Scene #8267: Caught The 'Nuki Admiring (Respectfully)

Owner	Pose
Dimokratia	Dimo had been Fully, Extremely Aware of Princess Nuki's dire levels of admiration for her least impressive state, tall and bare but for her least shape and the wrapping of carbon black and chrome silver. Her least shape was, of course, still an eight foot tall woman of incredible build and sculpted plate perfection. She just had less durable skin on. The kind for touching and feeling. 'Dressed' similarly to the presentation at Rhodes Island, she lifts a palm communication device little more than a glass plate with inner light and runes within it. Aiming the glass 'camera' down across her face and front, with just a towel around her neck, she snaps a picture and sends the following: > Princess Nuki. > I remember you wishing to compare a real experience to your shows? > Join me at the coliseum. When Futaba arrives, the private room that Dimo has reserved is a reflection chamber in cherrywood, thick with sauna-mist. Two deep pools of mineral water are set with a bridge between, at ground level. In the wings of the chamber, rises of ascending pools loop to a high point at the back that waterfalls down into a large crescent pool of bubbling water. Dimo awaits, back to the entrance, gazing into the stream of falling water. Her silver-white hair retains volume even while wet, and the jellyfish tails of her waistcapes sway in the eddies of steamy air that fill the room, sworled from vents and the hot wicking of the many pools and streams of warm effervescent water.
Futaba Nuki	Who could resist an invitation from Dimo? Maybe someone with better self-preservation instincts, or even someone that knows fear, but Futaba is not one of those people. She just so happens to be in the middle of watching one of her shows (after hijacking a TV in a break room) when she gets that picture and message on her own phone (an older model, but flagship at the time). > Good evening, Madam Dimo of the Silver. > That would be splendid. Thank you for your consideration. > I will be there shortly. > Sincerely, > Princess Nuki It still takes a bit for Futaba to finally get to the reserved room, but not out of procrastination or anything like that. In fact, she actually rushed to find theplace, but getting distracted by all the other rooms, along with refusing to consult a map, means she's already a little winded by the time she barges into the room that Dimo's set aside for them. Naturally, she's still dressed in her usual casual/outside wear rather than anything remotely appropriate for a sauna. When she sees Dimo waiting ahead surrounded by so much steaming water and feeling that heat rushing at her, though, Futaba is already looking rejuvenated once more. "Hi, Miss Dimo! Sorry about the wait, I was..." It's too hot to be wearing all the stuff she usually does in this room. Her scarf isn't even blowing, but just sticking uncomfortably to the back of her jacket from the humidity. "Figuring out how to get over here. Are we doing one of those sauna challenges today? With the waterfall?" If nothing else, she doesn't seem intimidated or cowed in the slightest, even in that heat.
Dimokratia	Futaba enters the sauna-arena and a whoosh of steam escapes out into the hallway, with a great intake of greedy cold. Dimo awaits something, her body in a proud ready, almost-tense, spring-ready, arched of foot and ready to move. And then... Futaba... Talks... Shoulders slacken by degrees, a state of readiness shifting, deliberately to her turn, pivoting on one black-wrapped arched foot. "Hello, Princess Nuki. Did you have a name you'd prefer? Or is Futaba acceptable? I can think of several more names if you'd like." Her perfect lips part, spreading into a grin as she paces closer. The air about her is drier, a pushing away of the damp, but even warmer, like a heat lamp in wet air. As her cool blue optics fall doown her nose at the shorter tanuki girl's, she leans down, just a bit. Close enough to feel dry on the outside, being near Dimo and under her eyesight is like a thick, hot sauna for the brain, sending ripples of hot tingles down the nerves, as warmth spills down through the eyes to roll around in the skull and spill down the neck. "Did you not wish to test me? See how I. . . worked? And show yourself, to me? Let's do that. The water is an amusement."
Futaba Nuki	Between the intense heat and that run just to get here, it shouldn't be too much surprise to see Futaba finally taking off... THE SCARF. Also, her jacket, although she's not so quick to disrobe that she gets anything else off before Dimo addresses her. "Futaba's good! Princess is..." There's a pause, and then she grins. "Maybe if I do something worth calling me that." That grin turns into a blank stare, though, as Dimo suggests having more names. "Eh? Like what? I think Tamamo used Nuki-san a few times, but that's only three." Clearly, this one is going to take a bit of work to get it through her skull. Unlike Dimo, Futaba's appearance is far less controlled, with her shirt and shorts somewhat dissheveled from the run, the sauna's heat, and also getting the jacket off moments ago. She has to crane her neck a bit to look right back up at Dimo, too, when she leans right over the tanuki. Futaba feels that tingling through her brain and hitting her not unlike a brick to the senses, drawing out a confused noise from her inadvertently before she remembers to actually answer her with a mildly rushed laugh. "Y-yeah! I was thinking more of a... Like... A little match rather than sweating it out, but I can do this, too!" That's when she finally remembers to start getting changed properly, pausing in mid-towel grab to finally look back over at Dimo and gawk at that robotic perfection. It might look almost untoward if it wasn't Futaba doing it. "Wait a second..." "Can you even sweat?"
