[ on on hand, he doesn't want to ask this of mr. biting list but. on the other. he is the most qualified... ]
I'd like to propose a trade, of sorts.
I'll allow you to examine my weaponry, though I will insist that if you'd like for it to be disassembled in any way, you allow me to do so.
In exchange, I'd like to train with you, for lack of a better word. Our meeting has highlighted my deficiencies when it comes to being properly prepared for the variety of fights I can encounter... And I certainly got the impression that you wouldn't go easy on me, which is what I'd prefer.
You are are allowing me the access to study your amazing weapon AND ALSO are asking me to beat you senseless for the purpose of strengthening you for future combat!?
I do not see how this is an adequate trade, I am reaping all of the rewards and receiving all of the benefits.
Nevertheless, I accept.
My expectations are high for you, because you have a clever weapon that requires an adaptive mind to properly utilize. That means you fight with your head, not solely your strength of arm, and THAT means we will be working much, much harder to increase your tactical flexibility. You will not enjoy this at all! It will be wonderful!
[ ...He's wondering that too at the moment, but luckily his newfound fear of being caught completely unawares overrides anything else. ]
To be clear, I would rather it wasn't senseless. I'm honestly not sure how the healing process works for me anymore, since it seems like your bite marks are here to stay.
[ Yet another reason to use the glamor all the time. When he sees those, he just feels Tired. ]
But that aside, I'm perfectly serious, even so. I'm asking you to do this because I assumed you'd have high expectations. I want to be well-trained, not handled lightly. If you take sadistic pleasure from it, so be it, I suppose.
[ Unlucky for Hugo, that he was absolutely imprinted on ( on several levels ) by the nastiest ambush predator known in Karteria; catching rivals unawares is kind of his M.O.......... ]
What you say is music to my ears. I am a taskmaster, but have a reputation for being undefeated.
I will train you. You will not only learn how to adapt, assess, outmaneuver and dominate any field. I would not be keen on accepting you, if I did not think you had a mind fit for this — it is not strictly "strength of arm" you will learn. My greatest strength is my mind, after all.
[ In Greek terms, he's the bloodthirst of Ares and the wisdom of Hera in one. ]
We will begin immediately. Your first task is to find me before I find you.
[ Hugo waits for a minute or so, but the lack is his answer. He really has signed up with a maniac, hasn’t he…
Even so, Hugo is a skilled professional, though this game doesn’t quite play to his strengths. Finding (and taking) things is what he’s best at, but that’s a process with meticulous care. This task is much more like his early days learning from Jack, so he treats it as such.
He grabs his suitcase-scythe, but quickly adds the additional strap so that he can wear it at his side instead. He might need his hands to navigate, after all, since once he slips out his window and onto the fire escape, he heads up to the roof. He has no idea where Set even lives, so he won’t be going on a wild chase and hoping for the best. Instead, he leaps deftly from rooftop to rooftop with a few parkour tricks to make it to the highest vantage point he can manage with a good view of the main streets.
…Granted, Set might be the sort of maniac to do the same sort of thing he is, but. In that case, all the better to have a good view and a wide space to fight, right? ]
[ That is precisely the same methodology that Set employs; having made his home high atop a building in Sophia, he comes from the rooftops and slithers down to the sides of the buildings, tucked in alleys as he climbs along the walls — verdant and clawed all at once. A terrible amalgamation of animal and plant traits that sniffs the air and hunts with the patience of an old, skilled thing. It's more or less a test for both of them: he wants to see how Hugo approaches a situation where there is a threat, but little information. And, he wants to keep himself adapting and excelling.
The city's layout is taller than it is wider, a sprawling metropolis that has enraptured him from the beginning; what a grand use of space, building to higher and higher heights!
He's the one who goes on the move, to find Hugo. Letting his nose lead him toward elements of Hugo's scent that he has captured as memory now, he doesn't waste time. Stalking and ambushing are part of his forte, and eventually his and Hugo's dance leads them to one another — with Set mounting the rooftop behind him, coming over the edge like some horror that crawls over the edge of the bed late at night. Hoping to slip in behind him, leaning over his shoulder to murmur: ] Now that I have found you — how would you get away from me?
[ As Hugo stakes out the city streets below, it occurs to him that Set is actually a much harsher teacher than Jack ever was. Jack may have had his tests and trials that were difficult, but they were always a lesson first. It was various skills that Hugo needed to learn, but it was also to hone the partnership between himself and Lycaon. After all, even if he thinks of the man bitterly now, he wouldn’t deny that they were an excellent team. He finds himself wishing he had Lycaon’s sharp, canine nose to help him out now, annoyingly.
As Set sneaks up, it at least gives a brief glimpse to show that Hugo is no slouch when it comes to the basics of his task, but he’s outmatched by Set’s unusual skills and vast experience. He’s found shadows of the building to blend into, and the effect is even more pronounced now that he’s a Spectral. If you weren’t looking for him, you wouldn’t see him. In fact, from Set’s point of view behind him, what sticks out most is his golden hair.
Attentive as he is at the moment, he’s not caught completely unaware as Set finds him. Just, you know. Mostly. He turns his head in sharp surprise as he hears the rustle of Set’s approach, and there’s an implication of disappointment in his expression too. He thought he would do better than this! The grip on his suitcase tightens and his thumb slides over the button to release it, but he holds back. The viciousness of his response in the tunnels had been a response more of trauma than anything else, but he's clearly more in control tonight. ]
…You know, I’m getting the impression that this was a bit of a rigged game.
