Trust |
Summary: | Wolf is still digesting the whole business with Jesse, and confides in Kathleen. In bed. Wolf also goes to some uncomfortable lengths to be honest with Kathleen. Still in bed. |
Date: | 1943.03.20 |
Related: | None |
Content Warning…
Wolf is (very) gender-fluid and has serious body dysmorphia about her real (Bernadette) face and body. Her player has neither, but has known people who do, and tries to RP it all effectively. Also, Wolf has been the victim of witchcraft very akin to torture. Some of the damage to her body left disfiguring scars. All of this figures prominently in this scene.
While the actual sex or any activity that would get anyone more than a PG rating all happens off camera, there is also a lot of obvious tenderness and caressing, and some of it happens on camera due to Wolf's unusual (and mangled) physique.
We (Kathleen and I) don't want to make you uncomfortable. If these things are triggering or otherwise uncomfortable for you, you might want to skip this log. There won't be a quiz on it later or anything. If, by contrast, you like romantic, emotionally dramatic logs between somewhat dysfunctional people, you've come to the right place.
In a town the size of Higsy, there aren't many streetlights, and it's late. The room is so dark that even clear eyes don't see a whole lot. Perhaps motion. Perhaps the vague sense that some dark is lighter than others, and probably represents a solid object — walls, doors, the bed, Kathleen's bare skin. Very dark indeed. Wolf is male tonight, in his solid, rangy "Ray" face, and he's spooned around Kathleen, nosing her hair, arms curled around her protectively, hands around hers. He's quiet, but he's not asleep. Kathleen could probably tell, since he sighs softly.
What better way to end a busy workday than to go for a tumble in the sack. Kathleen has stressed in the past that Wolf, whatever the guise, was always welcome in the house, in it's entirety. The room to let? The one of two that was granted to Wolf way back when? Officially hers now, to serve as a point of solidarity, to call her own. The only disclaimer: if Madeline is awake? To always retain the face that the younger Wright knows. Once the fair girl is asleep — and she sleeps like a rock — .. all of the faces have free reign.
Does Madeline Wright know of the 'other' nature of Kathleen and Wolf's association? Hard to say. Kathleen does feel bad to be keeping a host of secrets from her sister but that is solely due to the girl not being 'ready', yet, to hear them. That time will come. For now though, with the night looming dark and deep and their soiree completed, dissolving into comfort, Kathleen lets it all be. She went to Wolf's room and there she stayed, aware of everything around her, grateful for the peace. She drifts in that loamy state of sated half-awakeness, arched into the body behind her.. whom she knows is not sleeping as he should. The sigh is heard and felt.
Y'okay back there?" She asks huskily with earnest concern.
Wolf kisses the back of Kathleen's head softly, breathing in her scent. "Yeah," he drawls softly, his accent more pronounced and less educated in this face. "Just thinkin'. 'Bout Walkers mostly. Which ain't right to be thinkin' with you here."
The woman feels relaxed, the previous efforts having taken every shred of tension to be discerned in her muscles and countenance. The kiss to the back of her head draws forth a contented sigh of her own. She enjoys the accent; swims in it, draws a strange, unexpected comfort from hearing it and feeling it. The older she gets, the more it seems Kathleen can give herself over easily to this scenario. Cuddling, talking, in bed. It's nicer than she could ever admit… but that, too, is because she trusts the face-shifter without question.
"Oh really? Ya gettin' to know one of their ilk?" She asks casually without even a shred of unease or judgement. Curiosity, mostly; she tilts her head some to try peering over her shoulder into the shadows, as the face behind her. "Ya can talk to me if somethin' is on yer mind. Ain't bugging me none."
Wolf snorts quietly and traces fingertips along Kathleen's chest lightly, just touching her skin, savoring the sensation of it much the same way he enjoys petting cats. Except of course that Kathleen is human, aware, and very dear to him. That's a mixed blessing, that last part. "I kind of… threw Raphael at Jesse. Mm. No, that ain't right. More'n that. I wanted. Somethin'. And I can't exactly put my finger on what. I ain't lonely. I have as much family as I know what to do with. Somethin' about him… about all the Walker men, but him most of all. I don't know."
Watch yourself there, Wolf; you go on touching Kathleen like that, she'll be ready for round two. She exhales softly, would purr if she could (to further the feline metaphor), but instead allows and appreciates the touch. It's no use trying to turn to face him, and there's something so intimate and soul-baring about lying there in the dark, having to focus on voices and their nuances. No, Kathleen isn't a romantic, poetic soul… but even she can appreciate these feelings. That and she's too damned warm and comfortable and jazzed up at feeling a sturdy male form tuched in behind her.
