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little_words2018-01-29 07:44 pm
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little_words2018-01-29 07:44 pmlittle_words2017-12-07 07:20 pm(no subject)
It's well past dusk by the time someone comes around to the darker corners of the manor, and by that point Shark is well past the point of inebriation. It's a little disparaging, given that most of his life he'd made it a point to try and match mugs with the best of them, and on more than one occasion had won pouches of gil based on his alcoholic tolerance alone. But it had been moons since he'd actually imbibed himself with the harder-hitting ales, and many more since he'd engaged in a drinking competition with an overeager adventurer. If he weren't teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, doubtless he would have argued with himself over the state of his tolerance - but he had long since crossed over that threshold, and could only blink slowly as the blond-haired miqo'te froze in the middle of taking out the trash and turned towards him.
There was a heavy, pregnant pause. From downstairs the sounds of merrymaking could be heard, and even the beginnings of a boisterous, drunken song - and Shark hiccuped, and drew the bottle to his lips again for another generous gulp. He'd long since forgotten what it was the bartender had given him, but it wasn't as though he were in any state to ascertain it now. The blond miqo'te gave him a once-over as Shark struggled to remember his name with increasing difficulty.
"... Are you..." Mikh'li began, looking torn between being angry and being concerned. Shark couldn't really blame him, given their last encounter, but at the same time he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that.
Since their last meeting, Shark had been frequenting the Drunken Moogle more and more often as his relationship with Sae slowly returned to normal. Or, as normal as could be for the pair of them. The blond miqo'te had also apparently gained a job sometime during the visits, so he and Shark ended up running into far more times than either of them would have liked. It had done nothing to improve their budding acquaintance, but it had done nothing to make it worse, either. It was a situation that was most like avoiding someone you desperately didn't want to interact with, with various results.
"Hey." Mikh'li's voice sounded again and Shark blinked owlishly up at him. The other had taken a few cursory steps forward with his lips pursed and his tail thrashing sporadically behind him. It was hard to tell whether he was going to toss Shark out or help him up. "If you're gonna throw up, you're gonna have to leave. Otherwise, rooms are over that way." The blond thumbed over his shoulder gruffly, and, apparently satisfied with that minimal effort, turned on his heel to leave.
"Wait." Shark's voice was slurred even to his own ears, and he had to pause to compose himself in a more dignified manner. Surprisingly enough, Mikh'li did take pause, and turned with a suspicious look on his face and a set to his jaw that did nothing to make him look hospitable. Shark took a deep breath, lifted a hand - and beckoned the other closer. Even the gesture of his hand made his vision swim, when he looked at it, and it took a considerable amount of effort to fix his gaze on the face of the blond in front of him.
"I need some help up."
"I can go and get someone from security," Mikh'li began, but Shark shook his head. A mistake, when the world seemed to swim with it. The blond's eyes turned flat in disbelief, and his lips pursed together even harder.
"If you go I'll probably make a mess before you come back."
Another pause fell between them, and Mikh'li's eyes darted from Shark to the rooms, and then to the stairs leading to the bar. It appeared he was doing the calculations to see how long it would take for him to fetch someone else to tend to Shark on a busy night, and also the likelihood of them getting down before the brunet made a mess; which would undoubtedly fall to Mikh'li's responsibility to clean up. Shark didn't know how Free Company hierarchies worked, but given his own experience as one of the newest of the guilds' bitch errand boys, he didn't doubt that Mikh'li's newly recruited status ensured he got the brunt of the dirty work.
"...Fine." The other miqo'te said after what seemed like an eternity, and took a few steps forward to hold a hand out to Shark. Shark made a swipe that missed the first few times, Mikh'li's expression growing all the more exasperated the whole while - and when he finally managed to clasp at the blond's fingers, Mikh'li tugged him up with such intense force borne out of a desperate need to be done with the situation as quickly as possible that Shark stumbled and fell bodily into the other with a wheeze of breath. The fact that they were still able to keep upright probably said as much about Shark's current physical health than Mikh'li's physical strength; he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a full, proper meal.
