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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?
femininerage: (010)

alecto | the locked tomb (niez)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 01:39 pm (UTC)(link)
FESTIVAL

There is an ugly mark upon the very ugly flesh of her human body. It sits harmlessly on her hip, and it's easily hidden once she's dressed. But she knows that it's there and knowing that it's there makes her itchy. They told her, three days ago, that this made her a Niez and she hadn't liked it one bit. She knows what she is, now, and it certainly isn't a Niez. Yet the mark persists and she wakes in the uncomfortable busyness of the boarding house each morning, awakes with all this noise in her head and finds herself very cross about it all.

She's very good about not screaming. She wants to scream a lot. She wants to scream out loud more than she would like to scream at the very loud and very annoying voices that filter through her head, but she keeps it to herself. Distantly, she thinks that the people she once thought she loved would be very proud of her for that. Less distantly, she thinks John would like that a lot too. She has mixed feelings about the last one.

On the fourth day she goes to the festival because that's where all the noise is directing her. She doesn't dress particularly as though she's ready for a festival, really. There is a top, and there are trousers - on her feet, despite her very large and present dislike to wear them - are a pair of boots, each on the correct foot. Her hair is tied haphazardly atop her hair, and she thinks, when she glances at herself in the mirror, that the blond of it all is so ghastly on her. She misses her dark hair terribly. She misses the soft silk that had been Harrowhark's beautiful, beautiful hair. Each time she sees herself she thinks she ought to stab John again and again for making her this. Pale; blond; doll-like; really and truly very ugly.

Her mood doesn't improve by the time she's in thoroughfare; someone tries to put a collar on her and she bites, furiously, and hisses: "Off!" In the middle of them trying to appeal to her to stop biting please, she turns to you and bares her teeth, and says: "If you touch me, I will chew your whole arm off! I will!" And she will.

-

Once the drama is over with and she has, very miserably, been convinced to wear a wrist collar, she wanders straight out to the stalls. The food holds no appeal to her, even the cookies. She drifts to the toys after this, and finds herself much more interested in the stranger dildos, the paddles, and the anal beads.

The latter of which she holds in her hands, the beads huge by comparison. Awed, she murmurs: "How does it fit?" And, to the tentacle shaped glass dildos, whispers, a little sadly: "Oh, there used to be so many of these inside of me. So many. They're all dead now, you know."


ROOMIE

Before all of that, on the first day, she is guided to the boarding house dressed in a shift, a jumper, and someone's very tattered shoes. She quite likes them. The sweater is very itchy, however, and upon finding a room with a bed that is unoccupied, she takes the sweater off in a flurry and says: "Phew!"

The second thing she says, upon flinging herself upon the bed after it, is: "They said I had to find a room. I'll be sleeping here," and that's really that. No if's, no but's, this is hers now. "Please don't snore. I think I'll be really upset if you snore."


NETWORK


PLEASE. STOP. TALKING. IN. MY HEAD!!! I. REALLY. DO !!!NOT!!! LIKE. IT.

THANK YOU

- MARGOT ROBBIE xxxxx

PS WHOEVER KEEPS HAVING VERY LOUD SEX JUST NOW, STOP THAT. YOU SOUND VERY BAD AT IT.
Edited 2024-02-07 13:40 (UTC)
bisquik: (083)

Dorothy Lyon • Fargo • Skala

[personal profile] bisquik 2024-02-07 01:40 pm (UTC)(link)
KNOCK KNOCK
[ The woman is clearly a new arrival, dishevelled and dirty and naked, fresh from Pajak Wood. Her mascara is smudged and her eyes red like she's been crying, though there's no sign of it in her sweet friendly smile. She's rapping on the door (or doorway) of the first house she's found — one of the people who live outside the walls. ]

Hi there! Sorry to be a bother. Just wondering if I could use your phone real quick? I won't be a sec.


BLOOD FLU
Oh, nuts.

[ Dot looks down at the blood coating her fingers, which she's certain means she just got her monthlies, and then up to check for anybody watching. When it becomes apparent she's not alone, though, she simply leans into it. ]

Timing, huh? Don't suppose you have a tissue on ya.

[ Friendly, ingratiating. There's red at the edges of her smile, where her arm is crossed over her bare chest for modesty there's a green mark peeking out of her cleavage that makes it clear why her bodily fluids are suddenly all bloody. ]


ASSIGNED DOMINANT
[ By this point, Dot has shoes and clothes and has had a nice night's sleep in a bed, so her pleasant demeanor is a little less strained. Still, she's not happy about being away from her kid so long. She's doing her best to make everyone's aquaintance, get what information she can, and that includes being ushered into a line to hand in her chastity belt. ]

Oh, I'm sorry, I can't help with that. No, no, I just got here, I don't have anything like that.

