castaside | [Heart Game] From the ashes we can build

I should be asking you that. You were gone there for a minute.

I'm —

[ she swallows thickly. "fine?" no. she's far from it.

and finally wraps her arms around him in return. ]

Just … lost in thought. [ her hesitation is palpable, but then, slowly, as her wings tuck in tighter against her back, ] It was rejection. Because he looked different. All he wanted was to belong, and they chased him off, out of the nest. They -

They were cruel.

[.....oh]

Most are. [He wraps his arms tight around her.] To what looks different.

Not all though.

Not all.

[ But enough.

It's enough, and those wounds can dig deep. They can fester. ]

They're why I always try so hard to hide my scars. One of the reasons, anyway. [ She has been making some kind of progress these past few months, though, as long as she's inside Birdtile house. It's slow and sometimes it's three steps back for every one step forward, but her loved ones have been helping her carve out a space that feels safe. ] ... So it hit close to home. Sorry for worrying you.

I hope ...

I hope we can be a safe space for him. A "home" where he can just be himself.

Of course it hit close to home. [They had been lucky. Their father knew what would happen. New York City had the advantage of ignoring A LOT of weird, but there was a line when it came to humans. They could get away walking around, even limited direct interaction. Bold faced standing out, however? That was another matter.]

[That way led to rejection and danger.]

Though I still think you look lovely.

We'll convince him. He's been able to keep them down these last few weeks. The glamours.

[ Her next breath shudders hard, and when she tries to laugh, it comes out ragged and tight, almost whisper quiet. ]

You're a turtle of taste. [ She presses closer. ] ... It's easier around you. You just ...

You see me. [ And he likes what he sees? She knows he does. She knows every compliment is the truth as he sees it, though she can't always believe it for herself. ]

And we see him. We can talk about it with him, maybe, or ... hah, maybe we can put up a few signs. [ She's half joking with that one. ] He can decide what he's comfortable with. He just has to know that he can be safe with us.

[ ... ]

Hey ... Donnie? Can I ask for -

... I guess it might be a weird favor.

[He pulls her close and settles on the ground. Reaching up to stroke her hair.] I have excellent taste.

And you are very bright.

We could have 'glamours not required' as a test. Let him know it's a safe space to decide.

Datemate can ask weird favors.

[ Ah, hairpets. Her weakness. Also cuddles. Also proximity to Donnie in general. In another place, another time, she'd likely burrow herself straight into his lap. ]

Glamours not required. [ This laugh, at least, is closest to something more normal, albeit still soft and very brief. ] Hmm. Wonder if he'd be more embarrassed about that, or ... if I painted the three of us together. No scarf, no battleshell, no glamours. What do you think-?

[ It'd be one hell of a statement. For all three of them. ]

... Okay. [ Mumbles, ] ... Could you bite me? Not to start anything, just - [ a reminder. a real, physical reminder that she can feel without touching. ]

[He considers.] The sign is indirect, and easier to ignore. The painting would be a direct attack on his heart.

I think maybe the sign and if he doesn't immediately leave after seeing it from embarrassment, THEN we try the painting?

Plus you need time to paint. I can have a sign up in thirty minutes. [Because it'll be ~fancy~]

....

Oh.

Shoulder or...?

[ Hmm, nods against his shoulder. ]

The wording might be edging towards too blunt? Hmm. We could workshop it, maybe ask Eve-chan. [ As someone who shapeshifts on the regular. ]

Maybe I could try to make a custom frame for the painting ... That'd definitely take me some time. [ It'd have to be GOOD. Something that complements the art. ]

[ The pause almost has her wilting. ]

Up, um, up to you. Whatever you'd be comfortable with, if you are. It's okay if you aren't.

Is it? Because that's why I wasn't thinking 'You don't need glamours.' Being not required means he gets to choose.

And he...doesn't seem to mind blunt?

A custom frame is very nice.

[Listen, the pause is because its a Shift in some serious gears.]

I meant...

Do you want neck? I don't know why exactly you want it so it should be what's helping you more?

It could be. I know I'd prob'ly feel self-conscious if I was in his shoes ... Touched, but self-conscious.

But it's always kinda tricky anyways, when it's something someone learned about in a heart game. [ HMM. ]

[ Ruffles and resettles her feathers. ]

S'because ... that memory ...

It stirred up some stuff. I feel unsettled and kinda icky and ... it'd be a reminder. That I'm here. With you. Someone who accepts me. So really, either is fine.

That's why sign before painting.

But when you're used to hiding, you'll assume you should be hiding. How could it be clear, but even less blunt than that?

He knew we were going to learn things.

[He hums. Then he's going to reach up for her scarf.]

