OPEN POST 2019

[siberia]

 

1. Post here with the character you want to play with in the header or body

2. Put your prompt in the body of the comment (or leave it to me - i don't mind coming up with something!)
3. ????

4. Profit

 

 

my muselist is HERE!

HOT characters (aka characters i'm really in the mood to play!:)
     
(axel kingdom hearts also but tags won't be ready for a while yet)

 

Comments

[heartsteals]

[ Keeping track of time is easy for Lupin. It helps that he's on Earth, and that he's a human, of course - they're nothing if not good at organizing the world around them - but it's also simply in his nature to remember everything. He's a man who makes every moment worthwhile. The amount of idle time Chroma gave him had left him uneasy; when he's back on British soil, he's quick as always to throw himself straight into the thick of things and get to work. Because he loves what he does, and he's passionate about his cause - and because if he gets more than a minute to spare, he knows his thoughts will drift back again.

London is thrown into chaos as Isaac's machinations come to a head; he and the others find an unexpected ally in Cardia's younger brother, and with his help, they're able to sever that head before it can open its jaws and devour the rest of Europe. Code: Realize is thoroughly stopped; the city is saved; casualties are minor, Cardia got her family back, and, most importantly (it feels most important) her poison was cured. All of it done in the nick of time and with flair - just the way he likes it. Afterwards, their lives settle into an easier pace, although never a peaceful one. That's the way he likes it, too. There are always jewels to steal and landlords to thwart and beautiful women for the gentleman thief to save.

Saint-Germain is the one who notices first, in the way he loses focus more easily and more often than he used to, in the little mistakes that add up day by day, in the way he absently rolls the black gemstone he wears around his neck between his fingers. Impey follows soon after him, because he recognizes those lovelorn sighs and distant stares peppering Lupin's usual behavior. He never tells them, of course; he never tells anyone what happened, because who would believe him? Lupin doesn't think he'd believe himself. He simply laughs it off and gets back to work. The memories are his to keep, and that should be enough. He's sure things will get easier as time passes.

They don't. He loved Cairngorm so damn much. He's not the type to mourn or grieve for longer than is logical. Yet weeks turn into months turn into years, and he finds himself unable to patch up that hole in his heart properly; it eats at him, to the point where he's dangerously close to feeling regret. Surely there was something he could have done to keep them - surely he could have tried harder to find a way to bring them home, or a method of staying in contact, even seeing them or just hearing their voice, something, anything.

So when he wakes up in Chroma, much like they do, his reaction is quite different. There's the panic, the dread that he'll be stuck here again for who knows how long - but lurking just beneath it is hope that shouldn't be. The hope that he'll see Cairngorm again. Logically, there's no reason to believe this -- but he can't help believing it, wishing for it, until that thought is at the forefront of his mind rather than worry. 29 years old, and he's still as optimistic and confident as he used to be.

Cairngorm won't have to wait five minutes - only four. The sound of a splash echoes up from deep within the well. Then, without warning, a hook shoots up out of the entrance, latching onto the lip of the well, and suddenly, Lupin's there, throwing one arm up over the edge. (He made a point of always carrying a grappling line with him after he got back from Chroma - he learned his lesson.) He's a little soggy, and a little older, although still young enough that it's hardly noticeable, and when his eyes find theirs, that spark of his hasn't dimmed even a little, and the smile that brightens his entire face hasn't changed a bit. ]

Long time no see, ma cherie.

[unghost]

[ They're not sure what to make of it when they hear that splash. If they had a beating heart, they're sure it would be in their throat at even the small prospect that it could be him. They don't get much time to theorize about who it might be before that grappling hook catches on the lip of the well, before he pulls himself halfway up and out of the well. Before he gives them that unchanging bright smile, addresses them so sweetly, and causes their expression to twist. ]

Lupin...

[ His name comes out like a plea, quiet and gentle. They'd been standing before to peer into the well, but as soon as they see him, they lose the strength in their legs, stumbling into a kneel close to the well with a heavy thud. Their shoulders sag, and their brows furrow deeply, eyes wide as they stare into his - those amber, warm, kind eyes that they'd become so fond of. With the time that's passed, Cairngorm remains their immortal, ageless self, physically untouched by the passage of time. It's truly like they haven't changed since the day they've parted. He, on the other hand, is different, even if the changes are minuscule, and they don't want to dwell for too long on how that makes them feel.

