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draino2024-11-09 08:00 am
saltburnmods) wrote in draino2024-11-09 08:00 am
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πππππ, πππππ, πππππ β£ NOV TDM
NOVEMBER 2024 TDM: RENAISSANCE
Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.
Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.
WELCOME TO SALTBURNT
It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isnβt, stay in bed and wallow β eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe itβs normal for you. Maybe it isnβt.
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
β momofuku's "cereal milk" β
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
THE SWEETS
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
2 GIRLS 1 CUP
CONTENT WARNINGS: nudity, potential for nsfw.
Over the past few days, a bit of construction has taken place on the grounds of the Saltburnt estate, and while it's difficult to piece together what exactly is being built, it's clear to see: whatever it is, it's massive, taking up a huge percentage of the grounds with multiple included structures. On the outside it seems almost like a neighborhood is being sprung up βΒ new houses for people to live in, maybe? New shops, disconnected from the manor at large? All is revealed on opening day, when upon entry all are greeted with cheery hellos from jauntily clad persons shouting, "Huzzah!" and "Hail and well met!" For the more medieval and fantasy inclined among you, it might feel like stepping somewhere familiar and homey. To the rest, you know β you've just walked into a Ren Faire. Costumes are expected.
Not sure what to wear? Those born between SEPTEMBER to FEBRUARY are dubbed part of the Unseelie Court, which is associated with darkness and decay, generally dressed in deep, dark colors. Those born between MARCH to AUGUST are part of the Seelie Court, which is associated with stars and sky, in lighter, brighter colors.
On either side of the split path, you're assaulted by the scents, sights, and sounds of any ordinary Ren Faire. Vendors pawn off garlicky mushrooms and full turkey legs, or flower crowns and juggling sticks in exchange for a kiss, a secret, a lock of hair, or something of equal nonsensical value. Step inside a shop and see sellers offering crude jewelry and satchels of loose leaf tea, fudge sold by the ounce and porcelain ocarinas. Essentially, if it's kitschy and thematic, you can find it here, being sold to you by people in costume who refuse to break character.
Shopping not quite your style? Fear not! If you're lucky in your wanderings, your might spot the Unseelie Queen ALICENT HIGHTOWER or her counterpart and opposed Seelie Queen LAURALAE carried on palanquins towards the very back of the faire, where the real heart of the show takes place in a small stadium for entertainment purposes βΒ a tourney for distinguishing yourself as the best among your peers in the manor. Prior to the tourney, all characters are given a favor of some kind ( an embroidered handkerchief, ribbon, garland, or piece of jewelry ) to give to a person of their choosing, be they a competitor or not, to show their support. Strangely, this favor seems to link them through an empathetic, sensation-based bond, so they feel everything their chosen competitor experiences. Mutual favors result in a mutual bond.
The challenges are set: ARCHERY/KNIFE THROWING, SWORDFIGHTING/HAND-TO-HAND, and a BARD'S TOURNEY. In addition to the more ye olde flavor of competition, there are also challenges for COUPLE TENNIS, HORSE POLO, and CHESS. And, in true Saltburnt fashion, there is also a somewhat lewd display of voyeuristic NUDE WRESTLING, where the first person to have an orgasm loses. (You can sign up for these competitions HERE.) To every challenge there is dubbed a winner, who in the old Westerosi tradition gets to crown a chosen "maiden" with the title THE QUEEN OR KING OF LOVE AND BEAUTY and an extravagant wreath of flowers, their victory dedicated to the lucky lord or lady. These wreaths are both fashionable and functional β while wearing them, no one can resist following whatever queenly command your character gives. Additionally, winners will receive prizes courtesy of Saltburnt, all to be determined upon victory.
Whichever queen has the most winners at the end of the tourney is crowned HIGH QUEEN OF THE FAE. The Queen is paraded around and celebrated by all, and while tribute is not necessary, it certainly is appreciated!
Over the past few days, a bit of construction has taken place on the grounds of the Saltburnt estate, and while it's difficult to piece together what exactly is being built, it's clear to see: whatever it is, it's massive, taking up a huge percentage of the grounds with multiple included structures. On the outside it seems almost like a neighborhood is being sprung up βΒ new houses for people to live in, maybe? New shops, disconnected from the manor at large? All is revealed on opening day, when upon entry all are greeted with cheery hellos from jauntily clad persons shouting, "Huzzah!" and "Hail and well met!" For the more medieval and fantasy inclined among you, it might feel like stepping somewhere familiar and homey. To the rest, you know β you've just walked into a Ren Faire. Costumes are expected.
