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mermaids -- SPIN THE BOTTLE FICLETS. >O
So I wanted to write kissing ficlets with my ofic cast. But who with who!
And the answer was, AT RANDOM.
At first I wanted to make it a contest with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sarolynne, like we'd each choose two characters at random in the other one's story, and we'd write something on the same theme for the couple, but inspiration wasn't with her today, so. Maybe another day. (I still want more of the MtF fantasy. yess. >.>)
But now I have four ficlet-things. The kisses aren't canon for my ficverse... Or maybe they are. I haven't decided yet. >__> Characterization might be wavering alittle, too. Also I really need to lower the sugary quotient on the Blue/Liadan interaction. Eww. XD;
Rusty water drips steadily from the decrepit awnings supposed to protect the sidewalks. Alind splashes forward, resolutely ignoring the asshole dogging her heels. "Come on," he begs, "I can't lose you, I love you, babe, please come back," and then he switches over to "What are you gonna do without me, eh? No job references, no nothing. You'll be stranded here. You need me too."
She doesn't care what he says anymore, because he already let the truth slip out. He doesn't want her as a lover, he wants her as a cheap navigator who also happens to be a convenient piece of tail.
As it turns out, she wanted him because he was damn good in bed, but her pride as a navigator demands a lot more stroking than her womanbits. She's got a vibrator anyway.
He tries to catch her arm, and that's it, that's the last straw. She looks up, waves imperiously at some random guy who's watching them on the other side of the street, and crosses the road in five big steps. A couple of cars screech when they see her leap over the barriers, but she cares more about the dirty rainwater soaked into her pant legs; a good thing she planned on throwing the ex-asshole's gifts away. And then she's pressed against the watcher's chest, grinning sharp and mean; if he doesn't play along, she might bite him. They're the same size -- she has an inch on him, really -- and she doesn't care for that much, but she thinks at least he's not ugly. His eyes at least are gorgeous; she wonders where he got the surgery done.
He arches an eyebrow, but when she leans into him for a kiss, he meets her in the middle. He's calm and steady, his hands strong on her back. He doesn't take liberties. She sort of wished he would, mostly to rub it in.
He's too controlled, there's not much chemistry. Might be because of the audience, though -- her ex-asshole is gaping a few steps to the side. If this goes any farther than macking on a sidewalk, she's making Green-Eyes shave. She doesn't enjoy moustache-burn on her ladybits.
Eventually, they're alone, and he lets go. She steps back, flicks a lock of blond hair away casually.
He looks her over, slow, missing nothing -- stops on her chest. Alind puts her hands on her hips. He's going to have to tread carefully -- if he mentions her rack isn't big enough, she might take it upon herself to ensure that his dick is never big enough, either. If he mentions it crudely, she might take off the whole package. She's got a knife and she watched a lot of surgeon movies.
He looks up at her face, smirks a little, quietly laughing; not at her, but with her. "Nice badge. Astrogater's guild, hm?"
And then he asks her if she's looking for a ride. She know he doesn't mean it as innuendo, and that's what makes her grin and say "Sure. Do I get free batteries?"
+
Arun had to leave Lìadan behind; he hates that, but he couldn't carry her to freedom without first clearing the way. At least the pirates saw the tail and thought it meant she didn't need to be tied up either; her claws made short work of the tape binding his wrists and legs together.
He sneaks down the corridor, light on his feet, almost not breathing. He strains, but can't hear anything. They're out, maybe; but he needs to confirm. He listens, listens so hard he forgets to watch, and then he trips on something, a something that yowls its feline outrage at a volume that belongs on a lion. Oh, shit. He tries to grab it, but it zips off behind a bent in the corridor, and when he takes the turn after it, he rams into someone he didn't even know was there.
She's so petite the impact sends her flying; she bumps against the wall hard and crumples, a few locks of dark hair sliding free from her heavy bun to shadow her eyes. Arun pales. She's a pirate, he shouldn't care, but she looks so tiny. He wants to lean over her and check, but she might kick, he doesn't know. The cat is hissing at him; the noise makes her groan quietly and look up.
