A Clash of Eikons - Semi-Open

[odinpusrex]

WHO: Odin (Barnabas + Sleipnir), Bahamut (Dion), and YOU(?)
WHEN: 7/5 midday
WHERE: The expanse of Ochreward
WHAT: Just a couple of magical kaiju having themselves a lil duel
NOTES\WARNINGS: Mild magical violence, will update as needed

To the northern reaches of Etraya's bubble there is a long strip of land that is otherwise uninhabited. Ochreward is its name, and today it will serve as the battlefield for two giant Eikons. While their chosen arena should provide them ample area for this clash of theirs, that does not mean others would not see the towering forms of these magical beings as they bring sword and claw to one another. Their considerable size of over hundred feet would serve to earn them notice alone, but Bahamut's impressive wingspan that reaches twelve fold their height only encourages would-be onlookers in kind.

As would the spectacle of their magic and attacks.

With Odin's massive black blade cutting devastating arcs of unfathomable destruction towards his opponent, Sleipnir's hooves crackling with thunderous lightning with each step he takes upon the open air, and Bahamut's searing beams of purging light ripping across the sky as he likewise soars its expanse—one might be hard pressed not to notice. Not to mention, for those more sensitive to magical energies, this is not unlike a hurricane of magic, dark and light energies swirling and clashing like a maelstrom without cease.

The wildlife in the area is also fleeing from the vicinity, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

Should one wish to watch the spectacle from a safe distance, or try to interfere with these giants, that is ultimately up to them, but the two seem rather focused on one another. No obvious concern is given for the destruction their attacks cause their battlefield with its otherwise underdeveloped state; they might not notice those who attempt to approach them immediately.

Though, there also was a network post regarding the whole thing, but not everyone is going to notice that when there's quite literally a clash of titans happening in their backyard.

(ooc: There will be a thread where Odin and Bahamut are fighting which will work as a reference point for anyone who wishes to have a TL on here to watch/interact with others during this whole thing, but also for those who wish to try to get involved please feel free to specify such with your TL so Ren and I can interact with it as well. If you want to try to plot anything specific please feel free to hit me up (discord is zanono/ZornSable)!

Basically this is just a big kaiju battle mingle of sorts! There were bound to be some slap fights eventually!)

Comments

[cantilevers]

[Vander had been on his way out the door from the barcade when he'd received the text about bringing cups. Such a fortuitous text message as he returned to grab some disposable cups and a garbage bag that he stuffed into his backpack which he had been intending to take with him.

Of course, he had no idea what Clive looked like, but he knew what Cid did and anyone with a keg was bound to be easy to find as he traversed his way to (hopefully) a view of the action. What did he know about all-powerful land-destroying beings? Absolutely nothing, but he did know that there would be bets and that Barnabas apparently had a strong history of victory.

It took him time to locate the area in question, walking up a rolling hill was a long stride that covered ground. His shoulders were stooped forward, and he walked with a bend in his knees designed to be both defensive and to decrease the accuracy of his height. His clothing was all casual and his long shoulder length hair was confined to a manbun, though some stray strands framed his face.

He spotted what he knew to be a keg and probably Cid nearby, and he spied the man from the network post. Clive. He raised a hand in greeting as he closed the distance between them, swinging his pack from his shoulder in an all too casual gesture.]

Was the previous plan to drink from the spout? Done it, don't recommend. [He bent and fished in his backpack for the disposable cups, offering them to Clive.] Pleasure to meet you face-to-face, Clive. Have I missed a bunch of the fun already?

[herofhopeless]

[Not really sure what direction Vander would be coming from, Clive periodically checks the horizons and hopes that he isn’t going to be trying to come from a direction that may put him in Dion or Barnabas’ path. The man didn’t seem like an idiot though, so hopefully he wouldn’t do something foolish to get here.

Clive would periodically look towards where the two Eikons were battling, keeping an eye out for any potential dangers towards anyone here. It was also rather breathtaking in a way. He had never been able to just observe a battle of this magnitude. The closest he got was Titan and Shiva and even then he had been on a job.

Clive was standing with his hip cocked with a hand planted firmly on it when he heard an unfamiliar voice, warm with a slight rasp, speaking in a familiar way. He turns in time to see Vander bent over his bag. When the man straightened, Clive watches in near fascination as he just… keeps going.

Clive was not a small man by any means, but Vander? Clive gave the other man a slow once over, cobalt eyes assessing and curious. His mind couldn’t help cataloguing anything that might be seen as a mark of strength or signs that he may be a boon on a battlefield. It also couldn’t help but take note of how those things may also be used for something more… recreational. There were a lot of them. Strong, solid, fit. Very fit.]

Vander, I’m guessing?

[Clive steps forward and takes the cups and oh Founder, those hands. He wonders if they are calloused, how firm his grip would be. He grazes gloved fingertips lightly over his wrist as he removes the cups and replaces them with his forearm, hand gripping Vander’s firmly in turn.]

The pleasure is mine.

[He lingers for a moment, searching the other man’s eyes with a gaze that some might say is too intense. As if satisfied with what he sees, Clive let’s go and gestures towards the two clashing creatures in the far distance.]

Not really. I imagine the two of them will be at it for a bit.

[Clive turns to the already tapped keg and puts the cups down, taking two and filling them with a precision that says he has been around his fair share of kegs. Mind you, this one was a bit different from what he was used to, but the concept was the same. He turns and passes one of the cups to Vander.]

So, is it everything you hoped?

[cantilevers]

[It was true. Vander may walk with a stoop, but when he rose with the cups, he naturally rose to his full height which had a head over Clive. He was used to other men being around Clive's height or smaller, though there were a few that could top his height yet it remained rare. He usually took note of those that neared his height, but as much as he liked to be the tallest man in the room like any other tall person, he also didn't allow it to wrestle up any rivalry either.

