Event Log: Party Royale

[hadrielmods]

Who: All characters participating in the event
What: The event log for the Party Royale event
Where: All over the city!
When: September 22nd-29th
Warnings: Paintball, loss of consciousness, and partying!

As is par for the course in Hadriel, at some point throughout the day- waking up, making breakfast, doing laundry- you find an item. This isn't just any item though, it's a tried and true paintball gun, shining and just waiting to be picked up. This gun never runs out of ammunition, never malfunctions, and almost always hits the target that you're aiming at, so say hello to your new best friend for the next week.

Touching or picking up the gun will fill you with a competitive surge, which will likely increase when you find the note that's left with it, saying nothing more than be the last one standing. With instructions like that, how could you lose?

Well, you could lose if someone else shoots you. But never fear, there's a plan for that too! Even if you embrace the throes of unconsciousness, the gods have got your back and will eventually teleport you into a grand party where prizes will be handed out based on how long you survived. Awesome! At this party is also the traditional copious amounts of food and drink, as well as everyone's favorite goddess Delight and everyone's slightly-less-favorite goddess Rage!

Happy paintballing, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

► This log covers September 22nd-29th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If you fall and break your neck or something because you can't die in paintball, please let us know here.

Comments

[tongueamok]

There's silence for a several seconds, no answer for Glacius' metaphysical signals. Perhaps it's because Carlisle has drunk himself into a stupor, or perhaps he's asleep. Perhaps he's been knocked unconscious himself, having fallen to the gods' game at the hands of someone else's gun. It could be a number of things, but the truth is, thankfully, more benign.

Carlisle stirs from his spot on the floor of his cabin in the garden, his glasses askew, hair as frazzled as the rest of him. The past several days have been some of the most turbulent he's ever experienced, his mind turning on him more and more with every passing second -- with no one there to pull him from the edge, he's let himself be swept away by self-degradation and disgust. Why hadn't he been able to awaken Glacius? Just when he'd thought he might be a worthy partner after all, he failed his alien friend -- and for said failure, had Glacius taken from him. Though he could still feel his partner through the Mote, he couldn't find him within the city. He was gone.

Just as it should be for a twice-cursed.

And that thought just about destroyed Carlisle Longinmouth. He has a man who had failed to die, failed his family, failed his goddess -- and now, he'd failed the one person he cared for more than any other. What did he have left?

Liquor, for one. Without Glacius at the apartment, Carlisle couldn't bear to stay among, and so he'd taken some of his plants and the rabbit to the cabin, stopping along the way to pick up a bottle of something potent enough to drown out his misery. It would be so much more effective than tea, he told himself. He'd be welcoming back an old friend who had gotten him through a lot of dark times.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd spent nights writing, meditating, ranting and raving among the trappings of a life they'd been building together, but Carlisle hadn't yet succumbed to temptation. He had, however, given into exhaustion a time or two, hence his position on the floor when something from the back of his mind rouses him. For just a second, he'd thought he'd heard Glacius -- the alien's voice isn't clear, and it's likely a delusion, he tells himself. That's what happens in the panic-ridden mind of a desperate man. He remembers seeing figures when his father died, shadows where his uncles used to linger when they vanished into the night.

It's when Carlisle hears Glacius' voice again, clearer now, that he wonders if he truly is going mad. He pulls himself off the floor, pawing at his eyes -- they burn, so dry from his sobbing. Another reason for disdain he will apply later.

He doesn't know how to answer, aside from aloud. "G... Glacius?"

[glacius]

Though talking aloud could aid in communication via the metaphysical link now established between them, it requires clear intent to open said link, focus that Carlisle's grief-addled mind isn't currently offering--nor is the endeavor helped by the fact that his knowledge of the Mote is in its infancy. Glacius might not be able to get the specific inquiry that his partner makes, but he can feel the clergyman grasping around for him, reacting to his presence of mind... and that's enough. Just knowing that his Bondmate is out there, alive but alone, is enough to get the alien to redouble his efforts as he tries to find his way back to him.

