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The Crucible of a Dark City

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#41
Reverance

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In the light, crimson had intensified to scarlet. Orb looked over towards Carach as he spoke, shirt removed for the likely seeping of blood that would occur prior to and during suture. Hands cradling his jaw, running up along the temple and where the other scar lingered, he watched with a certain affinity for pain. It wasn't that he didn't feel it, it was simply that he felt it differently. He took a deep breath as the first suture began, then another, unable to mask the effect it had on him.

 

"Endless tide..." He could only draw on thoughts of Matsu, the abyss of power that yawned ever occasionally in his direction. And in such an event, when presented with the ultimate eclipse, how he was content to be swallowed by it. "Apathy, lethargy. Amusement that could provoke an end." It wasn't something he had seen, the old man came upon Reverance in a more direct way.

 

The needle plunged in again, pulling separated skin back together. "She made you feel right because it was the hug that preceded suffocation." He breathed in slowly, rise and fall of his chest, as he looked up towards the ceiling. "The soothing comfort of being contained by something bigger. Never knowing that at any moment, it could collapse around you."

 

He looked back down to find the eyes of the man, stitching him back together. "They wanted you for something that would not have been to your benefit. We aren't the sort to prosper from such gifted embrace. We pull every triumph from blood and bone and death. It's never been any different, why would it change now?"

 

Nothing in this life was right, not when it was given without force or show of will.

 

Carach



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#42
Jairus Starvald

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Reverance

 

Carach inclined his head in agreement for now.

 

Anything else was too raw - it surprised him how quickly he wished to dissuade Reverance from his perspective, to explain to him how beautiful the touch had been and how the sapphire gaze had showed him truths he still reeled about. Maybe if he hadn't been tested over and over again, if the pain he had been put through throughout the years had not tempered him, if the experience of a lifetime of strife had not colored his vision... he would have gone with that most basic of instincts.

 

But he recognized it and its foreign influence... this was not him... this was still her.

 

"It is why her host lies dead and we are still here." Because the Lady-in-Silver had not wished for his death. That was the one thing that Carach knew beyond a doubt at this point.

 

That if she had been playing for keeps?

 

Both of them would be rotting in the catacombs of that basement. "I will interrogate her... priest, find out the secrets carved in his mind, whatever they are?"

 

His jaw was set.

 

"We must be ready." Even now Reverance was hesitant, always the more pragmatic and visceral sort, not the one to worry about that which he could not see, taste, feel. The needle jabbed, sank in, pushed further and forged the wound back into a more primal state. Raw, red, but its innards no longer exposed.


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#43
Reverance

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"Her host lies dead because you killed her...Because you claimed her before I could." He had not heard the symphony of her voice as Carach had, he had only seen the priest for what he was. An affront to what they knew, mouthpiece speaking in the backdrop of something greater. They had attempted to blind him, as some prophecy foretold, rushing what wouldn't be rushed. But Carach hinged on the mystical and spiritual, white currents flowing out from him to perceive things in different ways than Reverance. Where Reverance clung to the world in how he saw it, abstract thoughts pulled from direct stimulus. Though...

 

He recalled the way power was pulled from his fingers. The way a void erupted only to reflect his own power back at him. He had turned to physical attacks for that very reason. He wondered if arrogance was getting the better of him, if he could see something else if he only deigned to look.

 

Another plunge of needle, pulling his lower cheek back together.

 

"The priest will need an antidote for the neurotoxin, born from the saliva of my hand." He clenched his teeth as the final suture was pulled tight. "Otherwise, you'll be waiting for days before he stops writhing in pain. If he survives at all." He had no desire to be a part of that slow grueling process, pulling words out of an already broken mind. Whether that be by natural mania, which he could understand, or the mania of being touched by something greater and not coping properly - something else he could understand. But the speed and the depth required, he'd likely botch the process and kill the priest before he could have the opportunity to utter any thing of worth.

 

"You could ask me nicely for it...or..." He took in a breath, green hued tattoos on his chest rising with the spattering of blood. "...I could give it to you, as an apology for Selvaris."

 

Carach



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#44
Jairus Starvald

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Reverance

 

Something churned at the back of his mind, but Carach did not pry. 

 

Their reunion was still young, fragile, it could break from a single press too hard. The Wrath might have joked about his supposed age, but it was in these moments that the Sith felt his age more than usually. When boldness was tempered with clear-cut patience (oh, yes, he possessed once his mind caught up with the hunger of a heart) and risks were released in favor of clarity. 

