middaeg | October catch-all [closed]

[ When your entire life is nothing more than a never ending war, relaxation is an impossibility. It's rare he ever relaxes or lets himself be vulnerable because of that life. Letting his guard down is a good way to die. Berserker remains tense under Everett's touch. ]

It doesn't matter anymore because I was alive so long ago. The land is unrecognizable as I remember it.

[ Not that he's ever returned there, even when given the chance. It's an extremely sore spot for him because truly, he never existed. Not really a fun topic of discussion when it's a reminder of a painful reality. ]

This place is not unlike it, though...Maybe that's why I feel more at home here than I should.

Reincarnated with your memories? Is that how it works in your land? [Everett sounds... familiar enough with the concept. It's not an impossible thing, in Myddvai. Uncommon for humans, but not for some other breeds. The Giants worked that way, to some degree.

So, it's more intriguing than impossible, to the man.]

We Springtide don't keep our memories, when we are reborn. There are some ways to tell who you were in a past life. In some part, at least. Few souls return exactly the same....

Something like that...I [ Or who he was supposed to be, anyway. ] died a very long time ago. But instead of becoming a ghost or something similar, my spirit went to the Throne of Heroes.

[ It wasn't entirely untrue. Without the spirit of Cú Chulainn proper in the Throne, Medb wouldn't have been able to summon an Alter of him. ]

It's not reincarnation. We're nothing more than ghosts given solid form to fight on behalf of the person who summons us in a Holy Grail War. A Servant has the memories and personality of their original life, but we don't remember previous summonings.

[ He didn't remember the events in America where he was the Mad King, where he had been partially fused with a Demon Pillar.

Slowly, Berserker does start to relax. Even if he's in a vulnerable position, he doesn't see Everett as a threat. His wings fold down and the tension leaves his shoulders. ]

What purpose does reincarnation serve you?

[He's very glad to feel Berserker slowly relaxing, it will make the second wing a bit easier to dry off, as he moves to that one]

That is intriguing. Ah! So. That is what makes you and Caster so similar in appearance? The same spirit in life, returned in different form? [Caster, Berserker, ah... even Lancer. Yes. This begins to connect in his mind. Those do sound less like names in this context, more like classifications. Everett believe's he's catching on.]

Your bonded is one of your sort, I presume. But not the same man as you and Caster were, in life? [seems a bit narcissistic to bond with an extension of yourself. Not that Everett would judge. He'd get it, he's a vain sort of man, himself.]

For my people, it's not done on purpose. Merely happens, Myddvai cycling a soul through itself and renewing it with new life. It is a natural cycle, like the rains or the seasons.

[ This is treading a very fine line between what's safe to reveal and what isn't. It should've been obvious to him that Everett would've caught on. There's no reason to deny it, though, so he nods. ]

Yes. We are the same spirit. [ More or less. ] And yes, Lancer is also the same as we are. He's not the same person, but he is another one from Ireland.

[ There's an awful lot of Celtic Servants in Aefenglom. ]

Hm. It must serve some kind of purpose. A shame to not know who you were, though.

[ He casts a glance back over his shoulder with a slight smirk. ]

Are you sure you aren't just using my wings being wet as an excuse to touch me?

Edited 2019-10-05 00:26 (UTC)

[Everett nods along, but catches the cagey discomfort creeping in. He won't push for more information, it's enough to know for now. Not a reason to spoil a good conversation with prying. Everett laughs slightly at the commentary]

I actually do know who I was, in a past life. An important person in Springtide history, even! My people can tell such things by matching a child's handwriting to those of influence. Such things deviate more, as one lives their current life. I am my own person, after all. [He is Everett, not the man who lived some ages ago, of that he is very sure.

Another laugh follows, at the excuse comment, Everett teasing]

I thought that was quite obvious, my dear. Does that discomfort you?

Edited 2019-10-05 00:33 (UTC)

Hm...As you say.

[ My own person...If Everett only knew how true that rang for himself, too. Berserker's been having somewhat of an identity crisis, coming into his own as a person and not just as a Servant. He no longer views himself as nothing more than a tool for a mage to use. He has a purpose and a meaning beyond that now. It's both freeing and difficult because he still uses his class name.

He pushes those thoughts aside and deflects instead. Focusing on something else is a better idea than dwelling. ]

No. But if you're trying to answer my challenge, you'll have to try harder.

Is that so? [Everett laughs at the commentary, finishing up drying the wings before tossing the wet towel to his tea table to dry.

His hands return though, following the curve of the wings to the man's back, caressing him firm, but playfully]

They seem rather sensitive. Perhaps a proper massage would better keep your attention!

They are. I hate to say it but I'm still not used to them. [ The scrapes on the walls of Diarmuid and Waver's apartment showed that much. ] And...do as you will. It's not a challenge if I make things easy for you, is it?

