Training Bang Your Head
Locke~
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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#1
One slip of the tongue, Razor sharp, but never let it show
It's one of those Longheat days where nothing moves, the heat too oppressive. The sun sits high overhead, blinding in its glory, in its smug attempt to creep across the sky as slowly as possible, and the air is heavy with humidity and the droning calls of bugs. Most sane people are hiding away inside, waiting for the cool relief of evening, or even better, night.

Nate is not one of those people. He'd made his way to the base of Aumakua's cliffs early in the morning, the heat not bothering him, and the sun a welcome irritation for his mood. He'd shucked his clothes, standing barefoot in the burning sand with only a pair of shorts stolen from his husband, and started shadow boxing. It's still close enough to home that his paranoia sites quiet in the back of his mind, but he needs to move, needs to do something, needs to work out this awful tension.

So... shadowboxing, at least as much as he can with the sun refusing to cast any shadows from its lofty seat. It's hard to tell how long he's been there, no telltale redness kissing his shoulders, though there is a smattering of pale blisters lifting, their stinging irritation evident in the way he keeps rolling his shoulders.

He seems in the zone, but any sound will have him whipping around, suspicious eyes searching for the interruption.
NATE
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
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#2
LOCKE

Nate isn't the only one up early. That said, Locke is always up early. Sleep is for the weak. Although he has kind of learned to nap in the sun while in his jaguar form. He's been spending his mornings trying to figure out how his jaguar form works. That's how he's here, even if he's currently human. He had seen someone further down the beach and he's not going to sneak up on someone as a jaguar. Yet. Nate's also not the only one wearing as little clothing as possible. But then again, it's Longheat and Locke hasn't worn more clothes than necessary the whole season.

As he draws closer, he realizes who, exactly, it is. "Nate~" He practically purrs the other man's name as he comes up behind him, stopping a few feet away. He notices the blisters, all the interesting things he didn't get to see the other few times they've been in the same space. "You're not going to explode, are you? Being in the sun?" He's not very tactful, is he? He's genuinely worried though. Plus, he hasn't gotten a chance to talk to Nate about the whole.. Wren Society thing.
I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#3
One slip of the tongue, Razor sharp, but never let it show
Nate turns faster than he means, a flash of vicious anger on his features visible for a moment before its replaced by a grin, complete with a flash of Nate’s tongue across his bottom lip. “Locke.” The words come out in a sweet warm purr, rolling his shoulders back and stepping closer while he speaks. “It’s been too long.” He laughs, a fondness sitting behind the tease.

A contemplative frown crosses Nate’s face at the concern. He stays quiet, though Locke will be able to see his flexing various muscles along his shoulders. “Nope.” Nate says matter of factly, arms coming up in a stretch. “I got some time in me still.” Arms drop again, a finger gesturing to Locke’ hands while his head cocks. “What happened there?
NATE
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
Played by: Zombeikid Offline
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MP: 630
#4
LOCKE

He doesn't miss the way Nate reacts but he's not going to comment on it. He chalks it up to the fires because he doesn't have any other reason not to. He does return Nate's grin though, stepping just a bit closer. "It has. Did you have fun riding a chicken or whatever it was?" He'd heard so many stories about it at this point that he has no idea what's true and what's not.

Locke watches Nate shrug off the sun and he shrugs back. Fine, if he doesn't care than neither will Locke. The question makes him look down at his own hands before he holds them out to show Nate properly. They've healed, poorly but still. It's clear that it was an amateur who bandaged them up, or it probably would be to Nate. He's got most of the feeling and most of his dexterity back but a few nerves were severed and the scars in some places are thick enough to make it harder to use his hands. Not that he really notices anymore.

"Sorry about your window.. Had to break one of them. Well, I thought I had to break one of them." He's not a think things out in the moment kind of guy.
I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#5
One slip of the tongue, Razor sharp, but never let it show
A disbelieving sound snorts out of Nate, his eyes rolling. “Fuck, everyone’s fuckin’ heard about that now, huh?” both palms lift to press against his eyes, Nate groaning. “Yea, it’s was fine. I was trying to keep the bitch from destroying more shit.” If this sticks, hes going to lose it. No one remembers him saving half the fucking city with quick thinking and stolen magic, but the chicken. That sticks.

Fucking okay.