A mark? Oh sure.

[ Once she's established as a Skala, the man hands her a leather wrist strap, and she takes it with a polite thank you. It's only when she sees someone else being given a collar that she knows to be relieved. ]

Actually, I just remembered, I do have somewhere else to be. Thank you so much. Can I just hand this right on back to you? No, I insist. That's right. There we go. Bye now.


NETWORK
Nice weather here.

[ That's all, no follow up. Just a soft Minnesotan accent testing out using her mind to say stuff, since she's having to listen to everyone else's conversation. Dorothy doesn't really want to have a real conversation, and she sure doesn't want to talk about the nudity or the blood or the festival. ]




(( prose also loved. open to wildcards of fellow new arrivals in the forest; deciding to share a room together; chatting over breakfast or in the sauna; or any of the food prompts!

threads may contain spoilers for season five. ))
Edited 2024-02-07 13:42 (UTC)
verbol: (2GbK5fy)

knock knock

[personal profile] verbol 2024-02-07 01:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jim doesn't have the luxury of sleeping late anymore. He's awake before dawn most days, just a couple hours after if he's lucky. The fire is already going when the door goes, and he's already brewing something hot over it for breakfast. He's become a tea drinker despite his best efforts, and this is really only for the lack of anything else. He's not very good at brewing it, but there's a pot ready to go.

He answers the door in his onesie, expects anyone else really, besides a naked stranger. It's so early, that the first thing out his mouth is: ]
Ah, geez. [And then: ] No phone out here, I'm afraid. You uh - you better come inside anyway before you catch your death out there.

[He is very politely keeping his eyes on her face. ] I think I have some sweaters that'll see you through today.
unconscionable: (106)

[personal profile] unconscionable 2024-02-07 02:12 pm (UTC)(link)
This is, John thinks, going to be very bad for his marriage.

"Good morning, Annabel," he says instead of any of the other things he wants to say. The begging words, the accusations. He's not wearing a shirt, and he also doesn't have his sword, which currently seems like a violent oversight.

He's horribly aware of her as a separate being to him, as a source of inconceivable power that he isn't actually properly linked to anymore — if he was they'd be having a conversation in the rubble of his new castle. But despite their separation he can still resonate the bits of him in her, the bits of her in him (the ones that have him turning into a fucking flower these days, his own Niez mark stark on his palm.) He's also horribly aware that her sweet little hands holding a sex object is doing complicated shit to his insides. This festival had already been a trial — now it's a goddamn execution.
femininerage: (008)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 02:19 pm (UTC)(link)
She can feel him before she can see him. This hasn't changed, even if he feels very far away from her now. John Gaius feels like he might be in another room, their tether muted and blocked by a very thick wall. Alecto goes very still, her hands around a tentacle shaped dildo that she feels quite sad about, and she breathes out of her human lungs with a very disappointed gust of air.

She hates breathing, of course. She always has to do it, to remind herself that she must breathe. She must breathe now, because she feels so very cross so suddenly - so terribly mad that she turns and she thwacks John across the face with the glass dildo because she also does not have a sword, and this will just have to do. "Don't call me that," she says, hitting him on the arm with it for good measure. "My name is - Margot Robbie. I decided that just now."

It's nice to decide things, isn't it? Nice to have choices. She doesn't hit him a third time. Instead, she places the dildo back on its rack and says, fondly: "You look like you've seen a ghost, John."
princess_of_ida: (28)

Assigned Dominant

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Turning it back in isn't going to get you out of expectation.

[Ianthe had been watching from a bit away, a leather collar clearly on her neck. This woman was new, so the necromancer decided to play nice.]

I can help you pass their eye test, let them think you're participating.
unconscionable: (080)

[personal profile] unconscionable 2024-02-07 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"It's not," John says longsufferingly, once he's popped his jaw back into place. And then, a little hurt: "I always thought you liked Annabel Lee. The Poe thing."

But that doesn't really matter. She's stopped hitting him, at least, for the moment, and she also isn't touching the sex toys anymore. A double win. He gets back up again, reaching for her both spiritually and physically. Needing to feel her physically there, the familiar atoms of her.
nospecialhurry: (Default)

Percy Fredrickstein von tl;dr III 🜍 Niez 🜍 Crit Role

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
🜪 Hearts.