She cringes when she sees him looming. Her eyes are a strange, exotic hazel that looks almost golden. Her lower lip trembles. "Please -- please don't..."
"I'm not -- just be quiet and I won't hurt you," he says, trying to think of a place where he could lock her up safely. "Get up," he adds, and manages to make it impatient and stern enough to be convincing. Hopefully.
She climbs on her feet, leaning against the wall, and then she stumbles. He reaches to steady her; her head lolls and she swoons. Tense with nerves, he catches her, steadies her against his side, feels for a telltale bump on her head.
Her moist lips open, just barely, just enough. "Please," she begs quietly, brushing her lips against his chin in a way that makes him go cold. What happened to her, that she thinks she must -- that she thinks that?
She kisses his lips this time, making a soft, fearful noise as her hands crawl up his chest, nervous; he pats her shoulder awkwardly, trying to be soothing. And then her thumbs are pressed on his jugular, and in a few seconds his eyelids flutters and he slumps.
The oldest trick in the book, really. She didn't think it would actually work. Oriana snorts, picks up her cat, and goes to find someone to bind the prisoner again.
+
There are tiny red plastic balls, emerging from strangely dented green frills suspended over every single airlock the ship has, and Blue doesn't know when they got there or why. It's like they just sprouted into existence, and that's slightly worrisome.
Khiaw sees him standing at the kitchen door and joins him, smiling faintly. He's wearing a white shirt with the top buttons undone, giving teasing peeks of throat and the hollow of a collarbone, and when he speaks, Blue has almost forgotten what he was wondering about.
"It's a midwinter tradition for Oriana's people."
"Huh," Blue replies intelligently as he gives the red bubbles and green triangles a confused frown. "Weird."
Khiaw chuckles quietly, and Blue reaches up to poke at the things, so that his eyes won't betray the shiver that voice is sending down his back. He's sure Khiaw would be very discreet about it, if he noticed. Very understanding and accepting. He would never breathe a word of Blue's stupid schoolboy crush to anyone else.
It kinda pisses Blue off, just a bit. The little thrills he gets around his captain are fun in their own way, but they would be funnier if he knew there was a chance in hell it might end in more than him wanking in the machine room. Khiaw's got this weird policy where he thinks he should be fucking them all or none at all, to avoid interpersonal messes; but the other guys are straight -- though Darel's mancrush is as bad as Blue's, just a little more platonic -- and Lujayn is as interested in sleeping with Khiaw as a leopard in sleeping with a tiger. Mostly it's an excuse to keep Oriana, Alind, and Blue at bay.
"Apparently, the tradition demands that people who meet in a doorway exchange a kiss."
"Really," he replies, noncommittal, not even sneaking a glance at him. Khiaw's feelings do that weird smooth-ripple thing, and he smiles his little secret smile, and his green, green eyes glint like a big, well-fed cat who's letting a mouse go just because he feels like it, and that's it, Blue can't take it anymore, the sexiness and the subtle teasing and the blank wall that refuses him insight. "Well, if it's tradition."
He's almost a head taller than his captain, but then Khiaw isn't that tall to begin with. He swoops down, hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the doorjamb -- not hard, but firmly. Khiaw started it, by coming to meet him in the doorway and mentioning the tradition. It's like he wants to be kissed. Who is Blue to deny him?
He seals their mouths together, tongue tracing the seam of Khiaw's lips, pushing his way in.
That's about as long as he stays in total control.
Next thing he knows, his mouth is under assault, his lips are tingling; he can feel teeth catching his tongue, just tight enough to be threatening, and then it's released only for Khiaw to counterattack, invading his mouth thoroughly. Suddenly he isn't looming over Khiaw, he's leaning on him, because his knees are weak and his underwear is growing constricting, oh god, what the hell is going on, he thought Khiaw wasn't allowed to make a move. Goddamn it, Blue knows as well as anyone how volatile are relationships on a spaceship crew; they had a balance, why is he doing that now -- oh, tongue, sliding in and out of his mouth, he wonders if Khiaw fucks like that, long and slow, lazily powerful... no, wait, it's bad, what if Oriana sees, and then Vartan will -- and Dhaval -- Lujayn...
