[Greed's footsteps circle like the beating wings of a vulture, closer and closer to something a-twitch in the leaden heat of a dust bowl. A banked fire heralded by the gentle ring of metal, the creak of old boards underfoot.]
[Stocke doesn't flinch; his eyes slit open as the Sin cools his flames, follow him from side to side, but the shade doesn't turn to chase the closing loops. Stocke's shoulders dip slowly down. He knows this dance; as far as he's concerned, he's safe enough that he can't call himself the prey. Better to name his role as the dark patch the vulture casts, shielded from the sun.]
[The shade flicks his tendrils softly, acknowledging. Quiet -] Anyone been causing trouble? [He's thinking of one group, one person in particular - the Toyotomi's new leader, insistent and impatient, an ambitious feather in his cap. But if there was something else, or something more, he'd hardly be surprised. After two months...]
[Stocke tilts his head to the side as he waits for the answer, as if he's considering something. There's a sharp brightness in his gaze, the glint of a scale tipping back and forth - his gaze follows Greed crossing in front of him, the way the demon tosses his head back.]
[It's a long stretch of seconds before the shade's stance shifts. Subtly: a slight drag of one heel to the side, as if he's getting ready for a jump, a hand's fingers bending for a moment at his side. His tendrils are slower as Greed passes through them at his back. Despite it all, Stocke waits until Greed moves out in front of him again, another coil the tighter.]
[Abrupt - the shade closes the last fragment of distance, stepping into the demon's way. The song's familiar to them both, but suddenly Stocke's playing new notes; he reaches to curl fingers around the back of Greed's neck, winding through hair and against scale and smoldering lines. Then he leans up and forward, pressing his lips against the Sin's own.]
[It's clumsy, with a clack of teeth; for all the confidence the rest of Stocke's stance screams, there's something hesitant about this last. Experimental.]
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[Stocke doesn't flinch; his eyes slit open as the Sin cools his flames, follow him from side to side, but the shade doesn't turn to chase the closing loops. Stocke's shoulders dip slowly down. He knows this dance; as far as he's concerned, he's safe enough that he can't call himself the prey. Better to name his role as the dark patch the vulture casts, shielded from the sun.]
[The shade flicks his tendrils softly, acknowledging. Quiet -] Anyone been causing trouble? [He's thinking of one group, one person in particular - the Toyotomi's new leader, insistent and impatient, an ambitious feather in his cap. But if there was something else, or something more, he'd hardly be surprised. After two months...]
[Stocke tilts his head to the side as he waits for the answer, as if he's considering something. There's a sharp brightness in his gaze, the glint of a scale tipping back and forth - his gaze follows Greed crossing in front of him, the way the demon tosses his head back.]
[It's a long stretch of seconds before the shade's stance shifts. Subtly: a slight drag of one heel to the side, as if he's getting ready for a jump, a hand's fingers bending for a moment at his side. His tendrils are slower as Greed passes through them at his back. Despite it all, Stocke waits until Greed moves out in front of him again, another coil the tighter.]
[Abrupt - the shade closes the last fragment of distance, stepping into the demon's way. The song's familiar to them both, but suddenly Stocke's playing new notes; he reaches to curl fingers around the back of Greed's neck, winding through hair and against scale and smoldering lines. Then he leans up and forward, pressing his lips against the Sin's own.]
[It's clumsy, with a clack of teeth; for all the confidence the rest of Stocke's stance screams, there's something hesitant about this last. Experimental.]