of them. ]
...that particular species isn't even suited for an onsen. [ Somehow they're back here again, but this brand of nostalgia is warm (perhaps fuzzy) unlike the persistent cold rapping of rain. ]
I guess they did, though. Maybe that's why they kept chasing each other too, company wasn't something either of them expected. [ He opens one eye, his right, as if to confirm that he's really here. It slides closed again momentarily with a soft sigh. ]
I can be the pillow first, that time then. Arrangement is important, now that I'm participating properly, but the boy and the story deserve that much. [ A hum, both a response to the kiss and the question. ]
He did. It was accidental, but the master was greedy and never kept his eyes or hands to himself when he saw something he wanted, and he was particularly bad when it came to artifacts. Among other things. [ He's moving then, tilting his head upward to steal a kiss. ]
[It takes him a moment or two to surface enough from their mutual tangle (though only metaphorically, because physically he still isn't moving for all the wild horses or simians in the world) to logically(??) connect the long-ago notions of monkeys and onsen; a beat, two and then there's a small laugh from Subete that sounds like it tripped out, just as fuzzy and inexplicable as the memory itself.
He's still catching his breath and himself in the wake of everything -- though he still isn't trying all that hard, because it's okay if everything falls away and bleeds into each other the way the undawn is still sweeping colors away and into heaps. So there's a bit of quiet and a matching sigh before he rests his cheek against the tufts of hair he just kissed, perhaps claiming his new pillow in advance.]
There really wasn't any other company fitting of the name, at least. That's what I think. [maybe Hikage feels differently, given where they are now -- Minneapolis and the scant two souls they've crossed an ocean and half a continent to deal with, for better or for worse; but that's not the most important thing right now] But it's still a tempting enough offer... I'll take it.
There are still things I want to say together. And if that's also greedy, then--
[It might be a little incoherent, the way he's reaching out and catching both of their words at the same time; the way he's still taking his time making Hikage's story a part of himself and reflecting it back in the ways that he can, when he can. But it's early yet. They have time.
And he gives up easily when the kiss swallows all his words again, something that's becoming perhaps too commonplace but that especially now he has no real objections to. Where words fail to tread he slowly lets emotion trickle into the kiss itself, soft and seeking and insatiable, reaching for more pieces of the puzzle even with all that he's holding already. One kiss, two, three. He has a lot to say.
[ There was a smile at the acceptance, because even though this isn't the first one they're still a rare and sought after prize. His mouth is busy not too long after, but he can make his feelings known through their kisses, at least once he catches up. He had started this again but it's still a surprise when he's matched and then some.
(If Hikage had mind to speak on the subject he would agree: no other company was really fitting of the name, for Marona wasn't simply company and the other...well he's not sure of that right now and he has better things to think about.)
It's a little while before he tries to use his tongue in more typical fashion, but in the brief moments of breath he manages. ]
There's enough for both of us- [ One kiss, no two. ] to be greedy about.
[ They'll be time later to hear those things, to say those things. But for now all he wants to do is to stay here, tucked away from the light of the morning, entwined so tightly that he can barely breathe. It's fine, he's used to suffocating in the darkness and this is the better kind. ]
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no subject
And down they go.
Down, down, even though they're together and this abyss is contained between them it's perhaps fathomless at this point -- he recognizes some of the way down, and others he's heard the echoes of or even has left bookmarks upon. Of course they're both several types of ghost by now; of course Hikage is a ghost twice over or more; of course Usagi, perhaps the rarest of those names, is also the center of the web in its own way; he lets all of that pass quietly though not passively, running his fingers through each strand of the story the way physically they've continued their curling movement through hair. Not quite a caress, the slightest of shifts, but a focus.
And in darkness like this -- despite its familiarity, because of its familiarity -- he does need to anchor himself in order to make his way through. Especially this early. There's a double-edged sword in gazing into the vestiges of night here, he has to open his eyes again, but he keeps them on the ridiculous lines of their bed and within the circle of his arms. There's a fine tension that's settled in his limbs and the core of him together with each chapter of this tale; it's indistinct, lost somewhere in the middle of memory and the endless muddling of colors.
