Welcome
This is the site for all works and information regarding the universe of James and Apollo, henceforth referred to as "Touch the Stars"!
All writing and art is done by me, @riverselkiesing !
Characters
Apollo, the merman with a gold heart and a wild soul. He travels both land and sea, wary yet courageous in the face of the world's dangers.
James, the kind sailor who is stronger than he appears, physically and otherwise. He sails the seas as first mate to his dear friend, Fredrick, and holds a sense of wonder to the ocean's mysteries.
Fredrick, the brave and beaten captain of the ship which James sails on. Through life's challenging storms, he has sailed his way through, and leads life to lead others.
Cara, a headstrong and loyal crewmate to James. Close friends with him, her sharp tongue is far from clue to her heart.
Works
Not Simply Fairy Tales
The first mini-series installment to the universe: the story of how Apollo and James first met.
(not fully posted)
AU Works
An Almost-Perfect Evening
Time away from palace life is a scarcely found luxury. When James finds himself with an entire evening and the ability to slip away, what better way to spend that than taking Apollo out for his favourite activity- dancing?
[ royal au ]
tw: drinking
Bracelet
While out on a hunt, James and his team run into more danger than anticipated- and, in the midst of the chaos, stumble across something they did not expect to find.
[ demon au ]
tws: unsettling imagery, description of violence, character is trapped
Chapter 1
tws: character is beached, character was previously held captive
The sea was calm, and the sun shone softly upon the sand. The breeze canceled out the heat from said sun, though the sailor walking upon those sands knew well enough that the cool breeze meant by no means that the sun had lost any of its power. Pulling down the brim of his cap at a bit more of an angle, he pockets the small carved flute he had previously been playing and continues along the way. A soft smile forms, shifting freckles out of their usual placement and causing a faint dimple to appear as he watches his company frolick across the beach.
Up ahead, a dog paused his frolicking to turn back and bark at it's owner, tail wagging almost aggressively. They had not been upon land for some time, the sea posing as their home for that while.
The man laughs, a warm sound that seemed to easily showcase how genuine he was. A laugh you do not often hear in life, for most are tainted by false amusement or ridicule. This one, though, hosted none of that.
Smile unfailing, he continues along the beach, his dog dashing back to circle him. Yipping up at the brunet, his loose fur is blown even further out of place by the breeze and his own rambunctious actions.
In the middle of this excitement, though, the dog halts. Nose tipping up, he sniffs at the wind.
"What is it, Requin?" the man prompts, kneeling down and observing. Before he can say or do much else, though, the canine is off, barking at some unknown subject as he races across the sand.
"What on earth-?" Dashing after Requin, boots losing traction against the uneven and soft surface of the sandy ground, the man has fallen behind rather quickly, as no amount of strength could cancel out the challenges of running across a beach. He can hear the dog making a commotion up ahead, though a bit more of a muffled one than usual. Even further confused than before, he still continues- and freezes as his dog returns into his field of vision. His dog, and his dog's new company.
Requin continued to bark at a quieter volume than normal, whining as James approached further.
Upon the sand near the dog, a seemingly unconscious form lie upon their stomach. Sprawled out across the dry land, they could have been assumed to be human- until sight was caught of the scales that appeared along the skin, body shifting just below the hips into a tail where a pair of legs should have been. Beautiful shades of red, the sun even glinting off of flecks of occasional gold colouring.
Dry colouring.
Forcing himself to overcome the awe that came along with the sight of a real merman, the sailor closed the gap with a few strides and fell to their side.
He had heard many stories of the merfolk, of their lands beneath the waves. Some good, some bad- all of the mysterious creatures of the sea.
"Treat the waves well," his mother had always told him. "Treat the folk of the ocean with respect, for you never know when you may need their aid."
He had followed those words, all through childhood and into adulthood. The sea was his second home, always calling to him. This calling, he had followed- it had brought him to his life on the waves, rising through stations through honest work, gaining friends and allies that he had yet to lose through his own doing. Even the captain to which he was first mate was a man that he had known for years- and both of them shared the same philosophy for respect for the ocean.
Their differences, however, lie in their beliefs of what lie within that ocean. The first mate's mother had filled his mind with tales of merfolk and sea monsters, of all creatures great and small that lived and thrived, of natural or mythical proportion and all in between. Merfolk that lived in societies similar to those of humans, who could even walk among those humans through their gift. The gift of shedding their tails for legs, a beautiful sash being all that remained of that tail while they walked upon the land. Little was known about those sashes- but they were certainly a prize to be won. Pirates and captains who had their luck of catching merfolk may strip them of their tail, bearing the sash as a show of their triumph. If these parts of the tales were true was debatable- perhaps only a lie for pirates to claim even more trophies than before and hold a triumphant story to accompany them.
The captain had similar thoughts- but believed that the sea was a force, and that the stories could very well be stories. Stories that held lessons and warnings, but until he held proof himself, they could very well still be just stories.
And what a story this would be to tell.
Merfolk were creatures of the water- and beaching had been said to be an effective way of killing them. Someone had clearly heard those stories, and was willing to put them to the test. The sailor, however, was determined to keep those results from being gathered.
Gathering his strength from years on the sea, working at ropes and wood on ships of various make and size, he turns the form to be with their chest upwards- and the brunet freezes once again.
The merfolk was clearly male, with a long scar dragging across his chest. That was not what had caused the human to freeze, though. His face- God, his face.
The merfolk were fabled to be supernaturally beautiful, but seeing it in person and so close was a different story entirely. Perfectly carved, as though for a statue, a soft face of pale skin with but a few scars nearby the outskirts was the only imperfection. What monster - human or otherwise - could dare have marred such a beautiful being? Blond curls framed this face, sand tangled into them due to his time on the beach.
Beach. The sailor's many and quick thoughts are shattered, thrown back to the task at hand. Requin barks, as though an on-cue reminder that they needed to hurry.
Summoning his strength once again, the brunet slides his arms under the merman, lifting him with ease, for the blond was surprisingly light, and heading for the shore. With no bother to take off his shoes, far too preoccupied, he wades into the shallows, carefully lowering the unconscious form into the salty water.
~~~
The glass was dirty. Fogged, from lack of cleaning, and the contents of the water. Partially filled with water, the balance of which shifted and lapped against the walls it was contained between. Walls that kept the water inside, walls that kept the contents inside.
It was precious cargo, after all.
Living cargo.
