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st-charlotta :

She flushed at his phrasing, grinned despite herself, and found that she couldn’t contain the way that she smiled, nor the blush to her cheeks. Such words would never lose their splendor it seemed, would never stop affecting her as they did. And strangely, that was fine, she didn’t think she would have it any other way.

“I love you too.”

She had embarrassed him though, and then she had frustrated him, she had gone to far. Her flush became one of shame, and she tilted her head away, cleared her throat as she struggled for the right words.

“I’m sorry, that was-that was rude.”

He couldn’t help but grin with her response. It was always a fifty-fifty shot with Charlotta when he mentioned the word love. Either she blush deeply and grew too bashful, or she said it back to him. Today was clearly a day for the latter and it was those moments he enjoyed the most, hearing those words from her mouth.

Atticus took a deep breath, trying to bring his body back to a happy medium, before he waved her off. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry Lottie, I’m still just getting used to everything and how being in human form works.”

#c:charlotta #c #no text

sweetxlikexpoison :

Nodding, listening to the boy, Foxglove’s lips split into a sharp grin. “Not as often as I would like. A friendship, myself and the wolf, symbiotic.”

Then, taking another sip of his wine, he leaned forward, resting his head on a bridge of folded fingers. “My name is Foxglove. Foxglove Sweet, queen of Ursa Minor.”

Whoever this person was he spoke strangely and it made Atticus’ head spin as he tried to understand him. All he could gather was that they and Vespasien were friends.

With the introduction Atticus tried to decide whether the name was familiar, but decided only a description was. His master had never divulged the names of who he was tied to over on Minor. “I think Vespasien has mentioned you... kind of. I haven’t been over to Ursa Minor yet, the boss says I’m not allowed to go there alone.”

#c:fox #c

st-charlotta :

“You’re a hero to me.”

She sighed before he could continue, and then watched as embarrassment overtook him. Grinning, delighted with herself and her own antics, Charlotta leaned a little heavier against the bar to watch him try and clean at nothing. Shifting so she could catch his gaze, her grin broadened still, dimpled her cheeks, and she watched him with bright, pale eyes.

“I think you know exactly what I’m trying to say, Atti.”

“People like your father are heroes, Lottie. I just work at an inn and fell in love with the manager,” he said and the words only served to humble him further. He hadn’t quite known what a big thing it was when he confessed to her and mostly now it affected him because it affected Charlotta.

The gaze that caught his and the words flustered him more and he stopped rubbing the spot on the bartop to wring the rag in his hands. Then he dropped it and ran a hand through his hair. There were more and more feelings and reactions that he was learning as time continued to pass and most of them he had no idea how to deal with.

#c:charlotta #c

sweetxlikexpoison :

“A spirit!” With a gasp of excitement, Foxglove tipped his head to the side. Others were thrilling for him, and this new child in the wolf’s den was even more exciting. “The wolf has taken a spirit. Strange – bizarre. Uncharacteristic?” Shaking his head in thought, he leaned forward. “Atticus. Something crooked – oh, but, a handsome boy no less.”

“You could not pass along a message,” he struggled then, just over the rim of the glass, “as I have none. Simply visiting. Learning.”

Atticus almost jumped with the other’s exclaimation, looking at him a little cluelessly. He seemed to be excited by Atticus and his presence there and he wondered whether this was the first time the man had seen a spirit. “Bizzare? Is it? Vespasien saved my life - or at least, my existence,” he answered, his puzzled expression only deepening. “Something crooked?”

“Do you... do that often?” Atticus asked, leaning his hands against the counter. “Am I allowed to know who you are please?”

#c:fox #c

st-charlotta :

“My handsome hero.”

A playful snarl pulled at her lips before she pressed both hands to her heart, gave him a bright grin and fluttered her lashes. At his question though she laughed, his insistence that he was brave. Yet, she knew he was, what other sort of person would wander from the Impasse on their own?

“Perhaps. How drunk do I have to get you before you forget that gentlemanly charm, Atticus?”

He laughed lightly at her words, falling in further when she pulled the face at him. In moments like this he wanted to take her face and kiss her; he tried once out of frustration and his hands simply passed straight through her. He thought it ironic that he would finally emerge from the Impasse only to fall in love.

“I’m no hero Lottie,” he said warmly. With her question though his eyes went wide and he started choking on nothing, reaching for a nearby rag and rubbing at a random spot on the bar. “What are you... what are you trying to say Lottie?” If he could blush he would be bright red by now.

