[As if he wasn't at least as responsible, but good luck getting him to admit to it.
And though it's sharply spoken, Emet-Selch doesn't seem inclined to continue along those lines; the arrogance that follows is more the habitual, everyday sort. It was still more pretense, more bluff than normal, but it was closer.]
And of course I deserve respect. Did it take you this long to notice?
[That at least he seems to have fallen back into more comfortable habits gives Irhya cause to relax a little. Her tail curls behind her on the bed, draping halfway off of it.]
No, no. I've always felt that way. You've always sort of commanded it, you know, whether you meant to or not.
I just hope you would afford me the same, for what it's worth.
[Even if it was an imitation, and the hurt was still there, it probably counted as an improvement. Shaking his head, he leans over to put his own drink down, out of the way. He probably would get to it later, once it was well and truly cold, but even in his marginally improved state, the Ascian had little inclination for much of anything.]
And why wouldn't I respect you? [Straightening back up, he glances sideways at her.] You've undone more work and more Ascians in your meager lifespan than any mortal who's ever existed. I don't have to like it, [A dismissive wave.] but it would be useless to not recognize it.
I'm glad to hear that, I suppose. I know it must have fallen on deaf ears when you were so worked up, but I meant what I said about those better qualities of yours, too. Scathing wit and all.
[Her eyes fall to his drink set off to the side, a savage glint of something playful emanating from her gaze.]
Aren't you gonna drink that? It might make you feel a little better. A friend once taught me the magic of warm drinks when you feel like shite, so I would pass it on to you.
Not necessarily for his safety, but what the hell was she up to?]
I'm not concerned exactly- but why the sudden interest?
[It would probably be faster to just comply. If nothing else, it would be a show of willingness towards a return to their usual dynamic. The Ascian sighs. Even as he asks, he stretches over to get the mug again.]
[Irhya waits expectantly, still smiling a bit too sweetly, eying him a bit too closely. There's nothing unusual in the hot chocolate itself, of course; it's probably gone a little to the lukewarm side since she gave it to him, but nothing's out of place.
It's the mild excitement building up to it that seems suspect, something that feeds only faintly through the line. Anticipation, even a dash of nerves. She's not unaware of the fact he's probably picking up on it even without the emotional link, but it does not seem to deter her any.]
It's not as good if it's cold. Come on, now. You act like you've never had it before.
[The second the mug leaves his lips, she makes her move, leaning in and enclosing his mouth in a kiss that tastes of chocolate through and through. Irhya lingers only for a few moments, just in case he's more likely to shove her off than reciprocate, and comes away with a sheepish smile, quietly praying she didn't just make it ten times worse again.
The apprehension is still heavy across the tether.]
[Though Emet-Selch hadn't been quite sure what he'd been expecting other than a drink, he was fairly sure that hadn't been it. But it did clarify a few things.
...Sort of clarify, anyway. He'd now either kissed or been kissed by three of Hydaelyn's champions. What was wrong with them? What was wrong with him?
Because after a moment's startle, he does press back into the kiss, for as long as it lasts. When she pulls back, he regards her evenly, though a thread of amusement, a flicker of- interest?- could likely be felt through the tether. That apprehension almost has him put the mug back down straight away, but- instead he hums thoughtfully to himself before he answers.]
You must have chosen a truly potent one, to have gotten anything from so small a dose.
Irhya pauses, assesses, fixes him with a look of slow acknowledgment. Then she smiles, and it's one of her sharp scimitar smirks this time. The apprehension is quick to morph into a single hard beat of want. ]
Yeah. The most sophisticated I could come up with, of course.
[Funny, indeed. She's drawn him successfully out of sulking, but maybe... maybe she could take it a few ilms further.
Or a few malms, since it's her, and she does nothing in small measures.]
So... Do you suppose you'd benefit from working all that negativity out of your system?
[That sudden hit of desire was certainly a thing, though it came as less of a surprise this time. He wondered if this was a new development from Irhya, or if had it been there for some time, and he hadn't noticed- assuming her banter and teasing had been just that. A not unreasonable assumption, the Ascian felt, considering who and what they were.
But he couldn't quite share in the immediacy of that feeling. Caution was still there. The underlying hurt was still there. The eternal misery was still there, to round out the layers. They would always be there, but he could try, for a time, for it to not be his primary focus.]
All of it...? There's a line between confidence and delusion.
[Still, he knows it's not meant literally. And he shifts to put the mug back down out of the way again, before turning towards her, not exactly unwilling to be convinced.]
