🌲 winter catchall 🌲

[pactmarshal]

❄️ WHO: Trahearne & u baby!
❄️ WHAT: closed starters for winter
❄️ WHEN: all throughout winter
❄️ WHERE: all over the island
❄️ WARNINGS: to be added in thread headers (definitely nsfw)

Comments

💍 for syrlya

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne began to fret a little as he watched the days tick by and winter approach, knowing his window to repay the favor quickly closes. He wonders if Syrlya will think him ungrateful, or think he forgot. Even though it's out of his hands--he's not the one making it, after all, it's far out of his skill range--he knows he has no choice but to swallow his impatience and wait. Maybe it's not something he should fret over, but at the end of the day, he is a worrier. It will be done when it is done. And it happens to be ready when winter rolls around.

So it's a lovely, almost perfect coincidence when the feather procedures come to light at the same time.

Well, he thinks. Better late than never at all. And what better way to accomplish both--at the same time?

Trahearne arrives at Syrlya's farm with no prior warning. He has an opaque bag slung over his shoulder, and a small container in one hand. There's a flutter of nerves in the brief moment he stands frozen at the door. But he does knock. Eventually. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[With winter rolling in, they couldn't have acquired a greenhouse at a better time. Syrlya is just returning from planting seeds in there and uprooting the plants from fall that have been picked bare and won't survive the winter. So he's a bit messy as he rounds the house to see... Trahearne, standing at his doorstep.]

Oh, Trahearne! I hope you haven't been waiting long. [He flashes him a smile.] Let me let you in.

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne hears the footsteps, readily recognizes them. But he doesn't look up until Syrlya calls his name, to which he offers a smile. ]

There you are. [ He steps aside, giving Syrlya space to do as he pleases with the door. ] Not at all. I hope I didn't come at a bad time.

[chronosynthesis]

No, I was just finishing some planting in our greenhouse. [He figures Trahearne won't care about the dirt on him, anyway. He holds the door open for Trahearne first, before following with wiping his soles on the mat.] Are you hungry? Thirsty? I know it's a long walk.

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne lights up a bit at the mention of a greenhouse. Oh! Syrlya and Otegine have been working hard. He's happy for them.

He enters the house first, briefly wiping his feet on the mat before turning to look at Syrlya. ]

I brought something to eat, so tea or the like will be fine. [ He holds up the container in his hand. It is opaque. ] You don't mind if we sit on the couch, do you?

[chronosynthesis]

Not at all. [He dusts himself off before closing the door, then heads right for the kitchen to get the kettle going.] You can get settled in there, I won't be long!

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne only smiles in response as he watches Syrlya go. He's doing a very good job at keeping his fluttering nerves in check, but--he'll be fine. They'll be fine.

So he heads to the living room, taking a spot to the side. He sets down the bag gently by his feet, and the container on the coffee table. After a moment of waiting, he begins to open the container--inside, there are three slices of apple pie, still warm. ]

Mirror, Mirror (NSFW)

[chronosynthesis]

[Of course Syrlya noticed when two of the squares on his card mysteriously changed. Was that the goddess' way of saying his intimate life wasn't satisfactory? Or was it meant to make things easier since he clearly failed to fill them after the first time?

He decides not to contemplate that too much. Instead, next time he and Trahearne are comparing bingos he notes that (as the one with far less done) Trahearne's room had a mirror that seemed like it would be appropriate for the task. Surely he wouldn't mind.

And that's how they're back here, Syrlya looking at the mirror as he removes his clothes.] I suppose we simply... need to have sex in front of it? I can't imagine how else a mirror would be involved.

[pactmarshal]

[ Syrlya thinks right. Trahearne doesn't mind at all!

When the other speaks, Trahearne looks up from tearing away his own leaves and into the mirror, catching Syrlya's eyes in the reflection. ]

No, neither can I. [ Off come the vines on his waist, the bark. If he doesn't have a compost bin specifically for his clothes at this point, he does now. ] I can't say I understand why it needs to be its own square, but...

[ Now bare, he glances over his shoulder at Syrlya to look at him in real life. ]

...I think we'll find out soon enough.

[chronosynthesis]

I suppose we will. [He rolls his tights off, depositing them on the bed with the rest of his clothes, and then stands to face the mirror. Idly, he can't help but look over himself in it... and peeking glances at Trahearne as his form flickers in and out of view.]

Well, we don't want to break it so on top isn't a good idea either.

[pactmarshal]

[ With all his clothes deposited, Trahearne briefly stretches. His eyes quickly take in Syrlya's naked form before he goes to him. ]

No, we don't.

[ For a moment, he stands at his side, but quickly decides otherwise. He takes a step back, putting himself behind the other, and he wraps his arms around his waist, cradling him. He looks at both of them in the reflection, eyes unabashedly settling on parts of Syrlya normally covered. ]

But I think this will be just fine.

