rubimemes | SPRING TEST DRIVE MEME

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SPRING 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: murder, bondage, sensory deprivation, aphro, coercion, waxplay, whips, free use, and orgiastic behavior.

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.

FAQ ✧ SETTING ✧ CALENDAR ✧ RESERVES ✧ APPLICATIONS

SPRING TEST DRIVE MEME

TDMs in Rubi are posted every quarter at the beginning of the season. As such, this TDM is open until the next TDM is posted in July.

Feel free to post on this TDM until the Summer TDM goes up. Please check the Calendar (linked above) for more information on precise dates.

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 dewy mosses and ferns, upon cold soil and feeling 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 to cast a suspicious eye upon this new creature appeared in the woods. With your feet under you, you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, is running actively again as the weather warms into full spring bloom, a hint of humidity in the air.

As you explore, you may encounter caches of clothing left in painted crates or placed in hollow tree trunks. They contain loose shirts and trousers, perhaps even a moth-eaten coat, along with a note that includes a bare-bones explanation for your arrival and a sketched map toward town. You may also 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 a couple thousand has cobbled streets and signs lit by gas lamps. 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. However, there's a stressed, ramshackle air about the town – multiple buildings in varying stages of disarray or construction, charred edges to wooden walls, as if some local disaster had taken place a few months back, and the townsfolk are still picking up in the aftermath.

When you enter, the streets are full of busy people bustling about, 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.

SETTING: CRIME

Fortunately, the most of the townspeople 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! Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, some scorch marks still linger from a fire about a year back, and the place seems somewhat in disrepair

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner: a thin stew 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. The town has recently been brought back from the brink of a terrible calamity, newcomers are told, and everyone is doing their part now to restore it to its former glory.

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!

SPRINGTIDE FESTIVAL

The flowers are blooming, the birds are chirping, and what better way to ring in spring than with sweet blood sacrifice in its honor?

All around town, somewhat macabre decorations have been arranged... with a floral, spring-like twist. Animal skulls adorned with painted red-and-pink flowers hang from doorfronts, streaming flowing trails of woven ribbons and ivy. Garlands of dyed eggs are strung from lamp post to lamp post. Stalls line the streets, offering intricately worked leather masks for festival goers along with decorative bits of neckwear strangely reminiscent of a hangman's noose. In addition to satisfying the needs of the curse marks that afflict the townspeople, the overarching theme of the festival seems to be a celebration of communal endurance and defiance of death.

FAQ: CURSE MARKS

Festival Entertainment includes, but isn't limited to:

A wrestling ring in which naked, oiled up combatants are also offered a choice of weapon from a wooden mallet to brass knuckles to a tiny knife barely the length of a pinky. Nothing that's likely to kill anyone outright, of course, just enough to spice up the competition a bit.
Various competitions of endurance upon the stage, from lying perfectly still as hot wax is dripped over one's naked body to a whipping game where the first to yelp loses, and another where prone volunteers have clamps affixed to nipples and genitals, with increasingly heavy weights attached. Losers are hung upside down for communal use, thighs spread and notched for every person who partakes... but all in good fun and the spirit of shared pleasure.
A version of blind man's bluff where several kneeling participants are blindfolded and their wrists and ankles hobbled with a knotted length of rope. The first to crawl up to one of the circle of onlookers and bring them to orgasm is deemed the victor and may leave the ring, while the losers may be expected to play another round… and another… until they've succeeded in claiming their own victory.
A crude public shower and sauna have been set up to rinse off and relax after festival fun. Be careful to stay hydrated, because the temperature inside the sauna is steaming hot. Cups of cold tea are served to all in the sauna, leaving a refreshing tingle in your extremities... and an urge to put your mouth to use upon another person's body.

Almost all of the food and drink present are dosed with the Rubean's usual blend of stimulating aphrodisiac herbs, so common in their cooking as to be totally unremarkable – and not something they would warn anyone about before partaking. And of course, there is the ever-present orgy in the background, taking on a bestial, animalistic edge as festival-goers revel in pain and pleasure alike.

