Walking along the busy pavements of Paris was always a chore in the late morning hours. Harried assistants running back and forth with phones clamped to their ears getting their bosses' 11 am coffee, suited inner city boys moving between meetings, the ten thousand tourists moving between local haunts, and don't even mention the entitlement of people on bicycles. Late September also gained the addition of swarms of students from the 46 different universities in the Paris area, all clamouring to get to lectures or hand in assignments.
Every single one of them had ten thoughts racing through their heads at once. And Margaret could hear them all.
She skillfully wove through the crowds as she approached the eyesore of a hotel Rebecca had picked out, this great big white stucco wall covered in perfectly aligned windows and terraces, overflowing with flowers so pink that she wanted to vomit. She lifted the brim of her wide-set sunhat and looked up, and up some more, as she followed the telltale pulses of power.
She had been waiting for this moment for over three months, she hadn't seen Philip since her impulsive stop at the Skinwalker tribe on her way from Baltimore to San Diago. She admits, that appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the night to see Philip since she was passing through was a little risky since the Skinwalkers are quite secretive. She was lucky Philip's host Bodaway didn't just blast her on the spot when she found the two of them in bed together the morning after.
As she stepped through the moving crowd up towards the palatial entrance to the hotel, Margaret garnered some stares from passersby both pedestrians and hotel patrons. Her grandmother, Agatha Wilson the former Congregation member and CEO of Wilson Apparel ad Cosmetics, once said Margaret would be the best-dressed girl in the world, this held true with only Ysabeau having a better sense of style, fostered over thousands of years.
She strolled up to the high doorway in a loose stark white summer suit with leavers lace trim accentuated with a high waist wrap, showing off her wide soft curves. She stood out among her friends and family, most of whom are trim and athletic, with her gentle curves, high waistline and smooth soft figure that she knew exactly how to accentuate with everything she wore. However, the wash n' go hair, whiskey-gold eyes, and redient sepia skin was dulled with the heavy disguising spell draped over her body in layers.
Like all weavers, her skin and aura shimmered with power, a power visible to all vampires and even warmbloods under certain circumstances. She wore a vail-like spell over her skin in public, removing the shimmer as well as downplaying stand-out features and attributes, therefore drawing attention away from herself.
Stepping through the doors, she was met with the smell of magic, several powerful witches had spent time here recently. She sent out a pulse of magic through the building, a small rush of power undetectable to any of the humans while being impossible to ignore by any witches Guess who? she projected along with the pulse. Her eyes scanned the large foyer with grand white walls and carved ceilings, Becca really knew how to pick the most unnecessarily extravagant hotel possible. Her eyes crossed those of a tired-looking guard who was already closely watching her, a look of high accusation.
She widened her eyes and looked through his like she was threading a needle, she prodded his mind and was greeted with the basic feeling of your everyday racist. He was on edge however and unlikely to say anything about it and as she withdrew she caught the tail end of memory with the familiar face of Angelique.
She broke her eye contact, the entire interaction lasting less than a second. He had obviously tried throwing his weight around with Ange only to be thoroughly cowed by Rebecca. Frankly, she was surprised the girl didn't break his fingers. She stands still and observes the area, one hand on a suitcase and the other on a large handbag, made gifted to her by her grandmother.
Surely, they've felt me already She thought, further projecting her unique aura He said he'd meet me here.
"Is there something you require, Mademoiselle?" A crisp voice asks, she had been standing too long.
Turning she was greeted by a stern, professional man in a firmly tailored suit. She looked into his eyes the same way she did the guard. His name is George Brun Roux, he is 53 years old, he ate oatmeal with bananas and honey this morning, and he's currently having an affair with his wife's florist.
"I'm waiting for someone," She replied curtly, withdrawing from his mind "A guest."
"I believe you would be more comfortable waiting in the salon," He pointed a finger towards a separate room outfitted with wide couches and a bar "Would you like a drink while you wait?"
"No, thank you," Margaret said as a distinct recognition flooded her system, a reply to the announcement of her arrival "They'll be here shortly."