[ That control is most evident by his coy little quip as Set slides into place behind him. Set had seen the brute force that Hugo can wield, but his cleverness is his better weapon.
…Not that he knows how to use it at the moment, exactly, but he’s working on that. When dealing with an unknown, the best course of action is to get them talking as much as possible. ]
If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways to have asked~.
Well, [ Set replies, flippant: ] You were competing with the god of war.
[ Their violent introduction in the tunnels aside, Set has not properly introduced himself to Hugo. While he does not hide his presence from the other Augmented, his interests dwell in strength of arm and subtle machinations. Science is of interest, because of what it can enhance. Public works, however, to enhance the lives of the Karterians? Boring, insipid. The Augmented are in a no-win scenario: act out or defend themselves, and they're viewed as beasts in need of controlling; assist the Karterians dutifully, gain a little inroads into positive association, and some of those same Karterians still use the Calling upon them.
Mostly, preparing a field upon which the Augmented can genuinely resist is of interest to him.
As he slips in behind Hugo to catch him, with a tap of his fingers upon the man's shoulder, he's just as quick to step in alongside where the Spectral has drifted into the shadows. The faint scent of medicinal herbs radiates from him, the lush lotuses that blossom under the glassy surface of his skin are coiled tightly for the evening, but by the brilliance of his eyes ( the red of them, pupils thinning as he focuses on something in the distance, only to blow wide to better enhance his vision in the darkness — ) he isn't any weaker. ]
Leave your Syntrofos here. [ He's already tossing his aside, careless. It clatters and slides into the shadows of the building Hugo had been hidden in. As he reaches out, it's with slow, deliberate speed as he flicks aside some of Hugo's blonde hair from his face — marveling, openly, at the intensity of his gaze. The strangeness of his abilities. Spectral were truly powerhouses. ] We're going to play tag for an hour. Weapons free, all abilities permitted. You're it!
[ Hopefully, Hugo was expecting that. He still has to deal with Set leaning his body's weight backwards, and toppling right off the edge of the building. ]
[ Hugo’s eyes widen at the revelation, but it’s not because he doubts it. He’s already met Ereshkigal, so the fact that Patho-Gen seems to be able to grab gods as well isn’t news to him. However, he does wonder about the sorts of gods that they seem to grab and that he’s seemingly drawn to. He’s already fond of Ereshkigal, goddess of death, so meeting a god of war…?
Hugo may not be religious man, but he does believe in fate, at least somewhat. So, meeting these two gods feels significant. Imprinting with them both moreso. Is that a reflection of him, he wonders?
It’s a personal thought he’ll have time to mull over later. Naturally, a god of war doesn’t leave much room for hesitation. ]
[ He asks it with humor and an easy, charming warmth in his voice. It’s a decidedly different side of Hugo than in the tunnels, since the charisma in his flirtation seems to come naturally to him. But there’s mischief too, since he reaches towards his jacket pocket to obediently pull out his Syntrofos. He can guess where this is going, and it’s almost nostalgic right away.
…Down to how Set reaches out to brush hair from his face, actually. That makes Hugo huff out a laugh as he tosses his device down too. At least Set isn’t a Carnivora, otherwise he’d truly be wondering about fate (and his own personal taste). ]
[ So, once it’s a game of tag, Hugo knows this intimately. It’s just also one he’d usually reversed, since he was always the most skilled at escapes and how they trained for them. It gives him some confidence that he’ll at least do well. ]
Sure. Let's dance~.
[ That’s his only comment in response, since even Set tossing himself backwards isn’t too surprising. That’s the sort of thing that Hugo personally does, though it was usually in the Hollows where a rift could be counted on as a softer landing. He’s certainly glad he’d secured his scythe for the sake of acrobatics now. He peers over the edge to see what direction Set heads in, but that’s all it takes for him to pursue.
He stays along the edge of the rooftops to keep an eye on Set, but once a lower rooftop across the street presents a quicker route, he leaps across elegantly… And seems to disappear into the darker shadows too. If all abilities are permitted, well. He might as well use them, right? The night is his natural cloak, and he thinks he’ll have to count on some surprise to actually catch this wily god. ]
[ And what a chase it is. Set gives him more of a chase than he’d ever gotten from Jack or Lycaon, but that’s no surprise, right? He’s up against a god, so if any of the stories from the old civilization have a grain of truth, this would be the greatest challenge possible. It’s what Hugo quickly realizes in his pursuit, because even as he pushes himself, Set always feels like he’s one step ahead. He’s faster. Stronger. Everything that Hugo is hoping to be so that he never finds himself facing a life or death situation purely by chance.
So, it’s to Hugo’s credit that he at least manages to catch Set once. It’s half his own cleverness and half pure luck that he was able to combine predicting Set’s path with his own abilities to stay stealthy. It’s delightfully frustrating just how quickly Set manages to tag him back, then. Even trying his hardest, there are simply people here that exceed his abilities.
—What a thrill that is. ]
…Well, I have to admit defeat here. You’ve won.