[ He tilts his head, planting a kiss on his ear. ]

You're beautiful.

[chronosynthesis]

[That's like 90% of Syrlya's body.

He leans back into Trahearne as his arms snake around him. Syrlya's hand rests on one, before sliding down to Trahearne's thigh.] You're too kind.

[pactmarshal]

[ A low chuckle rumbles in Trahearne's throat. As Syrlya's hand slides down his thigh, he shifts that forward, rubbing the inside of his leg against the outside of Syrlya's.

His head lowers further, placing a feather-light trail of kisses down his jaw and to his neck, taking in the texture of his skin on his lips as he does.

His eyes never leave Syrlya's reflection in the mirror. ]

after bodyswap nonsense and a few conversations

[yourlenore]

... Thank you, everyone, for coming. I'm not much of a speaker for these matters, so you'll have to forgive my clumsiness of speech.

( Because, hoo boy, do they need this, as much as he is loathe to admit.

In Adelis's house, likely the living room, Mishka has them all situated wherever they're all the most comfortable; for Mishka, it's besides Adelis, wherever that may be.

He'd not particularly wanted this conversation; he had imagined this strange flicker in his chest Trahearne had somehow lit would, in time, fade. It just hadn't been fading fast enough. Perhaps this much he could opt to manage on his own, if not for the fact that Syrlya had also chosen to take charge of his own feelings, and, for Trahearne's sake, had attempted to cut Adelis off.

No matter how expertly Mishka might try to address the matter of Trahearne, there's nothing to be done when Adelis is so tangibly upset over Syrlya's departure, even if he doesn't have the language for it. Mishka watches him, and he knows. As Mishka suspected, Syrlya's presence has sizeable heft upon Adelis, and that he doesn't fully understand the extent of it, despite claiming to know Adelis so well (or, perhaps, that he understands, but placed Trahearne's peace of mind over Adeils's own), frustrates him.

He hadn't been particularly specific when inviting the three of them to the conversation, though he suspects they all have an inkling, considering he said he thought they all ought talk about one another.

And so, here he is, opening a conversation he does not really want to have, bringing to the forefront his feelings which he does not like to acknowledge, about anything. )

I think it would be a boon to admit that the four of us are— in some particular way, entangled, and, in attempting to tear ourselves cleanly apart, we have left uncomfortable lacerations.

( Either unto the person they're pulling away from, or unto their partners for whom they are trying to pull away. )

I do not ask for one particular conclusion so much as I ask that we find a conclusion we all agree with, sincerely.

( And not kowtowing just for their partner's perceived happiness... that is going to be a challenge. A little hypocritically, he proceeds with a more specific prompt for conversation: )

Myself, I believe that pulling away for one another does not serve its intended purpose. ( Syrlya, ) Is this disagreeable?

smh

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne is a little surprised that it's Mishka who initiates the talk.

It had stung considerably to know Syrlya "broke up," in a sense, with Adelis because of him. It stung to know that he, himself, was--is--has been a thorn in Adelis's side constantly, for a while. It stung to know that he saw the way Mishka looked at him--looked at Adelis, and wished he had that for himself, too.

This, whatever this is, was getting too complicated, too out of hand. A talk is long overdue, and though he knows he's the one that should get the ball rolling--he is the firstborn, the marshal, leader in many senses, after all--the tangle of unfamiliar feelings weighs him down and has him drag his feet. So there is guilt, yes, that it ends up in the hands of another; there is stress that his own wedding looms near and it bothers him; there is the slight sadness knowing that Mishka and Adelis will be coming with them to Tyria, and this strange rift among all of them might persist into their future lives. He doesn't want that.

Trahearne arrives at Adelis's house and is shocked by the sudden deluge of thoughts that are not his own. Mishka--has he been a thorn in Mishka's side, too? That upsets him. He doesn't want that.

It seems he's been nothing but trouble for all three of them.

But he swallows the melancholy that pricks at his chest, and he puts on work mode. A side of him Mishka or Adelis likely have never seen before; one that might be a nostalgic sight for Syrlya. He walls off his feelings, pulling the rusted hinges shut and clips on the lock, the diplomatic gears in his head whirring loud enough to drown out the other's thoughts.

Not entirely, though. ]

If I may, [ sorry Syrlya, Firstborn is talking, ] thank you, Mishka, for taking the initiative to call all of us together. I believe such a meeting amongst all four of us is long overdue, and I am eager to seek a solution to our...problem.

With our weddings and our subsequent departure to Tyria on the horizon, I would prefer we leave Crescentview on amicable terms so that we may travel together in comfort and remain in contact.

I believe the first step to that is repairing rifts that have come between us.

