By this point, Soul is done with Alaska.
And he's done with trekking through the forest for twelve hours a day only to come up empty-handed—or worse, finding things that fuck with his brain so well he still feels like his it's juice. It's not been a fun time. Sure, he's covered a lot of ground, and his mission should be wrapping up soon, but that vest sitting in a zip lock bag in his luggage feels like a time bomb waiting to go off. He's only glad that he'd not have to deal with anything bigger than that.
An eerie chill runs down his spine, and he thinks, Spoke too soon.
The trail he'd been following has led him to a part of the forest that's cordoned off wire fences and big, red signs that scream RESTRICTED. Naturally, he'd gone right in. Now he's starting to understand why. This part is the creepiest he's encountered so far; while every part of the forest had been creepy in the typical huge-cold-empty-forest kinda way, this place takes the crown.
The air is colder here, and even the color scheme changed from green and earthy to blue and cold, like something is sucking the warmth out of the place. His senses are on high alert, like anything can jump him at any moment, and while he has yet to encounter anything more dangerous than a very friendly deer, he's convinced this place could spawn anything.
Trying to make as little sound as possible and failing miserably, he pushes through the dense clump of trees before he arrives at the edge of a short cliff. Looking over, he finds a path downward and lowers himself to climb down. He's surprised that he's doing fine— until he's not, and he falls hard, right on his ass.
It hurts, but there's no one around to complain to, so he swears, brushes dirt off his pants and bravely soldiers on. The trees here are massive—tallest and widest he's ever seen. Which is a given since living in a desert, trees aren't exactly common; and after four days in this forest, he's sure he won't want to see another one for a long time anyway.
His eyes catch on the biggest one in the clearing, and something about it feels… fascinating. He starts toward it, only to trip on an unseen root. He stumbles, catching himself before he falls flat, and mutters a string of curses under his breath. When he makes it to the tree, he looks up to see the top, but it's impossible. These trees don't just feel like old, dusty trees— they are alive, ancient, and somehow Soul knows they have been watching over this place for a long time.
He moves from tree to tree, marveling at the sheer size and presence of each one. They are all unique; the patterns on their bark almost seem like writings in some ancient language, or scars. He can't stop himself, going from one tree to another to examine each of them. It takes him longer than it should to realize he's been walking the same circle over and over.
Right at the middle of the trees is an unnatural clearance, so precise and symmetrical that it feels surreal. Why didn't I notice that before? He thinks as he walk towards the center.
Looking around towards the trees, everything takes on a dreamy quality there. It's blurry, and the ground underneath his feet doesn't feel solid anymore. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes to snap himself out of the haze, but it proves pointless.
His instincts are screaming at him to get out of there, he can feel the adrenaline rushing from his head to toes, and his body is getting ready to run; but this must be what he's been looking for, right? With all these over-the-top reactions his body is having, there must be something around here.
The trees sway at the edge of his vision as he turns his head, looking desperately for something significant. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking some deep breaths to calm his racing heart and willing himself calm. It barely works. When he opens his eyes, the trees seemed to have moved inward, almost reaching for him.
He feels is skin prickle; the forest is silent, holding its breath, anticipating his next move. Next thing he knows, he's on his hands and knees, panting hard as his body struggles to get enough oxygen. Every nerve in his body screams to run, but he can't. Something is here—something important—and if he leaves, he might never find it again.
Then he notices it. The ground beneath his hands feels warm. He's in a rainforest in Alaska, and the ground he's on feels warm. That can't be right. He starts to brush the dirt away frantically and is met with roots of the trees surrounding the area. Quickly transforming his hand to a scythe, he tries to cut one of them.
It cuts easily, with a gross, wet sound; but the second his blade touches the root his ears start to ring, and he swears the trees are inching closer. Panic is running through his veins, he still can't breathe properly, and these trees are going to eat him if he doesn't do something to protect himself soon, but he can't leave, not before figuring out what it is that's hidden here.
Which after a couple of cuts he finds out. It's a metal hatch, still halfway buried within the roots. Unlike any metal he's touched, it's radiating warmth. Soul hesitates for only a second, wondering about the implications of the warmth and the possible dangers that await down below, but then he grabs on to the first step of the ladder he's found.