[ He does, however, push his wings forward to wrap over his shoulders. If Everett wants to try a massage, so be it. ]

Not at all. Let's see if I can keep you entertained... or at least relaxed. It seems you could need it, your shoulders are the most tense I've ever seen! [and Everett has some well trained, strong hands from climbing. You bet he knows how to give a good massage, only a polite skill to learn, for a man who so enjoyed doting upon his partners.

He won't take his gloves off, so he's sure to not burn too much friction down. Pressure, sure, but nothing to irritate the skin or scales of the man. He starts at the base of the wings, where they connect, and works nice circles into the muscles, feeling them out as he goes. Not what he's used to, exactly, but he knew a vampire with similar limbs. He'll make this work out nicely.]

[ There are plenty of knots and tension for Everett to work out. Berserker isn't the kind of person to relax nor take care of himself and it shows. He's gotten better about the latter part, at least, if only for Diarmuid's sake.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good, too. Soft sounds come from him, betraying his stoic exterior. Damn it...Showing weakness of any sort is something he's still not comfortable with, even around people he feels he can trust. Vulnerability is dangerous in the life he'd led. He leans forward just a little bit, trying not to give into himself too much. ]

... You're good, I have to admit.

I thank you for the compliment. Clever hands are a specialty of mine.

[it's innuendo as much as it's fact! Everett is very skilled and very proud of what he can do with his hands. They've always been unyielding steady and the massage is effective because it's not too gentle. Those knots of muscle weren't going to feel a thing, work out in the slightest, if he wasn't rough in massaging them.

Everybody could use a deep tissue massage once in a while, but Berserker was particularly in need. Something Everett is happy to oblige, from his wings into where his spine protruded.]

You're of impressive build, my dear. I would expect nothing less of a warrior, yet you still astound.

Maybe you'll get to use them elsewhere if I'm feeling generous.

[ Considering Berserker hasn't stopped him yet, he is.

His body is honed for strength beyond anything else. Compared to Caster, he's thicker, his muscle more built up. It's not just for show, either -- it's quite functional. He's used to getting looks because of his body and whispered comments. His visible strength adds to his intimidating aura.

That intimidating aura is less pronounced now as he's practically melting beneath the firm touch of Everett's hands. Berserker gives up his strong front and relaxes entirely into the massage. ]

My build's not just for show...I could overpower you with the lightest touch if I chose.

[ The more he thinks on that, the more he likes it. How easy it would be to pin him down, if he chose...Only if the faun was willing, of course. He can't help these predatory thoughts sometimes. ]

Edited 2019-10-05 23:44 (UTC)

I don't doubt you could, but you might be surprised. I'm stronger than my academic looks imply. [All the climbing and travel he did made Everett strong and he has had many years to not only build his strength, but maintain it. What he might lack in youthfulness, he made up for with sheer experience and his muscle was well tested, even if he's still far more lean than Berserker. He's sure he'd be overwhelmed by the dragon, but he could probably push back against him with just enough challenge to impress him. All in good fun, of course, Everett thinking eagerly to the potential. The diplomat knows just how to handle his own body and limits, which is of great benefit, both to himself and his intimate partners.

And he's glad to push harder into Berserker's muscles, moving to the swoop of the man's lower back. Can he get the man to arch and sigh out some more, he wonders?]

[ The lower his touch gets, the less restrained Berserker gets. Though his tail is mostly covered by the robe around his hips, a patch of scales at the small of his back taper down into where it grows from. The spot seems to be especially sensitive, getting a sharp inhale out of Berserker. He can't help but arch into the touch, either...Annoying. ]

Stronger...but not strong enough for it to be a fair fight.

[ Is that a hint of lust in his tone? He'd deny it if asked, but it's clear. Shit. ]

You like that in a partner, do you? [Everett is pleased to flirt and escalate the mood here. He's already got his hands all over Berserker, it seems clear where this will be going. Building the tension is fun, the faun pressing his bare palms to rub deeply into the muscles of the man's lower back.

He's had to lower himself to rest on his knees behind the seated dragon. He pays close attention to where the skin turns to scales, sure to dote on that area in particular. Seems like just the spot for extra sensitivity, something to exploit for pleasure]

A bit of fight does make for a passionate exchange. In my humble experience.

[ This is such a terribly vulnerable position to be in. His normal instincts are to fight this, to turn this in his favor, but it just feels too good to do that right now.

At least until Everett gives him that opening. Berserker looks back over his shoulder with what can only be described as a predatory smirk. ]

Is that so?

[ He turns suddenly and pushes the faun with enough force to potentially knock him down. Usually he's passive, but this time is different. Congratulations, you answered his challenge, Everett, now reap what you sow. ]

[Yes, this is a very good turn of events.

Everett's eyebrows raise when the man shifts around, moving to push him down onto the floor. He absolutely will allow this, but if he's supposed to make a gesture of fight, he knows which. His arms reach out and loop around the back of Berserker's neck. Not content to merely be pushed back, he uses his own strength to pull the dragon down over top him and hold him there. Eagerly succumbing, but not without his own demanding grasp upon the man.]

Aaha, that smile is dangerous. [all to more exciting for him, danger. A tinge of fear always made things better, got his heart rate racing, and blood pumping. Everett's a thrill seeker at his very core]

I like that, as well.

