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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?
paracosmic: (look ❦ there's just one little thing)

[personal profile] paracosmic 2024-05-16 02:37 am (UTC)(link)
[what an interesting name. she wonders where he's from--it sounds Greek, to her, but she isn't too sure.]

I'm Babydoll.

[while the reaction of the townsfolk gave her hints that this isn't the first time a series of naked strangers have wandered into a new place, the realization isn't any more reassuring. she has a lot of questions that she'd ask if she weren't naked.]

Yes, from the woods. Is it-- [she swallows, stopping herself, brows furrowed. she hates feeling so helpless, but there isn't an immediate threat happening from him, or anything] I heard there's boarding somewhere?

[as in, please lead her out of these streets and get her into real clothes.]
Edited 2024-05-16 02:37 (UTC)
poleaxed: joke; gent; sad (rock and roll)

somewhere else.

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 04:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Going through the woods on her own, foraging for mushrooms and checking traps-- Joan isn't very good at it, but she tries. She's trying to get better. There's no reason not to, and no other way. She walks through the underbrush, and doesn't think that there might be people out there. Nobody that Joan knows of has shown up since she did.

So she isn't expecting it when she sees the girl's pale body, long-limbed and skinny as a scarecrow. Against the dark of the trees, she looks like a black-and-white photo. Joan-- holding the long-shafted weapon she always carries, an axe's blade shoved onto a rake handle-- freezes, holds her hand out.

"Hey. Hey! Shit, calm down!"

The only thing she can think of to prove good intentions is- well, she's not dropping her weapon. After that, she can only think to close her eyes. Give the girl some dignity. Joan slaps her free hand over them.

"Are you okay?"
littlemissfutility: (Fd6K1rE)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
No one has ever, ever stopped freaking out just because they heard the words calm down. Especially not when they say it loud like that - every walker in the woods is going to start dragging themselves over this way. Beth grips her makeshift weapon tighter, watching the woman react. Surprise, uncertainty, something like modesty when she covers her eyes. That's good - it feels safer, being unseen.

Especially now.

"No," she hisses back. What about this looks like it's okay? "Someone brought me out here. I don't know why."

Whoever it was, though, she doesn't think it was this tall woman in rough clothing. She seems genuinely surprised to see a naked girl skulking through the woods. (Weird woods. The wrong weather, the wrong kind of smell. How did someone get her out of Atlanta?)
poleaxed: static (i see you all the while readin into this)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Explaining this will take a fucking while, putting aside the fact that it's not Joan's job to be the welcome committee. But she's the one who's here, and she has to make sure this kid doesn't fucking freeze to death. Joan doesn't have any extra clothing, can't take off her shirt for the girl's sake. She has the thin cloth she's been wrapping the poleaxe in, and that's just gotta do.

She holds it out to her, hopefully in the right direction. Joan's eyes remain shut.

"Yeah," she says. "They did the same thing to me. We all show up like this."
littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
The woman stretches out her hand, some fabric in it - but taking it means getting closer, within reach of that axe. A moment stretches out, Beth hesitating, looking at the ground between them and the set of the woman's mouth.

"Can you put it on the ground?" It sounds thin and a little fearful, too much a request. She tries again. "Put it on the ground and - and back up."

Some part of her knows it won't matter, if this is a trick. The woman's really tall, and she looks strong. A couple of strides, a swing, and that'll be it. But the sense of control that comes of making demands, even stupid ones, is hard to discount.
poleaxed: hand; joke; smile (some news.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 05:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan can't really blame the girl, is the thing. She isn't gonna put down her weapon for the same reason. None of them are complete idiots. Hurray.

She turns to the side and risks a glance, catching nothing but empty trees. Joan loops the cloth over a branch, and turns around so she can walk a few feet away without having to look at a naked kid. The girl looks so young, either underfed or young in the way teenagers are when they haven't totally filled out. Joan didn't get a good enough look to be able to tell which, doesn't really want to. The idea that someone this young is here, in this awful place, makes Joan's heart ache. At least she's a girl, though; women are better at suffering.
littlemissfutility: (F6K08vo)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Beth waits until the woman's walked out of reach, and then she takes a few steps forward, snatching the fabric off the branch. It's coarse, but it'll work - and there's enough of it that she can drape it around herself and be covered up. Sort of. No one would ever mistake it for clothes, but at least it's something.

