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No! His master escape plan! More importantly-

"Not the jacket!" Caelus yelped as if he'd been struck in the body. He was rather attached to the clothes he'd been wearing since he woke up with a Stellaron in his chest. This coat had been with him since the beginning!

The vessel turned carefully and tried to scrabble for the sword's hilt to pull it out of the wall. Unfortunately, it was stuck fast, no matter how hard he yanked. How strong was this guy?!

Even worse. In his determination to not damage his jacket any further, it gave his pursuer plenty of time to leisurely catch up. Caelus was in the middle of trying to push his sneaker against the wall for leverage when a tall shadow swallowed up his own.

He gulped, slowly looking up and over his shoulder at Blade. Then offered an awkward, fearful grin, "...Uh, hi?"

What was it with kids these days and their disobedience? And why did he feel like a babysitter wrangling a wily child for their mother?

"What's a 'flip side'?" He questions idly, watching him fluster around the table like a fumbling puppy.

Did he want to run? Very well. Caelus was not destined to die (yet), so when they boy had decided to try his chances and make a break for the door, Blade did not rush after him. His body simply turned, sword summoned to his hand, and swiftly throws it at directly at his prey; the sharp edge catching on the hood of Caelus' jacket before striking the wall.

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It's a long descent from the throne to the ground. Sunday relearned that fact nightly from the memories that haunted his every resting moment. The piercing air whistling through his feathers. The slender arms around him that could not possibly protect them both. The impact of the ground, fracturing what should have been an endless, boundless dream, fracturing him.

Not even two system weeks had passed since then and Sunday was still picking up all the pieces. Without Penacony, without his sister or Master, he'd felt so... untethered. Would that Charmony Dove have felt this way, if it survived its own fall? After spending so long in a cage, it was difficult for one to know where to go next.

Perhaps that's why he agreed to join the Stellaron Hunters in the end. He'd always been partial to structure, and if following Elio's scripts would forge a new path towards that dream of paradise he still fervently held in heart then, then...

Well, the Halovian could follow orders quite well. He'd done it before.

(And if he didn't like this master, he'd also deal with him in the same way he'd done before.)

...

As it turned out, Sunday would not be working alone. It felt a little odd to be forced into such close cooperation with a relative stranger, the only bridge between them the orders they both shared.

Still, he diligently rehearsed his instructions before this mission, so he couldn't help but take some offense to the unnecessary reminder.

"Yes, I am aware. I have read the script, you know," Sunday replied archly, golden eyes narrowing as he tilted his chin up. What was this man so damned tall for?

With a shake of his head, he decided to take the lead, walking in front of the other with his shoulders squared and hands folded in front of his waist. Just because he felt like a mess did not mean he had to look like one.

"If we both know what to do, let us not waste time. We do have a schedule to keep."

RP Starter: @dreamscapesalesstore

Blade still, after a week, wasn't 100% certain if Sunday had joined the Stellaron Hunters of their own free will or had been pressured by Kafka and the script; while she wanted an almost immediate answer Blade had vocally made it known to give him time since technically Sunday wasn't needed for a mission for at least a week.

He also hadn't stuck around to hear Sunday request time to consider the offer OR if the Halovian had actually accepted it on the spot.

Those type of thoughts, from over the last week, would be pushed to the back of his mind as both Blade and Sunday were on their way to the first 'script mission' together and he took these very seriously especially since this time his script required becoming mara struck to make the mission believable and successful to the targets.

"No matter what your abilities sense from me, stay on script, make sure to keep everyone including yourself back... when I'm struck by mara there is little difference between 'friend or foe' and I will likely see you as my enemy." Blade intended to remind Sunday in his own words, he was not questioning the others intelligence; but it had been a long time since he had a new partner on missions so Blade had no idea what to expect and could only hope things would go smoothly and Sunday didn't stray from the script.

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Something about that initial assertion makes Ratio want to get up and close the door in Aventurine's face, just for having the audacity to assume he knows what Ratio would or wouldn't do. If this was any other day, he might have done just that, just to make a point.

Unfortunately, in this particular case, the gambler is right on the money. Seeing him in person, alive and relatively well, is more reassuring than a phone call or social media post.

That still doesn't mean the doctor has to confirm it.

"...A bar, really? You could afford to choose something with a little more class, could you not?" Ratio says with a sigh. He considers the clock over Aventurine's head, making some quick calculations. Despite professing his intentions to 'bother him', his timing wasn't all that bad. Just enough time to rope Ratio into this conversation, but close enough to when Ratio would usually start packing up for the evening to head home.