Khiaw lets him go, with that same little smirk on reddened, damp lips. Maybe the smirk is a little softer, Blue is still a little too stunned to tell.
"See? It wasn't what you wanted after all."
Khiaw pats his shoulder and walks off, leaving Blue alone in the doorway to the kitchen, with his lips still red and puffy and a tent in his pants.
He glares up at the red and green plastic. He's going to have a grand time hunting every single one of these bastards and throwing them into the recycler. And if anyone else tries to kiss him, he's kicking their asses.
But first, he has to masturbate.
+
He knows that a lot of the cripples are 'paths. When they visit a village, it crackles against his skin, a brouhaha of whispers too soft and too tangled for him to get anything out of it. It's not a surprise that the mer would be, too; they're where the cripples come from, after all.
They only ever talk to their own people, and he doesn't know if it's a relief or not, to have the background so much more full, but all of it cautiously aimed away from him. Half the time it's good, the rest of the time he wonders what they're saying behind his back.
Lìadan never slips. Sometimes he feels her dream, but only when she forgets herself. He's not one of hers, so she doesn't touch him.
Alarm/embarrassment.
Except now, apparently. He frowns, looks around -- there's no fear in her yet, and no wariness; it's probably not an enemy pod. He's not sure she's even sending to him, it's more of a general thing. Loud, though, a lot louder than the whispers of barely-rated minds.
Frustration/annoyance/feelsillynow.
... He blinks; the last concept was more complex than what he usually receives. More streamlined, not as static-y.
Help?/sillygirl/driftinglost/help?
He's on his feet, shotgun over his shoulder, and he stalks down the line of the island, looking for the source of the call. If she's anywhere but on the beach, she'll be fucked, because he can't swim.
Needyou/malemine/help?
His eyes widen a little. There's a quick flutter of anguished frustration -- not anything intentional, but he's a receiver, not a sender; intent makes little difference to him, he still feels it. Feels her. She's close now. She feels silly because she called to Blue (and Arun, okay, let's forget him for now) like she would call for her father or brothers or uncles, and Blue and Arun are not answering, of course, they can't; and she should know better than to think two-tails might be pod, even secretly, to herself; acknowledging it is even stupider.
He finds her only because the line at the end of the pier shakes in rhythm with her emotions. He leans over the edge of the narrow, moldy planks, wary; she looks back at him with wide, guilty eyes, with her hair like a gray cloud behind her, and the lines of the net thoroughly tangled around her body, digging into soft flesh.
He would laugh, but he has no clue how long she can stay underwater before she drowns. Too bad for the line; he cuts through the complex knot with one swipe, and drags the tangled mess of a net along as he negotiates his way back to the beach. The planks wobble and creak under his weight, and he grits his teeth and ignores the cold depths underneath. He's not going to drown them both.
She isn't sending anymore. She just breathes, when he manages to pull the net in a way that lets her reach the surface, and she waits.
He jumps in the water when it still reaches his thighs, and sweeps her up in his arms, lifting her chest over the waves. The net still tangles her, trapping an arm along her side and the other one curled just under her breasts, twisting her tail into a painful loop. The net imprints lozenges into her skin, and there's wet hair wrapped and tangled all over her chest, and it's the first time he sees her blush.
"Blue find me, thank you."
"Next time be more careful," he says gruffly as he reaches the beach. He's still aware of her -- hard not to, they're touching -- but it's all below the surface now, nothing he's privy to. He goes to put her down; the sand isn't stable under his weight and he ends up sitting in the shallows with a captive mermaid on his lap.
She blinks at him over the sudden change of altitude. "Blue?"