For every shared carnal experience during the Springtide Festival, partners will leave matching marks upon each other – a shared bloody 'X' carved on the left shoulder, a bruised imprint of teeth on the right buttock. These wounds are proudly displayed for all to see, with those who've accumulated many marks being treated like rockstars, adulation and cheers following in their wake, toasts raised in their presence, and people eager to approach and further add to their collection.

And of course, those who bear few-to-no marks are all the more likely to be propositioned by fellow Rubeans, and looked askance if they refuse. Everyone is expected to share in the springtime spirit, after all.

As a general rule, the Rubeans attitude toward the strangers among them, also known as Void-touched, is one of welcome, generosity, and social pressure bearing from gentle encouragement to actively overbearing, with an emphasis on conformity. Now that you're here, of course you'll want to start contributing and acting like a proper member of the community! But beware, for not all of the villagers are open and welcoming to the new Void-touched. Some, known as the Zlatniki, resent the presence of newcomers who don't respect their ways, don't offer proper worship to their Goddess, who flaunt their outsider status and lead members of their community astray. These villagers may resort to trickery, coercion, or even violence to ensure compliance.

WRITER'S BLOCK?

Join a competition on purpose to prove your endurance, or alternately find yourself 'helpfully' shoved into line to go up on stage. Find yourself dodging grabby villagers or swoop in to save someone else from being propositioned. Share awkward eye contact or a cup of tea in the sauna.

VESENYA LOVTI, THE SPRING HUNT

At some point, in the bath, while you undress, or even during the throes of passion, you might find the name of a stranger written somewhere upon your skin.

At some point, you might catch a glimpse of an act of wanton, inexplicable murder. A laundress toppling over with an arrow jutting out of her eye as her fellow washerwomen yelp and hurry to make sure she doesn't fall into the well. A farmer enjoying a pint in the tavern, only to fall out of his chair, coughing up bloodied bits of metal shrapnel while the barkeep looks on with a smile. In the aftermath, a shadowy figure skitters down the rooftops and rips a silver locket from around the laundress' neck, and the barkeep casually cuts the farmer's ear from his head. While most onlookers seem only mildly put out by the inconvenience, some even cheer or egg on the murderer.

At some point, you might hear someone asking around. Does anyone know who this is? With your name upon their lips.

If you ask around, you'll learn of Vesenya Lovti, the Spring Hunt and an annual cultural tradition among the Rubeans. For those not in the know, during Vesenya Lovti, a name of a fellow community member will appear somewhere on each Rubean and Void-touched's body. The Duchess has decreed that the goal over the month's standard festival revelry is to kill that person before getting killed yourself, and a trophy must be taken by the killer from their intended victim and cast into the festival bier in sacrifice. Worry not, for their benevolent Goddess will resurrect all who are killed just in time to catch the festival's closing ceremonies. And of course you'll be participating, right? Wouldn't want to disrespect your generous hosts' local customs, after all...

WRITER'S BLOCK?

Murder and be murdered. :') Or do your best to avoid both. Save a stranger from a knife attack, or whisper a warning into someone's ear about the poison lacing their meal. Ask around to find out about your target (feel free to make up NPCs), while trying to stay discreet. But be careful. Interfering too much in someone else's hunt or being too outspoken about 'barbaric practices' might earn you a trip to the stocks, at least until you've learned to be a little more open-minded about traditions that bring the whole community together.

THE FATHOMLESS DARK

At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day – eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.

In the void, the air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.

In addition to the spiders, you may come across the sharp-toothed furred yetis that emerged during the snowstorm, still looking for a meal. Each one hunts alone, a fifteen-foot-tall shambling creature that drips black ooze and super-chills the air around it until your skin feels tight and icy. If it gets the drop on you, you're likely to be its dinner. It has emerged from a long summer hibernation to enjoy the colder weather, and it's starving.

FAQ: DEATH RULES

Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body – what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you – people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.

writer's block?

If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!

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.

FAQ: MONSTER CURSES & TIMELINES

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

Abram, the potter, narrowly survives a poisoning attempt during the spring hunt, but the stress of it has sent him over the edge. The salamander shape of his inner beast – duchozweirz, the natives call it – rampages through the stalls of the festival, leaving a trail of char and ruin in its wake and spitting molten rock at those who might attempt to quell him.

(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?

