御手杵 - O T E G I N E (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
passthrough) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crescentview2023-02-02 03:54 am
passthrough) wrote in crescentview2023-02-02 03:54 am
🌸FALL CATCHALL🌸
🌸WHO: Otegine and many others
🌸WHAT: Closed prompts for Autumn including the date auction cruise
🌸WHEN: From Fall 1 through the end of the month
🌸WHERE: Various
🌸WARNINGS: some NSFW (labelled)
Hit up plotting or my contacts if you would like a closed starter! Open prompts including most bonus effects will be on the event posts!
🌸WHAT: Closed prompts for Autumn including the date auction cruise
🌸WHEN: From Fall 1 through the end of the month
🌸WHERE: Various
🌸WARNINGS: some NSFW (labelled)
Hit up plotting or my contacts if you would like a closed starter! Open prompts including most bonus effects will be on the event posts!
no subject
Is it up to him? It's... never been up to him before. To be the tool, to be the malleable unchanging one, life dictated always by another, comfort always in the instruction of another, worth only placed in what he could do for another... to be given choice for something so enormous, and yet so fragile...
Is he allowed that? That moment of choice, to pick where he wants his present to take him?
...
He has to catch his breath, an emotional pause to look Owen over, to slowly nod his acknowledgement with exhausted eyes that shine over but don't quite tear up. Not yet, not now. He's held himself together this long. A long and trembling breath leave him, in and out, before he intentionally brings Owen's hands back to his mouth - this time, to intentionally brush a kiss against the fingertips. Until his words catch up, he doesn't want the space to stay still and stagnant. The coolness of his touch, the delicacy of the raw power he knows lies behind it...]
I've... never been really good at this even on a good day... but...
[Be greedy. Be selfish. Forget the past or the future... what does he want now?
...]
I want to see the shape of your life.
I want to watch how you learn and fight. I want to be there, to help lead you to victories you can be proud of... to hold you up when you've been knocked astray.
I want to feel dangerous with you. Needed, with you. I want to remember the feel of your hands and know them as well as the grooves of my own blade... so I can commit them to memory.
I want to show you fields of flowers, and worn down streets. I want to watch you be able to connect to the world... I want to see the moment you can recognize your name, and mine, and know that I want them to be together.
I want to be there every time your face turns up with disgust, and when you grow cold with anger, and when you soften with your smiles. I... want to feel safe in your touch. Useful to your desires. Treasured by your words. I want to know that I can break without shattering, so long as I'm in your hands.
I want to be able to know what it's like to live, and I want to learn how to embrace your freedom... as long as I can.
[He brings Owen's hand up to his own face. Cold against heat, a tactile reminder. He's here. He's not there in the fire, there in the void, there on the battlefield. Here. With him.]
Maybe there isn't an Owen for anyone's future. Or an Otegine. But... I still want you, Owen. In my present. Regardless of my future. So long as you'll have me.
no subject
It feels like a vow more then a confession, like there's a weight to this moment that's binding them together, a promise without the words. Not quite, not as risky, but it feels like it may be the closest Owen gets. He's not as concerned about that as he thought he would be, choosing to ignore any "what ifs" that could get in his way.]
That wasn't so bad, was it?
[He feels lighter - the weight hasn't entirely lifted, and there's still so many thoughts and feelings he can't even begin to express tumbling around in his thoughts, but just this much has him feeling... relieved. Happy, almost, which isn't a feeling Owen is used to - not when it's so pure like this, from something sweet like candy and not joy from the expense of others.]
Seems we're on the same page with what we want, which is pretty lucky.
[He leans up on his knees, further into Otegine's space. There's a light in his eyes that isn't usually there, his expression not hiding anything that he's feeling.]
...Can I kiss you?