Regardless, there were a few precarious moments where they wavered - Mikh'li muttering a sharp curse as he tried to get his bearing - and then they were fine, and Shark was more or less draped over the miqo'te's torso with his feet instinctively struggling to make sense of where they were before his brain could catch up. The bottle laid long forgotten in a pile of cushions that were slowly soaking up what remained of the liquor, and Shark lifted his head to blink blearily up at the blond. Mikh'li's nose wrinkled, oversensitive to the smell of alcohol, and his disgusted expression was enough to earn a grin from Shark before he dropped his head and retched all over the miqo'te's shoes.
Needless to say, that didn't improve their relationship.
There was a heavy, pregnant pause. From downstairs the sounds of merrymaking could be heard, and even the beginnings of a boisterous, drunken song - and Shark hiccuped, and drew the bottle to his lips again for another generous gulp. He'd long since forgotten what it was the bartender had given him, but it wasn't as though he were in any state to ascertain it now. The blond miqo'te gave him a once-over as Shark struggled to remember his name with increasing difficulty.
"... Are you..." Mikh'li began, looking torn between being angry and being concerned. Shark couldn't really blame him, given their last encounter, but at the same time he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that.
Since their last meeting, Shark had been frequenting the Drunken Moogle more and more often as his relationship with Sae slowly returned to normal. Or, as normal as could be for the pair of them. The blond miqo'te had also apparently gained a job sometime during the visits, so he and Shark ended up running into far more times than either of them would have liked. It had done nothing to improve their budding acquaintance, but it had done nothing to make it worse, either. It was a situation that was most like avoiding someone you desperately didn't want to interact with, with various results.
"Hey." Mikh'li's voice sounded again and Shark blinked owlishly up at him. The other had taken a few cursory steps forward with his lips pursed and his tail thrashing sporadically behind him. It was hard to tell whether he was going to toss Shark out or help him up. "If you're gonna throw up, you're gonna have to leave. Otherwise, rooms are over that way." The blond thumbed over his shoulder gruffly, and, apparently satisfied with that minimal effort, turned on his heel to leave.
"Wait." Shark's voice was slurred even to his own ears, and he had to pause to compose himself in a more dignified manner. Surprisingly enough, Mikh'li did take pause, and turned with a suspicious look on his face and a set to his jaw that did nothing to make him look hospitable. Shark took a deep breath, lifted a hand - and beckoned the other closer. Even the gesture of his hand made his vision swim, when he looked at it, and it took a considerable amount of effort to fix his gaze on the face of the blond in front of him.
"I need some help up."
"I can go and get someone from security," Mikh'li began, but Shark shook his head. A mistake, when the world seemed to swim with it. The blond's eyes turned flat in disbelief, and his lips pursed together even harder.
"If you go I'll probably make a mess before you come back."
Another pause fell between them, and Mikh'li's eyes darted from Shark to the rooms, and then to the stairs leading to the bar. It appeared he was doing the calculations to see how long it would take for him to fetch someone else to tend to Shark on a busy night, and also the likelihood of them getting down before the brunet made a mess; which would undoubtedly fall to Mikh'li's responsibility to clean up. Shark didn't know how Free Company hierarchies worked, but given his own experience as one of the newest of the guilds' bitch errand boys, he didn't doubt that Mikh'li's newly recruited status ensured he got the brunt of the dirty work.
"...Fine." The other miqo'te said after what seemed like an eternity, and took a few steps forward to hold a hand out to Shark. Shark made a swipe that missed the first few times, Mikh'li's expression growing all the more exasperated the whole while - and when he finally managed to clasp at the blond's fingers, Mikh'li tugged him up with such intense force borne out of a desperate need to be done with the situation as quickly as possible that Shark stumbled and fell bodily into the other with a wheeze of breath. The fact that they were still able to keep upright probably said as much about Shark's current physical health than Mikh'li's physical strength; he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a full, proper meal.
Regardless, there were a few precarious moments where they wavered - Mikh'li muttering a sharp curse as he tried to get his bearing - and then they were fine, and Shark was more or less draped over the miqo'te's torso with his feet instinctively struggling to make sense of where they were before his brain could catch up. The bottle laid long forgotten in a pile of cushions that were slowly soaking up what remained of the liquor, and Shark lifted his head to blink blearily up at the blond. Mikh'li's nose wrinkled, oversensitive to the smell of alcohol, and his disgusted expression was enough to earn a grin from Shark before he dropped his head and retched all over the miqo'te's shoes.