To make sure he doesn't get locked in there somehow, he tries to stick a branch between the hatch lid and the ground, and shudders when he notices something very off-putting. The branches were almost shiny, mossy green when he was cutting them. This one is black and red, like it's bleeding, dying. Trying not to think about it, he continues to climb down, and it's not too far below that he steps on solid ground.
It's still hard to breathe, but he doesn't have to pant down here, at least. The only light in the room comes through the slit in the hatch lid, other than that it's pitch black. Thankfully he's prepared, and he takes out his flashlight from his pack to see around. It's only a small, circular room with another metal door, the walls are covered with moss, and they faintly glow after the light leaves them. He moves to the door, trying to open it and the handle is even warmer than the lid.
The door opens without any fight, and he's welcomed by what seems to be someone's hideout built inside a cave. Soul squints to see around the room; as he moves the flashlight around, the walls have more things lighting up like the branches, but they seem to be writing. Runes, maybe. He moves to one of the symbols, touching its edge only to see it's something wet. It's not dripping, it's stuck in place but still wet. Shivering at the feeling, he tries touching a few more of them before moving to the center of the room where a huge table rests with various metal sheets, rusty tools and lots of parchment paper sprawled on it.
He takes one of the parchments, and nothing on it makes any sense to him. It's all gibberish and drawings of some cube. Maybe someone had been trying to build something that's cube shaped? That could be made from metal sheets, he guesses, and takes a few moments more to confirm that he doesn't understand shit. He definitely doesn't.
Naturally, he places the flashlight on the table, takes out his phone, and starts to take pictures. Technology is awesome, because he's not smart enough to figure these out even if he spends an eternity here without a clear dictionary, but Kid probably could. Or Maka.
Not the time to think about Maka, he admonishes himself as he shakes his head to kick the thought of her out of his mind. But it's hard, especially because she would probably love to be here right now to understand what's going on, the little nerdling.
His mind still on Maka, trying to guess what she's doing at that moment, he keeps on taking pictures of the parchments one by one, when he notices a notebook. Bingo. It's covered by blue leather, it's also very thick, looks written in; it's probably a journal or a logbook or contains some kind of a translation of whatever is going on here. He reaches for it, flipping the pages with his thumb, but it's completely empty. Not one spot of ink on any of the pages, it almost seems like it's been put there as a distraction. Or someone abandoned this place before they could enter anything on it.
But it seems written in, his mind persists as he contemplates leaving it, the pages are wrinkled around the edges and some parts of the paper is raised. It feels off, so in his pack it goes. He continues sorting through the stuff on the table, when his hand stumbles on something. A key. To where, though? It doesn't look like there is another room that is connected to this one, but when he uses the flashlight to look around, he does notice a door covered almost completely by soil and moss.
Deciding the table can wait, he puts his pack back on, and moves towards the door. Transforming his hand again, he clears more of the roots and moss covering the door, and watches as the roots fall to the floor, and turn to hues of black and red; but he hadn't noticed the smell it made before. His stomach jumps, and he has to swallow back a little puke; it smells like death, rot, decay, and also a little like rotten eggs.
Covering his mouth and nose with the hand he transforms back, he places the key into the lock he finds, but it doesn't turn. After trying a couple of times, flipping the key over twice, he pulls the key back and places it in his pocket, before trying to handle.
Like the first one, the door opens easily, with a loud, old groan which Soul echoes. There must be more than just these two rooms here, might even be a whole network, like an ant colony. He just wants to go back home, at that point. But something keeps pulling him in.
Soul points the flashlight around, trying to figure out the edges, and sees some columns scattered around the room, as well as some of the symbols from the other room again, but they are far as the room is bigger than the one before. Walking along the walls would be his best choice at finding the next door, so he turns right, and places his hand on the wall to not miss anything. Only after a couple steps, he stops immediately upon hearing something that resembles a groan.
Soul flips the flashlight around the room, trying to find the source, when he hears another sound.
"This place…" It's humanoid, but has a distorted tone that sends chills down his spine. "Where is she?"
He locates both at the same time: the creature, and the door. The creature is… sitting? In front of the door, almost like it was put there to guard it. It's covered in moss like almost everything in this hideout, with mushroom-like objects sprouting from what Soul assumes are its shoulders. As it stands up it stumbles, and it's so tall that it almost hits the ceiling, with arms almost the same height as the body. And it glows. It's a soft, green light that the creature gives off.
