synflux | ( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

[It's time.]

[They've been through a horrible time. Their wounds have more or lesss healed, even if their mental scares have not set in. Will they ever? It reminds Sampo of that strange limbo-like time after their strange, strange dream at the end of the world. Everything feels so new, so raw, and to patch things, soothe them with this dance that they have is more than acceptable. He may have balked at it before, but....]

[Well. He's here now, at Elysium's bedside. He watches the man sleeping for a bit (he's so comfortable, he begs to be bothered), before he bends in, steals a little kiss.]

Wake uppppp, sleeping beauty. Hehe.

[Elysium may note that Sampo is dressed in his hooded cloak from before, but now he's got a couple of backpacks at his side. Hi.]

[ Elysium hasn't slept well for weeks, now. But it's a different kind of restlessness from the kind that comes from being accustomed to having someone at your side, at the edge of the world, only to realise it was all an extended nightmare—and that they're no longer there when you look over your shoulder once you've made it back to reality. Unlike the actual threat of fangs hovering near your neck, sinking into skin and drawing blood that shouldn't be, at least that could be dismissed as a fabrication, something time might help to forget or ease.

So, when he rouses to a press of something, he has to start questioning whether it was five months or just yesterday, at the edge of some world, and if this was merely a continuation of that same dream. Snakes are fickle. Presences on entry should have him startling awake. He blinks, slow, expression blank. A little like he's yet to fully process Sampo's actions and words, much less his existence. A little like he's uncertain, himself.

… He might stare for several beats longer, but even before any words are spoken, Elysium's fingertips slip into Sampo's hood, gently brushing the back of his neck before threading delicately through the hair at the nape of his head. In tandem with pulling him closer with a gentle pressure, his eyes narrow in a quiet sort of intensity; as though he's testing the very validity of his existence, he presses a slow, lingering kiss to his mouth. ]

[ … It's only after he pulls away, hand dropping back down to his side that he remembers to smile. His eyes crease with—what. Faint amusement? Self-reproach? Maybe it's both.

But he's going to gloss past it anyway. Yeah. Hi. ]

… 'Morning. Are you travelling, or are you moving your entire room somewhere with you? [ Leveraging himself to sit upright, he flicks his gaze over to the backpacks. ] That looks excessive.

[Elysium's eyes crack open. It isn't the end of the world. Not yet. Not while he has anything to say about it. But for a moment, his heart stills, that restless little thing, as the man pulls in to press mouth to mouth as if to drink him in.]

[Elysium pulls back. Sampo's cheeks are flush with warmth, and this snake wants more of it. Greedy, greedy. But he tells himself he can have more later - now he simply stares at the man warmly, propping up his head with a hand against the edge of the bed.]

Its for you, silly. For us.

[Annnnnnd boink! A poke to the nose.]

This Sampo Express will take you outside the city. Just get away for a little while. One of my finest ideas if I do say so, myself.

[ His nose wrinkles on impact. He scowls, just a little, like the aggrieved bird with hackled feathers that he is. He doesn't need to say a word when his expression says it all—he hadn't thought Sampo was serious. And yet, his warmth lingers all the same, cold and scalding in equal measure. They say a lot of things, but that's how it's always been: temporary reprieves or interim shelters away from storms, where the transitory aspect of their interactions had been the defining point of their relationship, or lack thereof, if they really wanted to pretend there was room left for doubt.

The storm's technically over, isn't it? … His reaction had been the same as the other day, no follow-up, no vexation. The third thing. The weight of Sampo's gaze tickles. He flicks his forehead. ]

A—ha. [ … ] I haven't technically been discharged yet. You better not throw out something corny like, 'This is a kidnapping.'

[ says the guy who has made an effort to sneak out several times already and had used the exact line elsewhere. how the turn tables, déjà vu.

'us.' what a word. arms crossed in front of his chest, he leans forward, humoured. ]

… And if I tell you a little won't be enough? —Just kidding. Where's the terminus, hm?

[Of course, this is all new. So new that he has half an urge to throw up his hands, make a joke about it, leave, make another prank, or find some form of chaos that would fit good old-]

[Well, Elysium said it already. The Aeon, the myth, the legend. He opens his mouth, clearly about to say just that, before those tips of this little bird's fingers find his head.]

Ow! [And now a childish pout, as he's rubbing the sore spot.] Don't go taking it out on my handsome face...

