(Closed) Deceuer Catch All

[mirshikar]

Who: Asura + Plotted CR
When: Deceuer
Where: Various locations in Aefenglom, the Outer City, and the Wilde.
What: Quest and event threads, along with a healthy dose of clowning. I'm always down for building new CR, so if you'd like a thread starter, feel free to hmu @ the Dec plotting post!
Warnings: Light violence.

Comments

[mirshikar]

[ No, it isn't quite how it works, but Asura humors Sokie all the same, emptying the contents of the satchel into the palm of his taloned hand for 'cleaning' and inspection both. And if the King is at all surprised by the discovery that the jewelry piece is a gimmal band (two links joined together as one, a mark of betrothal more than it would ever be of fashion), it doesn't show on his face. Instead: he is only mischievous as he ducks his head, puffing out a warm breath (fogging the metal over with condensation) before...! Seeing the ring polished with the hem of his shirt.

What he does not do is ask, demanding explanation for a trinket so largely out of place amidst the (harmonious) violence which he and Sokie have wrought together. He'd glimpsed it, of course, the pained look which she'd worn (like a child, working up to a confession of sorts), and while Asura is openly curious (there is no denying as much), he knows full well where he can press Sokie and where he cannot.

So he only grins, nodding his head in satisfaction with his completed cleaning job, before pronouncing— ]

Well, it's definitely safe now. [ He'd been thorough, after all. ] Besides, if you bothered to carry it with you all this way, leaving it here would be a shame.

[ He stalls, then, before returning the ring to its satchel, the weight of the gimmal band gone heavy in his palm as the after-effects of magic catch up with him. And though he's employed fire spells aplenty over the course of their time in the Wilde, during his watch at night, he'd called upon divination in the hopes of garnering something (a vision, some knowledge of the Cwyldtid which they hunt) from the dying forest. But rather than reveal any truths of Geargadas, what his magic unearths is....

An unbidden impression from gimmal ring, sealed there by emotion and buried by time.

(A man, jawline for days, with tousled flaxen hair and eyes the color of steel.)

Realizing he'd lapsed into silence uncharacteristic to him, Asura recovers by seeing the ring airborne with a gentle toss, and effortlessly catching it with the satchel. It's an easy thing, after that, to see the parcel returned to its owner, the tips of his talons pressing it into Sokie's hands. ]

...something tells me it traveled a long way to see you, too. [ Green eyes lowering to meet with Sokie's own, Asura's lips quirk up into a wry smile. ] Through time and space and those damn one-way gateway mirrors.

It may be more useful thank you think. [ Or at least, more of an asset than the Gilded Torc which he himself had received. Drawing back and away, there's an easy laugh on his lips as he shakes his head, trying to rid the residual impression from his mind's eye (to no avail). ] Hell, it could even be an inter-dimensional key.

[ Whatever Sokie does or does not tell him, he'll run with it. It's her story, her ring. ]

[weirdnecro]

[Was he being helpful? He was not being helpful. He was being a deviant, with his buffing the ring and looking at it, and...did he just...no, he might be learning divination, but he wouldn't get visions, right? No.

Because then she'd really have to get angry at him. Though it wasn't as if he wasn't used to her yelling at him. Usually he made her yell for various reasons other then anger, but anyway.

She crushes the bundle in her hand, and she is tempted to huck it right into the bushes.]

A wedding ring, being an inter-dimensional key? The only thing it is is a shackle.

[She's joking about it, but she's bitter too, even as she moves to tie it back onto her belt loop. Angrily too.]

Especially when it's as new was the day it was locked together. It must have been just cleaned up, right before we connected them together.

[She reaches up to honk his nose, before walking a step beyond him, and another, to survey that they were really out of danger.]

You can make up whatever stories about it that you like Asura. I don't care. But it's not useful. I'm just looking for a reason to destroy it at first opportunity.

