Between Nebulae

[Kin]

The fringes of chartered space rightfully inspire ambient paranoia. Where the Emergency Coalition's influence thinned, so did guarantees of safety. Far from the life-affirming communication networks of structured spheres of influence reigned superstition. Glimpses of the unknown haunted collective memory; chance encounters with the horror left in The Adversary's wake stained the very tapestry of fringe societies.

Odhuns' Moot was one such expanse. On the boundary of monitored space, this territory was loosely stewarded by a collective of Kharguid cadet clans. Largely considered to be the final staging ground of many pilgrims' voyage into the darkness between stars. It was a ledge; a mere step before an impossibly deep plunge into dark waters. Few returned. Fewer still aspired to go back.

What started as a shrine-outpost to Hoosny-Tenger maintained by the Iramun Clan, Split Light was now a fortress-habitat, one of the last lights before the dark. Despite its size, it cut a low profile, painted dark atop matte material. The multi-rung citadel reached up and down like probing fingers in the dark. The surprisingly low heat output, the lack of exterior lighting, all served to give Split Light a fighting chance in the great dark. There was no greater safety than to confound The Adversary's gaze.

---

The community of Split Light was a teeming society of wanderers. In its obsidian-dark corridors, one could encounter the richly embroidered carpets and canopies of Kharguid business, next to the bare-wire Human scrap and repair peddlars. Though Split Light hid in the dark, its interior was rich with the pulse of a still-thriving community. It was known for its drinks above all, with a common saying in the expanse being: "If it can't be brewed, that's just because a Splitter doesn't know about it yet.", an ode to the rich trade stemming from this part of the galactic arm. Though primarily made of Human and Kharguin wanderers of a spiritual sort, all manner of folk find their way here for one reason or another.

One such place of drink and respite was "Terranine". A favorite of Human Orange-Shrouds, the laborers and engineers, erected by the first generation of Humans visiting Odhuns' Moot. It was a place of warmth. The amber glow of computer-screens attached to communal smoking areas signaled the presence of a local Mem-Net; Humans and a few species with spinal ports alike lounging on embroidered pillows confirm this, with some display screens even providing entertainment as a result of the users' efforts. Some displayed gladiatorial combat, others seemed to show the live creation of mental art exhibits, whereas others were providing external views into what seemed to be oratory practice for public forums.

Kin sat at the bar. Usually the smaller Kharloach had guards with them, to the confusion of many. But Kin was alone, for at least now. His lagomorph legs stretched out as he found a comfortable spot on the stool, waiting for his drink. He was dressed in a fold-over composite suit that hugged his body tightly, and supported the satchel across his torso. He was already a single drink in, seemingly in the mood for trying more Human brews; things that stank of fermentation, but came in amusing colors and flavors. 'SolRise' was his favorite so far, grown in a maintenance-shaft hydroponics area, an attempt at emulating the fabled "manne'go" of Human antiquity.

By Emergency Coalition standards, Terranine was tame, if a tad eccentric. The kind of place one could spend shore leave enjoying the night away without encountering too many notables. Though intoxicants flowed by means of smoke, tablets, and drink, nothing truly crossed the line into questionable legality. Clan Iramun were lenient stewards.

And the "night" was young, especially with news of a docking ship, bringing fresh visitors enjoying either shore leave or a trip to the edge of civilized space.

[Varkhesh]

That newly docking ship that had brought its share of wanderers into the Split Light? Varkhesh Orvek was amongst them, and he was planning to take perhaps a more... relatively 'quiet' and 'orderly' visit.

His job was strenuous and with the recent changes to his position revolving a most recent incident at his old guard post, he was certainly strained to say the least, and looking for some relaxation.

Varkhesh Orvek came out that ship standing at close to two-and-a-half metres and some change, the striped Kharguin had learned long ago that entering any kind of establishment tended to announce him whether he wished for it or not. His height, combined with his body mods made him - Not exactly unique, but certainly an eye catching endeavour of purple amongst a crowd.

The colonies doorways were at least accomodating him well enough, given the Kharguid cadet clans that stewarded the area, to which he still ducked through by sheer instinct. Varkhesh Orvek had one broad hand briefly collapsing around the edge of the frame as he stepped into the amber-lit interior of this 'Terranine' he had stumbled into.