He had not slept in days. All energy was focused towards keeping himself alive, all time and thought dedicated towards finding a way out.
The tank was closed, for the most part, though the lid would occasionally be removed in order to supply more fresh air, scarce food, or simply for the entertainment of those who "owned" the tank.. and its contents. A prize, from their point of view. One for their usage- for personal entertainment, and, as almost seemed standard for people of this type, personal gain. An attraction, an extra source of money.
"Live Merman!", the sign stated.
The lid was sometimes removed then, when he was on display. Though he could easily change, turn to a human form and run, he knew it impossible. Everyone there did, which only added to the torture of having to see freedom so close and yet know it was unattainable. He could try, but the distance to the exit was too surrounded by those who were far stronger than he and could force him back into the tank with ease, where he would have to change back in order to save himself from drowning.
It was small.
Not only was it dirty, but the tank did not provide nearly enough room. He could hardly turn himself around, tail running against the glass any time he tried. His scales felt the pain, each time they rubbed against one of the surfaces.
He had cried. Once, under that shallow water. While his captors were all asleep. After all, in the water, no one can see your tears.
They were all kept in port for quite some time. The merman was a source of money, and there were many taverns and shops to spend that money at. Over time, though, everyone had already seen the creature, and business began to slow.
Loading back onto the same ship as before, the merman joined the cargo in the hold as the crew prepared to set sail once again. This had happened before. It was nothing new.
They left on a voyage. They sailed. The merman was occasionally given food and the moment's relief of a deep breath of the fresh air.
What made this journey different from others, was the day that the ship was attacked.
Chapter 2
tws: character is held capive, character is beached
Loading back onto the same ship as before, the merman joined the cargo in the hold as the crew prepared to set sail once again. This had happened before. It was nothing new.
They left on a voyage. They sailed. The merman was occasionally given food and the moment's relief of a deep breath of the fresh air.
What made this journey different from others, was the day that the ship was attacked.
The merman could hear the sudden slew of footsteps boarding the upper deck and the heavy cannonfire. Rocking violently, he had to steady himself in the water with a hand against the glass.
From the darkness of the area belowdecks, a sudden light floods in. The trapdoor was opened, and a group of men clambered down from the hatch. Searching through the crates and chests of belongings, they rummage through it all to claim the bounty of their attack.
Apollo's heart dropped when one of them caught sight of his tank.
Moving backward to be out of the light as much as possible, the merman knew it was a failed effort. The shine of his scales, even in the dim lighting, was as great a way to attract attention as if a pile of gold had been placed out.
It only took four men to carry the tank.
Five had gone belowdecks.
Sorting amongst themselves who was to carry which part, the water-laden case was lifted soon after. Apollo attempted to flip the lid off, to resist- but the efforts were to no avail. He was trapped, and no longer by the same crew. This time, it was not merchants, not conmen, but pirates.
Transferred to the new ship's deck along with hoards of stolen valuables, Apollo could do little but glare at the pirates, tail angrily flicking about in the water. Each time one of the crewmates would approach the glass, Apollo would retaliate in any way that he could.
Soon, a man of far nicer clothes (at least, by comparison) crouched in front of the tank. Tapping the glass, he bares his teeth in a wicked smile. "Quite the prize we've found 'ere, lads, ey?"
Smacking his tail against the glass, Apollo glares daggers at the captain. The crew cheers.
"Quite the pretty face, it's a shame he was hidden beneath the waves, innit? It's a good thing he's been put on display, then, just for us."
The tank was too heavy for Apollo to rock over on his own.
Knowing this did not stop him from trying.
Again, and again. Any method of escape, of making his frustration known, was attempted far more than once. When the pirates dared open the lid, Apollo had no hesitation to push himself up to leap at one of them. Quickly restrained by the arms, his tail became quite the formidable weapon.
It was only a matter of time before he was seen as more trouble than he was worth.
"If blondie wants to be so rebellious, why don't we show him the punishment for rebellion?" says the captain with a toothless grin.
Eyes widening and chest constricting, fear that Apollo had never felt before began to sink in.
There was an island not far away that trade routes did not pass near, where no man dared inhabit its cursed land.
The captain set a course.
~~~
Lowering the merman into the water, James holds him firmly. Wading deep enough for the being's tail to be submerged, James waits with bated breath for some sort of change.
Though the form had been nearly completely still, once their chest was in the water, the slits on the side of the skin near his rib cage under the surface, he appeared to draw deeper breaths.
The scales were smooth to the touch, and would likely have been slick had the merman not been left to dry. Able to feel the muscles under his hand, James is filled with a wave of relief as he can sense them begin to move on their own. The end of the tail, golds and pinks shimmering in the sun, began to slowly move about in the water.
Consciousness slowly beginning to return, the merman's eyes flutter open, refocusing upon the world around him.
Startled, the finned folk shoves himself away and out of the brunet's arms, tail forcefully propelling himself back. Eyes wide, their bright blue locks with James' dark brown. Chest heaving, the merman stays there for enough time to memorize the face of his presumed savior, and then disappears into the waves.
Collapsing backward, the shallows splash as James sits. Resting on wet sand, James releases a breath he had not realized he was holding in. Submerged in water up to his waist, he hardly feels the sensation of the waves rolling up against him. Numb. That was how he felt. Had that really just happened, or was it some hyper-realistic hallucination from the salt and sun?
Suddenly remembering that there was a ship waiting for him, the brunet returns to attention when he hears a voice calling for him from a distance. Turning his head and squinting, he can make out the figure of someone walking toward him, and the barking silhouette of Requin at their feet.
Sliding down a small hill and jogging the rest of the way, a man walks against the waves until he reaches James' side. Offering out a hand, he aids the other in standing. "Are you alright?" he asks, voice warm yet roughened from salty air. "We didn't know where you'd run off to- did something happen?"
Staring out into the waves until the jerking motion of being pulled up snapped him out of it, James faced the man next to him with a dazed gaze. "Yeah- yeah, Fredrick, I'm fine."
Brows furrowing, Fredrick keeps a firm grasp on James' arm as he leads him out of the shallows. "Are you sure?" he asks, skeptical. It took a great deal to send James into a state such as this, and that he knew for a fact.
Friends since their late teens, James and Fredrick had both held love for the ocean. Fredrick had set out first. James had followed soon after. After all, who better to work by each other's side than friends as close as brothers? Though with vastly different training, for Fredrick had served before captaining his own ship, the two worked in perfect unison. Moments like these, though, even as Fredrick studied James' face, he could not determine whar was wrong or what had happened.
