with briar this close, his body pressed to his, sunday almost forgets that they shouldn't be more than just confidants and coworkers. yet in the vacant room, save for them, who would tell them otherwise? he leans close to speak softly to the slightly shorter halovian, perhaps still afraid someone might overhear them, and the spell would be broken. "well, you've got me now, my magpie. lead the way."

music plays from a corner of the room, a gentle melody, one that encourages something just as gentle as it's notes are. step by easy step, focus split between his own heels- and the one who's hand rests in his. who leans close enough to speak against his ear. this is reality; he well and truly cannot see, there is no dream to help him see. no crutch to lean on, trusting that sunday will ensure he doesn't pull them into a chair or a shelf or---

" if i step on your feet, you'd better not complain. " only half joking. he doesn't lead in dance for a reason. metal heels tapping heavily against the floor, as he picks up on the next rise in tune. the motion delicate, and careful-- it's easy to get lost in this sort of thing. so he demands trust, trust he finds himself effortlessly placing in sunday as much as it is being placed in him. ah... thank goodness they're somewhere quite and alone. where propriety and face count for very little. it gives him the boost he needs to maintain good tempo and rhythm. to enjoy it without fear of someone seeing, or a slew of questions. it'd certainly sour the mood hm?

and perhaps. one day, when he can see properly-- he will be able to lead with more confidence. dance is a wonderful thing. he doesn't sing, but he plays; he lets himself feel music more than he can ever express it with his voice.

so lost in it then, that briar narrowly misses a trip, pulling himself closer. hand at sunday's back gripping his jacket. a smooth enough transition, and not as awkward as he thought it was bound to be. their difference in height isn't substantial.

" want to continue? " head cocking far to one side, his hands still kept on the other. fingers curling a bit tighter around his hand. " willing to push off our obligations so you can waste time like this? very irresponsible of you~ "

unprompted

“ this world will die screaming. ”   🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ u know who

      they could not be any more different.  susa/noo is violence embodied, he understands that now. and briar, is willing to bend for another, to break his own back if it means he can avoid conflict. what is they say?  opposites attract? yes, well, regardless of his feelings he fears he cannot allow such a sentiment to take form. because, as briar has come to learn rather quickly--  they do not say things just to say them. and perhaps;  he sees it here, a way out.  to be whisked away like a damsel in distress. aeons know he's fantasized about it enough in the time they've been around one another--

" i have a better idea. " gentle words, a gentle tone. and an even gentler hand, taking their own to lace their fingers together. " we can just leave. who'd stop you? just take me with you right now. "

it'd be so easy. and as guilty as it feels to abandon his promises, it feels worse to allow susa/noo to follow through on a promise like that;  because he will. and they've spoken about it before anyway. briar's wanted to leave for so long;  torn between devotion and a desperate need to be done with it.  " right now... " a muttering, as he moves both arms to wrap around their middle. pushing his face against the center of his chest.  " i don't need to get anything, don't need to tell anyone. please... "

one of those horror game prompts

“ people think they can hide it but they can't, not from me. ” sunday at briar... idk what he's talking about u decide

      hand rests on the back of his chair, fingertips tapping gently along the edge. a nod follows the other's proclamation;  so determined. of course they can't,  of course not. he'd just been here to share some of his findings with him, when he'd gone off on a tangent. again-  a behavior he's long since grown accustomed to, despite how strange it seems sometimes. ah the pressures of leading. sunday's desire for control couldn't be helped, and briar did his best to respect it.  whatever had happened... it must of gone off quite well? or maybe not. " did something happen? " he asks, gently so, as if skirting around a cliff's edge. " aside of course from everything else already happening- you seem to be on edge. "

alone / @oneireth

" you've been spraying them with water. " its a statement , sans accusation when the truth of it rings clear in one of the goldlings perched on the god's shoulder. another leisurely sat atop their head as amusement rears its head in depths of burnt gold , " they have done nothing but complain to me about how mean one briar moon is. " locutions pause , tiers curling as a hand reaches for knuckles to graze against his cheek , shifts to plumes with a hum. " i'm asked to implore you to reconsider. "

