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rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-06-18 01:02 pm
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SUMMER TEST DRIVE MEME

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ 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 coming 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: nudity, D/S mechanics, public sex, aphro, death, missing persons.

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 emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. 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, is running actively again as the weather warms back up from the recent snowstorm.

As you explore, 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, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.

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. Parts of the house still bear the dust of disuse, gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. However, it's already full of people! Anyone who's already appeared in the village just as you did today lives here. Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, and some scorch marks still linger from a recent fire, and some furniture is still lying around in splinters.

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. 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. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.


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 breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks 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 or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



THE FESTIVAL OF SUMMERTIDE

Summer is in full swing, which means it's time to take advantage of the warm weather! Around the town, various games are being played, some sport-based and some more concerned with creativity, problem-solving, sex, or 'fun'. Each round begins with a prayer to the Duchess. Not bowing your head in prayer may get you a few stares from locals, or worse-- opponents may be extra motivated to defeat someone so disrespectful to her Grace.

Each Thursday, buildings are festooned with wreathes of wildflowers, tables are laden with food and drink, and everyone is given colored sashes to wear over their clothes. Festival goers are not allowed to enter the main events unless they wear a sash, and to get a sash they must reveal their curse marks. Those marked with the curse of Wilk receive blue sashes, Diabel get red, Skala receive green and Niez are as ever adorned with grey.



Summertide, the locals are eager to explain, is a festival about adapting to the needs of others, and accepting things as they are. What perhaps isn't explained nearly so well is the expectations placed upon festival goers. Each event has a goal to be achieved, balanced on the point of competition or participation.

Tables overflow with refreshments, especially drinks and chilled fruit to cool the summer heat. Rubeans traditionally spice their foods with aphrodisiacs, something that is so culturally normal to them that they don't feel the need to mention it.

  • An outdoor feast starts the festivities, with commanders, who are expected to give orders, and followers, who must follow the whims of commanders, whatever they decree. Who commands and who follows is decided by the curse-marked sash participants wear. But there's a twist-- every three hours, a horn blows, and the roles switch at random; commanders become followers and vice versa. Many festival-goers, now in a position of command, are eager to get petty revenge on the followers now at their mercy.


  • Fencing! For health reasons, any cut must be properly cleaned, and kept free of contaminants; for this reason, fencers are expected to compete fully naked. Otherwise, you might get some cloth in your cuts!


  • Wrestling! Wrestlers are well-oiled for the matches, making it hard to keep your grip on a slippery opponent. The winner of the match is declared when they have their opponent pinned... and at that point, the winner can do anything they like to the loser until they can get away, if they even want to.


  • A game going on throughout the town, regardless of whether someone consents to participation, is something the locals call Lock and Key. The rules are explained after you are grabbed and tied by your wrist (or ankle, whatever was available) to someone else: the locked binding tying you two together is blessed to be unbreakable until you each draw one another's blood... or find the key, stashed somewhere in the town. Good luck!


  • Anyone who refuses to play along will be ejected from the festivities, and made to run through the crowd while being whipped with thin wooden sticks.


  • Throughout all of this, some of the implementation of these games may occasionally come across as either overly cruel or overly kind. The common people of Rubilykskoye are of two minds when it comes to the treatment of newcomers: some think you are beneficent, sent to fix their problems and free them of your woes. These people, called Blackguards, will do their best to make sure your participation in the games is not marred by cheating, excessive violence, or pain. But others, called the Zlatniki, think little of the outsiders coming into their lands, and will do their best to twist their native traditions toward cruelty and vindictive unfairness when it comes to the Void-touched.

    writer's block?
    If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try participating in events, having your characters go against opponents, be drafted into the games against their will, or watching others perform!


    NIGHT OF THE HUNTSMEN

    Rumor moves through town quickly: two nights ago, a hunting party went out into the wood, and no one has seen them since. Anyone who wants to prove their worth to the community is encouraged to join the search parties going out to look for them; in Rubilykskoye, those who provide food for the community are highly prized, especially when they brave the woods to do so.

