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peacockstop2024-08-15 09:00 pm
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TDM 05


【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
Due to a high volume of check-ins, temporary accommodations have been made in our KING SUITES for all new arrivals. We will endeavor to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience.
As a token of our gratitude for your understanding, front reception has arranged for a GRAND FEAST to welcome our newest guests. The attendance of all guests is required. The house will enforce compliance.
Please note that rank-appropriate attire is mandatory. Guests found breaking social code may be disciplined. We hope you enjoy your stay! 】

ARRIVAL
DIVINE AWAKENING




All King suites have been set to the Heavenly setting for the comfort of these new Wildcards. To call this place a room feels like a misnomer; all of the senses scream that this is a real temple at the top of a crisp oceanside mountain. The only clue that this place isn't what it seems is the door in the distance. It stands dark against light, a stark rectangle distinctly out of place.
New arrivals aren't waking up alone. Reception would never expect their guests to wake up in a cold bed. All new guests will be waking up next to another Wildcard or a current guest snatched up from the hallways. Guests waking up in these heavenly King suites will wake dressed in sheer white tunics and togas that leave very little to the imagination.
GILDED CAGE
AN ENDLESS FEAST




Rugs and cushions have been laid out for low rank guests. All high rank guests have thrones and benches covered in crushed velvet and delicate linens. Wildcards have a seat of honor amongst it all, each fresh new divine lead to the grand dais for their own semi-private tent with daybed and eager servants.
Low ranks are carefully watched by security and wait staff. Some low rank guests may even be dragged in by resort staff to assist serving high rank guests and Wildcards. All high rank guests and Wildcards are revered and catered to during the feast. Low rank guests are expected to feed them, rub their feet, and comply with any whimsical demands. Any low rank guest that defies a higher ranked guest is at risk of being shackled, forced to scrub chamber pots, and other humiliating punishments.

PHOENIX CASINO
ALEA IACTA EST




The game tables are abuzz. Special games have kicked off in honor of the new godlings that are waiting to check in. Even here, those of different ranks are distinct from one another. The lowest ranks wear small slips of clothing. Some are even collared to show they belong to a particular royal or Wildcard. Royals and Wildcards dress luxuriously in thick robes and golden jewelry.
Game managers clap and encourage guests of all ranks to join in on the fun. While there are numerous card games, slot machines, and raffles happening around the casino, staff are promoting three events in particular.
BEAK
ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS




Beneath the open arena is a smaller closed arena and the warrior’s bunk. Warriors will find cold showers, rustic wooden benches, and training weapons available for their use. Deep in the earth is a grimy prison where servants who refuse to battle are thrown to wait for their turn. There are also cages where the hungry “animals” wait to go out and entertain the masses.
A long track rings around the perimeter of the arena. Gone is the standard green fuzz and white lines, replaced with stone and dust to elicit the real feeling of running beneath the hot Grecian sun. Foot and chariot races take place throughout the day.
TALON
SHOW OF STRENGTH




Servants that appear too fragile to handle mud wrestling have been conscripted into the oil bearer role. Their job is to slather the warriors in oil from head to toe, and otherwise prepare them for their matches in either the arena or in the pit. This includes styling their hair, tending to their wounds, and wiping the sweat off of their bodies if so desired.
The locker rooms that connect Beak and Talon have been fully stocked with first aid kits and luxury bathing supplies. Warriors that have won their matches get first pick, leaving the dirty towels and shampoo that smells like ass for the losers to sift through. Those sneaky ghost hands are having a field day, snapping rat tails at unsuspecting bathers and locking naked warriors together in the supply closet. Guests lacking vigilance may find their bottoms unexpectedly pinched.

INDULGENCE
DESIRES FROM THE VOID




Things begin to move around the resort. The forgotten and the old exhale a dusty breath. Like the hunger that the Wildcards woke up with upon arrival, as its heart begins to beat quicker, there is a tension in the air of those things hungering to feed. To join in, and indulge. To get what they want.
And they’re coming out.
