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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?
gunshooting: (10)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-23 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
[ It knocks some of the wind out of her, that invocation. Tightens her jaw, straightens her spine.

Looks away from him, eyes skipping over the spectacle occurring on stage, the parade of scantily dressed onlookers. She has a clear picture in her mind of who she wishes were here, but Nancy came through the forest and into the boarding house by herself, without— ]


Why? Worried about me?
clawandfang: (teeth ready for sinking)

cw: fantasy racism & references to slavery

[personal profile] clawandfang 2024-02-23 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
"I am the beast that will make a meal out of you, if you succumb to this place."

It is a bluff, mostly, but one that he expects quick results from. Khoriya has never shied away from eating humans before, has decidedly not gone soft in his time here, speaking with humans, begrudgingly allowing himself to come to know them as something other than mewling prey fit only for the slave pens, an unwelcome reminder of his own mixed mongrel heritage. That he does not choose to devour her now is only out of practicality, no other reason.

She unfolds to her full height, and Khoriya regards the human woman before him with cold eyes - surprised to lift his jaw slightly to meet her hostile gaze. Finally he jerks his chin to the side with a whuff and a swish of tail, indicating the direction she should walk.

"Go on then."
medals: (014.)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-23 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
I know I said clothes were optional, but do you want a blanket first? You'll freeze your tits off.

[Julie's touching her, and it's real. She's not some fucked up hallucination conjured from the void, from the stress. Jem's hand closes over Julie's wrist, and then tugs her in. First in the door, away from the biting cold, and then straight into a tight embrace, however brief. She says, very quietly: ] I missed you. Don't make it weird. [and then lets her go.

Inside is mostly a mess of a half-finished floor. The bed isn't made. The fire is warm though, and Jem's got at least half a dozen sweaters and pants that'll probably fit Julie. Hell, some of them are probably Julie's anyway. ]
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (Default)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-23 12:43 am (UTC)(link)
She can't let herself be cowed now, after everything. She thought he was some psychopomp, some inhuman thing she didn't need to worry about showing her fear to. But disappointing reality sets in: this is an unreal world, with inhuman inhabitants. He's a monster, but a recognizable one, under all the fur and scars. He tries to intimidate her like any human would.

She flips him off. "What do you want?" She sticks her hand back down just as quickly, shoves it into the pocket of her trousers. Her back is straight, her chest is slightly puffed out-- unconsciously, she takes on the form of a creature on the defense. "If you were gonna eat me, you'd've done it by now."
medals: (j 2x4 057)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-23 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
An observation. They were cutting hearts out, and you never know what someone's into.

[She can remember the gun, now. Vague images, a fucked up little imagination for everyone to see. He's arrogant, she thinks. Dangerous. He thinks he's powerful; he thinks he's important.

She sits back, doesn't bother to tighten the knot of her towel. Lets it go loose, lets it start to fall away. She tilts her head a little, eyes him again. Gives him a proper once over, a final consideration. ]
You're not going to get a gun here. Not a real one. They might carve you a wooden one. Or blow you a glass one.
otherbitches: (GQKOVUE)

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-23 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
[ That's who she was, wasn't she? Steve Harrington's princess, the one who got away? He should know better. Ironically, this place has been making him know better, and yet, he can't fucking help it: ]

Well, sure. I don't see Byers around. Or that cuck Harrington. [ Oh, unfortunately it feels good— fuck his complicated feelings around Steve Harrington, already admitted up to Jem like a lanced boil.

His eyebrows raise. He looks cheerful. ]
I guess you just got me. [ And he offers his arm. ]
gunshooting: (7)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-23 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ That twist in her chest; not for Jonathan, more distant memory than tangible presence, but for Steve. Steve who was supposed to be here. Who'd been there all through Vecna, all through the blood-soaked violence of the Fog.

When her gaze sweeps the crowd again, it's with the useless, futile hope that Steve would simply materialize. But he doesn't. ]


You really like this, don't you? [ she asks, her tone like a knife.

But she still takes his arm. ]
pharmacy: (209)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-23 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
Swinging distance put between them a couple times over, Quentin finally releases his breath and the fighting tension in his knees and elbows. It doesn't quite leach out of his hips or shoulders, lingers in his throat as he warns lowly, "Hey, man, I think she knows. As long as we're stating the obvious, you're acting like a prick. Here." 

That sound is him pushing the walking stick closer to Gabe's wandering fingers. He doesn't realize glasses are missing. 

In the bag on the ground about thirty feet off, near a rough-beaten path that she might have found if she decided to keep walking instead of taking a swing, there are a couple of loose shirts and roughmade trousers. It's all more the type of thing someone would wear around the house, handmade and a little lumpy, big enough for most anyone he might find out here. It's more about modesty, but there's a wool blanket tangled between pieces of clothing. 
descendente: (015)

[personal profile] descendente 2024-02-23 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
Hmm. The festival certainly made it easy to find out.

