Warren & April | Cookies and Freedom
Dec. 27th, 2024 11:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_mayhem posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logs(Backdated) A still-stuck April runs across Warren... and his baking. The cookies are delicious, and Warren is surprisingly helpful.
The smell pulled her to the kitchen, head tilted towards the air like she had a visible nose to sniff with. She still hadn't quite managed to shift back yet, but she had managed some adjustments. Her mouth was smaller, although her teeth were still as plentiful and sharp, and her tongue wasn't getting in the way of basic words anymore.
Her hands were still a work in progress, but she'd managed to get them a bit slimmer, enough to use a chunky dry erase marker and smallish board for basic words or filling in blanks, and to poke at assistive word cards on her phone.
The biggest boon, of course, was being able to eat things that weren't just liquids again. Not much and not well, but she could crunch a cookie and tear meat decent enough to supplement her steady diet of nutrition shakes. And that was why she was in the kitchen now, lurking behind a tall man with impressive wings. "COOKIE" she finally said, announcing her presence even as she reached out for a treat.
"Cookie yes -- and whoa!" Warren was not a man known for his tact. "I don't know that I've ever met you before. I'd definitely remember your ...fingers? talons? claws? I'm sorry, I don't know the woke term for this." He put a freshly baked cookie on a spatula and handed it over to April. "It's a snickerdoodle. Please eat it and not me."
"APRIL" was the short reply as she grabbed the cookie and gave it a delighted chomp, ignoring the crumbs. "YUM" she pronounced, eyeing the baking sheet. She leaned in closer, although with her nose - or whatever was passing for it - she didn't get much more than the smell of cinnamon and cookie dough. Still though, something about this form made her want to cause a little chaos. So she stretched her tendrils out to touch the tips of his wings, still sniffing the air, and locked her eyes on Warren's face.
"TASTY?"
Warren's eyes widened. It was like looking into the depths of ...something. Gross.... "Tasty...yes..." This was new. Was this feral spider beast a mansionite? Or was it just a random feral spider beast he was about to feed? Honestly, he had no idea and it was so gross, thinking of it/her/it touching his wings. He'd have to take a shower later.
"Do you .. .need more? Or something else? Please tell me what to do here."
"WING PRETTY" She continued to stare, white eyes wide and unblinking, mouth curved into a Cheshire grin. The last person she remembered unsettling this much was Madin, and it hadn't been nearly as entertaining, with the purple person much more cautious than the man in front of her. "WANNA PET"
"I am not a cat," Warren huffed, offended that she would use such gauce words. "And ... no. You can't pet me with those ..... hands. When's the last time you washed them?" He looked at them again. "Are you slimy? You look slimy. Touch my hand first. If you get something all snotty on my feathers, so help me God..."
"TODAY" April said, but she obligingly reached her tendrils out, letting them brush against the back of his hand. She held her own hand out so he could learn the texture of her skin. "NOT SLIME"
On the one hand, he had absolutely no desire to be touched by weird tentacle things.
On the other hand, he also didn't want to die in the kitchen, wearing an apron and listening to Frank Sinatra.
Begrudgingly, he turned halfway around, and moved his head to the side, his eyes closed. "You get 5 seconds." He would do his best not to shudder.
Rude. But also, less fun when someone was genuinely freaked out. April stared at her hands for a few seconds, waiting for them to fade from black to their normal human form, then reached around Warren to turn on the tap and wash them. Dried, she reached out again, lightly touching his cheek with human fingers before reaching out to brush over his feathers. "SOFT" she rumbled in approval, wiggling her human fingers at him.
He peeked an eye open. That didn't feel weird ... it felt ...normal? And then he saw normal fingers and he smiled. "I wasn't body-shaming, I swear. I'm woke. All bodies are fine and all. I just have a very specific feather maintenance regime that I don't want bothered. Oils really do a number on them."
"NOT OILY" It was a grumble, but she shrugged at him. She knew what she looked like in this form. "STUCK" April touched her own cheek lightly, then swiped another cookie.
