【 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 parking garage for all new arrivals. We aim to have all guests moved into their reserved rooms as soon as possible. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience!
All are invited to There Is No Tomorrow, a Phoenix Casino soiree to celebrate our beloved guests. The festivities will begin at 1800 hours on January 20th and end at 1800 hours on January 27th. Please look forward to 168 hours of delight.
In an effort to raise happiness and encourage better guest relationships, attendance is required. The house will assist guests that are too shy to appear of their own accord. Please note that black tie attire is mandatory. As always, we hope you enjoy your stay! 】
PARKING GARAGE
ANY CAR IN A STORM
PHOENIX CASINO HALL
WELCOME TO THE NEXT 168 HOURS
Phoenix Casino is a-flutter with activity and packed to the beak with guests. As a famously ever-changing space, the staff would be remiss if they didn't deck the crown jewel of the Golden Peacock out. The casino glitters from top to bottom, shining brighter than diamonds, rubies, sapphires, opals! Party-goers are shiny and glamorous with picture perfect makeup, fluttering gowns, and sharp suits. Card tables are packed and the slot machines are a-ringing as guests play, play, play! Prizes, luxury, booze, attractive people, it's the place that everyone wants to be at.
Those people being dragged inside by some invisible force...? Silly, they were so excited to come that their bodies moved before they realized what was happening. Those are struggles of joy and definitely not the casino's infamous ghost hands dragging unwilling guests to the party at the behest of the house. Look, they're literally hurling their bodies at the card tables with unrestrained glee!
All clocks indicating day hours and night hours have been removed from the casino. Once a guest has entered, their Watch will jam, making it impossible to keep track of the time. You don't need to worry about that tonight.
▶ 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 January event.
▶ 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. This month we also have an ongoing ATP / EMP where players can connect. Please feel free to utilize this for all of your peafowl needs!
▶ 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.
▶ 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.
[ damn... this sweet-talk is really turning her on even more. girls simply don't threaten her with legendary deaths as much as they used to, or maybe they barely or never did. and maybe doctor prudently miraculously avoids putting too many murderous women together in squads, even though there are a lot, so they barely have an opportunity to get along like a house on fire. maybe she does want to beg for it, just maybe.
and the whole kidnapping play is just icing on top. her dress is rather long so if she can feel wetness crawl down her thigh she'll keep it a little secret a little longer until whenever clothes might have to be shed. sinking teeth and claws in someone is a favorite game but maybe she totally handicapped herself by promising to be a willing partner. trying to play nice and offer some grace rather than pounce on prey, however she might like to.
as a playmate w is making her mentally recalibrate by the second. she finds a spare champagne room; the music of the casino muffles behind the heavy door as she enters, still allowing for w to capture her arm behind her if she wants. being captured to this place at all is... irritating and a bit unnerving. but the nerves of play like this just spark all the right kind of shivers. ]
Signorina Abductress...
I said that I'm willing, and I am. I'll even beg if that's what pleases you and if you're that good. [ well she won't lie and say she wouldn't prefer to be the one extracting the begging but she's also somewhat patient, funnily enough, and... something else she won't admit. a curl of black ribbon twines around w's arm as she slides opera-gloved fingers up w's shoulder with her free arm, ] You're the one with the weapon, I'm your poor little captive. Whatever should I do! I tried to grab the knife and even destroy it and it didn't work, maybe all I can do is please my hunter or bide my time...
I mean, we can have some fun. [ she slinks full-body against w, with a fluff of her tail and the rub of her ass to hitch at the hem of w's dress. playing as some captive. it doesn't quite suit her, but she likes to play any twisted game. ]
(his authority and her wretched bloodline, that sounded right on what could not be stripped away. arlecchino did have the impression neuvillette had noticed she is by no means a citizen of fontaine. for those who are capable of seeing, it's always evident in her eyes. how out of place they look compared to the usual of those around her (without counting those terrible and vicious hands) in appearance alone. the unruly heat in her veins was the other tell.
still, he's been quiet on that as much as she has his origin. she owed that much of a respect for him while she mulls over how to answer his question. her clawed fingertips tap the glass in deep thought for a moment, the number of questions she asked weren't always answered. some would avoid it to focus more on her appearance and looks. others would make sordid commentary about how much of a partner she must be in bed.)
