RP Open Post

[goddamngrenades]

Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything.
PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever
Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with
Tag and go, baby!

Comments

[pastdoesntdefine]

"You would simply assume she had helped mop things up, helped rewrap whatever bandages used for securing your wound." There's a nod. It makes sense. And how could he have known? He'd been without magic for a long long time.

"Does it anger you? To know what they have done here?"

[goddamngrenades]

"...Not really? It was done out of a place of love. Or I'd hope, at any rate." Sure he'd have liked to know but- making his own home more secure for him? Not something he's gonna bitch about. "I thought I was done with secret bullshit when I got out of the military, though. Not a fan."

[pastdoesntdefine]

"All families have some form of secret," there's a shrug. Carolina at least seems unsurprised. "But it would seem the time approaches where you may need to ask them why they kept this from you."

A beat. "Your mother left another voicemail, by the way."

[goddamngrenades]

"...aboooout?" He thought he'd called her back? Or did he dream doing that, he does that sometimes.

[pastdoesntdefine]

There's a shrug of her shoulders. "I did not presume to listen. Besides, I was researching." Hence the book she dropped on him.

[goddamngrenades]

The book he's now looking at, flipping through to find where she'd been reading. "Is the message what brought this on- or the book?"

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Brought what on?" Said, as her tail continues to flick back and forth behind her, tip twitching like an irritable cat.

[goddamngrenades]

"Twitchy tail ceiling sitting." They've been living together for a few months but learning her body language is taking some time.

[pastdoesntdefine]

There's something of a glower in answer to that. "I do not like loose ends, or not knowing." Then a very slight huff.

"And...It will be All Hallows soon. Mortals hold it in much higher regard than those on our plane do - we hold greater interest in the winter and summer solstice." Never mind that the September equinox had had no effect on her. Or him, for that matter. "I had wanted to see what the fuss was about."

[goddamngrenades]

"Fair enough." That would bug him too. Knowing a little more now is good but- the whole story would be better.

"...Lemme guess. You found all the 'sexy _____' costumes?"

[pastdoesntdefine]

"I did notice those, but," her arms fold. "Mortals have always had strange ways of dress. The availability seems very one-sided however." Why no sexy _________ for men, hmm?

[goddamngrenades]

"Yeah. Usually when I want to be a sexy ______ my own self I gotta make it." He's done a sexy doctor, white speedo and a stethoscope. Aw yeah.

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Human definitions of desirability never cease to be strange to me." Which probably why she was never THAT sort of demon.

[goddamngrenades]

"They are in actuality wide and varied- but the media likes trying to steer shit in a certain way. Honestly I could do with more actual male objectification." Mmm. Sexy firemen. "Or, you know. A sexy costume for women that's not all about the ass and chest?"

[pastdoesntdefine]

Her head tilts slightly. He never ceased to find some means to surprise her. It meant his company was never boring, at least! "What would you prefer be objectified? The legs? The hands? The body as a whole?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Abs. Abs and shoulders and arms and, yeah, hands. Have you ever looked at some women's hands? All long fingers and narrow palms and..mmmm." So damn pretty.

[pastdoesntdefine]

Wordlessly, her hands lift, showing off talon-tipped fingers. Not particularly long digits at that. "I can understand shoulders, or the forelimbs. Hands, not so much." A human thing, indeed. "How long do these costumed celebrations last, at least?"

[goddamngrenades]

"It's a me thing." He shrugs. He loves hands, he likes using them, touching them, being touched by them. Hands were pretty solid- explaining that? Not easy. "From the middle of the month till the first day of november. Parties tend to go on all night, it's a big thing."

[pastdoesntdefine]

She smirks at him then. "So you have many days ahead where you might find partners who have hands of interest to you?" Head tilt follows. "Should I expect lateness, or next day returns?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Ahh...lateness, probably. Not next day. People also drink a lot at these parties and a little is okay but a lot blurs lines." And he did hate him some blurred lines. Ugh.

[pastdoesntdefine]

"Then I will trust you to be only a little late." Or a lot late. But with plans to return. Her tail switches a bit at the mention of blurred lines. She can appreciate his caution there. Who knows who might attempt to jump him on his journey - and her unable to come to his defense?

[goddamngrenades]

Drunken makeouts are fun. Drunken hookups? No. Not with his issues, not with how he gets all wound up and tense and impossible to talk down- well. Not lately but he'd rather not risk it all that much. The more time he spends around Carolina the easier it seems he sleeps. It's the security of having her keep an eye out, he guesses. "I'll text you so you know what's up if I'm gonna be out long."

[pastdoesntdefine]

Drunken hookups under supervision? Seem to be a borderline. She does at least look satisfied at the compromise of being texted. "It is a very convenient form of communication," she comments offhandedly, again. This modern era had plenty of those.

Speaking of: "Your mother won't appreciate you not responding promptly to her voicemail, by the way." Or so she assumes. She's seen the haggard look he's worn after avoiding a previous call.

[goddamngrenades]

"...Fiiiine." Stretched out in a petulant whine, he flops over on the sofa and stretches for the phone. One call won't kill him. If he's lucky? She won't answer. "Calling now."

Whoever made the default button press on his cellphone the bubble wrap noise is a genius, even if it's distracting. Several digits and he waits for her to pick up, one hand over his eyes.

[pastdoesntdefine]

Since York has claimed the couch in defeat, Carolina settles for smirking and slipping onto the armchair, oozing much like a cat into a comfortable position before adjusting her wings. They probably shouldn't be able to bend that way, but they do and they are, and her tail flicks back and forth at an even, steady tick as she watches.

And both ridged brows lift a little when the call connects. Oh. Oh ho ho. This might be good.