OPEN POST; [ HERLOCK SHOLMES / TGAA ]

[retroductions]

(( hold you in my dreams ))

Comments

[velluminous]

[ his house and his home—it still feels surreal that he would share in it. ]

If you insist to.

[retroductions]

[Oh, but he has shared this flat with those he considered family before. If he is not to do the same with the woman he loves, then what sort of cad would he be?

Selfishly, he’d not be opposed if she stayed here forever, or something very close to it.]

Well, I hope you did not think I was merely exaggerating when I said you may stay however long you like.

[velluminous]

[ this is too vulnerable!! gives his bum a little cupped-palm smack, not even painful. ]

You are grandiose man. Prone to such manner.

[retroductions]

I may enjoy putting on a show now and again, but a liar, I am not.

[(lying)(but not about his desire for her to stay with him perpetually)(but he has been known to lie about other things)

Sholmes steps back.]

Still, as I said, think on it when you’ve the time. For now… are we all cleaned up, dressed, and prepared for Iris’ arrival?

[velluminous]

I can no longer delay inevitable. I must be ready.

[ as she rakes unsteady fingers through her hair to tidy it ]

[retroductions]

In which case, back out we go. Any minute now...

[Iris will return! But, ah, Sholmes takes a moment to straighten up his clothes, smoothing them here and fussing with a garment there, before taking another long drag of his pipe and crosses over to the door, holding it open for her. Gesturing his free hand at it.]

She will offer to make you tea. You may as well sit and consider what sort you'd like in the interim.

[velluminous]

[ might, to anyone else, say "shouldn't it be you making us tea?", but this is. Sholmes. so instead, she merely arches her brow and brushes past him, back into the cramped and gloriously busy main room. her luggage, she presumes, will be laying open where he fumbled through it for his gift—the hat of disguise.

as she perches on the chaise, her tail wraps around her ankle...

she hasn't yet remembered to put back on her own disguise. ]

My heart is going so fast.

[retroductions]

[Girl, do you really want Herlock Sholmes to make you tea. You don’t know what he’d put in it. This is a man who put soap in a cake back in Reverie.

She’s right about the luggage, of course. Though it adds no extra upheaval in term of messiness, given the entire state of the flat.

Sholmes crosses over to the chaise, humming with vague amusement.]

So much that you’ve forgotten something? Or is it while in your natural state-

[He leans against the back of the chaise lounge, bending forward so that he’s over her shoulder.]

-how you plan to greet her? Either way, the decision is yours; I’ve already described you to Iris in excruciating detail at least thrice before! Haha!

[is he Helping]

/2

[velluminous]

[ ah... when he bends over her from behind like that... it sends a prickle down her spine. the presence behind her, the slight movement in her peripheral without know precisely the look on his face, yet knowing him well enough to guess.

she looks down at her hands, fidgeting on her lap. ]

Excruciating? Do not talk so much exaggeration—

[ her... blue... hands... ]

[velluminous]

[ SPRINGS UP ]

I forgot my ring!

[ TO THE BEDROOM ]

[retroductions]

Aha, my dear, she knows that you are—

[A tiefling.

Oops, she’s gone.]

[spelljam]

[ ...

STORMS BACK OUT ]

You tell her? Why would you do that?

[retroductions]

[Whoops.]

The true question is: why would I not! You are family now — and one should never hide the true nature of family.

[spelljam]

[ very, very slowly: ] You told this girl, who lives in world where no such things exist but in horrible fantasy, that I am devil woman, having horns and tail and skin like I have frozen to death.

1/2

[retroductions]

Yes!

[retroductions]

[Er. Wait. No…]

Er, that is, not precisely in the way you frame it, in such unflattering terms. I have described you as you are: beautiful, in possession of elegant horns and a sinuous tail, with deep, dark eyes, and complexion a perfect shade of cornflower blue.

Would you rather I lied?

[spelljam]

[ beautiful, elegant, sinuous, perfect—all good words that she demands to have ascribed to her. such a loving description should come as a pleasant shock, and indeed, Sprezzatura feels her stomach swoop and her cheeks warm. ]

I don't know!