[In some ways, that might have been the catalyst. Doing something he was so sure Otegine wouldn't want, out of a desire to lash out and humiliate him and take something he assumed would never get otherwise. It was a stupid impulse born from a stupid feeling, but they've gotten this far. Otegine has defied every expectation he's had, and it's just made him feel more and more.]
no subject
His laugh stutters, emotion heavy behind his breath as a smile cracks his face, a mix of both relief and overwhelmed vibrancy meeting that spark and feeling almost intimidated, at where to go with this. This, whatever it was, raw and new and strange. But it was here. And he didn't quite hate it.
His hands gently raise to drift his finger tips against Owen's jaw, a hesitant nod quickly turning into a confident one, a desperate one.]
...
Y-yeah.
I'd like that.
no subject
(There is still a part of him who wants to keep kissing Otegine, to get lost in the comfort of him, but it’s not the time or place for that. Not with their emotions still raw and exposed, like nerves plucked from their bodies.)
He rests his forehead against Otegine’s, eyes closing. He feels fuzzy and fluffy, everything else falling into the background. All of his words have left him, tipping out of him with his worries. He can let Otegine do the talking for once, give him the space to keep voicing his desires. They’ve found a together, so he can see about easing up on some control. Willingly, at least.]
no subject
They're left in a delicate silence, cool against warmth, Otegine not wanting to remove his hands from where they rest at Owen's jaw, Owen's chest, as though breaking the distance will snap the moment they've given for themselves. Beyond that, though, churns the same maw that still dug at him, the same exhaustion that made it hard to open his eyes... and with his emotions turned to full exposure, it grows hard to ignore that even now, even in such a happy moment, he still feels tense.
With a slow and shaking breathe from his nose, Otegine slips the touch of his forehead away to lower against the wizard's neck, leaning into Owen's weight, pressing a temple to his pulse point as both hands go limp, hesitant, wanting to touch but not knowing where.]
...Stay with me. Please. [It's quiet and hoarse. His breathing still shakes.] Just... for a little bit.
no subject
For now, at least.]
Of course. I'm not in any rush to go anywhere.
[Why would he want to leave Otegine in this moment? That's the complete opposite of what he wants! He didn't go through all the effort of talking to every bird he could find, including Otegine's own chickens, just to have an emotional conversation and then leave.
But he leaves that chiding be, as gentle as it may be, because he can tell that Otegine is... tired. Owen won't claim to know everything that he's seen and done on the island, and it's quite frankly irrelevant. What matters is that he has no plans to leave.]
Though, if the weather turns, we shouldn't stay outdoors. You can get sick now, can't you?
no subject
[It's the barest of acknowledgements. With Owen's arms around him, Otegine can't help himself. His own hands find their place at the small of Owen's back, clinging to the fabric as his weight slowly goes limp in the wizard's hold, as though his body has been held up by a taught string just cut loose.]
Need to finish my work. [It's muttered. His arms weap a little tighter to Owen's waist.] Can't leave it all for Syr again.
[Even though Syr wouldn't want him to get sick either, or to overwork himself. But he doesn't know what else to do, to make things right, or to make himself feel better.]
no subject
Your farm won’t fall apart if you’re not working every day - and Syrlya can handle being without you. If he can’t, he can just ask someone else for help. I’m sure he has friends.
[“Friends”.]
Just relax.
[Easier said then done, maybe, but it’s definitely something Otegine needs to do before he collapses.]
no subject
[Then what? Syrlya had voiced his understanding, his forgiveness, his trust. It's not like he would throw Otegine out to the wolves. They were friends.
...
His sigh of resignation is irritated, frustrated, a little childish.]
I don't know what else to do. For anybody. It's what I'm made to do, to want to be a useful part of other people's lives, but I...
[He swallows, burying his face into the curve of his neck.]
I... feel like I'm going to crack in half, Owen.
no subject
But it’s the entire reason Otegine exists, to be useful to the humans that hold him. That mindset has had centuries to define him, and you can’t change a lifetime in only a matter of months.]
You won’t be useful to anyone if you can’t do anything.
[Which he feels is obvious, but it still needs to be said.]
You have limits, now. You’re flesh and bone and flesh and bone gets tired, weary. You have a heart that can only endure so much.
[Hums.]