They were calling me, for now, a "wildcard" in conversation. The bits that did come up from what little I could glean is that debauchery is almost certainly encouraged and pushed about.
(which means that the much taller man would be out of his comfort zone, the knave can admit she's done these things. they weren't exactly from necessity (she even did see it more as pleasure than anything substantial) which is what makes this place unusual.)
If I have some manner of picture about it, sex is the expectation placed upon us. The women of the guests made their intentions quite clear when I was questioning them that they wanted to drag me into the high roller's lounge.
(she denied them that, she is not above pleasure of the flesh, yes. but, arlecchino also does not feed that desire too much, the ways it might mean for her vary and it's a fifty-fifty on whether or not if that's good for someone. as much as she does control that need for violence that gnaws at her, that didn't mean she would subject herself to too much of it.)
The revelation gives him a moment's pause, but there's too many topics and buttons to press all at once; who is this? What happened to her? A dead woman walking? Months? Also, what the hell is he wearing. Some sort of gauzy robe. He stares ineffectually at the latch of the trunk, grateful at least that there's no seeing the tiny knit of his brow, as though that would be some grave overreaction. ]
Too much trouble. [ Keep your soul, mystery lady. ] I don't think you have to worry about me being some sort of... painted doppelganger. [ A pause. He tacks on, casually, ] And by the way, I don't know how much air's left in here.
[Kizuna's not wrong about him. Ball of gunpowder with only a spark away from going off. Luckily explosions tend not to last long; weather it and he calms down until the next one. Bakugo eyes the other man with a measured gaze, noting the way he seems to mellow within the air around him. Someone who's either used to such things or takes them as they come. He'll do fine in the hotel with that sort of attitude. But simultaneously, not someone he instantly clocks as a fellow "lets bust the fuck outta here" guest.]
It didn't last long.
[Scoffed dismissively, throwing the experience out the proverbial window. He leans back in his chair, red eyes taking a quick sweep of the table. Nothing really on it save for the luxurious felt surface and a raised border to contain rattling die. Compared to Kizuna's metal drizzled white, it's a clash. Each person passing behind him cuts his pristine silhouette for a moment before back to melting into the busy backdrop.]
Hmph. [If he's giving a pass like that... Bakugo leans his forearm on the table and holds his hand out for the die.] I'm going first.
[ fig had never liked cars. something to do with his previous life, he thinks, the way they feel so big but restrictive, the worst kind of cocktail of grievances for someone who only ever enjoyed contradiction if it came from himself. one would think the lack of engine hum would appease him, but all it does is set him further on edge. the silence in and of itself is taunting, as if all the cars were waiting for the exact moment fig lets his guard down just to roar back to life.
needless to say, he hasn't moved from his spot on the far corner of the backseat since he first woke. tense and jumpy, it's an awful combination to be in when that knock and those terse words eventually come in, making his grip on the armrest go near clawing. ]
Go away!
[ he does not, in fact, roll the windows down. he does very little else but give the stranger a withering glare through the tinted windows. ]
( thankfully for red, the little kitten on reira's lap is quick to swat at both their hands in a demand for attention. as such, she pulled her hand away to pat its back gently before it focused back onto red. )
I guess we'll have to get used to it, and yeah we are. I wonder if there's someone we can ask....the employees here seemed rather strange didn't they?
( to his words, she turned to fully face him, her chest and lap covered by the towel, with only her backside truly visible. she remained silent for now as she heard him speak and observed him closely-
despite all appearances and her personality at times being rather casual and flirtatious, reira hadn't had much experience with too many men. there were only three people she had slept with and they were all people she knew from back home. former boyfriend, a sex worker, a married man....so to lay eyes on someone with a body like this left her with a rather shocked look on her face. she would have remembered seeing such a sight, wouldn't she?
but then he's bringing focus to the marking on his body, one she hadn't found on her body [simply because it was on the back of her neck]. )
What is that...does everyone here have that mark?
