[She has very powerful fingers, and even though he moves, she doesn't actually release his lips.
The problem is, she hadn't actually thought through what she was to do after she shut him up. (The good thing is... she seems to be increasingly distracted from her sadness.) Her own lips purse in frustration, a hint of color rising on her skin, trying to make sure she doesn't pinch too hard.]
[He blinks, and, unless he wants a bruised mouth for decidedly unattractive reasons, he should probably listen, so he gives an 'uh huh' noise and a comical little nod.
(If his antics cheer Hayame up even a little, then... bonus?)]
[Carefully, she removes the pinch from his lips, slowly pulling her hand back as if daring him to say more. And, to be a good role model... she moves to resume eating herself, intent on polishing off a good deal more of the food on the table.
[Claude is giving her the full pathetic kicked puppy eyes as she removes her hand, and sits back down in his seat, looking appropriately chastised. Then he resumes eating, to try to conquer the last plateful he can manage. He's starting to feel pretty full anyway, but at least Hayame can finish off the things he doesn't. Maybe next time he'll offer even more food, seeing her appetite for himself.
He does keep giving not-so-subtle glances to her in the meantime, though. Or clearing this throat. Is he allowed to talk yet? Does she have anything else to talk about, or would she prefer the silence persisted?]
[Those puppy dog eyes won't work on her! She doesn't stop him from talking again now that she's released him (as long as he doesn't bring up foolhardy heroic lines about making it back to her world, anyway), but she herself does focus more on eating... Until she's decimated a lot of what he provided. But considering her size, maybe it wasn't so shocking.
When she finishes, though, she folds her napkin and bows her head.]
Thank you for the meal.
[She is... not aware of the courtesy. Should she offer to... clean? To wash dishes? There is an awkward moment where it might be obvious that she doesn't know what to do... until she stands, adjusting her clothing and... looking as if she's about to... leave?]
[Claude looks disappointed that she's seemingly getting up to leave on such an awkward note. He hadn't expected her to clean -- this was his treat for her, so of course he wanted to treat her like a guest -- but it seems she hadn't intended to linger anyway.]
Oh, okay? I'll see you then. Did you forget to take care of something?
[He's not really expecting an explanation, though, getting to his feet to start collecting empty plates.]
[Hayame... pauses. Hesitates. She thought she had figured out how best to smoothly go about this, but. ... It would not be shocking to be wrong. She has never spent the night in a home, beyond the one she had spent Blight-wrecked on Claude's living room floor. She has never had to account for anyone else that wasn't a stall neighbor in the stables.]
... I need to bathe.
[Well, "need" was a strong word, but she preferred to do her bathing at night... and she'd scouted out a public bath nearby on her way here...]
I did not think your bath would be... large enough.
[She needed something at least as large as the ones at World's Edge to be comfortable, and she'd just assumed...]
[He just has a small, standard apartment, suited for human-sized occupants. If Hayame makes a habit of staying over, he's going to need to look at getting a place suited for her. But he'll take it one step at a time; no need to move things too quickly and scare her off.]
I'll clean up here and get the bed ready. I mean, if you want to stay the night? [She said she'd be back, and he assumes it's not just to hang out.]
[The all too easily summoned flush is back on her skin, constantly betraying her despite her best efforts. She almost opens her mouth to ask if that had not been clear before, if she had perhaps misunderstood, but no, that would complicate things, wouldn't it? She should just roll with it, like she did such things all the time-
Get the bed ready... Her skin grows more rosy as she prepares to temporarily escape, pausing in his entranceway with her tail swishing. Manners...]
The only thing I'll need... is you back in my life.
[He adopts a dramatic tone, even as he he leaves a stack of plates next to the sink. You know, like she's going on a long expedition to some far-flung land, and not a few blocks away to a bathhouse.
Then he peeks at the doorway, and flashes her a wink.]
[... She was a fool's fool to think he might have said something practical!!!! Like... like shaving oil or... or soap! Hayame bristles with embarrassment in the entranceway, prancing in place and stumbling over something to say to make it clear to him how silly such lines were, but the only thing that comes out is a flustered,]
I am leaving!