He shrugs, not looking at her face as he tries to untangle the net. It's frustrating, he thinks he might be better off just cutting her free. She'd protest, though. Good nets must be worth quite a bit on this world. So he ends up flipping her from face to back and feeling up her back and tail as he looks for the knot -- ah, there it is, a hook that caught onto a rope...
By the time he has her upper body free, she's laughing, acute embarrassment pushed aside for the moment. He arches an eyebrow; true, she looks rather silly right now. She tries to explain, but she doesn't know enough words and Blue isn't willing to pantomime enough to offer her guesses.
And then she offers him a memory -- children on the waves, throwing a ball at each other. Except today Lìadan is the ball and Blue is so serious! This is a serious game, yes. Ball-Lìadan. Most serious game of all.
Before he thinks better of it, he's laughing with her.
"Do I even want to know how you did that to yourself?" he asks, still chuckling; he gets a "Um?" and a didnothing/goodgirl/notsillyatall in answer.
"Sure, I believe you." And then he's kissing her, as an apology almost. It's soft and light. She tastes salty, slightly metallic, and he fails to be surprised. She's tense in his arms, confused; her mind once again out of reach.
"Giving breath," she says quietly, eyes wide with surprise. "Give breath to me?"
There are a hundred things under that word, a hundred things buzzing in her brain, just a little too complex for him to catch. She's not angry, though, so he grunts a "yeah?" and shrugs, as if he doesn't care.
She stays quiet for the longest time, voice and mind both. He pretends he's not starting to feel nervous. When she opens her mouth to speak, he's expecting something huge, like maybe he just promised to battle all the sea dragons of the area for her hand somehow.
She just says "Okay," and she nods, and flips off his lap to squirm the rest of the way out of the net, and that's the end of it.
But now she pings him sometimes, I'mhere/areyouhere? And when he's not busy and he goes to meet her, sometimes she brushes a kiss against his lips, and she smiles.
And the answer was, AT RANDOM.
At first I wanted to make it a contest with
sarolynne, like we'd each choose two characters at random in the other one's story, and we'd write something on the same theme for the couple, but inspiration wasn't with her today, so. Maybe another day. (I still want more of the MtF fantasy. yess. >.>)But now I have four ficlet-things. The kisses aren't canon for my ficverse... Or maybe they are. I haven't decided yet. >__> Characterization might be wavering alittle, too. Also I really need to lower the sugary quotient on the Blue/Liadan interaction. Eww. XD;
Rusty water drips steadily from the decrepit awnings supposed to protect the sidewalks. Alind splashes forward, resolutely ignoring the asshole dogging her heels. "Come on," he begs, "I can't lose you, I love you, babe, please come back," and then he switches over to "What are you gonna do without me, eh? No job references, no nothing. You'll be stranded here. You need me too."
She doesn't care what he says anymore, because he already let the truth slip out. He doesn't want her as a lover, he wants her as a cheap navigator who also happens to be a convenient piece of tail.
As it turns out, she wanted him because he was damn good in bed, but her pride as a navigator demands a lot more stroking than her womanbits. She's got a vibrator anyway.
He tries to catch her arm, and that's it, that's the last straw. She looks up, waves imperiously at some random guy who's watching them on the other side of the street, and crosses the road in five big steps. A couple of cars screech when they see her leap over the barriers, but she cares more about the dirty rainwater soaked into her pant legs; a good thing she planned on throwing the ex-asshole's gifts away. And then she's pressed against the watcher's chest, grinning sharp and mean; if he doesn't play along, she might bite him. They're the same size -- she has an inch on him, really -- and she doesn't care for that much, but she thinks at least he's not ugly. His eyes at least are gorgeous; she wonders where he got the surgery done.
He arches an eyebrow, but when she leans into him for a kiss, he meets her in the middle. He's calm and steady, his hands strong on her back. He doesn't take liberties. She sort of wished he would, mostly to rub it in.
He's too controlled, there's not much chemistry. Might be because of the audience, though -- her ex-asshole is gaping a few steps to the side. If this goes any farther than macking on a sidewalk, she's making Green-Eyes shave. She doesn't enjoy moustache-burn on her ladybits.
