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agonzovi · 9 months

Text

[3] Dawn in the rest

our girl flusters so hard she becomes nonverbal. and also, White:)

(---)

Whitney settles in her velvet stool for her daily ritual.

(Daily? It was 3:20 AM. The sun doesn't rise until it's 7:23.)

The vanity mirror she was facing revealed a bare face free of dark cosmetics. Tracing over the lipstick's intricate design with her thumb, as she always did— she feels the embezzled jewels—shining enticingly in her peripheral vision, but even so, her eyes remain glued to its reflection.

She twists the cap with care, and pops it open to reveal glossy obsidian. Putting it to her lips, she slides the wax tip on her upper lip first starting from the left side. And then repeats the motion making certain to emphasize her cupid's bow. Her lower lip only gets one solid swipe until rose pink becomes charcoal black.

She ends this mechanical process with its signature pop, satisfied with her work, Before she moves on to the next step.

Perfect, Methodical, and Flawless.

This was her routine, done everyday as her first milestone from waking.

She opens her vanity desk in habit, Being able to immediately pull out an eyeshadow pan whilst looking straight into her own irises.

There's no hesitation as her hands manuever it open and reach for the brush on her stand, dusting it against the first pan on its left side— coating the fur in the same powder ink the rest of the pallette is uniform in.

Focusing mordantly on her eye make-up, she starts with her left eye, relying on several past routines of muscle memory and earned skill.

She finishes this sacred routine with precise swipes of translucent powder, each stroke controlled and memorized, sinking into the familiarity as the powder brush glides across her fa—

knock knock

The brush darts down her cheek with such force it runs off her face fully. Wrist tensed in place beside her, her head does not move, but her stare breaks and is placated to the door.

“Am I right on time?”

Teeth gritting, she glares into the carved oak like it's wronged her. She places the brush back into its place in vanity, her throat burning at the unsolicited interruption. Fucking bitch.

“You were 23 seconds too early.”

“Apologies, I'll add 23 seconds to the 30 minute wait.”

The bass voice behind the door speaks with a monotone nonchalance— and yet she can still hear the snark behind it.

“Nevertheless. Come inside.”

The brass knob clicks and twists, the door-hinges silently creaking in the person’s entrance.

She twists in her seat to face him, making sure he sees her face full of black intimidation.

Clad in a black suit with an Indigo Bowtie, Whitney guesses there is another meeting Vorsano has to attend, And her face scrunches with dissaproval already laced with irritation.

“Agnesius has invited us to an event, it would be unwise to go without you.”

“So you’d like me to accompany you?”

“Obviously.”

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, hands clasped together in her lap as she narrowly stares at him. “When is the event?”

“Today. Before Noon.”

Her schedule feels completely violated now. How was she going to prepare herself for an event so sudden?

“Today!? Sano. You know I am strict to adhere to my schedule, I have 3 things planned today!”

“97 less than you usually have planned. Of course.”

“Un—fucking—believable.”

Whitney hears Vorsano scoff in amusement, “Look at you, even dropping the accent to get your point across.”

‘You'd be suprised the things you could get away with if you sounded nice.’

“You couldn't inform me of this event yesterday? God, there must be an invoice before you drastically alter my day like this!”

She's aware she sounds more infuriated than her usual theatrics, and hopes Vorsano doesn't pick up on it.

“It is not my fault you have to make your brain chemistry completely redo itself before an occasion. But this event is important, we've skipped too much and they are tailing us.”

“Sure. Vorsano.”

She cuts eye contact, and stares back at herself in the mirror.

“I am sorry for disrupting, I'm aware it means alot to you.” His voice is lowered this time, he's absolutely noticed that she's upset.

“You make it sound like a sentimental thing, I simply do not wish to be disturbed unless I'm finished.” Huff.

“..You gave me 30 minutes. I was very precise with those 30 minutes.”

“30 minutes and 25 seconds then.”, There's a sharp sass to her words. The apology did not fully redeem Vorsano yet, it seems.

“I recieved Agnesius’ invitation around midnight. I was also startled to see that a letter this important would be sent at such ungodly hours.”

