IC INBOX / BUSINESS CARD ( ARCHIVE AS OF 12/13 )

[manuscripture]

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[ Somewhere around town-- at the bookstore, the Tomoe-Kaname Bakery, attached to posts and notice boards --you find a small white notecard. On it is printed a little message and some numbers in ornate lettering. If you look closely, it reads the following: ]

Rohan Kishibe, Mangaka & Visual Artist
Owner Pro Tempore of Ebony Threads Tailor Shop
Highly Experienced.
Commissions & Advertising For Hire
Pay Negotiable.
Contact At: 512.66.730.91 for inquiries
Castle Lüvchaque - Directly North of Bavan per appointment ONLY.

(( feel free to use this as an action-based prompt too. any random interactions will MOST LIKELY take place in the form of walk-ins at the tailor shop unless it's pre-planned. just drop a starter in here! ))

Comments

[manuscripture]

[ An answer more suitable than stroking his ego.

He wouldn't lie. He might be a snake, but he doesn't bother with lying. Putting up pretty words for other people in order to save them or make them feel better is fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.

Jotaro wanted to be with him instead of by himself. Rohan had done the opposite. He isolated himself in their bathroom, cleaned himself, and then drew until he passed out. He never spoke of it.

His lips part as the other man leans forward, anticipating a kiss--... Rerouted to bearing his weight in fleeting regret. His hands climb up his arm, wrapping around it and holding it close to his chest and pushing his cheek to Jotaro's shoulder. Pale yellowish light dies out and he closes his eyes. ]

Shhh... I know, I know... [ He repeats from before. ] I would fix this. I wish I could. [ Erase the experience. Save Jotaro from all of it. All Rohan can do is hold him tighter-- even closer, just by the arm. ]

I know...

[ There's a theme. ]

[starmark]

Thanks. Thanks, Rohan.

[It's an echo of the day when this was reversed, when he'd had Rohan in his arms and the wreckage of the tailor shop behind them. This time he's the one leaning, the one seeking reassurance and comfort. The tight hold is a blessing, even with how awkward his wings might make it.

For a few solid minutes, he just breathes, vaguely aware that he's instinctively radiating a low level of warmth just from the proximity to Rohan. When he does find his voice again, it's steadier, less shot.]

I never...did this for you. Did I...?

[manuscripture]

For me?

[ It never came up. It never came up. Minutes pass of nothing but Rohan hugging his arm and listening to how the water as evaporated from his skin and not considering where else it has stuck.

It never came up. ]

No. I didn't ask for it.

[ For it to be handled like this... It was too soon. Never could this kind of closeness been alright for either of them. The fog didn't skip on Rohan's desire to eat people. He got it right out of the gate with no hesitation. Too soon. ]

I wouldn't have asked you to... I did it on my own.

[ Like he did EVERYTHING up until that point. ]

[starmark]

I'm sorry. I would've been there if I'd known. If I could've...

[He hesitates, though, lingering over whatever the theoretical ending of that statement might've been and ultimately deciding not to finish it. Could he really have offered support, way back then? He hadn't even thought he was changing yet. How could he ever have empathized with the level of thought and gravitas that Rohan possesses to extend to him now?

He couldn't have. There's no way he could have.

And yet he remembers sitting there hovering over Rohan's legless body while he'd slept on the floor — remembers finding him and immediately being struck with visions of his mother's collapse — remembers touching his scales, carrying him to bed, trying to console him with whatever he could offer through the gawkiness of his own fumbling awkwardness.

He wasn't able to do this, be this, for Rohan then. But it wasn't as though he'd done nothing either, was it?

If I could fix it for you, I would. It's the sentiment they've both extended to each other, by now.]

This is all so fucked up, huh...?

[manuscripture]

Uh...

[ That is one way of putting it. Slowly, slowly, Rohan loosens on his arm so that he may look up properly instead of having his face buried in Jotaro's upper arm. Not that he minds any of that.

... It's more appropriate. He does not pull away farther than he has to, only to turn his eyes up. There is still this hugging hold he has on his arm. ]

I think that's an understatement. [ He is not going to ask if Jotaro is feeling better. That's uncouth. ] Un-fucking it is wishful thinking. We try to make it less fucked. You make it less fucked for me.

