December 20, 2002
.12.20.02. - take me there [harlequin sinclair]

[atlantic city boardwalk, steel pier]

(harlequin)
*hes down on the sand dragging a short stick through the nearly frozen surface. feet barely able to make a mark. not a sound. straight as he can make it on the level surface revealed by the low tide. finally he stops turning back looking at it frowning ever so slightly. would rather a rope should look at figuring out a way of hanging one in the den. for now though one must keep skills honed and that means practice. standing at the end of the line he removes the long coat that covered him before this and takes a step, body flowing into a cartwheel 2 3 four another step stop balance turn liquid grace and impecable movement. hates practicing down like this but sometimes one does what they must. a few backwards is followed by a hand stand then falls into a nother cartwheel and finally a sequence of backflips and roundoffs. each hand print every footprint falling perfectly upon the line.*

(nakhti)
it is the clarity of weather's chill that had drawn him out, drawn him down, drawn him towards the Boardwalk from his own warm safe haven in the upper reaches of the state, perhaps it is something in the wind, perhaps it was somethign that was brought to startling conscience in the freezing weather, something that each breath of fogged air would wash across in moist caress before suddenly revealing what the stage's curtain had held from captive audience for so long

whatever it is, it has brought him to the Boardwalk, past the casinos, past the fair rides, past the chilled carnies in their stalls, past everything and out onto the steel pier

he had watched the ocean, the murky hazel eyes held silent conversation with the ebb and swell of the waves passing towards shore, as if to disagree and relate on whatever it was that passed through the quiet young man's mind, but now? now he heads back towards the shore, towards the Boardwalk proper, towards the relative humility of house and home

his breath steams thick before him, slender hands drawn into the warmth of wool coat's pockets, the gray scarf hugs affectionately beneath waves of dark, inky hair - but there is something, there is always something that catches the whipfire hungry attention, some menial prey of which the predator chases, pounces, and consumes - and it is this something that now spins and twists upon the frosted sands, it draws the man to a halt just within the barrier of the rail

one gloved hand pulls from the pocket, fingers curled fetally away from the sudden onslaught of chilled air, but they are forced to face the open night once more, his hand extending to lay, quietly, upon the rail as he, quietly, watches the midnight acrobatics performed below

(harl)
*some people loose themselves in meditation in ti chi or yoga, some jog or run walk or swim, some find a comfy couch and a book, others a drink, for harlequin it is his routine.

the thing which for most of his life defined who he was. while he preforms his tricks the falls and tumbles the steps the turns each one upon that line his minds eye lifts him to heights unkown the only solid thing the cable beneath his feet, the line in the sand. his eyes pciking it out easily in the moonlight haze, making it look like a scar of silver, yet something suggests the easy confidence of his movememts lends the feel that he could do this with his eyes closed. and does for part of it. if it wasnt for the extreme movement the heat his body creates fromthe exercise he would probably freeze in a moment hands bare feet in nohing more than a pair of dance slippers. his clothing the thin black silk he favors so much. yet even here under the cold light of the moon and the harsh night air he builds up a sweat and eventually he must come to a stop a line of tricks flowing the entire length of his imaginary highwire. and he stops. turning to gaze up upon seline bowing to her as he would an audience. then bowing deeper to pay his respects. a smile creeping across his face even as he starts to shiver. moving back towards the abandoned backpack and coat laying on the beach not far away. *

(nakhti)
he watches, he recognizes, and a small smile begins to curl the corners of lips, the barest ghost of memory brought forth by the agile yet powerful movements across the sand, the inborn confidence which guides and glides down the imaginary cable, he watches the steam that builds and boils off the body's exertion, he watches the waves as they race foreward on the sand in audience attempts to touch the feet of their idol, so much more, he sees, than the man performing his routine on the sand for the stars and Seline alone

or so he thinks

there is a parallel to their movements, one is hunter, one is prey, and the line between so invisable, so delicate, that so often it is crossed, gloved fingertips trail over the railing that they pass in absent caress, following the acrobat, but not yet drawing near

(harl)
*he is quick to change the light weight shoes for his old beat up docs. the boots laced half way to the knee. stopping for a moment to wiggle toes in the cold leather confines before he bends down to retreive the rest of his goods from the pack. a flash of gold in the pale moon light reveals the chain and ankh before it is paced around his neck dissapearing beneath the black folds of material a knife tucked almost casually into the boottop and finally a pair of fingerless gloves pulled in delicatly. the bag again abandoned to the ground as he slips into the long coat folds of charcoal grey material flowing like a frozen waterfall around his body. rubbing at his arms he trys to return warmth into his body even as he watches it flow away in clouds of misted breath pulled low over his head. trapping misted breath

he dones the hood of the coat last pulling it low over his face trapping whitebreath against the material.