RULES: CONTENT WARNINGS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You might be surprised," Vex says, tucking her chin. Her smile doesn't waver. "Khoriya is one of the few people here who isn't human, though his world isn't exactly like ours. He's a sort of... well, he's a wolf man. They call themselves worgs but not quite what she'd consider as much."

On the other hand, elves in his world aren't exactly like elves in their own. Still, the concept is far from unprecedented. Really he wouldn't have attracted that much attention if he'd shown up in a tavern in Emon.

"He is, in fact, quite furry."

"Oh." His first thought is so much the better. The sheer number of humans here has yet to stop feeling strange and a bit unpleasant to Percy; there's something about the monotony there that's a little unsettling, though he hasn't been able to quite put his finger on why. "I'm surprised I haven't noticed him around, then."

Near misses, nothing that rises advice the matter of filling the silence with chatter. He realizes he's run out of things to say about Vax's new paramour; everything else he could ask feels like prying, or like he'd be better off directing the question to Vax himself. Not that he's above a bit of prying, of course, but in the moment, when his presence here is that of a guest, he thinks he'd better not.

It feels masochistic to press the subject further but cowardly to avoid it - and if he does avoid it, he's going to be eaten up with wondering. Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, Percy forces his own hand. "And have, er, have you found someone like that?"

God, does he hope not. But if she has, he should know sooner rather than later. It might save him the indignity of confessing feelings she no longer shares. It'll definitely save him the misery of staying up all night, trying to game out every possibility.

Vex's smile falters at the question and her ears visibly seem to droop in response. She's dreaded this. She has no reason to dread it. If some part of her feels unfaithful to him, then that part of her is—misguided.

Percy has already made that clear.

She's not his, and there's no commitment for her to betray.

She quashes the guilt before it can rise all the way to her face, doing her best to recall her earlier humor.

"Darling, have I ever struck you as the sort to become besotted?" Her tone makes it clear she's above that kind of vulnerability.

Still, he deserves to know.

She doesn't want it to be a surprise. Or more of a surprise.

"I do have two relationships," she admits then, picking a more or less neutral word. "And I'd say they're both very satisfying, but we're not exchanging vows. It's... this may not be difficult place for romance, but it is a difficult place for monogamy."

He's an imbecile, and this is why: He asked a question without considering, really considering, whether he could he take every possible answer. Some part of him had thought that six months couldn't be long enough to find herself all that entwined with anyone. Some part of him had hoped that she'd gone on some kind of murderous rampage instead of entertaining the possibility of sex. All of him was an idiot, and now it feels like Grog's stomping his chest flat.

"Oh," he says again, and that's all he can manage for a moment or two. There's no room to reason his way out of the moment, or to school his face away from surprise and surprise. He's too busy swallowing down betrayal and a vague sense of doom on the horizon. It's a long, strange moment of anguish, his limbs frozen in place - or it feels that way to him, anyway. It might have only been a second or two. He's not actually sure.

But it ends - everything ends eventually - and his thoughts begin to fire again. Rapidly, determinedly: You weren't here. You had no claim on her anyway. Don't be an arsehole about this, if you love her you won't be an arsehole.

"Well. Yes, I suppose that makes sense." And that's another thing, he can't demand fidelity of a woman who's never kissed him, on a plane that seems to revolve around fucking as many different people as possible. He puts on the brightest tone he can, straightening up from where he's been half-seated. "I suppose congratulations are in order, especially now that you've got a bit more, er, space to yourself. It really is a very fine home."

"Percy, dear..."

There's no missing his reaction, though Vex has no idea how to interpret it. Percy has already turned her down once, so it can't be jealousy. And it can't be that surprising.

Is it surprising?

Does she hope it will be surprising?

"I do hope you'll meet them at some point," she adds then, perhaps intentionally poking to see if he's as sore as he seems. And perhaps, in some strange way, honest. Perhaps it's selfish, but Vex would like to be able to have the people she cares about together in one place.

Not even for sexy horny reasons. Just... it would be nice if they could celebrate midsummer together, or Winter's Crest if they're all stuck here for another winter.

"They're really quite fascinating people."

His first instinct is to try to move past the entire subject with the chipperest attitude he can summon. Play it off certainly and falsely, and with luck, they'll never have to speak of it again.