OOC NOTES
▶ BLANKET CW: Alcohol; aphrodisiacs; battle; blood; bondage; compulsion; costumes; discipline; dominance; drowning; dubcon; fears; fighting; food; hierarchy; humiliation; indulgence; kidnapping; noncon; paranormal; power imbalance; roleplay; servitude; stalking; submission; supernatural; terror; violence; weapons
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
▶ All characters on the TDM are WILDCARDS, which means they have not yet been assigned a card value. Suits will not manifest until characters are accepted into the game.
▶ All TDMs are game canon. This TDM acts as the game's August event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from August 15th - September 1st.
▶ Current characters may top level on the TDM. Any current characters posting to the TDM should note they are current in their subject header.
▶ The top level directory is for new characters only. We want to make sure new characters are prioritized and receive attention! If you would be interested in a game invitation, you can note that in your comment header.
▶ If you aren't satisfied with these prompts, please feel free to check out our LOCATIONS to explore more of the resort!
▶ Smut threads that take place on this TDM can be used for rewards. If both parties in the smut thread join the game, you may retroactively apply the character's initial card values to your 52 bank. If one character does not join the game the thread will not be applicable toward rewards (as that character would not have a card value). The character that does join would still receive a small payout for the encounter. Hopefully it was a fun thread regardless!
▶ Wildcard tokens from the GILDED CAGE prompt may be redeemed even if the newbie(s) in question do not join the game, but only for the small item reward; the token does not carry over to Game 52.
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate.
▶ If you do not currently have permissions and kinks listed in your character’s journal we suggest leaving a note in your top level of any limits or boundaries for other players to reference.
▶ Don't forget to relax and enjoy the end of your summer! ♥
Sylus / Love & Deepspace / New
2. Rich kid, asshole, paint me as a villain (Indulgence)
3. I get expensive fabrics, I got expensive habits (Auction)
4. I can buy yo' ass the world with my paystub (Battle Royale)
5. critics that say he's "Money Cash Hoes" (Muscle Contest)
6. No one knows what it means, but it's provocative (Galatea)
7. I don't start shit, but I can tell you how it ends (Narcissus)
8. My 'give-a-fucks' are on vacation (Wildcard!!!)
Indulgence
The silver lining, he supposes, is that when his whim is "wander around the banquet hall," nobody makes a move to stop him. His restlessness brings him past Sylus' daybed around the same time that yet another servant goes scampering away, red-faced with their inability to bring the Wildcard what he wants. Ross watches them go, then looks back at this temporary emperor lounging on his throne. ]
Not up to your standards?
[ His tone is acid as lemon juice, tart and biting. The gold laurels twining up his arms mark him as another newly arrived Wildcard, even if he's apparently doing his best to avoid the perks that come with it. ]
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He leans back further into the daybed, stretching out with the kind of practised ease that comes from years of commanding attention without even trying.] Let’s just say I’m not easily impressed.
[He lets his gaze wander over Ross, noting the discomfort, the way he seems to resist the trappings of his new status. It’s almost charming, this attempt to avoid the perks that come with power. Almost.] What about you? You don't seem pleased, either.
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Not for the first time, Alan wonders what went wrong with him to have his brain so hellbent on seeing upper-class pricks brought low, and his cock so insistent on wanting those upper-class pricks to fuck him mercilessly. Catholic guilt or something? ]
No, I suppose not. But I'm saving it for the people who put us here. [ He waves at the servants. ] All of us. Why not enjoy what you can?
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help, this tag is amazing
ty ;; I'm sorry I'm so slow
worth waiting for!
3. i'm here for funny
The auction was only interesting for the first few rounds, but after a while, it's more timesome to remain since there's little value being offered. Sure, everyone is clamouring to have a Wildcard all to themselves, but Six already snagged a well-mannered butler so he's not too keen to do much else. The only thing that catches his eye is the commotion caused by Sylus once it's his turn to be paraded around like a pretty lamb meant to be bought up (and devoured?).
His attitude is what keeps Six watching, the man's comment earning an amused huff from the erune before he looks the other way. Congrats, Sylus. You managed to make him laugh a little!! But he's not interested in buying. :( ]
and i aim to please
Sylus’s eyebrow arches, his expression a mix of curiosity and challenge. The silent question hangs in the air between them: Well?
