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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?
dethangel: (nice lil smile)

[personal profile] dethangel 2024-02-09 05:19 am (UTC)(link)
Thanks, Nathan.

[He appreciates the assistance, although he's also hoping that a bunch of people will give him stuff anyway.]

Maybe she knows if they invented glue yet.

[If you ask someone if they have any glue and they don't know what that is, then it's a dead giveaway, he's sure.]
murdercycle: (hammer. check.)

[personal profile] murdercycle 2024-02-09 05:33 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah.

Hey, hold on.


( Nathan imagines himself steadily disappearing from Toki's view, like a cool ghost. In real life, he just has to think about something other than Toki, and that seems to be enough to end the call. )
dethangel: (:))

[personal profile] dethangel 2024-02-09 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
Okay.

[He's holding on! Also, he can't hear Nathan anymore, so it seems like he hung up or something, or maybe he disappeared. He considers trying to call him back just because, but he's holding on.]
murdercycle: (laser canon.)

[personal profile] murdercycle 2024-02-09 05:45 am (UTC)(link)
( He's back again! He's still not sure how the fuck this is happening, but he thinks he's back with Toki after a few minutes.

In the real world, he's picking through stalls at the marketplace and trying to find clothes that look dark enough to suit them. To reach Toki, he just sorta closes his eyes and thinks about him... which feels weird. )


Toki?
madaboutit: (Anim look solemn yes)

[personal profile] madaboutit 2024-02-09 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
[There's a flicker of realization in his eyes, and his shoulders shift back a touch; easing some caution into a more regal stature. The nobility is wrapped in the guise of a simple laborer: pale linen shirt with a single tie at the collar and a matching set of dark vest and trousers. His Wilk rune is blatant on the first bone of the middle finger of his right hand.

Sweeney nods once.]


Aye. On the island of St. Loe.

[He considers her a moment, wondering where the woman might be from. Obviously, not all of her kind were isolated into the castle he'd stayed in. Sweeney takes a gander.]

I enjoyed the hospitality of Lady Gilia, Queen and Second-Child of the Isle of St. Loe, Daughter-Sea, She Who Sings the Ocean to Prosperity, Heir of Hildegard St. Loe, the Sea Cliff.

[In the sense that she deflowered him in that other life; her mercy edging on the divine.]
bisquik: (0214)

[personal profile] bisquik 2024-02-09 07:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ The cloak she only demurs over a moment, Oh, you don't have to— before she accepts it, because she doesn't like being naked any more than she has to be. It's not as polite as she'd like, to just take the help, but needs must.

Once that's pulled around her shoulders she takes the handkerchief too, wrings it anxiously through her hands, embarrassed to ruin something so nice. Still, she can't walk around with blood running down her thighs, so it disappears beneath the cloak.
]

That's so generous of you. Thank you.

[ The mention of a clinic makes her think of hospitals, though, and that makes her uncertain. It probably looks bad, a woman wandering naked on her own with blood on her, but she doesn't want any trouble, so she shakes her head. ]

That's all right, I don't want to put you out any. It was a shame to wake up out there but I probably was just sleepwalking, I don't need a doctor. I'll make my own way back home, take some Naproxen.
bisquik: (020)

[personal profile] bisquik 2024-02-09 07:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ Dot pushes down the rising tide of anxiety, and busies herself doing what she's told, finding a light long chain so she can attach her wrist cuff to Ianthe's collar. Just like walking a dog in the city. Except Ianthe isn't a dog. ]

I'm sorry.

[ She whispers it nervously, up close so nobody will hear but Ianthe, and when she pulls back her face is pinched in worry and shame. ]

There we go. So pretty.

[ She means it, too, trying to ease into a smile as they set off to walk the festival. Trying to keep the tremble out of her fingers. ]
bisquik: (0234)

[personal profile] bisquik 2024-02-09 07:23 am (UTC)(link)
"Language!" says a voice from somewhere nearby.

Does Dorothy speak Spanish? No. Not really. Not outside of a few words from TV. Does she know immediately that was someone swearing? Yeah, it's kind of unmistakable.