Eventually, they're alone, and he lets go. She steps back, flicks a lock of blond hair away casually.
He looks her over, slow, missing nothing -- stops on her chest. Alind puts her hands on her hips. He's going to have to tread carefully -- if he mentions her rack isn't big enough, she might take it upon herself to ensure that his dick is never big enough, either. If he mentions it crudely, she might take off the whole package. She's got a knife and she watched a lot of surgeon movies.
He looks up at her face, smirks a little, quietly laughing; not at her, but with her. "Nice badge. Astrogater's guild, hm?"
And then he asks her if she's looking for a ride. She know he doesn't mean it as innuendo, and that's what makes her grin and say "Sure. Do I get free batteries?"
+
Arun had to leave Lìadan behind; he hates that, but he couldn't carry her to freedom without first clearing the way. At least the pirates saw the tail and thought it meant she didn't need to be tied up either; her claws made short work of the tape binding his wrists and legs together.
He sneaks down the corridor, light on his feet, almost not breathing. He strains, but can't hear anything. They're out, maybe; but he needs to confirm. He listens, listens so hard he forgets to watch, and then he trips on something, a something that yowls its feline outrage at a volume that belongs on a lion. Oh, shit. He tries to grab it, but it zips off behind a bent in the corridor, and when he takes the turn after it, he rams into someone he didn't even know was there.
She's so petite the impact sends her flying; she bumps against the wall hard and crumples, a few locks of dark hair sliding free from her heavy bun to shadow her eyes. Arun pales. She's a pirate, he shouldn't care, but she looks so tiny. He wants to lean over her and check, but she might kick, he doesn't know. The cat is hissing at him; the noise makes her groan quietly and look up.
She cringes when she sees him looming. Her eyes are a strange, exotic hazel that looks almost golden. Her lower lip trembles. "Please -- please don't..."
"I'm not -- just be quiet and I won't hurt you," he says, trying to think of a place where he could lock her up safely. "Get up," he adds, and manages to make it impatient and stern enough to be convincing. Hopefully.
She climbs on her feet, leaning against the wall, and then she stumbles. He reaches to steady her; her head lolls and she swoons. Tense with nerves, he catches her, steadies her against his side, feels for a telltale bump on her head.
Her moist lips open, just barely, just enough. "Please," she begs quietly, brushing her lips against his chin in a way that makes him go cold. What happened to her, that she thinks she must -- that she thinks that?
She kisses his lips this time, making a soft, fearful noise as her hands crawl up his chest, nervous; he pats her shoulder awkwardly, trying to be soothing. And then her thumbs are pressed on his jugular, and in a few seconds his eyelids flutters and he slumps.
The oldest trick in the book, really. She didn't think it would actually work. Oriana snorts, picks up her cat, and goes to find someone to bind the prisoner again.
+
There are tiny red plastic balls, emerging from strangely dented green frills suspended over every single airlock the ship has, and Blue doesn't know when they got there or why. It's like they just sprouted into existence, and that's slightly worrisome.
Khiaw sees him standing at the kitchen door and joins him, smiling faintly. He's wearing a white shirt with the top buttons undone, giving teasing peeks of throat and the hollow of a collarbone, and when he speaks, Blue has almost forgotten what he was wondering about.
"It's a midwinter tradition for Oriana's people."
"Huh," Blue replies intelligently as he gives the red bubbles and green triangles a confused frown. "Weird."
Khiaw chuckles quietly, and Blue reaches up to poke at the things, so that his eyes won't betray the shiver that voice is sending down his back. He's sure Khiaw would be very discreet about it, if he noticed. Very understanding and accepting. He would never breathe a word of Blue's stupid schoolboy crush to anyone else.
It kinda pisses Blue off, just a bit. The little thrills he gets around his captain are fun in their own way, but they would be funnier if he knew there was a chance in hell it might end in more than him wanking in the machine room. Khiaw's got this weird policy where he thinks he should be fucking them all or none at all, to avoid interpersonal messes; but the other guys are straight -- though Darel's mancrush is as bad as Blue's, just a little more platonic -- and Lujayn is as interested in sleeping with Khiaw as a leopard in sleeping with a tiger. Mostly it's an excuse to keep Oriana, Alind, and Blue at bay.