I'm here, the bridge thrums with the alien's determination and longing. I don't know if you can hear or understand me, but... I'm coming. I just need to find you. Can you picture in your mind where you are? The apartment, maybe? Or the shed in your garden?

[tongueamok]

Carlisle shudders as he feels the thrum within him, and is so sure he is losing his grip on himself again. It would not be the first time in the past few days that he's struggled with his own energies; when the rest of him is too entrenched in his despair to focus, he cannot possibly maintain control over them. It has been that way his entire life, and is one reason he prefers seclusion.

Preferred, that is. Things are so different now.

He feels longing, feels need -- his head throbs. A drink would stifle all of that, drown out everything: his thoughts, his fears, his despondence and the encroaching madness that feeds upon him. Twice-cursed tend to lose themselves to their affliction, but he has staved it of so far, dulling the effects by tempering himself with alcohol.

"I said I wouldn't."

He made that promise to someone whose presence he can feel, but who is entirely absent. His chest aches, and he doesn't yet know how to seek the solace he so craves from the Mote. It's easier to turn to what's familiar. That's what he's always done. Grabbing the bottle from the table, he sinks back to the floor, down, down. The glass is cool in his fingers, inviting only because he associates such a chill with the icy armor of his partner. Just one drink won't hurt. Something to take the edge off the remorse impaling his heart.

"I said I wouldn't."

Through his heartache, he feels something as familiar as disappointment: disgust. It is white-hot, a fire compared to the melancholy that has suffocated him for days now. He can drink all he wants to extinguish it, yet the smoldering embers will always remain long after the intoxication is gone. Despite that, the temptation is still there, still urging him to drink... and as he uncaps the bottle, he's not sure whether he'd rather feel emotionally encumbered or inebriated.

[glacius]

The aid that Glacius is seeking never comes; instead, Carlisle drops off the link, his searching washed away by a wave of... something. The alien is having a hard time distinguishing without a clearer connection, but it feels a lot like disgust and despair, which wrenches at his hearts and makes it hard to focus on what he needs to. The otherworldly being curses weakly, rubbing at his forehead, his head pounding and his senses dull from the time he's spent unconscious. He is feeling too bad to have to figure everything out on his own right now.

And yet, he has to. It was his fault that he was pried apart from Carlisle, leaving him to battle with whatever is troubling him alone now; it is his responsibility to find his way back to his partner now. Glacius pauses, closing his eyes and trying to sort himself out from the pain and confusion clogging up his thought process; he can only hope he understands and knows his partner well enough to figure out where he might be. Would the clergyman stay back at the apartment even after he mysteriously vanished? Or would the loneliness push him outward, trying to find solace elsewhere?

There's always the shed in the garden, Glacius considers. Carlisle has often retreated there in times of stress or fright... and it isn't too far out of his way. If the clergyman is not there, then he can double back to the apartment... and if he's not there, well, then things get more difficult. At least the alien can tell that his partner is alive, though there's no telling whether or not he's been left injured and stranded... though pain and fright would probably be more prevalent if he were. Either way, it's clear that the clergyman isn't doing well, and it's his duty as a Bondmate to be there for him, so the alien sets off, urgency spurring him to move more quickly than his normal steady pace.

It still takes him some time to make it over to their garden nestled away in the park, though he tries to compensate by sending repeated pings across their link, hoping Carlisle might snatch onto one and take reassurance from it... but the clergyman will get that either way when Glacius finally makes it to the shed and knocks solidly on the door.

"Carlisle, are you in there? Are you alright? I tried to reach you, but without my communications device, it only left me with methods that are less familiar to you..."

[tongueamok]

Glacius barely makes it through his question before the door flies open, revealing a disheveled Carlisle on the other side. His eyes are wide with the terror that comes when one cannot tell if he's truly awake, or simply facing a hallucination of a desperate mind; through the tears welling in them is the glow of agitated energy. Beyond him, the room is a mess, strewn with notes and journals, heavy with the smell of liquor.

