entrancelogs | My beloved monster and me

Entry tags:

My beloved monster and me

Who: Gren and Misty
Where: The lake
When: 25/10
Rating: Likely some swearing and probably some smoochin'
Summary: Two swamp people attempt to have a normal date
The Story:

Gren really isn't equipped for romance. Not that he can't have romantic feelings, of course, Misty is living proof of that- he's just not much experienced in that area. His life has always been pretty simple, from eldritch Nordic swamp horror to the short, angry guy that haunts dive bars. Simple, easy, keeping everyone bar the people he cares about the most at arms length.

But now there's Misty, and he's equal parts happy he has her and terrified he's going to do something to fuck this up. He's taken Shawn's advice (for better or for worse) for a good first date and set up a picnic by the lake. Of course, he has no idea what Misty likes to eat, so he's gone with a mixture of everything and just hoped for the best. He's set up a blanket- for her benefit more than his own - and even managed to drag a few candles, some wine and a frazzled-looking boombox out of his closet.

"God. This looks fuckin' awful."

Still, he's done what he can, sends her a message of where to meet him, and spends the rest of his time staring at his poor attempt at a picnic, waiting for her to arrive.

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With the message, Misty takes a few minutes before heading down to the lake. Mostly it is time to get a new dress from the closet, with matching shawl and even sandals despite her regularly bare feet.

The dress was practically gossamer in shimmering black with icy tones of pale blue shot through the fabric, and the shawl was ivory with the same cool tones. It was nicer than anything she had ever owned, but it cost her nothing here to put a lot of thought and no time into something that she thought looked amazing, felt like a breeze on her skin, and if she cheats with the ice based shades, well then so be it.

Gathering the bottle she had gotten from the closet in a basket and slipping her feet into the ice blue sandals, Misty headed down for the lake.

Gren might be worried about the set up, but as she approaches, Misty is positively enchanted. The details, the way it looks, it's all perfect to her. Because he did this for her. Crossing the grass to his side, smiling so wide her cheeks are likely going to hurt later because someone, no, HE did this for her.

"No one's ever taken me on a picnic before," she admits, her voice a little tight.

She really does look lovely. Gren winces inwardly, he hadn't really thought of dressing himself up. He'd been more preoccupied in trying to make this setup look nice and not amateurish at best, a mess at worst.

He smiles as she approaches, honestly glad to see her- and trying to ease his concerns that he just hasn't got a goddamn clue what he's doing - and yet not wanting to stop either. Not for anything. He'll muddle through. She's very much worth is.

"Well, lucky me, I get to be the first," a pause. "You clean up good."

He's trying. He's really trying.

For Misty it only matters that he tried. He is himself, and she knew who that was when she came to him with those words and soft kisses. She isn't surprised by that, nor is she looking to change him. She is excited though and it likely shows in the light of her eyes, and her wide smile.

"Why thank you," she says, twirling because, yes, she wants to show off but she's just happy. "I admit, I kind of thought icy when I used the closet magic. And, I may have asked the closet for the best Scotch it could manage. Thought you might like it. I do recognize the name and, honestly, I know I could never afford it without the closet."

Edited 2018-10-27 00:17 (UTC)

He likes the twirling, if he's honest- largely because he knows it makes her happy, it's something that' just so very much Misty - it's impossible not to like. It would be not liking her, which, frankly, is a ridiculous concept in of itself.

"Awww, some scotch just for me? Thanks, I appreciate it. I uh- got something for you too, lemmie just-"

He wanders over to the boombox, squints at it for a moment because mundy technology is always a ballache - before pressing play. A Fleetwood Mac song comes warbling out of the speakers- not perfect, it's a VERY eighties boombox, but it's there. Gren offers an awkward smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know you like Stevie Nicks, and I asked the closet for some help, this is what it came up with."

It leaves Misty happy. Something she does when she's down, but hasn't found herself needing to do as often here, because there's so many other things she's found happiness in that aren't in spending time by herself seeking that same joy.

"Well, I mean, maybe I shouldn't encourage things but I know it helps you when dealing with people and things should be easy on you."

It's at least her trying to help him.

But then the music starts, and it sounds so much closer to how she's used to music from a record player rather than modern ipods and all, and she can't help but light up.

"Oh Gren."

She is hugging him instantly, making a squealing sound out of excitement. "You're so sweet," she gushes, kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"It makes everything a little...quieter," it's hard to explain, he knows. "People are real loud and I got sensitive ears. It makes it more bearable. Softens the edges."

If he didn't, well, he'd be going up the wall. Booze has its pitfalls, but it remains the best tool he's known to deal with the problem.

He smiles, happy to see her happy. He returns the hug, each time, the contact is a little easier, a little less awkward.

