lostcompass | (no subject)

( licyn reads all this, just feeling exhausted. )

Love, you expect me to want to write on all of that?

( he'd rather the chatting, he's not a man of extended, enjoyed letters outside of contracts and related communications. )

[ Licyn wouldn't be the first and he won't be the last, to be utterly exhausted by the Doctor. ]

Could make it fun, you know. Write me little notes everyday, we'll trade back and forth. Or I'll invade your personal space again, I'm sure you don't mind the company!

( don't make him write, it's so rude! or something, look, no one expects him to write. )

One sounds like courtship, way too much effort, just invade my personal space!

Coming! Are you in the bath again? Where do I bother you?

Polishing my sword on the side steps.

( thankfully for all involved, this is not a euphemism. when the doctor arrives, there will Licyn be seated, polishing his talwar style blade with practised ease.

looks like at least one more reason to search out appropriate oils, but he has enough, for now. )

[ When the Doctor arrives, it's with far more enthusiasm than is probably warranted, given nothing particularly exciting is actually happening. It's just how he tends to approach...life.

So there he is, pep in his step, easy grin, straightening his bowtie. ]

...and what a grand sword it is! Well, I assume so. Not much for weapons, myself, but I can admire the beauty of yours. Solid, sharp, no doubt reliable.

[ He truly is just admiring the actual sword. He's going to purposefully not think about what that sword is actually used for at the moment, the weapons averse pacifist that he is. Though, of course, can't exactly expect a mercenary to be unarmed. ]

Must be, since I'm not buried before it.

( He finished rubbing oil along the length, starting to fold it into clean cotton, the leather scabbard resting on the step above him. )

Now you were nattering on, love, all those questions. What were they again?

( He flashes a smile when he glances up at the Doctor, brow quirked. Do avoid thinking about all he's done to survive over the years, instead focus on the fact it's not presently required. )

Might as well mention your regeneration, my body has... something like that. Short of hacking off a limb, and maybe even then, injuries in one form can be healed by shifting into my other or back. Only a few things are even capable of leaving scars.

( Which he found out, when young, young, young. Learned firsthand, did he. )

Important questions, yes, let's get back to those.

[ Yes, he will continue to be glad they have no need of swords...for the moment. For a man like him who is generally always and endlessly thinking ahead to every possibility, he is doing a very good job lately of avoiding thought of actual warfare. It's coming, it's inevitable, so they say. He chooses to believe there's another way. ]

So the shift between your two forms isn't only a transformation between your dual identifies, it can be a restorative process? Helpful, that! With such an ability, it begs the question, what would be capable of leaving scars?

[ Full weirdo alien sometimes lacking tact and boundaries, on display right now. Though, he seems to...maybe (?) catch himself as he offers a bit of personal insight: ] I'm more familiar with scars that can't be seen.

( The Doctor earns himself a long, evaluating look, Licyn weighing internally the benefit-cost relationship to what he does or doesn't say. He can answer a what, while not answering a why; he has no desire to talk about his scars, visible or otherwise. Whatever he decides, it turns into a slow curl of his lips, half lowered lashes, the lean back against the steps. )

Consider that one answered for a proper kiss, love, or let the curiosity linger.

( It's no skin off his nose either way; thus far, he hasn't run into anything here that feels as dangerous as what he knows lurks in forgotten corners of his homelands and their adjacent territories. )

Everyone has those, don't they? Some smoother, some right ugly. Secondary cost of being alive, earning the unseen scars.

Each with a story, and a beautiful reminder that we're still alive to bear them.

[ He's not Mr. Positive 100% of the time, but he does try for it, generally. ]

Now - [ He comes closer, taking the opportunity to sit close to him now. What is personal space? ] - a proper kiss. I've seen them, plenty of them. Even indulged a time or two! Bit rusty, though. How does it work again? What makes it a proper kiss versus the complete opposite?

[ Leave it to him, really, to make it analytical, almost clinical. ]

( Licyn isn't taken back by the sudden space invasion, considering he invites it as much as possible. He even leans in to the Doctor, peering up at him through his lashes. )

I do better with demonstrations than descriptions, love.

