olden times for Tommy

[oohforeshadowing]

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

Comments

[bleak_midwinter]

He waits a moment for the cold to get mixed in before dipping in more than his feet.

"If you shift to a human, do you still get this kind of heat resistance? What does and doesn't change?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"It's...complicated," they concede. "It isn't an illusion, but it isn't a complete transformation, either. Say that I became a human - I'd feel the heat more acutely, yes. But I'd still have the strength of my natural body."

[bleak_midwinter]

"That's very interesting. Have you ever been surprised when shifting into some other shape? By something you could do, or could no longer do?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Oh - absolutely," they chuckle, pressing up against Tommy's side, enjoying the slide of wet skin on skin. "Have you ever seen a faun jump? I could get onto the roof of your stable with room to spare."

[bleak_midwinter]

That makes him laugh as well - the thought alone. It seems - fun. Freeing. He presses his hands into their shoulders, rubbing the warm skin there.

"Can you also shift into actual animals?"

[oohforeshadowing]

They sigh deeply, leaning into the touch.

"I've heard horror stories about shifters who've tried, though not since the Old Realms. As I say, it's not entirely illusory. Would the brain of a deer or a dolphin know how to change back? Could it understand what it meant to do so?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"That's what I was wondering, too. If instinct wouldn't override intellect and memory."

He slowly starts massaging their shoulders, working down to their back. He keeps it a lot friendlier than what he did earlier, avoiding any painful spots, just loosening the muscles.

[oohforeshadowing]

"It's one of our old myths," they say, voice a little lower with pleasure, a somewhat purring register. "A shifter is known for being a trickster, constantly getting the better of a dull-witted troll, but one day the troll manages to fool them into changing into a bird. They can't change back, but they're also not able to be a very effective bird, either. They live the rest of their life in a cage in the troll's home."

[bleak_midwinter]

"That's a terrible thing to do to someone. Trap them body and mind, your head rattling around just as much as the rest of you is."

[oohforeshadowing]

"It is," they agree, softly. "I like to imagine it is just a myth. Nothing more than storytelling. But so many of those tales have some small element of truth."

Tommy's fingers dig into an area of particular tension, and they groan in relief.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Or a way for others to feel less threatened by a unique gift. There's always a trick you can pull on a trickster, and have them be disarmed."

He presses down into the same place again, digging a little harder.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Precisely," they murmur. "Fae are - ah - particularly envious. Their illusions are powerful, but...fragile. Any transformation they affect can't stand up to scrutiny."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Not to other Realmers," he points out. "And maybe some humans have learned by now, but it's not as easy to poke a hole in their glamours to us."

[oohforeshadowing]

"...That's true. I'm sorry, darling, I don't mean to sound like I'm...demeaning you and yours."

They glance briefly over their shoulder to catch his eye.

[bleak_midwinter]

He kisses their jaw.

"You don't. But there are many reasons why your kind rule the land, and we work it, aren't there? Glamours are certainly part of those reasons."

[oohforeshadowing]

"That's...very true."

The Realmsfolk didn't need to actually have an overwhelming quantity of force, after all. They just needed to look like they did.

"...Do you know if any of your family fought, against the first incursions?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"I have no facts- no one's ever actually bothered to look into it."

He runs his fingers down their back, to rub their hips. He presses his nose briefly into their hair and takes a breath, enjoying the herbal smell of the soap.

"As far as the stories go, some did. And some tried to get ahead of what they thought would be our future and... collaborated."

[oohforeshadowing]

"I'm sure that didn't help how other humans saw them," Double says softly.

And when you're already on the margins of a given society, the decisions of a minority can horribly tar perception of the whole. They know that much for themself.

[bleak_midwinter]

"No. It didn't help one bit."

There's something he isn't telling them, and even if the hesitation wasn't in his voice it's there in his hands. He's a little more careful in touching them.

[oohforeshadowing]

They feel it. And they wonder. But this is already a delicate subject, and they can't blame him for taking his time over it, for not wanting to talk about it in full.

"...I'm sorry, Thomas. I know it can't be pleasant to discuss."

[bleak_midwinter]

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? Generations. I wasn't there."

He moves his hands back up to their shoulders to massage them again.

"And it's mostly forgotten now. People try not to talk about the specifics anymore. What remains is a generalized dislike of groups."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Fear of the unknown, combined with an unwillingness to know," they sigh. "That can be a...frustrating cocktail."

They loop their tail around his waist, giving him a little squeeze, a half-hug.

[bleak_midwinter]

He gives their neck a kiss at that embrace.

"You know all about that, of course. But it's alright, really. It's barely even something that comes up here anymore. Not overtly."

[oohforeshadowing]

They hum in approval, pleasure.

"I know. But I know it from quite the lap of luxury, and I...try to remember that."

Their own privilege is most vivid, most obvious, when they're in Thomas' company. Between their moments together, it becomes easy to forget.

[bleak_midwinter]

He wraps an arm around their waist and lets them relax into his chest, his body firm and solid behind them as they both relax.

"I know you do, but I'm not sure why you try to remember that. There's no practical need to."