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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?
    decorative: (pic#16209501)

    Chevalier de Lorraine | Versailles | Diabel

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-01 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
    IN THE WOODS - Being sexy prey cw: mention of injury. attempted manipulation

    [The Chevalier has been wandering about the forest for hours. Never exactly an expert in navigation, he has walked in circles for far too long, growing increasingly tired and desperate. His feet are bleeding. His hair is a mess. He wants a fucking drink. Exhausted and entirely unimpressed, he catches sight of someone and his survival instincts kick into gear. He does what he knows best and collapses, shifting his legs towards the light so that they are illuminated as flatteringly as possible.]

    Is someone out there? [He knows someone is out there.] Please. I do not have the strength. [But perhaps someone who enjoys flattery and wants to feel big and burly just might.]

    THE FESTIVAL OF SUMMERTIDE - Consensual drugging. Eat up, babe cw: aphro. drugs. open to men for now, please.

    [The Chevalier is no stranger to drugs. Having snorted and sipped more questionable substances than he can count, a bit of sexually charged food doesn't sound all that bothersome. He finds a mark that he thinks looks particularly either handsome or useful and makes prolonged, deliberate eye contact with them as he bites down into a cherry. He slides closer and holds the second cherry of the pair to the man's lips, daring him.]

    This isn't your first, is it?

    SOMEONE ELSE TRANSFORMS - Freaking out over the whole monster thing

    [A town ruled by sex and violence? Fine. That sounds like Paris on a Friday. But the monsters are something else. The Chevalier is tremoring when he rushes up to the nearest person he can find. His voice is feeble, a forced, panicked hush. His eyes are wide and glossy as he paws at the person in front of him, clutching his fingers into the fabric of their shirt.]

    I saw...I........creatures. Horrific creatures. [Please believe him. He's not sure he believes it himself.]
    moondregs: (i'm afraid to leave the house)

    Summertide

    [personal profile] moondregs 2024-08-01 12:36 am (UTC)(link)
    [ It is not Junpei’s first, or even his second or third. Really, he’s lost count of how many festivals and parties he’s attended. How many tainted food and drink he’s consumed. How many people he’s tangled with when the effects of said food and drink take away all his pesky inhibitions. Nowadays he consumes them on purpose. Seeking that wonderful freedom. To be unburdened by his stupid overthinking brain.

    And so, when an unfamiliar but handsome face appears and offers him fruit, soft lips and tongue only allow a beat before devouring it without breaking eye contact. The glassiness of his eyes says he’s already in deep. ]


    No.
    decorative: (pic#16209505)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-01 01:31 am (UTC)(link)
    [The Chevalier's lip quirks up in a smirk and he hums, watching Junpei eat.]

    Good boy. [He places his fingertips under Junpei's chin and lifts it to look at him smiling.] I think you have been here for some time... [Does he mean this party? Does he mean Rubi? That is unclear. But either way, the Chevalier is curious to hear more from this soft, sad-looking young man who is clearly petulant but doesn't have enough confidence to look at anyone with both eyes.]
    moondregs: (sometimes you scare me)

    [personal profile] moondregs 2024-08-01 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Oh. It’s been awhile since he’s been called that. It feels good right now, while his brain is fluffy and his mood is light. A pleasant tingle runs down his spine.

    This feels good. This attention. Exactly what he craved when he got himself into this state. It’s a huge bonus that this is a stranger. No worrying that he has to reflect his occupation. ]


    Mmm. Yeah … don’t think I’ve seen you before, though …
    decorative: (pic#16209501)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-01 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
    I am new. [He announces it deliberately, holding his fingers under his chin as he poses.] This town is so very small that you know everyone here? You must tell me who is whom. Who is worthy of attention and who is not. [Ultimately, Junpei can say whatever he likes. The Chevalier will be the ultimate judge. But nonetheless, it's nice to receive some insight.]
    moondregs: (inventing lovers on the phone)

    [personal profile] moondregs 2024-08-01 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
    I don’t know everyone intimately …

    [ A scrunch of his nose as he realizes he wants to word that differently. ]

    … er, all the details of their lives. But I work at the hospital and attend gatherings. I see a lot of the same faces frequently.

    [ As for the rest of what he’s saying: ]

    That’s subjective, isn’t it?
    decorative: (pic#16209501)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-02 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
    [The Chevalier leans in a little, presses their legs together like he is trying to spur an exceedingly shy horse. It is encouragement. A reward for good behavior. This can be interesting.]

