(what could he be used to that's pricier than this? has this brand of change happened to him before? jonas thinks on sasuke, how little he understands about his world, or even stiles' with different beasts like werewolves, banshees, kanima—evidently, geardagas acts as a sort of nexus. an interdimensional crossing.)
... so you've been through the ringer before. It's difficult to believe it's been over two months for me, so I can't imagine a year. It... it must go by more quickly as time goes on. (wants to ask him more and will, but his shoulder's being pecked at by talons that glint like a natural blue topaz. they sort through the layers of his military jacket and hoodie, and he's surprised to report that it doesn't feel intrusive. feels preened, if anything, heart in his throat as he wonders for one out-of-body moment if he should be returning the favour.
no, no, that's not in his realm of experience. hiding beneath his wing as they walk imposingly into the bar with a smattering of patrons who are—after a quick check on the door and its bell's announcement—content to ignore them, his hand emerges to point at a quiet spot in the back. amply large seats sit in a nook that'll segregate them from an audience, the witch preferring his dates private, especially as envious as he is of the occasional glance eren is paid by the larger monster species. thanks to the green cometfly from earlier, jonas side-eyes them, hand settling on the small of eren's back in a possessive gesture.)
Hey, focus on your drink, buddy– (muttered to a witch who immediately averts his gaze to pay rapt attention to the book he's reading,) uh, sorry; we can sit. I've been studying a lot of abjuration and enchantment? Support stuff, mainly, so I can focus on protecting people. I didn't want to go too aggro with everything, since I-I don't know. Hurting people isn't up my alley.
(manoeuvres himself into their comfy niche, hand up immediately to flag down a server. he needs something to take the edge off, or he'll be stuttering like a fool all evening, and it's become obvious—by the lack of outdoor influence—that jonas is unbonded and practically shedding magic, aura a cool, fresh breath of air.)
Makes me a pretty effective sidekick... what are you having, Eren?
[ eren relinquishes a curt sound of affirmation. he had yet to tell jonas that he arrived here at seventeen and skipped up to twenty in a year, but that was all in the hands of the timelessness in aefenglom compared to the other worlds so far from here. it almost reminded him of paths, where the flow of time and space don't follow the general rules of present-day events, always forward and never back. in paths, you can do pirouettes in every fucking direction.
he wasn't paying enough attention to any monsters that had eyed him for whatever reason, eyes on jonas instead and how the short locks of hair around his forehead fell and split— did something happen? did he need to kill someone? he had a knife.
the bit of palm pressure just above the ridge of where spines (thin, if they don't erect like now) that lead down to his tail is more than enough of a distraction. nothing else is happening except this and this was. nice. the equivalent of putting a hand on his thigh and uh,
this is fine. when they do sit, eren rustles his wings back to his sides, almost reluctantly. his hands and talons say plenty when they sneak ghosting to the back of jonas' neck before eren's hands are on his own lap. his hair felt as nice between his fingers as he thought. like satin (it probably wasn't, but red cometflies exaggerate every detail into a miracle). the dragon's fleeting tongue dances over his digits for a second that only seemed accidental by how fast it happened. jonas smell, and he's radiating magic like a nuclear furnace.
delicious wouldn't be the word he'd use for his massive magical appetite, but i'm using it. as jonas speaks, his words get an astounded sort of glance, regardless. hurting people isn't up my alley, and talk about being a sidekick-? ]
Uh— Whiskey. [ starting strong. get in the zone. nothing else really works for him where drinks are concerned. he almost got more distracted than he already was, and attempts to get his attention with a quiet hey, ] You know— that's not a bad thing, right?
[ coming from someone on the complete opposite spectrum with zero pride and neck-deep in spiraling depression. no. and that isn't even sidekick status. ]
(talons. talons. they slink featherlight across the back of his neck and he shivers with an instinctual raising of his shoulders. this is– well, it's an intimate venue and jonas feels as though he might be leading this guy on. that, or the cometflies are and when the smoke of this awkward bomb clears they'll be lying in a pile of awkward rubble. red in the face, clutching the hand that's been flitted against with a reptilian tongue, the witch tries not to casually die.
the waiter who catches eren's order waits for jonas' with as astounding amount of patience for his very sly, very purposeful slide closer to eren to reach for one of the menus, then simply orders the same. a beer would've been nice, but the enviousness in his chest makes him frown and demand a whiskey for himself. that'll warm them up, as if they weren't hot and bothered already.)
