dear_mun | noragami character on being plucked so suddenly from his reality. again.

Yukine, are you here too?

[Hiyori blinks a few times, surprised. Still, it makes her relax a little to see a familiar face.]

Hiyori-san! ( If he tries to hide his surprise, it doesn't work. His hands are shoved gruffly in his pockets, but his shoulders aren't nearly as tight. ) Yeah, since earlier today. You're alright?

He's right! (Excuse you, you seem to have taken something that belongs to him.)

Yukine, are you missing me already?

( Finders keepers? )

Is it possible to miss someone like you? ( The sharpness in his tone has dulled some in Yato's presence, though. ) Maybe Hiyori, though.

(Finders keepers, Yato found him first! But honestly, he's trying to keep an eye out on this dead boy.)

I don't want to hear that from you! Leave Hiyori out of it. (Pointed look. He knows about those bad thoughts. Anyway...) And I'll have you know, I'm very easy to miss! Just admit you missed me already.

( Not that he is going to make this easy on Yato! Hands shoved into his pockets, he turns from the god, mumbling. )

Give me one good reason for missing you. I can't think of any. ( ~~Or maybe he doesn't want to be so eager to admit that the world isn't quite the same without a jersey clad god.~~ )

(Yato is not accepting that. His voice is a notch higher in outrage.)

Then you're not thinking hard enough! (It was hard work trying to look after Yukine and he wasn't exactly pleasant either...)

( He might be slightly amused by this. But only slightly.

Have a subject change: )

Did you miss me?

(He almost fumbles at the change of tactics. Then stubbornly doesn't.)

Of course! (He says matter-of-factly, ignoring the urge to drag up what a difficult little brat Yukine could be. But, at the same time, he's crossing his arms.) What kind of poor caretaker do you take me for?

..... Why?

( It is simple and straight forward. He looks suspicious because )

( --because? Yato has the decency to be a little serious.)

...You're not a bad kid.

( Because his god is an older boy in a jersey. Even if he has plucked Yukine and given him another chance at something. Even if he smells nice. He scrubs at his mouth with his wrist, cheeks flushed. Not the answer he was expecting. )

Even though I sting you?

Even then. I chose you, didn't I? (Other gods would get rid of them at the first sting, but the circumstances were different with Yato and Yukine. The embarrassment written all over Yukine's face over something so simple is a good enough example. Yato manages a wry smile. He's fourteen. He just needs guiding.

But speaking of stinging...)

Though I'd prefer if you didn't sting me and would listen a little more!

( He isn't accustomed to this: being chosen, being looked after. It makes him feel vulnerable, and he's not quite sure how to react. The flush upon his cheeks only serves to deepen as he issues Yato's shoulder a very light shove, and then folds his arms against his chest, fire-flower eyes cast off to the side. ) Fine. Give me some good advice then, right now.

Shoot.

(He takes the shove with a grin, letting Yukine push him around more than the force used really inflicted.)

For starters, it wouldn't be a bad idea to stick with me instead of running off. (He creeps one arm around Yukine's neck, before pulling him closer and leaning down to share secrets. ) I know I look young and beautiful, but I've been around long enough to know a few things.

(Like how to keep him safe at night and what is going to get him in trouble.)

And you shouldn't underestimate your god!

Hey! ( For all of his audible protests and the deep frown that finds his lips, the fourteen-year-old fails to budge from his new spot, nestled against Yato's side. As much as he loathes the realization, Hiyori is right: the scent of a god is transfixing; each shallow breath he pulls into his lungs is amazing.

But that doesn't mean he won't glower, arms folded against his chest as bright, bright eyes flit to find Yato at his side, scoffing quietly at the "young and beautiful." ) The shrine is cold and dark. ( And if he can help it, he won't shiver in the god's presence. He doesn't want to be a kid.

A beat, and then with a hint of awe that he can't scrub from his tone: )

Just how old are you, anyway?

Edited 2014-02-20 05:03 (UTC)

(Yato, of course, doesn't fail to realize that he doesn't move. He just wisely doesn't say anything about it and instead appreciates it. He almost forgot how small Yukine was. Short and scrawny enough to right against him easily. He doesn't quite relinquish his hold either.

He'll just ignore the scoffing. He grins like a cheshire cat at the question.)

