rafent

[rafent]

[ settle / nuzzle - COMBOOOO ] Arms crossed over her chest, Alear has no choice but to frown as the target of her affections has done nothing to reciprocate-- instead enthralled with whatever it is that's happening in that book. She knows how easy it is for Rafal to get under her skin, especially when he's purposefully ribbing her and poking at different ways to toy with her; it's obvious, when the corners of his lips twitch when she groans with some sort of a complaint. He's great at appearing aloof and unconcerned, but Alear's learned to see right through that façade. Mean! Awful! Terrible! And he still has the audacity to languidly turn another page, as if she's not standing a few feet away looking like a kicked puppy. As if her lip isn't jutting slightly in a frown, brows furrowed at a sharp angle as she wars with herself in the moment. There's no time like the present, she supposes, and Alear decides that she's tired of waiting. He can deal with the consequences of his actions, and she can get her prize. Win/win. So it takes little to mentally convince herself to stride over and gingerly pluck the novel from his hands, holding it up over her head before she unceremoniously plops right down into his lap, thighs bracketing his legs. It takes only a few moments for her to wiggle and make herself comfortable, head resting on the slope of his shoulder and her nose pressing into the side of his neck-- her arms wrap themselves around him, and Alear can do nothing but take in a deep breath, only desiring to lose herself in him. A feat that's become easier and easier over time.

"Are you done ignoring me?" She mumbles against his smooth skin, eyes falling closed as she feels herself relaxing in his embrace. "Or should I try harder this time?" Almost as an afterthought, she adjusts one hand to carelessly drop the book on the couch next to them. At least she made a mental note to keep his bookmark in place, always careful not to completely disrupt his hobby.

"Don't tell me you prefer the book over me." If he can't see it, he can certainly feel the way her lips curl into a smile against him with the jest.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 settle — sender sits on receiver's lap and gets comfortable nuzzle — sender leans in and nuzzles their face into receiver's neck

Dedicated to all promises he swore to Nil, refractory to a fault, invested fully in his pursuits of power or otherwise, Rafal did not work in partial measures or with cup half full. Not unless such waffling should serve him as it did now.

Another turn of page begetting both absolute nonchalance and shallow preoccupation. Appearances only what with one eye trained upon some prosaic novel dealing with prose far more aligned with Nel's tastes, the other on an adorable divinity that he deemed far more interesting of the two. He smiled inwardly, not for the first, at an immature expression of displeasure spotted from the corner of his eye: protruding frown, balled fists, a ballooning of cheeks expanded as any foraging squirrel's might. His deflection of the woman's repeated overtures and sure mind in doing so was every bit to blame for her upset. Naturally, Rafal had intended it that way.

"Me? Ignore you?" Faux hurt twisted with disbelief, surrendering Nil's mask did not mean that he'd cast off his penchant for performance alongside. Certain talents ingrained, not worn. "What childish accusation from one that all lesser beings might consider a god. Such behavior is hardly fitting for a figure of your divine proportions."

Still: he'd offered no resistance to the confiscation of his book - for all the means to an end that it merely was. Would offer even less, if he could, to the circumstances that have fashioned of his person an impromptu seat. Adjusting to her weight across his lap, he shook his head with exasperation, one final pretense and round before he welcomed its abandonment at last. The protective curl of arms around her was his reciprocity, the delicate run of his knuckles down her spine a profession of fondness that his unversed words could not better name, brushing up against coursing dual tone strands. Within reach only for moments like these.

"I prefer a book in ways, yes. For its wisdom and source of quiet. But I suppose you too are in possession of your strengths. You need only behave as you are to realize them." An answer brimful with double meaning. Her unthinking innocence in all that she said and did; her predictable reaction in combating such an unfair and despotic Fell Heir who dared to deny her the rights to attention. Met with a view of the face-down novel, his smile battled admirably with the instinct to become smirk.

How glorious when all went according to plan.

[rafent]

[ feed ] sender offers a forkful of food out to receiver, helping them eat

The fork makes a gentle clatter as its returned to the place, and the thief doesn't hesitate to strike. While Rafal is busy with whichever student's assignment he's reading, Yunaka is more than happy to strike, sneaking the fork away before he can stop her and spearing a little piece of his cake.

"I feel like you've had a different slice of cake every time I've seen you this week." This one's chocolate, with a chocolate icing to pair with it. She examines it quietly with her free hand cupped underneath her prize to catch any crumbs that fall. When he doesn't jump her to try and get it back, she takes the chance to enjoy the bite herself.

She grimaces a little. Way too rich for her.

Yunaka chews slowly as she swings her legs, bouncing her heels off the side of his desk from the little corner edge she's perched herself on. "For someone who eats so many, you're not very sweet yourself, you know." She swallows as a playful grin breaks across her face. "We should fix that."

