Thank you. For letting me make a home in your heart.
( Something he'd been searching for all along, he thinks. Out of place in the north; not a full fit in the West. Wandering here and there, just as the bards had sung of him.
He stays like that for a long longer in happy quiet, but even when he speaks, he doesn't let go. In fact, he doesn't let Ish go if he tries to pull back to look at him. We Are fused now, thank you very much. )
Hey. Do we have to do the carnival? ( Passing the carnival is part of his challenge to himself, so he's not opposed. But also? Honeymoon...... now? ) Your spell's ready, right? Why don't we just go do something else for awhile? What's the carnival for, anyway?
[ he does in fact try to pull back to look at hwylryn properly, and he laughs when he feels resistance. this is okay too, it's cute. ]
Unfortunately, we do. The carnival's are a contract I made with you weeks ago for the chance to get a wish. I can't break a contract and I mean that in a literal sense, and a bit beyond that. If I tried to call it off now, the spell will be cancelled right before it's completed.
[ he may not be able to pull away, but he does tilt his neck to the side to get a somewhat clearer view. it affords a nice view of his neck and the marks hwylryn left there a few days ago (he'll hide them with magic later, just for the trial) ]
So stay safe for me, alright? Even if we have all this figured out, I don't want to be away from you even for a little while.
Got it all figured out, huh. My beloved is a clever one.
( Genuine compliment, despite everything a little weird about him. But he's always genuine, even when he's weird and raw like this. )
I'm in a pretty tough spot, but I'll do my best. If I survived Gwawlyn with some pretty words, I'm sure I can manage this. And then, after...
( ... And then...
... )
... But even if I do, they'll hate me.
( His arms finally begin to loose, his eyes wetting. He had made himself so focused on the after, with Ish and Junior, has so focused on Junior's beautiful admission of love, so he wouldn't feel like this, but these handful of things have - reminded him, have been reminding him, for a little while. )
Maybe, but I have tough competition. [ he means hwylryn of course, and he nuzzles back. those traps really were something, weren't they?
but then the mood shifts, which ish had been expecting. he'll press his lips wherever he can reach and pull his longer cloak than usual over them both. a little pocket of space just for them, behind the shed. ]
I'll never hate you. [ which this isn't about, but ish feels the need to say it regardless. ]
I can't claim to be an unbiased party. [ a smile, soft and wry. ] But you did this for yourself, right? I don't ever want to see you hurt. But I want you around more than that.
I won't tell you they'll understand, but I will tell you that I'm here for you. And you're more beautiful, alluring, dazzling, entrancing, then you were the first day we kissed. Every new part of you that I get to see brings me joy.
But this isn't about me. How can I help you? How can I soothe your heart? Your body?
( Ish is safe, and if there is nothing else he can trust, if there is no other proof in existence arguing against his isolation, there is this - there is Ish.
...
He's quiet, for a time; the tears roll, swallowed up by Ish's cloak. )
... Can you stay with me?
( Sweet, but— )
... I need to do something that's going to hurt a lot.
( He'd ask Ish to do it with him, if he could - it would still hurt, but not as severely to know it as a couple's project, in some perverse way. But he thinks Ish's directive against assisting would extend to this, too, so he won't bother ask.
At the end of the day, this is something he's doing for himself, even if it's something he does to be with Junior and Ish - himself, so he can argue with himself, that he should live. It's only right that he reap the rest of his suffering himself. )
But—when this is over, I'm going to kiss all your wounds. Again and again until you can't remember what it felt like to be sliced open like this, until all you can remember is how my lips and tongue feel on your skin.
[ hwylryn hasn't said what the plan was, but ish can guess with the bruises and the blades laying on the grass. ]
( He presses a kiss against Ish's ear, as he pulls back, teardrops hanging from his eyelashes. )
... When we're less busy... I'd like to hear you say that again, when we're a little less dressed.
