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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?
    poleaxed: tired; gent (the thing is)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-27 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan looks at Ava in her little Amish getup and wonders if she even knows what sex is, how it works. The idea of her finding out here is sickening. She winces in sympathy, unable to hide her reaction through the empty glass of beer in front of her. "It was chaos, and then people started killing each other, and then there was a... sex festival. It just kinda ramped up and up, I didn't have time to look around and, y'know, breathe?"
    abort: (☾ 045 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-27 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
    Ava looks affronted. She looks appalled. Her face barely moves. She falters, her line of questioning dried up.

    "I don't know which part to ask about first."
    poleaxed: hands ; static (should never be seperate.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-27 09:58 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan's beer arrives. She takes a sip, and then passes it to Ava. "It's weak, you'll be fine." I won't let anyone hurt you. She doesn't say it. "Ask whatever you want. I won't be offended. Christ, I brought it up."
    sunmon: (pic#16525069)

    [personal profile] sunmon 2024-08-28 12:29 am (UTC)(link)
    Nothing. Which is only one reason I'm not going to do it.

    [ the other being that she's a decent person. or at least, she'd like to think so. and yet, it did occur to her that it might be done, so ... ]

    But there are plenty who would see it as an opportunity to prove their commitment to community values in hopes that the Duchess might notice and show them favor. Or to improve their reputation among the locals after some slight. Or ... whatever else.
    clawandfang: (limbs lost to a dead wait state)

    [personal profile] clawandfang 2024-08-28 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
    Khoriya goes stock still at the mention of a spell, eyes narrowing to predatorial slits and the low rumble of a growl building in his throat. He dislikes mages on the best of days, does not trust magic in the slightest... but the prospect that this lanky bit of human might have greater power at his disposal is also enough to stop the worg from going right in for a bite over his protests.

    That, and... well, Eliot isn't wrong. He has no particular fondness for human blood, and especially none for blood run bitter with cheap ale and whatever else he might have consumed, to heat the flesh and drive away inhibition.

    "...What sort of spell?"
    boneblood: (3apa269)

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-28 02:01 am (UTC)(link)
    [Wesley likes the way Noth tugs him out of the depths of his own anguish - blinking himself out of old memories, he rubs at his eyes a little and his fingertips are once again normal when he puts the stack of papers back inside a desk drawer. He looks to Noth, a smile on his lips that again is bittersweet - he's jealous of him, in a way. He'd feel a lot better if he stopped missing Wil, the little bits of him, inspiring such a feeling of self-loathing in Wesley that he's begun to feel suffocated by.]

    I think it's better that way. I'm sorry that they hurt you, though.
    angelhunter: (pic#16836669)

    [personal profile] angelhunter 2024-08-28 02:18 am (UTC)(link)
    Hap rolls her eyes. Adept at it, comfortable doing it, however she wants to interpret it would be accurate. He can't be the only person who hasn't immediately taken to haphazardly swinging wide the door to his psyche.

    He casts a glare towards town at the exasperating news that these people are stuck over a hundred years in the past. "Then maybe it's time they learn." Not that it'll do any good if they can't manufacture or import tubing. Voicing that would be pointless; Hap is venting his frustration with his circumstances more than anything else.

    In silence, he counts out the seconds and measures her pulse. Elevated from the ordeal, it's still slower than it should be. Her bandages are nearly soaked through from the stress. Dropping his hand, he tells her, "You can't afford to rest. We have to keep going."
    marcas: (254)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-28 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
    Mm.

    [ He's focused on the hands. He has to ask. ]

    You change when you're upset.
    boneblood: (3ap295)

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-28 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
    [Wesley's quiet, then looks down at his hands. He flips them over, to look at his palms, flexing his fingers before curling them inward.]

