[ goodbye hand #492. imorax has severed ajax's liquid limbs before. he's seen how quickly those limbs reform, how the hydro braids itself back into its length and appendages. it's easy to mistake this as easy and painless—hydro doesn't have nerves or blood or bones to break—but morax's memory is endless and accurate. he's sprayed enough saltwater to see pain flash across ajax's face when morax cuts too close to his flesh. it's extremely rare when he shows it, and it can only be understood by someone who's seen what pain looks like across a god's face.
morax remembers this when this latest hand spatters into glittering blue specks. ajax plays it off, teasing and trying to disarm him, and irritation tightens in morax's chest. in the early throes of their companionship, he had no trouble with slicing and carving the god of waves into pieces. now, incomprehensible as it was, it gets harder to endure the sight of it with each passing day.
he releases all restraint. his eyes glow a deep orange-gold, and suddenly he reaches out and pulls his fist in towards his chest. a torrent of rocks flies in and bullet against the back of ajax's legs until they buckle. as ajax falls, morax spins a perfect, painful kick right against his cheekbone and forces him to the floor with the butt of his polearm.
there, morax drops his knee heavily beside ajax's chest. he grasps ajax's chin in his hand and yanks it upward to face him. rocks fall and shackle his wrists against the floor, and in a flash, vortex vanquisher is pointing at the ball of his throat, close enough to draw a pearl of blue blood from ajax's skin.
morax's golden eyes bore into his. his expression is undaunted and imposing—the look of an unforgiving deity to its errant subject. he isn't even panting for breath. ]
That's enough.
Edited (making it so he's not crushing him w his knee) 2023-02-12 15:39 (UTC)
[It's difficult to catch Ajax off-guard when he's this engaged--all of his attention, perhaps more than he should really spare, fixed on the twist of Morax's hips as he strikes out, the shifting of his footing, the piercing glow of his eyes. But he's not expecting the sudden increase in intensity, especially not when he's partially focused on reforming his hand. Suddenly, Morax's every effort is meant to take him down, and Ajax can't fight that off.
He falls, but before he can even register the breath being knocked out of his body, Morax is there. His grip on Ajax's chin is tight and unyielding, and Ajax can feel the tip of Vortex Vanquisher against his skin, cutting into him with every quick, shallow breath he takes.
Ajax is, dimly, aware of his lips parting for a sound that never comes out, of his heart beating rabbit-fast inside him. A funny thing, that, given that this body is not truly human. He can't bring himself to think about it overmuch, though, not when he can't look away from Morax's eyes.
He holds very still, the two of them caught in a breathless limbo. His face, oddly, feels warm.]
...I yield. [Finally, when he can find his voice again. His weapons vanish with a splash of sparkling seawater, as if to prove the truth of his words.]
[ morax never wanted abject worship. the god of contracts provided care and protection and strategy, and never for any grand rewards or glorification. he didn't ask for the prostrating of subjects at altars, the statues and golden icons, gifts of fruit and wine meant only for him. his people continued with their adulation despite his distaste and disagreement, and eventually he gave up on the endeavor to change their minds, neither addressing nor discouraging it unless explicitly asked.
morax fails those ideals during these silent inbetweens. his battles with ajax almost always end this way, with him suspending ajax's life from a spider's thread and, just for a moment, ajax willfully at his mercy. in his periphery, morax sees the perfect oval of ajax's mouth, the blood dotted on the edge of his lip, the shine of his tongue and teeth in the darkness inside. but morax's focus is on the fathomless blue of his eyes, the blown pupils black as obsidian, the way ajax looks at him like he can see nothing else.
familiar impulses slip into his thoughts like smoke. for thousands of years, morax was distantly aware of the hedonistic customs and exchanges between human beings. until the god of waves arrived, morax never thought of engaging in them himself. now, he briefly imagines testing the softness of ajax's mouth with the tip of his thumb, running his fingers over the warm flush on his cheeks, turning his head and closing ajax's lips with—
he awakens again when ajax's weapons burst into saltwater over the grass. there's no evidence of his previous thoughts except for the slight softening of his gaze, his eyes more narrowed and relaxed. he's pleased by the reaction, and he makes no attempt to hide it. his hold on ajax's jaw hasn't faltered, and vortex vanquisher still holds fast against the bobbing of ajax's throat. ]
Shall I take your word for it, Ajax?
