In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
Shattered Grimoires is the work of the mind(s) of Ardere & Shattered Grimoire's staff. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. Black Clover is owned by Yuki Tabata and published by Viz Shonen Jump. All images belong to their original owners. The theme you are currently viewing was made by Eliza of ElizaCodes exclusively for Shattered Grimoires.
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] Winter. [break][break] The season was not particularly his favorite. When the weather turned cold enough for snow to begin falling from the sky, it obviously meant to keep people indoors, coddled by fireplaces, blankets, and the warmth of loved ones. The Yule season itself was in full swing, with decorations lining most of the Town’s main thoroughfare. Wreaths of green and holly, frosted leaves and snowflakes made of magic, all meant to get shoppers in the mood for the festivities that were lined up for that year. [break][break] How odd to think that Daemons still threatened their every way of life and everyone still had Yule on the mind. [break][break] It was a holiday meant to be celebrated with others. Vaile Valentine understood this well. But he was rather accustomed to spending it alone. His father had told him this holiday was not meant for people like him but meant for those with families. [break][break] That and whoever had a warm body. [break][break] It wasn’t the first time a holiday would be blatantly used for the sake of marketing promotion, even among the less family-friendly products. Advertisers were shameless in every resolve. [break][break] So how did he find himself standing in front of said shameless advertising model? Vaile tucked his scarf closer to his face, sighing both internally and externally. The whole sexy santa deal shouldn’t have been so blatantly out on the open, should it? At least, his last stint at the whole modeling career didn’t make him dress up in that garish outfit. Summer and fall were over, but showing off skin was still enough in the style for winter, at least, for a lingerie store. [break][break] Little did he realize that others were crowding onto this market street…
Usually, he wouldn’t be out on the market streets personally to make a delivery to his clients– there were servants and messengers for that– but he had a particular custom request he wanted done sooner rather than later. Not because there was a deadline he needed it by, but because he simply wanted it sooner rather than later. The artisans wouldn't deny him the bed robe he had in mind, not when his father was the provider of their top quality materials.
So there he was, outside with a box in hand containing a selection of silks, threads, and other trinkets he collected for his piece. The street was bustling just as the season was bustling despite the lowering temperatures that threatened their comfort. The people were merry, and how he loved that they were merry. Somewhat 'front-lining' the war on daemons and all other evils of the world was tedious for someone unwilling. Mor would take any and every opportunity for festivities, just as he did with the Spirit Ball not too long ago.
But the day just couldn’t have gone smoothly. As he neared the workshop he favored and chose for this project, he caught a familiar face standing before the show windows. It hadn’t been long since the two of them last worked together– not long enough for him to forget, at least. That height and bright head of white was unmistakable, and a frown settled onto the knight’s face as his pace slowed to a stop just a few meters away from his destination.
It wasn’t the memories of the two of them rehearsing their lines together nor the stages they performed before crowds that rose to the forefront of his mind, but the barest touch of warmth from the other’s lips in a stolen kiss at the end of it all. Why was it that moment that he had to remember first? Mor's frown deepened.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), his train of thought was interrupted when three masked individuals burst through the doors of the shop the thespians stood in front of. With the dark clothes and concealed identities, they were nothing but rogue criminals holding loot in their hands. Gods know what they needed to ransack a store specialized in undergarments and sleepwear (were they that desperate to spice up their bedroom life with holiday lingerie for their lovers?), but there they were with goods in their hands, running away from the yelling merchant and towards his direction.
A typical knight would've done knightly things for knightly reasons, but it was one of Mor's "days off". He wasn't geared to deal with shenanigans nor did he have the attitude to, so like all other fearful citizens in the proximity, the slacker tried to sidestep away from the assailants as to not become collateral damage, but the fates were not feeling kind to him and the third deviant aggressively yanked away the box from his hands. The audacity. Like hell they knew what was in it.
Now, it was personal.
Irked that he couldn't even appreciate this little break, Mor set after the perpetrators with the same pace they passed him with. Hands reached into the depths of his own coat to find the grimoire strapped at his hip, cold air slipping through parted fabrics and cutting the delicate bubble of warmth to chill his torso. Winter wasn't kind, and neither will he once he gets those thugs underfoot.
Delicate pages rippled when withdrawn and summoned from its slumber. Moonlight shone from the lyrics that danced up from the cured parchment, and serpentine words were already on the tip of Mor's tongue, waiting for their cue amongst the haunting melody the mage had already started humming.
It was the nascent entrance of a siren's lullaby.
