• Mature • Dollhouse

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Llyr Llywelyn
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Dollhouse

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?”
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Re: Dollhouse

It felt like there was a warm weight pinning him to the soft, silken sheets of the bed. It felt like Magpie was much, much closer than was generally socially acceptable. It felt like he should be feeling something more than the vague sensation of heat and gentle pressure as Magpie pressed his lips against his skin. To put it all into words, however, Mathias found himself at a loss. “It…” he began, brow furrowed. “It feels warm?”

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening in the first place. Magpie was, by far, one of the most sensual people he’d ever taken the time to acquaint himself with. Those ever-changing eyes shifted from emotion to emotion as easily as waves might break upon the sand strands, and while he found it fascinating in its own regard, he wasn’t certain what he was supposed to be thinking with Magpie’s thighs pressed firmly against his own hips.

Regardless, his most pressing realization was that the other, taller man was astonishingly heavy in spite of his lithe build.

A smile hinted at the corner of Magpie’s pale lips. His hands drifted over the man’s chest again and with the caress, the silver shirt dissipated to leave Kiwi’s upper body bare and exposed. The biqaj’s fingers drifted around the human’s waist. His hips gently rocked forward, bringing their bodies even closer against each other – warmer still even in the Emean haze. The very tip of Magpie’s tongue licked his lips, the violet in his eyes brightened and the blue darkened.

Magpie swiftly changed the direction of his caresses. He pressed his hands into Kiwi’s shoulders and pushed the other man against the silken bed. The young mage leaned above him, one hand remaining on the shoulder and the other on the sheets beside Kiwi’s head. He said, “When two men join together, it isn’t often for reproduction aims. But women and men join together for other reasons as well.”

“Pleasure, is a reason,” he said, “But more than that. Pleasure is a poor word to describe because it is a word that people use carelessly. My experience, though it has been… limited, what I tried to explain but fail to because you can only know, I suppose, through truly learning is that to join with another man is to experience transcendence.”

Mathias blinked. “Poetic.”

Magpie was concerningly strong. Though he had offered no resistance, curious to see what it was the other man might do, he had effortlessly manipulated Mathias’ own clothing and, had he attempted to remain seated rather than the now precariously mounted position he found himself in, he wasn’t certain he’d had been able to do so without the aid of his spark. It stood to reason that the taller, clearly more athletically inclined young man who stared down at him not entirely unlike a cat cornering a wounded bird would be his better physically.

The logic, however, did little to numb the initial shock of realization: if Magpie ever decided to turn on him - on them - he wasn’t certain who would emerge the victor of the inevitable altercation.

Quiet laughter sounded from Magpie. He shook his head slightly, enough that his white-blond hair swayed past his dark brows. The biqaj lowered, as if to perform a push-up, until his face hovered just above Mathias’ face – so close it was obvious that any boundaries of polite mannerisms had been abandoned. He said in a low, smoky-toned voice that was unlike his usual silver-bell tenor, “No. Not poetic.”

“Words, no matter how pretty they might be, will never encompass the reality-” he kissed Mathias briefly on the lips, where he had branded him, then lifted and concluded, “-of what it is to truly feel the body of another so close that you can no longer tell who is who anymore, whether you are them or they are you, the connection is so...”

He trailed off as if Mathias should have known the answer. Piecing together what he knew, he offered a calm, “Transcendental?”

Magpie laughed again, a short and soft burst, and he said, “I was going to say amazing, but that works too, I suppose.”

Pressed against the sheets as he was, Mathias managed a short nod. “I see.”

“Do you?” asked Magpie. He said, “Why don’t you try to kiss me then? Inform me if you feel anything but the physical nature of it.”

Mathias blinked and didn’t move right away. He considered, staring up into Magpie’s glimmering blue-violet eyes. He’d never been in such a situation, and he wasn’t certain how he planned to proceed. In all of the books he’d read to better educate himself about the mortal condition, that which he had understood the least of had been matters of romance. Love, lust, longing… even the simple concept of friendship had all been unfathomable to him.

