❪ event ❫ spirited away

[natha]

PRELUDE     I'll get straight to the point, Thesaens. Dranbu is in dire need of assistance. I have received confirmation that the disappearances we were investigating last month have... escalated. Be cautious as you make your way through Josa Forest. Ideally we could go straight through, but it seems the main entrance to Dranbu is overgrown with thorns and vines, and there's a bit of a glitch with the rail system - the train is having trouble recognizing the Dranbu station as a destination. I've uploaded a homing beacon to your devices with this message. Once enough of you have arrived in Dranbu proper, it should communicate with the train and register it as a stop. With any luck, that will make getting back and forth much easier for you all from now on. Best of luck. Entry to the forest is not only overgrown with vegetation, but seems to be growing at an increasingly alarming rate. Any attempts to clear the vines will be met with even larger ones growing in its place, and it only confirms Nurray's findings as true. The only way in is across the sound from Nadril, entering the forest from its snowy back yard. It doesn't stay cold for long; as one ventures further into the forest, the snow will disappear, as though it was completely out of place in the first place. The red sun's warmth will take its place soon after— and before long, you'll feel too warm for the clothes you came with. That's when you know you've entered the heart of Josa Forest. WITHIN THE FOREST     The forest seems to be thick with a profound presence that can’t be ascertained. While venturing through it, one will feel like there are being watched or followed. This feeling will only intensify as metallic-scented drops of rain begin to fall between the clearings in the trees. Unfortunately, what many don’t realize at this point is that this is how the forest itself eats. How it subsists and lives through the minds of those who eventually get lost in it. Wandering this far in is akin to walking into a lion’s jaw, or rather… straight to its stomach. But, the forest has a way of making one stay. While it swallows someone up, it shows them sinfully beautiful and picturesque sights. Even showing them people or things that are familiar to the lost. All of which will urge them to go in deeper and deeper. But, while the forest begins to prey on the mind of their victim— they will suddenly hear an elegant and alluring voice urging them back. This voice promises them comfort and safety. Promises to be kind and open. Promises she has a place for them where they will never feel displaced or unwanted, or lost. Before they can fully accept, they will find that they are whisked away in Barthala’s embrace. Some will be taken, wiped of all their previous memories and inserted new ones. Others will find they have no prior memories at all of themselves, only urged to go on with regular life. What is prevalent is the forest's desire to turn you. Metamorphosis is a phenomenon that occurs only to certain individuals, and there is no rhyme or reason to them. Some adventurers would find themselves changing by the minute, the hour, or the process may even take days and weeks. The forest toys with you, but it only wants to draw you closer to its core — as though there's a story there it wants you to see and understand. Will you go on anyway, knowing the forest has already has its claws on you? I. ALL ROADS LEAD TO — Exploring the forest is not a perilous experience - Barthala's blessing ensures that paths remain clear of any dangerous obstacles, and keeps anyone who enters the woods from losing their way. However, it will not always lead adventurers where they want to go. Stressed? Your path leads to a meadow, grass drifting gently in the breeze. Tired? You'll find your way to a tree with roots perfectly curved for a nap, the shade a peaceful retreat from the sunlight. The hungry will find streams full of fish or bushes laden with berries, and the curious will come upon elder trees, unique and beautiful. Only those who are truly satisfied with their circumstances, with themselves, can forge their own path, and venture to Barthala's Grotto. II. BARTHALA'S GROTTO — The deity's home is host to an abundance of life. Butterflies drift through the air, brilliantly colored and unbothered by any intruders. Foliage blooms in a rainbow of colors, many plants unique to this area alone. With trees arranged to provide a canopy over the path and small clearing, the scene is something out of a fantasy. Any plant life taken from this area will not survive long, though even in its dead, dried state, it retains a curious beauty. Explorers and creatures finding themselves in this area will suddenly find their clothing to be an unnecessary burden - what could be better than feeling the wonders of nature against bare skin? There is nothing unbecoming about such a natural state, any perverse inclinations are an aspect of personal preference. While the presence of Barthala can be felt here - a warm, comfortable sensation