What could a blue skinned, wall sticking, teleporter dress up as? What else than as
Kisame Hoshigaki! The only makeup he needed were the gills on his cheeks, he already had the blue skin and sharp teeth. He had to wrap his tail around his waist to keep it out of sight, but it was a small price to pay to be so utterly free to be able to show off his mutant powers without it thought of as nothing more than a trick of some kind. He was so happy to be here he almost forgot how close he had gotten to not coming at all.
Magnus 's room was still blotted out from the sun, absolute darkness but for the single source of light and the reason he came back.The door glided open with no light from the hall to wake her and slipped closed again. Across the room his disrobed from his ninja gear, taking a moment to check his clock, had so much time passed already? She had been asleep for hours and was probably in good need of it. he however felt a need for her.
Were this darkshadow, he would simply slip into the bed and rouse her like they had done so many times before. In many ways no more than assisted relief of tension, she was still able to pass for human and that always left a taint when trying to fulfill any relationship with her. With darkshadow, it was purely physical; with her, he wanted something more and he wouldn't taint it with something bordering on unwanted by simply raising up some minor magics to heighten her senses or alter her inhibitions.
He slipped back into his black silk pajamas and nestled in beside her with a good book known as the
Prose Edda. Quietly he read to himself, over time he began to read softly aloud and growing stronger as he poured over the words. He lost himself in the words of his god, even if he knew it well already, it was worth to read through over and over to try and find something new.
"...Bragi svarar: "Sjá saga er til þess, at Óðinn fór heiman ok kom þar, er þrælar níu slógu hey. Hann spyrr, ef þeir vili, at hann brýni ljá þeira. Þeir játa því. Þá tekr hann hein af belti sér ok brýndi ljána, en þeim þótti bíta ljárnir miklu betr ok föluðu heinina, en hann mat svá, at sá, er kaupa vildi, skyldi gefa við hóf. En allir kváðust vilja ok báðu hann sér selja, en hann kastaði heininni í loft upp. En er allir vildu henda, þá skiptust þeir svá við, at hverr brá ljánum á háls öðrum.
Óðinn sótti til náttstaðar til jötuns þess, er Baugi hét, bróðir Suttungs. Baugi kallaði illt fjárhald sitt ok sagði, at þrælar hans níu höfðu drepizt, en talðist eigi vita sér ván verkmanna. En Óðinn nefndist fyrir honum Bölverkr. Hann bauð at taka upp níu manna verk fyrir Bauga, en mælti sér til kaups einn drykk af Suttungamiði. Baugi kvaðst einskis ráð eiga at miðinum, sagði, at Suttungr vildi einn hafa, en fara kveðst hann mundu með Bölverki, ok freista, ef þeir fengi mjöðinn..."
Asha woke gently from the deep soothing darkness of sleep, her eyes comforted with a similar darkness than enveloped the room. There was a new heaviness in the bed, next to her. A new warmth. Stronger, hotter, seeping into her skin with an almost tempting ache. Her hands found him first, their shifting galaxy lights filled with bolder colors. His voice was deep, speaking in a strange and curious language.
"Mangus," her voice was the sound of stardust, gentle yet sweet sounding. Her contrasting hand passed over his abdomen, feeling molten in pleasing, like just touching set fire to her blood. It was a bold and intimate touch, but with her sleep her courage had also flowed back to her. His strange words in his hypnotic voice, she wondered what he was saying. It sounded beautiful in its strangeness and she peered up at him with her moonlit eyes.
"You're back," she said softly, propping herself up on her elbow, rainbow colored hair slightly floating up with her motion. She smiled and stretched with a breathless sigh of content pleasure, her eyes found him again. But this time they raked over his bare torso. Her colors blushed, shimmering with desire. "What are you reading?" she asked softly, curiously, though a bit distracted by his bare skin.
Magnus's stomach twitched and fluttered as he read the foreign language, if he had his father's spatial relation he would have felt her intruding into his bubble space but instead his stomach tightened up to football leather as she touched him. He didn't have a 'sick six pack' like others, he was toned and supple with definition of blue with navy shadows given illumination and contrast with her hands over his azure abdomen. His mind flickered lewdly to guide her hand under the seam of his beltline but he resisted, he could be a better man for her.
