[SE] [Training] My strange addiction

Thalassa

With Longheat in full swing, the Climb is nearly insufferable to most people, a blistering heat that immediately bathes them in sweat and the overwhelming pressure of heat. Thal is one of the lovely people who isn't the least bit effected, flicking her blade casually as she looks over the expanse of rock islands amongst the thick river of molten rock. She only pauses when she spots a familiar face approaching, the ash catching on her black clothes as she spreads her arms in a dramatic greeting. "Welcome to the Climb. Glad you made it without falling into a river of lava." She grins at Vesper, stepping over a small section of the glowing red river as she closes the distance between them. 

Her eyes scan for any signs of his previous injuries, specifically his breathing and ease of movement around his ribs. The crashing ocean of her mind may have a pretty purple hue to it now, along with a few sharp additions, but she still doesn't like the idea of being the reason for any lingering wounds, and she gives him an accusing raise of her eyebrow. "Are you sure you're up for this? I'd hate to take advantage of you." The smirk on her face suggests otherwise, although he knows that she prefers quite the opposite. Regardless, she doesn't want to fight someone who's not at the top of their game, and the stubborn cross of her arms says as much.

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

The Climb is a fucking oven.

Every breath Vesper takes feels like it’s being sifted through charcoal and regret, sweat running rivers down the back of his neck to soak into the collar of his already half-unbuttoned shirt. Ash clings to the fabric like a jealous lover, and the soles of his boots stick slightly to the black-glassed stone as he picks his way across the seared land of Angel’s End. Shadow magic keeps his boots from melting straight through the crust, but barely. The volcanic wind tousles his damp curls and smears soot across his jaw.

And still, he grins when he sees her.

Her mind hits first—thirsty, hungry, all ocean-roar and serrated bloom, threaded now with sharp violet teeth and a sticky kind of hum that crawls across his senses like salt through an open wound. The colour of her thoughts has changed. It’s still Thal—but there’s something more now, something void-touched and buzzing at the edges like static in his teeth.

He doesn't flinch. Doesn’t falter. Just lets it settle against him as his boots click soft across the stone.

"Please," he drawls, sweat dripping off his temple as he reaches her, eyes gleaming with dry amusement. "If you think you’re takin’ advantage of me, I’ve been doin’ somethin’ wrong."

Her eyes flick toward his ribs, and even without her saying it, he catches the ghost of a worry behind the jab. He rolls a shoulder lazily and drawls, "Fountain in Torchline patched me up. Nothin’ left but ego." Which might yet get bruised, only time would tell.


Vesper rolls his shoulder, shadows tightening just faintly around his spine like the draw of a bowstring. "I have a feelin' you've a mind to send my ass right back into said fountain after this." His voice is light, teasing. But the watchfulness behind his eyes is unmistakable. He sees it, what has consumed her with blossoms the colour of a bruised sunset. He always does.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

Her eyes find nothing wrong with Vesper. No winces, no injuries, and no hard feelings; although she does see a lot of sweat, and Thal smiles a little at his discomfort. Big bad demigod can't handle the heat very well. 

The playful tilt of her head releases the hold she'd had on any guilt or worry as she closes more of the distance between them. Her ocean eyes shift up to meet his, pleased to leave the negative emotions behind in favor of the excitement ahead. "Good." It means she won't have to hold back.

Grinning, she imagines him having to take a nice, long soak in the fountain when they're through. Depending on how things go, she wouldn't mind keeping him company, the small smirk on her lips giving her away even if her sharp purple thoughts hadn't already. "Maybe. And if you're nice about it, I might just let you keep the hair on your head." She lifts a hand, fire raising at the flicker of her mind to hover above her fingertips. Lazy with ease, she lets her gaze run over them to watch the flames dance and twist through her fingers like ribbons that she might like to tie around him. 

When her eyes find his again, they're just as teasing as usual, the glow of her fire giving them a purple hue, her fangs peeking from her grin. "Take your best shot."