Everything they'd held back for the last five years feels like it slams into them all at once, overwhelming them entirely - the despair of parting, the longing, the knowledge that they'd never have anyone else in their life quite like him, who had acknowledged them as they were and loved them unconditionally. They feel desperately heartbroken and desperately elated all at the same time; meeting him again... it's not too far off from how they'd felt when he confessed to them those winters ago. It's like they're being pulled apart by all the conflicting feelings they're having in the span of the moment. Of course they're happy to see him, happier than they've been in years, but they can't imagine saying goodbye another time. They really thought they'd never see him. It would certainly be less painful if they didn't see each other again, but they feel themself disregarding that thought in favor of reaching out to him, wanting to touch him above all else. To know that he's real, that this isn't some cruel joke on the account of the town.

They can't move as he comes up and out of the well. But as soon as they're able, as soon as he's close enough to do so, they have a hand at his shoulder and the side of his neck, the touch feather light and their hands shaking with what could be fear, could be pseudo-adrenaline. They're not sure. All they know is that seeing him is like breaking the dam of all their repressed emotions, and they feel immediately vulnerable and fragile at the mercy of how all-encompassing their love for him was, and still is. This reunion is bittersweet, like most things between them were, but they wouldn't trade it for anything. To see his smile and to hear his voice again, after only having memories to replay and cling onto for the last five years - they can't care about how or why they're both here. All that matters is that they are. There's something desperate in how they clutch at the fabric of the jacket he's wearing, their touch as cool and smooth as ever. Cairngorm can't cry - but their voice trembles all the same when they speak again. ]

You're here...

[heartsteals]

[ Everything about them is exactly as he remembered - their heavy touch, simultaneously alien and familiar, their ghostly pale skin, their glittering crystalline hair and eyes. The expression that reveals nothing while holding back everything. But he can read it - he's always been able to read them. They're so beautiful it takes his breath away. Five years, but his feelings haven't changed at all; he feels his heart swell as he takes them in, meets their gaze, hears their pleading voice. He feels the desperation in their grasping touch and trembling hands, and he's sure they're thinking too much again, because they always do - but all he can think about is them. ]

Of course. [ his usual bravado is subdued and quiet in the face of his overwhelming affection and the elation of this reunion. Lupin's not the crying type, either, but his gaze is soft, open, and in this moment, the gentleman thief's usually-impenetrable emotions are plain as day on his face. He loves Cairngorm. Still. ] I've been waiting for the day I could see you again.

[ that's not a lie. He always believed, somewhere inside, that they'd meet again - somehow, some way. That's just how he is. And, as ever, luck is on his side. He doesn't care a whit that they're in public; he leans in until his forehead bumps against theirs, his pulse racing just underneath their hand, and then it's his turn to breathe out a comment in a shaky voice. ]

I missed you, Cairngorm.

[unghost]

[ It's really too much for them to take in all at once - they've always been slower than him to process these sorts of highly emotional encounters, but they feel more out of their league than usual. Even if they did see him again, they weren't sure he'd feel the same way as he did five years ago, or if he would have moved on. It was certainly possible, given that there had been others before them in his life; it wasn't too far fetched to think that there could be others after them, too. When they were apart, they'd often think about how they wanted him to be their's still, wherever he was, the way they were still his, even if they could never be sure if that was the case.

But meeting his soft gaze with their own wide one takes away most their doubts, as does his fluttering pulse against their hand, steady and lively and just like they remember it. Nothing has a heartbeat on the moon. They'd always missed it, no matter how small of a thing it was to miss. When he leans in, they shift their hand so they can stroke their thumb under his jaw affectionately, gentle and slow. ]

I thought I wouldn't see you.

[ Unlike him, they had had little hope that they'd ever reunite - old habits die hard, they guess, and they've always been a pessimist in comparison. Their eyes meet his across the small space between them, unsure of what to do or say other than to drink in the moment. ]

Lupin, I... [ They really missed him. Probably too much. ] You have no idea.

