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Adstreia / Re: roll need [Lion!]
« Last post by nephero on Today at 03:21:36 AM »
   There was something calming about playing with smoke. It was like lighting incense, the little tendrils coiling in the air in soft curves and flowing waves. Ren took a deep breath of it, let it roll in his mouth and down into his lungs, before releasing the whole torrent up towards the elevator ceiling to collect with the rest of the smoke. Somewhere in the back of Ren’s mind, he wondered why no smoke alarms hadn’t gone off. But the haze that was slowly seeping into his every nerve ending did not let him care enough to worry if this elevator was actually that safe to stow away in.

   And he certainly couldn’t care much about anything when Cabe was so tantalizingly close. Ren’s pulse kicked up another notch, his hearts beating in a wild alternating rhythm the closer the other Pilot got, and it only got worse as Ren’s eyes flicked down to see that the hospital gown had indeed decided to completely abandon its post.

   It might have been that it was nothing Ren hadn’t seen before, but that didn’t mean he was about to let another opportunity pass him by, eyes tracing the hard curves of Cabe's stomach and down to the deep cobalt trail and then further still until they settled between Cabe's bare legs. It served to be exactly the kind of distraction Cabe needed, though, because next thing Ren knew, his joint was gone and Cabe’s mouth was on his own and—

   And it was like being slapped in the face by fireworks. Not literally, because third degree burns were no fun for anyone, but it left behind the same feeling of stunned awe. For a single moment all Ren could do was stare, wide eyed and no doubt flushed pitch, before all thoughts of pacing and propriety and caution was thrown out to sit with the worries about smoke detectors and grumpy ass nurses.

   Ren reached up, settling his hands on either side of Cabe’s face, fingers carding through short, violently blue hair as the elf pulled him even closer and return the kiss with gusto. The smoke between them was hardly flavor of the week, but even that seemed to be fitting in its own way— tangy and bitter and burning, and Ren just couldn’t get enough. He’d always had an addictive personality, but he’d easily trade every last vice he had if it meant he could hold onto this: the soaring, heady high of those typically smirking lips against his own. Again and again they moved, and the elf surged up into every ebb and flow, gasping for short breaths and letting each one out in soft, barely audible involuntary song.

   Eventually Cabe pulled away, and Ren was both too baked and too awestruck to care about the soft, protesting whine he made as a result. Still, while his head felt like a warm haze, while his hearts were still going a mile a minute, and while the thrill in his pulse had decided to settle warmly in his abdomen, Erenys Dei knew a challenge when he heard one.

   And no manner of soul-searing kisses could ever make him back down from a challenge.

   Just going to take that lyin’ down? Oh, no. Erenys Dei never just took anything lying down. Blue eyes snapped open, glowing all the more fiercely against the darkness of his cheeks, and he flashed Cabe a wide, fangy grin before taking hold of the other man’s shoulders and pushing him back onto the elevator floor.

   Not too harshly, of course. It’d be awful to put Cabe right back in the hospital so soon. But it was certainly forceful enough to make sure the other Pilot was the one “lyin’ down”, and was made to stay there by virtue of Ren straddling his bare thighs.

   The thrill in his pulse had reached a fever pitch now, the heat in his abdomen coiling tight and leaving him aching in anticipation, but there was pride at stake here. Ren settled his hands against Cabe’s chest, sharp nails pressing in just enough to get his point across, little white lines erupting against the red ink of Cabe’s tattoos as he went.

   “Bold talk from the only one doing any lying down here,” Ren cooed, sliding his hands back up to rake his nails against Cabe’s scalp and draw him into another kiss, teeth scraping against Cabe’s lip just enough to remind him how sharp they really were.

   It was honestly a miracle in and of itself that Ren could even function this much. He didn’t believe in gods, or anything outside of individual will and sheer luck, but every sparking connection and every firework-laden kiss had him more and more tempted to convert. Ren pulled back, just enough to where their noses were barely touching, and stared down into those green eyes like they were the last things he’d ever get to see. Which, all in all, he'd be okay with.

   “Deal. With. It.” He breathed, before planting another tiny bite to Cabe’s chin.
The Libra / Re: False Sympathy [Neph]
« Last post by nephero on Today at 02:07:39 AM »
   Jak didn’t know where he kept going wrong.

