onewassilver (
onewassilver) wrote in
angryfistofgod2012-07-07 01:50 am
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just keep following the heartlines on your hands
[ A bottle of rum and a large glass are set before him, his shoulders are in a strong line and he's swirling the amber liquor in it's glass, his eyes trained on it while his glasses were set to the side. It's night time and he's not... sad, per-say, simply... thinking, thinking hard on things. Perhaps remembering too, always remembering.
Slowly, he lifts the glass to his lip and sucks back a small amount, letting it hit the back of his throat and allowing him to breathe for a few seconds, before he sets it down and runs a hand through his hair and follows through to lean the elbow on the table, palm up against his forehead as he gently laughs.
Next to his drink there's an open book. It's Rogers own log, everything told from his perspective. He didn't even know this existed until he visited the Oro'Jackson's resting place, went into that cabin and sad on the dusty bed and went for the comforting -- barely there smell of a man long since dead. He had reached up and knocked a panel of the headboard out and there this lovely little black and silver book rolled out, smelling like everything that was meant to be preserved in this life.
Which, lead him to coming back to Shakkey's bar, promptly sitting down in his usual spot and drinking in each word until Shakkey herself had left (far after the rest of the patrons had stumbled away). The page he's stopped on is obviously the day where the man had asked him the become his 'wife'. Every sloppy letter speaking volumes of things that just made Ray want to forget about the anger he held towards him and just cherish this little thing that reminded him that maybe, despite what he felt sometimes, he never had been second place -- a consolation prize.
That's why he's not depressed, in fact he's just. Affectionate, a little sad, but he's still satisfied..
That's why when he feels the hand on his shoulder he doesn't react, he knows who it is by the grip and he can feel the blank look focused on the back of his head, so when he chuckles again and gives a rasp of; ] Phoenix. [ it's no surprise that he's just drained. ]
Slowly, he lifts the glass to his lip and sucks back a small amount, letting it hit the back of his throat and allowing him to breathe for a few seconds, before he sets it down and runs a hand through his hair and follows through to lean the elbow on the table, palm up against his forehead as he gently laughs.
Next to his drink there's an open book. It's Rogers own log, everything told from his perspective. He didn't even know this existed until he visited the Oro'Jackson's resting place, went into that cabin and sad on the dusty bed and went for the comforting -- barely there smell of a man long since dead. He had reached up and knocked a panel of the headboard out and there this lovely little black and silver book rolled out, smelling like everything that was meant to be preserved in this life.
Which, lead him to coming back to Shakkey's bar, promptly sitting down in his usual spot and drinking in each word until Shakkey herself had left (far after the rest of the patrons had stumbled away). The page he's stopped on is obviously the day where the man had asked him the become his 'wife'. Every sloppy letter speaking volumes of things that just made Ray want to forget about the anger he held towards him and just cherish this little thing that reminded him that maybe, despite what he felt sometimes, he never had been second place -- a consolation prize.
That's why he's not depressed, in fact he's just. Affectionate, a little sad, but he's still satisfied..
That's why when he feels the hand on his shoulder he doesn't react, he knows who it is by the grip and he can feel the blank look focused on the back of his head, so when he chuckles again and gives a rasp of; ] Phoenix. [ it's no surprise that he's just drained. ]
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[ heading to the room, and yes Marco, that IS a giant stack of forgotten books. ] Apparently he took to hiding every book I might've wanted to take back with me. Plus a few that were dear to me. [ yep, speaking in avian! :D ]
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How the hell do you have more than our library? Our library is an entire ballroom!
[Headbutts for never having been told about these before! And he's exaggerating of course, but still, that is a lot of hidden books.]
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[ tickles under the chin and chuckles quietly.]
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What kind of price? [Chirp.]
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[ tickling, all of the tickling and that is him petting through the "hair" flames, Marco. ]
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[Playing up to ego? No, never.]
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Is it even some place still in tact?
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[ Leans into it. ]
As I said, Phoenix... offer me something.
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I don't know what you want.
[Flicks tail in thought.
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doot doot rated R-ish probs
Tell me~? [Crooning seductively in phoenix in Ray's ears before taking off the glasses and putting them on himself, kissing his way down Ray's cheeks.]
FFFFF.... oh marco, keywords, cc.
I'm unsure if this counts as you playing dirty... [ nibbles and yes, those are his hands going for Marco's belt and sash! ]
XDD
Of course I am. And you like it that way. [Sucks in air and glances away, letting Ray have at his neck and digs his fingers into Ray's back, dragging them roughly down the large expanse of muscles and starts working that top off.]
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I will need those back you know. [ his glasses, of course. Tugging Marco's hands away from his shoulders and PINS THEM at his side, moving in and lightly grinding against him.] Tut, tut... still is mating season isn't it? [amused noise.] Must be going mad...
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Mine for now, stole them. [He bites his bottom lip, he's slipping into an old pattern from literally decades ago, a very old game they played, and just ignores the pinned hands, craning his long neck to cover Ray's ears and face in affectionate bites and kisses, returning the favor by using his feet to get Ray's pants down.]
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You've got a good imagination and memory. [His lips curve into a mocking smile despite how perfectly dominated he always winds up in this situation, and he plants a line of kisses down Silvers' jaw.] Use them instead.