![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ Morning has come yet again.
Archangel, at times, fears that he has distorted upon the Consciousness Orb. He fears that what he is experiencing is nothing more than a delusion of his mind in order to remain sane in a dying and rotting world. Yet he thinks that if this were a distortion -- if he had become a Grotesque -- that he would have created a world where he could bed Dextera whenever he wants.
No, wait -- the world. He would dream of a world that is whole and clean and good. Would he be the Absolute God? Is that what his ruined self believe? In such a pretty little lie. Or maybe, his mind would regress and relive the past and -- he isn't sure. What would his Baroque truly be? What horrific shape would it be? ]
Sinistra.
[ He calls to the twin that lives with him instead. He's tired of these early morning thoughts. They come to him when he looks up at the ceiling in the dark. But he isn't in any pain. Of course, the pain of being speared on the Consciousness Orb faded from his senses after awhile, too. Maybe he is in some anguish without realizing it.
Archangel crawls into the bed that Sinistra's sleeping. He reaches his hand out to brush the hair out of the other's face and behind his ear, like they're actually lovers that do those sort of actions.
He's tired of his thoughts and wants to hurt Dextera. He's filled with unreasonable hate. He wants to hurt Dextera in ways that Dextera isn't even aware of, and that brings a little bit of peace into his heart. ]
Sinistra, wake up.
Archangel, at times, fears that he has distorted upon the Consciousness Orb. He fears that what he is experiencing is nothing more than a delusion of his mind in order to remain sane in a dying and rotting world. Yet he thinks that if this were a distortion -- if he had become a Grotesque -- that he would have created a world where he could bed Dextera whenever he wants.
No, wait -- the world. He would dream of a world that is whole and clean and good. Would he be the Absolute God? Is that what his ruined self believe? In such a pretty little lie. Or maybe, his mind would regress and relive the past and -- he isn't sure. What would his Baroque truly be? What horrific shape would it be? ]
Sinistra.
[ He calls to the twin that lives with him instead. He's tired of these early morning thoughts. They come to him when he looks up at the ceiling in the dark. But he isn't in any pain. Of course, the pain of being speared on the Consciousness Orb faded from his senses after awhile, too. Maybe he is in some anguish without realizing it.
Archangel crawls into the bed that Sinistra's sleeping. He reaches his hand out to brush the hair out of the other's face and behind his ear, like they're actually lovers that do those sort of actions.
He's tired of his thoughts and wants to hurt Dextera. He's filled with unreasonable hate. He wants to hurt Dextera in ways that Dextera isn't even aware of, and that brings a little bit of peace into his heart. ]
Sinistra, wake up.
[ Sinistra hates to sleep alone, so he barely sleeps at all. He's never slept alone before this place. His waking hours in the tower were endless, and before that...
Before that, there was always a warm body beside him. He and his brother were one, so he was never lonely. Never scared. Never haunted by the silence of night. In this place, he fears falling asleep and fears waking up. He has yet to decide if living is worth it or if returning to death is too unbearable. The scales are even in his mind right now.
It has taken all his will to stay in his own room every night. He may hate the Archangel in many ways, but their ongoing intimacy and his desperate feelings from his physical distance from Dextera lead to a struggle against the desire to crawl into the man's bed for comfort. It may be a cold comfort, but at least it is relief from his oppressive loneliness.
He is only partly asleep when the Archangel's weight rocks his mattress and a hand touches his face. He opens his eyes and looks up at him in the darkness, wondering if he too seeks comfort or to eliminate him from his space with his own two hands.
He brings his hand up and lets his fingers brush the back of the Archangel's hand. ]
I am awake... why are you...?
Before that, there was always a warm body beside him. He and his brother were one, so he was never lonely. Never scared. Never haunted by the silence of night. In this place, he fears falling asleep and fears waking up. He has yet to decide if living is worth it or if returning to death is too unbearable. The scales are even in his mind right now.
It has taken all his will to stay in his own room every night. He may hate the Archangel in many ways, but their ongoing intimacy and his desperate feelings from his physical distance from Dextera lead to a struggle against the desire to crawl into the man's bed for comfort. It may be a cold comfort, but at least it is relief from his oppressive loneliness.
He is only partly asleep when the Archangel's weight rocks his mattress and a hand touches his face. He opens his eyes and looks up at him in the darkness, wondering if he too seeks comfort or to eliminate him from his space with his own two hands.
