a woman like that is not a woman, quite.

[trouvaille]

Who: Gwenaëlle & Eren
When: Sometime this month prior to mod events.
Where: Riverside
What: Yoga.
Warnings: TBA if necessary.


( winter's cold has never particularly bothered gwenaëlle. it was a problem when she thought she was human, something to downplay; wearing a cardigan when someone else did and sitting inside when she didn't want to. endless trips to the doctor as a small child about her poor circulation until her father had intervened, stridently decrying the concern as nonsense when his own cooler body temperature had never done him any harm, anne. now and especially here, where she sometimes catches rainbows shimmering over skin she's noticed milkier and more pearl than the opalescent blue-tinge she'd grown accustomed to, it's just—a thing about herself. she is five foot three. her teeth are very sharp. she likes the cold.

this is all a very longwinded way of saying: so what if it's whatever they call january here, if she wants to do yoga outdoors, she's fucking well going to. she's not yet located—has not yet made a real effort to locate—a dance studio or gym or whatever equivalent might be available, but she does like the river, even if the commercial nature of it and the harbor means the water is...

less than ideal. not as bad as some she's been in, though. for now she's on dry land, but the nearness suits her, its comfort more psychological than practical now that it isn't specifically freshwater she relies on so much. she's been irritable and out of sorts, lately, sleeping poorly—nothing she isn't used to, so the fact that stretching her foot high behind her into the splits as she dips gracefully forward isn't actually making her feel better is insult to injury, and doing very little for her mood. the cool air and the calm should help, but they don't—maybe she just needs to give it time. putin is sat nearby, guarding her belongings and placidly waiting as if he could wait as long as she liked. it may be a while. )

Comments

downward dog 👀

[usurpers]

[ it’s a drastic flip from last month to this month, and all eren has to thank to free him of his fatigue and brumation are his witches, the (now working) heat enchantments they provide and a bonded chimera’s own . . . heat, really. eren is excruciatingly active throughout the day; to find things to do, plenty of errands, daily exercises, investigating— and when that had been drained for the day, or when his patience thinned by the heat that made his scales display vibrant, attention-seeking colors, he’d be out for people.

at the moment, it had been a mix of both exercise and socialization; eren had a quota for his body to keep, and muscle (even extra muscle now, lining his rib cage) would only maintain their mass if trained the same way he’s done for years. there’s stretching, more-than-one-mile runs, sit-ups, push-ups, punching bags or sparring partners (skipped this time around; too much body contact necessary and he’s sensitive as is), then another run. stretching would then again be repeated for last, then a large meal to replenish the energy lost.

on his final run, eren jogs citywide (he is grace), riverside included. the ice sleek across most of the waters wasn’t much of a bother to him, and it’d just be foolishly childish of him to start avoiding bodies of water completely just because of a tactile weakness. he just didn’t have to touch it.

perhaps it had been his sense of taste and smell that brings him here, at least, a young woman twisting and turning her body in the distance like you’d see a dancer. eren slows some feet behind her vicinity— there was a dog, too. it didn’t stop him from carefully approaching in his shin-high pants loose enough for comfortable movement, tailored space for a whip-like, needle-tip tail and a short poncho. nothing more, nothing less.

the spines behind his pointed ears are pricked up expressively to show he’s attentive, his tongue flicking out, and his eyes wander; curious, of course, for more than one reason, but he’s diligent in keeping focus in what he’s doing. most of the time. what she was doing wasn’t so different from what trainees had to do and keep doing to maintain flexibility for maneuver gear. ]

Is there room for one more?

[ the dragon calls out while re-tying some loose strands of hair back into a messy bun, breathing heavy from the cardio— but just as even-leveled as he stands tall. six foot eight. ]

[trouvaille]

( he isn't so close that she feels she has to start backing up, but he is close enough that she thinks, blankly—jesus fuck, he's bigger than koschei. not by much, granted. taller, by an inch or so. it's oddly striking, all the more for the reminder that she wasn't anticipating of someone she's not much thought of since coming here, beyond abstract consideration of whether he would like or dislike the alterations of aefenglom.

she imagines his face if anyone offered him a poncho. it's the first thought to crack anything like a smile through her sour mood, so she starts— )

It's a free—

( and then screws her nose up, swaying back, her leg still extended behind her. )

Shit. I never did get an answer as to our precise legal status and theoretical rights, so I don't know if actually is a free river, but I won't sic my dog on you if you don't behave in a way that suggests you're feeling very open to relocating your balls.

