of muses

@tomodachiguy | meme

As vexing as the blond’s height could be, there were its benefits (even if that four inch divide wasn’t truly that great). Being shorter, slimmer, put him in perfect position when seated by his side to rest his head ‘pon the other’s cheek and collar. A perfect fit, maximum comfort (though the ease with which he found himself relaxing was worrisome; what if this contentment were shattered one day? or worse; what if it stayed this way?). Though troubled thoughts were hardly at the front of his mind in the moment, melted away to easily ignored background noise by the warmth and comfort of being so close.

It was hardly a thought then, when the militant, in the midst of shifting, turned his head just a bit more, brushing ‘gainst the blond’s neck. The smallest, briefest of pecks–hardly a kiss at all, really, though it was enough still roused Guy from his own devices, brushing his cheek ‘gainst azure locks with a small, inquisitive ‘hm?’ (as if it’d get any answer, he’d already gone back to his book, and would steadfastly deny the action having occurred if asked). 

Still, his attention shifted from written word to side as Guy hummed to himself in quiet laughter from whatever thoughts it was that went on in his mind when he found the Oswell’s actions so amusing (and how often that happened! really, he was of mind he ought be more offended). His attention caught on rough, calloused hands that always gave the softest touches, and his own (equally rough–as t’was the mark of those who lived by combat) set about bookmarking and closing his diversion. 

   “Give me your hand.”   The order was abrupt and blunt, and immediately (with bemused air) answered. Lacing fingers between others’ he brought proffered hand up, and after moment’s inspection, met fore and middle fingertips to lips, holding for a beat before shifting again. His book went off to the side, their still-entwined hands down ‘pon Guy’s thigh as the militant’s body twisted to get a better position. And yet–now that he was there, facing the blond after a not as slick as he’d prefer transition to kneeling beside him, it was a bit, well–embarrassing. This was poorly thought out. In fact, it wasn’t thought about at all. This was what happened when he didn’t consider his actions through properly. 

Great, now he was flustered. That was extra embarrassing and the embarrassment quotient only rose as Guy did his darnedest not to laugh (and failed at trying to keep a straight face). The next great idea was to get so close he couldn’t make out the details of that awfully kept smirk–and so he did, quite a bit faster and rougher than necessary, and small snorts were replaced with both men’s low-volume ‘ow’s. At this, there was a full break in the blond’s composure, laughter ensuing right up ‘til Hubert’s hand (gently) slapped his cheek (and stayed there). Quieted in surprise, and then interest, the militant could now move on to the next stage, though he still wavered. Getting in closer, closer, a breath away–and he jerked back. Teeth grit, gaze fell down and side–but the hesitation was only momentary. He’d gotten this far–he might as well complete it, and so he did; briefly meeting lips, once, twice–

And with that done, if you’ll excuse him, he really must be going to think about every wrong move he’d just made and berate his lack of perfection, subtlety and skillfulness in, well, everything.

@thalassus | meme 

Humans were such interesting creatures. Sirens–well, his family, especially (the only sirens he knew, certainly) were all alike. His brother was perhaps the most removed, but even still–he still had no qualms about luring sailors to their doom. Made it a competition, even, with another of the more bloodthirsty of the clan.

In this moment of reprieve, he held Percy’s wrist, turning his hand side to side in curious inspection. His own hands would look the same if viewed ‘pon mundane ways–it was only when he let the Mist subside that they’d be viewed as they were; claws instead nails. Granted, even without glamour they didn’t stand out too much–he was, perhaps, the only one on the island interested in manicures and keeping his nails clean and trim and not covered in dried blood and kelp and whatever else everyone seemed to think was cool. But he’d wager a bet that wasn’t Percy’s aesthetic, for which he was grateful. 

Instead, his hands were calloused, rough from time at sea. Scarred from battles and misfortunes he’d lived through–he rubbed a thumb ‘gainst the other’s palm, quite in marvel over the feel. Sure, there were sirens with rough hands, but he hadn’t liked them enough (or thought their hands clean enough) to get all touchy with. He quite liked the feeling. So much so–his head dipped down as he brought Percy’s hand up–but no, that was too forward, lips hovering just above knuckles.