     traitors, all of them.  briar stands by his choice in punishment however, as it is the only proper way to make the three of them see reason. if susa/noo only knew;  how naughty their little goldlings were. or...  maybe, briar thinks, he does know and simply chooses not to see it that way. a god, capable of such violence ( he's seen it in bursts before, it is quite the spectacle ), bent wholly by the little felines they have wordlessly dubbed their children.   " they only get sprayed with water when they misbehave. "

expression unreadable, the glint of his glasses mirroring their faces back to them. though, he cannot help the slight tilt of his head when they reach for him. then, the halovian takes their hand in his, holds it. it's a sweet gesture but...  it will not change the facts.  " wont even finish their own food before they're off trying to steal one another's.  --  and if they think using you is going to do anything, they're very sorely mistake.  tsk-  i think you spoil them too much... "

unprompted

“ we have to get out of here. ” ratio @ briar :)

      " you sound a bit anxious. " briar replies, cheery despite the 'stress' of the current situation. and, to emphasize how little he has to worry over, he leans back and kicks his legs up. metal heels resting over one another atop it's clean surface.  " you're welcome to leave without me of course-- and if you get lost in here, i'll be sure to find you. promise. " though, a ringed hand reaches as his body leans, to tap the seat next to his.  " or you can sit down, and wait it out. "

outlast 2

❛ you can do whatever you want to me. ❜ + [ LINGER ] * your muse gives my muse lingering touches. / moonhill :)

      sheets tangle around his waist, leg curled up that his thigh rests just against boot/hill's side. touch is important to him, as essential as eyes are for seeing, as a tongue is for tasting. and there is so much here to 'see', to feel beneath every digit. his palm raises, and fingertips are gentle at first. slow and purposeful, to recall every place where a piece of segmented metal meets another. these are things he's been told don't matter. but they do, for him they do. then, as he reaches the dip of his waist, he lets his hand rest there. silent as his head sways slightly to one side. clearly he's been making some kind of face--   

❛  you can do whatever you want to me. ❜    a pause.  trust is a heady thing, especially when it's given so freely, without hesitation. still difficult sometimes to believe how far they've come;  that maybe one day briar will wake up, and return to his routine. to promises he made, so reliant on his own devotion for stability.

" anything i want... "  he murmurs back, low and considering.

and despite not actually being able to see him, briar turns the small amount needed to face him. following the direction of his own hand, as it steadily moves downwards. " anything at all. " it's a suddenly rush of heat to his belly, as he thinks for a moment about all the things he'd like to do.  not all of which are too explicit to even consider aloud ( though he might anyway ). and--  before his hand goes too much further, it stops. low on a belly that they cannot feel--  to shift his position, that he may lean over easier. casting him in his shadow, as he presses a kiss to his cheek. lingering there, to smile against it.

then a gentle inhale, fighting the temptation to bury his face in his hair.  " i'd like to feel you. " though arousal still simmers in his core, he makes no real move to do anything for it. content to let it be, to let it keep him warm.  " we can do so much more, later...  but right now all i want is this. "  and finally, fingers brushing back the other's hair, he seals it with a proper kiss. languid, easy, lazy as they both felt-- happily allowing himself to be lost in slow intimacy of another.

sexual tension... / @mythkiss

[ STRIPTEASE ] * my muse gives your muse a show as they take off their clothes. + ❛ why don’t you come a little closer? ❜ / moonhill >:)

      his jacket is about to his elbows when he hears him; a tempting suggestion. in a raspy tone that wraps around his mind like heavy smoke, making his thoughts hazy. head turns to the source, and... really, there's no need to see. not when he knows from touch alone how he probably looks right now.  ( though perhaps, one day, he will get to see.  sight makes all the difference to him now, and despite his freedom he misses that dreamy, framed vision )  coat is temporarily laid over the nearest surface, a railing, a table, a chair, it doesn't matter. revealing form fitting attire-- which accentuates the curves of his lithe frame.

