cancelling your apocalypse subscription.

[taryon]

Who: Taryon Darrington (taryon) & others.
What: Catch-all for intro log and Thesa shenanigans.
When: December.
Where: Thesa, space, Wyver, places.
Warning(s): Will edit if any.


(( just kidding, this post is entirely closed starters for people who rudely didn't top-level. want one? I gotchu fam. hit up my cr meme. also since i'm making an awkwardly lengthy ooc note, might as well link my permissions. heck yeah. ))

Comments

[taryon]

[ Taryon whiteknuckles his armrest, holding on for dear life, trying to keep himself in place amidst the ship's dizzy pitching. Thank all the gods they don't have passengers. He's flying at a slight curve, just holding down the lever that makes the ship Go, not really bothering with steering as he's far too focused on the horrible connection that's sprung up between them. ]

You must!

[ A little despairing, perhaps not even his own despair. But just as Koltira buffets him with loneliness, Taryon blazes sunlight. He thinks his own happy thoughts: a young man's first kiss, nervous and exuberant between shelves of books, anxious not to be caught for half a dozen reasons. The first time he defeated an enemy in battle unassisted, the ring of the ram knocking away the sea monster — and the kickback knocking Taryon off the boat. The salt water had tasted like victory. Percy placing a crown of flowers and seashells atop his head. His pride in Keyleth as she was made leader of her people. Tiny Pike sitting on the counter dabbing frosting on his nose so they matched. It's radiant with gladness for the people in his life and the good things he has experiences and above all optimistic hope that this will help somehow. ]

[respired]

[ Koltira groans. How can he explain, how can he make this stranger understand? He braces himself against the ship's controls, his armored fingers digging into the metal. Even as his own wild agitation flares, he feels the press of Taryon's warmth, the goodness of his life and his experiences. He exhales air, but it's only a gust rattling through a broken window, only an expression of shock at the heady heat of it. Something in Taryon's life calls to what remains of Koltira's, to a time of autumn banquets and crisp apples and days and days spent doing not much of anything at all. Laughter with his brother. Training in the temple yard. A girl smiling shyly as his brother tried to ask her to dance.

Koltira can never grasp these memories for long, nor the feelings that come with them. The images are gossamer, shredded by the lightest touch. He shuts his eyes, grits his teeth, bites his lower lip. Black blood wells beneath the points of his canines. ]

Go--now!

[ Go while it lasts. Go while he can keep the chains loose. ]

[taryon]

[ Taryon can hear the sharp, commanding urgency in that tone, enough to make him almost want to bolt from the controls themselves. But lacking anywhere particularly to go, he floors it instead, heart leaping quite pleasantly in his chest at the machine's smooth burst of acceleration beneath him.

He might even be a little smug — however strained the man, or, elf, or-- however strained he may seem, they have found some kind of sympatico where at first it seemed there was none. He sends Koltira some of that triumph, renewed confidence, certain it must be mutual. ]