Any Shelter [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 05-07-2017
His guess had been correct: she was utterly mortified. Eager to escape from his touch, worried that he'd rouse and catch her. He'd thought she might take at least a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to have so much close contact in her true form, but fear overruled any curiosity she may have had.
Jean watched her through his eyelashes as she rifled through his things, desperate for something to cover herself. Such a rude little thief! He'd thought she'd be much faster to rid herself of the ribbons she had so clearly despised, but they were so small in proportion to the rest of her that they'd been forgotten entirely.
He allowed himself a yawn as she scurried for the door, and he rolled onto his side to see her better, propping his cheek up on one hand. "Leaving so soon?" he asked. "Without even a goodbye?" He clicked his tongue with disapproval. "I could find a dress for you, if you asked, but you are so eager to be rude you would rather walk the streets half-dressed."
Jean watched her through his eyelashes as she rifled through his things, desperate for something to cover herself. Such a rude little thief! He'd thought she'd be much faster to rid herself of the ribbons she had so clearly despised, but they were so small in proportion to the rest of her that they'd been forgotten entirely.
He allowed himself a yawn as she scurried for the door, and he rolled onto his side to see her better, propping his cheek up on one hand. "Leaving so soon?" he asked. "Without even a goodbye?" He clicked his tongue with disapproval. "I could find a dress for you, if you asked, but you are so eager to be rude you would rather walk the streets half-dressed."
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 05-07-2017
Bree had her hand on the door when she heard the one thing she dreaded most in life at that moment. Jean's voice.
She froze. Her entire body locked solid; even her mind seemed to cease functioning. Her ears plastered down against her head so hard they couldn't even be seen amongst the fluff.
...Should she run...?
Instead she turned, slowly, to face judgement day. Jean lounged on his side on the bed, half-dressed. The two of them, she suspected, looked every bit as though they had been getting up to activities much more dangerous than they had been the night before.
She was mortified. She was beyond mortified. She was inventing new levels of utter humiliation, the likes of which had never been felt by humankind before. Her cheeks, hell, it felt like her whole body was burning red. She actually felt like she might cry.
She had no idea what to say in this situation. Every time she thought she might find something, another realization struck her. He knew it was her. That was bad enough, but as she began recovering, he has now connected Bree with the little dog he bathed and fed caviar and pet and cuddled with. He knew he'd done those things to her. She would be impressed at his own lack of embarrassment if not so distracted by her own palpable distress. She kind of wanted to just die, on the spot, so she wouldn't have to deal with this.
"I-I-I-I"
The most pressing issue made itself known, by thrusting itself wholesale out of her mouth. "I wasn't being a pervert! You just picked me up and brought me home and you were the one who did all that stuff and it wasn't like I could stop you and besides I was a dog so really it's not like it was weird." It burst from her mouth like machine gun fire, tears beginning to burn at the corners of her eyes.
Her largest concern apparently voiced, a much more significant one made itself known. Her eyes widened into saucers. "Wait. How long have you been awake?"
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 05-13-2017
Cinnamon and ginger cookies, entirely too strong, strong enough that if it were a real taste it would burn his tongue.
Delightful.
He stretched out as he rose, flashing sharp teeth as he yawned, a groan of a sound that he was well aware had a peculiar appeal in conjunction with the arch of his back. He ran his hand through his hair, tidying it not at all as he stood, one hand in his pocket.
"Calm, please," he said, free hand gesturing in the air to suggest she ought to tone it down – or possibly kneel on the floor. It could have meant either. Either was fine. "I have accused you of no such thing, and I do not think that I care for your tone when I have tried to be such a gracious host." He made a sweeping gesture toward her. "I find a cute creature in distress, I bring you home for safety and comfort, and yet now I find you desperate to escape." He pressed a hand to his sternum. "Have I been unkind in some way, that you would treat me thus? I had thought we were getting along quite well."
He blinked as he considered her question, then shrugged. "I have no need of sleep," he said without the slightest hint of shame. "Mais, when a tiny pup rests on a person, it is the polite thing not to disturb it, yes? You looked so sweet, after all. It would have been a crime to move you."
Delightful.
He stretched out as he rose, flashing sharp teeth as he yawned, a groan of a sound that he was well aware had a peculiar appeal in conjunction with the arch of his back. He ran his hand through his hair, tidying it not at all as he stood, one hand in his pocket.
"Calm, please," he said, free hand gesturing in the air to suggest she ought to tone it down – or possibly kneel on the floor. It could have meant either. Either was fine. "I have accused you of no such thing, and I do not think that I care for your tone when I have tried to be such a gracious host." He made a sweeping gesture toward her. "I find a cute creature in distress, I bring you home for safety and comfort, and yet now I find you desperate to escape." He pressed a hand to his sternum. "Have I been unkind in some way, that you would treat me thus? I had thought we were getting along quite well."
He blinked as he considered her question, then shrugged. "I have no need of sleep," he said without the slightest hint of shame. "Mais, when a tiny pup rests on a person, it is the polite thing not to disturb it, yes? You looked so sweet, after all. It would have been a crime to move you."
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 05-13-2017
Bree flattened against the door so fast she made an audible thump, despite the fact Jean was simply standing and not, in fact, coming any closer. She was, on some level, aware that he was attractive, but it was once again being drowned out by all the humiliation, fear, and intense confusion she so often felt around him. Walls had been rapidly crushed between "Jean around a dog" and "Jean around a Bree" and she was lost in the chaos of it. "I'm, I, um, I didn't, I'm not," she stammered, mind spinning, attempting to find something resembling solid ground to stand on. She found it in his answer to her question, though she was definitely not calming down in the least. The opposite, in fact. Her entire body was on fire, with more emotion than she had any idea what to do with. She wished she could vomit it all out, and be calm and collected and deal with this situation, but she had no idea how.