Stuck? "OH! So you are not like this all the time?" He tilted his head. "I have no idea who you even are so I can't compare. I never forget an ass and I know I haven't seen yours before."
"RIOT STUCK" April replied. Which... probably didn't explain anything. But neither did the comment about her ass, even as her tendrils flew up to cover her face. At least she couldn't blush in this form. Blast, communicating like this was impossible. She had questions.
Oddly enough, Warren understood. He nodded sagely. "we've all had a hard time post riots. Some of us drink ourselves senseless, others turn into hell spider beasts. It happens. Have you tried an edible? Maybe you just need to relax. I have plenty of drugs..... wait, you're an adult right?"
April's laugh in the form was rasping, but her tendrils managed to form the numbers 2 and 8 as she nodded. Try to relax, huh? Maybe. She plopped in a chair, watching the slight movement of Warren's wings as he bustled around the kitchen. It was strangely hypnotic. One was... moving not quite right. Her eyes focused on it intently, trying to figure out why when suddenly she couldn't see it anymore.
She blinked, trying to figure out why the view of the room felt wrong. "You–" a pause, as her mind registered that was her voice. Her human voice.
"HOLY SHIT IT WORKED," she shrieked, scrambling out of the chair and doing a victory dance. "Oh my god I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeee I could almost kiss you feather guy!"
"You can kiss me if your tongue is normal" was all he could think of to say back.
April stopped mid-dance, bright red as her brain caught up with her mouth. "Oh nonono gotta brush my teeth maybe I can pet your wings again later they're really soft by the way one of them is a little–" all of this came out in a rush as she moved closer, eyes scanning for the feather that has caught her attention. Ah, just there! "There's a slightly out of place one just here," she continued slower, fingers reaching out to smooth it into place. "The vane got ruffled up, but nothing like bent or broken. I imagine you'd feel that. Wait shit in being rude, sorry. Sorry! Should've asked. I'm just... gonna go before I die from embarrassment thanks bye I owe you one!"
With that, she turned on her heel and sprinted out of the room, leaving Warren alone in the kitchen.
The smell pulled her to the kitchen, head tilted towards the air like she had a visible nose to sniff with. She still hadn't quite managed to shift back yet, but she had managed some adjustments. Her mouth was smaller, although her teeth were still as plentiful and sharp, and her tongue wasn't getting in the way of basic words anymore.
Her hands were still a work in progress, but she'd managed to get them a bit slimmer, enough to use a chunky dry erase marker and smallish board for basic words or filling in blanks, and to poke at assistive word cards on her phone.
The biggest boon, of course, was being able to eat things that weren't just liquids again. Not much and not well, but she could crunch a cookie and tear meat decent enough to supplement her steady diet of nutrition shakes. And that was why she was in the kitchen now, lurking behind a tall man with impressive wings. "COOKIE" she finally said, announcing her presence even as she reached out for a treat.
"Cookie yes -- and whoa!" Warren was not a man known for his tact. "I don't know that I've ever met you before. I'd definitely remember your ...fingers? talons? claws? I'm sorry, I don't know the woke term for this." He put a freshly baked cookie on a spatula and handed it over to April. "It's a snickerdoodle. Please eat it and not me."
"APRIL" was the short reply as she grabbed the cookie and gave it a delighted chomp, ignoring the crumbs. "YUM" she pronounced, eyeing the baking sheet. She leaned in closer, although with her nose - or whatever was passing for it - she didn't get much more than the smell of cinnamon and cookie dough. Still though, something about this form made her want to cause a little chaos. So she stretched her tendrils out to touch the tips of his wings, still sniffing the air, and locked her eyes on Warren's face.
"TASTY?"
Warren's eyes widened. It was like looking into the depths of ...something. Gross.... "Tasty...yes..." This was new. Was this feral spider beast a mansionite? Or was it just a random feral spider beast he was about to feed? Honestly, he had no idea and it was so gross, thinking of it/her/it touching his wings. He'd have to take a shower later.
