a catchall through the end: fall and winter

[bluminescence]

WHO: Kaspar Blumlund + others
WHAT: some ota, some closed. auction date and effects prompts, whatever makes sense to put here
WHEN: throughout February-March
WHERE: varies
WARNINGS: mind the headers


autumn
plotting | event
bug eater farm ic inbox

Comments

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar's hand remains warm in Steinbeck's, warmer still when he steps closer and his free hand joins the first. Though eventually it seeks to rest up his arm comfortably as they go. There is a warm relief, in being able to dull the feeling of eyes as if Steinbeck's were the pair on him.

The smell of food is the first thing to draw his gaze away, to unwind his hold and loose his fingers in favor of grabbing a plate. There are so many things that catch his eye, but he pauses at the food from his home in all of its pale and slimy glory nestled among moss garnishes and displayed on platters.

His plate is simple, one eyeless, worm like fish a half moon filled in with the vibrant colors of whatever else caught his eye. Smaller portions, no piling, but no judgment as he lets Steinbeck guide him to their table.

From beneath it, at the bittersweetness, Kaspar extends his foot to try and gently nudge his date's. Leaving it there to rest against him, Kaspar leans over to ask about one section of Steinbeck's pile. ]

... what is that?

[graftage]

[Steinbeck's not picky - of course he's got some stuff from home, with some sort of casserole and pie and other things, in addition to a whole bunch else he doesn't know - but he's eying the other's plate with interest. Its definitely nothing quite like what he's seen before, and he glances between it and Kaspar's face a little curiously.]

[The other beats him to the punch, though, and he colors a light pink at the nudge. The bittersweetnes abates a little, like a reversing tide, and he picks up a little spoonful of the mashed potatoes to offer to the man.]

Its potatoes. You ever had some? [And now, a nudge in return, like a little answer.] They're real good, especially with butter and gravy.

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar takes the offered bite without hesitation, and without taking the spoon into his own hand first. There is no shame in being fed or in closing his eyes to happily consider the taste of it.

The nudge blinks his eyes open for a quiet response. Actually, he isn't sure if he's had them, but he nods slowly anyway. ]

... They're very good.

[ In return, Kaspar slices a piece of his white fish, offering a piece of its white belly speared on a fork. It has the rubbery looking inside, taste, and consistency of scallops in clear water. Only the filmy skin is far more slimy and adds a hint of mineral and moss. ]

... Fae fish. It is, good with many things.

[graftage]

Mm.

[He'll do the same, simply leaning over to take it into his mouth, giving it a few thoughtful chews before swallowing. It reminds him of a river, somehow, something keen and natural to the taste, unfiltered from the touch of human hands.]

Its nice! [A little hum, as he reaches over with his own fork to take another piece.] Did you catch them a lot at home?

[bluminescence]

...

[ Kaspar nods, letting Steinbeck steal a piece without moving back. It is pleasant, the closeness, and he can almost still pretend they are the only two people in the universe.

But the questions pulls his gaze back the poor eyeless fish. A distant look passes, supplanted by warmth. ]

... my father did. He would mail them sometimes, pickled.

[ With that, he takes another bite and quiets himself as the brief wave of nostalgia crashes and he moves on to steal a piece of his own from Steinbeck's plate.

By his movement, it is sort of clear he does not know what he is putting in his mouth. ]

[graftage]

[He notices the distant look, his eyes narrowing ever slightly with a tinge of concern welling up in his eyes - maybe its the closeness, the heat of the food, the atmosphere, but he almost has an urge to pull the man close. He doesn't act on it, but he doesn't pull out of the personal bubble either.]

Pickled fish. That's a thought. [And he feels Kaspar leaning in - the next urge he doesn't ignore, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the side of his mouth.] Haha, careful with that one. It's pepper steak. Might be spicy.

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar is in the mood to relish the invasion of his personal bubble, at least by Steinbeck. His eyes, the only ones that matter, and Kaspar is so lost in his stealthy bite stealing that the kiss has him blink and almost laugh right into into it. It is soft and breathy under a warmed gaze, just before he pops the steak into his mouth. The warning leaves the other man, but it wouldn't have stopped his curiosity anyway.

Ah.

He has somehow avoided anything this spicy before. Kaspar eats it, letting it linger like he does with most new foods. But his face heats red and his expression fights against caving in to his slightly watery eyes and pin pricked tongue. The sound he makes when he swallows isn't as pitiful as a whimper, and not as high pitched as a whine. Mild distress, stifled in his slightly heated throat. It is a sound no one has heard from him before, and quiet as it is, Steinbeck remains the only witness.

Now he really doesn't want to talk. Even when amusement blurs the edges. Like the pain of laughing too much or being tickled too mercilessly. ]

[graftage]

Oh my...oh my god.

[Sorry, his eyes are crinkling in sheer amusement as he sees the spice hit, and it makes him endeared all the more. Kaspar, sensitive to spice? More likely than you think!]

Here, here, drink water! Come on! [Because as much as he's trying not to laugh, he doesn't want Kaspar to choke, either, reaching for a glass to offer to him. His other hand goes to pat the other on the back, lightly.] Breathe, Kaspar, breathe-!

[bluminescence]

[ Kaspar takes the glass and a very long drink, tipping his head back. Whether it was Steinbeck's or his, it is empty by the time he sets it down again. Cool relief is temporary, but the lingering warmth spread by his drink is bearable.

Eyes still watery, Kaspar reaches for another bite of pepper steak. But with a smile he offers it to Steinbeck's lips instead. His eyes linger on them. ]