catgotyour (catgotyour) wrote in theunboundic, @ 2019-06-13 17:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! time: may 15 - june 11, ciara byrne, henri danior |
One Foot In Front Of The Other, Never Settle
Who: Ciara Byrne, Henri Danior
What: Rebuilding Routine
When: May 24th, Early Afternoon
Where: Quarters at Antoine's
The snarl started low in the gut, rumbled past the heart, paused in the lungs before pouncing through throat and jaws...
Henri bit the sound back as much as his chattering teeth would allow, and tried to warm his chilled skin. The fever was worse today than yesterday, but a world away from the hell that had claimed him a week past, when he had arrived, half-drowned and three-fourths starved, collapsed at the door of the Palace. He was awake, aware, able to hold words in his skull... he would take every victory he could get.
Of course, currently, he was losing. The clothing was unfamiliar, and he knew he would only cause trouble for Antoine if he wore it wrong. Had to cover the right secrets, at least for now. He was used to shapeless, cheaply stitched shirts, pullovers made to endure repeated washing and multiple inhabitants, nothing that took fit or comfort into consideration... the only pattern he knew was striped. The trousers, he had managed on his own, the braces Antoine had said would make his shoulders look good... those buttons were large enough for clumsy, shaking fingers. The shirt was different. The shirt would beat him.
He tried to grip the damned thing, holding a too-bony wrist up to the shaded window, elbow jutting into the air like the wing of the chicken he'd tried to hold down the night before. His fingers pinched into the resin disc of the button, and Henri licked his lips as he tried to narrow his vision down enough to guide it through the slit in the other side of the cuff. His skin was clammy, pale, and his muscles trembled. The exertion alone made him sweat... sweat too much. The button danced out of his fingertips.
This time, Henri didn't bite back the snarl. He added to it, the pain and shame of the last week boiling over, blending with the growl until it grew into a full-throated roar. He felt his eyes sharpen, felt the twinge as his teeth and nails began to lengthen and harden, the coldness underneath his skin immediately replaced by the comfortable pain of lurking fur waiting to emerge, the fire in his gut.
And the world went black, the sickness washing away the beast in a wave of nausea and weakness. Henri fell to his knees, panting. Beaten by the shirt. He didn't dare consider the battle he would endure with the shoelaces.