We were still learning that on the road, actually. The book didn't go much into adding other ingredients- it was kinda something we started messing with at havens. I don't remember exactly how it started. Specs was cooking, and some kind of monster parts got into a flask... it ended up a hell of an explosion when we threw it.
[He uncaps the potion and pours it into the flask. The liquid pools in the base, glowing brightly as it falls and lighting the orb from within, where it begins to pulls gently, absorbing the curative magic much like the potion does when its contents are transformed into a curative.]
I was never that big on chemistry, but every time we played with elemancy at camp we all kinda became scientists, arguing over what to try putting in it next.
[ ...Of course that would be his. ] N-no, I mean... flavor wise. The healing ones? Such as, did you ever mix orange juice with one, and they helped cure a cold after traveling in the rain?
Talk about fearless... okay, but don't blame me if your stomach hates you for it.
[Even if she doesn't... have a stomach. Surely there'll be some kind of hell to pay for tempting fate that way.
However, once the process is started there's kind of a time limit, so rather than quip further Noctis focuses back on the flask, discarding the empty potion bottle and holding his now-free hand over the mixture. Wisps of blue energy, tinged with ribbons of red, orange, and yellow weave their way into the flask, swirling together and infusing themselves with the glowing liquid within. The collective energies spin together, slowly as if stirred like cream in a coffee, then faster and faster as more of the elemental magic begins to flood the contents. As more is added, it looks as if it ought to start overflowing, but instead the energy begins to compress itself more, and more, and more, the potion's green glow slowly overtaken by the fire's red. It takes some time, and by the end of it the glow is coming from two sides: the potion, and a rare but familiar gleam of amethyst in Noct's eyes. As the flask fills to the brim, he presses his palm fully down onto the opening and twists, sealing the flask with a final crackling of dispersing energy.
[ She's only watching it as it happens, the colors and magic swirling and shifting and melting into one, like a maelstrom painted so that one might see only the most powerful torrents of the storm-- the potion, and the essence of her fire, fed back from him and into the mixture. The flask becomes red, and it's capped before it overfills with a soft crackle of magic. Pyra jumps a bit where she's seated as if woken from a trance, not having noticed she was so enthralled in the making of the flask. ]
That's...
[ She's about to say something of her usual sort-- amazing, incredible, and so on-- when she just happens to turn just enough to look at him. As his head is resting over shoulder, she only sees his profile. But it's the glow of his eyes that captivates her now.
...She likes his blue eyes. She truly does. But there's something so mystical and mysterious about that fuchsia hue, like ancient quartz glowing from within, or the distant, silent nebulae of a stellar nursery, waiting to collapse and begin again. ] ...Beautiful.
[He blinks sidelong at her, surprised, the glow flashing on and off between his eyelids. He's not sure what has her so flustered (the blush is barely visible, lit by firelight and the dim pulse of the activated flask), but she looks startlingly pretty as she gazes back at him, so he smiles through his confusion.]
It probably looks easier than it is. I can usually only do that a couple of times before I run out of energy.
[There is in fact a bead of sweat on his forehead; the amount of effort required is subtle but palpable.]
[ Okay, she knows he’s not batting his eyes at her on purpose, but goddammit, Noct— ] Is… is that so…?
[ And, seeing that bead of sweat upon his forehead, she almost laments the fact that she wasn’t watching him as he worked. He has a particular look about him whenever he’s thinking or concentrating, focused and determined to see something in his mind’s eye through. She’s certain that his expression moments ago was just that… the kind of expression that also makes her blush just thinking of it.
… ]
Are you going to make another one?
[ She probably couldn’t take it. She’ll probably end up making out with his face if he does. ]
[He leans in a little to get a closer look at her expression in the dark, the gleam in his eyes fading back to normal. Is she- embarrassed? Flustered? horny
That's precious. He wants to make more just to tease her.]
What do you think, more fire? Or should I do lightning, or ice?
[Is it the act itself, or does her flame play any role in the effect it has on her, he wonders.]
[ The color of his eyes may have returned to normal but that there’s that teasing gleam in them doesn’t ease the sudden warmth that’s overcome her. It takes a moment to find her voice. ] Fire.