( this seems like a fair arrangement, to her. she tilts forward, going onto her hands and tipping her foot over her head, breathing out. putin mimics the shape, if not the precise achievement of it, stretching out over her bag and coat with his tail fully extended. )

[usurpers]

[ wow!!! wow, that was!!! aggressive!!! this is what he gets for imposing looks, it seems, to which, all eren really does is just blinks, then steps forward a couple steps enough to be side by side with her, and, a sizable circle of personal space— eren was massive as is, and an extended wingspan was probably more than twice his size. count his tail, and his circumference away from gwen is generous for the both of them.

and so, after a brief glance up, then down her bending frame, eren begins his session with a forward bend, effortlessly pressing his palms to the earth without bending his knees. it’s a bit of a cheat, and something he deals with afterwards; his arms are inherently longer than average, enough that if he desires to pull the muscles of his calves, he has to bend his spined elbows into an umbrella just under his neck, so talons can grip close to his ankles from behind. ]

Is all that insecurity, [ hold, go as far as he can, feel the pricks on his hamstrings— then let go, a gentle exhale with it. ] or are you bad at jokes?

[ people who‘re truly ready to hurt don’t usually boast about how it’s going to be. they do it before the opposing can blink or even imagine what hit them. separating his legs into a lunge. first the right, then the left, inhaling sharply and holding as his position aligns enough to carefully ease himself into splitting. every so often, his focused eyes wander back to her, from the curve of her leg to the contour of her cheek.

he’s seen people stretch like him, but not like a dancer. ]

[trouvaille]

( the problem with gwen—among the problems with gwen, of which there are numerous—is that it isn't, really. the language she uses habitually and comfortably sounds, frequently, more hostile than she intends it to; her alternately matter of fact or arch delivery in what she considers casual interactions doesn't always detract from the fact that yes, this is just how she talks. it tends not to surprise people that while she's always had broad acquaintance (unavoidable, previously) it's rarely seemed worthwhile to most people to attempt to get any closer to her.

that isn't entirely an accident. it does mean that she says, )

I'm hilarious, ( unfazed, moving slowly through her extensions, ) you just don't find me funny. I won't hold it against you. I respect the right of lots of people to be wrong.

( it's also that she doesn't think a joke and a threat actually have to be mutually exclusive. something can be a friendly greeting, and something she's prepared to resort to in the case that he does, actually, behave in a way that suggests his balls need relocating. the part that's a joke is mainly that she would expect putin to do it, because they are on a different playing field here and she is much more protective of her guard dog in it.

she has teeth. it's fine. she'll figure out how to look after herself in this brave new world if she's got to, she'd just rather not...and presenting herself as someone who couldn't, who makes threats so absurd he couldn't take it seriously, is a different kind of camouflage. her best defense has always been to be underestimated, taken for granted and presumed to be no more than what she appears to be, and she's got practise at that kind of sleight of hand.

look at me, everything about her says. you know what i am. you can see what i am. why dig any deeper? there's nothing here. dismiss me.

when she smiles at him beneath her arm, upside down, there's a glint of teeth and her eyes are huge. )

[usurpers]

[ ah. ah. the dip in the nod he gives could only mean one word: ]

Fair. [ and, after his wings pull back to his front, ] I know someone like that.

[ it’s not said with half the amount of sharpness that his fangs bore, inquisitive and contemplative. the inoffensive card always had eren internally squinting and, truth be told, unconvinced. perhaps “bad at jokes” is his way of saying “lying through your teeth”, somehow, but not an entirely a malicious ordeal. perhaps even playful. sarcasm, misc. annie would always call herself feeble, delicate, a defenseless maiden— when truly, she could flip a man four times her size and muscle mass on his back, and probably snap it if she desired.

needless to say, how gwen briefly reminds him of a girl who’s had so much impact in his growth keeps him interested. her soundless words fall on deaf ears; there is something, and he doesn’t care if it’s to fill the void in his heart or not. it never would, to begin with, and if anything, everyone had their very own, unique, irreplaceable impacts.

it’s why he doesn’t stay silent and make his last words, or hers, the last between them, and neither do his eyes peel away as she arches. eren’s split descends until thighs touch the ground, slowly, trying to adjust the ways his reptilian legs bent differently from a humans and arms in front for balance, head tilted sideways to almost hypnotically align with the merrow’s— not a complete rift, or any close to amazingly elastic, but it’s of a man who’s far more malleable than your average jock. ]

What do you need this for?