He brings his hand up and lets his fingers brush the back of the Archangel's hand. ]
I am awake... why are you...?
Brother, have you heard from the Archangel?
[ dextera has tried to get in contact with him about an unusual question, and his impression of the archangel in this world makes him think that he would have received an answer by now. the only other person he knows who might keep up with the archangel is his brother, and so, this is who he’s turned to. ]
[ dextera has tried to get in contact with him about an unusual question, and his impression of the archangel in this world makes him think that he would have received an answer by now. the only other person he knows who might keep up with the archangel is his brother, and so, this is who he’s turned to. ]
[ dextera listens to his brother, his voice, but it doesn’t soothe him at all. he can’t explain it. there’s a restlessness in him that won’t leave him alone, and it’s an anxiety unlike the usual one that plagues him. ]
When was the last time you saw him?
When was the last time you saw him?
Awake?
[ That probably isn't the question that Sinistra is asking. He's probably asking why he is crawling in bed with him. His smile warps itself into a cruel sneer for a brief second before returning to his usual soft and warm one. ]
I'm merely thinking a lot of our world. I wonder if this is the world that the Grotesques see. I wonder if, perhaps, we shall be returned to our wretched state but Dextera will be separated from us. [ Archangel actually decides to be honest. It's for no other reason than to satisfy himself, however, rather than make any real connection with the Koriel. ] But... those thoughts are incredibly boring.
[ He calls them 'boring' because he has had them before while on the Consciousness Orb. It's just the same shit in a new world. He would like for his dark thoughts to at least attempt to give him something new to fixate on. Because, if he has to be filled with anxiety and pain, he would like the experience not to just be a revised version of old issues. ]
So, I want to do something fun instead. [ His thumb runs along Sinistra's bottom lip, emphasizing the word "fun." ]
[ That probably isn't the question that Sinistra is asking. He's probably asking why he is crawling in bed with him. His smile warps itself into a cruel sneer for a brief second before returning to his usual soft and warm one. ]
I'm merely thinking a lot of our world. I wonder if this is the world that the Grotesques see. I wonder if, perhaps, we shall be returned to our wretched state but Dextera will be separated from us. [ Archangel actually decides to be honest. It's for no other reason than to satisfy himself, however, rather than make any real connection with the Koriel. ] But... those thoughts are incredibly boring.
[ He calls them 'boring' because he has had them before while on the Consciousness Orb. It's just the same shit in a new world. He would like for his dark thoughts to at least attempt to give him something new to fixate on. Because, if he has to be filled with anxiety and pain, he would like the experience not to just be a revised version of old issues. ]
So, I want to do something fun instead. [ His thumb runs along Sinistra's bottom lip, emphasizing the word "fun." ]
[ He's right. It's not the question he has. That smile makes him wonder if he is about to smother him. He wouldn't be surprised. He's thought about doing the same to him, but it would be a pointless use of anger.
But then, the smile settles to the one he can never believe. He listens, quiet, staring at him with his large, dull eyes and taking his words in. Even if he doesn't like him, he finds the machinations of his strange mind interesting. If they're bound like this, struggling through amicability, he might as well try to learn how this man really works. ]
... It is possible. He could be separated. He could forget again... I would not be surprised. But I wonder if the Grotesque see anything at all. Anything but their own sins.
[ He often wondered if he ever saw the true world around him. How much was clouded by pain? By loneliness? By anger and sorrow? Everything, perhaps, had been skewed. ]
They are... because there is no answer to find.
[ He parts his mouth when the Archangel runs his thumb over his lip. He breathes out, reaching a hand up to touch his face. He's been laying here, lonely and awake. He'll accept any company he can get. ]
If you want to have me... you can. Maybe... to clear your head?
But then, the smile settles to the one he can never believe. He listens, quiet, staring at him with his large, dull eyes and taking his words in. Even if he doesn't like him, he finds the machinations of his strange mind interesting. If they're bound like this, struggling through amicability, he might as well try to learn how this man really works. ]
... It is possible. He could be separated. He could forget again... I would not be surprised. But I wonder if the Grotesque see anything at all. Anything but their own sins.
[ He often wondered if he ever saw the true world around him. How much was clouded by pain? By loneliness? By anger and sorrow? Everything, perhaps, had been skewed. ]
They are... because there is no answer to find.