then, briar hums a low silky note, glasses glinting in the light, as thumbs run the dark line of his suspenders. down and to his back, where the waistband clips tight around his middle.  " so you can do this yourself...? " a teasing chime in his tone. and it too joins one piece of clothing, as others will soon after. " i don't think so. "

fingers usually so deft, and effortless in his own dress--  are slow. painfully precise. intentionally drawn out, as if he might be trying to see who will break first. confident this time, as silence draws between them, and he divests himself of more... and more.

shirt hangs open, disheveled, hanging crooked from his shoulders, pants open.

and it is like this, he finally moves closer-- retrieving the articles he's removed. setting them next to the other with an easy expression. clearly pleased with himself. content with no cheeky remark, or witty line---  

" want to finish then? "

sexual tension... / @mythkiss

[ WALL ] + ❛ i can’t stop thinking about you. ❜ sunday @ briar :)

      it happens before he has any real chance to brace himself for it. quick to swallow down the curse that threatened to leave his lips, as his back is pushed against the wall. sunday really should be more careful.  a jest he might of made, had he not suddenly found his every sense enveloped by the other. a scent usually so subtle, was overbearing now--  and a leg between his, keeps him from squirming for the sheer enjoyment of it.    " ah...? "   letting his body rest more between them. palms pressed against the surface behind him. this may be the dream, but briar's gaze remains shut. a play at aloofness, elusive in his thoughts and feelings.

the confession is low, with a steadiness that briar is familiar with.

but the delivery doesn't matter;  it's the contents. an admittance that he has so wholly encompassed their mind. " risky place for something like this... don't you think? " a jest, in part. really, if he'd had an issue then he'd of slipped away already. and how likely was it that anyone would roam this specific hall?  slim. but, he feels a well of confidence rise in him. a decision to make:  so with a hum, he reaches up and gives sunday a gentle tap on the cheek. " very unlike you to be this impatient. " head cocks quite far to one side.  " -- you'll have to wait. "

sexual tension... / @oneireth

@mythkiss asked: " someone’s having a laugh . " / boothill to briar !

      index raises to rest over his own lips-- a playful gesture, as his laughter dwindles for the moment. briar shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. a small tilt of his head preceding a sing song reply;  " well... yes! have i told you yet? you're very funny. " a compliment delivered with a charming smile, and another low chuckle. it's true, briar found himself entertained and endeared in equal parts. for every one thing the other seems to find in himself to dislike, briar can find a dozen things he admires.  and with a hum, he leans closer-  reaching out with astonishing accuracy , so he can give boothill's cheek a gentle pinch. " i like you so much haha. "

old prompt

@oneireth asked: we're entwined. ( also sunday at briar 👀 )

      fingers are laced together with his, closed around his palm. briar is sure he could pull away if he tried, but he feels compelled somewhat to leave it. touch has always, in some way, been a necessity for him. anyone close to him in any capacity-- would know this too. and so he wonders if maybe there is a deeper meaning behind what sunday's just said.  entwined.  the word sparks thought of harmony, of belonging..  or destiny and fate. this implication is enough to make him still, to wish he could see whatever expression the other is wearing.

sunday was a very well spoken individual, precise, deliberate, to the point. it was what made working with him so pleasant. or was it in part the harmony's will that made it so? not a lack of control, but an unspoken and unseen thread, tied where they could not see? briar never doubted his path, believed xipe's will was just. but it was difficult to believe in things like that. he's more keen to rely on things like luck.

