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[makehistoria]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, <MOIRAE>. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 44.78.67.42

• Stocke uses <swordpacts> and <moirae> interchangeably; the former especially for Devil's Nest business. Any of his friends/fellow Nest employees probably have his number.   • He's careful to use randomized names on the network the rest of the time; watch out for that if you want your character to contact him about something he said! (Basically just come up with an excuse for them to recognize his writing and all is good.)

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[makehistoria]

[Stocke rubs at his face with the back of one hand, willing the faint heat in his cheeks to fade - but, well, he's still smiling. Find her, huh?]

[He's got one or two things to fetch first - the first hidden inside his wall while intangible, and he digs around to fetch it out immediately - but then he'll go search.]

[And that's what he's doing shortly afterward, though he's got a small box floating behind him. The first place he checks is Raynie's house on the hill - where he is, surprisingly, polite enough to knock on the door.]

[atjourneysend]

[As Stocke approaches the house, he will notice a cardboard sign that definitely wasn't there last time:

SHOW UP UNINVITED AND DIE
(not you – you know who you are)

The door opens to a grinning Raynie, wearing a glittering cocktail dress she totally stole from some unfortunate human back at the masquerade. She takes Stocke's hand and leads him inside.]

I thought to make you run around some more, [She says with a teasing smirk] but then I figured there are better games we can play.

[A gentle scent of fresh flowers hangs in the air and electric lights are very dim, just enough for a nocturnal monster (alas – no romantic candles when your partner is a shade!). She even tidied up – that is, pushed around heaps of shiny crap to clear up space at the center.]

[makehistoria]

[Stocke's not gonna judge. Particularly because he'd rather not think about what he did during the masquerade...]

I'd almost think you had one in mind, [the shade deadpans, but the edge of his mouth is quirked up. He follows her inside, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.]

[After the door's shut and Raynie's stopped moving, Stocke leans forward, asking wordless permission to kiss her. Once she gives it, he closes the rest of the distance, tilting his head to the side to fit their lips together. One hand rises up to cup her face, and the other - ]

[- slips in two metal hairsticks just above where Raynie ties her hair up, where they'll hold. They're topped with black opal, glimmering with yellow-orange undertones; when Stocke pulls back, he offers a quiet,] They reminded me of you.

[Also, Raynie likes glittery things, as gargoyles do. He knows this. And they are very glittery.]

[atjourneysend]

[Raynie mouths a surprised ah against his mouth and pulls back a little, touching one hand to her hair. When she feels the smooth, round gem she just has to see what it looks like.

With her arm still wrapped around Stocke's waist, she pulls him along until she can see herself in the mirror. Even in the reflection, their glimmer is mesmerizing. They almost seem like part of her, complimenting her scales.]

It's beautiful. [Raynie turns back to the shade and hugs him tightly. THIS is how much she loves him, that she'd rather look at him instead of at a pretty glittery gem.]

[makehistoria]

[The highest of all possible compliments!]

[Stocke wraps his arms around her in return, tilting his face into her hair; Raynie might feel a smile pressed against her head. As if it's hidden, just for her.]

So, [he murmers, teasingly.] Better games...?