"Apparently, the tradition demands that people who meet in a doorway exchange a kiss."
"Really," he replies, noncommittal, not even sneaking a glance at him. Khiaw's feelings do that weird smooth-ripple thing, and he smiles his little secret smile, and his green, green eyes glint like a big, well-fed cat who's letting a mouse go just because he feels like it, and that's it, Blue can't take it anymore, the sexiness and the subtle teasing and the blank wall that refuses him insight. "Well, if it's tradition."
He's almost a head taller than his captain, but then Khiaw isn't that tall to begin with. He swoops down, hands on his shoulders, pushing him against the doorjamb -- not hard, but firmly. Khiaw started it, by coming to meet him in the doorway and mentioning the tradition. It's like he wants to be kissed. Who is Blue to deny him?
He seals their mouths together, tongue tracing the seam of Khiaw's lips, pushing his way in.
That's about as long as he stays in total control.
Next thing he knows, his mouth is under assault, his lips are tingling; he can feel teeth catching his tongue, just tight enough to be threatening, and then it's released only for Khiaw to counterattack, invading his mouth thoroughly. Suddenly he isn't looming over Khiaw, he's leaning on him, because his knees are weak and his underwear is growing constricting, oh god, what the hell is going on, he thought Khiaw wasn't allowed to make a move. Goddamn it, Blue knows as well as anyone how volatile are relationships on a spaceship crew; they had a balance, why is he doing that now -- oh, tongue, sliding in and out of his mouth, he wonders if Khiaw fucks like that, long and slow, lazily powerful... no, wait, it's bad, what if Oriana sees, and then Vartan will -- and Dhaval -- Lujayn...
Khiaw lets him go, with that same little smirk on reddened, damp lips. Maybe the smirk is a little softer, Blue is still a little too stunned to tell.
"See? It wasn't what you wanted after all."
Khiaw pats his shoulder and walks off, leaving Blue alone in the doorway to the kitchen, with his lips still red and puffy and a tent in his pants.
He glares up at the red and green plastic. He's going to have a grand time hunting every single one of these bastards and throwing them into the recycler. And if anyone else tries to kiss him, he's kicking their asses.
But first, he has to masturbate.
+
He knows that a lot of the cripples are 'paths. When they visit a village, it crackles against his skin, a brouhaha of whispers too soft and too tangled for him to get anything out of it. It's not a surprise that the mer would be, too; they're where the cripples come from, after all.
They only ever talk to their own people, and he doesn't know if it's a relief or not, to have the background so much more full, but all of it cautiously aimed away from him. Half the time it's good, the rest of the time he wonders what they're saying behind his back.
Lìadan never slips. Sometimes he feels her dream, but only when she forgets herself. He's not one of hers, so she doesn't touch him.
Alarm/embarrassment.
Except now, apparently. He frowns, looks around -- there's no fear in her yet, and no wariness; it's probably not an enemy pod. He's not sure she's even sending to him, it's more of a general thing. Loud, though, a lot louder than the whispers of barely-rated minds.
Frustration/annoyance/feelsillynow.
... He blinks; the last concept was more complex than what he usually receives. More streamlined, not as static-y.
Help?/sillygirl/driftinglost/help?
He's on his feet, shotgun over his shoulder, and he stalks down the line of the island, looking for the source of the call. If she's anywhere but on the beach, she'll be fucked, because he can't swim.
Needyou/malemine/help?
His eyes widen a little. There's a quick flutter of anguished frustration -- not anything intentional, but he's a receiver, not a sender; intent makes little difference to him, he still feels it. Feels her. She's close now. She feels silly because she called to Blue (and Arun, okay, let's forget him for now) like she would call for her father or brothers or uncles, and Blue and Arun are not answering, of course, they can't; and she should know better than to think two-tails might be pod, even secretly, to herself; acknowledging it is even stupider.