   It wasn’t like he tried to piss Gray off. But no matter what he did he seemed to screw things up. It had been going well, too! Or, at least it had been going well for a little while. It had taken a long time and a lot of fish, but Gray had seemed to be warming up, and then…

   And then Jak didn’t know what. It just seemed to all run hot and cold every other day. One day Gray would be friendly, and then the next day would barely acknowledge him beyond what was needed for work. At first Jakael had chalked it up to stress— between Deacon’s illness and all that, it had been understandable. And Jakael didn’t exactly know any of them well enough to offer anything other than… well. He didn’t know. A stuffed animal fish.

   Gods none, that had been lame. Was that it? Just lame piled on top of lame until Gray just couldn’t stand it? Jak thought of the moments where they almost got on and inwardly cringed. Had Gray just been playing nice? Had they just been trying to make this assignment work? Had all of that finally boiled over to where even playing nice wasn’t an option? Did they just straight up hate him now?

   Zero for two, then. The elf’s shoulders slumped even as he carried on the walkway, hands jammed into his pockets and boots barely making it off the ground. It was really only by virtue of his considerable height that he was making any headway at all. Not that he really had any destination in mind. He’d mentioned getting lunch, but the thought of eating anything at all just left him with an ashy taste in his mouth.

   Maybe just a drink, then. Given, it was barely into the afternoon, but who was counting? He was already an embarrassment to be around, a chore to be attached to, so why not act like it? Jak looked up, trying to place where exactly he’d wandered off to and where the nearest source of alcohol was in relation to that information. Inadvertently, he caught sight of himself in the shop window beside him and made a face at it. Touched his hair and made another face again.

   Well, there was embarrassment number one if he ever saw it. Or so he’d been told. He’d kind of liked it, but so far he’d been the only one. And no matter how much Jakael had tried to be okay with being ‘the only one’, it was hard work. And lonely. And he was just so tired of it.

   Maybe a haircut and then a drink, then. A little something new. It was only a matter of time before Gray walked in to work to serve him a notice of transfer, anyway. Why not just make a whole event of it? New hair (again), new partner (again), go to work (again), get drunk (again), and find someone who could stand to be with him for a couple hours before they ran off  and he was alone(again).

   An hour or so later had Jak leaving the barber’s, touching at the bare nape of his neck and telling himself this was for the best. He’d be fine. He’d always been fine. His one and only in the world hadn’t wanted him, and that was fine. His friends dropped off the face of the station one by one, and that was fine. And his new partner— cute and prickly and a fiend for sushi and mischievous and feisty and so, so funny— Gray would finally have enough and go on their way with someone they could actually bond with and trust and… that was fine.

   Jakael was a good interim jockey. Someone to fill the gap. Jak was good at that. He could be fine with that. He could. He had to.

   He had to. What else could he do?

   Besides get drunk. Right. That was something that definitely needed to happen. Or at least, that had been the plan right up until he turned a corner and bumped full-body into someone much smaller than him. Much, much smaller and much, much fluffier.



   Jak cleared his throat, and moved to help steady the mage before thinking better of it. What if that was one of the things they couldn’t stand about him? He was always the touchy feely sort, what if that had been part of the problem. His fingers twitched, and the jockey found a decent middle ground in pulling his arms to his chest, pretending to brace against the chill air-conditioned ventilation of the station.

   “Shit. Sorry. Hi.” Jak said, lamely, one word after the other and each worse than the last. Hi. Really, Jak? Really? No wonder they couldn’t wait to get rid of him.
Haviah / Re: What Could Have Been But Will Never Be.
« Last post by nephero on Today at 01:07:45 AM »
   The soft touch of lips against Sevan’s throat made his heart skip a few beats. It was a small thing, some inconsequential thing, but the familiarity that went with it was… nice. It made him want to smile, and he certainly wasn’t about to fight that urge any. At least until Iri spoke again.

   Sevan shifted, just enough to be able to look down at the top of Iri’s head, his brows knit at the whispered apology. At first he didn’t understand why Iri was apologizing to him about anything, but then it all started piecing together. The baby. The fact neither of them had planned on the baby. The fact that neither of them would ever get to…

   Sevan shifted with Iri, let him settle against his chest, and slowly moved his hands along the Kulshedra’s back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles.

   “Hey. Hey, look at me. All right? You don’t need to apologize for anything. It’s not your fault— it’s no one’s fault. You didn’t know, and… and it just happened. You didn’t kill anyone.”