Oh, not– not at all. I mean, not protecting people or being... a support. I like it a lot, actually. I think it's what I was made to do. (careful of eren's wing, ensuring he doesn't catch on spiny elbows or anything that could stick them together in a less than affectionate way, jonas gives the dragon a very fond, very appreciative smile. it's kind of him; sasuke said the same thing, warning him away from calling himself a sidekick in people's lives.) Plus I get to take a backseat and watch all your guys' sick moves. Pretty smart, right?
(leaning onto the table with an elbow to prop his face up by the jaw, concentrating on eren's form and function. apart from the agony it seems to take to moult into a higher form, would it be cool to live as a dragon? think in similar ways, eat what they eat, breathe fire with the great bellow of a chest so warm he can practically feel that sweet, sweet temperature from here.
this fucking blue cometfly. jonas has half a mind to check the back of his jacket to see if the stains are fading—they're not—but that'd be too conspicuous. maybe he'll excuse himself to the washroom later. their drinks arrive on that thought and he wets his lips, quick service in a place sparsely populated in the ongoing meteor shower.)
Whew, whiskey's... it's stronger here than at home. Good lord. (yikes, while true it's more than he's inexperienced with it, far more fond of mixed drinks. like a woob.) How have we not met until now? Do you live close by, or maybe outside the city? I think– actually, I remember Stiles talking about you. He went on that trip to the Wildes with you guys.
Are you– this is gonna' sound rude. I just worry about everyone travelling too much out there. Do you... fight, I guess? You good at that?
[ oh, there was— actually a reason for that. and he should mention such, has a tug in his gut that tells him to, blindly. the smile sent to him makes his chest flutter like a fucking butterfly house. ]
Been fighting my whole life. [ was it something he was good at, though? ] If I’m any good, it’s because of persistence.
[ otherwise, he wouldn’t have climbed high enough to learn. not even his hand to hand skills were the best, he came in, perhaps, third in his class? he knows he can put up a good fight, but he also knows . . . there’re plenty, plenty of people better than him. there’re people who give him a hard time, make him sweat and work for it. honestly, he wasn’t high powered at all. the only thing that could truly diferencia-te him from many others was his inability to desist. he wants to bring the drink to his lips, stops for a second, only to add: ]
I’ve been hanging low, though. The last two months. [ specifically these last two months, in which one (1) mikasa ackerman has shown her face and eren is too much of a weenie to face her. it was difficult enough to see the face she made at him the first time, when they were in liberio. after everything, it’s even harder. but, new beginnings start here, don’t they? it’s probably a golden rule not to bring up exes of anything. ] Looks like I made the wrong call, huh?
[ might be feeling just a touch remorseful, with the way his smile canters into an apologetic pull, but at the same time— a happier one, he decides, clicking his talons against his glass, and lifting his drink to clink against jonas’. ]
(persistence. he had trouble with that in life. now, in death, hard work comes easily to him. go fucking figure.
jonas feels the need to reassure eren somehow, that even if he isn't—or is, by the sounds of it—"good" by his own standards then he certainly would be to him. of course, he frets over whether or not he'd consider it pitying, but better to chance it than to not.)
I mean, it... sounds impressive. Sad, you know, having to fight for that long, but... (ah, well, ducks his head when their glasses clink, a bit hot under the collar from the steady attention,) it's cool. I think so, anyway. Being a dragon must help regardless. I don't know the first thing about combat or anything, besides a few scraps.
(leaves his drink near eren's after a long swig that he feels in his veins, settling back in his seat.)
You did, though. Make the wrong call. (bluntly, though a brief sidelong check of his expression can tell his date he's teasing him rather fondly, wanting to protect the good mood and keep spirits higher.) Now we're hanging out, having drinks... I needed a break from everything, just two seconds to breathe, so this is great. Zero complaints.
[ you’ve only made it in life when you’ve died, ask eren!!!! while the dragon can’t quite come up with anything to retaliate, he does chuckle. a breathy one that shows hasn’t had much exercise in having an outgoing chortle that could be heard from all. the way his lips pull up shows that he really should smile more, a reminder that only came to peck at him when he’d expect less.
it’s okay to stay elbow to elbow, isn’t it? ]
What kind of scraps?
