Post by ANGEL ALESSI on Aug 19, 2013 1:26:23 GMT
The sun was beginning to set, the light golden and the shadow at Angel’s feet looking especially leggy as he walked. He had no destination save for as far as possible from Nevada and his stupid penthouse, though it wasn’t long until the infallible solution occurred to him – alcohol. Infallible as long as he could get his hands on some, but he hadn’t taken anything but a light jacket against the evening chill, not his phone and not his wallet with Nevada’s credit card; so his endlessly flowing river of money wasn’t as his disposal.
But even before Angel had money, he had had friends. Some richer than others, and he steered himself towards the casino. It was a long walk, and being alone with his thoughts was both maddening and refreshing – in the end, he hadn’t really thought up much other than Cass is definitely going to want to hear this.
Slot machines clanged, roulettes clicked, people shouted and laughed and chattered and clinked glasses, and Angel paid none of it any mind. The noise and mess of his mind was more than enough to keep him occupied. Nobody stopped him striding into the back rooms. If anything, he would be a pleasant surprise.
Angel stretched out on the couch, discarding his shoes, wiggling his toes which didn’t quite reach the other armrest. He was tall, usually. He was a boy, usually.
Yeah, Cass was gonna love this. All Angel wanted was some booze in exchange for this one hell of a story he had to tell.
Last evening, last night, a good part of this morning. All the memories since her unumbered round of liqour were mashed up into a blur of flashing lights and bad music and body shots. She fell asleep at her typical bedtime, on something that wasn’t her bed even though she did woke up on it. Cassiopeia couldn’t care enough to try and remember how that happened.
Hangover was always the worst part of the day, but although that was no longer an issue Cassiopeia was still feeling a little cranky. A long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes only made her mood slightly better. Maybe it was because of the paperworks she’d have to deal with soon after.
Angel's unscheduled visit was very much appreciated. A heartfelt smile tugged at her lips upon the sight of the streaks of blonde hair peaking over the armrest. Cassiopeia turned after stepping inside, to the assistant who was gingerly following the heiress. "Well, seems like I have a guest to entertain. These will have to wait." She added the thin folder on top of the two three-ring binders in his arms with a tone a bit more enthusiastic than a responsible business owner should have. Not that she was really responsible.
The man new better than to stick around longer than he was needed. Cassiopeia sauntered over to the sofa, arms folded over the backrest as she leaned over it to greet Angel properly. "So, what brings you here, princess?" She giggled, "I mean, other than my obvious charm and good looks." The joking attitude faded slowly thought the smile remained. Something seemed off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet.
Angel didn’t have to wait long. He heard footsteps and didn’t bother to sit up – he was certain it would be Cass, and so it was. Of course she would never put business before friends, and within moments a sheet of white hair was falling around his face, a pair of red eyes peering down at him.
He smiled for a second, in greeting, before his expression returned to more of a pout. Almost a scowl as his hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up his chest wordlessly, cloth over his face for a moment. It was easier to show then tell. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
He wasn’t embarrassed – half the southside had probably seen him naked by now, never mind Cass. Mostly disgruntled - Angel barely pushed a b-cup. Still, it wasn’t a difference Cass would miss, and he yanked his shirt back down to cover himself after a few seconds.
He looked up at her with lips pursed and a brow raised as he waited for her response.
”Bottom too.” He answered before she could ask.
Of course Cassiopeia’s first instinct was to touch it. Look but don’t touch was a stupid rule.
A tentative poke, then a firm squeeze. Even with a layer of fabric in between the fresh was soft in her hand. She wasn’t sure how to react. Her lips parted and closed a few times, nothing but a quiet “fuck” slipped out. The lingering hand was down to Angel’s naval before Cass pressed her other palm over it to stop herself.
“What the fuck happened?” She scurried around the sofa, taking up the edge near his feet. The look on her face was more curious than alarmed with the quirk of a single brow. It couldn’t be that long since she last saw him. Her. Whatever. “Let me guess, you ate something radioactive.”
Though she was beginning to lean towards another possibility. Genderbending couldn’t be that much work for those so-called divinities.
Angel flinched a bit, though it had very little to do with actually being uncomfortable with Cass as it did his own new body. It felt weird to feel her hands all over parts that hadn’t been there before, especially such newly sensitive ones. To keep himself from slapping her hands away, he slung an arm over his eyes, letting out a loud, melodramatic sigh.
He didn’t bother with moving his legs to make room for Cass, he only heaved another sigh. Normally he would have been all for experimentation, but he wanted it made clear he wasn’t in the mood. His mind was still racing to catch up with everything that had happened today, never mind how to explain it.