[And the door is... Okay, she doesn't slam it, but. She shuts it... firmly!!!
Her walk to the bathhouse is more of a stomp, red-faced and scaring a few people in the streets to get out of her way, but in the bathhouse... she calms back down. The pools are big enough there that she doesn't need to worry about her size, the water is hot... and she has always taken a certain degree in comfort from being able to cleanse herself. It is relaxing. And even if she thinks... the rest of the night might not be so relaxing... that from now there is... sleeping...
Just about an hour later, she is back, rapping her knuckles on his door again. This time, though, there is a bit of dampness clinging to her skin, her not-quite-dry hair piled atop her head in buns, her tail tied up, and a bundle of towel and toiletries in her arms.]
[He laughs at her dramatic flounce -- can't pinch his mouth shut again if she's running away! -- and leaves her in peace to stomp off. In the meantime he does as he says and gets the bed ready, new sheets and all, along with doing the dishes... which results in only a minor disaster of one plate crashing to the floor. He's scrambling to find a broom when Hayame knocks.]
Welcome back! [He answers the door, broom still in hand and looking slightly sheepish.] Er, how was the bath?
[Nothing to see here. He's definitely not a klutzy rich boy who's still kind of a disaster when it comes to cleaning.]
[She'd even hit a sweet spot in the evening before the rush, so she hadn't even had to deal with sharing the water with many others, which was a bonus...
But as she lets herself back in and balances with one hand on the wall, twisting about to repick her hooves, she... cannot help but look at the broom with a rising eyebrow.]
[He hides the broom behind his back... which is even less effective than it already was when she's taller than him, but he tried.]
Nope, no problem! Just finishing tidying up. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable.
[He turns (still not really hiding the broom) and goes to finish sweeping up, whistling innocently to try to hide the clinking of broken ceramic. Everything's under control here??? It's fine.]
[... He definitely broke something. But far be it for her to call a man out in his own house about breaking his own dishes? If he didn't want her help... She does not offer.]
Very well.
[She finishes picking her hooves and gives them a last brushing to make sure they're as clean as the rest of her despite her trip back through the streets, only then heading back properly into his house and drifting to the living room... Where she finds his mattress. On the floor. Again. Not that she should be surprised, it... is probably the only way to not break his bed, but.
At least he's busy sweeping up and she can stand there hesitant by herself.
By the time he's done... she will have convinced herself to lay down on her belly on the mattress, curling up as tightly as she could and stretching to reach her tail. She'd brought oils and her comb for her nightly routine, so... she sets to it, beginning to slowly and carefully brush out as much as she could reach.]
[Once Claude is finally done, he returns to the living room, with a tray laden with tea for them both, much like they'd shared before. He leaves it on the coffee table to brew in the pot, and now it's his turn to linger uncertainly as he watches her brush her tail.]
Need any help? [He knows full well how proud she is, but it does look tricky to reach unassisted.]
[Her first instinct is to say "no". Because she is proud, she is doesn't like to accept help for much anything at all, and on top of that... It's her tail. Which is very close to other parts of her body that would probably become visible if he had said tail in his lap. But...
Nothing will change if she just refuses things. She had come here, hadn't she? And she had accepted his meal. And she did have a lot of hair... So after a long moment, a brow furrowed in internal debate...]
... You may help with my mane, if you are so inclined.
[She gives her tail a last few strokes, awkwardly turning the oiled-up comb over in her hands a few times before she offers it to him.]
All right. [She seems embarassed about her tail, which is fair enough. It's a lot more intimate than just grooming a horse, even though he has plenty of practice with that.
Instead, he sits down on the mattress next to her, and it dips slightly under his weight. He takes the offered comb, apprising her mane.]
Mind helping me with this part? I don't want to tangle your hair before we've even started. [The buns, he means. He doesn't have hair that long, so he wouldn't know where to begin with taking it out of a bun. He's probably caused enough messes for one evening, he thinks.]
