jikan_rpg | [closed] come home with me

Entry tags:

[closed] come home with me

⌛ Who: Scaramouche & Kazuha
⌛ What: Plum blossom date
⌛ When: Early February
⌛ Where: Wakayama
⌛ Warnings: Smooches finally, Smol naked idiots

[It's become commonplace for Scaramouche to find himself over at Kazuha's home, ever since the samurai had gotten one of his own. His visits so frequent, often spending the night, that he's begun leaving things there - no reason to carry them back and forth even if teleportation was something he was capable of. Given what had happened the past month sleeping isn't something he often allows himself when he does end up staying, though Kazuha has managed to get him to do so a few times. The concern of what would happen if he had another nightmare far too present in his thoughts most nights.

So when Kazuha asks him to visit he thinks nothing of it, the request to bring more makeup than what he had laying around the man's home only garnering slight suspicion. Not once since he's known the other Inazuman has he ever seen him wear any, so for the samurai to suddenly ask is odd. Perhaps he was going somewhere later in the day? The Harbinger can't think of much reason past that, though he can't see much reason why the man would suddenly need to wear any to begin with.

For once when he arrives at the small village in Wakayama he doesn't immediately busy himself with climbing the tree in Kazuha's yard to enter through the window. For once he knocks like a normal person, waits patiently for Kazuha to open the door and let him inside. The neighbours are likely staring from that fact alone, though he doesn't bother looking back to see.

He takes a moment to slip his zori off, before turning pointedly towards the samurai. Hair recently cut, drawing all the more attention to the gaze he has fixed on the samurai.]

Since when do you wear makeup?

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[Of all the ways to be greeted, the suspicious question only makes a slight sly smile spread across the samurai's face. He's leisurely as he steps back into his home, working his way though it to where he has hot water waiting for them.

Scaramouche knows his way around the house now so he doesn't stop to escort him, only expecting him to follow his slow stride. Despite that it can be inferred that he's going somewhere later, right now Kazuha is dressed in comfortable black jinbei.]

I thought you'd be pleased I'm taking an interest in my appearance with how you complain about it.

[Despite the rather frank response, his voice is warm. There's a nice glass teapot waiting for them at the table, and Kazuha pauses to drop in a blossom and pour hot water over it. As the pot fills, the flower unfurls, blooming vibrant and pink inside the pot.]

I'd like to ask your help with my hair as well.

[The smile Scaramouche is given doesn't offer much in the way of understanding what the samurai is up to. The man's sudden desire to take care in his appearance still a mystery he's left to ponder on as he trails behind him.

Kazuha isn't incorrect in his statement, it's nice to hear that he's actually interested in his own appearance, though as often as he teases and complains there's little he actually sees wrong with the way the other Inazuman looks on a daily basis. Makeup would enhance his features, but it was hardly something he needed. Not that he's ever made that opinion clear.]

Why the sudden change? It's a good start, but you hardly seemed interested before.

[The teapot isn't given more than a glance as Scaramouche removes his bag and sets it down, soon joining it on the floor and stretching out in a way that truly revealed just how comfortable he'd gotten around the samurai over the past months. Makeup and hair. Kazuha was going to owe him for this.]

Hair as well - did you have something in mind? Though perhaps I should be asking if you're certain you aren't sick.

I have something important coming up.

[The way the samurai holds himself is much more formal than the way the other Inazuman does, settling at the table in a perfect seiza kneel across from him. His head dips, his lashes shadowing his eyes as he takes a relaxed sip from his cup.]

I think I will trust your judgement and allow you to choose what you like best.

[He looks back up then, quietly looking across the table at the immortal. Scaramouche is beautiful— free of imperfection, he can't help but admire him. His eyes drift to his hair, to the newly shorn strands. It's been quite some time since he saw the other man like this; he still considered him an enemy the last time he had.]

So I see that you finally tired of long hair?

Oh?

[Scaramouche can't remember Kazuha mentioning anything of import before now, more mystery to shroud his already baffling change of tune. It's entirely possible that he had chosen not to mention it, or that the had forgotten, and either way had at the last minute realized he was incapable of fixing himself up on his own. Given the state his hair had been at the Gala the immortal doesn't doubt the thought.]

