what does your oc like about the oc above them?

"Well, you're definitely interestin', aint'cha, pal?" Sister grinned, looping an arm around his shoulders and practically using him as an armrest. As if her aloof and rude attitude weren't enough, she was practically treating him as someone below her. 

Her tail lashed, and she inspected Dez closely. He dressed himself well enough, certainly better than the rags she wore at the moment.. and the almost devilish physical appearance he had was something she could appreciate as well. Horns? Fuck yeah, he looked like a kick-ass ram. Not to mention the sharp teeth and ears... a lot of what this guy had was something she would include in her own fashion, that is, if she had the funds for it usually.

"You're neato, that's for sure," She noted idly, "Got the clothes. You're definitely charming at first, charismatic if you'd like. But your history is something.. off-putting. How many times have you slipped from the grasps of death?" The humanoid poked him in the chest, what was now aloof being more cold and cynical. She smiled her own toothy grin, whether or not he took her comments personally was of no concern to her.

"You've got nothing notable about you to be powerful. You don't display anything powerful, as rude as it is to say. Yet you've lived through a lot of things that would kill a normal person..." Sister began to circle him like a wild animal, arms clasped behinds her back. Brother and Sibling floated around in her head nervously, wondering whether or not she was gonna start another fight like she usually did.

"An' you get awfully violent sometimes too. That's something that could put me an' my family in danger. Don't know if I like that too much but..." Humming thoughtfully, she continued to inspect Dez curiously.

"Who am I t'judge, really? So long as you don't come spoutin' none of yer bullshit 'round me an' my family, I think we'll get along just fine, pal." She cackled, almost in an evil way, and despite how honey-sweet her voice might've been, it advertised something much more malicious than dangerous to anyone who listened close enough.

Roswell stared at the person in front of him. He fold his hands behind his back while cocking his head. Starting at Sister with almost a glint in his eye. "You're fierce an' sharp. Yer take no, nothing, from de world, yer spat on it yer could. Yer good roight don't git me wrung.." Roswell said.  He smiled as he carefully approached her. His muscles we're like guitar strings that were strung to much. Tensed and ready to bolt. "Oi can only admire dat, especially in yer...situation, " he continued. Calm faced as ever while his bodylanguage, subtle as it was, suggested that he was in fact..afraid. Or at the very least readying himself to flee. Why wasn't be running?

"So what's yer goal? yer main plan, yer ace in yer sleeve. Ye want to stay dis, in this form, forever sprung?" Roswell said. His voice uncharactacly soft. As if he was testing her waters mixed with playing innocent himself. "Oi can 'ardly believe dat someone wi' yer wits and guts wud allow such a shallow life, " Roswell raised his hand disarmingly. "No offence, " he added. That always seemed to work. "Oi'm jist a 'umble occultist yer know. Oi don't nu much, about the Void's or other dark powers, " he mubled in a more quicker tone now.. "But!" Roswell raised one finger at Sister's direction. "Maybe oi can 'elp, in sum way. Read yer palm, lay some cards, look in de future so to speak!" Roswell said with a sheepish grin. All frauds. "For a wee price t'be sure."of course. 

--
Roswell rubbed the paper with his thumb. And even though, back on the party Roswell had suggested her to sell this piece, at least to a newspaper or an advertisement press he wouldn't do such thing himself. Nope this piece was going to be placed in his bookcase with his trashy romance novels. Man, did he love art and man, did he love pears.
"Well that's a great gift, thank yer madam" He said with a broad smile. "A souvenir? Aye, dat would work!" Roswell made a small bow. "I 'ope to see yer again, mayhbe another party," Roswell smile grew bigger. "Mayhbe another sketch."

Like not-great-aunt like not-great-niece, I suppose, but at least the former would go about her regard for the man more... normally? Hopefully.

"I do appreciate your advice, sir, I really do." Lacie told Roswell, sitting the two of them down at the table, placing her satchel down beside her chair. "As do I appreciate your company at that party some time back. Goodness knows my husband didn't offer much, if any." She barked out a laugh, but it was dry, pitiful. She was still sore about being left in the gardens, having little to do but sketch the garden pears. Sure, he apologized, but it was an inconvenience to be hauled to a place where she knew no one.