He respects the person's discernment, recognizing a kindred spirit in his apparent disinterest. But at the same time, there’s an unspoken expectation. Here he is, the leader of Onychinus being bargained for what he wouldn't even dare pay for a measly single protocore, an unsightly amount that would make some think he's counting his money. Everyone else is falling over themselves, throwing what is probably their fortunes at his feet (but change next to him), and yet this one remains aloof, untouched by the frenzy. Sylus isn’t used to being overlooked, especially by someone who seems to understand the absurdity of the situation as well as he does.
His lips curl into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a silent dare: Are you really going to just sit there?
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—a challenge, a test. He wants to see if this one will break the mold, step out of the shadows and into the game. Just because Sylus finds this whole charade beneath him, something is intriguing about the ones who don’t fall in line with the rest.]
as you always do
Then again, it doesn't hurt. He can spare a few moments just to break the monotony that has descended upon the auctions. It's something different to do, at least, even if his credits will remain unspent. (For now.) ]
Can I help you with something?
[ As intense as the other man's gaze is, Six isn't in the mood to decipher it... Just cut to the chase! ]
wow don't put me on blast
is it putting you on blast if it's the truth!!
it is bc now everyone knows u_u
but it's not a lie...
so much for keeping it on the dl tho...
pls... i'm love u
do u rly
yes???? why would you doubt me!!!
this gaslighting...
???? how is this gaslighting
idk you tell me
but you brought it up!!
indulgence.
his lips curve in a faint smile when his amber eyes meet red ones, the hand holding onto his teacup lifting in a small salutation. ]
If the wine is not to your liking, perhaps a cup of tea might be instead?
[ a hot cup of tea? in this weather?? ]
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When the man offers the tea, Sylus tilts his head, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, fingers tapping his temple. A cup of tea, in this sweltering heat? It’s a curious offer, one that suggests a level of sophistication and understanding that’s rare in these parts. After all, those tribes who live in the desert do indulge in different types of hot teas.]
Tea, you say? [He studies the gentleman, weighing the offer.] What kind?
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It appears to be a type of bergamot tea, though I am less familiar with black tea than I am green. [ which, unfortunately, does not deter him from seguing into a tea lecture all the same. ] But it is pleasant and tolerable to the tongue. The scent, as well, leaves one feeling relaxed. The fragrance of the citrus does not overpower the delicate flavor of the leaves, and it pairs well with the melon cakes being served with today's meal.
[ literally no one asked but okay.
there's a wave of his hand—and then a servant is appearing, rushed footsteps slowing before they hold out a teapot and another cup. truly, how convenient. he cannot say he misses the deference from his archon days, but there is a certain convenience in having someone ready to bow to one's every whim. ]
Shall I pour you a cup?
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you would make me write another dissertation
can you blame me for enjoying it when this man speaks
(pensive) you're not wrong though
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i made that edit and then i completely forgot where i was going with it
you're doing great sweetie
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2...
is no one surprised when they yield absolutely nothing? what does hold his attention, however is a man in the center of it all. posture much like royalty and their subjects; his demeanor seeming carefully honed like one would expect from a predator. he cocks his head in slight interest as he walks over. ] If your goal was to scare the tinier fish away, it's working. [ he says as if he has no real investment in the topic,
and yet he lifts his glass towards sylus as if silently saying cheers as he takes an idle sip. did he really just come here to be contrarian? pretty much. though, it's also clear, as much as people vied for his attention, this may have been the "safest" place. ]
RAFFIE BBG I'M??????
Sylus has heard of bounties placed on Rafayel’s head for the most trivial of reasons: 'He painted my wife too beautiful,' 'His painting made me dream of a life where I was happy and too free.' It’s almost amusing how much free time the wealthy must have to conjure such grievances.
As Rafayel lifts his glass in a silent toast, Sylus’s curiosity deepens. Yet, at the absence of his own glass (having been taken hurriedly by a servant shaking their head nervously), he nods a slow, measured motion. He studies the artist, noting the boredom in his expression. It’s a look Sylus understands well—he too has seen the emptiness behind the grandeur, the hollowness of opulence.
