SHERRY'S PENINSULA
YARIS 20, 2719 - LATE NIGHT
YARIS 20, 2719 - LATE NIGHT
His companion was hardly of any help, holding uselessly onto the dead man's shirt collar as if dragging him by that made any difference. It didn't, and Lars was left to carry the weight of it himself, and his frustration was obvious in his face. If he'd had a field, it would've been pulsing with annoyance, if only to get his blonde companion to drop the man's collar and just admit to his laziness.
"You've gotten so lax," he couldn't help but say, gray eyes meeting blue when his companion turned his head to look at him. The blonde didn't seem bothered by the comment, and in fact he only laughed, the sound a familiar and often disconcerting one. He didn't laugh much unless it was at someone else's expense, and more often than not, it was at Lars' own. Still, he found himself loosening up nonetheless, his expression softening slightly.
"Don't laugh at me," the passive objected, "you know I'm right. What, are you hurting your finger on his collar?"
"No," replied the blonde, a smile curving his lips, "I was just waiting to see how long you'd do it yourself."
Finally he shifted his grip, hands moving to shoo Lars' from beneath the man's shoulders, replacing them just as quickly. He threw another glance at the white-haired man beside him, continuing to walk along the beach as if he was still only holding a collar.
"You're a real brat, Lars," he felt himself start to laugh, then, the sound bubbling forth from his chest. Light eyes followed his companion's silhouette as he walked alongside him, Osa's light doing what it could to illuminate him at the edges. His companion's hair was almost as pale as his own, out here, washed out against the dark, glimmering sea that surrounded them. He must've noticed his staring, because soon enough the blonde was glancing over, staring at his own companion just the same.
He could imagine the little lights glinting off of gray eyes were but stars in a sea of infinite other worlds, and that there were just as many possibilities behind them. The possibility for good, for evil, for everything in between. He could imagine the bruises on his face were nothing but the night sky seeping through, as if within his very body he housed the heavens, as if beneath skin and flesh there rested moonlight in place of blood.
And he wondered, then, why he imagined such things, and turned a blue gaze away from gray.
"I can't hear what you're thinking," he said then, almost accusatory in tone - but the other didn't seem to mind the shift, or he just didn't believe it's authenticity.
"I'm not thinking anything," admitted Lars, quiet in comparison to the blonde. The response did well to calm whatever inquiries he'd suddenly acquired, and he finally let the corpse slip from his arms and fully to the sand beneath them. The man dropped with a muted sound, and both passives allowed sighs to slip from their lips.
"Well, we're here. We probably didn't need to come all the way out here."
"We didn't have anything else to do, anyway."
"Oh, besides.... sleep?"
"Come on, just push him into the water. Kick him a bit farther out if you can."
The blonde only hummed in response, shooting Lars another well-intentioned glare as he bent down to grab the body again. He didn't lift him up this time, but stepped out into the water, and walked until his knees were soaked and the corpse had become lighter in his hold, suspended partially by the sea. After pulling his arms free, he pushed against the cold husk with as much force as he could muster, sending him farther away and out of reach.
"That should do it," he made his way back to shore a bit slower, weighed down now by the liquid that clung to his shoes and trousers. As soon as he got close enough to the other Hessean, a grin split across his face, and he shot forward to push him, instead, backward and into the water water.
"Hey!" Lars practically squawked, fortunately falling far enough that he didn't simply bash his head against the wet sand beneath the water, but was saved by the sudden drop-off and the arms that had slipped around his waist in the pushing process. They resurfaced moments later, blonde and white hair alike drenched and stuck to their foreheads. Lars pushed at the other's chest in protest, but his face betrayed him; he was smiling, perhaps brighter than he had in a long time, and the expression was mirrored in the blonde.
"You are a brat," reiterated the passive, finding it almost difficult to speak through his smile, "you can't ever just let me be, can you?"
"No, I don't think I can. It's kind of painful to let you be. And your smile - gods, its annoying."
"Is it? You don't seem very annoyed."
The blonde was silenced for a moment, his smile almost beginning to fade - but it was renewed just as soon, taking on a more conniving (and perhaps malicious) image. "You know I'm a great actor. That's why I get to work and you get to relax, right?"
It was Lars' turn to be quiet, and he simply stared, looking at the blonde through curious (and almost... sad) eyes, mouth opening and closing once or twice before he found the right words.
"I didn't - uh. Yeah. I.... did you... did you want me to do it instead?"
No, those weren't the right words - how had he just been chatting easily moments before? He'd never known how to talk to people, even when those people were himself - and this was only a testament to that. He had always found it easier to not speak, lest he screwed everything up as he was prone to do.
"Oh, stop it. Don't.... I didn't mean it seriously," the harsh smile softened into something warmer - not another smile, but the hint of a frown, and the evidence of concern. A hand lifted out of the water, resting against Lars' bruised cheek, and he breathed out another sigh.
"Let's get out of the water, it's getting fuckin' cold in here. Let's go home, yeah?"
Lars found it in himself, somewhere, to smile again, even if it was a small, shy gesture.
"Okay. Let's go home."