"...you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I'd believe a lot of things, James, especially if it managed to put you in a state like this," Fredrick replies, trying to be lighthearted though genuine concern still showed through.
James shakes his head, out of denial along with trying to force his thoughts into functioning again. "...I'll tell you later."
"If you insist. Come on, though- we need to set sail again soon." Beginning to walk, he keeps his hand on James' arm, guiding him. "Come on, Requin."
Following without a second thought, James spares a glance back to the water, where he could have sworn he saw a flash of red against the waves.
Chapter 3
A day passed, activities returning to normal. Fredrick returned to captain his ship, and James returned to his post as first mate. The next evening, they both shared a seat at the table of the maproom, each seated across from the other. Lanterns that lit the room swung on their hooks, casting shadows that wove about.
From nowhere, James speaks.
"I saw a merman."
The statement came so suddenly and of such strange sentiment, that Fredrick had to pause to process it. "What?"
"On the beach. Before you found me. I... I saw one."
"Are you sure? It could very well have been a trick of the light."
"Fredrick, I touched him. I carried him to the water. I doubt that could be just a 'trick of the light'."
With a thoughtful exhale, Fredrick looks up, setting his arm down atop the map he had been studying. "James, I want to believe you, but I have to admit that I find it difficult to. I mean, a merman, by the shore? On isolated and uninhabited land?"
"I didn't believe it either." Voice growing more excited as he continued, the brunet leant forward against the table, hands gesturing as he spoke. "Based on the state of him, it appeared that he had been beached- I couldn't just leave him there."
"Hm." Head resting on his palm, arm propped up, Fredrick thinks to himself as James relays a shortened version of his tale. Quietly sighing, he shrugs. "Well, it sounds rather difficult to peg that as being a hallucination of some sort. He just swam off, then?"
"He was gone as soon as he woke. I think that I may have scared him..."
"You did not mean to do so on purpose. I doubt that his own kind did that to him- he was likely frightened of you from the beginning, being a creature not of his own species."
"I suppose..."
Studying James' face, a small smile tugs at the captain's lips. "Was he beautiful?"
"God, I've never seen anything like him- I'd heard the stories, but never expected them to be entirely true. Nothing I've ever read nor heard could ever have measured up to what I saw yesterday."
Chuckling, Fredrick leans back in his seat. "It seems as though you had the chance encounter of a lifetime."
"Hopefully not only one encounter..."
"James, we're in the middle of the ocean. They could have gone anywhere." Seeing James' face fall, he tacks on, "but there is a possibility. At least we don't have to search the land as well."
"Unless the stories of their being able to walk on land as well are true."
"Not all parts of those fairy tales can be true," Fredrick says with a lighthearted laugh as he stands. "Come on, it's time to head for bed. Early start in the morning."
Accepting the hand that Fredrick offered out, James stands as well, closing the notebook he had previously been writing in and tucking it into his bag. "Aye aye."
Stopping by the door before leaving, Fredrick turns back, smiling. "You may find him again, don't lose hope. Miracles don't only happen once. Goodnight, James."
"Thank you. Goodnight."
~~~
Days and nights passed. As the ship gently rocked on the sea, James lie awake in bed. Situated in a small room near the captain's, he sat up with a tired sigh, running a hand through his hair. All was quiet. Waves lapped against the hull, the wood creaked as it moved.
Then there was a splash.
Starting, the brunet whipped around to check the direction that the sound had come from. Practically leaping from his cot, he rushes to the deck, searching for what could have made the sound. It was large enough to have been a person falling, but small enough to have been a particularly large wave smacking the side and rebounding.
Scanning the surface of the ocean, there is another splash.
Coming from near the side of the ship.
Leaning over the railing, the ripples in the water guide James' eyes to their source. To his shock, the commotion is coming from the net- and something inside it. Grabbing a knife from nearby, he rushes back, thankful that the dinghy was hung next to where the net was cast from. It did not take long to lower himself, for years of practice had taught him to do so quickly.
The creature in the net thrashes about, clearly trying to escape. From in between the thick lines of sailor's net, flashes of red and gold flick above the water. James' heart stops, leaping into his throat. Shoving aside the hope that his chest filled with in favor of handling the situation at present, he nears the net as close as he dares, speaking in gentle tones. "Try to be still, I won't hurt you. I just want to get you out of here."
As though they understood the sailor's words, the captive of the net gradually ceases their panicked movements, curling back into a far corner under the surface of the water.
Working at the thick rope until it snapped apart, James undoes as much of it as he can manage, creating an ample opening. Moving back, he tosses the blade aside, chest heaving as he observes with wide eyes. The water stills, the flashes of colour sinking underneath the waves. The net seems to move on its own, and there is stillness.
Then, the source of the ruckus breaks the surface of the water.
Heart soaring at the sight, James' hopes have been answered. The same face as before, bright eyes meeting James' widened pair.
"..hello," the sailor hesitantly greets, frozen in his place.
The other does not respond. Treading water to keep his head and shoulders above the wave, he intently watches the man before him.
"...can you understand me?" Cocking his head, James slowly leans back, not wanting to tip the small boat over. Not receiving a response, he bites his lip, thinking. "I suppose there's little use in talking to you, then... I suppose it would be absurd to keep talking to myself, hm?" he says with a chuckle.
"Not absurd, no. It's better than sitting in silence."
Eyes widening once more, this time from excitement, James leans forward a little with a grin upon his face. "So you can understand me! I-I wasn't sure that you would be able to."
"It's similar enough to my native language. I have heard your kind speak your tongue before."
"You've been around humans, then?" James asks, curiosity tinting his voice.
"More times than I wish to recall."
The merman's voice was silken, as though he were singing without creating any music, save for the words themselves. James could easily understand the stories of siren's voices which drew many a sailor to their watery grave- a few sentences alone, and he was caught. Now, though, the beautiful tone shifted to one more serious than before. Sensing he had said something wrong, James quickly changes the topic. Gesturing to the net, he inquires, "What happened, if I may ask?"
"I swam too close, and could not see the net. The gaps are large enough to swim through with an effort, but my fins became stuck between the rope."
"You could not see it?"
"The water is dark, and I was in a rush."
