Come Sail Away Inbox

[midnightroads]

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Please see Opt-In, as contacting Bash may interact with his Scion abilities.

Comments

[cacophonish]

[ Oh, he can do that. Dressing up pretty will help soothe some of the general insecurity and alienation that's been buzzing around his head since coming back to his body. So when he shows up, he's in a gold velvet duster jacket, over a flowy white, lacey skirt and a sheer black top. Plus markers! He's got some markers with him.

And he seems a tiny bit nervous and antsy when Bash opens the door, but of course he immediately tries to cover it up by beaming and throwing his arms around Bash. ]

Hey!

[midnightroads]

Jeff is caught, lifted and spun, because that's just what you do, right? You twirl your boy and make him feel loved.

"What's up with you, sweetheart?" His voice warm and gentle as ever.

[cacophonish]

That right there is like some instant dopamine in his brain. Is there any better feeling than being lifted and spun by Bash? Absolutely not. Jeff's laughing, clinging to him like a particularly affectionate koala.

"Mm--" He presses his face into the crook of Bash's neck, before he realizes that, like, it'll kind of muffle his words, so he looks up, looks Bash in the eyes, smiling. "I dunno, not much, I've been--" Drifting around, trying to repress his existential terror, find some purpose and meaning, stave off the feeling that he doesn't belong anywhere, blah blah blah-- "--getting back on my feet, I guess."

But! That's not why he's here. He's here for-- well, hang on, 'cause he's about to launch into the speech he's prepared.

"So I, um, I talked to Friday. I was asking her, like, if there was anything I could do to get your tattoo back--" He stops himself short and quickly adds, "Not that I would've had her do something like that without talking to you first! I wouldn't-- it's your body. But I just wanted to know if it was even possible, like, if I could give up one of my tattoos or... or trade something else, or do her a favor, I dunno. Anyway--" He grimaces. "She basically said it couldn't be done, and I dunno any tattoo artists here, but I thought it was really fucking unfair, so, um. I've been practicing drawing little things, and I was thinking, if you wanted, I could... draw a tattoo on you. And when it washes off, I could draw another. And another. Just... as a fuck you to the Captain." A beat. "Fuck! I'm such a-- I didn't even ask how you're doing!"

[midnightroads]

Bash sets Jeff down on the bed, and flops himself down beside him. "Oh, sweetheart. That's the cutest idea I've heard in a long time."

He immediately pulls his shirt off to give Jeff the choice of skin. "Make it something new, something different every time, and you've got a deal."

[cacophonish]

Thank fuck, it's not a stupid idea after all. Jeff beams, his nervousness melting away.

"Deal. But if I run out of ideas, you might end up with a dolphin riding a skateboard or something." But for now... Jeff shrugs off his coat and sets it aside, but not before pulling the markers out of his pocket. A thin black one, and a few basic colors, whatever he could find at the shops here.

As for where to put it... He avoids the right forearm, because it doesn't seem right to start at the spot the Captain took from him. Maybe one day, but right now? A new mark, in a new place.

He runs his fingers across Bash's chest, stopping over his heart. "How about here?"

[midnightroads]

Bash takes a deep breath in, lifting a hand to rest over Jeff's lightly. "Yeah. You've already marked me there, under the skin. So that's perfect. What are you going to draw?"

He feels completely at peace in this moment, his trust in Jeff absolute. For all that the boy is his, he's owned in return, completely and totally the property of Jeff Calhoun, the brightest bard on the whole ship.

[cacophonish]

He lets those words wash over him, feeling warmth and contentment as his gaze flickers back up to meet Bash's eyes. For as out of place as he's been feeling... none of that seems to matter right now. This is home. Bash is home.

"I was thinking..." He traces an outline with his finger. "A street lamp and... a sunflower growing out of the ground, like... where it's casting light."

It would be fairly simple, practically minimalist, because Jeff's not exactly practiced enough at anything complicated, and he's limited to markers, anyway, but... Hopefully the intended meaning will shine through.

Midnight roads, guiding lights, companionship on lonely nights, paired with a little symbol of sunshine. That's them, right?

[midnightroads]

"That sounds absolutely perfect. My sunblossom." He grins broadly, relaxing into the bed, pulling his hand away.

"Reminds me of that one song--'and the flower would be its offering of love, to the desert...'" Half-singing, half-murmured, quiet and a little self-conscious.

[cacophonish]

Jeff smiles as Bash begins to sing-- well, half-sing. How can he not? It's one of his favorite sounds. He straddles Bash, getting in position to draw the little design on him, the thin, fine marker hovering just over skin, as Jeff tries to figure out where to start.

"I don't think I know that one," he muses. "Can you sing it for me?"

[midnightroads]

Best to do the singing before he starts drawing, right? Bash doesn't sing too loudly, not wanting to disturb the neighbors, but he does have all the lyrics (including the bit in French) memorized.

[cacophonish]

The lyrics are sweet, and hearing Bash sing has him feeling all warm and contented... Jeff can't stop smiling. He even hums along, as he gets the feel of the song.

"I like that one. You're gonna have to teach me sometime." Though not now, because once Bash finishes the song, Jeff leans down and begins drawing. It's simple linework, so it shouldn't take too long-- certainly not as long as a real tattoo-- but he wants to take his time and do it right. So he goes slow as he marks that first straight line of the lamp post, letting Bash savor each moment that felt drags along his skin

[midnightroads]

Bash closes his eyes, relaxing as he feels the marker trace across his skin, letting it and the sound of Jeff's breathing be all he's noticing in the moment. He is at peace, he is a canvas and nothing more than that.