"Do you .. .need more? Or something else? Please tell me what to do here."
"WING PRETTY" She continued to stare, white eyes wide and unblinking, mouth curved into a Cheshire grin. The last person she remembered unsettling this much was Madin, and it hadn't been nearly as entertaining, with the purple person much more cautious than the man in front of her. "WANNA PET"
"I am not a cat," Warren huffed, offended that she would use such gauce words. "And ... no. You can't pet me with those ..... hands. When's the last time you washed them?" He looked at them again. "Are you slimy? You look slimy. Touch my hand first. If you get something all snotty on my feathers, so help me God..."
"TODAY" April said, but she obligingly reached her tendrils out, letting them brush against the back of his hand. She held her own hand out so he could learn the texture of her skin. "NOT SLIME"
On the one hand, he had absolutely no desire to be touched by weird tentacle things.
On the other hand, he also didn't want to die in the kitchen, wearing an apron and listening to Frank Sinatra.
Begrudgingly, he turned halfway around, and moved his head to the side, his eyes closed. "You get 5 seconds." He would do his best not to shudder.
Rude. But also, less fun when someone was genuinely freaked out. April stared at her hands for a few seconds, waiting for them to fade from black to their normal human form, then reached around Warren to turn on the tap and wash them. Dried, she reached out again, lightly touching his cheek with human fingers before reaching out to brush over his feathers. "SOFT" she rumbled in approval, wiggling her human fingers at him.
He peeked an eye open. That didn't feel weird ... it felt ...normal? And then he saw normal fingers and he smiled. "I wasn't body-shaming, I swear. I'm woke. All bodies are fine and all. I just have a very specific feather maintenance regime that I don't want bothered. Oils really do a number on them."
"NOT OILY" It was a grumble, but she shrugged at him. She knew what she looked like in this form. "STUCK" April touched her own cheek lightly, then swiped another cookie.
Stuck? "OH! So you are not like this all the time?" He tilted his head. "I have no idea who you even are so I can't compare. I never forget an ass and I know I haven't seen yours before."
"RIOT STUCK" April replied. Which... probably didn't explain anything. But neither did the comment about her ass, even as her tendrils flew up to cover her face. At least she couldn't blush in this form. Blast, communicating like this was impossible. She had questions.
Oddly enough, Warren understood. He nodded sagely. "we've all had a hard time post riots. Some of us drink ourselves senseless, others turn into hell spider beasts. It happens. Have you tried an edible? Maybe you just need to relax. I have plenty of drugs..... wait, you're an adult right?"
April's laugh in the form was rasping, but her tendrils managed to form the numbers 2 and 8 as she nodded. Try to relax, huh? Maybe. She plopped in a chair, watching the slight movement of Warren's wings as he bustled around the kitchen. It was strangely hypnotic. One was... moving not quite right. Her eyes focused on it intently, trying to figure out why when suddenly she couldn't see it anymore.
She blinked, trying to figure out why the view of the room felt wrong. "You–" a pause, as her mind registered that was her voice. Her human voice.
"HOLY SHIT IT WORKED," she shrieked, scrambling out of the chair and doing a victory dance. "Oh my god I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeee I could almost kiss you feather guy!"
"You can kiss me if your tongue is normal" was all he could think of to say back.
April stopped mid-dance, bright red as her brain caught up with her mouth. "Oh nonono gotta brush my teeth maybe I can pet your wings again later they're really soft by the way one of them is a little–" all of this came out in a rush as she moved closer, eyes scanning for the feather that has caught her attention. Ah, just there! "There's a slightly out of place one just here," she continued slower, fingers reaching out to smooth it into place. "The vane got ruffled up, but nothing like bent or broken. I imagine you'd feel that. Wait shit in being rude, sorry. Sorry! Should've asked. I'm just... gonna go before I die from embarrassment thanks bye I owe you one!"
With that, she turned on her heel and sprinted out of the room, leaving Warren alone in the kitchen.
