CLOSED • I'll be your enigma

[trulygifted]

Who: Nico (trulygifted) and Sephiroth (supersoldier)
When: Early Noveuer
Where: The Wilde
What: A Prurient Petals mishap
Warnings: TBA

( For all Nico enjoys teasing Sephiroth about his behaviour when she'd caught him under the full moons, he hadn't actually been wrong about how foolish it was for a fledgling witch to step into the Wilde alone. In may ways she's lucky she hadn't run into worse than him: he'd toyed with her, yes, and there had been a few moments where she'd felt the pound of her heart up in her throat, but Nico knows that Sephiroth hadn't truly planned on making a meal of her. If he had, she suspects he'd have been far more efficient about it than encouraging her to run.

She's taken his advice on board for her second venture beyond the city walls. Asking him to accompany her had come with the promise of freeing him from any future "remember the time when you chased me through the woods" favours; it ends here, today, with Sephiroth as her personal Harpy bodyguard to protect her from whatever might be lurking in the undergrowth. The Coven have been clear about the seasonal increase in the hostility of the local fauna, and honestly? Nico would really rather not end up dead because she pissed off a randy stag. )

Y'know, I'm definitely a city girl, but there's nothin' quite like gettin' out into nature.

( It's a good day for flower-hunting. Nico takes a deep breath of the fragrant air as they make their way through the woods — it's a little sweet, and a little warm from the insulation provided by the trees, and the rich scent of moss, bark, and soil is altogether pleasant. There's also the barest hint of a floral aroma that tingles down the length of her spine with every waft, and that is what she's looking to get her hands on before the plants are fully eradicated. )

Hey, look—!

( And speaking of: there in front of them, just up ahead, Nico has caught sight of a few of those long, sprawling petals curling around the roots of a tree. When they reach the thick ribbons it becomes clear that they've found a full infestation of the things, and she gleefully sinks to her knees to begin unpacking her satchel of supplies. The translucent shimmer of pollen on the air — pollen they've been breathing in since they set foot in the woods — goes unnoticed, but for the small puff that rises from the centre of the flower as she eases it towards herself. )

Perfect. Now, be a sweetheart an' keep an eye out, would you?

Comments

[supersoldier]

[He isn’t here so that he can be free of the obligation to help. Though Sephiroth might act as though it hangs over his head like a sword about to drop after his treatment of Nico during the unfortunate full moons, the reality is far simpler: if asked to help, he will. If asked to offer protection with his skill and sword, he will do so tenfold. The notion of needing something to do—something to keep his hands busy, a mission with purpose—is not so easily discarded, even though his time in Aefenglom has run long. His obligation to Shinra, where this inclination had originally rooted itself in him, had run much longer.

But it’s an unspoken willingness, one that he believes Nico can puzzle out for herself. For now, he trails two steps behind her, under the pretense of this freeing him from her assortment of asked favors. It’s a simple enough request, one that he’s humored others with before — gathering flora out in the Wilde is something of an on-going need in the city, though the particulars are different every time. Masamune is held at the line of his back, though occasionally he releases it in a cut of silver to open a clearer path before them. This part of the Wilde is warm, earthy, and thick with overgrowth, scented with something sweet in the air that tingles warmly through his nerves, and he hopes that the trip is a quick one.

Of course, Nico presents far more enthusiasm than him, but that’s to be expected with just about anyone. At a distance, clustered around and hugging the roots of an old tree, large flower petals violently bloom, seeking the light of the sun. Following, he stops just short behind her as she sinks into a crouch to gather up her supplies needed to bring these specimens back. The toe of his boot brushes against the petals despite his careful step—there are too many to truly avoid—and glistening tufts of pollen fly from their centers, shimmering but unseen and unnoticed.

The air scents sweeter, the temperature feels warmer, but that’s about the extent of anything visible going awry. Sephiroth turns to cast his look out towards the thicket of trees and all the plant-life around him, listening for movement. Thus far, no randy stags to be leery of.]

What do you need these for?

[He had glanced over the mission posting, had briefly even read about the nature of these plants; but what Nico needs them for specifically—a love potion, maybe? what a concept.—is still a wonder.]

[trulygifted]

( Nico already has a scalpel poised against the base of one of the petals when the smooth roll of Sephiroth's voice disturbs the quiet. He's a man of few words at the best of times but she's feeling a sudden appreciation for his tone: it's deep and certain, the voice of someone who rarely wastes his breath on filler, and it stirs and uncertain (but not unwelcome) heat low in her belly as she glances back up at him. )

Potions, mostly, but I hear they fetch a decent price back in the city as well.