To be as useful as you can be, you have to pick your battles.
no subject
Ugh. He knows Owen is right, though. He knows why the saniwa did this, but this human body still sucks so much.]
Doesn't help that I went and lost my mind for a day... I can't stand how I feel around everyone now. I made myself look like an idiot and I hurt a lot of people... what kind of a weapon goes and does that?
[And he had to see Owen have a disgustingly good time. Good content, but his self esteem sure still hurts a little if he looks at it too hard.
Mmmgh. He grumbles a bit, voice muffled against Owen's shirt.]
Get kind of tired of being told I'm a good person. 'M not a person. Nobody gets that.
no subject
Weapons are made to hurt, aren’t they?
[He can understand being upset or frustrated over not acting like yourself - can’t really relate on being upset over hurting other people, really, he usually enjoys doing that - but it does seem like silly logic to Owen. A very inhuman viewpoint, but sharp steel hurts even if it cut is clean.
Anyways.]
Don’t take humans projecting on you to heart. They tend to do that because it’s easier then understanding something they can’t comprehend, and trying to convince them is just wasting your breath.
[Which. His attempts at convincing Otegine he was a bad person ended up being a waste, so he thinks that just proves his point? Somehow?]
“Good” is a word who’s definition changes depending on who’s in charge, anyways. It’s basically meaningless if people can’t agree on what makes someone “good” or not.
[Could he be less cynical? Probably, but he’s old and he’s tired.]
no subject
As far as it all being meaningless...]
I mean, maybe... I don't think that poorly of everybody around here, though. I can guess what they're trying to say. Uh. Sometimes. Kind of like when I tell you I don't think you're as bad as you insist. Just... not to me, anyway.
I don't mind it all the time, but... it gets easier to not bother talking about a lot of things when you know no one will really get it. And then you just... never talk.
[And you end up lonely and overwhelmed and feeling very silly about yourself in a field of birds.
There's a beat of silence, a sheepish press of his lips against Owen's neck.]
...I'm sorry, if I've ever made you feel this way. This... it's frustrating.
no subject
[Don’t worry, there won’t be any exorcisms. Bad vibes are welcome here.]
People like you, even if they don’t get you. Could be worse.
[A lot worse.]
Shouldn’t let them not getting you keep you from talking, though, otherwise you’re just going to end up feeling miserable and shabby all over again.
[Otegine’s not like him, not like this. He wants to be loved and treasured and to be useful and reliable. Loneliness doesn’t suit him, and he deserves to be adored and revered. Shutting himself up just because a mortal can’t see eye to eye with him won’t do him any good.
Plus, Owen thinks, he might be able to get through to some of them eventually.]
…It hasn’t been quite the same, but there are still things I’m not sure you really understand just yet.
[Promises, for one thing. Nobody here really gets that, least of all the Goddess if she’s still expecting him to get married. There other, smaller, more inconsequential things… but their deadline is approaching.]
1/2 just for icons its fine
He sighs hard, a slow attempt to right himself with a slide of his legs. No more of this, he's getting cramped... but the touch is still nice, and Owen is still here, and maybe he wants to feel selfish a little longer.]
...Yeah. I... get scared, I guess. I don't want to give people more reasons to leave me behind.
...
I'm not that shabby, am I?
/2
He quietly nods his acknowledgement, straightening himself up so he can look over Owen properly.]
...Mn. There's a lot you've been through.
I'd... never felt cruelty, before that night out on the island. I wish I could make the feeling go away, but... at the same time, I'm relieved. That I had some way to understand something about you.
I don't know how old you are. I don't know how it feels to be as powerful as you. I don't know how your conscription feels, or your curse, or your magic. Or... why a promise is so important.
But... I want to try. Maybe, someday, even if I don't always get it... I want to say I did my best for you.
[With a promise like marriage being the only way off this island, Otegine already felt this whole motive of the goddess was impossible enough for him... but...
...
What about Owen?
...]
Would you tell me about promises, Owen?
no subject
[Otegine moving gives Owen the space to shift, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back against his hands. He kicks him a bit with his feet, but Otegine is just going to have to deal with that for the next few centuries.
