[PP-F01] Curiosity's Edge

[Bael 1]

Bael crouched just beyond the tree line, eyes fixed on the field where Arsine had paused. The orange cursor above her head pulsed faintly, signaling her presence even amidst the grime and debris clinging to her avatar. He watched as she slammed her fists against the dirt, cursing softly in her native tongue, and then finally drew a long, measured breath. Composure returned, but not the unguarded chaos he had seen earlier.

A smirk tugged at his lips. The woman moved differently than the other players, her focus never wavered, her movements deliberate even in frustration. Something about that drew his attention, kept him rooted in place instead of wandering the plains. He could follow her, he decided, but not too closely. There was no need to intrude. The hot spring she mentioned yesterday, he remembered, was not far from here. If she intended to cleanse herself, he could accompany her, keeping watch from a discreet distance, a silent shadow at the edge of her path.

He rose slowly, greataxe slung across his back, and moved with careful economy, every step measured to avoid disturbing the undergrowth. The plains were quiet this morning, save for the soft rustle of distant wildlife and the low hum of the game itself. He noted the scattered players still lingering at the edges of the field, orange cursors jittering nervously as they observed from afar. None were bold enough to approach, and he allowed himself a brief chuckle. Today, they were merely background noise.

Adjusting his hood, Bael tilted his head toward Arsine's path. The journey to the hot spring would take her across the low ridge and into a sheltered grove where steam would rise from the water. He considered the mimic she had mentioned, spawned in town, something for her to deal with, something to keep her hands occupied while he maintained his vigil. He wasn't here to interfere, not yet. He wanted to see how she handled herself, how she moved through the small chaos she had carved out for herself in this world.

With a silent sigh, Bael settled into the shadow of a rock just off her path, greataxe resting lightly against his shoulder. The sun glinted faintly against the black metal of the haft, catching his eye for only a moment before he returned his focus to her. The plains stretched out around them, quiet, tense, expectant. And he waited, the predator among the tall grass, curious to see how the poison girl would navigate the next part of her day.

* * *

Spoiler

Bael | HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 6 | True Tier: 1

WC: 423

Edited Monday at 10:36 PM by Bael

[Arsine 0]

“Did not want such things…” She mumbled to herself, trying to wipe the slime off her body, memories of the mimic and how it felt still clear in her mind. Disgusting… She hadn’t expected a creature to spawn in the confines of the safe zone. Again, the mans words ran out in her ears, Complacent.

Right…The rules of the game could realistically change any time. Arsine knew that, it's why she was so indulgent. She had attempted to message a number of people, consorts for the evening to aid her - but when they found out she had an orange cursor - they had all told her they were not interested till she was green again.

“Bores…” She muttered. It was a shame she would not find a body to warm her bed that night, and a bigger shame she could not enjoy the comforts of a hot shower in an inn, but at least she would have the hot springs.

Arsine prided herself on being able to keep her composure, so as she leisurely walked down the path, hating the scent, hating the feeling of everything against her skin she didn’t show it. Even as a player caught sight of her, and turned to run in an opposite direction all she did was give them a small smile and a nod. Of course they’d fear her - they would glance upon the orange cursor and assume the worst.

Arsine pulled a cloth from her inventory and paused by a river that would lead down into the sheltered grove. She dipped it into the water and used it to wipe the grime from her face at least, then her arms. With little care to the environment she let the dirtied rag fall to the ground by the riverbed and continued on her path.

Arsine paused just before the hot spring, finding a small patch of Nightshade. “Serendipity, I believe…” She said to herself as she crouched down and collected the sprigs, carefully, meticulously ensuring she didn’t hurt herself, nor squish the dangerous berries. She wrapped them up in a separate piece of linen and placed it safely away before continuing on.

Every now and again she’d stop to collect another herb of some sort. After an hour she had hit the hot springs. No one was around, not that she would care if they were. The woman immediately took off her shoes, clothes, and jewellery and lowered herself into the waters. Leaning back with a sigh.

She really needed this…

No noise. No fighting, no NPCs laughing at her, just peace.

