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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-02-07 11:31 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME 005

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ 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 any 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, aphrodisiac and truth serum effects, public nudity, exhibitionism/voyeurism, bdsm, kink negotiation, social pressure, and animal sacrifice.

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 reemerging after a long winter. 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, will lead people towards the first signs of civilisation, the cabins of those who choose to live beyond Rubilyskoye's formidable walls.

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.

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.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time asking questions in the common areas. 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. Maybe you'll get lucky and run into someone who has decided to move out? (Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements; at this point, many characters have used activity rewards to move to accomodation outside the boarding house.)


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 a breakfast of thick grain porridge and caramelised bananas from the new peaks; these NPCs can also answer any questions about the situation. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. Gossip about new arrivals spreads quickly, and Rubeans who run businesses or train trades 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, being offered work, asking questions over breakfast, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



HEARTS FESTIVAL

New arrivals to Rubilykskoye will find themselves strongly encouraged to participate in the current zadza purging festival, and will be assigned either a collar in leather or iron based on their Niez or Wilk mark, or a wrist-strap or manacle that suits the attachment of a leash for those with a Diabel or Skala mark.

Characters are encouraged to embrace this temporary designation as a sign that they will be good citizens; those who object or ignore their designation may find the NPCs try to helpfully guide them, express displeasure at "Void-Touched" who won't assimilate, or in rare cases exert social pressure, coercion, violence or shunning to ensure compliance.

Throughout town various NPCs have set up tents and booths to host myriad performances, workshops, demonstrations, and food stands for their celebration. The foods were made using some of the new flora that have brought back from the peaks. Characters can get their hands on the following heart-themed foods from the second day of the festival onwards:

  • HEART-SHAPED COOKIES: eating these intensifies body heat, making characters a great cuddle buddy for the cold weather and likely to strip down, feeling overheated even in a snowdrift

  • BEEF HEART STEW WITH DUXELLES: eating these fills those who consume it with confidence, making them more solicitous and dominant

  • LIME-GLAZED GOAT HEART SATAY: eating these intensifies sensation, making characters more sensitive to both pain and pleasure

  • CINNAMON GLUWEIN: drinking a cup of this hot beverage will make characters especially honest

The nature of the booths set up for performances, workshops, and other goods focuses around the festival's dominance and submission themes. These persist throughout the day regardless of the hour or the audience, so very few people can be found consistently at their places of work during the day this week. In addition:
  • Skala and diabel NPCs may offer to share their partner(s) with the Void-touched, or ask to share theirs.

  • PIOTR, a farmer, brings tools over from the farm including bridles and saddles, which can be found at a booth near some hunters who've made anal plugs that end with real animal tails, as well as muzzles.

  • The cages from the Moot Hall have been moved into the streets, and people are allowed to move freely in and out of them. One of them has been covered in curtains to function as a glory hole booth.

  • Some niez and wilk NPCs line up near the main event stage and kneel to offer themselves as human furniture.

However, characters may also come across some carnival games operated by NPCs who are eager to help the Duchess find her heart! Some involve slaughtering livestock by removing their hearts—rest assured, these livestock were already on the menu, but their ritual sacrifice will now involve the cutting out of their hearts. Cut out an animal's heart yourself, or just attend the show! Many of the townspeople will get into it, painting their faces with animal blood or drinking from it.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try reacting to being assigned a dominant or submissive role, scenes where your character is starting to feel the effects of the food, watching (or participating in) a performance, or joining in on a gory animal sacrifice. NPCs that are usually welcoming may strongly pressure even new arrivals to participate in their cultural festivities.


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.


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
Poor Merta Chesnokov, the usually stalwart older woman who mans the Apothecary, has been beset by unusual requests in addition to her regular demands, not to mention sweating blood. The festival, a rash of skala blood flu, and a little extra town chaos in January, has brought a high demand to her little shop. Now there's also a local fashion springing up for teas and herbal remedies sourced from the recently revealed tropical mountains.

After another failed tisane test drive, and the third customer asking for a new kind of aphrodisiac to add to their festival food, she was seen tossing down her work knife with uncharacteristic frustration, and taking an "early lunch" that she didn't return from that night. Though her children, friends and employees reach out to her, there's no sign of her until you stumble upon her in the woods.

Merta overboils with her suppressed fury as her body distorts and her flesh blackens and crusts. Her attempts to hold off her transformation have failed, and Merta turns into a Smoldering Skink, a large repillian creature whose thick scales hold back her magmatic insides. The noise she makes is an unhearthly hissing scream like a boiling kettle, and she attempts to vent her pent-up stress by wildly attacking everything in sight. Immediately, the surroundings catch aflame! There will be a small fire eating at the dead wood of a long winter if it's not put out, but your first priority might have to be fielding a stampeding lizard with massive teeth and burning hot scales...