He considers him for a long, long moment. Some of the things Otegine doesn't know are things Owen doesn't know himself - he doesn't know his own age. Didn't even know his own day of birth until he started living at the manor with the rest of the Sage's wizards. He doesn't know why he's been afflicted with a different self, and he doesn't know how he could explain his magic to anyone else and he's never met anyone who's magic has worked quite the same. It's simply what he's found worked for him.
Those are things he doesn't know, so he can't expect Otegine to know.
Promises, though...]
Wizards cast magic with their heart, so that means a wizard's heart is the source of their power. Betraying their heart... will leave the wizard powerless. Making a promise from the depths of your heart ties your fate to that promise. If you break it, if you believe you've failed to uphold that vow you've made, you'll lose all of your magic. You'll be left with nothing.
[A beat, to let that sink in.]
It's a death sentence.
no subject
When Owen continues, Otegine listens, eyes slowly widening as the touch against Owen stills, a warm press to ground him, a sign he's paying attention.
Part of it rings a little familiar - Owen had asked him as much when confronting him during his own promise, as brief as it was. But to hear it fleshed out, definite and permanent...
...
Several questions run through his mind. He picks the one that's the easiest to voice.]
W-wait, but...
Your heart's gone missing, right? How are you...
[...
Right. He didn't say as much, did he? He cuts himself off with an apologetic look.]
I... felt it, at the resort. You had it once, and then-- you didn't. But you still had your magic...
no subject
[What is Otegine even - ah. Right.
Owen huffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head.]
Well, it’s true I don’t have mine anymore. It’s hidden away somewhere back home, but I’m not being literal about this.
[He picks at the grass, mulling over how else to phrase things.]
It’s like… your soul. The core of your being that makes you who you are beyond your flesh and your bones. You feel the pain in your chest when your emotions overwhelm you, right? That’s the “heart” I mean.
[Though. Huh. He hopes nobody’s gone snooping for his heart while he’s here… That could be bad. Does time pass while they’re here? He’s never actually thought about it before now…
Hm. That’s something for him to worry about later.]
no subject
[That heart. The sense of existence that always felt so colorful and complicated.]
That's why you got after me so fast, then... back during the storm. [No matter how he may have meant it, then or now, he wonders if Owen thought the whole act was belittling and tonedeaf.
Maybe it was.
...
More importantly, it does bring their deadline into a disturbing light.]
...
Is it all promises? No matter what kind?
no subject
[There are a lot promises you can make, if you think about it. A lot of pledges and vows a person can take, but what counts as a promise?
Owen’s not sure of the answer. Snow and White would probably know, but he had never had a reason to demand they share their knowledge. It had never been relevant to him before.]
So I don’t know. Marriage counts, but some wizards still get married. Some are confident they can uphold those vows, but then they fail and lose their magic. Some end up widowed but they believe they upheld their promise to their beloved.
[He shrugs, frustrated. It’s complicated and inconsistent; hearts and spirits are both fickle things, after all.]
There’s no real answer.
no subject
But...
She won't let any of us leave without that.
[Not a chiding, but a somber realization.
Owen has to choose between being trapped away from his home forever, or making a vow to someone he's only known for a handful of months that could merely become a ticking time bomb for his own safety.
...]
Have you talked to her about this?
no subject
No. She’s stubborn, and we don’t exactly see eye to eye.
[He hasn’t bothered to hassle her since she killed him, really.]
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He adjust his seating to slide himself next to where Owen has stretched out, a careful raise of his hand to lift against Owen's face, to run his knuckles against the skin.]
We'll figure out a way, then. Maybe we can talk some sense into her. If she was powerful enough to bring us all her and strip us of everything, then... maybe she can offer other things, as well.
It's not like I'm going anywhere, either. She can be as stubborn as she wants.
no subject
Maybe. The thought of sucking up to her makes me want to throw up.
[On the other hand…]
Maybe she’ll get tired and kick us out.
(no subject)