It's time for a swap! (roomsswap) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-06-08 10:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | *narrative, plot: swap |
Who: Zatanna
What: Reveal
Warnings/Rating: None.
Farewell to the gift of an all-too-short vacation, a getaway with legs tangled up in criss-crossed, blackened, torn heartstrings. Farewell to top hats and teeth in her neck, goodnight, sweet ladies, goodnight.
As she slowly awakened, she stretched her (his) legs, sitting up in the chair that she (he) had fallen asleep in before the trick. Blinked at the darkened room, listened to the careless, endless cawing of sirens outside. Morning was just breaking through the blurred windowpanes.
No one had yet been able to find this quiet place, and it had been all too easy to take. A suggestion of money in the mind of the clerk downstairs, a smile from a handsome, clean-shaven face, and they had given him the best room in the hotel, encompassing most of the top floor. His last stint on the run in this world had been spent in filthy, abandoned places. Now, even if the bed was rarely used, it was large and sumptuous and silken. There were servants, of a kind, who could bring what he asked for and be teased into forgetting the things they fetched, and there was a commitment to privacy that hardly needed encouragement from the touch of an ice-cold, long-fingered hand.
Magic. That body had thrilled with it, ached with it in the bones, been filled with warmth by it. He never had managed to find the key that unlocked its full potential, but that hardly mattered - he still had the memory of teeth at his neck, and it had been a long and shuttered time for him since he'd had the pleasures offered to free men. He had lived too long and been too many things to question himself for taking it in the body of a woman. The thought of scandal or identity didn't even grace his thoughts. He was too adaptable for that, too accustomed to creating a facade and adapting behavior to it as the moment suited. He took opportunities as they were presented, and the beauty of that creature was nothing he could ever hope to possess.
All her power and her enrapturing beauty encased in a silly costume, though. It gave him ideas. He had a pawn to place on the board, and now he had a good idea of how he might shape it. Loveliness and magic had always been a dangerous combination. Enchantress could attest to that.
But until he sank his claws into his latest charge, it was simply Loki, sitting alone in the high-backed chair, in an empty suite, a hand checking at the inside of his neck, finding nothing, and a blank stare on the untouched, pin-straight bed covers across the room.