WC:428

Arsine | HP: 320/320 | EN: 50/50 | DMG: 8  | TRue Tier 2

[Bael 1]

Bael had followed at a distance, his boots silent against the soft earth, eyes fixed on the faint shimmer of her cursor ahead. She walked like someone who had accepted the game's cruelty long ago, each step deliberate, neither defiant nor fearful. Her orange cursor pulsed softly in the dim light, a warning to others, an invitation to him.

He watched her pause by the river, dipping a cloth into the water, cleaning her face with slow, methodical motions. She didn't bother to hide her disgust for the slime or the grime, nor did she rush the task. There was something in the rhythm of her movements, careful, almost reverent. He found himself studying the small things: the way her fingers brushed over the linen, the small flicker of relief when she saw her reflection clear just slightly.

When she let the rag fall to the ground, he tilted his head. Wasteful, but fitting. Arsine never pretended to be anyone other than what she was. Indulgent. Controlled chaos wrapped in refinement.

Bael stayed within the shadows of the trees as she made her way toward the grove. The air grew thicker there, warmer. The faint hiss of steam told him they were close. He saw her stop to collect herbs, her precision almost scientific. She handled even poison with care. He smirked quietly to himself. It was an oddly fitting image, her crouched over deadly flowers, serene amidst the danger.

When she finally reached the hot springs, Bael stopped at the edge of the clearing. Steam rose in soft curls from the surface, blurring her form as she began to undress. He didn’t avert his eyes, but neither did he leer. He was watching her ritual, the shedding of grime, of fatigue, of irritation. The slow return to calm. She slipped into the water, leaned back, and exhaled. The sound of that sigh carried across the clearing like a spell meant to unravel the silence.

He waited a few moments longer before moving. His boots pressed softly against the soil as he stepped from the shadows, his presence a quiet disturbance in the peace she’d carved for herself. He stopped behind her, crouching down just out of reach of the steam’s edge, the faint smirk still ghosting across his lips.

"So this is the infamous hot spring, huh?" His voice carried low, rough around the edges, but not hostile. More like an observation than a challenge.

Arsine didn't startle, not that he expected her to. The woman had the composure of someone who had long accepted the unpredictability of the world around her.

Bael leaned his elbow against his knee, eyes scanning the rippling water. "Not a bad place to hide from the world," he said after a pause, the faintest trace of amusement in his tone. "Steam, solitude.. silence. No one brave enough to bother you."

His eyes flicked briefly to the faint shimmer of her orange cursor reflected on the surface. "Almost no one."

* * *

WC: 496

[Arsine 0]

"If you want peek, will cost you." Arsine muttered as she heard heavy footsteps approach. "Must warn, have modesty filter on, still more than you deserve to see."  Arsine made it a habit it turn it on and off during the day and evenings, and it seemed to have been a good call. Not the first time someone tried to take a peek at her - and then yesterday at the docks with the mimic. Her odd habit saving her much grace in those times.

Then, she heard that low growl of a voice. "Ah." Still not moving, she acknowledged who he has. "May need a different name for you. Not sleeping beast." Arsine finally opened her eyes, and ran a wet cloth over her arm. She wouldn't allow his presence to ruin her moment. "Wandering Beast, perhaps?"

She washed her other arm, taking her time to even get the dirt between her nails before finally turning around to face the man. She folded her arms beneath her and sat her chin on them, watching him curiously. She hadn't expected him to come here. Maybe he hadn't planned to. "Stalking Beast." She said. Making the assumption that he had followed her here. He didn't have that same energy in his voice as he did the day he attacked the players. The same static wasn't in the air. His movements were slow, languid. She was currently in no danger.

He was kneeling forward, beside her. Elbow on knee as he peered into the water. Even now she couldn't see his facial features, but thought she could see wisps of hair protruding, so he wasn't bald at least.

"Not many know of it." Arsine said quietly, watching his movements. "Most use the teleport gates, do not walk the floors. I found it by chance. Is nice, no?" She offered him a smile as he said no one was brave enough to bother her - a slight against her cursor?

"Is not permanent. I shoved fisherman into sea. Slapped Mayor. Was not happy with how the...mimic situation was handled. Will return to green by tomorrow. Of this I am sure."

She shut her eyes, falling quiet for a moment. Enjoying the steam, deep slow breaths. She felt much better now she was clean. "So, why do you approach me Bael?"

