MINGLE - Post-Op(era) Recovery

[pumpkinhollow]

On this night we drink to the death of Sorrow.

After the Fall of Efrain With the Prince of Sorrow's Song dead and gone, the opera dissipates, spitting its victims out on the summit of Crane's Ridge where the Dance of Celestine was held some months before. It's getting late, and there is no one yet in town to run the train. Some will brave the trip home simply for the sake of collapsing into their own beds and achieving some sense of normalcy. Others will do so with the hope of returning with help. But many others will simply say "fuck it" and camp out on the mountain, still fitted with extra firewood from the festival and the means to build temporary structures in nearby storage sheds. The journey down will be safer in the morning, and there's solidarity to be had in a cool spring night spent under the stars.

Oh, look, there's even some non-perishable food and wine from the Dance. Combined with what can be hunted or foraged, as well as snacks and drinks stolen from the concession stand, there's plenty to go around. This might even be a little bit fun! Anyone up for another game of Never Have I Ever? Maybe a little Truth or Dare? Or perhaps you just want to chat and unwind with your friends. Whatever the case may be, have fun. This is your time. After darkness, there is a dawn. At the death of Sorrow, there is joy.

Comments

[not_a_traitor]

"I'm not, really," he admits. He takes a drag on his cigarette. "I only started singing... mm, a little over a year ago? Helped distract me from the pain after this."

He taps his right knee, indicating the prosthetic leg hidden under his trousers.

"Tonight's the most I think I've done since." A slight shrug. "Maybe I should more often, though. For better reasons."

[itsjustabaddream]

Neil chuckles. "If you're worried about your throat, a cigarette won't help," he teases. "But I agree that you should! I'd like to play your accompaniment again sometime."

[not_a_traitor]

Gaeta snorts a plume of smoke out his nose: not quite a laugh, though his smile grows a tad. "It's a bad habit," he says peaceably. "Here."

He holds it out to Neil.

"And if you want to accompany me anytime -- " he weights it just enough to brush against a double entendre -- "I won't say no."

[itsjustabaddream]

"Is that so?" Neil leans in, taking a drag from the cigarette directly from Gaeta's hands.

Seems he understands the assignment.

[not_a_traitor]

"Mm."

He feels a little drunk as he watches him. Flushed and warm; lightheaded from the smoke. Hardly any inhibitions standing in the way. With the hand not holding the cigarette, Gaeta traces a couple fingers around the knot of Neil's tie.

Then in one decisive movement, he hooks those fingers underneath the knot, grip closing tight, and drags him into a kiss.

[itsjustabaddream]

There's a heated exhale from Neil, smoke flooding the space between them as that gap closes. He doesn't resist, hands rising to find Gaeta's jaw and neck on either side.

The kiss is slow. Sweet. Almost beckoning. Electric. There is some strange quality to Neil's affections that makes it feel like a temptation, as if every part of him exudes that fierce magic that he's been known to hide. It seems in keeping with everything else about him, and what he hides under that unassuming exterior.

He lingers, waiting for Gaeta to be the one to pull away.

[not_a_traitor]

Oh, gods, that's nice. If he'd known how far this would outpace his occasional idle daydreams, Gaeta would have done it ages ago. Every small shift, every deepening, even the feel of Neil's hands on his face and neck entices him to stay longer. He only pulls away a fraction to catch his breath, tasting more smoke on the inhale, before he kisses him a second time.

There's a hunger to the way Gaeta kisses, as if, now that some binding has been loosened, he strains at its remnants to break the rest of the way free. He twists Neil's tie further around his fingers to keep him put.

[itsjustabaddream]

There's a playful chuckle as Gaeta does this, as the tug on his neck tightens ever so slightly. Neil parts, only a breath's distance away. "Worried I'll try to escape?" There's a devilish lilt to his voice, a wicked delight. "Or are you just trying to steer?"

[not_a_traitor]

That tone grips the base of Gaeta's spine as hard as if he were still kissing him. The magnetic pull still fizzing under Neil's skin makes him want to push in, grab hold of anything he can reach, and he almost laughs; gods, could it be more obvious he hasn't gotten laid in over a year. A little clumsily, without looking, he stubs out his cigarette in the dirt so he can splay his other hand over Neil's thigh.

"Depends," he says, with a roughness that definitely isn't just the laryngitis. "Are you planning to run?"

He leans a little extra pressure against Neil's leg.