She listens, and if Wolf were worried that this admittance would ruffle Kitty any, it doesn't. "Jesse is a good kid… can see how y'would want to know him a bit more. Those Walker boys seem apt to throw ladyfolk into tizzies without even meaning to." A smooth chuckle, "But the young one yer talkin' of in particular, there is somethin'. He's hurt I think, not just by how he was treated by some confused little chippy in town but by circumstance. How'd he take Raph?"
Wolf continues with the downward petting, along Kathleen's side to her belly. "Well, let's say when I invite a man to the tub in that face, I ain't accustomed to bein' turned down. 'Course I was tryin' to be more… honest. I mean, I am a professional. I actually was trained to seduce, both men and women. In all my faces except my real one. But… There's a certain amount of lyin' involved with that. You say whatever you need to say to get the deed done, for whatever reason you think it needs bein' done. And yeah, I think that was it. I didn't want to hurt him. Didn't want to risk breakin' that… goodness or… kindness. I wanted to hold him, t'be held by him… wash his hair… he said he wasn't the marryin' kind. That pretty much siezed me up. I never even thought about marryin' anyone before that. Now it's in my mind and I can't make it go away.
"A man'd have to be a fool to turn down that face." Kathleen drawls.. she's a woman and she's no fool, she's never turned down that face either. "But Jesse's a different bird. Ain't just a matter of th' unfortunate situation with his eyes. But the kid seems to really get by with his other bearings. It's a pity he wasn't wanting to take yer kindness." Kitty says, meaning it. "But he's beholden to some kinda… I ain't knowin' what it is but let's just call it a 'code'. A code up in those there hills." She sighs gently, "I think they keep to their own… not in that way but they have a.. fuck, I don't even know where to begin." She can be felt shrugging, though her stomach muscles twitch beneath the pleasant touch.
"Yer right to wanna be good to the kid… there ain't nothin' wrong with trying to be a friend. That's what I've been doin'.. I ain't feelin' quite the way you're feeling, wanting to be held, but if I were to have a little brother he'd be the best kind. I watch him when he's here though, ya prolly saw that he can't quite get over the feeling of being in a warm, safe house. I think if yer wantin' to get closer to him, even if he ain't the marryin' type.. ya let him feel the comforts of a home."
The latter phrase surprised Kitty, though, and doesn't. Her hand moves to trace the back of 'Ray's' hand as he traces her. "Funny how that works.. people barkin' on about clocks tickin' but when all is said and done, the thought grabs ya and won't let go. I get that way about birthin' kids."
Wolf runs fingertips around Kathleen's bellybutton, slowly, as not to tickle. "Yeah, he said he can't marry anyone who ain't part of the hill clans. And that Clyde would arrange it for him. I'm a city kid. I ain't heard of that outside royal families and… I dunno. Jewish families sometimes." At the 'birthin' kids' comment, Wolf goes quiet, and the hand goes still a moment, before continuing, fattening out to cup whatever belly underfed Kathleen might have. Or at least where it would be. Wolf can't have children. Nor sire them. It's a conversation he's had with Kathleen before.
The carpenter is as lean and rangy as she's always been, that which she does eat converted into lean muscle thanks to her physically demanding work. The curves that most women so coyly squeeze into pretty dresses are very subtle in her form, and it suits her. The belly is a sensitive spot and Kathleen bites back a chuckle as the touch closest to her bellybutton tickles her some. "It ain't even backwoods, either… even in Tennessee." She snorts, the one chuckle escaping her. "There's somethin'… Clif ain't one to talk at length about the workins' up there, being a city boy himself, but even looking at him.. I can just tell that he's tied to it all too. I think I got whiff of it when Maddie got designs on he and I becomin' something more." She exhales slowly, not seeming hurt by it.
"To each their own I reckon, but most love a good mystery… it's hard not t'be intrigued." Kathleen near-whispers as her stomach is held. "Thing is, deep down, I ain't wantin' kids… it's kinda like yer feelings on the marryin' bit. Ya ain't feelin'.. pressured by it, are ya?" She asks, looking at him in the dark. "Is it drivin' ya mad?"
Wolf draws the hand back up to trace along the bottom of Kathleen's ribcage, thinking about Cliff being born in the city. He blinks a little and chuckles. "Maddy decided you and Cliff should be a couple?"