629
Last Edit: Dec 11, 2020 21:58:28 GMT -5 by Mor Nokev
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] Valentine did sense the boy before he saw him. [break][break] Boy. Perhaps he felt nothing more for the mere youth than believing him a child. And so if he was a child then there was nothing to be thought of about him. A young, mere ignorant boy who thought the world better of him and himself better than the world. [break][break] Though, none of it helped with the fact that he did have a rather pretty face. [break][break] Furthermore, lips still left a shadow of their presence upon his own. [break][break] He shouldn’t have been surprised, the young Lion was likely a frequent to the Town Silva, with that galactic size ego he fit right in among his fellow noble blood. Though, seeing him in front of the rather questionable window display, perhaps made things ever more strange between them. As crimson eyes caught cerulean gems, there was not an exchange of words spoken aloud. Snow fell lightly from the air, fluttering down in flecks of white. Breathe let out in cold clouds of vapor. Empty staring served no exact purpose. [break][break] Thankfully there was a distraction. [break][break] A gang of thieves burst forth from the shop, Vaile blinked stepping back and out of the way of getting so trampled from the vagabonds making their getaway. The shouts of employees inside only proved the crime that was being committed, but Vaile held back an immediate reaction. It was not his duty as a citizen to stop crime, nor was it his moral obligation. He only acted selflessly when he had the care to. [break][break] But of course, things had to take a rather certain turn. One of said criminals had snatched away the apparent goods of that young Knight. [break][break] So, naturally, that meant he had to do something about it. Mor was already rushing along, but Vaile let out a short sigh. Did thieves really have no better place to rob? And what kind of drunken decision made them want to rob in the middle of daylight, at that kind of specialty store? [break][break]
A grimoire of shadows floated freely from his side, dark pages flipped through, glowing with a dark aura of mana. He flickered his strength, if only for a moment. [break][break] “Aviarius” A cold shadow of mana crept up upon his back, wings of darkness spread out, lifting him gently off the ground. With a short flap, he was quickly following in pursuit. [break][break] With a short wave of his wings, shadows crept onto the young Lion’s torso, spreading out to wings of his own that would take him into the air, whether perhaps, he wanted to be there or not. And both would quickly find that their speed in the air greatly outmaneuvered said thieves on the ground. Vaile, naturally so, zoomed ahead, unfurling his wings outward as he twisted around, causing snow to swirl up in a miniature whirlwind created by his aerobatics. [break][break] “You shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you.”
Fast Lane:Transportation spells may give an additional 5 meters a second faster than normal. Once they become Grand rank this increases to 10 meters a second.
[break] Description: Vaile creates a pair of raven’s wings extending from the small of his back. From tip to tip the wingspan is 5 meters long, with shadow 'feathers' appearing to constantly wither and fall from them. The wings appear to be made of solid shadow and grant Vaile independent flight ability, also increasing their maneuverability and overall speed. Besides creating wings for himself, he is able to create wings for allies and other targets, however, they must remain within his range. The maximum number of wings Vaile can create is equal to the normal passenger number for a senior transportation spell (5).
Ha ha. They could mock and sneer at him all they wanted with their disguises fit for escape (compared his own glamoured robes that tangled around his trying legs), but at the end of the day, he'd still have enough money to buy out each of their lives no matter how much lingerie they tried to steal. And even if the stolen materials could be easily replaced, the chase was something to blow off anger, especially if the anger was caused by the targets.
Mor and his clothes were not to be trifled with.
The mage took a measured breath but instead of a measured spell coming out, an unmeasured yell came as tendrils unknown yanked him up by the back– preluded too quickly by a sudden, unsettling pulse of mana. Black was the grip around his torso and black were the beating wings he saw in his peripherals. His gaze swung left and right to glare upon the appendages clinging onto him.
It was unsettling, both the suddenness of being meters in the air and the mad resonance murky power that came with it. Despite feeling weightless in the sky, the magic in work weighed like a burden. It was foreign and unlike his own glimmering music.
Fright aside, who had the audacity? If this was one of the pranks and games by that lot of thieves…
Quick and nimble was the body that speared through the air past him, nothing like the heavy gravity of power the individual emanated. And the look was just as polarized.
Wispy licks of shadows only made the head of silver threads more noticeable. Ah, him.
Mor growled under his breath.
Hands clenched as they desperately longed for something to go according to plan this unfortunate day. The wings upon his back meant no harm so far, but it wasn't as if it was simply following his own whims and wishes.
The knight felt like– and probably looked like– the most ungraceful ornament in the sky, limbs paddling at nothing as if strokes of his arms could swim him towards the direction he wanted to go (downwards) instead of the direction they were taking him (after the shadowy master). All the folds and layers of his coats and robes were useless now with cold air blowing its way up underneath. His hair was just as unruly, unbound for the season and mussed into tangles by the snowy winds.
What was mad lad doing anyways? Reprimanding the thieves like they were five year olds caught sneaking into the pantry at midnight for lollies? How terrifying.
"Valentine!!" Mor shouted at after the newfound opponent. He flooded his demand with as much compulsion as he could manage with his mana though remained unsure of its effects from what he gleamed of the other's magnitude. Either way, "Unhand me and set me down this instant!"Brute. His precious song, prepared and intended to lure the criminals back to him but now wasted on an old colleague.
Why is the world making it so hard to ground himself? Literally.