”Long story,” He groaned, turning over onto his side. Of course, they both knew he would tell it. His hair hung over the edge of the couch, almost to the floor, head lolling as Angel looked down the couch at Cass.
”Bird ladies.” Angel said, a hand dangling off the side – pointedly empty. If that wasn’t an intriguing start he didn’t know what was. He just needed a drink. Not to get his thoughts together, but to verbalize them, in all their disorder.
Cassiopeia always had time for stories. Quirky, messy, interesting ones. Stories without a happily ever after were her favourite kind. She propped an arm on her knees and leaned down her cheek in turn. But this shouldn't be too bad.
There she was, all ready and waiting very patienty, then he just popped out two words that barely made any sense. "Mhmm." because 'bird ladies' explained so much. This two words got her slightly more enthusiastic, though, and her mind wondering back to that silly little competition with the pegasus.
The albino's eyes shifted thoughtfully before pausing, "You want something to.... jog your memory a little?" She stood up before getting an answer, tapping her torso, trying to remember where she put that brandy. It was Angel, she didn't really need an answer.
She found the half-full bottle rather quickly - after going through a couple small cabinets here and there - and started pouring the liquor into a glass. "I doubt bird ladies did this to you, so don't spare any details." She peered over the bar with a coy smile, then as if she had an afterthought, muttered tentatively to herself. "Angel...la?...Nah, Angel is perfectly fine."
Cass was definitely a good friend, because she didn’t even need to hear the answer before she went for the liquor. That was enough for Angel to sit up, curl his legs beneath him and watch her pouring it out, licking his lips as it pooled at the base of the glass, delectable. Cass always had the good stuff.
He wrinkled his nose at the reminder that he was in fact a woman. Though he was fairly certain Angel was a unisex name – people could go on thinking he was a girl even after he introduced himself. Women’s clothes and make up and jewelry was all well and good, but the fun stopped once it was more than just dress up. When it didn’t feel like a child wearing his mother’s pumps and lipstick. When he couldn’t wipe off his make up and take off his clothes and be back to normal. He actually liked being a boy, preferred it.
Still, he probably wasn’t as upset as any other man would be. At least Angel had some idea how to be a woman. He had no idea of when, if ever, this would wear off.
One final, hefty sigh, before a glass in his hands and a long swallow sent the tale spinning.
That was the way to describe it – spinning and churning and twisting, because Angel was no talent when it came to storytelling. He forgot things, he went back and corrected himself, he repeated things, but he got the big points down, each one punctuated with a gulp of brandy.
That he and Nevada had been out shopping, that there had been some woman in the sky, that they had both been turned into women (and that yes, Nevada was a hot chick), that ugly winged women had swooped down, after them. He had to pause, contemplate just how much he wanted to tell, before he swallowed down some more liquor and decided to plow through til the end.
Nevada had sacrificed himself to protect him, that Nevada said he loved him. And that now he was here and he had no fucking idea what next.
It still wasn't clear whether Cassiopeia would make a good friend or not, but she could damn well pretend to be an excellent one.
There wasn't really any contextual input. No one would expect her to give any. Just patience. Just the light nods and hums of acknowledgment at just the right intervals, signaling the blonde that he wasn't losing his only audience, pouring into his glass once then twice more. It didn't seem like a story one should tell with an empty glass.
Cassiopeia wasn't expecting to be caught with a surprise in the end. Not the transformation, not the monstrous bird ladies. It was what he finished with that made her brows raise and then pulled into a near-frown.
There was a pause as the heiress allowed the information to sink in. "Do you believe him?" She shifted, sinking deeper into the armchair with a sneer lightly veiled behind a lazy grin. The rim of the tumbler stayed touching her lips after a tiff. "A bit fairytale, don't you think. So do you love him, then?"
It sounded so simple, so idealistic, and so wrong. Please, love.
When he had finished all he could remember, Angel let out a tired sigh and tilted his head back, hair falling in a sheet over the edge of the armchair as he drained his glass. The alcohol settled in the pit of his stomach, left him feeling better for a few tipsy minutes.
Of course, Cass knew which part was the worst one, which one had already latched onto Angel's mind, refusing to let go. The real, pressing matters. Even the fact that he was a girl now didn't seem too big of a deal. Albeit, Angel was still a bit horrified – he didn't like the softness of this new body, and he hadn't even begun to think about the potential for pregnancy and the mess it was sure to make.
But tits and a pussy, that Angel could deal with. Love – not so much. And it wasn't like nobody had ever said that they loved him. Plenty of people had "loved" Angel, but never like this. They had never done anything to prove love, nothing but plenty of sex, maybe they bought him something nice, and they were easy to brush off.
