(no subject)

[goldtoes]

[ Traditional of the indigenous people of Sankharthali, a leader cuts his hair when he wages a war - a signal to the opposition of conflict.

Dhani's, when left loose and straight, moves about his feet thick and dark and coarse. His advisors pull it up out of his face and away from his temples, loosely contained so that it ought not to drag about the floor. When he's working in the fields alongside his people he has it pulled up in colorful fabrics.

Now, as he moves out of the archway and toward the stairs, it's pulled back and woven into place, ghosting at his ankles; he's dressed in bright, warm colors, saffron and reds and crimsons, a collection of loose, light robes with a headchain and hands, arms and ankles decorated in golden jewelry; his nose and lip are both pierced.

Flanked by a pair of bodyguards, he shoos them away and has them stand back as their guest arrives - he has no desire to be intimidating, even if they've dressed him up like a plaything. It's the best way to showcase the exports - precious metals, jewels, beautifully woven fabrics. It feels too ostentatious, still. ]

Welcome, my friend. It's an honor to have you visiting -- [ his hands are gentle and soft as he reaches out to take one of his new guest's, and his accent is cozy and warm. ]

Comments

umber is so gonna be wearing one of the jewelries in the morning UGH

[suncut]

I love him. He'd be a perfect battle horse. [ Pallo is genuinely tickled. The kick snapping against the wood got him laughing again, and he's still grinning now. ] Can't you imagine it? You wouldn't have to ride him, just let him loose in the field. [ Wouldn't it be wonderful to see an enraged tiny-horse barreling through lines of fighters? In little horse armor? He wants an entire army of them, honestly. ]

You've got your hands full with him... I'd be willing to muck his stall, you know. For a small fee. [ Oh boy. It begins. ]

Good. dhani will be delighted

[goldtoes]

Oh, trust me, he's a battle horse every damned morning when I have to bring him in from pasture. [ But Mal is smiling, despite himself, a crooked half-grin where the scarring mutes it on one side.

He could get an entire army of them if he wanted to, but he'd like to live, and even just the one is too much. He raises one eyebrow and scoffs, amused even through how grumpy he looks with his arms folded and his mouth screwed up to one side. ] A small fee.

[suncut]

Mhm. [ Pleasant and patient, he nods. And makes the mistake of leaning his weight on the stall, which angers the occupant and causes another grumpy kick. Pallo snorts in amusement, telling the mean little thing that he'll be with him in a moment, before glancing back to Mal. ]

A tiny fee. [ He waves a hand dismissively. The teeniest, tiniest fee... ] I'll charge you only a single kiss this time. [ A pause. Better add some insurance. ] Maybe an extra if I'm injured by your monster. [ Awful. Hideous. What a cheesy strategy. Does it even work? Sometimes... ]

[goldtoes]

[ Mal'aat stares at him.

He clearly has no idea what to do with this offer, and it isn't for lack of interest as much as it is utter bafflement at the prospect that he's the target of Pallo's. ] What?

[ Not intending by any means to sound this dumb, he presses his lips together and straightens up. Finally, stupidly and trying not to smile: ] ... I suppose.

[suncut]

[ Ha. Victory. A rather cute victory, if he's allowed to say so- he notices Mal'aat trying to avoid smiling.

Pallo brightens immediately, grinning shamelessly. ] Wonderful. [ ...Then his grin falls, and he looks down at the tiny nightmare that walks the earth. ] Now how do I get him out? [ Perhaps he should have picked an easier horse to barter with. ]

[goldtoes]

[ Mal, smug, has his arms crossed over his chest as he tips his head to one side. ] Very carefully?

[ But that's not really fair, and he doesn't want Pallo to lose a finger or three, so he just shakes his head. ] Tell you what. I'll get him out if I get my kiss first.

[suncut]

[ Purely from the look on Pallo's face, it's clear he wasn't expecting this twist. ] Oh, my hero. [ He smirks, rewarding Mal's boldness with gentle touch. He reaches out to gently curl his fingers around one of his wrists, carefully prying it loose from where it's resting crossed against his chest. ] Come here then, let me see you.

[ Pallo tugs him closer, though leaves his hold loose and easy to pull out of in case Mal suddenly spooks. ] Just the one?

[goldtoes]

[ Stepping closer, he lets himself be caught up in gentle fingers, flexing the other anxiously at his hip for lack of anything else to do with his hands. ] There isn't much to see, [ he clips back, playful, and oh, he's omega, too, isn't he.

Of course he is. Nothing can be easy here, apparently, and poor Marl's entire life has become some sort of absurd surreal comedy in the span of an evening. ] How many would you like?

[suncut]

[ He is, how delightful. A delightful, awful move pulled by the universe, as if it knows how entertaining it will be when Marl loses her shit once she finds out both of her companions' dicks have gone rogue. ] Not sure I agree... Maybe you'll let me see for myself later? [ Pallo's voice is nearly a purr when he speaks. He gathers up Mal's free hand as well before depositing both of them on himself, specifically at his shoulders, making it easy for Mal to hold on to him.

