ᴀʟɪsᴀɪᴇ "ғɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ" ʟᴇᴠᴇɪʟʟᴇᴜʀ (
fearlessly) wrote2019-12-12 08:47 pm
THE PSL!!!!!!
[ this time, returning had not been easy.
it's certainly not the first time. from the temple and lunatia both, alisaie had returned to her home only to bounce back to both places, but each time had been a reset, a return to her "real life," to what she left behind, as if she had never left. she had no recollection of her time spent outside of this world, no memory of the events, or emotions, or people she had been leaving behind, and so ignorance had been bliss. she had remembered, of course, every time she returned, but it had hardly mattered then, once she was back.
this time, she remembers, and because of it there is a sense of.. finality. alisaie does not know how or why, but somehow, deep in her gut, she knows that she will not be returning to lunatia. it might be her natural cynicism, her realism that one day it would come to pass that she would arrive home and not return, and she may very well be wrong, but still she cannot help the feeling that it is over, that just as she had expected she is left to remember it all, to keenly feel the ache of her breaking heart.
prompto would have said that it would be worth it. he had said as much, in the past. he would say that having experienced love would be enough, that their time together, even if less than they both would want, would be better than nothing. she wants to agree, but in her heart she cannot convince herself, and instead there is only a quiet, private bitterness that she nurses in the deep hours of the night when she sleeps to the sound of the chilly wind over the dry sands of amh araeng. the desert suits her, arid and inhospitable and imbued with an old and powerful sense of longing and loss; mayhaps it was one of the many reasons she had been drawn here to begin with, when she first arrived on the shard. this wasteland at the ends of the earth, its very sands and stones infused with the ache of countless grieving hearts and angry ends, is a reflection of her soul. it always has been.
but still she works. that much is easy. there is always work to be done, and alisaie is more than happy to see to it, to bury herself in it, to distract herself from her anger and heartbreak because it has been several moons now, and she was right. it has all ended, and rather than prompto being erased from her heart and mind, she is left with the lingering memory of him in her mind's eye, on her skin, in her heart. he had promised, and where is he now? where is she? alone with her thoughts in this desolate wasteland.
would that he were here, if only so she could sock him right in the gut. ]
it's certainly not the first time. from the temple and lunatia both, alisaie had returned to her home only to bounce back to both places, but each time had been a reset, a return to her "real life," to what she left behind, as if she had never left. she had no recollection of her time spent outside of this world, no memory of the events, or emotions, or people she had been leaving behind, and so ignorance had been bliss. she had remembered, of course, every time she returned, but it had hardly mattered then, once she was back.
this time, she remembers, and because of it there is a sense of.. finality. alisaie does not know how or why, but somehow, deep in her gut, she knows that she will not be returning to lunatia. it might be her natural cynicism, her realism that one day it would come to pass that she would arrive home and not return, and she may very well be wrong, but still she cannot help the feeling that it is over, that just as she had expected she is left to remember it all, to keenly feel the ache of her breaking heart.
prompto would have said that it would be worth it. he had said as much, in the past. he would say that having experienced love would be enough, that their time together, even if less than they both would want, would be better than nothing. she wants to agree, but in her heart she cannot convince herself, and instead there is only a quiet, private bitterness that she nurses in the deep hours of the night when she sleeps to the sound of the chilly wind over the dry sands of amh araeng. the desert suits her, arid and inhospitable and imbued with an old and powerful sense of longing and loss; mayhaps it was one of the many reasons she had been drawn here to begin with, when she first arrived on the shard. this wasteland at the ends of the earth, its very sands and stones infused with the ache of countless grieving hearts and angry ends, is a reflection of her soul. it always has been.
but still she works. that much is easy. there is always work to be done, and alisaie is more than happy to see to it, to bury herself in it, to distract herself from her anger and heartbreak because it has been several moons now, and she was right. it has all ended, and rather than prompto being erased from her heart and mind, she is left with the lingering memory of him in her mind's eye, on her skin, in her heart. he had promised, and where is he now? where is she? alone with her thoughts in this desolate wasteland.
would that he were here, if only so she could sock him right in the gut. ]

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Sighing more from exhaustion than anything else, Prompto steps past the curtain, Pea trotting at his heels, and once it sweeps closed behind them, he drops his bag and begins to unlace his filthy, mud-stained boots. ]
Hey, you don't know, maybe I picked up on the Gladio way of life! Wearin' my manly musk proudly. Blood, sweat, and...everything else.