( He's gonna pavlov Ish into associating the kisses just by his ear with horny if it's the last thing he does,
This might be the most forward he's been in that regard (maybe), and perhaps it's right that it happens when he's being particularly erratic in every direction, every emotion that torments him on the daily now in overflow.
They might have enjoyed this a little more if they set aside the time to pursue that flirtation instead of proceed with Hwylryn's plan, but this is not yet their time, despite Hwylryn's continued best efforts.
For all he's made of tears, Hwylryn doesn't cry from pain. He's used to it, he says easily, as he carves off portions of himself with a poor hand, not at all used to using a knife. He picks up one of the largest knives in the pile, seeking efficiency and brutality - he hisses at times and sucks in his breath, but, at some point, he begins to talk through it, as if bored with what he's doing.
He sits with Ish, as if this were a bit of pillowtalk, and carves off pieces of himself, and talks vaguely of his travels; of the things he's seen, the people he's met; he asks him where they might go, where this is all over; he asks him what it's like.
He does cry when carving himself, sometimes - recollecting something sad; thinking of the friends he'll lose. Sometimes he laughs, recalling Gwawlyn - fights they'd had, and the way they'd curl up in their den, licking each other's wounds.
The more he bleeds the heavier his breathing gets, and his telling is a little more dizzied. He's losing a lot of blood, but he's pretty sure this much won't kill him; and it hurts a lot, even through the second dose of painkillers he used, it stings; but not so much as Ish's nails in his heart, he says, and not so hotly.
This pain is okay. He says he's even happy for it, since it's a step closer to a future with Ish (at some point, after some swing, he seems a little afraid to include Junior, like he's scared Junior's going to hate him too, after this).
The grass behind the hut is red, red, red, and there's knives abound, pushed haphazard to the side once they were no longer needed. And Hwylryn finally drops his final knife into the pile, the discarded skin pushed up into a separate pile, his skin aching and pulsing and stinging and hurt. )
Ahh . . . Is the reason there's no fire in the castle because you don't like it? ( He wiggles his fingers - ah, that draws on muscles that run into his wrist on one hand, and that stings! He laughs. ) I guess I'll just leave the skin around. There's only so many places to hide things outside the sea . . .
( Half-sitting on his loose legs, he's left wearing the long, white slip he usually wears as his lowest layer, though it's been rolled up to expose his thigh - he had to gash up a bruise G'raha left there. Much of the white's blotted through with red - from his stomach, and chest (though this slip dips low at the chest for precisely this purpose, the straps thin and stringy, so it's more stained at the edges.), and wherever his arms brush against it, which sometimes earns a bodily cringe. The rest of his clothes he had to discard by the knives.
Well, it's fine. It's just a day or so of pain. He's dealt with worse for much longer with Gwawlyn. )
[ the pavlov association is working, and ish might not even be aware. not that he'd mind, but.
the thought and impulse, as strong as it is, slip easily from his mind as hwylryn begins to draw red ribbons upon himself. ish might find it beautiful in any other situation and while part of him still does (red is and will always be his favorite color), and while he's seen worse (cutting up a person into a fine tapestry to hang for all of the town to see), the fact that red begins to completely dye the silver he's been so taken with makes his own heart beat faster. in fear.
the commentary to hwylryn's tales and question are rote and not said with much care, but he does answer them. "Fire's too messy" he says with an air of dislike. "What did you like the most?" about certain places he's visited. he files all that information away for later, listening intently; not understanding gwawlyn one bit, but understanding the devotion all the same.
by the time the tales come to an end and the grass is more red than green, he's listening to hwylryn's heart more than anything else. he can sense how it beats now, sluggish. he can hear the way his lungs labor with every breath. he commits to memory every single ribbon on red, on his arms, on his thigh, on his chest.
his own heart aches and he moves without thinking, feeling the weight of his own magic on his skin as it flares to life in protest. he shouldn't be touching hwylryn right now. any contact he makes could influence the carnival, but he can't just do nothing.
