【 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.
[ well, he cleans up nice, at least. from being trapped in a car in nothing but a robe to only able to find lost and found dredges, he’s finally able to work his way into a fine wardrobe for a suit and tie and a little gel to tie his flyaways back. it’s enough to get into the party without coming out looking like a disco ball. ]
[ oh look at that, people are floating. this wasn’t new to Getou well before he knew of Golden Peacock, and just seems to watch on with amusement as those who’ve indulged their libations float and drift blissfully… at least, until there’s a cry ringing out across all the other noise and a body quick to hit the floor! ]
[ ever the hero, he hangs close by and catches those who get caught off guard by the bubble bursting, so to speak. maybe he’ll catch you bridal-style! or maybe he’s speaking to someone at that exact moment, so you’ll land on a flying pink mantaray. either way, there’s someone to thank for your near miss! ]
You alright?
DIRTY DICE
[ there’s a… fond? laugh that spills out of him when he lands at a table with Dirty Dice, a bit of giddy joy that’s just a little more than the situation calls for, something too easily read as mischief or perversion. he watches the other players at the table take their turns, unblinking, accustomed to the display in spite of his wildcard status. “suck thigh”, “tickle elbow”, yes yes. ]
[ when the dice are pooled up in the center of his big palm, he tosses them across the surface of the table, watching it clatter off of snacks and drinks. when it lands, the command says simply: SLAP EAR ]
[ there isn’t even a heartbeat’s worth of time to digest the command before he’s smacking the person sitting right next to him upside the head with such a clap that it turns every head for several tables nearby. ]
…Your turn. [ he’s all smiles~. ]
SPIN THE WHEEL’S KING FOR A DAY
[ the only thing worse than a sore loser is a mean winner. he’d spun the wheel and, as luck would have it after some of his very worst, it’d landed on #5: an insta-prize. he’d been given the rundown of available options with a game show host’s enthusiasm – and that level of fanfare has yet to cease as he’s carted around on a palanquin by a slew of half-dressed workers. little does he know just how well he’d get used to living a life of worship. ]
[ impossible to know how long he’s been here or how much longer he will be, best to make the most of it. there’s plenty he’s dined on already: sweet and strong drinks, spicy smoke, succulent meals and saccharine desserts. he’s more prone to being disciplined than hedonistic, but sometimes there’s a new years party and young adult hormones and their rebellion encourage playing with fire, and enough worship will go to anyone’s head… especially when it wasn’t especially small in the first place. ]
[ some lower rank guests are pawing at the edge of his palanquin as it makes the rounds – anything for royal attention. he had a golden fan he’s using to smack the backs of their hands like some stuck-up royalty, but it’s more dissuading than an outright ceasefire. it isn’t long before, the role as he plays it, he’ll get someone else to do it: ]
You, there– [ a wave wave wave of his fan that’s less a greeting and more of a command: come here. ] Get rid of these rats for me? I’ll reward you~.
[ to offer the same prize those little rodents crave is just spiteful. ]
HOUSE OF CARDS
[ he approaches the table and does little more than lock eyes with another guest – but their watches connect, and they get labeled Player 1 and Player 2 before anyone can possibly protest. it isn’t that Getou’s so keen to win (though he certainly doesn’t hate it) as much as he’s increasingly aware that the House will dole its punishments and penalties as it pleases. ]
[ finally, takes a bow to his opponent – ] Please treat me kindly. [ – before he draws a card with little difficulty and reads the prompt. ]
What should the golden rule of any society be?
[ …it’s hard to say what he’s thinking or feeling, through that soft grin. hard to know if it touches his eyes while he has them closed pensively, but when he looks up again there’s something tired in his eyes, like he’s looking at a mountain he’s just never quite been able to scale: ]
I’m not sure I’m able to answer this right now… [ and that’s the crux of the thing, isn’t it? getou suguru has never been indecisive in his life. ] But I think perhaps… people who are weak should simply stay out of the way.