[ The hour ends with Set the victor, but Hugo making an impressive showing for being (essentially) only human. A random rooftop is where it ends, and Hugo laughs as he catches breath he doesn’t really need anymore. He hasn’t even broken a sweat, if only because he’s no longer capable. But, the thing is… This is the most fun he’s had since he’s gotten here. This is certainly when he’s felt the most alive again.
He straightens from bracing himself to take those unnecessary breaths and runs a hand through his hair, but he looks at Set while he does it. He’s trying to gauge the reaction here, whether he’s the only one feeling something at the moment… And perhaps it’s too bold of a thing to ask a god, but when has he ever cared about authority?
So, there’s little preamble. It’s just an easy, straightforward question as he steps closer. Even with the lightest of a flush on his face, it’s hard to tell whether that’s from exertion or the tension of posing this question. He asks fearlessly, even so, not knowing that simply asking will be significant. ]
[ An impressive showing it is, in Set's eyes. Wherever Hugo lacks, it's not in determination; someone possessed of passion and conviction could never truly lack, not in the god's eyes, for all else would follow to the extent of his ability with training, focus and attention paid to him. Others might have grown frustrated, presented not only with a god's divine power — his fluid, malleable sands and extensive tactical experience — but also, his capacity for sheer ruthlessness in never giving an inch that Hugo didn't take.
To be caught the one time sends a thrill through him, a brilliant ache that lightens his spirit and makes him laugh when he feels Hugo's hand upon him. A brief span of time, where he becomes the prey and the other man a predator ( don't unpack it, the imbalance between enjoying being caught, and never wanting a hand laid upon him again — ). Of course he changes gears there, no longer the darting arrow or wind-swept ribbon of scarlet, but the hawk flashing talon and beak that took Hugo mid-jump and rolled with him: thighs strong around his hips, hands grappling the front of his coat as he'd laughed and laughed and tumbled them across a rooftop. Bounced him off in the end and kept running in another direction.
They're done in an hour, Hugo winded and Set buoyant with the experience. The darkness around them tempers his own energy levels, unable to pull in the light of the sun to offset the cost of using his divinity, of running and darting and playing. He breathes a little restlessly, deep and dragging breaths as he paces to cool himself down — the heat in his legs, the ache in his hands. The lingering tension in his belly, that he thinks he can do nothing about until Hugo captures a breath and expends it in question.
Set stills. His fingers half-flexed to work out the soreness from hauling himself up onto sills, digging his claws into walls to take a corner fast enough to tease Hugo with the trailing ends of hair or branch. His claws slip out from the root of the nail, reflexive as he processes. Concludes. Crosses the meager space between them and dips his head below Hugo's gaze, his spine following the upward arc a heron's lithe neck might make as it dips and rises with prey captured in its beak, as he curves into the Spectral's space and captures his mouth in answer.
[ Asking at all is something impulsive. He knows that, and he’d accept a “no” or even balking at the question in the first place easily. For most, it would be a strange thing to ask now, but there’s a type of person that gets it. The thrill of a chase is intoxicating whether you’re the one doing the chasing or being pursued. He’d felt it most in that moment where Set had caught and pinned him so quickly. If not for the terms of their game, he probably would have asked it then. He’s glad he didn’t, because he’s sure it would have been breathless and inelegant. ]
If not, then…
[ He starts to respond smoothly as Set takes his moment to consider it, since it’s just enough that he worries about being rude. The statement trails off with a slight smile as Set approaches, though. He hadn’t been wrong about that spark after all.
It’s no surprise that Set is the one to take that first move, considering the trial that he’d set out, and Hugo’s response to the challenge is no less enthusiastic. As soon as their lips meet, Hugo leans into the kiss greedily. Where he’s possessed of an unnatural chill, Set feels warm in a way that he feels like he longs for now. Maybe that’s just as much where the impulse came from, he realizes.
Faintly, and much to his annoyance, he thinks Takasugi was right. The imprint does enhance things like this. It feels invigorating, and that’s enough for him to reach up and thread his gloved hand into Set’s delicate, leafy hair. He’s still careful, ever a gentleman in how he styles himself, but it’s still a hungry, bold gesture as he pulls Set closer like one of them might devour the other. ]
[ There is, perhaps, a natural affinity that Set has for Spectral-types. A rare and precious vision of their existence, inspired within him due to his own deep, natural association with death; the god of war's blade that carves through the lives of the opposition is, at its heart, a tool of death. And are Spectral not, in their way, avatars of death and vengeance and stewards of their fellow Augmented? The most naturally resistant to Katalyth. The most innately useless for Karterian ambition; for in the way that animal-type Augmented would make pets and tools, and Terra and Golem generate natural resources, what do Spectral offer?
He finds them fascinating. His favorites are all Spectral, after all: Silco, Brickston, Liem and now Hugo. Undead little beasts, spiteful and vengeful and maddened. The natural balance and consequence of unchecked greed. ( He covets them, in his own way. Wishes he had been of them, rather than what he is; but, he is pleased and proud of his own Natural Soul. While it is at odds with his divinity, he is powerful and eternal and himself all the same. ) That quality of rapturous delight bleeds through into his kiss, little hesitance to be found in the way he parts his full mouth against Hugo's and puts teeth to his bottom lip to drag it into his mouth. A soft threat, that he could bite through it and instead chooses to suckle and tongue his way into the other man's mouth.
