Body and Soul

[SweetAsSuga]

Closed for KattDclaw


“The end times are coming, my friends.” The man behind the pulpit glared down at the congregation, his steely blue eyes seeming to see straight through to their very souls. “Are you ready? Do you know where you’ll spend eternity? Will you be in Heaven with our Lord, happy and whole? Or will you burn in the fire of hell, the flames of your sins forever lapping at your heels?” His voice grew in power, washing over the congregation; mesmerizing them, drawing them into his web.

Sitting in the front pew, ever the vigilant disciple, Amelia Harway listened with rapt attention. Her hands folded in her lap, her skin pale against the dark grey of her shapeless dress. Her face expressionless as Reverend Harway continued to preach damnation to the sinners.

“Isn’t he amazing?” A woman in a black dress two sizes too large for her slender frame leaned forward to whisper into Amelia’s ear.

“He is something.” Amelia replied, her eyes fixed on the man before her.

For years Amelia had lived in the shadow of her father. A Baptist minister who preached fire and brimstone on a daily basis, he kept Amelia hidden away from the secular world. Her childhood consisted of tent revivals, street preaching, and countless hours of bible study. She could recall the most obscure Bible verses at the drop of a hat, but ask her who One Direction was and she would have no idea. Church and home, they were her prison. Her shackles the ever watchful eye of her father. And, for many years, Amelia was alright with that. But lately, the desire to break free of the tyranny had become too strong and Amelia itched to fly the cage that had held her for so long. If only she knew how.

“Repent now and God will welcome you into His house with open arms.” Reverend Harway threw his arms wide, as if he were God himself. “But turn from Him and suffer for your transgressions.” His fist slammed on the pulpit, causing a few in the crowd to jump in their seats. Used to the theatrics her father employed, Amelia remained firmly planted on the rough wooden pew.

The pew was growing increasingly uncomfortable. No matter how many years she had spent sitting on benches and pews, she never had built a tolerance for the hard surfaces. Amelia tried not to fidget, even though her backside protested. If her father noticed her squirming there would be hell to pay when they got home and her backside would hurt far worse than it was at that moment. Reverend Harway was of the ‘spare the rod spoil the child’ mentality, even when said child was twenty years old. Instead, Amelia directed her fidgeting to her hands, her fingers twisting the bulletin. The paper crinkled and she paused, watching her father to see if he had noticed the noise. But Reverend Harway was focused only on his sermon and striking the fear of God into his parishioners. Because the more they feared God, the more money they put in the collection plate.

***​

The steady beep beep beep of the alarm clock was too loud for the closet-sized room. With a tired sigh, Amelia rolled over and pressed the snooze button. An orange haze filled the room as the sun crested the horizon, the light streaming right in Amelia’s face causing her to squint as she looked at the clock. The red number glared out 6:00, which meant that she needed to get her butt out of bed if she was going to get her father’s breakfast ready in time.

Reverend Harway had a strict schedule every morning. He woke at precisely 6:15 and showered. By 6:30 he was dressed and ready for a breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. The table had to be set exactly the way he liked with his coffee and juice to the right of the plate and the morning paper on the left. The routine had been the same for as long as Amelia could remember. Once it had been her mother’s job to make breakfast, but, since her death ten years ago, Amelia had been tasked with getting up early enough to have the food on the table by the time Reverend Harway was ready to eat. Only once was she late in getting the food on the table, and the good Reverend had made certain that she never slept late again.

Once breakfast was finished and on the table, Amelia was, finally, able to begin her own day. As her father wolfed down his breakfast, Amelia retreated to the quiet sanctuary of her room. She had exactly thirty minutes to dress and walk the five blocks it took to get to Fulton Community College.

Figuring out what to wear was the easiest part of Amelia’s mornings. Her wardrobe was filled with nothing but dresses, skirts, and blouses. Everything was shapeless and, usually, one size too big. Reverend Harway preached modesty and expected his daughter to dress accordingly. Her clothes had come from rummage sales and thrift stores and, though Amelia would never admit it to her father, she despised them all. It hadn’t bothered her to wear the sexless clothing when she was younger, but now that she was a woman Amelia hated looking like a child playing dress up in her mother’s clothes. Finally she was out in the world, at least she was every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and she was surrounded by girls who had the freedom to dress the way they wanted. Clothing, for them, was a way to show their personalities, to show off their individuality. They showed off their bodies in a way that was free of shame and embarrassment. Amelia envied them.

After donning an ankle length, oatmeal colored skirt and a blue blouse that was buttoned all the way up, Amelia unwound the pigtail braids that she had slept in. Auburn hair, made wavy by the braids, tumbled past her shoulders. Studying her reflection in the mirror, Amelia played with the lush strands, pulling them and twisting them into different styles, wishing that she could wear her hair in anything but the simple braid her father insisted on. Stifling a weary sigh, Amelia’s fingers flew as they repeated the familiar motions of the French braid. She hated it, but it was better to do as the Reverend asked than to suffer the consequences.

***​

As usual, Amelia arrived at Fulton thirty minutes before her first class was set to start. She liked to get there early, giving herself time to settle in and finish any homework that she might have left. At least that was the excuse she gave her father. In reality, Amelia used the time in the computer lab surfing the internet, something that was forbidden at home. The good Reverend kept the computer in his study, which was always locked so as to keep Amelia from his “personal space.”

“Oh my god, did you see Stephanie’s outfit last night?”

The voice startled Amelia. Usually the lab was empty so early on a Monday morning. Glancing up from the screen, she noticed two girls, dressed nearly identical in miniskirts and tank tops, walking into the otherwise deserted room.

“I know, talk about slutbag.” The other girl replied, a look of disgust on her face. “And did you see the way she was all over Jimmy? I mean, c’mon, the girl is a total whore.”

Quickly losing interest in Bobbsey Twins, Amelia turned her attention back to the computer.

“Ha, maybe we should give this guy Steph’s number.” Twin number one’s gleeful cackle caught Amelia’s interest and she peeked over the computer screen. They were standing in front of the Community Announcement Board looking at a flyer. Nearly every public area in the college had one of those boards and Amelia had never really paid any attention to them.

“Bet it wouldn’t take too much to convince her to take off her clothes.” Twin Two giggled. “It’s not like she wears much to start with.”

The two tore something off one of the fliers and, still giggling, left the computer lab. Silence, once again, dominated the room. Checking the time on the computer screen, Amelia logged off and gathered her things. Heading out of the lab, she paused at the board to see what the two girls had been so interested in. The board was a mess of colorful fliers, some seeking roommates, others promoting parties, and still more that advertised various “help wanted” or “job seeking”. But it was the flyer that sat nearly dead center in the board that caught Amelia’s attention.

ARTIST SEEKS NEW MUSE

The top of the bright, nearly neon, green poster read. While the basic message was generic, one phrase stood out to Amelia: Must be comfortable posing nude.

“Oh my.” She muttered.

Nude model…could she do it? Her mind churned. She’d been looking for a way to break out, to escape her father’s iron grip on her life. Could this be the answer? What better way to take hold of her own life than by taking hold and owning her own body. Before she could lose her confidence, Amelia grabbed one of the squares off the flier that held the artist’s phone number. Now if only she could find a phone before she lost her nerve.

 

[KattDclaw]

“Oh god! No! Please! Aiyeeeee!” The high pitched female voice cried in fear. Her over-embellished scream was followed by a rather unnatural and lack luster gurgle and a few insect clicks put in for good measure. There was a pause, then another “Aiyeeeee!” followed by the cluttered noise of high heels on concrete.

All the while a pair of sapphire eyes watched with indifference as the bottled blonde shuffled across the nearby screen for her very life. Of course, at the very last moment she took an over-rehearsed fall and sat there on her rump to watch the man in the horribly cliché rubber suit come shuffling closer. She gave another fitful scream, the fear on her pretty face made her look more like she was trying to squeeze out last night’s dinner than actual terror.

Aurora ‘Rory’ Redding let out an exasperated sigh and turned the volume down just in time for the scene to end in buckets of bright red blood from her place upon her large sofa.

“Stupid gash deserved it. Who goes to an abandoned nuclear power plant in high heels anyway?” Rory said aloud to no one in particular, though she received an answer regardless. A furry ball near the other end of the couch wiggled and a pointed ears head emerged and peered in Rory’s direction. A curly tail soon followed and offered a waggle and that look turned expectant.

“Exactly. Thanks for backing me up, Sam.” Rory said before she brought a hand to her mouth and stifled a rather large yawn. The Swedish Vallhund Sam just gave another wag of its tail before flopping back onto the couch.

Rory sat for another minute and watched as another scene started up on the flat screen TV across the room. At this point she was thoroughly done with the shitfest of a movie, which was rather surprising because the woman usually enjoyed the really cheesy B-movies; though as of late she simply hadn’t been able to enjoy anything.

