#i will admit. this was partially a good excuse to throw in rp snippets

[thegreatyin]

how was the scoundrel going to fumble her anyway

(in reference to these two posts)

Well...

the scoundrel has. a certain complex about being in relationships. don't get me wrong, they have a complex about a Lot of things, but relationships are. definitely one of them!!

in short, they don't think they're allowed to formally date anyone. it goes against their station and honor as a (future) spacebat, you see. like almost everything the scoundrel believes, this is absolute horseshit and is kind of blatantly hypocritical when you consider their literal actual marriage wherein multiple space bats attended and congratulated them on their wedding.

but. well. they believe it nonetheless. they believe the masters will think less of them if they... "consort" with humans. nevermind the fact that they are currently extremely human, and their coworkers will think less of them no matter what. the scoundrel believes this with her whole heart. she isn't allowed to have friends, relationships, commitment, anything of the sort. any close relationship with anyone outside of the masters is, in her incredibly delusional eyes, forbidden at best and disgraceful at worst.

naturally, being the scoundrel, she breaks her own rules and has relationships anyway. they're just... different. and incredibly selective about their word choice. she isn't dating anyone, she's just having a Strictly Temporary Fling! she doesn't have friends, she just has Useful Acquaintances She Pretends To Enjoy The Company Of! she doesn't have feelings, she has A Desire For Power And What Rightfully Belongs To Her And Absolutely Nothing Else, Ever, Because To Have Anything Else Would Be Incredibly Uncuratorial.

this first came up as a major obstacle in her relationship with @peepersotherstuff's terry ven, when the scientist asked if terry was officially dating the scoundrel (after vae had been consorting with her in every conceivable way for several months straight), to which the lieutenant responded with hopeful delight, and the scoundrel...

Mercifully- or perhaps disappointingly- he falls silent once vae start braiding. A soft sigh. He closes his eyes again, patting Transport as he mumbles. "I am..." a pause. "Conditionally pretty. There. Will that shut you both up?"

The Scoundrel barks out a laugh. "Süß."

A fanged kiss is pressed against Terry's cheek, nipping at vaer scars in a manner most threatening (were it coming from, and directed towards, literally any other duo). The Lieutenant makes a soft delighted noise at the kiss, tying off the braid to lean into the affection greedily, sighing so... contentedly.

The Scientist sits quietly for a second more before taking a rather choice opportunity. "Are you two official, then?"

The room goes quiet. The Scoundrel blinks. They look to Terry- oh god, why are they looking to Terry? And why do they look like they're expecting vaem to answer??

Terry freezes at the question, looking very much like, well, like a fish out of water. Its eyes are wide, staring first at the Scientist reproachfully, like this is a cruel joke. Then vae look at the Scoundrel, and they can both probably see when it clicks that, oh. This is a serious question. He means it, and it is being taken seriously.

Terry freezes again, stammering, before gently reaching to take one of the Scoundrel's hands. Vae look... almost scared. "Ye- nnn-" vae take a deep breath, before meeting the Scoundrel's eyes. "Yes? That is... that is allowed, right? I have never, ah... nevermind. Yes? Please?"

Oh, Terry sounds stupidly hopeful.

The Scoundrel stares with wide eyes and trembling claws. Her hand weaves through Terry's fingers with practiced ease, gently squeezing vaem as she opens her mouth- and all that escapes is a terrified whine.

She bites at her nails. She rips her hand away and steps back, sweating bullets. "We- we have an appointment."

Without so much as a single word of goodbye, the Scoundrel turns tail and bolts out of the room, leaving their Lieutenant to flounder in shock beside their husband. He watches in silence, then, devastating pity.

"I'm..." he starts, then stops, and falls silent when Terry's face twists into despair. "I shouldn't have asked." a quiet note, like that changes anything at all.

the scoundrel handled it. badly.

she can't commit to things. she can't commit to people. if she does, she's not being a master, and if she's not being a master-

well. there's not much else that could fix her, is there?

and so, when @superoffbatter's louise proposed the same- an official relationship, no notions of flings or half-hearted one night stands or a claim to be broken whenever the scoundrel felt like it- they responded in much the same way... even if they were a bit more direct about it in the moment (which arguably made it worse)

The Scoundrel blinks. Their ears flick up and down, their mannerisms almost... anxious. "We-" their voice cuts out. They fidget, then huff and straighten in a vain attempt to appear masterly. It doesn't work in the slightest.

"We are not allowed to have.. engagements, with your sort." they dig their fangs into their lip. Even as they speak, they sound doubtful. "It is unbecoming of our station. To our colleagues, it makes us out to be- weak. Pitiful. Human."

The obvious fact that they already hold this opinion (and would likely continue to hold it regardless) seems entirely lost on him.

"We are, however, willing to court-" the Scoundrel fumbles for literally any other word. "Entertain! We are willing to. Entertain you. Yes."

louise, naturally, didn't take it well. she didn't take it well at all.

"I will not be- I will not be a toy to be cast away after you are done." she hisses. "If you won't be mine, I will simply leave. Our dalliances stop today. You get to be with the Masters and with no. One. Else. Isn't it what you wanted?"

Her hand pauses around the Scoundrel's neck. Around their shirt. Other arms grab her coat, the rest of her clothing. But they wait. The Scoundrel trembles in her many, many arms, face flushed, eyes wide in horror and trepidation and no small amount of a certain feeling that would get them banished to the depths of the Tomb Colonies for all eternity.

If the Silverer notices the look on their face, she certainly doesn't act on it. "Just give me the word, and you get to be- not human. To be distanced from me, like you wanted so much. I will leave. Give me the word. Do you not want to be mine? Say it. SAY IT."

