Recovery (Closed AU)

theculturedcrow:

The crow hybrid glanced up, staring at the mansion with a curious and anxious gaze. There wasn’t much time to stare, as he was quickly tugged along and inside. The man leading him, handed him over to a maid of sorts and told her to get him cleaned up. He could understand that, his wings and skin were rather dusty from having been sitting in a cage for most of the morning. He was led off to a washroom and scrubbed down, keeping quiet all the while. The servants passing by would ask him questions from time to time but eventually gave up as he stayed silent. Speaking was something he’d nearly forgotten how to do after such a long time of being silent, but he at least understood whatever he was told. After getting cleaned, he was left alone for a moment and he absentmindedly scratched under his collar.

At least he could tell by this point that they weren’t simply going to treat him like nothing, though he didn’t know if that would change once he was introduced to his owner. The maid came back and ushered him out of the washroom, and into a large parlour like room where there were cozy seats and a fireplace. She had him sit down and told him that he would be meeting the ‘young master’ shortly. He presumed that meant the son of who owned the house. He twiddled his thumbs as she left again, then took to smoothing out his feathers. Whoever was owning him, he did want to make a good impression. The crow had no desire to go back to living in a cage.

A knock on his door interrupted him, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. By now, he wasn’t very fond of the servants’ fussing over him as if he was a fragile little doll made of porcelain, and they knew that. However, it was part of their job, no matter how much Gilbert showed open derision at their frequent check-ups to make sure he wasn’t freaking out over something presumably “fake.” He called them in anyway, was introduced into the situation, and immediately his hard exterior melted away even as the maid made an attempt to smooth out his hair as she led him through the halls to their destination. Once her back was turned, however, he ran a hand through his hair and ruffled, just to disobey. She didn’t seem to notice as the door was opened and he was ushered inside.

Introduced as Gilbert Beilschmidt to his permanent guest, the albino took the time to look his new, ah.. companion over. Those were wings, not designs on a poorly-made shirt, and rather than socks those were… something unpleasant. They reminded him of his hallucinations, and his jaw visibly tightened as his ruby eyes found their way to them. The similarities went almost unnoticed; Gilbert was too busy with the abnormalities he wasn’t expecting. The door closed behind the maid after she made some comment about getting situated with each other, although Gilbert was suspicious she would either be waiting outside or she’d check on them again soon. After a brief moment of silence, he cleared his throat awkwardly, just noticing the same pale hair and odd eyes as his own, and momentarily had a superstitious thought that was pushed away. He wasn’t very good with making friends, acquaintances, saying hello to strangers—anything. His illusions could be thanked for that; it was drilled into his head that other beings weren’t to be trusted, human or animal.

“… Hello.”

mechanikalspielzeug:

Things are both clearer and fuzzier as he lets Gil pull him closer so he’s practically chest to chest with him. When the last kiss breaks he laughs and presses their foreheads together, giving him the goofiest, warmest grin he can manage.

“I think you must have swallowed a magnet… Kese. I’m sorry. That was a little without warning, sorry. Really.”

That squirming feeling purred happily at the kisses, though, and while he can’t quite grasp the rest of it he knows he liked it maybe more than he should have.

And Gilbert grins right back, hand lightly rubbing Gilbie’s waist, and he pecks him again. “No, don’t be sorry. I liked it, I did.”

The answer came, yes, but how to receive it? He wasn’t very good at these things— Hell, he’s been stuck in a hospital for years, and the last good many times he’d done that was a long time ago, not forced upon him, although he didn’t initiate it. We could say Gilbert’s a little out of practice.

Recovery (Closed AU)

theculturedcrow:

The hybrid glanced out of the cage at the person staring down at him. He wasn’t too surprised as they turned to talk to the menagerie owner and money traded hands. Apparently he was a sort of rarity, having vastly different coloring as his human body was albino, but his wings and clawed bird feet were black as pitch. His refusing to speak to most had lowered his price a little, but hardly enough to allow anyone of a lower class to have him. He decided to listen in on his buyer’s conversation, and heard a few telling words like ‘gift’ and ‘similarities’. From what he could gather, he was going to be given to someone, and he looked a bit like them.

The cage door was opened shortly, and a leash hooked onto his collar. With no finesse at all, he was tugged out and his wings flapped pointlessly. He looked around the dusty marketplace where he and other hybrid creatures like himself were being sold to wealthy nobility as signs of wealth or merely as companions. It had been a common practice, started not long after the first hybrids were discovered. He let himself be led by his buyer, having been raised in captivity, he was well used to being tugged around a bit. He’d always been spoiled because of his rarity as well. The owner of the menagerie waved him off. Of course, he had no clue where he was going, but he did hope his new owner wouldn’t be too bad. A flare of nervousness hit him, and his wings ruffled up as he was nudged into a carriage and it started moving, the buyer going to sit with the driver who was tiredly steering the horses. He pressed himself against a door and hugged himself for comfort.

Too loud, too loud, it was a bit too loud in that room… Watching the happenings from the window usually calmed Gilbert down, although he still couldn’t keep still. The chair was permanently seated next to the pane, just for him, just so he could look out and settle down. He would get distracted by a couple walking together, hands interlocked; carriages one after another, determined for a destination; a group of young people clustered together and talking amongst themselves… Oh, how he wished he could have that closeness with someone, to have a companion. And he’d been asking for one, asking his father when his servants politely refused his advances in friendship; although, that was probably partly his own fault; did Gilbert really understand how a relationship with someone worked? He’d never been close with his father, and his mother avoided him. The albino was sure they were only scared of him, of the voices, of the shadows he seemed to attract and be visible to only him… While his parents insisted to him that these “illusions,” as they called them, weren’t real when he’d take comfort in them as a child, he knew they were, he knew it, he could feel them, see them, hear them, talk to them…

Movement caught his eye—his own carriage, one that he’d ridden in only twice before, once as a child, and another time for a funeral that he couldn’t remember for whom. An unfamiliar figure was inside, he could tell even as they’d only began to step out; odd-looking, he could tell, though from the third story of the mansion he wasn’t sure what  they were wearing. What a pitiful-looking choice of clothing; something dark was on his back that he couldn’t see, and some odd-fitting socks to maybe his knees, it seemed? Gilbert snorted contemptuously. Why, now of all times, did they have a visitor? Faint hope sparked at the thought that, just maybe, his father had purchased him a companion, or had found someone willing on the streets… Though, if he knew his father, likely this was not the case. A deep frown formed on his features, lips drawn in a thin line. Maybe, though… Maybe.

mechanikalspielzeug:

Stop it with all the questions, for Pete’s sake, he can’t think, you’re making him all flustered!

So on sheer instinct the first thing he does is the same way he’d shut Ludwig up; grab the back of his head and smooch him so he’ll go quiet for just long enough to get through.

“Th’grey things came to visit… But I don’t know what they did, not really. Sorry f’that, it’s the first thing I thought of-“

Oh, but could he do it again? Maybe just… One more time, or twice… Or… Mmnn…

Oh— The smooch does quiet Gilbert, yes, though mostly because he’s confused at a feeling in his stomach— What is that, what—

He listens, nodding slightly. Yes, they’ve visited him, too. Are they the cause of his problem, as well? He doesn’t know, he—

More kisses? He’s fine with that, and this time he’ll respond. He cups Gilbie’s cheek gently, one hand still on his hip and drawing him closer and..

And now he knows what he wants.