{APRIL EVENT} The devil wears high heels

[cerasri]

Lips down turning as he stared at the window across from him, taking in the faded image of his reflection, Xerxes eyes narrowed in an uncharacteristic wince that quickly morphed into a more characteristic glare that was two parts calculating and one part intrigued. Why?

Well, it wasn’t everyday one found themselves a woman when for quite a while, they had been biologically a man.

Eyes straying towards the rather voluminous bust present where there had once been nothing but a flat (and rather toned) chest, Xerxes lips twitched. At the very least, he wasn’t ugly. Though his height had seemed to decrease, and his hair had grown of its own accord (not to mention the rather frightening lack of a ‘package’ in his nether regions), he couldn’t help but see this as an opportunity.

After all women had certain things men didn’t. And those things well, most men had a hard time looking away from them.

Oh yes. He could definitely use this-besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t know who to blame. Those scientists in Silverhollow were already spluttering out their apologies- flitting about and making an all-out ruckus of themselves as they spouted out random dates of when they’d have this particular ‘problem’ fixed. Though they had first said the seventh, Xerxes had heard rumors that it would be the 20th before they’d finally get this little inconvenience fixed. In truth, Xerxes was fairly sure that some of the scientists were quite enjoying their changed gender and were ‘investigating’ their new bodies-for purely scientific reasons of course.

Lips curling, Xerxes sighed before he stared at his…er…her outfit, eyeing the collar of her shirt idly. Though he normally kept it buttoned up to his neck, well, if she was given assets she might as well use them, no? Unfastening a few of the buttons and loosening the belt that kept her coat cinched about her waist, Xerxes mouth twisted into a smug smile, eyes drawing down the vestiges of cleavage that managed to peak through.

Yes-this would do quite nicely. Fixing the collar of her shirt once more, Xerxes gave one last parting glance towards her reflection in the mirror before she stepped way, rather proud of her current appearance before she moved towards the bar she had been ready to enter, mouth spread wide in a smile that could have sent a shiver down even the devil’s spine.

Oh yes. Those men would never know what hit them.

---

ooc: Oh god. You don't know how weird it was to write she instead of he for the last few paragraphs XD But anywho, enjoy fem!Xerxes! Somehow, I think he's scarier as a woman '

[Schwarzen*Adler]

Waking up without his usual burst of energy, the blonde orphan cringed-- his battered body quivering softly from the touch of the cold. Blue eyes flickered open helplessly as the blur that fogged along the boy's vision began to slowly clear away; from a world behind a frosted window, the outline of figures began to grow more and more prominent. Lines became crisper and crisper as colours grew stronger and stronger; slowly his perception of hues and shades began to resurface as his eyes began to adjust from the darkness of the night to the light of the morning sky. 

It was a routine experience, one he had once feared and loathed upon every seemingly endless occurrence. He would cry and squirm, fists launching in every direction-- courage and bravery destroyed under pure agony and fear. It had been... his moment of weakness-- the moment he refused to let his brother see of him for sake of not only his image as a hero but also his pride as the older brother. He always felt sick in the stomach during (and even a short while after) every one of those ordeals, shifting from small sensations of nausea to the strong urge to vomit everything he had eaten for the past week onto himself. But as time grew on, the boy had begun to grow used to it. 

Still, nothing he had ever experienced before could compare to the pure agony that he  would go through on that seemingly average dawn.

Bright, golden sunlight poured into the room, tinting the windowsill in a white spotlight, as a bird settled gingerly upon its ledge. Ruffling its feathers in a quick motion, the little bird squinted; and as a cool breeze swept along its tiny wings, causing it to shriver slightly in its place, the tiny creature burst out into an airy song. 

Strangely enough though, Alphred found himself unable to care less.
At that moment, all he wanted to do was doze off and go back to sleep.

The back of his neck ached  to the point that he thought that it was going to split apart; the comfort and compress of the tattered blanket that draped across his flesh seemed evermore lacking, even in comparison to how it had been before (which was, in the simplest of terms, barely sufficient.) His legs felt cramped and painful, as if a sharp spark had pulsed through them and zapped them inside out. Moving them slightly underneath the covers, the blonde gritted his teeth. The ache was...excruciating!  It was as if his legs were being forcibly stretched-- every added inch leading to another burst of pure pain. 

" Errr...." the young boy mumbled, his voice lower than he remembered " I want.... five more minutes...." Clawing at the sides of his worn bed, he found himself actually having to push himself up from the rockhard mattress that lay underneath. His arms twitched and stiffened at the increasing pressure that pressed down his body

Any moment, he felt that his body could just crash and give in to its exhaustion. 

