[Sully's in his armchair, grinning through an exhale of smoke at Zephir's arrival - he stands (as one must always do when greeting their favorite person,) and shifts forward to initiate touch. A hand to the cheek, in soft caress, before he's pulling Zephir down for a savory kiss.]
No, not yet. Not everyone will be as keen to participate as Ignatius, and they're already riled up from last month. I'm thinking of approaching August, fully expecting to be rebuffed. Any suggestions?
I haven't collected from anyone this month. I have been trying to figure out why one of the additions keeps rotting — [ a tilt of his head, ] Well. The seed belongs to a man who rots others to heal himself. Yours, of course. He's the one who tried to kill me a while ago. Tried to make me rot when that didn't work.
[Though it is interesting to see Zephir's nature be battled, and he hopes to see Zephir come up with a solution - Life doesn't take so easily to being stepped on. It finds ways to grow between cracks in cement and after nuclear blasts.]
Have you tried hollowing him out completely, first? Hostile environments need treating.
[ Oh no, he'll just have to drag Sully back to his room to look at the Saber-plant sometime. Zephir wraps his arms around Sully's shoulders, idly playing with his hair, a smile that suggests he's up to no good hanging on his lips before it suddenly fades. Replaced with a curious, then confused stare, Zephir takes one slow step back and places a hand over his own chest, looking down.
Suddenly, he coughs up blood — a lot of it, white splattering on Sully's shirt and floor. ]
[Sullivan is about to reply to that but his words silence as he watches Zephir's expression shift; alert after the first splatter of blood. He licks a droplet from the corner of his mouth as he steps forward, hands out for Zephir's shoulders as he looks into his face - trying to assess the damage.]
[ He doesn't speak, eyes unfocused and brows drawn, turning his attention inward as he tries to understand what's happening inside this body. Something is taking up space, pushing and scratching and puncturing, and no matter how much he manipulates his own flesh to get back in place, it only keeps growing.
He finally sees Sullivan again, tainted in Zephir's own blood. Voice audibly affected by the strange and violent event, he rasps, ]
You're not done with me, my Death—
[ Followed by him doubling over, horrible noises coming from his throat as more blood and drool hits the floor. On his knees, one palm flat and another on his sternum, Zephir's body twitches all over before thorny, husked out plants push through his lips and nostrils, covered in white blood, carrying remnants of the gore they tore through. ]
[Sullivan is surprisingly calm. But those who know him (the one who knows him best) would know that doesn't mean anything, truthfully, because it's at his calmest that he's the most dangerous he can be. This is one of those moments full of tension as he squats down next to Zephir, looking at him with the eyes of a watchful cat, reaching to tip up his chin and look at the destruction.
Pain. Suffering. Things that pair well with the expressions of Zephir's face but this is not something either of them have control over. Sullivan strokes his finger up the front of Zephir's throat, feeling the swell there and resting his thumb over the bite of a thorn through the flesh.]
[ Zephir looks out of it until tired eyes focus on Sully, struggling to breathe, defeated by barbs that fill and push through his throat and mouth. The pain is relentless and suffocating, and yet still nothing compared to how a mortal body once suffered under the frenzied hunger of a revenant ripping his way to reach Zephir's heart. Eyes and cheeks wet, he somehow reaches for his other half, torture in every movement that brings him closer for an unspoken yes. ]
[Sullivan's eyes stare into Zephir's, while his hands go to work - digging his thumb into Zephir's throat like the skin of an orange. He peels him open deftly, letting his blood run down between them - lips twitching, desire to drink it up forcibly cast aside as he brutalizes Zephir's shell to core him of the rotten weeds inside.
The purging won't stop but it'll be eased by his palm pulling the gory remnants of rooted plants out of Zephir, clearing his throat like a drain. He drops the mucky thorns to the side, and continues this process, never once breaking eye contact with his other half. His own hands are bleeding from the effort, mingling black with white into a muddy grey puddle between them.]
[ Blood is in abundance, stems and thorns spilling in a grotesque bloom. Zephir convulses with each pull, each assault coming from the inside of his own body, barely given a moment to breathe before another collection surges upward and outward.
It'll be hours before it stops, leaving them both in a pool of blood and gore but not the evidence of what caused it all. All of it has turned to dust, small wet piles where it gathered in his and Sully's blood by the time he's touching a healed up throat and taking ragged breaths.
Zephir is sweating. His throat feels empty but not free. Every word scratches it more. ]
[Sullivan doesn't blink for most of it - he watches Zephir convulse, purge and spit. He pulls string after string of thorny growth from him, like deep rooted plants from loose earth. It finally begins to end (fitting cycle to match them and their efforts,) and the scent of spilled blood between them is heavy. Heavier still is the brief silence, before Sullivan's voice follows Zephir's into filling the room:]
Not the first and not likely the last time someone tries to play with us.
