Before the hotel, her last shreds of hope that she would ever break free of the cycle of the House were beginning to wither and rot away, like so much else about her. Now though, in the is new life she's built for herself — traveling to other worlds, hand in hand with Odette, she feels lighter than she'd ever imagined she would again.
But no matter how much time passes, there are things she can simply never forget. Things that aren't meant to be forgotten, maybe... things she could, would bare to one of the people that's helped bring her back from the brink. Giselle can think of herself as pathetic at times — it's taken a lot of time an encouragement and coaxing for her to stand on her own two feet again, to really be Giselle, or at least a shadow of her once more. There's still one more obstacle in the way, though... one thing standing in the way of her feeling like she can be loved. Seen. Embraced by Odette.
It'll just take courage. Courage that she knows she can muster up — she's done this once before, she thinks. Long, long ago. The specifics are lost to her, but she remembers feeling like a dam had broken, once she'd had the strength to bear her scars, the defilement, the ugliness. It's not that she thinks Odette will turn her away, or look at her in disgust... she would've done that long before now, if her opinion were so shallow. She's nervous all the same, even if she's really longed to close this distance between them for so long.
Because this is more than just being about her. It's about Odette too, getting closer to her, embracing everything that she is. She's ready — just nervous.
She's sitting on the lip of the tub while it fills up, cozied up in a long fluffy robe despite being unable to feel the full extent of its warm comfort. The bath, too, is steaming hot as the water runs, the pleasant aroma of lavender and vanilla wafting through the humid air — but Giselle doesn't test the water herself, knowing doing so is futile. As ever, she's taken to the busywork of preparing the bath, more at ease when she has a job to do; she's good at this, besides, knowing the perfect scents to add without it becoming cloying. Ensuring there are the right soaps, towels, anything else they might need. Her long, raven hair is pulled over her shoulder, freed from its braid. ]
Allow me to adjust the temperature, if you find it unpleasant. [ Her head lifts, eyebrows furrowed a little helplessly, searching Odette's eyes. ] And thank you... for joining me.
[ It's likely that this was her suggestion after all — certainly peculiar, for as much as Giselle tends to shy away from physicality of any kind. But there can be no mistake: she wanted this. ]
[All things considered, they're pretty spoiled in this life.
Sure, Odette can't burn money the way she could while she was hopping around the world on a 12-week limit to live it up, but she's still figured out her ways to keep them living a fairly luxurious lifestyle. And when it comes to getting things for Giselle, it's the same. Even when it comes to things Giselle can't feel or taste, Odette makes sure there's no difference in what she gets. Everything about the bath, from the robe to the bath oils, is as fancy as they can handle.
Odette sits on the bathroom counter - leans against it, really, with her height - and watches the water stream into the tub, coils of heat rising from the surface.]
Why's that? You're the expert. Figure you got it set up just fine. [There's an innate, thoughtless trust in that, too -- the loose belief that Giselle will have it correct from the start.
She's also not a dumbass. For Giselle not just to accommodate but to suggest something like this means that something has to be up. Odette meets her gaze, her brow also creased with a thoughtful line. She doesn't question her decision or ask if she's sure about it; doing that would just be questioning what the girl wants. She's not here to do that.] It's no problem, missy. You don't gotta ask twice. You sure are something, though... making it all formal like this.
[ Well, she figures Odette is mostly right.... when was the last time Giselle ever burned someone with water that was too hot, or served them a drink that was only lukewarm? She has a sense for these things, even if she can actually sense the temperature itself. She sighs, tilting her chin down — more out of an attempt to let go of some of her nerves than anything else. ]
Perhaps that is just what I am used to... [ It's still hard for her to let go of her training, sometimes. She's getting better, but 600 years is a long time to be one way. Gently, she pats the lip of the tub next to her, beckoning Odette over silently. ] But I don't mean for this to be a formal affair. Rather, the opposite.
