ic inbox (el nysa)
[Oh, that's . . . nice, actually. The brush of his fingers and the way he squeezes her and the warmth of his body as they settle beneath the sheets, all combining together to make something . . . mm. Not quite intimate, but comfortable. She'd been a little uncertain at the start of all this, but now Rosalind feels relaxed, utterly so. The wind whips outside, cold and harsh, but she feels . . .
Safe, she realizes, and it's a stunning realization. She feels safe, and more importantly, she doesn't feel alone. Here she is and here she'll stay til morning, all because he's fond of her.
It's something she hasn't felt in six months, not since Robert left her side, and she's loath to fall asleep and chase it away. So though her eyes are eager to close, Rosalind yawns and squirms, tipping her head back to push against his fingers.]
Well. If you won't tell me a story, I'll tell you one, hm? About . . . hmm. I suppose I was asking you for a fairy story; you might hear one from my world. Or something from my past, pick one of the two.
Safe, she realizes, and it's a stunning realization. She feels safe, and more importantly, she doesn't feel alone. Here she is and here she'll stay til morning, all because he's fond of her.
It's something she hasn't felt in six months, not since Robert left her side, and she's loath to fall asleep and chase it away. So though her eyes are eager to close, Rosalind yawns and squirms, tipping her head back to push against his fingers.]
Well. If you won't tell me a story, I'll tell you one, hm? About . . . hmm. I suppose I was asking you for a fairy story; you might hear one from my world. Or something from my past, pick one of the two.
1.) You kissed something, alright.
2.) See my previous 3.)
3.) Fair enough. We'll stick to handwritten trysts made entirely in code. I'll even get you a decoder ring.
[ and to answer her question without answering it: no. he barely buys himself clothes, let alone lingerie for a woman. she won't even begin to understand the trials and tribulations he's gone through for her. ]
It's black.
Sort of.
2.) See my previous 3.)
3.) Fair enough. We'll stick to handwritten trysts made entirely in code. I'll even get you a decoder ring.
[ and to answer her question without answering it: no. he barely buys himself clothes, let alone lingerie for a woman. she won't even begin to understand the trials and tribulations he's gone through for her. ]
It's black.
Sort of.
[ part of him wants to pretend he's fallen asleep. not because he's a dick (for once) just looking to make her be quiet, but because she should get as much shut-eye as she can. she's traveled miles upon miles on feet and embraced more wilderness than she would have ever wanted in her life only to fall upon his doorstep to get fucked in a shower. on her feet, at that, not even on her damn back or something. perhaps that's surprisingly kind of Bigby to think like that, but he decides not to when she suddenly throws an offer out there. ]
Oh, just so you can hold me to returning the favor at some point? I see what you're trying to do, Ms. Lutece. [ he's not completely serious, and he proves it by reaching down with his hand and giving a light swat at the side of her ass. she did expect he would touch her at some point; maybe not like that. ] I've heard enough fairy tales to last more lifetimes than you know. Let's go with something from your past.
Oh, just so you can hold me to returning the favor at some point? I see what you're trying to do, Ms. Lutece. [ he's not completely serious, and he proves it by reaching down with his hand and giving a light swat at the side of her ass. she did expect he would touch her at some point; maybe not like that. ] I've heard enough fairy tales to last more lifetimes than you know. Let's go with something from your past.
You can't act offended that I might think you'd risk my privacy (thus proving you understand why such a thing is important at all) and then in the same breath mock me for wanting said privacy. Pick one and stick to it.
Black is decent. "It's black, sort of" is not precisely the description I was hoping for, but we'll get you there yet. Sheer or solid?
Black is decent. "It's black, sort of" is not precisely the description I was hoping for, but we'll get you there yet. Sheer or solid?
I can and I will.
You've accepted me for what I am, and that includes being an unreasonable prick that annoys the fuck out of you.
[ aka, he's just bullshitting and he wants to see if it's just as easy to rouse her through text as it is in person. ]
It's black with a texture somewhere on it.
There, that better?
Both.