[ She recalls, once, how he mentioned that his eyes turn that color when interacting with the divine, or channeling some sort of intense amount of power. Whether it’s her fire that’s doing this or the focus it takes for him to make these flasks, she doesn’t know, but she’d want him to have more healing-fire flasks on hand, so…
She swallows, finding her throat unusually dry. ] I can provide more, if you need it? It was taking it once enough?
I'm okay. I can make a few before I run out, unless I make them really beefy. I figure we didn't need that here.
[It's peaceful enough that big fiery explosions would likely cause more problems than they'd fix, as fun as they are. Though at least healing flasks wouldn't hurt anyone in the crossfire.
He switches to an empty flask and repeats the whole process: pouring in a potion, then the elemental energies, allowing them to pool together in a perfect storm of magical, healing fire, clamping it shut with a set of sparks when it's full to the brim. This time when it's finished he turns to her with a smile and offers the flask up, his eyes carrying that same glow brought about by their mingling magics.]
Here- feel it for yourself. Feels kinda like us, doesn't it?
[ This time, she's aware enough to focus not only on the swirl of magic and power into the flask, but also him. Just as she suspected, he has that focused, intent look about him as he works, and-- there they are again, his eyes, glowing with that fierce, pinkish amethyst that takes her breath away. If only he could look at her like that in the same way, with that same expression, with that same glow of magic within. Just imagining that makes the energy within her coil in a way that makes her warm. She's already turned part way around by the time he finishes, so that it's not her back against his, but her side.
When he offers the flask, holding it up to her, her hand reaches as if to take it, only to go to his wrist instead. Long fingers curl around his forearm, and she guides his arm down. Her hand slips from wrist to the back of his hand, pressing it to the ground by his thigh. As for her body, now she's turned around completely, half on him and straddling one of his thighs, a knee wedged dangerously between his legs, her chest rising with a breath against his as she pulls herself up closer to his chin, his jaw, his lips... All of this happens within the span of a second, because in the next--
She's basically crashing her lips against his with the full force of her weight, using that to shove him to the ground.... probably more forcefully that she intended, oops. ]
[He saw it coming and somehow she still managed to surprise him a little. Her weight pushes him down and onto his back, and it's a good thing that she'd brought his hand low because he's able to release the flask and have it roll away from them, clinking quietly but harmlessly against the others, tiny nightlights a foot or so away from them. His now free hands slide up to her waist, and he's laughing against her lips, his head tilted to meet her. Oh, but she's hungry tonight, he can already tell, and he welcomes it without words.
His eyes are half-closed, the soft pink gleam of magic still lingering, and should she draw back quickly enough she might catch him as he does look at her with a similar focus, warm and intense and kind of smug, actually, like he'd won a war of attrition somehow. As if she wouldn't have welcomed an eager makeout session if he'd asked for that instead of magical experimentation. It's different when he's able to coax out this kind of hunger, okay. A point of pride, and he's not afraid to show it in his expression.]
[ She takes his lips and mouth, taking advantage of the opening his smile gives to taste him, teeth against teeth, tongue against tongue. She likes him beneath her, she likes his hand upon her waist, how it's slid up there and fits so nicely against the curve of her. Her body is pressed to his, lost in the hungry kiss and the heat conserved between them, and she parts not for breath, but to gleam one last look at the changed color of his eyes.
That glow is still there, if faded a bit, but that look is there, together with some tangle of pride and confidence, which is also sexy, when his eyes are half-lidded like that. He--.... he did know what he was doing! Maybe?! Better question, why is she so easy when he looks at her like that?!
She pulls back a little more, feeling all the more flustered. ] S-sorry, I--... I just wanted to kiss you right then. Because of your expression, and your eyes, and... [ And she's fumbling over her words, as if she could excuse herself for being too forward? Desperate? Thirsty?? She doesn't know. ]
Since when are you supposed to apologize for doing stuff like that?
[Kissing him, taking charge- he's pretty sure she ought to have blanket permission to manhandle him as she pleases, more often than not. Though he appreciates her restraint when it's appropriate, they are awfully secluded and alone here in the middle of the wilderness, and at night, besides. The way she's pressed against him is a familiar comfort, heat from more than her body pooling deep in his core. No apologies needed for this one.
His hand slides up her back, gently teasing her spine and the bare skin beneath his fingers, though his head tilts curiously at her comment.]