   Words were hard. He was trying to find the right things to say, but when there were no right things that could be said, well, that left someone with Sevan’s considerable lack of skill high and dry. Still, he wanted to try. Iri deserved for him to try, and more than anything, Sevan wanted to try for this. And if he was honest, he wanted to try for a lot of things.

   “Well. If you wanted. Maybe we could…” Sevan wasn’t sure if now was the time, or if any time would be the time. But Iri had wanted it, hadn’t he? The thought of it, of them plus one more, well. That certainly made his heart skip more than a few beats. “I’ve never had a family. Not really, grew up a ward of the state and then right into the ATC. I’m kind of out of practice but I like the idea of a family. Kids, I mean.”

   His hands stilled against Iri’s back, and he looked down into the other Pilot’s eyes, red rimmed and still shining bright with unshed tears. Sevan shifted, just enough to run his thumbs over Iri’s cheeks, trying very hard not to let his nerves get the best of him.

   “Maybe we both get different jobs. And maybe we can be a thing. On purpose, I mean. You and me. And anything else that arrives.”
Adstreia / Re: roll need [Lion!]
« Last post by Lion on Today at 12:27:35 AM »
It was very unlikely for Cabal to catch a cold just sitting next to the elf and what with the jacket now covering the cool floor of the elevator, his buns were salvaged. The day was saved, and his heart skipped a beat at the thought that the elf sacrificed his own jacket for the sheer purpose of it. Ren was a real gentleman wasn’t he. And they said chivalry was dead. If Cabal was a sweet noble lady or some shit, this would be the part he’d let that tall dark and handsome elf pop his cherry. As it was, horses hardly fit in elevators and knights didn’t exist, and his cherry was long since popped.

Still, it made him appreciate the gesture no less and it certainly made it easier to get cozied up closer to the elf. Knowing Ren was comfortable enough with him, to let their knees touch and Cabal let the weight of his leg press further against it. The basket was moved and Cabe had tucked the joint into the corner of his mouth, taking a deep long drag of it and letting the smoke billow out of his nose in twisting puffs.

Already the smoke was collecting and the ventilation above them was enough to keep them from suffocating, but not let all the smoke out all at once. His head swam, just a little, and the little flips in his belly made it difficult to not just lean right up against the elf and lay his head on his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if the elation came from the fact that today was his last day, because Rory was scuttling and that goddamn cat was adorable, or because Ren had come out of his way to bring him a gift basket of smokes, or the fact that the same tall pitch black elf had let him sit so close.

In a setting that didn’t involve chalk drawings on the ground or him being depressively mopey about his dead girlfriend. Nobody liked a sorry sourpuss, least of all him. And those kinds of thoughts had no place in this elevator.

Cabe, settled back on the wall, letting his foot touch the barest part of Ren’s jeans and marveling still at the vague size difference. Ren was tall, not built. But he had a nice body to him, Cabe couldn’t lie. Slender and lean, where as Cabe was average height for a male of his kind, athletic and well muscled - not that he bothered with any kind of actual fitness. Not eating for a few days at a time left him a hungry bastard.

And it was too bad there was nowhere in Adstreia he could get decent sushi.

But maybe it wasn’t sushi he was hungry for right now.

Cabal snickered a little, pulling the joint from his lips and letting the smoke billow out between them, shifting so that he was on his hip, supporting himself with one hand between them, and the movement taking the gown from his lap and letting it fall off his thighs.  Ren was snickering, and he let him laugh.

“Not a damn thing huh? Not even this?” Cabal pushed himself onto his knee and reached up, gently coaxing that dwindling smoke away from Ren’s lips, pushing a hand behind the elf’s head and tugging him forward so that Cabal’s lips could lock with his. He kept him there, crushing his lips to those tender dark ones, slipping his tongue inside and tasting along Ren’s, the smoke, the scent, and feeling the sheer rush of heat that had come from blood surging through that long lean body; a thrashing of two hearts to one.

Ren tasted so good and Cabal was hard pressed to put away, but it was the least he could do after he went all this way to bring him such a wonderful gift. And perhaps it was less of a reward for a material object, than it was to show Ren his appreciation for a thoughtful gesture, to know that he was important to someone.

