ours is a service-oriented economy

[cross_and_bow]

A day passes. Jarvis is closer to booting up. Juliet is closer to control of her fire wand. Shell Bell is closer to actually needing that lightening feature on her coin bandolier.

Juliet asks, when she gets home after studying demons: [What, pray tell, are your findings, Sherlock?]

She has not put any blood in the microwave yet.

Comments

[eversomuchfun]

Sherlock laughs.

[cross_and_bow]

The microwave beeps. They teleport. Juliet hands over the blood.

[she_sells_seashells]

"You knoooow," says Shell Bell, "it'd probably be safe for me to just leave you two by yourselves on the beach, and you can brainphone me to pick you up when you're done. Juliet's got a few squares tucked into her socks."

[eversomuchfun]

"I think that is a fine plan," says Sherlock.

[cross_and_bow]

"All right then," says Juliet.

This plan is enacted. Juliet studiously practices with her fire wand.

Only somewhat for the purpose of learning to maintain concentration in spite of distractions, she says: "So about how long does it last, in safe amounts?"

[eversomuchfun]

"How long would you like it to?"

[cross_and_bow]

"I don't know what my choices are. Ballpark. Seconds, minutes, half an hour?" She thins her thread of fire where it hovers over the sea until it's just a line, and then she overdoes it and it splits; half of it fizzles and she renews it a quarter-inch thicker, then starts it to rippling.

[eversomuchfun]

"More than seconds. Probably less than half an hour."

[cross_and_bow]

"How likely am I to need to form a preference about duration beforehand due to loss of the ability to speak?" she wonders. Her fireline flickers but she recovers concentration enough that it doesn't go out completely before she reassumes control.

[eversomuchfun]

"Not sure," he says merrily. "We could do a short trial run and see what you think afterward."

[cross_and_bow]

"I like this plan," she says.

She adds temperature variation to the rippling of the line of fire.

[eversomuchfun]

Sherlock smiles.

[cross_and_bow]

"You said that it lasts till contact is broken - does that mean bitey contact or snacky contact or just any contact at all up to and including innocuous hand-holding?" She coils the line into a ring, joins up the ends and then splits it. It flickers again and she forces it back into existence.

[eversomuchfun]

"That part I'm less sure of."

[cross_and_bow]

"Science," says Juliet sagely.

[eversomuchfun]

"Ah, science."

[cross_and_bow]

Juliet starts playing with dipping the fireline under the water. She loses it several times before she can force her brain to believe that it'll go. It is magic fire, and it will in fact dip below the ocean and go right on burning there if she asks it. Bits of the sea begin to simmer quietly.

This variation on the exercise is sufficiently absorbing that it occupies the rest of her practice time before she declares herself tired. It is perhaps a credit to her discipline that she didn't hurry or make this declaration earlier than she has in the past.

She sits down in the sand and tucks her wand into her hair; she's not quite as practiced as Shell Bell at that, either, but she can do it. "Between Slayer healing and - which tattoo is it that does healing, I think it was the sun one - I probably won't have a bite mark tomorrow morning, but before we know that for sure is there some non-traditional location that's easier to hide? I don't want to have to stutter at Mr. Giles explaining myself, and I think his concern would probably trump his librarian sensibilities if I showed up with a half-healed barbecue fork wound."

[eversomuchfun]

"I can bite you anywhere you like," he says cheerfully.

[cross_and_bow]

Juliet begins considering locations. (She blushes just a little bit.)

Her shirt today has a bit of a loose neckline. She pulls it down over one shoulder, and the bra strap with it. "Slightly left of traditional?" she asks, drawing a circle above the far edge of her collarbone with the opposite finger and looking up tentatively.

[eversomuchfun]

"Sure," says Sherlock. "Shall I?"

[cross_and_bow]

"Mmhm." She crosses her legs and plants her hands on either side of her in the sand and can't seem to decide whether to close her eyes or not.

[eversomuchfun]

He kisses her shoulder, and then bites. Not very hard. Enough to get through the skin, but only just.

It is, as promised, pleasant.

[cross_and_bow]

Her hands clench in the sand and whether she'd decided on closing her eyes or not, they squeeze shut while her mouth falls open.

"Oh - oh fuck," she gasps.

[eversomuchfun]

Yes. That is the desired response.

Sherlock hugs her and sips at the wound in her shoulder, keeping the connection going, maintaining the pleasantness.

[cross_and_bow]

"Fuck, Sherlock." She's shuddering, head to toe, and one of her hands finds its way out of sand to grab at his back, shortly followed by the other. "Ohgod."