he's never been able to sit back when someone he loves is in pain. carefully, oh so carefully, he gently takes hwylryn into his arms. even doing this makes his skin feel like it's on fire (there's not a trace of this outwardly, because this is his personal magic warring against itself) ]
Hwylryn, your heart— [ his physical heart, his spirtual heart, they're both injured and bruised. he can't do much, but. he dips down to the dip of red on hwylryn's chest, pushing fabric aside with his lips. there's too much red and though he can't do much, he can make this tiny patch white again. the touch of his tongue is gentle in spite of his not so patient laps.
he's never tasted blood before, but like all of hwylryn, he finds it intoxicatingly sweet. ]
and now cw for general gore/injury from this point
( Ish had said he'd kiss his wounds, but some part of him didn't think he'd commit to the act of it - at least, not while they were so fresh. A soft Ah, escapes his lips as Ish gathers him close, and he feels his tongue work at the injury. He stings - it hurts - of course it does; but there's something about Ish's gentle work and the way it feels - wet and warm and soft - against the raucous, slick, and heated pain of his skinless wound - that he can't help but find appeal in.
That, and the way his blood gets on Ish's lips. There's something about it, )
Ish— ( He swallows, tentatively letting his fingers (and not too much else, lest he bleed into his hair) curl lightly into Ish's locks, more because he wants to touch him, somehow; ) You'll get it all over you . . .
( He's so messy right now! And Ish always seems to like keeping himself clean-cut. )
Just this bit— [ murmured carefully as he continues his work. his tongue is hot but his insides are hotter, not entirely the fault of his magic. ]
—I want to help just this bit. [ a little nonsensical, but what he means is; if he can only soothe just this little patch of skin, if he can only ease the ache here, then it'll serve as a reminder for what's to come. their after that they're both working towards. it's a silly thing, but he'd rather literally go up in flames than just sit back and watch hwylryn hurt himself without helping at all.
( Hwylryn will understand better, with nuance, later - much later, after the rush of trial and their grand finale, and Ish is returned, and he finally has a moment to breathe. Right now, he understands vaguely - he understands through instinct alone.
And it makes him happy. He wonders if Ish can taste his heart's beat, slowed as it was before, more vibrant now (always more vibrant, with Ish). )
... Mmm.
( His palms press lightly against Ish's head, as if to encourage him, fingers tangled fully into his hair - still delicate, still mindful not to bleed into him; much more delicate than he had been with himself, his clothes, his hair. )
It feels nice. ( But, then again: ) You always feel nice.
You too. [ his pace quickens, both from the encouragement and roil of magic within him. every second his chest gets tighter, but the pain is nothing compared to what he's seen hwylryn go through today. ]
I can't mark you right now, but I hope this is enough for you to remember I'm here with you. And later, I'll show the rest of you this care too.
( If only Hwyl knew Ish were on the verge of catching fire (hit by Suzanne Collins)... He probably? wouldn't be encouraging this, because, while his love for Ish has taken him in a strange runaround of expression, it'd be hard for him to be so addled to force him to risk it just for a little indulgence. Then again, if he were in a better state of mind, he might suspect this counts as some sort of entanglement, already.
But he doesn't know, and he isn't doing better, and so,
Mmh - faint sounds, not displeased, leave his lips as Ish laps at him. It stings, it hurts, but it feels nice, and he regrets - that once he's done, Ish will have to pull away, and return to his work, and Hwylryn will have to return to go on to deceive Primrose and check with Junior and prepare for trial, and Hwylryn hardly wants that. )
... How could I ever forget? ( Even if Ish hadn't marked his heart, he's made his own heart clear. ) Ish, I...
( Mm, he noses under the rim of his hat if it's remained, pressing a kiss there. )
... Don't stop.
