nysalogs | ( open ) out of isolation

Who's Khylen?

[ Doesn't sound like anyone Jim would want to know, based on context. Should I call you Princess, he almost asks, but it seems too morbid.

It's nice here, this mood is tranquil. He's not in any hurry to ruin it. ]

( she wouldn't hate being called princess. d'avin asked her if she was one right in between sex and trying to kill her (how fun that had been) because he'd wanted to know if he'd bedded an actual warrior princess.

he had, of course. )

My mentor. He's dead now, too.

( or... not. because he's in stasis as well and dutch has no idea how to deal with that, so she's just not thinking about it. denial is a beautiful thing. )

That's a weird thing to have in common, [ Jim reflects out loud. He flicks water with his free hand, though it's not at anybody, and shifts around, floating a little, moving them a tiny bit through the pleasant coolness. ] I never hated mine, though.

[ He's seen Chris, up there. Once. He hasn't had the heart to look again, too afraid of what his head might conjure up; the possibilities are too cruel. ]

( dutch thinks about it for a moment. presses her lips to his shoulder. )

Sorry.

You weren't there, I checked, [ is a little teasing. Maybe a bad joke, about her being a killer, but there's no menace in his voice.

Everyone at home expects the open wound to be his father's death - and in a way, it is, because Christopher Pike was more of a parent than anyone in Jim's life. But it's just a bruise now; a gentle ache that he wants to keep, because without it, he might not remember the importance of it. ]

( she could have been. how many people has she killed without knowing why they deserved to die, if they deserved to die? if killing them was just some weird test of loyalty or ability from khlyen or if they did something bad?

she'll never know, now. right now, that's okay. )

'course I wasn't.

( because he's from a whole other world. part of the universe. whatever. )

[ (She couldn't have been. He checked. He obsessively stalked.

Thoughitwouldhavebeenbettercastingthan--)

Jim lets himself float a little, halfway tangled with her hands, looking up at the curious phosphorus canopy above the ethereal pool. ]

I don't mind that you've killed people. Or that you're good at it. I should mind, given what I do and where I'm from, but I've killed people, too. Just in different ways.

( dutch thinks on that for a moment. turns the words over in her head. examines the weird clench of her heart and then stops because she can't make sense of it. )

I mind that I killed people.

( it's not their death that bothers her so much as not knowing if they deserved it. if they were good or bad. that she was nothing but a puppet. )

[ Jim looks at her. ]

You know yourself.

[ In that, at least. And from the way he says it, it's a good thing - something to be valued, anyway. It's different from the inside and outside perspectives; he thinks he likes that she minds. He finds himself almost smiling.

He knew she cared. That's why I don't mind. ]

( not minding would be easier. not minding would mean she wouldn't care if there was forgiveness for her, if she could ever make up for all the blood on her hand.

she's a weapon that's been pointed this or that way by khlyen for years. these days, she decides which way to go, but that claim to agency doesn't erase the past. )

Most of myself.

( she hadn't even known, until recently, how she'd come into existence, what her connection to khlyen and the green and the hullen had been, khlyen still holding those pieces of her hostage even in death. )

[ What's the point of easy? Jim would say. ]

More than you realize, I think. You don't give yourself enough credit.

[ He sits up, runs a hand over the back of his head, through damp hair. ]

( dutch considers that for a moment. shrugs. )

And you don't look nearly wet enough. ( so she splashes at his hair. it shouldn't just be damp! it should be wet. )

Hey-- that's a worse pickup line than any of mine, even--

[ ShutupJim. He laughs, and shakes his hair out. Fine, fine. Jim dips down, crystal water closing over his head, and when he stands back up again he pushes his hands over it, keeping it out of his eyes.

People filter in and out of the lagoon, all ages, mostly Khali people, and a mix of human natives and refugees; they're going to have to get out eventually, if only to avoid pruning.

Hopefully there are towels. ]

Wasn't a pickup line.

( the retort comes quick and easy, dutch grinning back at him. but he's right: they'll have to get out eventually. )

Wanna go for a walk again? ( dutch asks once they're done drying off and have their walking boots on again. hah. )

[ Jim has decided to eschew anything from above the waist, the light here mingled in enough shade from the trees that he doesn't fear ending up toasted like on the beach. Everything gets tucked into his belt on his hip, letting him go shirtless. ]

Sure, [ he says, and offers her his hand as they head off for more wandering.