Rory was in a funk. Some called it Artist’s block, but at this point the label didn’t really matter one damn bit. Her paint brushes had turned against her, the blank canvas mocked her openly in its lewd whiteness. Her pencils refused to make marks and even her tablet didn’t want to work right. They were all against her, somehow she was sure of it, if Rory could she would have tried to pin the government into it as well. But that would take some kind of creativity; there was an undeniable lack of creativity coming from Rory Redding at the moment.
With another sigh she pushed up from the couch and stretched. Rory stood a good five foot seven inches tall, with an athletic frame that offered sleek, sensuous curves of a dancer. Her shoulders were straight and proud, her bosom small and perky, a slim waist and slender hips and tight little backside that wouldn’t quit. She had naturally brown hair, though more often than not it was dyed in some outrageous hue or combination of colors. At the moment it was a mixture of pink and magenta, shaved on the sides with the rest falling to one side or the other of her head and face. It had been a few weeks since she had taken a razor to her scalp and the sides and back of her head had just a slight fuzz to it, a dark brown that made the bright color of the rest of her hair stand out that much more.
Her face was attractive, with a strong jaw and an expressive quality to it that made it hard for Rory to hide her emotions. Those lips were full and her mouth a little large for her face, though it only added to the unique quality that made up Rory. Usually they were twisted up in some kind of smile, or being nibbled upon, rarely did they find time to be still. Yet at the moment they wore a lifeless frown, more of a sour puss that some grumpy old defeated man would wear.

Her hair fell in tumbles to the right as she stretched, her arms reaching out over her head briefly as she leaned up on her tippy toes. Her back arched and Rory tightened her backside before she relented with a grunt. She hadn’t stretched in while, hell, she hadn’t thought of doing yoga since her paint brushes had all turned to punks. Her entire life had been thrown for a loop, perhaps the artist block had caused a little depression to set it, or maybe it had already been there and that was what trigged the block. Rory mulled over which came first, the chicken or the egg as she shuffled in her house slippers towards the kitchen. Her frame was all but hidden by the baggy sleeping pants and bathrobe, both light blue in hue.

She glumly searched the fridge for the fifth time tonight, as if there would be something different in this time. She had already gone through all the alcohol in the house, not that she had an ample supply of anything good. The few beers and half empty bottle of mead had left her tingly and tipsy for a few hours, but now in the middle of the night Rory was wide awake and without a drop of the good stuff to see her off to sleep. With a defeated sense in her chest she closed the fridge door and shuffled back to the living room. Rory turned off the TV and stood in the welcoming embrace of the darkness for long moments. She usually enjoyed these moments; it always gave her time to go off exploring the deepest parts of her imagination. Now, all these moments did was remind her of just how empty her life was.

Funny, since she had a ‘boyfriend’ and a successful business. Besides art, Rory had a certain knack with computers and web design. She ran a lucrative business out of her two story town house, which left her with plenty of time to pursue her artistic side. Art had always come easy, ever since she was old enough to hold a brush. Her parents, both flower children, had been her biggest supporters since before she could remember. Rory went to college and graduated with a major in art, though finding anything to do with it had been tricky. Thankfully she had other skills to fall back on, thus art became more of a hobby and fun thing to do. She was good at it, her name was well known in the artistic circles and she had many well placed connections.

None of it mattered though if she couldn’t pick up the damn brush and create.

To make matters even worse, the person who thought of himself as her boyfriend, a one Maxwell Worthington, was a thorn in her side. Rory shouldn’t have been surprised, Max was drop dead gorgeous, but the only thing his head was good for was keeping rain out of his neck. They had absolutely nothing in common, except for an active sex life. To her, that wasn’t enough, it had been fun but there had to be more to it than just that. Of course, she hadn’t bothered to tell him any of that. Instead, she simply retreated inward and stopped answering her phone, perhaps after a solid week he would take a hint.

Probably not, he was a man after all.

Rory retreated to her upstairs bedroom with Sam hot on her heels. She collapsed into bed and sat there sprawled out on her back for what felt like hours, simply staring at the ceiling fan’s blades as they swished above her. Sam was already asleep by the time Rory rolled over and fumbled for her cell phone on the nightstand. The white light of her phone was blinding as she slid her finger over the screen. She checked her texts and missed calls, seventeen texts and ten missed calls, all from Max. The sight zapped all the strength from her and Rory tossed the phone onto the bed beside her without a second thought.

“Fuck,” She muttered under her breath as she pushed up from her bed and shuffled towards her computer desk. She flopped into the desk chair and wiggled the mouse around until the screen came back to life. In the shimmering light Rory squinted and brought up the web browser. Instinctively she checked her email, only to find several there from Max as well. With a grimace she deleted them without reading, only to find another response from someone who wasn’t a clingy ex-boyfriend (She had already decided on it – someday she might tell him).

It was a response from her friend Lily, one of her go to friends when she was having a personal issue. They stayed in touch mostly through e-mail, so it wasn’t uncommon not to hear back from one another for a few days. Rory had all but forgotten she had even emailed Lily, though the title of the email ‘AMG. Fucking HALP!’ reminded her exactly what it was all about. She opened the email and read through Lily’s response. Dark brows furrowed above those brilliant sapphire eyes and Rory winced slightly, Lily wasn’t above telling her to get over herself. Rory had gone to Lily to see if she had any suggestions on how to break the spell of the block. Lily was always good at giving out advice, even when she wasn’t asked for it. Slowly those blue eyes scanned the screen and absorbed the words, the pinched, annoyed look slowly dwindling into one of realization.

“Why the hell didn’t I think of that!?” Rory bellowed at the screen, causing a disturbance on the bed as Sam leapt to her feet and let out a whimpering growl.

“Oh shut up, short stuff,” Rory nipped back as Sam approached and shoved her head into her lap. Rory scratched behind the Vallhund’s pointy ears as she sat and let the idea slowly be absorbed.

That was just what she needed to get her out of her funk. Rory needed a muse.

***​

She barely slept at all that night. Rory’s mind was awash with the idea and she needed to get it down that instant. How many hours she sat in front of her computer preparing the words for the flyer she wasn’t sure. Rory re-did it so many times she had lost count. Finally she settled in with the title:

ARTIST SEEKS NEW MUSE

All in caps, all bold, she decided against underlining it at the last moment. The rest was just fluff, contact information and the like. Just basic need to know stuff; at the very last moment she decided to add the last line: Must be comfortable posing nude.

The human body was a beautiful thing in all its abundant forms. Rory’s mind began to sink its claws into the idea as she finished it up and set about printing out numerous copies. Only a bold neon green stock would do, this had to catch the attention after all. As she pressed the print button Rory already felt a tingle of excitement. It was a familiar feeling, a sense of accomplishment, of great things to come. It was almost as good as creating, it was a process after all and one had to start somewhere.

Rory hadn’t even really started. Sure she made the flyers but that was child’s play. Actually getting them out there, now that would be the hard work. She was up for it though; the lethargy she had felt the last few weeks had all but vanished in the blink of an eye. By the time the sun had risen Rory was already out the door.
In a pair of faded and torn jeans and a T-shirt with the old Batman logo across the chest, Rory set off across town to every spot she could think of. She stopped at studios and coffee shops, a few other shops run by friends, her very last stop was Fulton Community College. She pinned up the last few flyers she had and called it a day, the rush of moment still lingering even when she got home. That was the worst part. It was done, the word was out, and now all Rory had to sit was sit and wait. Surely someone would find it interesting, but would they truly be worth her time? Rory craved something different, something unique; a muse would have to be someone truly worthy of the word.

How quickly that energy and excitement turned to bowel quaking doubt. When her cell phone started ringing it didn’t get any better. The first call was a joke, someone obviously trolling; Rory put it to a quick end. The next one wasn’t any better, since the dude asked if she was comfortable with being nude as well, the worst part was he actually sounded serious. It was downhill from there, in between the calls and texts from Max, the entire idea started to take a tragic turn for the worse.

By nightfall Rory had given up all hope. She collapsed on the couch in a pair of boxers and tank top, a pizza and a bottle of vodka her dinner and another shitty movie and Sam as her companions. She drank herself into unconsciousness pretty early and somehow managed to sleep through the entire night.

***​

Rory lay in a rather awkward angle on the sofa, her legs curled up in front of her and her head tilted straight back. The bottle of vodka was empty; the pizza box turned over on the floor, yet there wasn’t a scrap of pizza to be seen. Sam ate well that night and slept happily curled up in a ball on her side of the sofa.

Lurid and horrible dreams plagued Rory throughout the night. Rory felt herself running from something terrible, though she could never actually see just what it was. She moved in slow motion, never getting more than a few inches despite her best efforts. She hated those dreams, where were the zombie apocalypse ones when you really wanted them?

The sun had been up for sometime by the time Rory was drawn from her feverish dream state. A familiar song resounded in the back of her mind, flooding into her dream queerly. Yet slowly her subconscious mind made the connection that Rage Against the Machine did not belong in her dream, it was real…it was her cell phone.

Rory awoke with a snort, her mouth felt it had been packed with cotton balls and her head and body ached something fierce. She groaned weakly as her legs unfolded and stretched, just as the prickling sensation of them waking up caused her to tense and cry out. Sam jumped up from the sofa from the sudden noise, though Rory didn’t notice as she blindly fumbled for her nearby phone.

