crescentview | winter catch-all

[Concern grows heavy on Otegine's face. The growing silence is eerie when Owen normally loved to have the last word...

The goddess, maybe?

His jaw sets with a nod, turning his attention back to the door to get it open and lead Owen in.

Only when the door's closed behind them and his boots are properly kicked off does he speak again.]

What happened?

[Owen’s never played charades before, so he’s admittedly at something of a loss right now. How do you explain abstract concepts with just gestures…

He brings his hands together, crossing his thumbs and making a pair of wings out of his fingers. He flaps them for a bit, before crossing his arms in front of him in an “x”.

Then he brings a hand up, dragging his thumb in front of his throat.]

[owen did you try to fly and snap your neck is that what he's seeing here

It takes a few seconds of gesturing for him to realize what's going on, a mild flair of understanding behind the confusion. Owen can't talk. It stalls his mouth, trying to switch his focus.]

I.... okay, hold on...

The first one. Flying? Or... do you mean the goddess?

Something didn't work, and you... [He lost his voice? But no, he's seen that gesture before.]

...You died?

[He shakes his head at “flying”, then nods at “Goddess”.

He holds a hand up, pointing at his ring finger with the other. Even if Owen hasn’t seen any of the rings from the feathers yet, he knows marriage and weddings involves exchanging rings. Maybe that’ll help Otegine get the picture-

Oh.

Picture.

He makes a gesture with his hand, mimicking writing. He can’t actually use his words, but maybe he could draw it out better he can motion.]

[It's a good suggestion, and one he should hunt down, but the flair of anger that suddenly passes over him stops him from running for something to write with immediately.]

You tried to get a feather.

It didn't work. And she killed you?

[More nodding, Owen crossing the space between them and cupping Otegine’s cheeks with icy hands. He sees that anger, and he doesn’t want Otegine to go storming off or doing something stupid. It’s an odd desire to soothe, as they stand awkwardly in the front entry to the farm house.

Hopefully Syrlya isn’t around because then Owen might have to kill him.]

[It's probably for the better, since the second Owen nods a "yes", Otegine is cursing under his breath. The cold touch to his face keeps his temper from spiking any higher, though, lip catching between his teeth as his eyes settle back to Owen, anger never leaving but instead clouding back with that same concern, with guilt that snakes in, cold and weighted.]

No wonder I couldn't find you... [It's hard not to let his mind go immediately where it pleases. He should have been there. He promised. If the goddess was still barring him, there was nothing he would have been able to do but watch... but still, there had to have been something.

...

His eyes screw closed, hands slipping to rest atop Owen's own - to try and let the emotion pass, as ugly and awful as it feels. He's not the one who died. He has to put it aside.]

...Come on. I'll get more wood for the fire, I've got paper and all that on the dining room table. [Not that he has had time to mention his project to Owen yet, but he can get more. He'll gently pull Owen's hands free to start leading him towards the couch, pausing only to swipe up some of the paper and a pen from the table on the way over.]

[Will he ever get used to how it feels to watch the emotions crossing Otegine’s face? It doesn’t seem like it, with the way his chest twists at the guilt he sees. He doesn’t want him to feel guilty, because he knows exactly what it is that’s eating him.

He lets Otegine lead him, mouth pressed into a thin line, but his expression softens when he sees the couch. He remembers being bundled up on it during the hurricane, Otegine asking for a kiss, and the cheeky look he had afterwards. That memory is a nice distraction from his death, and… he wonders if Otegine remembers it. He has to, right? It was only a few months ago… He can’t place why the thought of Otegine forgetting hurts as much as it does, but he’s right there in front of him so he can push that thought aside.

He flops backwards onto the couch, motioning for the paper and pen. Time to see how this works out.]

[He'll hand his contraband over without question for Owen to work with, foregoing the couch to instead stoke what remains of the fire he'd set earlier in the morning, adding to the fuel and working on lighting it back up by hand.

It's only when he's done that he looms back over the couch, dropping to a seat next to Owen. It's been a while, hasn't it... since the summer, the hurricane, where they sat just like this with paper and pen and a roaring fire, and Owen had opened himself a little more than Otegine had expected.