[ Gods, he feels disgusting. ]
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[ she teases, and it's as if no time has passed at all, as if nothing has changed between them, because.. it hasn't. these long moons have felt endless, but in the end, their time apart was not terribly long, compared with what it could have been. falling into their old patterns is as easy as breathing.
reaching through the curtain, alisaie flips the wooden sign to occupied, and sets to work filling a wooden bucket with water from the filled tub and splashing it into the empty one, before she's carefully helping prompto out of his dusty jacket, and tossing it right into the water of the second tub. alisaie has a much higher tolerance for grossness than prompto does, but even she knows when it's time to get the scummy clothing washed. leaning in, she sniffs at the nape of his neck, then recoils - mostly exaggerated, but he's still pretty ripe.. ]
Gods, that stink could fell an aurochs.
[ she's trying, and failing, not to smile. ]
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Oh, yeah? You don't exactly smell like a sweet summer rose yourself!
[ And instead of peeling off his stinky shirt, he's just going to wrap his arms around her shoulder and pull him right into his smelly embrace!!! Didn't she miss him so much. ]
How d'you like my smell now, huh? Huh?
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[ which isn't, you know, super duper recent but whatever she's not even close to his stinkitude!! alisaie shrieks, immediately shoving him back and wriggling free of his smelly embrace like a little wily ferret, even though she's laughing while she points to the tub. ]
In! You stink worse than a summer chocobo!
[ that eau de barnyard ]
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But between them, nothing really has, has it?
Chuckling, he peels off his shirt and pants which stick to him more than he cares to admit or think about, and throws them in the empty basin with the others. There's only one thing he still wears — the compass locket, one half of the set that she possesses the other part of. It hasn't worked right since he arrived in Norvrandt, but still, it was a momento of their time together, and it kept him same throughout his journey.
Without further ado, he steps into the warm water of the tub, easing himself down while what sounds like every bone in his body cracks. ]
Ohhh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about...
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You see?
[ she knew he needed this!! she knows her boy well. and honestly, even gladio would probably enjoy a piping hot bath after that long on the road. alisaie dumps a scoop of soap flakes into the water with the clothing to let them soak, then dumps another into prompto's water, before lifting a washcloth and circling 'round behind him. slowly, gently, she dips the cloth into the water and begins to draw it over his shoulders. ]
Go on and fall asleep, then.
[ she murmurs, around a smile. ]
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But I don't wanna get all p-pruny...
[ Despite the lightness in his tone, his voice breaks over the last word as a sob catches in his throat, and quickly, he reaches a hand from the water to grasp one of hers, bringing it close so he can press kisses and gentle words to her fingertips. Emotions that cannot be contained inside his heart any longer and must be expressed.
How in the world did he get so lucky as to have this? ]
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but immediately after she is leaning forward, gently winding her arms around his shoulders and neck from behind, her chin coming to rest in the dip of his shoulder. being apart and afraid has been difficult, yes, but he has also been all but alone in a strange world for.. how many moons now? several, if she's to assume that he arrived when she did, that they left lunatia at or around the same time. it must have been frightening, and lonely, and alarming, every step dangerous and uncertain. ]
It's all right.
[ she murmurs, her voice gone soft and gentle, her brow tipping against his temple. ]
I am here. You are safe.
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I-I know. [ He hiccups in a breath, before his tone steadies. ] I know.
[ It's in part why he weeps now, because he is at last here, at last safe. That simple fact is so much to take in, that it can't help but be overwhelming. ]
I just...
[ But words fail him then, so instead, he simply lets his eyes fall closed against her neck, inhaling the scent of her, reveling in it, and the familiar warmth of her skin. ]
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she definitely feels that stubble, and will get back around to that later.. ]
I know.
[ she says, with a kiss pressed to his temple, another into his dirty, sandy hair. ]
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Together, they can face anything.
Sniffling as his breathing evens out, he draws back just enough to peer up into her face, to kiss her mouth, soft but needful, before he breaks away with a shuddering sigh. ]
...Not tryin' to set a new record of the number of times I've cried on you in one day, promise...