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

The threat makes him chuckle—a low, knowing sound that slips like smoke between them as the firelight flickers in her hand. "Aw, but you like my hair," he says, dragging a hand through it for emphasis, damp curls sticking to his fingers like ash and sin. "Unless last time you were really were tryin' to tug it out when you had your fingers runnin'' through it." His voice is still lazy, still lined with humour, but there’s a heat to it now that has nothing to do with the Climb.

Because he remembers what it’s like when she’s close. Remembers how she bites and pulls and burns in all the best places. Only now something else hums through her mind—some sharp-toothed thing vibrating beneath the surface of her thoughts—and it makes him want to keep his distance. He doesn’t name it though. Doesn’t ask, doesn’t pry, just watches it bloom behind her grin like a secret garden gone a little wild.

His own grin curls slow, a little crooked. "Wouldn’t dream of startin’ with anything less than my best," he drawls, shifting his weight and letting his shadows flick out from his heels, tasting the air like they’ve missed this too. He gives her a look—sharp, inviting, and thoroughly unrepentant—and adds with a smirk, "We both know you like it better when you make me work for it."

Then he moves. Not charging, not reckless. Just fast enough to test her reflexes, launching a shadowy strike for her shoulder—darkness balled up into a fist—and then melting back.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

It's crazy how that smokey chuckle has such an effect on her, his words immediately reminding her of how it feels to be twisted around him. She would certainly miss running her hands through his hair as he pleasures her in the many ways he's shown her so far; but Thal doesn't back down, and she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, the glint of playful threat still in her eyes. "I think I can find something else to grab onto while it grows back." 

Her eyes follow his shadows lazily, wondering where he might strike first as she keeps her flames at the ready. Despite his words, it feels like he starts off too simple, too predictable. She barely dodges the punch to prove a point, graceful as a dancer as she slips to his side. There's a light laugh on her simmering smile, her low voice curling towards him like a trailing finger. "Mm, but doesn't it feel better when you earn it?" While he's distracted with the heat in her eyes and the seduction on her lips, Thal darts to his other side, tightening her flame covered hand into a fist as she shoots for his gut. Vesper may be starting slow, but she never doesn't anything halfway.

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

"Mm," Vesper hums in answer, noncommittal and dry. Feels better is a hell of a phrase—more like feels earned, and even then only because the satisfaction pouring off Thalassa tends to taste better than the bruises are worth. But he doesn't say that. Just gives her a look, all shadowed eyes and crooked grin, and lets her own smugness stretch the moment thin.

Then the fire hits.

Her fist sinks in just above his hip—burning, fast, hard enough to rattle his ribs. The air leaves him in a sharp grunt, pain crackling up his side like dry grass catching flame. But there’s no retreat. Just a flash of teeth and a breathy, laughing snarl that cuts through the heat between them. "Fuckin’ hell, darlin’," he rasps. "Buy a guy a drink first."

And then he’s gone.

Misty-step whisks him out of her immediate reach in a flicker of shadow and heat-distorted air, reappearing behind her with no warning but the curl of intent sharpening in his mind. Shadows lance out to wrap her ankles—not tight, not cruel, but enough to disrupt her balance—and Vesper drives his shoulder forward, low and sudden, aiming to knock her clean off her feet.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

With his level of cockiness, Thal is actually surprised when her punch lands. She only lets the fire burn for a second, letting it wink out with a breath as he grunts. There's a thrill of satisfaction at having landed such a brutal shot, but she's still relieved to hear his breathy laugh, her own mixing with his as she moves to step out of his range. 

"I don't recall you buying me-" Before she can finish the tease, he's at her back toppling her over his shadows like a trip wire. It happens so fast that she might have thought she was tripping over her own feet if she didn't recognize the unnaturally darkness as her feet. A sharp intake of breath is the only sign of having been caught off guard. 

Rather than fight the fall, she tucks into a roll, the ash puffing around her in a cloud that tickles her nose. Clamping down on the urge to sneeze, Thal darts forward in a crouch to sweep a kick at his legs.

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

Vesper watches her roll with the kind of keen satisfaction that flickers behind his eyes like a slow burn. Ash bursts in a little cloud as she hits the ground and he sidesteps fast, boots scraping against the glassy crust of cooled lava. "Graceful," he murmurs, almost admiring, like the tumble was choreographed for his entertainment.
But he doesn't have long to gloat.