"Sorry," she says immediately, pushing through the trees, just as naked and dirty as Marta is. "Sorry, that just kind of slipped out. My kid's at that age, y'know?" She sniffles, smiling through tears she was shedding long before they stumbled upon each other, but which have turned from triggered and hopeless to deeply grateful. She's so, so glad to find someone else, to find another woman — even if two of them dirty and naked out here can't be a coincidence, which leads her to unpleasant kind of conclusions about how they got here.
hislittleflower: (033 (Unsure) Considering)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-09 07:29 am (UTC)(link)
[c o n f u s I o n.]

I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, my lady. I mean the contents of my equipment pack.
Edited 2024-02-09 07:30 (UTC)
drysdale: (greatnews086)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-09 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
He offers her a short, sharp hm at that, looking down at the top of her head. It's a weirdly immediate, trapped feeling, but one he's not altogether unfamiliar with when it comes to Marta Cabrera. She was the one to put him in prison, after all. He glances at what he can see of her face, but her throat is already working, her shoulders heaving, so it doesn't tell him anything. Any gurgling from her stomach would be indistinguishable from the sounds of the water. After a few seconds go by, he gives a slight nod and figures that's good enough for him. She's fooled him before, but he doesn't think she has that sort of control over herself right now, or a strong enough motivation to lie to him.

Good. Puke in a pool is a bitch to clean.

"That's the truth," he says, "but maybe not the whole truth." He doesn't ask what the whole truth might be, because he knows he doesn't want the answer to that. Instead he shifts his arm away from her, so he can brace his palms on the edge of the bath and lower himself down next to her. Seated in the water, he takes his own involuntary gasp of steam into his lungs, lets it out on his own punched out laugh. To cover for it he dips all the way under, briefly, running his hands over his face after he comes back up. He looks at her, blinking the remaining water from his eyelashes.

No, he's not made for comfort. But he knows how to fake it; he knows how to be solicitous. He's done it before and she's bought it, so why not now when he has no particular need to manipulate her emotions or anything to gain by watching her have a panic attack? If he's ever going to get pleasure out of her suffering, it will be by his own hand. He lifts his arm over her head to rest against the edge of the bath, cupping her shoulder to nudge her closer. He notices the way the water laps over her tits, but after many nights in a cold cell jacking himself off with one hand, Marta's body on display for him on the screen of a contraband phone in the other— that's already from a different place and time, different rules. Right now he's more interested in the whole shuddering mess of her. "How is it that whenever my life gets infinitely more fucked than I previously thought possible, you're always there?"
Edited 2024-02-09 09:57 (UTC)
dadyl: (021 ;; serious)

Festival

[personal profile] dadyl 2024-02-09 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ Daryl is covered in blood up to the crook of his elbows but he pauses beside the observer, still reeking of gore and sweat. The question clues him in that this is someone new, someone he hasn't seen around here before. He clocks the glasses too, a little odd and out of place as the sun finishes setting, but maybe the stranger just doesn't want everyone to know who he's watching. Daryl chucks the heart he's just finished removing into one of the waiting baskets and grabs a towel as he gets down off the low stage. ]

You don't know the half of it, man.

[ He has to soak the towel again and rub hard to get most of the blood off. He's done enough to prove he belongs for today. He's had enough of the festival altogether and this task had been the easiest he'd found himself snared in. ]

How many days?
drysdale: (greatnews299)

[personal profile] drysdale 2024-02-09 07:48 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's Ransom's turn for his face to go pinched, in a still way that translates into something more evaluating than dismissive as he looks at Angelo. ]

Uh huh. [ He draws out the first syllable and lands on the second: obviously. ] How about you, the seventies?
dadyl: (Default)

i. arrival

[personal profile] dadyl 2024-02-09 08:12 am (UTC)(link)
Daryl is outside the gates more than he is inside on any given day and he's returning from a hunt when the familiar sight of someone trudging along cold and underdressed (even for this town) makes him alter his course a little. He slows, lowering the brace of birds from over his shoulder as his hunting dog, still half a puppy and not quite trained, trots up close at his heels.

She knows to stay close to Daryl, but only in a general sense. She's between Will's ankles in an instant, circling him and jumping up on his bare legs.

"Oh, shit." He was already going to stop and check the guy out but now Daryl drops his gear beside the quails on the cobblestones. "C'mere, girl. Get off."

