[ 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?
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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?