He finds her only because the line at the end of the pier shakes in rhythm with her emotions. He leans over the edge of the narrow, moldy planks, wary; she looks back at him with wide, guilty eyes, with her hair like a gray cloud behind her, and the lines of the net thoroughly tangled around her body, digging into soft flesh.
He would laugh, but he has no clue how long she can stay underwater before she drowns. Too bad for the line; he cuts through the complex knot with one swipe, and drags the tangled mess of a net along as he negotiates his way back to the beach. The planks wobble and creak under his weight, and he grits his teeth and ignores the cold depths underneath. He's not going to drown them both.
She isn't sending anymore. She just breathes, when he manages to pull the net in a way that lets her reach the surface, and she waits.
He jumps in the water when it still reaches his thighs, and sweeps her up in his arms, lifting her chest over the waves. The net still tangles her, trapping an arm along her side and the other one curled just under her breasts, twisting her tail into a painful loop. The net imprints lozenges into her skin, and there's wet hair wrapped and tangled all over her chest, and it's the first time he sees her blush.
"Blue find me, thank you."
"Next time be more careful," he says gruffly as he reaches the beach. He's still aware of her -- hard not to, they're touching -- but it's all below the surface now, nothing he's privy to. He goes to put her down; the sand isn't stable under his weight and he ends up sitting in the shallows with a captive mermaid on his lap.
She blinks at him over the sudden change of altitude. "Blue?"
He shrugs, not looking at her face as he tries to untangle the net. It's frustrating, he thinks he might be better off just cutting her free. She'd protest, though. Good nets must be worth quite a bit on this world. So he ends up flipping her from face to back and feeling up her back and tail as he looks for the knot -- ah, there it is, a hook that caught onto a rope...
By the time he has her upper body free, she's laughing, acute embarrassment pushed aside for the moment. He arches an eyebrow; true, she looks rather silly right now. She tries to explain, but she doesn't know enough words and Blue isn't willing to pantomime enough to offer her guesses.
And then she offers him a memory -- children on the waves, throwing a ball at each other. Except today Lìadan is the ball and Blue is so serious! This is a serious game, yes. Ball-Lìadan. Most serious game of all.
Before he thinks better of it, he's laughing with her.
"Do I even want to know how you did that to yourself?" he asks, still chuckling; he gets a "Um?" and a didnothing/goodgirl/notsillyatall in answer.
"Sure, I believe you." And then he's kissing her, as an apology almost. It's soft and light. She tastes salty, slightly metallic, and he fails to be surprised. She's tense in his arms, confused; her mind once again out of reach.
"Giving breath," she says quietly, eyes wide with surprise. "Give breath to me?"
There are a hundred things under that word, a hundred things buzzing in her brain, just a little too complex for him to catch. She's not angry, though, so he grunts a "yeah?" and shrugs, as if he doesn't care.
She stays quiet for the longest time, voice and mind both. He pretends he's not starting to feel nervous. When she opens her mouth to speak, he's expecting something huge, like maybe he just promised to battle all the sea dragons of the area for her hand somehow.
She just says "Okay," and she nods, and flips off his lap to squirm the rest of the way out of the net, and that's the end of it.
But now she pings him sometimes, I'mhere/areyouhere? And when he's not busy and he goes to meet her, sometimes she brushes a kiss against his lips, and she smiles.
no subject
Me: omg goodness! so much!
: OMG I LOVE HOW SHE COMMUNICATES ^^
: <3
: omg so awesome and cute and omg
: "he gets a "Um?" and a didnothing/goodgirl/notsillyatall in answer. " ^^
: omg so cute
: OMG
: ""Giving breath," she says quietly, eyes wide with surprise. "Give breath to me?"
There are a hundred things under that word, a hundred things buzzing in her brain, just a little too complex for him to catch. She's not angry, though, so he grunts a "yeah?" and shrugs, as if he doesn't care.