[ hot, embarrassed, throwing her hands up. then she hugs herself, for lack of that tail to comfort herself with. for a man like Herlock, who became a beautiful man living among naught else but other men and women, does it even cross his mind?

that she had been all but handed the opportunity to glimpse life as a woman like anyone else—her one chance to establish a control. to know what it might be like to be human among humans. would it be any different? would they find something else in her to shame?

after all: she has never disliked being tiefling. she chose pride over her heritage to spite generations of prejudice. no, she would not hate her blood. no, she would not tame her appearance or predilections for the comfort of those who curse her on sight alone.

but it is different to be tiefling in a world where that is a contentious thing than it is to be tiefling in a world where nothing other than humans are known to exist.

that is so lonely she cannot even begin to describe it. ]

[retroductions]

[It would be strange, indeed, not to tell Iris all that happened to him in Reverie, every single fantastical thing that was both a joy and a trial. Even more so those who became close to him, and Sprezzatura especially, whom he came to love. They were worth even more description than the rest.

Indeed, that’s the only logical conclusion, no matter what kind of world one might hail from. Surely Sprezzatura realizes this — which only means that her issue lies somewhere else, somewhere unspoken.]

Perhaps… I was too hasty in assuming you’d give up the illusion of your disguise so readily, even with someone who would not balk at your natural form?

[Iris, after all, will love her on account of Sholmes doing the same. And then, soon after, love her of her own accord; of that, he’s certain.]

[spelljam]

[ but why, Sholmes, would that occur to her? there is no living soul on all of Toril that she would tell. what happened in Reverie is a secret unto her grave, that it comes so naturally to believe, without a second's pause for doubt, that for anyone else, surely it is much the same. secret. private. unconfessable.

she can't sit now; the nervous energy is back to stay. the kind that sees her pacing the room in small back and forth motions. ]

Everyone balks at least once, Herlock. Have you forgotten? Even you. Before she is even meeting me, she knows we are not alike.

[retroductions]

[Ah, her anxiety flares anew. Or stronger, anyway.]

Steady on now, Sprezzatura.

[He sets his pipe down, letting its smoke lazily eke upwards, on the mantle. Then he moves to stand in her pacing path to reach out an offered, steadying hand.]

Of course she knows we are not alike in appearances, but what does that matter? Yes, she may stare for a moment or two, but only in fascination and admiration. But if it is rejection you so dearly fear, there will be none of it in this flat. I would bet my entire career as a great detective on it!

[spelljam]

[ a steadying hand, which she grasps in both of hers and presses to her forehead. deep breath in, deep breath out. ]

Rejection? Bah.

[ otherness. ]

[retroductions]

[It’s true, there are no tieflings in London, and there is little to be done about that. But otherness takes many forms, and to think that it does not reach 221B—with its great (weird) detective and his prodigious (weird) foster daughter residing within—is naive. They are hardly normal insofar as society views them; she fits right in. For what comfort that’ll be in the days to come.

Turns his wrist so he can grip one of her hands, drawing it near to kiss her knuckles.]

Hmm. Then what? There is little more tightly-knit than those who can claim be a part of the Sholmes family.

[halfway across London, Mycroft sneezing probably]

[spelljam]

[ ah, the kiss. he is trying so very hard, putting on such a serious face for her. the seconds until the moment of truth tick away—she takes and lets out a deep and hard breath. ]

It is very naked. To be seen exactly as you are. This is all.

[retroductions]

A privilege afforded to only a few, I’m certain. Take comfort in the fact that both of us will appreciate it for all it’s worth.

[Ultimately, maybe that’s the only comfort he can afford her. Sholmes squeezes her hand, then turns to face the door.]

But the only way to surmount a fear is to gave it head-on! Steel yourself, my dear. Do you hear those footsteps heading up the stairs? Iris approaches!

[velluminous]

[ even in disguise, it's this kind of a reaction. she tenses from head to toe, clenching Sholmes' hand in hers.

low and urgent, ] Give me your pipe. Give me your pipe.