99 Ashan 719
Dappled sunlight filtered in through the swaths of cream colored silks that hung from the sky itself. They fluttered silently in the easy, quiet breeze as it drifted through them, undulating like the steady waves of the ocean itself. The world was reduced to a single, circular slab of smooth, unblemished marble that drifted through the sunny emptiness, comfortable in its singularity and regally draped in the flowing tapestry of silks.
The moment Kiwi stepped into his dream - maybe even before it - Magpie was aware of his presence without needing to look up from where he lounged on a large, circular bed centered upon the marble. Adorned in similar silken fabrics, the layered robes that Magpie wore hung loosely over his svelte frame. When he lifted from his reclined position, however, the long sleeves tightened around his wrists so that they did not flow in a similar way as the tapestries around them. As he left the bed, the clothing became fitted to his form.
“Thus far,” Kiwi began, long since having dropped the empty - especially when it came to him - pleasantries of greetings and casual conversation. “I have been unable to locate this… raggedy man of yours.” He stood, arms crossed and posture rigid, near the edge of the platform, silken banners lazily billowing behind him making him seem especially static.
“I see,” said Magpie. He sighed lowly, then as soon as he had gotten off the bed… he returned to it as if he simply couldn’t be bothered with the act of standing anymore. The blond biqaj stretched out on the luxurious sheets. He placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. He added in an airy tone of voice, “We’ll find him eventually again. I’m certain of it. Or… he’ll find me, perhaps.”
Bright eyes stared after him unblinking. “How can you be certain?” Kiwi questioned, remaining where he stood, a statue not entirely unwelcome to the dream’s scene, though his simple, grey clothes could have been a bit more elegant. If Magpie desired though, he supposed he could always… change them for the other man since they were within his dreamscape. Though a part of him felt that the abrogator might not appreciate such a thing, of the few things that Kiwi seemed to care about perhaps. Though he learned more and more of the Quacian dreamwalker, he still struggled to place exactly which parts of Kiwi were human and which were… otherwise.
“One simply knows these things,” he answered in a slightly playful manner. He rolled over onto his stomach, placed his hands under his chin, and looked up at the other man. “Aren’t you the one who always tells me to not… what was it… think so hard in this place?”
“In relation to-” Kiwi began but stopped, mouth open silently for a trill before it shut. Slowly he nodded instead, arms falling to his side in what was either defeat or a lack of interest. “Then I suppose I will trust your… intuition on this matter.”
“Thank you though,” mentioned Magpie. “I do appreciate you trying to find him regardless. I’ve been searching the Veil as well… and I don’t plan to simply stop. It’s merely I won’t fret about it either, I suppose. I’m so tired of fretting and so...” The blond rolled to his back once more, outstretching his arms, and exhaling in a weary sigh. He glanced over at Kiwi with eyes of mixed amber and blue, then he made the smallest of gestures for the other man to join him on the bed.
“So...?” Kiwi echoed, curious gaze fixed on Magpie’s as he seemed to glide across the floor, his movements deceptively graceful given how generally stiff he always seemed to be. He settled on the very edge of the bed, posture as precise as ever, hands folded neatly in his lap like some sort of wealthy child’s doll, expectantly waiting for clarification.
Magpie moved to his side. Comfort eluded him and it wasn’t due to the physical, as they were within Emea, but caused by a different nature of restlessness. He propped his head up with one hand, and with the other he smoothed out the blanket. “So…” he sighed again, then rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you’d understand, Kiwi.”
“Regrettably, there is much I do not,” agreed the other man.
The admission sounded easily enough, but then if there was one thing that Kiwi seemed especially keen on - it was the truth of matters: whether harsh or not, requested or not, comfortable or not. Magpie nodded. His gaze slid over Kiwi, similar to how he had looked at the abrogator when they’d first gotten to know each other. He tapped his fingers against the silk sheets, then he asked, “Do you…” he paused, gnawed on his lower lip, then decided, “...have your own proclivities?”
As expected, Kiwi frowned. “In what sense?” Magpie had a feeling that in any context, Kiwi’s answer was most likely the same.
Magpie hummed quietly. He glanced around his own dreamscape, as if to assure that it was indeed still his realm of influence. The biqaj moved closer, laying on his side directly beside Kiwi. He looked up at the other man and said, “Oh… well, you’ve mentioned it before. My proclivity as you put it, or however Miss Humming explained it.” The light of comprehension sparked in Kiwi’s otherwise empty stare. “Don’t you have… interests in such things like that?”
“Copulation with men, you mean?” Blunt as always - except when Magpie had a question about dreamwalking.