emanating from your core - she is nowhere to be found. Only one will have the opportunity to pass under a veil of willow branches and emerge to the cool air of a clear-as-glass spring. Another nearby grotto is home to a plant with intoxicating effects. Just smelling the leaves is enough to entice most animals, and consuming them has effects on both mind and body. More easily amused, with thoughts that weave deep and distant, along with increased sensory perception can bring the user on a pleasant trip lasting up to five hours. III. INFLUENCES — (18+) Every five days, a weed scattered in patches among the forest underbrush blooms. The flowers are small and white, unremarkable except for how clustered they grow. When their petals fall, after only hours of blossoming, pollen drifts through the air. It clings to clothing, to hair, in the throats of the sensitive animals dwelling in the forest. Even those unaltered by Barthala's magic can be affected. The locals of Dranbu claim the pollen enhances fertility, but in practice, it simply serves as a poignant aphrodisiac. Those affected won't differentiate between the warmth of another or their own, a simple need to experience sexual ecstasy overwhelmingly pervaded. The pollen loses its potency after about three hours, leaving behind only a sweet smell. YOUR NEW (NEW) LIFE    Adapting to an entirely new setting isn’t always so simple. People often say that assimilating oneself to the environment happens fluidly, and before you know it, you’re a part of it. In Dranbu, these words hold an uncanny sense of truth. When you awake, your day begins like it always has. Your daily routine meets largely unchanged, except a few tinier details. Perhaps, you’ve realized your true calling is an occupation within the villages itself. Maybe in farming up strange medical herbs, maybe in acting as a witch doctor for the people, or maybe you find yourself drawn to the arts and you really enjoy sculpting fellow villagers in the nude. Once you commit these tasks, you realize, it feels like what you’ve always done. As if it were natural, as if you’ve done them for years, and maybe you have? At least that’s what your gut is telling you, and slowly your memories will too. At the end of the day, when you return home, you realize you’re not alone. You have a partner who shares the same values and whom you love deeply. Or maybe a spouse whom you’re always arguing with. But, even that will feel as commonplace as the rest of your day. All you know is that the day that might have started off not being yours is entirely yours and yours alone. IV. THE HUNT — Those taken by the forest, animal features adorning their bodies, will find that their palates have changed as well. Carnivores crave raw meat, while herbivores don't mind snacking on a patch of grass or pulling leaves from branches. For most, there's no reason to cook a meal; once prey is captured, instinct says dig right in! It can be a gruesome sight, mangled bodies gorged upon leaving bloodstained faces, but it's natural. As is the hunt itself - any size of game can be found in the forest, and no one will go hungry for long. The magic that dwells here ensures a catch even for the clumsiest predator. Just take care not to stalk one of your own. For a hungry predator, there's no difference between a deer and a deer-like human. THE BOUNDARIES BEYOND     For some, placated is synonymous with bored. While there is a sense of wonder in the beauties of nature that adorn the woods, serene forest life isn't for everyone. Those seeking more adventure can explore the challenging slopes of Waco Mountain. Barthala's influence is weaker on those bluffs than in Josa Forest itself, so thrill chasers won't be disappointed. Lose the path, slip on loose rocks, fall into a stream and spend a night wet and cold, there are many perils that come with traveling a mountain-side. Scattered ruins offer some shelter, their walls carved with images resembling Barthala, a dragon, and three other stranger creatures. While the deity's pacification does not flow as deeply through this region, all are still save from mortal wounds, and the veil cast over their memories will not lessen. If you have made it this far, however, there is no reason to try to return to the main city of Dranbu. Accommodations are always available in the neighboring villages: Phares in the north, and Stroln in the south. These villages are in friendly competition with one another, and will tempt travelers with women and men of their kind in order to draw in business to their hotels. FINAL OOC NOTES     No REP is available for this log. REP will now be primarily available through achieving NPC quests, which will be available on the 19th! Please keep an eye out for that! Dranbu is entirely available for exploration! You may find that most of Wyver and Olympia Flora/Fauna may be found in the forest as well. For more information on your characters' (opt-in) Metamorphosis, please refer to the November Outline! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[mollymocked]

