starlogs | ( OPEN ) hold me closer, tiny dancer

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( OPEN ) hold me closer, tiny dancer

WHO: dorothy gale + various
WHERE: various places on bajikan
WHEN: the fleet's stay in orbit
WHAT: dorothy explores the planet and gets thoroughly sidetracked.
WARNINGS: alcohol, (descriptions of) violence, possibly sex

[ dorothy has been to another world or another universe, so maybe that counts as visiting another planet, but she's never been on another planet like this: going from a spaceship orbiting the planet (if involuntarily, from what dorothy understands) to the planet's surface, being welcomed by the locals. dorothy still wishes she could figure out a way home; she wishes no one was dying aboard the eluvio; she wishes some other things she's not quite willing to admit, but all things considered?

this is kind of cool.

dorothy visits every district; some she leaves sooner than others. in gula, she finds a bar that garnishes every drink with a little umbrella and after taking a picture on her comms device for spacestagram and emptying that drink, dorothy orders another one. and then another, and another after that. they all come with little umbrellas, and she's already wearing two of them behind her left ear. ] Can you help me? [ she asks, tone a little slurred already, waving a hand between the third umbrella and her left ear. she could just put it behind the right, but that thought doesn't cross her mind. ]

( ooc | if you'd like a specific starter, something in another district, or if you'd like to hash out the details of something, hit me up via pm or at

abiosis )

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[Ichimatsu isn't really one for drinking, because he's a damn lightweight, but there was certainly no harm in taking a look, right? More for fear of something happening to him than any other reasons (also read as: he didn't need him correcting his half-truths) he'd left Nyanko in their quarters and wandered out to Bajikan, bored of being left alone. He'd meandered for a while before he wound up in Gula, and he doesn't get far before he finds the Umbrella Bar and unintentionally zeroes in on Dorothy struggling with her third umbrella.]

[He's startled when she asks for his help, but chuffs a short laugh when she asks.]

You've got two ears, you know.

[ Exhausted, in pain, and with one side of his face swelling up so much that it's getting hard to see out of his eye, Wash has no idea which district he's in and the truth is, he doesn't care. He's running on pure stubbornness now, refusing to stop because doing that seems akin to giving up and admitting defeat. His destination is hazy; some part of him vaguely wants to get back to the ship where at least the surroundings are familiar and the rest wants to just find somewhere here on the planet out of the way and secluded, to take a nap for a few hours.

It's been a few years since he's gone so many rounds against an opponent that's bigger and stronger than him and it shows in the bruises and cuts marring his skin. Probably dealing with years of buried discontent and anger in a place that magnified anger and aggression hadn't been the best decision he could have made, but he's got a lifetime of questionable choices behind him. One more isn't going to hurt anything, figuratively speaking anyway.

Wash isn't paying attention as he makes his way through the crowd on the street. Occasionally he mutters an apology when he knocks into someone but most of the time he doesn't. At least, he doesn't until he collides more directly with someone. ]

Sorry. [ It's more grunt than anything else, but it's sincere nonetheless. Wash focuses on the woman—human looking, possibly from the ship—he's just run into and pulls himself together enough to ask; ] You all right?

[ the first time dorothy had gone to luxurua, she'd meant to collect some of the plants, to at least collect some fairymoss because it's supposed to help people relax and that can only be a good thing if someone's suffering from anxiety or even hurt. she'll never be a doctor, but after having to figure out a way to save lucas in oz, dorothy would rather be prepared than rely on others. so she'd meant to collect fairymoss, but she got—distracted, really. thoroughly and very pleasantly distracted.

so she goes back, and this time, she starts with collecting fairymoss, putting it in her backpack. that done, she ends up lingering a little, the sweet and almost cloying scent in the air settling in her lungs and leaving heat in her stomach again. staying a while won't hurt, will it? the bar she settles in is a lovely place on the beach overlooking the azure-blue ocean, with canopied beach beds instead of tables. some have their curtains closed, some only half-closed and there are couples in various states of activity in many of them from what dorothy can tell.

she's looking at the ocean and thinking about lucas, about his stubble against her chin when they'd kissed, when a tall and broad figure enters her field of vision, and for a moment, she thinks this must be a dream or a mistake, but—it really is him. ]

Lucas?