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] As thick as thieves, or at least, that was how the phrase went. How rather, annoying. [break][break] The group of robbers didn’t immediately show regret for their actions, something Valentine likely should have expected. After all, they had been daft enough to rob a store in broad daylight. They did stumble at his sudden appearance in front of them, with his wings of shadow taking him gracefully ahead, allowing him to levitate just a few meters in the air. [break][break] He crossed his arms, figuring there was no trouble in scaring them a little. [break][break] A dark grimoire floated freely at his side, arms crossed with crimson eyes that looked darkly below him. [break][break] It was just a little scare. [break][break] “Memento…” But the spell was not fully cast, nothing but a mere half-illusion. Shadows swirled in a visage behind him, a towering figure with tattered robes and a skeletal body. It was the reaper of death, if not a half-formed shadow of what one would see when the end would come. Mana was dark and cold, showing no remorse for the ones who had committed such a foolish act in front of him. His frown remained half-hearted, lips twitched ever so slightly. [break][break] Even if his intention had only been a scare, there was another thought that provoked him. What if he didn’t just scare them? No one would care for a gang of fools. What if they had the full taste of death, rather than just a vision of it? Perhaps some people deserved that. [break][break] Nameless, arrogant fools who the world would not miss. And with his thoughts, the shadow of the reaper grew darker and deeper. Until… [break][break] "Valentine!!" [break][break] A shrill cry of a songbird. Distracted, Valentine did look up. The once forming reaper dissipated into the air, though its appearance had been rather ingrained in the minds of its targets. Ignoring them for a moment, Vaile saw the rather comical sight of the said songbird. [break][break] Mor Nokev, hanging rather ungracefully in the sky, apparently unable to become accustomed to the ability of flying. A flightless songbird then. Vaile let himself laugh. Because… it was funny. [break][break] “What’s the matter songbird? Never learned how to fly?” He jested, as he waved his hands again. From his grimoire, pages turned. And with thieves looking incredulously at the odd pair, Valentine’s crimson eyes shot daggers back at them. “Gladiolas.” [break][break] Swords of shadow swiftly took shape and were embedded into stone with powerful force. The swords formed a threatening fence around the thieves, who seemed all too simply an afterthought to the shadow mage. [break][break] Floating casually to the Lion Knight’s side, Vaile flicked his wings almost too teasingly. “Hard to unhand you when I haven’t set one on you.” He shrugged, acting as if this was the most natural conversation to be having. He allowed himself another smart chuckle, before answering back at Mor with a more serious tone. [break][break] “Don’t fight it. The wings will move naturally as you wish them to.” He raised a hand, moving fingers deliberately through the air. The shadow wings, under his command, would move to put Mor in a more calm, upright position and keep him properly there, given that he wouldn’t be flailing as much. [break][break] Though perhaps Valentine was enjoying this a little too much.
COMBAT SUMMARY
[attr="class","lonelytempy2"]
[attr="class","lonelystats"]
MANA SKIN
archmage
MANA POOL
240/240
HEALTH
grand
MANA REGEN
60 ic // 55 ooc
[attr="class","lonelystats"]
POW
175 (+9)
DUR
000
SEN
031
STA
100
CON
120
[attr="class","lonelyscroll2"] Mana: 240 - 15 - 30 + 60 = 240/240 [break][break] TL;DR Maintains redbull wings, makes some swords to trap some thieves [break][break] SPELLS:[break] Umbra Aviarius
Fast Lane:Transportation spells may give an additional 5 meters a second faster than normal. Once they become Grand rank this increases to 10 meters a second.
[break] Description: Vaile creates a pair of raven’s wings extending from the small of his back. From tip to tip the wingspan is 5 meters long, with shadow 'feathers' appearing to constantly wither and fall from them. The wings appear to be made of solid shadow and grant Vaile independent flight ability, also increasing their maneuverability and overall speed. Besides creating wings for himself, he is able to create wings for allies and other targets, however, they must remain within his range. The maximum number of wings Vaile can create is equal to the normal passenger number for a senior transportation spell (5).
This perk allows a person's spells to naturally move 5 m/s faster than normal, this increases to 10 m/s at grand rank.
[break]Description: Using his shadow element, Vaile creates a giant-sized longsword, a double-edged straight sword. The blade length is 2 m, 75 cm wide, with a large two handed grip. The giant blade is able to cause major [Senior] Rank damage, which is lethal at a direct hit, can shatter and break bones, slice major/severe cuts, and destroy most non-magical structures. Vaile controls the blade remotely within a range area or he can shoot it off to slice or fire at an enemy from a distance. Vaile is able to create an additional sword per ammo rules.
“Ha ha.”Funny joke. Why did it surprise him that the guy would seize every opportunity to find a laugh at him? “As much as I sing, I am still just a human not built for flight. That makes you the anomaly,” he replied bitterly whilst pointing an accusing finger at the silverette. Though, Mor felt that the true tragedy was the soiling of such a nascent nickname.
Songbird. He had never been called such monikers before. The knights were too busy being stoic and strong to be amorous, and his beloved mother had gone before his music manifested. If he could have the chances to serenade her during sunny afternoons in their blooming gardens…
He should’ve suggested the man to go into comedy instead of theatre as a career, maybe even recommend him as a palace jester. Mor was close to starting a counter of how many times Vaile decided to nag or mock him, and this time he wouldn’t be surprised if the counter hit ten within the next hour.
