tampered | log | in progress [hell hath no fury]

When; Sept. 28th, early morning
Rating; likely PG/PG-13 for Beast's language
Characters; Beast [

lackingbeauty] & Dorian Grey [

nobodyneedknow]
Summary; In typical hot-headed and stubborn Beast fashion, she's gone to search out the gent who made her little sister cry- and likely threaten him to within an inch of his life.
Log;

Beast had always been a stubborn woman. Stubborn and temperamental, able to swing from soft to blazing anger in an instant. But it took more than an instant to calm down after hearing Doll recount the story of her meeting with the man she said was called Dorian Grey. More, because she still wasn't calm or happy. At all.

After all, she'd always been an independant woman herself- she hated to rely on others if she didn't need to, hated to acknowledge her own weaknesses- but one of her values was still family, the few outcasts and misfits that formed the Noah's Ark Circus- and Doll had always been the baby of the bunch. No longer that age, but still the little sister-

Which was why she'd come on her way in to work, turning at the 7th building as instructed, to find the mentioned cafe. Truthfully, Beast hated this atmosphere, this sort of social situation, because she was so painfully unused to it. Gutter trash from East End didn't often end up here, and she hated any situation she wasn't in control or aware of. But she came despite.

Not able to pry a better description from Doll, she set about scanning the few patrons for the one that looked the most well-dressed and arrogant. In her negative view of nobility- that's what a gent was. But at least she had the advantage of the curse's end- she'd never walk in to a situation like this on three legs. One true one, and two crutches. Not in the body of her self from almost ten years past.

No, she stood on two legs to survey the crowd, at least. Even if, with the short leather skirt and crimson stockings, it was somewhat obvious to anyone who looked that it was only a mockery, balljointed knee visible above her boot.

It was enough.

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"It's not assault yet, boy." She'd full on hissed it, low and full of promise, still leaning forward over the table, quivering in anger. It might have been ironic to a passerby who took care to notice. She was a beautiful woman, Beast, but she'd been told she looked most beautiful angry. And he, well- that was not a lovely expression on his face.

But it didn't scare her at all, merely tugged a corner of her crimson lips in to a sneer for his decorum, the tug at his waistcoat.

"Fer someone demandin' civility a me, you sure like to insult based on whose bitch of a mother married a man with a title 'r money." Perhaps that might sting- she'd no idea how people felt about their mothers, considering hers had abandoned her to a workhouse early on. Maybe it would- but even if it did, she preferred a harsher sting, like her palm across his face at the least.

"No, and neither was what I did to your sister, so we're quite even, aren't we?" The mask of civility settled over his features.

The problem with attacking Dorian's mother was that he could recognize a weapon when he saw it. "I'm afraid you'll find it was the other way 'round in my family," he told her. "And I don't particularly like to speak ill of the dead. But on the subject, did yours forget to teach you any kind of manner at all?"

Edited 2009-09-27 19:23 (UTC)

Beast hated when this happened- and it happened somewhat frequently, when her temper got the best of her and caught her in these verbal exchanges... tch, this was a troublesome place. In the Noah's Ark circus, most all knew not to mess with her, one of the main members in a place where your power was how much of an audience you could attract, your performance...

It was very different here.

"Wouldn' know, she didn' stick around after I became a freak." Spat back, and that in and of itself was a whole other issue- that she had a lot of trouble hiding. She'd always been too easy to read, even by strangers, but it wasn't an odd thing to think one might find shame in, only have a third of a left leg left to you- especially in London.

"But yer mother an' my mother in't the issue 'ere- I never said you done assaulted 'er, but I'm tellin' you if ya come round again, I'll still treat it like you had."

Dorian filed this information away. It was his own kind of pleasure, to know these things - that this woman's mother had abandoned her, abandoned Doll, with her hideous eye. It was Dorian's world, this kind of thing, and he didn't mind a bit.

The fact that she was so easy to read made it all the more interesting. "You sister is sufficiently ugly that I don't think that will even be a question," he told her, casually, taking his seat once more. Now that she had calmed down a bit, it seemed safe enough, and he didn't feel like staying on his feet, in any case.

It might have been a little pathetic, that of all the things that had been said, the look on her face, barely covered still with anger, but betrayed in subtle things, like eyes and mouth, that comment just now had wounded her the most.

Doll had always been the baby of their group, come to them when they were already older- Jumbo looked it, but Wendy and Peter were the eldest, with the bodies of their that had never truly grown, Dagger was still a boy, but she and Joker had counted as old enough for use, when Doll had joined the group of gutter trash at maybe half a decade old. She'd always be the one their group protected most fiercely, and this brat-

"Don' you say things that'll get you hurt, gent." She couldn't actually sit back and say she was not- to anyone but their misfit group, the burn scars on Doll's face were ugly, just like Beast's stump of a leg, scarred and mangled at the end now cradled in a prosthetic, was repulsive to view. But, still-

"I don' care what's likely 'r not, 'r what you plan to do 'r not. It's a warnin', and it's the only one yer gettin'." She couldn't stand to sit with him, even in mockery of civility, maintaining her stance almost over the table, glaring at him as she spoke.

Dorian could see that it was hurting, and part of him wondered if perhaps he had gone too far - but that bit of him only managed a moment of argument before it was subdued by his crueler, more dominant side. "Don't be so sensitive," he told her. "There's really no need for it."

He took another sip. The entire conversation was almost entirely beyond his caring. "Is that all, then?"

"Tch," One more moment she stood there, contemplating a nice image in her mind of what he might look like after a good round with her- using the whip in rather not the way he'd implied. But it was only a brief entertainment of the mind, before she nearly spat, standing up and extricating herself from between the chair and table, tossing her head dismissively, sending curls and crimson decoration whirling briefly about her face.

"It's all." She'd wanted to say more, threaten him more- but he'd backed her in to a corner, there, that if she continued, she would seem the fool.

So she turned her back on him instead.

Dorian went back to the Network without another word. He had people to watch - this was far better than any society folio. "Good," he said briskly, watching her in his peripheral vision, just to make sure she wouldn't decide to attack again, but otherwise letting her be.

log | in progress [hell hath no fury]

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sob why am I enjoying this so much /)_(\

Because it is fun 8D?

sob yes

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