prismaticrap | ▶ TDM .009

Entry tags:

You awaken amidst the darkness with only a faint light to greet you. Your body is hemmed in by shards of crystals, gently sparkling and possibly pricking your skin. The surrounding landscape is dyed in the pinks and purples of the dusk filled with crystals protruding from the ground, some as large as a skyscraper. Even the few shy moon creatures you find in the wild have strange crystal growths on their hides. This is far from home— perhaps a dream? You pinch your skin and slap your cheeks, yet nothing seems to do the trick. Searching for answers yields nothing but an endless expanse of purple dust as far as the eye can see. You have four options: one, panic; two, soil yourself; three, admire it all then soil yourself; or four, go into survival mode. Eventually, you’ll realize that you’re not alone.

After a day or two of living off the crystal wilderness, a group of people find you worse for wear. They are the gallant Moon Knights from the planet of Prismatica. After the strange phenomenon during the past months when scientists observed the sudden appearance of rainbow crystals in the sky, the government has been feverishly combing through the moon for more Moonblessed to be rescued. You’ll eventually be brought into Iris’s moon government center.

You all may have your usual inquiries — Where are we? Who are you? What's going on? Why did I inhale all those permanent markers in the third grade? — and the Prismals are almost too eager to answer. They tell you about their world and about the first appearance of the Moonblessed as the medical staff give you an examination to make sure you’re not carrying any viruses or biological hazards. If you react violently, you may be restrained and nerfed with a specialized neurotransmitting gun that releases a numbing agent through the top of your spine. Once the examinations are over, you’re informed that you will be provided accommodations on their planet during your stay.

While waiting for transport to be prepared, you may freely roam around the government center. Eventually you’re called back from exploring, escorted to the docks, and led onto a large transport vessel that makes frequent trips back and forth between the moons and the planet. Faces onboard vary from both old and new Moonblessed as well as the local Prismals. The next destination: Prismatica.

▶ Whip It Good
Iris Moon, Government Center (Arrival) and Planet Prismatica, City of Lunatia | top

Welcome to Prismatica’s hub, Lunatia, the city of your dreams! A bustling metropolis lush with bright lights, vibrant colors, luxuriant plant life, and all the conveniences of technology absent from your own world… It seems like paradise to all the uninitiated. After a quick tour of the city, new arrivals can find themselves getting cozy in their new homes.

A Settle in your new home at Level 2 to find new roommates and say hello to your neighbors! City officials will give you directions to the designated districts across Level 2 and instruct you to pick out a unit. Each apartment complex has a different aesthetic, some may look cozy, some stylish, and some bizarre. The free accommodations have a basic living space that can only fit two or three people at most in one unit.

Starter Chromaspace furnishings are provided which can be controlled with the touch of a built-in panel. Examples are color-changing curtains, transforming sofa beds, cabinets turning into tables, etc. Customizing your apartment or moving out will have to wait until you earn more chroma. Until then, why don’t you check out your new neighborhood or explore the city levels? Maybe your new roommates or neighbors can give you a “hand” with allowance for dinner.

B At the Crystarium Moonports is a new family restaurant called Grapplebears, here to serve your favorite dishes from all around the galaxy at affordable prices! The menu ranges from the atomically hot and spicy Chamakshalan curry rice, delectable dragonsaur steak served with mashed space-tatoes, to the sweet and creamy Lunatian milkshakes that bring all the boys to the yard, all prepared by their handsome and huggable bear crew.

As you might have noticed, the restaurant staff is a ragtag group with members from planets unknown to both Prismals and Moonblessed. The waiters and waitresses in particular are tall, muscular, leather-clad bears who take your order by whipping you with a special riding crop that compels you to bark out your order — but only if you ask to be, of course! They might induce you to reveal other unrelated interests so make sure you’re not thinking about anything embarrassing!

If you chat up the staff or customers, you learn more about the restaurant’s origins. The bears say their planets* were also wiped by the Calamity hundreds of years ago, and life for them has been difficult for them since then…

*Further information about these planets is unavailable at this time.

▶ Night of the Living Dummy
City of Lunatia | top

The last vestiges of Geistnacht have officially passed and the first chilly autumn breeze ushers in the new season. The city is awash in giant piles of browning leaves that decorate every walkway.

A To deal with the mass collection of fallen leaves, many buildings across the city have been retrofitted with a new disposal system to help clean up. A sprawling network of automated vacuum tubes around the city will efficiently suck all those pesky leaves right up. While children love playing inside and using them to “teleport” around Lunatia, they have also been known to spontaneously suck up anyone who’s not too careful. You may find yourself falling on some hapless bystander on their afternoon walk, or crammed in a tube with your new neighbors. Lunar Scientia officials warn everyone to be careful of where you walk, else you might need to crawl your way to sweet freedom.

B A pop-up shop in Level 1 is attracting much of the locals' attention, run by a peddler who speaks in a low, elongated hiss and wears a hood over his face. He assures you that his face is of no consequence. What is more important is his selection of wares! In contrast to his cloaked, enigmatic appearance, his travel cart is a Barbie pink explosion of frills, hearts, glitter. He will tell all visitors he comes from the Valley of the Crimson Serpents, which Prismals and older Moonblessed arrivals find odd. Wasn’t the Sanguis moon uninhabitable?

Among the peddler’s wares are adorable, wide-eyed and heavily perfumed dolls in all sorts of clothes a child dreaming of rainbows and tea parties could ever ask for. Hug and squeeze a doll, and you will be greeted by a pre-recorded voice telling you how they’re your bestest friend ever. It’s like they were made for lovin’ you! But if you look away for one moment, you can almost swear you hear a snake’s hiss, its long tongue licking the shell of your ear… The next time you see the doll, its body will be in a slightly different position or location. Is it… following you? Fortunately, a minimal amount of moonlacing will make it leave you alone. You can wait it out too, but why would you?

Destroy a doll and it will later reappear wherever you are when you least expect it, good as new, but leaking from their porcelain heads is a strange pink, glitter-covered liquid. The peddler calls it the “love juice” giving the doll an extra dose of affection for you.

▶ Bird is the Word
Level 2, Greatmoon Groves | top

As autumn paints Lunatia with its golden hues, pumpkin decorations and desserts are now in vogue. This is thanks to Chroma-infused pumpkin seeds, which allow them to rapidly grow in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and colors. The Moonblessed are invited to visit one of the largest pumpkin patches in the city housed within the Greatmoon Groves, where they can enjoy the sight of oversized, colorful neon and sparkling semi-phallic pumpkins, expertly carved to greet you with their buck-toothed smiles.

A The pumpkin patch is full of toddler-sized creatures called hugbugs. When they are not tending to the pumpkins, they follow the Moonblessed around, requesting hugs and treats in exchange for their obedience.

Reward them and they will do simple errands for you and give you compliments. They will also be your personal hype men, talking up your strengths, talents, and physical assets to all those special someones you’re trying to impress. Once you earn their trust, they will be your friends for life!