"I don't know."
Nevada was an asshole, but he was admittedly… honest about most things. Angel didn't know why he would think to lie about this, of all things. Angel was too jaded, he was a prostitute for fuck's sake, and he didn't believe in love and soulmates and romance and Nevada had to know that much. Had to know that Angel wouldn't be charmed.
At the second question, Angel's head snapped up. "No." He didn't miss a beat, he didn't need to give it any thought. He didn't love Nevada. He loved his money, his penthouse, his dick, but not Nevada.
He twisted a bit, arched his back, stretched his arms before he settled back down to sit. "Why would he even say that?" He waved his arms, exasperated, outraged, desperate.
She just shrugged, quietly watching the blonde flail about, feeding off his misery.
People bore her when they become predictable; most reach the end of that road a little too fast for her liking. Then there were the rare few that could keep her guessing and hold the enigma. Nevada was somewhere in between, but it didn’t seem like it was the way things would stay. Not for long, anyway.
“Fear. Loneliness. Some sudden epiphany.”
Cassiopeia listed out plainly, looking away from Angel as she emptied her glass. “He was dying, wasn’t he? Maybe he was just trying to hold onto something. Anything. And you-” a slim finger pointed lazily at the other “- his latest item of obsession, just happened to be there.” The smile on her lips pulled into a full-blown grin, revealing a glimpse of the pointy canines.
Eventually she leaned back. Her legs slipped down from armrest, pulled closer to her chest. “It’s infatuation at best, sweetheart.” Cassiopeia finally said in a quiet whisper, detached, “but then again, what do I know.”
Angel drew in Cassiopeia's words with a sense of relief. He didn't believe in love, but he didn't know what to think of Nevada either. Still, it was comforting to hear the words from Cassiopeia's mouth. It didn't matter whether Nevada 'loved' him or not, it definitely wasn't going to last.
"Better get over it..." Angel muttered, frowning into his empty glass for a moment before he stood up off the couch, unsteady on his feet as he crossed the room, pulling open cupboards and peering into shelving, looking for something that he'd since forgotten about.
"If he's dying, I better be in his will somewhere." He said thoughtfully, finding a wad of cash in one of the drawers. He picked it up, scrutinized the money, then dropped it again. He reached in for the pack of cigarettes instead, shaking one from the pack, dropping a few more back into the drawer in the process.
Then he turned to look at Cass, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, empty glass in one hand.
"He's just so… fuckin. Weird. You know?" He said, waving his free hand around as he spoke.
@cassiopeia
But even before Angel had money, he had had friends. Some richer than others, and he steered himself towards the casino. It was a long walk, and being alone with his thoughts was both maddening and refreshing – in the end, he hadn’t really thought up much other than Cass is definitely going to want to hear this.
Slot machines clanged, roulettes clicked, people shouted and laughed and chattered and clinked glasses, and Angel paid none of it any mind. The noise and mess of his mind was more than enough to keep him occupied. Nobody stopped him striding into the back rooms. If anything, he would be a pleasant surprise.
Angel stretched out on the couch, discarding his shoes, wiggling his toes which didn’t quite reach the other armrest. He was tall, usually. He was a boy, usually.
Yeah, Cass was gonna love this. All Angel wanted was some booze in exchange for this one hell of a story he had to tell.
Last evening, last night, a good part of this morning. All the memories since her unumbered round of liqour were mashed up into a blur of flashing lights and bad music and body shots. She fell asleep at her typical bedtime, on something that wasn’t her bed even though she did woke up on it. Cassiopeia couldn’t care enough to try and remember how that happened.
Hangover was always the worst part of the day, but although that was no longer an issue Cassiopeia was still feeling a little cranky. A long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes only made her mood slightly better. Maybe it was because of the paperworks she’d have to deal with soon after.
Angel's unscheduled visit was very much appreciated. A heartfelt smile tugged at her lips upon the sight of the streaks of blonde hair peaking over the armrest. Cassiopeia turned after stepping inside, to the assistant who was gingerly following the heiress. "Well, seems like I have a guest to entertain. These will have to wait." She added the thin folder on top of the two three-ring binders in his arms with a tone a bit more enthusiastic than a responsible business owner should have. Not that she was really responsible.
The man new better than to stick around longer than he was needed. Cassiopeia sauntered over to the sofa, arms folded over the backrest as she leaned over it to greet Angel properly. "So, what brings you here, princess?" She giggled, "I mean, other than my obvious charm and good looks." The joking attitude faded slowly thought the smile remained. Something seemed off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it just yet.