WC: 385

[Bael 1]

Bael's head tilted slightly as Arsine spoke, her dry wit filtering through the steam like a breeze through smoke. "If you want peek, will cost you." The words carried no fear, just that teasing cadence of hers, one part mockery, one part warning. He couldn't help the quiet sound that escaped him, a low, rough chuckle that reverberated in his chest. "You overestimate my curiosity," he replied evenly, though the smirk that lingered on his lips said otherwise.

He rose from his crouch and began to circle the perimeter of the spring, boots pressing against the damp ground with deliberate calm. The steam thickened between them, turning his form into a silhouette, broad, steady, little more than a shape moving through the mist. "A modesty filter.." he murmured, voice faintly amused. "How disciplined of you. Most players these days don't think ahead that far."

Arsine's next remark, about his name, made him pause. "Wandering Beast," she called him. Then "Stalking Beast." The latter lingered in the air longer than it should have, and Bael allowed himself a quiet hum in response as he stepped through a denser patch of mist, positioning himself on the far side of the pool. From there, her outline was a blur of movement, graceful, unbothered. "You give too much credit," he said finally. "I don't stalk. I observe. Difference is intent."

He crouched again, lowering his hand toward the edge of the spring. The heat from the water licked his knuckles as he traced a small ripple across its surface. "Besides," he continued, "If I wanted to harm you, I'd have done it already." The words weren't a threat, they were simply fact, delivered in that same even tone he always carried.

Her explanation about the orange cursor drew a faint, almost imperceptible nod. "Shoved a fisherman and slapped a mayor," he repeated, his tone shifting just slightly, something like amusement layered beneath curiosity. "You've been busy."

He leaned back, resting an arm against his raised knee, his dark silhouette barely visible through the haze. "You're not wrong about the others. Most don't walk the floors. They hide behind gates, menus, and false safety." His gaze drifted upward, following the swirl of vapor into the open air. "That's why places like this still exist. Untouched. Unseen. Forgotten."

When she asked why he approached her, his gaze lowered again, meeting where her eyes might be through the veil of mist. "Maybe I was curious," he admitted. "Maybe I wanted to see if you'd still speak to the man everyone else runs from."

A brief pause. The corner of his mouth lifted, faint but visible even in the haze. "Or maybe," he said, voice softer now, "I just wanted to see if you were still alive."

He shifted his stance slightly, letting the mist swallow him further until only his outline remained, half-there, half-gone. "You don't seem the type to stay quiet long. I figured it was only a matter of time before the world found you again."

* * *

WC: 501

Edited yesterday at 01:06 AM by Bael

[Arsine 0]

Arsine found the man odd. He seemed almost insatiable in the way he approached those other players, a small part of her told her to leave. There was something clearly wrong with this man, he was not safe. He killed, she had been witness to several of them. So then, why did she stay? “Why observe me?” Arsine chanced to ask. She opened her eyes and watched him walk the outside of the small spring, she had to turn her body round to keep him in her sights. “It goes off at night.” She said, hints of amusement in her tone as she lifted a hand to brush her hair back.

Her soft green eyes regarded him, she didn’t know what she looked like beneath the cowl, the cape - strong arms with taught muscles, a small smirk as he told her he’d have harmed her if he wanted to. She knew that. Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel like she was in danger right now - because he was fully capable of harming her, and yet at every crossing chose not to. But why? The question lingered in her head.

Then, it gave way to a brief look of annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Fish man deserved it. Mimic had me pinned on the ground, tongue around my legs and the man did nothing. Nohl!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Had audacity to make joke. So I make joke of him. Of Mayor too!” She gestured up toward her crystal.

“Is why it is orange. Harming NPCs. KNow now not to do again. Not much. Might be hard.”

Arsine sighed. “I could not do as you do, Bael. I prefer, as you put it. The false safety. I prefer warm beds. Delicious foods. A body to share bed with. Not…” She gestured around them.

“This.”

"You don't seem the type to stay quiet long. I figured it was only a matter of time before the world found you again."

Her head tilted to the side at his words, she didn’t understand the meaning of them. “Can explain? I do not understand what you mean with those words.”

WC: 362

[Bael 1]

Bael watched her as she spoke, his crimson eyes faintly aglow in the steam curling up from the spring. Her words carried the familiar defiance of someone clinging to normalcy in a place that had none. He found himself studying her gestures, the way her hands cut through the air when she grew frustrated, the flicker of humor and irritation that traded places behind her eyes. Despite everything, she still felt human. That was rare here. Dangerous, too.