( Her grin shows a flash of teeth, mischievous as always even as she turns back to her work. The flower itself is surprisingly sturdy — robust in a way she hadn't expected, for all she'd been warned — but the languid curl of the petal separates from the main body of the plant easily enough. She takes her time with rolling the fleshy thing up before inserting it into a waiting jar; )

I know a guy who can make pretty decent aphrodisiac potions, an' it got me thinkin' I might as well give it a go myself. He's chargin' me through the ass for somethin' I could technically make myself.

( Nico glances back over her shoulder to toss Sephiroth a playful wink. )

... For the shop, you gotta realise. Don't get me wrong, you're a catch, but I'm not gonna put any spells on you any time soon.

( The air around them feels some how closer as she settles back into her work again, heat pressing in and causing moisture to gather at the nape of her neck. Nico tries to work quickly, her blade flashing through the flower to liberate it of its petals one by one, but all it takes is a little too much pressure against a deceptively thick petal for catastrophe to strike. )

Ah! Shit—

( "Catastrophe". Nico drops the tool as though it burned her and lifts her finger to her mouth, her lips closing over the cut to suck away the blood beading along the incision. )

[supersoldier]

[He's already affixed his eyes to their surroundings, taking up post as any good SOLDIER from Gaia should. And a task like his one should come naturally, of course, just as easy as breathing, remaining stoic and stalwart and ready to take on any threat that may come careening their way.

But as he listens to her speak, he finds that he is distracted — the warmth of this place, the sound of her voice speaking on the idea of aphrodisiacs, the very concept whirring in his mind before he pushes it aside. But then he’s only left with a strange, poignant awareness of her presence in its wake, and Sephiroth cannot help but glance down at her, noting the sheen of her skin gone damp with perspiration, accenting the curve of her neck.

Nico chooses that moment to flash him a wink. And Sephiroth does what he thinks is reasonable, parsing the situation as only he can.]

…

[He doesn’t reply, merely looks away and mentally waves aside the notion of conversation for the sake of focus.

Not that she needs his commentary. He can hear her working at the base of those plants, or their unfurled petals, and it seems as though it’s business as usual. Until she curses aloud, dropping her tool, and Sephiroth has no choice but to lob a mild concern her way.]

What is it?

[She brings a finger to her lips, denoting injury, a gesture that he follows keenly with his eyes as though drawn to it. But it’s a sincere kind of concern that has him crouching down in the next moment, Masamune’s blade placed flat across the ground aside him, one expectant hand reaching out. The length of his great, black wings invade the leaves and blossoms of the plantlife, now so close to the earth.]

You should be more careful. Let me see it.

[trulygifted]

( It shouldn't be any different to the afternoon they spent together in the greenhouse. Sephiroth had crouched close then, too, showing her how to press her fingers into the soil to make a warm, damp space for the bulbs, and she hadn't thought anything of their proximity as they'd worked their way along the row. When he dips to her level this time she can smell the warmth of him — leather, skin, and something she can't place — and a jolt of appreciation plummets through her core to throb between her legs.

... Fuck.

Nico lifts her finger to show him the cut. It isn't particularly deep, nor is it bleeding fast enough to be a real problem for her, but fresh red beads well up along the thin line of it as blood flows into the wound again. )

Pfft, it's not a big deal.

( She attempts a light scoff as she finally places her hand on his palm. Even through the leather wrap of his gloves, the sensation shifts something deep within her until it slides into place, and a soft breath sticks in the back of her throat as dark eyes flit up to meet his. They're rimmed with green today — less honey, more forest — which contrasts the sudden flush of pink across her cheeks, which isn't embarrassment so much as a dusting of unexpected heat.

She's always considered Sephiroth a beautiful man, but that casual appreciation is slowly melting into an irresistible pulse of desire. )

What's your prognosis? You think I'm gonna lose the whole hand, or just the finger?

( Normally, she might try to stop it. Normally Nico eases up on any teasing flirtations before it can become too serious, but this time she can't help the mischievous curl to her lips as she tosses him a sparkling look from beneath thick lashes. )

Break it to me gentle, now.

[supersoldier]

[The dark leather of his glove may as well be missing for how aware he is of her skin’s heat, the shape of her hand against his own. It’s distracting, and normally, Sephiroth rejects all distractions, for nothing ever good came from them in the middle of what he had hoped to treat as a mission. But “normally” doesn’t seem to apply to either of them in this moment, not when inhibition is slowly receding like a low tide, courtesy of the sweet scent of pollen kicked up in the air and the pang of want hooking neatly into his abdomen. The air is thick with it, but it hardly registers in his awareness; his focus is narrowing, steadily, as though it searches a fixed point — Nico, crouched right in front of him, so very close.

