my mind's about to overload :: julian (movesthings) wrote in mutanthaven, @ 2008-12-01 21:21:00 |
|
|||
Aurora/Jeanne-Marie Aurora liked cannoli. Even better, she liked it when she didn't have to pay for cannoli, and so the dinner and dessert at the quaint little Italian resturant she and Julian had been to the night before had put her in quite a good mood. She had spent most of the evening with one foot slipped out of her stilleto shoe, and suggestively rubbing Julian's inner thigh as she conversed easily with him, as though there nothing untoward was going on at all beneath the red and white checkered table cloth. Aurora was good at multitasking, if nothing else. She even managed to flirt with the waiter at one point, and get them a discount, all the while her foot resting lightly in Julian's lap.
And then after dinner, they had arrived back to Julian's room, she a little tipsy, and her mood a little more than just good. One thing invariably led to another, and now, the morning after (actually it was almost afternoon; Aurora was a heavy sleeper), here Mademoiselle Beaubier lay, naught but a sheet covering the supple length of her frame, head resting comfortably on top of Julian's bare chest. Now, it's not that Aurora had a particularly nasty streak in her (well, she did, but this was not the reason for her personality to chop and change as it did), it was just that she much rather preferred to be the dominant persona all of the time. Fuck that other little bitch who spoiled her good times and fun. Try as she might, though, she could not force poor Jeanne-Marie to the back of her psyche, and it just so happened that this morning, when the girl finally opened her eyes to stare directly into the morning sunlight, the ensuing glare triggered a switch, causing her to shudder briefly against Julian.
And then, every single muscle in Jeanne-Marie's body went perfectly still, frozen in fear and shock and horror. Who in the Lord's good name was she lying on?
Julian: A good diner out was always better with a lovely lady next to him for the entire duration of the night. Heck, he had even dressed up in a nice button up shirt and slacks, despite the blustering heat. And, of course, Julian had paid for the entire dinner after having sat there for near two hours with a foot on his leg. That had been a nice appetizer on the menu, and occasionally his mind would flicker down to it and mentally give her foot a wee massage. Oh, the handy bits of being able to, well, use his mind.
Because that's always handy. When morning came, he was nicely squished under the body of one warm Aurora, a hand lay across her back, his own face turned away from the window. At the stirring of her body, he gradually woke and yawned, stretching his legs out and shifting every so slightly to try and curl up around Aurora. "Five more minutes," he muttered, oblivious that the girl had gone rigid. "Then coffee..." sweet, glorious coffee.
Jeanne-Marie And that voice, it was definitely not the sound of her brother's. (Er. Not that she'd ever woken up in this particular situation with him - that is, naked and sprawled on top of Jean-Paul. But she had occasionally woken up with him in the same bed as her; they had sleep overs and deep and meaningful conversations quite often.) Still, she did not move for another thirty seconds. She could not. Every hair, every cell in her body was frozen in place, it felt as though even her blood had run to a cold, icey and sickening standstill. Though Jeanne-Marie was becoming accustomed to her periodic blackouts...this...this was almost unbearable. And the second time in nearly two months that she had woken up with a strange male in her bed. This is perhaps why she did not immediately react with a violent slap to the face as she would have and instead, she very carefully, mechanically even, pulled herself away from this strange naked boy. First slowly, but when she realised she was without a single piece of clothing (oh Dear God) her movements jerked, and the next thing Julian would have seen was Jeanne-Marie scrambling across the bed, yanking the sheets with her, hair an unruly mess of dark knots and curls, and a very white face hiding somewhere behind them (Leaving him quite stark naked).
"...Father who art in heaven..." she began to fervedly hiss the Lord's prayer in her native French, her eyes a little wild as she continued to crawl backward off of the matress, her knees slamming onto the carpet with a thud. Still, though, she moved back on all fours, until her feet hit a wall and she was able to sit back, wrapping her arms around her legs and glaring daggers at Julian. This was not her room. Oh may the good Lord have mercy on her soul, that was not her bed. "You." She literally spat at Julian, before falling back into English that was far too heavily accented to be Aurora's. "You are NOT my brother."
Should she scream rape? She felt like she should scream rape.