Ignore them, hurt them, or bully them, and they will cry and place a curse upon you, reducing your self-esteem to nothing and magically forcing you to cry along with them. The effects of the curse may last for up to a week if you’re not careful! But how could you do such a thing? The hugbugs are sensitive and want somebody to love.

B If you manage to survive your encounter with the hugbugs, you are welcome to join in on the Prismal knitting group and enjoy creating your own fanciful scarf made of Galadrian thread, which is known for its bright, golden sheen and aromatic properties. Give it to a friend or wear it yourself, and you will notice a strange ability to attract animals and insects of all kinds. Live out your Disney Princess fantasy! Or a Hitchcockian nightmare. It’s all a matter of perspective as a whole flock of honking birds comes bounding towards you.

▶ Questions
If you have any questions regarding this test drive meme, please ask them in the Questions thread below.

▶ As a reminder, test drive memes are for new characters only. However, current players are more than welcome to use these prompts for their own posts in the IC communities, personal inboxes, catch-all posts, etc.!
▶ As our test drive memes are game canon, feel free to keep any threads that happen here as canon for your character should they be accepted.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( for twenty years, asato's life had been a tiny box — the entire world, a village and its surroundings, told that everything outside those territory borders was a hell on earth. life was kira, and without it, there was nothing. but in less than two weeks that box had been opened, upturned, and poured out; he realizes now that the world is not a box but an ocean, so vast and so incomprehensible that at multiple times throughout the last few days, it's threatened to overwhelm him. perched up on one of the crystals on the iris moon after waking up, peering out over the landscape and trying to understand where he suddenly was... wandering, lost and frightened, at the government center on the selfsame moon. and then there was the shuttle ride, for the first time experiencing what the word "vehicle" meant, and that one could transport themselves literally from one celestial body to another.

the moons here are odd, he thinks, looking back up at the one they had come from as they taxi down towards lunatia. he misses his own, the moon of light during the day and the moon of shadow, which kept them company at night. it is strange, to feel so lonely while surrounded by so many people.

exiting the shuttle, he has no where to go. his indecision is very inconvenient — he stands in the intersection of many other people trying to get where they're going. he's jostled as people push past him, and the sudden contact is alarming, putting him on edge. he doesn't know where to stand, where to go — his gaze flickers from place to place, stuttering, starting, and apparently there had been too long in-between for one other individual who had also stepped off the shuttle a short time ago. asato notices the attention, and something like an electric shock passes through him at the energy in the gaze alone.

he has a strong gut instinct. just the look alone meant trouble. he grows tense, the line of his shoulders drawing like a bowstring.

even as the rest of him is completely still, his deep blue eyes are swift: he sizes the guy up, studies his gait, the body language, the way his hands ball into fists. the weight of his longsword is conspicuously absent from his waist — not optimal, but he doesn't need his sword. ribika have more natural weapons than these odd, fangless creatures.

asato does not answer. he doesn't really need to. his blue eyes narrow, his ears pin, his shoulders squared and set, tail bristling — everything reading that if this stranger has a problem with him, he's more than willing to settle it. )

[ honestly, cain doesn't know what to make of the whole ears and tail thing. that isn't normal back home, no matter how much they throw around the word "alien" or invader, and objectively, if he'd been thinking about that at all, he might have been into the idea of it a little more than he currently is considering his circumstances. more to grip, to experiment with. and it's not if fighting could turn into something rougher and much more carnal if that happened to be in the cards if things went that way, but cain is left sizing the other up in just the same way as he thinks over his options.

if he got in close enough, it could make for something interesting.

so, cain lets his shoulders relax and shrug off whatever animosity he's felt for having been dragged around through space without much choice, confused and irritated both, and to make a point, he rolls his eyes as he steps forward in an attempt to make it look as if he's suddenly lost interest and doesn't care to engage further. when he moves by, like he plans to bump the guy's shoulder, he reaches out with a quick flick of his hand to grab at the other's tail and pull, mostly in an attempt to knock him off balance so he can get him to the ground and crawl right on top of him. he knows it isn't going to be easy, but where's the fun if there isn't a little resistance? ]

( asato similarly doesn't know what to think of all of these cats without ears and tails, but it's probably for the best we don't unravel that ball of yarn right now -- he knows humans are the same thing as Two Canes, entities which the cats revere as gods. and even if he had put those things together, it wouldn't be in his mind right now. asato is not a deep thinker. he is watchful, wary; he is action and reaction, often without a single conscious thought passing between his synapses before commands were issued to limbs.

he works almost entirely on instinct, and he trusts his gut. right now, his gut says this guy is bad news. it's not the same sort of vibe as he got from rai, but it is similarly sour, putting him on edge. were they in a different situation, perhaps one asato was even slightly more familiar with, he would have simply tried to avoid him. but here, he feels a little trapped as he approaches.

the stranger might have tried to appear a little more casual, but asato doesn't buy into it. his instincts are still ringing alarm bells between his ears, so as cain gets close enough to push past him, asato is beginning to angle away, ever watchful and wary, still not trusting --

which happens to have been the right call.

if cain had paid careful attention, he would have noticed that, as asato had begun to carefully turn, he was also in the motion of flicking his tail to the other side, as far away from him as possible. but whether it was because he was a little too slow or because cain was faster than he anticipated, it doesn't really matter; the result is that he does catch hold of asato's tail before he can maneuver it away.

the alarm bells ring impossibly louder, and as the tail is yanked, it's like a strongman swinging a hammer down on the pressure plate in a feat of strength contest in the local fair. a wedge of blinding pain shoots all the way up the central column of his spine and rings into the bottom of his skull -- there was a reason he had been trying to move his tail away, and the reason was, any ribika touga knows that it's their critical weakness. he immediately feels ill, a low, gravelly sound sticking in his throat before it splits into a harsh hiss, escaping through sharp, bared teeth. his response is instantaneous, even if it is incredibly harrowed; a usually very keen fighter is discombobulated by the pain hammering the walls of his brain, the deafening roar of blood in his ears. he turns, blindly slashing out at the offending hand and arm with sharp claws.

whether or not his swipe even finds purchase is only part of the equation, however; if cain had been looking for a cat off-balance, he more than found his opening. with his tail grabbed and pulled, asato is basically incapacitated for several seconds, which is most likely more than necessary for him to hit the ground. the back of his head cracks against it; he tastes the iron taste of impact, and he squeezes one eye open and then the other, taking more than a few seconds to force them to focus on the stranger now attempting to pin him.

who should probably try to make some expeditious and judicious moves in the next second or two, before this ribika goes absolutely feral -- something forecasted by a low, dangerous growl tearing through his throat. )

[ of course he'd noticed. it's why he'd adjusted for the change, unsure what it might have done even if he'd gotten his hands on it, but the reaction is satisfactory, enough to shoulder forward and grapple the other to the ground the way he'd originally intended.

