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draino2024-11-09 08:00 am
saltburnmods) wrote in draino2024-11-09 08:00 am
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๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐ โฃ 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 โ 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 ยซ NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEยป 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 isnโt, stay in bed and wallow โ eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe itโs normal for you. Maybe it isnโt.
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 โ have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenโt 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.
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐: 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.
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
โ momofuku's "cereal milk" โ
โ fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss โ
โ a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping โ
โ a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling โ
โ poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection โ
If you want to leave, youโll 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 heโs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereโs no reason why you canโt 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 doesnโt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canโt 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 doesnโt dissipate, though โ 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, itโs 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 โ have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenโt 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
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐: 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.
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
THE SWEETS
โ fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss โ
โ a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping โ
โ a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling โ
โ poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection โ
If you want to leave, youโll 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 heโs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereโs no reason why you canโt 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 doesnโt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canโt 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 doesnโt dissipate, though โ 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, itโs 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 โย 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 โ 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 โย 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 โ 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 โย 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 โ 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 โย 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 โ 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 โ or if you're not the type to frolick, then wandering โย 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 โย 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 โ or if you're not the type to frolick, then wandering โย 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 โย 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
taggie o'hara | rivals | new character
๐) ( never having actually heard of a renaissance faire before, the whole idea seems a bit silly to taggie. more the sort of thing her little sister would have loved. but she's getting tired of hiding away, and no matter how many times she presses giles on the matter of a car ride home, no matter how many times he assures her one is on the way, it never seems to appear. so she makes the decision to at least try to fit in here, finds the one dress in her wardrobe that seems like it might fit the theme, and makes her way to the grounds.
to anyone paying her the slightest bit of attention, it's painfully obvious how uncomfortable she is. sure, she smiles and even manages to make a bit of eye contact here and there, but for the most part her eyes stick mostly to the ground.
until she finds the food stalls, that is. everything looks and smells incredible, and happily she finds most of the vendors willing to negotiate their rather odd pricing. a kiss on the cheek doesn't seem like too steep a cost for the plate of garlic mushrooms she gets in return and, biting into one with a happy little sigh, she turns to whoever might be next to her. ) Have you tried these yet? ( whether yes or no, she'll gladly hold her own plate up as offering. ) Try one, they're amazing!
๐) ( stomach full and feeling a bit more comfortable in her surroundings, taggie makes her way through the shops next. the items for sale are nothing too exciting, the same sort of toys and knick-knacks that could be found at any street festival back home. still she browses contentedly, now and then picking some random something or other up to look at it a little closer.
it's all well and good until one of the shop keepers, not picking up on or more likely not caring about her lack of any real interest, corners her. overwhelming her with random bits of information about his wares and endless rounds of if you like that then you'll love this. too nice simply to tell him off or walk away, she casts her eyes around desperately for help. maybe she meets your character's glance, or maybe they can simply tell how much she'd love to flee this conversation. either way, please help her! )
๐น๐๐๐ ๐จ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐น๐๐๐๐.
( look, growing up in ireland she spent much of her childhood hearing about the dangers of the fae. stories her parents always laughed off as fairytale garbage, so she had too. or tried too, at least. it's next to impossible to stop those stories from seeping into your subconscious when you're only a child. so while the forest beyond the booth looks like something out of a dream (and not those fae nightmares), taggie finds she's too nervous to step through alone.
standing near the entrance, she twirls the stem of a small yellow poppy between her thumb and forefinger, smiling brightly at the first person to approach the booth by themselves. ) I'm so sorry to bother you. ( for what it's worth, she is genuinely sorry. all too aware of how ridiculous this is. ) Do you mind if I go in with you?
๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ .
( i'm the worst at open starters, so no worries if none of these appeal to you. but pls feel free to toss up your own starter if you like, i'm down for anything. or if you'd rather hash something out, just shoot me a pm! )
2 girls 1 cup (b)
Still, it's a bit awkward; Ren Faires have never really been her thing, so she grips her skirts tensely as she explores the grounds, frantically swerving the various obscenities taking place as best she can... which has lead her here, now, into Taggie's line of sight. The expression on the other woman's face is clearly recognizable for what it is, and Dawn just can't ignore the strangely maternal pull to intervene. ]
Oh, there you are! My goodness, I've been looking all overโ
[ she says quickly, swooping close to put a hand on the other woman's arm. The vendor attempts to interrupt, but Dawn cuts him off with a sharp swipe of her hand in the universal gesture of wordlessly suggesting he talk to it instead. ]
Thank you, sir, but we're not interested in any of your smelly candles.
no subject
( allowing herself to be steered away with a faint smile and thank you, sir thrown back to the merchant because she's physically incapable of being even sort of mean, taggie waits until they're outside before turning to face the woman. trying, but not quite managing to stifle a giggle, pitching her voice down in case he happens to be listening still. )
Those candles really were awful. ( a quick glance over her shoulder confirming he's not there, her shoulders finally drop as she allows herself to relax. ) I don't know how I can possibly thank you for that. I was afraid I was going to be trapped there all day!
