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+--- Thread: Sunspire Mountains all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach (/showthread.php?tid=42644)
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all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 18, 2020
set before this bc unsure of outcome, but also fwd dated to morning of 20th. what's time? who cares
he'd trod on her heels after she'd parted the glade, trailing after her like a courser hot on its quarry through the sylvan highveld; this she knew by the saurian gaze that met her occasional glances from the droves of trees between them.
just the same she ghosted midst the late night darkness, light of foot and mind whetted as a rapier half-sheathed in its gilded scabbard. her self-annointed squire would need to keep the pace if he intended on attending her labyrinthian route, but after a time she only heard the tree boughs creak and pop and leaves sigh, then silence once again. the sound of his lope over leaf-litter no longer fetched her ears and vexation up.
when she turned her head, esmé was regarded with no crocodilian stare. riley must have found her journey too tedious and drudging and headed off on his own detour.
apathetic to the boy's free will, she gave the darkness behind her a one last flinty look before turning to press ahead on her northwesterly ascent up the mountain opposite its cold, louring range.
as darkness began to bow out of dawn's dusty mauve light, the woman sought respite in a small limestone cave clad in jade lichens and climbing overgrowth.
cautiously, she searched through both entrances of the lair. the wan scent of boar filled her nostrils, but it was clear the cave had not seen a visitor in many moons. satisfied, esmé settled into the hideaway's black gut and coiled up into a ball, tucking her nose into the brush of her tail but keeping her ears open to heed any rumours of unwanted passers-by.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 19, 2020
esme had easily shrugged off riley's pursuits, much in the manner a frog might easily slip into the murky downstream and lose its intrepid stalker: riley was no hunter, and soon after esme's scent had faded, he realized he was no tracker either.
so he had come to find the saints, and they had welcomed him and filled his belly. and much like a dog well-fed, riley suddenly found the hearth stifling and the road inviting, and was on his way again, picking up the trail where he had left off.
it was purely happenstance (or coincidence - both of which should always be distrusted) that riley limped came across esme's scent again, this time fresh. enough days had passed that he forgot the sting he felt to be so easily abandoned - and this time he approached what looked like a hardened limestone cave, his eyes and ears set on alert. after all, he was terribly injured, and not in a good state for endurance or defending himself.
he did not think to investigate the dark mouth first - for esme's scent rounded the earthy mound and seemingly led away. riley kept his nose to the ground, snuffing like a boar might for truffles -- all the while, unaware she likely watched him from her limestone crypt.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 19, 2020
her nose sussed him before her ears had the chance and she stirred from her light slumber to the scent of coagulated blood looming near the black as pitch lair. a snorting, grunting noise of something rooting in the soil soon accompanied the smell, and briefly she thought ah. perfect—doubtless the razorbacks had returned, and while one wore the cruor of the injured, taking on a wild boar was a troubling task for a wolf², and being cornered in the cave with a potentially furious one just outside had put her in problematic fettle, in pretty much every possible aspect.
physically? damn she was in a tight spot. she could burst out with the advantage of surprise, bob and weave, and avoid being reamed on its tusks with some fancy footwork as she sought to r-u-n-n-o-f-t.
mentally? she was wildly unimpressed with the notion of being done in by a pig. insulted, really. she had something far more pitiable and shakespearian in mind for when her time to go to glory came. something lady macbeth-esque if she had anything to say about it.
alas, before she could map out her escape route, the form of a wolf barged past the threshold of the grotto. quiet as a fart on the battlefront she heaved herself upright, and immediately rang her bell, hitting her crown on the low ceiling in her agitation, "for love of—" she gritted her teeth. he passed again. and again. dude making crop-circles out there?
she was not a pair of exhumed eyes watching him from her limestone crypt. esmé was too busy waiting for her double-vision to coalesce and the throb on her pate to dissipate as the wolf outside made its redundant survey of the area.
she huffed with impatience, petulantly grabbed herself by the panniers and stormed from under the arch of darkness, squinting from the onslaught of sunlight, immediately starting to rant. "hellooo! would it trouble you to FUCK OFF, monsieur?" she didn't recognize riley, on account of all his injuries and the faint scent of a pack on his coat. also, he presumably hadn't met her gaze yet so she couldn't identify him by the fact that one of his eyes was going into the shop while the other was coming out with the change.