[ dorothy doesn't have many friends that she could go out and drink with, but there have been a few evenings when she'd gone out with fellow nurses or people from high school or training, going into the city or into one of lucas' three bars (for a town the size of lucas, it's a high number). she enjoys tipsiness, she likes the looseness and ease of everything when she's drunk, how nothing weighs her down.

she feels that way right now, too, and when ichimatsu laughs, dorothy joins in even though she doesn't quite get the joke. ]

Yeah, I know that. [ she's a nurse! she knows her anatomy! ]

[ dorothy didn't mean to get distracted in this district, but—she can't say that she minds the distraction, exactly, or the result of it. there's a pleasant soreness to her limbs, a heavy sense of satisfaction that's slow to dissipate, though she's beginning to feel the effects of the cloying air rising again, leaving a first sliver of renewed want in her stomach. she's leaving, though, she really is.

until she collides with a guy. he grunts an apology, asking if she's all right, and dorothy is about to answer that she's more than all right when she gets her first good look at him. she knows she probably presents an interesting picture, hair mussed and lips bitten, some colour still in her cheeks, but those are all the result of pleasant physical exertion. he looks like he went a few rounds in a boxing ring fighting a bulldozer, and it's enough to startle dorothy out of her pleasant stupor. ]

I should be asking you that.

[ she shifts her weight to stand a little more solidly, narrowing her eyes. ] You look like you're about to fall over. [ he looks like he needs medical attention, but he also looks like he might be the kind of macho-guy who would never seek it on his own, so dorothy deliberately softens her tone. ] Why don't I show you this cute tea house I found the other day and you buy me a drink to make up for running into me?

[ more like "why don't i show you this cute tea house and you sit down before you actually keel over, buddy" ]

[He had five demonic brothers that he went drinking with at least three times a week, though he didn't always drink much. Whenever he did, usually one, maybe two beers in if he was lucky, he'd wind up a smiling floppy disaster on the oden cart's counter until Karamatsu piggybacked him home. Funny, it was always Karamatsu that did that.]

[He reaches out to take the umbrella from her, grinning crookedly, and shifts it toward the other side of her head.]

Here, put this one here, and then you'll have to get a second one for this side so you match.

[ What Lucas should have done as soon as he heard Dorothy was nearby was message her, but he was still getting to grips with the technology and he felt like it would take him too long to figure it out. Back in Oz, when you wanted to find someone, you searched for them. It could take hours, days, weeks, months, a lifetime, but it was the only way.

So he goes to the district, asking around in shops, bars and restaurants if they've seen a woman by Dorothy's physical description. The longer it takes to find her, the more Lucas feels ill and only Dorothy's touch can cure him. He's had desires for Dorothy before but they've always been quiet and controllable - now it pounds through him wildly. Everything sexual around him in the city - poster advertisements, women scantily clad in window displays - they turn into Dorothy. And even simple, innocent images like a stranger with dark hair passing by makes Lucas think of her, yearn for her. He has no idea why he's thinking like this - too many bad things have happened, too many bad things he's done to her have happened for them to go back the way things were between them. Not to mention he has a wife and every unfaithful thought he's having will send him deeper into hell.

When he finally finds her at the beach bar, he feels slightly out of breath, not from exertion but from Dorothy taking his breath away more than usual. ]

Dorothy...

[ He doesn't tell her she's called him by the wrong name - he's not thinking straight enough for that. She can call him whatever she wants right now, he's just glad to be breathing the same air as her, even though he has no idea what's in the air to make him act so driven by lust. ]

[ he says her name, a little breathless, and he's looking at her like she's the only thing in the world that matters. he's looked at her like that before and there have been moments when it's scared her, the intensity of him, the strength of what he makes her feel. right now, there's no room for fear inside her, just joy and overpowering need. it's him and she needs him, and so she sits up, scooting toward the edge of the canopied bed so she can reach for him. the first touch of her fingers against his hand are a shock to her system, anticipation and desire rising, surging wet and hot between her legs.

it seems like the most natural thing to do, the only thing she can do to pull him down onto the bed, to shift her body to make space for him, but not so much space that they aren't touching. she needs to feel him. she wants him to cover all of her, to sink into her—and if she were thinking clearly, she might realise that this is moving too fast, that she hasn't even said hello, that as far as she's aware, they've never done this before.

none of that seems to matter right now. ] I've missed you.

