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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?
ghosttownapproach: (shadowed)

Halloween Jack | Diamond Dogs (album) | Wilk

[personal profile] ghosttownapproach 2024-02-07 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
There is a rustling of leaves when the wind is calm. There is a glimpse of colour -- of bright orange-red, among the dulled brown-grey-green of winter. Supplies 'fall off of' the carts that journey through the woods to trade with Rubilykskoye. A goat goes missing, and its remains are found two days later, picked clean. Nothing but offal and cracked bones.

There is something in the woods, the news goes out. And there are no villagers or void-touched unaccounted for.

--

In the woods a savvy explorer, familiar with the lay of the land, may realise that a small hollow within a couple miles of the gate is -- gone. Covered over with branches and moss and stones, looking as though it had never been. If courage or cleverness lead to investigation, the hole is (of course) merely covered over.

But discovery is not one-sided. There is a scream, an awful feral sound, and something very person-shaped flings its way out of the hiding-place, and throws itself at the interloper. Long, curved claws aimed for the face.

"Fuck on outta here! Hssst!"

--

Those who tend to stay in Rubilykskoye may still hear of this minor mystery. And then, one night, it comes to them. There is a shadow passing along a rooftop. The creak of rusty hinges as a doors swings open. The gleam of tapetum lucidum, one shining eye in the dark.

A creature... a man? Prowling the streets. Stealing from yards and unsecured shops. Pale. Red-haired. Clad in stolen rags and in goat-hide. A strip of cloth over one of its eyes.

When it is spotted, it runs. Or it tries to. It does not know the village well, and it can be cornered easily. When it finds itself trapped, it bares its teeth in an animal parody of a smile, a single catlike eye darting around as it searches for an escape.

"C'mon, love. A ferr's gotta eat, don' he?"

--

The mystery is inevitably solved. The creature is apprehended, and it turns out to be a person. A feline humanoid that gives its name -- his name -- as 'Halloween Jack,' once he's convinced that nobody means him harm.

He has bright orange-red hair, and a patch over one eye; the other eye is bright green, slit-pupiled. Sharp teeth, sharp claws. Sharp wit. And right now, he is perched on a bench in a holding cell, clutching a mug of water with both clawed hands.

(He has been told that his crimes will be addressed in the morning. He has no intention of sticking around that long. His escape plan? A, uh, work in progress.)

"So there really ain't no ration?" he asks for at least the third time.

((Wildcard? Hit me up at [plurk.com profile] terana ))
Edited 2024-02-07 19:45 (UTC)
heresthebeef: (nor'easter)

[personal profile] heresthebeef 2024-02-07 07:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, she has his interest right away. Slight? Blonde? He likes all kinds of human girls, but there’s definitely one that fires him up extra hot. ]

Yeah.

[ Low and velvety from the grin that’s creeping over his face.

He’ll reach out to tilt her chin up. Get a real good drink of her. ]


You’re made for me.
dead_tongue: (smile down)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-07 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Iggy just smiles. "You're not wrong. Especially if they get it into their heads that they have some sort of legacy to uphold."

Iggy's family legacy is particularly weird.

He pats Will's arm.

"We're almost there. We can get you warm and cleaned up a bit, and you'll feel much better. May I ask what year you're from?"
minuteofangle: (037)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-07 07:46 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah. That’s a telling fucking response right there, isn’t it? That inhalation, the shift in cadence. Gabe’s too well trained for his mask to slip and so he smiles, teeth flashing, and if his tone is a touch frosty, that’s his own goddamn business. Resentment burns in his chest at how easy this is for other people now, that all his games and tricks count for absolutely fucking nothing when he wakes up with no prosthetics in his skull. Anyone can just look at him and know. Anyone at all.

“You’re making me work real hard for this one,” Gabe observes, eyebrows lifting. “What, you hungover or something?”

He won’t flinch. He refuses to flinch and so he’ll push until he gets something to kill the boredom or a reaction he can use.
ligature: (worried)

[personal profile] ligature 2024-02-07 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
He is needy, the same way a beaten dog still desperate to trust the hand that strikes it is needy. Will's vacant gaze travels up to Terry's face, and he can no more turn away from the familiarity he glimpses there than a dog could from a meal after a week subsiding on scraps.

