crescentview | [OPEN]

[OPEN]

WHO: Syrlya and You
WHAT: Syrlya gets cursed, and then has one bad day after another so he runs away to the hotsprings
WHEN: ~few days after the spring dance until last day of spring. Closed prompts through end of Summer
WHERE: The farm, around town, the hotsprings
WARNINGS: There is NSFW in these parts

[Do Not Agitate the Goddess (mute) | Edge of the Woods + His Farm]

[Syrlya gave it a few days, at least didn't confront the Goddess about her questionable habits at the dance itself. It doesn't go terribly well.

He marches away from the pond, his expression is twisted into a scowl and fists balled. Anyone who crosses his path in the immediate aftermath is met with irritation, and then a pointed turn of his face away as he marches down the path.

After a few hours he's had some time to cool off--though he's still sulking, toiling on his farm ripping up weeds and pushing new seeds into the dirt. If they didn't have to do this to eat, he'd let this goddess know right where she can--]

[Twice cursed (blind) | Other people's farms]

[Luckily, going mute only lasts for a day, and then it's back to normal. For a couple days, at least. Until he wakes one morning to the room being strangely dark, like the sun itself was snuffed out--no, but it isn't the sun that's the problem. It's his eyes.

The morning is a panic. A level of fear he doesn't often feel as he's suddenly lost the sense most important to him.

The first trip is a stumble to the clinic... unsurprisingly, when dealing with a talking plant it doesn't offer any answers except that they, at least, don't seem to be injured. Nobody there accuses the goddess, but an errant magical effect... Syrlya can only think of one person who is capable.

So, his option is to wait it out for now, see if it clears up on its own. That is... not optimal. But ultimately Syrlya can't find any better options.

Doesn't mean he can't try and do what he needs to. So, using a glittering sword as a makeshift walking stick (watch your feet) Syrlya strides out of the farmhouse.

Or rather, trips out of it, hitting a few walls along the way. And then he's on a truly blind path, tripping and crawling over other people's fences with no real idea of his orientation. Just where he thinks it is. The warmth of the sun isn't helping him as much as he wishes it did.

Anyway. Sorry if he tramples your flowers.]

[Make That Thrice Cursed (table) | The Town]

[The blidnness clears up after two days as if it never happened. So not a malady after all, it seems. So Syrlya goes into town to finish errands he intended to before the weekend. He's just headed down the street with a bag of groceries more varied than the limited vegetables from their garden... when it hits.

A plastic folding end table drops seemingly from thin air and smacks right onto his head. Syrlya buckles with a startled cry, his bag tumbling out of his arms and spilling to the ground.]

((His plotting post is over here if you want a more custom starter or simply something else!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A shudder runs down his spine as Adelis' hands trace over him.

What he wants is not a question that often runs through his mind. His life has been carefully guided by forces beyond him, burdened with a duty he world be condemning the world by abandoning. What he wants--what defines who he is outside of the blade he carries is still a fresh and unanswered question.

But the roiling desire growing makes trying to actually think about that difficult. He's at the edges of feelings he's experienced before, and rapidly about to enter unknown territory.

And Adelis is asking about his bingo, anyway. His petal-lips part as Adelis' nare hand drifts closer--cold, smooth skin on cold, smooth skin--and his fingers curl against the edge of his corset.] Well, now I am curious what you consider simpler than bruising me with your teeth.

[ He can tell, obviously, he's still overthinking things. He supposes he'll have to get used to that, if that's his way- a small obstacle right now, easily overcome with the right effort. He lets the hand on the other's shoulder drop to Syrlya's, promptly taking his fingers and ever so slowly guiding them around the laces of his corset. ]

Hah. That's very cute. [ The laugh is low, as is the drop in his voice as his other leg joins them on the bed to effectively trap the other man in. ] That you think bruising is the only thing you'll be getting.

[ And that's the only warning he's getting before Adelis promptly slams their lips together, letting his teeth sharply nip at the petal softness of the other's lips. Open up. ]

[His fingers loop around the string as Adelis guides his hand around, pulling the end of it taut. The moment seems so slow--and he's thinking about asking for clarification--but then Adelis quickly descends upon him.]

Ah--[It's just the slightest, surprised gasp as sharp pain pierces his lip--but it opens up, his mouth.