Curious about the lives of these people, Percy wanders through the festival and where and when possible, barters for food and drink. There's nothing on the list that revolts him and if he's able to get a bite to eat, he'll take it gladly. (Especially if it's the satay, or later in the day, the gluwein.)

He doesn't yet have access to a forge, but soon he will - there's no little town that doesn't need a smithy and he knows that once he has a hammer in hand, soot in his hair, and an anvil in front, he'll feel more like himself.

He's not fond of the slim, black leather collar around his throat, but for now he can swallow his pride and do what's required to blend in. Deep in his chest he's confident that the others of Vox Machina will find him - something shading towards optimism or belief in others is a novelty.

The sacrifices unsettle him. Aware that this is the local custom, he watches but keeps drawing unpleasant parallels in his mind between this place and another. It doesn't seem innately harmful or evil, but he can't sense that like some others could. "Is this generally how food is slaughtered around here or ...?

🜏 May I, the humble servant, not be destroyed; declare that "It is over"!

It starts out simply, barely any difference at all; the light reflects off his glasses in an odd way. There's no fire nearby, but the lenses reflect flames or just a simple, bright light. Percy can tell that something has changed, but never one to show weakness in public and certainly not in front of strangers, he takes himself outside to do some work. Chopping wood. Maybe some physical exertion will take the edge off...

It's while he's in mid-swing that he puts a name to what's happening. It's not a new feeling, but one he has only been able to name through its absence. The knowledge and the terror it sparks in him, startles him enough so that he misses his swing, splintering the log, as the ax-head swishes by his leg close enough that it brushes the fabric.

"Damn it all to hell." Dropping the ax, he looks down at his hand where there's a quill-sized shard of wood buried in base of his thumb.

🝐 OOC.

Howdy buds, let me know if you need additional info, what a custom set-up, etc.
femininerage: (003)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 02:37 pm (UTC)(link)
She doesn't push him away. She couldn't possibly, she thinks, ever push John away whenever he reaches for her. "I'm trying something new," she says, about the name. "I liked being Nona, and I'll like being Margot Robbie for a little while, too," as though names are a mercurial thing.

She still feels cross. But John is so very close, and he looks so very handsome and she doesn't like the look on his face, the one that means she's hurt his feelings. If anything, she thinks, her feelings should be hurt having been put to sleep for so long. "Stop making that face, I won't feel bad for you. I won't." She will, of course. She does. She reaches for him too - small hands against his face, very warm despite the cold. She frowns as big as she can, and adds: "I mean it, I won't feel even a little bit sorry for you if you keep making that face, so you better stop."

She can't really feel him at all, is the thing. The tether is so muted. She is wholly herself, but herself is only half of herself because John took the other bits of her for himself. It's a strange absence. Her thumb presses in against the hollows under his cheek bones, and suddenly very watery and sad, she leans in and presses her forehead against his. "John, I can't feel you. Isn't that strange?"
diosapate: (pic#16388067)

network !

[personal profile] diosapate 2024-02-07 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Easier said than done, love.

( He thought it sensed a... presence. He should be terrified, and he is, but she seems rather preoccupied. If she's hearing thoughts, Augustine thinks it's more of a her problem. Pretty rude of her to shove her mess onto everyone else's plates, but what has she ever known of decorum? )

That's for the first half, mind you. I've not been having sex, loud or otherwise, for what it's worth.
Edited 2024-02-07 14:42 (UTC)
princess_of_ida: (53)

Wood

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 02:43 pm (UTC)(link)
"Some think we're already there," said Ianthe as she stacked some wood from the far end of the pile into the arms of an animated skeleton.

She raised an eyebrow, turning more toward him. Another new arrival. "You didn't cut your foot off, did you?"
nospecialhurry: (headache)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 02:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Hell? No, if Percy was in one of the planes of Hell, he's quite sure there would've been a very different sort of welcome committee.

"No. No, I didn't." He looks down at the meat of his hand, and frowns at the splinter which doesn't hurt the way it should. It hurts, yes, but it feels off. He shakes his head to refocus his thoughts and then turns to the other person ...and the skeleton. That, well, that's upsetting. Percy doesn't have a good history with necromancers, but he's Making the Effort to be polite.

"And if this is Hell, my sense of self-importance is sure to take a blow. This? This is the Hell we all get?"
femininerage: (006)

CRYING

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
MAYBE BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU!!!!
diosapate: (New Project (5))

[personal profile] diosapate 2024-02-07 02:54 pm (UTC)(link)
( This is fine. )

I see you've learned the joy of capslock.