He stopped just inside, hesitantly and habitually so as the amber lighting brought his purple hues into a magenta - radiant off of his more casual scrubs and fur. One slow sweep of the Kharguin's eyes across the rooms were to take in the exits first, where might he escape if trouble came?

Then the crowd came next, eyes dangling across each and every person; to him just a possible obstacle as he squinted... Eyes lingered upon the various communal Mem-Net terminals, smoking alcoves, no doubt the tangled bodies that scattered amongst embroidered cushions and then finally the bar...

Once his ritual had been satisfied, did the tension within his shoulders ease as he made to go and order a drink. Varkhesh Orvek looked like someone who had clearly just came off duty, his equipment had been left and sent to his temporary quarters, and only his dark undersuit was left with a heavy purple utility jacket worn upon it.

It was clear that as the reinforced material clung tightly to his muscles, his hips and his knees that - Dressing lightly was a 'relative' concept for him. A compact respirator even sat against his upper back, hidden behind his utility jacket, you never know when you might need the luxury of breathing oxygen.

Perhaps to the most peculiar closeness of eyes, where his undersuit was parted down the center to reveal his chest and tone, there was partings of fur that gave away to augmentation and access ports, of which nothing about them looked particularly new, old, perhaps just like the Big Hyena himself. A certain wear to him of age and an accumulation of having to duck under too many bulkheads, too many bad shits and too many years spent carrying equipment.

Still, Terranine seemed tolerable and he was starting to grow a toothy smile to his surroundings. 'Perhaps this'll be enjoyable' a thought stirred within his head. It was warm at least, busy but... Civil...

Heave paws still making their deliberate gait to the bar, heavier than most of the clientele, digitgrade feet producing a mechanical weight against the floor with each stomp; and an empty stool not too far from the smaller Kharloach already seated nearby.

Varkhesh Orvek looked at it intently, pondering whether he should even test the craftsmanship... Instead he elected to simply rest his forearm against the edge of the bar, studying the bottles that lay upon the shelves behind the back of it.

Though something else caught his attention... His ears twitched as his eyes lay upon it. "...What is that?" a question came slowly, carried almost like there was a vague threat behind it, naturally rough and deep, and yet no threat was held, just a question. A beat passed as Varkhesh Orvek pointed towards that strange 'orange' drink, "That orange one." he squinted.

Perhaps it was aimed towards the bartender, or perhaps it was aimed towards the Kharloach, Kin.

[Kin]

Kin's head slowly turned. His oversized lop-ears were adorned and styled. There was a distinct lack of scarring on his body, though his emerald gaze remained rather confident, even in the face of the massive Hyena-strain Kharguin. His brown fur was dyed a deep sunrise orange from the lighting, and it made the contents of his glass seem to almost glow from the refraction. Slowly, he stirred the contents. It was there, that an interesting trick was revealed; the drink was comprised of two liquids of two different weights. A deep orange settled at the bottom, giving it a striking gradient was set to rest.

"They call it, 'Manne-go Solset'." Kin offers, before taking a slow sip. Kin was almost Human in stature, uncannily small. The vicissitudes of Kharloach genealogy had done its work on him, "The keeper of this place claims it came to a Sleeper in a dream. Translated by him. The color of Sol, before it was devoured."

As though to illustrate that last comment, he smoothly tipped back his drink. Perhaps showing the irony in such a kitschy drink. Something sweet, almost saccharine, inspired by the destruction of an entire solar system. Terra was never revered by the Humans, but there was still a fondness for their homestar, Sol.

Kin seemed quite at ease, without an escort. Most of the smaller folk tended to prefer groups. But Kin belonged to the Protectorate, and belonging to the Delta-strain split of his population, he never grew beyond five-foot six inches. Neither did he share the muscle growth of the Gamma-strain. Nor the robust immune system of the Baseliners. Often, his kind were assigned minders or escorts.

A nearby terminal displayed readouts from a shared dream on the Mem-Net. A competition set on an idealized Rattakari Paradise-Hab. Sensations and imagery became proper scenes, interpreted and produced even with pleasant camera angles. Its popularity within the local Mem-Net even had some of the singers displayed in strange, wave-like pointelle holograms through the main emitter.

