TDM 05

[goldmods]

【 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

A cool breeze lofts across the room. Gentle, soothing. Cotton sheets and silken covers slip with the tired stretch of limbs. New arrivals dozing in the comfort of their king-sized beds wake to the balmy warmth of a hazy sun and the rhythmic lap of waves on the shore. Clouds mist around the floor, granting ethereal ambiance. Gauzy curtains flutter, revealing a majestic stretch of sky in all directions. This temple is nestled at the top of a mountain, one where the sea somehow meets its edge.

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.

MARK OF THE GODS

None of the traditional suits have manifested on these Wildcards. Instead, all new arrivals will discover intricate patterns winding their arms and legs, each one different from the next. Thorns, vines, stars, or moons — the commonality of these marks is that they come in either glittering gold or shimmering silver.

► BENEVOLENT DIVINE: Those with marks of gold running along their skin have been identified as benevolent deities. The powers that be have sensed the kind spirit within. All benevolent Wildcards may experience the effects of any RED SUITS over the course of the next two weeks.

► MALEVOLENT DIVINE: Those with marks of silver running along their skin have been identified as malevolent deities. The powers that be have sensed the muck that lurks beneath the surface. All malevolent deities may experience the effects of any BLACK SUITS over the course of the next two weeks.

MADDENING HUNGER

Itchy throat, dry mouth. Headache. Hungry. It comes on slow, at first nothing of note. But, surely, it begins to deepen. Grapes don't feel filling. Water barely quenches thirst. All new arrivals will wake up in a state of hunger. They will find that despite the complimentary snacks left in their room by room service, nothing hits the spot.

No matter how much food they eat, these new arrivals, who have been dubbed as divines, won't find any satiation from food or wine. This gnawing hunger is exhausting; as it increases, their strength decreases. They cannot continue on like this for long.

All Wildcards, regardless of divine differentiation, will need to be worshipped for sustenance. Otherwise, they risk falling into a frenzied state.

There are many ways they can be worshipped. While having their bodies worshiped through sex is the most effective, they can find minor relief in acts of praise, affection, offerings, service, and so on. The longer a Wildcard goes without being worshiped, the more their god mark will leech their energy, and the faster they will lose their sanity. Loss of sanity can result in any kind of frenzy, from general mania to breaking from reality.

GILDED CAGE

AN ENDLESS FEAST

Doors to the grand banquet hall of Gilded Cage have been opened. A singular massive table stretches throughout the entirety of the restaurant, every available inch loaded with trays of food and goblets of wine. Waiters seamlessly dip in and out of the kitchens with platters over their shoulders, bringing delectable cuisine from all avenues of every earth around for guests to enjoy. Vibrant fruits, roasted meats, and decadent desserts funnel into the hall without end.

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.

ROYALS

► Royal cards are King, Queen, and Jack ranks. All ranks beneath them must comply with their demands, no matter how whimsical or stupid. They are waited on hand and foot, with low ranks throwing themselves forward for the honor of pleasing them. Royals do not need to obey the commands of anyone aside from Wildcards. While it is good manners for a lower royal card to defer to a higher royal card they will not be punished if they decline.

► Royal cards are encouraged to eat, drink, and be merry. Be selfish! Be greedy! Take everything you want! There is no end to the pampering and indulgence offered to royals. Long-standing guests line up to flatter them and give them gifts. Resort staff are desperate to make them laugh or smile. A royal card frowning strikes terror every servant. Resort staff will insist that they seek their own pleasures and not worry about the feelings of those lowly cards. All numbered cards exist to satisfy the royals; being concerned about their peasant feelings is unnecessary.

► Royals can command any numbered rank. If they find a numbered rank they particularly like they may monopolize them for their exclusive use. The word no does not exist. Whatever a royal wants, a royal gets. They can also issue punishments to numbered ranks that do not please them. There are guards prepared to discipline servants at their command. They may also dominate unruly servants with their own hands if that pleases them.

SERVANTS

► Servant cards are ranks A - 10. Hierarchy exists within the servants as well. While a rank 10 servant must flatter and please the royals, they may issue orders to any servant rank beneath them. This continues down the line — a rank 6 servant must obey and adore any rank above them but may command and bully any rank below them.

► The Ace rank shows its fickle nature. All Ace cards are bottom-barrel servants sitting at Rank 1 that anyone can bully. They are automatically ordered to clean up trash, scrub sticky floors, and dance provocatively for any rank that demands a show.

► Servants must obey anyone that outranks them. There are guards standing along the walls waiting to discipline any servant that defies the hierarchy. However, the guards are mostly for show — suits enforce real compliance. Any servant that disobeys an individual who outranks them is at risk of their suit flaring. If their suit does flare, submitting and obeying or an orgasm can abate suit effects.