[mirshikar]

[ Sokie, she's playing defense, isn't she? Despite presently occupying the vast expanse of the Wilde, it's like she's got her back to a wall, and all over something so small as a ring. Asura, he's never seen her in precisely this light (felt her anger coil about her in cold, virulent wreaths instead of being directed outward), but he'll take all of it (all of her) without question. He knows it well, that shackles can manifest in any form (a gimmal band, a diadem, a memory), and he isn't about to go and dredge up the past (ugly, as Asura imagines it must be, to elicit such a response from Sokie) on account of some vision which he didn't ask to receive. Whoever that man had been (what they had meant to her), the King does not doubt that they are little more than dust now, kept alive if only by Sokie's own anger.

(Just as Asura keeps the memory of that creature alive, their Title embedded in his flesh and blood. And in this way, the Changeling and Necromancer both are more similar than not. ) ]

Much as I like telling tales of Summer's triumphs over the things which go bump in the dark, I'm not in the business of making up fables concerning the people I care about. [ —casual and cool where Sokie burns, Asura makes a show of wrinkling his nose (that honk had been something, not quite the usual pulling of hair) as he follows Sokie's line of sight with his own.

He hears the pair of Cwyld-touched creatures before he sees them, footfalls and rustles of foliage circling the ground upon which he and Sokie stand. With a shift of stance, he sees Sokie and himself positioned back to back, nearly touching as Asura once again summons his spear of flame to hand. ]

The only story I'm concerned with is the one where we carve a path forward together.

[ Against anyone and anything which would seek to keep them bound, Geardagas itself included. ]

Tell you what. [ —he starts, eyes falling closed as he tilts his head back, listening for the Cwyld-beast and gauging their size to be e x t r a large from the sound of their gait; the way bushes and brambles snap and break from their movements. ] When we can catch a breather, how about you give the ring to me, and I'll ensure you never have to see it again? I'll see it cast into the forge at the magitech shop once we get back to the city proper.

[ And that sentiment? It's languid and easy, like they were talking about dinner plans in the comfort of their shared home rather than being stalked by a pair of blighted creatures out in the Wilde after Asura had only just discovered that Sokie had been engaged and married once upon a time.

But then, life's just like that, and sometimes, you've got to roll with it instead of against it, yeah?]

[weirdnecro]

[Her anger is smoldering, cold, bitter. She normally doesn't get angry, but this is something directed to herself, at the foolishness that she did as a younger woman. She supposed that she needed this to grow, but it's still...she can still remember his face with unbelievable clarity, the way that it felt when he slipped the ring onto her finger, the names he called her, how he had tamed her, bit by bit, like another would a feral animal.

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. But now she knows better.]

I'd certainly hope not. It's only cute sometimes.

[Ah. Shades. The battle that's to come calms her, and she traces the rune for shields over their skin, for flames to come to her fingers. Killing something will make her feel better for certain, and...that offer...she knew he had been going to the magitech shop for pittance (really everyone paid a pittance unless it involved magic), but the idea of him taking it for the forge...she exhaled through her nose.]

You can take it to the forge. If you want to sell it for raw materials, it's all the better. Use it to buy yourself nice.

[Sokie isn't exactly greedy, but it sounds like she doesn't want even to profit off of it. Guess it wasn't a happy marriage if she didn't want to even keep it. It's fine, they can talk after they're done killing Shades.]

[mirshikar]

Something nice? [ —Asura drawls with a bark of a laugh, poised to defend both Sokie and himself at a moment's notice as he continues on, mirthful and candid when he asks: ] But what could compare to this?

[ The feel of Sokie's power against his skin, the crackle and spit of the flames comprising his spear, and the sparks of fire (his element, his heraldry) at Sokie's own fingertips resonates in the very core of his being, as powerful as the wardrum beat of his heart and its yearning for battle. That she has given him this is enough; it is his turn, now, to help her in kind, starting with laying waste to the first of the Shades which lunges forward with such speed and savage abandon that even Asura can appreciate its ferocity.