Really trippy, pretty wandering. He's not as high as he was when they showed up, but it's still lingering, and Jim has no objection to that. ]

( dutch puts her shirt back on, but it's not like that means she's much more covered than jim. there are cut-outs on the shirt. she likes those.

and she likes intertwining her fingers with jim's and walking like that. there's a lot of forest here. lots of different flowers. at some point, lazily, dutch says ) We should fuck like this.

I thought you said that wasn't a pickup line, back there.

[ Equally lazy teasing. But Jim considers it, even as he's tugging Dutch closer - and can't find a reason in his head why not. (Grass in places grass shouldn't go? Getting discovered? Well, it seems isolated enough, out here. He can put his jacket down.) Jim looks at her once they're face to face, just for a moment, before pressing a soft kiss to her mouth. ]

It wasn't. ( he tugs her closer, kissing her —and it's soft. softer than she'd usually allow, softer than she'd usually know what to do with because jim isn't johnny and johnny is her family, her brother in all the ways that matter, her gravity. she knows how to be soft around johnny, sometimes.

right now, she doesn't know how to be anything but soft, every muscle relaxed and at ease. she smiles into the kiss, tipping her head to slide her mouth along his jaw and then nuzzle at his cheek with her nose. )

This is.

Alright, [ he murmurs against her, sliding his arms around her, holding her close as they kiss and-- do whatever this is. Cuddle, makeout, what is it? It's gentler and softer than it's ever been and he thinks he likes it. Jim's not opposed, but always sort of figured she was; right now it feels important that Dutch knows she's capable of being held like this. That she knows he wants to hold her like this.

And he does, so.

Jim steps back after a moment, tugging his shirt and towel free from his waistband so he can toss them onto the soft grass, and guide them both down. ]

( do they need to put a label on it? it's supposed to lead to fucking, but right now, the sense of urgency dutch often feels, the urge to make sure that whatever happens, she gets off first because if she doesn't, she might not at all, that's missing. not all of her bed partners have been as considerate as jim is.

she follows him down easily, resting her cheek against his shoulder for a moment before pushing up on an elbow and moving in for another kiss, just as languid as before. it's easy, right now, to let him be gentle. to be gentle in return. she wasn't created for gentleness, but that doesn't seem to matter right now. )

[ He doesn't think she's fragile or in need of coddling - obviously. Deliberate tenderness might be patronizing, even; but this is something else. He feels relaxed and open and wants to share in that feeling with her.

(Before it fades? Jim's not thinking about time.)

Kissing feels more important than it usually does. But the rest of it, despite the languid pace, is familiar, Jim's attentive, thorough attention very much a part of him and sex no matter the kind.

He links their fingers together, unthinking. ]

( she isn't fragile and she isn't in need of coddling — and ordinarily, she'd take any hint of either as patronising even if it isn't meant to be, but right now? right now, she enjoys the softness, the gentleness, the openness of his kisses and his hands on hers.

sex, for dutch, isn't about a connection. it's about physical pleasure, pure and simple. this? this is more of a connection than she's let herself feel with anyone but those she considers hers. johnny, d'avin, alvis. right now, with jim, kissing back isn't about chasing pleasure and it isn't about urgency.

he links their fingers together and she reaches up with her free hand, letting her fingertips wander over his jaw, the shell of his ear, down his neck, over a shoulder, back up again. )

Edited (i forgot to actually write anything other than introspection oops) 2018-06-25 18:39 (UTC)

[ It's softer than it's ever been between them, but softer doesn't mean a lack of pleasure, even for two people whose coupling has always been frenetic. Jim keeps them on their sides, as if something in his subconscious finds merit in them being symbolically equally, though perhaps it's just that it's comfortable and cozy like this. He kisses and touches her for a long time before he hitches her closer so that he can press inside of her, sighing, his hand beneath her knee keeping them tightly connected. ]

( it's a slow affair; more so than usual. it's slow and it's warm, comfortable and soft. these are not words dutch would usually think of during sex, but they fit now and when he finally presses into her, her moan of pleasure is soft, acknowledgement of pleasure and a homecoming more than anything else.

she curls her hand over the back of his head and draws him in for another kiss, a little unfocused because her hips roll in slow waves. )

[ Breathing against each other, kissing softly, rutting languidly - it's achingly intimate, and Jim's mind is a blurry glow of yes, good. Still, he has the habits he's worked hard to turn automatic, and it remains important for him to make sure she comes first. (Though it may be a near thing, today, for how relaxed he is.)

Speckled sunlight slips in patterns over them like a kaleidoscope as a gentle breeze somewhere above them shifts the leafy canopy overhead. Broad daylight out in a veritably public area, and yet there's no risque thrill about it, because he's not thinking of it that way. ]

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