[... It is a considerate question. She has already decided to let him (and she'd said it out loud, so she couldn't let herself take it back), but it still takes her a moment to remember how to speak when he sits down next to her. Which was foolish, because of course he had to sit next to her to do it, but.
She'd learned very quickly in Horos and Kenos that the culture of most other places did not seem to involve respectable women only allowing their husbands to see them with their hair down. It still takes her a moment to decouple from the idea of how intimate such a thing was to her, to tell herself that here it is just hair-]
... of course.
[That she releases from the loose, post-bathing bun in a heavy fall of ebony strands. She had not been allowed to cut it since she left fillyhood behind, and unbound it reaches to her fetlocks, longer than some men were tall. Thanks to the bathhouse's aromatic shampoos, it smells slightly of lavender.]
[Claude watches as her hair tumbles down, and he feels almost like he's seeing her in a new light. That she's even letting him see, much less touch...]
...You're so beautiful. [He says it, almost awe-stricken, and takes the comb, gathering a section of her hair to begin combing, starting from the middle and down to the tips. He's trying to be as gentle as possible, especially when her mane feels so silky smooth compared to the wild tangle of curly hair he has.]
[When is she going to develop some sort of... some sort of defense against his tongue? The moment he says it she averts her head, shifting heavily on the mattress with a little hmmph so that he can get a full view of jet black mane and not her pink-cheeked face.]
I know. You do not need to say it.
[... Except she knew because potential buyers had called her beautiful, and unlike friends, family, or lovers... potential buyers had no reason to lie to property about their visual appeal. ... It sounds much nicer when Claude says it, even if it has more chance of being a lie or empty flattery.
... It feels nice, too. Having someone else brush her hair. Her fingers curl on the bony knees of her forelegs, shoulders rising slightly and an occasional shiver running down her back to the rhythm of his combing.]
I can't praise the lady I love? You have an awful lot of rules.
[Don't say this, don't behave like that... But at least she's confident in her looks instead of denying it or playing coy, so he can appreciate that much, even if he hasn't quite comprehended the reasons why she has that confidence. He shifts his weight slightly as he reaches for the strands further away, and he can't deny how well-groomed she keeps herself. A strange trait for a warrior who acts like womanhood is a burden, but something he appreciates, all the same.]
Want me to keep going? [He sits back once he's done with the middle to the tips, wondering if she wants to comb the rest of her mane from the roots, or if she trusts him to do it.]
[It feels as if he’s talking about someone else, even though she knows he’s referring to her. The idea of being that, of being called that by someone… is just still that unbelievable to her. Her? Hayame? The lady someone loved?
She doesn’t even know how to respond to it, unable to muster even denial or anything beyond a humming silence. If she just lets him say it, perhaps he will eventually tire of it… or she will just somehow magically discover the proper way to handle it. (Something about muscles that had wasted away-)]
If you are going to tend to it, you may as well see it through.
[It is a mumble, but it is audible, and to be helpful… she hunches slightly to minimize the difference in their heights, tail swishing slightly over the sheets. If she closed her eye (and the eyelids over the empty socket)…
Can do. [He scoots closer, and up onto his knees. Even more gently than before, he starts from her scalp, starting with the strands that frame her face, combing down in careful strokes. Trying not to catch her ear, or her eyepatch, or irritate her scalp. She'd closed her eye, and somehow, once again, she was trusting him with something he wasn't sure if he'd earned.
Before long, though, he's getting back into the rhythm of combing, and starts humming away as he works. If he messes up at any point, he's sure she'll tell him.]
She tries to leave it at first, stubborn and reluctant to remove it in front of anyone, but… it is impractical. It would be shifted around by the movement of her hair anyway, if he tried to comb around it, so. Slowly, without comment, she reaches up to undo the connecting point where the straps crossed behind her skull, pulling it off and holding it tightly in one hand.
… It’s fine. He’s behind her.
He won’t see the unbeautiful part of her from there.]
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leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
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The problem is, she hadn't actually thought through what she was to do after she shut him up. (The good thing is... she seems to be increasingly distracted from her sadness.) Her own lips purse in frustration, a hint of color rising on her skin, trying to make sure she doesn't pinch too hard.]
