stuck meme

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stuck meme

esuna off that paralysis Post toplevels, reply as usual. Hope you enjoy your quality time with your thread partner, now that you're stuck... 01. IN A CROWD — for bonus points: in a crowd, after an argument. 02. DEFENDING THE BASE — while you wait for reinforcements to arrive. Good luck! 03. ON A RAFT — or a manacutter or an airship or something, drifting towards a deserted island. 04. IN A RELATIONSHIP — that your thread partner is trying to break you out of. The relationship can be with someone else... or just your bed/pet/hobby/gambling habit. 05. IN A WAITING ROOM — while you're waiting to hear a healer/conjurer/physician/chirurgeon's assessment, and you really didn't want to run into anyone... or maybe you'd like some emotional support? 06. TRYING TO NAVIGATE — through the Ul'dahn marketplace, maybe, or Hawker's Alley, or any number of confusing Lominsan/Gridanian/Sharlayan alleyways. 07. STANDING GUARD — wherever might be applicable: outside the Rising Stones? Rowena's House of Splendors? Or maybe awkwardly in front of a bedroom with a near-stranger so that the person who hired you to keep watch can get it on inside... 08. WITH YOUR HAIR — caught in someone else's belt or leather sheath or inexplicable shoulder spike... oh, adventurers and their impractical clothing. 09. DELIVERING TERRIBLE NEWS — exactly what's on the tin. Sucks to be you. 10. DOING THE DISHES — at a restaurant where you forgot your wallet and couldn't pay the bill. 11. IN A LAKE — because this person caught you skinny-dipping and won't... go... away... 12. WAITING TO BE RANSOMED — in the actually-quite-loving care of some especially incompetent criminals. Enjoy being stuck! This meme was gently lifted off bakerstreet.

TEMPLATE CODED BY valoirs

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[valhourdin]

[ A stretch of water separates them now; by focusing on themselves, they might find some reprieve from their desires and let them subside. After all, they must make their way through the manor again, back to Francel's chambers, without arousing suspicion.

Zephirin begins with his hair, rubbing his bar of soap between his palms, but Francel's remark tempts him anew, into glancing up and gazing at the boy in kind. His eyes wander along the lines of Francel's shoulders, down his back.

The knight utters a soft, wry almost-chuckle. ]

I fear the same... Yet I confess, too, that I would offer you my assistance.

[haillenarte]

...Just a little, then?

[utterly irrepressible, francel bounds closer, eager as a puppy promised treats in return for good behavior. doing his very best to maintain some level of innocence, he coyly wraps his arms around zephirin's waist; he buries his nose in the man's chest, slick with suds and the smell of soap, as he looks up at zephirin adoringly and seems to glow with bliss.

bar of soap in hand, he starts to slowly glide his palm over zephirin's toned stomach.]

I promise I can resist...

[valhourdin]

[ No, they will never be clean. Already just a little alters their resolution to wash themselves and return to their rooms; Zephirin's body knows Francel's hands too well, and their touch has become inextricably linked with pleasure. Anticipation turns his muscles taut beneath Francel's palm.

It is not the pursuit of cleanliness alone that drives Zephirin to take his bar of soap to Francel's shoulders instead of his own, to smooth the lather across the boy's skin, following his body's gentle curves, known by now to Zephirin's hands.

Thus he offers his assistance, as confessed, and consents to Francel's just a little offered. ]

[haillenarte]

Eeeehehehehehehehe...

[as his hands caress zephirin's body, francel giggles with the same twisted perverseness of a pirate cackling over a chestful of treasure. his greedy fingers explore zephirin's more densely packed curves, the flat planes of his sides, the hard lines of his arms. the young lord's lusty expression seems to speak of untold pleasure — something that goes well beyond mere appreciation for zephirin's form.

perhaps he is merely pleased to have a lover to call his own.]

Zephirin, you are so very beautiful...