even if she did clock him immediately, esmé being esmé probably wouldn't have amended herself.
she looked the male up and down. he looked scourged, but didn't seem to mind. a mirthless smile got comfortable on her lips. "are you the one who wrestled the boar out of this here cave? i give you my humble thanks," she said.
he'd gotten his shit pushed in, that was for sure.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 20, 2020
Boar Riley was not, though he might be as boorish as one (hah, get it?). While he was sussing out her scent, Esme might be able to slip off like Pete's ever-lovin' Cora, if she was quick and discreet. Which, we knew she was, given she was slippery as Everet McGill at a constituent's rally.
Riley didn't even notice the scent of boar. He was so transfixed on Esmé's scent he didn't even hear her rise either. It wasn't until she spoke, that Riley turned with the startled aura of a cat; having heard first the bashing of Esme's brain, the subtle underbreath exclamation, and then the very-not-subtle bellow of her casting voice. It hit him like a tornado, and he winced as he bent down, feeling pain shoot up his leg -- a reminder of the unkind scuffle he had been in not a day prior.
Luckily, Riley was not one to take the greeting sourly - by the time he had processed that he had been invited to fuck off, he was trying to grapple the next reality: it was Esmé that had spoken to him. Was he the one -- wait, what boar? His face slackened off, like he'd hit his own head in the process. There were boar here?
If he was smart, he would have said yes - anything to win the favor of his lady.. Riley was anything but, and missed the opportunity like Sheriff Cooley missed the Soggy Bottom Boys at every turn.. "Esmé!" He exclaimed in response, not even bothering to answer her question. He was in a sorry state, but did his best to puff out his chest and hide the serious gashes along his flank and hip. "I thought I lost you."
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 21, 2020
ｗｅ ｔｈｏｔ ｕ ｗａｓ ａ ｔｏａｄ
he rended the air with her name and her eyes screwed up at him. the springtide lilted voice informed her of his tender age, and thus, identity. ahhhhh. this guy. her shoulders lifted in a huffish sigh, the hackles stiffened on her withers smoothing out just so.
esmé wasn't sure which eye to look at when she greeted the sleuthhound in turn, so she focused on a spiral of fur between his eyes instead. "boy," the woman never insisted on savvying the kid's name, almost entirely because climate change had caused a poor harvest from her "fucks to give" farm., but also because it kept her out of his clearly unsavoury affairs.
in fact, she was already starting to feel like the curator of his welfare and there was no way in hell that was happening.
sitting back onto her haunches, glacial gaze did a proper appraisal of his condition. it'd been after dark last time they'd mingled, so she had no reference for the true color of his coat. had it always been rufous, swathed in crusted cinnabar? had he'd bore those weeping lacerations on his thigh? she gleaned from the way he favored certain limbs that he'd intersected on some flashpoint between his disappearing act and the present moment.
she didn't even know the half of it.
how could one wolf get himself into such sturm and drang in such a short period of time? "you sure did, chief." she reminded him baldly. clearly. she wasn't the one with open gouges on her person. her lids drew like heavy curtains as she tonelessly stated, "and thank the heavens you found me now before the brigands could snatch me away. a damsel such as myself? low-hanging fruit, i tell you." the sarcasm was becoming septic, but she had a feeling riley would take her figmental commentaries as the gospel truth.
anyway, if he was lucky, the teeth that'd profaned his flesh had missed any major arteries. esmé surmised—remissly—that if one was not presently exsanguinating on the ground, they were probably cleared for takeoff. "i'd uh, maybe rub some dirt on those or something." she remarked, glancing her gaze off his injuries with a "yikes on trikes" gurn of her gums.
doubtless, she was no healer and figured his wounds would become infected sooner or later. "pest control" was the extent of her usefulness these days, so she needed him to spill the tea now, before he potentially found himself in extremis. "tell me precisely what happened between the time between when you 'lost me' and right now." she demanded, tail curling around her hind-legs and the tip flicking. "and don't be stingy with the gory details. they're my favourite part."
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 21, 2020
Par for the course, most of Esmé's smarcasm flew right over his head. A bit naively, he assumed her tongue-in-cheek reply was fully factual; that there might be bandersnatches and goblins about, waiting to yoink her to some netherealm. Even if he was to the type to put a word in edgewise, Esmé's candid sweep of his condition, followed by her voice, stayed any response the boy might have.