She takes another piece of the cake. Instead of eating it again though, this time she leans over to him. She smiles teasingly with a quiet giggle as she holds the bite up to his mouth. "Say aah!"

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 feed — sender offers a forkful of food out to receiver, helping them eat

Since embarking upon his new life in another world, the creature known as Rafal thought himself conferred with every reason to be content. Everyday deportment under his true name, forgiveness and acceptance by his other half; with these blessings in hand, he constructed for himself an existence comparable to contentment - gorged on the bare essentials that others might consider household which felt only as largess to him. Even more, despite Rafal's ability to be satisfied on comparatively little, since then he'd accumulated quite the bevy of excess. Luxuriant fatty trimmings to line lean fortune.

Nowadays, a warm cup of tea, a full-flavored slice of cake, and—in particular—the recurring, far more than seasonal appearances of two Knights composed the picture of his evolving pleasure and higher quality of life. Those knights all but responsible for his state of newly enhanced bliss. Not that he would ever admit to that.

Raise of steaming cup, focus on red-inked page: "If you are here to criticize my own traits, in my own office, would you terribly mind saving it for after I am finished with my cake? Delicious treats tend to lose their potency when consumed amidst undue ruckus." A serene sip of tea expressed that he was none too taken by the choice of conversation or the simultaneous pilfering conducted by his cake bandit. A raised eyebrow led to that cup brought down, the latter a fixed motion of disbelief that did not rise again. "—I beg your pardon?"

Yunaka's playful expression did not go unnoticed and a switch of skeptical attention from her glowing crescent of a smile to the extended forkful of cake conveyed that these sights were, indeed, real. As were her silent, suspended expectations. Those that did not dissipate proceeding several beats of chance and deliberation. Sigh.

"I see you have no intention of relenting. If you should wish to see such medieval torture fulfilled, very well. But know only that I will remember it between here and until the end of all time." Dramatics, dramatics, a keen eye to observe that this were merely the dragon's expert technique in stalling time. Best to rip off the hangnail in one clean motion, to suck out the venom of the snake bite, then let either languish and lie. Pink mouth parted tentatively. Certainly NOT nervously. Aaaaaa.

Meeting scarcely halfway then pulling apart, Rafal commanded his strangely energetic heartbeat to still, stirring with the likeness of a beast more prey than predator, and more rabbit than viper. Such unwarranted frivolity bespoke the begrudging slide of his lips off the fork and their slow chew. And what disturbing acceleration of pulse at the trivial act of being hand fed. A fact he was more than happy to (falsely) correlate to a powerful and infantilized being's offense.

[rafent]

[ catch ] [au or ow up to u o7]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘 catch — receiver starts to fall, so sender reaches out and catches them

Storied monasteries and long-lived dragons possessed several things in common. Ancient structures selfsame that stood many heads and shoulders above human limitation, impervious to most mortal damages, and hundreds upon hundreds of years old in addition. Their means to a wanton, vastly uninhibited age allowed for strength to propagate where it might otherwise entail weakness. Where stones and scales differed was in how their age manifested.

Structural defects showed outwardly in one and totally evaded the other, the gift of dragonkind's eternal youth surpassed and matched by none. More than rumor, it was experience that told of what came of contesting an old piece of tile on the academy grounds that had seen better days. Cracked, wobbling, and prone especially to giving off a dangerously slippery quality in the aftermath of rain. Rafal, however, would know little of that damning fact as his oblivious steps scaled the slick steps to the dining hall. Inching ever closer to his proverbial demise.

"Hmm. I believe it is around this time. . ." 'It' referring only to a limited lunch special for lovers of all that was sweet and sugary. As bears shall ever gravitate toward honey and hive, so too would dessert-loving Fell Dragons migrate toward the direction that best promised to curb their insatiable hunger. One step gained toward that venture was followed by another. Disrupted next by a skid of heel upon still-wet tile. ". . .!!"

Eyes trained for all intents and purposes on the prize of welcoming doors ahead now flew heavenward, faced with an eyeful of infinite blue, wispy clouds, and of silvery hair not his own. A curtain long and flowing that provided context for the too-warm hand propping up the small of his back. Rafal jolted upright with the aid of this counteracting force - this stranger behind him. Except he whirled to appraise them and met with a face deemed not so strange, after all.

Uneven ungulate horns, caramel skin, a thoroughly draconic presence steeped in magic. In a world where duplicates and alternate selves amounted to reality, to wager this name without utmost certainty would be a foolish gamble. Yet, all too mysteriously, that precious individual was the first to come to mind. "—Zelestia?"

