Problematic fave

Recollectibles 
#1
It began with a text message, one hinting at a gift to be sent. When he did not immediately hear back, he sent it anyway, overly eager and comfortable assuming she wasn't spending a night out. It arrived some day prior to this moment, and though the courier said there was no answer, he did not... immediately worry.

But hours that should have been spent in dead sleep were instead spent wondering. How curious it was of Kaylee not to respond to him. She was very fond of Beauregard, he knew, and very much in need of attention that he'd granted to her kindly. He checked his phone again, and again, and again, to be certain that he had not missed her. Perhaps she'd merely missed the messages. Perhaps she was away on some sort of trip? Perhaps- perhaps he could call her.

And so he did, some hours before sunset, lurking in a dark room to avoid the dangerous countdown clock of sunlight. But before it could even rang, he was met with a distressing message.

The line had been disconnected.

How worrying, Beauregard told himself. Had she failed to pay her phone bill? Fallen behind and been afraid to say anything? Certainly she was still home, maybe even trying to reach out to him now to let him know she liked the very delicate necklace he'd picked out for her, patterned after her favorite flower.

It made sense to go visit her, truly, and so he left his house two hours before dusk, knowing precisely where she lived. He drove, impatient at every red light, feeling the ticklings of a kind of madness Beauregard was prone to. As he reached the parking lot, he moved up the stairs with a youthful vigor, almost giddy with assurance that he'd been right. She simply couldn't reach out, had maybe tried the planetarium and hadn't found him there.

But as he reached the top of the stairs and found the very gift he'd sent her sitting on the doormat, the prickles of danger became a bit sharper.

He took a breath, let his hand hover over the doorknob. Trying to smell her, or even her miserable cats. Not a single light was visible through the blinds completely closed over the window. He peered in, trying to see any scrap of the space. From what little he could see, it seemed... curiously empty.

Perhaps she'd rearranged her furniture. Perhaps she'd even sold some out of desperation. How terrible, if only she'd reached out, he would have helped her, certainly he would have. But the box was here, the gift- she hadn't come to collect it. Was she hiding in there, for some reason? Had she not heard a knock on her door? She'd been lonely, perhaps something of recluse when he didn't summon her out. A disconnected phone, sold furniture, a knock on the door ignored out of some... depressed state.

A polite knock on the door, and he called out, cheerful.

"Kaylee, darling, I've come to check that you're alright."

Silence. He sought to peer in with his ability to read emotions, to warp and change them, trying to find something he could grasp on to in order to prove to himself that she was at least in there. Hiding. Not from Beauregard, obviously. But from the world. How terrible for her, what a state she had to be in.

"Kaylee?"

Nothing. Hopefully she wasn't hurt, or simply too upset to even move. It was a sense of duty, a need to protect her, that led him to twist at the doorknob and find it locked. No matter, there were ways in when you were very strong. A-one, a-two, a-three, and he shoved his shoulder against the door with supernatural force, feeling the entire frame shudder.

A-one, a-two, a-three, again.

Once more, and three times was the charm, sending the door flying in noisily and Beauregard revealing an obviously vacated space. There were vacuum lines on the carpet, the smell of professional cleaning on the air. Beauregard found some twitch in his lip, and as he stood in the doorway, his mind twisted and turned on itself, thoughts some writhing mass growing darker and angrier with every second.

"Kaylee?" he asked one last time, and he heard the sound of some neighbor stepping out next door, likely wondering what all the fuss was about.

Beauregard hated that name. "Kaylee." It was childish. He'd thought many times he ought to come up with a better one for her and compel her to commit to it. Here he hated it more than before, hearing it echo in an empty space. He brought his hands together, palms and fingers flat against one another, resting the sides of his index fingers against this lips and chin.

She could not have abandoned him, and yet-

And yet it appeared she had.

"Well, then," he said quietly to himself, realizing some elderly neighbor was demanding answers of him. Beauregard offered nothing as he took to the skies as a version of himself that could not even begin to betray the great sense of harm he needed to cause to someone. Kaylee, ideally, but he knew better than to hope to find her.

Someone else. He would find a motive however he needed. There was daylight still, which meant that Taraneh could not appear to try to tame him somehow, or offer stupidly to help, as if this was a mission with a goal other than finding any way to feel satisfied again. It could be a feeding, or violence, or some prompt replacement friendship. His very being seemed to quiver with a maddened energy.