Needless to say, that didn't improve their relationship.
little_words2017-12-06 10:43 pm(no subject)
It wasn't really a surprise that the revelation had happened now, Shark pondered dully, all things considering. There were plenty of people who found physical strength attractive in a potential partner, and gods knew that's one of the things that had attracted him to Sae the first few times they'd met. But Sae had possessed a humble, quiet strength; he was not ostentatious, and he was not overeager in looking for a bout in order to prove how strong he was. If the Keeper could have had it his way, Shark didn't doubt that the other would have simply kept to himself for the rest of his life, living in quiet solitude in a tree somewhere far from civilization.
There were other things that had made their relationship work, of course, but Sae's strength was one of the things that had stood out the most about him. And, if Shark had to be completely honest with himself, the notion that his former lover could easily snap his neck with his bare hands was an appealing one, moreso given the fact of Shark's nature and all the dark secrets that came with it.
He told himself that his attraction to Sae was the only reason why he was reacting now, pinned to his back by a very shirtless, very tanned Seeker with the beginnings of flames dying down into mere sparks in Shark's hands. From above, Li'ur Nunh grinned in a flash of teeth and crowed his victory over the Keeper trapped under his weight. Even without the impressive muscles lining his arms and legs and abdomen, the Seeker exuded a deep rooted sense of confidence that would have been hard to beat out regardless of the outcome of their duel. Shark liked to think that the few places where Li'ur sported reddened, raw flesh was where his flames had hit the hardest, but that had done little to curry the duel in his favor, and it was hard for him to feel anything except the bitter tang of defeat.
Leave it up to brawn to win out over magic in the end. Sometimes the gods were too merciless.
"You should eat more greens, Shark." Li'ur remarked in a tone that was more mocking than it should have been. Shark felt his expression draw into a moue of discontent, and he bent his legs as best he could under Li'ur's hold. Needless to say, he didn't get very much movement, and the furrowing of his brow only deepened. The Seeker seemed to notice this and laughed, and a few strands of his reddish-purple hair fell into his eyes.
Shark's fingers itched with the urge to brush them away, and he had to fight the feeling of revulsion that sprang up as a result of that. He'd known Li'ur for moons, and the Seeker had been more like a brother than anything. He'd recalled to mind the last time they'd sat together comfortably, and the barbs and jabs they'd traded made it feel like he'd finally met someone who could dish it as well as he did. Li'ur was kind in his own way, but it wasn't the sort that made him weak in the knees or melt into a puddle of gratitude at every warm smile or nod that was sent his way; Li'ur was fire, like Shark. The only difference was, Li'ur could keep a calm head and could actually hit worth a damn - which was probably how they'd wound up in this situation in the first place.
"... I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Shark's golden eyes snapped back to the Seeker's face, and with a start he realized he'd been staring overlong at the flexing of Li'ur's arms, the heaving of his chest, the sheen of sweat covering tanned skin glistening in the sunlight -- no. No, no, no. The brunet shook his head and attempted to flex his arms free of the Seeker's grip, which did not budge like before. He was rewarded with a grin and a tightening of the hold until Shark felt his teeth grit in discomfort, and he snapped his head forward to face Li'ur again, eyes half-lidding into a look of indifference.
It didn't quite get the reaction he wanted.
"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up."
"Shut up." The Keeper snapped back, trying and failing to hide the sulk from his voice. Li'ur caught it almost immediately and laughed, and at long last the brunet's arms were released as the Seeker raised both his arms in a languid stretch that drew Shark's gaze to the sinuous pull and tug of muscles under skin, as hypnotic as a constricting snake and --
-- Twelve help him, he was hard.
Li'ur noticed this immediately and paused. It would have been a mercy that he not look down, but of course the gods chose this particular day to hate Shark, and the Seeker did. Shark took the opportunity to sit up quickly, as though that would help hide the fact of his arousal, but there was no mistaking the hard press of flesh against Li'ur's own, or the flush on his cheeks when Li'ur's gaze dragged up to meet Shark's own with an unreadable expression in his eyes. The Keeper didn't look away, but held the gaze steady, as though daring the other to say something.