"A'yup.. or she thought we were on the way t'being such." Kathleen shivers again, "I can see how.. we tried t'be as careful as possible with our goin' ons.. but Madeline ain't stupid. But she is a preteen girl and given to romantic crap and she just read between the lines. She outright asked Clif if we had somethin' going on while I was laid up in the clinic. I'm sure the poor bastard just about jumped through the ceiling." She laughs in her throaty way, "He ain't the marryin' kind, and I just never pushed or asked. He's a damned good friend, who works with what he can til' that head honcho up there has to pair him up with someone. I can't quite believe that's how it works, do you?" She asks, then continues, "I just wish poor Jesse had the ability to let himself have a bit of fun… but he strikes me a bit like Maddie, likin' the wholesome side of things. Is my guess."
Wolf nods. "Yeah… comes to it, I could see him marryin' her once she's old enough. If she were hill folk. They are a lot alike, now that you mention it." He draws his hand upward along Kathleen's ribcage, feeling the corded muscles, and where the flesh goes softer again. "You think maybe I need a little brother more'n I need a boyfriend?" It's not fair of Wolf to ask that question now, in this face, holding Kathleen like this, and he knows it, but… he trusts Kathleen completely. The slim carpenter is literally the only person on the planet Wolf can say that about.
The carpenter sputters.. it's a funny sound. "Her — Maddie?" More startled than anything, she guffaws laughter briefly. "Fuck.. stop making sense. I don't wanna be chasin' Jesse Walker with a nailbat. But somehow I couldn't bring myself t'do so because I like the kid too much—" She pauses briefly, melts into the roving touch. Her hand moves to once again rest atop his hand, holding it there. Heart trips along, soundly. "Wouldn't ya know the kid switched her allegiances. she had moon-eyes for Cliff for a bit, but then along came Jesse.. Maddie adores him. Sweet holy Chr**t don't let th' notion of she and him bein' compatible get into her head.." Said jokingly, though. Maddie is yet too young; Jesse has his born and bred rules. It's still cute though.
Kathleen considers the question, and Wolf is — again — right to trust the blonde in this moment. "Well, depends… ya ain't wantin' to be lookin' at the little brother figure an' still be dealin' with the… itch… so t'speak." One can just feel her sly grin. "What do you feel in yer heart and guts, when ya look at Jesse Walker?" Asked as she traces his fingers, one by one.
Wolf nuzzles Kathleen's neck and whispers "I don't know. I ain't in the habit of listenin' to my innards other than my stomach. We're still learnin' to talk to each other. He leans over to nibble her earlobe, and it's likely the conversation breaks down for a while.
Cue the wobbly fadeout and the saxaphone music…
When we fade back in, our heroes are snuggled, face to face this time. Wolf's panting a little, skin wet with persperation. He brushes his lips to Kathleen's. "Sometimes…" he says slowly, as though the previous conversation's been on his mind throughout, "I feel like I'm still a lie. Even with you. Even though you know this ain't…exactly me."
It's a good thing 'Ray' shoots blanks, lest Kitty's lament of unbidden baby fever become a true concern. It gets harder to talk for a time and the two deal with the circumstances, and once all is said and done, they're nestled back together, albeit with more perspiration involved. At least they can think clearly again!
Still calming her breath as her heart slows it's beats, Kathleen considers as she is kissed, and in-turn she returns the gesture tenderly. Kathleen is much cuddlier when her wagon has been fixed. c.c
"I ain't seein' ya as a lie because ya told me most everythin' …. ya ain't leavin' me to wonder any one thing. Yer faces are like another aspect of th' same person. Yer like… pieces of a personality come to life. That's how I understand it." Kathleen is still panting a bit, blood returning to her brain. "So on the previous tangent… ain't nothin' wrong with lookin' for a boyfriend. It's all part of figurin' out yerself… there are things I can do for ya as a lady t' substitute, but there's somethin' to be learned from the real thing. Ya know I'll support ya, however ya go about it… right?"
Wolf rests his forehead against Kathleen's, and thinks about that a little while. "I trust you." As he says it, he shifts, body losing that comfortable bulk and smoothness. Wolf, now she, takes a slow breath and opens her eyes to look at Kathleen. Kathleen has seen, yes, and now it's dark, but still. Wolf, in her natural "Bernadette" face, goes on resting her forehead against Kathleen's. "I hope you don't mind," she croaks. "I don't like t'even look at my real self, but…I don't want t'hide what I am from you."