1 OR 11 (DOMINANT)
[ ace of hearts. the game manager tucks the card in his breast pocket as to put it on display for others – and if that weren’t enough, hands him a feather wand: good for sensations of all kind. still, he can’t say he’s unsatisfied with his allotment, learning his way around the new tool with a few beats against his palm. ]
[ there’s no point in being particular, not when he’s the one in control, or at least that’s how he thinks on it. may as well get used to it and see who’s up to play ball… so really any submissive who crosses his path will get a feather tap on the shoulder. ]
Hi. [ it’s good to be polite! ] Wanna get on your knees for me~?
[ it’s still a bit embarrassing, but he’s got a fox-sharp curiosity and playfulness about the whole thing. ]
OTHER –
[ open to wildcards! feel free to PM; kinklist on journal. i was here previously and am happy to continue cr or start fresh, whatever you prefer! getou is 18. ]
( The smack catches Jae Ha so off guard that he bends to one side a little, and for a moment, it might seem like he's hurt, or offended, or something. But as he slowly straightens himself and his eyes glint as they slide back to Suguru, a slow smile spreads across his face.
Frankly, he looks like a creep, anime nosebleed and all. )
My, that's quite the arm you have.
( It is absolutely his turn to roll the die, but he has been thoroughly distracted. )
Are you sure it connected with my ear? My hair was in the way, so maybe you should try it again.
( That absolutely contradicts with the reddening of his skin around his ear and cheek. His hair was not in the way. )
[ well, this can't be all today unusual of a person to have in a casino of debauchery. even with the politeness of the request, it's enough to make those with a weaker constitution squirm and shirk. thankfully, Getou is not among them. the politeness is met — with just an ever so subtle glint of malice in sly eyes. ]
[ Jae Ha has asked the right person, ]
Don't you think that would be inconsiderate to our fellow players?
[ in the wrong circumstance. ]
I don't want to cause bitterness or jealousy. Here.
[ gathering the dice from the table, he takes up one of Jae Ha's hands and places them in his palm, closing his fingers over them with a tenderness, both hands clasped over his. ]
Roll, roll~. Perhaps your performance will impress someone, and all your wishes will be fulfilled. [ heheheh that cheekprint ♥ ]
( Jae Ha accepts the dice with a breath of a laugh, eyes flicking down from Suguru to the table proper. Bitterness or jealousy, huh... Well, that's fine. Outright rejections are far more common to him, so a smile like that tells him that he might have met someone who can help him out with this casino game more than he originally anticipated.
But, for now, it's his turn to roll. When he does, he gets BITE and THIGH.
The result has him looking in faux innocence at Suguru once more. )
I believe I'm meant to do this on skin. Don't you think?
[ as robin would treat anyone without kindness in his heart... it'd be rude to start on the wrong foot with a stranger, right? especially someone as well dressed and frankly, handsome, as getou is. robin really lucked out! but he'll nod politely at the request, rock back into the comfortable couch, tilt his head at the question as he thinks about it himself.
it's the response that makes that smile on his face fade into uncertainty. ]
And what makes people weak?
[ does robin look weak? at least his voice isn't trembling and his posture hasn't changed. he's genuinely curious despite the questioning tone... ]
[ this question is less complicated — but has just a hint of audacity that somehow catches him off guard. sheltered is not what Getou is when he's so intimately familiar with the horrors of the world, but the people with whom he's surrounded ascribe to the same definition of strength all... ]
[ though, that's all the fault of one man alone, isn't it? Getou's smile goes tight, his eyes cold. everyone is weak compared to him. ]
Is the definition of "weakness" not ubiquitous? [ seems to be the only clarity he cares to offer, and without empathy to Robin's concerns, his obvious small stature. he places the card with the question near him, starting a discard pile, excessively neat and careful with its arrangement. ]
[ he's answered the demands of the game; he needn't indulge a stranger to continue, and so waits with impassive patience. ]
[ oh. well, that's the kind of answer that doesn't feel like he needs to respond to. it's a question that has him freeze... mull it over... it's a response that does exactly what it should. it's conclusive. is robin satisfied with it? does it even matter?? no.
still, he can't help but get a Feeling... ]
My turn then. [ obviously. not one to be self-conscious, robin's still feeling the flutters of something in his chest. those fingers of his tremble very slightly while he takes a card closer to the top, not wanting to appear nervous. ]
Um. "What's the biggest risk you've ever taken in your life?"