Julian: My, this was not the typical Aurora he so enjoyed waking up with, his succulant Canadian who would rouse him with, well, sunshine and other such treasured pleasures. Her retraction from the bed, and the sudden feeling of being naked and more importantly, cold, woke Julian right up, eyes popping open to the world. With a downward glance, then a look over at her pressed up against the wall (was she muttering something? she seemed to be, but he couldn't hear her) before looking back down. "No, I'm not," he muttered, pulling a pillow from the head of the bed and holding it over his manly bits. Stark naked he may be, and comfortable with himself always, but it just didn't seem proper in front of a lady. Not this early.
"Can you just," he mumbled, yawning and lazily scratching his rear, "get back in bed? I'm cold," a whine while he beckoned with his hand no longer scratching his bum. He could, if he wanted, easily lift Aurora off the floor and bring her to him, but that was a last resort move. Very last.
Jeanne-Marie "I do beg your pardon?!" Jeanne-Marie wrapped her sheet tight around her shoulders, and drew herself up a little onto her knees, "Pig of man, how dare you speak to me as though I am some common....whore!" Why did this happen to her? Sometimes it felt as though she had all of the misfortune in the world lumped entirely on her own two shoulders, and the Lord's strength was barely enough to keep her from cracking under the pressure. These blackouts...this blackout. Was it a test? Was it some horrible prank? Had he drugged her and had his way with her? She did not feel particularly ill - apart from the knowledge that she had shared a mattress wth this...American. Her thighs, however. They ached. Jeanne-Marie deliberately chose not to think about this, instead attempting to maintain her cold extrerior, despite the fact her lips trembled.
"If you think that I am willingly going to climb back into the bed of a rapist, you are sorely mistaken, monsieur." She slumped back, then, as if that little speech had sucked the last ounce of energy from her, and she drew a shaking hand to cover her eyes, muttering in French once more. "This cannot be happening, this cannotbehappeningthis should not be happening. Oh dear Lord in heaven lend me your strength..." Unbeknowest to the girl, Jeanne-Marie had began to rythmically rock back and forward, pressing the palms of her hands against her forehead. Why did she not feel herself? Why did she feel as though she were once more slipping? Before she lost her grip entirely once more, Jeanne-Marie snapped her head back up to glare are Julian, though she continued to rock, and her eyes were moist. "Who are you, that you take advantage of innocent virgins, swine?" Oh yeah. Jeanne-Marie was certainly as loveable as Aurora.
Julian: Oh, it was way too early for Julian to be dealing with this. Confusion written across his mug, the youth pulled himself up into a sitting position and rearranging the pillow over his bits to hide them from view. Aurora just went from sexy to batshit weird, he's not sure why or how, and you never know: she could be one of those chicks who crushed wangs. "Um." He... what? "You're not a whore, baby, I thought I made that clear..." ...by not tipping you. Really, this situation isn't new to him. Plenty in the past has he woken up next to a girl who couldn't recall the previous night (too much booze, usually, but Aurora had no more than he did!) and usually it was best to run away, run away, run away. Still, he stayed on the bed, mostly out of still being tired than anything.
Plus, Aurora was fast and... now rocking. What. "Aurora, what the fuck---" he started, reaching out towards her, and then stopped, pulling his hand back to rest on the pillow. Swine was not a word he was accustomed to! "You know what, fuck this," finally gaining some courage, Julian stretched his legs out and turned to crawl off the bed, keeping an eye on her at all times. His pants were down on the floor, and he had them in hand in no time, pulling them on one leg at a time. "I'm not in the mood for some theatrical shit. I don't know what the fuck you're on, but you weren't like this the last time."
Jeanne-Marie "Aurora, Aurora, Aurora." She muttered, for the moment...sort of living up to Julian's summation of her being absolutely batshit weird, as she once again pressed the heels of her palms against her forehead, continuing to rock, "Why do you people insist on calling me that?!" Jerked her gaze back to his again, lip curling a little in distaste at his (and her) lack of nudity. "Do not call me that! I am not Aurora. I am not she. I am not this--" Oh Sweet Jesus, was she possessed? Is that what these blackouts were? This waking up in odd places? WAS A DEMON FREQUENTLY VISITING HER AND USING HER BODY AS HOST FOR ITS SINFUL ACTIVITIES? She let out a strangled sort of moan, covering her face once more and shaking her head slowly back and forth. "I am not Aurora."