No need of sleep. He'd been awake the entire time? It was actually worse than her fear, astoundingly. He hadn't just seen her naked, he'd been awake, when, when...
One hand flew to her mouth in shock, one of the tears burning in her eye slipping down a cheek. Her legs threatened to give out; her whole body was flush with mortification. She couldn't help it. She was aware, on some level, that this would not be a huge deal for many women her age. She could have strolled right out, head held high, as if she had nothing in the world to be ashamed of.
She was not that strong.
She tried to convince herself it wasn't as big a deal as it felt. It wasn't as though he'd touched her or anything, not as a human, not really, it had been the briefest contacts and she'd gotten off right away and gotten dressed and anyway he didn't seem to think it was anything like a big deal! He'd probably seen thousands of women in much more compromised positions, enough that seeing her nude was probably just a blase, boring sort of thing, if not utterly unappealing entirely. He probably had no idea why she was freaking out.
Why was this making her feel worse.
And why was none of this startling to him?! Even her sudden transformation from a small dog to a somewhat large, extremely naked woman, on top of him, and not even a BLINK? He'd just kept...
Pretending to... be asleep...
Why pretend to be to asleep?
And why not be surprised by a dog turning into a woman? Even a little? Even if he'd seen such things before, why not be surprised that it was her, specifically? Things clicked into suggestive place in her mind, a pattern hinting at a conclusion she did not want to draw.
"Did you know I was a person?" she asked, voice shaking. Quieter than she wanted it to be, when she felt it in her heart like an accusation. But she wanted him to say no, he had no idea, he was just blessed with an extremely good poker face.
She didn't think she'd believe him, thinking about it, but she ached with the desire to go back to thinking he was just strangely fond of small dogs, or even that maybe she was kind of appealing in that form, at least.
"...Did you know it was me?" she asked, even quieter, tone practically begging. She was clutching at the front of her shirt... or, his shirt, she supposed, but it was hers now because she was not taking it off.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 02-03-2019
Careful, now.
His eyes were a pale blue, and it would be so easy. A choice word, a strategic reminder of the things she'd done, that he'd said.
His thigh twinged.
"Do you remember, then?" he wondered.
It was not usually his preference to lie outright, but he would need to be so careful with this one, delicate as spun sugar, strong as raw ginger. He wouldn't push. He was behaving.
But it would be so easy.
"You had never told me the specifics of this trouble of yours," he pointed out. "I still do not quite know the trigger, if it is the state of the moon or some other thing." This all, at least, was true. "Sometimes a kiss is all that it takes, mais, alas. I see now it was not necessary." He scratched idly at his stubble with the points of sharp nails. "Some with this affliction do not recall one form while in the other, oui?" This, also, was true. "You did not seem to recognize me, and behaved as a dog would behave. It seemed prudent, under the circumstances, to assume that you did not know you were a person, and care for you accordingly."
It had been obvious all through that her mind was not a dog's mind. But she had no way of knowing what he knew. Not that it necessarily mattered. People were always overestimating what he knew and getting angry at him accordingly. He didn't usually need to care.
He had assumed that she would remember, but he'd never had a basis for it. Just a hunch.
"I did not want you, ah. Snatched up, by one who did not know your circumstances. This seemed safer, until you were well. I had thought to make the situation pleasant for you." He cocked his head to one side. "Was this incorrect?"
His eyes were a pale blue, and it would be so easy. A choice word, a strategic reminder of the things she'd done, that he'd said.
His thigh twinged.
"Do you remember, then?" he wondered.
It was not usually his preference to lie outright, but he would need to be so careful with this one, delicate as spun sugar, strong as raw ginger. He wouldn't push. He was behaving.
But it would be so easy.
"You had never told me the specifics of this trouble of yours," he pointed out. "I still do not quite know the trigger, if it is the state of the moon or some other thing." This all, at least, was true. "Sometimes a kiss is all that it takes, mais, alas. I see now it was not necessary." He scratched idly at his stubble with the points of sharp nails. "Some with this affliction do not recall one form while in the other, oui?" This, also, was true. "You did not seem to recognize me, and behaved as a dog would behave. It seemed prudent, under the circumstances, to assume that you did not know you were a person, and care for you accordingly."
It had been obvious all through that her mind was not a dog's mind. But she had no way of knowing what he knew. Not that it necessarily mattered. People were always overestimating what he knew and getting angry at him accordingly. He didn't usually need to care.
He had assumed that she would remember, but he'd never had a basis for it. Just a hunch.
"I did not want you, ah. Snatched up, by one who did not know your circumstances. This seemed safer, until you were well. I had thought to make the situation pleasant for you." He cocked his head to one side. "Was this incorrect?"
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 02-06-2019
Her heart pounded in her ears. She willed herself to breathe, listening to his explanation. He, at least, was perfectly calm, the contrast to her burning panic. She wouldn't say it was soothing, but it helped. Helped remind her that she could think, she didn't have to just react. He had known it was her, but thought she was just a mindless dog lost in the park. That was...
Well, it was a huge relief. This was an acceptable story, and she latched onto it like a lifeline in a stormy ocean. She ran through it in her mind, Jean seeing her in the park, realizing what she was, and maybe that she was scared. Assuming she had been caught unawares by her curse, perhaps, he'd taken her back to his home to care for her and make sure she didn't come to any serious harm until she either changed back on her own or he could figure out how to make her. If he'd had a bit of unnecessary fun with it, well, this was Jean. Unnecessary fun was kind of his whole thing. He'd had no idea that she'd turn into a naked woman on top of him. Pretending to be asleep was a bit suspicious, but maybe he was just trying to give her a little dignity until she'd been clearly about to flee from his house in nothing but a night shirt.
