Entry tags:
- arknights: midnight,
- cobra kai: daniel larusso,
- cobra kai: robby keene,
- genshin impact: alhaitham,
- genshin impact: cyno,
- genshin impact: kaveh,
- genshin impact: tighnari,
- genshin impact: wanderer,
- library of ruina: chesed,
- library of ruina: netzach,
- library of ruina: yesod,
- limbus company: don quixote,
- limbus company: vergilius,
- magia record: tsuruno yui,
- original: ghost
[ open ] kaveh's permanent catch-all
WHO: kaveh (
fussiest) & y'all!
WHAT: this is a perpetual catch-all for kaveh because i'm too lazy to make a new one every month. this is for closed starters, tag-ins, visits to kaveh's workshop and the like! be wild! be bold! be free!
WHERE: all around the city, and especially at kaveh's workshop, the pairidaeza architectural design studio in district 1
WHEN: everywhere! everywhen! all at once!
WARNINGS: bickering, probably - everything else will be warned for on a thread-by-thread basis
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WHAT: this is a perpetual catch-all for kaveh because i'm too lazy to make a new one every month. this is for closed starters, tag-ins, visits to kaveh's workshop and the like! be wild! be bold! be free!
WHERE: all around the city, and especially at kaveh's workshop, the pairidaeza architectural design studio in district 1
WHEN: everywhere! everywhen! all at once!
WARNINGS: bickering, probably - everything else will be warned for on a thread-by-thread basis
no subject
[ In response to Netzach, aimed toward Kaveh, followed up by a rather flippant, gentle kiss to his head, where the bone of his forehead dips into the hollow of his temple. As though this is another lazy afternoon in Kaveh's atelier, sawdust caught in a golden spray of failing light around them.
(He reaches for Netzach's hand, holds his fingers in his palm. This isn't forgiveness, as there is nothing to be forgiven here; this is the kind of hold one needs when the sky is falling, or the water is rising, or when someone beloved is about to die.) ]
A reason... Hmm.
[ Midnight laughs slightly, but lets that thought rest in him. Imagine if this wasn't a story. If this was reality, where people die to no fanfare, with no sense of poetic justice. Where people are tossed the bodies of their dead and have to work out the meaning of missing someone where there is, realistically, no meaning at all.
(Midnight thinks rather realistically, actually. It's the optimism that makes him keep such things to himself.) ]
When we escape, let's make a happier story, mm? I promise I'll come up with something grand.
[ Honestly, Midnight's squad A6 would question Netzach's sanity first, then thank him. As everyone knows, Midnight needs someone to check in on him every now and then. Several someones. It takes a village, actually, and he knows it, which really thwarts every inroads on the endeavor, to be honest. That Netzach's so patient with him, that Kaveh cares enough to push him, is no less than a miracle. ]
no subject
[ kaveh says with a smile, because of course he does. of course it's true. kaveh loves the sky. he loves the colour of sumeru's sky at dusk as it descends into the inky blot of purple shadow; he loves the colour of that long-imagined fontanian sunrise, the one that bathes the sky in ardent pinks and purples. but kaveh has always loved being able to build more, and you couldn't build anything in the sky. not yet. and even if you could, the ones who would turn that building into a home are the ones who exist within kaveh's reach. life sprouts from the ground. kaveh is dendro in ways that even lesser lord kusanali likely won't be able to express, though kaveh supposes that even thinking that is a kind of blasphemy. he doesn't think she would mind, though.
what kaveh also doesn't mind - the kiss to his temple, the way netzach mouths at his neck. kaveh allows it because it's midnight, and because it's netzach, and because in no universe could he stand against their desires when they have so little of it. in turn, kaveh's hand reaches up and cards through netzach's hair. he rests it there, warm and fond and perhaps a little helpless. it always came down to vampires in the end, it seems. ]
You are a good influence, Netzach. [ says kaveh, firmly, gently - ] You've made our lives for the better. This, I can say with the certainty that the sky is blue and that the story Midnight has prepared for all of us will be terribly cheesy and my blood pressure will spike because of it. A terrible fate.
[ but kaveh is smiling. the top of his head nudges the crook of midnight's neck, just once. ] Well, as long as Midnight doesn't make a villain of himself again. I'm tired of that particular story.
no subject
[not even here. especially not back home, where every story extracted from living people is written in the ink of the city's streets, its influence in all the punctuation. nothing born of the city is happy, not really.
he's beginning to sound more distracted, though, his hand gripping midnight's a little tighter, head tilting into kaveh's touch with a sound that's very nearly a whine. the story wants him to do this, but you know what? so does he. he's drowning, a little, in the scent that's uniquely kaveh, one fang scratching his neck without breaking skin before he inhales a steadying breath.]
I want-
[to get this over with. to not drag it out too long. to finish this and go back to the way things are supposed to be. to taste him.
the last thought is almost what he says, but not quite, because there is one thing the setting of this story allows to him that reality does not: midnight said he can bleed.]
...I want to taste you both. Before we end this.
[insane thought? maybe. he doesn't really care.]
no subject
[ ... Ah. Midnight looks down at Netzach... Then at Kaveh. He immediately knows what Kaveh wants as well.
He looks down at Netzach, runs his hand up to his shoulder, then to his jaw, watching his breath come deep, slow. He knows that as well.
