Mairèad & Shepard: April 17

[after Conobar finds them almost having a moment]

Shepard says: I'm beginning to think there's something on me that draws him.

Mairèad says: He's so queer fer you.

Shepard says: Light forbid. I'll have to ice myself over next time to escape his piercing gaze and grabby hands.

Mairèad suddenly looks quite sad that she's finished her cupcake so quickly. She sighs and scoots over, resting against Shepard again. "Seriously...I ent creepy like that, am I?"

Shepard says: Well, you certainly don't stalk me.

Mairèad says: Mm, I figure people don't like bein' stalked much.

Shepard says: Well, some people do. The 'sexual thrill' of it all.

Mairèad hesitates a beat before commenting, "Y'know, I kin't picture you doin' anythin' jest fer th'sexual thrill of it. That'd be like icin' t'you."

Shepard says: Trust me, if anything thrilled me, I'd be scared witless. At myself.
Shepard says: I mean, look at what I write.

Mairèad says: No shit, yahar? Light, it almost makes it terrifyin' t'think of you in that way.

Shepard says: I'd probably have you drenched in blood while babies wailed in the back-- alright, even I can't finish that.

Mairèad laughs and shakes her head. "That shit doesn't actually get you goin', does it?"

Shepard says: Not one bit.

Mairèad says: Good.
Mairèad sighs quietly and looks up at Shepard. "I hope errythin' you said the other night doesn't make you uncomfortable around me."

Shepard grunts, running a hand through his mane. "It's been said, and I can't cover it up now."
Shepard says: So. Enjoy the scrapings of my heart.

Mairèad says: Why's it worry you, what you said?

Shepard says: Because- it- uh.
Shepard says: That sky. Is really purple and... starry.

Mairèad says: Shep.

Shepard looks around. "Isn't it, though? Starry. Purple." He's coughing a lot.

Mairèad looks down at her hands wiht a quiet sigh. "It's wonderful," she says in a voice that suggests the opposite.

Shepard grunts, sighs and then whines. "...becauseit'sweirdformeandawkward."

Mairèad says: It's weird and awkward fer me, too. I mean...it's scary, y'know? All 'a this.

Shepard says: ... I don't do well with easy.
Shepard says: So.

Mairèad says: So?

Shepard says: This should be fun and interesting and...
Shepard lofts a brow, wriggling his fingers. "Well, it is fun and interesitng, but. Maybe- hmf. Maybe it's because I can't use my hands to work with it."

Mairèad bites her lip for a second before pointing out, "Well, y'could. But I ent a exhibitionist." She gives him a tentative smile before adding. "Think of it like a mind puzzle, somethin' that's not got t'be put t'gether with hands. But mebbe with words."

Shepard says: Wha- how could I use my hands...?
Shepard flexes his hands. His clawed, sharp hands.

Mairèad says: ...that's why you'd hafta be in yer human form.

Shepard says: I- don't think it works like that.
Shepard says: Anyway! Scary, yes. I can work with scary.

Mairèad says: How d'you mean it doesn't work like that?

Shepard says: Huh?

Mairèad says: D'you have claws when yer a human?

Shepard says: No, but. Well.

Mairèad looks up at Shepard curiously.

Shepard says: It'd be very... awkward. I'd probably shift during all that. And while some women have strange kinks, I doubt they'd like a sudden increase in size. Not to mention the fur.
Shepard says: And the growling.
Shepard says: And the teeth.

Mairèad says: Well. That's why you'd work yer way up. Start with things that wouldn't shift you. Gradually increase tolerance. Kinda like you did with magic. That's how most blokes are, anyway, even without bein' wergin.

Shepard's eyes twitch, and he hangs his head. "I- would just want to be myse-- why am I takling about this."

Mairèad says: Then be yerself. I don't rightly care one way or th'other.
Mairèad says: Yer mine, that ent gunna change if you look like a wergin or a human.
Mairèad's cheeks and ears flush when she realizes she's used that particular term of endearment on Shepard.

Shepard says: I'm yours...?

Mairèad says: W-well. I mean.
Mairèad glances down at the mustard flowers. They are so pretty. "...better than most things I could'a called you, I guess," she mutters, absently tearing out blades of grass.

Shepard stares dead ahead. STARES. "How did this topic come up."

Mairèad says: ...I don't know.

Shepard looks away. Awkward. "Well."

Mairèad says: Well.
Mairèad reaches over somewhat hesitantly, brushing her hand against Shepard's. She doesn't say anything, and she doesn't look at him. Just, well. Hands.

Shepard doesn't react, minus the odd twitching. "It's, uh, nice out."

Mairèad's hand remains in place. "...rilly nice."
Mairèad says: ...I'm pushin' again, aren't I.

Shepard says: Just a little.

Mairèad rests her hand in her lap, frowning at the flowers.
Mairèad says: I'm sorreh. I don't mean to.

