methuselah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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singillatim2024-06-05 12:00 am
singmod) wrote in singillatim2024-06-05 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- *event,
- benton fraser: lorna,
- bigby wolf: jelle,
- billy gibson: jelle,
- casper darling: mimi,
- chloe frazer: tess,
- cornelius hickey: kates,
- damian wayne: cass,
- edward little: jhey,
- francis crozier: gels,
- jessica hamby: devi,
- john irving: gabbie,
- kate marsh: cheryl,
- kieren walker: cheryl,
- konstantin veshnyakov: jhey,
- lalo salamanca: amber,
- lestat de lioncourt: beth,
- levi ackerman: dem,
- levi jordan: cirape,
- louis de pointe du lac: tea,
- peter parker: trace,
- randvi: tess,
- rorschach: shade,
- ruby rose: josh,
- sam carpenter: lia,
- snow white: carly,
- svetlana nazarova: kota,
- tim drake: fox,
- vasiliy ardakin: yasmine,
- wynonna earp: lorna
seven devils all around you, seven devils in your house
JUNE 2024 EVENT
PART ONE — A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME: The Darkwalker claims another victim, and that is only the beginning of troubles for the Interlopers as they face a month of endless night and green gloom.
PART TWO — POLAR SUN: As June continues, Interlopers are faced with food insecurity as wildlife flees; tensions grow as they face hunger and the Darkwalker's continued influence. On the day of the Summer Solstice, the tension finally breaks and violent chaos descends upon Interlopers.
PART THREE — REPRIEVE: The end is in sight, and an ally comes to the Interloper’s aid.
A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME
WHEN: June 1st, then onwards.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area (Carter Hydrodam).
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.
The evening is quiet and still. May draws to a close and while the sun does not completely set, it dips low enough for the sky to grow a little darkdim with twilight. The midnight sun is almost upon the Northern Territories, the air is warmer than it has ever felt — even if it remains chilly. If this is summer, it is but a gentle brush of reprieve against the unyielding winter. The Interlopers wind down for the night, many turn to their beds to sleep, others sit awake and ponder their existence in this world. They think of home, of loved ones, of their predicament here in this place. The Forest Talkers, the strange beasts and monsters they’ve encountered.
The moon wanes in the skies, nestled amongst the stars. For those still awake to notice, they can see it: slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out. Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the Northern Territories.
The sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.
They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.
Under a green sky, a cold fear washes over you — squeezing the breath from your lungs. Interlopers will find themselves overcome with that fear, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperately attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cower alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.
For those within Milton, it is further away but is by no means less potent: Interlopers will find themselves frozen with the constant loom of the Darkwalker’s arrival — even if it does not come to Milton. Those within Lakeside, however, will feel the true force of this presence: more like a knife edge — painfully gripping your heart as it draws close.
The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.
For those in Lakeside, through the fear, they may be able to note the path: a straight line from the east towards Carter Hydrodam. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.
There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and even with the distance you can hear it. The sound of gnashing teeth, and… laughter. There is no scream, no bright light in the sky — Enola is silent this time. There is only that laughter, echoing off into the night.
The skies do not return to normal. The green gloom hangs in the air. It is done, but it is not yet over. While the overwhelming fear dissolves away, but a kind of… dread remains on the air — almost palpable.
The Darkwalker has devoured another. Braver souls who go out to investigate into Lakeside will find just who has been devoured once they reach the Hydrodam — although it may be a day or two before they will find the body in the medical bay.
At least it is cold enough that the rot does not fully set in — but death will certainly be here.
And this is but the beginning of the Interloper’s troubles.
POLAR SUN
WHEN: The month of June, up to Midsummer’s Eve + Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton area; Lakeside area.
CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of survival; food scarcity/food insecurity; supernatural weather; altered mental states; mental manipulation; themes of violence; potential character injury; potential character death; potential NPC death.
In the coming weeks and days, and weeks, the green gloom lingers. From the Darkwalker’s attack, there is no sun. No day, no night. No stars or moon or sun. No Auroras. Just the gloom and biting cold. Life becomes increasingly hard on Interlopers: higher expenditure on fuel — fires and lanterns are imperative to keep the darkness and the cold at bay.
