make cheese, not war // human au, jor

[VALE]

The boots slid off the table. One leg flung over Vale’s armrest, fidgeting, while the other folded into zir torso. Vale leaned forward, both elbows on the table, and ignored the loud pops and cracks. One hip, both shoulders, multiple vertebrae. But who was counting?

Vale shifted again, into something resembling a normal seated posture, but ze grimaced. Both legs went over the left armrest this time, right foot twitching. Ankles crossed, uncrossed, crossed again. “A mirror? Interesting. Suits your style,” ze said, as nonchalantly as though discussing the differences between types of violin strings.

Vale’s smirk widened a tad at the remark on how the battlefield didn’t suit zir. “From you? I’ll take that as one hell of a compliment.”

“Sounds like violence is your art form. I can respect that. Do you know if it’s possible to melt someone’s eyes out while they’re still alive? I’d ask a physician, but they generally want to classify me with hysteria as it is. Fucking morons. If the psychology field rallied around Freud’s original findings on the pervasiveness of trauma in women, specifically childhood sexual abuse, humanity wouldn’t be this backwards.”

Vale cracked a grin, completely unaware of how impossible to follow zir speech could be. “But psychologists are so close to the connection between women and hysteria and intelligence. Intelligent girls are more depressed, because they know what the world is really like. Well, I know. You may not understand the logic leaping from here to there and back around again, but here I am, choosing my demons and a monster instead of the expected societal bullshit.”

Both hands pushed Vale’s black hair out of zir face. “I’m a moron. This isn’t just a date. You’re trying to recruit me.”

Finally, Vale stopped talking. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. Thinking. Fucking hell, this complicated shit more than expected. Foot fidgeting faster, which hadn’t seemed possible. Jor would know from the file that Vale had been the band’s drummer; given zir energy levels, it wasn’t surprising.

“Look, you clearly have the emotional capacity of a rock. That’s cool and all, with the whole horrorshow violence.” Vale swept zir hair back. Both legs burned, falling asleep—how the fuck did people manage to stay seated for so long? “But I’ll bite. I always thought Valhalla was the most interesting afterlife, anyway.” And hopefully where Clarence ended up.

Hands on the table again, Vale vaulted onto it, grumbling incoherently about discomfort. Dangling off the ledge in front of him, one foot propped up, ze leaned forward. Invading his space, but with both hands visible and resting on zir knee, away from the gun digging into zir ribs.

“One. Last. Clarification.” Vale’s gaze dropped to the scar on Jor’s collarbone, tempted to reach out. “Are you insecure enough to try controlling me? I’d hate wasting both our times.”

pittian ★ crow shapeshifting into a winged serpent ★ literally chaos

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