As dusty blonde hair draped messily across his face, the boy's lips slipped into a frown. His hands couldn't clutch at small metals bars located on the side anymore. They seemed to have grown... bigger? And his body.... it felt like he was being stuffed and forced inside the bed. Had it...grown as well? B-but no, that wasn't possible. Only the night before, he had managed to fit snuggly inside. Though the bed itself was hard, it was definitely far from tiny or compact.  The orphanage's supplied  beds had always been big enough to fit a young child or two, if only to save on the repairs and costs of buying new ones. So he shouldn't have felt so tight inside.... even in the scenario that he had grown. Besides, it shouldn't have been so rapidly; right? No one could grow so much in the span of one day. 

" Da-Dammit...!"
Falling with a heavy crash onto the cold, smooth, surface of the wooden floor, the blonde gritted his teeth. Laid sprawled out and face flat across the floor, the orphan couldn't help but scowl at the absolute...indescribableness... his morning had become. He didn't like how it had begun, not one bit; and there was no way he was letting it continue that way any longer. As he lifted himself off the ground and made his way to the bathroom, the orphan clutched at his head. 

Was it just him or had everything grown smaller?

-------

Stepping back with a start, Alphred felt a gasp catch in hit throat. In front of him stood a dusty blonde man at about his early twenties. His body was somewhat muscular, though not anything majorly great. (It wasn't like those cool superheroes or anythin') But, he did seem well enough to take care of himself from the looks of it, so that wasn't too bad. His features were boyish and masculine, with a rough and rowdy quality to them; his skin contained a slight tan that made Matt look like he was made of paper. Sticking close to his flesh was a cotton shirt, almost reminiscent of the over-sized one that Al always wore to sleep at night.

Complementing the blue eyes twinkling mischievously at him, an impish smile completed the young man's overall appearance. 

" Ah," the orphan laughed as he recovered, the sound low and unnatural to him, " Sorry, sir. I didn't see you there." Clearing his throat, the orphan gave a small cough. His voice sounded really weird.... didn't it? Maybe he was coming down with something. Noticing the stranger copy the same soundless motion, the blonde boy pouted.

 Was he teasing him? 

" Sir? Why are you copying me?" Cocking his head slightly to the side, Alphred watched as the stranger did the same. 

God.... As if this day wasn't bad enough already.

"Wait...."
"Isn't that....?"
"Isn't that a mirror?"

Eyes widening in shock, the orphan stiffened.  Mouth dry and body trembling, he placed an unstable hand to his face. Against the flesh of his face his skin was... rough, as if it had been worn and torn through many trials and adventures, and bigger . Its warmth felt so familiar but at the same alien; something he was so used to but at the same time afraid of. 

Allowing his hand to pass to his shoulders, the boy frowned. 
It seemed... broader and wider, like the ones that the adults had.

But.... he was just a kid.
Wasn't he?

"What on earth...?" 
Watching as the stranger copied his exact movements once again, the blonde boy--err.... young adult--blinked.

" This could be....." the young man smiled, a smirk slipping across his new sleek, boyish features, "fun."

--------

After raiding the donations box nice and long for a good set of pants ( his old ones rode up his ass more than what was comfortable) and a new shirt, the young man grinned. As he scanned himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel a bit of pride. " Hey, I don't look so bad," Alphred chirped, grabbing his formerly loose bomberjacket " Y'know, I think I could get used to this. "

It would be a new adventure, y'know, bein' an adult and all. 
He got his chance when he appeared to have aged in the span of a night, 
and he was plannin' on lavishin' in the fruits of the situation.

Sure, he didn't know what caused it, but he might as well use what happened to his advantage.

" Ah! Wait," he mumbled, brows furrowing as a realization struck him, " If I'm older now, does that mean that Matt's older too?" Grinning as the thought of an older, manlier looking Matthew flashed into mind, the young man chuckled. 

He'd definitely want to see how that turned out.

So running to his brother's bedside, the orphan began to try and shake Matt awake enthusiastically. 

-----------
-----------
-----------

Brushing aside 'her' new, choppy, shoulder length, and layered hair, Chris chuckled. 

Well, wasn't this an unexpected turn of events.