He doesn't interrupt whatever Owen's scribbling out. But he does put a hand against his leg, the touch firm and warm and waiting.]

[It’s not a fantastic drawing, Owen taking inspiration from Otegine’s stick figures on his bingo card to create… a masterpiece. It’s rudimentary, but it gets the point across.

He talked to the goddess about feathers, she denied him, Owen got angry, she was angry, Owen got crushed by a cow and some hay.

Again.]

[It just confirms what he already sorted out, save for one detail.]

...You just asked her about the feather? That's it? And she... she still said no?

[That's even more strict than how she'd been with him, if that was the case.]

[Well, that had certainly been the goal, but the conversation had been a bit derailed with the talk of promises…

He doesn’t know how to just draw that out, though, so he just shrugs, nods, then shakes his head. Yes and no.

He draws another, angrier stick figure of the goddess.]

[Yes? No? Okay, well, that tells him it isn't that simple, which is a relief of its own even if this situation is still horrid.]

So... She did it because she was angry. Not just because of the feather.

[How did she get that angry? Well... he doesn't feel he even needs to ask that much. Owen had a way with words that didn't really lead to calm discussion.

His grip against Owen's leg rubs in a circle, briefly.]

You really must have gotten under her skin with what you had to say, huh.

Did she give you any expectations, or was it just a, uh... a flat no?

Edited 2023-03-15 20:17 (UTC)

[He’s great at goading people into killing him. It’s a talent.

He taps his chin, then draws a stick figure kneeling in front of another one, arms up with an oversized ring between the figures. (i’m not home so no visuals with This One rip)

People get on one knee to propose, right? So Otegine should get it. She wants a vow, no question, no compromise, if they doubt it can be kept then they have no right making one.

Owen still thinks it’s a stupid condition. He shouldn’t have to promise to be by Otegine’s side to have him there for the rest of their existence. Stupid goddess and her stupid rules.]

[It's a far more western proposal, but he gets that much of the concept immediately.]

Just a proposal, then. I guess she really won't accept anything less.

[So they're back to square one, with less time and only a death and a ban and a curse to show for it.

Otegine's lips thin in a moment of silence, thinking something over.]

Owen, if... if you asked her for it, then... does that mean you've made up your mind about it?

You're sure that's what you want?

[Owen pauses at that question, turning away from his paper. The answer seems so obvious that he’s surprised Otegine would even ask… but he supposes he’s not exactly the easiest to read or the most communicative, even for people who aren’t new to actually having to communicate.

He sets the paper and pen to the side, because he doesn’t think he needs them right now. There’s a lot he could say, if he were the type to make dramatic monologues, and a lot of things he could try to draw out, but it would all just be meaningless fluff repeating things he’s already said and already thought.

He puts his hand on Otegine’s, meeting his eyes. He nods, confidently, because even if he doesn’t want to promise his life… He knows that it would be the one promise he would ever consider making. There’s no point in trying to deny it completely, even if fear for his and Otegine’s safety keeps him from acting rashly for once.]

[His exhale shakes at the confirmation - a firm yes, a chasing away of the doubts they'd both expressed, of Otegine's worries and Owen's knee-jerk reactions. The danger doesn't vanish, nor does it become a delightfully happy realization of its own. Rather, a solemnity settles over the moment, warm and constant.

Owen was consenting.

Otegine's hands are over Owen's, a numb sort of nod as he tries to confirm for himself, his gaze flicking downward in rapid thought. They were both too furious at the goddess at this point - Otegine doesn't trust a word from his own mouth to her when he knows all he will want to do is raise his voice again. A blessing, an escape... that wasn't for them for now. But...

...]

Then...

[Otegine doesn't let go of Owen's hand as he slides from his seat to the floor, propped up on one knee.]

I... can't promise you the world. I can't promise you that you'll be safe forever, or that you'll always be happy. I can't promise that I'll always be prepared or have the answers.

But...

I want to give you what I can. As long as we have. Even if she separates us someday. Even your heart finds something else, or the Calamity itself takes you, or if my war renders me nothing but rust.

