Powder, Meet Fuse (Closed)

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[attr="class","vgroup"] [attr="class","vogue"] [attr="class","mainv"]WARLOCK [attr="class","vlyrics"] Bad, bad news One of us is gonna lose I'm the powder, you're the fuse Just add some friction [attr="class","vcred"]Joan Amador

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]The brandy swirled in its glass with an artful, lazy twist of his wrist. He sat in the shaded corners of one of the Cabal's most remote and disused recreational rooms - is that what they called them? Dorian hadn't the faintest idea. It certainly fit the description, but calling a chamber where individuals such as they could be at leisure a "rec room" sounded wrong. But, then, this particular haunt was rarely in service. It may have been totally useless, if not for its single, solitary and frequent patron.

Dorian chewed the inside of his lip in thought, black eyes boring into the closed door, as if demanding that it open. His presence had a purpose, as everything that the Warlock did must. The strange part was that the purpose wasn't his. Dorian never worked with others, because he didn't see the need. Well, until now. Until his new benefactor, who'd used logic and verbal barbs cloaked in sweet promises to break the deceiver's solo streak.

His pride chafed against the bounds now uncharacteristically bordering it. But that was in the background - the Warlock had accepted his current arrangement, even if he still wrestled to get used to it. In the fore? His responsibility. The young individual that Dorian was, according to his new contractor, so perfectly suited to manage. Oh, he'd been given details about the one called "Fallout," knowledge to arm him for this very moment but they were stale and dry.

Something in Dorian ached to finally see the object of his duties, because Fallout had done something that very, very few people could ever claim: he had intrigued the Warlock. Possibly even presented a challenge. Dorian practically purred at the thought. Then his shoulders tensed faintly before relaxing. The air had changed in a way it only did when the Warlock was nearing a tangible source of power or energy. This was it.

The door to the room opened, and in walked a young and brooding man. The Warlock watched like a wolf stalking a rabbit as he moved into the room, not noticing Dorian's covert presence; not expecting anyone to be there. Then, he tipped his head and threw the last bit of brandy back in one mouthful. Dorian wasn't disappointed - that barest movement triggered acknowledgement on Fallout's end.

The glass still against his lips veiled his smile. Dorian lowered his chin and glanced, bemused over the vessel's rim at his charge. "Well, at last," he said, Romanian accent furrowing his words, "I was beginning to tire of my own company." The Warlock hefted a lazy, vague half-smirk at the other man.

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT

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[Joan Amador]

it comes in waves

i close my eyes

hold my breath & let it bury me

❧

He was nervous but then again when wasn't he nervous? He just needed to control his nerves, his everlasting anxiety, enough to not turn the whole city into a nuclear wasteland.

He wasn't used to having to socialize with anyone outside of his family or at least not without one of his siblings, typically Ryan, by his side. But Ryan was busy helping plan some rescue that Joan didn't even know if he'd be a part of it. And it wasn't just socializing with someone he already knew - such as Amrit - but Perses had asked him to meet someone entirely new.

Someone who could apparently help with his own abilities but he wasn't entirely sure how. He'd been told multiple times that the Cabal was working on not only a way to nullify abilities without Ryan always needing to physically be there but also a way to remove abilities completely. And Joan had no reason to doubt these claims because Perses had been the one to tell him them.

Which was also why he hadn't said no to meeting this man - because Perses had asked him to. But that also didn't mean he had to go out of his way to get that meeting over with. He didn't think it counted as avoiding or even going out of his way to do so if he just continued with his usual routine and just didn't seek the man out.

In his defense: Meeting new people was hard and nerve wracking and he didn't need anymore anxiety in his life.

So his plan was to hang out in his usual room - no one used it and they'd even installed a radiation detector somewhere in the room though he'd never been able to find it. He had a book in one hand - a nonfiction one that was absolutely boring but he'd long since discovered there was a calming sense to being bored. His abilities didn't seem to react to boredom. Boredom was thus deemed safe by him.