Cabe pulled away and sucked in a sharp breath, supporting himself instead with his hand on the elevator railing behind them, staying a breath away and offering a small smile. “Bold talk from an ex-squad leader of one of the most infamous squads in all of Aedolis. You just gonna take that lyin’ down?”
Open Space / Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night [One Shot]
« Last post by Lion on April 23, 2018, 05:51:54 PM »
Spinning. The world was spinning, and no amount of passing gray and vague green could stay within frame enough stay in memory. There was nothing he could hold onto that image, the spinning of that skiff nor the spinning in his head. Every time the half-crescent marble passed across his vision, his confusion compounded and Grisham’s head only hurt more. The voices were fading away, the echoes familiar and when they were gone, he tried to reach out for them and heard nothing. That vacancy hurt more and more the longer his skull thumped, the little gray and green dot passing by again and again.

Heavy breaths, his heart pounding and for an abrupt hot second he feared the blood in his helmet came from his lungs, if something inside ruptured. If a routine mission had gone wrong because it couldn’t handle the pressure of leaving the atmosphere and guiding a satellite into orbit. An inkling fear that his body had betrayed him and would no longer let him do the job he’d been trained to do day in and day out.

His heart was still pounding and the blaring sirens coming from his flight couch dash made the silence in his head all that much more deafening. Grisham growled, his panting breath coming out in soft puffs as he tried to reach forward. A blink and the small pebbles of tears beaded away from his eyes, his gloved hard slamming hard on the dash to try and silence them. His hand trembled, grunting more to try and get the sirens to stop, flipping gauges and trying to right himself in the seat as his trajectory continued.

“FUUUUCK!” he hissed, his hand slamming again and the small pressure valves erupted from the skiff’s dented and damaged hull to try and counter the force by which he was spinning. The hiss righted the small vessel, the pressure eventually slowing the velocity. Small segments of the hull had been smashed to bits, and there was a crack in the cockpit viewfinder. Grisham’s gray green eyes blinked slowly taking in the damage as the sirens made him see red. Grisham undid the buckles that strapped him to his chair, the lock behind him trying to click into place.

Gloved hands wrapped around where a small object was lodged in between the from and the lock itself. Repeated attempts to connect met with failure and every second he took to dislodge the small piece of metal, the greater the chance of the emergency door ripping open completely. Why it hadn’t yet he didn’t know and he wasn’t going to wonder at. Not now.  With a loud grunt eventually the piece of metal was wrenched out and the lock clicked into place. The hiss of securing itself, made Grisham drift back to his flight seat and strap himself back in.

A few more flipped switches and taking hold of the flightstick and the sirens finally ceased their screams, leaving his head vacant once more.

What the fuck had happened? Did he remember? Where were the others?

”Lock, stock and barrel? Can you read me? Krush? Lizard Skinner.  Am I coming in clear?” he broadcasted out.  And received nothing for his troubles. Nothing but silence.

The throbbing of his temples did nothing to alleviate the struggle for recollection. He had no marbles to reach out to, and he tried first to control his breath. Calm down, Alberich. This isn’t your first courser. And it ain’t no intergalactic cruise ship.  You’re on a skiff in the middle of nowhere. How did you get here?

“Easy does it. We’re closing in on the coordinates now. Don’t rush it, Chatterbox…” That was his voice uttering those commands. Was Matt doing something wrong? No…  No, nothing was going wrong. Everything was in place. The Talon Satellite was up and almost fully operational. The squadron had done what it was trained for - if anything this was a routine mission and he would be back home to message Yavul that he’d made a decision on the bathroom tiling they were discussing.

It was routine…  All they needed to do was enter in the correct diagnostic array and it would be up and running. His job was to get it into orbit. Make sure it worked then he’d be home in time for supper. 

It was routine… Lasagna…yeah that sounded good with a nice glass of ice cold sweet tea. Yavul’s favorite. Maybe a hint of brandy for the old dog since he couldn’t have a drink - his own fault really. Who made bets like that?  Grisham didn’t even want to think of the embarrassment he felt when it at blatantly backfired on him. Boy did the ol’ Yote know how to sweet talk him, and squirm in all the right ways.

He’d be home in no time he told himself. It was routine.

The trajectory of flying debris surrounding the planet he’d called home had come out of nowhere. The mission would be quick, but when the diagnostic array failed to connect, Grisham went forth himself to reposition it. Just a millimeter more, was all it would take the array would connect. That was all it needed. Just a little bit more. Aaaand there.