Not sure what to wear? Those born between SEPTEMBER to FEBRUARY are dubbed part of the Unseelie Court, which is associated with darkness and decay, generally dressed in deep, dark colors. Those born between MARCH to AUGUST are part of the Seelie Court, which is associated with stars and sky, in lighter, brighter colors.
On either side of the split path, you're assaulted by the scents, sights, and sounds of any ordinary Ren Faire. Vendors pawn off garlicky mushrooms and full turkey legs, or flower crowns and juggling sticks in exchange for a kiss, a secret, a lock of hair, or something of equal nonsensical value. Step inside a shop and see sellers offering crude jewelry and satchels of loose leaf tea, fudge sold by the ounce and porcelain ocarinas. Essentially, if it's kitschy and thematic, you can find it here, being sold to you by people in costume who refuse to break character.
Shopping not quite your style? Fear not! If you're lucky in your wanderings, your might spot the Unseelie Queen ALICENT HIGHTOWER or her counterpart and opposed Seelie Queen LAURALAE carried on palanquins towards the very back of the faire, where the real heart of the show takes place in a small stadium for entertainment purposes βΒ a tourney for distinguishing yourself as the best among your peers in the manor. Prior to the tourney, all characters are given a favor of some kind ( an embroidered handkerchief, ribbon, garland, or piece of jewelry ) to give to a person of their choosing, be they a competitor or not, to show their support. Strangely, this favor seems to link them through an empathetic, sensation-based bond, so they feel everything their chosen competitor experiences. Mutual favors result in a mutual bond.
The challenges are set: ARCHERY/KNIFE THROWING, SWORDFIGHTING/HAND-TO-HAND, and a BARD'S TOURNEY. In addition to the more ye olde flavor of competition, there are also challenges for COUPLE TENNIS, HORSE POLO, and CHESS. And, in true Saltburnt fashion, there is also a somewhat lewd display of voyeuristic NUDE WRESTLING, where the first person to have an orgasm loses. (You can sign up for these competitions HERE.) To every challenge there is dubbed a winner, who in the old Westerosi tradition gets to crown a chosen "maiden" with the title THE QUEEN OR KING OF LOVE AND BEAUTY and an extravagant wreath of flowers, their victory dedicated to the lucky lord or lady. These wreaths are both fashionable and functional β while wearing them, no one can resist following whatever queenly command your character gives. Additionally, winners will receive prizes courtesy of Saltburnt, all to be determined upon victory.
Whichever queen has the most winners at the end of the tourney is crowned HIGH QUEEN OF THE FAE. The Queen is paraded around and celebrated by all, and while tribute is not necessary, it certainly is appreciated!
RING AROUND THE ROSEY
CONTENT WARNINGS: potential for nsfw.
The Ren Faire fixture runs adjacent to the tree line of the forest, which one can enter through a booth manned by THE GREAT WIZARD ARCHIBALD, who warns you to be prepared to enter the Realm of the Fae beyond his backdrop curtain, before handing you a flower and a pair of antlers (or a head piece from your fauna choice) for your journey to the beyond. Upon entering, you are greeted by a forest that bears no resemblance to the woods you've grown to expect in your time at the manor, everything more exaggeratedly lush than it had been even a day or so prior. Plump fruits with slightly glimmering skins grow fat on the vine, every leaf on every tree vibrant and healthy despite the changing of seasons, gone orange and red with the cold. Despite that, it's surprisingly balmy in the forest, everything illuminated by glimmering fairy lights and strung up lanterns. Flowers bloom under your feet, alongside perfect little red mushrooms, everything so idealistic it almost borders on discomfort.
Despite any reservations, there is a wild compulsion to everyone who enters the forest. The flower the wizard gave you is pungent enough to dizzy your head, leading you to the instinct of frolicking β or if you're not the type to frolick, then wandering βΒ through the woods, to find some counterpart to your particular flower in a very innocent (or not so innocent) game of cat and mouse. Once you find them, a simple kiss will serve as enough to claim your prize and ease the compulsion. Unless, of course, you want to give a little more. It couldn't hurt, right?
