There is a noisy scrape of wood grinding inside of a window frame as Mavis opens her bedroom window. She's wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy house robe in a rich shade of burgundy with the hood down and pooled atop her shoulders. The sleeves are overlong and cover her hands to the backs of her knuckles. Her pajamas are layered underneath. Flannels similar to Casper's but black and yellow patterned. A faded t-shirt with a loose, frayed cotton collar that hangs askance on her shoulders. Purple, fuzzy socks that match and cozy, brown house slippers.
Mavis climbs out to sit on the sill of the window, pulling her robe about her tightly in the chilly, night air. She fishes in a robe pocket for a packet of Camel Menthols and a black Bic lighter. The heavy, double-curtains to her bedroom are closed behind her and incense burns in her room. God, she felt like such a teenager. Rolling her eyes at herself, Mavis lights her cigarette after crunching the little bead in the filter after three flicks of her lighter.
Perched on a gargoyle, she might just happen to notice Casper staring out from the mansion. He is bundled up, having grabbed his jacket. He exhales cold air and seems to be shivering. Whatever is on that horizon, it appears to be just enough to make the small punk endure the cold just to peer blankly in its general direction. He pulls his jacket tighter to his person and is just about ready to dismiss whatever his fixation was and head back inside...
Mavis isn't shivering, not yet, but she's considerably warmer beneath all of her cozy layers. She sucks on her cigarette, sighing out a hazy cloud of smoke. This day had been a long one. She and Amity had found Casper on the side of the road, scooped him up, brought him home, fed him, clothed him, and lent him their couch to crash on. He was Lost, like Amity and like so many of those she'd grown close to since moving here. Something pulls her out of her ruminations.
"Someone there?" Mavis couldn't see his head from the windowsill, but she thought she'd heard someone. The night was quiet and still. It hadn't snowed, as she'd falsely predicted before. Mavis' head and shoulder peer over from the edge of the porch roof down at Casper, arm held out of sight with the cigarette hidden behind her back. "Oh... It's just you," she says to Casper in relief then wondering as if SHE were not hanging over the ledge of the roof, "What're you doin' out here?"
Casper snaps to attention and glances upward - green eyes wide and pale skin showing up in the limited lighting. Mavis was apparently above him, which was more than a little bit of a surprise, so much so that he nearly falls off the gargoyle he had situated upon! "Aaah! I, um did not think anyone up. Sorry. Just got a bit warm - and then I sat out here for a bit, and I started thinking. Then, I couldn't stop. You, uh, ever feel guilty for doing the right thing?"
Mavis considers him for a long moment after he asks that question, staring down on him with her face dark and hair loose and sliding to hang. She has a hand gripping the edge of the roof then that other arm comes into view. A puff is taken from her cigarette, she nods thoughtfully, and a moment later she admits in a throaty voice, "Yeah, I do. Sometimes, it's easy to do the right thing. Others... a whole lot harder." After a pause, she asks, "You want to come up? I think if you stand on that gargoyle's head then I could just pull you. Brace your foot there against the beam on the porch, just try not to stick it through the screen."
Casper's lips tighten for a moment and then stretch toward his jaw. The idea of falling was on his mind but he shrugged and nodded; Mavis could help him up, so he gives a small nod and slowly begins to climb. The focus on this activity prevents him from saying very much but, as Mavis has previously observed, he is absolutely on the smaller side - and lighter. It was probably warmer up there as well; heat rises and all that.
Mavis pokes the cigarette filter between her lips. Then, she reaches down to help him up, firmly braced on the chilly roof. It was, admittedly, a little slippery, but when Mavis came out here she didn't usually go peering over the edge and pulling people up to join her. Casper was as light as he looked and she figures he must be about Amity's weight. By contrast, the mortal is stronger than she might seem and soon Casper is on the porch roof with her.
Mavis carefully scoots back to the wide windowsill to resume sitting on it, scooting over to the side to leave space for Casper. It's a little warmer over here with the heat from inside of her room escaping with a whiff of that incense she has burning. She peers at him with silent perplexion, then asks, "What'd you mean? About doing the right thing earlier?"
Casper has an easy enough climbing up and getting situated. He glances over his shoulder to wear Mavis appears to have come from: her bedroom. He raises his brow and peers over, half-expecting to see a sleeping Amity. He does not immeditely spot the other Lost and shrugs as he attempts to balance against the window and find some footing on the wood pane.
"It's a heavy downer," he replies once he is comfortable. He peers at Mavis's cigarette and averts his eyes. He only bummed so he would not get hooked, and eh was not sure if he - "May I take a drag of that?" ...Thanks, brain. He glances out toward the horizon. "I... um... I don't know where to start."