As soon as Lockes hands are offered Nate snatches them by the wrists, dragging them closer to his face as he steps in. “Fuuuuuuuck, sweetheart.” He winced in sympathy, his thumbs rubbing warm circles into thick scars. “You take care of this yourself?” A brow lifts, Nates bright gaze lifting to Locke’s face, unblinking and intense.

Don’t apologize.” Nates voice has dropped into something warm, and tinged with regret. “I appreciate the attempt, Locke.” The words are heavy with sincerity, one of Nate’s hands lifting to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it just a little bit too tightly.
NATE
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
Played by: Zombeikid Offline
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MP: 630
#6
LOCKE

"Sorry Babes, you're the chicken king or something now.. Would make a cock joke but I heard it was a hen." Sorry Nate but your annoyance is amusing and Locke is going to take advantage of it. "Sad it didn't die though. Kind of getting tired of fish lately" He says that as if he can't get other meats. The thought of eating a giant chicken is enticing though.

Locke has to take a step forward as Nate tugs his hands up to look at them. The 'sweetheart' will never not get him. He's still not entirely sure what to make of Nate but his cheeks are flushed from more than the heat. "Nah. My lady did it. She's still learning though. And, honestly, didn't know where you were and it wasn't super high on my list of things to worry about." He wiggles his fingers to show Nate that they still work.

"That's what everyone keeps tellin' me. The Voice showed up.. Don't know if anyone told you. Everyone seems to be more preoccupied with the Slagveld. Think she put that out too though." He's about to shrug when Nate's hand finds his shoulder. Something about it reminds him of hospital cots and he tenses up for half a second before forcing himself to relax again.

"How are you doin'? How's the Wren Society doin'? I'd be happy to help ya fix it up.."
I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#7
One slip of the tongue, Razor sharp, but never let it show
The deep huff that growls out of Nate speaks of something deeper than mere irritation, something he is fighting with every ounce of his willpower. “Fuckin’ rather a cock joke.” He mumbles darkly, sucking in a deep breath. “She left behind eggs at least. Someone’s had to have cracked into one of them.

A near disbelieving sound rushes out of Nate, his head shaking again. “You should send your lady my way, I’ll show her how to treat a man.” The joking grin dies on his face though, growing suddenly haunted, just as Nate’s eye does. “Fuck. I uh... I’m sorry.” He should have been around, should have fucking spearheaded the responses, should have been there to patch people up afterwards if nothing else.

The Society is about the only thing that could distract him from his spiral, because he hasn’t heard much about it at all still. “No, no one told me. Shit.” A low whistle leaves Nate, his fingers tapping at Locke’s shoulder while he digests the Voice’s intervention, let’s it soothe him just a little. He even manages to crack something that seems like a real smile when Locke offers his help. “Look at the kiss ass.” The ascended teases, patting the other man’s face playfully before leaning back. “I’ll let you know when it happens, yea? We’re still uh... y’know, dealing with a lot.

A pink tongue pokes out of his mouth for a moment, the corners of Nate’s smile tugging up. “I know you must be more interested in the Slagveld anyway.” He accuses, his shoulders and his head both shifting back. “Sunny told me you two sparred.
NATE
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
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Posts: 831 | Total: 848
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#8
LOCKE

"Honestly can't think of a good one that isn't like.. Too vulgar." You can figure that out for yourself Nate! But he lets the topic drop because it's making the Lone Ranger nice and broody. Which, while cute, is not his goal.

The suggestion makes him snort, shaking his head."Dunno if you two would get along." He knows they wouldn't! He's not sure what Nate knows or if Nate needs to know. Some part of it makes whatever they are feel almost like.. Revenge but that's no one's business. Because it really isn't that way. "Don't worry about it. You were tied up in stuff, couldn't have known that was going to happen. Just glad no one got hurt. Or killed, at least." He knows vaguely about the whole Atlas thing but that's about all he knows.

"Yeah, was kinda cool." The drumming on his shoulder is interesting but doesn't go further than that and he can't say he's not relieved. Nate is a little overwhelming sometimes. If Sunjata is the Flood, then Nate is the wave that follows. But the other's grin is returned, "Kissing ass is like my second favorite thing to do." Again, make of that what you will. "No worries. I don't really do much anyway. Lay on the beach and look sexy, it's my gift to Torchline."