There's always going to be that instinctive part of Kathleen — the knowledge of what is 'natural' and what is 'different' — that caused her to experience but a second or two of surprise, everything Wolf changes faces. She isn't even truly aware of her mind doing this, but it happens. It's like an animal's natural fight or flight reaction; no, Kitty isn't about to do either, but the subconscious mind works in interesting ways. Wolf becomes Bernadette and Kathleen's hands, deft where her eyes are compromised in the dark, lift to start their own roving, careful exploration of the other woman's form. She will stop the moment she feels any nuance of discomfort or 'do not want' in Wolf's mannerisms.
The presence of Wolf's forehead against her own is noted and appreciated.. now the two of them are in some manner of a 'like' shape: long, lean, angular… though Wolf has a few inches over Kitty.
"I ain't mindin'.." Kitty offers, "I'm not what th' town considers conventional to begin with. Why would I bring the town's way of thinkin' into my house? It took some bravery for ya to show me everything in the beginning, and to admit to me one tumble ago what ya had t'do to get the job done." Seducing both genders. Kathleen's fingers trace scars, moving along an upper arm. "Were.. are ya.. some sort of gun for hire?" She asks softly. She never really went there before. She knows Wolf has been hunting the being that did this to her… but still… layers, right?
Wolf slowly, hesitantly brushes her battered lips to Kathleen's again. "I worked for the Church. Hunting witches. The Church is all too aware of the uses of seduction for gettin' people to talk. Thing is… because I worked for them, I got… forgiveness for all the things I did, for bein' how I am… so long as the mission got done. It suited me. It suited my desires… hiding my real self, looking from the outside, sex, violence… I worked for the Supreme Congregation of the Holy Office. Which used to be called the General Congregation of Universal Inquisition. They brought you the Spanish Inquisition.
A low whistle announces Kathleen's response to exactly what Wolf was involved with, before coming to strange, strange (though perhaps not the worst that Wolf has witnessed) Higsi. That careful touch, devoid of lasciviousness and instead, moving with a need to simply reassure and be close, mirrors that which Wolf had done to her in the 'Ray' guise'. She passes along where each individual rib would rest, beneath skin. "D'ya.. think… witches would ever be in Higsi? Would come here?" She asks, her tone…. surprisingly innocent. It's as she can't believe things that go bump in the night could ever come here. Oh if she only KNEW!
"Is th' Church always watching? Do people know yer here?" She asks, not an ounce of suspicion. She is purely curious, as curious as her fingers.
Wolf trembles a little at the touch. It's not like it feels any different than in one of her more presentable faces. Not in any skin sense, except that her scars tingle sometimes when they're touched. But it's not that. The faces were always a separation, a barrier, editorial distance between Wolf and real intimacy. Which is why she's here now, deep under the covers, bare as the day she was born with someone she trusts, and the touch hits her as though nobody's ever touched her in kindness before. She blinks her eyes closed and takes a few breaths, trying to keep her focus. "I have no idea what's goin' on in Higsi, to be honest. I've had to hit the books just to know what I've seen so far. Demons…definitely the one I shot with that crossbow at the Gallows, and maybe the one who made the mess on the porch. I haven't seen any witches, nor any obvious signs of any, but witches with any brains keep things subtle. And contrary to Church doctrine, not all of them work for… well let's just say Hell. It's complicated, and there's no guarantee that what I was taught that I ain't seen is even correct. Some of the stuff I studied goes back a thousand years."
"As for the Church always watchin'… well. They try. Problem is there are witches in the Church. Which is how I find myself excommunicated.
The slender carpenter hasn't anything to offer on what she could suspect, in this strange little town that she loves so well. She is aware, too, of Wolf's response to her careful, caring touch. Work-roughened fingertips lift slightly at the first tremble, but once she is certain Wolf is okay with her… they continue, roving further up. Where there should have been a swell, Kathleen may be in for a surprise all-the-same. "The demon that hit my house," She says in her low, husky way, "Dead. Clif and I found him… poor kid offed himself t'escape the thing that had his mind." It's all she can say. What could have happened to the demonic spirit, she cannot — will not — even surmise. It's beyond her scope. "Clif and his artist friend did up an obituary for him awhile back to give closure. Ain't seen nothin' since."
She goes on touching, silently stomaching what she is hearing about this 'Church'.