[ robin hums, something soft and lyrical. ]
I gave up my mortality so I could have an eternity with my brother. I think that's a pretty big risk.
[The fawning partygoers are drawn to power and prestige, or at least the appearance of it. Desperate to have some of it rub off on them by favor of association. They don't know the man they're grasping at. But theirs isn't the only attention Geto's display has drawn.
Neither the designated minion, nor one of the status seekers, Nanami is still making his way through the crowd toward the familiar figure on the palanquin when the order is issued. He hears it though (winces a little, internally—at least it wasn't "monkeys") and quickens his steps to break through the people milling around on the opposite side.]
Why don't I disperse them instead? We should talk, anyway.
[Seven may be the bottom of the mid-ranks, but it's still higher status than most of these groupies can claim. His tall, broad physique and the black patch over his left eye, matching the rest of his black tie attire, also adds to his intimidation factor. It only takes a stern look and a, "Go on, find someone else to gawk at," to scatter them, some grumbling as they walk away, others casting wistful looks over their shoulders. He waits until the stragglers clear off, turning from one side to the other to make sure, before addressing Geto again.]
[ that flaxen shade of hair has lost its uniqueness in a less homogenous environment than their home country, and its style is far different than last he remembers it. though they had texted over their watches before his unfortunate... statuefication, and he'd been made aware of his schoolmate's many years on him, seeing him like this in the flesh... ]
[ all that well-muscled flesh he turns his head towards at the familiar sound. his voice isn't so very different: low and dry, joyless, gritted a bit more with age but identifiable. it feels like that's all that remains familiar, and golden eyes take a moment to adjust, pupils lens-flickering into recognition. ]
Nanami-kun. [ the honorific is simultaneously natural and odd, now. his eyes linger meaningfully on the one missing, his fingers twitching, moving between them with some desire to do... something. after a beat, it withdraws, seeming to think better of invading personal space. instead, he taps a palanquin holder's head twice with his fan, and all of them move in unison to deposit the thing in a quiet corner. ]
All right, everyone, break time. Thank you for your hard work~. [ silk sheets and pillows and Getou luxuriously draped upon them, but he pulls his feet up beneath him to give Nanami room to sit, patting the spot with just a hint of playful suggestion. ]
Is that what you want to talk about? My "entrance"? [ haha. ]
[Dirty Dice is supposed to be the game with the least damning consequences for its loser. That's why Charlie settled at a table with some weirdly giddy looking guy. Should the man's demeanor be foreboding? Maybe - but he'll accept a certain amount of risk to make a new acquaintance.
And then he gets slapped upside the fucking head.
Still maybe less awful than losing all of his chips or being mandated to perform a tedious sexual task, but-
He's absolutely going to complain.
Charlie's voice snaps - high pitched - in a startled yell before he raises a hand in reflex to his battered ear. Really, his hair style has suffered more than his body. There isn't even any reddning left in the blow's wake.] What the hell are you doin'!? You wanna fuckin-
[No. Actually. There's a better way to deal with this. Charlie's griping shifts to a grin sharp with solely devious intent. His finger taps the dice, hard enough to roll the body part but only slide the 'slap' side-up die across the table a bit.
Slap Thigh]
Gimme your leg- [He could reach under the table and complete the task, but this isn't about the dice. Charlie's blood roils with the need for obedience atop of petty violence. Besides, if this guy stretches his thigh out from under the table, Charlie can get better momentum to hit it harder.]
[ ohoho, what a reaction. it draws Getou's attention ever so slightly more, a subtle pitch forward of his chest that shifts in the lapel of his suit jacket — predator observing prey. that mussed hair and hot expression are a better fit for this pale and ghoulish man anyway. ]
[ and then it passes for this cheap ploy. Getou observes as the dice clatter or slide, a tilt to his head, a passive presence compared to the flurry. rather than dignify Charlie with a response, one hand raises, square palm flagging the attendant who's been watching on anyway. ]
Excuuuuse meeeee, [ his voice pitches up into something nasally in spite of its natural rich depth, obnoxious as all get out, teacher's pet tattling on the class clown. ] Is that in the ruuuuuuules?