Humans were fond of cabaret.

"I would suggest it. The drink." Kin murmurs, as he places his emptied glass atop the bar. A wave of orders had distracted the bartender, but it seemed that she lucked out, in having someone answer Varkhesh's question, "There might be a bit of truth to that Dreamer rumor. It tastes... Well. Unlike many things I've had before."

The femme even gave a light smile.

[Varkhesh]

Varkhesh's ears give the most smallest of twitches and his muzzle straightens out as the answer came from elsewhere, the one who had such a drink themself, originating from far lower than he had even expected, on such a diminuitive form compared to his own. His attention was directed to that voice, towards Kin.

Eyes followed.
Down.
Down...
And then even a little further down.
Finally they sat upon the Kharloach.

While he may not have expected to be so straight talked by someone of their size, race, and without their chaperones - It wasn't what had caught the mans attention first, if at all. He'd spent enough times amongst mixed crews and sizes that had been nothing more than a mortal enemy against furniture manufacturers at this point. Rather it was very much that complete lack of hesitation from Kin. Not even a nervous glance?

He loomed over the Kharloach briefly, unique to him as he'd usually have prisoners not wanting to be anywhere near him, let alone talk to him. He liked that. "...Manne-go Solset." he uttered out slowly in his repeat, comitting it to memory? Judging it? Testing whether saying it out aloud made it appear less strange or less peculiar than it was? He listened closely with intent as the explanation bore in from the Kharloach after its name.

"Grim history for something of that colour." with a faint pull of a corner from his muzzle, not quite a smile but near threatening to become one, "I will have two of these Manne-Go Solsets, one for myself and another for my new friend here." he'd state to the bartender while thumbing over to Kin. As the Kharloach finishing off the drink was sufficient evidence that it was good, especially devouring it in such one quick go.

"An interesting story, not that I know anything of this 'Sol', an era of the past, and something I think should be kept there and not burried up. But I sense you don't quite think the same way, mhmm?" the Kharguin did question quite openly, waiting for his drink. Upon its arrival the Kharguin's hand did dwarf it near three times over, his large palm couldn't keep it for drinking, instead having to go betwixt his fingers in an awkward manner.

He eyed the peculiar drink, watching as the orange liquid swayed within his glass, he tilted it to and fro, gave it a swirl to mix in the colours and then - His jaw snapped open, drool lingering from his teeth before the drink came rushing down his gullet and down his throat. Thick audible gulps lined the bar counter as he downed it as quickly as he got it. "Sweet..." he lingered on the word as his eyes trained back to the Kharloach, almost like a prey on predator as he came to keep a judgeful eye on them; such a curious one.

"I don't exactly dislike it, but I do enjoy something I can palm a bit more hardier, something which flavour won't break too soon - What might you recommend for that?" he would ask, head tilting, and a toothy smile finally escaped him afterwards. "And perhaps one of your interesting stories to go with it."

[Kin]

It was only then that Kin truly drank in the sight of Varkhesh. The man cut a very appealing figure. The undersuit made it hard for the eyes to rest on anything that wasn't pleasing, after all. Kin folded a leg over his lap as he considered the far larger Kharguin. Heavy-lashed eyes half-lidded, as the violet hyenid reflected within his irises. There was no room for bashfulness in Kin's veins. It was simply not his nature, at least, not in places like this. Threshold places like Terranine always brought out this part of him.

"Some humans called Sol 'The Cradle'." Kin spoke smoothly through oil-slick black painted lips, "A part of them must have understood, in some way, that it would become a shared memory; like childhood, reminisced, but never revisited."

'Some humans'. Sleepers. The cryostatic oracles who commune through the shared hallucination of a command line. The opinions of dreamers interested him far more than those of the waking. But, such was an academic interest. A professional pursuit.

This was a personal encounter.

"But, the stories do not compare to how it looks close to your fur." A compliment flows through Kin's lips like water, "Your augmentations are beautiful." With all the confidence of man flirting with a dragon, Kin's lips form into a formal, yet slightly roguish smile. A slow wink, before he raises the drink he received from Varkhesh in toast, "To handsome company, and fruitful beginnings."