Dirt in... what?
His ears flicked back as he tried to make sense of her comment, looking first on his unwounded flank, and then, to the side that had been dug into like the corner of a couch by a cat: the viscera was startling and ribbed in subcutaneous white; Riley flinched at the sight and then looked haplessly back to Esmé.
Recounting a story in great detail was not a life-skill Riley had. His gaze flickered unevenly as he tried to turn his mind backwards, to delve into the swampy, foggy area of his memory-core. It was mostly just emptiness there.
"I was walking along this red scar, and this man found me. I've seen him before. He asked me to fight once and I said no. He calls me Peaches." Riley didn't realize this was not exactly riveting information, and continued. "He showed me where the food is. Then another man told me to check out a waterway that was east of the red sands. So I checked it out, but then I thought I scented you. So I followed it. I was at this place with the soggy trees resting and I got attacked by some wolves there. Then I was running and found you."
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 21, 2020
"he calls me peaches"
if esmé's brows could lift far enough to touch her ears, they would have the instant riley divulged this piece of information. she opened her mouth to interrupt, but clapped it shut. for once, waiting for the inside-joke to be exposed.
there wasn't any. how very vexing.
she particularly loathed men who coquetted with the young; they were the pustules on society's back, and she wanted to personally lance every-one of them.
he pressed on and she tried to follow the maze of A Day in The Life of Riley but the boy inevitably ran ahead of her, leading her around corners that were for all practical purposes dead-ends. "then i thought i scented you. so i followed it. i was at this place with the soggy trees resting," her eyes narrowed. his nose must have been like one of the furbies your aunt (no? just mine? ok) kept in the kitchen that randomly turned off and on, because she had never passed any "soggy trees". the fuck was a soggy tree? a moldered log?
alas, she reluctantly let him run his mouth to the end of its chain without interrupting because she was concerned he might actually forget the rest of it and she was curious about who'd laced into him.
just some wolves? huh. to her dispapointment, he was stingy with the gory details, and by the end of his tale, esmé was left with an expression that only this gif can convey.
"sounds like you've been busy." she finally said, puffing her cheeks out, not really knowing where to start with this one. there was a lot to muck through, and while riley himself could casually collapse through a blackhole and she wouldn't think twice about it, sis was nosy and his recent exploits had bussed her to a place of indelible curiosity.
"this guy, the one who calls you ... peaches," she squinted one eye. man calls a boy barely out of adolescence peaches? nop. didn't sit right with her. unfortunately, she had no idea where "red scar" or "red sands" were, and she didn't want his disarrayed curriculum on geography. "tell me more about your time with him, hmm? he gave you food? was the other man with him, or was that a separate encounter?"
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 21, 2020
Funny thing is, Riley missed (shocker) Tiercel's look of disgruntlement following his speech. As he stepped back from talking, he took a big breath of air -- as if he had just delivered a rousing speech and was now graciously fielding accolades.
Except, he'd not given Esme many breadcrumbs to follow his journey by.
His brow furrowed as she became more interested in the man than the wolves that had attacked him. Why? Was she into older men? Would Donovan be a threat to his budding interest in Esme? He shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to think too long about what might occur if the two ever met. "I don't know him very well. He asked me to fight once after I met you." Riley repeated, puffing his cheeks resignedly. He did not want Esme to meet Donovan. "He doesn't bother me. No, that man was at the cache when I was eating. Separate encounter. I haven't seen them since." Riley blinked slowly following the trail end of his words, thinking he had just about exhausted his gab-bag for the night. "Why did you leave me, Esme?"
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 21, 2020
if she had even an inkling that his hormonal body was fumbling with a lighter to ignite the torch he was starting to carry for her, esmé would have snatched it out of his hands and used it to clobber some sense into him. what a pity for the both of them if that flame ever caught. he was going to get his feelings hurt and she would be a sieve to any contrite emotion.
the kicked-puppy question punctuating his reply to her moot aroused some confusion. why had she left him at the glade? she'd told him several times she was leaving. it wasn't like she said she was going to the gas station to get cigarettes. for that reason alone, she had to cover a swathe of possible instances he would tab as "abandonment" in his binder. "in the glade? i didn't leave you. i left. why did i leave you behind once you started following me? i didn't, you just disappeared. what do you take me for anyway? your keeper? i'm not." she rolled her eyes with exasperation; what erroneous act had she done to deserve such ligature?
oh yeah. that one erroneous act. she would argue she had done right by herself, but homicide was homicide in the unfair bullshit court of whatever deity sentenced her to riley. sisyphus got off easy with his gods.