She stays quiet for the longest time, voice and mind both. He pretends he's not starting to feel nervous. When she opens her mouth to speak, he's expecting something huge, like maybe he just promised to battle all the sea dragons of the area for her hand somehow.
She just says "Okay," and she nods, and flips off his lap to squirm the rest of the way out of the net, and that's the end of it.
But now she pings him sometimes, I'mhere/areyouhere? And when he's not busy and he goes to meet her, sometimes she brushes a kiss against his lips, and she smiles."
: holy goodness!
: that whole section: GOLD
: I love the BlueKhiaw too ^^
: and the Arun Oriana ^^
: ...ok, I love them all *rereads!*
Now, I promise, I am going to leave the most awesome comment/review ... after I handle some business and get some sleep. Until then, you know I read it, you know I love it, and you know I'm already outlining my next comment. *^.^*
*loves on Asuka so hard!*
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♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥~
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And besides, there are levels that you can read into it, like the fact that this time Liadan does try to ping them, and here Blue shows up. Although in reading that, what sprang to mind was, "Does this mean Arun can never quite be a member of the pod, because this all goes right over his head?"
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Well, technically, Blue can't be a normal pod member either, because he can't send back. From Liadan's POV, it's like she's sending into nothing. But sure, she likes knowing at least he hears her... *ponders* They might give Arun and Liadan radio bracelets or something to compensate. XD
One of the goals of the story is to have them all get over their cultural hangups and become truly close, though. So i'll find a way to get Liadan over her initial reaction.
Oh hey, I just thought about something for the two-tails. They're all more or less cripples, so they place a high emphasis on collaborating with each other. So they probably wouldn't have the mer's hang-up about how sending to people is okay, because you share something you intend to, but listening to them is not, because you're learning things that might want to be kept private. So the two-tails would live in a low-grate gestalt -- still have individuals, but sometimes they'd react and feel like they're totally in tune with each other. It would freak Blue and Liadan out so prettily. *__*
Arun: *still dosn't exist to anyone else* What's wrong, guys? Guys? Uh, hello? ... Why are they poking me?
(though how do you get privacy in a semi-gestalt. *ponders* They've got to have a way, too... Maybe they're good at making themselves unavailable -- not quite a shield, but. *ponderponderponder*)
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And yes, two-way communication would be good, for all parties.
Cultural hang-ups? Like what? You've gone into detail on Liadan, obviously, but what about Blue and Arun? The only hang-ups I've noticed with them are personal, like Blue's aversion to physical contact...
Can't help you much with the two-tails. But yes, have the gestalt freaking Blue and Liadan out would be fun, yes yes. (And Clueless Arun is amusing.) Although... if the gestalt is pervasive enough, would Blue be in danger of getting pulled under? Being purely receptive could make him vulnerable to that.
And privacy... it probably isn't nearly as big a deal to them, if they're used to living partially in each others' heads at all times. But if they really, really need it... hm. Blocking yourself from projecting into the gestalt? You're still connected, but just not contributing - it gives you the security of the gestalt and the ability to respond if something happens, but what you yourself are doing isn't getting in. Or, if you really want privacy, you could leave the area, because they must have a limited range. But that would probably really creep them out. No haring off on your own for these people!
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I actually have no idea about the other characters to give much comment, poor Arun, suckered by the oldest trick in the book.
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Arun is chivalrous. Poor, poor guy. u_u;
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But honestly, I think I'd like these characters more if I knew stuff about them, so other than a "I giggled like a school girl" and a standard, but never the less true, "You always write the best characters" I just think I'd like that perhaps you should maybe do a post or something where you explain a little bit more about the characters. ^_^
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You mean like I did for the genin OCs a while back, with a full personality sheet and everything? The problem with the pirate crew is that most of them are still nothing but a name and three adjectives at most. I'm learning to know them through ficlets. XD;; I can do character sheets, yeah, but until I've thrown them at the few who do have a developed personality, it's not going to have much on it. *ponderponderponder*
... NEED MOAR FICLETS. >O