Are my eyes doing that thing again?
[Between the glow of her crystals and the flasks, not to mention the fire, he can't really tell.]
[ She's about to say "sorry" again before she stops herself, briefly looking off to the side shyly. Sometimes, she apologizes too much for too many things that don't need apologies. This time, she had been self conscious of how... quick to want him she'd been, but his reassurance helps. Pyra's eyes return to meet his when his hand travels up the curve of her spine. As if following his delicate touch, her back arches to the trail of warmth he leaves.
She bites her bottom lip, her fingers tightening upon his shirt. Her thighs tense on either side of his leg-- more obvious shows of her want. Embarrassed as she might be, she can't exactly hide the reactions her body gives. ]
They are.
[ She has enough control to loosen the grip of one of her hands, just enough to lift it to his cheek, cupping it with her palm. ] The blue you have is only yours, but this color, it's... [ She lowers herself to him, her breath fluttering across his cheek. ] It shows up when you're focused. [ Making the overall wear of it extra sexy, really, not to mention how its rarity has its own appeal. ]
[He watches as she works through it, the colour lingering as he focuses on her, and he muses for a moment on whether or not he can feel it. Back home, when he'd noticed the call of the Astrals, he'd felt a tingle at the corner of his eyes, as if he'd been on the edge of tears, and a buzzing in his head as their voices reached for him, but this is different. The only voice he can hear is hers, and the call she's making is distinctly different, one in which he can respond in kind rather than surrender full control. She's not an Astral, but in some ways she's close, and in other ways she's someone he'd much rather be left marked by. Her fire still thrums through his body, buried and subtle but real, like when she shares her energy with him. He can draw on it if he wishes, because she'd gifted that to him. His hands are still warm from the flasks where they rest on her body, tracing features he's come to know well.]
I can't, [he murmurs at last, and when the light fades he likely won't notice either, but that means he should let her enjoy it while she can.] Better give me something to focus on then, huh?
[Since her face is so close to his, it's too easy to push down on her back as he lifts his hips up against her body, tilting her the extra inch he needs to catch her lips with his in another hungry, encouraging kiss, opening up and urging her to continue with whatever she desires most.]
[ His touch upon her back, warm against her skin, would have been enough to have her collapse to him on her own. His gentle push, though, is the encouragement for which she had been waiting. Her lips brush against his for an airy kiss once, twice, and her mouth encompasses his and the hand that had been at his cheek moves to thread fingers through his hair instead, eyes winking open occasionally to glimpse the last amount of fading fuchsia from his gaze when she can.
When his lips part, her tongue finds his, picking up where she had left off moments ago; the hunger had never faded, and he only tastes sweeter now that she's returned to kiss him as deeply as she had left off. What she wants is to kiss him, to hold him, or to feel him, and when she can't decide which one to focus on (he's distracting, after all), she decides to try for all of the above, in succession... ]
But which part of you to focus on first...? [ She asks him, parting from the kiss just enough to speak. ] Here?
[ Her lips brush against his for a soft-- too soft-- kiss. ]
....Here? [ She continues, her tone lighter and curious, playful in pitch. Pyra's hand moves lower upon his side, finding the hem of his shirt and slipping under. Her palm trails up to find the familiar waves of muscles beneath and ridge of his ribs, all undulating with however he may shift his body beneath hers. Her fingers spreads out over his skin, climb up his middle, and circle around a nipple before drawing more lazy shapes into the center of his chest.
He looks good in what he wears; he's a man who knows how to dress. But she far more enjoys feeling his bare chest either beneath her palms or pressed close to her own breast, relishing how he breathes and how his heart beats and the warmth beneath her touch, knowing that he's alive and healthy and loving. That, and she can kiss and taste him anywhere upon him, without fabric in the way of where her lips might wander. But they can get to that later. ]
Or... [ Gently, but firm enough to emphasize the motion of her body, she presses her hips down against his in an effort to make him want for hot, sweet, and breathless air. ] Here?
[Each touch is met by a quiet but distinct noise from him; for the kiss, a contented hum as he tries to return it, too brief. For the caress of his chest, an unsteady exhaled breath, eyes closing for a moment as her fingers tease over bare skin and muscle, spots that are sensitive by default but especially to her. For the press of their bodies, heated and heavy and just hard enough that she'll feel his growing arousal through their clothes, he sets free a quiet groan, poorly restrained even though he'd expected it. All of it was good, it's always good, and his heartbeat picks up as instincts kick in and he shifts subtly beneath her, moving in a way that more neatly fits their bodies together, keeping her close.]
