Tweak

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Tweak says, "The Ginger Beer Trick."

Bellum Anon (bellum_anon) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-03-12 23:02:00

Entry tags:

Fables Plot Public Post!
Who: Public
What: The Open Post for Public Threading for the Epic Fable Plot
Where: Throughout the building.
When: 12:01
Warnings: Any number of crazy things could end up in here.
Notes: Alright! This post is for public threads only, and will be run party style. Anyone can jump into a thread at any time--just use your judgment! Feel free to hop around, go to different parts of the building, and mingle through the madness.

12:01. The beginning of a new day, just broken in, still fresh. Most of the building was sleeping, as decent people ought to be at such an hour.

The building, down at its foundations, was restless. A storm had been gathering for the past week, in its joints and its doorways, in its windows and its keyholes. 12:01, the storm broke over Bellum.

It was as if the building stretched, yawned, shook itself. There was a shudder in reality, as if the air itself was nothing more than a funhouse mirror. Faster than you could snap your fingers and the thing was done, set into motion before the darkest hours of the morning had yet come around.

A twitch, a snap, a static shock.

And then the changes started.

((OOC: Alright guys, go crazy! Feel free to post your location in the header of your comment so people can do a quick visual scan for the right comment and the right location. Mingle! Chat! Fight! Tackle one another!))

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-17 06:48 am UTC (link)

He was half-up on his paws before she even got all the way off the couch, but he sank back down as she gestured. There was a lot of stretching to see what she was doing, a bit of growling as his torn skin protested, then a slight whine as he pretended to lie flat again. By the time she turned back around, however, he'd inched to the opening of the kitchen to watch what she was doing, flat against the carpet. He lifted a large shaggy head when she turned around, and got to his feet again. His head came to nearly her collarbone.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-17 06:56 am UTC (link)

She gasped when she saw him, because she'd fully thought that she would hear something that big sneak up on her, and she might have been expecting him to have moved, but not that much. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her fear was a tangible thing for a moment, blending and swirling with the scent of roses.

She didn't shy away, however, despite the fact that he made her feel like something fragile and utterly tiny. Her chin tipped just a touch, and she held her ground. "You're good at sneaking," she finally told him, after her pulse had calmed and the fear had melted back to the curious-caution she'd been exuding since she'd been in the apartment.

"Do you have flowers?" she asked him hopefully. "Maybe on the balcony?" How she knew there was a balcony was something she didn't dwell on.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-17 07:14 am UTC (link)

He was not surprised that she was afraid of him. Quite the opposite. He was not pleased at this reaction, though, and slowly sank back down onto his paws as the strong scent of her fear overtook the rest. This was not the way it was supposed to go. Except it wasn't... but it wasn't. He hadn't meant to sneak. For some reason he didn't feel compelled to say that out loud. Instead he turned away a little at a time, sideways first, then circling back to the spot where he'd been before.

"No flowers. Plants. Some dead things. They're all dead. You smell like flowers. Why don't you make them?"

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-17 03:15 pm UTC (link)

She wasn't sure if you could say he had an actual expression on his face, but his body language was telling enough without it. It savored of rejection, and she felt a strange pang, an ache at possibly having hurt him with her reaction.

The water forgotten, she left the kitchen and walked back to where he was. She slowed as she neared him, but she didn't stop at the safe distance of the couch this time.

Instead, she very carefully and very intentionally knelt in front of him, and she sat back against her heels, watching him carefully as she moved. He was so much larger than her, that she couldn't see past him without craning, but his eyes looked kind, and maybe even a little sad. Her gaze fell to the blood on his fur, sorry that she'd caused him to move with her fear.

"I was just surprised," she explained, soft and careful and caring. "And a little scared," she admitted openly, having none of Ella's emotional walls. "I don't understand anything," she said, reaching out a tentative hand as she spoke, but only halfway, in case the touch wasn't welcome.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-17 09:34 pm UTC (link)

At first he didn't know what he was supposed to do as she came so near, retreat or stay put. He took one uncertain step backward, but the majority of his bulk didn't move; he just blinked at her uncertainly. When she sank down, he sat too, back straight, overlarge paws pulled in front of him. The thick animal musk of warm fur was unavoidable, especially when he tilted his head to the side and the shaggy mane shifted. "You don't have to be scared," he said, lifting his nose to look up at her hand as it came near. "It's safe here." Of that, at least, he was absolutely certain.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-17 10:47 pm UTC (link)

The smell of musk and fur was strangely familiar and comforting, and she bravely reached her hand out and touched the velvet softness of his nose with her fingertips. It was colder than she expected, softer, more alive somehow, and she pulled her fingers back quickly, almost blushing.

