Firestone Hot Springs [m] Wild Childs, Lookin' Good

Backdated to the 4th

After the camp had been set, Machi asked to be excused, patrolling the surrounding area with an unusual level of initiative and intrigue not typically displayed by the vain fellahin— unless, of course, he was up to something.

When he finally returned, the sun sunk low in the sky, painting the heavens in hues of amber and rose. The pale man pranced into camp, scanning for the familiar form of the little imp like a homing missile locking onto its target.

@Legend, he attempted a whisper that was about as quiet as it was subtle. With a playful bound, Machi greeted her with a hefty ramming of his head into her flank, nuzzling along her side with devoted exuberance. His eyes, more pupil than color, glistened with mischief and delight as he met her gaze.

Hello, my love, he purred, his voice dripping with warmth and affection. I'm so happy to see you. You'll never guess what I found. Machi’s tail swished eagerly behind him, a feathery plume of motion that mirrored the fluttering in his chest. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear as he continued, I found a secret, he whispered, dissolving into a fit of giggles that he tried to subdue with a paw to his muzzle.

Steam rolled over head with a baclit glow from a quiet moon. Fireflies danced in a blur in the distance under a canopy of evergreens. Limestone heated warmly, where beddings of moss nestled between their cracks.

Night flourished in a vibrant darkness, and the stars kissed through the pour of cirrus clouds. The imp lay stretched forward by one of the many pools, forelimbs in front of her chest with a lean in her pinched waist. The tip of her tail curled over her hind leg. Fur intertwined with fur where her shoulder met the press of soft cheek, and there she watched the swirl of hot spring water below.

Foggy hues searched at approaching steps. and they met the toned legs of Machiavelli's. The changelings tail unraveled. Greeted with a nuzzle into her flank, she answered gently, airy. "Hello." Her head turned into his cheek, brushing the sides of their muzzles against one another's, trailing warmly down the side of his neck. With closed eyes, breath heated the back of her ear. It flicked down softly against his nose. "Really? What have you found?" An interest piqued.

Opening to meet his gaze, her nose turned into his once more, and eagerly, a smile tugging at the edge of her moon-sheltered lips. "You must show 'secret,'" she urged.

Don't worry I will, the man tutted, turning and dropping a pouch to the ground with a squelch, which earned it a disapproving glare. I also, most generously if I might add, have found dinner. Machi added proudly, unraveling the bag to reveal a bundle of herbs and several large hunks of meat. His feathery tail began to wag excitedly as he inspected his haul, tickling Legend's nose. There's also a few rabbits buried not too far from here, but I'll need help carrying them. I've been very, very busy today as you can see, Legend dear, The fellahin said, turning around to face the woman expectantly.

With a dramatic flourish, he wrapped the bag again and began to take large, exaggerated steps, his movements more a dance than a walk. His path swayed and zigzagged as if he were navigating an invisible obstacle course.

He searched for a small spring among the pools, his eyes scanning the ground with intense if not somewhat unfocused, concentration. When he finally found a suitable spot, he dropped the pouch into the spring with a splash, wobbling backward to avoid the steaming water, his fair head crunching into his neck as if he were a turtle. Yeah, that looks good enough, he appraised with a sniff, voice dripping with confidence and a hint of slurred authority.

Rounding back on the jackdaw with a conspiratorial, devilish grin, he fell to the ground in a dramatic heap, pulling his lithe body along like a drunken snake. Let's go before they see us, he whispered, or rather attempted to whisper, his voice carrying more than he intended. His eyes, wide with mischief and glee, sparkled in the dim light.

As he slithered forward, he couldn't help but giggle, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. Shhh, Legend, he said between fits of laughter, we're on a secret mission. No one must know. He paused to dramatically peek around, ensuring no one was watching.

He continued his crawl, occasionally pausing to look back at Legend, his expression a mix of excitement and deadly seriousness. Come on, my lovely accomplice, he urged, his voice a theatrical stage whisper. We must retrieve the rabbits. Our feast awaits, and we shall dine like kings... or at least very well-fed peasants, he added with a throaty cackle.