WILDCARDS

► Wildcards are akin to deities. There is no greater honor than to serve or possess a Wildcard. Royals want to own them and servants want to please them. All Wildcards are showered with endless adoration. Fights break out for the chance to feed them grapes or rub their calves. Wildcards may do whatever they want without consequences, even toward royal ranks.

► Wildcards are encouraged to indulge in the finest of everything. Servants must tend to them and obey their commands. While royals do not need to obey them, there is great prestige in claiming a Wildcard’s affection. Wildcards are encouraged to be selfish and enjoy themselves to the fullest.

► Any royal or servant that satisfies a Wildcard can collect a Wildcard token. This is an electronic token that appears in their bank account once a Wildcard has climaxed during sex. Physically pleasing two Wildcards bring about great blessings. Players may submit two Wildcard tokens under their rewards thread to collect a small item voucher.

PHOENIX CASINO

ALEA IACTA EST

Phoenix Casino has been reborn in antiquity. Stone pillars line the aisles and embroidered linens cast a gauzy filter over every corner of the gambling center. The number of statues has increased, with every corner decorated with marble figures in provocative poses. The feast continues into even here; scantily clad servants and waiters carry around platters of succulent fruits and pitchers of wine.

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.

WILDCARD AUCTION

► All shiny new Wildcards have a unique number pinned to their robes. Early in the night these nubile virgin Wildcards will be paraded across the stage and asked to introduce themselves to the crowd. After, the bidding will commence. Don't miss this opportunity to claim a resort virgin and beloved divine!

► Bidding for a Wildcard can get intense! Numerous long-standing guests are already obsessed with these stunning new arrivals and are quick to bid high. Bidding wars can break out at any time. Some very eager long-standing guests are willing to get violent if it means they get to monopolize one of these Wildcards. Security is on stand-by for cases of Wildcard theft; some guests are so desperate for these Wildcards that they'll even try to kidnap them if they see the chance.

► The hierarchy is temporarily set aside for auction purchases. Any rank can dominate a Wildcard if they have the means to bid high enough and buy. In the case of Wildcard purchases, their god marks will force compliance to whoever buys them during the auction.

CASTING LOTS

► This special game of lots is designed for a high rank and a low rank to play together. In the case of guests of the same rank playing together, a coin flip will decide who plays the "low" rank for this game.

► The high rank guest will roll a six-sided die. The number rolled will reflect the game rule by which the low rank guest must try to satisfy the high rank guest. If the low rank guest manages to satisfy the high rank guest they will receive a large payout. If the high rank guest is not satisfied they may discipline the low-rank guest in any way they see fit.

ONE: Without using hands.

TWO: Using only mouth.

THREE: While blindfolded.

FOUR: Using only butt cheeks.

FIVE: Using only legs.

SIX: While remaining on knees.

► The high rank decides if and when they have been satisfied. Work hard, low rank!

HEADS OR TAILS

► What's a casino without a bit of risk? There's a special game of Heads or Tails happening at the game tables. All guests must bet their rank in order to play. Winners of the game will have the option to either swap ranks with the loser, or keep their rank as is and move on to another game. With a little bit of luck, even a Rank 2 can experience living the high life.

► All rank swaps are temporary. Winners that choose to swap ranks with the loser of their game will have 24 hours with their new rank before they revert back to normal. They may continue playing on with their "new" rank if they want to test their luck.

► Heads or Tails is played with a physical Golden Peacock coin. Players will take turns as the coin flipper, with their opponent guessing if the outcome will be heads or tails. The first guest to reach three correct guesses is the winner.

BEAK

ENTERTAIN YOUR BETTERS

A massive circular arena has been erected in the middle of Beak. Staggered seats rise up to the ceiling, where royals lounge in luxury viewing boxes. The gaping mouth of the arena is wide and desolate. An assortment of weapons, such as spears and shields, hang along stone walls. It waits for the taste of blood and stench of battle. The sound of the audience cheering and booing echoes throughout the Wellness Quarter.

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.

BATTLE ROYALE

► Numbered ranks have been conscripted into battle for the amusement of the Wildcards and royals. While high ranked servants may be able to wiggle their way out of a fight, low ranked servants will be thrown into the arena without mercy. Warriors that win their battles will be showered in accolades and payouts while losers will be mocked and pelted with rotten tomatoes. Warriors that try to forfeit their match will be stripped naked, strung up on a pole, and mocked for 24 hours.

► Battle rules are simple. Any means and methods of fighting are acceptable when in the arena. The arena’s overseer will decide if a battle will end when first blood is drawn or if it will continue until one side can no longer continue. There are rare instances of battle to the death, typically reserved for warriors who have deeply offended a Wildcard or royal.

