Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Observing Trifles on 13-03-2014, 02:27:03</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>13-03-2014, 02:27:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(http://oi59.tinypic.com/50nwd4.jpg)</div>Kyrie didn't expect to survive long in prison. Had it been any other institution, with four walls, individual cells, and some kind of structure, he might have lasted much longer. But in Arcadia, his days were almost certainly numbered. In the back of his mind, he entertained the grim notion that he could count his remaining days on one hand. He no longer had it in him to be optimistic. He had been once, but not after all that his young eyes had witnessed.<br><br>Indeed, the walls surrounding Arcadia had been built to contain men much stronger than Kyrie. Years before, it had existed as a city for the ages rife with opportunity and promise. Once a booming metropolis, home to some of the country's brightest and most influential people, crime had claimed the city, steadily transforming it into a cesspool of greed and corruption from which there was no return. Malfeasance dripped from its very pores, until it became a veritable breeding ground for criminals of every kind.<br><br>At some point, it had become apparent to city, state, and national officials that the city was beyond saving. No number of arrests could stop what had begun inside the once golden, glittering metropolis. A swift evacuation took place, one which saw both the innocent and the wealthy removed from the crime-riddled environment. Powered by generators buried deep underground, transparent barriers went up - hugely powerful fields of energy with no discernible mass - creating a dome from which there was no escape.<br><br>At some point, the country's worst all found their way into the massive prison, usually as a last resort. When a mere prison cell wouldn't do, when the death penalty wasn't an option, or when government officials needed to make an offender disappear, Arcadia was the answer. When a criminal of any caliber was sent to Arcadia, he was almost certain to never pop up on anyone's radar ever again. He would simply disappear. Kyrie was one of them.<br><br>He hadn't been completely innocent. He knew that. He had never tried to run from justice, nor had he attempted to deny his involvement, especially not when he found himself in handcuffs and thrown into the back of a black van. In fact, he had been perfectly ready to divulge every scrap of information he retained, hoping it would mean an easier sentence that wouldn't completely ruin his life. What Kyrie hadn't counted on was turning into someone's scapegoat, and before he knew it, a federal court found him guilty of triple homicide and, in an attempt to make an example out of him, he was placed on the first bus to Arcadia.<br><br>That had been six weeks ago. Maybe five, maybe seven; Kyrie had lost count, largely due to malnutrition and exhaustion. The feds air-dropped shipments of supplies every so often, but the prevalence of organized gangs ensured that when the shipments came, they were usually confiscated by the groups with enough manpower to guard them. Worse yet, they were usually only distributed with the expectation of either favors or outright slavery. One either became a thug under someone else's control, or one starved to death.<br><br><div class="floatleft">(http://i57.tinypic.com/2yvwj7q.jpg)</div>Kyrie was no thug. He didn't have it in him to be someone's hired muscle. A touch under five and a half feet and leaning toward scrawny, he simply wasn't cut out for the work it entailed. His skillset was far more suited to stealth and defense, and even that had failed him in recent days. That was, in fact, how not long after midnight, he found himself in one of his worst scrapes since his imprisonment.<br><br>He didn't know how he did it, nor what had given him the ability, but Kyrie had a knack for blending into his environment. The pigments of his skin were fluid, capable of drastic change so that he could fade into the background when the necessity arose. More than that, he was able to phase himself out of one location and into another - provided he could see where he was to land. Those abilities had kept him alive this long, but his luck was running out. That night, Kyrie had been fortunate enough to spot one of the shipments as it fell from the skies, just one of about a hundred dropped from a fleet of helicopters on a regular basis.<br><br>Unfortunately, just as he reached the bundle of crates, one of the local gangs closed in to get their share - their share being all of it. Kyrie usually had very sharp senses. More often than not, he could pick up on gangs a mile away and phase away before the danger reached him, but weakened as he was, with very little sustenance in his system, he didn't notice any of them until a meaty hand closed around the neck of his jacket and yanked him away from the crates. The little slip of a thing wriggled in his grasp, shouting to let him go. The six-foot-something thug laughed and shook him hard enough that Kyrie fell right out of his jacket and onto the broken asphalt, hissing as the impact split open the skin of his elbow.<br><br>"Fuck," Kyrie muttered, arranging his legs under himself and cradling his arm. "Fucking idiot, could've broken my arm..." His eyes widened instantly and he regretted the word as soon as they spilled from his lips, for not a moment later, the towering hulk of a man was glaring down at him, dark eyes blazing.<br><br>"What'dju say to me, you little bitch?" he barked, at which Kyrie frantically worked his way back to his feet, ignoring his lost jacket and bleeding arm.<br><br>"I didn't mean it. Really, I just-" But before he could finish a sentence, a bulky fist went straight to the side of his head, rattling him enough that for a second time, he went down to the ground. The ringing in his ears was so bad that he couldn't think, nor did he immediately register his surroundings until he felt a large boot slamming into his chest and stomach three times in rapid succession, causing him to curl into himself, his upper body heaving with deep coughs.<br><br>When a fraction of Kyrie's senses returned to him, he had the presence of mind to cover his head with one arm, just in case the man decided to give him a parting concussion. He knew that he couldn't phase away from this. He was far too tired.<br><br>"Jeezus, Marty, will you hurry the fuck up?" one in the group of five grumbled. "Rick's gonna have a fucking fit if we don't get this shit back."<br><br>Marty grunted, stepping back from Kyrie long enough to reach into his pocket and produce a pocketknife. "Calm your tits," he bit back. "Just gonna give the little bitch something to remember me by..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>13-03-2014, 03:59:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It had been just about a decade now, had it not? A decade since Michael had felt freedom. A decade since he had last fought for what he believed in. Really, it had been a decade since he had last believed in anything at all. He was but a wandering, muttering shell of the man he once was. Being a poor child in a poor neighborhood had led to his youth being spent mostly roaming the streets. With nothing to do, and nothing to loose, a young man can easily get in trouble, and get in trouble he managed to do quite often. <br>For the most part he was nothing more than a common street rat - A bit of vandalism, snatching beer from the supermarket. It wasn't until he get much older that he would come to learn what <em>real</em> trouble was.<br><br>He had a front row seat to a robbery gone too far. 'They aren't even loaded!' they had told him. 'No one is going to get hurt, come on man!' they pressured, and he felt the weight of the revolver in his hand. With a nod, and nerves that felt as though they would split him apart right down the middle he pulled the black stocking he had been given to hide his identity over his head and jumped out of the van alongside Jamie and Matt.<br>Everything was going according to plan, or so he thought at least. He didn't have to say anything - Just point the gun, and Jamie would do the talking. He could do that!<br>What they Matt had a gun too, a proper one even. He'd 'borrowed' it from his father, or so he said. His dad was an ex-cop turned drunkard, yet he had managed to keep hold of his service pistol it seemed. <br>The old man behind the counter wasn't going to be easily scared though, and when he pulled out a stun-gun from under the desk and took down Jamie, things suddenly spun rapidly out of control. <br><br>He bolted, charging down the street, leaving both gun and stocking behind in a ally. He must've gone several miles before he settled in between two dumpsters to rest, too exhausted to go on. The sound of Matt's gun still rung in his ears, and the old mans groans. Worst of all though, was that distinct sound of bullets, tearing through someone's body. That soft, yet brutal sound.<br><br>About three years later, Michael had turned his life around and started over. He had gotten a decent job, he had even taken up self-defense as a hobby - and it turned out he was a natural. He was quite agile, surprisingly strong, fast and very perceptive. <br>His job wasn't as exciting as his hobby, but it paid for his flat, and he got decent meals, with a bit of cash to spare at the end of the month. Of course all of this harmony was to be torn apart as well, the day of the accident. A forklift truck, carrying a load of canisters, all full of highly flammable fuel crashed. A spark, a bang, and Michael diving in to pull the driver out of the wreckage. He succeeded, but it was at a great price. A canister blew up next to him, and flung him through the room, tearing his right arm clean off from it's socket.<br>His right side, from the neck and down was engulfed in flame, his leg getting the worst of it. It was removed during surgery, as doctors fought a great battle to save his life, yet with half of his body virtually gone it seemed to be almost impossible.<br><br>Yet it would turn out that Michael had another natural talent. Or perhaps natural was the wrong word to use - Yet he still had the ability none the less. He didn't die that day, oh no. He made a most remarkable recovery. A recovery that was so remarkable in fact, that he was transferred to a private hospital, and kept under surveillance. It would turn out that he wasn't no ordinary bloke. He was the last remnant of a government experiment. Yes, it almost sounds cliche, does it not? However this was very much the truth. He was the only person to ever have survived the Homo Caudata experiments, focused on merging human and Salamander DNA, with the goal of achieving a human capable of regenerating lost limbs. <br>Oh it was a long and agonizing process, but indeed Michaels limbs started growing back, cell by cell, nerve by nerve. Weeks of torture later, he was blessed with half a body, brand new and shiny. Yes, shiny. No skin had grown back, but of course it was not just flesh suspended from bones either - Dark green scales covered every inch of right side, all the way up to his lower neck. Retractable claws on his new hand and foot, a sudden decrease in overall body temperature, bones growing far more agile and bendy, to the point where they would not break unless introduced to rather extreme force.<br>It seemed the accident had triggered the latent genes within him, yet with his supernatural appearance, he was deemed a failure.<br><br>He was left to his own devices, given a new identity, a new home. He had to start from scratch, but it was tougher than it had ever been before, now that his resume had to include 'visible scale-like growth'. It was written off as a disease on the papers he had been given - The result of extensive use of cheap and impure street drugs, such as Krokodil. <br>What life did he have left now?<br>That question was soon to be answered, by the same government that had taken away his identity to begin with.<br><br>He became an officer of the law, in a manner of speaking. As a prototype of his kind, he was given equipment, tools, even weapons. Officially, the vigilante 'Lizard' was born, yet in reality he was nothing more than a new experiment - An urban soldier of sorts. Yet he became quite popular none the less. A superhero, people on the street called him. He smiled as he read his nickname on the front page of the papers in the morning, and he got high on adrenaline at night, roaming the streets, bringing down those who would break the law.<br><br>Seven years of service, plus/minus a few weeks, was about what he had raked up when he suddenly vanished. One day he just was no more. No more articles, news-flashes or heroic deeds. Not as much a kitten saved from a tree. 'Lizard' had seemingly retired.<br><br><div align="center">(https://www.blastr.com/sites/blastr/files/styles/blog_post_media/public/images/JohnBarrowmanHarknessTorchwood1.JPG?itok=3817jka2)</div><br>He had seen the air drop from a distance, and decided to go see if there was anything left to take home with him. He knew how these food drops tended to be swarmed by thugs, like flies on fresh feces, but he wasn't scared of something as simple as common bandits. It was a dog-eat-dog world in here, in this satire of a 'correctional facility' where the strong got fed and the weak were left to starve, or worse.<br>He could hear noises up ahead, and decided to cut through and alley and climb a fence. Once on the other side he stayed out of view, watching the situation unfold. Six men, one of them obviously not a part of the group as he was singled out and thrown to the ground by the biggest of the bunch. He kept calm for the time being, just watching, his gloved right hand clenched into a fist. He saw the man lean over the one on the ground - Tiny by comparison. He bent his knees slightly, ready to charge. Then he drew out of knife, and the game was on.<br><br>"Hey, what th- Uff!"<br>He threw himself on the big one, almost a match in size alone, knocking him to the ground, and sending the knife flying in the opposite direction. His gloved hand came down hard on his face, and as it drew back, a spurt of crimson followed from the thugs nose.<br>Michael jumped to his feet, knowing that the other four weren't going to take this lightly. He caught a fist in his hand, before it reached his cheekbone, and he returned an elbow to the chest of his foe. Then came another first, and he sidestepped it, yet he didn't register the plank of wood that was cracked over his head, sending him to his knees with a groan.<br>"Get the bastard!"<br>One shouted, as the big guy got back on his feet, and launched a hefty knee right into Michael's face, sending him backwards, his own nose now dripping. He rolled over, got up, and got back into the fray. A punch, a kick to the stomach - One thug panting for breath on the floor. He grabbed a can of bean from the food stash, and hurled it into the face of the smallest amongst them, bringing about an uncomfortable cracking noise, and a rather oddly shaped nose. Two down.<br>They were slowing down, obviously nervous. Michael's eyes were focused, shifting between them, ignoring the blood from his nose. Then one of them came towards him, but lost his bearings as Michael spat out what seemed to be blood from his mouth into his eye, causing the man to roar in fury as Michael dove down, and then flung him over his shoulder.<br><br>"To hell with Rick! He's not worth this!"<br>The smallest of the remaining combatants squealed, and turned on his heels.<br>"Fuck no, let's bail!"<br>The big one shouted, and the three remaining scrambled to their feet, doing their best to keep up. He had done it. Michael eased his fighting stance, stretching his back and bringing his gloved had up to wipe away the blood from his nose, with rather annoyed huff. <br>"Too old for this.."<br>He muttered under his breath. His eyes turned to the man he had saved. He sized him up, then shook his head, almost looking sad for a moment, on behalf of this boy. How was he ever going to make it in here? It was like throwing a baby giraffe into a cage of starving hyena's. He turned his attention to the food, and took off his backpack, unzipping it, and starting to load it with cans of.. Well, whatever it was. It didn't matter, being picky was not a luxury one could afford in here.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>13-03-2014, 04:44:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It took Kyrie a good bit of time to get his wits about him. Mercifully, his ears stopped ringing and his vision came back into focus, but a good minute or two passed before he had enough presence of mind to realize what was going on around him. Where before he had counted five, he now counted six other men - one of whom was fighting the others like his life depended on it. And in Arcadia, it probably did.<br><br>Slowly sitting upright, he reached up, pushing his long, dark hair out of his face and surveying the area. He wasn't at all stupid enough to let his guard down, but from the look of things, the odds had tipped in his favor. The sixth man, whoever he was, seemed to have no trouble dispatching the other five, and before long only the two of them remained in the street. Everyone else had run.<br><br>Releasing a long, deep breath, Kyrie eased himself onto his knees, reaching for his black leather jacket a few paces away. He moved slowly at first, sizing the other man up, trying to determine whether or not he was a threat. "... Thank you," he offered at last. But in truth, he wasn't sure if it was warranted. For all he knew, the man had only jumped in to claim his share of the supplies. If that was the case, Kyrie wasn't yet out of the woods.<br><br>But there was only one way to find out. To that end, the young man then reached for one of the cans that had rolled in his direction during the ruckus. He held it up, inquiring, "Do you mind if I...?" To his chagrin, Kyrie wasn't in a position to simply take what he wanted unless the other man made it clear that he wasn't a threat. He simply didn't have the raw strength, and given the nature of their surroundings, he highly doubted that the stranger would turn a kind eye on him. It just didn't happen.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>13-03-2014, 05:10:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael had soon stuffed his backpack with what he felt was his fair share of the food on offer. How had it ever come to this? Scavenging in an open street.. Luckily this was far from his only food source, but when opportunity presented itself, it had to be taken. Who knew when he might get another chance to stock up so easily. beating up a bunch of hooligans for a few days of nutrition was to be considered 'easy' by the rules of Arcadia at least.<br><br>He hooked his backpack over his right shoulder, and turned to look at the man on the ground, sitting with a can in his hand. It took a while for him to fully realize that he was actually being asked for permission to take some of the food. There was still plenty left, and Michael furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, out of sheer astonishment. This boy was fresh meat, he had to be. With that attitude though, he wasn't going to last much longer in this environment.<br><br>"No.. Of course, go ahead."<br>He finally said, urging Kyrie to take what he needed. Truth be told he felt bad for him, knowing how hard life was going to be for someone like him. Starving to death was far from the worst fate he could expect in here. If he wasn't affiliated with anyone, and.. Well, rather pretty to be completely honest, he would have to be extra careful. Some of the inmates here were nothing more than mere animals in Michael's eyes. The kind of people to whom Arcadia was a dreamworld, rather than a punishment. A place of total chaos, ruled by anarchy alone, and whomever had the most muscle behind them. So many gangs, so many dangerous villains. The irony that Michael was sharing a prison with a whole bunch of people whom he had condemned to prison himself.<br><br>His voice was calm, yet somewhat dismissive as he answered the youngsters question. It was easy to see that Michael was not only physically superior, but also easily twice Kyrie's age. Not that he really looked old, in fact he thought himself somewhat well preserved, when pushing forty. But his eyes told a different story - Eyes that had seen too much. A mind full of pictures that would never be deleted.