synflux | ( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

[ in which there is no merciful god, just aha

And just as mercilessly, Sampo leaves Elysium with little gaps to take advantage of for a follow-up by launching one of his own, leaving both scant air left in his lungs and a sharp inhale to compensate for it. ]

Ah. Is this how the world's finally ready for us?

[ Them, as the leading roles in their story for two. His eyes shine bright, smile wide, despite how his body betrays his nonchalance with how it's left quivering from Sampo's veritable barrage of attacks. Unadulterated desire, shot through from the venom of Sampo's figurative fangs. It's enough to make a man feel delirious under the intensity of it, with the jut enough to elicit a quiet moan. ]

… With an invitation like that, I can hardly say no. Until you tire and fly away, then——I'll give you as many encores as you'd like.

[ For all his greed, Elysium's words continue to be distressingly soft. As if he's reached an acceptance, as if he's ready to give Sampo all he wants save for the one thing he's wagered, an indulgence reserved exclusively for him, in this crack of time. But the show has to conclude sometime, as it goes with a metaphor attached with a predetermined end, and no amount of extending would change that.

And if it must go on—all the more that it'll have to regardless of any casting changes.

But for now: the stage is them. Elysium answers Sampo with similar fervour of his own. Winding one hand into Sampo's hair to muffle him with another kiss, the other trails teasingly along the hem of his pants, deftly undoing what needs to be undone. Sampo probably feels the smile more than he sees it when his hand playfully slides to rest on the underside of his hip, nails grazing taunting circles onto his skin.

The fewer words they use against each other, the better. But maybe it isn't, considering just how much their bodies are doing the talking. ]

[Oh, he's always been the type to know when someone is holding something out of reach. You learn that well in business. Someone is selling the parts and leaving the rest out of the market to make quick cash. There's no real reward, here. No real value. And yet Sampo knows he's given a lot here, and yet Elysium is keeping something under lock and key.]

[And if he can help it, he will have it. In the meantime, the very idea of Oripathy and the Seaborn at their doorstep should be kept out of their minds. Elysium should only see him. Nothing but him. He is absinthe to drown the sorrows and hallucinate the joys.]

[A poison to cause madness through these physical machinations.]

[Romeo and Juliet, eat your hearts out.]

[Not that he knows who they are. Elysium and his kiss make him groan and gasp, wanting more at all costs. The fingers feel heated - is he cold blooded now? - and he tugs them both flux against one another as he asks for more with his body and biting kiss.]

[One hand detaches to be sent below to cup and rub at his sunshine through his pants - Sampo pants a little, hoping somehow his own bloodflow will rush to his head on his shoulders and make him pass out. Elysium's smile almost feels enough for that. Wouldn't that be nice?]

I won't...fly away. C'mon. Think a little better of me.

[The tip of his tail slides over the man's chest.]

Besides. I'm the guy whose belly is to the good solid dirt.

[Haha. Snake joke.]

Haha. Because I'm the one holding you down? It wasn't too long ago that you were warning me not to feed your ego. I wonder… what ever happened to that!

[ So he says while dragging a kiss to Sampo's jawline, occasionally holding skin between his teeth. At the end of the world, at least no one else's going to see you or you, yourself. When Sampo had called Elysium a bastard, he really wasn't wrong.

He heaps on his affections, whatever they are, because to him, Sampo is just that kind of guy: after he's seen everything and hollowed out all that he is, is Elysium's life itself all that special? It's not that they've changed; it's just that the situation's changed. If one last act is what's needed to ensure their play goes without a hitch, then Elysium can serve that role, easy.

If one needed any more evidence that they (Elysium) should be shut up: ]

And you say that, but I'm thinking I prefer you like this? Your back to a surface, right under me. How else would I be able to see your face? I thought about it before, during that time you told me those same words.

[ He cants his head enough that his mouth is where he'd taken that very first bite, voice dropping low. Body against body, Sampo can probably feel both the heat and hardness that's collected at Elysium's core, throbbing with unmistakable desire. The coldness of his tail does little in abating it, but it's less of a priority, and Elysium pays it no mind as his own hand shifts to wrap experimentally around Sampo's shaft. ]

… You're beautiful, Koski. [ His breath is hot, and his eyes narrow meaningfully as he pulls away no more than necessary to watch how his expression might flicker. ] How do you want me to finish you? With my hand? [ A squeeze, ] Or——my mouth?