Is looking your best a requirement?

[It's something he's more than capable of, ensuring the samurai looks his very best, though he can't imagine what the Inazuman could be preparing for if he didn't expend as much effort for a formal party. The more answers he's given the more questions he has.

He leans an elbow against the table's edge, resting his chin in his hand as he simply watches Kazuha, attempting to work out the answers on his own. The samurai's face gives away nothing, though that comes as little surprise when he's always had difficulty in reading what was hidden behind the soft smile the man always wore. It's an annoyance.

It would be false to say he didn't enjoy the company of the other Inazuman, with how frequent he's come to seek out his company, but there's something past the bond they've managed to form that only helps to draw in his attention. Despite how he treats him the response he gets is often the same - undeterred patience, a gentle grasp of his hand and a warm smile. Kazuha was a puzzle to him. Perhaps it was that fact that kept him coming back, allowing them to grow closer over the past couple months as he attempted to work out how to solve it.

The comment on his hair pulls the Harbinger from his thoughts, focusing on the bright red of Kazuha's eyes.]

I didn't feel like maintaining it.

[The way they watch each other is a subtle push-pull. While the immortal spends his time trying to decipher what Kazuha is thinking from his expression, the samurai just idly considers what he might think is happening as well. Does he suspect? Surely he must.

He offers him a little laugh at the question.]

Yes, it's a very special day.

[He feels a rush of heat flood to his cheeks, and he looks away briefly. Kazuha flusters at just the thought of his plans, feeling slightly guilty for leading the other Inazuman into planning things to his standards unwittingly. He's thought quite a deal about this lately, made his own little preparations.

What if he's not interested? The thought still plagues him, worried about rejection. He thinks they could remain friends— maybe, if Scaramouche allowed it —though he'd need the time to lick his wounds before attempting anything of the sort again.]

Ah, it was nice though. I liked it. Though I like you like this, too.

[What a peculiar reaction, the slightest shift in the samurai's gaze and faint colour to his face, though it's one that pushes his own thoughts in a particular direction. A notion he'd only given brief consideration seeming far more likely from the small display. Did Kazuha like someone? Was he asked to do his makeup so he could go off courting someone? Certainly this 'very special day' wasn't anything so simple.

His mouth feels bitter as he considers the possibility that the reason his assistance was requested is simply that, almost as though it bothered him. Why be so vague about it if it were the case, it would benefit the immortal to know just what he was going to be fixing him up for. If he would even bother agreeing if he knew the reasoning.

Eyes narrow, Scaramouche's face scrunching up for a moment as he scrutinizes the samurai sitting across from him.]

Perhaps I'll grow it out again. With how long it will take to grow back I'll get a welcome break before I need to dedicate entire mornings to it.

[Wordlessly he stands, wandering off elsewhere in the samurai's home before returning with the makeup he's taken to leaving for when he chooses - or is convinced - to spend the night. It's set gently on the table before Scaramouche is fishing around in his bag for the rest.]

Legs out.

[Kazuha wonders what Scaramouche is thinking. The other man keeps looking at him so suspiciously, but hasn't asked a single question for further clarifcation. He notices this is quite like him— he always asked things that garnered simple responses and then never asked for elaboration.

How much does Scaramouche actually know about him?

He sips his tea, thinking about this as the other wanders off. His cup is about finished when the other returns and he looks up at him, smiling before he shifts obediently and unfolds his legs out from under himself.]

You know I would have brushed your hair for you.

[It's a bit too late to offer now, though for a few of those past months he wouldn't have been so kind to offer at all. Waking together is still fairly new, though he's find himself very fond of the way their morning routines have mixed with each other when they've had the chance.]

Hmm, so what are you doing later?

[The samurai's compliance is met with a quiet hum of approval, Scaramouche moving to adjust the man's position enough for him to straddle his lap. He says nothing, simply reaching across the table to grab onto his own cup of tea. A judging gaze falls onto Kazuha's face, silently debating with himself as he lifts a hand against the samurai's chin and tilts it, touch light as though he's dealing with something fragile.