“Yes,” he answered plainly, though in a nonplussed tone of voice with an almost mockingly neutral expression.
“Not particularly, no,” Kiwi replied. “I understand the purpose of reproduction,” he continued, clearly interested in at least the concept of function if not partaking in the act itself. “But what benefit is gained from two men joining together?”
“Oh,” said Magpie as if in realization. He sat up and crossed his legs with his feet tucked under his thighs. “Well… it’s… I mean…” Kiwi raised a brow. “It’s as much benefit as- as- well, more so than reproduction even, perhaps. It’s like- you see- it’s, uh…” Magpie scratched the back of his head as he tried to find the correct way he wanted to answer the question. “Isn’t there anything you enjoy doing, just for the sake of doing it?”
“Just for the sake of doing it?” Kiwi repeated. He mused over the question for a few trills before blinking once. “No.”
“Nothing?!” Magpie’s voice rose in pitch accidentally while Kiwi continued to stare at him, eyes widening just slightly at the accidental outburst. He cleared his throat. “Well, what about… you’re Quacian, haven’t you ever attended a blood prayer?”
“I have.” He didn’t elaborate but seemed open enough to listening to the point Magpie was trying to make.
“Did you bleed for the Wounded God?”
“I bled to maintain appearances,” Kiwi shrugged.
“You never felt… connection with His Avenging Lord?” inquired Magpie.
Trills passed, bordering on a chime, before Kiwi, brows knit in contemplation, finally replied. “No.” Magpie still wasn’t sure when Kiwi was lying - or if he even ever actually lied at all -, but for the first time since he’d met him, he felt confident the other man was telling the truth. Perhaps it was the way his grey-green eyes grew distant and thoughtful, or maybe it was how long he’d taken to reply. Either way, it was a sincere response.
“Then…” began Magpie. He placed a hand on Kiwi’s thigh. “Do you feel at all? You can feel me, here, yes?”
Kiwi glanced down at the intruding hand, seemingly unbothered by its presence, before his stare settled on Magpie’s face. “I can physically feel sensations, more or less, yes.”
Magpie’s hand moved up slightly, then his grip tightened and he asked, “You can feel pain?”
“Not in the same way most experience it,” Kiwi acknowledged, stare steady and unconcerned. “But I know when something is painful, yes.”
“What do you mean?” It was Magpie’s turn to seek clarification.
“Have you ever been wounded in a dream that you can recall?” Kiwi returned. “Not as you are now but… truly unconscious.”
“Yes, of course,” answered Magpie. His hand eased somewhat and he caressed Kiwi’s thigh, though his gaze remained on the other’s in eye contact.
“It is similar, in effect, to that. I know there is pain, but I do not… ‘feel’ it.”
“Then what about pleasure?”
“Pleasure?” Kiwi repeated, a slight frown on his lips. “Is that what you are attempting to elicit with…” he nodded towards Magpie’s hand, expression curious but otherwise void. “This?”
“Well, not exactly,” answered Magpie. He lifted his hand, then set it back on the other man’s thigh. “I could try more?” Kiwi raised a brow at that. “But… does it even feel like anything at all to you?”
“It feels like there is a hand on my leg.” Kiwi paused, still frowning. “Is it meant to feel differently?”
Magpie frowned as well, in an almost mirror of the abrogator’s expression. He hummed lowly, then said, “No, but… what about when I branded you? Do you truly not feel anything but the physical sensation itself?” Did he even feel that much?
“Do you mean to ask if my heart was aflutter with the burgeoning wonder of romance?” In his empty tone, the line of prose sounded almost comical, had there not been that same, steady curiosity in his stare suggesting he was being completely serious.
“No,” answered Magpie bluntly. He moved onto his knees, rather than sitting back. The svelte biqaj slid onto Kiwi’s lap to straddle the shorter human. The motion, as intimate as it was, seemed more mechanical than graceful. He said, “Have you ever had relations with anyone before? With Miss Humming?”
Kiwi didn’t need even a trill to consider before he replied with a simple, “I have not.”
His hands rested against Kiwi’s chest, through the simple silver material that he allowed to remain on the other man’s form. He pressed lightly, then caressed up. His palms curved in a gentle grasp of the dreamerwalker’s neck. The blond leaned forward, kissed Kiwi’s cheek just at the sharp angle of the bone. The touch was light, fleeting, and then he lowered a few more kisses along the jaw before he lifted to look into those unblinking grey-green eyes. His own eyes had become a muddled blend of blue-violet. He asked, “What does that feel like to you?”