You aren't bound to me. But I... still want to be by you, regardless. So long as you'll have me, I want to help you know kindness. I... want to learn how to love you as best I can... if I can. And, even if this island never allows it, I...

[He feels awful in a way, doing this when Owen can't speak, when Otegine has nothing physical to provide. But he feels if they leave this behind now... it might be a century before they ever come back to the idea.

...]

I want to make you mine. When we're ready. I don't want to do this to spite the goddess, as much as it would give me great satisfaction. She can watch us herself, and see what she thinks.

So, even if it isn't for now, Owen... someday, when we've had our fill of everything, when we have nothing left to lose in this place but a promise between us...

Will you marry me?

[Owen stares at him, watching in confusion as Otegine shifts. Then it clicks, the way Otegine kneels like the stupid little drawing he did, and Owen’s entire mind goes entirely blank.

He hears what he says, he understands all the words, it’s not at all a surprise, and yet Owen can’t think of a single thing as he looks at Otegine. Imagine - absolutely side swept with something he saw coming because now that it’s real he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t speak, no, but even if he could he doesn’t think he could make something coherent out of his thoughts.

He knows there’s no ring for them, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need one for this, and he doesn’t care if the goddess will ever give him one. He nods once, then again, reaching down to cup Otegine’s face between both hands. His lip trembles, and his eyes sting, which doesn’t make any sense, because he’s…

He’s happy.

Why is he crying if he’s happy?]

[It's not what he would call romantic, not planned out or proper or anything close to what he thinks Owen deserves. But he also knows Owen doesn't deserve any further hesitation.

He stays still, attentive, watching in the absence of noise - the stillness of Owen's expression, the confusion that blanks out into something unreadable, then slowly blossoms into a nod... then another, breaking the space, eyes the color of fire glassing over in a way Otegine doesn't think he's ever seen before.

It's a yes. It's a yes, in spite of all the goddess' "no's", and Otegine's chest fills steadily and full with emotion, hot and relieving, like his heart might burst in his chest, a voiceless mouthing of "Really?" as Owen's hands frame his face.

When tears start to gather, the yari's face tightens slightly in concern, a gentle hushing as he lifts his own hand to run a thumb against the wizard's cheekbone. For a split second, he thinks to ask, like he did many weeks ago... but that hesitation comes and goes, instead leaning up the distance to carefully guide their lips together, a chaste but lingering kiss.]

Edited 2023-03-16 03:53 (UTC)

[The kiss is welcome, chaste as it is, and Owen doesn’t want to pull away. Shame Otegine is on the floor, and he can’t demand he get on the couch with his voice missing.

Still, he can keep his hands on Otegine, brushing over his cheeks, through his hair, a constant contact because for some reason he feels light and full of warmth, like he’s swallowed sunshine. Maybe it wasn’t the ideal, maybe it’s not the solemn vow the goddess will approve of, but it’s the first time Owen has thought about a future beyond power.

He’s not just following his whims. Otegine is someone he wants and he will continue to want, and… some day he’ll marry him. He’ll be the best damned bride this island has ever seen.]

[The space between them stays close even as Otegine leans away, just enough to catch his breath. While one hand braces against Owen's arm as thought he might keep the touch to his skull from leaving, the other settles against the core of the wizard's chest.

He wants their lips to be back together, wants to bask in this warm and wonderful and overwhelming emotion. But knowing Owen had just died keeps his touches slow and deep, almost reverent in how carefully he drags his touch to settle over the hollow that no longer held a beating heart, the heat of his skin settling into the rise and fall of breath that showed Owen was, in fact, still alive.

He tugs at Owen's arm at the same time that Otegine starts to slip himself back up to the couch, a silent gesture for Owen to turn even as the hand against his chest presses gently to lay him down, trying to settle the wizard against the arm of the couch.]

May I do something for you?

[Do something for him? Most people would probably think Otegine’s already done too much for him, and they’d absolutely be right about that. Owen absolutely thinks he needs more, though, and the gentle way Otegine encourages him to lay back admittedly has his thoughts running in a certain direction. It’s all just so intimate, so who can blame him?