That was nice, she told herself as bluntly as she could. He'd done a nice thing, and she wasn't going to blow up at him for it.
She desperately wanted to. He'd seen things that no one outside of her immediate family had seen. A thousand warning bells were screaming in terrified alarm, a lifetime of secrecy and shame shaking her to her core. Her legs were still trembling wildly; she felt like she might collapse. She took a few breaths, not deep, but as much as she could manage.
She should probably thank him. She didn't think she could physically bring herself to do it.
Voice tight and breathy with anxiety, she managed to choke out, "Well, I could have done without the last five minutes."
That wasn't exactly his fault though. Probably. She should probably say that out loud. When she opened her mouth to, however, what came out instead was halfway to a whimper.
Embarassing. Alright. No more trying to talk for a second. She took a few more breaths, deeper this time, eyes closed as if trying to pretend she wasn't half-collapsed against the inside of Jean's bedroom door while he stood half-naked by his bed. A bed she'd just been in. A bed that was very comfortable, and that she'd love to collapse into right now if not for the fact he was right there. Unfortunately for her, the list of things she could get away with as a dog and as a person were very different.
When she opened her eyes, they had slightly less panic in them. "Sorry." It was somehow easier than thank you. "You're just the first person who..." She gestured vaguely at her ears, then the rest of her. It might seem like she was talking about seeing her naked, which was true, but he didn't need to know that, so she clarified. "The change. Seen it. I'm not used to... I need to. Uh. I need to... go."
And she did, but more abruptly, she realized she'd been gone all night for the first time ever in her life. Her mother probably thought she was dead. Her cell phone, her wallet, all of her stuff actually, was in a pile of clothing in the park bushes. It would be a miracle if it was even still there at all.
"...Actually do you have a phone," she asked through clenched teeth. "...And clothes. Please. For both of us," she added pointedly. He needed to stop being shirtless, immediately, and she needed pants just as desperately.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 02-09-2019
His sense of victory was immense, but fortunately she was not the one who could sense emotions. Relief like cool cream, but she was still so full of sharp fear.
She wasn't going to have an immediate breakdown, but she was still on the brink of… bursting? Into tears, into emotional release of all the tension she was now so filled with.
"I am your first?" he asked for confirmation. "I hope that I have made it a pleasant memory for you, then."
She was doing better than he would have expected at controlling herself without his assistance. He chose to take credit it for it, anyway. Had he not put work in to teaching her calm? He deserved at least a little credit, surely. What progress he had made!
He made a thoughtful sound, turned around to open a drawer on his nightstand. There was a small, threadbare toy rabbit, with a seam torn out in the back, trailing wadded stuffing. He'd tucked his phone inside the thing to hide the taste of it in a fit of annoyance. He'd grown weary of word games, texted images and dirty talk that didn't even feed him. He'd managed to forget about it entirely, and perhaps in a few months he would have wondered why he hadn't heard from certain people in some time.
"Here," he said, offering it to her – the battery long dead. This did not occur to him. He forgot, often, about batteries.
His eyes ran over her briefly. "I will pick something out for you," he decided. "Un moment, s'il vous plait." He headed for the closet without waiting for confirmation.
She wasn't going to have an immediate breakdown, but she was still on the brink of… bursting? Into tears, into emotional release of all the tension she was now so filled with.
"I am your first?" he asked for confirmation. "I hope that I have made it a pleasant memory for you, then."
She was doing better than he would have expected at controlling herself without his assistance. He chose to take credit it for it, anyway. Had he not put work in to teaching her calm? He deserved at least a little credit, surely. What progress he had made!
He made a thoughtful sound, turned around to open a drawer on his nightstand. There was a small, threadbare toy rabbit, with a seam torn out in the back, trailing wadded stuffing. He'd tucked his phone inside the thing to hide the taste of it in a fit of annoyance. He'd grown weary of word games, texted images and dirty talk that didn't even feed him. He'd managed to forget about it entirely, and perhaps in a few months he would have wondered why he hadn't heard from certain people in some time.
"Here," he said, offering it to her – the battery long dead. This did not occur to him. He forgot, often, about batteries.
His eyes ran over her briefly. "I will pick something out for you," he decided. "Un moment, s'il vous plait." He headed for the closet without waiting for confirmation.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 02-09-2019
Her first. "Don't say it like that!" she snapped, quickly forgetting her intention to be grateful in the face of such humiliation. Her face was already so red that it couldn't really get more flushed, but she felt like steam might release from her ears. Speaking of ears, she quickly set the scarf over her head, ignoring the fact that it would probably look ridiculous. It might have seemed completely pointless to anyone watching--say, Jean, for instance--but she thought that maybe it would give her a bit of dignity in this horror-show of a situation.
It didn't.
The worst part was that he was a significant number of her firsts at this stage. She'd never stayed overnight at someone else's house before. No one outside of her family had seen her as a dog, let alone seen her transform, let alone seen her naked. Maybe he'd had his eyes closed for that part. She decided to think that he had.
Jean pulled a rabbit out of his nightstand. Then he pulled a phone out of the rabbit. This was completely bewildering on several levels. For one, she'd expected a house phone. He just didn't seem the type to have a smart phone; it clashed horribly with his image in her opinion. The rabbit was incomprehensible. Why did he even have a stuffed rabbit? Maybe he didn't understand volume controls, and found the ringer offensively loud...? She went to check the volume, and found the phone turned off. She pressed the power button. Nothing. She held the power button. Nothing.