There’re a few breathy huffs that are his laughter as he pulls back, withdrawing his hand for a quick motion over his chest–’sorry’.

      He remains seated calmly to allow his dear friend to ground himself, a stab to the chest when he hears that sniffle. He would want to do anything to reprieve the young scholar of his pain, yet he doesn’t know how, the small stain of wetness that cools quickly where it once was warm chilling him just a bit too much. Perhaps there’s a small moment of gratitude, that the boy could allow himself to fall apart just a bit at the seams with the fallen savior by his side. For that, he couldn’t help but be grateful, to watch the open second of weakness. Even if he could do nothing to offer strength, he could offer distraction.

          ❝If staying by you is all I need, then I’ll gladly do so. You knew that from a while ago.❞ The admiration within the statement holds firm, forever in awe of what the Keeper had done & would continue to do.

      With that new determination, the brunet rises to his feet, taking the boy’s hand to hoist him up in tandem. Fixing the hat ‘pon the scholar’s head once again, the brunet offers a beaming grin from the bubbling excitement at the thought of exploring all new parts unknown that would have been locked away to him had Tyro not been by his side.

          ❝Should we give it a try, then? Let’s see these Archives!❞

Sorey was the best, far as the young Keeper was concerned, and his shoulders slumped in relief. It was easy at times to forget he had friends, companions ‘pon his quest--so often he tried to keep his origins secret. It simply seemed easiest--revealing he was otherwordly and calling the lives of those he traveled with simply ‘stories’ or Records without gained trust seemed a foolproof plan to be dismissed as a child playing pretend, or worse. A reminder that he was past this point was welcome.

The youth gave a small ‘oh!’ ‘pon unexpected motion, being pulled up before he knew what was going on. He supposed getting up and going on was the easiest way to ensure a melancholy mood didn’t linger, it seemed a tad quick--

   “Oh, uh--yeah! Let me just--”   there’s a quick brushing off of coat pleats, before he bends to retrieve his tome ‘pon the ground. There’s only a bit of fumbling picking up his overlarge book, brushing off unwanted grass and dirt that always came with those items off the ground. Once that was done, he flipped through the pages, ignoring the first half that contained his spells and items. 

Touching Meme: Kiss Addition!

Kiss on the forehead: Parental/Familial love

Kiss on the eyelids: You make me sad/Upset

Kiss on the nose: You make me happy

Kiss on the cheek: Platonic love/Friendship/Attraction

Kiss on the lips: Romantic love/Attraction

Kiss on the neck: I want you/You are mine

Kiss over the heart: I am connected to you

Kiss over the wrist: I think you are beautiful/I find you attractive

Kiss over the back of the hand: Respect/Admiration/Reverence

Kiss on the palm of the hand: I am yours/I know you have me

Kiss on the knuckles: Protectiveness

Kiss on the fingertips: I care about you

Kiss on the nails: I want to hurt you/You've hurt me

Kiss on the stomach: Sexual attraction/Desire

Kiss on the knees: I want to support you

Kiss on the feet: Fealty/Loyalty/Servitude/Submission

Almost kiss: Interest/Curiosity

No kiss: Indifference/I don’t know you

@thalassus

And that was the problem! His arms flailed in wild gesturing–there was no meaning, aside from the wordless frustration coming through, punctuated by the strangled squeaks and ‘hmphs’ that signaled how difficult remaining silent was at that time. He could solve the problem by speaking–and trust him, he had words to say–but that seemed, well… It seemed wrong, using his voice to get whatever he wanted so easily. It’d make him like the others–or was the intent enough to make it different…?

Whatever, the moral debate was unnecessary and took attention away from his frustration towards Percy. Of which there was a lot, as his shrugging and flailing turned more to pantomime, pointing in the direction the hardheaded human intended to go, then making it clear the sort of deaths he’d find down that road. They were not nice. Did you get that Percy? That was the way the other sirens lay and–he was walking. Great.

Out went that energy as shoulders slumped, drama apparent as he stared after the foolhardy human for a moment before dragging his feet into motion. He couldn’t just leave the boy to die alone.