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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2023-11-15 01:50 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME 004

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.

THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the coming event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: spiders, animated skeletons, aphrodisiac effects, exhibitionism/voyeurism, bdsm, kink negotiation, knifeplay, potential dismemberment.

If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.

FAQSETTINGCALENDARRESERVESAPPLICATIONS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin.

Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born. As you sit up and get your bearings, aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember.

You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, is running actively despite the growing chill.

wildlife encounters
The longer you hike, the more unsettling sights await you: animal remains, some partially stripped of their flesh or discarded entrails left exposed to the cold. As you continue on your way, you might even swear you catch a glimpse of what appears to be a fully-formed skeletal creature observing you from a distance. Surely, that’s just your mind playing tricks on you... These creatures may be unsettling, but they show no signs of aggression to folks who keep their distance.


In the forest, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.

Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.

This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a grocer — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.

When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.



Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. It's already full of people who appeared in the village just as you did today.

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.


Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.


writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



RECUMITA

The festival fills the streets with dancing locals and all the stuffs of a street market. Despite the challenges posed by the snow-in-summer, farmers are grateful to announce that the situation is not as dire as initially feared. As a result, the harvest festival of Recūmita becomes a celebration of unity and gratitude to their fellow townspeople for salvaging an almost-frozen harvest, the Duchess' magic for protecting and reviving it, and the 'Void-Touched' who braved the Void to strengthen her.

Over the weekend, all regular work is put on hold, except for the necessary festival preparations. The streets come alive with vibrant stalls and stands, offering a wide array of delectable treats and refreshing beverages. From barrels of beer and cups of kvas to mouthwatering roasted meats, delightful squash-based dishes like pumpkin latkes, honey-glazed brussel sprouts on skewers, hot borscht in both pork and vegetarian variations, and tantalizing mushrooms stuffed with leeks, cranberries, and bryndza cheese, there is an abundance of flavors to indulge in.

The first day of the festival transforms the streets into a bustling night market, where shopkeepers organize an assortment of carnival-style games. Test your strength in arm-wrestling contests or challenge your pain tolerance in contests where individuals whip each other to determine who yields first, whether to pain or pleasure. In one corner, Terry's Rubean student sets up an unsanctioned fighting tournament, while in another area, a path of hot coals awaits the daring souls who wish to traverse it. Instead of traditional pie-throwing stands, knife-throwing stands attract participants who willingly become targets.

Enthusiastic Rubeans, particularly those involved in integrating the Void-touched, take it upon themselves to enhance the festivities. They recruit local participants and willing Void-touched individuals to partake in an impromptu stage performance, with no need for rehearsals. Come as you are and join the spectacle! Once the performance begins, the passion and excitement behind their efforts become truly evident, as all the performances call for explicitly sexual or violent acts to be performed together.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try entering the fighting rings, watching or joining a live sex performance, or eating some aphro food (deliberately or otherwise)!


the fathomless dark

At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.

In the void, the air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.

In addition to the spiders, you may come across the sharp-toothed furred yetis that emerged during the snowstorm, still looking for a meal. Each one hunts alone, a fifteen-foot-tall shambling creature that drips black ooze and super-chills the air around it until your skin feels tight and icy. If it gets the drop on you, you're likely to be its dinner. It has emerged from a long summer hibernation to enjoy the colder weather, and it's starving.

Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you — people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!


HIDING INSIDE EACH OF US

Uh oh spaghetti-os.

The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.


Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.

Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.

someone else transforms
Rubilykskoye's performance troupe is thrown into a state of panic as they make a shocking discovery: Vyanchaslav, their unofficial manager and conductor, has vanished without a trace! Vyanchaslav plays a crucial role in the troupe, overseeing small inter-troupe matters and having the final say on casting and rehearsal time. He is known for his reliability, making his sudden disappearance all the more perplexing, especially right before a major event.

