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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?
poleaxed: anger; fight (water doesn't)

tw: also that stuff, and childhood abuse trauma.

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-22 09:08 pm (UTC)(link)
How many times had her father hit her like this? The ringing pain is familiar, the moment of confusion. She knows to keep trudging through it, to refuse to be knocked back. She can't go limp like this, naked under a stranger. She's no saint, but she knows even the martyrs fought until they died. She has to do this, she has to struggle, even as--

What's wrong with his eyes? He's got no fucking eyes? She keeps strangling him, forcing her thumbs into the soft skin of his throat, not letting herself flinch even as she wants to toss him away.

"What the fuck are you?"
friendzied: (233)

[personal profile] friendzied 2024-02-22 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
[ there's a pang of guilt she can't quite keep to herself, a welling of concern and sympathy, but julie figures he doesn't exactly wanna hear all that right now so she takes a breath and goes for the understatement instead. ]

Shit, Eddie.
That fucking sucks.
guitarpicks: (91)

[personal profile] guitarpicks 2024-02-22 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
yeah, all i got out of it was some trauma and my mark moved places ( all understatements )

you should come see the new spot jem and i are staying at
hislittleflower: (160)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-22 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Ianthe was wise to pull back as Peony's snapped in a neat bite in response to the unexpected kiss.

"We can waste time boring you senseless with the detailed clauses and intricacies on the limitations of my vow of chastity or I can make you come. I know which I prefer." She had gingerly tested the line many times but in truth, Peony wasn't sure what the snapping point was. Each time she dared to dip her toe into deeper waters, she had found her magic still yet complete and no sign of her patron's wrath at a wayward warlock.

So many people were flesh but Ianthe seemed to be steel - unflappable in the face of what should be shocking and provocative. Peony made a silent promise to herself at that moment that until she was rescued from this demi-plane, she would dedicate her efforts to vexing this smug monument of a woman. "Oh, I think it would take a good deal more than a few kisses and some suggestions to make you weak at the knees. A Great Oak is never felled by one swing of the axe."

As much as Peony was revelling in the unresolved tension of their impasse, there was a strange demand in her to take Ianthe apart and leave marks, bruises and bites behind so that she wasn't easily forgotten. And in an extremely rare feat of her meagre strength, she put her hand on Ianthe's hip and thigh, lifting her up to sit on the table, disconnecting her chain from her cuff. "Do make yourself comfortable, my lady."
Edited (fucking html) 2024-02-22 21:18 (UTC)
minuteofangle: (001)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-22 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Pain is a distant thought now, with the enemy’s hands wrapped right around his throat and her chest heaving under him. She’s naked and unarmed, but thrashing, going for the soft parts he’s got no armor to protect—not this time. They’re entwined, going for each other with the sort of brutality that only comes from practice. It’s been a while since Gabe’s had to beat someone to death but he remembers how it goes. How the adrenaline makes it easy until the very end. How the bone chips catch in the skin.

He grabs her by the hair, hard. She might choke him out if it escalates worse, but he’ll break her skull open on the ground: they’ll race and see who wins. “Say uncle,” he hisses. Say fucking uncle or they’ll do this thing to the death.
friendzied: (231)

[personal profile] friendzied 2024-02-22 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Near the greenhouse, right?
I'm on my way to see her.
guitarpicks: (22)

[personal profile] guitarpicks 2024-02-22 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
yeah

greenhouse is my new totally respectable business :)
hislittleflower: (159)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-22 09:26 pm (UTC)(link)
I wonder who might win in a race. Me flying or you running.
clawandfang: art by oceanwrath @ twitter (Default)

unquiet dark.

[personal profile] clawandfang 2024-02-22 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
There is a giant wolf loping along the edges of the Void, a gray-furred beast with a long braided mane and mismatched gold-brown eyes. He sniffs at the frayed edge of the world, baring his teeth in a silent snarl to find it unchanged, then continues on his weekly circuit.

Except this time, Khoriya finds something new. A human woman, curled up and shivering in the darkness. Pathetic. Vulnerable. Helpless. He thinks to leave her be - no good had come of the last time he'd rescued a human from their own hapless foolishness - and yet...

No one is here to see him do otherwise.