( It feels nice, Ish is too sweet, and he feels like he needs something to cling to when he feels so - adrift. And, for the first time, that's such a scary thing. )
I don't want to. [ but he'll have to, soon. not yet, but very soon. he pushes through, satisfied with his work on his chest.
ish smiles, taking off his hat and placing it on hwylryn's head. for now he can keep that, because he shifts downward, to his thigh. he should have just gone for the gashes on his arm, but he is slowly awakening to his desires. the sight of hwylryn's pale leg, hiked up slip, all being painted red almost drove him mad.
this area he address more urgently, wet pops diligently sweeping away the red, like soap bubbles. ]
Hwylryn is already plenty sexually awakened but he feels like he's going through a whole second one seeing Ish between his legs like that, right up against his upper thigh,
His fingers curl into Ish's hair, as if to press him a little more into the raw wound, his breathing growing a little deeper - not in the same way it has with him delirious and short on blood, but. well. Well. )
. . . Are you enjoying yourself?
( A question that comes with a breathy laugh, and flushed cheeks. )
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( Something he'd been searching for all along, he thinks. Out of place in the north; not a full fit in the West. Wandering here and there, just as the bards had sung of him.
He stays like that for a long longer in happy quiet, but even when he speaks, he doesn't let go. In fact, he doesn't let Ish go if he tries to pull back to look at him. We Are fused now, thank you very much. )
Hey. Do we have to do the carnival? ( Passing the carnival is part of his challenge to himself, so he's not opposed. But also? Honeymoon...... now? ) Your spell's ready, right? Why don't we just go do something else for awhile? What's the carnival for, anyway?
no subject
Unfortunately, we do. The carnival's are a contract I made with you weeks ago for the chance to get a wish. I can't break a contract and I mean that in a literal sense, and a bit beyond that. If I tried to call it off now, the spell will be cancelled right before it's completed.
[ he may not be able to pull away, but he does tilt his neck to the side to get a somewhat clearer view. it affords a nice view of his neck and the marks hwylryn left there a few days ago (he'll hide them with magic later, just for the trial) ]
So stay safe for me, alright? Even if we have all this figured out, I don't want to be away from you even for a little while.
no subject
Got it all figured out, huh. My beloved is a clever one.
( Genuine compliment, despite everything a little weird about him. But he's always genuine, even when he's weird and raw like this. )
I'm in a pretty tough spot, but I'll do my best. If I survived Gwawlyn with some pretty words, I'm sure I can manage this. And then, after...
( ... And then...
... )
... But even if I do, they'll hate me.
( His arms finally begin to loose, his eyes wetting. He had made himself so focused on the after, with Ish and Junior, has so focused on Junior's beautiful admission of love, so he wouldn't feel like this, but these handful of things have - reminded him, have been reminding him, for a little while. )
... Ah... Ish... I've killed my friends.
( :( )
no subject
but then the mood shifts, which ish had been expecting. he'll press his lips wherever he can reach and pull his longer cloak than usual over them both. a little pocket of space just for them, behind the shed. ]
I'll never hate you. [ which this isn't about, but ish feels the need to say it regardless. ]
I can't claim to be an unbiased party. [ a smile, soft and wry. ] But you did this for yourself, right? I don't ever want to see you hurt. But I want you around more than that.
I won't tell you they'll understand, but I will tell you that I'm here for you. And you're more beautiful, alluring, dazzling, entrancing, then you were the first day we kissed. Every new part of you that I get to see brings me joy.
But this isn't about me. How can I help you? How can I soothe your heart? Your body?
no subject
...
He's quiet, for a time; the tears roll, swallowed up by Ish's cloak. )
... Can you stay with me?
( Sweet, but— )
... I need to do something that's going to hurt a lot.
( He'd ask Ish to do it with him, if he could - it would still hurt, but not as severely to know it as a couple's project, in some perverse way. But he thinks Ish's directive against assisting would extend to this, too, so he won't bother ask.
At the end of the day, this is something he's doing for himself, even if it's something he does to be with Junior and Ish - himself, so he can argue with himself, that he should live. It's only right that he reap the rest of his suffering himself. )
no subject
But—when this is over, I'm going to kiss all your wounds. Again and again until you can't remember what it felt like to be sliced open like this, until all you can remember is how my lips and tongue feel on your skin.