As she lounged lazily on her seat, the Briton couldn't help but suppress a  yawn. Every word that those other Silverhollow scientist were saying? Absolute bullocks. Everyone and their mother knew that they were loving every moment of it, experimenting on their bodies and fiddling upstairs for the sole reason that no other woman would ever give them the chance. Yes, they gave the masses an answer to soothe their panicked, little egos; they told them what they wanted to hear for the purpose of not having mobs and riots outside their door at every ticking minute. But really, many of the others probably didn't even want what had happened to end. They were having too much of a kicking good time playing with themselves and observing the effect of gravity on cleavage.

Now personally if you asked him--her-- about what was going on, she wouldn't have sweetened it up. She'd have went all out and claimed that the only people actually trying to help were too incompetent to do anything. The  people who could do something? Well, they were too bloody lazy to actually give a damn about anyone outside of their little secluded circle. Because good lord, god knows how many naked women they'd been able to see outside of photographs in their lifetimes. 

One truly couldn't blame them though as anyone with eyes could see that majority of the scientists in Silverhollow were probably so far into the closet that they were frolicking in the snowy fields of Narnia.

-----------
"Christopher James Griffith."
" There's no need to sound like my mum there, mate. Besides, don't abuse the name. I still want it hot when you scream it."

Throwing the Briton a quick scowl, Noah frowned. " Chris, there's something I need to tell you and it's very, very important."

"If it's a marriage proposal, bub, then you're off to a bad start." the Briton drawled, " I've received better ones from drunk Irishfolk."

" Chris, this is really important. I'm serious here.
And will you stop doing that while I'm talking to you. It's gross."

" But, lad, nothing says 'master' like mastur-"

"Never mind," she frowned, " I don't want to hear it. 
Now, listen to me. 
People are going crazy in more than just this sector. They don't know how long this is going to last or how we're going to fix it. They want something more than just an answer, Chris, and they're not afraid to fight for one. At this rate, the house will be burned down before the day even ends.

The scientists working on a solution are literally going mad. They don't understand what went wrong or how we can find a way to help. I know you don't give a shit about this place, but we could use your help.

 Actually at this rate, we need all the help we can get."

Flashing an amused look at her companion, the Briton smirked. " And what makes you sure that I can or even will help? Shouldn't the ones responsible accept the blame they deserve?"

" That's the thing, Chris, I'm not sure.
We can beg other people to assist but, your participation would help speed up the process of finding an answer to our little... "

"Sex-change issue?" the Briton grinned condescendingly, " Yes, lad, I know. But right now, I'd rather go to the pub and slack off a bit. No offense meant towards you or your little house, but I can't actually (like you said) give a damn about you or your nobility. Maybe if I have some extra time, I'll do my part. But it's not required, and you know how I feel about overtime or charity works."

Holding back the urge to hit the arrogant Briton, Noah gritted her teeth. " You bastard," she snapped, "Weren't you brought here to help us out? To assist us whenever necessary? "

"No," the Briton said simply, " I was assigned here to connect  our lands together; not to be Silverhollow's  personal babysitter. Now calm down, mate, don't unleash your hysteria ( or PMS angst) onto me. Let's just head over to the pub and take a few shots."

"You know what?" Noah yelled suddenly, an exasperated smile smearing across her face, " forget you! I'm going back to the manor and helping them out. Go get drunk and die from overdose for all I care! 

Forget that I actually gave a shit about you! 
Forget that I actually gave you a chance when the others said you were an unbearable ass!
Forget that I believed you weren't all bad! 

I was wrong.... 
Y- You're"

Pausing as Chris held her hand up in a subtle way of saying "shut it, twat"', Noah frowned.

" Look," the Briton smirked slyly, lifting her companion's chin up with a finger,  " Cool it. It's the hormones getting to you. 

Now.
I might help you after I finish business in the pub, so calm down. If you're all so incompetent, I might as well do something about it to ensure that you don't spread this little problem to England. Just take a chill pill and relax a bit. 

You're making even me feel uptight. "

Leaning in closely, the Briton purred.

"But if you'd like, maybe we can do something special tonight to fix that--just you, me, and no one but the walls to report a crime. I'll take you higher than you've ever gone."

Pushing Chris away, Noah glared darkly  at the arrogant British....woman.

 " You're horrible." she muttered, turning away, " Come back and talk to me when you've grown some decency."

Shrugging nonchalantly, the Briton sighed. " Suit yourself. Have fun watching the others screw around-literally." 

Heading towards the pub/bar, the woman grinned.

She was going to have fun on that night, with or without her little killjoy companion.
And nothing was going to stop her.

