#sunscathe

@sunscathe​   ›   for a moment , she’s staring &. it is completely intentional. awestruck is dragoness when scathing eyes rest upon boy vulpes ; how he’s grown in the few years they’ve spent apart , how she is just now acknowledging the way that shit eating grin of his makes gold dripped heart thump away in chest something wild. clear of throat , shake of sunlit crown. yang simply reaches forward &. brushes bangs from his face. ❛ you’re such a hot mess. ❜ emphasis on hot.   ›   unscripted.

being looked at wasn’t a new feeling in the slightest, he’d come to memorise the instinct that came with being gazed upon, despite having no means of returning it. fox guessed where another person’s eyes were from where he heard their voice, and wouldn’t know the proper location of someone’s eyes unless he knew them really well. wells of aura were normally located very close to the eyes, and he could see where yang’s were, could probably guess she needed it there when her eyes changed colour. he’d been told they were purple, one of the colours he could barely remember from when he still had sight. he could compare it to someone with a purple aura, but at the same time auras seemed to have a wavelength all of their own, like the shade of it kept shifting tonal values depending on mood. when fox thought about what yang’s eyes might have looked like, he’d been reminded of desert flowers, the kind of rarity that had endured the harshest conditions imaginable and had still bloomed regardless.

he’d been right, when he said she would turn her pain into strength. he knew she would.

it was hard to believe their last times together were spent in melancholy. yang was still recovering, and fox was leaving for shade. despite their jovial demeanours, it had been hard to shake the feeling of an inevitable goodbye. and now here she was, as bright and vibrant as ever even when simply relaxing on his bed in cfvy dorm. it’s a barely used piece of furniture, there for when fox needed to sleep and nothing else. he had spent so much time outside of the city lately he didn’t even use it for “ entertaining ” guests anymore. yet it felt strangely homey, more like his comfortable mattress back in beacon when yang joined him.

he’d been blowing his bangs out of his face every few intervals of his scroll browsing, listening to the latest news and all the while trying to remember the last time he’d had a haircut. it had grown out to the point where once it had gotten to annoying, he’d simply tied it into a bun at his nape, but stray wisps would linger too close to his face to be able to concentrate sometimes. another inhale, but let go once he felt fingertips trace his hairline, and for a moment he was reminded of exactly how touch starved he’d been the last few weeks of mission after mission after mission. the violence of grimm and the pain they incited couldn’t always remind fox of what it was like to be human, but this   ...   fox couldn’t remember the last time he’d been treated like something breakable. the tenderness of the action was enough to startle him, and if she peered close enough might have noticed the darkening flush on warm skin. a somewhat nervous huff was easily blanketed by childish retort, familiar   (   safe   )   flirting.   ‘   yeah   ...   well,   it takes one to know one.   ’

what are you,   six   ?

that sounded like a defence mechanism.

ANGST STARTERS ! ✿ not accepting. @sunscathe​ has whispered:  i don’t want you to be alone.

She knows LONELINESS   ───   It’s the familiar yet bitter taste ‘pon her tongue, the ashen shadow following her every step, the lingering specter curling frigid fingers around her heart during her slumbering hours. A creature as OLD as she, who has spent the entirety of her elongated existence within the confines of the sacred woods, does no longer suffer because of solitude: she has learnt how to appreciate the silence conquering her ears, has eventually learnt how to thrive in the absence of friends and foe and, ultimately, has ensured to never allow her heart to ever weep over the DESOLATION that has characterized her existence ever since she can properly remember.

This is why Yang’s words feel like HONED DAGGERS against her skeletal ears. Ahri is well aware that the she-dragon is genuinely concerned about her current situation and this easily elicits a sense of puerile guilt within the confines of her suffocating ribcage  ;  she wants to be a positive presence in the other’s life, a STERLING LUMINESCENCE that can illuminate and comfort her when the sun no longer shines, a SOOTHING WARMTH that will protect her from the winter that lays ahead of her path. With a quick yet goofy movement, the she-fox crawls closer to the taller woman in pursuance of loosely wrapping her arms around the other’s silhouette, holding her close and tightly, NUZZLING her cheeks together and allowing a boisterous purr to loudly thunder across her breastbone. She won’t be alone, it matters not how long it takes Yang to complete her mission   ──   She won’t be alone for as long as she can cling onto the MEMORIES of their days spent together. 