[ he's not going to make this easy for her. ]
You've accepted me for what I am, and that includes being an unreasonable prick that annoys the fuck out of you.
[ aka, he's just bullshitting and he wants to see if it's just as easy to rouse her through text as it is in person. ]
It's black with a texture somewhere on it.
There, that better?
Both.
[ he's not going to make this easy for her. ]
Bigby--
[She says it more laughing than protesting, so he's probably in the clear for that. Though she does reach down to grab his wrist.]
If you're going to be like that, don't do it when I'm exhausted.
[Which is more so she can buy herself time to think. Hmm . . . something from her past? It can't be something ordinary, then.]
Mm . . . I was fifteen when I first entered university. Or-- no, fourteen, but I was fifteen the first time I made a friend. I was . . . very angry as a teenager. Very, very angry. I was resentful of the world and determined to prove myself, and absolutely naive as to how things worked. I thought that if I could simply prove that everyone in the world was stupider than me, they'd all have to bow to that fact sooner or later.
Well. You can well imagine how that turned out. It wasn't nearly as bad as when I was a child, but I experienced my share of, ah, setbacks, as it were.
But I had a roommate in my second year. Victoria Pendergrass. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was very much enamored with her. She was . . . vivacious, I suppose you'd call her. Brilliant and beautiful. And of course, she had a little gang of friends, and so I gained friends through sheer proximity.
One of them rather reminds me of you. Not entirely-- you're far gruffer than Henry Standish ever was-- but you both get a kick out of setting off my temper and riling me up. He used to do it by baiting me with scientific principles.
[She yawns.]
Mm. I almost married him, actually. We, ah, he was my first-- well. He was my first, and I suppose he felt an obligation afterwards, so he proposed. It was flattering, if not both very clearly a pained effort on his part and utterly horrifying for me.
But then there was Robert, and any further propositions became unnecessary. Which really was for the best, because Henry Standish had no idea how to please a woman, stupid boy.
[She says it more laughing than protesting, so he's probably in the clear for that. Though she does reach down to grab his wrist.]
If you're going to be like that, don't do it when I'm exhausted.
[Which is more so she can buy herself time to think. Hmm . . . something from her past? It can't be something ordinary, then.]
Mm . . . I was fifteen when I first entered university. Or-- no, fourteen, but I was fifteen the first time I made a friend. I was . . . very angry as a teenager. Very, very angry. I was resentful of the world and determined to prove myself, and absolutely naive as to how things worked. I thought that if I could simply prove that everyone in the world was stupider than me, they'd all have to bow to that fact sooner or later.
Well. You can well imagine how that turned out. It wasn't nearly as bad as when I was a child, but I experienced my share of, ah, setbacks, as it were.
But I had a roommate in my second year. Victoria Pendergrass. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was very much enamored with her. She was . . . vivacious, I suppose you'd call her. Brilliant and beautiful. And of course, she had a little gang of friends, and so I gained friends through sheer proximity.
One of them rather reminds me of you. Not entirely-- you're far gruffer than Henry Standish ever was-- but you both get a kick out of setting off my temper and riling me up. He used to do it by baiting me with scientific principles.
[She yawns.]
Mm. I almost married him, actually. We, ah, he was my first-- well. He was my first, and I suppose he felt an obligation afterwards, so he proposed. It was flattering, if not both very clearly a pained effort on his part and utterly horrifying for me.
But then there was Robert, and any further propositions became unnecessary. Which really was for the best, because Henry Standish had no idea how to please a woman, stupid boy.
Tell me: how often has being such a thing come back to bite you in the end?
[It absolutely is that easy, she's huffing away on the other side.]
Purely black, or are there any other colors involved?
[It absolutely is that easy, she's huffing away on the other side.]
Purely black, or are there any other colors involved?
[ when she grabs his wrist, he just reaches around with his free hand and paps her on the ass again. just because he can. he doesn't say anything after, though, listening to her go on with her story. there's a few comments he wants to make, mostly about how she's too smart for her own good, and how shitty of a last name Pendergrass is, but he doesn't. not yet. not until he hears Henry Standish. ]
Please don't compare me to a guy named Henry fucking Standish.
