thearena | Not really sure how to feel about it, something in the way you move

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Not really sure how to feel about it, something in the way you move

When the idea occurred to him that last week, all calling up memory of Valentines day, he laughed at himself. He laughed and immediately folded his hand over his heart, asking nice for that think what he so had scoffed at the year prior. And here it was, come to him. A whole thing done up of rihonkulous heart shaped food-goods. He remembers throwing the cake at her, calling her a reprobate and making face at her mockery. He remembers taking the idea of redrom with her up in disgust. He remembers be a fucking idiot.

He walks through the woods, watching the trees high for movement familiar. If she's going to be anywhere, it'll be here.

He whistles the song what all Signless sang, when it was she and him and his ownself, all dancing togetherlike before. She'll recognize it, he hopes. Safer than calling her name anyway. He keeps going until he finds her. Then he grins wide, a fluttering up in his guts like he could fly to her.

"HEY SISTER. Been looking for you. WAS WONDERING. You ain't doing nothing this evening is you? MAYBE GOT A LITTLE TIME TO COME DOWN AND SEE THIS CLOWN HERE?" He laughs. He's got the goods all hidden up inside his backpack. For now.

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He watches the trees, and funny enough, he's not wrong. She's taken to them like a fish takes to water; like a bird takes to the air. Or maybe a dragon is more apt in this case...

Regardless, she's in the trees when he finds her. The song that he whistles certainly does help. She hears it long before he finds her, and it's only because of that that he does find her at all. It keeps her from fleeing for the safety of the higher branches and the foliage of the canopy above them. Already on her feet, she instead eases back into a sitting position on her chosen limb, listening to the sound come closer and closer.

He grins wide up at her, and she can't help but grin back. She gives a little wave in response. "Nope. No plans here. Aside from hiding for my life from whoever else might be out there." But not from this one. She knows well enough that she'll never need to hide from him for any reason.

"I guess I can come down," she sighs, keeping her voice low enough to only hear in the distance between them. She grabs the limb and starts scaling down to the ground, throwing a teasing remark over her shoulder: "Since you're probably shit at climbing anyway."

He barks a laugh, trying to look insulted and mostly failing up at it. Then he gives up and grins.

"S'alright. CAN'T BE PERFECT NOW. Had to share some genes with them other grubs and all. GENEROUS LIKE THAT, AM I BEING." He winks at her. She reaches the ground and he reaches for her hand, going as all to kiss the top of it.

Then he's stepping back, kneeling, and digging on into that backpack. "Got us something I did," He says. "GOT A FEELING AS YOU'D LIKE IT. Cover your nose."

He waits for her to do so, looking expectant that she even will.

The kiss to the back of her hand earns him a much more embarrassed smile. There's a flutter in her own chest now, too, but she tries not to make a big deal about this. His mannerisms are endearing, even moreso when they're hers and hers alone. She doesn't want the Capitol taking that and running with it.

He asks her to cover her nose, and she's pretty sure that he's the only one who could ask that of her and get away with it inside an arena. She gives him a look in return for his expectant one, but ultimately sighs and obliges him by covering her face with her hands--eyes, nose, and mouth included.

"What kind of supplies have to be made into a surprise?" she mutters, her voice understandably muffled.

He goes all pleased as she listens and does as he asks. He stifles his laughs, and dives on into the backpack for pulling out what at he needs to.

He pulls the blanket out first, kick this shit picnic style. Then comes that big pot all full of goods. Breads, cakes, candies, meats, all the best stuff as to be having, a full proper miracle meal done heart shaped, just for them. He lays it on out nice.

"ONLY THE MOTHERFUCKING BEST KINDS," He says. "Breathe it in, best sister."

He sits there, grinning smug. He knows she'll recognize.

Terezi listens to him shuffling with the backpack, her curiosity growing with each ruffle and scrap of items being withdrawn. She guesses at the blanket when she hears it, but she's unsure of what he intends to do with it. The rest of the goods are impossible to discern from sound alone. She's just beginning to get antsy when he finally tells her her to take a sniff.