His hands find Hugo's trim waist, dragging him in without mercy; hauling him close, trying to bend him backwards — a clawing gesture, hungry and exacerbated by the chase. Like he's a predator that's captured his prey, and seeks to devour it whole. Vines and tendrils and branches strain towards Hugo, perhaps chasing the bright gleam of his golden hair as if it were the sun. They twine around his fingers where they've slipped into Set's red hair, while he breaks only to whisper through bared teeth: ] I feel you within. That connection they speak of, I wonder if it will save us all — or become a shackle that drags us all down with one another.
[ Whatever end the Augmented reach, it will not be for lack of fighting back. Or finding what they need in one another.
Without urgency, though his hands are strong and unquestioning, he reaches for the buttons of Hugo's shirt — pausing, only to lean his spine backwards far enough to peer down at them. The crease between his strong brow and claws brought to bear against one delicate button an obvious statement: if he cannot figure out how to get those buttons undone now, he's just going to rip them apart and be damned with the whole thing. ]
[ That bite on his lip only draws out a telling smile, because he enjoys that little spark of pain (and doesn’t see it as a threat, besides, because Set’s actual thought is too insane for him to even consider). He pursues the deeper kiss that follows without any hesitation. It feels like the natural expression of a well-fought chase, and he’s hungry for it.
So is Set, clearly, because Hugo gasps as he’s pulled in. His spine curves back as it feels like Set is truly bearing down on him. The twist of plants towards him may be new, but this feeling isn’t. It’s the intensity of instinct that Hugo had always enjoyed with Thiren. It’s possessive and predatory, and of course that’s addictive for someone as starved for affection as Hugo. Even that dark thought that Set murmurs just makes him hum out a laugh, a breathy little— ]
Both?
[ …It’s not actually something he wants to think about. These Imprints bother him more than they probably should. At least there’s immediately something else to focus on. ]
Ha— There’s no need to tear it off me, you brute.
[ He laughs it out against Set’s lips, and even “brute” sounds more like a term of endearment than a criticism. Honestly, if he weren’t trying to save money for his gallery, he’d just let Set rip it apart. He’s always been into that kind of rough play, but. Shirts aren’t exactly cheap here, especially not at the quality he prefers.
He reaches up one-handed to the top button of his shirt, though as his fingers settle there, he pauses briefly. It’s a moment’s hesitation, because there’s a reason that Hugo has dressed in a conservative, Karterian style besides it matching his own personal taste. The most anyone has seen of him has been a forearm, because the stronger markers of his corruption can all be hidden away underneath his clothes. He feels as self-conscious about this now as he had as a young man fooling around.
But it’s only a moment. He deftly starts to unbutton his shirt, but he dives back into the kiss with vigor as he does it. It’s a distraction for him more than it is for Set, even if he feels his face burn with a flush that doesn’t even make sense. His hand in Set’s hair tightens to pull him closer. Maybe he doesn’t want him to look. Maybe he just wants to savor this because he couldn’t blame anyone if they recoiled away.
As he takes off his shirt, it shows more and more of his incorporeal skin and the uncanny bone underneath, but it’s far more than that. Threads of black entwine around his bones not unlike the vines that Set is wrapping him in, all radiating from a central point. There are no organs left inside him, but a lightly pulsating crystal grows inside his ribcage roughly where his heart would have sat. ]
[ The movement of Hugo's hands between them draws his attention, while those beautiful, tapered fingers begin to work on the buttons of the shirt Set wishes to have off of him now — in contrast, Set's attire varies between the traditional fashion of his homeland ( which titillates and shocks the stuffy Karterians ), and whatever he mimics with his sands, forming pieces he spots on the bodies of other or in storefronts. The money he earns goes into the militia, devoted as he is to their growth as he is to earning their loyalty, on behalf of all Augmented.
Hugo's mouth on his pulls his gaze away from the expanse of skin — un-skin, not-skin, Spectral skin — steadily exposed to the air atop their distant rooftop. The act seems to irritate him, as he digs his tongue into Hugo's own, coiled and warm and wet and almost angry as his hands dip between them and push at Hugo's hips. At his belly, to put a measure of distance between them. The motion culminates in a sharp, quick bite to the the man's lower lip before pushing him back: not to reject him, but to rake his eyes over his exposed torso in long, purposeful patterns. Shoulder to shoulder, collarbone to rib, rib to rib, rib to heart: the throbbing, colorful crystal exposed like candy, like something vulnerable and easy to target.
Impulsive, he pushes his fingertips over the space where the crystal sits. Translucent skin stops him, blocks him from taking hold of the pretty thing inside of Hugo, and that seems to irritate the god as well. He looks up from underneath full, red lashes and hair and vines that scatter around his face like a curtain, wild and perfectly eager when he states: ] — do not keep from me that which I wish to have. You are lovely.
[ Of course, he can say it. If there would be anyone who could find the state of Hugo's body ( of all Augmented bodies ) intoxicating and glorious, could it not be the embodiment of the infinite, red desert? With a body that changes as his does? That can be identified simultaneously as man and beast and natural phenomena without differentiating between one or the other?