A few minutes pass as the immortal contemplatively looks Kazuha's face over - he has a few ideas in mind, but he thinks he'll keep things simple. The other Inazuman looks stunning without makeup, he wouldn't need much. The thought of teaching Kazuha how to apply makeup on his own crosses his mind but a strange twist in his gut forces him to push it aside. A trailing thought of if he did teach him and he was indeed attempting to court someone, it would mean he would no longer ask for his assistance.

The cup is raised to his lips with his free hand, finally taking a sip of the tea - a subtle sweetness to it that he finds himself taking a few more sips before setting it back on the table.]

I'll remember that.

[Had Scaramouche known that Kazuha had fancied his longer hair he likely wouldn't have cut it - at least not until it became too annoying to bear. The help in brushing it wouldn't have been necessary, though he can't deny that it would have been pleasant. He wouldn't have said no.

Since when did Kazuha's opinion start mattering so much that he would consciously choose to do something to please him? He scowls inwardly at the realization, attempting to move his mind on from trying to rationalize the thought.

He's stared long enough, lost in too many thoughts that he was wasting time if the samurai had someplace to be later in the day. Gently he brushes back the man's bangs with his fingers, grabbing some clips from the pile of makeup to pin them back.]

I have nothing planned.

Edited 2022-02-06 06:13 (UTC)

[This is a completely normal part of the process, though having the other Inazuman in his lap like this, his eyes fixed on his face, makes his heartbeat speed up. He can hear the own thump of his heart in his ears; Kazuha swallows, returning the stare with a soft smile.]

Ah, just an aimless evening then. Am I rubbing off on you?

[With Scaramouche in his lap, he usually isn't sure what to do with his hands and this was no exception. He remains still as his bangs are clipped back, revealing the small, light scar that was hidden by his hair.

One of his hands settles on his waist eventually, keeping him steady and above the hip.]

Is it best if I remain upright? Do you need better lighting?

I would hope not. I think I deserve the occasional break, especially if nothing chaotic is happening that it can actually last for more than a few minutes.

[That he's learning how to resurrect people particularly calls for a break, some time to himself so that he can maintain a focused mind when learning. It wasn't a spell he could make mistakes on without serious repercussion, so he was going to do it perfectly. And perfectly did require him to be in top form, regardless of if his training was slightly speed up. He was afforded breaks. The Port Market was efficient in how they did things, he'd give them that.

Fingers lightly brush over Kazuha's scar, once his bangs have been fully pinned back. Scaramouche recalls the story of it, the young samurai-to-be's encounter with what should have been a friend. He could mask it, if the Inazuman's hair was going to be done in a way where it was visible, but he can't find reason to want to. A tiny mark of character, not a blemish that needed to be disguised.

Picking up a small brush he looks Kazuha's face over once more, shaking his head at the question.]

This is fine, my eyesight isn't that bad. Unless you're uncomfortable.

Hm, you make it sound like setting out with no goals or direction is a bad thing. I find it quite relaxing.

[It's not the first time that Scaramouche has touched this scar. Kazuha still finds himself curious about the gesture; it's only one of numerous scars on his body, but it's the only one on his face currently. It's a small thing, but does he find it ugly?]

I'm not uncomfortable. You don't weigh much.

[He can't help but look at the brush when he picks it up. Truthfully, he knows very little about makeup. He's never really applied much before, aside from what the geiko have done to him in Nippon and what his mother had applied to him when he was a young child.]

Do you use the same brush for everything?

It's not the worst thing, but I have no time to be that aimless.

[There's little Scaramouche doesn't plan, majority of his time in Nippon being focused around one thing or another. Perhaps once his training is finished, when he doesn't need to dedicate as much time to magic studies will he allow himself more freedom in his days. It sounds like an easy way to grow bored however.

A light chuckle escapes him at the question, clear that Kazuha has little idea on the subject. The immortal can't imagine he's worn much, if at all considering his life as a vagrant, but the samurai was also from a well known clan so he couldn't say for sure. It hadn't been enough, had he experience or not.]

If you used this for everything it would take you all day. This is for precision. I don't think you need much done - maybe some focus on your eyes. Really you look fine without anything.