" what do you mean? " he asks, expression and emotion carefully shown. giving the other nothing;  sunday speaks plain, so he wishes him to speak plain again. " no... i think i already know. but i'd like you to say it out loud. " tangerine lenses reflect him within them, as briar tilts his head slightly. " we are alone, after all. meaning no one will hear you but me. "

BG3 prompts / accepting

@mythkiss asked: [ bite ] a playful kiss that involves some light biting + [ slow motion ] a kiss in slow motion, accentuating every moment and sensation / MOONHILL

        the smell of smoke and leather had quickly become a comforting one. odd maybe, briar would never smoke, but the way it combined with every other scent that clung to boothill--  made it more than tolerable. it drew him in closer, made him want to lean against him, to waste his time re-learning every line and detail of his face. but was it a waste really? he has so much of it now. and what had begun as yet another exploration for briar, became much more than that.

it really was only meant to be another look at his face. tracing well known lines and curves. sometimes, if he leans close enough he can see a little more-- but only a little. and doing just that had given the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss. just as briar had made a move to remove boothill's hat. cool metal curls around his wrist, just as he feels the tell tale bite of teeth between a second kiss. then tongue into a third. an action that's met with a teasing bite.

which in hindsight, if briar had wanted to stop-- may not of been the best way to say so. and as he's pulled closer, briars mission, and boothill's hat are immediately dropped. forgotten in the onslaught of sensations--

one kiss quickly becomes more than he bothers to count; every taste, and touch heightened to an almost unbearable degree. there's something about the sensation of it, the languid way he pushes his tongue to his. ohhh... briar can feel his face growing hot, and a tight sensation in his ribs, his lungs begin to remind him... he needs air. ( a shame really, he would keep going forever if he could ) sneaking in little breaths where he can before he has to pull away. gasping, as now he's suddenly aware of boothills hands on him, of the sudden warmth coming from his body. of how "too much" it all is-- but it's good. he trusts him, knows that the teeth against his throat are only meant as a tender gesture.

a hand in the other's hair does little to dissuade him. and briar begins to wonder if maybe they should move somewhere more comfortable than this. " we should... " then a huff of air, as boothill bites just a little harder. enough that he may have to button up his collar later. " move this... to... "

different ways to kiss

@godfled asked: ❛  i’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me.  ❜ from ssn to briar <3 🏏

      he responds to susanoo's request with a gentle note, a show that he's acknowledged him. and simply continues what he was doing. pushing his hand closer to the other, a playful gesture. " distract you...? " the halovian's gaze is shut, hidden behind tangerine shades, low on the bridge of his nose. to try looking would be pointless-- so he relies on touch alone. ringed fingertips slowly slide between his, straight at first, then curled inward. to rest against his knuckles, pleased by how warm his skin is. there can be a great deal of intimacy in just the touch of another's hand. like the the very beginnings of learning someone;  who they are, what makes them unique. 

susanoo feels like what briar imagines a storm might, accompanied by woodsy aromas, and the tell tale scent of coming rain. there's other things there too, more subtle- but they're there. calluses, scars, the low thrum of power. here, outside the dream, his emotions are harder to read.

oh, but he can tell that he enjoys what he's doing. 

the other hand comes into play too of course. to slowly brush along his arm, just to feel what's there. it's much softer than his hands, but still, susanoo's strength is apparent even when he's relaxed. " i'd think someone like you might be much better at maintaining focus than that. " teasing lilt to his tone, as he brings the other's hand up now. and for just a moment, the smile leaves briar's face. replaced by a soft vulnerability that is... seldom seen. " it's just... " head cants to the side, face cupped in the open palm. gentle expression there, then gone again as quick as it came. both brows knitted upwards, weary and entirely too pleased. " your hands are sooo warm. i like them so much, i could keep holding them forever if you let me~ "

the princess bride

@oneireth asked: ❛ i have been in the revenge business so long, now that it’s over i don’t know what to do with the rest of my life. ❜ ( sunday @ briar :eyes: )

      there are undeniable parallels between them. mostly just in that their lives have been...  spent entirely within penacony. or, at least briar assumes that is the case. never prying too deeply in matters that do not immediately concern him. briar moon has only ever been a part of the oak family, has only ever been a dreamweaver. a character who occasionally greets new guests, and more often than that, works behind the stage to ensure every prop stays upright. sunday's admittance begs the question:  what do you do after it's all done? 

the tangerine lenses of his glasses glint in the light, as he turns his head slightly. 