[valhourdin]

[ Initially, Zephirin concludes that Francel is ticklish when another's sudsy hands massage his back and front, his sides, but the boy does not flinch away from Zephirin's fingers. Rather, he seems to laugh out of pure delight, as if he has waited even for this, his chance to touch Zephirin's bare skin once more from head to toe, with the focus of his endeavours as a disciple of Saint Mocianne's pupil. Now that this wish is fulfilled, perhaps he prepares for a future famine, greedily gorging himself on all he can of his cut of Ishgardian knight.

Zephirin pauses, fingertips against the nape of Francel's neck, to observe Francel's excitement. That part of him made a beast revels in it. ]

I begin to fear that your cooking-pot was no jest.

[haillenarte]

[francel croons like a pleased coeurl kitten, squirming sensitively at the fingers brushing his neck. though he has not yet had enough of the prized sirloin that is his ser zephirin, he ceases his rubbing and squeezing, content in the knowledge that, at least, they will have another moment outside of the baths — and perhaps a few more days together, perhaps even a few more weeks.

impishly, the young lord leans up and nips at zephirin's earlobe.]

Mayhap I should marinate you in your sweat and salts ere I devour you whole?

[valhourdin]

Truly, we shall never be clean...

[ A strange note creeps into Zephirin's voice, nothing of regret, but an echo of his body's anticipation. Francel's mouth against his ear reminds him again of the warmth of Francel's tongue turned upon it, his undoing, and it repeats Francel's promise to do his utmost to devour Zephirin whole.

The knight's lashes lower to his cheeks as his arms cross behind Francel's back, locking the boy in their embrace. Just a little assistance has reached its end, but this touch is heated not only with fever.

Then, a trace impish himself upon opening his eyes, Zephirin decorates the tip of Francel's nose with a dab of foam. ]

[haillenarte]

[at first, francel blinks at the heaping of bubbles suddenly planted on his nose — then, after the initial surprise has passed, he smiles. the seductive glint in francel's eyes is replaced by sheer delight, plain and childish.

laughing, he reaches into the water and picks up a handful of suds, crowning zephirin king of the bathtub — or archbishop, as it were.]

Your Eminence!

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin wears his mitre of suds with grace. His movements careful so as not to disturb the mound of foam, he serenely scoops up more generous a handful in turn, and carries it cradled in his cupped palms to its destination atop Francel's head. Solemnly, he retorts: ]

Nay, Father Joacin. You see before you a soul come to seek succor.

[ Be it to deliver him from soaking in the last of his sweat and salts, or from his body's receptiveness to Francel's caresses. Suddenly, it seems that they will never be clean for other, comparatively innocuous reasons, drawing out their time in the baths by playing in the water, doubtless unusual for the both of them.

There is something to it of the harmless irreverence of a schoolboy napping in a cathedral's pews and waking to invite a lone Temple Knight to feed him an apple. Here, where they can simply be for a time, Zephirin's guard is well and truly lowered. ]

[haillenarte]

[beneath his crown of soap, francel smiles, laughs, wondrously charming, aglow with love and light and a happiness unparalleled. again he wraps zephirin in his arms, with the strange sensation that he holds not just the man, but the whole of him, his most tender, vulnerable self.]

Ah, and you would give me the privilege of leading you to salvation...?


[the crystal-warmed waters do not cool, but at length their skin wrinkles to the point that they must extricate themselves from the bath. hair is rinsed amidst laughter and giggling; bodies are clothed in fresh linens, thoughtfully provided by a manservant or maidservant willing to turn a blind eye to their youngest lord's indiscretions.

when at last they return to zephirin's guest room, francel seats himself upon the edge of the bed, looking up at the knight with something of an expectant air.]

Well, that was a wonderful way to spend time together...

[valhourdin]

[ Their bath was not quite what the House Haillenarte chirurgeon recommended, but evidently it has done Zephirin a world of good to indulge in utter relaxation for a while. Persisting signs of his fever aside, he looks well-rested, noticeably less unwell than he did when Lord Emmanellain discovered him outside, when Francel carried him all the way to his makeshift infirmary.

They are clean after all, wonderfully warm and comfortable. For now, parting ways is a distant thing. ]

I had... fun.

