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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?
nixed: (098)

[personal profile] nixed 2024-02-11 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Damn. Here I thought I was being clever.

[ Oh well. ]

Just sounded exactly like something I'd tell my brother when I wanted to get us in trouble.

[ read: crimes

a lot of them ]
medals: (PF 037)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-11 03:46 pm (UTC)(link)
There's a slow blink in response. A complete pause in her facial expression as she parses Steve's words in her head, repeats them, and then thinks oh, okay. She says: "Did you read that in a psychology book from the 50's?"

Because, you know, it sounds like something Bill Macy might have said to her once, while absolutely pissed on whisky and bitter. It sounds like something Gary might say when the lads used to talk about the girls around town, before they'd say to her and Lisa, but you two are different, because they'd been part of the joke. It doesn't feel as gross as it might have done months ago; it just feels like an old feeling. Ancient resignation.

She takes in his hair - long, a little floppy. Apple pie All-American smile. "You don't look like you're from the fifties."
80s: (pic#)

[personal profile] 80s 2024-02-11 03:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"No?" He mostly picked it up from locker room talk. "I'm from '86, same as Eddie." Well, give or take the fog time he isn't thinking too much about. Needless to say he hadn't picked up a whole lot of feminism from Amanda and the Hag. "Are you saying I'm old-fashioned? It's not a diss, I know girls can like sex and stuff." He couldn't eat as much pussy as he has and still think women don't have sex drives. "Just, most guys are dogs, so they have to be choosy."
gunshooting: (9)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-11 03:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A parallel set of questions runs through Nancy's mind: this is the Billy she knows, but what does he remember? How long has he been here?

Does he know he died, and that it was ugly, and painful, and that the weeks running up to it were their own kind of torture?

But none of these are questions for this exact moment. Maybe not ever.

Especially not when Billy seems so entirely at ease, and Nancy has bigger things to worry about than what he may or may not remember about his last months in Hawkins. ]


It's not really my style. You could trade me for your wrist strap, [ she suggests, though she knows exactly how long she'd be able to keep it. Nancy has only the most cursory understanding of the marks themselves, but she knows how they're used to sort. She knows that sooner or later someone would want to see hers. And someone would take the manacle off her. ]
80s: (pic#)

[personal profile] 80s 2024-02-11 04:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Steve accepts the spoonful of stew and the indirect kiss without any particular protest, having been desensitised by, you know, the gag still tucked in his pocket. The dick in his mouth. It's good food, though - his body is craving meat like he's just had ball practise. He isn't planning to speak until he's swallowed, but Billy says that last thing and he says, "Fuck off," around his mouthful.

Finishes it hastily, his dopey sweetness kicking back up a gear to being pissed off again as unpleasant memories flood him. "You have no idea," he says, stew slopping over his sleeve as he shoves Billy a little, eyes wild. "Don't fucking talk about meat hooks. This place isn't like that."
medals: (013)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-11 04:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Same as Eddie. "A little. Eddie's never implied I was easy because I've fucked more than five people, is all." She pauses, adds: "Billy Hargrove, either." Though with Billy, it really would be the pot calling the kettle.

1986. That's nearly forgivable. She presses her mouth into a thin line, reaches for his arm and squeezes. Says, generously: "There's no such thing as sleeping with too many people, for the record. A lot is basically, err, fake. Especially here. Don't say that to anyone else. You've got a nice face, it'd be a shame if someone fucked it up."
hislittleflower: (Default)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-11 04:08 pm (UTC)(link)
"Badgers tunnel underground." She calls in response. "Just keep an ear to the ground for any rumbling or shaking."

Peony readies a spell in the palm of her hand for if they should be accosted. "I'm on it." She really wishes she had brought the butterknife she'd stolen from under her pillow but she hadn't expected to wander this far into the forest. Deftly leaping over a felled log. "Wait, is this the right way back to the town?" She asks over her shoulder, eyes darting everywhere to remain vigilant for enemies. "I'm terrible with directions."
otherbitches: (YhDj6lk)

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-11 04:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Billy has no idea? Sorry, Stephen, he's has plenty. What's it say about Billy that Steve lighting up, flaring with anger makes him grin? He loves instigating, getting a reaction, considers it a nice little prize to draw it out. It's a little fucked up, given how Johnson had rattled Billy, how angry he'd had made him, how afterwards he'd often wondered about Steve and the others in their own pocket of hell. But Billy's not Danny Johnson. Not really. Not entirely. And Steve's here now.

