ArchivedLogs:Eating Out

Eating Out
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra
In Absentia	2014-10-13 '
Location somewhere in the Catskills
It's grey and dreary, a chill drizzly day that makes being A Holiday seem kind of a misnomer. Perhaps in the city someone, somewhere, cares that it is Columbus Day. Out here the trees seem unconcerned, the muddy-wet ground underfoot blanketed with a damp coating of fallen leaves, the rocks slick and wet and chill on the winding scrambleworthy paths that snake their way up the mountainsides. The chill might bother Dusk, sooner or later. He's phenomenally underdressed for it, lightweight black hiking pants, bare feet, a grey-green wrap shirt that has turned an even darker shade and is clinging wetly against his chest with the light but steady fall of rain, a small backpack of sorts tucked against his chest with its single diagonal strap crossed between his wings. At the moment, though, he doesn't seem particularly frozen. He's perched on an outcropping of rock, silhouetted against the slate-grey sky where he crouches overlooking the tree-covered Catskill mountainside. His mantled wings make his profile all the more noticeable, though way out here it seems there are few enough around /to/ notice. A few squirrels chasing each other up the wet tree trunks. A flock of starlings restlessly grouping and regrouping in a cluster of branches. A rabbit darting off beneath the safety of a nearby shrub. Water drips down off the sharp taloned edges of his wings, off his black hair where it falls down over his forehead, off the scruff of beard shadowing his too-pale face. He makes no move to wipe any of it away, motionless enough there almost /isn't/ much by way of Signs Of Life from him, save for the cloud of white that intermittently steams up around his mouth to indicate he is, in fact, still breathing. Banking sharply around a copse of flame-colored trees, Isra descends. Her massive wings cut through the mist and trail larger droplets in their wake. But for a faint hiss of rain and wind, her flight is largely silent until she backwings, hovering for a moment before alighting on the rocks near Dusk. Her skin is a riot of sunset hues from rosy pink and peach to deep blue and purple, accented with flame orange like banks of luminous clouds still high enough to catch the sunlight when the earth below lies in shadow. Most striking of all is the metallic purple-gold duochrome of her horns, nails, and wing membranes. Her clothes are plain by comparison, a grey form fitting cropped shirt with elbow-length sleeves and matching capris. Like Dusk, she carries a courier's backpack, though hers matches her skintone uncannily well. Her wings shiver as they settle down over her shoulders and her tail whips side to side, shedding water with each gliding step. This nervous energy subsides but does not vanish when she reaches her lover's side. She nuzzles his shoulder hard--glistening horn and all--and growls, a low rumble more felt than heard. Dusk's eyes shift though his head does not, a subtle tick of motion as he tracks Isra's downward path. There's a slow inhale as she gets closer, a small upward curl of lips that bares a small glint of fangs. One wing pulls in closer to his back as the other stretches out more, curling over around Isra to brush dark fuzzy skin against metallic-colourful. The long upper claw on his wing twitches downwards, rasping in a small scrape along one of Isra's nuzzling horns. "Mmm. I gotta get hooked up with some of that flair. Think it'd play better or worse with a jury? I could be a /flamboyant/ vampire." His tone is a little darkly amused, the idle question not seeming particularly /actually/ concerned with the answer. Isra half turns toward Dusk, rolling her head back against his wing. "There's no helping it if you're too magnificent for them." The growl continues to occupy her deeper voice, modulating slightly with the words. "If they don't like how you look, I'll--" Stopping abruptly, she expels the rest of her breath--quite a considerable amount--without completing the sentence. She stretches out one wing and curls it around them both to drape over his folded wing. "I have spoken to Hank, and he can cover my classes. If you want me around." She goes very still, only her ears swiveling to track small noises from nervous woodland creatures. "For moral support, that is. Not devouring the jury." Dusk's other wing ripples, rustling to shed droplets of water down off its tips. "We're always going to be too magnificent for them," he answers, the laughter in his voice present there, too, in a rumbling growl buried beneath his words. "I wouldn't say no, if you wanted to eat the prosecution. Hear lawyers come pretty greasy, though. Might need something to wash it down." The rumble of laughter dies away, his eyes closing as his head turns to nestle against Isra's shoulder. Softer: "I want you around. It's going to be --" This time /he/ doesn't complete the sentence, exhaling sharply. "I'll bring coffee." Isra slides her hands along Dusk's side, talons scraping lightly on his skin through the fabric. "Good, strong Lebanese coffee will make just about anything palatable. Even lawyers." A soft growl rises in her throat, and she tucks her angular cheek against Dusk's neck. "I will be there, and I will be as magnificent as you like." She nips at his shoulder with a faintly exasperated sigh. "Also, I'm hungry again." "Oh shit. Skip eating the lawyers. Just give me the coffee and I'll make it through." A shiver runs through Dusk, though its timing suggests it is because of the scrape of Isra's talons rather than because of the cold. His head tilts, head pushing Isra's aside to close his lips -- then his teeth -- lightly against the side of Isra's neck. "You're always magnificent." And with a snort: "And always hungry. Saw a couple deer. Just down there." His thumbclaw flicks down the hillside. Isra's pulse quickens at the touch of Dusk's teeth on her neck. "Always," she agrees, "but there's 'hippie wrap dress' magnificent, and there's 'strapless evening gown' magnificent." She squeezes down with the wing draped over him. "Not to mention 'practically nude' magnificent." Her tail swishes, fast and eager. "I hadn't /intended/ to drag you hunting, but..." One of her ears twitches in the direction he had indicated. "I might start trying to eat /you/ otherwise." This time Dusk's growl is lower, rough and hungry. His teeth squeeze in harder, tiny pinpricks of blood drawn from the skin. His tone slides over Isra's neck to clean them off. "Can I take all of those?" His lips nuzzle in against Isra's neck. "-- Right, because I always hate it when we hunt together." But he's not actually moving, his lips peeling back in a wider grin before, next time, they find Isra's mouth. His wing wraps around her, pulling her close in against him. "I don't know, though. Eating me first sounds /pretty/ alright by me."