The shots did nothing to her, but she swayed unsteadily in her seat to purely humor him. “Ready to lose?” Her eyes narrowed, her lips moving less so as to purposefully slur her speech. As if he’d even notice. This little exchange had been more fun than she’d thought, though she had to admit she didn’t expect him to last this long. “Is it beginning to feel more like a man’s contest now?” Speak your thoughts.. She chanted to herself. She had to make this believable. A drunk person has no filter.
“Gotta tell you though, it was a good try. Seeing you in a frilly shirt will make my day.” Amaria continued, gazing at him. “Most men would be on the floor by now, maybe being an oaf whose agenda consists of drinking and being overall.. well, isn’t so bad.” She shakily placed her glass onto the table, leaning against it and seemingly struggling to keep her eyes open. The look on his face when they reached the end and she emerged as completely sober would be a priceless one.
The Giant now took the game seriously. He noted that the girl was starting to look unsteady on her feet and her eyes appeared dazed almost. She had gone from standing, to pulling up a chair. Maybe her legs were set to buckle beneath her – to fold up like the very table that they used. The Giant continued to match her, glass for glass. His expression soon changing from merriment to a more somber look. Oh yes, the drink was taking affect on him. He had drunk a fair amount of scotch already, and when you mix drinks like this….it can go bad fast.
“Ready to lose?’ The young lass taunted. Was she kidding herself? She appeared to be taking a heavy hit as she swayed as though on the helm of a ship.
“I’m looking forward to seeing them tits of yours.” The Giant chortled as he took the next shot glass. He downed this one fast and then let out an enormous belch that was sure to be heard around the very Mansion. He leaned over and with his unsavory breath he said. “Only a big jesse wears a silly frilly fop shirt.” He had no intention of wearing a damn frilly shirt anytime soon.
The girl was struggling now, her hand shakily on the glass as she leaned back. She admitted that most men would be on the floor and out for the count, but she then taunted in her own special way that he was an oaf with an agenda to drink and be….-cough- The Giant took up the last glass and then tossed it back, drinking it down and then he set it down with a sense of victory. He thought he had won, for there was no way she could drink another. The girl could barely keep her eyelids open.
“I…WIN!” He declared, folding his arms, before he himself started to rock unsteadily on the barrel. Was he feeling it? Was he about close to fall off the barrel?
<3>
Her eyes fluttered closed again, her expression slackening quite convincingly for a moment until she straightened again, sniffling a bit tiredly. She opened her eyes fully, stamping on the floor a bit in an energetic matter, as though trying to keep herself away, but somewhat causing the barrel to sway a bit more. “Don’t fall~” She sang, pressing her palms flat against the table and tapping her fingers. “I’m sure you’d have liked the view,” She began, “But I’m sure my view of you will be even better.” A smirk.
Amaria stood then, her posture unmoved and completely sober as she reached forward…”Boo.” And pressed her finger to his forehead, poking him lightly and giving a small grin as he fell back. “So, I suppose I win, then?” Her speech was instantly cleared, her eyes wide and awake. It was now clearly obvious that she’d been faking the whole time, her hands clasped behind her back. “I’m probably going to have to burn off my finger now, but no matter. I can’t wait to see you in your new attire!” A grin of delight accompanied by a laugh came onto her face, her eyes bright and excited. Was he even awake? Did he understand her if he was? If he tried to get up, she was sure he’d fall back over. “You know, I heard that drinking too much alcohol can kill you.” She grabbed the vodka bottle that contained about 1/8 left of the liquid. She pressed it to her lips, drinking the remaining bit. “For good measure. I’m sure you know that it’s not polite to leave your bottle with some left in it?” Ah, this was fantastic. The look he’d given as she appeared unphased had truly made her night.
“Thank you, thank you.” She spoke to an imaginary invisible audience, placing one arm across her stomach and bowing over repeatedly, the other arm straight out as she held the bottle with that hand. “I do think I should be an actor, don’t you?” If he passed out, she was more than tempted to check for a wallet or any sort of coin. Hey, nothing said she couldn’t take a bit out under his misfortune, right?