One hand slips into the back of Hugo's hair, palm cradling his skull as he sinks his fingers ( nails scratching, errant and sharp ) into blonde locks and tugs him softly back. Mouth lowering to find his bare throat, the line of his collarbone and the space where his strange, crystalline heart radiates soft light that plays off the angles of Set's own face as he puts his mouth over him and kisses him there, open mouthed and hungry. The other hand cups his Spectral companion through the front of his pants, faltering not even a little. ]
[ At first, Hugo thinks that aggressive response is just Set responding in kind. As he hungrily seeks Set’s tongue like he might draw all of the warmth out of him for himself, he smiles. Even something angry is fine with him, because to be fair, it’s not like he has to worry about the mess of blood anymore. It’s only when Set pushes away that he realizes that isn’t it. Their lips part messily with the bite, and Hugo gasps out a confused little sound of pain. ]
Ah… If it’s—
[ Hugo starts to speak too, because he misinterprets why Set looks over his torso. His tone is delicate and acquiescing, because he has his own cynical, self-loathing assumption. The Augmented may all be “monsters” of a sort, but all the rest, they were at least alive, weren’t they? His new body was some kind of cruel memento mori, so he could hardly blame anyone if they balked at fooling around with what he personally saw as a corpse.
So, Set’s words are more startling and striking than the bite. He’d already been thinking of a way to elegantly disengage and preserve his dignity, and yet. He probably loses it after all, because his wide-eyed stare and brief stammer is as touched and hopeful as when he was a younger man. That impossible flush on his face intensifies, and it’s brightest at the very tips of his long ears. ]
[ That enchanted look doesn’t last, because he’s not a younger man anymore. Even if those words strike right into his sensitive yearning, he still laughs as Set embraces him again. It’s more relaxed, though, enough so that he’s less shy as he tilts his head up to bare his neck to Set and rest some of the weight of his head into his hand. ]
And here I was, joking about that love at first sight comment, you know.
[ He’s still a mouthy brat, of course. He especially can’t help it when he feels like he’s been (delightfully!) outmaneuvered in two ways now. He still half-expects there might be something that’s a bridge too far, and Set might withdraw, but it’s at least easier to push down that thought as an eager kiss settles over his crystalline heart.
…The hand palming his mostly hard dick helps too, admittedly. A chase really does get him going. He gasps out a little sound of pleasure at the contact, lowering his head just a little without impeding Set’s kisses. ]
Just be careful. It’s sensitive.
[ Does he mean…? No, actually. He doesn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to trust Set with this when he’d forcibly bitten into Hugo’s bones before, but he still does. The barrier of his ethereal skin softens, and though it’s still very much visible, Set will be able to sink through it now to touch the bone and crystal underneath. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@ mockingbird (heyyyy)
I'd like to propose a trade, of sorts.
I'll allow you to examine my weaponry, though I will insist that if you'd like for it to be disassembled in any way, you allow me to do so.
In exchange, I'd like to train with you, for lack of a better word. Our meeting has highlighted my deficiencies when it comes to being properly prepared for the variety of fights I can encounter... And I certainly got the impression that you wouldn't go easy on me, which is what I'd prefer.
@SET 1/?
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ok done
Nevertheless, I accept.
My expectations are high for you, because you have a clever weapon that requires an adaptive mind to properly utilize. That means you fight with your head, not solely your strength of arm, and THAT means we will be working much, much harder to increase your tactical flexibility. You will not enjoy this at all! It will be wonderful!
[ hugo why did you do this to yourself ]
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To be clear, I would rather it wasn't senseless. I'm honestly not sure how the healing process works for me anymore, since it seems like your bite marks are here to stay.
[ Yet another reason to use the glamor all the time. When he sees those, he just feels Tired. ]
But that aside, I'm perfectly serious, even so. I'm asking you to do this because I assumed you'd have high expectations. I want to be well-trained, not handled lightly. If you take sadistic pleasure from it, so be it, I suppose.
no subject
What you say is music to my ears. I am a taskmaster, but have a reputation for being undefeated.
I will train you. You will not only learn how to adapt, assess, outmaneuver and dominate any field. I would not be keen on accepting you, if I did not think you had a mind fit for this — it is not strictly "strength of arm" you will learn. My greatest strength is my mind, after all.
[ In Greek terms, he's the bloodthirst of Ares and the wisdom of Hera in one. ]
We will begin immediately. Your first task is to find me before I find you.
no subject
Find you? To be clear, as in right now?
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no subject
Even so, Hugo is a skilled professional, though this game doesn’t quite play to his strengths. Finding (and taking) things is what he’s best at, but that’s a process with meticulous care. This task is much more like his early days learning from Jack, so he treats it as such.
He grabs his suitcase-scythe, but quickly adds the additional strap so that he can wear it at his side instead. He might need his hands to navigate, after all, since once he slips out his window and onto the fire escape, he heads up to the roof. He has no idea where Set even lives, so he won’t be going on a wild chase and hoping for the best. Instead, he leaps deftly from rooftop to rooftop with a few parkour tricks to make it to the highest vantage point he can manage with a good view of the main streets.
…Granted, Set might be the sort of maniac to do the same sort of thing he is, but. In that case, all the better to have a good view and a wide space to fight, right? ]
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The city's layout is taller than it is wider, a sprawling metropolis that has enraptured him from the beginning; what a grand use of space, building to higher and higher heights!