    You see, the woods aren't entirely safe. Near the town, it's nothing to be alarmed by, and of course the search parties find nothing there. They must delve deeper, and that's where you end up. 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.


    Many peel off, going back to the town proper. The searchers become fewer and fewer. Maybe some of them are going back home, but maybe they're getting lost. Eventually, you walk around a large tree, and you're alone. It's just you and 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?

    Yet the further you go, the more convinced you become that the missing hunters are near by. You're sure you can hear them on the wind, their voices calling out between the trees. Did you just see something out of the corner of your eye? You have to find them. You have to make all this darkness worth it.

    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! Feel free to find the bodies of the missing hunting party-- or hallucinate that you did.


    RELEASE YOUR INNER BEAST

    Something's wrong here.

    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
    Early one morning, alarm bells are rung. The people of Rubilykskoye are quick to explain while boarding up their windows and locking their doors: The Szymanskiy brothers have all transformed! Their inner beasts - duchozweirz, the natives call it - take the form of creeping, skeletal horrors. The beasts hunt and to kill, ripping their prey apart, but that's not all they can do.

    Those who are lucky enough to escape one of the Szymanskiy triplets will leave feeling... changed. The psychic residue these monsters give off cause the afflicted to seek out danger with reckless abandon; they will run toward the monster, into fights, and refuse safety when offered. They must be restrained in a secure location to wait for the pheromones to wear off.

    (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?
    nepotist: (pic#16719788)

    [personal profile] nepotist 2024-06-19 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
    [He does. Eventually he leads her up to him and Sweeney's room, the perfect example of a bachelor pad if ever there was one. His side of the room is tidy and bare, and he sets about grabbing more pillows for the bed for Lucrezia, along with some sheets for the floor for himself.]

    When did you arrive?
    hunts: (pic#)

    [personal profile] hunts 2024-06-19 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
    [ she catches it. sets the stick down beside her, props it against her thigh, and pulls on the shirt. it's long enough on mina to at least skim the bottom of her ass, thanks to joan's height. good. that's one problem solved.

    she picks the stick back up. she considers its weight for a moment, then studies the web. scrutinizing. she tosses it up, catches it at the middle of the staff, then throws the stick like a spear through one of the load-bearing tethers of the webbing.

    it splits. stretches. joan sags in it. there's more web beneath her, however. mina considers this, then goes back to eyeing the splitting tether above her. counts a few beats, then jumps forward as it snaps. she doesn't catch joan in her arms. nothing so elegant. but she gets her by the hand, and pulls her over the mess of webbing and nest with her, lets her go rolling on the other side in the rough dirt and mulch.
    ]
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (MSrlyzJ)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
    They always squabble.

    Daemon has spent too much time in dirty back alleys and dimly-lit brothels to be so easily manhandled. The ones who think they're clever-- and this one clearly does-- have a tendency to give warnings. Daemon can understand the impulse. It is a fine thing to think oneself the victor beforehand. He sees himself as a victor in all things.

    The difference is, he's not interested in fucking around.

    The chain that links them is a point of strength. Daemon, shifting away so that this creature's kick lands on his knee, pulls him to the side. All six feet of Daemon come crashing forward, with the full intention of landing atop his companion.
    minuteofangle: (133)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-06-19 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
    Pretty damn fast, it turns out. Gabe just flashes his teeth as his kick connects somewhere decidedly less tender and his new best friend surges forward, using weight and momentum to try and get him on the ground where that knife will certainly come into play.

    Gabe doesn't bother yelling or thrashing. Just twists and goes for a judo throw, trying to toss the fucker over his shoulder and put him down hard. They're connected, bound together by one of the local bullshit games, but so what? He refuses to bend.
    romanholliday: (worried!!!)

    [personal profile] romanholliday 2024-06-19 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
    Lucrezia is far too grateful for the added layer of fabric to protect her modesty to be overly concerned about her pride in this moment. Gratitude shines in her eyes as looks up at Gilia and smiles, the expression flickering at the edges as the beginnings of exhaustion and shock finally begin to work away at her composure.