Oh good, he was putting some pants on. Jeanne-Marie ceased her rocking, now more preoccupied with searching for something that resembled her own garments, but all she could see was some discarded leopard print...piece of material lying forgotten at the foot of this man's bed. Wrapping the sheet tighter around her shoulders, she timidly rose to her feet. Jeanne-Marie was a tall girl, just shy of six foot, but unlike her more extroverted multiple, this one did not use this height to her ability at all, and in her current state, cringing and slightly fearful as she was, she looked quite tiny. "This...Aurora." her voice was thick, and there was a note of hysteria not hard to recognise clinging to the edges of her words, as she ran a tired hand across her eyes, and took a deep, shuddering breath, "Who is she, that you would mistake her for me? For I assure you, monsieur, I do not readily climb into the beds of strangers, and I have never met you before just this moment." The last time? She hoped this man suffered from amnesia, and he and this Aurora were married and not living in sin. For the time being, she chose to ignore the fact that she had just woken up beside him, and not his wife, though she still maintained that the man was swine, and may have attempted to have his sinful way with her.
Julian: Aurora got more of those confused looks from him, including scratching at his nose before shaking his head dolefully and looking for his shirt. "Beca---what?!" attention drawn, he jerked straight up and looked directly at her, pointing an accusatory finger, "What the fuck. You're Aurora. Don't pull this shit if you're not drunk. It's not cute." And, it wasn't, not really, even if she was smoking hot even while crazy. Such as now. Which, damn, if he weren't so bothered by the fact that Aurora just shit her lid and claimed she isn't Aurora, like some schizophrenic wench, he'd be all over that.
But then she went crazier; Aurora's tallness never shocked Julian, he himself barely rose above six foot, so they were pretty equal, yet her body composition---coupled by the question---bothered him. This wasn't Aurora, that was plain. Aurora wouldn't look so beaten and broken, she'd attack with a ferocity that no other woman could touch. "Uh," was his eloquent reply, glancing from left to right. "You. You're Aurora." Had she hit her head too many times on his headboard or was there something truly wrong here? "You're Aurora Beaubier," Beaubier said like 'bah-beer,' French not his fortay, "and..." well, he didn't exactly have a ready claus of why they were in bed together, except that it was fun and other such things he dare not mention for, if this woman in Aurora's body (oh, maybe a telepath had her? it was a possibility!) also possessed her powers then he was a literal dead man. So he thought fast, and quick, and it slid out his mouth before Julian had a chance to catch it, "We were celebrating our year anniversary??"
Jeanne-Marie “Boh-bee-air.” Jeanne-Marie snapped, looking up sharply and glaring at him. “And no. No. Non. Not Aurora. My name is not Aurora.It is Jeanne-Marie. Jeanne-Marie Beaubier –- there is no one – my brother would have --” she took a faltering step backward as the room started to spin. What was happening to her? Was she completely loosing her marbles? Would she need to be exorcised?
And then her breath caught in her throat, and Jeanne-Marie’s expression flickered into one of complete and utter bewilderment, “Anniversary?” Oh Sweet Father in Heaven was she married? How much time had she lost?! Almost involuntarily, Jeanne-Marie’s left hand snaked out from under her sheets, and she stared down at it. There was no ring. “De quoi vous parlez....” Bought that left hand up to her eyes, as she rearranged her thoughts back to English, “What are you talking about?” A small whimper escaped her lips, and she shook her head once more, “Mon Dieu..., I’m loosing my mind.” She bit down hard on her tongue, to stop herself from crying, and when that feeling had passed, and she could taste blood, she removed the hand from her face, and narrowed her eyes at him, speaking slowly as if he were the simpleton. “What anniversary are you talking about?”