( It's probably sad that the analytical only comes across as attractive to someone who also, for different reasons, analyses near everything others do as far as his safety is concerned. )

Best way to learn! Most fun, really. Oh, believe me, I've done my share of kissing in a thousand years of living, but you get to be a certain age, it's more rare. Haven't taken these lips out for a spin in a while. [ Well, kind of. There's River - excellent, and Amy kissed him a while back, but that didn't count...mostly. There was Victorian governess Clara, and that one was - well, that was something. ]

Back to you! You deserve a good, proper kiss, you really do. Now, I've been trying this one out recently - [ He leans in closer, so now there really is no physical space between them at all, and he does air kisses near Licyn's cheeks. No actual physical contact made yet. This is a strange thing he picked up recently in his travels?? ] What do you think? I've gotten good feedback so far, but I'm open to criticism-

[ He will also, sadly, probably keep going on like this unless he's stopped. He's close enough to be stopped, should Licyn be so inclined, or he might eventually work his way up to initiating a proper demonstration? Maybe? ]

( is he being literal or facetious? a thousand years of living sounds like a certain kind of hell, but he doesn't linger on it. why would he? he's not particularly concerned, and there's stranger things in regeneration that might make a bit more sense.

granted, he'd need to care, and he's more amused at the very bizarre notion of taking lips out for a spin. )

I'm fairly sure that's some nonsense invented by nobles who like the sense of affection without any of the chance of connection.

( He sounds amused, and he is, because whatever the air kiss nonsense is does feel about that hollow and showy; he's biased and he knows it, and also doesn't care. Physical contact is a need he's never questioned, not from childhood and nap-piles when there'd been a simpler time, not to the scattered landscape of adulthood, in and out of welcome beds, collapsing at camps, comradeship after surviving a fight.

Wolves are no good at being self-contained and alone. )

But it's hardly about what I deserve, love, it's about you. Proper's a sliding scale, isn't it?

( It also means he's secure in not answering, hence the ongoing amusement as he shows zero sign of being bothered one way or another by their proximity, or by what to him is fairly silly kisskiss air is love. )

[ One never really knows with the Doctor, though in this case, he's actually closer to literal. Still, his true age is something he does tend to lose track of. ]

Zero out of ten, then, is what you're saying. No problem, understandable, not my best effort. Room to improve! What I deserve, though, well - good one, okay -

[ Being completely honest, down to his soul, he doesn't think he really deserves anything at all. That's all very well hidden beneath the madness, the cheerful way he carries himself. He's perfected that, he thinks. Even now, there's an amused and playful light in his eyes, belying the darker truths below.

He does actually want and crave affection, attention. He's very tactile and handsy, this one. Kissing is another matter entirely, though he's kissed many people and other species, in fact. ]

Fish fingers and custard? Missed that, being here. A bunk bed, a big one with lots of pillows. Hang on, wait. Why is it about me? You, you're what matters here, between us.

( when two touch starved people are (for different reasons) perpetually touch starved and missing that it's mutual. not that licyn usually understands it outside of a context of sex, but sex is a simple, direct currency, easy to trade with people in the towns, villages, cities he passes in and out of like one more migrating creature with the seasons.

what he misses from his packmate, broken lonewolf that said packmate is, is the kind of constant companionship, the furry flank to curl up by each night, and the one who didn't mind his draping and prodding and the like. not that rillin minded much. he wasn't all that inspired to mind things, outside of being an efficient killer, as aimed. )

Bunk beds? Might be able to arrange that for you, and the custard, though not until up top again.

( he's just smiling as the doctor's been chattering on, then reaches over to try and pap the tip of his nose. )

No, love, you are far more fascinating than I am.

[ For the Doctor, it's been so many hundreds of years, really, since he felt the kind of connection he truly wants. The problem is, he can't let himself get too terribly close to anyone. He outlives all of them, and though he quite selfishly wants more than he's had or ever allowed himself, he's also a self-preservationist.

He gets attached to people easily, this is true, but then he very carefully protects himself from anything deeper. That bit of madness and flippancy on the surface is hiding quite a bit more underneath. ]

Oh, well, now, you've just become my favorite! I mean, you were nearly there already, now you've done it.

[ He does allow the tap to his nose; an affectionately familiar gesture he's used on friends himself, more than once. ]

Careful, though, letting that get out. Now, there's the matter of the bunk beds - be a bit lonely without company so I'll expect you joining me at least a few nights a week. The fun we'll have, imagine it.

( A problem shifters have too, though less dramatically; and violence takes enough of their lives before knowing a true span of their years. So it goes.

Here and now, however, Licyn simply grins at getting away with the nose tap, amused and pleased in that way of excellent, per him, social interactions. )

What, people are jealous for your attentions? Misdirect them for me, sounds like a headache.

( Licyn, who has never fought anyone else for anyone's attention in his life, because he's not here to be the sole recipient of anyone's. He does laugh, quirking his eyebrows. )

Love, what my version of a fun time in a bunk bed is versus your idea are bound to be very different. Mine might actually involve binding, now that I'm thinking about it... make good use of all those posts, hm?

Honestly I can't imagine anyone really would be.