[rafent]

PROMPTS FOR COMFORTABLE INTIMACY *  adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt

[ settle ] sender sits on receiver's lap and gets comfortable

[ sling ] sender slings an arm around receiver's shoulder

[ pinch ] sender affectionately pinches receiver's cheek

[ ruffle ] sender ruffles receiver's hair

[ recline ] sender joins receiver on their chair and snuggles against them

[ hand ] sender takes receiver's hand while driving

[ knee ] sender lays a hand on receiver's leg while driving

[ clean ] sender reaches up to wipe something off receiver's face

[ tie ] sender adjusts receiver's tie

[ collar ] sender smooths out receiver's collar

[ tickle ] sender starts tickling receiver

[ piggyback ] sender gives receiver a piggyback ride

[ pick up ] sender scoops receiver up into their arms and holds them as they walk

[ guide ] sender places a hand on receiver's hip and guides them through a crowded room

[ smudge ] sender cleans lipstick off receiver's face

[ gun ] in the midst of a stand-off, sender reaches over and gently guides receiver's gun down, making them lower it

[ behind ] sender comes up to receiver from behind and wraps their arms around their waist

[ nuzzle ] sender leans in and nuzzles their face into receiver's neck

[ relax ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder while they talk

[ arms ] sender hooks their arm with receiver's as they walk

[ itch ] sender assists receiver with an itch they can't reach

[ catch ] receiver starts to fall, so sender reaches out and catches them

[ calm down ] sender pets receiver's hair and tries to soothe them after a scary situation

[ check ] sender checks receiver's temperature by placing the back of their hand against receiver's forehead, trying to see if they're sick

[ tuck ] sender tucks receiver into bed

[ feed ] sender offers a forkful of food out to receiver, helping them eat

[ undress ] sender helps receiver undress

[ shoes ] sender helps receiver put on their shoes

[ intent ] sender leans their forehead against receiver's

[ bathe ] sender helps receiver wash themselves in a bath

[ shower ] sender helps receiver wash themselves in a shower

[ assist ] sender finds receiver has fallen down, so they rush to their aid and help them stand again

[ bed ] sender helps receiver into bed

[ greet ] sender greets receiver with quick kisses to each of their cheeks

[ high five ] sender gives receiver a congratulatory high five

[ makeup ] sender helps receiver apply makeup

[ injury ] sender cleans receiver's wound and patches it up

[ seek ] sender reaches for receiver's hand and laces their fingers

[ surprise ] sender sneaks up behind receiver and places their hands over their eyes, wanting them to guess who it is

[ walk ] sender helps receiver walk by staying by their side and holding onto them

[rafent]

"Surely, you do not doubt my ability to safely convey a single passenger."

An observant mind would note that this were neither an affirmative nor negative answer, and of all unquestionable certainties, the dragon's amusement existed alone. He chuckled darkly at Yunaka's apprehension as they sunk deeper into the medial reaches of the chasm. Wings flapping to the tune of steady descent, sunlight grew thin and struggled to reach here: the undefined zone between light and dark where an object might enact its last thoughts of hesitation before entering the point of no return. Rafal did no such thing.

"—Brace yourself. The abyss below us extends far. Unless you know of a Fire spell or possess a Torch, we will be entering into a world of dark deemed little hospitable to your human eyes." Which was to say, such a world did not offer much to eyes of a draconic variety, also. With evolution from gleam to glow, cerise irises radiated brighter with the help of harsh contrast, the only source of illumination amidst their unlit surroundings. Useful, even if only superficially so.

Gills best matched to water, lungs best matched to air, the means of his visual acuity transformed to suit the same logic of right tool and situation. Not unlike a switch being toggled, Rafal now observed his environment through specialized pit glands embedded in his countenance. A hundred shades and colors condensed to few, the straightforward visualizations of craggy rock newly introduced as chalky outlines - not perfect, but enough. As for Yunaka? A nebulous, constantly shifting mass of thermal energy which, at this angle, was far greater felt than seen.

The same could not be said for those emerging from crags in the rock face.

". . .Bats?" Rafal questioned aloud. A company slithering out with a spread of their reptilian wings, a half dozen at that - materializing from east, west, forward, backward, on all conceivable sides. But the more these heat signatures solidified, the less they appeared as ordinary bats. Much too large, skewing unusual.

mourning the sky

Pearlescent | Axe +1

[rafent]

Alear didn’t know what troubled Rafal and that was precisely how he preferred it. So far as he was concerned, this ignorance, too, qualified as her protection. There would be no use informing the Divine Dragon of intangible dangers, no possible range of effects either positive or desired in giving shape to a phantom that would only serve to haunt her every waking thought. To spare her of ghosts and dedicate himself to their exorcism in the meanwhile, this was the prevailing ideology behind Rafal’s avoidance. As well as his greatest strength.