he seems to grow as he does this as if by virtue of the coat he has gained extra hight, his body shimmering ever so slightly in the moonlight as if a wave passsed deep within the confines of the grey coat. a trick of the light is all as shadow passing in front of the moon one could be easily mistaken the distance just making him look smaller than he really was and now burried deep within that coat it is hard to judge his height at all.

grabbing the back head down he begins to make his way up towards the boardwalk. hunter in motion like a prowl, the leap made easy by elongated muscles as he pulls himself over the railing head bent low as he begins to walk away. only to pause once again. tasting the air.*

(nakhti)
there are stairs that connect the boardwalk and the beach, sculpted concrete that have been worn and shaped by the passage of countless feet and countless winds, sandlblasted until pockmarked and round; at the top they bear semblance to the organized structure of the pier, the single angles that stand a proud and clean ninety degrees from each other, a declaration that appeals to the technological grind of Casinos above; and then there are the steps further down, caught bewteen the words, both sharp and smooth, marked and innocent, dusted in the sands that have ventured from the safety of the beath; and below, the rounded steps which soon nestle, forgotten beneath the tiny dunes, whatever secrets they once knew are hidden beneath the cover of a thousand crystaline grains

it is at the top of these stairs that he has stopped, and stands, the weight of his shoulders proud beneath the thick black wool, his chin held firm against the ocean's chilling winds and the flush they raise across dusky cheeks, the tickle and torture of hair that escapes to dance and place about his ears and brow

there is a slow, languid blink against the biting winds

but still he stands, that single, slender hand poised above the railing, touched only by the barest tips to keep the iron's freeze from crawling up his arm, elsewhere he could be a King, elsetime he could be a Pharoah, those marbled eyes staring not over a Jersey beach but instead the rolling dunes that border the raging, murky Nile, the dark lashes about his eyes the coal black lines that mark the exotic royalty above and beyond the common peasent, easily he could have stood in the most respected of courts within the most powerful of empires building the monuments withstanding the tests of Gobi time

but now..... now he stands at the top of the stairs, watching the young man taste the air

(harl)
*a smile spreads across his face as he breathes in yet again dragging scent and smell deep into his lungs savoring for a moment the crisp bite of the frozen air thew tang of salt the distant smell of carnival. but no that which has him smiling is the newest of whispers the smell carried on an erant breeze one that awakens sensory memories and causes flames to rise unbidden through his body.

turnning ever so slowly to face into the wind dark eyes stare out from the shadows burried deep within the hood a lip curls back a whisker twitches ever so slightly. as the not quite man glides towards his newfound prey.

standing there on the edge the world of salt and sand seperated from the world of man by only a single set of stairs he looks like some god or king, one that should be worshiped, one he would happily worship. that smile grows to a grin. as the towering form seems to flow towards the man who stands like a king lording it over his court. his voice a bare whisper as it passes between sharp teeth a blend of purrr and growl a single name stretched out into eternity as if to taste it capture it and enjoy it. a moment of the forever that lasts not long enough* "Nakhti."

(nakhti)
there is a change in his expression, a warmth that battles against the chilling winds, a sound that would, should, make its way from his chest, but it cannot and does not - the man, the boy, the soothsayer and the King merely waits upon his throne of steps, he waits for the not-quite-man to rise these separating steps until standing, now, just before him, just at the threshold of the natural and man-made worlds, just at the treshold of all the wonders each could grant the other

even after the word, that silent, whispered, purring word, the moment of forever that's never enough spans longer into the expectant silence between them

and it is then, only then, that the expression is allowed to linger, allowed to grow, the faintest of smiles beginning it's ghostly journey across wind-flushed lips, sparking the movement in his arm as outstretched hand draws back and lifts, glove reaching into the shadows of the hood, fingers widening the space between them once again as tips brush so lightly the sharp tips of sensitive whiskers (harlequin)

(harl)
*he swoons knees buckling ever so slightly the geasture more powerful than any carress his sensory perception swimming. his body shimmers shrinks ever so slightly the coat moving to adjust his new height the whiskers gone the cheekbones less accentuated his teeth less sharp his eyes less intense. well at least not that stormy grey now just chocolate and black. his smile grows though as he rolls against the hand that now touches his cheek. finally moving that last step arms snaking out to wrap slowly around the others waist*

"hello to you too" *his smile says hes happy to see you so do other things but the smile is all ya can see fortunatly.* "where you watching?"