But this is Vex. Vex, with whom he's prided himself on honesty since they first met. She looks to him for the truth - his truth - and he owes it to her to provide that.

He comes over, crossing the empty room until he's standing before her, and reaches for her shoulder.

"I'm sure they are." His expression softens, and surely this melancholy can just be shut up tight within him and stewed over later. (She called then relationships, she acknowledged them, and after only six months' acquaintance -) He's her friend, and he's happy she's found people she can trust. Surely he can be happy for her, if he makes the effort. "If you like them, they're worth knowing."

Why does the bottom seem to drop out of Vex's stomach when he says that, leaving her with a pit inside when he says that.

Vex tries to smile, offering what optimism she can.

She can only imagine how this must seem. She's been here for months now, and Percy is likely facing the possibility that will be in his future as well.

"And you know," she says with all the comradery she can muster. "If you should happen to find a companion, they would be welcome as well."

There. That look from her - the attempt at a smile, coupled with the warmth of her hand, makes him think they might be standing on even terrain. The ground's not solid by any means, but at least they're both a little unsteady, both in the same way

Perhaps they'll find a way to move forward, or perhaps he'll get over her. The one thing he's not expecting - and the way his brow furrows likely gives it away - is to wind up with someone else holding a piece of his heart.

"I was actually thinking of trying violence," he says, stretching out the I and hoping it's light-hearted enough that it sounds like a joke. "You don't happen to know if anyone around here needs killing, do you? I'm finding it...difficult...to wrap my head around the alternative."

People fall into bed together every day, but before Vex...it had been years, hadn't it? He'd had his vengeance to focus on, but he'd also found the notion of a dalliance with a stranger more trouble than it was worth. Hard to imagine that might change here.

Suddenly Vex's brows draw down and her chin comes up, gracing him with a witheringly skeptical expression, masking deep concerns in her eyes.

"Darling, you can't be serious. You're in no condition to start picking fights." Not to put too fine of a point on it, but he's clearly in much worse shape than she'd left him in.

And she'd left him having just fought a black dragon.

"There's no need for that."

She's right, much as it rankles - fights might be an option someday, but they'll have to wait until after he's able to walk unassisted.

"I can always take my chances with whatever beast I become - but I'm told it's likely to be a scaly piece of work." He found the mark on his second day here, high on an inner thigh: Skala, apparently evidence of cold pragmatism and a tendency towards the otherworldly.

This, though, is a genuine joke, not a but maybe. Whatever destruction Percy might cause in a monstrous form, it's going to be unjustifiable. There really isn't an option ahead of him besides finding someone reasonably attractive and going for a roll in the hay.

"I know you're joking," Vex starts, because she's not unperceptive, and because she knows Percy. "Still, it bears saying that letting your monster slip is a good way to end up dead. And dead means going to the duchess."

Unsaid: Vex has no desire to see Percy dead, even if he will come back.

"Moreover," because he'll say it even if she won't, "I've been told in no uncertain terms that I'm not allowed to die again. Possibly ever."

And even if this isn't yet the woman who informed him as much, he's still willing to try to live up to her demands. It's a pity that he's left with no option but to resort to sex to survive here, and that still feels fraught in ways he can't explain to her.

"That may not be possible, in the long run, but I've managed it this far." Though luck, as much as anything. Though Vex doe tend to have a more highly developed sense of self-preservation than some people.

People who will remain nameless, because who she's thinking of should be obvious to anyone who's been paying attention.

"Please do try your best at least, darling."

"Good. I'd rather not see you dead again, either." A sentiment that's entirely defensible to express, even if there's a certain intensity to his gaze. "Let's call it a pact - we'll hold each other to it."

And perhaps he'll be able to quell the instinct to throw himself bodily at the problem of their confinement. Giving her hand a squeeze, he makes himself let go.

"And in the meantime, I'll have to start establishing myself in town. The sooner I can move away from the boarding house, the better." More's the pity that there's no servants' quarters here; little though he likes the idea of bearing witness to Vex's conquests, he'd gladly sleep in a stable stall if it meant he had some privacy.

Vex huffs, squeezing his hand briefly before drawing back.

"I would shake on that," she says, trying to be light. To make this as easy as possible for both of them, which all things considered still isn't very easy but it is something. They can only do what's in their power.