( it was evident she was not only new here, but had gone head first into the fun of it all instead of asking why she was here. )
[ his partner in cards offers up little details freely, evoking the spirit of summer, though nehan's more distracted by the new card. he listens without looking up from the question. ]
Is that so... [ validation, what a concept. ] For me, it was my parents. No special reason.
[ he doesn't actually remember, making educated guesses at his own life, but his watch doesn't go off, so that must be right. it's not like he'd have told his sister—too embarrassing. he hunts for a good card to draw then, filling in space with a follow-up of his own as he does. nothing in the rules about adding in their own questions. ]
Did you say it as a reassurance, or because you meant it?
(maybe they should consider it lucky that the teller didn't ask if she wanted a clit piercing instead. god, texas is going to avoid mentioning that. no, no, hell no. bringing that up after getting the saving grace that is them being able to spin the wheel again was not necessary. she'll need to use it on her, right? it'd score her chips after her spending spree for christmas last month. plus pocket change to help them both out as necessary.
as long as it wasn't anything else that's terrible, right?
w's embarrassment and angry advocating aside, she does appreciate it as far as they both can take that while she reaches again to spin this roulette wheel for their unusual prize. neither of them are likely to enjoy a fair bit of these options, but that's something. something that they can work with depending on the toy that they wind up with.
(as long as they're also both willing to put up with the more physical part of their game play.)
she's already thinking about what to do whenever she notices the wheel kept falling back on "magic wand" like something refused to let it go past it. oh. oh god, she just realized that was about to be another nasty surprise, the wand in question isn't abnormal. she's seen them here and has used one out of curiosity (don't judge her, please) but that's not quite going to end well. not for having to explain the use of them.
right as it lands on the magic wand option and the teller hands it over, texas already can feel that headache returning. not from near over smelling twig, but from seeing the fact that she's going to be having one helluva long night this week. this time. god help her. especially after she already came to terms with her earlier discovery in the damn parking lot.)
....you use it to massage your clit for the main use of it, by the way.
(don't. ask please why she knows this from her stay there.
she will not elaborate, she will not answer, no. there will be no explanation given while she's attempting to do her best impression of someone that is not here. is this called disassociating? yeah, it is. is it a good idea and healthy? no, but sometimes a girl needs to pretend she's anywhere other than where she's at. that also includes now with the sex toy roulette.
with w.
yeah, can she get a refund on being forced to attend this party for the whole week?)
[ who needs more people being stuffed into car trunks
he's a little out of sorts, a little discombobulated from suddenly being someplace else, trapped in a cramped, dark space while dressed in a robe he absolutely did not buy, but he still wonders, perhaps, if it isn't strange to walk up to the noisy trunk of a car and... knock back.
he stares up into the abyss of the trunk, which is to say, the roof of it. ]
[ well that's sure not what she was expecting to hear. she rolls with the punches for the most part and she was pretty casual about being captured here all things considered but this is kind of testing even her limits of believeability. she even has to stop the car mid-aisle while the garage seemingly truly has no exit at all and she just puts the hummer in park and looks at texas for a moment as if to make sure she's not lying.
then lean in a little and take her shoulders and scent at her, head tilt, one ear flicking. it looks like texas, smells like texas, sounds like texas... she knows there have been at least one instance of spies in deception and disguise but as far as she knows, this is definitely texas. even though texas appears to be looking at her a little more than she normally does, but she could assume it's because whoever captured her really had to go and take her clothes. ]
So, whoever or whatever brought us... guests... here, just to have sex.
[ saying it aloud still makes it sound pretty surreal.
... ] Is there a reason why, at least. Or is the House just owned by a huge pervert.
[ for the nth time, shouko adjusts as inconspicuously as possible in her seat. the dress (allegedly) is one-of-a-kind, hand-beaded and meticulously tailored for someone just her size and shape. unfortunately it's also lined with what feels like burlap, squeezing around her bust and scraping the delicate skin enough that she can't imagine having said no to the courtesy pasties she'd been offered. (because god forbid trying to fit a bra under this thing.) she's been waiting a little too long for a table to free up, a wait she'd been assured would be minimal when she'd been given her first complimentary champagne. champagne she had wisely discarded after watching more than a few people unceremoniously crash to the floor after their own glass. she's just looking for a place to stash the second glass when she's taken by the arm and led forward to a girl with fiery hair and a dress that barely leaves a thing to the imagination. if shouko's flushed as she slides into the seat, she has to hope it'll look like blush to compliment the pearly pink of her own dress. ]
Been waiting to. My name's Shouko.
