guess who!

[bronze]

what's this? it seems like there's a board game for you and a friend to play — one guess who, featuring all the guests currently in saltburnt! post a blank top-level with your character and play the game in the comments, keeping your assigned character in mind (you'll want a different character for each thread, fyi!).

for ease's sake, all threads will be outside of the au event 🖤

Comments

[temporicide]

Mm-mn, no. But that gets philosophical.

Is it somebody who uses magic?

[preborns]

Not so, just factual. [primly.]

I believe so. Unsure what kind. Is yours an average sort of person?

[temporicide]

Is yours a man?

Not at all.

[preborns]

Mmmm, he is, yes.

Is yours young? My age, thereabouts?

[temporicide]

Just about your age, yeah.

Is yours new in the house, or has he been here a long time?

[preborns]

As ageless and lovely as the stars. [so intones the 20-year-old, flicking her little tiles down with a fingertip.]

Mmmm, not so long as I, but longer than you, I believe. Was yours present for last October, do you know?

[temporicide]

That I'd agree with. [ Not spoiling this is proving a matter of some willpower. She casts an appraising glance at the photo held in hand, smile warm. ]

I think so. Is yours under thirty?

[preborns]

Are you fond of them? [still learning the language of roza's little smiles, which are given freely, which reserved for those in highest regard. it's a science alia does not often find herself fascinated by, and yet...]

I believe well over, though I haven't had occasion to ask.

[temporicide]

[ Here the smile in question widens, teeth in it. A frisson of excitement. Emphatically: ] Yeah. The more I know them, the fonder I get.

Okay. Okay, okay. I think I'm developing a hypothesis. Does this person look kind of young, or at least younger than he really is?

[preborns]

It's not me, is it? [batting her eyes, deliberately coy, overly sweet, mouth curling into a smug little bow.]

Mmmm, yes. Somewhat. I'd say.

[temporicide]

Heyyyy, you win!

[ Roza spins her little portrait around towards Alia, so that they are presently face-to-face. The coquettish expression is impossible not to share in, although Roza's less coy and more directly pleased. ] I knew that would be the question that got me.

[ But she doesn't really mind. Not in the least, as it happens. ]

What would you like for your grand prize?

[preborns]

[she'd been mostly teasing, feigning self-centeredness with her nose in the air and her chin held high, but -- roza turns the little tile, shows the face, and alia's mouth drops open a bit, sweetly surprised, blinking between her own image and roza several times.]

-- oh. [genuine, a warmth in her eyes, in the pulse of her mind, her consciousness in the unseen.] You are sweet, aren't you?

[a soft laugh as she turns her own tile -- marazhai -- to end the round, then rests her chin on her hand in thought.] Hmmm, I get a grand prize, do I? Tell me, what are the parameters and procedures? What rules govern my choice?