Locke's head tilts, watching Nate's tongue before his eyes snap back up to the other's. "Oh? What makes you say that?" It's almost accusatory, maybe a little confused, a little hurt. Wasn't he at the Wren Society? Didn't he fuck his hands over for that? His jaw tenses a few times before he wills himself to relax. "We did. He showed me his dragon shift too. Pretty cool. So much so I got one for myself. Not.. You know, a dragon. But still." Maybe if Nate asks nicely, he'll let him see.
I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#9
One slip of the tongue, Razor sharp, but never let it show
Locke’s reaction pulls a matching snort from Nate, a clearly offended slant to his features now. “Sure we would. Bitches love me baby!” Though, if he actually knew who Locke’s ‘lady’ was, he wouldn’t be so quick to offer or to argue. He knows well enough to leave that bit of land undisturbed.

People got hurt.” Nate says sharply, his brows furrowing with the correction. “You got hurt. Aurelia did too.” It was a big deal, as far as Nate was concerned, not something to be treated so lightly. People had gotten hurt because of his uncontrollable bullshit.

Nate can’t help himself, y’know? Not right now. His eye drops obviously to Locke’s mouth interest lifting his brows as he considers. “Yea, Y’gonna the mouth for it sweetheart.” Fingers twitch as the ascended fights the urge to reach up again, settling for a smirk instead. “And what a gift it is.

A little huff of laughter leaves Nate, his head shaking. “Nowhere t’box now. Not without causing a scene.” He jokes, shaking his head when Locke doesn’t get it. “I’d miss it more, if I was you.” A shrig rolls over his shoulders, Nate content to be still and silent as the other man speaks, his brows wagging at the end. “Y’should show me.” Nate suggests, his chin jutting out like a target and his eyes growing heavy, muddying what exactly he’s asking for.
NATE
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
Played by: Zombeikid Offline
Change author:
Posts: 831 | Total: 848
MP: 630
#10
LOCKE

"Let's just say I have a hunch, alright?" He's not in the mood for that kind of conflict right now. And honestly he just wants all of that behind him. The sooner he can forget about Maeve and Sunjata, the better honestly. But the topic seems over and he's glad for that too. He's tired of shit being messy.

He gives Nate a little grin, shrugging his shoulders. "You don't even know what I can do with my mouth, Nate. It's like.. My secret weapon." Maybe one day but that requires more effort than he's willing to properly think about right now.

"M'fine, Nate, I really am. Aurelia is too." He feels bad, that he couldn't do more. That he doesn't have answers for him. Locke reaches up, patting the side of Nate's face in some attempt at comforting him. It's probably not the best but it's fine. "It could have been worse and it wasn't. Gotta be thankful for that. Can't let yourself drown in 'what if's or whatever."

"You think I don't mind attention?"  He hates it actually but he's playing a part, alright? "And I think, just going out on a limb, that the Wren Society is a little more important than a boxing ring. Jus' sayin'." His voice pitches up and he shrugs, rolling his shoulders. He means it though. He drops his hand back to his side, tucking it into his pockets. Because he's awkward.

He steps back, giving himself space and doing a little wiggle. It's still kind of exciting okay. And then he shifts and he's full on cat, a low growl reverberating through his chest. His claws dig into the dark sand before he takes a few slow steps closer to Nate. Another pause and he rubs against the other man like a proper house cat, if house cats were 200 pounds.
I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
MP: 0
#11
One slip of the tongue, Razor sharp, but never let it show
Always liked figuring out secrets.” Nate turns his head to mumble the words into his shoulder, eye stubbornly locked on Locke’s mouth now that it’s been the centre of attention for so long. His fingers actually lifting this time, hovering in the air between them.

Lips purse into a hard line, Nate restraining the urge to roll his eyes this time. He wants to argue, it’s simply who he is, but before he even gets a chance to open his mouth There’s a hand on his face. At first, the ascended simply stiffens, brows pulled together, but in an instant there’s a too tight grip on Locke’s wrist. “Don’t.” The warning hisses out of him, Nate’s one good eye hard and icy for a breath longer before melting. “I am thankful.” His grip loosens and shifts, a thumb finding its way to Locke’s palm to rub a soothing circle against the scars there.

Whatever moment he had seems to pass entirely entirely, the subject shifting to his guild. A smile even wider than the fake ones he’d hosted before crosses his face, Nate seeming utterly pleased at Locke’s insistence. “Knew there was a reason I liked you.” Nate purrs, who thoroughly stroked by the other man.

There’s nothing but interest in Nate’s eyes as he watches Locke’s shape slip into something else, something that is all sleek lines and sinuous muscle. Something that presses its head into his leg and all but demands affection. And who is he to deny it? Both hands come out to scratch behind Locke’s ears for a long moment before Nate leans back, his own shape slipping into something feline and dark and most definitely stolen.