He took a slow step closer, boots crunching lightly against the gravel. "You misunderstand," he said, voice low but edged with something like amusement. "It wasn't a warning. It was an observation."

His gaze drifted toward the darkened plains beyond the trees, where the faint glow of cursor lights shimmered in the distance, other players, always watching, always moving. "This world.. it doesn't stay quiet for long. You draw attention, even when you don't mean to. A spark in the dark, someone loud enough to make the silence notice. And when it does, it remembers your face."

He looked back to her then, meeting her green eyes. "That's what I meant. People like you don't stay hidden. You burn too bright."

Bael crouched by the edge of the spring, trailing his fingers along the surface. The ripples distorted his reflection, a dark figure, blurred and faceless. "As for me," he continued, tone quieter now, "I don't live for the false safety you speak of. Comfort dulls the edge. Makes you forget the rules of this place. You let your guard down, and something takes it from you, your health, your pride, or worse."

His hand tightened slightly around the water, droplets slipping through his fingers like blood. "But I do understand wanting warmth. To remember what it felt like to be.. normal.” He glanced back at her. "Maybe that's why you're still here. Even after everything."

He stood, the faint light catching against the metal of his blade as he sheathed it again. "You don't need to understand my words, Arsine. Just.. remember them. Because when the world finds you again, and it will, you'll wish it stayed quiet."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he smirked faintly. "And next time you see a mimic, maybe let the fish man take the hit first."

* * *

WC: 381

[Mari 1]

delete me 

Edited yesterday at 06:10 AM by Mari

[Arsine 0]

"Voyeurism." Came Arsine's amused reply, she slowly cupped her  hands and picked up some water, letting it fall over her head. "Just an observation, Bael." Again with the small shot at the man, an amused tone. Maybe this is why she didn't flee. Even has he moved further away Arsine couldn't help but shift closer. Toes barely touching the bottom of the spring as she closed the gap between them.

She was right in front of him. Perched right in front of his bent knee, she could practically pull him in if she so chose, and the temptation was there. He still smelt like wet grass. He was looking elsewhere, now she was directly beneath him she could see it - the small glint of red in his eyes. "Ah, is red. Like ruby." 

He seemed distracted by something the woman didn't care to see. Still, a glance in the direction he looked - there was movement there, sounds that normally wouldn't be. Were players approaching? That was rare, of all the times the woman had come to this place this was the only time she had company. "You giving me warning?" Arsine asked quietly, trying to think about what his words meant. English. Such a hard language. "Is it not good to be remembered?"

She turned to face him, and found him staring directly down at her, his presence stifling. She swallowed. and re-positioned herself, just to his side. That little bit further away so she could breathe. She watched as he trailed his fingers along the waters surface. "Sounds like none can take from you, you already took so much from yourself." Arsine closed her eyes, resting her chin on folded arms again.

"Next time I see mimic. Will throw it at fish man - or at you."

A silence formed, the woman wasn't sure how much time had passed - enough that she felt like she had been soaking long enough, but not enough to want to move. Her limbs hurt, they felt like jelly. Heavy with exhaustion. She wasn't used to it. Wasn't used to so much questing. "Is hard to forget someone like you, Beast."

WC: 356

[Bael 1]

Bael's head tilted slightly at her words, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. "Throw it at me, will you?" His tone carried a dry humor, quiet but edged with amusement. "Perhaps. But you might find yourself washing off the slime and dirt again."

The steam between them curled lazily, softening the sharpness of his outline. Her composure, her willingness to speak to him so casually, still surprised him. Even now, sitting vulnerable in the spring, she looked back at him without fear.

"Is hard to forget someone like you, Beast."

Although not staring directly at her, Bael gave a short, low chuckle. "You shouldn't call me that," he murmured. "Names tend to stick." A pause followed, then his voice deepened slightly, measured, deliberate. "Still.. I don't think you're someone I would forget. Intriguing."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze drifting toward the water’s surface. "You speak of comfort like it's something to be ashamed of. Warm beds, full plates.. there's no fault in wanting them. But they make you soft. And softness gets people killed here."

