Post by deoridhe on Jul 8, 2010 2:27:31 GMT -5
[[ This happened a couple days ago, but I kept forgetting to post it - so here it is. ]]
Deoridhe woke up slowly, gradually. She's warm, snuggled into blankets, and there's an unexpected weight in front of her and around her waist - something heavier than the stuffed animals she usually snuggles into. Making a soft, complaining murmur sound, she snuggles a little closer. The impulse to wake up is strong, though; she's been asleep for a very long time and certain... personal needs are making themselves known. Wrigglestretching a little, she pries open her eyes only to find a ....chest.... in front of her. A man's.... chest. She frowns at it; it doesn't /look/ like Jehan's chest. She reaches out a hand to touch. It feels coldish, warmed only by her body heat. And the weight on her waist.... is an arm... Her head is on his other arm, and he's very obviously dead, and a sudden fear frissons through her - would Jehan have put a dead body in the bed? - before she realizes no, of course not. He says he doesn't like to cause pain, and he'd know waking up next to a corpse would hurt her... right?
Deoridhe wriggles a bit more; pinned as she is it's hard to do much of anything, including look up, but she manages it after a moment and has to stifle a scream with her hand. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit! Remiel! The startlement and fear sets her pale; sets her heartbeat pounding; in that panic it takes a few seconds to realize he ...isn't moving. He's asleep? Dead? Vaaaampire. Right. Panting, she tries to slow down her heart; there's no telling how close it is to sunset, here. Carefully, gradually, she tries to wriggle herself free - but he's wrapped himself pretty thoroughly and even - damn him! - laid on her skirt. Panting a little, this time from exertion, she drops her head back on his arm and peers at him a long moment. He looks different when he's asleep - vulnerable, like that time when he was so frightened, and she'd mopped pink tears off of his cheeks.
Deoridhe brushes his hair out of his face, gently, and sighs a little. Despite Jehan's reassurances last night, she's pretty sure she will always be a cause of trouble for them - even if Bink likes having her around, is that enough? She starts to try to wriggle free again, angling herself partly up and tugging at her skirt - ignoring the hand at her waist for now; it would be easy to move. She's gotten some headway when that hand, which was supposed to be all still and dead, squeezes. It... squeezes her waist. She can't quite stifle the little squeak of panic as her heartbeat begins to pick up again and she tugs with more earnest at the skirt trapped under his hip.
Deoridhe is fully focused on getting herself loose now, each millimeter of fabric freed celebrated as a victory. She's so engrossed in the process that when a small, fuzzy body jumps on the bed by Jehan's immobile feet and hisses at her she just about jumps out of her skin, and this time does shriek, slapping her hands over her mouth to try to stifle the sound the second she realizes she's making it.
Deoridhe laughs a little as her heart gallops toward escape. "Mon cher," she whispers, fiercely, "don't DO that." She earns a hiss as her reply, but she's more resilient this time - plus she knows it's a damn kitten - so she's able to return her attention to laboriously tugging her skirt out from under Remiel. The part of her brain not panicking or focusing on precisely applying pressure to fabric is caught up in a partly irrelevant consideration of whether Vampires move in their sleep, and ends up deciding even if they don't and can't, she'd rather think Remiel somehow wrapped himself around her to snuggle while not conscious, rather than consciously decided to curl up on her and go to sleep. "Oh thank the gods!" Her skirt free, she now sets about trying to wriggle down Remiel's body so that she doesn't have to try to push his arm off of her waist. Instead, just wriggle down from it! It occurs to her, when her head is about at crotch level, that this would be a very bad time for him to wake up.
Deoridhe finally is free! Panting a little, she straightens her clothes with hands that are only shaking a little bit. She leans over to tug at his waistband; sometime her her wriggling she'd caught at it and tugged it down a little. Taking a deep breath, then, she staggers to her feet and goes to look for Bink - and breakfast. Maybe listening when Jehan told her to sleep over hadn't been the smartest thing, after all....
Deoridhe woke up slowly, gradually. She's warm, snuggled into blankets, and there's an unexpected weight in front of her and around her waist - something heavier than the stuffed animals she usually snuggles into. Making a soft, complaining murmur sound, she snuggles a little closer. The impulse to wake up is strong, though; she's been asleep for a very long time and certain... personal needs are making themselves known. Wrigglestretching a little, she pries open her eyes only to find a ....chest.... in front of her. A man's.... chest. She frowns at it; it doesn't /look/ like Jehan's chest. She reaches out a hand to touch. It feels coldish, warmed only by her body heat. And the weight on her waist.... is an arm... Her head is on his other arm, and he's very obviously dead, and a sudden fear frissons through her - would Jehan have put a dead body in the bed? - before she realizes no, of course not. He says he doesn't like to cause pain, and he'd know waking up next to a corpse would hurt her... right?
Deoridhe wriggles a bit more; pinned as she is it's hard to do much of anything, including look up, but she manages it after a moment and has to stifle a scream with her hand. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit! Remiel! The startlement and fear sets her pale; sets her heartbeat pounding; in that panic it takes a few seconds to realize he ...isn't moving. He's asleep? Dead? Vaaaampire. Right. Panting, she tries to slow down her heart; there's no telling how close it is to sunset, here. Carefully, gradually, she tries to wriggle herself free - but he's wrapped himself pretty thoroughly and even - damn him! - laid on her skirt. Panting a little, this time from exertion, she drops her head back on his arm and peers at him a long moment. He looks different when he's asleep - vulnerable, like that time when he was so frightened, and she'd mopped pink tears off of his cheeks.
Deoridhe brushes his hair out of his face, gently, and sighs a little. Despite Jehan's reassurances last night, she's pretty sure she will always be a cause of trouble for them - even if Bink likes having her around, is that enough? She starts to try to wriggle free again, angling herself partly up and tugging at her skirt - ignoring the hand at her waist for now; it would be easy to move. She's gotten some headway when that hand, which was supposed to be all still and dead, squeezes. It... squeezes her waist. She can't quite stifle the little squeak of panic as her heartbeat begins to pick up again and she tugs with more earnest at the skirt trapped under his hip.
Deoridhe is fully focused on getting herself loose now, each millimeter of fabric freed celebrated as a victory. She's so engrossed in the process that when a small, fuzzy body jumps on the bed by Jehan's immobile feet and hisses at her she just about jumps out of her skin, and this time does shriek, slapping her hands over her mouth to try to stifle the sound the second she realizes she's making it.
Deoridhe laughs a little as her heart gallops toward escape. "Mon cher," she whispers, fiercely, "don't DO that." She earns a hiss as her reply, but she's more resilient this time - plus she knows it's a damn kitten - so she's able to return her attention to laboriously tugging her skirt out from under Remiel. The part of her brain not panicking or focusing on precisely applying pressure to fabric is caught up in a partly irrelevant consideration of whether Vampires move in their sleep, and ends up deciding even if they don't and can't, she'd rather think Remiel somehow wrapped himself around her to snuggle while not conscious, rather than consciously decided to curl up on her and go to sleep. "Oh thank the gods!" Her skirt free, she now sets about trying to wriggle down Remiel's body so that she doesn't have to try to push his arm off of her waist. Instead, just wriggle down from it! It occurs to her, when her head is about at crotch level, that this would be a very bad time for him to wake up.
Deoridhe finally is free! Panting a little, she straightens her clothes with hands that are only shaking a little bit. She leans over to tug at his waistband; sometime her her wriggling she'd caught at it and tugged it down a little. Taking a deep breath, then, she staggers to her feet and goes to look for Bink - and breakfast. Maybe listening when Jehan told her to sleep over hadn't been the smartest thing, after all....