Water formed in her mouth, and the dilation of her eyes could have frothed. “Ah! Ah!” The bag hit the ground, and she was soon in front of him, tongue swiping over the cloth of hide.

“Machi is a good chef,” a rich coat of blood subtly washed over her tongue. All the while, staring into the rich ivory of his eyes with an intense stare. “She is sure it to be good.” Behind him again then, resting. Machi would make it good.

Failure, a very far and few world for the fellahin. Failure, perhaps a broken world for the fellahin. And for the yaret, a beautiful land of white roses. Trickled from her mouth, a silent laughter as her nose was tickled.

Feline, she stood, bounding with each sway to his step, falling into place with his highs, with his lows. Her spine curved, bended, stretched, and when it would lock to his sides, he would move away once more. A pull and give, and she would follow the moth of his flame. Often times, swept to his front, nudging the underside of his chin with her nose, a clip of her teeth in playful goads, before falling behind again.

“Here?” Machiavelli stumbled backwards, and from behind, she lurked forward with kyanite eyes slipping over his shoulder. The remnants of the bag, dumped into the pool.

The angel-man turned, curling around her frame as her nose chased his features. Gone, he was, slipping away in a devils laughter. The other devil laughed back. Chasing the snake of his tail, soon upon the ground in a dive. “Shhhh,” she mimicked. And the accomplice followed.

“Show, before they come,” her nose pushed him forward. Faster, faster! A play, and a taunt, and still a title he then was crowned, “King.”

No, no, no, the man rebuked, tapping cat's paw to the woman's head, Not for beasties. With a gentle shove, he pushed her back behind him, holding her in place with the possession of a dragon claiming his horde, a hind paw acting as his loyal sentry. Mine, he finished sternly, meeting the imp's stare with his own dinner-plate gaze. Rabbit is hers.

When no more compliments befell him, he turned sullenly, a pout forming on his lips like a dark cloud threatening a nice summer's day. If nothing else, he guessed he was a good chef, though the lack of praise left him melting to the ground like a deflating balloon.

He stumbled through his pit-fall path unafraid of the bubbling pools that threatened to engulf him, for if he strayed too close, Legend would be there to guide him back to safety, and it was under her teasing corrections he would stay until his belly met the sturdiness of the earth.

King?, he echoed with a swish of his tail, hmm, I think not. I'm not that old yet, you cougar, he teased, batting her lightly before slithering away into the prairie grass.

When the grass swept overhead like great silver towers, Machi gave up his sneaking. And so the devil would regrow his wings and leap featherlight into the air as he passed over the lofty foliage as a patchwork dolphin over moon-woven waves.

“Greedy!” She hissed!

Machi would not share! Greedy, greedy man!

Swatted, her eyes winced and she scrunched her head away roughly. Crinkled nose, squishy eyes. Cougar, and her tongue suddenly fell out in a disgusted plummet. Somehow, he lost all of appeal in a single second. Just enough to earn his own swat of a hand, landed upon his face, and perhaps if she pushed down hard enough, it might drive a memorable scar through his skin. If only it had not been as gentle as a rodents touch.

He glided over the foliage, and it was under it in the movement of deepened shadows, shifting grass, that her figure could be tracked. Mink-like, before his feet would crash down next to hers, and he would leave her once more to see over the rivers of grass. A ceiling of moonlight opened up, and closed once more. 

Oh? He purred, flinching away from her swat. Did you not like that, my twitchy, witchy, tawny darling? he crooned, he crooned, leaning in with a mischievous grin that could hardly contain his delight in teasing her. Nip at my neck all you want, it won't change the fact that you're old enough to be my grandmother, the villain smirked. Revenge tasted sweeter than honey and was worth twice as much!

With a theatrical flourish, he pranced away, leaving her to nip at his ankles as he floated over swaths of spun silver. His feathery coat gathered around him in great heaps before being pulled back to earth in a cascade of movement. Each bound left the man convinced he was the epitome of elegance, swimming among the stars in a display of the dangers of inebriated confidence.

And then something caught his eye, a glint in the twilight, and the comet was veering off course. He called out to Legend in willowy tones as he left the sea of tall grass and ventured into the shorter plains.