Asura knows: the rhythms of violence which he and Sokie had learned to move to together will be of comfort to her (as they would be to him, were his own wrath not already tempered). And though the immediate impact of felling a Shade, seeing its shell of infection part from the host within, is no true victory, it will still serve as vehicle to move forward, past the memory of a marriage gone sour. ]

How about we donate the proceeds, instead? [ Bantering, still, even as he plunges his weapon into the ravenous maw of the Shade which would have liked to devour the 'prey' it presumed both Changeling and necromancer to be, Asura does not falter in saying: ] Let something good come out of the weeds, as it were.

[ The darkly reverberating shriek of pain the creature releases, after that, is more than enough to call its backup into the fray. And when the second, larger creature surges out of the treeline, intent upon bringing Asura down, the King—locked in contention with the Shade he'd wounded—is open to attack.

Or, at least, he might have been, were he bereft of a partner. ]

[weirdnecro]

I mean, you could get something on your horns, something from the blue district...

[She drawled, but her mind was already focused on what was to come. She could feel the heat of her blood, the tingle and tug of his magic as it surged and-

There was one shade, which she let him take without contest. While he has a nice idea, she made a face, and turned to take out the second, larger creature with a bolt of fire-and made a yanking motion to make the flame burn ever higher. Hotter, so the shade would stop and shriek in distraction and pain.

No one is going to touch her boy toy.]

Bad idea. We don't know if the money is actually going where we want it to go. For all we know, it could get pocketed by someone in the office or bullied out of their hands or whatever.

[mirshikar]

Then--... [ Yeah, no one's going to touch him out here in the Wilde, not unless it's Sokie herself. The second Shade? It goes up in flames, immobilized from the shock of its shadowed carapace sloughing off of its frame from the intensity of the heat, and the first...? Well, it still looks like something out of a horrorshow (mostly because it is), its singed mouth steaming, plumes of smoke rising from seared flesh and filtering between its gnashing teeth as it proves itself relentless, attacking despite injury.

Instead of summoning forth another spell for aid, the King catches the creature with a side-sweep of his spear, goading it back, until it's right up against the Shade still caught well within Sokie's flames. And then, it's corralled, pinned between the burning shell of another Cwyld-touched beast and the blinding blaze of Asura's weapon. ]

We invest and we build, making sure the donation is used properly and well. It's a little extra work, but... [ Here, Asura gives pause to lunge forward, acting before the cornered Shaded might be able to lash out (let it be done; let these blighted beasts be put to final rest), his spear a perfect extension of his body as it strikes with the precision one might expect of a rapier but never a lance or stave. The weapon drives through both creatures, sealing their fate in tandem, but... Death comes slowly, for the Shades. They keen and howl and writhe in pain, the sound of it lingering in Asura's ears when he speaks again: ] ...at the end of the day, it'll be well worth it.

[ And when it's over—completely, both Shades ceasing to move and twitch in their last throes—he looks to Sokie, catching and holding her gaze with his own: ] There's something I should let you know, but let's take care of this mess [ the corpses, in need of proper disposal ] and make camp first.

[weirdnecro]

[Sokie reserves the right to punch Asura first, second, and last, clearly. But...well, the Shades are not going to be their downfall. Not today. And she's not going to punch him either. She lets him make the last blow (or blows) for him.

Currently it seems they're doing fine. No more Shades are coming for them, which is good. And while his news of something he had to tell her did not bode well, she shook it off for now.

They needed to take care of the bodies, or else it would make a mess for any animals or people that came across the corpses.]

You're such a goody goody. Gawd. Just treat yourself.

[It's a fond exasperation though as she starts walking around the corpses, magic raising and a ward being built-this one in particular being made so ashes won't blow in the wind, and they would be trapped until she lets it go.]

Could you do the fire thing? Once we've cleaned up, we can see about finding and making camp.

