gomer + cristofolo // near
Who: Gomer & Cristofolo
When: After this thread.
Where: Inanna's
Rating & Warnings: PG for it being Inanna's? Also he's a creeper.
She sat nervously in the kitchen by the fire, checking her nails- plain today, everything so far was plain, because it was cold and there were no customers yet, none worth dressing up for anyway- and smoothing her skirts down when she wasn't, wrapped up in one of the sergeant's scarves he'd knitted for Benny. She'd flown down the stairs into the kitchen, wondering why she'd chosen it, not caring, then caring again.
Cristo was going to see her? Here? Now? He'd told her to wait, and she would. But how, she wondered, how was he back in the walls? Why? It wasn't safe for him. There was still talk in the streets of werewolves, and no one really knew what the Hour one looked like, but everyone, everyone knew what Cristofolo looked like. She didn't think a beard would be enough to fool anyone. It hadn't fooled her. At least, not for very long.
It was foolish to wander Inanna's halls, but what did he do now that wasn't foolish, wasn't reckless? He'd trusted a woman with no reason to like him to smuggle him back into the city, the city where he was wanted for murder on multiple counts, the city where his kind was either hunted or locked up. Now he hid in a whorehouse. His life had become such a morbid joke that he no longer took it seriously. If someone came after him, he would kill them. There was a comforting simplicity to that solution.
All the same, he kept his cloak on, hood up, when he slipped into the kitchens. Enough of his face was unshadowed that he knew Gomer would recognize him; he slouched against the doorway and smirked at her. "Butterfly," he called. "I told you. Here I am, safe, as I said." He still didn't know if she would be truly happy to see him, but he no longer cared.
She'd been in the process of rubbing her hands together when his frame darkened the doorway. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, her lashes pale without any kohl or paint to darken them, making them seem wider, bluer.
Here he was. Safe. As he said.
A noise escaped her, a little hard to define but not unlike the gleeful shrieking of small children getting presents. In a moment she was off of the stool, her thin arms about his neck as far as she could reach, as tight as she could hold. A million reasons why this shouldn't be, why she should not want this, why she should have run in the other direction crossed her mind, but she flitted past all of them, pressing her cheek to his. She pulled back, arms sliding back so she could cup his face, heart like a hummingbird, her expression pleased and ecstatic, worried and confused all at once. "Good," she said, as though she weren't quite sure what else to say. "Good, but... but why are you here?" she asked, whispering fiercely.
He laughed and caught her, gloved hands bracing at the small of her back. "I'll show you," he whispered back, and he scooped her up into his arms with a single swoop, adjusting her weight before he peered around the corner and slipped into the hallway. Shiri would be livid if she caught them. He shouldn't tell Gomer, shouldn't show Gomer; hadn't he cautioned himself against this before? When he'd lived in the forest, the wide, tangled spread of forest with no boundaries and no real human presence, he still hadn't told her where he hid. Now, a few rooms away, he would? Cristofolo decided he no longer cared. Let her tell someone. He'd rip them apart.
He shouldered open the door to the room Shiri had given him and set Gomer on her feet once they were both inside, the door shut behind them. "Shiri has taken pity on me," he explained, gesturing to the room. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his beard brushing at her throat, "I'm your neighbour now."
Startled, she clung to him reflexively, legs kicking in the air. "Hey!" she said aloud before she could remember to keep her voice down- not that he really seemed to care, given how he was whisking her away. She pressed her lips together, looking the other way while he peered ahead. Shiri was probably still asleep, but it wasn't something even Gomer was willing to bet on- the woman was well known for being unpredictable, even for something as small as sleeping patterns.
He didn't leave the building. She recognized the room, little used and a little cold. Most of them walked past it without even thinking about it. When he opened it, she gawked, looking back over his shoulder, fully expecting someone to see. But it didn't happen. She landed on her bare feet quietly and she kept her hands, partly by habit, resting on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric, though her eyes trailed over the room, dim and sparsely furnished and dusty, trying to make sense of the situation. Because, by all means, it made no sense at all.
