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lucetilogs2011-02-20 05:41 am
letsplaysurgeon.livejournal.com) wrote in lucetilogs2011-02-20 05:41 am
Wedding bells ain't going to chime, with both of us guilty of crime
Who:
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letsplaysurgeon and deathsdoctor What: Katas, cigarettes and copious amounts of banter.
When: The morning after this, so backdated to the fifteenth of February.
Where: On the roof of CH2.
Summary: A fortuitous meeting when Muraki has an early morning nic-fit and heads to the roof for some smoke and fresh air.
Rating: PG-13 for now, but it's looking like it'll progress into an R rating later.
[Light was creeping through his window as faint as a phantom, and it didn't break the shadows apart as opposed to washing them in a grainy blue tint. This wasn’t nighttime, but it didn’t really qualify as morning, either: it was the hour in between where daylight was slowly being dragged from the dead. And he was awake to experience it. As a matter of fact, he was far more conscious than nature was at this moment.
He watches the world develop contours, bringing his bedroom into sharper focus. He stares at the same corner of his ceiling for ten minutes before deciding he didn't like the clash between the catatonic morning and his buzzing brain. He could get up, shuffle around his apartment and wait on his hands, or he could venture out into the world and watch it sleep.
When was the last time he had a cigarette? He puts on his shoes and coat and then leaves the apartment.
The decision to go up to the roof occurs to him after he acknowledges the familiar way downstairs and decides it wasn't worth the effort. Instead he treks up five flights of stairs and pushes open an unfamiliar door, met with a cold burst of February air before he even walks outside.]
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There are the bare whispers of movement. Crackles.
Muraki, you are not alone. There is someone else on the roof and has been for some time.
… doing this.
With lightning.
Sparks dance across bronzed skin as he moves, tranquil, flowing, as the electricity flows over him, trickles from his fingertips, and leaves sparkling arcs in the air. All internal power and grace and control, aside from those moments where he stops being water and becomes the lightning he’s channelling, and strikes with the same electric speed.
This is what he does in the mornings. Warm up. Stretch and focus for the coming day. He is not a hand to hand fighter but a swordsman, unless there is no other option, but he likes this. It’s relaxing, it’s meditative, it promotes concentration. Things essential for many reasons.
And to combine it with filial magic just brings it up to the next level. And it’s pretty.
So there practices Trafalgar Law, in the cold, and quite explicitly not dressed for the weather. All he wears is a simple pair of loose pants, a shirt only half done up and hanging loose, and shoes. The sword is to the side as is the hat. Call it laziness, but his apartment is just below and he expected to be alone anyway. And anyway, it is not what he considers to be truly cold.
Cold was what he was thrown into when he first arrived.
He keeps practicing. He’s aware of another presence but he ignores it for the moment. Not footsteps he knows by heart and he is not getting any overt sensation of threat. Whatever this person wants, it doesn’t require his attention and probably has nothing to do with him.
Yet. Anyway.]
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His gaze flicks to the side, slamming into the sight of his own hair, and he curses it briefly. It was always getting in the way, but instead of pushing his bangs aside, Muraki turns his entire body to face the source.
First thought that crosses his mind was he wasn't alone--but that was interrupted by the observation that this person was moving some kind of electric blue light around. Likely the last thing he expected to see before breakfast. It's quite mesmerizing, but he still shifts his weight, calculating the threat level with a direct stare...
...And decides there is none. The stranger's movements are slow and fluid, and they have nothing to do with each other, other than being in the same place at the same time. He doesn't seem to notice Muraki, either. He considers slipping away before he disrupts him, while a petulant side of him doesn't feel like moving.
The lightning traces an arc of light in the air like a vivid smear, illuminating his profile. Muraki sees trimmed facial hair, piercings and a familiar nose. His brows rise.]
Mr. Law? [His voice is even, but devoid of its usual confident lilt, betraying his surprise.]