[mirshikar]

Goody-goody? [ —he grouses, expression flitting into the realm of s o u r as Sokie gives life to a protective ward (necessary, not only to prevent the spread of ash, but to provide enclosure for the incinerating magic which she bids of him), her execution of the spell as flawless as her attack upon the Shades had been. And once the barrier hangs suspended over the corpses, Asura needs only to draw upon the wrath fueling the beat of his heart, his every breath, to summon a maelstrom of flame within the confines that Sokie has set. The force of his magic is wild, unrestrained, and were the necromancer not the one who had fashioned the ward, it is all too likely that Asura's fire would have fractured it, rending it to pieces.

But as it is: Sokie's his match, and the fallen Shades waste away, turning to dust which will need to be buried beneath the Wilde's blighted earth, sealed beneath the land like crude oil and coal where they could do no further harm. ]

You're going to ruin my reputation, if you keep saying things like that. [ With a slow exhale (a slope of his shoulders), Asura releases his spell—both of them. The spear of flame? Gone from his hands. The smoldering vortex of fire so hot it burned blue? Dispelled from beneath the veil of Sokie's barrier. ] Besides, you know full well that I'm easy to satisfy.

[ Asura's grin? It deepens, creasing the fullness of his mouth with fondness for the woman standing abreast of him. ]

At the end of the day, all I need is a bottle of whiskey and someone strong at my side.

[weirdnecro]

[She grins at his grousing. If she hadn't been busy setting up the ward for Asura's pyre, she would have cackled. She cares about Asura a lot-way more then she'd like to admit, of course-but she also likes jerking his chain.

Of course, it helps that she also thinks that he is being a goody goody, but he is a lawful good to her choatic neutral.

Well. Unless he's setting things on fire. Then he's more of a firework on gasoline. She's not worried though in him shattering her ward-she knew he was letting as loose as she could contain.]

What reputation?

[C h e e k y. She's still smiling, even as she moves her hand to press it down, letting the heat sink into the ground, and the ground is warded. The ashes were still there, and there was still the wind to consider.]

Yes, you're easy to satisfy, but that doesn't make you less of a goody goody.

[He's going to get her for that. She knows it. She's already shifting her hips slightly, getting ready to leap away from his possible grab.]

[mirshikar]

[ He totally is going to get her for that, but not for the reason that Sokie might imagine. Yeah, Asura resents the term 'good-goody' (he's never perceived himself in that light, even if enacting Summer's justice places him, ironically, on the right side of the law), but what makes him go in for that grab is Sokie herself. He'll humor her, and not only just this once—if it'll inspire one of her grins (perfectly devious things, those are), he'll sign himself right the fuck up to answer the call, especially when it's fun. And this, right here right this second, is a test of Sokie's agility against the length of Asura's reach, and the King? Well, he's not about to turn down that contest. Going in, there's a glint of his golden talons before...! He lunges, attempting to take hold of the necromancer by her waist, and if he's successful, he'll draw her person in close to him (bah on trying to leap away!).

But either way, he'll still shake his head with a laugh: ] I'd dare you to try and convince anyone I've bested in a fight of that.

[ H m p h. Who's a good guy, anyway!! During those moments (when he's squaring off with an opponent who stands a chance of matching him), Asura can be, well, a beast. Especially if he's let loose in a way similar to his toying with evocation and flame. Looking to the scorched earth, he considers the ashes that remain (and finds himself pleased with how quickly he'd managed to incinerate the fallen Cwyld-creatures), and looks to Sokie, asking— ]

You want to crack open the ground to get the ashes buried, or is that on me?

[weirdnecro]

[It's a really terrible thing to call it-a goody goody. She would hate to be called that herself. Though his grabbing at her has her trying to dance backwards, and he ended up, just barely grabbing her and then...! There she was, squished against his chest!]

I mean...I'd see what they'd think, just to see. Maybe they'll still think you're a good guy.

[Even if he may be a beast when it comes to a fight, he's just so...charming when it doesn't come to him slamming his fist into someone's face. Even that might be charming, she doesn't know. People are weird.

Sokie poked him on the chest.]

It's on you. I'm going to sink magic into this so it's locked in there for a good long while and doesn't get dragged around by accident.