"Shiri did this??" she asked, eyes snapping back to him, neck craning slightly to peer up at him. "Shiri? My Shiri. The one that hates you Shiri?" Shiri wasn't known for keeping secrets as far as Gomer knew, and while she hadn't outright said anything, she'd cursed and muttered enough for Gomer to put two and two together when it came to Cristofolo. "Why?" she asked, flabbergasted. And here? Suddenly she thought- but she'd still be working- and he'd be there?
Shame was not well known to Gomer. The small twinge of it in her breast made her eyes flicker away, uncomfortable.
That made him frown and scratch at the back of his neck. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Because she could, she said. Months ago, when I had just been turned, she lectured me to be vicious... I tore open her throat." Mouth set to one side, he absently brushed some of Gomer's wild red hair from her cheek with his knuckles. "I did not give her any reason to like me. But... here I am." There was the very real possibility that now that Shiri had him trapped in a known location, she would sell him out to the Guard... but because it was so obvious, so sensible, Cristofolo doubted she'd do it.
"You aren't happy?" he prodded, looking down at Gomer with wide, expectant yellow eyes.
She stared at him while he spoke, like it was another language though one she knew and understood the words to. Tore her throat out?? She remembered Shiri holing herself up for a few days, but she'd come out fine. Was that another thing she could do? Cristofolo had no reason to tell her things like that, had no reason to lie. But she wasn't afraid of him because of it. Shiri could look after herself- that he, her Cristofolo, her shy boy had done something like that to Shiri, almost made her laugh. She did laugh a little, actually, her smile wide, sincere.
At his question, she looked at him again, caught up for a moment in speechlessness, his eyes still taking her off guard. "I am," she said, softly, but there was a silence, as though she were considering her answer. And it was perfectly true, a realization that seemed to shock her. "I am," she repeated, sounding confident though surprised. She almost smiled, but her eyebrows drew in, her fingers still slightly twisted in the fabric of his cloak, an anxious tug. "But, you know- I mean, well. This is. This is where I work." The words stuck in her throat the first few times, but ultimately they came out, her eyes lowered again to examine the folds of his cloak more closely.
"Yes," he agreed, eyebrows furrowing in curious confusion as he smiled down at her. Of course it was where she worked; how many times had he come here to buy her? Did she think he was ignorant of the fact that she was available to any man that came through with coin in his pocket? He knew what Gomer was. Accepted it. It made very little difference to him. Let her work; if anyone hurt her, her wolf would hurt them back.
"Do you think this will make me jealous?" he asked her, his voice gentler than his thoughts. His eyes drifted over her, her flimsy dress, her scarf, her pale freckled skin. His stare lifted to fix on hers, and Cristofolo smiled. "I know what you are, butterfly. I won't cause your clients any trouble unless you want me to. And..." he trailed off with a little shrug, one clawed finger curling around the laces of her blouse. "I still have coin myself."
Jealous? Maybe not so much jealous, though she wouldn't mind that as much. Disgusted, that may have been what she was worried about, though her whole life was a definition of the word. That she would feel so... so inadequate now, when she hadn't even thought about it when he held wealth and status- perhaps that said something about what she thought of him now. Or what she'd realized she thought of him.
Though it was cold in the little room, she felt flushed when he ran his eyes over her. It was ridiculous that she should react in such a way, but she let her hands run down his cloak, holding but loosely so that her hands were level with his waist. "Keep it," she murmured. His voice was soft, but the way he looked at her, the fingers toying with her clothes, told her more than any words he gave her. She tilted her head to one side, contemplative, her hair running over one shoulder to expose her throat. She looked to him again, pushed herself up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, a smile shaping her lips like a pleased cat. "If I need anything from you- anything- well, I know where you live."
Against all odds, she tasted sweet. For a moment, his thoughts went blank; it'd been weeks, months maybe, since he'd even been kissed. It felt both good and unsettling, unfamiliar. He kissed her again for the feel of it. "Yes," he mumbled, nuzzling his nose along hers. "I will be here." Would she visit him often? He hoped she would. Soon he'd get courage enough to show her what he looked like as a wolf; he wondered if she'd be frightened, or awed, or treat him simply as an overlarge dog. Given Gomer, he suspected she'd cycle through all three and settle on the last. She did love her toys.
