supernova

This one, this one, his stomach churns repeatedly and excitedly. This one knows what he is doing, and in return, so doe Tighnari. He taunts and imitates, mimics that coyness that's found on the vice captain's tongue and lips alike. This is not an eye for an eye, this is their way of making acquaintances and to feel out what most shy away from. Most share drinks either way, so why not up the stakes? Alochol, poison. Is there truly a difference if one puts the two next to one another?

Slowed heart rate, curious eyes and physical contact that feels just a little too warm in the Sumeran forests; like this, it's almost as if they are breathing into one another, eye to eye under circumstances that would have sent most into a frenzy. Not Tighnari, not Lohen. Him with his equally amused gaze that so quickly follow through with the invite. Come closer, no need to ask twice. Finish it with me, no need to question it or himself. After all, it is simply a a drink between ... companions, and a drink shared in scenarios that have occurred before. More people have drunk themselves senseless to that of liquor and spirits, stumbled over their words in utmost delusion as they consider themselves capable of speaking. Morons. Intolerance. Not here, no, fort while the scenery is so familiar to tales that have been spun before. The comfort of one's own quarters, lowered guard (oh, he gets it now, gets it at the way that the captain takes is so effortlessly; it's meant to knock him out, a sweet slumber that comes not from the valberry but the mistflower essence), is all different.

Because it's them.

And it's Tighnari's lips parting with a hushed, silken chuckle as he witnesses the sip and the touch against his own hand. Precuation, prevention, success (that antidote is not for Tighnari, no, and he's so happy to see that the tables will back around).He doesn't let eyes fall down, no, they are far too occupied on him. The sight before him that matches his slowing heartbeat so well.

"You," the tighnarian almost coos as he leans closer, closer against Lohen and closer to the parted lips that graze his own. Stronger, more prominent, and right against his own lips that dip against the vice captain's for a moment (oh, his body is weighing him down, there's no fighting it). Resembling a drunken kiss, it's proof and demand, one last nudge for him to show Lohen just how well he knows this game of plants and poison (oh, how close he is to him, fingers lazily tangling with Lohen's in that grip; he can sleep like this); "... got me... mist...ower..."

That seemed to have been enough, if the wanton near drunken kiss was anything to go by. Tighnari may be pliant under his hold but he still spurs himself further to demand of Lohen. Demand his attention is rewarded to his speech rather than his mouth and Lohen cannot stop him.

"... got me... mist...ower..."

And with that his head slumps to the vice captain's shoulder. Lohen stares at the flat ears before bursting into a quiet laugh. Incredible, out of everything he could have said, the name of the plant the poison is extracted from was what the ranger last conveyed before sleep. Tighnari feels incredibly warm against him, almost like an hearth on a winter night. It's pleasant, he can't help but to let his fingers thread through hair strands, lazily coaxing him further into slumber.

"Wow-" It's murmured against an ear, a light scoff as he watches it twitch slightly from his breath. "-you guessed it chief."

Against his better judgement, he dares to leave a small kiss to the top of the tighnarian's head. A gesture far too gentle for the likes of him, even surprising himself in the process. He justifies it as a reward, a little something for Tighnari having guessed correctly. Whatever fondness he's experiencing should be left to be addressed much later down the line, for now, it's just caring between comrades.

Slowly he moves his head to peer over at the bed. Fortunately sumerian huts are far less complicated than any housing in Mondstadt, the bed is easily within reach. Taking a hold of the antidote- he can't help but to secretly mourn the loss of the others fingers- he leaves it at the desk before shifting his hold to pull Tighnari to lay completely over him. It's only then that he hoists him by his legs, being careful to bend back so the other won't fall from him.

Tighnari's laid upon his bed without any ceremony, although Lohen's mindful enough with how falls given his tail. It occasionally flicks around, hitting the side of his leg as he properly moves the tighnarian to rest comfortably. At last, he's left only to stare at the aftermath of his own doing. The ranger lays peacefully, near content in his slumber. Gloved fingers slowly trace over the others brows undoing whatever frown there may have been. He should probably warn the other rangers not to come for a while, perhaps the rest was more needed than wanted.

His gaze then flickers back to the antidote at the table. Even though Lohen has long grown immune to 40 winks, he should still see if it has any effect on the concoction. After all, Tighnari had deliberately picked it for this, he should at least honor the effort. Taking a hold of the vial, he doesn't do any of the steps the tighnarian had done before, choosing instead to down it in one go without thinking.

Ah.

It almost brings a smile to the tighnarian's features, almost, there the vice captain makes himself known. What a strange and totally unexpected surprise – he, however, chooses not to lay it on as thick as that, that far too intrigued sarcasm that flows so easily in the presence of those that find it in them to match what he has to offer. Come on, should a forest ranger truly believe that a gift is just left out in the open like this? Should he, truly, find it in him to believe that the strange shadow covering cracks one hasn't bothered with fixing are suddenly whole? It's entertaining though, the way the entire scene plays out. A gift, anticipation, arrival. Here comes the mastermind, and the one who has walked into the web welcomes him, teal tinted gaze settling so quickly on the approaching knight. There he is indeed, in all his eccentric glory.

Tighnari, of course, chooses not to speak too much on the topic. He doesn't spill the cues offered by the forest, nor does he find it in him to admit the reasons for the hunch and the trusting sip. Had it been anyone else offering such a gift, he would have poured it out on the floor. He doesn't bother with others. Doesn't find it in him to acknowledge the potential try of combining ingredients they don't understand. Lohen is different. Lohen is fun and wise, intrigued by knowledge and willing to show what he can learn. Still, Tighnari doesn't speak of that either, that praise that a part of him wishes to offer. He saves it, instead savoring the tea with another slow sip, as if showing off right before the vice captain that he dares to drink it. Dares to indulge in whatever might be lingering within the tea, and those eyes remain on his own red-tinted ones.