She rips her eyes off herself, and looks at him with her head this time, lips in a short frown. “Fine. Damn Agnesius and his stupid invitation.”

Marital issues.

(---)

From what Yannick remembers in her drunken state, Bonnie said this town was called Serma. Pretty big place, famous for it's trade import system with fruits. People come here for smaller jobs, or use it as a place to stay for a bit while on a journey— Apparently, it's a landmark when you're on your way to large cities with way more opportunities (if you're rich enough.)

Ribs still sore and bruised, Yannick makes sure to be careful with her motions. And by careful— she had just crashed into the dirt after climbing up someone's roof and then getting chased off by some burglar rat critter she did not want to be dealing with. She doesn't know what they're called.

So now her elbows are skinned, along with her knuckles. That's fine.

It's still dim, shades of blue coat everything in a navy overlay and the only illumination she's getting is the ambient light from the town and the moon.

Without her bandana, cold air bites her neck like the sun hasn't tamed it. Yannick settles for a logical solution, opening her leather sling to illuminate it's contents with the moonlight to search for an item.

She found it. The rusty lamp she used the other night, she dives for the cigarettes right beside it and selects one from the paper roll she's wrapped them in. Nice.

The cigarette's end glows wistfully, and she places it in-between her lips. Currently, she's in an empty dirt lot that's situated at the back of some buildings, and it's fairly desolate here. (if you count the masked rodents burglarizing the trash.)

The pain in her abdominals are numbed by the chilliness around her. There's a gust of wind that entertains her cigarette-end as it blows by and her smoke trails the direction of the wind. She observes the stars and how they are eerily defined in the full moon.

She reaches for flask she's situated in her pockets— filled with the content’s of the alcohol she snagged from the bar. She takes one big gulp and brings the cigarette to her lips again.

“Yani.”

The speed she whipped her head at the direction of that voice could only be fueled by homosexuality and alcohol.

Oh shit.

“Bonnie?”, that came out sounding very pathetic.

Yannick collects herself and tries to use a composure that doesn’t make her seem like a pathetic barmaid-pleasing gal.

Bonnie is hooded, a dark blue shawl coating her shoulders. Yannick can barely make out Bonnie’s face from the provided shadow; but she can make out a very faint ‘o’ on her lips.

they stare in silence for a moment and now Yannick's not cold anymore—she just feels uncomfortably warm and awkward.

Her eyes divert from Bonnie's face as she takes another smoke of her half-cigarette. ‘Is it me or did this burn away too fast?’. She's sweating in the cold.

As she turns her head away, socially unsure of what to do and selecting to just freeze up and hope the assumed threat goes away, Bonnie is facing her back and she can feel her gaze staring at her every detail. For Some Reason.

Then she feels a familiar coarse fabric wrap around her neck delicately.

Bonnie ties the motion up with her cold fingers feathering the bare of Yannick's neck.

“They ripped this off you, correct?”

Yannick is too scared to make eye contact, she can practically feel the warmth radiating off Bonnie's body from behind, SHE'S SO CLOSE—

she inhales, deeply. “Yes.”

Bonnie hums.

She's not sure what Bonnie thinks, because technically she just beat up some guys infront of her at her job and she might yell at her or or she's upset and going to insult her to her facs but she's not and that's even scarier and woman why are you so hard to read—

“That was attractive.”

oh.

Bonnie settles closer, half behind her and half beside Yannick and Yannick can barely make out her unhooded face staring at her in her peripherals and oh god she hasn't made a sound yet Bonnie probably doesn't think she's attractive anymore because Yannick doesn't know how to talk to people and fuck—

Bonnie's fingers are lightly tracing Yannick's injured cheekbone.

And then fully settles on cupping her jawline.

“I saw them manage to land a few hits on you.” Bonnie said deeply. So close to her she can feel warm breath on her ear.

Yannick musters up enough courage to face Bonnie, they're centimeters apart and Bonnie looks absolutely stunning under the moon. She realizes she's abit taller than Bonnie and her frazzled homosexual mind makes a distinction between the stars and the freckles on Bonnie's face. Fuck.

