Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

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 You Keep All The Memories In Your Heart, @Evan | March 2016
Apr 6 2017, 03:53 PM
121
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39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
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Mal/Kai

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Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Malakai jabbed a finger in his direction and commanded in crisp chatter, “You’d be wise not to touch that. I assure you, scraping your brains off the wall is the last on my priority list.”

It hadn’t even made the list.

He waltzed past Evan and holed himself up in his room like a hermit. Folding himself down on the ground, he hunched his frame over something on the floor that he did have every option of holding up against the stubborn, dying light of a late Spring day, and that he also could have managed while seated at a desk, but which he just was not managing that way. He hunched over it on the ground and pieced together a secret message like he were a detective on a case. Handling several paper clippings like jigsaw pieces, he glued them to varying parts of a little notice board in midst of making, as though to build a message, its center left vacant. He’d fill it eventually. Permit it to exist with the mystery that awaited its pinning.

All in due time, he argued with no-one.

The early November day was ending, and the natural sunlight he’d permitted to stream through was thinning. He glanced up in a cursory manner, damning its building absence, but ultimately nonchalant as it departed. When the light halved, he got up from the floor and turned on the artificial kind. It swathed his notice board white. Tinkering for the next two hours, he didn’t think to explain a single word to the man he’d warned against touching some random, metallic contraption he’d left stood in the center of their kitchen table like the fucking cornucopia, of all the things in the world. But one that brought no abundance of riches but a few well-earned queries. He didn’t think about him.

The last few weeks of shared cohabitation had been going rather well, if you asked Malakai. For example, he didn’t recall Evan entering into his room once, which was dearly appreciated. The notice board had been a WIP for a while, and he had all manner of things scattered around himself, papers and little concerning pieces he named unworth of explaining. Organized chaos did put it well in his case, but he really hadn’t forbidden access here out of some notion of shame his flatmate should waggle his finger and look disappointed. That blue-eyed handsome devil was welcome to go fuck himself. And moving on from that, Malakai just wanted no questions. Why is the notice board there? Why are the cropped pictures of all those men pinned to it? Why are you collecting pictures of the SF underground, Malakai?

Pokemon wasn’t just for kids, fuck off.


They lived in peace as long as they didn’t talk to each other.

Malakai paused, and looked up. His room really was nothing special. A wardrobe, a bed pushed far into the wall, a desk to work at and of course his bedroll by the bed on the floor, used about as frequently as the bed itself. Which was to say-- it simply wasn’t. But he looked at the wardrobe once more, remembering that when you peered into its dark contents it was revealed to be more akin to a little altar he’d dressed as a wardrobe. Irony was also his favorite.

Filled with mementos of a Dead Man, the wardrobe was nothing you wanted to look into after the first encounter, the little altar carved with every intent to preserve something important. Even looking at it felt like walking in on something very intimate, and Malakai hypnotized the spot, as though he expected the object to swing its wooden doors wide open, and reveal its bowels. It wasn’t a wardrobe, in that sense. But he liked that it appeared like it was. His lips twitched.

With haste, Malakai up and stood from his spot, walking out of his room with a hard swing of his door like he were a madman pursuing some escaping murderer. Out onto the man living area, Malakai paused, and looked around.

All this looked so very nuclear. He couldn’t well look at the TV standing in the center of the living like the most important feature of it. He didn’t recall the last time he’d watch it, and didn’t imagine himself ever preferring its brainwashing film to the joy of reading. Piecing together information and finding needles in haystacks was much more fun than hours looking at an object he’d never gotten to the hang of. But there it was, along with all the other furniture pieces that made Malakai’s skin scrawl. He looked around himself and at the affronting mundanity of his home and shuddered, drawling, “Drapes, next thing I know we’ll be getting a dog. Hmm, I don't even have a casserole dish.” It crooked his lips as well.

Disgusted, he walked into the kitchen. And there he saw Evan.

Malakai paused.

Hands at his back, and chest out, Malakai looked at his flatmate of several weeks, and in a clear-cut, rambling monotone, he haughtily talked, “I see you’re doing well. Your brains are still safely in your skull. Very promising. It might appear you won’t run like the previous ones.”

He rocked himself on the balls of his feet, and then swung his arm around in some celebratory gesture of another survived day, before inviting himself in the spaces with a cold and courteous, “Now if you’ll excuse me”, and then he was at the fridge in another quick stride, and opening the fridge.

He slammed it shut next.

“What are you doing?”

Without ado, and not about to wait to be answered, Malakai traveled by the man’s side again, at once pulling a chair for himself until he sat at the table with his cornucopia wannabe contraption. He peered close, his lips open in an ‘o’.

“Interesting.”

Then he straightened, and strongly informed Evan, a certain hurry in his accented tone, “I see you’re not just a pretty face that many a woman would beg to bed, if not men too, myself included. You have skill too, at least if my eyes don’t deceive me. If you happen to enjoy sparring too, we might have just found perfection.”

And with that, proud and expecting shared enthusiasm over this realization, Malakai smiled.

--------------------
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Apr 6 2017, 11:29 PM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

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Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
He never came in as anything less than a tornado, mini perhaps, small and non-disastrous as it wafted over a field and skipped all the houses, but a tornado none the less. Evan watched him, as he always did, swept himself in with some promise of brains on walls and was off again. His tone precise and lilted over in an accent posh would tug some soft machination of a smile across his face. Evan might not have called him a robot, a harsh sort of title for anyone who knew what true robotics looked like in a man, but his tone held an edge to it that would remind the wolf of such inclinations. Its underlying current almost manic in its shuffling forward to see it all spat out on the ground before he whisked himself off to do whatever it was he did when he sat on the floor surrounded by his chaos.

Evan's skin crawled at the thought of it.

Chaos.

He'd never traipse within, wasn't his place just as Kai never saw fit to randomly meander into his own feet into a room that sat in every mention of array (that he was aware of). Everything in its place it looked so unlived in it was almost comical that someone did. They kept to themselves, quietly and without the rubbings that would see personalities flair and pit against one another. Still, this existence wasn't unfriendly but quite the opposite, they fit or so Evan would have attested too after his numerous roommates over the last dozen years. Not so much in anyway other than their ability to cohabitate the same four walls for weeks without so much as a hint of issue. A product of their inner workings maybe, or simply they hadn't spent time enough together.

Evan's attention would settle with him on the kitchen table, this metal monstrosity left behind that might in fact see his brains from his head, left as it was. Curious? Of course. Respectful? Absolutely. And so it would remain just as his work would, off to the side and carefully sequestered before him. The delicate inner workings of the old watch exposed with the use of the tiniest screwdriver he'd likely ever handle in the steadiest hands of a man who stitched together smaller things than screws. It was delicate work but he knew the insides of this pocket watch as well as he knew that of himself. All tarnished and needing of a good scraping to see its rust gone before it built up to extraordinary levels.

It wasn't his favorite project but it was a reoccurring one, such was the nature of a timepiece used for too long, its cogs and springs worn too thin too quickly. Its make was nothing special and nor was its craftsmanship but it was his, as was not stated by the name engraved upon its slipped off rear plate. McAlister. Was his regardless. Thoughts interrupted by the soft emerging of the other from the confines of his hole were noted as were his movements through the house, quiet as he was there was no shifter grace to slide him through the rooms silently. His mutterings would filter into the same sensitive ears, quirking the wolf's mouth a bit as tweezers saw to the extractions of bronze parts, each one laid on a white paper towel as to not lose them to the tiled floor.

Malakai's presence is noted in the door though Evan's focus rested solely on the removal of the delicate plates of the watch, all notched to fit together snugly. A brow would rise, tweezers paused as they lifted free of the watch, grasping hold of a notched cog. "Others not too keen on the promise of their brains on the walls, eh? Surely, can't imagine why," the corner of his mouth would hitch lightly into a ghosted smile before attention falls back to the task at hand. How many had come before? How many had been chased off by the eccentric workings of a man roving these halls as a tornado of bits and pieces?

Evan could really only guess wildly for now.