It was just beginning to rain as he made his way southeast to quieter streets, and it worked its way into a downpour that rendered it unwise to fly. He tucked himself against the side of a store he knew, but that appeared to be closed. Curious, given that he'd thought it to be open twenty-four hours. (If only he'd known it was temporarily closed due to apparent murders within.)

His feathers ruffled as he hoped to dry off, eyes on the empty parking lot as he listened to the sound of anyone approaching to perhaps seek shelter from the rain as the sky swiftly darkened.
Wehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#2
outfit plus a simple dark grey hoodie mostly zipped up


Yesenia was thinking of moving back home, actually.

Turned out it was hard to find a job here. She'd have to give up Rocky, or else beg her mom to pay for him to be flown with her, but either way, she'd used up just about the last of her savings and finding prospects here was hard.

Or maybe she just didn't have the right... look to her, or something. Maybe she hadn't checked enough places, but rejection after rejection could wear a girl down.

She had forgotten to look at the weather today, so when it started to rain, she'd done her best to cover up her very sensitive hair with her hood in an effort to protect it from poofing terribly, but a hoodie wasn't waterproof, so...

She was running for the awning of a closed store (another job she could have attempted if it was open) for some version of shelter before it got too bad, a hand holding her hood over her hair because otherwise the wind might up and blow it away.
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#3
Good things came to those willing to wait.

He prodded at his feathers, preening to pass the time. But eventually the sound of footsteps on damp pavement caught his hear, and he looked toward it. Young and female, darker skinned than who he was looking for.

She would have to do.

Letting his feathers settle, albeit less than perfectly given their dampness, he took a few small hops toward her, looking directly up toward her face with beady eyes of a blue that would be strange on a bird.

At least she offered the same sort of scent, the promise of a high. He wondered what she could do, what tricks she held.

Hopefully not Kaylee's, though he could likely manage to eliminate that option for her if he was willing to stand through a bit of pain.
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#4
She had totally missed the bird at first as she got under the awning and gave a little involuntary shiver for her recovery.

Thankfully it seemed she'd managed to avoid the downpour, but as she pulled away the hood and patted a hand to her hair, she gave a quiet groan as she could feel droplets having hit the top and the sides. Worst.

A little tickle at the corner of her vision prompted her to look down, and — "Oh!" she exclaimed, taking one tiny single step back as if she'd about been about to step on it. She hadn't. But still. "Uhm, hi! Are... you hungry?" she said slowly, ponderously as she slipped her hands into her pockets as if to check for food. But sometimes she stole oyster crackers from delis and stuff, so...

Aaaaand it looked like she was out of stock. "I don't have anything, I'm sorry," Yesenia apologized genuinely, lacking the stammering she might have given an actual human. But she'd always been better at talking to animals than people.
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#5
Truly, he was not hungry. Beauregard fed regularly enough that he was rarely ever sincerely famished.

But there was a hunger for something now, something to soothe a very unkind burning within him.

She gave an unnecessary apology, more than well equipped to provide food even with empty pockets. For now, he turned his attention to her shoes, eyeing the laces and hopping nearer. If she didn't shoe him away, he sought to grab one of the loops and tug.

Beauregard had time to spare this evening on games before dinner.
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#6
She froze as he neared, though not of fear of him, just... fear of scaring him away? He was such a nice looking bird. Maybe he'd let her take a picture of him?

She gave a little twitch as he grabbed for her shoelace, surprised. And then he pulled at it. And.

Yesenia laughed. "Oh my god, this is so cute!" she exclaimed, pulling her phone out and double tapping a side button so it opened to her camera.

She hit record once it was positioned right, but watched him with her real eyes, charmed by the antics of animals maybe a little too easily.
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#7
How charming he could be with the simplest efforts in this form. She fell into noises of delight, music to his ears. Tugging at the laces, seeking to stretch them out, he happily stayed in frame.

The camera would need to go eventually. He could take it when the time came.

For now, he hopped back, stretching out his wings to reveal white bands beneath, performing a slow twirl as his tail feathers spread.
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#8
The laces came loose easily, and as he hopped back, she moved to kneel so he hopefully wouldn't suddenly decide she was threatening. "Precioso," she complimented fondly as he turned around for her, setting her recording level.