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That is a hard pressed record to break.
[ she teases, while gently drawing the warm washcloth over his shoulders again, scrubbing away dirt and sweat from his hairline and collar, rubbing it behind his ears, against his nape, into his hair, down into all those nooks and crannies she knows he'll itch about later. her boy sure likes to be clean.. i can understand that.
only when she is done does she continue, rinsing the cloth with more warm soap and water before she's washing his arms one at a time, scrubbing gently from shoulder to his dirty fingertips. really, he needs two baths, but this will already be worlds better. ]
I'd nearly begun to miss your teary outbursts.
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He missed feeling clean almost as much as he missed her. Almost... ]
Heh, bet you did...you missed moppin' me up, huh? And goin' all octopus around you in bed, and wakin' you up early in the morning, and me ticklin' you when you least expect it...
[ She gets to experience all of that over again!! ]
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Ahh.. are you certain you would not prefer it if I abandon you in the desert again?
[ she's missed him so much and here he is reminding her of all of his most annoying habits!! but she leans her weight onto the back of his shoulders anyway, nipping at his ear like an angry little squirrel. ]
But I suppose I might have missed it. Well, not the tickling.
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But pulling away from her is just so godsdamned hard right now. ]
Not the tickling? I thought you loved it when I tickle you! You always bust up laughin'...
[ He says, trying (and failing) to repress his smile. ]
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Give it a try, then, and see how quickly I boot you right into the sands.
[ she threatens, sweetly, then plants a hand atop his head to begin pushing him downward. ]
Rinse off, stinky.
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But thanks to his exhausted instincts, he doesn't really have the wherewithal to fight back against her dunkening, instead squawking softly before his head goes under. He does need it, and he would have gotten around to rinsing out his hair sooner or later, but he didn't mean for it to be like this!!!
He whips back upright a moment later, shaking out his hair like a pup. ]
Hey! I was gettin' around to it!
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That was hardly a good scrub.
[ she says, SASSILY, before she's working the soap into his hair, scratching at his scalp, lathering it in deep. he probably has a few lice in there tbh. they're screaming in pain. she'd make him wash his own hair, but she knows how much he loves to have his scalp scratched and massaged, and this had once been such an.. intimate part of their ritual. bathing each other was so often a way for them to connect, to be close to one another. ]
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Oh...
[ He had almost forgotten how nice it was to have someone tend to him. To touch him where he is so sensitive, especially when he needs it most. ]
A-alright, maybe I won't...tickle you anymore...
[ ...Today. ]
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humming softly, alisaie smiles, rubbing circles behind his ears both for comfort, and also to clean out all the dirt and grease she hadn't been able to reach properly with the cloth. ]
You had better not, if you know what is good for you.
[ and if he values good head rubs!! ]
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Mmm...that's the spot, right there...
[ He might not be Moonblessed anymore, but he was always part puppy, anyway. His leg is liable to start kicking at any moment. ]
I missed this...
[ Not just the head scratchies. The closeness with another person, the intimacy, the reassurance and stability. He at last feels as though he has his feet underneath him again, like he is no longer caught in a free fall that might break him in the end. ]
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what a long way she has come. ]
So have I.
[ she murmurs, close beside his ear, but soon enough she is pulling back to begin pushing on his head and shoulders again. they're entering feelings territory, time to retreat!! ]
Now, rinse again.
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Only once he has made sure his hair is free of suds does he pop back up again, heaving a sigh and leaning back again. ]
What would you do if I did fall asleep in here, huh? Just throw a blanket over me and call it a day?
[ The water is nice and warm now, but soon enough it will be cold, falling asleep doesn't sound so appealing when he thinks of it like that. ]
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but alisaie chuckles in response. ]
Probably. You would be a giant prune come morning.
[ he smells much better now when she leans in to rest her chin on his shoulder, the washcloth in her hand coming to rest against his chest. ]
Are you going to scrub your lower half yourself, or shall I?
[ tbh she probably can't reach his balls from here anyway, and they're probably real gross, but it's fun to point out. ]
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Hm...nah, I got it.
[ Taking the washcloth from her, he turns a quick peck against her cheek before he leans forward to, you know, scrub at his crusty balls. ]
Trust me, you don't wanna now how gross I am down here.
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