[Scaramouche opens up a small jar, the contents a red oil-like substance, quietly coating the tip of the brush. It wasn't that Kazuha's natural beauty was something he found himself thinking about on occasion. Not that he thought about the Inazuman at all unless he felt particularly lonely and desired company.

Turning his gaze back to the samurai, he tips his chin up a bit.]

So tell me, who are you trying to impress?

[The chuckle is inoffensive at the very least. Kazuha finds himself glad that Scaramouche was endeared by his curiosity. He'd cleaned his face before the other man arrived, but as he scrutinizes it he becomes hopeful that he'd done it well enough.

The assurances on his appearance is mild, but it still makes him somewhat bashful, his eyes flicking downward. He knows he should be keeping still, with his eyes on his, but it's difficult.]

That's kind of you to say. The Kaedeharas didn't quite choose partners based off of beauty.

[He's the final result of a long lineage of good breeding stock, though they had generally selected wives that came from samurai families with good reputations. It was not common for them to marry outside class and occupation.

Not that it matters now. His clan has crumbled, the last of his name. Smitten with the Shogun's creation.]

Someone I've taken a liking to. Why, are you impressed, Scaramouche-san? I trust your judgement. I meant what I said when I just want you to do what you think looks good.

Were you an eyesore I would have needed to get here hours ago.

[Scaramouche frowns at the slight movement though he's yet to actually start, as long as Kazuha was capable of not shifting once the brush met skin then there would be no issue. If he couldn't then the Harbinger is certainly ready to let him know he was doing something wrong. Or he'd get a jab in the eye, which would be his own fault.

He holds the brush in one hand while the other pops the lid off a small tin with red powder, carefully picking up a slightly larger brush and lightly dusting it. Choosing the left eye to start on first the immortal carefully brushes the powder against the corner of the samurai's eye before setting that brush down on the table. The brush coated previously is moved to his more dominant hand as he uses his other to firmly hold Kazuha's head in place.

As meticulously as the other Inazuman's likely seen him some mornings he begins brushing on a thin line from the corner to beneath the eye.]

Tch, isn't this sort of gossip something friends exchange? Fine, don't tell me.

[It shouldn't irritate him, yet somehow without even knowing who this mystery person is, it does. The sheer confirmation that this was all for someone the samurai liked sits bitterly in the back of his throat and he finds that he has to force himself not to scowl. Kazuha was not beholden to his every request for company, and much like he often would do his own thing the samurai was more than permitted to do the same.

Friendship something the immortal was still trying to grasp.]

I think when I finish I'll be quite impressed. My work is nothing short of perfect after all.

[Had Kazuha meant impressed with him? Oh well.]

[There isn't much warning before Scaramouche gets to work, but it's difficult to miss the brush coming towards his eye. Kazuha tries to remain still, a difficult task when the feeling of the brush on his skin makes it feel ticklish. He resists the urge to lift his hand and itch the spot that Scaramouche just lined.

He's not used to the feeling of something on his face. If he makes it through the day without hopelessly smudging everything, he'd count his blessings.]

You always look quite beautiful, so I don't doubt that.

[Kazuha begins to wonder if he's dropped enough hints, but at this point the other Inazuman is either playing dumb or is genuinely naive enough he doesn't know. He wonders again if he's misread some signals— the way immortals think is truly mysterious to him.

His smile is soft, fond as he looks at him.]

You've not taken interest in my love life before.

Kind of you to say.

[It's not something Scaramouche hasn't heard before, nor is it a rare comment to come across when he is forced to interact with others, hardly even uncommon when he was trying to keep to himself. His beauty is something he's been aware of his entire life, a part of him he's embraced. Although the comments can be irritating he finds none prickles in his mind when the words come from Kazuha, the level of tolerance he holds towards many of the things the samurai does, impressive.

He works carefully, adding a slight peak to the corner while maintaining a slight fade as the colour reaches just right above his eye. Kazuha really did look good in red, the eyeliner matching him far better than he expected. Finishing up the eye he looks his work over, making sure he's satisfied before moving to mirror it on his other eye.]

You've never asked for my help in trying to impress some idiot before.