But it begins to leach out the moment he speaks -- and in fact he is speaking before he's aware of it this time, words low and blurring into each other at first. It's more noise than dialogue until he realizes what he's doing, but it's needed for the moment.]
... The writers of that story... could perhaps not be called writers at all, they might have just been a gang of monkeys who had gotten ahold of a keyboard or pen and paper -- that's what the intrusion felt like, the clashing of different stories that were never meant to fit together.
But there are ways to tell even ridiculous stories like that. [the chaotic handful of words he's thrown out slow, and dip down to almost nothing as he takes a breath; in fact he almost doesn't keep talking but he glances downward at black and purple and red and whispers the rest] The boy was, I suppose, plucked away again and in all of this he met another boy: who came from nothing, and was meant to acquire everything. But the sum total of everything changes, you know, and there's no one in the world who can do those calculations.
I guess in the end, they both knew the price of breaking the boundary between life and death.
[...]
Maybe I'll tell you that story sometime. A story for a story. [a sigh, carefully tucking everything away for the moment even as he ducks down slightly and presses his lips to the crown of Hikage's head again, a more deliberate kiss than the one he'd administered before they both succumbed to jetlag the night before] So the master of the mansion did remember everything, hmm?
no subject
...that particular species isn't even suited for an onsen. [ Somehow they're back here again, but this brand of nostalgia is warm (perhaps fuzzy) unlike the persistent cold rapping of rain. ]
I guess they did, though. Maybe that's why they kept chasing each other too, company wasn't something either of them expected. [ He opens one eye, his right, as if to confirm that he's really here. It slides closed again momentarily with a soft sigh. ]
I can be the pillow first, that time then. Arrangement is important, now that I'm participating properly, but the boy and the story deserve that much. [ A hum, both a response to the kiss and the question. ]
He did. It was accidental, but the master was greedy and never kept his eyes or hands to himself when he saw something he wanted, and he was particularly bad when it came to artifacts. Among other things. [ He's moving then, tilting his head upward to steal a kiss. ]
no subject
He's still catching his breath and himself in the wake of everything -- though he still isn't trying all that hard, because it's okay if everything falls away and bleeds into each other the way the undawn is still sweeping colors away and into heaps. So there's a bit of quiet and a matching sigh before he rests his cheek against the tufts of hair he just kissed, perhaps claiming his new pillow in advance.]
There really wasn't any other company fitting of the name, at least. That's what I think. [maybe Hikage feels differently, given where they are now -- Minneapolis and the scant two souls they've crossed an ocean and half a continent to deal with, for better or for worse; but that's not the most important thing right now] But it's still a tempting enough offer... I'll take it.
There are still things I want to say together. And if that's also greedy, then--
[It might be a little incoherent, the way he's reaching out and catching both of their words at the same time; the way he's still taking his time making Hikage's story a part of himself and reflecting it back in the ways that he can, when he can. But it's early yet. They have time.
And he gives up easily when the kiss swallows all his words again, something that's becoming perhaps too commonplace but that especially now he has no real objections to. Where words fail to tread he slowly lets emotion trickle into the kiss itself, soft and seeking and insatiable, reaching for more pieces of the puzzle even with all that he's holding already. One kiss, two, three. He has a lot to say.
Greed, indeed.]
no subject
(If Hikage had mind to speak on the subject he would agree: no other company was really fitting of the name, for Marona wasn't simply company and the other...well he's not sure of that right now and he has better things to think about.)
It's a little while before he tries to use his tongue in more typical fashion, but in the brief moments of breath he manages. ]
There's enough for both of us- [ One kiss, no two. ] to be greedy about.
[ They'll be time later to hear those things, to say those things. But for now all he wants to do is to stay here, tucked away from the light of the morning, entwined so tightly that he can barely breathe. It's fine, he's used to suffocating in the darkness and this is the better kind. ]