He's the one who goes on the move, to find Hugo. Letting his nose lead him toward elements of Hugo's scent that he has captured as memory now, he doesn't waste time. Stalking and ambushing are part of his forte, and eventually his and Hugo's dance leads them to one another — with Set mounting the rooftop behind him, coming over the edge like some horror that crawls over the edge of the bed late at night. Hoping to slip in behind him, leaning over his shoulder to murmur: ] Now that I have found you — how would you get away from me?
no subject
As Set sneaks up, it at least gives a brief glimpse to show that Hugo is no slouch when it comes to the basics of his task, but he’s outmatched by Set’s unusual skills and vast experience. He’s found shadows of the building to blend into, and the effect is even more pronounced now that he’s a Spectral. If you weren’t looking for him, you wouldn’t see him. In fact, from Set’s point of view behind him, what sticks out most is his golden hair.
Attentive as he is at the moment, he’s not caught completely unaware as Set finds him. Just, you know. Mostly. He turns his head in sharp surprise as he hears the rustle of Set’s approach, and there’s an implication of disappointment in his expression too. He thought he would do better than this! The grip on his suitcase tightens and his thumb slides over the button to release it, but he holds back. The viciousness of his response in the tunnels had been a response more of trauma than anything else, but he's clearly more in control tonight. ]
…You know, I’m getting the impression that this was a bit of a rigged game.
[ That control is most evident by his coy little quip as Set slides into place behind him. Set had seen the brute force that Hugo can wield, but his cleverness is his better weapon.
…Not that he knows how to use it at the moment, exactly, but he’s working on that. When dealing with an unknown, the best course of action is to get them talking as much as possible. ]
If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways to have asked~.
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[ Their violent introduction in the tunnels aside, Set has not properly introduced himself to Hugo. While he does not hide his presence from the other Augmented, his interests dwell in strength of arm and subtle machinations. Science is of interest, because of what it can enhance. Public works, however, to enhance the lives of the Karterians? Boring, insipid. The Augmented are in a no-win scenario: act out or defend themselves, and they're viewed as beasts in need of controlling; assist the Karterians dutifully, gain a little inroads into positive association, and some of those same Karterians still use the Calling upon them.
Mostly, preparing a field upon which the Augmented can genuinely resist is of interest to him.
As he slips in behind Hugo to catch him, with a tap of his fingers upon the man's shoulder, he's just as quick to step in alongside where the Spectral has drifted into the shadows. The faint scent of medicinal herbs radiates from him, the lush lotuses that blossom under the glassy surface of his skin are coiled tightly for the evening, but by the brilliance of his eyes ( the red of them, pupils thinning as he focuses on something in the distance, only to blow wide to better enhance his vision in the darkness — ) he isn't any weaker. ]
Leave your Syntrofos here. [ He's already tossing his aside, careless. It clatters and slides into the shadows of the building Hugo had been hidden in. As he reaches out, it's with slow, deliberate speed as he flicks aside some of Hugo's blonde hair from his face — marveling, openly, at the intensity of his gaze. The strangeness of his abilities. Spectral were truly powerhouses. ] We're going to play tag for an hour. Weapons free, all abilities permitted. You're it!
[ Hopefully, Hugo was expecting that. He still has to deal with Set leaning his body's weight backwards, and toppling right off the edge of the building. ]
1/2
Hugo may not be religious man, but he does believe in fate, at least somewhat. So, meeting these two gods feels significant. Imprinting with them both moreso. Is that a reflection of him, he wonders?
It’s a personal thought he’ll have time to mull over later. Naturally, a god of war doesn’t leave much room for hesitation. ]
Does that make this some kind of divine trial?
[ He asks it with humor and an easy, charming warmth in his voice. It’s a decidedly different side of Hugo than in the tunnels, since the charisma in his flirtation seems to come naturally to him. But there’s mischief too, since he reaches towards his jacket pocket to obediently pull out his Syntrofos. He can guess where this is going, and it’s almost nostalgic right away.
…Down to how Set reaches out to brush hair from his face, actually. That makes Hugo huff out a laugh as he tosses his device down too. At least Set isn’t a Carnivora, otherwise he’d truly be wondering about fate (and his own personal taste). ]
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Sure. Let's dance~.
[ That’s his only comment in response, since even Set tossing himself backwards isn’t too surprising. That’s the sort of thing that Hugo personally does, though it was usually in the Hollows where a rift could be counted on as a softer landing. He’s certainly glad he’d secured his scythe for the sake of acrobatics now. He peers over the edge to see what direction Set heads in, but that’s all it takes for him to pursue.
He stays along the edge of the rooftops to keep an eye on Set, but once a lower rooftop across the street presents a quicker route, he leaps across elegantly… And seems to disappear into the darker shadows too. If all abilities are permitted, well. He might as well use them, right? The night is his natural cloak, and he thinks he’ll have to count on some surprise to actually catch this wily god. ]
/3 actually
So, it’s to Hugo’s credit that he at least manages to catch Set once. It’s half his own cleverness and half pure luck that he was able to combine predicting Set’s path with his own abilities to stay stealthy. It’s delightfully frustrating just how quickly Set manages to tag him back, then. Even trying his hardest, there are simply people here that exceed his abilities.
—What a thrill that is. ]
…Well, I have to admit defeat here. You’ve won.