[cerasri]

Turning a sultry smile towards the rather disgruntled looking child behind the bar, Xerxes drew her fingers along the wooden counter, all too aware of the rather appreciative looks this pose was getting her. Body stretched across the barstool as if it were a queen’s chair and lounging across the counter with feline grace while still managing to bare the skin of her arms and the long line of her legs- she’d have been insulted if people didn’t look at her. That was after all, why she was doing this pose to begin with.

Really, it was quite amusing how men-some even transformed into women themselves-tended to get transfixed at even the slightest hint of bare skin. A well placed stretch could get them panting harder than dogs after a race, and to tell the truth, this was almost ridiculously easy. It almost made Xerxes want to stay a woman-almost.

While she did enjoy the extra perks where information was concerned, there were some things that Xerxes was fairly sure she never wanted to experience. A woman’s monthly was one of those.

Raising a hand to call for a fine glass of rum and smiling languidly as the newly de-aged barhop brought over a glass and then some, all the while refusing to take his eyes away from Xerxes’ bust, the metal-man…er woman, tipped the cup back slightly, lips curling as the burning liquid hit the back of her throat.

Replacing the barely drained glass back onto the wooden counter, Xerxes allowed her eyes to scan the bar, taking in each of the tavern’s occupants. Most didn’t seem to be too interesting- and from the slack-jawed gaze on the majority of the patrons’ faces, he wouldn’t be getting much more information tonight.

Taking another draught from his glass, this one longer than the last, Xerxes narrowed her eyes. That left what else to do…

Furrowed gaze staring at the grainy countertop with an almost bored expression, the metal-woman sighed before she shrugged. Well, it had been quite a while since she’d allowed herself a night off. And who knew, perhaps someone more interesting would come in.

Gaze straying to the door for a brief second, the Xerxes brow arched before the smile on her lips became a bit more inquisitive. Oh yes.

Someone like this.

Though the gender was switched, it was fairly easy to ascertain who this particular individual was.

Because really, there were only so many Brits in the city.

Oh yes- this night would turn out more interesting indeed.

---

ooc: I kinda assumed that Chris was walking into the bar- so if not, err my bad XD

[Schwarzen*Adler]

“Are you Christopher Griffith? That Silverhollow scientist responsible for this mess?”

“ No, lad, I am not. Anyone with a brain could tell that ‘Christopher’ is a masculine name though I suppose yours could have suffocated from lack of use.”

“But you’re British!”

“And since when did Great Britain have a population of one? What did you think it was? Sealand?”

“W-Will this have any long lasting effect on our bodies?” a customer whispered softly, glancing warily around to make sure no one heard. Probably the fifth one since the Brit had entered the bloody pub (though he—she-- had lost track after the third).

Feeling a vein tick in her jaw, the Briton smiled (a tad too sadistically for comfort, but I digress). “Of course.” she drawled, allowing her voice to ring as loudly as possible. Because really, she had to make sure that anyone not totally pissed out of their minds would hear her.

(They probably couldn’t remember the number of fingers they had, let alone something as ‘drastic’ and ‘life-altering’ as that. )

“Any previous vital (and masculine) region of yours (such as your balls) will fall off from lack of use. Sure, you won’t be able to have as much of a hot, steamy time as you get your leg over that barmaid, but don’t worry though, lad, we can sew them back on.”

Rolling his…her… eyes as she approached the bar counter, Chris plopped down on the seat.

God have mercy, on anyone else that asked her about the bloody incident…

“Fill it, luv, I’m planning on getting completely pissed by the end of the night.” she said, flashing a cheeky grin, “ And something about you looks different. Did you do something with your hair, face, and body? Quite fitting.”

Leaning back in her chair, the Briton flashed a glance at the hot, fit bird beside her. Now, he was never one to judge a person by their alcohol intake (bullocks) but she had hardly touched hers. What a peculiar woman that was, he thought to himself, for who in their right state of mind could resist the god-sent miracle known as ‘the beverage that could make you see Jesus, Buddha, Mohammad, Vishnu, God, and Charlie Sheen sitting by the door holding a frat boy party when you drank enough of it.’

“Mmm…” she snickered, aiming the question at the almost monarchial-like figure sitting beside her “ Let’s just get this out of the way to prevent any awkward, future conversations.

Are you male, female, or somewhere in between? “

Cocking an eyebrow, she smirked. “You’re not throwing yourself at the feet of every being with a packet*, meant in both definitions of the term, nor are you ‘getting it on’ with anything that moves or breathes. Any bird with a brain should be able to sense all the hungry looks being thrown at her.