He walked into the room, not really expecting anyone to be there but his eyes also glanced around - a habit he'd gained in an attempt to never be surprised - when a small movement caught his attention and he swiveled to look at its owner.

He recognized the man not because they had met before - obviously they had not - but because he'd been given a detailed description of him and had tried his hardest to remember as many of those details as he could. He hadn't been given a name, though, but rather just a codename.

Warlock.

Joan fidgeted awkwardly with his fingers while still managing to keep one hand on his book. He glanced behind him briefly to make sure there were indeed seats behind him before moving backwards into a seat, setting the book down at his feet. Even though he'd been assured this Warlock could help him with his abilities, he'd still chosen a seat with a good amount of distance - as much as the room permitted - between them out of instinct.

He still felt that the farther this man was from him, the safe Warlock would be.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, shyly dipping his head, his hands now on his lap but still fidgeting with his fingers. "You're Warlock right? You uh - You can call me Joan."

566 ● @dorian ● Sorry about the wait! Hope this works. <3

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[attr="class","vgroup"] [attr="class","vogue"] [attr="class","mainv"]WARLOCK [attr="class","vlyrics"] Bad, bad news One of us is gonna lose I'm the powder, you're the fuse Just add some friction [attr="class","vcred"]Joan Amador

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]This - this meeting, this first impression - was pivotal. So much hung on it, and so much was at stake. Dorian knew this, and so his mind, exceedingly careful at the worst of times, was quadruply so. Senses honed, reaching out and straining, Dorian got his first genuine taste of his charge. Energies and emotions spiked when Fallout noticed he wasn't alone, responses to his controlled surprise. Dorian's powers lapped them up, and a sensation like, and yet infinitely more predatory than hunger flexed within him.

This boy was delicious.

Fallout was instantly uncomfortable, and it didn't take Dorian's supernatural senses to make that clear. He twitched and fidgeted lovelily before backpedaling and seeking refuge on an armchair as far from the Warlock as possible without bolting from the room. Dorian's smile grew. He lofted both finely shaped brows at Fallout's words. "My reputation precedes me," he observed, flashing his teeth in a wider grin. The Warlock hadn't known how much his benefactor would have informed Fallout beforehand.

"As does yours, Joan," Dorian draped the name in smoldering promise. As though he were testing it, and found it deeply, obscenely satisfying. The Warlock wasn't about to let Joan get too comfortable - or as comfortable as the nervous boy could get. He wanted to push boundaries, get a better read on Joan's emotions, thoughts, and how they correlated to his powers. Knowledge would make Dorian's job easier in more ways than one.

So, he uncoiled from his perch, dropping his leg from where it'd been crossed and standing languidly. The Warlock prowled forward, and as he did, he spoke. "And you may call me Dorian." By the time he'd finished, he stood directly before Joan. Reaching out with effortless confidence, he snatched one of Joan's hands and drew it up, pressing his lips to the back of his knuckles in a gentle kiss. Then, before relinquishing it or moving his mouth away, ensuring his breath heated Joan's hand, he added, "It's a pleasure meeting you." 

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT

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[Joan Amador]

it comes in waves

i close my eyes

hold my breath & let it bury me

❧

Joan wasn't sure what type of reputation he had, though he had a feeling it wasn't the best. He was certain people whispered behind his back about how he was a bomb just waiting to go off. His face became flushed at the way Warlock said his name.

He'd never received much attention from anyone outside of his family or some scientists that wanted to try to help him with his powers. He isolated himself so he wasn't used to having someone he apparently didn't have to isolate himself from. Even with Ryan, there was only so long his brother could keep a nullification field up for.

His thoughts came to a halt when he noticed Warlock stand up. His mind started going over everything he could use as a weapon that wasn't his powers, as he was trained to do. He didn't have any of his usual weapons on him but he had the two shields - one on each wrist, that appeared to be high-tech watches at first glance.