His gray eyes flicked to the battling in the distance, and that was quite the intimidating and breathtaking fight. He couldn't say that he had ever seen anything like it before, even as his gaze returned to Clive so as not to be rude during their formal introductions. He caught the younger man's assessments, reading the lingering crawling gaze, and that was quite the appreciation he was feeling. The corner of his lip twitched in the beginnings of a smirk before he made a point to turning it to a friendly smile instead.

Way to make a man feel attractive, he supposed. All the physical activity to avoid his own thoughts appeared to be paying off for other potential distractions. At least he had a sense of where he might stand with Clive and where the other man's interests may lay.]

Indeed. I wasn't certain we would meet face-to-face so soon, but who are we to pass on opportunities for potential friendships, right? [He clasped Clive's arm in return, noting the muscles and strength of that limb. He also was keenly aware of the brush to his wrist which was... not subtle in the least. It was obvious Cid had taught Clive a thing or two.

And Clive was handsome, tall, strong and clearly able-bodied. His eyes caught and stared for a second or two too log on the facial scar, curious of the story behind it. While now did not seem the time to inquire, he knew that he would. The handsomely messy hair fit with the mannerisms, but those eyes were bright and vivid, likely to draw considerable attention.

He tossed his gaze away as he lifted a hand and pretended to scratch the back of his neck as his other hand swung his pack up and over his broad shoulder as he regarded the battle as Clive went off with the cups. He stood away from the keg, expecting that there would be plenty that would come and go with some of it, and his attention fixed on the 'men' currently engaged in sparring. So that's what Eikon's were, huh?

He took the cup and shifted it out to tap Clive's in a friendly gesture.]

I can't say I know what I was expecting, but I assure you that it wasn't this. It's rather awe inspiring to see. Does it hurt to assume that form?

[herofhopeless]

[Clive likes the height. It is different to have to look up at someone to make eye contact and the thought is oddly thrilling. It is new and oh how he loved new. There was only one other person he met that was around this size and he would gladly replace the memory of that man with this one any day.

Clive glances at Vander’s lips at the beginning of that smile and looks back up, his eyebrow quirking just a fraction. There had been nothing subtle about how Clive checked him out and he hadn’t intended there to be. Not that he had thought his curiosity would be quite as piqued as it was. He should be embarrassed. This was not something that he would have allowed himself to indulge in, not something he had the time for. But here? Now?

No time like the present he supposed.]

Likewise. Why waste time and the chance to watch -

[Clive gestures towards the battle. He looks back at Vander, chin slightly tilted to the side in an assessing gesture.]

From a safe vantage point.

[The comment is very pointed and not at all subtle. If Vander got any funny ideas about getting closer to that chaos, there would be words. Now, he didn’t think he could full body haul this man away if it came down to it, not like he was. But a semi-prime or some well-placed magic would do just as well.

But if their previous conversations were anything to go by, Vander is a smart man. Smart men usually didn’t do stupid things if they could get the results in a safer way. Usually. Okay. Very infrequently in Clive’s experience but he was hoping this would be different.

Clive returns the friendly gesture of clinking their cups together and settles in next to the man, close enough that their arms are only a few inches apart. He takes a sip of the beer and makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat. Luckily for him, Clive had never had the luxury of refrigeration, so warm beer was a constant in his life. So was watered-down beer, which this most certainly was not. Clive takes another sip.]

I don’t think many people would know what to expect in a situation like this.

[Clive tilts his chin to look back up at Vander. The corners of his mouth quirk up in a small smile. He hadn’t expected to enjoy having to look up at someone to make eye contact, and yet here he is.]

No. Priming itself is pretty painless. It can be pretty tiring, though.

[Clive wonders if he should look away, look back to the fight, but really, when has he ever stopped staring at someone before he was well and ready? And those eyes - grey like the clouds as rain rolled in.

Grey. It was always grey, wasn’t it?

Finally, Clive looks back at the fight.]

It uses a lot of energy. As you can imagine, something like that takes up a lot of aether. Ah, that’s what we call magical energy. To my understanding, every living thing has it in some capacity or another.

[Clive takes another sip. He’s still not sure if he likes this beer or not, but he also worries that he won’t know what to do with his hands without the cup so drinking the beer it is.]

[cantilevers]

[His focus shifted from the sparring match that seemed to cleave the skies and ground alike in a glorious conquest that he would take days if not weeks to attempt to put into some manner of understandable context. Was this what it would be for the gods of Runeterra to fight each other in open conflict? And this was little more than a sparring match, and yet a threat like this was humbling to remind him of the smallness of his own mortality.

And yet, to his left, he found himself grounded by the solid presence standing next to him, a man he had only met recently. His eyes skated from the dramatic scene before them to then watch Clive from the corner of his eye. He still lifted his cup to his lips and took a quaff of the lukewarm liquid before inclining his head slightly in the younger man's direction.]

From a safe vantage point. There is no benefit to move closer. Besides, there's enough to wager a bet on the winner from here.

[He ignored the pointed nature of Clive's comment. He had watched and even participated in enough brawls to know when to steer clear of being drawn in. There was no point, and he wasn't willing to risk a death and perhaps a loss of something precious solely for curiosity's sake. He was old enough and experienced enough to know an outmatched situation, recognizing his own fruitless mortality when facing two powerful giants.

Instead, he took another sip of beer, not particularly enjoying it but unwilling to waste either. He had harder stuff in his pack anyway, and he was more than happy to share if Clive was up for it once they had finished their first round from the keg.]

Priming, hmm? [So that's what it was called.