"Watch it. Bad boy," he chastises, like Steve's a messy dog. Which— well, he is. "Clean it up," he offers up his knuckles, where stew has dripped.

Whether or not Steve does it, to all that, he says, "And you're that sure? I watched them peel a strip off some guy's back last festival. This one, they're ripping out hearts. Wanna take a peek?"
ludomania: (pic#16681218)

[personal profile] ludomania 2024-02-11 04:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ it's just part of the dance. he knows the steps even though he's obviously not playing the role she's suspecting him of. ]

Rubilykskoye. [ he's curious, but he's careful not to stare and he doesn't move after her either. ] Not too far, but far enough it's uncomfortable to reach without shoes on.

[ and it's getting dark. he shrugs harmlessly, leaving the choice up to her. ] Should we go?
otherbitches: from palpo 💙 (pic#16026467)

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-11 04:38 pm (UTC)(link)
[ In another universe, where she's settled in for months and he's new and fraught, the first thing he probably would have said to her is: You tried to shoot me with a GUN! But at least right now, he has no interest in spilling how it felt to have his abdomen punctured and rearranged, a lung collapsed, drowning on blood and feeling too hot and too cold and Max crying for some goddamn reason and—

But he's not going to talk about that. ]


You wanna trade? [ He says instead, still grinning, because, yeah, he also knows the score. She's not getting to play like that today. ]

I don't know. I always figured you for more of a... [ His head tilts, looking her up and down. ] Pillow princess. But I guess you're kind of a nag. Are you a control freak, princess?
policier: 𝓭𝓷𝓽 (thirty five)

lmaooo i couldn't resist

[personal profile] policier 2024-02-11 04:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Old? Javert isn't quite certain what he means, looking down at himself then touching the collar with his hand, the familiarity of it more appealing than anything. He's worn collars before, albeit leather stock designed to keep his shirt collar high against his neck — not anything like this, a dog collar, something demeaning but not entirely unwelcome.

"I was not aware there was an age limit," he answers just as blandly, not caring too much what the other man thinks. "Do you often think of your father when you see an older man?" How terrible that must be for him. Javert purposely tries not to think at all about his.
gunshooting: (Default)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-11 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ These, she could tick off on her fingers. Three needling insinuations that have her flushing hot with something near to anger. She feels them like splinters when she closes her hand into a fist.

Doesn’t hit him.

But she thinks about it, how she’d land her knuckles at the edge of his smirking mouth. It would feel good, Nancy knows, but—

Maybe not here. Even given what she’s seen on stage. ]


Fuck you, Billy, [ she tells him, sweetly as she knows how.

Marginally better than hitting him, surely. ]
heave: (pic#16994263)

[personal profile] heave 2024-02-11 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)
If it's not poison, I might be interested.

[ Bariyan sits back and folds his hands in front of him, contemplating himself for a second. He'd managed to find some clothes earlier, and very little else. He hmms aloud as he catalogues himself. ]

I don't have dollars to trade but I have a few other things. Your fortune, if we go to bed. Or blood for blood. Mine is holy. I'm told there are kings who would pay handsomely for a drop.

Or... I traded for this earlier. [ Bariyan produces a small bottle of liquor out of his pockets and plays it between his fingers, tantalizingly. ] It's cherry-peach. Last of this year's batch, apparently!
dawn_is_breaking: (soft_down)

[personal profile] dawn_is_breaking 2024-02-11 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"I think you've earned a little break." She muses as he drains the mug and gently dabs the cool cloth across some of the marks she sees on his chest. Her touch is gentle, her eyes accepting and not judgemental.

"It can be hard work being the submissive one." She says, her dark eyes flickering to the leather collar he is wearing which is similar to hers.

"I'm Dawn."
princess_of_ida: (27)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-11 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"Not the ones here. That might as well be foreplay to them," Ianthe replied with a shrug.

