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Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME 001
⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
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: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.
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Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.
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.
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
This log additionally has warnings for: nudity, spiders, waxplay, character death, and references to children in proximity to sexual situations.
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. For the first round, this test drive serves as characters' arrival into game.
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.
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.
AWAKENING IN PAJAK WOOD
The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest warmth of the sun. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the daylight has taken on a sickly green tinge. You lie amongst the mosses and ferns, the 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.Fortunately, you seem to be alone. The birdsong continues 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. Amongst gnarled oaks and moss, you see nothing around. No sign of civilization or sentient life. Movement flickers at the corner of your eye, but it's just a curious animal — brave squirrels or lizards who have come to see what stirs in their home.
Then, like the rippling of the horizon at noontime, the ash-gray soil around you undulates. Sea, not earth. Something else has come to greet you — their grey bodies blended in so easily with the floor, but as you stagger to your feet, you see them. Thousands of spiders roll like waves underfoot. They crawl towards you from the darker edge of the forest.
attack
Individuals who attack the spiders will find the small spiders are easy to kill, but the pheromones released by their corpses draw larger spiders in their place. 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 will attempt to use their webbing to handicap 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.
hunt
Any aspiring monster-hunters enterprising enough to try to follow the spiders to their nest will move eastward. This way, the forest grows darker and darker — though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset.
In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, 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. Soon, you cannot move at all.
Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.
In the void, the birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs, but soon it is impossible to see. Even with the brightest magical light does not reach further than a few inches. The air grows heavy and thick, 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. Soon, you cannot move at all.
Turn back while you still can — collapsing out here is dangerous. The void can play tricks on your senses. You may find yourself reliving unhappy memories or hallucinating your worst nightmares.
But flee the spiders westward and you will discover that the wood is well-populated with the survival resources that someone might seek — berries bushes and trees bearing stone fruits; sticks and dry leaves to aid in the building of a fire; rocks big enough to fashion into crude weapons; small animals that can be hunted or caught; hike long enough, and you might just find the freshwater stream that runs north-to-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads.
What's more, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist hiking parties, others may still be naked and confused and processing how they have no memory of how they got here. They all stagger vaguely, as you do, with only the sun for a waymarker — and even that won't last long.
Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty, as it's going to be a long hike. If you sneak a good look at your new companions, you may four varietals of marks on their bodies. Maybe someone will even point out that you have one, too.
EVERY DAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE
Hike far enough — or long enough that the sun does go down — and signs of life come into view. The glow of fires and lights, the smooth curve of a stone wall. A town sits at the edge of this wood, a reward to the survivors.The fifty-foot wall of beige stone protecting the town's perimeter has only a single entrance — an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people into town from the winding dirt road. Attentive eyes may note that the road itself bears the mark of many wagon wheels and horse hoofs, but not cars.
guards
The guards grant entry to anyone who attempts a conversation with them. However, if your character is more likely to attempt to sneak in, overcome the guards, or attack them, please reach out HERE.
Inside the wall lies a quaint, historic town with a population around five thousand. The streets are cobbled, and their signs are 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 bank — 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.
No matter what time you pass through the gate, the streets are full of people. The climate of the bustle befits a night market or a busy friday downtown — plenty of people to ogle at your exposed body. But despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, the locals don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. In fact, the further into town you go, the more you may notice that they all wear revealing clothing that, to your sensibilities, may seem sexually suggestive. Some individuals openly expose their breasts and nipples, while some others may incidentally reveal when they turn around to tend to their errands that their dress is backless — entirely! If anything, they seem to be under the impression that you're naked to participate in the evening's events with the rest of them.
Those still determined to find proper clothing will find that modern clothing stores aren't a thing here. The closest this town has is a tailor's shop, which is closed for religious observance, and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.
Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! The locals will gladly share what they have with those who ask politely — but those items are as revealing as what they're wearing. You might get a mesh bodysuit or drape outfit. Remember not to be ungracious! it's only appropriate for the occasion.
steal clothing
Anyone unwilling to ask nicely for help could break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry. Notably, inside their homes, the people of the town also appear to own some more modest apparel. Be sure to alert us HERE if your character pursues this option.