A droplet from his hair struck the water, breaking the reflection between them. "You learn that once. You never forget it."

Bael's eyes flicked toward her again, faintly visible through the mist. "Still," he said, voice quieter now, "You've survived this long. That says something."

He fell silent after that, no challenge, no lecture, just the faint hum of thought as the heat from the spring wrapped around them both.

* * *

WC: 254

[Mari 1]

oh ffs my browswer keeps resetting this; delete me too

Edited yesterday at 09:16 AM by Mari

[Arsine 0]

Arsine couldn't help but laugh softly at his response. "Maybe. But I would not be the only one needing to wash myself. That alone would be a victory to me." 

She was beginning to feel a little light headed so lifted herself up and out of the hot springs, immediately donning a towel to wrap around her torso. Arsine allowed her legs to stay in the water, kicking them back and forth slowly. She enjoyed the contrast, the cool wind against damp skin, the heated water below. "If not Beast. If not Bael. Then what would I call you?" Arsine asked. She shifted her gaze back to him - he was close. Very close. And still she could barely glance at what he looked like. Ruby red eyes, hair. gruff voice. Not much to go off of. A man who seemed to enjoy solitude. Felt the life she wanted made others soft. Maybe it did make her soft, but Arsine didn't care.

softness gets people killed here

"I do not believe death here is permanent." Came her quiet reply. "Is strange. No? We are all trapped here, and we must believe the words of a mad man in the sky? Who is to say he is telling truth?" She shrugged. "If is truth, I prefer to indulge than live in fear. Why fight for frontlining, when those outside the game have more of chance to release us?" A reason she didn't fear him, was simply because she didn't believe in the death game. If it were true - then so be it. But Arsine refused to let fear dictate how she chose to live.

There was something else about his words though... it sounded like he had lost someone.

"I am sure. Whomever you looking for. Is out there waiting." 

An attempt to console the man.

"I..." ARsine lifted her eyes to gaze at the glade that surrounded them, the way fireflies danced between trees closely woven together. "Am not sure what secret is to surviving. I do what I wish. When I wish. Nothing more. Nothing less."

wc; 346

[Bael 1]

Bael exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible beneath the hiss of steam. His eyes followed the movement of the towel as she rose, though not with the curiosity of a man watching a woman, but with the faint wariness of someone who had spent too long expecting every shift in his surroundings to mean danger. When she spoke again, her tone soft, almost teasing, it drew a faint sound from him, something between a snort and a laugh.

"A victory, huh?" His head tilted slightly. "You think I'd step into that water willingly?" There was the smallest glint of humor in his voice. "You'd have to drag me in."

He leaned back, palms pressing into the damp stone behind him, the mist curling up to half-hide his face. "If not Bael, then what," he repeated quietly, his voice roughened by thought. "Does it matter what you call me? Beast fits well enough. Everyone needs their monster."

Her talk of death and disbelief drew his eyes back to her. There was something almost foreign in the way she said it, like she had stepped outside the fear that ruled so many. It made him still, for a moment, before a faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You don't think it's real." It wasn't a question. "You think this whole world's just.. another trick. That when people fall, they'll just wake up somewhere else."

He turned his gaze toward the water's reflection, watching how the ripples distorted the faint glimmer of her face. "Maybe you're right," he said after a long pause. "Maybe it's all a lie. Maybe none of this matters. But until someone wakes up, all we've got is this," he motioned vaguely toward the empty air, "and the things we choose to do with it."

Her next words, soft, meant to comfort, hit him in a way he didn't quite expect. The silence that followed stretched long enough that only the sound of shifting water and the occasional night insect filled the gap.

"Maybe," he said finally, though his tone held no conviction. "Or maybe they're gone. Maybe that's why I keep walking. Hard to tell the difference anymore."

He straightened, the faint metallic sound of his weapon settling at his side. "You live by indulgence," he said. "And yet, you're still standing. Guess that means it's working for you."

Bael's gaze lingered on her one last time before drifting toward the treeline, where shadows swallowed everything past the glow of the spring. "Maybe you've got it right, Arsine. Do what you wish. When you wish." He smirked faintly. "Just make sure you can live with it when the world bites back."