[Tries to exert power over entities beyond limitation.]
[ Hand on his stomach over the place where he first felt the growths take over his insides, Zephir seems lost for a moment, hidden within himself. Blue eyes return to his other half, lips parted, lungs still relearning how to fill with air. Over the blood, Zephir crawls closer to Sullivan, wet hand on his cheek. ]
Can you taste it? How it taints me?
[ He searches his features, leans in to kiss him and give anything that might be left from the event. A deranged question asked with a soft voice. ]
[Sullivan's arms envelop him, tightly holding him - tighter than any average person would allow, but Zephir is his. He holds him as tightly as he can, not unlike the first embrace they had as separates, wondering if there was a way to merge together once again. He kisses Zephir hungrily, searching his mouth with his tongue and tasting the mix of blood and thorn.]
I taste it. But it's sour, even for me. Because it's not of me.
[It's pain, adjacent to rot - but it's not caused by his hand and so he detests it, just a little.]
[ That gets a look of disappointment, breathing hard, swallowing what still feels too thick to fit in his throat. Ghost sensations lingering after unimaginable pain. ]
That's a shame, my Death.
[ If it had been more worthy, the suffering would've been worth it. Now it's just a novel experience that got old as soon as Sully told him there's no enjoyment there. Another fake — or, if not fake, simply subpar. ]
Then let me give you something to drink.
[ As they both hold each other, wrapped together over a bloodbath and bits of gore, Zephir regurgitates all the black substance that resulted from hours of healing himself over and over. Plenty for his other half to indulge and lose himself in, to make this less of a waste of their time. ]
[When he sees pain on Zephir, he wants to be the cause of it - their pleasure mingles so well, but this is warped. He dislikes not being the root cause; not being able to fully drink this off of him like he does the oily black bursting past his lips, dipping to kiss him and suck that back into him with a throaty moan.
His hand slides down the front of Zephir's chest, as if to soothe the lingering rawness that lays within. Then Sullivan presses his fingers inward, crooking them through flesh and bone, determined now to make this his own - to pry from Zephir cries of his own doing, by wilting the flesh inside with a killing touch; flesh decaying around his fingertips, up to his embedded knuckles.]
cw: continued emeto + cannibalism ref + back to gore but make it romance
[ Zephir does cry out, darkness sluggishly dripping from his lips and jaw when he trembles all over, afforded the luxury of pretending to be surprised. His body seems to scream and delight itself in pain, violently welcoming the intrusion that starts to destroy him from within.
Lips pressed together, Zephir makes a haunting noise split between one sphere of emotion and another completely different one, before pulling Sully back in and cleansing himself of the damage inflicted. It starts as a kiss, sweat and blood mixing where Sully destroyed him, and then more black elixir pools in one mouth, poured into the other. Like they should've done from the start. ]
Taste it, [ Breathless, unclean. Death's essence shines on him like an oil spill while he bleeds in white. ] What you've taken from me.
[Said with a gasping breath all his own against Zephir's lips, the filth expelled between them dripping down their chins from their lips as he laps it up with a swipe of his tongue. He twists his hand in Zephir's chest to elicit another raw sound, eyes closed until they reopen - sclera black, teeth sharper than they were moments before.]
[ He sees Sullivan like this, turning his vessel into a monster one part at a time while they both shed the pretense of humanity to drift closer to the vicious cycle of death and life; stealing, thriving, destroying off each other. Death cannot happen without life; life uses what's left behind by death to thrive again.
He grabs Sully's wrists, brings his hands and claws deeper into his chest, kisses and spills into him from his mouth and with his blood. Indulges and feeds them both, shoves him down with a body fueled by a nightmarish miracle and demands to be fucked in both familiar and grotesque ways. Once again, there will be too much for staff to clean in the morning. ]
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[ aka idk ]
You're too charming, clearly. Or perhaps they're all allergic to Delphine? That'd be tragic.
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Door's open for you, my love.
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I'll be there soon.
[ Knock knock! And then he just walks in without waiting for an answer. At least he isn't naked. ]
Hello, savior.
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Hello. So it's time for some projects?
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[ His own hand still on Sully's face, he comes back down to continue the kiss for a while longer. Always imposing his affection. ]
You haven't collected more bones yet?
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No, not yet. Not everyone will be as keen to participate as Ignatius, and they're already riled up from last month. I'm thinking of approaching August, fully expecting to be rebuffed. Any suggestions?
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[ They both know why. Zephir still says it to be a little shit, the finger booping Sully's nose being the cherry on top. ]
Would the summoner not like to trade? I'm sure you could come up with an enticing offer.
[ To August, who's already stuck with satan. Maybe not ]
There are plenty of people here who can heal themselves; they wouldn't even require me to step in. Surely they wouldn't be missing much.
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[Plus there was so much going on!!]
