Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 2, 2019 21:54:45 GMT
"Forearms?!" Citrine exclaimed from her equally lazing about position within Thea's living room. "What 'ave ye been drinkin'?" Whereas Thea took over the space on the floor Citrine was draped like an animal run across the side of the armchair. Legs bent over one armrest, she wasn't tall enough in the torso to have her head hit the other armrest, and wings spread to lay out anywhere they could stretch to. Her wing tip might have been in the fireplace even (which she'd finally lit about 4 shots in) but the flame just wrapped around the golden red feathers without issue.
But then Thea expanded, and commented on the forearms being on the man. "Oh, alright, fine, fer ah man Aye give ye tha' one." She was staring at the ceiling, the bottle of whiskey floating around her, bobbing like a fishing lure, in the air around her. Even drunk the phoenix used her mage had as a true third hand. "But on ah woman? Teh dip o' teh back, where teh spine follows - nae tha's nice. Men just dan't pull et off as well."
Her mage hand tilted, sending a stream of booze from the air to her mouth, who needed a shotglass at this point? Not her! "Specially ef teh 'ave tattoos. Aye'm ah fan fer ink." She shared, the information probably no surprise coming from the heavily inked woman.
Her head turned now, to see Thea looking her way. Her vision swam a bit as her head moved, but it righted itself quick enough. She'd only had about two thirds of the bottle, minus the shot or two Thea'd had. She was toast, not burnt.
"How ye feelin' Lass?" She asked, the grin on her face turning to a laugh at seeing the genasi clearly toasted as well.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 2, 2019 22:27:20 GMT
Thea blushed a little more, looking back at the fireplace. “I can imagine,” she said, drowsily, flopping down to the floor and propped her cheek on flat hands, snuggling in to the carpet. “I feel good!” She smiled up at Citrine. “Very… floaty.” The genasi shifted, wriggling into the carpet. “I don’t have any tattoos,” she told Citrine, as if it might be a surprise to her. “But I have – well – Dom always said it looked like a tattoo,” Thea blinked.
“I’ll show you!” Thea announced, suddenly full of energy, hopping to her feet, stumbling once and – thankfully – catching herself without pitching into the fire. She looked down at herself, face wrinkling into a frown to match her tunic. “Wait here,” she told Citrine, sternly, with a firm nod.
Thea dashed across the room, disappearing behind the little screen next to her dresser. She changed, quickly, stripping off the tunic and tights and folding them to put in her laundry basket – even drunk, Thea maintained a certain neatness – and pulled on her blue robe. It was a clinging fabric, but not in the least transparent, and fell to the floor. Thea returned, stumbling slightly over the hem, and clutching the robe closed.
“Okay – it’s not weird – “ Thea told Citrine, seriously. She took her position back on the carpet, carefully adjusting the robe off her shoulders, the back lowering, keeping her hands clutched together at the front to preserve as much modesty as possible. Her upper back emerged slowly, complete with the massive branching scar that started between her shoulder blades and branched down and across her back, disappearing into the robe. Dom had been right, about this if little else; it did almost look like a tattoo.
“It’s from the shipwreck,” Thea explained, a little note of sadness creeping into her drunk voice. After a few moments, she shrugged the robe back up and cinched it tightly around her waist, flopping onto the ground with her back against the chair.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 2, 2019 23:02:55 GMT
Watching Thea bound away… Citrine wasn't sure Thea knew she was even walking just a few inches above the floor, her statement of being floaty quite apt, the phoenix followed her with her eyes, grinning a drunken flirty cocky grin. "Oi, Lass, nae need tae keep ah screen between us." She teased, tempted to pop over just to spook her (the waxy smell starting to grow in the room) but relented at the firm 'wait here'. Properly chastised the pirate trilled her disappointment and resignation.