[ All the truth-spilling drinks, the food that gave people that final push when they might have otherwise held back. Frank didn't care much for the gory displays on stage; not because he's sensitive, but because it was a fucking mess.

And uninteresting, which was the greatest crime. When he opens his eyes, met with the sight of more bare skin, Frank makes an observation of his own, though that one stays silent. Then: ]


Couldn't get that one out of your mind?
medals: (0102.)

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-23 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
I just think it's important to manage your expectations.

[Realistic desires and all that. She tips her head back, lets her eyes slip closed and exhales out a sigh. ]

I didn't catch your name.
otherbitches: (cEZOpMi)

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-23 01:07 am (UTC)(link)
Hell yeah. [ He says and it sounds like a joke to him, maybe real to her. He takes her arm and leads her into the throes. Someone's eaten something, he thinks one of those cookies, gotten so warm they've nearly stripped down to nothing, their sweaty body crowding by them before they're followed by an equally nearly nude partner. Billy's shoulder angles as they push their way through.

He feels a little bad she's seeing a lot of unsolicited dicks. But he doesn't say it aloud. ]


What's not to like? I was getting pussy in Hawkins, but it was boring vanilla pussy. Not a bad afterlife, right?
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (Default)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-23 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Joan can count on one hand the amount of times she's been defended, verbally or otherwise. The warm feeling it evokes in her reminds her of being in a pool when someone's just pissed in it. She doesn't need this, doesn't want it, could do without it, but there it is, anyway. Having been divested of her chosen response-- she does know, yes, get some new material-- she finds clothes instead.

She ignores the blanket. It feels desperate, even as her body aches with cold.

Vindication will warm her. She refuses to acknowledge any fault she may have had-- she knows she hit the first blow, but who would him, when he was found on top of a naked woman, trying to kill her? Being a woman is, in this rare instance, an advantage; she will use it as such. "Do you attack everybody you come across, or d'you wait for them to be fucking nude? Pervert."
gunshooting: (14)

[personal profile] gunshooting 2024-02-23 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
You're disgusting, [ is said more mildly than it might have otherwise sounded.

She is uncomfortable. And she's self-conscious about it, just as much as she is about the collar around her neck or the expectations turned on her by the villagers.

And it feels absurd that any of this has survived in her, after Vecna, after the Fog. ]


Where are we going?
clawandfang: (and he's lost faith he'll ever see again)

[personal profile] clawandfang 2024-02-23 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
He responds to the rude gesture with a lazy snap of powerful jaws, a casual threat rather than any real attempt to bite off her hand. But some part of him approves of her spirit, the swift change from sobbing wretched creature to this snappish, fighting animal and his tail gives a slow swish, one side to the other.

"What I want is to scout this stretch of forest without your pitiful whimpering drawing in vermin far and wide. The spiders here are much more fond of squirming prey than I am."

One ear swivels back, catching the slight shift in the underbrush, the skitter of many, many jointed legs as Khoriya swings his head back, a black lip curling back in anticipation of the swarm.

"But it is too late for that. If you'd rather stay and be devoured by them, be my guest."
minuteofangle: (097)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-23 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
His tech, stubbornly, refuses to cycle back on. It's been glitching out a lot lately, he thinks distantly. More than it ought to, and for a lot longer. It shouldn't be down for longer than ten seconds but he's lost it for almost an hour already here and God, wasn't that just buckets of fun? And now his enemy, she of the flat fucking tits and mean right hook, has an ally. He's outnumbered and all he's got is the little knife tucked into his boot. Barely anything.

Not good. Better to go on the offensive.

He hisses at the noise, cocking his head to try and pinpoint that shit - but it's just the man pressing the stick closer.

He snatches it up before it can be taken away from him. Guard yourself, motherfucker, he can hear the instructors jeering. Or they'll get your ass and you'll deserve what they do. The glasses are gone, lost in the scuffle, and that'll be a humiliation he just has to bear now because he refuses to get down on his knees and grope around for them. Not in front of the enemy.

"You're not my type," he shoots back. There are other implications to that moment, the fact he was on top of her and she was naked: he doesn't want to go there. "And I really hope that shit gets infected."

The human mouth is a filthy thing. Bites so rarely heal how they ought to. And by God, if that's the only victory he can snatch from this moment, Gabe will fucking take it.
otherbitches: (8ytHOt4)

a heart is a tremendous thing

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-23 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ It's not so bad once you get used to it, the killing, the careful parceling of hearts. After Mavis showed him how, he'd felt such a strange fucking rush. Like snorting coke, followed by a deep fucking crash. Technically, he's got a handful of names of people he killed, that turned to liquid meaty mush after he chloroformed them, stuck them in trunks and warehouses. He did that, but this is different.

