[With how wacky things can be, Solomon should maybe fret about Takasugi's wellness a bit more; at the same time, he'd like not to make such a big deal out of this, lest he refrain from being so honest in the future.
And yet, his consideration tonight shouldn't be so unremarkable.]
I wonder...perhaps you've fallen in love.
[His grip strengthens, only in anticipation of an automatic refusal wrought with disgust, something like that. He'd been denying himself a similar sentiment, though all aspects of love and enchantment bleed through when it comes to the samurai.
It's a trifling thing to have to fight on the daily.]
[Every muscle in Takasugi's body winds tight; he wants to spill from the bed. Raise his sword and cut the man in half for even suggesting such a stupid thing. Solomon's tightened hold keeps him there, belays the original impulse and soothes it into an ache.
Pain that works its way out in a shrill laugh - longer than a chuckle, head tilting to reveal the disheveled bandage and a contorted smile.] Would you prefer that?
Being killed by someone who loves you, instead of someone who hates you? [As if love and hate aren't the same damn thing. Takasugi can't feel one without the other - a single exception in his history not even worth mentioning (he can't bear the weight of thinking about that now).
So he drives the conversation back somewhere familiar. Violence. Carnage. A promise of death he can keep so much closer to his heart than fondness.
He pulls away from the embrace, his retreat made with an arched back and a shift of hips that leaves him prone. Deliberate, his hand crosses his chest to tug on Solomon's arm. Come here.
[It's a forbidden word -- concept, for sure. That response, the bout of laughter, it's better than what he'd anticipated, creepy smile included. Not the best response, but he'd expect nothing less.
And, Takasugi only provides a window of opportunity.]
My only love sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late...prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathèd enemy.
...Something like that.
[He won't hold Takasugi hostage after that. There's a quasi-escape that transpires, only for him to be summoned nearer. He's obeying, though he's probably gonna get choked the fuck out for quoting Romeo & Juliet. Into the lion's den he leans, not bracing for anything in particular.
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And yet, his consideration tonight shouldn't be so unremarkable.]
I wonder...perhaps you've fallen in love.
[His grip strengthens, only in anticipation of an automatic refusal wrought with disgust, something like that. He'd been denying himself a similar sentiment, though all aspects of love and enchantment bleed through when it comes to the samurai.
It's a trifling thing to have to fight on the daily.]
That's why it's so tedious.
no subject
Pain that works its way out in a shrill laugh - longer than a chuckle, head tilting to reveal the disheveled bandage and a contorted smile.] Would you prefer that?
Being killed by someone who loves you, instead of someone who hates you? [As if love and hate aren't the same damn thing. Takasugi can't feel one without the other - a single exception in his history not even worth mentioning (he can't bear the weight of thinking about that now).
So he drives the conversation back somewhere familiar. Violence. Carnage. A promise of death he can keep so much closer to his heart than fondness.
He pulls away from the embrace, his retreat made with an arched back and a shift of hips that leaves him prone. Deliberate, his hand crosses his chest to tug on Solomon's arm. Come here.
To be choked. To be kissed.
He hasn't decided.]
no subject
And, Takasugi only provides a window of opportunity.]
My only love sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late...prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathèd enemy.
...Something like that.
[He won't hold Takasugi hostage after that. There's a quasi-escape that transpires, only for him to be summoned nearer. He's obeying, though he's probably gonna get choked the fuck out for quoting Romeo & Juliet. Into the lion's den he leans, not bracing for anything in particular.
Curious.]