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His pulse quickens unexpectantly at the sound of that voice, but nothing else betrays his surprise. He is too Zen at the moment.
He doesn't stop practising.]
Mister Muraki.
[The lightning ripples around him and off him like waves as he drags his fingers slowly, ever so slowly up, and then brings them together as he presses his palm to the air and slowly slides it down, an arc of light chasing the movement.
Illuminating the flesh peeking coyly out from the half open shirt. Revealing muscles - hard, chistled, compact. Perhaps, if you're very lucky, the flash of a bared nipple as the fabric pulls as he twists. And scars - battle scars. Scars each with a story to tell.
His eyes are very blue and they are electric as they peek out at you from lowered lashes, and he gives another moonlight smile.]
Out here enjoying the view?
[He did not realize you lived here. And certainly didn't expect to meet you near dawn, under a sky full of fading stars and a hanging moon. How... fortutious. This makes finding you easier.
He breathes a touch deeper when he gets a better look.]
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He hadn't expected you to be living in the same building. The unexpected convenience was something that one could find in a sitcom, and he certainly wouldn't have planned to run into you when he looked a little more touseled than normal.
Muraki wasn't surprised often. He ran things like a chess board, moving his pawns and looking three steps ahead to get the results that he wanted--and it worked. It worked because he treated it like an art. He didn't like to be rushed.
But the hiccup couldn't seem to graduate to a higher level of irritation. He feels something else settle inside his lungs--was it relief?
He knows the faint stirring in his stomach when he recognizes that skin is bare. More than the first time he met you. But he won't let himself look that far.
Not yet.
His gaze remains lax, watching the curve of your neck without thinking. Then he shifts effortlessly into his typical poise: straightening and running a hand through his hair as he glances to the side with a brief 'hmph' in his throat.]
I hadn't planned on observing the view...then again, I also didn't expect to see you here. [His eyes dart a little bit over your face, collecting details. Now that the pieces had fallen together, he can appreciate the situation in full: and what bizarre magic you have, Doctor.
He smiles and jokes.] It seems I found out where you live after all, Mr. Law.
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You really did roll out of bed, didn't you? And the thought of that...
... he is much less familar with the faint stirrings in his veins as that image hits him. Doesn't recognise it at first.
Instead he casually shoves his hands in his pockets, and tilts his head slightly to the side, like he would in a shogi match, cheshire smile on his lips and mischief in his stance. There are a few more crackling arcs of electricity traveling over his body. They fade. It seems it is safe to approach him.]
Aa... no? But it's a lovely view; it should be appreciated more often. [Eyes meet eyes and stay there. Law also doesn't need to look now. One glimpse is enough.] I tend to be up here every morning. It's a good place to warm up and focus for the coming day.
[Chuckle.] So you have. And I you. [Thinking about what was said in the conversation about neighbours... the woman ... ah that's where you are.] Third floor, yes? [He must be slipping; he's usually a little more aware of who lives in the building than this.]
[If you think his contracted elemental powers are bizarre, Muraki, what will you think of his true ones?]
/Will stop editing this like a crazy person
[He holds your gaze for a few seconds, entirely casual. Even when it occurs to him what a look could suggest--even promise--and he wonders what might happen if he tested you. Would you shy away from him if his look became significant?
Instead he breaks the moment, flicking his eyes onto the scenery past your shoulder. It seems almost darker without the strokes of lightning, and he sees the random scattering of stars in the sky. Pretty.
But no, he doesn't give a damn about the view. Especially in this world. Perhaps he's just biased--have you ever seen Kyoto, Law?]
You have a very respectable morning routine. Fitting for a man who carries a sword. [A slight laugh.] Unfortunately my motives for being here are not as healthy as yours.
