#plaguewrites

Harth/Aysel: Distract-Someone Kiss

It was already a shitty day, as far as Aysel had been concerned. Stuck underground, far off from the stars or from the crisp ocean's breeze, she could feel herself getting more and more restless. Feeling increasingly trapped. Fingers drumming on her thigh, breezing through the rooms of this ancient temple to try and trick herself into thinking there was more space, stretching to prove she wasn't about to touch the ceiling, none of these things worked as well as she’d hoped.

It wasn’t made much better by having Harth assigned to her, something stupid about "not wandering alone" and a “buddy system” as if her god wouldn't keep her safe. As if Aysel wasn't the apex fucking predator of this stupid temple.

Harth had been...a hinderance, as much as Aysel didn't want to say out loud (more than twice). She couldn't really see, was kind of clumsy, she had to be led through the dark with precise directions or by holding her hand. Not to mention, every little thing startled her, which sometimes startled Aysel (not that she'd ever admit it) and that made the claustrophobia feel like it was setting in even faster.

Aysel led Harth until they found a large room - some sort of barracks for priests of a time past. It was taller than the other rooms they'd been in, with vaulted ceilings painted to look like the sky above, and for that Aysel gave a sigh of relief. But that would be short-lived, as Harth stumbled on, Aysel noticed something. Not that Harth could see, but there was a huge rat perched on the base of a torch affixed to the wall. Aysel could only imagine the ear-splitting sound a prissy house agent like Harth would make if she saw THAT creature. No, that would not do. This ONE moment of being able to breathe would not be ruined.

Before Aysel could think about a way to scare off the rat or get Harth's attention, the Lyrandar girl had already brushed her fingers against the torch, luckily missing the rat by a few inches.

Aysel acted before Harth could further inspect the torch's fastening, grabbing Harth by the arm and pulling her close. With a fluid motion, she cupped Harth's cheek, turning her head towards Aysel's. Goddamn, shame that nobody was around to see it, Aysel lamented briefly, because that was the smoothest shit she’s pulled since she got stuck with this party. Ishtar would have clapped.

The kiss was brief, chaste even! Aysel hardly even brushed their lips together before Harth sent her tumbling backwards with a shockingly strong push. Right, she worked metal. She would be stronger than a wet noodle. Harth's pink cheeks were almost cute, and her angry, flustered spluttering was kind of funny, it made Aysel wonder briefly if this had been her first kiss.

Thankfully the lack of light hid the flush of Aysel's own cheeks, and she'd never admit to her own pace quickening. She picked herself off the ground with a laugh, holding her hands up disarmingly. "Hey, jeez! Sorry. I needed to distract you; you know how it is."

Pointing to the torch, Aysel’s hand sparked with electricity, illuminating the rat clearly unhappy with the sudden light AND having to hear these two big, loud creatures make a fuss. Aysel flashed a toothy grin at Harth "Didn't have time to warn you away from that".

Linmir/Lylah (WITH Xiphos)

"You have a question" Xiphos stated, nodding her head at Lylah. Her hands were still around the (empty) glass, and though the Warforged had no face, her voice carried amusement, possibly a tinge of mischief. "You may ask". Linmir set her own glass down, leaning towards Xiphos "She can always tell when there's something on your mind, but like, yeah just ask whatever. We won't mind" she says with a fond smile. Lylah looked down into her mug, mortified that she'd been that obvious.

"Well" Lylah began, choosing her words carefully, "It's silly to ask - and and it's none of my business if you don't want to share but.." She lifts her gaze to look at the couple, feeling more stupid by the minute "Do you two kiss? Since Xiphos doesn't have a face, I mean. Augh, sorry"

Running her hand through her hair, Lylah only blushed when her question was met with laughter. Linmir's laugh was loud and sharp, like she could wield it with the same finesse as her rapier. Xiphos' laugh was more akin to music, flowy and inhuman but beautiful all the same. Both laughs were very dangerous, Lylah thought.