“Who the hell is calling this early,” She grumbled lowly as she snatched up her phone and squinted at the screen, only to see that it was well into the morning. Weakly the magenta haired girl pushed up into a sitting position as she swiped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

“Yeah?” She spat out rather bluntly, her eyes closing and her free hand came to brush over the bridge of her nose and pinch sharply.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

It had taken Amelia longer than she'd thought to find a phone. Not many public ones available when nearly everyone, with Amelia as the exception, carried a cell phone. But, after a good fifteen minutes of searching, she finally located a payphone (huh, so they do exist, she thought) and dialed the number on the slip of paper.

"Yeah?" The voice, rough and gravelly, barked in her ear.

Taken aback, Amelia looked at the phone, unsure of whether to continue. Clearly she'd interrupted something important or, if the haggard voice was anything to go by, had disturbed someone severely hungover.

"Um...is this Rory Redding?" She sputtered. Amelia hoped she hadn't gotten the wrong number, she really didn't want to make someone mad just because she'd misdialed. She hadn't worn her glasses that morning, a small attempt at vanity, so the idea that she'd dialed the wrong number was certainly plausible.

Silence stretched on the other end of the line and Amelia began to fidget. Her fingers toyed with the chord (yes a chord!) and she fought the urge to cough or ask if the person could hear her. When there was still no response after what felt like forever, but was probably only a few seconds, Amelia barreled on.

"Um, so my name's Amelia and I saw your flier about needing a...a muse? And I was wondering if you were still looking. If you are I just wanted to say that I might be interested. I've never been someone's muse before and the idea sounds interesting enough, but if you're not interested or you've already found someone I understand. After all, who wouldn't want to be the muse for an artist." She paused only because she was out of breath. When Amelia got nervous she tended to ramble, something that got her in trouble with her father quite a bit.

 

[KattDclaw]

The voice that answered was not one Rory was expecting. So far it had mostly been guys, immature little pricks who enjoyed a good troll. There had been a few females, though they had barely managed to get her name out before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Rory hadn't noticed just how low and deep her voice was until it came out, her throat felt rough and sore and even as she felt the bridge of her nose she was sure there was an icepick sticking out of her skull somewhere.

Why did she have to drink the whole bottle?

Without realizing it Rory had found herself reclined on the couch, her weight resting upon the elbow of the arm that held the phone. For a moment she sat there, hurting, confused, mostly hurting. She couldn't quiet remember the sun ever being so blinding through the closed blinds. The silence was awkward, at least one one of the parties involved. Rory was simply lost for the moment, unable to process the voice on the phone as something legitimate and not another adolescent prank.

It felt like a good ten minutes before the voice started again, only then did Rory realize she hadn't said anything past her initial terse greeting. Her dry lips slowly parted and a deep breath was taken, just a cracking of her voice deep down inside managed to get out before the girl on the other end proceeded to ramble on. Rory listened eagerly, a snort of a giggle caught in her throat. It was the honesty that got her, the slight nervousness that sent the voice on and on. It was hard to fake that, most people that could wouldn't waste their time messing with out of luck artists.

“Mm. Yeah. I'm still lookin'. Amelia, was it?” Rory managed to find her voice, with a little cough she cleared her throat and didn't sound so threatening. Her voice was still low, a husky murmur like she had just woken up (which was true). Slowly she rolled onto her back, her free hand smoothed through her magenta hair and came to rest upon the back of her head.

“Sorry for the snap greeting. It's been one shit of a week and I got in a fight with a bottle of vodka last night...it kicked my ass,” She said with a easy going laugh. The thought that she might be telling a stranger too much didn't cross her mind, though she realized she was getting off topic.

“But yeah...to get back to it. I'm still lookin', like I said. I'm Rory by the way. Not that...you don't know that already,” She started to fumble with her words, hm, it hadn't gone as she planned. But then again what part of this idea had so far? Just roll with it, Rory told herself. “So what caught your interest?” Rory found herself asking before she realized it.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Amelia tried not to show her shock at the vulgar language the person on the other end used. The voice was low, husky, nearly manly, but there was a trace of something softer underneath. Amelia didn't know whether or not the person she spoke with was truly male or female.

"It's um...it's alright," she stuttered a reply to the artist's apology, her fingers twisting anxiously in the phone's chord. A quick glance at the clock told her she had just over five minutes until her first class started. "I just um...wanted to try something different. I guess that's what caught my attention. This isn't something I've ever done before."

Heat colored her cheeks as she remembered the words on the flier. Nude. She'd never seen a naked body before, not even her own. Never had she thought to look in the mirror after her shower or when she dressed. The idea of staring at her own bared skin was too embarrassing to even consider. But if Amelia couldn't even look at herself naked, could she really let someone else see?

"I have to get to class soon," Amelia said, suddenly desperate to get off the phone. But she couldn't just let this go. She couldn't let the shame that her father had instilled in her linger. Despite the embarrassment she might suffer, she needed this. She needed it to help her break out from her father's control. "But do you think we could meet sometime? I would really like to work with you. That is, if you're interested."

 

[KattDclaw]

It was incredibly hard to keep focused. It Rory let up for even a moment the dull ache in her head would become too much and she would lose it completely. The voice on the other end was something else, something sweet and shy sounding. It made Rory think of a little mouse, ready to jump and bolt at the first sight of its own shadow. Rory let out a little giggle, a soft rumble in her throat as she weakly pushed up. Her magenta bangs swished out over the side of her face, tickling at her chin while a few strands jutted up here and there in wild disarray.

“Well if different is what tickles your pickle you came to the right place,” Rory said with no small amount of mirth in her voice. Despite the agony of her hangover, there was something about this little voice on the other end of the phone that was intriguing. The idea of something new somewhat stuck in her head, resounding in her skull over and over. She stroked her wild mop of hair and scratched the back of her head, as if that would stop the ache or quell the thrumming of the word inside.

The sweet little tone brought Rory back to this world; the mention of class caused her dark brows to quirk lightly. A student? Rory wanted to know more, but time wasn’t on her side. A shame really, it would have to wait and one thing Rory hated to do was wait.

“Uh…yeah I think we can meet up. What is good for you? I’m free all day. If you’re a student I know a little hole in the wall diner near the campus. Slick Eddy’s, ever hear of it?” Rory didn’t have to think about it. It was a safe and public place to meet. Not that for one minute could Rory imagine the owner of the stuttering voice to belong to someone she had to worry about. Of course, if it came to that, she always had her tazer. Rory had to stop for a moment and contemplate just how her mind went in that direction.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

The diner truly was a hole-in-the-wall, tucked in an alley behind a less than reputable bookstore if the blacked out windows were any indication. Amelia twirled the end of her braid nervously as she pushed open the door, the glass smeared with hand prints and what Amelia prayed was grease. A bell jangled above the door, breaking up the eerie silence that filled the diner. It was two in the afternoon and, aside from the potbellied cook whose apron had seen better days and a waitress with frizzy grey hair and a yellow uniform that was a bit too snug around her very ample chest and one or two 'old timers', the place was deserted. The smell of old fry grease and eggs hung heavy on the air and Amelia was tempted to turn right around and make a run for it. She had wanted to break out of her comfort zone, but this was almost too much for her to handle. Having skipped her last class of the day in order to meet with Rory, Amelia was already as far out of her comfort zone as she'd ever been.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. Amelia had a problem, if her father was to be believed, with being impetuous and not thinking things through. Perhaps that's what she'd done with this artist. She had seen an opportunity to break out from her father's tyrannical hold and had leaped without looking.

No, she would do this, she wouldn't let her father (or rather the thought of him) bully her out of this. Steeling herself for whatever may come, Amelia walked into the diner with head held high. Making her way towards the back corner booth, where the two of them had arranged to meet, she felt her heart beating rapidly beneath her breast. Amelia didn't know what she was walking into or even what Rory looked like. Who knew if she would even be comfortable with the artist. So many variables, almost too many.

Three times she nearly turned around before she, finally, approached the corner booth. Empty. Rory hadn't arrived yet and Amelia let out a small, relieved sigh. Taking a seat on the well-worn vinyl, Amelia waited, hands folded in her lap - there was no way she was touching that table top unless she had sanitizer - for Rory to make an appearance.

 

[KattDclaw]

How the morning seemed to just zoom by! Never before had Rory ever felt so flustered about getting ready. More often than not she would just grab whatever was at hand and throw it on, run a comb through her hair and throw some shoes on. Yet today was different, Rory never felt more female at the moment, one of the stereotypical types that had to try on umpteen different outfits before repeating the process fifteen more times.

Thankfully the only one that was waiting on her couldn’t talk, though Sam watched Rory from the edge of the bed with that curious head tilt dogs would give. After what felt like an undeterminable eternity she settled upon an outfit, a pair of black jeans and a white tank top emblazoned with the yellow and red X-men logo. Her wild magenta mane was slightly tamed, at least combed and tied back. The hair at the back of her head was contained in a tight ponytail that tickled at her shoulder blades while the rest was combed to the right, which swept over the side of her head and ear. She collected her wallet and a well-worn backpack before setting off without another moment’s pause.