No matter the opinions in well-meaning opposition, the Fell Heir stood many leagues apart from his otherworldly savior and her flock. Neither holy nor pure, bogged down by neither limitation nor scruple - unable to be tainted any further than he already was, best and worst of all. If there stood anyone who could travel the great lengths of the underworld and return unscathed, that someone stood before her. And for her, he would do so countlessly. For her, he would assume the role of a countervailing darkness; an agent of unfeeling death eliminating every threat from shadow before they could touch light. Explanations, if all went perfectly to plan, would even be unneeded, this issue resolved long before she'd caught the whispers of it.

But of course, with the Divine One there always existed a way of grand plans going awry. His, in particular. Rafal ought to have accounted for such a force of nature at that, equivalent to his own, ever positioned to prove his obstacle be it in one world or the next. Even if this time: unknowingly.

“Is that what you think? I see your foolish theories are prone to running rampant when gone unchecked."

A faceted sigh, expressing more than one emotion, but exasperation first and foremost. She could not be further from the truth, but that fact did not demand, or require, correction, either. The older dragon could not be miffed in the slightest, considering her wide miss of the mark meant only that he was doing his job well. Regardless, a bothered twinge at the most obscene falsities spurred him into righting the wrongful direction of the compass needle. . .within reason.

“Hold your apologies and regrets, Divine One. It will benefit you to know that you have done nothing to wound me, nor to degrade our relationship. My business simply has nothing to do with you.” It had everything to do with her, yet the cold shoulder he produced did not show it. Rafal looked askance with cool indifference, a steely front that betrayed little of his agenda. Or perhaps, to the most perceptive of attentions, a flicker of guilty hesitation that repelled his gaze from meeting the other's. Those very eyes: achingly clear, and so impossibly earnest. On retrospect, fitting qualities to surface here when it were those qualities he sought to protect.

By use of all necessary measure: ". . .And it remains mine to withhold. Must you be an accessory to every moment of my time? Privy to every square of the mind? Surely not. Do not be entitled; even you must see the fallacy in that belief."

✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧

Mission Board: Pearlescent, blackmail letter

[rafent]

There's no explanation to be offered by this entire situation, as Nel won't go into detail as to why her hand is bandaged or why her hair is more disheveled than it normally is. Her voice comes out slightly gruff, throaty and hoarse. "Brother... I must ask a favor of you." "May I borrow Revanche? For only the day. I will return it to you posthaste."

Perhaps there's a pleading look in her eyes, but it's meant more as a hope that she doesn't have to go into detail about any of this. Knowing Rafal... This could easily spiral into something else.

"Sister, what has happened? You appear greatly out of sorts."

Sleek black hair disturbed by prior entropy, wear-and-tear visible in the conspicuously bandaged hand, questions and demands formed a silent and interchangeable entity as Rafal studied Nel's appearance. He would not be her brother, her sincere other half, if he did not beget a frown or a flurry of worries for even the smallest tells. He certainly wouldn't be Rafal, besides, as time had ever begun to evince. A careless wound? The ill of another's design? But without answer, without greeting or explanation, perhaps a single offered word were substitute for them all.

"—Revanche?" An unexpected source of visitation, instead. His suspicions mingled with curiosities, furrowed brows lifted by their earnest reach for the sky: "I could not fathom what needs you might conjure for a weapon outside your area of expertise. Our regalia, Revanche and Represailles, were twin-forged, but still are their differences significant. If you should seek to wield what is mine, a single day would not be enough to acclimate to either its weight or power."

Even so: a beat, then another, both owed to a spell of consideration. Whatever the case, mayhap it were not his place to question. Never did Nel ask barring good reason, and rarely did those reasons come into existence to begin with. Here was a rare, selfish request from one who did not beseech for much of anything at all; neither tall miracles nor lofty possessions, or even petty requests. Always did Nel and Rafal exchange in kindness or company, never did they want for favors. And that aside. . .

Revanche had not accrued many uses, if any, before now. An anachronistic relic of the many powerless centuries Nil had resented, married by necessity to an axe that might be his surrogate fang. More importantly, nowadays equipped with a dragon's true birthright, the Fell Heir had not seen fit to cling to old sentiments over the modern power of his dragonstone. Even less to the former tool—and stark reminder—of his betrayal against Nel.

In that sense, only proper was it that the woman indirectly responsible for its indefinite slumber be the one to awaken it.

Silvery locks swayed with the breezy motion of his acquiescence. He gestured to the direction of the faculty dorms with a flippant hand. To be Nel's half was not only to worry and to defend, but to trust in her intentions. With equally important mensuration, what was his was also hers; altogether, named theirs. ". . .But, I trust that to ask means your need is important. Revanche is in my quarters. It has been collecting dust and only ceases to do so thanks to your request. You should know where to find it. And, likewise, where to return it once your business is finished."