"That's it? God, I was expecting way worse" Linmir says. "Yeah, we kiss. It's just different." Xiphos leans in close, angling herself next to Linmir's ear and whispering. Despite having no face, she was incredibly emotive in her own way. The tilt of her head and the fluid way her shoulders dropped could tell Lylah that she was in trouble. Linmir only confirmed that suspicion, her grin widening and taking an almost predatory edge. Her eyes narrowed and Lylah heard her mutter "Yeah, I agree" before she abruptly stood.

Linmir rounded the table, as fast as always, much to Lylah's envy. But instead of teasing or roughhousing, Linmir grabbed Lylah's chin, her gloved hand guiding Lylah's head upward as she leaned down to meet her. The glove was smooth against Lylah's skin, as Linmir's hand drifted to her cheek. Linmir kissed with purpose, with fire, as if it would kill her to give anything less than her everything. Lylah reciprocated as best she could, matching every kiss and feather-light touch until Linmir finally pulled back. She looked over her shoulder to Xiphos while Lylah pretended like she wasn't trying to catch her breath. The Warforged seemed to light up, lovingly caressing Linmir's face as they swapped places with effortless grace. Lylah was still reeling from the first kiss before she realized what the switch would bring.

Cool, metal hands slid over her neck to cradle the back of her head and Lylah instinctively shivered, noting uselessly that Xiphos had etchings in her "fingerpads" not unlike fingerprints.

Smooth metal met Lylah's lips and on instinct she kissed back. Xiphos may not have had a mouth, but the slender fingers playing with her hair and the telltale feeling of Xiphos' magic building, like the sound of an orchestra tuning, echoing inside of Lylah's head were just as intense and passionate as Linmir's kiss had been. Lylah cupped Xiphos' cheek, making a surprised hum when the ghost of a kiss crossed her lips, and slowly pulling away she smiled crookedly at the two women. Linmir's sharp grin hadn't left her face and Xiphos brought a hand up to her faceplate, musical laughter soft but self-satisfied.

Bene & Rosen 13 (Hair Kiss)

It was early, an hour or two before the sun would rise, but Benediction preferred to be up at this time. The world was quiet, and the village was peaceful. There were no artisans working outside yet, no children yelling as they played, no marketplace hustle and bustle. It was nice, he could take his time getting dressed and stealing away into the forest.

He was fastening his cloak when he heard a choked sob. Behind him, in the spare bed was Rosenrot, the newest addition to his house. Her brow was furrowed, and her hands had the blankets in a white-knuckle grip, before another strangled cry escaped her. Benediction paused for a moment, staring at her. This was the sort of thing his mother was better at, but Philomena would still be asleep for another hour, and waking her would throw off her carefully maintained schedule. Briefly, Benediction wondered if he should leave Rosen alone, but a stuttering inhale tugged at his heartstrings and he knew if the younger girl woke up screaming again, it’d be bad for everyone.

Thinking back to his own childhood, Benediction tried to remember what his mother had done to soothe him. Carefully, he walked over towards Rosen, sitting on the edge of her bed. Yes, that was familiar. He laid a hand on her arm and gently, but firmly rubbed circles. “Rosen, you are having a nightmare. Wake up” he said softly, giving her shoulder a teensy shake. Big black eyes opened to meet his, still watery and full of fear, confusion. “You are in our home; it is safe here. It is winter, it is well before dawn and the day after tomorrow we are planning to make pancakes”.

Sitting up, Rosen scrubbed her eyes with a sleeve, considering her glasses before ultimately leaving them on the bedside table. “Sorry, Benediction” She croaked out, her other hand reaching out to hold the ends of Benediction’s cloak. “Did I wake you and Miss Philomena up again?” Her breaths were still quick and shaky, but Benediction remembered what step had been next.

He smooths her hair with his free hand and leans over, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Her hair smelled like shampoo and the sleep-wild locks escaping her braid tickled his nose. “I was already up, and Mother is fast asleep. You are okay Rosen. Do not rush your breathing”.