"...Le... Mr. Cernunnos," she called, managing to catch herself. She rarely called him by name, but he mostly called her "Miss Corey" so it seemed appropriate enough. "Where's the charger?" She pulled open the nightstand he's gotten the rabbit from, hoping to find it nearby. Was that an entire box of condoms?! She slammed it shut, face flaming. Just the sight of condoms had so many horrible implications. Worse, her mind was suggesting all sorts of things she could do now that she was here and naked, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with any of them.
Jean had vanished into his closet. Unwilling to follow him in, and equally unwilling to dig through his nightstands for a charger, she sat down on the edge of his bed.
God. He had such a nice bed. It felt even nicer on bare legs. She was tempted to ask him where he bought his sheets, but it was a stupid question... she'd never be able to afford them, most likely. She glared down at the dead cell phone. She would have just asked him for change for a pay phone if 1) payphones still existed and 2) she believed for a second he even knew what a quarter WAS.
Why was it taking him so long in a closet?! Finally getting tired of waiting, she stood and walked hesitantly closer to the door he'd gone through. "Mr. Cernunnos?" she called out again, not quite poking her head in for fear of seeing him in some state of undress.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 10-18-2019
Bree's discretion was either fortunate or a terrible waste, because Jean was wearing less now than he'd been when first he entered the closet. His plan had been to dress himself as he hunted down clothing for her, but none of his clothes seemed to suit his mood. He'd ruined too many good outfits, was the trouble. He'd never quite gotten around to replacing his most Romantic articles of clothing.
Picking out something for her was much easier. His options were limited by her arms, but a backless gown with flimsy straps at the shoulders and a plunging neckline didn't have enough fabric in those places for the fit to be a problem. The skirt of it didn't quite reach the floor, a layered tulle confection in black that revealed glimpses of legs beneath, the whole dress covered in flowers of gold.
Pretty enough, with her coloring. She'd likely hate it, but surely she was capable enough of recognizing quality to accept it anyway. Finding shoes she could walk in would be far more difficult a trial.
"Hm?" He sighed at her impatience, setting the dress aside and claiming a robe of black silk for himself. He only loosely tied it at his waist, falling only to mid-thigh and only barely decent. Collecting the dress, he swanned out of the closet and pressed it to her until she had enough of a grip on it that it wouldn't fall to the floor.
"Here," he decided. "This one, I think, should fit you." Did not say, but implied, that her options were limited by her own body and this was the best she could hope for. He considered her with a sweep of his eyes, well aware that she'd tried snooping and found more than she'd bargained for. His robe was nearly falling off his shoulder.
"You may change in the bathroom, if you prefer."
Picking out something for her was much easier. His options were limited by her arms, but a backless gown with flimsy straps at the shoulders and a plunging neckline didn't have enough fabric in those places for the fit to be a problem. The skirt of it didn't quite reach the floor, a layered tulle confection in black that revealed glimpses of legs beneath, the whole dress covered in flowers of gold.
Pretty enough, with her coloring. She'd likely hate it, but surely she was capable enough of recognizing quality to accept it anyway. Finding shoes she could walk in would be far more difficult a trial.
"Hm?" He sighed at her impatience, setting the dress aside and claiming a robe of black silk for himself. He only loosely tied it at his waist, falling only to mid-thigh and only barely decent. Collecting the dress, he swanned out of the closet and pressed it to her until she had enough of a grip on it that it wouldn't fall to the floor.
"Here," he decided. "This one, I think, should fit you." Did not say, but implied, that her options were limited by her own body and this was the best she could hope for. He considered her with a sweep of his eyes, well aware that she'd tried snooping and found more than she'd bargained for. His robe was nearly falling off his shoulder.
"You may change in the bathroom, if you prefer."
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 10-18-2019
She'd expected some kind of permission to enter; what she got instead was the closet door opening the rest of the way to reveal Jean in a black bathrobe that only barely counted as such. Especially the way he was wearing it. She couldn't imagine why someone as rich as him would have clothing too small for him, but that was her first thought. It was barely tied, hanging open to reveal his entire chest, which was somehow more scandalous when even partially covered. As she stumbled backwards, she couldn't help but notice it was also alarmingly short. The fear of seeing something she really oughtn't kept her neck craned back to look up at him rather than down at the floor, where she might prefer her range of vision be. He was distressingly gorgeous, so much so that she didn't even notice the dress until he thrust it into her hands. And even then, it took her a moment to tear her eyes away from him and figure out what she was holding.
This was. This was, uh, a ball gown of some sort? She blinked, uncomprehending of why he'd given it to her, until he explained that this was what he was giving her to walk home in.
"This is way too expens--" she began protesting immediately, horrified, then cut herself off, remembering who she was talking to. Nothing was too expensive for him, and he probably was not in possession of some sweats she could throw on. God even knew why even had this, some leftover formal wear that an ex had left here to avoid her own walk of shame home in it.
...This was not going to be considerably less humiliating than an oversized night shirt, at this time of the day. She had to walk home. People in gowns like this did not walk. ...Perhaps she could ask him for cab fare, and pretend this was just a Cinderella situation, and she'd been swept out of her downtown apartment for a night of ballrooms and debauchery.
Situation with the phone briefly forgotten, she pulled at the front of the dress. It had only slightly more fabric than the back, which had none at all.
"If I put this on over the shirt, you'll throw me wholesale out of your house, won't you," she said with a sigh, halfway to herself. "And asking you if you have a camisole would be absolutely pointless." His expression spoke for itself, and she was trying not to look at him for too long, lest he come the rest of the way undressed. Her mind was lingering on fictional ballrooms and all-too-real condoms and the feel of his steadily breathing chest underneath her.
If she was the kind of heroine she was imagining presenting to a cabbie, she'd strip right there, saying something bold about how it was nothing he hadn't already seen. She could turn her humiliation into a choice, into a running joke between the two of them, if she just had the courage.
She super did not.