[mirshikar]

[ It'd been close, hadn't it? Sokie, she'd nearly evaded his grasp, and Asura had been uncertain (in a way he never is when battling creatures blighted by the Cwyld) of his own success until the moment when he'd been able to establish a firmer hold, smooshing the necromancer right up against his chest. And for it, he gets... a poke in the pec??

Rude.

Huffing, Asura glances down at Sokie, the curls of his ravendark hair which have loosened from his ponytail falling about them, tickling the skin. Were Sokie to only try to break free of the circle of his arms, she'd find the escape met with no resistance, though... as it is, she remains, and Asura has no reason to relinquish the embrace. He's still fatigued, and the expenditure of so much energy at once has done nothing but put the last of his magic reserves to the test, but... he still has enough in him to fissure the ground beneath the ward, especially if he uses his own body as foci.

One hand leaving Sokie's person, he extends his arm, taloned fingers curling into a fist...! And with a timed, flex and release of his fingers (claws glinting in the light which filters in between the slats among the trees), the earth splits, the ashes of all three Cwyld-creatures slipping into its maw. Closing the fissure sees Asura's outstretched fingers brought back to center, his talons biting into the palm of his hand (admittedly, this particular application of magic is not his area of expertise, and a bit of spilled blood will serve to power it further) as the seams of earth fit back together, all traces of scorched ground-soil gone along with the ash.

Like no battle had taken place at all. Were it not for Sokie's ward, no one would be the wiser. ]

I could concede to you. [ —Asura speaks after a moment, his focus upon Sokie once again. The arm still about her hips squishes her closer still. ] Claim that I'm one of the good ones, but...

[ Here, he gives pause, allowing the weight of a sigh to slope his shoulders now that all is said and done. ] Then, by association, wouldn't you be straight-laced and virtuous, too?

[ Who's teasing who now, huh? ]

[weirdnecro]

[It was really close! But hey, she'll give it to him, he's a quick one. But also, she had to poke him. Because. Well, she had to. She wasn't going to escape his grip, if only because this is lovely, and he's warm and...well, it's pleasant to think of idle carnal thoughts about Asura right there, even while she's holding the ward.

Much better then brooding over the past. The future held all sorts of fun! Maybe. Hopefully. MAYBE.

In the meantime, they're going to be fine. She can smell it, and...she shifts her hips, glancing up at him. Really? He went there? She huffed, and made to brush a hand over his thigh.]

Not at all. It just means I'm a bad influence on you.

[She moved away-not to be sassy or cruel, but to move to enforce the ward. She might have bitten her lip to get the blood she needs, but it's fine. She'll heal it, even if she won't feel that great after.]

I mean...I'd have to tempt you to do things. Such as...risky outdoor coupling. A virtuous woman wouldn't suggest such a thing, now would she?

[...most wouldn't.]

[mirshikar]

In my... professional experience, the most virtuous among us have something within them that is never chaste. [ Otherwise, what drive would they have to be all moral and upstanding and lawful good to begin with? ] And the people who claim to be a bad influence are oftentimes the opposite.

[ Did you hear that, Sokie? You better have, because Asura totally accompanied the sentiment with an eyebrow waggle, before...! He speaks from an oddly solemn place, likely because he's held this particular notion himself: ]

They're the sort that just want to protect others from themselves.

[ And from their damage. And Asura? He's got plenty of that. When you're as old as a Changeling (or as some necromancer who's cooked herself up a bottle of almost-immortality), it's impossible not to. But then, without all that baggage, things would be awfully boring, now wouldn't they? ]

...let's go. Make camp. Maybe engage in some of that risky business you mentioned before. [ Sokie's pulled away, but his hand follows, skimming down the small of back with the promise of sinking lower still. But first: ] Unless you need more juice to complete the ward?

[ And if that's the case, he'll offer himself to be her foci, if only because he's ready to leave the good fight behind for the time being—there will always be more Cwyld-beasts laying in wait within the Wilde's depths (as there will always be evils to slay). The war is always waiting, but Sokie... Sokie is here and Sokie is now, and she'd brushed her hand over his thigh. What he owes her is the truth (Asura, he hates secrets, always has and always will), but also...

