AEDOLIS > Margad

A Rose By Any Other Name [Neph!] mmmmm

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Draconian:
Cinnamon was practically vibrating with excitement.

Not an uncommon thing for him to be doing on the rail from Haviah to Margad. He flicked through pictures of Beep and Boop ( who were getting huge ) and read a few articles about celebrity non-sense. Some Pilot rumours. Cinnamon enjoyed the rumours. Most of them were downright silly and he liked to chuckle at them while waiting for the thing to take him to the place he wanted to be. Margad.

The place of his two greatest loves.

Noodles and fresh produce.

Cinnamon already had a meal planned out. Which is where he headed the second the rail was stopped. To get groceries. Not that he didn't think Soba didn't have groceries. Just that he knew what he wanted to make and maybe Soba didn't have it? Easier to just get it now. And make sure there was enough for left overs for the fridge. Cinna chewed on his lip while he shopped, politely stopping for a few pictures and at one point snapping his jaws upon request for a video.

Groceries gotten, he made his way to his Noodle's apartment. Ears perked up and unable to keep his tail under control it was practically waving. It wasn't a planned evening but he had access to Soba's apartment and while he was more than happy to let himself in, sometimes it wasn't the right day for that. This was a sort of surprise dinner. Did he? Didn't he? Cinna risked it. A quick rap at the door with his knuckles and he moved his wrist over the panel. The door unlocked and he let himself in.

No matter what kind of day it was, the apartment always smelled like Soba. A pleased hum.

"Hello?" He said, voice not a yell but not a whisper.

"I've come to make dinner things. If you're home," Cinna made his way to the kitchen, making himself at home. Loading the groceries ( that weren't just dinner things ) into the fridge and getting all the needed cooking utensils ready for when it was close to dinner time. Which was a bit of a ways off. Cinnamon had finished his assignments early, fueled by pure excitement. Even still, in his Noodle's kitchen his tail was waving excitedly. After a few moments of silence he pulled out his com, found Soba's number and started a message.

"If you're not home, I'm in your kitchen. I got things to make dinner but I got here a few hours earlier than I intended so I have some time to spare. Lemme know what's up? If you're not home, I am totally gonna nap in your bed."  Cinna pondered for a moment if he should get naked before the nap but decided against it. He didn't know what colour today was. Not yet. Clothed and bearing food was always a level choice.

Cinna leaned against the counter, head resting on his hand while he waited for the go ahead, tail still swishing back and forth and eyes falling closed because, despite the cigarette smell, the apartment was one of his favourite places to be and he felt comfortable. Home. Eugh. Non-human-ing. Cinnamon decided though, once he got the go-ahead he was absolutely going to crawl into the best bed in the universe to nap.

nephero:
It always felt the same. It wasn't like Soba ever really got any chance to prepare, of course, nothing that made it easy to plan around, but when he could feel an "off color" kind of day formng, at least it had the basic human decency to be obvious about it.

Insofar as a day could be capable of basic human decency. Which not many days could, because a lot of days were big, stupid, assholes like that. Super rude, just busting down doors and throwing their shit every which way, without a single care about how that was going to affect the people in them. Not that Soba's "off color" days were any different-- they still tended to make themselves right at home regardless of his mood to entertain-- but hey, at least he had some kind of warning signs.

Warning signs like right now, when everything was just this side of fuzzy, and somehow in between one blink and another all of his paperwork had been finished. That was the major cue, the loss of time, and Soba sat staring at the clock on his desk for a good while before the steady ticking of the seconds grounded him again. He was still here, wasn't he? This was all here?

Talbot Henning, check. Pilot Noble, check. Sitting at his desk, check. And apparently finishing for the day, check. Soba sat back in his chair, undoing the top button of his uniform to better... he didn't even know. Breathe? Feel less clustered in? Possibly lose all of his outlines and kind of melt out into the universe. That third option sounded really good.