[He could fight back. He really could. That's part of his power - to hem and haw amd act the clueless comic relief, all while being more of a force ro reckon with under the surface.]

[He could turn the tide. He could flip them over, bite over the back of his ear as vengeance for some other version in some other dimension.]

[He could. Elysium is taunting him a little, here. He's got him underneath him, after all.]

[But he doesn't.]

[He wants to be here.]

[Sure, he'll grit and snap his teeth through it all. But he's here, and he's more than happy to play the long game. Even so, the spikes of elation are exquisite. The man presses with such heat against him, and he wishes he could somehow pull him into him, let this moment last for eternity with heat that deemed to have been made long ago from either side to intertwine with one another.]

[He opens his mouth to snap something back, but the compliment is a killer move. A dagger to his heart would affect him less. A new shade of red crosses his face, but mot before his eyebrows twitch together with a low grunt. This asshole.]

Hah- [He lets out a low moan with the grip, throwing his head back with a lurch of his body into the welcome of that grip.] C-Choices, huh? How very nice of you, pal.

[A little vicious, he leans around to place a bite against the man's ear. Sunshine, hear his plea.] Hand, if only....I can see you topple over, too. I won't let you have all the fun.

[His nimble fingers move, and one shoves itself rudely down Elysium's pants to brush against the top of his member. Two can play at that game.]

[ in which i overrule sampo's choice to go with a bj so i can shut this man up. except no, that wouldn't really do anything either… they're both bad. there's no winning.

Because, wow. Although not the first time Elysium's seen a similar kind of reaction, it feels like it's been recontextualised, somehow. Unlike the other times Elysium's been made privy to what he's always assumed to be a rarer side of Sampo's, he's also no longer holding back: ]

… Pretty. [ The words escape his mouth freely, a bare whisper against Sampo's skin. In the green of his eyes, the flush of his face, and especially in the way he spitefully stares back without wanting to give up the fight. It's endearing, even. Boyish. Vaguely, Elysium wonders how else he might be able to continue eliciting the same reactions… that would be a dangerous thought in of itself if he weren't already thinking about how little he had to lose. ] But also, [ … ] petty.

[ He exhales a breathless, amused sound. That one juxtaposition of how he's seen how Sampo does have the power to hem and haw, and act the part of clueless comic relief to deflect but is that bit of vulnerable with him instead—might just be what Elysium thinks and looks back on when he considers where things might've possibly started: when, exactly, he'd started looking forward to seeing how this man might try to drown him.

Or: when he'd decided to leave his branch to see where Sampo's palm might take him, after all. Both an action and thought he'd never intended to have.

A terrible, terrible, man. But, gap is destructive as the historians surely say, and the four words right there might just be the most of any truth Elysium has revealed thus far. It isn't long though, before that pettiness he'd just complimented rears its head around, biting down hard on his own lip to muffle a hiss as he instinctively bucks to grind against Sampo's hand. Through bleary eyes, he meets Sampo defiantly—he feels too warm, his head is spinning in part from decreased oxygen, and his heart has been rabbiting for some time, but, so help him, he solidly gives Sampo a pump as his other hand slides through one of his cheeky side slits and around his body to hold him in place. ]

Let's see you— [ a pant, an audible hitch from Sampo's bite, ] try, then…!

[ He's not going to make it easy, and he'll go for their deepest kiss yet, refusing to relent until they're both left gasping for air. If Sampo breaks it, he, naturally, gives chase. ]

[Don't call me that, buddy.]

[He wants to say that. The whispered words, meant for him and him alone, are enough to drive a spike of something down his spine that sears like pain but burns like alcohol. Elysium stands, like some taunting avatar of his namesake, and Sampo hates it, hates how beautiful his eyes are framed by snow-white and blood-red hair.]

[He wants to say something, but he can't. It's too late. The man has wormed into him, made holes he doesn't know how to fix. But that's fine. That's alright. He made that decision, too, not too long ago. The sea started to hunger from the beginning. He just was unable to leave that path no matter how human he was, right?]