<br>He dropped his gaze from Kyrie, figuring that it would be best to just move on, and try to forget about him. Funny how things worked out - Michael's old flat from before he was imprisoned was nearby. He used to live here back in the day, and when he had been transferred to this place he had been at least somewhat pleased to return home and find his place intact.<br><br>He started walking away, when he felt something along the lines of an emotional hook inside, stopping him in tracks. He shook his head to himself, sighing deeply, then he glanced over his shoulder.<br>"You.."<br>He started, his voice not really giving any clear sign of where he was going. It was just a deep, rolling word. It sounded like he didn't really talk an awful lot - Which was true.<br>"Do you know anyone? Do you have a place to sleep?"<br>He asked, his eyes almost betraying a somewhat worried look. Winter was still just around the corner, and already the nights would often drop to below the freezing point, leaving a layer of frost over the city. He cursed himself and his conscience for what he was doing. If he kept this up, he was going to end up bringing home the human equivalent of a stray cat. The last thing he needed was a spare mouth to feed and a litterbox to clean out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>13-03-2014, 05:27:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Maybe it was a stupid question, but it seemed the safest course of action to Kyrie. He had no way of knowing if the other man was just as violent and territorial as the rest. Logic told him that the man was indeed equally dangerous, which prompted him to take extra care. The last thing he needed was for the stranger to finish what the other thug had started. As such, the look of surprise on the man's face bewildered Kyrie in turn.<br><br>But he didn't have time to think about what it meant. He had to take what he could get before the other scavengers closed in on the drop. And so, without missing a beat, Kyrie reached into his jacket pocket for a thin plastic bag and, with some difficulty, stood and approached the crate to gather all he could carry. This drop was the same as any other; mostly canned goods, packets of dried meat, and bars of soap. Water was readily available in most parts of the prison, so even on the rare occasion bottles of water were present in the crates, hardly anyone bothered with them. It was smarter to carry food.<br><br>Occupied with arranging things in his bag, Kyrie didn't notice the other man pausing to look back at him. He had figured he would simply move on, now that he had gotten enough supplies to sustain him for a while. So when instead the man called out to him, to make sure he had somewhere to go, the young man lifted his head and regarded him with a slightly puzzled expression. Why did he care? Unless he wanted something, of course, but somehow Kyrie doubted it.<br><br>"I... well..." Furrowing his brow, Kyrie sighed as he registered a warm trickle at the side of his head, reaching up to discover that he was bleeding there as well. Only a minor cut, but frustrating all the same. The last thing he needed was to have blood caked in his long mane. "I don't exactly have a place of my own," he admitted, leaning down to tie up the plastic bag, satisfied that he had packed it as much as he could without ripping it open. "Mostly I just... wander until I find a place that'll last me a day or two."<br><br>Kyrie's former living arrangements had gone up in flames - literally. The lawlessness of Arcadia ensured that everyone everywhere got away with everything, including throwing pipe bombs to settle various scores. The last turf war had set flames to half a city block weeks before, burning through the fairly decent lodgings Kyrie had found for himself. Ever since then, he had been forced to move about nearly every night. All he had left sat in a small backpack on the street corner, which he had dropped in his haste to get to the drop before anyone else.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>14-03-2014, 00:40:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael sighed yet again - It was really starting to turn into a rather bad habit at this point it seemed. He turned his eyes front again, and for a moment contemplated taking another step, before weighing his options. This boy wasn't going to last on his own, there was no way he could survive for long in here, and the odds dropped even lower when he found out that he did not have an actual 'base' in here yet. Had he least gotten a place to hide, and stay warm for the night, then it wouldn't be as bad to leave him behind, but leaving him on his own on the streets..?<br><br>"If you want it, I've got a couch to spare."<br>He said, not looking back this time, as he was busy arguing with himself inside his mind, wondering if this was the right thing to do at all. A decade in an extreme-security facility had the side effect of butchering your ability, and desire, to trust others. Especially strangers. Especially times two, strangers in a prison.<br><br>"I haven't got much to offer, apart from running water and a stove, and occasional electricity."<br>He confessed, almost as though he was suddenly like an estate agent, trying to rent a room to this boy whom he didn't even know yet. In fact he didn't even know his name yet. The only relation he had to him was the urge to get him off the street before he got a knife stuck between his ribs.<br>"You can stay for the night, and get those bruises fixed."<br>He offered, but he didn't seem to be waiting for a response, as he then finally got himself convinced that he had done everything in his power, and he started walking down the street. if Kyrie would follow or not was up to himself.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>14-03-2014, 02:51:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie wasn't expecting any displays of kindness from fellow prisoners. They hadn't been tossed inside because of their altruism, after all. So when Michael offered him a place to stay for the night, the young man merely stared after him for a moment, perplexed. What was he playing at? Surely he had to want something in exchange for offering the use of his couch.<br><br>But no... that wasn't it. If he had wanted anything, he would have set his terms rather than simply walked away. That had to mean something good - or at least, Kyrie hoped it did. He really didn't have much else going for him.<br><br>"It's more than I have," Kyrie replied. "Thank you." Water and electricity was far more than he had had access to since his incarceration. As such, he didn't even give a second's thought to turning down the man's generous offer. It would have been stupid. And so, without hesitation, Kyrie hurried to the corner, shouldered his worn backpack, and hurried along after Michael. The man didn't seem to keen on waiting for him, and Kyrie wasn't going to try his luck by falling behind.<br><br>Keeping close to Michael, lingering behind only a few steps in the name of self preservation - there was no way he would willingly show his back to a complete stranger - Kyrie peered up at him, curious. "Is it far?" he dared to ask, slowing down long enough to place his jacket over one shoulder, then speeding up to ensure he didn't fall behind.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>14-03-2014, 03:38:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael simply nodded - Not even bothering to turn in the direction of Kyrie as he did it. So the boy took him up on his offer. Oh well, what was done was done, nothing he could change now. He could only hope that the boy in question would at least show the respect of repaying his kindness by being at least somewhat trustworthy. It wouldn't be the first time he had severely misjudged a situation, should the kid try and double-cross him, or rip from him his sparse possessions in this place. Everyone had their life in the balance every moment of being in here though, so at the end of the day - What would change? Yet a knife in his back within his own home would be.. Well, a less than ideal way to leave the stage.<br><br>"No, it's right around the corner."<br>He said, being surprisingly literal as he turned around the next corner, into an alley. It seemed a dead end, and it was, if not for the rusty old ladder that hung down, part of a fire escape. He climbed it, and went up the creaking metal stairs until the second floor, expecting that Kyrie would follow. He seemed agile enough.<br>Then he crawled in an open window, waiting for Kyrie to follow before closing it behind him, and snapping a padlock in place to keep it closed. The flat they found themselves in was empty and worn, a broken bulb the only thing littering the floor.<br><br>Luckily this wasn't their final destination, as Michael went right out of there, into the corridor, and down that until they were at a staircase. It had been blocked by old, ruined furniture and.. Well, anything that might stop someone from using the stairs. It seemed that Michael had done his utmost to make this old, run-down apartment complex look even more deserted and unusable.<br>Up the stairs they went, to the fifth and top floor, and Michael fished a key from his pocket, unlocking an old, creaking, reinforced door. To any onlooker, Michael might just seem like a paranoid wreck by now. Yet as they entered, and Michael shut the door, locking it from the inside, it was quite something, compared to the barren flat they had entered before.<br><br>Everything looked rather old, and the place was a bit messy, not to mention dusty. It was a three-room flat, with a decent bathroom, which even included the luxury of a bathtub. The living room was a bit dull, a bookshelf, a table in front of a couch (as promised) an old TV, some chairs and a dining table. <br>"I'm Michael."<br>He said, breaking the silence between them as he opened the door to what would turn out to be a kitchen, and put his backpack down on the counter. He took off his vintage trench coat, putting it down next to it, wearing an old, faded grey sweater underneath. The glove on his right hand stayed on though, for undisclosed reasons.<br>He checked to see if the stove was working, and luckily it was. Electricity wasn't reliable, and being this close to the barrier meant it was often disrupted by the generators.<br>"Bathroom's out there. Stay out of the bedroom."<br>The last room, other than the living and the bedroom, seemed to have been converted into some kind of miniature fitness center, complete with a padded floor, weights, and various machines and contraptions for keeping fit.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>14-03-2014, 03:57:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fortunately, they didn't have far to go before they reached Michael's building. Kyrie considered himself especially lucky for that, not only so they could remove themselves from the openness of the streets but also because he was too tired to carry his things much further. The bag of canned goods weighed him down considerably, but he kept up with Michael, comforted in the knowledge that his place wasn't far away.<br><br>It did, however, take some doing to get there. The ladder barely looked strong enough to carry one person, let alone two, but Kyrie didn't weigh very much, and he supposed he could at least try to phase himself elsewhere if the metal was to give way. Thankfully, it didn't come to that. He did, however, have to balance himself carefully to carry the bag up without dropping anything.<br><br>Grunting softly as he pulled himself into the window, Kyrie followed Michael through the dim hallway, only too eager to slip into his flat. He took care as he entered, as though brushing against a wall might be one infraction too many, and he looked around with no shortage of curiosity. The man was surprisingly well off. Furniture, a stove, and a TV. It was far more than most other places in Arcadia.<br><br>Glancing over, Kyrie registered the man's name with a nod, wasting no time in offering his own. It seemed rude to not even give him that much. "Kyrie." Padding over to the couch, he set down his bags, drawing his jacket off his shoulder and dropping it on top of his things. The grey tank top he wore underneath seemed a touch too big for him, billowing around his slim frame, although his jeans and boots fit well, as they were the only items of clothing he retained from his former life.<br><br>Kyrie turned to his host, slightly tentative, and nodded as he was told to keep away from the bedroom. He could understand Michael's need for personal space. "I will," he promised. "I... really appreciate this. By morning, I can be out of your hair. But until then, is there... well, can I do anything to be useful?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>14-03-2014, 04:13:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael messed about in the kitchen, leaving the door open. Both in case that his visitor should want to engage in some kind of conversation, and to be able to keep an eye on him as he settled himself in on the couch. He repeated his name in his head, pondering it for a few moments. Quite an unusual name it was too. At least Michael had never heard it before.<br>As Kyrie's jacket came off, he let his eyes linger for a moment, yet he kept the same passive facial expression. Oh dear, he was actually quite a pretty thing. Yet he shook it off, not only was he obviously a criminal, he was also young - Just barely half his own age, judging by his thin frame and youthful face.<br><br>"I can't think of anything in particular."<br>He answered to Kyrie's question, not sure what else he could've said. It would be a tad odd to ask him to go around, dusting off or cleaning, wouldn't it? And Michael had even stopped caring about the looks of his home quite a while ago, which probably wasn't surprising. After having been left alone for just about a decade, the amount of dust in some places was.. Considerable. <br><br>"I'll get some food ready. You should probably go and take a look at those bruises. I think there's even some hot water if you want a shower before dinner."<br>He suggested calmly, reaching into a cupboard to find a pot, and then rummaging around, looking for his can opener. He had a humble collection of articles in his bathroom for washing - Washing cloths, shampoo, a small selection of soaps and other slightly more luxurious products. He knew how to get his hands on such things in here, even if they were far from his main priority.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>14-03-2014, 04:37:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie's countenance lit up at the prospect of a hot shower. "Really?" He hadn't had one of those since arriving in the prison. Hot water was a luxury that only a few of the prisoners could afford, which meant that up until that point, he had gotten by on quick, cold sponge baths from whatever water source he could find. A safe place to sleep and a hot shower? He couldn't ask for anything more.<br><br>Without another word, Kyrie took his backpack and hurried into the bathroom Michael had indicated before. He didn't intend on using any of the man's resources if he could help it - except for food, if it was offered, simply because it seemed wise to save as much as he could, ensuring his survival for another day. But he had no problem using his own bar of soap. He had scavenged a few from the drop that night, anyway.<br><br>After he closed and locked the bathroom door, only a slight rustling came from the small room before the sound of running water deafened all else. Kyrie wasn't stupid enough to waste hot water, so he bathed quickly, scrubbing himself clean from head to toe until, in places, his skin turned pink from the harsh exfoliation. More noticeable than that, however, were the ugly bruises forming on his chest and stomach, and the red running down the length of his arm. They would heal quickly, though, of that he was sure. He never sustained damage for very long.<br><br>Kyrie shut off the hot water tap before all the heat had left the pipes, just in case his host was to want a shower as well. The last thing he wanted was to appear rude. From a nearby shelf he procured a large towel, rubbing his long hair dry and then carefully patting down the rest of himself, not wanting to agitate his wounds. Hanging up the towel soon after, he climbed back into his clothes, satisfied that they were clean enough for another night.<br><br>Only ten minutes after closing the door did Kyrie emerge, dragging his backpack along with him as he made his way back to the couch, collapsing into it with a low sigh. "Much better," he murmured, combing his fingers through his damp hair. "I appreciate it. I haven't felt warm water in forever..." Pursing his lips, he leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the man who had taken him in for the night. He looked older - definitely over thirty. So how long, then, had he been imprisoned here?<br><br>Kyrie didn't dare to ask. It seemed unwise to ask too many questions, even if he did want to know why Michael had protected him, offered him a place to stay... and why he wore a glove that seemed oddly out of place on his person.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>15-03-2014, 06:10:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael took advantage of the privacy, how brief it might be. He removed his worn leather glove and stretched his scaly digits, watching as they reflected the light from the bare bulb above him in the kitchen. He went on to pouring the contents of different cans into the pot on the stove, trying to mix something that would, with the relatively limited means he was given here in this small kitchen, with these rations, at least be edible, and if possible, even just a little tasty. He had a small selection of spices to work with as well, so he put some old, rather dry oregano in. Not much flavor left in it, but it was something right? Now that he had a guest he might as well.. Make it that much more of an interesting meal.<br><br>As he heard the bathroom door open, he quickly pulled his glove back on.<br>"No problem."<br>He replied to Kyrie's grateful remarks about having been allowed a shower. He was rather surprised at how quick he had been about it - He looked like that kind of person who might spend half an hour in the bathroom if he could get away with it, and that was on a particularly busy day. Oh well, it was far from the biggest surprise Michael had ever had.<br><br>He grabbed two plates, and two forks, and went into the living room, putting them on the dining table, much as one would expect. He then went out into the kitchen again to fill a pitcher with water, and get two cups. Old coffee mugs by the looks of it. One even had a joke printed on it! Well.. It used to, but most of the letters had peeled off my now, and there were really just a big 'F' and some random black dots on it now.<br>Then he carried in the steaming pot, and put it on the table, between the two.<br>"Dinner is served."<br>He said, a strange look on him as he beheld the contents of the pot.<br>"Beans, other beans, and some canned beef.. I think"<br>He muttered, before taking a seat, and serving himself a dish, and then offering the ladle to Kyrie. The food wasn't too bad, but it was a bit stale and dull. At least it had that slight taste of oregano in there, making it just a tad more interesting. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>16-03-2014, 06:17:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At that point, Kyrie would have eaten almost anything. As such, the dull nature of the food didn't bother him at all. No sooner did Michael offer him the ladle did Kyrie serve himself a portion and, without hesitation, dug into it whole-heartedly. His table manners weren't exactly lacking, but his hunger was quite evident. He hadn't eaten properly in nearly a week, which ensured that he went through a good half of his plate very quickly.<br><br>It was only after he had nearly finished his food that Kyrie thought about what it must have looked like. He was just surprised he didn't have food all over his face, with how quickly he had eaten. Clearing his throat, he reached up, discreetly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled, sitting back into the couch cushions and heaving a deep sigh. "Food's been pretty hard to come by for a while."<br><br>Kyrie laid his plate on the edge of the table, deeming it wise to give himself a few minutes before finishing his food. Otherwise, he risked getting sick and hacking it all back up. Leaning forward, he poured himself a cup of water, downing most of it before kicking off his boots and drawing his legs onto the furniture, settling into the corner of the couch. Only then did he dare to look across at Michael, dark eyes betraying his curiosity.