With a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he chuckles.] Perhaps. I suppose it fits your standards. Doesn’t it?
[This place, with all its superficial excess, is nothing more than a stage, and they are both far too accustomed to playing their parts. But in Rafayel, Sylus sees something more—a man who, like himself, understands the darker sides of beauty and art, the chaos that often lurks beneath the surface.
Sylus leans back slightly, taking in the newcomer with a renewed sense of interest.]
So, [leisured, calm, like nothing of this is outside of his plans,] I assume you’re not here to paint pretty pictures for the masses.
[Was this force that subdued their volition so adamant that not even those who are notoriously mercurial could escape? That's new. (A bit concerning. But still very new.)]
🥺🥺🥺
if just because as much as sylus is assessing him, he's doing the same. ] "Perhaps." [ he repeats, clearly attempting to get some vague semblance of a verbal inch in. it's barely anything but bravado. ] It is pretty comfortable...
[ yet, it couldn't be further from the truth. as easygoing as rafayel behaves, there's not a single thing about this that feels like "mo studios." that feels like being back at "home." then again, that is probably to be expected when a lemurian's concept of home is all but specks of sand now. but, it isn't like he's going to expose that vulnerability. at the topic of his pictures... ] Of course not. To begin with, my art isn't for other people to understand.
[ he perpetuates that point, before taking another delicate sip. while this could sound a bit contradictory considering he's an artist, it's always been his stance. the "masses: were free to interpret as they wish, and recite as many reviews as they've read online as they'd like. but, at the same time, if he were to paint, wouldn't the rich here be the perfect buyers? much like at home, they exude the same greed and desire. ]
And you? Tired of everything Linkon City has to offer?
I love him sm...
me 2 sylus!!!
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4
The resort staff have at least seen fit to (roughly) change her out of her scanty scullery garb into something that looks like a farce for armor. The little skirt barely covers anything and the chest piece looks like it could have been chain mail if someone only had coins to string together. At least the axe is...sort of useable and by that she means it's dull and wouldn't be able to hurt a fly. Not that she actually wants to to hack someone open - the thought actually makes her a little sick to her stomach.
Any hopes of fighting and hiding are quickly dashed as she's thrust out into the open arena with no warning - right into a hulking bulk of a man who just so happens to be the opponent Sylus is trying to beckon over. She barely catches herself from tumbling to the ground and when she does she lets out a nervous laugh as the man whirls around immediately thinking he's found an easier target. ]
Oh, hi! What do we say to making this as painless as possible? And by that I mean completely painless. Blood and bruises make me queasy.
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He notices the nervous laugh she lets out, the way her voice wavers as she tries to negotiate her way out of the fight. The hulking man, sensing an easy victory, looms over her, his focus now entirely on what he perceives as easy prey.
Sylus lets out a low, almost inaudible chuckle. 'Painless?' he thinks. 'You’re in the wrong place for that.' But there’s a contrast to the usual brutality of the arena, her audacity, or maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of her being here at all.]
Looks like you’ve caught his attention, [Sylus murmurs, his voice smooth and tinged with dark amusement. He steps forward, the silver markings on his skin catching the light as he moves with the grace of a predator as he slowly maneuvers himself and hits two jabs right in the soft spots of the hukling man's sides.] But you’ve got mine too, and I don’t happen to share.
[With a slow, deliberate motion, he beckons the brute again, this time with more intensity.] Try me instead. [He smiles.
The hulking figure hesitates, torn between the easy target and the far more dangerous one. Sylus doesn’t give him the chance to choose. In a swift, fluid motion, he’s on the man, striking with speed and precision. The impact reverberates through the arena, a brutal reminder of who the true predator is in this fight.]
You either need to learn to escape the arena, or learn quickly how to get out of here. [He turns to her, fastening the wrappings around his knuckles.
And slowly… the hulking opponent stumbles, waddles, and…
Falls with a large and reverberating thud.] Huh.