The tree it was on is the wrong kind for home, she realizes. The longer she's here, the less panicked she becomes, the more obvious it is: There's no way this could be Georgia.

"You can turn around." She's still holding the branch, but less like she's planning to swing it. More like an awkward walking stick. "Where are we?"
poleaxed: static ; hands (you might be harboring a heartache.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Turning back, Joan looks the girl over. She doesn't, on second inspection, think she's precisely a kid. Not fully grown, but probably somewhere close to Billy's age. But she's got a wariness, a carefulness that makes her seem older.

Not that it's very hard to seem older than Billy.

"Rubilykskoye," Joan says. "It's not on any map where you're from. It's like a different planet or something."
littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"No, really." A different planet is about the worst lie anyone's ever told her. No one's been to the moon in decades, and it'll probably be centuries before anyone manages to get back. Some other planet, outside the solar system, wasn't possible even before the world ended.
poleaxed: static ; smile (here i thought we had)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
"I know how it sounds," Joan says. "But I'd come up with a better lie if it was one. Have you found your tattoo yet? We all got one."
littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
"What? No." This sounds equally fake. How would she have gotten a tattoo? Everyone used to say they hurt - and even if she was unconscious at the time (a thought that makes her stomach knot), it'd still be all scabby right now.

She scans over the woman's exposed flesh, unaware that her own tattoo is peeking out over the edge of the fabric she has bunched around her shoulders. There's a mark on her throat, above the hollow of her collarbone. "Where's yours?"

Prove you aren't lying.
servings: (105)

boarding house

[personal profile] servings 2024-05-16 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Cassidy gets a middle-aged, half-naked man for a roommate, staring at the other side of the room like someone pointed the sun directly into his eyes then asked him a question in — fucking Greek or whatever, he doesn't know. There's a lack of concern in the confusion, though. He grew up in a house with more brothers (and a sister) than it was meant to accommodate, so sharing wasn't so much about caring as it was inescapable, and privacy was something you only heard about in fairy tales.

(The accent reminds him of Alec, who would decidedly beat his ass for it, because Alec is most definitely not Irish.) ]


Mmn. No.

[ Groaning, he pushes himself up and slides his legs off the bed, elbows on his thighs. The guy needs to rub the fatigue from his face before any more brain activity can make it out into the real world, then he can get up and grab a cookie. First comes a big chunk, then finally a handshake. Still chewing, one eye closed, ]

Tyler. I'm making breakfast. Let's go.

[ He's heading out, no shirt, no shoes. You don't need those to cook. ]
poleaxed: hands ; emb (human hearts and pain)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan looks the girl over, trying to find it, but it must be under the cloth now, and- no, there it is. Joan taps just above her collarbone. "That's where yours is," she says, and then unbuttons a bit of her shirt, enough to open the collar and reveal her shoulder. A coffin-shaped square is etched into her freckled shoulder. "Here's mine."
littlemissfutility: (Default)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 06:46 pm (UTC)(link)
She reached a hand up to her neck, touching it with light fingertips, but it's not like she can tell. If there's something there, it already healed - and that's a nauseating thought. How long was she unconscious? Where was she then? Who did this?

Beth forces herself to think about the shape on the woman's arm, peering at the dark lines etched into her flesh. The symbol is immediately recognizable, almost cartoonishly familiar. "They put a coffin on us?"
poleaxed: shock; static (tell me something)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
"Some of us," Joan says. If they're gonna have this conversation, they're gonna start walking back to town. Joan waves the girl to come with her, taking slow and tentative steps. "There's four you can have. It has something to do with your personality, but I don't got all the details."
littlemissfutility: (Fd6K1rE)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Going somewhere - anywhere - seems like it can't be any worse than staying here. Beth hesitates a moment, but what's she going to do if the woman walks away? She'll be lost in woods she's never seen before, with a stick and a rectangle of cloth flapping around her.