Though he hesitates for a second or two, Carlisle reaches for Glacius' scar and, upon feeling the chill from the alien's icy layer, he breaks. His teeth grind as he chokes on his breath; he wraps his arms around his partner, holding onto him as though he has no other respite from the anguish that has tormented him for days now.

And perhaps he doesn't, if the state he's in is any indication.

Carlisle cannot even begin to question what Glacius has gone through; he cannot even wonder if Glacius truly died and was revived, or if he was simply stolen in his unconscious state. The clergyman's entire body shakes as his limbs tighten in the embrace, fingers curling against the ice, scratching at it as though it'd convince him that this was not some mere specter: Glacius has been returned to him.

"I- I tried, Glacius," he sputters. "I tried to wake you. I- I tried for days!"

[glacius]

Glacius is surprised when the wooden door flies open, and has only a moment to take in his partner's utterly distraught appearance before Carlisle flings himself at him, throwing his arms around the alien and hugging him tightly. Though the clergyman has always grown openly desirous of his affection throughout their time together, this is another level entirely that Glacius has not seen; the human's nails scrabble at the his icy layer, hurting only the alien's hearts as he realizes just how long he's been apart from his partner, and how badly that has shaken him.

"It was that long?" the alien asks, horrified by the revelation. He wraps his arms tightly around the clergyman, holding him tight, trying to reassure him. "Carlisle, I'm sorry. I never meant to leave you for that long. I promised that you would never have to go through anything alone, but I allowed me emotions to get the better of me and acted recklessly.. and we both paid the price for it. I just--I didn't want to be used to hurt you, my partner. I couldn't live with myself if I had, but... I don't think I'll be able to forgive myself for what you went through as a result of my foolishness, either."

Glacius sighs, hanging his head; his nasal cap brushes against the top of Carlisle's hair--normally so neat and tidy, now as disheveled as the rest of him. His fault. "... Let me try and make it up to you. What do you need? What can I do to make it better?"

[tongueamok]

"This isn't your fault," Carlisle chokes out; he leaves off his usual bout of self-blame, though it is apparent through his heavy tone. Why hadn't he been able to wake Glacius? He asks himself that for the umpteenth time; the answer is always the same. He wasn't good enough. He should have done more.

He buries himself against the alien, afraid to let go of him for fear that he'd vanish. "I d- don't want you to make it up t- to me," he murmurs as he struggles to catch his breath. "I just... want you to be. I fear you are a figment of my mind l, that I will awaken on the floor and find you stolen from me once again. I- I don't know how they took you from me so quietly. I slept f- for only a moment, and you were gone. I- I should not have closed my eyes."

Even Carlisle seems to realize how impossible a task that is, but his frustration knows no end when it comes to his own doubts.

[glacius]

"It isn't your fault, either," Glacius replies softly, knowing that just because Carlisle isn't verbalizing his self-blame doesn't mean he isn't experiencing it. He's had years upon years of being left to wrongly internalize fault for things, after all. The alien tries for a reassuring croon as his partner buries himself against him, rubbing at his back soothingly. "You watched out for me the entire time. You're probably the only reason I survived long enough to wake up again, Carlisle. If I had passed out anywhere else in this city, who knows what could have happened to me... so thank you. Thank you for helping me, as you have always done. I love you. Alright? You're enough. You have always been enough."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle shakes his head, his face still against Glacius' chest. "Thank you for keeping your promise... for returning to me."

He remains there another several seconds before his embrace finally relaxes. His hand slips from his partner's back along his arm, clasping at Glacius' palm as he tugs against it, hoping to coax the alien inside. Though Carlisle has clearly been staying at the shed-turned-cottage, it's arguable just how much he's been living there: the pages all around the room are scrawled with notes and glyphs of every sort, most of them not in Carlisle's usual, minute print, but instead in a panicked scrawl; his mugs of tea are abandoned on the table, several half-full; the bed is still made, but the covers have clearly been disturbed as he slept atop of it rather than within.