[Molly stretches his arms over his head and yawns, showing pointed canines. If he weren't naturally so weirdly catlike, that would probably be a warning sign, but it's a fairly normal state for him. Lithe and relaxed, with his tail twitching in a warm patch of sunlight.]

Oh, absolutely. It's been a long walk. I think we all need a moment to just... relax.

[The word comes out a little stilted, like he meant to say something else and it caught in his throat so he said the next possible word. His pink-flushed cheeks deepen further and his eyes trail from Peter's face down to his chest before he slips them back to the sky peeking above the treeline, casting leafy shadows on his scar-marked and tattooed skin. He's unapologetic for the staring, but staring too long feels like tilting your head to look down a well. You just feel like after a certain point you're going to accidentally tumble in, and what happens next is anyone's guess.]

[rosebyanyother]

[Peter's eyes track the long arch of Molly's body as he stretches. He doesn't have any particular issue with continuing to stare. It's a bit mesmerizing. And those tattoos are fascinating. Peter's fingers flex against the sudden desire to touch them.

...Hm. Well. That's an urge that isn't necessarily surprising to him. Except in its sudden strength.

Still. Of all the possible urges, this one is less objectionable.]

A little relaxation sounds just right.

[...Which is where this forest does make Peter faintly antsy. Not that he would ever admit it. Still, it's in the back of his mind.

The back, currently. Molly is in the forefront. He makes his way closer, abandoning his jacket nearby to lay down in the grass next to the tiefling on his back. It's cool against his skin and provides a temporary stop-gap for the way it tingles. Peter lets out a low, pleased hum, and then turns on his side to look over at Molly with a smile.]

[mollymocked]

[Proximity does a number on Molly and he suddenly develops an acute understanding of all the smells in the area- Peter's, most importantly. It stands out against the backdrop of the underlying forest smells like a brightly painted sign- eyecatching and meant to make everything else look pale and paltry by comparison. Molly's stomach ties itself up in knots, and the part of him so accustomed to the feel of a good high says cheekily, Oh, you're high on something right now, my friend.

A little rude for the forest to slip him something without him having asked for it, but maybe he did in his own way. He has been feeling a bit too melancholy about the situation at hand. He could use this. He could use, dare he say it, more than this.

Idly, he pulls up one lanky leg and uses the toe of his left boot to start working the right boot off. It draws attention to the cut of his pants, the lean dancer's legs. If he's doing it on purpose, there's no indication on his serene, contented face.

He's testing the waters a bit. Molly does many things, but he doesn't chase and he doesn't pursue. He invites interest and always says yes when people decide they want to open those doors. There's a significant difference in being open to indulging and chasing down every warm body. He likes emotional connections, even with strangers, and he doesn't like using people.

He doesn't particularly like being used either, but that's kind of inevitable when you're always willing to say yes. Tieflings are exotic and curious things. A lot of people have gotten into his space claiming they've never fucked one and they'd like to try. It's always been fun, so it's not as if he minds that much.

Peter's probably one of the two types- genuine interest or curiosity- and the way this forest is affecting him means it's probably mutual. He'll figure out which in a moment.

For now, the boots have got to go. Once he works the first one off, he wiggles his bare toes and starts trying to push the other off, with marginally more difficulty. Bare feet are difficult to get traction with.]

[rosebyanyother]

[It likely does not help that Peter's particular scent is distinctive. He's exactly the kind of reckless romantic who took one comment from Juno about a cologne smelling nice to decide he's going to wear it. Permanently. It smells - apparently - heady and like foreign spices. Depending on whether you trust Juno as an objective narrator.

He does, of course, end up looking at the way Molly's legs stretch up. It's more curiosity than outright hunger but there is a certain heaviness that starts to settle in the pit of his stomach.]

Do you need a hand with that?

[Getting the second boot off, he means. His voice is still low and easy, though there might be a blooming tightness behind it. A tinge.

It is, for the record, a very even mix between genuine interest and curiosity. Peter is also...well, not the kind to often pursue. It usually takes a bit. Or a genuinely fascinating person. Molly is very interesting, but he hasn't absolutely felt the need to act on his vague feelings of attraction yet.

Until now.]

[mollymocked]

Mmm? [Molly's murmur lilts upwards into a question, faux-puzzled by the question as if he has not even realized that his foot is having a hard time hooking onto the edge of the boot. He's a little bit distracted by that foreign spice. It's a little Marquesian in a way. He's always liked the idea of Marquet, though he's never been there. Be pleased, indeed.

