thisavrou | ❧ 002 [video]

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❧ 002 [video]

[When the TAB first flickers to life, all that's visible is an intricately scarred cheek with just the slightest peek of ivory fangs past blue lips. There's the faint sound of something shifting about and finally, Kurt comes into full view.

He's sitting on the edge of an old stone fountain, his tail swishing back and forth behind him, a grin plastered across his face.] I know very little about this holiday, but I've read a few things in an attempt to try and understand better.

[Meaning that he has forgone all the really romantic and couple-esque things about 'Valentine's Day' or whatever they would be calling it on Thisavrou.]

Giving chocolate to someone you like is traditional and I have more than a few friends and other people that I enjoy being around, so ... [He reaches over to pick up a small black box and pops the lid off of it, revealing the candy inside.]

Who wants some chocolate? [A soft laugh follows shortly after his inquiry as he replaces the lid and clutches the box to his chest, smile somehow broadening.]

I'm more than willing to deliver it, too.

(ooc: cw for anyone that decides to read the thread with kurt and j. [mentions of self-harm, internalized transphobia and ... self-loathing?])

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[Well, to be fair she's playing him on purpose. Nervous teenage boys will never stop amusing her and lot of his reactions actually reminds her from Peter when they had just met. Just as awkward and stumbling.]

She'd probably say I'm going to hell. [She says with a shrug, again not really giving any weight to that opinion.] But I'm going there for plenty other things already.

[She spins the unlit cigarette between her fingers for few times and then suddenly takes a deep breath in, brings the end of the cigarette close to her mouth and blows to it. In her breath there's two sparks that are barely visible but still enough to light the tobacco. After that, flips it and puts the other end back to her mouth.]

Like for eating candy. You know that sugar is evil, right?

That's a bit harsh. [Blunt, but true. Kurt wouldn't damn anyone to Hell for smoking; it's a choice and honestly, there are far worse things that people could be doing besides poisoning their lungs. Doesn't mean he has to approve, though.] What makes you say that?

[His eyes watch the stick of tobacco, following the way it moves through J's fingers and is brought up to her lips. Brilliantly colored irises dilate at the cigarette being lit by tiny flares from her mouth. He'd assumed that she had some sort of powers, considering she lived with them in the mansion, but he hadn't seen any abilities in action.]

It's not necessarily evil. The virtue of temperance disposes us to avoid any kind of excess with our vices, whether food, alcohol, tobacco, or medicine. Even materialistic things.

[It's harsh, that's true. But such was the nature of her mother. Harsh, strict and disciplinary woman who only trusted the power of the God while fearing his wrath. Not even as a child J could buy that mindset and the figure of almighty father in heaven stayed as distant and untrue to her. It also worked better that way when she had to find herself.

But his question makes her take her eyes off from the cigarette, a curious and unspoken question stepping in her expression where tease had just been a second ago. Now, she can't help but wonder what all did he even see when he appeared to Peter's room last time. But then again, it didn't matter that much. She had done plenty of things, back at home and on Moira, that could easily land her on hell rather than heaven.]

Various things. I'm pretty sure I've committed every sin that you can think of. [And so the confident and playful tone returns to her, it's back in the curl of her lip and lightness fo here voice. She picks the chocolate box again, opens it and takes out one piece of delicious looking treat.]

Is it not? You think that temperance can beat the greed and gluttony. That it won't only lure you towards other carnal pleasures and hedonist sins.

[In his defense, he hadn't expected them to be ... well, in the position that they had been, considering he didn't know what exactly J and Peter were to each other at the time. Now, he knows and knocking is going to be his preferred method first, since he wouldn't want to end up in that situation again.

Kurt takes note of the curiosity in J's eyes, although it's gone just as quick as it had come and he shakes his head, reaching one hand up to rake through his bi-colored bangs.]

We all commit sins, nobody's perfect. [Doesn't matter how much they claim to be or act like they are. There's the slightest lift of the edges of his lips at the return of J's self-assured poise, the smile broadening a bit when she takes a chocolate from the box.]

I can't say what exactly will lead others toward that, but what I do know is that I can control my own actions, which means that I can pray for others to be directed toward happiness and things that will help them flourish in life - no matter what they believe in.

Ah, well that's just perfect then! [She laughs an announcement an pops the sweet chocolate inside her mouth. She bites down on the candy, and enjoys as the rich, strong and delicious taste fills her mouth with big and exaggerate gestures.]