It's probably the witch's doing, Soul assumes, and that this thing probably used to be human, somehow. He feels bad for it for a moment, as it scans around with its huge, insect-like eyes, but it only lasts until the eyes lock on Soul, and the thing starts very slowly walking towards him.
"Who are you?" It sounds confused when he starts asking the string of questions. "Where is she? She told me to stay here. Where is she?"
Soul decides then that he won't answer the creature, it looks dangerous with its weird form, and its confusion could help him defeat it. So he immediately drops his pack, transforms his arm back to a scythe; keeping the flashlight in his other hand, he lunges at the creature to strike first.
The thing shows off its reflexes when it lifts an arm up as Soul runs toward it, and while he manages to land a hit, one branch grazes his left arm, and it cuts.
He hisses at the unexpected pain, and jumps right back to get out from its range, but the branches still reach for him, and it seems they could get even longer. Soul jumps from side to side as the creature attacks, the branches coming at him faster and faster with every try. Not being able to dodge anymore when two shoots out at the same time, he brings his scythe arm in front of him to block, and when the branch is being retreated, he cuts it.
"Bring her back! Why hasn't she returned?"
The creature lets out a cry, and Soul notices the branch turning black and red liquid dripping to the floor. Confused with how he can see the color so clearly, he looks around the room to see the walls have lit up by the moss, almost like it came alive with the creature. Now seeing the columns more clearly, an idea strikes him, and as the next branch starts coming towards him, he runs around a column, before cutting the creature again.
Like he guessed, the dead branch is still attached to the creature, and he goes with the same strategy, quickly moving around multiple columns to get it tangled between them. The creature walks faster now, trying to catch up with Soul but he keeps cutting the branches to try to trap it inside the columns. "She said it would make the pain stop!" the creature wails as he cuts a particularly wide branch. "She told me to guard it! She told me it'd make me forget!"
Soul manages to bring it to the center of the room, where it stops walking around to just keep sending its arms towards him, faster and wider branches catching him a couple of times. The creature seems to have awoken completely, as one branch goes for his leg instead of his chest like the others did, and it takes Soul by surprise, making him fall. "She'll come back! She told me she'd help me!"
A branch tries to bash his head in as he rolls to get up, and he barely escapes it, getting a scratch on his face from some stones on the ground as he turns. He gets up, and sees the creature properly stuck in the center of the room, and he starts running toward it, transforming his other hand into a scythe as well.
Clean cut right in the chest ends it, as the branches bleed and die all around him, the room starts going dark again, and he groans, completely grossed out when the liquid covers his clothes and hair. It's sticky and warm, almost feels like a real blood, and the fact is confirmed when, through the branches, a red soul appears. A kishin egg. It was human at some point. Soul stands there for a moment, staring at the soul wondering how long it's been here, who it was before. What had happened that made it so desperate for this witch's magic?
She said it would make the pain stop. She said it would make me forget.
As the light from the moss on the walls start to die with the creature, he hears a deep rumble, probably the sound of the magic that protects the place, the magic that transformed this person into this lifeless mass, crumbling.
He takes the soul, and places in his mouth but it doesn't have the usual marvelous taste of a kishin egg, the whole situation has left a sour taste in his mouth. Swallowing, he moves to get his pack back from the ground and takes the key back out from his pocket. The door that the creature was protecting opens easily, leading Soul into a room that has sunlight. There is a metal grid on the ceiling, and he takes a deep, relieved breath as the light hits his face.
Looking around the room, he finds multiple things of interest, lots of posters on the walls, similar to the parchments he's found in the first room, some more cube shaped objects of many different sizes on another table, and a box sitting in the middle of it all. The box calls to Soul, and he takes it to his hand to examine it.
A small vibration in the ground grasps his attention for a moment, but he guesses it's normal, he's underground with magical trees and moss. Vibrations usually come with magic, anyways.
The first thing he notices about it is that it's completely symmetrical. It's a black box with white and gold designs swirling around the edges as well as a perfectly symmetrical symbol right in the middle of it. It feels powerful in his hands somehow, though stationary. There is no lock or latch, so he opens it, and gasps loudly.
He'd recognize that goofy mask anywhere. It's a piece of Lord Death's mask, sitting on top of a red velvet cushion.