The silence between them was broken by the sound of a church bell tolling somewhere far off in the Thanalans. Li'ur opened his mouth to speak, Shark hissed - and the Seeker broke out into a peal of laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Shark drew his fist back and punched him across the jaw, as hard as he could. Li'ur didn't stop laughing.
There were other things that had made their relationship work, of course, but Sae's strength was one of the things that had stood out the most about him. And, if Shark had to be completely honest with himself, the notion that his former lover could easily snap his neck with his bare hands was an appealing one, moreso given the fact of Shark's nature and all the dark secrets that came with it.
He told himself that his attraction to Sae was the only reason why he was reacting now, pinned to his back by a very shirtless, very tanned Seeker with the beginnings of flames dying down into mere sparks in Shark's hands. From above, Li'ur Nunh grinned in a flash of teeth and crowed his victory over the Keeper trapped under his weight. Even without the impressive muscles lining his arms and legs and abdomen, the Seeker exuded a deep rooted sense of confidence that would have been hard to beat out regardless of the outcome of their duel. Shark liked to think that the few places where Li'ur sported reddened, raw flesh was where his flames had hit the hardest, but that had done little to curry the duel in his favor, and it was hard for him to feel anything except the bitter tang of defeat.
Leave it up to brawn to win out over magic in the end. Sometimes the gods were too merciless.
"You should eat more greens, Shark." Li'ur remarked in a tone that was more mocking than it should have been. Shark felt his expression draw into a moue of discontent, and he bent his legs as best he could under Li'ur's hold. Needless to say, he didn't get very much movement, and the furrowing of his brow only deepened. The Seeker seemed to notice this and laughed, and a few strands of his reddish-purple hair fell into his eyes.
Shark's fingers itched with the urge to brush them away, and he had to fight the feeling of revulsion that sprang up as a result of that. He'd known Li'ur for moons, and the Seeker had been more like a brother than anything. He'd recalled to mind the last time they'd sat together comfortably, and the barbs and jabs they'd traded made it feel like he'd finally met someone who could dish it as well as he did. Li'ur was kind in his own way, but it wasn't the sort that made him weak in the knees or melt into a puddle of gratitude at every warm smile or nod that was sent his way; Li'ur was fire, like Shark. The only difference was, Li'ur could keep a calm head and could actually hit worth a damn - which was probably how they'd wound up in this situation in the first place.
"... I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Shark's golden eyes snapped back to the Seeker's face, and with a start he realized he'd been staring overlong at the flexing of Li'ur's arms, the heaving of his chest, the sheen of sweat covering tanned skin glistening in the sunlight -- no. No, no, no. The brunet shook his head and attempted to flex his arms free of the Seeker's grip, which did not budge like before. He was rewarded with a grin and a tightening of the hold until Shark felt his teeth grit in discomfort, and he snapped his head forward to face Li'ur again, eyes half-lidding into a look of indifference.
It didn't quite get the reaction he wanted.
"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up."
"Shut up." The Keeper snapped back, trying and failing to hide the sulk from his voice. Li'ur caught it almost immediately and laughed, and at long last the brunet's arms were released as the Seeker raised both his arms in a languid stretch that drew Shark's gaze to the sinuous pull and tug of muscles under skin, as hypnotic as a constricting snake and --
-- Twelve help him, he was hard.
Li'ur noticed this immediately and paused. It would have been a mercy that he not look down, but of course the gods chose this particular day to hate Shark, and the Seeker did. Shark took the opportunity to sit up quickly, as though that would help hide the fact of his arousal, but there was no mistaking the hard press of flesh against Li'ur's own, or the flush on his cheeks when Li'ur's gaze dragged up to meet Shark's own with an unreadable expression in his eyes. The Keeper didn't look away, but held the gaze steady, as though daring the other to say something.
The silence between them was broken by the sound of a church bell tolling somewhere far off in the Thanalans. Li'ur opened his mouth to speak, Shark hissed - and the Seeker broke out into a peal of laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Shark drew his fist back and punched him across the jaw, as hard as he could. Li'ur didn't stop laughing.