Mavis moves aside the curtain to her bedroom, giving Casper a clear glimpse into the unoccupied room beyond it. She grabs her phone from a little vanity set inside on the other side of the wall then looks back at the freckled Casper with an arched brow.
"Oh," she goes then pulls her cigarette free of her lips and pokes the ember upwards. "Amity sleeps upstairs, has her room in the attic. We both like our space." In answer to his question, Mavis passes him the cigarette. "If you could not mention THIS to her-" The smoking. "-then that'd be great. Things have been a little.. stressful lately, but it's not her fault. I don't want her feeling shitty about me smoking again." She shrugs. It's silly, but there is it. The mortal had opened up to him just a little to start things off.
"Right on," Casper replies with a small nod and takes a drag of it. He glances outward toward the road - toward where they picked him up. "I heard that these are bad for you now," he says with a small shrug, keeping the cigarette for a second. A beat passes as he starts to consider his words. He clears his throat. "So, that right thing." He finally picks up that conversation, handing the cigarette back. "I... escaped."
"They were always bad for you. Doctors just know more about them now," succinctly notes Mavis, but she wasn't patronizing him. It was just the truth. She plucks the cigarette back and takes a drag while he speaks. "Why would you feel badly about that?" she asks, sounding honestly surprised. "The way Amity talks about it.. It must've been horrible and THEN you have to scramble back through the Hedge." It almost sounds like she's familiar with that space between this world and Arcadia.
Mavis picks up her phone out of her lap, covered by the fuzzy burgundy of her house robe. The screen lights up her face when she unlocks it and sends off a quick text to someone named "Widget" if Casper just so happened to catch a glimpse of the screen.
"Heh. They said shitty things about weed too, but we learned not to care." He shrugs his shoulders and peers outward again, taking a deep breath. He exhales visible air through puffed cheeks. "This is going to sound dumb, and yous girls are super cute and it made me..." He takes a deep breath, blushing and averting his eyes. He realizes when she mentions the Hedge that he can shift gears! "Um, how much do you know about us? It sounds like you know as much as I do - I just ran until I made it back."
She tilts her head and arches a brow at him. Mavis prompts Casper when he breaks off from the subject of her and Amity with, "It made you-- What?" Then, she shrugs her shoulders and turns her hips to lean against the inside of the window frame. Her nearest knee brushes against Casper's thigh, but she doesn't flinch back from the unintentional touch. "I dunno, I know enough," she tells him lightly. "Amity and I were dating for a little while before she came out and told me all of this, but before that... Mm-- I dunno, could tell there was something she'd been holding back." Mavis peers at him, blinking a little abashedly at him. "You know what I mean? This is all still pretty new to me, but.. I love Amity, so, it doesn't really matter. I'm glad she finally felt safe enough to share the truth with me, I don't think you guys do that too often."
Casper does blush when Mavis's knee brushes against him. He slowly curls up into a ball, bringing both feet onto the panel and wrapping his arms around his knees. He leans forward to further the shape and looks outward once again. "I... don't know. It pulls on my heart." He shrugs his shoulders when Mavis mentions the matter of disclousre. "I think we all go through different things. I don't know how long it was before I realized I even could run away. Like... it's pretty new to me too."
She faintly smiles, finding Casper cute in the way that he curls in on himself like that to become even more compact than he already was. That soft expression on her face turns darker with concern. "Well, you don't have to run anymore. The way I understand it," explains Mavis, pulling the cigarette to her lips to puff on it before speaking with smoke wisping out with her words, "is the local area's a Freehold and those guys sorta keep the peace. Don't shit where you sleep, don't expose yourself or be reckless in front of mortals. A lot of Lost have made this place their home, I think they'd defend it if it came down to it."
Casper lifts his head and slowly nods at her words. He listens to every word, commiting specific ones to memory. No need to run; freehold; other Lost; defense. It all sounds so wonderful. He glances outward again and leans against the window seel, not quite committed to uncurling. His lips press together for a moment, and he gives another nod. "...Mavis? ...Could you do me a favor?"
The mortal watches him with her warm, brown eyes dark in the moonlight. She was worried about him, but he seemed to be doing as well as could be expected. Mavis offers Casper a tight-lipped smile in return then blinks in surprise when he asks her that. She purses her lips, thinking about it before answering him, "Yeah. Sure-- I mean, probably. What is it, Cas?"