"Ah..." Kin merely drank halfway through his glass. A formidable task for a Kharloach his size. He was not the genetic strain that used combat stims for caf, after all, "Do mind," Came the offhanded warning, "Human drinks can be deceptive."

A wink crosses his eyes before he considers the question, "A drink with a story," He theatrically hummed, leaning back a bit as he looked at the Human-Kharguin pigdin on the wall, "Full-bodied, and... Palmable." His eyes flash over to Varkshesh and linger onto him, just a bit longer. There was a joke that hung in the air. One communicated with a cheeky raise of the eyebrow at the man. Varkhesh was the full-bodied, palmable, refreshing drink.

But of course, ever the professional, he wouldn't say it directly. The implication pulled the heavy lifting here.

"Caladynn, if you wish for a drink like a Kharguin monk. Some say those who drink of it deeply are destined for... Interesting, lives." Kin traces a slender finger along the rim of his class. Condensation beading against the glass. Darkly colored, deeply staining lipstick tracing a thin circle around the rim, "Some say that the local Odhun drink of it and have the most pleasant visions. If you believe the stories, some say that the founding monks of this Habitat imbibed deeply when selecting the staging ground."

"Or, if you're feeling particularly... In-tune with your body," His smile turns more intruiged, he gestures further down. A more organic looking script. Even as a printed font, it almost looks handwritten, "A local Nayadim cluster formulated something to aide in metamorphosis. What they didn't expect, was that it was an intoxicant." A glint of pearly teeth form in his smile, "It is credited with population booms in this sector. And I must say, it has earned its reputation."

[Varkhesh]

Varkhesh's ears flicked once at the compliment upon his augmentations, his fur and purple skinned thin spots were something that he could easily accept as something he kept nicely trimmed and shampoo'd - But the augmentations? The comment on those left him with quite the brief pause.

It caused him to gaze down with a dip of his maw and eyes to look at the exposed ports amongst the skin of his chest and the fur that spreads further out from there, towards the traces of old hardware that begun ti dissapear beneath his reinforced and tight undersuit.

They had all been certainly necessary, called as much, called as expensive and troublesome and often even 'overdue for servicing' in equal measure over the years.

But beautiful? His lips let out a slight audible smack as he wet them in preperation, "Beautiful?" he repeated it, almost suspiciously so as he gazed at the femme before him; before his muzzle began to lift in actual reply. "Almost anyone that's ever shown any interest in those old things were carrying all manner of tools and ports and scanners, trying to tell me which part was going to become expensive next to repair."

A thick claw tapped briefly beside an exposed port that the undersuit wasn't attached to, "Reminds me of the story about the CSV Palimpsest... A generational ship, that over three centuries had its hulls replaced, its engines, reactors, computers, habituation cylinders - Even it's structural spine. Until at some point, nothing of the Palimpsest was its original piece."

Varkhesh chuckled briefly at the end of that, "I feel more in common with the Palimpsest, sometimes I wonder what's left of the Kharguin I once was." he let's out a dry rumble of his throat that started deep within his chest that echoed out into the bar as he thought on what else that Kin had made mention of, their latest story - Which drink to choose.

Kin's attention on the man however was rather difficult to misunderstand at that point. Varkhesh watched those black-painted lips curl into that rogueish smile, the wink, the glass in answer to a toast that looked almost comically delicate between his fingers. That rolling rumble somewhere beneath his chest slowly became a hum into a chuckle. "I can drink to that." he'd retort, as his own glass met the counter with a deliberate clack and he settled comfortably against the bar.

A broad forearm came to rest awfully close to Kin's stool, not quite enclosing upon the smaller Kharloach but certainly making their difference in size impossible to ignore as he lumbered above them. "Deceptive would have to be the right word for these drinks, tasting as if someone dissolved confectionery into hydraulic coolant, mhmm? his tongue passed over a large canine within his larger still maw, "I was considering another three, but..." then the recommendations came.

"Here to offer me the difference between a spiritual revelation and a biological adventure within only a few minutes of meeting me..." his muzzle opening into a broad, toothy smile, "Most people begin with something far more safe around me." he'd exclaim, "Clearly someone who prefers to skip that part and go straight into business, mhmm?" his tongue rolled over at the end, it should have even sounded disapproving coming from a man like Varkhesh.