"Alright, alright, nae need tae get ye panties en ah twist." She drawled, stretching in the chair and taking up as much space as she possibly could. And when she came out in just a robe and a curt statement that is wasn't weird? Citrine couldn't keep a straight face, her rambling thoughts impossible to keep quiet due to how much she'd drank already. "Ah Lass sitting by teh fire en just ah robe. Revealing 'er shoulders an' back, Just fer me?" She was relentless in her teasing, coy accent dripping with innuendo and suggestion. As relentless as she had been when drawing anger out of the storm sorceress. "Naethin weird abou' et."
"OooooOO." She trilled her curious and intrigued little bird song, an Aarokacoan complement. In a silent pop she misty stepped from her spot on the chair and appeared right behind Thea, for once somehow managing to keep her hands to herself and not touching. It had been the comment of the shipwreck. No doubt the shipwreck, that kept her from stepping over boundaries and skimming a finger over the design.
"Et's beautiful." She trilled, arms closing around Thea's neck and upper chest near the collarbone - Citrine being the 'chair' Thea thought she was flopping against. Looking down, Thea's head in her lap, Citrine drunkenly kept her thumb skimming Thea's collarbone.
"Really, et es. Looks just like a storm field o' lightenin'." But Thea was clearly not of the same thought of it being a stunning 'natural' tattoo. "Et shows what ye went through, an survived! Et's part of ye, no matter what. Nae need tae look at en an' think ugly thoughts about et…. Here, 'ere! Aye dan't wan'ta make ye feel all off an' weird about et! Aye've a nature themed scar tae!" She chirped, just as gun-ho about the idea of showing it off as Thea had been. Must have been the alcohol.
Helping Thea sit up and turned around, mage hand helping Thea stay as annoyingly modest as she wanted to be -Citrine, as boundary crossing as she was, still had some morals and values- so that she could sit cross legged mirroring her.
"Nae, whatcha think?" She questioned as a talon like fingernail tugged and pulled on her chest wrap so only half her chest was actually still covered. A perfectly symmetric snowflake, right over where her heart was, so rising to follow the curving swell of her left breast and the area around it, glistened like quicksilver. The scar tissue was a few shades too white to truly be a natural scar.
"Each line ye see? Tha' crosses teh center point? Tha' was a death Aye experienced. Murder, really, ef ye want tae be accurate about et." There were a lot of lines. "There's 259 lines total, rangin' en size. An' 69 lil' decorative symetry lines tae mark the tips o' each o' teh snowflake's spokes - those were all death tha' happened when Aye thought they were real, but were only illusions." Citrine was just as drunkenly upbeat as before, showing no signs the topic bothered her. But her wing scents muted a bit, and a hint of spearmint threaded through the room.
"Ye can blame an arch fey named Lady Maeve." She hummed at the scar, and traced a line or two. "Aye knew somethin' she wanted tae knae… an' well…. Aye was ah right stubborn arse about et. Until she showed me what me stubbornesss was really worth, kept killin an reincarnatin' me back tae life o'er an' a'er again."
((No joke, word count atm is 11.950 exactly, Aww yeah even 50x count))
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 2, 2019 23:53:44 GMT
Thea realized far too late that the chair could more accurately described as Citrine’s lap – and by then it was far too late. She nestled into the other girl, accepting it, and sighed as Citrine’s thumb skimmed over her collarbone.
“If you say so,” Thea mumbled her response, shivering a little against Citrine, clearly not convinced. It wasn’t exactly easy for Thea to look at the scar; she could remember Maude seeing it, remember the soft horrified whispering between her and the nurse. She hadn’t made out the words; as an adult, she could well imagine that they had been discussing how lucky she was to have survived, how serious the damage must have been. As a girl, she had taken it that they were discussing how awful the scar was. Looking back, Thea couldn’t remember what had given her that impression, only that she’d been sure that was what they were saying.
Once – once – Dominic had set up two mirrors for her to see it. That had been a – an interesting experience. For all his flaws, Dom had evidently been quite serious about convincing Thea the scar was beautiful, and he’d put his considerable persuasive powers to work on the endeavor. Thea had certainly felt better about herself after that. But it was a stretch from making peace with the scar to liking it, and if there was a metaphor about her powers somewhere in there, well, Thea wasn’t quite ready for that either.