He swallows, then nods. "Okay," he says hoarsely, unquestioningly, and follows in wherever Terry chooses to lead him.
princess_of_ida: (13)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 07:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"Ah." She should've seen this coming. The terms used weren't familiar, but Ianthe was a lyctor that could extrapolate. Sadly, all she knew about Titania of the fairies came from A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"Extra-planar travel is currently blocked by means greater than the power of gods, otherwise myself and the other Void-Touched wouldn't still be here. You'll likely find any attempt to communicate beyond the Void summarily blocked as well."

Back cleaned, Ianthe paused in speaking to Peony to turn and give the villager an appreciative kiss before they got up to leave. A shift was then pulled on over her body as it was still winter.

"I can assist in helping you settle in here for the time being and join the efforts to uncover a means to pierce the Void. I know this isn't the answer you're looking for but it is the hand you've been dealt here."
dead_tongue: (eehee)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-07 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Iggy grins. "I mean, I'm human, sorry to disappoint. But I'm a sex worker. I take performance notes as a matter of professional improvement."

He peers back. "You don't look very abnormal," he teases. "Aside from being so tiny. I think I'm jealous, you can make people carry you around!"
princess_of_ida: (42)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 07:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"Under ideal circumstances, it does take several weeks, but there are other factors that can accelerate the process," Ianthe pointed out.

"The most poignant and common one is intense emotional stress. Drug withdrawal, high levels of physical pain, and exposure to the Void are some of the other known ways to trigger partial or full transformations. With new arrivals, the stress tends to get them."
dethangel: (oh)

[personal profile] dethangel 2024-02-07 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah. What the fucks did we do last nights?

[Not the first time he woke up naked in a weird place, probably won't be the last time, but it's still kind of weird. Something feels off, beyond not knowing where he is.

But, hey, he ain't alone, so that's fine for now.]


This place ams... really weird. Rights? I'm rights, rights?
heresthebeef: (Default)

[personal profile] heresthebeef 2024-02-07 07:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The cuff is glanced at with an uncaring huff. ]

Don’t remember agreeing to obey some dead idiot’s hide.

[ The denial only makes him more determined to get what he wants. He hasn’t come across many redheaded humans. Iggy is looking like a rare treat more and more. ]

And I don’t like small talk. Wastes time.
princess_of_ida: (58)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[She let him tilt her head up, gaze unwavering, but a lazy smile crept across her face.]

See that's where you're wrong. I'm made for something far greater than you or anyone here. But I do like your boldness. I can be yours for a bit.
ligature: (Default)

[personal profile] ligature 2024-02-07 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)
This is not how his particular brand of crazy is supposed to manifest itself. Will stares back at this strange mirror image of himself and can't force coherence on the jumble of his thoughts, or smother the dread curling like hot smoke inside his lungs. He takes two unsteady steps backward on his bleeding feet and wobbles, nearly falls over, and throws out a hand at the last minute to catch himself on the beige stone wall.

"What is this," he stammers, "what are you--?"
hislittleflower: (139)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-07 08:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Disappointing but finally she had some clarity as to why she was unable to leave. The poor villagers that she had interrogated had been quite polite with her an simply insisted she was unable to leave. All she had to do was find a power greater than that of a God. Marvelous; another quest for her log.

But a small spike of anxiety flushed through her at the thought that not only her friends but Lady Titania would be out of communication and Peony curled a long strand of hair around her fingers to fidget with it.

And then the Deathwarden kissed one of her flock and Peony's eyebrow shot up in polite confusion. Had she failed to greet her partner? "If this is how you dismiss your followers, I can't help but ponder how you part with friends."

Sometimes you simply had to say the stupid thing out loud. And then, swiftly, as if she hadn't said anything at all, Peony blithely added; "I would be happy to add my bountiful efforts to the cause."
explosion: (pic#16690182)

02 jESSICA!!!

[personal profile] explosion 2024-02-07 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's not bad, is it?" Wanda's American accent is impeccable to hide behind.

A thin, red collar sits around Wanda's neck. While she's keen to abide by Rubilykskoye's rules to get herself back into the good graces of most of the forgiving townspeople, she's intent on doing it her way. The collar isn't metal or leather; it's red, her colour, and a clear statement that Wanda Maximoff will do things her way.

A small bowl of beef stew sits in her hand. Her expression is gently amused, although not patronising. She remembers feeling on edge when she first arrived in town. (She remembers feeling on edge a few times since then.) Wanda's not the best at the welcome wagon, but she's not someone who leaves those who seem a little disturbed to spiral.