<br><br>"You don't look so bad," he said. "Why are you here?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>18-03-2014, 02:09:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was.. Well, surprised, as he beheld the boy before him eat as though food was a completely alien concept for him. It looked like the poor bugger hadn't had a proper meal in days. And as he apologized, he also confirmed that this was the truth, and he hadn't been eating all that much. It was not startling, nor hard to believe. With his scrawny exterior and lack of ability to fight back against the thugs, he was simply going to be at the bottom of the food chain in here. He was more like to be eaten himself than get to eat regularly without any assistance.<br>"Don't worry, there's more where that came from."<br>He said, his monotonous voice broken for a moment by a hint of a chuckle as he went back to his own meal. The mood seemed to be lightening little by little, but Michael was still far from being the most warm and hospitable host at the best of times. Who could blame him? Some people were accused of taking their work home with them - Michael had been sent to live with his, quite literally.<br><br>Minutes passed in silence, before Kyrie again broke it, his words causing Michael's brows to rise for a moment as he looked up from his almost empty plate. He didn't look that bad? Well, that was nice to know at least. Al though that would probably seem detrimental in a prison. He pondered the question in silence, obviously considering his response. Well, why was he here? He had stopped questioning it all a long time ago, forced to face the reality that his life was in a cage now.<br>"I suppose you could say that I'm.. A political prisoner."<br>He then replied, leaving his fork on his empty plate as he leaned back in the chair, thoughtfully turning his eyes up at the ceiling. It was sort of the truth, he was here because he had uncovered things that the government did not necessarily want publicly available. Their own experiment, let loose upon the world by their own hands, had ended up throwing a wrench in their gears, and as such they needed rid of him. They needed to put him somewhere where his knowledge meant nothing, where no one of any importance would ever know. At first it had been an extreme security facility, and when Arcadia was declared open for business, he was sent here as one of the first. He had yet to decide whether it was better or worse than a cell.<br><br>His eyes then turned down from staring at the ceiling, and took to sizing up Kyrie again, his emotionless expression having returned in full.<br>"You don't have the brawn of thug, nor the attitude of a dealer. Too trusting to be a gun-for-hire."<br>He said, seemingly talking to himself as he beheld the young man, easily passing for being just barely half his own age, even if Michael was keeping somewhat in shape. Kyrie was very pretty, surprisingly so considering how long he must've been here already. For his look to last this long meant he had to be quite good at dodging trouble.<br>"But you aren't dropped in here for stealing bubblegum. So, what's your story?"<br>He finally asked. He honestly didn't want to know - He already wasn't pleased about having a criminal under his roof, but what could you do. At least this one was more pleasant than many other were.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>19-03-2014, 20:55:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A political prisoner. Somehow it didn't sound right, but Kyrie was in no position to judge. As they were, trapped like rats in the former city, neither social standing nor morality meant very much. Whatever Michael was in for had to be bad, for nothing short of drastic action could have led to such drastic measures. Accordingly, Kyrie nodded but said nothing, taking another drink of water and sitting back to relax.<br><br>He tensed immediately, however, when Michael turned the question back on him. He supposed he should have seen it coming. It was a rite of passage, wasn't it? Prisoners in the same cell often led with the question of what their new cellmates were in for. All the same, Kyrie wasn't yet ready to divulge his life story, and he doubted Michael wanted to hear all of it. Because of that, he tried his utmost to make his reply as short as possible.<br><br>"Three people were killed," Kyrie told him, eyes hollow. "I was there." He neglected to mention, however, whether or not he had any real hand in it. For one thing, he didn't want to jeopardize having a place to stay for the night by either lying or giving too much. And for another, he doubted that Michael wanted to play Armchair Psychiatrist by listening to all of his problems. Everyone in Arcadia had them.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>22-03-2014, 02:20:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael leaned back in his chair, leaving his fork be on his empty plate as he looked at Kyrie, listening to his answer. God damn it, that wasn't what he was expecting, and on a list of things that he would have dreaded to hear, this was very near the top.<br>"So, murder then, or what?"<br>He asked, his voice a whole lot more cold than it was before, as he quite obviously wasn't too pleased with the situation right now. Having a thief, or an arsonist perhaps, under his roof would have been bad in it's own right, but murder, and then triple murder at that.<br><br>"Or are they locking up bystanders these days?"<br>He added, letting out a sarcastic chuckle. He got out of his chair and started clearing up the table, taking the empty pot and plates into the kitchen. And here he was starting to take a slight liking to his guest, and now it was all back on the floor. He had been incarcerated for far too long. His trust in mankind was failing drastically by now, and he felt the urge to do away with any kind of emotion at this point. What did it all matter when he was locked up in here with all these soulless animals anyway?<br><br>Yet he felt that distinct sting of guilt deep in his chest, as he recalled that particular scenario from his youth. The gun that had turned out to be nowhere near as fake and unloaded as he had been told. The echo of gunfire in the small store, and the sound of a bullet tearing through the poor old man, who had done nothing to deserve his untimely demise.<br>Michael remained silent as he started doing the washing up. Yes, of course he wanted to throw Kyrie out the same door he had entered by, but sending him out on the streets.. He might as well consider himself a murderer if he did that. Silence filled the apartment, only intensified by the feint sound of what seemed to be sporadic gunfire a few blocks away from where they were.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>23-03-2014, 19:06:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie regretted his words the moment they left his lips. He saw the look on Michael's face shift from nearly sympathetic to utterly cold, which did not spell anything good for him. As a distraction, a means to avoid admitting to or denying anything, Kyrie snatched his food back up to finish it, quickly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before surrendering the plate to be cleaned.<br><br>Now that he felt clean and his stomach was sated, Kyrie's main concern was making sure he still had a place to stay for the night. Michael seemed like a very no-nonsense individual, one who probably didn't want a convicted murderer holing up with him. Proclaiming his innocence wouldn't do him any good. No one on the outside had believed him. Pursing his lips, turning his eyes toward the ceiling, he cursed himself for his damn honesty.<br><br>Finally, his eyes turned back to Michael, and he decided right then that he would do whatever he had to, if it meant keeping a roof over his head. To that end he stood, moving into the kitchen and leaning his narrow hip against the counter beside the sink, dark eyes taking on an intensity born from pure necessity. Kyrie reached up, hooking his fingers into the strap of his tank top, suggestively drawing it off his shoulder to show off a bit of skin.<br><br>"Don't make me leave," he murmured, angling his body toward the older man. "I'll make it more than worth your while if you let me stay."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>23-03-2014, 22:19:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was relatively peaceful whilst doing the dishes, even if he seemed quite frustrated by the knowledge that he was housing what he thus far might as well think of as a murderer. One of the worst kinds of people you could possibly run into in this place, and he had been foolish enough to let his consciousness get the better of him, and now he didn't really have any options but to continue sharing his turf with this guy. Of course Kyrie couldn't know about the inner conflict Michael was going through right now, and this became very apparent as the young man made his way to kitchen.<br><br>Michael turned his head to face him as he entered, and listened to his plea. It might not sound like one, but that was what it was - It was easy to tell that Kyrie was desperate, and that he was drawing on whatever power he might have over his fellow inmate to persuade him to not throw him out right then and there. With an eyebrow raised he watched as the pretty bird displayed his feathers as best he could, and the more subtle meaning of his offer was by no means lost on Michael.<br><br>"You can put that away."<br>He sighed, reaching out only to take the strap from Kyrie's top and move it back up onto his shoulder with a rather stern look, before her turned back to the dishes.<br>"Sending you back out there would make me a murderer as well."<br>He muttered, taking his frustrations out on the dishes, the obviously soaked glove on his hand not really helping his ever diminishing patience.<br>"Now if you could please leave me alone before I change my mind.."<br>He then all but snarled at him, before he in what seemed to be a fit of pure frustration and pent-up anger at the world around him. He tore the soaked glove from his hand, and with a roar threw it against the wall. It made a wet splash, followed by a second one as it hit the floor afterwards, yet what might really take up ones attention was probably Michael's hand. Dark green, covered in not skin, but what seemed to be shiny scales, glimmering and glistening in the dim light of the kitchen.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>23-03-2014, 22:51:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie didn't expect to be turned down. He wasn't proud of offering his body as payment for a couch to crash on, but he knew very well that he had a pretty face. No man he had ever pursued on the outside had ever said no, and so he didn't anticipate that an inmate would break his streak. As such, when Michael fixed up his shirt, indicating that he had no interest, Kyrie merely stared at him for a moment, confused.<br><br>On the one hand, he was grateful that Michael seemed to have a moral center, choosing against sending him back out onto the streets to fend for himself. But on the other, he didn't understand how someone with any semblance of a conscience could have ended up in Arcadia. It made no sense. Neither did Michael's sudden display of rage, yanking off his glove and throwing it across the room. The abruptness of it made Kyrie reel back with surprise - but even more surprising was what he saw beneath the discarded piece of leather. Not skin... but scales. Deep green, rough, glittering <em>scales.</em><br><br>Eyes went wide with shock, and for a few long moments he didn't react at all. Then, finally, Kyrie pushed away from the counter and bolted out of the kitchen, rushing through the living room. Some part of him retained Michael's warning not to go into the bedroom, so instead he holed up in the bathroom, shutting, locking, and sitting against the door for good measure. He didn't know why he was so scared. Neither Michael's outburst nor his appearance was the worst thing Kyrie had seen in Arcadia, but...<br><br>It was too much.<br><br>Breathing hard, Kyrie bent forward, closing his eyes as his head fell into his hands. He hadn't allowed himself to completely break down since his imprisonment, mostly for fear of attracting attention to himself, but as he sat on the bathroom floor, he fell apart.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>23-03-2014, 23:31:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael didn't know what to expect from his outburst, but he just had to blow off some steam somehow - Whether it was through throwing around his garments, or punching a hole in the nearest wall didn't matter. A man could only take so much before the oppression, the fear, the pain, the betrayal - Before all the vices of the world got to him. His heart was pounding like a bull trying to bash it's way right of his chest, and the anger felt like fire in his abdomen, teasing him with the promise of release through his roaring, yet it would not leave him alone.<br><br>When Michael's tantrum finally came to a panting halt, he started realizing what had happened around him. Kyrie had run off - Not out of the apartment, but to the nearest safe spot it seemed. Had he scared him off? Or had he snapped as well? <br>He reached up to wipe sweat from his brow as he stared up at the ceiling. He sighed to himself, anger replaced with the sour taste of a bad conscience.<br>"Just a kid.."<br>He muttered to himself, turning his thoughts to his guest. He could hear him now, however feint it was through the bathroom door and the hallway. <br>"Just a kid, damnit."<br><br>His knocking on the bathroom door was gentle. A gardening glove now covered his hand as he stood in front of the door. Even though he had heard the lock being put in place, he still gave the handle a try, just to be sure.<br>He leaned up against the door from the other side, cursing himself silently.<br>"Kyrie, I'm sorry."<br>He muttered, his voice calm and careful. The last thing he needed right now was for Kyrie to outright fear him.<br>"I shouldn't have.. Oh, hell.. Look, if you want to talk, we can talk. I'll be in the living room, just take your time."<br>He offered, before he left the bathroom door behind, to go and sit down on his couch with a sigh. Why was he even trying to make amends? Well, part of him just wanted to believe that Kyrie wasn't a bad person, and that his first-hand impression could still hold true, and that they might find some common ground. Part of him wanted a friend more than anything. No, he didn't <em>want</em> a friend, he needed a friend. His sanity was hanging in a thread as it was.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 00:28:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Deep breathing eventually gave way to hyperventilating. Kyrie had only been in Arcadia for six weeks, and all that time he had done his best to keep it together. He had always worried that the moment he let his guard down, someone would find him and take advantage of it. This wasn't a place for the weak. The strong survived and fed on the weak.<br><br>But as Kyrie sat on the floor, threading his fingers into his hair and pulling at the roots, he felt very weak. Very vulnerable. Every single fear he had about living in this place came crashing down on him all at once. He thought of the life he had before and how he would never realize any of his childhood dreams. He thought of the family he would never see again. Then he thought of being locked up in a madhouse full of the strange and the unusual, and he had to vent it somehow. In this case, he did so through tears.<br><br>Then came a knock at the door. Kyrie jumped, fearful, and pressed his entire weight against the door. He wanted to tell Michael to go away, but the words wouldn't come out. Maybe it was better that way, because only a few moments after, the man expressed regret for lashing out as he had. At that, Kyrie's breathing slowed and he glanced up, hopeful. Fortunately Michael knew well enough to leave him alone for a while, which Kyrie needed. He was safe in the bathroom. No one would barge in and hurt him there. He hadn't felt safe in so long...<br><br>It took roughly an hour for Kyrie to emerge again. When he did, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair a mess, but he was still in one piece. Miraculously. Taking in a deep breath, he found his way back into the living room, arms crossed over his chest as a defensive measure as he approached the couch. He kept a good few paces between them, but his eyes were locked on Michael as he finally found it in him to speak, his voice slightly hoarse from his panic attack.<br><br>"... What are you?" he asked at last, indicating Michael's concealed hand. "Why do you look like that?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 01:22:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael simply just sat there, lost in thought as he did so. He didn't need anything more than this fine mess to keep him 'entertained' for the time being. Oh what had he gotten himself into? What was he going to tell Kyrie when he finally came out, should he decide to do so. It wouldn't come as a surprise if he should decide to just bolt right then and there, once he had gathered himself out there, and Michael wouldn't stop him - It seemed he had done enough already.<br><br>Yet as he emerged, he perked up, his eyes following him as he entered the living room. He was calm, and so was his gaze, as he did his best to look less like a prowling beast, and more like a sane person. Then came the inevitable question that he was to expect. He sighed, turning his eyes away and moving to the far end of the couch, as if he was offering Kyrie the chance to sit down, but promising to keep his distance.<br>"I suppose you aren't going to buy it if I told you that it's just some disease?"<br>He asked rhetorically, letting out yet another one of his sarcastic chuckles, but this one being directed at himself rather than Kyrie.<br><br>"No, why would you. The official term in the documents was 'Homo Caudata'. That's what I am I guess."<br>He sighed. He hadn't ever had to explain this to anyone, and when he had first learned of this secret himself he had had a very hard time believing, and much less understanding it. How do you explain to someone that you're 'technically' not actually human? <br>"Ever since the war the government has been working on all sorts of shady stuff. You know, mind control, subliminal messaging - All that stuff. Apparently I was part of an experiment meant to mix human and salamander DNA, in order to breed soldiers with the ability to regenerate lost limbs, and recover from extreme physical trauma."<br>He sounded more and more like a scholar as he went on, yet there was this feint glimmer in his eyes, like he actually found it all amusing in a strange way.<br><br>He pulled the glove from his hand again, slowly this time, before holding up his hand for Kyrie to see, turning it, showing it's scaly glory to him.<br>"I.. Had an accident, about.. Twenty'ish years ago now. I lost just about half of my body. Now, don't take this the wrong way.."<br>He got up out of the couch, and he pulled his sweater over his head. Underneath, a black t-shirt covered his toned body - Michael had obviously been keeping in shape. This became even more obvious as the T-shirt also went. He unbuckled his belt, and moments later he dropped his jeans as well. He turned for Kyrie, letting him get a proper look as he stood only dressed in his boxers. From the neck and downwards, it seemed that it was not just his hand - His entire right side was a copy of his left, yet rather than skin, it was scales. The same dark green scales.<br>"See? It all grew back, on it's own. Just.. Not in the way intended."<br>He said, pulling his jeans back up and buckling the belt. It had been getting rather hot in the sweater and glove, and as such he decided to leave the shirt on the floor. Hell, it was his home after all. He then looked him over again, a curious glimmer in his eyes.<br>"How old are you, Kyrie?"<br>He asked calmly. It had been about a decade since the last time 'The Lizard' had been spotted in public, fighting crime and what not. If Kyrie wasn't from overseas, he might have heard of him, yet he still pondered whether or not to keep his 'secret identity' to himself. Not that it mattered anymore.