Casper takes a deep breath. He has already asked for the favor - he cannot cower back now. He curls back up, and glances toward the bed before looking back to Mavis. His face reddens and he closes his eyes as he is clearly mustering up courage. "I'm not trying to make a move or anything... I just, um... Would you... hold me for a little bit?"
"Oh," blurts Mavis when he makes that request. She glances back at the curtain, which catches a bit of wind in just that moment to move the curtains, and a sliver of her empty bed is visible. It's a mess, blankets and pillows all tousled about. She's blushing by the time she looks back at him, a ruddiness tinting the top of her cheekbones and running across the bridge of her nose. She thinks about it seriously for a moment, chewing the corner of her lip, and then the mortal nods while stubbing out her cigarette and placing it in an empty Coke can hidden under the window frame.
"Yeah, sure," she replies thickly. Something about the way he had asked that made her heart wrench up into her throat and made it difficult to talk about. "It's not really.. weird." Unexpected, maybe, and she tried to imagine how he must be feeling right now. Had their places been traded, Mavis would probably want to feel the safety of having arms around her too and her nearest arm slips around his shoulders, pulls him close. She draws his curly, red head down to rest against her chest where he'd be able to feel the steady beat of her heart and feel the fuzzy softness of her robe. That arm around his shoulders slides down to his ribs, curling to cinch him snugly against her until he was half-leaned with her leaning on the inside of the window frame.
"You don't gotta talk about it," she murmurs to him, tilting her head to try to glimpse down at Casper's freckled face. "It's really hard for Amity too. I don't know what to DO most of the time." She gives him an affectionate squeeze. "You smell much better, by the way. Good. And the clothes are cute, I'm glad they mostly all fit."
Casper breathes a sigh of relief. By now Mavis might have picked up when he is feeling stressed or uncertain - a reset and lower of shoulders, the slight flair of his nostrils as if he were keeping a breath on reserve in preparation for a rejection, the way his eyes train onto someone he is speaking toward and blink once the anticipation ends. All of these happen, and he frees his legs from the hoop of his arms as they part and he moves ensure that he does not slip off the pane.
When her arms wrap around him, Mavis will notice he thankfully smells thoroughly like whatever body wash was available. His hair, also, has a familiar scent to it - which might be a small relief. He went for Amity's shampoo rather than Mavis's; bonus points? His head does rest against her bosom, his eyes fluttering closed as he quietly notes the rhythm of Mavis's heart. She will also notice he is, well, squeezable. Soft. Yes, he is undeniably a human, but he seems to very nearly ragdoll against her. He remains in this light state - she could very likely pick him up!
"These are girls' clothes, right?" He asks, opening a single eye. The question lacks indignation; he seems just curious. "...I am too. Comfy."
She gathers him close and near, nuzzling the top of his curly head with her chin. He did smell nice and, yes, quite familiar. The soaps in the bathroom varied from feminine to masculine, Mavis preferring citrusy scenes and sometimes a boyish, fresh scent that smelled sharp and clean. There was an equal disbursement of both hers and Amity's soaps between the two bathrooms in the home just in case one ended up in the other or they wound up crammed into the same together. Her chest shakes when Casper asks her that about the clothes and Mavis gives a gentle laugh. It wasn't mocking, just amused.
"Sorta? I don't exactly dress, uh, girly by any means, but-- Yeah," she tells him, letting her fingers curl against his ribs. It was tempted to scoop him closer, perch him on her lap, but she doesn't and that's probably not the brightest thing to do while skulking about on the roof. "I'm glad you're comfortable, that's kinda what I go for when I get clothes. They don't exactly sell those briefs in the mens' department, though."
Casper remains perfectly still - light as a feather, stiff as a pillow. It occurs to him that he can pick up faint traces of that citrus - although it is accented/undercut by the smell of menthol. "You smell nice, too," he quietly blurts. "But I think Amity will smell the cigarette." He comes alive again and nuzzles against Mavis's chest, his face becoming very pink. Eventually, he shifts and - with some hesitation, wraps his arms around her. His hands behave similar to a puppet's on clumsy strings, slowly lifting up. Gradually, stiffly, he brings one hand to find her upper back, settling on taking hold of a shoulderblade over layers of clothing, and the other the curve of her back. He glances up toward her, lips pressed together.
"I, um, don't mind. I've had to wear dresses before. Ugly ones." He confesses with a small shrug. "Frilly, frumpy, patterned, hand-made, and layered. With baggy bloomers. Well... not quite wear," he admits on quick reflection. "These are comfy. ...Mostly. The... panties kind of ride up. ...And kind of cram. I, um, don't mind." He shrugs his shoulders and leans against her.