[He emphasizes this point by opening his trench coat and reaching into one of the interior pockets, pulling out a zippo and a pack of Mild Sevens after fumbling for a moment. Once he picks one out of the pack, he seems to forget you for a moment as he concentrates on the ritual of lighting his cigarette. His movements are well-practiced, like getting dressed in the morning: he bites down on the filter and cups one hand above the lighter, using his opposite thumb to flick the wheel. A weak flame ignites, flapping in the wind and charring the edge of his cigarette. So he has to brace himself against the wind, strike the lighter again and suck until it's fully lit.
He snaps the lighter shut with a metallic click and returns it to his pocket. Then Muraki pinches the cigarette between two fingers and exhales a stream of smoke into the air, taking care to direct it away from you.]
...That is correct. And now it would be proper etiquette for you to answer me, wouldn't it? [He looks amused.] If I'm not mistaken, we are in person.
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But he does wonder what you're thinking about. Wonders how you'd react if he became a bit more teasingly flirtatious. You like men - what kind of man is up in the air - and wonders if he fits with that. Wonders what you percieve. Will you see him, or just like so many others, just a distortion of who he really is?
He supposes he can live with that, either way.]
Mmm? It'll get better.
[He has seen the darkness and the depths of ocean trenches. The wild unyielding force of the polar storm. The varied jewels of islands scattered carelessly across the Line. The depravity in the hearts of men and the humanity in one young woman's.
But no, Muraki.
He has never seen Kyoto.]
So I see. [Law doesn't smoke. His favorite vice is caffeine. Though this places drives a man to consider it.]
That we are. But. This is not answer enough? [Teasing. Utterly amused here. They are in person - and this meeting has been answer enough to Law's satisfaction.] Aa, but I live just below here. [Aka, eighth floor. Good views (great for watching people coming and going) and easy access to the roof.]
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But it would be an unbelievable shame if you didn't have an open mind.
...Of course, he has to wonder if a straight man would've allowed the journal conversation to carry on the way it did, with all its implications. He doubts you're dense enough to miss that.
And he's already decided you will like it--Kyoto, that is. Your apparent patience and calm manner would compliment the old architecture and zen gardens. As far as he's seen...though he stops and finds it a bit odd that he's associating you with something almost personal to him.]
It's not a question of what building you live in, Mr. Law. That much is clear. [Unless you make a habit of hanging out on random rooftops like a superhero.] But there are several floors. And more than a few apartments on those floors, making it rather difficult to just "drop by," as you put it before. [His lips quirk around his cigarette.] Unless of course, that is your intention.
[Because you still suspect something from him, don't you?]
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... likely not. And what implications they were, weren't they? He'll suppose you'll see what an open mind he has.
And as you think him in Kyoto, he takes one moment to indulge in wondering how you'd take to his home. His nakama. But... he knows you are not meant for the Grand Line. To wish otherwise is foolish.]
[The Cheshire smile widens, turns slightly more flirtatious. Oh how did you know about that? He likes his rooftops you know.] Oh? Was that my intention? Are you sure about that? [He pulls out his right hand from the pocket and lazily points down.] As I said, just below here. [HINT.]
[Naturally, Muraki, naturally.]
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The day of 15th after the roof to up to 17th 1/2
The night passes slowly and uneasily. Dreams are fragmented, and he spends long hours just staring at the ceiling and his hands. At his tattoos.
-The first dream is simple - or at least starts that way. He is a Captain in search of his men who are enjoying themselves. They need to leave with the tide. And like most men at sea who have been on it for months, there are a few things foremost on their minds.
His first stop is a brothel. He'll drag them out by their ears if need be.
He catches in the corner of his eye ornate robes as he stalks past... smells tobacco smoke rising from a carved pipe, and gets utterly lost in the hallways. The sound of women giggling surrounds him, hidden behind paper screens. Weird place. Not typical of what would be found in a port.
He pushes one screen open, and it's not a woman with one of his dallying crew that he finds. Instead...-
He ends up in the shower after that one. Stays in there for a good hour.
-The second dream is the most comfortable. It's the one he would wish was reality.