"You're... a bit talkative, I think, which isn't a bad thing." she then commented, "I'm not much of one myself, I don't think-- or, at least I don't approach people like you do, not often, and, well, parties are very dull when people don't walk up and chat each other up. It makes me wonder why some people even attend, but then I remember my own situation, and..." She went quiet, scoffed, and waved her hand.

Still, she couldn't deny what a charmer this guy was, even if it took her forever to finish those sketches she did. She felt that he was rather out of place, and assumed he would have had to have some amount of cunning to be able to get into the event. She always respected men who got through life by their cleverness, be it through deceitful means or not, because... Hey, she couldn't judge, you know? Maybe one day, she would get to know him better, to perhaps learn from him, but for now...

"A gift for you." Lacie murmured, sitting back in her chair. She leaned down and pulled out a thick sheet of paper. She nudged it across the table, towards Roswell. It was the sketch she did at the event, of course-- well-sketched and shaded pears.

"If you like pears so much, perhaps you would like this." She stood up from her seat as she finished, "It's not anything special, of course, but consider it a token, a souvenir from the party, whatever. Sell it, keep it, I don't mind."

lacie picks smith up . jpeg

Smith was likely supposed to feel guilty for - well - admiring the other upper-class woman so much considering that the latter was merely a reflection of herself. Meek ,solemn, and perhaps meant to die obscure. The younger woman knew that Johnson would likely flip his shit if he found out that she found solidarity with someone else, since that'd likely be considered selfish in the aristocrat's standards, but...

... Hey. He wasn't here right now, That asshole's opinion didn't matter one bit.

"I can't help but, well," started Smith while rubbing the back of her neck, "admire the fact that you... You uphold your rank so nicely." She chuckled with an almost nervous hint before that "hint" evolved into a full-on note as she started to wring her hands together. "I... I don't know how else to say it! You're able to work through the motions so nicely, and though you never really enjoyed the position of a noblewoman, you're able to act your rank without coming off as pretentious - or, worse - lowly. Does... Does that make much sense, miss? I don't know if it does. I doubt that it does, to be honest with you."

In other words, Smith wished that she wasn't such a coward, at least according to her husband. The younger woman did occasionally find it tempting to point out that he never really let her speak up in the first place. Emphasis on "occasionally." He always told her that it was for the best, and... In a way, perhaps the other party superseded her in almost every other way; perhaps Johnson would like her more than his own wife, and then what would that entail?

Disaster, probably.

"But that asides... You have... Talent. You're not more than just some man's wife, if... That makes much sense? Goodness, I'm being repetitive, but... I've heard about your art. Sketches, to be more specific. Mostly of fruits and plants, but... They're pretty nonetheless!" Her voice screeched to a stop with a squeak, before the mousy woman took a step back and lifted her hands up to her face. Poor Smith almost expected an insult, yet she continued, "I also heard rumors about your writing being more... Menacing than what you come off as in person, which... Really does sound freeing, but..."

She paused. There really was no "but" in this entire situation. Sometimes the woman did think of critiquing her husband, at least behind his back, but... She didn't think the other party would go that malicious of a route, so - obviously - Smith wouldn't do the same. Maybe she'd be a little inspired by that alias and take a note from that... Go that route...

"I guess, in a way, I just wish I wasn't so worried about politics this, politics that, you know... I just want to be happy, accomplish my purpose in life, but to be honest, I'm not even that sure what it is. You seem content at the very least, and... Well... I like that too, madame..."

IT IS TIME FOR SOME SOFT ANGST IN A FOLLOW-UP. thank you pickle for your necromancy....