► Royals and Wildcards are welcome to join in the royale if they wish. They will not be forced and they will be given any armor they want before stepping into the arena. Low rank warriors are given no armor — some may even be forced to fight nude.

SUBDUE THE BEAST

► Any numbered ranks that have displeased a Wildcard or royal will be thrown into the arena to fight barehanded against hungry tigers and lions. If there are no troublemakers on hand to throw into the arena for entertainment, low rank servants will be forcibly volunteered instead.

► Those alleged hungry tigers and lions? They are other servants dressed up in sexy animal costumes. While staff will take genuine volunteers for this role first, they will forcibly volunteer low rank servants into the role if needed. All costumes are revealing and offer little protection. There is an assortment of looks to choose from, not just tigers and lions, though whether or not a servant gets to pick their outfit depends on how charitable the arena master is feeling.

► Matches will end when one party can no longer continue or the audience is sufficiently amused. Royals and Wildcards are permitted to partake if they please, and there will be no consequences if they decide to withdraw.

RACE TRACK

► Royals and Wildcards are invited to participate in horse racing. Only, there are no horses to be found — all the “horses” are servants! Any chosen servant must carry their master over the finish line. While piggyback rides may make the most sense for a race like this, many of the high class prefer more elegant positions, so anything goes. Horses are required to wear a bridle at all times during the race.

Servants are also allowed to participate as jockeys as long as they observe the hierarchy. Servants may ride any servant of a lower rank. Aces are ordered to walk around with a poop shovel and bag, even if there won’t be any real horse poop lining the track (probably).

► Royals and Wildcards are also invited to participate in private horse racing. These races involve no track, taking place in the back of Beak in private rooms furnished with cushions and silks. Like with the public races, royals and Wildcards may select any servant that catches their eye. Unlike the public races, the goal here is to make their ‘horse’ orgasm as quickly as possible. Times will be saved on their Watches. The faster a master makes their horse come the more bragging rights they have.

Servants are once again allowed to participate as jockeys as long as they observe the hierarchy. The higher ranked servant must make the lower ranked servant orgasm as quickly as they can. While the ‘horse’ may offer mutual comfort they will receive no accolades for their skills.

TALON

SHOW OF STRENGTH

Talon is bustling with warriors training for the arena. Several strength building stations have been set up, including benches for royals to perch on while warriors bench press them. Additions have been made to Talon as well; multiple mud pits have been dug for warriors to participate in some mud wrestling between arena battles.

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.

MUSCLE CONTEST

► Who can appeal to the royals and Wildcards most? It’s a competition based on aesthetics! Strip down, oil up, and flex your muscles to earn a high score from the judges. Royals and Wildcards may issue a score between 1 to 10, with 10 being the highest.

Wildcards and royals are welcome to join in the competition. For some reason, their scores always end up being 10 no matter how skinny or noodly they may be! The flattery and praise for their stunning looks and bodies is endless. No need to work out, my lord, my lady. You’re stunning as is! Truly no body is more perfect!

► Servants are not only allowed, but encouraged, to bribe royals and Wildcards into giving them a high score. While chips and gifts can certainly be offered, isn’t the most compelling argument some hands on experience? Staff will hint to competing warriors that offering sexual favors to the judges may help improve their scores. What better way to prove their physique is the most superior than to put it to work?

► Royals and Wildcards may purchase warriors for their exclusive entertainment if they so desire. Staff are eager to impress these nobles and make a pretty penny in the process. While this isn’t an official auction, these sneaky staff aren’t above making sure the elite and their requested warrior are left alone in a locked room. You grease my palms, I’ll make sure that sexy warrior greases yours.

WRESTLING MATCHES

► Guests will find that a deep mud pit has been added to the front hub of Talon. Servants are stripped and oiled down before being thrown into the pit to wrestle for the entertainment of the nobles. While staff will take volunteers for wrestling matches, they will also grab whoever looks good, even if they’re just passing by! On-lookers place bets during the matches. The winner of the match will receive a small cut of the prize money.

► Wildcards and royals may enter as well. Servants are expected to throw their matches if they’re facing a noble… and if they don’t, they may be facing some unexpected consequences! All suits are sensitive to the hierarchy and will suddenly flare if a servant starts thrashing a noble.

► During a match-up of nobles, it is expected that the lower ranked noble will throw the match in favor of the higher ranked noble. While royal suits will not flare if this isn’t adhered to, discipline between royals isn’t unheard of!

► Some matches are held under “Special House Rules” — which means that the winner of the match gets to claim and fuck the loser. On-lookers will jeer and demand that the winner publicly fuck the loser where they can watch, but private rooms are available for the winner to claim their spoils of war without sharing.