It wasn’t that long of a walk, through the nearby park and along the edge of the community college. Rory found herself in front of the familiar, dingy greasy spoon before she realized it. It had been awhile since she graced the establishment with her presence, though she recalled fondly the late nights she had spent piling on ample amounts of greasy food atop a stomach full of booze. The thought brought back the dull ache in her head, those blue eyes squinted behind a pair of large black sunglasses and Rory hastily pushed inside out of the glare of that annoying yellow ball high in the sky. The bell clanged loudly and Rory’s dusty boots all but clomped against the tiles as she made her entrance. She greeted the display of greasy denizens far differently than Amelia. A easy smile drifted out over lips and in a high, crackling tone she called out her greetings.

The cook and waitress seemed to offer some hint of recognition, it was hard to forget the sight Rory could make. Without pausing she strode confidently towards the corner booth that they had decided upon. If she was lucky Rory would be first here, thought Rory was rarely ever on time. It was already a few minutes past the appointed time, though to Rory it was early. She came up upon the booth with her eyes downcast, her phone half-drawn from her pocket. Rory didn’t see the girl there, at least until it was too late.

“Ah, Shit!” The magenta haired woman all but squeaked, her voice rising and crackling a bit. That was it, just that exclamation as Rory stood beside the table and took in what sat before her. She was surprised, well, surprised really wasn’t the right word to describe it. Shocked more so, that sweet little voice belonged to a sweet little red head! The shock didn’t last too long, those sapphire orbs ravished what Rory could see of Amelia, confident to sweep over her as they were hidden behind her shades. Still, that smile widened across her face and Rory let out a little huff of laughter as she rounded the table and flopped into the booth opposite of Ameila.

“You must be Ameila? I’m Rory,” She started in without further hesitation. Her hands smoothed over the table top, palms flat against it as she adjusted herself, the vinyl giving that lovely groan as she wiggled her rear just a bit. Rory made a face, her lips twisting wryly before that easy laugh filtered past her lips once more. “Oh, excuse me…” She played off the unsubtle groan easily. It was simply her way of making most things into a joke, the dirtier the better.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Amelia had almost given hope of Rory showing up and was about ready to leave when the bell above the door jangled. Her eyes moved towards the door and then quickly dropped back down to the table. The woman that walked through the door, all magenta haired and with a cocky jaunt to her step, couldn't possibly be the mysterious Rory. But as the woman made her way towards Amelia, the girl felt her heart drop into her stomach. No. This couldn't possibly be Rory.

The woman dropped into the seat across from Amelia and all the poor girl could do was stare. There was no way she and this woman would have anything to talk about, so how could Amelia stand naked for her? This had been a mistake. Making that phone call, coming here to meet Rory. All of it was a mistake. She needed to get out of here.

"I am," she replied quietly, "but I think that I should go. I don't think this is going to work. I'm sorry." She ducked her head, her braid falling over her shoulder as she tried to slide out of the booth. The sticky vinyl held her captive, though, and she could feel the panic building inside her.

All her life Amelia had suffered the panic attacks. Any time she tried to venture from her cage she felt the weight of her decision pressing on her chest, holding her down, keeping her captive. She'd felt it her first day of college. And she felt it now, pressing against her, robbing her of breath. She'd been so sure of her decision when she'd called Rory, so sure that this was a way to escape the manacles of her father's rules. But it had been impulsive and stupid.

It wasn't Rory herself that Amelia was thrown by, rather her own actions in agreeing to meet with the artist and, possibly, model for her. Rory was merely the catalyst for Amelia's panic and misgivings.

Finally freeing herself of the vinyl, Amelia stood, clasping her shaking hands behind her back.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time." She apologized, her eyes planted firmly on her feet. "But I think I made a hasty decision in calling you. I am very sorry that you had to come down here." Amelia turned to leave, her eyes moving to the front windows.

And there he stood. The good reverend, dressed in his usual somber suit and frown. How had he known she'd be here?

Fear gripped Amelia by the throat and her knees felt as if they would give out at any second. She fell back into the booth, sliding as far into the corner as she could, hoping the shadows would swallow her whole and shield her from Reverend Harway's all-seeing eyes.

"He found me," she whispered, completely oblivious to the woman who sat across from her. "How did he find me?" Her back pressed against the stained wall, Amelia drew her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. She could only pray that he would not come inside. If he found her there he would surely drag her home and kill her.

 

[KattDclaw]

Rory sat with a cheerfully expectant look on her face. She was more than a little surprised by Amelia, thought perhaps not as much as her. Rory was fond of surprises, of seeing new things and having new experiences. If there was any inner turmoil going on across the table Rory was blissfully unaware of it. She as far too caught up in the moment, the anxiety of the meeting subsided as quickly as it had risen, there they were, face to face, now came the fun part. While Amelia saw the wild hair, magenta bangs tickling at her right temple with the slightest of movements, and that confident, self-assured smile that Rory wore so easily, Rory was checking her out as well. Yet what she saw as a not what she expected, the red head almost looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Rory almost thought for a moment it was the face of someone about to heave up the contents of their stomach. It was almost comical, Rory had a habit of finding things funny that most people wouldn't, or at least people who thought themselves better than everyone else. Who didn't enjoy a fart joke now and then? Or watching someone get hit in the genitals with a baseball?

Still, she'd rather not try to figure out just what the girl ate by a glance, so Rory's lips started to move without any real thought put into just what she would say. Rory did have the feeling to say something that would put the poor girl at ease, maybe a funny little joke or a sarcastic comment about the greasy spoon they currently sat at. Yet before she could even get the words past her lips the girl was apologizing, Rory didn't hear most of it after her first sentence. She still wore her glasses, though there was no denying the quizzical quirk of her slender brows, which soon was followed by a none too pleased frown. Was she angry? A little, she felt the burbling of that chilly rage starting within her stomach, though before she would give into her rage Rory would have a few words to say.

“No.” She put plainly as Amelia stood and started to explain. Rory wasn't having any of it. She didn't care what the girl had to say, whatever it was it would be a hallow explanation. “We haven't even gotten past introductions and you...”

Rory had to pull back her shades as the girl took a dive back into the booth and hid like a scared little child.

“...That was...unexpected.” Rory commented dryly, as much to herself as Amelia's whispers had been. Slowly she pushed up her shades into the nest of her magenta hair and cautiously peered out from about the curve of the booth. Nothing had changed inside the diner, though those blue eyes soon caught sight of the sour faced man peering through the greasy glass. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out they were involved somehow.

“...Isn't that...” Rory began as she narrowed her gaze and peered intently at the good reverend. She honestly had no idea who he was, but he did look familiar. “...The dude that played the caretaker in the Harry Potter movies? He was...uh...the old Frey guy too in Game of Thrones!”

Rory flashed a wide grin, pleased with herself and the joke as she settled back into her seat with the customary groan of the vinyl. The one thing that Rory was good at was making light of a situation. The girl across from her was simply too tense, to close to breaking, sometimes humor could help resolve a situation. For Rory, humor was also used defensively, there was nothing better to hide your true emotions behind. With her eyes no longer shielded by her sunglasses, Rory turned them upon Amelia and gave her an incredulous look.

“So how do you know ole Lord Frey? Is he your evil uncle or something? He sure has some creepy looking eyes...and when is the last time he went shopping for a suit? Hello nineteen seventies...” Rory couldn't help herself. She had intended be more comforting, though now she simply had to know what in on earth was going on. Maybe it really was her creepy uncle come to steal her way. They both had interesting concepts on clothing, she half expected some creepy children to show up behind the grumpy gentleman.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Confused, Amelia looked at Rory. What was she talking about? Amelia couldn't make sense of her comment. Who were Lord Frey and Harry Potter? Could they be some of Rory's friends? The confusion helped to suppress the fear that threatened to choke Amelia and she forced her attention to the words spilling from Rory's lips. She made herself to take large, slow breathes of air, hoping to calm the rapid beating of her heart. It helped a bit, but Amelia could still feel her pulse pounding.

"Who are you talking about?" She asked Rory, who was looking at Amelia as if she were the one sprouting nonsense. "I don't...I don't understand?"

Chancing a glance out the grimy windows once more, she let out a deep breath. He was gone. Amelia returned her attention to the woman across from her. Toying with the end of her braid, Amelia could feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She had probably made a right fool of herself.

"I'm...I'm very sorry about that." She said quietly, ducking her head and focusing her attention on the coffee ring in front of her, it was probably days old judging from the way it seemed to be a part of the tabletop. "I'm not used to doing things like this and I was a bit nervous when you arrived and I don't think before speaking a lot of the time and it usually gets me in a lot of trouble and I didn't really want to leave because I do want to do this, but I got scared and started to chicken out and I owe you an apology for that, I know you must be mad." The words tumbled out in one long string and, finally finished, Amelia took a breath of much needed air. She risked a glance at Rory, afraid that the woman would still be mad at her.

"There's something you need to know about me," she said before Rory had a chance to speak. "That man that was out there, he's my father and if he knew I was doing this he would kill me."

