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vorbo from my bl comic ([personal profile] affal) wrote2022-02-13 11:43 pm
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AION TELEOS | inbox


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passio: (pic#12189865)

[personal profile] passio 2022-08-02 07:18 am (UTC)(link)


[ dextera doesn’t usually see makoto like this. he’s learned a few different aspects by now, so the unusual side doesn’t surprise him, but he does note that makoto is capable of a face that is neither twisted in anger or flashing some cold superiority. the edges are softened in what seems to be genuine curiosity.

hesitant to make makoto take out his shard just yet, a request he has for a time after they’ve both satisfied themselves, dextera continues speaking only in the words he can find a way to communicate. he brought his notebook along just in case, but with makoto, it feels more important to him to answer from more than just a list of phrases he’s pre-written. there’s a personal connection in telling makoto letter-by-letter. ]


Hungry.

[ in that small, unassuming word, there are layers. obviously the hunger is of a different kind than dextera might feel daily; he satisfies himself from one meal to the next with normal food, even leaning toward vegetation over the array of meat available from hunting and fishing, but there’s only so long he can last before his body needs this.

conflicted by his own nature, the look in his eyes is fleetingly guilty when he answers like that. it only smooths out when he turns it back on makoto, picking up a thread from one of their earliest meetings. this rare thing they have in common. ]


You, too?
passio: (pic#6016936)

[personal profile] passio 2022-08-09 05:12 am (UTC)(link)
[ dextera accepts makoto’s answer with both gratitude and grace, even if makoto himself seems unsatisfied by his explanation. ‘hunger’ doesn’t entirely encapsulate the way dextera feels, either, even if it’s the only word that can describe the sensation that sits in his stomach. he craves not just flesh, but life, a deep need that’s been impressed on so many after the events of the blaze. it’s the worst for dextera, though, a reluctant acknowledgment that god has changed him.

straddling two existences, the only thing dextera can do to maintain his corporeal body is consume. and when he’s fixated on that, his own body’s presence in the real world, it isn’t all that strange that emotional wires would get crossed in ways he can’t explain to many people. ]




[ he nods. his natural silence allows that simplicity without judgment.

then, he withdraws the spoils one delicate revelation at a time. the intestines, the liver, the heart—dextera hadn’t been lying about keeping them fresh, each of them still flushed and warm as if from the body, though with no twitching pulse of tissue the way they might be truly ripped from a torso.

he lays them out on the bag. ]
passio: (pic#12191782)

for real this time cw cannibalism

[personal profile] passio 2022-08-15 02:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[ besides the communion itself, makoto’s directed attention to the heart gets the first real pique of interest from dextera, who had up until now been as calm as collected as one could be with a sack of organs. his throat bobs with some suppressed response, but the swallow that comes after is obvious as anything. he presses his thumb against his bottom lip, digging the blunt nail into his own soft flesh in an attempt at composure, and he nods. there’s just the slightest metallic tang still on his skin that he can taste.

yes, the heart is his “favorite.” ]




[ when he had shown makoto initially, the blood of the body had kept the organ bright red, hot with life, though the time that’s passed and dextera’s cleanliness seems to have taken some of that immediate crimson away from it. for better or worse though, there’s a little trick that dextera has learned from the more human meta-beings—the aries, nicl and nicr, all once living people themselves before dextera’s selfish mistake turned them into little more than livestock—in order to keep his meat as fresh as possible. the heart is surrounded by a thin membrane; the thickest part of it was removed when dextera properly eviscerated the body, but there’s still a layer around it now, protecting it from things it has no idea are no longer a concern.

withdrawing his hand from his lip, dextera takes the heart to his mouth. his eyelids are half-lowered, his attention evidently focused in wide pupils. then, he sinks his teeth into that pale membrane and peels it away with a visceral rip. he takes tissue of the heart itself with the movement, and the disturbance brings with it a gush of blood that had been kept safely inside the sac. inevitably staining his sleeve, red runs down his arm and his nostrils flare in response to the iron scent of life. there’s a reason the heart is his favorite, no matter how long it took him to come to this conclusion.