Everything around him was lost as he shifted the final plate to get to the rusted old spring he was seeking. Hot breath too close would flicker his gaze to their corners to peer at the man peering at his work. Seated beside and seemingly contented in his sudden curiosity. To say it didn't tickle some part of Evan would have been a lie, like opening a chest to some array of beating inner mechanisms he'd expect such curiosity from himself, to see it from someone else so mortal was refreshing. So often was it a notion declared dead and gone in today's society, and its need for instant gratification. And then what? what did you do with all the time you have left afterward?

"I wouldn't go so far as beg, implies difficulty where there ought not to be," the soft of his lightly accented voice would wane in its drawled state as his concentration lifted the old spring, a piece he'd press between his fingers too hard in examination. It's tensile strength wavering before its rust gave way and disintegrated. Dropping the pieces on the paper towel his gaze would flicker sideways. Face warm and quiet. "My sparring days are sadly long gone, Malakai," a white lie as they'd never really begun to begin with. "I might be persuaded to pick up the mantle again though, for the sake of perfection if nothing else.

"Might."


A small wire bristled brush would see the painstaking process of removing rust started next. Inner working jostled a bit though he'd long since memorized where things went. "I do have a dog, if you're keen on a third moping about. Can't help ya with a casserole dish though."

He'd pause his working a moment to ponder over Malakai's face, over his smile and ease of it before it was permitted to falter. His own expression gentled and calm in its staring back.

"How many?"

A brow lifted gently, his smile as soft as his voice.

"How many have opposed gray matter as the new wall color?"

Curiosity in return for curiosity.

"Ya know, it's not nearly as pink as they tell in the movies,"

A mumble as his gaze flickers back to the watch and its need for brushing.

--------------------
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Apr 7 2017, 02:49 AM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
bisexual
smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

awards

beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
His lips curled. “No, it’s almost like the good ol’ traditional act of passing away isn’t to everyone’s liking.”

Shame.

The watch attracted him. Splayed out in front of the man Kai had formulated no opinion on, it attracted only the sort of minds that Malakai would fondly call: above. He was above the others' intellect, a wry, and sorry fact he’d observed people responding to with offended dismay, but a pig, fed grits or meats, was still a pig. He may opt out of telling them the truth but it didn’t change that pink was pink and the grass green. But no matter, he digressed.

Back on the topic, he stood at the dining table, having elected its other side to sit at as in to put a modicum of distance between them. He would defend he didn’t struggle with male on male proxy, but unless in sparring or sex, there was no need for it. And thus, seated at the long side of it, and Evan at the short, he leaned over the table with the evident desire to sit where Evan sat and do what he did. The neat little screwdriver in Evan’s hand was looking that much smaller when compared to the size of the man-- he was by no means formidable, Kai would defend, and at the same hardly appeared short. He had a largeness to him, though Malakai was loathe to say such a sentence. It hardly described anything, he was certain, a pure nod to the human love for the abstract which he’d never understood, and wouldn’t for however long he lived on.

But there it was, bitterly even in his thoughts like some parasite he’d maybe let slip in that one time two weeks ago when he’d stupidly paused to watch some commercial with puppies and African starving children. How marvelous, perhaps man would realize one day that one soul-searching journeys to African countries were not needed if it was starved children they wanted. He digressed once more, and snapped himself back, drawling in an unimpressed tone as he glanced up at the shifter--

“You jest. How adorable. I’m afraid I do not have patience for cute, and playful banter.” He quirked one brow, wry in the look he gave him. “Did you just describe yourself as slutty? Interesting.”

Also no, not really. He waved off the promise of a changed mind, perhaps because he didn’t care about the notion.

“I’m not attached,” he replied briskly, and clucked his tongue. Dismissed the issue, fonder of the watch Evan tinkered with. If he could run off with that screwdriver, that’d be great. Perhaps he was in possession of one so similar, but there was always shortage of reliably, trusty tools. Malakai ran that thought over in his mind, certain he got it right, and then he glanced up at Evan again, noting--

“Never mind the exact number. Too little to have any hope for humanity. You have a penchant for banter,” he drawled, wry. A touch of curiosity traced his tone. His upside down smile sat firmly on his face. “Have you considered putting your mouth to a better use? If this continues I might have to. Hmm, we could consider sex.”

Straightening, he motioned at Evan, spreading his arm out and then laying it back on the table between them, his tone unforgivingly curt and hurried, “You have named yourself a slut after all. I am not one to see offers where they’re none, but I see you enjoy your chatter. It’s friendly. It’s nice. It’s good.

“Don’t do it again.”


Up on his feet, he was back with the fridge again, swinging its door open and diving confidently for an object inside. The carton of soy milk, so pale to his tan, looked almost ridiculous, and yet Malakai stood at the fridge with his hip out, and a frank, no-nonsense gaze focused on his flat-mate. Practically, he explained himself:

“We’re not here to make friends. We’re here to cohabit. I strongly advise you not to use your Neighbor sweetheart charms on me again. I’m not a maiden wanting to be swept off her feet as you climb into my chamber late in the night. But I am interested in furthering our cohabitation to the best of our available abilities. What do you say we begin having sex? We’re similar in heights, and your build looks conducive to very bendy and ravenous sex. I myself am sufficiently experienced in the act of coitus.”


He motioned at Evan with his milk, serious, and chatty.

“What do you say?”

--------------------
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Apr 7 2017, 04:26 AM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

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halcyon heart
Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Evan's chuckle was low and quieted as he mused over Malakai's words. Funny how that was, people and their ability to object to the thought of death. The crisp manner in which he spoke gave no room to doubt that the other found some manner of this thought process fallible. Evan had no real love or hate for the subject, it was like so many others in this world; it just was, and while he could have written odes to the loathe over it, he'd not. People died, a fact of life, though typically speaking it wasn't at a kitchen table assaulted suddenly by some metal contraption that patterned them against the walls.

There was very little attention paid to the space Malakai chose to inhabit, unperturbed as to where he placed himself at all, used to the hover and the strong bearing of others looming about, physically or figuratively. His work would continue undisturbed was the point, worked seemingly tirelessly to shift the wire bristled thing into the groove from which the old rusted spring had been pulled from. Flaked it of its rust and found some satisfaction that hearkened back to his need for these little things, tasks seemingly too small for hands his size. The frustration that came with repeat failure rarely flustered the wolf, allowed him the opportunity to pour focus into the repeating until it was righted, distracted continuously. In this moment he pried off gunk and it satisfied some part of him that likened this watch to himself. Scraped himself clean for the betterment of his own character. That's not at all how the human psyche was fixed and he knew it well enough but that didn't stop him from the association.

Old habits.

"Hmm, I'd not go quite that far either,"

His words were distracted, his focus pooled on a finite point as brush is extracted and a soft tilt sees the flakes left behind to the corner of the paper towel beside him. Just as meticulous in his cleanliness as he was his organization. "But if you insist--" attention wavers, drifting to the side to peer at the other a moment. His fact stated simply and without ado. He was apparently unattached, Evan peered at him a long moment before the corner of his mouth crooked in a soft lopsided smile. He couldn't begin to imagine why. The sarcasm in his head was far too sharp and ill begotten his tongue, would never make it that far as he returned to his watch.

The wolf would hum once more. "Do I?" He sounded skeptical over it though his tone was also some hand wave to see the question whisked away without need to answer. He'd never describe himself as a conversationalist but neither would he consider himself difficult, the same could be said for this subject of sex Malakai seemed to latch himself to like babe to tit. "I suppose we could, I'm also without attachment," his tone was easy and agreeing though it clung to the soft cadence of amusement, as if this subject verged on jest. An almost. Though the ring sat on his left hand begged to differ, he'd not remember its presence anymore than he could have told you the color of their rug at the front door.

"I'd not paint myself so black and white," his quiet smile would shift to dimple a cheek as the man, he'd entitle a curiosity, beside him lifted himself to wander back to the fridge with a quiet quip. Evan would continue, as unperturbed over this as he was over the other's presence or proximity. "It's not a title I'd choose for myself, slut but neither is it inherently wrong. Perhaps...," he'd pause a moment, thoughtful. "Perhaps better, a man who doesn't often shirk an opportunity of interest." He'd not toss himself into every bed that was offered, neither would he turn every of them down.