"Perhaps you'd best slow down next time, then." The merman's expression tinted toward sour, and James winced to himself. The last thing he wanted was to find himself out of favor with the beautiful creature. "But if you were rushing, I assume that you had a reason... do you live near here?"
"You do not seem to understand merfolk customs."
"Then perhaps I need someone to teach me."
In a moment of bravery, James sits up, and leans closer.
As though startled as an animal would be upon being approached, the merman ducks under the waves in a flash, and in another moment, is gone.
His chance is gone. Once the surprise settles, James groans. Sitting back, he resigns to watching the water, with the flicker of hope he may yet see the blond again.
Bracelet, Part 1 of 2
The house was an old one, decrepit and lit only by the lone lantern hanging by the door, flickering with the false flame of an electric light. Wind blowing through the rafters and adding to the eerie ambience, one member of the group voiced the thought she knew anyone who came here would think.
"This looks straight out of a horror movie."
"Cara, our jobs are essentially straight out of horror movies."
The profession of a hunter was one dangerous in nature, but that did not deter the many who sought to fight the creatures that ran alongside humanity. Many hunters grouped together to form teams, for the added insurance of a pack rather than going solo. Numbers were a great advantage, and all understood why.
Creatures could be far weaker than humans, and easily caught and captured- but many were far stronger, eluding human attack and capture. Some hunter teams left for missions and returned with great reward. Others never made their ways back home.
The team facing the challenge today was not at all new to the world they were charging into. A crew bonded by the family they found within one another, they had faced up against many a creature and come back alive.
This time, they believed, would not soil their record.
Whether that was foolish confidence or otherwise was up for debate.
Turning on their flashlights as they approached the building that rested in near-shambles, the shadows grew everywhere the light pointed. Readying themselves, each member of the team checked the various tools on their person, some already drawing pieces out of bags or belts and into their hands.
Equipping himself with a cross in the hand opposite his torch, rhe leader of the team took the first few steps into the building. The wooden boards creaked under him, and would definitely have left splinters if he was not wearing thick boots. Seasoned and with far more official training than many on his team had, he had long been known as the captain of this crew. For good reason, as he had been the good sense of the group that whole time and had kept them safe and operating since he formed them.
Shadows shifted where the light could not reach. Though two of the leading trio carried flashlights and one carried a flaming torch, they still could not illuminate the far corners of the room, where darkness lurked.
The second of them, Cara, shone her flashlight's beam across the room. Hand resting on a vial of holy water, she kept her wits closely about her. Things were quiet. Too quiet. There was hardly any wind, and yet boards creaked above them and faint sounds of movement echoed through the large room.
At Cara's side but behind Fredrick, is James. The right-hand-man to Fredrick, he was always at the ready. Even so, he carried no additional weapon aside from the flashlight. There was no threat, he did not see need to fill his hand when it may best be helpful free.
The first room that they enter is empty. It appears to be a living room of sorts, but devoid of furniture aside from a chair and a stool that has long been knocked over.
The night air sent a chill through the open boards and glass-less windows. Every footfall made a noise, as though the house may fall apart if they took a wrong step. The silence was unnerving- though they knew that the location had to be occupied, there was not a single sign of live here now or any time recently.
If what was here could even be called alive, that is.
A lone creak in a room far off was the only thing which came even close to a sign. As such, the group instantly parted, one half heading directly for the source, the rest heading for the remainder of the building.
Most doors are fallen off their hinges or only cracked open. One, at the end of the hall, stands clearly opened. Door intact, and a fading light inside which quickly disappears.
Taking to the front of them to open the door, Cara takes hold of the rusted doorknob, and after a silent countdown, forces it open the remainder of the way.
As they enter the room, there is not but a moment before they are ambushed. Humans scatter, light is cast out and destroyed.
In the fray, blood is splattered and shouts ring out. Each in one of their pure forms, these demons held far more power than the team had been expecting. They were prepared physically, but perhaps not mentally. Weaving through the shadows in bodies that could not be called material, the demons proved overpowering.
But not for long.
Backing up to be at each other's backs, each hunter armed themself. Waiting in tense silence, their chests heaved, sweat beading on their foreheads. Time passes, enough for their hearts to nearly calm.
Then, the deafening silence is broken by deafening noise. With a roar, a large shadow of darkness descends upon them.
Though no bodies had hit the floor in death, one hits the floor in injury.
Thrown aside, James lands with a grunt against the floorboards, forcing himself to stand and run, quite literally, for his life.
Separated from the main group, a flash of movement in the room opposite him snags James' attention. Seeing the opportunity as, at the very least, a chance to escape the creature that was most likely chasing him, he ducks into the room and shuts the door save for but a sliver.
Taking in a sharp breath at the sight, James instinctively reaches for the holy water in his back pocket. Upon further observation, though, he lowers his hand, as well as the flashlight.
Whatever was sitting against the wall in front of him was wounded.
Dragging in shuddering breaths, the creature flinches back as James attempts to approach them. Eyes fully black, along with the skin around them, streaks run from the edges of their eyes down their cheeks, resembling tears falling. Clothing ripped and bloodied, near every visible part of their skin was covered in blood or dirt. Hands black as ink and ending in clawed fingers, their appearance makes it clear as to what they are. Blond waves of messy hair fell to their shoulders, bangs swept partially to the side and covering a part of their face.
Though it felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, the realization soon settles upon James that this creature was not aiming to hurt him. Though some could argue that it may be an act, a trick to draw him closer, James would hear no such arguments.
Eyes flicking across the being, he pauses as he notes the glowing around their wrist each time they moved. Some sort of way to keep them there, presumably.
Hearing another roar ring out in the direction he had come from, James mentally swears. He would have to come back. His friends' lives mattered more than this new discovery. It would have to wait.
"I'll be back," he hastily promised before checking the hallway and running back out.
Locating his friends by following the sounds of the fight, he leaps back into the fray. Slashing with her knife, Cara spares a thankful and relieved glance to the returned member.
Whether the demons were destroyed or retreated, they could not tell. What they did know, was that they were gone, at least for now.
Chest heaving, James breaks the lingering silence. "There's a smaller demon in one of the back rooms."
"What?" Stalling for but a few seconds in order to listen, Fredrick's eyes widen.
"They'ee wounded. We need to take them back with us."
"Are you crazy?" Cara shouts back back between pants of breath.
"They were a captive of what we actually came for- why would they hurt us if we're trying to save them?"
"They're still a demon nonetheless," Fredrick points out in a comparatively calmed tone. "Which means we would have to be excessively careful."