[ it piques his interest enough to rewind to it, as well as making a silent call that he agreed. jonas jaeger is absolutely correct: eren was wrong in not coming out and they’re having a fantastic time he didn’t want to get rid of, with or without the urging of a red cometfly. it’s been a while since he’s just hung around someone— chill, as the modern folks say. ]
(more than okay. they both benefit, jonas leeching heat where he'd been so frigid before. it's perfectly comfortable, allowing him to relax out of his awkward tension.)
If people stepped to me and got in my face, or whatever... like, you'd have to shove 'em away or way more physical if they chose to keep harassing you. (those guys were a dime a dozen, all talk with nothing to back it up. a few of his "friends" were in serious tussles, though. ones he witnessed and wisely tried to break up before someone called the cops.) I've really never been in any real fights, nobody actually wanted to follow through. Thankfully.
I have hurt someone bad... even if I didn't want to. That was– it was one-sided on my end. Not proud of it.
(a shrug, because it is what it is now. there's no changing that.) I'm just freaked out people I know here might get into some trouble and I won't know what to do about it. That's why I'm gonna' try to learn, I guess. On top of the magic and stuff, which... only goes so far, you know what I mean?
I can get that more than anyone. [ especially having far less than zero pride in hurting people. it’s all he’s done recently and all he seems he could do, given the circumstance— he just couldn’t regret it, and doesn’t look back to.
the need to help would’ve sparked either way, if he hadn’t been stained with red and his scales equally colorful enough to peacock the entire time they sit, but the urge bubbles enough that it skyrockets from his chest and makes him eager. lightbulb! 💡 ]
What do you feel about self defense? Not just magic, I mean, [ if he grabbed his collar, he’d get the idea. eren’s talons clip and compact the fabric of his sweater into a fistful of presage that doesn’t quite match his expression. some boom some draconic fucking danger there for less than half a second before he’s very quick to let go, otherwise, smoothing down the wrinkles . . . yes ] physically.
[ 👀 yes ]
Edited (one day, i won’t typo) 2020-04-26 12:46 (UTC)
(jonas barely has time to form another thought, arm coming up like a bar across a barrel chest to stop eren's lean that scares the next breath out of him in a sharp exhale. with claws like a vice in the front of his hoodie, his eyes shut tight with a tilt of his head in anticipation of a strike to the face or body, which proves very quickly and very obviously that he has little to no fighting experience.)
J-Jesus! (patted at, tugged sweater flattened by eren seeing to the new, rumpled state of him, jonas grabs at talons with a tightening of fingers.) What– what do I feel about it? Not good, so– what the hell was that?
(there's not much more to say, when they're in such close proximity, finding it difficult to swallow when his face gets as tomato red as it does. out of embarrassment, flustered, yes; less out of fear now than before. maybe he's not cut out for physical fights, even if his stature says the opposite. jonas has to focus instead on flashy scales that betray how the dragon's feeling.
they calm him out of his momentary panic.)
... oh, dick move, man. (time to laugh this off wheezily like it never! happened!) But point taken; I clearly don't know how to defend myself.
[ the recoil was powerful enough to knock eren emotionally backwards. flying. boom! to a wall. the moe in jonas is too fucking strong for him and it all backfired in a way that the intention whiplashes the dragon straight in the gut.
something in his chest aches deep and he wishes he hadn’t gotten so enthusiastic about eleven times now that he’s smoothing the witch’s shoulder for the fourth time, in his head. ]
—It was. [ like a massive. dick. move. with both sides faltering, seeing through to a recovery was in sights and eren grabs for the opportunity like water in a desert. ] I’m— sorry, I, [ this is about to look increasingly shoujou— eren doesn’t think twice to clap his hand freely around human fingers gripping for his claws. unable to get the flinch out of repeating in his head, he claps again, this time in a more companion-like one-two over the top of his hand. firm shake. you’re good. you’re okay, and most important of all: ] wouldn’t hurt you.