With the green gloom in the air, the wildlife becomes more scarce — as if it has been frightened away into the deeper parts of the wilds. It will be harder to bring in fresh meat in both Milton and Lakeside, and Interlopers will find that they will have to rely on whatever stores they have — and perhaps even rationing for a while.
And it’s not the only thing frightened. Even with the debilitating fear that comes with the Darkwalker’s attack gone, there is still a kind of fear that lingers on the air that slowly eats away at the Interloper’s resolve over time.
Interlopers will find themselves anxious, on edge. Some will be prone to anger in their fear, others prone to fits of melancholy: tearfulness and sorrow. Between the cold, the lack of fresh game and the fear on the air — it’s no wonder spirits are low. Bickering and minor upsets between Interlopers are likely.
They call it the midnight sun, the polar day. It's opposite is the polar night. This is neither and both. On the day of midsummer's eve, that fear on the air is even more palpable. The air feels a little stifling at times, as if the pressure is all off — often quite oppressive, a strange kind of tension. There is something brewing, a low burning thing that begins from the moment Interlopers wake — heavy and sharp in their chest.
’So, Interloper. What will you do now?’ A voice sneers in your ear. The very same voice that has haunted Interlopers since the very beginning. The Darkwalker finally speaks after all these weeks of gloom since its most recent attack. ’When all is gone, when even the sun does not rise? What will you do then?’
A nervousness sits within you as you remember the Darkwalker’s words. What will you do if the sun does not rise? If the darkness is all that is left? If the food runs out? Your wonderings will continue to gnaw away within you. The darkness is hollowing.
’Will you lean on others, like you have always tried to do?’ the voice continues. ’What bonds you hold with them, the ones with those around you. But how strong are they, truly? Can you trust them? Will it matter when your belly is empty and your heart is low? Perhaps it is time to see.
’Never forget, Interloper. I am the Rot. And I will rot within you.’
As the day progresses into the Solstice, that tension lingers in the air, and the wonderings within you continue to wear at you. You find yourself becoming more and more agitated as time goes on. Those feelings that have been brewing for some time now have started to grow close to boiling. You may snap at others, grow restless, become enraged at the tiniest of things — the upsets wildly out of proportion for the smallest slights or issues.
You find your thoughts wandering, too. Perhaps it is to someone you know in this place, or perhaps it is to someone previously unknown to you. Maybe you have an issue with this person, or perhaps the voice’s influence extends further — not only adding to your agitations but creating them, too. A slight, a grudge, a bias.
You feel a bitter gnawing within you. The nightmarish green gloom above you persists and everything bubbles up from within. From the dark, the anger within you become too much. The tension finally snaps.
For some, it might come out as a vicious argument where you air your grievances, or finally let slip the things you’ve been holding close to your chest. A verbal beat down, incredibly hurtful in nature. For others, things may be drawn to getting physical. A literal beat down where your fists grow bruised and bloody, or perhaps even worse. Whatever it is, you want to do damage to someone else — there is darkness here, and so many things come out in the dark, don’t they?
Like a ripple, all around you: all hell breaks loose. Chaos erupts, and the air is filled with violence.
Let’s hope you might stop, or someone else stops you, before someone gets killed.
REPRIEVE
WHEN: Circa three days after the Summer Solstice.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: blood.
All things must come to an end, even the most violent of deadly storms. In the midst of the seemingly endless violence of the night, you find yourself outside. Maybe you're fleeing from another Interloper, maybe you're desperately trying to reach someone you care for, maybe you're simply trying to find somewhere new to hide. Interlopers are hunting one another, blood lies on the snow, bodies too — some breathing, some not.
Perhaps it is a trick of the light. Perhaps it's the Darkwalker’s influence still warping your already frayed mind. Or it's the blood in your eyes, your battered and bruised body struggling to get through it all.
In the gloom, you see it. See her.
A woman, dressed in furs, stones and shells glimmering on her chest like armour, stands in the snow before you. Thin and pale, eyes sunken. Her chest heaves with each breath as she looks around with wide eyes. Her hands are bare and bloody. It drips slowly from her fingers. Is it her blood? Or someone else's? You cannot tell, but you cannot mistake how thick it coats her skin.
Her head turns to look at you. You are stunned, but not frightened. Even through the gloom, after a moment or two, her eyes widen in recognition: she knows you.
