#s. ic

[tomoshibi]

@curmoritor : Owen has been staring at the back of Shylock's neck for a while now- All she's been doing is washing the glasses at her bar. Maybe he's a little tipsy... but he can't help himself and before he knows it, he is biting her right on the back of her neck. (sorry he is never normal)

Shylock is oblivious, obviously; focused far too much on the monotonous task before her. One might question why she even does it herself, why not use magic? But there's something so cathartic about it, standing there with her hair down and parted over her shoulders and her shawl tossed to the side, sleeves rolled up, washing each glass with the perfect precision she demands of her establishment.

She doesn't notice Owen is there, not really... She's aware but it's something distant, separate to her task, in the background. She picks up the next glass and —

' Ah! ' Immediately drops it, breaking it in the sink. Did Owen — bite her?! Like some kind of animal?! Well, it's not like Shylock should be surprised. Or unused to it. But still! Jerking away she holds her hand against the nape of her neck and turns a frustrated expression to Owen. Though, look deep enough and it's tinged with a touch of amusement. ' Can you not control yourself? '

[tomoshibi]

@curmoritor.

Hand to chest in sweet agony; a pause, a flame. ' Must you stare? '

[tomoshibi]

@solivcgant .

' You look as though you need a rest, dear. ' Shylock says, smiling sweetly, summoning a small stool out of nowhere: and her pipe, full of fragrant herbs. That's for her, though. ' Come, sit, tell me all about it. '

[tomoshibi]

@vlstarie .

' What can I do for you, darling? ' Shylock asks, pipe caught between two fingers lazily twirling.

[tomoshibi]

@curmoritor : No one could ever explain the thoughts that go on in your head. Nothing could prepare you for flurries of unexplained emotions and annoying nagging in the back of your head. Emotions are certainly not your strong suite, they never will be. You ripped a mans eye out for no reason you can describe, but because you like it you refuse to return it. Though feeling feels no different The desire to possess something. You can easily take it, it's not hard. You are stronger then the witch in front of you who stands washing glasses in silence.

She's probably starting to wonder why your gaze isn't leaving her, however.

❛ Shylock~ ❜ You say with a rather sing-songy tone, waiting for her to look up and open her mouth before a gloved hand snatches her cheeks up, pulling her half way over the counter roughly as you do not even hesitate to have your lips meet hers. A kiss is something that is meant to be intimate or loving, yet you lack the ability to make either carry through to such an action. Rather... You want to devour her whole. Yet, not in the traditional ways that Witches and Wizards find devouring one another. Rather, tongue wastes little time in exploring the crevices of mouth. It's wet, it's strange... the aftertaste of a wine he can't place and the taste of smoke from her pipe. So very strange.

Yet you aren't done until your teeth come and bite her tongue, eager to claim a place that few others have had the chance. Only pulling back when you deem the action is done, over with. Was any of this necessary? No, yet it felt that way to you. A inner urge to claim something that few others got too.

Pulling back with a giggle as you let her go, you lean on one of your hands as you observe her. ❛ You taste rather fruity. ❜

Shylock is not unused to situations like these: love is love and it is darling, yes, but there is something that exists deeper, in the same crevices and cracks of the psyche, something so much more wholly affectionate and loving, something that surpasses the limits of the heart and claws its way tooth and nail into another's body through the ribs and out the spine.

It does, really, feel like being devoured when he kisses her.

He is all teeth and lips smashing and shaking and thrashing together, not like a kiss but like a war fought in the mind and she wastes no time in returning every ounce of feeling given to her — she reaches over and grabs his shoulder, the other hand bracing herself against the counter lest she be thrown over it in his haste. Fingers dig into wood, dig into shoulders, nails into skin through fabric protective but not thick enough to hide the bite of each sharp point.

Shylock has kissed a lot of people in her life.

You learn more about someone through a kiss than through hours of conversation, she thinks: how scared they are, how nervous, how outgoing, how kind, all of it from a simple kiss. It's becomes them, entirely, and this is surely so Owen it's unbearable. The way he bites her tongue, not hard enough to draw blood but more like a threat: a show of hands, a veritable I could, if I dared.