He settled his hands low on her hips and smiled again, crooked eyetooth poking out from his lips. "Promise you'll visit? If you don't, maybe I will get jealous."
She didn't look at all displeased that he kissed her again. No, she was quite happy to have seen that mesmerized moment. If he'd forgotten her, she'd reacquaint him soon enough. She moved her hands up, a little cold, to cup his jaw, leaning on him without reservation. She wasn't on duty. She could say yes or no, she could walk out, she could stay. It was up to her. That she could choose to stay, and say yes, because she wanted to, because she wanted him, made her feel giddy.
She pulled back a little to look into his face better, and then she laughed. "Would you? You wouldn't be the first, you know." And not the first willing to kill, either. The first, however, she'd been willing to entertain the notion with. "Should I try? Would you be willing to risk the hallways again to search me out?"
His eyebrows lifted. "To hunt you through the hallways, butterfly? I would." He tossed his head a little, playfully, against her hold on his jaw. "You can't hide from me," Cristofolo warned. "I will sniff you out." To demonstrate, he ducked his head and sniffed at her wrists, nose wrinkling at the overpowering scent of perfume. To a human it would be tolerable, normal, but to him it was dizzying.
She laughed at him. It was ridiculous that this was happening, there was no denial of that, but to laugh at something so ridiculous was a freedom of itself. Everything that had been going on, she felt she'd been so wrapped up in personal spite and fear and confusion, it wasn't until she laughed that she realized how tightly coiled she'd been.
The look on his face made her laugh again and she tried to hide it in her shoulder, not wanting anyone else to hear. "Sorry, dearheart. I'll remember to bathe before I see you," she murmured, kissing his temple through his dark hair while his head was still bowed. A consideration she wondered if she could keep- it was second nature to put perfume on. No, she decided, that, at least, she could keep. She reached up to stroke her fingers through his hair, and kissed him again, lingeringly.
"It's early yet," she said, fingers drawing to his throat, the clasp to his cloak. Head tilted, she grinned. "I think we ought have ourselves a little celebration."
~~ fade to giggity ~~
When: After this thread.
Where: Inanna's
Rating & Warnings: PG for it being Inanna's? Also he's a creeper.
She sat nervously in the kitchen by the fire, checking her nails- plain today, everything so far was plain, because it was cold and there were no customers yet, none worth dressing up for anyway- and smoothing her skirts down when she wasn't, wrapped up in one of the sergeant's scarves he'd knitted for Benny. She'd flown down the stairs into the kitchen, wondering why she'd chosen it, not caring, then caring again.
Cristo was going to see her? Here? Now? He'd told her to wait, and she would. But how, she wondered, how was he back in the walls? Why? It wasn't safe for him. There was still talk in the streets of werewolves, and no one really knew what the Hour one looked like, but everyone, everyone knew what Cristofolo looked like. She didn't think a beard would be enough to fool anyone. It hadn't fooled her. At least, not for very long.
It was foolish to wander Inanna's halls, but what did he do now that wasn't foolish, wasn't reckless? He'd trusted a woman with no reason to like him to smuggle him back into the city, the city where he was wanted for murder on multiple counts, the city where his kind was either hunted or locked up. Now he hid in a whorehouse. His life had become such a morbid joke that he no longer took it seriously. If someone came after him, he would kill them. There was a comforting simplicity to that solution.
All the same, he kept his cloak on, hood up, when he slipped into the kitchens. Enough of his face was unshadowed that he knew Gomer would recognize him; he slouched against the doorway and smirked at her. "Butterfly," he called. "I told you. Here I am, safe, as I said." He still didn't know if she would be truly happy to see him, but he no longer cared.
She'd been in the process of rubbing her hands together when his frame darkened the doorway. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, her lashes pale without any kohl or paint to darken them, making them seem wider, bluer.
Here he was. Safe. As he said.