    It didn't used to happen so often - it's because I'm... made wrong, I think.
    angelhunter: (pic#16857740)

    [personal profile] angelhunter 2024-08-28 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
    [ He's curious what form that favor takes but he refuses to accept he'll be here long enough to curry a substantial amount. ]

    Well, thank you for not being one of those people, ...? [ He raises his eyebrows imploringly, awaiting her name. ]
    marcas: (203)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-28 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Gradually, Noth mimics what Wesley is doing, down to the slow curl of his fingers. Like he's checking if his hands might start doing the same. ]

    How is someone made wrong.
    boneblood: (3apa135)

    fuck timelines idec

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-28 04:12 am (UTC)(link)
    I don't know.

    [There's a small feeling of loss there - he doesn't know enough yet.]

    I wasn't born, I was made. Of magic and bones, somebody else's - but that's not all I am. There's a part of my Maker in me too. If I was - I'm not right. You can't be, when you're made out of other people's parts.
    marcas: (043)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-28 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Parts of him are Louise, and parts of him are the man who died before she used him to make Noth. Everything else is magic and an alien ichor she never told him about.

    Noth frowns, worried. It creeps into his voice. ]


    But Louise never said I wasn't right. She would have told me if I wasn't right.

    [ Right—? ]
    boneblood: (3apa60)

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-28 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
    You don't hate Louise though, right?

    [How are they so alike. Wesley needs to remember what it's like to be himself, earlier on.]

    I have the man I hate in my chest.
    marcas: (059)

    cw, reference to human trafficking

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-28 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
    I don't hate her.

    [ Words that come to him easily. He likes her, he misses her. He uses her to cope with all the awful people he met after having been traded away.

    This time, Noth brings his hand up to his own chest. ]


    I don't know where she is in me. Can you find her?
    abort: (☾ 081 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-28 11:53 am (UTC)(link)
    Ava takes in the beer. She doesn't need to eat or drink, so there's nothing for her to do with it but look at it. She will remember to ask her questions about the beer later, but now she has to prioritise.

    "Were you hurt as a result of what you spoke about?"
    abort: (☾ 107 ☽)

    [personal profile] abort 2024-08-28 11:54 am (UTC)(link)
    I like to draw.

    I understand the meaning of the phrase, "to resonate with one". But how do you tell when something resonates with you?
    minuteofangle: (027)

    003

    [personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-08-28 12:41 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ For his own reasons, Gabe defaults to audio. ]

    Red.
    Don’t have one.
    The Umber Witch
    And the locals are just tickled when I do the origami thing.

    You’re new. When’d you get tossed into this?
    13sugars: (Boy this is a surprise)

    Abel Nightroad | Trinity Blood | Wilk

    [personal profile] 13sugars 2024-08-28 03:59 pm (UTC)(link)
    [.Arrival]

    Much like the countless others that had passed through the town gates, the young man now before them was as naked as the day he was born, and clearly less than thrilled about it. He had, at least, taken the time to break off a leafy branch somewhere. If nothing else, the family jewels were more or less covered, that could be counted for something of a success.

    Towering at somewhere around six foot four, the lack of clothes laid bare more than just lewd anatomy: broad shouldered, lean and tightly muscled, the silver haired man looked as if he could easily do more than snap a green, living branch off a tree with one hand. The physique was at odds, however, with literally everything else.

    Now sporting one free blanket (and still not ditching the branch), he's presently, awkwardly, trying to find that damn boarding house. Directions? Well he did get them! That doesn't mean shit though.

    "Excuse me! Excuse me- wait up, hey! Could I have a moment? I'm looking for the boarding house? The directions were so unclear, I think I took a wrong turn."

    It's a fifty fifty shot whether he's serious, or whether he's just decided he's done using his brain for a while and has opted to foist that responsibility off on another.

    [.Festivities]

    Guess who has two thumbs and doesn't want to be hit with sticks? This guy. He'll play along, though all the food set out is probably doing all the work making his mind up for him on that one. With clothes on, Abel is far less intimidating at least, maybe even somewhat embarrassing what with how keen he is on chowing down as he wanders about the festival. Only time will tell how bad of a decision this is.

    [-Lock and Key.]