2g1c (a)
for the briefest of moments, rupert considers it a trick of the eye, perhaps some improper flash of light. after all, it can't be, ... can it? of all the souls to be whisked away with him by some unseen twister of chance, had something like fate finally dealt him a kind hand in this wonderland? ( taggie? )
he steps to her side as her tastes are preoccupied, moving in stride as she does. rupert has always admired her ability to operate in her own world; in fact, some part of him had even come to envy it. what must it be like there? what must he look like โ some jaded prince slurring at the ground just beyond her tower? a brow quirks, his head cants. try one, they're amazing. ]
Tempting. Although, I can't imagine they hold much of a candle to yours.
[ he grins, then, waiting patiently for realization to strike, before โ ]
Hello, angel.
no subject
is so much not expecting him, in face, that she very nearly chokes on the stupid mushroom she's eating. ) Oh my god.
( it's carried on a faint gasp as she turns to face him fully. even if she wanted to, even if she had time to stop and consider it, there's no hiding the bright smile that overtakes her or the way her eyes light up. for the space of a heartbeat she considers throwing her arms around him, settles instead for: )
It's really you.
no subject
Just Rupert, darling. Surely you've not forgotten already.
[ the corners of his mouth tick upwards into a knowing grin.
he finds himself immediately enraptured with the brightness of her eyes, the way her features appear to have clicked on with the help of some unseeable light. it feels as though not a day has passed since he'd seen her last, and yet, he knows better, knows that it has been, perhaps, the furthest part of a week since he'd seen those eyes, since he'd found his way to this impossible corner of the world.
it takes every fibre of his being to avoid reaching out, to draw her in nearer in front of anyone, everyone who dare look their way. ( and with all eyes on the tourney, who might wish to? ) instead, he grabs either end of his towel with both his hands, knuckles paling as he winds his fingers around material. a brief glance surveys, takes stock of the earnest lack of declan o'hara, and very gladly returns to the sight of her. ]
It's really me, I can assure you.
no subject
but he looks at her with that wolfish smile that she adores so much, the one that makes her feel like at any moment he might just eat her up and that she might not even fight him if he did. those dark eyes that seem to be able to read every thought in her mind. and she believes him, knows that this isn't a dream or a figment of her possibly crazy brain. )
As if I could ever forget you. ( plate now forgotten in her hand, she's all but beaming up at him, eyes bright and disbelieving. ) I just can't believe...how long have you been here?
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You're right, they're not bad.
[ he still maintains that hers might fully surpass these. ]
Not long. Three days, give or take. Time seems to pass somewhat strangely here.
[ he shakes his head gently, waving his hand at a wandering merchant that draws near, and realizes this is their cue to start moving again, lest they be bombarded by more wares than they can possibly handle. he takes the plate from her fingers, settling it back to the shop she's frequented and flashes the owner a bright smile. turning, then, he extends his elbow, offering it to taggie with a nod of his head. ]
Shall we?
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he does it on purpose of course. she's all too aware of the way he can barely stop himself flirting with just about anyone in his path. if only that knowledge were enough to stop the way her body warms to him.
finally she looks up again, clearing her throat softly. )
Time, yeah. I've noticed it all seems a bit meaningless here. ( what with the near constant parties and how they all seem to run into each other. not that she's actually attended any of them. ) Still, I'm surprised I haven't run into you sooner. ( though maybe not so surprised. she would have had to have left her room for that.
dimly she registers him taking the plate from her, self-consciously smoothing her now free hand over the waist of her dress, feeling suddenly very plain. far too caught up in him to notice the approaching merchant or the way rupert smoothly deflects, she does her very best not to look too pleased with the offered arm, she doesn't hesitate to slip her own through his.
it's a humiliating thought, but she would lead just about anywhere he wanted to go. )
The perfect gentleman, even in these bizarre circumstances.
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It is a bit of a surprise, isn't it?
[ he pats the hand she's slipped through his arm once, twice, and gives it a gentle squeeze โ perhaps, in part to ground himself again, truly solidify the fact that she's here; the other, because in this moment, after all this time, he simply can. ]
Well, we've found one another now, haven't we? Why look a gift horse in the mouth?
[ from what he's learned, it's a rarity in itself, to find those you know in such a sea of strangers. for days now, he'd been taking stock of what he could, accumulating what knowledge there was readily available to newcomers. to be given such a beautiful gift so soon, he'll count what little blessings there are to be had here. ]
I thought we might take a little stroll. Take in the afternoon, as it were.
[ he begins their walk slowly, starting her past a shop with a peculiarly heavy scent of clove. ]
What do you say?
ring around the rosey.
so he might actually be a little surprised when the woman halts him in his path as he starts to step forward towards the curtain leading to some kind of mystical realm (not that he believes in it, but he's been trying to keep a close eye on pretty much everything going on around here). though maybe it's the antlers that wizard forced on his head that makes him appear less intimidating.
he raises a brow, looking down at her with a long pause, as if to make sure her question really had been directed towards him before he replies. ] Think something's gonna jump at you?
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cheeks shading to pink, she ducks her head with a rueful chuckle, or own antlered crown shifting as she does. )
No, of course not. ( except she doesn't sound any more convincing then she looks when she finally meets his stare again. her own gaze just a little too wide. ) Only...he did sound very convincing. ( and as strange as things seem around here, faeries don't seem entirely unlikely. )