And leaving his midsection coincidentally unguarded. Pallo's too-warm hands settle there, gripping his waist as he leans in close, bumping an almost-nuzzle against Mal's cheekbone like the incredibly rude tease he has apparently decided to be. ] Oh, let's see. Just tell me when you've had enough, how's that?

[goldtoes]

Perhaps I will. I suppose I shouldn't speak for you, hm? You can make your own call about these sorts of things. [ Mal slides his hands thoughtfully down Pallo's chest and back up again, up his neck to stroke his jawline with his thumbs. ]

I think that sounds like a plan.

[suncut]

Good choice. [ Pallo shows his approval with a soft kiss on each cheekbone- the scarred one is given a bit of extra attention, a careful trail left along that side until his lips find Mal's mouth. He teases there too, brushing skin against skin before ultimately drawing him in to a proper kiss.

It's unhurried and quickly leans towards indulgent, with the tip of Pallo's tongue briefly darting out to make cautious contact with Mal's lower lip. Testing the waters. ]

[goldtoes]

[ Mal hums into the kiss, lazy, calloused hands finding their way to either side of Pallo's neck - they rest there, thumbs against his jawline, rough with archery and swordplay; he leans up on his toes to chase the indulgence.

If anything gets done this evening, it'll be a miracle - he's already smitten and it's been less than half an hour, but there's something electric in it. ] Clever.

[suncut]

[ Oh, something will get done if Pallo's lucky... And he desperately hopes he is.

Slowly exhaling, he allows his lips to graze tauntingly across Mal's even after they've parted. ] I see we've made a mistake... I can't imagine I'll want to stop. [ He's comfortable like this, with his face against Mal's and with Mal's hands on his neck. Those hands are rough with history, proven capable and no doubt strong enough to do damage to his vulnerable throat if he were to decide he suddenly wanted out of the situation, but Pallo is relaxed.

His eyes have closed, his fingers antsily fussing with the clothing at Mal's hips that he would so love to burrow under. ] Will you let me touch?

rip the tato tag i am so sorry

[goldtoes]

[ Mal grins into the kiss, low and easy, thumbs rough against Pallo's jaw. ]

Yes. But maybe not here.

[ He doesn't want to get caught, not by his brothers or his sisters or some random nosy stablehand who will, he knows, run gleefully to Dhani and tattle about it. ] How impatient are you? My quarters aren't far...

potato is one of my fav veg 😤

[suncut]

Maybe not. [ Pallo pulls his head far enough back to turn, risking a quick glance at the glaring mini-horse again. He smirks, whispering to Mal: ] I think we're making him angrier.

[ Probably not, that's likely just his usual face when humans have the audacity to be near his stall, but it's an entertaining excuse to move. He gets it, really. Pallo wouldn't lose sleep over being caught, though he can see why Mal would be more cautious. His family is very boisterous to begin with, just imagine giving them fuel. ]

I'm very impatient, but I'm not an animal. [ He grins, teasing of course. Then stops and corrects himself. ] Well. I am a trained one, at least. [ That's his cue, though, to lead the way. Pallo can behave. ]

me too this tag is not buttery and herby though

[goldtoes]

[ Mal bursts into laughter, soft, easy.

His family is absolutely feral, and all but the twins will mock him for it. Dhani might not, at least, but the girls? Like hell he'll get off scot free with that one. Especially with Sanvi roaming about. God forbid she finds out about anything on earth. ] Don't be rotten, [ but he's grinning, leans up for another kiss, tugs at his hand. ] Come, then.

[ Mal sleeps here, in the training grounds and not in the rest of the palace - more comfortable in a small cottage tucked away behind the stables, he can attend to the horses as needed and mind the droves of people that pass through, armed and not. It's a luxurious place, though, as he unlocks gates and passes through fruit trees and large, warm-weather ferns to the wooden door, set in stucco walls.

He closes the door behind him - it smells like citrus and patchouli and leather, in here - and tips his head, coy. ] Now. Where were we?

pallo is cheesy enough to make up for it

[suncut]

[ Asking him not to be rotten is a tall order. But look at that, he does his best. Makes a specific effort to make their trip together seem nonchalant and innocent just in case there happen to be eyes around... It almost works, maybe. If only he weren't so occupied watching Mal's lower half as he follows behind him...

Mal has nice hips, all right? Let a man appreciate.

His little cottage is almost just as nice to look at. He glances up when they arrive, charmed by the entire set up. ] Have your own civilization to yourself, do you? [ Away from the commotion. Horses right nearby. Fruit trees, for goodness sake. It's perfect, really... Perfect like the smell of the inside. It's natural and inviting, and very... well, very Mal. His smell is everywhere, nearly making Pallo's head spin. He has to take a moment to breathe him in and center himself. ]

I believe these were coming off. [ He reaches out, tugging at an edge of Mal's clothing. ] It's my birthday, let's unwrap my gift. [ It is not, damnit. ]

oh my god

[goldtoes]

Well, aren't you the impatient one, [ Mal hums, thoughtful and quiet. He flips the lock on the door behind him.