"You are a very beautiful bird, and I think you know that. Are you someone's pet?"

Rocky would love a friend, she thought to herself. Maybe she could take him home. To... her home she could no longer afford. Let's not think about that. Pretty bird!
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#9
Beauregard was certainly no one's pet. The rain poured beyond the awning, wind bringing brief mists toward them.

As he twirled, he turned his gaze up, looking for something in particular.

Cameras. He was happy not to see any, and truly, that didn't surprise him. The business here seemed somewhat below the board.

In a sudden flutter of wings, he hopped nearly straight up, hoping to land on her shoulder. Beauregard did not want someone already bearing the marks of a vampire, and what an easy way to check.
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#10
She did pull back in surprise, giving a little gasp for it too as she tugged her phone to her chest protectively. You get certain instincts when you can't afford new things.

But he'd land at her shoulder, and she turned her head warily to eye him, her hair fluffing out of the way in the process. He really did seem... very well trained. "Hellooo," she greeted, deciding to end the video and start a new one in selfie mode. "Just don't poop on me, okay?"

Please. It would be so embarrassing. She held the phone out, giving a smile as she tilted her head just the tiniest bit towards him, and snapped a picture.
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#11
It was warmer here, nestled near her hair. She flipped her camera around, and he looked knowingly into it, tilting his head in toward her for a better picture.

How naughty it would be to speak on camera. And yet, how delightful it would be to see her face change on the screen.

"Such a lovely smile."

How quickly would it fade?
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#12
Good God, this bird seemed almost sentient in how he acted. Her smile was even warmer for it in the selfie, and then!

Her jaw literally dropped as he spoke so close to her, and her fingers also dropped her phone in surprise. Sometimes despite certain instincts, you're still a klutz.

But she couldn't even focus on it as it recorded face down for what would be a blacked out video.

"You—" she started, and then faltered, looking around. Maybe there was someone else here? But, no. There was no one else here, and she looked at the bird again.

"You talked?"

Maybe like a parrot???
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#13
Bird faces were terribly inexpressive. His beady eyes widened in mock surprise.

"Shh," he hushed, walking toward the edge of her shoulder toward her arm, wishing she might hold it out for him to reach the end.

The sky continued to darken, the rain relentless. His vision remained excellent, of course.

"You must have some power. You control... fire? Read minds? Grow plants? Something, certainly!"

Hopefully she'd tell him all about it.
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#14
He... a bird just hushed her? Yesenia found herself easily hushed, gaped mouth clapping obediently shut.

He was very close as his little clawed feet walked along her shoulder, and she managed to raise her arm some in case he... wanted. More space to walk. And talk.

And. Then he went with a flourished question, identifying her as a... someone with powers, and she blinked repeatedly.

"I... I do?" she asked, even though she knew she did. It was just, her entire existence was a question mark.

"I mean. I do. I... are you a robot?"

Maybe like a government spy drone. How advanced was military technology?? Were her kind being, like... hunted?
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#15
That was a new one, truly. A robot. He was somewhat offended!

"A robot!" he gasped, seemingly as shocked as she was.

His intention had been to hop further down her arm, to seek eye contact, but it appeared she didn't even know her own abilities.

Surely he could overpower a novice.

Whirling from her shoulder to the ground, wings quick flashes of gray and white, he would shift from bird to man in a moment.

His intention was to grasp her by the throat, but she seemed to finally sense some degree of danger, and instead he merely grazed his fingers through the edges of her hair, reaching through to the wall behind them both. The positioning would likely be too close for comfort, for her anyway, but Beauregard was happy to be near with fangs that had appeared long ago in some other metaphysical space.

big ol' Dominus miss


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#16
It all happened so fast. First there was a talking bird, flapping off her shoulder. And then there was a man before her, a hand reaching out for her with blinding speed. She reacted instinctively and only barely in time, accidental in her luck, recoiling backwards only to find the wall meeting her. She pushed against it, bringing herself to her feet.

It was only after the entire move that she even mentally caught up and realized he'd been reaching for her throat, and her lip trembled as she stared up at him.