WAYWARD ARROWS

► An archery range with targets has been established for warriors to show off their shooting skills. Like the arena, there are benches and boxes for the audience to admire this graceful art — or to throw tomatoes from when a warrior misses the mark! Both servants and nobles are welcome to participate as archers.

► Servants have been conscripted to act as moving targets across the range. They are told to heckle the archers while avoiding their arrows, and only advised that the arrows won’t pierce their bodies if they get hit. It’s all fun and games. We can’t have all of our servants dying en masse!

During this portion of the games, archers will be given an assortment of charmed arrows with chalk tips that elicit different effects:

RED ARROW: Chalk powder from red arrows will trigger an intense need for physical release by grinding, humping, or frotting.

BLUE ARROW: Chalk powder from blue arrows is pure aphrodisiac. Inhaling this powder will cause close spike to near-orgasm, one that the target will find that cannot be completed by their own hand.

GREEN ARROW: Chalk powder from green arrows will stir neediness. The hit target will suffer cravings to be sticky and hug, climb, and generally latch on to another person.

PURPLE ARROW: Chalk powder from purple arrows will cause a bad case of loose lips. This may manifest in a compulsion to loudly speak in pretentious purple prose, dirty talk, or say otherwise hilarious things for the amusement of the audience.

► Effects from the arrows will wear off within the hour. Multiple hits from differently colored arrows can create fun new effects so feel free to get creative!

INDULGENCE

DESIRES FROM THE VOID

The spirit of the festivities rouses something primal. With emotions heightened, the core of the Golden Peacock responds in kind. It drinks in the sweat of the warriors in the arena. Inhales the laughter of the royals using servants as furniture. Basks in the brilliant glow of fresh Wildcards. The portraits in the elevators are rowdier than usual and the chandeliers lining the hallways gleam with new vibrance. Energy is palpable.

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.

GALATEA

► Statues around the resort begin to stir. First it’s with a hazy blink, moving to the slow creak of their stiff mouths. Eventually they break off of their pedestals and out of their poses before clumsily making their way down the hallways, stone feet an emphasized thump with every step. They tremble, their cold stone bodies aching for warmth and human embrace.

► Statues around the resort have begun trying to kidnap guests for themselves. Once they’ve spotted a guest they want, they will stop at nothing to try and drag them back to their pedestal to spend forever locked in love’s embrace with them. They do not need food, drink, or rest.

► There are two ways to put a statue to rest. One is to engage the statue in battle and break off its head. Once the head is broken off, it will cease to have a spirit and crumble to dust. The second is to involve the statue in a physical act of intimacy — have a threesome with it! Or twosome, if someone is willing to watch. In the case of the second, statues will return to their pedestals satisfied upon completion.

► Statues that end up destroyed may drop a small lore hint. They will wheeze as their stone begins to disintegrate, their stone eyes dripping liquid gold tears. “I just wanted to feel alive again… I wanted to feel like you again… to be whole,” will slip past their marble lips before they crumble away.

NARCISSUS

► Gaze into the water. Admire your pretty face, the curve of your lips, the squint of your eyes... wait, are you winking at yourself?! Over the next few weeks, water-based reflections will begin acting of their own free will. They have the ability to move within the scope of the water and speak, their voices muddled but understandable.

► These reflections are extremely flirtatious and charming. They smile and bat their lashes, pretending to be innocent while drawing the original owner in closer. How about a smooch? How about more than a smooch? Their whispered promises are sweet. Salacious. Loving. Anything to get closer to you. Leaning in too close to the water is dangerous — these reflections will reach out and try to drag unsuspecting guests in. Whether this is out of malice or affection is unclear, but how can they possibly make love to you unless you join them in the water?

► Once caught, it is challenging to escape from their phantom limbs in the water alone. Several long-standing guests need to be saved from The Nest’s decorative fountain because they keep coming close to drowning after trying to kiss their reflections. Unfortunately, not every location with water is as prepared to save unsuspecting would-be lovers. No body of water is safe — not even a cup of it!

► Reflections will become increasingly indignant if they're ignored. Their sweet words will take a sharp turn into insults similar to, "I'm the better looking one between us anyway!" They may also let slip some personal secrets like, "This is why Johnny will never love you back! You're so cold, ignoring even yourself!"

Any mention of the fact that they'll end up drowning the character in question will earn a scoff and another small lore hint along the lines of, "Why are you being such a baby? Only the resort can really kill you anyhow. It's not like you'll die forever if I fuck you in here for a while!"

PANDORA’S BOX

► A spider's web threads through the resort. Invisible, but audible to those that are willing to listen. One of the Punishment Rooms on the maintenance levels is unlocked. Without the padlock on the door to keep them silent, silvery whispers drift up from the basement. A brush of thought, a tickle of an idea that won't quite go away — come down… come down and see… what is inside… don't you want to know?