"Thought you might like it. I'm just glad the closets played nice. The first time I tried it, I literally got a mac. As in a coat."

"Maybe there's a way to soften things magical? Like part of the glamour, maybe? Like a cocoon of sorts?" She's imagining it now, considering the options and what might make it work for him, to make things easier if she can.

She finds herself being very touchie with others, though she notes to herself to speak softer, to speak less, for his sake.

"I practice with it when I come to the house," she says, smiling. "Maybe it's a magical thing?"

"Maybe?" he shrugs. "None of the witches back home were all that interested in looking into it. It woulda cost too much anyway, even if they did give an ounce of a shit to help."

Which, of course, they didn't. Everything had a price, and magic was the priciest thing of them all. He smiles, reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear. He'd appreciate it, really- it makes his life considerably easier.

"Makes as much sense as anything. Or maybe they just like you more. You#re pretty likeable."

Oh but she tenses at that. Every time he talks about the witches from his world upsets her so much to hear about them having all that power, so many in need, and them making it such a commodity that lives are threatened for it. Not to mention Gren's comfort and happiness.

"I will see what I can do about it. I don't know if you can get sick from the alcohol, but it's better for you anyway," she says, determined to make this a thing.

Leaning into his touch, smiling at that. "Well, if that's the case, tell me what you need and I'll get it for you. Trick the closet." She moves in against him, swaying with the music. "Let me guess. You never dance, do you?"

"If I could, it woulda happened it already. Been at this for centuries."

He's fairly sure his immune to alcohol-related illnesses- or any human one, really. One thing he can be glad for, he supposes. A low chuckle escapes him.

"I'll bear that in mind. Get you to butter up the closets first for me."

It probably doesn't help he calls his an asshole on a daily basis. He sways with her, a little more graceless, it's absolutely something he never does.

"No. But I'm starting to do a lot of things I never did before."

"Yes, well... I wasn't there for centuries. You want to drink for fun, fine. You shouldn't have to so you can exist comfortably," she says, giving him a stern look. She may not be there forever, and she knows that, but whatever she can do for now, she will. Whether he, or others in his world, believe it? She believes he deserves better.

Looping her arms around his neck, Misty grins, glad that he isn't telling her no. Likely wouldn't do much good, but glad that he didn't nonetheless.

"I am more than willing to help ensure the closets play nice,' she says, not yet moving, just finding the rhythm and moving with it. "So long as you're willing to tell me when you don't want to do things," she murmurs, leaning her brows to his for a moment.

"Duly noted, M'am."

He chuckles, because it's actually kinda nice she gives that much of a shit about him. It's such a small request for her to make. At least it's one he's willing to agree to. After all, it's not like she's asking him to go against his nature.

"Yeah, trust me, I'll let you know if I don't, nobody gets me to do shit I don't want to do."

Including her. But this is still nice. The closeness. He's not planning on moving any time soon.

"Same goes for you though."

"Good. Besides, it'll give me something to focus on besides making myself pass out trying to track the magic on this place," she says, so not even seeing that double standard and worrying about his health all the while risking her own.

"I know you do what you want and you're a monster and all," she says, as if that's just normal. "But I know there's things I could risk for my tribe, and have. How do you think I ended up in Hell?" Which it is more her ego than that as well, but she's okay with fudging the details for the sake of another. For those she cares about.

Moving a bit more as they talk, tiny steps to guide them in time with the music. "I will tell you. I just know I'll take risks because I want to and who knows how that can go." Which is not an excuse but the truth in her mind.

"Well, that sounds like it should be concerning," he cants his head. "You okay? I always got the feeling trying to track the magic here is like trying to trap a rattlesnake under a tumbler."

So pretty please don't burn yourself out or get catch by some insane magical whiplash, pretty please. Though she does have a point. She's pretty damn bloody minded, when it comes to taking care of her own. It's something they very much have in common.

He moves with her, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, marvelling at how natural it felt.

"Guess we never really know how we'll react to the bullshit Wonderland'll throw at us, right?"

"I would tell you not to be concerned, but I kinda like it," she admits, brushing her fingers lightly over the back of his neck as she chuckles at that analogy. "That sounds about right with what I've been through. I can't figure out if it's that well guarded, or just that damned complicated."

And it's frustrating, which is likely obvious from her tones.

Though so much of that kind of just melts at that kiss. Okay, she could just stay in this moment forever. Yep, that is it. She's thought about having moments like this and never thought they could be real.

So she leans into things, her brow against his. "We may never know what's coming, but we're not alone in this, Gren. We're building a group here, people we can turn to, and that's the important part. At least to me. That we aren't doing this alone."

Even if she is one of the ones that would do this alone or not. Except right now she didn't have to.