They try to speak. Their voice cracks. All that emerges is a pathetic whine. They warble and try again and again, unable to get the words out, until finally-

"We don't," they sob, "We don't, want-"

They can't, they can't, this is all they have, they can't-

"We don't want you to go." the words are stitched together, muttered frantically as they cry. "We don't want you to go, we don't, we don't know-"

They say it again and again. They don't know. They don't know. They don't know.

they worked it out eventually. as shown previously, the scoundrel very successfully unfumbled that snakegirl. but it was... definitely a significant bump in the road, to say the least.

"Human." she hisses. "Is that the problem? Curators take mates- they keep to their mate for thousands of years. Is that the problem? That I am a human, and not a Curator? Does the idea of finding love anywhere outside your dumpster fire of an organization truly terrify you that deeply? Do I need to change as well, so you will accept being mine?"

She wrenches herself free from the Scoundrel, letting them fall to the ground. They shout in protest, crumbling to the floor in a miserable batty heap.

"Annoying. You're so annoying. You don't even know what you're trying to imitate." she grunts. "I've been putting this off for far too long. I suppose Hallowmas awaits, then. See you."

As she speaks these words, the Silverer moves to walk out of the room- hands stretching out to fetch her discarded clothing from the ground as she steps away from the Scoundrel. "Goodbye.”

The Scoundrel sobs, stumbling after her with a myriad of pleas. "Don't go, please, I can't, I can't-"

Their claws dig into her wrist without warning. They tug harshly at one of her arms, leaving red streaks on skin. This only succeeds in making everything worse. "This is all I have, Liebe. I can't- I need them to respect me, I need- I'm not allowed to-"

and it still arguably is, to this very day. even if louise sorted out her own bat relationship problems (through the most direct means possible)

Two arms- attached to varying points in her back- spin around and grab their face. She slowly spins to meet them, the limbs seemingly reorienting in position, sickening snaps and cracks of bone resounding as they do so.

"If you don't want to make the choice." she whispers in their ear. "I'll make it for you. You'll stay with me." she brings them closer to herself, eye to eye.

"The Masters won't respect you," she says. "Unless you have the will to power. You need to take what you want. They will never care for you if you don't know what you want, if you can't decide, if you can't make your own choices for yourself. They will never give you power, they will never relinquish it. If you can't reach out and take what you want, the Masters will never respect you. So say it. Say what you want, and I will give it to you. Stop being a coward and tell me what you want already. Do you want me? Then-"

Her mouth is full of sharp teeth. She draws closer and closer for a kiss, but does not finish. She teeters at the edge. She just needs the word.

"-Commit," two eyes sprout below her original ones, blue complimenting their green, "To it!”

The Scoundrel goes very, very still. Tears still drip down their cheeks, their hands still shaking, still clinging to the Silverer with all of their (not insignificant) might. They open their mouth, and all that emerges is a soft gasp. Their eyes roam over her face, her body, her everything-

"I, want," they tremble all over again, "I want you."

They say the words all at once, then- then, like an open floodgate, they can't stop saying them.

"I want you, I want you, I need you." they bring their claws up, tracing their thumbs along the edges of her lower eyes. "I need you, I need- I'm yours, I'm yours, I need to be yours, I want to be yours."

They lean into her, shuddering, eyes wide with desire. "Make me yours. Make me- I commit, meine Liebste. I commit to you.”

they still need to apologize to their lieutenant, after all. it's what vae deserve, given how much they hurt vaem.

The Scientist's face contorts, and gods, there's that damnable pity again. "Lieutenant-" he doesn't move off their lap, instead twisting to cup their cheeks and draw them close.

His breath is warm against their skin. His hands, even warmer. The Lieutenant only puts up a half hearted struggle against being pulled closer, still feeling numb, chest tight. Perhaps it's telling, how it leans into the touch.

"They talk about you constantly. They let you see their skin without flinching. They ran off at our wedding to kiss you senseless-" a hiss when vae start to protest, making vaer face flush. "You aren't greedy. You haven't missed a thing. Understand?" closer, closer.

His hands trail along vaer face, stopping to press his nails against the slope of vaer throat, tipping vaer chin up to look him in the eye. With the braid in his hair, and his legs tucked around vaer own- gods, gods, gods.

"This isn't your fault." an insistence, barely audible above the wildfire prickling against vaer skin. "Repeat after me. This isn't your fault."

Vaer eyes are already welling up with tears, and vae're trying to shake vaer head again in protest, but old habits die hard, and orders are so easy to follow, even if they are coming from the Scientist-

"It is not-" Terry's lips tremble, and it has to pause, teeth gritting, refusing to cry like a scorned school child with a rejected crush. "It is not my f-fault," vaer voice cracks, breath hitching. Vaer hands find the lapels of his coat, but instead of pushing him away, it just... holds onto him.

but.

He's so close, so so close, saying terrible terrible things about its beloved, just after what honestly feels like one of the worse moments of vaer life, second only to being literally publicly executed. And he's being gentle. It's confusing. It's enraging. And above all it's... really nice to be held. Vae feel awful about it, sniffling and torn between hating him and never wanting to leave.

"I do deserve them-" Terry mumbles into his scarf. "And they deserve..." vae trail off, shaking vaer head. "I want them to have everything. And if that does not include me, that would not be the first time."

Despite all of that, despite struggling to hold onto the anger of it all, there are tears sliding down vaer cheeks now, and vae shudder, voice cracking again. "Why can I not be okay with that now, when it has happened before?"

that's a suitcase for another day.