Some fucking fun. (Literally.) And hell, they've both earned it. ]

[weirdnecro]

Your professional experience, hmm? You sound so business like.

[She's teasing him. Poor changling, why did he like this necromancer troll? Because she's a troll, to him and to others. She is capable of kindess though, as seen by this hunt even. But...then he has to ruin it by making that observation. His cleverness is part of why she's attracted to him but then...

He has to do something like be observational towards her. Boo she thinks to that. Boo. But outwardly, she huffs, and comes back briefly, if only to brush her hand over his side.]

No, no more juice. The ward is fine, and we really should engage in some of that risky business.

It's been too long, and we've earned it.

[And with that she'd-! Actually catch his hand? And pull him forward, as much as she can. Because they have earned it and too...sometimes she gets a thrill of doing something like this in a risky spot.

But he likely figured that out about her already, during their first raid.]

nsfw allusions ahead!

[mirshikar]

[ Question: what's a guy like Asura to do when Sokie gives voice to his own internalized sentiments before reciprocating his touch, delineating the contours of his abdomen with a there-and-gone skirt of her palm?

Answer: when Sokie takes his hand, he follows her pull, his kajal-smudged eyes wickedly agleam and bright with both the promise of imminent pleasure and sheer fucking delight with their shared gall; their bold-faced temerity which surfaces in moments like this one, when they're both tired beyond belief but still spoiling for another hit of adrenaline before all is said and done.

And really, it's no different than the aftermath of their first raid—except for the part where they move hard, fast, and way beyond a single kiss (even if the electricity of that first exchange lingers with the King still, and will be a fond remembrance until the end of his days).

It's afterward, when they've made camp with the supplies in their packs, that Asura (energized and all aglow from their physicality, the feel of Sokie against his skin and her scent which he remains enveloped in) cards a hand through his unruly mane of hair, and feeds kindling to the campfire that's currently heating whatever it is that the mage brought along for a meal. ]

...think you already know what it is that I want to say to you. [ That truth from before which had always been destined to follow their fun; the bout of divination which Sokie had suspected but never confirmed. ] The first thing is: I'm sorry.

[ Which is an apology for— ]

The second thing is: when I picked up your ring, I got an impression without casting a spell. I saw the guy, whoever it was that you shared the band with. And judging by how you felt before, [ that surge of ice-cold anger the sight of the jewelry piece had inspired in her. recalling it now, Asura can still taste it upon his tongue. ] he's someone best forgotten. So I'm going to do my damndest to do just that. Forget.

[ Unless Sokie herself prompts him otherwise. ]

just a few more nsfw allusions /coughs

[weirdnecro]

[And that is how they found themselves lost in each other for a little while. It wasn't long and gentle as it could have been, instead more like a spark turning into a blaze but-

Like a firework, it is quick, exciting, and breath taking, but ultimately, not long. It's not the same as that first electric kiss, but nothing can match it.

It's after, as she's preparing grilled cheese and hearthside tomato soup, hair rumpled and her body feeling both relaxed and sore-she listened as he spoke, still attending to the fire and putting more wood on it- that she's likely to tense.

She doesn't exactly. Tense, that is. Instead, her shoulders slump, and she sighs.]

Of course you saw. It's one of those side effects from doing so much divination magic.

[Like how some witches are toasty warm, or how she can seem solid, more then she is. She rubbed at her neck (feeling a bite mark from their tryst) wincing a little. It was easier. Physical pain, slight as it was.]

You mean my first husband. That is, if he had a jawline for days?

[She says it lightly enough, but it's telling in how she didn't turn around to talk to Asura about it. Sometimes she doesn't, but she usually peeks-to see what he's doing, what his reaction will be.]