cain's knees hit a little too hard on the ground, but he ignores it, straddling the other so he can use his body weight if he needs to. recognizing pain is easy; using it to his advantage is easier, though he only gives the tail gripped tight in his fist one sharp squeeze before dropping it in favor of pressing his fingers into the tender skin of asato's throat. his thumb wedges itself into the space between jaw and neck, searching for a pressure point even as he curls in tight, and when he leans over him, it's mostly to block out the view of those walking back whispering and wondering what to make of the situation. if anyone tried to pull him off, he'd fight them too. that's just how bad his mood is right now.

and he's not blind either. he can see how objectively attractive this guy is, even momentarily incapacitated. which might be why his other hand is sliding into that dark hair, threading through the strands for a tight grip that keeps his curiosity from stroking at those ears and wondering just what the hell he was. squeezing his thighs into asato's sides, it's a warning to keep still or he won't have any problem choking him. that his arm stings from the claws having dug into his arm probably isn't helping anything here. ]

Ask nicely, and I'll think about letting you go.

[ inches from the other's face, the pull of his mouth is particularly sharp. ]

( it only makes asato resolute to not dare underestimate him again.

asato's entire body hits the ground hard, but the dull pain of impact was nothing like the blinding pain of having his tail pulled — something that he was still forcing himself to break through, the tight grip which remained leaving an after-image of it impressed on the backs of his eyelids. it eased and disappeared, however, only to shift to his throat. the low growling is immediately curtailed, cutting off in what is half a choke as pressure is applied, the thumb pressed painfully into the vulnerable triangle on the underside of his jaw. it hurts, but asato is no stranger to that; his blue eyes blaze with unmitigated fury as he bares his teeth at his attacker, lips pulled far enough back to reveal the pinks of gums.

he gives a first thrash when he feels the other hand wave into his hair, at first in a way so casual it made his skin crawl, but then tightening in a grasp that made his skull ache. the pressure at his sides increases, knees digging into his ribs; he swallows, and the feeling of it against the fingers at his throat feels like his fur being stroked against the grain.

asato is simple — all of his emotions are always so pure, unfiltered. right now, he regards cain with the depths of loathing.

he is still and silent for a moment after the command, almost as if he was considering it. almost. but certainly not. unfortunately for him and his well-being, asato has far more pride than self-preservation. his hands are not being held or otherwise pinned, so he reaches up to grasp at the arm at his throat. he sinks claws into flesh with no holds barred, slowly dragging downwards, perfectly content to rend him with every second he had left until he passed out — if the stranger made good on his threat. )

[ it's an amateur mistake, if he thinks about it, and he does when it's too late.

a loud sound leaves cain the second claws sink in, and when they tear, the rage he'd felt only mildly when he'd been dumped into this city skyrockets, jerking his arm free as blood slicks his skin and purposely backhanding asato with the twist of his fist so that it cuts into the curve of his jaw. he moves faster now, having only lightly threatened up until now, and he corrects the wrong he'd made, wrestling the other's arms down to pin them with his knees. he's uncaring of the pain it might cause, all that weight crushing into the bone, and he curses louder, the shred of his skin throbbing with the rise of his heart rate. ]

I'm gonna kill you, [ he hisses, hand back at asato's throat. it might be an empty threat, but it might also be real. cain's mood is soured, ignoring the tickling itch of the blood as he bears down. ] Unless you change my mind.

[ mercy isn't something he cares to give, but he's never killed like this. he's come close, fights brutal and his anger unchecked most of the time for valid reasons. still, he thinks all of this is completely uncalled for when he'd only wanted a little fun; a fight not so fair but enough that he could burn off all this unwanted aggression. now, it's less than fun, and cain shifts his hand from asato's throat to his hair, pulling up, up, up until he feels the burn of it. ]

( an amateur mistake, maybe, but he's not accustomed to fighting ribika. now both of them know better than to underestimate one another.

asato does not relish in violence. for him, there is no joy in it — no sorrow, no pain, no fear. but also no regret. for years his sole duty was to track intruders into kira territory and kill them, and he had done it without thought, qualm, or question. it wasn't until konoe had questioned him that he had even started to doubt — but in a situation like this, he would struggle to even find that. in a few short minutes cain had stripped away from himself whatever trappings of neutrality accompanied strangers in asato's eyes. he is an enemy. cain's threatening to kill him? that doesn't faze this cat at all; if given a single chance in this moment, he would do the same and walk away without issue.

but that is not his situation. as much dull satisfaction registers in the animal part of his brain at the sensation of skin and flesh tearing beneath claws, he knows as he does it it will come with a cost — it purchases him the backhand across the face, and he takes it with little more than a low, ) ngh, ( as his jaws clatter together. his mandible aches, and he had bit his tongue. or his lip. he can't tell. he just tastes the blood.

asato is fast — he tries to capitalize on that split second afterward, when cain is recoiling, trying to push forward and throw the other young man off of him. but, as he'd discovered earlier, cain is also fast, and a momentary contest of strength lands him back where he started, except now his arms are painfully pinned beneath the other's knees.

he continues to struggle, testing the human cage he finds himself in, but body weight and strength are against him. the hand returns to his throat, but this time he can smell the blood trickling down from the scratch wounds. asato has no joy in it, no, but there is a grim satisfaction in leaving an opponent bloodied.

asato remains silent at first. his silt pupils bore into cain, his jaw set, his chest rising and falling rapidly with whatever breath he pulls through his harried throat. he can't even consider the so-called "offer;" it's nowhere in asato's mind, in the life-or-death mode he's been forced into. he merely lifts his chin ever-so-slightly, blood dripping from one corner of his mouth as he bares his teeth again and spits out one word, )

No.

( this is just where they differ: fighting for him had always been perfunctory, so he doesn't understand the concept of fun in it. there is only the mortal peril of it — which is why it doesn't make him blink to either endanger his idiot life or call cain's bluff. )

[ it could be this place. if cain had a clearer head, he might have realized that or that he's just too wound up to think properly, which is why he'd picked a fight with this – what's the earth animal word? – cat and had let it escalate this far. now, they're both bleeding, and the smell of it is the only thing he notices. that, and the warmth of the body beneath his, how his knees crush down into his arms and the way he breathes around his fingers until he moves them to his hair. cain slowly moves them back to his face, thumb rubbing at the blood and slicking it along the curve of his jaw almost subconsciously.

he's on auto too – fight, fight, fight, fight – and someone would have been disappointed in him for falling back into this, for relying on what he'd known for the longest time. whatever. didn't matter. he wasn't there to stop him. ]

No, [ cain repeats, the word breathy with amusement as his fingers trail back to asato's lips. ] Then I'll just fuck you to death.