► Those that heed the call and explore the maintenance levels will find the unlocked Punishment Room. The closer one comes to this door, the stronger these voices grow. They will continue calling, eagerly encouraging whoever stops in front of the door to step inside.

► The inside of this Punishment Room is plain. White walls, a single card table, and two plastic chairs. A single lightbulb offers a dusty glow. There is nothing particularly interesting upon first glance. Slowly, the door behind will creak closed until it is closed, locking itself in the process. That small lightbulb will begin to dim until everything inside the room is plunged into darkness.

► This Punishment Room senses the worst memories and fears of one of the captives inside and forces them to experience them in real time. The manifestation of memories or fears inside this room are realistic, to the point that it's impossible to discern whether or not this takes place in reality or the mind. The Punishment Room will randomly select which prisoner to dig from if there is more than one, but all guests inside will experience the room's effects.

► The door cannot be unlocked from the inside. Someone must either open it from the outside or captives must wait until the punishment is over and the door unlocks itself. How long that takes is random, ranging from a few minutes to a few hours. That’s what you get for listening to disembodied voices!

OOC NOTES

INVITES | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

▶ 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! ♥

NAVIGATION • LOG • NETWORK • OOC • MEME

Comments

[the_roman]

[ Ross' eyes flit over the length of Sylus' body as he stretches out, before he can get himself focused on the other man's face. His height, the breadth of his shoulders, the easy grace, make him undeniably attractive; the smirk hovering around his mouth, to Ross' annoyance, only adds to the effect.

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?

[statuscrow]

[Sylus notices Ross's gaze flick over him, taking in the details with a mix of intrigue and something else that Sylus recognizes all too well. It's almost too easy, the way desire can be intertwined with resentment, how loathing can breed longing. He’s seen it before—hell, he’s played with it before. And the idea of this gold-marked Wildcard grappling with whatever repressed desire he’s carrying? It’s almost amusing.

He lets the silence stretch, savouring the tension between them like a fine wine. It’s always the reluctant ones, the ones who think they’re above it all. The ones who refuse to indulge are often the ones who end up craving it the most.

When Ross finally speaks, Sylus’s smirk widens. The words are tart, biting, but there’s something beneath them—something fragile. The alternative might be too dangerous, too revealing. Sylus leans into that, enjoying the game for what it is.]

How noble of you. [A mockery? Perhaps. Knowing well of the disdain of being a 1 percenter and not hiding it for the sake of the so-called ideal of "humility"? Most definitely. He pauses, letting his red eyes—those predatory eyes that have seen so much—linger on Ross’s face. He actually seems amused. Who doesn't love a bit of rebellion in the morning?] Are you sure you should say your plans out loud?

[the_roman]

[ The feeling of being regarded, weighed, and found worth condescension is all too familiar. It fits so perfectly with the rest of the scene he could almost dismiss it as scripted.

It has its desired effect, though. His eyes -- dark, even, glinting brown -- sharpen as they meet Sylus'. "How noble of you" is bait. He needs to resist the urge to take it, needs to play his own part right, if he's going to get what he wants.

And what he wants is ... what? He's not even sure. He just saw the servants eddying around this man, who's so obviously reveling in a divine status he surely did nothing to earn, and Ross had to say something. Had to remind the man he's still just a man, whatever the silver tattoos on his arms might say. ]

My plans to what? Find the people who run this place and demand better treatment for their workers? [ He shrugs at the obvious ridiculousness of that. ] I'm sure the thought will have them quaking.

[statuscrow]

[The smirk deepens when Ross's dark eyes sharpen, catching the subtle shift in his demeanor. There it is—that flicker of resistance, of defiance. It’s the reaction Sylus was hoping for, the one that makes the game all the more interesting.

He tilts his head slightly as if considering Ross’s words, though the amusement in his red eyes never fades. Letting the words roll off his tongue with such nonchalance it's almost dismissable. Yet again. Almost.] How... predictable. And here I thought you might surprise me.

[There’s a pause, a deliberate stretch of silence as Sylus lets his gaze drift over Ross once more. The dark, glinting brown of his eyes, the way he holds himself like someone who’s used to fighting battles no one else sees. He waves a hand as he crosses his ankles, leaving room for him on the foot of the day bed.] Here. [He just his chin towards the emptied spot. There's no reason why Ross should be standing, and in the sunlight like that, to boot.

Mixed signals much???]

[the_roman]

That's funny. You're living down to every one of my expectations.

[ Right down to offering the barest form of charity. The rest of the resort may see Ross as a god, for the moment, but Sylus has clearly seen past that and slotted Ross in where he belongs: below him. ]

Please, [ he adds, that acid back in his tone, and turns to leave. ] Don't put yourself out on my account.