The shadow sorcerer didn’t hesitate in cementing his summons and caged the perpetrators with black in no mercy. It was flashy, flamboyant, and much different from his own translucent magic barely discernible to the eye– for it was meant to be heard rather than looked at.
Mor loved it.
Maybe the man’s got something going for them.
He couldn't say no to someone who appreciated the arts (if you could call it art). The spells were a performance to be seen, and he watched with a keen eye. Although it was tedious to exercise his own powers, he'd never grow tired of witnessing others'. He even dared to egg more from the mage, to see the strengths exercisable.
He would've if it weren't for the fact that the magic felt so ominous. No one was a fan of impending doom, especially the captive criminals. Muscle flexing can come another day.
Especially if Valentine intended to ruin his moods with each passing second.
“You know what I mean,” he snapped, gesturing to the tendrils anchoring his chest to the sprouting wings at his back. "Unless that head of yours is too filled with jokes to think about anything else. A pity, really, if you've become a lunatic since the last I saw you." Even thought it was a futile attempt, his fingers tried picking at the magic again as if it was some tangible gear he could undress from. The shadows slipped through or simply casted its darkness onto his figure.
Being told not to fight it just tempted him to do so more– the usual rebellion– and he would have if it were even possible. How could one fight illusions that weren’t yet were at the same time?
Mor let himself float as a wave of Valentine's fingers adjusted his orientation which was better but still not as perfect as being on the ground. If the day wouldn't be going his way, he crossed his arms and pouted his lips. Just as fruitless as his flying, he too tried wrapping his coat tighter around himself. It was made with the best fabrics and furs, but the outerwear was designed for walking. Seamstresses probably didn't consider updrafts during the making, and neither did he when rummaging through his closet that morning.
"Well?" The Lion pointedly looked at the stray before gesturing a cold hand at the caged critters. "Carry on. Were you going to reprimand these thieves? Save this prince in distress by rescuing and returning their mysterious box to them? Or just leave them there to die, making me pry my materials back from their rotting fingers."
If someone was volunteering to do the work for him, why resist?
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Last Edit: Dec 26, 2020 4:04:06 GMT -5 by Mor Nokev
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] It was funny, he could laugh. And perhaps he could say something that was significant at the odd time. [break][break] “Odd to think, but perhaps some of us were born to fly.” He said, keeping his casual intonation. It was better that way, to keep things light and airy, because anything further was too many steps too close to something more. “But I jest.” It was fun to have fun, perhaps he had gone too long without it. [break][break] “You know what I mean,” [break][break] For the grace of a songbird, his words held the sting of a viper. Regardless, there were still few things that could worm their way under Valentine’s skin. Maybe said songbird was getting too comfortable with the idea, and maybe a certain shadow mage was getting too complacent with it too. [break][break] He danced some kind of game, one that balanced obsession with the reality of the world he lived in, the reality that any obsession was an unhealthy one. Because any good songbird knew just how much a trance their song put its victims in. [break][break]
“You are a romantic, just like me.”
[break][break] He could ignore those words. [break][break] “What if I told you not to worry if you made me a lunatic or not?” He sighed, almost a bit too ruefully. “Because truthfully I’m already there.” His own words were said with a practised smile and actioned wink. Oh, the voices in his head could certainly attest to that. Yes, he’d been there on the bring on insanity or past it, for a lot longer than any man should’ve admitted to. [break][break] But furthermore, the little lion man did have a point. What was he do with a gang of thieves now graciously caught in a cage of shadows. As if on cue, the merchants the robbers had stolen from were coming down the street, clamouring around the thieves with a pair of mantle-clad Knights. [break][break]
“I’m just a good citizen doing my part.” Vaile offered his words for what they were, bowing his head in an all too formal manner. Because in another way, it was rather fun to belittling knights if he could, but what would a chaotic world be without some order in it? [break][break] The silver-haired mage of shadows finally went about letting the poor songbird down to his feet, shadows vanished, dissipating into the still air and leaving both men’s backs devoid of their cold grip. And not a moment too soon. [break][break] With contraband re-branded, it was Vaile who stood up, thanked the Knights for their service, and with a delicate enough hand, found the belongings of the noble youth. Matters were taken care of, so it was the least he could do. Another exaggerated bow, accompanied Valentines’ apparent penchant for dramatics that day. [break][break] “I wouldn’t imagine having to make you do any dirty work, Sir Nokev.”
COMBAT SUMMARY
[attr="class","lonelytempy2"]
[attr="class","lonelystats"]
MANA SKIN
archmage
MANA POOL
240/240
HEALTH
grand
MANA REGEN
60 ic // 55 ooc
[attr="class","lonelystats"]
POW
175
DUR
000
SEN
031
STA
100
CON
120
[attr="class","lonelyscroll2"] [break][break] TL;DR stops casting spells, lets magic knights do the work [break][break] SPELLS: stops casting all his spells
They took the jibe in stride, and Mor raised a brow at the reaction. Dear Valentine, embracing oneself as a lunatic and even winking at the confession. Were they mad? They were definitely mad. They'd probably come after him after this whole debacle was over. The rescue could've all been an act. He knew the man was an actor, after all.