lips now wet with the blood he’s released, dextera breathes an open-mouthed sigh across the organ… and offers it to makoto, a gift after all. ]
passio: (pic#12270470)

[personal profile] passio 2022-08-18 03:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ dextera has seen the twisted ones eat. longneck had begged for a heart, just like this—something he had hoped to plant and flower in his delusion, but he had been unable to stop himself from devouring it just the same as everyone else. and even so, it’s different for dextera, different for even makoto. these are not desires brought about by insanity at the end of the world.

for dextera, the gore of it all is proximity to god. for makoto… well, he doesn’t entirely know, but he can begin to guess at something from the sight in front of him. ]




[ he’s so enraptured by the stark contrast of colors—white teeth and skin, black hair, the carmine splash of blood—that his breath catches upon being given back the heart. true to makoto’s anticipation, he moves to deny it, but it’s done in barely more than second. as soon as he’s given real permission, dextera is greedy in the way he takes it.

despite offering, there had been some envy in watching makoto eat something as rare and beautiful as the heart. he won’t give it again, now that he knows he doesn’t have to share. it’s in this second indulgence that he can really open up; his usually glassy eyes seem to gain life, as if every second he isn’t consuming is a slow march to an end. everyone is bound to die, it’s inevitable, but going without this pushes him along faster than most. though his aion body has kept him alive even as he’s denied himself in horos, he needs it. he needs this, tearing piece by piece until his hands are empty and he has only the blood left to lick. ]


Mm…

[ he exhales an urgent little sound, neither a complaint nor a whimper exactly but more like a reflex to desire, as he takes his own sleeve in his mouth and sucks the blood off that too. his skin is newly flushed, hot with color for the first time in months. ]
passio: (pic#6016780)

[personal profile] passio 2022-08-29 01:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ in the same way makoto has never focused so much on the heart, dextera has relatively less experience with the entrails. they’ve never served quite the purpose for him that the rest of the body does—it doesn’t thrill him to bite into them the way that it does to eat a heart, or even to sink his canines into the thick, firm flesh of a thigh. if he thinks of it as a gift from makoto, though, the point of view refreshes what he might have otherwise dismissed as unpalatable. he takes the offered line of meat, testing the new weight of it against his palm, and he follows makoto’s lead in consuming it; though it isn’t a first for him, makoto’s little quip—or perhaps just an honest statement to cover the mess he might make—encourages dextera to fall a step behind as makoto figures out the best way to treat the meal.

less interest in the offal means more interest in makoto himself. though dextera stuffs his mouth with the gusto of a man who skipped breakfast, fingers slipping past his own lips to keep the heft of the meat secure inside as he chews, his eyes inevitably remain on the person he’s invited here to partake. ]




[ remain, and remain, up to the point that there’s nothing else dextera could distract himself with anyway and he can only watch the line of makoto’s body as he shifts to protect himself. dextera assumes at first it’s simply to rearrange his position after such focus on the meal, but—the body language, he knows. it’s more obvious still with makoto’s flushed expression. dextera had gotten excited in his own way, but more aligned with an animal being given its favorite treat than the much more human response of… this. it’s not something he had fully known about makoto, though it doesn’t make him regret the meeting.

for lack of anything better, the wide gap in his knowledge of how to relate to other people showing its hand now, dextera summons up what he would like someone to show him at a vulnerable moment.

utterly bereft of judgment, he smiles. ]
passio: (pic#15616636)

[personal profile] passio 2022-09-05 12:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ dextera has been in this situation at much worse times, and sure, that may have been brought about by unnatural lust rather than his own interest, but the fact remains that he’s shown a side to himself to others that he would have preferred to keep secret from most. he’s not going to judge makoto for having a body that can still respond to stimuli… even if the stimuli isn’t what most people would call normal.

he gives makoto the moment he needs, cleaning up what he can though they’ve made pretty good work of it all, and when makoto finally relents to apologize, dextera is a little surprised. ]


…?

