drear | i put socks on my feet

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i put socks on my feet

[ hades himself isn't much one for social pleasantries, but he there's great importance to dinners like these, and watching their interactions really is fascinating. the meal is already winding down, but the poet who's been declaiming for the better part of an hour is still going strong.

hades is mostly ignoring him and picking at his food, humming occasional acknowledgement to when people talk to him, as head of the house. most of the slaves waiting on them are positioned around the perimeter of the room, while hades has left mitsunari largely to his own devices. ]

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[ there's a small smear of blood on hades' lower lip that he licks away with a flick of his tongue. ]

You have not. [ hades doesn't seem to mind that, all the same. ] But it is here, by your blade.

It is?

[mitsunari watches hades lick away the blood, glances down to the shadows beneath. his eyes fall on the severed head and limp body still tied to the chair. by your blade can only mean a very few things, and right here ... ]

All that my blade has done is take the life of a fool.

It took. [ hades smiles, with a deep, dark note to his voice. ] And I am its absence.

[it takes him a moment to parse hades' meaning, but he does. mitsunari's eyes widen slightly at the realization.]

The absence of - you are death?

[he sounds slightly uncertain, but there isn't a lot of room in his mind for that, and he has no reason to doubt hades - or the shadows curling on the floor.]

...no.

[ there's a pause before he says that. ]

I am not. It is an aspect.

[mitsunari hesitates before speaking, trying to piece this revelation together. his grip on the sword never wavers.]

An aspect of you. [he watches hades steadily, still a bit wary.] I'm not certain I understand ... how that is, but -

[hades' smile was enough to tell him the truth of the matter, whether he understand or not.]

Is that so.

[ he inclines his head toward mitsunari, still smiling, still soft. there are only an inch or two of space and the blade between them. ]

You will continue taking, and that is the rotting. But—it is yours.

[the idea is unfamiliar, as is the idea of his work being 'rotting'. but mitsunari doesn't argue. he only nods, just slightly, the closeness not seeming to bother him at all.]

Yes, I will. It is an honor I accept without qualm. [a pause.] Do you ... gain, from death?

[ it could be gaining an advantage or a weakness, but either way, it's a question that simply doesn't apply. ]

In the way the ocean or sky gains. That which lies beneath the earth... and the dark.

Are there boundaries to them?

[mitsunari considers the question as yet another of hades' rhetoricals, and doesn't think too hard on it. his brow furrows momentarily.]

No. [he considers what little he knows of this land. something seems familiar.] I will not question your intent. My blade is as much yours as it is mine.

Ah... a part of it.

[ hades tilts his head to the side slowly, as if considering something again. the sword is still between them, obstructing part of their eye contact. after the pause, he reaches up to grip it with his bare hand, tightly enough for him to move it to the side. if his hand is cut, he doesn't even glance at it.

he leans in closer, keeping eye contact until their foreheads are almost touching. hades gives him another smile before pressing his mouth to mitsunari's. it might merely be physical contact, but there is no heat in hades' skin. he feels cold and too unyielding. ]

[he watches hades' movements closely, frowning a bit when hades grips the blade like it means nothing. he doesn't move back, doesn't flinch away from the closeness.

he does start a little when hades' mouth meets his. partly out of surprise that it happened at all, partly because of the chill. mitsunari knows that isn't exactly normal - but what of hades has been, ever?

he isn't certain what's intended here. it doesn't quite feel like a kiss, so he doesn't return it. if hades pushes, he'll respond, but for the moment he intends to err on the side of uncertainty.]

[ at first, hades doesn't move at all. then there's a soft sound—a quiet laugh—and he's opening his mouth slowly to mitsunari's. despite taking the initiative first, he subsides almost immediately after, letting mitsunari do as he will.]

[that is an answer, in its own way. mitsunari hesitates for a moment again, this time more out of something deeper than his natural wariness, before he returns the movement, pressing his mouth a little more against hades, parting his lips.

it's inexpert and more forceful than would probably be expected, though by no means harsh. his grip on his sword lessens just slightly, lowering it carefully even against hades' own grip.]