Angel didn’t have to wait long. He heard footsteps and didn’t bother to sit up – he was certain it would be Cass, and so it was. Of course she would never put business before friends, and within moments a sheet of white hair was falling around his face, a pair of red eyes peering down at him.
He smiled for a second, in greeting, before his expression returned to more of a pout. Almost a scowl as his hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up his chest wordlessly, cloth over his face for a moment. It was easier to show then tell. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
He wasn’t embarrassed – half the southside had probably seen him naked by now, never mind Cass. Mostly disgruntled - Angel barely pushed a b-cup. Still, it wasn’t a difference Cass would miss, and he yanked his shirt back down to cover himself after a few seconds.
He looked up at her with lips pursed and a brow raised as he waited for her response.
”Bottom too.” He answered before she could ask.
Of course Cassiopeia’s first instinct was to touch it. Look but don’t touch was a stupid rule.
A tentative poke, then a firm squeeze. Even with a layer of fabric in between the fresh was soft in her hand. She wasn’t sure how to react. Her lips parted and closed a few times, nothing but a quiet “fuck” slipped out. The lingering hand was down to Angel’s naval before Cass pressed her other palm over it to stop herself.
“What the fuck happened?” She scurried around the sofa, taking up the edge near his feet. The look on her face was more curious than alarmed with the quirk of a single brow. It couldn’t be that long since she last saw him. Her. Whatever. “Let me guess, you ate something radioactive.”
Though she was beginning to lean towards another possibility. Genderbending couldn’t be that much work for those so-called divinities.
Angel flinched a bit, though it had very little to do with actually being uncomfortable with Cass as it did his own new body. It felt weird to feel her hands all over parts that hadn’t been there before, especially such newly sensitive ones. To keep himself from slapping her hands away, he slung an arm over his eyes, letting out a loud, melodramatic sigh.
He didn’t bother with moving his legs to make room for Cass, he only heaved another sigh. Normally he would have been all for experimentation, but he wanted it made clear he wasn’t in the mood. His mind was still racing to catch up with everything that had happened today, never mind how to explain it.
”Long story,” He groaned, turning over onto his side. Of course, they both knew he would tell it. His hair hung over the edge of the couch, almost to the floor, head lolling as Angel looked down the couch at Cass.
”Bird ladies.” Angel said, a hand dangling off the side – pointedly empty. If that wasn’t an intriguing start he didn’t know what was. He just needed a drink. Not to get his thoughts together, but to verbalize them, in all their disorder.
Cassiopeia always had time for stories. Quirky, messy, interesting ones. Stories without a happily ever after were her favourite kind. She propped an arm on her knees and leaned down her cheek in turn. But this shouldn't be too bad.
There she was, all ready and waiting very patienty, then he just popped out two words that barely made any sense. "Mhmm." because 'bird ladies' explained so much. This two words got her slightly more enthusiastic, though, and her mind wondering back to that silly little competition with the pegasus.
The albino's eyes shifted thoughtfully before pausing, "You want something to.... jog your memory a little?" She stood up before getting an answer, tapping her torso, trying to remember where she put that brandy. It was Angel, she didn't really need an answer.
She found the half-full bottle rather quickly - after going through a couple small cabinets here and there - and started pouring the liquor into a glass. "I doubt bird ladies did this to you, so don't spare any details." She peered over the bar with a coy smile, then as if she had an afterthought, muttered tentatively to herself. "Angel...la?...Nah, Angel is perfectly fine."
Cass was definitely a good friend, because she didn’t even need to hear the answer before she went for the liquor. That was enough for Angel to sit up, curl his legs beneath him and watch her pouring it out, licking his lips as it pooled at the base of the glass, delectable. Cass always had the good stuff.
He wrinkled his nose at the reminder that he was in fact a woman. Though he was fairly certain Angel was a unisex name – people could go on thinking he was a girl even after he introduced himself. Women’s clothes and make up and jewelry was all well and good, but the fun stopped once it was more than just dress up. When it didn’t feel like a child wearing his mother’s pumps and lipstick. When he couldn’t wipe off his make up and take off his clothes and be back to normal. He actually liked being a boy, preferred it.
Still, he probably wasn’t as upset as any other man would be. At least Angel had some idea how to be a woman. He had no idea of when, if ever, this would wear off.
One final, hefty sigh, before a glass in his hands and a long swallow sent the tale spinning.
That was the way to describe it – spinning and churning and twisting, because Angel was no talent when it came to storytelling. He forgot things, he went back and corrected himself, he repeated things, but he got the big points down, each one punctuated with a gulp of brandy.