[ She trails off, closing her eyes briefly, brows knitted, as though straining against something. Let it never be said that Giselle does anything flippantly; while she carries out most of her day to day actions with grace, there's always intent behind her every blink and word, every movement of her hand. Here, too, there's visible effort going towards spilling each word — the only difference is that she's showing that effort rather than bury it. A sliver of her humanity wrenched back. ]
...I have something I must show you. [ The words have to be pushed out like a stubborn splinter, but she does it anyway, her ghostly heartbeat quickening. More shyly: ] If I'm to be at your side... I want you to see all of me. Else — I don't think I'll ever have the courage to be looked at.
[ She needs to intentionally show Odette the marks she bears, they're not things that can or should be seen in passing. After all this time, she's still too afraid to be perceived and judged in such a way. Only like this can she stomach it. ]
[She doesn't usually like the idea of coming obediently when called, but when Giselle beckons her over, she moves over naturally and without complaint, perching on the side of the tub. She'd be laughing at herself for this, but what can she really say? Odette's a weak person, through and through.
Even if Giselle says she doesn't want formal, she's still a little wrapped up in how she carries herself, isn't she? Being the maid has kept her at arm's length for centuries. If Odette didn't know that she was capable of being feisty, of pouting and talking back and being teasing, then she might be convinced that this is simply how her unusual out-of-time companion is.
With the same intention and control that defines any of her actions toward Giselle, Odette catches her beneath the chin with one finger, applying pressure gentle enough to tilt her face up into her palm, fingertips caressing at her jaw. Everything she does might seem flippant and with disregard, but she's equally as intentional--even if it's often in the other direction, cunning and calculated. In this, though, her purposes are comforting. Some say she can make others feel at ease so they won't feel her stabbing them in the back, but there's not really any sign of that in the deliberate and almost tender way she tries to steady Giselle with a touch that doesn't have to make her recoil.]
Sure thing. You want my attention? You've got it; undivided. [She doesn't give a shit, though not meanly. There's not much Giselle could show her that would change her mind, and that's what Odette wants her to understand.] Easier for you if I go first?
[ Her face turns easily when Odette turns her face her way — they've been close enough for a time now, to the point that she doesn't reflexively flinch and shudder away at every fleeting touch. This much, she's grown to enjoy again. So her head rests gently in her hold, feeling more grounded and secure.
She doesn't trust her voice in this moment, so she simply nods once, brows turning up in a sort of helpless way. She's not quite smiling wryly, but it's almost there, the corner of her lip just barely curved up. Thank you, she wants to say, but the words get caught in her throat. Odette knows what to offer when she doesn't know what to ask sometimes — this is certainly like that, and she's grateful, even if she does feel a little pathetic, too. Not so pathetic that she won't accept what's been graciously offered to her. Her cold hand reaches out, closing loosely around Odette's wrist. Her thumb graces her pulse point, the draw of her fingers quietly affectionate.
Her companion doesn't quite need the coaxing and same support that she does, she knows. But everyone needs someone who could see them at their barest, their rawest, and not turn away, she thinks. There's a lack of judgment, or even curiosity in her eyes — there's only acceptance, solid and firm like an oak. Though she can't feel the same level of certainty about herself, she can feel it towards Odette. Maybe through feeling that, she might come to understand how Odette might feel about her in this moment. ]
[Her thumb sweeps across Giselle's cheek in response to the stroke against her wrist, echoing the movement. She stands up first, still maintaining the touch until she's back on her feet. Then she goes about withdrawing her hand, extracting herself so she can stand and unbelt her fluffy robe, shrugging it off.
Odette doesn't exactly dress modestly, so Giselle's seen most of what she has on offer. She's built like a wall of muscle, but echoes of her past are etched on her skin, scars bored into her forearms and stomach. Most of her damage is on the inside, though. That's where the really fucked up stuff lingers. It's the stuff that no amount of muscle can cover up and no amount of fighting can beat.
