Stray

[indecisivesock]

S T R A Y Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival. These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too. But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it. Comment with your character, preferences, desired roles, etc. Reply to others. Thread! ＰＲＯＭＰＴＳ ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them? ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors. ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able. ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care. ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced. sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss — ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand. sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep. sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will. ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly. ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought. ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station? ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before. ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference. ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you? ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point. ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with. ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them. ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here. ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone. ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed. ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again. ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

Comments

YOINK! goes the money 😈

[experiment01]

[Her eyebrows furrow in disbelief at his words and the tiny winged woman lowers her cup of green tea away from her face to stare at Brickston. Is he saying- Her thoughts are halted by the beep of the dryer and she sets her cup down on the counter, eyeing the other man as he begins to wander around her home. She was not too fussed about him looking- her room was currently locked so only her living room and hallway could be explored.

Her apartment in general had a rather muted tone to it when it came to the colors - they were meant to be ones that were relaxing and soothing, her walls having a couple of paintings that gave it a pop of color.

Sae makes her way into the hallway and removes the dry clothes from the dryer, reaching in to pull out the aforementioned wallet from the pocket of his pants and opening it up. The bills were a bit crumpled but thankfully still all intact and her eyes began to widen as she counted each one. He has this much in his wallet!? What in the world is he thinking, carrying that much on his person? The idiot! Letting out a scoff of disbelief she grabs whatever money was left in his wallet, setting it down on the dryer.]

..Not much my ass.. [This was more than enough to pay her rent for next month and still have leftover for anything else she needed. For a moment she feels just slightly guilty that she essentially snatched all the money he had in his wallet- but hey, he had offered, hadn't he?? It was fair! The cash is quickly tucked away inside the pocket of her dress, wings rustling out on her back.]

[historicallyloaded]

[ If he's disappointed by the muted tones he doesn't show it but he clearly is drawn to the paintings. He's more than content to quietly stand and appreciate Sae's paintings with a tiny dopey smile. Particularly while on the pleasant downward slope of his high, hands warmed by tea, belly satiated with some food—he stares at them longer than he normally would have if he was sober. Did she make them? If not, where did she get them from? Were they real? He only vaguely registers her rifling through the clothes, but makes no effort to see how much she's taking. His offer is as he said.

Eventually he concedes to the nearest couch and sits. Whatever's left of his tea gets safely set on the ground for the moment while he pulls his wet hairtie out and more earnestly works on drying his hair with the towel. Blonde hair to his shoulders with loose natural curls doesn't fight him much in the towel. ]

Are any of the paintings yours? Did you make them?

[experiment01]

[Sae reluctantly steps back into the living room, her phone clutched in her hands. Her eyes flicker to the paintings on the wall, lips pursed as she fiddles with her phone for a moment, text-to-speech voice droning from the small device:] The ones with the star in the corner is mine. The ones without are cheap paintings I got from a store.

[As described, the paintings with a bright yellow star peeking from the corner were made by immature hands. It was an artistic display of colors that shaped the canvas into flowers, splashes of green to signify leaves and grass, and blue dotting the background for the sky. A couple of the other paintings had no real meaning, the strokes of her brush harsh against it as if she had been angry at the time of making them. Painting had always been a good way for her to release pent-up stress whenever times got too rough for her. Ever since her encounter with Brickston, stress is all that she felt- tight on her shoulders, making her wings feel that much heavier than normal. She leaves Brickstone alone for a moment, vanishing into the kitchen only to come back with her cup of green tea and the kimbap that she sets down nearby, Sae taking a seat. The sip of her green tea has her sighing into it, fingers reaching to grab another roll that she pops into her mouth to chew on hungrily.] Your clothes are dry so you can change back into them.

Not sure how long the rain will last. [Sae contemplates just letting him borrow an umbrella and finally kicking him out of her home but a part of her hesitates. He was still high, that was clear to tell, but she was not sure if it was safe to let him walk on his own.] ..Are you feeling better?