[ He parts his mouth when the Archangel runs his thumb over his lip. He breathes out, reaching a hand up to touch his face. He's been laying here, lonely and awake. He'll accept any company he can get. ]
If you want to have me... you can. Maybe... to clear your head?
[ those are both true, but dextera can’t not take it personally. even on good days, the archangel’s irritation cuts at him the way no one else can. ]
I don’t know. I just don’t know. I can still feel echoes of his artificial Consciousness Orb. Or I could. Something feels wrong.
I don’t know. I just don’t know. I can still feel echoes of his artificial Consciousness Orb. Or I could. Something feels wrong.
I guess there's no way of knowing.
[ Archangel decides to leave the business of both of their twisting and lack of answers alone. It's something best not thought about. Besides, in the world they lived in, no one could continue living in it with some form of a Baroque. ]
You're being so kind. [ He leans his face lightly against the hand. Turning his face more, he gently kisses the inside of Sinistra's palm. ] Clearing my head is good. If I keep thinking like this, I might actually kill you.
[ His tone is even, calm, and could even be described as conversational. There is a soft smile painted on his lips as he threatens to murder him, but both of them know that's a risk they both are taking living with one another. But sometimes, it's nice to vocalize it. He kisses the inside of Sinistra's wrist before he leaves him.
It's only so that he can acquire a bottle of lubricant. ]
I really wish that you were Iris, Sinistra. I wouldn't have to waste my Chroma buying you nice things like this. [ Archangel openly complains as he returns to the bed. ] Maybe you can make a petition to the moons? [ So he says as he uncaps the bottle and pours the substance onto his hand. ]
Anyway, you seem troubled. Want to talk about it? [ His mood violently shifts about without his notice. He asks sincerely about listening to the other's problems as he prepares him. And really, for him -- what better pillow talk is there than hearing what is upsetting Sinistra? ]
[ Archangel decides to leave the business of both of their twisting and lack of answers alone. It's something best not thought about. Besides, in the world they lived in, no one could continue living in it with some form of a Baroque. ]
You're being so kind. [ He leans his face lightly against the hand. Turning his face more, he gently kisses the inside of Sinistra's palm. ] Clearing my head is good. If I keep thinking like this, I might actually kill you.
[ His tone is even, calm, and could even be described as conversational. There is a soft smile painted on his lips as he threatens to murder him, but both of them know that's a risk they both are taking living with one another. But sometimes, it's nice to vocalize it. He kisses the inside of Sinistra's wrist before he leaves him.
It's only so that he can acquire a bottle of lubricant. ]
I really wish that you were Iris, Sinistra. I wouldn't have to waste my Chroma buying you nice things like this. [ Archangel openly complains as he returns to the bed. ] Maybe you can make a petition to the moons? [ So he says as he uncaps the bottle and pours the substance onto his hand. ]
Anyway, you seem troubled. Want to talk about it? [ His mood violently shifts about without his notice. He asks sincerely about listening to the other's problems as he prepares him. And really, for him -- what better pillow talk is there than hearing what is upsetting Sinistra? ]
We will not know until it happens.
[ 'Until' not 'if'. Some part of him is sure he'll be separated again. Some part is sure he will have to live in that lonely despair no matter what he does. It's hard to be optimistic after the existence he's been bearing up until now.
He watches him, carefully, never sure if he will kiss or bite. They both hold the same possibilities. ]
I could say the same... though I think you know that without my words.
[ This is beneficial to him, too. Maybe he can sleep for once afterward.
The Archangel moves off the bed and Sinistra sits up to undress himself. It's haphazard - he's still a little stiff and clumsy about most things - but he does it quickly enough to be bared by the time the Archangel returns to him. He leaves his bedclothes strewn beside him on top of his blanket. ]
I would not make it so easy for you. You would wear me out. You will have to continue enduring the extra effort.
[ As much as he agreed to this, he refuses to be that easily accessible. He would rather be more inconvenient despite his typically easy agreement to welcoming this man into his body.
He leans back on his palms and parts his thighs for him and gasps softly as the cool gel touches his skin. He lets out a soft sound as he feels the Archangel's fingers slip inside him. ]
Mm... this place is too loud during the day and too quiet at night. You remember the sounds there, in the Neuro Tower... the echoes of G-- her. The sounds of the grotesque... the aching sounds of pain in the walls... All of that was my reality until now. But now it is too quiet and dark. My brother is not beside me. I have never slept this way. [ He tips his head to the side, seeming to look ahead at nothing. ] I have not had to sleep in years.
