albinomilksnake | Open RP: Smutty nonsense

[Vehiron doesn't have a problem with spying on his fellow Magisters. He doesn't have much of a problem with anything, actually, except maybe for boxes, or closets or cramped spaces and heights, and, of course, when people look at him All Wrong.

And Adrasteius always does: judges and pushes him, threatens to ruin his fun or lock him up somewhere cramped enough to make his skin itch. It's frustrating, and irritating, and turns his thoughts darker than he means for them to be.

--well, that's not true. They're as dark as always, it just pushes him to act on them, instead.

It's just around sunset that he slinks off to the gardens just outside of Murder Row, hoping to catch sight of Adrasteius meditating after a long day of stale bureaucratic banter.]

[Adra's sitting there, on a bench, his legs folded up one under the other. It had been a trying day in council, as he had spent the better part of two hours arguing passionately about the situation in the Ghostlands. Supplies were scarce, and the people stationed there needed relief. The council had mostly yawned in response.

Their yawns had deepened when he switched tactics to discuss the matter of the enormous orphan population, and the strategies he had developed to ameliorate the problem. Plans for an orphanage were shrugged at; ideas for a banquet were met with interested looks until Adrasteius mentioned the purpose; etc.

In other words, it was all just business as usual.

His mouth twitches in irritation as he sits, reviewing the meeting's many injustices and indignities. Vehiron's bored, sneering face is prominent among that review.]

[And Vehiron's hands, nails sharp with malice, digging heavy gouges into Adrasteius's shoulders from behind.]

Long day again, Bloodspeaker?

[Easy mission, easy money. Chloe's run harder jobs with her eyes closed, but never with someone new to the business. Not that Kirk isn't capable (he is, undeniably so) but in this case she's quick to shoulder the bulk of the lift work for herself, leaves the distraction to Jim, and meets up with him no more than ten minutes later at the entrance to the museum with her hands in her pockets despite the knowledge that somewhere off behind her, there's a silent alarm blaring out in distress.

Casual as she looks on the way out the door, it's not until they get into the alleyway across the street that the rush of adrenaline finally hits as a cop car passes by, and she drags him roughly out of sight into the shadows.]

[Adra cripples under the pressure of Vehiron's weight, hissing in pain.]

Yes. Largely because of you.

[He squirms, trying to get away from Vehiron's grip.]

Get off of me.

[Adrsteius's fidgeting means nothing; Vehiron might be frail, but Adrasteius is like glass by comparison. He holds him fast, leans in close.]

I'm only saying hello to a fellow city servant. It'd just be rude if I left now...

Edited 2013-03-29 08:48 (UTC)

You've said hello. [he squirms, hissing.] Besides, don't you think calling yourself a servant of anything is a little much?

[He catches himself against her, against the rough wall of the alley with a laugh, adrenaline making him reckless, in too good of a mood, and he doesn't even spare the cop car a glance before he's running a few fingers feather soft over her hip.

It's all joking tone and wide, bright grins] Well, that's not what I thought we came here for.

[And the amusement doesn't fade, and the question he asks is just for the sake of asking, of making sure. Because he doesn't actually have a doubt in his mind that she's gotten it. She's better at this than he is, he after all, kept getting caught. That may have been half of the point, but Kirk always had a problem of gloating far too early]

You get it?

Would you prefer it if I called everyone else mine? [There's something wholly satisfying about Adrasteius's writing: the curled tips of his ears, the huffs of frustration caught up in his throat.

He loves it, and he's more than happy to drink it in.]

I would prefer it if you got the hell off of me! [he tries to wrench his body away, growling.]

[His expression is returned, easily; there's a thrill in the whole thing-- no matter how small the job-- that makes her feel alive, makes the whole act of drawing breath worth it, and the fact that his profile is just inches away from her own, caught up in the same swell of emotion, only adds to it.]

Nope.

[Given that Adrasteius has all the strength of a sparrow dying in the winter cold, Vehiron doesn't have any trouble keeping that from happening.]

Try again, Magister. Maybe if you ask nicely.

Ow.

Ow.

--Okay ow.

[Garrus flinches beneath the press of her her fingers, the bundled bit of gauze propped up against the fractured bits of his exoskeleton left exposed on the right side of his brow. He's not in as bad a shape as he was just after Shepard--

Well, he's had time to recover, anyway. Physically. Everything else is unnecessary given the circumstances. He's tried, from the first moment his wounds eased up, to get enough of a view of the landscape to pinpoint just where they are, but it's an exercise in futility and he knows it. ]

You know it wouldn't kill me if you skipped this for a day.