She can't deny that this is a lot more exposing and vulnerable than if she'd been undressing flirtatiously. There's no playful nudging and no teasing words to lighten things. It's the kind of intimacy that makes Odette feel just a little bit itchy. It'd be easier, actually, if this were merely for sex. She inhales deeply, then lets the breath out in a heavy sigh as she ruffles a hand through her hair.]
[ It's true, she has seen most of what Odette has to offer. The muscle mostly, but the scars, too, if not totally then in bits and pieces. She'd never look at someone differently for bearing such things, nor is she insensitive enough to try to reach out and touch them — not when she's recoiled so easily at the touch of others for so long. She's patient and open, watching her undress — there's nothing even really awkward about it, not to her, at least. If anything, she's endlessly grateful for Odette's courtesy.
At the question, though, she hesitates, slowly drawing the string around her waist. It loosens, the fabric opening slightly and showing the swell of her cleavage. Giselle's about the opposite when it comes to showing skin: in her maid's apparel, all that was visible were her hands and face. Even after discarding it, She never shows her chest or legs — is adamant about it, really.
The scars he left were always above a certain point, so that they couldn't be glimpsed if she wore a full skirt. As such, even Giselle's nightgowns are long, and she wears high socks underneath, absolutely avoiding letting Odette catch even a glimpse of it. She's a perceptive person, and must have noticed this was all being done pointedly and intentionally after some time free from her uniform. It's those efforts that's making it hard for her to comply with the question, but with a shuddering breath, she unties the knot fully, gripping the lip of the tub with one hand to steady herself. As she stands, she's trembling.
The reason why becomes clear enough as the robe opens with her straightening — even without it fully being off or completely baring the map of her skin, the history of violence is extensive. The last time she'd bore these marks to someone else, she'd explained that every method of harm that man could think of, he had tried on her. She's been whipped, beaten, burned, cut up, had skin peeled away.... and the places that aren't marked from the waist down are few and far between. The higher up the scars are, the more severe the wounds left seemed to have been: her ghostly nature has frozen all these scars in time, but their existence at all is enough to put together that they come from a time when she was still alive.
Though the backs of her thighs are still covered by the robe, it can only be assumed it's much the same on the other side. The history is laid bare without her saying anything: these aren't wounds that were made after one or two encounters. But over dozens and dozens of abuses. Worst of all of them, perhaps, is a deeply carved word on the inside of her right thigh, not far down from her sex, 'HARLOT' in an archaic script.
She can't lift her head from the shame. All these years... and the feelings of disgust still come back, disgust at what had been done, and at her own body. Her curse means that she'll never be free of this. She can't help herself; tears run cold from her eyes, even as she valiantly tries to control her expression, expending every ounce of effort to keep a stiff upper lip. Maybe it's a good thing, that she can't close herself off so easily anymore. At the same time, her heart races, feeling humiliated and filled with adrenaline all at the same time.
But this is something she needs to do. She can remember, vaguely, coming to this conclusion before: that she'd never be able to feel truly loved until her partner had seen all of her. Though the tears drip from her face, she doesn't make a sound, not quite accepting Odette's offer to take her garment. She's a little too.... sensitive, doesn't know how she might feel being undressed by a hand that's not her own while showing this. That, too, she feels guilty for. ]
I'm sorry, [ She murmurs, extracting herself from the sleeves, with all the tenseness of someone pulling out their own tooth. Perhaps it's a testament to the strength of her will, that she continues on doing something that's causing her so much visible distress. But Giselle is stubborn, she's always been stubborn, and she won't go back on her word, even if it feels as though she's debasing herself. This was her decision, to share this with Odette. Like an olive branch, and a way to keep this heavy moment moving, she offers the robe to Odette with a shaking hand, turning her head towards the bath. It's almost full. ] I need a moment.