"otherwise i haven't the damndest idea what you mean. anyway, back to this man," she steered them away from his brickly sensibilities/mental logjam and pried some more about this vulgarian he'd taken up with. he ate from their cache, and rootless nomads like herself didn't have any practical use for caches. it didn't bode well, in her opinion. "no, mmm. i mean, were they together? running together? were there more of them?" esmé haplessly pelted him with questions. "so one of the men sends you ... on an errand? what was at the waterway? what did you and this other man speak about?"
because if one of those wolves had sent riley on an errand, and riley didn't return from that errand, they might be looking for him, find success, and possibly by proxy, find her. that was a fortissimo fuck no from her. while she didn't fear them, she preferred a bucolic lifestyle these days, and only the occasional murder. #justgirlythings
anything that interfered with her designs also interfered with her patience, and this man was already getting her wick without even meeting him. "what was his name? the one who calls you 'peaches'," she shuddered with irritation, the tip of her tail lashing like mad.
she hadn't forgotten about the SoGgY TrEes or the commencement of hostilities that had taken place there, but that was a riley problem for another minute. the populace of the area's pestiferous underbelly were of more importance to her presently.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 22, 2020
As to be expected, Esmè's explanation didn't smooth over any of the wrinkles that found permanent residence on Riley's brow. He wanted to interject, to protest he had been left, but his tongue was heavy as tire irons, and Esmè quickly guided the conversation back to its previous tracks.
So many questions.
It's a pack. They're a pack. I don't know what was behind the waterway, I got distracted.Riley's tone was defeated as he admitted he couldn't do anything right.
We didn't really talk about anything!He was beginning to get overwhelmed by the ten thousand inquiries, and felt a cold sweat crawl under his skin.
I don't know his name!He was two seconds from a toddler meltdown.
I don't -- Donovan? I don't know. I don't care! Why do you care so much anyway?His eyes flashed and a sulkiness entered his tone.
You're just going to leave me again anyway.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 22, 2020
getting him a little flustered wasn't her intention, but she didn't hate it, because it yielded at least one result: the man was perhaps named donovan, and if she could name a sleazebag, she could kick a sleazebag in his sleazeballs when he approached her.
tiercel didn't appear to notice or care that riley was under critical stress as she blasely watched him unravel, waiting for the kid to compose himself under her hard, hooded stare. "you haven't invested me enough to care," she said dispassionately. all she could pry out of the boy was that donovan bequeathed on him a pervy, gross pet name, and if he couldn't give her more than that, then it was none of her concern.
"i do find it doubtful a pack would allow you to use up their resources no questions asked. so i'd consider going back to your new pack and healing those injuries. or don't, and save yourself the molestation. doesn't matter one way or the other to me, i just don't want to be tangled up with you when they come looking for their peaches." she smiled thinly, almost sympathetically, but it was gone like water droplets in a hot pan.
"yep." she confirmed his sulky qualm; no use in lying to him about it. "i have no interest this pack of yours, and you're a boy almost a grown man. you're responsible for yourself." esmé rose to her feet and took a step back towards the boar's lair, then remembered one detail she'd all but forgotten and paused midstep to wonder aloud, "last question. what'd you do to get targeted by those soggy tree wolves?" with wry amusement edging her lips and voice.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 23, 2020
Riley couldn't withstand the rapid hits of Esme's response, and so like a creature pelted by a sudden storm, simply hunched his shoulders and waited for the barrage to pass.
Eventually the clouds lifted, though his expression was none too sunny as Esme denounced his interest and fanned past without even flinching. He assumed there was not much he could say to change her mind, not that he was capable of that anyway -- and he would have remained silent furthermore, had she not asked a final, direct question.
Riley's aspect was still flustered, though now he took on a rather cold edge -- for he felt the wolves in that marsh had done him a great injustice.