Her leg scythes out low and fast, all instinct and ferocity, and his shadow barely has time to whisper a warning before it connects.

It’s not clean—he shifts just enough that her kick clips his calf instead of sweeping both feet—but it’s enough to jar his balance. Vesper stumbles a step back, teeth bared in a hiss, catching himself with one hand on the blister-warm rock beside him. His breath hitches, sharp with impact, then steadies as he straightens and flicks ash from his shirt with exaggerated calm.

"Alright then," he says, voice rough but lazy as ever, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Guess we’re not flirtin’ anymore."

His shadows coil like snakes at his heels, tension winding back through his limbs as he braces again. "Y’know, if I win this round, I’m keepin’ that smug little smirk of yours in a jar." And then, with a quick burst of movement, he lunges—not misty-step this time, but sheer speed—feinting a punch before twisting low to try and sweep her legs from under her again with a sharper burst of shadow laced across the ground like a whip.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

Her boot makes contact with his calf, and she watches as he stumbles, earning a nice sear on his hand. She may have seen him take worse in the Feverlands, but it's a wonder that he doesn't pause to wrap his hand, or even glance to check on the injury. The calm, cool demeanor is so at odds with the heat that it sends a shiver down her spine. She's done it now - and she has no regrets. Her smile is wickedly sweet, a smoldering flame as her voice carries over the ashen ground. "This is flirting." It's a dangerous dance of sharp words and violent movements. What is there not to love?

Thal's eyes never leave him, tracking, assessing, appreciating. His threat makes her 'smug little smirk' widen, her stance relaxed even as she preps for his next attack. "As long as it's filled with my favorite Halovian whiskey." And she might have commented on her own possible prize if he wasn't suddenly rushing forward. 

She shouldn't be as susceptible to feints - what with how dirty pirates fight - but she's a little distracted at the moment, and she moves to dodge the punch, stepping right into his trap. His shadows hit her shins and her balance abandons her. A small curse slips through as her arms move to brace for a fall. 

Lucky for her, Vesper is close enough to grab, and she reaches for his shoulders, practically tumbling into him. She holds fast to blance herself, her mind already rushing through options and strategies. He's close enough to kiss, her quick breath mixing with his as she leans closer, her voice a coy whisper between them,  her fanged grin sharper than any dagger. "See? Flirting."

Then she's gone again, darting behind him so she can kick a foot against the back of his knees.

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

The whisper of her thoughts claws through him like sulphur on silk—too sharp, too loud, too wrong. Vesper’s breath catches not from her proximity but from the violet haze bleeding off her mind, void-laced and cloying, thick with heat and venom and something else, something that wants to bloom where it shouldn’t. He doesn’t recoil—not physically—but his senses snap taut like a bowstring. Whatever is blooming in her isn’t just hunger or thrill or pain. It’s hollow, and gods help him, it makes him want to run.

Her arms are around his shoulders and she’s pressed up against him, all grinning lips and heat and breath like smoke in his mouth. He holds her—not tightly, not possessively, but instinctively—enough to keep her from hitting the ground, or maybe just enough to keep her from slipping entirely out of reach. Only she does anyway.

Vesper doesn’t curse, but the grunt that leaves him is not pleasant as her foot hits the back of his knees. His legs fold against his will, and he twists as he goes, trying to take her down with him in the same motion—shadows snaking to try and catch her waist, one arm flailing out to brace against the obsidian crust for support.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

Something shifts. Thal can't tell what, not when she's moving through the spar like a wraith set on vengeance. Each action is fluid, calculating, teasing in the same seductive way that poison smells sweet. But she still feels something - a distance, a dampening of heat, a chill. 

It only catches up to her as Vesper twists towards the ground. The briefest of confusion is a distraction, and she's pulled down with him, her arms pushing forward to brace like it might also catch the cascade of thoughts. Neither works, and the breath knocks from her lungs as she hits the solid ground, her mind momentarily stunned. Despite the stilling of the rippling purple ocean of her mind, Thal's body moves on instinct alone, years of pure stubborn refusal of being vulnerable pushing her body into familiar muscle memory. She grapples with Vesper, slippery as an eel as she attempts to find the upper hand, her mind still trying to find a grip on what exactly had changed.