She was expecting a firey caress from this reply and was instead met with an icy brush unmistakable as Rebecca's presence. It was off somehow, its edges fuzzy and sluggish like Rebecca was magically exhausted. Though weakened in some way, it was still heady and solid, like her soul was too large for the confines of her body. The feeling grew stronger as the presence was accompanied by hints of anxiety and fatigue, something was defiantly wrong.
As Rebecca drew closer the feelings grew in strength but did not open a pathway into her mind. Becca may not be as powerful as her brother, but she was more than capable of shielding her mind passively, a skill gained through learning magic at the knee of Diana Bishop herself.
As the touch of worry and reluctance settled further in the air, Margaret caught a shock of black hair over white skin as Rebecca rounded the corner. It was impossible to know who moved first with Margaret dropping her bags and Rebecca breaking out in a broad smile, some of the anxiety ebbing away. The two raced towards each other, Rebecca moving silently in flats compared to Margaret's clicking kitten heels. They met in a tangle of arms and hair, Rebecca breathing in her scent of burnt rose and candied violent while Margaret wrapped her full magic about her friend's depleted power.
"We've got a situation," Rebecca whispered into her ear, cutting straight to the point.
"I guessed as much," Margaret replied "Where's Philip?"
"Upstairs with Angelique and a-" Rebecca paused "-Uh guest."
"How worried should I be?"
"About a 7.5." Rebecca pulled away, "I'll take your stuff."
Becca reached out and took the suitcase from Margaret's hand before collapsing the handle and picking it up by the side handle. Margaret couldn't help but notice the manager's surprise at Rebecca's strength. The girls turned and strolled towards the elevators, taking on to the floor with the twin's suites.
"Ok," Rebecca said on a breath out "I'm not sure how much he's cleaned up but it may still be trashed."
"Trashed?" Margaret side-eyed her sister, for all intents and purposes. The two had grown up together, learned together, fought together and with each other as all siblings do.
"There was a commotion, to say the least," Rebecca rubbed her face with her freehand "I can't leave him alone for five fucking minutes."
Margaret noticed a smudge of red over Becca's hand, she reached out and gently took her wrist. Rebecca gave Margaret an inquisitive look before noticing the blood and jerking her hand away.
"That's mine," She said sucking at the stain and licking away the blood "The rest, however."
They reached Rebecca's door and she swiped the card.
"Remember," Rebecca said, looking directly into Margaret's eyes "Chill."
Margaret felt a shiver roll over her skin as Rebecca opened the door.
The first thing that hit her was the feeling that flooded the room: fear, desire, pleasure, anger, hunger, embarrassment, shame, and sadness. It choked her. Next, the metallic smell of blood caught her nose, and she recoiled internally as she stepped through.
She was greeted by a scene out of an action movie, what she had always imagined the set of a fight scene looked like after shooting a clip.
A flipped couch and a shattered glass table. A splatter of blood mixed in with broken pieces of ceramic. A reed chair, armrests crushed and shredded by the rapid, strong movement of a vampire sitting up too quickly. And in the centre of it all a shirtless Philip, slipping a shirt over his chest. A chest coated with streaks of red over the pale skin and red curls of hair.
That's new She thought, Studying the wider shoulders and more defined muscle than she was used to. The new fur covering his pecs, moving down his abs and disappearing into grey sweatpants, suited his larger build in a way Margaret never considered. She felt a pang of desire as his body was covered by the fabric, even in this almost frightening situation, she was drawn to Philip more than ever.
As his head poked through the white shirt, Margaret's growing smile reversed as twin streaks of blood came into view. They were lightly smudged from hands and fingers, Or Necks she thought, and originated from the edges of his mouth. She also took note of the look of devastation that plastered his face the moment his eyes caught hers.
His eyes seemed to crumble as they moved over her form, once his study of her was finished and he concluded she was fine in every way his eyes dropped to the floor and refused to meet hers. Shame flooded her senses to such a degree Margaret closed off her mind from the outside world. Philip's eyes darted to Margarets.
He must have felt her protect her mind, he was always sensitive to the changes in others. His throat worked, Adam's apple bobbing with a swallow, as his eyes look on a red sheen.
She didn't need her mind open to understand what was going through his head, she could see it plain on his face. He thought she had closed off her mind so he wouldn't see her disgust or anger or whatever emotion his mind conjured up. In this respect, he was like his father, thinking people's thoughts for them and hating himself more for it. He balled his fists and began to chew on his cheeks, an old nervous habit that caused him to build bumped scars inside his cheeks.
