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

[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. ]