[ figurative? literal? he isn't sure what he means by that, but it doesn't stop him from hooking his first two fingers into asato's mouth to part it open so he can lean down and lick at the glint of his teeth. the taste of blood is stronger then, holding his jaw as his tongue follows the slant of his upper lip and in to taste him around that coppery tang. it doesn't matter, either, that they're in the middle of a semi-busy intersection. no one's bothered them, and cain dares them to try, using his thumb to press against the tender underside of asato's chin so he can free his other hand and move it to ruck up the other's shirt.

most of it's just something to make him uneasy and squirm, but cain's determined to push this as far as he can. ]

( the sway of the cordis moon is bright, strong, but for asato it only places a magnified focus on instincts that he already has — he is already a cat, already without many of the social graces that other ribika had had, and the influence of the moon did not help any of that. but when it comes down to it, none of this slots into perspective for asato — he is tunnel visioned, nothing else existing but the enemy pinning him and the obstacle he posed.

it's a minor relief for the hand to move out of his hair; his head had started to ache with the strain of it being pulled at. though having it move to his jaw is not much better. the trail of blood streaks red along the ridge of bone, and he bares his teeth again, twisting his head away in whatever tiny amount of leeway he has.

the tone of his voice now is odd. it twists like a tongue of smoke, a twinge somewhere in the cage of his chest. it causes his aggressive display to pause for a moment, locked in confusion; there's almost an audible screeching of gears as his brain tries to make sense of the odd shift. for asato, fighting and fucking are two very different, separate things. perhaps it is because violence, for him, is so dispassionate. it is still a threat, and a visceral one, regardless of how it is read, but — it's a different one than expected. not that such a thing is completely absent of ribika culture — there are reasons why certain individuals made themselves scarce at the onset of mating season. asato had.

he feels foolish, the sickly heat of embarrassment blistering beneath his skin.

he is furious, and even more so at the encroaching proximity; a closeness which feels more like a dangerous point being made than anything desirous. he wants to bite him, wants to headbutt him, but the manipulation of his jaw and skull make it incredibly difficult. he is in full-body recoil at the hot, slick sensation of the tongue gliding against the bared barrier of his sharp teeth, though not so perfect a barrier with the fingers forcing at his mouth. something odd and traitorous twists in his stomach. he rejects it; a low, angry growl starting up once again in the hollow of his throat.

the outside world doesn't exist in situations like this for asato, and even then, it would not register in his mind as a concern; ribika do not share the same concerns of privacy as humans did, and separate from that, he would not expect intervention or help. crowds thin as shuttles depart, their passengers dispatched and the next not expected for however-long it is scheduled for. but who could know — maybe this is what the kids are into nowadays, a supposedly-feigned struggle in addition to all else.

asato just wears a loose-fitting, vest-like shirt — it's not hard to defeat. though rangy and fairly well-muscled, there's not an ounce of fat on him; sisa is a land in the long, slow throes of starvation, so there is no excess. he tries to twist away from the touch, eyes narrowing. then he tenses up, the muscles of his core growing taut as he brings up one of his legs to drive the bone of his knee sharply into the small of cain's back. once, and then again, at the same time trying to bite at him in whatever capacity he can manage.

uneasy, definitely, and squirming, sure — but asato is a touga, and a cat of kira, and he doesn't fighting. )

[ with the pain already so significant in his arm and the annoyance that's settled hot under his skin, cain isn't under any impression that this would be easy. so many before had recoiled and surrendered almost immediately, not quite so prone to fighting or having the upper-hand, and for one clarifying moment, it's what he has. asato can't escape him, not with his weight shifted heavily over him and his hand teasing over the thinness of his abdomen to brush his thumb over the edge of a prominent hip. he digs in briefly, just enough to really feel it, and perhaps that's the distracting factor that causes him to disregard that movement – a squirm, an attempt to throw him off, something else – until asato's knee hits its target the first time. the second cain moves, if slightly, but the pain slows him down and forces him to take the other blow to the outside of his thigh.

cain rolls, reluctantly relinquishing the high-ground, and he's panting when he pushes himself into a crouch, the throb of each point of contact an annoyance that just fuels his anger. he grits his teeth so hard that it causes an ache to crawl up into his head, fingers squeezing in some pointless attempt to staunch the blood that continues to slowly work its way down the scratches of his arm. part of him wants to return the favor, mark him the same way he's done, but cain's nails are too blunt for that; he'd have to dig hard to get the same outcome, and even then, it wouldn't be exact. but he could use his teeth — ]

Giving up, koshechka? You can't go anywhere.

[ not some place cain wouldn't follow, and from a quick glance around, no one even seems to care that they're covered in blood and facing off with a dangerous air settled between them. at least this gives him an opportunity to think clearly—if stupidly, still. he isn't particularly tactical when his go-to is always straightforward, but since neither of them are armed beyond their own bodies, it makes it a little easier. he'd have to find a way to pin asato onto his belly, keep his limbs close so he couldn't retaliate with his legs or his hands. cain shakes out his injured arm, wiping the blood along his thigh as he stands slowly.

there's just the slightest tilt of his head, lips thinning. ] Say you're sorry, and I might let you go.

[ but he wouldn't, not that easily. he owes him for nearly disfiguring him, and that, more than the original issue at hand, which had had nothing to do with asato in the first place, seems to be what keeps him there. if he runs, he'll chase. if he attacks him, he'll fight. there's really no other option out of this, even if asato does decide to apologize; which, given his predisposition to teeth and claws, seems unlikely too. ]

( the pain that had once lit up his spinal column had receded to a dull, throbbing ache; that, the discomfort in his jaw, the cut in his mouth, these were all things asato could mentally compartmentalize. pain is something he understands; most of the time, it is predictable. his mind is a very simple machine, and he methodically strips away all but the most required, necessary information in any given time of duress or strife. he cycles through all possibilities, testing at every potential action, searching for any weakness. he just needs him off of him. if he could accomplish just that, everything about this would change.

he ignores the hand roving over his abdomen and the thumb at his hip; he mentally strips away what would prove to be a distraction, refocusing. his upper body is thoroughly disabled, so he had to resort to his legs. he can feel the shudder of impact pass through the person pinning him to the ground, and in feeling that, something sparks to life in asato's blue eyes. his chance. he puts everything into the next thrust of his knee, twisting the rest of his body with it so that, in one rush of action and reaction, he's finally gotten cain off of him. he takes absolutely no time to right himself, catlike agility becoming apparent as he recovers himself up into a crouch, head lowered, before his opponent would have a chance to look back towards him.

asato is dead still. silent as the grave. he has very carefully moved his tail behind him, coiled and invisible. he would not make the same mistake again.

he doesn't know what he'd called him, but his tone gives him context enough. asato's dark ears flick back, his lightless eyes unblinking and fixated. he does not seem interesting in running. regardless of whether or not they would claim him, he is still a cat of kira, and his pride would not suffer it. he thinks for about the fourth or fifth time that he wishes he had his sword. but he does not feel threatened. he has teeth and claws. what did this human have, without having asato on the back foot from step one?