[rafent]

Whether a punch landed or missed made no difference to the resilient dragon who merely shook his head to ward off the sensation, little affected as if by no more than the buzzing sting of a horsefly. But where harm were not felt, harm too was not the intention, and it succeeded in its gamble for distance as Rafal leaned heavily onto his back foot. A lingering tinge of pinkness served as lone testament to where Fogado's knuckles had struck, the mark of the other eventually to fade but not totally; a fact that had scant to do with the site of impact.

Those wounds of another making remained, unseen sores chafing against reality with the same claim to origination. All of this was his doing. Eyes flared with a glittering varnish of fury, deep-seated flames climbing higher and burning hotter. Not once did they veer from the party Rafal deemed responsible, spinning his words as recklessly as his otherworldly counterpart had, so similar and yet so different. At a distance, a familiar, laughing picture they two must have even made; the furious master once more led in circles by his much too impudent servant.

"Shut up!" A gulp of acrid potion, a scalding splash in the face, all bore equivalence in extremity to the slew of accusations but Rafal did not flinch. The first betrayal one of Fogado's brazen rejection and denial of their experiences, a second would not occur in his own disclosures. Fogado would see his anger, he would never see his hurts, even as they leaked from every syllable, every pointed, jagged accusation of his own.

"You are free to think what you want. To do however you so please. That is precisely what you have been doing this entire time, with all liberties and without remorse. Spinning such an amicable web between us, tearing it down at all fickle convenience—who am I to stop you?"

Flashing silver aimed for white. A sharp blur of motion by both and Rafal dodged the shears on a slim margin with emotion clouding the mind. Pale strands of hair danced through the air like fallen petals, floated to the floor like dandelion down. He snarled with affront at the clear attempt on his life, maddened into pursuit on thundering footsteps. The gall!

". . .But perhaps I ought to be thanking you, Fogado. I am enlightened! To acquaint with a web is to know the manner of pest I deal with." Futile - the means of presumptuous escape from his retaliation. The singular buffer of a table stood between them and now it didn't; Rafal roared as he flipped it toward Fogado with a fly of hands, facile upheaval dealt to all shouldered pots, gardening tools, and pretenses of civility alongside. This fight was now two-sided. "—Allow me to squash you to a spider's fitting grave!"

✦ 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 ✧

Ethereal Ball 2025, continued from ?

[rafent]

[looks at you *the silence is deafening*]

Ptoo! Perhaps it spoke volumes, that Rafal wasn't able to mistake the sound of a big fat gob being hoicked up anywhere. That wasn't the point here, though.

"H-Hey! What do you think you're—" Craning neck and flushed cheeks; an unanticipated, undignified manner of spit met with squawk, the person responsible for it with astonishment. Split emotions. Rafal wasn't against showy actions in the bedroom, he was more than a little responsible for them, but he hadn't expected them to come from Alcryst of all people. Wasn't the guy supposed to be a total beginner? Color him surprised and just a little turned on.

Okay, that was a lie; a lot turned on.

It was getting progressively harder to keep quiet, no thanks to the other. He bit back a groan as Alcryst pressed in the second finger, moving the hand on his dick in time with their steady pistoning - root to glans, then back to root again, slow tension pooling in his gut, invisible springs starting to settle into coils and ringlets. They made a good team, like this; under bright commercial lights and a more professional backdrop, maybe that fact wouldn't change. Rafal hadn't considered collaborations with Alcryst as two popular models in the same field of work. He should start to.

Speaking of harder: his attention drifted down to the sight between Alcryst's legs, entranced by its rise to attention. Hot and half-mast, a pleasantly short refractory period, and—most importantly—right now another man's dick had never looked so. . .

"—Good!" Oh, that was a horrible crack in his voice. "It feels, uh, really good. I'm not close yet, but I'm getting there. Just need a little something. . .more."

Rafal cleared his muggy throat, swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth, and bit the inside of his cheek. What would it take for Alcryst to be inside him? Stupidity, he knew - a whole lot of it. He didn't do virgins and he shouldn't go the mile with one like Alcryst, someone still so bright-eyed and innocent. Not that what they were doing was anything like that. But then the words flew out before he could stop them:

"Do you want to as well? Feel good, that is."

✦ 𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ✧

Modern AU, Alcryst & Rafal

[rafent]

Descent to the bowels of the chasm through straightforward means. Between the two, it had been Rafal's idea but that required no saying.