His work would pause momentarily as he sat with brush in hand and watch before him, peered at Malakai as he stood at the fridge and spoke with his milk in hand. Evan's chuckle would return, that low amused thing as he leaned an elbow lightly on the surface of the table. "I'm not entirely sure how you think sex will better cohabitation, typically speaking it muddies," not always but it usually came with feelings and that was the issue that dragged mud all over the rug. His shoulder would shrug lightly as he swiveled himself back to continue his cleaning away of decades of rust.

"But as I've already been named, I should probably keep in line, aye?"

Amusement would paint his tone once more as he continued his work, focus narrowing once more.

"I can't say I'm against it, even if I do prefer people who own casserole dishes."

A jest once more though his voice was too lost in focus to paint it as anything but a drawled murmur. Perhaps not against but clearly not chomping at any proverbial bit either as he sat there calm and poured over his watch like it were this mechanical contraption that would see him to an end that slept him better than most nights.

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 7 2017, 05:16 AM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
bisexual
smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

awards

beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
He was also without attachment. Malakai’s brows rose. Something told him his intent had been dearly misunderstood, but suppose the confirmation of Evan’s lacking romantic entanglement did make Malakai’s later offer that much likely to succeed. If he had to make a rough estimate (he hated to; numbers didn’t do well with guesses; their hard, cold charm lay in their detachment from the abstract), it had increased his chances of success roughly by thirty percent, which was discounting the presence of a jilted lover or related guilt from cheating. Good. It certainly hampered things a bit if one party did not want sex. Malakai nodded, and then, stood on his spot at the fridge like something he intended to guard, he glanced at the man, and drew a black.

Not black and white.

His rational, and often cold mind seemed to vacate at that thought, like Evan had just suggested something insane, an offense spelled out in an eight-word sentence that Kai dearly dissected to help myself recover from the shock of its presence. Not black and white. What a privileged thing to say. He watched his flat-mate bitterly, his brows arched high and his gaze, as you’d guess, unimpressed and wry. The dictionary definition of doubtful.

He turned on the spot.

Grabbed himself a cup in a string of hasty movements, since he was no savage who’d chug his drinks straight from the bottle. He poured himself a glassful, and placed it to his lips, his breath ghosting over the rim with a wry and delicate, “Potato, potato, Evander, a confident slut is still just a slut."

Then, he drank.

Half-sated, he sat the glass and bottle back on the counter, his back still turned to the tinkering man but the calm of the night had an unfortunate effect on Malakai as well; his senses, otherwise so sharp and trained to keep him alert at all times, seemed duller like a blade that had met the metal surface of some door in repeat impacts. He felt his mental faculties slacken, and felt them grow drowsy as though he’d doused himself. He glanced at Evan over his shoulder--

-choked on something that seemed like a snicker.

“Mhm, funny,” he said, in a low, even strained voice, the corners of his lips twitching. He controlled them, and cleared his expression.

Focus.

And then, feeling refreshed, his milk returned to the fridge and the glass happily vacated, he rinsed it quickly, wiped it dry and glistening, and meticulously returned it to the same exact spot where it’d been recovered.

Then he spun on his heel and walked to face Evan like fixed in the spot. His hands were clasped at his back, the posturing bringing a light blush to his cheeks.

“Coitus,” explained Malakai importantly, enunciating clearly, “is an act between a man, and a woman… or various men, women, and whatever combination that the consenting parties prefer. I understand you may be worried about emotional development. In that case, I am very happy inform you I will never fall in love with you.”

Chin high, he punctuated his words with a nod, and some grimacing of his features as something occurred to him, and he drawled, disgusted and thoughtful--

“Mhmm, the notion of romantic love does sour me a bit. It appears we might have become pubescent girls, Evander. I may just paint your toenails pretty pink instead of sucking your cock.”

Malakai rocked himself on the balls of his feet.

And straightened his back, like a soldier ordered by their general.

“Periwinkle blue would go great with your eyes.”

No matter.

Relaxing (ha), he sank back down in his seat, and clasped his hands on the table, turning this into a business transaction. His forest green eyes seemed darker in this pale white, but the look in them spelled tenacity and focus.

Both warm.

“What I am proposing here is a mutually beneficial deal. We’re both adult men, and we can easily see we’re not compatible romantically. I am a human and you are not. There’s no benefit in falling in love with me, even if your heart might attempt at a few vile tugs. I trust you can tell it to quiet down.”

Love truly was just a question of telling your heart fuck off.

Malakai arched his brows, his expression tight and important.

“Similarly, I could not fall in love with a man who will easily outlive me by a century. I am merely a connoisseur of sex, facts, and compatibility, Evander, and as it turns out, I find you very physically appealing.”

Malakai pointed down Evan’s figure, sadly tucked behind the table he sat at, but as Malakai remembered to point out--

“Just the other day, I witnessed you in your nude. I admit it was inconsiderate of me to steal a glimpse of you, but the short second long indulgence was enough to confirm the stated facts with me. You are very attractive, and as people sadly incapacitated by emotions, we’re thankfully utterly incompatible in the love department. Ergo, there's no risk. We should have sex.

“I’ll buy a casserole dish.”

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 7 2017, 10:24 PM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

awards

halcyon heart
Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Evander. The wolf would cringe, a mainly internal response though his features would also contort lightly into something pinched and oddly unfond. His calm persisted beyond the need to furrow. It was his name after all and he'd not fault anyone for using it. Still, he hated it. Hated it as much now as he always had when Greer saw fit to murmur or shout it. But this wasn't the subject, though the subject that was would garner no more attention from him than the name would. He'd agree to disagree, silently as not to cause use of his name again in the proving of a point. So he would remain a named slut. This wasn't a bothered issue in his mind. It just was, the same could be said for all the sex he both had and did not.

Continued his work, focused and to this point of fixing, attention strained in its attempt to keep an eye on the other in the room. Multi-tasking was a chore better suited for others, his mind seemingly pouring all of itself into one subject at a time. The sound of water would shift his attention to Malakai as he washed the glass to return it back to its self. The order of his actions soothed, a set of motions he'd never expect from others though always from himself. The tidiness of it all sung quietly to him, softened his gaze before it was lost back into the guts of the little pocket watch set before him.

Malakai's voice would filter in and his mind, as wayward as it was, would attach itself to the man's words and drag him away from his work. A brow would rise as he watched the man, seemingly gentleman in this moment, all poised and proper in a kitchen that pained him slightly out of place against its cheap tiles and pale faded wall color. "I know what coitus is, Malakai. I am a slut." His voice wry with amusement as it swiveled back finally, absorbing the note over love and his confidant ability to never offer it to the wolf.

Good, everything I love dies in the end.

"Good."

The soft tug of his smile is offered to the watch as he finally scrapes away the last of the dark hue clinging to its infrastructure.

"I'm not opposed to that either...," he'd lose himself a moment as he tipped the little contraption over, opposite hand holding cogs in place as he tapped loose rust from its compartment to pile it all with the rest of its kind, carefully contained and off to the side. "Though you already promised pink, so I must insist you follow through." What kind of roommate would he be if he let the other flit from one promise to the next simply because of eye color?

Setting the watch back his hands, much too big for the task, would turn their attention to the extraction of a new spring from a tiny ziplock bag. Attention refusing to linger on anything but the man who'd seated himself beside once more, his tone closer though Evan's attention was sadly elsewhere and hadn't the ability to spare a glance.

"I see."

The wolf wouldn't point out the folly in this, that his wife had been mortal and he'd yet bound himself to her, in several ways and including this infamous love. Species did not dictate compatibility. He'd not argue. "It's likely not to be an issue," an agreement. He knew well how to cease the bleating of his heart for another if needed. A brow would rise as the small spring was finally dumped onto the paper towel. The mention of his name once more forgotten in the lapse of conversation to the physical presence of himself, nothing he'd rightly boast nor shun himself.