Playing dumb is cute and all, but it doesn't answer a question hanging in the air. The nihilistic Moonweaver oath of does any of it matter, just do what you want and don't be a fanatic about it hangs over his head like approval for a goddess who can't reach him. That's the answer, really. Follow the road and see where it leads.

He drops his bare foot onto the grass and digs his toes in. The other is bent upwards, his knee pointing skyward. He extends it a bit, balancing it just enough that Peter can get his hands around the base and pull.]

Knee-high boots. Good for keeping everything clean, but a royal arsehole to get off when you need to keep your hands elsewhere. [In particular, behind his head.]

[rosebyanyother]

Very stylish, too.

[Peter is happy where he is in the grass, but since he offered, he pushes back up so that he's kneeling beside Molly. One hand curls over the top lightly. The other does not immediately find its way around the heel of the boot.

Instead, he draws it down the back of Molly's leg. Starting around his calf and slowly - but not quite teasingly - trailing down. If he was asked, he could perhaps say that he was just appreciating the leather.

Really, he's testing the water. Judging reactions, looking for approval or disapproval.]

[mollymocked]

[They are very nice leather. Truly a marvel of craftsmanship. Some shoemaker is very proud of himself. The legs they're encasing? Truly a marvel of two years of acrobatics training and this body's previous inhabitant clearly valuing grace over musculature.

Molly is not in the least bit puzzled by these actions. He'd be more surprised if it didn't come to that. He's arrogant enough to expect everyone to want him, and kind enough to not make any sudden moves on those assumptions. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and cants his head slightly. A sly grin spreads across his face, the corner of it nearly reaching the peacock feathers curling across his cheek.]

Oh no, please. Don't let me stop you. I'm interested. [Even if he wasn't a naturally curious person, the pollen in the air is making it hard to think clearly beyond boot is a barrier to physical contact- remove boot. His mouth is dry and just observing this has made him forget that he just wanted to lie down and maybe do a little bit of self-exploration in a fucking picturesque glade. Self-exploration? Really? When there's a person right here?]

[rosebyanyother]

[Peter's lips quirk faintly at Molly proclaiming himself "interested". He'd be faintly affronted at his motives being assumed but...he's also not being particularly subtle about this. So he has no real room to protest. Very well then. Off the shoes come. His hand reaches Molly's heel and he begins to tug the boot off.

He could make that slow too, but something about that grin makes the heaviness in the pit of his stomach into warmth and he finds himself feeling a bit more rushed than normal. The boot isn't tugged off with haste, but it comes off more quickly than it otherwise might.

Once it's removed, Peter sets it aside and stares down at Molly for a few moments. Probably before he even has time to lower his leg, though, he'll find that he suddenly has a thief straddling his hips. Peter moves fluidly and quickly to accomplish this.]

Your skin makes such a remarkable canvass. [The scars and the tattoos alike.] Do you mind if I touch you?

[In for a penny, in for a pound. But for all that he didn't ask before he took it a little further, he will get consent to do this first. He's not that desperate.]

[mollymocked]

[He is fast and not just in pursuit of whatever it is he's chasing, either. Molly lets out a surprised oof noise and inhales steadily, trying to minimize the amount of breathing that comes from deep within that might draw attention to the fact that it didn't take much to get him hard. Normally, he wouldn't mind so much, but normally he'd like to think there's a bit more finesse to the art than and suddenly there is a person on top of me- okay we're doing this. The pollen in the air is not fucking around, but they're about to. And that's cool. That's fine. That's not the worst thing that's happened to him this week, and is actually a bloody improvement. He's into this.

So here he is, definitely hard, definitely not giving one shit that he is because gods, one leg is bent upwards, just barely scraping the edge of Peter's back while his toes and fingers dig into the grass. And he's being asked for permission to touch him. Molly barks a laugh, in spite of himself, and that puts any illusions about anything out to pasture.]

That is a question you never have to ask. [Gods know he never does... well, within reason, anyway. He doesn't just go around groping people like an asshole, but personal space invasion and hugs and kisses are just part of the Molly Experience. And just in case that wasn't clear enough, he adds, a bit breathy:] Yes.

