( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

[transmit]

WHO: Elysium & friends(?)
WHAT: This is now just a catch-all for everything
WHERE: Everywhere
WHEN: 2024
WARNINGS: Blanket warning for possible explorations of dark themes in general, please tread at your own risk. I will, however, endeavour to include specifics in headers if applicable.

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[transmit]

[ 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. ]