No, I'm not that foolish. I'm afraid sexual healing only goes so far.
[Her tail curls up at the end, ears pointed back briefly.]
And you have thousands of years more baggage than I can possibly account for, besides. But perhaps it would be beneficial to raising your mood for right now, at least. Or at least expending all the energy towards something other than sulking.
[Which she still maintains he was doing, no matter what he may say. There's also that she has already put prodigious amounts of energy into hiding any lingering glances at him or overly intense spikes of emotion; it's tiring, having to mask the things you feel, and Hades broadcasting out his hurt all the time is just weighing on them.]
Even if just to leave things on a good note. It's true that this kind of thing does not have to factor into that, but...
[Her posture recovers, and she straightens up, looking serious for just long enough to make a statement.]
Well, I happen to be a here-and-now person, myself. And I would be lying to say there was not some part of me that found the idea enticing.
Unfortunately, I am neither a here nor now person. And you presume a great deal, considering what you've done.
[Emet-Selch certainly hadn't made any effort to shield his hurt from them, using it as a weapon to not only harm, but to protect against any return in pain. Whenever he slept, there was a break from it- and he had slept a lot- but as soon as consciousness hit, so did everything else.
To reduce it to sulking does get a flash of annoyance from him, and he doesn't try to hide that either, even as he stretches an arm out, to trail fingers along the miqo'te's cheek. It would never be as straightforward as she made it sound. But perhaps that didn't matter either.]
However. As a show of good faith--
[His hand slips to the back of her neck, pushing her forward, even as he leans in himself. And when his lips press firmly against Irhya's, there's no trace of hesitation.]
[She's mid-pout when he closes the gap again, and it's like a switch is flipped, because she reciprocates fiercely, almost enough to push back in the opposite direction. But eventually, when her back hits the bed, she lets the brewing point of contention go, her tail doing a flick under her as she falls.
Irhya was never a convincing speaker; she has ever been a woman of action first, thought later.]
Can I make it up to you?
[It's a sincere, earnest whisper against his lips when they part, perhaps surprisingly so given her usual demeanor. The tether pulses with more than just desire -- it is also a desire to please, to make peace, and the enkindled hope that she might be able to do so, if only like this.]
[Following her back against the bed, Emet-Selch lets his body drape lightly over Irhya's, though he props himself up a bit with his arms. When the kiss finally breaks and he hears her question--
This was probably when he was supposed to acquiesce, to say that she could try, to play along. And the feelings coming from her were definitely a lure in that direction.
But perhaps a touch of spite remained, even so, that habit towards difficulty. Brushing another, comparatively light kiss to her lips, the Ascian shifts a hand to stroke slowly over one of her ears, before skritching gently at the base of it. His voice is soft when he replies.]
Probably not.
[Desire mixed with hurt, mixed with loneliness and an insignificant amount of hope. Emet-Selch actually tries to restrain it this time, but he hasn't had much practice, so it mostly comes through the line regardless.]
[There is an answering ache in Irhya's heart, but after a low hum, she seems no more put-off than before over it.]
I'll try, even so. There is still time.
[So she musters a thin smile at him, her ear perking up at the attention. It's relaxing, and helps calm her, even though it seems like he's the one who could use it more. But his ears probably aren't as sensitive as hers... are they?
Her hands move to slide over the sides of his face with an apologetic expression, thumbs brushing across his temples before tracing the outer shell of one ear. Soon she's bending up to blow a cool stream of air over it, running her tongue over the lobe and then latching the flats of her front teeth onto it.]
[It was a pleasant touch at least, and his head dips forward slightly, as Irhya's hands brush along his face. If not enthusiastic, encouraging- and his hand alternated between scratching her ear, and threading fingers through her hair, down along to her scalp.
Because of his recent experience with cat ears, it was easier for Emet-Selch to compare the two. Not that they'd been any more than petted, so it wasn't a direct comparison, but it was more than he would've had otherwise.
...Differently sensitive rather than less, he decided. And there wasn't as much to work with, though the sensation of her breath, the slight dampness of her mouth against his ear made up for much. And the flicker of tension that goes through him is more of the pleasant sort.]
[Not content with merely that, Irhya hooks her arms around his back and pulls so his front is pressed flat against hers, her mouth moving down to the corner of his ear. She kisses along his jawline reverently, circling around until her chin almost touches his clavicle, then scrapes teeth along the bob in his throat, too.
Slow is... not so bad. Slow is comfortable, in this case. She just needs to warm him up to her first, then maybe... maybe...
