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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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!)
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
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?
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?
no subject
They're doing what they can.
"You'd think I'd learn not to expect things to go to plan."
no subject
"I wouldn't mind an easy solution to..." And he gestures vaguely with his wineglass, to all of this. "But we've faced dragons and won. Why not do battle with an entire plane of existence?"
Or a goddess of nebulous value to them - but the real enemy seems to be the nothingness pressing in on all sides. Percy's quiet for a moment or two, thinking, before he asks, "What's the best thing that's happened to you here?"
no subject
His question eclipses the thought, though.
That's a complicated question, isn't it.
"Apparently I'm getting extra time with my brother," she says at last. It's a safe answer, but also a true one. "If it means keeping him with me, there's a part of me that doesn't mind staying a while."
no subject
There's nothing in the world, this one or any other, that he could offer equal to her brother's life. By comparison, his love is a mere consolation prize. He's not so melancholy as to assume that it's worthless - but he'd like to think he can be at least somewhat objective about this. She's from a time when she can't trust that he'll offer more than mere friendship, and her brother has been at her side since before their birth. They won't balance out for her.
"...A while, then." All he can offer is a sympathetic frown, one filled with a feeling he's acquired honestly. It's the sympathy of a man who'd be similarly torn if any of his siblings staggered out of the woods. "We might as well enjoy what we can."
no subject
Then she shrugs.
"There have been other things here that are still pleasant, but less dire. I've learned about holidays from other worlds—there was a Thanksgiving party. I'm still not entirely sure about everything it celebrates, but I got some of the gist of it. People get together with food and friends—and not an orgy to be seen. Harlan invited people to his home for it last year."
She takes a deep breath, thinking this is better ground.
"I think you'd like him."
no subject
But that's neither here nor there right now. Vex moves on, and Percy's not about to drag her back to the fact of Vax's imminent death. Instead, he listens as she describes a holiday he's never heard of before now, one of togetherness around a dining table. It sounds like a harvest festival, and a pleasant one compared to the typical holidays of Rubilykskoye. He lets himself drift along on her words, until she raises the specter of a man.
"Oh?" He pauses with his glass halfway to his lips. The first thing he thinks, unfairly, is how well do you know him, just what does he know about you? "I don't think I've met him."
no subject
No feelings.
No conflict.
Nothing difficult to explain.
"I should introduce you to a lot of people. I've made some—well, at least some of them deserve to be called friends." She takes a long sip, gathering her courage for the next part. She'll have to address this eventually, and it won't get less scary if she waits. "One or two more than friends."
no subject
There's no reason for him to be jealous. He can't expect her to have been faithful to him when they haven't so much as kissed - and even if they had, he still couldn't ask fidelity of this sort with her life hanging in the balance. But there's something jealous burrowed in his chest all the same, something shriveled and sour at the thought of sharing her with anyone. A bitter little voice echoing from somewhere behind his tired lungs, up into his skull: Do you think they had to die before she acknowledged her feelings?
It doesn't matter, he reminds himself, and undoubtedly will remind himself over and over again for the remainder of his time here. She's experienced things he hasn't, lived through horrors he's only begin to understand - and if she can't blame his absence, how can he blame her for finding comfort in the people who were here?
It's a tug-of-war that's going to go on inside him for a long time. For now, it only takes as long as he needs to reach again for the bottle and a splash a bit more into each of their glasses. A silent suggestion, it might be easier this way. Once he's looking at her again, he forces himself to be the friend she deserves in this situation. "Is he, erm, one of them?"
no subject
"No. The relationships... have you met Jordana?"
no subject
But he'll be listening for her name now. Harlan's as well, if only to see just what qualifies as I wouldn't kick him out of bed for her here. "She's one of your lovers?"
It's the wrong turn of phrase as soon as he says it, too evocative by half, but he's not sure there's a better term available. One of the people you care for enough to mention especially - and thank you for telling me, truly, because the last thing I want is to be blindsided by the news in front of them.
no subject
Vex has no way to account for how awkward this is. She's avoided acknowledging her relationships, such as they are, broadly for months, only informing her brother when she had to. It's been growing more open, but...
Well.
This isn't her normal style.
She tells herself it's just that, and not the fact her heart pangs that Percy isn't on the list that makes this strange for her.
"I think you'll like her too, though she's generally not a fan of... men. In general."
no subject
Likely he'll regret the question, but it sounds absurd from his perspective, like deciding one dislikes every dwarf in existence arbitrarily.
(And fortunately, it provides a distraction from the fact of Vex's relationship. Talking about the mysterious Jordana herself is easier than the details of her intimacy with Vex.)
no subject
That is to say, because she views them as the source of her trauma. Not without cause.
"She is a very fair person and measured. I don't expect she'll be hostile without provocation... but, well, you may need to establish trust."
no subject
He does intend to, after all, to meet her. The circumstances might feel halfway-unlivable when he's lying in bed alone - or worse, dozing off in the aleroom while he waits for his roommate to finish whatever debauchery he's interested in that night - but in the mornings he can see the mundane fact of it all. To know Vex'ahlia here will be to know the people she's sleeping with, and he can't bear the idea of losing touch with her.