even if cain had been genuine, there's no chance in hell. cats of kira do not run. they do not beg. they do not say sorry.

his bloodied lips peel back again from his teeth. ) I will kill you. ( the timbre voice is low, yet oddly soft, given his size and former growling and snarling. but there is something cold and inert and dead in it that lends to the severity and veracity of the threat. he is not joking.

but he waits. one second, two, three. he waits until five. he gives him one last chance. he would not have done this before, but konoe had planted a seed of doubt in him — one which almost made him second-guess all of the trespassers he had left torn and still at kira's territory borders.

this half-measure of mercy was for konoe alone. not this person. for him, he would have no further doubt. )

[ the threat is honestly laughable, and for a second, cain lets it filter through him that way. he throws his head back, chuckling until it aches down to his lower back where his body reminds him of the bruising that's probably taking place from asato's knee, and then, a little more composed, he gazes at him to take in his posture. the flat ears are probably the biggest tell, wanting to press a little harder to see if he'll follow through with such a threat and where it might take them. down a dark road, probably, and in those seconds asato waits, cain makes a decision. it's not a bright decision, but it's also not the worst one either; after all, he could just cross the distance between them and punch him again, see what that does.

but if he waits any longer, he might forfeit on account of how badly his arm's been cut up. ]

I've got better things to do. [ the sharp turn of his smile is punctuated by the briefest glint of canine. ] Some other time.

[ which would have been then if he thought he could kick asato across the city and not have to deal with consequences. as it is, he gives just a little and takes a step back. then another and another. that much space between them, and cain slowly turns away from him, body pulled in a way that if he was attacked from behind, he could still defend himself. but it's easier to push through the crowd and work on disappearing, on trying to blend into this stupid place so he can get some of this frustration out in a different way. maybe he should have provoked the little cat until one of them had gotten beaten to death or unconscious—whichever had happened to come first. maybe he should have finished it.

but while reckless, cain isn't that stupid. he knows his limits, and it takes much too long to find someone to patch him up and even longer to sort things out. by then, it's at least another few days before he's wandering through the city again. the place is huge, which is both good and bad. good: he could stay lost and not have anyone looking for him if they decided to show up. bad: it was crowded and annoying and reminded him of all the stories he'd heard about earth. still, it's apparently not that big because he's close to level three when he spots a familiar silhouette ahead of him. again, not stupid, but the urge to get close is almost as strong as it had been the first time he'd walked by and pulled asato's tail.

he doesn't do that now, not since he's had a chance to cool off. instead, if he can get close enough, it's so he can reach out and run his fingers along the length of it – a soft, easy motion without any grip – just to get his attention. ]

( asato does not like being laughed at.

especially not when he is dead serious. his head drops a bit, his shoulders rounding; he considers lunging forward to just go ahead and do it, get the upper-hand that had been wrest from him so he could sink his claws into him, find his throat with his teeth. but — he doesn't. he keeps his thoughts on his breathing, deep blue eyes keen for any hint of movement beyond the derision. he watches his enemy stand on the precipice of a decision for a long moment, and he watches him make it. he watches him, still motionless and unblinking, as he makes the concerted effort to retreat as soundly as he can. he doesn't have to worry about asato ambushing him. he is not above it, but he did not act in deceit here. he had offered him the time to leave, and so he did.

once he has disappeared into the crowd, asato waits another minute or so. then he stands, and waits another. and then he finally disappears, first into the crowd and then from the streets entirely, scaling up a low wall and then onto the rooftops so he couldn't be attacked a second time.

the next few days pass as a blur. everything about this place and its people and its features and its buildings and its way of life is new to him; he is, after all, a cat from a tiny, secretive village in the middle of nowhere. it is, in a single word, overwhelming. he's had many conversations and interactions with people, and he's slowly understanding more and more about how this place works. but, at the end of the day, he is a simple-minded cat and just can't wrap his head around some of the larger concepts. the rest of it, he figures he will just have to learn as he goes.

and that's what he's doing today: wandering about the city, hoping that it will continue to make more and more sense through what was essentially cultural osmosis. it is asato's preferred route of transportation to cross along rooftops, but some of the architectural landscape here was too tall or too precarious for him to do so. that's why he's down on the streets in this particular area, feeling odd and slightly afraid in the crowds, though the added number of cat-like people (thanks to the blessing of the cordis moon) helps assuage his worries slightly.

all of those worries rush back to possess him, however, when he feels a touch to his tail. it is not... entirely uncommon, here — a lot of people ask to touch his tail or his ears, and some don't even ask at all. still, he turns sharply to see who it was — and then he comes to a complete halt. his eyes immediately fixate with anger and fear, the pupils narrowing to slits. what makes him angriest is perhaps the fact that this is probably some joke; that the touch of someone stroking his tail is actually very nice, usually, but here he imagines it to be just some sort of posturing. that he just knows his weakness and could exploit it so easily, if he chose to.

were they not a set fixture in a flowing river of people, he might have slashed at his face right then and there. but he doesn't, even though he does whip his tail away from him and curl it tightly around his own leg (as "safe" and "out-of-the-way" as he can manage).

he hadn't thought the "some other time" would be literal. this place was so huge, so full of people — more people than asato had seen in his entire life, multiplied by hundreds. how had he found him? )

Do not touch me. ( there is a thrum of danger beneath the soft timbre of his words, which are very nearly swallowed up in the noise of the street. ) I do not lie. I will kill you.

[ surprising or not, cain had given some thought to asato and the fight. mostly to figure out better ways to pin someone like him without getting the shit kicked out of him in the process, but semantics. still, he hadn't forgotten, and while he'd never really expected to run into him again, at least this soon, cain isn't so much in the mood to provoke as he is to push a little. he's not as angry as he had been when he'd arrived on the transport, and he's not angry now, even if he's still carrying the evidence of what asato had done to him on a partially bandaged arm. (someone had offered to heal him entirely, but he wanted the reminder, wanted to know that all of this had been real and not some delusion in his head; even then, it could very well be that and nothing else.)

the words, though – they amuse him just enough that his expression shifts into something easier. not quite amicable because being friendly here wouldn't do him any good right now, but there's no malice in the way cain looks at asato. not yet, not unless he decides to retaliate and take another chunk out of him. ]

I haven't done anything to you this time, koshechka. [ he nearly purrs the word, stepping in just close enough that asato taking a swing at him would be awkward and hit some of the other people flowing around them. ] Did you miss me?