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But then the white haired man is speaking to her - at least she thinks he is - and the unmistakable sound of leather striking skin follows. The effects of his punches aren't immediately apparent. But it's enough to draw the man's attention and Hilda watches as the once hulking human falls with a crash to the dirt. The small dust cloud it kicks up would be comical in any other setting and probably does make a couple of those watchers laugh – but all Hilda can think about is how fast he'd moved. The only reason she thinks she could have seen any of it all is because of her Crest.
There's a beat where her mouth falls open and she has to remind herself to shut it unless she wants to choke on the dust left in the wake of their very fleeting opponent. Finally she finds her voice that has a dash of that audacity and a sprinkle of incredulity. ]
No, really? I didn't even want to be here in the first place!
[ Wariness falls across her face as she eyes him up. Normally she'd say thank you but the game isn’t called Kindness Royale. ]
You're not going to do that to me are you? Because I’m definitely not any kind of competition.
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battle royale.
why they decided to shove clorinde in as well, she honestly has no idea. she looks a little annoyed more than anything else, rounding the arena to put distance between herself and the other opponents. it means she ends up next to sylus as he beckons the men forward, amethyst eyes glancing briefly at his wrapped fists. ]
Confident.
[ well, he certainly looks like it. that's all she's able to get out though before the three opponents move closer; emboldened by the presence of the new additions, the first opponent quickly moves within striking distance of sylus followed closely by the second one. the third turns his focus to clorinde, who sidesteps his lunge as she keeps an eye on sylus' side of the arena. ]
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His attention shifts to Clorinde as she moves to his side, her amethyst eyes briefly meeting his. She notes his confidence, and he can’t help but chuckle. Confidence is simply knowing what you’re capable of, and Sylus has conquered one of the most dangerous organizations in his world with that very knowledge.
The fight begins, the first two opponents closing in on Sylus fast. To knock the first one is very easy: Sylus remains still, calculating, letting the man think he has the upper hand. Just as the hulking figure swings a meaty fist, Sylus steps to the side with effortless grace, the motion fluid, almost lazy. His own fist connects with the man’s jaw in a swift, brutal uppercut, the impact reverberating through the air with a sickening crack.
he third man targets Clorinde, lunging at her, but she sidesteps with ease, her movements sharp and controlled. Sylus takes a moment to assess her side, watching her fluidly dispatch her opponent, her technique as precise as a blade. She doesn’t need assistance; she’s more than capable of handling herself.
It’s almost distracting—almost.
In that split second, his second opponent makes a move, charging at him with the force of a bull. Sylus shifts his focus just in time, moving with lightning speed. His knee drives into the man’s solar plexus with brutal precision, the impact reverberating through his opponent’s body.
The crowd roars as Sylus casually slips one hand into his pocket, as if bored by the whole affair. The man staggers back, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his face contorted in pain. Sylus knows the damage he’s inflicted: a likely broken rib, his diaphragm thrown off-kilter. The man crawls away, struggling for breath, and Sylus watches him with a cold detachment.
It's then that he realizes that he's not crawling away. But towards the servant, who shook visibly and whimpered, fallen onto weakened knees on the floor and looking at the both of them with wide eyes. Smoke-like ribbons of black and red coil around her suddenly, and lift her off the ground. Away from the still-gasping man, behind Sylus. Sylus' eyes didn't even dart at her, no matter how terrifying being physically manipulated by something non-tangible is and she's yelping in fright and fear.] Just what, exactly, were you expecting to do with her?
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clorinde, meanwhile, turns her focus to the servant girl, coming up to her side and gently shushing her. the energy binding her keeps her just out of clorinde's reach, and as the opponent finds his footing and signals for more contestants to be brought in, she addresses sylus instead. ]
Let the girl go, she'll only get in the way. We can take care of the rest.
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sorry for the wait!!
pls you're good I've been so slow (I hope this is fine lmk if you want this to go somewhere else)
1
Where...
[ He looks around, brows furrowing over his crimson eyes; for a moment, it's easy to believe that he's no longer in the resort, but a temple of some sort, overlooking the seas and mountains.
But the watch remains on his wrist, and the suit mark endures on his skin, and between his state of dress and the scent of this place—
It must be a king suite, he thinks. So, then... ]
Um... excuse me. You're new here, right? They've probably screwed up the arrivals again...