Have you been privy to emoticons just yet?
ligature: (glasses!!)

will graham | nbc hannibal (diabel)

[personal profile] ligature 2024-02-07 02:54 pm (UTC)(link)
i. arrival
He shows up on the outskirts of town, a cagey stray dog of a man who will be courting frostbite if he's out in the elements as he is for much longer. Someone must have spotted him on his solitary journey down the old dirt road, because he's got a roughspun wool cloak tugged around his shoulders to ward off the worst of the cold. No shoes, though. His feet are bare, pale, and encrusted with both blood and dirt.

There's nothing about the gate threshold that should be keeping him out, but he ends up standing there anyway like the act of stepping out of the wilderness and back into civilization's embrace has left him poleaxed. And so when he catches movement in his peripheral vision--someone else entering the town through the gates, or someone leaving, it doesn't really matter--he looks their way and asks in a weak, reedy voice, "Is this real?"


ii. boarding house
He's hunkered down at the end of a table in the common area with a bowl of porridge and something hot and fragrant to drink in front of him. Will only looks up from his meagre meal if anyone addresses him directly, and even then, there's a detached quality to his grey eyes that suggests he isn't looking at the newcomer before him so much as through them, back in time to another place entirely.

Still, he wasn't raised in a barn. "Might as well sit down," he says to whomever, and shifts over on the bench to make room.


iii. wildcard
[ooc: if these don't work for you, please feel free to throw something else at me or hmu via DMs @ [plurk.com profile] ragweed to discuss something else c:]
Edited 2024-02-07 14:57 (UTC)
princess_of_ida: (Default)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 02:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"Good. I'd rather not have to reattach it for you." Ianthe went back to stacking wood, the gold of her skeletal arm catching in the light.

"The Hell aspect comes from the monsters and the Void. I think of it as more of a prison of sorts. Or the eye of an entropic hurricane."
bisquik: (0201)

[personal profile] bisquik 2024-02-07 03:02 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Dot really feels that "geez". ]

Oh, I'm doing just fine.

[ He's a big guy, and it seems like he lives alone. Even if the smell of tea is so tantalising. ]

Don't go to any trouble for me. Any other folks live around here who might have a mobile? My husband's expecting me.

[ She isn't wearing her wedding ring, woke up without it, hope he doesn't call her a liar. Though even if it wasn't true she'd say it anyway: she's some other man's property already. That's what they respect. ]
nospecialhurry: (Default)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 03:02 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'd rather you didn't have to as well." As Percy watches her, non-existent flames continue to faintly reflect off his glasses. He looks down at the axe, at his injured hand, and the way the blood drips from the wound. Focused as he is on the splinter, he doesn't notice the way it hits the leaf litter around them with a slow 'pat' of sound before vaporizing and curling into red-black smoke around his feet.

"May I ask you a bit more about the monsters?"
femininerage: (003)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 03:03 pm (UTC)(link)
YES

HOLD ON


🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕
princess_of_ida: (64)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 03:08 pm (UTC)(link)
"You can ask me anything. I might even answer," Ianthe replied. She placed one more log in the stack and sent the skeleton off back to her house. The construct walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

"I'll probably answer," she clarified, walking over to where he was. Her eyes immediately went to his injured hand. "Give me your hand."
nospecialhurry: (dark profile)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 03:12 pm (UTC)(link)
His first instinct is to pull back and keep his injury to himself. If he were feeling more like himself he already would've done that, pulled out the shard of wood, wrapped it, and gotten back to work.

"Those in the woods, were they all once villagers?" He approaches her, cautious as a feral cat, and holds out the injury. As the blood rolls over his palm, there's a strong and sudden scent of smoke and smelting iron. "Or is it half and half? Lost people and local fauna?"
diosapate: (New Project (3))

[personal profile] diosapate 2024-02-07 03:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, chick, it seems there's nothing here for me to teach you.

( He'll be moving on nOW BYE!! )
bisquik: (0279)

[personal profile] bisquik 2024-02-07 03:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Huh.

[ Dorothy considers her potential saviour: skinny, ambiguously young, an arm that Dot politely won't mention, a nicely braided hairstyle that she might.

She drops her voice, conspiratorial.
]

You don't have to, y'know. I can manage. And surely someone'll be missing you, if you play pretend with me.

[ But she's only being polite: it's a good offer. A little bit shameful, but she gave up caring about shame years ago, so long as she was safe. Keeping her head down and doing what the Romans do was how she lived her life a lot of the time. Just, normally it was a PTA meaning or her HOA, not big men with metal accessories. ]