It won't mean much, maybe nothing at all, but perhaps it's a good place to start making amends. He's already met her halfway as a show of good faith, after all. Her hands travel to the end of his shirt and then slip under to touch living skin; he'll find that they're a bit cooler than average, just enough to be noticeable without being icy.
...Right. She'd forgotten about that. A pause before she whispers into the pulse in his neck.]
[It was slightly strange to allow himself to be worked on like this, even if it didn't feel bad. But it was unusual, and somewhat disorienting, to not be the decided one, and the Ascian wasn't sure what he thought about that, even as he allows his hand to trail down the side of Irhya's own neck.
The light touch of her teeth has him arch his neck, just slightly, into it, as though offering his throat to her, knowing that she could likely feel the gradual uptick in his pulse. Even if part of that was due to the stray thought of her being in a position to tear it open, if she so chose. Which was absurd. Her teeth weren't that sharp.
Though the unexpected chill to her hands does cause him to tense up, and not entirely in a nice way. But it doesn't last long, and once the moment's startle had passed, Emet-Selch realized it wasn't that bad, and surely she'd warm up soon enough. It doesn't keep him from grumbling against her face, though.]
[She chuckles against his skin, hearing more than feeling the increase in his heart rate. It's just easier to choose not to think about why that might be, in this case, or the less obvious reasons why it might make hers start to elevate in turn.]
I don't think so. Maybe it's just cold in here.
[Taking one of her hands back, she picks up one of his and holds it in front of her face for a moment until opening her mouth to put his index finger in her mouth, dragging her tongue along the underside as she fixes him with a darkly lidded gaze.
[It was definitely warmer, that much was for certain.]
It's not. Perhaps you have poor circulation.
[Just to be slightly difficult.
His own gaze is... actually quite cold as he looks down at her, scraping his finger back along her tongue in response. Interest or no, he'd been incredibly resentful of her less than ten minutes prior; it wasn't the sort of thing that faded quickly, no matter how suggestive she was being.]
[It sort of makes her feel small and desperate when he looks at her that way, despite knowing exactly where it comes from. And maybe she is, from more than one perspective. Something muddled and uncertain comes across the tether, tinged once more with guilt and hesitation, like slivers of ice in her blood. It's a mixed signal if she ever saw one. And it's a little surprising she'd be so sensitive to it, given her usual headstrong nature.
But in spite of her misgivings, she continues to move; if Hades doesn't want it, he will separate himself from the situation, that much is certain. So, reassuring herself with that thought, she gives him his hand back, though not before placing a kiss on his knuckles, and tenses as if to roll them over, but then thinks the better of a sudden surge like that.]
Switch. I want to... [a pause as her ears turn back, a small flutter of embarrassment leaking through to the other side of the connection,] I want to please you, at least in this way.
[It certainly was a complicated mess of feelings. And though Emet-Selch sits up, continuing to look down at her, he makes no move to actually change positions otherwise. The edge of emotions he feels from Irhya only continue to tangle, rather than clarify his own. He sought neither to hurt nor reassure her- only a dull irritation at his own indecision.
At her words, her request, he couldn't deny that beat of want; it was only natural- complications or no, he still had physical form, he wasn't immune. But that want was mixed immediately with suspicion and disquiet. This would be giving up more control than he was entirely prepared to do, asking a certain amount of vulnerability.]
What makes you think-- [In contrast to his tone, the hand that brushes over the side of her face is gentle, fingers stroking from her forehead, down to run along the line of her jaw.] that I would accept that from you?
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[As if he wasn't at least as responsible, but good luck getting him to admit to it.
And though it's sharply spoken, Emet-Selch doesn't seem inclined to continue along those lines; the arrogance that follows is more the habitual, everyday sort. It was still more pretense, more bluff than normal, but it was closer.]
And of course I deserve respect. Did it take you this long to notice?
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No, no. I've always felt that way. You've always sort of commanded it, you know, whether you meant to or not.
I just hope you would afford me the same, for what it's worth.
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[Even if it was an imitation, and the hurt was still there, it probably counted as an improvement. Shaking his head, he leans over to put his own drink down, out of the way. He probably would get to it later, once it was well and truly cold, but even in his marginally improved state, the Ascian had little inclination for much of anything.]
And why wouldn't I respect you? [Straightening back up, he glances sideways at her.] You've undone more work and more Ascians in your meager lifespan than any mortal who's ever existed. I don't have to like it, [A dismissive wave.] but it would be useless to not recognize it.