[ he purposely targets the question in a way to rile him, knowing very well that asato probably didn't. not that it mattered to him, one way or another. and to make it worse, cain completely ignores the command – he really doesn't like being told what to do – to press forward, fingers easing between them to fondle the hem of asato's shirt until he can get a decent grip on it. looking at him now, nearly eye-to-eye, all cain does is stare back and watch, silently daring him to do something about it. ]

( this... doesn’t make any sense to asato. his world is in black and white, so there are only three types of people in this world: people to keep close to, people to generally avoid, and enemies he should kill. such a strict mentality was perhaps built up as a defense mechanism, something which would allow him to do what he was asked by the elder of kira without any lingering doubts or guilt. but it did not allow for much gray area. he hadn't been challenged so much in this, except perhaps by konoe, who he had been sent to kill before the strength seen in his eyes had stayed him. but certainly konoe is an exception to almost anything, everything. otherwise, asato expects his view to remain true, allowing him to trust his initial gut instinct and never budge from it.

if all this were true, this stranger would be trying to attack him again right now. but he isn't. or, at least, not in the same, aggressive way. it's not as though he doesn't pick up on any maliciousness, but it's cast in a playful way, hiding behind smiling masks and leading words. his tone causes asato to bristle. he is no wild animal; he does not necessarily attack without provocation, and if cain had tried to do what he had done the first time they met, he would have had basically no choice but to try and kill him.

but with him so close now, his motivation and intent obfuscated... it just makes asato anxious. )

Not yet. ( he does not trust him. he angles slightly away from him, instinctually wanting to reduce himself as a target. he does not deign give the question a verbal answer; there is just the twitching of his lips into a half-snarl, the confusion in his blue eyes crystallizing for just one moment into the slightly more familiar loathing.

he continues forward, closer, and asato would have wanted to step back to continue to maintain distance. but to do so would have him backing into someone walking around them. he isn't sure what he expects. nothing good. and reaching out to get a hold of the hem of his vest doesn't seem good. asato tries once again to back away, this time having the room but (assumedly) not the permission. his jaw sets; he reaches out to lock a hand over cain's wrist. his grip is tight -- the cat is strong -- and he tries to wordlessly wrench his grasp of his shirt free. )

[ just a few words, and that alone has cain chuckling in response.

it's such a juvenile answer, though he shouldn't have expected anything else considering the way they'd first met. cain doesn't even know his name, though koshechka is acceptable enough to him that he doesn't bother pressing for one and instead lets asato have that grip on his wrist. his arm gives, but there's still so little space between them that cain can push forward and curl his other around asato's neck, fingers digging deep into that dark hair and gently pulling. it's still not as hard as it had been when he'd had him on the ground days ago, but there's a firmness to it that he wants asato to feel, his gaze settling on the other's face with a lot less amusement. he doesn't know what it is about this cat that has him wanting to crush him; he just does. ]

Not yet, [ he mimics, the words soft as he leans close. his breath fans across his mouth. ] I said I'd fuck you, remember?

[ truthfully, if anything, it's said to pull a reaction out of him, to see what he'd do. would he get embarrassed and recoil back? try to break his hand? either way, it would be asato instigating this time, not him, and cain, then, would have more right to retaliate than before. not that anything else would stop him from fighting asato here in the middle of this crowd, but if he doesn't keep cool, he might end up somewhere worse than being able to wander around of his own accord. he's spent enough time in enclosed spaces. so, the challenge is in the tilt of his head, the curve of his mouth. his fingers loosen just a fraction in asato's hair, working up so he can brush his thumb along an ear to feel the difference.

it's soft, just like he imagined a cat's would feel like, and other than that, he doesn't do anything else to shove at him. gentle seems to garner a better response out of him anyway, though he's certain it won't last long considering how much the other must hate him. ]

( really, juvenile answers are the only ones asato is equipped to make. he is not good with words. complex questions requiring thought-out answers often elicit a pause from him, just so he can try to find the right ones. his life had required very few words from him, or, at least, until about roughly a week ago. he struggles to adjust, to change. it is hard to overwrite twenty years of requisite isolation. it leaves him ill-equipped for a place like this, and for people like cain.

he wrests his grip from his clothing, but each move is followed summarily by another, like an incredibly stupid game of chess. alarm rings once more in his animal brain; he is so close, practically pressed up against him, and the fingers knotting into his hair is familiar in a way that makes his stomach twist (even if he doesn't pull so hard as he had last time). asato does not yield to it; he doesn't want to bare his throat to cain in any way, even if it causes a dull ache at the back of his skull. it is a bizarre feeling, to feel trapped in the middle of so many people. he hates he has felt it twice, in so many days.

the words make his expression go dark; iron is injected into his spine to make him stand slightly straighter, a wave of tension passing tangibly through his body. now he feels he is the one pushed to a precipice of decision. this is not a place asato likes to be. he is not a cat who thinks through things like this. he follows his instincts, and they rarely lead him astray. but he has no instincts for this man nor the confusion he brings. he is temporarily jostled from his locked indecision by the hand tangled up in his hair slackening its grasp, moving so he could sweep his thumb across the curve of asato's ear. something twitches across his face; something he hates. it feels the same as when he had stroked his tail to gain his attention: deceitful. touching or grooming another ribika's ears is a sign of closeness, intimacy. it works up in his throat like bile.

somewhere, he knows he is being goaded. not consciously, really, but somewhere in the back of his mind. asato is not the brightest cat, but he is oddly perceptive.

he releases cain's wrist, the same hand rising to grab at the front of his clothing, balling into a fist in front of his chest. he holds him there for a moment before his lips part past sharp, feline teeth. he hisses, ) You attack me. You mock me. What, ( and he punctuates this with something that is half a shake and half a shove, ) do you want?

( he does not like the mind games. they only make him feel stupid. if it is as simple as picking yet another fight, asato will oblige him -- and the bandages adorning his arm are testament enough that he's good for it. and if he had been telling the truth, if he really was trying to make good on his threat (promise?) to fuck him? well, he's welcome to try. but asato of kira does not just lay down for anyone. )

[ it's probably the most he's heard him speak since they'd met. unofficially, of course, but cain isn't thinking in those terms. before he'd gotten involved with abel, how many people had there been who he'd fucked and left, fought and walked away from without ever having a proper introduction? too many to count, and asato is just the same. though if they're going to be stuck here together for a while...

an idle thought, and when asato shakes him, he drops his fingers from his ear to his hair once more, tightening so that he has a decent hold. if asato pushes him away, he's going to tear it out, and then, they'll be back to where they had been the moment they'd met, dancing around each other and rolling along the ground in a tangle of limbs. but he doesn't think this koshechka is stupid enough to do that, not when he's bristling at the mere thought of cain possibly doing something to him. he could use that to his advantage, now that he thinks about it, and it's the mere idea of it that crosses his mind as he meets asato's gaze with his own. cain's eyes are dark, even darker than usual with the amusement that flits beneath his skin; he exhales softly before moving.

free hand pressing hard against the one tangled in his shirt, he leans forward and takes a kiss. it's sharp and hard, fingers flexing in asato's hair as he angles his head to bite at his mouth. he doesn't do it hard enough to draw blood, not yet, but it does prove to show how serious he is about what he'd said before. it might not be to death, but he'd make it good enough to feel like that, just standing on the precipice of something more. his tongue flicks against asato's lips, not foolish enough to kiss him deeper and risk getting it bitten off. instead, he just teases him, a step forward leaving less space between them and the grip asato has on his shirt a little too awkward for more than a weak shove—if he wanted to get free. ]

I told you what I want. [ and his eyes narrow then, the tip of his tongue pressing against the sharp tip of his own teeth. cain glances at his bandaged arm and then back to asato. ] You owe me.