That would explain the symmetry of the box, he thinks, but what is it doing here? Is this what Kid sent me to retrieve?
It seems plausible that he did, Soul is sure this mask holds great power, but how would it have ended up here in the first place? This needs to go back to Kid as fast as possible, he decides. Closing the box as gently as possible, he places it next to the notebook he found. And that's when he feels the ground shaking again, and hears a distant rumble.
If there is one thing he knows about Alaska, it's that it's cold. The second would be that there's lots of earthquakes happening here. His heart threatens to stop for a moment.
Frantically, he starts gathering some of the papers from the walls, squeezing them into his pack as the ground starts shaking faster and faster. He manages to take a small cube as well, stuffing it in alongside the parchments. He hears a loud slam then, and decides that it's definitely time to leave if he doesn't want to be buried there.
Soul pushes the table right under the grid and props a chair on top, his hands trembling as the ground below him shakes violently. He manages to climb on top of the makeshift platform, gripping the grid with all the strength he has left.
It's heavier than he expected, and he almost loses his balance twice, but he manages to push it aside just enough to pull himself through. With a strained yell, he pulls himself up, kicking the chair in the process as the whole forest quakes.
His elbows are sore, and he thanks many deities that he's been training his upper body or else he could have never been able to pull himself up like that. He starts running, trying to gauge which direction he came from, and he runs by the circle of trees that prompted him to go down there, now all black and dead.
Soul barely remembers how he made it back to the hotel, and the rest of that evening is blurry patches of flashes; stumbling into his room, dropping his pack onto the floor and collapsing right next to it.
He remembers the overwhelming need to leave and pulling out his phone with trembling hands to look for a plane ticket back home; he was lucky enough to find a flight back in just a couple hours. Or the universe had decided that he'd suffered enough for one week, and cut him some slack.
Booking the flight, rinsing off, gathering his stuff from around the room had taken at most half an hour, he hadn't even let himself sit down as passing out and missing the flight was a real possibility, and he couldn't risk it. He doesn't remember anything about how he made it on the plane, but somehow he had, and the ride back was just 5 hours of nervous hell.
Now, it's almost midnight in Nevada, and he's finally in front of the DWMA but the nerves haven't left him yet. He wants a proper shower, he wants answers and he wants to see Maka.
His hand tightens around the strap of his pack as he enters the hallway, and the eerie energy of the academy at night reminds him of the forest. Soul shakes his head to get rid of the thought, reminding himself that he's not comparing vibes right now, as he makes his way to the Death Room.
The moment Soul steps into the room, he feels a little more grounded at the familiarity. The Death Room is as bright blue and symmetrical as always, and Kid is right there, waiting for him next to the floating mirror in his casual clothes. Stein is there too, sitting on the chair behind the desk, missing only his white labcoat. They've been waiting for him, he'd called Kid to let him know he's back as soon as he'd landed. The smell of cigarettes is already lingering in the room.
"Welcome back," Kid starts when he sees Soul, "You are earlier than we anticipated. Did you find something?"
With a sigh, Soul swings his pack off his shoulders to place it on the desk. "You could say that," he answers. Stein lifts his eyes from the desk to look at him, and a s sad smile blooms on his face.
"You look like you've crawled out of a grave."
Soul rolls his eyes so hard his head spins. "Sounds about right." he grumbles as he opens his pack and starts taking out the items he'd stuffed in there. "I found… some stuff. Nothing I could piece together though. I thought you might. I took pictures of the ones I couldn't grab."
Kid nods with partial focus, "Good thinking. What do they say?" he asks as he takes a parchment in his hand. His gaze is sharp and focused as he studies it, before picking up another one in his other hand.
Soul tries to keep his voice even, but exhaustion still seeps into his words as he sighs out, "Notebook's blank, but the pages feel like they've been written on. Parchments, I have no clue, though." he pushes his hand through his hair to help quell the headache he feels coming on.
Stein takes the notebook, flipping through its empty pages. His finger trails over the surface of one, his expression contemplative. "Residual impressions," he murmurs. "Could mean something, could mean nothing. We'll see."
Kid's attention shifts to the small metal cube Soul places on the desk, comparing it to the drawings on the parchment. The symmetry of the thing seems to have grabbed his interest.