Was that intentional, or just lucky? One could never tell with Aventurine.

Without a word, Ratio swivels his chair back the other way around and begins to pack up his belongings. Let his actions speak for themselves.

"As if you'd turn me away at the door." He retorts, looking the other over a moment. A thumb running over the surface of the recently fixed gemstone in his hand. It's not like this was what he wanted, not really. But if he were going to find a reason to live, he supposes that he needs it. If they'd decided otherwise, he would've been done.

That was the wager he'd made with Jade so long ago, after all.

"Well obviously that's because I wanted to tell you in person. Don't act like you didn't want to see me. After all, somebody told me I needed to find something to live for. And currently, I've decided that it is to bother you any chance that presents itself."

Maybe it's also just to see him. To survive another day so that he can see those eyes. Even if they seem so annoyed with him. Even if there's always that look of judgement. It's worth it for a moment. Not that he'll admit he enjoys seeing him. Not that he'll admit he could be worth the effort.

"Think I could tear you away from your mountain of papers to get a drink with me~?"

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send  ‘ scars ‘  to  trace  my  muses  scars   ;   (   add  +  to  reverse   ) 

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more casual memes.

"Make sure to lock up."

"What does black tie event even mean?"

"Coffee?"

"Hey. Thank you for being here."

"The cat's back again."

"Where did you even come from?"

"You'd be surprised how often this sort of thing happens."

"How many have there been?"

"I didn't hear you come in."

"Are you asleep?"

"You left the light on for me."

"This is my safe space."

"You and me. Yeah?"

"That's the last of them."

"You don't need to knock."

"I wanted to give you a key."

"You're welcome here. It's a standing invitation."

"You should know this already."

"You know that's not what I meant."

[SPACE] -> for a scenario where our muses are particularly good at sharing space around each other, e.g. ducking around each other in a crammed kitchenette, etc.

[GROCERIES] -> our muses are shopping for groceries together.

[TRINKET] -> one muse asks the other about a trinket or sentimental item they have/are wearing/etc (you may need to specify some trinkets)

[COFFEE BEANS] -> one muse notices the other is low on some everyday supply and replaces it without being asked.

[SPLASH] -> one muse is splashed by the other (by a puddle, in a pool, spilling tea, etc; some form of liquid landing!)

[RESCUE] -> one muse 'saves' the other from a conversation they are not enjoying (or prevents them from having to start the conversation, in the first place)

[INTERVENE] -> one muse is being hit on aggressively in public, and is clearly not into it. the other muse steps in to intervene.

[ELEVATOR] -> our muses happen to be in the same elevator when it jams.

[FENDER BENDER] -> our muses are in a nobody-gets-hurt car accident.

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How much of a kiss was lips touching lips? Ilmari had had a dozen mouths and placed it upon a dozen more, but every kiss before paled in comparison to this single act of chaos. Their breaths crashed together in a tempest of cacophonous sounds, their lips tripping over each other in their haste to speak each other's true names, muffled and slurred and frantic. The coppery scent of blood filled the bedroom just as thoroughly as the salt of their lover's bitter tears filled their mouth.

It was not beautiful. It was profound. The culmination of defied destinies and damned choices, of hidden motives and wrongful assumptions, of willful ignorance and accidental revelations. The investment of years of suffering finally, finally repaid with blinding euphoria.

Ilmari drew their large arms around Eros' small body fiercely, binding him to their chest with an intensity that might have crushed a mere human the same size. If they could in this form, they would have coiled their entire body around him, memorizing the shape and weight of him in their loving, constricting embrace. Instead, they rolled their coupling over, pressing the petite Vidyadhara to the bed with the full weight of this humanoid vessel.

"Shoi-Ming, Shoi-Ming, Shoi-Ming-" His name is chanted like a prayer, like a question, beseeching him for something more. Lips are finally wrested apart only for the Fool to bury their face in the crook of that slim shoulder instead. They breathed in, deeply, that familiar scent that was still distinctly Eros and tried to reconcile it with the one in their memory. Though their tongue was human now, they still flicked it against his skin searchingly, dragging the flat, broad tip along his soft skin.

It must've been like a Soap Opera if the Aeon was watching down on them. Not that Eros would've been aware of that fact. Not that there was anything in his mind in that particular moment beyond wringing the life from Sampo Koski. How he knew the man beneath him was no slouch in terms of strength. The Vidyadhara had seen him. Knew better than anyone what he could do. Even if he so often teased and acted like the other was lost without him. Weak. He knew that wasn't the case.