[ hwylryn hasn't said what the plan was, but ish can guess with the bruises and the blades laying on the grass. ]
cw: self mutilation
I'd like that.
( He presses a kiss against Ish's ear, as he pulls back, teardrops hanging from his eyelashes. )
... When we're less busy... I'd like to hear you say that again, when we're a little less dressed.
( He's gonna pavlov Ish into associating the kisses just by his ear with horny if it's the last thing he does,
This might be the most forward he's been in that regard (maybe), and perhaps it's right that it happens when he's being particularly erratic in every direction, every emotion that torments him on the daily now in overflow.
They might have enjoyed this a little more if they set aside the time to pursue that flirtation instead of proceed with Hwylryn's plan, but this is not yet their time, despite Hwylryn's continued best efforts.
For all he's made of tears, Hwylryn doesn't cry from pain. He's used to it, he says easily, as he carves off portions of himself with a poor hand, not at all used to using a knife. He picks up one of the largest knives in the pile, seeking efficiency and brutality - he hisses at times and sucks in his breath, but, at some point, he begins to talk through it, as if bored with what he's doing.
He sits with Ish, as if this were a bit of pillowtalk, and carves off pieces of himself, and talks vaguely of his travels; of the things he's seen, the people he's met; he asks him where they might go, where this is all over; he asks him what it's like.
He does cry when carving himself, sometimes - recollecting something sad; thinking of the friends he'll lose. Sometimes he laughs, recalling Gwawlyn - fights they'd had, and the way they'd curl up in their den, licking each other's wounds.
The more he bleeds the heavier his breathing gets, and his telling is a little more dizzied. He's losing a lot of blood, but he's pretty sure this much won't kill him; and it hurts a lot, even through the second dose of painkillers he used, it stings; but not so much as Ish's nails in his heart, he says, and not so hotly.
This pain is okay. He says he's even happy for it, since it's a step closer to a future with Ish (at some point, after some swing, he seems a little afraid to include Junior, like he's scared Junior's going to hate him too, after this).
The grass behind the hut is red, red, red, and there's knives abound, pushed haphazard to the side once they were no longer needed. And Hwylryn finally drops his final knife into the pile, the discarded skin pushed up into a separate pile, his skin aching and pulsing and stinging and hurt. )
Ahh . . . Is the reason there's no fire in the castle because you don't like it? ( He wiggles his fingers - ah, that draws on muscles that run into his wrist on one hand, and that stings! He laughs. ) I guess I'll just leave the skin around. There's only so many places to hide things outside the sea . . .
( Half-sitting on his loose legs, he's left wearing the long, white slip he usually wears as his lowest layer, though it's been rolled up to expose his thigh - he had to gash up a bruise G'raha left there. Much of the white's blotted through with red - from his stomach, and chest (though this slip dips low at the chest for precisely this purpose, the straps thin and stringy, so it's more stained at the edges.), and wherever his arms brush against it, which sometimes earns a bodily cringe. The rest of his clothes he had to discard by the knives.
Well, it's fine. It's just a day or so of pain. He's dealt with worse for much longer with Gwawlyn. )
cw; cont
the thought and impulse, as strong as it is, slip easily from his mind as hwylryn begins to draw red ribbons upon himself. ish might find it beautiful in any other situation and while part of him still does (red is and will always be his favorite color), and while he's seen worse (cutting up a person into a fine tapestry to hang for all of the town to see), the fact that red begins to completely dye the silver he's been so taken with makes his own heart beat faster. in fear.
the commentary to hwylryn's tales and question are rote and not said with much care, but he does answer them. "Fire's too messy" he says with an air of dislike. "What did you like the most?" about certain places he's visited. he files all that information away for later, listening intently; not understanding gwawlyn one bit, but understanding the devotion all the same.
