ɑgɛɳt ɱѳɓiuร (jetskiing) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-03-26 18:49:00 |
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What the hell did Mobius know about being a woman? Not a lot, that was for sure - but he liked women, had a great respect for them, and if they kindled a desire to burn the world down he really didn’t blame them. Doing that whole ‘walking a mile’ thing was learning him a few lessons, and as the week progressed he found that he actually - sort of was into this new form? Was enjoying it? Above all else, it definitely wasn’t weird. And Mobius had seen, and experienced, a lot of what could be classified as weird during his tenure with the TVA and hopping around pockets of history, carving out slots of space and time with the whoosh and glow of orange Timedoors. So being a woman for a week? Just another Tuesday. He’d even consider trying out this form some more later on too - Loki said he could help Mobius look how he wanted to look, which was a really nice offer and something Mobius would take him up on. Loki had multiple forms, so maybe Mobius could too - honestly, he was impressed with how he looked as a woman. There was no escaping that crooked nose, but overall, the softness and the shapeliness and just the more appealing aesthetics were a pleasant part of the whole package. Only thing was, she didn’t know much about makeup - Eliot had loaned her some compacts or palettes, lipsticks, sticks with what looked like charcoal on the ends (or maybe ink?), and Mobius was just downright lost. Girls night was a good time to really soak in some new info in case she asked for this form again some other time. She and Sharon met in Mobius’s room, cramming themselves in there behind the Page of Pentacles door. There were chocolate chip cookies that smelled like bliss, and there was wine that was very old and had that sweet, savory flavor of something ancient because it’d been brought back from their last Derleth stop; Mobius would have to stop herself from consuming the whole bottle. As it was, she already drank - more than a few sips. Which may be dangerous when you were in the same room with someone you also happened to share a mental link with, but. Oh well. “So what are you going to do to me first?” she asked, settling on pillows on the floor - for a Girls Night, what did one wear? Mobius assumed something casual, so she had on a fancy nightgown and a robe she’d borrowed, very classic Hollywood starlet. Or something. Better than Mobius' initial assumption, which was sweatpants and a t-shirt. Though that probably would have been fine too. Mobius was definitely a little more fancy than what Sharon had put together. She had picked up a few pair of pajamas when they had been in New York, which meant that she wasn't quite in sweatpants and a t-shirt, although she certainly had that look. Instead she'd pulled out one of the pajamas which was a proper set - loose satin-y trousers and a nice button down shirt. She was assuming there wouldn't be anyone else there, but if there was a roommate or if they happened to come back, it was nothing to be ashamed to be seen in. Sharon reached for a cookie, and smirked. "You make it sound as if I'm going to put you on that torture device from like The Princess Bride or something, what am I going to do to you first?" She had brought make-up, figuring why not. Because it could be a handy trick to have up your sleeves generally, and it had been a while since she'd had a reason to do a full smokey eye. She was kind of looking forward to it. Mobius' coloring was different enough from hers, that Sharon thought she could try some fun things she didn't think she would be as likely to try on herself, and Mobius was going to look gorgeous. Not that she wasn't already, if Sharon were perfectly honest. Handsome man, and striking woman both. Sharon wasn't certain if she'd be so lucky. Those thoughts drifted over like a freezing cold fog, though they had the opposite effect on Mobius - because hearing that someone thought the manly form was handsome pulled up kind of a flush to those smooth cheeks (one of the oddest things to get used to was the lack of facial hair, yes, because he was just so accustomed to sporting a mustache). Mobius was flattered and probably pinged those warm feelings back and, well, now it was just going to be a cycle of thoughts that had the both of them turning red and needing to drown in alcohol to offset the effects. Not that she was complaining. They did have plenty of alcohol. “Well, is it a torture device?” she asked with a smirk, unscrewing one of the pencil-looking things that was known as mascara. “I don’t even know what you do with this. It looks like something that I’d accidentally jab into my eye.” But no better time to learn than the present, right? Maybe she’d be able to tuck a new skill under the figurative belt. Okay then. Mobius picked up the wine bottle and sipped - though it was a big sip (she couldn’t find any glasses anywhere so they’d have to pass the bottle back and forth and not care about cooties). Then set it down and rolled her shoulders, sitting up straight. “Where do we start, is the better question?” "Clean face and a strong moisturizer," Sharon remarked airly to the asked out loud question, while taking up the less out loud suggestion of wine by reaching for the bottle that Mobius had just finished with. The warmth was nice, and maybe it was part of the reason that she enjoyed spending time with Mobius generally? He -she - was warm and Sharon