[Kazuha doesn't strike him as someone that would put effort into courting someone for purely physical reasons. In fact, when he thinks back on it he knows this is the case - were the samurai interested for solely that reason he would have attempted to talk his interest into bed with him already. That the other Inazuman is putting in actual effort to look his best for this person means this is more than that. Poor taste if he needed to look his best just to get their attention.]

Why you even need this to impress them is beyond me.

[The comment catches him a little off guard, and the samurai earns a little bit of smudged eyeshadow with a snorting laugh. He really has no idea! Normally by now he would have dropped this act if he recognized what was happening.]

They're very special to me, but they also are very hard to impress. I want to ask them to be with me, so I hope the effort will win me favor with appealing as a partner.

[He could make a game of it, see how far he could press before the other realized that the person he was speaking about was him. There's a small part of him that is getting a slight bit of pleasure listening to the other insult himself unwittingly.

He places his other hand on Scaramouche's hip, looking up at him smugly.]

It will be worth it, I think.

[Everything seems to be going well until Kazuha sees fit to laugh about something, the movement ruining what would have otherwise been a perfect line. Displeasure twists onto Scaramouche's face, unable to find any humour in what he's said. He should have held onto him better, though he had hardly expected the samurai to be unable to manage something as simple as sitting still.

A mistake on his part.]

Kazuha.

[The immortal has to force himself to take a breath, avoid berating the man for something so easily fixed. Easily fixed when he shouldn't need to fix it at all - especially at this stage. Kazuha is lucky he didn't get hit in the eye.]

I should just leave you like this. Now I have to redo it.

[He sets the brush down on the table, frown clear on his face as he gently pushes at the samurai's hands. If he's going to fix it he needs to wash off what he's done already. Maybe he should have come a bit earlier.

In between the irritation at needing to redo his work, Scaramouche's mind considers just who the samurai might consider special. Who was worth all this trouble. Who the man would wish to be with. And he realizes he doesn't know much about Kazuha's friends, nor what he does when the immortal wasn't demanding his attention. He can't help the part of him that hopes this plan to impress fails, recognizing that he might not be ready to potentially see less of the man he's grown so comfortable around.]

It hardly seems worth the effort.

[Oh, he doesn't want to make him mad. Kazuha gives Scaramouche the most remorseful expression, holding his gaze for a moment longer as the immortal pushes at his hands. He eventually relents and lets both of them drop, settling them on the floor; he should have stuck to just one.]

I'm sorry, I don't mean to waste your time. I will be more still.

[He tips his chin back up, curls of his loose hair slipping down his shoulder. After his makeup has been done, he thinks he'll go get changed into the outfit he's picked out for the occasion.

Part of him is a bit embarrassed at himself; he never was this formal with his old friend, though his lifestyle in Inazuma wouldn't have made much of this possible. It's odd to think, if the two of them hadn't met in Nippon, they might have never met at all.]

They're worth it to me.

[At least the samurai has the decency to look sorry for what he's done, it helps quell the bubbling irritation more than the deep breath had. Unintentional and not meant to cause him ire. Scaramouche's expression softens, frown faint and barely noticeable.

Lightly he taps on Kazuha's forehead as he pulls himself off the man's lap.]

Stay. I have to get something to clean it off.

[He isn't gone long, swiftly returning with a damp cloth and reseating himself in the samurai's lap as he had before. The problem eye is quietly cleaned off, the immortal diligent in ensuring nothing but perfection while being as gentle as he possibly could. When he finally goes to reapply what he had to clean off, the grip on Kazuha's chin is a bit more firm, not wanting to chance it smearing again.]

It still seems like far too much work just to get their attention. You shouldn't need to do this just to ask a question.

[Like Kazuha had anywhere else in mind to wander off to while Scaramouche was busy getting a cloth. He's a bit amused by the order, idly thinking about how he's going to ask him. Does he kiss him first? Picking the right timing was going to be tricky. Not now though— this would be far too soon, even if he was eager and anxious to 'make the leap'.

He doesn't say much when he returns, just letting him slip back into his lap and scrub his face. Kazuha tries not to scrunch his face much as he does, obediently going with each tug and pull against his chin.]

I've not done this before so I want to make sure it goes right.