[ Before she can speak clearly again. She keeps her eyes low, too anxious to look at Odette's face, afraid of what she might see there. Instead, she turns half to her side to shut the water off, her long hair obscuring some of her form as she does so. ]
[There's really not much in this world that's worse than being a woman. It doesn't matter how much energy you pour into getting stronger. It doesn't even matter how far you run. Giselle's distance was in years; Odette's was in miles. It's all here, still, all the same.
Giselle is beautiful, especially when her face fully reveals her emotions (it should be pathetic to cry so easily over kitten videos, but when she sees Giselle doing it, it's offensively cute), but she won't insult her by saying those scars are anything but an ugly violation of her body. It'd insult her real beauty to think or claim otherwise.
She wonders if Giselle ever broke the way that she had. Any of the ways that she had. It's difficult to imagine her letting vengeance get the better of her...and the truth is, even if she had, it wasn't like it'd make anything better in the end.
She accepts the robe when it's handed to her, but Odette doesn't seem all that interested in the apology. It's just unnecessary. This was what she meant, anyway - taking the garment from Giselle once she'd finished undressing. She knows better than to put her hands on her, especially when she's revealing this raw side of her, one that Odette already knows has to have been wrought by someone else.]
What're you sorry for? You're doing good.
[There are hooks for hanging them, but Odette folds the robes up instead and leaves them somewhere within arms' reach of the tub. She's no Giselle, but she is surprisingly fastidious, neat in her own living space, even though her personality would suggest none of that tidiness. This time, however, it seems smarter to leave them where Giselle can quickly get her hands back on them. As she puts them up, Odette shakes her head.]
Bordel de merde. [She tsks beneath her breath, unable to remain completely free of disgust. None of it is for Giselle.] They'll really do whatever they can to take whatever they can from you. Lemme get you a tissue. Wipe your own eyes when you're ready. [When she offers it, the eye contact is there, too, waiting for when Giselle is ready to raise her eyes.]
[ Once she successfully turns off the water, she has to hold her breath momentarily to keep any sound from escaping, feeling a bit pathetic even as Odette does all the right things. Another tear drips from her face, making a ripple in the bath, only raising her eyes high enough to take the tissue.
She can't quite say thank you just yet, but it's appreciated. Her face falters a bit more, now with something to dab at her tears with in hand — and with Odette's kindness sticking to her like a burr. For a stretch of time, the only sound is Giselle's gentle taps at her own face. Eventually, with shaking breath: ]
A long time ago, I remember thinking that there would be a wall between myself and someone else, if they never...
[ Saw this. She'd never be able to fully believe that they loved her, loved her in spite of all this tarnishing. ]
That's why I... wanted to show you. [ Will Odette understand that? Painful as this is, Giselle sees this as a necessary step to become closer. Absolutely necessary, in her opinion. A part of her wonders if she's burdening her, or making herself seem miserable and pitiful, neither of which she wants to do — but her decision is still firm. She folds her arms to obscure her chest, not bothering with covering one or two of her many scars. ] I know it's unsightly...
[ The words aren't even particularly self-deprecating: it's just fact. And more than that, none of this can never be erased, cursed to mar her for eternity. Giselle lets out a breath, trying to calm herself. ]
But I hope you'll understand my heart. I don't want to feel like... I have to hide this from you...
[ Or anything, really. Doing so only makes her feel less desirable. Only then does she lift her head to meet her eyes, openly vulnerable, and seeming much younger than her storied, wise persona she wore so often at the hotel. Very tentatively, she holds a hand out to her, palm up, wondering if she still might reach out, still might touch her, in light of all this. When she was exiled to the House, when all of this had come to light, no one stomached even looking at her for the most part. The weight of that disgust is still heavy on her, like it'd been sewn into the tapestry of her life. ]
Yeah. Not like it's ever gonna go away. I dunno if I could respect someone who didn't.
[These scars are part of Giselle, but everything that caused them is the same. Keeping them hidden would be Giselle's choice, but in a way, it'd be denying who she was. There are things they both keep closely guarded for protection; that's not the kind of stuff that Odette cares about unearthing. But when it comes to showing her heart, Odette has neither the time nor the patience to watch her deny that.