[ And the last thing he wants to do right now is explain how this godsforsaken place works to a poor newcomer.. He sighs. ]
I'm Kaveh. Welcome to the Golden Peacock Resort and Casino.
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Kaveh, he calls himself. Sylus’s eyes move over him, taking in the way he seems to blend with the brightness around him as if he were part of the rays themselves. The thought irritates him. Why would they place someone like him, someone who seems so obviously acclimated to this place, in the same room? Was this man supposed to be some sort of guide, sent to ease him into whatever twisted game this is?
The mere idea grates on him. But intel is intel regardless of who grants it.
Sylus’s eyes move to the gauzy curtains that flutter gently in the breeze, the soft light filtering through them almost painful to his dark-adapted senses. The brightness is unbearable, suffocating in its warmth. His stomach pangs again, a sharp reminder of the hunger that continues to gnaw at him, deep and insistent, and he groans, adjusts his spot on the bed.]
Can you close the curtains? [Sylus finally asks, his voice curt and low, laced with the irritation that simmers just beneath the surface. They're on Kaveh's side, anyway.] It’s too bright.
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He's about to do even worse as he's handed a plate of food to bring to the new guy, the old timers of the hotel looking on with envy.
Envy that quickly turns to horror as Gen slams the plate down in front of Sylus with enough force to make sure a little food bounces off of it and right onto the man's lap. ]
Try not to need anything else. I'm a busy guy.
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His eyes drift upward, meeting Gen’s defiant glare with arched eyebrows, a look of dangerously amused curiosity settling on his features. For a moment, the other servants look around at themselves as the tension builds thick and heavy as if the place itself is holding its breath, waiting for Sylus’s reaction.
But instead of anger, instead of the expected outburst, Sylus tilts his head slightly, a cold smile curling at the corners of his lips.]
Oh no. [A deadpan tone, voice smooth and unhurried. Like he just watched a little rabbit fall onto a trap.] I guess I’ll have to request laundry service next. How terrible that I'll have to bother you when you're so busy.
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Not, like, just him, to be fair? Fuuta truly, genuinely hates this whole system. And not just because he's a lowly rank-two forcefully enlisted as a servant, forced to stand around waiting hand and foot on these uppity fuckers. It's more that this whole dumb system really does leave a foul aftertaste in his mouth, watching people act like they're sooooo high and mighty. And what, just because they got lucky and landed some high numbers? Just because they happened to get here at this timing? (And where was his lavish welcome when he ended up in this stupid place, huh?!)
Fuuta's actually been standing silently by Sylus's daybed for the past half-hour, obediently holding a huge palm frond in place to shade him from the bright overhead lights. Threats from the guards (both unspoken and overt) have taught him his place for now, but he's never been one to learn his lessons quickly or easily. And honestly, this guy's conduct really is gross enough that he can't hold his tongue forever.
So, as Sylus settles back into the plush cushions and that poor servant retreats, he might hear Fuuta give a quiet click of the tongue to himself and mutter under his breath, ]
Maybe that's the best you deserve, asshole. Let's see you do any better.
[ In typical cowardly fashion, he'd muttered it softly, hoping it would go unheard and unnoticed, convincing himself that that sneaky rebellion alone would be enough to claim that he hasn't truly succumbed to this tyrannical system. Too bad his timing was poor; there'd been a lull in the ambient noise just as he said it, and those words sure were audible to Sylus, given how close by Fuuta is standing. Whoopsie. ]
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He doesn’t even bother to glance at Fuuta at first. Instead, he remains reclined, eyes half-lidded, the picture of indifference. The soft rustle of the palm frond in the boy’s hands is the only sound breaking the stillness. Sylus allows the tension to build, savouring the awkwardness, the uncertainty. It’s a delicious moment, watching to see if he has the nerve to stand by his words—or if he’ll crumble under the pressure.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sylus shifts his gaze, slowly, and deliberately, letting his eyes land on Fuuta. He says nothing, just studies him, his expression unreadable, as if dissecting a curious specimen.
Will Fuuta pretend it didn’t happen? Will he fumble an apology? Or will he, by some miracle, stand his ground? He's so very curious.]
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