And all too quickly it's over. They break and she is left clinging to the counter beneath her and breathing heavily, her heart in her throat and that familiar burn that lingers in it just dancing at the edge of her consciousness. She smiles. How Owen it was.

' Your sweet tooth lends much to the taste of your lips too, Owen. ' Shylock leans back, adjusts her shirt and shawl, and pours a sweet, syrupy drink into her glass before pushing it over towards Owen to drink. Another kind of kiss. The kind only Shylock knows how to give.

[tomoshibi]

@loned : " you look like you could use a hug. " from lennox to shylock

Oh, how sweet of him.

Maybe she could, maybe she couldn't: Shylock wasn't sure either way if the touch of another would cure or maim her further, but maybe the way she's holding onto her shawl for dear life is giving away a touch more than she wanted. When Lennox speaks, she first softens, and then bristles up — she isn't hostile, per say, but she is protective of her secret parts.

She puts her hands on her hips, tilting them to the side ever so slightly. ' How honoured am I that you would do me the service! ' Sauntering a touch closer, she taps Lennox's chest with her pipe. ' Perhaps this was your plan all along? How devilish. '

[tomoshibi]

@curmoritor : [ TEA ]: sender prepares a mug of hot tea for the receiver. shylock

It hurts more than she lets on.

Watching him, them, that thing, waltzing around without a care in the world and no space in his heart for the one he used to share it with — and still Shylock finds herself lamenting, waning and waxing like the phases of the moon in her mood towards him but never quite reaching the level that the moon has above her. What makes it so better? What makes her so awful? So unloved?

It takes her a moment to process Owen has placed anything down, and a further moment after that to realise it's a drink, and it's warm and comforting when she wraps her hands around the mug and looks up to him with an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. Different from the usual, without those sharp edges that keep everyone at bay.

' Thank you, dear. ' She says sweetly, taking a sip: it was delicious, if not a touch too sugary, but she could deal with that.

[tomoshibi]

@curmoritor :

You weren't one that was often intent on cooperation. In fact, you wouldn't vocally dare call this cooperation, even if your life depended on it! However, after those annoying twins claimed that you wouldn't be able to match Chloe's ability to do one hair and accessories, you felt very slighted. At least Shylock is a good sport about it. Even if you are vaguely frustrated about the whole ordeal, your hands are still gentle and careful as you weave ribbons in and out of hair as it is braided and then tied up into a typical bunch that she is known to wear around. It's not the normal hair style- more stylistic to go with the upcoming Tanabata celebration that everyone was quite excited. A simple flower hairpin with beads dangling from it are then carefully pushed into the hair.

You are quite proud of yourself once you are done. For a first attempt, you are very impressed by your knowledge on how to do hair as well as a proper accessory to accent the look. ❛ Hmph. That wasn't so hard. And I think it made you a bit easier to look at~ ❜ Always one that must add some snide remark lest you appear friendly to those around you. ❛ Well? Hurry up and say something or I'll get impatient. ❜ (owen for shylock)

Shylock is nothing if not a good sport — at least that's what she likes to be! It leads to some entertaining scenarios and that, to her, is worth sitting still while Owen of all people would carefully tend to her hair like some kind of work of art. She'd prefer to do her own, knowing how she likes to tie those long locks up into messy buns and how perfectly to frame the face to accentuate her cheekbones and her nose, which she considers her best and greatest characteristics.

Nonetheless, she's impressed: Owen has done quite an amazing job where she expected to leave with messy tousles of hair barely contained by bow and ribbon, and that little hair pin is just darling, she thinks. She holds up the little handheld mirror she has and inspects her hair, lightly touching it with the palm of her hand as though preening herself.

——— ' I have to say, I'm thoroughly impressed, dear. And you say you've never done this sort of thing before? ' She'll pretend she doesn't know it was Owen's ego that pressed him this far, and she'll ignore that little comment he makes too. ' Paired with a lovely little gown and, oh, that gold shawl I have... I'm quite content with this. You did a surprisingly good job. '