The last time anyone saw Vyanchaslav was in their usual rehearsal space, just before a crucial run-through of their upcoming performance. His absence during that rehearsal was highly unusual, and it left the troupe members worried and confused. They are now frantically trying to piece together what might have happened to him.

As they search for Vyanchaslav, they notice a faint sound lingering in the air – the distant whine of a fiddle. However, there is something unsettling about it. As they follow the source of the sound, the room grows darker, and an eerie chill runs down their spines. Those who draw close enough to properly hear Vyanchaslav's song will feel inclined to dance themselves til their feet bleed, til their lungs give out. That is, provided they don't cut a devil's bargain with him first, selling something else to the devil in exchange for their freedom.

(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)


you waited too long
At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.

Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.

As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
ortolan: (Default)

Hannibal Lecter ⦁ NBC's Hannibal ⦁ Diabel

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-15 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)

In the Woods.
Waking nude in the forest is not something beyond the realm of his experience. Curious. He stands, reviews his memory, and tries to decide if this is some new, playful manifestation of Will's personality.

...and then the wind shifts and he catches the scent of creatures wholly unfamiliar. Like, but not-like. Either he gone mad in a dull (and therefor unacceptable) manner or his world-view has to alter to accept a new reality. Whether it is drugs, madness, or magic, the bite of the cold is real enough and that is enough to spur him on.

Following along the creekside, there are strange, dead animals and he stops to inspect a few and decide if its worth taking one of the sturdier bones to fashion into a crude shiv. Less than ideal to appear armed from the outset, but being unarmed is a greater threat - decision made, a femur taken and splintered to create a point, and then he begins to jog, following the flow of the water, and hoping that it will lead to somewhere warm and dry for the night.

Do you find him hunkered down in the woods? In a makeshift shelter, but with a passable fire?

Or do you spot him as he heads towards the town? Either way, his greeting is simple. "Hullo."




Boarding House.

Over-cooked parsnips can be endured, but dry pheasant?

"If you'll forgive the intrusion, I have spent quite a lot of time in a kitchen and, ah, --" He gestures towards the cutting board and knife. Please, please, allow him to salvage dinner.



Recumita.

It's a fascinating sort of society and Lecter thoroughly appreciates the opportunity to watch the locals at work and play. He particularly relishes seeing the 'Void-touched' awkwardly (or enthusiastically) participate. Here are a people that are familiar with public violence, and there are those who are not - repulsed, aroused, unsure.

"It reminds me a little of the magdarame of the Philippines. Do you know of them?"



OOC.

Want your own special starter? Have a wildcard in mind? Go for it.


poorlittlesange: (customer service is my passion)

boarding house!

[personal profile] poorlittlesange 2023-11-15 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Cooking is hardly Jin Guangyao's forté, though he is a quick study. He looks up from his careful consideration of the pheasant on the cutting board in front of him, then lowers his eyes and steps to one side.

"By all means, xiansheng," he replies courteously, then extends the knife out towards Hannibal handle first. He makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a self-deprecating little laugh, then adds, "This humble one is aware of his talents, and cooking is regrettably not among them."
ortolan: (attendez)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-15 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
With a faint nod of his head in lieu of a full bow, Hannibal takes the knife and tests the edge against his thumb. It is perfectly serviceable, but he could do better - to the whetstone and strop while they talk.

"As I am not aware of them, will you tell me of your talents?" Sharpening the blade so it will joint the bird as if it's butter, but breaking the breastbone causes a loud, moist crack. He hums and tests the give of the meat with the pad of his thumb and then starts to set up his mise-en-place. A bowl, a passable wine, mushrooms, carrots, bacon, mushrooms.
poorlittlesange: (thank u minshan c:)

[personal profile] poorlittlesange 2023-11-15 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
A very polite and diminutive shadow accompanies Hannibal towards the whetstone. Jin Guangyao watches him sharpen the blade, and (perhaps tellingly) does not flinch or demonstrate any outward discomfort to the loud crack of the bird's breastbone as it breaks. No, that only happens when Hannibal asks him to talk about himself. A wide-eyed look of surprise, a flush of colour to his cheeks, and he turns his eyes back towards the meal preparation currently taking place on the tabletop.