Julian: So, that may not have been the best idea to say anniversary, but it was what happened and now Julian was the one faltering, back to looking for his shirt. It's got to be around here somewhere---aha! he saw the cuffed sleeve of his button up peeking out from under the bed and kneeled down to go scramble after it. This position also provided him some safety if Aurora---or this Jeanne-Marie---decided to go after him. "Uh, anniversary?" The hole he's dug has just gotten a little deeper, and muffled by the underside of the bed (can he just hang out here for a bit?) when he said, "Wedding."
Because, what else do you say to a chick who mutters in French and rocked on her haunches? Or mumbled prayers? Wedding just seemed so natural, and besides, Tessa would shit herself if she ever heard about this. That worked just fine for himself. "One year. Don't you remember, uh, Jeanne... Marie?" Julian's head popped up from the other side of the mattress, hair still a mess but now a dust bunny clung to the side as he shrugged on the shirt, ignoring the lipstick stain on the collar. "Honey?"
Jeanne-Marie If Jeanne-Marie believed in taking the Lord's name in vain, oh how she would be doing it right at this moment! She'd probably throw in a few extra swear words for good measure because -- heaven help her she was married?! "Uh...?" The noise that rolled out from between her lips was a cross between a moan, a gag and a badly formed question, and she stood, rooted to the carpet, deer in headlights. She needed the date. What was the date? Wasn't she still in school a year ago? What year was it?! How long had she blacked out for? WHAT IN THE LORD'S HOLY NAME WAS THIS?!
"....Non." She finally managed to croak, "I do not remember." She narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Julian, finally drawing herself up a little and taking a step forward. She hoped it was a Catholic wedding. "I often loose time." A brief shake of her head - looked sort of more like a nervous twitch, really - as she tried to clear her thoughts a little. "I do not remember things. People." Had she worn white? "It is...happening more and more frequently." She can tell him this because they are apparently joined in Holy Matrimony, and she must be a Good Wife -- her stomach turned, at this thought. Oooh Father in Heaven, she hoped she wouldn't vomit all over her husband's carpet. Jeanne-Marie continued to stare, eyes still a little wild. she prayed his commitment to his faith was as fierce as his dress sense - at least she married someone who wore decent shirts.
Lifted her chin, then, attempting to gather back some of that famous cold Beaubier detachment both she and her brother were so good at. "Your name?"
Julian: For the record, Jean-Paul will punch him in his face for this. Here's hoping the little elf wouldn't find out. "Ye...ah..." he wasn't too sure where she was going with this, and stood up to fix his shirt, buttoning from bottom to top. Oh, what---there was also some wine on this. Amazing, the things shirts pick up, when they live under your bed. "I kind of noticed..." he drawled, not looking at her. This whole thing, Aurora vs. Jeanne-Marie, was confusing him to no end and the lie, they just had to keep rolling.
Looking her square in the eye, Julian cocked and eyebrow and put on an offended front. "You don't remember?" he sniffed, mostly for show, and looked down at the carpet. On the plus side, if she can't remember, then he can spew out any name he liked and... well, that was kind of cruel, wasn't it? To lie to his his fake wife, the woman who was Aurora. Maybe she's lying to him, then, and pulling his chain. Ah, hell. "Julian, dear, it's Julian." The dear was thrown in for extra oompf, to get whatever point he was trying to make (maybe the one where he's lying?) across and make her feel a twinge bad and, you know, not kill him. "Keller."
Jeanne-Marie Killing is a sin, Julian, Jeanne-Marie wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing! Besides, unfortunately for her she didn’t have access to any of Aurora’s particular gifts, so there’s quite a possibility that she would indeed leave all of this up to Jean-Paul. Who would probably do a lot more than just punch Julian in the face. Not that Jeanne-Marie would approve of that either – you don’t go around pummelling your brother-in-law! It’s just not the done thing.
Staring at...at her husband, Jeanne-Marie swallowed hard, repeating his name softly, “Julian Keller.” Was she going to test her name with his? Certainly not out loud, but she did assess how ‘Jeanne-Marie Keller’ sounded in her head. It didn’t sit right. Something was wrong here. Surely she would remember the man she supposedly married? “I see. Non. Je regrette...I do not remember.” Her tone was...slightly skeptical. He was not taking this seriously at all – she was his wife, shouldn’t he be being more supportive?
