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peacockstop2024-10-15 09:00 pm
TDM 06
【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
On behalf of the house and resort, we would like to advise all Game 52 players to exercise caution around the Golden Peacock for the next few weeks. The veil between 'what is' and 'what has been' grows thin and the threads of fate have tangled in unexpected ways. We are currently observing how these two phenomena behave when they occur simultaneously and act in concert.
We advise that all guests monitor their physical states until the veil thickens once again and the threads of fate return to running parallel. If you find yourself undergoing any strange transformations, please report to the Broken Wing clinic for observation. We will do our utmost to make sure you are comfortable during this time.
You may also notice other strange phenomena around the Golden Peacock while the veil is thin. Please continue to exercise caution. New wayward spirits have joined us during this time. While spirits are crossing, it is possible for guests to get swept along into the ghostly realm.
As always, please let us know if there is anything we can do to improve your stay. 】
HEADS
TAILS
MAIN LOBBY
BACK HALLWAYS & STAIRS
MONSTER MASH
THE VALE
SMOKED EGG
BALANCE RETURNS
OOC NOTES
▶ 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 October event. Changes to the above locations will ICly be present from October 15th - November 3rd. All supernatural phenomenon will increase in strength over time, culminating in peak activity on All Hallows' Eve. The days following Halloween will relax, leading into eventual normalcy. Some locations are spared the supernatural frenzy, so players can play as normal if they wish to avoid these tropes/prompts. Players may assume that the supernatural come and go in the above specifically incorporated locations.
▶ 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!
▶ We ask you to kindly add content warnings to your threads as appropriate. This TDM in particular has the potential to get real wild, so we want to emphasize this request!
▶ 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.
▶ Go forth and let your freak flag fly!
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"...I'm not sure," he confesses. "I heard that magic is whatever normal people can't do. It's all very mysterious, isn't it?"
Pinocchio tastes the treat. It's not too sweet, which seems strange to him for a dessert. As the recipe is Chinese, turns out this is exactly how sweet it's supposed to be. But it's not biscotti, he's probably not supposed to be dipping it into his tea like he is (and losing half of the crumbly treat into his drink in the process).
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He’s not going to be disapproving of Pinocchio’s eating habits anytime soon. Far be it for him to discourage someone else from experimenting with something new, after all. And Baizhu, for his part, takes his own cookie and gently lifts the almond embedded therein, holding it up to Pinocchio as he lets another surge of elemental power flow into it.
The almond swells, buds. Sprouts into a lovely pale blossom, while Baizhu casually takes a bite out of the remains of his own cookie.
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Pinocchio again reaches out, stroking its pale blossom with a metal fingertip. While he investigates, he gives his thoughts.
"You give life," he observes, "Can you give anything life?"
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Pinocchio's not wrong, though. In fact, he might be closer to the truth of Baizhu's powers than he realizes.
"But I'm afraid there are caveats to this power."
He glances over to Pinocchio's fascinating mechanical arm, before giving him an apologetic look.
"Most of my regenerative powers are restricted to nature. While I can heal some flesh-and-blood wounds, I cannot grow a new limb for you."
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"No," Pinocchio says quietly, lowering it into his lap, "I suppose that's impossible."
There's more he could say, shapeless and opaque behind his silence. His doubts about the efficacy of life magic on something that's always been a mechanical arm need no further discussion, it's a moot point. "You're curious," he concludes. He keeps catching him looking at his arm, and after he's been so thoroughly indulged, Pinocchio supposes it's only polite to allow him a turn.
"What do you want to know?"
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It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Oh, many things, given how little I know of machinery. But I suppose it’s best to start with something simple.”
Then his expression grows somber.
“…Does it hurt?”
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He expects something like the questions Stiles had asked while they sat together on the four-poster bed with Pinocchio's Legion Arm stretched out between their knees. He doesn't expect to be asked if it hurts.
Geppetto never asked this. Eugenie and Venigni, when they had him try a new prosthesis with a new set of capabilities, would ask how he liked it, would look for his approval in the work of their hands. But no one ever asked him if it hurt. Nearly everyone in Krat believed puppets were unfeeling tools governed by the Grand Covenant.