He roams the Grand Line once more. He is home. He has his nakama. Bepo. He has the sea. He has his lover by his side. They are on the deck and the sails are raised.
It is not a perfect life. It is a hard one, filled with adventure, and battle, and piracy, and all those slow dreadful and wonderful moments in between when there is nothing to do but mind the sub and while away the hours being amused at the crazy antics of nakama, and finding a million and one things to pass the time. It is a better life. He has someone he can entrust his nakamas' lives to when the battle between his dual roles as Doctor and Captain become too much to bear and he can't shoulder both at the same time. Someone who can see the all of him, appreciate every multifaceted side and not define him by one thing, or a few things, but by all things.
He does not dream of sex. He dreams of warm cabins and lazy mornings, and exotic Grand Line islands. The simple pleasure of sunlight and seeing the sea breeze rake through hair. Watching talented hands at work. Apple crisp.
The air tastes bright, and clean, and brimming with the promise of the New Age. The sun breaks, and Raftel awaits, waiting just beyond that far off horizon, for him, for them...-
When he awakens in a start, he knows everything was purely fantasy. And will never be.
-The third is horrifying. Disjointed.
His nakama are dead at his feet. Poisoned and knifed. Irrationally he thinks he could bring them back to life with apple crisp. There is unmoving fur at the corner of his vision. A heap of things burns - a blood red fur coat, a sword and a four bladed axe, ... a straw hat. He is strapped to a table, collared, and restrained in every way, and his power burns at a slow, low burn. His flesh is limned in azure fire, and a scalpel traces around his bared nipple once, twice, thrice - blade flashing as it's turned and twisted and showing no signs of blood.
He doesn't bleed. Not like this. And his powers don't permit pain.
And then the scalpel carves into his chest and Law watches impassively as his heart is torn out, still beating, and hugged tight.
He still doesn't bleed. He never does.-
He doesn't sleep the rest of the night.]
Re: The day of 15th after the roof to up to 17th 2/2
Not enough to avoid Eferin though, but Law had been looking for him anyway. He leaves with burns, a pact, and the jibbing comment he should really be looking for Sona - there's enough water in him to drown the fieriest souls.
She's next though.
He gives himself medical attention and uses Nala's magic to cleanse himself of the slightly stinging injuries.
The day consists of people watching, or more accurately, Muraki watching. He takes care not to get too close and he masks all sounds he makes with Kipinn's magic. He doesn't need to get too close - he has binoculars, exceptional hearing, and mastery of wind magic. If he needs to hear something, he just manipulates the air to hear it.
The roof, and the test he gave at the end (yes, that statement/challenge/suggestion was a test too, Muraki) just confirmed he really needed to get to know you a lot more before even attempting to get in a relationship with you, no matter how much he desired you. So a study of you in your natural habitat is in order. How you interact with others without his own presence to shade your reactions.
How you act alone is of paramount interest too, but there are limits of how far he will go right now. Taking away all your privacy is... unsettling. He is already uneasy about stalking in this matter.
He is quite sure normal people in normal relationships don't need to resort to things like this. But this is not normal, the one he is interested in was dangerous, and in this case it is perfectly justified.
And he most certainly does not want this evolving into an obsession. No clarity in that. And even if he is in love... shouldn't he have enough distance to walk away?
How did he get in love so fast?
And...
... and why is he so drawn to you, Muraki?]
[The night of the sixteenth, Law sourly nods to himself and admits perhaps he is a bit obsessed. Because he can't. Stop. Thinking. Of. You. And this can't possibly be healthy. At ALL.
(He can hear his idiots now. About this being the reason he needs to get laid more often.)
Love is really like this? All burning, desire, and need?
Despite himself, despite what's provoked in him, he wants you, Muraki.
But the Captain of the Heart Pirates can't give up his heart so easily.]
[He goes to bed early and sleeps better that night, though he still ends up in the shower at least twice. He sniffs his sheets. He's definately going to have to launder them.