A second later, she reached her hand out again, a little surer this time.

"I think I'm supposed to be scared of you," she said honestly, but there was something familiar about his blue eyes, about the way the clothing she was wearing smelled, about this apartment and all the books, something that she wasn't afraid of; it was all very confusing. "But I don't think I am," she clarified thoughtfully.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-17 10:59 pm UTC (link)

The Beast wrinkled his nose after she pulled her hand away, almost sneezing, then looked back up with a slightly abashed loll of his tongue, which was long and pink. He tucked his head down this time so she could reach the top of his head, and when she was near enough he rolled his forehead affectionately under her wrist. "You shouldn't be afraid of me," he said, frowning a little, by the sound of it. Hadn't he just said it was very safe? And it was. His Beauty was never safer than when she was here. This thought was distracted by the scent of a small rodent that still clung very faintly to her. He thought it might be a squirrel, which amused him. "I'm glad you have come to stay with me. I am tired of being lonely all the time," he added, matter-of-factly.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-17 11:22 pm UTC (link)

She smiled when he rolled his forehead under her wrist, a soft laugh escaping her. "I don't think you like me very well," she said, though she wasn't quite sure where the feeling came from. Still, now that it was quiet and they were alone, she was finding that he wasn't so very frightening after all.

She buried her fingers in the fur above his forehead, and ran then through the musky softness with a smile. He was softer than she'd expected, she realized. The scent of fear was completely gone from her now, and the more comfortable she became, the warmer the smell of roses was- softer, yet warmer somehow.

"We really should look at your injuries," she said, but it was clear in her voice that she was reluctant to move. She had a vague feeling that she normally didn't feel safe, and she liked that right now she did. "I don't like being lonely either," she admitted openly, softly.

"Why are you alone?" she asked, stretching a little closer in order to pet higher.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-17 11:59 pm UTC (link)

"I'm alone because I have to stay here, and everyone is afraid to come in." And now I'm afraid to go out.

"Of course I like you," he said, closing his mouth and tucking his chin in to give her a long look over his nose in the bearish equivalent of a scowl. He inched a little closer and bent down to rub his forehead under her chin before putting his head in her lap. It was like being draped in a very heavy warm blanket. "I love you, my beauty." Then, in the same earnest tone, "Will you scratch behind my ears? It itches. I don't hurt any more. Stop fussing."

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 02:35 am UTC (link)

She laughed softly when he rubbed his forehead under her chin, and it was a happy sound. When he put his head on her lap, she moved her hand toward his ear before he'd even asked her to. "I'm not afraid," she said honestly. "Not anymore." She scratched behind his ear softly, and she settled back against the front of the couch. "You're warm," she said contentedly, "and I'm not fussing. I'm worried about you, Beast; there's a difference." She said this openly, not concealing her concern for him. She smiled a moment later, whispered conspiratorially. "Maybe I'm fussing a little."

She shook her head then, finally addressing the fact that he said he loved her. When she moved, the ends of her hair brushed over his muzzle, and she didn't stop scratching as she spoke. "Why do you say you love me?" she asked, though she knew there was more to their relationship than this moment, knew her feelings were more than they should be somehow. "Do you remember things that aren't now?" she asked after a moment's hesitation.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 03:46 pm UTC (link)

There were spots right behind his flopped ears that were always itchy, and there was something not-exactly-right about the way his spine moved there, so he couldn't quite reach them with a hind leg. He made a soft vibrating noise of contentment, thoroughly distracted and hardly aware of the conversation. "Hm?" he said, sleepily. "Because I do. What things aren't now?" He didn't even try to figure that one out on his own, he'd just wait for her to elaborate.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 03:56 pm UTC (link)

She realized that he was distracted enough by the comfort the petting offered that he scarcely heard her words, but instead of feeling ignored and hurt, she found it endearing. It was a shame he made such a frightful first impression, because he was proving to be very gentle and kind. He was short with his words, yes, but she suspected that was just his way.

She tentatively rubbed one of the long, floppy ears, before setting back to scratching. It was soft, and she told him as much. "You're very soft," she said, and it was said with approbation; she liked soft.