 

[KattDclaw]

This whole situation would have been more amusing if Rory knew what was going on. As it stood, she felt like she had sat down in the middle of a cheesy drama from the era of black and white movies. Instead of answers, all she got from the other girl was more questions. All in all it was shortly taking its toll on Rory, who felt the undeniable creeping pain of her hang over seeping into the back of her head and nestling behind her eyeballs. It was all too much, at least for the moment, at least until Amelia finally seemed to draw out of her little self induced panic attack and acknowledge Rory's existence.

No, it was more than that. It was the little tilt of her head, the way her eyes focused on the table as if it were somehow more fascinating than the magenta haired girl directly opposite of her. It was a little adorable, Rory couldn't deny it. She was like a sad, lost little puppy. You know what you wanted to do, just grab them and cuddle them and make everything okay.

Yeah, that was the feeling, Rory couldn't deny it as Amelia began to apologize. Her lips twitched, twisting into a subtle little smile. The last thing that Rory looked at the moment was mad, indeed, she almost looked a little amused at the situation. Like she found something funny, those sapphire orbs were full of life and light as they met Amelia's own, at least for that brief moment she allowed them to drift up from the coffee stain. Rory waited, with that cute little smirk on her lips, for Amelia to set it all out on the table. It slowly made sense, her doubt, her swift reluctance and need to get away from what was causing her discomfort. But then again, what really was causing it? Certainly not Rory, and she had a feeling it wasn't the actual situation either. She wanted to just blurt it out, Amelia was literally screaming the whole 'I have Daddy issues!' vibe. Of course, no one wanted to hear that, at least so bluntly. Slowly Rory's mind mulled over it, even as Amelia proceeded to reveal just who the man was. It wasn't until the last little part that Rory's brows quirked and the look of confusion flashed across her face.

Her lips twitched again, the smirk shortening before she pursed them and let out a gentle sigh through her nose.

“Look, Amelia. You seem like a sweet girl,” Rory heard herself say, it was almost like she was going to break up with someone. Never a good start. Rory sighed and shook her head, dismissing the idea visually before she started again.

“But the first thing you need to do is stop apologizin'. You ain't got nothing to be sorry for. You don't like the situation, fine, go. It's cool. I'm not everyone's cut of beef. It won't solve anything. You go and he wins. You're a grown ass woman, right? Your Daddy can't control you anymore. It's time you took a stand for yourself.”

Rory inwardly cringed. She sounded like some horrible self-help tape. Her nails rapped against the stained table and she quirked her face up into something ridiculous. “That sounded a little better in my head. Bleh...How 'bout we start over? Wanna go get a cup of coffee somewhere less greasy? Or whatever your are into...whatever makes you comfortable.”

Rory flashed that winning smile, full of confidence and charm. It came with a knowing look, a subtle twinkle in her blue eyes as she let them linger all too intently upon this girl in front of her. There was something about Amelia, Rory felt it now...she wanted to know more...wanted to see just how solid those bars were around her life. Most of all, she wanted to set this little bird free.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Slowly, Amelia's eyes moved up from the coffee stain to Rory's piercing gaze. The motivational speech - at least Amelia believed that was its intention - that the woman had just finished echoed through Amelia's brain, chasing off the fog that had been cast over this meeting when she'd spotted her father.

Looking at Rory with her magenta hair and free spirit, Amelia was struck by the contrast the two of them must make. One completely shut off from the world and seemingly afraid of her own shadow, the other as riotous as her hair and not afraid to speak her mind. Not for the first time, Amelia wished she wasn't so frightened of her father and of breaking out from his iron-grip on her life. Rory was right after all, she was a grown woman who didn't have to bow to Reverend Harway's every command.

If only she had the confidence that the woman seated across from her had. Self-assurance seemed to roll off Rory in waves and Amelia couldn't help envying such a trait.

"Coffee sounds good." Amelia said slowly, her voice trembled slightly as she fought to rid herself of the nervous energy that had filled her at the sight of her father. "If it's alright, we can stay here. I think that trying something out of my comfort zone would be good for me."

The smile that tugged at her lips was only slightly forced as Amelia settled into the booth. The two women didn't seem as if they should fit, but Amelia was starting to believe that Rory just might be the person she needed to help her break free of her shackles.

 

[KattDclaw]

For a fleeting moment Rory wasn’t sure which way it would go. Amelia drew her gaze up from the table and at a snail’s pace let them rise and meet Rory’s own. There was a fleeting ripple of something, a flutter within her stomach as their eyes met for what felt like the first time. There was something in their depths, something that called out to Rory like a siren’s song. It grew when those words quivered past her lips and that faint hint of a smile drew across them. All the while her own smile grew until it could barely be contained, splitting off into a Cheshire cat grin.

The tingle grew into a sense of joy as Amelia settled back into the booth. It was a victory, though minor as it may be it was a great starting point. Rory had won the battle but not the war, she could only hope that somehow she could keep Amelia from having second or third doubts.

“Coffee it is,” Rory said amicably, all but wiggling in delight within her seat. Her shoulders swiveled ever so slightly as leaned over the table. “And waffles. It’s always time for waffles!”

With that Rory leaned back and brought her right hand to her lips. She took a deep breath and let fly a piercing whistle that caught the attention of everyone in the otherwise quiet dining area.

“’ey! Can we get some service over here?” Rory bellowed and let a fist fall on the table with a resounding thud. It wasn’t long before that grin was back upon her lips, her gaze locking on the timid redhead. The frizzy haired waitress sauntered up with a look that said she would rather be anywhere else. It didn’t seem to faze Rory, who promptly ordered coffee and waffles. Then the dull, lackluster eyes turned to Amelia.

“You should try the waffles,” Rory said with a nod, that all too eager look still lingering upon her resplendent visage.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

For the first time in what seemed like forever Amelia was having fun. It had been so long since she'd spent time with someone her own age that she wasn't sure what to do or say, but Rory seemed to know exactly what to do. The magenta haired woman exuded a confidence and zest for life that Amelia envied. Was confidence like the flu; could you catch it simply from exposure? Watching Rory's easy smile, Amelia certainly hoped that was the case.

In just these few moments with the carefree woman Amelia could already feel her mood brightening. Her entire body felt loose and she could feel the corners of her mouth pulling up in an honest to goodness smile. Amelia couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled, and not one of those fake forced smiles that she put on for the good preacher's congregation.

Not long after placing their orders, the frizzy haired waitress returned with two plates piled high with every breakfast food imaginable. Amelia's stomach rumbled as the plate loaded with waffles, eggs, bacon and sausage was placed before her. Placing a hand on her obnoxious stomach, Amelia couldn't help the girlish giggle that bubbled from her lips.

"I guess I was more hungry than I thought." She said, casting a shy glance at Rory, who was already digging into her monstrous portion.

With another prompting from her gurgling stomach, Amelia picked up her knife and fork and cut a small bite from the still steaming waffle. Dipping the piece into the small bowl of warm syrup perched on the edge of her plate, Amelia bit into the warm dough. Her eyes closed and sighed happily as the flavors mixed on her tongue.

"These are delicious," she said after swallowing, "I'm glad you recommended them." Her lips quirked up in a bright smile as she cut another piece out of the waffle, this time loading some scrambled eggs on top before dunking it all in the maple syrup.

"I suppose if we're going to work together we should get to know each other." Amelia said after washing down her food with a mouthful of diner coffee. She gasped as it scorched her tongue. With her mouth open, tongue hanging out, Amelia waved a hand trying to cool her tongue. "Oh my, that was hotter than I thought it'd be." She laughed, knowing that she probably looked like a complete idiot.

 

[KattDclaw]

It was a great feeling, seeing that smile blossom across Amelia’s lips. Rory could tell it was an honest to goodness smile, not the type of courteous yet entirely fake smile one would offer in public. Slowly but sure the girl was relaxing, the stiffness in her frame visibly lessening with each moment. But would couldn’t she? Rory didn’t just sit there and stare awkwardly as the pretty girl, no, the magenta haired girl was all action. Her hands constantly moved across the table or in front of her as the words fell past her lips. It was chit-chat, nothing in particular besides a witty comment about the wait staff. Rory simply kept the momentum going, keeping Amelia focused on the moment. It was easier to relax when one’s mind wasn’t pondering on the future, it was something that Rory excelled at – living in the moment.

A slender brown eyebrow arched as she heard undeniable warble of Amelia’s hungry stomach. That mouth that seemed just a little too big for her face twisted into a knowing smirk for a brief moment. The plates were set before them and Rory didn’t waste any time. Already her fork and knife were in her hand and Rory tucked in like a starving hobo. She didn’t particularly have any table manners, she rested her weight upon her elbows and hunched over herself as she shoved the contents of her plate into her awaiting maw.

“Es gud,” Rory muttered, her cheeks puffed full of waffle, eggs, sausage and bacon. She chewed heavily and tried to smile, though doing more than a small smirk would likely cause her meal to plop back onto the plate. Instead of risking it Rory just munched down on her meal and swallowed heavily with a loud sigh of appreciation to follow.