(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?
vibration: 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 (pic#16386061)

roomie

[personal profile] vibration 2024-02-07 11:16 pm (UTC)(link)
No if's, no but's, no and's, this room is hers now. Matt doesn't bother arguing, maybe too tired from the trek here, maybe too overstimulated from all the new sounds. New smells. Her breathing is a big one — the rustling of her skin against the bare sheets of the bed, another. It feels like knives on his, but Matt lays there, complacent, gaze angled blankly up at the ceiling.

"Haven't got any complaints so far." Then again, Foggy never had any complaints about Matt's sleeping habits. Maybe the company he tended to bring, yes. Eventually, more tired than he means, "I promise I won't make a sound."
princess_of_ida: (48)

Network

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Lucky for you - or unlucky, I suppose, depending on your perspective - She Who Sings the Ocean to Prosperity is currently here. I'm sure you'll be hearing from her momentarily.

[Using a name no one would know if they hadn't heard it from Gilia herself? Necessary to counteract the bristle.]
Edited 2024-02-07 23:19 (UTC)
dethangel: (important photo)

[personal profile] dethangel 2024-02-07 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
I don'ts knows... but if you ams here, so shoulds he, right? And Murderface and Pickle...

[It'd be weird if it was just the two of them. Unless everybody else went in a different direction... uh-oh. He looks at the pants Nathan's holding up and makes a face.]

Maybe they wents in the direction what's got better pants.
nixed: (074)

[personal profile] nixed 2024-02-07 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
He thinks a simple nod and eyebrow arch will do before he can go back to blissfully closing his eyes, flat on the bed a second time. The old-shoe loving blonde can have that half of the room all to herself, so long as she lets him—

Oh. She's still talking. He opens exactly one (1) eye this time, frowning on the side of the one that's closed. The more she keeps going, the more Helios turns, trying and failing to delude himself into thinking that surely she means something else.

"What? No. I'm not a Zed. I wasn't infected." With all the defensiveness of a guy inching away from someone who won't stop poking his arm, "What does that even mean—? I'm alive. Okay? Don't say that shit out loud. Shush." A pause. "'Not as neat'."

Psh. Now he's just offended. Kaena would be, too.
ebrius: (sfsfwew)

[personal profile] ebrius 2024-02-07 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Matt Murdock is, at least, familiar. This place has set her on edge in a way that she doesn't like but he's something that she, at least, knows. Even if he's annoying.

When she feels him fall into step with her, Jessica throws a glance his way, eyes settling on the collar. She rolls her eyes. Of course.

"Nope," she says, popping the 'p' because that collar is not happening. "See they got you to do it. Or did you volunteer like the good choir boy you are?"

Always the do-gooder, Matthew.
drysdale: (easystreet48)

ransom drysdale | knives out ( diabel )

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-07 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
i. woods;

He goes to sleep a well behaved resident of the Massachusetts Correctional Institution of Norfolk County and wakes up, not for the first time in his life, naked in the woods in the middle of winter. If there had been frost riming the ground while he slept in his cell, he wouldn’t know it, but the time of year doesn’t leave it out of the question. So Ransom’s first thought—

No, that’s not true. His first thought is to wonder if he’s gotten frostbite on his dick, also not for the first time in his life. It’s been over a decade since that fateful ski trip in Aspen, but that kind of thing tends to leave an impression on the male psyche. He checks, and everything’s intact, no numbness or weird tingling. If he feels relief it’s short-lived, it’s not quite dick-freezing weather anyway, his mind already on that second thought and each consecutive one, spinning out scenarios that might have gotten him here, on the outside, sans clothing, with what seems to be an actual fucking tattoo on his left clavicle, but with no sign of a healing process, no lingering headiness from being drugged, though he must have been.

He doesn’t get very far, which is saying something — if there’s one thing Ransom knows, it’s concocting scenarios. All he can be sure of is that he hasn’t been here for too long — the frost had only just begun to melt under his body — and whoever brought him here doesn’t want to kill him (at least not yet) but doesn’t want him getting far, either. He comes up with being hunted for sport, an idea he’s always found hilarious but that he assumes if it were a real thing he would’ve been invited to at some point. He laughs a little wildly, the sound fogging out in front of him.

”WHAT THE FUCK?” he yells with his arms spread, palms up. When there’s no answer he drops his hands to his hips. Or maybe you answer, and he will gladly take someone to blame. Otherwise, he contemplates his direction. Toward where more light penetrates the green gloom is the only way that makes sense if he actually wants to get out of here, but he still hesitates. Ransom is not unaware that, whatever the reason, he’s out, and he currently cuts a conspicuous figure.