As soon as she pulls her hands away, Terezi does recognize the scent of the things laid in front of her. She's a little overwhelmed, not only by the amount of food laid out, but also the reminder of the events that happened last year. It felt so long ago--not just a year but a whole lifetime. Back when she had first proposed to him as an auspictice. And now here they were, matesprits.

She laughs a little to relieve the feeling in her chest. "Really? Is it that time again already?" She smiles and it's a little distant, but only because of the distraction that the food represents. She surveys it again, shaking her head. "...Did you get me some kind of shield for when you inevitably throw cake at me again?"

A part of him held some nervousness for if she'd find it foolish, overly sentimental, a waste when he could have made plea for a weapon of some kind. He worried she might have forgotten. But she doesn't disappoint him.

He laughs as well and has to say, "NOPE. Couldn't bear taking on out half the fun!" Of course, he's got the lid to that pot in his backpack, but if that's going to be for anybody, it'll be for him, he thinks smug.

But first, he's going to reach out for her hand. "WILL A SISTER JOIN?"

This is silly, she thinks to herself, but not without fondness. Out in the middle of a snowy arena, and he wants to have a picnic. A matesprit-themed picnic. She gives a cursory sniff over her shoulders, not finding anything immediately threatening. There's always the Gamemakers to worry about, but... Well, if they sent these things, then they were obviously meant to use them. Somehow, she doesn't think they'll be interrupted.

She places her hand in his, trying not to smile too wide and failing terribly. "How could I not?"

He doesn't much care what it looks like. A matesprit themed picnic in an arena of ice and snow is hardly the strangest thing they've done. He's not sure he'd be bothered if as it even was.

He can't feel out with voodoo if they're alone, a damn shame that, but he likewise thinks they won't be bothered. The Capitol would want this to go well. He'd hear anyone or anything coming anyway.

The grin upon her face makes it all worth it. His fingers curl around hers and draw her close. He smiles up at her and then press his lips to her hand. And now she may sit.

The tint of teal to her cheeks isn't just from the cold. Terezi squeezes his hand after he kisses it, taking a seat on the edge of the cloth. Reluctantly, she lets his hand go so that she can inventory the food laid out in front of them. It smells so good, but she knows better than to eat all of it. It would be better to ration it out.

Still, they're probably expected to give a show with this treat. A bit of quid pro quo. That much she can do easily.

"It smells delicious," she breathes, leaning down to the food and catching a good whiff in the cold air. Her attentions draws to a familiar cake, and she laughs a little. "Even one of these... Someone has a good memory." Either that, or they dug up the re-runs just for the occasion.

The only truly unfortunate thing about it is that they can't simply indulge. But that'll be later, back in the capitol when they're both returned alright. He's still glad for all they've got and presentation certainly makes on counting for something.

Even if he's mostly watching her. Only watching her. A fond smile on his face and a soft distant wonder in his eyes. A smile that scrunches up when all she laughs.

"Asked it all exact. BY WHAT ALL GOT DONE YEARWAYS PAST, I DID SO REQUEST. Thought you'd get a kick on out." And them, also, but he couldn't give a fuck for them.

"I do. I have gotten at least five kicks. That is a lot of kicks." She grins at him, not her typical sly toothy grin, but one that's much warmer and more open. She pities this dumb troll so much, and these small gestures of romance towards her really aren't helping anything on that front.

She readjusts her position at the blanket, scooting herself closer to him and then reaching forward for the heart cake. She breaks a small section of it off, but instead of eating it herself, she holds it up towards him.

"Open up."

"IT MAY ALMOST MAKE ON TOO MANY KICKS. Would be some kind of terrible, that. BUT STILL WITHIN KICKING REGULATIONARIES, SO SHE HAS BEEN MOTHERFUCKING DEEMED." That's the best smile. His favourite of her smiles. Maybe his favourite one all the fuck together.

She pulls in close and his ears perk up. He is pretty damn content right now. Though he falters just once, just a little bit, over being asked to open up-- just a quick flash of apprehension, of being all too aware of his tongue-- it passes.

He opens his mouth obedient, showing his many fangs with a faint laugh.

