[open] and if we've come a long way, then i suspect it sideways

[whattigerscanchange]

Who: Odessa Wander and you! (Yes, you!)
What: A week in the life.
Where: Mafaton, Library of the Blessed Saint Brian, a restaurant, and a park. Somewhere.
When: Various points in the week.
Notes: Thread starters exist for: Irene, Rex, Shrieky, and Steph. If you want to do something, that's awesome! Let's do something. I am totally flexible, so feel free to start a thread with whatever. If you wanna run an idea past me, just ping me. Plurk, PM, IRC, whatevs. I'm accessible.
Warnings: Warnings for possible sexiness? Will note if anything comes up.

Odessa Wander's old life was miserable, but she could never say that it was dull. The idea of a "normal" life always held a certain appeal, but always presented the risk of being boring. Every time she begins to worry that that's what's happening to her in the city of Baedal, there's another curve ball thrown her way. She appreciates it in her own way. Misplaced dreams are interesting enough to break up any perceived monotony, not that Odessa is able to make heads or tails of what she dreamt – what little of it she remembers. But it did distinctly put her off of vodka for the time being.

Mornings are spent at work, with late afternoon and evening being split between running errands and social calls. Much of her days off is spent tending to her replanted garden. She's never had much of a green thumb before, but she finds nurturing her beautiful (and deadly) plants to be a worthwhile hobby, if not always the most rewarding just yet. She's also acquired a puppy that likes to thwart her efforts. She's since put a small fence around the plot on her patio to discourage curious digging. She's fortunate (the dog) that she's so cute – Odessa had to install shelves for her shoes. Fortunately that's a precaution she took before there was a tragic mishap. Still, the fluffy red thing makes a lovely and enthusiastic companion that Odessa loves to trot out. She still dearly misses her cat, but even she has to admit that it's much easier to convince a dog to come along with her wherever she goes.

The dog wins this round.

Comments

» Irene ; Mafaton, Odessa's Home

[whattigerscanchange]

Mafaton comes alive (har har) with a night life of its own, but the resident of Luscinia Loft isn't as nocturnal as she once was. She winds her arms around the (frankly gorgeous) woman in her bed and sleepily rests her forehead against her temple. She's deliciously sore and she'll feel it even more acutely come morning, but what she won't do is regret any of it. Irene Adler has this beautiful method of making Odessa feel languid, and quiets her mind in a way few others have achieved.

Which is fortunate, because if Odessa gave too much thought to it, she'd realise her lover has a rather unique insight into how her mind works. Or more specifically, her guilt complex.

Odessa sighs quietly into Irene's hair. "Do you need to get home tonight? Or can you afford to lay here until morning?"

[thedominatrix]

"You know, I'd so much rather stay."

It's true. The comedown after a scene is as important as what happens during it- and Irene does what she does because she doesn't just love it but needs it. She feels as blissfully exhausted as Odessa does, having pushed herself beyond her own beloved complex webs of manipulation and disguise and into something much more primal and simple- a connection. It's so intimate, what they do, and she's not at all ready to end that completely by leaving so soon. It would feel too raw, too sudden, and knock her all off-balance.

Anyway, what's the fun in sleeping alone?

She stretches lazily, pulling Odessa closer before her hand finds hers, stroking a thumb idly over her knuckles. "You're going to be black and blue," she remarks- not without a certain pride.

[whattigerscanchange]

"Mmm. I was so hoping you'd say that."

Odessa's fingers lace with Irene's, scarred mouth curving slowly into a smile. "I'm fortunate to wear those colours well, I think," she remarks idly. Also fortunate enough to be skilled enough with her make-up that she can cover the worst of it, if she absolutely has to. She's long since perfected the art of concocting plausible stories to mask the true nature of whatever marks are left over from sessions like these, if she feels the need to lie about it at all. Modesty is not Odessa's strong suit.

Neither is guilt, as it happens, but there are exceptions to every rule, she supposes. "Do you mind if I ask you something of a professional question?"

[thedominatrix]

"Your profession or mine?" Irene asks, a slight touch of amusement in her voice. She lets her eyes flicker shut, enjoying the satisfied, drowsy warmth, relaxed but still feeling everything ten times more strongly than usual.

"Go right ahead, darling."