He doesn’t want to get caught. At least not until—

Not until he finds Marta.

ii. room;

Ransom could really do without a roommate. His cellmate has been fine, as far as these things go, but he’s missed the luxuries of his previous life, like taking a shit in private. As soon as he’s handed a key and a folded stack of clothes he finds his room and shuts and locks the door behind him. Once he’s finally dressed he thinks about leaving again to eat, hungry but also loathe to sit restlessly inside the four walls of the room, but instead he parks himself on one of the beds, ready to glare at anyone who tries to come in.

Speaking of luxuries. Though it’s still far from his midcentury modern frame and king size mattress — probably gone now anyway, thanks, Mom and Dad — at least it’s not a twin bunk, and shit it feels good to be able to lie down and actually stretch out his limbs.

iii. festival;

Yeah, he never would’ve come up with this. It’s like a kink dungeon meets The Village with some excessively elaborate worldbuilding. Though he hasn’t seen anyone break character, Ransom is not at all convinced that’s not exactly what this is.

A smiling woman hands him a wrist-strap, and he lets it drop over his fingers, holding it up for perusal with wry insouciance. “Wow, special.” He pockets it anyway. He fends off — or more often ignores — any displays or offers to participate from the crowd, but when he comes across the Gluwein he accepts a mug readily. He’s never been much for wine — he prefers beer or liquor — but it’s been over a year since he’s had a drink and cons can’t be choosers. He eats too, but the wine still goes straight to his head.

”I used to have a higher tolerance before prison,” he says aloud, then shakes his head as though to dislodge that bit of oversharing.
dawn_is_breaking: (oh)

festival

[personal profile] dawn_is_breaking 2024-02-07 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[There is something very familiar about the dark haired baby faced man she passes at the edge of the festival and for a second she finds herself staring, trying to place where she might know him from. She's startled out of her thoughts when he speaks and she shakes her head.]

Hrm? Oh, no.
Sorry.

[She motions to his collar and then her own.]

Looks like we're both in the same club, hrm?
dead_tongue: (voila)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-07 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank you! I wanted something special. I'm like, trying to channel my inner bad bitch. But with vulnerability."

Iggy nods. "Yup. And they do get the joke. Well, the guy who runs it does." He turns more fully to face her, hands fluttering expressively.

"Oh my gosh, that's so pretty! And a very sexy place to have it, too. My b--guy. Friend. His is kinda there, too! But he's hairy as fuck so you don't see it. What is it? No, let me guess. Uhmm... not Skala, you'd be bleeding. Diabel?"
oomfies: 𝑜𝑜𝓂𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓈 (💚 pic#16557785)

festival

[personal profile] oomfies 2024-02-07 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Honestly, Lottie has no idea how you're supposed to make anal beads work. She's barely figured out butt plugs, anal, that one time in the void. She doesn't say anything at first to her question— she's so pretty that Lottie has to stare at her face more than the toys (also, because, hm, her outfit leaves a lot to be desired— she wants to reach up and comb her hair but she stops herself, hand itching at her side). Terrible things always happen to hot people, she thinks looking at her. It's so unfair.

She should be out there sipping on coffee and taking selfies instead of lamenting about the dead (?) dildo (??) tentacles (???) inside her (???????).

That actually stops her dead in her tracks. Stops her from subconsciously following her because she wants to stare at the pretty slope of her nose. Stops her from schooling her face to seem just as pretty, in comparison. She has tentacle dildos inside her? Right now??

Softly, extremely worried: "Are you okay?"
nospecialhurry: (Default)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
It's not until she's healed enough to stop bleeding that the glow dims in his eyes and the smoke fades on the breeze. He doesn't apologize for harming her, nor does he seem particularly upset by his own outburst. Really, the only thing that bothers him about it all is that he had to do it.

With care, he puts the axe back down on the stump and moves to be a bit closer to Ianthe. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
descendente: (003)

[personal profile] descendente 2024-02-07 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Barely a reaction from the wrong-mirror watching Will, who searches their surroundings for anyone who might look at them twice. Discretion is key; probably easier said than done, too, if this man — who may not be a man at all — starts making a spectacle of himself. Frank can't afford to have that. Not here. Not when there is absolutely nothing else he can have under his control.

He's not the one Will reaches out to, but Frank clasps his upper arm, ushering him away from the gates, further along the wall. The distance created between them is halfway giving Will the impression that he's not being crowded and being able to catch him if he decides to make a run for it. Judging by his state, Frank might not need to count to ten before Will falls over in any hypothetical attempt.

"We're not talking about what I am. Not yet. My name is Frank." There's something about his tone when he says it. Frank chose this name for himself. Not a code name, but not real, either, because no parent or guardian has ever written it down; they never existed in the first place. "What's your name."
medals: (PF 027)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-07 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
absolutely when he's peeking in through someone else's window!!

oh my god are you peeking in through our window????
ebrius: (wfsdcd)

[personal profile] ebrius 2024-02-07 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Whoops."

