[Closed; Mushverse Past] Basco/Marvelous voice testing/history sharing.

[captainmarvelous]

It still feels like I'm inside a dream as the startlingly red captain takes me onto his ship. I have the image of it first coming into view still burned to my eyelids; when I blink I still see it as it rose in the sky behind him, as red and bold as its captain. I haven't felt so drawn to something in my life, its call as strong to me as the song of the stars. It's as if even the blood in my veins longs for it; I don't think I could have refused the captain's offer to join his crew, even with how strong my pride can be.

He shows me the engine room, the impressive inner mechanisms that keep the ship airborne, keep it humming with life. And it does have life, more than any ship I've been on before. I can feel it humming under my touch as I grip a railing. This ship has a voice, has a story to tell me, or maybe one to make with me.

The brief yet concise tour eventually comes to the main living room, what I can feel just with my first steps is the heart of the ship. It's sparsely furnished, a small table with a pair of chairs, a tiny couch with coffee table, the main controls for the computer screen on the far wall. And of course the captain's chair.

I hover at AkaRed's elbow for a moment, drinking in my surroundings as he points out the stairs that lead down toward the crew quarters, the doorway that leads to the galley, and the other stairs that lead up to the crow's nest.

It already feels like home. Like I've lived here all my life.

AkaRed moves to sit in his chair, tells me to make myself at home, pick out a room for myself. I shoulder the small pack I brought with me, all I usually travel with, and spin around, drinking the room in all over again.

Comments

[curryjolokia]

When blood blooms on Marvey's arm, I frown and step close, gripping his arm firmly above the elbow and tugging upward to help him keep his balance.

"That's a bit more than a scratch," I comment dryly, giving him a smile to show I don't think less of him for the wound. Whether he'll believe that or not isn't in my control, but at least I can be straightforward about my half.

"Let's get back to the Galleon. I'll get you bandaged up."

[captainmarvelous]

I frown when he grabs and tugs at my arm, my ears feeling hot from angry embarrassment, mild though it is. I held my own just fine, despite the wound; not my fault Basco doesn't have a scratch on him and I end up bleeding all over everything.

I do consent to him dragging me along back to the Galleon though. There's not much else we can do on this planet, and it will be nice to stop bleeding all over myself.

I flop down on the couch when we arrive in the main room, slouching down dejectedly, and set about rolling back my sleeve, hissing a bit when the wound stings.

[curryjolokia]

"Stop fussing." I fetched the first aid kit as soon as we were back aboard, and settle onto the seat beside him with composure, though I'm not above jabbing his hip with one of the kit's sharp implements to make him sit the hell up and leave me room to work. I do so for a few minutes, sanitizing the gash, putting pressure on both sides of it with my thumb and the knuckles of my middle and ring finger. My long fingers are useful in this case, because Marvey's wrist is easily encircled by my hands without my even trying that hard.

"This isn't serious." Well, it's not as serious as he's making it out to sound. "Quit your bitching. I'll have it all wrapped in a moment." One hand around Marvey's wrist, I tug his arm into extension, pulling it across his body toward me. I can't reach otherwise.

[captainmarvelous]

So what if I'm being petulant? I hate that he has to tend to me, that I'm the one that got injured, when he doesn't have a scratch on him. Cheeky bastard.

I honestly can't remember which attack was the one that slashed my arm open, and that's bothering me just as much as having Basco fuss over me is.

"I'm not bitching." I slump down a little again, wincing only slightly when this tugs at my wound, what with my wrist held firmly in Basco's hand.

[curryjolokia]

"Mmmmyup you are." I grin at him, drawling my words. "But I'm used to it. Mabe-chan has an opinion on ev~ry~thing."

With a final tug, probably more firm than it strictly needs to be, I finish off the binding with a square knot and hand Marvey's arm back to him, patting the back of his hand comfortingly.

"You should eat," I advise, straightfaced, but a smirk threatens to peel up the corners of my mouth in amusement at how adorably easy this is. He is.

"You've lost blood. You should find a good source of protein. And probably salt, and hydration, too. Pronto!"

[captainmarvelous]

"And you don't?" I grumble as he ties the bandage closed. He pats my hand and I yank it back from him rubbing at my wrist and testing how much I can flex my hand without pulling at the wound. The bandage is sound, and I still have all the proper motions left in my hand. Good.

Of course then he mentions food, and I can't exactly help that my mood brightens considerably. "Food? What kind of food?"