His hand at the edge of the lacing pulls down, undoing the knot holding the corset together.]

[ To better way to learn than through action, or so he'd been taught. The fingers tugging at the corset strings earn a pleased hum, own hand dipping down to hook a finger in the laces of his heels, pulling them loose with one swift, practiced movement.

Perhaps, if he had guessed this was where they would have gone, he'd have worn a little less. Well, all part of the fun, in the end.

He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the other's mouth, pressing down a bit further as he tilts Syrlya's chin up in the slightest. It's certainly a new sensation, being wholly used to warm bodies who are softer besides, but you'd never guess by the lack of hesitation. He'll learn as he goes along. ]

[They are both far too overdressed, between all their strings and ribbons. It's a problem Syrlya has a growing desire to work on, were the sensations of Adelis roaming his mouth not overwhelming. He fumbles, clearly unused to the motion but there's an unmissable eagerness as he attempts to reciprocate with his own tongue rolling to meet Adelis'.

The grip of his fingers tightens, and his one hand curls into the lacing to pull it looser and looser.]

[ He does like to see an active effort, so while Syrlya's attempts are fairly clumsy, there's enough enthusiasm behind it to make up for it. It's been a while for him, but there's little rust in the way he meets the eager glide of Syrlya's tongue with his own, the hints of warmth crawling to the surface of his skin once more.

It's loose enough now that the lacing slips out easily, and since he's in a giving mood, he reaches to help pull it off before casually discarding it off the side of the bed. When he pulls away a fraction, it's so he can be heard as he coils his fingers in the taller's shirt to begin tugging it off. ]

I find it far easier to work with nothing in the way. [ Adelis' fingers are deft and quick, but he certainly can't do all the work. That would take the fun out of it. ] So why don't you be good and assist me.

[Syrlya's fingers twist into the looser fabric of Adelis' shirt as his waist is freed. He leans forward as touch as Adelis breaks off, but not enough to meet him for another kiss before he stops and opens his eyes.]

Oh--right. [The tugging up doesn't do move to disrobe him, as it's quickly evident that under the sash at his waist, he's actually wearing a singular dress piece. But he doesn't try to push Adelis off, and instead releases his shirt to instead pull off his own gloves and let them drop to the floor.

He pulls one hand around, unbuttoning his collar and opening it up.] I--may need to stand up.

[ Ah. Mages and their bloody robes. He won't roll his eyes at that, but if he's offering to do it himself, he'll hardly complain. ]

If you insist.

[ He'll roll off then, lazily plopping himself down on the bed's edge himself, only taking a moment to smoothly slide off his boots and deposit them on the floor. Whether it takes a moment for Syrlya to gather himself or not, Adelis will gesture with one tattoed hand, leaning back on his hand expectantly as he doesn't make much of a move to disrobe himself. ]

Well? Go ahead.

[ Yes, he is going to watch. Take it off, plant boy. ]

[Mages and their bloody robes.

Syrlya takes a steadying gasp, willing his arms to be steadier than they are as he leans over to peel off one thigh high boot after another. Then he moves to stand looking over his shoulder as Adelis leans back to watch the show.

A wry smirk tugs the corner of his lip and he turns slightly as he undoes the bow holding his sash wrapped around his waist. That, he lets drop more gently, and with it finally free he can grab the skirt of his robe and pull it over his head to leave only thin tights on his legs.

The way leaves press and wind to maintain a vaguely human shape is probably expected, as is the way his glow travels down his back, waist, and arms. Less visible under all his armor is the gradient teal pattern that colors the largest leaves and speckles his appendages... and a wide deep, concave scar that goes from his sternum to his stomach. It's dry and old, but the size doesn't look like it would have been easy to survive. If at all.]

[ My. Adelis lets his own smirk linger on his lips as he watches, nary moving besides to cross his legs as if this was the most casual of circumstances. A bit tedious, he'll admit, but at least Syrlya seems used to it.

He's not too sure what he was expecting, but he was expecting something out of the norm, and he isn't too off the mark. Blue eyes trail in something akin to fascination, from the glow to the patterns on his skin, and they stop on the scar marring his front- but if it's surprising at all, he doesn't show it. Nor does Adelis comment, because he wagers some things are best left unprodded, a notion he's rather intimately acquainted with. ]

Perhaps you learn even quicker than I thought.