Shepard says: I know you don't. I've... come to accept that.
Shepard says: Besides. You get a little farther each time. Maybe in thirty years you'll finally do something remarkable.

Mairèad chuckles weakly and goes back to leaning against Shepard, still looking at the flowers. "You'd be worth th'wait," she admits softly. "...and yer still mine, if onleh t'keep th'Cathedral Square crazies off yer dick."

Shepard says: ... I don't know why they'd even want it.
Shepard deadpans, looking down at Mairead. "It wouldn't even fit."

Mairèad says: ...how big -is- it, anyway? Scientific research only.

Shepard rolls his eyes. "I don't know, I don't measure it. Big?"

Mairèad laughs, relaxing again and shaking her head. "I nevarrr got th'way lots of blokes are with their dicks. It's like...well. Secret here: it's more th'way you use it than how big it is."

Shepard 's right eye twitches, hands coming up. He keeps them roughly seven inches apart. "... That? I think." He sighs, letting them fall back down to his lap. "I don't -look- at it on -purpose-, so. There's your 'scientific answer'."

Mairèad says: And y'don't wank.
Mairèad gives Shepard an impish grin.

Shepard sports an impassive face, though the edges of his lips twitch into a frown. "...uh."

Mairèad chuckles. "I'm jest teasin' you. Y'know, it's kinda funny seein' you like this. Errythin' else in th'world, y'know more'n me."

Shepard says: Hmph. I'll- well-
Shepard snorts. "...maybe I'm a great actor."

Mairèad leans backwards so that she's lying across Shepard's lap in an overdramatic fashion. "So yer rilly th'most passionate of lovers, capable of showin' me pleasures beyond me wildest imaginin's?" she asks in a voice that matches her posture.

Shepard lets out a rumbling grunt, looking away, his face locked into one of concentration. Mairead MIGHT feel something thwack against her back because oh god what is this.

Mairèad's eyes go wide and now it's -her- turn to freeze. She looks up at Shepard, face registering more shock than anything else.

Shepard grumbles and looks around awkwardly. 'Nother thwack, then a wince.

Mairèad stays frozen a moment longer before twitching to try and sit up. This results in a great deal of awkward contact and one accidental hand-brushing that actually serve to make things worse. She finally succeeds in sitting up and coughs. Awkwardly.

Shepard winces AGAIN, leaning forward. He sits there, hunched over, grumbling. "...I miss the leather."

Mairèad says: ...does, um. Does this usually happen? Is that why y'don't want me sittin' on yer lap?

Shepard says: ...sometimes.
Shepard says: The leather- helps. A little.
Shepard is speaking in the most defeated voice ever.

Mairèad says: You should think about things that you hate, if y'want it t'go away.

Shepard glances to Mairead, now even -looking- defeated. "It... doesn't help. I try, and then other- other memories... images, flash through my mind."

Mairèad tries not to smile. She tries so hard, but even when she fails, it's more a smile of kindness than one of amusement. "Ahh, mine. Y'nevarrr had a bloke t'explain all this fer you, huh?"

Shepard coughs, his stare moving to the ground. The nice, blank ground. "No. I haven't."

Mairèad says: Well. It kin't be jest somethin' that's kinna..."eh." It's gotta be somethin' that's rill gross.

Shepard winces for the third time, but he sits up. His eyes are darting from side to side; he's without a doubt searching for something gross.

Mairèad says: Or y'wait fer it t'go away. Or, if yer alone and able, y'wank.

Shepard comes out of his self-imposed trance, looks down, then sighs with relief. "...right."

Mairèad's smile has become apologetic. "Sorreh. Y'nevarrr said anythin'."

Shepard grunts, looking positively embarrassed. "We were always in public. I- well. That wouldn't have made things easier."
Shepard says: "Hey, get off my lap. I'm a little too aroused right now."
Shepard says: Just rolls off the tongue...

Mairèad chuckles and shakes her head. She leans on Shepard's arm after a moment. "Nah, but we could have a secret signal. Like you scratch yer nose or somethin'."
Mairèad says: Though. If yer gunna be wearin' nothin' but robes from now on, I think I'll be able t'figure it out fer meself.
Mairèad says: ...at least when I'm not wearin' plate.
Mairèad winces at the thought of that.

Shepard groans, hanging his head. "Lovely."
Shepard says: You'll either get a surprise, or I'll get a crushed-
Shepard cringes.

Mairèad cringes.

Shepard says: ... You're wearing cloth around me. Leather at best.

Mairèad says: ...does this mean I should start wearin' dresses?
Mairèad sounds -horrified-.

Shepard says: I said cloth, not... -that-.

Mairèad says: Thank the Light. Robes I kin handle. Dresses...I onleh have one. It's nice and all, but...I am not a dress person.

Shepard fiddles with the hem of his robes like an antsy child. "Uh-huh."