And what is the occasion? The locals are excited and flattered by any interest in their ordinary weekly prayer: the folks dancing and selling their wares are all offering their energies to give thanks and ask for their god's patronage! The abstractions are all familiar — fertility, harvest, peace. Smalltalk makes them eager to chat and draw you into those festivities — including some ceremonial wax-dripping on the exposed parts of your body!
Anyone who chats at length with the townspeople will gather that the locals feel it's better for the newcomers to dive into the deep-end because, since you'll be settling in here, they expect you'll want to participate down the line. They seem to be under the impression that the new arrivals are a boon from their god.
In addition, many of the locals' choice of clothes reveal the same four types of marks on their bodies as the folx who were wandering out in the wood!
ROOM AND BOARD
Once you're tired out, the locals will help you find a place to stay. The boarding house is several stories tall and spacious, accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines. 
Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage.
The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!
Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.
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.
Beyond the overgrown yard is a bright red door, which opens into a spacious cottage. The house has clearly been empty for some time — dust has gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. According to the locals, it has remained empty since its last occupant passed away, and that's all they'll say about that!
Each floor of the house has a shared sitting room, but only the first floor has a kitchen — large enough to support feeding the entire household. Here, a few of the townspeople will help out — they stock the kitchen and help make dinner for the new arrivals.
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.
Ianthe Tridentarius | The Locked Tomb | Diabel
Unexpected. Inconvenient. Irritating.
Ianthe would dwell on the implications of what it took to get her to wherever here was later. Observe, adapt, and deal with the matter at hand... which was a lot of spiders, her own nudity, and an intense thanergetic signature to the east. Well, that was where the spiders were heading. Time to see what was drawing them.
Unconcerned about the spiders, Ianthe headed eastward into the darkening wood. Along the way, she paid enough attention to any larger thalergenic energy signatures so none could sneak up upon her, but she was multitasking. The nudity was going to be an issue, and with no clothing in sight, she was going to have to make her own. Or some facsimile thereof.
She needed bone - bone that wasn't from her right arm that was already skeletal, as she wasn't sure if that would regenerate like the rest of her body would. Ianthe was a little vain about that arm and the memory that was associated with it. Ah... she needed to not get distracted by the delicious heat and pain and agony and intimacy that came with that. No, she needed bone from elsewhere.
With a grunt of pain, Ianthe reached down to her kneecap and dug her fingers into her own flesh. Quickly extracting the bone from her body was child's play; the skin, muscle, tendons, and ligaments peeling away underneath her touch as though she wielded a scalpel. Blood spilled briefly down her lower leg until she pulled the kneecap free, and her lyctor regeneration rapidly closed the wound up and rebuilt the missing bone, connecting it properly, so the only evidence something had happened to her knee with the blood upon her skin.
"Good boy, Babs," Ianthe muttered to herself as she turned the bloodstained bone over in her hands and flexed her knee to make sure everything was in place. Her bone magic was... adequate at best, but she'd seen Harrowhark manipulate bone and add it to her body more than enough times to separate the bone into two, draw it out, shape it, and fasten it about her body to fashion a kind of bikini of bone. It was far from the elegant garment Harrowhark would make but it would do and, to be fair, it wasn't as if anything would really flatter her body; she wasn't the hot twin, after all.
Bone bikini made, Ianthe wiped the remaining blood off her hand onto her thigh and continued eastward. By the time she arrived at the edge where that thanergetic signature was coming from, some spiders had hitched a ride on Ianthe, but she didn't care. She only had eyes for the Void.
Stopping short of entering the unfathomable darkness, Ianthe grinned at it. "Hello there," she said, reaching her normal arm out toward it as one would the cheek of a lover. As tempting as it was to go closer, the Void reminded her too much of a Resurrection Beast to be drawn into it. At least for today. She'd study this phenomena for a while before going back the way she came in search of civilization.
[Weekly Prayer]
This town was a bit on the ancient side, even further back in manner than the time of the Resurrection. Even the Emperor's old music was cutting edge technology to what Ianthe could see in the town. Moving through the town, she was able to charm a young woman into giving her a pair of sandals, and soon was approached by some enthusiastic people both concerned and fascinated by her skeletal arm. Hoping that her participation in their prayer, dripping wax across the exposed golden bone, would beseech their god to help heal, Ianthe saw an opportunity.