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[She looks... speculative all of a sudden.
That usually means trouble is about to happen.]
I'm glad to hear that, I suppose. I know it must have fallen on deaf ears when you were so worked up, but I meant what I said about those better qualities of yours, too. Scathing wit and all.
[Her eyes fall to his drink set off to the side, a savage glint of something playful emanating from her gaze.]
Aren't you gonna drink that? It might make you feel a little better. A friend once taught me the magic of warm drinks when you feel like shite, so I would pass it on to you.
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Well, it's not as though I require a mortal to inform me of my positive traits. You're just stating the obvious.
[Though the sudden interest in the drink has him throw her a skeptical look.]
--And that's suspiciously insistent of you. Usually when one tries to poison someone, one avoids drawing attention to it.
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Maybe that's because I'm not trying to poison you? I'll even drink from it myself if you're so concerned.
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Not necessarily for his safety, but what the hell was she up to?]
I'm not concerned exactly- but why the sudden interest?
[It would probably be faster to just comply. If nothing else, it would be a show of willingness towards a return to their usual dynamic. The Ascian sighs. Even as he asks, he stretches over to get the mug again.]
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It's the mild excitement building up to it that seems suspect, something that feeds only faintly through the line. Anticipation, even a dash of nerves. She's not unaware of the fact he's probably picking up on it even without the emotional link, but it does not seem to deter her any.]
It's not as good if it's cold. Come on, now. You act like you've never had it before.
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Irhya can probably get a small sense of exasperation and confusion from him- as though it weren't also plainly written in his expression.]
I never wanted anything to begin with-
[But look, he's drinking now, are you happy Irhya.]
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The apprehension is still heavy across the tether.]
I guess we must both be poisoned now.
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...Sort of clarify, anyway. He'd now either kissed or been kissed by three of Hydaelyn's champions. What was wrong with them? What was wrong with him?
Because after a moment's startle, he does press back into the kiss, for as long as it lasts. When she pulls back, he regards her evenly, though a thread of amusement, a flicker of- interest?- could likely be felt through the tether. That apprehension almost has him put the mug back down straight away, but- instead he hums thoughtfully to himself before he answers.]
You must have chosen a truly potent one, to have gotten anything from so small a dose.
[And he'll just take another drink, then.]
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Irhya pauses, assesses, fixes him with a look of slow acknowledgment. Then she smiles, and it's one of her sharp scimitar smirks this time. The apprehension is quick to morph into a single hard beat of want. ]
Yeah. The most sophisticated I could come up with, of course.
[Funny, indeed. She's drawn him successfully out of sulking, but maybe... maybe she could take it a few ilms further.
Or a few malms, since it's her, and she does nothing in small measures.]
So... Do you suppose you'd benefit from working all that negativity out of your system?
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But he couldn't quite share in the immediacy of that feeling. Caution was still there. The underlying hurt was still there. The eternal misery was still there, to round out the layers. They would always be there, but he could try, for a time, for it to not be his primary focus.]
All of it...? There's a line between confidence and delusion.
[Still, he knows it's not meant literally. And he shifts to put the mug back down out of the way again, before turning towards her, not exactly unwilling to be convinced.]
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[Her tail curls up at the end, ears pointed back briefly.]
And you have thousands of years more baggage than I can possibly account for, besides. But perhaps it would be beneficial to raising your mood for right now, at least. Or at least expending all the energy towards something other than sulking.
[Which she still maintains he was doing, no matter what he may say. There's also that she has already put prodigious amounts of energy into hiding any lingering glances at him or overly intense spikes of emotion; it's tiring, having to mask the things you feel, and Hades broadcasting out his hurt all the time is just weighing on them.]
Even if just to leave things on a good note. It's true that this kind of thing does not have to factor into that, but...
[Her posture recovers, and she straightens up, looking serious for just long enough to make a statement.]
Well, I happen to be a here-and-now person, myself. And I would be lying to say there was not some part of me that found the idea enticing.
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[Emet-Selch certainly hadn't made any effort to shield his hurt from them, using it as a weapon to not only harm, but to protect against any return in pain. Whenever he slept, there was a break from it- and he had slept a lot- but as soon as consciousness hit, so did everything else.
To reduce it to sulking does get a flash of annoyance from him, and he doesn't try to hide that either, even as he stretches an arm out, to trail fingers along the miqo'te's cheek. It would never be as straightforward as she made it sound. But perhaps that didn't matter either.]