“They’re pretty good. We should get you some crepes next. Trust me…I know a place.” Rory nodded as she paused in her meal, taking the moment to breathe. It didn’t last long before she was at it again, stuffing a rather sizeable chunk of waffle into her mouth, all the while her sapphire gaze lingering intently upon Amelia. It was unfortunate, as she had such a mouthful and Amelia reached for her cup of coffee to take a sip. Her reaction was just downright adorable; Rory snorted sharply and brought a hand to her mouth.

“Mmmf!” She chortled and chewed, trying not to choke completely. She hastily swallowed before a rough chuckle came from deep in her throat.

“Oh shit, sorry! That was too cute,” Rory said with a wry smile as she scrunched up her nose and finished chewing. Her smile returned as well, a sweet little one that lingered for some time. Rory was too quick though, already her lips were moving and words came before she realized it. No need to linger on the moment and let Amelia start feeling self-conscious.

“I’ll go first. Where should I start? I’m twenty-five. I live by myself and own my own business. Nothing interesting, don’t worry. I was raised by hippies and grew up thinking everyone smelled like patchouli. I went to college and majored in Art, which meant I ended up doing something else with my life. Art is more of a hobby. Hmmm…what else? I’m single…though my boyfriend doesn’t know yet. Oh…and I have a dog, Sam. You will meet Sam. She’s a sweetheart.”

Rory went on without taking a breath, the light in her blue eyes seemingly growing brighter with each word. With relative ease she fit her life into a few sentences, without a moment’s hesitation she spilled it all to complete stranger without a hint of reluctance.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

One of the curses of being a redhead was the fact that one could not hide a blush. In fact Amelia was positive that her face was as red as a tomato at the moment, Rory's "too cute" comment running through her head at warp speed. Cute had never been used to describe Amelia - whether it be her appearance or her actions. Compliments, teasing or otherwise, were not something she ever heard. As a little girl, sure, the compliments were freely given by her mother, so long as Reverend Harway was out of earshot. He would have said compliments or flattery of any kind made a person vain. And vanity was something that he would not abide by. But Amelia's mother made sure that her little girl knew she was loved and valued. Many years had passed since Amelia's mother died and the young woman had long forgotten what she looked or sounded like. But those kind words remained one of her few and precious memories of her mother. No matter what the good reverend did to tear Amelia down all she had to do was close her eyes and remember the words her mother used to whisper in her ear as she tucked little Amelia in at night. Words of love and encouragement that continued to warm Amelia's heart.

There was something about Rory's easy and honest expression and the way that she spilled her entire life story out onto the table. Slowly, Amelia felt her spine relax, the tension leave her shoulders. She slouched slightly in the booth, her posture mimicking that of the vibrant woman across from her. How could a complete stranger put her so at ease? Amelia didn't understand it, but there was something so magnetic about Rory that she just couldn't help but be drawn in.

"I've never had a pet before. My father would never allow it. He always said that we should be content with God's love and not seek mindless affection from animals or people." Amelia's eyes widened in surprise. She had not meant to say so much. But the words had fallen from her lips without thinking and now they were out there.

Might as well spill the rest of it, Amelia thought as she surveyed Rory thoughtfully. It's only fair since she told me her story without hesitation.

Still, it was easier said than done to tell a stranger, even one as magnanimous as Rory, about the life that Amelia kept so carefully concealed.

With a deep breath, Amelia gathered her thoughts, figuring what she wanted to reveal to Rory that wouldn't shock the woman - whom Amelia was beginning to believe could very well turn into her first real friend - too much.

"Well...um...I guess there's not much to say about myself really. I'm twenty and my life so far has been pretty sheltered I guess you'd say. My mom died when I was ten. My father has kept a tight hold on my life ever since I was born. I still live at home, my father won't let me move out 'cause he thinks I'll 'go astray and turn to worldly ways.'" Amelia made air quotes in the air as she recited her father's favorite saying. Only once did she try to convince him to allow her to live in the dorms at school, but he hadn't let her live it down. Every day he warned her against the evils of the world and told her she would turn into a harlot like her mother if she didn't carefully guard herself.

"I convinced him to let me take classes at Fulton, though." Amelia continued, gaining steam as she thought of what her little act of rebellion would do to her father. He would probably lock her in her room for life if he ever found out. Or worse, and most likely, he would beat her until she could barely move. "I'm not sure what I want to major in yet. Though I'm leaning towards social work."

In truth, the thought of majoring in social work hadn't crossed her mind until that moment. But why shouldn't she? If she could just escape her father there was so much she could do to help others who lived in similar situations. A smile brightened her face as she considered the possibilities of this new career path, the hope that she could bring to children who suffered the same fate.

"So...I guess that's me." She shrugged. Pushing up her shirt sleeves, Amelia reached for her coffee, which she hoped had cooled by this point, unaware that the bruise around her wrist was showing.

 

[KattDclaw]

“Mindless?” Rory blurted out before the word even fully processed in her mind. Her fork twitched in her grasp, dripping syrup all over the table in the process. Her lips moved in a similar fashion, a ripple over her mouth before they twisted into a playful little smirk.

“Hell. Sam has more common sense than me sometimes. Trust me…when you meet her you will see there is a devious mind behind those big brown eyes. I swear sometimes she is plotting against me. I haven’t found her secret lair yet…though I keep losing socks. I’m not sure what those two things have to do with each other.” Rory got lost in mid-thought, the confusion drifting over her face as she blinked and tried to figure out just where she had been going. It didn’t matter much though, as Amelia seemed to find the courage to offer up her own story. Rory was quick to forget it all, after all, finding out just what Amelia was all about was far more interesting than a few missing socks. Those bright eyes locked intently upon the demure girl as she related a very unfamiliar tale. Rory’s fork continued to move the entire time, shoveling her meal into her gaping maw with more force than before. It was similar to the way one would stuff their face with popcorn while watching a scene in a movie unfold. It had the similar bits as well, a young woman with a sheltered past, a yearning to break free and find her wings, her identity, inner goddess, or whatever off the wall thing one wanted to call it. Yet the awe that Rory started to feel quickly crumbled and for the first time in a long while she felt a pang of guilt, as well as a undeniable tug on her heartstrings.

It took everything Rory had not to interrupt Amelia when she stated her Mother had passed. It was an outcome Rory wasn’t expecting or could even fathom. Her Mother was still alive in all her free-loving glory. She was an inspiration, a friend and confidant, a shoulder to cry on and so much more. Rory couldn’t help but try wrapping her head around what it would be like not to have her there, to have lost her at such a tender age too. Rory couldn’t help but wear her emotions on her face, uncontrollably her lips curled into a sad little frown. She wanted to reach out and take Amelia in her arms, touch that flaming mane and tell her everything would be alright. The idea of even bringing the young girl over to her parent’s house crossed her mind, though it was quickly discarded. If Rory made Amelia want to run at first glance she couldn’t even imagine her reaction to two former hippies. Baby steps, Rory, baby steps. As much as Rory wanted to know more about Amelia’s Mother and the circumstances of her unfortunate death, even she knew better than to bring up something like that. It hit too close to home, still the sense of guilt and pain lingered in her chest. Baby steps.

Instead Rory focused on the rest of Amelia’s story, there was no denying the way she picked up as she continued on about college and even what she would like major in. Rory fed off Amelia’s energies, that bright smile caused one to crest her lips as well, slender brows raised slightly and she gave a firm nod.

“Social work, eh? That sounds awfully deep. I dunno if I could be that serious for so long,” Rory’s smile widened in a grin and she gave a odd wiggle of her eyesbrows. “Though I’m sure you’d be up to the challenge. It could be rewarding work. That’s what it’s about at the end of the day? Doing something useful and meaningful.”

Rory started though she quickly died down, mostly from the realization she was going to start sounding like another self-help coach if she kept it up. Yet it was more, the undeniable blemish on Amelia’s pale flesh caught Rory’s attention. That frown returned her strong jaw tensing as she let her already racing mind go to the worst possible conclusion. It wasn’t her business; she couldn’t just point it out and start in on the young girl. Or could she? Could she really just sit by idle if the creepy old man was beating on his girl? Then again, Rory didn’t have any proof it was from such. For all she knew Amelia was a klutz and got it from trying to walk and chew bubbglegum at the same time. Still, the conflict was all too evident upon Rory’s expressive visage. She tried to make light of it, deflect even, though that only made it all the more obvious.

“So!” Rory finally burst out, her voice higher than she had originally intended. “Now that we’ve gotten to know each other a little bit better. You think yer still up for this?” Rory asked earnestly, even as she tried to keep her eyes focused on Amelia’s face. Not her wrist, definitely not her wrist. Her fingers twitched and her nails rapped against the tabletop, right into the syrup she had spilled early. The stickiness smeared itself across the table further and over Rory’s fingers.

“Shit!” She hissed, raising her hand to her lips before she flicked the tip of her tongue out across her fingertip and proceeded to clean off the syrup. “I’m such damn slob sometimes. Did I get any on myself?” Rory couldn’t help check herself out, fully expecting her shirt to be drenched in syrup and bacon grease.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Amelia sensed the shift in Rory's mood immediately and couldn't help wondering why the woman stared so intently at her. Rory's gaze was fixed on her in a way that unnerved Amelia and she fidgeted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. Her gaze moved to the table top and caught on the bruise that poke out from beneath her sleeve. Quickly, Amelia pulled her arm off the table and wrapped her arms around her waist, hoping to keep any more bruises from making their appearance known.