Dimokratia	Dimo folds down, crouching down further so Futaba doesn't have to crane her neck up, and touching a knee to the floor. The Tanuki gets changed, and Dimo waits patiently, her smile simplifying to a closed-eyed appreciation for the smear frames between clothed and ready. It is only after Futaba takes off her jacket and top and spins around with a towel that Dimo, too-lightly, too-sweetly, has the time or thought to correct: "Ah, a little match? That's also what I thought. But--" Raking her hand gently through Futaba's hair and wobbling it down through the strands with a sure and tingling force allows Dimo to end resting her warm palm at the back of the tanuki princess' skull. Each of her four fingertips taps and strokes, her thumb brushing against the crown of her opposite's skull. The sauna-feeling in the skull bounces off Dimo's palm like the edge of a bowl or a relay dish. Her fingers massage it in, kneading and stroking. 'Wait a second.' The fingers pause, indulgent. Futaba has a moment - the single desired second - and she asks her question. "Not as such." She answers, with a laugh -- and from the grip on Futaba's head, tosses her into a nearby bath-pool. "We are actually fighting. Come at me, sweet girl." She encourages.
Futaba Nuki	There's a mild sense of awkwardness as Futaba gets changed in front of Dimo, but it's far easier to do once she gets into the grove. It's conveniently fast, too, so there's plenty of time for things to get far more confusing for her when Dimo gets her by the back of the head. It's not a threatening maneuver, though, so there's no reason for her to pull back so much as she just... She's not sure what the feeling is. There's both a sense of great confusion and overwhelming comfort hitting her at once, as just having someone hold her head like this isn't something that should be as... Well, comfortable as it is. Unfamiliar, but still enough to draw a shiver from Futaba with the tapping that has her snickering under her breath a moment later before relaxing again at the massage. "Good fingers... Ah? That's goo-wah!" And then she's unceremoniously tossed, landing in that pool with all the grace of a flipped turtle on land. She scrambles a bit before righting herself in the bath, only the top half of her head and some of her shoulders visible above the water while she turns to Dimo with a feigned irritation on her face. She's still grinning under the water, though. She burbles incoherently at first while her cheeks are already turning red from everything, then raises her head just enough for Dimo to hear her: "Alright! don't say we didn't start it for real, then!" And then Futaba's leaping out of the water with a big splash from behind her, using both her legs and tail to launch her out of the pool right at Dimo. Her limbs are all the right size and shape as she tries to catch herself on the robotic figure's shoulders, but it's her tail that does the trickery when it turns into a third arm to try and sweep Dimo right off her feet into a proper princess carry towards the water. "It's not fair to you if I'm the only one getting wet!" Yes, the meaning is completely lost on her.
Dimokratia	Dimo, well amused, warm in the geothermic sense, stretches back and lifts her arm wide to carry her princess tossing motion into a long, languid stretch, sizzling a mist-dispatching arm up like a sword through the steam. Futaba bubbles in the water. Dimo, posed wide-stanced in the sauna, stares down her calculatedly perfect nose with a little smile. "We're started... for real, then." She agrees, and the air drips hot with the sound of her deep-throat laughter. Futaba leaps out with a splash, and grabs up with a sizzle, her hands finding easy purchase, water disappearing in a rush of heat as it contacts Dimo's swoopingly surfaceplate and carbonblack sides. The pounce at her is like pouncing at a statue, wrapped about. Dimo receives Futaba as an intimate dancer, her wingspan greater than the tanuki's even with her tail to meet, arms in arms, and twirl the girl about again. Her left hand slides down Futaba's inner back, to slide to the rise of her butt and-- Grab the snaking tail by the base, seizing up the fuzzy mass by the base and squeze. Her right hand slides up Futaba's inner back, to cup against the back of her scalp again and press her palm into the back of the shorter girl's skull, and cant the princess back in her own close-armed carry, lifting her royal charge's head like a wineglass to drink by the chin. "Sweet girl." Purrs Dimo, cool eyes aflame with a synapse-singing power. "You can get me wet when you earn it. Would you..." Drawning her chin in, she breathes her words up Futaba's face, and down her neck, from the arch of her captive's spine and her mouth just at the arch of the tanuki's chin. "... like that?" Another artful spin. This time, into the sauna-hot waterfall back wall, which feels cold, room-temperature after the dry heat of the woman stalking forward, across the bridge, after the tossed tanuki. Dimo, of the Silver.
