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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.
FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS
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.
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.
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!)
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?
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?
no subject
He settles with his back against the rock wall, one leg drawn up like it might provide modesty. Astarion hesitates, but makes himself speak eventually:]
When you finish with that, sit over here.
no subject
Or a tie to home, someone that he could relate to and understand in a shared experience beyond this one. Perhaps he meant it when he said he needed the rogue.]
Quite an invitation. [But one he took regardless after tossing some kindling on top of the cheerful little fire. Easing down at Astarion's side, just close enough to brush arms, he mimicked the other man's sitting position, one leg curled up, one stretched towards the fire allowing the heat to travel up his leg.]
I'm not going anywhere. [Of all the things he could say to soothe the rogue, put his mind at ease, this was what came to mind.] So you're stuck with me, not entirely sure that's a positive for you, but good taste is acquired.
[His head is tipped in Astarion's direction still trying to maintain what he could of his positive energy. It was made easier now that his trembling wasn't wracking his entire body.]
no subject
Darling, I promise when I ravage you it will be on a mattress. Or at the very least a nice bed of moss or something.
[That said, Astarion closes the scant space between them so that he's pressed up against Gale's side as much as he can be. He isn't as warm as Karlach, but he isnt' entirely lacking in body heat, either. Enough to be convincing for most people, anyway. And while he might be able to endure this (he has, and worse, but he won't think of that now) there is no point in making Gale suffer it. Not when he needs those hands steady to make somatic gestures. Not when he needs to speak without chattering teeth to cast whatever he can. He needs Gale.]
Let that keep you warm a while and ponder my good taste.
no subject
What required very little consideration was the fluttering in the pit of his stomach and how frustrating it was that the rogue was able to inspire such a reaction so effortlessly. Though he could attribute it to exhaustion and his defenses being much lower than they would have been.]
When makes it seem as though you've given the ravaging more than just a passing thought. Do you have a confession that you would like to make, because I'm all ears?
[Well turnabout is fair play and if this is Astarion trying to yank his chain he can play along. The good humor is welcome at least, so is whatever warmth they can siphon, both from the fire and from one another, for the time being. Opening one arm he drapes it over Astarion's shoulder, this and the softest bit of earth they could find would do, though there was a part of him that wished he had enough energy to create a small pocket of reality, a bed, a warm room...just for a night.
But this would do.]
You are incorrigible to the very last drop.
no subject
Please, as if you haven't. I would wager everyone in camp has thought of it at least once. Even Lae'zel. [Astarion's very confident in that bet, in fact.] But for your edification, yes. I've thought of how I might bed almost everyone. In the same way that I wonder how you all might taste.
[Some he's thought about more than others, but that's neither here nor there. He sleeps half as much everyone else in their merry company of weirdos and so that means he has time to kill while everyone else is resting up.]
no subject
It's too bad there isn't a broom at hand to sweep up the shattered pieces of my youthful dreams.
[Could he possibly be more evident in his gibing? It's hard to tell, but he is doing a good job feigning hurt while suppressing a chuckle.]
For clarification my thoughts have been filled with only one being until recently. [Though how recently does seem a bit vague and it does sound awkward in retrospect.] A very cheeky person whose endeavored to keep me incredibly busy, it's hard to think about anything else at all.
no subject
Astarion lifts a brow and shifts back just enough to get a better look at Gale's face. And then he looks affonted.]
You aren't suggesting I'm demanding, are you?
no subject
Those charms were all the more striking when his face was closer to his line of sight than he's ever been. The draw is almost magnetic, as if those glossy red eyes have some kind of pull, how sharp and piercing they could be, but they could also be wide and inquisitive.]
I thought I was stating it outright. [His tone was lower, more graveled than normal, and it took him a moment to realize he was close enough to taste Astarion's breath. It took him another moment to realize this might not be entirely appropriate and he had to blink away the fog in his brain, drawing back at the last second only to feel the back of his head bump against the rocky wall.]