by the time the tales come to an end and the grass is more red than green, he's listening to hwylryn's heart more than anything else. he can sense how it beats now, sluggish. he can hear the way his lungs labor with every breath. he commits to memory every single ribbon on red, on his arms, on his thigh, on his chest.
his own heart aches and he moves without thinking, feeling the weight of his own magic on his skin as it flares to life in protest. he shouldn't be touching hwylryn right now. any contact he makes could influence the carnival, but he can't just do nothing.
he's never been able to sit back when someone he loves is in pain. carefully, oh so carefully, he gently takes hwylryn into his arms. even doing this makes his skin feel like it's on fire (there's not a trace of this outwardly, because this is his personal magic warring against itself) ]
Hwylryn, your heart— [ his physical heart, his spirtual heart, they're both injured and bruised. he can't do much, but. he dips down to the dip of red on hwylryn's chest, pushing fabric aside with his lips. there's too much red and though he can't do much, he can make this tiny patch white again. the touch of his tongue is gentle in spite of his not so patient laps.
he's never tasted blood before, but like all of hwylryn, he finds it intoxicatingly sweet. ]
and now cw for general gore/injury from this point
That, and the way his blood gets on Ish's lips. There's something about it, )
Ish— ( He swallows, tentatively letting his fingers (and not too much else, lest he bleed into his hair) curl lightly into Ish's locks, more because he wants to touch him, somehow; ) You'll get it all over you . . .
( He's so messy right now! And Ish always seems to like keeping himself clean-cut. )
no subject
—I want to help just this bit. [ a little nonsensical, but what he means is; if he can only soothe just this little patch of skin, if he can only ease the ache here, then it'll serve as a reminder for what's to come. their after that they're both working towards. it's a silly thing, but he'd rather literally go up in flames than just sit back and watch hwylryn hurt himself without helping at all.
if you count this as helping. ]
no subject
And it makes him happy. He wonders if Ish can taste his heart's beat, slowed as it was before, more vibrant now (always more vibrant, with Ish). )
... Mmm.
( His palms press lightly against Ish's head, as if to encourage him, fingers tangled fully into his hair - still delicate, still mindful not to bleed into him; much more delicate than he had been with himself, his clothes, his hair. )
It feels nice. ( But, then again: ) You always feel nice.
no subject
I can't mark you right now, but I hope this is enough for you to remember I'm here with you. And later, I'll show the rest of you this care too.
no subject
But he doesn't know, and he isn't doing better, and so,
Mmh - faint sounds, not displeased, leave his lips as Ish laps at him. It stings, it hurts, but it feels nice, and he regrets - that once he's done, Ish will have to pull away, and return to his work, and Hwylryn will have to return to go on to deceive Primrose and check with Junior and prepare for trial, and Hwylryn hardly wants that. )
... How could I ever forget? ( Even if Ish hadn't marked his heart, he's made his own heart clear. ) Ish, I...
( Mm, he noses under the rim of his hat if it's remained, pressing a kiss there. )
... Don't stop.
( It feels nice, Ish is too sweet, and he feels like he needs something to cling to when he feels so - adrift. And, for the first time, that's such a scary thing. )
no subject
ish smiles, taking off his hat and placing it on hwylryn's head. for now he can keep that, because he shifts downward, to his thigh. he should have just gone for the gashes on his arm, but he is slowly awakening to his desires. the sight of hwylryn's pale leg, hiked up slip, all being painted red almost drove him mad.
this area he address more urgently, wet pops diligently sweeping away the red, like soap bubbles. ]
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Hwylryn is already plenty sexually awakened but he feels like he's going through a whole second one seeing Ish between his legs like that, right up against his upper thigh,
His fingers curl into Ish's hair, as if to press him a little more into the raw wound, his breathing growing a little deeper - not in the same way it has with him delirious and short on blood, but. well. Well. )
. . . Are you enjoying yourself?
( A question that comes with a breathy laugh, and flushed cheeks. )
no subject