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 01:38:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Michael made room for him on the couch, Kyrie made a point of continuing to stand, not wanting to get terribly close. Not just yet. He simply couldn't bring himself to trust Michael, and it had very little to do with his outburst - or even his appearance. It was a simple lack of faith in people in general, whether they had skin or scales. Although the scales had been a surprise.<br><br>Even more surprising were the details of how they had come to be. For a while, Kyrie didn't believe it, but he couldn't exactly deny the evidence staring him straight in the face. Evidence that only became more damning when Michael stood to take off his clothes, showing Kyrie the extent of the damage. Stunned at what his eyes beheld, the younger man finally sank down into the couch, dark eyes wide as he surveyed all that his body had managed to regenerate.<br><br>"Nearly half your body..." Kyrie blinked slowly and sat back, reaching up to draw a hand back through his long, slightly tangled mane. It occurred to him then that he and Michael weren't so different. Michael's uniqueness came from a government experiment, but all the same... maybe showing him what he could do wouldn't be so terrible. Maybe he could be trusted. Maybe.<br><br>"What? I'm twenty. Why?" He didn't understand why the question had anything to do with the topic of conversation, but after all that Michael had divulged, it didn't seem fair to withhold the answer to one small question.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 02:42:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Twenty.."<br>Michael pondered the number for a moment, and then tried to recall the exact amount of years he had been locked up now. Yeah, roughly a decade - So in Kyrie's childhood he might actually have known about him. Perhaps he even had some of the merchandise being made back then - Oh the T-shirts and the action figures, even a cartoon on morning television. Funny, how one could fall from grace.<br>"Come, I want to show you something."<br>He then said, his voice taking on a somewhat serious aspect again as he got up out of the couch and walked towards the bedroom. He fished a key out of his pocket, and unlocked the door.<br><br>The bedroom itself was nothing much to speak of - He had his old bed, a wardrobe and yet another bookshelf. It seemed he had always been living under fairly simple conditions. The only thing that seemed out of place was the rather large metal cabinet, spots of rust starting to grow here and there, held locked by an old padlock. <br>Michael walked up to it and grabbed it. it seemed to have been in place for quite a while, as the key didn't immediately seem to fit, yet he managed to get it open. With creaking doors, the cabinet was then pulled open.<br><br>"Do you.. Recognize <em>him</em>?"<br>He asked, stepping back to let Kyrie have a look inside the cabinet, and to find out what this great secret of his was. Inside was all sorts of things - Even what seemed to be a shotgun! Yet a crate of bullets revealed that it was and anti-riot gun, each of the slugs containing rubber balls rather than pellets. Stun guns and batons. A wide range of tools, but what really grabbed ones attention was probably the rather imposing suit, and the helmet staring at the two of them with it's empty eye holes.<br>Dark green, plates of metal and mesh. Every here and there one could see dents and bumps, some obviously from bullets. On the right side of the chest, the logo, the foot and claws of a lizard. Yes, Michael was showing his deepest, darkest secret to someone for the first time, and he didn't know why. Perhaps this would help him move on? Perhaps.. Perhaps he was just going crazy at long last. Who knew.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 03:04:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie was hesitant, but not nearly as fearful as he had been a short while ago when he had witnessed Michael's rage. As such, when the man indicated for him to follow, Kyrie got up only a moment later, falling into step behind him as they headed into the back bedroom. He supposed he should have had his reservations going in there, especially after he had offered himself to Michael on a silver platter, but he knew that wasn't why he had been invited in.<br><br>The sight of the cabinet was something indeed, prompting Kyrie's brow to furrow as he waited for Michael to open it. But once those doors swung outward, he understood. There, standing before him, was a rather familiar sight. One that he remembered seeing on the news as a child. It was the face of a vigilante who had protected the city, surveying the streets and keeping the criminals at bay. Indeed, he now knew exactly who Michael was.<br><br>Slightly overwhelmed by the revelation, Kyrie stepped back, directing his gaze up at Michael, disbelief written all over his face. "... You're the Lizard," he said at last. Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, crime had run rampant in Kyrie's neighborhood, and the Lizard had been the only thing in the world to make Kyrie feel safe. Then, one day, he had vanished. No one had ever discovered why, but the realization hit the younger man fairly hard only moments after learning Michael's identity.<br><br>"You disappeared," he murmured thoughtfully. "One day, you were just... gone. You came here... didn't you? They sent you here. Why?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 03:32:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael donned an odd grimace as he was recognized, and Kyrie named his.. Well, his other name. It felt strange, having shown this to someone. If anything it was just yet another weapon that Kyrie could use against him, should he so decide. With the amount of people locked up because of Michael, and the amount of them in this place alone, having his identity made public would no doubt get him targeted by just about every individual in here.<br><br>He sat down on his bed with a soft bump, and the sound of old springs, staring up at the ceiling as Kyrie asked where he had gone. Well, it was obvious where he had gone - Rather he asked why. <br>"Well, I fought crime. I found out about a rather large root-organization that were dealing in just about every kind of crime you can imagine. Hits, drugs, money laundering. I tracked them for years, and when I finally got my hands on one of their heads, it turned out to be the same guy signing <em>my</em> check every month."<br>He sighed deeply, shaking his head. Of course he had been employed by the state, it was madness to imagine that he could have made a living fighting crime alone without being a criminal himself one way or another. And vigilantism didn't exactly leave much time for a day job.<br><br>"I uncovered some secrets the government would rather have I didn't know about, so they sent me to the only place where the knowledge couldn't do any damage."<br>He said, shrugging. Yes, the things he knew about meant nothing in here, since there were only other criminals to tell them to. Like Kyrie. Telling Kyrie about this didn't matter in the slightest, since he had the same tools to spread the word as he did himself - Absolutely none.<br>"There you have it. I did my job a bit too well, and my reward was to be thrown into the inner circle of hell, along with every single bastard that I caught."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>24-03-2014, 04:03:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Michael divulged the details of his imprisonment, Kyrie crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, his gaze softening in the slightest when he came to realize that the other man was innocent of whatever crimes they had pinned on him. That, more than anything, made him sympathetic to his plight. It seemed like a damn travesty, losing the best hero the city ever had because he had learned too much.<br><br>"It figures," he sighed, sliding back against the entry way until he could sit on the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but he didn't have it in him to stand any longer. "Somehow I'm not surprised that's how you ended up here. The place was rotten to its core anyway..." But it had still been his home once. He missed it. Hell, anywhere was better than here.<br><br>Michael had offered intimate details about himself. It made Kyrie feel nearly guilty for not being completely honest with him. And so, after chewing on his lip for a few moments, he mustered all the energy he could to phase himself out of the doorway. In a blink, Kyrie's slim figure was gone, leaving not a trace behind, and manifesting in the opposite corner of the room. Chances were he wouldn't be able to do it again until after he had gotten a good bit of sleep, but he wanted to show Michael what he was capable of.<br><br>"I didn't kill anyone," Kyrie told him. Once he had Michael's attention at his new location, his skin color shifted, taking on the darker tones of the shadows enveloping that part of the bedroom - until his flesh was nearly pitch black. The only thing he couldn't change was the color of his eyes, but they were dark enough to blend in.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>25-03-2014, 01:32:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael watched as Kyrie slid down the frame of the door, until he eventually touched down on the floor to rest. An odd place to sit indeed, but he could understand if he wanted to keep his distance from the obviously mutated shirtless man sitting in the room with him. At least Michael was under the impression that he was the only freak of nature in this apartment, little did he know that he was about to have that belief shattered quite brutally as Kyrie simply.. Vanished?<br><br>Michael frowned in confusion as he stared at the place where he had just been. He had been there, right? He brought up a hand to rub his forehead as he thought things through, trying to figure whether or not to believe his eyes.<br>"What.. How?"<br>He mumbled, astonished. The only way he could make sense of it in those moments of silence after it had happened was that he had, as of tonight, officially lost it. That was it, it had to be. He had lost all touch with reality, and dreamed up some young man to have some company, in order to stand the solitude of his existence in this place. Well, good bye sanity.<br><br>Then he heard Kyrie's voice ring out somewhere behind him, and he spun his head around, looking absolutely lost as he stared at Kyrie - Or rather, what he could only guess was Kyrie, before he once again all but vanished before him. He got up out of the bed in a sudden move, and stepped towards his camouflaged guest.<br>"How did you..? What is this?"<br>He asked, his voice quite inquisitive and dazzled as he reached out towards him for a moment, his scaly fingers coming close, before he realized it and pulled his hand to him again, figuring that he better not break into Kyrie's personal sphere and start groping him. (Well, the fact that he couldn't make out just what he would be touching wouldn't really help.)<br><br>"I guess you've given me the benefit of the doubt, so it would be wrong of me not to do the same."<br>He said, taking a step back, watching in awe and curious wonder as Kyrie seemed to have all but vanished. It really took quite some doing to just keep an eye on him where he was standing. Brilliant it was indeed, and somehow it strengthened Michael's urge to trust him, to believe that he wasn't a murderer, and that he could be a friend after all. If nothing else, they were both out of the ordinary. And at the same time, with such abilities, why would he have been a killer anyways? Nor did he fit the profile, and Michael had seen his fair share of the worst society had to offer - Kyrie seemed better than them.<br>"Now, would it be wrong of me to ask.. What the hell are <em>you</em>?"<br>He then asked, cocking his head curiously, hands resting on his hips. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>25-03-2014, 03:52:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie was terrified of showing his abilities to Michael. It left him vulnerable to any number of things, should Michael decide to turn against him. Such a situation didn't seem likely anymore, though, now that Kyrie knew who he was, or at least who he had been. It made him slightly more inclined to trust the man, and more than anything else, that was what he needed. If only so he didn't wind up like so many newcomers to the prison - dead or worse.<br><br>Perhaps it was because of this newfound common ground, their uniqueness, that Kyrie didn't shy away when Michael reached out to touch him. He almost wished that his scaled fingers had made contact, if only because it would have been the first bit of kind contact he had experienced in ages, but the man stopped himself and drew back, presumably to respect his personal space. At least he was nice enough not to touch him without permission... even if it would have been nice.<br><br>All the same, Michael posed a question to which Kyrie had no answer. Accordingly, the younger man pursed his lips and glanced away, the dark pigments of his skin fading away until his body once more reclaimed its fair hue. "I don't know if there's a word for what I am," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and awkwardly rubbing his hands over his shoulders. "I don't know why I'm like this. It's always just... been part of me. For as long as I can remember."<br><br>It had served as a means of defending himself whenever he needed it. Jimmy, his lover from the outside, had known and taken advantage of it. What better way to break into a house than to have someone simply <em>appear</em> on the other side of a locked door?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>25-03-2014, 05:14:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael nodded, again sitting down on his bed with the soft squeaking of the springs. Curiously he kept his eyes on Kyrie as he slowly faded back into his more familiar form, beginning to look like himself again, rather than a shadow in the corner.<br>"I must say, that's.. Well, amazing."<br>He said, his eyes displaying his genuine awe and respect of this young mans gift, or whatever it was. So, they were both freaks - Quite the coincidence that they should run into each other like this, in this of all places.<br><br>"Well, I guess that out of all the freaks either one of us could have run into, we got rather lucky."<br>He chuckled, stretching his back wearily, before he laid back on his bed, staring up into the ceiling. What a day it had been indeed. Kyrie certainly was quite something - Not only did he turn out to apparently be sane and have his wits about him, he had now shown to be quite interesting from a purely scientific perspective as well.<br>Michael peered over at the window, curtains drawn back to reveal the starry night sky. Judging from the glimmer of white on nearby rooftops, it seemed to be freezing. <br><br>"It's getting rather late I think."<br>He then said, turning his head to look at Kyrie.<br>"I don't know about you, but I'm quite spent."<br>He said, trying to, in a very kind and somewhat social way, tell Kyrie that he'd rather like some sleep. Then he seemed to remember something as he sat up. He took the duvet from his bed, and offered it to the young man.<br>"Here, the heating system isn't working, so it can get a bit chilly. I don't use this anyway."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>25-03-2014, 06:05:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie's countenance lifted in the slightest when Michael marveled at his ability, lifting his eyes to gaze up at him with surprise. "... Really?" No one had ever reacted so positively to it. Even Jimmy had been freaked out by it at first, enough to shove him into a wall and demand to be left alone - at least until the ability proved useful. That Michael thought it amazing was... amazing.<br><br>Regardless, it seemed that the man was eager to call it a night. Kyrie couldn't blame him. As such, he nodded without complaint, pulling himself up to his feet and stretching his arms up over his head. "Yeah. Me too. I'll just..." He padded toward the door, getting ready to close it behind him, only to pause and look back when Michael offered him a blanket. It took him a moment before he let out a hand to take it, managing something just short of an actual smile as he pulled the thick fabric to him.<br><br>"Thanks. For everything." Turning, Kyrie headed back into the hall, closing Michael's bedroom door to give him some privacy and meandering back into the living room. Exhausted and mentally drained as he was, he had just enough strength left in him to pull his backpack up onto the couch, rummaging through it for a sweatshirt he could ball up into a makeshift pillow. Tucking that beneath his head, he settled down on the couch with a yawn, spreading the blanket over himself and settling in to rest.<br><br>It barely took him two minutes to nod off, oblivious to the chaos just outside the living room window. That night, Kyrie slept better than he had in months.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 03:30:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For Michael, rest did not come quite so easily. He laid back with a deep sigh, closing his eyes as Kyrie left the room, kindly closing the door behind him, isolating him from the surrounding world. What a day it had been, now that he had time to recap it all. His eyes opened slowly and scanned the dimly lit room, coming to rest on his open cabinet and the suit inside it. He lifted himself out of the bed and walked over there. He peered into the empty eye holes of the headpiece for a while, like he was expecting the suit to indulge him in some kind of communication.<br>He was communicating with this part of himself now, although it was all taking place in his inner monologue, rather than the spoken word. Undeniably, this was part of him, part of his identity. Like his scales, it would never leave him alone, it would always be there, looming at the back of his mind and in his memories. He reached out, scaly fingers caressing the chest piece, stroking the logo that had once decorated him every night of the week. Gosh, the memories that were locked away in this cabinet, along with his suit. He shook his head, before he closed the cabinet doors shut, and put the padlock back in place, stuffing the key away in the pocket of his jeans, which were then soon dropped to the floor, before he went back to his bed. <br>He spent probably another hour or two thinking. Not about anything in particular, just.. Everything, really. Kyrie was quite a character, and he did pop up in his minds eye several times. <br><br>He opened the door to his bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom, to relieve himself and wash up. He was careful not to wake Kyrie, a strange grin on his face as he watched the sleeping boy on his couch. It looked like he might sleep through the building getting demolished - And he only looked even cuter, cuddled up under the duvet.<br>A quick bath, and he headed out into the kitchen, again praising how stealth was definitely one of his specialties. Rummaging through cupboards he found an old, but unopened pack of cornflakes - Thank heavens for vacuum packaging. These things would be edible after half a century thanks to it.<br><br>At last he emerged into the living room, and his voice boomed as he put two bowls on the table, and a pitcher full of water.<br>"Rise and shine."<br>He called, enjoying the odd feeling of having someone to talk to, even if that person was only just barely conscious. He was actually starting to somewhat enjoy having a bit of company, it was doing wonders for his sanity level at least.<br>"Breakfast is on the table. You'll have to take it with water though."<br>He chuckled, serving himself a bowl of cornflakes and water. Not a delicacy, but it was a decent and filling meal. And it was probably preferable to a bunch of beans in the morning. Michael was sitting in his boxers, spoon clutched in his scaly hand and his short hair still moist. His scales looked shinier than last night, thanks to the bath.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 03:47:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie didn't so much as budge during the night, at this point unbothered by the gunshots and other sounds of mayhem outside. Completely drained from the night he had had, and all the nights that had taken place prior, he desperately needed the sleep. Otherwise, his body might have crashed and had a hard time recovering.