Spring caught between tweezers he'd pause a moment, eyes swinging sideways to peer at the dark green forested gaze beside him. It's brief and curious before it slides back to work, moving to slip the tiny spring into place with the precision of a surgeon, one who rarely practiced but was yet entitled as such. "I place very little stock in physicality, fickle thing as it is," He'd speak as he worked, tone low and mumbled, lost in the thought of his moments though not disinterested in what he said. "Your mind however, is chaotically beautiful...," Words would lapse as spring settles into place and he returns to piecing insides back together again. Which wasn't to say the rest of him wasn't as well, simply not that he judged by this alone if ever, a note he'd lose in his concentration.

"I see no harm in it--" gaze slipping back to glance at the man beside, smile warm and quiet before he lapsed back to finish placing cogs and plates back together-- "What's the worst to happen? You buy a casserole dish and I move out. At the very least, you'll gain potential casseroles of it. Who doesn't love a good casserole, aye?" The last screws faceted into place he'd set his tools aside to pluck the watch and press it closer as he wound it slowly, the resistance was better and within a few wind it'd return to its rhythmic ticking.

Set on the table he'd shift to cleaning, tone casual and light as broken spring and rust are gathered with a swift up and wander across the kitchen. "I don't suppose this will be an arrangement without rules, you seem the type," mess tossed int o the bin beneath the sink he'd turn his attention back to the table, a hip leaned against the counter as he regarded the back of the man seated at the table, straight and tall and proper. "I'm not sure I can give you emotionless sex, but I will try my best not to fall in love," wryly amused he'd push himself back to his chair, a thing swiveled sideways to side along the side of the table and better face Malakai. Legs stretched before him and ankles crossed he'd lean against the table, pressing a temple to his palm.

"So, let's hear it then, ramble them all off so we're on the same page, aye?"

--------------------
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Apr 8 2017, 01:17 AM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
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smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

awards

beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Kai blinked.

Watching the man work was amazing. He was organized, precise, and while Malakai couldn’t say it turned him on (no), it tickled all the discontent sides of him starved after order. It provided calm. Calm and focus to that constant sense of chaos that he’d not bothered to name and not look into, and would not. He glanced up at him, and quirked his brows. His expression was unimpressed.

And then steel and cold ponder.

“Beautiful is not a word I’d use,”
he drawled. There was a crispness to his tone. He focused back on the man’s meticulous steps, one after another bringing him closer to finishing up his task. Watching people conduct themselves, and mostly if a sense of order was involved, had always provided Malakai with something akin to honest to god countenance. It really was nice to look out the window where it rained while the inside of the building collapsed under flames. He might have had a penchant for dramatics, but as he would defend, the true poetry of life lay in the contrast.

Bad and good coexisted in a necessary relationship, unharmonious. He imagined that scene, the flames on the inside, the deceptive, and quiet rainfall on the outside, and focused back on the man.

His gaze was wry.

“I suppose we could realistically do with a casserole dish, there are a number of recipes I may try with its aid,” he defended, though sounded little overjoyed by it. His gaze skimmed the flat surfaces of the kitchen, noting the order. His lower lip curled out. He sat up straight.

Hands on his knees, he slanted a look at the ambitiously charmed Evan, snarking, “Funny, I see you’ve not learned your lesson. Trying to seduce me with banter again, I see.”

He pointed between them, and pointed out, “Appreciated. I might warm up to it after all. Although we not here to stimulate my mind.”

Shame about that.

Lips stretching back, Malakai couldn’t resist his ever constant need to move, and thus he moved and he walked, reaching the kitchen entrance and leaning to the side to poke his head out like he were checking the perimeter for enemy. The coast is clear! His brows furrowed, and in an overtly passionate and hasty tone he bit out, “Always wear protection. We're not forbidding each other from outside liaisons, therefore we need to keep ourselves protected. No kissing. No sex in our beds. We’re not starved after emotional intimacy. This is an affair of the body.”

Facing Evander, he walked to him in a calm and confident stride, maybe too much in both aspects, as though he were forcing either or, or, potentially, both. He walked, hands clasped at his back, and as he looked down at the man, he drawled, something wry in his tone, “But I do suppose that one of the mentioned transgressions may be forgiven. It is after all true that it helps whet the appetite. Hmm. Rules. If you would rise.”

Shortly, he jerked his hand up, beckoning Evan to rise, and then as he did, Malakai almost thoughtfully added, “It’d be a shame to limit an act that’s based around being uninhibited. I may profess to a rather profound dislike of emotional input, but sex, if stripped of what makes it sexual, would be no more graceful than genitalia applause. I won’t limit it.”

He grabbed a fistful of Evan’s shirt.

But he didn’t yank him forward. In what read so well as a sashay, Malakai approached the man himself, a humble, calm light in his eyes a second before it happened.

“Don’t hold back on me.”

His lips brushed over Evan’s in an accursed gentleness and then he was pulling him into kiss that was very bit of the uninhibited passion a man of his demeanor should likely not speak.

--------------------
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Apr 9 2017, 01:01 AM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

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halcyon heart
Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Malakai apparently didn't have the affinity to name his inner self beautiful. Evan wouldn't pay much mind to his drawled words, lost in his concentration as he was nor did he figure it'd matter much even if he had entertained an argument. It might not have been what Malakai would have used but it also wasn't he who'd used it to begin with, Evan had and did award the man's mind to beauty. A chaos that shown in vibrant colors and the odd little quirks of a man who saw things mostly different from Evan himself. It was a black to a white, complimentary and into that he'd offer to call it beautiful time and again. Let Malakai argue forever over it if he wished to waste the breath.

The wolf would hum lightly, a nonplussed agreement, as the man beside him spoke of recipes and this dish they hadn't needed until twenty minutes ago.

Tossing and cleaning his mess he'd settle himself back in his chair, his attention finally offered in full as arms cross themselves easily across his chest. A posture of defense on anyone else it simply looked languid and comfortable on a man seemingly impossibly to rile, one way or another. Stark blue eyes wandering Malakai's features as he sat there and offered his quip, a cheeky comment that would tug an easy soft smile across the wolf's features. "You've caught me," and wasn't it a fitting accusation, the aforementioned slut trying his damnedest to blur lines and seduce a man who seemed hellbent on nothing of the sort.

Save for perhaps talking about it like he were some part fond.

"No, of course not, we're here simply to cohabitate. I am aware."

Drawled. His smile would return, that thing that drew his face taunt and dug divots into his cheeks. Amused over this need to clearly define why they were here, time and again, he'd not push to mark it as something else but rather let the fussy one fuss over it as he wished. Not here to make friends, or fall in love, or apparently stimulate Malakai's mind. This was strictly about inhabiting the same four walls. Evan watched him as he stood and moved, unable to sit for any length of time, he'd remark this in his mind. He'd never seen him settled for long, not without a project or book sat in front of him but even that was not always enough to contain him.

He'd wander and the wolf would watch, curious more after his words than where his feet took him. He'd not be disappointed, the almost mechanical machination of his voice, a thing so exacted in tone but poignant where its edges were almost deceptively soft, delivered rules by which they would conduct themselves in coitus. It was all crisply laid out and in this figurative list they outlined, a thing he could see written in perfect penmanship and hung upon the their fridge, it tickled the need for order that he so closely clung himself to. His smile came easily, amused as it just barely curled the corners of his mouth, eyes yet tracing the movements of a man restless. "Yes, of course, no falling in love. It'd make this sex anything but safe, aye?" A verbal waving on of a subject seemingly tired and yet no less able to smile him a bit deeper.

Gaze would wander him, not a thing that marked Evan that slut he apparently was but rather a study of form and the manner in which it moved. Too tightly. Too taunt and tensely written as he paced himself back. All proper and tall and yet him frame mimicked his syntax in its inability to ease from his throat without perfectly wrought structure. Nothing lazy or fluid but rather the movements drilled into him.

He was prompted to rise and he would, the movement slow and languid where the other might have simply stood like jack-in-the-box meeting its trigger in a song. Evan's chuckle is low, his gaze warm and low-lidded under the pretense of merriment as Malakai droned on about these rules and something about genitalia. A brow would rise as a fist curled into the front of his shirt and wandered Malakai closer rather than yanked, appropriate seeing as passion had little room to be here at all.