Please, say little prayer for me so I can keep up sinning. Who knows, maybe it'll do the thing. [Is she making fun out of him? Maybe.]

[He's a bit taken aback by the comment enunciated with her laughter, but he clears his throat, straightens his posture and flicks the end of his tail closer to the spot between his shoulder blades.

And even if she is making fun of him, Kurt either doesn't catch on or he's legitimately this sincere:] I pray for all my friends, miss J. You deserve to be happy, too.

[She smacks her tongue few times before swallowing the chocolate. It's not necessarily the most ladylike thing to do but she's just having too much fun. Just how oblivious can he be?]

Well, maybe the sin is what makes me happy. [She laughs and brings the cigarette back to her mouth again as an icing on the cake. But to be honest, the whole idea of sin is more complicated than that. From all what she learned from her mother and the other people around her just being her is same as committing a sin and that's the one thing J would never give up on. But there's still a deep and strong self-loath hidden in her mocking yet amused laughter.]

[Pretty damn naive, but he's certainly not stupid. He can sense that something is off by J's laughter, but he can't quite put his finger on the exact reason why.]

We all enjoy some form of 'sinful' activity. [In his case, it's scarification; he doesn't exactly take pleasure in the form of penitence, but many would say that what he's doing is immoral because self-harm is wrong in most cases. To Kurt, it's simply another way to repent, much like how some other Catholics are flagellants.]

Oh? [She blows a smoke ring at his direction to emphasis the curious sound. The smoke barely reach him before breaking apart and fading into the air, leaving behind nothing but strong and stinging smell.

Leaning her back on the wall behind her, she crosses her arms and playfully bounces the leg that's placed over the another one up and down.]

Care to share with class what that sinful activity might be for you?

[Brilliantly colored eyes widen with bewilderment at the smoke ring floating toward him, but he doesn't attempt to move away from it. He wrinkles his nose at the lingering stench and raises a hand to waft it away, even though he's relatively sure it won't work.

He clears his throat, raises his arms and begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to the bend of his elbows. It's really only to prove a point - that nobody is perfect or free of sin, but his hands still shake as he continues bunching the fabric up. Once they are secured, Kurt holds his arms out, twisting them back and forth to show the intricately detailed scars there.]

Ritualistic scarification.

[ This is no laughing matter. That's what J thinks to herself when he reveals the scars with explanation. She remembers her mother talking about such things once or twice, how people would hurt themselves to get free of sin or use pain to get closer to God.

"Bunch of lunatics," is what both her father and mother had said. Guess, that was too intense even for them. Even in the Catholic school which she attended after losing her family had deemed such acts as forbidden. Your body is a temple and whatsoever and you need to care and take care of it, that's what you owe to God.

So to see such thing, self-inflictef harm is jarring and makes her wonder why. It briefly takes her mind back to December, when she had found Kavinsky bleeding and razor in hand. A sight she still couldn't understand. But this was different than that. Kurt didn't want to die.]

Are you sure this is God you're worshipping here? As far I know there's someone else who asks for blood.

[What makes this worse is how utterly serious Kurt seems about the habitual self-harm. He hasn't done it lately, but that's only because he'd been so distracted with everything going on, he'd temporarily forgotten about home, the cage fights, Angel's wing ... He still needed to repent for that.

The act is not only for repentance, though. On a personal level, he uses the Enochian markings in a way people wouldn't understand and honestly, the blue-skinned mutant is fine with that; he doesn't expect people to understand the things he does to himself and never once has he demanded them to do so. There's a reason he doesn't talk about it.

He swallows around the forming lump in his throat, finally looks away from J and begins forcing his sleeves back down. No, he's not ready to admit to any other reason for the mutilation aside from--]

God's son died for us. Does it not seem fair to sacrifice something in return for that?

Really? [She asks also dropping her gaze down on his arms. Now that she takes a better look at his scars, squinting her eyes a bit as she places her whole focus on them, she realizes how ugly and gross they are.

Well, guess there's something good in his weird blue color, J thinks. For a quick moment she thinks how would they look on someone normal, how would the red marks look against the pale, white skin. A thought of that almost makes her feel nauseated. But regardless, she still can't quite wrap her head around why. And even though it's not like J isn't wearing her own sin and making it visible to everyone else, embracing and nearly smearing it on everyone else's faces, it's still hidden in such clever way that only few actually catch an idea of it. So, even if the blue takes the attention away from the marks, why would he leave cuts for everyone to see?]

