bad decisions, iv edition // for numbers96

[myselfwillbear]

[ IV doesn't know a huge amount about what his crest can do. It's not as though Tron has really told him much - he knows it stops the Numbers controlling his mind, but beyond that? He wasn't told anything.

He's worked out though, on his own, that he can manifest the Numbers outside of the AR, using the crest. It's not perfect, true - Giant Killer is as small as one of his dolls, Heaven's Strings won't leave its sealed form - but they'll appear nonetheless. He's never gotten to experiment with Machu Mach or Dyson Sphere, though, much as he'd wanted to, and none of the other Numbers he's collected have ever been that interesting.

So, truth be told, he doesn't exactly have high hopes for this latest card, 96.

But he'll manifest it anyway, if only the one time, to see.

Which is why he's currently stood over Black Mist's card, crest blazing on his hand as he works on drawing it out into reality. ]

Comments

[numbers96]

[It's there for him, of course, when he begins to come down. It floats up to cradle his head in his lap, strokes his cheek and speaks to him in a voice dripping with adoration.]

You've done so ｗｅｌｌ, pet...you've made me so ｐｒｏｕｄ...

[Its touches are rhythmic, soothing, a simple pattern to bring him to rest.

(in the background, V squirms, moans as a tendril probes at his ass and another slips into his mouth, nearly sobs with relief)]

Would you like to sleep, pet?

I can make him ready.

[myselfwillbear]

[ IV mumbles incoherently against Black Mist at first, shifting to bury his face in its lap and trembling with the force of his exhaustion.

It's speaking to him like that, it's soothing him and IV is so tired, so desperate to sleep but-- but he can hear V, too. He wants to see. Wants to see it get V off, wants to-- no, though, not help out. Not now, not when he can barely even move and every part of him feels leaden with exhaustion. ]

I--

I want to...

[ He trails off, the see dying in his throat as his eyes flutter shut completely.

He wants to see, but when he can barely keep his eyes open and the only thing keeping him up at all is the tendrils holding him, he's not so sure that that's going to happen.

(maybe--)

(maybe if it held him up, so that he could sit back against it in the air)

(it could envelope him too, he thinks, moans weakly at the thought and squirms just a little) ]