And on top of all of that is the thick odor of alcohol. Whether he had any to drink is still unsaid, but the main source is clear: the shattered remains of a bottle lying along the far wall, something he likely hurled -- as he has done before -- in a fit of rage.

Carlisle takes a seat on the bed, sinking into the furs as though his guilt weighs him down. "It was madness, Glacius," he starts, his voice devoid of emotion as he paws at his eyes again. He's felt enough to last a lifetime. "They- they treated it like a game. They were... so callous."

[glacius]

"Of course. I will always find my way back to you," Glacius murmurs, slipping one hand up to thread through Carlisle's mussed hair, trying to tease its strands out to something a little straighter. He keeps up his gentle ministrations as his partner gradually relaxes, only stopping when the clergyman takes his hand and leads him inside the shed.

The alien wastes no time casting a look around, but what immediately grabs his attention is, of course, the prevalent stench of alcohol. To his surprise, he finds it coming mainly from a broken bottle, the mark it has left against the wall and the spread of shards clearly indicating it was tossed there. Moreover, he couldn't smell much on Carlisle when the human came out to greet him--couldn't detect a hint of it on the clergyman's breath. Glacius has no doubt that he was tempted, but to think that he might have actually resisted it this time around instead of caving as he has in the past is... remarkably significant.

Sitting down right next to Carlisle and immediately extending one hand to cup his partner's cheek, Glacius is about to ask him about it when the clergyman speaks up himself. The alien silences himself and listens, frowning at even this bare recounting. "I can imagine. I felt it... the moment I picked up that gun. It wanted me to fight... to win, tugging at my muscles and my mind, calling me to... attack you." The ice alien pauses; his gills flutter and he shifts with horrific discomfort at the very thought. "I thought I was protecting you by destroying them, but instead I rendered myself unable to do that at all. Did anyone attack you? Are you injured in any way?"

[tongueamok]

Though a compulsion does explain some of the behavior of the people of Hadriel, Carlisle cannot find it in him to forgive those who were so flippant about it on the network -- those who would have readily shot at him or Glacius had either of them been on the street. Everyone might not have the experience with compulsions he does, nor the strength of will that Glacius bears, but Carlisle judges them all the same. Some would say he shouldn't, as clergy, but... well, he's not in the church, and this is not confessional. This was something that could have damned them all to a fate he'd consider worse than death.

He leans into Glacius' hand, relieved he returned. He's not sure his heart could bear the alien's permanent absence.

"I could feel that within you," he returns, his voice still emotionless. "Scrying your last moments, I could feel the influence of the gods over you, and your resistance, but I could not find a way to right what had been done to you. You protected me, and I could do nothing to help you. I- I stayed in the apartment until your body vanished. I hid, unable to bring myself to leave you. I feared you would melt away without my glyphs, or that a great beast would appear and rend us both from this life."

His nose wrinkles, his teeth bared as ire finally breaks through his impassive surface. "I feared for our lives, and people thought it a game, even when made aware of the gods' influence."

[glacius]

"I almost forgot you could do that--the scrying, I mean," Glacius blinks, then tucks his head back slightly, struck by an odd little surge of shame. "I'm... I'm sorry you felt that from me, even if it was just for a moment, and even if the urge was not my own. I know you said you felt this too, but I-- I didn't want to hurt you--I would never hurt you." And his actions no doubt showed that, given the lengths he went to keep himself from doing just that.

"I only wish that I could say the same for the rest of the miscreants that inhabit this wretched city," the ice alien continues on, his voice growing darker. He's apparently similarly incensed by people's willingness to play along with the god's machinations--but then, the thought of anyone making light of Carlisle's fright or worry while contributing more of it is enough to do that to him. It hits too close to home to foulness that the otherworldly being knows his partner has had to deal with already, both here and back . "You say you could do nothing to help me, but that's not true. You stayed with me the whole time. It was me who vanished... and thus, it was me who couldn't do anything to protect you from the madness spiraling down around you."

