PCs with Gerome

[swordhandled]

[ some threads are nsfw ]

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[swordhandled]

[ in the corner minerva is quietly fake throwing up ]

[maskarang]

[ and deirdre is like "what's that sound, it's weird and i'm trying to sleep" ]

[swordhandled]

[ sorry not sorry animals ]

[maskarang]

[ sorry not sorry times two

after who knows how long has passed, gerome makes his way from owain's mouth to his neck, lazily trailing soft kisses along the way. once there, gerome nuzzles his jaw gently ]

[swordhandled]

[ hums pretty pleased and content with everything when gerome nuzzles him. things aren't as terrible when he has gerome in his arms ]

[maskarang]

[ strange to consider when not long ago one of them was in tears and the other was near it, isn't it? next time, he'll remember to start with sad make-outs. he's immensely content to lie here for a while though so unless owain wants to move or speak, he's eventually going to fall asleep ]

[swordhandled]

[ well, time to clearly ruin the mood ]

Did... Did you receive a memory, Gerome?

[maskarang]

[ has owain ever felt someone so relaxed immediately tense up in his arms to the point of their breath halting? if not, now he has. ] ... Yes.

[swordhandled]

Do you wish to talk about it?

[maskarang]

[ there's a long, unbearable silence before he sighs and slumps against owain ] Fate is cruel. It mocks us all, but this time it ripped itself apart only to flaunt its original design.

[swordhandled]

[ wraps his arms tighter around him, listening to gerome's words and trying to get meaning from them ] Was it... about your parents?

[maskarang]

[ muttered quietly ] ... Mother.

[swordhandled]

[ he hums quietly, pulling gerome closer ] So, she was apart of the Foundation as well.

[maskarang]

For what felt like an instant. [ any time spent with her at all would feel too short. this, especially, seemed like no time at all. he debates continuing, there's much he doesn't wish to say but much he feels he should.

he takes some time to wait for his throat to relax, then he swallows and mutters again ] I never asked when she hailed from. I could never bring myself to, but it was clear she wasn't as youthful as the Cherche of the past.

[swordhandled]

[ owain listens quietly, waiting for gerome to get to the crux of the issue. he nods along, giving him the space and time to tell him what happened. when gerome mentions how.... young, the cherche in his memory was, owain can't help but stiffen at the implication there. ]

You believe...? [ he trails off, not wanting to give voice to the thoughts they're certainly sharing here ]

[maskarang]

[ his only reply is silence. if it was, he's lost her again. if it wasn't, she was close enough that she could be called a mirror image anyway. both hurt impossibly, but he doesn't want to focus on the memory

focusing on owain seems better. it seems better, yet, it might be too late. he wedges a hand behind himself and owain, roughly wiping away the tears he wants to fight against. that quickly doesn't feel like enough so he just roughly kisses owain instead ]

[swordhandled]

[ he kisses back just as rough. though, almost in contrast to the kiss, owain's hands come up and gently cradle the sides of gerome's face, thumbs reaching up to brush away the tears that escaped his eyes. ]