With. Fangs poking out of his mouth. Fear swept through her, and with it was the tingling cooling sensation rolling over her skin as it hardened and thickened itself. She felt it, knew it was her body defending her as it had often before. Still, fear.

"Ppplease don't, please," she stammered, and he was already very tall but she felt like she was shrinking on shaky knees anyway, trying to see if she could sidestep away and not risk... death?
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#17
She was so small, some frightened, trembling, st-st-stuttering creature that felt subhuman next to him. His hand moved to find her throat, to hold it with a firmness that threatened but did not yet strangle.

"Don't what?" he asked, tone carrying the mock surprise of before. "How am I to know what not to do if you don't finish your sentences?"

Beauregard loathed stammering. It was offensive to his ears and to his mind, pathetic in a charmless kind of way. He sought eye contact now, telling himself it would be wise to get it and prepare for if he made a mess. It felt as though he might.

hit


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#18
Any grip of a hand to the throat, even a light one, was enough to make her so much more aware of her pulse, and her breathing. She whimpered fearfully to it as she stared up at him in awe. He was... a monster, a real one. He'd been the bird?

He'd been the bird.

She knew her skin cooled when her ability activated, but his hand was far colder than she'd ever felt.

Yesenia reached for his hand with one of her own, trying to pull it from her so she could get away, but it was no good.

"Pleaseletmego," she breathed out, quickly, as if the speed of it might change his mind.



Wehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#19
This wasn't what he wanted, truthfully, and that only upset him more deeply. Beauregard wanted something far more charming, some pleasant walk before a willing feeding.

This was the opposite of that, rain blowing onto his back when the breeze shifted from time to time, a woman whimpering and pawing at him in fear.

His hand moved up toward the bottom of her jaw, holding it still as he spoke to her with intent.

"When we part, you will remember that you spent this time instead on a walk, where you encountered no one except for some... young female shifter who mugged you many blocks from here."

It was clumsy, but it would be enough.

He turned her head to reach his fangs to her neck, biting with customary force. His tongue pressed instinctively to her skin to assist in guiding the blood to his mouth without slurping.

Some seconds would need to pass before he would realize he hadn't pierced her skin.
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#20
She did not like his hand holding her face like that. She did not like the words that followed, as if she was going to forget all this and just... remember something else? How in the world?

She definitely did not like when his face moved in and he pressed to his cold lips and tongue to her neck. His teeth were sharp, and her unbroken skin still felt the pain of it. She flinched, gave a small cry out.

She did not like any of this, and it was enough to push her into a panic, trying with all her ineffective, measly, mortal strength to shove him away. It didn't work, and she fell into begging again.

"Please please please, let me go," she strained against his hold on her jaw, but there was only so much struggling she could do. How easy it seemed it would be, for him to snap her neck in half.

And then who would take care of Rocky.

Fail to push away


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#21
She would not stop her talking. There would at least be the soothing of warm blood, some rush that would either soften or worsen him.

But after a few moments, there was nothing. Beauregard was simply sucking at her neck like some overzealous prom date.

It was embarrassing, and his expression pushed into a snarl. Perhaps it was some... trick, and he tested to see if there was some power being used to weaken him.

There would be some answer in the form of pain searing behind his eyes, and his grip slipping against her jaw, loosening to hold her clumsily by the side of it instead.

"Stop whatever the fuck you're doing," he seethed, feeling a tension in his jaw.

miss sort of


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#22
Unfortunately, she'd never really learned to control it. Only to get away from whatever it was that was activating it. In this case, clearly the old guy trying to suck her blood.

"I can't— it won't— you have to let me go, please," she asked, voice wavering with the threat of desperate crying. There was some mercy in the loosening of his grip, and she tried to take advantage of it to get away from him.

Her control over her power was limited, but so was how long it would remain active before it took its toll on her.

FAILURE


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#23
So she knew her power! And she hadn't an idea how to use it! Lovely. The pain was enough for him to ease away in his attempt to negate her.

He had other methods.

The girl began to pull away, and it was enough that Beauregard hard to make this end. With one hand, he sought to grab her throat tightly enough to begin to strangle her.

Fangs lengthening, neat fingernails beginning to sharpen, he bit fiercely onto the side of her neck. He would draw blood by force, the numbing of his saliva hardly enough to protect her now.

hit and hit


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#24
There was a rushing back of the cooling and hardening of her skin that she hadn't even realized meant it had actually failed for a moment there. Not that it mattered!

