Well, I don't let just anyone put their hands all over me.
[ But the touch that slides up his arm, pours a familiar warmth into his shirt, kisses his nerves, makes him glow almost flush with the stuff, integrating it in with the dregs of what he has left to send out the softest curl of magic in return. ]
Unfortunately, I try not introduce myself ass first.
[ All the same, Day's magic is... a refresher. It's a reminder. And god does it soothe the ache inside. The hole in him is gaping, but it doesn't sting anymore. It's a dull ache, like a slow-rotting tooth, and some days Tristan wishes he could pull it out altogether. There's only so much happiness that little glowing balls of light can bring and lighting candles with the tips of your fingers stops feeling satisfying after the sixteenth candle.
There aren't many Heavenlies in a place called The City of Angels, but that's to be expected, and maybe that's why Tristan chose here of everywhere else. Alaska. New England. Nova Scotia. The Spanish border just wasn't far enough, he had to be over the sea again.
Day is like... a breath of fresh air in the low-hanging smog, in the violet smoke that tastes like lavender and earth on his tongue when he meets someone at this bar, this bar for people who moonlight as the unawoken. The sun sets and they become who they really are--elementals of all kinds, Spectrals, Demonics, Mechanical plane workers who play with the lighting tracks and spin the music, Unnaturals who make the shadows dance along the bodies of the patrons...
Clock strikes midnight and they're all about as boring as pumpkins again.
Los Angeles is magical, but only when the lights go down, and then it's all dirt and grime and sweat in the light.
So when a Heavenly kind of magic blips on his radar, he's loathe to not try and draw it near.
All that aside, there is something half-made about Tristan as he guides Day into the seat beside him and lets the tips of their fingers touch briefly. Something Heavenly, but overshadowed with something a little darker now. All the same, magic tinged sweet draws to Day's own and he grins. ]
no subject
[ But the touch that slides up his arm, pours a familiar warmth into his shirt, kisses his nerves, makes him glow almost flush with the stuff, integrating it in with the dregs of what he has left to send out the softest curl of magic in return. ]
Unfortunately, I try not introduce myself ass first.
[ All the same, Day's magic is... a refresher. It's a reminder. And god does it soothe the ache inside. The hole in him is gaping, but it doesn't sting anymore. It's a dull ache, like a slow-rotting tooth, and some days Tristan wishes he could pull it out altogether. There's only so much happiness that little glowing balls of light can bring and lighting candles with the tips of your fingers stops feeling satisfying after the sixteenth candle.
There aren't many Heavenlies in a place called The City of Angels, but that's to be expected, and maybe that's why Tristan chose here of everywhere else. Alaska. New England. Nova Scotia. The Spanish border just wasn't far enough, he had to be over the sea again.
Day is like... a breath of fresh air in the low-hanging smog, in the violet smoke that tastes like lavender and earth on his tongue when he meets someone at this bar, this bar for people who moonlight as the unawoken. The sun sets and they become who they really are--elementals of all kinds, Spectrals, Demonics, Mechanical plane workers who play with the lighting tracks and spin the music, Unnaturals who make the shadows dance along the bodies of the patrons...
Clock strikes midnight and they're all about as boring as pumpkins again.
Los Angeles is magical, but only when the lights go down, and then it's all dirt and grime and sweat in the light.
So when a Heavenly kind of magic blips on his radar, he's loathe to not try and draw it near.
All that aside, there is something half-made about Tristan as he guides Day into the seat beside him and lets the tips of their fingers touch briefly. Something Heavenly, but overshadowed with something a little darker now. All the same, magic tinged sweet draws to Day's own and he grins. ]