"Life has been unkind to you," echoed a faceless voice from the middle-aged woman's room. The candles flickered as the temperature dropped, and the darkness in the room seemed to deepen. Soon a blue light became visible, glowing brighter to show a man with a lamp for a head, seated nearby Smith's bed.
"Emotions are what makes one individual," he said. Though difficult to know for sure where he was looking, he didn't seem to be looking at her; he seemed more interested in the corner of the room. "They are different for everyone, evolving and growing with them. Although lately negative emotions have been getting stronger at a much faster rate than positive. It becomes selfish, and cannibalizes others. That is the sad fate you went through, isn't it?" He finally shifted his head to face her. "To be so emotional that it was robbed from you. Simply cruel. However, you are not completely void of it all, are you?" he asked with a knowing chuckle. He tapped one of the orbs the lamp's structure held to the side of his face. It was very difficult to see it, but there was a weak, blue flame inside it. "There is a fire still brewing inside of you. What is its potential? Could the one responsible for taking your flame away be the same one that can rekindle it?" He tilted his head, as if reminiscing meeting said man. "How many times have you asked yourself that, I wonder." By the time she blinked, he was gone, and the room was back to normal.
"Life is resilient," he voice echoed around her. "Try as you might to extinguish it, the flames live on. What happens from then on is for you to decide. For that is what makes you you."

Salvador was quite familiar with the temperature drop, the darkness by now. It was quite..comfortable even. Salvador set himself better on the bench and glances up to the taller man next to him. He smiled. Still a bit carefully, but more open than normal. "I..have never thank you, " he told the embodiment of Darkness. "For your wisdom..your kind words, I liked those. Your smart remarks. " Salvador said. He pulled his legs up on the bench and wrapped his arms around it. "Thank you, " Salvador said. Then sniffed...was he crying? He was. But no because he was sad, he was..relieved. "I don't care what other people say, but I think you're pretty radical." He said with that watery smile of him. 

--

"He's..a bit off a stinky hu, " Salvador said with a very, very thin smile. "I mean my pah, the other you're talking about. " Salvador softly rubbed his wrist. His hands still felt..twitchy around Selene. Not in the sticky fingers kind of way. Nope! Never again! He had learned his lesson. But..different. The best way Salvador could describe it was; it felt like holding his frozen hands above a fire to warm. Only the fire was to hot and the painful sensation of getting your feelings back in your stiffed joints, felt too quick and too unnatural. "Or at least I assumed ye meant him, " placing one hand on his left eye as some form of a makeshift eye patch. "He talks with a stranghe accent, " Salvador continued in a half baked accent.

Despite the increasingly obvious fact that the demoness was... Having some trouble fitting underneath the roof of Dolores's house, the elder didn't seem to mind the other party's company. Hell, she cherished it - even - and it didn't even need to be accomplished via hypnotism! Dolores just happened to be that accommodating when it came to taking in guests into her home, regardless of the duration of the stay- Actually, scratch that. For obvious reasons, the older woman preferred the longer stays, but she always left this unsaid.

It was for the best, really.

Dolores now nudged a cup of tea towards the other party before humming, "You know, miss... I haven't seen anyone like you before. And I don't mean this in a bad way, too!" She laughed gently while looking up into those black eyes, then offering a gentle wave of her hand. "I know I can recognize you quite easily, and... In spite of your form, you're a rather sweet individual." And I hope I'm not extending that to its limits... There was a pause from there as she recalled how they had first met, when the demoness was hunched over a river and musing over wounds from the past.

She tried to not let that incident taint her current perception of the other party, not when the inferi was at her full height (well, for the most part) and splendor. It wasn't worth the risk being so condescending anyhow, even if Dolores was all too aware that the other party didn't mean her any harm.

"It's chamomile, by the way, with the slightest hints of honey and huckleberries," clarified the older woman with a nod before seating herself across from the other party. The gaze was intent, and her hands were neatly folded together. For a moment, it was easy to forget that Dolores was technically the one manning the household and not just someone who happened to conveniently occupy this place at this time. "It's an interesting juxtaposition, really. Bitterness combined with sweetness. It... It reminds me of you, in a way. In the sense that you can and will act to defend yourself and others around you if needed, but for the most part, you're just there to thrive off of positive emotions." Oh, if only she knew how literal that was supposed to be.

Dolores, of course, didn't seem to mind it too much as she nudged her own cup off to the side, as she concluded, "It's pleasant, really. Just... Unconventional, I suppose." Well, that was one way to articulate it. She chuckled under her breath while running her fingers through her hair. "I mean this in good faith, of course. It's always satisfying learning about new things, about new people, even if it's not for the novelty factor alone. You know... Sometimes, it's just nice to make friends along the way..."

it is grandma time, my dudes.... here's a follow-up for sweet Zuri....