She doesn't sound very upset about that at all. They will literally have to force the collar onto her for her to put it on. It's not happening voluntarily.

Jessica tips her head back, spine straightening, refusing to appear surprised or frightened of what she sees in front of her. It's like something out of a movie, something that shouldn't be real but it is.

She's not drunk right now and she's definitely not hallucinating. This is real and this is her life. Of fucking course it is.

"Guess I'll apologize," Jessica says dryly. "Tell them I'm so sorry but this isn't going to happen."
cutcrease: <user name=sasscons> (pic#10658278)

3!!

[personal profile] cutcrease 2024-02-07 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Haha! You're seriously asking me?

[ There's Junko, inconspicuously snacking on some finger foods when he's offered the wife. She's pointedly not participating, instead simply watching and surveying. Sometimes, taking notes. She's got her notebook out right now, in fact, tucking her snacks into her free arm as she whips out her pen. ]

I dunno. Looks kinda mid, right? Your standards must be pretty low..
heresthebeef: (Default)

[personal profile] heresthebeef 2024-02-07 11:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Mouths can be filled.

[ Easy. ]
nospecialhurry: (have you considered)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)
"I do drink and wish I could have some of the wine, but I will suffer greatly and endure this place sober." It's tragic. He does love a nice red, and it smells good, but given the general tone of the place, he'll follow Iggy's advice.

"As it stands, since I'm utterly skint, whatever we're drinking, you're buying."
dawn_is_breaking: (yup smile)

[personal profile] dawn_is_breaking 2024-02-07 11:34 pm (UTC)(link)
"Inner vulnerable bad bitch. I'd say you succeeded."

Iggy's excitement is rather cute and she smiles at the way he stumbles over his words about his 'friend', understanding right away what that means.

"Wilk."
dead_tongue: (smiiiile)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-07 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"I do, yes. It's pretty great."

He nods solemnly. "Yes. And sometimes just if you're upset enough, too. It's really scary. If you can't fuck you pretty much have to find a more violent outlet, I'm afraid. But there's lots of those. It's partly why they have festivals - they provide ways to vent."

Iggy looks delighted. "Fairies! Oh, I always believed in fairies! But I never saw one, back home."

He bows a little. "An honor to meet you, champion."
violentia: (070)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-07 11:36 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, this would be the ultimate test if she were here. There's an ah somewhere in there before he starts. ]

She plays the guitar and sings. Sec— [ —ular. A word no regular person uses, so never mind. ] Classic rock. We're just friends. Was hoping there'd be a familiar face around here.

[ Alas. ]

So, uh. How is one a vampire sometimes.
ebrius: (sfsdf)

[personal profile] ebrius 2024-02-07 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"What?"

Jessica stops walking and turns around, irritation in her tone and on her face. But that might just be her default expression too. This is the first person that's talked to her since she'd woken up naked and Jessica's not really sure what to expect.

There's no recognition on Jessica's face, nothing that says she knows Lottie. Everything about this place is new, uncomfortable and cold. She's edgy and tense, on her guard especially now that someone's decided to stop and talk to her while she's bare ass naked in some unfamiliar city.
violentia: (059)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-07 11:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The instinct is always there, to think that anything that makes enough movement to come closer is either a threat or not real. Being unable to distinguish one from the other is probably more dangerous to anyone who approaches than the other way around.

Just a person, he tells himself, thoughts coming through without him realizing it. There's nothing off about her. Just a person. Naked, like him, in the middle of nothing. Empty, silent woods, save for her voice. He has a voice, too. He can speak. He just has to remember. ]


Where… [ Still needing to breathe, ] Where is this.
whatam_i: (point_out)

ii. room

[personal profile] whatam_i 2024-02-07 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Locked doors aren't really a thing that can keep Edward out, after all, locks are just puzzles and he's the master of those. So it only really takes him about five seconds to pick the lock, using a stray needle he found on the ground of the boarding house, but when he opens the door he isn't expecting to find someone lounging in the room and he freezes.

"Oh."

Is all he says, obviously trying to think of an excuse.
violentia: (168)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-07 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah. [ All they need is an understandable, have a nice day. ] Probably for the best.

[ He was looking for that one person. The rest are...

Well. They could speak for themselves, if they were here. Maybe they wouldn't need to speak at all. ]


That includes you?
violentia: (186)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-07 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
It's where I came from.

[ Which doesn't answer the wanting part. ]

Better chances of finding someone I know, I guess.

[ Still not great, considering the size, but. ]
nospecialhurry: (Default)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Curious. Percy considers this, tries to slot it into the sorts of people he knows, but doesn't find a match. Will sounds cleverer than your average City Watch member, and he his work is more practical than a more traditional scholar of magic, so that leaves...

"A sort of natural philosopher that studies crime and the reasons for it? Or just who's responsible?" Novel! Strange, but it makes a certain amount of sense.