awashrpg | #1D2951

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#1D2951

[ It's his first time posting to the forum and Shiro's hex code is a dark blue, easy on the eyes. ]

Hello! I'm Takashi Shirogane (you can call me Shiro for short), back home I'm the captain of the IGF-Atlas. Some of you may know Keith, he's been around the forums a little more than me, we're both from the same world.

When I got here I noticed that the environment changes around the time those "quests" are completed, always after people have worked together toward a goal ... however weird it may be ... and on a side-note, thank you to whoever had enough influence to turn the harbour so colourful. It looks great.

Anyway, my point is that maybe we could all spend a day getting to know each other. I think it's a good idea for us to stay alert with the trees encroaching on the town but it can't hurt for us to come together and see what outcome an en masse meeting has. Maybe any new friendships formed will affect Chroma in a positive way in the future. In my experience team-bonding exercises can only lead to good things, and I think the community could benefit in the long term from a day spent opening up to each other.

So! I'm not suggesting a wild party, but some food definitely wouldn't go amiss. Would anyone be willing to cook for the town? We could work out some games too, like a competition to draw a town flag or figure out a motto, and music would also be great if we have any musicians with us. Whatever you can think of, feel free to suggest it.

I firmly believe that activities which bring us together can only make us stronger.
I look forward to getting to know more of you.

:)

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I think the scar improves it, really.

[ But Keith can't help but feel ridiculously shy by that generous praise, nuzzling into his eager lips because he likes it. He's searching Shiro out, too, brushing over his scars underneath the shirt. Shiro might be practically brand new under there, but every physical aspect of him still remains the same, hasn't it?

He laughs softly, cheeks warm at the fact that Shiro thinks he's beautiful. And handsome. ]

So you think my superpower is being handsome? Because have you looked into a mirror lately?

...

The Empire mostly doesn't fight with human soldiers. Not anymore. They invented... they're called Magitek Troopers. MTs. They're mechanical, not people, so they can be mass-produced, specially designed for different tasks, controlled from a distance... all without endangering the people of Niflheim. Lucis, Accordo, Tenebrae, nobody had the tech--nobody had the numbers to deal with that. With the MTs, Niflheim just steamrollered all over the rest of the world.

[Prompto can't say any of this while looking at Shiro. He lowers his hands to his lap, one held tightly in the cup of the other, like his white-knuckled fingers are a lifeline.]

The guy who invented them, he couldn't have done it at all without Ardyn's help. Without his ideas about daemons. He said so himself.

[ All his scars are copies of what Honerva documented on his original body, pointless harm caused to the clone to fool himself. Cruel treatment to someone who never needed his arm hacking off just to imitate the body he was grown to mimic. Shiro can't say he ever liked being scarred to begin with but, just like everything else about Kuron, neither of them have had much of a choice. Sometimes he thinks of all the other clones who must have died in the atmosphere when the facility burned up during descent and if he ever woke up in a complete body before it was mutilated. What would that man have thought?

All the weight he's put on has been a matter of survival, regular muscle exchanged for the thickset shape he's had for years now. Being stronger than most aliens wasn't an aesthetic choice. Sometimes he feels so big compared to his weak crumbling emotions, it's almost like lying. The thing is, he can't bear the thought of being out of shape anymore purely because he might need to protect his friends and he can't do that the same size as the guy who piloted that ship to Kerberos. It's all necessity.

Unlike Keith who is naturally gorgeous and lean, corded with strength that isn't built on fear. Shiro runs his hand up the arm of the hand planted under his shirt, kneading Keith's shoulder. ]

I'm glad you like the way I look.

[ God knows, even without the arm business Shiro isn't a blank canvas of beauty. ]

[ Shiro doesn't need to be beautiful to be absolutely magnificent and breathtakingly stunning. Keith knows just how much he's endured, the sheer number of those clones, and what has possibly been done to all of them so as not to arouse suspicions in the clones. He can only barely begin to skim the breadth of the other man's trauma, and he's determined to walk with him for all of it, to process the horrors that had been visited and revisited upon him.

This place here might not be the best place for them, but so far it's a damn sight better than their home at present, giving Shiro time to breathe, to work out what has been consistently shoved to the back of his mind. They might be soldiers, fighters more accustomed to the heat of battle and preparing for upcoming wars, but they're also just humans, and wounds need time to heal.

He looks down at him now, tugging his shirt up so that he can regard the scars the damn witch had given him, anger simmering in the back of his mind. Shiro, of all people, deserves none of this. His fingers track over the lines of his scars, smoothing over ragged tissue of some, and he looks back at him. ]

I love the way you look. But more important is the way you are. You've survived so much, but you're only human. [ He exhales. ] I want you to trust me, too.