“Oh?” Thea sat up and twisted to look back at Citrine; the robe started to tumble open, before Citrine’s mage hand hastily held it closed. Thea squeaked, grabbing at the fabric herself, and managing to readjust once she was face Citrine.
“Oh,” Thea’s eyes settled on the snowflake. She’d seen it before; she didn’t think she should tell Citrine that, but in the aftermath of the lightning strike, and afterwards, when she and the healer had been trying to change Citrine into cleaner clothing – Thea had been aware of the scar. Now, permission given, she really looked at it.
Each line was a scar? Thea’s eyes went wide, and she looked at Citrine, trembling a little. “Oh – oh,” Citrine managed to stay upbeat, cheerful still, and so Thea did her best as well. “It’s beautiful, but… cold,” Thea didn’t exactly mean the snowflake shape – maybe the whiteness of it? She wasn’t exactly sure. “Thank you for showing it to me.” She reached out and took Citrine’s hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze, sitting so close to the phoenix woman that their hands were nearly touching.
“… How did you survive that?” Thea asked, hesitantly, a little sobriety creeping back into her voice at the intensity of the topic.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 3, 2019 0:10:17 GMT
"Sheer. Citrine Rain Redbriar. Stubbornness." She stated with no lack of pride. Her wings turned sour, though, the breeze now smelling like it was bilge water, brine, and rotting fish. The muscles of her wings twitched, and Citrine sighed, a bit of a scowl crossing her face briefly, before snorting lightly out of her nose. "Fine, fine." She grumbled. "Sae Aye'd like tae say we was pure stubbornness." The sour went away just as quickly as it'd come, returning to what it had been before.
"But really, Aye didn't. Aye'd thought Aye'd been abandoned by all me friends, me adventuring party, stuck en ah place called Wonderland, with nae one there but teh Lady o' Winter there. Aye was manipulated an lead tae believe ah whole slew o' half-truths an' even lies before teh Lady Maeve went through teh motions o' killin me one last time…. Than stopped halfway through teh ritual tae reincarnate me, an' left me en teh ice an' snow behind her throne."
Indeed, if Thea touched it and kept a finger against the scar more than a few moments, it would feel cold.
"Tha's when Aye came back tae life as ah phoenix. Aye'd lived an' died, been brought back tae life sae often Aye'd caught teh eye o' the ancient elemental, the Firebird 'imself. An… well… ye dan't sae nae tae an offer like tha. An' 'ere Aye am nae."
"As Aye've said." She tucked the strips of fabric back up to cover and rest as it had before, the topic taking some of the buzz she was feeling away. A deeper chug of the bottle, at least 3 shots worth, helped with that problem. "Sorcerers aren't usually created ferm good experiences Lass. Ah storm at sea, ah mad fey seekin' answers. Et leaves et's mark."
Determined to not let this night sour though Citrine handed Thea the bottle after taking one more shot for herself. "Nae teh night fer tha' sorta remembering though, es et?" She grinned. "What dae ye find most attractive en ah woman then, Lass, ef teh forearm an' waist draws ye eye en ah man?" Her wings were not warm sea breeze…. And wax.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 3, 2019 0:25:30 GMT
The sour smell from Citrine’s wings made Thea’s nose twitch a little. She listened, quiet, as the story unfolded – and shivered a little at the description of the mad lady of winter, and her torture of the phoenix. Unable to quite resist, she reached up, stroking the scar with a single finger. The skin felt normal at first, but – as Thea slowly traced her finger over the scar – it started to feel cold, and a bit strange.
Thea pulled her hand away, looking at Citrine. She nodded, quietly, accepting Citrine’s pronouncement on sorcerous origins. “You keep yours covered too,” she said, meeting Citrine’s eyes for a moment, gently pushing at what felt like hypocrisy from her friend.