[ the question is obvious for the point at which dextera’s expression changes from that reassuring smile to curiosity—years, really? he knows makoto isn’t really human, evidenced by all of him, but he still looks fairly young. years doesn’t seem like the right timeframe for either incident; not what they just shared, nor what makoto’s body just put him through. ]
passio: (pic#12270467)

[personal profile] passio 2022-09-08 05:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ it is utterly unexpected.

makoto, in directing dextera’s head, meets only the most cursory resistance. it’s more instinctive than conscious, and as soon as dextera realizes the touch is gentle and not at all meant to harm, he faces makoto properly and is rewarded for his compliance.

dextera doesn’t taste the blood with the shallowness of the kiss, but he feels it; a visceral, grounding thing amidst the way surprise seems to briefly separate his mind and his body. their circumstances neatly coalesce down to the warm point of contact between their lips, and dextera’s senses have to return one by one as if filing in after makoto expresses his gratitude. ]




[ he doesn’t know what he’s expected to do in this situation. nobody would. no one else in the world has done this, and that faint realization brings with it some relief—there’s technically nothing he can do that’s wrong, if no one has ever dictated what would be right.

even as he tries in the face of makoto’s concern to offer an instant, perfect answer, his body moves before him as it always does.

dextera’s hands lift to frame makoto’s face. his thumbs sit at either corner of makoto’s mouth—his thumbs, too, still have blood on skin and in the ridges of his nails. once he’s actually touching makoto, his hands are grave-still and he seems caught between two places, his body’s desire and his mind’s rationale leaving him somewhat bereft of a next step. his wide gaze into makoto’s is likely the most sustained eye contact he’s had with another person in—

ages. ever. he doesn’t know what he wants to say. maybe, he just wants to look at makoto until understanding comes to him, a necessary reassurance that makoto has nothing to worry about.

he doesn’t even breathe, holding onto makoto’s sigh in his lungs. ]
passio: (pic#12191783)

[personal profile] passio 2022-10-11 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ dextera has never forgotten what had struck across his mind when they first met. it wasn’t a fleeting, intrusive thought. it wasn’t something he could deny as imagination gone awry in the moment. even now, there’s an urge in him to do it—a part of him thinks it might even be easy, and he wonders how makoto would respond. it’s easy to justify it to himself by thinking makoto might even find it funny, for dextera to reach in and sever his head from his body as has been done at least once before. he can also imagine betrayal in makoto’s gaze, hate and approximate fear like when dextera unleashed his purification in defense. the thought of losing makoto to the power he can’t help is troubling enough that he’s able to push back the at-times-overwhelming whisper of god to correct the distortions in front of him.

i prefer this, says makoto, and dextera takes a soft grounding breath that seems to pull him back into the moment. ]




[ this particular touch is not what dextera truly craves. it’s not insincere, nor is it even unpleasant, but there’s human restraint in it, a barrier between their respective selves that at least for now keeps dextera from melting away at the borders of his identity.

they just have to be their usual selves, treading unusual ground. he can handle that.

dextera’s hand returned to makoto’s face takes on a more experimental touch now, fingers against his skin to feel softness, or the slight shift when makoto blinks. he moves down to that smear of blood and cleans it. he motions tucking hair behind makoto’s ear, even if the only thing out of place is a few wispy strands. there’s care in the way he tends to makoto, even if the expression on his face is still wide-eyed, his movements so tentative they almost seem designated by someone else.

but, he nods.

of all the kinds of touch two people can share, if the choice is between murder and this, he would choose this any time. the hand that had been guided down to makoto’s neck slips free, resting harmlessly on the ground beside makoto with nowhere to go—and the space, the crook of makoto’s neck and shoulder, is filled with dextera’s head instead, laid there with the kind of awkward haste of someone afraid of being told no. ]