“I'm alright.” Yannick states, trying to distract herself from Bonnie's pretty face. Bonnie does a slight head tilt, eyes narrowing at Yannick as if she was observing every facial muscle to see if there was a lie. And no, Yannick was not alright.

Bonnie's other hand is flat against underneath her ribs. And Yannick's breath hitches when cold palms and a hot body meet. The hand traces up weightlessly, caressing. Bonnie looks at her unreadably with half-lidded eyes.

And then her hand travels a particular spot and Yannick jolts in pain.

“You have no self preservation, do you know that? Your braveness is alluring but very stupid.”

Well, atleast she thinks her impulsivity is braveness. Yannick supposes that's one way to interpret it.

Bonnie's hand travels down her waist and rests on her hips. Yannick's breathing had gotten all shaky from all this holding. Touch-starved much?

Yannick is embarrassed, flustered, and gay. And decides to face away from Bonnie again because she might explode if she stares at those eyes for too long and so she places the cigarette inbetween her lips. The hand on her jawline falls to the broad of her shoulder.

“So adorable when you're timid.”

The hand on her shoulder is absent. Bonnie removes the cigarette from Yannick's mouth as she stares with her brows furrowed. And then she watches as Bonnie places them inbetween her own lips and takes a long drawl of her own.

Yannick is absolutely destroyed.

“I didn't take you for the smoking type.”

It took her all her willpower to not stutter.

The cigarette sits betweens Bonnie's two fingers, and to her suprise— Bonnie laughs.

absolutely divine.

“Nobody does.” Bonnie smiles at her, before returning the cigarette back into Yannick's mouth. Yannick's going to die like this.

#bellow diamond #white diamond #carbonado #black diamond #cowgals #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe future #su au #steven universe #suf #su

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agonzovi · 9 months

Text

[2] Dawn in the Rest

holy shit yellow gets to meet blue now haha i sure hope it doesn't end in a self indulgent wreck that I didn't suffer writing through oh golly.

(---)

Yannick glared at the steed with such ferocity it would have converted it to glue if she tried hard enough.

But she didn't want to, and she didn't need to give Mrs. Davis another reason to behead her. Right now, she was tipsy and really needed atleast some sort of civilization hospitable enough to take her in for now, but even that was proving to be frugal in barren sandscape.

Wine bottle in one hand and hat in the other, Yannick slicks her dirt-blonde hair back before dusting off her hat and readjusting it to her crown in manner so that it doesn't fall off as easily.

The white mare snorts at Yannick's misfortune, its velvet halter overlayed with the shades of dim under the blanket of the rising night. The horse noise was met with a withering glare that could only come from somebody who's ass came in impact with the ground at gravitational force.

And, as if the mount was challenging her, its head dropped to Yannick's eye level, tilting in a manner that said, ‘what will you do about it?’

“You’re funny thing aren't you? letting me ride you off as an escape and then proving you have your owner's personality. Just so you know, we're going to suffer the night’s cold if keep throwing me off.”

See, if talking to an animal you stole whilst slightly drunk was odd enough, it had quite the personality. The horse then proceeded to shove her and walk off idly.

“You little—”

Her grip on the lead rope tightened, but instead of halting the equine, she was dragged by the arm she was holding its lead with, like some cursed folktale where some horse carries around a dead body with a winebottle in its hand. Its actually impressive how the alcohol hasn't spilled a drop yet.

This horse and her is proving to be equally challenged in being stubborn, but in this state where she's not as sharp she'd usually be, the horse was winning this battle of wits because she was letting it drag her resigned figure.

Well she was resigned, until the surface beneath her transitioned from dusty fine sand into small sharp-

“ROCKS! FUCK!”

okay, now that woke her up, she sprang up from the ground and had let go of the lead, seeing in the dim night she was intentionally led into a small patch of rigid pebbles that was so proportioned to be avoidable and now she resents losing Jasper.

back hurting, and hat disheveled, she feels her spine in an attempt to soothe the stings, and then sees the horse staring at her blankly as if it was amused, “You smart little shit.”, she spat, the mare breaks eye contact and flips her mane at her and Yannick REALLY, really regrets losing Jasper.