[Tiny stars dot his hair, slowly springing up in tiny constellations as the other moves the brush across his face. It still tickles, but he manages not to squirm.]

I'm not really sure how it'll go, to be honest. We've not been physically intimate. I think they like me, but I'm not certain if it's more than friendly.

Makeup is unlikely to change the outcome of things.

[Though what does he know? It's not outside the realm of possibility that Kazuha is correct in his assumptions, that making himself look proper would draw this person's eye. The samurai could be attempting to court someone who cared greatly about such things, unable to see the Inazuman's beauty without it. He doesn't think he needs it, but he can't deny that even a little makeup makes Kazuha look good, leaning back to look at his work once he's finished.

The Harbinger shakes the thought from his mind, setting the brush down and ensuring everything is properly sealed. The stars don't go unnoticed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he removes the clips and allows the samurai's hair to fall free.

That should be it, though he takes a moment to consider - even if he had lingering thoughts on this whole courting matter Kazuha had asked him to make him look good. His face is perfect, at least as perfect as a human could be, he needs no more work there, but Scaramouche thinks he can offer a bit more. He adjusts, back to Kazuha's chest and grabs hold of a bottle of nail polish from the pile of makeup.]

And if it is just friendly, what then?

[He takes the man's hand, gently holding it for a moment, an act that was a more recent development between them. One he's only had a month to truly get used to, though he finds more soothing than it likely should be. He should be more supportive, but he really can't muster the energy.

Painted nails at least should be at no risk of being ruined.]

You're so pessimistic sometimes, Scaramouche-san. I don't think it will hurt.

[Perhaps he shouldn't trick him like this. Kazuha considers that maybe the other Inazuman might be angered by being lead on like this, though he's given him plenty hints that the person in question is none other than him. He still hopes it's obliviousness, not lack of interest, that makes him blind to it.

There's nothing really said to really warn him that he'd finished, just the click of the brush being set down, so he is a bit surprised when the immortal suddenly turns in his lap, taking his hand into his own. He sits still for a moment, warmth blooming in his chest as the touch lingers.]

If it's just friendly, then...

[What then? He tucks his chin against the other man's head, almost a kiss if it was deliberate rather than just the resting of his face against him.]

It will be difficult, but I think I will understand. I'm not compatible with many people and am nobody special. I'd like to remain friends, if possible.

If you say so.

[There's little room to argue, not knowing who it was Kazuha held interest for stopping any attempts past what Scaramouche had said already. He's offered his opinion, now it was up to the samurai to do with it as he saw fit.

The weight of the samurai's head against his is met with a quiet huff, though the immortal makes no moves, offers no words to stop it. His work on the other Inazuman's nails is swift but precise, carefully coating each on his hand before moving it to rest on the table and taking up the other. Perhaps if things went well with Kazuha and this person he would be asked for assistance again, allowed another moment like this - calming, despite his more bitter thoughts.

It's not his place to ask, nor does he feel the desire to. Merely a thought for himself as his mind works to process everything he's been told, everything he possibly feels in response to such news. Scaramouche isn't certain he likes friendship as it forces him to consider things he would otherwise push from his thoughts.]

Don't be ridiculous, Kazuha - you're plenty special. I wouldn't waste my time here otherwise. You have incredibly poor taste if this person can't see that, but that's another matter entirely.

[The sensation of having his nails painted is bizarre. A very light stroke that almost tickles, leaving him quite aware of the feeling of the paint on his nails. It's most pronounced when he moves onto his other, scarred hand, and Kazuha realizes he can't feel the touch of the brush at all. What else can't he feel?

Maybe not all of Scaramouche's soft touch. He considers how the other man has never shied away from his scars— twisted burns like this were certainly more grotesque to look at than neat cuts from a blade.

His chastising lifts his heart, a light little laugh huffing against Scaramouche's hair. It's funny... how fond he's grown of him, of these little scolding moments when he's too humble for the other's liking.]

Of course, how could I think otherwise? I do remember what you said that once now— that I'm a big part of your life.

[He might be teasing a little, though fondly. He remains still at least, letting the other man manipulate his hand as he needs.]

Would you like to go for a walk with me after?

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