logs | (catchall / closed)

[ He immediately puts his hands up to placate him, seeing, hearing, and experiencing the spike of alarm that he should've anticipated from the beginning. ]

Let me finish.

[ BE CHILL... ]

As I said, we do not have to do anything. But— [ his mouth twists as he looks off for a moment, debating internally before he continues, ] The consequences have been—...They're something I'd rather not experience again.

[ like maybe one of the sprites stole areadbhar and he wanted to die ]

If it's been the same for you, then...

[no problem. felix will be completely normal about this.]

I'm not kissing you!

[gripping the counter, he leans forward and says it so quickly that he cuts off dimitri's trailing thought. his emotions arrive at the same speed—all the alarm and confusion only heightened to the extreme, giving way to a sort of furious panic and indignant fluster that he's extremely ill-equipped to deal with.

this, in turn, triggers a coughing fit, sending a flurry of black smoke and white gardenia into the air before he manages to cover his mouth. after a moment, he uncovers it again, expression lemon sour.]

I've been dealing with the consequences just fine! One more is nothing!

[he says, having just angrily chopped down a cluster of mistletoe. how many is he dealing with currently...]

[ Fantastic. Great job being normal.

His brows hop up at the sudden flurry of emotions and smoke and perfumed petals, and Dimitri approaches like Felix is an injured cat, quick but cautious not to touch without warning. And much like dealing with an injured cat that does not want to be helped, this is incredibly frustrating, actually. ]

You are not fine. How much have you—!?

[ He's flustered too, not sure how to deal with this situation in the slightest, but he trails off because he knows this isn't the right tactic. He won't be able to convince Felix by doubting his ability to withstand a storm.

So he sighs hard, bracing his hands on the counter as he shakes his head. ]

...I am telling you that I am struggling. With your consequences. [ Both because Felix is his friend, and seeing him hurting is painful, and because they're soulmates. ] And with my own.

[ He's rather affirmed now that Felix is completely repulsed by him, and wouldn't do this for his sake, but might at least be willing to compromise based on Dimitri's weaknesses rather than his own strengths. He sounds a little drained. ] So could you... consider it?

[dimitri changes tactics, and as he speaks, it's noticeable that felix's stream of consciousness mental noise is decreasing, or at least, muted a bit. there's still a constant refrain of fluster, anger, confusion, but he's clearly listening, his lips pursed into a thin line. the drained voice, the tense grip, the frustration. dimitri wasn't the type to lie, and the struggling, the honesty of it all was irritatingly crystal clear through their connection. and now the ball was in his court.

for a long, silent moment, felix stares at dimitri, expression tight and cross, giving nothing away. but with soulmates, it's never that simple. and so dimitri can feel the quiet concern as it steals in amongst the cacophony of feelings, as well as felix's own creeping distress at his situation at large. finally, faintly, like the wings of a moth fluttering against a lantern, there's something nostalgic—a warm emotion somehow the same shape as two boys holding hands in the snow.

but as soon as these familial sentiments are apparent, they're abruptly cut off, giving the sense that felix is unceremoniously squashing them. not out of malice, but more of a squawking indignance at the realization they're leaking out in the first place. the mental equivalent of someone slamming their private diary shut, leaving only the surface-level bluster.

outwardly, felix is now making a big deal of sighing loudly in irritation, flicking his hand over his shoulder, brows furrowed.]

Fine. I'm considering it. [in fact, he can even reframe it—as a challenge. he crosses his arms.] Have you ever even kissed someone before, boar?

[ Remarkably, Felix is considering. Despite being his request, Dimitri looks a little taken aback that Felix would agree, completely braced for an outright rejection.

But the pranks have gone too far, and he can't deny a nudge of relief. Mostly relief. Except that the fluster of emotion on Felix's ends leaves him undeniably curious, studying him for a moment, like maybe if he could break through that frigid cover, there might be something warm beneath.

...Wishful thinking, he's sure. It was such a brief and muted moment of nostalgia that he isn't willing to anchor his expectations in it, even if he's left feeling adrift about the two of them, as always.

Best to stick with business. ]

No, but does it matter? [ While even Dimitri would like to believe in romance, where a first kiss might be special, a moment stolen away with someone you love... his life has never exactly fallen into the neat, whimsical storyline of prince charming. This was an almost transactional thing anyway. ] Have you?

[dimitri admits to his complete lack of experience immediately, leaving felix scrambling to consider a reply. lie? boast? no. he wasn't sylvain, and there was nothing to brag of, anyway. jeer? mock? also no—to what end would it treat, considering he was the same? ultimately, he decides honesty is the best policy—if he was going to treat this like a duel, then all the cards should be on the table for equal footing.]

