[Open Moons Mingle Log]

[serpentis]

Who: Anyone and Everyone!
Broadcast: Maybe!
Action: Abeo, Accendo, Adsum
When: 2/3-2/7

[WELCOME TO THE MOONS ENJOY YOUR STAY DON'T GET ARRESTED.]

Comments

[parricida]

To do with your body, or your species?

[He reaches out-- gently, carefully, pulling back if the touch is clearly unwanted-- to brush his fingers along Robin's chest, right where his heart might be if he was human.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[there's a human heart beating away in there, in his very human-seeming body... very normal, actually, steady and rhythmic and safely behind ribs, where Robin very much prefers it to stay. he shifts little at the touch, but does not make any moves away from it. if he's uncomfortable, he isn't showing it.]

My body. [barely a pause.] I'm talented.

[parricida]

In more than one way, it seems. Might I ask for a demonstration?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[he giggles in a way that he probably shouldn't.]

I'm not keen on regrowing my heart again, if that's the kind of demonstration you're looking for.

[parricida]

A simpler one might do, if you're going to be fussy about it.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[tsk tsk. it's his turn to lean over, playfully resting his head on Garak's shoulder. regardless of whether or not he wants it there.]

Do you have something sharp, sweetheart?

[parricida]

Always.

[And lo and behold, he does have a blade in his hand, a pretty looking thing, small and quite sharp.]

Shall I give you a hand, or can you do it yourself?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

I'll handle this, thank you.

[he stops leaning, picks up the knife with the graceful familiarity of someone who's held quite a few in his time... takes a moment to admit it, of course, before he very casually slices down into the meaty part of his own palm.

it looks like it hurts. maybe not as much as it should hurt a normal person, but he sets his jaw and breathes out with intent while blood spews up from the wound, dripping down the side of his hand.

he lifts the blade with a sigh, setting it carefully down on the table next to his drink.]

Now, if you will observe, please...

[parricida]

Oh, Robin . . .

[He sounds far too entranced by the pool of blood in Robin's hand, but Garak is watching patiently.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[he's a charmer, what can he say. he smothers down the rest of his nerves with some nice, even breathing (his body thinks its in trouble, cut open like that) while the magic slowly sets to work.

that blood of his slows down, stops dripping. it almost looks like time starts ticking backwards, the way the pretty rivulets of blood start crawling backwards towards the open wound. his blood, for lack of a better description, is being pulled back into his body.

he lowers his hand towards the knife and the small puddle on the table--that blood lifts, as if magnetized, back in the direction of the cut. the sliced flesh is nice and slanted, so Garak gets to watch tiny strands of red stitch and rebuild from the inside, pulling his skin back together, as if alive.

it's pretty creepy. Robin even flexes hand to disrupt and tear the process, but his blood works around it, stitches him up anyway. soon, the last of it has soaked into his skin and there's nothing red left on the table or his palm. the skin doesn't even stay shiny and irritable like new flesh should--it fades to older, unremarkable skin in seconds.]

[parricida]

Now that is a trick, my dear.

[He watches with clear interest. Shockingly, he's not repulsed by the display, simply fascinated-- it's certainly a useful skill, though he can't quite understand how it works medically speaking.]

Do try not to ire someone enough for them to hire an assassin-- I can only imagine how frustrated they might get.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[and, you know, he's in a good mood--and it's an interesting sort of people who look at his grotesque little tricks without recoiling in fear or disgust. it's very endearing. he flexes his fingers, waving cheerily at Garak to show that they're all still working.]

Oh, I've seen it. It's very funny, to see the look on their face when I get back up again.

[parricida]

[He takes his hand and runs his thumb over Robin's palm-- teasingly, yes, but he also wants to physically examine where the cut was.]

Now, how is it done, hm?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[oh, he'll just enjoy being the center of his attention.]

That's a trade secret.

[parricida]

Oh, you must give me a hint, at least.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Hm... You've already met my sisters.

[which must be the hint, since Garak has not actually met anyone who could be considered "Robin's sister", much less more than one of them. he leans back in his chair a little, picking up his glass with his unoccupied hand.]

[parricida]

Your brother, perhaps. Your sisters, less so, unless you have a rather different definition of the term.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[he shakes his head.] I don't, but I'm not wrong.

[parricida]

Do tell, then, sweetness.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[he shakes his head again.] That was my hint.

[parricida]

Ah, well, dearest, I'll simply keep it to myself, then, shall I? And slowly parse out other hints as we go along.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Attaboy. [he... drains the rest of his drink.] You'll just have to keep finding excuses to come talk to me.

[parricida]

Oh, as if I need an excuse when you've such a charming personality.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[giggles.] You're sweet. I'm flattered.