So she comes up beside the woman, several feet to one side in hopes of staying out of arm's reach, and tells herself that as long as they go someplace with supplies, it doesn't matter if this is a trap. If she has to, she'll run right back out here and start over again - maybe this time with food. "What does yours mean?"

What's mine?
poleaxed: static; tired; sad (they can't get)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 07:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan can see what the girl's doing, staying out of reach. Another smart move; Joan lets her.

"Mine's diabel, we're are all sex addicts, apparently. News to me. They can't control themselves." Joan rolls her eyes. "You've got Niez, the one for artsy hipsters. It's like horoscopes. It's fun for some people, but I wouldn't bet money on it."
littlemissfutility: (mmyJ5Gp)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 07:16 pm (UTC)(link)
It sounds ridiculous, anyone caring about horoscopes now. Tattoos putting you into groups. A picture of a coffin meaning you're super horny. Maybe it should be funny - but wondering how someone knew to put one and not another onto her keeps her from laughing.

Niez and diabel are unfamiliar sounds, but she's determined not to forget them. Even though the whole thing still has the stench of no, really, what's actually going on? to it. If there's someone else she can ask later, she can compare.

"No one's a hipster anymore," she says, because it's not like she can say she's not artsy. Music's art. And without meaning to, she's starting to relax - it's not as easy as when she met Noah, but it's not completely different, either. That tentative sense of maybe this person's okay, the one you have to trust sometimes. "I thought the whole point of being a hipster was being cooler than whatever everyone else was doing."
poleaxed: smile; hands (my my hey hey)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
"I dunno, maybe they call it something different now. It's been a while since I was at a college campus." Where, presumably, the hipsters are, enlivened by the easy flow of coffee and cash. Joan had spent much of her early twenties lurking around them, fixing cars under the table and staying for overnight jags at whatever dorm, sorority or fraternity that would have her. Yet those days are not fond to her, and it's an easy thing to turn away from the memory.

"Listen, when I got here, I fought the person who found me. We almost killed each other. I get how this feels. And I'm not gonna tell you that things'll get better. But there are people in town that'll give you clothes and food and a place to sleep. They do that, at least."
littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 07:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Beth doesn't try to correct her when it's obviously a joke. Everyone already knows college isn't a thing anymore.

"What do they want for it?" is what she asks instead. Free food and shelter, a new pair of pants - it's gonna come with a price.
poleaxed: shock; anger (you let men into your bed)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
"They want you to contribute," she says, her voice dull with disapproval. She regrets, now, describing diabel the way she did; it will just make this poor girl even more suspicious.

"The thing about the marks is... there's a curse. It'll make you turn into a monster, if you're not careful."
littlemissfutility: (HGXPnWh)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
The way the woman says it makes the back of Beth's neck prickle. Contributing doesn't have to be bad - everyone has to pitch in, or everyone's gonna die - but that's not what it sounds like. She can nearly feel Gorman's breath on her face, his hand moving up her side.

She stops walking.

The monster part barely even registers. Maybe that's just what they tell people walkers are. Here's your tattoo, if you die, you know what'll happen. "Contribute how."
poleaxed: shock; angry (if the truth forgets about us)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
She was expecting more push back on the monster part, and is honestly relieved not to put off discussing it.

"I mean, they expect you to pull your own weight. Get a job, whatever. And they feed the people who don't. My roommate's basically a professional loiterer, and he still gets three square. If you do important work, you get a little more to get by on, but nobody starves."
littlemissfutility: (ggVedzy)

[personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-05-16 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"What else?" She didn't say it like she meant you gotta help make dinner sometimes. Getting a job - picking one herself, getting to leave it if she wants to - is the least of her worries.
poleaxed: static ; angry ; shock (that we're no dick and jane)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-05-16 08:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan hates this. Stumbling over the worst part, having to explain it. She grits her teeth, then tries again. "These people believe... the people actually from here, I mean. They believe it's bad to keep in your urges. They've got a whole religion about it."