She steered them toward some of the food stands as the scent on the wind was a bit tantalizing. Just because she didn't require food any longer didn't mean she didn't enjoy eating. When she remembered to, that was. And there was such good heart meat in the signature dishes.

"Sounds exhausting." Sounded familiar. "Ever get tired of it?"
dead_tongue: (cleaned up)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-11 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, there's lots of us, you can find whoever you like. Or do you mean just Void Touched? Then it's just me and Kovacs.

He's built like the Terminator, you can't miss him.
dulge: (Default)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-11 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)
A box of ammunition might be a fair loophole, but what use would they be once you run out?
princess_of_ida: (98 Tridentarii)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-11 05:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[What a juicy topic for Dorothy to have to wrestle with in the upcoming future - to choose between cheating on her husband or turn into a monster and everything that entailed. It would be enlightening to watch as the days ticked by and the choice became more pressing. Assuming Dorothy was the faithful sort. Maybe she was just wild and didn't give a fuck about it. That would be even more interesting. And entertaining.]

How old is your daughter? I've got a twin sister. My parents are still alive, but they don't give a fuck about me, so I don't really give a fuck about them. [Not any more.] Really, it was just me and Coronabeth against the world, anyway.
seastag: (pic#16841702)

[personal profile] seastag 2024-02-11 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Something, anything to draw her away from herself. To pull her closer to something that may finally stop the bleeding of the self-inflicted wounds on her heart, constantly fresh, if only for a night. A moment. A relief she's chased before, in moments of sad desperation, a relief that never quite sticks even when she chases it, leaving her colder than she was before.

The last time she'd tried, it was several years ago. The last time she'd felt release herself, even longer.

Yet it's obvious, still, that this isn't her first time. Parisa moves and Gala greets her, holding her gaze, holding her head where ever her princess directs it, and at last she dares touch back, her arm curving up against a thigh, now bare and laid against her shoulder, firm in the way she holds her - and she is holding her, so steady underneath her that it's all for Parisa, not her. And although there isn't a word that escapes from her lips before she's parting them, pressing them against her, tongue longing to taste more of her, there is one that floats at the surface of her mind:

Anything.

Anything Parisa wants. Her hair is soft in her fingers, dark and undone from any of her braids, and Gala's hitching breath is warm against wet skin, wetter still as she runs her tongue through the pretty folds of her cunt, wanting so desperately taste every part of her, to feel even the smallest shred of her affection. ]
dulge: (pic#16913651)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-11 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm Debra, but Deb is what most people go with.

And ooh~ the apothecary, so you got the hookup huh?
seastag: (pic#16841704)

[personal profile] seastag 2024-02-11 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Who?

[ So she can thank them. Probably. ]
dead_tongue: (I mean I guess)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-11 05:37 pm (UTC)(link)
Ianthe, for one. So just relax a little bit, okay?
princess_of_ida: (1)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-11 05:39 pm (UTC)(link)
All the better to sink my teeth into.

[Of course, he had to get out of range of her mouth right then. She needed to work on her timing better. She could probably get to his ear, but that would just make it silly. His meaty fingers at her cunt was a better distraction anyway. It helped that she was spending most of the festival naked when she was making herself available to Dominants, and he caught her just before she put something on to go get herself some food.

She was wet as his directness, his desire, his demand was exactly the kind of thing she'd been wanting out of this festival. There was no denying her arousal nor the shuddering sigh as he found sensitive slick flesh. It certainly seemed like a bull's cock might be pressing the limits of her body. At the moment.]
dulge: (pic#16913656)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-11 05:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She parses a glance down at her own feet, dirty but not as though they're beaten and bloody. Then out towards the hut and clueless about what direction they go otherwise. She only knows it's not the direction she came from. ]

I can walk, [ she nods as her head turns back to him. Seems like the safer bet at the cost of her feet. She'll just have to make a show of it. Maybe he'll offer to carry her the rest of the way. ]
ligature: (Default)

[personal profile] ligature 2024-02-11 05:53 pm (UTC)(link)
A breath of something that's a close cousin to a laugh. The clinically depressed cousin. A real hit at parties. "I'm fine, I've got another one," he assures her. And he does. It's the one he's wearing right now, also brown and a bit coarse, but functional. That's more than good enough for Will.