Thea was grateful for the bottle, for the chance to change subjects. She blushed, tipping the bottle back and taking a drink herself, gasping as the firey whiskey burned its way down into her stomach. “In a woman?” Thea’s eyes widened. “I don’t – I don’t know, I – ” her cheeks flamed, a very dark blue, at the mental image of Citrine kneeling in front of her, slowly undoing the laces on her pants.
“I’m not sure,” Thea admitted, feeling that was a safer answer than any other alternative that came to mind at the moment. “I’ve never – I mean – ” she was blushing so hard she thought Citrine might be able to feel it from several feet away. “… I – the waist is important for a woman as well, I think, and… graceful hands,” Thea blushed a little. “Not forearms so much but – fingers? I suppose,” Thea took another sip of whiskey, grimaced, and thrust the bottle back at Citrine.
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 3, 2019 0:57:54 GMT
Laughing she took the bottle back, seeing how purple her friend was turning at the notion of looking at a woman. "Ahh. Fingers." She whispered back, as if repeating a deep secret. Then, because Citrine was a lil' shit, she waggled her own set of fingers towards the genasi and leaned forward, drunkenly entering Thea's space, one hand even resting on Thea's knee for leverage since, even sitting, Thea was a good foot or so taller in general.
"Aye'll keep me mouth shut about et then, ef ye don't want'ae 'ave anyone knae." She slyly, coyly, grinned, leaned in closer, noses almost touching as she started to almost seem to lose her balance, then disappeared with a pop and fizzle of smoke and embers. She reappeared, still leaning forward, to bump into the table where the basket still was after all these hours. "Aye've anohter bottle en 'ere! And there's bare anything else left en teh first."
'You keep yours covered too' Yes well, who wouldn't keep such a unique looking scar like that covered? It's not like she wore anything to cover it when spending the evening with an impromptu lover. But. It brought out questions of events she'd rather not talk about, too much history wrapped up in it. Too much remembering. Too much acknowledging a time when she'd betrayed everyone close to her for her own personal gain.
Turning around in a drunken pirate swagger, new bottle now open in hand, Citrine grinned and sauntered back towards Thea, shaking the much more filled second bottle. "Tell me moar about this fascination ye seem tae have with teh arm en general."
Lying in bed… near passed out more like it… Thea's bed, the two were snuggling away their drunken lullabies. Citrine just wore undergarments, not having thought to bring sleepwear - an insisted Thea's articles of clothing were just too big for her anyways she'd end up strangling herself in her sleep.
"This reminds me o' teh times 'Olly an Aye would pass teh evenings. Telling stories and making each other laugh. Everyon'e thinks she's ah stick up her arse… well… she does… BUT! She's really nae't all tha' cold an' stoic as she puts on…. Alright, she es but nae when et matters." The two had been trying to fall asleep for what must have been hours now, but constantly kept each other awake by telling a funny story, sharing a joke about something that'd happened earlier that night, and bitching about past suitors and all their faults. "Ye're quite comfy Lass. Very soft, an light…. An' airy." She snorted and erupted into giggles. Citrine's wings were draped over them as Citrine had her head on Thea's stomach, too little to do anything else, really.
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 3, 2019 1:25:58 GMT
They had finished the wine, finished the first bottle of whiskey – although Thea’s relative contribution to that had been slight – and made a significant dent in the second, this time with a bit more of a contribution from Thea.
Somehow, at some point, they had ended up lying in Thea’s bed, snuggled together between the sheets and the blanket. Thea had had the presence of mine to open the window and pull back the bed curtains, so there was a soft breeze swirling over them, cool against the sticky warmth of the whiskey. The front-most strands of hair on Thea’s face danced about her head, swaying back and forth.
“Mmm…” Thea had changed into a light cotton shift at some point, the robe lying pooled on the ground next to the bed. Evidently, there was eventually a point at which the genasi stopped being quite so neat, and they had passed it several shots ago. The shift was scandalously short – only knee length – but Thea was too drunk to worry much about that.