[ Jealous for his attentions. The concept is outside of his understanding, at least as it pertains to anyone feeling that way about him. ]

You're the practical sort, I admire that. I know someone who's fond of handcuffs, though she usually just threatens me with them. Sort of anticlimactic - big promises, little action. Now the binding, okay, good use of the posts, yes. Don't want those going to waste. And when you bind someone - naturally, there's a blindfold involved? If not, there really should be. And then what - they have to work their way out of it and then they win?

[ Yet again, it may not be clear if he's being serious or facetious. He's not even always sure himself. ]

It does sound like a fun game, I have to admit. So, I break free of the bindings, then what? Or is the point to be bound - in which case, well, that could get boring, being honest. I don't do well just staying still.

( There he goes, coming up with very different scenarios than any that come to mind for Licyn. It's enough to make him chuckle, shaking his head, because he does agree: he's not a person who does well staying still either, doesn't like being fettered at all, would balk at bindings with any he doesn't know are firmly in a realm of lust or can be trusted to it, and those number few. Now him, binding others? More than familiar with it.

Enough people want to surrender their control, trust in the safety of doing so, let down those burdens perceived or actual, and he can grant them that mutual, satisfying release. )

The blindfold, love, is so you need to focus on your other senses. If you're nude already, or if you're being undressed, and all you have is what's said to you, what you hear, and each touch, and the permission to give in, let go, for either.

( He speaks in a low voice, unconcerned if the Doctor had been serious or jesting at this point, because he enjoys the contrasting views and expectations enough to be explicit, to let there be a hint of throatiness in his voice, a seductive promise.

He can lay it all down, expecting no one to pick it up, because it costs him nothing if the answer ever ends up yes instead of no. )

Which is the kind of binding I'm talking about. The ones where you praise them, coax them, let hands and mouths wander, tease with teeth or feathers if you're feeling fancy. The point is surrendering control, safely, and trusting in the pleasure that follows, in allowing it to flow over and through you, to sweep you away until you ache for the release of it, and ache more, and then shudder and shatter and still in the afterglow of its culmination.

( all that consonance, to end with him leaning back on the stairs, languid and relaxed. )

The games I play are all ones about pleasure, love. Body, mind, and spirit.

[ The Doctor is a mix of experienced and naive as it pertains to...these sorts of conversations, but tends to be unpredictable as to what he knows and how much he'll let on that he knows. He's not as oblivious as he may seem on the surface, but that's half the fun of it.

His companion at the moment is certainly weaving an intriguing and sensuous tale, the hint of promise not entirely escaping him. It's very obvious that Licyn is experienced. He certainly paints a detailed description, which leaves the Doctor ever more curious. Perhaps he'll have to conduct a bit of experimentation of his own. Put this all to the test. Though, his version of experimentation is going to be...quite different from Licyn's. ]

I don't know why it never occurred to me to have cake fed to me like that. You've just given me a brilliant idea!

[ ...anything, it seems, to avoid speaking too deeply or seriously on this subject. He is a weirdo from another planet, it's true, not always understanding of the way others conduct themselves romantically or otherwise, and he's also very good at masking his own wants and desires. ]

Trusting that someone will bring that piece of cake to my mouth rather than eat it themselves, being vulnerable about the fact that the frosting could get smeared everywhere and understanding the one who's bound you can do anything at all about it that they want. It's all very thrilling. You're a giving person, my friend. You're given the same in return?

( Licyn... simply looks even more amused. )

If it's what someone wants, yes. I'd let anyone lick frosting off me, just as I'd lick frosting off them. Really, the fun part of any sensual experience is the experiencing. Tasting the sumptuous delight of sugar in a cake, then the delicious blend of a person's individual scent and the frosting... it's an added delight.

( It doesn't help that he's a wolf. Scents are strong for him regardless; they're inherently part of what he appreciates, or doesn't appreciate. Scents down in the Mouse House region can be a bit trapped and dulling, and the opium? Horrible, horrible for the nose. He avoids that like a second coal sickness come calling. )

Though the last person who wanted anything of the kind was more fascinated by cheeses. And honey.

I do love a good cheese myself. Know quite a bit about cheese, in fact! Anything you might ever care to know. I once took a class on cheese-making-

[ Oh, but this isn't what they were meant to be talking about it, is it. Right. Side-tracked again, Doctor.

Frosting and sensual experiences. Yes. Well. He continues to be intrigued, and he's nothing if not curious. ]

What you're describing, though - perhaps we'll have an opportunity to put it to the test. If you procure bunk beds.

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i'm so sorry for him

i'm equally sorry for this one

this is only getting worse, how

i have no explanations left for this one, he's just a deflecting weirdo

me, still sobbing

no subject