Something rattled in his desk, and he pulled open a drawer to see his com light up, vibrating in sequence to denote an unread message. Soba considered ignoring it for a moment; his head was too foggy to keep up with regular conversation, but the name displayed on the screen was big and red and even cotton-stuffed freeform lineless person like he was, Soba always loved seeing that name.

For completely unknowable reasons, of course. He plucked up the com, opened the message, and while it took him a few moments, he finally got through reading it. Dinner. Dinner sounded... good. Very good. And the idea that Cinnamon, the spice of his life, would be crashing in his bed was even better.

There was just something about that. Everything went hyper bright, crystal clear to the point of insanity, and for a brief second the liminal concept of a semi-permanent fixture to his home, his room let him focus enough to close out his reports and not just be a string of gibberish.

Terminated, Demoted, Exhonerated, Acquitted. Done and done.

He flicked back to the message on his com, and hit reply:

"Doublemint good. Just finishing up here. Probably could sneak in about thirty minutes before the authorities show up." Soba snickered, quietly, not really enjoying how weird the sensation felt while the rest of him couldn't seem to decide where his atoms needed to be. But then again, Cinna was good at that. Getting his atoms to laugh even when they didn't know they were there.

He set the com back into his pocket, took a breath that went nowhere, and left his office for the day. About two steps outside of the building, he was lighting up a cigarette, trying to give the rest of him something to fixate around, because being an amorphous blob was just not fun today. Out in the fresh air (hilarious sentiment though that was), there was far more people, bits and pieces of them humming with memory. A girl's hair lit up like a halo around her head. A young boy clung to a toy spaceship that glowed brighter than any star. Hums and vibrations every other step in the walkway.

Like kids playing hopscotch. One, one, two, two, one. When was the last time he played hopscotch? How long ago had that been? Back when Talbot had been Talbot, probably. If that ever were the case. Because really, even now, even with a present obsession with lemon cake and old-fashioneds, this was still Talbot. Soba. That's what Cinna said. This was still Soba.

Hopefully it wasn't a less-fun Soba. Turning down another walkway, less populated but just as densely covered in foliage, the Inquisitor hopped a few steps forward on one foot just to see if he still could. Hopscotch. Yeah, still got it.

It was... perhaps the wrong thing to do at the time. But then again, there was no telling what would fixate and what wouldn't, and on days like today it was anyone's guess who'd be picked up. Residual chalk on a well-walked side road, all the bright and colorful thoughts of a kid who loved being out in the sunshine, out of the house and in the perfumed air, a kid who--

Shit. Soba stopped hopping, and looked down at the grid at his feet. Shit.

It wasn't a major one, thankfully. The reading was too old, the vector too small and fleeting. But it certainly didn't set any kind of mood, even a "Cinna waiting at home, coconut status unknown" mood. Home. Home was good. Cinna at home was better. Soba straightened up again, leveled out his gait, and went the last of the way to his apartment building. He pushed about three different buttons on the elevator, and then five more after the doors shut, for no other reason than it seemed like fun at the time.

He blinked, and once again found that time had passed him by between then and now, as he was already placing his wrist over the sensor and letting himself inside.

"This is the police! We know you're in here. Usage of butter after sundown is a class B offense." he called out, before remembering Cinna was probably napping. Which would explain why Peebles Destroyer of Worlds wasn't staring balefully at the door for him to return: the purrpurrs were too good for the little black cat to pass up. Soba couldn't blame him.

Soba pulled off his longcoat and hung that up, before slipping into the bedroom, maneuvering Peebles out of the way and taking the cat's spot against Cinna's back, arm curled around the taller Pilot as he spooned up nice and close.

"Gotcha."

Draconian:
Police?

Foggy brained Cinnamon Rook frowned for a moment, ear flicking before he pressed his face into Soba's pillow and inhaling deeply. He didn't move from his place curled up in the bed, the warmth of the kitten at the small of his back. He did turn his head ever so slightly, eye cracking open from his weird dream about having tiny hippo's in his home instead of his beloved cats.  Cinnamon couldn't help the little trill that vibrated through his chest, making Peebles lift his head and look at the pointy scaly ear that poked up from the nest of blankets.

