09.24.3013: Smudging the Ink
Summary: Nitrim keeps his accounts clear with Ithaca on Cyrielle.
Date: 14 September 2013
Related: Angels to Some
Nitrim Ithaca 


Nitrim's Apartments - Volkan, The Crescent
A small two-step set of stairs lead into this recessed room that is lit by hooded, indirect lighting that casts a somber, golden glow over its mostly red and black features. Various pieces of art, both photography and moving hypervisual, line the walls. Darkly shaded marble flooring stretches out to a small seating area with a pair of sofas in front of a mounted InfoSphere videoscreen that serves as the centerpiece of the room. To the left of the entryway is a comfortable chair seated next to a table and bookshelf that rest near a wide balcony that overlooks Volkan below. Along the far right wall is a snake habitat on a raised platform tht is protected by a mostly transparent energy shield.

The rear of the room supports another small two-stair reach that leads up to a lavish bedroom setting with a draped four-post bed in black and red dressing. Lastly, a small double door off to the side of the bedding section leads to a washroom with a walk-in shower and a large soaking tub set next to a window.

September 24, 3013

Nitrim sits alone in his room, the red lighting having been turned in the place while the man remains in his streetclothes. Sitting alone by his window, a curl of acrid cigarette smoke roiling up from the tip of the burning cigarette in his hand. A low drone of clattering punk music drifts over the background as he watches over Volkan and the storm sweeping the air around it free of pollutants.

Rook slips in, using her passcode for his room, and wearing the gypsy-esque outfit that has a Rovehn feeling to it: corseted top with length sleeves that alternate between bands of trim and gauzy black material, and a full pleated skirt of reds, oranges, and yellows. Her hair is down, there are large hoop earrings in her ears, and bracelets of a cheap variety match the mishmash of necklaces. "Hey," she greets quietly.

Looking up from his chair, Nitrim's slender eyebrow quirks at the sight of her and an appreciately smug grin crosses over his lips. With a tsk from behind his closed teeth, he holds out an arm for her and waggles his fingers, beckoning her over to him. "You know, Rook, you're takin' to this dresses and fashion thing in a way that just wears well on you." He smiles to her. "C'mere…"

Rook gives him a tiny little secretive smile, the one she reserves only for him, and walks with a semi-sashay, clearly needing more lessons in that, towards him. She reaches out a hand for his. "I like this one. Gives me cleavage."

"I noticed the moment you walked in the door." Nitrim laughs, complimenting her with his honesty as he reaches out, placing a kiss to her wrist as he tries to draw her down into his lap. "You're blending in with the locals and haunting the Spyre like I do." He offers, biting his lip and tilting his chin up to her for the typical hello of a kiss.

Rook settles in his lap, a feather-light weight with the sound of merrily jingling necklaces and bracelets accompanying the motion. She sweeps fingertips over his cheek and kisses it, before moving to his lips in a warm greeting. "Doing ok?" she asks quietly, knowing the news reports are no doubt plaguing him.

"I'll live. I went out for coffee to talk with Lorelei and the press nabbed it. There's all kinds of news and shit coming out about me right now and it's like this massive weight on my chest, like getting waterboarded." Nitrim admits, reaching out for her hand to lace his finger through hers. There's a scant rolling of his eyes. "And I guess that book is coming out." He laughs into her wrist as he closes his eyes and presses his lips to it. "And I have something I need to tell you. I don't know how you'll feel about, and I'm feeling like being clean-slate-like all of the time now."

"Tell me. Honest is good," Rook murmurs, watching him kiss her wrist with dark eyes and a small smile. She takes in a breath, to steel herself for whatever he has to say. But she seems calm, relaxed even. Other than revealing himself as a Hostile or kicking her to the curb, there is very little he could say that would distress her.

With one final kiss to her wrist, Nitrim lets their conjoined hands drop to his lap. There's a slight crack as his knuckle bounces off of his belt buckle and his eyes go wide. He mouths the word OWWWWWWww… with a little chuckle as he has to steal his hand back to wave it in the space between them. Whatever that was, it hurt. "I slept with someone. Do you remember Cyrielle, from the rave, the girl with the cane and my camera? We weren't friends then, but we've become friends and when I met her to retrieve my camera it happened."

Rook tilts her head as she listens to him, curious, solemn. "I remember. Noble. Holollas. And?" She stiffens just a little bit. He's not a Hostile but he could very well be kicking her to the curb still.

Nitrim blinks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together as he offers his thumb and knuckle to her, a little expectantly, as if she'll know what to do with it. He nods to her, yes, that's the one. "And…her and I are friends and I'm letting you know this because you're my girl and though we kinda talked about this it would be bullshit for you to not know?" Nitrim replies, looking up to her with calming eyes, hopeful eyes. "I just…don't want to fuck things up like I did other things and we promised no secrets. Well, no secrets."

"Thank you for telling me," Rook says quietly, relieved that it's just something like that. She kisses his thumb to make the boo boo all better. "Do you like her?" she asks in a soft tone, seeking out his eyes.

Resting back against the chair after Rook has made everything better, Nitrim looks up to her dark eyes, searching them with the pools of green that let him view her through the red filter of the room's lighting. "She's my friend, she loves photography and hates bullshit, of course I like her." Nitrim replies, offering her his hand back to make sure this conversation isn't glossed over. "But she's not my Ithaca, and no one else could be. Nothing, not even death is going to kill that you're my best, my closest, my dearest friend, Rook, and soon I'm going to show you just how seriously I mean that. I've told everyone, even her, where I go, you belong."

"Not worried about it. Need friends who understand. It's good," Rook murmurs, brushing fingertips over his brow and down his cheekbones, lightly. Her lips curve in a small smile. "Happy you told me. No secrets good."

"I don't want to do anything that makes you go away, Rook. I don't want to lose this because I have this feeling that with the other one of us is going to fall the fuck apart and none of this is going to mean a damn." Nitrim replies, leaning his cheek into her fingertips as he watches her face. A faint, pleased smile stretches over his lip as he looks up to her. He spider-walks his fingertips up from her shoulder to her cheek, brushing a thumb against her chin. "You shouldn't be worried about it. Am I overthinking this again? She wants to try to become your friend, too, and - truth be told - I think she may want to be with me again, so I need to know where the rules are, because you have a stake in me, and I have a stake in you, and I want to do this right. What does Ithaca want from this?"

Rook is not used to being asked what she wants. Seriously not used to it. She blinks at him a few times as she ponders the question. "Can this be our space?" she gestures at his apartments. "So I don't walk in …" she trails off. "…Awkward." She chews on her lip. She doesn't know what to ask of him beyond that.

"Sure, that's fair." Nitrim replies, cringing just a little as the red lighting fails to capture the awkward flush to his cheeks. "This space is ours, and I leave it to you who is allowed in of our friends, but it's your place to make the invitation. If it's not family, staff, the people of Khournas that are allowed in here, you have that say." Nitrim replies, nudging her jaw down to him for a kiss. "You can tell me the things you want, the things that you'd like, with me you have the right to say whatever the fuck you want and tell me when things make you uncomfortable."

Rook kisses him gently, and she catches his eyes. "All new to me. Not sure what to ask," she murmurs. "Just want to be us, be happy, have crazy sex." She quirks a wry smile at that last bit.

"I'll give you all of that and more," Nitrim smiles into the kiss, tilting his head gently to part her lips with his to make the kiss something deeper, more sweet of a gesture. Fingers getting caught in the jingle of her necklaces, he closes his eyes and is careful to keep his cigarette away from her. "You'll see. You'll understand the next time we see Pryde…"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License