had spent so much of the past few years detached from most people that it made for a rather pleasant shift in her life. It was hard not to circle some of that warmth back when someone had been so consistently pleasant to be around. Wine achievement unlocked, she sat the bottle back between them and eyed the mascara that Mobius was currently wielding. "If you're not careful you will jab it into your eye, and ruin all your good work with the subsequent tears, but that's not where we want to start. Where we want to start is with the story you want to tell." Which might be a strange way to think about make-up, but it was the only way Sharon could think about it really. She didn't tend towards wearing it much on a day-to-day basis, so when she did wear it, it usually meant she was playing a part and much like anything you put on your body to play a part, make-up told a story. "Are we the girl next door, are we a goth queen, are we going for old Hollywood, or maybe -" she picked up one of the make-up palettes she'd picked up when they were in New York, grinning at the colors in the eyeshadow and turned it around so he could see the blues and purples. "A little Madonna circa Material Girl?" “Hm - “ Mobius made a thoughtful sound, husky and feminine - her hair was short and crinkled, somewhat, wavy she guessed she would call it. With bangs. But that had just happened, and all she did to style that was brush it and that seemed easy enough. Makeup was a whole other thing. “I don’t know if I’m Madonna or not, but sure - let’s go. I can pretend I’m a Material Girl in a material world.” Goth queen seemed downright terrifying - and maybe a little more intense on the eyeliner than Mobius could handle. Her face had been clean the whole week, she hadn’t really put on much makeup besides stuff from a compact that she could use one of those poof things to apply - so this would be the first shot with accentuating the eyes. Those blues and purples were bright, kind of reminding her of peacock feathers. “I am your palette, and you are the artist - “ She was also a little tipsy, but that was neither here nor there. “Mold me.” "Oh gosh, you're brave," Sharon couldn't help but laugh with a burst of affection. It was true about Mobius generally, of course, but in this particular case Shraon didn't know if she could - from memory - accurately pull off Material Girl. "I feel like I shouldn't be trying for this without a can of hairspray and ten mile high bangs, though." But she glanced through what she had, the eye shadow from the 80s. The foundation - which wasn't probably exactly the right color, but it looked like Mobius might have some things that would work there. Eyeliner and mascara… The lipstick wasn't probably going to be quite right, but maybe they could do some blends. She tossed Mobius a scarf. "Maybe tie this up to keep the hair out of your face while we work? "Where did you get the other make-up from?" She asked curiously as she laid out things in front of her that she thought they might want to use, and then started with another sip of wine from the bottle, before she reached for one of the foundation compacts in Mobius' pile and a sponge for application. “Eliot,” Mobius replied, and there were all sorts of thoughts that flitted through her head - fond ones, affectionate ones, but in a different kind of way. A different kind of feeling - more familial, than anything else? The first day, he hadn’t even hesitated to go with whatever Mobius was most comfortable with - whether it was just changing up the clothing a little or going all out with hair and makeup. She’d appreciated the support - and apparently Eliot had been through something similar, with Derleth and its quirks. “He was in this same situation - but I also think he wears makeup even as he is now, so he had some to spare.” Mobius didn’t judge either way - whatever made him happy. She followed instructions and did her best to tie her hair up, brushing the bangs back and knotting the scarf so she had kind of a Cinderella look going on then nibbled on a cookie, pink tip of her tongue poking out to swipe at some leftover melted chocolate - these were really good, by the way, Sharon deserved acknowledgment; she was a lady of many talents. Then she closed her eyes and brushed off any spare cookie crumbs, so Sharon could start with the sponge. “Are we supposed to talk about boys as you do my makeup? Or...?” Mobius trailed off, squinting one eye open to peek. Boys or girls. Sharon didn't know Eliot well, other than to know that he'd been here even longer than she had, but it did sort of make sense - all of the above, actually. That Mobius would have found make-up from him, and that he might have had something similar at some point, and that honestly, he might wear make-up now. She could swear probably eye make-up for certain. Sharon reached forward to dab make-up on Mobius' face, and even without the question, it was difficult to not think about the one other time she'd had her fingers against Mobius' face - even if it wasn't this Mobius. She hadn't been applying make-up to Mr. Tesseract's face, but when Delerth had brought its double game to the room she'd spent a bit of time in close quarters with Mobius' other Delerth counterpart and nothing had happened, but the memory flashed forward without her really thinking about it and then she did think about it, and then she realized Mobius probably knew she was thinking about it, and any attempt to cover it up with a laugh at the question was likely moot, but… Sharon