#c:charlotta #c

st-charlotta :

“There’ll be lots of biscuits too.”

Even unsettled as she was, her voice took a bit of a dreamy quality to it. A distraction surely, from the way she wanted to reach out and touch his skin, from how she wanted to be able to feel him just once. It had taken months to learn otherwise though, how she couldn’t and how she shouldn’t bother, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Mhm,” She nodded, smiling at him and shifting one honey auburn braid over her shoulder. “Dangerous stuff indeed. You’ll have to be brave for me and try it later.’

“But there’s always biscuits. I’ll make sure to get you plenty,” he said, she had always been a fan of the biscuits. He remembered the time she mentioned her love for them and he had turned up after his next break with a whole tray of them.

“I’m always brave,” he started, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Lottie are you trying to get me drunk?”

#c:charlotta #c

st-charlotta :

“Now wait a minute, you never said anything about food, Atticus!”

Her voice rang out in laughter, even tired as she was, and a guard on his break looked their way with a smile on his face. He was familiar from her brother, a squad member maybe, she could never be sure anymore.

He reached out to her though, and her laughter died near instantly, replaced by something sad on her face, fleeting and quick.

“Probably,” She mused, voice soft once more, and she dropped her gaze down to the bartop and the glasses she had been cleaning. “Dad got in a new recipe for alcohol, so we’ll see how that goes.”

“So does that mean I’m bringing you some then? I’ve already asked the cook to put the leftovers from breakfast aside - there’s enough for both of us,” he asked, his face brightening with her laughter as it always did.

When it died, he felt the now familiar, yet still completely unknown feeling assault his chest like it always did whenever Charlotta was upset or down. He couldn’t even count the amount of times they had gone to touch each other - a pat on the back, or a hug when the other was stressed - only to forget they couldn’t. Atticus found it strange considering he had grown up knowing this. But there was something about being out in the public that made regular human gestures want to be second nature.

“He did? This could be dangerous.”

#c:charlotta #c

sweetxlikexpoison :

Taking the wine with a soft hum of thanks, Fox swirled it around the glass idly before sipping at it, leaving a violet stain on the edge of the glass from his lipstick, though it didn’t seem to minimize the thick layer that remained on his mouth.

“Children, children, children…Could you? I’m not sure you could. Tell me about you.”

The way the other swirled the glass made it appear like he was some kind of conessieur and all Atticus could think about in that moment is that he’d have to pay special attentiont to the lipstick stain when cleaning the glass.

“Why don’t you think I could?” he asked, looking at the other curiously? “What do you want to know about me? Well, like I said my name is Atticus. Atticus Jones, and I live here at the inn and work under Vespasien because I am bound to him. What more can I tell you?”

#c:fox #c

st-charlotta :

“Not for a few hours, I’m afraid.” Leaning heavily on the bar, she grinned at him, something tired in the lines of her shoulders. It had been a busy morning, filled with people and more orders that she could barely keep up with, but the rush had died down to a near hush, and she took it readily.

“Why, is everything alright?”

“In that case I guess I won’t be getting some food for you as well,” he said, tilting his head to the side. He could tell the morning’s rush had had an affect on her. It had him slightly as well; he had never felt true tiredness despite his need for sleep until he had arrived at the inn. Almost automatically he went to reach out to her, but dropped his hand as he remembered he couldn’t touch her.

“Everything’s fine Lottie, I wonder if the evening will be just as busy?”

#c:charlotta #c #no text

st-charlotta :

Pausing to stare at him, Charlotta swallowed and shrugged slowly, mouth gaping for a moment.

“No? No, I think I just need tankards here, but some rags is always safe. Aren’t you due for a break soon, Atti?”

He waited for her answer, which seemed to take a couple of beats and he thought perhaps she was thinking hard about it. He nodded in response to tankards being the only thing after all, pausing with her question.

“Oh, uh, I guess I must be. It’s been so busy I’ve lost track of time. Will you have one after me?”

#c:charlotta #c

sweetxlikexpoison :

“Mmh, wine, if you could.”

“Are you the wolf’s child?”

“Sure thing, one wine coming right up.”

Pouring the other the wine, he placed it on the bartop before shaking his head in answer to the question. “No, that’s Arcade you’ll be looking for. Or Marlowe. I’m Atticus, I just work here I’m afraid. Can I pass on a message?”

#c:fox #c