Wolf sucks in her breath, trying hard not to let her discomfort at this kind of thing with this face get the better of her… but she does flinch. Quite a bit. She moves her mouth a few times, trying to form words, but only manages to whisper, "Gently…" is all she gets out. "Sensitive… very…very… sensitive." She grits her teeth fighting back at the disgust for her body that comes on in waves. Kathleen is willing to touch it. That's worth something. But it's hard for Wolf.
Where is… There's no…. no..
To Kitty's credit she doesn't seek; does not splay her fingers to find or explore. Perhaps the ridge of scarring tells her all she needs to know. Who did this.. who cut off…
A jolt of shock, a wave of rage at whoever did this… and protectiveness. Kitty doesn't know the whole story, she is acting entirely on the here and now, and her hand abandons all exploration. Her arms instead reach out to encircle the rangy scarred woman and pull her close, hugging her in and against herself. "M'sorry. I shouldn't have—-it's okay." Her heart thrums along, but she eases up in what she thought was just an intimate roving of her hand. "Did that hurt ya? I'm really sorry." Kitty says into her hair as she hugs her close, if willing.
What did they do to her?!
Wolf clings to Kitty. Her question gets a tight chuckle. "You didn't… hurt me, no. It's like… nipples, I guess. Just that… it brings a lot of other stuff with it that's hard for me. I'd blame the witch… but… she didn't start it. Just made it worse." Wolf takes Kathleen's hand and kisses it softly. "But I trust you. You can touch…whatever you want. Just don't feed the mouths blood, or anything like it, or I change faces. Spit doesn't work. I tried it once.
Oh. Oh. Kathleen is simultaneously fascinated and startled. "So it felt good… so, uh.." She can be felt blushing, still wanting to take care. Not out of distaste, just a desire to not discomfort the shifter further. "If it felt ok, what else ya wrestlin' with? Is it shame?" She hazards a guess, still simply holding the other woman tightly and reassuringly. "Blood.. so any blood? Same result or… if I were to, uh.. if I had a cut on my finger and it ended up in the mouth—-" So strange, but she's trying to comprehend. "Would you become me? One of yer other faces? Or a new one altogether?" It's so creepily fascinating!
Wolf shakes her head. "If she'd completed the ritual maybe. I was rescued about halfway through, so the faces you've seen are the only ones I have." She gently cups Kathleen's cheek in her hand. She takes a slow breath, and her eyes grow cold and hard as she pits her will against… well, herself really. She takes Kathleen's hand and pulls it under the covers.
The woman listens but is still careful and unsure, not wanting to hurt or scare the other. Only when Wolf takes her hand, gives her the permission to explore further, will Kathleen elect to do so. Her eyes are wide and watchful in the dark rivetted upon a patchwork scarred face that she cannot see entirely, but can feel.
And so, with the face-shifter's permission, Kathleen moves onwards. She does so in a way that is neither too thorough, nor is it too flippant. Care is taken and shown in every centimeter covered. In the five minutes it takes for the carpenter to discern what she needs to know, she knows one thing. Kathleen does not know voodoo or magic or rites; she does not know how to combat them all or to go up against Churches and witches and all of those supernatural fuckers that like to cause trouble and make people hate themselves. But she can do one thing.
The hand moves up, splays across Wolf's shoulderblades, and she presses her mouth firmly against 'Bernadette's'. That should say it all.
Wolf squeezes Kathleen very tight, with the same strength as Ray over narrower shoulders and kisses back deeply, trying to keep tears from dripping into the process. She stops when she feels her nose starting to run, and untangles one arm to hunt for a handkerchief. Or one of those newfangled kleenexes she bought boxes of last time colds were going around in the house..
If she can find neither, Kitty will offer up her discarded shirt from the floor. Hey, it wipes, it works! Her wry smile can be felt before she delves back into the motion of reassuring Wolf once and for all. Perhaps.. even veering into round three! But only, always, at Wolf's discretion. She will stop on a dime the moment body language tells her to. All-the-while, through the search for something that Wolf can use to wipe her nose, Kitty doesn't miss a beat.
She just knows, for sure, that Wolf will be protected. Even against that which Kitty herself cannot even explain.
There is a round three, once Wolf stops sobbing, wipes her nose, and shifts faces to Raphael. She relaxes into it, into a body she doesn't hate, and tries to show Kathleen just how much all this has meant to her. Or at least show the carpenter a good time until neither of them can see, speak, or stay awake.
Cue the wobbly fadeout and more saxaphone music. And roll the closing credits.