He understood the benefit of maintaining connections with other people. The more they cared for one another, the more they were willing to sacrifice in order to see that bond survived. He didn’t excel in the social arena, but he knew enough about what people expected to passably conduct himself.

With Magpie, however, he had no idea.

“Very… well,” he, at last, replied. Magpie’s face was already so close, it required only the smallest of movements. Unfortunately for the young etherist, Mathias miscalculated. Rather than a gentle press of lips, his forehead bashed into the other man’s with far more force than intended, enough that Mathias found his head bounced back into the soft silks of the bed beneath him. He blinked several times, staring as the gradual silver mark in the center of Magpie’s forehead before he offered a quiet, “Ah. My apologies.”

“Fak,” hissed Magpie. He brought a hand up and rubbed at his forehead. With a wince, he composed himself. He said in a strained voice, “It’s okay. Just a bump. It happens.”

Though it must’ve hurt from the various winces and silvery mark on his forehead, Magpie didn’t seem as deterred as one might expect. He shifted his posture some, lowered so his body pressed flat against the other mage’s and he pressed his elbows down on either side of Kiwi’s head. He wrapped his forearms against the curls of Mathias’ hair and drifted his fingers through the strands. Though he pet the other man, Magpie also firmly kept the abrogator’s head still this time.

“I’ll come to you,” he offered. He lowered until his lips grazed against Kiwi’s lips and he whispered, “Okay. Go ahead.”

Mathias didn’t know what Magpie expected, but he dutifully pressed his lips to the other man’s, mimicking what Magpie had done before. If he was meant to feel something other than the warmth and the slight wetness of Magpie’s soft skin, he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be.

Magpie sighed against the kiss. His lips parted and his tongue made its way past Mathia’s lips. He pushed the kiss into something more than it had been before. The sensation was similar to a bite of warm, wet meat against his tongue. Immediately, he felt the instinctual response to bite down, but it quickly passed as his brows furrowed. He could taste the other man’s saliva and feel the warmth of his mouth. The sensation was odd - close to uncomfortable, given he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing other than lying there with his mouth open -, and he certainly saw reason why anyone would desire to subject themselves regularly to such an act.

It continued for a few trills… several trills… then nearing a bit, Magpie pushed up. He sighed lowly. The irises of his eyes had cooled into a deep shade of blue. He pressed even farther away, lifting off Kiwi. He sat on the bed beside him and folded his hands in his lap. Magpie stared forward at the marble dreamscape around them, then he sighed again though a heavier exhale of breath. He ran a hand through his hair, then said, “I’m going to wake up. You should leave before it collapses.”
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Re: Dollhouse

That was perhaps the most uncomfortable kissing scene I've ever seen.

But, writing at that skill level, to not make it typical, is something to be admired. It would be too easy to shorthand it as they both liked it, and it was without and hitches. The preamble leading up to it all but highlighted just how skillful the both of you are, when it comes to setting a firm tone in your works. The knowledges also were 'tongue in cheek', I guess you could say.

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Llyr

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Knowledges:
Endurance: Receiving a headbutt.
Teaching: Demonstrating how.
Teaching: Easier to learn by doing.
Teaching: Show your own passion for what you teach.
Psychology: Using another's experiences to explain.
Seduction: Use of hands.
Nonskill Knowledges:
Kiwi: Chaste.
Renown:
EXP:
+15

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Mads

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Knowledges:
unarmed
headbutt while restrained on a bed

discipline:
not biting someone's tongue in your mouth

endurance:
accepting an uncomfortable connection of mouths

Wealth:
Renown:
EXP:
+15

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Understand that all criticisms are done in good faith. It would be a greater disrespect to not say anything in the face of problems. Please contact me through this account's inbox if you wish to further communicate on the matter of improvement, or if you feel as though anything is unduly harsh.
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