The faltering of his expression passes from him to her in brief succession. She realizes where his thoughts went first, and she almost wants to pull away at the reminder. But he obliges her, and she doesn't want to ruin this moment. She tries to put the thought aside as well.

Most couples might do the whole feeding each other with a cute tender moment, and perhaps that's what the Capitol is expecting of them... They never were good at predicting troll behavior.

As soon as Kurloz opens his mouth and flashes those sharp teeth, Terezi is shoving the piece of cake messily into his mouth. If her aim is entirely off, and part of the cake bits mush against his cheek? Totally not her fault. She's blind, remember?

"Shit," she curses, looking genuinely dismayed for approximately .2 seconds before grinning again. "I missed." Well... no surprise there. "You got a little something on your cheek... Here, I'll get it." And she leans forward to lick the bits of cake and icing off of his cheek, near the corner of his mouth.

There's a sounding of 'mmmf!' as exactly what he ought to have expected totally and naturally happens. He jerks back trying not to choke on a motherfucking quadrant cake as he laughs.

He's all thinking to say, traditional manners of doing this is being with pies, but he hasn't swallowed the cake down yet. And he's certainly not able to form words as she goes on to lick the cake right off his motherfucking face.

His eyes go wide and round, his face coloring all up underneath the paint and remaining cake. When he finally does swallow, he goes to lick his lips. Namely around that cornerside.

Holy shit.

He starts on leaning forward, like all to kiss her, one hand going to cup her face.

And the other going to do the same with a palm full of his own cake.

He leans forward to kiss her, and Terezi goes to meet him halfway. What she gets instead is cake. A fistful of cake. She really should have known that was coming...

She makes a muffled noise of surprised, her hands coming up to shove his away from her mouth. She swallows what he managed to get into her mouth, the rest of it smeared on her face. She wipes some of it away, spitefully cleaning her hands on his arm. The look that she gives him is almost hilariously murderous--right up until she grabs his collar and yanks him down towards her.

Despite the roughness, her mouth is soft and warm compared to the bitter cold around them. Her eyes close out of reflex. The kiss tastes... sweet, unsurprisingly. Like cake, to be precise, but she can still taste that familiar flavor of blackberries underneath the sugary sweetness.

Her teeth catch on his lip--purposely. He's not getting off that easily for his retaliation.

He laughs. A loud 'HA!' followed by several honks and much cackling. That murderous look just makes it all the worse. They both match now, all cake covered. His shoulders are shaking.

The kiss takes him by surprise. A motherfucker would get thinking he'd all learned on this shit by motherfucking now as to be expecting. But she's always been one as to do what he didn't all expect.

His own eyes close and he wraps his cake covered arms on around her, pulling her close despite the mess of them. He's not got such abilities sensitive for the taste of a person beyond the icing upon him. All he knows is that it's Terezi, she's kissing him, and he pities her so damn much.

He kisses back hard, just that side of desperate for it, for her. Her teeth catch his lip and send a spark right down his spine. He is not quiet for it. But hell if he going to drag his fangs along also, just to get back.

That bit of encouragement is all she needs. She can feel the desperation in his kisses, and that only makes hers more of the same. Their kisses up until now have been mostly sweet and gentle, but there's a fire to this one that Terezi would be hard-pressed to say that she didn't like. It's a little bit desperate and a little bit greedy, with tongue and teeth and lips. There's a moment where she's almost certain that she must be bleeding, but past that initial thought, she doesn't care.

Her hands reach up, lacing fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She pulls a little and drags her nails, partly for grip and partly in retaliation for the stinging of her lips.

It's really a wonder this hasn't happened sooner. Maybe he was still scared, maybe their situation just hadn't really afforded it up at all. But she bit first and those doors kept shut have burst wide open.

He tastes the blood, all familiar but for it being warmer than him and cooler than most others. He wants to be guilty, tries to muster, and fails. All what she gets for that is the faintest lick over the cut, teal getting up in his teeth.

He's still kissing her when she's tuggin' his hair, her nails drag along his skin. He presses closer to her, back arching, and noise slipping from him into her mouth. He can't even take the time for feeling embarrassment by it.