Malakai's gaze was oddly soft as he approached Evan and prompted the wolf not to hold himself back.

And then they were sealed together in a kiss that he'd not expect from a man who spoke so passionately about not being passionate at all. The kiss itself was nothing he'd not done before and he'd not pause, as was asked of him not to. Pressed himself to match this thing that had been barred a minute ago, and then allowed seconds later and now pressed to action. Hands set on hips before they wandered, not the roving ardent mind you but rather a man bracing the thing he sought to deepen himself against. His calm wouldn't waver even in this, the shifted friction of their lips was monotonously slow and wanton, the scant few inches of height difference easily allowed for optimal angle as Evan's lips parted and the deepening of of this simple thing shifted to brush their noses and press the taste of almond milk against lupine. The ply of him was passionate even if its heat was quieted. He'd never subscribed himself to the lack of passion and so into he'd press it all.

When he finally pulled himself back, a thing needed for air, there was some soft golden tinge circling his eyes as his tongue flickered with a playful quip after the other's soft passion. "Careful, Malakai, your slut is showing." Murmured lightly against the mouth he'd just absconded himself from. The brush of his nose, some soft nuzzled this more indicative of the wolf than the man, where the lines blurred themselves and made them one, would ghost past a cheek as Evan moved himself. Hands refused to swing at his side without being dragged from their perch. They were in the movement dictated by the soft rounding of the other as his languid easy steps carried him to the door, grabbing the few things left on the table to tote them along with himself to a hallway he'd traverse in the same easy manner. Needed the order of things, everything in its place, before he could continue this defining list of their cohabitation.

"You're fairly keen on this casserole dish, far more than you were the drapes," conversational his tone lapses easily as he wanders the hall, paused before a familiar door to shift his attention down the length of the hallway itself. Voice carrying easily enough. "What say you on the subject of a dog?" Amusement would lace his voice as he ducked into the confines of his room to deposit things into their rightful places before abandoning them to sift himself back down the hallways towards a man who he'd not find looked someone who wrought great enjoyment out of pets.

--------------------
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Apr 9 2017, 04:02 AM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
bisexual
smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

awards

beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
They kissed. Departing on a cheeky tone, Evan left Malakai standing behind like a woman who needed chasing. It made Malakai slant a look at him, watching him with that something in his expression likened to the narrowing of worlds. Their passionate and brief exchange sat hot on his tongue, and he tasted it on his lips, and rolled it over in his mind. Pretended to see it as the rope to latch onto as the man’s exit dragged him along, his meander slow. He walked out the kitchen, and stood himself in the doorway, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, and that dark, intense look on Evan’s frame. When Evan disappeared into his room, it did something to Malakai’s focus.

Rushed him out from the spot on an impulse.

He slowed down.

Evan was safe, walking out his room and Malakai rounded him, a contemplative, silent look in his features. He didn’t talk. And if the Man Who Talked didn’t talk, did the world come to an end? He was studious as he stood himself close to the wolf. Studied him, silent still, his lips pulling into some manner of expression best known as thoughtful-- even the lips, if aided by the quiet in the eyes, could talk without words. He cocked his head at that man, thoughtful.

He had such blue, blue eyes. Blue as the vast, and never-ending skies although if you asked Malakai, technically they were with an end; where the day sank and the night began, that thick, vast gradient area of nothing but a bit of both, there one could be said to meet its end, though the end of one thing had always notoriously bred something else. It was like the world didn’t truly understand the concept of the end. Everything had to lead to something. Loathe as he was to admit it, it was a fascinating cycle, if not vicious.

Sky. That was what he thought when he looked into Evan’s eyes. And as the man jested again, ignorant of the words like they were the problems for another man, and on another day, and a different, plainer time when his brain felt dull, and welcomed anything to remotely excite-- and as the man jested, Malakai just saw his blue, sky-like gaze, gentle and vast, and approached him without a thought.

“I don’t mind a dog.”

His brows gave a minimal twitch. Correcting the impulsive, and soft response, Malakai said, “Just not-- you have the most stunning blue eyes… Has anyone reminded you of this fact in the past twenty-four hours? I shall consider myself special even if you last heard the reminder an hour ago. That is truly an interesting color.” He cooed his words soft. And as he stood so very close that he planned a kiss, for certain, he brought his hand up and brushed his thumb below Evan’s eye.

And he looked him deep, deep in the eyes. Malakai’s a rich, and intense forest green, versus Evan’s--

“Blue eye color, found in an estimated eight percent of the population. A recessive gene… but no more than mine.”


A bitter note he softened almost literally with the pressure of his finger on Evan’s lip--

“Ah.”

His lips parted, their ‘o’ shape small. Malakai blinked, and watched Evan’s lips.

“How peculiar... “


He shifted one hand off the man and the other slid off with the laziness and reluctance of a touch that wanted to remain. And Malakai, sporting a frown, looked into Evan’s eyes--

Into his blue, blue eyes that reminded him of something he had seen once and which he commented on with that carrying and ringing--

“In certain light, they glow blue-gray, but when I look closer, their periwinkle character comes through… as straight and clear as my mind currently is. Indeed, so very peculiar,” he talked, the last word colored strong, “isn’t it?” He stood so close, a difficult, thoughtful expression on his face he’d heard people describe as handsome, and then daunting like he didn’t know a smile. After almost a lifetime free of laugh, there was a perpetual somberness to it even Malakai recognized. He noted the color of Evan’s eyes and, his hands slowly returning his sides, remarked in soft repose, “to see certain things differently merely because of a change of perspective muddles our understanding of right and wrong. Merely, we’re working with fractions, points of the spectrum that may not be considered without its surrounding color.

"...One of the many cruel ways the world likes to play with its tenants, as long known."


He quirked a brow, still looking into Evan's eyes with that intense, and fearless interest-- then he blinked, and slowly straightened.

"We were saying?"

--------------------
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Apr 9 2017, 06:06 PM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

awards

halcyon heart
Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Evan would be followed, and of course he would, they were hardly finished with this list of rules and their trials and testing. The need for order was something far stronger in the wolf than that of sex and while that might have certainly labeled him as a terrible slut, he'd argue that it wasn't he who'd named himself this to begin with. He was followed and when he emerged from his room the moment next he'd be rounded by a man who was decidedly quieter than Evan usually remembered him. Malakai wasn't ruled by his need for speech but he was, typically, one to talk far more than the wolf considered himself apt to. Instead he stood there thoughtful, studying a man that Evan could have told him wasn't worth the time, not that it might be wasteful so much as he'd simply never found himself all that interesting. It'd have been a lie had he ever found himself pitted against his copy, likely then he'd have found the ultimate broken thing to keep him busy for the rest of his life.

Alas.

His brows would rise minutely at the answering after a dog, surprised in some sense though not enough to rile him one way or another. The parting of his lips to speak on the subject wouldn't tremble over with words as the Man Who Talked did indeed talk, though not at all about dogs and into that Evan's brows would furrow a bit. Chin canting in a notion best described as skepticism over a thing he didn't rightly ever think much on. His eyes were blue, they also just were and that was about as far as he'd ever considered them. "No," his tone is low and breathy with laughter. As far as he knew no one had mentioned his eyes in decades. Blue, for however small eight percent was, didn't seem overly special.

Though what he would find interesting was the softness, a warmth that he'd not ever equated to the man who stood so very close to his face, examining eyes that were boring if compared to his own. Green and dark, forested and into that hue some part of the wolf would have gladly sung. A familiar thing that wasn't at all beyond the color that likened them to evergreens.

There was touch and Evan would find all of this far more peculiar than he did his eyes.

Still, he'd listen and watch, less so on eyes at all and more the splay of Malakai's face as it sat so closely to his own. All the age of him, small in comparison to the wolf and yet he stood there, the picture of humanity and its constant fight against time. The most peculiar point, a word he'd borrow for this moment, was the absence of laugh lines, a thing that peppered his own face easily. As easily as they would appear in the next few minutes if he were sure of anything it was his ability to find calm mirth is every situation. But Malakai seemed devoid. Had he ever laughed? Did he even know the tone of it or would it scare him if he heard it suddenly in this moment, ringing down their hallway?