[ Jim, on the other hand, is all too used to this sort of thing. Well, there's something a little different to it, this time around. He's got his ship here, and while he's still Captain as he would be no matter the world, galaxy or universe, he's visiting the planet just like any other passenger, no particular mission or purpose in mind, no formal introductions or ceremonies or whatever else.

It's kind of a mix, how he feels about that. He does like the freedom he has to move around and explore the islands as he pleases, but he feels almost idle at times, like he's supposed to be doing something else, something... more than just this.

Right now, though, if it means he gets to be sitting on a bar drinking to his heart's content without having to worry about the duties he needs to fulfil or the people he needs to charm and befriend, then all the better. And at least he's not the drunkest person in this place, not by a long shot— that honor seems to belong to the slightly tilted girl that's currently chatting him up. ]

Depends on what you need help with. [ His lips quirk in an amused smile, eyebrow raising. ]

[ It's odd - at least to Lucas - for there to be beds on the beach, but it seems to work for some people occupying them, he notices, and he's glad it's there when Dorothy pulls him down onto it. He shouldn't be glad - he shouldn't be anywhere near Dorothy and a bed right now - but it means they won't have to waste time finding somewhere for them to get comfortable.

Alarm bells should be ringing in his head at her words. I've missed you. She shouldn't. You don't say those words to someone who tried to kill you, but he's too overwhelmed by his physical need to be with her, to overcome by her acting so positively towards him that he doesn't question what's gotten into her. Perhaps she's forgiven him? Perhaps this is all a dream?

Positioning himself beside her, Lucas threads a hand through her hair and strokes her cheek, their legs intertwining. ] I thought I'd never see you again. [ He thought she'd never let him near her if he survived being crucified a second time.

He focuses on her neck - there aren't any marks there from his hands, perhaps any bruises have healed since then, but Lucas tips her chin up to bare more of her throat to him, planting kisses there. They start off as simple pecks - loving, gentle and apologetic - which quickly turn into heated, open-mouth, frankly filthy kisses she would have never experienced from him before.

Stop me, Dorothy, he thinks but doesn't voice the words aloud. He can't say them if it means Dorothy might actually put a stop to this. He's never needed anything more than this, never wanted anyone more. And he could have easily satisfied his desires with other women in the district, but his heart wanted her. ]

[ Luke's making a point to filter through each of the districts in turn, although he's being a bit cautious. He's on a totally new planet and trying to adjust to all of it all over again. The fact that he's begun to notice that the districts seem to be influencing his mood just reinforces that. He's on his way through Gula, pausing now and again to explore when he catches sight of a familiar face and he detours on over. He trails to a halt and stares, blinking.

That's different. ]

Uh. Help you with what?

[ He's not always the brightest boy, OK? ]

[ dorothy hasn't ever been to a beach like this, but she's seen it in movies, in some tv shows, that kind of thing. it isn't odd so much as it is new to her, but it's the kind of new that she appreciates. lucas' body against hers, their legs tangling, that's new as well—at least to dorothy.

she's breathless just from this: his hand in her hair, his palm against her cheek and his thumb stroking her chin—and then he tips her head back and his lips find her throat. the first chaste touch has her only drawing in a sharp breath, her fingers coming up to curl in lucas' much shorter hair, but when that turns into something open-mouthed and filthy, she can't hold back the moan.

maybe they should draw the curtains on the bed, but dorothy doesn't have the presence of mind to do it and there's no one in her field of vision, only the blue sky, the blue water and white sand and lucas. ]

I thought - [ focusing on speech is difficult when all she wants is to feel lucas so much closer. ] I thought that, too.

[ He never thought he'd hear her moan like that for him again. Memories of what happened between them at the farmhouse (not theirs, but for a few hours it had felt like their own) flashback in Lucas' mind - everything but the part where Dorothy tries to leave without him and Sylvie. He blocks that out. He blocks out following Dorothy back to the farmhouse to kill her in the very spot he told her she was the only person he fought for .