Where humans might dub the same action a complicated and all too head-spinning ordeal, the sons and daughters of dragons thought it no less than the first and most apparent route. Their wings redefined limits and impossibilities with ease; their power a frank matter of convenience tapped into at any minute raise of glowing red stone. The fearsome Fell Dragon to replace one's scintillating strands of light appeared as an indomitable black mass which none could penetrate. Observed from snout to clawed-hand tip, Rafal was defined by diverging snaps of color in only two respects - the pinks of his various membranes and the reds of her.

"Do I appear as your paltry livestock suitable for the yoke of domestication?"

A resounding no to the saddle. Patience still reserved him as his jockey adjusted her place across his back, though to speak of Yunaka as the jockey stood in name only; true agency would be his to command, every which way. Proudly, tall neck reared in fearless measure of the abyss below. A prince of Gradlon was no pitiable mortal dwarfed by the steepness of natural elements, and no gutter rat suited to traverse the man-made tunnels that guided down, either. Others possessed a route to the bottom through furtive shafts and dank, airless corridors. They would descend his way.

"Falling remains to be seen." The beginning stirs of his motion, vitality and power and muscle churning beneath the many rippling acres of scales below his human companion as one foot advanced toward the edge, chased by the other. Beneath his weight small portions of rock crumbled off to plummet toward the depths; a fitting leader for them to follow. "To be particular, you will not fall—" a smile, not in the tooth-laden maw but the sardonic voice, ". . .so long as you hold on tight."

Abandoning pier and setting sail, wings unfurled in singular, practiced motion as his claws unmoored with a leap, no longer betrothed to solid ground but to the liberating free fall of empty air. The imbalanced sway of a top-heavy body quickly worked to stabilize with counteracting wingbeats, conscious of the lone rider perched higher up on his spine. To both rider and ridden no doubt a selfsame learning experience.

mourning the sky

Pearlescent | Axe +1

[rafent]

All time stood to a standstill, allowing for neither notice of the shutting door nor the questioning address of the shopkeeper. Regardless the perfect, even superior function of his inhuman faculties, the dragon did not hear - only see. A one-way tunnel leading toward inevitable destination, a bright spotlight irradiating a singular spot and man, Rafal trained his eyes upon no-one else but the living ghost who knew nothing of his worth to the former Fell Heir. The Hero Chrom; infinitely oblivious to his imprint in another world, and standing before him in fine fettle within this one. The fact a truly double-edged sword.

Such a clear vision of health imbued him with a mysterious form of relief, warm and automatic, only to be chased away by dawning realization and for him to be made cold anew. Chrom's appearance though paler than usual suggested that the babel of shouts he'd taken as indicator of the man's dire straits amounted to little more than a dispute. Raised voices, petty tempers, and seemingly nothing more. Running opposite his intentions of flight at the Ethereal Ball, Rafal had chased himself to the very bluffs he'd desired to avoid. Direct confrontation.

"I—" His throat bobbed uselessly, eyes unable to steer their unswerving attention away from the hero on their own, conflicted red locked to tumultuous blue as if fettered. A loud cough by their bystander snapped him away with a jolt, a sway of movement at the corner of his eye as another approached.

"Welcome, dear customer! Please, do not worry yourself over the exchange you just heard. I'm afraid nonsense like that is all too common from outsiders. A proper loon this one just happens to be." A scathing look directed at Chrom before he returned to Rafal with an appeasing smile and wringing hands. "You'll have to forgive the commotion, mister. . .?"

Silence, leaden of weight, parallel to his measure of the overarching situation. The noticeable peculiarities of the conversation he had interrupted, the disingenuous flavor of the store owner's expression, and the trouble brewing like a fine mist merely waiting to take on heavier cloak. Rafal did not know the whole particulars. He did not know why he moved to favor Chrom's side here, either. Impulsively, unexplainably, in the very same manner with which he had pursued him here to begin with.

"I am. . .with him," he answered in lieu of a name, gaze snapping to Chrom once more, then moving aslant in hasty avoidance.

in your eyes, am i merely a weapon?

mission board: pearlescent | faith +1 | chrom + rafal

[rafent]

( 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 )

it is itself no longer

Restoration | Axe +1

[rafent]

Once more did Rafal consign another existence to ruin, and for once this act did not concern a life he had taken. No; more rather, a life he would take as soon as he landed his hands on the source of his complications - on sight and no sooner.

His inanimate victim crumpled and protested within the tight snatch of his grip. Crushed until its writing was unrecognizable then further eliminated with all the bearing of a grudge. Known to no other, a distant room stood witness to the cold warping of the dragon's enraged expression, warmed only by the gentle wash of heat over its glacial planes. The contrived campfire before him crackled as the pale sheet was tossed into its inferno. A letter: destroyed hatefully, but more than that, deliberately, with every intent to erase all proof of it ever having existed. What purpose was there to keeping a memento of an impossible end that would never come to pass?

