Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones

[not_whales]

WHO: Dwei and Veronica
WHEN: Sunday the 22nd, Afternoon
WHERE: Veronika's torture chamber House.
WHAT: The basement. The basement. The basement. The basement. THE BASEMENT.

Comments

[pravdadomina]

An unlocked front door and Gigi pacing like mad back and forth along the length of her foyer had not been something Veronika expected to come home to after spending the morning shopping. Well, she had been slowly accustoming herself to the eccentric (and oftentimes creepy) character of Nicoleta's cat, so perhaps the cat's frazzled appearance upon her opening the door had been expected.

A cautious look around gave the Czech the impression that nothing had been touched, though she wasn't quite sure how the upstairs looked. Though she hadn't been gone too long that anyone would have actually broken in, as she had slept in longer than expected. And considering Gigi's earlier mentioned eccentricities, it didn't seem as though she were any potential door.

At least, not until she spotted the door to her basement standing wide open.

Hurrying forward, Veronika inched herself down the first two steps before pausing.

A deep breath before continuing downward, blue eyes flashing dangerously at the mere idea that someone had dared to break

[not_whales]

It was the siren's call to a sailor lost at sea. The moment he heard Veronika's voice, he stumbled towards it, careful not to trip over the poles and ropes and whips and ohgodwhatwasthatfor and ohgodwheredoesthatgo. Admittedly, he had wished that it wasn't her. Anyone but her. That he had stumbled into the wrong house, that maybe she was keeping a roommate that he didn't know about because - hey - that explained the spare bed. But when he saw her, she looked as horrified as he imagined himself to be (years of acting turned his enunciated expressions into his default ones).

"V-Veronika, what-... what is all of this?!"

[pravdadomina]

Veronika had never been one to shy away from most things. When the time would come for her to reveal her quote-unquote alternative lifestyle to past significant others, she would do so with only the most minuscule hints of apprehension, though that in itself had often been overshadowed by her seemingly nonchalant way of bringing up the topic. However, that was it, not once had she never been the one to initiate that talk. Not once had she ever had to deal with someone accidentally stumbling into things she had not been prepared to touch on just yet

[not_whales]

She was right. He could not imagine just what direction this conversation would take within this chamber, as the only place to sit comfortably was the bed - and he also would rather not imagine what activities took place there.

Her hand was on his wrist, tugging insistently, and after remaining stubbornly still, he allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs. The kitchen, yes, the kitchen. It was comfortable here. Knives, forks, spoons, plates, dishwasher, table. It took him several minutes to calm down enough to speak. "Veronika, what-?"