† Crystalline Tears

Nozaki had spent the past several hours sitting in the Archive, pouring over books. Two large stacks sat beside him. The taller one was a discard pile. Looking for references here was proving harder than he thought it would be. He couldn’t seem to find any manga and was having trouble finding books with pictures. He did however manage to find a section filled with romance novels. Many had covers that could potentially make for good reference poses. 

Perhaps that was why he had no qualms about pausing when he came across signs of life at one of the tables. He very nearly missed the man seated there behind one of his stacks of books, but a few steps more, and the view was all-too clear.

Enough that when he approached, his eyes were already on one of the more questionable covers. He didn’t say a word before plucking it from the table for a closer look, and a glance at the back cover.

“Hm?” He paused at the offer of a drink, followed but the ever-present worry. Dorian merely smiled, and stepped closer to him. “Relax, Atlus. The wait was of no consequence.” That said, he finally took the opportunity to steal a kiss, however brief. Part because he wanted to, and part to silence the other for a moment. He’d keep rambling otherwise, and they both knew it.

“No doubt you already know about the separate factions, so... as far as Central, here, is concerned,” he gestured off to his left, “to the heart of the city, near the tower, is where you’ll find most of the shops, though there are many throughout.” One more shrug, the ever-shifting populace could only make so many things constant. “The more north you proceed from there, toward faction borders, the more likely you are to run into fights breaking out, and thus... more empty buildings, usually.”

     He raises his guard slightly, hoping the change in his demeanor isn’t noticed. “I’d very much appreciate it,” he says, smiling slightly, “Ideally, I’d want directions to the exit, but somehow, I think, getting out of here wouldn’t be as easy as a door marked with ‘exit’.

     Maybe a little healthy competition will help clear his mind? He believes this, but still doesn’t realize the scale of this three faction struggle (or, he does realize, and simply denies it because he rather be back home). 

     He ties the smooth cloth onto his arm (and rips a small part of it off to tie onto Rollo’s paw so that they would match), then stands battle ready in the middle of the central city. The problem he finds, though, is he doesn’t spot any target nearby and makes a big fool of himself just standing there, hands on his hips, for about five minutes.

His own crimson banner stayed with his dragonelle, Cerise, gleaming bright against the dark bronze of her scales. Tying it around her neck had seemed the safest place, since fast as he was, she could fly quicker than he could much anything else. So far, it had proven quite effective, while he tucked a few snatched flags into his coat. Not a bad start to the day.

Up ahead, he smirked a little to himself when another possible target crossed his path. He looked interesting, at the very least.

"You’re always worth it, Dorian… and you look wonderful. I’m glad you like it." Atlus looked the other way, going red even at the ears. Why was it so hard to say exactly what he was thinking? It was a little — well, no, it was extremely cheesy, so maybe that was why…

To that, he just chuckled.

In the chaos of the smoke bomb, Loki had fled the tree, reappearing in a bush nearby. He laughed, tossing a bigger candy bomb, this one a different color than the previous…

"Hope you like it! ☆"

"How--" He pauses when he can finally see what the imp had done. Pink? Of all the things... "Tsk."

There were very few things in life he totally couldn’t stand. One of them was Takeru winning in arm wrestling contests. The other…

"So you’re just gonna ignore me, huh?"

"At least take something for the road. ★"

The cloud of smoke soon enveloping him only paid credence to that. His steps paused, but only long enough for an arm to lift and cover his nose and mouth, thereby keeping his lungs mostly smoke free. That done, he was very casually about stepping to the edge of the little display, ah yes, fresh air.

"A lovely gift, but one saved for far better company than I, I'm afraid."

"Oooh, deadlier, huh? You must be pretty tough if you can make do with a toothpick. What about a sewing needle? Or a pine needle?" He laughed. "So scary. ♪ I’m shaking in my tree."

He watched amusedly, strumming his fingers on the branch. If the knife went, he’d just have to jump. But no human was faster than he was, right?

"Not smart enough to figure out idiocy? So be it."

In the spirit of not humoring this apparent idiot, he didn't bother to answer his taunting questions. Instead, he quietly laughed, and turned to resume his previous trek.

"Here it is! Just one more second, though. Keep your eyes closed… I’ll be careful, I promise."

True to his word, Atlus slowly repositioned Dorian’s arms to slip something on them. Two sleeves… but they were short, silky, ended right at the shoulders. Some tiny clinking noise gave away that there might be a buckle in the back, and Atlus’ arms reached around his waist to adjust it. His movements were gentle, and when the garment tightened, it was just enough to fit without squeezing.

"There, you can open your eyes— wait, oops!" He reached out once more, this time for the front of the thing. A little tickle of warmth followed each motion, something clasping, perhaps…?

"Alright… now you can open them.”

"What do you think?"

When Dorian finally did look, he slowly blinked, clearly surprised. Instinctively, a hand very lightly ran across the fabric, and he unconsciously let out a pleased hum. Whatever it was, it certainly felt nice.

Atlus hopped onto the seat first, inching as far forward as he could. “If you can’t sit down, there’s a bar to put your feet on… you’ll just have to hold onto my back and stand, but I think there’s enough room, right?” He glanced over his shoulder, putting one foot on the pedal. As soon as Dorian gave the call, he’d go for it.

Finally, however, he did slide into place behind him on the seat. Of course, while there was enough room, it still made for a tight fit. Dorian himself made no mention of it, merely looping his arms around him, so as not to fall. In other words, he wasn't going to be the one to make this awkward, for a change.

"That’s pretty impressive, you know… maybe you’ll be the first human to fly, if you try hard enough. ♪" Loki watched the knife move back and forth, still smiling. "What’s that, by the way?" He pointed, wiggling his finger. 

"A letter opener? No…"

"This? It's a good deal deadlier than either--though I could make due with those just as easily."

He pauses the movement of his fingers, letting the knife rest snugly between his knuckles. Does he intend to throw it? Maybe. But only depending on how this imp decides to tell himself he's clever.

Atlus paused, taking the bag gently. He peeked inside, and in moments, his expression swelled with joy. “Dorian, they’re wonderful… thank you, thank you so much.

"And now that it’s getting warmer, we can plant these… I’m sure they’ll look beautiful if we put these grape hyacinths in a neat row leading up to the door, and the hydrangeas on either side, or… no no, let’s put the hydrangeas next to these oleander, the blue and the pink will look wonderful together…"

Wait. This was… a lot of complicated information. Poor Dorian didn’t come to have his ear talked off. “Well…” 

"Quite all right, Atlus." He chuckled quietly, not bothered at all. At least Atlus was able to catch himself--but most of all, he was still smiling, and really, that was the important thing here.

"Hnn?" His gaze followed Atlus as he beelined for the closet, and slowly arched a brow. He wasn't necessarily surprised, so much as curious; of course Atlus would have gotten him something.