[ then she talks about marriage and he's immediately wincing. ]
Wouldn't that make you... like, fifteen or sixteen when you almost married him.
Please don't compare me to a guy named Henry fucking Standish.
[ then she talks about marriage and he's immediately wincing. ]
Wouldn't that make you... like, fifteen or sixteen when you almost married him.
Naturally.
[A beat. She wrinkles her nose over at him.]
My mother began presenting me for marriage when I was thirteen, Bigby. That was a bit young, but she hoped to make a match based on my lineage. By sixteen I was attending every party my mother could find during semester breaks. That wasn't so young, not for us.
[A beat. She wrinkles her nose over at him.]
My mother began presenting me for marriage when I was thirteen, Bigby. That was a bit young, but she hoped to make a match based on my lineage. By sixteen I was attending every party my mother could find during semester breaks. That wasn't so young, not for us.
[ ages thirteen through sixteen for Bigby most likely consisted of him devouring animals and people double his size, so he figures he doesn't have much room to judge. so he doesn't. it's just an interesting thing to consider, Rosalind being a teenage wife. what a bullet she dodged with that one. ]
Guess it's a little funny. You went through your kid years too fast, so life tells you to chill the fuck out and you're stuck in your thirties for... how long was it, again?
Guess it's a little funny. You went through your kid years too fast, so life tells you to chill the fuck out and you're stuck in your thirties for... how long was it, again?
A fair bit.
[To be fair: she really has no idea how long to count the time she and Robert spent with Booker. On the other hand: it's more than a little misleading to keep being vague about it, but he'll never stop mocking her if she reveals she's the babiest immortal ever.]
Mm. In any case . . . there's worse I could compare you to than Henry. Be grateful.
[To be fair: she really has no idea how long to count the time she and Robert spent with Booker. On the other hand: it's more than a little misleading to keep being vague about it, but he'll never stop mocking her if she reveals she's the babiest immortal ever.]
Mm. In any case . . . there's worse I could compare you to than Henry. Be grateful.
[A few days after Bigby sent out his delightful little package, he gets one in return. It's a small thing, barely a handspan. It's both neatly wrapped and immensely light, and when Bigby opens it, he'll find . . . a pile of ash. Ash and soot, with a notecard perched right on top:
It's a week or so later that she comes back to Wyver. She'd told Bigby she was coming, so it oughtn't be such a surprise in the evening when she knocks on his door. What is odd are the sheer number of things she has with her. A small bag (really just a lot of cloth cleverly tied together, complete with gaps for air) is slung over her shoulder, and she has a large bag full of heaven only knows what in her hand.
She smells . . . odd. Like herself, yes, and perhaps a bit like the horse she rode in on, but there's something else there. Something that's coming from that cloth bag . . . hmm!]
It's a week or so later that she comes back to Wyver. She'd told Bigby she was coming, so it oughtn't be such a surprise in the evening when she knocks on his door. What is odd are the sheer number of things she has with her. A small bag (really just a lot of cloth cleverly tied together, complete with gaps for air) is slung over her shoulder, and she has a large bag full of heaven only knows what in her hand.
She smells . . . odd. Like herself, yes, and perhaps a bit like the horse she rode in on, but there's something else there. Something that's coming from that cloth bag . . . hmm!]
[ when he got a return package from Rosalind, he wasn't surprised. he expected it was his lovely gift of tasteful pasties returned in pristine condition, sooner sent back to him before being getting pulled out of the box it was packed in.
upon opening it, he was still surprised. touché, Rosalind Lutece. those pasties were more expensive than he had thought and he would have liked to simply return them, but melting them into nothing but ash is also fine. he can't even get mad.
anyway, fast forward that week or so later and it's Rosalind herself at his doorstep, not a package. opening his door to see her outside is far from shocking news these days, but the fact that it looks like she's become a hitchhiker with the bag over her shoulder is. before his nose can pin the nature of that peculiar scent, his eyes lower and he looks at her with a single finger pointed her way. ]
If you were trying to move in, I would have expected more luggage.
