Kevin Regnard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fallingbackup) wrote2013-08-01 08:52 pm
fallingbackup) wrote2013-08-01 08:52 pm
Entry tags:
Puppy kisses
Kevin Regnard has been a werewolf long enough to recognize the symptoms when the proper phase of the moon approaches. First, he gets restless; he wants to be active, he wants to run around and engage with things. Then he starts wanting to eat nothing but meat, to the extent that he even loses interest in pancakes, which would make him dreadfully sad at breakfast time if it weren't for maple-glazed ham. He wants attention from his favorite people and his not-so-favorite people, and the playful part of his personality comes out in full force. He even harasses the Lacies, when it gets to be close to werewolf time.
He's also noticed, much to his chagrin, that he craves being in close physical contact with people. This, he hasn't really given into yet, but the urge to drape himself over people is obnoxiously strong for a couple days, there.
Just now, he hasn't gotten unbearably cuddly quite yet, but he is feeling very fidgety indeed, and so he's been occupying himself with extra sword practice today to try and burn the energy off. That's where the closet pulls him from. Fortunately, the closet is big enough that the unsheathed sword that's still in his hand probably isn't about to skewer anybody. His hair's in a messy bun that's half falling down, his sleeves are up, and the collar of his shirt is open; there's the faintest sheen of sweat at his temples and over his throat, where the black leather collar that Glen gave him to wear as a wolf rests, because Kevin's life is stupid enough that he would somehow wind up with a collar that changes size with him, wouldn't he. He's a touch flushed from the exercise, too, red eyes bright with life.
"...oh," says Kevin, after a moment. The light in the closet is dim, but it's enough for him to see exactly where he's just been transported -- and for whoever's in here with him to see just what an attractive piece of tail the man is, though the werewolf is blissfully oblivious of this. Really, he's more preoccupied with the state of his own mind at the moment. He's been in kissing closets before and hated every moment of it. Now, he finds himself looking around almost eagerly to see who the closet has decided to fling at him today. If he had his wolf ears on his head at the moment, they'd be pricking forward curiously. Maybe it'll be someone he likes. This time, he thinks, that might not be so awful at all, and it surprises him to find that he feels this way...
He's also noticed, much to his chagrin, that he craves being in close physical contact with people. This, he hasn't really given into yet, but the urge to drape himself over people is obnoxiously strong for a couple days, there.
Just now, he hasn't gotten unbearably cuddly quite yet, but he is feeling very fidgety indeed, and so he's been occupying himself with extra sword practice today to try and burn the energy off. That's where the closet pulls him from. Fortunately, the closet is big enough that the unsheathed sword that's still in his hand probably isn't about to skewer anybody. His hair's in a messy bun that's half falling down, his sleeves are up, and the collar of his shirt is open; there's the faintest sheen of sweat at his temples and over his throat, where the black leather collar that Glen gave him to wear as a wolf rests, because Kevin's life is stupid enough that he would somehow wind up with a collar that changes size with him, wouldn't he. He's a touch flushed from the exercise, too, red eyes bright with life.
"...oh," says Kevin, after a moment. The light in the closet is dim, but it's enough for him to see exactly where he's just been transported -- and for whoever's in here with him to see just what an attractive piece of tail the man is, though the werewolf is blissfully oblivious of this. Really, he's more preoccupied with the state of his own mind at the moment. He's been in kissing closets before and hated every moment of it. Now, he finds himself looking around almost eagerly to see who the closet has decided to fling at him today. If he had his wolf ears on his head at the moment, they'd be pricking forward curiously. Maybe it'll be someone he likes. This time, he thinks, that might not be so awful at all, and it surprises him to find that he feels this way...
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With the grace of a slow-burning candle flame, she turns toward him with wide eyes.
"Kevin Regnard..." she says, hesitantly, by way of greeting.
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The knight relaxes. He doesn't quite know what to make of Eques, but she's never given him any cause to be nervous around her, and she's attached to one of the few people in this world that he trusts completely. Being in a closet with her is awkward, and will probably be just as awkward as the mistletoe last year. But at least she's not somebody who will eat him, or steal his virtue, or laugh at him.
(When you have as much pride as Kevin does, all of these things are equally bad.)
"...you glow in the dark," he observes, tilting his head at her. This is the first time he's actually interacted with her since becoming a wolf, and the way he's able to notice her has changed. He's curious.
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He may also notice, now that he's predisposed to, that she gives off a faint, sweet scent, the way good, beeswax candles will, when they burn.
"It is a part of what I am," she says softly, not knowing what else to say.
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He's focused on the conversation well enough, but he's already shifting a little, restless now that he's more or less confined to one spot; even without wolf time, his sword practice was interrupted and he's high on adrenaline. In this state, if someone were to throw a ball, he'd probably start to go after it before he managed to catch himself. More aware of it now than he used to be, the knight turns away long enough to lean his sword against the wall, just so he won't have his hands on it.
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She watches him shift and set the sword aside, her gaze forthright and quietly frank. It would be staring, if it were anyone else. Picking up on his restlessness, she realizes that they're both trapped, and that something similar has happened between them, before... There's the blush, her luminescence turning a faintly golden shade of rose. Long slender hands clap one another.
"We are trapped, here, Kevin Regnard," she informs him hesitantly.
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"It's, ah. It's a kissing closet," he says. He sounds apologetic. "It's a lot like the, um, the mistletoe, just...not so seasonal. I suppose."
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However, what he does say only confirms what she'd expected, and her hands clasp a little harder.
"Then..." She steps closer, luminous gaze searching his out. "We must kiss."
Apparently, this particular Chain states the obvious, when she's flustered.
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He does not notice that she's pointing out obvious things; that is, at times a trait they share. It's also not like his own statement wasn't just as useless. Of course they want to get out; he has to eat eventually, if they actually stayed in here long enough for him to become a wolf, that would probably be bad, and if they survived that it would be awkward after because naked is a thing that happens. Still, theoretically it would be possible to just stay in the kissing closet for a while, even though Kevin's general reaction to these things anymore is to get it over with and flee.
The knight nibbles at the edge of one of his fingernails.