A good citizen they were to jump straight into action and combat the thieves, if one ignored the meddlesome methods exercised. A good citizen was no longer needed when true enforcement caught up to the band of bandits and them, some faces barely familiar while the rest were foriegn. He didn't make a habit of getting to know all the knights.
But bless the spirits that Valentine had the courtesy to let him back down in front of the rest. Once both his feet rested back on the solid ground, Mor took to righting his clothes once more. Folds were dusted away and layers were reoriented back to their rightful place. It wasn't anything quick and took a minute or two before the fashionista was content with the appearance he intended.
Looking up from his furs, the Knights had taken their hands and gripped it tight around the situation, giving the opportunity for stolen items to be returned. The silverette went for his decorated box first to return it personally– he assumed. Watching the mannered, showy bows along with the presented offering, Mor's chest dared to flutter.
Yeah, the guy was crazy but they appeared charming too.
“I wouldn’t imagine having to make you do any dirty work, Sir Nokev.” A pleased smile settled on the addressed's lips, but he didn't take back his rescued belongings just yet. "Darling, you're too kind~" he crooned in a honeyed voice.
Instead, Mor walked over to where the merchants were gathering their things back up. Projecting his voice so that his day's hero could still hear, he asked, "Might you let me offer you a gift of gratitude for your aid?" Hands picked up one of the items amongst the pile of stolen goods and lifted it to eye level.
A red velvet underpant whose cut was much too exposing for ordinary use. The waistband was lined in a rich pelt of white, and after feeling the soft fur under his fingers, he deduced it to be from a quality winter hare. It was just the right luxury he expected from his father's clients, and his smile widened. Even bells of silver had been added to the front with a maroon ribbon.
"Of course, the gift doesn't have to be this risque. You can choose anything you'd like, anything you'll receive as proper payment. Though I have to say..." Mor lowered the lingerie so that he could preview how it'd look like on the shadow mage.
"You'd look quite strapping in this," he mused under his breath.
2246
Last Edit: Jan 4, 2021 2:59:14 GMT -5 by Mor Nokev
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] "Darling, you're too kind~" [break][break] Because kindness was an easy virtue to fake. Well, maybe he did think about doing good things because it felt good. Wasn’t that the reason why anyone argued for a moral agenda? He supposed that was why anyone did anything good at all, to fulfill some selfish desires for themselves. Because doing good things, as trivial and as fake as they were, felt good. [break][break] And he wouldn’t care to admit, when he was with this abash young Lion, he almost had the calling to do more good things. [break][break] That unsettled something within him that he didn’t like. [break][break] So, what was this feeling yet? The one that pulled every so subtly at his chest? It didn’t feel right. He didn’t like that look with vexing interest. One could say that he almost hated it. Almost. [break][break] But hate bred obsession, it was an ache that put forth something that he had to push down and away. But one could say that in the heat of the moment, walls could fall and precautions could be forgotten. He should’ve left when he had the chance when the poor soul was assisting the merchants with whatever was their assets to be taken back. [break][break] But he didn’t. [break][break] Something else caught his attention because the little Lion was practically waving it around for all to see. Crimson red, but not the shade of his eyes. A garment so garish and indecent, something that he, yes, solely hated and had only been calling for its absurdity moments ago. It was barely even to be called a garment at all. [break][break] "You'd look quite strapping in this," [break][break] “I’m not sure.” He said, his words said swiftly back. “Maybe we should find out.” [break][break]
He smiled, perhaps because he was mad. He was already there, losing his mind to lunacy and the like. Why couldn’t he have a moment to fall into the salacious, irrelevant desires? Maybe it was a mistake. But as of late, those were the only kind of choices he was allowing himself to make.
The nascent heir gave the man a look of surprise before his lips fell into a wide, lecherous smirk. Who would've thought that an individual like them would've accepted the proposal. Valentine had a cold edge to their demeanor, yet there was a spontaneity in them from what he's glimpsed of so far. Whatever was going on in their mind, it was hard to decipher, and they were absolutely full of surprises. Surprises that Mor had nothing against and wanted to see more of to figure out.
He'd already seen the man in dresses and petticoats, admittedly a sight to behold and admire. Now he'd get the chance to see the man not only bared to undergarments again but also clad in taunting strips of velvet that left little to the imagination. "Yes," he sweetly crooned, "We should try it out~"
Mor didn't offer the silverette another look before turning to one of the merchants and starting easy conversation with them as if they were long time friends. With the lingerie hanging from his pinkie finger as if it belonged there, the knight took said merchant's hands into his own before giving the usual greeting with sweet words and kisses.
What he asked for was one of the nicer fitting rooms and a tailoring for the new bedsilk he wanted once they got back to the shop. At the request for a venue, the store artisan stole a quick glance at the crimson eyed civilian but commented nothing. The man was their hero, afterall. "It would be our pleasure to have you visit our shop for the afternoon, Sir," they spoke to their new guest. "Consider it our thanks, on top of the one our merry Mor is already giving you."
The smile never really left Mor's face with how mischievous he dared to be during encounters like this– although putting a past, temporary colleague into decorated panties was nothing like his usual business endeavors.