He pulled his attention away to regard Clive, assuming there was a similar potential in him to assume something massive and destructive. He stepped closer, letting their elbows knock lightly as he leaned down to peer at the younger man in those striking blue eyes.]

Does it... feel good to prime then? A release of something potent from within? Like maybe a temper snapping or a sharp exhale?

[He leaned in closer so there was only a few inches between their faces. Could he see this mystical magical power lurking in Clive's startlingly rich blues? He could smell the faint scent of alcohol on the other man's breath and expected the reverse to be true as he gazed as if searching for hints of this power.

He tilted, glancing the way of the battle where the two didn't seem to appear to be flagging in power or strength.]

Magical talents are something a person is born with where I'm from. It's not a gift or a curse; it just is I expect. Like any other talent that can be subject to abuse or acclaim.

[He stood again, drinking his beer as he shrugged off his pack to let it swing down to settle at his feet again.]

[herofhopeless]

[Clive watches the battle unfold across from the two of them, drinking more of the beer he has decided that he does not like. It would make for a good addition to a stew, but for drinking? He wouldn’t be going back for a refill. He wonders what it must be like to see something like this for the first time. He barely remembers his first and was so used to this that he could spend time thinking about how much he didn’t like the beer rather than being floored by such a sight.

And yet, he was still entranced in his own way. Clive knows the power of Bahamut unrestrained and how fearsome it truly is. He wonders if anyone else has experienced that or what it might be like to have that aimed at him when Dion was in control and without the power of a Mothercrystal coursing through him. Clive’s eyes flick over to Odin as he raises his sword and his fingers reflexively tighten just a bit on the cup in his hand, remembering the freezing cut of that blade.]

Good. I was hoping you would be smart enough to stay back. Glad to know that wasn’t misplaced.

[Clive finally looks away from Bahamut and Odin’s deadly dance.]

A wager, huh? Are you a betting man then, Vander?

[Before tonight, the most Clive had done for betting was play some cardgames at the Hideaway with Gav and some Cursebreakers for fun, only betting pennies even when some of the others wanted to bet more, but there were some rules Clive wasn’t willing to bend and he would not have his people falling deep enough into a feeling that he knows has ruined people. Was Vander one such person?

When Vander starts to lean down, Clive shifts minutely to make it easier for the other man to look into his eyes. He doesn’t know what it feels like to have to stoop so often to look more deeply, but he can’t imagine it is very comfortable to do. And he finds he wants Vander to look at him, to stare. It is, admittedly, a rather novel feeling. There wasn’t many people that he wanted that from, a scrutinizing gaze usually a thing to shy away from or redirect.]

It -

[The question catches Clive off guard and he swallows, breath catching in his chest for more reasons than just Vander being so close he can feel his alcohol-tinged breath on his skin. He thinks of Ifrit, rushing forth, wreathing him in flame and stone, his roaring strength crashing through Clive like nothing he had ever felt. With each Prime, the feeling still shakes him to his core. And with it, that hunger, deep and yawning, never satiated. Not begging, but roaring for more.

The drive Clive always desperately tries to ignore, even as he feels sparks of it in his human form. Even reflexively, as he feels it now with Vander so close. But he pulls back from that reflex, wondering what it might feel like to let himself indulge. At his oh-so-close distance and with his acute observation, Vander would see the smallest sparkle of a glowing blue near Clive’s widening pupils, there and gone in a second.

Clive is silent for a couple of beats, searching Vander’s gaze for something, anything, that might tell him why the other man is asking, but he finds little other than curiosity. His voice is lower than intended, gruff around the edges in a way that did not hide that hunger.]

For me, yes.

[Hunger, power, wanting. But also pride, a sense of regality, knowing he can protect the ones that he loves.]

It’s a release. Like a satisfying stretch after being sat too long in one place, flavored by the flash of adrenaline that comes with finally catching something you had been searching for.

[As he talks, Clive lets himself lean in just enough to press their arms closer together, relishing in the feeling of firm muscle that promises the pure strength the body in front of him holds. The moment breaks as Vander pulls away, but the feelings do not. Clive looks back out at the battle before them.]

Magic is also something someone is born with where I am from. No amount of training can teach that, but people borrow that strength from the Mothercrystals that are mined for their power.

[Something stormy flashes through Clive’s bright eyes, turn calm blue into a roiling ocean.]

It’s a curse.

[A curse that he seems to be exempt from, particularly now that his brand has been removed. So he will use his power to push through, to create a world where no one is bound by magic or the harsh reality that comes with it, the abuse of others, the robbery of the ability to choose how to live one’s life. Clive unconsciously brushes a finger against the scar that runs from his cheekbone to well below his jaw.]

One I intend to break.

[In an attempt to calm the sudden inferno in his chest, Clive slams the rest of his beer and wipes his mouth. It helps, but only a little.]

[cantilevers]

[The corner of his lip uplifted in a coy smirk at the question of his betting habits, and he could honestly say that who he was now compared to who he had once been told a story of his betting history. Back then, he bet frequently or was the subject of bets when he was in the pit fighting ring, earning rent from taking a punch or two before clobbering whoever had the misfortune of stepping into the ring with him. A few months ago, he had no reason to bet, nothing to gain, only things to lose. However, his loses had staked regardless and he was back to entertaining betting. What did he have to lose?]

It's hardly worthwhile to bet with coin anymore, not when we technically want for nothing in this place. Don't you agree? [He made a point of a considering look, his eyes flicking to the intensity of battle in the distance.] These days I tend to wager things I want or interest me. So, how about it, Clive? You willing to set a bet on this with me?