It's an unholy hour of the morning when he does warm up, and then he slips off to somewhere unseen to wait. Sooner or later, you'll get up and go out. He's fully bundled up for the weather and gloved (you have an apparent tattoo fetish, Muraki, Law shall not distract you with that) and he won't start after you until there is a fair bit of distance between you and him.
Now where shall he follow you to?]
The day of 15th after the roof to up to 17th 1/2
Before the stunt you pulled in the end, Muraki had no issue looking you in the eyes and thinking he was in love with you. It wasn’t even the flirtation as much as the fact that it caught him off-guard. He wants to detest the fact that you stole his thunder without his permission. And he does detest it—but there is heat. In this case, his desire is a bone splinter grating against the tendons of his more logical annoyance. He doesn’t reward those who try to dominate him. If that is indeed what you implied.
This wasn’t his usual cup of tea—it wasn’t one of the things that he normally counts as a turn on, either. But no matter how he felt, it wasn’t in his nature to deny himself. If he wants you, he wants you. If he loves you…it’s not hard to comprehend why.
You’re calm, articulate and charming—but on the other hand, daring and (in his opinion) extraordinarily cocky.
Muraki blinks. Ash crumbles off the edge of his cigarette. That sounded familiar.
And that was like the puzzle piece that made sense of the developing picture. It would be sweet narcissism courting someone who mirrors his assertiveness: who wants to play the game with him as opposed to being an attractive body he can prey upon and leave.
Do you also share his fancies? As far as he knew, you expected him to submit if it ever got so far.
The day of 15th after the roof to up to 17th
Muraki spends most of the following day at the clinic, then dinner at Seventh Heaven and a walk around the village plaza. He doesn’t talk to anyone, but he watches the human traffic with a detached look in his eyes. It doesn’t occur to him to look for you so soon—not just yet. Though he considers going up to the roof again, there was no strategy in that, or in knocking on your front door (but he could, and the fact that you live above him makes his fantasies a little more interesting). He needs to plan.
On the seventeenth he wrestles with the idea of staying in his apartment all day and doing just that. Furthermore, the window was open and a cold draft was coming into the room—that weighs against getting out of bed entirely. But emptiness turns his stomach inside out.
It was one of those rare occasions where he feels like cooking for himself. He gets dressed (making sure that he is equipped with all his armor, so to speak), and leaves the apartment.
One long walk later (punctuated by bumping into someone in the plaza, in which case he bows and apologizes to them), Muraki is at the grocery store. He picks up a shopping basket and makes a casual beeline to the dairy section. There, basking under the fluorescent lights between the sticks of butter and cylinders of biscuit dough were the eggs. After considering the selection for a moment, he reaches into the back for a plain beige carton hiding behind the pastel pinks and blues, and opens it to make sure none of the eggs were broken. It’s the first item to go into his basket.
But while he’s there, he decides to pick up a few more things and pivots around on his heel to stroll through the aisles of various goods, picking up edamame, strawberries, a bag of coffee beans and filters.]
17th - Grocery store
No, he does not want to dominate you, but in turn he does not want to be dominated himself. He hates passivity and he can't do complete vulnerability. It's... beyond him. He's getting the sense that control will be the making or breaking point of any relationship between them - and if this was going to work, they were going to have to figure out a way to approach each other as equals. Partners.
Difficult. Trust makes it so. What's provoked in him makes it so. The fact he is who he is and that being in control in situations like this is so deeply etched within him and has been been a cornerstone of consent to those rare sexual encounters. Not that his partners have been passive, because they most certainly have not - and there's no fun when he has to do all the work - but he has dictated how the encounter has proceded every time.
(There are practical reasons to this as well as psychological. When the divide of strength is as extreme as it is with him and others, there are certain places where sex cannot go lest he risk suddenly fucking a corpse. There are few who could really survive, much less come out relatively unscathed, having a volcanic round or two with him truly unrestrained and passionate.)