I've always trusted you, Keith.

[ He doesn't protest being stared at, hands coming to rest looped around Keith's waist as Shiro lets him explore the scars that identically mimic those he originally gained in the arena. He finds Keith's touch soothing and closes his eyes to better enjoy it, even if the nerves are dead under thicker scars and it feels like being tickled in between them. ]

... You can take the arm off, if you want.

[ What lies under his prosthetic is highly personal but, hell, Ignis already saw it by accident. Keith should be allowed to investigate what's left of Shiro when the illusion of being able-bodied is dropped. He meets Keith's eyes, nodding as if to cement the offer in his own mind. Shrugging too, as it occurs to him Keith may not want to. ]

Or not, it isn't important.

Shiro.

[ He tells him firmly, keeping the shirt shucked up to under his arms as he eyes the prosthetic, then back to his face again -- he knows what it takes for Shiro to ask something like that; he's never out and about without it, and his hand comes to curl over the metal at the edge of it, smoothing over the material. ]

It's important.

[ He continues. ] It's important to me, and to you. You got this far because you're an incredible fighter, and people should know that. This? This just shows you how much you've survived.

[ And it should be a medal of honor. ] Show me how to remove it.

[ Teach him. ]

[ It feels like permission having Keith tell him it matters, that Shiro doesn't need to constantly act as if he isn't bothered by his prosthetic. He doesn't need to be pointlessly strong every second of the day, which is evidently something Keith already knows because how many times has he cradled Shiro at his weakest? He's already seen him at his lowest points. It's a relief.

The Altean arm floats to his side, fingers curling around one of the handles on the roof to secure it, then he uses his other hand to reach around and press his thumb to the indent atop the port. ]

I have to want to take it off ... It responds to my thoughts like the Atlas.

[ The glow on both sockets dims slowly, and he grasps the port as the electromagnetic system powers down, separating from where it adheres to his body. ]

Can you grab the port before it falls off?

[ And into the black ocean below. That would be no fun. ]

[ Oh, this is interesting. Keith carefully comes to brace the port, holding on to it firmly when it releases -- Keith is watching with wonder, full of affection for the man who's showing him the ropes, practically, letting him in because they both know that Shiro's not very good at opening up to people, either.

Well, he's better at it than Keith, but still. He holds him, gently setting it aside -- Kosmo, ever thoughtful, comes to curl protectively around it -- he knows how precious it is to Shiro and Keith both, and he catches the arm, too, before setting his eyes on what is left of it.

The stump of his arm, ripped from him not once, twice, but more than that -- Shiro, forced to be reduced to a plaything but he would never bow, it makes a lump rise in his throat. He reaches out now, fingers lingering inches away from the stump of his shoulder, wanting to touch him but seeking out permission, first. He wants to know that Shiro's comfortable with this. ]

Can I... touch you there?

[ It's odd not to have the top of his arm since he grew so accustomed to it when the galran tech was attached. Now that limb is entirely gone, eaten up by Honerva's corrupted quintessence and turned into a metal weapon, the entire limb surgically removed to leave Shiro entirely armless on his right side. The scars are neat below where the bottom of where his armpit would have been to the shoulder above, the precise work of Earth's surgeons to save as much of him as possible, lines running down where the socket is. It's a little pink from the weight of his prosthetic, light though it is, but that's his fault for running low on balm and oil, either of which he's no longer fussy over using.

His weight tilts without the metal port, so accustomed to having it there, and he curls his remaining hand in the back of Keith's shirt to keep his balance. Kosmo gets a fond look for his good work, too. ]

It's not as hard as it should feel, showing you. [ He couldn't do this with the other Paladins, except maybe Allura. ] Go ahead, it's okay.

[ Keith eases into a smile, his fingers curving over the irritated skin, the pinkness of the socket. He's gentle with him, and makes a note to see if anyone else has oil or balm available and is willing to share. It must not be fun, wearing a heavy thing like that.

He's gripping his waist with his other hand, possessive and pleased -- something about Shiro showing him something this private is intoxicating, and he gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. ]

You know, whenever you're in this boat, you never have to put it on if you don't want to.

[ He offers, not sure if he's overstepping his boundaries of it's insensitive -- all he wants is to put Shiro at ease, to show him that he can treat this as his own home, too, that Keith could be his home, if he ever wants. ]

I'm not used to having one arm, ironically. [ Hideous as the galran one was, he was essentially whole for longer than he hasn't been since. His smile strengthens when he meets Keith's eyes. ] But I might take you up on that offer anyway, just prepare yourself for a mess.

[ Can he kiss his sweet, beautiful boyfriend on the cheek? Yes, he can. ]

[ Keith's grinning and leaning down, happy to meet him halfway because he's discovered that he quite likes Shiro's kisses, the warmth of his lips on his skin that makes his heart race. ]

You're really gorgeous when you smile.