Zuri was the type of woman to sit in the corner and pet the dog while visiting someone, which probably didn't leave much socialization between her and Dolores, but she tried her best.

"My apologies for dropping by unannounced." She muttered, quickly shutting the door behind her so that the icy wind wouldn't blast into the house. "It had to be done."

Zuri didn't win many friends. Sure, she could consider the heir and the lover as two, but they were considerably younger than her, so although she cared deeply for them, the connection she wanted to make just wasn't there. Honestly, she was pretty damn certain she wouldn't call Dolores a friend, either. How many times have they spoken to each other again..? Why was Zuri even at her house?

"Lord Alkaev wanted me to check on you, so I suppose it can't be helped." Ah. "Be glad he sent me is all, as it could be worse. Or better, if he weren't so preoccupied at the moment." Though even then she wasn't sure if he would brave the freezing temperatures of the mountain again. Why waste the energy?

She inched farther into the house, a shudder coursing through her body, her hands stiff around a glass bottle of frozen milk, one with a cutesy, wide-eyed goat printed on one side. Obviously, Zuri couldn't drink that, for she didn't have that sweet, sweet lactase gene, so it was better off with the other party, she decided. As soon as she kicked her boots off, she scurried to place the bottle on the nearest free surface, and then followed up with her longcoat.

"In exchange," she said, "You can make sure I don't die within the next thirty minutes. That shouldn't be so difficult for you, though. I assume that living out here for so long would have hardened a person to the elements. They would know how to deal with them." She was used to the complete opposite. Blistering sun, scorching sand, ocean waves-- all that she grew up feeling and seeing. But, snow-- she hated snow.

"You're some years older than I, I believe." she said, "So, to still be alive here, maybe you're stronger than you look." Sure, Dolores seemed like she couldn't lift a bag of potatoes to save her life, but being wise and resourceful enough to thrive in a place such as this was perhaps more commendable.

"It's respectable, really." she carried on, "And, you being once a maid, I should hope you also know how to keep people other than yourself alive. Something I can do, but..." She waved a hand. "More homely. Now, bring something hot, would you? Do you have a hearth?"

keep using him >:-(

also fun fact: a nickname for the baobab tree is the monkey-bread tree

As far as Brown was concerned, the "boy" in front of her was her not-son. The same fellow as the one whom she had taken such a motherly liking to, the one whom she made sure knew about her fossils and how they worked- Not to mention the fact that he had a genuine interest in her fossils! Her fossils! He didn't see them as a means to an end when it came to negotiating with her; he just thought that they were neat, and it actually made her stony heart melt ever so slightly.

But even then, she noticed that - sometimes - he'd act... Differently. Brown hadn't dealt with that particular issue herself. Only her friend did, and he was pissed about it. He lamented to her about how cold the "boy" was to him, to the point that he apparently made a joke about knives? Or at least tried making a bunch of mind games with him, which frustrated the domineering man to no end (as he deserved).

Brown, of course, saw no problem with that as she hummed and remarked, "You know... I have not ever seen you like this before. It must not be because my friend was such a huge bitch to you, huh? I know he's mean, but he's mean to everyone... He even acts that standoffish and arrogant towards me sometimes, and when he is like that, I kick his ass." How inspirational. "Perhaps you should too. The man is an expert with mind games, as you might already know, but.. Dear... If you want to make sure he does not bother you, if you really want to win... You need to beat him up a bit. I punched him in the nose once, and let me tell you, it was quite cathartic."

Why the fuck is she friends with Johnson again?

"That asides, however," continued the aristocrat with a twirl of her hand, "You are... Rather intriguing like this. My friend told me that you like... Knives? Or at least come off as rather morbid. Perhaps we could bond over that, and not when you are more... Shy. The brazen confidence, as you demonstrated to my friend, is rather admirable too. I always appreciate such energy if it is in the right people. Usually, that is not present in men, but..." Brown trailed off to lean in ever so slightly, a toothy grin on her face forming as she eyed him ever so steadily.

Goodness, what was in those eyes? They definitely seemed different from the aura that the "boy" normally gave off, but this is fine. Perhaps if this pops up often enough, I could use this to my advantage...

Hopefully she meant that she could have two not-sons instead of one. Because Brown definitely needed more found sons to add to her ongoing collection of them.

".... You make it work," Brown cooed to him, "You are... Rather grounded in your approach, even if you are - like my friend - a bit of a bitch at times. But we're all bitches. I don't think it matters in the end. Some just happen to be that more often than others, and you know what? I like that. I do not know if you are completely aware of this, but... I like this state. Opposites can attract, but birds of a feather can also flock together, dear. I merely hope I can examine this more... Personally, directly over time, yes? It's a real shame my friend got first dibs on you in that regard."

Brown: damn.... kinda wonder whether I should take him in as another not-son, or fight him.... :////

here's.... the actual follow-up... I'm so sorry for sweet Peter....

Peter leaned back in his seat, musing on the question before him. He wasn't even trying to hide his classic smirk. What did he like about Brown? How could he put aside their differences in this moment? If she still found him annoying after this, he wouldn't blame her. Most people would.

"Well... I can't deny it. You got style, that's for sure - and not just in terms of fashion. Yeah, anyone can tell you've got money, and anyone could also tell that you know how to use it. But, uh..." His foot tapped on the ground, a pause in his relaxation. Brown was, in many ways, the exact opposite of him. A rich socialite of a woman who was so incredibly tied in her ways - and there he was, sitting down where she stood tall, fidgeting in a pair of worn-in skate shoes with a lonely dollar in his pocket.

"That's just all a sign that you know what you want and you're dead set on getting it. Maybe I wouldn't personally agree with what you're after. I admire the dedication, though. And your luck. Definitely the luck. I... I could use some of that myself."

"Oi can alwus appreciate a gran' set av brains, " Roswell said as he poked the side of his head with his finger. Softly turning it as if he was wiring up the cogs in his own brain. "Though, oi 'av ter admit dat most things yer blather aboyt are a bit mumbo-jumbo too me, " Roswell continued. He then snickered and said underneath his great: "periodic systems ha! Pee-riodic, " before recovering by shaking his head. He straightened his color with a wide smile. "But dat doesn't mean dat it doesn't fascinate me!" Roswell said. Raising his hands defensively. "Not at al'. dare are...things, scientist-things dat can be useful in me kind av work field yer nu.. Oi know oi just look like a conman too yer but oi assure yer oi'm not, " Roswell lied through his teeth. "What oi do, is to benefit the kids oi shelter. The poor orphan's, maybe yer can learn them a thing or two....well de ones that can read and wroite of caurse." 

--

"Oh! Oi'm kwind avh aw Swaint, " he said. His mourh full with nuggies making him even harder to understand. 

"I've gotta say, Roswell, I was pretty skeptical about this food you really wanted, but you know? It's delicious!" En laughed, a buffet of McDonald's chicken nuggets laid out on the table, surrounded by fries. "I had these when I was young and exiled. I can't believe I almost forgot about them! It's delicious and crazy cheap! I love how they taste, but I'm honestly glad I forgot them. I feel like eating too much is going to end up bad on my body." He said that, yet easily popped a few into his mouth.
"Thank God for you, Roswell. You save my life then you remind me of great foods! Not to mention, you're pretty interesting. You know an awful lot of your city and you must have a caring heart to take those two people under your wing. We really ought to meet more so I can hear stories about you. We can eat this kind of food every time we meet, too," he beamed.

"Ah! Oww, oww!" En winced, yet maintained a small smile while Cordelia pinched his face. When he was freed, he rubbed the soreness from one. "I'm surprised you haven't found someone else already. I'm sure Allegro would have wanted that, and knowing him he's having the time of his life flirting with the angels," he chuckled until he got pinched again. "Ah! Jeez, I'll pay you back!" he whined until freed once more, this time grabbing her wrist to avoid falling for the same trap. "I can always give you another one," he teased until Clayton was brought up, making him look away with a sigh. "Mmm, that's another can of worms to open for another day."