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 08/09/2014 09:23PM by Invention.
“Whaaaa?” Yes, the Giant was shocked to see the girl suddenly go from looking like she was about to pass out from the shots, to suddenly be bright as a button, standing on her own and above all not at all drunk. That cheeky evil wench had done tricked the Giant into believing she was a simple slip of a girl, but the truth – that would have to come later. For you see, the Giant was barely holding on. He had already swayed unsteadily as he sat precariously on the barrel of ale. When she yelled “Boo!” and pressed her finger to his head, the poor hapless Giant fell backwards. He had met his match and landed with a god awful thud on the floor. But in a sense, the way he fell did more than just lay him out cold.
Oh she was sure her view of him would be better….and for a brief moment it was. That was until his kilt flew back and…well…exposed his family jewels. Ginger hair and all. Yes, his meat and two vege were on display for all the world, or those unfortunate in the cellar to see.
“Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!” he was out cold. No words other than the heavy snore of the Giant could be heard. Knocked out? Maybe. A mix of the drink and hitting his head on the floor would have done that.
So, while she thanked her imaginary audience, and was savoring her win against Duggie, the Giant was in the land of nod. No doubt she would come back down to the cellar, clasping that frilly over sized shirt that he would have to wear as he was the loser in this bet. It would be a great embarrassment, and one the Giant would probably never ever live down.
Amaria 1…The Giant 0.
<3>
Amaria placed the bottle back, patting his pockets until she heard a slight jingle of coins. She searched, eventually finding them and tucking them into her own pockets. “Price of the drink, of course!” She knew he couldn’t hear her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t talk out loud to herself and him. “Bet you’re never going to underestimate the power of a woman with a pretty face now, hmm?” She slowly stood, looking around and then stretching her arms over her head. She ran up the stairs of the cellar and disappeared for a long while, maybe an hour or two. When she came back down he appeared to be coming to, but was still groggy and laying down. However, she held a feather duster in the other hand and her clothing was different, much looser.
In her hands she gripped the shirt, a satisfied look on her face as she threw it at him, then walked to the corner of the cellar. Her skin started bubbling as she began to.. change into another woman.. Amaria’s skin darkened slightly from its previous pale, her hair lightening a bit and beginning to shoot into her skull as it shortened. Her features changed as did her body, her legs growing longer as she became taller, and a bit more curvy. She was lucky that throughout her lifetime she’d studied language and accents, otherwise she was sure he’d recognize her voice. Amaria began to absentmindedly dust the bottles, acting as though she had yet to see the giant on the floor.. or the cat that watched her with peaked interest.
~Dream sequence~
A deserted Island. The waves are rolling in gently and the Giant is asleep, his face buried in the sand. He feels the sea water against his hand and slowly he groans as he lifts his head – spitting out a mouthful of sand. The sun is blazing and overhead a seagull caws and seems to laugh. The Giant’s head is pounding from what could only be a hit to the head. He reaches around and rubs the back of his head to find a bloody big lump. The crash of the waves alerts the Giant that he has some how wound up on a deserted island. Coughing, he rises from the sand and staggers about unsteadily.
“Where the fook….?’ He stammers looking about only to see a maiden pouring out jugs and bottles of what looks to be rum into a blazing fire. For some reason, the Giant cries out. “Stop that!…You’re wasting the RUM!” The girl either can’t hear him and or is deaf. As the Giant lumbers up the beach, the girl turns around and its the same girl from the drinking game.
“Nice shirt….”
The Giant stumbles and then looks down to see…he is dressed like a pirate…frilly shirt and all.
“ARRRRGH!” The Giant screams in horror, to see he is wearing a horrid…girly…frilly…shirt. He rips off the pirate hat and struggles to take off the frilly shirt. “You…you bitch. You bleeding WENCH!” He stammers and screams till the pounding in his head gets worse….and worse. He sinks to his knees and starts to sob. “I’m a big Jessie!”