Wordlessly, he readjusts, opening himself to Netzach. He pulls up his sleeve, he tilts his neck to him. Either works. Whatever makes him happy. Anything that makes him happy. Anything at all. ]
no subject
in turn, kaveh makes room. he shifts aside so that midnight can bare his neck, gently detaching netzach from his own so that he can reach. his wing stretches, up and wide, a canopy for the prying ends of the god and all else that observes this world. this moment belongs to netzach, and to midnight. this moment belongs to them alone. ]
Go on, Netzach. [ kaveh says, and gently rests a hand between netzach's shoulder blades, just so. a steadying one. a calming one. ] But be gentle.
no subject
[to do it wrong, to do it painfully, to do anything that will harm midnight past breaking his skin. he leans in as if drawn by a magnet, lips pressed to the bared skin of his neck, and murmurs a little helplessly:]
Stop me if you have to. Do it.
[it's to both of them, because he doesn't know for sure how this will go. this form probably has experience, right? so hopefully, he won't be lost in what is not technically his first time.
gently, carefully, his fangs pierce flesh just as midnight has done to him before. just where he'd done, but mirrored onto midnight's body. he trembles faintly as he holds himself back from letting them sink deep, sucking at the wounds instead--
and inhaling a little gasp of a breath at the taste. at the proof of it happening at all. the sound he makes, muffled against midnight, is only for the three of them to know.]
no subject
Take what you like, love. I'm fine...
[ Eventually, his eyes flutter open, and he's met by Kaveh's face. He smiles peaceably. I could die like this. It would hurt a bit, but many things in life do, and this one is at least lovely to start. ]
no subject
midnight is smiling. of course he is. kaveh looks. for the first time in a very long time, kaveh realises, there is peace there. he had always known that midnight's smiles were like little pantomimes, lined up against one another, each a differing degree of honesty in pleasure and joy. in this world underneath an unfamiliar sky, it's only here that kaveh has seen this one. instinctively, kaveh thinks: that is radiant smile of a man who has come to his end.
kaveh's hand reaches. it skims first the crown of midnight's head. kaveh says, ]
What a hopeless man you are. You are only happy when you've reached the last of what you have to give.
[ kaveh kisses his fingers, the scarred callused pads of it. he presses that kiss with his fingers to midnight's lips.
then, gently, he pats netzach's back. ] Netzach, I'm sorry. That's enough.
[ quiet as dust: ] I can't let Midnight die here. Not this time.
no subject
then he feels the pat at his back, kaveh's voice finally breaking through. he makes a little noise of complaint at that's enough, but he's grateful neither of them can see his face at that last soft reminder. not this time. not again-- and it had been at netzach's hands before. it had been midnight's throat, and netzach's hands around it, just like his teeth have pierced the flesh now. for a second, the richness is overshadowed by the metallic tang, going slightly sour in his mouth.
he pulls away, careful of his fangs. licks at the wounds, presses an apologetic kiss to them before he straightens once more and leaves a second kiss on midnight's cheek.]
...thanks.
[for letting him have this, a little part of him, while they have the opportunity at all.]
Kaveh? You ready?
no subject
He readjusts everyone to their original positions, hand in Netzach's, Kaveh on his shoulder, gold light reflecting around them from Kaveh's wings, like the speckle of sunlight through tree leaves. He catches his fingers in Kaveh's hair, combing out the tangles. (It really is a good thing he's so warm. Dying is so cold...)
He squeezes Netzach's hand one more time, but says nothing. He's ready. There is nothing he won't do, at this point, to be sure this is peaceful. To ensure that this is a simple passing from one place to the next. ]
no subject
there is a right answer to this. it also happens to be the answer that kaveh is prepared to say. it is, after all, not the first time. it is not the second. but it's odd, kaveh thinks, that it's happened twice from bloodletting, which in itself shouldn't be odd considering the vampire, and now vampires, that he's involved with on a regular basis, but it's still a little odd that it's happened twice now. it comes back to blood, and fangs, and blood in that ever-sifting stream. red diluted by the waters of a tricking river is pink.
netzach's lips are stained with it, the pure, unadulterated form of midnight's blood, the blood that is healthy, and good, and doesn't cause him pain. kaveh lifts a finger, he gently runs it over netzach's lips, wipes that blood from it. he brings it to his own, and runs his tongue over the pad of his finger. it tastes like blood. of course it does. it's rich, it is bitter, it is the taste of iron. humans aren't meant to get used to it, or angels, or sankta. perhaps sankta.
no, kaveh nearly says, he is not ready. this is a world where midnight does not have oripathy, and once again, it is kaveh who ends his world.
what kaveh says instead, is this: ]
Of course. [ kaveh leans in. he leaves a kiss on netzach's forehead, warm and true. ] I'm glad that it's you. Come.
[ kaveh knows how to do it now, how to bare his throat. ]
no subject
[he shouldn't be ready for this. shouldn't have to be. but a story that's already written has an ending determined for it: in this one, three individuals who care for each other ultimately have to sacrifice one of them to preserve the existence of all else, and in this one, he couldn't kill midnight twice.
in this story, he leans in with his lips already smeared a little bit red, breath warm against kaveh's neck, midnight's hand held tight to keep him grounded. one more time, he reaches for the lines he knows are there.]
...'then give yourself to me, and to the heart of the world. May rivers flow from your blood, forests grow from your body, and life spring from your soul; for I am the conduit of that heart, and through me will you reach it.'
[in this story, the one he plays cannot bring himself to say i love you, i'll miss you, i can't.
the goodbye is only this: his fangs piercing flesh a second time, a little of midnight's lingering blood mixing with kaveh's as he begins to drink, his pace measured despite the struggle of keeping it that way. a steady, easy drain that he'll keep up until he feels kaveh begin to go slack, until he has to work harder at it.]
no subject
He is here. There is no past, no future. When the temple crumbles, the sky falls, it's a snapshot of irrelevant beauty that means nothing. There's only this: warmth, hands, his blood and his blood on their mouths, their lips.
He closes his eyes and continues to sing. ]