Mavis zooms home after, belatedly, reading a text from her boss, releasing her from her shift early for the holiday weekend. She parks the old Ranger, hops out of the truck, and almost slips on an icy step in her haste to reach the house. The mortal can be heard tumbling onto the porch, flinging open the front door, quickly disrobing of winter gear in the mudroom, then hurtling out of it.
"Luuuuucy," booms Mavis' voice from just outside of the mudroom. "I'm hooo-ome."
->> +Fruit <<- Amity uses 4 of her temp Blushberries.
Amity sits in the kitchen. She has since November left managed to put herself together enough to remove the signs of the thrown coffee (Thanks for the magic stuff, November) but has yet to manage to do much but splash cold water on her face. She's still in pyjamas--pink and white polka dot fleece pants, Christmas red sweater, slippers--and at least she's managed to move over to sit at the table. She has a fresh cup of coffee, this one doctored with copious amounts of booze, and she sits staring at the table. She's not crying any longer, but her eyes are red and the signs of tears are still plain on her face. Her normally neat hair is disheveled and mussed. She jumps when she hears Mavis' voice. Doesn't answer right away, still not sure what she is going to tell her girlfriend. Finally, after thirty seconds or so of silence:
"I'm in the kitchen." She hates that her voice wavers. Hates it.
Mavis strolls into the kitchen, beaming ear to ear. That is, until her gaze lands on Amity sitting alone here in the kitchen looking like she hadn't run a brush through her hair. She moves over to the counter, stealing a glimpse at Amity out of the corner of her eye and says, while pouring herself a cup of coffee, "Sorry, November let me go early, but I lost my phone again." The mortal seems a bit sheepish about that and a little anxious about the atmosphere, but she keeps most of that out of her voice.
"Hi," Amity says in a quiet voice. She sounds small and constrained. Not the customer service Amity. Or the bold, cheeky Amity that Mavis and seen climbing out of her shell the last week or so. Or even the quiet, restrained Amity that she had probably gotten very used to over the last month or two. Just... small. "Lucky you," she says. "I'm glad. Did you find your phone?" She sounds a little distant. Looks it, too. Rather, she looks a mess.
"Well," goes Mavis, back to Amity and peering over her shoulder while she stirs sugar and cream into her coffee, "I found it, 'cos I saw the text." She pads over to the table, mismatched fuzzy socks muffling her approach, pulls a chair closer to Amity's and sits down, holding her coffee in both hands. After a moment, she crinkles her nose and looks down at her girlfriend's cup then back at her face, noting the red-rims of her eyes and the wetness at her cheeks. She reaches out in a sudden movement to cup one of those soft, tear-washed cheeks.
"Amity," she says, low and protective. Her eyes darken. "What happened?"
-> >> Amity to Here << <-=============================================
Rolled 1 Success
< 1 1 2 3 5 8 >
======================-> >> Manipulation + Subterfuge No Flags << <-
-> >> Mavis to Here << <-=============================================
Rolled 2 Successes
< 1 2 5 6 6 9 10 >
==============================-> >> Wits + Subterfuge No Flags << <-
Amity shakes her head at Mavis' question. She doesn't want to answer. Doesn't want to answer honestly. She's not ready to tell her everything. If she starts to try and tell her, it will all come spilling out. She takes a breath and tries to answer, her hands tightening around her coffee cup, almost white knuckled. When she's touched, she almost flinches away.
"It's nothing," she says in a quiet voice. "I fell back asleep and had a bad dream, that's all." Very convincing when she puts it that way. Especially when Mavis knows damn well that Amity manages something like 3 hours of sleep on a good night and almost never takes naps during the day.
That flinch, from Amity, sparks a nerve of hurt in Mavis. She brushes the blonde's cheek once and slowly drops her hand to the table, looking over at her girlfriend with worry and questions. But, then the lie comes tumbling out, and it might've been believable to a stranger. The mortal leans back, withdrawing her hand and snaking up Amity's cup of spiked coffee. She doesn't need to taste it to know it's heavily doctored, but Mavis takes a heavy swig. A shudder is the price she pays for it and she lowers the cup, shaking her head like she'd just drank ants. Yes. Ants.