[curryjolokia]

I laugh - I knew even the slightest mention of food would perk his interest - and lean in with a cooing smile, spreading my palm flat and hot against his leg and rubbing a rough stroke up from the knee of his jeans towards his groin. I learned, last time, that I have to lay it on a bit thick to tip this one to any sort of culinary innuendo I mean to ply him with.

"Whatever kind you would like, though I suggest meat...or sausage. I could feed you~" I trill, watching the crinkle of his nose and the curl of the corner of his lip, gauging his mood. "Like a pair of lovers~"

[captainmarvelous]

I grumble uselessly, leaning away from him as he coos at me.

Though my dick responds a little to his wandering hand, my stomach responds much more forcefully, giving a strong growl at the idea of any sort of offering of meat.

"Stop that." I force a frown, and stare him down. "I'm hungry."

[curryjolokia]

He wants to try and stare me down? Fine. Bitch eyebrow on full volume, I give him a pissed, pursed little frown and lean back, crossing my arms with a dignified little 'tsk'.

"Oh? Then perhaps you should really go eat something." Me, I'm not moving. Does this look like the face of a guy who goes out of his way for you? Nope, didn't think so.

[captainmarvelous]

I sigh at him, rolling my eyes. My mood is still shit, my pride still wounded from my injury.

"Fine." I shrug, moving to get up off the couch and head for the kitchen.

[curryjolokia]

Oh, now he's the offended one?

I cover his ass through the whole fucking battle, bandage his wound, don't once imply any sort of disdain or even silent commentary on the fact that he got wounded on what was supposed to be a milk run (and though I can't expect him to give me credit for what he doesn't realize, which is that I'm pointedly not dissing his hero Aka-Red in front of him, that's another little effort I'm extending him).

And now I'm a jerk for sulking because I don't like getting turned down?

"Don't flip off your cook if you don't want to have to cook for yourself," I shout after him, rather more petulantly than is probably reasonable.

I tell myself I don't care. He started this bullshit. I get off the couch too, stalking over to the barrel we've recycled into a small table and workbench. I've got a new trumpet shiny thing to poke at.

[captainmarvelous]

"I'm hungry." He knows I can't focus on anything else when I've got an empty stomach.

And it's not like he was the one wounded in the fight.

I grab a large bit of cured sausage, some cheese, and a hunk of bread, tearing the bread vaguely in half and then squashing the sausage and cheese between between the pieces. It's sort of a sandwich. It's food, at any rate.

I take a large bite as I leave the kitchen. After that first mouthful I'm already feeling a lot better.

[curryjolokia]

Great. He's happy; it doesn't take much to fill his head. I don't much care about how uncharitable that might be right now; I'm pissed, and he's a simpleton.

And for some stupid reason, I care.

While he's in the kitchen getting food, I'm headed up to the crow's nest with my trumpet. I don't know how to play it, but the air's cold up there and sharp, which is what I'm in the mood for. I'll tool around and see if I can't get a few useful notes out of it.

[captainmarvelous]

I munch on my slapdash sandwich as I wander back into the main room. Basco isn't there, and for a few moments I simply don't care.

But then I think maybe I should go find him, I know I would be a tiny bit irritated if I was turned down for sex.

I head up to the Crow's Nest. If he's not up there then's he's probably in his room, and the Crow's Nest is closer.

[curryjolokia]

Na na na na nananana nrreeeekk--

Basco lowers his new trumpet with a grumble and a scowl. He fixes it with a glare that lays upon its brassy shoulders the faults of all undignified sounds in the known universe, particularly the very undignified one he just managed to produce from it. All he was trying to do was repeat one note, the same note, in a uniform manner. Was that so much to ask?

Back to the mast, Basco slides down to a crouch, then to sit, long legs folded over on themselves to allow him to sit on the small floorspace of the Crow's Nest. The wind up here is sharp, not too chilly, but after a while it begins to cut through a body, especially if that body's a breed not used to even moderately cool temperatures. Like himself.

The shawl isn't just a fashion statement. He pulls it tighter 'round his shoulders, toying with the rotating sphere mounted to the bottom of the trumpet. He hasn't found any function for it yet, but it seems to relate to the other copper and bronze-toned parts of the instrument.

It's almost like a normal brass trumpet had other bits grafted onto it, and rather than let his thoughts drift through topics he doesn't want to think about, or even know how he feels about -- examining this new shiny is the much safer option.

[captainmarvelous]

It's a warm night, with a comfortable breeze blowing. The view isn't much to look at, this system is pretty dull, but it's not the worst I've seen.

I'm already halfway through my sad excuse for a sandwich when I make it up the stairs. Basco is seated against the mast, and he seems... troubled, I guess? More moody than normal anyway.