His eyes meet hers, a look that says far more than the words falling from the curve of her lips, and steel of his will bends, acquiesces to a simmering temptation he so very rarely gives into. The fan of his lashes lower, dark and long but not enough to obscure the green glow bolstered by the mako alive in his veins.]

I think with enough care, you’ll lose neither.

[His voice is easy, low and smooth and inflected a bit like that night of the full moons, only without the delirious rush of a chase. There’s a silkiness to each syllable, instead; the sort languid timbre that implies this is a different degree of heat—burgeoning, testing—even if the desire is cut from the same sort of cloth.

Gently, he grasps her palm with his fingers, lifting her hand up to the already half-parted shape of his mouth. And slowly, he takes her finger against his tongue, tasting that small tang of copper, closing his lips around the wound which is barely a wound at all — taking just a taste, as she had just moments before.]

[trulygifted]

( That heat seems to blossom around them as Sephiroth lifts her hand to his lips, saturating the air with warmth and that heady, floral scent that swirls through each breath. Nico exhales softly as she watches his lips part for her finger as though in a daze, that gentle stroke of his tongue somehow erotic enough to catch her breath in the back of her throat. She feels the caress of it low in her stomach, then again in the dampness between her legs, and her own lips part at the thought of feeling the slick plush of his mouth elsewhere. )

Yeah?

( Not for the first time, Nico finds herself caught up in the overwhelming weight of Sephiroth's presence. The forest sprawls lush around them but she's unable to drag her eyes away from him — from the smooth line of his jaw, the tender hollow of his throat, the effortless grace of even the smallest movement. A hand lifts to skim through the fall of silver-spun hair spilling forwards to frame his face, coiling in the strands before moving back to sink further into heavy silk. )

Well then, I guess it's just as well you're here, huh?

( The thought takes root quickly, overshadowing what remains of the part of her that might otherwise urge caution. Sephiroth is ... different, to the other men she knows, and she values the friendship that is slowly unfurling between them, and yet there's nothing of that holding her back as her not-so-bloody fingers drift to his free hand. Slowly, she guides his palm to the neat curve of her waist, the space between them alive with promise as she shifts her knees ever so slightly further apart.

This time when she smiles there's invitation on her lips. )

... I don't think I'd want anyone else to take care of me.

[supersoldier]

[It only takes this slightest of movements to make the flora beneath them shiver and shudder, a carpet of them practically blanketing the roots of the tree which shades them above. Yet now, there’s no consideration for those blossoms — just as there’s no consideration for the reason that they’re here at all, or the long curve of steel that he’s set aside to be enveloped by the flowers fully, an image that’s nigh emblematic of both of their shifting priorities.

Priorities which are becoming more and more clear, given the way his heart thrums with a quiet thrill in his chest, the electrifying sensation of something as simple as the feel of her waistline curve beneath his touch. The look on her face, the slightest, incremental widening of the space between her legs; and his own heat pooling at his belly and snaking even lower, instigated by the look she gives him, reflecting his own tenfold.

It’s almost a shame to have to remove his lips from the slender line of her finger, were it not for the way he teases it gently with the tips of his teeth as he slackens his grip on her wrist. Instead, that hand brings his own fingers to his mouth, to catch his pointer between a line of those same teeth and pull at the dark leather. It slips off like a second skin, discarded to the ground like a dead animal.]

And how do you want me to do that? To take care of you.

[His other glove will need the same attention, too, but right now he would rather feel the shape of her body, even if it’s dulled by sword grip-worn leather. At her waist, his fingertips press a little harder into her skin, until they slide downwards to catch his thumb on the hem of her pants. He wonders if there’s heat gathering between her own legs, too. His wings seem to flare in anticipation.]

Tell me.

[trulygifted]

( Watching Sephiroth remove his glove shouldn't be erotic, but it is. Nico watches the way the slender-pale skin of his hand is revealed as dark leather slips away; imagines the way it might feel against her skin, the heat of his palm, each measured press of his fingertips. The hand at her waist curls a little tighter and she can't help but lean into him just a little, chasing sensation where she can get it as the tension winds tighter between them. )

You're a smart guy— ( She breathes, her gaze drifting to the plush bow of his lips. ) You're tellin' me you can't figure it out?

( But he isn't — not really. He's telling her he wants to hear it, the thought of which pulls a shiver down the length of Nico's spine and tingles through to her core. )

I want you to touch me.

( The hand in his hair loosens his grip to curl around his newly bared wrist, which she guides down to the space between her bare thighs. Her shirt is short — her clothes always are — but she doesn't press his palm up against her right away, choosing instead to let him find his own way to to the lace of her underwear by leaving his fingertips against her inner thigh. )

And then ... maybe more than that.