[ he wouldn’t hope to ever create the circumstance. satan, be gone with those thoughts, you’re unwelcome here. ]
I wanted— [ he swallows dry. he swallows goddamn dry that not even faking the sound of his throat clearing would help how thick it felt, but the staring, believe it or not, brings him some ease. something soft at the back of his mind tells him that staring at a colorful display is a promising thing. maybe in the end, it all worked toward success, but he’d rather have it without the scare. it doesn’t taste good. ] I could teach you, if you want.
Hey, I know, It's okay. (it's not, but jonas doesn't have the right amount of self-esteem to be able to rally against it. eren seems genuinely regretful, which makes the—joke? test?—moment tenser than he meant to make it, which is why his fingers loosen around talons to revel how warm their are over the back of his own hand.)
I'd– honestly, I really think I need to... at least try to learn. (confidence... waning.) You'd really be down for that? Like... it wouldn't suck for you, would it?
(eren's generously offering training and here jonas is waffling. he's never been one to make bold, decisive plans, but maybe it's time he tried it out. his date seems receptive if their handholding is any indication, they're getting along, and despite the scare he seems like a nice enough guy. why not?)
[ oh, holding,,,,, hands, now. by the time he realizes that his weight has settled and they’re in this weird little cup, it’s too late to retreat any of his fingers beyond a safe little curl. this is fine. this is actually excellent. the fuzz-buzz in his belly is pleasant and. ]
I had a good teacher. If I could pass on some of what she did, I’d be glad.
[ he might not be a good teacher, he hasn’t taught long enough to know if he was, but he’s given some pointers here and there. couple it with magic, and a witch might be able to do some gnarly things with something as simple as takedown or mount. eren’s worried fizz deflates enough to have a conciliatory smile replace most of the nervous energy. vibrating inside and even feeling his ribs hum with each beat, his thumb brushes once. brushes a second!! a fidgety sort of movement that has too much spirit to hold. ]
I’d love it— [ like he loved all of this right now?! wetting his lips with a flicking tongue, forked tip between his teeth, he adds: ] Earlier wasn’t okay, though. You can be honest with me.
(seems to realize how close they are and where their hands are clasped in solidarity when eren's thumb brushes at skin, ears and cheeks immediately darkening with the burn of blood. oh lord, they're– oh boy. this really is a date, isn't it. he's on a date with a dragon man a solid foot taller than him, all wings, spines, and scales. swallows thickly, trying to find his chill again.
focus on the words coming out of eren's mouth.)
Then, uh. (out of his fucking element and enjoying the fluttery nervousness in his gut that reminds him he hasn't done something quite this normal in months—it's, dare he say it, nice.) Then, yes. Yeah, I'm in.
I was a little freaked out, but that's par for the course here. I think I'm just– well, you know. I've never been in any real danger before, until Aefenglom. It wasn't okay, it really wasn't, though... I should learn how to become okay with it. Does that make sense? I don't know what I'm saying anymore, my neurons have all fired and died and I am still holding your hands.
(oohhhhhhhhh nooooooooo)
God, Jesus Christ, I am the most embarrassing person in any dimension. C-Can– I need a drink.
[ jonas is babbling restlessly and, hello, operator i’d like to a report an emergency: it’s been years since eren hasn’t smiled so much. it doesn’t. cease!!! it doesn’t go away. it just gets all the more softer and courteous and, hand clapping is an addictive thing he’s not really going to stop doing, is he. no. he may not ultimately realize where the excitability comes from until it’s said, and even then his fondness only rises like the thumping in his ears.
“live a little”, they said to him. mikleo, elliot, sokie— and more. he hasn’t had a sound, normal young adult experience in who knows how long or even never. even if cometflies had been the one to give him the push, the rest? the rest was sought after. he couldn’t say it wasn’t great.
what a life, if he had the freedom to live one like this. ]
—Sure.
[ jonas will lose a hand, but only so that he could pour them some extra shots of whiskey. they could cheers to that. ]
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... so you've been through the ringer before. It's difficult to believe it's been over two months for me, so I can't imagine a year. It... it must go by more quickly as time goes on. (wants to ask him more and will, but his shoulder's being pecked at by talons that glint like a natural blue topaz. they sort through the layers of his military jacket and hoodie, and he's surprised to report that it doesn't feel intrusive. feels preened, if anything, heart in his throat as he wonders for one out-of-body moment if he should be returning the favour.
no, no, that's not in his realm of experience. hiding beneath his wing as they walk imposingly into the bar with a smattering of patrons who are—after a quick check on the door and its bell's announcement—content to ignore them, his hand emerges to point at a quiet spot in the back. amply large seats sit in a nook that'll segregate them from an audience, the witch preferring his dates private, especially as envious as he is of the occasional glance eren is paid by the larger monster species. thanks to the green cometfly from earlier, jonas side-eyes them, hand settling on the small of eren's back in a possessive gesture.)