"My eyes, or this moment?"

And thus he'd fall into the carefully etched lines of his face so suddenly it was a surprise he'd ever found a moment where he wasn't smiling. His tone was low and hushed, no need for volume at such close proximity but it painted the moment almost too intimate as Malakai moved to clarify, the artful expression on his face was a difficult one to read but it wasn't something that lacked attraction. Its depth alone made it a thing that easily called to Evan's itchy fingers in a need to create order of it. It was, as he'd stated before, the careful construction of that beautiful mind after the scaffolding had been peeled away and left it bare. Evan would find himself lost in the study of its complex angles beneath softly lidded gaze when the question was posed to drag him from his thoughts.

What had they been talking about?

"A dog,"

It was so wayward and lost that it might very well have never been there at all, spoken but without conviction his hand curled around the side of Malakai's neck and the soft tug was leaned into to meet that scant few inches halfway. Pressed their lips in a kiss that was nothing as it had been, its passion was soft and its mannerism exploratory. An offering of interest and curiosity, as if he wasn't sure whether they'd even fit together at all. Perhaps the first time had been a fluke? Calm and focused he'd lean himself back again, the hold on the other as temporary as their brushing together, slipped back to his side.

"Or perhaps more rules?"

He'd ponder this a moment before a shoulder would shrug lightly in a gentled waving of carelessness as to where they began again. "Come, lest you get the itch to scrawl them down the hall so we never forget them," chuckling softly he'd round the other and wander them back to the living room and a television neither used. He'd allow the other to pace if he so chose but Evan was a much better thoughtful sitter than he was a standing-in-the-hallway talker. Would sit himself on the couch with a thoughtful mention. "I do have one, a dog. She's with my daughter," hummed lightly. "You don't strike me a puppy sort? Luckily, she's not been that for a decade." All chewing and peeing on the rugs. Puppies though, might have been less Evan's thing than Malakai's, all that chaos and not the sort you could do much about until they actually grew the mind to stop it themselves. They weren't broken, simply young.

"Rules. Is that it then? I do suppose we can always add on as we go, aye?"

It didn't seem like nearly enough to keep anyone safe but then again, it'd been years since he'd needed rules for sex to begin with, at least beyond the casual obvious ones that came with those one nighters after closing a bar.

--------------------
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Apr 10 2017, 03:51 AM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
bisexual
smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

awards

beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
They kissed again. A hand on his neck, and Malakai was certain that it stood as some delicate, and kind exchange between half familiar faces, between acquaintances. They barely knew each other. Sex, at least in the context of that, may have been as bad of an idea as it could work out well. But more importantly than that Malakai noted just how keen on touching the man was. One might have argued, but so were you, you started this.

No.

A hand on his neck and then every disrupted step to the side confirmed with Malakai that his roommate was one romantic soul. Even if he had agreed to sex, suppose he’d struggle to call it as the young called it: fucking, a term that even Malakai himself didn’t like, was a term all the while, pinning the nature of the relationship between the two engaged. Which was to say-- the lack of it. If you fucked it truly was just about the sex itself. Let the bodies slap and then be on your way. If Evan were any fond of similar acts, they’d long be on the couch, half naked. Instead he’d touched him, and he had kissed him, and as he fluttered off like a fucking faerie, Malakai brought his fingers up to his lips, and touched them, frowning. He rubbed his fingers together like he gathered evidence. Then he looked at Evan over his shoulder.

His gaze darkened.

Conversation. Exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid. Walking forward, his strides casual and even slow like he desired none of what Evan’s being offered, he watched the top of the man’s head, scrutinizing him like a scientific object.

Passionate. Romantic. A sure bleeding heart, Malakai could tell. With his words, with his little need for order and then the subsequent return to the necessary matters and yet with some aura of calm. It almost felt like Evan was trying to savor him, building emotional intimacy.

Interesting.

Also, not at all what Malakai had wanted. Standing still over the man, he watched him, his gaze wry, his lip turned up.

“I withdraw my offer.”

Hands clasped at his back, he swung by the couch and stood himself a bit to the side, like he actually couldn’t stomach the thought of being in the spotlight. Fixed in the corner of Evan’s vision, he briskly chatted, “It’s very evident you’re not interested. I understand you’re amusing this, which is appreciated. I similarly appreciate gunshot wounds in my feet, as you have noticed.” Lips stretching in a forced, lacking smile that was more of a grimace, Malakai rocked himself forward, and then pointed at his feet, and looked down. “It’s sadly been a while since I’ve entertained one, so perhaps I don’t particularly enjoy them.”

He straightened.

Hands clasped at his back, he barked out, “Do I offer you tea, Evan? You and I will be doomed to converse, it appears to be the case. Very well. Tea and biscuits it is. I mention now that I am lactose intolerant. Never pour milk into my tea.”

With that, he spun on the spot, and walked to the kitchen once more. His voice, as he prepared their beverage, echoed. Lilted and strong, it carried down the hallways of their home, quick to reach Evan who’d hear it anyway, his lupine ears to blame. Malakai filled the kettle with water, sat it over the stove and turned it on, next rummaging through the upper cupboard to find them a tea.

“You look like you’d enjoy a good white. Or maybe a regular black with a splash of whiskey.”

A tea box was grabbed and withdrawn, its packaging pretty, attractive, and yet a total waste of time on Malakai. Lifting his head, he pinned it with a hard, judgmental stare, a twitch in his lip curling them next. They curled down.

“Darjeeling, as if I didn’t have enough of commercialized subpar tea.”


He located the bin and trashed it on spot.

“And never come back.”

The tea wouldn’t.

He scoffed, his lips pulling back. He swung his arms to and fro.

“Energy,” he talked, walking out the kitchen, and pacing. “I had hoped to exhaust it well tonight. In vain, of course. Name me your culinary likes and dislikes, Evander, we need to align our preferences.” He lifted his finger in a warning, and ordered, strict, “And consider what dishes you’d like. The casserole dish best be used to its fullest capacity."

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 11 2017, 03:30 PM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

awards

halcyon heart
Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
"Well, that didn't take long,"

Evan would chuckle softly, leaning an elbow against the armrest of the couch while pondering the man hovering off to one side, stationed precariously in his peripheral. He'd talk, as he was wont to do and Evan, also as he was wont, would listen. His amusement would waver a slight, shifting about to deepen and wane as the subject itself traipsed on seemingly haphazardly. A lack of interest and bullet wounds and it all seemed an odd little epiphany to have in this moment, one where you suddenly decided that you might not, in fact, enjoy the presence of a bullet to your foot. This seemed like a no-brainer to Evan but then apparently he was wrought without interest so perhaps he knew little of what he thought he did.

"I believe, what you're actually looking for is a mindless fuck. I'd suggest you name it what it is next time, it'll save you time on rules," his tone is soft and rung like playful and thoughtless banter as his gaze finally shifted to the man yet hovering. Sex left too many options, was a name for an act of shoving one thing into another and did little to dictate the rest of the act. What he wanted was a fuck and for all Evan would have equally entertained this thought it wasn't his forte in the least.

Tea and conversation seemed to be their lot for the evening and Evan wouldn't frown over it like Malakai seemed apt to (understandably if he'd been expecting sex and yet, here they were completely devoid of it. A mental note is made over Malakai's inability to process lactose as he wandered to make tea. Or rather shame and toss it for its offensive commercialized packaging. He'd hear all of this better than he saw it though he was smart enough to put it all together before Malakai returned to pace just outside the kitchen, like its momentary defender.

"You still can. You and the night are both yet young," he'd set aside the thought of food while his mind wandered over this issue of energy the other was battling at current. "One of our neighbors. Dark eyed woman a handful of houses down, gave me her card when I was moving in. I can't imagine it was just in case I conveniently needed a stripper." It wasn't offered as means to shirk the other's company or at a loss as to whether Malakai could rustle up his own partner for sex but rather an offer that he'd not be offended if he saw to the expulsion of his energy.