[ It's no fun if there isn't some kind of resistance. He still has trouble accepting his own desires, though he's gotten better about it; his Bonded has certainly helped on that front. It's still strange to actually want something for himself -- when you've spent your entire existence fulfilling other people's desires, it's difficult to conceptualize the idea of wanting anything.

Those thoughts are forgotten as he lets Everett pull him down. The robe around his waist falls away or (more correctly) is pulled away by his tail, leaving him entirely exposed. Due to his relatively new interest in pleasures of the flesh, it's quite easy to get him going, a fact which is very visible. ]

You wouldn't have as much fun if this were safe.

[ He says as he leans in closer, but not to kiss him. Instead, he sinks his teeth into the side of the faun's neck. ]

[Everett doesn't get much time to look down at the man's fully exposed form, that will need to strike him later. His head falls back at the bite, further exposing his neck. There's a flare of emotion like Everett's not experienced, a prey instinct settling into his mind that ups the thrill factor tenfold. It's terrifying and he adores the rush of that.

Arms and legs both grasping the man over top him in desperation and encouragement. His legs are open around the man, calves hooking around the back of Berserker's thighs, quivering if the man grinds his cock down against him even slightly. One of Everett's hands digs fingertips down into the man's spine, massaging there as he had before, though it's far more heated the act now. His other hand trails up the back of his neck, into blue hair, dragging gloved fingers along his scalp until they grasp into a fist, holding Berserker close, if not restraining him.

His own teeth dig into his bottom lip, moaning in the back of his throat in partial response]

I- I could, yet- t, this is most exciting... [Everett's used to taking a while to warm up, get himself really aroused, not so easily brought to it in his age. That's not the case anymore, not with his faun changes and the moon filling. He's already straining hard against his slacks, wearing just those, his tunic, and his gloves.]

[ Berserker's own predatory instincts are driving him, though he has to be careful to moderate them -- it would be trivial to kill Everett. Reframing them in a different light helps keep it from escalating: a mating situation. Killing your chosen partner is a bad idea, then. Marking them, however, is perfectly fine (poor Diarmuid is usually on the receiving end of this behavior). He releases the bite to lap up the small droplets of blood that welled up.

He lets Everett hold him in place, though he presses his cock against him, seeking any kind of stimulation he can get. The faun's clothing is a problem...After another, slightly gentler bite to his throat, Berserker murmurs a question. ]

How attached are you to your clothing?

[ Read: "Either you take them off or I'm tearing them off." ]

Bring me to bed and I'll take off everything we need. [Everything but his gloves, meaning.

He does not really want to fuck on hard floor. This is going to be (wonderfully) difficult on him, he doesn't need to make it more so. Also, there's potions for lubricant in there, better to move close to them than need to interrupt when it's inopportune.

He lets his legs and grip slack again, presuming the man will move off him and they can retreat to his room. The door is open, bed visible from the living space. Berserker could pick him up and carry him there if he's moving too slowly for the excited dragon]

[ But he wants it now!! Berserker is more than ready to just fuck him against the floor, the realities of the situation be damned. His (slightly) more rational brain takes over, though, as he just kind of scoops Everett off the floor. It's not a dignified way to carry someone, under one arm like a ball, but it's effective. He sees his destination and if that's what's standing between him and what he wants, he'll go there.

The faun gets tossed onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. He looks at him like a predator staring at its cornered prey. ]

Hurry up, then...

[Oop, whelp, here he is getting manhandled! It's a fine enough evening for it, he's not going to lie. When he lands on the bed, Everett gets the first good look at Berserker in full, naked form. This time, he's not looking away, allowing the flustered reaction to fall over his expression without shying or covered it up. He suspects Berserker will like to see it on him, embarrassing though it may be]

Yes. [a simple answer, Everett obliging. His tunic is easy to pull up and over his head, revealing the toned build of his chest and arms. Gloves remain, but his pants are next, swept off him in a smooth motion, both articles cast aside carelessly. Everett's a man proud of his body and confident in his looks, so there's no attempts to hide a bit of himself. He's erect, length well suited to his height, but nothing compared to what the dragon had manifested.

It's a deliberate thing, the drag of his tongue over his lips, Everett very much means to make a show over that little gesture]

[ Berserker is used to fear reactions to his size and aura. What he's not used to, however, is caring about those reactions. Normally, it gets very little response from him -- he's used to people begging for mercy from him and there was no place for mercy in his world. This is different, though. This sort of flustered reaction plays into his newfound predatory instincts, whether he realizes it or not.

As Everett strips, Berserker becomes less composed...not that he had much composure in the first place. The fact he leaves his gloves on goes without comment -- it's odd, certainly, but his mind is elsewhere. Such trivial details are none of his concern right now. He crawls onto the bed, nudging the faun down onto the mattress. He's so used to being passive in these matters that it's a little odd to assert dominance.

He'll get used to it. ]

Much better...Now where were we?

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