At this point, the tipsiness wears off, and then Yannick still downs the rest of the wine anyway. Which—really wasn't much, as she had discovered that yes, the wine had infact spilled many times in her predicament; Maybe she might've been slightly more than tipsy.

Well shit, now we really need to find a town now.

Preferably with a bar.

The moon was full. Enough light for Yannick to survey the inventory in her leather sling. She picks up a lamp, the frame rusting but otherwise usable.

“I can't believe I'm negotiating with a fucking horse.”

‘Shithead’, as she had named the horse, was looking at her with the most doe eyes a horse could do. Well— more like looking at the apple in her hand; which she definitely didn't steal a few hours before her altercation with Mrs. Davis and forgot about in her bag. Shithead tilted it's shit little head, a horse so majestically big it was dwarfing Yannicks height and yet it was still staring at Yannick like a sat puppy.

“Okay, here's a deal, you take us to a town where we can settle down for a bit, and I give you the apple, okay?” un—fucking—believable. She wasn't even under the influence of alcohol anymore and she's still talking to an animal that has further anthrmorphised itself with proven intelligence and a name. It wasn't a very good name, but It still applies.

The mare sprung up so fast Yannick was suprised she didn't get shoved and die; because well, look at that thing, its full height is a few heads taller than Yannick's full height.

It's tail was carried high, with a posture that giddily anticipated for her to saddle up and sHITHEAD EVEN LEANED DOWN AND PUT THE LEAD ROPE INBETWEEN ITS TEETH TO OFFER. WHAT THE FUCK MRS. DAVIS.

“Holy shit, uh— thank.. you..?”

Just as she had only just gained a firm grip on the reins, Shithead immediately went off to gallop, sprinting off so fast Yannick's hair escaped her hat and it was trying to attack her eyes.

With the speed of this Mare, Yannick swore her soul couldn't catch up with her body and got left behind. Strong equine legs moving so fast across the night horizon in a .. strangely controlled manner. Did this horse know where it was going?

Yannick couldn't confirm anyway, her front hair was still trying to find real estate property within her eyelids, and focusing on not losing your hat and being blinded simultaneously is pretty hard.

Soon the galloping pace decreased to a rate where Yannick could control her wild hair, ripping off her hat to her chest and letting her short locks flow behind her and not in her face.

She immediately sees a blur of warm light in the distance, and sees a very sizable town she hasn't ever seen or drifted through before. A glimmer of hope.

(---)

When she means glimmer of hope, she means walking into a loud warm-lit bar and seeing cheap brandy immediately displayed. And who was she to reject not obliterating her liver?

She left, uh, shithead to a local stable that immediately took her in because the stable master was in awe of how majestic and beautiful and gorgeous her horse was and— ‘really hope the news of a stolen horse doesn't reach them.’,

“And what's the name of this absolute gem? Look at her! she adores apples!”

Yannick was never good at social situations, nor was she good at making shit up.

“Uh, Shi— Horse. Yeah. Horse loves apples alot.”

The stable master just looked at her strangely before moving on back to marvel at shithea— Horse? Then he insisted that he'd take care of her in the meantime for free because ohh what an honor to have such a beauty like her to end up in his care—

Alright enough kissing horse-ass. Yannick did not need or care to remember the awkward encounter fully and frankly she just wants to purge it from her memories with alcohol.

As she walks through the rows of shabby tables, She adjusts her hat so her eyes are caught underneath its shadow, a precaution to avoid any stares of drunken rowdy men whose attention she'll catch. She sets her eyes on the cracked brick floor until she reaches the counter.

There's nobody there yet, but she sees a gold bell near the side and presses it, She slides over the cool surface of the wooden barstool and settles her hat in her lap, untying her bandana and flattening her collar.

“Well, you're new here.” a soft but smooth voice says behind the varnished wood pub table.

Yannick makes eye contact.