Tch...ach...sorry, that was entirely inappropriate.
no subject
You have no idea, [he murmurs, voice pitched lower like this is pillow talk and not a conversation happening under a rock outcrop. But then Gale retreats quickly enough to knock his head against the rough stone behind them. Astarion, however, does not give up the ground he's gained.]
Entirely, [he agrees, but his voice remains warm, tempting. Promising.] Thankfully there's no one else here to call you on it. I certainly won't.
no subject
Is that an enthusiastic yes, because if it is then I'm certain I'm going to kiss you. [Even as he's saying it he's drawing Astarion back to him, ignoring the fact that his head is still throbbing as a reminder that he should behave himself.] Please say you want that just as much as I do.
no subject
Rather than giving an immediate answer, Astarion's fingers curl and tip Gale's chin up. His thumb brushes just below his bottom lip and a kiss follows. It's light, barely there, but it certainly seems like an open door. He draws back just enough to see Gale's face and lifts a brow.]
Is that clear enough?
no subject
Gale should be clever enough not be taken in, but somehow cleverness and wisdom didn't seem to matter at all, and experience be completely damned to the hells.]
It's painting a picture. [Though a part of him wanted to hear it, there was another part of him satisfied enough with that answer to pull Astarion close, cradle him in the crook of his arm, dip him back and devore that inviting mouth with his own. It's nothing terribly obscene, experimental kisses, molding his lips over the rogue's, gently mouthing him, feeling him, embracing his body. Like slipping into a warm bath he closed his eyes and waded into the innocent sensations, every now and then chancing a glance just to gauge Astarion's reactions, but he was entirely content with his companion's weight, the breathy noises, his own soft panting between kissing and gulping down air.
This was enough.]
no subject
It's easy after that to relax into it, and when Gale pulls back enough to check on him (sweet thing), to look at him, Astarion can give him soft smiles and tender affection to reassure him. Gale kisses like a man who has been starving for it and there's something rather compelling about that - about feeling wanted like that. Astarion finds himself just as breathless between kisses, and it's nothing to press closer to Gale, to make sure their bodies stay together. They are trying to keep warm, after all. And if this helps get his companion's blood pumping that's all the better.
His thumb strokes along Gale's cheek the next time they break apart to breathe and a smile creeps across Astarion's face.]
There you are, [he murmurs.]
no subject
--but being the lover of a goddess opened him to vices as well, disadvantages about his own sexual and romantic appetites that were difficult to synthesize. Things that could make him unyielding or disagreeable, for someone so generally amenable.]
Looking for someone? [He murmurs against the curve of Astarion's thumb and wrist.]
no subject
Mm, you. The man behind all those anecdotes and near-lectures. [Astarion smiles, looking utterly self-indulgent despite the fact that they are on the cold ground only gods know where.] I knew there had to be more to you. Even if you brushed me off.
[Astarion's gaze drifts lower and his hand follows until his fingers brush over the dark, wispy lines curving up toward Gale's neck like smoke. Neither of them can really hide the worst parts of themselves, as it were, when they are left so bare. He finds himself wondering if it hurts and decides not to ask. Not now, not here. Perhaps not ever. Not when Gale is pleasantly breathless with warm cheeks. Not when he seems to be enjoying himself with this distraction.]
I suppose we all have hidden depths.
no subject
That was...hasty of me. [He managed through a shaky breath, realizing that he certainly had dismissed Astarion as little more than crude and self-serving. Perhaps he was, but if today was anything to go by, it demonstrated that the rogue was more, he volunteered himself for the frontline, if something happened Astarion would have been the primary target.
He was arguably a comfort, not just physically, but in his verbal sparring, still sarcastic, but something about him was less cutting and more playful.] It wasn't my intention to make you feel repudiated and I apologize if I did.