Difficult because... well, you are also controlling. Don't think he can't recognise it in another. They are both dominants. Compromise can't come easy.
But for his part he's willing to give it a try.]
[Once you go inside the grocery, Law waits until you disappear inside, away from the doors, before emerging from his hiding place and leaping to the roof. The grocery store has skylights and he makes full use of them as you stroll the aisles.
He waits until you pause to examine something or other, and then his face breaks out in a grin of utter mischief. Well now. There's something very intriguing on an opposite shelf. A perfect icebreaker. And your basket is just near enough...
Wind magic soundlessly propels a certain small box into your groceries. Hopefully you won't notice until you run into him. And with that he disappears from the roof proper.
And run into him you will. Idly glancing over the display of cigarettes in a different part of the store before bending over to pick up his basket, seemingly blissfully unaware and absorbed in his thoughts. He makes sure to make a little noise as he comes in the front door and heads over to that aisle. No need to sneak up on you unannounced... he thinks that would get this off to the wrong foot.
You can think you caught him offguard instead.]
Re: 17th - Grocery store
Your hat, to be exact. Even in his peripheral vision it sets you apart from the crowd (though Muraki has seen some remarkable statements of fashion in Luceti, no one else seems to be drawn to furry bowler hats). It was like pinpointing the red and white stripes in a "Where's Waldo?" book. ...Though discovering the whereabouts of a smiling nomad with a candy cane fetish was never this stimulating.
When Muraki decides to turn his head and spots you, he feels a second of shock, followed by the wary (pleased) realization that he hasn’t been spotted yet. He doesn’t attempt to hide himself amongst the hair care products, but he stands still and watches you, a little fascinated by his position. There was nothing innately entertaining about watching you shop, but it was amusing to see you trained on your own thoughts. Until he remembers he should be making a decision.
He could slip away unnoticed, or he could make something out of this stroke of good fortune. The first option was too much like running away for his taste; it offended his very arrogant nature. If he had a plan that introducing himself would interfere with, it would be forgivable, but he doesn’t.
Or perhaps he just cannot resist. It was like putting a black forest cake in front of a sweet tooth—he really shouldn’t, but maybe just one, itty bitty bite.
So to speak.
He drops the shampoo bottle into his basket without thinking (easier than putting it back) and moves forward. In the short distance between point A: where he was originally standing and point B: where you are, he considers his actions. He considers touching your arm to make his presence known, and even reaches for it, but ends up flicking that hand back to adjust his glasses.] What's this? Twice in one week? [His expression is nothing short of buoyant.] How lucky of me.
Re: 17th - Grocery store
Oh. Mister Muraki. [The smile turns a bit wry and embarrassed - caught unawares (or so it seems) - for a flickering second and then is all pleasantness again.] Well, it is a small village, but yes, heh, I suppose so. Lucky.
[His free hand plucks down some matches off the shelf to toss them in his basket, and he carefully turns to avoid knocking his nodachi into the shelves and sending the aforementioned cigarettes flying so he can lean against a post casually. One or two boxes hang precariously above him anyway, ready to fall if he nudges the shelves with any real force.]
So what brings you out today? Just shopping for dinner?
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Breakfast, to be specific. And a few unrelated essentials. [With the exception of omelets and a couple other simple dishes, Muraki doesn't like to cook for himself. He wouldn't even have to if he were at home, but here, he's been going out almost every night.
His gaze tapers to the side, at the display of cigarettes behind your head.] Oh? I wasn't aware that you smoked. [Perhaps it was rude of him not to offer you one before...]
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Evening of the nineteenth - CH2
Dates were something that he believed was exclusive to the world that he came from—they often involved candlelit restaurants, flowers, and sweet nothings. If there was courtship and dating in other worlds, that was not his concern, but it was difficult to incorporate something from home (even something as trivial as a casual date) into this new environment, and feel like they were the same thing. Not just a simulation of normality to appease him while he was stuck in Luceti.