[ The profanity is pretty damn appropriate at the moment, okay. ]

[starmark]

Yeah...yeah, me too.

[He ducks his head briefly, swallowing hard like he's trying to clear his throat, and ends up with his gaze drifting from the bucket to Rohan's coils to his own messy clothes to the floor. Low, always low, that's where his gaze stays.

But then — ]

Can you...um. W-With your coils. Like you do when I'm...carrying you, will you...

[Physical security. Tangible affection. These are the things he's going to ask for.]

[manuscripture]

[ Jotaro is very good at being direct. Unsure, stilted requests are not what Rohan is used to. He isn't in any shape to be carrying him, even less so where he would take him. His brow furrows-- He... ]

Like what?

[ Snakebutt gets it before Rohan himself does. His tail end is slipping across the ground and pushing his body forward. The thicker parts near where his hips would be shift and soon enough, he is wrapped (albeit awkwardly position-wise) about Jotaro's waist. It is sort of sitting in his lap, but sort of hugging him with enough of his body that he isn't pinning his wings or his arms.

It's a hug. That's what it is. A full-body hug. Wrapped around him like heavy, heavy piles of ribbon. Enough of him trails loosely to the side. He never used to be this long. ]

This? [ His hands find Jotaro's face again, without the rag or any water this time. His palms are already so warm from being everywhere else, they rest gently on his cheeks with one higher than the other. His lips find his forehead against his better judgment to press one kiss there. Two. Three.

This? How about this? ]

[starmark]

...That. Yeah. That.

[By all rights, he should be terrified of that. He's wrapped in coil after coil of an anaconda-like grip, caught and to some degree immobilized. The gargoyle certainly doesn't like it, the lack of freedom, the constriction. On some level even the human in him finds it unsettling, the combination of the loss of freedom and the potential for injury at the mercy of someone else.

But the predominant part of him, the one that matters right now, is the one that's so tired and sick and done, and that's the part that finds security in this. He's not going anywhere. He has nowhere to go. He doesn't have to do anything, and he's not alone.

Symbiotes, he thinks hazily as his eyes start to close, as Rohan holds his face and presses kisses to his forehead that never once bring with them the scrape of fangs — symbiotic relationships are interconnected ones, tangled up like the two of them are now. This one is mutualism, where everyone benefits.

That's not so bad, he muses sleepily. His mother's Stand was a parasite. The other way is...so much better.]

M'tired. S'good.

[manuscripture]

[ The human in him finds it unsettling too. This is how he kills people. He breaks all of their bones, turning them to ragdolls by the time he lets them go. This is a different animal, firm but gentle. Warm. He's safe. He keeps fluttering kisses all over Jotaro's forehead and to the bridge of his nose where he stops. ]

Get some sleep. [ On the floor. Sitting up. Sure...? ] Rest now. [ He doesn't speak like this to people. His voice is devoid of crassness, softly instructing him to recharge. If he hasn't noticed already, he will definitely notice in the morning that Rohan's pattern has indeed changed-- almost all place with uneven white diamond shapes up and down his arms to his tail. It's different from his jailbird stripes and might be a stress thing. He's not really proud of it. Being close has him more comfortable no matter what. ]

I'll stay awake for a little bit. You just sleep, okay? I--... [ He stops abruptly. Sighing: ] Goodnight.

[starmark]

Mmmn. Nnnwait.

[He hooks one arm free, half-blindly reaching up and seeking by touch until he finds the back of Rohan's neck; with light pressure, he moves him back down within reach and steals a kiss of his own — equally light and fluttering, but at the very least a proper one, pressed faintly against the mouth.

Then and only then does he relent, shifting around just enough to get comfortable before letting himself go lax, with a full stomach and a blank mind and the security of knowing that he's not alone wrapped all around him in thick sleek coils.]

'Night.

[manuscripture]

[ Boy, does he feel like he earned this. A kiss on the mouth he tried for days ago but didn't get until now after they both went through an Event. Thank God. He does no gloating and reciprocates with the faintest of leans.

They tried for it earlier and it had been too soon. This worked. This made him relax and after a little while shut his eyes. His new bed was nice but this was much, much better. Per usual, Rohan's chin finds one of the gargoyle's shoulder, settling there and puffing cool air against his neck for the rest of the night.

... They could scrape the rest of the blood off in the morning. ]