[ How much they thought of him over these last five years, how worried they'd been for him. They're so glad to see him that they're not thinking about holding back expressing as much, just as they're not thinking about what anyone might think seeing them clinging to each other like this in the middle of town. ]

[heartsteals]

[ Of course they thought they wouldn't see him. Cairngorm's always been a realist. There was no reason to believe this would happen; Lupin still isn't sure why or how it's happened, himself, and, honestly, it seems more likely that this is all a very vivid dream than reality. Lupin likes to dream, though. He lives in the present, and in the present, they're here, touching him and talking to him again. That's what matters. Their touch raises goosebumps on the back of his neck, and he's not sure if it's because their fingers are cold or because of how much emotion it fills him with.

There are a million things he needs to ask them. How are they? They look okay, but they always do. What have they been doing? Did they get any of their friends back? Are they still alone in the winter? He'd always think of them when it started to snow again back home. He wants to tell them that he always kept that shard of them with him, and that he succeeded at all those things he wanted to do, and how he's trying to help his friend get to the moon, now, too -- but none of those thoughts make it out, because there's one thing he wants to do so much more than ask, and the moment they imply the depth of their feelings for him hasn't changed, he can't hold himself back.

He shuts his eyes and closes the short distance remaining between the two of them, pressing his lips against theirs without a care in the world for the fact that they're in public and he didn't set the mood and it's unseemly for a gentleman to be this way. For right now, he's just Lupin, a man, and he's reuniting with his long-lost love. He's gentle, he's careful, just like he always was, but now he's desperate, too, in a way he doesn't think he's felt before. His feet push him the rest of the way out of the well, and his weight bears down on them, his arms wrapping around their neck in a fierce embrace. It might be enough to knock them down, or maybe they're strong enough to hold him up. He didn't really think about it. He just wants to love them. ]

[unghost]

[ They're slightly taken aback when he surges forward - not because they don't want it, but it's so... they don't know, sudden. He's always been that way. Passionate, overwhelmingly so, but they can feel his desperation, too, and maybe that's what surprises them. Over the years, they tried not to imagine what it would be like to see him again, so this is all unexpected. That's why when he wraps around them so fiercely, it does knock them down - their head is spinning from the familiar-yet-now-sort-of-unfamiliar feeling of his lips on theirs.

Cairngorm does what they can to support his weight after they're pushed back, the hand that was clutching at his shoulder sliding down to grip his waist instead. The hand near his face naturally stays there, cradling his jaw as they kiss him back with just as much fervor - in fact, they let themself kiss him harder than they ever let themself do before, half because they have so much excited energy that they don't think about holding back and half because they just don't want to hold back. They don't think about it either.

All their thoughts about what he's doing, if he's been safe, if he ended up fixing everything he was supposed to get lost in the overpowering desire to stay near as possible to him. They don't let their lips part from his for more than a second before they kiss him again, not even thinking about how he probably needs to breathe. They forget, in the moment, or at least - they do for a few seconds, before they draw back just a breath away, as if remembering. ]

I miss you, [ They whisper, almost against his lips, their voice seeming on the verge of breaking. They still miss him, present tense, even if he's here in front of them, and they know they should be happy and he won't like to see them in pain, but they can't help it. Their pale eyes are lonely as they search his over the space between them, as if still verifying that he's really, truly there, like looking for some kind of difference between the man in front of them now and the man they'd known and loved before. ]

[heartsteals]

[ If he was the crying type, he might cry here, and not because he banged his forehead against theirs a little bit when the two of them fell (he didn't notice, actually.) They still love him, too. He wasn't worried about it - he's confident in himself, and confident in his understanding of them, too, in knowing how such a long-lived person would remember their feelings over such a relatively short time span, in remembering how they'd worried about being separated from him from the moment he told them how he felt. But it makes him so happy to know it - to feel it in their kiss that dares to take a little more from him than usual, in a way that only fans the fire burning in him for them, regardless of the occasional painful pinch and the squeezing in his lungs when they draw out the moment. Lupin still remembers how they were so shy and sparing with their affection. It was cute - he always thought it was cute - and it made the moments like this all the sweeter.

Heartwrenching, too, hearing them say that. He doesn't miss the present tense. He compels himself to pull back a little, too, as content as he thinks he'd be to just stay like this and smother them in kisses; as much as he'd like to say it's in the interest of decorum, it's largely because he wants to see their face, too. It's been so long. They won't see any significant changes in his; he's still young, and he takes pains to maintain his appearance, but perhaps they'll notice the lines that appear more readily at his eyes when he smiles and a slight sharpening of the rounder edges of his face. Even five years is enough to age a human. ]

Already? I'm right here with you.