upon opening it, he was still surprised. touché, Rosalind Lutece. those pasties were more expensive than he had thought and he would have liked to simply return them, but melting them into nothing but ash is also fine. he can't even get mad.
anyway, fast forward that week or so later and it's Rosalind herself at his doorstep, not a package. opening his door to see her outside is far from shocking news these days, but the fact that it looks like she's become a hitchhiker with the bag over her shoulder is. before his nose can pin the nature of that peculiar scent, his eyes lower and he looks at her with a single finger pointed her way. ]
If you were trying to move in, I would have expected more luggage.
i was like "i'll post this early so we can backtag before the day passes"
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originallutece
2018-02-17 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
If I was trying to move in, Bigby, you'd know, because I'd have declared my intent to conquer weeks ago.
[She sets her things down in the hall. There's a few odd smells from there, but they're mostly chemical and nature-like, which is fairly normal for her. What isn't normal is the thing she holds on her back, which has begun wiggling in eagerness.]
And frankly, you deserve nothing less than conquering after that hideous gift you sent me. Stop that--
[That's to the package, and she finally unties her package, twisting it so she can gather it in her arms. The fabric falls, revealing . . . a little hippo, tiny and absolutely ecstatic to be out in the open. Or perhaps he's happy for another reason; Rosalind has her suspicions on that front, but she won't voice them when Darwin is acting like this.]
If you eat my pet, Bigby Wolf, I'll never forgive you. Say hello.
[She sets her things down in the hall. There's a few odd smells from there, but they're mostly chemical and nature-like, which is fairly normal for her. What isn't normal is the thing she holds on her back, which has begun wiggling in eagerness.]
And frankly, you deserve nothing less than conquering after that hideous gift you sent me. Stop that--
[That's to the package, and she finally unties her package, twisting it so she can gather it in her arms. The fabric falls, revealing . . . a little hippo, tiny and absolutely ecstatic to be out in the open. Or perhaps he's happy for another reason; Rosalind has her suspicions on that front, but she won't voice them when Darwin is acting like this.]
If you eat my pet, Bigby Wolf, I'll never forgive you. Say hello.
Way to make that sound more sexual than it needed to.
[ he's getting more of said scent when she invites herself in, and he is left scratching at the back of his neck while leaning into the door. Bigby's just going to watch to see what the hell she is doing and/or planning, but he can't help but kick himself off the wall when he sees whatever is in the bag moving. ]
Rosalind, I swear to god, if you brought an—
[ an animal. she's untied the package and it's a motherfucking hippo of all things now inside his home, freed and excited to no longer be imprisoned and carried around like it was nothing. Bigby is immediately growling, leaning in and doubling over so that he was almost eye-level with the creature. ]
Already asking myself if it's worth the consequence. I'm not saying hello to a hippo, Rosalind.
[ why the fuck does she have a— nevermind, that's meant to be asked aloud. ]
Why the fuck do you have a hippo, Rosalind.
[ he's getting more of said scent when she invites herself in, and he is left scratching at the back of his neck while leaning into the door. Bigby's just going to watch to see what the hell she is doing and/or planning, but he can't help but kick himself off the wall when he sees whatever is in the bag moving. ]
Rosalind, I swear to god, if you brought an—
[ an animal. she's untied the package and it's a motherfucking hippo of all things now inside his home, freed and excited to no longer be imprisoned and carried around like it was nothing. Bigby is immediately growling, leaning in and doubling over so that he was almost eye-level with the creature. ]
Already asking myself if it's worth the consequence. I'm not saying hello to a hippo, Rosalind.
[ why the fuck does she have a— nevermind, that's meant to be asked aloud. ]
Why the fuck do you have a hippo, Rosalind.
[Rosalind's mouth twitches in amusement as Darwin, now eye to eye with Bigby, snorts happily. Hallo, Bigby, and he'll absolutely try and nose against him if he can. Because, see, yes, Bigby admittedly smells of wolf, and yes, admittedly that's a fair bit frightening, but if Mum likes him, Darwin likes him.