Wander further through the seemingly never ending woods, drawn on of the beauty of faerie, and find yourself at a somewhat rundown chapel surrounded by foliage, the roof and walls broken down with age, invaded by exploring plant life that crawls and vines through every crack and opening. While the stone altar of indeterminate denomination seems like it hasn't been seen for hundreds of years, let alone cleaned, there's the distinct impression you are walking on hallowed, sacred ground when you move to inspect it. Those clever among you might note different runes etched on what appears to be a wooden tabernacle on an ancient pillar at the back of the chapel. Looking into it, there's a word from an unknown language carved inside, complimented with a cheat sheet bit of yellowing paper which reads F. M. K., with further explanation: FRIENDS, MARRY, KINK.
What could it mean? Well. You and whoever you entered the chapel with, or whoever enters next, are stuck until further notice unless you complete one of the proffered options. FRIENDS, it's time you bury the hatchet, let bygones be bygones and accept our faults moving forward, together, to the future. MARRY, let's seal our bonded union with the trees as our witness, in a church of our own making. KINK, if the altar can't be used for the former, it can certainly be used for the latter. Nothing vanilla will do βΒ kink up or shut up.
Once completed, you're free to leave and roam around the forest at your leisure. If you wander far enough you might hear a distant, organic sound whirring and clicking from the trees, but don't worry. Whatever is watching you probably doesn't bite.
The Ren Faire fixture runs adjacent to the tree line of the forest, which one can enter through a booth manned by THE GREAT WIZARD ARCHIBALD, who warns you to be prepared to enter the Realm of the Fae beyond his backdrop curtain, before handing you a flower and a pair of antlers (or a head piece from your fauna choice) for your journey to the beyond. Upon entering, you are greeted by a forest that bears no resemblance to the woods you've grown to expect in your time at the manor, everything more exaggeratedly lush than it had been even a day or so prior. Plump fruits with slightly glimmering skins grow fat on the vine, every leaf on every tree vibrant and healthy despite the changing of seasons, gone orange and red with the cold. Despite that, it's surprisingly balmy in the forest, everything illuminated by glimmering fairy lights and strung up lanterns. Flowers bloom under your feet, alongside perfect little red mushrooms, everything so idealistic it almost borders on discomfort.
Despite any reservations, there is a wild compulsion to everyone who enters the forest. The flower the wizard gave you is pungent enough to dizzy your head, leading you to the instinct of frolicking β or if you're not the type to frolick, then wandering βΒ through the woods, to find some counterpart to your particular flower in a very innocent (or not so innocent) game of cat and mouse. Once you find them, a simple kiss will serve as enough to claim your prize and ease the compulsion. Unless, of course, you want to give a little more. It couldn't hurt, right?
Wander further through the seemingly never ending woods, drawn on of the beauty of faerie, and find yourself at a somewhat rundown chapel surrounded by foliage, the roof and walls broken down with age, invaded by exploring plant life that crawls and vines through every crack and opening. While the stone altar of indeterminate denomination seems like it hasn't been seen for hundreds of years, let alone cleaned, there's the distinct impression you are walking on hallowed, sacred ground when you move to inspect it. Those clever among you might note different runes etched on what appears to be a wooden tabernacle on an ancient pillar at the back of the chapel. Looking into it, there's a word from an unknown language carved inside, complimented with a cheat sheet bit of yellowing paper which reads F. M. K., with further explanation: FRIENDS, MARRY, KINK.
What could it mean? Well. You and whoever you entered the chapel with, or whoever enters next, are stuck until further notice unless you complete one of the proffered options. FRIENDS, it's time you bury the hatchet, let bygones be bygones and accept our faults moving forward, together, to the future. MARRY, let's seal our bonded union with the trees as our witness, in a church of our own making. KINK, if the altar can't be used for the former, it can certainly be used for the latter. Nothing vanilla will do βΒ kink up or shut up.
Once completed, you're free to leave and roam around the forest at your leisure. If you wander far enough you might hear a distant, organic sound whirring and clicking from the trees, but don't worry. Whatever is watching you probably doesn't bite.
DIRECTORY
wildcard?? lmk if this doesn't work for you!
but the chapel is swift to remind him. he stumbles in there, not really knowing what to expect. frankly, he hasn't been paying attention to the game. he couldn't say now whether he was the hunter or the hunted. he'd been lost in the magic of it all, his own skin literally aglow with sunlight as he gave himself over to it.
he walks through that door, and for a moment that glow is still there. he is glowing, faintly but truly, like the light from outside doesn't want to let him go. then he sees koby, and it blinks off, as though he's flipped a switch. it makes the absence of that light somehow obviously, and dani glances down at his own hands, as though he hadn't noticed it before.
it's a brief distraction. he looks back up at koby, presses his lips together. then says: ]
I thought you were sick. In bed, being watched over.
