“Maybe,” Onyx says, a noncommittal tilt of his head and shrug of one shoulder. He pushes forward into the strange field. “Maybe they wouldn’t even notice.”

He whistles, and Vatin changes his course, shooting through the underbrush and rushing out into the grass. Onyx is a few feet behind him when he gets the instinctual urge to look up and realizes he can’t see Ziadem above them. The sky has taken on an odd, rainbow, soap-bubble hue.

It’s enough to make him pause. For a moment, he’s back in the distortion, with Gerald Kaiser, and there’s a fucking Ursaring about to bite into him.

He balls his fists enough to make his knuckles crack, turning to look back at Andres. A beacon. A light. A pillar of realness in a place that is just nonsensical enough to be unsettling and not nearly enough to be fun.

“We should stick together.” Because as terrifying as it is to imagine the distortion that had tore him to pieces and cost him his eye it was a thousand times scarier to imagine Andres was the one getting hurt.

[attr="class","membot"]andres buenaventura mission: clefable in the feywilde

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

Onyx grins, nose wrinkling. “You read my mind. I was gonna suggest that. But only the Netflix part.” He stacks a pillow behind his upper back and tugs the blankets up in the same measure. “Do you have a remote, or is this Chromecast, or what’s the situation here?”

After a beat he flattens his feet to the bed and flexes his hips, lifting them both up so he can fish one hand underneath Andres and undo his jeans, pushing them down. “Don’t get excited, now. No way I’m letting you around my junk, Coughy McCougherson. Jus’ getting comfortable."

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
Cuddle monster engage

He does not hold back. And it isn’t, you know, one for the record books, what with his injures and the way Andres fucks with his mind just by existing. But by nature of it possibly being the last time they’ll ever get to do this-- with anyone, let alone each other-- it’s pretty spectacular.

Onyx lays down next to him and nuzzles into the side of his neck, one hand splayed over Andres’ right pec.

“Do you think we’ll know it?” he asks, voice little more than a mumble; dreamy, over-warm, and sated. “When we die?”

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
bottoms up lets go round 2

Chuchi leads them on, her snuffling through the undergrowth reminding Onyx of a wild pig. She’s much less affected by the press of nature than her trainer-- Onyx reaches up to pluck a twig that’s gotten snagged on Andres’ jacket and toss it to the ground.

“Who names their kid Rodric?” he muttered under his breath, pausing to peek under a thick bush at a crumpled cardboard box and smattering of trash.

“No, like…” he trails off, walking around the squat tree to look beyond. There’s an open field of tall grass, waist-high or higher, and it rolls in the wind.

Except.

“The wind is blowing from that direction,” said, pointing; and if to illustrate, a gust comes and blows his hair back away from the nape of his neck. The field of grass, meanwhile, is bending in the opposite direction-- away from them. “So if the wind is coming at our faces, how is the grass moving away from us?”

[attr="class","membot"]andres buenaventura mission: clefable in the feywilde

[attr="class","memboc"]☉

“Yeah, you will,” he growls, turning his head so his ear was resting on the curve of Andres spine, “when you’re better.” He grabbed a box of tissues within arm’s reach and plopped them on the blankets on Andres legs.

“What do we got for entertainment in this bitch?” he asks, leaning back against the pillows and the head of the bed and coaxing Andres to do the same, just, on top of him.

[attr="class","mintag"] andres buenaventura
Cuddle monster engage