"Yeah, I'll... Oh. While I'm in there, could you find the charger?" She held up the phone, giving it a little shake. "This thing is deader than my dignity." She dropped it into his hand, trying very hard to avoid skin-on-skin contact and failing.
She scrambled into the bathroom, trying not to blush visibly, and closed the door behind her. The door didn't seem to have a lock. Of course not. Ridiculous, decadent asshole, why wouldn't he want to get walked in on in the bath.
Mmm. This room was not considerably smaller now that she was person-sized. It hadn't been a trick of perspective; he just had a ridiculously huge bathroom.
"Jesus," she muttered under her breath, strolling over to the centerpiece bathtub. "Just look at this thing! I bet it cost more than my whole apartment." Barefoot, out of her comfort zone so far that she was in the next solar system over, and feeling a bit bold, she climbed up and slid into the empty tub. Stretching her leg out, she couldn't touch the far wall. This wasn't just how the other half lived; this would make the other half turn green with envy.
She glanced at the dress in her arms with a sigh. She had no idea how to put this on. It was so much sheer fabric, and she felt overwhelmed. But... it was a dress. There were the straps. There was the skirt. How hard could it be?
She stood and half-leapt out of the bath--unnecessary feats of athleticism made her feel better--and wandered over to one of the many, many full-length mirrors in the hopes that it would assist. It was at that point that she noticed the ribbons, and remembered. She stared in abject horror for a long moment. She certainly did look some kind of way in one of Jean's dress shirts with ribbons tied onto her stupid, stupid ears. Nearly crying with the mortification of it all, she tore the ribbons off and tossed them furiously into one of the sinks, then stripped out of the shirt and chucked it in there too. She would remember she was supposed to be grateful later. Right now, she was dying inside and just wanted to go home and forget this had ever happened.
The dress hadn't come with bra or underwear, but she didn't really expect him to have either of those things, so she just tried to wriggle into it. She'd expected her hips to be more of a problem then they were; she'd expected her lack of bra to be more of an issue as well. Now she was beginning to suspect that both had been fully accounted for by the maker of the dress. No, the hardest part was going to be the front. It wasn't just low cut, it plunged down wildly between her breasts. It was absurd. It wasn't all the way to her stomach, but it was still absolutely absurd. How was she supposed to keep this from draping open if she had to bend over or something? Totally impractical. An outfit should not require tape, but she would have killed for some right now.
Whatever. She just had to get home in the damn thing. She adjusted a few more times in the mirror, scowling at the lack of coverage. She twisted around to adjust the (lack of a) back, and tried to pretend that she didn't think the muscles of her shoulders and back looked totally amazing in it. Her legs, too, looked great in the glimpses that the layered, gauzy material allowed. She shouldn't think so. No one else would. But it wasn't like she could spend as much time as she did working on her body and not admire it sometimes.
She rested Jean's shirt over her shoulders like a loose jacket. It made her look very much like a different woman, one who took a prize after she left a man's house. The sight of her ears in the mirror ruined it, however, reminding her that she wasn't that woman. She was this one, and that came with severe limitations. She sighed and tied the scarf back around her ears, hating how she resented it for not looking as nice as the dress. Then she clutched his shirt to her front in an attempt to hide the ludicrous amounts of cleavage she had been given by the cut of it, and opened the bathroom door.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 11-29-2019
Jean frowned at the little phone as she closed herself into the bathroom. Charger. Not charger. A thing, then, that came with a phone. Did he have one of those? Were there other bits that had come with the phone?
Right. Yes. The cord that had come with the thing.
He looked behind his nightstand, and found it still plugged in beside his lamp. He reached back to pull it out, and stuck it into the phone, leaving it on the table. To think they made such a fuss over the phones being wireless when they still needed so many horrible little cords. Might as well just leave them hooked up, really. Except that the whole thing still tasted wretched, and he'd rather not have to keep it out.
He found himself some underwear, sliding off his robe and hanging it back up in the closet. He settled, for now, for basic black trousers and a white button-down. A good foundation to build on. An undershirt, first, skipping suspenders because a belt was always useful to have on hand. He tucked in his shirt, and found a black waistcoat embroidered in a gold brocade. It might be a bit much for a bookseller, but it would match his houseguest well enough. He found a black jacket with gold buttons and trim, hunting down a golden pocket square. Shiny black loafers would do just fine.
Oh, but she was upset. Pomegranate lemonade without enough sugar, poor thing. She was just so goddamn easy. They'd get that fixed soon enough, if he could keep working on her. Shore her up a bit until she didn't burst into tears at a stiff breeze, or waking up naked on a man's chest before he played dress-up with her.
It was much too nice a dress to be throwing fits over.
He put his hair up loose with a gold comb, and emerged from his closet in time to catch her coming out of his bathroom. "Ah!" He clapped his hands together. "Lovely, let me see." He came closer with long steps, snatching the shirt out of her hands and tossing it over his shoulder to take her in. "You really are built for it," he admired, hands floating above her arms and never touching her, running an inch away from her skin instead. "Better with a necklace and a bit of makeup, I should think—and without this." He flicked at the scarf, but didn't rip it off of her. "I will find you a better one," he decided, herding her toward the other full-length mirror he kept in the bedroom before digging through one of his dressers. He found something gauzy and black, run through with real gold thread.
"Here," he said, coming up behind her so he could admire her in the mirror. "If you insist, then we must do this properly, oui?" He pulled the old scarf away, and gently draped the new one carefully over her hair and her ears. He looped it loose around her neck, arranging it into a cowl evocative of glamour rather than shame. He somehow managed to secure it without ever touching her skin, and when he was done his hands hovered near her shoulders. "There," he said. "Better, yes?"
What a pretty matched set they made.
Right. Yes. The cord that had come with the thing.