[he watched Astarion through the warm haziness of his own contentment, watched the rogue as he traced along the lines of his orb, not just a mark, but a scar, burn, or however one wanted to view it. It had a texture that left an indelible brand. If asked, Gale would have said that it hurt occasionally, though mostly when hungry, but he felt it all the time, like a phantom...whether it was truly impacting him or not.]
I'll not let it slip my mind again that there's a universe inside of you, Astarion. [With one hand he smooths silvery curls off of his companion's brow before dropping a kiss on his forehead]
no subject
And he won't think of that right now.
The gentle press of warm lips to his brow is another sweet gesture. Astarion tips his head so that their mouths meet in another kiss. He has no idea what will happen between here and--wherever they end up. But he does know how to keep up morale and Gale looks terribly content - a far better state than they found each other in. And he must admit that it's gratifying to hear Gale apologize. Perhaps he is the better man - Astarion isn't sure that he would.]
Though I like the idea of being on your mind.
no subject
As for vast and empty, perhaps this is where Gale and Astarion were of different minds, and not surprising. A universe was not the endless void one might expect, but but a girdle of life and everything, of worlds beyond counting, beauty beyond reckoning.
Perhaps it was hard to conceptualize in the dark places Astarion had been.
When the rogue engages his lips once more for a kiss, he returns with the same gentle innocense they were playing at, wanting to pet and taste, touch and familiarize, but careful not to get too lost. Not out here, not so unguarded, but between the fire and Astarion's body and attention this was more than the warmth he required. He wondered idly if Astarion would stay here in his arms, without tents and certainty of their surrounding.]
Do you now? Well there is our little connection, unpleasant as it is, you're on my mind with surprising frequency. [Terrible. It's an awful line, but Astarion pushed him into it.]
no subject
Was that a reference to the bloody tadpoles? I should demand you make that up to me.
[They really shouldn't get too carried away, he knows that. Not here, anyway, when there is a forest full of things that can do terrible things to carcasses. Astarion would like to think he's fierce enough for some of them even in this state, but he's also determined to survive. His lips brush Gale's neck and it immediately feels like a mistake. The man's pulse is strong beneath his lips and so near the surface. Astarion knows it would take nothing to pierce the delicate skin keeping it from him.
Instead, he offers a gentle, restrained nip - enough to tease but not enough to even bruise. For good measure, his tongue flicks out to soothe the little red mark left behind. He's quite certain Gale's blood would do him no good. It might even do him active harm. Somehow, that doesn't make it less tempting.
He blames the cold.]
no subject
Difficult to say and it was difficult to care about witch it really was or if it was any of them at all.]
Spot on, it absolutely was a reference. [And instinctively he tips his head to the side, giving Astarion access to his throat, not really thinking about the consequences of offering his neck to one who thirsts for blood. Not really thinking about the poison in his blood as a reason for abstaining, not really thinking about much at all beyond the presence of smooth lips against warm skin, the hint of teeth against his humming pulse point, the caress of a tongue on his flesh.
He inhaled sharply, steeling himself against an intense way of arousal shooting through him and lighting up every one of his senses, attuning them to the fixed point that is Astarion.]
Ah...and how would...you demand I make it up to you exactly?
[Anything to take his mind off of how adolescent his body seemed to be reacting.]
no subject
Hm... putting your mouth to better use comes to mind, [he murmurs, keeping his voice low and soft. The comment probably doesn't help Gale to take his mind off anything at all. Astarion knows he shouldn't let them go too far, there's too much uncertainty but gods... it is a little tempting.] Maybe you'll think twice before making another terrible pun.
[All right, perhaps it wasn't so egregious as a pun, but Astarion is hardly interested in debating semantics. Gods, hopefully Gale isn't either.]
Do you really want to leave yourself in my hands, darling?
[Not helping at all.]
no subject
Transference. To venerate something new and beautiful, familiar and singular, that looked, smelled, and tasted of Faerun and the vestiges of wonder that clung to him. Why not Astarion? Why not for a moment?]