Maybe it's hypocritical of her, someone as flippant and feral as she is, but it's not as if Odette has ever been anything other than earnestly what she is. Any commitments dodged, any discomfort she might have had about stagnating in her own weakness, have never forced her to play pretend. She clasps Giselle's hand firmly, aware she can feel the grip even if all of the other sensations are lost on her.]
C'mere. Now that you've shown me, I'll keep looking at you. [She keeps Giselle's hand in hers, then steps to the side, sitting on the lip of the bathtub again but facing the other way this time, feet dipped into the water.]
Kind of a tight squeeze. [It's...partially true. As far as bathtubs go, this one is a suite, fancy and roomy. A bathtub is still a bathtub, though, and two people will always be more cramped. Contact between them will be inevitable, even if Giselle keeps her back to her.] Is that cool?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
intimate bathing..... general cw for discussions of sexual assault in this thread probably
Before the hotel, her last shreds of hope that she would ever break free of the cycle of the House were beginning to wither and rot away, like so much else about her. Now though, in the is new life she's built for herself — traveling to other worlds, hand in hand with Odette, she feels lighter than she'd ever imagined she would again.
But no matter how much time passes, there are things she can simply never forget. Things that aren't meant to be forgotten, maybe... things she could, would bare to one of the people that's helped bring her back from the brink. Giselle can think of herself as pathetic at times — it's taken a lot of time an encouragement and coaxing for her to stand on her own two feet again, to really be Giselle, or at least a shadow of her once more. There's still one more obstacle in the way, though... one thing standing in the way of her feeling like she can be loved. Seen. Embraced by Odette.
It'll just take courage. Courage that she knows she can muster up — she's done this once before, she thinks. Long, long ago. The specifics are lost to her, but she remembers feeling like a dam had broken, once she'd had the strength to bear her scars, the defilement, the ugliness. It's not that she thinks Odette will turn her away, or look at her in disgust... she would've done that long before now, if her opinion were so shallow. She's nervous all the same, even if she's really longed to close this distance between them for so long.
Because this is more than just being about her. It's about Odette too, getting closer to her, embracing everything that she is. She's ready — just nervous.
She's sitting on the lip of the tub while it fills up, cozied up in a long fluffy robe despite being unable to feel the full extent of its warm comfort. The bath, too, is steaming hot as the water runs, the pleasant aroma of lavender and vanilla wafting through the humid air — but Giselle doesn't test the water herself, knowing doing so is futile. As ever, she's taken to the busywork of preparing the bath, more at ease when she has a job to do; she's good at this, besides, knowing the perfect scents to add without it becoming cloying. Ensuring there are the right soaps, towels, anything else they might need. Her long, raven hair is pulled over her shoulder, freed from its braid. ]
Allow me to adjust the temperature, if you find it unpleasant. [ Her head lifts, eyebrows furrowed a little helplessly, searching Odette's eyes. ] And thank you... for joining me.
[ It's likely that this was her suggestion after all — certainly peculiar, for as much as Giselle tends to shy away from physicality of any kind. But there can be no mistake: she wanted this. ]
no subject
Sure, Odette can't burn money the way she could while she was hopping around the world on a 12-week limit to live it up, but she's still figured out her ways to keep them living a fairly luxurious lifestyle. And when it comes to getting things for Giselle, it's the same. Even when it comes to things Giselle can't feel or taste, Odette makes sure there's no difference in what she gets. Everything about the bath, from the robe to the bath oils, is as fancy as they can handle.
Odette sits on the bathroom counter - leans against it, really, with her height - and watches the water stream into the tub, coils of heat rising from the surface.]
Why's that? You're the expert. Figure you got it set up just fine. [There's an innate, thoughtless trust in that, too -- the loose belief that Giselle will have it correct from the start.