    "Look." Whoever was unlucky enough to get themselves chained to Abel might not have too much of a choice but to hang tight and give him a listen. He's not gonna move until he can get a few ground rules set out.

    "It's just a scavenger hunt, right?" It better just be a scavenger hunt. "Nobody has to get hurt to get the lock off, we can just work together and find the key, it can't be that hard." Said the man who gave up finding an entire house the second he got here but he's relying on his partner to have no idea that actually happened.

    [.Night of the Huntsman]

    There's a multitude of reasons for Abel to partially shake the bumbling idiot routine for this. The town's heavy reliance on their hunters, the safety of the hunters themselves being put into question, a need to return the favor for being housed and clothed. It wouldn't have taken too much to get him out the door right now anyway, but these factors made turning down the search and rescue party impossible for him.

    The good Father has been busy actually putting all that strength to use here, the cudgel he'd been handed for protection already spattered with arachnid ichor. It also doesn't look like he's about to stop either; as another blood colored spider collapses into a quivering pile of pulp and shattered chitin, the man just wordlessly steps straight over it, marching deeper into the darkness with a disquieting, almost mindless determination.

    [-PvP]

    Everything is a threat, that much is clear now. This entire place is rife with danger, beasts and monsters crawling out of every crevasse and hole. At least, that's what it looks like to Abel, out here in the pitch black void, swearing up and down that he just heard someone, they were right over there. Surely, it had to be the missing hunters, there was simply no room in his head for any other option.

    All he had to do was break everything between himself and the embattled hunters, of this he was now utterly convinced. That cudgel will be turned upon anything and everything that moves, the man's teeth bared in a feral, mindless rage, his face and clothes already spattered with viscera from the last creature who fell afoul of him.

    It doesn't look like he's snapping out of this state any time soon either.

    [.OOC]
    [Got an idea of your own? Feel free to tag with that! Also feel free to hit me up with a PM to this account if you have any questions, or something you'd like to shoot past me.]
    poleaxed: static; joke; smile; hand (of insane)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-28 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
    She doesn't drink it, and Joan wonders if the girl's-- for surely she is a girl-- restraint is a blessing. What's she doing, plying her with booze? Joan needs to get a fucking grip.

    "What part? Everything here being crazy? Yeah, kinda."
    poleaxed: gent; hand (no no no.)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-28 07:34 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan is trying not to think about how much she's bleeding. She's trying not to think about how they're sitting on farmland. Don't a bunch of parasites grow in farmland? Joan can't remember where she read that, if she even read it. It sounds like an episode of Little House on the Praire.

    "Get me a big stick or something," Joan says, realizing belatedly that it sounds like more of a command than a request. Whatever, he's a grown fucking man. He can deal with it. "I'm not gonna make you carry me the whole way."
    boneblood: (3apa230)

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-28 09:33 pm (UTC)(link)
    I could try.

    [But, again, he drops his gaze to his hands.]

    I don't know how to find her though, without something to go off of. I know someone who might know more, if you'd like me to introduce you sometime. I wouldn't call her a witch, but... maybe you would. So you don't have to, if you don't want to.
    marcas: (076)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-28 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ He tenses slightly, then asks himself if he has a reason to. There's a witch here who didn't treat him unkindly. Maybe this feels different because he'd be going by Wesley's word, and Wesley's word feels like a gentle warning. ]

    That's okay.

    [ The tone suggesting he's dropping it. It's fine if he doesn't know which parts are Louise herself — it's not something he's ever had to know, really. ]

    I'm sorry you have someone you hate in you.
    boneblood: (3apa87)

    [personal profile] boneblood 2024-08-28 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)
    We can talk about it another time, if you'd like time to think. Maybe I'd find a way to better be able to use what... I can do.

    [Maybe he can learn from Ianthe, then use that himself? Not addressing the last part:]

    Do you want me to show you how to put books away? So we can find them later, when we need them.
    marcas: n (022)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-29 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
    [ It's a good pivot. Noth refocuses now that he's being given something concrete to do. ]

    Yes, I want to do that. Show me how.