"Xiansheng is kind to ask," he says, smiling carefully, and spreads his hands to either side in an artless gesture. "My apologies, I--this one is unaccustomed to speaking about himself." A pause as he considers which of his talents are likely to be well received, and then: "Is xiansheng familiar with the guqin? It is a musical instrument, where I am from." He folds his hands neatly in front of himself. "I have been told that my playing is very good."
ortolan: (simmer)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-16 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
"If you wish, you may call me lǎoshī." Hannibal's knowledge of Chinese honorifics is not what it could be, but 老师 covers a wide range of meanings and it's less formal than 'doctor'. (He has a particular dislike of people who insist on being referred to as doctor in every circumstance.) "I also do not mind giving my family name, if that isn't too forward."

"I am familiar with it. I too play a stringed instrument, the harpsichord, but the guqin, ah, it pleases the soul, does it not?"

poorlittlesange: (i did crimes!! jk. a little joke)

[personal profile] poorlittlesange 2023-11-16 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
"Laoshi is not too forward, to suggest such a thing," Jin Guangyao assures him, and allows just a fraction of his deferential mien to fade as he considers Hannibal's profile. A strange and interesting man indeed, he decides, to be even passingly familiar with traditions so outside his cultural milieu. And the way he handles that knife puts Jin Guangyao in mind of another teacher from his recent past. (He directs his thoughts away from recalling how it had felt to kill him.)

When Hannibal speaks of the guqin the interest quickening in his eyes is genuine, as is the flicker of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "This one has seldom heard anything more beautiful than the guqin, when it is played by a gifted master." The way he says the words suggests he has a particular 'gifted master' in mind, but he recalls his manners abruptly and dips his head in a precise little bow. "Ah, my apologies--this humble one is called Jin Guangyao. And please forgive my ignorance, laoshi, but I have never heard of the harpsichord before."
ortolan: (simmer)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-16 01:07 am (UTC)(link)
"It is a stringed instrument similar to the yangqin or dulcimer; however, instead of hitting the strings with hammers, they are plucked with a quill." No matter the cultural associations, Lecter is always interested in the finer things in life. (Especially if it allows him the opportunity to be a pretentious twat.)

"I am called Hannibal Lecter. With my family name second, as in the Western Style." Just in case Jin Guangyao is not too used to that system.

As they continue to talk, Hannibal leaves the pheasant soaking in whatever white wine is most like a Riesling while he chops, peels, dices, and preps most of the rest. In a great show of benevolence, he offers the carrots to the other man. He is welcome to peel and cut them: "Disks the width of your pinky finger."
poorlittlesange: (actual project manager jgy)

[personal profile] poorlittlesange 2023-11-16 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
He accepts the carrots without hesitation when they are offered to him, and bows his head once in understanding. Again, Jin Guangyao is no chef, but he knows how to handle a knife, and it takes him little time to efficiently peel and chop the carrots to Hannibal's specifications.

Nie Mingjue had valued that about him, once. His efficiency, his undeniable competence, his attention to detail. His loyalty. (Once more, he tamps down that anger and sets it aside.)

"Lecter-laoshi seems to have many talents of his own," he observes as he finishes chopping one of the carrots and sets the neatly stacked disks aside. He reaches for the second and begins peeling it with careful, even strokes of the blade. "You are both a musician and a chef?" This he says with a nod to the elegant arrangement of ingredients and careful preparation underway on the table.
ortolan: (Default)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-18 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
As Jin Guanyao gets to work on the carrots, Hannibal watches him carefully until he's satisfied that it will be done to his standards. "I have had good fortune and time to devote to my passions."