Glacius sighs, shaking his head, then lowers his head toward's his partners, trying to garner reassurance through a little nuzzle. "What happened may be the fault of the false gods... but I should have been there with you through this. I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone, Carlisle."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle shakes his head, his arms stiffening as his energies continue to boil beneath his skin. "Don't apologize. This- this wasn't your fault. You didn't want to hurt me, and you did everything you could to prevent that. I—"

He cuts himself off as he folds over, back into Glacius' arms, his own hands covering his face as he swallows the ink gathering in his throat. "I don't know what I'd have done if you'd never returned. I don't want to know. I... I don't want to think about it. I don't to think at all."

Carlisle sucks in a breath. "I- I considered it again. Drinking. It was easier than facing myself, pondering an existence without you in it."

[glacius]

Glacius curls his arms around Carlisle when the clergyman folds against him, flopping back the other way so that he effectively pulls the human over and on top of himself when he moves--and from there, he pulls his legs up and curls protectively around his partner. The alien strokes the human's face again, keeping his own head lowered so that there's not much space between theirs.

"But you only considered it, am I correct?" Glacius asks gently, offering his partner a reassuring smile. "Carlisle, I don't think I can state enough what a huge step forward that is. I know it took a lot of strength. It is so easy to do what is familiar, especially in times of duress... that you would hold to your promise to me shows not only loyalty and care, but great resolve as well. I am proud to see how you are growing, even though the universe has never stopped slinging hardships at you."

[tongueamok]

Despite the praise Glacius offers him, Carlisle feels only a minute sense of satisfaction in his accomplishment. He has been inundated in intense despair for a matter of days, and having finally found solace in Glacius' arms, grows increasingly numb in his emotional exhaustion.

"I don't feel resolve," he utters, his confession nearly lost as he curls against his partner. "I feel like I still want a drink. I feel tired, frustrated with my ineptitude. I feel unable to accept your kindness, as I see not the strength you so insist I have. I'd... I'd rather not feel anything at all, even if only for a moment."

Except his partner, perhaps. He places a hand along Glacius' chest, his touch tentative, as though the alien might vanish beneath his fingertips.

[glacius]

Glacius sighs, trying his very best not to be frustrated; he knows it isn't Carlisle's fault that his body and mind are working like this, that it's his addiction fighting him every step of the way throughout his recovery. "It will get easier," the alien murmurs, though he might be drawing from guesswork given that he's never had to recover from substance abuse. "And whether or not you feel it, resisting these sorts of temptations does take resolve and strength."

The otherworldly being pauses, then places a hand over Carlisle's--a sign of solidarity as much as it is a confirmation that yes, he's here, and he's not going anywhere. "Try not to sell yourself short... you are dong well, my partner."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle scoffs, his nose wrinkling. "I am doing well now, safe within your embrace, but you did not see me a day ago, a night ago -- even just an hour before this moment."

Not that that's Glacius' fault, but it is the truth of the matter. He's grateful in a way that his partner didn't have to witness him falling apart as he left the apartment, wasn't privy to his desperate prayers and destructive tantrums. He doesn't need liquor to feel a fire in his blood.

"Even now," he continues, softer as he presses his forehead to Glacius' hand, "I wonder if the desire I feel gnawing at my gut is from your absence, or but another way to hide myself from my concerns."

[glacius]

"We all have moments of difficulty, of weakness or despair," Glacius replies, "After all, you have seen mine time and time again--after Emily, after Kate--and did not judge me for them. No one can be strong all of the time, Carlisle, there is no shame in struggling. There is no shame in needing the support of another. None of this makes you any lesser."

The ice alien lets Carlisle rest against his hand, sweeping one big thumb over him reassuringly, though he stills in surprise when the clergyman lets that admittance slip. He'd been so focused on providing emotional comfort that the more physical aspects hadn't even occurred to him... but he isn't displeased.