"I'm willing to take that risk."
"Then your confidence is enough for me to trust your judgement."
Donning a defiant look, James dutifully nods, and disappears into the shadows once more.
"Fredrick! He could be killed!" Cara screeches.
"He knows what he's doing. I'm going to stay behind- round up everyone else."
Unable to argue, Cara spares one last worried look in James' direction, then steels herself and runs off to follow her orders.
Rushing back to the room, the brunet haphazardly checks the areas around him as he goes, attention focused on one goal and one goal only. Retracing his steps, he slips back into the same room as before. The demon is still there.
"•••••••• •• ••••-" the creature speaks in a tongue unintelligible to human ears.
"Shh, shh..." James whispers as he kneels down to be at the demon's sitting eye-level. Thinking quickly through a clouded mind of panic, James pulls a vial of holy water from the pack on his hip. If it could harm creatures of the night, surely it could harm their work. Right? Hopefully.
"This might hurt a bit." Without time for the words to process, if they were even understood, James poured the liquid onto the chain-like band that phased in and out of existence. Some splattering off of it, the blond creature flinches, a quiet squeak of presumably pain escaping - but the band was gone.
Elation running through him due to the discovery, James stands, body wavering as his vision momentarily blurred.
Testing out their new range of movement, the demon tentatively stands, nearly falling as he stumbles from the effort to do so. Once he has his balance, he moves his arm- and finds no chain holding him back. Quietly gasping in a choked sound, surprised, James allows the moment of relief before interrupting.
"We don't know if they're gone for good. We need to leave. Now." Unsure if the creature could understand him, he begins to walk, to give the visual cue.
Taking a nervous step forward, the demon catches its balance, and steps forward again. Still trying to understand the sudden drastic increase in their range of movement, the actions are slow and tight- but movement nonetheless.
"Our team is outside. Be careful, okay?" Offering as reassuring a smile as he could, he walks alongside the creature, leading it along and out into the night.
Bracelet, Part 2 of 2
"Can you wash yourself?" Cara asks, voice curt.
The demon nods.
Well, at least she knew it was competent.
With a sigh, she tries to release some of the harshness of her language and body. "Stay here." Ruining that effort, she adds, "or I'll make sure you stay in place for much longer than this."
After rummaging around the closets of the cabin, Cara supplies the demon with a small stack of folded clothes. "These should be close enough to your size."
Once she had led the creature to the bathroom of the cabin, she brushes herself off, washing her hands of the demon for as long as the temporary peace without it would last her. Heading for the living room, she sits on the arm of one of the armchairs.
"Our new 'friend' is getting themself cleaned off."
"Cara," Fredrick leads with a warning tone, "only because they are a demon does not mean we have to hate them automatically. They have not made any move to harm any of us yet."
"That's why I'm worried."
Moving his gaze from the drink in his hands to Cara, James interrupts. "They were scared. They're scared of us- we shouldn't be scared of them."
After leading the demon from the building, the team of hunters had carefully taken them back to the base. A cabin nearby the woods. An optimal place to operate from, as they were nearby the town but close to a spot where many creatures ran to. With protections strategically placed around the house and regularly checked, they did not fear being attacked. What they had not considered as a possibility, though, was letting a creature inside.
Shifting in her seat, Cara huffs in a final act of defiance. "I still think we need to be careful."
"She's right, but so are you, James," Fredrick calmly recaps. Long coat removed from his person and draped over the seat behind him, it creates a looming shadow behind his chair from where it falls to nearly sweep the floor. "We do need to be careful, but we cannot treat them as though they are the same as the monsters that we faced today. It has made no move to harm us, we have nowhere near as much reason to distrust them as we could."
Slumping back into her seat, Cara admits defeat. "Fine, fine."
"Thank you." Sipping from the mug in his hands, James' drink falls numb on his tongue as he nearly drops the cup.
Emerging from the shower with a towel still draped over his shoulder for the case of his wet hair, the blond being inadvertently teaches James the reality of how identical demons could appear to humans.
Wet hair still dripping onto the towel, they are finally cleaned up. Eyes returned to a human state, they shine a bright blue- a surprising sight to James, who was far more used to reds and golds for creatures of this sort. Clad in a black t-shirt underneath a red and black flannel, both which were a bit too big for his thin form, the dark denim jeans are the only bit of the demon's ensemble that fit properly. Barefoot, he stops at the line where the wooden floor of the remainder of the cabin met the carpets of the living room.
Seeing what he assumed to be fear in their widened eyes, the creature that now appeared perfectly human spoke for the first time that any of the true humans could understand. Voice quieted, its smooth tone is nothing falling short of his physical beauty. His words are careful, and spoken slowly, as though he was unsure of them.
"I can't hurt any of you," he states, holding up his wrist to display the band that had been tied around it, bearing a sigil burned into the leather. "I can't touch it, or any of you."
Proud of her work, Cara nods to affirm the statement.
Though James knew that it must be painful to wear, he held his tongue, wary of what the others in the room would say if he protested. They barely knew this creature, he knew they would want protection. It was warranted, for how dangerous this being could very well be.
"As long as he's here, he'll be wearing it. Longer, if he sticks around."
"Shouldn't we give him a room?" James asks out into the group. "If he's going to be staying with us, I mean."
Though Fredrick allowed a contemplative silence before answering, he nods. "I believe that would be best, yes. I believe you said that they were wounded- do we not need to keep them in care?"
"It seems fine to me," Cara bluntly states. "It didn't look like it was hurt, it's been moving around without any problems."
"Then we'll ask them ourselves. Are you wounded?" Fredrick calmly asks, facing the blond that had been waiting in silence near the doorway.
"Not badly," he answers, shaking his head. "I was able to heal myself a part of the way before it became too serious."
Raising an eyebrow, curious as to the implications of the statement, Fredrick holds his questions for the time being. "That's good, then. We'll still keep close be watch to assure that you heal fully, if that is alright?"
"Of course. Thank you." A short, tense silence follows. Pressured by the strange feeling, he turns and leaves, without once setting foot on the carpet.
The silence continues for a short while longer as the crew watches the creature leaves.
Not long after, Fredrick retired to bed, and Cara dismissed herself soon after.
Dark green sweater blending into the fabric of the armchair he sat on, James sits in silence, watching the fire as he thought. The day's events were a blur- he had hardly had time to process them up until now. He was staying at the cabin the team always used as a base. They were safe from the monsters they had gone up against.