Hey, focus on your drink, buddy– (muttered to a witch who immediately averts his gaze to pay rapt attention to the book he's reading,) uh, sorry; we can sit. I've been studying a lot of abjuration and enchantment? Support stuff, mainly, so I can focus on protecting people. I didn't want to go too aggro with everything, since I-I don't know. Hurting people isn't up my alley.
(manoeuvres himself into their comfy niche, hand up immediately to flag down a server. he needs something to take the edge off, or he'll be stuttering like a fool all evening, and it's become obvious—by the lack of outdoor influence—that jonas is unbonded and practically shedding magic, aura a cool, fresh breath of air.)
Makes me a pretty effective sidekick... what are you having, Eren?
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he wasn't paying enough attention to any monsters that had eyed him for whatever reason, eyes on jonas instead and how the short locks of hair around his forehead fell and split— did something happen? did he need to kill someone? he had a knife.
the bit of palm pressure just above the ridge of where spines (thin, if they don't erect like now) that lead down to his tail is more than enough of a distraction. nothing else is happening except this and this was. nice. the equivalent of putting a hand on his thigh and uh,
this is fine. when they do sit, eren rustles his wings back to his sides, almost reluctantly. his hands and talons say plenty when they sneak ghosting to the back of jonas' neck before eren's hands are on his own lap. his hair felt as nice between his fingers as he thought. like satin (it probably wasn't, but red cometflies exaggerate every detail into a miracle). the dragon's fleeting tongue dances over his digits for a second that only seemed accidental by how fast it happened. jonas smell, and he's radiating magic like a nuclear furnace.
delicious wouldn't be the word he'd use for his massive magical appetite, but i'm using it. as jonas speaks, his words get an astounded sort of glance, regardless. hurting people isn't up my alley, and talk about being a sidekick-? ]
Uh— Whiskey. [ starting strong. get in the zone. nothing else really works for him where drinks are concerned. he almost got more distracted than he already was, and attempts to get his attention with a quiet hey, ] You know— that's not a bad thing, right?
[ coming from someone on the complete opposite spectrum with zero pride and neck-deep in spiraling depression. no. and that isn't even sidekick status. ]
"Sidekick" is pretty debasing for it.
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the waiter who catches eren's order waits for jonas' with as astounding amount of patience for his very sly, very purposeful slide closer to eren to reach for one of the menus, then simply orders the same. a beer would've been nice, but the enviousness in his chest makes him frown and demand a whiskey for himself. that'll warm them up, as if they weren't hot and bothered already.)
Oh, not– not at all. I mean, not protecting people or being... a support. I like it a lot, actually. I think it's what I was made to do. (careful of eren's wing, ensuring he doesn't catch on spiny elbows or anything that could stick them together in a less than affectionate way, jonas gives the dragon a very fond, very appreciative smile. it's kind of him; sasuke said the same thing, warning him away from calling himself a sidekick in people's lives.) Plus I get to take a backseat and watch all your guys' sick moves. Pretty smart, right?
(leaning onto the table with an elbow to prop his face up by the jaw, concentrating on eren's form and function. apart from the agony it seems to take to moult into a higher form, would it be cool to live as a dragon? think in similar ways, eat what they eat, breathe fire with the great bellow of a chest so warm he can practically feel that sweet, sweet temperature from here.
this fucking blue cometfly. jonas has half a mind to check the back of his jacket to see if the stains are fading—they're not—but that'd be too conspicuous. maybe he'll excuse himself to the washroom later. their drinks arrive on that thought and he wets his lips, quick service in a place sparsely populated in the ongoing meteor shower.)