He watched her shimmering and shifting pattern for long moments. He was wordlessly admiring her as he put his hand to hers, tracing fingers over the back of her palm and sliding the tips of his pads up over her wrist to the forearm then back again. It was an odd sensation but her natural illumination prevented him from clinging to her since she dispelled the natural shadows he would use to grip her, in a way she left him powerless.
"You were sleeping, I've always been told to leave things of beauty just as they are. 'It is better to leave the rose upon the bush for all to see then pluck it and admire its slow death for yourself.' Then again I've all but kidnapped you to my room, so..."
He looked to the book he was reading and handed it to her. It was a well-worn piece about ten pounds with thick pages of old pulp and a hard cover with velvet book cover to keep it safe. There were stains on the fabric, some mundane, some exotic. It had the scent of age to it, no not age, the scent of experience. This book has been places and been a part of things.
"Its part of the Prose Edda, Norse myth. I got to warn you that it doesn't translate well, it is in icelandic from the thirteenth century..."
He closed his eyes and repeated the last page he had read to himself but to her instead. His hands slipped down to touch her, to put his hands under her shoulders to touch just above her breasts and pull her closer to him. He was trying to drag her nearer to nestle into him if she wanted but he wouldn't force her against her will.
"Bragi answered: "tale of Odin went home and came nine thralls were mowing hay. He asked if they fain that he whet their scythes. They confess it. Hein Then he took of his belt and sharpened ljána, but they thought bite Lea much better, and pale Hein, but food so that he is buying would, would give the hoof. but all said they wish and prayed he sold, but he threw Hein inside the air. When everyone wanted to throw, then were divided so with that each drew ljánum the neck rest. Odin sought a night's lodging to a giant who is called Baugi brother Suttungr '. Topical called evil trusted her and said that his slaves had nine drepizt, but was considered not to know the expectation of men. Odin called him Bölverkr. He offered to take nine men work for the Circle, but said his wages one drink of Suttungr Mead. Baugur said he expected nothing own mead, said that Suttungr was determined to have, but he said he would go with a curse Erki, and try if they would mead."
His skin was so beautifully dark, like pure moonless midnight. There was the strongest urge to kiss that warm skin of his, lean muscle tensing under her fingertips. At least she wasn't the only one effected by their closeness. Looking up at him, she found he had stopped reading for a moment and was instead watching her. His fingers trailed over her arm and she shivered in delight at the foreign sensation. Her colored warmed once more, but were vastly more vivid and golden in their blushing shades.
"I wouldn't call it 'kidnapping'," she said softly, shyly, with a slight smile. He handed her the book he had been reading, which was heavy and covered by velvet. It seemed to be very old and she was a bit fascinated. Norse mythology in Icelandic from the thirteenth century... Fascinating indeed. It was incredible. But her admiration for the book was replaced with a sudden attention to his hands. Pulling her closer to him, she nestled into his embrace. His deep voice rumbled through her gently as he translated the section he had been reading for her.
"Hm," she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder, before turning to look up at him, "It doesn't translate very well." She said it with slight amusement, holding the book carefully with both hands. "It sounds better in Icelandic too," she murmured looking back at the book's pages, "It sounds rather beautiful when you speak it though." Her leg slide against the silk of his pajama pants and she realized she still had on her tattered clothes. Carefully she handed him the tome and, regrettably, slipped out of his bed. Standing, she stretched a bit before looking over at him. Her ever changing eyes devoured the sight too. Running the tip of her tongue over her lips, she smiled softly.
"Do you mind if I borrow some clothes?" she gestured down to hers, "Mine are not so... comfortable." And she could feel him very well in them either, her rebellious mind added. Then she could twine her arms and limbs around his and savor every inch of his warmth and- Her own thoughts were making her blush and since her entire skin showed off how she felt, it was only a minor grace that he might not know that every color had its own emotion. Because when he did figure it out, it would be very hard to hide such wanton thoughts from him.
What happened next may have gotten him separated from her for the last two months, whether they got to see each other after that depends on who is telling the story. Suffice to say he grew disillusioned with the school after the reprimands of both the acts of teenagers loves lives as well as other matters. At his fathers insistence, he had gone to "Johnny Geode" to beg forgiveness for his actions forcing the earthmover into his new form of living stone. After that he was removed from duty and training with other students for several weeks. Quietly he kept his head down and did what he was told to do for over a month to finally earn his place back in the student body but it was lip service and nothing more. There has been a marked frustration in him he has been expressing if not radiating in his actions up until this convention where the old fashioned Magnus seems to be emerging.