The noises barely register in Terezi's thoughts as being anything but perfect. Everything is perfect--the taste, the scent, the touch... Him, in general. And yet, it's not even close to being enough. She wants more of it.

But much as it would make her happy to stay in this embrace, eventually Terezi has to pull back for a breath of air. Her head is spinning a little and her lips are stinging and she can still taste that blackberry flavor on her tongue. There's a teal flush across her cheeks that has nothing to do with the cold around her, and her breath comes in little visible puffs.

Wrapped in his arms as she is, she doesn't pull away. Her face lingers close to his, first resting her cheek against his and then nuzzling just a bit. Her nails still dig a little against his skin. She won't be letting go anytime soon.

She pulls away to gasp for breath, and though he does so too, it's not near as desperate. It makes him laugh. He laughs because he's got a greater capacity for breath than her. He laughs because his head is spinning and all is beautiful and he feels so fucking high though he ain't done a damn thing.

There's paint around her lips. That's pretty motherfucking funny too.

He wants to keep hold on her, but he wants to do more. He wants to catch his breath but he doesn't, not at all. She leans in to nuzzle him before he can make up his mind and he returns it. There's something between a hum and a moan from him with her digging nails.

He kisses once more, just a peck this time. He can still taste her on his tongue.

He kisses her again, and she kisses back. But it's not nearly as desperate as before. She's okay with this. There's a lot to be okay with right now, and given where they are... This is okay with her.

She hums back at him with that kiss, opening her bright red eyes and smiling a little sheepishly. It hadn't been her intention to instigate all that, but she isn't going to apologize for it, either.

"Our food is getting cold," she mutters against his lips, not bothering to pull back from the most recent kiss.

A tricksy dragon is she, getting her grin on sheepish as like that. All motherfucking sly his best girl good.

"What a motherfucking travesty," He says back, wholly and entirely pleased with himself. There's the faintest purr in him, in audible, but she's close enough to feel it. He doesn't mind.

She's not much warmer than him, but it's enough that he's happy to try sapping it for his own. Selfish like that is he.

He reaches up with on hand, keeping the other holding her. His thumb goes up to wipe the paint of her face even though, frankly, he thinks she looks lovely with it up and on.

Terezi lets him wipe the paint off her face where it transfer from him to her. She crinkles her nose with each touch, but the movement is teasing at best. For all of her complaining in the past, she barely noticed it in the moment. She barely had reason to.

"Are you cleaning me now?" she jests lightly, even though she doesn't mind the touches to her face. She leans into his hand a little with each movement of his thumb. "I feel like a wriggler being fussed over."

She gets all cute when at her nose crinkles. Makes him chuckle up at her as he goes. He pauses when she taunts, lifting his brows up high.

"SHE WANTS THE PAINT UP ON HER NOW?" He teases in turn. That fuckin so? "You gonna make weird on me or is you going to let me see as you ain't singing blasphemies as you think could stand on as Mirthful praises?"

"I am not the one making this weird." Yes she is, but she laughs anyway. She reaches up to try and rub the rest of the paint off her face. Most of it comes away on her sleeve, but the rest smudges stubbornly against her skin.

"Besides, even if I did want paint--which I don't. But if I did, I wouldn't want it smeared messily all over my face. As your eventual usurping goddess, I would have to have a really cool mask. The coolest, in fact. That is pretty much a rule that I am making right now."

She is absolutely the one making this weird and he knows that she knows it. Yet he laughs too. He watches her try and wipe the paint off, much of it ineffectual. There's a sickeningly fond smile upon his face that is not going away any time soon.

Even when he heathen ass gets calling up inanity and blasphemy as like that.

"YOU STILL AIN'T GOT A SINGLE BIT OF YOU APT FOR THE MOTHER FUCKING FATHOM," He says. "Not all knowing or holding clue as to how it is a faith gets to do. MAKING PREACH LIKE IT'S LAW. Spilling spurious noise like the wicked shit's some sorts politic. YOU CAN'T USURP A GOD, GIRL. Can't stand above what is all and holy. FOR ALL THE PITY UP IN THE WORLD, NEVER WOULD I GET BEING TO WORSHIP NO INSUFFERABLE INFIDEL AS IS LIKE YOU. But do dream the fuck on of maskings."

