(Closed) Mareuer Catch All

[mirshikar]

Who: Asura + Plotted CR
When: Mareuer
Where: Aefenglom, Dorchacht, and the respective Wildes of both cities.
What: SOL, Quests, Asura's birthday, and treehouse construction. Also, I'm always down for building new CR, so if you'd like a thread starter, feel free to hmu @ the March CR & plotting post!
Warnings: Will be updated as necessary.

Comments

[gehennawind]

[ Everything goes pear-shaped. Down they fall, his weight and her flailing limbs rattling the floorboards as if part of a greater battle between two titans. Paloma's shriek trails off into laughter, fades into giggles, and she doesn't hurry when rolling onto her belly, grinning so widely that it might've strained her face, once. (When her muscles still felt that discomfort longer than a minute or less, when aches hit harder and simpler than dictated by blood intake.)

She visibly falters in the middle of preparing to launch at him, devastated in fewer than five seconds. It just took Asura looking at her that way and talking, again, of love. Her throat locks. ]

No, that's not fair. You can't say that.

[ The sweet, terrible joy swamping their connection says otherwise, but Paloma had plans to exact vengeance and they cannot bear fruit when she wants to kiss him insensate.

Happier than anyone's got a right to be, she kicks off the floor and drops recklessly onto him, snarling a war cry. ]

[mirshikar]

[ A menace! Paloma is a menace, one that sees Asura imperiled by simply being. Though she is Kindred, her emotions are more vivacious, more resonant and alive than any human Asura's ever siphoned Glamour from, and the crest of her joy hits the King just as hard as the sheer force behind her bodyslam. At this rate, their storied battle will wake the neighbors, giving them something to gossip about, but— in this moment, all Asura knows is reflexive happiness, and it's better than any other high he's known.

There's no need to worry about injury between them (they've sparred harder than this, knocked each other around more), but instead of spurring his body into a quick economy of motion (to see Paloma upended again, and to keep that rhythm of theirs going) Asura only...! Draws a slow, steady breath. Exhales. Huffs: ] Can't I?

[ She's a mess of color, and now he is too. Transferred to him, by way of their physicality: the colors of lovers and partners and the sentiment of I will grapple with you for the sheer hell of it, but also as foreplay too.

The look in Asura's eyes is arresting, then, as his lashes fall to half-mast, his molten heart thundering away in his furnace of a chest— ]

Don't tell me that I need to throw us into the thick of another life or death situation if I ever want to say those words again. [ Arching his pelvis up sharply, he jostles her on top of him, his hands roving over her person with large, calloused, warm palms which glide over the backs of her legs and thighs, pushing up the frilled fabric of her skirt. ] Much as I live for danger, think that'll get tiresome real quick, and I'd much rather spend time like this instead.

[ Where Paloma is elated, beautiful, and fierce atop him. Where Asura himself can't stop grinning like a fool because he's all caught up in vast scope of everything she is.

With a wink— ] You look good from this angle, you know?

[gehennawind]

[ The floor, their clothes, their bodies, their hair are all wretched with the colors of this festival. Or precious with it, depending on your point of view, and she likes the perspective from her cushy throne. She likes when that throne rolls up into her even more.

From contrived outrage to dizzied interest, there's a quicksilver shift of expression and physicality. Answering that audacious wink is a bafflingly shy smile showing only the most delicate points of either fang; under the guise of resettling onto him, Paloma presses down more roughly than is strictly called for. Carelessness encourages the powdered skirt higher because naturally it would. ]

Don't imagine you can sidetrack me by flattering my angles.

[ The rasp of her voice, more pronounced but always with deepest affection, precedes a pair of inquisitive palms smoothing up Asura's wide neck, cradling and then scratching him unkindly. ]

I love you— I love you. You're in my heart, you'll always be. [ Joy wars with awareness of how fragile, how tenuous trying to lock someone to oneself is. Fear tries to sour the whole barrel until the mad strength of love and lust shoves it somewhere else. ]

If it could beat again, loving you might do the trick.

