Dorian was in glorious form. He did not envy those who mistook a day spent humbly, without immediate cause for fear or celebration, for a life lived. Until that morning he had become convinced that routine had infested every corner of the island, but oh! Such chaos and madness!
To be not the victim, but the witness to such a heinous crime; there was such excitement in this! Dressed with regard to the drab fashion he'd come to associate with Serena's era, Dorian answered the boy's anger with sympathy. "Come now," he spoke in well-formed German, "you are whole and beautiful. The offense can't be so horrid."
"No. It most certainly is not!" Antoine snapped, stamping a foot on the ground in irritation, a move that she had perfected long ago and used many times. But she was startled by how this new body reacted to it. The foot slammed down with unaccustomed to force and her voice was so much louder than it had ever been as a girl. It made the German sound positively unpleasant like that and she quickly switched to French.
"Look at me. My bottom lip is still so... Well, it's so Habsburg. I hate it."
My, but he was a petulant boy. Dorian suspected the irrationality of a girl lurking in the heart of such a fair creature, and a well-bred one come to that. Consider him intrigued. Closing in with careful, measured steps, Dorian stood behind him and observed his countenance through the mirror.
"Come, you mustn't," he consoled him in exquisite French. "I entreat you, my dear. It is fruitless and unwarranted. Look closer," he urged, his hands rising to rest gently upon his shoulders from behind, as if gentling a bolting horse. "Your bottom lip is a charming one. You will see for yourself should you smile."
"I did smile," Antoine pouted at their reflections in the mirror. He spoke French with such a lovely accent and when she finally pulled her eyes away from her own face she could see just how lovely his face was as well. Not in the same way as Rupert perhaps, but still stunningly handsome in a way that wouldn't have seemed out of place in Versailles. It had a bit of the air of a mask about it. "I did smile and the effect was very charming, but dimples simply don't make up for the ill-fortune of possessing such an appalling lower lip."
"My lip," Antoine said, pointing to the offending facial feature. "And my hair. It's short. And my..." She looked down at the spot where her breasts usually were. "And my clothes do not fit me anymore."
"No. I'm a girl." She frowned and only barely resisted the urge to stamp her feet. They were bare and she didn't want to hurt them. They were still rather true to form and she supposed they were still small and pretty in a more masculine way.
"I'm usually a very pretty girl. But now I'm just an ugly little boy!"
The washroom wasn't quite empty when 'Tony' entered, as there was a tall, blonde woman rinsing out her mouth after brushing her teeth.
She heard the young man muttering something in german, wiping off her mouth and twisting her head to look at him.
She couldn't quite see what the problem was, but maybe this 'young man' wasn't male to start off with, she had enough empathy to see how that'd piss off anyone.
"What's not fair?" She really hoped she wouldn't be kicking herself later for getting involved.
"What's not fair?" Antoine looked at the other woman as if she had grown an extra head or at least was just extraordinarily thick. Didn't people see the full extent of her suffering in this state?
Well that answered that question. She looked him (her) over, he wasn't that bad looking. Hell, it was the sort of image that high school girls would put inside their locker.
"Calm down, you're not the only one affected. Half of the people on this island don't have their right 'parts', maybe they'll have the answers." A small part of her was curious as to the number of german speakers.
"I will not calm down," she replied, working herself into a nice little hysterical fit. "No one ever has any answers on this silly old island, they don't even pretend to. No, they just all go along with the whole silly business instead. Most of them probably even think that it's fun. But none of my clothes fit now! No one understands how horrible this is! And I can't even be a handsome boy! Look at my lip!"
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To be not the victim, but the witness to such a heinous crime; there was such excitement in this! Dressed with regard to the drab fashion he'd come to associate with Serena's era, Dorian answered the boy's anger with sympathy. "Come now," he spoke in well-formed German, "you are whole and beautiful. The offense can't be so horrid."
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"Look at me. My bottom lip is still so... Well, it's so Habsburg. I hate it."
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"Come, you mustn't," he consoled him in exquisite French. "I entreat you, my dear. It is fruitless and unwarranted. Look closer," he urged, his hands rising to rest gently upon his shoulders from behind, as if gentling a bolting horse. "Your bottom lip is a charming one. You will see for yourself should you smile."
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"I'm usually a very pretty girl. But now I'm just an ugly little boy!"
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She heard the young man muttering something in german, wiping off her mouth and twisting her head to look at him.
She couldn't quite see what the problem was, but maybe this 'young man' wasn't male to start off with, she had enough empathy to see how that'd piss off anyone.
"What's not fair?" She really hoped she wouldn't be kicking herself later for getting involved.
Reply
"What's not fair? Everything is! I'm a boy!"
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"Calm down, you're not the only one affected. Half of the people on this island don't have their right 'parts', maybe they'll have the answers." A small part of her was curious as to the number of german speakers.
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