How soon is now?

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

It’s only been a week without it, but the moment the sun returns and filters through their bedroom window it stirs Hotaru to life so quickly that you would be fair to assume it had been much longer. It’s even more impressive given she is not a morning person and therefore doesn’t hold much appreciation for sunrises. 

In light of that, it’s an uncommon delight to realize she has awoken before Sunjata. Entitled to it, she spends an unknown amount of time watching the colors of the sunrise play across his face, admiring both his beauty and the peaceful expression he wears. Until she finds herself needing his attention more than this reflective moment. 

Tiptoeing her fingers up his sternum, Ru leans in to brush kisses across his cheek and up the side of his nose as she croons a vague sound of contentment to coax him out of his dreams. “Sunnnyyyy. Wake up, hart koning. The sun is back.” A bit of a shame really, she had enjoyed having no competition for a time. Alas, she will glow regardless.

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

It’s been a dark and long week, though not full of the terrors and nightmares many previous ones have harbored. Instead, it has been fairly run of the mill – meetings with new people, secrets shared with his basically stepdaughter – but that doesn’t mean that he’s not looking forward to the filtering sun through the drapes.

Either way, in a rare turn of events, he’s still in a deep sleep when it does filter in, cascading along his face, revealing the faint freckles that darken tenfold in the longheat months, hidden away during the colder seasons. It’s a sleep that’s restful as it is peaceful, a rare occurrence for the Flood that’s only tempered because of the Valkyrie he’s nestled with. He’s unaware of the gentle attempts to wake him and coax him out of his dreams, despite the fact that it certainly works with the flare of his head turning, pressing his stubbled cheek into the pillows further, a scruff of blue feathers flaring along his neck and shoulders, filling in tattoos from a dream that seems to suggest he might be flying.

And after a few more attempts from Hotaru, will the Flood finally crack open a steel eye, squinting at the world as if trying to reorient himself within it while his arm subconsciously squeezes her from where he’d wrapped it around her in his slumber. “Mm?” He asks, accented and not wholly there just yet. “Did somethin’ happen?” Reaching up with his lightning scarred hand he rubs at his eyes and blinks at her right after, fully expecting the sun that he sees to be from her and not from the windows outside.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

Feathers sprout, tickling against her questing lips and nose and making her shake against him with laughter that she vainly tries to muffle - though her consideration shouldn't matter considering she's trying to wake him up. Nose wrinkling against the faint urge to sneeze, Ru grins at his unconscious reluctance to join her in the world of the living and continues her crusade.

Quite accustomed to being squeezed, moved, crushed, or otherwise tugged around by slumbering Floods, Hotaru only smiles into his skin as she's pulled close in a graceless gesture of dawning consciousness. "In Caido, in a single night? Too much to say," she dramatizes, though her face partially muffles it by nature of being shoved into his clavicle. Not that she's complaining, it's a great place to be - though she does lift her head to meet his eyes now that they're open. "The sun, Sunny. It's back. LongNight is over." It doesn't hold the same power over them that it used to, but new seasons and rising suns feel more symbolic on the tail end of an event that had once been so portentous.

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

As consciousness grips him, he stirs further, feeling the pressure of her against his side and the way her face is pressed up against his clavicle and bunched up against blue feathers he takes note of after a heartbeat of a second of his brain fighting to catch up. Eventually (too long, unfortunately, but sue him, he’s basically died so many times it’s a wonder it’s going this well), it clicks and he huffs a breathy sound of a sleepy laugh.

Tearing his gaze away from her to look up and around the room, “thought it was you.” He admits quietly, before he notes the line of golden light streaming across the wall opposite of their bed, over the bunches and wrinkles of blankets they’d both torn up in their sleep. He’s actually somewhat awake and coherent now, at least, for when his hand lifts to cup her cheek and pull back her sleep tousled hair, leaning in to capture her plump lips in a soft and tender good morning kiss. “I'm glad it’s over. It's been so cold.” He admits with a sleepy playful whine as he pulls away, pulling her in to press his forehead to hers.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

Potential brain damage from dying, drowning, or otherwise getting smacked around aside, Hotaru is a patient woman, and Sunjata is well worth waiting for. Even for something as low-stakes as early morning attention (though it will never be low-stakes to her).