[ and I'm not leaving anytime soon - that's what he wants to say. He has no intentions of walking out of here without them. Doing that the first time was a mistake - one he's regretted for the past five years - and Arsène Lupin most certainly doesn't make the same mistake twice. But he won't drop that on them just yet. He smiles, warmly, a little teasingly, even over the short distance between them. ]

That lonely look in your eyes is exactly what made me fall in love with you. I didn't want you to have to feel that way as long as I was around. And now you've got both of us feeling that way again. [ he breathes out a sigh, a ghost of a laugh, disbelieving and happy. ] God, you haven't changed. You're just the way I remembered you. Cairngorm...

[unghost]

[ It's so like him to say that. The little laugh he lets out falls bittersweet on their ears, endearing and warm like it always used to be but simultaneously painful to hear, like uncovering something lost from someone you won't see again. That's what this whole reunion feels like. They hold his face in their cool palm, brushing their thumb under his eye where they can just make out where lines appeared more readily. ]

You're different... [ They keep touching him idly, unable to stop once they've started. ] A little.

[ Their careful gaze looks over him the same way they would look for a wound - half in curiosity of how he's changed and half because it scares them that he's changed at all. Of course he would; they knew that time progresses differently on him. But it's still scary. The only thing that sets them apart from the gem they were five years ago is the clothes they're wearing - strange and alien-esque in fashion, unlike anything resembling the clothes they'd had from home in their time in Chroma. They meet his smile with the typical crease in their brow, finally returning their eyes to his. ]

But— the same, too. [ In his laugh, in the gentleness he always looked at them with - how distracting his warm gaze was. ] Lupin...

[ Should they feel glad that he's lonely without them, too? No... but they can't help but feel relieved that they haven't been replaced, that they're still taking up a special place in his heart. They don't know if they'd be able to handle it if that hadn't been the case. It would hurt too much, no matter how irrational that is. Or at least, that has to be the case, if this is how he reacted to seeing them, right? Suddenly, they're reminded it's always possible more time has elapsed for them than it has for him, which might explain why he hasn't moved on (they hope that isn't the case.) ]

How long has it been? For you.

[heartsteals]

[ their hands feel good against his face, cool and grounding, ensuring him that this is real, and he relaxes into their touch, not in the least bothered by their explorations. He can't stop staring at them, himself; his vantage point means he can't really see their clothes, but unlike Cairngorm, Lupin's not looking for differences or anything at all, really. On the contrary: he's feeling like he's finally found something he's been looking for. He smiles, affectionate and a little roguish. ]

Am I?

[ Different? He's not sure what they mean. The differences they see are almost imperceptible to him; the change was too slow to notice. Still, their furrowed brow and uncertain voice give him an inkling, even after all this time. There's always been one thing that made them worry over him the most, and their following question essentially confirms his guess. ]

Five years, almost exactly. [ he gets the nagging feeling a proper gentleman should really get up and off of their midsection, but he likes their hands on him too much to pull away. ] I thought of you every day of it.

[unghost]

[ Their thumb finally stops moving against his cheek, just holding him in place to look at. That's all they could ever hope for— to exist to him the way they had when they were here. They feel what he says sink in, sickly sweet and as addictive as his affection had always been. They don't know what to say— so they don't say anything, their expression almost wincing.

As much as they love him, as much as they love to hear this from him, it burns, too. They've had so much time taken away - they never knew that five measly years could feel like such a massive amount of time lost. How much time do they have left here with him before more of it gets ripped away? It's so painful going back to thinking like this, even in the face of his confirmation. So, they move their hand from his face to the expanse between his shoulders, their free arm snaking around his waist to draw him into an embrace. As usual, they have to be gentle. But they make up for it in how they grasp at the fabric there, clinging and unwavering. ]

...Me too.

[ They know they don't have to lay out exactly that the two of them are the same in that way - the time, and the yearning. They murmur, burying their face in his shoulder, almost like they're hiding away. They hear it more than they feel it coming on, but there's a fracture that forms from their hairline down into their forehead, the bittersweetness proving too much for them in the moment. ]

[heartsteals]

[ only once he's sitting up does he belatedly consider they might be making a scene here, and that maybe they should get up. Then he feels their hand at his back, around his waist, pulling him down again, and there's not a single fiber of logic in his body that could keep him from giving in. Propriety can wait; he's been waiting to have them in his arms again for longer. He returns the embrace without hesitation, as always, fingers gently pressing into their new silken clothes and their shimmering hair.