[rosebyanyother]

I like to ask.

[A thief with an appreciation for consent is perhaps a strange thing but there it is. Peter often takes what isn't his to take but he isn't in the habit of taking things from those it'll truly hurt.

...Well. Most of the time. It...depends.

In any event. Molly certainly isn't someone he'll readily take what he shouldn't from. There may come a day where that ceases to be the case. When the stakes are high enough. Not today, not now.]

But I'm glad to hear it.

[He contemplates Molly for a few moments longer, taking it all in. He is - unfortunately for Molly's attempts to minimize it - distinctly aware of the fact that he's aroused. Peter is very perceptive. But perhaps it's a solace that Peter, too, is somewhat obviously turned on already. His pants are on the tight side, and there's something of a bulge at the front now.

With a faint smile and with permission granted, he reaches down and runs his fingers up the sides of Molly's body. They come to rest against his ribcage as Peter uses his thumbs to explore the patterns of scars across his chest. It's not quite reverent, but it's surprisingly soft.]

[mollymocked]

[Given that the sudden and inevitable arousal is mutual, Molly doesn't really feel the need to be conflicted about it anymore, which allows him to relax and let it happen. The scars are always everyone's first go-to, most of them old when Molly was new, and thus a part of the tapestry he's made of his body that he can't fully claim. Luckily, he's lost count of the ones that came with the body, mixed in with nicks and cuts from improper sword juggling and the occasional confused attempt to bleed for his magic in the wrong places. Here on the torso, narrowly missing vital areas below his ribs, there's a jagged series of arrow scars; here on the left wrist, a series of long scars from shoving his hand into the clockwork warden. Those ones were new when he first came to El Nysa, and even those are faded.

It's with this scarred up, tattoo-free hand that he reaches up and clasps Peter by the wrist, running a thumb gently up and down the sensitive areas where the nerves are clumped together, dragging gently along the heel of the palm, and then back again. Just simple touch is all. He appreciates that for all that there's a buzzing in the air and the aching need is agonizing with every touch that doesn't offer relief, there's still room for exploration and feeling each other out. Sex and intimacy are emotional, loving things. Molly can no more fling off his clothes and go straight into meaningless passion than a displacer beast can decide to take up tap dancing. It just doesn't work. It removes all the godsdamned fun of it. Even if it means feeling his stomach doing contortions worthy of Mona and Yuli, he keeps his focus entirely on the intimacy part of it, not the cold, impassive fucking part.]

[rosebyanyother]

[Peter has had plenty of run-ins with sex without intimacy. He's fucked people while having no feelings for them at all (pretending feelings is an entirely different thing) and he's been used before. All standard business when you have goals that are more simply accomplished by sexual means.

But this is personal and there's no need to make it more perfunctory than it needs to be. Even with the urge for now and more. It feels much more right to take as much time as he possibly can before they inevitably fall too much under the forest's spell.

And it is, of course, much more enjoyable. You feel more. Like the way that Peter's breath stutters as Molly skates a thumb up and down the inside of his wrist and onto his palm. It's partially the plain sensation of it and partially the fact that it brings back memories. Memories of not so long ago, when he was unsteady and untethered in the wake of a ghostly possession. Of Juno - bloody and battered from Peter's own hands - offering him a grounding touch in just that way.

He closes eyes - not against it, but with it - for a few moments as his fingers continue to map out scars. And then, impulsively, he stretches himself along Molly's body to steal a warm kiss.]

[mollymocked]

[As soon as their lips meet, Molly is all but purring against his mouth in a gently smug and satisfied way. It would be easy for someone to get impatient in these circumstances and for Molly to have to be firm or just relent and feel shoddy about it later, but the kiss means his lead is being followed, and that's good. That's more than good. He tangles his fingers in Peter's hair, sharp nails pricking lightly against the scalp- Molly's sense of intimacy might be pure of intent for all that he's wild and untamed and often kinky when things throw down, but it come with many, many sharp edges in even the gentle moments.

He utilizes his flexibility to his advantage, bending his spine just a bit upwards into the kiss and drawing his thigh up between Peter's legs to rub just a bit of friction against him. It feels like an afterthought, something that happened subconsciously, but the way Molly breaks the kiss to grin wickedly says everything. He knows what he's doing. Affection does not preclude a little bit of teasing.