[ the clerk checks something on his own watch — perhaps replaying security footage of Charlie's antics. the other guests at their table wait with bated breath: will they get to see this handsome young man's muscular, tanned thighs redden deliciously in the shape of a handprint, or something even more exciting? ]
[ "I'm sorry, sir, but the dice must fully leave the table's surface in order to be 'rolled'," comes the verdict... ]
[ and all Getou does is smile in that smug, self-satisfied way he has, resting his chin on a fist propped on an elbow, looking at Charlie through dark eyelashes. ]
[The clap's acoustics are perfect. A man of theater of showmanship would sit in awe of such a perfect reverberation of sound as it is precisely what the audience would want.
Granted, stage hits are telegraphed. Clearly practiced exchanges so that the two participants could roll with the act again and again- This smack held no such fantasy. Instead a crack of sharp pain sends Baptiste's eyes wide. His head tilts to the side - body so accustomed to performance that it still reacts in a way to give every gawker exactly what they'd expect: an overacted sway and the tilts of a head. Mouth frozen in a perfect circle, his lashes flutter before he slowly turns to glance to the man at who had dove into action before Baptiste could even bother to read the dice on the table.
He smiles as he takes the dice in hand and begins to shake them.]
You're all in, aren't you? What a dedicated player!
[Baptiste throws the dice - hoping for something far more retaliatory than he would receive. He tempers his disappointment with the ever innocuous CARESS NOSE makes an appearance. Not to be upstaged, he commits quickly - leaning over to drag his second knuckle down the bridge Getou's nose. He disconnects at the tip with a flourish - lips pressing together to blow a kiss.
... Nah, even behind his showman ship, there's a spark of yearning annoyance for petty revenge.]
[ it’s there: palpable but not obvious, how he's found the flesh and wormed his way in, all the more irritating and dangerous when given into the itch. the opportunity for quick comeuppance passes with a milquetoast new command, and he meets that showmanship as he tilts his head back and flutters his eyelashes closed — an animal relishing in an intimate, trusted pet. ]
[ Getou may not have made acting a personal passion, but it’s not for lack of skill. he bows his head in a show of good sportsmanship as the game moves on and awaits his turn to come back around. though they can choose anyone in the circle to dote their dice-decided devotions upon, his roll reveals PINCH LIPS, and he once again strikes out with a preying mantis-quick snatch of clamping Baptiste’s lips shut. ]
[ some pinch — he displays no intention of letting go through a big, winsome smile. ]
[Scott doesn't think he really can lose this game, not if he wants to end up cutting on his already small budget for food or just have a lot more sex. Neither option is very appealing right now, so guess he really needs to put a lot of focus into this game. The teen sitting across from him is certainly polite, although completely unfamiliar, and fuck, it's not like he wants to really take chips from him either. Unless he's swimming in money. Then, that's okay.
But hard to tell.
Honestly, it's really hard to get any clear opinion on him. He seems friendly enough, but there's definitely undoubtedly tired in his eyes when he looks at him from across the table (and at least Scott can see that much, he knows his glasses hides most of his expression on a constant basis). The answer that he eventually gives is maybe a little surprising, a small frown tugging at the corner of Scott's mouth.]
People who are strong should protect those that can't defend themselves.
sorry for the delay! my week's had hospital visits & pet (not mine) deaths; i hope yours is better!
[ it’s a fair response — one he expected, and almost feels relieved, to hear. ]
[ almost. ]
[ he espoused it once himself, lauded that same moral high ground without impunity: he rebelled for it, bled for it, believed in it… until it killed someone he wanted to protect, until it began to wring dry the only best friend he’d ever had, until he realized that everyone he cared about, the strong people with whom he surrounded himself, would all die a slow and miserable death — ]
[ all thanks to the weak populace. ]
Why? [ he isn’t defensive or pompous in the question. if anything, maybe Scott can explain him to himself — ] Scientists are required to risk infection to save diseased rats?
If a society culled the weak, wouldn’t it be that much stronger for it, overall?