[He holds a bird in the hand to caress it. He holds Elysium in his hand to pull him down to his level violently.]

What a bastard you are.

[Is all he manages to say (with spite, with blunt affection), before the onslaught comes in and knocks any rational thought out the window. Elysium meets his lips, he does so in return, gasping and moaning without abandon into the innards of his mouth as his forked tongue slides in.]

[He thrusts into the man's grip with a wince, and he himself pumps the other down below aggressively, feeling victorious to finally hold the heat he craved so readily in his hands, but-]

[It's not enough. Maybe it never will be enough. To drink his fill, and never be sated. What a way to go.]

[Greedy, greedy.]

[He almost cries the other's name as a prayer, vision swimming with whites and reds. His tail squeezes him like a boa constrictor.]

Elysium-

[Please.]

Again? What a word to use on someone who's only been complimenting you. Would it make you feel better if I added that I mean everything I've said?

[ Elation: perhaps, this is the peak of Elysium's. Whereas he's heard plenty of compliments from his silver-tongued friend and has always reacted accordingly, nothing feels nearly as genuine as the two bastards that have left Elysium's eyes shining from the weight of them. He can't help but laugh, the sound bright even as it's interspersed with short, gasping breaths before they're once again locking mouths.

At the end of the world, not only will no one else see them—no one else will hear them, too, and the delightful sounds Sampo vocalises only serves to fuel Elysium's own enthusiasm.

If they achieve this climax together, how nice of a finale would that be? ]

Say it… louder… [ Against the tail crushing his chest, against his own staccato breathing, against his own self-preservation to save what little breath he has left, this one priority arises above all else: ] Please…? Sampo——

[ Not Koski like how he'd been deliberately drawing a line between them this entire time——but, Sampo.

But whether Sampo chooses to indulge his request or not, they've already well accelerated beyond the point of no return. His name, spoken with reverence. The sheer desire that permeates and pervades his every sense. He doesn't hold out much longer from there, and all he can do is fixate on the unbridled and single-minded want for them to come together, his own vision blurred blues and greens. The sun meets the sea——and as it burns through the horizon, setting its waters alight with its colours, it's time for it to drown in tandem as Elysium delivers one final thrust as he spills.

But yeah, maybe he does pass out like this, drown at sea. He'll slump into Sampo's shoulder after everything's said and done, and flutter his eyes shut as he tries to steady his breathing, much less catch his breath. ]

[Yes. Again. Over and over again. The silver tongue has been tied, and here he is, delivering something surprisingly genuine. He doesn't insult clients, as he would say. (That's a lie, he has and can will insult people, but not like this. Never like this, soaked in sweet dredged up from his well.)]

[He doesn't believe him - or rather, doesn't want to believe him. It makes things too complicated, gets his heart racing, gives him some kind of illness that feverishly flushes into his spine and through his body that he wants to purge. Elysium and his eyes shine. There's some urge to gouge them out, but he won't, can't. A view of the sun on the horizon of everything. But Elysium sees it as the end to a day. Sampo wants to think its a promise for tomorrow.]

[The man makes a request. Sampo would retort with a clear mind that he doesn't do anything for free. As if his thoughts are read, Elysium then proceeds to say his name like so - which is so demolishing, really. What a payment that is.]

[Fine, then. He hisses and gasps and feels that sunshine burn of that hand against his shaft. Sampo kisses the man, hand starting to be coated in sticky heat as he moans:]

Elysium.

[How funny, his name is so close to Elation.]

[When the name leaves his mouth is when he himself winces, feels the snap of arousal and a full-body vibration as he grinds his release into the other's solid grip. Little edges of whimpers come from his throat, and he starts to slowly calm down.]

[What a climax. Sun into sea, a brilliant sunset to burn the retinas. But the sun will rise again. He shouldn't have all of it here and now.]

[His free hand slides into vivid white hair as he tries to find the pair of his lips to kiss. Sampo holds him against him like a vice, not wanting to let go. Not just yet. His tail detaches, mercifully, slapping down tiredly onto the floor.]

You're...really something, you know that, Elysium...?