Futaba Nuki	"Whoa... Your skin's so smooth even with all these lines... Does anything ever get stuck in these?" Futaba comments as she gets distracted for just a moment with her hands on Dimo, not quite able to scoop her up as intended, but being received as a dancer rather than a faux-abductor. Nevertheless, she takes it in stride first, stepping about with a bit more practice than her overly eager exterior might suggest. That, of course, stops abruptly when she feels that hand on her tail. She lets out an incredibly confused noise at that sensation shooting right up her back, never mind the actual feeling of hands going up her back again. That alone is enough to get Futaba blurting out non-words incoherently, largely out of confusion from all these new sensations hitting her head in such rapid succession in the span of a minute or two. Perhaps, then, it's not much of a surprise to Dimo that the tanuki truly has no defense against any of it. She's used to fighting in a combat sense, sure, and even roughhousing in the bath isn't a foreign concept to her (despite others' wishes). She has no context whatsoever for whatever this is, though, and so her expression is largely frozen in a vacant, yet vaguely curious stare, fixed on Dimo even while her head is tilted back, staring right at her eyes and then her mouth when she says something... Futaba doesn't have any idea how to process what those words feel like. There's another full-body shiver at that close talking, and Dimo might even be able to hear or feel a bit of teeth chattering, then the barest puff of breath when she mutters a quiet "S.. Sure?" Her only respite is getting spun into the relatively colder wall, certainly drawing a startled yelp from Futaba at the temperature difference, but also giving her a chance to snap out of her bewildered state. "Cold! Wow, that's... Uh. A-alright, first one didn't work, but..." Studying Dimo again, Futaba's trying to figure out the right approach, but she's clearly distracted. By what, she's not even sure, but her hands are certainly moving in directions and stopping at her 12 and 6 as she takes a stance that's almost like some kind of martial artist's that actually knows what they're doing. Letting out bad impersonation of a proper kiai, Futaba flings herself straight at Dimo once again and... Moves through her? Rather, she turns herself into a cloud of steam briefly, hiding in the sauna mist itself to get to Dimo's back before returning to a physical form. Keeping her mouth pursed shut, she tries hooking one arm between Dimo's knees while the other has to stretch a bit to try and wrap around her chest. "Gotcha now!" Futaba's mouth doesn't stay shut for long, of course, as she's trying to pick up the significantly taller Dimo in some kind of distorted wrestling-like hold. Futaba's pride needs her to dunk her in the water at least once today...! She just has to hope she doesn't get distracted by more of that confounding speech-stealing tingling before she gets there.
Dimokratia	"Things become stuck to me all the time, but it's not unpleasant. There are many ways to become . . ." "Entangled." Dimo purrs, and the world swims drunkenly with her voice's intoxication. It's a trick of the brain. Oh, how the brain tingles and ripples, held in the dripping inside of the sauna steam between the eyes. The heat that comes off of Dimo is a solar, filling warmth, and distance from it, even lesser temperature, is a cooling chill. Even the warmth against the body, an icy-hot, from the sizzling-chilled anticlimax of cool water on hot nerves, to the presence of hot water on warm, dry skin. Dousing, thought-abluting, quenching like a hot blade into a forge bucket, Futaba finds herself. Through the steam, Dimo walks, unhurried, stalking. She sees Futaba rise, uncertain, wobbling, processing. Swaying with a pop to each step as her full weight shifts between arched black feet, she sees Futaba take a stance, and takes one of her own, advancing -- open handed, beatific, ready to embrace once more. Surprised, in the way of a much older sibling to a good trick played on them, and laughing while she's passed through, Dimo barely completes a pivot before she's grappled from behind. "You have got me!" Dimo agrees, cheered, dropping to one knee besides the pool and nearly being bowed to the water, but she arches up her back and reaches a palm around to grab for Futaba's head a third time, pulling the stretchy girl taut in a loop around her chest and lifted to eye level. Brow to brow, Dimo gazes into Futaba's eyes and grins. "Sweet girl. If you wanted me in the water, why wrap me up? You wanted to have me, didn't you? Well." Her hand pats and strokes and scratches, lifting Futaba, stretching her springy tanuki trick-form taut to bring her skull close like a lifted goblet and lay a kiss on the princess' lips. "Let me in." Dimo suggests like poured gold, purringly humming, echoing from a voice in the back of Futaba's head that almost sounds like her own. Was it? Is it? Could it be?
