#* fangmother.

[unlore]

well i did say / @fangmother

The presentation is very deliberate: Rosie shows herself to Rainer, offers, no holds barred. This means that the state of her is obvious: pussy a loose, half-prolapsed mess, urethra a thick line that evidences its regular expansion, ass a well-worked, clenching star just as experienced as the rest of her. She watches Rainer carefully, gauging response, feeling for the tell-tale shifts that will let her feel the emotion beyond the blankness of her face.

She wants this, wants the reaction: even if it is horror at what she sees, Zahrosa desires that reaction. Especially when she makes it so obvious like this. Not that propositioning Rainer is exactly new, but she is more than shocking enough for several occasions.

And nonetheless, the lust is real. Intense. Obvious in her eyes, even as she pulls herself wide with fingers wrapped around droopy labia. "I give you me. Few can boast the same, Rainer."

[unlore]

parades are for children and fascists.

@fangmother

"Aw, c'mon!"

Ankha takes this opportunity to throw the shell of a nut (walnut, cracked under the heel of her hand) at Rainer, watching it bounce off the skinny wolf of a woman with some amusement. "Where's your whimsy, huh? You don't wanna toot a horn once in a while? You don't like throwing stuff?"

Exactly which parades Ankhirmaa has been throwing stuff at will have to remain a mystery for the moment. It's not like she recalls the details.

"You're being no fun, Rainer. I'm gonna have to do something about it."

[unlore]

Every new technology necessitates a new war, baby.

@fangmother

Ankha groans, lifting her head a little just to thump it back against her arms, which are currently acting as makeshift pillow. She turns her head so that she can see Rainer, although the quickly-setting sun leaves them with little light to make anything out by. "Can they maybe stop inventing new technologies? I think this amount is, like, fine. They don't need any more."

One of these days they were going to try to fight the moon or something, and guess who would have to go and be there? Yeah, exactly. She didn't want to be cannon fodder in the space war, thank you very much, no matter how supposedly important the cause was.

There was always a cause. There was always a reason. It shook out the same in the end.

"I'm thinking, maybe we just chill." Not something she has been good at, historically, but this is as good a time as any to start. Right? "I could have a holiday. Just give me, like, a hot ten years or something, and I think I'll be good."

[unlore]

do you often feel violent toward people?

@fangmother

Cross turns over, propping her head up on one hand and watching Rainer with that dark, solemn gaze. There's a thread of almost-confusion winding through her expression, little frown creasing the skin between her brows as she considers the woman before her.

It's not really a strange question, as far as they're concerned, but Rainer asks and suddenly it seems silly to even think about.

"No. It's not like that."

They're still figuring out what it is like. The duty. The almost-divine bestowal of targets for simple, efficient death. Trying to explain it at all has been challenging. Cross flops down onto her back, hair spread across the sheets in a dark halo.

"I don't know if I ever feel violent toward people."

[unlore]

are you pretending?

@fangmother

Vega blinks, its pretty, pastel eyes wide as it regards Rainer. The answer to that little question is, it thinks that she must know, far more complicated than it might at first glance appear. Are you pretending? Everything Vega does is pretending, in some way. It is pretending to be the thing that lives in this body when it is little more than a usurper, a thief. It is pretending to be a thing that was designed to be a personality rather than a tool. It is pretending to be alive at all, according to many people. And that, particularly, seems to be worse than a sin.

But - the thing is - she doesn't pretend to be something she's not. It's just that most people don't understand what she is.

"No," it decides. "I don't think so."

And there's the crux of it. It thinks. It is capable of conceiving of this abstract idea in the first place, it is capable of understanding, it is more than a simulation of life. Whatever else might also be true, that certainly is.

She blinks, watching Rainer steadily, unflinchingly.

"Are you?"

[unlore]

Despite not being allowed idolatry, Rainer has her little rituals: namely, lining bullets on end in meticulous little rows before she loads them into clips, as if that little moment of order in a chaotic world will carry through to the end. Praying over them is crass, so she is silent, but the ritual matters.

@fangmother

Somewhere, hundreds of miles between them, Cross copies an oft-observed little ritual: lines bullets on end in neat, straight rows before they load them into clips, and wonders how it is meant to make them feel. Because it does make them feel something. A borrowed sense of control, perhaps, as though for a few seconds the world bends to their will.

They wonder if they look as calm, as collected, as she always does.

They think of long fingers, and of neon, and of their own pounding heart. Experiences, just for a second, a pang of longing so intense they feel as though they might throw up.

Cross fumbles the next bullet. Sends little, skittering metal slugs all over the table, rolling off its edge and onto the shitty carpet beneath. Any sense of calm she might have gleaned from the act drops away with them, a little sigh following. They get to their knees.

[unlore]

you learn to deal with it. of course, it is shit, but you learn.

@fangmother

Rosie's gaze flicks sideways at Rainer, sharply pointed, full of irritation that is, at least, more human than the ethereal infallibility she likes to project around him. "Why deal with it when you needn't? Don't be stupid."

Her fingers move deftly as she puts her hair into two long braids, pulled forward over her skinny shoulder as she comes toward the bottom.

"I will not deal with anything I do not wish to deal with. I will not compromise."

Nevermind rivers of blood, mountains of skulls, et cetera. That is a small price to pay for her fiercely-kept comfort. No one else will defend it for her, after all.

[unlore]

phones are how people reach you. nothing very good can come of that.

@fangmother

"For once, we agree."

It's not actually that rare for them to agree - but the point is that here, in Rosie's strange little cottage, isolated from the world by distance and magic, they are both safe from such things. Anyone who wishes to contact Rosie may do so via the post, magical means, or not at all. She will not be bending to this new, foolish fad.

It will blow over, nonetheless. These things always pass. Who could possibly think that the world will begin to change faster than ever in the next few hundred years?

"I will not be swayed on this."