Open RP Post

[burnyoudown]

🔥 Hit me up on plurk or via PM if you have any questions/want to run an idea by me first/what-have-you.
🔥 General squick/trigger list.
🔥 m/m for anything shippy.
🔥 General headcanon for Kavinsky. If you've got different headcanon/ideas for a psl, hit me with 'em; I'm flexible.
🔥 Kavinsky's kink list.
🔥 This is open to everyone who wants to thread with me!

Comments

i love it already

[richspoiledrotten]

[There's a tension in his body at first, but when he turns to face the other boy and recognizes his face despite the sunglasses, he relaxes. His mouth curling into an uneven sort of smile as he looks him over- more or less in one piece, as far as he can tell. The realization that he's actually glad this boy is some sort of okay is a strange sort of feeling, one he doesn't want to put into words, even if he knew how.

So he just shrugs his shoulders, drags fingers through his hair as he looks up to meet the other boy's eyes. Eli's are green, but a little too bright given the low light of summer night- how he's lit only by fading embers and the distant flare of headlights.]

Elijah. I'm glad you're still breathing.

[There's something a touch awkward to how he says it- like he half expects Kavinsky to mock him for saying it, and chooses to voice the words anyway. He doesn't know if the other boy needs to hear it, but- there are a lot of things he didn't say before whatever the fuck it was that happened to Dimitri on New Years.

Of course, Dimitri wouldn't have pulled a fucking fire dragon from his dreams, or the strange white horror of wings and claws it had been fighting with. No, nightmares that slipped from his dreams were distinctly Elijah's sort of problem. He'd say that's why he'd been drawn to help that night on the 4th, but in truth it was more basic than that. It was just-- he'd needed to do something, to not be helpless this time. To change it when it looked like things were going to shit.]

You're Kavinsky, right? Everyone here says your name.

[Depending on how much attention the dreamer had been paying to the strange boy in the leather jacket amidst the chaos of the 4th of July, Kavinsky might notice that most of Elijah's tattoos are different this time. Except for the sword hilt on his wrist.]

:3

[burnyoudown]

[He didn't notice anything different about Elijah's tattoos, but that might have been because he was captivated by his eyes. Something didn't seem entirely right about them, but Kavinsky had seen far, far stranger things than bright eyes.]

Yeah. Thanks.

[Kavinsky had been at odds with the whole still breathing thing since the 4th, on and off, but in the end, he guessed he was glad, too. He'd come so close to throwing everything away because of a boy, someone who clearly didn't seem to need him the same way he needed someone else like him. But maybe he could still have that--not with Lynch, but. Maybe, if he played his cards right (and he usually did).]

That's me. Guess you could say I'm kind of like royalty around here.

[He grinned, just for a moment. He was like Henrietta's dark king though, his kingdom the shadows and darkness. This place wouldn't be the same without him but he also wasn't stupid enough to think that anyone would genuinely miss him--they'd just miss what he could do for them.]

Do you want your flask back? I've been holding onto it.

[And usually, when something was left with him, he kept it. Like coats left behind at a party. But this was different, and he wanted to ask about more than just the flask. He wanted to ask what was in it, why it tasted like dreams--and he knew what they tasted like. He wanted to know what Elijah was, assuming he was anything at all and not just normal and powerless.]

Whatever's in it's got a kick.