* * *

WC: 447

[Arsine 0]

"Does it matter?" Arsine shook her head. "Of course it matters." She waved her hand dismissing the words. "Name is important. All jokes aside - is important you be called what you want to be called. Be it Bael. Beast. Lisichka. Is your choice." Arsine leaned into him, enough to nudge his shoulder. "Would think you a man who dictates what that want is. No?"

The man grew quiet when she admitted how she felt about the world. It made Arsine assume he had lost something, or someone close to him. That he didn't believe people woke up on the other side. Meaning... He really put all those names on the monument, assuming they really were dead. Arsine took a deep breath. That, was a little alarming. The first time the woman felt a flicker of fear for the man. If he was capable of that? What else would he be capable of? But... the way he moved, methodical, cautious... it was hard. She hadn't experienced his anger, only his curiosity.

"and the things we choose to do with it."

"And you choose to take lives, assuming they can't come back?" She asked, caution in her tone. "I cannot decide if pathetic, or lonely."

Bael straightened, making a remark that indulgence was working for her. Said she was still alive. Then, made comments about joining her, be it in the hot springs, or other - Arsine wasn't sure. Call it a language barrier, at least hat is the excuse she'd use. 

"Drag in?" Arsine asked. her eyes lighting up at the challenge the temptation to kick him into the hot springs growing. "Do not tempt me, Bael." Arsine said as she pushed herself up to a standing position. "For I am one to give into the temptation. Each...and every...." She shifted behind him, waited for his gaze to shift away from her - then she pressed two hands against his back - doing just as he said, in a matter of words. Instead of dragging, she attempted to push him into the hot springs. "..Time."

 

 

[Bael 1]

Bael's head tilted at her earlier words, that half-smirk of his forming slow and deliberate. "I know what I want," he said, tone low and steady, "but this.. Lissy? Lesty-Chick? What does that even mean?" The faint curl of amusement touched his voice, as if he was turning the word over in his mind like an odd stone he couldn’t quite identify. "Sounds like something you’d call a pet. Or a very confused fox."

Her answer, or rather, her steady gaze, told him enough. She liked to provoke, to test boundaries. It reminded him of the flicker of danger that lingered between them; not the kind born of weapons, but of words and wit.

Then came her accusation. "Pathetic, or lonely," she'd said. The faint ripple of tension that crossed his face wasn’t anger, but something heavier, quiet recognition. His eyes dropped to the surface of the spring. The light from the moon fractured over it, breaking his reflection into a hundred fragments. "Call it what you like," he murmured. "I care about none of these people."

He extended a hand, dipping one gloved finger into the water. The surface trembled outward, the ring expanding and fading. "They play at life here," he continued softly, "pretend at purpose. But this world's just a waiting room, and they're too afraid to admit it." His hand closed into a fist above the water. "I don't kill for sport. I just stop pretending."

When he looked back at her, there was something sharp behind the calm, an edge that hadn't dulled with time, only buried itself deeper.

And then, her grin. The shift of her stance. The faint sound of her stepping closer through the mist. He caught the movement just a moment too late.

A hard shove landed square between his shoulder blades. Bael's balance faltered, his boots scraped wet stone, and for a brief heartbeat, he felt the weight of inevitability. Water exploded upward as he plunged in with a low, guttural curse muffled by the splash.

When he surfaced, hair slicked back and face dripping, his black eyes were wide, then narrowed in equal parts disbelief and grim amusement. A slow grin broke through the dripping strands of hair clinging to his jaw.

"..You didn't." His voice was gravel and steam.

And before she could take a single step back, his hand shot out. Strong fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her down toward him in one swift motion. The water churned again, laughter and splashes echoing through the mist.

The ripples spread outward, chasing the fireflies into the night air. For a rare moment, the Beast didn't look like the shadow the plains whispered about, he looked alive.

* * *

WC: 449

[Arsine 0]

Arsine covered her mouth, hiding a smirk as he asked what the little name she had given him meant. “Lisichka… meaning little fox. Cannot call you Bael, Nor sleeping beast, you are cautious. Like a fox.” He had practically hit the nail on the head, Arsine couldn’t help but be a little bit impressed by it. “Usually yes. Is used as a what you could call a pet name.” 