Whew, whiskey's... it's stronger here than at home. Good lord. (yikes, while true it's more than he's inexperienced with it, far more fond of mixed drinks. like a woob.) How have we not met until now? Do you live close by, or maybe outside the city? I think– actually, I remember Stiles talking about you. He went on that trip to the Wildes with you guys.
Are you– this is gonna' sound rude. I just worry about everyone travelling too much out there. Do you... fight, I guess? You good at that?
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Been fighting my whole life. [ was it something he was good at, though? ] If I’m any good, it’s because of persistence.
[ otherwise, he wouldn’t have climbed high enough to learn. not even his hand to hand skills were the best, he came in, perhaps, third in his class? he knows he can put up a good fight, but he also knows . . . there’re plenty, plenty of people better than him. there’re people who give him a hard time, make him sweat and work for it. honestly, he wasn’t high powered at all. the only thing that could truly diferencia-te him from many others was his inability to desist. he wants to bring the drink to his lips, stops for a second, only to add: ]
I’ve been hanging low, though. The last two months. [ specifically these last two months, in which one (1) mikasa ackerman has shown her face and eren is too much of a weenie to face her. it was difficult enough to see the face she made at him the first time, when they were in liberio. after everything, it’s even harder. but, new beginnings start here, don’t they? it’s probably a golden rule not to bring up exes of anything. ] Looks like I made the wrong call, huh?
[ might be feeling just a touch remorseful, with the way his smile canters into an apologetic pull, but at the same time— a happier one, he decides, clicking his talons against his glass, and lifting his drink to clink against jonas’. ]
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jonas feels the need to reassure eren somehow, that even if he isn't—or is, by the sounds of it—"good" by his own standards then he certainly would be to him. of course, he frets over whether or not he'd consider it pitying, but better to chance it than to not.)
I mean, it... sounds impressive. Sad, you know, having to fight for that long, but... (ah, well, ducks his head when their glasses clink, a bit hot under the collar from the steady attention,) it's cool. I think so, anyway. Being a dragon must help regardless. I don't know the first thing about combat or anything, besides a few scraps.
(leaves his drink near eren's after a long swig that he feels in his veins, settling back in his seat.)
You did, though. Make the wrong call. (bluntly, though a brief sidelong check of his expression can tell his date he's teasing him rather fondly, wanting to protect the good mood and keep spirits higher.) Now we're hanging out, having drinks... I needed a break from everything, just two seconds to breathe, so this is great. Zero complaints.
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it’s okay to stay elbow to elbow, isn’t it? ]
What kind of scraps?
[ it piques his interest enough to rewind to it, as well as making a silent call that he agreed. jonas jaeger is absolutely correct: eren was wrong in not coming out and they’re having a fantastic time he didn’t want to get rid of, with or without the urging of a red cometfly. it’s been a while since he’s just hung around someone— chill, as the modern folks say. ]
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If people stepped to me and got in my face, or whatever... like, you'd have to shove 'em away or way more physical if they chose to keep harassing you. (those guys were a dime a dozen, all talk with nothing to back it up. a few of his "friends" were in serious tussles, though. ones he witnessed and wisely tried to break up before someone called the cops.) I've really never been in any real fights, nobody actually wanted to follow through. Thankfully.
I have hurt someone bad... even if I didn't want to. That was– it was one-sided on my end. Not proud of it.
(a shrug, because it is what it is now. there's no changing that.) I'm just freaked out people I know here might get into some trouble and I won't know what to do about it. That's why I'm gonna' try to learn, I guess. On top of the magic and stuff, which... only goes so far, you know what I mean?
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the need to help would’ve sparked either way, if he hadn’t been stained with red and his scales equally colorful enough to peacock the entire time they sit, but the urge bubbles enough that it skyrockets from his chest and makes him eager. lightbulb! 💡 ]
What do you feel about self defense? Not just magic, I mean, [ if he grabbed his collar, he’d get the idea. eren’s talons clip and compact the fabric of his sweater into a fistful of presage that doesn’t quite match his expression. some boom some draconic fucking danger there for less than half a second before he’s very quick to let go, otherwise, smoothing down the wrinkles . . . yes ] physically.
[ 👀 yes ]
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J-Jesus! (patted at, tugged sweater flattened by eren seeing to the new, rumpled state of him, jonas grabs at talons with a tightening of fingers.) What– what do I feel about it? Not good, so– what the hell was that?