Grisham slowly used the pressure valves to push him away from the satellite. It was perfect and when he heard confirmation of the lock on, he could head back with the rest. The timing was just within the orbital debris. Or so he’d thought. Suddenly something slammed into him so fast that it caught the tail end of the skiff and sent it into a spin, sending it out and away. The skiff hissed and the glass cracked, and before he could counter the spin or maneuver out of the way and even larger piece of debris crushed the left side of the ship, the force of which slammed Grisham’s head against the inside of his helmet, and everything went black.

Everything came screaming back to him. The sirens, the voices of his squadron. The realization that the gray green dot that he’d seen floating past the cracked window was not earth, but some other rock. That he’d been slammed so far off the star map his own squadron couldn’t even reach him. His comm had been dead.  And the gauges were all ready low or near-empty. He didn’t know where he was, and even if he did, he didn’t have enough fuel to get back.

Grisham Alberich, Pilot Royal and Commander of the Hellions, was a sitting duck in unknown territory, and the quadrants he tried to read on his scanner fizzed out. Did he risk sending out an emergency beacon? Anyone could find him, and if Edanis or Librans found him first, he was already toast. A Pilot Royal would make a mighty prize for anyone and he checked his comm again, smacking it because that was the Solartan way to get anything to work.

Radio Silence…

Grisham’s hand hovered over the distress signal beacon.  He glanced down at the rifle he had in the compartment next to his flight couch. He wasn’t unarmed. If someone wanted to burn him, they weren’t going to take him alive.  A second of hesitation and nothing more, and the power levels were stripped to the barest minimum - no lights, no outgoing calls, even the life support that kept the temperature regulated was to be activated if need be. Grisham activated the beacon and pulled the rifle close.

“Fire fire,” he whispered, staring out into black. “Burning bright.  Like a beacon in the night…”

 ”Look the red dot just north by northwest of Amristah, Coyote Man, that’s where you’ll find me. Don’t worry. I’m going up just for a few. I’ll be back before you know it.” Those were distant words now. But words he repeated nonetheless.

This time he said it aloud and to nothing more than the silence in his helmet. “I’ll be back before you know it, Yavul. You have my word.”
Communication / Mission Directive: "Operation Talon" [Hellions Only]
« Last post by Lion on April 23, 2018, 04:21:54 PM »

0500 hours. Directives: Report to Adstreia Flight Bay For Mission Debreifing
CLEARANCE LEVEL: Hellions Squadron Only

Mission Directive:

Satellite 0089T27A - AKA “Talon” - is to go up into orbit and will be positioned at Coordinates 12.32.158. The satellite’s primary function is observational quadrant ‘tracking and tagging’ for migratory purposes. It is equipped with a high-powered tactical sensory array, frequency mapping, long distance tracing and honing, and fully capable and operational LDUMPs (Long Distance Ultramagnetic Plasmarays). The satellite is not as delicate as seems, but as usual full meticulous discretion is to be expected.

Standard flight procedures remain in place. The task is to meet expected completion before the day’s end. And donuts will not be served at this meeting.  That means bring your own, Pilot Echo Sparrow Anderson.

Good luck Hellions.
Communication / Re: To Pilot Echo Dau, from Pilot Noble Dei
« Last post by GoblinFae on April 23, 2018, 03:26:24 PM »
Don't scare the meese :P And no combusting please. Or if you do please ensure it's self-contained. I would hate for the rest of my place to go up in flames with you.

Sushi it is then! If you manage to reform yourself into some manageable amount of cohesion we could even go out to eat. You've been burrowed up too, long I'm starting to wonder if the bed ate you.

Aww but Ren pumpernickel is my favorite type of bread! How dare you take my right to say pumpernickel away from me. It's a crime against all pumpernickeldom is what it is!

Now that's out of my system I have to get back to work. See you tonight slinky freckle-toast ;)


P.S. while you're out getting sandwich making supplies pick up some more eggs please. I'll make dessert for us this week. ;)
Communication / Re: To Pilot Echo Dau, from Pilot Noble Dei
« Last post by nephero on April 23, 2018, 02:13:11 PM »
I have no gods to scream to and yet here I am, screaming.

You are a maniacal menace and I love you, even if I'm presently attempting the first case of spontaneous elf combustion.

In the event I fail, or in the event I succeed but reform from the ashes like a phoenix, sushi would be amazing. I've not had the appetite for it in so long.

That being said, I will seriously cover your room with open faced sandwiches if I ever hear the term pumpernickel from you again, I mean it. I'm just going to live in the darkest space beneath my bed now, thank you.