[ he never answered that message but he did take note of it. ]
perfection!!!
Still, he stays aware, scanning the area around the chapel, adjusting to the parts of his new abilities that register the trees, the animals, the plants. Into this, a flicker -- no, a blaze, like looking directly into the sun, and Koby's mind shuts down the curious reach almost immediately, Shanks's training echoing in his head -- don't push yourself yet, cadet. He knows to turn, though, in time to see the light flicker off, the glow disappear from around -- ah.
To say that Koby's frightened would be an overstatement, but he's definitely immediately tense, leaning back against the altar, holding onto it with both hands for stability, eyes fixed somewhere to the left of Dani's feet. The emotion of that first week of October rears up like blood in his mouth and he swallows hard once, twice.] I was. I got better. [A vast oversimplification, but -- the last time they'd spoken, Dani had made it very clear he didn't want to hear from Koby again, ever, so he doesn't want to ramble on and on.]
no subject
Good.
[ he turns to leave.
except, of course, the door is closed, and doesn't move at his touch. he tries, for a moment, to force his way through it, but it's already obvious to him that he's back in the game he'd been ignoring.
so he sighs, and turns back to koby, and then makes a conscious effort to shift his gaze to the room.
a beautiful room. he likes it instantly, likes the way it feels. he moves forward to set his hand on the altar, and his eyes sweep up to the tablet. he can't read it, of course. he doesn't think he'd be able to even if he were educated, which he isn't. the paper that translates isn't much more clear to him, though he can pick some of the letters.
he doesn't want to ask koby for help. it does appear, however, that they're stuck here together, for better or worse. ]
Does it say what we're supposed to do? Some sort of...offering, to the god of this place?
no subject
The question gets another glance up at the translation pinned to the pillar, letting out a soft, weary sigh.] It says "Friends, Marry, Kink". I'm guessing that we have to choose one of those before we're allowed to leave. [It's a very Saltburnt-specific game, too -- bare your soul or your body and decide quickly. Koby's only surprised that there isn't a violent, bloody option as well, or something to do with wolves
Clearing his throat, he looks directly at Dani for the first time since he'd entered the chapel, squaring his shoulders and willing his voice to remain even, steady.] I don't think you have to mean it. We can just say we're friends and maybe it'll be enough. Letter of the law. I'm certainly not going to suggest getting married or -- or anything else.
no subject
What are you doing?
[ moving away, keeping the altar between them. he sees it. ]
I'm not going to hurt you.
no subject
Don't you want to? I hurt you. [But it's quiet, no venom in it, just a sort of hollow resignation. Koby knows how the world works, how people boil down to their most fundamental, instinctive, selfish urges. He'd seen it all last month, around him, in him.
Adding:] Even if you don't, you don't want me near you, and while I can't avoid that entirely at the moment, I can -- keep my distance. [A beat.] Also your presence is...bright. It's taking me longer to adjust.
no subject
and neither is dani, really.
that last part makes him glance down at his hands, just to check -- but there isn't any glow, so he rubs his fingers together. ]
I don't...know why, I'm not bright.
[ which he says warily, because there's every chance koby means that in a literal way. that he can see the sunlight inside, somehow.
gods, let's not make this more complicated. he shakes his head. ]
Is that really what you think of me, that I'll just attack you out of nowhere? I've never hurt anyone here.
But of course, I don't know why I'm surprised. Lexi hasn't either, and you still lit on him just because he's from my world. No, keep up with that, Koby, don't worry about letting proof get in the way.
no subject
[Then, offering:] It might not be you, it might be something about this place or from the forest or -- something that came in with you. I don't know, I'm not very good at it yet.
[This time, Koby doesn't flinch at the words, though his eyes drop again and his shoulders tense visibly, fingers curling into fists for a moment before slowly loosening again. Right. He'd -- wanted to say it for a while, would've if Dani hadn't made it clear: never speak to him again. But, well. If he goes back to doing that, once they're out of here, maybe this is his only chance? So, pulling in a shaky breath, he forces himself to look upwards.]