Here I thought he died so that we wouldn't need to do things like these? Or does cutting yourself up make you feel closer to God or something equally weird?

[And just like that, he can feel the burning sensation of judgement in J's stare. He fumbles with the sleeves, dipping his head in humiliation then tucking both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans to hide the markings on them.

It's odd to have someone bring his scars into question; most people see them, scold or pity him and leave it at that, but J's actually asking him why he does it. He can't admit to the other reason yet and frankly, he's not sure she would understand that reasoning either, but he has to think of some way to answer her question truthfully and without letting on that he's becoming uncomfortable with the way this conversation seems to be headed.]

Sure, we can go with 'equally weird.' Have you ever had an adrenaline rush? Exsanguination offers that, too. I'm not saying that's a reason I do it. [Although, he's not going to admit that it's been reason before; the sting of the cut, the dull throb, throb, throbbing of his pulse, the bloom of epinephrine as he bleeds out. One of the same reasons why other people do drugs and maybe that's another thing that scares him: he enjoys the feeling.]

[J's being everything but fair here. She definitely knows a thing or two about adrenaline rush and has done more than just few questionable and dangerous things under it's influence. Varying from prostitution to drugs. Sometimes aiming for self-harm of sorts.

So really, this is nothing but a pot calling kettle but it still everything but stops her fleshing out the tone of her voice with judgement. And it's not like she can't read the uneasiness and reluctance from him. But the more he shies away and tries to withdraw to himself away from her, the more does she want to chase and drag him out.

It's a cruel play.]

So. Does that mean you get kicks out of it? Isn't that what an 'adrenaline rush' is all about? [She pressures, her sharp and keen eyes fixated on him.] Don't worry. That's not even weirdest kink I've encountered.

[The demon-eyed boy's lips purse, his entire form going rigid with discomfort. What in God's name was a 'kink' and what did it have to do with scarification? He shouldn't ask and he won't outright do so, but he's going to find a more subtle way to inquire about it.

He huffs an indignant breath, straightens his posture and narrows his eyes in an almost skeptical manner at the woman in front of him, unsure as to what she is trying to accomplish by continuing to push at his insecurities.]

If you're asking if I do it because I enjoy it, I don't. [That's a lie.] And I'm not sure how cutting myself would be a 'kink.'

[Since he has no idea what it is, anyway.]

You sure? [She sneers, a sense of victory washing over her as the discomfort settles over him. A self-serving, harsh hunger has awaken in her that only keeps her want to go further.

It's an ugly need for superiority and to be right.]

Sweetie. There's bunch of people who get a hard on just for thinking about being bent over and spanked. [She laughs and inhales more smoke from her cigarette] I wouldn't be surprised if there were perverts enjoying cutting themselves up. Or what do you think?

I am. [He's more than a little uncomfortable, but his words don't waver. In fact, if anything, Kurt sounds more firm than before; he doesn't understand J's satisfaction with seeing him squirm.

His chest puffs, crimson eyes narrowing with skepticism.]

My scarification is not 'perverted' in any sort of way, miss J. [He plants his fists on his hips and antagonistically flicks his tail.] I think whatever people do for ... for pleasure is their own business, but that is not the reason in my case.

[Oh, oh. Where does this change come from? The new, more defensive, nearly aggressive demeanour in him makes J smile grow. It's like a challenge that's thrown her way.

She uncrosses her legs and stands up from the bed, the bright cigarette still hanging between her fingers. Taking the few steps forward, she's standing right in front of him.]

Not to be closer to God and not to get some freaky perverted kicks, I see. [J tilts her head to the side and raises her free hand to touch his cheek.]

Then what part do you enjoy then? Do you think it'll salvage you? That God will love and forgive you for looking like this?

[Even as J moves to get to her feet, Kurt firmly holds his stance, hands clenching tighter at her approach.

He's not entirely sure what had come over him to make him get defensive like that, but he's less worried about it now and more concentrating on how she continues coming forward, only stopping once they are practically staring each other down.

To be quite honest, he's fleetingly struck mute by her barrage of questions, unsure as to how he can respond without possibly making a fool out of himself, although in his mind, he'd already done that by getting snippy with her. So, no reason to stop now?

Her hand settles on his cheek and Kurt slackens marginally, like a weight has dropped onto his shoulders, his head bowing forward so he can look at their feet instead.] ... God forgives those who ask for it, but I wouldn't expect someone who doesn't believe to understand.