And yet it very much did not.

Varkhesh seems to order the both of them, clearly he was here to experience a particularly entertaining night, they came quick and they came heavy, even the Kin was sent their share of the drinks.

"And I wonder what happens if I chase the Caladynn, with this 'Nayadim cluster' drink, mhmm?" and so he did.

He was particularly glad to have gotten a drink that happily fit within his hands, made for Kharguin, that he didn't have to pinch between his fingertips. And so, that 'Nayadim cluster' drink was dropped straight into the Caladynn, and quite palmy indeed - He'd begin to pour it right down his gullet.

Half way though, he'd pause and lower the drink with a heavy sigh of air and a thump of his meaty chest.

"Are you awaiting permission, mhmm?" his eyes lingered upon Kin, eyes going up and down the femmes form, the Kharguins muscles bulging under the undersuit as he flexes his arms and legs; almost as if he was trying to pump that drink through him faster, or perhaps put on a show - Who could really tell?

But his pecs were near pushing out from underneath his undersuit, threatening to escape and reveal more, the zipper slowly tugging down...

"I think I like the way you tell stories. Particularly the ones you expect me to work out for myself."

[Kin]

"Nothing of a life of worth can return to what it once was." The words rolled off of Kin's tongue, revealing just a hint of an Outer Sphere accent, "Change is the nature of all things. When the Nayadim provided the answer to the linear shape, there were a great many that would look into any mirror and no longer see who they once were." Kin rests his palm over what remained of the Solset. The alcohol processing in his system. And yet... He was not yet tipsy. His eyes were casually focused, a distinct clarity of sight. Surely, a man of his size should be feeling the burn by now? There is only so much a single liver can do, "You have changed. Are changing. Will change. Just like the Palimpset, you remain in spite of the parts changed. Because they are only in part, you."

He rested his drink on the table after the toast. Yet, the water volume did not move as much as expected. Instead, something truly strange happened: like a magician's trick, the fluid that remains does not seem to be the same that was drank. It was drained of its red value. Completely. Down to the base color of the drink itself, which almost made the heavier fluid at the bottom look... Gray. The rest, almost inverted.

It had just gotten warm enough in Kin's body that he slowly began to shrug off his wrap-around jacket. The heavy material folding in an almost luxurious way, as its patterned insides now remained in full view. It was an odd design. Something that would most certainly not be what most people are looking for, to place against their skin. But as Kin revealed more of his body, it seemed pretty clear why it might not matter; beneath, Kin was wearing what appeared to be a plug suit. It had texturing along the hip-vents and waist that mirrored the interior of the coat. A simple trick to keep anything from moving on the entirety of the ensemble, as well as providing... An easy means of gripping something so skin-tight and shiny. He wore it like a second-skin.

"If there is one thing I have learned," Kin lets out a sigh of relaxation, rolling his narrow shoulders. His abdomen positively cinched, when compared to the rest of his body, "Is that life slips by the demure. Can I truly be faulted, for not wishing our meeting to slip by?" He paired that statement with a heavy-lashed wink. An amused little chuckle. He was enjoying playing into the game that Varkhesh proposed. He enjoyed teasing.

Those green eyes settled, just for a moment, on Varkhesh's chest, as he began putting on that 'show'. Using the back of one of his knuckles, he mirrored Varkhesh's body freeing itself. His own plug-suit had no zippers. It was so easily undone, that all it took was the correct movement upon it. And slowly, Kin revealed himself down to the bottom of his sternum.

In truth, Kin couldn't read the text used for the Naiad drink. He knew of its reputation, not its name. But, as it's delivered, in conjunction with the more experimental of Kharguin libations, he takes a deep drink. First, of the Cluster's intoxicant.

It was an organic catalyst. Something that can be tasted as it's drank. Something that forms a pleasant, smooth membrane over nerves. Easily washed, but the pleasant sensation it brings seeps into the body. Even just a drink, one could feel their body welcoming it. A familiar, warm sensation as it slides easily through membranes and caresses nervous clusters. In some, small way, it worked to make the body more compatible with itself. It had no instructions to metamorphize; neither Kin or Varkhesh were Naid, so it merely traversed, pleasantly, through their shared senses.