He looked behind his nightstand, and found it still plugged in beside his lamp. He reached back to pull it out, and stuck it into the phone, leaving it on the table. To think they made such a fuss over the phones being wireless when they still needed so many horrible little cords. Might as well just leave them hooked up, really. Except that the whole thing still tasted wretched, and he'd rather not have to keep it out.
He found himself some underwear, sliding off his robe and hanging it back up in the closet. He settled, for now, for basic black trousers and a white button-down. A good foundation to build on. An undershirt, first, skipping suspenders because a belt was always useful to have on hand. He tucked in his shirt, and found a black waistcoat embroidered in a gold brocade. It might be a bit much for a bookseller, but it would match his houseguest well enough. He found a black jacket with gold buttons and trim, hunting down a golden pocket square. Shiny black loafers would do just fine.
Oh, but she was upset. Pomegranate lemonade without enough sugar, poor thing. She was just so goddamn easy. They'd get that fixed soon enough, if he could keep working on her. Shore her up a bit until she didn't burst into tears at a stiff breeze, or waking up naked on a man's chest before he played dress-up with her.
It was much too nice a dress to be throwing fits over.
He put his hair up loose with a gold comb, and emerged from his closet in time to catch her coming out of his bathroom. "Ah!" He clapped his hands together. "Lovely, let me see." He came closer with long steps, snatching the shirt out of her hands and tossing it over his shoulder to take her in. "You really are built for it," he admired, hands floating above her arms and never touching her, running an inch away from her skin instead. "Better with a necklace and a bit of makeup, I should think—and without this." He flicked at the scarf, but didn't rip it off of her. "I will find you a better one," he decided, herding her toward the other full-length mirror he kept in the bedroom before digging through one of his dressers. He found something gauzy and black, run through with real gold thread.
"Here," he said, coming up behind her so he could admire her in the mirror. "If you insist, then we must do this properly, oui?" He pulled the old scarf away, and gently draped the new one carefully over her hair and her ears. He looped it loose around her neck, arranging it into a cowl evocative of glamour rather than shame. He somehow managed to secure it without ever touching her skin, and when he was done his hands hovered near her shoulders. "There," he said. "Better, yes?"
What a pretty matched set they made.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-29-2019
Upsettingly, Jean found something almost as attractive as the barely-there bathrobe to be wearing when she emerged from the bathroom. He was resplendent in a black suit that was, of course, made for him. The little touches of gold shone all the more for the darkness around it, and his pale skin was in sharp relief. He looked like a black and white painting someone had emphasized with gold leaf detailing. She was never going to get used to how pretty he was. It was a crime. Especially now that she'd seen him in more compromised positions, seen a bit of how he might live. Seen his bed and his bathroom and his criminally short bathrobes and extremely stressful underwear drawer.
He came too close and pulled her protective shirt layer away, and then continued being way too close, never quite touching her but somehow leaving her feeling quite flustered and a bit manhandled anyway. How did he manage to get her to go over to his mirror without even touching her? It was like even the threat of it was enough to get her moving.
Looking in the mirror, she thought maybe her shoulders were too broad. She liked the muscle, but it probably wasn't what people wanted in a dress like this. Someone slim and femme, with more charms to recommend them. Jean was probably flattering her, and she was trying to keep it from working.
She flushed darkly as he pulled her scarf away, staring into the mirror. It was a lot like being stripped, but she was so enchanted with the strangers in the mirror, looking like they were about to go out for an evening soiree or an opera or something. Her ears ruined the whole thing, but then he covered her back up with a scarf of gauzy black and gold, somehow made it look like an intentional statement piece and not something she wore out of pure necessity. She flushed darker, enchanted, and wondering why she kind of wanted him to pull the scarf down again, slowly. He wasn't touching her, barely, somehow, but all she could remember was how good his hands had felt petting her and the warmth of his body and rise and fall of his chest with her on top of it.
"Y-yeah." She managed not to squeak. Barely. She was never going to be able to explain this outfit to her mom. But she didn't have keys anymore, so she couldn't exactly wait until she left for work to go home. That reminded her of the importance of calling, and she managed to tear her attention away, finally, from the beautiful and alien couple in the mirror. "I just need to call my mom," she said, tone apologetic. "Then I'll get out of your hair."
She took quick steps towards where he'd plugged his phone in. She turned it on, then, hesitantly, sat on his bed, perched as delicately as a bird on a wire, as if she expected it to catipult her back off. She held down the power button, and this time, it turned on. Low charge, but as long as she left it plugged in, it should be fine. And now to--
The phone began buzzing wildly, dinging again and again as notifications came pouring in. Her eyes widened as a few snippits of texts popped up in the notifications. "I miss the way your--" "Can I come see you--" "Media Image Embedded" oh god that was somehow the worst, from the tiny preview box. She thumbed them to the side desperately as they came in, trying and failing not to read any. By the end of it, he had well over a hundred notifications. She turned to look at him, eyes wide.
"...No wonder you leave this thing turned off," she said finally. "The thirst is real."
She navigated to the actual phone part of the phone, noting with considerable amusement that he appeared to still have the default wallpaper. She pointedly ignored his contacts list and plugged her mom's phone number in. With a deep breath, she hit call and held it to her ear.
"Hello?" came her mom's voice, to Bree's extreme relief. She sounded confused, probably because of the strange number.
"Mom?"
"Bridget?! Where are you? What the hell is going on?"
"It's fine, mom, sorry I didn't call you. I'm at a..." She glanced sidelong at Jean. "...Friend's house," she finished awkwardly.
"A friend's house?! Well that's just so nice, while I'm at home freaking out!"