Maybe if you're good, I'll tell you sometime.

(Age isn't terribly important among the gods.)

You're starting to learn. (He told you to focus on this dreamboat, didn't he?)

( Yato`s grin inspires a roll of fire-flower coloured eyes; how can a god with no shrine, no definite plans, no money be so carefree? Especially when the fourteen-year-old still feels as if he himself is stumbling through the darkness. ) But you know about me. ( Not a question, but a statement. Every memory he has lost, the god surely grips between his fingers.

For a fleeting moment, he thinks to ask, his breath catching in the back of his throat. But then he decides against it, brightly coloured eyes half lidding as he settles into his god's warmth, leaning heavily but still frowning. )

Learning how, clammy palms?

(It's a sore subject, what he knows about Yukine. Both ways, he figures. The pointed mention is enough to make Yato miss a beat, unreasonably tense for his usual idiotic demeanor. He holds onto a breath, waiting for the question to follow.

Then the moment passes, Yukine's slight weight leaning into him, seeking out the warmth. Yukine always seems to be cold. It's a cold night, anyway. Yato just takes advantage of it like a lazy cat, draping himself about Yukine, setting his chin ontop of his head.

He'll let that insult slide for now. A small price to pay for a small victory.)

You're focusing on me, aren't you?

( In the back of his mind, he can't help but wonder if everyone is this cold, or if this is the price demanded for a semi-second chance at rebirth. Yukine wonders if he is cold to the touch, acts more like a space-heater in giving off heat that he does not and cannot seem to hold enough of in return, or if his hands have found some sort of middle ground.

So long as they aren't clammy, he won't complain. )

Unfortunately. ( Yukine doesn't move, merely shifts for show, pressing himself snugly into Yato's side as he feels the weight of the divine's chin atop his head. Warm. It might be the first time since he drowned beneath Hiyori's covers that he can truly claim to be warm. ) Jersey, scarf, blue eyes -- what's this supposed to do again?

( Aside from distracting him from the dark. )

(The two strays are safe here, at this shrine that isn't theirs, but that never was any comfort for Yukine, was it? He wonders if this is, though. Probably not. What did he say about fourteen being a difficult age? Well, at least he'll stop shivering. He can't stand the sight of him sulking and shivering.

Yato takes deep, relaxed breaths that inhale the scent clinging to the ends of Yukine's hair. He could sleep like this. As it is, he closes his eyes, not going to sleep, but comfortable.)

Keep you out of trouble, of course. (He says like it's obvious.) Give you sweet dreams.

( Finally, finally the shivering dissipates at the warmth of his god, his bright, fire-flower coloured eyes stealing a quick glimpse sidelong up at Yato before he pretends to flick a bit of dirt from his pants. There are a thousand questions that rise to find his tongue -- can gods actually deliver good dreams? are you cold? who am I? -- but the fourteen-year-old feigns disinterest, as not to be swept up in the smug grin of the divine. Before long, one leaps free of its own accord: )

Do gods dream?

( His own breathing comes level, even, as he allows Yato's scent to settle into his lungs with every inhale. )

(The feigned disinterest goes practically unnoticed. It's a lazy moment, late enough that Yato is drowsy enough to not respond in immediate smug glee. He, even as a god, does get tired. It doesn't help having a handful like Yukine, but that's the last thing he's going to say now that he's got the little brat curled up against him. Maybe Yukine will actually go to sleep tonight...)

Yeah. (He answers with none of the expected smugness, only cracking an eye open.) It's mostly memories.

(Sometimes his, sometimes...)

We have good dreams and bad dreams too.

( He isn't sure what he is expecting, but whatever it is, it isn't this. His brows pinch in concentration as he weighs the pros and cons of holding a conversation with his god sans sarcasm, bargaining honest inquiries for actual answers. It's risky -- )

What does a god have to have nightmares over?

( -- but he excuses it for exhaustion and the darkness that blankets them, causing his breath to catch momentarily in the back of his throat as he turns his face to press his features briefly into Yato's side.

Squeezing his bright eyes shut, he inhales deeply, allowing the scent to calm him. )

We should get candles or something, if we're going to keep squatting here.

noragami character on being plucked so suddenly from his reality. again.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject