mofi | duplicity

She looks down at her worn dress, neatly mended. There were nicer things for her to wear, sure. The dominant she was contracted to certainly had a taste for fine things. This one was comfortable and familiar. It was one of the few things she had left from Before.

"If this is fancy, I'm not sure you've looked around here much."

But she lifts her chin as she walks past him, taking the box on her way. The Up first flats seem to be all pretty similar, and she beelines for the kettle. "Where is your tea?" she asks absently.

"Okay maybe not fancy, but it's a nice dress.," he compliments. "Yeah, come in. Make yourself at home." His tone is a little flat and dry.

She swipes her box of cookies on her way in and it makes the edges of his lips curl into a smirk. He closes the door a passing moment later and follows behind her. "It's over here." Murphy walks around her now so he can get to the cabinet that he stowed away his tea. "I don't have a lot, just chamomile. I looked it up. It's supposed to help with sore throats and sleep."

He moves to the next cabinet over and pulls out a little jar of honey. "This, too." Murphy holds it out for her to take. "You sure I'm not keeping you? I don't want to get you into trouble."

She shifts slightly, one foot to the other. There's protection in someone waiting for you but-

It's a bit hard to be wary of Murphy. Particularly when he looks so pathetic. She fills the kettle from the tap. "The dominant I am contracted to is... out a lot. I get a fair bit of leeway to wander."

She sets the honey to one side with the tea, ready to be prepped. "Besides, it's pretty obvious that you don't know how to enjoy cookies. They're best with something like tea."

What she means is - it's clear you need someone to take care of you. "Isn't your submissive around to make sure you drink enough water?"

A soft sigh expells from his chest and out from his parted lips. Murphy frowns at her, "Do you have to tell them where you're going?"

The small part of his back presses against the counter when he leans onto it, arms loosely fold over his chest. "I haven't really had much of baked goods since I got here. I don't normally drink tea either. It's just for my throat."

"I don't have one," Murphy clips. "And I'm not going to get one to take care of me. I can take care of myself."

"Are you going to damage his property?" Her question is so flat, it could almost be mistaken for neutral. Mostly, she tried to stay out of the way, invisible. It seemed for the best, and luckily, there were people more interestjng than she was.

She gives him a sidelong once over, the look itself calling into question his statement. "Cups? Saucers?"

"What?" That was an odd thing to ask. "Do...I need to damage his property," he asks, one eyebrow quirks higher than the other. Murphy takes a moment to look her over, eyes ticking down her body to see if he notices any bruising. Some sign of her being treated poorly. Murphy wouldn't damage his property but he'd be stupid enough to confront her dominant personally.

"Hmn?" Pandora asked him a question and he only partially hears her. "I have mugs, yeah." Murphy uses his elbows to push himself away from the counter and walks to the other side of the kitchen. From another cabinet, he procures two mugs and puts them down onto the counter top. "Why do we need saucers? We can just use napkins to put the cookies on."

"I'd rather you didn't if it's all the same. But I don't imagine he much cares otherwise." Pandora's always bruised like a peach, so it's rather remarkable that other than some banged up shins, she's pretty spotless. Even she's not sure how she ended up in those chains without some marks.

Still, she lifts a brow at his look over, cheeks pinkening. Maybe because it has her thinking of that stupid dream. Though she doubts he'd ever actually look that way at her. Not in actual life. Who dreams about that sort of thing with someone they're fussing at on the net, anyway? Talk about crossed wires.

"We could," she says, in a voice that says they shouldn't. "I was going to warm them up, so I suppose a napkin would work." She blinks down at the second mug, momentarily confused.

"You sure? I'm pretty damn good at damaging property. " That's what Murphy did best, destroy things. His eyes flit away from her when sees her cheeks warm to a pink. It reminds him of how flushed her face looked after --

"Oh, if you want to warm them up, then here --" He opens the cabinet door again and pulls out a plate. It's smaller than a dinner plate so Murphy assumes this is what she means when she asked for a saucer. "Warm them on these. Microwave safe." He holds the plate out to her.

"What?" Murphy turns to look at the mugs. "You don't like them?"

"It doesn't matter if I like them. It's your home. I just- you probably only need one for tea."

She accepts the salad plate. If nothing else, she can warm up a few cookies. Opening the box, she arranges two of each on the plate. He'll have plenty left, since she brought a dozen of each.

"In case I was unclear - I would rather not be damaged."

"Yeah," Murphy drawls. "One for me and one for you? I have enough tea. Honey, too. Unless you want sugar. I got that." In another cabinet, he takes out a box of sugar and puts it next to the honey. "There --" He pauses. " -- Excuse me." Murphy looks and sounds dumbfounded.

He doesn't even know what to say and there's an awkward pause before Murphy remembers how to string words to make a complete thought. "You're not property."

She's not sure what she's said wrong at first. Had she offended him? She hadn't meant to do it on accident. But then he refutes what seems to be an obvious truth to her and she flushes with -

Embarrassment, maybe?

"As you like." Was it really worth the arguement? Would she end up with a citation if she disagreed? "Thank you. Honey would be lovely. "

"As you like, my ass," there's a little more bite to his tone now. "Is that what you are to him? Property? That's some bullshit if I ever heard any. Did you sign this contract willingly?" Murphy has so many questions now. Maybe that was her kink. Maybe she got off on being treated like an object?

Well, that's fucked up, Murphy thinks to himself. Why would anyone get off on that?

"Is that what you want?"

This is clearly a very sensitive subject.

Pandora's reaction is small but instantaneous. Her narrow shoulders hunch slightly, spine stiffening. He hasn't even raised his voice, but the displeasure is obvious. Keeping her gaze low - on the cups, the kettle, the cookies - seems best. "I don't see why you would concern yourself-"

Her tongue darts out, quick and pink, to wet her lips. It's an interesting position to be in, this new wariness and the old urge to push back. "It's not- you act as if it isn't that way for everyone. Submissives can't even buy necessities without permission from a dominant. What would you call that, if not property?"

"It's not what, huh?" Pandora's looked away from him and Murphy's craning his neck to look at her face. "Look at me." She's a wilted flower and part of him is guilty of making her that way.

"No. No, it's not the way of everyone. There are a lot of people, Doms, that treat their submissives as much of an equal as they can without getting scrutinized. And you didn't answer my question," Murphy points out.

"I asked if this is what you wanted. People aren't forced into contracts until the end of this month. So either you wanted this or he forced you into it. Which one is it?"

He can claim whatever he likes, but that's still an order on his lips. What can she do but obey? Even looking at him, her gaze moves everywhere but his eyes. To the bruising on his throat. The unhappy shape of his mouth. Someone had already given him the worst of it. Her heart was beating in her chest like it was trying for its own escape.

She didn't really want to think about it. Gilgamesh was right, wasn't he? Her voice is soft, less steady than she'd like. "I must have," She hadn't held on to her resolve to say no, had she?

The kettle choses just that moment to go off, and she flinches at the shrill whistle. Unfortunately, the kettle flinches, too, sliding a few inches away from her on the counter.

"You must have?" His face twists, sours. "What does that even mean? Shouldn't that be something you remember?"

The whistle captures his attention for a fleeting moment and only offers it a quick sidelong glance before his eyes tick back over to Pandora. Murphy leans over to put the kettle onto something that's not directly onto the counter.

"Who's your dominant?"

Pandora is very, very still. She takes a breath and wonders if he's going to react the same way that Waver did. "Gilgamesh. I - Uh, I guess King Gilgamesh-"

There are so many kings here. She's met at least three. "And I do- I mean I do remember. It's just- It's complicated."

"Gilgamesh. What the hell kind of name is Gilgamesh?" If Murphy hasn't made judgments on her dom before (and he has), then he does now. "Sounds like a pretentious asshole to me," he adds.

"Tell me about it." Murphy shrugs and goes back to his lean against the counter, arms fold and rest on his chest.

It's impossible to keep all the wariness out of her expression. Pandora had never been very good at lying and that extended to her body language.

He didn't seem like he was going to do anything physical - which had been a concern for a moment ,- but she was very confused by his focus on this topic.

She reaches for the kettle, to have something to do even if that's just making the tea. "Why? It's an... a nonevent. Do you just not know how contracts work?"

Oops, that was a bit mouthy. Her teeth press into her bottom lip.

Murphy scoots himself a little bit out of the way to give her room to prepare tea for them. He affords her a side eye, watching her pour water into the mugs, over sachets of chamomile.

His jaw visibly tenses when she speaks up again. Her voice may be small but her words had a way of being sharp. This is the second time she cuts him. "I know how they work." A beat later, "Raven and I are discussing the contract. Making sure its something we both want and agree on. Doesn't sound like that's what your dominant did."

Pandora is oblivious to the impact of that one little question. For all the benefits telepathy gives her, she's not really all that socially savvy. She's not even sure if he means a Raven she's talked to. She thinks there might have been one in passing, but this place was large and she was mostly ignorant of the interactions outside of the small number of people she interacted with.

So when she's says - "That's good", she means it. If Murphy is going to be kind and he's going to make sure that his submissive is comfortable with the process, then it's good. There is a measure of safety in being contracted, and she firmly believes that if one has to choice to go with someone safe, they should seize the opportunity.

Otherwise-

"That possessive pronoun isn't being used correctly." This isn't so much a decree from the top as the way she's noticed things work. "He's not mine. I'm his. Possession travels one way." She picks up the plate, stepping over to the microwave to warm up the cookies. As long as he doesn't stop her, going about the domestic things is soothing. "And- well, no. I mean-"

How does she explain it succinctly? "He was right that I wasn't going to be able to ... hold my resolve to say no." Then, a little quieter. "I said yes in the end."

Sometimes she looks at him as though he is speaking in a foreign language. It worries him because maybe he actually did say something stupid. The expressions on her face are always hard to decipher which makes it worse.

Murphy raises a brow, gives her a questioning look. "You're his," he doesn't sound convinced at all. "That's not how that works." It's something he doesn't want to point out but he does so anyway. "You can bullshit anyone else but I'm the best at bullshitting so try again."

His gaze follows her, watching her slip into this domestic role so naturally. "He forced you." Murphy can feel his blood boiling, anger rising to the surface. "Where the hell does he live?"

That was exactly how it worked, to her experience. Gilgamesh could be generous. She had a warm place to sleep. She wasn't struggling to feed herself. She was also fairly sure that if she tried to make a mutual claim, to restrict his movements in any way, she'd be well-educated on it being exactly how that worked.

That is to say, possession only traveled on way.

She really didn't have to be a telepath to realize that he was angry, but she is and the heat of it is scalding. Uncomfortable, and alarming. She turns to look at him, angling herself automatically so that she's not against the counter. The second surge of panic leaves her lips numb and her fingers cold.

Murphy directing that anger at Gilgamesh would be the worst possible choice. That's a 'Murphy dead and Pandora explaining why' situation. That's so not good.

"No." The word trembles. "No, I said yes." Eventually. Irrelevant. In that moment, she decides redirecting his anger is the best option. "Are you so lacking in troubles now, that you've decided to go dig into someone else's?"

Usually, in most cases, Murphy is the plan first and react later sort, but over the years that's slowly worn away. The breakup with Emori damaged a lot of him, especially his psyche.

"Did you want to say yes? Did you say no and he pushed you until you said yes? Because who have got to be some kind of warped to think you willingly signed that contract." He just keeps digging and digging, sticking his nose into things that doesn't pertain to him.

He cares, though. Murphy's not sure why he cares so much. This need to protect her. Unknowingly, it's something that he needs. He wants to be good at something. He was useless up in space. He wasn't an engineer or a scientist. Hell, Murphy isn't that great of a speller. All he did was watch everyone work and make stupid jokes.

Murphy watched everyone help and he slowly drifted into the background.

He did nothing to get them back down onto the ground.

"So you are in trouble."

Gosh. He really wasn't going to let go of it. She gapes at him a moment.

Anything she says is going to just escalate the situation. She's a terrible liar to begin with, but he's busy stripping her of all the comforting not-quite-lies she'd told herself.

She doesn't know what to say. She doesn't quite understand how they'd gotten to this point or how to get out of it. All she knows is that if he confronts Gilgamesh, that's it. Event horizon.

"Leave it alone." She wants it to be an order but it's more of a pleas. " I don't see why you're so- so interested. It doesn't matter. I- I did this to myself so don't waste your time-" There has to be a right string of words to get him off the subject, right? Right?

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mofi - 2018-12-16 07:31 (UTC) - Expand

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littlepandora - 2018-12-16 07:36 (UTC) - Expand

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