[ her smile is crooked, no doubt, flustered from the brisk escort and the careless abandonment. yes, she really had been waiting for this game in particular after hearing rumors of the prizes even better than the payout. somehow she didn't expect to end up with someone her own age, though. ]
[ it's only the din of the room on her side, loud enough to swallow up her fondly muttered show-off. she'd heard rumors of getou from gojou, assurances that, at least at some point, he'd been around, though it had been short-lived and something maybe half-imagined. but there was no mistaking him now, broad shoulders and confidence as he helps a flustered and red-faced guest off a Curse with a smile she'd nearly forgotten. unlike the grateful girl, however, she approaches getou with some caution. the smile might be welcome, but not a day's gone by that she hasn't spent at least a little idle time worrying about the past. the deaths she can't change. the autumn she'd been whisked away from after a miserable, unforgettable summer. ]
She's fine. You've never missed.
[ a cigarette dangles from her fingers, unlit and mostly bait to grab someone's attention if the moment calls for it. her dress matches the general ambience, glitzy, nauseatingly glamorous, well-fitted though not exactly to her taste. she keeps a bit of distance between them, free arm crossed around her middle, telegraphing her uncertainty despite the cool smile on her face. ]
Kinda surprised to see you here. Not that I think any of us really had a choice to show up, but I haven't managed to catch you at any of the other mandatory parties in this place.
[ her fishing is obvious but she isn't trying to be subtle. she is, however, also quite obviously hopeful to be approaching a friend. one sorely missed, persona non grata or not. ]
[gets quite a round of reactions from the table. many of them staring at him like he's some kind of monster or shock value thrust into their happy little lives. maybe he is. chatter falls to silence, unnerving looks as if they're not sure what to make of him or do with him. and after he simply invited himself to their table of his own curious heart. all the more reason to lean in further to their peace, shoulders rounding in bunched intent he has none for leaving. they know he's staying. screw whether it creeps them out. better for him that it does.]
Cold table.
[everything reflects in his helmet, pretty colored lines neatly arched on green table felt, gambling chips of differing hues melting to ovals, all their faces warped in stretching disfigurement towards domed apex and truncating at the metal jawline. he reaches forward across the surface for one of the cards, only to pause when someone finally gathers nerve enough and answers. hand hovering, he tucks his head towards his shoulder back, face aiming for a young man with white hair and strange eyes. calculating. seems he's not a normal human. a strange energy lingers on him, as if it's unsure whether light or dark.]
Never heard of it. [everyone's got cards and chips... looks like he's gonna need both. plastic clacks as he grabs a fistful of chips from the pot and retreats with a strange leathery creak, straightening up beside the white-haired guy.] But I'm a fast learner.
[any shock or protest seems to die down when his new teacher waves at the dealer. seems he's got some sway... quickly arranging the chips in front of himself to match his new teacher's, same placement, arrangement, stacking, and all, he accepts the cards dealt to him.]
Ha ha ha. Liar. You like it. [no deal.] Let's play.
See, that's what I don't know. We're expected to play the Game, Game 52 as it's called. The whole resort takes energy from us having sex, but nothing more than that was answered for me.
(which leaves dealing with. well. lappland, lappland didn't seem to have noticed that her own suit works against her, yet. which means revealing things that she wouldn't have before. prodding her into more reckless behavior, while also pushing texas into doing things that she'd normally keep hidden. that also includes....yeah, it includes being more open on her feelings slightly toward lappland. aka, the staring, the dirty thoughts that it's trying to push on her against her will. fuck. that's not exactly how she would like to be exposed. even with her coming close to smell her scent. there's nothing different to it. nothing except cologne that was forced on texas though that's subtle.
she shouldn't however hide that she's a player is the other thing, which is why cellinia does reach to remove her left glove. right along the back of her hand is that spade mark she was given, the wolves making up the shape of it also were interesting. one had the same colors as texas (unsaturated, mostly, save for a slight color) and the other? the other seems familiar, colors that match....lappland.)