Because after all, luv, they’re just eating you up; thinking to themselves “My, that’s a fine, fine woman right there. A normal woman would either be scared out her wits or lavishing in the stares of the starved. With such an air of majesty, almost like a lioness, maybe that could be changed? “

And these folk… Well, they’ve never been known for subtlety.
You know, you could get rich fast with that body of yours. Just a glance and you probably harden all the men’s plonkers to the heaviness of that ol’ Mt. Rushmore in an instant. Maybe even get a few old, rich ladies here and there as well. Seeing that you’ve yet to and are not abusing that little gift (If you were, you wouldn’t be sitting here; would you? You’d be giving blowjobs to all the lads in the pub, least’ that’s what I think.), I’ll conclude that you’re not a whore or a ladybird.

Mmmm… I’ll even take a guess and say you were a man?

Though what kind of man can’t even take more than one glass of liquor is beyond me. ”


Turning his attention back to her drink, Chris chuckled.
"Well?"

---
S/He was xD Sorry, I should have made that clearer.

[cerasri]

Watching with growing interest as the Brit entered the bar (really, it almost sounded like a bad joke), Xerxes nursed her glass, swirling the amber liquid with slight amusement as the obviously aggravated man turned woman ‘consoled’ the many needy costumers already in the bar.

Apparently, there were a few downsides to being a scientist. Xerxes snorted. Who knew.

Lips curling as she raised the glass to her lips, red eyes followed the woman’s movements, narrowing slightly in interest as the bedraggled looking scientist finally ‘soothed the worries’ of her latest concerned victim and plopped down upon the seat.

Well….that had been over with quickly. Pity- he’d…she’d been expecting more of a scene.

Looking away with little more than a shrug of disappointment, Xerxes directed her attention back towards her drink, vaguely aware of the woman ordering a drink of her own.

Content with basking in the near silence of the bar (funny how things could die down once one’s manhood was called into question if the traumatized looks on some of the patron’s faces were any indication) , the metal-man turned metal-woman found herself raising a brow in interest as a snicker hit her ears.

“Mmm…. Let’s just get this out of the way to prevent any awkward, future conversations.

Are you male, female, or somewhere in between?”

Staying quiet as the woman cocked a brow and smirked, Xerxes merely gave a smug smile of his own, content to let the woman continue talking, of which the other seemed all to happy to comply. “You’re not throwing yourself at the feet of every being with a packet*, meant in both definitions of the term, nor are you ‘getting it on’ with anything that moves or breathes. Any bird with a brain should be able to sense all the hungry looks being thrown at her.

Because after all, luv, they’re just eating you up; thinking to themselves “My, that’s a fine, fine woman right there. A normal woman would either be scared out her wits or lavishing in the stares of the starved. With such an air of majesty, almost like a lioness, maybe that could be changed? “

And these folk… Well, they’ve never been known for subtlety.

You know, you could get rich fast with that body of yours. Just a glance and you probably harden all the men’s plonkers to the heaviness of that ol’ Mt. Rushmore in an instant. Maybe even get a few old, rich ladies here and there as well. Seeing that you’ve yet to and are not abusing that little gift (If you were, you wouldn’t be sitting here; would you? You’d be giving blowjobs to all the lads in the pub, least’ that’s what I think.), I’ll conclude that you’re not a whore or a ladybird.

Mmmm… I’ll even take a guess and say you were a man?

Though what kind of man can’t even take more than one glass of liquor is beyond me. Well?”

Smug, almost proud expression still plastered on her face even as the Brit turned her attention back to her drink, Xerxes paused for impact before she shrugged, shoulders rolling back in a smooth movement guaranteed to draw a few eyes as her lips curled further. Moving one delicate finger to draw along the lip of her glass, the metal-man leaned forward, smug smile turning positively demure.

“Well now,” she purred, “You’re quite the talker now aren’t you? So many questions…and aren’t you luck that I seem to have the time to answer them?”

Mouth curling as she moved the finger tracing her glass to tap at her lips, Xerxes head tilted. “To the first …as I’m not a young strapping lad nor a old fogey bent at the back I find myself to be of the female inclination at the moment. And well, I’m sure that can answer most of your questions, hmm?

Then again, I could simply be wonderfully unaffected by the little problem hitting the city-an unfortunate side effect to being a metal-man. What a turn that would be, eh?

As for not throwing my feet at every panting man dying for a shag, well,” Xerxes eyes narrowed and he glanced around the bar before his mouth tilted once more, cherry red lips curled into a smug smile. “…perhaps I’ve just got the dignity not to act like a common whore no? Or then again…perhaps it’s the fact that men seem to enjoy it when they’ve got to work for something.