 

"Gifts given freely taste better, old friend." Carach retorted with a curl of the lip upwards, while his hand brushed down the neck, rubbing past the blood and feeling the beat of the heart under hand, skin and flesh.

 

"Selvaris is behind us... it is done."

 

Oh, the Sith would have a chat with his dearest Ygdris still, but that was between the two of them. Head tilted as the last stitch was strengthened and the wound was finished, some fabric wet with antiseptic to clean the remnants was applied. "I would rather look towards what we have now in this very moment."


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#45
Reverance

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He listened quietly as the wound was mended. Care taken to ensure that it would heal on it's own accord, without further complications. "So no on the apology and no on you asking for it." He smirked, sardonically. He was, if anything, persistent about certain issues. But in the same regard, he knew when to let things lie. After all, there would be more opportunity for apologies.

 

Sutures were done.

 

Blood was nearly wiped clean.

 

Antiseptic applied.

 

Everything was as it should be, except...

 

His left hand moved up, curling around the fingers that laid across his chest. They were firm, rigid yet and comforting, and provided some reprieve from the alcohol that continued to sanitize the wound. Reaching up with his Voxyn hand, he clutched Carach by the edge of his chin. Pulling him towards him, Reverance took in the breath that was so quick to utter words of lethargy and power and endless tides and swallowing a galaxy whole. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Carach's, pulling on his bottom lip with the firm placement of teeth.

 

"Gifts given freely, then..." Words spoken softly, once halted by purposed, now pierced through bated breath. After all, this did seem like the proper venue.

 

Carach



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#46
Jairus Starvald

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From teasing it went straight to hushed breaths stolen by clutched force.

 

"Tastes better indeed." Carach hummed in contemplation, before the hunger welled up in him - barely suppressed, a clawing beast at the back of his chest, gnawing at the restraints and trying to consume... not just them, but everything in its path. Instinct was difficult to press down once it was given free reign and in that moment the Sith Lord cared not for caution.

 

From chest it was brushed towards neck, fingers curled around the neck, gentle.... until it turned firm as the kiss hardened. Strength applied twice: one to push him up, again to push him against

 

This was familiar.

 

They had always been fond of switching it up, dominant to subject towards a middle-ground when others joined for support.


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#47
Reverance

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Back pressed against the framing of the wall, the impact rocked manuscripts and datachips free from their holding. Reverance gripped his teeth as he felt the hunger pass between teeth and lips, gnawing in ways that provoked a response. A beast bitten for pulling pieces free and being cornered, he had only particular recourse.

 

Through bared teeth, his hand drifted down from jaw and beard, moving from exposed neck and center-line, to the shirt that covered Carach. Blackened fingers curled as he shifted his hips and twisted left. Pulling with all his body weight, with the powers of the cyber enhancements and the Vong strength, he shoved Carach against the adjacent wall - a role reversal. This time, ornaments and book holders clashed to the ground as the wall threatened to give.

 

With the lift of his lip, ever indicative of aggression, he threatened to tilts the mans jaw upwards with a strong grip. Exploring, wandering, finding the pieces that would offer sustenance. But he didn't. Instead, his hands pulled back and retracted, slithering down the length of torso that rested before him. The rise and fall of the chest, shown through the movement of his hands, as he expressed power without the direct intention of using it.

 

"This isn't your conquest. Brutality, sheer force of will...these will only get you so far." Just how far, that would be something left for discovery.

 

Carach



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#48
Jairus Starvald

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Reverance

 

Heat in his veins pushed him forward.

 

He would have taken it further, if not for the sudden change in direction. It made him pause, the breath heavy and fast, just above the lung and stuck with no place to go. "Some things... necessitate subtlety, I suppose." Carach agreed with noticeable hesitation, but then the breath slowed down and with it his hand brushed one scar, pushing down and explored a heavy line of muscle underneath skin.

 

Once more the Sith pulled him close, this time without the hunger guiding him, but instead curiosity.

 

Taste of tobacco again, mixed with copper... the air grew heavier. Things slowed down in the moment, to experience it better, to explore the touch they hadn't shared in years.

 

It wouldn't ever have gone this way ten years ago.

 

But that was what time did... it brought new things, to diversify the old.


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