Fortunately, Lucas is still conscious enough of his surroundings to realize they should have more privacy. He doesn't care what others see of his body but when it comes to Dorothy - he doesn't want anyone else seeing her at her most vulnerable but him. It's a somewhat possessive thought but it's enough to make him pull back from her neck, though he's quick to say what he's about to do in case she mistakes him for stopping and leaving. ] Wait just a moment.

[ It doesn't take him long to draw the bed curtains around them, though they're light enough that their silhouettes would be seen by any passerby, but it's good enough. Lucas fits himself between Dorothy's legs, leaning down over her. She's intoxicating; he feels drunk off looking at her. ]

[ It's a fair assessment. Wash isn't macho per se, but he has a tendency to put the needs of others before his own and he's been trained—by some of the best the UNSC has—to ignore discomfort and press through it. His injuries aren't life-threatening and they won't hamper his ability to pick up a firearm or enter combat. That's all that ultimately matters to him where his own well-being is concerned.

He breathes out in a low huff at her diagnosis, somewhat amused despite himself. She's right. He feels like he's about to fall over too. ]

Tea house, huh? [ When's the last time he's had tea? He doesn't remember. But he could probably use something to drink and he doesn't mind making up the collision to her this way. ] Sure.

[ And who knows. Maybe the place will have interesting desserts he can purchase for later...

He makes a gesture toward the street, following it up with a quiet; ]

Lead on.

[ finding lucas crucified on the road to emerald city, dorothy wouldn't have expected that it would lead to this—but given how much closer they've grown during their travels, she isn't surprised now that this is their reunion. she would be, if she knew what he knows, but their histories have diverged. lucas had gone to the farmhouse, and dorothy? dorothy had arrived here instead of experiencing that. to her, this is the first time his lips find her skin like this, the first time he's fitted himself between her legs like this, the first time she feels his broad form over her like this, the weight of him bearing down on her oh so deliciously.

she reaches up, curling one hand over the nape of his neck and the other in the material of his shirt, pulling him down, pulling him in for another kiss. ]

[ drunk as she is right now, dorothy wouldn't mind it if he turned into a smiling floppy disaster, honestly. but she doesn't mind it when he grins like that and shifts the umbrella to the other side of her head, either. this is, after all, what she asked for: help with wearing this umbrella she's gotten.

if she keeps ordering drinks and keeps getting umbrellas, where will she put them all? ]

That's a good idea. [ she nods, perhaps a little too vigorously. one of the umbrellas wobbles precariously. ] Why aren't you wearing one?

[ dorothy doesn't know many soldiers or combatants. she knows lucas, who was wizard guard and who's instinct is to kill rather than to maim, who will carry on with an infected wound until he collapses rather than admit that he's in pain, that he is getting worse. she can't tell yet if wash is more like lucas, or more like the young wanna-be cowboys that come into the hospital sometimes all fucked up for no real reason but that they overestimated their abilities.

one way or another, dorothy treats them all. ]

Great. I've been meaning to go back to it. [ she does turn a little and starts walking, slower than she might usually and with her body turned toward wash's. if he shows signs of collapsing, she wants to be able to see them. the tea house isn't far, at least, still right where dorothy remembers it, and if the five minutes walk to it have her stomach tight with unspecific want again, she forces it aside as best as she can.

inside the tea house, it's quiet, set up in such a way that allow each visitor or group of visitors maximum privacy. ] Why don't you find us a spot?

[ dorothy wants to talk to the lady running the place for a moment, to ask for hot water, for antiseptics, for a first aid kid, that kind of thing. the way he looks, she'll need it. and when she joins wash at whatever spot he's picked, first aid kit under one arm, she lies: ] She said we're welcome to stay but only if you get fixed up. [ for emphasis, she shakes the kit a little. ] Lucky for you, I know a thing or two about first aid.

[He watches the umbrella wobble and considers reaching out for it, but he's still not sure about touching her. She's hammered, for one, and he's pretty sure he shouldn't be encouraging her to get more to drink, but maybe he wouldn't mind as much if he got one too. He only struggles for a moment with waving down the bartender, fumbling to order something only to moments later have a colorful lowball grasped between his hands with none other than a paper umbrella in it.]