At the very least, he could defend himself.

But Warlock - Dorian - didn't make any attacks. Still Joan grew nervous, radiation seeping off of him, reacting to his nerves. He flinched faintly when Dorian snatched his hand, his face scrunching with confusion.

His face heated up with a blush the instant Dorian's lips touched his knuckles. The radiation in the room, spilling off of him, spiked, though not enough to cause any glow.

"I uh... S-Same to you," he stammered, eyes wide and staring right at Dorian, his mind having forgotten about the radiation, unable to focus on anything except the feeling of Dorian's breath against his hand. He held his hand against his chest, finding he missed the feeling of it resting in someone else's hand. How long had it been that he'd had contact with someone without worrying--

Oh crap.

His eyebrows shot up as he remembered his own abilities and sensed the radiation in the room. "Oh God - I'm sorry!"

336 ● @dorian ● n/a

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[attr="class","vgroup"] [attr="class","vogue"] [attr="class","mainv"]WARLOCK [attr="class","vlyrics"] Bad, bad news One of us is gonna lose I'm the powder, you're the fuse Just add some friction [attr="class","vcred"]Joan Amador

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]Dorian decided that, quite frankly, it wasn't fair. That the energy Joan produced was so satisfying was one thing; but his emotions and reactions were just as pleasing. Nervousness and radiation spiked at the physical contact, and the bloom of a more tender, warmer feeling made itself known at Dorian's breath on his fingers nearly made the Warlock purr.

With resigned reluctance, Dorian released the younger man's hand, and could have swore he sensed a tang of regret and longing when their contact stopped. This wasn't fair. Dorian's charming grin remained plastered in place without any effort on his part. And, when Joan seemed to realize the haze of radiation saturating the air around them, Dorian's velvety contentment plunged deeper still.

Joan's eyes widened, his lips parted in fear and an apology leaped out of his mouth. Dorian chuckled, shaking his head, then slowly crouched down in front of him. Dorian's hands reached out, grasping each of Joan's legs right above the knee firmly, and an unnerving, primal sort of dangerousness flickered in his gaze. "Never apologize to me," he said, soft, but threatening.

His fingers dug into Joan's thighs, he took a deep, shuddering breath without breaking eye contact, and the radiation thudding through the air rushed into his cells, flooding them with vitality, strength and power. When he finished, Dorian's chest rose and fell unevenly. "I think we know each other better already," he snarked, and allowed his grip to linger before he finally retrieved his long fingers and moved lazily onto the cushion next to Joan. He reclined his head on the back of the seat and let out an ecstatic sigh.

One arm he tossed nonchalantly onto the back of the piece of furniture behind Joan.

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT

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[Joan Amador]

it comes in waves

i close my eyes

hold my breath & let it bury me

❧

A part of him expected Dorian to to upset - angry or disappointed - at his lack of control. Even if Dorian was supposed to help him with his powers, he was twenty-one years old so surely Dorian expected him to have better control.

But then Dorian crouched down and grabbed his legs. Joan noticed the danger, heard the threat in his voice. The radiation in the room grew. Part of him was tempted to shove Dorian away, the other part wanted to threaten him right back. But he was also used to be scolded - it was the clear yet unspoken threat that was new.

"Sorry," he said, effectively apologizing for apologizing, and grimaced when he realized he'd just done what Dorian had asked - demanded? - he not do. "Sorr-- mm." He bit his bottom lip, suddenly aware of how much of a habit he had apparently made out of apologizing. And more times than not, he was apologizing for things he had no control over, such as his own existence.

His gaze snapped back to Dorian when he felt the radiation being drained. He knew he wasn't doing it himself and thus the only one who could be doing it was Dorian. It distracted him from the fact that Dorian's fingers were digging in. He watched in awe, having not been given the specific details on how Dorian could help with his powers.

His book was entirely forgotten, as boring as it was. His focus was entirely on Dorian now, watching him sit down and very much noting where he placed his arm.