    Of all the people in this town, who are the ones that continue to find themselves in harm's way? [So that the Chevalier can avoid them, or at least not associate himself with them publicly too much.]
    Edited 2024-08-02 22:46 (UTC)
    moondregs: (and the nights they last forever)

    [personal profile] moondregs 2024-08-02 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
    Felipe.

    [ Delivered absolutely deadpan as his eyes drift down to the pressing legs. Getting close was part of the expected outcome of fraternizing in this headspace, but he’s never had someone go about it quite like this before. He’s intrigued. ]

    Mm, Quentin too. But it’s because he’s so soft hearted. Felipe is just an ass.

    [ Yeah, no filter, he’s been drinking. ]
    decorative: (pic#16209501)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-25 02:02 pm (UTC)(link)
    [The Chevalier hums thoughtfully and nods as though he follows, as though he knows exactly who Felipe and Quentin are and he agrees entirely. Junpei, you are doing so very well.]

    And who hurts them?
    moondregs: (your privacy)

    [personal profile] moondregs 2024-08-25 02:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    With Quentin … usually those he loves.

    [ Eyes flick away. Guilty. Junpei knows he’s in that bucket. That he’s hurt his friend with selfish and foolish choices.

    He’s able to squelch the gnawing guilt by switching back to the other named party. ]


    And Felipe hurts himself with poor decision making … uhm, what’s your name? I don’t think I got it …
    decorative: (pic#16209505)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-25 02:48 pm (UTC)(link)
    I am the Chevalier de Lorraine. [Aware that he is talking to a plebeian, he quickly translates:] Where I am from, if you are well bred and well liked, you find yourself with titles. The Chevalier is mine. [He flashes a smug little smile.]
    moondregs: (who likes the things you do)

    [personal profile] moondregs 2024-08-25 03:01 pm (UTC)(link)
    … I’m just Junpei.

    [ It’s not unusual for nobility from other worlds to end up here, and modern city boy is never quite sure how to match their pomp and flowery language. ]

    That sounds French.

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    thepigisdead: (pic#16840005)

    summertide

    [personal profile] thepigisdead 2024-08-01 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ Someone is pressing a cherry to his lips. He looks past it, meeting the gaze of a man who drips confidence, one who is accustomed to being the object of desire in any room. Astarion lightly takes the cherry between his teeth and bites just hard enough to pierce the skin. That's it, though: just a bite, not even in half. As juice trickles from the cherry's wound, Astarion lets it go and sits up straighter. He sweeps his thumb along his bottom lip to wipe away the juice there (which he promptly sucks from his skin). He suspects the fruit is drugged like so much of the food here. ]

    Festival? Certainly not. It's also not the first attempt at seduction I've faced tonight. I'll give you high marks for the cherry, but the delivery could use some work. [ The boldness of it at least gets Astarion's fully attention and his curiosity, which is at least better for his would-be suitor than earning his disdain or indifference. ]

    But you're new. I wouldn't forget that face.
    Edited 2024-08-01 19:22 (UTC)
    decorative: (pic#16209505)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-02 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
    [The critique infuriates the Chevalier, but he hides it well, smiling sweetly and tilting his head so that his profile can be admired. In that moment, he has to make a split decision about Astarion's preferences in the bedroom. Astarion doesn't exactly look like an uptight, stressed, strong man who longs to relinquish power. The Chevalier doesn't care.]]

    Oh, this face? It looks better from below. Or, if you turn around and look back at me, I have heard. [Project Top the Smug Hot Man is a go.]
    thepigisdead: (pic#16829609)

    [personal profile] thepigisdead 2024-08-04 06:50 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ Gods only know what Astarion is these days; he certainly doesn't. His own smile lingers, easy and unaffected as the man with the cherry changes directions. ]

    I can imagine [ His smile grows into something brighter, perhaps flattered, and maybe just a bit more coy. ] And I suppose that's an invitation to find out.

    [ Astarion realizes he's not entirely opposed, but he doesn't want to make it easy, either. This man wants to conquer someone and Astarion knows he could give him that. ]

    Do I get a name to go with that celestial face and tempting offer?
    decorative: (pic#16209505)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-05 02:22 am (UTC)(link)
    [The flattery helps to soothe the Chevalier's wounded ego and he moves in closer, holding the cherry up to Astarion's lips a second time so that he can finish taking the bite.]