Edited (dont tag mobile kids) 2024-06-10 04:56 (UTC)

[ 'Elysium.' The way in which Sampo utters it as he reaches his crescendo makes it a tenet that almost has Elysium wishing it were something else. A long distant name, maybe, in the delirium of their high.

But, no. The moment passes. Elysium hopes it never comes again. He hopes it does.

A convenient distraction, then, in the withdrawal of his tail, a low whine protesting it despite breathing being made significantly easier. ]

So I've been told. … You have to be quite something yourself to be able to keep up.

[ Apt: Sampo chases after another kiss, but Elysium has something else in mind. Even in the afterglow, there's hardly a moment to rest; he pretends he doesn't see it, evades it if he has to with a slight duck of his head. All with that same annoyingly confident expression on his face that suggests he has a better idea.

Sure, he has no tail. But he does have the arms to wrap around Sampo's waist, lifting him up just enough with a fair bit of strain. He isn't trying to make some sweeping gesture here, and the intent: to flip their positions, splaying himself on the table to wrap his legs where his arms had previously been around Sampo to keep their bodies pressed together. They're sticky. They're messy. Nothing of their surroundings nor the heady scent in the air wouldn't be a constant reminder of their debauchery, and yet, Elysium couldn't care less at the moment, freely threading his hands behind Sampo's neck to draw him back in.

Just because the sun has started to set, it remains unrelenting until it's well beneath the waves. ]

What do you think? [ A pure and devilish grin all in one; the grin of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, felt as he presses their foreheads together. If Sampo still wants his kiss? He'll have to take it. ] … It wouldn't have been fair if I was the only one who got to see the view. It's rather nice, isn't it? I'd go as far as to say you won't get any better.

[ The sun might rise again, but will it ever be the same one? ]

[Elysium ducks the kiss. It makes his own eyebrows come together, displeased. Even in the here and now, with bodies overheated, he still can't quite stomach the taste of his own medicine.]

[He's about to say something, maybe some petty remark about that obnoxious grin, when his world shifts. It twists around, disorienting, and he's now the one on his feet, leaning over the willing and ready.]

[Elysium might be underneath him, but it feels like he's lost some control here. How wonderful. Forehead against forehead, Sampo lets himself settle with a steely, challenging look of turquoise. One hand buries itself into Elysium's hair, holding him steady. The crimson almost looks like a bloodstain over his fingers.]

I oughta wipe that grin off your face. You should be lucky my job is the opposite. [A little pause, almost confused - why would it be? Did he use to do something? Probably not. He sighs into the other's cheek. His forked tongue flicks out to taste himself on the man's lips. Salty. Lingering. He wishes he could burn himself onto this sunken sunshine instead. The ocean doesn't fill up when the sun descends. It just makes itself more aware of its loneliness and emptiness. ] You're so lucky you're so cute.

[He needs a little more time here to recover, but that doesn't mean he hates this, either. Sampo sighs, flexing and shifting his weight to let those legs truly wrap around him. His own tail waves back and forth before sliding up to rest against the outline of the other's body.]

Don't challenge me. Else I won't give you anything you want.

[A little peck on the cheek, another over the neck, sucking into the fine skin. But he will hold himself firm, with hand carressing through the man's hair. One could almost describe it as affectionate. Almost.]

Greedy, greedy.

[Say the greediest of them all.]

Were you ever planning to? [ Give Elysium what he wants. Give anyone want they wanted, for that matter, if it didn't align with his own goals in some way. But Elysium could say the same for himself, couldn't he? That he was hardly a selfless man, exemplified by how there was no way to justify his actions in the past hour. Perhaps, that's why the world decided to put the two of them together. A selfish sun that dreams of becoming a supernova, to a selfish sea that wants to rise to pluck the stars, or a certain star, from the sky. Both impossibilities. Both things they're trying to accomplish despite themselves.

Ironically, the intimacy of the moment threatens to squeeze out more air than Sampo's tail ever did—the tickle of his tongue, the wraparound, the pecks—they're all exceedingly tender, leaving a quiet hitch in Elysium's throat that he'll try to pass off as a laugh. His own tactics used against him, however intentional or not; the uncertainty is enough to fill his lungs with cold water. ] … Sorry, sorry. I'll stop teasing you now. Maybe you're the one who should reconsider how irresistible you are.