He hears the crack, but, in the haze of his thoughts, does not immediately understand what it means - an unusual thing for him, but, as established, Cairngorm is more skilled at making him lose his cool than any Parisian detective could hope to be. ]

... I know. [ Lupin's tempted to make a light comment, there, but he doesn't; he could just as well apologize, after all, for giving them exactly what they'd feared: someone they'd lose and mourn, perhaps forever. But, in truth, he isn't sorry - he won't regret his feelings, nor theirs. He's only grateful to be loved by them so strongly.

Even without seeing their face split, though, it's obvious from their posture, their voice, everything about them that they're upset, and so he holds them close, reassuring. ] Don't be afraid. I'm not going anywhere, I promise.

[unghost]

[ They frown without thinking at his words, drawing back from him enough so that they can scrub at their face with one of their gloved hands, trying (and failing) to scrape powder over their fractures. ]

Don't say that. [ Their response comes quick and sharp, shaking their head and sitting up so that they can get him off of them. ] You don't know that.

[ On this topic, they seem steadfast, even through the relief of seeing him again. They're not going to be able to endure it if they let themself believe in words like that and then get let down by the town making it impossible again. It would be comforting to know that they're both still the same, when it comes down to it; Lupin idealistic and confident, Cairngorm pragmatic and uncertain, if only the situation at hand wasn't so grim, and if they weren't suddenly steeped in the same flavor of dread they'd felt for the entirety of their last stay in Chroma. A ragged sigh escapes them, a hand covering their pale eyes for a moment as if they had a headache, while they finally draw their other hand back from his shoulder. They're both left kneeling there in the dirt, the world around them largely colorless - a strange imitation of the first time they'd come out of that well. ]

[heartsteals]

[ quick, sharp, and something he should have expected; his feelings are running away with him. Of course Cairngorm doesn't want to hear that. They've probably spent these years in even worse pain than him. He has the tools and support to deal with his grief, private as it may have been. They don't. And from the beginning, they've been cynical and skeptical and very ready to brush away his optimism as foolishness. His passionate claim probably sounded more like an empty promise to their ears - one that rubs salt in a wound they've been nursing for a long time. He lets them move him off and away, not because he wants to, but because he can't really stop them. They're stronger than he is.

He sees, then, the thin stripe of black across their face, and that's confirmation enough of what he thinks, and he instantly wants to reach out and feel them again and brush his hands over the injury the way he used to. Lupin wants to take them by the shoulders and confess to them how much he means it, how he'd do nearly anything to make it come true, after spending all this time without them. But he'll give them space; he'll own his misstep in that much. The smile fades into something a little more solemn, his eyes fixed on theirs. Perhaps it was gauche to jump straight to the future, even if his heart aches remembering the past, urging him to keep it from continuing. ]

Still worrying, I see, [ he comments, softly; he lowers his head to be more level with their gaze. (He dimly notices their unfamiliar dress now; the gauzy, ethereal fabric is unlike anything he's ever seen, beautiful and alien. It suits them perfectly, he thinks. His heart is singing still at seeing them again.) ] You've cracked your face.

[ it's uncanny, how he's able to simply reach down to the ground and pick up the thin sliver of black quartz barely visible in the dirt; he must have seen it in the brief space between his words, and he holds it gently between two fingers, halfway offering it towards them. ]

[unghost]

[ They're not happy about it, being the one making the tone between them solemn and heavier. If they could, they'd fly right off with him and stay in the emotional high that reuniting gave them - but they just can't. It's too bittersweet, and it pains them to have to push him away in any capacity, even if its for the better in the end.

Gingerly, their fingers take the offered thin sliver of quartz from him. Their fingers brush, maybe a moment longer than they need to, and the contact alone makes them sigh under their breath. ]

... My house in Flavo is still there.

[ They say, voice low, while they pin their gaze on the shard in their hand rather than at him. They can see he's trying to meet their eyes, but they don't let him - of course he's leaning to try and see them, and of course, they don't let him. Always retreating when they find themself too overwhelmed by matters of the heart - that's the way they are. Their lips purse together for a beat, like they're trying to muster the courage to push out what they're thinking. ]

Let's go.

[ As sure as they are that this won't last, they don't want to be apart from him now, either. ]