@sunscathe​   /   ❛ what happens when we run out of yellow , huh ? ❜ yang jests , playful exhale of dragon smog as she holds ren’s hand , applying a new coat of polish to once chipped nails. like she has room to talk anyway ; the green on her thumb is starting to slowly chip as well , but this isn’t about her ! this time. ❛ y ‘ keep chipping them every mission ‘ an we just might. ❜   /   unscripted.

to her jest lotus replied with a casual shrug, difficult from their position lying across the lounge, arm dangling off and grasped for yang’s artistry. though ren had been occupied with a novel for the first two nails or so, they’d since placed it on the floor, content to lie down on their side and watch yang work. head pillowed upon shoulder, face partially obscured by cushion and ebon tresses they could watch the pretty furl of yang’s lashes when she looked down, wait for the endearing little tongue poke she did when she concentrated particularly hard, watch sunlight stream and glint of jewelled scales peeking out from under clothes. they almost hadn’t caught her sentence, content to simply watch and listen to the sound of her voice without replying. they’d done it before. the lotus was usually so observant, they concluded that in moments of peaceful respite such as this they’d earned a few moments to mindlessly gaze upon their girlfriend’s beauty, crooked smile quirked by dextrous motion of each hand. she didn’t have to worry about the green polish running out so fast, maybe ren could borrow some of hers until they could restock.

‘   i don’t know what you’re accusing of your graceful and delicate partner, qin'ai de.   ’   tone like silk, honeyed mischief as warm roseate eyes fell upon orchid gaze. they fell down to her own hand, as if to prove some point, but rose once more without moving from their lounging position. they couldn’t very well adjust without changing a ruined manicure, and yang had worked so very hard too. golden lacquer bright, like the yellow of a sunflower field, of sunsets, and bumblebees. the colour of lemonade, and gold, and yang’s hair in daytime. ren’s favourite colour, and she knew it too. there was something about such a simple act that could reinvigorate them, wipe a clean slate where the tire of mission after mission after mission had left them heavy with resounding aches in their bones. did they enjoy the manicure ? or were they more enthralled with an excuse for yang to hold their hand ? to carry with them artistry she had worked so hard on ? who knew ? yellow made ren happy.   ‘   they never chip when i’m on a mission.   ’   the colour was ... mischievous, sickly sweet. the colour of adventure, of happiness, laughter.

‘   they chip when i’m unclasping your body chains.   ’   debonair smile, an easy wink from petaled hue.   ‘   this is your fault.   ’

and yang was their yellow.

@sunscathe​   /   yang’s silent as she curls onto their shoulder , golden expressionism warped &. veiled by the cascading of starlit gossamer. she’s not willing to talk about what bothers her just yet. but she is content just holding their hand to ground herself.   /   unscripted.

it must be cloudy.

many a time ren had wondered how exhaustive it was to be bright, and burning, and loud. how much energy did it take to be your own personal sun? it must have been tiring, a herculean effort to carry both your own burdens and those you held dear. it was just what people like yang tended to do, what she’d do without thinking, and without protest even from those she tried to protect. they knew she brushed her own problems aside, believing them minuscule in contrast to other people. ren liked to believe they’d been paying attention, catching on the subtleties that might break their own heart to realise. yang had been reliable all her life, because she had to be. she had to be in control, because of how much she had no control over. she needed to be depended upon, because who was she if she wasn’t needed ? maybe ren still hadn’t found the right words to tell yang that they loved her without needing anything from her, without needing to be taken care of. they would love her, even if she decided that she no longer loved them back. that it was not, by any means, conditional.

her vulnerability, this weakness, was a choice. to be allowed to be taken care of ? that was a sign of trust. it would never be lost on ren how difficult it was for yang to drop her heart in someone’s hands and expect them not to drop it, to leave the bloodied organ behind. she held trembling might of mountains in grip and yet they held her like molten gold, that would easily slip through their fingers. ren pulled up their joint hands, kiss laid to the tops of her knuckles. they knew all too well that some emotions need not be dealt with immediately by flaying oneself open, but by companionably silence, the inhale of another’s breathing to focus on. a hand rose to bowed crown then, laying across the back of the lounge and gently carding through golden tresses, no attempt to build up dialogue but the steady of hum of some long forgotten mistrali tune. this was their equilibrium, the steady lull of yin’s wave - like lullabies to ease pains from their yang’s blistering nova. they’d remain, until the storm had been weathered, until the dawn had breached the ever elusive horizon, and until the clouds parted for clear skies once more.