I can't decide, [he manages, when he finds his breath again. His body is surely deciding for him, though.] Should we flip a coin?
[Without waiting for whatever quip she might offer in return, his hands slide back downwards, fingers dipping and pinning themselves beneath the fabric of her shorts to cup more of her bare skin, pulling her down to grind teasingly against her. Two can play at this game, and his question had been where to focus on with her, not him. If she'd rather turn it on him then he can respond in kind, and figure out the answer for himself. (He knows, though. She's an easy read, and he loves that about her.)]
[ It seems that any of the choices would be enough, but she does like how the progression of them also escalated his reactions, reactions that, if she were honest, are something she enjoys seeing and hearing from him. The shift of his hips beneath hers isn't unwelcome, either, and it causes a shudder to ripple through her body, her lips to part with a breath. She also rather enjoys feeling the signs of his pleasure against the concavity of her hips.
His hands beneath her shorts, feeling the curve of her thighs and buttocks, pulling her against him, easily elicits a response from her in more ways than one. First, it's easy to press herself to him in return, using gravity and the guidance of his hands, keeping the contact constant but allowing the pressure to ebb and flow between one grind and another. It's for him as it is as much for herself, stirring herself up further. Second, she allows her shorts to begin to vanish against her skin, leaving her lower half covered with just the bare minimum and him less cloth to work against, should he choose to explore how ready, how damp she's become against his shorts. Third...
She's going to make an executive decision for the both of them because ever since his eyes started to glow, she's been wanting him as quickly and impatiently as fire, burning without the threat of dying out. Her body is warm-- hot-- and it's always him who ignites it.
Pyra leans over him, a hand still at the middle of his chest and the other pressed to the picnic blanket beside his head, fingers curling into the woven strands as her breath flutters against his lips. ] Then... all at once.
[ And she means this literally, as she'll be taking his lips and tongue, feeling his chest, and pressing her hips against him for a long, slow grind. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[He uncaps the potion and pours it into the flask. The liquid pools in the base, glowing brightly as it falls and lighting the orb from within, where it begins to pulls gently, absorbing the curative magic much like the potion does when its contents are transformed into a curative.]
I was never that big on chemistry, but every time we played with elemancy at camp we all kinda became scientists, arguing over what to try putting in it next.
no subject
Did you have a favorite?
[
Should have put rum in one--]no subject
[Let's just pretend that their replicator doesn't currently produce that meat. An explosion that big in the city would probably not go over so well.]
no subject
no subject
[He's momentarily taken aback by that question, in truth. Wow.]
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ … ]
I’ll be the first to try, then.
[ It’s her fire anyway, and it’s ~cleansing~. It won’t hurt! ]
no subject
[Even if she doesn't... have a stomach. Surely there'll be some kind of hell to pay for tempting fate that way.
However, once the process is started there's kind of a time limit, so rather than quip further Noctis focuses back on the flask, discarding the empty potion bottle and holding his now-free hand over the mixture. Wisps of blue energy, tinged with ribbons of red, orange, and yellow weave their way into the flask, swirling together and infusing themselves with the glowing liquid within. The collective energies spin together, slowly as if stirred like cream in a coffee, then faster and faster as more of the elemental magic begins to flood the contents. As more is added, it looks as if it ought to start overflowing, but instead the energy begins to compress itself more, and more, and more, the potion's green glow slowly overtaken by the fire's red. It takes some time, and by the end of it the glow is coming from two sides: the potion, and a rare but familiar gleam of amethyst in Noct's eyes. As the flask fills to the brim, he presses his palm fully down onto the opening and twists, sealing the flask with a final crackling of dispersing energy.
Just like that, the elemancy flask is made.]
1/2
That's...
[ She's about to say something of her usual sort-- amazing, incredible, and so on-- when she just happens to turn just enough to look at him. As his head is resting over shoulder, she only sees his profile. But it's the glow of his eyes that captivates her now.