As compliments go, it's all the sweeter for its absentmindedness and accompanying innocent sincerity. Tittering happily over the unintentional flattery, a few tawny feathers sprout in her hair to match the fading downy remnants of Sunjata's blue, betraying her nearly literal preening. "I'll always shine just for you, my love, but no - this time it's for everyone to enjoy." It's disgustingly sweet, and somewhere in Torchline Flora likely just gagged, but it's not untrue. Ru doesn't find herself to be a positive enough influence to say she can be his guiding light, but it's a privilege to be able to chase away the shadows in his life, even if only literally. 

She hums a lovesick sound as he kisses her in that unrushed, lingering way of peaceful mornings and no plans. Her laughter is more a wave of movement that transfers from her body to his than a sound, wiggling her forehead against his just enough to make it clear she would've shaken it if they weren't pressed together. "Even just one season of snow is too much for you, you poor thing," she titters and coos with dramatized sympathy. "Should we build our own eternal bonfire? Or maybe a dome where snow can't fall?" Such great lengths they seem for one man's comfort, and yet she'd do it if he so much as said the word. But right now it's just a pleasant, humorous topic to entertain them as the first light of Flowerbirth warms their bare skin.

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

Belatedly noticing the tawny feathers, Sunjata’s scarred hand moves down to stroke and trace along the preening feathers, matching his own in such a stark and otherwise perfect flare. Her comment is disgustingly sweet, and it does spark a soft laugh from his throat as he leans in, content to let her leave it just as much of a toothache as it’s sure to be. Her sound is met with a hum of his own, parting and feeling the slight shake of her head, even as a smile tugs on his scarred face in the face of her dramatic sympathy. “I think I’m good after a day, honestly.” He admits, pulling away from her slightly with a laugh.

Both hands rise to thread back her golden strands of hair, his steel gaze scanning her face before his hands trail down her cheeks and her shoulders, down her arms and to her fingers where he laces his own atop hers, pressing them up against his chest. “Mm, as amazing as that sounds, I did say I would compromise so you could enjoy it.” He reminds her – because while he wasn’t built for anything of the sort when it came to snow, Hotaru was from the mountains. It was as much in her blood as the sea was in his.

A heartbeat passes as he lets that thought sink in for her – another little sickly sweet answer – before a glint of mischief sparks and he utilizes the way he has her hands pressed against his chest and his powerful muscles to flip them on the bed, pressing her back to the nest of fur blankets, before he promptly drops most of his weight onto her like she’s essentially a body pillow, nestling his head in against her shoulder and chest with a sound like glittering laughter painting down the bond in streams of gold to match the sunrise. “You’re up so early, Ru. Are you that excited to go and see the sun?” Aka, does she want him to wake up and move his ass to get some coffee ready and they can curl up on the back porch to watch the snow melt by the tiny lake in their backyard.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

His hands are capable of such strength, yet he's so gentle with her that as he coaxes her hair away from her face and shoulders not so much as a single strand pulls or aches. Such a little thing, but for so long love always arrived in her life accompanied by rivalry and hurt, and to be treated gently without feeling underestimated had seemed like a laughable dream. She loves him, for this and so much more, so it's easy to say, "I can find snow when I want it. I'd turn our shores into beaches one grain of sand at a time if it would make you happier here." Hotaru loves the sun after all, while Sunjata hates the snow. Compromise is an honorable goal, but Hotaru would be happy to live in the world he prefers - while he would be miserable in hers. How is it even a question?

They're being disgustingly domestic, so it's a good thing Sunjata takes the opportunity to flip them, making the Valkyrie squawk in surprise as the already tangled sheets suddenly meet her back. As he flops down onto her all her breath is squished out of her in a strangled whuff that turns her laughter into a croak of empty lungs instead. Cheeks pink with delight, her arms wrap as far as they can around his broad shoulders to idly coast her fingertips up and down his spine, content to wheeze-rattle with every breath if it means she's buried under him. 

"I am. And I wasn't going to let you sleep away while I had all the fun without you." Even if, yes, her idea of fun is exactly what he's thinking, which would probably be the equivalent of paint drying to anyone else. "C'monnnnn, you're wasting all the good sunraysssss," she cajoles, syllables wispy with little air to be found but plenty of drama to spare as she wriggles beneath him so he can't get too comfortable and fall back asleep. "We've gotta work on our tans early if we're going to turn heads in Torchline, right? Why not now?" Day one of spring is never too early right?

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

“I can find beaches when I want them.” Sunjata retorts a touch petulantly – because while the idea of her giving up snow in their homeland so that he could be free from it was charming, it wasn’t realistic. And he had chosen this space specifically because it harbored both of the elements they loved. The beaches weren’t as nice as Torchline, of course, but he still was able to go for a dip if the mood struck.