Slowly and silent, other than her noisy breathing, she draws close to you. Maybe in turn you draw close to her, closing the distance between you. Up close, her eyes are blue, and sad. You cannot mistake the sorrow in them. She is tired, weary. Her hair is dark, worn loose and long. For some, you feel as if you've seen her before, but you can't quite place her face.
Softly, she says your name.
For some, there may be no recognition. This woman is a stranger, who knows your name somehow. She has been silent the past couple of months, after all.
For others, hearing her speak brings a sudden, jarring realisation: this is Enola.
She’s here. Enola. All this time, she’s whispered to you in dreams, in static, in the very air itself.
She raises one hand, dark and dripping in the green light. Lightly, her fingers brush against your chest. You don’t feel the pressure of them, don’t feel the odd heat of blood — only the weight of her stare as she holds your gaze. It’s a long moment of peace in amongst the chaos.
You feel her exhaustion, a tiredness that sinks into your very bones. Apologies, too. You have never known anything like it. But there’s something else too, something that takes a moment or two to put your finger on. Defiance. A renewal. Something shifts in the air, a growing tension, different from the kind that’s been held on the air throughout the month. It’s the coming of a storm, the rolling clouds, the growing rumble of thunder before the first lightning strike.
Enola nods, her expression grave. She pulls away and turns from you — her head lifting towards the skies as she walks. Her arms raise, bloodied hands twisting and tensing before her. They curl, almost into fists, and she makes a gesture: the slow tearing of something huge and invisible before her — a shriek spilling from her lips. A battle-cry, a last stand, a wail of agony. It echoes.
The sky cracks and splits open before you, dazzling light and colours blinding your vision into pure white. The world tilts too hard below your feet, and you don’t remember passing out.
When you awaken, Enola is gone. The skies are clear and blue, the sun is high in the sky. As you pick yourself up from the snow, in the harsh light of the polar day, blood has never looked so red. The horrors of the night laid bare. Interlopers are dead, but the Darkwalker’s influence is gone. For now.
In the wake of Midsummer, all Interlopers can do is try reconcile. Bury the dead, rebuild, lick wounds. But that feeling in the air still remains — that different, new kind of tension that has come with Enola’s appearance. The first of the lightning bolts has struck, but more are coming.
FAQs
1. Alexander Hilbert has been devoured by the Darkwalker. His remains can be found in the Hydrodam. The following note has been left by Kates concerning his death: ‘Sveta gets possession of his research notes + blood samples + creepy lab journal because it's all in Russian, lmao.’
2. Information on the Darkwalker’s attack can be found here.
3. Usually, after the Darkwalker attacks, the sky would return to normal. This won’t happen. Instead, the usual atmospheric changes that occur during Darkwalker attacks will remain in place as June continues..
1. For an idea how the setting appears for June, it's like what you see in the game during the Escape The Darkwalker Challenge. Inside, there'll be a degree of green shades to rooms etc via what comes through windows but with it being lit up via fires and light sources, the gloom will be chased back.
2. Characters are free to use this event to kill NPC Interlopers. Methuselah and Young Bill are off the table, as are two marked NPC Interlopers. Please let Mods know if you intend on doing this for record keeping!
3. These acts of violence can be physical or verbal altercations, players are encouraged to work with the prompt however they'd like! However, anything potentially world-altering (ie. building destruction) must be first discussed with mods.
4. Interlopers under the Darkwalker's influence can be stopped in a number of ways. Showing genuine care and compassion in the face of violence is one way. Knocking an Interloper out is another way. Sometimes killing an Interloper may be needed, or simply restraining them and keeping them locked up somewhere so they can't hurt anyone else until the night is over would also work.
5. Talismans made by Heartman back in March with a Ward Sigil against the Darkwalker will come into effect during this prompt. It's been an ongoing process, with new Interlopers being offered them from their arrival. Players are free to choose what kind of talisman they received, or if they chose to get one at all. Their effectiveness is dependent on the type of blood used on the talisman.
— Animal Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from animals found in the world, such as deer, rabbits or wolves will find themselves more susceptible to the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They will be much harder to break out of the hold over them, and become almost frenzied state.
— Monster Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood from any creatures or monsters that Interlopers have encountered in their time in the Northern Territories, such as the Serpent from December’s TDM will find there are no negative nor positive effects. The talisman is essentially useless. and Interlopers will fall under the Darkwalker's influence.