[ Learning further: ] Thanks for the moment, ——…

[ Whispered words that remain unsaid, pressed to his ear as a secret between the two of them; Sampo can decide for himself which of the two syllable monikers he's decided to use, because Elysium's quick to pull away after, reluctantly unwinding his legs from Sampo's body. Weeks of imagining what it might be like to indulge in bodily contact might not be all that much in the grand scheme of things, but the encounter hadn't nearly been enough to satiate everything he'd wanted to do. His body protests it, and yet.

And yet. He convinces himself that it's enough. Their play of lovers—a true five star performance, no? ]

Let's get ourselves cleaned up. Shall we?

[ A fond ruffle of Sampo's hair, as seems to have become their routine the few times they've parted in a distant past. In other words: Elysium is running. ]

[He never was planning to. Was he?]

[Earlier, it might have been easy to say "no". How easy it is to dance outside of someone's grasp. He never actually planned to be caught, and like a snake in a trap, there's a part of him that wants to lash out. He can't even understand why. The venom in him is something he's shuffled away, disguised under tricks and tomfoolery, and when he tastes it again he wonders if he's actually as immune to himself as much as he thought.]

[He swallows as the man leans in - his diamond eyes turn into vivid slits, not unlike that time they had in some bar far far away, when it was a game, when it was fun, when they were merely standing on the shore and not halfway in the water. Sampo? Koski? Which one was it? Does it matter? Isn't it all a ruse to begin with?]

[The man pulls back. He stands there for a moment. The heat. He misses the heat, cold-blooded. His mind is telling him that he should be clapping the man on the back and internally thanking him for the good solid logic of stopping before it gets worse.]

[What a good play. They're such good actors. It's acting, of course it is, that makes him slide his hands around the other's waist. He dips him, like a dance, not waiting for protest. For a moment, he holds him, eyes fixed in eyes with his own as sharp as his fangs. Don't you want to indulge? Don't you see how much I hate you for this? Do you feel the same way as me? Don't you want me to trap you? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?]

[He steals a kiss, like it's the last kiss he'll ever have in his life.]

[And then he's shifted them back up, let out a laugh, and everything is buried, like it always is and always will be.]

Thanks for the moment, Elysium.

[Don't run.]

[Parroted words right back, before he gives a little casual gestures, and moves towards where he saw a bathroom in this place. If Elysium wants to follow, that's his decision.]

[ How fitting. A first dance that starts at its coda; a dance that's meant to leave one yearning for the what if. The prelude of it they both know, from that time both long and not long ago, but the midsection is missing——asking, begging, to be filled. When he catches Sampo's gaze with his own, the answer lies in his placid smile. A curious thought arises, then: if they'd gotten their roles mixed up all along. The burn of Sampo's irritation—the crackling of a flame that's barely contained within itself—it is tempting to see what it could be as wildfire.

Just a game, was it? Until it wasn't any longer and they found themselves in over their heads. But, it isn't too late, his reciprocation in the form of a mere press of his lips back—a ghost of one, as the moment's already been neatly tied up with a bow.

A first dance. But also, a last one. And so, Elysium won't do much else aside from follow Sampo with his eyes before he's back to looking out the window. If at some point he traces along the lines of his mouth, well.

The real answer: he does.

The next day takes them back on the road. The next few days after that, too. Perhaps unsettlingly, there are far more Seaborn lurking about than during their initial journey. It's a bit much, but it's nothing Elysium can't handle; constantly having to recalibrate their path is grounds enough for keeping more to himself, and it serves as a convenient excuse as he aggravates the Originium in his body. Still, he's far from aloof. The tail continues to be his emotional support tail, even if he's no longer finding every excuse and only every other one under the sun to grab hold of it……

And aside from the occasional cough? Not-so occasional cough when he thinks he's alone? There's nothing too alarming, at least, on that front. Sure, the crystals on his body have begun spreading again, winding around his wrist like a shackle of a reminder, and the same row that had only gone up to his abdomen is now as high as his chest—but that's nothing Sampo should see. On the fifth day: ]

Give me space. I'm serious. [ He's smiling, but his eyes are narrowed in warning. ] Unless you want to be collateral damage, keep your distance until I tell you it's clear. It might tip off some of the nearby Seaborn, so… Worst case, get ready to book it in that direction [ he points ] and go straight ahead. If nothing else? You should be able to find safe passage in Laterano. ——Take this with you. I've made an entire report on the situation.