Still, though, he edges closer, laughing as his hands find their places again, at chest and shoulder. ] Go ahead, then. Enjoy.

[ It takes some work - the quiver on his hip, the leather greaves and brace on one forearm to protect him from his own arrows, but the clothing under it is butter-soft bamboo, all of it black. The scarring continues, as it's probably expected to, down over his chest, his belly - the skin from his shoulders down to his thighs is coated with the overlapped straight lines of old lashings, and there is a stab wound just to the left of his navel - three of them, in fact. He seems... remarkably unfazed by the reveal of all of these things.

But then, he's too busy working his hands under Pallo's shirt, exploring whatever he can reach, nudging fabric up his chest with exactly as much impatience as his youth suggests. ]

[suncut]

[ He's willing to work for his prize, even if the leathers give him trouble. It's enough of a pause that Pallo makes a sound of triumph once they're peeled away and set aside, his hands seeking out the softer black material next. The top is discarded more carelessly than the equipment, along with his own whenever Mal makes it clear that it's in the way.

Pallo's own torso is nicely toned and healthy in color. There are a few long lines of shallow, faded scars, though certainly nothing like what Mal wears.

And it's a lot to take in. Pallo is fascinated, slowly lowering to his knees so he can have a moment of up-close observation. He doesn't shy away from the marred skin, his hands easily trailing up and down each side of him without hesitation. There are so many, yet he's still so young... ] How in the world- How old are these? [ The question is chased by soft kisses, pressed around and atop of regrown flesh, though one of the stab marks near his navel gets a little lick instead. ]

[goldtoes]

[ It catches him off guard, being handled with such a lack of hesitation - like he's a treasure with the scars, not in spite of them. He huffs a tiny laugh of amusement, humming in mild disappointment as Pallo gets too far away to kiss, damn him. ]

Which ones? [ Rough fingers coast lazily over Pallo's shoulders, wind themselves into his hair. ] The burns and flogging are a handful of years old. From a very small enemy force that has since been taken care of. The others are six, eight months, maybe. [ He seems unconcerned. ] An attempted coup. Also taken care of.

[suncut]

[ Ah, good. The largest portions seem to be the oldest. Pallo hums and nods, taking note of the fresher ones- he'll have to be careful with those. No biting nearby, no scratching, just in case the tissue hasn't yet lost its raw edge. Sometimes it takes a while.

At some point he laughs, bumping his head against Mal's hip, his soft hair tickling over bare skin. ] You'll earn yourself a reputation if you haven't already. [ The unkillable Mal! How striking. ] I hope the ones you train are properly terrified. [ It's such a casual conversation... Strange, considering Pallo's next move is to nudge his face against Mal's still-clothed (for now) groin.

Probably trying to make himself an unbearable distraction on purpose. ]

[goldtoes]

I have one, you're not wrong -- [ He's laughing, easy, fingers carding through silky hair. ] Something about a man not giving up essential information despite being tarred and feathered - well, you know.

[ Is he showing off? Yes. Is he telling Pallo this to impress him? Yes. But is it the truth - also, yes. He just discloses it to look handsome and strong in the moment, which is immediately followed by tightening his grasp in his hair and his breath catching in his throat when he's nudged against. ] Oh.

[suncut]

[ Every little trick of Mal's is working out fantastically. ] Tarred and feathered? [ Pallo's voice is as awed as the expression on his face. Needless to say, he is incredibly impressed... Mal had best stop talking like this. Pallo already wants to carry him back home with him, which would be terrible in the first place. He'd never stop bragging about him, or showing him off- the omega made of steel, the one death could never have. It would be so annoying.

That tiny gasp is intoxicating, however. Mal, who has withstood so much, crumbling under a touch. Pallo grins, pressing dirty kisses to the fabric under his mouth- his lips part and his tongue makes itself right at home, resting flat against cloth-covered flesh in a gentle stroke. The contact is broken far too soon, though, as he pulls his head back and gazes sweetly up at Mal. The ass. ] You all right?

[goldtoes]

Mmhm, [ Mal sounds thoughtful, and wouldn't that be something? Claimed not by a thousand deaths but by a man. Talk about annoying. And if Sanvi got wind of how Pallo were showing him off, Gods above, she'd never stop hounding the both of them about it.

He huffs, narrowing his eyes down at Pallo. ] You're a rotten man, do you know that? [ But Mal'aat wouldn't be smiling if he were too put off. ] Tease.

[suncut]

I've heard something like that a time or two, yes. [ What an awful, cheeky smile. It even has the audacity to be attractive. Absolutely unfair.

He stands again and right after he does, his arms are hooked under Mal's thighs, hoisting him right up along with him. Ready to carry him off to debauchery.

Well, then. ] Where can I put you, I wonder... I'd like to have you laid out so I can have a proper look, I think. [ Point the way, and he'll do the rest of the heavy lifting. Literally. ]