open post.

[mund]

GEN/NSFW/TFLN/TEXTS/STARTERS/PROMPTS from canonmates/non-canonmates most welcome.

Comments

leans in here

[cervidous]

[ he has a laundry list of behaviors that are considered "unacceptable" in the house.

prancing about on his hooves is one of them, but the tile is unkind so he seldom does that anymore.

tracking mud in the house, bringing in animals from outside, leaving pressed flowers in percival's folios and books. these are are mild offenses, ones that tegan toes the line of, acts out on, does anyways because it is simply in his nature.

but today, he decides that perhaps he'll err on the side of good behavior. what possesses him to do so is really a mystery, but here he is, clinging to the door frame on two slender, long legs, realizing now that the tile is very cold underneath the pads of his toes as he leans in against the wooden door and peers into percival's study. it's a grand thing, books lining the shelves, an enormous window that sheds beautiful daylight during the early hours. however, it is late and only the moon is high, casting a brilliant glow that intermingles, silver on the gold sconce lighting against the walls.

percival is going through some kind of paperwork--tegan will never understand it, but he's through with his own studies and rather bored.

he clears his throat. loudly. look at me. ]

[mund]

[ graves is reviewing statistics, reports on the hotbeds of criminal activity and contemplating changing out the aurors responsible for the area, since nothing seems to have changed since the last report two months ago. he is a busy man, but he tries to make time for his errant fawn, a lithe, lovely young thing that he indulges as well as disciplines -- although it's not so much discipline as withholding kisses when he misbehaves, and rewarding the good behavior he chooses to pick up.

tegan is a wildling not made for the trappings of city life -- a creature of nature itself, sunny and capricious and yet ultimately sweet natured and innocent. he can't deny that he likes seeing the occasional flower in his books, carefully pressed like he's sending a kiss through the pages, a wisp of a thought. here, this is for you. love me. it's innocence in it's purest form, and he keeps them even if he gentle chides tegan not to do that again.

there is one, a small flower with a defiantly indigo hue and a red, red heart, pressed inside of his wallet. it reminds him of tegan, even if he doesn't breathe a word of it to him; his fawn will ooze smugness for days.

this evening, graves senses tegan before he sees him, teetering on two legs as the young man peers in, those lovely eyes bright with silent demand. the moonlight reflected in his gaze lends him an indescribable allure; its very nature old even before the first tree reached roots into fertile soil.

he looks up only a moment, before he's drawn back on numbers and moving dots on parchment (it occurs to graves that he's eschewed hooves for the evening, but he knows better than to attach a charitable intent to it). ]

What's the matter?

[cervidous]

It's late.

[ tegan says it matter-of-factly as if percival has no perception of time. he holds onto the doorframe just a little more tightly now, feeling the soft twitch of his tailbone trying to find purchase in his lower half. no dice. everything's gone from the hips down, just legs now. miserable human legs. but with good reason! he wants to play nice tonight instead of being so fussy. perhaps that will get percival out from behind his desk.

carefully, he releases one hand from the door frame and then the other. ]

I was wondering if you'd like some tea or maybe to take a break or... something else?

[ he says this all deliberately, each word enunciated good and proper as he takes a few steps forward onto the old carpet in percival's study, one leg and then the other, one foot forward, and then. the other. he breathes in and stops just a few inches from the desk. ] You've just been at it all day and I'm bored and I miss you and it took a long time to get decent at standing tonight and--! [ he huffs just a bit. ] Percival.

[mund]

[ it's late, and his fawn is impatient, casting aside any semblance of subtlety when he approaches before his desk, long-limbed and slender, and it occurs to graves, too, that he's doing this just for him -- the small huff a bid for attention because tegan has more than earned this, toes curling on cold, polished floors an aberration that graves finds himself appreciating.

perhaps not so uncharitable, after all. ]

Something else? [ and he looks up from his report, carefully putting it away and stacking it neatly with the others. in the gently petulant mood tegan is in, he's positive there won't be much work done tonight -- he's been privy to tegan's tantrums, and none of them were pleasant. for an otherworldly, ethereal creature, the damage he's willfully caused by way of aggressively hostile flora is not something graves likes repeating.

so he turns his attention to him, moving around his desk. the older man is just as impeccable in his waistcoat, sleeves neatly folded up to his elbows, collarpins still holding his tie in place. deep in the night, and graves is still impossibly put-together -- it's a gift he's sure tegan doesn't appreciate, considering his aversion to fine clothing. he holds his hand out for him to take, looking down at his feet. ]

You really are quite stunning with human feet as well. Are you asking me to take you to bed?