( despite his whining argument--and despite the staff member at the front entertaining it, at least for a little while--his second trip into the lovers' hideaway sticks him with an ace of diamonds, something that he wants to stuff into his pocket, fold up and toss away. now that he understands a little better what's meant to happen, here, he's not pleased: and it's obvious, in the way that he eases towards the edges of the room, scoping out the occupants with the reliance on his technique, rather than actual sight. he could easily get up and leave, but that feels too much like losing; so he slings his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and waits. if he's lucky, maybe he'll catch someone he knows, someone he's comfortable with, someone who might be interested in him.
and if he's unlucky--well, what does luck make of something like this? it's hard to say.
the smell of his cursed energy is first, but that feels like the resort punishing him, somehow; when there's a little feather tap on his shoulder, the pressure neat and succinct, he holds his breath. the six eyes wouldn't lie, and neither would the rest of him, which knows suguru better than, at times, he knows himself. when he turns, the elation and surprise and bitter hurt in his gaze is at least masked behind the sunglasses; his lips curl up into a smile instead. )
Are you really asking me that? Suguru. ( he knows that he technically has to--or at least, that's the rule of this place, right? so he does it partly, a dip of his weight down onto one knee, like he's offering a proposal, rather than something more nefarious. )
Where have you been? ( he finally says, in a hiss--almost a pout, almost a flood of relief. ) It's been so long.
[ it’s better this way, isn’t it? to find him in a quiet parlor that encourages even more sequestering — that Getou should have such a firm hand on their reunion, a wound better salted by sweat than tears. they’ve always been like that, communicating in words that don’t get said, pretending he can’t see the lance of pain in a gaze poorly hidden by sunglasses. ]
Satoru. [ sweet parroting, eyes and mouth both curved, but there’s a pinch in his brows that betrays a guilt as deep as the bone-chill seemingly being a statue has left in him. his body yearns for the heat of another — ]
[ but his self-control has always been especially good around Gojou, hasn’t it? by necessity. he exerts it now when he resists touching him to confirm his corporeality: just how long has he been here? instead, the feathered end of the toy touches the underside of his jaw, keeping his gaze tilted up at him, heaven-eyes meeting honey. ]
Knees. Plural. [ this, first. obedience is the name of the game, and Getou has never let Gojou get away with bending any rules. ]
[ The man on the receiving end of that feather slowly turns his head. A scruff of blond hair preludes amber eyes with purple-hue exhaustion bagged beneath them, a straight nose, and thin lips faintly downturned. He blinks, slowly, observing the length of the younger guest’s tickler before flicking up to his eyes. Their heights are extremely comparable if not the exact same, putting the both of them a head above most of the other guests in the room.
Though troublesome, Quincy hadn’t removed the damning Ace of Clubs card from where the game manager pinned it to his chest. Playing hadn’t crossed his mind anyway—his intention in entering this secluded place had been solely to find a quiet spot to sleep. Which is why his first instinct is to say no and continue on his way to blissful unconsciousness, one he pauses in and swallows with the understanding that refusing to adhere to the rules could very well get him kicked out and sent back into that menagerie of people. This is, undoubtedly, the lesser evil. ]
… If that’s what you want me to do.
[ The other man’s card hasn’t gone unnoticed. After flickering down to it, the forest guardian’s eyes slide back up. The gaze from one of the staff sizing up their interaction is intense from across the room; the hulking man sighs, resigned to his temporary fate. All for the sake of a blissful nap afterwards. Perhaps, even, a comfy pillow.
A large gem-embedded hand raises as he scratches his neck, veins rippling beneath thick forearm and bicep. Light eyelashes lower in another moment of contemplation, gazing at the youth before him in stoic inscrutability. Nothing voiced, in the end. Instead, he nods toward the feather wand with his chin. ]
Here?