actually giggled, and then mentally face-palming at that reaction, she re-focused all of her attention on making certain that the foundation wasn't streaked and ignoring any heat in her cheeks at the thought of Mobius catching that thought. "I mean, that's the cliche isn't it?" She shrugged, and pulled back to consider her work. "I really miss electricity here," she mused as an aside. "Alas, I am boy and girl free, unless we want to talk about that time Delerth thought I was married to Bucky, so it's up to you to bring the boy talk." Oh, talk about a surprise. Mobius hadn’t realized that Sharon experienced a moment (or a moment, of any definition) with that particular variant - but the image was clear as anything, and the memory felt so real through their link; it seemed to have a mind of its own, even. It was possible that Mobius would also brush it off if there wasn’t any loose tongue or loose lips effect happening because of the potency of the wine - fact of the matter was, though, that was exactly what was happening. So she just hopped aboard this fiery locomotive heading for a cliff and held on. “You sure you don’t want to talk about my variant?” she asked teasingly, eyes fluttering open and now sporting a flawless face, and for a moment she actually felt triumphant. “I knew he liked you. I could sense it.” Or maybe Mobius had just guessed, but she liked to think she knew herself pretty well in any form, any variant. Or maybe it was this Mobius who liked Sharon too, and now it was - confirmation. Or something. That she wasn’t completely insane or wrong, because another variant had felt the same way and - Well, that was a mess to untangle. In contrast to Mobius' perfect face - and it did look damn good if Sharon said so herself - Sharon was not wearing nearly enough foundation to cover up her own flushed cheeks. She quickly looked down and put a very distinct emphasis on selecting the appropriate eyeshadow for the task at hand "Oh, I don't know that there's really anything to talk about," she protested, although her mind wandered back to the moment in the hallway despite herself. She could say that she'd been concerned with keeping Mr. Tesseract distracted and occupied while the Mobius in front of her had completed his work, but she knew that she'd enjoyed the fact that she'd kept his attention, a little too much. The thought was there now, and she couldn't put it back in the bottle, although she'd intended to ignore it. And maybe she half wished she'd just gone along with playing the part of doting wife when they'd been in Schmigadoon? Would he have kissed her if they'd played it? Blame the wine, or the unexpectedness of the questioning, but everything she'd compartmentalized away as not something to think about or discuss with Mobius was right there, too close to the surface for someone she had a mental link with. The tangle of her own thoughts smashed up against the tangle of Mobius', like, were they talking about Mr. Tesseract, or Mobius who liked her? It was like too many necklaces thrown in the same drawer and all tangled up; it would take time and intention to unwork them. Fuck eyeshadow, she turned for the wine instead. A quick swish of the bottle, she let it settle, and she sat back on her heels, giving Mobius an arch look. "He was in my space; it was a distraction. I think he was lonely." Not like you, because Sharon knew that too. And she wasn't looking. She wasn't. Attraction was just… it happened. And apparently she was a little bi, fuck it all, cause she was sitting here staring at Mobius, and that attraction hadn't really shifted. Good lord, she needed to actually just stop thinking things. She took another swig of wine and reached for the purple eyeshadow and a brush. Focus: Madonna's eye make-up. “You know how it is - all that power, no one you can trust.” They’d talked about it before. “But he trusted you. He was definitely lonely,” Mobius agreed - and, no, this Mobius couldn’t say that she felt the same way. She had Loki and everything between them, which was rich and fulfilling - but Loki had also made it clear that he was very open about relationships and not necessarily tied to the idea of a white picket fenced house with one person, for all time, always. It made sense, she supposed, because gods lived a long time and they weren’t like humans, where monogamy was necessarily ingrained in them. Mobius hadn’t wanted to change that about Loki - all she’d asked for had been honesty, and so far, it seemed to be working out. On this end, Mobius wasn’t sure what was ingrained in her - she was still figuring that out (along with a lot of other things, for instance, she had no idea she’d enjoy being a woman so much). But all of this was adding a whole other layer - and it wasn’t exactly bad. Just...delightfully complicated? “And I kind of wish that too,” she added, clamoring for the wine with grabby hands because liquid courage. It went down easy when she took a large gulp and she coughed a little, having taken more than anticipated and now she was feeling a little flushed. And woozy. That wine drunk feeling where everything was fuzzy and cottony. “...about Schmigadoon, I mean.” What that exactly meant for them, she didn’t know the answer to that either - but Mobius liked to think she was pretty intelligent, emotionally and otherwise. She’d figure it out. And she held still, eyes closing again, because Sharon had the brush and Mobius didn’t want to be poked in the eye with that thing. Sharon’s hand slipped — oh not poked in the eye