She's also not a dumbass. For Giselle not just to accommodate but to suggest something like this means that something has to be up. Odette meets her gaze, her brow also creased with a thoughtful line. She doesn't question her decision or ask if she's sure about it; doing that would just be questioning what the girl wants. She's not here to do that.] It's no problem, missy. You don't gotta ask twice. You sure are something, though... making it all formal like this.
no subject
Perhaps that is just what I am used to... [ It's still hard for her to let go of her training, sometimes. She's getting better, but 600 years is a long time to be one way. Gently, she pats the lip of the tub next to her, beckoning Odette over silently. ] But I don't mean for this to be a formal affair. Rather, the opposite.
[ She trails off, closing her eyes briefly, brows knitted, as though straining against something. Let it never be said that Giselle does anything flippantly; while she carries out most of her day to day actions with grace, there's always intent behind her every blink and word, every movement of her hand. Here, too, there's visible effort going towards spilling each word — the only difference is that she's showing that effort rather than bury it. A sliver of her humanity wrenched back. ]
...I have something I must show you. [ The words have to be pushed out like a stubborn splinter, but she does it anyway, her ghostly heartbeat quickening. More shyly: ] If I'm to be at your side... I want you to see all of me. Else — I don't think I'll ever have the courage to be looked at.
[ She needs to intentionally show Odette the marks she bears, they're not things that can or should be seen in passing. After all this time, she's still too afraid to be perceived and judged in such a way. Only like this can she stomach it. ]
no subject
Even if Giselle says she doesn't want formal, she's still a little wrapped up in how she carries herself, isn't she? Being the maid has kept her at arm's length for centuries. If Odette didn't know that she was capable of being feisty, of pouting and talking back and being teasing, then she might be convinced that this is simply how her unusual out-of-time companion is.
With the same intention and control that defines any of her actions toward Giselle, Odette catches her beneath the chin with one finger, applying pressure gentle enough to tilt her face up into her palm, fingertips caressing at her jaw. Everything she does might seem flippant and with disregard, but she's equally as intentional--even if it's often in the other direction, cunning and calculated. In this, though, her purposes are comforting. Some say she can make others feel at ease so they won't feel her stabbing them in the back, but there's not really any sign of that in the deliberate and almost tender way she tries to steady Giselle with a touch that doesn't have to make her recoil.]
Sure thing. You want my attention? You've got it; undivided. [She doesn't give a shit, though not meanly. There's not much Giselle could show her that would change her mind, and that's what Odette wants her to understand.] Easier for you if I go first?
no subject
She doesn't trust her voice in this moment, so she simply nods once, brows turning up in a sort of helpless way. She's not quite smiling wryly, but it's almost there, the corner of her lip just barely curved up. Thank you, she wants to say, but the words get caught in her throat. Odette knows what to offer when she doesn't know what to ask sometimes — this is certainly like that, and she's grateful, even if she does feel a little pathetic, too. Not so pathetic that she won't accept what's been graciously offered to her. Her cold hand reaches out, closing loosely around Odette's wrist. Her thumb graces her pulse point, the draw of her fingers quietly affectionate.
Her companion doesn't quite need the coaxing and same support that she does, she knows. But everyone needs someone who could see them at their barest, their rawest, and not turn away, she thinks. There's a lack of judgment, or even curiosity in her eyes — there's only acceptance, solid and firm like an oak. Though she can't feel the same level of certainty about herself, she can feel it towards Odette. Maybe through feeling that, she might come to understand how Odette might feel about her in this moment. ]
no subject
Odette doesn't exactly dress modestly, so Giselle's seen most of what she has on offer. She's built like a wall of muscle, but echoes of her past are etched on her skin, scars bored into her forearms and stomach. Most of her damage is on the inside, though. That's where the really fucked up stuff lingers. It's the stuff that no amount of muscle can cover up and no amount of fighting can beat.