“She sounds nice,” Thea said, sleepily. “I could tell when I saw her, in your memory – the spell you used. I could just tell she was really nice, even though she looked serious.” Thea yawned, and giggled, her stomach rippling a little under Citrine’s cheek.
“Mm…” Thea turned her face into Citrine’s wings, breathing deeply. Ash and candlesmoke and cloves once more – a comforting, familiar smell. Thea was half asleep when it occurred to her – after months of friendship, it would be okay to ask! It would be okay, wouldn’t it? Yes, drunk Thea decided, it was definitely okay, even if it was a very personal question. Citrine knew lots of personal things about her and she knew lots of personal things about Citrine.
“Rain,” Thea shifted, a little urgency in her voice, enough to jar Citrine out of her half-sleep. “Rain, I have a – an important question,” Thea’s hand reached up, her fingers brushing over Citrine’s wings. “Why does the smell from your wings change sometimes? Like – like sometimes you smell nice, like candlesmoke, and sometimes you smell like thunderstorms,” Thea’s fingers danced very lightly over the wings, “and sometimes you smell – almost – almost – sour? Or like melted wax!” Thea giggled. “I don’t like that smell.”
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Citrine
Approved
6 Wild Blooded Sorcerer+ 1 Celestial Warlock
Posts: 328
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Post by Citrine on Mar 3, 2019 1:38:00 GMT
She had just drifted off to sleep, or at least a drunken version of it, when Thea asked one more question. Blearily she lifted her head, having no problem seeing in the dark, a new gift from her Father, and blinked.
"Oh. Tha?" She commented lazily, voice numbed a bit with a drowsy edge. "Et's somethin' Aye've been told before, Aye - they change smells an' teh like." She yawned, shifting up onto her elbow so she wouldn't fall right back asleep. "Aye can't smell et meself, either noseblind tae et o' just incapable, Aye dunno. But lots o' everyone else can. Correlates with me emotions, 'Olly figured et out an' made a sort o' brief hobby study o' et. Et's ah side effect o' teh gifts teh Firebird gave me. Can't lie without there bein' ah tell, an because Aye'm so emotional? Et's out on display fer everyone. Aye bet He thought et would teach me ah lesson en gettin' me feelin's under control, meebe 'oping Aye'd be more composed an' stoic, sae other's nae nae what Aye'm really feelin'."
She snorted, a strange bird sound, then and settled back down to nestle down deeper to go back to sleep. "Teh sour es ah lie, Aye only knae teh do tha' cause they itch when Aye speak falsely. Correctin' meself makes teh smell go away. Candlesmoke? Tha's just me." She yawned again. "Storm are concern, though there's a fine line between teh set o' em. Most water smells are… sad, en nature. Teh fire es anger. Spices fear. Sailin' smells, happy." Peaking one eye open and twisting her head around she commented on the last one. "An teh wax? Firebird says Aye'm seven when Aye'm up tae nae good, sae He made et sae ef Aye was ever thinkin' about gettin intae trouble? Teh world would knae by the smell o' crayons." She grinned, winked, then settled more.
"Aye can give ye 'Olly's notes on em later ef ye want."
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Post by moralhazard on Mar 3, 2019 1:52:09 GMT
Thea’s fingers were still playing with the wings, and stopped abruptly at the news that the sour smell was a lie, eyes widening. She trembled a little, pulling her hand into her chest, and snuggling a little more into Citrine. No lies, then? Or lies with an automatic tell. She was a little drunk – all right, more than a little – but Thea knew she would remember this come morning, remember that while she couldn’t always, er, predict quite what Citrine would do – that at least she could trust her to be honest about it.
“Yeah,” Thea yawned so widely her jaw cracked, her eyes starting to squeeze shut. “Yeah, I’d like… that…” Her head turned to the side, snuggling into her pillow and, half-draped over Citrine, Thea finally fell asleep. It had been a long and miserable few weeks, but – Thea felt at peace, finally, a deep sort of peace that she had never known she could feel, at home somewhere deep in her chest.
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