"Get up." There is no kindness in his voice, even as Khoriya nudges at her with a cold nose and whiskered muzzle. If she does not obey, he'll nip her sharply in the shoulder, pointed fangs breaking skin.
hislittleflower: (054 (Happy) Eeeeeee!)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-22 09:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Her arms hooked under their armpits to make a safe hold, clasping each of her wrists to clamp Ari tightly against her. "Yes, I can fly." She grunted with the effort of carrying a passenger, not half as fast as she usually was, but soon enough they were up in the air soaring above the jumping height of the spiders. "I'll take us to the edge of town but then I'll have to head down. The wings freak the villagers out."
friendzied: (303)

[personal profile] friendzied 2024-02-22 09:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Damn, get a load of Farmer Munson.
guitarpicks: (53)

[personal profile] guitarpicks 2024-02-22 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
that was a condition of getting the greenhouse bc i wanted weed
friendzied: (156)

[personal profile] friendzied 2024-02-22 09:48 pm (UTC)(link)
So what else do you grow?
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (Default)

tw: eye stuff.

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-22 09:53 pm (UTC)(link)
She doesn't want to die, and she can't give up. All this pain has to be worth something. Saints resist until the end. "F-fuck you." Her voice is shaky; her vulnerability allows her to feel a terrible fear, and it sneaks through into her voice. Is this the end? It would make sense.

Her thumbs move off his throat, and her hands move up, beginning to jam her thumbs into the darkness where his eyes should be.
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (Default)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-22 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Something not quite human speaks; in the darkness, she almost feels the shape. A monster. Has death finally come? She's long ago stopped expecting that breathless embrace to be kind. (It never quite takes, though.)

A wolf, and wolves don't have a lot of symbolism behind them. A lion creature, maybe, or a serpent, a man holding his own head, these are things she's prepared for. A strange werewolf convinces her she's not going to die. The grim reaper would be at once more alien and more familiar.

She stands, and wipes tears angrily from her eyes. It's a comfort that she hears no pity. She doesn't want pity. She wants the clarifying cut that comes with conflict, all edges sharpened into pain. "What the fuck are you?" Her voice is still wet, wobbly from recent sobbing.
minuteofangle: (006)

tw: eye stuff, biting

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-22 10:11 pm (UTC)(link)
No dice. But then, he knew that. A fighter like her, a scrapper, she won’t go down gentle. She reminds him, however distantly, of Prior, baby sister thrown to earth and left to die. Prior, who screamed and roared like a beast in the scrum, who’d use her teeth when she ran out of bullets.

Prior, who’d go for the obvious weakness just like this woman does. It sends pulsing, starburst aches through his skull: a curl of revulsion hot in his chest as she forgets his throat and goes straight for the place his eyes used to sit.

And in honor of his baby sister, Gabe leans forward and bites the goddamn hand that’s going for him.
otherbitches: (MPsK9s8)

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-22 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
[ One, two, three, Nancy's not the only one that can hit a bullseye. He's smiling back, pleased to instigate, to see her sweet smile and the hard glint in her eyes. ]

I think that's the name of the game, princess.

You here all alone?
pharmacy: (032)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-22 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
In the months that he's been here, Quentin has come out to help guide people in and found them in all kinds of moods. His first assumption on hearing the scuffle is that someone is already exploring the most animal way of venting zadza. It isn't until he hears say uncle sizzling between the shuffle of cold dirt and leaves and limbs that he realizes they've found the most human way to do it, and the occluded shape between the trees look much more fucking sinister. 

Quentin drops the bag he's carrying (clothes, boots, scarves for folks just dropped) and bolts for them, hops and minnows around trees with singular focus. If the noise wasn't warning enough, he calls out ahead of time: "Heyheyhey! Enough!" Neither face strikes him as familiar; he doesn't know what kind of reaction he's going to get putting his hands on either of them, but hey--at least he's in full winter gear, a little bit shielded if they want to turn their teeth on him. His forearm shoves against Gabe's chest, open gloved palm against Joan's bare sternum, exposed fingertips fitting between her ribs. "Let go! Back the fuck up, let go!" 
poleaxed: angry; hand; fight (nothing)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-22 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
So Joan is pushed back by some kid-- no, he's not a baby, he's just got big eyes. Big, sad eyes that remind her of Newports and summer rain. In a moment, she hates him, but the flash of rage falls to the side when she registers that he's trying to save her; the loathing curls inward, internal.