( he is a cat of few words, and by design — even this many, as plainly laid-out as they had been, makes him feel apprehensive. typically he fears being misunderstood, being ridiculed, or being the recipient of anger should he have said the wrong thing. here, he is not so worried about these things (well, except maybe the ridicule, but that would probably happen regardless of whether he said anything or not). he just feels as though if he continues to remain silent, the problem will neither go away, resolve itself, or crystallize into any form of understanding.

he gets the sense of what the fingers tangling in his hair again mean. he is cautious, then, keeping him held where he is, trying to maintain whatever tiny bit of control he can in the situation. it's a tiny sliver of control that he almost immediately loses. cain's unoccupied hand locks onto his own, reversing the gesture, and before his brain can even catch up to try to figure out what to do, how he might escape, he's leaned forward to force their lips together. in a certain way, it feels more like a punch in the mouth than anything else — asato bristles further, a low and confused sound in his throat. he can't escape, not with the restraining hand at the back of his head, and certainly not with cain's teeth sinking into his lip hard enough to send a twinge of pain lancing through him, but not quite hard enough to break the skin. to this, asato doesn't really respond, not beyond a sharp intake of breath through his nose, a brief and vain struggle nowhere, and a rigidity to his form that would make a brick wall proud.

though something odd occurs to him at the sensation of cain's tongue against his lips, something echoing back to their first altercation. it causes asato's brows to knit together faintly, his attention oddly fixated on his mouth even after he had broken away to reestablish the scant amount of space between them. that's right — it had been slick, smooth. weird. the tongues of ribika are, like cats, rough. it's a strange thing to become so sharply aware of in a situation like this, but it nonetheless sticks in his mind like a thorn for a few seconds before he looks back up to recapture cain's gaze, a little fazed but not necessarily embarrassed.

it doesn't necessarily bother him for the reasons one might assume. the comments a few days ago had angered him because they had been possessive, posturing, violent; it had been just another extension of a fight that asato, as always, assumed was life-and-death. but if he's serious... he just thinks it's bizarre. are humans just like this? such a thing had always seemed so much more cut-and-dry among ribika, but being beholden to cycles of heat probably forces a species to adjust in such a way. so, say asato is at least giving him the benefit of the doubt, which is probably visible enough in how the bare loathing in his eyes was slowly replaced with cautious calculation. what the fuck did that mean? he's just... never really been in this sort of situation. not for lack of wanting, but, well. no cat in kira would have made such an advance, nor suffer one from him. it leaves him in the uncomfortable place of having no frame of reference to fall back on.

but, in situations like these, asato does what any stupid young man would do: stop thinking, follow his instinct.

but first, to settle a misunderstanding: ) I owe you nothing. ( a slashed arm is payment for a pulled tail. just because the fool human didn't have any idea what that felt like didn't mean it didn't happen. he readjusts his grip on cain's shirt, pushing him forward but not necessarily away — he steps forward with it, and keeps marching him backwards, shouldering the two of them through the throng of people that had been passing around them and a short distance away into a far less-busy backstreet. he lets him go then, simply and without further roughing, wary of the hand still tangled in his hair.

he huffs a breath through his nose. ) Best me, then. But, ( he holds up one clawed finger, ) do not pull my tail. ( in return, he raises his hands; he retracts his claws, offering his own part of the bargain. if cain would overlook his innate weakness, asato would put aside his natural advantage.

he cants his head ever-so-slightly to one side, wary, waiting for an answer. )

[ if he hadn't been aware of what might come from the way asato first looks at him and then tries to maneuver them both somewhere else, cain would have dug his heels in and thrown his fist in his face. claws or not, teeth or not, he could have taken him if he'd really put the effort into it. a little pain is nothing in the wake of trying to prove something, though what that might be, in this particular situation, he honestly doesn't know. it's just a flicker of annoyance that rears up when he's guided backwards, elbowing someone passing by and giving a roll of his eyes as though to say he didn't care or had much choice in the matter. he did, he does. he could slip out of the weak grasp asato has on him and use the leverage of his hair as a point of pain to bring him down, but there's just enough intrigue in the way they move that cain says nothing.

he doesn't even do much, taking in the look on his face as he slowly slips his fingers free of that hair.

best him? it's a laughable thing, really, but this time, cain doesn't laugh, stepping back just an inch or two to give himself space in the narrow alleyway they've crossed into. he pulls himself out of his jacket, letting it drop at his feet, and then, he's back in asato's personal space, crowding closer and closer to nudge him so he's the one with his back to the wall of a nearby building. if he thinks he's going to fight him in such a narrow space, even with those conditions, he's more of an idiot than he first assumed. cain flattens his palm against asato's chest, sliding it up to rest just against the bottom curve of his throat and lets his thumb rest in that notch below his adam's apple. ]

I don't care about your tail. [ his fingers hook gently into the tender flesh below asato's chin and try to coax his head forward. ] Try to keep up, koshechka.

[ it's not exactly a warning, just something to fill the space that quickly closes between them as cain leans and kisses him again. the pressure still isn't biting, even less than the one seconds before, but this time, his tongue presses insistently to taste inside, his free hand distracting by slipping between them to curl into the waistline of asato's pants—a split decision to either tug them open or keep him there, he hasn't decided just yet. ]

( asato is not necessarily the smartest cat, but he can be remarkably perceptive. even having asked him directly, he still doesn't really know what this guy's deal is — he's left to try to puzzle out what he can. for nearly all of his life he had had to be a student of body language and what he could glean from the conversations of others; he is far more accustomed to doing this than contributing to conversation himself. what he sees in these few fleeting moments is the momentary aggravation on his face at being driven somewhere, and that makes it apparent. he tries to control everything, every moment, every movement, and when he can't, it strikes a nerve. asato is not wont to care for why, not unless curiosity gets the better of him, but he quietly keeps it in mind. it's not exactly his usual modus operandi, but you can only get pushed around so much before you want to do some pushing back yourself.

he breathes out a sigh of relief as the fingers detangle from his hair again, and his deep blue eyes keep track the motion of cain stepping back, the vertical line of the jacket dropping to the ground. they flick back up to him just as he's stepping back up into his personal space, eliciting asato back up on instinct. he's guided until he's backed up against the wall, something which causes his ears to flatten a degree. his eyes never move from cain's, watchful and measuring, even as the hand follows the line of his sternum to his neck. that, too, he doesn't really like, but he tries to calm the kneejerk reactions, taking each moment at a time.