slipped but definitely a shimmer blue line where she hadn’t intended slipped. She hadn’t expected Mobius to answer aloud, but particularly not Schmigadoon. The warm heady shot of something missed (something maybe being offered again?) was as strong as the alcohol. “Wasn’t that whole thing finding your true love?” The words were out before Sharon could second guess them. She didn’t know that this was that. She didn’t know that it couldn’t be either. Complicated. Sharon didn’t do relationships. Trust didn’t settle easily, even if sometimes she wished it would. Maybe even felt like it should. Like it was a failing that she couldn’t? There were a dozen little reasons why she’d defaulted in Schmigadoon but none of them seemed to matter now. “What if we were sitting on that the whole week and we could have rescued the whole of Delerth from yet another refrain?” It was a quip, or intended to be but they were both a little too tipsy and a little too connected. The white picket fence of Schmigadoon had never been in her cards, but this was Delerth and Delerth inevitably was going to be more complicated. Sharon reached back in to fix her mistake, her thumb brushing gently against Mobius’ skin as it pressed away 80s blue reminiscent of Mr Tesseract, although the woman in front of her was certainly not. She had soft skin and solid flesh and Sharon knew that unlike her counterpart, this Mobius wasn’t volatile. Mr. Tesseract might have trusted her, but Sharon could trust Mobius, and did. And maybe at different times she’d wanted to kiss them both. A girl could have her wants, right? And Loki? Loki added a different dimension, something Sharon wasn’t sure about. But she was never going to compete with a god, which, maybe it was just the alcohol talking but it also felt like an answer. “There,” she said softly, without pulling back. As if the expertly blended eye was an answer. “What would Loki say to this?” Mobius snorted a laugh. “Something tells me even true love, whatever that is, wouldn’t have saved all of Derleth - however, it’s a nice thought,” she said. But seriously, what even was true love? It didn’t seem like a thing that existed - because what made one love more true over another? Did it even have to be romantic love? Couldn’t the love a sibling had for their kin count, or the love a parent had for their child? So many questions. The answers probably didn’t even matter either - because people had their own definitions of love, their own experiences, and it was all true to them. “That it’s not a competition,” Mobius answered the question and oops, this mind link thing was really insane and while initially she didn’t mind too much now it was just getting embarrassing (or maybe it had already passed embarrassing, leaving it behind a few miles ago). “And that he’d be supportive...of my eye makeup.” Volumized lashes fluttered open, and she smiled reassuringly at Sharon - Mobius didn’t have a hand mirror right here but she was sure that she still looked like the perfect 80s material girl. “I’d offer to do yours too, but - it might be more of a hot mess,” she admitted. Sharon laughed in return, amused, because it struck her as similar to her views on it and as much as anything, it was part of why they were sitting here, wasn't it? "Too practical for that sort of fairy tale," she mused. She definitely was. Love Schmigadoon-style seemed too full of ballads and cupids and undying devotion, and Sharon didn't think any of that was something she'd do well. Heck, even when she'd been married to Bucky in 1950s I love Delerth-land, there had been a very fond practical edge to the marriage. Sharon tilted her head, letting her gaze sweep across Mobius' face, presumably to check the make-up, then after a moment, she reached up and untied the scarf, letting her hair fall back down around her face, and absolutely using the excuse to slip fingers up against Mobius' temples, fluffing her bangs just a little bit, because Sharon had let some other opportunities slip through her fingers apparently, but by mental links, and wine, not tonight. And then there were the flutters, right on cue. "It's a good look," she brought her gaze back to Mobius', and then she sat back, reaching for one of the palettes, something that was mostly browns and mauves, and she handed it over. "It'll be a hot mess until we figure it out. If you want to give it a shot." “Yeah - may as well give it a shot,” Mobius replied, taking the palette that she’d use on Sharon. Despite being a little bit hiccupy (which was an unofficial word for drunk), she still had a steady hand and was pretty sure that she could get some makeup miracles going. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” That also meant a couple of different things - but the conversation seemed to have multiple layers tonight; it was like an onion. Or, no, something far better - a cake, maybe. Something spongy. Now Mobius’s thoughts were getting spongy, so she should quit while she was ahead - but talking to Loki would definitely have to happen; Mobius couldn’t very well ask for honesty and then not deliver the same thing in return. Even if she wasn’t certain how she’d bring it up (or what to bring up - what was happening) but like she promised Sharon, they’d figure it out. “Now hold still,” Mobius teased, dipping the small eyeshadow brush into one of the colors on the palette. “And maybe say a prayer that you won’t need to wash this off immediately after.” And even if Sharon did, well, Mobius tried. It was all a learning experience. |