Look here, those cunning, playful eyes beam. You don't scare me.

The cup held so effortlessly within fingers as he, with a slow blink turns towards his company. It's a good thing he enjoys the tea, so that the humored expression can drown within the lingering taste and against the edge of the cup; You intrigue me.

Tighnari isn't ashamed to admit that he finds such amusement in Lohen, nor is he ashamed to admit that it's fun to find himself in company of someone like him. Witty. Interested. Present. Him, with those eyes that almost shimmer in moments where something new could happen or where something new does happen. A firm grip of a wrist, the jest of a bite – tea left in the open.

How is it?

"Horrendous," Tighnari responds warmly, tongue tracing in between lips as a means of calming the curving corners of his smile. It's a joke, clearly, for why would he enjoy something bad tasting the way he does here, with his slicked back ears and comforted wags of a lazy tail. One could almost think he'd want to bring the vice captain further into the hut, into the conversation and the moment itself. "Thank the Archons you chose the Valberries to make it better tasting ... I cannot say that Mondstadt is on my top three nations when it comes to brewing of tea. Liyue, on the other hand, has a wide selection of very interesting herbs, roots and plants – there is still some left..."

Twirling the cup in his hand, Tighnari comes to extend it towards the vice captain. He makes no move away from the desk where he leans, half-seated on the edge. Should Lohen want a sip from the cup, he will have to move closer to the forest ranger. The very one who has brought him to a stand-still before, and who seems to wish to repeat such heartwarming encounters. After all, this was one of his favorites, wasn't it? This very blend, with its far too many intriguing fragrances and tastes, that twirls so elegantly within the cup.

Yet, it's the unwavering gaze that catches Lohen. What he's met with is not annoyance or disapproval, it's that very same calmness he has come to associate with the ranger. This open invitation to continue to bring himself forth, an almost taunt, no, acceptance of Lohen's nature. Unafraid, intrigued, curious. Lohen finds that at the moment there's very little that would take him away from this hut.

"Horrendous,"

He doesn't even pretend to be offended. Not when his gaze lingers upon the quick sweep of a tongue- had he not been paying such close attention he would have missed that hidden curl upon the corner- ah, Tighnari truly is too fun. The languid sway of his tail, the slant of his ears, it's a slow but sure descent and yet the ranger remains alert. Lohen wonders what other concoctions from Sumeru would be the equivalent of his own that the tighnarian is managing to hold so well against.

"We're better known for our wine for a reason." In truth he could have said anything and it wouldn't have mattered, not when he's being so gently invited into his own trap. There's plenty of moments where the beat of his own heart is the only thing spurring him through. Be it during battle, be it under clapping thunder, there is nothing louder than his heart thrumming with excitement. "I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll bring something of Liyue for you to try."

And yet, in this very moment where everything is done in near tranquility, Lohen finds Tighnari's use of his own name far more louder and enchanting. A step, a hand gaining perch upon the desk as he all but crowds the tighnarian. What exactly is he aiming at he doesn't know, but he's not about to deny himself or Tighnari the thrill of it.

"How kind of you." It's said with a touch of amusement as he slinks closer between the others legs, hand coming to accept the very cup he'd left in offer. He hadn't used a large dose to begin with, he at least, should fair pretty well against the mixture without accusing sleep. And yet, he finds himself wishing that he was a bit more vulnerable than that. Whenever had he started to want to be met half way?

"Cheers." He downs what remains of the tea, the familiar sweetness of valberry quickly taking over and the surely to follow drowsiness accompanying it. But none of that is important. Not when his gaze is trapped upon the other, not when he can feel the warmth of breath over his face. Tighnari's own eyes accusing a fight to stay alert but really, Lohen won't let him go just yet. Not until he drinks it all.

A gloved hand comes to curl around Tighnari's own, keeping whatever antidote the tighnarian had found trapped between both their grips as the distance shortens.

"I don't know that we'll be much help in this regard," Lauma begins slowly, her fingers steepled together lightly in front of her. "As a rule, I've advised my people not to cross paths with the Fatui if they can help it." That much is true. Whether or not Lauma herself has followed her own edicts- well, now that's up for debate. "If there's another way we might help-?"

Nod-Krai was a hellish paradise, from biting winds, to unforgiving cold and the undeniable beauty of the moon. The abyss seeps through the land as if finding it's home in it's very soil. Where most would cower, Lohen nearly relishes in it's ferocity. Every day there's something new to learn, something new to test. Every being in the moon-blessed land was far sturdier and more feral than anything in Mondstadt. The people, much like the creatures, have braved far worse than winter, and far worse than hell, becoming living testaments that life is earned and fought for, not lived.

He gazes upon the moonchanter, expression unreadable despite the amicability. It's not that he doesn't trust her, but there is something about unwavering devotion that gives a certain edge to people. Lohen has no doubt Lauma is far more capable than she allows herself to show, and far more cruel should her kindness be wasted on someone.

"You've done quite well." A boring platitude but one that still needs to be spoken. These small intricate moments between two commands always calls for a level of near sugary compliments for easy communication. It's something Lohen tends to loathe, but for the moment, it's what works best with the situation.

"There's not much to do but to sit and wait." He's not at all being dismissive, merely stating the truth. For how else can they gauge the fatui's actions but to let them move as freely as they can under their gaze. "We'll ambush them when the time is right, until then you will have to try to act as normal as possible without raising their suspicions."

Still her lingering request. What other way can they be of help? Lohen finds himself frustrated, he's not the best at reassuring people, he speaks better with his spear. And yet, part of being a knight is to be this valiant pinnacle to be relied upon. Curse Varka for leaving him to deal with the equivalent of bureaucracy.