[ The hour ends with Set the victor, but Hugo making an impressive showing for being (essentially) only human. A random rooftop is where it ends, and Hugo laughs as he catches breath he doesn’t really need anymore. He hasn’t even broken a sweat, if only because he’s no longer capable. But, the thing is… This is the most fun he’s had since he’s gotten here. This is certainly when he’s felt the most alive again.
He straightens from bracing himself to take those unnecessary breaths and runs a hand through his hair, but he looks at Set while he does it. He’s trying to gauge the reaction here, whether he’s the only one feeling something at the moment… And perhaps it’s too bold of a thing to ask a god, but when has he ever cared about authority?
So, there’s little preamble. It’s just an easy, straightforward question as he steps closer. Even with the lightest of a flush on his face, it’s hard to tell whether that’s from exertion or the tension of posing this question. He asks fearlessly, even so, not knowing that simply asking will be significant. ]
May I kiss you?
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To be caught the one time sends a thrill through him, a brilliant ache that lightens his spirit and makes him laugh when he feels Hugo's hand upon him. A brief span of time, where he becomes the prey and the other man a predator ( don't unpack it, the imbalance between enjoying being caught, and never wanting a hand laid upon him again — ). Of course he changes gears there, no longer the darting arrow or wind-swept ribbon of scarlet, but the hawk flashing talon and beak that took Hugo mid-jump and rolled with him: thighs strong around his hips, hands grappling the front of his coat as he'd laughed and laughed and tumbled them across a rooftop. Bounced him off in the end and kept running in another direction.
They're done in an hour, Hugo winded and Set buoyant with the experience. The darkness around them tempers his own energy levels, unable to pull in the light of the sun to offset the cost of using his divinity, of running and darting and playing. He breathes a little restlessly, deep and dragging breaths as he paces to cool himself down — the heat in his legs, the ache in his hands. The lingering tension in his belly, that he thinks he can do nothing about until Hugo captures a breath and expends it in question.
Set stills. His fingers half-flexed to work out the soreness from hauling himself up onto sills, digging his claws into walls to take a corner fast enough to tease Hugo with the trailing ends of hair or branch. His claws slip out from the root of the nail, reflexive as he processes. Concludes. Crosses the meager space between them and dips his head below Hugo's gaze, his spine following the upward arc a heron's lithe neck might make as it dips and rises with prey captured in its beak, as he curves into the Spectral's space and captures his mouth in answer.
( Tag. ) ]
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If not, then…
[ He starts to respond smoothly as Set takes his moment to consider it, since it’s just enough that he worries about being rude. The statement trails off with a slight smile as Set approaches, though. He hadn’t been wrong about that spark after all.
It’s no surprise that Set is the one to take that first move, considering the trial that he’d set out, and Hugo’s response to the challenge is no less enthusiastic. As soon as their lips meet, Hugo leans into the kiss greedily. Where he’s possessed of an unnatural chill, Set feels warm in a way that he feels like he longs for now. Maybe that’s just as much where the impulse came from, he realizes.
Faintly, and much to his annoyance, he thinks Takasugi was right. The imprint does enhance things like this. It feels invigorating, and that’s enough for him to reach up and thread his gloved hand into Set’s delicate, leafy hair. He’s still careful, ever a gentleman in how he styles himself, but it’s still a hungry, bold gesture as he pulls Set closer like one of them might devour the other. ]
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He finds them fascinating. His favorites are all Spectral, after all: Silco, Brickston, Liem and now Hugo. Undead little beasts, spiteful and vengeful and maddened. The natural balance and consequence of unchecked greed. ( He covets them, in his own way. Wishes he had been of them, rather than what he is; but, he is pleased and proud of his own Natural Soul. While it is at odds with his divinity, he is powerful and eternal and himself all the same. ) That quality of rapturous delight bleeds through into his kiss, little hesitance to be found in the way he parts his full mouth against Hugo's and puts teeth to his bottom lip to drag it into his mouth. A soft threat, that he could bite through it and instead chooses to suckle and tongue his way into the other man's mouth.
His hands find Hugo's trim waist, dragging him in without mercy; hauling him close, trying to bend him backwards — a clawing gesture, hungry and exacerbated by the chase. Like he's a predator that's captured his prey, and seeks to devour it whole. Vines and tendrils and branches strain towards Hugo, perhaps chasing the bright gleam of his golden hair as if it were the sun. They twine around his fingers where they've slipped into Set's red hair, while he breaks only to whisper through bared teeth: ] I feel you within. That connection they speak of, I wonder if it will save us all — or become a shackle that drags us all down with one another.
[ Whatever end the Augmented reach, it will not be for lack of fighting back. Or finding what they need in one another.
Without urgency, though his hands are strong and unquestioning, he reaches for the buttons of Hugo's shirt — pausing, only to lean his spine backwards far enough to peer down at them. The crease between his strong brow and claws brought to bear against one delicate button an obvious statement: if he cannot figure out how to get those buttons undone now, he's just going to rip them apart and be damned with the whole thing. ]
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So is Set, clearly, because Hugo gasps as he’s pulled in. His spine curves back as it feels like Set is truly bearing down on him. The twist of plants towards him may be new, but this feeling isn’t. It’s the intensity of instinct that Hugo had always enjoyed with Thiren. It’s possessive and predatory, and of course that’s addictive for someone as starved for affection as Hugo. Even that dark thought that Set murmurs just makes him hum out a laugh, a breathy little— ]
Both?