Even so, the last line of the letter failed to depart his mind. Unthinkable. Unforgettable. Unforgivable. An ever-present pockmark upon his day and upon each of them to come, its black and clarion warning resounding clearer than if it had been spoken aloud. 'Leave quietly, outsider, or her death will be loud. I'll make sure of it.'

Ink charred long after, the fire long cooled, still did Rafal's hand remain a fist as he stood grimly over the ashes.

...

"—Make scarce. I do not have time for you right now."

As of late the conversations between Rafal and Alear began and ended with remarks of this unintentionally hurtful nature. Curt and to the point without allowance for surfeit expression. Following in the footsteps of their last previous interactions, the taller dragon brushed past the divinity again and did not attempt to encourage between them another word. Both odd and rare his showing. Chase and retreat could be deemed their timeless pattern, Divine and Fell, but a pattern it ceased to be when the chased party in question was not so easily found and offered no comforts when he was. One might even begin to think he was unhappy to see her, proceeding such a long stretch of time spent apart.

Aiding the impression, eventually gusted his stormy sigh. A familiar furrow between brows that could ever name her as the cause except never to this solemn and exponential degree. ". . .I believe I have told you to leave me be, Divine One. What of my command feels as mere suggestion to you?"

Rafal frowned as he halted at the persistent presence on his periphery; unmistakable blue and red crowning wide, earnest eyes. Already impatience and rigidity colored his appearance in tandem as he took in her measure: the endangered Divine Dragon surpassed by matters far beyond her scope. Any moment wasted here—even with Alear herself—amounted to a precious grain of sand squandered in the hourglass. Unearthing the author of the blackmail letter was of the utmost importance - keeping her safe. Nothing else mattered.

@aliberation

✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧

Mission Board: Pearlescent, blackmail letter

[rafent]

It stood to reason that Rafal's frustration wouldn't be easily quelled at a chink in anticipated plans: special, outstanding plans that need be perfect on this day more than any other. There was an allowance for perfectionism, he'd insist. A place for it! Of all select hours and rare visitations between Rafal and Griss, how dare a catastrophe deign to strike now? Unlike his lord, however, the latter seemed little perturbed which equated to all the difference. Moved by this reflection of unaffected calm in its own right, something of the dragon shifted likewise, untangled from his crooked, bitter feelings by one who hadn't swerved in the least.

"Not a lick of worry anywhere seen. Does nothing of this situation perturb you?" Incensed to composed anew, what might have been a critical question was instead rhetorical. Shaped ever so slightly by fond exasperation. "We could very well be trapped here until we are discovered, anywhere from hours to days. At worst: weeks. This is no impossibility, and you would not merely be my guest in that scenario, but a necessary house guest."

The normalcy of the carefree man's posture spoke for itself, his gumption and roaring expectation deeming all disaster secondary. Rafal took that moment to return to their table and pick up the devastated mass of his own teacup, turtling his hand inside the depths of his sleeve and using it to safely sweep the mess of ceramic fragments toward the fringes of the desk for later disposal. Like their recent complication, seemingly swept aside. On Griss' example: taken in stride.

"Allow me to put it another way. You are trapped here with me, and if we should begin to starve I would kill and eat you first. Does that not frighten you?"

A teasing and conversational remark behind downcast eyes, the surface of the desk cleared of sharp hazards in favor of a new, perhaps more suitable arrangement. Dragon and disciple in their veiled game of pretend, beholden to their friendly roles of host and guest as well as all the props. In that light, the most lavish tool in every host's repertoire entered stage here: a dark bottle without mystery and two tall glasses which Rafal produced from an adjacent drawer. A decision helped by the most recent turn of events - a sudden revelation after watching Griss wave around his sloshing drink.

Fancy brews in tiny teacups didn't feel very much like the man, anyway.

✦ 𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ✧

Non-Mission Board: Restoration, roommates

[rafent]

"Oh, have I not? At best we might call that intentional. I only thought it wise to spare you from the great human mistake of complacency over any middling deeds." Grand words from a dragon exemplifying the very ceiling of pride and bluster. That dragon shrugged with the whisper of a smile dancing upon his lips, or even more accurately: a smirk. ". . .But I suppose a report is well-deserved. Your results reflect openly upon me as your teacher, after all."

That at least were truth; a well-done for Yunaka corresponded with a job well-done for Rafal, also. The selfsame tightening and sobering of an attentive crimson gaze, however, expressed that he hadn't applied himself to their endeavor purely for that sake alone. He pressed his thumb to the edge of the dagger she extended, pushing against it with the slightest pressure. The result immediately clear in a thin slit of red and its small, ensuing dribble. The ultimatum?

"—A pass."