    "Thank you, my lady," she says, and doesn't mean for it to come out in almost a whisper. "I--thank you, so very much. I'm sorry--" she fumbles with a bit of cloth, reaches up to press it against her lash line, "--I suppose I'm just overwrought."
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (g9ths07)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
    Daemon Targaryen is comforted that someone knows the respect he is owed. His head tilts to the side. Perhaps he'll favor this woman. Perhaps he won't. He hasn't decided, and in that ambiguity lies his own power.

    He steps forward.

    "How warm for the north," he says, droll. He doesn't know where he is, but he knows where he isn't. Still, nowhere else can he reason being identified without being bowed to. And he should like to see her pretty head bobbing.

    "Daemon," he says, and takes this as an opportunity. "King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms." (Even he knows what his title will be, and it's a stretch to think himself not Prince Consort, but if a man cannot dream when faced with an ignorant peasant, what can he do?)
    onlycake: (073.)

    out of the woods

    [personal profile] onlycake 2024-06-19 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
    [ She looks different than he's ever seen her, except maybe for that night he'd led her into Flea Bottom in borrowed rags. Fabrics made for walking the trails in the woods, for helping Ari around the cabin. Still in her skirts, even though plenty of women wear pants here.

    He looks different than she's ever seen him, but nothing could matter less to her. Blood and all, the sight of him cuts so sharply she could cry. Very few could have come out of the woods and screamed 'home' louder than him. It's only his nakedness, the disorientation she knows he must be feeling like she had, that keeps her from dissolving.

    The Valyrian comes so naturally to her lips that one would never known she'd only once had the occasion to use it in months. ]


    𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊.
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (Default)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 12:46 am (UTC)(link)
    So Daemon is thrown over the shoulder of a small, ill-bred simpleton. He lands rough, and intends to make it rougher; they are still connected, and every yank and pull is a message to both of their bodies. Move, move. So he moves this ruffian, pulling his arms together and rolling to the side, intending to catch his wrist and reel him in.
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (Fvtgy8n)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
    [She is always beautiful. That is the problem. Seeing her so small and weak, has always pressed a bruise into his heart. It feels like something infectious, something hot and inflamed. It feels like dragonfire.]

    [He wants to touch her.]

    [He does not. (She's filthy.)]


    𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚? [Anger is a finely tailored suit, for him, but that makes it no less true.] 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘?
    minuteofangle: (003)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-06-19 12:51 am (UTC)(link)
    It's a good throw. Unfortunately, the other fucker doesn't get stunned by it. The reaction is nearly immediate; this fucker's fast, all right. And trained. Gabe hisses as he's hauled forward, stumbling before he can correct and going down hard.

    He twists as he goes down, wrenching hard against the chain. And punching forward with his hidden knife in the same breath. Gabe knows himself. He has to win this thing fast or he won't win at all. Shock and awe, the way the Wolves taught him.
    romanholliday: (gossiping)

    [personal profile] romanholliday 2024-06-19 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
    [well this is--not the Vatican. Lucrezia stands in the doorway and looks about the interior of Cesare's rooms with an odd look on her face--a mixture of her hurt from earlier, and dismay that her brother clearly intends to sleep on the floor--and so seems to miss what he says to her, at first. then she blinks, drops her eyes, and takes a few steps inside.]

    Last night, [she says simply and laces her hands together in front of her skirts. she sweeps her gaze back up to meet his, studying him.] When else could I have arrived? You ought to know very well where I was, the day before.
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (dYy9kHO)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
    Daemon lets himself be stabbed, maneuvering it into the flesh of his shoulder. It's the same place an arrow pierced him, once upon a war. Did he have any business being in that fight? Does he have any business being in this one? The thought makes him smile.

    If he gets what he wants, it's not losing.

    Daemon draws his blade down along this ruffian's arm, watching blood bead up like rubies. He would suck the blood off, if they weren't in public. (Daemon things they put something in his food.)