"Such prayers for me are unnecessary as I am Prince Ianthe Naberius, the Saint of Awe, and God's Right Hand. He has sent me to walk amongst you and observe your pious ways, so that I may aid in adjusting any indiscretions," she proclaimed boldly to the small group around her. It was hard to tell how many of them bought her bit seeing as she had the mark of the diabel partially visible on her buttcheek (she didn't know it was there), but some seemed to take that as an invitation to stoke their reverence and prayers to a higher level, drawing her in with enthusiasm to participate.
With one of the candles in her skeletal hand, she turned to a participant next to her and took their hand in her normal one. Wax dripped up the person's exposed arm to the shoulder and down along the clavicle. "Praise be to the Undying King," she murmured, eyes flicking up to meet those of her current partner.
[Roomies]
Precious time had been lost trying to get into the castle. These people didn't understand her importance and how insulting it was to expect her to shack up with all the other people. She deserved a proper room in the castle, a private audience with this Duchess, and some damn answers. None of these were forthcoming.
When Ianthe finally came to Boarding House, she gathered herself a plate from whatever was left of the food and quickly found that she couldn't find an empty room all for herself. Well, fuck.
"Get out," she demanded of the person in the next room, as though her order would be followed without question.
Weekly prayers
"I can't help but overhear..." He said, head turning so it was apparent that he was looking at that skeletal arm even though his eyes couldn't quite be seen.
Yet the question that came out of his mouth was instead, "Are you a prince or princess?" Because, hiding one's gender wasn't a possibility when the other person wasn't exactly well covered up.
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"Technically both," Ianthe responded after a brief moment. "I am one of the two Tower Princes - the only one that actually does anything, by the way - but before my ascension I was the Princess of Ida." A beat. "Still am, though my current status far outranks my father at the moment."
She turned his arm so she could drip the wax back down is arm, this time along the more sensitive underside. "But if what you're really asking me is if I'm a man or a woman, flesh is just flesh. Bodies are nothing more than skin, blood, viscera, and bones, and titles are just politics."
She switched the candle from her bone hand to her other, then moving to rest the golden hand against his cheek as she stared into those dark lenses.
"Identity lies in the spirit, within the soul, and I am definitely a woman."
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But that skeletal hand, that was incredibly intriguing and much more interesting than titles he had never heard of and an explanation of the meaning of gender.
It was very much where his attention was captured, although his gaze flickered back to her face even though his head was turned to the hand -bones- against his cheek. How did she even control that? There were no tendons nor muscles attached. His gaze behind his glasses flickered to double check along that bony arm and nope, none of that.
He grinned, masking over slight creep of discomfort at such an unnatural touch, and took a smooth step back. "Couldn't agree more. Princess then, I'm glad we got that figured out. So what brings royalty to these lands... and you wouldn't happen to know the location of your diplomatic visit, would you?"
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"This is just an outlying planet we've been stewarding into the Dominican Empire," she said as though it should be obvious. "There've been insurgents interfering with our efforts to save these kind of planets from obliviation, and I'm here to ensure they don't find a foothold." She offered the still burning candle to him should he wish to take it and be on the other end of the wax dripping.
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you...?" Her tone indicated that she was expecting a name from him.
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He probably shouldn't grin if that really was the case. Not that it wiped the grin off his face yet. Honestly, it was too early to say that was the case, but he'll accept that as a possibility. Further investigation required.
Catching onto the inquiry, he helpfully supplied, "Hei Xiazi," which would automatically translate into the Black Blindman with the weird lack of language barrier going on, "But people just call me Shades. But nope, absolutely idea. First time visiting, lovely foreign culture. Very interesting worship."
He eyed the way she held the candle out and hesitated a long second or three before sticking out his bared arm. "Sure, yeah, why not. When in Rome..."
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"Do you prefer your name or the nickname?"
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Awakening
He was absolutely not expecting to push through some clinging branches and find the person digging out their own kneecap to fashion it into a set of underwear. He's seen a lot of things, and punched bloody holes into plenty of things, but this was a wholly new sight of gore that made him, well, gag audibly.
And in lieu of anything useful to say when attention inevitably gets drawn to him, the only coherent thought to come out of his mouth in the moment is, "Wouldn't've been easier to just go naked?"
Easy for a guy covered head to toe in fur to say, but still.
((Hope it's okay to reply mid prompt, they can still travel to the void, but seeing a bone dug out is too good too pass.))