Instead, he twists them and flops down on her as he hears her strangled whuff that sparks a deep rumbling chuckle from him, paired by the very same through the attuned bond as he nestles in against her, sharing her warmth for the time while her hands dance along his spine and over tattoos and any lingering feathers as he starts to retract the partial shift.

Her wiggling is met with a groan of complaint, even as the sensation through the bond suggests anything else, and after a stubborn amount of seconds does the Flood actually start to move – reluctantly - his head popping up to peer at her a touch conspiratorily. “As if we don’t already turn heads, liefde.” He hums with a soft laugh, but acquiesces to her, slipping off the bed and finding a pair of shorts to slip on before he stretches out – letting all the muscles in his stomach and back flex and pull away the sleep still lingering in them. His fingers find his hair, fingercombing it into some semblance of a style (sleep tousled) before he’s turning to her to offer his hand, to help her up and soothe more of that craving of her touch before he turns to head toward their kitchen, popping on a kettle for hot water while he gets the coffee ready. “I think we have a pastry leftover from the Boondocks. Wanna share it for breakfast?” He calls out to her from down the hall.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

She tucks her argument into the side of her smile, fond and understanding. They are perhaps a little too selfless and prepared for compromise, but it's romantic in its own way to be so sensitive to each other's desires and difficulties. Instead she gracelessly plants a kiss against his hairline, huffing through his weight. Each wiggle and pry lets her breath for a quick moment - but she's happy to be here, crushed but content, drowning under skin and tattoos and sunlight. It's not the first time he's left her breathless; hah.

Making a sound like a compressed rubber chicken finally being freed, Hotaru rolls onto her side and plainly ogles her lover with the one eye not pressed into the mess of their blankets. Reaching for his hand automatically she climbs down from their bed with grace that belies her more awake state, pressing her face into his hands as they right her riot of hair. Only to grumble a noise of displeasure when he walks off without her. Trailing after him, she plucks one of his shirts from the basket and slips it on - eternally amused by how it hangs comically large, sexy and domestic - as she follows the sound of water and the light clank of metal.

Shoving her face into his spine, she loops her arms around his waist from behind (only just refraining from climbing him like a koala and making him carry her around while he makes breakfast). "Yes. I swear I'm going to crack that man someday, he will tell me his secrets," she vows with vitriol befitting a self-declared nemesis. Hotaru is no slouch in the kitchen, but whatever that baker does is literal fucking magic and she refuses to be hooked on whatever drug he's pretending to call a pastry.

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

A compressed rubber chicken is exactly what he thinks she sounds like the second he gives her the freedom she requested, and it’s hard for Sunjata to hide the laughter that threatens to rumble out of his chest as his hand is offered to help her out of bed, to cupping her face and smoothing out the tangle of golden strands. It’s a parting touch as he makes his way down the hallway toward their kitchen, putting on water to boil and to get the coffee ready.

He should know better than to assume she’d take too long to join him, evidenced by the way he sets the filter into the pour over glass and fills it with already ground coffee in anticipation for the water to boil. A snort slips from the Flood, hands dropping to her arms, running his calloused fingertips over the delicate bones of the back of her hand. “Oh,” he starts to say with a laugh, turning in her arms to flash her a crooked grin. “You know, as any good business owner, that you can’t just go around sharing all your secrets, no matter how pretty she is asking.” Flashing her a roguish wink, Sunjata chuckles lightly under his breath. “Maybe it really is a drug.” He suggests, playfully bouncing his scarred brows before reaching for where they’d stored the pastry, deftly (and well practiced), maneuvering around her while still keeping her pressed against him.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

He turns in her arms, disrupting her villainous monologuing and the vows of vengeance that she'd been muttering into his back. It ruins the aesthetic of the moment, but his grinning face and the smell of the coffee grounds awaiting water emanating from behind him is sufficient payment for that loss. Unable to resist grinning when she sees him doing it, Hotaru reaches past his hips to brace her hands on the edge of the counter to trap him between her arms - which is a comical sight given their statures - and does absolutely nothing to allow him greater movement as he retrieves the pastry so that he has to keep her close.