After all…which would you rather pay more for…the loose whore opening her legs for a pretty penny or the house mother at the brothel renowned for her…abilities….for those such inclined provided that they can pay the price?” Moving to take another sip from her glass and enjoying the slow burn of the alcohol sliding down her throat, Xerxes shrugged in that self-same smooth movement.

“Ah, but I’m afraid you’re correct. I am no whore…nor am I a ladybird. No-my interests lie more in the terms of…..knowing things, you could say. After all-information can give things that even the pleasures of the flesh can’t.

So yes. I’m rather afraid I was a man. Though I’m not going to complain about this new form-after all, there are wonderful benefits to being a woman, wouldn’t you agree?” Eyes positively devilish, Xerxes shrugged again. “…as for not taking more than one glass of liquor, well…” Xerxes arched a brow before he ran his eyes across the brit’s frame, expression both bored and amused.

“…perhaps the real question should be what kind of many drinks all his liquor in one go rather than savoring the flavor itself? True lovers of alcohol after all, would prefer to slowly take theirs in and savor ever last drop, no? Besides,” Xerxes all but purred, giving a pointed glance towards the other still somewhat shell-shocked patrons, “You’d be amazed at what you’ll learn when you just watch and listen rather than just chug in one go. Not mention,” Xerxes drawled, gaze straying back towards the Brit with a sly smile “I’ve heard consuming one’s alcohol too fast can lead to a shriveling of one's unmentionables…but…you wouldn’t know about that, now would you?”

[Schwarzen*Adler]

“Well now, you’re quite the talker now aren’t you? So many questions…and aren’t you luck that I seem to have the time to answer them?”

"Hmm...?" Chris smirked, placing a finger over the tip of the glass," Someone has to start the conversation; and wouldn't it be a bloody shame to talk about the weather with the 'royal highness'? Bore her, and she might throw me to the gators."

"Besides," the Briton said, leaning back comfortably in his seat, " I'll admit I like the attention-- always been more of a performer than a pacifist, I have-- and the glares I'm getting from those jealous lads back there? Perfect. Next, they'll go running home to shag their mistresses, or misters in their case, and boil with envy as they gripe that they didn't get a chance to hit that. You on the other hand, get to benefit from asking anything you want from me; and the sooner I get completely wasted, the quicker you'll be able to get anything you want out of me. 

Though I'm guessing you already know that.
But after all, aren't the ones who talk the most also the ones who bluff the most.
So I wonder how much of the things I'll say, sober or not, will be truths."

“To the first …as I’m not a young strapping lad nor a old fogey bent at the back I find myself to be of the female inclination at the moment. And well, I’m sure that can answer most of your questions, hmm? 

Then again, I could simply be wonderfully unaffected by the little problem hitting the city-an unfortunate side effect to being a metal-man. What a turn that would be, eh?

As for not throwing my feet at every panting man dying for a shag, well,
…perhaps I’ve just got the dignity not to act like a common whore no? Or then again…perhaps it’s the fact that men seem to enjoy it when they’ve got to work for something.  After all…which would you rather pay more for…the loose whore opening her legs for a pretty penny or the house mother at the brothel renowned for her…abilities….for those such inclined provided that they can pay the price?” 

“Ah, but I’m afraid you’re correct. I am no whore…nor am I a ladybird. No-my interests lie more in the terms of…..knowing things, you could say. After all-information can give things that even the pleasures of the flesh can’t. 

So yes. I’m rather afraid I was a man. Though I’m not going to complain about this new form-after all, there are wonderful benefits to being a woman, wouldn’t you agree?

…as for not taking more than one glass of liquor, well…”

…perhaps the real question should be what kind of man drinks all his liquor in one go rather than savoring the flavor itself? True lovers of alcohol after all, would prefer to slowly take theirs in and savor ever last drop, no? Besides,  You’d be amazed at what you’ll learn when you just watch and listen rather than just chug in one go. Not mention, I’ve heard consuming one’s alcohol too fast can lead to a shriveling of one's unmentionables…but…you wouldn’t know about that, now would you?”

"Pot calling the kettle black; and you said I was the talker."
Glancing at the woman  out of the side of his eye, Chris smiled. The woman was a temptress--a right fine one, he'd give her that. She had the beauty of a fox, but the deadly precision of a snake; her actions seemed to be slow and thought out, subtle enough to keep one guessing.

"Such a precarious situation, I've found myself in, " [/i]the Briton mused aloud, " it appears that I'm dealing with the devil tonight.