    The handcuffs unlock with a gentle click.
    nepotist: (pic#16739367)

    [personal profile] nepotist 2024-06-19 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
    I arrived here many months ago...almost a year. Time is different here. Many things are different here. [She will learn that the hard way, he is sure. He hates that. He turns to face her.]

    You have a mark on you. Where is it?
    minuteofangle: (005)

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-06-19 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
    The knife sinks in. Gabe twists it instinctively, barely reacting at the sudden flash of heat and pressure along his arm. There's a distant thought that maybe it fucked up a tattoo, one more indignity among the many, but it's fleeting. Unimportant.

    Then the cuffs unlock. Neat as you please.

    Gabe bares his teeth, sunglasses threatening to fall, and wrenches the knife out.
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (dYy9kHO)

    cw fucked up vibes.

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
    He grunts with the pain of it, and watches, amused, as his own blood splatters over the other man's chest, runs down his arm. Daemon reaches out and caresses the side of this man's face, watching the shape his blood makes on his mangy skull. "That is a gift."

    (They definitely put something in the food.)
    onlycake: (154.)

    [personal profile] onlycake 2024-06-19 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
    [ The way he looks at her and sees her, even with that tinge of disgust that does not elude her notice, feels enough like an embrace that she does not reach for him. He's found her, he knows her, he's here.

    But how could he know what Aegon had done to her? Her hand flies to the scar on her chest without thinking, the taste of steel never far from her memory. She's been out of her finery so long she doesn't even think about what she's wearing. ]


    𝕬𝖊𝖌𝖔𝖓. [ The name tumbles out, hot with hatred. ] 𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖘𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗.

    [ She doesn't expect him to understand. She hadn't at first, but he needs to know. If Aegon came after her, who's to say he won't send Aemond after him? But that's when she finally seems to notice the hair clinging to his improvised club.

    Brown, not silver. Disappointment rather than horror colors her face. ]


    I don't believe that was him. I'd never have such good luck.
    romanholliday: (worried!!!)

    [personal profile] romanholliday 2024-06-19 01:06 am (UTC)(link)
    [she stops short at that, eyes widening in disbelief.] A year? That can't be--

    [an abrupt intake of breath, the colour draining from her face. she wavers unsteadily on her feet.] Giovanni. What about Giovanni?

    [(you might have to ask that question about the mark one more time, Cesare.)]
    minuteofangle: (005)

    welp this will be interesting

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-06-19 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
    What the fuck. Gabe jerks, going tense at the sudden touch. The feel of blood smearing hot against his skin. This is a gift.

    He bites those searching fingers, in the meantime. Not at all gently.
    nepotist: (pic#16739402)

    [personal profile] nepotist 2024-06-19 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
    [He shakes his head, thankful that Giovanni is far from this place.]

    It is just me here. Or it was. [He pulls the slightest of sheepish smiles and then takes a step towards her, looking over her for her curse mark.]

    Now your mark...
    romanholliday: (pretty in blue)

    [personal profile] romanholliday 2024-06-19 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
    [it's a cozy little alcove in the boarding house common area, and it becomes clear that no one has stolen it yet because Lucrezia already claimed it for herself. there's still a glass of wine waiting for her, and a book she'd been thumbing through from the library.]

    Only a little, [she assures Daphne, squeezing her hand once.] I've seen all sorts of people from all sorts of places. Kings and queens like to send emissaries to Rome. Would you like any wine?

    [reaching the table, she releases Daphne's arm and reaches for an empty glass and the carafe.]
    romanholliday: (a sweet girl)

    [personal profile] romanholliday 2024-06-19 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
    [her heart gives a traitorous stutter when he looks her over like that. Lucrezia looks down and away from that smile, even if she feels an answering one flickering at the corners of her mouth. then she looks up again, abruptly, at that question.]

    It is on my leg. Do you want to see it, brother?

    [spoiler alert, she knows you do, etc.]
    littlemissfutility: (F6K08vo)

    beth greene | the walking dead | niez

    [personal profile] littlemissfutility 2024-06-19 01:22 am (UTC)(link)
    When Summertide comes, Beth shows off her neck just long enough to be assigned a grey sash - and then she wraps it around her neck, scarf-like. If everyone sees the curse mark on her throat, that's one thing, but she's not anxious to show off the gunshot scar above it.

    feast: commander

    She's learned her lesson about participating in stupid group activities here: You do them, and you don't complain. There's more of them than there are of you, and they don't like it when you don't play along.