"Sorry, the change snuck up on me and I couldn't call--"
"Does she know? Never mind, that's not important. What the hell have you gotten into? Some fucking suit showed up at the apartment last night. Is this about your so-called 'scholarship money'? What did you do? He said he was with the library, yeah fucking right. Bridget Corey, did you borrow mob money or some shit, I swear to christ--"
Bree had lost the color in her face as her mom ranted on. "W-wait, someone came to the apartment?"
"Yeah, and he had your wallet, said you left it at work, like someone the size of a fridge works at the goddamned library..."
"Oh my god."
"Bridget what the fuck did you do? What did you bring back to my house?"
"Shit, fuck, shit... Mom, is Eric there?"
"Yeah, I had him come over after that fucker gave me the spooks--"
"Put him on the phone."
"What? No! Bridget, explain what the fuck is going on!"
"Mom, I can't explain right now, but I need you to listen to me. You need to get out of the apartment for a bit."
"What, like right now?"
"Pack up some shit for a few days and stay with Eric," Bree insisted.
"What the fuck did you get mixed up in?!"
"I'll take care of it! I just want to be sure you're-- Just go with Eric!" she snapped. "Mom, I promise I will take care of this. Just stay with Eric for a few days, think of it as a vacation."
"Oh, yeah, great vacation, trying to explain to my boyfriend that my daughter borrowed money from the mob for a library sciences degree--" Bree's mom hissed.
"It's not that! It's seriously just a misunderstanding. I'll get it sorted out, but just until I do..."
"What am I supposed to do with your wallet?"
"Just leave it at the apartment. Leave a key under the loose brick outside," she said, even though she didn't think going back to her apartment was a good idea when they had her address. Why hadn't she thought of that? Her fucking student ID had her mom's apartment address on it, neat as anything. Now they knew where she lived, fuck, goddamnit, shit, fuck...
"Bridget, do we need to go to the police?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "It's... seriously just a misunderstanding. It'll be sorted out in no time. I'll call you back when it is."
"Bridget, don't you dare hang--"
Bree hung up quickly, dropping the phone so she could ignore if it rang more easily.
She stared, briefly, into the middle distance, eyes wide in fear. How had she ever cared about Jean seeing her naked with this shit going on? She was an easily distracted idiot. All of her problems came crashing back into her. Whatever kidnapping or hit she'd interrupted, it had clearly been important. All she'd seen was "pretty girl" and now look where her impulsive idiocy had ended her? What if they hurt her mom? What was she going to do?!
She was trying very hard not to stress cry, her breath starting to come in faster gulps. Her eyes darted around the room, and landed on Jean.
...Jean. The infinitely rich, powerful immortal, who was apparently nice enough to pick stray dogs up off the ground, try and break their curses, and dress them up nicely afterwards.
"...So, I might need a favor," she said, voice small and shaking. "...Several favors." Nervously, she swallowed, with great difficulty. "I... think I need a place to stay. And, uh... do you know a lot about... werewolves?"
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 11-29-2019
Oh, dear.
He'd been in communication with quite a few people, hadn't he? After he'd figured out sending messages, and people had shown him the many different ways in which messages could be sent, almost all of them expressing a different preference. The little bubble, the little ghost, the little… wobbly thing. There were a lot of different mailboxes, each one more annoying than the last.
He'd have to go sorting through deciding which pets he'd want to keep. Perhaps he could pretend his phone had broken. It wasn't entirely a lie.
He leaned against the bedpost, eavesdropping shamelessly. What else was he going to do? Leave her alone in his room? Hardly.
He grinned crooked when she called him a friend. The lemon-drop taste of her panic increased the longer the conversation went on, and his eyes were light by the time she hung up. She was practically in tears. He watched her intently the entire time.
"Favors," he repeated slowly.
His thigh twinged.
With a wince and more than a little irritation, he sat on the bed beside her, rubbing at his thigh. Where had he left his cane? He'd been so distracted, while she'd been so cute and humiliated… he rubbed the area around the torn muscle, knowing it wouldn't help.
"You could always stay here, of course," he began, "as I believe it is the safest home in Valesport." Aside from the matter of his being in it. "Otherwise, I may know of another place that you could use, if you want it." He knew of several, but he had a particular place in mind. "You are going to have to be more specific," he chided. "You are having werewolf trouble, yes? Tell me about it, and we shall see what favors I may do for you."
He'd been in communication with quite a few people, hadn't he? After he'd figured out sending messages, and people had shown him the many different ways in which messages could be sent, almost all of them expressing a different preference. The little bubble, the little ghost, the little… wobbly thing. There were a lot of different mailboxes, each one more annoying than the last.
He'd have to go sorting through deciding which pets he'd want to keep. Perhaps he could pretend his phone had broken. It wasn't entirely a lie.
He leaned against the bedpost, eavesdropping shamelessly. What else was he going to do? Leave her alone in his room? Hardly.
He grinned crooked when she called him a friend. The lemon-drop taste of her panic increased the longer the conversation went on, and his eyes were light by the time she hung up. She was practically in tears. He watched her intently the entire time.
"Favors," he repeated slowly.
His thigh twinged.
With a wince and more than a little irritation, he sat on the bed beside her, rubbing at his thigh. Where had he left his cane? He'd been so distracted, while she'd been so cute and humiliated… he rubbed the area around the torn muscle, knowing it wouldn't help.
"You could always stay here, of course," he began, "as I believe it is the safest home in Valesport." Aside from the matter of his being in it. "Otherwise, I may know of another place that you could use, if you want it." He knew of several, but he had a particular place in mind. "You are going to have to be more specific," he chided. "You are having werewolf trouble, yes? Tell me about it, and we shall see what favors I may do for you."