[ There's a soft hum as he reaches over, pulling the drawer on his bedside table open smoothly and pulling out two items in one swift moment before dropping them on the bed. He'll just leave both the bottle and the rope in plain sight whilst maintaining eye contact. ]

I'll let you make a choice, since I'm in such a generous mood. Do you wish to watch in turn- [ He raises a hand to the clasp of his overshirt, letting it pop open with a quick brush of his fingers. ] or do you wish to help?

[Adelis' composed reaction means Syrlya doesn't think twice about it, the mark. It's old by years and he's used to moving with it--but the topic of conversation is a real mood killer.

The robe falls behind him, and then he starts to roll down his tights. There's a pause as he looks aside at the bottle and rope--well, he really has those on hand, doesn't he--and then he stumbles out of his tights to leave a bare covering of leaves that seem to grow off him and keep his groin shielded.

That, he'll deal with later, because right now Adelis has just popped the collar of his shirt and Syrlya wants to know what's under there, too.]

I've always been a very hands on person. [He starts to close the distance between them, a hand outstretched to brush against Adelis' arm before intending to wander to his waist.]

[ Huh. Modesty Leaves™. He should have seen that coming, actually, since he's basically been making out with a walking plant, but it's still the sort of thing that gives you pause. Probably one of the weirder things he's seen in his life, but at this point, might as well just go with it. ]

Are you, now? [ He shrugs and lets the overshirt slide down his arms, pooling at his wrists before he reaches out to curl his fingers around Syrlya's wrist as it travels closer to his waist.

Not to pull it away, no...rather he takes it and guides the other's hand to the edge of the soft-white of his shirt, before letting it slip upwards to press against the skin hidden underneath. While it's not as warm as most are yet, it's still a good deal warmer than it was before. ]

Then go ahead and show me exactly how much of one you are.

[Syrlya's palm presses flat against Adelis' waist, his thumb rubbing the skin as he feels the hints of warmth. His gaze flickers down, and his smile widens with a jolt of excitement.]

Gladly. [His other hand reaches up, to thread between locks of Adelis' hair--and he leans in for another kiss as the hand on his waist wanders up, dragging the shirt along with it.]

[ With that hand tangling through his hair, Adelis lets his own free one snake upwards, curling around the back of Syrlya's neck and ghosting the waxy skin with a scrape of his nails- just a taste, for now, of what he'll be doing.

Head tilting upwards into the kiss, he meets it with another intrusive glide of his tongue, while the cool evening air hits his skin and earns a mild shiver. For how he looks, he's surprisingly not delicate at all- the curve of his stomach with taut with lean muscle, and the shirt lifting further will reveal a handful of nicks and cuts and then some oddly shaped scars. By his hip, his side, and if Syrlya's fingers explore, one on his back as well- shaped like starbursts, almost, even if fully healed. ]

[Syrlya's fingers traces the edges of the scars, crossing over them as his hand wanders further up. But he doesn't linger. Adelis has known a hard life, and Syrlya doubts he wants any pity for it.

He drags his fingers down Adelis' locks, reveling in the smoothness of them before that hand joins the other on his shoulders, where his shirt is scrunched it. With some reluctance he breaks the kiss, peeking through lidded eyes to mindfully pull Adelis' shirt off from behind and discard it to the floor.]

[ He'd laugh a bit at the careful, exploratory touches, if his mouth weren't otherwise occupied- it is cute. Not entirely his thing, but cute all the less.

The shirt slides off easy and joins the rest of the clothes piling up. He isn't fully undressed yet, but it doesn't stop him from reaching and gripping the rope left on the sheets, idly wrapping it around his hand with a contemplative hum as if testing it for good measure. ]

Do you bruise easy? [ It's not really a question. ] Well, no matter.

[ He leans in so they're still close, one hand idly tapping the other man's wrists. ]

Front... [ And then it glides around, tracing a nail on the edges of his glowing spine. ] or back?

[Syrlya gaze drags down from Adelis' stomach back to his face. Once the shirt is off, Syrlya's hands go back for his hips--but he stops before he gets there as Adelis twists partially out of the way, grabbing the rope.

The hand along his spine draws a shudder out of him, and he leans in a little closer.] That... I will leave up to the expert. Whichever will be best for the souvenirs I will be walking out with.