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

Vesper doesn’t press the advantage. Doesn’t pin her. Doesn’t gloat. The second they hit the ground and her breath rushes out of her in a hiss, he rolls clean off and back to his feet in one fluid movement. His shadows sluice off her like water, pulling close to his ribs and ankles again as he brushes soot and heat from his palms with an air of idle boredom. Only his eyes betray him—locked on her, calculating, wary.

The purple haze in her thoughts is thicker now, the sea of it crashing against the edges of his magic like waves trying to drag him under. He feels it in the back of his skull, like static and hunger and something rotten underneath. He doesn’t recoil—but the space he puts between them is deliberate. Not cowardice. Just caution.

"You must’ve been out playin’ with someone else lately," he drawls, voice deceptively casual as he flicks his gaze down and back up her body, sharp as a scalpel but wreathed in the lazy lilt of amusement. "You’re slower than I remember." A smirk curves his mouth, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Not when they’re watching her this closely.

He kicks a loose bit of glassy ash with the toe of his boot, sending it skittering across the rock. "Hope they were worth it, at least." If she interprets it as jealousy, the demigod is fine with that. Maybe if she does she'll elaborate on just where and who it was who'd drenched her mind with so many rotting teeth.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Thalassa

What she thinks is a final moment to pin and secure the victory for one of them is suddenly not. He's gone in a breath, leaving Thal to sit on the ashen ground like a discarded wrapper, slightly rumpled and very much alone. She has to blink to clear the confusion from her face, schooling it back to the calm, collected expression she's practiced a million times - not that it hides the sudden pain that hits her as she takes in his hovering form. 

Despite the teasing tone, Thal sees the distance Vesper holds, feels the coldness in his gaze, watches how he assesses her. It's like liquid nitrogen searing away at something in her chest - so cold it's burning. She doesn't know what changed, doesn't think she's changed enough to elicit such a response - and she certainly doesn't think she deserves to be judged. Biting back a sneer, her eyes narrow as the anger rises to disguise the distinct feeling of rejection and dismissal that reels through her at his words.

Thal doesn't take the bait, but that doesn't mean she can hide where her mind roams, how it rises immediately to who 'they' are. Vesper will easily recognize Pierce's image, flashes of pain, heat, and pleasure filling the recent memory with an intensity that ripples through her violet thoughts. There's no regret tainting the moment, even as something bitter and sharp laces her words, accusing. "I didn't realize you'd care." Rising from the ground, she brushes her hands down her body to remove what ash she can. It isn't very successful, the gray powder smearing along the black fabrics like a stain that she might never remove on her heart. At least she can pretend to be nonchalant as she gathers her own shields and ammunition.

Guess I got caught in the middle of it

Yes I've been taught, got a little of it

In my blood, in my blood

VESPER

Vesper feels it the moment her mind shifts—like a bruise touched too hard. The violet in her thoughts darkens, coiling tighter, thrashing once before curling in around something he recognizes. Pain. Anger. A flicker of digust. And behind it all, a memory sharp enough to cut. Pierce.

His jaw ticks, just once. The taste of it—of him—sticks bitter at the back of his throat. He doesn’t need the details. He doesn’t want them. Not when he can already feel the heat and pleasure tangled around something so wrong it leaves his shadows restless against his skin.

"Doubt you know me well enough to know what I would or wouldn't care about," he says finally, too dry to be kind and too even to be cruel. His voice stays light as smoke, but it lands with weight all the same. "And clearly I don't know you, either." Despite how broken Vesper's moral compass was, even it wouldn't guide a member of the Family between his thighs.

He doesn’t look at her as he speaks. Doesn’t let his stare burn into hers the way it could, the way it used to before magenta had soiled all the parts of her he'd once found so enticing. Instead, he pulls a sprig of peppermint bark from the pocket of his coat, unhurried, letting the silence stretch as he slides it past his teeth, the cool sweetness biting through the ash in the air.

Push, shove, a little bruised and battered
oh lord, I ain't coming home with you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!