we_meet_again | Overflow

[warmth, happiness, validation]

A flower, then.

Where do you want it?

[He considers for a beat - takes off the glove on his left hand, and holds it out toward Cobalt]

[He takes the offered hand, gentle. He's uncertain what Thorn's trying to tell him with this gesture. Palm? Arm? Unsure.

Holding Thorn's hand in his, he runs his thumb over the delicate skin of Thorn's inner wrist.]

...How about here?

[There's a sense of unease - of exposure, at it being in such a vulnerable spot. But Cobalt can actually feel the surge of indignation at himself, the way he shoves it aside, irritated]

There's fine.

[hesitancy, concern, a desire to please]

Would you prefer it somewhere else?

It's your tattoo; just tell me what you'd like and I'll do it.

It's fine. Honestly.

[There's still a hint of hesitation, but he is so irritated at himself for it; he shoves it down, and there is a complicated medley of stopBEINGthisway mixed in with frustration that Cobalt's seeing it, mixed in with - assurance? Is it assurance? It's probably assurance, but he thrusts it Cobalt's way almost roughly, some combination of soft intentions, under the backdrop of how mad he is at himself]

[Cobalt just... really wants to kiss him right now.

Really, really badly.

He has to physically stop himself from leaning down to press his lips to the spot where the tattoo will go. There are a lot of people here, and that's scary, so instead they're both going to have to deal with the very loud ache of artificially stifled affection.]

...Alright. Wrist, then.

[The tattoo gun will have to deliver the kiss for him, instead.]

[Gradually, cautiously, the irritation winds down; gratitude, instead, for Cobalt understanding]

...thanks.

Ahaha, you can save that for after you see what I'm about to do to you.

[FORTUNATELY FOR BOTH OF THEM there is an instruction manual here, so he's reading the instructions and familiarizing himself with the gun. He tests it out a little on a sponge to get a feel for it, and prepares Thorn's skin the way the manual instructs.

He's all nervous excitement, but at the same time he's taking this deadly serious.

Once Thorn is comfortable, he holds his wrist steady in one hand and starts getting to work, drawing each line with extreme care.]

[Despite the pain that filters through the link, he doesn't flinch; doesn't even bat an eyelid]

[He just leans forward, slightly, hair falling into his face as he watches Cobalt work]

[He works carefully, but even his best isn't very good. His fingers simply don't move the way they should. The lines are unsteady and childlike as he slowly traces out each petal.

At the end, he sets down the gun, picks up a wet cloth, and wipes the loose ink off the design. What's left behind is a small flower with jagged petals, about the size of a quarter, dark against Thorn's pale skin.

]

[He touches the raised lines of it, careful, with the pad of one finger]

[The feeling that wells up is difficult to place; certainly, Thorn has no word for it. But it's slow and swelling, like water rising up to fill a clear, still pool]

...thanks, Suri.

Y-yeah...

[Cobalt's feelings are complicated, too; they start off with a hearty dose of bashfulness, keenly aware of his own artistic limitations. But he's also very touched, and honored, both that Thorn would ask for this in the first place... and that he can't even detect a hint of disappointment at the result.

He doesn't really know what he's feeling now, but it's a lot.]

My... my motor skills aren't very good, but it's supposed to be a cornflower. They're my favorites. We had them in the garden at home.

...I don't know why, but I kind of identify with them. Maybe it's something as superficial as the color, or how they grow in unassuming places...

but,

if the cornflower is me, then you can carry me with you, and know that I'm here with you wherever you go.

[Oh]

[That's]

[There are a lot of feelings, at that]

[A whole lot of feelings, all trying to happen at once - all of them touched, and most of them warm, and they all come with a feeling of dangerously compromised, and knowing that he's dangerously compromised, and feeling like that ship went down like months ago and if he was going to try and start bailing, he probably should have, but he doesn't know if he even wants to swim, and that's terrifying, too]

[Also, he's doing that thing with his hair. Where it falls in front of his face]

[It does a very good job of hiding his expression, but also, that does not help right now,]

Edited 2020-05-09 19:54 (UTC)

[Thorn's doing that thing with his hair again. Cobalt starts to feel his normal anxiety and unease about it when he suddenly realizes the feeling Thorn's having while doing it is not the one Cobalt assumed he had. It is, in fact, a radically different emotion.

Cobalt's anxiety stutters and vanishes like a puff of smoke, replaced with tentative understanding and a bit of hopefulness, that maybe this gesture didn't mean what he thought it meant after all. Maybe this is actually okay.

Maybe this is better than okay.

After that, everything gives way to a growing outpouring of love, simple and helpless and large enough that it feels like it could fill the room. He wants to kiss him, to wrap an arm around him and pull him up against his side and take comfort in the warmth of his body.

But for now he does nothing except desperately yearn for his touch.]

...Would—

Would you be willing to give me one, too?

[He shivers, a little - ducks his head a little more, to keep his face hidden, expression carefully blank]

[Inside, it feels like he's drowning; the water is higher than he thought, and Cobalt feels so much, and it's hard not to let his own feelings spiral out of control, caught in a feedback loop]

[He is not entirely successful, and that feels dangerous, too. Everything is very warm, and a little helpless, and a little alarmed]

[It takes him a long couple of seconds to reply]

...sure. What kind of thing do you want?

[Apologetic, he tries to reel himself in a little. He does feel a lot, and he's not used to having other people in the splash zone.

He tries to focus on something else to calm down -- the supplies laid out, the options here, a decision he should make.]

Um.

...A piercing, actually.

Would you mind piercing my ear?

[Reassurance, and something complicated under that, something that feels like an apology]

[It's self-aware, in an awkward sort of way; aware that he's bad at this, and that Cobalt ought to be able to feel what he feels without needing to reel it in (and, tucked in even deeper, a fumbling effort to do better)]

...yeah. I can do that.

Thanks.

[It's just. Even trying to dial it back, it's a lot of love.]

Maybe... right here?

[he indicates the helix of his left ear]

...With some kind of cuff, I think.

[It sure is. And he is Very Compromised]

[(And also not quite able to keep the love from spilling out the other direction)]

...sure. Did you want to pick it out?

[hhhhhhhhhh oh no Thorn loves him back he's so happy he's gonna die]

[—C'mon, keep it together, focus! He picks through the assortment of earrings and picks out a couple simple-looking ones that he wouldn't mind wearing permanently.]

Mmm, which do you prefer: black or gold?

[whichever one doesn't get picked, he's going to pocket for later anyway]

...hmm.

[Considers them, carefully; considers Cobalt, carefull]

[Absolutely buying time to try and beat his emotions into submission, he is feeling too many things]

...the gold, maybe.

[yes, same, for Thorn's sake he's trying not to explode]

The gold one, then.

[PLEASED]

[Getting the wipes to clean the area, and a needle]

All right. Come here?

[He goes wherever Thorn directs him.]

How's this?

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