[Hands. Going back for Adelis' hips.]

[ Well. Isn't he needy. Adelis quirks an eyebrow at that, but merely makes an amused noise in response. ]

I'll be sure to give you plenty, then. I would hate for you to forget.

[ But since he wants to touch so much, he'll casually cant his hips into the exploratory touch, shifting his head away to instead skim the points of his teeth across the other man's neck- testing the water, before there's an experimental nip. Flesh is one thing, this is another...how easy does the skin break? ]

[Maybe he is. It's not exactly that he's touch-starved--but this is all new territory, exciting and drumming up a sort of desire he's never had so encouraged.

So his hands eagerly return to Adelis' bare skin when they can, roaming front to back around his waist and fingers pushing under the edge of his pants. He tilts his head to give Adelis room--the slightest hitch of breath as he feels sharp teeth on him again.

It will only take a moderate amount of pressure, if Adelis tries, to crack the leaves that curl from his collarbone around his shoulders and neck--turning dark with bruising the barest wetness of sap. It isn't close to his veins proper, though, and the flesh under that is denser, firmer, and does not give so easily.]

[ And so he will, since the opportunity is there- marks are marks, and he did say he'd be putting his teeth to use.

The light crack of foliage under the pressure of his teeth is a bit surprising, being used to the give of the flesh from his small number of encounters, but he doesn't let it show. There's no taste of iron, as expected, but the somewhat familiar tinge of sap earns a curious hum from his place in the crook of the other's neck. He's certainly learning plenty today.

Syrlya's exploratory touch will find a few more small nicks of scars, especially with the further down the fabric is tugged, and now his skin has become wholly warm. A normal temperature has been reached, finally. ]

[Ah. Syrlya twitches as he feels the skin break, dragging in a ragged breath. His eyes flutter closed as his mind compromises pain with pleasure--not exactly a combination he's used to feeling, not at once. The rush of adrenaline in battle, the pride of being unstoppable, sure. But this...

His fingers clench, then loosen as he slides one arm up around Adelis' back to drag him in. The other goes down, feeling at his thigh through his pants until he finds the buckle on one of his garters and starts to undo it.]

[ He wasn't too sure of the reaction he'd get, but the lack of complaint says enough. After all, if the other wasn't too fond of it, he has no doubt he'd let it be known. But since there's nothing, he tests the cut of his teeth against the firm skin lying beneath, trailing his fingers lazily around Syrlya's collarbone in the process.

Adelis tenses a bit in surprise at the arm sliding around him, pushing them ever closer, but he offers no protest himself- especially at the fingers groping his thigh experimentally. Luckily, the garters were made for easy donning and easy removal, and he slips his free hand down to assist a little- they come undone with little fanfare, and he casually hikes his legs up to slowly slide them down his thighs and off. They hit the floor with a light clinking of metal. ]

[Syrlya's hand slides up Adelis' thigh, back to his hip as he sucks in a breath between his teeth. His other hand shifts along Adelis' back, fingertips finding the edges of his hair to play with as he tilts his head to press a kiss to his jaw. And then another, closer to his ear where he can speak softly.] I don't think I've ever told you... but you're very beautiful.

[ He is, if anything, only mildly surprised at the lips that skim his jaw, soft voice in his ear raising an eyebrow. He is used to compliments, yes- he's been on more than one assignment that involved garnering someone's special attentions, but this is a bit different from that, his self-confidence aside. ]

Is that so? [ Adelis gives a contemplative hum, as if he's thinking on it, leaning a bit forward as his arm slowly coils about the other man's neck in turn to match the one at his back. ] I would be careful. If you keep it up, I may even flush.

[ He won't ( probably ). Far too affectionate for him. But he's amused none the less, especially as he wraps his hands overtop the other's at his hip and slowly drags it closer to his waistband, slipping a finger below the black fabric. ]

[Syrlya chuckles, his hand dutifully guided to push under the hem of Adeli's pants--and he's quite enthusiastic from there, shifting it down to massage his fingers against his rear. Humans are so much softer.] Now I'm just curious what it really takes to crack your composure.

He pushes forward to firmly press their fronts together--but not for long, because his other hand needs to finally find the button of Adeli's pants.]

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Let's start the NSFW warning now

NSFT (not safe for trees)

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