he tries to manipulate his head head forward, so of course he wants to want to do the opposite, but — "try to keep up, koshechka." whatever hint of a growl which had started to rumble out of his throat is curtailed by the kiss. it definitely has a lot less impact than the last, but asato's response is still similar; he is at first locked up, tense, tentative in his decision to part his lips and open his mouth into the kiss less for impetuous contrarianism and more for momentary uncertainty. it is just like cain is: fast, aggressive, unpredictable. at first asato is a poor match, his own experience in this arena perilously limited. but he is not so beholden to the shackles of self-consciousness as others might be, so he recovers, rebounds, making to match his tempo. the few times sharp incisors and canines come dangerously close to nipping at lips or tongue are perfectly accidental — or perhaps just barely-reined in instinct — something that doesn't extend to the hand that raises to meet the junction of his neck and shoulder, fingertips and then claws beginning to dig lightly in in a feline instinct of grabbing hold of something in the heat of a moment.

the hand at his waist is something easily set aside mentally at first, with all else happening, but as the fingers curl further past the waistline, he takes more notice. it is little more than a lapse in cadence in the kiss, a fleeting, still moment of questioning.

one that asato follows up by very non-accidentally biting cain's bottom lip. not so much that he wanted to draw blood, mind, but ribika teeth are sharp. )

[ the way he kisses reminds him of someone not quite used to the contact, almost scared. if cain had wanted to point it out specifically, he would have drawn back, but there's also something interesting about the part of his lips and the touch of his tongue. he'd felt it before, the roughness of it; there just hadn't been any room to consider it as much as he is now. his fingers work, loosening the fastening of asato's pants, and he's only cut short from it when that bite elicits a deep inhale, breaking contact to look at him. there's nothing hard about it, only taking him in as he strokes his tongue over the pained edge of his lip.

any harder, and he would have drawn blood. he bares his teeth a little, taking it as permission to be rough.

after all, asato had said to best him, and if it's not a fight he's going to give him, it might as well be something else he's good at. so, he kisses him once—hard, relentless, a scrape of teeth. and then, cain makes the decision to risk making himself vulnerable by nipping at asato's chin and then sliding down to his knees in front of him. he braces his forearm against his abdomen, eyes up to watch him before he narrows his focus on his unspoken task. cain gives asato's shirt a tug, pushing it up and bunching it in his occupied hand so his other can finish what he'd started with his pants and tug them open. in retrospect, he doesn't actually know what to expect doing this, but it isn't going to stop him, smearing a hot kiss across asato's navel and lightly dragging his teeth over his lower belly as he shifts himself forward on his knees. dangerous, he realizes, when his hand dips inside his clothes to search for what he really wants, and he smirks up at asato. ]

Don't kick me, [ he warns, aware of the potential of getting caught but caring little for that. there wouldn't be any reprimand here, no punishment for fraternizing with other citizens. it's not like being in space, when they're not even supposed to think about things like this – not that it ever stopped him – and more than that, he wants to put asato in his place, give him a taste of something and watch him eventually crawl back to him for more. ] And if you pull my hair –

[ he punctuates that with a sharp squeeze around the flesh between his legs that his fingers have finally found. ]

( he would be right in that intuition, but all of his apprehension is in the precarious novelty of it — asato had never elected for isolation personally, though he had acknowledged it the safest route, and he had often yearned for closeness of any type. but still. it was difficult to try to unravel the shape your mind forced itself into after so much time. earnest and guileless in a particular, asato even does this better than others might. at first he expects cain to say something, not neglecting any ammunition which could be used to rankle him, but he doesn't. a small thing, but it helps assuage what is frayed in asato's nerve; he persists, and he follows whatever thread of instinct he can find here.

it's that impulsiveness which had caused his teeth to find cain's lip, trapped for just a moment between keen canines before he lets him go. that sharp intake of breath was all asato needed for a precedent — it had been fun to make him react, even in a small way, and the thought shimmers like static electricity trapped beneath his skin. cain breaks away, and asato meets his dark gaze with unyielding deep blue, lightly surprised that there is nothing obviously angry in it. just... considering? resolving.

when he kisses him again, he's ready for it. it's nearly bruising, more impact and force and teeth than anything else for a brief moment, and then it's moved on. asato opens his eyes as he feels the nip at his jawline, and they follow him as he gets on his knees in front of him. to asato's scant credit, he only looks bewildered for a second — less at the context and more at cain's decision to do so — and then it fades, replaced as his stomach knots in simultaneous apprehension and anticipation, so thoroughly interlocked it was hard to distinguish one from another. in truth, there is a shared vulnerability here, and one he is distinctly aware of. that understanding, still tinged with wariness, is apparent as he return's cain's gaze. he is quiet as the hem of his shirt is raised up to bare his stomach and the front of his pants undone, or, at least, until the heat of lips and tongue jolts a start from him, a short jerk from one end of the spine to the other, resolving in a ragged exhale of breath through clenched teeth as cain's press a line into his stomach on their path down. disappointingly or relievingly (however one might decide to feel about it), cain would find ribika are not so different from humans as the hand not balled in his shirt slips below his waistline. he is almost lightly embarrassed how what relatively little has led up to this has affected him — almost.

he is tense again, realizing that this would be the point to tell him to stop — or force him to, doing exactly as he said not to before escaping up and onto a rooftop, for good. cain still gives him a nagging bad feeling — it rings as a small, annoying, incessant bell in the back of his mind as he smirks back up to him. but asato doesn't listen to it. he doesn't want to stop, either due to innate want, the press of biological need, or a celestially-borrowed influence. maybe all of the above, and maybe none. doesn't matter.

a small, short breath leaves him, cut at the edges in a way that makes it sound like a laugh, but only if you squint. he doesn't make that first promise. he doesn't not make it either, but like so many other things, it's conditional. sure, he won't kick him — as long as he doesn't do anything deserving getting kicked.

whatever he was going to say in response was cut off by the fingers squeezing tight — tight, sudden — around him; the words are swallowed into a half-exclamation, half-choke. his breathing is sudden then too, taking some time to settle. "reactive," is a word for it. like an exposed nerve, accustomed to little and now opened up to everything. but asato doesn't let that stop him — he's made his choice in this. his fingers thread into cain's hair. asato's palms are rough, but he doesn't grab at cain in the same way that he'd been treated earlier. the touch is tentative in a way, exploratory, fingers brushing past the odd shell of his ear. ) "I don't care about your hair," ( and the words form a very loose impression of cain's, just moments before. perhaps mocking him, even lightly, was not the best course of action at this juncture, and yet — he does it anyway, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile.

already rubbing off on him; a bad influence. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

▶ TDM .009

arrival

no subject

2 many words... my bad

it's all good i'm sorry for him

dont be... i know what i'm about, son

this is rude af

havin a good time havin a good time

no subject

no subject

hover for translation :')

(':

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no subject

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no subject

no subject

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