[ he throws it. it's a recording device. this may or may not sound like a simple message to hq ]

[Maybe a snake is always fated to eat his own tail.]

[Well, maybe that's just him being superfluous with the imagery. It's something to attach to the growing gnawing feeling inside of him, threatening to choke him if he doesn't keep tamping it down. A singular moment on stage, and now he has to sit with his own thoughts, looking at a man he knows will do everything to get off of it. How uncomfortable. How nauseating.]

[Elysium sits with him sometimes, brushes over his tail like he's done tons of times before, but something has shifted, hasn't it? Those coughs he does his best to hide. Sampo Koski, as much as he would like to act it, isn't stupid. The knowledge of Oripathy in his head gives him insight into things that he would really would like not to know. He uses the distraction of the Seaborn to keep himself from piping up, but maybe that's just adding fuel to the fire here.]

[At the end of the world, will the sea burn? He doesn't know if he wants to see it, feel it, become it.]

[(The dreams are back again. He's yanking tied colored pieces of cloth like flocks of butterflies out of his own abdomen, pulling and pulling, but there's no end. A typical clown trick. The joke is that there's too much inside of him, ill-fitting and deserving to be spit out. Something laughs. It doesn't sound like its laughing with him. It's tempting, honestly. Maybe he should give himself over to that laughter, and be the one laughing with Elysium at the end, pursue that elation no matter that cost.)]

[On the fifth day, Elysium tells him this, throws him a device. Sampo smiles, as he always does, glancing to the device and back to Elysium.]

[He lets out a little huff.]

Collateral damage, huh. [And very lightly, very casually:] I don't think becoming a bomb will look good on you, friend. And I know bombs.

[ Well. Elysium can't say he didn't expect some sort of push back. He smiles back, too——as he also always does, matching Sampo's tone. ]

I could say the same for something else. Except, there's nothing to think about; sentimentality really doesn't suit you, bro.

[ A little incentive, then: Sampo's ears will start ringing. Every moment he spends lingering, the sensation intensifies until it culminates into a migraine. It could get worse, it could get better. Evidently, the source of it is from Elysium himself, even if his expression remains unchanged. ]

Oh, you know me so well, pal! Haha.

[It isn't sentimental at all.]

[How can there be anything like that? This needling like a thorn under the skin he seeks to dislodge - how funny! Sentimentality! Such a stupid, stupid word.]

[The ringing starts. Sampo's smile only falls for a brief, mild second, but he's back to it again, with an intensity that's like a sharp knife.]

[So he wants to play games, huh. Sampo moves. He steps forward.]

....You should eat your own words. Doesn't fit you, either.

[And with no warning whatsoever, he socks the man right in the gut.]

[ pvp might've been somewhere on the agenda, but that's a quick escalation if he's ever seen one—so, taking the full brunt of the blow it is, eyes widening for the fraction of a second as he staggers back from it. ]

… Seriously, man? You want to do this right now?

[ To his credit, Elysium doesn't rile. Once he regains his bearings, he levels an unimpressed stare in return, arm wrapped around his stomach. ]

I didn't think you were this easy. Were a few words and a handjob all you needed to get attached? C'mon. Be real.

[ Louder ringing, another cough and gasp for breath. Not how he'd anticipated this would go, but it technically serves his purpose still. ]

Sure! I've been bored. Seaborn doesn't just do it for me, anymore. Ol' Sampo wants a better use of his time.

[The ringing might be aggravating, but its only serving to make him see more red. The words, too, don't help. His tail wraps around the other's ankle to yank and pull him to fall back onto the floor.]

You really gotta stop with such funny words, birdie. I'm not that attached to ya. You're the one trying to save my life by sending me away, aren't you?

[He's launching another fist at him.]