"Mm.. Drinking in the day, that's not good," hums Mavis, thoughtfully. "Lying to your girlfriend?" She tilts her head at Amity, arching an eyebrow. "That's not good either. We both know you don't nap; I nap enough for both of us."
Amity lets Mavis take the cup of coffee, doesn't protest at all in fact. She just lets it happen, looking over at Mavis as she swigs from the mug which is probably half alcohol by volume. She does flinch though, when Mavis points out that she's lying. She swallows, her eyes dropping to the table.
"...It's complicated," she says after a moment, because it is. "Something triggered me pretty bad." That much is true, even if she doesn't go into detail about what exactly it was. How do you explain to your girlfriend that her boss reminds you of the thing that kidnapped you, used you, abused you for a decade. Especially when you barely remember that thing yourself.
Mavis draws in a breath and exhales it, slowly. Okay. They were getting somewhere. She feels a pang of guilt at having been critical a moment before, but it had provoked a truer response. The mortal nods, tucking her hair behind the shell of an ear. "Do you want me to make you an actual drink? That's.. Honey, it's awful," she tells Amity, reaching out to gently collect one of her hands to squeeze it. Still talking about the coffee, trying to coax a smile out of her girlfriend. "It really, really is."
She pauses, looks uncomfortable, and battles her curiosity until it wins. "What.. What triggered you so bad?"
Amity manages a quiet, weak laugh at Mavis' insistence that her coffee mixed with Jameson is awful. Which it is. "If you'd like," she says. "I... I don't really care as long as I stop feeling like this." God did she say that? It fucking hurts to hear herself admit it out loud but she feels so drained and wrung out that it feels silly to use her energy to lie about her drink. Then Mavis pushes and her faint smile flickers out like a candle in a draft.
"...Please. Don't ask me that. I--" She stumbles over her words, feels tears threatening again. "I don't want to have to tell you right now and if I do I don't know what that means for us."
"Jesus Christ," Mavis murmurs, unable to help herself from sounding absolutely awestruck. "You're.. being serious." This is said in a more solemn tone and Mavis doesn't get up, not yet, to make Amity's new beverage. She peers over at her, hands linked on the table, and weighs the Lost's words with care. This isn't something the mortal is taking lightly and she studies Amity for a glimpse of the answers, wondering what had reduced her girlfriend to tears in the kitchen.
"Amity.. Amity look," she sighs, scooting to the edge of her seat and catching the Changling's sorrow-stricken gaze. "I am not going to leave you," she firmly states. "You don't have to tell me right now. I just hate seeing you hurt like this and feeling so.. useless and," Mavis looks down then up again, "what if I trigger you 'cos I don't know? It's not something I'm doing, is it?"
Amity would laugh if she didn't feel so crushingly despondent in the moment. How could Mavis possibly do what November did to her? She's just a mortal. Just a nice, safe mortal who doesn't know a thing about the Fae world and really, Amity kind of wishes she could be like that too. That wish cannot be, of course. She swallows, her eyes dropping away from Mavis to stare at the tabletop. Breathe, Amity.
"You're not. Triggering it or anything, I mean." She takes a shaky breath. How does she explain this. "...It's to protect you. I know that sounds. Dramatic. But it's the truth! It's to protect you." She must sound crazy. And she's saying more than she wanted to, saying more than she really should but how is she supposed to get Mavis to understand?
Mavis prickles when Amity says that-- that she was doing this to protect her-- and she sits up straighter in her chair, putting a bit of distance between herself and Amity. Clearly, by the expression on her girlfriend's disapproving features, Amity had not said that right thing here.