[His beauty is not to be messed with! No trifling! Nothing like that! Except he'll allow it, because Elysium can do what he wants, here. What a strange concept.]

Besides. Mister Hypocrite, I know you've been naughty. You haven't stayed in bed like you should.

[Which really reminds him of the Trailblazer - he briefly wonders if Elysium himself would get lost for over a day playing hide and seek with children. He seems the time. His little pout turns into a smile, then cracks into an amused little grin.]

Annnnnnd that? A surprise. You'll just have to see. Besides, a traveler doesn't always know his destination, right?

[And a little beat, backtracking to the first part as his gaze turns a little more curious.]

How long do you need? Sampo Koski can easily book you for a longer trip, here.

[ Wow. Busted. There's a funny little twist in his chest that unsettling and something else all at the same time. He has no defense for that, so… A quiet huff, and an equally quiet laugh that borders on sounding affectionate. ]

Careful there. [ Leaning closer, close enough for their breaths to touch. ] Say something like that to a traveller, and they [ he, ] might just respond with — 'Long enough to see the far corners of the world, long enough to see every place you or I could name and then some.' Long enough to forget what you set out for in the first place, until you find somewhere unremarkable—a place you choose to rest at simply because it's nothing special—only to be reminded months, maybe years later, that you never meant to stay.

[ Then — a bonk of their foreheads together. ]

Travellers can be romantic like that. Or, from another perspective, unfettered, uninhibited, and absolutely reckless. Don't let yourself get swept up in their paces now. [ His eyes crinkle, even if some of the humour is lost. Is it strange that he's detached himself from the concept of it? Maybe. ] That's why I said I was kidding—I'm still kidding. Heheh.

I'm more curious about your definition of it, anyway.

[You see, he says that. He knows there's something inherent in it that should make any reasonable person with a brain sigh and shake their head. It's too much. A bird will cross many seas in its travels, and maybe it will never find its landing. Many wouldn't be able to make even one inch of that trip.]

[But see, he's not reasonable, and he has a brain, but all of this is just ringing something deep and nostalgic in his chest that pangs like a song. What folly. It drips through his words.]

...You know, you would be a Nameless.

[He drops that as easy as anything, reaching forward to brush his hand through the other's hair. His fingertips are scarred, now - their torment from the people of that vampire-besotted land now a memory of the past.]

I'll have to give you the whole backstory, but....there once was a god, an Aeon, called Akivili. THEY traveled the universe, far and wide, on a train through the cosmos. THEIR followers hold that belief of grand exploration, too. They're romantic, unfettered, uninhibited, and absolutely reckless. They change the tide, those people. And?

[A little wink.]

They're always a hoot to be around.

[ There's some specific vernacular being used here that he isn't being made completely privy to, but Elysium finds that he doesn't mind all that much. It's easy enough to dissect its meaning from the context clues Sampo's provided alone, and he smiles, wistfully, how even across galaxies and universes, societies and individuals alike arrive at eerily similar destinations and conclusions.

Elysium isn't the name of a person, not really. Elysium is the name of a fictitious place of unbridled and perfected happiness, a place that only exists in one's imagination. Much like the illusion that he is who he is, when it's seeming likelier and likelier that he'll have to take up the very name he'd discarded.

At least, that one day isn't today and it probably isn't tomorrow. It could be a week after that, or it could even be the day after. But for once, he's thinking that it might be enough, regardless of the amount of time, canting closer towards Sampo's hand with what would be a fully contented hum were it not for the direct comparison he'd be able to make between previously untextured fingertips and now.

And yet, and yet. The circumstances make it all the different somehow, softer still. What a pain. Things happen for a reason, didn't they? ]

When all that's said and done down below, the only other place to go is to take to the sky and far beyond, huh…? I wonder if I'll ever get to experience that in my lifetime. I'd like to.

[ A sky that isn't a sky with a threat that looms past it. His world isn't the forlorn place most make it out to be, but he can't help but feel envious. ]

… So that's why you called yourself the Sampo Express. [ pfft. ] Alright. Let's see how your experiences chalk up. Then maybe, just maybe, I can show you what it's like to take flight.

[ He leans back. A little wink of his own in return. ]

Are you going to let me get changed, or did you actually want the thrill of feeling like we're on the run, you punk?

→ november wildcards.

→ sampo.

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→ ereshkigal.

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1/9

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→ ishmael... take 2

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