Margaret felt another presence in the room as Ange came stumbling quickly from a hallway.
"He's waking up," Ange stopped before looking between the girls and a Philip on the verge of tears "Am I interrupting something?"
"No," Margaret said "We're alright."
She began to turn before doing a double take "Wait, who's awake?"
"Rebecca's one-night stand and, as of ten minutes ago, Philip's living gogurt tube."
Margaret was confused by Ange's words, she always found it amazing how well Angelique could speak English despite it being her second language, able to use slang and nuance so smoothly. The meaning of these words hit her as Philip wiped at the blood around his mouth.
Philip had bitten the guy Rebecca slept with last night. Well, this is certainly awkward.
"Pip," Margaret took a step forward, reaching out with her hand "Are you ok?"
Philip took a sudden step back and his knee hit the flipped sofa causing him to tumble back onto the back of the couch with a choked curse.
"Philip!" Margaret yelled, forgetting the relative invulnerability of Philip's part vampire body.
Rebecca sucked in her lips trying to stifle a laugh while Ange did no such thing and almost fell over in laughter. Margaret was by the couch reaching for her boyfriend again, he shied away from her.
"Don't touch me," He said quickly rolling over onto his feet, wrapping his arms around himself "Not like this."
Ange stopped laughing at Rebecca's pointed look as Philip started sharing head to toe, his pupils blown with a shine of red over their surface.
"Philip, it's ok," Margaret said, trying to placate the young man who stood half a foot taller than her.
"No, it's not," He half shouted in return "Nothing about this is ok."
"Philip, you need to calm down," Rebecca intruded before Margaret eve opened he mouth to respond "It was a mistake, and no one is hurt."
"He is," Philip gestured towards the bathroom "He's hurt 'cause I hurt him."
He buried his face in his large hands before squatting down onto the balls of his feet with his knees bent out.
"He's fine Philip," Rebecca said stepping forward silently "I already told you I healed him."
"Wait, what?" Ange and Margaret said at once.
"Yeah, I don't know but I somehow managed to heal the bite, no clue so don't ask," Rebecca said quickly.
"Doesn't mean I didn't bite him, Becca!" Philip dropped his hands "I could have -oh my god-"
He buried his face back into his hands before falling back onto his ass "I could have killed him." Philip muffled through his hands.
"Yeah, well, you didn't," Rebecca responded sitting next to him.
"Because you tackled me." He was getting more agitated by the second, his edges becoming blurry.
Margaret moved slowly, kneeling in front of Philip and placing a hand on the side of his face. The blur was reduced back to crisp edges.
"Breathe baby," Margaret said rubbing a thumb over the back of Philip's hand "You need to breathe."
"What the hell was that?" Ange asked "He looked like he was disappearing."
"He almost Stepped," Margaret replied as Philip began taking slow deep breaths.
"Time walking?" Ange questioned, "Why would he go to a different time?"
"Not a different time," Margaret said, scootching forward until her knees rested on Philip's feet "A different place, he wasn't doing it on purpose."
"I didn't know you could do that," Ange said walking into the kitchen area and sitting on the counter.
"We Time Walkers can move through space independently of time with enough practice," Margaret continued to stroke Philip's face "Only short distances, usually within line of sight or just past it like around corners or through walls. Diana calls it Stepping."
Margaret reached her other hand out as if holding something in it, suddenly a glass was filling that space.
"We can call objects to and from us," Margaret set the glass down, Ange turned towards the clear cabinet where a single glass among the others was missing "Within reason, of course, it's far easier to move an object if you're touching or calling it to you. Trying to move something from one place to another without it leaving or coming to you is quite difficult and requires a direct line of sight or sense."
"So you can teleport is what you're saying," Ange said, her eyes not leaving the glass on the floor.
"Kind of, it's more complicated than that," Rebecca pipes up "Mom calls it Micro-Timewalking, you need to move a tiny bit in time while focusing more on location."
"You move in such a small way that it doesn't require going back since you aren't even leaving this timeline," Margaret said while gently reaching her other hand towards Philip's face.
"Leaving this timeline?" Ange said confused "You're losing me."