Kin reached up a thumb to Varkhesh's lip, sliding along a residual of both his drinks. Before bringing it to his own. Giving the shared fluids a taste, before letting out a breath; soon, he reached for the glass of caladynn.

Acidic, and potent. It had lineage with a dessert wine. The taste eludes, but in conjunction with the Naiad brew, the sensation seemed to almost slip between tastes. Something that coated the mouth and throat, something whose deep scent stained up the nasal cavity. The alcoholic burn almost having a mint-like effect as it leaves behind echoes. Kin, allowing this mixture to slide in his mouth, pulled Varkhesh to him by the zipper.

And his lips parted. A shared, alcoholic kiss offered. The tang of liquor still coating his mouth and painted lips. Forward. Confident. But slow, letting the Kharguin consider the moment. And by no means force.

[Varkhesh]

Varkhesh listened intently without any sign of interrupting, those words about change begun to settle somewhere deeper than the teasing had as his eyes remained warily upon Kin as the Kharloach spoke of mirrors and people not recognising what they saw.

The Kharguin had spent many a day looking into the mirror and no longer seeing who they once were, especially after his most recent workplace before his dismissal and new position aboard a station that was weird and peculiar as any.

His expresion softened with a begrudged him as his gaze dropped towards the exposed portions of his body again. All those ports, old scars that were hidden beneath fur, pieces of himself that had been removed and something else installed in its place until the distinction between original and replacement had now became almost meaningless.

That story of the Palimpset, the talk of the Nayadim, a quiet breath escaped him somewhere deep between a laugh and a sigh. No biterness within it as he says, "Quite a thing to say... I suppose you're right." as his eyes slowly rolled upwards to return pointedly upon Kin.

Kin, who was now shedding the outer layer of their clothing, like how a spider might shed and molt their exoskeleton. Was Kin the prey here? Maybe the Kharloach was the one that had the Kharguin right where they wanted instead, their behaviour, their words, certainly seemed more practiced than anything that Varkhesh had said or done.

His ears fluttered, and so did his eyes, there was perhaps even a brief moment where his eyes glanced away - Only to become entranced into a stare. Perhaps that spider had caught him in a web, as the enormous Kharguin simply begun to watch with a frank curiosity, as he sipped upon what remained of his drink; enjoying the show with clinical interest.

He had finally realised now, just how deliberately Kin had been playing this little game between them.

His Muzzle curled, he breathed out slowly through his nose - And slowly the drink, or the night and its company begun to take its effects.

First he froze as a thumb brushed against his lip, not out of fear, but because it had been a long time since someone had done something like that to him; his eyes dropped to watch the thumb as it withdrew before rising back to see the Kharloach's eyes.

A pause, elongaed, a tensional release of a sigh, and as his zipper was caught and tugged; it didn't take Varkhesh long to move forward and into that kiss. He didn't need to consider it, the Kharguin had his maw upon the Kharloach in short fashion, and his clawed hand resting upon the top of Kin's seat.

A clawed hand that likely dwarfed both the seat, and Kin's shoulder.

And then another pause, as they pulled away, perhaps a bit of spittle was the only thing that stringed and connected them after such; until his hand slowly settled against Kin's side as it slipped and slithered down the Kharloach's shoulder and down their side, all to rest upon their hip - and pause.

"That is certainly one way to get comfortable..." his chest begun to rumble. "It's almost as if you were waiting exactly for this moment... Do you even enjoy these drinks, or did you recommend them because you knew you'd enjoy what came afterwards?" he thrummed before Kin and lowered himself with an intent that kept his maw close to the Kharloachs.

"I should warn you, I have spent most of my life dealing with people who thought they could get me to do what they wanted..." he teased between a toothy grin. His voice had lowered now, that naturally deep rumble carrying far less of a professional severity and more of an... Animalistic posession."And I've become rather good at telling the difference between someone giving me an order..."

His thumb shifted slightly against Kin's hip, the movement rather absent-minded, a bit forceful, as his eyes remained fixed upon the smaller Kharloach."And someone asking nicely."

A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest, the sound vibrating beneath synthetic muscle and hardware that Kin had been admiring, "And I think you're doing a poor job of asking..." he makes in reference of the Kharloach taking his zipper, kissing him, and otherwise luring him in like a spider to their web.