[ Here, his hands are ocupado. She leaves his neck alone to help by reaching behind herself for the ties to her dress. ]

[mirshikar]

[ Teamwork is Asura helping Paloma out of her dress posthaste: where the fingers that had soothed and scraped along the column of his throat (unblemished palms discovering scar tissue in their bout of curiosity, finding that place where the King of Summer—proclaimed enemy to all Kindred—had opened the skin of his neck for one) have set their sights upon fastenings and ties, Asura's hands raise higher still, pushing up, up, up until he's able to see the waist of the dress over Paloma's head, and...!

He creates a new rain of pigment in the process, the powder loosened from fabric, skin, and hair with the fluidity of the motion. Plumes of color fall, hues shift and blend, and it turns out that teamwork is also one surefire way to mask the reddened cast of fluster which sweeps across Asura's features when Paloma reciprocates, says the words "I love you" not once, but twice, in that breezy vibrato of hers. And it's strange, isn't it, how Asura's own molten heart surely skipped a beat, delight and surprise evident in the widening of his eyes, in the moment she'd decreed (from atop her throne of his body, flesh, and crystalline bones) that her love for him just might be the thing to help her feel alive again.

Here, in the peace of Asura's shared home, those avowals—spoken only once before in that vile pit of stone—resound with a clarity which moves him like nothing else. This is where he's meant to be, even if he's realms away from his Freehold and Court, and the sentiment which burgeons within him can be no product of a restraint or lock: strong enough to cast wrath into shadow, it feels dangerously like freedom from the constraints of the mortal realm which Asura had stepped into nearly a half-century ago. ]

Call me selfish, Palomabella, but I want to be with you in any way that I can. [ Above him, she is beautiful, but— with his taloned hands now settled on either side of her waist, he lowers her to the floor below, sees her laid atop the cushion of her discarded dress before his fingers find the delicate curve of her jaw, cradling her face. ]

Whether or not I reside in a heart that beats or one that is still... [ Though now, now he wonders what it would take to return a Kindred to mortality— what the sacrifice would be to forge a contract with Life and Death both. If only she wanted, truly wanted, he would consign himself away for her. ] ...or if this Bond of ours should someday fade...

[ Thumb sweeping over the rise of her cheek, he swipes away residual traces of powdered yellow as his body bends, the incline touching forehead to forehead as he promises— ]

...I'll pursue you all the same. [ One kiss, pressed to the bridge of her nose. Teasing. ] Avidly. [ Another, placed against the cupid's bow, nose nuzzling nose. Surprising, how gentle Asura could be, for all that they had battled against one another not so very long ago. ] Brazenly. [ A third, to the veeeeery corner of the mouth. ] Wantonly.

[ And finally, f i n a l l y a kiss that's a mesh of lips against lips, closed-mouthed and steeped well with desire that's been brewing since the very moment when Paloma had bulldozed him into a wall in the first place. ]

[gehennawind]

[ Cheating is hearing it when his heart skips, smiling secretively and with pleasure at the proof that this perfect feeling isn't unrequited. Turnabout is soft fabric under her back, motes of bright powder getting absolutely everywhere with no rush for either of them to clean up. She keeps chasing him, clawing off his hairtie, trying to dole out the kind of affection he teases at giving. The promises/threats trip her up, make her inelegant.

Paloma half-lunges to meet the kiss and scorch it back into him. Funny; she hadn't bothered to put her underthings back on after they said hello earlier, in this same treehouse. Though coaxing the necessities off of Asura's lovely body, swearing love again and again and again, suits her fine.

She's pretty happy with herself, afterward, and not hurrying to get that soiled dress back on. What if she just... wears him? Like a stole. There's a thought. (Not many of those, currently. Sex makes her airheaded.) Most folks would want a big man off of them after the excitement is over, but she's neither most folks nor concerned about getting crushed by however many tons of solid muscle. Paloma curls her legs and arms around him like a snake looking for bugs to eat. ]

Mmmmmyou gotta start every balloon over again. How many'd we make before you popped mine...