"There's more," Soul says, his voice low. He reaches into his pack and pulls out the zip-lock bag. "You already know about the vest, but since you were so suspicious over the phone—here." He slides it across the desk towards Kid.
"I'm not suspicious of you, I just meant the witch might have just planted it." He explains, taking the bag from the desk and wincing hard at the sight of blood. His OCD must be killing him right now, Soul thinks, and he swears his inner voice snickers at Kid's discomfort. "Tell us about the vision you had again, please."
So, Soul recounts everything that he felt and heard when he touched the vest for the first time, and adds that he can't remember how he got his scar too; like someone carved an empty space in his mind where that memory used to be, and the way the vest caused him pain is exactly the way his scar must've hurt when he's gotten it.
"I guessed at the time that the witch is trying to play tricks on my mind by placing Maka in the middle of my mission, that somehow, she knows details about me and her and is using her to get to me. But how can I not remember the giant scar that I got in the middle of my chest?" He places his elbows on the desk, leaning his head on his hands for a moment.
Stein leans back in his chair, his gaze flickering across the pages of the notebook. "Good question," he says quietly.
Soul lifts his head back up. "I have one more thing, and you're not going to like it."
This grabs both of their attention, and he explains as he reaches his hand to his pack once more, "I found this in the deepest room," The room stills as he places the box on the desk, the other two seem to be holding their breaths at the sight of it. "It was being guarded by some kind of creature. Used to be human, I think." He trails off for a moment, his gaze glued to the box. "Its soul was a kishin egg."
Stein leans forward, the faintest flicker of unease crossing his face. "What happened to it?"
"Dead now," Soul deadpans, "But it kept talking. Kept asking about some lady. Said she promised to help. Make it forget, take the pain away."
Kid's expression hardens, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he opens the box, takes a look at its contents before closing it back, as well as his eyes as he places it back on the desk. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before speaking.
"You've done well. What you've brought back is significant, but it's only part of the picture. There's more we need to find out."
Soul frowns. "So, what now? You sending me back out?"
"Not yet," Kid says firmly. "You need to focus on training with Maka. Resonance. This mission has shown that you going alone is not an option anymore."
Soul straightens, the weight of the words sinking in. "You think Maka and I can fix this?"
"I think you two are some of the best I've got, and I'm wasting your talents sending either of you out alone." Kid replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This witch is more dangerous than we anticipated, Soul. To have this without any one of us even noticing… Start training with Maka as soon as possible. We need to be ready for what's coming."
Stein exhales a thin stream of smoke, smirking. "Kid's right. Your potential as partners is promising, but potential's nothing if it's not sharpened. Start practicing. You'll need it."
Soul's fingers clench into fists at his sides. He doesn't like being left in the dark, but he knows enough to trust that Kid isn't exaggerating the danger. "Fine," he mutters. "I'll train."
Kid nods, his gaze steady. "Good. You're dismissed."
Soul nods, slinging his pack over his shoulder before moving to the door. He wants to go home, shower about seven times and sleep for at least forty-eight hours straight, but not before seeing her.
It's almost one in the morning when he's standing in front of Maka's door, and he hesitates before knocking. He'd spent some time outside her building, trying to figure out which windows are hers and if there are any lights on. To his luck, every house on her floor has at least one light on and he won't have to suffer her wrath for waking her up… Probably.
In the end he knocks— only lightly, because he's still scared— but almost as if she'd been expecting him, the door opens in a few moments. It's either that her voice is breathless when she mutters his name in surprise, or he just wants to hear it like that— but it doesn't matter. She looks so adorable with her pigtails and huge sweatshirt and the longing look in her eyes, which he just might be imagining again, that he just lets himself in, almost throws his pack to the floor and wraps her up in his arms.
She lets out a shocked yelp as he pushes her in a little bit more and closes the door behind him with his foot. When she hugs him back with tiny arms around his waist, he lets out the most relieved sigh ever. He squeezes her more, almost lifting her off the ground and making her squeal, before whispering, "I've missed you."
Maka nuzzles her face into his chest, her cheek resting right on top of his racing heart when she answers with the tiniest murmur. "I've missed you too."
They stay like that for a moment, before Maka pulls back to look at him, one of Soul's hands moving to her hip as she does so. Her eyes run across his face, her jaw tightening when she notices the wounds on his cheek and neck from the fight with the tree-creature-thing.