[He might be experienced, but he had seen destitute people. He expected that couldn't happen here. Still, betting was also a tactic to test the waters and nudge the other person to revealing about themselves, perhaps a detail about how their interests lay. He had not forgotten how Clive had checked him out in such an obvious way, which was either inexperience or a gesture intended to pique his own interest nonverbally to see if he happened to be interested in return.

And he was. Of course, his gaze flicked to find Cid and while the relationship between those two seemed friendly and mentorship, he wouldn't step on toes out here in such an obvious way.

Yet, the idea flew from his head at the way that Clive looked at him, and they always said that the eyes were the gateway to the soul. It seemed true here because he could see that hunger lurking on the other side of those blue eyes, and he experienced a twisted ugly slither of kinship. He expected that's how he looked if he thought too long of his Shimmer experience or the aftermath of coming down from that horrible high before the pick of his nerves for another opportunity, an excuse to let loose, to give in to the want. Like a yawning cavern in the pit of the earth to just fall into its embrace and lose oneself.

The confirmation and the intensity of their locked gazes and for a single second - here and gone again - his grey eyes seemed to reflect a glowing magenta. He blinked his eyes and it disappeared. A trick of the light?]

That's a description that I can relate to. [In more ways than one.] Hunched over a desk filling out the ledgers and calculating for the quotas; I never was much of a desk man. [It was a half truth, a cover for the more recent release that he had wrestled back deep inside like a nugget at the center of his grief.

His hand moved as he felt the warmth of Clive's skin against his own, his pinky finger moving to briefly catching the younger man in a confirmation that he did understand and he could support that internal battling in his own way. Also, perhaps it was confirmation that he was interested well beyond the realm of the current topic of conversation, though it didn't last as they parted.

He bet down, opening his pack and pulling out a bottle of dark amber liquid and unscrewing the top to pour into his own empty cup.]

There's always a work around, isn't there? People covet that power because we are never seemingly satisfied with the innate power that we're born with and can learn. Apparently we have something similar to the mothercrystals but it's called hextech. Normal people potentially wielding a power they don't understand.

[He looked at Clive at the word curse, and it may be as close to spitting one that he had experienced so far. There was history there, a painful one. He intended to ask about it but not here, not now.

Instead, he stood and wiggled the bottle at Clive.] That beer was terrible. Want some whiskey instead? I brought the good stuff, but if it's not your palate, I also have gin and vodka.

whiskey probably doesn't exist in Valisthea but w/e Clive seems like a whiskey man

[herofhopeless]

[While Clive wasn’t normally much of a betting man, his desire to do anything that might engage this man further claws at him. He had already made one bet on this fight with a wager simple enough. Why not one more? Clive looked back out to Odin and Bahamut’s practice war, watched Bahamut twist through the air in a graceful way one would not think a being of his size capable.]

Why not? I find wagering other things more interesting than coin anyway.

[Clive looks back to Vander, body still slightly turned towards the other man. There was a pull about him, something that Clive found interesting that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was more here, something deeper to this man and Clive wanted to know what it was. What stories did he have?]

What kind of bet were you thinking?

[Clive thinks about their conversation earlier and figures that Vander will bet on Odin. It is a safe bet, a good one. One that he made earlier. But maybe he could make a more nuanced bet here, put his bet on Dion’s strength and skill, his intelligence. Clive did have the benefit of knowing both of the combatants and, if he wanted to win, he should use that. But what would he want that he didn’t want to achieve on his own?

Clive glances to see where Vander looks and sees Cid standing near the keg, talking to other people with that casual charm he has. He looks back at Vander and briefly quirks an eyebrow. He was worried about Cid somehow. Why?

Clive loses the train of thought almost as soon as it comes to him when Vander’s eyes meet his again. There was something there, something that matched that gaping maw inside of him and it made Clive reflexively take half a step closer. Clive’s lips part just a fraction when he sees that magenta sheen and his fingers twitch with the desire to reach up and touch Vander’s face. A hunger a flavor or two away from Ifrit’s burns through him to rest low in his abdomen. ]

Not much of a desk man, either. I’m more of a hands-on kind of person.

[Clive wants to chase that slight brush, the gentle touch against him, but Vander turns. Clive blinks, spell temporarily broken. He knows that it will be back. If Vander looks at him again like that, he knows he’ll fall right back in. This was not new exactly but not familiar.]

People tend to find ways to covet what they can’t have, it’s true.

[Clive knows a bit about that, but not when it comes to power and not something he thought he would know until he came here.]

And when they don’t understand the consequences of those things, people get hurt. Frequently irreversably. Sometimes fatally.
[He sighs. Sounds like some things don’t change, no matter where someone is from.

Clive doesn’t break his eye contact with Vander. He stands by what he said, is not ashamed of it. If the other man wanted to ask, he could. Clive didn’t know if he would answer, but he didn’t shut the idea down.

Thankfully, that tension is broken at Vander’s offer and the tension in Clive, the conviction of his beliefs, are tempered. He chuckles just a little.]

It really was. [Clive offers his cup.] I would love some whiskey.

[Although good whiskey ought to be savored and not from a disposable cup, but it had been a while since he was able to indulge in that sort of decadence. Maybe another time, if he could find it. Vander worked at a bar. Perhaps he could try it there.]

[cantilevers]

[Vander paused and took Clive's measure when it came to potentially betting, trying to discern what would be appropriate to wager in a win and loss scenario on his part. He had the impression that their interaction so far was leading down a particular path, but how much of that was casual fun flirting and how much of it held an undercurrent of intent? The younger man seemed eager.

He made a point of scratching fingers through his beard as he allowed his eyes to crawl over Clive from the tip of the other man's boots up and up to that teasing clothing and then to the broad set of shoulders then column of neck and finally the messy yet still alluring set of Clive's hair. He hummed softly, considering.]