First a farewell kiss from their time at the theatre, then a helping hand in catching criminals, and now an invitation to explore a lingerie store's selection. Valentine must've started fancying him, or Mor would quit both of his careers for having interpreted the signs so terribly. What kind of entrepreneur couldn't correctly predict the needs of his clients?
He turned back to the self-declared lunatic and beckoned them forward, "Well then, charming sir, shall we head back to the ransacked store?"
The street wasn't as disastrous as it was when they last left it in a hurried chase after the perpetrators. There was still evidence of the destined store having been disturbed inside with displays still in the middle of being re-set up. What passersby observed over was just the first floor, however, and Mor led Valentine upstairs to where the artisans worked behind the scenes.
He walked past two doors that led to workshops before finally pushing a third open which revealed an empty room. The room was fashion with small curtained rooms, mirrors, and lounges for all things related to getting clothes fitted. And with the confidence of someone familiar with the space, the Knight beckoned over the day's hero once more. In his outstretched palm was the thong draped so boldly. "Into one of those changing rooms you go. If there isn't a chair or any hangers for your clothes, bring them out onto the couch over there."
If the male was obedient enough to follow, Mor would leave them to change and go looking for the boutique's tailor. As much as he desired to peek at the bared body again, he still had a task to complete.
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Last Edit: Jan 13, 2021 1:51:23 GMT -5 by Mor Nokev
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] Oh, he was good at that, wasn’t he? [break][break] Saying things that he would regret. [break][break] But afterthought didn’t happen til afterward. Right here and right now, he was still living in the moment, and he wasn’t regretting anything yet. There was another reason to ignore the most obvious problems that treading skinship could cause… [break][break] Lips had had a taste, but they required more than a hint now. What else could one do except satisfy the craving? The better question was why there were so many more steps to get to it. Wouldn’t it have been better to leave desires just as that, desires? Because if there was anything more than that, it was dangerous. [break][break] But azure eyes like the ocean only smirked at him. And then it was his turn to provide a roll of crimson red. Playing the game, that was it. He could play games, better to entertain him for what it was worth. [break][break] "Well then, charming sir, shall we head back to the ransacked store?" [break][break] He was making all the wrong decisions that afternoon, wasn’t he? First, it was criticizing the very attire he’d just volunteered himself for. The next would be taking this fancy of a handsome, idiotic stranger another step further. Now, there was no going back. [break][break] [break][break] Well, in this case, they were still returning to the scene of the day’s original crime. Though nearly every other feeling in Valentine’s chest was concerned that he was committed another one. What good was it to entertain the fancies of this little Lion? He was following along now, but there was no script to be rehearsed or rehashed. [break][break] And every step was one he couldn’t take back. [break][break]
When they found themselves in this dressing room, he was ordered around. He still found it cute to think that the Knight found himself and believed himself to be in charge. Well, maybe that wasn’t so much as cute as it was… enthralling. Of whether or not he liked being told what to do, Vaile most often didn’t care to listen at all. [break][break] But he could set aside his normal occurrences for something abnnormal, couldn’t he? [break][break] “Sure, you don’t want to look?” Vaile smirked, letting his outstretched hand take the skimpy piece of fabric that the so-called outfit was. “Won’t be much left of me that you won’t have seen.” [break][break] It was a funny line. [break][break] But perhaps Valentine lingered on the word too long because the man was already gone. [break][break] Was there a side to Vaile Valentine that he wasn’t showing? That he wasn’t allowed to? As he backed into the changing room, his mind wandered elsewhere while his body went through the motions of peeling off his clothes. Light skin, lithe body, tall and toned physique, one could have hardly thought that long ago he’d been a sickly child in his youth. [break][break]
“Are you making a mistake?”
[break]Looking into the mirror, he saw his ghost speak to him. There was the obvious answer, but he didn’t say it out loud. He’d resolved to make that mistake tonight, because for lack of anything else better to say, for lack of any other excuse to give, Mor did stir some feeling in his chest. [break][break] It wasn’t hope. It was the possibility of it. And perhaps that was more dangerous than the promise of something else entirely. [break][break]
He buried her criticism down deep, peeling off the rest of his attire. Sighing to himself, he looked at the set of lingerie he so generously volunteered himself for. [break][break] Right, no regrets. Not yet. [break][break] There were two ways to wear it, one with embarrassment, the other with confidence. His own half-smirk was dangerous. He knew that well enough. And he wouldn’t be shown up by his own words. At least for the moment, he was a man of his word. [break][break] So stepping out, he was wearing it and by the spirits, if he didn’t own wearing it. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d gone half-naked for the summer line’s photoshoot, was lingerie any different? There were lines here that were crossed, but he was far past thinking he had much modesty left. [break][break] Leaning back on his feet, he put a hand to his forehead, not yet meeting the eyes of any onlooker. [break][break] Because when Mor returned, he only had one question to ask. “How about it? Am I strapping enough for you?”
When he walked over to the workshop rooms, the shop's clothier already had several samples folded on the table along with the templates saved from Mor's last request. It brought a smile to his face to see the workers so attentive, and he voluntarily picked up some of the supplies to help bring them back to the fitting room where they'd flesh out the final design.