[statuscrow]

[Almost as though they were already there, non-tangible black and red stripes wrap around Alan's thighs, waist, arms. And with a gentle, but decisive, tug, he's found exactly where Sylus had let a spot free by his feet to sit.

He looks at him so innocently, silver eyebrows arched, red eyes softened (no one is fooled).] Says who? Tsk, tsk. Seems like you're the one filled with assumptions.

[the_roman]

[ Something not himself moves him. Ross' heart leaps in alarm, suddenly pounding at his ribs like a runaway horse. His left hand snaps closed into a fist and he draws it close to him without thinking -- not like he's going to punch Sylus, but like he's protecting it.

(Two tries, it took, for Morris' compulsion rune to work on Alan and force him to stab his own hand. And then two tries it had taken for Alan to stab the man to death. Funny how that worked out.) ]

[ Furiously -- because fury is safer than nauseating panic: ] What the fuck was that?

[statuscrow]

[Sylus’s gaze flickers down to his wine glass, studying the way the light catches in the cool clear liquid as if it holds more interest than the man now sitting at his feet. He swirls the glass lazily, the movement almost hypnotic, before taking a slow sip. The taste is subtle, complex, actually delightful; nothing compared to the satisfaction of watching Ross’s reaction.

He lets Ross’s sputtering question remain unanswered for a second, seemingly unbothered by the sudden burst of fury. And decides to still not answer it.]

What was what? [His voice mild, almost bored, as if the answer is of no consequence to him. His red eyes remain fixed on the wine glass, but he doesn’t miss the way Ross’s left hand has clenched into a tight fist, drawn close as if shielding something.

That’s interesting. The left hand—an unconscious movement, perhaps, but one that reveals more than he likely intends. Sylus files it away. He’s used to assessing worth without needing to glance at a price tag, and this clenched fist is just another tax to the whole worth.]

What did you think just happened?

[the_roman]

[ Words are swirling through Ross' head, many of them four-lettered, some Italian. A righteously angry hero's speech about men like you -- a back-alley taunt of try that again. None of those seem right for the moment. People like this want to provoke that defiant reaction out of you.

Before he answers, he moves his legs to make sure that he can. Presumably standing up will just get him dragged back here by whatever power this lordly prick has, so he stays seated. ]

I see you're going to fit right in here.

[ Very much not an answer to the question, but it's not like Sylus answered Ross'. Tit for tat. Though his voice is still taut with anger, he has himself under better control now. ]

What do you plan to do if you get shuffled to the bottom of the pack? Ingratiate yourself with your betters-- [ Heavily ironic use of the phrase. ] --by hauling them around like puppies?

[statuscrow]

[Sylus arches an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of amusement playing across his features.]

"Puppy?" [he echoes, letting the word hang in the air for a moment before chuckling softly. The sound is low, almost dangerous as if he’s genuinely entertained by the idea.] Is that what I should be calling you?

[He finally shifts his gaze from the wine glass to Ross, the smirk on his lips widening as he takes in the barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. Sylus takes another sip of his wine, savoring it, before setting the glass down on a nearby table with deliberate care.]

All I did was ask for a good glass of wine, [Sylus says, his tone still light, almost teasing. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as he regards Ross with a look of mock curiosity, one hand coming to rest against his tilted head, a finger tapping onto his temple absently.] You think I belong with those who fear the idea of falling from grace.

[It's not a question. His eyes narrow slightly, the red in them gleaming.] I’m not afraid of being considered the lowest of the low. Now, if you think that would make me helpless, well. I suppose I can't place every card I have on the table.

[the_roman]

[ The card motif is going to get into all of them, he can see.

Ross snorts. He doesn't believe that Sylus would simply accept being at the bottom of the heap, not for a second, but there's little point in trying to fight a stranger on what they think of themselves. ]

Are you hoping to see if I'll bite?

[statuscrow]

[Clearly amused by Ross’s retort, he tilts his head slightly, the amusement in his eyes deepening as he considers the man before him.]

Bite? [Sylus muses, letting the word roll off his tongue with a hint of playfulness.] Well, puppy, you’ve already shown me you can bark.

[the_roman]

[ Alan would like to blame the way his stomach tightens at that tone on the resort's influence. Whatever magic this place has, he can't perturb it like he might be able to at home. Surely that has something to do with it.

But the memory of his first night with Jack is part of it, too. You've a very good bark, your lordship. The way he'd bitten his lordship's thumb when he pushed it into Alan's mouth. He and Jack have had plenty of times together since then, but that time in his study had been something else -- and now he's so far away from that. Far away with nothing but his memories, and a gnawing, insatiable hunger, and this pale faux-god who reminds him of the man he misses. ]

Put something in my mouth and you'll find out, won't you.