And now there was a demon staying with them.
Quiet shuffling approached James' spot, the man only noticing once a figure was caught in the corner of his vision. Though it startled him at first, he quickly relaxes.
"Sorry," the demon apologizes. "I did not mean to scare you."
"You didn't." Shaking his head, James smiles. "Is everything alright?"
"I saw that the others had left. I was going to ask the same of you."
Oh. "Yes, of course. They were just leaving to go back to their rooms."
"Oh."
Feeling apologetic for the feeling that had settled upon the room, James shakes it off, speaking gently. "Would you like to join me?"
"If you would trust me enough for that."
"From what Cara said, I don't think you would be able to hurt me, so there is little reason for me not to. Something I would like to know, though, is what I should call you."
"I do not have a name. Not in your language, at least."
"Would you like one, then?"
Eyes widening, the demon stumbles to find words in the mortal tongue. "Yes- yes, please."
Eyes flicking across the features of the now-humanoid form, James thinks in penitent silence. After a short while, he lowers the hand that his chin had been propped atop, and states with perfect certainty, "Apollo."
"Apollo," the blond repeats, savoring the feeling of it on his tongue. "What does it mean?"
Finding himself stuck in the ways of how to word his answer, James bites his tonue. "It is the name of a god of an ancient culture. He was beautiful and blond, like you. He's the god of the sun, and music."
"Oh." Not in a surprised manner, rather out of quiet thought, the newly named Apollo considers his name. "...I like it. Thank you."
"You're welcome." James chuckles, smiling. "We can change it later, if you so wish, but I am happy that you like it, at the very least for now."
Though he knew he would be happy with the name for quite some time, Apollo nods.
"I'm sorry to ask if this is too personal a question, but I hadn't really realized just how human-like your kind can appear. Can.. can all of you do this?" the freckled brunet asks, genuinely curious. Upon realizing that he had truly asked this aloud, he flushes a shade out of embarrassment. "Sorry. I can't say I'm not interested and have the statement be honest."
Interested in more than one way, in truth.
"I... believe so, yes, but many prefer to stay closer to their true form's side of the spectrum," Apollo answers with a nod. "I don't mind, by the way. It isn't as though I have any particular connection to my kind that I'd like to keep in perfect alliance."
Though curious about the latter statement, James chooses to inquire upon a wording at the beginning that had caught his attention. "Spectrum?"
"Oh. Well..." Apollo bites his cheek, trying to form the phrases he was thinking. "You were aware that demons can change forms, yes?"
"Yes, I believe that's one of the first things we're taught, aside from the fact that they're strong and we should probably run if we piss one off too badly without backup."
Laughing quietly, the sound light, the blond becomes more at ease. This company was far less intimidating than the others he had met, and... did not seem to be scared of him, which came as far greater a relief than he could have expected. "That is good advice, yes. Demons can change forms, but it isn't just between two or three or any solid number. It's a spectrum, between human and their true form. What you see now is human, what you saw at That Place was true form, how you found me there was about a medium." Curling in a bit on himself as he speaks the last sentence, Apollo draws to a cautious stop.
"You won't ever have to go back there, you know. You don't need to worry about that."
"I'm not worrying about that. Nothing could ever make me go back there, and if I ever meet the demons that were there as well, I'm not running."
Lip curling into a smile, James savors each new gain of information on this demon's personality. It felt a gift, to sit with someone like he and be able to hold a conversation without fear- not that he would have had any in any circumstance, sigil band or no. "I'm not even sure if you would have the answer to this, but is your accent from a particular place?"
"My accent?"
"...yes, you have one. At least, from my point of view. It isn't a bad thing, of course- I actually really like it."
Answering the question of his speech and accent to the English language, Apollo hesitates before stating, "...well, I only started using it today."
"It?" James inquires, curious.
"This language and voice."
"You've never spoken this language before?"
"I had never tried to."
Brows furrowing, James leans back in the chair. "...how did you learn, then?"
"I picked it up over time, I suppose. The native language is easily manipulated to sound like other tongues... it isn't too difficult to understand new languages, once I have heard them a good amount..."
Eyes wide out of surprise and curiosity, James breathily laughs. "I'm only just beginning to realize what you lot can do, it seems."
There is a pause as Apollo shifts in place, thinking over his words. Even so, they seem to fall out before he can truly consider them. "I could tell you more, if you would like..."
Smiling brightly, James perches on the edge of his seat. "I'd like that, very much so."
The edge of his lips curling into a small, genuine smile, the blond demon takes a slow breath, steadying himself.
"Well, what would you like to know?"
An Almost-Perfect Evening
The night breeze brushed across the stone and dirt roads, cooling the air and stilling the world. Though many had long returned to their homes or retreated to night life for the evening, there were two who still traveled the paths.
Leading the blond as they wove through the streets, James kept Apollo's slender hand in his. "It shouldn't be much farther, if I'm remembering correctly. Come on, around this turn."
They arrive to a small building, tucked back against faces far larger than its own. Its wooden boards were old, tacked together and sporting the occasional poster or paper. The front entrance was lit by a lantern which swung on its hook, and muffled noise seeped from the cracks of the walls.
Pushing open the door with grandeur, a smile upon his face, James steps to the side to allow Apollo entrance.
Entering the building from the street felt like entering an entirely different world. Though the streets at night were hushed, darkness illuminated only by the sky and the occasional lamp or lit window, this place was far different. Lamps surrounded the room, and many tables hosted a candle or two as well. Merry chatter and the clinking of drinks accompanied the music that flooded the air.
Apollo's chest swelled, soaking in everything he could see and hear. Before he could become too enraptured while only yet at the entrance, James takes his hand and leads him further inside.
Weaving through the crowd, they arrive at a table near one of the back corners of the main area of the establishment, well enough to be out of the crowd but not enough to be out of the main light of the room.
"What do you think?" James asks, a lopsided smile filled with nerves upon his face.
"I love it." Eyes never settling on one thing for long, he leans against the table, a finger tapping on the wood, unconsciously following the beat of the song. "How did you find this place?"
"I have my ways." After receiving a look from Apollo, the brunet laughs. "Fine, fine. I took some advice from some of my friends."
"Then you have to thank them for me."
"Don't thank anyone just yet, we haven't even experienced the evening," James says with a chuckle.
"I don't need to. I'm here, in this wonderful place, with you. What is there not to be thankful for already?"
