abyssdressing | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[ Remaining idle has never been one of Asch's strong points at any time in his life, so it should come as no surprise that he would find a way to spend his spare time doing something productive. As of late you might have seen the winged original bustling about hither and tither, to and fro, and even yonder as he transported -- among other things -- a great many boxes, several types of food, and a boatload of furniture. All this was being taken in the direction of a city located near the ocean's shoreline, to an outdoor cafe that would give a hole in the wall a bad name.

Only one small (if tasty-smelling) box remains to be taken from the apartments to said cafe. You're free to catch him anywhere along the way, with his hair neatly braided and sporting a spotless, ruffle-free apron. Mock at your own risk, drecks. ]

[ooc: My internet is being a wonky POS, so replies might be sporadic. D:]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For being free of the Score, you do attract an extraordinary amount of trouble. [ His voice comes out quieter than it should for only being muffled against the crook of Luke's neck, in addition to having a minor quaver towards the end. And Asch the Bloody does not falter in the face of insignificant details such as unnatural deformities. :| ]

Natural talent. [Shifts, carefully laying on his side and trying to get Asch to look at him.] ...hey.

[ Turns to face the opposite direction; he's not having any of that while mulling over things. ] ...a mutation? Side affect from the replication-- no, not possible. Though with the lack of fonons...

[Any of what, exactly? We're just making sure you're okay. Sits up a little with a slight struggle, grunting.] What're you rambling about...?

[ "Okay" is a subjective term here, given that we're a mite too busy fumbling for the familiar notebook to hear you talking. ] Where is-- ah, there. Pencil. Pencil... Damn thing, where'd you go...

[Pulls a pen out of his back pocket and offers it, watching him with vague interest.]

[ Plucks the writing implement out of his hand upon spotting it and sets right to jotting down various notes in a fluid, if hasty, scrawl. ] Without them to act as a binding material it could theoretically be possible...

[Looks from Asch to the notepad and back a few times, eventually folding and laying on his stomach, closing his eyes over.]

[ Continues writing for another minute or so, then abruptly runs a finger over one of Luke's injuries, noting the reaction on paper. ] Responds to outside stimulus...

[Flinches and is very suddenly awake and a few inches away, puffed and not even entirely conscious, it seems.] ... [After a few seconds he relaxes and sits with a somewhat hangdog expresison.] You're picking on me, I swear.

[ Hardly seems to notice the replica scurrying away from his touch, what with him flipping between pages. Both eyebrows quirk up several beats after Luke's statement, though it could've been coincidence, as his response comes even further after that in a faraway sort of tone. ] ...why would I pick on you?

[Grumbles and lays on his stomach again, though staying far enough away from Asch to be out of reach.]

[ Pauses in his work to glance over, tapping pen against paper. ] ...that can't be comfortable. Are you not able to sleep on your backside since those injuries appeared?

[Mumbles at the floor.] I usually sleep on my side or my stomach anyway, but I can if they're not acting up or being agitated by prodding fingers.

[ Scoots over to sit beside him again and pet lower on his back. ] Then try not to let people touch them.

[Smacks his head against the floor a little.] I was, you were the one that kept poking at them.

I only did so once, you know. [ Sets the paper and pen aside, drawing Luke up into his lap for a kiss. ]

[Grumbles, but allows this.] Twice.

Don't exaggerate. [ Returns to burying his face against him. ]

'm not. [Frowns.]

You are so. [ Not that he sounds bothered by it. ]

You were just too busy taking notes on me. [Grunts a little, moving to get up.] ...need painkillers.

I wasn't taking notes on you. Just your new addition. [ Offers him a hand for support and moves to follow. ] I have gels.

Which are unfortunately a part of me, so you were taking notes on-- [Fumbles and crashes back to his knees with a startled cry. His back sort of pulsates ominously at the sudden shift, but the wings stay put. This just results in Luke doubling over in pain.] Things are fucking hypersensitive.

That doesn't mean I'm treating you li-- Luke--! [ Grabs onto his upper arm tightly in a failed rescue attempt, ending up back down on the ground beside him. ] To what, though? The manner in which they react doesn't seem to be consistent...