He can't still be irritated that I turned him down. It's been, what, ten minutes already?

"Nice night." I lean on the railing as I work on finishing off my sandwich.

[curryjolokia]

He's followed me up here, and I'm not sure if I'm surprised or not.

"Hnn. Chilly." Even my afghan isn't enough, quite, and the bugle trumpet thing - for which I've been working on inventing names - is becoming painfully cold against my fingertips.

My nose tells me what he's got in his hand; I don't need to glance up. The compulsion to say something can just as easily be spent on idiotic small talk as an argument, and the former's far simpler. "You got food. That's good."

[captainmarvelous]

"It's alright." I shrug, and take another large bite from my sandwich, sort of humming vaguely while I chew.

After a heavy swallow I gesture at the instrument Basco's holding, his new little treasure. "Any luck with that thing?"

[curryjolokia]

"Oh, yeah. Figured out how to play the Zangyack Imperial Anthem, too." I pause just for a second, just long enough to hear Marvelous choke on half his bite of sandwich, and snort.

"Kidd~ing. Fssh, it's harder than it looks. But I got it t' make a note. Kind of." I shrug, tossing the thing to the floor of the crew's nest, where it hits and makes a dull ringing noise. It looks like I'm irritated but really, I just couldn't bear the cold metal against my glamour-skin any longer.

[captainmarvelous]

I watch him carefully, as I finish my sandwich, at the way he tosses the trumpet aside. His fingers look a little stiff, not something worth commenting on, but still something I note.

I flop to the floor beside him, right pressed up against his side. One of my legs is bent, the other outstretched, and I lean back against the mast with him.

"You look cold."

[curryjolokia]

It is not something I'm proud of, how fast I press my shoulder as hard as I can manage against his, how my whole body leans against his side before I even have awareness I'm moving. I don't outright grab him, gods below, but I'm pressing against his offered side from top to bottom, and he'll surely feel the cold stiffness of my skin, even through his clothes and mine both.

It's not so much that my temperature is objectively icy, by almost any measurement scale. But in comparison to my normal radiant heat, which I've been told more than once can be overwhelming even without bodily contact? I might as well be a cold-burning star.

"...Yeah," I admit, since it's obvious anyway.

[captainmarvelous]

I nod, but don't comment further. It's not something he wants to share with me, the why he's so cold on nights so warm, and so I won't pry.

I simply slide my arm around him, and guide him a little closer, and let him lean into me and draw whatever warmth he can gain from me.

Unspoken affections, nonverbal love.

Hn. Love.

[curryjolokia]

Marvelous's hug is warmer than anything else up here, least of all me, and it's a temporary comfort, a brief respite. But the cold creeps in anyway, and shortly I'm almost as uncomfortable as I was before.

After a while, I've un-grumped a bit, enough to nose against Mabe's throat, nuzzling for warmth and places for my kisses both.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" It's never an assumption with us, no matter how rare it is when we don't share a bed, either his or mine. Assuming would mean there was Something between us. Assuming regularity would mean we'd have to have a Talk about whatever that Something is.

Easier to have to find out every time. Even though a 'no' from him about this would do something to my hearts I'm not ready to find out.

[captainmarvelous]

I tilt my head so that he can nose more easily at my neck, humming low in my throat at the pleasant feel of his kisses.

"Sure," I answer with a small shrug. I could say something like 'of course', or, 'always', but that would give away more than I am willing to share with him yet.

I sit with him for a few more moment, then finally detach from him, getting to my feet and offering him a hand up.

[curryjolokia]

He swings me easily to my feet, and I'm once again reminded of the amazing strength contained in his compact frame. Not that I ever truly forget about it, but at some moments it's more obvious than others.

Such as today's battle. The only reason he took a wound was that, for that crucial moment, a Sugoumin was more agile than he was strong. It's a balance he hasn't yet perfected, but despite his age he's already a powerful fighter and when the experience of years tempers his raw strength, he'll be a fighter unlike any seen before.

Standing, the cold's even worse, and I tip against Mabe with a shudder. We're nearly the same height, and his earlobe's in easy nibbling range.

"Let's go to bed," I purr against his cheek, scraping the line of his jaw with my teeth - gentle only for the moment.

I don't want to talk about the emotion that drove me up here, or the physiology that is forcing my retreat. I don't want to talk at all, because the only time we fight with each other, not at each other, is on the battlefield, or between the sheets.

Or on the kitchen table, to be fair, but tonight I don't want to compete with the galley for his attention, or affection. I just want him.