[rosebyanyother]

[Oh, that grin.

Peter is balanced above Molly, his hands stilled for the time being as he uses them to keep from tipping over and likely giving them both concussions. As soon as that thigh had come up, he'd inhaled sharply. The sensation had been more than he expected and he'd found himself pushing against it, seeking more with a...faintly embarrassing insistence.

It takes him a moment to reel himself in, and no doubt it has absolutely contributed to the way that Molly's now looking at him like he's the cat who's got into the cream.

After a moment, Peter chuckles...even as he leans back down. Not to kiss Molly again, but to nip down along his collar bone. Sharp little bites, too, that don't break the skin but do employ his inhumanly sharp canines.]

[mollymocked]

[Ah-haa. So he's not the only one with sharp teeth around here. Molly so rarely gets to be on the other end of that, and he has to say... Very into it. One doesn't embrace the powers he has without being just a bit into pain... Not that there's very many things he's not into. Aphro dust maybe on the short list if it wasn't advertised on the menu, but it sure as sunshine isn't bothering him anymore.

He pulls his fingers away from Peter's head with much trepidation but musses his hair as he slides away, stretching his arms over his head so he can arch his back just a little bit more, still grinding his knee against Peter's groin in time with the kisses, while his stomach quivers in anticipation, and he eventually has to just throw off his shirt completely, and return his hands to Peter's hair to gently guide him down to the other scars, the nicks that look like awkwardly placed hatchmarks on a madman's prison alongside larger, more puckered wounds from arrows and tridents. Down, down...]

aaaah i must have accidentally deleted this tag from my inbox...

[rosebyanyother]

[Peter doesn't seem to mind being guided, though if Molly tries to press him too far and too quickly, he'll be met with resistance. They've seemed to wordlessly agree on a pace so even though Peter's breath is shuddering by the time Molly begins to press him down, he doesn't deviate from the pace.

It means spending time on each of those scars, tracing them with his tongue and brushing his lips against them. He is methodical about it, in fact. Each and every slash, while his breath blooms against Molly's skin in warm bursts.]

[mollymocked]

[The resistance causes him to pull back as he bites his tongue through a curse about a pace he was fine with until the butterflies started. He bites down on his bottom lip, pricking it enough to draw blood and put the taste in his mouth that distracts him for the moment. The copper scent, so familiar to him, mingles with the smells of the glade and adds to Molly's own aroma of sweat and various spicy oils and incense and that constant ever present old copper piece smell that never goes away no matter how much he cleans himself or his clothes. Blood is just a natural part of him, whether he's drawn it or not.

He sucks on his bottom lip, letting the taste linger, letting him sink into that instead of craving the taste of that mouth on his or more- always more. That tongue is not the only thing he's aching to taste.

His hands move from guiding to settle on Peter's shoulders, pads of his fingers resting on the back of his neck, while his long fingernails drag through the soft hair.] They've all got stories. [Most of them lies. The words catch in his throat and he swallows hard, the blood acting as a chaser.] You've got your mouth on a lot of history.

[rosebyanyother]

[Honestly, if Peter knew that he was causing Molly frustration he would...

Enjoy it. A little. It's just part of his nature, to enjoy being difficult. To be a little bit unexpected and to force people to deal with him. They're very well matched that way. No doubt it's the reason he likes being in Molly's company as much as he does.

Listening to Molly's voice and the catch in it, Peter smiles, lips stretching against the skin below them. If he were a cat, he'd be purring at the way Molly's nails whisper through his hair.]

Tell me one.

[His voice is low, husky. He doesn't stop his careful investigation, and he shifts his focus a little from the smaller scars to one of the more impressive ones. Very, very gently he nips at it, and then sets to kissing it.]

This one, tell me the story of this one.

[It doesn't matter if it's true or false. He wants to hear Molly talk.]

[mollymocked]

[That one, that one... Three small puckered scars an inch apart that aren't perfect like the tiny cuts or the ones that look like deep arrow gouges. They rip at the edges, like something pierced and then tore itself out of him. He has matching one on his back, opposite it.]