    They call me the Chevalier. It is a title of sorts. It means I hold the esteem of the royal family. [He holds a lot more than esteem for some of them...]

    And what might your name be?
    thepigisdead: (pic#16842307)

    [personal profile] thepigisdead 2024-08-05 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
    The Chevalier? Does that mean you do not share the title or simply that you are exceptional among your peers?

    [ That's curious; he's heard of similar titles, he thinks he might have even heard chevalier before, but hells if he can place it in his muddled memory. ]

    My name is Astarion.

    [ Faerun may have different languages, but anyone who knows a shred of Greek might be able to translate: little star. ]
    decorative: (Sultry nibble)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-05 11:50 pm (UTC)(link)
    Both. I am so exceptional that no one dares use the same name.

    [At least not in court at least, where it matters. The Chevalier lets out a little, thoughtful hum and presses the cherry closer.]

    Who named you, my little light? ...Eat.
    thepigisdead: (pic#16842304)

    [personal profile] thepigisdead 2024-08-12 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
    I'd rather you put something else into my mouth, thank you, [ he says with the same light tone. It's been a while since anyone tried to feed him (though not terrible long given where they are) and Astarion is running out of excuses to avoid it.

    At least eating a single cherry won't be too much trouble if the Chevalier really insists. ]


    And I'm sure it was my parents. Should I have you call me magistrate if we're to be using titles?

    [ Not that he's been one in... decades. ]
    Edited 2024-08-12 00:53 (UTC)
    decorative: (pic#16209501)

    cw: mention of death

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-12 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
    [The Chevalier's nose wrinkles slightly at the mention of parents, but he is not easily deterred.]

    That depends. Do you intend to imprison me? [He lets out a quick little sigh and presses the cherry against Astarion's lips again, brushing aside any traumatic memories of rotting in a jail cell, awaiting execution. All he needs is to relax and enjoy some distractions. This Astarion fellow can help with that, especially if he wants to put his mouth to good use.]
    thepigisdead: (pic#17002670)

    [personal profile] thepigisdead 2024-08-12 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
    [ A third refusal starts to look suspicious, he supposes, so Astarion takes the cherry offered to him and makes sure to brush his lips against the Chevalier's fingers. The cherry is tart-sweet and almost certainly drugged, but he'll deal with that as it comes. ]

    I could keep you tied up all night, darling. But something tells me you're more of a free spirit.
    decorative: (Sultry nibble)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-23 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
    [The Chevalier watches as Astarion finally takes the cherry, visibly pleased that the plan is working, even if the Chevalier has a fairly decent idea that Astarion is on it himself. That won't stop the Chevalier from making a fun night out of it.]

    You are right. I go where the wind takes me. I cannot be tamed. But can you be?
    morozova: lulamae @ ij. (pic#15401527)

    ↳ summertide;

    [personal profile] morozova 2024-08-12 05:16 pm (UTC)(link)
    Festival? ( dark eyes flicker to the proffered cherry, narrowing slightly as his lips tighten in momentary hesitation, before he takes it, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. )

    No, it's — ( saints. just how many festivals has he actually attended since coming here? far too many to count. ) — they're quite common here. Although — ( a sly curl of his mouth as his head tilts, playfully assessing the other man. he offers the cherry in a mock salute, then takes a bite. chews. ) — this one does seem particularly enjoyable.

    ( must be the weather, clearly. )
    decorative: (pic#16209501)

    [personal profile] decorative 2024-08-24 01:54 pm (UTC)(link)
    [The Chevalier had hoped Aleksander would eat the cherry immediately, almost literally eating out his palm. So as soon as the cherry is held and not immediately, obediently eaten, the Chevalier pulls back slightly in punishment, not hiding his dismissive eye roll as he plucks two more cherries from the table to eat them both himself. See, Aleksander? It's not that hard.

    The salute is charming though, the Chevalier will give him that, and so he lets out little huff as he scoots in close again, painting his smile back on.]


    And what if I was not speaking of festivals? What if I was speaking of other, more wicked matters?
    morozova: @shithouse (pic#16671736)

    [personal profile] morozova 2024-08-31 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
    ( the chevalier isn’t the first to think he could tame aleksander. plenty have tried; few have succeeded —a nd those who did only managed it because it aligned with aleksander’s own goals, not because of any genuine skill or care. he was a practical man, above all.

    that said, aleksander lets out a soft chuckle at the chevalier’s question, tilting his head slightly to the side. )


    Why? Are you thinking of tutoring me in the finer points of the art?