<br><br>As such, when finally Michael decided to wake him, it took Kyrie a few moments longer to come back to his senses. At first he was confused, unsure of who was talking to him or where he was. Then his eyes opened, blinking slowly to adjust to the light, and as his vision came back into focus, he started slightly as he spotted Michael sitting near him. Then he remembered.<br><br>Taking in a deep breath and yawning soon after, Kyrie slowly pushed himself up, groaning as the bruises on his chest ached in protest. He hurt, but it would heal. And in the meantime, he was just happy to see food on the table. It wasn't much, but it was more than he had most mornings. And so, with a grateful muttering of "thank you," he sat upright to take his bowl, pouring in a bit of water and bringing spoonful after spoonful to his mouth. He wasn't exactly a delicate eater.<br><br>Reaching up to rub at his eyes, still tired beyond measure, the young man looked to Michael with some fondness and appreciation. His eyes fell to his bowl soon after, however, as he sat back to focus on his food. "I'll head out after breakfast," he said. He had been offered a couch for one night, and Kyrie was not about to overstay his welcome - no matter how desperately he wanted to stay.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 03:59:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael ate quietly, yet Kyrie's look of appreciation was not entirely lost on his otherwise somewhat expressionless facade. It would still take a bit of time for him to really shed his barriers completely, but he was making progress towards feeling more like a person than a prisoner once more, and that was really rather nice. Yet as Kyrie spoke of leaving, his brows lifted in surprise for a moment, and he cleared his throat, putting his spoon down. Oh, that was right, wasn't it? He had offered him just the nights stay, and even though Kyrie had almost lost it the night before with his confessions in regards to his crimes, he had managed to bridge that gap between them.<br><br>"And where would you go?"<br>Michael asked in a very sincere and serious way. He had nowhere to go, and he had no one to go to. If he went out now he would be off just as bad as he was the night before. He'd end up dead or worse, and it wasn't even a matter of 'if' but a matter of 'when'. There were fates worse than death to be had in here, especially for someone so pretty in an environment full of predators of all kinds. A sheep would have better odds in the midst of a pack of starving wolves than Kyrie had out on the streets.<br><br>"Look, I.. I'd really not mind if you stayed around."<br>He said, looking over at Kyrie. He wasn't really the best at emotions and all of that stuff, and lovers had been few and far between in his time, before his love life had come to an abrupt halt, following his accident, and the changes he went through.<br>"In fact, I would prefer it."<br>He admitted, a strange half-smile appearing on his face. He was trying his best to offer him a place to stay, and the safety that he desperately needed in here.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 04:27:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Of all the answers Kyrie could have foreseen, that wasn't one of them. He lifted his head, blinking slowly, his gaze betraying his surprise when Michael indicated that he wanted him to stay. He sounded sincere, and the smile on his face was nearly disarming. What was more, he clearly didn't want anything in return... A place to stay without strings attached. Kyrie almost wanted to ask if Michael was sure, but he didn't want him to rethink his decision.<br><br>"I'll pull my weight around here," he promised, a certain brightness returning to his eyes. "I'll cook, clean up, do the laundry... anything. Anything to make myself useful. I swear." Maybe he sounded desperate - and maybe he was. That last night on the couch had given him the best sleep he had had in so long, and he would've done anything to stay.<br><br>At that, something closer to a smile rose to Kyrie's face, comforted in the knowledge that he would have some semblance of security at his fingertips. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but it was more than he could have hoped for out there on his own. Overcome by gratitude, he even abandoned his bowl so that he could close the distance between them, leaning in just far enough to hug him.<br><br>It was only when he paused long enough to feel those slick, shiny scales pressing against his bare flesh that Kyrie realized what he was doing. His eyes went wide and, mortified, he drew back sharply and blushed a light shade of pink. "I, uh... I'm sorry, I just... Ah... thank you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 05:39:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael let out a soft chuckle as Kyrie promised him to basically do everything around the place in order to make himself worthwhile to keep around. Not that those weren't all enticing offers, but his company alone was really all that Michael felt like demanding from him. It was rather pleasing to know that he would be safe and sound, and that he would be around, relieving him of the agonizing loneliness he had been trapped in for so long.<br><br>Yet what he didn't quite expect was the sudden sight of him jumping at him. Michael tried to sort of.. Dodge? Yet he soon found that the back of the chair was in the way of his Matrix-Maneuver, and Kyrie was soon over him, his arms around him. Michael let out a rather surprised, odd sound, his arms sort of flailing helplessly behind Kyrie, not knowing whether to grab a hold of him or not. When he went back to his own seat, he wasn't the only one with a bit of refreshing redness to his cheeks, as Michael looked a little flustered, fidgeting a bit in his seat, clearing his throat.<br>"U-Uh i-it's okay, I'uh.. It was unexpected, that's all."<br>He mumbled, blinking a few times, wondering just what to do next. It had been a while since he had last had any sort of kind human-to-human contact, if 'a while' wasn't the understatement of the decade, but he had been caught pretty off-guard, and then.. Well, Kyrie was.. Kyrie! He shifted a bit close to the table, mostly to hide a most embarrassing stir in a very personal part of his body. Why had he thought boxers only was a good idea?<br><br>"I mean, it was nice and all.. Uh.."<br>The most prominent thought racing through his mind right now was something along the lines of 'Just shut up about it already!' and he decided on trying to do just that, grabbing his spoon and staring quite intensely at his breakfast as he devoured the last few soaked cornflakes. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 05:49:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Pursing his lips, Kyrie brought his bowl back into his hands, working on finishing the last few bites as though they might disappear before he had the chance to eat them. Now he just felt awkward. He certainly hadn't <em>meant</em> to hug Michael like that... but the prospect of keeping a roof over his head had made him ridiculously happy. More than that, he would be near someone strong enough to hopefully keep him out of trouble. That was invaluable.<br><br>"... Sorry," he offered at last, finishing up his breakfast and taking the bowl over to the kitchen sink, where he went about rinsing it clean. "I just... I mean... I haven't had a safe place to stay since I got here. The last place I had burned down. So I've just been wandering around, and... I'm just grateful, that's all." But damn, he deeply wished he hadn't crossed that line of personal boundaries. The last thing he needed was to make things awkward between them.<br><br>Once his bowl was clean, Kyrie's eyes darted about, trying to think of something he could do to make himself useful. To that end, he went to the plastic bag he had brought along, dragging it back to the kitchen and emptying its contents onto the counter. "I guess if I'm gonna be here for a while, I can put the rest of the food away. Should have enough for a while, right? I really don't want to have to go hunting for this stuff again..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 06:08:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael put down his spoon, having finished his meal, and now moving on to just feeling a bit bad about the way he had managed to react to the hug. Heavens above knew that it was nice to have someone friendly around, but.. Oh hell, it was in the past now anyway, but the way that Kyrie seemed embarrassed about it was a bit of a pain, because he really didn't want him to.<br>"It's okay, I mean.. It's nice to get something other than a punch for once."<br>He said, letting out a trying chuckle as he got up from his chair, having calmed himself. He walked out to join Kyrie in the kitchen, rinsing his bowl at the sink.<br><br>"Oh, yeah, I do believe we should be set for a while. But don't worry about it, I can take care of the gathering and such. Besides, there are other ways of getting what you need in here than hunting down food drops."<br>He said, hoping to reassure Kyrie a little that he wasn't going to be asked to go out there anytime soon. Of course he wouldn't want to - Who could? It was a harsh reality that waited out there, and even now, under the grey noon sky, sounds that seemed to come from a riot of sort could be heard in the distance.<br><br>Michael had found that most of the old stores had simply been locked up, and some of them had not been fully scavenged. Why others had not noticed this yet was a bit of a surprise ti him, but it was quite helpful, being able to gather canned goods and even some clothes and other creature comforts in relative peace. Not that he had really been worrying about such before, but for Kyrie's sake, he would like to make it as comfortable around here as he could.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 06:20:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				If Kyrie had his way, he would never step foot outside that apartment again. Of course he knew it was impractical. At some point he would have to leave, whether because Michael wanted him gone or because they were run out of the place - although he desperately hoped that neither would happen. From what he gathered, Michael was very comfortable there and had been for some time. The place was as much of a fortress as they could get. So maybe it was possible to live there...<br><br>"I'm glad for that," he admitted, taking Michael's empty bowl for him to finish washing it up. He intended to make good on his promise; he would take care of whatever domestic task needed doing. Even if it meant doing all of the man's dishes, making his bed, anything at all. Whatever kept him useful and guaranteed him a place to sleep at night, a place where he didn't have to fear for his life. That was all he wanted anymore. "I wasn't doing so good out there by myself... Don't think I'd have lasted much longer."<br><br>Pursing his lips together, he glanced down at himself, wrinkling his nose at the sorry state he was in. His body was clean, but his clothes left something to be desired. He would have to wash them soon. Water in the bathtub would be good enough. "At some point, though, I should try to find some clothes... I only have this and maybe two other things. A sweatshirt and a t-shirt." On the outside, his wardrobe had been very different. His lean frame and pretty face lent itself to other options - nicer things that hinted at either the androgynous or the feminine. But in here, he took what he could get. Which wasn't much.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 07:50:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was quite surprised to have his dish taken from him by Kyrie. Not that he was being rough with it or anything of the sort, but he was just not adjusted to the kind gestures just yet. Seemed they'd have to spend a bit of time getting used to one another before things would be completely peachy, but for now he was enjoying the company. And not having to do the dishes was sort of a plus he supposed, so no sins so far.<br>"Honestly, I don't think you'd have made it through last night."<br>He said, nodding towards the kitchen window, and how the view was spoiled by frost. It had been a cold, cold night, and if Michael hadn't come to his rescue, Kyrie would not only have had the cold to worry about, but also severe injuries, which wouldn't have pushed the odds in his favor.<br><br>"But never mind that, you're safe now. At least as safe as you're gonna get in here."<br>He chuckled, still peering out the window. No one was in sight. It seemed this part of time was almost as deserted as it had been back in the day, which suited him just fine. He honestly preferred it that way, not having madmen circling the building all day and all night.<br><br>"You know.. I could head out for a bit and try to scavenge something for you. There are some abandoned shops in town that haven't been plundered yet."<br>He said, turning himself around, leaning against the wall and watching Kyrie. He was growing ever more fond of doing just that, just.. Looking at him for a bit. Not that he was being a pig about it or anything, but he was the prettiest lad he had seen in a decade - Could anyone blame him?<br>"Just.. Tell me what you'd like."<br>He said, offering a friendly smile.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>26-03-2014, 19:43:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was probably right, Kyrie realized grimly. Had the man not intervened, sparing his life from the thugs and taking him in for the night, he might very well have been dead by now. Now that the cold had set in, it was especially treacherous out there on the streets. Not at all a place for Kyrie, whose talents only extended toward defense, rather than offense.<br><br>Perhaps that was why he decided that clinging to Michael was the best idea. Michael was taller, stronger, and clearly capable of defending him. Kyrie couldn't offer much in return, at least nothing that he was aware of, but the stealth on his side and the brawn on Michael's side seemed to make them a good pair. He wouldn't allow his mind to finish the thought, however. It wouldn't be wise to complicate things between them.<br><br>Fortunately, the man's next statement distracted him well enough that he didn't think about it much thereafter. After drying up the dishes and setting them back in their proper places, he looked up with a raised eyebrow, curious. It wasn't enough that Michael had saved him, given him food, and offered him a safe shelter - now he wanted to run errands for him? That was surprising.<br><br>"... Really? You'd do that for me?" It was sweet of Michael to want to take care of him. Kyrie didn't want to be a helpless bystander in all of this, but he wasn't going to turn down an offer like that. "Well... I could use some jeans. And some long-sleeved shirts now that it's getting cold out. And... uh... well, before I came here, I used to wear other things. Things with... skirts."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>27-03-2014, 01:28:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael looked at him calmly, seemingly starting to open up towards Kyrie, and becoming a slightly warmer person than the cold statue he had been most of the night before, following their initial meeting. He waved his hand in response to his comment about him wanting to do that for him. It was the least he could do. Now that he was here, he might as well try and make his stay as comfortable as he could. Now that they were locked away, they had to make the best of it after all, unless they should go and loose their mind entirely.<br><br>"So jeans and shirt and.. Uh, Skirts?"<br>He pondered it for a moment, looking thoroughly confused. What did he mean, like.. A kilt? Did he want him to find him a kilt? Now that was going to be quite tricky. Yet as he looked at Kyrie, he quite quickly got an idea of just what he meant with that.<br>"Oh! Oh, well.. Sure, I'll.. See what I can find."<br>He said, trying to seem as cool about it as he could. It was a bit of an odd request, and while Michael didn't particular mind it, since it was not his place to get involved with whatever Kyrie liked to do, he just.. Well, hadn't seen it coming.<br><br>He left the kitchen then, to go to his bedroom and get his jeans and socks, and a shirt. Then came his trench coat and his gloves, before a thought struck him, just as he was about to announce that he was leaving. He went back to the bedroom, and came out again moments later.<br>"Don't open the door for anyone, but <em>if</em> something goes wrong, you should have this."<br>He said, and went on to put a tazer on the living room table. Knowing how well Kyrie fared in a fist fight, he might need it. He hoped the batteries were still working, after all the time it had been stowed away in that cabinet.<br>"I'll be back soon."<br>He said, bidding him farewell before he headed for the door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>27-03-2014, 01:45:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie's preference in clothing didn't embarrass him anymore, not the way it had when he was younger. Nonetheless, it was something he could usually take care of on his own, and it felt a touch awkward to ask Michael to help him find those articles. Regardless, he realized that he probably wouldn't have another chance for a long while, so he wanted to take advantage of it while he could.<br><br>"Thanks." He offered the man a grateful smile, albeit a faint one, busying himself with putting away cans of food. It seemed only right to put all that he had into the cabinet, nearly as a show of good faith. Michael had gone out of his way for him; the least he could do was share his supplies, few as they were.<br><br>When the man returned, placing a small tazer on the table for him, Kyrie nodded in response. He understood. He wasn't in much shape to defend himself, that much was clear. "Alright," he murmured, suddenly appearing quite uneasy now that he was to be left on his own. "... Don't be long."<br><br>Then the door closed and Michael was gone, after which Kyrie sighed and reached up to rub at the side of his head, still aching from the punch he had received the night before. He had a few mild painkillers in his bag, but he quickly decided it was silly to waste them on something as light as a headache. He would manage.<br><br>In Michael's absence, the young man took to relaxing on the couch. Every little creak of the old building made him jump, however, and it wasn't long before he took the tazer into his hand, holding it tight - just in case. He hated being helpless. Hated the idea of standing useless on the sidelines while someone else defended him. Maybe it would be worth it to learn a few things, he decided. Maybe he could get Michael to teach him how to defend himself. Or at least how to do something besides hide...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>27-03-2014, 04:46:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was somewhat worried as he left Kyrie behind in the apartment. it was quite possibly one of the safest places to be in this god forsaken place, especially when Michael was around, but still. But he'd just have to be quick then. He headed through alleys and down streets until he came to an old clothes shop. It was shut down and locked up with it's metal curtains down and everything. No one had been in there yet it seemed. good.<br>Making his way inside, by kicking in the locked back door, he started looking around, and then started packing the backpack he brought with him. He had to guess what size Kyrie was, but he'd just have to hazard a guess by going with small and medium. A few T-shirts, some long-sleeve shirts and three pairs of jeans. Then the other request struck him, and prompted him to head into the women's department. Oh golly, what was he to go for?<br><br>It was about two hours before the lock clicked and the front door to his apartment opened once more and Michael came back inside. Unscathed, luckily. He had managed to not attract any unwanted attention.<br>"I'm back."<br>He called out, to reassure Kyrie that it was just him, and not some invader. He put his backpack down and took of his coat and his gloves, stretching his back as he enjoyed being back inside. It was freezing out there.<br><br>He headed into the living room and opened his backpack, and began pulling out the articles he had found, starting with the jeans, then the shirts, short and long sleeve, and then.<br>"Uhh.. Well, I didn't exactly know what you had in mind, so.."