I was resting at a tree. This wolf came up to me and claimed there was a pack there, but I didn't smell nothing.Riley's tone remained sulky despite a flash of unusual mirth in his typically flat eyes.
So I pissed on her tree.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 25, 2020
she was perceptive to the nuances of emotion that washed over her dim shadow, the coldness that gripped him. esmé braced up with sudden intrigue. a little touchy about this subject, she noted. the woman listened to his recounting of the waylay upon him, feigning expressions of deep sympathy that she did not feel when appropriate, and as his ophidian eyes related some impishness, she belled cavity-sweet laughter in like manner.
bah. she'd grown bored of the lack of chaos lately, anyway.
"oh you did, did you? right on the tree? impressive," she said with a gasp, sashaying towards him with the very deliberate mincing of her slender legs. "and then they so crudely attacked you! how humiliating ..." she cooed, making a moue and brushing lightly against his shoulder to sit beside him. lowered her voice a bit, "that would make me so ... mad! i'd want to do it again just to spite them," she glanced sidelong, heaving an affected huff whilst quietly eying him. "it's just so, mmm, unrighteous. don't you think?" esmé suggested as her tail moved to gently sweep against his leg.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 25, 2020
Riley's gaze lifted in surprise, his ears catching the unexpectedly sweet peal of laughter.
From her -- from Esme?
A flutter of encouragement drummed in his heart, chasing the drudges of dejection and his own pitiful state away. He had made her laugh -- and that counted for something.
He would do it again, he was exactly that kind of stupid. All it took was for Esme to say it, and he'd do it - impressionable git that he was. He jolted as he felt her tail fan his hip -- another surprising (but not unwelcome) gesture that suddenly had him greedy for more -- more validation, more security -- no more of the running away and leaving him behind..
He stiffly sat upright, his sullen gaze falling on Esme with curiosity. Unrighteous indeed. He wouldn't mind giving them a taste or two of their own medicine. "Do you mean, now?"
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 26, 2020
icky phone post sry
she could sense the static cling between them and she sidled closer, stirring the tip of her tail in sinuous motions against his hip. she made a thoughtful noise in her throat with a sighing breath. "i would go now, if it were me. later i may lose interest." she demurely peeled herself away, listing towards the grotto ...
"but oh, that's just me. you probably wouldn't, not after your trauma ..." she raised her sheep eyes to meet his gaze as her tail furled back to her hock; a cookie snatched from his lips, her fingers fidgeting indecisively with the lid to the jar.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 26, 2020
i apologize in advance for rileys narrative here lol
It would have been easy to manipulate Riley without sensory input -- but the tail..
His skin twitched reflexively, an electrical excitement buzzing its way down his spine.
Riley held his breath as the she-wolf slid closer, already having him wrapped around her forepaws without even breaking out the real charm. He glanced guiltily back where he had come, dreading the hike but refusing to be anything but stoic in the face of Esme.
He would do it. He would do it, because Esme told him to. And he would do it, because he wanted to. Because fuck them! Fuck them for acting like they owned the whole goddamn globe. All he had wanted to do was rest his sore feet and they had instantly been aggressive. It wasn't his fault they sucked at marking things!
"I'll do it." Riley responded, shifting stiffly to his feet. He was not about to let himself appear weak to Esme (oh, he was weak alright -- weak in brain cell number count). He would do his best to disguise his discomfort, if it meant impressing Esme.
Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get a little brand of vengeance in while he was there. Leave more than just a pissmark for them to remember him by.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 26, 2020
you mean character development
she gasped bogusly when he rose to his feet like a fallen soldier finding his feet after an ostensible defeat, spinning her body away from the double-mouthed chamber and campily shimmying her ruff. "i knew you weren't craven," and flouncing to his side, "say ... w-would you mind if i joined you? i want to watch you do it ... it would make me so delighted," she breathed.
esmé already knew she was most assuredly invited, but she was so in character she was just basting in her own artifice at this point.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 27, 2020
Riley had no words for the backflip his stomach did as Tiercel brushed past and then besides him. He caught none of the guile in the way she gasped, or the almost-campy manner in which she flounced to his side and put forth the idea she would accompany him.
He was simply the marionette, and she the controller -- all it would take for Riley to do anything at Tiercel's behest, was for her to simply state she wished it done.