[ dancing? fighting? sport? health? it’d say a lot. ]

[trouvaille]

( it's a bit of whimsy to mirror him; to brace her hands against the ground and lift herself above them, toes pointed along similar angles as he descends and she holds herself in the air, arguably amazingly elastic. there's a ruefulness about the way she says, )

I usually say 'sex' when people ask me, ( with amused frankness; probably not a true answer, but not not useful there, come on, ) but it's been so long I don't know if I could still say it with a straight face.

( it does seem like she'd be prepared to leave her answer there, initially; perfectly content with an answer that makes clear it is not one at all. it provides a conversational hook she would ordinarily be happy to pursue, but then—god, it's depressing. what she'd lost, reckoning with her transformations at home; what she's lost since, reckoning with the new ones here. at least at home there had seemed to be something in trade, and some hope of regaining her equilibrium; here it's harder to see. )

Anyway, I don't have any silks here to work with. And I was sick of my house. I don't know, do you need to need something to do it? Does it have to be for something? It's for me.

[usurpers]

[ probably not entirely helpful when the dragon is horny on main, as much as he tries, deeply tries to keep that to himself. something as simple as a word sets him off to a colorful imagination of flexible sex and toothy fangs splitting his lips apart— he’s now forced himself to tear his eyes away from her (but not without dragging it out). the smile he gives is small and the huff, a touch of a laugh that never quite evolved into one, is equally so but present. he lowers his head and dips crystal tipped horns to the ground, to pull the muscles of his neck to work between his legs.

she has a flashy sense of humor, that, while he doesn’t find entirely funny, is mildly endearing in the sense that— she just says what she wants and it’s almost as if she’s damn proud of it. gotta admire that somehow. ]

It’s still a valid answer. [ actually, he rolls his shoulders, and: ] With or without sex. [ and a satisfying one, at that. again, with or without the sex. hah. how to get himself back on track, hm? he didn’t even know her name yet. ] I’d say it’s for myself, but fighting’s always been attached to it. Plus, [ and then, he lifts, and dips the side of his face to the inside of his knee. ] I’ve never seen your kind of stretching before. It looks specialized.

[trouvaille]

( might as well make virtue of what was always going to happen anyway; might as well hope to be endearing, because god knows she's never going to be other than like this. it's not that she's incapable of something more polished and thoughtful—she must have learned something for the fortune spent on sending her to the last swiss finishing school still operating and the ambient education that was growing up in old money luxury—it's just that it will never come more naturally to her than looking someone dead in the eye and saying the first insane thing that popped into her head.

and sure, a lot of the time that ends poorly. but every now and again it's that tenth time where something magic happens. also: fuck 'em, that's why. )

It's called yoga. ( she holds her pose for a time before easing into another one, lithe and lissome and somehow aimlessly purposeful. she does everything terribly deliberately in the way of someone who is each moment deciding, deliberately, to do something that just occurred to her. ) I prefer doing it in the air—you can do yoga with aerial silks, as well as, you know, aerial—but this is fine.

( in a silk studio putin couldn't manfully attempt to join in. he stretches. it's pretty cute. )

Everyone here is like, oh, I have like eight swords, oh, I'm from the olden times and I hunt demons, I'm so big and scary. I, ( drawing herself up like this is going to be good: ) am a poet. I'm supposed to do yoga and walk along riverbanks and make bad life decisions I can make art out of later. I'm not supposed to do things for reasons, that's not a sexy narrative that someone can package and sell.

( she laughs, and it's like the burbling of water, which is kind of weird if you aren't expecting it. ) Even the people who don't have their shit together here have like, this other level of shit that isn't together. It's fucking wild. The most enormous man I've ever seen is asking me about yoga.

( this is, apparently, delightful. )

Do you want to try it?

[usurpers]

[ people can say weird, or, they could just say oddly charming. at times eren can understand the words that come from her mouth, yet somehow, listening to them be weaved together in a single sentence was something mildly otherworldly. like they should be making sense, though the lack of never having heard people speak that way makes it new.

after a moment of staring, with his tail leisurely swaying it’s pointed tip like a cat’s, eren exults an exhale that bare his teeth some ways wider. the way she described people, and described herself— he could only genuinely assume she was down the route of artistic creativity, and preferred the flow in which it came rather than abiding to a single stem of reasoning. had he understood that right? ]

That’s one way to live. Fluidly. [ not quite aimlessly, which is understandable. said with a light heart, either way, letting any serious undertones about him settle with the rise of his torso, and his legs to press into an awkward cross (looked like they weren’t meant to bend that way, but they still do). though, here’s the challenge: yoga, he repeats under his breath and parts his lips to. ]

It’s one more thing you weren’t expecting to package. [ so, a nod: ] Show me.