asklepios: ᴀᴄᴛʀᴇss ɴᴀᴛᴀʟɪᴇ ᴅᴏʀᴍᴇʀ; ʙʟᴏɴᴅᴇ (pic#)
ᴀ sᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ([personal profile] asklepios) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2012-03-24 06:44 pm

every morning i walk towards the edge; c l o s e d;

Who: "Vanessza Bernát" and "Tom".
What: Anti-establishment pillow-talk.
Where: Her Syriac Well flat.
When: Veerdi night.
Warnings: References to sexual situations, reference to recent violent traumas.

When the city began to still, Benevenuta dyed her hair.

The blonde, with the waves she coaxes out of it, softens her appearance and makes her more Vanessza again, less of the thestral-riding Valkyrie woman. She does it herself in the upstairs bathroom, ease and speed of practise and long experience; she'll book herself in with that stylist, later, but she doesn't imagine the salons are up to much just yet and it feels like something she'd like to have done already. It's a small bit of physical sleight of hand that doesn't fool her companion tonight in the slightest, not quite laughing at her earlier when they were navigating feet and hands and doorways to get to her mercifully untouched bedroom, where I know what you are is a tease delivered in expressions instead of a threat.

(The wards held, still hold; her repaired windows, her clean living space and the groceries she'd picked up the day the sky cracked open. And when she looks in the mirror, now, she sees up or down? and potential and not the sensation of brain matter and unnecessary bone washed down her back, against her feet, down the drain.)

It's not the same apartment they were in the last time she texted you should come over - a bigger space, downstairs at least, and it seems as though she's reorganized the way she fills that space, too, shelving system something else again - but she's been blithe about the change so far, simply attaching her new address (just downstairs from the old one) when she'd peremptorily summoned him (which its own different sort of equally affectionate teasing). She'd said stay, so he does, and they sit cross-legged in her bed over the tea that he'd picked up on his way, drinking it slightly cool (it's better that way-- the taste almost solidifies, and she'll keep what's left over after, adding to the already impressive collection of 'teas Tom brings me') from half-sphere mugs and she's queen of this castle, which is essentially why she moved. She's glad not to have to do it again so soon (the wards kept her doors locked and Lucius wouldn't lower himself to digging around while she was still in the flat); it'd have felt more like being forced out and less like control.

She's a bit more domineering than she tends to appear, but she and Bruce understand each other.
caballero: (day | sidelines)

[personal profile] caballero 2012-05-03 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"In that respect, I don't doubt the earnestness of their goal," he muses, sipping his tea after. The efficiency of assimilation rings true to the statement that Baedal is everyone's glorious new home; everything is tailored to get people in quickly and comfortably and for those who (aren't like them) live quietly there's only homesickness and culture shock to combat with - for an untold number, this place is a very literal godsend. "But if any one faction was truly all powerful, the past month wouldn't have happened, and the Militia wouldn't have had to stoop to the tactics they've found habitual."

Fine we're just going to go balls out and say the M-word, are we? Okay.