Expecting their guest to still have been in the changing room, Mor couldn’t help but stare at the flaunted body visible to those returning to the room. The man was even prepared with their own line, almost rehearsed just for when he entered. ’Am I strapping enough for you?’
The bluenette didn’t respond immediately, but took a hungry look up and down the bare skin first. Even the employee behind him watched how obviously his eyes moved across the silverette’s contours.
Why did he ever imagine the guy to be shy? Valentine performed as Ruliet before hundreds and had a modeling gig prior to that stint. They certainly weren’t shying away from the lingerie’s revealing cuts, and Mor was all for it. Who didn’t love a man so bold? The cloths he held were unceremoniously added onto the artisan's load, and he didn’t take his eyes off the built stature as he walked further towards the half-naked, wondering if he’d get a taste.
The knight stepped up close, hands lifting to rest themselves on each of the bared pectorals if allowed the touch. If permitted, one of his fingers would start to draw circles against the taut skin. It drew one round then another before choosing to roam down towards the abdomen, the cerulean gaze following the trail.
“Yes,” he praised sweetly. “You are strapping. You will be in or out of that little outfit you have on.” A rogue hand of his flicked the little bell tied to the front of the undergarment, bringing further attention to it. His eyes were on the red pair now, unwavering and drinking in every reaction he could get. "Is that what you want? To be enough? For me?"
The thought of it aroused him. He loved it when people chased after him, loved the attention that often came with it, and loved tempting the desire out of the victims. He just wasn’t a fan of prolonging the chase. If the reward was right there, why wait to take it? Why dry himself if he could partake in pleasure already?
Mor was self-indulgent.
“You are enough. Or did you want something more than just words? Did you want me? I've seen your eyes on me a lot, Valentine~
“How do you imagine it, wanting me?” he dared further with his face pressed closer and his lips barely speaking against the other’s. “Do you imagine me mewling in your arms? On my back with these navy lock spilled out or tangled between your fingers as you rut me into the sheets?
“Or do you imagine it the other way around? You, split open on my lap and singing to me, the songbird, in pleasure and pleas of being claimed for the night?” His own whispered words had himself smirking lecherously. There was a chance he was getting ahead of himself, but Mor was one to shoot his shots and didn't hold back.
“Beg for me, Valentine, and I will give you anything you want. More than this little loincloth on your hips.” He played with the item again at the mention of it, snapping the velvet waistband. “Unless, that's all you're looking for.”
Mor abruptly took a wide step back and neatly clasped his hands behind his back, acting as if they were having any other ordinary conversation over purchasing clothes. He wanted the strange mage to know that there were options, even if he heavily implied his preferences for a particular choice.
“If the velvet appears too soft for your liking, there’s variations that uses leather if you’d like the hardiness of hide better.” Except it wasn’t the bottoms that the Lion’s imagination was concerned with. He was quite vividly wondering if the other would accept the touch of leather adorned around the neck.
Oh, what a sight that would be.
And oh, the poor clothier still standing very awkwardly and abashedly by the lounge room's door, staring at the floor with cheeks rosy and materials occupying their arms.
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] He supposed that was it. Because now, there was no going back. [break][break] Was he that easy of a read? Or perhaps, that easy of a catch? No, Mor Nokev was not a complex person to read, and therefore, he, Valentine, should’ve known all along the licentious desires that just lay beneath the surface. [break][break] And how licentious it was. [break][break] He allowed it, the curious hands that trailed across his skin, going so provocatively lower and lower again. How long had it been? Long enough, since the last time he’d let his own feral instincts take hold, to lose himself to what only his body wanted. For a man who was so often so lost in his own mind, perhaps that was the more dangerous road to take. [break][break] "Is that what you want? To be enough? For me?" [break][break] Was that what he wanted? Was the man even going to let him answer? What did he want? It was too easy to say something as simple as a bed and pretty body to share it with. So why didn’t he just say it? [break][break] Crimson eyes searched for cerulean, not backing down from their rousing gaze. [break][break] Visceral words had such vulgar imagery. And it fit because, at that moment in time, Valentine himself was leaving little to the imagination. Lips shadowed his own, so teasing close as they let out such debauched dialogue. It was hardly something deserving of praise, yet the scenes he was proposing were all too ravishing to be dismissed so easily. It wasn’t fair really, not fair at all; to be so close to tasting those lips again, to stir need to muster up bedsheets and sweat, only to be denied so flagrantly. [break][break] The snap of a waistband got his attention. [break][break] He blinked, letting his shoulders rest as he leaned back on his heels. “Congratulations, you’ve read me like a book, got me all worked up, and now you just let me out to dry?” He tapped his chin in mock of a thinking pose. “Hardly think that’s fair, isn’t it?” He voiced his disadvantages out loud because, yes, this was an uneven playing field. [break][break] “Not after all I’ve done for you, Sir Nokev.” Whether the formality meant something else entirely, one would have to guess, but actions spoke far louder anyway. Vaile knelt to a knee, his hand reaching for an enamored other. Gentle as his touch was firm, he cupped fingers in his hand, and his lips graced the back of Mor’s palm so sweetly. [break][break] He tilted his head upward. Audacious lips turned up to a smile. Didn’t they enjoy playing their roles after all? From a Ruliet and Jomeo, to a cerulean beauty and a crimson-eyed beast. [break][break] “If we’re talking about preferences, is it time I start questioning yours?” Vaile jested, rubbing small circles on the man’s palm as he held it. “Perhaps we shouldn’t…” He trailed off, only looking over to a poor attendant who laid witness to far too many crimes and near-crimes that day. But then again, an audience never truly stopped the man, and neither did it for Valentine. [break][break] It was once again too easy to tell what the Lion was thinking. [break][break] “If I am to keep calling you Sir, at least make it worth my time.”