[ …It’s not actually something he wants to think about. These Imprints bother him more than they probably should. At least there’s immediately something else to focus on. ]
Ha— There’s no need to tear it off me, you brute.
[ He laughs it out against Set’s lips, and even “brute” sounds more like a term of endearment than a criticism. Honestly, if he weren’t trying to save money for his gallery, he’d just let Set rip it apart. He’s always been into that kind of rough play, but. Shirts aren’t exactly cheap here, especially not at the quality he prefers.
He reaches up one-handed to the top button of his shirt, though as his fingers settle there, he pauses briefly. It’s a moment’s hesitation, because there’s a reason that Hugo has dressed in a conservative, Karterian style besides it matching his own personal taste. The most anyone has seen of him has been a forearm, because the stronger markers of his corruption can all be hidden away underneath his clothes. He feels as self-conscious about this now as he had as a young man fooling around.
But it’s only a moment. He deftly starts to unbutton his shirt, but he dives back into the kiss with vigor as he does it. It’s a distraction for him more than it is for Set, even if he feels his face burn with a flush that doesn’t even make sense. His hand in Set’s hair tightens to pull him closer. Maybe he doesn’t want him to look. Maybe he just wants to savor this because he couldn’t blame anyone if they recoiled away.
As he takes off his shirt, it shows more and more of his incorporeal skin and the uncanny bone underneath, but it’s far more than that. Threads of black entwine around his bones not unlike the vines that Set is wrapping him in, all radiating from a central point. There are no organs left inside him, but a lightly pulsating crystal grows inside his ribcage roughly where his heart would have sat. ]
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Hugo's mouth on his pulls his gaze away from the expanse of skin — un-skin, not-skin, Spectral skin — steadily exposed to the air atop their distant rooftop. The act seems to irritate him, as he digs his tongue into Hugo's own, coiled and warm and wet and almost angry as his hands dip between them and push at Hugo's hips. At his belly, to put a measure of distance between them. The motion culminates in a sharp, quick bite to the the man's lower lip before pushing him back: not to reject him, but to rake his eyes over his exposed torso in long, purposeful patterns. Shoulder to shoulder, collarbone to rib, rib to rib, rib to heart: the throbbing, colorful crystal exposed like candy, like something vulnerable and easy to target.
Impulsive, he pushes his fingertips over the space where the crystal sits. Translucent skin stops him, blocks him from taking hold of the pretty thing inside of Hugo, and that seems to irritate the god as well. He looks up from underneath full, red lashes and hair and vines that scatter around his face like a curtain, wild and perfectly eager when he states: ] — do not keep from me that which I wish to have. You are lovely.
[ Of course, he can say it. If there would be anyone who could find the state of Hugo's body ( of all Augmented bodies ) intoxicating and glorious, could it not be the embodiment of the infinite, red desert? With a body that changes as his does? That can be identified simultaneously as man and beast and natural phenomena without differentiating between one or the other?
One hand slips into the back of Hugo's hair, palm cradling his skull as he sinks his fingers ( nails scratching, errant and sharp ) into blonde locks and tugs him softly back. Mouth lowering to find his bare throat, the line of his collarbone and the space where his strange, crystalline heart radiates soft light that plays off the angles of Set's own face as he puts his mouth over him and kisses him there, open mouthed and hungry. The other hand cups his Spectral companion through the front of his pants, faltering not even a little. ]
i had to upload another icon for this one (1/2)
Ah… If it’s—
[ Hugo starts to speak too, because he misinterprets why Set looks over his torso. His tone is delicate and acquiescing, because he has his own cynical, self-loathing assumption. The Augmented may all be “monsters” of a sort, but all the rest, they were at least alive, weren’t they? His new body was some kind of cruel memento mori, so he could hardly blame anyone if they balked at fooling around with what he personally saw as a corpse.
So, Set’s words are more startling and striking than the bite. He’d already been thinking of a way to elegantly disengage and preserve his dignity, and yet. He probably loses it after all, because his wide-eyed stare and brief stammer is as touched and hopeful as when he was a younger man. That impossible flush on his face intensifies, and it’s brightest at the very tips of his long ears. ]
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[ That enchanted look doesn’t last, because he’s not a younger man anymore. Even if those words strike right into his sensitive yearning, he still laughs as Set embraces him again. It’s more relaxed, though, enough so that he’s less shy as he tilts his head up to bare his neck to Set and rest some of the weight of his head into his hand. ]
And here I was, joking about that love at first sight comment, you know.
[ He’s still a mouthy brat, of course. He especially can’t help it when he feels like he’s been (delightfully!) outmaneuvered in two ways now. He still half-expects there might be something that’s a bridge too far, and Set might withdraw, but it’s at least easier to push down that thought as an eager kiss settles over his crystalline heart.
…The hand palming his mostly hard dick helps too, admittedly. A chase really does get him going. He gasps out a little sound of pleasure at the contact, lowering his head just a little without impeding Set’s kisses. ]
Just be careful. It’s sensitive.
[ Does he mean…? No, actually. He doesn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to trust Set with this when he’d forcibly bitten into Hugo’s bones before, but he still does. The barrier of his ethereal skin softens, and though it’s still very much visible, Set will be able to sink through it now to touch the bone and crystal underneath. ]