Winner takes all bet, alright? How about if I win the bet, you have to tell me a secret of yours. [He decided against a kiss, thinking it too obvious and maybe desperate on his part. Play it cool, Vander!] And if you win... well, what would it be that you want me to do for you?

[He didn't know Dion enough to make a judgment on the winner, but Barnabas's massive form seemed a good choice. Then again, were either of them actually going to lose in this betting scenario? It was shaping up that they might both win regardless, and he found those bets to be a different kind of high stake.

He noted the half step, experiencing a pull to it himself. His hand reached out to brush against Clive's gloved one. Annoying but still acceptable. To cover up his indiscretion, he stepped in and lightly knocked their shoulders in a friendly gesture.]

You and I both then. I've always been the physical action type, though social situations are always interesting.

[He nodded, reminding of the angry righteous feelings of his youth when it came to the oppressive powers over him and his people. He had wanted to rip power away from topside and make them struggle like the rest of them. He still wanted that, but it was tempered with actual expectation of elevating everyone.]

Usually yeah. It's all fun and games until someone is killed then the reality of the situation is impressed on the wielder. Well... sometimes.

[He had never wanted to know magic, but he knew people that did. He had never wanted to be exposed to hextech as he had, and yet he would live with that knowledge of the destruction it and he was capable of. Now it was paired with the knowledge of what he would be forced to become...

He brought his cup to his lips to hide the pain of that memory, the first to break eye contact with Clive this time. He purposefully forced his focus on the battle that raged on, forcing tension expertly from his own frame to cover up the disquiet within him that he was pushing down, down, down.

Let them enjoy whiskey, he thought. It wasn't a casual drink, shouldn't be drank like this, but who was he to care about decorum anyway? A drink was a drink, and he found the company more than made up for everything else. The bottle ended up back into his bag, allowing anyone showing up to focus on the keg of warm beer instead.]

Do you think others will join into this sparring match? [Safe subject change on top of everything else.]

[herofhopeless]

[What did he want? The question bounces around as Clive chews on it. He didn’t want anything related to his desire for the man. He wants to take that himself and isn’t going to risk losing any kind of advantage there by making a bet on it. Also, if he wanted to be blatantly obvious about his desire, he would just say it. No point in wasting an opportunity.

Then Vander’s eyes start roaming and Clive knoww. He won’t be needing that bet. The fire that always felt like it was flickering under his skin starts to burn hotter. Clive relaxes his body and tilts his already raised chin a little to the side, exposing just a bit more of his throat, enough to be an invitation, a promise for the future if he so chooses.

Once Vander finishes his exploration, Clive returns back to the default position he had been in. If the night goes the way he wants it to, Vander will have plenty opportunity to see as much of Clive’s skin as he wants.]

A secret. [Clive thinks for a moment.] Okay. But under the stipulation that I won’t tell you until tomorrow.

[Might as well bite that bullet. He won’t be able to keep being the vessel from Vander long. This man was too smart. But not tonight. He wanted tonight. He needed tonight. To just be a man with an ability that Vander was new to, not a man to be pitied or feared or anything else. The pulse of that need sent a stab of ice through him, tempering that fire just a bit.]

Let me think a minute.

[And then Vander’s hand was brushing his. Clive almost snatched it back, was going to, but then their shoulders were bumping and the distance was too far. It would feel strange now, reaching out for something that was already taken back. No. Not taken back. Just moved.

Clive scoffs a laugh at Vander’s comment, but it comes out bitter. If only ‘sometimes’ was the case back home. Life might be a little easier for everyone if that were true.

There was something in Vander that tenses, though. Clive watches him, eyes sharp. Was this painful for him somehow? A small part of Clive mourns the loss of eye contact, but it also gives him the opportunity to scrutinize Vander a bit closer. His brows furrow as he watches the tension deliberately wash out of him. He knows that stance. He has both seen and done it too many times to count.

There was something there and Clive wants to know what it is. Disregarding Vander’s comment about the sparring match, Clive closes the distance between the two of them and finally reaches up. He turns Vander’s face gently towards him so he can look him in those rather entrancing grey eyes and rests gloved fingertipss almost inperceptively on one strong cheekbone.]

My bet. I want to know what that was. What you just thought.

[Clive slowly let’s his hand fall but instead of returning it to his side he rests it on Vander’s arm, the one that is unoccupied by the cup.]

Also not tonight. By the end of the week at the latest. Now, if that is an acceptable wager, what is your bet?

[cantilevers]

[It was the contrast of obvious looks and subtle gestures that intrigued him, and it also provided him a sense of the kind of man that Clive was. Perceptive, controlled, and empathetic. The younger man's body language shifted, ebbed and flowed from restrained to flirty to desirable without effort. There was nuance in the performance. There was no doubt that's what he and Clive were doing, showing each other's cards slowly and slyly as the maneuvered through this conversation.

The words were only one layer, but the looks, the tip of chin, the brush of fingers held a language all their own. It took a special kind of person to be able to ease into such a dance with proficiency, and that made Clive both intriguing and dangerous. Like Maria, there was potential for Vander to reveal too much and it not to be overlooked.

Yet, the danger was attractive. Maybe it was part and parcel of the self destructive path that he was treading, but he relished the idea of having to put effort to hide but also to reveal what he wished to.]

Tomorrow? [His eyes flicked from the column of neck to the battle, and the intentions were clear: they would see each other again. Sooner than later.] Sounds to me like you're planning on either spending the night or showing up on my doorstep for another conversation. [He raised an eyebrow as if expecting Clive to reveal which of the two options it was, though in reality, it mattered not at all to him.] Careful, I might start to experience the idea that you might like me.