[ Zephirin makes use of that magic word in agreement, though it does not fully encompass today's events. Reaching out, he takes one of Francel's hands, and brushes his lips against the still slightly wrinkled ends of the boy's fingers, then his knuckles, merely to acknowledge that they spoke of these skillful hands. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel's skillful hands unfurl. his long fingers touch zephirin's jawline, frame his rather gaunt yet handsome face. that magic word warms him to his core. nothing in the world could possibly make him happier than knowing that a friend of his has had fun.

this does not make him childlike, or innocent. he is indeed familiar with still other definitions of fun.]

Is that what they call it down at the Congregation?

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin's eyes meet Francel's with a glimmer of amusement before his eyelids lower almost demurely. In truth, his intention was to convey the wondrous impact of their time spent together, its value, for he recalls that Francel has oft suffered disappointment in matters of friendship. He would not have the boy think himself a fleeting spot of fun.

Francel's manner remains flirtatious, however, and Zephirin does not discourage it. ]

Among other things. What do they call it hereabouts?

[haillenarte]

Hmmm... falling into sin with your Joacin, perhaps?

[it is not a terribly witty answer, but francel is feeling playful, and not particularly sharp. he leans in and plants a kiss upon zephirin's warm lips, the same way he might kiss the nose of his plush rabbit — for which he has zephirin to thank.]

Do you still feel ill? You should rest a while.

[valhourdin]

[ If not for this kiss, tenderly given, Francel's answer might have invited further teasing, but their lips touch briefly and chastely, and it seems that they will turn from temptation, their hunger sated at last. Though Zephirin's aches are eased, his skin is still too warm; Francel is right to speak of resting. ]

Under my Joacin's care, this fever will break ere long, I am certain.

[ He was not so fever-addled that it made him oblivious to Francel's straining to carry him from the manor's parlor to his chambers, or that he has forgotten that they both meant to rest, prior to falling into sin together. Zephirin should not overexert himself, but he has the strength to pull Francel down onto the mattress with him, perhaps as the young lord would take his toy rabbit into his arms. ]

[haillenarte]

[though francel was of a mind to kiss his zephirin good-night, and tuck him into bed, and retreat to his own chambers, he infinitely prefers this invitation to lay beside him all evening. the plush rabbit will have to sleep alone tonight, but that is fine; the plush rabbit will have many and more nights to spend with francel, whereas zephirin will only stay with his joacin until he is recovered.

the thought of zephirin's departure makes francel's heart heavy with hurt.

he finds a safe space beneath zephirin's chin to rest his nose.]

...Then I shall stay by your side, and offer you all the tender care I can muster.

[valhourdin]

[ Zephirin's fever worsens ere it breaks, bringing him fitful bells of disjointed dreams. Dimly, in moments betwixt sleep and wakefulness, he is reminded of similarly vexing a childhood illness — fortunately, he retains the presence of mind not to imagine himself much younger again, let alone mistake Francel for his mother. When at last his illness loosens its grip, he sleeps as though his body was starved of rest for moons and now demands their equivalent packed into the few days of respite it is granted under Francel's roof.

In the early hours of the fourth morning greeted at Haillenarte Manor, Zephirin wakes fully rested. His fever is vanquished, his Joacin's tender care a most effective remedy.

The knight stirs upon his mattress, lifting his head from his pillow, and gazes about for a sense of the time, for his bearings after sleeping so uncommonly deeply. The room is yet too dark to discern aught more than vague shapes, but Zephirin's eyes seek Francel, too.

It borders on a routine, as if it is their custom by now to begin each day side by side. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel is asleep beside zephirin, but he has not been so the whole night. throughout the evening, he tended to zephirin's fever and refused to fall into deep sleep; on the passing of each hour, he rose from bed and passed a moist cloth over zephirin's brow, his face, his neck.

now, the half-filled tub of water rests upon the bedside table. the cloth, half-dried, rests in zephirin's lap, dislodged from his forehead when he woke. and francel, for his part, stirs from his light slumber, fingers groping for purchase along the edge of zephirin's sleeve.]