Mavis shifts to allow and aid Casper's arms circling around her, clinging to her almost. She didn't really feel... hit on... by his nuzzling or their nearness. There was no space left between their bodies, Casper about as close as he could possibly be given their seat on the windowpane.
"Yeah, I know I smell like ashtray," she admits and he'd feel her shrug her shoulders, "but I'll just blame it on you if she catches a whiff and freshen up before getting into bed." She holds him to her, their arms woven around another, and fingertips push into his hair. Mavis tries to scratch lightly at his scalp, using her nail-bitten fingernails.
Ohgeez. This was soft, warm, nice, and the wild curls spilled between her tawny fingers. Mavis listens to Casper while her fingers gently curl, uncurl.
"I don't have any clothes like that," she tells him seriously, no hints of amusement or airiness now. "Amity wears skirts and blouses, but-- well-- they're cute. Kinda bookish and nerdy, definitely not ugly. Tomorrow, we can go clothes shopping if you want. I need to grab some more winter clothes anyway."
"No. More like... burnt fruit?" Casper offers a small shrug and an attempt to make the scent somehow less egregious. When she suggests blaming him, he nods against her chest, "I will brave her for you, ma'am." His hair is pretty thick, but once she starts scratching he lets out a soft sigh.
"I don't have any money. What little I was able to put together was spent getting to Vermont. I don't think I'd look good in a skirt or blouse... But, we could swing by some thrift stores. I... usually end up in child Larges."
Slowly, he pulls from Mavis. "...I, um, I could stay like that forever - I should go and sleep. Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you..." He beams at Mavis, face near strawberry pink. Then he turns and hurries out of Mavis's room!
Mavis snickers as he says he'd brave Amity for her, but her girlfriend was far less invested in the health of Casper's lungs. Besides, did Changelings even get sick like humans? It was a question Mavis had never thought to ask Amity or November during any of their discussions about the Lost.
"Don't worry about paying for things. I shop at thrift stores for the most part," she remarks then grins at him when he pulls back. "Except for, like, underwear and stuff. I don't feel comfortable putting on a stranger's drawers." Mavis blinks at him then blurts, "Oh! Well, you're- uh- welcome. Anytime, really? I don't know what you're going through, but..." She's not sure how to finish that so Mavis just smiles at him helplessly before he scurries away.
Casper had quickly parted from Mavis, but then realizes he is not quite certain how to get back to the living room... "...Um, I... actually don't know where I'm going. Do you mind... showing me?" His face was still very pink and this time together had inspired a sense of earnestness in him. "I'll - we'll - we can - I can - the whole... thing. Later. But yeah, um... Yeah." He twists, and makes a few awkward hand motions. Nerves, hormones, a near visible high from being held.
Mavis peeks her head in through her window then swings her legs in to step into her room. She stands, turns around, closes the window shut and then faces the panicked ragdoll that'd fled from her room into the hallway. They hadn't shown him the upstairs yet and it's funny to Mavis that Casper has found it without taking the stairs.
"Sure," she says holding back a giggle and re-adjusting her robe that had been rumpled up during their cuddling and re-tying the fuzzy belt. Mavis loops an arm through his to lead him down the hallway. Her room was the last at the end on the left where a window glared out at the gloomy sky. She leads him back to the stairs, pulls him down them, and they're once again downstairs with the mudroom door closed in front of them, kitchen to the left, and living room to the right. They'd given him pillows and blanket to curl up with and the fire burns very low in the fireplace.
"You comfortable on the sofa?" wonders Mavis, peering at Casper while hugging his arm. She had noticed that his freckled face was flushed upstairs, but it was adorable really and he had no reason to be afraid of her. Not her, Mavis Octavia Baines, a simple artist living with her Lost lover. "It's late. Get to bed, Cas." Then, Mavis very quickly pecks him against the shell of his ear and he might catch a glimpse of her grin before she turns away to climb back up the stairs.
Casper gives a small nod. "Yeah... mostly. I mean..." There is some hesitation, his eyes shut tight and he gives a small nod. "Yes, ma'am." He smiled back to her, warm but oh-so-slightly forced. His heart was pounding; it was nice to feel warmth inside and out, to feel so-much-closer to, well, human. No knives, no screaming, no modifications; just contact and warmth. Vermont had a shitty start but it was starting to turn around, and his eyes flutter when she pecks his ear - she might even notice it was exceptionally warm! "Yes, ma'am, sleep well..." He quickly says, settled in and ready to pass out. Tomorrow was a new day, the start of a new life. No more running.
|