[mirshikar]

[ He notices. Sokie, she's all about little tics and tells, from how she goes quiet in the face of truths she doesn't wish to yet acknowledge for herself (they're the sort that just want to protect others from themselves), to how she averts her gaze, stifling her observant nature when she thinks she may look to someone (a friend, a lover, a fixture in her life) and meet with judgement of a kind. But... Asura is absent any strong reaction—Sokie's walked the mortal realm for far longer than he has, and no one's past is all pleasantries, especially ones where wedding vows had soured—instead, he simply comes to stand behind the mage, his taloned fingers carding through her hair, the gesture mirroring the one the mage had used to soothe him many a time. ]

That's the one. Chiseled to high hell and with flaxen hair that'd put a damn storybook prince to shame.

[ Far more delicate and deft than most would give him credit for, with gentle motions, Asura ceases to brush and card, instead massaging intricate filigrees and pattern against the nape of Sokie's neck, before...! His fingers sweep over that bitemark which he'd given the mage in exchange for the rake of her nails down his shoulderblades. The sting had been pleasurable, after all, and a gift should always be answered with another.

But the massage continues, as Asura recalls further— ]

His eyes were the blue-grey of steel, and the look he wore was adoring... [ Of you, he doesn't need to say. ] But he didn't last long, did he, if he was only your first.

[ Because from the way she'd said it, first, there's no doubt in Asura's mind that there had been more to come afterward. ]

[weirdnecro]

[With Sokie, it was all about the little things. She could present a blank page, but- not here. Not with Asura. He'd hate it, especially after all they've done together today.

But it's sweet, how he goes to comfort her-and even makes that little touch on her neck to go with it. Possessive, but subtle. Well. Subtle for Asura at least, as he tried to coax more out of her.

It helped, more or less. Though her mind was less on the food she was tending to, now, and more on the image that came to her mind. The eyes; the way he laughed. How he first held her hand and their first dance.

What a bunch of sentimental slop.]

You say that as if I haven't lived long enough to have more then one marriage. How hurtful.

[She says it lightly enough, and made a soft noise, wincing a bit. The muscle under his hand had been harder then she thought, due to stress.]

But it didn't last long. He divorced me. He was allowed to by the Church due to infertility. My infertility.

[mirshikar]

[ Sokie's right. Asura, he would hate it if she went shields up, denying herself her rightful wrath (her sorrow, desire, fear, and all of the emotions that went hand in hand with promising yourself to someone else) by wearing some cool veneer which neither she nor the King (not now, not after all the moments—impassioned battles and heated kitchen arguments, surprising creature comforts and little indulgences, lessons learned from one another even after several lifetimes spent wandering the world—where he'd seen her spark and come alive) would believe.

But... it's still something largely unexpected, when she entrusts him with something that's so very weighty and yet so fragile at once. More than how her marriage had ended, it's that she had wanted children. Had tried. Found out only through the process that she'd been infertile. And at that time (Asura's no great historian of human civilization, but he's versed enough to know that it had been centuries ago, when the institution marriage had still been considered so sacred that it could only be severed under ordained circumstance), Sokie had been the one hurt by Prince Charming, the union they'd forged together dashed upon the rocks and all because that asshole Goldilocks felt entitled to more and couldn't look past it. Couldn't see Sokie for who she was. ]

You're quiet. [ Fingers kneading the muscle at the base of Sokie's neck, he finds the tension there and works to undo it, his voice not without it's even, rhythmic cadence as he speaks: ] Would've expected you to scream and shout something like that into the fire, letting it burn away.

You still can, if you want. [ Catharsis, in the form of flame and Asura's ear horn. ] It feels like you've been holding onto that for centuries, [ with how rigid the muscle of her back is beneath his hands] give or take a few years.

The idea of him. Of a family. [ The question which Asura asks next, it's absent of anything but a desire to know the woman who's chosen the name Sokie Undertown; to see her clearly: ] Does it mean something to you, still?

[ Or is it simply the bitter taste of a memory soured at the back of the mouth? ]

[weirdnecro]

[With them it's yelling down the hall, petty arguments that really meant nothing, and talking. Sometimes evenings where they were annoying each other. She could be detached, be completely emotionless, but this wasn't the time for it.