[ They’re still in the main area where everyone is mingling and looking for partners, but that still feels like less of a hassle than going back to the casino. Without prompting, the forest guardian unbuttons the top three buttons of the white dress up shirt that had been given to him by staff—which had been too small anyway, tight across his shoulders and muscular chest. Cotton parts to reveal sun-kissed tan, a rich color only earned by spending a deal of time outside. Scars ripple across hard muscle as the top of his pecs strain against the fourth button, left in place. ]
[ molasses. the amber colors, sun-dripping warmth, the pace with which he makes the decision that just almost dries up even Getou’s great well of patience — and then the acquiescence. he doesn’t quash the appreciative quirk of his mouth, nor the way his eyes dance over all that is Quincy: hulking, bulk barely fettered away in clothing he peels back, the unique jewelry that adorns from finger to forearm. there’s something so anachronistic about it, about him, that Getou can’t help but want to be immersed in the mystery. ]
[ and that stoic expression… what absolute catnip. he wants to watch it break. ]
Is “here” a problem? [ its inquiry is genuine; he’s not such a pusher that he would disregard the preference, but what flesh doesn’t feel the heat of his gaze is instead sensitized by the oh-so-faint trickle of pinions: Quincy had gestured with his chin and it’s here that they touch down, dancing on invisible air currents and seemingly drawn to the stickiness of skin. right down the center, the tickling tips move over a thick neck, adams apple, between the divot of strong collarbones. bold colors that look good next to each other, the blush-love red bringing out all of that saturation. ]
[ it isn’t so much that he actually has the desire to turn this into a public act; only that the game of chicken is full of bawdy enticement, and the first leverage he volleys against that immaculate poker face. the swell of a deep barreled chest parted open holds his attention as he moves over it with such extremely gentle care… ]
I’m not the only one looking at you like this, can’t you tell? [ just the only one, it seems, brave enough to act on it, and Getou has always considered himself a magnanimous man of the people. ]
[ 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. ]
[ a voice that brings about such a heel turn from him that the coquette guest he’d just saved is left reeling — immediately forgotten, discarded as well as if Getou had let her fall through his arms all the way to the floor. Shouko’s glitzy dress sparkles in wide eyes, lighting a smile just shy of flabbergasted. accustomed enough to her habitual smoking, his big callused hand finds the one she’s tucked against herself, as if knowing its peculiarity in spite of his ignorance in its reason — ]
Shouuu~ko. Don’t you look lovely.
[ and with it, he gives her such a twirl that the light bounces every which way across her, bobbed hair floating and falling in the momentum of it. there are eyes still on him, but he’s turned her into the belle of the ball by association, laserlike focus, rich laughter. has he ever even seen her in a proper dress? not something so formal surely, and he delights in its novelty. ]
…Mm, well. It’s a big hotel, I’m sure they had me on display somewhere you just kept missing. [ anyone but Ieiri and Gojou and he wouldn’t be so keen to confess months spent trapped in marble, but though a liar he may be by default, there are those for whom he has enough respect and affection to be honest — for the most part. ]
[ no lighter, no teeth, no manic commitment to pure genocide, just the weight he hasn’t regained and blotting of purple that has yet to fade from beneath his eyes in spite of what must have presumably been slumber but felt more like being trapped in a domain that pressed stone against his skin. ]
[ There are all sorts of naught games and opulent treats at the party, but Seimei simply hates to be summoned. Even in the grand days of Heian-Kyo, he had gotten a reputation of being that stubborn, uncanny thing, that near-beast that only the Mikado could convince to work his magic. And only barely. So out of sheer intractability he mostly avoids the fanfare and games that cause too much fuss, keeping to himself and picking out people to bother on his own terms.
He's drinking tea at a spot to the side of the palanquin's path when the crowd makes its way through, reserved and tidy as if he truly doesn't belong. Always just because he can. The chosen king is swatting off his admirers with a golden fan from the seat, brushing away their cries for attention, and soaking up their desperation with a petty satisfaction that gives the whole display a certain familiar energy. It causes a single word to bubble up in the fox's mind as the King calls out to him.
Mononoke.
Seimei looks over the rim of his tea cup, sipping quietly almost as if he can't hear the young man through the pleading of his followers. Then he lowers the drink and smiles brightly at him, calling back with a soft tone that somehow seems to carry itself over the throngs like a small bird, bringing the words straight to Getou's ears. ]
Oh? Is the great lord offering a reward? But you'll have to be more specific about your offer if you want my assistance, I'm afraid. My wares are quite expensive, Young Master.