"Primarily, I am a doctor. Once I focused on the body, a surgeon, but of late I work almost exclusively on those with troubled minds." As he continues to talk, he gets the bacon going, mushrooms and onions, all of it to slow cook down to a jammy consistency.
poorlittlesange: (still (: very calm (: (:)

[personal profile] poorlittlesange 2023-11-19 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
A surgeon? Discreetly, Jin Guangyao considers Hannibal's hands as they deftly prepare the remaining ingredients. It isn't difficult to envision that same care and attention to detail brought to bear with excising various afflictions from a human body. Contemplating such precision turned towards aiding those with troubled minds, however, gives him pause, though he masks it well.

"A troubled spirit can be as fatal an illness as a weak heart," he remarks quietly as he works; perhaps he speaks from experience.

He dispatches the last carrot and sets all the disks within Hannibal's reach to do with as he will, then peers into the saucepan with mild curiosity. The aroma rising from the pan is rich and savoury, but quite the departure from the thinly sliced carp, short-rib and daikon soup, or bitter melon he is accustomed to. At length, he asks, "How else may I assist?"
dualitys: (289)

recumita

[personal profile] dualitys 2023-11-15 10:15 pm (UTC)(link)
( the whole sight of it makes fp uneasy; he's not unfamiliar with violence but the sort he's used to always leads to something, has a purpose. a deal closed, someone taught a lesson. no one's meant to get off on it, no one's moaning like a cheap back alley whore as the whip cracks down on their skin.

he's not sure what to make of it, arms crossed over his chest. adrenaline can do a lot of things, he guesses. who hasn't popped an erection in the middle of a fight, knife held to another's throat.

he's startled when he hears someone speaking next to him, a man who looks too contained for all the mess of the place.
) What now? Never heard of them.

Are they into all this too? ( back home, the crazies normally come out at night and there's either jingle jangle or fizzle rocks involved. and they don't do this. at least not yet. who knows what the sort of things evernever's cult is up to. )
ortolan: (Default)

cw: violence, religious imagery, just, uh, Hannibal.

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-15 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"They are Christian Filipinos who show their devotion to God at Easter by recreating, or reinterpreting the passion of the Christ." There's a particularly loud crack of the flog against the back of the latest participant. That will leave a mark.

"I believe that the most well-known among them has had himself crucified for the last thirty years running." Only for five minutes at a time, but completed with four-inch metal nails through his hands and feet. "Quite a few pierce their cheeks with bamboo or metal skewers; a practical not in the Bible I am familiar with, but I suppose one must make do."
dualitys: (297)

[personal profile] dualitys 2023-11-15 11:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah, FP's not drunk enough for this. "Yeah, I'm going to need a drink after hearing all that."

That has him looking around, trying to see if he can spot someone bringing around ale like he'd seen earlier. "There's got to be a better way for them to show their devotion."

Then again, two kids recently killed themselves to show devotion to a figure from a tabletop game that's been getting people killed for decades. FP remembers playing that game, what it cost. He shudders, looks back up at the demonstrations. "Whipping's probably easier."
ortolan: (Default)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-16 12:12 am (UTC)(link)
"Perhaps, but to the man caught up in religious fervor? Perhaps not." Hannibal thinks it's a bit silly to pin it on something as utterly nonsensical as 'God', but there's something to be said in favour of blood and love.

"Consider this: most of the magdarame tie their acts to a promise of some sorts. You don't need to answer me, but is there nothing that you wouldn't risk that pain for?"
dualitys: (015)

[personal profile] dualitys 2023-11-16 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, to each his own." Someone passes with drinks and FP grabs a glass, glances at his companion with a quirked brow. The man doesn't look like he's a beer guy, that's for sure.

He has to down half the drink in one go at that question. "Yeah, I've done some pretty messed up shit for the people I care about."