"It could be both--and there is no shame in the latter, either. I can understand wanting some respite... and I can certainly understand wanting to be as close as we possibly can after days of absence," Glacius purrs. "I might have been unconscious for most of it, but I can still feel that longing... and if this is how I can make up for all of that, then I will do so gladly."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle looks to Glacius and tries to meet his gaze, his own eyes still red; the glow in them has faded for the moment, barely perceptible behind the glass of his spectacles. A part of him is embarrassed to seek such physical comforts, ashamed that he often finds more respite there than he does in even prayer. He doesn't need such earthly pleasures, he tells himself. Just his goddess and a drink to quiet his thoughts. He doesn't deserve such commodities as it is.

But in a way, that makes Carlisle want them more. They are forbidden because he is not worthy, and yet Glacius makes him feel otherwise when he'd rather feel nothing at all. It is with Glacius that he feels needed, and is truly alive. Perhaps that is one reason the alien's absence shattered him so: he'd been deprived of what life he'd found, what life sustained him. For a man straddling the line between life and death with his very existence, it was too much for his ill body to bear.

Well, Carlisle has Glacius now. He should cherish that life while he can. Time moves ever forward, after all.

"Take me from here, Glacius," Carlisle pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulls himself to meet the icy warrior's forehead with his own, one hand still resting on his broad chest.

[glacius]

To that, Glacius only lets out a pleased--and most certainly heated--rumble, wasting no more time. Carlisle has had to endure despair and suffering for days, and if this is his opportunity to soothe that over and make it up to his partner, then the alien is all too pleased to do so. If release his what the clergyman desires, then it is release he will get--so thoroughly that he cannot think at all, let alone think of what he's had to endure in his partner's absence.

No more absence; now is the time for closeness, and the bulky alien moves to pursue that immediately. He snakes one powerful arm underneath Carlisle and uses that to roll the human over onto his front, the soft padding of the furs providing him plenty of cushioning to lay in. From there, the clergyman will feel the alien's hands embracing him eagerly; one slips its fingers under his various layers to caress his scars, and the other supports the human's chin so that his alien can graze the length of his neck with his mandible. As soon as he's in place, his front settled over his partner's back, Glacius emits a fierce bout of purring--apparently he has missed this as much as Carlisle.

[tongueamok]

The thunderous purr rumbles through Glacius and into Carlisle, rolling up his spine from their points of contact; the clergyman gasps quietly his partner drags his mandible along his neck, the pale flesh there leaving a red trail as the tine presses into it. As the alien caresses his scars with one hand, Carlisle's own sinks into the furs beneath him, searching for purchase as he closes his eyes and tries to lose himself in sensation. It is a more pragmatic use of making love than Carlisle is sure Glacius would like, but—

Desth, he cannot ever admit aloud how much he missed this, lest the false gods -- or his goddess -- hear him and vow to take such pleasures away. He leans into Glacius, keeping his thoughts to himself; however, his body speaks for him. One hand remains on the furs for support as the other joins Glacius at his abdomen, helping guide his movements.

Though he doesn't know exactly how to use it -- certainly not for communication -- Carlisle can feel the Mote thrum within him, his energies riled along with the rest of his physical frame. There is that desire to be together, that need he has so much trouble putting into words: he feels them so strongly that he doesn't know if such urgent wants belong to himself or his partner.

What he does know is that he must allow them to devour him; he cannot sate them any other way.

[glacius]

Another gust of purring emanates from Glacius' core and rips through Carlisle when the alien feels the human's hand over his own, guiding him, wordlessly urging him to continue. That alone would be encouraging enough but then, then he feels it--the thrumming of the link between them as the clergyman's energies surge and course through their metaphysical Bond, meeting his own. Carlisle might not be experienced enough to discern where his desires end and the alien's begin, but the truth is inherent in the beauty of the Bond they share: here in the Mote there is no beginning, no end. Their is only union, a joining of souls so thorough they can feel and feed on each other's love and pleasure.