"As I said," Margaret slowly pulled on Philip's hands drawing them down into his lap "It's complicated."
"I can't Timewalk so it never made much sense to me," Rebecca said turning towards Ange "Mom says it's just something you need to do to understand, like knowing what water feels like to understand how to swim."
"I guess that makes sense," Ange said "In a way."
Philip's eyes were downcast and dark, his eyes twitching like he was fighting with something. Margaret's hands come back to rest on Philip's face.
"Hey," She said, swiping at the trail of a red tear "Please don't cry."
She leaned forward with confidence and dropped her lips onto his, he let out a sigh before pushing into the kiss.
"Come help me with Leo," Becca said, standing and gesturing towards the bathroom.
The two were alone, lips slowly moving to the shared rhythm all lover knew. Philip's scent of cherry blossoms and honey became overpowering as she deepened the kiss, he responded by breathing in her own floral notes. Philip rolled onto his knees without breaking the kiss as he brought his hand around her head, his fingers getting lost in her thick curls causing her hat to fall to the floor. His other hand moved around her waist as Margaret's slid down his cheeks and rested them around his neck, lifting her head to better meet his taller frame.
The two broke for a second, both taking in a few quick breaths before latching back onto each other. Their lips parted as Philip's tongue intertwined with Margarets, and the heat in her chest began to climb up her neck as his tongue explored her mouth. She tasted the light tang of something metallic and before she could even decide if it bothered her Philip drew back.
"I'm sorry," He wiped at his mouth "I didn't-didn't think about..."
Margaret pulled his back by his shirt.
"If I cared I wouldn't have kissed you," She said laying her palms flat over his chest "Besides, it's not the first time."
She had tasted blood on his lips before, he had drunk from a blood bag or gone hunting with his father and sister and then kissed her many times.
"It's never been like this," He said, his eyes not connecting with hers, "Never straight from someone."
Philip groaned "I never even, you know," He stuttered "I don't feed from people."
"Relax baby," Margaret rose on her knees and rested her forehead on Philip's "I've always been in for the long haul, it's never stopped me."
She kissed him as he rose to his knees pressing his body flush against hers, tipping her head back to angle their kiss. They were interrupted by the sound of a struggle, both pulling away and turning towards an interesting sight.
Rebecca was carrying Leo, her arms wrapped around his chest clamping his arms to his sides. His forearms and legs were thrashing while Becca maintained a stoic face that showed no sign so physical fatigue.
"I would have just knocked him out again but I'm out of juice," She said around the thrashing human, yells muffled by a washcloth jammed into his mouth.
Ange followed wide-eyed "I tried to put him back to sleep but his mind is too frantic, I couldn't penetrate his consciousness to quiet it."
Margaret sighed as she stood, bushing a hand over Philip's shoulder in a gesture of comfort as she moved into the next room waving to be followed. She looked around the small room, her eyes landing on a small dining table with several sturdy chairs.
"Put him in," Margaret said to Rebecca.
She followed Margaret's instructions, walking behind the chair and restraining Leo while Margaret pointed towards the chair.
"Solide être doux"
The back warped and split, it became soft and mailable. Margaret curved her hands and the now pliable wood followed its motions, wrapping around the human.
"Doux être solide"
The wood creaked and groaned as it solidified into its new shape.
"I really should invest in making some phase change spells," Rebecca said "So little magic for such a versatile spell."
"Yeah, they're great," Margaret said turning from her enchantment "I use them to make these decorative candles for my grandma's line of scented candles."
The human started violently thrashing against his restraints, drawing everyone's attention.
"This really is a nightmare," Margaret said, as Leo tried fighting against his bonds causing the chair to jump precariously.
By this point Philip had made his way into the room, arms once again wrapped around himself. Once Leo spotted Philip he began to thrash wildly, trying to put as much distance between the two.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Philip said taking a step forward.
Tears sprang in Leo's eyes as he shook from head to toe trying to get away.
"Oh my fucking god, stop being a little bitch," Rebecca kicked the chair leg causing it to slide a few feet "Marge couldn't you just get into his head and do a little *Click* *Click*" Rebecca snipped her fingers like a pair of scissors and clicked her tongue.