Smile losing its nerves, James relaxes. "I suppose you are right."
"Of course I am." Winking, Apollo grins, and offers out a hand as he starts to the dance floor.
~
Returning from dancing filled with laughter and energy, the pair take a place at their previous table. Standing at it, Apollo leans against the surface, quietly catching his breath, while James' struggle was much more noticeable.
"I believe that I am starting to realize how different your dancing is from what I learned," the prince says in between breaths.
"I'll take that as being in a good way?"
"Everything I've experienced through you is different in a good way." Breathily chuckling, he places a hand atop Apollo's, gently brushing his fingers atop the soft skin. Sharing the moment of silence with blushing smiles, James' soft expression turns to a grin. "I'm going to get you something new to try, this time, though."
"What?" Leaning off the table to watch as James rounds it, Apollo's eyes widen.
"I'll be right back, dont worry."
Biting his lip, nerves rising just noticeably, Apollo taps a finger on the table as he waits. The pub was a lively place, filled with the atmosphere that Apollo was used to, but being alone in it was an entirely different story. Trying to ignore the pressure that felt as though it was rising against him, Apollo's thoughts leave this plane of reality- until a sudden sound snaps him back.
Setting a mug onto the wooden table, James pushes it closer to Apollo. "Try it."
Eyes falling skeptically upon the offering, Apollo turns his head. "What is it?"
"You'll have to try it first, and tell me if you like it."
"...hm." Gingerly lifting the drink, Apollo examined the dark liquid as it shifted around in the tankard. Lifting it to his lips and taking a sip, Apollo's nose scrunches at the taste.
Stifling a snort, James bites his lip to hide a smile. "The initial taste isn't very enjoyable, I know."
"Then why do you like it?"
Contemplating the answer, James chuckles after a short silence. "It's a native drink. The taste isn't too bad after the first bit. It's just.. fun, I suppose. There are different types, some are better than others. If you don't like it, I'll pick a different drink for you- alcoholic or not."
Shaking his head, Apollo takes another stubborn swig, a tingling sensation settling on his tongue from the strange taste.
Chuckle turning to a laugh, James smiles, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay- but let me know, alright?"
"Maybe."
"You're so stubborn," says James, voice filled with affection masked by joke.
"You're so easy to be stubborn around." Apollo retorts with a small smirk, leaning against the table.
Mirroring the motion, James smiles. "Oh, am I?"
"Yes, and sometimes, it's infuriating. Just like how easy it is to remember how much I love you."
"I love you, too, angel."
Smiling, the blond laughs, embarrassed by the affection in those words. Tucking loose curls back behind his ear, he fiddles with his fingers. Toe of his boot tapping against the wooden floorboards, Apollo unconsciously takes the music playing in the room to heart. Noticing this, James chuckles. "You can go out and dance, dearest."
"I don't want to leave you."
"I want you to enjoy yourself. I'll be right here, watching you, okay?"
Looking to the floor, then back to James, Apollo bites his lip in thought. A gentle smile setting upon his expression, he takes up James' hand and places a kiss upon it. A swooping motion of his arms leading in a step back from the table, his feet then gracefully carry him to the open floor at the center of the room.
Leaping onto an empty table, Apollo was moving before he could truly realize what he was doing. A lifetime of dance and music culminated in this moment, guiding his feet as they danced. Boots tapping to the beat of the music, their tempo sped and slowed with that of the band. The energy of the room lifted, and eyes turned to the talent on the table. A gypsy's grace flooded with the liveliness of a bird in flight.
Apollo was breathless when he finished. James was breathless as he watched.
The crowd that had formed around the table helped him to step off of it, the blond's eyes locking with his beloved's before his feet had even hit the floor.
A wide smile upon his face, James laughed as Apollo neared him. "That was wonderful- I hadn't realized you knew how to dance like that."
"I can dance to anything, love." In a graceful, swooping movement, Apollo raised an arm, pointedly tapping the brunet's nose with the tip of his finger.
"Then, I didn't realize how much you enjoyed it."
Yes, it was true that this talent had caused heartache in the past, but that did not cancel out the energy and joy that it brought them when he truly enjoyed it. "Perhaps you should try it with me, then."
"The only dancing that I know is formality, Apollo."
"Then I'll have to teach you."
Offering out his hand with a bow, Apollo smiles. "May I have this dance, your highness?"
Accepting the hand with a fond smile, James allows himself to be led. Nerves turned away in fear at the brightness of the star that led him, pure love and affection that he felt being far too powerful to cause any nervousness to persevere as they entered the open dance floor.
"Your formal dancing and what I do are not far apart, you know. All you change is how you move your feet." Demonstrating, Apollo keeps his hand holding James' as he taps his feet a few times and makes a swooping motion to the side with his free arm. "It's not restricted. There are no choreographed songs. You're meant to feel the music, and let that guide you."
"I'm afraid I don't know how to do that, love," James says with a sheepish chuckle.
"Then you're going to have to allow yourself to let it happen on its own. Here- take my other hand. Perfect. Move your foot like this- nope, too stiff, do it again. Better. Yes! Like that- okay- do it again, but this time move one foot after the other. Yes!" Laughing, Apollo continues a monologue to guide his partner, though soon enough, it is not needed.
Forced to pause when the band broke for a break, the pair returned to their table. Faces flush, they share breathless chuckles and smiles across the table.
The evening passed in a joyful blur. Apollo danced until he could hardly walk, drawing James in with him whenever he had the chance.
Exiting the locale late into the night, the pair walk the cobblestone streets, hand in hand.
Boot catching on a loose stone (at least, that is what Apollo would claim it had been), the blond can barely process that he is falling before finding himself supported by strong arms.
"Careful, love."
Looking up to lock eyes with his smiling beloved, Apollo's cheeks flush. "S-sorry, I-"
"I don't want you falling and hurting yourself. May I?" Receiving a nod of approval, James sweeps the light form off his feet, holding him close in his arms. Leant against James' chest, Apollo tags onto the man's vest, staying close. He could feel his face heat. Was it from embarrassment or from being flustered? He could not tell. The remainder of the walk passed by in gentle silence, save for the occasional short exchange, or one of them pointing out something that they saw.
Using a back trail they had long discovered and marked off, James set his lover down in order to help him up the short climb to the balcony. Once they were both up, James entered the bedroom, undoing his vest and putting it away. When he returned to the balcony, a more comfortable shirt on, he smiles at what he found.