A noise escaped her, a little hard to define but not unlike the gleeful shrieking of small children getting presents. In a moment she was off of the stool, her thin arms about his neck as far as she could reach, as tight as she could hold. A million reasons why this shouldn't be, why she should not want this, why she should have run in the other direction crossed her mind, but she flitted past all of them, pressing her cheek to his. She pulled back, arms sliding back so she could cup his face, heart like a hummingbird, her expression pleased and ecstatic, worried and confused all at once. "Good," she said, as though she weren't quite sure what else to say. "Good, but... but why are you here?" she asked, whispering fiercely.
He laughed and caught her, gloved hands bracing at the small of her back. "I'll show you," he whispered back, and he scooped her up into his arms with a single swoop, adjusting her weight before he peered around the corner and slipped into the hallway. Shiri would be livid if she caught them. He shouldn't tell Gomer, shouldn't show Gomer; hadn't he cautioned himself against this before? When he'd lived in the forest, the wide, tangled spread of forest with no boundaries and no real human presence, he still hadn't told her where he hid. Now, a few rooms away, he would? Cristofolo decided he no longer cared. Let her tell someone. He'd rip them apart.
He shouldered open the door to the room Shiri had given him and set Gomer on her feet once they were both inside, the door shut behind them. "Shiri has taken pity on me," he explained, gesturing to the room. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, his beard brushing at her throat, "I'm your neighbour now."
Startled, she clung to him reflexively, legs kicking in the air. "Hey!" she said aloud before she could remember to keep her voice down- not that he really seemed to care, given how he was whisking her away. She pressed her lips together, looking the other way while he peered ahead. Shiri was probably still asleep, but it wasn't something even Gomer was willing to bet on- the woman was well known for being unpredictable, even for something as small as sleeping patterns.
He didn't leave the building. She recognized the room, little used and a little cold. Most of them walked past it without even thinking about it. When he opened it, she gawked, looking back over his shoulder, fully expecting someone to see. But it didn't happen. She landed on her bare feet quietly and she kept her hands, partly by habit, resting on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric, though her eyes trailed over the room, dim and sparsely furnished and dusty, trying to make sense of the situation. Because, by all means, it made no sense at all.
"Shiri did this??" she asked, eyes snapping back to him, neck craning slightly to peer up at him. "Shiri? My Shiri. The one that hates you Shiri?" Shiri wasn't known for keeping secrets as far as Gomer knew, and while she hadn't outright said anything, she'd cursed and muttered enough for Gomer to put two and two together when it came to Cristofolo. "Why?" she asked, flabbergasted. And here? Suddenly she thought- but she'd still be working- and he'd be there?
Shame was not well known to Gomer. The small twinge of it in her breast made her eyes flicker away, uncomfortable.
That made him frown and scratch at the back of his neck. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Because she could, she said. Months ago, when I had just been turned, she lectured me to be vicious... I tore open her throat." Mouth set to one side, he absently brushed some of Gomer's wild red hair from her cheek with his knuckles. "I did not give her any reason to like me. But... here I am." There was the very real possibility that now that Shiri had him trapped in a known location, she would sell him out to the Guard... but because it was so obvious, so sensible, Cristofolo doubted she'd do it.
"You aren't happy?" he prodded, looking down at Gomer with wide, expectant yellow eyes.
She stared at him while he spoke, like it was another language though one she knew and understood the words to. Tore her throat out?? She remembered Shiri holing herself up for a few days, but she'd come out fine. Was that another thing she could do? Cristofolo had no reason to tell her things like that, had no reason to lie. But she wasn't afraid of him because of it. Shiri could look after herself- that he, her Cristofolo, her shy boy had done something like that to Shiri, almost made her laugh. She did laugh a little, actually, her smile wide, sincere.
At his question, she looked at him again, caught up for a moment in speechlessness, his eyes still taking her off guard. "I am," she said, softly, but there was a silence, as though she were considering her answer. And it was perfectly true, a realization that seemed to shock her. "I am," she repeated, sounding confident though surprised. She almost smiled, but her eyebrows drew in, her fingers still slightly twisted in the fabric of his cloak, an anxious tug. "But, you know- I mean, well. This is. This is where I work." The words stuck in her throat the first few times, but ultimately they came out, her eyes lowered again to examine the folds of his cloak more closely.