His hand came to her throat again, this time a hold she immediately felt the strain of breathing for, the air leaving her in a delicate wheeze where there would have otherwise been more whimpering. Struggling in vain only hastened sparks dancing before her eyes, and her skin prickling in a much more human way for lack of air.

And if that wasn't enough, he seemed to contort even worse into a monster, his fangs growing and skin stretching taut over his cheek bones. She tried to scream, but it left her only in a pitiful squeal against the pressure on her throat. She tried to kick at him, but without seeing what she was doing the best she did was graze against his legs.

What followed next was just. Agony. Daggerlike teeth slicing into her neck, forcing their way through the enhanced mesh of her skin with so much force. She wiggled every manner of way she could to try to pull herself from it, to no end.

She was going to die here, and her dog was at home, and no one would care, and it wasn't fair in the slightest. Her fists beat feebly against his chest, fighting with all the nothing she had.
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#25
She fought and he clung to her neck like an unwanted lover, pressing his body to hers as he drank with greed. It was not his cleanest feeding in terms of sound, his teeth seeming almost stuck in her skin as he sucked blood from her like every cartoon would imply. Rain beat down behind them, and by now his back was dampened with it, slacks clinging unpleasantly to his calves.

This was not Kaylee. This was not the warm, heady rush he'd wanted. It was an ugly high, out of control and dizzy and prickling with shameful disappointment.

His grip on her throat would loosen, not out of kindness but out of wavering focus. Beauregard glutted to a degree he knew to be dangerous. He would need to heal her, lest he leave a corpse that would inspire investigation.

Pulling his teeth from her neck, from skin that seemed to cling to them, he simply leaned against her and breathed for a moment, wondering if she might slump to the ground. He would be tempted to follow her.
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#26
Her fighting dwindled as she withered of air, of the blood he drank from her. It got to the point where she was staring at the awning with eyes that kept rolling back despite her very real want to get away. But a body could only lose so much, and with every passing second she lost more and more.

The only thing that kept her upright at all ended up being his terribly strong body pressed far too much to hers. His hand pulled away, but she hardly regained her strength for it, fingertips twitching and barely breathing as her eyelids drooped, vision blurring and doubling and fading focus as her eyes rolled back.

The only coherent thought she had was wondering if it was over yet. What she could feel was devoted largely to the pain at her neck, and it was easy to feel like he was still there.

If he'd at any point pull away enough that she was left to support herself, she'd utterly fail, going down against the wall behind her in a crumple unless he aided her in any way.
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#27
All of it was dreadful. His high. Her clumsy slipping down the wall.

He sighed loudly, half a groan in the effort. His fangs had receded, and he was left with some other way to draw his own blood.

Car keys! An old trick, and they jangled as he freed them from his pocket.

"Don't talk to birds, you stupid girl," he mumbled, a lesson she would forget. He crouched to be next to her and promptly lost his balance, falling back onto his ass on the damp pavement.

How Beauregard suffered.

The key would take considerable effort to scrape into his skin, but he only needed enough to leave a smearing of it on the metal. (He certainly wouldn't be putting a finger in her mouth. He'd been bitten before.)

"Open wide," he said, looking to her face and realizing she was perhaps not ready to do so.
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#28
Down she went. Her head hung forward, the entire rhythm of her body feeling slow and... dying. He said some words that she heard but took a moment to comprehend. Called her stupid. Maybe she was.

And then he came close to her again. There was the sound of metal jingling, and she lacked the will really to look over and see. It just felt very tinny in her ears. And when he spoke, it was very close, the bass of his voice nestling into her head. She could still feel him at her neck. It was all terrible and unwanted, and so too whatever he was trying to offer her, not that she had the strength to really do anything but stay down like this.

She wondered if her shirt was ruined, the kind of empty wondering as she sat there mostly wishing she could lie down. She seemed to be just... tilting forward a bit, and didn't offer him much else.
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#29
She did not listen to his request. Rude.

Beauregard took her face into his hand, pressing his fingers to force her to pout her lips. He swiped the blood smeared key against the inside of her lip, admiring the metal afterwards to be sure that the proper transfer had occurred.