"They make good food here, even if some are a little…" Glancing around, she sighs through her nose. Nudity, nudity, nudity. Will she ever get used to how the Rubeans embrace their confidence so passionately and without fear? "Pantless."
murdercycle: (pipe. check.)

[personal profile] murdercycle 2024-02-07 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah.

I think we’re in Europe.

( No offense, but this feels like a European sort of weird.

He takes some time to look through the drawers to find himself something that fits. He doesn’t even care that it’s not his style, he’s just done with this naked thing.

All the options look especially gross: he’s just looking for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and he keeps pulling out blouses and garter belts. )


All these clothes are old people clothes.
killsyourdarlings: (【 63 】)

[personal profile] killsyourdarlings 2024-02-07 08:14 pm (UTC)(link)
I am not your “buddy”.
ligature: (he means business)

[personal profile] ligature 2024-02-07 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
That flash of teeth gets his hackles up, gets his upper lip to curl subtly beneath the shadow of his day-old stubble. If he were one of his own dogs, he'd be trying to split himself off from the rest of the pack, give himself a chance to run off his sudden fearful, restless energy. Fear, and overstimulation--that's when even the dog with the gentlest nature will bite.

Will isn't sure he ever had a gentle nature, but he is sure he doesn't have one anymore. He smacks his fist down on the table, rattling the crockery, and tells himself he doesn't see the looks thrown his way from others in the boarding house.

"Or something," he snaps back. Then he pushes himself up from his chair and grabs his coat, hauling it on so fast that he misses fitting his arm through one of the sleeves once, twice, but finally gets it on the third try. He's seconds away from making a speedy break for the front door.
dead_tongue: (pout)

[personal profile] dead_tongue 2024-02-07 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay, guy.

Don't be a fucking weirdo creeper.
minuteofangle: (116)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-07 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Or something,” Gabe mocks, and his laughter is low and sharp, some of his original accent bleeding through.

Echo’s got a tang, people say. Echo’s got a bite.

He doesn’t reach out to stop the man—no point in that escalation just yet—but his laughter is answer enough.

“Too fucking easy, man.”
heresthebeef: (nor'easter)

[personal profile] heresthebeef 2024-02-07 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
‘Course you are, flower.

[ Unlike cows, human girls are always so full of dreams and ambitions. It makes them extra energetic, extra fun. Every single one thinks she’s the star of her own show. ]

Hm, well, you may whistle a different tune after you’ve had a ride.
princess_of_ida: (9)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 08:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Are you looking to be my friend, Peony?" The words were spoken low with a stroke of velvet and a clear looking over of the tiny blonde with a lascivious gaze as Ianthe rose, revealing her six feet of height. She reached out to catch Peony's chin lightly with her bone hand.

"You don't have to answer that now. Enjoy the festival. Sate your zadza to keep the monster that lurks within at bay. Learn how the people of Rubilykskoye exist and find a way to contribute." Ianthe then let go and cast a look across the way.

"After my personal business concludes on the day after the festival ends and my vacation ends, we can find the best way to apply your particular skills."
nospecialhurry: (headache)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Percy doesn't look particularly stressed, but that doesn't mean much. (Or in other words, his face is just always like that.)

"And the best remedy on offer is sex or violence? Once begun, can it fade on its own?"
princess_of_ida: (66)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[Ianthe was the fucking star of her show. She was the protagonist, the villain AND the love interest.]

Or maybe I'll be the one keeping you. I can do things I guarantee you've never encountered before.

Now, are you going to please me or just keep flexing?
princess_of_ida: (81)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
"The only way to 'reset' yourself is to sate your zadza. It won't just go away, nor can those of us with control over bodily systems just remove it." Neither Ianthe nor her lord could just make it cease with necromancy; they've tried.

"Word of warning: if there's something specific you're intentionally repressing, it doesn't matter how much you fuck or fight, the curse will come for you."
explosion: (pic#14746531)

hearts festival — cuffgate

[personal profile] explosion 2024-02-07 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Enter stage right: Wanda Maximoff.

She wears a thin red collar around her neck, manipulated by her magic to allow her to play by Rubilykskoye's rules while remaining on brand. She can't help but overhear the conversation (it's a little difficult being a telepath in the town sometimes and she happened to be walking by).

She stops, clasping her hands together in front of her. Her smile's soft; all of this must be overwhelming to someone new.

"Are you allergic to a different type of metal?"

She can fix this. Maybe.