[statuscrow]

[His eyebrows shoot up, genuinely surprised by Ross’s boldness. Wrapped in aggression as it is, he did not expect such a direct response, especially not from someone who had seemed so stubborn and self-resistant just moments ago. It’s enough to make him pause, his amusement momentarily replaced by curiosity, but not shock—he can't afford to. This place has its hooks in both of them, pulling at their deepest desires, their most hidden cravings. He can feel it too, the way his own core thrums with a need for something—anything.

Sylus has lived with longing for a long, long time. He’s mastered the art of controlling it, of bending it to his will, rather than letting it control him. Rather, using others' to his advantage. Still, he did not plan on using this man's latent libido, and while animosity tends to fuel it, he saves that for… special occasions.

Yet there’s something about Ross’s unexpected offer that stirs a flicker of something in him. Not quite temptation, but close enough to make him consider it.

He reaches for a grape, plucking it from a dish set on a support table beside him, and crunches in between his teeth, thoughtfully. Of course, it leaves him unsatisfied, but he has been, for a long time.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head.] Biting on gold to see if it’s real is no longer an accepted practice, [Sylus says, his voice light with a teasing edge.] There are so many more productive ways to go about it.

[the_roman]

[ A hit, finally. Ross takes a petty pleasure in seeing actual surprise on Sylus' face, and to his own surprise, he barks a ha! of laughter. ]

Gold, are you. You arrogant, overfed prick.

[ Reaching out, leaning in, he flicks a finger against the silver marks on Sylus' arm. ]

I don't need to bite you to know you're about as real as a tin suit of armor.

[statuscrow]

[Sylus watches the flicker of triumph in Ross’s eyes, the bark of laughter that escapes him. It’s a sound that resonates with something deep within Sylus, something that enjoys pushing buttons and watching the results. He doesn’t flinch when Ross flicks a finger against the silver marks on his arm, the touch almost dismissive, as if Ross is trying to prove a point.

But Sylus’s smirk only grows wider, more amused than ever. He chuckles, laughs, even. His head cants sideways, considering Ross with a gaze that’s both appraising and teasing.] Ah, I see now, [he murmurs, velvet low laced with a mocking curiosity.] I think this little game excites you more than you’d like to admit. …it gets your blood pumping, doesn’t it?

[Sylus’s gaze sharpens, the red in his eyes gleaming as he leans in slightly, closing some of the distance between them.] What is this about? Searching for something that makes you feel alive?

[Oh, he's been there.]

[the_roman]

[ Again, he's reminded of Jack, this time with a pulse of blood that he could wish wasn't quite so strong. Being seen with a clarity that feels as rough and revealing as sandpaper on wood. Bodies pulling inexorably closer.

This man isn't Jack, he reminds himself. He doesn't even know the arsehole's name. He doesn't know if he can be trusted to stop when Alan means stop, or if he even wants to fuck Alan the way Alan wants to be fucked at all.

Although he feels like he could make a pretty good guess to that last one.

His hand curls around Sylus' forearm, almost without his own notice, and he leans in further as well. When he speaks, his voice is low. ]

What makes you think I would tell a lordly little shit like you something like that?

[statuscrow]

[Sylus watches Ross’s hand curl around his forearm, feels the heat of it seeping through his skin. Through his right eye, he could use his Evol and see it clearly—the true want simmering beneath Ross’s anger, a fierce, burning desire that propels him forward like a comet on a collision course. A pull that he recognizes all too well, a need that’s drawn by gravity or perhaps something darker, something heavier, heftier.

But even without his power, Sylus can sense it: anger, frustration, the barely contained rage that isn’t entirely directed at him, but at someone who isn’t here. And perhaps, in this moment, Sylus is the next best thing.

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over Ross’s cheek as he speaks.] Sometimes the act of asking is a small mercy. Your actions already tell me all I need to know.

[A slight tilt of his head as his red eyes bore into Ross’, unflinching.] After all, I may be a ‘lordly little shit,’ but you haven’t truly made to run away yet.

[the_roman]

[ This close, he can't hide his shiver when Sylus' breath brushes his cheek, nor the way his fingers flex on Sylus' arm. Fuck. ]

You made your stance on my leaving abundantly clear.

[ Inhale: the wine on his breath. Exhale: heat. ]

You're not being merciful. You'll try to make me squirm no matter what I say.

[statuscrow]

[He scoffs softly, the sound low and derisive, as he lifts a hand and brushes the underside of Ross’s chin with a single knuckle. The touch is light, almost teasing, but there’s an undeniable edge to it.]

Squirm? [Sylus murmurs, his voice smooth as silk.] I’m not trying to make you squirm.