No. [ok, but now that he says it so plainly, it sounds stupid? but he presses on, acting like this is just a footnote.] You're right, it doesn't matter. What's there to think about?

[everything, actually. his mind is racing, the further he descends into this irreversible game of kiss chicken. lips. what do you do with them, actually? do you push back when you kiss? should he? no. he should stay still. but wait, would that mean he was weak? should he kiss back? would that establish his dominance?

why was he thinking about this ridiculous chain of thoughts at all???

he points at the kettle, coughing rose petals into his elbow.]

Tea. I'm not doing anything before the tea.

[maybe the hot water would sanitize things?]

[ He gets the sense that Felix isn't agreeing with him, so much as trying to convince himself. It's silly, but so is this entire escapade. He smiles weakly, leaving Felix to stay perched like a gargoyle. ]

If nothing else, I'm glad this is what convinces you to accept some tea.

[ The water's finished boiling by now anyway, so he'll serve them in some sturdy mugs. It's an herbal blend, pleasantly soothing on a raw throat. He'd serve it with honey, but he remembers that Felix has always had an aversion to sweets.

So here he is, pushing a plain mug of tea his way, debating on how to word his reassurances. ]

...Don't let it trouble you, Felix. [ And he knows that it is bothering him, thanks to the static buzz of emotional white noise he's picking up between them. ] Though I'm sorry to put you in this position. It must be awkward.

[ you know, since he HATES HIM ]

Please. I don't care.

[he takes the mug, and sips. no, he's incredibly troubled. his mind buzzes with worry, concern. he can't stop thinking about lips. is dimitri even aware of himself? aware of what he's inflicting on him? one minute they're at odds, next they're kissing? what is he supposed to do with that? that he in any way cares about--

that dimitri--

that he's always--

felix suddenly gulps down the tea without a care for how it burns at his throat. maybe that's good, actually. a kind of cleansing energy for his whole mental state, burning away the tense emotions of caring about what is about to happen. his head swims with conflicting feelings, tense and overbearing. it would be over in a moment, if he let it.

should he let it?

he screws up his feelings, hands in fists.]

...I'll do it. Just... close your eyes.

[ The tea is very hot. It's just shy of boiling water. So he does briefly look concerned, and then decides against actually doing anything about it, because it's probably better not to prolong... whatever is happening, here. It should be straightforward, because kissing is a means to an end, where the end is that Felix isn't loaded up with his hundredth curse, and Dimitri doesn't need to go traipsing blindly through the Shadowlands for Areadbhar again.

Which is why he tries not to think about the furious, wasp-like buzz of emotion he's sensing, strangely heavy. He isn't meant to be privy to it—it isn't meant to be spoken on. He tries not to wonder about why Felix is driven to such a warring state over him, and what his other self must have done to deserve it.

But he isn't good at quieting his mind, so there's just notes of uncertainty, an emotional equivalent of wringing his wrists before he sets aside his tea and shuts his eyes, standing stiffly and awkwardly. He's doing great. ]

Um. Like this...?

Yeah. Fine.

[this is all completely ludicrous. if he accepts that much, then maybe he can make the leap necessary to do this. at least perched on the counter like this, dimitri's height difference is negligible enough not to matter at all, which is somehow irritating in its own right.

worse still, dimitri's emotions are picking up, too, no doubt a direct feedback loop in response to his own. great. mentally, he makes a vain attempt to stomp down on things—but every time looks at the man in front of him, eyes closed, waiting on a kiss, from him, everything escapes containment.

hesitantly (although not meaning to be), he places both hands on dimitri's shoulders, and has breakthrough hysterical moment thinking about what he's supposed to do with his nose. it must just work. otherwise people couldn't be doing it all the time. sylvain didn't talk about poking out anyone's eyes--goddess, was sylvain going to hear all of this, too? he had to be quick.]

Okay. I'm... just keep your eyes closed.

[at this point it's probably been at least a minute since dimitri initially closed his eyes? felix continues having a normal one by leaning forward, tilting his head, staring, jerking back again, and frowning. no. he just needs the right headspace. sword battle. duel. he's taking the offensive here. no more hesitation. only action.

which is why his grip on dimitri's shoulders suddenly tightens, and he swoops forward at speed, crushing the most aggressive kiss possible into dimitri's lips.

the emotional equivalent of a short circuit happens, and it's a second before felix has space to realize that's probably more than long enough, and pushes away with a sharp inhale.]

Th...There. Done.

(catchall / closed)

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