”She might be the slut you're looking for,”

A shoulder would shrug lightly as he affixed his gaze to the pacing wander of the other. "I'm not picky, though I have noted your abundance of everything sans meat, vegetarian then? Or are you one of those hemp wearing, cause fighting vegans?" His smile would brush across his face, pulling taunt all his laugh lines and the dimples in his cheeks. "Either way it's not a fuss, I can cook my own meat, though I will be eating it, so hopefully that won't award me lectures." The wolf wasn't something that would revel in an all plant diet but rather it would likely grow chaotic and ill-fed and protest the lacking. No one wanted that.

"Your intolerance is lactose, mine is cocoa. Not a great loss as my sweet tooth is almost nonexistent anyway."

A mention that was waved away a moment later. "I do believe I was left with Lucy's recipe box... I'll dig around for it tomorrow. She was always a great purveyor of casseroles," his gaze would level at the other as he wandered aimlessly, his energy apparently abound and overflowing from lack of exertion, from a slut terrible, though he'd have argued that he'd not named himself this to begin with. "I do draw the line at gray-matter cheeses. If it's not from a animal and you still call it a cheese...," the look on his face was some wayward but stern absolutely not. "I will absolutely call your bullshit." Cheese that wasn't cheese was his absolute favorite thing to dislike. Cheese, by definition, was (unfortunately) a lactose built substance. "I don't care if you use it, but at least call it what it is," bullshit not-actually-cheese-at-all.

His calm persisted, even as it wavered ever so slightly under the pretense of wrongly named cheeses. "I do have some cooking experience, military grade at best but I'm always happy to lend a hand."

Gaze lapses to stare at the kitchen, thoughtful a long moment before he slides his blue eyes back to Malakai.

"What is that, anyway? Your splatterer of brain matter... and should I expect random potentially fatal objects to just be left lying around?"

The curious thing still sat on their kitchen table like it meant nothing, even though it could very well see to his end.

--------------------
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Apr 11 2017, 11:20 PM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
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smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

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beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
A mindless fuck.

That paused Malakai’s movements.

Wryly, and not even a second later, he drawled, “I do detest that expression”, his mind flying to all the porno sites or the modern youth he’d had the displeasure of coming across. Fucking. While it did accurately pin the act itself, it actually grated on him to have it used around him. Such an undignified and low-life expression may have served its purpose around the correct circles, but Malakai didn’t suppose they'd been de-aged and given a few drug abusing friends who stood with them in a circle. They weren’t kids huddling in some alleyway, trying to one man each other in vile and juvenile commentary. But one could only hope that in due time Evan would see the error of this and turn accordingly contrite. Maybe even self-flagellate, although there Malakai worried he’d go too far, self-hating for forever as men of his predisposition for joke romance were wont. Either all in or all out. Malakai could only faintly appreciate the presumed black and white behavior.

Tone wry, and his gaze on Evan, he delicately drawled, “I do appreciate your concern. Alas, in my knowledge, strippers hate the insinuation they’re prostitutes. Do ask her when you meet her.” His brows arched, his body ready to be spun on the spot to remove himself from this offensive moment. He considered said stripper taking all her rage out on Evan, and then almost wanted to toss Evan at her regardless, himself stood in the corner somewhere and taking notes how this stripper behaved. Perhaps a bit of a social experiment was exactly what they all needed?

Malakai contemplated it, and wandered back into the kitchen. Almost. In the doorway he stopped. Leaning over the wall, he watched the silent, dark stove as it heated up the kettle, remembering the times when the stoves were made to show the flickers of the flame as well. They’d been blue with a yellow accent, he remembered, something so artificial he’d often watch them lap at the bottom of every skillet with a child-like, nervous ponder of someone vividly picturing how a single careless use of that could go so terribly wrong. He exhaled, and then leaned back in his upper body, as though to peer back at the ever chatty Evan in the living room.

“Vegan, it’s like you’re hoping to insult me,”
he bit, his tone hurried. He made an unimpressed face, and then found himself looking at the man. No to cocoa, huh? Did he also detest avocados? Malakai puckered out his lips, and considered the option. Perhaps he should stuff some dishes down Evan’s throat down and observe his reactions? There was nothing more valuable in the world than intel. Presuming they’d be stuck together for a while, he couldn’t imagine a better way of getting close than repeat shared poisonings. He swore they were innocent. As Malakai liked to think, if he wanted Evander Grier gone, he’d be long gone. Facts of the world.

Watching the kettle, his arms crossed over his chest, he listened to the man talk. The promise was noted, Malakai’s features pulled into an intense, and contemplative frown, the words prompting him to roll his eyes. “I also prefer a lack of jesting, but I don’t see you adjusting to me,” he drawled, turning his head to the side-- “Fret not,”-- and added that then, his tone clipped, but if you looked hard enough, almost assuaging. “No gray matter cheeses here…” And with that he walked to the stove, listening to the black kettle, before glancing up at the cupboards and opening the one with cups. He withdrew two mugs for them, closed the cupboard, and set the mugs on the table, still however needing to walk out onto the main living area where he so very casually answered, his tone flat and nonsensical, “That’s a shifter trapper, it shoots silver coated projectiles, don’t touch it. What tea would you like?”

Almost casually he returned to the kitchen, choosing a rather tame Ceylon flavor for himself, and then rummaging through the cupboards, certain he’d not heard Evan answer him before because Evan had not answered, and such a bother it created, so many teas available for service and yet Evan’s preferences a mystery. It did, however, stimulate Malakai’s brain to work, and holding a nice black container in his hand, he suddenly impassioned with the suspicion Evan like matcha; the bitter, strong flavorful beverage wasn’t for everyone, but its flavor profile almost fit Evan’s teasing, like the black to his white that completed the entire picture. Malakai, holding the ceramic, and small black tea container grinned, and rocked himself on the balls of his heel. Yes, naturally, it had to be green tea.

Proud of himself, he returned the tea back whence he’d grabbed it, since fuck you Evander, this was an expensive privilege. The cupboards, swung open and shut, echoed in a click once more, and Malakai made some odd, thoughtful noise with his lips to entertain his ears, and then watched the kettle.

It occurred to him then.

“Mhm, my previous flatmate was a shifter,” he explained. His grin was gone, but the mood even obviously bettered, more energetic, his tone back to its fast, erratic cadence. He looked at the doorway over his shoulder, as though he expected Evan to stand there, hands on his hips and his gaze one of perhaps well-deserved offense, if Malakai understood people’s common desire not to be killed randomly.

Unable to help it, he grinned again.

“You may rest at ease, Evander, I didn’t construct it thinking of you. It’s correct that once upon a time before you came, I had a most unsavory flatmate who made a habit out of flaunting his otherness. We’d often tussle, encounters which as I’m sure you can imagine always ended in my loss.” He threw his arm out, as though to motion at the space around them, his gaze almost fond. “There.” He pointed at the spot by the kitchen table, hands clasped at his back and his form rocking from the excess energy. “He tripped me and flattened me there where I point. I have to proudly share that kneeing a shifter in his genitalia has the same result as if he were a mere mortal.”

He gave a strong nod at that. Then straightened, as though hoping to defeat the double S of his spine, and contemplated something for a second, his tone growing colder.

“Curiously, he didn’t enjoy that…”


A bit like people and them not enjoying near death. Shrugging, Malakai returned to facing the stove, dismissing, “Well, he was a bit of a killjoy. Sadly, he didn’t stay. I do say sadly. His proneness to violence teased my curiosity about your species. Do tell me, Evander, can you consume avocado?”

--------------------
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Apr 12 2017, 08:55 PM
131
posts
205 Shifter ER Doctor & VA hospital volunteer
wolf
The pull on my flesh was just too strong. Stifled the choice and the air in my lungs. Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie.
Furore Pack
Pansexual
Adoring // Shipped
Evan

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Sarah
she/hers/that bitch | PST | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Evan's amusement would simmer as he watched the man who was suddenly affronted by the term mindless fuck when that was, in reality what he was asking for. A means to expel energy without the attachment of anything else. A contract made strictly of flesh and he'd made an exception to allow for a kiss, maybe two. Evan had no doubt that he regretted such things now but he'd not say as much as he simply wandered his gaze along with the other as he made to lean against the door frame and watch the stove idly. He seemed oddly uppity, a note Evan would make casually as he observed the biting tone that clipped from his tongue. So easy to rile if you stepped off the beaten path he seemed to wander. "Hoping? You give me too much credit," a light sort of thing that flicked from his tongue like a hand through smoke to see to its dissipation.