"Rebecca, you're not helping," Margaret admonished while taking a step forward and lowering herself in front of Leo "And yes I'll try, I don't see any other way out of this shit show."
"Hi," She said to the terrified human "My name is Margaret Wilson and I'm here to help."
Leo shook his head hard.
"I'm not going to hurt you," She said calmly "And what happened before was an accident."
Leo's eyes took on anger as well as fear.
"I know you're scared, confused and angry," Margaret lowered herself to one knee so she was lower than Leo "You have every right to feel this way."
His eyes jumped from hers to Rebecca's, then over to Ange and Philip by the door before returning the Margaret's.
"Yes," Margaret said in response to his silent curiosity "As you have no doubt realised the four of us are not normal."
His eyes darted around again.
"I," Margaret said, a hand to her chest "am a Witch and so is Angelique."
She pointed to Ange who gave a small wave.
"Philip and Rebecca are Brightborns," She gestured to the twins "Vampire-Witch Hybrids."
His eyes grew wider with each of Margaret's words.
"With situations like this, there are two options," Margaret's eyes never left Leo's "Usually there is only one but since I'm here it gives some more choice."
His eyes questioned.
"Either we let you go and you stay quiet," Margaret said, laying his options out before him "Or I make you forget, which is preferable since it ties up all loose ends."
His eyes go wide again Stay out of my head you fucking freak! His mind yelled.
"Don't be a dick," Ange said quickly in response to his thought "Insult her again and maybe Pippy over here will finish the job and we'll dump you in the Seine."
"Ok those are the options: Forget or Breakfast," Rebecca piped up "Because I have a feeling you won't keep your mouth shut so you'd best choose between me and Margaret."
Rebecca flashed an extra toothy smile and a look of fear crossed his face, he shook his head at Rebecca before quickly nodding to Margaret.
"Alright," Margaret said, she wasn't happy about the empty threat though they have produced results "I need to touch your temples, you'll slowly fall asleep, don't fight it or I may erase things by accident."
She moved her hands towards his head and he flinched.
"You need to relax or you'll seriously regret it." She filled her voice with authority and he stilled, she placed her hands over his temples and delved into his mind completely.
She opened her weaver's third eye as she stripped her disguising spell. Her skin gleamed with a shimmer that pulsed over her golden brown skin like a bright prismatic light. Inside his mind, she saw a swarm of threads. Looking around she watched the threads combine and weave themselves into scenes from the young man's life.
She watched him playing Rugby in school, his first kiss with a girl on a swing set, getting his job here at the hotel. The liquid memories passed over Margaret as she searched for the most recent ones.
They reared up as several large orbs of light, radiant and piercing. She took one in her hand and peered into it.
She watched his perspective as he walked into the kitchen tired and lethargic, watching him open the fridge door, his confusion at the open blood bag, and his fear and disgust to see Philip drinking it.
She felt his fear and panic as he backed away from a real predator, his ancient instincts of survival kicking in for the first time as he was faced with a creature that could kill him in an instant.
She watched through his eyes as he bolted for the door only to be grabbed and tackled and mutilated by the monster behind him. How he tried to scream for someone, for anyone to save him, his cries muffled by a paw that covered his mouth as he was bitten and crushed beneath the hot body of the man above him.
He felt the way he pressed into him, how his back was pulled into the chest of the monster, how the suction at his throat made him feel cold and numb. Even though a hard length began to press against his lower back as this sick monster took pleasure from his suffering. Margaret was deeply confused, she knew that feeding and sexuality were deeply intertwined but never thought Philip would pop a boner while feeding off a guy.
She reached around the memory and began to wrap it in threads of her own, tying the orbs together into a conglomeration of thoughts and feelings and fears. She began to draw away from Leo's mind.
She opened her real eyes as Leo's began to roll into the back of his head. She slowly pulled away from his temples, and a thin stream of threads drew out the orbs of memory before shredding them into the air, their energy released.
Leo slumped forward and Margaret closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.
After a few seconds of silence, Margaret took in a deep breath before turning to Philip.
"Babe, did you rub your rock-hard dick into this dude's back while trying to eat him?"
Philip's cheeks turned so red that his freckles began to disappear.
Ange laughed so hard that she fell onto the wall and started sliding down, holding tightly onto her stomach all the way down.