— Interloper Blood: Interlopers carrying talismans using blood for Interlopers will be offered protection/resistance from the Darkwalker’s influence and disposition towards violence. They may be slightly affected but will have their wits about them more compared to others. If the blood came from an Interloper with an Aurora Feat — this protection/resistance will be largely increased, an the Interloper may even feel braver, less affected by the fear in the atmosphere.
— No Talisman: Similar to the Monster Blood Talisman, Interlopers will be affected typically by the Darkwalker's influence in due course.
There are no additional affects with an Interloper using their own blood, just if they have an Aurora Feat or not.
6. Animals owned by Interlopers will be more frightened and will want to hide away in the build up — they will be disturbed by the world. Mostly lying down and whining/restlessness. They may display some signs of aggression on occasion, but not to the same degree of humans.
7. Forest Talkers are hidden away and will not be able to be reached during the Solstice.
1. Enola can only be met alone, but she will appear to all Interlopers in Milton.
2. Enola will be nowhere to be found afterwards, there are no tracks to be followed. She has simply vanished.
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His smile sharpens again. Why not say it? “For now,” he adds, pointed and pleased about it. “I think…”
This hesitation isn’t because what’s coming is difficult to say. It’s only that he isn’t sure about it, and he’s imagining it so he can be more certain. He exhales roughly through parted lips, eyes lidding a little. “If you did ask, and we did kiss, I would want more than your body can give me right now.”
His fingers start slowly tracing over Francis’ lips again. The tension is gone from his body, only a faint memory lingering — but those memories are of all possibilities with this man closing themselves off forever. In the reality in front of him, they’re all opening up.
“What else wouldn’t you ask for, Francis?” he goes on, voice inching toward a low murmur. “Only a kiss?”
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He’s not expecting-
He hasn’t ever-
He doesn’t know how to respond to Raju and his obvious sincerity. Not even Sophia had been that upfront about wanting him physically; it was all coy smiles and little jokes until he’d finally had her, and even then it’d been a quiet, hidden affair. Sophia had never been ashamed of him, but she’d never fought for him quite like this.
Being wanted without some sort of fight or game to play is absolutely mind boggling. Raju just…he wants, and Crozier has no reason to doubt him, not a single one. He looks back up at him and those heavily-lidded eyes and thick eyelashes and has to exhale slowly against the lips still against his fingers.
“I’d…well.” Christ, now he’s the one stunned into silence. “No. Of course not. If you gave me that kiss I’d never be satisfied.”
He’d hate to lose the view and the touch, but he’s aching to sit up now and take that man into his arms, fulfilling all those frustrating daydreams and flights of fancy. He’ll ask him properly for a kiss, and Raju will just have to be patient and not ask for more in turn, lest his lung collapse.
Although…
No. Probably shouldn’t push it. He’s not superhuman.
“I thought I died the first time when you stripped down for the hot springs.”
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With a fond brush of a thumb alongside Francis' jaw Raju's hand moves away, so he can set it against the back of the chair and lean over it. Because he can, he dips a hand in the water and starts dripping it over the soap he knows is still in Francis' hair, the gesture mostly an excuse to run his hand repeatedly through Francis' hair and over his head.
"What did you like?" Raju grins, watching Francis from this new, closer position. "Tell me."
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He laughs quietly, if only to hold back a moan that would be ill-advised in this moment (but so appropriate thanks to the feeling of Raju’s hands back in his hair). “By god, I’ve created a monster.”
And what hadn’t he liked?
“The little dip of your waist,” he answers, raising his own hand up to casually run over his arm. “The color of your skin, dark and golden and warm, the breadth of your shoulders, the way the muscles rippled every time you leaned towards me. Christ, you have no idea. Your neck, the way it slopes down in that graceful arc, your luscious chest that I just wanted to sink my teeth into, leave dusky little marks all over you…”
He might be getting a little too heated, but it’s difficult not to get carried away. “You’ve been so covered up, even in our cabin, but seeing the full picture of you…you took my breath away.”
But Raju had liked how he’d looked? He doesn’t understand it, he’s scarred and pitted and his chest hair is going grey and he has the body of a man who went through starvation, but he’d be a fool to question it.
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It’s an interesting question, and one that hadn’t quite occurred to even ask Raju, but of course it might be different elsewhere. The Netsilik tended to mind their own business when it came to sleeping with the same sex. Caribou hunts were isolating, lonely. Men would comfort each other, and women would do the same.