          @sunscathe​ ; “  for once in your goddamn life, let me take care of you before you make it worse.  ”

          there’s an instinctive flinch away from dragoness as she reaches for the gash in assassin’s temple, hair stuck to skin as crimson paints his skin and colours pale complexion a muddy red tone the longer it sits there undisturbed. it’s nothing new, to be met face to face with the blood that should remain hidden away. most people have enough of a soul left to protect them, he supposes. have enough of their being still intact that scrapes and cuts are a rare occurrence. in mercury’s experience, anyway. those people are so... bright. so blinding that he can’t look at them for longer than a few moments, can’t be near them so long as he wants to maintain his stubborn lack of vulnerability. yang, though? she’s brighter than most. but in a different way. not quite burning like fire but just as bright, just as furious when she wants to be. when she lets herself be. mercury thinks that maybe the two are more similar than he initially allowed himself to think. 

          not that that matters anymore. not as mercury black allows yang to push him back down to sit atop the desk, as he allows her to brush silvery hair out of the way and inspect the still  oozing cut. hands are tight as fists at his sides, arms trembling as he forces himself to stay put. he should snap back, should tell her he’s fine because he’s always fine. but mercury doesn’t do any of those things as his tail curls ‘round himself and he stares into nothing - refusing to make eye contact or allow himself to look yang in the eye. why? he doesn’t know. isn’t sure anymore. part of him doesn’t want to face up to the fact that he thinks he trusts her enough to be near now, doesn’t want to think about the fact that mercury wants to lean into heated hands and warm skin as it brushes ‘gainst his own cold features. he doesn’t fight as yang tucks hair behind his ear, or as she brings a cloth up to clean dried blood from his visage. doesn’t fight it as he feels his own chest swell with... something. 

GRAVE SUGGESTIONS meme starters ! ✿   not accepting. @sunscathe​​  has whispered:  ‘  i’d like to stay like this for awhile.  ’

Saturated with TENDERNESS to the very brims of its primordial existence, her heart is naught but a LUMINESCENT CHRYSALIS where all INCARNADINE RADIANCE is nurtured until it can finally become something beautiful yet ephemeral, a  (  metaphorical  )  butterfly ‘pon whose fluttering wings her love will fly in pursuance of always reaching Yang, no matter how vast the distance that separates them. Generous breastbone bubbles with each fervent beat of her ichorous muscle, a desperate plea to abandon this cage of flesh and bones in pursuance of laying itself to rest within the ribcage of the she-dragon, where it belongs  ;  it matters not how fleeting their moments together might be, the WARMTH incited by the other’s presence is something that the foxen creature can arduously ever be satisfied with  (  she’s a greedy little thing, an EARTHLY GODDESS that has starved for so long and that now is barely capable of containing the AMOROUS HUNGER that treacherously howls in the most profound depth of her being  )  . 

UNPROMPTED LETTER FOR THE FOX ! ✿   always accepting. @sunscathe​  has whispered:  holds her hand. that's it , that's all a tired yang wants right now.

The ANCIENT VULPINE is well aware that many are the SECRETS buried within the most profound obscurity of Yang’s ribcage, so deep that the warm rays of the glistening sun will never reach them, so deep that no seed will ever grow   ─    No flower will ever bloom. This is why, in spite of the plethora of curious questions that oftentimes occupies the expanse of her mind, Ahri always does her best in pursuance of suffocating any inquiry that might create a sense of discomfort within the heart of her beloved  ;  it matters not how tight and strong their bond is, the she-dragon still has the right to protectively VEIL parts of herself, especially if the aforementioned parts have yet to stop bleeding and weeping. 

Dainty fingers are thus gently intertwined with hers, her hold delicate yet tight enough to let her SUN know that she’s there, that SHE WILL ALWAYS BE THERE, no matter what happens within or outside the confines of these SACRED WOODS. This is the exact moment in which peaches-&-cream features soften and lighten, in which her skeletal ears come to flatten themselves against her skull and in which her own silken lashes flutter below half-mast, as if to purposely and consciously blind her vision from anything that might steal her attention from Yang, from the fervent beating of her heart, from the scorching touch of their joined hands. Not a single word is vocalized   ──   Ahri finds no reason to part her tiers, if not in pursuance of leaning close enough to plant a GENTLE KISS ‘pon the she-warrior’s cheek, as she lingers against her tanned skin for a few seconds before eventually finding a cozy refuge in the crook of her neck. 

Does a FLOWER ever forget the soil ‘pon which it has grown  ? Does a WEAPON ever forget the warm ichor that has first blemished its beauty  ?