Still... This will be an interesting night indeed for me," he smirked as he turned to face the woman, his tone edged with playful teasing, "I may not agree with all those idiots in Silverhollow, but they do have a point with one thing."

"Knowledge is power; you can build a whole kingdom out of foolish rumours  and lies if you can convince the illiterate and naive mass that they are true;  you can reign over all if you can convince them that you know best; but can one  strategically placed, or even on mere coincidence, false piece of information be the end of you? The only time you'll find out is if you watch someone else crash; or happen to be the unlucky one who crashed himself."

Eyes shifting to  back to his glass, the Briton smiled mischievously. Raising the now empty glass, he continued. "Information can be likened to the strongest and finest of alcohol; as soon as you get drunk on it, you feel that nothing can harm or hurt you. You are invincible to man, demon, or divine alike; you are suddenly the master of a world of nameless pawns. You rule all; you control all. But as soon as you get out of that pub, the minute you put down the glass and leave the room..." Dropping the glass and watching it break, the Briton smirked.

" Your life may shatter as easily as this; and you may find yourself at the wrong side of the street. There, one of those nameless pawns may have you at gun point, or if luck doesn't favor you, be the one to leave you on the ground bleeding and forgotten. A single misinformation, a brief moment of drunken delusion, and you may find the hard way that no amount of  the bulletproof armor you wear on your body can help you if your attacker shoots you in the back of the head."

Shifting his attention  to the former waitress-though now waiter-  who cleaned up the mess, the Briton aimed a strong kick at poor chap's.... happy zone. As the waiter shot a dark look at the Briton, Chris nonchalantly dropped a silver coin in front of his face. " So how can you really say," he smiled, " whose information to trust? If a stranger feels like it, he  can hurt out of the sole reason that he merely felt like doing it. Humanity doesn't consist of angels, sparkles, and rainbow, luv; there are people who are arses just for the reason that they want to be. They don't have to explain themselves; they can't explain themselves. But is being an arse for defense? Is it a facade? Or is it natural?

Can we say that we truly know what's real or not in a world where even the most honest of people lies when he says he does not lie? Or when the 'evil, heartless criminal' is honest in his trial? To label people as trustworthy and not is the equivalent of seeing people in black and white; there is neither.

There is only gray.
No man or woman has committed no mistake or fault.

There are only those who acknowledge their faults, and those too caught up in others to see their own glaring directly right at them.

Those in denial are always the most entertaining to watch, as well as the most overly dramatic at their death bed. The loved hero will only be useful until he falls. The world, as such, will always be on the look out for the time when he does; some out of envy, other because it serves as entertainment. As soon as the 'just' one makes a wrong decision; well, there's nowhere to go but down. From the celebrated honour of the land, he becomes nothing but a nuisance. The one who tries to please,  will soon find out how selfish humanity truly is; as soon as they see 'kindness', people naturally flatter and grin for the possibility of being able to abuse the idiot's naivety later.

The world is not fair, and those who think otherwise or deny will be the hardest hit when they crash.
Still, everyone loves a good sob story about the unfortunate 'martyr'."

" And on the note of that 'unmentionables' as you referred to them, with 'competition' such as these," he snickers, motioning at the helpless, lovesick puppies still entranced by the metal (wo)man, " even if I drank all the alcohol in the world, I'd still be more endowed than these barmpots. Besides, only those in dire need to compensate will need to bring that up."

 

[cerasri]

"Pot calling the kettle black; and you said I was the talker."

“Well...I never did say I wasn’t much of a talker myself, now did I?” Raising her glass to her lips with a half hidden smile, Xerxes arched a delicate brow, the smile on her lips widening as the brit mused aloud.

"Such a precarious situation, I've found myself in, it appears that I'm dealing with the devil tonight.

Still... This will be an interesting night indeed for me,"

Despite her amusement at the Brit’s musing, Xerxes stayed quiet, content with seeing that the other man turned woman (for his companion could be nothing else) had started speaking again.

"I may not agree with all those idiots in Silverhollow, but they do have a point with one thing."

"Knowledge is power; you can build a whole kingdom out of foolish rumours and lies if you can convince the illiterate and naive mass that they are true; you can reign over all if you can convince them that you know best; but can one strategically placed, or even on mere coincidence, false piece of information be the end of you? The only time you'll find out is if you watch someone else crash; or happen to be the unlucky one who crashed himself."

"Information can be likened to the strongest and finest of alcohol; as soon as you get drunk on it, you feel that nothing can harm or hurt you. You are invincible to man, demon, or divine alike; you are suddenly the master of a world of nameless pawns. You rule all; you control all. But as soon as you get out of that pub, the minute you put down the glass and leave the room..."