...She likes his blue eyes. She truly does. But there's something so mystical and mysterious about that fuchsia hue, like ancient quartz glowing from within, or the distant, silent nebulae of a stellar nursery, waiting to collapse and begin again. ] ...Beautiful.
[ ..... ]
no subject
[ Oh dear. Oh dear, she's blushing now, and quickly looking forward to the flask again. ] That's all it takes. You make it seem effortless.
no subject
It probably looks easier than it is. I can usually only do that a couple of times before I run out of energy.
[There is in fact a bead of sweat on his forehead; the amount of effort required is subtle but palpable.]
no subject
[ And, seeing that bead of sweat upon his forehead, she almost laments the fact that she wasn’t watching him as he worked. He has a particular look about him whenever he’s thinking or concentrating, focused and determined to see something in his mind’s eye through. She’s certain that his expression moments ago was just that… the kind of expression that also makes her blush just thinking of it.
… ]
Are you going to make another one?
[ She probably couldn’t take it. She’ll probably end up making out with his face if he does. ]
no subject
[He leans in a little to get a closer look at her expression in the dark, the gleam in his eyes fading back to normal. Is she- embarrassed? Flustered?
hornyThat's precious. He wants to make more just to tease her.]
What do you think, more fire? Or should I do lightning, or ice?
[Is it the act itself, or does her flame play any role in the effect it has on her, he wonders.]
no subject
[ She recalls, once, how he mentioned that his eyes turn that color when interacting with the divine, or channeling some sort of intense amount of power. Whether it’s her fire that’s doing this or the focus it takes for him to make these flasks, she doesn’t know, but she’d want him to have more healing-fire flasks on hand, so…
She swallows, finding her throat unusually dry. ] I can provide more, if you need it? It was taking it once enough?
no subject
I'm okay. I can make a few before I run out, unless I make them really beefy. I figure we didn't need that here.
[It's peaceful enough that big fiery explosions would likely cause more problems than they'd fix, as fun as they are. Though at least healing flasks wouldn't hurt anyone in the crossfire.
He switches to an empty flask and repeats the whole process: pouring in a potion, then the elemental energies, allowing them to pool together in a perfect storm of magical, healing fire, clamping it shut with a set of sparks when it's full to the brim. This time when it's finished he turns to her with a smile and offers the flask up, his eyes carrying that same glow brought about by their mingling magics.]
Here- feel it for yourself. Feels kinda like us, doesn't it?
no subject
When he offers the flask, holding it up to her, her hand reaches as if to take it, only to go to his wrist instead. Long fingers curl around his forearm, and she guides his arm down. Her hand slips from wrist to the back of his hand, pressing it to the ground by his thigh. As for her body, now she's turned around completely, half on him and straddling one of his thighs, a knee wedged dangerously between his legs, her chest rising with a breath against his as she pulls herself up closer to his chin, his jaw, his lips... All of this happens within the span of a second, because in the next--
She's basically crashing her lips against his with the full force of her weight, using that to shove him to the ground.... probably more forcefully that she intended, oops. ]
no subject
His eyes are half-closed, the soft pink gleam of magic still lingering, and should she draw back quickly enough she might catch him as he does look at her with a similar focus, warm and intense and kind of smug, actually, like he'd won a war of attrition somehow. As if she wouldn't have welcomed an eager makeout session if he'd asked for that instead of magical experimentation. It's different when he's able to coax out this kind of hunger, okay. A point of pride, and he's not afraid to show it in his expression.]
no subject
That glow is still there, if faded a bit, but that look is there, together with some tangle of pride and confidence, which is also sexy, when his eyes are half-lidded like that. He--.... he did know what he was doing! Maybe?! Better question, why is she so easy when he looks at her like that?!
She pulls back a little more, feeling all the more flustered. ] S-sorry, I--... I just wanted to kiss you right then. Because of your expression, and your eyes, and... [ And she's fumbling over her words, as if she could excuse herself for being too forward? Desperate? Thirsty?? She doesn't know. ]
no subject
[Kissing him, taking charge- he's pretty sure she ought to have blanket permission to manhandle him as she pleases, more often than not. Though he appreciates her restraint when it's appropriate, they are awfully secluded and alone here in the middle of the wilderness, and at night, besides. The way she's pressed against him is a familiar comfort, heat from more than her body pooling deep in his core. No apologies needed for this one.