After all, she offered him something precious. Information that was rarely offered, unknown to others other then well- now him.]

It's a generous offer Asura. But I don't need to shout it. Not now.

[She feels too...tired? To be truly angry right then. As for the question...she shrugged.]

I tried, a few more times. Consulted. Nothing could be done.

I haven't tried to adopt. Not formally. I'd likely be a shitty mother.

[mirshikar]

[ Giving pause in his ministrations, Asura bows his head, bringing his forehead to rest against the place between Sokie's shoulderblades with a soft thump! as though to say: hey, no more self-deprecation, okay? It isn't like her (though the idea of a family must have meant more to her than he had initially imagined when posing the question, inspiring the thought), and no one gets to disrespect Sokie Undertown on Asura's watch, least of all Sokie herself.

When he speaks, next, his words are thoughtful, drawn from what little he knows of the subject: ]

Think that's one of the main criteria of being a parent. Being shitty, in one way or another. I've never heard of any one person excelling at that job. [ The Vallanzasca patriarch and his wife included. How many times had their pint-sized brats clung to Asura's legs, asking him why it hadn't been safe to accompany their parents outside? If Asura could protect their mother and father, why couldn't he do the same for them? Why, why, why were they sheltered all the time, and why did their parents seem like strangers after being away at night? ] And from the outside looking in? It's always seemed like there's a lot of touch-and-go involved.

[ The could be no master-plan for rearing someone up, making sure they were safe, that they were always able to learn and to grow—or so Asura's of the mind. It's no different from the way he shepherds Hedgefresh recruits: no single person flourishes under the same circumstances, the same passage and rites. ]

But... if anyone's got something to offer to a munchkin, it's you Sokie Undertown. [ He smiles and as he does he presses his lips to her skin, letting her feel the gesture for herself before he begins the massage again, thumbs working pressure into her lower back to loosen the muscle there. ] You see the world in ways no one else does, and...

[ Even if it is not passed down to a child— ] That, at the very least, is worth showing someone else. It doesn't matter who it is.

[weirdnecro]

[Was that...was that a headbutt? That was most likely a headbutt. She huffed quietly. She's going to smack him later. Why? Because, that's why.

She's quiet though, listening to what he's saying. If there's anyone who's had a chance to babysit and rise kids, it'd be Asura- if only as King, he had to watch over his Court who were little more then babes born again in a not so mad world.

He also mentioned babysitting kids before too, and accidentally taking away a nightmare, so. But...it makes her wonder something.]

Have you ever thought about it?

[Thought about what, but she clarified as she leaned into the massage:]

Us having kids.

[mirshikar]

[ For the record: if Asura had only been helping himself to a drink of whiskey from one of their 'Wilder's Reserve' canteens, it would have been spit out. All over Sokie. But as it is, Asura is otherwise occupied.

So instead: ]

I have thought about us many times. [ —he starts after a lengthy bout of silence, surprise causing the King's words to catch in his throat because, Sokie, that had come straight out of left field, all right? But the pause had been distinctly lacking in tension, and the massage had continued all the while (where was that spot, the one which would cause Sokie to thoroughly melt into his hands and sigh?), allowing Asura to gauge three important facts: the first, that Sokie did not ask him the question in jest. The second, that the thought (the question, the idea of them as parents) had just now occurred to her. And the third? Well, it's his own answer: ] I have imagined us as protectors and as warriors, and even as one of those damn couples from the romance novels you read to me. But...

Not about kids. Maybe because my kind, we can't have them. [ Inhuman as he is and will always be. ] Or maybe because I'm like you, and didn't think I was cut out for the job.

[ And yet, yet he'd always been a glorified babysitter for an absentee mafioso power-couple, and he had made it his life's work to take tender-footed and green Changelings into Summer's scarred and open arms. ]

But now? Yeah, you bet your ass that I'm thinking about it. [ Read: it's her fault for mentioning it to begin with. ] And I know that, hypothetically, if it were you and me, we could take on a brat or two together no problem.