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - SolitareLee - 11-29-2019
She winced at the way he said 'favors,' but it wasn't like she hadn't known how it sounded. "I'll find a way to pay you back," she promised, although she had literally no idea what she could offer. She was fresh out of childhood treasures, and most of her rarest books she gave to the library. He winced too, but it was directed at his leg. He rubbed at it, sitting down on the bed beside her. Under ordinary circumstances, she probably would have positively ricocheted away from him. But her face was a concerned frown, glancing down at the way he rubbed at his thigh. He had been fine all last night, but it was clearly bothering him this morning.
"Your cane is at the bottom of the stairs," she told him, remembering how he'd hooked the end against the railing before taking her upstairs to be 'bathed.' She couldn't remember him using it again that evening. "Do you want me to get it?" It might have been--almost surely was--presumptuous to ask, but he looked like he was in pain, and it was deeply upsetting to her. That instinct was exactly what had gotten her into this mess.
"Here?" she flushed with the concept, wanting to refuse immediately, but... when she stopped to consider it, that was probably the best idea. "That... that might work, actually." Nothing would come after her here. The wolves rarely came into Old Town, and nothing came near his house, let alone to it. As long as Eric could keep her mom safe long enough for her to take care of things... But how the fuck was she going to take care of things?!
"I fucked up," she confessed, rubbing her face in her hands, trying to rub away unshed tears burning at her eyes. "I really fucked up. There was this girl, and..." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It wouldn't do her any good to panic all over Jean Cernunnos, of all fucking people. It wasn't in her nature to make honest confessions, but she needed his help. She'd tell him whatever he wanted to know.
"Let me start earlier," she said, willing herself to breathe. Her ears were flat against her head under the scarf; her hands worked against each other anxiously. "The werewolves in this town have always hated me," she started. "I smell a bit too much like them, and it makes the little ones want to start shit. So I finish shit. It mostly stays on campus, so I never..." She rubbed her face again. "I was walking downtown, shopping. Close to Old Town. There was this woman, or well, I thought she was a woman, I'm admittedly unclear on that--" Not important! "--and she was being kidnapped. Dragged into a car. She was screaming. What was I supposed to do?" She groaned. "I fucking clocked a werewolf full in the face with a bag full of jars, grabbed her, and ran. I didn't realize until after I got a nose full of them that I'd interrupted some kind of fucking... werewolf gang hit or human trafficking kidnapping or something. Remember how you found me in the park last night? I was only out that late because werewolves were following me. I couldn't take them home. And then I shifted, and they were chasing me..." She shuddered, reminded of what would have happened if he hadn't found her.
"I'm not sure what they want, but it's definitely me and it might be me but dead." She was trying not to shake. She was failing. "Please, can you help me? I don't know what to do; they showed up at my mom's apartment." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes before one rolled down her cheek. She wiped at it quickly. "I, I'll try to repay you," she offered shakily. "Obviously I don't really have anything of value, but I could work in your shop while I'm here, catalog things for you. Whatever you need done. And if you can help me figure out how to fix this mess with the werewolves without anyone getting hurt..." she trailed off, at a complete loss for what to offer.
RE: Any Shelter [Closed] - Tindome - 11-29-2019
"Hmm." What a foolish place to have left it. "I have another in my closet, I am sure," he sighed.
He listened thoughtfully to her explanation, still all sour lemons with a touch of bitter pith. "So close to Old Town," he murmured. "I will need to do something about that." Snatching people up within walking distance just wouldn't do. How quickly these little packs of idiots forgot! He pulled a white silk handkerchief from his pocket to offer to her. "Anyone getting hurt?" he repeated. "That might be more difficult." Usually with this sort of thing he could just snap an alpha's neck and send them in a tizzy for a while. If he wasn't going to hurt anyone—
No, he'd hurt someone. He just wouldn't tell her about it, probably. Easier that way.
"You should try to calm down, Miss Corey," he said. "Close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Count back from ten." He waited. "Remember: nothing can hurt you here. You are safe. When you are feeling better, open your eyes, and we will assess the situation."
"Your mother has somewhere safe to stay?" he asked. "I can keep you safe here, if you wish it, but I would not have you fretting after her." If he had any recollection of the first time Bree had told him about her mother, he would have found this situation much funnier than he did. "I have no doubt that you will find a way to make yourself useful," he said.
"We will need to find you a pair of shoes that fits you, first," he mused. "Then we can get more clothes for you to wear during your stay, and anything else you may need. Will we need to return to your home for anything?" Toothbrushes and combs were things he kept on-hand, but perhaps she had particular items she required for work.
He listened thoughtfully to her explanation, still all sour lemons with a touch of bitter pith. "So close to Old Town," he murmured. "I will need to do something about that." Snatching people up within walking distance just wouldn't do. How quickly these little packs of idiots forgot! He pulled a white silk handkerchief from his pocket to offer to her. "Anyone getting hurt?" he repeated. "That might be more difficult." Usually with this sort of thing he could just snap an alpha's neck and send them in a tizzy for a while. If he wasn't going to hurt anyone—
No, he'd hurt someone. He just wouldn't tell her about it, probably. Easier that way.
"You should try to calm down, Miss Corey," he said. "Close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Count back from ten." He waited. "Remember: nothing can hurt you here. You are safe. When you are feeling better, open your eyes, and we will assess the situation."
"Your mother has somewhere safe to stay?" he asked. "I can keep you safe here, if you wish it, but I would not have you fretting after her." If he had any recollection of the first time Bree had told him about her mother, he would have found this situation much funnier than he did. "I have no doubt that you will find a way to make yourself useful," he said.
"We will need to find you a pair of shoes that fits you, first," he mused. "Then we can get more clothes for you to wear during your stay, and anything else you may need. Will we need to return to your home for anything?" Toothbrushes and combs were things he kept on-hand, but perhaps she had particular items she required for work.