Legend’s approach was slow, measured, her belly brushing against the ground as she crept forward, eyes fixed on Machiavelli with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. She moved as a shadow, drawn toward the peculiar gleam in his gaze and the promise of whatever secret he guarded so zealously. She paused just behind him, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Her head tilted, gaze narrowing as she cautiously leaned closer, the warmth of his presence mingling with the scent of herbs and game.

With a breath into the soft air, she inched her nose over his shoulder. "What is it that we getting?" she murmured. Her voice was hushed, reverent. She let her gaze flicker to his eyes, her curiosity barely restrained with the patience of a predator waiting for its prize. She fantasized lovingly about being prey.

There was a playfulness in the way she lingered near him, her form practically molding into the shadows he cast, ready to follow wherever this fun game might lead.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: drug use

This, Machi announced with a sly grin, his eyes gleaming as he trotted up to a cluster of trees draped in thick, serpentine vines, is the secret.

See these? he asked, casting a glance at Legend before deftly plucking one of the pods and cracking it open. A small cascade of seeds spilled into his waiting paw, their dull surfaces catching the faintest glimmer of light.

When I still lived in— Machi hesitated for a fraction of a second, catching himself before continuing smoothly, Before I came to the palace, I met someone who used these to ease visions during rituals, he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia as he carefully separated the seeds with a pale-pink nail, his movements near reverent.

A look of contentment softened his features, and his tail wagged lightly between his haunches. I’m rather glad I found them, Machi remarked, his tone brightening. They help keep the buzzing away fantastically, he added, tapping a nail lightly against his temple, a knowing smile playing on his lips as if he was letting Legend in on a well-kept secret. And they do wonders for your mood, he continued, I feel quite a bit better, actually.

Coiling around Machiavelli's frame, a tail brushed the back of his legs. This, Machi said. Is the secret. The vines parted way and they soon entered to be enshrouded by them. A pod hit the ground, and verdant jewels spilled like diamonds from the capsule. Moonlight covered them, and their scent was so burning it made her wish to drag a million nails across the bridge of her muzzle until blood stopped spilling.

A whisper bloomed from her lips. "Ritual," she repeated. A front foot stepped back-- away from the stinging, the screeching smell up her nose and its innocent gleam blinding her eyes. It was Machiavelli's swaying tail brushing her that brought her forward again. That muzzle tilted and those eyes turned to the mans words, intent on hearing all of them.

"Does he miss where he used to live?"

Looking towards the open seed pod, the demons head submitted to bowing towards them to give a cautious sniff. It still.. Burned, yes. The underside of Machiavelli's chin was stroked by a soft muzzle. "The place of.. Visions?" At the mention of vision, the seed pod blurred in Legend's own, sick.

A secret.

Machiavelli's chin, brushed once more.

"Akashingo is scarce of them." Against the corner of Machi's lips, they were spoken into. A smile curved there, and then those delicate eyes fluttered with a gutteral pain. "The buzzing, it has ended?" Nothing had put an end to her own. An inky paw had placed over two of the spilled seeds, and felt them between the crevices of each pad.

No, Machi responded firmly, his tone suddenly quite sober. There are parts I miss... certain people, perhaps. But no, I do not miss it. His gaze shifted toward her, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her examine the seeds with a mixture of curiosity and disgust.

Yes, for now, he conceded, a hint of resignation in his voice. The pain had indeed receded for the moment, but Machiavelli was not naive enough to believe this reprieve would last. The man was all too aware that the quiet in his mind came with a price—a promise of the storm that would return tenfold when the effects wore off.

I’ll bring them back with us, he continued, determination hardening his voice. I can cultivate them, tend to them. They’re not addictive, and I suspect they’re safe, as long as the doses are small. Perhaps... perhaps they could even help others. He rolled the seeds thoughtfully in his palm, the faint clicking sound filling the space between them. Whether he was trying to convince Legend or himself was unclear.