(there's not much more to say, when they're in such close proximity, finding it difficult to swallow when his face gets as tomato red as it does. out of embarrassment, flustered, yes; less out of fear now than before. maybe he's not cut out for physical fights, even if his stature says the opposite. jonas has to focus instead on flashy scales that betray how the dragon's feeling.
they calm him out of his momentary panic.)
... oh, dick move, man. (time to laugh this off wheezily like it never! happened!) But point taken; I clearly don't know how to defend myself.
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something in his chest aches deep and he wishes he hadn’t gotten so enthusiastic about eleven times now that he’s smoothing the witch’s shoulder for the fourth time, in his head. ]
—It was. [ like a massive. dick. move. with both sides faltering, seeing through to a recovery was in sights and eren grabs for the opportunity like water in a desert. ] I’m— sorry, I, [ this is about to look increasingly shoujou— eren doesn’t think twice to clap his hand freely around human fingers gripping for his claws. unable to get the flinch out of repeating in his head, he claps again, this time in a more companion-like one-two over the top of his hand. firm shake. you’re good. you’re okay, and most important of all: ] wouldn’t hurt you.
[ he wouldn’t hope to ever create the circumstance. satan, be gone with those thoughts, you’re unwelcome here. ]
I wanted— [ he swallows dry. he swallows goddamn dry that not even faking the sound of his throat clearing would help how thick it felt, but the staring, believe it or not, brings him some ease. something soft at the back of his mind tells him that staring at a colorful display is a promising thing. maybe in the end, it all worked toward success, but he’d rather have it without the scare. it doesn’t taste good. ] I could teach you, if you want.
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I'd– honestly, I really think I need to... at least try to learn. (confidence... waning.) You'd really be down for that? Like... it wouldn't suck for you, would it?
(eren's generously offering training and here jonas is waffling. he's never been one to make bold, decisive plans, but maybe it's time he tried it out. his date seems receptive if their handholding is any indication, they're getting along, and despite the scare he seems like a nice enough guy. why not?)
I'm game if you are. Sounds pretty fun, actually.
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I had a good teacher. If I could pass on some of what she did, I’d be glad.
[ he might not be a good teacher, he hasn’t taught long enough to know if he was, but he’s given some pointers here and there. couple it with magic, and a witch might be able to do some gnarly things with something as simple as takedown or mount. eren’s worried fizz deflates enough to have a conciliatory smile replace most of the nervous energy. vibrating inside and even feeling his ribs hum with each beat, his thumb brushes once. brushes a second!! a fidgety sort of movement that has too much spirit to hold. ]
I’d love it— [ like he loved all of this right now?! wetting his lips with a flicking tongue, forked tip between his teeth, he adds: ] Earlier wasn’t okay, though. You can be honest with me.
[ that’s how marriage works ]
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(seems to realize how close they are and where their hands are clasped in solidarity when eren's thumb brushes at skin, ears and cheeks immediately darkening with the burn of blood. oh lord, they're– oh boy. this really is a date, isn't it. he's on a date with a dragon man a solid foot taller than him, all wings, spines, and scales. swallows thickly, trying to find his chill again.
focus on the words coming out of eren's mouth.)
Then, uh. (out of his fucking element and enjoying the fluttery nervousness in his gut that reminds him he hasn't done something quite this normal in months—it's, dare he say it, nice.) Then, yes. Yeah, I'm in.
I was a little freaked out, but that's par for the course here. I think I'm just– well, you know. I've never been in any real danger before, until Aefenglom. It wasn't okay, it really wasn't, though... I should learn how to become okay with it. Does that make sense? I don't know what I'm saying anymore, my neurons have all fired and died and I am still holding your hands.
(oohhhhhhhhh nooooooooo)
God, Jesus Christ, I am the most embarrassing person in any dimension. C-Can– I need a drink.
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“live a little”, they said to him. mikleo, elliot, sokie— and more. he hasn’t had a sound, normal young adult experience in who knows how long or even never. even if cometflies had been the one to give him the push, the rest? the rest was sought after. he couldn’t say it wasn’t great.
what a life, if he had the freedom to live one like this. ]
—Sure.
[ jonas will lose a hand, but only so that he could pour them some extra shots of whiskey. they could cheers to that. ]