[IC/OOC] Fade Rift Inbox & Contact

[faithlikeaseed]

(( Need to get a hold of Myr? Drop him a line. Notes, in-person visits, sending crystals, spooky Fade dream shenanigans, you name it. Just specify the type of contact in the first comment of the thread and away we go.

Need to get a hold of the player? Plagueheart#0051 @ Discord or a DW PM is the easiest! ))

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[faithlikeaseed]

[Not the strangest way a lover's ever appeared at Myr's door, but up there in his top five-- Especially for the long bewildering moment it takes him to catch up, somewhere around the time Kostos makes mention of mages, books, corpses. Conveniently, it's about as long as he needs to leave off what he was doing and get over to that same non-metaphorical door.

He is dressed down and barefoot, high-collared summerweight robe left open at the throat. It makes for an inviting glimpse as he tips his head back, feigning a look up at some point over Kostos' right shoulder (close enough; old habits die hard).] And what about their mediums--d'you lot hover around halfway or choose to come in as well?

[Because, please do-- As Myr steps out of the way with a beckoning gesture.

His quarters are as precisely neat as one might expect from someone relying on memory to know where everything resides, a place for everything and everything in its place but for the tangle of knotwork left out on the desk--presumably, what he'd been doing before Kostos showed up.

It's also exactly as dark in there as one might expect for someone who doesn't have to rely on candles. Careful once the door's closed.]

Light? [At least he's had visitors often enough to remember it.]

[exequy]

[ Kostos might be able to torture the metaphor further and answer in earnest, maybe something about windows, but he’s happy enough not to. The point—that they need an open doorway of another kind, one that won’t be left possessed in the aftermath—can wait. ]

Yes, [ he says. He's comfortable in the dark, when it's necessary, but there's presumably more where that glimpse of Myr's neck came from.

In another scenario, one where there had been kissing in an alcove or hands on knees beneath a table before now, Kostos would take his boots off. In this one, that would too presumptuous even for him. He shuts the door and waits just inside it, watchful despite having very little to watch until the light is provided.

Belatedly, an obligatory afterthought: ]

Thank you.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Pleasure before business, in this case; Myr thinks--thinks--he knows enough of Kostos to know it won't be so hard to pick up the earlier thread of conversation once they're less distracted.

But, to the matter at hand--] My pleasure.

[Soon enough, anyway.

They've options for light; he considers them as he makes his practiced way to the desk. Glyphs would be too much, too bright, the brazier not enough even if he stoked it higher. The lantern, then, for the same flickering intimacy as candlelight without all the risk he might overset it, unseeing. He touches two fingers to it, calls fire from Fade to wick.]

There. Come in, [because he hasn't heard Kostos move from the door,] make yourself comfortable. [Or don't, but as for Myr's part he'll be undoing the clasps of his robe now that the matter of the light's settled.]

[exequy]

[ He’s never comfortable, thanks. But now pulling his feet out of his boots isn’t too presumptuous, so Kostos does so, leaves them at the door, shrugs out of the open heavy robe worn over his tunic and trousers to keep him from freezing dramatically to death in the drafty corridors, and pulls the tunic over his head while he steps closer in his socks—all very practiced and efficient, because it isn’t as if there’s a reason to be showy about it.

He stops close enough to hook his fingers around the highest still-fastened clasp Myr is working on. He doesn’t tug hard enough to move him, just enough to pull the robe taut as an offer, or request really, to handle the rest.

Maybe he should say something, especially given the givens. He takes a breath like he means to. But he isn’t good at that part, so he lets the breath back out without adding any words to it. ]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Given the givens, silence might be better; Myr's still got enough of the Circle clinging to him that someone might hear sits heavy in the back of his mind. Old habits die hard; three years without doesn't erase a lifetime of caution.

He takes his hands from what they're doing as Kostos makes that silent invitation, steps in toward him to rest fingers on his arm and trail them upward. Another step--with a twitch of a smile on his lips at that indrawn breath--and he presses the other hand against Kostos' chest, making free with exploring what he hasn't got eyes for any longer. Fine territory, enough to prompt a little hum of satisfaction in the back of his throat, the downward drag of his palm on exposed skin to catch at the waistband of Kostos' trousers.

One thing to hear the descriptions, another to lay hands on the living article.

He tips his head back, lifts his chin as if he could meet the other mage's gaze--this close he can almost fake it--with an expression of mute intent. Finish up with the robe, that look says.

(before the uneasy feeling in his head grows, gets loose--)]