[RA] [SE] polished like precious stones

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

"Take your clothes off," Evie directs with a glint to her eyes and a fold of a dimple in one cheek that giggles even when her throat does not. Wiggling her fingers toward the bed only makes the innuendo stronger, but the basket of goodies on the bedside table won't let her get distracted even when she'd dearly like to be.

It's not easy to get her husband to relax, but sensuality and a moment of privacy in their own home is far more enticing - and logistically sensible - than vacations and getaways. Given all that has happened in the past few seasons the Evergreen is certain she'll have miles of knots to unwind once she gets her hands on his body. Not that she ever needs a reason to get her hands on Deimos, but this time there's intent behind what would otherwise be a direct come-on.

"And lay face down," she reminds, dimples deepening and lips curling as she gives in to the urge and finishes with, "if I can see your face while I'm working I won't be working for long."

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

Walking from corridor to corridor, after both Erebos and Amhran to sleep with yet another rendition of ‘The Littlest Luxere’ (with half a mind to find far more books), he hadn’t anticipated his wife’s command. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks, machinations going from mundane children’s literature to Evie within half a second. Head straightening, eyes widening, he snorted; already peeling the long-sleeved layer away from his chest and arms, smirk igniting and other adornments enticed. “Then why are yours still on-,” and in between the notions of simply striding over and taking hers off, maybe with his teeth, the rest of his capabilities fostered and clicked into place.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the bedside table; recognizing some filaments from the one and only massage he’d received from Ru – extending a long sigh when reality hit and more of her words registered.

He immediately contemplated skulking away and lurking elsewhere. Vulnerability, coupled with relaxation, forced or otherwise, was not one of his favored endeavors. Not eager to ever be readily compliant, his gaze darted to the door, wondering if he could escape. Or simply try another tactic.

Opting for the latter, he unbuttoned his pants slowly, granting his own smirk and hooded stare. “That does not bother me.”

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

The dimples that deepen in her freckled cheeks betray her before any form of flush can climb to join them, the immediacy of his acquiescence - and the rumble of his voice before he is distracted - heady no matter how many years go by. It's enough to convince her to a life of sobriety because surely she wouldn't miss the feeling, alcohol has no hope of achieving that sort of immediate buzz.

Alas, he is sharp as always and the reality of her request dawns in hedged trepidation on his face. Not nearly so handsome as the cut of his smirk, but perhaps she'll see it again tonight.

Crossing her arms in front of her chest to try and appear sterner than she feels, Evie's lips twitch as she smiles through an otherwise furrowed brow. "I'm very aware you're allergic to being pampered, but at least let me try before you distract me." As if her eyes aren't following his hands the moment they reach for his pants, fingertips pressing into her own bicep to remind herself that restraint matters, Evie. Best to back up a bit, put the bed between them until he's in position. Just to be closer to the oils and lotions, no other reason. And to force herself to look away for at least a moment.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

Deimos stopped at the last button; head tilting in that avian way, clearly trying to fixate and pinpoint on something he could snare, trap, and entice. A new game quickly conjured in his mind, and although he was hesitant to ever embark into pampering of any kind, he wondered just how quickly he could unravel Evie’s crafted catering. Make it an indulgence for both.

He gave the pretenses of an eye roll, playing a part. “Fine,” he huffed, watching her eyes as they shifted away from him. It made him ever bolder, until his fingers roamed over the finality of his pants, stripping them off and tossing them aside; leaving only his boxers as a sign of impudence and impertinence.

Before unceremoniously dropping onto the bed, face down, but head already turned back towards her, watching her every move, predacious and conniving. “Commence the torture.”

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

It’s terrible torture to keep her eyes fixated on the bottles as she aimlessly straightens them when she can clearly hear the fall of his clothes. But she knows her husband well enough to assume some manner of mischief, retaliation, or obstruction awaits, and she can’t risk weakness in her defenses this early on. Massaging her husband shouldn’t feel like orchestrating a game of chess but, well, they have a unique relationship. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

Her laugh as he lands in a flop peters into a cough, trying to recover her visage of exasperation without success. “I’m glad you consent to the torture, I’ll make note of that.” Ensuring the basket will remain in reach, Evie slips onto the bed to straddle Deimos’ lower back and carefully moves his hair out of the way. “Will it be more or less torturous to talk as I work?” With his head turned he’ll see her cheeky grin as she leans over to grab the oil to start; lightly fir scented and meant for massage. Evie had ensured they sat in the fire-warmed room beforehand to not be cold on the skin, but she pumps it into her palms just to be safe before she lightly spreads it over the span of Deimos’ shoulders and nape. Light sweeps of her palms at a neutral pressure to encourage him to relax and anticipate the path she’ll follow as she begins to massage deeper.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

They were both distractions to one another, and intimately familiar with the games they played. Deimos considered letting her have her fun and antics for sparse moments, all the while building ramparts of mischief and tension. Her laugh was encouraging enough, and his gaze followed her, until she was no longer by his side, but straddling over his back.