"This apartment, I've been inside it before. But it is not your castle," she explained, everything a jumbled mess in her mind. "And I have met you before, yet I have not. Your business was with my father."

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 04:07 pm UTC (link)

He liked being called soft, it was a new experience, and he purred approvingly like a large cat despite the ears, which might have been a retriever's where it not for the size and soft fawn color. They shifted forward, and he seemed to pay a little more attention to what she was saying, rolling one blue eye up to look at her. "I don't remember your father," he admitted, finally. He was concerned this information might make her leave, but he said it anyway, reluctant though he was.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 04:24 pm UTC (link)

She could sense the reluctance, and she was grateful he was honest despite it. If he didn't recall her father, then she wasn't trapped here. "Then why did you want me to stay?" she asked. Her recollection, muddied as it was, was that her father had stolen something from him. "He stole something from you for me," she admitted, thinking it might jog his memory, looking openly into the familiar, blue eye as she said it.

She rubbed the soft ear between her fingers again with a smile, enjoying the fact that something as large as he was could purr like a kitten. She made no move to leave, despite his confession or her statement. "What do you remember?"

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 04:46 pm UTC (link)

If she tried to leave, she might find differently, but fortunately she had not, and there hadn't been any real unpleasantness in that particular area. When he said "my beauty" he really meant "my Beauty." After a moment's thought in a pause, he said, "Oh, it was... my flowers. Only I don't have any flowers. They all died." He sounded both confused and very sad. "How did he steal one if I don't have any?" he asked her, and the purring stopped.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 05:02 pm UTC (link)

"A rose," she said, clarifying. "My sisters wanted-" here she hesitated, because she only had one sister, and she wanted something completely different. "That part gets confusing," she admitted with a soft frown.

When he stopped purring because he didn't have any flowers, she patted his head softly. "Are they out on the balcony?" she asked, already moving to stand carefully when he acknowledged the pat and the question.

She wasn't trying to leave; just to go see the aforementioned flowers, and she rubbed between his ears reassuringly.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 06:06 pm UTC (link)

"You smell like roses," he said, as if agreeing. He lifted his head off her lap when she shifted, and rose slowly to his feet when she stood up. He was absolutely huge, even when he seemed thoroughly willing to trot alongside her like an overgrown puppy. "Yes, they are on the balcony. But it is very cold out there. I will go with you," he decided, even as he tipped his head affectionately for more scratches. You have no idea how hard it is to scratch the top of your head when you only have paws. That much mane is itchy.

He padded on silent velvet toward the door and looked over his shoulder at the room. "You are right about the castle. But I like it here. It is very familiar and safe." He sounded fond. Safety was the primary concern in most of the Beast's ongoing conversation.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 06:33 pm UTC (link)

"You shouldn't move around so very much," she told him, still worried about his injuries, while completely ignoring her own. When he tipped his head, she laughed quietly, the sound lilting and carrying through the living room, and she scratched a moment, before stopping to roll the sweatpants up so she didn't trip over them, tying the waist for the same reason.

She pulled open the curtains, and she looked out onto the balcony once they were pulled wide. Then sun wasn't yet up, but the sky had lightened in a way that said a new day was coming, and she ran her fingers through his mane, untangling it gently as she looked outside.

The balcony was huge, which she somehow remembered, and as dead as it was big. When he mentioned safety, she looked over at him. "You are afraid of something?" she asked, sounding upset that something would threaten him. She realized the concept was ludicrous, with him being as big as he was. But he was soft and kind, and she expected his feelings might be very easy to hurt. She didn't like that thought.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 07:17 pm UTC (link)

"The wounds are not very deep," he assured her. "If you want to fuss more, you may in the kitchen, but not on the balcony." His breath steamed on the glass before she pulled it aside, and he followed her out onto the balcony, so close on her heels that his cold nose bumped her ankle before they were entirely outside. He stood still, looking as she looked, and of course there was no expression on his face, but his eyes seemed tired.

"There is a witch that does not like me," he told her, a little reluctantly. "I have enemies like any man might." He opened his mouth a little, tongue to one side, in what might have been a smirk. "Do you like my garden?" He had been right about the mess and the silent, dead tangle of it.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 07:43 pm UTC (link)

"Your garden needs... attention," she said, finally deciding on the correct word.

It was no longer cold enough to snow, but the air was still too cold for roses and flowers; or it should have been; still, she touched a dead tangle of brambles beside the door as she stepped out, and it straightened beneath her hand. It was a battle for the brambles to disentangle themselves, but they did, in the end, straightening and swaying in the cool air before they began to bud.