... Are you going to eat your food now?
[Blinking or nodding would do...]
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(If his antics cheer Hayame up even a little, then... bonus?)]
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Very well.
[Carefully, she removes the pinch from his lips, slowly pulling her hand back as if daring him to say more. And, to be a good role model... she moves to resume eating herself, intent on polishing off a good deal more of the food on the table.
She wasn't kidding about the two stomachs.]
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He does keep giving not-so-subtle glances to her in the meantime, though. Or clearing this throat. Is he allowed to talk yet? Does she have anything else to talk about, or would she prefer the silence persisted?]
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When she finishes, though, she folds her napkin and bows her head.]
Thank you for the meal.
[She is... not aware of the courtesy. Should she offer to... clean? To wash dishes? There is an awkward moment where it might be obvious that she doesn't know what to do... until she stands, adjusting her clothing and... looking as if she's about to... leave?]
- I shall return in about an hour.
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Oh, okay? I'll see you then. Did you forget to take care of something?
[He's not really expecting an explanation, though, getting to his feet to start collecting empty plates.]
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... I need to bathe.
[Well, "need" was a strong word, but she preferred to do her bathing at night... and she'd scouted out a public bath nearby on her way here...]
I did not think your bath would be... large enough.
[She needed something at least as large as the ones at World's Edge to be comfortable, and she'd just assumed...]
Is it... ?
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[He just has a small, standard apartment, suited for human-sized occupants. If Hayame makes a habit of staying over, he's going to need to look at getting a place suited for her. But he'll take it one step at a time; no need to move things too quickly and scare her off.]
I'll clean up here and get the bed ready. I mean, if you want to stay the night? [She said she'd be back, and he assumes it's not just to hang out.]
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[The all too easily summoned flush is back on her skin, constantly betraying her despite her best efforts. She almost opens her mouth to ask if that had not been clear before, if she had perhaps misunderstood, but no, that would complicate things, wouldn't it? She should just roll with it, like she did such things all the time-
Get the bed ready... Her skin grows more rosy as she prepares to temporarily escape, pausing in his entranceway with her tail swishing. Manners...]
Do you... need anything? While I am out?
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[He adopts a dramatic tone, even as he he leaves a stack of plates next to the sink. You know, like she's going on a long expedition to some far-flung land, and not a few blocks away to a bathhouse.
Then he peeks at the doorway, and flashes her a wink.]
Just kidding. I'm good, thanks.
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I am leaving!
[And the door is... Okay, she doesn't slam it, but. She shuts it... firmly!!!
Her walk to the bathhouse is more of a stomp, red-faced and scaring a few people in the streets to get out of her way, but in the bathhouse... she calms back down. The pools are big enough there that she doesn't need to worry about her size, the water is hot... and she has always taken a certain degree in comfort from being able to cleanse herself. It is relaxing. And even if she thinks... the rest of the night might not be so relaxing... that from now there is... sleeping...
Just about an hour later, she is back, rapping her knuckles on his door again. This time, though, there is a bit of dampness clinging to her skin, her not-quite-dry hair piled atop her head in buns, her tail tied up, and a bundle of towel and toiletries in her arms.]
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Welcome back! [He answers the door, broom still in hand and looking slightly sheepish.] Er, how was the bath?
[Nothing to see here. He's definitely not a klutzy rich boy who's still kind of a disaster when it comes to cleaning.]
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[She'd even hit a sweet spot in the evening before the rush, so she hadn't even had to deal with sharing the water with many others, which was a bonus...
But as she lets herself back in and balances with one hand on the wall, twisting about to repick her hooves, she... cannot help but look at the broom with a rising eyebrow.]
Is there a problem... ?
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Nope, no problem! Just finishing tidying up. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable.
[He turns (still not really hiding the broom) and goes to finish sweeping up, whistling innocently to try to hide the clinking of broken ceramic. Everything's under control here??? It's fine.]
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Very well.
[She finishes picking her hooves and gives them a last brushing to make sure they're as clean as the rest of her despite her trip back through the streets, only then heading back properly into his house and drifting to the living room... Where she finds his mattress. On the floor. Again. Not that she should be surprised, it... is probably the only way to not break his bed, but.
