[ It doesn’t matter how luxurious the car is: Tharja comes from a world where cars don’t exist period. She’s been on a ship, probably been in a carriage, and even flown as a passenger on a wyvern. But this metal deathtrap?? Unheard of. Metal is for weapons and armor.

Her discomfort is only made worse by how small the car is, too. Because she didn’t get lucky and wake up in a spacious party limo or an SUV. No, no. Tharja is cramped in a two-seater Porsche, with another person, and it’s not even the model with a convertible top that she could tear through.

Tharja huffs a miserable laugh through her nose. ]

A torture device made for two? How efficient. I’d be more impressed if I wasn’t trembling with rage. [ Her voice is deadpan, but Tharja is trembling, and it is with rage.

( it might also be because she’s cold. her robe is made of a fine silk, cool against her bare body, with long sleeves that end in lace and bedazzled detailing, and it’s short. )

After a futile attempt to wrench the side door open again (it’s locked), Tharja shoots a withering look at whoever her unfortunate passenger princess is. ]

What are you waiting for? Help me. Or do you want to die in here?

[ Girl it’s a car stop being so dramatic. ]

[ Well. Tharja isn’t exactly a party type of girl, but after being forced into a dress and being blocked by ghost hands every time she’s tried to leave, she has no choice but to at least wander around the casino.

Just aimlessly wandering gets boring after a while. She can only pass by the buffet table so many times, snipe so many hors d'oeuvres, and try to tuck away into a dark corner before those damned ghost hands shove her back out into the open. She’s observed the games being played and eventually lands at one of the Dirty Dice tables while nursing a glass of champagne.

Dice is fine. She’s played dice with the boys before. Even if these dice are…….. Different. She rolls the dice without any regard to her playing partner. And…

A 7 and a 12.

Fondle nose.

lol. lmao even.

Tharja twiddles her fingers almost menacingly. ]

You heard the dice. Let me fondle: I promise I won’t steal it ~

[ Aside from dice, the cards are the least offensive game being played in the casino. Tharja is good with her hands, has a delicate touch, and truly has nothing to lose. She highly doubts any of the questions will be deep pulls that she wouldn’t be willing to answer - she’s never tried to hide her freak before - and she doesn’t have that many chips in her account to begin with.

Tharja plucks a card away from the house without even a wobble. ]

What’s your worst habit? [ She scoffs. ] I have no bad habits.

Your turn.

[ Tharja doesn’t remember drinking that much. In fact, she explicitly remembers being careful about how much she drank in case any of it was poison! Yet, here she is, face down in a pillow with her head pounding something awful. There’s a piercing ringing in her ears, and even her body is sore. When she lifts herself up onto her forearms, it feels like her body is is as heavy as a giant sack of flour.

Her dark hair curtains in front of her face as she rises, both obscuring her features from her surprise bed-mate and making it so she doesn’t notice them either.

After a moment of silence, Tharja’s arms give out and she faceplants back into the safe embrace of the pillow. ]

Not today, Grima...

[ Yippee, you know the drill. Hit me with any other prompts you may like, or contact me if you want something personal. You can message me at this journal or on plurk LUCK33

All prompts are OTA! EMP is here, permissions here, no kink list yet. ]