"Nothing hurts," he interrupts her examination, softly squeezing her hip, before she can start complaining about how he should be more careful on missions. "Just sore and tired from all the walking and climbing."
She nods, her eyes squinting just a little as she moves her hand to the wound to his neck, the tips of her fingers feather light on his tender skin as she moves them over it. Just to mess with her, he hisses as if in pain, and when her hand jumps away and her eyes come up to his all wide and panicky, a huge grim shows up on his face.
She hits his arm. He knows he'd deserved it. His smile even widens when she does it.
They stand there for a moment, taking each other in after almost a week of not seeing each other, and lightly rubbing each other's backs, arms, necks, faces… Anywhere that doesn't cross any obvious boundaries.
Soul breaks the moment, slightly leaning into whisper in her ear, "May I kiss you, Maka?" He hears her breath catch at his request, her hands tightening around his wrist and sweater as she nods slowly.
He looks at her face as she awaits the kiss; eyes closed, lips slightly pursed, the prettiest blush dusting her cheeks, and thinks about how right he had been to be obsessed with her for so many years. She's absolutely perfect.
So, obviously he has to annoy her. Placing only a peck on her lips, he leans back with a huge, shit-eating grin, waiting for her reaction. She opens her eyes, confused at first, her pursed lips turning downwards in a frown when she notices he's messing with her.
That is, until a mischievous gleam starts in her eyes and the corners of her mouth just slightly turn upwards, he can see she's trying her best to keep her face straight. "Well," she starts, slowly unentangling herself from him. "Your call." Now, she can't help the grin as she squirms to move away from him as he tries to hold her, eyes so clearly challenging him.
It's his turn to frown, and he keeps chanting no as he manages to grab her arms, pulling her right back into his body and smashes his mouth to hers. Despite all the messing with each other, the kiss is slow and deep, and their hands go back to wandering around each other the moment their lips meet.
She's kissing him back and oh death, it feels amazing to be kissing her again. Whenever they do this, it's very comfortable and heartwarming for Soul, like this is what they were supposed to do in the first place. He loves the way her small body feels against him, her hands exploring the planes of his back and his hair, the way she tastes —tea and sugar, she must have been studying— and don't even get him started on the little sighs she makes.
The only thing he doesn't like is that pain on his neck and back. Leaning down to kiss her is great in theory, her being so small is extremely endearing, but the reality just hurts and soils the moment for Soul.
To rectify the situation as well as prolong it, he takes a slow step back towards where he thinks (assumes) the couch is, and Maka just moves with him without a reaction. So, he takes another step, and then another, and it seems he's pushed her luck when she lets out a small gasp of his name, and looks right into his eyes.
"Just, my neck hurts and I don't wanna stop yet." He answers before she asks, moving one of his hands to her neck. "Is that okay?" It seems unsure as he nods, and he's about to call the thing off and ask to talk before her hands get placed on his chest to lightly push him back.
He holds her hands as he lets her lead him to the couch, and falls on it with an 'oof' when she pushes. Maka sits next to him gingerly, prim and proper as she usually is, and he kinda wishes that she'd take a seat on him instead.
But beggars can't be choosers, and he'd definitely beg if she asked. So, he tables the need to get as close to her as humanly possible, grabs her chin and pulls her closer by her waist, looking deep into her eyes for a minute before kissing her again.
This kiss is all soft groans and deep inhales, both trying to breathe the other in as they slowly let their tongues entwine. Her hands go into his hair to pull at them lightly, and Soul softly nibbles her bottom lip as a response. When she moans into his mouth, it's euphoric.
Maka pulls back, and he mourns the loss of her mouth for a moment, before the way she looks then takes over any thought that might occur in his mind; chest heaving and eyes hazy, fingers still languidly playing with his hair as she whispers. "Your neck still hurt?"
The question makes him smile; her voice is higher in pitch than normal but much calmer, and with the way she's searching his eyes he knows that she's looking for a genuine answer. "Yeah, actually," he rubs her cheek with his thumb when he answers. "How come you're so tiny?"
Maka rolls her eyes to another dimension at his grin, and an emotion that resembles determination cuts her face. "The neck pain could easily be fixed," she remarks and moves so quickly that he doesn't see it happening at first; but then her weight registers on his lap and it registers.