It was a very real possibility this arrangement might get him killed. To Riley, it was no matter, for he did not think of it -- all he thought about, was that if he was good and did what she wished, that maybe she might praise him again, or give him the validation he so desperately needed.
He slid his gaze to her in wonder, unable to hide that the prospect of her company was truly what fueled him forth.
Okay.The boy replied oh-so-fluently, beginning to limp forward -- back to the trail where his blood demarked his exodus from the willows.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 28, 2020
she met his wonderous gaze inscrutably, "lead the way." esmé said while flashing a shyster's smile.
riley's injuries were grievous, thickflowing from the garlands cut into his flesh. she wondered to herself whose fangs had befouled the boy first— he was green as grass; improbable agent provocateur. there was no motive.
as she convoyed the vulnerable boy on his yellow brick road wrought sanguineous, she was conscious of the malignance of sociableness metastasizing in her mind. something she couldn't presently reconcile with the drouth of empathy that resisted every talebearer's hardship.
irritated with her own head, she loped up next to him and ever-so-slightly bore up some of his weight, staring blankly ahead as her own ruddled body supported the appendage he favoured most. "if that man—donovan, the one who calls you peaches, ever makes you do something you don't want to do, i'll be picking shards of his larynx from between my teeth." she said, with the threat bidding fair from the contemplative tone of her voice.
her pyrefire eyes remained fixed ahead, lips pulled in a taut line.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - July 28, 2020
Lead the way.
That smile. Riley would do almost anything, to see that smile at him again. It was the way he wished his mother smiled at him, or his aunt. The way he wished Valette looked at him, or Derg -- just that little slip of emotion behind an otherwise unreadable face, that said you're doing okay, this is good.
He never got validation like that -- and maybe in the short of it, that was why he had fallen in step behind Donovan. Donovan, who hummed softly and smiled wickedly -- Donovan, the enormous, towering figure whose presence might just be big enough to fill that bastardized mother sized hole in his heart..
He jumped when he felt Esme's body come into contact with him. At first, he walked with a stilted limp, too overwhelmed in sensory overload, too afraid to do anything that might have her body pulled from his. He wanted the walk to last forever, as asinine as that was - because then, she would never leave him either.
The darkness of Esme's threat did not go unheard. Those words circled around Riley's head like smoke around a fire. A thick nod was given in response, but Riley could not bring himself to speak. He braved a glance at Esme and saw her -- amazonian countenance, chin set with a firm jaw-line -- and it was then he understood why Colin worshipped a woman, and why when that woman left him all sunlight had been stolen from his life.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - July 30, 2020
well thank heavens he didn't ejacluate when she touched him, then, and pray he didn't have some sort of disfigured oedipus complex fermenting with his puberty.
she didn't pull away when he jumped, but she hid a tiny, self-gratifying smirk. wielding power over men was her leisure, but maybe fortunately for riley, she still just saw him as a boy, and the fact that her shit-stirring behavior happened to coincide with his new hobby of pissing off strangers was just a favorable circumstance.
her eyes perused forward as she felt his glance canvass the finer details of her face, lids reducing to slits. "so," she couched in a 'i can't stand the silence any longer' huff of breath, "red scar, red sands. i'm no expert, but that sounds like wastelands. unconventional place for a wolf to live, much less thrive," esmé remarked, turning a skeptical eye to the yearling: aka you're soon to be a feast for the crows, but that's none of my business.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - August 02, 2020
He might have come close, a few times.
Maybe.
He kept his excitement at bay, though he never once forgot that she was willingly pressing herself against him. He limped as he walked, but it didn't matter -- Riley felt like he was a thousand feet above air, having Esme's skin setting rippling fire to his own.
He slowed as Esme's gaze narrowed, feeling fearful -- had he said something wrong? Was this moment ending? He half expected ridicule, and instead got a comment that was obviously pointed, but not obviously enough for the one brain-cell knocking around in his brain-pan.
"It's pretty there." Riley admitted freely -- it had exactly nothing to do with her point, but he didn't grasp that. "There's a river that goes through it." He wished he could explain how glorious the sight was -- of a meadow of scarlet sand, with a ribbon of reflective, brilliant blue cutting through -- how it looked like a fiery wasteland come sunset, how he could stare for hours..
He was no poet. Esme would never know. "Where do you live?" He suddenly asked, wondering in the next breath if he could edge in the suggestion they live together. Smirk.