The look on Pinocchio's face is less 'what do you think' and more 'why wouldn't it?', but his answer is immediate.
"All the time."
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Which means that he must have suffered for quite a long time…
“…That certainly won’t do. If you would allow me take a closer look at that arm, then perhaps I might be able to find some way of numbing the pain.”
Never mind that he’s quite in the dark as to the true nature of Pinocchio’s entire body, but that’s an issue for another time.
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Baizhu cares that he's in pain. Surely, it's because he's convinced that he's just like everyone else here. While Pinocchio sees himself as human, he's also aware that his body is like a thing arrested mid-chrysalis — he's been evolving, changing, into something almost human, but clockwork still churns in his chest and in his head, he still hears his springs creak when he moves. These ever-present reminders keep his otherness rooted in his awareness, and he has a wealth of examples of how people react to that.
He glances down at his arm, a little wary, "It's all right. I'm used to it."
Perhaps he doesn't trust him enough. It is, after all, attached to him.
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He thinks back to Daan, to the heavy stone arm laid out across the table between them, and shudders.
“But my offer still stands, whenever you have a mind to take it. I’ll leave that choice up to you.”
The most tragic of patients, he thinks, are the ones who’ve already admitted defeat, who finally choose death over suffering, even if it means that they’ll be torn away from their loved ones. He wonders at the people who must certainly be waiting for Pinocchio back home, worried and scared and waiting to gather him up in a loving embrace…
But for the moment Baizhu knows he cannot help him.
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Feeling a little indebted, like he should at least give him something, he starts to speak again, when something that looks a bit like creme brulee without a burnt sugar coating, the curd drizzled with some kind of pale yellowish sauce.
"Legion Arms come in many shapes and designs, for their uses are Legion," he explains, "Krat had lots of them manufactured by different workshops and were coming up with new ones all the time until the disaster stopped production."
He tells it almost exactly the way Venigni had patiently explained to him, once the brilliant entrepreneur had him captive as an audience, waiting on his new arm to be installed. He had been a man who loved to talk, and Pinocchio loved to listen to him. Interested in the dish that arrived, he leans forward, "...Is that the curdled milk?"
Puppet drops a bomb of a word like 'disaster' and stops to be curious about a new dessert? It tracks.
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All he knows now is that, with a production facility likely incapacitated, there would be no further repairs to that arm. No more relief from pain unless someone steps in to help.
But, like with children, he can’t help but issue a challenge—
“Would you like to find out? I can even feed you myself, if you prefer.”
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Staring him down like Baizhu had casually suggested feeding him his left hand, the puppet maintains steady eye contact and, without aggression, he calmly reaches across the table, taking hold of the spoon set in the dish. A sizable chunk of curd wobbles in the bowl of the spoon, glistening and glossy under the lights of the eatery.
He spoons it onto Baizhu's plate.
A second spoonful lands into his own plate. He puts both the curd and its serving spoon between them, taking up his tea in the other hand.
"You first, good doctor."
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Adorable. Baizhu smiles, but manages to hold back a little chuckle at that.
“Why, thank you.”
He dips his spoon into the curd and scoops it up, letting the treat melt onto his tongue while he savors it with a happy sigh. Ah, yes. There it is—just the right hit of ginger; Madame Jin has outdone herself yet again.
“You know,” he says after a moment, “if you don’t hurry up, I might just finish it all before you get to try it.”
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Rare were the Kratians who did not fear the autonomy or deny the feelings of puppets. Puppets weren't real people, after all! It's from this cultural standpoint that Pinocchio finds himself sensitive to having that autonomy stripped away, or being treated like he can't make solid decisions for himself. It's not that he blames those who do, the friction between humans and puppets is bigger than himself.
But one life at a time, he seeks to slowly, softly change his world. Baizhu seems to savor the taste of the dessert, and Pinocchio's expression softens, sympathetic. It prompts him to pop a spoonful into his mouth, eyes lighting up.
It's soft, silky, creamy... with a zingy-spicy flavor, slightly sweet. He seems to like this even more than the almond cookies, as he promptly slides another spoonful into his mouth, eyes shutting. It's a texture thing, perhaps. It's soft and decadent, and ginger always tastes so exotic when he encounters it.