And there's nothing Vex can do to force Percy to be comfortable with the idea of sleeping with her. Maybe in time that's something they can readdress, but she won't force it.

(She won't risk that sting a second time.)

"Let me know if you want me to keep an eye out for another place. I'm happy to haggle down the seller, for a friend."

A friend, he repeats to himself, as though hearing it inside his head will make him feel it the way he needs to. Vex'ahlia, the dearest friend he has, looking at him with a smile that makes him want to lean down and kiss her - a friend, entirely a friend.

"Please." Knowing what he does, he's not sure he can offer to build her a bed in trade - it's hard to think of making one while knowing who else frequents it - but no doubt he can come up with something else suitable to repay her. There's no need, but that doesn't mean Percy doesn't want to; even under these awkward circumstances, his instinct is to give her everything. "I'll take a shack with gapped floorboards and cracks in the walls if there's room for a workshop."

"I can work with that," Vex says, warming to the idea. Among other things, it's a place to put her—her energy with regards to Percy. Her feelings. "In fact, I think I can out do it. How do you feel about being outside of town?"

"It doesn't make much difference to me." After all, it seems unlikely that she'll allow for the possibility of his being too far out; she's (quite reasonably) concerned about his good health, and the monsters in the forest won't help much. If he was on this side of the village, near to her gatehouse, that'd be nice, but beggars can't be choosers. "Do you have somewhere in mind?"

"It may be too early to say," Vex says, though she rubs her chin in a way that may suggest she has a thought or two. "But a shed might not be a terrible thing to look out for. A little work space, maybe room for a small forge of your own...

"And not burn your house down in the process."

"I'm not planning to burn anything down." Though he does like the idea of sitting down, and to that end, starts moving back towards the stairs. (Vax's quarters deserve some privacy. Perhaps he'll see them someday.) "If I do, it'll be on purpose."

A shed, though, would be enough for him, at least for a while. If he could find a cot, or even just a bedroll, he could sleep there as well.

"Of course, darling," she says then, her voice mock skeptical.

Then Vex sighs. The direction he's heading makes it clear that they're done here. At least for now.

"Shall we go down and open a bottle of wine? I'd invite you for dinner, but... well, we have wine."

"I should have brought something," he says warmly. "I've forgotten my manners."

Percy's already assumed that there's nothing more that can happen up here. Standing in Vex's room is simultaneously pleasant and awkward, a potent reminder of past trysts as well as all the affairs she's involved in here. The parlor seems more like neutral ground, and there's the possibility that they might be able to sit together on the couch.

"I'm surprised everyone here isn't blind drunk constantly," he adds. "It seems like something miserable is happening to someone, every time I turn around."

Vex hums, but she's willing to confess her particular poor coping mechanisms.

At least some of them. It's not as though Percy isn't already aware.

"I admit I've spent more time here drunk than I probably should have," she tells him, her humor a little tired and a little bitter. "It's not the best way to face the horrors, but also sometimes it's the easiest way."

A little huff and she tries to shrug off the beginnings of a bad mood.

"But the horrors aren't as entirely unending as it seems. There are breaks sometimes. An afternoon or a weekend off."

"And we can always drink together, while the horrors are happening." He hasn't been nearly so beaten down by this place - he hasn't had the time - but there's a touch of morbid humor to his answer.

It's not the worst thing in the world, to think of huddling someplace with Vex and a bottle of whiskey, waiting for some unexpected nightmare to pass. Not much different from home, in some ways.

He longs to reach for her hand as he makes his way down the stairs with the diligence of a toddler learning to walk. He balances just fine on his own, provided he takes care, but keeping some connection when he can't see her still feels remarkable. Instead, he grips the railing. "When they yield...if you have the time, I could use an archery lesson or two. I can't think of a quicker way to start building up muscle."

Vex follows him down the stairs, moving slowly. She doesn't want to rush him, and doesn't have a problem letting him take his time.

Better that than fall down stairs.

When he suggests archery, Vex's gaze snaps up from Percy's feet to his face. Then a brow arches and she leans closer. "Archery, darling?" she asks, almost smugly. "You've finally seen the benefits of shooting something that doesn't explode regularly, hm?"

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