He shrugs out of the heavy poncho he always wears in this weather and offers it to Will. Sometimes he carries extra gear with him but there's no extra boots in his pack. "Yeah, an' it's only gonna get worse. Real shame it ain't all a nightmare."
Edited (sry bracket default is life) 2024-02-09 08:15 (UTC)
violentia: (082)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-09 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's nice. To see that feeling in someone else. ]

What's her name?
ludomania: (pic#16483302)

[personal profile] ludomania 2024-02-09 08:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ he's got it, don't you worry. the second she revealed herself from behind the bushes, it sealed the deal for him. he'd die for this lovely, fragile creature. his smile is much warmer than the coat. ]

None of us has the answers to those questions, I'm afraid. Months ago I arrived here the same way you did, along with many others. [ he turns away politely, gestures at the cabin where he came from. ] It's the hunters' cabin. There's a fireplace, I can light it for you before I head to the town to find you a ride and some more clothing.

[ he'll get out of her way in case a stranger's company might make her uncomfortable. ]
violentia: (201)

cw: monster transformation, spider imagery, seizure

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-09 09:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ ooc: If this is too much lmk. ]

[ His eyes are wide. Not scared, not angry; again, like he's struggling and something simply won't let him close them or look away. The more physical contact there is, the more he wants to run for everyone's sake, and the worst it gets.

Something opens his mouth. It might seem like he's about to scream, it might seem like an invisible force grabbed his jaw, but it soon becomes obvious that it's not an exterior force. Something is inside him, climbing up his tongue, crawling outward like a spider leg. It tries to reach her, tries to wrap around her neck to crush her larynx. The rest of his body starts seizing. ]
seaboard: (⌜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞⌟)

wildcard

[personal profile] seaboard 2024-02-09 09:00 am (UTC)(link)
[ It hits her like lightning, a voice so familiar, so dear, that it runs through her body at once, even to break out of the heart broken stupor she had miserably existed in for weeks now. She cannot even console herself to get the words out.

That she jumps into her shadow in only her house dress, and in frantic searches from well to bathtub to puddle big enough as she scoured every corner she could. She barely even stops to explain when she runs into people she does know.

Every corner and place and space between as she frantically searches for her.

Until she spots her in the street, antlers proud and elegant, removed and aloof as all Stag-Knights were. ]


Gala!

[ She gathers up her skirts, and runs as fast as she can towards her, curls in every direction, and thuds into her as she flung her arms around her waist as tightly as she could. Held on tightly for every second she could, her laughter tearfully, wonderfully happy. ]

Gala, I am so happy to see you!
violentia: (032)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-09 09:04 am (UTC)(link)
Not that I'm aware. [ Better to not tell her what else would be on the news by that time. Moving on!

And now, for the obligatory boomer question: ]
TikTok?
violentia: (108)

[personal profile] violentia 2024-02-09 09:06 am (UTC)(link)
That's a lot of questions, Nate.

[ Dodging, now. ]
clawandfang: art by oceanwrath @ twitter (Default)

[personal profile] clawandfang 2024-02-09 09:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ A pause, Khoriya torn between admitting truth (and thus revealing weakness) or holding to a façade of unwavering strength. Finally: ]

...Sometimes I can sense it, clawing and howling like a caged beast. Your mind, your flesh, and your bones are the cage, and all must yield before it can gain the better of you. But I've more experience with beasts than most, so perhaps one could say that taming it comes more easily to me.

[ At the last, the faintest hint of irony creeps into his growling mind-voice, before falling back into a more business-like tone. ]

Very well. I will have it sent there with a messenger - addressed to Stag-Knight Galamila.

[ And at some point in the next day or so, a child with a high piping voice will come calling for Galamila, presenting to her a dagger wrapped in a bundle of furs. It's surprisingly serviceable, Khoriya having sharpened it to the best of his ability before passing it along. If asked, the child will say that the big wolf asked her to bring it here. ]
cacotopia: please dnt (004)

i, cw: oops cannibalism

[personal profile] cacotopia 2024-02-09 09:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ The man standing at the door, hand clutching the handle like it got frozen with the rest of him, stares with blood still dripping down his chin. Someone's gotten a particularly nasty bite tonight, and the perpetrator — Mr. Dodrescu himself — thought he could hide out in a room that he was sure was empty just a day ago, before making it back to his own abode. (Read: the room he shares with two feral women just down the hall.)