" you can always try to make the best of things here. " a suggestion of course, he doesn't expect him to take it seriously. briar is honestly still at a bit of a loss himself. things have taken too many twists and turns for him to keep up. " find some weird hobbies maybe? i could think of a few that might suit you. "

the princess bride

“ you really busted your head open, didn’t you ? ” hi briar

blood drips in steady streams down his face. from his chin, to his coat, his shirt-- oh... what would they think of him right now? briar can't see, in fact... he can barely hear her. he hit his head pretty hard, not even mentioning the other injuries he's managed to gain from his "fall". " milou? " the only pain he can really focus on right now is his head. no doubt he's heavily concussed; slurred speech, hazy thoughts, a throbbing in his skull that only continues to worsen. " y...yeah. " head rolls to one side, as he attempts to move. ( ah the dangers of his line of work ) skirting dreams and finding places where these things are weakest.

" think... " briar doesn't fight it much longer. there is another injury that's beginning to cause him trouble. " i'd like it... if you didn't m.. mention this to anyone. " body tilting far enough now that he drops to his side. " can you.... please. "

resident evil 2 prompts

@spadilled asked: aven/turine of stratagems isn't stupid. he isn't as reckless as everyone claims him to be, even if his plans usually include leaving his life on the line at every single possible junction. he's none of the things his countless enemies claim him to be. though, as the stoneheart adjusts the glasses on his nose, he realises something he - without a doubt - is. the rush is addicting. the lure of those eyes hidden behind tinted lenses, that effortlessly smooth voice and perfectly policed expression... the feeling of being looked through when that gaze settles on him... aventurine is an addictive person and briar moon? well, briar possesses every trick in the book to get the avgin well and truly hooked. "please, my friend. let's forgo the hostilities and cut to the chase." pushing the fresh glass of a highly expensive drink across the table towards the taller figure, aventurine allows his smile to widen and his eyes to darken. there's no use trying to hide in plain sight with this one. even with his vision difficulties, aventurine knows just how exposed he is sat before one of sunday's closest confidants. still, the usual shower of cologne is missing and the stoneheart has even forgone some of his usual jewelry decorations. "i'm an easy man to get along with, believe me. but i can't help but feel a certain level of... hm, distrust? between you and i. how can i help you with that, mr moon? how can i help change your mind?"

      perhaps it's the other's luck that frustrates briar the most. to have presented him with exactly what he wanted-- without even knowing it. something he's very carefully left hidden up his sleeve,  because the last thing he needs, is anyone from the family asking him questions. outside of course, sunday--  who was prone to asking him plenty as it is. it was not worth the risk, unless he could be promised that it'd all go off without a single mishap.  impossible of course.

which is why that information remains a secret.

" i feel i've been quite accommodating towards you... " delivered with a smile, gaze shut behind his glasses. can hardly see outside the dream anyway;  they'd be not but a blur of faded colors and shadows. 

 briar takes the glass, but doesn't drink anything.  " right to the issue then.  aven/turine. " fingertips tapping gently against the chilled surface beneath them.  " my trust, and my time, cannot be bought. " taking a seat finally. a clear show that he is attempting diplomacy, not so far in the family pockets that he's beyond reason. " it has to be earned.  mind you! i appreciate all your attempts at grabbing my attention. but what i want and what i need, do not hold any monetary value. and while i've no doubt you and i could get along beautifully-- you're just not worth taking a 'gamble' on as of yet. "

unprompted

“ you don’t look so good. ”  hewo briar

     while briar cannot boast keen sight, precise aim, or a good eye for physical detail--  he has other things at his disposal. and though there's plenty to mention, it is a tolerance to pain that comes into play now. no doubt though, the little stumble he suffered just now has already given away too much. " ah...  i suppose i am a bit tired... " offering the other a pleasant smile, and a curt nod. every word is spoken with an ease that surprises even himself.  " but it's nothing to concern yourself over~ as flattering as it is that you'd ask. " 

one of those horror game prompts