[ because morax knows him well by now. (is there anyone else in the world that knows ajax as well as he does?) if ajax wasn't focused on reshaping his severed hand, he might have slipped it through his shackle and thrown them back into combat. ]
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no subject
morax remembers this when this latest hand spatters into glittering blue specks. ajax plays it off, teasing and trying to disarm him, and irritation tightens in morax's chest. in the early throes of their companionship, he had no trouble with slicing and carving the god of waves into pieces. now, incomprehensible as it was, it gets harder to endure the sight of it with each passing day.
he releases all restraint. his eyes glow a deep orange-gold, and suddenly he reaches out and pulls his fist in towards his chest. a torrent of rocks flies in and bullet against the back of ajax's legs until they buckle. as ajax falls, morax spins a perfect, painful kick right against his cheekbone and forces him to the floor with the butt of his polearm.
there, morax drops his knee heavily beside ajax's chest. he grasps ajax's chin in his hand and yanks it upward to face him. rocks fall and shackle his wrists against the floor, and in a flash, vortex vanquisher is pointing at the ball of his throat, close enough to draw a pearl of blue blood from ajax's skin.
morax's golden eyes bore into his. his expression is undaunted and imposing—the look of an unforgiving deity to its errant subject. he isn't even panting for breath. ]
That's enough.
no subject
He falls, but before he can even register the breath being knocked out of his body, Morax is there. His grip on Ajax's chin is tight and unyielding, and Ajax can feel the tip of Vortex Vanquisher against his skin, cutting into him with every quick, shallow breath he takes.
Ajax is, dimly, aware of his lips parting for a sound that never comes out, of his heart beating rabbit-fast inside him. A funny thing, that, given that this body is not truly human. He can't bring himself to think about it overmuch, though, not when he can't look away from Morax's eyes.
He holds very still, the two of them caught in a breathless limbo. His face, oddly, feels warm.]
...I yield. [Finally, when he can find his voice again. His weapons vanish with a splash of sparkling seawater, as if to prove the truth of his words.]
no subject
morax fails those ideals during these silent inbetweens. his battles with ajax almost always end this way, with him suspending ajax's life from a spider's thread and, just for a moment, ajax willfully at his mercy. in his periphery, morax sees the perfect oval of ajax's mouth, the blood dotted on the edge of his lip, the shine of his tongue and teeth in the darkness inside. but morax's focus is on the fathomless blue of his eyes, the blown pupils black as obsidian, the way ajax looks at him like he can see nothing else.
familiar impulses slip into his thoughts like smoke. for thousands of years, morax was distantly aware of the hedonistic customs and exchanges between human beings. until the god of waves arrived, morax never thought of engaging in them himself. now, he briefly imagines testing the softness of ajax's mouth with the tip of his thumb, running his fingers over the warm flush on his cheeks, turning his head and closing ajax's lips with—
he awakens again when ajax's weapons burst into saltwater over the grass. there's no evidence of his previous thoughts except for the slight softening of his gaze, his eyes more narrowed and relaxed. he's pleased by the reaction, and he makes no attempt to hide it. his hold on ajax's jaw hasn't faltered, and vortex vanquisher still holds fast against the bobbing of ajax's throat. ]
Shall I take your word for it, Ajax?
[ because morax knows him well by now. (is there anyone else in the world that knows ajax as well as he does?) if ajax wasn't focused on reshaping his severed hand, he might have slipped it through his shackle and thrown them back into combat. ]