You're right. I -- was scared and I didn't think and I didn't want to see the way the evidence was pointing. Who it was pointing to. [He can admit that now, the uncertainty of that first round, not knowing if the wolves were acting of their own accord, trying to fall back on what he knew for certain: he trusted Louis, believed he'd never hurt anyone willingly. He only knew that Lexi condoned a world full of horrors. But the fact remained:] I directed my crew out of fear. And I directed them wrongly.
And I'm sorry.
no subject
so he's quiet, and then after a moment, he offers a brief little nod. when he speaks again, his tone has lost most of its venom.
He's the only one of them that was honest, [ he says, looking down. ] He never hid what he was like the others did. And there's that...awful Armand, who hides all his horror behind charm and actually does think of humans as cattle, and you...made him right. Everything he said about how vampires should hide, and be dishonest, because humans would turn on them otherwise. It made him right, and now Lexi thinks he was right, too. I have to...to show him, prove to him, that we're better than the vampires of our world think we are, that we deserve to live free and not on farms, that we can co-exist. And your crew proved the opposite. And worse, you used my words to do it.
[ that's the real root of it. it was dani's words, used against him. it wasn't just that the vampires couldn't trust the humans in this house, dani couldn't either. even the nice ones, who'd seemed sympathetic. ]
Maybe we're not better, maybe humanity isn't. When it comes down to it, maybe we can't think of the greater good, maybe we'll always only protect our own. That's what the game proved, isn't it, that's what everybody did.
no subject
What do you mean, about Armand, he wants to question, tasting the bitterness like blood in his mouth, like salt on the air. If you have to work so hard to prove youβre worthy of freedom, is he really worth convincing?, brimming just behind that. But Koby swallows these both back, rests his hands on the altar, tilts his head and listens.
And then, exhaling slowly, carefully:] It wasnβt that he was a vampire. It was that I was afraid of him. Fear is a very...very strong motivator. [But itβs weak; it feels horrible and isolating and helpless. Anger is so much stronger, safer.] And maybe youβre right. Thereβs nothing binding us all together aside from situation and circumstances. Maybe turning on one another is inevitable. I hope it isn't, but...
[Another sigh, then Koby tugs off his glasses, rubs at the bridge of his nose.] And if it helps, I donβt think anyone took my crew very seriously or gave us much credibility β including half of the crew. It was pretty obvious we had no proof and were just reacting out of panic.
no subject
[ they were not alone in that. alina did exactly the same thing, and notably dani hasn't spoken to her since. she'd been hurt, of course, and that accounts for some of it, but...
but not all.
that game had brought out the worst in everyone. but it had also brought out some truths about people that they don't overly like being seen. ]
And you say you were afraid of Lexi? Why, what did he do? If it wasn't that you knew he was a vampire from my world, if it wasn't do do with that. Why were you afraid of him?
cw: slavery themes
[The question sits like a knot in his throat for a moment, having him swallowing against it, eyes lowering back to the stone beneath his hands. It's a truth he doesn't want to unveil, true enough, the ugliness that made something cowering and fearful and weak out of him. Someone Koby hopes he isn't anymore, that he never will be again, though that fearful, helpless, cold and hungry and hurting boy in the hold of a ship has never, will never leave him.]
Because I've been owned before. [For a moment there's a taste like blood in his mouth as he remembers, as he thinks about -- no, not now. Not here. He can't let his thoughts go beyond salt air and blood and pain, can't let the memories crystallize further than that.] And anyone who -- condones that, actively or passively is someone I fear.
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then, finally, he softens, and nods. ]
Alright. I can understand that.
[ he wishes he'd been more circumspect about speaking of their world. he can't change that now, though, and he can't blame koby for reacting to what he knew.
this was dani's dault. it was always dani's fault, really.
he moves to the altar, resting his hands on it. ]
I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have told you what I did, not thinking. Lexi...doesn't know any other way that our world can work. But he knows it's not like that here. He wouldn't hurt you. He wouldn't hurt me, either. At home, it's too easy for him to look at Fields from a distance. I need him to see that they're full of people worth saving.
See that's why, that...every man for themselves, thing. It doesn't work for me. And I didn't do the same, by the way, I never voted for someone innocent just to protect my own. In the Field, something that hurt one of us hurt all of us. We were in it all together. Here, it's just very clear that we're not. It's your crew, it's Alina, Paul and Alia, it's everyone in their groups. I'm just the idiot who didn't see that before.