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The thalergenic signature she sensed mid-patella removal approached too quickly for her to bother stopping the extraction or even care if the person saw. Let them see and fear her, a part of her said. Another part was pleased that she could show off some of her power. The rest of her was just amused when she heard the gagging.
This was easy was what Ianthe intended to say as she secured the bone about her body and turned toward the speaker. Instead, she blinked her eyes in surprise and said, "You're a talking animal." If not for the thalergy she could still sense from the creature, she would've thought she was hallucination.
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He wasn't her target. The wave killed all the spiders within the radius, the thanergy of their deaths was immediately captured by the lyctor and repurposed to animate all those expired but intact spider corpses. With a completely unnecessary flourish of her bone hand and a twisting of her fingers toward the giant talking animal, all those dead spiders righted themselves and rushed at him far faster and more coordinated than the creatures had been moving pre-death. Ianthe was going to make them climb up his body if she could get them there before he could react.
"A necromancer is a master of life and death, able to command it and the energies surrounding it, reanimating the dead but also manipulating the flesh and bone of the living. This is child's play, Dog." That was the closest thing Ianthe could think of what kind of animal this being was; Ida and the ringed gas giant it orbited around didn't exactly have foxes. "Shall I make your ribs tear themselves out of your chest next or are you going to explain to me how you came to be?"
The larger red-colored spiders starting to descend from the trees in defense of the fallen smaller ones wasn't registering to Ianthe as any kind of a threat yet.
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hi
He shoulders through the crowd to Ianthe and her waxy new friend — wearing a short toga wrap that isn't exactly modest, but conceals what it needs to. Given his recent grief period Ianthe has probably seen him in worse states of undress. He looks tired, but not like he's running a galactic war, more like he's been sleeping naked in the forest for a bit.
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His state of dress was an insignificant factor; he could be naked for all Ianthe cared if it meant he wasn't drunk on the floor, bawling his eyes out or any of the other ways he had been acting over the last six months. It was pathetic, seeing an all-powerful man come undone over the spilled blood of traitors. So what if he knew them so personally; Ianthe has practically grown up with Naberius and she hadn't shed a single tear over him. She'd tell him to get over it but was afraid he might explode her it a fit of grief for doing so. It was a sad state of affairs but at least the Emperor looked more... put together than he had since Seven had caught up to them.
It was always disquieting how unassuming he came across unless flexing his power as the Necrolord Prime. But if he didn't want these people to know he was the god she spoke of, Ianthe would play along. Using the Third House charm and grace she rarely bothered with, Ianthe redirected her current partner to another so she could see to another 'supplicant'. Only then did she give the Emperor her attention, beckoning him in as though he was just some John.
"I like your openness to the prospect. Praise be to the Undying King," she said to him, still playing her part. She leaned in close, dripping wax across his exposed chest, and continued to speak in a low voice that wouldn't carry beyond the two of them.
"There's only so much I can do with these people until I know why you brought us here. And I'd like warning next time you decide to drop us into the River. I've spent hours on whether your other half was capable of throwing me in." Obviously the Emperor would know by now that Alecto was awake.
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"Praise be to the Undying King," he echoes, keeping the amusement from the lines at the corner of his mouth.
The Saint of Awe is only his ally for so long as he serves her, has no innate loyalty but to her sister and to power; but what she responds best to is feeling superior, in control of the situation. She does her best work when someone pathetic needs her: as with Corona, and then with Harrow on the Mithraeum. He has relied heavily on that these past few months, drunk and grieving and giving her free rein. Fancy title and all the might of his empire in her gilded bone fist.
So John does not take immediate and relieving command of the situation — but he also doesn't risk asking her about Alecto. "It is not by my power that we're here," he says, because any lie to the contrary would pop like a soap bubble within the day. He doesn't know where they are or how to leave. His dark eyes are urgent, expression just slightly beseeching. "If we're in the River then it's not in a way I understand. Though we might be deeper." Would he recognize hell, after all, or all the unresurrected souls he's entrapped there?
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Though now she was back to the Alecto theory that the Emperor apparently wasn't going to clarify unless Ianthe asked him directly. He's lucky she won't do so right in front of all these people. But still, mysteries that even John Gaius didn't know... what an opportunity. And how utterly terrifying. It was invigorating.