“Where are my clothes, s’il vous plait?” Jeanne-Marie finally decided on a safe question. Or was it? Did she really want to know? “I assume, considering we are husband and wife, that we—“ A pause as she tasted an acidic version of whatever it was she had eaten last night, “--share a room.”
Julian: "Heh," now Julian was feeling like a deer in the headlights, caught in his own lie. In this room, there was nothing but his stuff---laptop, dresser, a couple framed photos of family and friends---but nothing that screams Jeanne-Marie. Maybe the drawer of condoms over there, near his 'wife,' that could scream Aurora, but... Well. "No, you, uh, you have your own. Said it was..." ...your mother? "God's plan." HAHA THERE. YES. He felt so proud of himself, biting back his grin. "So I, uh, your room is down the hall."
Jeanne-Marie God's Plan? Hmmm. That sort of sounds like her. She blinked, eying him with no small amount of suspicion, but she also took another tentative step forward, her hand creeping out from behind her sheet and brushing a lock of dark hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She must have looked a frightful mess! And in front of her husband too! This would not do at all. "I know, Julian," her answering tone was a little snippy, "where my room is, merci beaucoup." Wait, did she walk all the way to his room in the flush?! This was entirely inappropriate. "Uh..." She bit her lip, then, leaving teethmarks, as her fists tightened around the sheets she held protectively about her shoulders. "S'il vous plait, if you...do not mind...I think I will retire to my own room for a while." She needed to get some serious prayer time happening. As almost an afterthought, she added, her tone almost commanding, "Perhaps, later on, you will come with me to church, oui?" Church fixes everything - Jesus will have the answer.
Julian: God has shined his light down on him and granted Julian a way out. Relieved, for his lies have gone undiscovered, he moved swiftly around the bed and past Aurora, to the bathroom he called his own and fetched the blue and white checked bath robe from behind the door, soft and fleece and, for her sake, freshly washed. "Of course, go, go... read," he suggested, doing the gentlemanly thing and draping it over her shoulders. This crazy lady would probably not want what Aurora had on last night, and this was much more modest for a lady of God.
The prospect of Church made his blood run cold, stiffly pressing on a smile. "Sure, church." Oh Heavenly Father, Hallowed be Thy name, please let a anvil fall on his head so he did not have to endure three hours of Christian lecture. "Maybe before hand we'll... do dinner." Food fixes everything, Wendy at the Dinner will have the answer.
Jeanne-MarieJeanne-Marie watched him warily as he disappeared into the other room. Oh this was a nightmare! Not that Julian wasn’t—okay so Julian could sort of use a haircut, and maybe learn to eat and drink without making a mess (those wine stains did not go unnoticed) but...oh lord. Jeanne-Marie had had aspirations of becoming a nun. Not...marrying teenaged boys.
Maybe it could be annulled.
Maybe they had not consummated their marriage.
OH DEAR LORD HAD SHE WILLINGLY HAD INTERCOURSE WITH HIM?
It took a great shift in thinking for Jeanne-Marie to believe that for the first year, they had remained pure, and that she had just lay in bed beside him...or something. He was back now so her thoughts on this would have to wait. “Merci.” She murmured stiffly as he draped the robe over her shoulders – careful not to let him get a view of her dariy-aire as he did so. “Oui. Perhaps we can.” Oh your wife was a friendly one Julian. “Well.” She moved to his door, and when her hand touched the knob, she turned back to--yeah she was sort of glaring at him, “I shall speak with you further. Later. About...this.” Jean-Paul was definitely going to hear about this. She wanted to know if he had been the one to give her away. Rest assured, when the truth comes out, Julian had better run, far, far away.
Julian: With subdued relief, he watched her go and only mutely nodded at her request they speak about "this" later. He was not, with all honesty, looking forward to later and will be attempting to avoid his faux wife with intent until she forgot---or until Aurora reentered that body, which he was hoping would happen soon. Jeanne-Marie's mental status was already obviously skewed to him, maybe some sort of schizophrenia, and he was only making it worse. A lot worse.
But... now he needed to shower, go to work, and pray that Jeanne-Marie/Aurora/whatever didn't come after him. He just did a bad bad thing.