<br>He pulled out the first of Kyrie's requested feminine articles, a long black dress, an elegant design with a considerable cut, but still quite beautiful and stylish. Michael had absolutely nothing to go by, except what Kyrie might like, and what he thought he might look good in - Thoughts he had found himself struggling to let go afterwards.<br>Then came the second on, dark blue and shorter than the other, but still not vulgar.<br>"I hope it's along the right lines."<br>He said, reaching up to scratch his neck.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>27-03-2014, 04:58:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie fretted for the entirety of Michael's absence, unsurprising considering his lack of security when he was gone. When Michael was around, he knew he had someone with enough brute strength to protect him if need be. Without him, Kyrie was defenseless - save for a small tazer that may or may not have still held a charge.<br><br>As such, he was that much more grateful whe Michael returned. He did start a bit when he heard something inside the apartment, but at the sound of his voice he relaxed, visibly relieved at the sight of him. At this point, he had a bit of lunch on the stove. Not much, only a bit of canned meat, tomatoes, and vegetables fashioned into a sort of stew. He had decided it was the least he could do, given all that Michael had done - and was still doing - for him.<br><br>"I'm glad you're alright," he remarked, finding a place to sit on the arm of the couch while Michael removed the clothing from his bag. He wasn't at all disappointed in the clothes he had chosen, given the cold weather outside. Most surprising, however, was that he had chosen two lovely dresses for him. These Kyrie examined curiously, fingers running over the soft fabric, and a genuine smile lit up his countenance. He had very little left in the world; no personal items, nothing that reminded him of life as he had once knew it. Somehow, having a few pretty piece of clothing made him feel better. As though the life he had known hadn't completely vanished.<br><br>"They're beautiful," he said, flashing Michael a truly grateful expression. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."<br><br>Kyrie looked at ease for once, perhaps especially now that he wasn't completely alone. He wouldn't have dared to call himself happy, but he was certainly better off. Squeezing the other man's arm to show a bit of gratitude, he moved up off the couch, heading back into the kitchen to stir the contents of the small pot. "I made lunch. And dinner, I guess. There's enough for two meals here, we can just reheat it later."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>01-04-2014, 21:31:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael felt a sense of relief flood him as Kyrie praised the dresses he had picked out - He had to make due with what he could find, and he had never really had to take his pick of dresses before. He didn't wear them himself, which wasn't hard to imagine with his rather brawny figure. Nor had he ever had a partner who wore one, as he had never been with another man with quite as feminine a charm as Kyrie. Of course he hadn't been with anyone at all for what.. The last two decades, and twenty years ago, wearing dresses as a man was probably more frowned upon than it was today.<br><br>Yet he didn't mind though, and he was honestly rather curious to see Kyrie in them, a mental image that had served to keep him warm on his way home from his little expedition. <br>A pleased smile, with a hint of pride, spread across his face as he felt Kyrie's soft squeeze on his arm, taking a moment to just savor the kind contact with another human being for the time being.<br><br>"That sounds.. Great."<br>He said, a little surprised that Kyrie had been cooking while he had been out, sitting down on the couch as he headed into the kitchen, feeling a small burst of shame as his eyes rested on his hips for just a moment too long before he drew them away. Last thing he needed right now was to seem like the kind of pervert Kyrie might have thought he was last night, with his.. Well, <em>physical</em> offer for spending the night on the couch.<br>"It's so strange to not be alone."<br>He muttered, shaking his head slightly, raising his brows as he pulled his gloves off, stretching his fingers out before him. another side effect of his altered DNA was a slightly reduced body temperature, and he really didn't take well to the cold at all.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>01-04-2014, 23:42:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				For the first time in a long while, Kyrie was beginning to feel somewhat at ease again. True enough, he still jumped a mile high every time he heard the old building creak, and it would take him quite a while to fully trust the man with whom he now shared a roof, but... it was something. He had a safe place to stay, a warm spot to sleep at night, food to sate his hunger, and even the option of a hot shower every now and then. It was far more than he had dared to hope for after his imprisonment.<br><br>"You've been alone a long time, haven't you?" Kyrie asked, stirring the stew for a bit before finally taking it off the heat. He found two bowls and spoons for their lunch, pouring an equal serving for both and taking them both to the small table. "Since that happened to you?" Subtly, he indicated the scales on Michael's hand. "I can see why that would've made you more... isolated." In truth, the man's appearance didn't much bother him. The scales had scared him for a few seconds, but mostly due to Michael's outburst. But on its own, his appearance wasn't all that bad. Different - like Kyrie - but not bad.<br><br>Perching in the corner of the couch, taking a bite of the stew - which turned out to be fairly decent, for all canned products - Kyrie regarded Michael with some interest. Indeed, his looks weren't terrible. He had a handsome face, a strong build... He was the sort of man Kyrie had always looked for on the outside. He hated himself for thinking about it like that, but he couldn't help it. After being used by Jimmy for so long, then cast aside and thrown into a madhouse, Kyrie was lonely too.<br><br>"I won't go anywhere unless you ask me to." He nodded. "I may not be able to do much, but..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>02-04-2014, 23:41:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was nice that the tension between them was slowly fading - Or at least becoming less and less laden with negativism. It pleased Michael to be able to get somewhat comfortable in his home, even now that he had another person to share it with. But he really did have some ways to go to get used to Kyrie. They both had their reasons to be distrustful and distant to the other, and while Michael had no real reason to fear Kyrie, whereas he might find Michael's strength and.. Well, violent past, intimidating or imposing, Michael had to deal with having an individual around who depended on him for their safety. It wasn't very far fetched to say that Michael had probably not spared Kyrie a cruel fate for the last time. But then again, Kyrie's 'talents' might turn out to be just as suited for keeping the streets clean as his own, even if in a different way. <br><br>Michael heard him from the kitchen, the rather blunt question of whether or not he had been alone for a while or not. He pondered the question for the moment, until Kyrie emerged, and added in his.. Otherworldly features.<br>"Well.. I guess I didn't really feel up to snuff when it came to dating, no."<br>He replied, his gaze turning from Kyrie and down to the stew in front of him. It looked quite appetizing indeed! But that aside, Michael had lived much like some kind of hermit for many years now.<br>"And with my 'job'.. Well, I couldn't really fit a relationship in there, ignoring the risk of having my identity exposed. In my line of work, having anyone close to me just meant having yet another sore spot that I couldn't cover up with armor."<br>He sighed, starting on the lunch, eating it down with decent manners, taking his time to savor the taste and the warmth as it went down the pipe.<br><br>"I haven't had.. Anyone, really, for.. Roughly some twenty years by now I should think."<br>He chuckled, lifting his scaled hand to peer at it, as though he was consulting it. Half his life he had been like this now, and after he had gotten used to being what he was, he hadn't really been keeping a count of the amount of time that he'd been like this. The realization that it had been that long, half of the time spent imprisoned.. It was almost comical to him now. Oh how he had wasted his life.<br>Then his attention to turned to Kyrie, a somewhat surprised, curious expression on his face. What he was saying could be interpreted in many different ways, some obvious, some subtle.<br>"Look, I'm not expecting anything from you. I don't want you to think that you owe me anything. I'm willing to trust you, and I believe you when you say you're innocent - I've seen my fair share of killers, and you don't look like one."<br>He sighed, wondering where he was going with this statement. Part of him just wanted to make Kyrie feel more comfortable with his situation. He really didn't want him to think of himself a burden, nor did he want him to carry around some debt to him that he thought he had to pay.<br>"Whatever you choose to do is fine with me, and.. Well, just.. Having someone to talk to is more than I've been able to ask for, for a long time."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>03-04-2014, 00:02:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The thought that Michael hadn't been with anyone in that long made Kyrie's eyes widen, nearly in disbelief, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He had seen the extent of the damage when Michael had stripped down to his boxers, and it only dawned on him then that he had likely lost a bit more than just his right limbs. Had all of <em>that</em> grown back, too...?<br><br>The thought was mind-boggling, and yet it didn't take Kyrie's thoughts away from where they had drifted before. The man was still very good-looking, even with those scales. It wouldn't have been completely outside the realm of possibility to... <em>No.</em> It wasn't good to think about it that way. Things had just stopped being awkward. Why make it worse?<br><br>"Still, twenty years..." That was as long as Kyrie had been alive. Taking in a breath, he sighed lightly, shoveling a bit of food into his mouth. "I can't imagine. I mean, I got around a little bit, and I-" He stopped abruptly, hating that his tongue would run off without him and make him feel embarrassed all over again. "Ah... never mind. Uh... I really don't wanna make things weird, but... can I?" Illustratively, he let out a hand for Michael's. He wanted to feel those scales for himself.<br><br>"You've done a lot for me already," Kyrie told him, "So I'm really not in a position to ask you for anything, but I thought..." He pursed his lips, nervous to ask. "Could you... maybe teach me a little about self-defense? If someone breaks in here, or I have to go back out <em>there</em>, I don't wanna be helpless."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>03-04-2014, 00:49:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was probably for the best that Kyrie didn't give all of his current thoughts a voice, otherwise he might well have been in for the show of a lifetime. But then again, with his following, dangerously open-minded rant, it didn't exactly make things all that much less.. Well. Michael coughed briefly, banging his chest twice as some of the stew went down the wrong pipe at the comment that Kyrie almost managed to make. As he cleared his throat and saved himself from an untimely demise by choking, he didn't really know just what he was supposed to say, and the best he could come up with was a somewhat stumped:<br>"Eeh, yeah, well.."<br><br>He was pleased that the conversation carried on pretty quickly, taking a turn for the better, at least in Michael's opinion. He raised his brows quizzically as Kyrie asked if he 'ccould', taking a moment to figure out just what he meant. <br>"Oh. As long as you don't turn me into a handbag."<br>He replied, with a soft chuckle, lifting his hand and reaching out to Kyrie, offering him the chance to feel the smooth scales. Quite pleasant to the touch, as one would expect, even if a little more chilly than his regular skin.<br><br>His curiosity only went further as Kyrie continued on into his next request - Not that anything he had asked of him so far had been all that costly to Michael. Now, what he was asking really peaked his interest this time around. He had never really thought about doing anything of the sort, and it had been a long while since he himself had been taught what he new today.<br>"Well, I suppose I don't mind. It's probably for the best to be honest."<br>He replied, being quite open to the idea of giving Kyrie a course in self defense. He shifted his glance around the apartment, and the edge of his mouth drew up into a sort of ironic grin.<br>"And I guess it'll help kill a bit of time too."<br>He chuckled warmly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>03-04-2014, 01:05:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As he was given permission, Kyrie put his food aside and reached out for Michael's hand, cradling it in one palm while the opposing fingers moved over the scaly surface. It felt odd to the touch. Not bad, but certainly odd, and much smoother than he had expected. The consistency was much the same the farther up Michael's arm that he went, but he stopped himself before he went too far. Any higher past the elbow seemed too intimate, and so Kyrie let him go.<br><br>"It's something to do," he agreed, nodding once as he sat back and took his bowl back into his hands. "And, I mean, at least then I'd be slightly more capable of protecting myself. Even if I might want to," and he did, "I can't expect to hide behind you forever." He had come so close to dying out there. One more night, and that would've been it, of that Kyrie was acutely aware. Michael had offered him a second chance, and he didn't want to ruin it by slipping back into what was familiar. Hiding, struggling to get by...<br><br>Upon finishing his food, Kyrie asked, "Can we start tonight?" He seemed very excited to get the ball rolling. "I feel a lot better than yesterday, now that I've had some decent sleep. I could probably use the workout, anyway."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>04-04-2014, 00:00:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It would be a lie to say that Michael wasn't somewhat enjoying the feeling Kyrie's timid exploration of his scaly arm, but he decided to leave it at that, for many obvious reasons, the most prominent one being that he didn't want to make things any more awkward than they had to be either. It would be a great shame not to be able to look each other in the eye at this point, if they were supposed to try and nurture some kind of friendship between them. On a deeper plane, they probably both not just wanted, but needed each other at this point, to avoid the damages caused by complete and utter isolation, or the even more hazardous side effects of mingling with the wrong crowds in here.<br><br>It sort of make Michael feel a strange hint of pride that Kyrie would really have been content with looking to him for protection - A remnant of the pride that had once driven him into his old line of work. He used to be much more selfless than he felt these days - Perhaps Kyrie was a lifeline to a long-gone past?<br>"You look quite fit to me."<br>He chuckled with a pleasantly teasing smile at Kyrie's comment on him needing the workout. It was true, but the way he said it, it was obvious that he wasn't (at least not openly) flirting with him just yet.<br>"But sure, I don't mind."<br><br>The rest of the day was relatively uneventful. Michael explained the basics of some of the primitive contraptions he had set up around the apartment complex to avoid any uninvited guests coming in, and showed him the 'emergency' exit - An old garbage shoot that would carry him to the basement, where he would land in a container stuffed with old mattresses and pillows. (Assuming said container had not been moved or plundered.) <br>Other than that, Michael spent a good amount of time in his homemade mini-gym, brushing up on some of the basics that he might show Kyrie. He was getting increasingly excited about the idea by the minute it seemed, even going as far as to have Kyrie help him dust off and oil the old equipment.<br><br>Supper was pretty much just as delicious as dinner had been, and it wasn't more than some half an hour after the dishes had been done and their stomachs had settled that Michael finally stood up, taking off his reading glasses and putting down an old 'do-it-yourself' martial arts guide.<br>"So.. Ready to begin?"<br>He asked, moving into the next room, taking off the sweater he'd been wearing to display his upper body, just covered by a white tank-top tugged into his jeans. He was quite fond of the feeling of the rubber mats under his feet. He waited for Kyrie to join him, before his lips cracked in a smile that wanted out - This might actually end up being.. Well, fun!<br>"Come at me when you're ready. Give it your best shot."<br>He said, unable to contain his grin as he towered over the young man, striking a rather casual pose as he awaited Kyrie's onslaught.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>04-04-2014, 23:09:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie was shocked at just how easily he slid into spending time with Michael. It had been difficult at first, not to mention terribly awkward, but now that they had a goal to work toward, he felt worlds better. Michael was, thankfully, rather pleasant to be around, and Kyrie was grateful that he was so willing to teach him.<br><br>More than that, Michael talked him through all of the traps he had engineered throughout the building, ensuring that no one snuck up on them. Kyrie paid rapt attention, for all the obvious reasons. Most importantly though, it made him feel infinitely safer knowing they weren't just one wall away from certain danger. Not only that, but this was the system that had kept Michael safe for this long. He gathered he would sleep easier, just knowing that.<br><br>After dinner, and after taking care of the dishes, it was time to get started. Confident as he had been before, Kyrie was horrifically nervous when it finally came down to the actual training session. Michael had a good bit of both height and weight on him, which became even more glaringly obvious when he was expected to lunge at the man with all his strength.<br><br>"I, uh... I don't really know how to..." Kyrie had never been a fighter - but he knew that would have to change if he was going to survive. And so, gathering up all his nerve, he balled his fists and closed the distance between himself and Michael, taking his first swing. Admittedly, it was quite uncoordinated.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>05-04-2014, 01:20:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael couldn't contain his smile as Kyrie began talking about how he didn't know what on earth to do to him. It was pretty much what he had expected, and Kyrie's actions were <em>also</em> pretty much just what he had been expecting. It was as basic as a fight in the schoolyard, running at him with a fist like that. Michael put his hands behind his back, if just to show off, and sidestepped him without much trouble, doing a soft low-kick to Kyrie's ankle to send him tumbling on to the softened floor.<br><br>"Rule number one: Never start a fight."<br>He chuckled. Yeah, it was a little unfair, but at least they'd gotten the bag opened up now, and the more serious training could begin. Michael courtly reached down to pull Kyrie back on his feet though, finally wiping his silly grin off his face, clearing his throat and growing more serious.<br>"One thing you need to remember at all times is that you're a light-weight. You would never be able to take anyone my size down with your fists, so you're going to have to rely on brains and speed."<br>It was all true, Kyrie would most likely never be able to throw a punch that could truly hurt anyone far bigger than himself, unless he was lucky enough to hit a particularly sore spot.<br><br>"But with that being said, if you <em>do</em> want to hit someone, don't clench your fist. Strike with the palm of your hand, like this."