Never mind the fact that his companion was a sea-faring surgeon with tribal tattoos and a sword. He’d have an easier time courting a normal man. Law was a different species comprised of multiple categories he’s encountered before, but the fact that they blended together made him a bit of an enigma.
At least he was alive. ...To Muraki’s knowledge.
If this wasn’t a date, he didn’t want to pour a gratuitous amount of time into piecing together his appearance like a teenage girl trying to find the right outfit to cast aside with her virginity. After a shower, he chose a white suit and a silver tie that was embroidered with crisscrossed squares, like individual pieces of metal. Elegant yet casual enough to go to a bar.
Of course Law never told him which apartment he was in. His vague response leads Muraki to believe he was on the top floor, but he knocks on a few doors before he hits the right one.]
Evening of the nineteenth - CH2
He tsks in the mirror afterward. He's got some beautiful bruises from earlier that are already halfway to healed and are spread across him in all their yellow-green glory. Can't feel them, but as he shakes his head and reaches for his clothes, he'll make one concession to vanity and use Nala's healing magic to speed them away.
He's just belting up his slacks when he hears the knock on the door. He arches an eyebrow. Already? Must have spent too much time in the shower then. He didn't think he had picked up too much grime from his training.]
Come in. It's unlocked. I'll be with you in a second.
[Grabbing his sweater, he strides toward the bathroom door, intent on yanking it on as he moves.]
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Muraki smiles at his minor success--though it's unconventional to let himself into someone else's home (especially a man he hasn't known for very long), he does as he is invited to do. He adjusts his jacket where it is folded in the crook of his arm and walks inside.
It was a very nice apartment. They were all uniform to a certain extent, but Law seems to keep a clean shop. No dirty plates or dead bodies in sight. He wanders for a moment looking for personal artifacts, some fascinating little window into his daily life. Then Muraki grows tired of snooping and stops in front of the window to inspect the view.]
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Law's room. The nodachi is just visible within.
There are two more doors in the hallway. One, the closest one to the living room, is obviously the bathroom from the sounds of movement inside. The other is closed, but there's a fold of orange fabric caught in that shut door.
The living room itself is mainly spartan. A couch, a liquor cabinet, a coffee table and assorted end tables and lamps. A bookshelf full of books and notes (mostly medical tomes, with some cookbooks, Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' and Machiavelli's 'The Prince', some philosophy texts, a few classics, and one oddball selection - a book on gravity and black holes) dominating the upper shelves with a basket filled with sewing supplies packs of medical supplies neatly tucked on the bottonmost. Sword sharpening supplies take up a end table.
On the coffee table there is a shogi board, with a complicated game in progress and a scrawled note with a date and time and a name. Shikamaru.
And in the corner there is certainly something strange. A sort of... bed-nest. With rumpled covers with bits of white fur sticking to them. Not Law's obviously.
Someone else lives here.
And the door to the bathroom creaks open, and there is the flash of bared, scarred torso, before the bronzed skin is covered with knit charcoal gray fabric.
And there Law is, simply dressed in a nice sweater and slacks, quietly waiting and smiling as he watches you inspect the view. The suspiciously excellent view of people coming and going.]
Did I keep you waiting long?
[There is one more thing of note in the room and it is right behind him on the wall dividing the kitchen from the bathroom. A black flag. With a peculiar symbol in white. A... grinning symbol.
... grinning at you like it holds every secret about this room and this man... and...
... and...
... it doesn't plan to tell you a thing.]
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It wasn't very often that Muraki thought back to his psych rotation as a student. But when he saw the name Machiavelli, he didn't think of his published works or his politics, but the term that psychologists often used to describe someone with the tendency to be dishonest and manipulative for their own personal gain. Along with narcissism and psychopathy, it formed a "dark triad" of personality traits. He chuckles a bit, enjoying the quaint and unexpected amusement of coincidence.