[And like the rest of the ebb and flow of their little dance with each other, Vander felt the conversation close for a moment as he wrangled his potentially rogue emotions back into the center. It took too long, especially for someone perceptive because Clive was in his personal space a second after he had thought himself back to rights again.

He inhaled sharply, eyes snapping over to stare at the younger man as clothed fingers closed on his face. He stiffened across the shoulders as his face was turned and they faced each other full on in an otherwise side-by-side revelry of one another's presence. The air around them felt both electrically charged and oppressively heavy, yet he found his focus on the warmth that bled through Clive's gloves into the skin of his cheek.

He opened his mouth to pass off the moment then closed it again. He stepped in, crowding Clive with his larger body as he slipped an arm around the younger man's slim but muscled waist. He stood like that as Clive's hand dropped away and came to rest on his other arm, and their game had taken an escalating turn.]

Not tonight. [Agreement. Revealing a vulnerability later then.] My money is on dragon. Tenacious, agile, the underdog in this spar. He has the will to put everything into this spar because I expect he knows what it feels like to lose. I never underestimate the underdog.

[He leaned in so he could put his mouth by Clive's ear.] Which means... you're taking the big guy, yes? You watch him differently than you do the dragon, by the way.

[herofhopeless]

[It is entrancing, this strange dance they are doing. Clive had watched this sort of thing happen to others, playfully flirted back with a friend once or twice, but he rarely felt the urge to do it himself. But this? He was beginning to see why people enjoyed this. Clive most certainly would not do this with many people, but Vander is intriguing . He is experienced but still leaves room for Clive to experiment and, for lack of a better term, play. He likes the back and forth. They both do.

Clive was no stranger to the nuances of language, how much of communication wasn’t said in words but in actions, gestures, facial expressions, body tension or relaxation. He wasn’t always the best with words. It was easier like this, one-on-one, but even when words failed him his body did not. And when his body failed him, words picked up the slack. This was so much more than any of that.

He also feels seen by the man before him and, startlingly enough, he is relishing it. What a strange night this was becoming.]

That - [The little smirk that Vander is treated to is cheeky but combined with his heavy stare, full of promise.] - Would be the point, Vander.

[Sometimes it was fun to just be obvious, too. Especially after some dancing around sprinkled in with the overt expressions of interest. There is a part of Clive that wants to push through all of this, say fuck it and just go for it, stop dancing around but he tempers that, puts a calming hand on it and makes promises for the future.

A promise that is rapidly being fulfilled. As Vander steps in, Clive feels his heart pound harder in anticipatory excitement and when that arm goes around his waist? Both devilish and divine. Clive lets himself melt into it, sighing at the feeling of being so close. Clive drags his hand up to leave it on Vander’s upper arm, relishing in feeling the flex of muscle there.]

Interesting. [Clive’s voice was low as he looked up into Vander’s eyes.] Dion has a dedication that few do and the motivation to continue to improve. As far as bets go, I wouldn’t discount it.

[Dion’s sense of honor would probably also be appalled that Clive was down here betting on his spar while being held almost flush to a man he had just met. Come to think of it, Barnabas’ sense of honor might also lead to taking offense at the bet.

Before any other thought has the time to raise its head, Vander’s mouth is so close to Clive’s ear that he can feel the words just as well as he can hear them. A shiver slides down his spine and he grips Vander’s arm. Oh, that was not fair.]

I can take him.

[As if of its own accord, Clive finds his hand moving up to Vander’s shoulder. The reasonable side of him, the little voice that was usually so much louder, was reminding him that they were, in fact, still in public, but it was drowned in the feeling of how all-ecompassing Vander was, his heat, how his hand felt on his waist, the sound of his voice rumbling in his ear.

And now was not the time he wanted to think about Barnabas fucking Tharmr. He tries to banish the sudden image of those piercing steel eyes, and yet, he picks at the scab.

He breaths his next words into Vander’s ear, returning the favor.]

Do you really want to be talking to me about how I look at another man right now?

[cantilevers]

[There was a thrill in the slow reeling in of someone who was clearly interested. Normally, he was less affected as he was the one in more control of the situation and considered himself having less stakes. He had experience and skill, so he tended to be able to draw people in slowly and effectively for a positive result. Sometimes not, and he found that fine.

This guy? He had no idea how Clive had managed it so easily because he did not normally engage so overtly because of his own want and desires to push things along. He could trace it back to the moment where they had made eye contact and observed the same beast in each other, that hunger that had no name and was a constant fight each day. People existed, of course, yet Clive had seemed to pin his heart to his spine with how similar their reactions were to it. Fight it. Push it down. Endure. Be strong.

Things were progressing fast and very publicly, which he was keenly aware of. He shifted his weight on his feet when Clive made a point of the intentions to spend the night together. So crass after their little subtleties and no doubt completely on purpose which drew a charming smirk from him.]

Is it? You're actually going to take home a guy you just met and experience a night of debauchery, are you? What if I'm a bad person. [He was not. His tone indicated he was teasing, ribbing Clive's obvious enthusiasm for them spending more time together.

It was also infectious. He had made the assumption a little make-out, maybe mutual orgasms as a gift and then parting ways. It seems his assumptions were misconstrued.

His arm tightened when Clive tucked in against him, feeling the hard lines of the younger man's body. The sparring match became distant noise as he had leaned in close, and Clive's scent filled his nose even as they whispered to each other. Like they were sharing secrets, which perhaps the younger man actually was with the question. The corner of his lip returned to a smirk as he turned his face so he could rest the side of his nose against Clive's ear and his temple against the side of the younger man's head.]

