[D2 LE] No Aphrodisiac (Chantelle’s Apartment)

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle set a candle on the glass trivet, striking a match and setting it to the wick. Moments later, the scent of coconut and limes filled the space. She checked the fridge, confirming that the wine she had put there was—in fact—still there, and she set out a pair of tall glasses. While she awaited her guest, she filled a spray bottle with water and tended to her house plants.


(( No Aphrodisiac - The Whitlams ))

[Marcus Kendall]

Marcus walked through the streets of the Minuit, seemingly careless. Some of the locals looked at him weirdly. What they saw was a man wearing jeans and a beanie, but no shirt. Yet, people minded their own business and let the strange newcomer pass. And old woman glanced ar Marcus and wiggled a sign against evil with her scrawny fingers. Ma Bubba knew what was up, even if the rest of the town thought that she was insane.

The beast sought out the place Chantell had told him, using both his nose and his eyes to seek out her rooms. She did have a rather characteristic scent after all. He paused at the door, knocking it as gently as he could, the frames rattling as he did so. The plumed tail rolled its eyes, recieving a glance from Marcus for its efforts. He huffed and gave his tail a wiggle. "It's Marcus." The beast called out, making sure she didn't have to guess who was behind her door. It was rather late after all.

[Chantelle Rossette]

The door opened to reveal the egret, she wore a sundress that reached just short of her... ankles? Her ankles were where her knees should be, her knees were hidden behind the full skirt. As was her favour, the dress was floral print, light and flowing, narrow straps exposing her shoulders.

Warmth radiated from the apartment, and the young woman, she seemed genuinely pleased to see him. “Marcus, beb, you made it,” Chantelle cooed, swaying to one side and waving him in through the door, “come in.”

[Marcus Kendall]

Marcus looked much like the day before, clad in ragged pants with a crude hole made for his tail. He wore also a red beani on his head, though the garment had been made for a human and so covered only one of his ears.

"Good evening ma'am." The beast murmured, his voice deep and dark. His tailed flared out in full flory, spreading wide with the eyes intent on Chantelle for a moment. Wiggling his hips, Marcus coiled his plumed tail around his ankles, out of the way. "Walked past your door once. Not so good with addresses." He sounded as bashful as almost 7 feet tall man-wolf could. "It's getting chilly out there." He addeded, even as he stepped into her rooms, looking around as he did so.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle closed the door, keeping in the heat. It wasn’t summery by any degree, but the autumn chill had been chased away. The apartment was old, a relic of the 1960s or 70s, though it had been renovated, and updated more than once. The appliances were less than ten years old, though the laminate cupboards and countertops looked older.

The benefit to such an old building, in a small town like Minuit, was that it was roomy for what she paid in rent. The door opened onto an open plan living area, kitchen to one side and lounge to the other. A small hallway led away to what could safely be presumed to be the bedroom and bathroom. The furniture was modest: a small dining table against a wall, with two chairs, a loveseat in front of a TV on a stand, and an old wrought iron set of shelves that held a number of potted plants.

On the table, Chantelle had arranged some combs and hairbrushes, the different types she had used when she still had her flaxen blonde hair, styling it up into vintage looks each day for work. On the kitchen counter was the burning candle, a tall and narrow glass, and a more solid highball glass. She placed her hand on Marcus’ arm, feathers rustling, “de importan’ ting is dat you foun’ de place,” she urged the beast towards one of the dining room chairs, “si’ yourself down, an’ I’ll pour you a drink.”

[Marcus Kendall]

The place was definitely more roomy than what Marcus had expected as he was used living in a trailer. He had never seen the money needed to rent a place like Chantelle's, no matter how humble it was. In his new for he really didn't need a house, but it was hard to keep up appearances of being a normal human without place to live.

The beast grabbed his beanie and stuffed it into his pants. "Sorry about the floor." Marcus grumbled softly, his clawed paws dripping mud on her floor. "Can't wear shoes." He shrugged apoplectically, figuring that she was familiar with his problem. Her legs were just as inhuman as his. The beast's tail was coyly hiding behind the beast's frame, feathers tugged snuggly together.

He shivered ever so slightly as she touched him, his fur a little damp under her touch. "Thank you." She could sense gratitude in the air as the beast seated himself.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle clucked her tongue, she often ‘made do’ as best she could with her shoes, having mutilated a few of her least favourite pairs, to at least give the right impression of things to the mortals around her. “I’s jus’ a lil dirt, noting to worry ‘bout,” though Marcus would note that she kept the place as impeccably clean as she kept herself. “Some seasons can jus’ be so rude,” the egret joked, “now you sit your tail righ’ down ‘here, an’ Chantelle will see you righ’ as rain.”

[Marcus Kendall]

Seeing he was given permission, Marcus stomped in, fur and all. "Nah. I meant the normies. They think I'm nuts walking out there without a shirt." He nodded his head into the direction of the city. "Our folks are alright. Except when they decide to blow things up." His thick, reddish tongue lolled out once more. "Trust our own to fuck things up for us all..." an ember of rage glowed within him even as he sat down where she asked. "Still. It this shit had to happen to me, I wish it hadn't done this to me." Marcus tugged a piece of lichen from his fur, unceremoniously eating it. "Like. I don't even remember how it was to be human sized."

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle has been referring the the chill and rain that came as the year drew on, but that didn’t matter. As he sat, the egret touched Marcus’ cheek, slender fingers turning his chin up towards her so she could look at him, “regrets are fo’ de cold of winta, beb,” her other hand indicated to the plants she was growing, many of them were blooming out of season, “in spring, we apprec’ate de tings dat make us unique.”

“Dere be no bahbin tonigh’,” she crooned. “We gon’ shed dat winter coa’ an’ make you your summer-self again.” Even if her beak didn’t move in the expected ways, the rest of her face did, and she smiled with a mixture of confidence and sly seduction. The egret’s long fingers caressed Marcus’ chin as she pulled away, sweeping across to the fridge and taking out a bottle of white wine.

[Marcus Kendall]

"I don't regret much. Besides taking that shortcut that one night. When I was still normal." Marcus huffed softly, turning to meet Chantelle's gaze. "You know that meme? Where they have bunch of forks and one's fubar. That's what I think about unique." He cackled, though did not turn his gaze away from here. "It is what it is. Gotta manage with what we have. At least I never go hungry this way." Having eaten almost everything on the other side, he retained the ability to eat anything he could stuff into his mouth.

He sat where she had left him, his ice cold gaze lingering on her form. From the corner of her eye she could see him shuffling to a more comfortable position, moving his legs bit more open and wrapping his plumed tail around the legs of the stool.