It is instant regret as her face heats up so fast she feels like a walking bomb fuse.

A pretty lady staring right at her with blue piercing eyes hiding away behind ebony hair, locks frame her face perfectly and holyfuckingshit her plump lips are stained maroon and freckles pepper her dark skin generously.

Alright, calm the fuck down.

“Name, dear?”

Yannick steels her fluster, and refocuses on her main objective to abuse her liver, opening her mouth to answer and realizing ‘huh, revealing my identity would be pretty fucking stupid.’

“Ya—uh—Yani.”

good fucking job, if news ever arrives of a short-cut blonde lady with a hat who's named “Yannick”, she definitely won't notice. idiot.

“Charming name. What would you like?”

Yannick thinks this is the first and only time so far she's ever liked having her name asked for.

“..Brandy.”

The lady hums in response, Yannick glues her sight and tries tto trace the wood grain under the varnish, but she can't help but have her gaze wander,

The Lady grabs a bottle from underneath the pub, expertly grabbing a glass from a holder simultaneously. Moving with swift familiarity, she places the bottle down and grabs a cloth that was apparently on her and starts wiping the glass in fast motions, clearing away beads of water with one long swipe around its surface, her slender fingers move up to hold the glass carefully by the mouth to also, tediously wipe its short stem. Using two fingers controlling the cloth, the lady skillfully dips it into the inside of the glass and “FUCK.”

The barmaid stops what she was doing halfway, she looks concerningly at Yannick— whose forehead had kissed the pub table passionately— with a small upturn of lips and furrowed brows. “..Are you alright dear?”

“YES! I mean—yes, very alright don't worry.”

‘FUUUCK.’

Well, at least it was said silently this time, That was Yannick's fault, she observed and let herself wander,

Now her heart's racing and she's embarrassing herself in front of the pretty gal whose name she doesn't know. Already beet-red and hadn’t even drank the brandy yet.

She feels the barmaid's gaze linger unto her crown for a period of time and she's kinda glad she slammed her head into the countertop so she doesn't have to see that. After an extended amount of time, she can hear the barmaid resume in doing her job—which she got stupidly flustered about.— and Yannick drones out, focusing in the gruff laughter of men behind her and the drunken ranting of other people.

“Here's your drink, Yani.”

‘fuuuuck.’

the barmaid settles her glass in front of Yannick gently, it lands with a soft clink and Yannick holds it with a grip that has the intention of fully forgetting everything dumb she’s done for the rest of the night.

Yannick says thank you and pays— way more than the price the alcohol was up for and way more she'd usually spend. She's not sure if it's because the lady's so gorgeous it's making her tip this generously or if she's trying to compensate to her for being a fool.

“So, what has you visiting around here, Dear?”

Yannick doesn't want to admit, but she's been consciously counting how many times she's been called ‘dear’ in that sweet honey tone tonight. and she's been way more conscious than what's supposed to be not embarrassing.

“I'm just a drifter, miss.”

“You can call me Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?”

“Mhm.”

“It's a pretty name.”

“It sounds pretty good coming out of your mouth.”

Remember when Yannick was destroying her liver? Well, she's also destroying her lungs now too, who knew inhaling alcohol burns.

And also she's coughing vigorously.

“Oh dear, you poor thing, let me get you some tissues.”

Strike 4.

Bonnie moves swiftly as Yannick is busy expelling the insides of her lungs into her hands, how fun.

She takes the tissues when they are offered in front of her (with a very conscious effort to not grab Bonnie roughly; and also memorising the feeling when both of their hands slightly brush.)

Her lungs burn, her throat burns, And she forces her spluttering into a stop, Yannick really doesn't want to embarrass herself further at this point. and just mumbles a shy thanks, AGAIN.

Now, she doesn't want to assume—she’s never talked to a woman. Because there's really no time for that when you're a habitual crime-doer, But for her own sake she'll force herself to think that that exchange of words was completely normal between two women.

completely normal, between two women.

another soft clink.

“Oh, what's this for?” Yannick stares at the newly refilled glass of brandy.