Thankfully, Rory didn't notice - or at least she hoped she didn't - Amelia's sudden movement as the magenta haired artist was too consumed with the syrup sticking to her fingers.

"Did I get any on myself?" Amelia couldn't help but chuckle, the tension around the pair evaporating, as Rory plucked at her shirt in search of more syrup.

"I don't think so." Amelia replied with an easy grin as she surveyed Rory's shirt. "Oh wait, you've got some right there." She pointed to a small stain on Rory's chest. "Here let me." Dipping her napkin in her glass of water, Amelia reached over and rubbed the stain. Her knuckles brushed against Rory's breast and heat shot up Amelia's arm. She flushed, embarrassed, and quickly sat back down, handing the napkin to Rory.

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to...I mean I was just trying to..." Amelia's face felt hot as the sun and she was sure that she was as red as the ketchup on the table. "I'm just going to shut up now." She said, placing her head in her hands in an attempt to hide the deep flush on her cheeks.

Her knuckles still burned from the contact with Rory's breast and Amelia did not want to even think about what that could mean. She definitely did not want to think about the way her stomach had twisted or the jolts of electricity that had shot through her body and now rested, quite pleasurably, between her thighs. And there was no way that Amelia wanted to think about how nice Rory's breast had felt.

In twenty years Amelia had never thought about her sexuality. She'd never so much as had a crush on anyone. Sure Amelia always assumed that she'd get married one day, her father would probably arrange something and Amelia would be stuck in a loveless marriage that mirrored that of her parents. So it had never crossed Amelia's mind that she could be attracted to women. Sure she believed other women to be beautiful, but a crush on one? That was out of the question. There was no denying, though, that the woman seated across from her was stunning in her own unique way. But Amelia couldn't afford to think that way. She was already on thin ice with the Reverend. If he were to find out that she might be attracted to women - at least attracted to one woman - he would strangle her.

"So..." Amelia forced the incident to the back of her mind, "what's next?"

 

[KattDclaw]

“What? Where? This is one of my favorite shirts!” Rory all but whined the words as Amelia confirmed she had indeed made a mess of herself. She still couldn’t see it, that was until Amelia pointed it out. Just as Rory’s gaze settled on the little blot of syrup Amelia was already in action, wetting a napkin and bringing it to her shirt. Rory’s hands lingered in the air at her sides helplessly, there was nothing she could do herself but get in the way.

“Aaah dammit,” Rory interjected needlessly, the annoyance in her tone all too clear. She was certainly annoyed at herself, though there was something in that tone that indicated it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last. There wasn’t much time to linger upon it though, Rory looked up just in time to see Amelia’s pale flesh change to a brilliant fire engine red. It was comical, the look on her face simply priceless. Rory’s lips twitched subtly, resisting the urge to let them split into a wide grin. The teasing words were already on the tip of her tongue, no doubt she could make the timid girl fidget more in her seat with a through teasing. The thought that Amelia even found anything about Rory attractive had yet to cross her mind, Rory had simply focused on the idea of touching another human being was flustering enough.

“Hey, don’t freak out. I got nice bewbs,” Rory said matter-of-factly, drawing out the silliness in the word ‘bewbs’. She could have done so much more, teased the girl until it got to the line of true inappropriateness. That was Rory’s way, she did so love a good joke even at another’s expense, hell, she loved a good joke at her own expense! But teasing Amelia further just seemed wrong at this point, it was enough that Amelia had sat back down and started to open up, even if it was just a little bit. Rory didn’t want the groundhog to scurry back into its hole just yet. She truly wanted to see Amelia open up and blossom fully, Rory could feel the raw potential ebbing and flowing from the petite redhead across the table. She had a feeling they could do such incredible things together, but that required cracking that shell she had erected about herself. Rory’s normal approach of a sledgehammer would simply not do, she’d have to chisel away it bit by bit, she would need patience.

Rory dabbed at her chest with the wet napkin till she got most of the syrup off, her lips holding a little hint of a smile as Amelia hid her face behind her hands in a vain attempt to disguise the flush on her cheeks. Causally she tossed the napkin aside and shifted on the booth, the creaking loud and awkward as she scooted a foot closer to Amelia.

“Next?” She answered Amelia’s question with a question. Her head tilted to the right lightly, a magenta lock falling out across her brow and tickled at her nose. She gave a inquisitive, thoughtful look, which increased the tilt of her head by several degrees. Her lips pursed and Rory gave the idea several moments of thought before she snapped back to reality with a fully body jolt.

“I could show you my pad and my work place. Give you an idea of where we’ll work and shit. Or we could schedule it for another time, whatever is cool with you,” Rory said the words with a comforting ease that the shrug of her proud shoulders accentuated even more. She kept moving though, drawing up to Amelia’s side with another groan of cushion under her rump. She reached out and delicately placed her hand upon Amelia’s own, offering a ginger squeeze as Rory leaned in to get a good look of Amelia’s eyes.

“And whatever you do…you don’t have to be scared or embarrassed to touch me. Ever. Okay?” Rory said with a seriousness that seemed almost unnatural for the easy going woman. She was still very convinced Amelia was now deftly afraid of touching others, perhaps it was something her father had instilled in her for reasons Rory couldn’t truly fathom. But she had a need to shatter this little taboo, a small stroke of the chisel on that shell.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

Amelia should have been dismayed at the slightly crude manner Rory had, but the redhead could sense that Rory was simply trying to make her feel at ease with the situation - which was only a situation in Amelia's poor, naïve mind. To Rory, undoubtedly, it was just another day and no cause for a visceral mental chastisement like Amelia was doing to herself.

The young woman could feel her body tighten, instinctively, as Rory placed her hand on Amelia's, their bodies closer than the sheltered girl was used to. Rory did not press the issue, though, and for that Amelia was grateful. She did not know how much change she could take in one day. With her life so carefully regulated, Amelia was afraid that stepping too far outside of her box at once would only serve to send her running back for the illusion of safety that box provided.

"I'd like to see your place." She said hesitantly, raising her eyes to meet Rory's earnest gaze. "It'd be nice to get familiar with it before I'm stripping my clothes off." Her lips quirked up slightly at her attempt of a joke. "My classes are over for the day, so we can go there now...if you want I mean." Slowly, Amelia turned her hand over so that their palms pressed against each other, Rory's skin warm against her own. It wasn't much, but the subtle shift of contact was enough. Enough to reassure herself that she shouldn't be afraid. Enough to, slowly, start dismantling the walls that had been built around her.

 

[KattDclaw]

Rory felt a curious little tingle in her stomach as their gaze met. This had been the closest they had gotten; the feel of Amelia’s soft skin under her fingertips had a certain alluring feel to it. Rory was a free spirit; she had known the touch of both men and women. She had never really settled down on just which side of the fence she preferred; it was more about a particular individual than their genitalia. Right now, Amelia was far more appealing than anything else in her life. Rory had a feeling she saw something in those beautiful eyes, a recognition of an unspoken attraction. Perhaps it was to Rory, or just the situation, the chance to be free and express herself as never before. Either way, it was just what Rory wanted, to help break the girl out of her shell and see just what the true Amelia looked like.

A smile drifted out over her wide lips as Amelia turned her hand and let their palms press against one another. Silk met satin, the warm undeniable as their skin brushed against one another subtly from the movement. Rory couldn’t help the giggle that came from her throat at the joke, only encouraging the girl further with the endearing looking of enjoyment on her features.

“Well then. Let’s get the hell out of this shithole!” Rory boomed, her fingers curling and offering a gentle friction as they moved over Amelia’s palm. She moved, albeit far from graceful, around the booth until she stood with a bounce in her step. Rory fished for her wallet, removed a few bills to cover the meal and tossed them on the counter without even looking twice.

“You’ll love it. I got a good vibe going on in my study. I Feng Shui’ed the shit out of it! Oh, and Sam will absolutely love you!” Rory rushed them towards the door without bothering to explain herself.

The trek was short but lively. Rory was animated and all talk, pointing out interesting buildings and laughing at some of the more ridiculous hipsters. They passed a few faces familiar to Rory, who always made sure to introduce Amelia with a bright smile. No one questioned them too deeply, Rory didn’t say more than they were working on a potential art project.

They made the journey from the greasy spoon to her town house in a short thirty minute walk. The nearby park offered a great ambiance to the quaint looking two-story town house. From the outside it looked just like the others on either side; a crystal wind-chime clinked from the small porch and blackout curtains hide the inside from view. Rory was still babbling as she fished for her keys, the jingling of the numerous keys and baubles almost drowning out her voice. Another voice joined in as soon as the door cracked open, a resounding bark of great fierceness came from deep within the house. Rory pursed her lips and fiddled with her keys as she drew them from the lock.