<br>Michael went on to display his open, scaly hand, tapping the root of palm, and then striking a nearby sandbag with a surprising amount of force.<br>"Clenching your fists is only going to hurt you more than your opponent. The force should be let out through the wrist, not the fingers."<br><br>Michael got into some great detail about the basics of effective and proper physical fighting, and taught Kyrie the most common ways to gain an advantage against someone bigger than himself. He went into great depth explaining how elbow-jabs worked, and how it amplified the force of a strike. How to always bend the elbow, and never hit with a straight arm. He showed where on the body to aim, and why he should never look and adversary in the eyes, since he'd just end up distracting himself, and not spot an incoming low attack like a kick, knee or an uppercut. They spent about an hour covering these things, only for Michael to again round it off with a warning that Kyrie should never rely on these tactics if he had other options available, since it would take away any and all advantage he might have. He really tried to do as little hands-on as he could, but more often than not, he ended up finding that he had to show Kyrie how these things worked in a far more physical manner.<br><br>"You want to take on a proper stance. Here, let me show you."<br>He walked behind him, and only now realized the implications of what he was going to do. It was all in the name of the greater good, right? He really didn't want Kyrie to think that he had some kind of perverted investment hidden within this lesson, but as he leaned up against him from behind, bending his knees into his to show him how he was supposed to stand, a hand on his stomach, gently pressing him back against him to show how his back should curve, he couldn't help but feel Kyrie's rump press.. Well, against a most unfortunate part of him. If even Kyrie had had any doubts about it, he might notice that there was most <em>definitely</em> something there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>05-04-2014, 01:40:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie wasn't off to a very good start. Only one attempt in and Michael took him down to the floor with little effort. Slightly stunned, yet not altogether surprised, he groaned and climbed back up onto his feet, ready to go again. He might not have had strength, but he had the drive to keep going. Survival mattered before all else in that place, and he was determined to at least have enough skills to go down with a fight.<br><br>They spent the next hour going over the basics. Michael showed him a few basic moves, teaching him where to hit and how to position his arms for the best effect. Kyrie definitely didn't have much upper body strength, that much was painfully obvious. His legs, however, were strong enough to kick and disarm, so he didn't feel entirely useless.<br><br>One thing he took from the lesson was how he could use his ability to phase in and out of position in a fight. He did so by accident, when an onslaught overwhelmed him and, panicked, he did the only thing he did know how to do - put himself elsewhere. This he used to his advantage as Michael's teachings went on, determined not to overuse it, but not about to neglect it either.<br><br>By the time they took even a bit of a breath, Kyrie was panting, exhausted from the effort. Brushing his long hair out of his face, he blinked, curious, as Michael moved off behind him to show him a better stance. It seemed innocent enough, but as the man's hand pushed him back until Kyrie's back was flush with his front, he couldn't help thinking of it as less so. It had less to do with Michael's actions, however, and more to do with the fact that he could feel the man's lower body against him.<br><br>The sensation alone made him blush. Instinctively, he wanted to phase elsewhere - absolutely anywhere else - but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he leaned back a little, trying to mimic the stance Michael showed him. "Like... like that?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 01:38:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was feeling more awkward by the second as he huddled up against Kyrie from behind. He really had to do his best to keep convincing himself that this was all strictly in the good name of helping out his newly found friend. But then again, the man had not had any physical relations for about as long as Kyrie had even existed, so could anyone really blame him for being just a little pent up - Just a little susceptible to temptation?<br><br>"Uh.. Yes, like that. Relax your thighs, or you'll not be able to react quick enough."<br>He really did do his best to sound confident and not give any ideas of bad intentions behind all of this as his hand briefly pressed on kyrie's thigh, adjusting his position. He was a fast learner, that much as clear to Michael by now. Whether it was a natural affinity for martial arts, his apparent flexibility, or perhaps just the desire to be able to defend himself that drove him was still left unknown.<br><br>"Now remember, never clench your fists."<br>He muttered again, his hands running along Kyrie's arms, making sure they were in the right place and position. Yes, he was displaying some rather impressive poise<br>"You're doing quite well."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 02:19:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie's first instinct when he felt a hand on his thigh was to phase away. Unsurprisingly,&nbsp; given his looks, he was a sitting duck in a place like the prison, and he had narrowly escaped sexual assault a few times in the first week alone. As such, he nearly panicked in those first few moments.<br><br>He soon settled, however, when he reminded himself that it was only Michael. And if he was completely honest with himself... he was rather enjoying the attention. It had been a while for him, albeit not nearly as long as the other man. Kyrie hated himself for letting his mind go in that direction, but it seemed that he needed the contact just as much as Michael needed the company.<br><br>Mulling the thought over for a few moments, Kyrie eventually shifted his stance, turning to face the man. Lifting his arms up a bit, he flattened his palms over Michael's chest, silently marveling at how different each side felt beneath his fingers - one firmer and cooler with scales, one softer and warmer with skin - even beneath the shirt he wore.<br><br>"I can think of something I'm better at."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 03:50:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael was pleased that Kyrie wasn't acting up - Perhaps he didn't feel anywhere near as awkward about this as Michael did. Perhaps someone less pent up might not instantly let his thoughts wander into the gutter, and think off all sorts of lewd acts. However, it seemed that he was quite wrong in that respect. <br>He was caught off guard to say the least when Kyrie turned around before him, feeling those delicate hands on his chest through his tank top. He didn't quite register it at first, like Kyrie was suddenly talking some kind of foreign language that he had trouble deciphering.<br><br>His words were as tempting as the purr of a cat, inviting to all sorts of depravity as he stood there. Michael was caught in between his desires and his morale.<br>"Kyrie, are you.. Sure you know what you're doing?"<br>He asked, peering at him with a great curiosity, yet it seemed that his body was acting on it's own accord. While he looked into his eyes, his hands moved to rest on Kyrie's hips. It sent a shiver down his spine to feel his waist, and god knew he wanted more of this, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was all but taking advantage of the man before him. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 05:19:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After getting up the nerve to act on his impulses, Kyrie began to feel a bit unsure. Maybe he had been wrong to want this. Michael had already brushed him off before, so maybe he should have taken a hint. Hell, maybe he just wasn't the man's type. He had no way of knowing if Michael even liked men, although enough time spent in prison was enough to make anyone desperate.<br><br>The uncertainty showed on his face, and Kyrie instantly wished he could have taken his words back. The hands on his hips, though, told him that he hadn't been entirely wrong. That barely settled the butterflies in his stomach and, accordingly, he pursed his lips and glanced down, trying his best not to look up at him as he shuffled closer, until their fronts were flush.<br><br>"... Yeah," he replied at last, twisting his fingers into Michael's thin tank top. "I mean, I would've last night, but- ... What I mean is that... Ah, fuck." He shook his head, pressing his forehead against the man's chest. "It's not because you took me in. That's not why. Right now I just... I need <em>something</em>..." Something that wasn't violence. Something that wasn't the struggle, the trauma, or the danger outside those walls.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 06:36:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was really nothing else for it but admitting that Kyrie had a point. It was reassuring, both seeing and feeling how sincere he was. Having someone near you be absolutely genuine was really refreshing, after all the years he had spent around people who lied and cheated for a living. There was no way Kyrie wasn't being honest right now, and as his hands clutched the fabric of his chest, and he pushed himself against what seemed to be a pillar of a man compared to his own elegant frame, Michael felt how vulnerable he truly was right now. How vulnerable both of them were. Like a clam being pried open, his friendship with Kyrie was a soft spot that could be used and abused by anyone who knew of it, and Kyrie was seemingly still not quite over the initial shock that this place had a way of inducing into ones system. The loneliness and isolation seemed to wear him down, and now that he was like this in front of him, there was no doubt in his mind that he really needed something to hold on to.<br><br>Their eye contact was broken as Kyrie nestled against him, and his hands on his hips held him more firmly, as though trying to communicate that it was okay, that he wasn't about to brush him off like he had the night before, albeit the circumstances and motivations had been really quite different when he made his first flirtatious move.<br><br>It took him an extended moment, a silent pause - He needed the mental space to think properly right now. He was bewildered and confused, and yet convinced that he knew what had to be done. For both their sakes really. Then a hand left his hip to tangle itself in his exquisite mane of hair, tugging his head back gently, doing his utmost not to hurt him, yet it was barely moment later before lips were pressed against lips, Michael letting out deep, throaty groan. Oh god, how he wanted this. The taste, the warmth, the silken feel.<br>His other arm slid under Kyrie's bottom, and with a thrust of his thighs he lifted him off the floor to his own waist. He had Kyrie pinned between himself and the wall before his lips drew from his, only to move to the space where his neck met his right shoulder, tasting his skin, his breath hot, his behavior all but feral.<br>"If this is what you need.. Then promise me you won't regret it."<br>He whispered. This was a great, great gamble, crossing this cleft between them. There was really no way back, but Michael could only take <em>so much</em> of a carrot being wiggled before his eyes before his will would snap. He'd either take the fall, or ascend to higher ground than he had been on for so very long. Either way, his powerful arms with the tensed muscles held Kyrie in a firm embrace, awaiting his final decision.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 20:14:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It had been a long few days. To have come so close to death, and now to find himself not only safe but in a position for some kind of connection, physical or otherwise, Kyrie's senses were reeling. He felt overwhelmed. More than anything, he needed something tangible to ground him and, fortunately, Michael found a way to do just that.<br><br>As a large hand wove into his hair, Kyrie's breath caught in his throat and he looked up, confused for a moment. At least until Michael leaned down, closing the distance between them by laying a searing kiss to his lips. At that, Kyrie sighed with delight, tension melting as he leaned up high, lips parting to deepen the exchange. It felt good to be needed, or even just wanted. It gave him a sense of purpose, he supposed, however shallow it was, and he clung onto it fiercely.<br><br>A strong arm lifted him up, whereupon Kyrie wasted no time in wrapping his legs around the other man's waist, arms raising higher to wrap them around his neck. By the time Michael drew away from his mouth, he was breathless, panting softly as his head fell back, flush with the wall. Flustered as he was, he considered the question carefully, waiting a beat or two before drawing himself back up, hands sliding up into Michael's dark hair.<br><br>"I won't regret it," he murmured, rocking his hips slowly, lazily. "I need it. Need you. Please..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 20:48:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael paused, his lips assault on Kyrie's skin halting for but a moment as he listened to his response. A soft nod, and his lips briefly cracking in a smile as he heard the words he was quite frankly dying to hear.<br>"Did I ever mention that you're gorgeous?"<br>He muttered, his grip tightening around Kyrie's waist, holding him close as he carried him away from the wall. The feeling of his hips rocking, his legs wrapped around him - It was all divine. His scent and heat alone was enough to drive him mad with desire at this point, not to mention his beauty alone being a constant tease. A rare, delicious treat, the Michael had finally been allowed to taste.<br><br>He carried him as though he was nothing, as they entered the living room once more, and then moved on into the bedroom. His lips found his neck again, a quick, lustful kiss on his smooth skin before he quite literally threw the him off of him, onto the bed. He took a moment, taking in the sight of Kyrie lying there before him. His eyes were burning with desire for him as he looked back at him, and he discarded his white tank top, revealing his chest once more before he crawled onto the bed, on all fours above Kyrie like a prowling beast.<br><br>He kissed him once more, lips parted to express his maddening desire for him, his tongue protruding, finding his. He had to taste him, to feel him. He had to share this moment of intimacy, and finally have an outlet for all the frustration and aggravation caused by his loneliness and isolation. The warmth of his mouth was like a furnace. His fingers hooked the hem of Kyrie's top, and he promptly pulled it up, the intimate dance of their tongues interrupted as he had to part with him to pull it over his head. <br>He savored the sight of Kyrie's body, leaning down to kiss his chest. His legs parted over him pinning him down onto the soft mattress, his hands caressing his stomach, feeling his skin, his features. A curious hand slid lower, further down, before it came to rest against the crotch of his jeans. He caressed him there, looking up from Kyrie's chest.<br>"Tell me what you want."<br>He whispered, his voice hoarse and breath racing.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 21:15:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael had an easy time carrying him, which didn't surprise Kyrie at all. The man was built like a brick, and this pleased him to no end. In the few moments it took them to reach the bedroom at the back of the apartment, he busied himself with exploring that muscular frame, relentlessly curious about the vast difference between the right and left sides of his body. He still couldn't get over the way those scales felt against his skin...<br><br>Then Michael dropped him onto the bed, the suddenness of which saw the smaller man yelping with surprise. It was only then, as he laid out on the nest of sheets and pillows, that he got a good look at the man's unique shape and color. True enough, he had seen it before, especially with Michael only wearing a tank top during their training session, but it was different this time. It was different in the sense that he was able to look upon him unhindered, without fear that his staring would rub him the wrong way. Kyrie was curious, and if he was honest with himself, not at all bothered by the scales any longer.<br><br>Reaching up for him as the man's taller frame lowered down onto his, Kyrie dug his fingers into his shoulders, giving a lazy moan as a insistent tongue made its way past his lips. Damn it, he tasted good. He hadn't had nearly enough by the time Michael pulled away to strip away his shirt, but he was far from complaining. Those hands made sure of that.<br><br>As a large palm settled between his legs, cupping him through his clothes, Kyrie bucked his hips up, unable to help writhing in response to the attention. Beneath Michael's fingers, a bulge began to form, slowly filling the space and throbbing accordingly. Breathing hard, he glanced down, drawing his hands over Michael's shoulders to the center of his back, marveling at the warmth and the quickening heartbeat that thrummed against his ribs.<br><br>"Want you to fuck me," he panted, grinding his hips into the hand stroking his concealed length. "Please... don't make me beg..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 22:03:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael's grin reappeared as he heard Kyrie request what he wanted, kissing his body again, feeling his growing bulge press up into his hand as he cupped it, and in return he squeezed it further, returning the pressure.<br>"Who's to say that's not my thing?"<br>He whispered hoarsely, is grin only widening further as his eyes peered deeper into Kyrie's, both his hands now at his waist, making quick work of the button and the Zipper. He rose out of the bed yet again, his fingers gripping the bottom of Kyrie's jeans, and pulled them off all but brutally.<br><br>He couldn't wait to see this, and when it came into view, it was more beautiful than he would have ever dared expect. His eyes widened, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as he beheld the spectacle of Kyrie's groin clad in his black lace panties. His mouth watered on the spot as he watched the swelling member within, struggling to fit in the undies that were clearly not designed with it in mind.<br>"Now I <em>know</em> I'm dreaming."<br>He muttered to himself as he watched, half tempted to pinch his arm in disbelief of what he was seeing. But then again, if this was a dream, he really didn't want to wake up.<br><br>He was back on top of Kyrie in a matter of seconds, a hand again greedily cupping his groin, feeling his swelling member, the heat, the throbbing. A considerable bulge stood out in his own jeans, that he had reluctantly left on for the time being. He had to savor this - He had thought it was a thing of the past, that this was all over for him. <br>His lips were pressed to Kyrie's again shortly after, craving the heat of his mouth once more. It was like a feast for him, he didn't know where to begin or where to end. His hand slid into his panties, and with a groan, and a shudder than went through his whole body, he felt Kyrie's manhood in his palm. He squeezed it, caressed it, felt his pouch and the delicate marbles within. He pulled his hand out from Kyrie's panties, their lips parting again as he look him in the eyes, lathering his fingers with his own saliva, before they returned to his groin, slipping up the waistband, down his member, and in between his legs. <br>He found his entrance, his index finger toying with it, teasing him, prodding and poking, before slowly pushing inside, just the tip.<br>"God in heaven you're tight."<br>He whispered.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 22:17:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At that, Kyrie couldn't help a soft laugh. After an entire afternoon and evening of feeling secure again, content in the knowledge that he wouldn't have to look over his shoulder at every turn, his mood had relaxed considerably. Such afforded him the luxury of giving himself competely, of enjoying every little touch and tease to its fullest. Even with his rough hands, Michael made it easy, and Kyrie enjoyed the attention.