She smiled at him. "You'll remember you said I could fuss in the kitchen?" she asked him fondly, then looked back over the garden, her fingers lightly touching one of the closed buds. There was piled glass in one corner, strewn from its neatly collected spot. In the center, broken statues and mirror frames dominated, and a mass of dead growing things. "Do you know what they were?" she asked, not yet risking the cold floor with her bare feet.

Then, after a moment's silence, she looked at him and asked: "Did your witch lock you here?"

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 08:14 pm UTC (link)

He smiled at her opinion, which was not a criticism as it should have been, and wisely did not go back on his word about fussing in general. He was a large, silent presence at her side as she moved over the mess, and he stopped when she did to look at the faintly glowing shards in the rapidly brightening light. He stood there so long without looking back at her that for a moment it seemed as if he would not answer. It was then that he said, "Old mirrors were here." He turned his head to look up at her with his own reflective gaze, but he said no more about the witch. He felt as if he should not talk about her; it seemed as if it was against the rules in some way. A bad idea. Something to avoid. He was more willing to acquiesce to those impulses than she, part of an animal's nature was to listen to instincts and not question their existence.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 08:25 pm UTC (link)

She scratched his head as he spoke, rubbed his nose; it was a instinctual thing, the touch, something soft and warm amidst all the death and destruction. "Will you wait here for me a moment? I need a broom and pan," she explained, even as she looked up at the wall, at what was growing there. Ivy, she realized, grown wild from the balcony ledge, underfoot, even into the gutters and up the roof. It was pretty, somehow, in its wildness, even though she wasn't sure she'd be able to explain it if she had to.

She reached out a hand to touch the greenery, and she smiled as the ivy lining the wall edged back, back, back, rolling down toward the balcony edge, as if it was a giant blanket of green moving away from them. She lowered her hand more, to the height of a hedge, and when the ivy reached it, she pulled her hand back, and she smiled at him.

"Better?" she asked with a smile.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 08:46 pm UTC (link)

He was, as always, receptive to the physical attention (though touching his nose tended to make him sneeze), but said no more specific. When she looked down at him again, he was staring at the pieces of the mirror, and jerked his head back around to see what she spoke of. He looked for a moment, head tilting from side to side again, before he nodded, sending leonine dust motes up into the growing shafts of bright morning sunshine. "It is more in order. I am glad it likes you." It was one thing if she liked the garden, but another thing again if the garden liked her. He put his head down and nudged her toward the apartment. "You don't need to clean right now. It is late--early--and you have not slept." Nudge.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

bookshelved
2010-03-18 08:59 pm UTC (link)

She had followed his gaze to the mirrors, and she was about to ask about them when he began to nudge her inside. She dug her heels in a little, but her voice was soft when she protested. "Wait one moment? I'll leave the cleaning, but the flowers, they'll only take a second," she said, the plea evident in her voice and mixed with a touch of determination, much like the fussing earlier. She rubbed his ear. "I'll sleep once I'm done, if you'll allow me this one thing?" she asked, knowing she couldn't physically stop him if he wanted to nudge her indoors. Still, she didn't fear the asking or the request, she found, as she did not fear him any longer.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m.

labete
2010-03-18 09:17 pm UTC (link)

Swayed, undoubtedly, by the soft voice and the ear rub, he stopped trying to muscle her into the apartment and looked doubtfully back over a thick shoulder at the garden. "If you insist," he sighed, finally, pretending that it was all his idea to appease his pride and backing up again so she had the room she liked to move about. "But not too long." The sun was growing higher, and observing that there would soon be a nice warm spot by one of the parapets, he moved to one side under the newly tamed ivy and turned around in a circle to sprawl comfortably on the ground where he could see what she was doing. From a very--very--great ways away, he would look like a sunning house cat.

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Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

bookshelved, 2010-03-18 09:37 pm UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

labete, 2010-03-18 10:22 pm UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

bookshelved, 2010-03-18 11:31 pm UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

labete, 2010-03-18 11:37 pm UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

bookshelved, 2010-03-18 11:44 pm UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

labete, 2010-03-18 11:53 pm UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

bookshelved, 2010-03-19 12:04 am UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

labete, 2010-03-19 01:13 am UTC

Re: Rooftop floor/R1: 3:00 a.m. -

bookshelved, 2010-03-19 01:23 am UTC

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