moritat | Victorian weenie au

Sensitive to changes in mood and movement, Paloma cocks her head curiously, assessing. She looks very much like a bird that's chosen to hop around with petals on its crown.

"Perhaps it is my freedom, and with it my wellness. Without your hand with mine ..."

Correctly thinking he had wanted to be improper again, she glides closely enough so as to demonstrate her words in a literal sense. Pure earnestness and trust. "You helped me to frighten evil away."

To frighten evil away, she says, and yet she knows the sort of man he is! His hand curls around hers, and in doing so the beating of his heart doesn't return to normal for long at all.

"Not at all. It was all your own doing." Not knowing what else to do, he leans down to kiss her hand.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to do.

Paloma realizes how unfair her advantages are then, with his heart thumping in her ears. It's not so easy for him to know what she feels.

She tries to show him her heart in a wee and private smile. The crooked curves of her fingers fit themselves along his cheek. Yes, she knows his sort. Fools rush in. There's no rush, is there? There mustn't be. But ...

"But the time I lied-- laid? Laid ... that time, it gave me comfort and hours to think of a future. Please. Accept my thanks? I would give more if I knew how."

What time? The time they...laid together? Is that what she means? That's the first thing his mind jumps to. It makes him panic for a moment, until he assures himself it must be when she 'slept' after Carlos left. But it's all the worse with her hand on his cheek.

"Ah- y-yes! I am very glad indeed!" No he has to manage to say more... "...I can only imagine it must be quite freeing for a woman, with no man to answer to."

Nasty-minded beast!! Naturally, she was referring to the fake sleep in his bed and not the ravishing they did in that smelly tavern on the East End.

The heavy-lidded, sly glance she throws him would imply she agreed with that general statement. Paloma could take back her fingers, but blame the lingering on her indecision. Or distraction. Either work. "What a truth! But Harry, hear me confess?"

"Of course, what is it?" Confess is quite the word, though. What does she mean by it, what could she need to confess? "We have become such confidants, it seems, that you need never ask permission."

Edited 2016-01-03 03:18 (UTC)

"Oh," she responds smartly, dazed momentarily. A confidant? If she could flush from the honor.

Right, the confession. Her hand slides off of him to wrap around her own waist. Scandalous that last dance may have ended, but it hasn't left her quiet thoughts for long. Paloma is back to demure, to hesitant.

"We never finished our waltz and I have not practiced after."

Oh. That's not at all what he expected. She's very good at making him blush. "Ah- I apologise for that. I hope you encountered no trouble for it, it was incredibly...foolish."

He wants to kiss her. No, worse. Something rumbles inside him, that disgusting slime that is his other self threatens to take hold of him. Instinctively he takes a step back, but covers it up by taking a seat.

Hello, his Royal Majesty of mixed signals. Not understanding the sudden onset of his conflict for a discomfiting second, she bravely leaps to the wrong conclusion.

"Ah! Please, I could not regret it more! No, I meant I do not. Regret, I do not regret it!" Her finger joints pop audibly from twisting so anxiously. She doesn't pursue him. "Only, should we not ... practice?"

It's a long pause until she remembers to say, "My waltz."

"Oh, if you would like, yes." It's a moment before he gets up. Between his apology and rising from the seat, he looks much more drained, suddenly. Paler, especially in comparison to all that blushing, almost tired. If he was smart, he might tell her she shouldn't stay, that he can't keep it together.

"I've been out of practice myself, it might be good for me as well."

He's as good at confusing her as she is at causing his color to rise. Paloma tries not to worry overmuch about the change, a task and a half by itself. She's an insatiable worrywart.

"We shall have triumph over dance tonight," she declares, lifting her arms high for effect. They lower enough to be guided into position, and all the while she steals s peek. In a small, small voice: "If we are fools, that is well."

"I hope so." Taking her hand and waist, he begins to guide the first steps of the dance. Even without music, being so close to her promises to be good. Although he shouldn't, he should stop himself, he should go coop himself up somewhere that he can't make things worse with her. "You tend to make me quite the fool, after all."

Saying that is probably proof.

"Then I do not feel terribly alone." Pieces. Not whole truths, not complete forthrightness, but pieces of honesty are a beginning. Paloma glides along with him to no music at all, musing that she prefers losing these masks of virtue early on. It's part of why she possessed the nerve to come back.

And then she does a rude and mischievous thing by stepping onto his foot, balanced there like a ballerina.

He laughs, taking hold of her waist with both hands to lift her as if it really were a ballet move. When he sets her down it's still on his foot. "Just as good a way to learn as any! I stood on my mother's feet as a boy."