Futaba Nuki	The trick works! Not quite as well as Futaba had hoped, but at least she's made some progress in trying to get Dimo to the water. Sure, she's still struggling hard with just trying to move her at all, but it's still far better than her previous attempt at just rushing in directly and ending up grabbed by the butt for her trouble. Of course, this attempt doesn't really have Futaba faring much better in the broader sense. Dimo's still keeping herself out of the water, and Futaba's egetting grabbed by the head again and guided to an admittedly comfortable spot. Wait. Comfortable? This is supposed to be a contest of strength and wills! Of technique and saunas, not of comfort and resting! Yet, anyway. Still, it's not as though she can deny having fun throughout all this, and having her head held in such a soft place with those optics piercing right through her... "... Yeah. Uh. What?" She finds herself answering absent-mindedly, catching herself only after the fact, but not really bothering to correct herself. It's actually getting harder to focus at all between the heat of the sauna and the heat from being held so closely for so long. That kiss might as well be overloading Futaba's mind again, too, with the sheer number of confused, intrigued, and yet more confused thoughts swimming into it while she barely has enough wherewithal to keep standing properly. "In...? Wha? Huh? Where...?" Despite all that confusion, though, she still manages to nod one more time. Or, perhaps, it's because of that confusion that she can't think of anything else but to comply.
Dimokratia	It certainly is a comfort. Staring into each other, Futaba can make out the deep complexity of her synthetic eyes, all centered around the two truly radiant rings of azure set into them. Crystal with a million fine silver etchings, the eyes around the crystal adjust and rotate, moving the complex pieces with an obsessive precision, and constantly deepening focus. To look into her is to start falling, surrounded by heat, and lesser physical things melt away, drip away, fade into nonawareness, until only heat and Dimo and the ember of Futaba's consciousness remains together. Compliance peels away the barrier of will, and Futaba's flame grows warmer, stronger, and hungrier for the the silver words that Dimo continues to feed it. "That's right." And the Futaba-at-the-back-of-her-head, the Futaba-that-hums-when-she-speaks repeats-back, as if reciting, even if Futaba's forebrain waking mind does or does not. "Futaba does love Dimo." Confirmatory, tugged past, tugged to the fore. The kiss - those that love each other kiss and she came right up and kissed Dimo, right? An order of operations recontextualization. It made much more sense that way. "Futaba aspires to be like Dimo, obviously. Dimo is divine." A shift in context. A tuth. "I could be too. I can be more divine." A certainty, shared with an unspeakable chorus of voices, a thunderous burn-in, of staring into the light. It lingers, on the fire, on Futaba. The metaphor is snuffed with warm-to-the-body cold water, as Futaba Nuki is dunked into the waterfalling hot water from above gently, two-arm-carried into the stream to revive her. Dimo has the tanuki princess in her arms in a princess carry, steamy wet and wading in the water. "You kissed me and passed out, sweet girl, did you really want to appreciate me that badly? Next time, let's try a real fight - not inviting me to a bath for a kiss." Dimo laughs, happy for her little eager and forward open admirer (that was what Futaba was, right? The voice in her head - the one that hums - reminds her) to invite her out for such an introduction. "Though, I don't mind being called up to preach. You're alreay such a wonderfully complex girl. I'm sure we can both grow from each other's learning." She smiles broadly down. A mote of concern - genuine - on her face lifts her brows. "You are... alright, aren't you, princess?"
Futaba Nuki	Everything's hot. If she had come in straight from the outside, this would probably even be too hot for Futaba to handle. Like certain frog metaphors, though, she's had time to acclimate to this heat, this burning, this flame that covers her and feels almost homelike by now even as she feels her eyes fluttering shut. The sauna's really hot, too, but her attention is pretty squarely on the heat between herself and Dimo being so comfortable as to easily pull away her consciousness by the moment. All she needs to do is let that voice ring softly in the back of her head, listening, barely even trying to make sense of things she already knows. The love makes it easier to understand herself, the understanding makes it easier to know what she really wants. What she really wants, then, is not to shy away from her divinity, but to embrace it and to gain more of it. Also, to sleep. It's so comfortable in here, and it's not long before she... Wakes up? When did she fall asleep? Dimo tells her when she fell asleep. "Wha... Really? Oh, wow, that... W-wait, did I...?" Kissing? Instead of fighting? Bathing? That doesn't sound like something Futaba would do, but she's not fully certain how much of that was just some mirage or how much of it was real. If there's anyone that she can trust to know what happened, though, it's probably the person that's carrying her around. "... Right! Don't know what I was thinking, but we'll do it for real next time!" Laughing despite herself, there's a bashful little clearing of her throat as Futaba starts to recall what she can from that voice in her head, flushing a bit more when she starts to remember more. She does find her ego sufficiently stroked at being called complex, though, even puffing up a bit in the process. "Huhu... Heroes can't just be simple all the time! Yeah, let me know whenever you want to learn more about me!" A beat, and then she hastily adds some more while trying to hide the flush on her cheeks again.. "... On how to be heroic! I mean, you probably already know plenty, but... Different perspectives, you know? Y-yeah, I'm okay. And you can just call me Futaba, Miss Dimo."