For people he doesn't care about too, actually. Not for promises, though. FP's shit at promises, shit with keeping to his word and better in action except. Sometimes it bites him in the foot immediately, but he thinks he's doing better in the long run. He did better than his old man, all things considering. One of his kids still talks to him.
dynatox: (terry // 015)

recumita

[personal profile] dynatox 2023-11-15 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"I've heard of them."

Terry's not particularly religious, but as a seasoned masochist he is familiar with a wide variety of painful rituals. Bruises and healing cuts peek out from beneath his clothing right now; he's clearly been participating in the festival.

"I can see the comparison."
ortolan: (so witty)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-16 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
Hannibal looks towards the other man and smiles slightly. He's always pleased when someone else recognizes that he's right - because he so regularly is correct.

"And are you enjoying yourself?"
dynatox: (terry // 004)

[personal profile] dynatox 2023-11-16 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh, yes. This is exactly my scene."

And in public without judgment, at that. If it weren't for the lack of modern amenities he'd be right at home here.

He offers a hand in greeting, "You must be new around here. I'm Terry Silver, and I run the fight club if you ever need to blow off some steam."
ortolan: (Default)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-18 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, well.

With a slight incline of his head he accepts the offer and shakes hands. "It is good to meet you, and I've never been one for fighting. Too long working in a hospital and seeing the messy results of that sort of thing gone awry."
dynatox: (terry // 054)

[personal profile] dynatox 2023-11-19 05:55 am (UTC)(link)
"I understand. I was a pacifist for a while," he says, "But there is a need for it here, lest we end up facing something darker than a fistfight gone wrong."

And also because pacifism was boring. Now that he's dipped his toes back into the world of violence he's not leaving.

"You're a doctor, then?"
missedith: (pic#16773878)

in the woods

[personal profile] missedith 2023-11-17 09:54 pm (UTC)(link)
It's the fire that calls her forward first. It's so dark out that it's hard not to be drawn to it like a beacon. As she approaches, it's the man who pulls her feet further to step into the light. She's still entirely nude, there's nothing to do for that out here unless she decides to gather up some leaves and pretend to be Eve. But she's seen no apples, so that wouldn't do at all. Drusilla is thin, almost too thin that she looks like she might break when faced with a stiff breeze. Her porcelain skin shines against the flame's flicker.

"Hello," she calls back when he greets her, her Cockney accent thick even with the simple word. Drusilla smiles, giving him a small curtsy. Manners. They are important, aren't they? There's a bit of a knowing look in her dark eyes like she knows a secret she's not telling, "I'm so very cold... may I sit with you?"
empathicfault: (Open and Honest)

The Woods

[personal profile] empathicfault 2023-11-17 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
The voice that responds is warm and extremely familiar. "Hello, Hannibal."

He had been approaching from the shadows, because one doesn't start out naked in the woods without being put there by someone. And that meant that he should be exceedingly careful about who he talks to. But coming across Hannibal in the same state has made him reassess the situation, somewhat.

He approaches the fire with a relaxed gait, holding a dead squirrel by the tail in one hand and a sharp, chipped rock in the other. He crouches down, sets his trophies to his side, and warms his hands. In doing so, he has his back turned to this man- his friend, his family, his monster. "I can't say I expected this, when I woke up this morning," he admits mildly.
ortolan: (Default)

[personal profile] ortolan 2023-11-18 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"Neither did I, and yet, here we are." Generally, words like 'warmth' don't apply to Hannibal, but even so, as his face turns towards Will there's something new in his expression and tone.

"What is the last thing you recall?"
empathicfault: (Can't Talk Yearning)

[personal profile] empathicfault 2023-11-18 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Will is silent for a long moment, raising his right hand to stare at the back of it. "...black blood. Crashing waves..."

He turns back to look at Hannibal, heavy-lidded eyes watching the other man's face. Is there recognition there? There should be, but a lot of things aren't as they should be, right now.