"I-I Umm..." He stuttered as he shifted from one foot to the other "I don't know what happened."
This response seemed to amuse Angelique even more as she began thrashing her legs while laughing her ass off and parroting his words. Philip looked like he wanted the ground the swallow him up.
"He didn't even notice," Rebecca said, gesturing towards the ball of embarrassment shaped like her brother "I pointed it out."
Margaret rolled her eyes and stood, a wave of her hand revered the chair to its original appearance. She gently pulled the cloth from his mouth as Leo slumped bonelessly into the chair.
"Put him in the bed," Margaret said, cracking her knuckles "He'll only be out for a few more minutes."
Rebecca nodded before lifting the limp young man and carrying him into the dim bedroom.
Margaret turns towards the other room before strolling through the door grabbing Philip's hand as she passes, it's flushed like his face and warm to the touch. Margaret essentially drags Philip into the room he and Rebecca trashed before stopping before the mess.
"We need to set this all to rights," She gestured to the room at large "Can you handle that right now?"
Philip nodded and interlaced his fingers with Margarets, their magic was so compatible, they were both weavers, both with an affinity for fire, both time walkers, and they knew each other's power, bodies and souls like their own.
Their magic wove in and out itself, bonding the two into a single desire, to return the room to how it was before. Philip spoke a repair and rejuvenation spell while Margaret cast a cleaning and tidying spell. Their minds touched at the edges and overlapped as they formed the same image across both their minds.
The glass and the ceramic began to dance and chime against the tiled floor as the pieces levitated from their place and began to reform into an undamaged mug and table. The freshly repaired glass pane rose and reattached itself to the legs of the table before lowering to the ground, the fixed mag sat atop its surface. The reed chair snapped and cracked as its ling fibres were reattached and straightened.
The couch carefully flipped upright once more before sliding over to its original position, the blood splatter on the floor began to bubble like a pot of water before evaporating into nothing. Within the space of thirty seconds, the room was completely back to normal.
"Damn," Ange said from behind the two "That was the coolest shit I've ever seen."
"You should see how mom organises the Library at Les Revenants," Rebecca said returning to the room, sans Leo "She animates well over a thousand books, papers, and documents and makes them sort themselves out according to how she wants things categorised. Sometimes she even rearranges the shelves if she wants to change up the look."
Margaret was present for such a reshuffle, books moved around like birds flapping their pages in groups as loose papers folded themselves into aeroplanes and flew around the room. The shelves seemed to fold in on themselves like the world itself bent to Diana's will before settling into a new orientation.
The four sat heavily on the righted couch, Philip sitting ridged and straight while the girls were relaxed with Ange even putting her feet up onto the repaired table.
"I'm sorry about all this," He waved his hand at the room "I shouldn't have-"
He paused biting his lip, Margaret's hand slipped into his with a squeeze and his body relaxed a fraction.
"I don't know why I did it."
"I do," Rebecca said with a scoff "you have no self-control because you refuse to learn it."
"Rebecca." Margaret hissed in warning.
"No Marge, I'm serious," Rebecca sat forward, elbows planted on her knees as she pointed a finger towards her brother "you need to step the hell up with your feeding control."
"I have control." Philip spat back, his finger turning red.
"Being able to not rip a dear to pieces isn't control, its restraint against being an animal," Rebecca didn't break eye contact with her brother, her own fingers turning blue "being able to control yourself in a situation where you get overwhelmed is a totally different thing."
"What was I supposed to do?" Philip asked throwing his hands up "You would have done the same."
"No, she wouldn't," Ange piped up "Sorry hun, but Becca's right."
"What would you know."
"Last year a girl ripped her arm open in pottery class," Ange said, eyes hooded in memory "She fell and punched her arm through an unglazed vase and sliced her arms into ribbons."
Margaret wondered where this was going, she continued to hold Philip's hand in support, though she agreed he needed to do something different. She didn't like to admit that sometimes he scared her with his sudden mood changes, unnatural strength both magically and physically, and his stubbornness coated in insecurity.
"Becca didn't lose her mind," Ange pointed to Rebecca whose lips were pursed in thought "instead she was the one who helped wrap the girl's arm in loose muslin cloth, covered in blood with the room filled with panic and fear and she kept her cool long enough to help the girl and step back out of the room."