It was all she was able to say before he was thrown off balance, falling into the hot springs with a heavy splash. Arsine stared in genuine shock - mouth slightly agape. She truly hadn’t expected to catch him off guard like that. “Uhm….” It took her a moment to regain her composure, standing tall - shoulders back. “Should pay more attention to your-”

And before Arsine could utter another word, or take a single step back his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, jerking her forward and pulling her on top of him. Arsine cackled, a loud and rambunctious laughter that was rare for the normally dignified woman.

“Ah! Is true! You do have beard. Little bit.” She said in an amused tone, hands clutching tight to his shoulders, his cloak had fallen off - and he was bare - for all to see. Well, ‘bare’ by his standards. His upper half was exposed - and he wore naught but a single black tank top. Tattoos covered both his arms - and it was clear the man worked out, more muscles than most had in Aincrad. “Not the usual skinny gamer, are you?” She quipped, hands running down his arms before giving him the space and stepping away. He had a single necklace - that looked like it was naught but a leather cord, what was attached to it, beneath the steamy waters - she did not know.  He had strong facial features adorned with a close shaven beard - red eyes stared down at her, one side of his face scarred. Black hair cropped short on the top, but long at the back. Arsine knew the hairstyle had a name, but could not think of it.

“Why do you hide?” She asked. “I assume you were ugly. But you are not.”

A step closer again, clearly not afraid of a man she knew she very well should be afraid of.

I care about none of these people

Arsine hummed in thought as she reached out, a hand over his shoulder, the other tracing his jawline. “I do not care about these people either. Nor you. Is best not to be attached, no? One man in my bed one night, and a new the next - is no matter to me. What matters, is I live how I want. Much like you, Bael.”

A small smile.

“Is this not feeling like alive?”

WC: 462

[Bael 1]

Bael blinked as the word left her lips, Lisichka. The way she said it carried a strange warmth, a teasing edge, and something else he couldn't quite place. "Little fox, huh.." he repeated, testing the sound of it as though tasting a foreign spice. His brow lifted slightly when she called it a pet name, but before he could speak, the world shifted beneath him, and with a splash, the water rose up to meet him.

The shock of the heat hit his skin, his cloak floating up around him like a ghost of his usual stoic composure. He surfaced with a low growl, shaking water from his hair. He didn't even have time to scowl before he caught her wrist and pulled her forward, a grin cutting through his expression as Arsine's laughter rang through the glade. It wasn't mocking, it was real. Unrestrained. The kind of laugh you didn't hear much in Aincrad anymore.

"Not the usual skinny gamer, are you?" she teased, eyes darting over the tattoos that traced his arms like coiled flame.

He looked down at himself, watching the soaked fabric cling to his torso, the hooded poncho drifting lazily in the steaming water. "Not really a typical gamer at all," he said, voice low but amused. "I joined the game out of a whim."

Her comment about his beard made him chuckle, a quiet, honest sound that surprised even him. He reached up, slicking his wet hair back as droplets rolled down his scarred cheek.

"I assume you were ugly. But you are not."

That drew another quiet laugh. "I don't really see myself as handsome," he replied. "And I don't want others to really see my face." When she stepped closer, closing the space between them with deliberate calm, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "You don't look too bad yourself," he added, tone steady, not flirtatious, just.. sincere.

He caught the faint shimmer of light from the fireflies reflecting in her gaze. The glade was quiet again, save for the gentle lapping of water and the wind whispering through the trees. For a moment, it felt detached from the rest of Aincrad, a pause in a world that never truly stopped.

Her next words lingered in the air. What matters, is I live how I want.

He nodded slowly, gaze drifting upward to the night sky that shimmered through the canopy. "That is the best way to live," he murmured. "Wanting to feel alive in a game where there is a lot of death."

He leaned back slightly, resting his arms on the edge of the spring, eyes still fixed on the stars. "People think fighting the frontlines makes them alive, but all I see are players chasing a death they don’t understand. You're different, Arsine. You don't run from it, you just.. exist with it."

He looked back at her, crimson eyes glinting in the soft light. "Maybe that's why you’re still here. Maybe that's what survival really is, not fear, not control, but acceptance."

He smirked faintly, a rare expression for him. "Besides, if death isn't real, then we've got all the time in the world to test that theory, don't we?"