[ words that caress the shell of his ear like a blush of wind or pass of down feather, soft but purposeful — and obvious in its purpose. Getou thinks about whether or not to rise to the bait, head tilted on an invisible axis, mouth a question of whether or not he should flash the bloody chicken coop in his teeth. thankfully for Seimei, he likes some kickback. the world would be boring without dissent. ]
I'd argue the service provider should name his price... [ instead, this, the thoughtful stroke of a chin that pulls into resignation. ] But I did offer.
[ responsibility taken, the bargaining begins. how to flatter a fox into a menial task? ]
Outside of the joy of the thing, [ who doesn't love telling obnoxious people off, ] you could, of course, piggyback off of my current status... Don't you like the idea of being the one I chose out of this flock, hm?
[ he's pretty enough. familiar enough. Getou recalls — vague and distant, not disliking this. he smiles, ]
Leaving that damn party had been impossible, with every attempt to escape 168 hours of hell thwarted by one thing or another. Endless socialization is a thousand times worse than fighting demons; by the time they finally ended the party, he had gone without sleep for so long that he was seeing double.
Genya groans, smothering his face into his pillow and turning over in a bodily toss to burrow into the blankets. Comfortable familiar room and comfortable familiar bed. Comfortable familiar warm body—wait, what the fuck?
The youth’s eyes shoot open in alarm after snuggling against someone else. Who???? In his bed????? He doesn’t even remember—!?
He sits up abruptly, picture of a cat whose tail has been stepped on. Who!!!!!!! ]
[ in like a lion, out like a lamb. the glitz and glam had shooting star-rocketed right out of him, going going going until gone. dizzying arrays of sparkling lights, energizing smoke, tingling champagne, and the rollercoaster ride of big wins and bigger losses exchanged for this gem of peace and quiet tucked away in some room or another. earned but not deserved, his broad and strong form gone to sweet curve in the thin white sheet draped over him Genya disturbs as he shoots up like he’s been shot at, positing dark skin and darker shadows where he’s bare and intimate against not just the fabric… ]
[ but Genya’s skin, too, warmed and rouged with the print of where his cheek had been on a deep, x-scarred chest. if that doesn’t bring familiarity back from the deep recesses of absenteeism, perhaps the elegant-but-messy fall and curl of hair freed from its usual bun cascading down the pillow and around his face would be easy to envision wet and limp in a bath’s humidity, as an assist. ]
[ for Getou, he doesn’t immediately rise, though the sudden flux of cool air where once a body was pressed and a sheet embraced them both comes with a vocalized alert: a gasp and moan that are just suggestive enough as he turns into it. a stretching hand reaches over the dent of heat next to him that the slayer’s body has left behind, plaintive yearning that comes out in instinct not so easily displayed in the daylight… ]
[ only to still again, mouth peacefully agape and that handsome face relaxed, defenseless. if once he was a devil on Genya’s shoulder, does the absence of his antics make for something beguiling and haloed? to let the opportunity pass? only Genya can decide. ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
getou suguru, jujutsu kaisen, returning player
BUBBLY
[ well, he cleans up nice, at least. from being trapped in a car in nothing but a robe to only able to find lost and found dredges, he’s finally able to work his way into a fine wardrobe for a suit and tie and a little gel to tie his flyaways back. it’s enough to get into the party without coming out looking like a disco ball. ][ oh look at that, people are floating. this wasn’t new to Getou well before he knew of Golden Peacock, and just seems to watch on with amusement as those who’ve indulged their libations float and drift blissfully… at least, until there’s a cry ringing out across all the other noise and a body quick to hit the floor! ]
[ ever the hero, he hangs close by and catches those who get caught off guard by the bubble bursting, so to speak. maybe he’ll catch you bridal-style! or maybe he’s speaking to someone at that exact moment, so you’ll land on a flying pink mantaray. either way, there’s someone to thank for your near miss! ]
You alright?