That does solve the problem, in a very, very agreeable way. He thinks, as he caresses her legs and waist with his fingers. Her cami had slid upwards in their ministrations, so he can feel just how hot her skin is. But it might create a different problem…
His hands stay like that for a few minutes, before moving to her hair to undo her pigtails. No idea why he has such a fixation on them, but no one cares about that at that moment. "These must be killing you, why didn't you take them out?" he mutters, making sure to not get her hair tangled in the tie as he takes it off. She lets out a satisfied sigh when the first tie comes off. "It's almost two AM."
Running his hands through her hair once, he starts to massage her scalp where the ties were torturing her, probably pulling on her hair and digging into her skull. She lets out a little hum as she explains, "I forgot I had them." When her eyes slowly close, he increases the pressure, and her head rolls back as a response. "Oh, that feels so nice."
She feels nice, he feels like he could fly, and he wants to kiss her neck. How can he not, when porcelain skin stretches so deliciously right in front of his face? He places a soft peck first, when she whines out his name, he echoes it as a groan and latches on.
Trailing open mouthed kisses up and down her neck, sucking slightly as he moves one of his hands to her legs, rubbing mindless patterns as she melts more and more into his hands. He cradles the back of her head, and drags his teeth lightly across her skin.
Her shiver is immediate when the tips of his teeth touch her neck, and he places a light kiss under her ear before nibbling the lobe, producing the shiver again, this time gifting him a desperate whimper, too. He grins, speaking right to her ear when he says, "Yeah? That feel good?"
The quality of his own voice is surprising, raspy and low, but Maka doesn't seem to mind as she nods fervently and whispers, "Yeah." Her eyes are still shut tightly, neck still bent, and he can see a hickey blooming where his lips just were.
Soul's delight is immeasurable at the sight, having left a mark on her otherwise perfect skin makes him feel special. He doesn't tell her about it, worrying that she might stop everything and kill him. At that moment he could die happy, though, his only wish would be having a similar mark on himself.
He leans back in to give her more kisses on the other side of her neck now, careful this time because one hickey he could get away with, but the second one would definitely get him to die by Maka. But the angle is awkward at best, they are both bending in ways that aren't natural, so he pulls at her legs and gets her to straddle him.
His hands land on her thighs, fingertips going under her shorts just slightly as he squeezes them and hers are crossed behind his neck; one going into his hair and the other into his sweater, just like they were at the party. Their eyes lock and they hold the contact for a while before her lips find his.
Soul's mouth parts in a hiss when she runs her nails across his back and scalp, and she uses the opportunity to force her tongue into his mouth. She's being so assertive, and it gives him the courage to do the same. He inches his hands up her sides and then under her sweatshirt on her bare back, thumbs only grazing the sides of her breasts.
They both pull back, her to gasp out his name; him to ask, "Can I?" It's a couple minutes of staring in each other's eyes before Soul moves his hands back to her hips; he'd never seen Maka scared so far, but if he had, this would be the look on her face.
But when he removes his hands from her sweatshirt that same look of determination crosses her face, and he opens his mouth to tell her to not force herself…
Then she takes it off.
If he had trouble controlling himself before, now it is impossible. His eyes jump out of their sockets with a loud groan as he takes her in, yep, he has a problem now. He wants to save this moment in his memory forever; the girl of his dreams sitting on top of him, upper half completely naked, with a flush that reaches her perfect breasts. How can someone be so adorable and hot at the same time?
Slowly, forcing himself to at least try to play this cool, he reaches a hand to cup her breast. She starts singing a song of sighs and soft moans, and he knows that he's going to have to stop soon, or his arousal will get to irreversible degrees. A thumb runs over her nipple, and Maka arches her back, leaning into his touch, grinding herself on his erection in the process.
They both let out loud moans at the contact, she's watching him with half lidded eyes when he opens his, and they come to a silent understanding. Maka, somehow her blush increasing, starts to grind down on his cock and oh Death he's so going to cream his pants and it's going to be amazing. She seems to agree as her moans get louder with each grind, her hands guiding his back to her chest.
Suddenly, his hands aren't enough anymore; he leans in to kiss across her collarbones before moving down, until he gets to her chest and peppers the same small kisses around each breast, hearing some complaining rumbles as a response. He chuckles against her, and watches as her body shudders when he runs his tongue over her nipple. The small hands running down his chest halt when he sucks on it, and she almost yells his name.