[ Understanding Mishka's prompt, Trahearne turns to Syrlya, too. ]

I did not want harm to come to your friendship, Syrlya.

[chronosynthesis]

[Yes, Syrlya could guess what this is about. And he's not excited about it. But he's even less excited about the prospect of all three of them following through and discussing his feelings without him there. His intentions have been misunderstood enough as it is.

So, he's there, back pressed tightly to the chair and disinclined to make eye contact for long.

Even when this starts with Mishka and Trahearne both address him, directly and indirectly, and his shoulders square up defensively. Like this is all his fault (and maybe it is, developing unnecessary feelings).]

... Well. [He clears his throat.] If that's the case, are we all admitting to everything? Honestly so.

[And he looks between Mishka and Trahearne, pointedly. He won't spill Mishka's secret himself, and Trahearne... he sees him being professional, in what's supposedly a talk about their intimate feelings for each other. This is going to get really awkward fast if Syrlya (and Mishka) have to spill their hearts out while he's coming at this like a Pact meeting. And it's going to be awkward if this just turns into a group grilling on his feelings. Really, it's just going to be awkward.] Certainly my feelings have managed to get around to everyone.

[(Against my will.)]

[for8000amonth]

[ Adelis is...not particularly thrilled to be here. It was rather obvious, due to the talk he and Mishka had had earlier, but he still didn't exactly want to participate. He was perfectly fine, thank you, just ignoring everything to the best of his abilities, the hiccup with the bodyswap notwithstanding.

He sits close to Mishka- probably not the greatest idea here, in hindsight, but the fingers that coil around his own unseen in the gap between their legs provide both warmth to his bones and an oddly grounding sensation to his mind. It doesn't make him any more enthusiastic about this, but it's...something.

He, for his credit, has not said a word yet, leaning forward with his free arm draped across his crossed knees. His face is relatively blank, although his eyes dart between everybody here with a sharp, unreadable look in them. Having Syrlya in the same room is a bit uncomfortable, however, especially considering what they're here to talk about.

Trahearne and Mishka both bringing attention to it certainly aren't helping.

His gaze shifts elsewhere at that declaration in particular, opting to not comment on that nor how Trahearne sounds like this is more of a bloody business meeting than anything else. ]

There's little use in stating the obvious.

[ Adelis, obviously, does not have much to confess. Clearly. He's just been dragged along for the ride in this opinion, despite the mentions of how he should talk it out- he doesn't see a point in following after someone who clearly has no desire for it. ]

I think otherwise would defeat the whole bloody purpose, wouldn't it.

[yourlenore]

( Syrlya and Adelis's pointed remarks about putting everything on the table rest uncomfortably on his shoulders, though he knew he would have to admit these things. He is the one who called for this meeting, after all. He had perhaps only hoped it could come up much later in the conversation, after he'd been allowed to drag his feet for a time.

He he lays a hand on the back of his neck, running his fingers along the brand there; his rare gesture of uncomfortable uncertainty, which he's thus far only offered to Adelis. )

... Yes, well. ( He wonders if all this would have come out sooner or later, and if it'd have been better if it'd happened much later. No use wondering now, but... ) We are at a bit of an impasse. Neither Syrlya nor I intend to pursue our feelings, but the fact that these feelings cause discomfort is plain.

( Does he have to get more explicit? Syrlya knows, Adelis knows, and Trahearne... His gaze flicks to him briefly before he turns it back to the general company. He knows it's inevitable; that Trahearne will have to say, once again, that his interest in Mishka is relegated only to a stalwart friendship, but he doesn't want to have to hear it again. He knows he'll say it for Syrlya, because Mishka would say the same for Adelis. He just doesn't want to have to hear it again. It makes him feel ugly in that bestial way, and he doesn't want to be.

In any case. Trahearne has claimed he is no longer uncomfortable with Syrlya feeling as he feels toward Adelis, but he struggles to believe how true it is. That is for Trahearne to argue for, he supposes, as Syrlya does not seem completely convinced either, if he's persisted with his estrangement with Adelis. )

I think it may fall on the other two parties here to suggest what they would like done, instead.

( hot potat )

[pactmarshal]

[ Well. It seems no one wants to talk. So much for an open and honest meeting?

No. They are not leaving this house until they come up with a solution--whatever that may look like--and Trahearne will see to that. ]

All right. [ Trahearne sighs and gets to his feet, folding his arms across his chest. One by one his eyes settle on each party present, quietly sympathizing with each in what way he can. Mishka--he isn't sure what to make of what all of their thoughts seem to skirt around, but there are bigger problems to deal with right now. ]

First, I want to preface this--Syrlya. [ He glances over at him, his marshal façade melting away for a brief moment to reveal the man that has come to bloom into his own in Crescentview. ] I love you. More than anything in the world. And no matter how we all walk out of this house, that fact will not change.