But all Eros knew in that moment was fury. A feeling that he so hated to feel.

And then came the laughter. Ripping through Sampo's lips as the Vidyadhara tried to tighten his grip. But no- that laughter didn't belong to Sampo Koski. Perhaps a part of him knew that well enough as he stared down at them. As their fingers ripped his own away from their neck. As the realization and the shock had began to set in. As he heard, for the first time in decades, his name.

It hadn't so much as been spoken since that night. A quiet blizzard. And not just the snow, but the whirlwind of emotions he'd felt then. Burying what he thought was the last piece of his beloved, only to find a man buried there beneath the snow who looked at him with the eyes of who he had thought was a dead man. How he'd whispered a final goodbye before finding him- taking him in and nursing him back to health. Because from that very moment- hadn't they both known? In some way...hadn't they been aware from that very night?

And though he had been doing the choking, he found it was him who couldn't breathe the moment he heard that name. And within an instant that furious, righteous anger melted away. And he took in a shaking, desperate breath. Before sobs mixed with laughter and their lips met. Not for the first time...but the first true time in a very long time.

And what words he wanted desperately to say, he hoped could come across in that kiss. How I missed you. I have longed for you. I have never stopped thinking of you.

You are my other half.

But the only thing that leaves his lips is one thing. Three simple syllables.

"Ilmari-!"

He never thought he'd get to say that again. Get to kiss them again. Desperately wanting to wrap himself around them- and yet at the same time, not wanting to feel their hands release his wrists. That soft yet consistent laughter mixing with sobs as his body trembled.

"My Ilmari-!"

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Decided to redraw this adorable Sunday chibi

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they're siblings your honor

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Good thing it dawned on me:

Hey, Sampo doesn't have to be a protagonist, right?

The likes of us are better suited to...

₴Ⱨ₳ĐØ₩Ɏ ₵Ø₥ł₵ ⱤɆⱠłɆ₣, ⱧɄⱧ?

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"everything in the name of Idrila"

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Despite the temperature of the air dropping around them, Boothill's metal hand is still sunbaked and warm. Argenti thought it would feel heavier, but the other man's touch is as controlled and precise as if it were his own flesh and blood. A gentle pat. Just enough for it to be felt.

It reminds him of his Master, abruptly, keenly. That large calloused hand that could grip the hilt of a sword so fiercely, but root out plants so carefully when it came time to move them from their pots to the earth. The knight can't help but tilt his head up into the touch without really thinking of doing so. As if he were a sunflower chasing the sun, eyelashes fluttering shut for just a moment-

And then the moment passes. Joyous laughter fills the silent night air. Thick red hair is knocked askew from the playful manhandling. Argenti hardly has time to fix it when his attention is suddenly drawn back to his abandoned task.

"Ah! The fire-" he gasps at the dwindling ember glowing dimly in the dark and kneels down closer to prod it back to life, blowing on it softly to revive it. It only takes a few moments to feed it enough brush that it will survive even without his meddling. He offers casual, yet sincere remorse, "My apologies, I lost focus."

With that small crisis averted, the knight arranges his limbs into a more comfortable sit and procures a comb from- somewhere. Knight of Beauty's secret. One must always look well-groomed when espousing the virtues of Idrila. It's while he's fixing his tousled locks that he looks to Boothill again to address his earlier comment, because of course he'd been mulling on it this entire time.

"I believe that the location the stars are viewed from is as important as who they are viewed with- such pleasant sights are best appreciated with company," Argenti asserts. "I shall have to think of a suitable viewing experience to share with you in return, to properly convey my gratitude!"

Boothill may not have been as... intimate.. as the Knights of Beauty in their appreciation of things they found beautiful, but he could see why a sight like this could take someone's breath away, hell, even bring some to tears. The Ranger chuckles, though he isn't poking fun. He just found it rather astounding that someone who sought Beauty and appreciated it so earnestly would not have seen something like this before.

Then he heard two words. A 'thank you'. Yet such simple words seemed to carry a passionate weight; one that in itself would offer a warmth that made the sun they felt before feel cool.

It was almost ... natural, in how his hand settled upon red hair and patted at the other man's head. He smiles.

"No need. Looks like y'spend too much time in th'stars, not lookin' at 'em. Guess I'll just have t'make sure y'get some good sights in every once in a while." Then, he ruffles Argenti's hair, messing it up before laughing heartily. "Now c'mon, get that fire started."

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Argenti will be mine

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