Philip slumped back into the couch, a look of resignation plastered on.
"You put off learning how to deal with feeding from people with your anxiety that you are going to hurt someone," Rebecca said softly yet firmly "therefore you are completely unprepared in these circumstances and end up actually hurting someone."
"I-" Philip tried to speak before stopping and closing his mouth.
Margaret feels sorrow for Philip's situation, and an unwillingness to attempt control for fear of hurting someone and hurting someone as a result. She was not there to witness Philip's attack on a human at Harkness tower five years ago, though she always felt the event like a shadow over Philip's mind every time it was brought up. The same black cloud of regret and shame-filled the room, Margaret saw Ange flinch at its cold, slimy feel though she felt less than have of what Margaret could.
Rebecca gave a sigh and rocked forward, diving herself onto her feet.
"This has been a bit of a crappy morning so let's all go get something to eat, I'm starving," Rebecca walked over to her closet and pulled out a pair of black stilettos, slipping them on in place of her sandals.
"Goddess," Margaret said staring at the shoes "I don't know how you wear those, these are the most I can handle." She gestured to her two-inch kitten heels.
"I've never minded them," She took a few steps, testing out the fine heel "My skin's a lot tougher than yours."
"If we're going out I should change, I'm still wearing last night on these clothes." Ange stood, pulling her phone from her pocket and checking the time "It'll take me an hour to get back to my place, is that ok?"
"You don't need to just wear something of mine, we can just spell it to fit," Rebecca added this last point when Ange gave her Amazonian body a once over.
"You should change into something a little better," Becca said to her brother "I wasn't thinking about having you go out in that when I grabbed it."
Philip was out of retorts by this time and stood with little ceremony, he murmured a quick goodbye as he made his way to the door, taking the key card from Becca as he passed.
"Marge," Rebecca said as she began to follow Philip out the door "Could you help me with refitting these clothes? I'm still drained out."
"Ange can handle a basic resizing spell, Philip said he made her one last year," She replied, Ange nodded and said she could do it. Rebecca grimaced at the possibility her clothes would not survive the transformation.
With a quick word to Rebecca, Margaret left the suite catching up with Philip halfway down the hall. She caught up to him and grabbed his hand gently from behind, he stopped walking, he didn't turn around.
"Hey," She said running her thumb over the silver band around his wrist "are you ok? I know that wasn't great to hear." As much as it needed to be said she thought.
"It-," He turned slightly, half profile "It was a bit blunt but I'm wondering if this really is my fault."
"No, Philip," Margaret cut him off "that's not what you should take from that, it's not your fault, you just need to learn."
"Yeah, and it's my fault I haven't done that yet."
She groaned internally, his broody moods were something almost unbearable.
"Take some time, love," She fell back onto her Australian charm, picked up from her dad and grandmother "It'll do you some good."
He sighed and nodded once, Margaret released his arm and he stepped forward to swipe the card, stepping through he started pulling off his clothes.
"God," Margaret said as Philip kicks his sweatpants across the room "You two go through clothes faster than my grandma's models." She eyes the scattered clothes counting four separate shirts all crumpled and worn despite him being at the hotel less than 24 hours.
Philip gave a huff of acknowledgement, he hopped on one foot as he wriggled a sock off.
"I don't think you need to strip completely, babe," Margaret said as Philip removed the other sock "As much as I like the view."
He chuckled as he pulled off his shirt, standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. He gave a spin on the balls of his feet before striking a pose while flexing his muscles.
"Yes, yes," she said, giving a slow clap "Very impressive."
He straightened before taking a few short steps into Margaret's personal space, she looked up at him as he ran his fingers down the side of her face, he rested his knuckles beneath her chin lifting it into a kiss. She softened into the kiss, her feet extending up to her toes as she tried to match his height. He quickly deepened the kiss and was just as quickly pushed away, a hand on each shoulder.
"As much as I'd like to see what's different about this body," She ran a hand down his bicep causing him to shiver "I'd rather not keep your sister waiting."
He leaned down slowly before gently kissing her neck, he peppered kisses up to her ear and inhaled her scent along the way and she reciprocated his shivers.