Or five.

You need to heal. I am only trying to optimize the process.

[ it's a simple statement, direct and efficient, but there's the faint hint of something else beneath it. it isn't much, just shy of being urgent - but it's as close as she ever comes to expressing anything.

he needs to be physically healthy to deal with the new environment, survive off the land as they'll (he'll) soon have to when the ship's supplies deplete. but that's something simple and straightforward; mend wounds on a schedule. keep cuts clean and hydrated, bones set and free of stress.

the emotional side is different. she doesn't know how to fix it. frustrated isn't the right word; at a loss, maybe, confused. she can't very well rely on him to adapt to the challenges of a new planet well when he's still thinking about the citadel.

she's working as she speaks, never pausing in her work tending to his injured brow, all his complaints aside. ]

Five days without proper treatment might leave the wounds susceptible to infection.

That was a joke, EDI. I wasn't serious.

[He's patient when he says it for more than just the fact that she's never been much for following sarcasm. Even when she keeps pressing in again with the gauze, he tolerates it without batting her away. They've been through hell together.

And they were the only ones that made it through to the other side.

Though given the dire circumstances (wrecked ship, uncharted territory, damaged supplies and lack of communication) that might not be the case much longer. Not that he plans on putting it out there like that. Just that--]

Besides, I've been through worse. This isn't the first time I've nearly lost my head.

Any luck with the ship today?

[ there wasn't any luck to be had in it. she didn't believe in luck, anyway, assuming she could believe in things; she wasn't entirely sure anymore. luck was an outlier among statistical probabilities.

statistical probabilities of them leaving this planet were very low; the outliers did not change that. she could say all of this, but instead she simply says: ]

No.

[ the lack of qualification says more than what she could manage to say intentionally. she's tired. it's not a state of being she's accustomed to. ]

Perhaps you should learn to duck.

[ humor is what organics do when they need to create false hope. she's learned that much, at least. ]

Ohh, not bad. Keep practicing and you'll be just as bitter and sarcastic as the rest of us organics in no time.

[It hurts when he laughs. He doesn't really mind. She's trying, at least. That's something.

He's heard it's not enough to want to survive, that quality of life is more important than the stubborn refusal to just give in and stop going, even if it's a losing fight. He never bought into it then, and he sure as hell doesn't now. They've got nothing, hope least of all, but his friends died getting them this far; like hell is Garrus going to roll over and forget that.]

Maybe tomorrow. You know how the subthermal routing system always got a bit touchy if you tried to go at it the wrong way.

[Garrus Vakarian, ladies and gentlemen. Implying he knows how to fix the ship's communications better than...the ship.]

Edited 2013-04-03 07:37 (UTC)

Serious?

[He has to ask because- He can't actually believe she didn't do it, though it's not like it was a wasted trip. The adrenaline rush alone is worth it, particularly because Kirk will never entirely grasp the point of monetary value. Credits work in a similar way, but the whole structure is pretty much obsolete, and in space? Completely useless.

This, this part here, is exactly what he was in it for, and he laughs a little, against the curve of her cheek]

The calibre of your company must have been greatly exaggerated.

[Given how close he is, she's anything but reluctant to press her cheek up against his, fingers digging down deep into her back pocket before tugging out a massive, clean-cut sapphire and waving it just in front of his eyeline.]

When am I ever serious, darling?

[He laughs, all low heat and takes a good moment to examine her prize. A pretty bit of rock, one that's certainly a rarity in his time- Over mined. He thinks some days she should start playing for keeps, but he's always been odd about collecting antiques.

He skims a hand over her vacated back pocket, all grins and sarcastic humour]

When it comes to your rewards? Always. I'm surprised someone didn't notice.

[And some days she does, honestly. No one ever said she couldn't keep what she stole so long as she kept to the objective.

Chloe leans back into his hand, curls her lips up into a slow, easy smile. Yeah, okay, she could get used to Jim running a few more of these in the near future.]

Are you implying I'm not good enough to steal without being caught? That's hurtful, you know.

holy water cannot help you now & a thousand armies couldn't keep me out

Edited 2013-04-09 00:01 (UTC)

Open RP: Smutty nonsense

MAKE DECISIONS FOR ME

I KNOW YOU TOO WELL

Chloebutt;

u do u do

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OK HERE WE GO

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post-ending, new planet, only survivors? doesn't have to be smut but JUST IN CASE...

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uh oh I am really sorry ha ha no I'm not that's a lie I'm not sorry at all

eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE

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terrible things are afoot here