[Her long and painted nail moves up and down on his cheek, gently scratching the scarring there. It shouldn't be enough to actually hurt but still should cause some irritation and discomfort on the skin, that is if he really doesn't enjoy from the prickling sensation of pain.

Another mocking laughter escapes from her and J leans her head back a bit to, looking him from head to toe with more measuring and critical eye. There's a small spark of pity and sorry for the poor boy, holding on to his faith so tightly when his appearance made him look nothing but God's lame joke. Well, if it keeps him going who is she to judge.

Except.]

Ha! In my experience it's different. Asking for it won't help unless you'll do the change. So, how are you going to change this? [Her nail presses harder against the rough skin before letting go of him]

But then again, you're right. How would I know anything about God? But I'll tell you I know bullshit when I smell it. And didn't you already say so yourself, hm? That we all have sinful acts that we enjoy?</>

[His eyes wince shut at the scratching along his face, the inconvenience that her nails cause earning a rather pathetic sounding harumph. He's annoyed with the scrape on his scars; it doesn't cause him any unnecessary pain, but he does cringe away from it, if only to try and escape from how awkwardly intimate willing skin contact feels.

She's scrutinizing him and Kurt can sense the condolence. Whether it's mocking or not, he isn't sure because he doesn't bother looking up at J until she 'ha's at him. He opens his mouth to say something, hesitates when the nails press harder into his marred flesh then withdraws with a surprised yelp.

Causing himself pain seems like something different than that, although is he stepping backwards because of J touching him or was there another reason - like how he'd raised his hands to cup his cheeks, averting his gaze to the floor once again at the challenging tone in her voice.]

That ... that is what I said, ja. Why does it matter to you how I look or how God will judge the choices I've made? You have no reason to concern yourself about whether I'm going to hell or not.

I don't. [Again, the reply comes through harsh and cold. She doesn't try to catch him again no does she take steps to close the distance between them. She knows she's in control even without that.]

I don't care where you end or whatever. You can cut and hit yourself with a whip as much you like but-- [She pauses, inhaling deep before blowing the air out heavily between her lips. A few small accidental sparks slip out.]

But don't go acting like you're good or something more than what you really are.

[And finally, for the first time since this conversation, Kurt looks unashamedly offended. She doesn't care, yet she continues to sit and judge his appearance and the poor life choices he's made with no thought to mention her own short-comings?

His lips twitch, fangs baring with a small growl, both hands curling into fists at his sides.] I have never acted as if I am flawless or even a little bit gut. I have only ever been myself and should others accept me for who I am? Great. If not, even better, considering I don't need that sort of negativity around. I got enough of it from the-- [a beat, his features twisting into discomfort,] ... I got enough of it.

[Were he a more brash type of individual, Kurt might have reached for her wrist, pulled her back in and muttered something far more caustic, but he's not. Alternatively, he falls silent, looking uncomfortably tight-lipped before he clears his throat and backpedals another few paces.] I'm not gut. I've done things - terrible things that I cannot rectify and for the rest of my life, I will live with that. I never ask for anything, but if there's one thing I would ever wish for someone to understand, it would be that I'm not this charming, silver-tongued devil that everyone tries to make me out to be.

[He releases a harsh breath, takes another step back and reaches around to find the doorknob.] I'd also prefer it if people would get to know me before they decide to judge me for what I am, [another pause, the glint in those iridescent eyes sharpening,] because while I may be bad, by God, I'm sure trying to do my best to not be. Don't assume that you know as much.

[There it is - all laid out in a neat little pile for J to see. Kurt hasn't thought of himself as a 'decent' sort of being for a long time, having been forced to flee from his family, struggling with the circus in Munich, then the fight club in Berlin, both of his battles with Angel ... He's hurt people, made others bleed, taken their lives to protect his own and his friends. For the latter, he would sacrifice everything, but himself? Why, it felt almost selfish of him to want to live.

He stands there a moment longer, completely silent, except for his labored breathing. His head shakes and he pivots to face the door, clenching his fingers around the handle and pulling it open.] ... enjoy your chocolate, miss J.

[Then, unless she decides to stop him, he's out of there as quickly as he can manage.]

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❧ 002 [video]

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I'm having feeling this thread should have cw for whole lot of things

i went ahead and added a thing up in the earlier entry (especially for this tag)

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