(nakti)
how intimately hazel eyes say he knows the reaction that is beneath the cloak, and how intimately his smile flexes and spreads to say that is what he intended, the cool fabric of glove warming against the smooth curve of cheek, cupped to soon slide that single arm around Harl's neck, some latent cobra slung across the tops of his shoulders in lazy confidence - his other hand still buried in woolen coat's pocket

those eyes flick towards the sand in the other world, towards the sea that mourns the display has ended, towards the stars that wink a promise of hopeful return, towards that illusionary wire being washed from the sands - and then, just as smoothly, his attention has returned again (yes)

(harl)
*its the warmth, he keeps telling himself as he keeps lessening the distance between the two till it is non existant you just want to warm up. sure pressed up against the others body heat trapped between them he leans down ever so slightly resting his head on the other mans shoulder, the whisper for his ear alone.* was i any good?

(nakhti)
it is for the warmth

it is for the warmth that he allows the other to move close, the sweat-drying chill that must suddenly be clinging to the strong frame and allowing Winter's fingers to slowly find their way across skin, it is for the desert heat that must cling to his own form for which he permits Harlequin to curl so close, gloved hand sliding up the back of his neck to hold the head on his shoulder, to let gloved fingers wander through hair as the hood has fallen away (it's safe now), as if the simple act of breathing alone could instill once more the bodyheat within acrobatic frame

yes, it must be for the warmth
yes, it must be because he was good

(harl)
*ok so maybe it was also for that close skin to skin contact.warm breath on the side of the neck a flickering of tongue as he finds it to hard to resist touch taste. and again he rubs his cheek up against the others scent marking him burrying face deep in the hair behind his ear inhaling the taste and smell of him relishing it. only to sigh as again rests his head agianst his shoulder.* "its cold out tonight."

(nakhti)
jaw tilts upwards, stretching the skin against which Harleqiun rubs, as if the act alone would further spread the oiled scents between them, the glands that lay hidden beneath the armor of soft skin, mixing the essence of their very beings in the warm musk in the chilled night air, he does nothing to move away from the seeking cling, he does nothing to stop the comfort of two bodies so suddenly alone between their worlds, along on the boardwalk; simply because they ignore everything else

soon his face tucks down again, after that languid rub, lips so close but never touching the thin skin between pulse and ear, parting on exhale, bestowing moist and heated gift to combat the night's freeze (yes)

(harl)
*there are moments in which he wishes the other could talk,, yet is reluctant to break the silence with his own voice. it is in the quiet that what they really mean to say is spoken a conversation felt not heard a common language anyone can speak with but a touch, a secret language that can be shared with only one other. he trys not to purrr feeling sad and strange about it while held and holding nakhti.

finally he breaks the silence shattering the silent communication, yet clearing it at the same time

i am glad it was you who was watching, glad it was you who found me" even if you wernt out looking for him specifically still you did find him*

(nakhti)
it is then his head pulls back, it is after the silence of body language is broken that he lifts away from this affectionate curl and strives to find the other's eyes, and it is the tender touch of gloved hand that brings that gaze to his (yes, i found you) poetry in a slow blink, a world shifts in the tilt of shoulders, finger draw a slow line in their trace of jaw (but now what am i doing to do with you) in silent ponderance, as if the Pharoah were contemplating what he saw in the heart of a midnight sapphire

(harl)
*eyes the colour of expensive dark chocolate that almost black study you back with the same intensity. who is predator and who is prey in this little tangle of limbs and heat. his smile grows though as he can think of one or 2 things to do with nakhti.*

(nakhti)
predator, prey, the tangled symboisis of limbs and warmth and things that have gone unsaid, and as that smile grows it is mirrored, the faint expressions that speak a thousand words and of places that will only be touched in the darkes shadows of the night (oh?) there seems to be a question there, an invitation, and perhaps even a challenge in the almost expression, fingers reach to trace that smile, with the tender touch that before tantalized the expressive spread of whiskers hidden beneath hood, there's a cant of jaw that speaks of arrogance and righteous might (what)

(harl)
*there is a glint in his eyes the promise of passion or a challenge. both at once prehaps and a lot of laughter. his smile grows to a grin one of those cat has the canary grins as he again closes the distance between thier bodies again pitches his voice for thier ears alone.*

"perhaps i wish to return the favor of the other night"

*and if there wasnt that arrogance there and righteous might that spark of indipendance that is carried by all those who hunt alone. he probably wouldnt be interested in you in the least its the desire for an equal he feels.*