Apollo, leant against the edge of the balcony, gazing upward. The stars were beings he found comfort in. Their steadiness, the way that they were always there- and were always the same stars.
Approaching, he speaks in a gentle tone. "Darling?"
"Mm? Oh," he begins, looking over his shoulder at the promt, causing a sheepish smile to appear. "Sorry, I hadn't realized you were waiting."
"I wasn't, do not fret." Standing next to Apollo, he places a hand onto the man's back, smiling warmly in return. "The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they? Only a continuation of the beauty of my sun, I am sure." Pecking Apollo's cheek, James smiles happily.
"You missed."
"I missed?"
"You did, but not by that much," Apollo explains with a smile, turning his head.
"Care to correct me?"
"Happily." Leaning up, he closes the space between them, lips meeting.
Though his lover's lips tasted faintly of alcohol, James could not mind. They were soft, and he so often longed for them when he did not have his Apollo near. Placing his hands on the blond's waist, he holds him close, the world around the two of them fading away.
They were together, in a moment of blissful adoration.
Eyes sparkling like the stars he so often looked up to, Apollo drew back, remaining so close that his lover could feel hot breath landing on him. He smiled, breathily chuckling and lowering his face.
"Aw, love, don't hide your beautiful face from me."
Ducking into the crook of James' neck, Apollo shakes his head.
"No, that's not any better, dearest," he says with a laugh, wrapping his arms around Apollo. Pecking whatever part of his lover that he could reach, James gently sways, holding Apollo in his arms.
Hands loosely balled against James' chest, Apollo relaxes in his hold, limply allowing the swaying motion to extend to him.
"Would you like to move to the bed, angel?" James asks in almost a whisper. Receiving a nod in return, James carefully scoops the other man up in his arms, holding him close. With the door to the balcony still open, he easily passes through, only stopping once he reached the bed. Carefully setting Apollo down, James laughs when he discovers that his lover seems to not be inclined to let go.
"Darling, I'm going to need my shirt back."
"Nooooooo..."
"Do you want me to lay down with you?"
"...yes..."
"Then I'm going to need to move," he says with a chuckle.
"...fine..." Releasing his hands from where they had tagged onto his lover's shirt, Apollo sits on the edge of the bed, otherwise unmoving.
"Thank you." Pecking the top of the other's head, James moves away, removing his shirt and replacing it with a cleaner, more comfortable one. When he returns to the bed, Apollo has hardly moved.
"Dearest?"
"Mm?"
"Is everything alright?"
"Tired."
"Ah," James chuckles. "Are you going to change before bed? I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
"Too tired."
"Do you want some help?"
Perking up, Apollo nods. "Please."
Sitting fully on the bed, James sets his hands onto Apollo's shoulders, pecking a part of his exposed neck. Quietly laughing at the sudder than ran down Apollo's back in response, he reaches his arms around the blond's torso, resting his head on his shoulder in order to see where he was guiding his hands. Undoing the fastenings of Apollo's vest, James slides it off of Apollo's shoulders with his cooperation.
"Do you want a different shirt?"
"I don't have an extra..."
"You can wear one of mine, you know."
Eyes lighting up, he asks, "I can?"
"Well, of course. Especially if the prospect makes you so happy," he replies with a smile.
"Then, please, yes."
Pushing himself off the bed with a heft, James retreats to his wardrobe, returning with a clean shirt. Setting it on the bed next to Apollo, he offers out a hand. "May I?"
Once again receiving permission, he undoes Apollo's shirt, carefully pulling it over his head. Guiding the blond's arms through the sleeves of the new one, he does the buttons up halfway, pecking Apollo's nose once finished. "Does that suit you?"
"I'd venture to say it's a bit large on me, but I don't mind at all." A valid statement, for even though James was not much taller, the two men were of quite different builds. Apollo, thin and agile. James, sturdy and balanced.
"Perfect." Sitting next to Apollo and wrapping an arm around him, James smiles as the other rests his head against his shoulder.
They sit in contended silence, until Apollo once again breaks it. "May we lie down?"
"Of course." Releasing his lover from his arms, James takes his place on his half of the bed, getting under the covers and holding them up for Apollo to slip under as well. Wriggling under and snuggling up against James, Apollo places a hand onto his chest, sighing contentedly. Placing his own hand atop Apollo's thin fingers, James smiles, relaxing and allowing his eyes to fall shut.
~
Dappled sunlight filtered through the thin white curtains of the windows, creating soft patterns that danced upon the sleeping forms laying in bed. An arm draped across his lover's chest, Apollo lay on his stomach, tucked close against the other's sleeping form. Blankets loosely strewn about atop them, they lay asleep, comfortable in each other's embraces.
The first to stir, James' eyes open to the softly lit world. Hand resting atop Apollo's, he smiles as his eyes settle upon it, then following the path up the blond's arm to see his face.
Resting peacefully, the blond's curls are spread across his pillow, spilled into waves of golden threads. Unable to resist, James presses a kiss to his forehead, tracing soft circles and shapes into the back of his hand.
Laying back against the pillows, beginning to feel the drowsiness of rest return to him, James' attention is only brought back to the world of waking when Apollo stirs.
"Good morning, darling."
Grumbling, Apollo buries his face against James' shirt, refusing to face the bright light of day.
"Love? Are you alright?"
"I hurts like hell." Whining, he falls back onto the bed, covering his face with a pillow in attempts to block the sunlight, as though that would allow him to hide from the oncoming day and remain in the world of rest. "...morning..."
There is a pause of confusion, before James must stifle a chuckle. "Had a tad too much to drink last night, did we?" he teases. "Or was it too much dancing? You did tire yourself out."
Batting at the brunet, Apollo groans. "Don't."
"Sorry, sorry, I was only teasing."
"...I know..." He sighs, taking up James' hand in his. "...how did you sleep?"
"Wonderfully, with you next to me."
"Stop, people aren't meant to be as perfect as you," he groans.
"I'm not perfect, not even close. Don't put me on too high of a pedestal. I have no desire to be perfect. If I were perfect, I would not have you to complete me."
"...Then you cannot call me perfect, either."
"Beaten at my own game, I see. I won't, I promise." Lifting Apollo's hand in his, he gently kisses his palm. "I love you, exactly as you are. No perfect neccessary or desired."
"Almost perfect, then."
Chuckling, James nods. "Almost perfect, perfection with you."