"I'm sure we have five minutes," He whispered in her ear, Margaret positively melted at the feel of his breath "and I can make that work just fine."
He kissed her again just below the ear, she tipped her head back with a chuckle.
"Very sure of yourself, aren't we?"
"Only problem is that I don't have any condoms on me," Philip lifted a hand, popping the lowest button on her stark white suit jacket "but I'm sure we could get creative." suddenly, she felt a slightly cool, wet tongue run up her neck.
"Down boy," She said smoothly, a hand coasting over his chiselled abdomen "you'll sweat out my hair."
"I may not be able to fuck you right here, right now but I'll make the wait worth it if you wanna put a pin in this."
"Ah, so you're going to make me wait for this hypothetical fuck, huh?" her fingertips gently curled around the elastic of his underwear "I'm gonna have to wait for what you'll give me?"
"You'd know better than anyone else," He purred, nipping her earlobe gently so as to not draw blood.
"Well, how would you like to know that you could fuck me right here, right now?" She rolled her neck more to the side, giving him better access.
"No condoms, babe," He said, a slight disappointment in his tone.
"How convenient that I got an IUD last month."
He pulled back with superhuman speed and looked into her eyes, a gentle smile covering her face. A growl emanated from his throat, something deep and animalistic, something that made Margaret feel a twinge of fear and a floor of desire.
"Since you can't get or pass on human diseases and I won't get pregnant with this tiny plastic miracle, there isn't much use or condoms." She placed a palm flat on his chest and stepped unto him "So now you'll have something more to anticipate than I do."
She felt a strong heartbeat followed a few seconds late by another, so slow yet so powerful. He leaned down and pressed his forehead into hers.
"Then I'm just going to have to make sure I fuck you so good you won't be able to even shout my name while I'm buried in you to the hilt." Margaret gave a short hum of praise.
"That was the last thing I wanted to hear bro, Jesus fucking Christ."
The two jumped apart as the shout was followed by the sound of a closing door down the hall was heard.
Philip perked his ears.
"What?" Ange's soft french accent met his red-flushed ears "What did he say?"
"You don't want to know," Rebecca said flatly "But clearly Philip isn't ready and Margaret may be lacking in the clothing department as well."
"W-we'll be out in a minute," Philip yelled, stuttering in embarrassment, the look reflected in Margaret's face as she rebuttoned her jacket and smoothed out her clothes and hair.
Philip jumped and pulled out a short sleeve button down and shorts from the closet, he started slipping on the shorts when Margaret spoke up.
"You may wanna change those boxers, baby," He looked at her before looking down the front of his body.
He was slightly tented from before with a wet patch about two inches across soaking into his boxers.
"Oh for fuck sake," He waved his hand in an angry motion and the garment quickly disintegrated in a woosh of black and red flames. He shrunk a little at the realisation he just burned his underwear off.
"While I do like the show," She pulled on the air to halt her words while nodding towards Philip's half-hard dick "I think you'd best hurry up."
Philip's pale body flushed in embarrassment as he reached towards the closet and pulled a pair of underwear out of the air before slipping them over his hips. He pulled on the shorts and shirt before waving over the entire room.
"Animatuum"
All the loose clothes, socks, shoes, and items strewn across the room began to slowly move, their interiors filling out as if worn by an invisible body. Pants and shorts lined up with the shirts as they stood up as one.
"Pack yourselves away." Philip's words were full of magic and direction and the living items did as they were told.
The jeans, shoes, and socks from the previous night bounded into the room from the bedroom while a toothbrush and comb acted as legs to a small foot-high body constructed of toiletries from the bathroom.
All the clothes jumped into the suitcase left on the floor as still folded clothes flapped their appendages like wings and flew into the case too, settling in an organised manner. The last of Philip's things dropped into the case, which zipped itself up and rolled off to the side.
A single pair of grey flats were left at the door and Philip stepped into them, Margaret stood behind him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and he leaned back into her body.
"I love you, pip," She kissed his spine gently.
"I love you too."
Characters
Margaret Wilson
Age: 20
Height: 5ft 7
Weight: 145lbs
Species: Weaver
Key Attributes: Fire Magic, Flight, Mind Reading and Manipulation, Telepathy, Weaving, Time Walking.