A small smile when Peebles was removed and Soba took his place.

"Hmm," Cinna agreed, smoothing a hand over Soba's hand on his chest, pressed it against him before he gently pulled it away and Cinna rolled over and slid down the bed. "What's the punishment for using butter?" He murmured, voice husky while he nuzzled at Soba's throat, teeth grazing the side while he sleepily crawled over him to snuggle and nuzzle closer. Cinna pulled Soba close, a pleased purr rumbling through his chest.

Good way to end-start the day. Even fresh from work and smelling kind of like cigarettes, he couldn't stop nuzzling his throat. Finally, sucking in a breath and lifting his head, he sighed and gave a pleased hum before resting his head, on the pillow again. The sheer pleasure of being around His had his pupils practically swallowing up the iris and he smiled slightly, ear perked up.

"How was the day?" He whispered, hand drifting up and down his side. "Still want dinner or did you want to cuddle more?" Cinnamon purred, reaching to pluck Soba's hair from it's usual place of being done up. He finger combed it and gently scraped his nails over the top of Soba's scalp before he finally leaned in for a quick chaste little kiss before pulling away lifting his chin as a silent invitation to snuggle. Of course, that just exposed the indented scar at his throat where that little red cluster of scales had been, but Cinna waited patiently. Because he was super cool with going to make dinner or staying content and snuggley.

nephero:
“Tarred and feathered,” Soba hummed, eyes shut and head back to allow for more of those nibbles against the inky rendition of roses at his throat. “You'll be the new Harpies mascot from here on. Buh-cawk.”

He clucked a few more times, deciding for the time being that he much rather preferred chicken-language and other chicken things. What were chicken things? Feed and buh-cawking and eggs and more buh-CAWKing.

Soba reached up, carded his fingers through Cinna’s hair, drew him down for soft, featherlight nuzzles and felt… simpler. Not so made up of parts and puzzles. Instead of 1000 pieces, something more for a toddler. Square peg, square hole. Simpler.

Because Cinna looked at him like that, all dark pupils and purring affection, and that meant he was still Soba. He still fit together into a Soba shaped puzzle, and if he could at least be that, well…

Well, that was okay then. Square shaped peg Soba was okay.

“Bawk bawk, which can be loosely translated to mean about seven more cuddles, and then you feed me.” he murmured, nuzzling into Cinna’s throat. He paused, his nose grazing against the mass of scarring that had once made them ‘twinsies’. A piece missing. Something important. One last bit of the Cinna puzzle, but the circle peg wasn't there. The scale cluster had been a part, an important part to Cinnamon’s culture. Something about… family.

Family was important. Right? Right.

“You? All together? Full puzzle box?”

Draconian:
Tarred and feathered.

Cinnamon smirked, trying to imagine himself covered in feathers. Feathers for hair, bright and red. Maybe do the thing those parrots do, frill it out when excited or trying to catch a mate. It would be a bit awkward to be around Soba though, constantly have his frill up and out. A pleased little hum and Cinna pulled Soba closer, his hand on the other mans hip to hold her there.

"Full puzzle box?" Cinna repeated, taking a moment to consider it. The scar was sensitive, every touch against it sent a zing to his chest and he felt his heart lurch to remember it. "Mostly," He said honestly, nuzzling into Soba's hair, eyes falling closed while he tried to sneak a hand up under Soba's shirt, pressing a warm hand against warm flesh. "It's missing a piece but you can still figure out what the picture is supposed to be." There was a pause and he gently drew his finger tips over Soba's side.

"Does Seven cuddles trade in for anything? seven cuddles trade in for two hot make out sessions or something? Fourteen pecks on the cheek make seven cuddles?" Cinna grinned a little two wide at his on the spot currency system before he quickly closed his mouth and leaned back slightly to look down at his interesting rose. "Hm, what do two hot make out sessions trade into I wonder? Hmm, Sleep over, I think."

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