But now the snake was ready to strike - "Though I suppose I can't complain about the results, but just how in control are you here, without your guards?" he thrummed, that clawed hand gently dug into the Kharloach; though if it were truly a threat or a play for violence he would have already known. No, he was returning the play on that silent game between them, that same silent question that had been posed to him from the very moment that Kin first turned those eyes of theirs upon him.

For all the size and strength behind the gesture, there was something quite playful about it.

And Varkhesh knew exactly what he was doing now.

[Kin]

Varkhesh joined Kin's kiss. A soft-pawed hand traced along the man's jawline, still slick with the liquor he wiped from Varkhesh's lips. Slowly, the Kharloach allowed his hands to trace down. Sending pinpricks of sensitive signals own Varkhesh's body. Down from the jawline, tracing along the shoulders, before following the neck down onto the clavicle. The twinned drinks the two shared were now imprinted upon their tongues and shared. An adventurous mixture of a monk's brew, and a metamorphizing liquid that seemed to almost form a wet layer atop nerve cells in their mouths, down their throats.

Those hands traveled along Varkhesh's chest, giving glancing touches along the ports and segmentation of his augmented body. Nothing as libertine as an outright grope, but most certainly not chaste. The Nayadim mixture seemed to refresh the sensorium between them. Each taste felt... New. That most unfortunate dullness of sensation after years of taste began to slowly unravel. They could taste the potency of the Kharguin brew. The fighter fuel potency of it. The crispness of the fruits beneath, and the dizzying touch of sweetness buried into the undercurrent. Not quite a drug. Not quite liquor.

By the time that Kin pulled back, to let the man speak, there was only a hair's breadth of space between their lips. As Varkhesh spoke, Kin could taste the mixture upon his lips, as well as his natural scent. Saliva joined their tongues in a bridge. Their senses were spiked. Colors began to look more vibrant. Sharper, even. Their bodies processing a drink that bypassed their liver and stomach. As though the sensorium of their nervous system was slowly waking up after a long nap.

Kin moved forward at Varkhesh's presumption. Instead of sitting on his own seat and making the larger man lean in to him, he decided to bring his affection to bear on the Kharguin's leg. Broaching that last vestige of personal space. He kept his lips equidistant to Varkhesh's. Letting him speak his fill, as he straddled the man's leg. Kin slowly pulled down the man's zipper on his bodysuit. Letting the man's body breathe a bit, without violating the social contract of a public space. His lithe body, his nimble fingers, made his poised movements almost fluid-like in grace.

Varkesh's gaze is brought down, as Kin lightly pinched his chin. Keeping direct eye contact with those peridot-greens. Was it the influence of the Naiad drink, or were those hues really shifting between such pleasing greens as those pupils expanded?

Entrancement. Ensorcelling. There were many words for the dangers of a look or a gaze. To the sectors belonging to the core of the Coalition's influence, these were evidence of frontier superstition. And yet, one could be forgiven for almost believing the stories. Of locking eyes with pilots of a ghostly beauty in the deep dark. Of losing it all, at the suggestion of a particularly charming casino-worker that no-one seemed to fully remember. Groundside spirits that lingered by lakes, offering a wash in exchange for offerings.

The Mirror was thin here. That membrane between consensus and the arcane. Kin could tap into those mysteries, beyond a mere color-show-- But he was too in-control for that. The allure of anything grander than a parlor trick eluded him, for it would not be right. Not without Varkhesh's knowing.

"And if I told you, that the guards chaperoning my kindred, are not solely for our protection?" Kin formed a cheeky smirk. Something that no-one in their right mind would believe, given the weakness of his so-called kindred's bodies, but the truth nonetheless, "I do not need to be in control. You're being such a good boy for me. Aren't you?"

The hand that wasn't lowering Varkhesh's zipper soon found its way up to the side of his face. Kin cupped the larger man's cheek, from his chin. The amount of eye-contact Kin could hold while this close was almost transfixing. There was a rising desire to show Varkhesh something special. Something that made the peridot pigments of his eyes refract into emerald, almost like chromatic aberration in softness. A breath escapes his lips, before he presses a small, teasing peck onto Varkhesh's lips.

"Do you want to experience a secret?"