[ That, he's sure of. ]

And you are hardly at fault here. [ He isn't sure if what he heard was his speech or his thoughts, but he's rolling with it regardless. ] I know and understand you never had any intention of letting these feelings come to light, but they have, and this is the reality we must deal with now.

[ He turns to face him a little more fully. ] If anything, this is my fault. I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, and I allowed that hurt to fester for too long in your heart without acknowledgment or apology. I should have waited before bringing it up. [ If at all.

He turns to Adelis. He knows the man doesn't want to be here, but he's kind of pivotal in this. They all are, unfortunately. ] Which, in turn, means I owe you my sincerest apologies, Adelis. My poor judgment has brought harm to you as well, and that was never my intention. At the end of the day, you and Syrlya are still good friends, [ as is evidenced by how hurt they both are ] and I never wanted to take that away from you.

Which means, [ He looks at Mishka, brows furrowing as he does. Something else is going on with him, but he hasn't figured out what exactly that is yet. ] I owe you an apology as well, Mishka. My actions have hurt your beloved, and it must pain you to see him upset like this.

[ Trahearne is definitely the problem here. ]

👀 honeymoon

[pactmarshal]

[ It's poetic, in Trahearne's mind, that they decide to spend alone time--their "honeymoon"--and cap off their time in Crescentview with a short trip to the mountain hot springs. Their first trip together alone was here, though it did not exactly go...well. Pleasant, but...uncomfortable.

Things have changed now. Both of them--both Syrlya and Trahearne--have been through so much. Though it isn't dragons or any other world-ending predicament, they both learned a lot about themselves, one another, and their bond is all the better for it. They are married now, after all.

The baths are better than Trahearne remembered, and the inn makes it all the more comfortable. The room they get is big, the robes comfortable, the mattresses laid out over the rush flooring as their beds delightfully enticing, and the food delicious--it's hard to think of a better way to spend their time together.

Well. There is.

The night is long, and they spend it wisely. Syrlya brings his toys, Trahearne the bottle, and it lasts for. a long time. A time in which Trahearne thinks of no one and nothing else beside his dearest beloved.

Needless to say, the sleep afterwards is deep, restful. The sun is already halfway across the sky by the time Trahearne wakes--unusual for him, considering he is typically up at the crack of dawn--and he feels spent. In the best way possible. He rolls over to the Syrlya-shaped lump in the covers and drapes himself over him with a quiet, content hum. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[It's probably a good thing they kept the ceremony so simple, because a quick soak and some dinner is all the rest Syrlya needs before Trahearne pulls out the bottle of aphrodisiac he procured. Syrlya can't help but tease a little... but ultimately, the time he had it with Adelis, while unexpected, wasn't terrible. And so he drinks half the bottle, and Trahearne finished the other.

It turns out, that is much more potent that a little bit of lubricant. The rush of arousal encourages them to keep going... and going... and going... Syrlya loses track of the hour, but it must have been at least six spent making love to each other with almost no rest in between.

So when the aphro finally wears off and Syrlya can't come anymore, he promptly knocks out.

He's still out when Trahearne rouses, face-down into the pillow. He slept deeply, exhausted, but the wakefulness tugging at the edges of his mind in the late morning are unwelcome. He doesn't even bother to move.]

[pactmarshal]

[ No response??

Trahearne remains draped over Syrlya's lump for a while, wondering if he shouldn't just go back to sleep like this, but that seems a bit silly.

Reluctantly, he rolls off, but instead he shimmies under the blankets towards Syrlya. He wraps an arm around him to pull him into an embrace, tucking him into the curve of his torso and under his chin. Mm, he fits perfectly in his arms like this.

He nuzzles his nose into Syrlya's hair. Maybe another five minutes... ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya grunts as he's jostled, his body dragging as Trahan pulls him closer. He feels hung over, but he doesn't remember drinking that much last night. Though, after the third orgasm everything is a blur of senses.

He attempts to roll over, but the dull ache between his legs stops him before he gets too far. When he blearily blinks his eyes open, he just sees the wall.] Mm... Trahearne...?

[pactmarshal]

[ Syrlya's voice causes a little sting in Trahearne's head; Syrlya's attempt to roll in his arms is a reminder of how sensitive Trahearne feels all over. His face twitches into a frown, and he grunts, dissatisfied, and holds tighter. Don't move. ]

Hello...

[ But he still murmurs into his hair, because he can't not respond. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Trahearne gets a muffled groan in response. Yeah, okay, maybe he'll just go back to bed.

...

It'll be another hour before he rouses again, squirming with more force as he blinks his bleary eyes open and squints at the light. It's awfully bright for morning....]