His luminous eyes watched the jackdaw closely, observing her reaching for the seeds. Even now, in his elevated state, Machi instinctively lowered his paw, pulling it back from her face, away from her grasp. I don’t know what effects they might have once they wear off, he said softly, though his voice carried a note of warning as his gaze locked with hers. What’s safe for me might not be for you, my love.

It was @Senmut to trace her mind when she drugged herself for the first time.

Teeth clasped over a hanging pod, crushing it in her mouth. Seeds covered her tongue. And Legend wasn't sure if it was shame, or guilt, or then being unworthy of being held caged by those emerald eyes again. It was Eset and Khusobek's disappointment. It was Seth's love, and Toula's generosity.

She was allowed to be ruined for a moment and wish to have never left the Prince's chambers upon first entry. There'd have been no guts and carnage eating away in red at her head, nor eyes that roamed her for so long that she felt bile eat at her throat.

There were many that fell out the minks mouth, and the rest were crushed with snipping teeth.

Take it, Seth had told her.

To a better fantasy then where the sun hadn't yet reached her and the prince's arms were a more familiar numbness than what resided now.

A sneaky smile cheekily displayed on the demon. "Watch them break me." A challenge or an offer was not so clear, and did not matter any longer. That tail swished fast in wags, and then a pure, joyful laughter that could not contain itself. Connected for a moment, with rosy ears and light breath.

Machi’s paw shot up to stop her, but the jackdaw was quicker, and he realized her intentions only after it was too late. The pod had already disappeared between her clenched jaws, and now all she would find in his gaze was not concern, not any longer, but the detached scrutiny of a scientist observing his favorite lab mouse—chilled, analytical. His eyes flicked over her, calculating the time between her swallowing the last seed and the dilation of her pupils. A stark contrast to the usual warmth clearly evident in his gaze any time it was upon her—the woman he cared for so deeply.

But there was no reversing what had been done, no taking back the seed now traveling down her throat. He wouldn’t squander the fleeting effects of the flowers by fretting over side effects that might never come to pass.

If this breaks you, Legend, darling, then at least you’ll break in like company, he remarked, a wry smile curling his lips, and in the next breath, he took off, racing toward the rabbits and beyond them, the springs.

Tonight, they would feel alive, unburdened by titles, expectations, and memories of the past. This would be the night to race across the plains and scream at the moon, and they would enjoy it to the fullest.

Laughter poured out of the woman from how stupid it sounded! How it all was. The tips of her ears still burned in warmth, the bridge of her nose hot and fuzzy. That tail still spun around in wags with the softest, brightest laughs to pair! 

Really? Break her? Stupid sentence, and the ridiculousness of it was alarming! What could 'break' her that was not unwanted? Could better words not be picked? The yaret cracked her own self up and away, jaw trembling with each joyous, squeaky giggles while drugs sifted into the woman's stomach acid. Bubbling, nauseating, sickly.

Who cared really what they did or didn't do? 

It was the vision of disappointment in Senmut's eyes that almost dragged Legend to a stop.
And she didn't like how it felt to care about what another thought.

That same vision of disappointment issued the pet into a poor decision as if it would fix it.

Who decided it was poor?

"That is funny!" Said the yaret, before breaking out into a lightfooted sprint to cached rabbits and strong scented stews.

Seed pods were stored in the jaws of the woman with careful pressure, and they tumbled into the hotsprings again like hounds. Soon, sprawling out onto the hot stones to watch the bubbles rise.

She laughed! A bright, melodic sound that rippled through the air like sunlight glimmering on water. And he, unable to help himself, laughed with her, his heart lifting at the sound. How he loved when she laughed!

Their journey continued, first to the cache, where their task was swiftly completed, then onward to camp. The rabbits were delivered without a hitch, and soon they found themselves at the springs. The steam curled lazily into the cool air as the man checked his simmering soup, a savory aroma drifting through the clearing. Satisfied, he slid into the hot water beside Legend, the warmth soaking into his tired limbs.

As he glanced over at her, his eyes caught on grass seeds tangled in her fur. Without a word, he reached over, his touch gentle as he began plucking them free one by one. He moved with care, almost reverence. A soft tune hummed from his lips, low and content, carrying the quiet happiness of the moment.