Soul's hips buck involuntarily, a hand on her ass –he has no idea how it got there, but he likes it– forcing her body down on his when he does so, and another chorus of moans escape their mouths. "Fuck, Maka," he breathes, and the hand that's not groping her at that moment moves to her chin, pulling her face towards his, and kissing her hard.
Maka can barely kiss him back, mostly just moaning and whimpering into his mouth instead. He doesn't mind, she sounds like a beautiful song, he can listen to her all day. Small hands tug on the hem of his sweater, trying to get him take it off but he's not having it. He's having the time of his life kissing, licking, nibbling on any part of her he can, and doesn't want to stop any time soon.
One hand still on his sweater, the second runs into his hair to forcefully pull his head from its place on her neck before tugging on the hem again. "Off," she orders and with how good the hair pulling felt and now listening to her orders so dutifully, he needs to reconfirm his kinks and fantasies.
Uttering a yes, ma'am, he pulls the sweater off as fast as he can, her hands immediately moving to his chest to touch him, rubbing all over his chest and he doesn't even get any oxygen anymore. He bites back a groan when her nails scratch down his chest.
And then they halt.
His eyes had closed at some point, and waits for her to move for a minute before opening them. When he does, though, he's not greeted by a welcome sight. Instead, one of her hands is clasped on her mouth, the other is tracing his scar softly, and her eyes are rimmed with tears.
Panic runs through his entire body in a fraction of a second, and he rubs her shoulders softly, trying to catch her eyes but they are only focused on his scar.
"Maka, what's wrong?" he asks, just to be sure, but with the way she seems so shaken by his scar he has an idea.
"What," she begins, but the wave of tears starts running down her cheeks and she trails off. "What caused that, Soul?"
The question is loaded with emotion, and his heart breaks, his voice shaking as he speaks. "I don't know. I don't remember."
Her eyes jump back up to his, "I think… Did I cause this, somehow?" She sounds so choked, fresh tears forming in her eyes every time one falls.
"Why do you think so?" he asks, as gently as he can but he has to know now. This is not a reaction he'd expected, but now that he has, the need to get an answer is pressing.
She doesn't answer him for some time, he lets her process anything that comes to mind as she sits on top of him, still naked, he realizes. He grabs the sweatshirt from the back of the couch where it had ended up, and gently dresses her, keeping one hand on the small of her back to draw what he hopes are soothing patterns on her skin.
"Talk to me, Maka. What's going on?" he nudges, her eyes are wide and shocked when she looks at him and replies, "I caused this. I saw you get slashed by some pink haired girl. A black sword. You were protecting me, weren't you?"
He sighs and starts running a hand through her hair, "I don't remember anything like that." He says, pausing for a moment to nod at her when she raises her eyebrows, unbelievingly. "Yeah. This is what I meant when I said I found something that reminds me of you. I think this is somehow the witch's doing."
Her palm rests right on her chest as she shakes his head, for some reason not believing a word he said. "It's true. Look, Maka, I can't remember anything about how I got this scar, and now you think you caused it. We've never even been on a mission together, right?" he moves his hand on top of hers to squeeze it, push it into his chest even more.
She doesn't reply, so he keeps explaining, he has to get it in her head somehow. "You wanna know what I found in that forest? A vest, covered completely in blood." Her eyes are questioning him, so he continues. "A yellow vest covered in blood that made me hear you screaming when I touched it, Maka."
If her eyes get any bigger, they will pop out, she opens her mouth to speak but no voice comes out and she forgets to blink for a good couple of minutes. "The witch is playing with us, I have no idea why it's us specifically, but it's my theory."
Finally blinking, she straightens her lips as she nods, and he slowly moves her from her position on top of him back to the couch. "Look, I hate saying this, but we need to think about this with clear heads. Let's just try to sleep on it, and tomorrow morning we can meet up and talk theories, alright?" He gets up, slowly taking her hand to lead her up as well.
She does, but doesn't move when he pulls her. Eyes still producing tears, "Can you stay?" she asks, so quietly he almost doesn't catch it.
He squeezes her hand, "Are you sure you want me to?" Her nod is quick and fast, and it's enough to convince him.
"Yeah, then no one can make me leave."