She can't deny that this is a lot more exposing and vulnerable than if she'd been undressing flirtatiously. There's no playful nudging and no teasing words to lighten things. It's the kind of intimacy that makes Odette feel just a little bit itchy. It'd be easier, actually, if this were merely for sex. She inhales deeply, then lets the breath out in a heavy sigh as she ruffles a hand through her hair.]
'Kay then. Can I take your robe?
cw for sexual and physical abuse
At the question, though, she hesitates, slowly drawing the string around her waist. It loosens, the fabric opening slightly and showing the swell of her cleavage. Giselle's about the opposite when it comes to showing skin: in her maid's apparel, all that was visible were her hands and face. Even after discarding it, She never shows her chest or legs — is adamant about it, really.
The scars he left were always above a certain point, so that they couldn't be glimpsed if she wore a full skirt. As such, even Giselle's nightgowns are long, and she wears high socks underneath, absolutely avoiding letting Odette catch even a glimpse of it. She's a perceptive person, and must have noticed this was all being done pointedly and intentionally after some time free from her uniform. It's those efforts that's making it hard for her to comply with the question, but with a shuddering breath, she unties the knot fully, gripping the lip of the tub with one hand to steady herself. As she stands, she's trembling.
The reason why becomes clear enough as the robe opens with her straightening — even without it fully being off or completely baring the map of her skin, the history of violence is extensive. The last time she'd bore these marks to someone else, she'd explained that every method of harm that man could think of, he had tried on her. She's been whipped, beaten, burned, cut up, had skin peeled away.... and the places that aren't marked from the waist down are few and far between. The higher up the scars are, the more severe the wounds left seemed to have been: her ghostly nature has frozen all these scars in time, but their existence at all is enough to put together that they come from a time when she was still alive.
Though the backs of her thighs are still covered by the robe, it can only be assumed it's much the same on the other side. The history is laid bare without her saying anything: these aren't wounds that were made after one or two encounters. But over dozens and dozens of abuses. Worst of all of them, perhaps, is a deeply carved word on the inside of her right thigh, not far down from her sex, 'HARLOT' in an archaic script.
She can't lift her head from the shame. All these years... and the feelings of disgust still come back, disgust at what had been done, and at her own body. Her curse means that she'll never be free of this. She can't help herself; tears run cold from her eyes, even as she valiantly tries to control her expression, expending every ounce of effort to keep a stiff upper lip. Maybe it's a good thing, that she can't close herself off so easily anymore. At the same time, her heart races, feeling humiliated and filled with adrenaline all at the same time.
But this is something she needs to do. She can remember, vaguely, coming to this conclusion before: that she'd never be able to feel truly loved until her partner had seen all of her. Though the tears drip from her face, she doesn't make a sound, not quite accepting Odette's offer to take her garment. She's a little too.... sensitive, doesn't know how she might feel being undressed by a hand that's not her own while showing this. That, too, she feels guilty for. ]
I'm sorry, [ She murmurs, extracting herself from the sleeves, with all the tenseness of someone pulling out their own tooth. Perhaps it's a testament to the strength of her will, that she continues on doing something that's causing her so much visible distress. But Giselle is stubborn, she's always been stubborn, and she won't go back on her word, even if it feels as though she's debasing herself. This was her decision, to share this with Odette. Like an olive branch, and a way to keep this heavy moment moving, she offers the robe to Odette with a shaking hand, turning her head towards the bath. It's almost full. ] I need a moment.
[ Before she can speak clearly again. She keeps her eyes low, too anxious to look at Odette's face, afraid of what she might see there. Instead, she turns half to her side to shut the water off, her long hair obscuring some of her form as she does so. ]
no subject
Giselle is beautiful, especially when her face fully reveals her emotions (it should be pathetic to cry so easily over kitten videos, but when she sees Giselle doing it, it's offensively cute), but she won't insult her by saying those scars are anything but an ugly violation of her body. It'd insult her real beauty to think or claim otherwise.