* * *

WC: 533

[Arsine 0]

“It seems both our whims have trapped us here then, no?” Arsine asked softly, he was closer now, her vision blurred from the steam permeating from the water, coiling around the two of them -as if the very hot springs themselves were egging the two on. Arsine had no qualms with this. This was her forte.

"And I don't want others to really see my face."

"Then what of I? Who have seen your face, Bael?” Arsine aske with a teasing grin, dipping her head to the side, lips almost touching his skin, not quite, but she could note the slight twitch. Fear? Anticipation? It was exciting to her, to find out exactly what it was that made the man tick. Just for the evening. Her breath exhaled, warm - but almost unnoticeable amidst the steam that wafted up between the two. “What would one do to me?” She asked again, tone lowering along with her hand till it found the mid of his back. He had complimented her in return, his tone lacked the zeal, the same flirtatious undertones that she had used. Arsine would push a little further, and if Bael did not take the bait, it was of no loss to her. Arsine had no attachment to the man.

Bael leaned back to rest against the rocks surrounding the hot springs, and Arsine used this chance to lean against him - palm flat on his chest, tracing the outlines of the tattoos that coiled around him. “I do not run. You saw how I fight, is not good. But…” She’d lean in closer, pressing wet skin against his. “I am good at other things. All the time in the world, no? Want to test theory with me?”

wc: 288

[Bael 1]

Bael's gaze stayed fixed on her, unflinching. The steam blurred her edges, turning her into something dreamlike, real, but distant, as if the world itself wanted to swallow her form and keep her there. Her hand against his chest, her voice low and teasing, the faint smirk playing on her lips, she knew what she was doing. And he wasn't immune to it.

When she leaned in, he met her halfway. Close enough for her breath to brush against his jaw, close enough for his own to stir strands of her damp hair. "Let's test this theory of yours," he murmured, his tone a quiet growl, not loud, not eager, but deliberate.

He didn't kiss her. Not yet. Instead, he let his fingers trace the curve of her wrist, then her forearm, water sliding between their skin. "You talk like someone who knows the world can't touch her," he said, his voice low. "But you're wrong, Arsine. This place gets to everyone, eventually."

Her pulse fluttered beneath his touch, and Bael's eyes flicked to hers, green meeting red through the shifting mist. "You're dangerous," he said softly, almost amused. "You make people forget where the lines are."

The hand on her arm slid up until it rested at the back of her neck, fingers brushing against strands of wet hair. He tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping further. "And you think you can handle that?"

He waited, just long enough for her to see that he wasn't backing down, that he was meeting her in that space she had invited him into. Then, slowly, his grip softened. "You said you live how you want," Bael added. "Maybe I'll do the same.. for tonight."

He leaned closer, close enough that his lips hovered by her ear, his words more breath than sound. "Careful what you wish to test, little fox."

* * *

WC: 310

[Arsine 0]

He played coy, with his words, his actions - Arsine lowered her hand, sneaking it under the fabric of his shirt, fingers splayed and exploring the heat of his skin - admiring how it seemed to twitch at the slightest touch she gave him. His fingers danced upon her other wrist, toying with her, tracing it down her forearm, slow, deliberate. For a man who claimed he did not indulge, he clearly seemed to know what he was doing. 

"But you're wrong, Arsine. This place gets to everyone, eventually."

 

“Not Me. Not yet.” She quipped back, he was inviting her, so Arsine was all too willing to slide herself onto his lap. Skin met skin in a burning friction that the woman adored to get lost in. “Am not as dangerous as you, though.” Her eyes danced up to his orange cursor. Permanence through death. She should run. She should leave him to his devices, and find a cave to sleep off the night - and yet… her heart beat heavy and hard in her chest. A swallow, as she obliged with his gentle yet forceful grip. Body melting over his. Arching into the grip he held on her neck, fingers pressing just so - to test her. Arsine did not flinch. She welcomed it.

. "And you think you can handle that?"

A faint laugh as she leaned forward, no more games - her lips found their way to the nape of his neck, there was no gentle kiss - no fluttering lips. No, a man like him demanded more. Arsine bit down hard, making her claim in a ringed mark of teeth, she shifted, lips dancing against his ears.

“Can handle? Do not know. Lets test. Tomorrow - will be like I was never here. You can go back to your fields, Lisichka.”

WC: 297