"Protect me. Right," she says, flatly, and gets up to start making that drink. Mavis walks over to the fridge, opens it, and sticks her head in to grab a can of Coke. A bottle of rum is drawn out of the ice-box, a glass brought down from the cupboards, and ice dropped into the glass. "Funny, 'cos I'm not the one having a breakdown in the kitchen. I don't mean that harshly," she's quick to say, cracking the tab on the can of Coke with a hiss, "but you're not protecting me from worrying about you."
Amity winces as Mavis moves away. God. God, why is she like this? She buries her face in her hands for a moment, not sure what to say for do as Mavis begins putting together a rum and coke for her. It's a good drink. Simple. She takes a breath. Exhales. What is she doing? What is she doing? She shakes for a moment before she manages to summon something else to say.
"I know. I'm sorry. I /want/ to tell you. I do, I promise." She fumbles over her words, trying to find something else to add. "It's just..." She gropes for words. "You wouldn't believe me, either," she finally says.
"Maybe," admits Mavis, not sure of what she didn't know and, therefore, couldn't answer certainly upon. "I mean, I'd probably believe you. I want to."
Mavis finishes making the drink and returns to the table with it, setting it down in front of Amity and whisking away that disgusting coffee she'd spike. The mortal promptly walks over to the sink, turning her face away from the pungent fumes, and dumps it down the sink. She then turns on the tap, lets the water run a bit, cuts the water off, and walks back to the table to reclaim her seat. "How's the rum and coke? Going down smooth?"
Amity reaches out to take the rum and coke and doesn't really stop to sip it. She just picks it up and takes a few hefty gulps. Sweet, sweet alcohol. She sets the glass down with a dull clunking noise and looks up at Mavis as she returns. Tries to smile, though it doesn't reach her eyes. "It's fine, thank you." She leans forward, resting her head on the table. "I want to tell you. I'm just. Scared of what might happen," she mumbles into the wood. "It's so much to take in, Mavis. It's so much and I...I don't even know how to explain all of it."
Mavis reaches out to pet Amity's hair when murmurs with her head against the table. She tilts her own head, trying to get a better angle to glimpse her girlfriend from. The mortal's lips pull down at the corners, frowning. "Amity," she sighs. "Much as I want to know? I want you to be all right and, maybe-- just hear me out-- maybe spilling the beans when I've come home and found you slugging booze from a coffee mug isn't the best time."
The soft touch of Mavis' hair and the gentle, reassuring words strike a nerve somewhere inside Amity and she lets out a shaky sigh that turns into more of a sob. Her shoulders begin to shake as she cries again. She forces herself over, clinging to Mavis and sobbing against the other woman's shoulder. The Lost is letting all of this feeling out, despite how drained she feels the kindness from Mavis... well, it helps. "You're too good for me," she mumbles through her tears. "I promise. I promise I'll tell you one day. Soon. I just--I can't right now--"
Next thing she knows, she has a weeping woman in her arms. Mavis blinks and collects her girlfriend, scooting the chair's legs over the kitchen floor to get a little closer. She squeezes her, arms tangled around Amity and then a hand begins to smooth down Amity's back as she quakes against her.
"Shh.. hey, don't say that," she murmurs, turning her head to place a kiss against Amity's ear. "That's not true. I'm gonna help you see that one of these days. That is my promise back, okay?" She holds Amity tighter. "You gotta help me a little bit sometimes, though. C'mon.. Let's get you into a bath."
Amity shivers against Mavis a few moments longer. Mavis really /is/ too good for her. Kind and considerate and happy nad charming and generous. What has Amity done for her in return? At least that's what's inside her head. She tilts her head up and presses an awkward kiss against Mavis before she starts to get to her feet. "Yeah. Okay. A bath...A bath sounds good..." She stumbles a little once on her feet, looking as weak-legged as a baby deer. It's kind of... intense.