It would be very opportunistic of him to simply roll over instantly, but far too easy. So he’d lull, entice, and perhaps get some enjoyment out of the impending massage, as much as he wouldn’t want to admit in the latter. Reputations of stoicism were at stake.

He could spot the cheeky grin and permitted another to match, and then sunk his head further into the mattress and bedspread, conforming to nothing more than a vague grunt as she began her ministrations. The aroma of pine filled his senses, and his eyes closed, trying to lower all of the guards, the walls, as she pressed against his likely very knotted muscles, scores of tension through shoulder and spine. “Depends. Do you have some good gossip?” He probably had some to share.

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

Reputations of stoicism indeed, as if these halls and eaves have not recorded years of nonsense, tomfoolery, and vulnerability alike. Still, though she wishes he’d never found true need in the presence of his walls, it’s an honor to slip past them even when it takes a little time and effort. She doesn’t expect a door, but she is grateful for every minute faster she can manage to slip between the cracks. Though speed isn’t the key physically given the task at hand, and today is more about pressing a metaphorical bruise to help him build up resistance - as silly as that sounds when paired against ideals such as being spoiled or indulged. Evie has to bite her lip to stifle a giggle when her traitorous brain wonders would it help if we called it training?

Knotted is an understatement, but she doesn’t intend to travel down his back until they’ve been coaxed, bribed, or perhaps even wrestled into submission. Though she does let her magic seep through her fingertips to help ease the way, always a little punch-drunk over the fact it works on him now after so many years of not. Her hands work diligently at his nape and top vertebrae as she hums thoughtfully. “Not much, toddlers aren’t the best conversationalists and Alys and I kept our visit lighthearted.” Though she’d enjoyed it immensely even so. “I’m slowly earning entry to the gossip of the produce corner in the market though! Only marital drama for now however.” Which she’ll certainly share if he’s keen on it. It’s a strange hard-won game, incorporating herself into the civilian areas of their home and earning something seemingly arbitrary like trust with secrets and gossip. But it’s nice to earn it and to be seen as Evie and not as their Warden-now-Advisor. “Do you have any to share?”

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

Probably, but the likelihood of the Sword being indulgent didn’t sound like the sort of training he’d correspond to. She’d have to somehow finagle and wrangle him ten times over, and the game would be afoot once again; a rinse and repeat of avoidance coupled with humor. But he didn’t want her to think him ungrateful or unappreciative; and as his mind was lulled in and out of machinations contorted into mischief, he’d find a way to manifest his thankfulness.

At the moment, however, her ministrations had already begun to lure and entice him into an assuaged state; the respite of warm healing measures intertwined with careful succor relieved a multitude of knotted and gnarled fixtures through his spine – a quiet, long breath filtered out of him as she started on his neck, beginning on a deep, rumbling laugh as she described noteworthy conversations. “Erebos does seem to always have something to say.” Whether or not they understood the meanings and gestures was another thing.

Mentions of Alys lent his mind to the recent events upon the Tundra, and likely why he’d need hordes more massages over the coming seasons. Another sigh whittled through, and his eyes flicked open again, watching her from the corner of their piercing set. “Only from the misadventures of the Tundra group,” and then he grimaced,  nose beginning to wrinkle, trying to forge around the conversations of the Family – quite tired of them looming in the background. If Evie wanted more than just the bare bones, he’d certainly describe it, but she’d likely been granted enough. “Sunjata wanted to trade with our resources.” Of which he’d been shocked, but wasn’t about to pass up. “As for the nonpolitical,” and far happier notations, “Kiada and Fox have settled on a date for the wedding.”

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

It's not yet the guttural sounds of appreciation and indulgence that a good massage inspires, but his long exhale and warm laugh is the next best thing, and Evie's smile is warm and lovesick as she looks down upon him while taking it in. This is as much a gift to her as she hopes for it to be for him.

The Tundra events are not the sort she wants to discuss here and now, lest he knot himself back up faster than she can massage them out. Sunjata is equally a questionable topic - though one that seems to improve slowly, begrudgingly, with time and good behavior - so it's with no small amount of relief mixed in that she reacts excitedly to the wedding news. "Finally! What have they decided? When is just the first step, too." Evie is dying to know the details; where, what color scheme, apparel styles, traditions? Weddings were never a grand affair in the Grounds (most things were rather dour, though understandably so) but a romance-obsessed bookworm-adjacent person like Evie wouldn't be dissuaded by something like that. Still, Caido weddings could stand to be grander in her eyes. 

"Though I'm glad to hear Sunjata is interested in trading, weddings are far more exciting to discuss." She chortles under her breath as her hands maneuver lower to begin tracing the curves of his shoulder blades and topmost ribs, magic and oil still steadily flowing.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

The ministrations worked at knots and gnarls and unyielding portions; so much so that eventually he forgot what sort of game he’d been concocting and simply unleashed another long breath and some immodest groan from somewhere in his ribs. Sinking lower into the bed, slightly boneless as the walls and fortresses, ramparts and partitions, were forgotten amid healing and devoted provisions, his eyes closed again, content that Evie knew better than to pick at the Tundra wounds.