See you when you get home.
Communication / Re: To Pilot Echo Dau, from Pilot Noble Dei
« Last post by GoblinFae on April 23, 2018, 01:54:32 PM »
Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!

You're missing out on some sweet, delicious sandwich talk ;)

Chakram: I am actually a ceiling fan. - Today at 3:13 PM
Whispers: A goop fan? - Today at 3:14 PM
Chakram: Of course. Grape jelly flavored. - Today at 3:15 PM
itsame: Holy shit someone get the peanut butter and toast. - Today at 3:15 PM
itsame: Just run through screaming and hope the jelly doesn't end somewhere unsavory.
Chakram: nah see. I make everything savory. - Today at 3:16 PM
itsame: Ooooh, so more of a spicy grape than anything. - Today at 3:18 PM
Chakram: Exactly! I go best with burnt freckly toast. - Today at 3:18 PM
itsame: Do you poke the freckles in or is the bread pre-freckled? These are very important questions, you know. - Today at 3:20 PM
Chakram: You can get it prefreckled. That's the ideal kind. But then if you know how to heat it up just right, the freckles just disappear. - Today at 3:21 PM
itsame: Skills, mate, serious skills. Hahahaha - Today at 3:22 PM
tittytat: my mom used to make me cream cheese and jelly sandwiches... They were so gross. - Today at 3:24 PM
Chakram: Loool. Acquired skills, bro. Acquired over time. Then it becomes the slinkiest toast ever. - Today at 3:24 PM
itsame: Oy, cream cheese and jelly sandwiches are delicious. Mm, that sounds good. Though also now I'm thinking of literal slinky toast all... corkscrew cut and bouncing down the stairs. - Today at 3:25 PM
Whispers: Is it rye/pumpernickel bread too? Because I hear that's the best - Today at 3:26 PM

Somebody liiiikes youuuu~

I wonder whoooo~


Okay more seriously though what are you in the mood for for dinner? We're out of the red curry paste so I was thinking sushi again? Or I could pick up some sandwiches if you would rather that instead ;P

The Libra / Re: Diagnosis [Neph]
« Last post by GoblinFae on April 23, 2018, 12:43:57 AM »
Dashiell hated the way that Nicodemo looked at him. He hated the way those unholy eyes seemed to bore right through him and see into the deepest parts of him that had long since remained in cold shadow. It made his breath catch in his chest once he realized that the first time in what felt like forever, someone was staring unflinchingly eye to eye with him. Nico was not shying away, they were not backing down. Hell their expression was not even one of disgust, fear, or even pity. So many especially in the beginning days had looked at him in such a manner.

But, not Nicodemo, they looked at Dash in a way that the scarred man could only describe as indifferent calculation. It was as if they were sizing him up the same way a commander looked over his army of soldiers. He supposed he should be grateful for it but after so long it just felt unnerving. Not for the first time he felt shame over his appearance. He had never been an incredibly vain man but he had taken pride in having had good genetics. Now he was just damaged goods and with all of the emotional revelations of the day he felt it all even more keenly than usual.

He was snapped from his thoughts at the barked orders that had him once again moving without thought. Dashiell smirked softly though and shook his head. "A soldier through and through. You really like barking orders at people and making them jump, don't you? Can't even wait for their brains to process it all before you're repeating yourself. Bet you get mad at that too," he stated with a smirk, "most officers I've found seem to despite repetition despite how much they all seem to waste their breath on other pompous pursuits. Although you don't seem like the type for trivial and excessive posturing truth be told."

A soft chuckle escaped him as he reached over and plucked a blueberry muffin from the box for himself. Nico had offered him earlier even if he had declined. Dash figured the worst they could do was slap it out of his hands if they really didn't want him to have it. The wrapper was peeled away slowly before he broke off a small piece and ate it. Unintentionally a small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. Ryul really was an amazingly baker.

"Anyway," Dashiell sighed as he swallowed, "while I don't expect anything of you after my apology, least of all your acceptance of it, I... I don't know if they made you aware but I have been put on leave for my actions towards you and others as well as required to do community service.

"I understand however, that does nothing to atone for the things I did to you specifically though. I feel obligated to ask if there is anything you wish of me. I don't expect I could make it up to you. These kind of things are not something that can be swept under a rug and fixed as easily as on the schoolyard playground. But, I do know I want to be an honorable man again one day and this is as good of a place to start as any, if you'll let me that is."
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