Evan simply had opinions on the subject, if that insulted, then suppose he did move to insult readily, whether he intended to this end or not was up for debate.

"Old habits, Malakai. Old habits, but I do thank you for avoiding the grayest of cheeses," his jesting came easily and calmly as he sat himself there pondering over this moment. Not so much the man now but rather the room if you trusted the swing of his summery gaze. Thoughtful he'd wander and see nothing as Malakai slipped back into the kitchen to tend to his hospitality tea. His attention would catch on the object that had garnered all this odd conversation to begin with and in his asking Malakai would answer. A brow rising he'd question further without actually saying anything, gaze slipping from man to this shifter trapper he'd just... left to sit around casually.

Evan's gaze darkened minutely as the other wandered back into the kitchen, his feet following out of must.

An offense that might not have been deep or even warranted but it was there anyway, resting across his face in the soft calm twist of a brow.

Leaned against the doorway the old wolf would wander the contraption as Malakai continued his fussing over tea. When his tone came it was drawled and lazy. "I prefer my tea taste like scotch, so feel free to feed me whatever you've seen fit to toss. I won't find offense in its commercialization," the curl of his mouth is curt and quiet, gaze refusing to leave the trap sat on their kitchen table.

Malakai would explain and Evan would listen, noting the influx of himself into this bit of their interaction. Its pace increasing and the energy driving it hurrying it along in something he might have called giddy excitement if he thought the other capable of it.

He doubted it, maybe one or the other but together?

He listened.

This story seemed ridiculous when marked with the notes it was. "Of course it did, we're not that dissimilar," a brow would rise in question as he peered at the other a long moment, curious after this thing that Malakai found interesting. Shifter and humans were the same as far body structure went, at least most days of the month anyway. "Surprisingly enough, our bone density and even our hemoglobin construction is similar. There really isn't much that separates us, beyond this obvious otherness. Structurally though, we were built mortal. So yes, I don't suspect he would have," a quiet chuckle, a sound made for the purpose of emphasis but it lacked the warm mirth that was typical of it. Medical was easy, the similarities were fascinating to a young mind though he found shifters to be a rather boring subject now days, fae on the other hand? Fae he could sit and poke around in for hours and never tire of their crimson washed insides. Each one so different from the next and their powers diverse and splendidly fascinating.

When his chuckle returned it was that same amused sound from earlier. "You wonder over persin, aye?" His mouth would curl lightly. "You'll have to try harder than avocado to kill me, Malakai. Persin, however rumored, isn't poisonous to dogs, upsetting maybe... but nor am I dog. So, avocado's aren't an issue." He'd frown at the table a moment or rightly the trap that sat and stared at him, there was no fear in his face but then again not everyone was so consumed by their avoidance of death. "Silver on the other hand...," muttered lowly as he wandered his gaze back to Malakai.

"You don't drink," an easy assumption made by lack of bottles and inebriation over the weeks he'd been here. "And you don't eat meat, any reason for it? Either or?" He'd not suspect Malakai was also allergic both of those as well. Nor did he seem the type to be impassioned after fuzzy faces and their subsequent souls and feelings, not when he had this distinct excitement over death traps. So why then? It was an easy enough conclusion he supposed, but his ability to construct assumptions could only get him so far before he simply asked after the answers he wanted.

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Apr 13 2017, 02:33 AM
121
posts
39 spellbinder electrician
spellbinder
I'm the ghost in your house, calling your name, my memory lingers, you'll never be the same.
none
bisexual
smitten/shipped
Mal/Kai

awards

beaten off path
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Malakai’s retort was unforgivably succinct.

“Barbaric,”
he said to Evan over his shoulder, like the cheek of him for wanting to add anything to his beverage. Of course, it was as he had expected, and in that Evan’s response both irked and pleased. The best of both worlds, so to speak. Malakai quirked his brows and that was it.

His chin tilting up, his hands were at his back, the right hand clasped around his left wrist as he pondered Evan’s words, concluding them with a thoughtful, “Ahh, yes, humanoid not in appearance only. I should have thought.” He hadn’t. Oddly, it suited him to believe that if shifters weren’t human, they just weren’t human in anything. Drawing such a hard dividing line between species, however, suddenly struck him then as of being very obvious, and bitter origins.

His mood at once souring, Malakai tutted, judging himself for his temporary folly. How human that he’d erred in this way-- that he’d forgotten who he was-- what, rather, he had. The three-word condition that instilled nervousness as its recipients knew not what it meant; borderline, he liked to name it shortly, if he ever did name it, and that it had made him decide humans were humans, and non-humans non-humans was almost silly. It made sense that the likeness between the many known species wouldn’t remain with just appearance. Additionally, as he considered that shifters did come from human loins, they had to have been as human as in many ways they were not.

But the more Malakai thought about it, mentally compiling what little he knew about the world species, the colder his heart beat, the narrower his vision-- the more exciting this bland, vast world. He didn’t know everything about them. So wrapped up in his misery for such a forever, he’d barely dipped his fingertips into the pool of species. Dryads, and kitsunes, vampires and witches, there weren’t just there to conduct themselves but to be known and experienced. And experience, in truth, was something that had always stained his thoughts bitter, like only the cruelest of creators could have made it that you didn’t know pain until you were put through the wood chipper. He glanced up at Evan once more, thoughts interrupted by his chuckle. Now, what was the Lothario snickering at now?

Ah, persin.

Malakai’s lips, as he uncharacteristically leaned over the counter top behind him, smoothed into a grin. It was pale and lacking. His eyes wide and mirthless, he flatly jested, “Ah, plans foiled. Perhaps another time. I was hoping to finish you off with a mean guacamole. I’ll consider another weapon then.”

He turned to tend to their teas then.

“I don’t drink,” he echoed to confirm, busy with the mugs that he loaded with hot water, filling them to the top of their ears. The teabags floated to the surface, staining the water russet. He looked up.

Blinked and emptied the kettle into the kitchen sink, before setting it down on the stove though on another burner, not wanting the residual heats to play off each other. Spinning on the spot, he told Evan coolly, something almost gentle in his tone (coupled with the wry, studious expression), “You’re worried it will kill you? It’s a precaution. Perhaps not against you, but even against you. Far be it for me to overestimate myself.”

He approached Evan. Stood so very close to him as the metallic contraption was moved to face away, a few of the naked wires fiddled with his hand. Malakai’s gaze was difficult.

“I’m all too aware I’m a human.”

Yet.

He brushed his index finger over a small button obscured by a tush of wires, and it fired a projectile into the wall.

Embedded a quarter an inch in, the two inch long silvered arrow gleamed without any real intent to hurt, innocent in its structure, through its arrow head looking sharp and made to be hard to remove; its sleek shape with extending edges would make sure to hook hard into any flesh it invaded.

Malakai stood himself at the wall, pressing his hand over the arrow and then using the other to yank it out. It came free.

“As innocent as pain can be,” he said delicately, his look dark as he extended his hand in Evan’s direction, palm up. In no way was it an offer to grab it. Wryly, and silently, Malakai sank back, wandering back by his contraption and inserting the arrow back through the back.

“It’s fully loaded. Sadly, I’ve come across some issues in its construction. It will not work unless fully loaded. I have been looking into the problem, and had hoped to employ some of the people I know. Many sadly take offense with the nature of my creation. I would understand, if I only had any patience for stifled progress.”

His tone was flat, and chilled. Practical, as he’d defend. A level drawl that seemed a tad too low. He tutted once more, and then grabbed the arm of the contraption, extended out of its body.

“Here,” he said, lifting his gaze up and landing it on Evan. He pointed the arm up. “Now, your worst worry is it will shoot for the ceiling, if you do happen to trigger it. I would point it down, but as I had learned, it has a habit of bouncing.”

His lips furled back at that--

“And I don’t eat meat because I detest the texture. Now, would you like guacamole for tomorrow?”

--------------------
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