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - August 05, 2020
he was simping and trying to sell her a timeshare, now? she could admit when things were her fault, and her cursory comment had apparently planted some kernel of hope in riley. she listened with the politeness of a fellow waiting room therapy patient flipping through a parenting magazine as he painted her a modest mural of badlands with an arroyo stocked with its seasonal fill. she wouldn't be surprised if his entire pack was washed away in a flash flood, which did seat an amused curl of her lip.
"forsooth? a river, really? wow," she said, not bothering to hide the lack of merit this information had on her life. a river, no matter how pretty it was purported to be, was not impressive and certainly not going to sway her favor.
nope, she would never know. beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and she would never behold whatever beauty his eyes opined.
they continued to walk side-by-side. esme tried to master patience as he slowly led them towards these rumoured soggy trees, in silence, until boredom started plowing the fields of her brain cells and she was ruminating foul play. as fantasies were conceived, he suddenly asked: "where do you live?"
esme surfaced from her musing and twisted her lips, casting riley a look that related "what are you playing at?" surely he knew the answer, that she was a rootless woman at a loose end, but content enough with her circumstances. he ought to have fathomed that out, at the least. maybe she was giving him too much credit in regards to intellect.
"wherever my head falls for the night," she said shortly, breaking contact with him to move further ahead with a cursive furl of her tail to punctuate her lithesome strut. "any further questions, your honor?" she called over her shoulder, stretching the tension from her legs as she waited for riley to rejoin her. "i have one: where's the soggy trees?"
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Riley - August 05, 2020
Riley missed the sarcasm and transparent lack of awe in Esme's voice, instead taking her response at face value. He nodded like a regular Lenny, eyes traveling ahead. Just as he was about to explain the merits of this river Esme strode off.
He realized being without support and her touch was a terrible thing. Sadness, and a bit of pining jealousy, lingered in his gaze as he watched her strut away, her tail stirring in the air with an attractive saunter.
He pined for the feeling of her against him again. It tightened the looseness of his tongue. It locked his jaw. It caused him to look boorish and distracted, up until Esme spoke again. Another missed sarcasm shot flew over his head like a poorly aimed arrow; he only recognized she had asked a second question and by the look on her face expected prompt answer.
Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other Riley gestured petulantly rowards the thinning line of trees.
About an hour that way, give or take.
It was then he remembered why he asked her where she lived in the first place. Naively and without an ounce of shame or trepidation Riley focused his uneven gaze on Esme and asked -
Can we live together?
RE: all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach - Tiercel - August 08, 2020
tightened the looseness of his tongue, or tightened the looseness of his belt? she may have had the charisma of a jezebel (being captain of a ship called the male gaze) but she didn't have intentions to cradle-rob; on her oath, she wasn't gonna pop this kid's cherry. she could feel his eyes linger after her, leaving him with stirrings wrought-up by her prancing about, and it was the immediate vibe of feeling like a succubus that did it in for her.
riley managed to dignify himself when she looked back sure he'd heard and planned on answering her question, eyes coursing his gesture through the spinney. esmé whipped to face him and stomped her foot just as petulantly as he had when he'd gestured—"an hour? outstanding. who needs sleep?" she should have asked how far away it was before she'd a) manifested the idea in his brainpan and b) implored to join him just for a chuckle at his expense. fuck. now she'd have to make it worthwhile. she wasn't going to spend hours trooping up and down mountains for devil of it.
when riley didn't hurry to join her as she expected, esmé eyed him leerily, then impatiently huffed: "i'm just—"
"can we live together?"
she stared dumbly at him for a while, blinking somnolently with insane-question-induced narcosis. "mm run that by me one more time?" she bid, staring like so at the resolve on his face. "oh god, you're serious," she set her jaw and glanced sideways, put utterly out of countenance. "you have a home, if i recall, and i do recall." she needed to sit down, "uuuum ... it's not you, it's me?
actually, it's a bit of both of us. one more than the other, really," she tacked on without elaborating on the last bit, shrugging dismissively, "anyway," she smiled, "no. sorry." her apology made tersely, she hoped they could trudge on without any moping on his part, but she harboured suspicion with a sigh that this was not the end of it.
he lived with the saints and she was scroundel. they were diametrically opposed.