Rafal rubbed away the ruddy streak between thumb and forefinger, face wearing none of the paltry discomfort and all of the associated pleasure of seeing his tutelage come to fruition. "This showing is adequate for our lesson. The first of many, I might add. Sharpening a blade is not the extent of the work that can be done, but we will resume our curriculum at another time."

Pointed and punctual, even meaningful, was that emphasis. 'Another time', suggesting that an invitation to spend more time together were placed coyly upon the table for her to take. Within reason for the furtive and undemonstrative Fell Dragon in question. Another time: meaning secondarily that Rafal had not shown himself at the local smithy merely to share his knowledge with another. Intentions to pursue, business to uphold, and with Yunaka there had been minutes squandered enough. However enriching those minutes had been.

He swiveled smugly on his heel with a pocketing of hands, parting words equally insouciant. "Ah, right. Feel free to continue your tinkering here. I have word to take up with the blacksmith—classified business." Surely, someone was willing to hire a dragon with the pressing need for pocket change. In this economy confections and immoderate spending habits came far from cheap.

it is itself no longer

Restoration | Axe +1

[rafent]

"The pretense of strength is unneeded with me, Nel, you know that."

Gently, steadily, Rafal gave voice to but one of many cardinal truths in their keep. Everything had he seen of Nel and she of him, a view of not only the steely protector but of the tender heart beating behind her. A thousand years ago they had surrendered their future of secrets and looked to one where none might stand between them. Two individuals like that could never want for such meaningless simulacra. And, of course, he understood the depth of her feeling perfectly to say the least - her sorrows as his sorrows, as the elder once claimed likewise of him. Her joys as his, also.

As they unloosed from their tight clutches there remained room only to wallow in the pleasant aftermath of their new, shared reality. For a moment, he watched the dark-haired woman in the fond dedication of her every line and detail to memory. There would be no more long and sleepless nights, fraught and biting days, of how a sister fared far across the horizon. He leaned his cheek into the cup of her palm with assurance; equally as with relish.

"Our new home. . .yes, of course—of course! To that end, we shall have to procure you a spot within the academy. I will put in a word to have you entered into its employ. Your fondness over the humans and notable ability with the lance shall no doubt find you a greatly suitable candidate." Excitable, overeager, the flourishing of a spark in aged crimson eyes that had not existed there before, all due to every meaningful possibility orbiting now within reach. Rafal glowed, for once not two thousand years weary, but as youthful as his approximate appearance of two decades might suggest.

After all, was this not the stuff of dreams? Nel; Rafal; their home made together.

However: a spot of reflection brought the younger to pause thoughtfully, a phantom to consider and easily dispel in the realm of their new life. Every possibility and every concern brought to fore. "—And if they should decline you tenure as faculty, we will simply have you work as a mercenary for the church. I know of a man who might detail the powers of a Fell Dragon most generously."

me and twin when the archbishop try's to separate 𝓾𝓼.

reunion w/ @rafent

[rafent]

[oh no they're cute...]

Rafal had left himself easy open for Alcryst, all but paved the way for him, but that didn't completely blunt the edge of a slimy digit pressing inside that wasn't his own. Human asses were made for things going out, not going in, especially not fingers that belonged to other people. It was a good thing then that he'd gone through the motions more times than he could count. Even better that he wanted this: from Alcryst.

His legs inched apart as the other settled between them, breathing slowing in tandem with his heartbeat to an overly loud thrum he could feel in his throat. He forced himself to relax at the out-of-body sensation; warm twinges like gently stretching a muscle to its limits. Wet, suckling rasps chased every dive and leave of finger. If he weren't so used to it, he might have been surprised at how loud this sound was inside the otherwise quiet room, Alcryst's voice also notwithstanding.

"Hey, look at me," Rafal called for him quietly, almost kindly. At times like these it was easy to tell who exactly had gone this far, and who hadn't even taken the first step before today. Then, with the obvious restraint of a saint: "You don't have to know everything, Alcryst, and I don't expect you to. . .but another finger would be nice."

Spoken tactfully as if doing exactly that would result in Rafal magically snapping Alcryst's fingers off as soon as he added a second; a humorous idea under any other circumstance, but he didn't laugh and didn't mention it - didn't want to risk spooking him away. Knowing how he was maybe that was the belief. His own free hand moved to stroke his dick, face pink and lips moist. Pumping it in time with the other's helping hand. Helping fingers, more rather.

"I can take care of myself. You just—ugh—keep at it. You're a natural." A little puff of breath, a little sprinkle of imagination running rampant behind bleary eyes as he studied Alcryst's adorably unsure expression. Of something fuller and stiffer pulsing inside that belonged equally to him.

✦ 𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ✧

Modern AU, Alcryst & Rafal