(nakhti)
an equal, a subjugate, a superior - it is something they have yet to decide, or perhaps it is something that should never be discussed, and as the smug smile grows, his fingers move to catch it, to trace it, to sculpt it on such fine features, and that is when his gaze pulls away, to partake of a voyage that roams beside and above them, to the boardwalk, the beach, the ocean, and back once again to the dark chocolate eyes set so sweetly upon him (we are so far from home) or at least he is, there are so many mysteries of which he wishes to discover in his new friend

(halr)
*he relishes all rolls and conforms to none, to set a name to something is to bind it forever in that roll so he would rather they where left unsaid. silent let that be a discussion they do not need to make rather act upon the feeling of a given situation. find which suits best for the moment rather than make it a position held forever.

home home is a place to dream for harlequin and that he can do quite comfortably in nakhtis arms. always a wanderer he has no concept of being far from home. yet the look from nakhti that longing for somewhere his heart belongs is so sad makes him want to comfort him even as he wishes to explore the mysteries the 2 could share.*

(nakhti)
he is more than a thousand miles from his home, yet now it is only a place of comfort that he seeks, a warmth and security that bows to his territorial nature, there is a lift of a dark brow (can you provide that?) barely noticed in the short span of space between them, hungry eyes searching the rich chocolate that is all but completely within his grasp, and hazel drops, falling down over length of nose, curve of cheeks, to the soft skin of smiling lips - and the distance closes, teeth gripping lush lower lip, hard enough to leave lingering indentions after the breif touch, soon bathed in the warmth of his breath

and that's when he untangles from the snake of arms around his waist and back, a smooth movement that pulls and melts away, the last between them the touch of gloved hand, and once more a brow lifts (coming?) as the young man heads back onto the boardwalk

(harl)
theres a lot harlequin can offer comfort and warmth about the most of it. but he lets the other free from warm embrace lingering touch as he draws away. when he looks ba that follow me arrogance he smiles* my bikes that way *pointing in the oppocite direction of the one the man currently headed in* and unlike my coat i wont leave it behind. *well actually he probably would but is much more reluctant to*

(nakhti)
a glance finds its way back over his shoulder, and a wider, sly, grin finds its way to his lips (oh? well then...) weight shifting to turn, that fluid roll that makes it seem anything but a sudden switch of directions because he was wrong, and as he passes, a hand reaches out, surprising strength in the grip around Harlequin's sleeved wrist, playfully tugging the other with him... in the correct direction

(harl)
*his laughs then he cant help it that soft sound like furrr sliding down ones spine he lets himself be dragged along the boardwalk towards the far end where his bike is chained up. for the most part again enjoying the contact between the 2 although it unerves him a little as well. a bond of flesh the 2 have made a bond of friendship he feels growing. how well will the two solitary creatures bond and how strongly?*

(nakhti)
there is a bond, that has formed, something that seeded the first night they met, simply because they had remained together until the next morning, it was far more than nameless and faceless, even if it bore no commitment, there was something that began to grow, a connection between two independants that needed nothing but found they enjoyed each other, in flesh, in company, in spirit

the touch remains, until they near the bike, for surely his companion will need both hands to unchain it

(harl)
the lock gives way quickly the chain wound with practiced ease and thrown into backpack he still carries over one shoulder a helmet is picked up from the back of the bike held on with no more than a cable tie which quickly breaks under his fingers. he hands that to nakhti. hey he wants to continue to look pretty (vein who me?) and helmet hair never looks pretty. that and he wants the other to remain safe. (not that he cares or anytihng really)*.

(nakhti)
slenderstrong hands wrap around the gift of helmet, a soft question in hazel eyes, he knows he could recover in minutes what would take others days, but why give that away and ruin the what it is they unspokenly share, so the helmet is slipped on and buckled, waiting for Harlequin to get on the bike, then slides, tightly, snugly, warmly, behind him, long arms wrapping about his waist

(harl)
*he knows he can heal he remembers the bite of talons into skin along with all the other little things they enjoyed that night but well irashional thoughts sometimes happen and either way seeing him place the helmet upon his head makes him feel better. feeling him pressed up against his back makes him very happy.* would you like to see my place this time its no where near as nice. but its closer"

(nakhti)
head tilts, to hear the soft words filtered through the helmet's fiberglass and padding, one hand crawls up, over thick coat, along the lines of Harlequin's chest (take me there)

(harl)
*the motor roars to life with the sound that says i am old and dieing but still got some kick left to me. turned quickly out of the carpark and onto the main roads he tstarts to takes them quickly to what for this week he calls home.*

[pause]

Posted by nakhti at December 20, 2002 12:00 AM
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