I would promise to think twice before making another terrible pun, but we both know I'll churn out another one eventually. [Gale allows his gaze to wander now, along curves and angles, planes of ethereal pale skin stretch over flawless muscle, the intriguing dusty rose contrast of Astarion's nipples, delicate and yet Gale knew there was hardly a delicate bone in the rogue's body.] I'd hate to exhaust you of ideas for punishment so soon.
[Dipping down the mage dusted soft, slow kisses along Astarions clavicle, their current vulnerabilities and concerns a thought for the future.]
Mmmhmmm...[A small soft hum of assent before drawing back just enough to turn his gaze upward.]...unless you want to begrime your hands with someone more prosaic. That would be a choice.
[And Astarion didn't just leave him into the woods, he could have darted off without him, could have used his elven and vampiric gifts to disappear without a trace if he wanted. He didn't and it was the little things that engendered Gale's trust and their present situation that inspired Gale's passions.]
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Do you really think you could exhaust any part of me? Should I try to disavow you of that notion, my dear?
[He tries to remain aware of their surroundings. He doesn't trust even their hiding place, and he doesn't trust that they are safe here with fire or with magic. They are too exposed. But Gale's passion is compelling and Astarion breathes a soft sigh. His fingers tighten in Gale's dark hair to pull him into another kiss. Being worshiped might be lovely, but--]
Or should I be the voice of reason? [he asks, softer. It's not a position he often finds himself in, especially with his recent streak of hedonism. He would say that usually falls to Gale, actually, and if they weren't hiding behind a fire in an unfamiliar place he might be content to leave that to the wizard. Astarion keeps his gaze on Gale's face as his other hand slides down his chest. His touch follows the wispy lines that define the presence of that orb. Then he goes past that, calloused fingertips brushing the other man's stomach.]
Or... do we just stop thinking all together?
[Without further warning, Astarion pushes against the ground to roll them, landing with the wizard on his back and the rogue leaning over him.]
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For that briefest of moments there was a cold shard of sadness and a spike of fear, but the emotional flux vanished, dragged into another kiss, fingers tightening in his hair, how could he really think about anything else for long. Another kiss, transcending the playful ones of before into something that was hungrier, more fierce, but still experimental. No hints of tongue, clashing of teeth, the only attempt to reign in what little they could on their reign of control. Something Astarion promptly brinks up and Gale merely blinks back at him owlishly.
Thanks for reminding him of their precarious predicament, it gives the Wizard pause and he glances beyond the fire and into the pressing darkness recalling the feeling of eyes. It pulled him from the sheltered warmth of the fire and Astarion's irreverent presence.]
Perhaps we should err more on the...ouf-
[A sentence and a thought Astarion clearly prefers he not finish as Gale finds himself rolled onto his back, his roguish agility taking the mage off his guard. Once the slight spinning in his head stops he offers Astarion a clipped, breathy laugh. Reaching out Gale flutters his fingers over the curls now hanging in his companion's face, securing the most unruly bits behind a delicately pointed ear.
A vampire, a predator, dangerous and unpredictable...but also beauty in a new celestial form. He should be reasonable, he was intelligent, but wisdom could be persuaded to elude him. With Astarion hovering over him it was all the more tempting with more skin at his fingertips and instinctively his palms smoothed their way down his sides resting on narrow hips.]
You're terribly distracting, you know that?
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Perhaps he's earned being called unpredictable, but surely he's earned some trust. He hasn't killed any of them in their sleep, after all. And he didn't slip away when he realized it was Gale he'd found here in the woods. That counts for something, doesn't it?
With a soft sigh, he lowers his weight until he's resting more comfortably (for him, anyway) on top of the wizard - between his legs, if Gale thinks to move them. His fingers brush along Gale's cheek, following the line of the bone. This probably won't help anything, but he does feel a bit more in control this way. Not that he was lacking it before, but--well. He's not on his back anymore.]
I'm told it's one of my better qualities, in fact. Were you about to say that we should err on the side of caution?
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