[ Felix knows that Sylvain is coming well before the door cracks—he can feel it through their Bond, that he's barely holding himself back, that there will come a moment when he tosses aside all restraint and shows up at Felix's door no matter how much Felix wishes he wouldn't.
And, well, he knows Sylvain is coming because his sensitive ears can hear the floorboards squeaking all the way down the hall.
So he's not surprised, really, when Sylvain pushes the door open and slips inside anyway. He can smell the scent of food and something sweet wafting through the air the second the door cracks, and his stomach rumbles a loud and immediate protest that he's not leaping out of bed to eat something. The transformation drained him, and he's starving, but he doesn't want to come out. Not just yet.
The mattress dips and creaks under Sylvain's weight, and Felix's ears flatten against his skull entirely of their own volition, as beyond his ability to control now as his own moods. A low growl tries to bubble up in the back of his throat, but undeveloped vocal chords still somewhere between human and animal offer up only a raspy, broken noise that doesn't manage to sound threatening at all.
He pulls the blankets over his head, tucking his ears well out of sight. ]
You could've just left it at the door.
[ Felix whuffs quietly, and after another moment where Sylvain doesn't get up and leave, he rolls over and pushes himself upright—his comforter pulled over his head like a cloak, leaving only his face, tight-lipped and scowling, visible. His eyes have gone well and truly gold now—and there's an obvious swipe of claw marks across his nose, rendered by a moment of confusion and animal instinct mingled with frustrated pawing at an unfamiliar muzzle suddenly where his normal, human face should have been.
He has his human face now, but it's not entirely his old face anymore, and he hates it.]
Is it not enough humiliation that I completely lost control of myself? That I turned into some kind of a—thing? After all of that, I didn't want you to see me like this, too.
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And, well, he knows Sylvain is coming because his sensitive ears can hear the floorboards squeaking all the way down the hall.
So he's not surprised, really, when Sylvain pushes the door open and slips inside anyway. He can smell the scent of food and something sweet wafting through the air the second the door cracks, and his stomach rumbles a loud and immediate protest that he's not leaping out of bed to eat something. The transformation drained him, and he's starving, but he doesn't want to come out. Not just yet.
The mattress dips and creaks under Sylvain's weight, and Felix's ears flatten against his skull entirely of their own volition, as beyond his ability to control now as his own moods. A low growl tries to bubble up in the back of his throat, but undeveloped vocal chords still somewhere between human and animal offer up only a raspy, broken noise that doesn't manage to sound threatening at all.
He pulls the blankets over his head, tucking his ears well out of sight. ]
You could've just left it at the door.
[ Felix whuffs quietly, and after another moment where Sylvain doesn't get up and leave, he rolls over and pushes himself upright—his comforter pulled over his head like a cloak, leaving only his face, tight-lipped and scowling, visible. His eyes have gone well and truly gold now—and there's an obvious swipe of claw marks across his nose, rendered by a moment of confusion and animal instinct mingled with frustrated pawing at an unfamiliar muzzle suddenly where his normal, human face should have been.
He has his human face now, but it's not entirely his old face anymore, and he hates it.]
Is it not enough humiliation that I completely lost control of myself? That I turned into some kind of a—thing? After all of that, I didn't want you to see me like this, too.