At least he's busy sweeping up and she can stand there hesitant by herself.
By the time he's done... she will have convinced herself to lay down on her belly on the mattress, curling up as tightly as she could and stretching to reach her tail. She'd brought oils and her comb for her nightly routine, so... she sets to it, beginning to slowly and carefully brush out as much as she could reach.]
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Need any help? [He knows full well how proud she is, but it does look tricky to reach unassisted.]
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Nothing will change if she just refuses things. She had come here, hadn't she? And she had accepted his meal. And she did have a lot of hair... So after a long moment, a brow furrowed in internal debate...]
... You may help with my mane, if you are so inclined.
[She gives her tail a last few strokes, awkwardly turning the oiled-up comb over in her hands a few times before she offers it to him.]
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Instead, he sits down on the mattress next to her, and it dips slightly under his weight. He takes the offered comb, apprising her mane.]
Mind helping me with this part? I don't want to tangle your hair before we've even started. [The buns, he means. He doesn't have hair that long, so he wouldn't know where to begin with taking it out of a bun. He's probably caused enough messes for one evening, he thinks.]
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She'd learned very quickly in Horos and Kenos that the culture of most other places did not seem to involve respectable women only allowing their husbands to see them with their hair down. It still takes her a moment to decouple from the idea of how intimate such a thing was to her, to tell herself that here it is just hair-]
... of course.
[That she releases from the loose, post-bathing bun in a heavy fall of ebony strands. She had not been allowed to cut it since she left fillyhood behind, and unbound it reaches to her fetlocks, longer than some men were tall. Thanks to the bathhouse's aromatic shampoos, it smells slightly of lavender.]
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...You're so beautiful. [He says it, almost awe-stricken, and takes the comb, gathering a section of her hair to begin combing, starting from the middle and down to the tips. He's trying to be as gentle as possible, especially when her mane feels so silky smooth compared to the wild tangle of curly hair he has.]
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I know. You do not need to say it.
[... Except she knew because potential buyers had called her beautiful, and unlike friends, family, or lovers... potential buyers had no reason to lie to property about their visual appeal. ... It sounds much nicer when Claude says it, even if it has more chance of being a lie or empty flattery.
... It feels nice, too. Having someone else brush her hair. Her fingers curl on the bony knees of her forelegs, shoulders rising slightly and an occasional shiver running down her back to the rhythm of his combing.]
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[Don't say this, don't behave like that... But at least she's confident in her looks instead of denying it or playing coy, so he can appreciate that much, even if he hasn't quite comprehended the reasons why she has that confidence. He shifts his weight slightly as he reaches for the strands further away, and he can't deny how well-groomed she keeps herself. A strange trait for a warrior who acts like womanhood is a burden, but something he appreciates, all the same.]
Want me to keep going? [He sits back once he's done with the middle to the tips, wondering if she wants to comb the rest of her mane from the roots, or if she trusts him to do it.]
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She doesn’t even know how to respond to it, unable to muster even denial or anything beyond a humming silence. If she just lets him say it, perhaps he will eventually tire of it… or she will just somehow magically discover the proper way to handle it. (Something about muscles that had wasted away-)]
If you are going to tend to it, you may as well see it through.
[It is a mumble, but it is audible, and to be helpful… she hunches slightly to minimize the difference in their heights, tail swishing slightly over the sheets. If she closed her eye (and the eyelids over the empty socket)…
Maybe it would be almost relaxing.]
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Before long, though, he's getting back into the rhythm of combing, and starts humming away as he works. If he messes up at any point, he's sure she'll tell him.]
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She tries to leave it at first, stubborn and reluctant to remove it in front of anyone, but… it is impractical. It would be shifted around by the movement of her hair anyway, if he tried to comb around it, so. Slowly, without comment, she reaches up to undo the connecting point where the straps crossed behind her skull, pulling it off and holding it tightly in one hand.
… It’s fine. He’s behind her.
He won’t see the unbeautiful part of her from there.]
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