Head tilted back to look at her companion with an amused glance, Xerxes hardly batted an eye as the glass crashed to the ground, and as the Brit smirked, she gave a shadowed one of her own.

" Your life may shatter as easily as this; and you may find yourself at the wrong side of the street. There, one of those nameless pawns may have you at gun point, or if luck doesn't favor you, be the one to leave you on the ground bleeding and forgotten. A single misinformation, a brief moment of drunken delusion, and you may find the hard way that no amount of the bulletproof armor you wear on your body can help you if your attacker shoots you in the back of the head."

Watching as the Brit aimed a kick at the waiter cleaning up the mess he himself had created before he tossed a silver coin at the disgruntled server, Xerxes merely snorted into her hand.

" So how can you really say, whose information to trust? If a stranger feels like it, he can hurt out of the sole reason that he merely felt like doing it. Humanity doesn't consist of angels, sparkles, and rainbow, luv; there are people who are arses just for the reason that they want to be. They don't have to explain themselves; they can't explain themselves. But is being an arse for defense? Is it a facade? Or is it natural?

Can we say that we truly know what's real or not in a world where even the most honest of people lies when he says he does not lie? Or when the 'evil, heartless criminal' is honest in his trial? To label people as trustworthy and not is the equivalent of seeing people in black and white; there is neither.

There is only gray.
No man or woman has committed no mistake or fault.

There are only those who acknowledge their faults, and those too caught up in others to see their own glaring directly right at them.

Those in denial are always the most entertaining to watch, as well as the most overly dramatic at their death bed. The loved hero will only be useful until he falls. The world, as such, will always be on the look out for the time when he does; some out of envy, other because it serves as entertainment. As soon as the 'just' one makes a wrong decision; well, there's nowhere to go but down. From the celebrated honour of the land, he becomes nothing but a nuisance. The one who tries to please, will soon find out how selfish humanity truly is; as soon as they see 'kindness', people naturally flatter and grin for the possibility of being able to abuse the idiot's naivety later.

The world is not fair, and those who think otherwise or deny will be the hardest hit when they crash.
Still, everyone loves a good sob story about the unfortunate 'martyr'."

" And on the note of that 'unmentionables' as you referred to them, with 'competition' such as these even if I drank all the alcohol in the world, I'd still be more endowed than these barmpots. Besides, only those in dire need to compensate will need to bring that up."

“What a nice speech,” Pausing only a second after her companion had finished speaking, Xerxes tilted her head back to swallow the last of her liquor before holding it out to the barhop with a hardly a glance, her gaze instead pinned on Brit next to her. “It makes for pretty words, but does it hold up?

You say that information can crumble- but there you are wrong. Lies crumble, they fall to dust and ruin just as easily as that glass you dropped.

But truth?” Xerxes smiled, “Truth stands and stays. You can warp it, you can twist it but you can’t make it wrong.

Good, bad, evil- it doesn’t matter. If it kills whoever hears it, well, such is their worry, not mine.

Perhaps…” the metal-man turned woman mused, diverting her attention from her companion to take her refilled glass with an amused smile directed towards the besotted barman, “that is why I prefer that to all others. I hold no business in lies-I don’t tell them, I don’t pass them.

I hold no care with labels. After all…” Xerxes tilted her head back with a sidelong glance as she took a sip of her drink, “…once you strip away the labels, what is there but a man or a woman? A sentient being or an animal?”

As for my faults? Oh, I am aware of them- perhaps more than most.

After all…” Xerxes snorted into her hand, “I’d rather not fall like the glass you just dropped.

As for martyrs and heroes? Ha- I’d rather not be one myself. Perhaps though…” Xerxes paused, swirling the amber liquid her glass before she blinked, “…a villain seems more likely. What fun is there in being good? Ah, but with my occupation, perhaps I am but an overseer, the teller of tales. I hold no part in the story, do I?

I see it, I sell it, I tell it-nothing more. I take no active part.

Simple enough no? “ Placing her drink on the bar counter with barely a tap to denote its presence, Xerxes cocked a brow, eyes drawing notably across her companions’ frame before she laughed.

“Hmm…I suppose. I hold no care in that matter myself. And in this current form, well, it doesn’t matter how endowed I am, no does it? After all…” Xerxes mused idly, “…that would be a sign that something was wrong, correct?
I’ve never heard of a gas cooked up by scientists that could make one both genders at once.”