Trident. [Molly sticks his tongue out slightly, relishing the feel of teeth on scars for no reason other than delight that yes, that's mine, and you can do whatever you like with it. He could lie, but the truth is grander and a bit funnier in a way, and he can't resist being clever.] There's another one on my back... Truth be told, getting stabbed in the back and the front at the same time generally goes much better than that for me. And fish persons don't respect safe words at all. Just a note.

[rosebyanyother]

[Molly mentions the scar on his back and Peter...readjusts himself. Molly has guided him just low enough that it makes sense to move anyway. If he doesn't, he'll have to bow his back uncomfortably in the near future if he wants to keep exploring.

So. Without actually parting lips from skin - hey, he's flexible too - Peter manages to shift himself so that he's kneeling between Molly's legs instead of straddling him. It takes some maneuvering, but it also makes it so that he can slip one of his hands in between the grass and Molly's body. His fingers quest to find the scars in question. And if he runs his fingers a bit along Molly's spine in the process?

Well. He can't see, he's just mapping by touch.

The little joke gets an obliging bit of laughter, though.]

I'll keep that in mind, should it ever become relevant.

[mollymocked]

[Oh gods, they're both flexible. Molly's eyes are half-lidded as he watches Peter move. He bends his spine inwards just a bit, giving him a little more space to trace the skin and the secondary, matching scar, and then bends upwards even more to let him trace the line of his spine all the way down to his tail, which is hitting the ground with impatient little thuds, giving away the fact that he may have made a solid mistake in insisting this was a moment to be savored.

He shouldn't be nearly this overwhelmed right now. He feels starved and needy, like he hasn't been touched in ages, which simply isn't true. He has. But not here. Not in this magical, magical place with the scent of flowers and sweet forest air and that pollen that he knows is responsible for this heat inside of him, but he can't be bothered, because gods he needed this.]

Are you memorizing them? [It's a gentle jab- flirtatious, more than anything.]

[rosebyanyother]

I'm giving them their due.

[Peter almost sounds serious, but then he lifts his head just enough to flash a self-satisfied grin at Molly.]

In deference to their history, of course.

[You can sure as hell bet that he is tracing that lovely arch of spine all the way down. Molly is, after all, being so obliging as to show it off. It would be rude not to take the invitation.

Besides, he's curious about the tail. As he kisses another scar just a little further down, his fingers gently brush up against side of it before he strokes up with his palm.]

[mollymocked]

[Molly makes a sharp, sudden noise at the sudden sensation on his tail. Jammed with nerves due to its connection with the spine and made of whipcord muscle and rough flesh, a tiefling's tail is a sensitive thing. It twitches a bit underneath Peter's hands and Molly's toes curl with anticipation.]

Just don't pull that. Mmph. [His fingers knead into Peter's scalp a bit.] It's a bit sensitive. Take that as you like. Curiosity is always rewarded here. [Even when the pace is agonizing. There's a fire in his stomach and his skin feels even more preternaturally warm than it normally is.]

[rosebyanyother]

Oh, I would never.

[Is he lightly going to scratch his nails against the base though? Definitely. It's delicate to begin with, barely a whisper of pressure.

Meanwhile, it's lucky for Molly that Peter isn't entirely unaffected by all of this. As much as he enjoys teasing, the pollen has him in its grasp too. The way that Molly's fingers knead his scalp has him shivering. Perhaps he does want more than Molly's skin and scars against his lips. Or, rather...still skin. A different area.

Without more discussion, he begins to trail his lips down a little more quickly. Still kissing and licking as he goes, just...not as agonizingly slow.]

[mollymocked]

[A tiny sound comes out of Molly's throat, like a choked giggle and his knee comes up again, very slightly, as a half-hearted deterrent that doesn't seem to carry much force behind it (like a playful "stoooop"). Barely a nudge into his abdomen, and then down again as Peter's wandering mouth begins to pick up momentum.]

I don't know about you, but I think there might be something wrong with this forest.

[He sounds unbothered, but he's also breathless with anticipation and that seems to be overriding all other emotion. By the time Peter has gotten to his hips, he's shifted his legs to pin him in on either side with slightly bent knees, expectantly.] Or very right. Hard to tell the difference from this angle.