Have you considered that mayhap it would look far better upon you? What with the yellow of the narcissus complementing your silken tresses, and the asphodel easily becoming lost against mine own.
[Logical, he thinks, when Hythlodaeus has always had such beautiful and striking hair. Though eventually he relents, wordlessly passing the bottle forward by its neck, if only because having his hand thus freed means he can wrap both arms about his lover, pressing forward into that strong back.]
[It's hardly the flower crown that has softened the man's edges (and words) so - it's the wine, without a doubt. No matter how much he might protest.]
[Hythlodaeus titters, thoroughly delighted by Hades' current demeanour, and takes the bottle to swallow a mouthful of the contents. It goes down easily and he makes a sound of approval as he passes it back.]
Lovely. We should see about getting some for the occasional night in.
[Settled against Hades' chest he closes his eyes and hums, letting his head fall back and turning it to smudge a kiss to the other man's cheek.]
And you're being terribly poetic. Do tell me more about my 'silken tresses'.
[Hades clucks his tongue in dismay as Hythlodaeus passes the bottle back in his direction. He hardly wants to see so much as a drop of it go to waste, yet at the same time, taking it from him will require him to adjust...and he doesn't wish that overmuch either.]
[He leans a little closer to make his point known, his hands sliding more securely around him - like a petulant child reluctant to let go of a favored toy.]
Stow it away if you're already finished with it. And what, precisely, do you mean by "occasional"?
[The kiss goes some way towards mollifying him, however. Hythlodaeus seems content, and it's enough to ease any lingering annoyance he may feel - feigned or otherwise. He allows his own eyelids to droop - not entirely closed, but enough that what sliver of the world he sees is reduced to the back of Hythlodaeus's head leant against his chest and the curve of one ear just visible amidst those "silver tresses" he so ardently spoke of.]
Pity. I would have thought I was being brilliantly poetic. Yet what more needs to be said? Words would pale by comparison. Shall I describe the way the dappled light dances upon them when they hang in loose waves? How the texture is alike the soft inner edge of a newly unfurled rose petal? The way those flyaway wisps frame your face so exactly? Or mayhap you wish me to detail its fragrance.
[Well, if he doesn't want the bottle... Hythlodaeus will keep hold of it, resting it against his thigh rather than trying to move to give it back to Hades again. He's so cute like this, though he's sure the other man would be disgruntled to hear himself described in such a way, and the way he settles as Hythlodaeus finds a comfortable position is cute as well.
He lets his head rest back as he listens to Hades' voice by his ear, feeling the way his heart gently swells with the simple tone and cadence of it regardless of the words being said, and he utters the softest chuckle at the questions sent his way.]
I speak to a thespian and poet, do I not? A veritable master of words. [Hythlodaeus smiles and although Hades would not be able to see it, the expression is clear enough in the warmth of his voice.] Paint me a picture with them, dear heart, and I will hear no excuses that you are incapable. I know it not to be so.
[Hades doesn't need to see it. The fondness in Hythlodaeus's voice is as effective as a lamp guiding him in. He nestles closer, his chin resting atop the crown of his head - a present, if considered weight. Tipsy though he is, it isn't his intention to smother Hythlodaeus. Not yet, at least - and not in this particular way.]
[He lets out a low breath. Of course he'd make such demands now, when he's too worn down to refuse him... Not that he particularly wants to, in this case.]
Before your silken tresses, the wisteria weep with jealousy.
Their blooms liquify and runneth down to pool like a fragrant lake about thine feet. Mine heart pays tribute. And when - inevitably - the clear bells that signal thine amusement appeal to the air, the songbirds fall silent to listen.
[Hades traces Hythlodaeus's sleeve with careful fingers, seeking out the warmth of his hand to tuck into his.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-10-21 01:45 pm (UTC)Have you considered that mayhap it would look far better upon you? What with the yellow of the narcissus complementing your silken tresses, and the asphodel easily becoming lost against mine own.
[Logical, he thinks, when Hythlodaeus has always had such beautiful and striking hair. Though eventually he relents, wordlessly passing the bottle forward by its neck, if only because having his hand thus freed means he can wrap both arms about his lover, pressing forward into that strong back.]
[It's hardly the flower crown that has softened the man's edges (and words) so - it's the wine, without a doubt. No matter how much he might protest.]
no subject
Date: 2024-11-06 12:28 am (UTC)Lovely. We should see about getting some for the occasional night in.
[Settled against Hades' chest he closes his eyes and hums, letting his head fall back and turning it to smudge a kiss to the other man's cheek.]
And you're being terribly poetic. Do tell me more about my 'silken tresses'.
no subject
Date: 2024-11-07 03:36 pm (UTC)[He leans a little closer to make his point known, his hands sliding more securely around him - like a petulant child reluctant to let go of a favored toy.]
Stow it away if you're already finished with it. And what, precisely, do you mean by "occasional"?
[The kiss goes some way towards mollifying him, however. Hythlodaeus seems content, and it's enough to ease any lingering annoyance he may feel - feigned or otherwise. He allows his own eyelids to droop - not entirely closed, but enough that what sliver of the world he sees is reduced to the back of Hythlodaeus's head leant against his chest and the curve of one ear just visible amidst those "silver tresses" he so ardently spoke of.]
Pity. I would have thought I was being brilliantly poetic. Yet what more needs to be said? Words would pale by comparison. Shall I describe the way the dappled light dances upon them when they hang in loose waves? How the texture is alike the soft inner edge of a newly unfurled rose petal? The way those flyaway wisps frame your face so exactly? Or mayhap you wish me to detail its fragrance.
no subject
Date: 2024-12-08 02:30 am (UTC)He lets his head rest back as he listens to Hades' voice by his ear, feeling the way his heart gently swells with the simple tone and cadence of it regardless of the words being said, and he utters the softest chuckle at the questions sent his way.]
I speak to a thespian and poet, do I not? A veritable master of words. [Hythlodaeus smiles and although Hades would not be able to see it, the expression is clear enough in the warmth of his voice.] Paint me a picture with them, dear heart, and I will hear no excuses that you are incapable. I know it not to be so.
no subject
Date: 2024-12-31 08:24 pm (UTC)[Hades doesn't need to see it. The fondness in Hythlodaeus's voice is as effective as a lamp guiding him in. He nestles closer, his chin resting atop the crown of his head - a present, if considered weight. Tipsy though he is, it isn't his intention to smother Hythlodaeus. Not yet, at least - and not in this particular way.]
[He lets out a low breath. Of course he'd make such demands now, when he's too worn down to refuse him... Not that he particularly wants to, in this case.]
Before your silken tresses, the wisteria weep with jealousy.
Their blooms liquify and runneth down to pool like a fragrant lake about thine feet. Mine heart pays tribute. And when - inevitably - the clear bells that signal thine amusement appeal to the air, the songbirds fall silent to listen.
[Hades traces Hythlodaeus's sleeve with careful fingers, seeking out the warmth of his hand to tuck into his.]