However. As a show of good faith--
[His hand slips to the back of her neck, pushing her forward, even as he leans in himself. And when his lips press firmly against Irhya's, there's no trace of hesitation.]
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Irhya was never a convincing speaker; she has ever been a woman of action first, thought later.]
Can I make it up to you?
[It's a sincere, earnest whisper against his lips when they part, perhaps surprisingly so given her usual demeanor. The tether pulses with more than just desire -- it is also a desire to please, to make peace, and the enkindled hope that she might be able to do so, if only like this.]
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This was probably when he was supposed to acquiesce, to say that she could try, to play along. And the feelings coming from her were definitely a lure in that direction.
But perhaps a touch of spite remained, even so, that habit towards difficulty. Brushing another, comparatively light kiss to her lips, the Ascian shifts a hand to stroke slowly over one of her ears, before skritching gently at the base of it. His voice is soft when he replies.]
Probably not.
[Desire mixed with hurt, mixed with loneliness and an insignificant amount of hope. Emet-Selch actually tries to restrain it this time, but he hasn't had much practice, so it mostly comes through the line regardless.]
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I'll try, even so. There is still time.
[So she musters a thin smile at him, her ear perking up at the attention. It's relaxing, and helps calm her, even though it seems like he's the one who could use it more. But his ears probably aren't as sensitive as hers... are they?
Her hands move to slide over the sides of his face with an apologetic expression, thumbs brushing across his temples before tracing the outer shell of one ear. Soon she's bending up to blow a cool stream of air over it, running her tongue over the lobe and then latching the flats of her front teeth onto it.]
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Because of his recent experience with cat ears, it was easier for Emet-Selch to compare the two. Not that they'd been any more than petted, so it wasn't a direct comparison, but it was more than he would've had otherwise.
...Differently sensitive rather than less, he decided. And there wasn't as much to work with, though the sensation of her breath, the slight dampness of her mouth against his ear made up for much. And the flicker of tension that goes through him is more of the pleasant sort.]
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Slow is... not so bad. Slow is comfortable, in this case. She just needs to warm him up to her first, then maybe... maybe...
It won't mean much, maybe nothing at all, but perhaps it's a good place to start making amends. He's already met her halfway as a show of good faith, after all. Her hands travel to the end of his shirt and then slip under to touch living skin; he'll find that they're a bit cooler than average, just enough to be noticeable without being icy.
...Right. She'd forgotten about that. A pause before she whispers into the pulse in his neck.]
Ah. Too cold?
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The light touch of her teeth has him arch his neck, just slightly, into it, as though offering his throat to her, knowing that she could likely feel the gradual uptick in his pulse. Even if part of that was due to the stray thought of her being in a position to tear it open, if she so chose. Which was absurd. Her teeth weren't that sharp.
Though the unexpected chill to her hands does cause him to tense up, and not entirely in a nice way. But it doesn't last long, and once the moment's startle had passed, Emet-Selch realized it wasn't that bad, and surely she'd warm up soon enough. It doesn't keep him from grumbling against her face, though.]
--I hope all of you isn't like that.
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I don't think so. Maybe it's just cold in here.
[Taking one of her hands back, she picks up one of his and holds it in front of her face for a moment until opening her mouth to put his index finger in her mouth, dragging her tongue along the underside as she fixes him with a darkly lidded gaze.
...That part is warm, at least.]
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It's not. Perhaps you have poor circulation.
[Just to be slightly difficult.
His own gaze is... actually quite cold as he looks down at her, scraping his finger back along her tongue in response. Interest or no, he'd been incredibly resentful of her less than ten minutes prior; it wasn't the sort of thing that faded quickly, no matter how suggestive she was being.]
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But in spite of her misgivings, she continues to move; if Hades doesn't want it, he will separate himself from the situation, that much is certain. So, reassuring herself with that thought, she gives him his hand back, though not before placing a kiss on his knuckles, and tenses as if to roll them over, but then thinks the better of a sudden surge like that.]
Switch. I want to... [a pause as her ears turn back, a small flutter of embarrassment leaking through to the other side of the connection,] I want to please you, at least in this way.
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At her words, her request, he couldn't deny that beat of want; it was only natural- complications or no, he still had physical form, he wasn't immune. But that want was mixed immediately with suspicion and disquiet. This would be giving up more control than he was entirely prepared to do, asking a certain amount of vulnerability.]
What makes you think-- [In contrast to his tone, the hand that brushes over the side of her face is gentle, fingers stroking from her forehead, down to run along the line of her jaw.] that I would accept that from you?
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