But he’s Irish. He had a man flogged for it, though to be fair there’d been a fair few aspects to that whole incident. There’d been nuances to romancing a man - on the ships it was a punishable offense, on the ice it wasn’t likely to be enforced. England versus the wider world, always England versus the wider world.
It’s a mood killer, but Raju asked.
“Gibson lives with Hickey, as man and wife would,” he starts to explain quietly. “Lieutenant Irving found out about the affair before we abandoned ships, and condemned it openly. For men in the Royal Navy it could be punished by the cat, repeated offenses by death. In England…it was the work house, or death.
“Gibson is still terrified about retribution, even now, even after I’d reassured him. That says it all, doesn’t it? Here in this wilderness, no law, barely a community, he’s still afraid to be seen.”
He frowns softly. “I’ve never lived openly, I’ve never thought to. Those…inclinations stayed locked away, even with the Netsilik, even here. Especially here. My men are here. The captain doesn’t have romantic entanglements, it just isn’t done.
Which isn’t to say that I didn’t feel those things for you, or want them.”
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"You didn't want your men to know?" he asks, tone only curious. "And you didn't want me to know? I wouldn't have left, even if I didn't want the things I do. It's you. If I haven't said anything that'd make you leave yet, I don't think I could. I won't do any less for you."
Because it does matter that Francis knows that, even if in a practical sense it's never going to come up. Not that Raju told Francis either, but Raju hasn't known for very long, and he hadn't been thinking about what needed to be done about it, exactly. He'd been trying to, but— well. He's curious, that's all, and wants Francis to know.
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“Raju,” he says quietly, though firmly. He raises his hand to hold Raju’s bearded chin, tilting him down as though he wasn’t already staring down at him. “I know. I fear rejection as much as anyone else, but I never feared you.”
He exhales through his nose, letting him go in favor of pushing his fingers through Raju’s beard, toying with the well-kept facial hair. “I struggle to want. To allow myself to want. What right do I have to something that makes me happy?”
He knows Raju understands this all-too-well. Possibly more than him; people still want on him at home.
But he doesn’t want to dwell on this, their burdens and the feelings of guilt, and bring up everything outside of this moment.
“I don’t know how I feel about my men knowing. To be honest, I haven’t given much thought to what happens beyond this moment.”
He sits up carefully, hair all out of sorts and head feeling like he’s underwater. His hand moves to Raju’s neck and he draws him forward. “Other than I wanted it, very much.”
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“I want it too,” he murmurs, voice low again, gaze moving from Francis’ blue eyes to his lips, attention narrowing to the shape he’d been so slowly tracing over before. His hand is on Francis’ neck and he starts tugging Francis a little forward, too. “Very much. I want to make you happy.”
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Wants to make him happy.
I’d make you happy. I do make you happy.
You do, but your station does not.
He waits for Raju to clarify, to put some sort of caveat onto the statement, to list all the ways he could make him happy but would ultimately displease him in the end.
It doesn’t come. That was the end of the statement, he wants to make him happy.
“You do.”
And nothing more from his end, at least not in terms of words. He presses forward, physical barrier of the back of his chair keeping him from surging forward, though that’s probably for the best. He’s going to lose himself quickly, and does so the second he brings their faces close enough to touch.
Crozier presses his slightly chapped lips to Raju’s, touch chaste, searching, exploring. He’s soft, oh Christ, he’s soft and perfect, so perfect - he tips his head and opens his mouth enough to fit them together properly.
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Francis has failed, by his own reckoning, an enormous number of people who depended on him. Now all those vulnerable people are dead but he hasn’t put responsibility down, hasn’t run from it and hasn’t so lost himself to the weight of that unbearable failure that he won’t still fight. He fights hard enough, still, to protect those who can’t protect themselves that help them, protect them from him was nearly the last request Francis ever made in this world. He’s an honorable man, even when it’s hard. He’s kind even when he’s frightened of it, afraid not to keep his distance but crossing the space between them anyway, even when they didn’t know one another well, to help. If anyone has the right to happiness anywhere, then Francis does. And Raju can give it to him. Raju and maybe no one else, not here and now, not in this one particular way.