"I'm this close," she frees one hand to use her fingers to signify the hairs-breadth level she's referencing, "to asking magically instead of just prettily." Though it's just as fun to try and wear him down of her own accord, just to see if she's still got it.Eyeing the pastry immediately as soon as Sunjata retrieves it like a dog fixating on a bone, the Valkyrie mutters, "I'd be more surprised to find out it isn't drugs." Pressing a kiss to his sternum, Ru puts her hand on his hip this time if only to slide her fingertips just far enough to feel the warmth of his skin near his hip. "If I do find out it's drugs though, I'm going full drug lord and making him give us a cut. I'm not Archon so it'll all be above-board." And if their home suddenly becomes a lot fancier? Well, demigod perks can explain that away.

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

Barking out a laugh at the dramatics of it, Sunjata rolls his eyes a touch playfully, lips quirking into a smirk as he watches her formulate her plan and he continues to wait for the water to boil. “Liefde, where’s the fun in that?” He says, of her magically convincing, while he collects the pastry in question. “You’re underestimating the power of your seduction.” Bouncing his brows playfully and pinning her with a particularly roguish smirk and a wink, Sunjata snorts, shifting ever so slightly with how he stands so that her hand can press against the warmth of his body.

Her threat of making him give them a cut in a whole drug lord fashion has him chuckling again, slipping the pastry into a little metal container to make it easier to heat up as the water boils and he turns around, plucking the kettle up from the heat and swapping the pastry onto it as he starts to pour the water over the coffee, of course giving her back that position of her face pressing into his back.

“The less I know, the better.” Sunjata chimes, knowingly and playfully, letting the pour over bloom the coffee before he starts to pour more in, the scent of it wrapping around the both of them. “I am gonna say that adding drug lord to your reputation is honestly only going to make you hotter.” Twisting in her arms to wink to her, the next laugh that rumbles out of him is softer but just as playful.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA

HOTARU

she is a flower, but she isn't soft
when her petals fall, they hit like bullets

She clicks her tongue as if affronted, but he'll know she's conceding the point - especially when it's accompanied by a petty huff through her nose. "There is no fun, which is why he will continue to vex me until I break him," she mutters, though the corners of her lips twitch and betray her as he pins her with that dastardly smirk. As if she can possibly withstand it, much less focus on the idea of seducing another man when he's capturing her attention like this.

Shame, then, that he has to turn back around to continue making their breakfast. Preening at the same time as he turns over his shoulder ensures he plainly sees her egotistical pleasure at the prospect of somehow elevating her attractiveness. "I do miss having a title. Drug lord seems so tired though. Maybeee..." Ru dances her fingertips down the fronts of his thighs, cheek smushed into his spine as she luxuriates in the smell of the coffee beginning to fill the space as she considers her new title options. "Mmm, dunno. I lost it. Smells too good. My lieutenants can just call me Duchess - all the other feminine names have been ruined." By Phoebe and Maeve and the House of Midnight; Hotaru doesn't want to cross her figurative wires by having people call her Mistress in two locations."I'll get Flora in on it in a heartbeat. Every stay-at-home mom needs a hobby right?" Hotaru muffles her laughter into his back, amused by the fact that she really does consider something to the level of drug-peddling as a hobby - and equally amused by how quick and easy it would be to start if she really wanted to do it. She's still got it, even retired.

// and i hear your ship is comin' in, your tears a sea for me to swim in
and i hear a storm is comin' in, my dear, is it all we've ever been? //

He might not have the appearance changing ability she has, but he has all the roguish charm and the tattoos and scars to back it up (and a prior history of being Caido’s bike, but that’s beside the point). So he snorts and flashes her that smirk, even as he continues to make their breakfast, glancing back at her as he continues to pour the coffee, ensuring he gets the right amount of water within even if they have to wait an almost too long amount of time for it to finish dripping through the filters.

Of course, her fingertips taking the trail down the insides of his thighs have a slight shiver escaping him and he very nearly white knuckles the kettle he’s pouring from before he regains some semblance of composure, even as her beautiful voice purrs from where she keeps her face pressed against his back.

Taking a deep breath to settle himself and the heat that’s bloomed in his stomach, he clears his throat right after. “Countess has a particular ring to it…” He muses thoughtfully, before he finishes pouring the rest of the water in, the pastry still warming up as he discards the kettle somewhere else to free up his hands. Twisting in her hold once more, Sunjata pushes into her enough to back her up to where he can swoop in to pick her up, setting her on the counter behind them where he can fit neatly between her legs. “Maybe we could get the Devil’s Advocates back up and running and that can be your front.” He suggests with a laugh.

anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love. anchor up to me, love

SUNJATA