[ the body that hades moves about this world is not real, precisely, but it's corporeal enough, and it bleeds. mitsunari's movement of the blade pulls the sharp edge along his palm; red trickles from a small pool in hades' hand down his wrist and to his elbow. still, hades doesn't loosen his grip.

while mitsunari doesn't kiss particularly well, hades seems pleased enough. he smiles against mitsunari's mouth, humming a little and running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. he presses the palm of his free hand against mitsunari's stomach lightly, fingertips teasing as he moves his hand lower. ]

[he doesn't realize he's cut hades until he smells the blood, and mitsunari almost draws back at that, eyes flicking over to where he can see it running along hades' skin. his lips move in the beginnings of an apology, but when hades doesn't let go, doesn't flinch back or seem bothered in the slightest - when he smiles instead against the kiss - mitsunari relents, but now keeps his arm rigidly still so as not to do that again.

he tries returning the kiss as best his inexperience knows how. his breath hitches a bit when hades' hand finds his stomach, but otherwise he doesn't step back, his free hand curling into a loose fist at his side.]

[ for what it's worth, hades isn't judging. saying that he "likes" something is impossible, because it wouldn't be the truth.

he seems pleased, anyway; hades moves his hand in a small circle before cupping mitsunari gently through the front of his clothes. he pushes harder, taking a small step forward to nudge him against a wall. ]

[complying with the movement, mitsunari nonetheless breaks the kiss again to take a sharp breath at hades' touch. he stops paying attention to his own movement long enough that his back does hit the wall. hades' intentions are fairly clear, for once, and he doesn't intend to dissuade him.

... though the body lying mere feet away does put an edge on things. nonetheless, he makes no objection, only tightens the grip on his blade and tries to speak against the kiss.]

-- permit me to sheathe this, so I don't bring you further harm.

Hm. [ hades curls a hand briefly around mitsunari's hip before letting go of both his body and his blade and making a little space between them. ]

There is another blade—to be sheathed.

[ ah, bad dick jokes, an old form of humor, and hades is about a billion years old. ]

[and as can be expected, it goes right over mitsunari's head as he carefully resheathes his sword and sets it against the wall just within reach.

maybe he'll get it later.

for a moment his gaze rests on hades' bleeding hand, at the blood dripping to the floor, the shadows pooled beyond that. then he looks back up at hades again, still except for his breathing, which is just shy of steady.]

[ when mitsunari looks at hades' hand, hades turns his head slowly to look at it too. the injury itself doesn't look real up close; there's no fat or flesh revealed under the skin by the cut. it's a surface wound that only exposes more skin and blood. ]

Hmph. [ he turns his hand over and closes the distance between them. ] Well?

[ he's not smiling now. the shadows around them on the floor will feel heavy and solid to mitsunari like there are weights on his feet and on his shoulders. ]

[the weight doesn't deter him, doesn't make him hesitate. he watches hades, aware that something is expected of him here. the wound is evidently of no importance, and so he puts it out of his mind, and when hades closes the distance between them mitsunari leans in again to resume the kiss.

his hands move, one finding a hip, the other against hades' chest, the touch light as if uncertain they're allowed there.]

[ hades stays utterly still as mitsunari makes a move, not shutting his eyes, just watching as mitsunari leans in and kisses him. he still doesn't move when mitsunari places tentative hands on his body, but his mouth curves into a slight smile.

he moves in response, finally, placing his cut hand on the wrist of the hand mitsunari has on his hip, curling his fingers around it and holding it in place. ]

[he relaxes when hades moves and the hand curls around his wrist, though there's still a fair amount of tension in mitsunari as he fights the weight on his shoulders and the building heat in his own blood.

his grip gets firmer. he doesn't move away from the wall at all, doesn't push, but he leans in closer, his actions a little more urgent. so long as hades permits, he continues - the hand on hades' chest curling in the robe, reaching for the neckline to pull along the edge and find where it parts (if it does). he doesn't deepen the kiss, but as his desires burn hotter, it does lose any tentative nature.]

[ like the rest of hades' possessions, his clothes are made of valuable fabrics, heavy with embroidery and dye (god of all things under the earth, of course, includes the precious things as well as the dead). they open in the front, tied in place by a few cords.

hades hums softly against his mouth and presses forward. with the wall at his back, mitsunari has nowhere to back away to. hades slides a leg between his thighs gently. ]

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