And in some of the other ways, too. He remembers living with Francis all this time. Watching him cook and hunt and share his food, and douse Raju with water so he doesn’t burn the place down in his sleep and then smile at Raju after, as if he doesn’t resent waking that way at all, and listening to Francis’ accent and steady, patient voice spinning long and fascinating stories on long and awful nights, and feeling Francis’ body a solid warm comfort against him while Raju tries and tries and fails to sleep, laying on the blankets near him frightened of the morning and Francis keeping hold of Raju’s hand—
It all crashes into this moment. Francis kisses chastely, like he’s charting some slow and careful course, but there’s too much inside of Raju to do slow or careful and he pushes forward abruptly, realises his grip is still solid on the back of Francis neck and loosens it instinctively, letting the forward motion of his kissing push Francis however it will instead. He opens his mouth and closes it again, opens it and closes it, moving his head like he’s about to bite at Francis’ lip but has to keep resisting the impulse.
There’s the roar of fire somewhere. From the direction of the fireplace, he thinks, and maybe outside the walls. The fabric of the chair is held tight in Raju’s other fist, and he dismisses the roaring sound. If it isn’t inside and in the way, it isn’t the thing here worth devoting his attention to.
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He makes a soft noise, caught between a low, throaty groan and a whimper, as Raju meets the gentle searching with outright hunger. It surprises him, bold and forward and completely wanting as Raju is, and wanting him - dear god, he wants so badly to match the fervor. He tries, tangling fingers in his thick, dark hair as he deepens the kiss, lips parting in invitation. Raju can take whatever he wants to take; he’s eager to give.
He feels the heat of the flames, but his concern matches Raju’s - if they’re not actively on fire it doesn’t matter. He’s been wanting this for so long, a little fire isn’t going to prevent him from kissing the man he loves absolutely senseless.
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He vaguely feels Raju repositioning himself, the chair creaking slightly and a leg (maybe?) nearby, but there's teeth and tongue and he absolutely doesn't not care enough to pull away and find out what's happening. Not when Raju is biting his lips swollen and humming happily into his mouth, as though sating some craving.
It's still a very strange thought, that he could possibly be the thing Raju had been lusting after. Gorgeous Raju with the dimpled smile and intense stare and very muscled arms and chest that he'd like very much like to get under fingertips and lips.... Distracted by his own thoughts, he pulls back for just a brief moment and slides a hand down from neck and over one sculpted shoulder, then kisses him again with tongue dipping past his lips to greedily take more of him.
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—and his knee is closer to the inside of the armrest than he thought it was, he realises, as he falls suddenly, hand on the chair darting out hoping to catch a different part of it, knee moving to... well, to some place where Francis isn't, hopefully. Just enough of Raju's mind is still capable of turning itself to practicalities that he remembers Francis' body isn't in any state to be leaned on, so if he can manage to get his hand across to the other armrest instead, maybe he can hold himself up that way.
He does make a surprised noise, muffled into Francis' mouth. He doesn't stop kissing. He only has an instant to react, after all, and his instincts tell him what he should be prioritising now.
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Crozier’s mostly content to ignore all the little shifts and stumbles, in fact he barely even notices, so wrapped up in that brilliant smile against his lips and how good he tastes, the slight nip of teeth and the slide of his tongue against his-
But Raju overbalances or falls or gets a little too lost in the tangle of chair and limbs, and his hand brushes between Crozier’s legs as he tries to right himself. The kiss is interrupted by a bit of a surprised gasp which gets punched out of his lungs by the inadvertent touch.
Well then. At least he knows his lower half still works, because it’s quick to respond to just that.
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"Oh?" he murmurs, their faces so close that he can feel his own breath reflecting off Francis' skin. He twists his hand a little as he pulls it, as if he's moving it away, only very slowly, and keeps his eyes on Francis' face, trying to see if he should keep moving his hand away or if Francis is going to want it staying there.
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Crozier is going to kill this man for trying to kill him. He should have kept his mouth shut and not allowed himself a whimper; where’s all his self control gone?
Out and away, is where it’s gone. He meets Raju’s eyes and quickly grasps his wrist, holding him in place with a hungry look.
“You have to be more careful with where you put your hands,” he growls low, tiniest of smile following the non-threat. “Take a little ownership of what you do to a man.”
