( 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.

Comments

[transmit]

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. ]

[lovebombing]

[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?

[transmit]

[ 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.

[lovebombing]

[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.]

[transmit]

[ 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?

1/2 cw: body horror

[lovebombing]

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.

2/2

[lovebombing]

[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!