Take him, hmm? Is that what you want at the end of all of this? [Not this encounter but perhaps after some undisclosed period of time. There was something complicated happening to which he didn't know the details of. Perhaps he could find out. Perhaps Clive would tell him.

The hand on his shoulder was grounding, and he dared to brush his lips over the shell of Clive's ear as his fingers tried to slip up the back of the other man's tight-fitting shirt, thankful for the cape to cover his teasing.]

Depends. He's easy on the eyes, and I assume you two have an unnecessarily complicated history. I'm not the jealous type, but I'll show you stars if the other guy won't or can't. [He had no idea as to the nature of the Barnabas-Clive relationship, but he could turn whatever it was on its head for his own flirting.]

[herofhopeless]

[For whatever reason, this interaction with Vander felt so natural. Like it was meant to happen. They fit, the reflection of that need. Clive thought about how he might be able to satiate even a morsel of that hunger and he knew that the man wrapped around him, the man under his hand, was a key to that. If it wouldn’t have been rude and wasteful, Clive would have dropped the cup to free both hands. He wanted to feel this man. He needed to feel this man.

This place was too public and they were both wearing too much clothing.

The thought was startling, but somehow not surprising. Clive did go out with the intention of following the advice he received from Sophie. He just didn’t imagine he would find someone so quickly and who seemed to have sunk a lure into his torso and pulled.]

That wasn’t the original intention. [His voice was gruffer than he thought it would have been, dripping with want.] But you are difficult to resist.

[Fuck it. He needed to be closer somehow. His body was screaming for it. Clive lifted his free arm and rested it on Vander’s shoulder, letting the cup dangle from his fingers. For Vander, who grew up in scarcity, he wouldn’t waste it no matter how badly he wanted to just put the damn thing down.

A tremble shook through Clive’s body at the feeling of Vander getting closer to the sensitive skin near his ear. Clive found himself reflexively tilting his head, exposing his neck to the older man just a bit more.]

He’s stubborn. And intriguing.

[Clive breathed shakily into Vander’s ear. Oh, those lips brushing against his ear like that, the hand finding its way to the smallest patch of skin. Clive feels his interest pressing up against the other man. He was doomed. Was he doomed from the moment he saw him? Maybe.]

Vander -

[He almost quietly moans the name. Almost. A promise for the future.]

He won’t. He wants me, but he won’t.

[Sliding his hand up even further, Clive ran gloved fingers over Vander’s neck, pushing them up his jaw, wondering what that beard would feel like on bare skin, and into the hair at the base of the other man’s neck. He tilted his head again so his lips brushed against Vander’s ear when he next whispered.]

Show me the heavens.

[cantilevers]

[There was a kinetic draw between them, like a machine belt pulled too tight and struggling not to snap or contract down again. It seemed that he had been pulled into Clive's gravitational pull or perhaps it was more accurate that they had been pulled to circle each other now that they had met. Text was fine, but here? It was an electrical connection, like touching a livewire.

Restraint was fraying. This was too public; Zaun cared little about such public interactions, but there was consideration that Cid who knew them both was here. He also wouldn't wish to tarnish Clive's reputation, whatever that may be.]

Am I? Compliments like that will get you anywhere, Clive. [He spoke the younger man's name with a purposefully breathy timber.] What were your original intentions, hmm? Quick fling and leave me to my lonesome? Or no fling at all?

[He hadn't moved his mouth, yet the sound of clashing still washed over them as they stood together. His own cup was clutched in the hand not currently around Clive's waist, and he was keenly aware that freeing up the spare hand would signal certain doom to their restraint. They had to hold on, to unravel each other further because Vander knew the longer the flirting, the better the feelings later.

His fingers crawled up the back of Clive's shirt, lifting it due to both the size of his hand and the tightness of the material. He could feel it bunching a little against his own stomach, and the moment he felt Clive's interest, he shifted his weight so he could slide a knee against the bulge to provide something for the younger man to rut against.

His smile should be felt against Clive's ear as he hadn't pulled away, listening more to the tone of the younger man's voice than the words when it came to Barnabas. He hummed as if considering the limited knowledge he had of Barnabas both from their fight and Cid.]

You two are complicated then. [A fact as far as he was concerned.] Do you want him to have you, Clive?

[At the request, he dropped his mouth from poised at Clive's ear so he could pepper chaste teasing kissing down the column of that neck. He stepped in a touch with the intent to slide a thigh between Clive's legs.]

Not here. Our options are leave the fight or find somewhere secluded around these parts. [A pause as he considered the third option.] Or we break apart and find each other again later if you're still feeling like you want this.

[herofhopeless]

[Clive’s restraint was falling apart and if he didn’t do something and soon his mouth would be on Vander’s and they would be doomed. Those lips with their perfect bow and bottom lip practically made for biting. The scratch of his beard against Clive’s skin. The breath that was so tantalizing already mixing with his own.]

How much of a compliment is it if it is the truth? [This was a genuine question but Clive couldn’t help how breathy his voice was. Oh the way Vander said his name. What would it be like, pinning under him, hearing it again?] See you. See if I wanted you. Take you to bed. [Clive’s hand in Vander’s hair gripped tighter.] Play.

[As Vander’s hand finds more skin to touch, his hand all encompassing, Clive bit back a curse. This was so much but in a way he never expected it to be. Was this what Sleipnir meant when he talked to him about being taken care of sensually? Maybe. But oh that hand. He yearned to have those hands on him everywhere.]

Complicated is a good word for it. [Clive sighs internally. He would really rather be focusing on Vander. The point of this was to stop thinking about Barnabas, not explain to a man he was in the middle of seducing what his relationship with the King of Waloed was.] I want to take him apart piece by piece, find out everything that makes him squirm and moan. Find every last spot that he likes. [Every word drops from Clive’s mouth like an insinuation, an invitation for Vander to do the same.]