The calf-eyed man, who's now seen her naked in the dirt, peels back her eyeless attacker. Joan knows a good turn when she sees one, and slithers out from underneath the body atop her. "He's a fucking monster."

It's not her fault. None of this is her fault.
Edited (is it snowing? i dont know man i dont live here.) 2024-02-22 22:40 (UTC)
minuteofangle: (088)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-22 10:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Blood blooms like iron in his mouth, staining his teeth. Gabe curls his lip back, feeling nearly manic with it, and he laughs as he lets go, as he staggers back and gets to his feet. The world goes topsy-turvy, adrenaline surging, his skull aching with a drumbeat pulse. There's someone else here, now. By right, he should kill them both. Should've snapped the woman's neck, drawn the knife he's got hidden in his boot and dealt with the man.

Could've, should've, would've. Too late now.

And then, of course - of course - his tech glitches out. Leaving him with nothing at all.

Gabe bares his teeth, angling his face toward them. He can't hide the horror of his goddamn eyes, so he doesn't try. And he doesn't waste time trying to grope around on the ground for the sunglasses: it won't matter. "Oh, fuck you. That's what you fucking get when you swing at somebody."
pharmacy: (109)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-22 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"She just got here, dickhead, you--" He started the sentence before he had time to really look at either of them as individuals and not half of a roiling cloud of teeth and nails. He's halfway through before he realizes that the man is blind. Quentin's mouth works for the rest of his sentence, but it doesn't come. A glance back at her: the filthiness is obvious on her skin in a way that it isn't on Gabe's clothes, mouth looking venomous as she spits and gasps. How much does who started it matter?

"--look. Look, assholes, the good news is we're all monsters. Trying to kill each other probably just bought you both a couple more days of humanity. Christ. Lady, I've got--" He points roughly towards the direction he came from. "--go get my bag. Start with the clothes, we'll worry about the bite later."
poleaxed: awk; joke; hand; emb (well if you want)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-22 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
That open-eyed look makes Joan finally feel shame for her nakedness; she covers her small chest with one arm and her hand goes down to cover the rest. Standing tall with her back against yet another tree, she lets that invigorating ache echo through her body, filling it, giving it meaning. She's still here.

"Shut the fuck up. Nobody cares about your sob story." She spits in the direction of her former attacker.

Only when the other man, the peaceful man, mentions her bite does she remember it. Raw and wounded, prickling with blood, and she can't touch it or she'll reveal her shame again. She walks, shoulders back and spine straight, to the pack, refusing to be cowed. Only one eyes are turned from her does she dig for clothes like the filthy animal she knows she is.
minuteofangle: (130)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-22 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Gabe bares his teeth again, like an animal, and flips her off. It is, perhaps, the most universal gesture known to man beyond stop - a thing he's never said to anyone, ever, and never intends to. You don't play with shit that's not going to matter. You commit, you protect yourself, you fucking destroy your enemy. And now he's got her blood in his teeth and precious little to show for it.

How's that for irony?

"You're flat as a goddamn board," he sneers, throwing out an attack so she'll get pissed again, start something, he doesn't fucking care. Anything that shifts the energy away from the fact he's going to have to grope around for his stick in a minute, for the glasses.

He tries it subtly, shifting his boots through the snow to try and bump up against it.
ghostlocked: because that spell uses a lot of glitter (hmm • seems i contaminated a crime scene)

[personal profile] ghostlocked 2024-02-23 12:05 am (UTC)(link)
I'm the mistress of King Oberon, got it.

[Some of these names she's dropping sound vaguely familiar, like some play he was forced to read in high school. For a brief moment he considers that she might be fucking with him. If she is, he can't see another motive beyond "it's funny," so he decides to take it all on faith. She's clearly having a blast. He's not about to ruin that for her.]

That would be clever, yeah. She hasn't confirmed or denied it by now? That might be a good sign. Sounds like she has more reasons to keep it secret than to string you along.

[Wait.]

The virginity thing wasn't... You're just banned from having sex ever?

[Granted, he'd still make that deal. Maybe. He's not a fan of selling off his free will. This warlock pact stuff sounds messy.]
ghostlocked: but that's just cause i got shit to say, you know? (tired • i'm talking to myself)

[personal profile] ghostlocked 2024-02-23 12:09 am (UTC)(link)
What's there to talk about? I made fries once. Ta daaa.

Seems stupid to dwell on shit we can't have anymore. Didn't you just say something to that effect?