She wonders if Giselle ever broke the way that she had. Any of the ways that she had. It's difficult to imagine her letting vengeance get the better of her...and the truth is, even if she had, it wasn't like it'd make anything better in the end.
She accepts the robe when it's handed to her, but Odette doesn't seem all that interested in the apology. It's just unnecessary. This was what she meant, anyway - taking the garment from Giselle once she'd finished undressing. She knows better than to put her hands on her, especially when she's revealing this raw side of her, one that Odette already knows has to have been wrought by someone else.]
What're you sorry for? You're doing good.
[There are hooks for hanging them, but Odette folds the robes up instead and leaves them somewhere within arms' reach of the tub. She's no Giselle, but she is surprisingly fastidious, neat in her own living space, even though her personality would suggest none of that tidiness. This time, however, it seems smarter to leave them where Giselle can quickly get her hands back on them. As she puts them up, Odette shakes her head.]
Bordel de merde. [She tsks beneath her breath, unable to remain completely free of disgust. None of it is for Giselle.] They'll really do whatever they can to take whatever they can from you. Lemme get you a tissue. Wipe your own eyes when you're ready. [When she offers it, the eye contact is there, too, waiting for when Giselle is ready to raise her eyes.]
no subject
She can't quite say thank you just yet, but it's appreciated. Her face falters a bit more, now with something to dab at her tears with in hand — and with Odette's kindness sticking to her like a burr. For a stretch of time, the only sound is Giselle's gentle taps at her own face. Eventually, with shaking breath: ]
A long time ago, I remember thinking that there would be a wall between myself and someone else, if they never...
[ Saw this. She'd never be able to fully believe that they loved her, loved her in spite of all this tarnishing. ]
That's why I... wanted to show you. [ Will Odette understand that? Painful as this is, Giselle sees this as a necessary step to become closer. Absolutely necessary, in her opinion. A part of her wonders if she's burdening her, or making herself seem miserable and pitiful, neither of which she wants to do — but her decision is still firm. She folds her arms to obscure her chest, not bothering with covering one or two of her many scars. ] I know it's unsightly...
[ The words aren't even particularly self-deprecating: it's just fact. And more than that, none of this can never be erased, cursed to mar her for eternity. Giselle lets out a breath, trying to calm herself. ]
But I hope you'll understand my heart. I don't want to feel like... I have to hide this from you...
[ Or anything, really. Doing so only makes her feel less desirable. Only then does she lift her head to meet her eyes, openly vulnerable, and seeming much younger than her storied, wise persona she wore so often at the hotel. Very tentatively, she holds a hand out to her, palm up, wondering if she still might reach out, still might touch her, in light of all this. When she was exiled to the House, when all of this had come to light, no one stomached even looking at her for the most part. The weight of that disgust is still heavy on her, like it'd been sewn into the tapestry of her life. ]
no subject
[These scars are part of Giselle, but everything that caused them is the same. Keeping them hidden would be Giselle's choice, but in a way, it'd be denying who she was. There are things they both keep closely guarded for protection; that's not the kind of stuff that Odette cares about unearthing. But when it comes to showing her heart, Odette has neither the time nor the patience to watch her deny that.
Maybe it's hypocritical of her, someone as flippant and feral as she is, but it's not as if Odette has ever been anything other than earnestly what she is. Any commitments dodged, any discomfort she might have had about stagnating in her own weakness, have never forced her to play pretend. She clasps Giselle's hand firmly, aware she can feel the grip even if all of the other sensations are lost on her.]
C'mere. Now that you've shown me, I'll keep looking at you. [She keeps Giselle's hand in hers, then steps to the side, sitting on the lip of the bathtub again but facing the other way this time, feet dipped into the water.]
Kind of a tight squeeze. [It's...partially true. As far as bathtubs go, this one is a suite, fancy and roomy. A bathtub is still a bathtub, though, and two people will always be more cramped. Contact between them will be inevitable, even if Giselle keeps her back to her.] Is that cool?