You get marked with one of these, somewhere.
(no, she's not going to answer why her spade mark took that shape. why it looks like them as wolves. she has a feeling on why, but she doesn't want to say it given circumstances between them are....complicated. complicated enough as is, with or without the haunted resort.
( it's not just the bartender that's giving the stranger a look of disdain--he's wearing it himself, eyes narrowed, mouth twitched into disapproval; rather than say a word, he reaches across the bar for the small stack of napkins there, palming up two or three and dabbing them, silently, on the bar. there's only a little bit of backwash spray there, maybe a dribble from the bottle, or the other's sleeve--patiently, and without another word, he holds them up in offer. doesn't matter if the guy takes them or not, he'll keep his hand poised there.
he's too used to having to clean up after two slobs--well, a slob and a half, given that he'd at least managed some kind of peaceful coexistence with the former before the latter showed up.
the surprise that he isn't told to just fuck off doesn't linger on his expression, but it does flatten, and he straightens in his seat, abandoning the napkins so that he can reach a palm out and cover the width of the vibrator box. his fingers curl around the edges. )
It's Hayakawa. ( he's not going to let someone else just blandly call him topknot for months. ) Hayakawa Aki.
( dragging the box back towards himself, he pushes off the bar stool to stand-- )
So? Where do you want to do this? ( there's a little wave of the box in indication, as if the other could have possibly forgotten. ) It would be embarrassing for you if we did it here.
( this stranger has at least got one thing right--he's not particularly interested in companionship.
three questions is generous, which makes him wonder how bountiful this person's knowledge is, about this place. could it be that he doesn't know much of anything? could it be that no one knows much of anything? it might be a waste, then, to get some matter-of-fact nos and maybe sos murmured from those cat-like lips.
but the offer sets the bar, and though his gaze is drawn, at once, to that glimmer of metal, he jerks it away just the same. prosthetics, if that's what that hint implies, aren't unheard of in a place where devil hunters lose life and limb almost instantaneously.
he's not going to be able to offer his skin up for a trade like this. well, not the way he would normally-- )
Then are you after companionship, yourself?
( his eyes go from the pretty house of cards, to the pretty lashes peering at him--and then back again. )
A handjob. ( there's not even a blink, not a stammer, nothing but the calm confidence of a near virgin. ) Do you accept or not?
( there's definitely someone inside. that voice doesn't appear out of nowhere, not some phantom murmur from inhuman lips; he doesn't have to squint at the window again to see it. naturally, however, the occupant is reluctant to give up their position: which either means they have what he's asking for and refuse to give in, or they're scared, stubborn, the kind of person that would rather die in the fire than be rescued and pulled out. he doesn't have the time to deal with someone like that--which is why the knocking ceases.
instead, he's sliding his hand down to find the door handle. one pull, then another: it's locked, and with his jaw set, he looks up again, and tries a third, final time, another yank.
this time, the door gives--the resort's on his side, at least for the time being. as the door creaks open, he dips a pale knee into the exposed backseat, already ducking his head inside so that he can grip a hand around the back of the driver's seat and lean further in. )
...So you don't have anything. ( he says, even while he's searching, pushing at the headrest of the passenger side seat, leaning forward between the two, then peering back at the stranger and his coveted backseat. with another sigh, he ducks his head out of the car, straightening up again to stand on his feet outside the door. ) That would have been easier if you had just said so.
( and yet it feels wrong, just leaving a near naked stranger behind: ) Are you coming or not?
( naturally, he's been full of dramatics this entire time--which means that for this roll, he's crouched himself down to be eye level with the table, peering at the felt top from over the rim of his sunglasses. one dice clunks over to show a ten, and with a bright, loud gasp, barely heard over the chatter of the party, he waits for the next dice to slide and fall--onto a four.
his head pops up from the side of the table, hands planted down on the side of it so that he can whip his chin around to look at the chart--and then he lets out a wailing sort of laugh, mostly at shouko's expense. )
Bite my ass, seriously?!