[ He muses in wonder. ] I mean, not that you aren't already, but.

[ He's gently nudging him now. ] Come on, it's getting dark. Let's go back in.

Flattery? But your seduction technique is already flawless on me, baby.

[ Too distracted with getting up one-armed on the curved roof, he doesn't notice the appelation slipping free so naturally. ]

I'll get the fire going again, shouldn't take long.

[ There it is again, 'baby'. A part of him wonders if that's what he calls Adam, if he loved Adam as much as he loves Keith, but the huge part of him doesn't want to know. He doesn't need to know, right?

He's getting off of him, pulling Shiro's shirt down as Kosmo teleports neatly with Shiro's prosthetic arm and the port, Keith fondly urging him to his feet. ]

So are you gonna cook this evening, too?

[ Keith will never know if he doesn't ask! ]

I wish we could order take-out from somewhere. We've got a pot of noodles that Ignis gave us, if you want those.

[ Cooking is such a pain, why do people like it so much? Keith is followed down into the boat by one whiny captain, or he would be if Shiro could figure out how to balance all his weight on his front and slide inside without dropping like a rock when he overbalances on his face. Help? ]

Keith, could you, um.

[ He's dangling halfway down like an awkward fish on his side, send assistance please. ]

We have noodles from Ignis?

[ Keith straightens, pleased -- it's a treat, all things considered. He's an okay cook, but he did it more to survive than anything else, and Ignis' food is delicious.

Keith's instinctively reaching out and up to grab a hold of him, and he's definitely stronger than he looks because he's urging Shiro down -- ]

All right, I've got you, I've got you. C'mon down, slowly.

They're only instant, but ...

[ Forget that thought, Keith is far stronger than even a regular guy his size should be. Shiro knows because as he wraps his arm around Keith's neck he lets his weight
drop and he doesn't go crashing in a heap, eyes widening as he simply slides down a solid body and ends up staring him in the face, flushed with surprise. Pleasure too, having forgotten exactly how strong Keith is. ]

... Thanks.

[ He doesn't immediately let go, enjoying the position. ]

Good enough. I used to live off of those.

[ Keith tells him casually, warmed when Shiro slides down properly into his arms and he's wrapping his arms around his shoulders now, having slid up from his waist.

He's enjoying this position too, smiling fondly back at him before his hand slides up to cradle the back of his head. ]

Here we go.

[ He's pressing a soft, tart kiss to his chin. ] I'll catch you, every time.

[ Blushing wasn't so bad when he was a brunette, nowadays he looks like a white rabbit with pink cheeks when Keith wraps him up and kisses him on the chin, getting a pout for his trouble. ]

Yeah? What if I want to be carried everywhere?

[ What a brat. ]

Well, you gotta earn that.

[ Keith's smile is wicked, and also he kind of really loves the whole bunny aesthetic, look at him blushing, how cute. He's peeling away from him now, intent on teasing as he gives him a look over his shoulder. ]

Now go start that fire, I'll make us dinner. D'you need to reply to your post?

[ Absolutely bereft when Keith walks away, he clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, trying to remember how to be a decent human being as he sits down in front of the laptop. A quick skim through and he shakes his head, unable to muster a response to simple statements that are just as good left alone. ]

All done. [ The laptop shuts with a click and he joins Keith in the kitchenette, bumping him with a hip as he finds the instant noodles for him. That done, he grabs a handful of dried sticks and sits cross-legged in front of the stove, stoking it to life. ] Hey, how long have you been able to casually toss around grown adults like that? Asking for a friend.

[ The friend is Shiro. ]

[ Out with it, Romeo.

Keith draws close instinctively, even when he's busy preparing the instant noodles, boiling the water first and setting aside two bowls. When Shiro heads for the stove, Keith gives him a crooked little grin.

Okay, so he kind of likes domestic times with Shiro, where they banter like old friends who have come to know so much about each other. ]

Who's this friend?

[ His head tilts toward Keith to lay against his leg as Shiro continues prodding sticks into their crackling fire, the lack of an arm meaning his cheek smushes against a thigh for balance. That's his excuse. ]

His name is Jiro.

[ His M&M Paladin character, said so smoothly he could sound serious. ]

Jiro.

[ He says flatly, looking down at him. Keith wasn't there for the M&M thing, but he's pretty sure he's made-up. ]

So who's this Jiro, then?

He's got this thing for a guy called Pe ... ith. Peith. And so, uh, Peith recently found out he was super strong too and I guess they just need a point of reference.

[ The way he smiles up says he didn't, in fact, just spin the worst bag of lies known to the galaxy. ]

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