[ 'Until' not 'if'. Some part of him is sure he'll be separated again. Some part is sure he will have to live in that lonely despair no matter what he does. It's hard to be optimistic after the existence he's been bearing up until now.
He watches him, carefully, never sure if he will kiss or bite. They both hold the same possibilities. ]
I could say the same... though I think you know that without my words.
[ This is beneficial to him, too. Maybe he can sleep for once afterward.
The Archangel moves off the bed and Sinistra sits up to undress himself. It's haphazard - he's still a little stiff and clumsy about most things - but he does it quickly enough to be bared by the time the Archangel returns to him. He leaves his bedclothes strewn beside him on top of his blanket. ]
I would not make it so easy for you. You would wear me out. You will have to continue enduring the extra effort.
[ As much as he agreed to this, he refuses to be that easily accessible. He would rather be more inconvenient despite his typically easy agreement to welcoming this man into his body.
He leans back on his palms and parts his thighs for him and gasps softly as the cool gel touches his skin. He lets out a soft sound as he feels the Archangel's fingers slip inside him. ]
Mm... this place is too loud during the day and too quiet at night. You remember the sounds there, in the Neuro Tower... the echoes of G-- her. The sounds of the grotesque... the aching sounds of pain in the walls... All of that was my reality until now. But now it is too quiet and dark. My brother is not beside me. I have never slept this way. [ He tips his head to the side, seeming to look ahead at nothing. ] I have not had to sleep in years.
[ The Archangel doesn't say much about how he would wear Sinistra out if he actually was Iris. He only flashes him a smile that says that he agrees with him. He would let himself go crazy over the other's pheromones -- and not because it would actually drive him that wild but simply to be cruel. ]
I remember them. [ He commiserates with him as he moves his fingers in and out of him. His breath catches at feeling him just around his fingers, but he carries on with their intimate chat. ] I can't say I appreciate the quiet. It leaves me alone with my thoughts. But we already discussed them, haven't we?
[ His free hand wraps around Sinistra's arousal, gently stroking him and pausing occasionally to lazily rub his thumb against the tip. ] Sleep is rather overrated. I can't say that I really slept in the Neuro Tower, either. I suppose that makes us very similar... not having to eat, drink, sleep.
[ He smiles. ] We could only ever wait for him to give our life meaning.
I remember them. [ He commiserates with him as he moves his fingers in and out of him. His breath catches at feeling him just around his fingers, but he carries on with their intimate chat. ] I can't say I appreciate the quiet. It leaves me alone with my thoughts. But we already discussed them, haven't we?
[ His free hand wraps around Sinistra's arousal, gently stroking him and pausing occasionally to lazily rub his thumb against the tip. ] Sleep is rather overrated. I can't say that I really slept in the Neuro Tower, either. I suppose that makes us very similar... not having to eat, drink, sleep.
[ He smiles. ] We could only ever wait for him to give our life meaning.
…
[ dextera stares down at his device. his brother doesn’t seem half as concerned, and dextera wouldn’t really expect him to be. if the archangel doesn’t show up within another week, though, dextera will have to consider him gone. but that seems odd. it doesn’t seem right. ]
I don’t understand. Please tell me if you see him, brother.
[ dextera stares down at his device. his brother doesn’t seem half as concerned, and dextera wouldn’t really expect him to be. if the archangel doesn’t show up within another week, though, dextera will have to consider him gone. but that seems odd. it doesn’t seem right. ]
I don’t understand. Please tell me if you see him, brother.
[ Sinistra's eyes shut as small sounds leave his lips, listening to the Archangel talk. It's unfortunate how on level they are with each other about being in this world, as much as it benefits them in ways. ]
It feels suffocating when it is too silent... too dark. My chest hurts and my head spins. I am unable to rest.
[ His hips rock forward towards the Archangel's hand when he's touched, shivering. ] When I was small, I slept so often. I did not-- did not think I would miss it.
Ah... I guess that is true.
It feels suffocating when it is too silent... too dark. My chest hurts and my head spins. I am unable to rest.
[ His hips rock forward towards the Archangel's hand when he's touched, shivering. ] When I was small, I slept so often. I did not-- did not think I would miss it.
Ah... I guess that is true.
Page 1 of 5