[His grin is a little uncertain, this time, but he picks up the umbrella and nudges it behind one of his ears.] Better?

[ dorothy can't imagine the reality of being captain of a ship, or she can, but it would be imagination drawn entirely on movies and the occasional sci-fi novel she's read. there haven't been many; space was never a particular passion of hers.

she doesn't assume that the guy she's asked for help is a starship captain, either. why would she? the only captain she knows for sure exists is the one captaining the eluvio, and she hasn't exactly seen a lot of him. he's more of an abstract figure than anything else. jim isn't abstract at all but right in front of her, and so dorothy holds out the umbrella to him. ]

I can't get it behind my ear. [ you know, the one that already has two umbrellas balanced behind it. ]

[ dorothy is going through each of the districts as well, but she isn't particularly cautious. caution isn't a strength of hers, to the frustration of the man who'd styled himself her self-proclaimed protector, who'd cared about her—but lucas isn't here. (not yet, but dorothy doesn't know that he'll arrive soon, and from a time when he's gone from protecting her to something else entirely.)

maybe that's why she's been drinking in gula without a care, or maybe it's the insatiable urge to just keep going that drives her. ]

The umbrella. [ dorothy responds, slowly and with the patience of the drunk. she's smiling up at luke. ] Hi. You're the one who never tried burgers, aren't you? We should get burgers. I bet they have burgers here. And pizza.

[ dorothy is hammered, but she wouldn't have minded if he'd touched. she doesn't mind the loss of control or inhibition that comes with drinking, maybe because the things she'd do while drunk are things she'd do sober, too, most likely. she's avoiding permanence and responsibility, or she was before oz and this feels a bit like a return to how things were in kansas, except she's really not in kansas anymore.

but he gets himself a drink instead, and dorothy takes a sip of her own and smiles, something wide and pleased. no one likes to drink alone. ] Much better!

[It certainly doesn't help that he's caught between Aggressive Virgin Neet Thirst and Being Polite, with a nice heaping portion of Horribly Anxious thrown in. Luckily, Gula seems to have taken care of at least one of these things in a roundabout way-- once that drink is gone, he'll probably have forgotten at least about the anxiety factor. It does, however, help that she's got a real cute smile. He chugs about half his drink.]

What're you doing here all by yourself, anyway?

[ dorothy hasn't been a virgin for a good few years now and sex isn't something that causes her any kind of anxiety, at least not as long as it's casual. emotions, permanence, those make her chest feel tight with conflicting emotions, but the thought of sleeping with someone she doesn't know while drunk, or making a fool of herself or even vomiting all over someone's shoes, that hardly causes her any kind of anxiety. the alcohol is only partially to blame for that. ]

Drinking, obviously. [ she lifts her glass and wiggles it in demonstration. fortunately, it's only half-full and so no liquor sloshes over the sides. sorry, did you not mean for your pick up line to be taken literally? ] What are you doing here all by yourself?

[Please don't puke on his shoes, he usually wears sandals. Though he'd probably at least try to hold her hair out of the way. Probably. With hope of also steering her puking away from his toes. Though really, everything cause Ichimatsu some degree of anxiety-- talking to people, especially, and even moreso when that people happened to be a pretty girl who was, you know. Actually giving him the time of day.]

[He huffs a startled sound at her retort (scratch that, she was pretty and sassy), and grumbles into the rest of his drink, his ears turning red.]

Okay, I walked into that one. I'd say the same, but I wasn't planning on drinking until you got on about the umbrellas. [He didn't answer her question.]

[ she won't puke on his toes, or she probably won't. if she keeps drinking like this, who knows, but maybe at some point a waiter will put food in front of her and her hunger will turn to that instead of alcohol instead. ]

The umbrellas are really cute, though, aren't they?

[ he seems nicer now than he was the last time they talked, so dorothy figures, in the part of her brain that's still capable of rational thought, that he was just really freaked out by seeing a body then. and he hasn't answered her question, but she doesn't even notice that. ]

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( OPEN ) hold me closer, tiny dancer

hello friend,

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— CLOSED TO LUCAS

hello :*

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