~End dream sequence~
Rousing slowly, the Giant’s hand slaps about in what is the split contents of his flagon. His prized stash of scotch has been split all over the floor. His head is throbbing, like there is not tomorrow. Groaning, he starts to sit up, only to feel a flimsy piece of cloth on him. He sits up and then his blurred eyes see the true horror of his failure to win the bet.
“THAT BITCH!” He roars. Yes, the girl was gone, and the frilly shirt left for him as was the terms of the bet. Pushing himself off the floor, he snarls as he holds up the girly shirt. “I ain’t wearing this!”
He then hears the sweeping of a feather duster as all sounds seem to be amplified. He was about to rip into the lass, only…it was not the same girl.
“Oi! You seen a weasel girl with itty bitty titties, that done left me with an empty flagon and a frilly SHIRT?!” His nostrils were flaring, and his right hand curled into a fist, the shirt now draping on the stone floor.
<3>
Of course, Amaria had to appear surprised. Her eyes widened slightly at him as stood at full height, her grip fumbling on the feather duster. “Ahh, wat iz it dat you are wanting?” Yes, act like you don’t understand. Another thought as she spoke inwardly. “I.. ah.. think your shirt iz vary intaresting.” This was her own personal jab towards him, and she had to hide a smirk. It was a struggle to keep the clueless look on her face, her eyes quite large even on their own. This form was more attractive, sure, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t less devious.. as far as he knew. God, this was possibly the best encounter she’d had at the mansion so far.. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. If she spoke a word that gave way little accent, it was still hard to recognize the voice due to the fact she’d raised her pitch a bit.
Amaria was absolutely enjoying his reaction. She couldn’t wait for when he realized his money was gone, but she still had no intention to let her identity be told. Soon she’d send him off on a wild goosechase, sure. But for now, she’d humor herself. Being a strongly built woman and in heels this time, she stood quite a bit taller than previously. Granted, not as tall as he, but a fair height.
Grumbling at the situation, the Giant held up the ridiculous puffy frilly shirt and made an icky face. Like putting it on would destroy his masculinity. There was one other in the cellar with him now. A woman who looked nothing like the girl he had lost the bet too. She claimed to not know about the woman he spoke of and that really she matched the description of many, when discussing small breasted women. Tossing the shirt down on the table that was filled with empty shot glasses, the Giant shook his head at the maid’s claim the shirt was very interesting. “On you maybe. Hmmph. Should be a law against this type of shirt.” He really…REALLY didn’t want to have to wear it. He was about to turn and walk out, when he noticed a certain jangle sound was no longer coming from his person. Duggie stopped dead in his tracks, and then felt around to wear he normally kept his coin purse. You guessed it, it was gone.
“I’ve been robbed!” The Giant yelled, now realizing that not only was this girl a swindler and hustler – she was a bloody thief. Duggie looked around the floor at his feet, only seeing the stain of the scotch she had poured from his flagon. Oh, this was bad….worse than bad.
This…was a declaration of War.
You could see the veins sticking out on his neck – all purple and reddish. His bulging eyes stared at the empty shelves that held the scotch bottles and he knew…he was going to be out for some time to come. It was one thing to make a bet, but another to steal from a drunken man. Horrible…evil plans started to formulate in his mind as he snatched up the frilly pirate like shirt.
He started to march up the stairs, off in search of the maid that had cheated him so badly. His voice echoing down the stair well.
“FE FI FO FUM…..I’M GOING TO RAM THIS SHIRT UP YOUR BUM!”
(thread change to….lol not sure)
Amaria stood, then pursed her lips to the side. “Actually.. perhaps a bath first… I stink of Giant..” Was she really insane to talk to herself? No, she supposed not. It was all the same, whether she kept quiet or spoke aloud. And hey – the last place anyone would look for her would probably be in the baths. Amaria walked out of the cellar then, a bit of a skip in her step accompanied by chuckles.
(Thread Change to the Baths. Rev – I think it’d be interesting for Roman and her to meet there since he knows about this and what she is, but she doesn’t know he does.)
