thusia | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Chrono, Tide, whoeverrr
When: Day 142, afternoon
Where: PLACES
What: Some coma'd assholes not being in comas anymore

[In a certain Sparkly apartment, a sleeping tinydemon blinks awake slowly, staring at his ceiling with some amount of consternation.]

[AND MEANWHILE, in an manner comically similar to his first foray into the afterlife, a merpire stumbles rather ungracefully out of Pi-Lambda, hand braced against a wall for support and dripping wet from head to toe. He looks entirely put out, but... he at least has clothes on this time......]

How many goddamned times...

(( HEADING OUT FOR A BIT, pick ups later ))

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[You're not entirely making sense yourself, you know.

One arm stays braced near Zexion's shoulder, keeping him at least moderately upright, while the other strays from Zexion's wrist in favor of traveling lower, along a collarbone and exposed skin.]

[I fail to see what you're talking about.

Rather obligingly, Zexion leaves his wrist where it is, the fingers of his other hand tangling back in the hair at Tide's nape.

This close, though Zexion makes no sound, it's easy to feel the shudder as Tide's fingers brush closer to where faded bite marks would be, had any ever left their traces there.]

[His fingers don't linger; they brush their way along skin without much favoritism, simply mapping what they can before dipping lower, beneath a collar.

His lips follow suit, and somehow, there seems to be no threat of teeth in the trail they travel down Zexion's jaw and throat.]

[That, too, is not bad . . .

There's a hint of breathlessness in Zexion's voice, hidden beneath the soft murmur of his words.]

Would you not be more comfortable in the water?

[He pauses and looks up, breathless himself--perhaps a bit more than the exertion would imply.]

I rather assumed you would experience just the opposite effect.

However much your consideration is appreciated, I mind such things far less than your assumptions think true.

[He frowns in very obvious skepticism, but he doesn't give it voice.

Instead, his hands disentangle themselves a bit shakily, and he shifts back.]

[Sits up and leans forward, hands finding the front of Tide's shirt and bunching there, holding him momentarily still while Zexion's lips seek out his own.

The brush of the magic that follows is different from the familiar wash of Cure Arts—it's soothing and cool, like the kiss of an ocean breeze.]

[Not expected.

He lets out another short, involuntary breath as he relaxes even farther, the fingers that angle in Zexion's sleeve asking a silent question.]

[Leans back and shifts to stand, tugging at Tide to follow.]

Water breathing.

[Unfortunately, his attempt to follow is foiled by the very unpleasant wave of vertigo that greets him when he tries. It likely ends with more than a little of his weight leaning on Zexion for support.]

[And this would be exactly why the pool is a better idea.

His arm wraps around Tide's waist, Giving him a moment before stepping slightly back, once again guiding Tide to follow.]

Come. It's not far.

[He mutters something quietly--and even if it weren't in his own language, it would still probably be hard to decipher--and follows Zexion's urging, lending most of his attention to the simple acts of breathing evenly and placing one foot in front of the other.]

[One step, and two, and three . . . and Zexion leans over just a bit to move the tray from the pool's edge, pushing it safely aside before drawing Tide down.]

The sleep that fever brings is not a restful one, no matter how long it holds you.

[he follows easily, slipping into the water like welcoming an old friend.]

Miserable, worthless illness...

[Sits on the poolside as he does, withdrawing his arm just slow enough to make Tide's descent an easy one.]

Yet even at this, you and yours have once again proven more resilient than most.

[He settles near the bottom, posture relaxing in a way that it just never does on land.

... it's brief, but his eyes flick in the direction of the sleeping pods.]

...

Yes, I suppose you would know.

[Reaches down to brush Tide's bangs away from his eyes, the motion through the water tugging at the strands in new ways.]

I would, yes.

[… well I guess I feel kind of like an asshole now!!

He's still under the petting for a moment, then lifts a hand to curl around Zexion's wrist, gently tugging him down.]

[Perhaps that is because you are, in fact, occasionally an asshole.

The invitation, at least, seems to be enough. Zexion follows the tug down, slipping into the pool with far less familiarity, but with equal comfort.]

[Better.

It might not be entirely roomey with two people in it, but water has the bonus of an extra dimension. He just blinks through the water a few times, eyes sharp, waiting to see how Zexion arranges himself.]

[Arranging seems to be secondary to sliding the hand that had been petting Tide's bangs back through Tide's hair, cupping the back of his head as Zexion slides close to claim Tide's lips.]

[... oh. Well. Okay.

In the water, there are colors and iridescence to him that simply fade into ridiculousness on land, and each movement is smoother, calmer, and more sure: shifting to press his back against the wall of the pool, hands reaching up and curling back around the nape of Zexion's neck.]

[Mmm, yes. That is . . .

That is nice, and leisurely, and there's no demand on Zexion's part to rush the slow exploration of tastes and textures under the water's surface.

Oddly enough, though it drifts in the current of their motion, little of Zexion's clothing seems to become at all waterlogged. The edges of his coat settle down around Tide's legs as easily as if they were in air, shifting a bit more as Zexion settles down on top of him.]

[It's here that Zexion gets to experience the other advantage of a merpire in its element: the water is as much a tool for pleasure as anything else.

In tandem with wandering hands and an arching back, tiny water currents brush along Zexion's skin, flickering through hair and tugging at clothing, almost playfully. It's a pointed contrast to the exhaustion that still bogs down his physical movements.]