"I think a round of twenty questions could've helped us achieve that," he joked, though his attention quickly shifted. "...Are you okay?" He turned in his seat so he was partially facing Dorian. "Does it - Does it hurt? Is there a limit?" He was not only fascinated by Dorian's ability but he also knew it would be wise for him to get as much information on it as possible.

336 ● @dorian ● n/a

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[attr="class","vgroup"] [attr="class","vogue"] [attr="class","mainv"]WARLOCK [attr="class","vlyrics"] Bad, bad news One of us is gonna lose I'm the powder, you're the fuse Just add some friction [attr="class","vcred"]Joan Amador

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]The Warlock's lazy grin became a tick more amused, rather than relaxed. Good. Joan had some sense of humor - some emotion other than anxiousness and timidity. And, Dorian noted as those emotions shifted the landscape of his flavor, each layer of Joan was as euphoric as the last to taste. "Aah," he answered, not opening his eyes, "but this was so much more fun."

The cushion beneath them groaned softly when Joan readjusted. Dorian could feel him twist, facing him partially, as much as their closeness could warrant. Still, the Warlock kept his eyes closed and his lips in an easy, contented grin. Curiosity warred with the more prominent, hesitant feelings in Joan and Dorian savored it.

The boy's line of questions finally fluttered Dorian's eyes open, and he looked at him quizzically with one eye. "Worried about me, are you?" he asked, rhetorically. Dorian paused to consider, because no one had really asked him those questions before. Not through their fault, though. The Warlock could count on one hand the people in this world who knew he had powers.

"It hurts... so good," Dorian said, after considering. He weighed the words and decided they worked. "Normally it doesn't. Hurt, that is. But the energy you put off is like nothing I've ever encountered. It hurts so good." He shifted, too, and in so doing his arm scuttled down the back of the seat, totally naturally, and rested along Joan's shoulders. "As for a limit? Not that I know of. So... Any more of your 'twenty questions?'"

[attr="class","cred"]VEL OF PIXEL PERFECT

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[Joan Amador]

it comes in waves

i close my eyes

hold my breath & let it bury me

❧

Joan pouted faintly. He hadn't exactly found that fun but he made sure to note that Dorian apparently had. If he was going to be spending so much time with Dorian, working closely with him, then he wanted to know what kind of man he was. He wanted to know how guarded he needed to be - both physically and mentally.

He flushed at Dorian's clearly rhetorical question. His heart fluttered and he glanced away for a moment until he heard Dorian speak again. He cocked his head to the side, brows knitting with confusion.

It took him a moment longer than he ever planned to admit to remember that some people enjoyed pain - He didn't know if he enjoyed that and he didn't want to think about that possibility because it just furthered his embarrassment.

Thankfully, for his sake, Dorian continued and unknowingly gave him a distraction from his embarrassment - the radiation in the room dipping slightly as he got distracted by the other man's explanation.

Joan admittedly found it fascinating that his energy, his radiation, felt different than others. It made him feel... Special. It made him feel special. He'd only ever felt like a ticking time bomb, a danger, a threat. He hadn't felt special since before he'd gotten his powers, before his mother had passed.

He wasn't sure if it was possible to blush as much as he felt like he was blushing. The radiation rose steadily, warmly to match the warmth he felt creep into his chest. How long had it been since his self-esteem had done anything but drop?

He noted that Dorian's power so far didn't seem to have a limitation, which to him meant there was a possibly that it did but Dorian hadn't found it yet.

And then he laughed - a light, small chuckle; a gentle sound that for a second took some weight off his shoulders. The radiation reacted to it as well, feeling less heavy. Though it increased, it seemed to float in the air lighter, almost like clouds though clearly not visible.

"That's not how you play," he said, the laughter still in his tone. "You're supposed to ask me a question now. It goes: I ask you one, you ask me one-- Oh." He paused, tilting his head to his side. "I asked you--" He brought his fingers up to count despite not needing to. "I asked you three. My bad."