Well, she did technically inhale her first drink instead of actually ingesting it like a normal person, but still.

“On the house, darling.”

‘FUUUUCK.’

similarly with her ‘dear’ talley, that's her 4th exasperated totally non-homosexual ‘fuck ‘from Bonnie today. Wait— Let's reword that.

That's her 4th completely homosexual absolutely gay fuck from Bonnie today.

much better.

There's a lot of things Yannick notices as she downs her 3nd glass.

Bonnie speaks like her tongue is covered in melted sugar, her voice is smooth like ivory and her eyes are narrowed like a hawk sifting below the landscape for prey. Perhaps, Yannick is just on the verge of being drunk and she gets weirdly poetic, or perhaps Bonnie is just, really, extremely, absolutely gorgeous.

When Bonnie talks to her about the history of this town, How she's explored every alley and backside, How she's familiar with the locals and the places little know about, it feels like Yannick's being spoiled with divine information; or was that just Bonnie's voice? She's not sure.

Another thing she's also noticed, is that she’s getting bolder the more she drinks. Her usual personality that doesn't mirror the reserved display Bonnie had seen earlier starts to really show when she nearly barks out clever retorts to Bonnie and is further encouraged when she hears the angelic song of Bonnie's laugh.

the melody is cut short when a group looms beside Yannick.

It's a group of men.

They posture like they demand Bonnie's attention, chuckles like gravel among eachother. Bonnie idly stands infront of them, the wooden countertop dividing beauty and asshole.

“5 glasses, the usual.” A Man with dark hair leans on the counter, there's smoke escaping his lips as he speaks, And his face is way too close to Bonnie's to be comfortable.

“I don't know your usual.”

Bonnie replies, deadpan.

The group howls like a pack of rabid wolves, they're laughing at the man, who was really trying to make it seem like he was impressionable.

“Nice jokin’, Missus. I've been here lots of times before, ya’ really can't remember what I usually ask for? I'll give you an extra dime if you get it right. But looking at that pretty face, I bet you get lot's of those already..”

brazen laughter rings above the bar’s loud ambience, Bonni’s expression remains cool as ice and monotone. Yannick has realized how hard her own hand is gripping the glass of little brandy left, It might shatter.

“Mister, It’s not that hard to say what you'd like.”

Bonnie says, flat.

“C’mon dollface, no need to get so mad. What gotten you so pricked? Before we arrived you were giggling to goldie over here.”

“her corsets probably too tight.” somebody behind the group blurted. The laughter is even louder this time— Yannick’s eyebrows hurt from how much tension is in them. Bonnie still looks unfazed.

“I know somebody who could loosen it for her.”

They all guffaw cockily this time, and Yannick decides; the glass WILL shatter.

dogfight.

She got kicked out and landed on her ass. Again.

theres a nick in her cheekbone she's sure will bruise, and she has alot of aching ribs. But that's not what's making her feel bad, it's the fact she embarrassed herself infront of the pretty lady again, to a much more severe extent.

She beat the shit out of all them, yes. But a one person fight versus five jacked men doesn't mean she comes out unscathed.

She forgot her bandana too, and she shattered the glass Bonnie gave her into some guys temple. Yay property damage.

Luckily, she has the hat and the sling. And before some guys dragged and threw her out, her hands managed to snag an alcohol beverage from a random table. Hasn't been opened either, Jackpot.

She's staring at the brand on the bottle, her bruised fingers wrapping around its neck, it's too dark to read.

After getting kicked out, Yannick did some loitering (writhing in pain) around the front of the bar, she never saw those douchebags get kicked out. Which means Bonnie probably had to serve them; or worse, deal with them bugging her about some man-looking gal beating the piss out of all of them and Bonnie apologizing for something she did

‘Yeah, I was never really good with people.’

Bonnie was nice, but Yannick would rather hide away into this town's crevices now; She really doesn't want to get into an altercation for walking around freely in public.

in a few hours, Morning will rise and she'll have to go and collect shithead to get resources.

#cowgals #white diamond #bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe future #steven universe #su au

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