Zephi...

[he mumbles inaudibly — then his hands still. zephirin's beloved joacin appears to be still asleep.]

[valhourdin]

[ Slowly, Zephirin's eyes adjust to his darkened surroundings, which grow less so soon enough as the night gives way to dawn. He spies the damp cloth in his lap, the basin beside the bed, and Francel's fingers loosely curled in his sleeve — they mopped Zephirin's brow countless times to cool his burning skin, this he knows despite his hazy recollection of his delirious moments.

Loath to risk waking the boy, Zephirin lowers himself back into place upon the mattress, turning onto his side to face Francel. The day has barely begun, and although he is ill no longer, under obligation now to take his leave, he would stay at least until he can be certain that his diligent chirurgeon will not fall ill himself.

Zephirin reaches across the gap between them, cupping Francel's cheek. ]

[haillenarte]

[francel's cheek is round and wonderfully soft; his skin feels remarkably delicate to the touch. suddenly, the boy's face grows rounder, pressing up against zephirin's palm — a subtle smile plays about his lips. evidently, he likes having his face cupped.]

Ze... nn.

[for a moment, the young lord's eyelids flutter open, but he appears to have not woken fully. mumbling inaudibly, he wraps his arms around zephirin's waist and squeezes weakly — just as he might squeeze his beloved plush rabbit.]

G'morn...

[valhourdin]

[ Suspended in drowsy contentment, Francel might slip back into much needed slumber, and Zephirin remains still in the boy's embrace, moving only his thumb to stroke Francel's cheek, and then to brush aside the fringe of his hair. Lightly, the knight's lips touch Francel's smooth brow, a gesture that doubles as a greeting and an extended assessment of Francel's temperature. Zephirin draws away once satisfied with his findings. ]

'Tis an early morning, to rise with the sun.

[haillenarte]

Mmm....

[no fearsome fever wracks francel's delicate frame; no beads of sweat linger upon his brow. he is full of sleepy warmth, however, even as the sensation of zephirin's lips upon his brow pushes him closer to wakefulness. the young lord draws his body closer against his temple knight's, relishing this touch, this contact.]

Matters not...

[a contented sigh. he, too, presses a drowsy kiss to zephirin's chin.]

It matters not to me so long as I rise with you.

[valhourdin]

Mayhap I ought pay the sun no mind, then, that you might stay abed for a time.

[ They cannot shirk their duties; once more, the hour of Zephirin's departure approaches, but while Francel rests and recovers from his burdens willingly shouldered, they have some remaining bells to themselves. Zephirin has no qualms spending these bells watching over his Joacin as the boy watched over him, sharing each other's warmth and exchanging sleepy, indulgently lazy kisses. Broaching the subject of goodbyes may be postponed.

Beneath the covers, Zephirin's arm settles across Francel's body, though he discreetly shifts his own away from the boy's by a few ilms, lest their closeness rouse parts of him like to desire more. ]

[haillenarte]

[even in his sleepy state, francel is conscious of the fact that zephirin is in better health now, that his beloved temple knight must return to the garrisons where his meager pallet awaits him and ser guerrique will welcome him with brawny arms. he knows his time with zephirin is limited. again, he fantasizes briefly about keeping zephirin in his room forever — even forcibly, if need be.

despite the fact that he rests with eyes closed, however, the boy's expression seems to darken when zephirin shifts away from him. pouting, francel seals the distance between their bodies, pulling himself closer against his knight. covetously, he presses his hips against zephirin's.]

Stay with me...

[valhourdin]

[ Francel's sleep-heavy arms seem to tighten their hold on Zephirin's waist; he is trapped flush against the boy. With no choice but to accept his fate, he makes no further attempt to shield them both from the encroaching consequences of their embrace, allowing his limbs to relax. His traitorous breathing, momentarily disrupted, grows audible in a brief chuckle, and then steady again. ]

As you wish. I thought to make room upon the bed, but I appear to be bound in place...

[ Zephirin's palm presses against the small of Francel's back, promising the boy that his knight will not vanish while he slumbers. ]