408 ● @dorian ● Bby laughed. ;-;

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[attr="class","vgroup"] [attr="class","vogue"] [attr="class","mainv"]WARLOCK [attr="class","vlyrics"] Bad, bad news One of us is gonna lose I'm the powder, you're the fuse Just add some friction [attr="class","vcred"]Joan Amador

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]Joan's laugh was beautiful and adorable in equal measure. Dorian counted the sound as an instant accomplishment and success on his part. He didn't know how rarely or frequently Joan laughed, but already given his knowledge and handful of minutes' experience with the boy, Dorian doubted it happened frequently. There was a uniquely pleasing quality to its sound, too, that Dorian admired objectively.

The younger man began explaining the parameters of his game of questions and was brought up short, coiling inward, embarrassed that he'd not played by the rules. Now it was Dorian's turn to chuckle. "Allow me to even the scales then," he said. The Warlock took a moment, looking toward the ceiling, pursing his lips in thought, the foot of the leg he had crossed over the other bouncing idly.

"All right," he said, settling on three that he was satisfied with. Dorian shifted slightly in his seat, for all appearances to become more comfortable. BY so doing, his thigh butted up against Joan's, their knees brushing, and Dorian settled more firmly against him. "What is your middle name? Who is your favorite author?" He looked down at Joan and smiled slyly. "What do you think of me, so far?"

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[Joan Amador]

Joan cocked his head to the side, wondering what Dorian meant. But as the older man thought, eyes on the ceiling, he realized he meant he was going to ask him three questions now. He was expecting questions about his powers, his role in the Cabal, perhaps even his relationship with Perses. He knew there were people who wondered why he and his siblings were so loyal to him, why they had been brought into the Cabal at such young ages. He didn't think many people, in general and also specifically within the Cabal, were interested in getting to know him. Of course that was merely a guess. He hadn't interacted with many to know for sure and those that he did, outside of his family, he tried to limit the interactions they had. It was better for them, he told himself. But then Dorian asked about him and not in regards to his power or job at the Cabal. He blinked, clearly surprised and taken aback by the questions. He'd even been asked his opinion on Dorian. He didn't think many people cared what he thought. He noticed the way their knees brushed and hesitated. It was a brief hesitation but it was there. He couldn't help wondering if Perses had asked Dorian to get to know him, to get close to him, maybe even become friends. But he quickly pushed the thought back. While Perses cared about him, he knew he wouldn't go so far as to pay someone to be his friend. Perses respected him too much to that, he was sure of it. "Hector," he answered the first question, "Joan Hector Amador." He said his name with a sort of pride. While he was ashamed and scared of his powers, he'd never been ashamed to be part of his family. He was proud to be an Amador. "My mum said I was named after my grandpa - Well with my middle name. I never met him but--" He shrugged. "--I assume he was a good man. Mum wouldn't have used his name otherwise." He frowned faintly at the question about his favorite author. When was the last time he'd read a book he actually enjoyed? A book that didn't bore him to death? He couldn't remember. "I... I don't have a favorite author," he replied, eyes falling on the book he'd brought with it. It was a non-fiction book on some point in history - he hadn't started it yet. "I don't read books I like." His shoulders slumped a little and he pulled his gaze away, eyes resting on Dorian once again. "Boring books help me feel, uh, less feelings. The less feelings, the easier to control I am-- I mean my powers are." Joan pursed his lips. What did he think of Dorian so far? He inched closer to Dorian, curiously looking at him. "I think... I think you're dangerous," he said. He reached forward, tapping a finger against Dorian's arm - noting the muscles there - and letting some radiation seep from his finger to Dorian. He couldn't help grinning a little, only a small hint of shyness there. "But so am I."

... It comes in waves, i close my eyes, hold my breath, and let it bury me. i'm not okay and it's not alright. won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?... fallout @dorian outfit 532 words n/a

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