    But this one's a roller-coaster of moods for her. A little excitement at the idea of a festival, even if she already knows it's going to be weird and probably a little creepy. (It's still novel to be safe enough to celebrate things. It's still exciting to dress up.) A little dread at the whole commander-and-follower thing. And, after sampling some snacks, a loosening sense of concern for anything.

    The horn blows, and grey sashes are in charge - and here she is, grey-sashed and the aphrodisiac version of buzzed. Playing a party game doesn't seem like the terrible idea it did at the start; everyone plays games at parties.

    "Tell me what you want to do," she says to someone, giving them a little smile. It's an earnest question, even if the answer won't necessarily dictate the orders she gives. Maybe it'll just give her some ideas.

    feast: follower

    The horn blows again, and grey sashes are followers. And she kind of wants out, but this is how the game is played - and maybe it'll be over fast. God, she hopes it'll be over fast. Maybe she could leave? She could just skip this part and come back later.

    The trick is, she's pretty sure you have to look casual about it. I'm going home to use the bathroom, and then you just don't come back. But she's pretty sure if she kicks up a fuss, it'll be a problem, so she's sort of ambling, trying not to look suspicious about edging away from the group.

    When someone stops her, she pauses, her expression guarded. "Um. Hi."

    feast: later

    By the end of things, she's sitting with her back against a wall, her knees pulled up against her chest. Her sash is crumpled, hanging loose around her shoulders. She doesn't look up as people pass.

    lock and key

    Some animal instinct says run when a cuff tightens around her wrist, but she can't. There's somebody on the other side, bound to her, and trying to squeeze her hand through isn't going to work.

    Beth makes herself take a breath. It's just a stupid handcuff. It's like the finger traps you used to be able to win at the county fair; if you struggle, you can't get free. If you relax, you can. They can do this the quick way or the slow way, and after all the other bullshit that's happened, she's not sure which she'd prefer right now. Peering first at the bonds, and then at the person behind her, she asks, "How much blood?"

    If all they need is a papercut, then screw it. They can cut each other.

    wildcard.

    [ ...Or something else. Feel free to PM this journal or PP [plurk.com profile] hellzapoppin if you want to discuss any details beforehand. For more info about Beth generally, check this info post. ]
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (g9ths07)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
    𝕺𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉? 𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖉𝖘 𝖗𝖔𝖇 𝖚𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖊.

    [He spits each sibilant with a disgusted hiss. This kind of poetic theatre is also his due, and it feels right. If he cannot stab and kill his enemy now, he may as well swear it to the stars.]

    [And there is Rhaenyra, small and soft as a maiden, as the beautiful light she was. It is a relief, perhaps even a guilty one, to see her so, and not the woman wracked by bitter grief. Did he leave her? Is she gone? Has he traded her for this waif, unruined by Harwin Strong?]

    [He kneels and holds her face between his hands. There's nothing to be done about the nudity, now. He keeps it out of mind until it's relevant.]
    It will be his soon enough. I need only sword and plate. Not even plate, if he is in his cups. [Anything for her.]
    nepotist: (pic#16719792)

    [personal profile] nepotist 2024-06-19 01:27 am (UTC)(link)
    [A nod.]I do. [He plays the answer straight, ignores any attempt at innuendo entirely. They are family, after all. It his duty to protect her.] In this world, those marks have many implications. It marks where you stand in this society.
    fiat: that's why i'm dad's favorite. (MSrlyzJ)

    [personal profile] fiat 2024-06-19 01:29 am (UTC)(link)
    Daemon is fast, as mentioned. He moves way just in time not to lose a finger, though there is a bite mark now, welling blood in a crescent from his palm to his pinky. He makes a fist over the other man's head, watches the blood dribble over him.

    "What is your name, you wily thing?"