"I think I like this one best," he admits.
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Though that isn’t to say that Baizhu’s failed to notice the little things—the automatic response, implying that he’d been well-trained in manners, perhaps to his detriment. And the way he lights up upon eating that dessert…
“I would recommend against eating too much. Not when there are still so many other dishes to savor. He’s already glancing to the side, where the staff are bringing in yet more of their orders: custard buns, glutinous rice dumplings, sesame balls, and even something he considers his own specialty: sweet boiled pears.
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He slows as the other dishes arrive, and soon the table between them is cluttered with sweets. Contemplating Baizhu's advice, he asks sincerely, "Do you think we've overdone it?"
Undaunted, Pinocchio reaches for a custard bun, curious what's inside the fluffy white casing, "I'll eat whatever you can't finish," he promises, right before he takes a bite. The airy bun is scarcely sweet at all, but has a bouncy texture, and then, a little further inside, sweet custard. He's heard people talk about heaven, but he thinks he might have found it right here.
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According to his own research, anyway.
“But I’ll see to it that you don’t overindulge, so please, enjoy yourself for now.”
Anything they can’t finish they can pack up to go, anyway. There’s no reason to disrespect Jin Mingming by leaving out leftovers, after all!
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He chews another bite, and has scarcely swallowed before he's finished thinking it over.
"Why? Do you think I need you to see to me?" he asks reasonably. His eyes drop to the custard bun, pinching the white, fluffy bun, tearing off a piece of it and its custardy filling, about to eat it. "Do you need anyone to see to yourself when you eat?"
He's an independent puppet and doesn't need babying! Also he's probably missing the real point here, that overindulging could make a person with a stomach ill.
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But it’s that second question that makes him smile. When was the last time he got to have a philosophical discussion like that? It makes him think of those lazy afternoon tea parties back at home with Zhongli. But the poor man had already been turned to stone twice, and…
“You’re right. As a doctor, I really should put more faith in my patients.”
Everyone in this resort is essentially a patient in his eyes. Everyone has to need a doctor eventually, after all.
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After staring for a moment, he glances down, "I misjudged, I apologize."
Pinocchio doesn't attempt to correct him, not when he's sure to summon up the kinds of questions he doesn't feel like answering if he insists that he can't become ill. Still, the fact that he's seen the same way as anyone else... that makes a special kind of warmth bloom in his chest. Cramming the remainder of the custard bun in his mouth to disguise the private smile that's started to steal over his face, he feels that warmth spread to his cheeks.
"I'll be careful," he concedes, once he's swallowed down his mouthful and his wry smile.
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He thinks he might’ve caught a glimpse of a smile, but Pinocchio’s a little too quick for him. Not that it matters much, since he’s done enough teasing and not nearly enough eating as it is.
Those pears aren’t going to finish themselves, after all.
“And I hope you’ll come to me whenever you feel ill. A taste of this can do wonders for your health.”
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He hasn't really questioned why he both admires and mistrusts doctors.
And anyway, it's nothing that will get between him and some stewed pears. Which, speaking of, given the gusto with which he tucks in, they might be his favorite of the lot (because they're peeled, for one). If there's a pattern where the latest thing Pinocchio has eaten is his new favorite, that is 100% a valid observation.
"Pears are medicine?" he asks, incredulous, "...Do you treat many people here?"
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Oh, to be so young and spry…
Setting aside the pear question for now¬—
“Oh, yes. Illness never rests, I’m afraid. And there are some…unique risks associated with this world’s imperatives, after all.”
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With only his own experience when he had a Spade and the mental anguish it put him through, and some... first-hand experience helping a Diamond through a few excruciating symptoms of suit activation, he doesn't think he has a very firm grasp on the bigger picture, or its myriad effects on the other suits.
"I thought the only cure was..." he trails off, considering how best to convey his meaning. Putting down his spoon, the puppet makes a very rude gesture, without a shred of shame. The fact that his expression is so blankly unbothered probably tips this from 'offensive' into 'funny', depending on one's sense of decorum.
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