She kisses her back, smiling and ruining it, then helps Amity stand. Mavis doesn't let go of the other woman, loosening her arms around her and sliding them into the Lost's hands. She'd been out drinking with Amity before and knew the Changeling's tolerance was thin, but also the crying had taken it out of Amity. "Let's leave the drink," suggests Mavis, softly but with a sternness in the way she leads Amity out of the kitchen. "If you need something for your nerves still, I can pack you a bowl."
In the living room, she takes Amity by the arm and pulls her down the hallway, supporting her as well. She opens the bathroom door, moving into the room and turning on the radiator heater mounted against the wall. Mavis lets go of Amity's hand to go over to the bathtub to turn on the tap and stopper the drain. She turns around and perches on the brim of the old, claw-footed tub. "Waiting for the water to fill up a bit." It's considerably chilly in the bathroom and the tiled floor is icy. "Want me to get in with you? It's okay if you want to be alone.. I could go figure out dinner for us." Somehow, Mavis guessed that Amity hadn't eaten today. She poured James into coffee. That's not someone who remembers to make toast for themselves.
Amity leans heavily on Mavis as they head for the bathroom. Yes, her alcoholic tolerance is very, very bad and by this point in addition to just being exhausted in every way possible, her head is a little loopy from the drink. They filter into the bathroom and Amity leans against the sink as Mavis moves to fill the tub. "...A bowl? Like marijuana?" Oh right. "...God. Yes please." She cracks a weak smile, watching as Mavis fills the tub.
"I love you," she says after a moment. "Thank you..." She reaches up to try and wipe away tears. Stupid tears. Stupid. "I... Stay with me a little while? I just... Don't want to be alone in here right now?" Unspoken worries hang over the request. She doesn't want to fall asleep. Doesn't want... something. "You don't have to get in with me. But I want you to be here. I... You make me feel safe." Food? What's food? She definitely hasn't had any of that today except for some goblinfruit. Too busy disassociating. She slowly begins to peel last night's pajamas off, dropping them into a pile on the floor as her pale skin is revealed.
"I'll fetch my pipe and smoke in a sec'." Mavis grins wolfishly and tries to look sheepish. She hadn't mentioned her pot-dabbling habits to Amity, but this was a favorable response. The mortal moves both of her hands to the brim of the tub she's sitting on then almost falls back into it when Amity says that. I love you. She squeaks and quickly catches herself, the water roaring behind her suddenly the primary sound filling her ears as Amity rambles on. The mortal blinks at Amity after her recovery, waiting for the blonde to catch up to what she'd just said, but apparently that ship was a ship that had sailed and was a teensy speck on the horizon.
"Then I'll stay," she agrees, tone warm and smile pinned on her face. "I'm prob'ly not going to get in, but I'll give you a bath?" She makes that a query, lilting her voice higher at the end of her sentence while trying not to stare too hard at the disrobing Changeling. Bone-weary, grief-worn, there was something inexplicably beautiful and fragile about Amity in that moment. Mavis watches her closely, hands gripping the edge of the tub. She huffs, in a rush, "I'll be right back, okay?"
With that, Mavis hops up and squeeze past Amity out of the bathroom. There's the sound of her zooming up the stair case. A minute or two pass and then Mavis is back on the stairs, coming down, and then nudging into the bathroom with a wooden cigar box in her hands. "I've been keeping this in a box, in a box, inside of another box in the closet," she tells Amity and the reason is immediately evident as whatever's inside of that cigar box REEKS potently of sticky, ooey-gooey marijuana.
Amity is so out of it that she pretty much fails to catch that what she said was... a lot. Or that it hit Mavis that hard. She just keeps undressing. Slender and pale, with narrow hips and a small bust, she blushes just a little as Mavis looks at her--not that Mavis hasn't seen her like this before, but this seems somehow more intimate and vulnerable. She twists to one side, letting the other slip by, a dreamy little smile on her face. "I'd like that a lot," she says in Mavis' wake, then moves over towards the tub to bend over and test the temperature of the water. Warm. Lovely. She hauls herself wearily over the edge of the old tub and sinks down into it, practically disappearing into the damng thing.