[historicallyloaded]

Ah. [ The sound leaves his throat like she just divulged some deep profound secret, even if the answer was simply both what painting was hers and what she was artistically capable of. ]

I like it. [ He adds after a beat. He, predictably and unknowingly, points to the more angry painting. ] I don't— I-I'm not artistically talented. My family likes to collect... I suppose as most nobles do. [ He debates quietly continuing but it feels nice to talk even if she might not be the most enthused audience, it's a bar better than nothing. ] An academic fellow of mine, Rafello, is brilliant. His public paintings are macabre, abstract, dark... but in private, he paints through the eyes of another, and the results are astounding. [ He smiles as he leans back into the couch, loosely gesturing with his tea cup. ] —Full of light and passion. [ Miraculously no tea is spilled. ] You'd never know it they were from the same person.

[ He's not sure how long he's been in Sae's company, kept safe in her apartment. No good sense of time perception. It is still raining. She tells him his clothes are dry and he quirks an eyebrow up at her. Then he looks away, forcing a smile. It's bittersweet. ]

Yes I think so. [ His high is wearing off, slowly. He sort of just wants to sleep now and the couch is making that very seductive. ] I um... Thank you for looking after me, miss Sae.

[experiment01]

[The way she tilts her head to the side would let Brickston know that she was listening but in a sort of polite, indifferent manner. She doesn't speak or reply and why would she? it wasn't like she would use her voice anyway. He has already forced her enough due to his thoughtless manners and having to look after him in his drugged state. Sae knew she could have walked away and acted like he was never there in the first place, but her conscious would never allow it. The part of her that was genuinely nice and sweet; that yearned for human connection would regret it if she had. Her emotions were all over the place but Sae knew it was normal under the circumstances, considering his profession as a scientist.]

Hm. [She swirls what was left in her cup of green tea that she quickly finishes in one gulp, one hand tucking some loose strands of white hair behind her ears. Sae quickly makes her way back into the hallway but only to grab his dry clothes which she drops beside him, expression cold.] ..Don't think that this means I like you or anything. I didn't do it for you. I just didn't want to wake up in the morning to see the news of a dead man on the streets on the TV.

[She lets out a little visible huff as her phone chirps this out, nose wrinkling.] My pity only extends so far. I have an extra spare umbrella you can borrow so you can walk home without getting drenched again. I'm not letting you fall asleep here. I want you to leave as soon as possible.

[historicallyloaded]

[ Her cold expression and clearly expressed terms has him shirking into the couch, once again feeling small despite the clear height difference between them, especially with him sitting. His shoulders curl inwards and his knees touch. He looks down at his dry clothes. His brow furrows but he forces a smile, like it's all he can do to force the emotional tightness out of his throat. It's heard in his quietly rasped, pathetic answer. ] ...I was under no such mistake.

[ Brickston was desperate for validation and for acceptance, but he begrudgingly could also accept being not liked. What also drove him was a need to be useful; and he was doing no such thing sitting on her couch, in her spare clothes, drinking her tea, eating her food, and disrupting her time. All he's given her is some grief and money.

Is that all he's good for, to someone like her? Could he not be a scientist, a tinkerer, a fixer to her? At the very least she didn't want to see him dead which he supposed was. Something. This could all certainly be far worse...!

Even slightly high and somewhat spoiled, someone who'd normally more than happily throw more money at problems he can't fix—he's not emotionally unaware. Not disrespectful. She's setting some extremely fair and understandably boundaries and it's time for him to go.

He doesn't really want to change again in front of her but he figures the sooner he does the better off she'll feel. Face still red at the indignity of it, possibly feeling it even more now that he's more sober, he shuffles away from her on the couch, stands with his clothes, and like a dog out of habit moves back to the entryway where he first stripped. He's markedly more coordinated now, slipping back into his clothes without needing help or panicking. The button up shirt does take a little more time and effort than if he was completely clear headed but he manages on his own. He neatly folds the spare clothes and tucks them into the bag which he holds out for her.

Brickston opens his mouth as if to say something—apologize, maybe, but he's not sure what he should be apologizing for exactly. He feels bad and awkward for even being here but he's also not ungrateful for her hospitality. ]

Here.