A sly thought flits across her mind to dare him that she could get him to worship her, but the words never make it to her lips. She flushes a little in the tips of her ears and sets those thoughts aside for...some other time. Later. Much later.

"Fine. Maybe I will," she shoots back to mask her own embarrassment with bravado, but silence trails after it. Her attention shifts up to his own paint--mussed as it is. She reaches up and tries to smudge some of it back into place. Her hands wipes off the paint on his sleeve afterwards.

"...If you could make me a face, what would it look like? Just out of curiosity." She's not of a mind to wear it, but she has to wonder what he might design for her if given half a chance.

He notices the way she flushes more there for no reason as is apparent to him. He looks quizzically upon her, brows lifting. He expects her to tell him what things she's got up in mind or what he may have said that was so off (or correct).

She doesn't though, merely makes feeble attempt on burying it back. He smirks at her, amused, but lets her go otherwise without having to spill what was in pan.

The question surprises him, especially coming from her. He reaches up to brush hair from her face, and though he tries imagining many a thing, what he says is different. "AIN'T MY PLACE TO DEEM PAINT, GIRL. Messiahs do on that. GET THEIR WICKED WHISPERINGS UP AND ON AS WHAT'S RIGHT WHEN TIME IS SO RIGHT. It's a wicked revelation, a moment of blessing most divine and unfuckinforgettable as will define you. IT'S WHEN THEY GET REVEAL ON TO YOU AS YOUR SOUL TRUE, AND SO WITH VISION GIFTED YOU MAY BEAR ITS IMAGE. Something what at you'd be seeking more all than me."

"Oh." She seems almost disappointed by that answer. She's not sure what she was expecting, given how much she already knew about his paint... But it was just a small curiosity. If it was something that would have to be left up to her, then it couldn't be helped. It just wasn't meant to be.

"I suppose I will have to remain maskless, then." She doesn't point out that his Messiahs are never going to 'speak' to her. She's not so sure that his visions and revelations are anything more than delusions and wishful thinking... but she would never have the heart to say that out loud to him anymore.

Disappointment is not what he expected. Even with her having looked so hopeful at him, it doesn't connect that she should disappointed over missing any aspect of the faith.

It saddens him some, that she doesn't believe him in the one thing he's never doubted. It hurts to know that she thinks him fooling himself with his faith, and he does know it, no matter how it remains unspoken. There ain't nothing he can do to ever change her thought or feeling up on that. It's the one thing that makes him wonder if he won't lose her someday. He prays never to have to choose.

He regrets too the joy that's been sapped so quick. He brushes her hair back once more. Then, he says with a sigh, "...WERE I TO IMAGINE. Were the divine devisings perceivable by him. HE WOULD GUESS HER SOMETHING SHARP. She would be of choice or truth. TRUST. And all its many motherfucking meanings."

Trust? That seems like such a strange thing to her, considering how often she hides things from other. It feels like half of her life has been hidden away. Words, reactions, emotions, and so on. Little things clipped out of her life in order to keep the balance as best she can.

And yet, that's what comes to his mind. Her head bows a little bit, pondering that and the other things. Sharpness, choice, and truth all make sense to her logically, but Trust sticks the hardest. Gradually, she lifts her head again and smiles a little for him. "Thank you for humoring me."

She leans up to bump her forehead against his. "I just wanted to hear what you thought."

It's not so much a stretch for him, naming her to be Trust. It's what she taught him.

Everyone says the opposite is courage, but you can be brave and still be scared. That doesn't sound like an opposite to me. I think that the only thing that really opposes fear is trust.

How fitting was it then that Fear should hold that? How perfect and unbelievable was it that Trust has fallen into Fear's grasp and likewise. The night and the day. Earth and sea.

Her forehead bumps his and he smiles wider. "AIN'T A THING, PITIED GIRL PRECIOUS."

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Not really sure how to feel about it, something in the way you move

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