This is new. Obviously. Nate’s mind is a high frequency buzz through the bond, everything carefully held back, and yet still straining under the pressure. .
NATE
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
Played by: Zombeikid Offline
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Posts: 831 | Total: 848
MP: 630
#12
Maybe all you need is someone to trust
The little touches drive him insane. He doesn't know what they mean or where they stand and each one makes it more confusing. Friends, sure, but something else? He doesn't know. Either way, the soft gesture is almost too much for him and he wants to run. Then again he always kind of wants to run from Nate. Instead he just gives the other man a crooked grin as his hand drops to his side. He thinks there's a lot they should talk about but there's kittyness to be had and he'd much rather do that.

Another rumble bubbles up in his chest as he's pet but then Nate is pulling away and he'd frown if he had lips. But then Nate is shifting too. Sleek and black where he is golden. His ears pull back, flat against his head in confusion as his tail begins to whip slightly. What is happening? But then he hears Nate's voice, feels him and his eyes go wide. See, Locke knew about the bond but only in that kind of.. Never experienced it way. He also knows nothing about the whole feeling thing. There's the lingering lust he always feels around Nate, the warm fuzzy feeling of a friend, the new found bloodlust that comes with being an apex predator.

I could say the same. He steps closer, sniffing the air around the other cat. Interesting. He's the bigger of the two now, even if he always was. It's more noticeable now though. Similar and yet so very different. It's an amusing thought. Who did you steal that from? It's all a purr as he begins to stalk around the other, examining all the ways they're a like and the ways they're different.
LOCKE
Nate Wrenzaok
the Lone (Free) Ranger
"Doctor" / Guildmaster

Age: 37 | Height: 6'1" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 50 - Luck: 46 - Int: 1
PEMOTA - Mythical - Starwhale (narwhal) RAMOTH - Mythical - Dragon (Biopulse)
Played by: Johnnie Offline
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Posts: 2,792 | Total: 4,183
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#13
NATE
While he might keep his own emotions locked tightly away behind a facade, there’s nothing stopping him from dipping into Locke’s, nothing to keep him from indulging in blood lust and touch lust, though Nate is careful to keep himself away from the glimmer of friendship. It’s too much, too bright to look at or think about.

Instead, he surges forward, bumping his head into the other cats as Locke comes closer, hard enough that it jars him, has to jar the other man. It’s friendly, even if it isn’t nice. Sitting back on his haunches, Nate holds himself as large as he can, fur on the back of his neck puffed up and his claws digging into the sand.  Dull blue eyes follow Locke’s inspection, Nate moving only as much as he needs to to keep the other in view. His tail flicks against the sand, tracing and sweeping away soft patterns as it moves.

You have to guess. Nate teases lightly, something oily infecting his side of the bond. A single dark paw lifts as Locke begins to come back around, slow, casual until it isn’t, until Nate is pouncing against the others side, meaning to bowl them both over into the sand and scramble his way back on top.
Let’s admit, without apology,
what we do to each other
Locke Moore
Mercenary

Age: 34 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 5 - Strg: 26 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 15 - Int:
Played by: Zombeikid Offline
Change author:
Posts: 831 | Total: 848
MP: 630
#14
Maybe all you need is someone to trust
A low growl rumbles through his chest as Nate bumps against him. Everything is so heavy handed with Nate but he kind of likes it. Maybe one day he'll ask about it. For now he mimics the headbutt before he starts his circling. He wonders how familiar Nate is with this form. If he steals it often. He wonders how much more powerful the other cat is, even if he is the bigger one.

Nate asks him to guess but he doesn't need to. Locke knows how this works, vaguely, and he's not an idiot. A multitude of things crackle along the bond. Anger, resentment, jealousy, blood lust. They only last a moment, quickly pushed down for something lighter. One day he'll sort all of this out, if he ever gets a moment to breath again. Now is not that moment because before he can take his next step, he's being thrown to the sand.

He lets Nate on top, rolling onto his back. This is easier and it's more fun being on the bottom anyway. He leans forward, paws going to wrap around Nate's shoulders as he angles his head to bite his neck. If it lands, it won't be hard, something almost playful really. They are playing after all. At least he assumes they are. It'd probably be more fun if they were human and maybe naked but he'll take this. He's gotta stop trying to get people to naked wrestle him anway.
LOCKE


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