That he and Nevada had been out shopping, that there had been some woman in the sky, that they had both been turned into women (and that yes, Nevada was a hot chick), that ugly winged women had swooped down, after them. He had to pause, contemplate just how much he wanted to tell, before he swallowed down some more liquor and decided to plow through til the end.
Nevada had sacrificed himself to protect him, that Nevada said he loved him. And that now he was here and he had no fucking idea what next.
It still wasn't clear whether Cassiopeia would make a good friend or not, but she could damn well pretend to be an excellent one.
There wasn't really any contextual input. No one would expect her to give any. Just patience. Just the light nods and hums of acknowledgment at just the right intervals, signaling the blonde that he wasn't losing his only audience, pouring into his glass once then twice more. It didn't seem like a story one should tell with an empty glass.
Cassiopeia wasn't expecting to be caught with a surprise in the end. Not the transformation, not the monstrous bird ladies. It was what he finished with that made her brows raise and then pulled into a near-frown.
There was a pause as the heiress allowed the information to sink in. "Do you believe him?" She shifted, sinking deeper into the armchair with a sneer lightly veiled behind a lazy grin. The rim of the tumbler stayed touching her lips after a tiff. "A bit fairytale, don't you think. So do you love him, then?"
It sounded so simple, so idealistic, and so wrong. Please, love.
When he had finished all he could remember, Angel let out a tired sigh and tilted his head back, hair falling in a sheet over the edge of the armchair as he drained his glass. The alcohol settled in the pit of his stomach, left him feeling better for a few tipsy minutes.
Of course, Cass knew which part was the worst one, which one had already latched onto Angel's mind, refusing to let go. The real, pressing matters. Even the fact that he was a girl now didn't seem too big of a deal. Albeit, Angel was still a bit horrified – he didn't like the softness of this new body, and he hadn't even begun to think about the potential for pregnancy and the mess it was sure to make.
But tits and a pussy, that Angel could deal with. Love – not so much. And it wasn't like nobody had ever said that they loved him. Plenty of people had "loved" Angel, but never like this. They had never done anything to prove love, nothing but plenty of sex, maybe they bought him something nice, and they were easy to brush off.
"I don't know."
Nevada was an asshole, but he was admittedly… honest about most things. Angel didn't know why he would think to lie about this, of all things. Angel was too jaded, he was a prostitute for fuck's sake, and he didn't believe in love and soulmates and romance and Nevada had to know that much. Had to know that Angel wouldn't be charmed.
At the second question, Angel's head snapped up. "No." He didn't miss a beat, he didn't need to give it any thought. He didn't love Nevada. He loved his money, his penthouse, his dick, but not Nevada.
He twisted a bit, arched his back, stretched his arms before he settled back down to sit. "Why would he even say that?" He waved his arms, exasperated, outraged, desperate.
She just shrugged, quietly watching the blonde flail about, feeding off his misery.
People bore her when they become predictable; most reach the end of that road a little too fast for her liking. Then there were the rare few that could keep her guessing and hold the enigma. Nevada was somewhere in between, but it didn’t seem like it was the way things would stay. Not for long, anyway.
“Fear. Loneliness. Some sudden epiphany.”
Cassiopeia listed out plainly, looking away from Angel as she emptied her glass. “He was dying, wasn’t he? Maybe he was just trying to hold onto something. Anything. And you-” a slim finger pointed lazily at the other “- his latest item of obsession, just happened to be there.” The smile on her lips pulled into a full-blown grin, revealing a glimpse of the pointy canines.
Eventually she leaned back. Her legs slipped down from armrest, pulled closer to her chest. “It’s infatuation at best, sweetheart.” Cassiopeia finally said in a quiet whisper, detached, “but then again, what do I know.”
Angel drew in Cassiopeia's words with a sense of relief. He didn't believe in love, but he didn't know what to think of Nevada either. Still, it was comforting to hear the words from Cassiopeia's mouth. It didn't matter whether Nevada 'loved' him or not, it definitely wasn't going to last.
"Better get over it..." Angel muttered, frowning into his empty glass for a moment before he stood up off the couch, unsteady on his feet as he crossed the room, pulling open cupboards and peering into shelving, looking for something that he'd since forgotten about.
"If he's dying, I better be in his will somewhere." He said thoughtfully, finding a wad of cash in one of the drawers. He picked it up, scrutinized the money, then dropped it again. He reached in for the pack of cigarettes instead, shaking one from the pack, dropping a few more back into the drawer in the process.
Then he turned to look at Cass, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, empty glass in one hand.
"He's just so… fuckin. Weird. You know?" He said, waving his free hand around as he spoke.
@cassiopeia