Left him dry? Mor wanted to tease many words aplenty on that topic but left the man talk, curious on what else they had to respond with. Oh, and what a good idea that was.
The knight nearly purred upon seeing Valentine drop to one knee without a command, not even a request nor hint. His gaze flared with delight and didn’t resist when his hand was taken for a dashing kiss against the back of it.
What a gentleman.
It took willpower for Mor to not tangle a hand into the pale locks and yank obedience from the kneeling one.
He didn’t have to turn around to know who the silverette was looking at behind him, more than aware of the clothier who had no idea what to do– not that he minded much. “Ask my preferences if you wish, dear Valentine~” he coaxed. “But if you’re worried about the titles...”
“I do have a different honorific I’d love to hear from your mouth.” And he would definitely make it worth both their time.
Without sparing another look at the half-naked, Mor turned around and busied himself with the day’s new plans. “Get dressed, mage, unless you plan on frolicking outside wearing that. Though, I wouldn’t mind the flaunt.”
He had taken back his own load of materials from the artisan who accompanied him and gestured for the individual to leave the room once more. “Meet back down at the front once you’re finished, then we can be off on our little… adventure~” And with that final instruction, the Lion followed the shop worker to who knows which one of the rooms.
But Mor was quick with his business, telling the store to put his project on hold until he’d be back at a later date and gathering some items from the inventory’s more questionable section into a neat box. Luscious winter coat donned back on with a new container in hand, the knight returned himself to the doors just broken through earlier that day.
There was undeniably a thrilling anticipation bubbling in him. It had been a while since he challenged a man with reins.
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Last Edit: Jan 28, 2021 2:26:04 GMT -5 by Mor Nokev
[attr="class","lonelyscroll"] “Ask my preferences if you wish, dear Valentine~” [break][break] What a game they were playing and how deliciously lecherous it was. To put it into words did it little justice because now Valentine himself was beyond just vexed. To go this far, he needed to beyond reasoning, to simply leave all his inhibitions behind. What he wanted and what he ruefully desired were two vastly different things. For too long, both seemed so out of reach, and yet when he’d exchanged words and lips with a Knight whose vanity could not be anything but, it had crawled under his skin. It was a parasite that sucked at his soul. [break][break] What else was a host to do, other than to feed it? He simply had no other choice. [break][break] Soft hands caressed by soft lips. And maybe Vaile let a half-smirk escape. As if the Knight could be bothered with working at any moment of his life. [break][break] “I do have a different honorific I’d love to hear from your mouth.” [break][break] Vaile paused, thinking over what the young Lion had suggested. What had he just said anyway? If they were going to go beyond reason, then it was time that he simply fell into that pit of desire. Who was he to keep teasing? He wasn’t the only one being led astray. [break][break] And so he did get up, arms crossed and he laid himself stand with a more casual posture. Weight shifted to one side as he given the man’s back and crimson eyes loomed, looking over to what locks of raven blue hair covered, the nape of a delicate neck. Valentine bit at his lower lip, laughing at himself for thinking such indecent thoughts. But he had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t it his fault, no, not all his own. [break][break] “Convince me your worth calling it then.” He said, shrugging once again. It was a gesture of challenge because he liked to pose it. No, he wasn’t convinced yet, because it had been a while since he’d had this much reason to toy with the idea. [break][break] And so he did change back to his regular attire, and oddly enough, the ghost that watched his every move stopped following him for the moment. Alone in the changing room, he slipped on his pair of black gloves, looking at the black eagle that adorned the back. [break][break] This wasn’t love. [break][break] The thought lingered in his mind. No, romance did not belong to him. It was not something he desired. This was nothing more than the fulfillment of something he’d long locked away. It was all too human of a lust, an itch that needed to be scratched and would be without question. The taste of another’s lips was just that, a taste. He wouldn’t take it any further. [break][break] [break] He was at the doors again, this time on the other side. As the shop wrapped up their day, it was almost too surprising how it had gone back to normal just as quickly. Mor was wrapped up his winter attire, while Vaile remained at his side, this time the silver-haired mage did have all his proper clothes on. [break][break] The excitement that Knight held did not go unnoticed by Valentine, who went out of his way to open the door for Mor, and even offered to carry a bag because that was the gentlemanly thing to do. [break][break] And as the day was coming to a close, it was beginning to turn later, so he could only wonder about the plans to retire to somewhere later that night. An inn room? How quaint.