Playing to those raging desires, Glacius massages and fondles at those scars more intently before slipping his hand lower, curling it between his partner's legs--tucking his partner back against his own body more thoroughly and providing him more friction to work with at the same time. He loves holding Carlisle--in his hand, against himself-- as their desire mounts, and the only time he pulls his mandible away from the clergyman's neck is to switch to the other side so he doesn't scratch one long strip of muscle up too thoroughly. His partner wants to lose himself to this, and the otherworldly being is more than happy to help him along the way however he can, letting the trembling and rocking of the human's body and the sounds of his voice guide him.

[tongueamok]

Another gasp escapes Carlisle, heavier this time as the chill of Glacius' armor contrasts sharply with the heat welling in him. His fingers curl into the fur beneath him, grabbing a handful of fibers as his other hand goes to the neck of his sweater, pulling desperately at the zipper that runs down the front of it. It allows his skin to breathe as he sucks in a breath -- sharper now -- his body quivering as Glacius' hand at his loins draws a shudder from deep within him.

But it's not just carnal desire he feels: there is something else there, what Carlisle recognizes belatedly as Glacius' affection for him, felt through the Mote he now bears. His body, still worn from being so restless in Glacius' absence, pulls upon it immediately, reflexively: he feels energy flooding him as though he were grasping the Mote itself, but now it radiates from within... and all around him, in tandem with his lover beside him.

Carlisle wants more -- he wants to be closer, no matter how impossible it may seem. Releasing the fur gripped between his fingers, he leans upward and into Glacius, one hand on the alien's pawing at him, the other reaching for Glacius' side, trying to find somewhere to rest as his frame shakes, giving in more and more to the lustful rhythm between them.

"I- hn." He licks his lips and tries again. "I feel you, even- even without the Mote present. Is that- is that how this is supposed to hhh be?"

[glacius]

"Yes... yes!" Glacius replies, his voice a little louder than it needs to be the second time around due to delight. It's not just physical pleasure he's reveling in, though the feeling of Carlisle pushing back against him and clutching at him as his body and hands quaver is absolutely divine. He's overjoyed to feel his partner's energies reaching out to his, but moreover that the clergyman can understand this aspect of the Bond so readily.

The alien laughs breathily, his own voice wavering now as he fights for words in the middle of what is quickly rising up to become a moan. "The Mote is... always present, Carlisle, even if it is n-not manifested. You and I... we are joined. There is a comfort and a pleasure in that, is there not? I have always hoped that I could share... exactly how it is that I feel about you."

[tongueamok]

Carlisle chuckles quietly. "M- mostly pleasure at the -- ah -- at the moment."

He will have to save any further quips for another time, his voice steadily breathier as he closes his eyes and tries to focus not just on the physical sensations between them, but the metaphysical ones, as well. The energy churning through him is on the rise, but it is more akin to the relaxing waters of a hot bath than the frigid temperatures he usually associates with Glacius; however, he assumes that may be the heat welling in his body, boiling in his abdomen and beyond, that is coloring his perception. Though it stings as it runs along the scars on his arms, he makes no move to stop it from reaching out for Glacius, the current drawn toward the alien's own pathways on its own much like the energy in a glyph completing its circuit.

What he feels is, perhaps, akin to a glyph activating, as well. There's that slight searing behind his eyelids, the electric tingle of power at his fingertips as vitality surges through him. Carlisle leans his head back against his partner, his mouth agape as he struggles for air; the incredible sensation threatens to pull him under, but he manages to stay afloat for now, albeit with a quiet moan of Glacius' name.

It isn't just what they do that brings him respite, Carlisle realizes; it is who he does it with. He cannot find such comfort with anyone but Glacius, would want no other being but his partner to caress his body in such a way. They are both so intensely private as individuals, but revel in one another's company. They have seen each other's weaknesses; they have seen each other's successes. Though seeking refuge in carnal desires, it is not the mere desperation to keep each other, but the love between them that gives them strength.

"Desth," he swears under his breath. "My- my heart feels as though it might explode."

He doesn't know if that's normal either, but he doesn't want to stop and ask.