Satisfied, he released her jaw and patted her twice on the cheek.

"You were not what I was looking for," he said with a frown. "Very sorry, dear."

He meant it, somewhat mournful in his drunken state.

Beauregard rose to his feet unsteadily, nearly losing his balance, and in the process... stepping on something. It was a soft crunch, and he whirled around to it in surprise.

Right. Her phone.

He picked it up, then looked to her, hoping for eye contact.

"Look at me, or I will have to take this with me."
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#30
She gave him only the slightest struggle, barely vocal in her protest as he grabbed her face again.

Again...?

No. Instead he made her pucker her lips, humiliatingly, and she barely had time to wonder what he meant to do with her now before he shoved something absolutely disgusting into her mouth.

He let her go when it seemed he was done, and she tried to pull away from his cheek patting to find she had considerably more strength to do so.

Not that it mattered. He humiliated her further, apparently not finding her good enough for all the violence he'd forced onto her. She felt herself roiling in hurt, and a rare flicker of hatred that barely ever felt for anyone.

What followed next was even worse. She watched him reach for her phone, heard his threat, and something in her just... broke. Tears welled up uncontrollably where before they'd managed to stay down.

That was her connection to her family, her memories here, the conversations with the very, very few friends she had everywhere.

"Please don't— please, I can't afford another one," Yesenia begged, looking up at him, reaching up for it meekly like the beggar on the ground that she was.
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#31
Oh, the tears. Beauregard was high and sad too, darling.

"Hushhhh," he said, emphasis on the shhhh.

Eye contact, however bleary his own was.

"You will permanenten- permanently delete all evidence of this encounter from this phone. "

Successful! How talented he was.

And yet, in this moment, he did not feel especially good. Beauregard had come out this evening to feel admired, appreciated. Instead, she loathed him.

"I am very generous, you know," he said, though he hadn't yet given back her phone. He reached into his wallet, thumbing out some mess of cash and flattening it against the phone.

Beauregard debated simply dropping it all on her, but that would not earn him any appreciation. So he bent forward, offering out her phone and the money on top.

success


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#32
He hushed her. She remembered the bird hushing her as she choked back her sobbing, and how she was as he'd said. A stupid girl.

Deleting everything from the phone seemed better than keeping any memory of the bird that he was before this. She gave only a sniffling nod, feeling hopeless.

Generous, apparently, as he handed it back to her and she felt some shallow flood of relief. And he gave her money as well, apparently cottoning on to her financial state. Or calling her some kind of prostitute.

"Thank you," she mumbled as her eyes fell to the phone, hating herself for thinking of how she could now afford groceries for a few more weeks. She opened the gallery automatically, deleting the videos and the picture she'd snapped during the latter.

She looked back up at him, feeling... mostly just broken.
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#33
Gratitude. If she only knew how much of that she owed him.

He told himself this was better. Kaylee, in the end, was an ungrateful blip in his life. Beauregard had tried to introduce her to a better world and she'd refused it. She was simply too- too foolish to understand. To appreciate.

This all Beauregard told himself, but perhaps did not entirely believe.

Or even remotely believe.

The high was fading and leaving ugliness in his place. His smile was sloppy.

"You are welcome," he said, standing up straight and taking a step back out under the awning.

And finding, with a yelp, that it was still raining.

So much for a proper goodbye. In a flash, he was a bird again, flying sloppily out to find some private place to pout for the night.
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#34
That was all. She felt all manner of disgust with herself as she watched him fly away, thinking of how ugly he'd been and how he'd pinned her to the wall. And...

Then there was just. Nothing.

Yesenia frowned, blinking at her phone and the money in her hand, and her mind rolled in to fill in the blanks. Someone had attacked her. A woman. She couldn't remember her features, but she did remember her to be a... a shifter? The beast people.

She had her phone, and money, and as she checked her coat pocket, she had her wallet too. Apparently whatever the shifter wanted, she hadn't gotten.

How did she get this money? And why was she on the floor?

Confused, Yesenia rose, shaky and sore on her legs for the position she'd been in, but otherwise fine. She checked her phone and while the screen was slightly dirty and the entirety of it was a bit wet, that was fine too.

Weird. It was dark now — she should make her way home.
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