When Mavis returns, Amity is leaning her head back against the chill edge of the dub, basking in the slowly rising hot water. Together with the radiator, the steam has made the bathroom a cozy little island of warmth in the big, cold house. She smiles up at Mavis--somehow she seems more emotionally open in this moment, stripped bare of protective layers of distance and polite stiffness. "You are a dear." She winces as the scent of the weed, but laughs. "No wonder... It stinks!"
"I know, right?" beams Mavis, coming into the bathroom to close the lid of the toilet and sit there. The way she says that, Mavis is elated and couldn't be more thrilled about the stanky weed.
She reaches over to turn off the running bathtub water, balancing the cigar box on her lap while commenting, "Shoulda added bubbles." Oh well. Those were supposed to be bad for you or something anyway. Mavis leans back from the tub, lifting her chin with an impish grin and lowered look down into the water. She flips open the box and picks up an orange and yellow glass pipe, tapping it into the bathroom trash-bin and repacking it. Amity probably didn't mean to say that earlier, she wasn't acting like she'd said anything amiss at all. Geez. Tip-toeing around the subject, Mavis asks quietly, "Bath doing the trick?" Without thinking, Mavis finishes up the bowl, brings the pipe to her lips, sparks a lighter that had leaped into her other hand, and hits it. Midway through her eyes go wide and she realizes that she'd just ran away with Amity's bowl. The mortal sputters, coughs out, "Oof- sorry- sorry," then pulls a long drag from the glowing ember to fill her lungs with smoke. She sets the pipe and lighter on the edge of the sink then gets up. Impulsively, the mortal leans over Amity and braces a hand on the far edge of the tub then leans down, grasps her by the chin and places her lips over hers. Her mouth urges Amity's to open and then she sighs out the hazy breath from her lungs into that kiss.
Amity watches as Mavis prepares the bowl of her baby. Sitting in the hot bath, close to Mavis, away from November... God, it helps. Some of the tension is starting to bleed out of her body and it's just... God, she is lucky, isn't she. She smiles up at Mavis. Nods. "God. Yes. The bath is helping a lot. Thank you so much, Mav." She giggles as Mavis coughs. "It's okay..." And then Mavis leans over to press her lips to Amity's. Amity parts her lips just as Mavis urges her too and inhales, filling her lungs with the pungent marijuana smoke. She leans back, coughs a little, and exhales a cloud of marijuana smoke. With the door close this bathroom is gonna make a /great/ hotbox. "...Give me another hit," she says after a moment. She grins and props herself up a little to make herself easier to kiss.
Mavis tilts her head back and leans away, giving Amity space to break away and sigh out the smoke. She's smiling, mischief alight in the mortal's honey-brown eyes and there's something catlike about the way she preens. "Okay, you little monster," she says, chuckling and settling her rump back down on the closed toilet seat to pick up her pipe and lighter off of the sink where the cigar box is balanced on the edge. She was all too happy to oblige Amity, gazing intently at her over the glass pipe while she sparks a flame. Mavis hits the pipe again, typical stoner filler, finger on the carb, puff-puff, off the carb, puFF, then she's replacing lighter and pipe on top of the cigar box.
She braces a hand on the closest lip of the tub, leaning over to hover above Amity's lips. The mortal's almost smirking, trying not to giggle and lose the smoke captive in her lungs as she remains tantalizingly _just_ out of reach of Amity's lips. When the blonde tilts one way, Mavis tilts the other, keeping a millimeter of space between their connection. Her other hand moves to Amity's shoulder, grips her there at her bicep, and pulls her up and forward, causing the water to slosh against the inside of the tub. The steam and heavy smoke around them swirls, a little smoke escapes Mavis' nostrils as she carries on this game of enticing Amity into chasing her down for the "hit" she'd wanted.
FTB 'cos late.
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