So. Neck.

Different wording, maybe-? I'm not saying it's bad wording, it's just ... very directly about him. [ A thoughtful noise. ] If it was you ...

Would you be more comfortable with the sign, or a conversation?

[ She hugs him tighter for a moment, before loosening her grip to help him with her scarf — and the choker she's wearing underneath it. ]

The sign is very clear. Conversations are a die roll. I like clear.

Especially when its not a bad sign.

...are you adding more layers?

I'd ... maybe be more comfortable with the conversation? Ah, it's hard to say.

... So, I'll follow your lead.

[ There's.

A pause. ]

Um. Sometimes. [ She almost wore a turtleneck today too. Like, on top of the choker. She fiddles with the clasp. ]

He's....

Forgiving of mistakes.

If the sign is bad, he'll say. But then its something he can choose to engage with.

[...]

Choco.

Sweetie.

Beloved.

Darling sweetie pie caramel apple.

We have really either need to get you a dedicated tailor or therapy, you're going to keep overheating.

[ The longer he goes with the pet names the more she blushes, and then she's sputtering ]

That was one time! And some of my things are already tailored; someone [ RED SON ] gave me a really good recommendation ...

The choker and the scarf are both custom pieces.

One time is one too many.

[He's reaching back to help with the clasp.] This many layers is still not ideal with spring moving in.

I understand covering up, but this many layers isn't really necessary.

One time in the Temple, where I didn't have such easy access to resources.

[ Her wings flick and tremble, a moment of tense uncertainty when he reaches up and back ...

But she knows these hands. She knows it's him; it could only be him. So she breathes through it and relaxes, letting him help in a way that would have been all but unthinkable just a month ago. ]

The scarf's light and breathable, Donnie. Promise. I know it's maybe not ideal, but I am working on it.

[His touch is light and careful. Undoing the clasp to take off the choker.]

I just don't want you to get worse.

It sucks.

When the issues get worse. [He knows. He fights so hard to not let things make his touch issues even worse. The bruises on his shoulders are proof what happens when he doesn't push back.]

[He tugs her closer, mouth edging towards her neck.]

I know.

You're worried about me, same way I worry about you. [ She tilts her head to boop her cheek against the shoulder clasp of his battleshell, which also gives him clearer access to her neck. Her fingers curl into the back of his hoodie, tightening and loosening, almost kneading. ]

But it ... it is getting better in some ways. Could you imagine? Six months ago, me letting anyone touch me like this outside of medical care? [ It had been aspirational at best. ] I've been trying knee-high socks instead of thigh-highs. Three-quarter leggings instead of tights. Yesterday I left my room in a t-shirt.

[ There's a shiver when he's close enough for her to feel his breath. And a soft chirp, trust. ]

Really, you should come out in them more. You'd drive Eve and I absolutely wild.

[He lets his mouth hover over her neck. Letting her get used to him so close.] It had been hard, even for medical care.

I'm going to bite now. [His hands hold her sides gently. Letting her feel them, but making it so easy to pull away if she wanted to.]

[Then he moves his mouth to her neck, and biting down, gentle at first, then harder to leave a mark.]

Ehehe. You like my guns, huh? [ He might be able to feel the way she smiles, and the little hint of a puff to her feathers gives her away if not. ] Lemme show you something, after - after this. [ A tighter squeeze in the hug - after he's done biting, not after the heart. ]

[ Having him so close like this isn't wholly new by now, but it's still rare; a special occasion and a treat for them both that hits her like a truck. She makes a little sound, a lower-pitched chirrupy trill. Leans into him instead of away. Her nerves are more anticipation than fea; Donnie would never hurt her, not like this, and never by choice. Each and every time he lets her feel his teeth is a gift, and a reminder that she's his and he's hers.

That he sees her, and loves her for it.

She shudders harder when those sharp teeth press down, and muffles a gasp against his hoodie when they press in. She clings tight to him even as she melts, one hand lifting to cradle the back of his neck. Lets the pleasure-pain ache wash through her, nerves buzzing, heart soaring, relishing every single second. ]

Love your guns. [She deserves to have her guns appreciated.]

[Donnie keeps his teeth there. Deep, marking, but never more than that. Never meant to hurt his mate. And even if its not MEANT to be a heated thing, its impossible to resist the churr in his throat as he makes his mark. Hands rubbing slow circles at her sides. Holding her close.]

[Its only for a short while, maybe twenty seconds at best so it'll stay, before he gently pulls his teeth away. Turning his face to nuzzle her shoulder, hands moving to her back to rub up and down.]

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Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

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Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

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Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door

Re: Level S (sub 1) - East Door