The messy bed in the corner also makes him lift his eyebrows, wondering if Law owned a dog (or what breed of dog was that big?) but he won't find Muraki looking at either of those things. He stands in front of the spacious windows and looks down at the ground below. And the human traffic going about their evening business.
A creaking door and a second set of footsteps draws his attention behind his head to his blind spots, but Muraki doesn't turn around until he hears Law's voice address him.
If he turned a second later than he did, he might've missed the flash of bare skin, and scars--though unsightly sometimes, made flesh even more fascinating and wonderful to behold--before it disappears beneath the surface of a knit sweater.]
Not at all. [A gentle smile already spread across his features.] I'm afraid I may be a bit earlier than expected, so the fault is all mine for intruding upon you.
[Once again he keeps his gaze trained on Law's face and avoids obvious visual dissection. This would usually be the point in the evening where he acknowledged that his companion looked nice--and he did, the dark gray was a nice contrast for his eyes. But Muraki decides to hold onto that for a moment, remembering that the word 'beautiful' threw him off before.
His eyes drift from his face to the black and white banner hanging behind him. It was hard not to notice: the stark colors and the blank, grinning face staring back at him, almost like a skull.
He blinks and turns to Law again.] You have a lovely home.
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[He pads forward silently on socked feet, managing to avoid making the slim chain attached to his belt chime too much with the movement. It's a touch Muraki would probably miss the significance of - he doesn't usually wear something that would so obviously broadcast his movements and alert an enemy with its sound.
It's a date - not a battle. Not a traditional sort of battle anyway, even though it might lead to a locking of swords later.
He peers down at the people briefly, tiny ants from this view on high, and then his attention turns back to you, still smiling.]
Aa. Well, I was nearly ready anyway. No harm done.
[Avoiding giving you the look over? No. Law's going to take a moment to appreciate the view, though it's a very subtle moment. Here and gone again in a flash, and nearly undetectable.
Just a hint in those eyes.]
... you look nice. [Getting first to that compliment and he means it. You look nice. You generally look nice, even if you also wear your clothes like battle armor.
He wonders if the armor would go away if he peeled those clothes off, or if it would just get heavier.
Somehow he suspects it would be both.]
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Humming at his comment, he loses interest in the ground behind him and concentrates on his companion. He manages to capture the hint and watches Law to see if he would give him more, the corners of his lips quirking.]
I'm flattered. [When Law compliments him (quite unexpectedly), he shifts and responds with something between a hum and a laugh, almost as if he was going to play coy.] So do you. Dark colors suit you, Mr. Law: it brings out the shade of your eyes. [Vague--almost playful--tone of voice on his end, and he looks away. After Law's invitation into the topic, he doesn't worry much about hiding his aesthetics. Or Muraki reasons that it's not something to conceal to begin with. The fact that it wasn't masculine does not concern him--it was the way he was programmed to behave, and he doesn't feel the need to secure his maleness. He was a man.
Already thinking about undressing him, are we?It was. Removing Muraki's physical armor didn't crack his mental barriers, and those had more of a safeguard than a button or a zipper. Only one set of armor did he really care to let people touch.]no subject
Other men, he wouldn't bother. The type of men he's 'dated' before aren't the type to appreciate things like that, and frankly he doesn't care for it much himself. Not one for excessive praise. But thankfully this isn't excessive.
He steps closer. Smile becoming playful, because he sees you watching him. Watching what he's doing.]
Mm. Do they? [His lashes lower slightly, as self-depreciating amusement tugs at that smile.] They're certainly easier to take care of, that's for sure. [Bachelor pirate captains/surgeons aren't the most domestic of creatures, no. And dark colors hide the dirt and the blood better after training. He never uses safeties in the Battle Dome.]
[And as you are watching him, he is watching you to see what you will do.
He is now close enough to touch. Will you?]
Has your day been pleasant so far?
[
What of it? Dear Muraki, you've been wondering how he might be underneath the sheets since the rooftop. Admit it.](no subject)