Emphatically clearing his throat, wiping the blood from his mouth like it'll magically disappear if it's on the back of his hand, ]


Oh, no. I was, ah. [ Hm. The guy looks anything but human, but do sharp teeth translate to attempted-cannibalism-acceptance? They should make that into a national holiday. He'll take it up with the Duchess sometime. ] Looking for my cat?
femininerage: (inkonic barbie barbie (144))

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-09 09:37 am (UTC)(link)
[The last part catches her off-guard. This is especially obvious because her face does another odd little thing where her eyes get very wide, mouth going a little slack, all of her facial muscles working to make an expression that is human.

She thinks that is so simple. Too simple. Too true; too entirely not true. She says: ]
Oh, I love John so much. I love John more than anyone has ever loved a person, probably. [But she loves John in such an entirely unhuman way; her love is a void; her love is a vastness, it is a consumption, it is a demanding, always raging thing. Her love is a gift, her love is a curse, her love is not really love the way which Iggy might know it.

She used to love everything, maybe, once upon a time. Creation begins with love, and love is all chemical reactions and neurons firing. She is just that: chemical reactions, neurons firing, gas made solid, atoms into shapes. She felt like she had been sleeping in agony for so long before she reached out and gave John the only gift she could. Her love had been a desperate plea, then. Her love is a desperate torment now. ]
I still love John so much, after all this time. I don't think I could ever stop loving him.

[She doesn't sound sad about this. It's said like a fact; a thing which is true, and which she cannot make untrue. She will love John today, she will John tomorrow, and perhaps in another ten thousand years she will still love him, and he will resent her for it. Maybe he will hate her in twenty, or thirty, or one-hundred-thousand years when they both begin to burn up the way that all things which live eventually do. Two black holes colliding, and it will still be love.

She pushes the plate of cakes towards Iggy, plate hitched forward by a bare toe. This is love too, she supposes, even though she isn't fond of cakes and she doesn't know Iggy well. ]
Please eat a cake.
oomfies: 𝑜𝑜𝓂𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓈 (💄 pic#15211490.)

[personal profile] oomfies 2024-02-09 09:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ The world is cruel to her hot people.. Not even a milk carton ad?! But nevermind that, she actually sounds kind of happy to hear the words 'TikTok' outside of her own brain. A little bit of that sunshine peters through— ]

..I'm more Instagram!! Tumblr sometimes, Twitter. Snapchat.. I was barely getting into TikTok before I left. Are you on those, too?
hislittleflower: (119 (Neutral) Noble shit I stg)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-09 11:00 am (UTC)(link)
"No apologies needed are needed, my lady. It's a pleasure to meet you, even despite the fraught circumstances."

While she might have been expelled from her family line due to refusing to bend to their wants, Peony had been raised within noble society and she could spot a woman of good kin a mile away. The delicate hand to her neck and soft tone were markers enough that she was dealing with real nobility here rather than social climbers like her family.

"Please, don't stand on my account, make yourself as comfortable as you can." Peony gestured to one of the small beds and sat on the opposite one, facing her, resting her hands in her lap.

"I did. Bare, cold and afraid. Not my most elegant of arrivals, I must confess. My former lady mother would have murdered me were she to hear of it." Peony confirmed, throwing in a few comments so that Margaery might know there was at least a note of familiarity between them. People liked to feel they weren't alone when they were afraid. "I hope you weren't given too much trouble getting into the village? And you were given adequate hospitality?"
medals: (j 2x4 044)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-09 11:10 am (UTC)(link)
[She tries to say: nothing, but what comes out is: ] Gluwein - [followed by an annoyed scrunch of her nose. She tries not to let it linger. The buzz in her system is nice, it's warm - she feels like a furnace, really, after the cookies and the satay. Her skin feels alive, like every cell is wide awake.

She sways closer into his space, wonders what his mouth tastes like, what his beard would feel like against her thighs, and feels her face go hot. She thinks, oh, she really should go. ]
I can't stay, [is what she says, honestly. She can't stay; she doesn't want to stay. She amends: ] For very long, [softer, like this is a secret between them. Like this is something she is not supposed to share. ]