<br><br>"I get the feeling you're gonna make me beg, just for that..." Blinking slowly as Michael moved up, Kyrie stared at him, bewildered, before suddenly he yanked his jeans right off. Gasping with surprise, he pressed his legs together, slightly embarrassed at how easily he had grown hard beneath the man's touches. The bulge was all the more prominent with only one layer of lace to conceal it, but Michael made quick work of that, kissing him to quiet his moans as a hand slipped into the thin fabric and toyed with him directly.<br><br>Groaning hotly as those fingers closed around his cock, offering just enough stimulation to bring him to full hardness, Kyrie rearranged his legs, settling one around Michael's hip. The other he used to rub his thigh against the hardness he felt behind his jeans, shuddering at the size of it pressing against him. He had no way of knowing that this was but one of the many things Michael had lost and regenerated - all he knew was that it felt significantly bigger than anything he had taken before.<br><br>Kyrie sighed when Michael drew away from his lips, cheeks darkening with a blush as he saw him wet his fingers. He knew what was coming and, accordingly, he opened his legs a bit wider for him. No sooner done did Michael bring the tip of a wet finger to his hole, the sensation of which caused Kyrie to whimper with need. He twisted his hips, silently pleading with him for more, then groaned with relief as the digit breached the tight ring of muscle, head dropping back against the sheets.<br><br>"Feels good," he murmured. Small hands slid down Michael's broad front, fingers raking over skin and scales until they reached the waistband of his jeans, seeking out the heat and weight of his cock. He felt the tip of it and shuddered anew, reaching down to see if he could trace the length of it, trying to determine it's size. "Fuck. You're big..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>07-04-2014, 23:05:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Was he getting caught up in the moment? Sure he was! He was loving every second of this. This kind of pleasure had been far out of reach for such a long time. Feeling Kyrie's tight hole squeeze his finger as he pushed it in deeper made his mouth water at the prospect of pushing himself in there. He wanted to ram the youngster until he could barely stand, make up for years and years of lost lovemaking. Feeling the thigh pressing against his hardening length only mad him groan, fueling the fire further.<br><br>Yet as Kyrie's hands explored him, going down further, feeling up his privates, he was reminded of just why these sorts of things had been out of reach for so long. Kyrie's compliment was not lost on him as he felt his large member through his jeans, and he did possess a rather impressive specimen.<br>"You seem quite open minded, and I don't want to ruin the moment, but I think I should warn you."<br>He started, looking Down at Kyrie, his finger burying itself knuckle-deep, squirming and twisting.<br><br>"You've never had one like mine before."<br>He said, chuckling. It sounded like some cheesy old pick-up line from a crappy romance-flick, didn't it? But it was true. Michael's member was as curious as it was impressive - Ridges formed under the head, all the way to the somewhat bloated base. A pointy tip that grew in thickness the further down one went, the color a mixture of hot pink and soft violet, like some sort of otherworldly sex toy. <br>He might as well warn him now, as Kyrie would no doubt find out about it sooner or later.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>08-04-2014, 00:46:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie all but lost his train of thought as Michael nudged his finger in deeper, sucking in a deep breath and holding it, reveling in the sensation of the thin penetration. He knew, just from feeling the man through his clothes, that he would have to open up a good deal wider to take him inside, but damn if this wasn't a good start. It had been a touch under a year since anyone had fucked him, and his body responded with hypersensitivity to every wriggle of the digit inside of him.<br><br>But as he got his bearings back, Kyrie surmised that he would have to take Michael's words very seriously. At first he was confused, but when he paired the statement with the bulge forming under his fingers, he began to understand. He couldn't quite tell for sure with the thick denim in the way, but Michael had a... unique shape to him. Where he should have felt smoothness, he detected thick, noticeable ridges. And a tapering from the tip to the base...<br><br>"O- Oh..." It was then that he determined Michael's lizard traits extended to more than just his extremities. The thought made the pink coloring on his cheeks darken. "You mean you're..." <em>Different down there.</em> Kyrie wasn't sure what to make of it. All he knew was that he wanted to see it - or at least feel it. Leaning up a bit, he brought his hands to the fly of Michael's jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. A slim hand slid into the fabric, worming about until he could feel the man's erection for himself.<br><br>And indeed, Michael was <em>very</em> different. The texture felt smoother than skin, but much softer than the scales he had expected to find. Just as well, he decided; scales would have hurt if he tried to put that monster inside. The ridges were a delight, however. They felt alien, but all he could think of was how good they would feel rubbing against his inner walls...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>09-04-2014, 00:58:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I mean it's different, yes."<br>He replied courtly to Kyrie's only half-spoken question. Yet he felt the young mans curiosity apparently get the better of him as his fly was undone and soon his jeans were opened, the bulge released from it's initial confines, to proudly tent his boxers, it's odd shape suddenly standing out much clearer.<br>He let out a deep groan, his whole body stopping and tensing as he felt Kyrie's hand slip inside, caressing his length. Oh sweet heaven, this was paradise. Feeling his warm fingers on his member was absolutely entrancing.<br><br>It was slick already, throbbing in Kyrie's hand, hard as iron and red-hot. He pulled back yet again, reluctantly removing Kyrie's hand from inside his boxers, and his own finger from his gripping insides. Standing back up he dropped his jeans entirely, and his boxers were soon to follow, revealing the marvel of a cock to Kyrie's hungry eyes. Indeed the base was surrounded by scales, but the member itself seemingly even more slick and smooth than that of a regular man.<br><br>He hooked his hands in Kyrie's panties - As extraordinarily sexy as he looked with his cock caught under the lace, he wanted to see him proper naked. He pulled them down slowly, lifting Kyrie's legs upwards as he did so, kissing his ankles, his lower leg, all the way to the knees, where his teeth gripped the panties, tugging them the rest of the way off like that, grinning as they hung around his chin, before he let them drop to the floor.<br>"Well then, like what you see?"<br>He asked, raising a brow inquisitively as he stood near the edge of the bed, his erection pointing straight forwards, throbbing, a pearly drop of his precum glistening from it's pointy tip.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>09-04-2014, 01:51:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Feeling the man's sizable cock was one thing. Seeing it was another. Kyrie wasn't prepared for just how big it was, nor how vibrant. The towering column of flesh was anything but human, ridged and red and so far from anything Kyrie had come to acknowledge as normal. For a few moments there, he was intimidated by the idea of taking it inside of him... but damn if he didn't want to try.<br><br>Lifting his head, Kyrie then raised his hips in the slightest to give Michael an easier time of removing his underwear. Most appealing, however, was the way he took them off, catching them between his teeth and drawing them down his shapely legs, leaving him utterly bare. Where Michael had width and length on his side, Kyrie's erection was slender but long, with a delicate upward curve that saw his tip resting over his navel.<br><br>"Mm...?" he murmured, gazing up at the other man, cheeks flushed with arousal. Finally he nodded, eyes traveling back down to the monster of a cock between Michael's legs. "God, yes, I like it, but..." Kyrie drew his legs together, chewing on his full lower lip. "There's no way that thing will fit inside me... will it?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>10-04-2014, 02:50:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael looked from Kyrie's groin to his face as he spoke, finding the way he almost timidly drew his legs closer together quite charming in a cute way. He felt a bit of pride swell in him, as well as his cock giving a merry throb of excitement, as he exclaimed how he did it like the look of it. Good thing, that, otherwise this might have turned quite awkward all of a sudden. However, Kyrie's concern was also understandable, because it took little more than a brief comparison of his monstrous member and the beautiful bottom of Kyrie for someone to realize that it wasn't going to be an <em>easy</em> fit. But hell..<br><br>"Well, I guess we'll just have to find out."<br>He said softly, yet with a cheeky grin as he peered at him. It was sort of strange, seeing Kyrie look a bit nervous all of a sudden - Like they had swapped roles. But he'd be damned if he was going to call it here, without as much as at least giving it a go.<br>"No matter what, we'll need to help it along."<br><br>He murmured, before he dropped to his knees quite abruptly at the edge of the bed. His hands gripped Kyrie's hips and turned him over on the bed, lifting him up on his knees, bottom up in the air. This allowed him full access to, and a great view of Kyrie's most delicate parts. He took a moment to just enjoy the sight, feeling his member burning with desire. Then began his tongue's assault on the sweet pink entrance. At first it was gentle and curious, but soon it grew greedy, covering him in saliva before a certain digit made it's return. Michael adored the tightness of it, as he watched the muscle spread open to accept his finger up close. His tongue continued, until yet another digit joined the first, two fingers pushing inside him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>16-04-2014, 05:42:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kyrie was positive that Michael wouldn't fit. Maybe some of it, down to the second ridge, would just manage to pop inside, but... god, the more he looked at him, the more he realized just how wide he was at his base. Kyrie was small to begin with, his frame lithe and delicate, and the largest cock he had ever taken had been just slightly less than three fingers thick. Michael had more than that. It would take some work, that was for certain.<br><br>Fortunately, the man seemed only too eager to get him ready. Flipping over at Michael's behest, Kyrie worked his way up onto his knees, crossing his arms in front of him and arching his back enticingly. Only moments after, he felt a slick heat on his hole, the sensation of which brought a little yelp from his lips. "Fuck..." Bowing forward, he moaned into the sheets beneath him, winding his hands into them.<br><br>Uncertain as he was of his ability to take Michael completely, Kyrie hadn't been nearly satisfied with just one finger inside of him. He had thought of it as something of a tease, not nearly enough to make him happy. Damn if it didn't get him started, though, and before long the man above him had worked not one but two fingers inside, aided by the slickness of the tongue still busy lapping away at his entrance, lubricating him for entry.<br><br>"God... don't stop," he begged, wringing the sheets, his slender cock achingly hard and bobbing lazily between his legs. The width of two fingers stretched him just enough that he hungered for more, but some part of him was still too embarrassed to ask for it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>17-04-2014, 01:36:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael didn't need to be told not to stop - He had absolutely no intention whatsoever of doing so. If Kyrie thought <em>he</em> was needy, that what was Michael, after all these years of social and sexual isolation. He hadn't had this much fun, this much pleasure, for so long that it seemed little more than a distant memory at this point. It was quite nice, really, to have a breathing space like this, an evening of not being weighed down by bitterness and the overwhelming sense of injustice in the world that had haunted him ever since he had put in his first prison almost ten years ago. Perhaps life still had some gifts left to give.<br><br>And speaking of gifts, Michael had one for Kyrie right about now. It seemed they both agreed that there was no way Michael was going to fit inside Kyrie's sensationally tight passage - Yet. His free hand left the place on Kyrie's hip it had been holding, before it reached under the bed, pulling out something - Something quite phallic indeed. Some hippies would claim that things like these were only physical manifestations of man's everlasting need to waggle their penis about. Michael generally considered them a tool of justice. It was a baton, or billy club if you prefer - And true to hippie-nonsense it was quite phallic indeed. <br><br>He removed his fingers from inside of Kyrie, pulling them out slowly, teasing him as best he could, despite the beautiful young mans desires. It seemed for a moment he might have given up, since he didn't stand up straight to ram himself inside him, but neither did he move away. The the rounded tip of the rubber tool came in contact with his tight opening, and with copious amounts of saliva for lubrication, it slipped inside. Far wider than his two fingers, this thing made a much better job of preparing him for what was to come as it slid inside, inch by inch. Michael felt his cock twitching delightfully as he watched the process. His tongue still circled his hole, moving around the baton as it slipped inside, further and further, opening him up.<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">(http://nickyscostumes.com.au/images/uploads/police%20batton.jpg)</div></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>17-04-2014, 02:54:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The moment that Michael pulled his fingers out, Kyrie groaned at the loss, his hips rocking in an aimless bid to get those fingers back inside of him. He didn't know why the other man had stopped, but damn if he was going to let that delightful sensation go without a fight. "Michael... Please..." His voice was low, desperate, begging with him not to stop when he had only just started to feel pleasure.<br><br>It didn't last for long, though. Shortly after, Kyrie felt something hard and blunt pressing against his saliva-slicked hole, at which he whimpered softly, pushing back against it despite the slight pain of the entry. Much to his surprise, though, the object was cold and unyielding; not at all like the cock he had felt in his hands a few short minutes before. He didn't know what it was, but it was thick and long and pressing into him with ease. And it felt <em>good.</em><br><br>"G- God, what is that...?"<br><br>Panting as he bowed forward, burying his face in the sheets to muffle his moans, Kyrie fought to keep his knees steadily pressed into the mattress. Damn if Michael didn't make it difficult, though, by pressing whatever the hell the intruder was deeper into him. The object seemed widest at the tip, tapering slowly toward the base, which made matters considerably easier once he had comfortably taken the first few inches.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nachtmahr</strong> on <strong>29-04-2014, 03:45:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Michael chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the obvious effect his little idea had on Kyrie. He seemed quite stricken, if one would excuse the pun. He was rather proud of his idea to re-invent this tool of punishment and justice into one of pleasure and depravity.<br>"That's justice for you."<br>He said with a grin, leaning in close to kiss the beautifully curved bottom of the flirtatious youth, before his tongue resumed it's generous caressing of his pink muscle.<br><br>He pushed it in deep, slowly circling it, feeling how Kyrie's body seemed to yield to it more and more with every slow, stubborn thrust that he made. Soon it barely took any effort at all - Hell, the thing was almost swallowed up on it's own, as though his beautiful bottom <em>demanded</em> more.<br><br>Leaving the device in place, buried to the handle inside of him, he stood up and took a strong hold of Kyrie's hips, and rather abruptly threw him onto his side, and the proceeded to turn him onto his back. He moved swiftly, stepping out of his trousers on the floor and kneeling over Kyrie's upper chest, a knee on either side, one scaly, one not, guaranteeing that he wasn't going anywhere. He looked down into his face with a very smug and pleased grin on his face, as his throbbing member hovered over Kyrie's face, a pearl of glistening precum threatening to loosen itself from the massive rod of flesh and falling down onto his lips.<br>"Now, unless you want to go <em>completely</em> raw.."<br>He chuckled, a hand reaching back to take hold of the improvised toy once more, resuming the thrusting.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Incarcerated [Observing Trifles x Nachtmahr]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Observing Trifles</strong> on <strong>07-05-2014, 00:58:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the blunt instrument drove deeper into him, forcing his hole to open up farther, Kyrie twisted and writhed on the sheets in a combination of agony and bliss. Some discomfort lingered, but the pleasure was definitely there, ensuring that he put up no resistance, even as Michael shoved it deeper, until nearly all but the handle sat inside. He had no idea how his body was able to tolerate such an intrusion...<br><br>Yelping with surprise as Michael flipped him over onto his back, Kyrie lifted his hips, nearly to ensure that he didn't land on the tool inside of him. It was in too deep already. But as he realized when Michael shed his clothes, crawling up over his chest to dangle his massive length over his face, he had a considerably larger challenge ahead of him. Indeed, the man's cock was huge, thicker and longer than it had any right to be. Those veins and those ridges all but made his mouth water; so too did the drop of precum forming at his head.<br><br>"Fuck... you're really <em>big</em>..." In a way, Kyrie was terrified. But damn... he wanted that cock more than he had ever wanted a cock in his life. The shape and the texture were inhuman, and at first he was even afraid to touch it again. Soon enough, though, his small hand found the base of the massive tower of flesh, slender fingers stroking him all the way up to his tip. The squeezing gesture saw that bead of precum falling from his tip, and without thinking Kyrie opened his lips to catch it.<br><br>Despite himself, the young man hummed at the taste, moaning once more as Michael reached back to begin fucking him with the club. The pleasure numbed him to his inhibitions and, without a second thought, he leaned up to get his first real taste of the man's cock. A small pink tongue moved over the bloated base, licking up over the line of bumps and ridges on his underside. All the way up to the tip he went, licking lazily, opening his lips wider to suck on the thrumming vein just beneath his head. Idly, he wondered if Michael still retained any normal sensation here. Maybe it was more muted... or more sensitive. He didn't know. But he wanted to find out.<br><br>Leaning up higher, Kyrie wrapped his lips around the tip of Michael's cock and sucked hard, bobbing down to swallow as much as he could into his small mouth. There was no way he could ever take much more than half, and even that would be pushing it. But he tried. Eagerly bobbing down, he fucked his mouth with the man's thick erection, his tongue working steadily at the underside, spreading enough saliva along his member that, within moments, the excess seeped out from behind his lips.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>