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Raju twists his wrist just a little in Francis' grip, testing it. "Well, I'm trying to take it," he says, grin growing again, "but something's not letting me reach over."
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“I didn't want you to escape,” he says, outright smiling now. The look on Raju’s face, the awareness that he’s caused a stirring in him - he’s lucky that Crozier’s a little frail still, deviant thoughts starting to flood his brain as they are.
“But the chair isn’t helping, is it?” He lets go of his hand, but not without bringing it up to his lips and giving his wrist a little bite. “Shall we remedy this?”
He’s tired of the odd twisting they’ve been having to do anyway. If Raju can get himself on his lap…
He looks down into the space in front of him, then back at Raju with a suggestive eyebrow raise.
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He realises what Francis’ question was and hums agreeably, his smile curling eager around the corners of his eyes. He sets one hand on the armrest, for balance The other plants itself the smallest bit back from where it had been on the seat of the chair while he holds Francis’ gaze, swinging one leg around to wedge its knee outside Francis’ leg and then his other knee beside the other leg, giving himself a broad, satisfying base to lean forward from. And if putting his knees there does force Francis’ legs closer around his hand, and that hand happens to have to brush the insides of Francis’ thighs while it lifts itself up, well, what a coincidence that would be.
“What about this?” he asks, voice low, one hand sitting lightly against Francis’ shoulder and the other settling down for a light grip over one of Francis’ hips. “Easier from here?”
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There’s no hiding his want from Raju at that cheeky little pull of his hand from his tightly-pressed thighs. Raju is a clever man; he has no doubt that it was a deliberate act.
He’s able to lean himself against the back of the chair, which allows for more holding and nuzzling, and hopefully more of what they were doing previously. His arm without the hand is placed on his waist, hand sliding sweetly down his arm and over his shoulder, up to his neck, then down to his hip. He’d assumed there’d be a shapely arse underneath all those layers, and from what he can feel he thinks he might have been correct.
It requires further study, of course.
“Much,” he purrs, wishing he had that second hand to wander as he pleased. “For you as well?”
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The thought doesn’t keep centre stage in his mind for long. There’s a lot of body underneath him to be concerned about.
“Mmm,” he hums, deep and pleased, in answer to Francis’ question. He leans forward, because he can, hand on Francis’ shoulder moving to the chair back beside Francis’ head, so he can lean himself forward to press his front against Francis’ without putting any weight on his fragile ribs. His other hand drifts up Francis’ side to plant itself against the chair there too, biceps straining against the layers of his shirts as he holds himself in place. His deep, panting breaths press their chests closer rhythmically, and blow heat over Francis’ cheeks and back against Raju’s own as Raju ducks his head toward them, holding himself with his lips less than an inch away, turning his head very slowly, tip of his nose and his breath tracing a path over Francis’ skin.
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Time slows. The air feels thicker around them. Crozier grows warm under the collar, warm nearly everywhere, body straining to keep himself still, comfortable trousers becoming tighter by the second. He inhales sharply, the scent of Raju mixed with soap and pine needles and a hint of sweat, and bites his own lip to hold in the helpless groan that threatens to escape him.
He tries to catch Raju’s lips, chin tilting and teeth nipping with futility. He sighs, hand splayed out now, fingers pushing in to move him forward and embed themselves in strong muscle, and tries again with a lean forward. He manages a soft and unsatisfying kiss before a thought occurs to him-
“Have you…?” Ever, he assumes the answer is a yes, but with a man? But if not he’s clearly not letting him stop him, teasing and pressing and pushing in all the right ways to make Crozier want to buck and roll his hips for some relief.
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"Only with Seetha." It isn't something he'd admit to just anyone — even the rest at home pretend the two of them don't live like man and wife before they actually are, for Seetha's sake — but even if they were home Francis would be safe to tell it to, and Raju doesn't hesitate to say it. There's a concern behind the question somewhere, maybe Francis not knowing where exactly to take this either and hoping for suggestions and Raju should prompt him to find out but the thought to do it comes and goes, Raju's gaze more focused on Francis' eyes the longer he looks into them. It's the perfect distance to be looking from. He'd wanted to say something about them, hadn't he? Now feels like a good time. A perfect time.
"Did you know..." he starts and pauses for a moment, fascinated. "Your eyes. Just at the inside there, before the blue. A little bit of tan. Like the bottom of a riverbed."
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