Laughing vividly, her other foot finds his to teeter onto as well. Her heels, mercifully, don't touch him.

"Really? We do not have so many-- drastic differences. Mamá sometimes put the flowers on me and we would swing, Harry." She's bright-eyed from the excitement of nearly flying. "Can we spin? Like this?"

"Absolutely!" Once again Jekyll takes her by the waist, but this time spins her around in the air, two full circles (while carefully stepping so as not to bang into anything).

By the time he's set her down again, it's against a wall. He presses against her, one hand remaining on her hip, the other against the wall, as he kisses her. It certainly isn't a simple thing either, heated and insistent. If it wasn't for her unnatural strength, there would be no room to break it off or squirm away.

How wonderful! To feel weightless. And so important, even precious. It's a little intoxicating, and slipping out from girlish glee into the well-fitted glove of a Beast is no trouble at all. Natural as eating. Paloma is welcoming of Hyde as much as he's caught her unawares.

Truly unawares. Who says this couldn't be another rash impulse from Henry? Why shouldn't he be allowed, greeted and provoked? Paloma's missed it. Missed him.

Someone's got to breathe eventually and it won't be her, but after a heavily disheveled minute of too many hands to keep track of -- her cheek turns, dodging any kisses with her mouth puffy and bruised. "Really, I meant only the waltz! This is not why I came!"

"Did you? You came to my house in the dead of night, with your neckline like that, and that isn't at all the reason you're here?" He kisses her neck, then her ear, the hand on her waist moves up to said neckline, over her breasts. "It's been so long since we were together. I want you."

God damn you, Samantha, she knew the collar was overdoing it!! Now look!!

What Hyde may not know is that their appetites at present do not align. He wants to get her dress off, reasonable enough for a randy bastard. But Paloma is exercising a lot in the way of restraint to keep from feeding. She hasn't used the blood magic to divert the Beast's hunger.

Still, she does like kissing for kissing's sake. It doesn't save him from the dainty hand like wrought iron gripping beneath his jaw in instinctive threat. She stares at their chests, bewildered.

"You know I cannot walk when there is sun! A-and my friend gives bad advice! And you are not yourself!!"

"Oh, you asked advice, even? That does sound like you had ulterior motives. I bet that fake husband didn't even fuck you, what a waste."

What she doesn't know is that he would welcome her feeding just as readily. Or how much more exciting that threat is. And yet at the same time, "If you even think of harming me, I'll throw you into that fire. You'd better make sure you kill me in one blow if you do anything at all!

"Ah, and I'm perfectly myself, I'll have you know. One hundred percent."

She falls beyond confusion and into a chasm of pain, blood surging in chills and crackling out in a wave that starts at her huge, huge eyes. Paloma can't feel her hands, and drops them from him to hang doll-like at her sides.

His eyes. They've gone that ugly red, monstrous in a face too hideous and beautiful to take. Even recognizing them, his poison drips through her ears, corroding at the little confidences she'd tried to build. There's the fire, the fire, but Carlos, how could he--

"He had me when he killed me and never again. And he is gone, so do not talk of him!"

"That's why it's a waste! So come on, here I am, you fantasise, don't you! About us, about that night in the tavern!" And he laughs, too. Her hands dropping from him - did he strike at something tender? "Did you think it was still Jekyll? Well, I suppose you have seen that side of the good doctor."

The worst part is that none of it is lies.

She can't accuse him of cruel dishonesty, although the 'cruel' bit can be argued; Paloma stares at him in silent agony with her eyes welling up, in true waif form. None of the fight seems to be left in her.

They know how appearances can deceive, however. "Yes. I thought you were Harry. I danced with him, not you."

Edited 2016-01-03 08:33 (UTC)

"That's right. And now you can dance with me." You know, the horizontal tango. "But it's all the same, there's no 'him', only 'I'. Allow me to show you what my other half truly thinks and wants. How I dream of your body still. Thought of sneaking off to fuck you against a wall in some hallway at that party. It's all very licentious." Naturally he accents it by pressing their bodies closer.

'Licentious' is a word she's encountered less in her linguistic development, but it's far from a mystery with their hips pushed together.

Paloma turns her face from him, not wanting to look anymore, albeit having gone beyond revulsion. He's being ugly. "Do you believe that is evil? It is not. I found evil and I let him in."

Should he move to see, her pupils have gone grotesquely large.

"You are such a bad man."

Cheating on Jekyll with his best friend's goat sorry.

Slut

Learn to satisfy like a goat

Satyrfucker

What's it feel like to be cuckolded by one eh

Pretty shitty...

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