velveteenwolf: (Fem 3)
Peter Rumancek ([personal profile] velveteenwolf) wrote in [community profile] tampered2013-10-05 02:53 am

See me bare my teeth for you / Who who are you?

When; October 6th, early Saturday morning.
Rating; PG-13?
Characters; Peter Rumancek and Roman Godfrey
Summary; This curse... well. Peter wakes up as a girl.
Log; 

Peter hasn't been sleeping well these past few days to begin with. Dreams, memories, a white wolf with glowing eyes, with a name he refuses to give back to her. Death, blood, name of young girls that end up on the news and incite a small, backwards town to terror. There's fire, riots, more death than history gives in his dreams. These things weigh on him, drag him down so he wakes feeling like he's drowning under the weight of it  Letha, Destiny, fate he couldn't change for anyone.

He wakes gasping, like he can't get a breath, like there's something on his chest, and for half a moment, he's back in Nick's trailer, shoving the cat off his chest. Except it's not a cat. And when he scrambles, screams, his voice comes out high-pitched, instead of that low murmur that tended to rumble in his chest. Ohgod. This can't be real. There is just no way that this is happening. He's suddenly wide awake, uncomfortably aware of how his boxers fit awkwardly, tight in the hips and loose in the waist, and the disconcerting feeling of breasts. Reflex has a hand going down to grope at the front of his boxers and all appearances point the arrow very firmly into the female category.

He's cursing while he fishes out a tank top, and that doesn't fit him much better than his boxers; tight across his chest, the arm holes low enough to give an almost indecent side-view of her breasts. She's intending on running to the bathroom, to the mirror, being able to at least get a look at herself, at what's going on. But she stops short when her even smaller feet pad into the hallway, because she's halfway down the hall when a door opens and there's Roman. She closes her eyes for a moment, running fingers through her hair in frustration.

"Shee-it."

Really, this place could go fuck itself.
 
saturniapavonia: (kids will talk)

[personal profile] saturniapavonia 2013-10-09 07:25 am (UTC)(link)
Hyper focus to Peter's mouth around the cigarette could have been something Roman lived without. It happened even when he didn't have breasts. Now though it is all making a real mess of his thoughts. At least he can function enough to lift his lighter, the silver one with his initials engraved at the bottom. The click eats up a space in the thin air.

"I'm not keeping a tally but safe to say a whole pack." The flame touches the end of Peter's cigarette igniting it to a cherry red. Breathe, Godfrey.

Was this part of the transformation really with a wave of Lydia's fashion sensibilities? Really? Bippity boppity bombshell. Except it is Peter flaunting his ability to adapt and transform.

"I don't know. You tell me. Was all that necessary? You got a hot date?" That would be something worth knowing.
saturniapavonia: (gives no fucks)

[personal profile] saturniapavonia 2013-10-10 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
Godfrey eyes, bright, green and greedy are soaking it all in. It's stupid. Ridiculous even. Roman asks himself again--is he a queer or just forever meant to be strange and a mockery of the conventional.

"I got some cash." Which is a form of offering. Shit or get off the pot, Roman. "So I'm in. Without the dress." Big pillowed lips are returning the kind of grin.

"I can't fucking believe you're in heels."
saturniapavonia: (on the outside)

[personal profile] saturniapavonia 2013-10-10 06:46 pm (UTC)(link)
"You're the one that's gonna walk in those." Eyes cast down and Roman tilts to the side to see how high they are. Peter was short to start but heels look like they're not doing much at fucking all.

...Is that perfume?

What the actual fuck.

"Usually I don't spend too much time looking at girl feel." But he is right now. Then he steps back. Roman might be awake but he's not dressed in a button down because he hasn't left the house yet.

"You think it over. Gimme a sec." He plucks the cigarette from his lips and places it on the deep plate that was decided to be the ash tray on the table. This second he's asking for is to look presentable. Pride as a rich kid.
saturniapavonia: (catching fireflies)

[personal profile] saturniapavonia 2013-10-11 03:38 am (UTC)(link)
Tall is not the only thing that Roman is stupidly. Thinking on the outcome of what this means is important. The momentary thrill much like a thick line of coke will have repercussions. Except he worries that if he thinks over this any more he'll talk himself out of it. Yes. It's weird. But werewolves and shared dreams aren't?

He slips off his casual shirt for a button down and a blazer. Roman also gets on his watch and one of the few pairs of trousers he has. It's a date isn't it? He steps out not too much longer after. He would like to give an air of indifference to his own appearance but that's a bold face lie. Roman likes to feel good. Maybe it makes him feel likes hollow. A glance in the mirror and he slicks back his hair. Staring into his own face he hopes to find a sense of gravity, like a voice of reason will come to him. There is none. Now would be a lousy time to try and reach out to Shelley anyway.

Is he ugly? Sometimes he has no idea. Others he is sure of it.

Out of the room now and it's like being in Peter's presence, no matter the shape, he finds himself pulled to warmer, more lively thoughts.

"So...?" Big palms rub together for warmth and to do something. Normally he'd take the girl's hand or arm. Peter's not a girl. Really. Sort of.
saturniapavonia: (shameless cad)

[personal profile] saturniapavonia 2013-10-13 04:56 am (UTC)(link)
Really is a miracle what the City deems to be transferable for features from male to female. The eyes are at least the same. That is still Peter. Somehow from the change from skin to fur and eye color there was familiarity, blue to blue really does help. Real and surreal are taking one long, long walk together.

"It is my thing." Coat adjust and he even dusts off a shoulder to be more of a shit. "My thing is making the lady happy before I make me happy." Bullshit comes so easy right on out of his lips. It's a lie. Roman is, for this moment, very happy.

At least he has Peter. Peter is alive. Peter is within his touch. The sheer pride and comfort akin to ownership makes him feel confident.

"No car so we're going on foot. Drinks first. You can do that in heels right?" Even though he's turning away, Roman puts his hand out to take a hold of Peter's in an ancient, unspoken courtship grade action that happens without a thought. It still feels right.

Don't think, Roman. Go with it.
saturniapavonia: (on the outside)

[personal profile] saturniapavonia 2013-10-14 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
Doing a line of coke would have been in the preparation process but here they are. Hitting the streets is easy. And holding onto Peter's hand for something that's not some ritual is surprisingly easy. Well. What was he expecting? Heat? Electricity? Anticipation does stupid things like that to the brain. Werewolf, sure. But he's still skin, bone and blood.

"Sucks balls." He has thought about saving up. Saving is a really peculiar word. And paychecks for 'all the labor' he has been secretly putting in don't cut the bill for saving all of it. Roman is determined to figure out something. A prince can't live like a pauper. That's part of what he puts into his dates. That's how it is supposed to be. A bird flies, a Godfrey drops bills like crumbs.

"How come you've never had a car? You can drive."