[In a feat of daring on Clive’s part, he breathes out on Vander’s ear, lips brushing near his earlobe and licks, sliding his tongue slowly along the shell of the older man’s ear. Despite his bravery here, Clive tries desperately not to grind his hips against the leg offered. It would be uncomfortable in these pants before long, but the friction would be delicious.]

You - [Restraint decides to take a longer breather and, at the feeling of lips against the delicate skin of his throat his hips to make a slow roll against that powerful thigh. Finally, a low and quiet moan escapes Clive’s lungs and washes over Vander’s neck.

His brain unhelpfully supplies the memory of Barnabas pressing him against the wall, doing the same. Clive slams the lid on that memory and grounds himself on Vander’s voice.]

That… is a difficult decision.

[Waiting would make this all the better, but he wanted this man right now. With great difficulty, Clive leans back far enough to bring his cup to his lips, taking a sip and letting the liquor gloss his lips in a wet sheen. His pupils are wide and his lids heavy as he makes eye contact with Vander.]

Not here, though. I don’t want this to be quick.

[Clive slides his other hand back out of Vander’s hair and moves to cup his jaw.]

I want us to take our time.

[cantilevers]

[Vander huffed a soft amused sound at Clive's earnest truthfulness, finding its presence to be endearing and heart-warming. It took their teasing to wholesome grounds, and he felt the urge to protect this young man which was not unusual for him. He had no doubt that Clive could take care of himself, but he thought of safeguarding the emotions that he was picking up over the course of their conversation.]

So you planned on deflowering me from the start, is that it? I like the honesty, Clive. [While it was an innocent tease, it was also the truth. He found cutting through the nonsense and bullshit was worthwhile for men like them. Empathetic, earnest, youthful. He remembered what that was like.] I'm not sure you're prepared for will happen in this playground, Clive.

[And maybe that was the point: the mystery. They had connected instantly on the network and it was only deepening here in person. What Clive may not realize was the information that was being openly provided, of desires well beyond Vander himself, offered freely and starkly out of place yet still complimentary to the situation they currently found themselves in.

Clive was infatuated with Barnabas. He was a stand in for potentially some confrontation or conversation he was unaware of. He didn't mind in the least, especially knowing what he was dealing with. There was a soft huff of pleasure from him, detecting the double meaning. Clive voicing his own desires as a frustration placed on another man who was distant and out of reach for the time being.]

Quite the vivid image you're painting. That will take time, learning all those secrets, probably even more than one night. You sure that's what you want?

[He knew it was. Clive was too earnest for it to be any other way. And the lick to his ear? It caused a shiver to run down his spine, a renewed press of his body against Clive's as his lips found the edge of the shirt collar so he had to change directions and kiss his way back up the way he had journeyed on Clive's neck, taking a moment to suck a wet spot on a portion of that strong jaw.

Vander dropped his near empty cup to the ground, intent to pick it up later. A little leftover whiskey splashed on the grass, but he ignored it as his hand moved in to settle on Clive's side, walking over the spaces of muscle between ribs then up and around the back of the younger man's shoulder so he could twirl his fingers in some of that silken hair in return.]

We're in the wrong place for taking our time in privacy. [His mouth reluctantly moved away, peering over Clive's shoulder to study the landscape.] Stand of trees over there? Or wherever you're living? After all, how closely are you actually following this battle right now?

[He knew they needed to pull apart. There was no way someone hadn't noticed their physical closeness. The moment they walked away with each other, the onlookers would understand their intent. The only boon was the battle raging keeping attention.

Yet, Vander was older and had more restraint so he slowly began to withdrawal, smoothing his hands over Clive's body as he shifted his weight as a signal they should part. Would Clive listen? He had no idea.]

[herofhopeless]

[Clive leaned back in to press a ghost of a kiss to the side of Vander’s neck and smiled at the sound of that little huff. He wondered what a full laugh would sound like from this man. A soft chuckle, a full-bodied one, a surprised laugh. Laughter was a balm to the soul and the sound of it always made Clive feel just a little bit better. Despite the scenario, a sense of calm teased at the edges.

Smile still in place, Clive chuckles.]

If you are a man who still has a flower to pick I will eat my own boot. [Clive found himself nuzzling at the spot behind Vander’s ear. He was debating the merits of licking there too.] I’m a big boy. I can handle it.

[Oh how badly he wanted to let go, let someone else take care of things, stop thinking, step out of his mind and into his body. There was no responsibility here. No real knowledge of his past or what his future held. Just these strong arms, the soul-searing voice, the desire for more. Maybe another day they could talk. Clearly Vander wanted to, but he didn’t want it to be today. He needed to let go.]

I want it.

[So badly.

Clive nuzzles in, finally deciding to press a kiss to that hidden spot behind Vander’s ear.]

Do you?

[Clive was thinking about it, not just one night but many spread out underneath this man. On top of him, surrounded by him, all encompassing. Clive wondered briefly if anyone else could do this the way Vander could and he came up with nothing. And then Vander was sucking on his skin and all thoughts derailed again. The cup in his hand forgotten, falling to the ground. One hand went back into that full hair and the other clutched Vander’s chest.

And fuck his hands. This wasn’t enough. They needed to get out of here, go somewhere private where he could finally rid them both of these clothes and feel those hands on his skin. Everywhere.

Clive relished the last touches of Vander’s hands and took a deep breath, also extricating himself from the other.]

Where I live.

[Clive reluctantly out of Vander’s grasp and slid his hand into his and pulled.]

This way.

[And if he power walked who could blame him. With that body he knew Vander could keep up.]