synflux | ( closed ) life like the unplumbed sea;

[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. ]

[The sea is calm.]

[Whenever Elysium comes to, he'll find himself resting on the sands of the beach, the grains of it brushed again his clothes and face. The wind is gentle, like a lover. Here, there's no strife. There's no chaos.]

[The man known as "Sampo Koski" is sitting and singing a small tune lightly under his breath nearby, dull green eyes fixed on the horizon.]

[The sky is gray, and it feels like a storm is coming. But not yet.]

.....Hm? [Oh, someone's awake.] Wake up, sleepyhead.

[ How nice would it be if they could spend the rest of their days like this? The sea is calm, the waves roll in tandem with his breathing. The sound of Sampo's voice is more comforting than he'd ever want to admit.

It's not as if he's been trying hide that he's woken up, he just doesn't want to disturb the moment, only blinking his eyes open once song has finished its course. ]

… Just because you've stopped me, it doesn't mean that the inevitable won't happen. We've got special rooms for body disposal back at Rhodes Island for a reason, you know. But until then, I guess you're stuck with me.

[ In return, another song, after which Elysium closes his eyes again. He looks wistful. It's some kind of promise, he exhales a quiet sigh. ]

I'm going back to sleep.

A lotta people talk a big talk about "inevitable". Things are more complicated than that. The world is always going to be a big chaotic place.

[Not that he doesn't exactly believe in destiny. Maybe its more like a "carpe diem" sort of thing. Day by day. There's an elation in not knowing what comes next.]

[He falls silent at the song. After it ends, he softly echoes, with his own voice:]

Maybe I'm a fool to be singing the choruses of old
Maybe I'm a fool to be thinking their promises are true
Ooh, you can call me what you want
'Cause when all is said and done
The better days will come.

[And then he's reaching over to ruffle over Elysium's hair.]

And how long are you going to sleep?

Until it's well after high tide?

[ Another laugh. His eyes remain closed, but he cants his head a fraction of a unit closer to Sampo's hand. ]

So what's the plan, buddy? Or are we rolling with no plan at all? [ Quietly: ] … Honestly, that's probably just as fine.

Maybe it's better to drown.

[Said the sea to the sun.]

Ah.....erm................ [Yeah, he's looking a little sheepish.] I didn't think this far, honestly. Sometimes you plan. Sometimes you just....think on your feet.

With you by my side, perhaps so.

[ Their golden age will come, will it?

But bringing them by the sea on the advent of an apocalypse caused by the sea, huh? That's certainly a choice. Calm as it looks, it'd do them better not to underestimate it. It happens in all of several seconds—something bubbles from underneath the surface of it, Elysium's eyes rip wide open, and the next thing they'll know, he'll have rolled over in front of Sampo, a pincer latched onto his arm, just before his elbow with a vice grip.

Evidently, his arm isn't going to hold. It isn't made of the steel of his sword, after all. ]

… To drown together, or to do more of thinking on your feet, friend?

[ He wears a grimace. He wears a smile. This isn't exactly the time for talking, but if there's one thing that's clear—he's leaving this battle to Sampo's jurisdiction. ]

Well.

[Perhaps the only brief glimmer of dissatisfaction and surprise is the only thing that warns the man before its painted over with a nice smile.]

[Sampo pulls out his daggers, the vivid purple of it swinging in air to try its best to cut the pincer off at its joint, even if its left on Elysium's arm. Sorry, bro. Might have a crab claw accessory. His other hand is trying to pull the man back.]

Maybe both? Ehehe.

[ sure, leave a part of a creature with corrosion mechanics whose sole purpose is to assimilate hanging off his arm indefinitely

that will go well

Not that either of them are really thinking about it, when the Seaborn howls loud enough to almost deafen from its amputated limb. It staggers for all of several seconds before out pops another pincer from the same joint. From the sea, the surface begins bubbling again—backup, presumably, Elysium's own head spinning from the pain of having a claw that's buried bone deep.

Despite that, he manages to point out a direction with the same hand through grit teeth, unsheathing his sword with the other. ]

If you want to run——we'll have to go that way.

[ at some point, he'd managed to calibrate himself?? ]

Mm.

[Of course, realization comes a little too late - but there's nothing for it, now. Not like amputating Elysium's arm will lead to something good, either - he doesn't think he'll be able to tolerate the blood loss with how weak he already is.]

[Sure, they'll run. Even though he played clueless before, deep down, carrying Elysium to the beach - it was a signed end to this chapter, wasn't it?]

[If only he could make that end a little quieter than this.]

Let's go, birdie. I'll cover you, free of cost. Just because you're such a good client. [He's yanking him, pushing him forward.] Go. I'll follow.

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