Kiada and Fox’s next set of motivations were easier to recall; and he could concoct it from memories rather than snag at machinations. As her hands unwound he preened not unlike an overly large cat; a deep rumble exuding from his lungs. “Beginning of Flowerbirth.” Which meant they’d have something to look forward to, coming out of LongNight and the latest round of ridiculous nonsense. “In the Temple,” he waited for her reaction to that – since such a place harbored many a wound, blight, and event all in one. Redone and reworked since their time in the Grounds, but not without hostile and fractured memories. “I asked about colors too,” figuring those like her and Ru would be ready to bask in the hues. “Seem to be matching a plant called a smolder bloom.”

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

His groan lends to more indecent thoughts, but for now her pleased grin is enough for her own physical satisfaction. Though she likely could have achieved similar results without magic it will never cease to delight her to be able to use it on him now. Adding magic merely serves the additional benefit of hastening the results of the massage for the Sword.

Her hands move further down his back to ease the muscles protecting his lower ribs and middle spine as he conveys further information. As he may have expected - and had been thinking himself, unknown to her - Evie brightens at the prospect of such an uplifting event being timed for directly after LongNight. "That's great timing, though I didn't expect the Temple as their location of choice." She isn't certain how religiously inclined either are, but she must adjust her own opinions. Not everyone has the associations with the Temple that she does - she assume few others do in truth given how few Natural Grounders remain at all, much less in their native region. "However I'm not surprised by the color scheme," she laughs fondly. Ancients or not, they strike her as the red-hued types.

Her hands move lower to her husband's lumbar region, already bemoaning the passage of time. She'll make sure to get his arms and hands, but the clock is ticking on his mischief meter, she's sure of it.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

Muscles unfurled, unleashed from their snarled, twisted, and coiled from their taut and strained portions from months and seasons of compacted trepidation and use. It was noteworthy to feel them yield from spine to ribs, causing another long breath to ease from his lungs. Her magic did wonders too – for there’d been years where he only felt Zuriel’s healing motions and nothing else – different hues and vibrations easing through each layer of skin and meandering into ichor. Aware what his moans and groans could signify and still immersed in the bewitching fog, he nodded at the indication. “It has been altered significantly,” the Temple anyway – reworked and refurnished from the cold place where clusters of individuals fought for their lives and to keep doors closed. Color schemes weren’t surprising either; very on the nose. “But feasible,” he mused, nose wrinkling in its juvenile, boyish haze.

And she’d be correct that concoctions were in the works – for as she lowered her hands to maneuver down the scarred lines on his back, he was casually moving one of his legs towards her – an impending situation soon at hand. But rather than leave all of that to chance and opportunity, he utilized more distracting, and still necessary, tactics. “I think we should upgrade the region itself this season,” by way of another deep sigh. “In case we have other assaults coming our way.”

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life

Evie

Come rest your bones next to me
And toss all your thoughts out to the sea

Evie makes a doubtful noise, though she’s aware enough of her own grudges against the Grounds to keep it fittingly brief. It would be heretical - even as an Abandoned - to wish for it to be torn down entirely and forgotten to time, but she can’t deny a small part of her does wish it even so. “Hopefully fewer uncomfortable pews and stuffy silences, that’s not the sort of background I’d envision for a couple like them,” she snorts, lips quirked whether Deimos can see it or not. He looks mildly melted into the bed, but so long as he’s not suffocating himself Evie doesn’t see fit to intervene. 

Her eyes narrow as his leg moves, immediately suspicious. Alas, her husband knows her well, and her attention is adequately hooked by the question he poses. “It’s good Sunjata wants to trade, but for now I agree that’s best. Until we know what we’d even want out of an exchange.” How to utilize it, what they might offer in return, all sorts of red tape and consulting with the citizens to ascertain their desires. 

As her hands move to massage at the small of his back, wrapping around to coax tension from his hips as well, Evie takes the bait of envisioning outcomes instead of keeping a close eye on her wily husband.

I'll pull up each of our anchors
So we can get lost, you and me

DEIMOS

the fire can't touch me
for I have burned too many times

“More fire, brimstone, and a chaotic sort of energy,” he supplied in return, still casually and slowly sliding his leg further along. If she caught wind of it, he wouldn’t be surprised – Evie had known him long enough to surmise some sort of siege was building and pending – so he kept her distracted with discourse. Even as her hands went towards his hips. “From what I understood, he still needed to gather the materials anyway. Unicorn shavings – supposedly can imbue an item with healing magic.” And while they had some wonderful menders and tenders, including the Evergreen, even more accompaniment within an item, and not putting others at risk, would help a great deal (especially given everything else going on).

By that interim, he thought he had his opportunity; finagling angles just enough to snag his limb near hers, and consequently opted to try and flip the scenario – hopefully with the Evergreen suddenly folding back into the mattress. “This has been very nice,” he murmured, beginning to smirk. "I could you show my appreciation."

the sea can't harm me
for I have been drowning all my life