Mm, on that note - got any plans to expand your garden? Since we have plenty of people who heal themselves.
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[Though it is interesting to see Zephir's nature be battled, and he hopes to see Zephir come up with a solution - Life doesn't take so easily to being stepped on. It finds ways to grow between cracks in cement and after nuclear blasts.]
Have you tried hollowing him out completely, first? Hostile environments need treating.
no subject
[ Oh no, he'll just have to drag Sully back to his room to look at the Saber-plant sometime. Zephir wraps his arms around Sully's shoulders, idly playing with his hair, a smile that suggests he's up to no good hanging on his lips before it suddenly fades. Replaced with a curious, then confused stare, Zephir takes one slow step back and places a hand over his own chest, looking down.
Suddenly, he coughs up blood — a lot of it, white splattering on Sully's shirt and floor. ]
no subject
What is it?
cw: blood, gore, body horror, emeto, spit
He finally sees Sullivan again, tainted in Zephir's own blood. Voice audibly affected by the strange and violent event, he rasps, ]
You're not done with me, my Death—
[ Followed by him doubling over, horrible noises coming from his throat as more blood and drool hits the floor. On his knees, one palm flat and another on his sternum, Zephir's body twitches all over before thorny, husked out plants push through his lips and nostrils, covered in white blood, carrying remnants of the gore they tore through. ]
cw: all that indefinitely
Pain. Suffering. Things that pair well with the expressions of Zephir's face but this is not something either of them have control over. Sullivan strokes his finger up the front of Zephir's throat, feeling the swell there and resting his thumb over the bite of a thorn through the flesh.]
I can tear it from you. Shall I?
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The purging won't stop but it'll be eased by his palm pulling the gory remnants of rooted plants out of Zephir, clearing his throat like a drain. He drops the mucky thorns to the side, and continues this process, never once breaking eye contact with his other half. His own hands are bleeding from the effort, mingling black with white into a muddy grey puddle between them.]
Breathe in for me, deep.
no subject
It'll be hours before it stops, leaving them both in a pool of blood and gore but not the evidence of what caused it all. All of it has turned to dust, small wet piles where it gathered in his and Sully's blood by the time he's touching a healed up throat and taking ragged breaths.
Zephir is sweating. His throat feels empty but not free. Every word scratches it more. ]
… Another surprise for us, my love.
no subject
Not the first and not likely the last time someone tries to play with us.
[Tries to exert power over entities beyond limitation.]
It's tainting you.
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Can you taste it? How it taints me?
[ He searches his features, leans in to kiss him and give anything that might be left from the event. A deranged question asked with a soft voice. ]
no subject
I taste it. But it's sour, even for me. Because it's not of me.
[It's pain, adjacent to rot - but it's not caused by his hand and so he detests it, just a little.]
cw: pseudo-emeto
That's a shame, my Death.
[ If it had been more worthy, the suffering would've been worth it. Now it's just a novel experience that got old as soon as Sully told him there's no enjoyment there. Another fake — or, if not fake, simply subpar. ]
Then let me give you something to drink.
[ As they both hold each other, wrapped together over a bloodbath and bits of gore, Zephir regurgitates all the black substance that resulted from hours of healing himself over and over. Plenty for his other half to indulge and lose himself in, to make this less of a waste of their time. ]
cw: whatever this is
His hand slides down the front of Zephir's chest, as if to soothe the lingering rawness that lays within. Then Sullivan presses his fingers inward, crooking them through flesh and bone, determined now to make this his own - to pry from Zephir cries of his own doing, by wilting the flesh inside with a killing touch; flesh decaying around his fingertips, up to his embedded knuckles.]
cw: continued emeto + cannibalism ref + back to gore but make it romance
Lips pressed together, Zephir makes a haunting noise split between one sphere of emotion and another completely different one, before pulling Sully back in and cleansing himself of the damage inflicted. It starts as a kiss, sweat and blood mixing where Sully destroyed him, and then more black elixir pools in one mouth, poured into the other. Like they should've done from the start. ]
Taste it, [ Breathless, unclean. Death's essence shines on him like an oil spill while he bleeds in white. ] What you've taken from me.
[ The elixir. His blood. His body. ]
no subject
[Said with a gasping breath all his own against Zephir's lips, the filth expelled between them dripping down their chins from their lips as he laps it up with a swipe of his tongue. He twists his hand in Zephir's chest to elicit another raw sound, eyes closed until they reopen - sclera black, teeth sharper than they were moments before.]
You belong to me. And I to you.
🎀 💀🌳
He grabs Sully's wrists, brings his hands and claws deeper into his chest, kisses and spills into him from his mouth and with his blood. Indulges and feeds them both, shoves him down with a body fueled by a nightmarish miracle and demands to be fucked in both familiar and grotesque ways. Once again, there will be too much for staff to clean in the morning. ]