“Her bark is way bigger than her bite,” Rory added with a roll of her eyes. She took a step inside and gestured for Amelia to follow, just as another bark echoed off the walls and the skittering of claws and paws followed. They emerged into a small, cluttered hallway lined with various pictures and photos of varying scenes and individuals. Some were on the floor, propped against the wall and more than a few weren’t finished. A kitchen branched off to the left, while the hallway ended in a large living room with a flight of stairs arching about from left to right. They were greeted here by Sam, the Swedish Vallhund and Rory’s companion. Her curly tail was already wagging by the time Rory and Amelia emerged. She gave another bark, this time not as fierce and bounded towards them on stubby legs. She bypassed Rory, who had her hand out to pet the squat dog, and went straight for Amelia. Quizzical dark eyes peered up at Amelia and nostrils flared as she sniffed the new scents eagerly. Rory stood with her hands on her hips and watched Sam and Amelia’s interaction with a lopsided smirk.

“Be careful. Once you pet her she won’t leave you alone. Sam’s an attention whore,” Rory teased from her vantage point.

 

[SweetAsSuga]

As they made their way down the street, Amelia felt like her head was spinning. Not only was Rory talking a mile a minute, but she was talking about things that Amelia barely understood. What the heck was Feng Shui? Honestly, Amelia didn't care. She was simply enjoying the normalcy of the situation...if Rory could be called normal. It wasn't every day that she could simply walk down the street like every other woman her age, talking and laughing like she didn't have a care in the world. It was...nice. It felt safe and happy.

The walk was short, barely enough time for the young woman to feel the effects of the exercises in her legs. And soon Rory was leading the way into a cute town house situated across the street from a park. A vast difference from Amelia's own ranch house with its overgrown hedges - because the good reverend was simply too busy to be bothered with yard work - and view of a barren field that had become littered with the remnants of clandestine parties and hook ups. The Reverend insisted on living in the part of town where he could must easily reach the "wayward and fallen" of the world. The fact that their house had bars on its windows didn't phase the man, he viewed them as a way to keep the riff-raff out and his daughter locked inside.

A frantic bark and the harried tapping of nails scurrying across the floor sounded from behind the door as Rory unlocked it. The barking intensified as the two women walked inside.

"Her bark is way bigger than her bite," Rory reassured her. Amelia couldn't help but chuckle as the other woman rolled her eyes. Amelia barely had time to take in the beautiful house before a tiny, furry body launched itself at her. Little paws scratched at her legs as the ball of fur tried to jump on her, its nose twitching wildly as it sniffed at Amelia, wondering who this intruder was.

“Be careful. Once you pet her she won’t leave you alone. Sam’s an attention whore,” Rory warned as Amelia knelt down and scratched behind Sam's ears.

"I don't mind." Amelia laughed as Sam began to lick her face in earnest. Giggling like a school girl, Amelia fell back on her butt, knocked over by Sam's eagerness. The dog wasted no time in climbing into Amelia's lap and placing her paws on the young woman's chest, her furry little head cocked to the side as she gazed, curiously, up at the woman who was invading her home. With a happy grin, Amelia scratched behind the dog's ears, causing her tail to wag as she yipped excitedly at the young woman.

"You're not so tough, are you?" Amelia said to the dog, her voice taking on that childish tone that many people get when talking with babies or adorable animals. "You're just a cute, cuddly teddy bear. Yes you are." Amelia kissed Sam's nose, laughing as the dog tried to return the kisses.

Glancing up at Rory, Amelia blushed at the way the other woman watched her - her head cocked in a near mirror of her dog's earlier action.

"So, um, I'd love to see the rest of the house." Amelia muttered as she tried to stand. Sam was having none of it, though, and refused to leave Amelia's lap. Picking the dog up, the young woman tried to set her to the side, but Sam quickly climbed back on her lap and barked, impatiently, as if asking why the silly human had stopped scratching her ears.

"I guess you were right. She is an attention whore." Amelia chuckled, her blush growing ever deeper under Rory's scrutinizing gaze.

 

[KattDclaw]

Rory watched, with no surprise, Sam bowl Amelia over in her excitement. The dog just loved people, especially new ones with interesting scents. Amelia easily fell under Sam's spell, using the voice everyone used when talking to animals. It was amusing to say the least, Rory couldn't help but just stand there and watch the scene unfold. Sam was the ever present attention whore, sniffing and licking any and everything within reach. She was squat enough to fit in her lap, though heavy enough to not be considered a lap dog. Still, Sam was good for a cuddle, she was accustomed to a lifestyle of close contact with her owner and strangers. No doubt if left to her own devices Sam would have hogged all the attention for hours and hours, she was a sweet dog but a little thick headed.

“C'mon Sam,” Rory finally spoke up, though it was much too gentle to catch Sam's attention. Her smile lingered intently upon her lips regardless, Rory couldn't help but enjoy the moment for what it was. It was one of those silly times that you didn't really notice until it passed. This was especially true with Amelia, meeting a friendly dog was just a normal encounter, it was a normal reaction to want to give the dog some love. But compared to the girl she had met only a few hours ago, Amelia seemed a whole other person. The smiles and laughter seemed all too natural though, Rory noted with a curious tingle in her stomach. She shook her head and joined in with a little huff of laughter before she took a step forward and leaned down to scoop Sam off Amelia's lap.

“That's enough yah fluffy bastard! Amelia isn't here to see you...now get!” Rory was stern in tone, though not especially harsh. It was the kind of tone one used with a dog, besides the childish muttering. Rory tugged on the dog's collar to urge her off Amelia and gave her hindquarters a playful swat. Sam reluctantly followed through, though stood just far enough away to be out of Rory's reach. Her ears were perked and tongue already dangle from her muzzle as she panted happily. Rory gestured to Amelia, drawing her further into her abode, Sam on their heels the entire time.

She gave the general tour of the place, not that Rory was a very good tour guide. Her living room was in shambles, the empty bottle of vodka and upturned pizza box still nearby. Rory lead with a hand, sweeping broadly across the room and the stairs that lead up and around. She indicated that was were the bedrooms were, nothing of particular interest at the moment. Instead Rory took a turn to the right and lead Amelia down a small hallway. They passed two closed doors before the hallway terminated at another simple wooden door. A crooked sign with a radioactive symbol hung from a nail, the burnished knob and surrounding wood was smeared in a multitude of paint, some of which looked surprisingly like bloody hand prints.

“And this is where the magic happens. It's a little messy at the moment...see a running theme yet?” Rory commented as she shoved the door open and took a step over the threshold. The scent of paint was prominent in the small but brightly lit room. It had several windows with thick blinds, all of which were presently drawn back to allow the natural light to flood in. More canvas and paintings stood about in varying stages of completion. The walls had once been white, but were now covered in flecks of mulch-colored paint, along with a few murals ranging from a fluffy, smiling cloud to a comical phallus with a similar smiling face and a pair of white angel wings. The most conspicuous thing of all was the easel and mostly blank canvas in the middle of the room. Mostly blank except for the words “You sux” painted in black across the surface. Rory tried to pay it no mind, though it was hard to keep the annoyed look from appearing when she glanced in its direction.

“So here we are. Not too creepy I hope...except maybe for the flying dong...” Rory gave a half-hearted laugh and a roll of her shoulders. Her hands slid into her back pockets as she turned to regard Amelia once more. She cocked her head to the right a degree before blurting out further without much thought.

“So whadda think?”

 

[SweetAsSuga]

"It's...interesting. Very...eclectic." Amelia said, taking in the studio with wide eyes and trying not to blush at the penis painted on the wall. With her pale complexion and red hair it was not an easy feat. She quickly moved her gaze from the piece of male anatomy before her face was a bright red beacon.

The various canvases lining the room called to Amelia and she made her way towards them, studying each one intently. Bright sunlight flooded the room, bringing the colors to life. Mesmerized, Amelia paused in front of one painting, this one covered in bright colors, the paint splattered across the canvas haphazardly, as if flung off the brush absentmindedly. On closer inspection, the redhead could see words and shapes underneath the paint, but she couldn't quite make out what they were. She moved closer, her head tilting to the side as she studied the painting. Her braid hanging over her shoulder and tickling her cheek. Annoyed, she threw the braid over her shoulder, feeling it slap between her shoulder blades.

The weight of the braid tugged at her, just another link in the chain that kept her shackled to her father and his tyranny. Rebellion flared in her breast and Amelia wanted nothing more than to grab a pair of scissors and remove that braid once and for all.

Beside her, Sam sat on her furry haunches, gazing up at Amelia as if she could sense what was going on inside the young woman's head. Her tail thumped on the hardwood floor and Amelia reached down, absentmindedly, to scratch behind Sam's ears. The dog yipped in appreciation and Amelia smiled at her. If only she could be as carefree as the little dog. Or her owner for that matter. But, having lived her entire life within a cage, Amelia didn't know what she would do, even what she would want to do, if she had no one dictating her life.

Squaring her shoulders, Amelia drew in a deep breath and turned towards Rory. It was now or never. Amelia could finally take hold of her life or she could allow her father to continue to keep her prisoner.

"So...when do you want to start?"