"Probably a little of both. It's Wonderland, or...y'know, a copy of Wonderland. It makes sense the magic here would be screwy as shit."

He doesn't trust it at all- but he's very aware most of that is from lingering hatred of the Tweedles- the Fable ones. They soured everything to do with Wonderland for a lot of folks. Getting shot in the face by one of them will pretty much do that.

He smiles faintly at her comment, his hand tracing faint lines on the small of her back.

"Yeah. I get it. We got people here. People...they're important. When you stop looking out for your own...your, uh tribe. That's when things get fucked up real fast."

"It's... The magic I'm used to feels warm, it's like sand on the beach in the middle of summer. This is like metal that's been frozen. It bites and burns on the skin at the same time."

She shakes her head, making a face as she clings to him a bit more tightly as she thinks about it, even if it isn't going to stop her.

"Exactly. That's how we're going to make it through this place. So long as we stay together," She pauses then, laughing so softly. "I made Shawn promise me he wouldn't die," she admits.

He grimaces at the mental image that conjurers up. At least he can understand it a little, from that perspective.

"So it's like trying to figure out a whole new sort of magic without any fuckin' guidelines to help you along the way. Lovely."

Seriously, Wonderland, why do you have to be the biggest ass? He lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle.

"Good. I- well, technically I threatened him not to die, but the sentiment was the same. Gotta see if he actually listens to us, but between us we should be able to wrangle him into somewhere safe," even if it involves tying him up in a tree or something.

"And no connection to it either. I was born to the magic I use. It's run in my ancestors blood back in time," she says, thinking about that and this place. "A lot of this feels as if there is nothing connected to it. Like it's not alive. My magic feels that way to me," she says, not sure if that makes anymore sense, but the best she can explain it.

She laughs at that, nodding. "It's funny because I worry less about dying than about you and the others being hurt in this place."

Which isn't likely a good thing for anyone to hear, she realizes as she shifts slightly, resting her head on Gren's shoulder.

He doesn't really understand it. Magic isn't his forte and it never will be. But he tries his best, for her sake.

"So it's like the magic here don't got an anchor? Like it's just...floating around with nothing to tie it in place?"

That sounds dangerous. But then, that's very fitting for Wonderland in general. Dangerous. He smiles faintly, as she rests on him.

"Sounds about right when it comes to you. But don't worry, I ain't so easy to hurt."

Says the guy with literally one arm.

"Maybe, kind of?" She sighs. "I wish I got more of it," she admits, exhaling heavily, wishing she had any better answers. "It's just so weird, and maybe it's so weird in every world that isn't your own, you know?"

Which makes her consider something, lifting her head to look at him again.

"The witch that does magic for you. When she does it, does it feel weird or odd compared to the magic you knew before doing the same thing?" The glamour spells. Different which, different worlds. Maybe there was something in that.

Misty is silent a moment before moving her hand slightly to where his arm should be. "Do I even say it?"

"Maybe? Could be magic works different in all worlds. The witches never said anything about the Mundane- but then that world was picked for us specifically because it doesn't have magic. It's got nothing the Adversary would want."

The Fables just had to bring their own magic to the world, and use it sparingly, to try and not attract attention- of the Mundies or of...him.

"I don't really notice the difference," he admits. "Magic is magic. I ain't all that sensitive to it. Putting a Glamour on is like putting on a coat. After a while, it's just the same action. She did her best to get it as close to what I got back home anyway."

His eyes flick over, following her hand, grimacing a little, because oh. That.

"To be fair, I lost that while I was throwin' down with the fuckin' Big Bad Wolf. Ain't exactly a regular situation, there."

Edited 2018-11-13 00:08 (UTC)

She sighs, but nods, knowing that all she can do is keeping asking others and see what she might be able to find out from them. If anyone has noticed anything here that is different than what they knew before, but she expects so much to be answers like Gren's. Not noticing anything different.

"Yeah, I figured it would be like that but worth asking," she says with a nod, smiling because being able to dance, and talk magic and just be with someone else that knows about who and what she is? It's one of the most amazing things in her life.

Stroking her fingers gently there, leaning back her head to smile at him. "Okay. I will give you that one. This time."

"Eh, always worth asking. I might surprise you one day. Probably not though, so don't hold your breath or nothing."

Magic is magic, a complicated mess that he doesn't especially want to toy with. Still, he smiles faintly.

"Yeah extenuating circumstances and everything. Don't worry, I ain't so keen to lose the other one."

"Gren, you have surprised me a lot, but always in the best possible ways," she says, knowing it sounds cutesy but she just doesn't care right now. It's how she truly feels.

"Well, not again, after those weird little rats," she points out, shuddering at the memory.

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