Oscar

Oscar had certainly made his bed with this party. Now, he had to lie in it. He was in good company, he thought. But he thought that he could handle it. His own den of desire, a corner of their virtual prison clawed out from Cardinal’s hands. It was his. He wanted to share it. But now, his entire being screamed at him to leave it behind. This was dangerous. Intense. She would be the death of him. Some part of him, at least. Notions he had about his own state of being shattered as she looked up at him. She trembled. He did too. Why? What wound them so tightly together? What a

“I know enough,” Oscar said. Best to not get too close. Last thing he needed was the guilt that came from humanizing his targets. His last mental had brought him to the edge of Aincrad - almost careening off of it. It was a complicated thing, his little blood feud. He was sure that, at some point, the members had their reasons. But that had long since become irrelevant. So long as their mission was to kill other Players, someone needed to be the one to kill them back. “Shop talk is boring, anyway,” he said, an air of conclusion to his tone. He’d not brought Mari here to plunder her for in

“Most would call that hedonism,” Oscar replied, his voice muffled against her jaw. There was something intoxicating about this woman. Like the stiffest drink he’d ever had - he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so foggy. There was something about her. The way she carried herself. As if she were partaking in something she had long since denied. Or… Perhaps she was ignorant of its existence. Words spoken just moments prior seemed so far away. But it was in her manner of speech, the way she carried herself. Magnanimous in every sense of the word. Grace that the geniuses of old had the hubri

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The mystery only deepened. She spoke of her village, of Hunters. Oscar bit back the urge to ask how she had gone from there to here. Just what was her story? Certainly such places existed. A place where Hunters would be so venerated. Answers and questions had been supplied in equal measure. It explained her uncertainty and her mis-speaking. But it begged more questions. How could she grow to be so ignorant of something as fundamental as desire? And what of those etchings on her back? Those would come later. Now was not the time to share life stories. But he couldn't deny that he fit her descri

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Oscar had only been nebulously aware of Laughing Coffin and their ranking Fingers. Truth be told, like with most things, he didn’t take them seriously. The web had been woven in such a way that he could deal with them any time he damn well pleased, but there were rules. And they were in something of a Mexican standoff. Oscar couldn’t very well police them across all the floors. Just the one. And if they didn’t trespass, Oscar wouldn’t trespass. At least not yet. But color him surprised when one of their Fingers defected. The rumors had found their way to his ears. Defected and survived. W

The conversation had turned serious. As they stopped in front of the bakery, the whole vibe changed. Still friendly, but the air was heavy. But Oscar stopped and listened. He appreciated the candor. And he appreciated the fun history lesson that Lessa so unceremoniously dumped on his plate. He probably shouldn’t have. The topic was too serious, responses needed to be measured. But he simply couldn’t help himself. Staring straight into her eyes, the laughter escaped him. Loud, boisterous - bringing tears to his eyes. He couldn’t stand up straight, holding his stomach as he doubled over. His bre

“The freedom to want freely is a novelty. The freedom to act on those desires, even moreso,” Oscar replied. “That’s the point of the evening. To unashamedly chase that which you want.” He had to admit to himself that she was right. People had worn themselves to dust in the name of desire. Wars fought, nations burned to ash. They wanted what they couldn’t have. Be it the love of a woman or the fertile lands of a neighbor. And so it drove them to bring their new enemy to ruin, only to find that to be their reward at the end of it all. But there was a key difference with this energy that bui

“Not a game,” Oscar corrected. Though it was a close approximation. The way that she spoke left him wondering if she'd ever really *wanted.* There was something ethereal about her. In short, she was an oddity the likes of which Oscar had never seen before. As they danced, his hand moved up - not down. Seeking skin, heat. Connection. Sensations heightened - sight and hearing and touch. That which might have escaped his notice felt all too keen. His fingertips played at the small of her back, feeling raised skin and tracing those contours. Music swelled, fingertips moved as their feet did - danc