synflux | ( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

["Sorry for trying to go on without you. It won't happen again."]

[The laugh reaches his ears. Its different. It rings as hollow as a sound in a cave.]

[His other hand pulls up, as if by a string, to clasp the other by the neck and pull him in. He kisses him. It's a different kiss, just like it was a different laugh. Sampo knocks his forehead against the other's, mirth in his eyes.]

You're right. I'm real sorry, too.

[He says it in a carefree way, like he, too, is just saying it to keep up appearances. Another kiss, but his voice is taut as a rope to an anchor.]

Are you going to make me into you, when all is said and done? Since that's what you did with Mister Elysium. What should I call you? "Hell"?

[ The first kiss has him blinking back, surprised, as though it's something he would've never expected. Gazing back passively, it's as though the second one causes him to come alight with understanding, body reacting instinctively to wrap him in his arms and hold him close. Or, because that would be attributing far too much warmth into the gesture, Sampo might feel trapped; Elysium's subtle acuity is gone, replaced with something that's pure indulgence on the surface, and yet

it's true. It might feel as if something is trying to consume him whole.

He kisses back fervently, taking his sweet time reexploring the cavity of Sampo's mouth with his tongue. There should be no shortage of passion, but his gaze looks almost clinical; even if Sampo begins to show signs of struggle, Elysium doesn't let go—no, he persists until he's satisfied.

The pretty, pretty, red from his memory. He wants to see it for himself. ]

What makes me not Elysium? [ His eyes flutter half-shut, another amused laugh. A hand rests on the base of Sampo's tail, and kneads gently into it, something he might've done out of curiosity some time ago. ] I like you for you. Your selfishness, your nastiness, your terribleness. Because despite all that, you have your vulnerabilities and downfalls just like everyone else——me.

[ which is to say, it's no fun if he doesn't choose the option himself. ]

Ha...

[How needy. How clingy. "Elysium" presses his kiss in like a starving man, stealing his air (is there air at the bottom of the ocean), with body pressed against him. It makes his breath hitch, but it hurts, a radiating stabbing heat throughout his chest.]

[He might be trapped, but there's something flickering in his eyes - like a glimpse of yellow, a glint of a coin in the darkness.]

[He sighs at the knead to his tail - another kiss to "Elysium"'s corner of the mouth, though his eyes are wide open.]

[He giggles, and it sounds like bells.]

Wow. Big words. You really know what to say to make a man's heart flutter. [And now a show of a fang, pressing into the other's cheek.] But...how can you like me for me...if I'm not even me? Are you blind?

You never answered me earlier. What makes me not me. Is it because you can't?

[ He closes his eyes briefly and smiles against Sampo's fang; much like with the knife, he's free to do what he wills. That's his answer to Sampo's question: he's thinking too much and making it far too complicated. He doesn't have to. ]

… Do you blame me? [ He reopens his eyes, and there it is: the greatest facsimile of Elysium of them all, that characteristic edge and taunt to his demeanour. ] For wanting even one more hour with you, back then.

[ for taking that vial. ]

[Another little laugh - but his mouth is closed now. It sounds like its echoing. He mouths along the other's jaw, pausing finally to speak. Elysium really is beautiful.]

No, I can. I just don't think something like you could understand. Well, maybe I'll give you a hint! As a free benefit of our prior transaction. Haha. Our push and pull - do you think he would give in so easily?

[He tosses the bouquet to the floor, dragging the man's hand to the small of his back. The bouquet is growing new flowers, red poppies, like splashes of blood against the ocean backdrop.]

Ol' Sampo Koski wanted more back then, too. He went mad over it, y'know. But what is madness, but elation? Heehee. [He nuzzles into the other's neck, a cloying gesture as sweet as cough syrup.] One more hour, you say. What would you do? Claim what's yours?

[ His expression shifts to what it was before, seemingly thoughtful. He really doesn't. Understand, that is, when left with a collection of memories as well as feelings that Elysium's subconscious refuses to unpack by itself. There's desire; there's longing. Yet, there's reluctance with them too, which makes no sense to something that lacks a sense of danger entirely.

Once again, a beatific smile.

He only knows. What does he need to understand, when things will fall into place anyway? At least, he has an answer for that question: as for what Elysium would do with that extra hour, and as Sampo nestles into his neck, he's back to holding him in a tender embrace, resting his head against Sampo's as mouth falls next to his ear. ]

Hmm. You were never mind to have, then. [ 'then.' ] I would've wanted to thank you for the end of a beautiful journey, and enjoy that last sunrise with you.

[ A pause to go over motions in his head; a kiss to Sampo's temple. ]

But now, I can thank you for the start of a new one. [ hehe. ] A single sunrise is a small price to pay for an eternity.

[The tender embrace seems to make something crack. The kiss to his temple even more so. Sampo's breath starts to hitch, before it staccatos out of his pained chest. A ha-ha-ha-ha but it's clear its from him sobbing.]

[Tears flow out of his eyes. It's almost cartoonish, like a flow has just been turned on, but he's absolutely shedding tears that drip down his face and onto the other man.]

Why did you die, Elysium? Why did you die...? Is eternity really going to be the same without you?

[The tears are leaving red streaks on his face, like makeup is dissolving.]

[ Now

that isn't a part of the script. The typical response to tears might be to offer comfort and/or reassurance—but neither of them are typical in any sense of the word. As is, he unwinds; he takes a step back and looks on as though he's observing a science experiment gone awry.

An episode? Should he knock him out? He tilts his head in curiosity. The colours and theatrics do nothing to faze him, and he simply takes a hand to touch the red streak in wonder. ]

… You have all the time in the world to figure it out. Haha. Should I leave you be for the time being? Would that help?

No. No. Please don't leave me.

[His tail curls around the other's legs, like he's a lonely child who doesn't want to let go of their favorite stuffed animal. The tears stop as soon as they came, like they never happened. He still looks pained, though, breathing heavily.]

Such a nasty trick you've played. Well done. Ol' Sampo would give you a round of applause. You killed Elysium and replaced him, skin and bone. You really are a worthless, needy little organism.

[And then, its as if invisible fingers are compressing over his body. More snapping occurs, as Sampo's body suddenly spasms and crumples, a doll smashed where its held in an unseen fist. The voice echoes, like from a faraway carnival, tinny and dramatic.]

Too bad! I've done exactly the same thing.

[THEY are too big for this room. One would say THEY are more than the entire ocean, a worthless puddle to keep in a snowglobe and shake as much as THEY wanted. THEY cannot be seen, but THEY are seen, from the red poppies to the eyes that blossom to the poker cards that start to flutter and scatter like butterflies in the air.]

[THEY brush off Sampo's face to reveal vivid red, uncrumple him, brush over his clothes, and set him onto his feet like a kid would do to a toy in a dollhouse. "Sampo" waves and smiles and dances, with limbs akimbo like a automated puppet.]

What fun, what fun! [There's laughter, there's party poppers, a rush of screams, a rush of circus music.] You really bought it! How stupid you are. Aha told you. Didn't THEY tell you? Do you know who THEY are? Put your hands together, pray, and make a guess straight from your heart!

( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2 cw: body horror

2/2