He settles against the arm of the couch, snatching an extra pillow to support him so he can watch what Otegine is doing. He nods, the best “yes” he can give right now, and keeps his eyes on the touken.]

Mn. Just, uh... just yank on my hair if you need me to stop?

[It's said with a nervous grin as he guides the wizard's thighs to part, settling himself between Owen's legs before leaning overtop him.

Dark eyes soften as he gazes down with a careful touch to Owen's jawline.]

Maybe I couldn't stop what she did. But... I want to remind you you're here now. I don't want to take it for granted.

[To wake up from the darkness, whether by his own dream or what he remembered from Owen's memory... it was always jarring. Not quite restful peace, not quite with relief. But to ground himself after a nightmare with a cold breeze, with tactile and sound and taste, always helped reorient him.

Maybe he could try to do the same for Owen.

It's a simple start, the Touken carefully undoing enough buttons of Owen's shirt so that he can lower his mouth to trace the flesh of his neck and collarbone. As his mouth works, his hands trace - a careful mapping of the body underneath him, first following the length of Owen's arms to his fingers, then the rise of his chest down the stretch of muscle to the line of his hips. It's a slow and careful pace, like the stoking of the fire, prodding and patient.

All the while, he tries to pay attention to Owen's breath, to how his body shifts. He has no voice to guide him or boss him around for now... but he knows Owen isn't exactly the patient sort.

He'll speak up again only when his hand starts to drift towards the pit of Owen's hips, thumb running the length of the seam and what sits underneath. His voice is cautious against Owen's neck.]

...Do you want my mouth? [His press drags against the seaming.] Here?

Edited 2023-03-18 18:34 (UTC)

[Owen isn’t usually treated like this - the closest would be the night on the cruise, but that hardly counts. There was still immeasurable, overwhelming need induced by the chocolates and the massage. This feels more like being worshipped, and that thought feeds into his ego more then is probably good.

At least Otegine is spared from listening to him gloat, because he really could get used to being treated like something precious. Even though everything is so gentle and careful, it’s all because of the hold Owen has on him. A power nobody else has, because he’s the only person Otegine will ever cherish like this. Owen is the only one who will get to experience this, who will feel his hands and lips. It’s a bit strange to just lay here, but he enjoys being serviced. The only sign that he is is the thickening of his cock, no racing pulse or heart to skip a beat.

He runs a hand through Otegine’s hair, a smirk on his face as he nods. Please. He wants Otegine to pleasure him as best as he can.]

[There's a hum of a chuckle up his body as he leans himself out of the crook of Owen's neck, catching that smirk with a softly satisfied smile of his own, draping over him close enough for their noses to brush.]

You sure?

[His touch withdraws, just long enough to bring his hand to his own mouth and exhale hotly against the skin. With the extra warmth, the butt of his palm takes over for his thumb, kneading into the swell building up under the fabric of his pants.

How was it that he'd been before, exactly, that time Owen reacted so well towards him that night at the hot springs... he has to think about it a little longer than his counterpart, and the words don't hold quite the sadistic bite. But he remembers the sensation of it, the power that held his body up with confidence. He might not be an unshakable god... but he still was a Touken Danshi. He could hold his own, even with the powerful man who he was growing to cherish so deeply.

So his own smile grows a little cocky, just as it had after their first kiss, a slight cock of his head to the side.]

Show me?

Tell me with your body, however you need to. Tell me I'm yours.

[And with that, he leans in to lock their lips back together, a far more passionate attempt than his previously chaste kiss, letting his hand continue its work to make sure Owen would be perfectly ready and waiting for his mouth to take over.]

Edited 2023-03-26 02:10 (UTC)

owen jumpscare

sicklysweet - 2023-04-12 18:38 (UTC) - Expand

gasps gently... henlo

passthrough - 2023-04-12 19:23 (UTC) - Expand

winter catch-all

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Nsfw from here, tagging for the flatview

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Can't believe im using notegine icons seriously

owen jumpscare

gasps gently... henlo