"Yes," he agreed, eyebrows furrowing in curious confusion as he smiled down at her. Of course it was where she worked; how many times had he come here to buy her? Did she think he was ignorant of the fact that she was available to any man that came through with coin in his pocket? He knew what Gomer was. Accepted it. It made very little difference to him. Let her work; if anyone hurt her, her wolf would hurt them back.
"Do you think this will make me jealous?" he asked her, his voice gentler than his thoughts. His eyes drifted over her, her flimsy dress, her scarf, her pale freckled skin. His stare lifted to fix on hers, and Cristofolo smiled. "I know what you are, butterfly. I won't cause your clients any trouble unless you want me to. And..." he trailed off with a little shrug, one clawed finger curling around the laces of her blouse. "I still have coin myself."
Jealous? Maybe not so much jealous, though she wouldn't mind that as much. Disgusted, that may have been what she was worried about, though her whole life was a definition of the word. That she would feel so... so inadequate now, when she hadn't even thought about it when he held wealth and status- perhaps that said something about what she thought of him now. Or what she'd realized she thought of him.
Though it was cold in the little room, she felt flushed when he ran his eyes over her. It was ridiculous that she should react in such a way, but she let her hands run down his cloak, holding but loosely so that her hands were level with his waist. "Keep it," she murmured. His voice was soft, but the way he looked at her, the fingers toying with her clothes, told her more than any words he gave her. She tilted her head to one side, contemplative, her hair running over one shoulder to expose her throat. She looked to him again, pushed herself up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, a smile shaping her lips like a pleased cat. "If I need anything from you- anything- well, I know where you live."
Against all odds, she tasted sweet. For a moment, his thoughts went blank; it'd been weeks, months maybe, since he'd even been kissed. It felt both good and unsettling, unfamiliar. He kissed her again for the feel of it. "Yes," he mumbled, nuzzling his nose along hers. "I will be here." Would she visit him often? He hoped she would. Soon he'd get courage enough to show her what he looked like as a wolf; he wondered if she'd be frightened, or awed, or treat him simply as an overlarge dog. Given Gomer, he suspected she'd cycle through all three and settle on the last. She did love her toys.
He settled his hands low on her hips and smiled again, crooked eyetooth poking out from his lips. "Promise you'll visit? If you don't, maybe I will get jealous."
She didn't look at all displeased that he kissed her again. No, she was quite happy to have seen that mesmerized moment. If he'd forgotten her, she'd reacquaint him soon enough. She moved her hands up, a little cold, to cup his jaw, leaning on him without reservation. She wasn't on duty. She could say yes or no, she could walk out, she could stay. It was up to her. That she could choose to stay, and say yes, because she wanted to, because she wanted him, made her feel giddy.
She pulled back a little to look into his face better, and then she laughed. "Would you? You wouldn't be the first, you know." And not the first willing to kill, either. The first, however, she'd been willing to entertain the notion with. "Should I try? Would you be willing to risk the hallways again to search me out?"
His eyebrows lifted. "To hunt you through the hallways, butterfly? I would." He tossed his head a little, playfully, against her hold on his jaw. "You can't hide from me," Cristofolo warned. "I will sniff you out." To demonstrate, he ducked his head and sniffed at her wrists, nose wrinkling at the overpowering scent of perfume. To a human it would be tolerable, normal, but to him it was dizzying.
She laughed at him. It was ridiculous that this was happening, there was no denial of that, but to laugh at something so ridiculous was a freedom of itself. Everything that had been going on, she felt she'd been so wrapped up in personal spite and fear and confusion, it wasn't until she laughed that she realized how tightly coiled she'd been.
The look on his face made her laugh again and she tried to hide it in her shoulder, not wanting anyone else to hear. "Sorry, dearheart. I'll remember to bathe before I see you," she murmured, kissing his temple through his dark hair while his head was still bowed. A consideration she wondered if she could keep- it was second nature to put perfume on. No, she decided, that, at least, she could keep. She reached up to stroke her fingers through his hair, and kissed him again, lingeringly.
"It's early yet," she said, fingers drawing to his throat, the clasp to his cloak. Head tilted, she grinned. "I think we ought have ourselves a little celebration."
~~ fade to giggity ~~