"I don't plan to be hostile without provocation, either." He'll be as meek as a lamb, if he has to be. (If he's capable of it.) "I meant what I said earlier - I'd like to know her, if I can."
no subject
There's a light in her eyes, like a thread of gold through the brown hazel, because she wants him and Jordana to meet. She'd like them to get along. She hopes...
Well, would it be too much to hope that he approves?
"She's a good person to know. She's caring, and protective, and she has a strong sense of justice."
no subject
They're friends, after all. This is still friendship, letting her come in a little closer while they let a bottle of wine ease an awkward conversation. If he wishes it were more than that, that's his own problem to manage.
"I can see why she caught your eye." Saying she sounds like Vex's type is going a bit far right now, not least because it feels overly self-complimentary, but at least he can acknowledge this woman's finer qualities. (This is what matters, really: Vex found someone same and loving in a place that's anything but. If he can only keep that in mind -) "And the, er. The other one?"
Might as well rip the entire bandage off in one go. He doesn't want to spend his time wondering.
no subject
And the fact they'd fallen in that order hasn't been uncomplicated.
That complication comes through in the hesitation in Vex's voice. That, and the fact she's less sure Percy would like him. "He is... well, I'm fairly sure he's some kind of archfey at this point, and used to be a god in his world?" Which makes his interest strange, but here they are. "He has been remarkably devoted to making me smile."
And that's really the core of the matter, isn't it? The fact he looks at her, and sees someone worth putting out sometimes a fairly ridiculous amount of effort for, whether it's to make her smile, or make her comfortable, or give her what he thinks she wants.
She tries to pretend she's not tense then, offering a rather impish smile. "Also, I think my father would absolutely hate him."
Bonus?
no subject
...And that's the question, isn't it? From his wrath - unlikely, not least because he has no business complaining that she's moved on after close to a year here. From questions she doesn't want to answer or feelings she's not ready to describe - far more possible.
His assumption is that Sweeney is the more serious of these affairs, that she has more to lose with him and thus less desire to share details. There could be love there, for all that she's said that Rubilykekoye doesn't offer much opportunity for it. There could be promises more serious than We'll acknowledge each other publicly. She has a friend here who's married -
Belatedly, he realizes there's a new tension running through him as well. Taking a breath doesn't really clear it, but he can make his jaw move and form the sorts of polite words you're supposed to say in these situations.
"I'm...happy for you." And doesn't he just sound it. Clearing his throat, he tries again. "He sounds like quite the gentleman. Anyone who tries to make you smile...they deserve your affection, I'm sure."
no subject
And maybe that reflects poorly on her, that she's attracted to people because of what they do for her. It's not exactly Vex's only unflattering quality. It is more than that, though. It's his mind, and his willingness to talk with her for hours, his honesty—even his fucking bullheadedness.
And at some point, she'll realize she's not even sure which of them she's thinking of. Percy and Sweeney couldn't be more different in any number of respects...
But Vex does have to feel that she has a certain type.
She clears her throat, leaning into Percy briefly, affectionately.
Taking his blessing, even if it doesn't wholly feel like one.
"I'd be happy to introduce you to him too. Not all at once, of course..." That would be a recipe for disaster.
no subject
(He wouldn't be, not with everything else they're dealing with, but at least he wouldn't be quite so lovelorn.)
"When the time is right." There's an entire list of people for him to meet now, Vax's lover and both of hers and all the friends the two of them have picked up along the way. The less known faces as well, those villagers in charge of the black powder and the damnable duchess with her spider's limbs. So much to do, and also nothing to do, and a lot of heartache that he can mete out to himself in small bursts. He'll let himself feel it when he's alone; he'll make himself happy for her while they're together. "When you think the time is right. I'm the interloper - it's not up to me."
That, at least, has some humor to it. Her fly-by-night acquaintance, arriving fashionably late.
no subject
"You are my friend, and a member of Vox Machina. You will always have a place with me."
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Very badly, he reminds himself. Coming onto her directly after she's told him about the places she's put her heart is a recipe for disaster.
"Well -" he starts, his smile painfully earnest - "I'm still going to leave it up to you. Give me a bit of warning, and I'll meet whoever you want me to know."
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She doesn't dare lean into him more, but she does savor his touch as long she can before the quiet becomes too tense, too awkward.
Then, she does draw away. "I'll get another bottle. I don't think we're done drinking yet."
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It's for the best. He simply has to keep reminding himself.
"I think you're right." Alcohol will smooth over the rough edges of this conversation, and at some point, it'll all feel natural. Or perhaps it'll still be awkward, but Vex might fall asleep with her head on his shoulder, and he can cling to the weight of her cheek pressing into his sleeve. "You know, I haven't gotten really, properly drunk in months. Now's as good a time as any."
It's more joke than anything, though he wouldn't be opposed to the possibility of seeing just how much wine they can put away together. Even with his reduced capacity, he's betting they could reach a third bottle if they tried.
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Standing, she shuffles back to the kitchen for another bottle.
As she makes her way, she keeps a light patter up.
"Perhaps we should make this something of a habit. Build your tolerance back up—once a week, you drop in for a bottle or two. Vax could join us, if he wants. We can all catch up on gossip."
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