It's a different festival night, but there's still more animals, still more hearts, not enough people ushering forward. A coordinator flags him, pulls him in, smiling earnestly and pulling him towards another void touched. "Do it together. It'll be easier," they say.

He turns to look at her, frowns. ]


Thought you were dead?
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (Default)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-23 01:23 am (UTC)(link)
It, he, whatever, speaks a language she can understand. Threat and attack are weight and counterweight. Something about the promise of hurt in those jaws has her interest. She walks with him.

"You were hunting." She's never seen something like this. There's nothing about wolves and men in her understanding of the universe, but the universe is strange, and has fooled her before. She rolled with the punches then, and she will again, by God. "You're a werewolf? Why don't you attack me?"

Is her beating, bloody heart not good enough?
otherbitches: (q5CsWkJ)

[personal profile] otherbitches 2024-02-23 01:25 am (UTC)(link)
Thanks for noticing, sweetheart. [ Batted back, easy as pie. He is disgusting, it's sweet of someone to notice after all of this bullshit. ]

You get turned around from the boarding house or are you curious?

Where do you want to go?
descendente: (012)

[personal profile] descendente 2024-02-23 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
Very important, I'd say, in a place that far exceeds anyone's expectations.

[ Unless you already had monsterfucking and ritualistic evisceration on a list before you woke up in the woods, Jem. ]

I didn't give it to you.
pharmacy: (130)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-23 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
"Guys!" He shouts with all the frustration and futility of an owner shouting down barking dogs. One arm waves in Gabe's general direction, but he marches slowly after Joan. "Enough, that's enough! Look, you're both--you're both new? Wow! Welcome to Rubilykskoye! I'm Quentin! What a pleasure, what an honor. Who wants to stay here and count to 100 before following the rest of us?"
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (Default)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-23 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
Joan considers flipping her opponent off, but he wouldn't see it, would he? Just this Quentin guy, and what good would that do? She huffs, showing that she's not giving up, just deciding the conflict is stupid, and walks without fear toward Quentin. She carries his bag with her, and hands it to him. "What d'you mean, 'new'?"
minuteofangle: (027)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-23 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
Gabe cocks his head, listening intently. Quentin's the shouty one, who interfered. And who came with a bag full of clothes.

Interesting.

He taps the stick on the ground, doing a slow sweep to try and find the goddamn glasses. But he listens, too. If they lunge for him, he'll make them regret it.

"You the welcome wagon, or something?"
pharmacy: (074)

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-23 02:21 am (UTC)(link)
"I am when I can be," He explains as he takes his bag back, pulling out the blanket that Joan had willfully passed over and...passing it to her again. "I work at the apothecary. I'm apprenticing there. It's been a busy month, so I haven't been out a lot. Lucky me, timing it to catch a fucking problem.

"New people tend to come out of the Void in waves. A couple weeks every few months...more people show up out here. We try to keep an eye out, especially when it's this cold." A long glance back at Gabe. "When did you get here? You found the boarding house and everything?"

(The idea of the boarding house sparks a mumbled aside to Joan, assuring, "There's a donation bin there, you'll probably find a few things that fit you a little better. Something over nothing for now, but...")
poleaxed: emb (the eye.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-02-23 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't need-" Charity. It comes out of her mouth on instinct. But her head hurts, and some vain desire makes her want to look good in Quentin's eyes. Not be good-- meek and simpering and weak-- she isn't capable of that. But she doesn't want to disappoint him yet.

She will, but not yet.

(The thing is, he's weak. She knows he is, she can see it in his eyes, the way he works himself up about her, about them, about caring for others and working as an apprentice. He's weak. She doesn't have to waste her venom on him. He isn't a threat. This is what she tells herself.)

So she takes the blanket, and his advice. It is cold, and she is dirty; the blanket fixes none of that, but hides the evidence. Her shiver, for starter, the way her lip and jaw twitch. "I've had worse than this prick," she says, to save her pride. "We'll all go back together. I won't let him fucking assault you, and you can call the police or whatever."

There, now, she's in charge.
minuteofangle: (032)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-23 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
Then, like magic, his tech cycles back on. Gabe works his jaw, bowing his head, and cycles it to search for the goddamn glasses. Then he kneels down like it was his plan all along and snatches them up, shoves them back on where they belong. It's a fun new humiliation the universe has decided to toss at him - custom made, he thinks, because the glasses work to a point but only a point. And after it's reached, anyone can figure out that he's got no goddamn eyes.

The reaction he gets is variations on the same. Horror, pity, revulsion. He knows they look a horror. Knows, too, that people think they can play him because of it.

Sometimes they can. But he makes them pay every time. And his tech is going to say a secret as long as it possibly can.

"You're the one who swung first," he points out snidely. She, his nameless enemy, who Gabe hopes dearly will get frostbite on her tits. "Ain't no police here."

That part was explained. That part he heard just fine, even if he's still wrapping his head around the whole sex cult nonsense.