[He leans in just a fraction closer, his knuckle still resting against Ross’s chin, holding him in place with nothing more than a whisper of contact. His right red eye gleams something darker, something predatory.] I’m succeeding.

[the_roman]

[ Such a small touch. Alan feels a hot rush, from the top of his head right down though his belly and thighs and tips of his fingers. His lips are parted, dry. ]

Fuck you.

[ He doesn't pull back. In fact, his chin raises -- just a little, a fraction, the smallest hint of throat-baring. ]

[statuscrow]

[So this is what it looks like to bleed in shark-infested waters.

Dark red notes every flicker of emotion that crosses his face—parted lips, chin taut, the glimpse of thin skin thrumming with a heartbeat underneath venom in his throat. He can almost hear how his breath catches in his throat, and it’s enough to make his own pulse quicken.

Slowly, deliberately, Sylus bows his head, closing the space between them until his nose brushes against the sensitive spot where Ross’s jaw meets his neck. He inhales deeply, drawing in the scent of Ross’s skin, a mix of heat and something that finally seems to sate whatever he has been trying to fill with food and drink and luxury treatment.]

Is that really what you want? [Sylus murmurs, his voice dark against Ross’s neck. Ross’s pulse beats wildly near Sylus’s lips, and he licks them anticipatingly. And yet Sylus doesn’t move, doesn’t pull back, letting the heat coil around them, smoldering fire that threatens to ignite at any moment. He wants to hear Ross say it, to hear the words spill from his lips, to break through the walls of defiance and let the truth come pouring out.] Yes, no… maybe so?

[A singsong as he nudges his jaw with his nose. He should be less of an asshole about it.]

[the_roman]

[ Ross might have gone for a snake and a bird, or a stag and a wolf, but the exact animal imagery isn't exactly at the forefront of his mind right now.

He feels frozen in place, every bang of his heart against his sternum throbbing with anger and desire. If anyone asked him to describe this visually later, he'd be at a loss; his eyes are open, but all he's focused on is the taunts in his ears and the heat of this man's body. He's just skin. Nerves. A vessel for a heartbeat.

Then Sylus' nose brushes along his jaw, and Ross finds himself moving without thinking. He shoves Sylus in the chest, putting space between them -- then immediately closes it, climbing into Sylus' lap and wrapping a hand into Sylus' collar. ]

Is this what you want?

[ Now he's seeing again, tracking those red eyes and smirking lips. His own eyes seem like they're all pupil. Under the stupid faux-Roman finery he's wearing, his cock throbs. ]

You want a bastard that'll bite back? [ Ross' fingers tighten around Sylus' collar. ] If you want to make me squirm, make me. Make me.

[statuscrow]

[Smirk widening as Ross shoves him, he can feel Ross’s fingers twist into his collar, pulling him close, demanding his attention. Sylus is momentarily surprised by the intensity, by the fire in Ross’s eyes—dark and wide, pupils blown. It’s a look he knows well, one that speaks of desperation and defiance, of a need so raw it borders on painful.

And one he vastly admires.

He feels Ross’s grip tighten around his collar, feels the heat of his breath against his skin, but Sylus doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t really like hands near his head—too many memories, too many risks—but he won’t share his idiosyncracies so easily with someone he just knew. He'll let Ross have this small victory.

Low and almost pleading words navigate with anger and make Sylus arch an eyebrow. To bite back, to fight for control, to push and be pushed in return. Sylus can’t help but chuckle, the sound a deep rumble in his chest.]

Why wouldn't I? [His hands move, wide and deliberate, splaying over Ross’s thighs, fingers slipping beneath the edges of the robes, feeling the heat of skin against his palms. Sylus’ touch is firm, thumbs brushing against the sensitive flesh as he grips Ross’s thighs, holding him in place.] But… here you are, practically begging for me to take control.

[A sudden, fluid motion; the grip on his thighs tightens, and he tugs hard, pulling him even closer to press their bodies flush. The heat between them is almost unbearable, a smoldering fire that threatens to consume them both.] Well? Show me your teeth.

[the_roman]

[ Ross' thighs tighten under Sylus' palms. He tends more towards skinny than muscular, but he's filled out a bit in the last few months of better pay and better food. Plenty to grab when Sylus yanks him forward.

He sucks in a harsh breath, which goes out in a rush when his erection grinds against Sylus' belly. The robe bunches between them before falling back, exposing the head of his cock, and the feeling of air on his tip combines with the mockery to shock Ross into movement.

He rears back and slaps Sylus.

As soon as it happens, he freezes, looking startled. It's sort of the look of a dog that ripped apart a toy while roughhousing with his master: eyes wide, metaphorical ears back, unsure whether to wag his tail or tuck it between his legs. Has this gone too far? Is it still a game? Was it ever? Is it a fight? Was it always both? ]