#nm yaps

"Ah, yes. I've been presented to them once my relationship with Ink has further solidified, as per custom. They're... interesting fellows, to see the least. It is not hard to see the familial resemblance.

The first time I saw them... well, they are interesting fellows, Top and Aster, as they call themselves. We were to reunite, alongside Ink, inside their Universe, to dine. Once I arrived alongside them, I presume Top wanted to... intimidate me, as he didn't want to let go of my hand while barking about how I was a thief of some kind. Ink didn't even separate us, merely laughing at my misfortune— and. Well. Then, Top started to laugh as well and pulled me inside the house— just to proceed to show me a concerning amount of... batons? Batons, ribbons and clown noses. He kept squeezing all of them, and they all had— different. Tones? He seemed pleased when I commented on it, but he didn't relent.

It— well. Such torment continued even as we finally sat down on the table, while Aster insisted on bringing us food —he is somewhat of the calmer sort, he didn't antagonize me as much as his husband did— and drinks. He kept asking me of what kind of money I had, whether I'd be able to provide for 'his naive little inkstain'— and when I assured that I had any hypothetical expenses well-thought, he just— excuse me.

He kept mixing both salt and sugar contents— I assume desiring for me to mistake one of them for the other, although such trickery didn't work on me. When Aster finally brought our dinner, Top brought up an hypothetical dowry, from whether side; he looked offended when I said Ink's nonexistent properties didn't interest me beyond their owner.

And— well, when he tried to insist with some gold as a wedding gift or what-not, I had to explain to him that if that thing happened with the dowry intent, I was to be compromised to give Ink a child for each set of hundreds— he. Ahem. They found it particularly... hilarious.

"Ah. It is... hard to describe, how and when exactly their charms... made an effect, as to say.

It was a few moons after our truce took place, I would say. Or— perhaps after? Before? All I am aware of is that their... image started to appear with startling frequency in my mind, as a melody would. Or perhaps a daydream.

Although, perhaps I'd be able to say it began with how I— I couldn't help but notice some things, you see— I assume Ink already had some sort of intention in mind. He used to cross his legs just so, and— ah. No, it was not—

It— It perhaps began with the way he didn't cower from me, even if he had given me his leash, accepting of what fate would befell him if my view on him grew... Negative. It is odd, you see— usually, I can intimidate people with a show of my aura, if not by the appearance of myself alone. But him... Someone that was unaffected— no, someone that was aware of the kind of person I was, yet still chose to retain their spirit...

It is no fault of mine that fate followed the course it did. He's... remarkably charming."

Alt phrasing ↓

How many times have you and Ink kissed?

"Hm. While I do enjoy the process of keeping count of things, as according to my nature, I must admit that the exact number of such affections have already left me long ago. If I was to guess, however... A thousand, perhaps?"

I mean,, what's.... Life like with ink???

Assuming I got the timeline right 😔

"...I shall allow you the mercy of ignoring your first attempt at contact. Life... I am under the assumption you're knowledgeable about the tryce made between the Protector and I. It is only courteous to give you an answer.

Life with him... It can be barely called shared. Secrecy dooms us so, you see. If I am to avoid impeding his alliance with the Stars, and the Omega Timeline, I cannot properly indulge on him, lest they are to suspect a link between the two of us.

I am under the belief that it is... adequate, however. Our meetings are regular, and, if he's in good humour, they double in frequency. We share a bed, if able— and we feign enmity, when the inevitable happens and we are to fight against one another with our teams in toll.

It is... odd, to learn to expect a hand over mine. I'm no child, and yet—

"...Such a complex question. What does one see in the sunset? If you've thought about the question, you may mention the colors, perhaps the cold, the yellow that yields to darkness. And yet— I would presume it goes beyond. You do not love it by its traits alone, but by their expressions in a single counterpoint.

The way they move, for a start— that is easier to explain. Physicality... I've learned the way in which their scarf moves just so; it is appealing, yes, but it's not just that.

Their laughter... It is charming in its own, but how do I mention it without praising the way of their voice— the skill in which they braid their words, ever so easily? The way in which they make me desire, in the way a man desires for both the starred sky and the roof to cover it?

Oh, or maybe their colors. His eyelights are quite a delight to see, don't you think? The darker shade of his painted cheek, the obsidian black of their palms...

The convergence of all pieces in one whole.

But then, there are other feelings that one can only learn with touch— the sensation of them in my arms, the ease in which they slot closer. The defiant way in which they do not cower when my tentacles raise just so, almost cheeky— and—"