"I'm going to be very upset if I pulled you from that just for us to end up there now," she replied, eyes narrowing. "Though..." Her expression changed to a more thoughtful one. "Have you been to the far east through the forest? Where it gets dark and the spider are called." That impenetrable blackness they call the Void here was harder to sense now that she was in what passed for civilization here, but it was still out there.
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He pauses, and it's clear that even with his voice low the others around have noticed his serious demeanour is at odds with the atmosphere they're supposed to be cultivating with this wax, all playful reverence. There's sideways glances, hushed words exchanged, meaningful looks as the movement of the group changes to get closer to their conversation. And he gets the impression the townsfolk are wary of discussing the void, let alone mapping its borders, so he stops from saying what he was going to say. There will be time enough for planning, away from these strange souls.
"We'll figure it out later," he says firmly to her, authority clear in his otherwise mild tone. "Might have to go easy on the Necrolord-Emperor stuff, these folk seem pretty entrenched in believing something else." And despite his earlier joke he doesn't plan on positioning himself as competition since he's well aware of what a danger a month of fanatics can be.
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Her eyes flickered to those closing in and considered what she could do to redirect them away, but then the Emperor decided to rein her in. "As you wish," she replied. "Some of them were more interested in looking at my ass than they were listening to my words anyway." Ianthe still wasn't aware that she had the mark of the diabel.
She offered the candle she'd been using to him in case he wanted to go play with the sheep surrounding them. "Have you seen any other familiar faces here?" Like Coronabeth.
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roomies, how could i resist
And she wouldn't have gotten up for anyone else who talked to her like that, either.
It's possible it's not really Ianthe, and just someone who sounds exactly like her, and feels like the exact same kind of nothing a Lyctor feels like, after all. She doesn't move to look up. (Her face paint is smudged and worn, and that is only one reason. Deep fatigue is the other. Harrow does not care about anything enough to raise her head right now.)
"You get out if you want to be alone so much."
That one, Harrow will regret if she is actually speaking to a stranger. She wants to be alone, but if she's going to sleep beside anyone at all, the most familiar person possible has found her. This is a tiny glimmer of blessing knit in with the elaborate series of curses.
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Wait. Wait. Was that really-- It cut straight through her fury with a tightness in her chest. Thank fuck, Harrowhark wouldn't be able to pick that up.
Closing the door bought enough time for Ianthe to force her heart's brief palpitations to settle as there was no mistaking that form curled up on the bed. She'd seen Harrowhark do this time and time again on the Mithraeum. The knot of fear that had been tightening in the pit of her stomach from the moment she found herself in this place loosened a bit with Harrow finally showing up. Tardy as always...
"I suppose I'll allow you to stay," Ianthe said as she sat down on the bed Harrow was currently occupying, leaning back against the wall by the other lyctor's feet. In fact, she let her leg brush a little against Harrow's to let her know she was actually there. "Half a year of blissful solitude without you in my bed," she continued, setting the plate down on her lap so she could start eating. In truth, the fact that Harrowhark had felt some degree of safety in her room meant far more than Ianthe would ever let be known.
"I'll get used to it again."
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She would not need to be in Ianthe's, nor Ianthe in hers, but close enough is close enough, at least for right then--at least while nothing much made sense, one thing did. This person, Harrowhark knew, and she did not want to feel safe with or feel she truly could, but--she knew just how much she could or could not trust Ianthe Tridentarius.
Provided this was, indeed, her Ianthe the First, and not some other. The shifting and twisting and tangling of worlds and universes has given her a headache for far too long.
"Meaning," just in case Ianthe had missed it, "that you are actually on my bed."
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"And exactly where I'll stay while I'm eating," she replied with a low chuckle. "I'll consider moving once done. Until then, Nonagesimus, sit up. I haven't seen you with these eyes in months, except for that brief moment in that damned Tomb before waking up here."
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She doesn't let the simple words go.
"Have you seen me through other eyes?"
Just in case.
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"Aside from the ones I was born with, I did see you while I was riding Babs' body on New Rho. The Seventh Resurrection Beast made a personal visit a bit difficult," she said, setting her plate aside and leaning forward to take a good look at Harrowhark's face. She even went so far as to grasp at her chin in order to make the other lyctor meet her gaze. "You were quite unlike yourself there... as though Blood of Eden had fucked you up somehow," she murmured.
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