So there's a lot of affection in those black eyes and wiggling ears.]
I received an egg a fortnight ago. This is what hatched. And I have it here and now specifically because he's only a few days old, and I shan't leave him alone.
I don't know why you're fussing. You're an animal; what on earth could your objection be?
[She's enjoying this.]
So there's a lot of affection in those black eyes and wiggling ears.]
I received an egg a fortnight ago. This is what hatched. And I have it here and now specifically because he's only a few days old, and I shan't leave him alone.
I don't know why you're fussing. You're an animal; what on earth could your objection be?
[She's enjoying this.]
[ ugh. ugh. he isn't going to be accepting this affection anytime soon, so any wiggling of ears or an attempt to rub that wet snout against Bigby is met with a hot gust of air going through his nose. Rosalind might know more about him than most, but just because he is sort-of-kind-of animal doesn't mean he takes well to others. in fact, it is quite the opposite. ]
You're a human. Are you trying to tell me that you have never had a problem with another human? Or that you might want to be as far as fucking possible from a particular human?
[ who the hell gets an egg that contains a hippo. hippos aren't even born in eggs. this is some genuine bullshit, and while he's already accepted that he doesn't like the weird way this world and/or universe handles things, having baby hippos emerge from eggs is just too much. ]
At least tell me you didn't specifically ask for this.
You're a human. Are you trying to tell me that you have never had a problem with another human? Or that you might want to be as far as fucking possible from a particular human?
[ who the hell gets an egg that contains a hippo. hippos aren't even born in eggs. this is some genuine bullshit, and while he's already accepted that he doesn't like the weird way this world and/or universe handles things, having baby hippos emerge from eggs is just too much. ]
At least tell me you didn't specifically ask for this.
I've never reacted that way to an infant, which is what Darwin essentially is.
[That's so rude? Rosalind sets Darwin down, where he immediately races forward, butting his head hard against Bigby's ankle. Pay attention to him, you fuck.]
And no, I didn't. I found the egg at random; I kept it, wondering what new idiocy this was, and ten days later, I have my first child. He seems fond of you, doesn't he?
[That's so rude? Rosalind sets Darwin down, where he immediately races forward, butting his head hard against Bigby's ankle. Pay attention to him, you fuck.]
And no, I didn't. I found the egg at random; I kept it, wondering what new idiocy this was, and ten days later, I have my first child. He seems fond of you, doesn't he?
[ what the fuck? ow? Bigby does not take kindly to this hippo running up on his ankle like he's actually a bull. it takes every bit of him liking Rosalind to not kick the hippo across the room. he's done that before you know. kick hippos. or blow them away, anyway. maybe even eat them. details, details. ]
Please do not call the hippo your child.
[ he isn't going to be calling the hippo Darwin anytime soon, because Bigby knows why the scientist has gone and named it after another scientist. she thinks she is soooo cute. well, NOT. ]
Are you being sarcastic? I don't know if fond is the word I would use. It's probably waiting to get bigger so it can try to steamroll me.
[ even if everything is telling him to step far away from the dumb thing, he hunches down to pick up the blob. now it is in both of his hands, held like a baby would be by an inexperienced adult, limbs dangling precariously in the air. ]
And have you thought to consider what you're going to do with this asshole when he does get bigger?
Please do not call the hippo your child.
[ he isn't going to be calling the hippo Darwin anytime soon, because Bigby knows why the scientist has gone and named it after another scientist. she thinks she is soooo cute. well, NOT. ]
Are you being sarcastic? I don't know if fond is the word I would use. It's probably waiting to get bigger so it can try to steamroll me.
[ even if everything is telling him to step far away from the dumb thing, he hunches down to pick up the blob. now it is in both of his hands, held like a baby would be by an inexperienced adult, limbs dangling precariously in the air. ]
And have you thought to consider what you're going to do with this asshole when he does get bigger?
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