( okay, so he had been sort of holding out for something like this--but he'd been more hoping for it to be something a little nicer, more sensual, something that might lead to more of shouko's touching than necessary. maybe loneliness is just something that will never get weeded out of him, no matter how much attention he gets; or maybe it's that shouko provides the kind of comfort that he needs, now.
either way, he's straightening up to his full height, both hands sliding in to the expensive belt at his hips. )
You gotta take all this off, first. I'm not just gonna bend over like you're sticking me in the ass with a needle.
[ mornings are struggle enough without... this. whatever this is. an angry stranger with magical powers who looks to be feeling as horrible and hungover as he is. nehan has no idea whether this person is genuinely volatile, or just ill-tempered, though his tone is too flat to read as self-preservation either way. ]
Sorry, should I let you keep snoozing?
[ he also is not enjoying this, for the record? damn.
but in some cases, it's easier to just give way. he sighs and shuffles towards the edge of the bed to put the water bottle away, looking over the other 'goods' they've been left with, reaching for his eyepatch first. ]
[ The guy seems to be rolling with the punches pretty well, which means he'll settle well enough into the madness of the Golden Peacock, but for every bit of sexually charged thing the resort has its guest participate in, it somehow manages to find a way to do something like this too.
Karma for Broca nearly busting a guy's knee earlier as part of the game? Maybe so...
Either way Broca's eyes are closing for a moment in quiet exasperation, before he opens them again, and gives a solemn nod at that. ]
Just don't hit it hard enough to break it. I don't like the clinic here.
[ Personal reasons, past bad experiences... he'd rather just shove tissues up a bleeding, broken nose and let it heal crooked than go to them. ]
[ If he was more normal with his affections, Kizuna might hesitate at having a look like that leveled at him, all bite and sullenness. So much that his expression slacks in wonder for a moment, looking down at Scott in his pajamas with his messy hair...
As it is, Kizuna's affections aren't normal. Doubly so when a wave of homesickness swells through him before he's able to consciously tamp down on it. He's really a lot like Maya. Snap first, sort through later. Throwing people off a sensitive heart with the aggression that youth wears so well. Kizuna lowers the compress like he might be relenting on it, but really it's just in the interest of puffing out a laugh, fondness aching in his chest. ]
Hold on! Your bedhead's really, really cute! [ If Scott isn't prepared to fight him off, Kizuna will just dive back into bed and throw his arms around him. ] I feel like I'm getting to see something I shouldn't!
[ For all his bluster, he does seem like he means it. ]
[ at least taking hostages is old hat. w's certainly taken her fair share and probably some of them were as hot as lappland, but none made that awkward hostage waddle quite this alluring. it's one thing to hold someone prisoner, but fuck if it isn't another thing entirely to feel them moving into it, no matter how hard she shoves that plastic shard into lappland's spine.
and that hand — her teeth flash, though briefly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. there are mercs she's known her whole life who wouldn't have the balls to lay a hand on her, and there's plenty more unwitting fools who thought they could be the one to steal a touch. they're all rotting now, and w's mind is so quickly consumed by thoughts of lappland fly-thick and bloated in that enormous pile of them, her entire body flooding with singing tension.
but the instinct just isn't there, to dash lappland's skull against the floor until it breaks or to wrap her hands around that pretty neck and shake until it falls apart. the impulse sure is, but she finds her skin heating instead, that twisted clenching within turning absolutely fucking unbearable. maybe, maybe, just this once, she wants...
she slams the door behind them, and then indeed captures lappland's arm behind her back, wrenching her forward until she can crash her hard against one of the walls. the nerve of this bitch, throwing it back like that. obviously w needs to grind her into drywall until her bones are milled to a fine dust. ]
Sure, you can beg.
[ at least now the plastic stuck in lappland's spine falls away. w leans determinedly against her as she passes it over her palm, and there's that tell-tale sizzling of arts in the air, the hilt of the blade returning to settle against lappland's throat, significantly warmer than before and emitting a soft tick... tick... ]
Either way, this ends in fireworks. Just gotta find someplace fun to stick this before time's up. Maybe... here?
[ glowing hotter and hotter and slipping down the front of lappland's dress, the fabric catching and tearing at its jagged edges. maybe it'll melt the dress or flesh or all of it if she channels hard enough. ]
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