His hand slides up her back, gently teasing her spine and the bare skin beneath his fingers, though his head tilts curiously at her comment.]
Are my eyes doing that thing again?
[Between the glow of her crystals and the flasks, not to mention the fire, he can't really tell.]
no subject
She bites her bottom lip, her fingers tightening upon his shirt. Her thighs tense on either side of his leg-- more obvious shows of her want. Embarrassed as she might be, she can't exactly hide the reactions her body gives. ]
They are.
[ She has enough control to loosen the grip of one of her hands, just enough to lift it to his cheek, cupping it with her palm. ] The blue you have is only yours, but this color, it's... [ She lowers herself to him, her breath fluttering across his cheek. ] It shows up when you're focused. [ Making the overall wear of it extra sexy, really, not to mention how its rarity has its own appeal. ]
You really can't tell?
no subject
I can't, [he murmurs at last, and when the light fades he likely won't notice either, but that means he should let her enjoy it while she can.] Better give me something to focus on then, huh?
[Since her face is so close to his, it's too easy to push down on her back as he lifts his hips up against her body, tilting her the extra inch he needs to catch her lips with his in another hungry, encouraging kiss, opening up and urging her to continue with whatever she desires most.]
gettin nsfw in here
When his lips part, her tongue finds his, picking up where she had left off moments ago; the hunger had never faded, and he only tastes sweeter now that she's returned to kiss him as deeply as she had left off. What she wants is to kiss him, to hold him, or to feel him, and when she can't decide which one to focus on (he's distracting, after all), she decides to try for all of the above, in succession... ]
But which part of you to focus on first...? [ She asks him, parting from the kiss just enough to speak. ] Here?
[ Her lips brush against his for a soft-- too soft-- kiss. ]
....Here? [ She continues, her tone lighter and curious, playful in pitch. Pyra's hand moves lower upon his side, finding the hem of his shirt and slipping under. Her palm trails up to find the familiar waves of muscles beneath and ridge of his ribs, all undulating with however he may shift his body beneath hers. Her fingers spreads out over his skin, climb up his middle, and circle around a nipple before drawing more lazy shapes into the center of his chest.
He looks good in what he wears; he's a man who knows how to dress. But she far more enjoys feeling his bare chest either beneath her palms or pressed close to her own breast, relishing how he breathes and how his heart beats and the warmth beneath her touch, knowing that he's alive and healthy and loving. That, and she can kiss and taste him anywhere upon him, without fabric in the way of where her lips might wander. But they can get to that later. ]
Or... [ Gently, but firm enough to emphasize the motion of her body, she presses her hips down against his in an effort to make him want for hot, sweet, and breathless air. ] Here?
bow chicka wow wow
I can't decide, [he manages, when he finds his breath again. His body is surely deciding for him, though.] Should we flip a coin?
[Without waiting for whatever quip she might offer in return, his hands slide back downwards, fingers dipping and pinning themselves beneath the fabric of her shorts to cup more of her bare skin, pulling her down to grind teasingly against her. Two can play at this game, and his question had been where to focus on with her, not him. If she'd rather turn it on him then he can respond in kind, and figure out the answer for himself. (He knows, though. She's an easy read, and he loves that about her.)]
no subject
His hands beneath her shorts, feeling the curve of her thighs and buttocks, pulling her against him, easily elicits a response from her in more ways than one. First, it's easy to press herself to him in return, using gravity and the guidance of his hands, keeping the contact constant but allowing the pressure to ebb and flow between one grind and another. It's for him as it is as much for herself, stirring herself up further. Second, she allows her shorts to begin to vanish against her skin, leaving her lower half covered with just the bare minimum and him less cloth to work against, should he choose to explore how ready, how damp she's become against his shorts. Third...
She's going to make an executive decision for the both of them because ever since his eyes started to glow, she's been wanting him as quickly and impatiently as fire, burning without the threat of dying out. Her body is warm-- hot-- and it's always him who ignites it.
Pyra leans over him, a hand still at the middle of his chest and the other pressed to the picnic blanket beside his head, fingers curling into the woven strands as her breath flutters against his lips. ] Then... all at once.
[ And she means this literally, as she'll be taking his lips and tongue, feeling his chest, and pressing her hips against him for a long, slow grind. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)