You can't make decisions for me. Did you think I was your ever loyal pet there, buddy? Think again.

[ Leveraging his tail to his benefit now instead of it being an active detriment, wow. Elysium would be amused if he weren't on the receiving end of it, more occupied with bracing his fall. ]

So you want to go down together, then? I didn't take you for such a romantic, either.

[ He could attempt to dodge with a roll, but he opts to catch Sampo's fist, all to scoff from directly under him. His sleeves slide down from gravity—Sampo will be able to see now for himself how his condition's worsened. ]

If it isn't attachment, what is it? Pragmatically, you have better odds out there worst case scenario. I'd be done the moment I ran out of suppressants.

"Sampo Koski never lets friends who helped him come to harm".

[He recites, like he's reading some internal rulebook he's had stashed away from years. His fist is caught, and he simply smiles at the crystals that dot the man's skin like stars.]

It's just business policy. So far, nobody else out here has offered up a better alternative. And you want more reasons? I don't know the way outta here. You need to guide me out. "Get ready to book it in that direction"? Might as well sign my death warrant. [And then, a bold-faced laugh.] Besides, who said your way was the highway, here? You couldn't even involve me? You really are stupid!

Edited 2024-06-12 18:47 (UTC)

You asked me what I thought our odds were way back, right?

[ Gradually, Elyisum lowers Sampo's fist to the ground. Then, he tries to sit himself up——and throws his own fist towards Sampo's face with a smile.

Get off him, please. ]

Zero! I'm telling you, I'm not in the habit of being pessimistic. At least with a distraction, you should be able to slip past just fine. Stop making yourself sound like some damsel in distress. We both know you're more capable than that.

[The fist lands. He staggers back, but his mood doesn't seem to be abate here, smiling as if he's found his way into a cute little party instead of fighting with a man on death's door.]

Whoo! What a punch. [He's rubbing at his nose and cheek, heaving a dramatic little sigh.] So, you're okay with me walking out here, right? Gonna leave me to the wild unknown while you provide the "distraction"? Alright.

[He's starting to just. Walk away?]

Yup. Better a chance than none at all. Thanks for the opening, my friend. Join me too soon and I'll be disappointed.

[ And he can see just what Elysium had meant when he'd said to keep his distance—or feel, rather, from another tangible shift in the atmosphere. Another cough, this time to dislodge blood. But unless Sampo would also like to start bleeding from his ears, he won't exactly be able to get close anymore.

There's no rise in temperature as Elysium is just genuinely using his arts—if he can get a transmission to HQ, all the better during the process, but the intent had never been to establish communication.

From the horizon, out pops a single drifter. Fun. ]

[There's something called a feint. Like a magic trick. You say you'll do one thing. You do another.]

[The shift in atmosphere is disorienting. It doesn't stop him from unhooking the daggers from his belts, clicking their ends together, watching blearily as whatever the fuck that is pops out in the distance. Great. Good end times, here. He feels a little feverish. Are those bells in the distance?]

[He gives a little wave over his shoulder.]

And that's my cue. Let's go, birdie.

[Not "see ya". Not "goodbye".]

[He twists, throws his weapon like a javelin, which courses through the air like a boomerang.]

[He's aiming the solid part of it at Elysium's head.]

[Get knocked out, idiot.]

[ The glaring problem with this plan had always been the concentration needed to channel such a faraway transmission, and whether he'd manage to get the opening to do it. Coupled with the dull ache from Sampo's previous punch and the Originium in his body coming alive to heed his call, there's little he can do but watch as the dagger flies towards him.

No, that isn't quite right. He could minimise the impact. Not avoid it entirely, but at least shift to either side. The part of him that wants to indulge, that feels a way he refuses to express, that still wants to see what lays exactly behind "Sampo Koski," and that's the final distraction needed to prevent him from doing so, the hilt striking precisely where it'd been intended.

His last thought before blacking out:

Fuck, Koski. ]

(crystal voice) we only have ourselves to blame

wow im actually innocent in all this i just play a silly guy

most definitely nsfw now... it looks like this but i'm the innocent

i blame ly for everything

yeah i godmodded ban me (free me)

no. free me first

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject