Kenzi [005] Video

[onteamdyson]

[Oh hey, it's Kenzi! She appears to be sitting on a bench... outside... with the sun setting and snow falling softly. Is she crazy?! At least she's bundled up and in layers, even if her bunny hat looks really stupid. There's some statue or something behind her, looks like a lady. She's definitely sitting in the cemetery, just chillin']

Hey biatches! So... not that I'm being totally nostalgic or homesick or anything, because that shit is for pussies, but-- [She winces, adjusting her position so she's supporting her right arm with her left. It tilts the video a bit.]

Which of you crazy freaks has never seen snow before? Anyone? Just remember that in a pinch, socks CAN be used as mittens. I'm willing to field any basic questions about this poor, misguided imitation of Canadian weather.



((ooc: She's literally just sitting around in the cemetery thinking about dark junk. Feel free to go up and bug her.))

Comments

[gloryisbullshit]

[If you look closely--watch his eyes!--you can see the gears turning. He teethes around a few words that he doesn't say, frowns. Squints.

[Grins.] Shut the fuck up.

[onteamdyson]

Oh my god, forget I said anything.

[She flops back like she was, trying to cover her face with her arm because it's probably the same colour as Party's head right now.]

[gloryisbullshit]

No way! No way, no way! [He doesn't bother getting all the way up, just kind of slides to the front of the couch and gets up to lean on his elbows next to Kenzi's arm, bows his head to try to catch her eyes.] So what are you sayin? Sayin I oughta pick a different bed, or...?

[onteamdyson]

[There's some hesitant peeking before she finally moves her arm and looks up at him. Damn you, Party Poison.]

I'm saying check a box. Yes, no, or maybe.

[gloryisbullshit]

Well, yeah. [He says easily.] Sorry: "Yes."

[onteamdyson]

[Woah, really!? Wh-- ... okay then. If she looks surprised, it's because she totally is. But then she's hooking two fingers in the collar of his hoodie and pulling him closer to kiss.

Because damn. She wanted that boy the second he got up in her personal space. And the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.]

[gloryisbullshit]

[Oh, well, happy to oblige! Party hums a surprised little noise first, but it takes all of a split second for him to be getting up to lean over her, settle his hips by her hips on the couch, oh hello. He takes a mile of this inch, hands quick to slip up into her hair, down her side--he's not a slow guy, all around.]

[onteamdyson]

[Still cold from outside but oh so warm underneath. This shit's like baked Alaska. Her right hand stays close, fingertips tracing along cheekbone, and ultimately settles at the nape of his neck with her arm just barely resting against his shoulder. He's enough of a distraction that it doesn't bother her too much. The other one snakes down his back and up his shirt to lightly drag her nails down his spine.]

[gloryisbullshit]

[The shiver starts with her fingernails at the bottom of his back and ripple up to leak out his mouth in a thin hum. Party grins against her mouth, hands winding around her back and gently lifting her from the couch. Gently (right now, anyway), he pulls her lower lip between his teeth, lets go to kiss the corner of her mouth.] So what was it? [And one more by her nose.] My wit? [Her ear.] My charm? [Beneath her jaw.] Or just my angelic ass?

[onteamdyson]

[Her breath catches when he hits that spot beneath her jaw and she squirms a little. The nails at his back dig in.]

All of the above. Plus your girlyface. [Also the fact that he's careful with her without treating her like she's made of glass. That's a big one.] And you're really hot when you're being scary.

[gloryisbullshit]

[She's not made of glass, look at this--his hands knead over her hips over her shirt, fingers fish under her shirt as he murmurs hotly against her neck:] When've I ever been scary to you? [And teeth, feathery over her skin, ah.]

[onteamdyson]

[Wow, well that makes it really hard to concentrate on anything but she's pretty sure she remembers--] The fountain. Day you showed up. Pretty scary stuff! [Scary-hot. Sparked the crush. Her hands tangle in his hair and she slowly slides her leg up along his hip.] Then you had to go and get all sweet. What was I supposed to do?

[gloryisbullshit]

[A laugh, huffed, pressed against her ear.] You ain't seen scary. [One hand jumps to her knee to lead it higher, blunt nails kink in to rattle along the jeans over her thigh. One hand braces the small of her back; the other grinds down the front of her jeans, dips between her legs.] And it ain't all sweet.

[onteamdyson]

[Okay, that's just-- what's her name again? Kenzi. Yes. Kenzi leans forward, resting her head against his shoulder making a surprised sound halfway to a gasp before nipping at his collarbone through the hoodie.

And then she realizes that they are in the living room. On a couch. And she has roommates. One of which would probably be freaked out for facial reasons. It's her turn to mouth the words against his neck.] Party, I wasn't kidding about the fuzzy blanket in my room.

[gloryisbullshit]

[He could honestly care less about her roommates, even the ones with facial issues. But hey, if she wants--] Show me. [Better show him quick. Pretty sure her bra should be off by now, why aren't we making that happen...]

Gonna sleep, bb, niiiight <33

[onteamdyson]

[If he wants to be all demanding, she is not going to argue. She presses another quick, urgent kiss to his lips before sliding off the couch and tugging him along with her via the waistline of his pants. Through the living room, up the stairs, first door on the right. Purple room with the drumkit and the bed. Most importantly the bed. Door is shut. Roomies locked out. Where were we?

She goes from tugging at his pants to pushing up pretty swiftly. If you could just get rid of all of this now, that would be awesome, kthnx.]

[gloryisbullshit]

[Wow, that is purple. Wow, that is a drumkit! He laughs and gets distracted with looking around for a moment, before getting off his sweatshirt becomes a priority. Party snickers as he wrestles with the garment.] Do--do you play? Hey, waiwait fair's fair--

[Your shirt! Your shirt, be fair! Even if he only technically removed his hoodie. He pulls insistently at her shirt anyway, rucking it up over her stomach, come on.]

[onteamdyson]

Yes I play, and seriously? Hang on. [She steps back, away from his hands and towards the nightstand. Her good arm slips out of the shirt and she pulls it over her head, slowing down to peel the fabric away from the fucked up arm while hissing out obscenities in Russian the entire time. It's worse than it was. She still doesn't want him to touch it. The drawer of the nightstand is opened to reveal a roll of bandages and she tries to wrap her arm with one hand. At least it's only from her wrist to her elbow?]

Told you, dude. Mood killer.

[gloryisbullshit]

Hold up. [He makes quick work of his boots and drops on the bed next to her.] C'mere, lemme see. I'm good at this, let me see.

[onteamdyson]

Just be careful. [Not for her. For him. She drops the bandage in his hand and holds her arm out.] I'm serious, P. Don't touch it. Bad news bears.

[gloryisbullshit]

I'm careful. [He assured lazily, grinning over his teeth as he goes at the chore with a god deal more art than she had. It's easier with two hands!] Look, no touching.

What language was that?

[onteamdyson]

[Huh. Check that out. She turns it over, examining his work. When she's 100% certain none of the infected-looking skin is going to touch him, she pushes him back on the bed and stradles his hips before leaning in close. Her lips barely brush his as she replies,] Russian.

[gloryisbullshit]

[He reminds himself to breathe slow, and maybe get his jeans off a litlte faster next time. They're tight enough as is, but holy shit. His hands spider around her knees, head lifts off the bed to catch her lips quickly.] Russian? You know more than a few cusswords?

[onteamdyson]

I can say a lot of things. [She's never been so proud to be fluent. Especially not when she's sliding her hands under his shirt and up his stomach, pushing the fabric up as she goes. 'I want you so bad' sounds a lot better in Russian anyway, so she says it. Way less pathetic. No less true. She nips the skin just below his jaw, following it up with a sweet kiss but ruins the apology by sucking long enough to leave a mark.]

[gloryisbullshit]

[He doesn't understand, but that works. That definitely works. His palms flat along her legs, run up the seam of her jeans till fingertips hit skin and he moans. Just--appreciative.]

Wish I had somethin pretty t'say t'you. [The touch dips into the small of her back, squeezes over her sides, drags thumbs along the low edge of her ribs before sliding up.] What's that again? Say it again.