DIRTY DICE
[ there’s a… fond? laugh that spills out of him when he lands at a table with Dirty Dice, a bit of giddy joy that’s just a little more than the situation calls for, something too easily read as mischief or perversion. he watches the other players at the table take their turns, unblinking, accustomed to the display in spite of his wildcard status. “suck thigh”, “tickle elbow”, yes yes. ][ when the dice are pooled up in the center of his big palm, he tosses them across the surface of the table, watching it clatter off of snacks and drinks. when it lands, the command says simply: SLAP EAR ]
[ there isn’t even a heartbeat’s worth of time to digest the command before he’s smacking the person sitting right next to him upside the head with such a clap that it turns every head for several tables nearby. ]
…Your turn. [ he’s all smiles~. ]
SPIN THE WHEEL’S KING FOR A DAY
[ the only thing worse than a sore loser is a mean winner. he’d spun the wheel and, as luck would have it after some of his very worst, it’d landed on #5: an insta-prize. he’d been given the rundown of available options with a game show host’s enthusiasm – and that level of fanfare has yet to cease as he’s carted around on a palanquin by a slew of half-dressed workers. little does he know just how well he’d get used to living a life of worship. ][ impossible to know how long he’s been here or how much longer he will be, best to make the most of it. there’s plenty he’s dined on already: sweet and strong drinks, spicy smoke, succulent meals and saccharine desserts. he’s more prone to being disciplined than hedonistic, but sometimes there’s a new years party and young adult hormones and their rebellion encourage playing with fire, and enough worship will go to anyone’s head… especially when it wasn’t especially small in the first place. ]
[ some lower rank guests are pawing at the edge of his palanquin as it makes the rounds – anything for royal attention. he had a golden fan he’s using to smack the backs of their hands like some stuck-up royalty, but it’s more dissuading than an outright ceasefire. it isn’t long before, the role as he plays it, he’ll get someone else to do it: ]
You, there– [ a wave wave wave of his fan that’s less a greeting and more of a command: come here. ] Get rid of these rats for me? I’ll reward you~.
[ to offer the same prize those little rodents crave is just spiteful. ]
HOUSE OF CARDS
[ he approaches the table and does little more than lock eyes with another guest – but their watches connect, and they get labeled Player 1 and Player 2 before anyone can possibly protest. it isn’t that Getou’s so keen to win (though he certainly doesn’t hate it) as much as he’s increasingly aware that the House will dole its punishments and penalties as it pleases. ][ finally, takes a bow to his opponent – ] Please treat me kindly. [ – before he draws a card with little difficulty and reads the prompt. ]
What should the golden rule of any society be?
[ …it’s hard to say what he’s thinking or feeling, through that soft grin. hard to know if it touches his eyes while he has them closed pensively, but when he looks up again there’s something tired in his eyes, like he’s looking at a mountain he’s just never quite been able to scale: ]
I’m not sure I’m able to answer this right now… [ and that’s the crux of the thing, isn’t it? getou suguru has never been indecisive in his life. ] But I think perhaps… people who are weak should simply stay out of the way.
1 OR 11 (DOMINANT)
[ ace of hearts. the game manager tucks the card in his breast pocket as to put it on display for others – and if that weren’t enough, hands him a feather wand: good for sensations of all kind. still, he can’t say he’s unsatisfied with his allotment, learning his way around the new tool with a few beats against his palm. ][ there’s no point in being particular, not when he’s the one in control, or at least that’s how he thinks on it. may as well get used to it and see who’s up to play ball… so really any submissive who crosses his path will get a feather tap on the shoulder. ]
Hi. [ it’s good to be polite! ] Wanna get on your knees for me~?
[ it’s still a bit embarrassing, but he’s got a fox-sharp curiosity and playfulness about the whole thing. ]
OTHER –
[ open to wildcards! feel free to PM; kinklist on journal. i was here previously and am happy to continue cr or start fresh, whatever you prefer! getou is 18. ]dirty dice
Frankly, he looks like a creep, anime nosebleed and all. )
My, that's quite the arm you have.
( It is absolutely his turn to roll the die, but he has been thoroughly distracted. )
Are you sure it connected with my ear? My hair was in the way, so maybe you should try it again.
( That absolutely contradicts with the reddening of his skin around his ear and cheek. His hair was not in the way. )
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[ well, this can't be all today unusual of a person to have in a casino of debauchery. even with the politeness of the request, it's enough to make those with a weaker constitution squirm and shirk. thankfully, Getou is not among them. the politeness is met — with just an ever so subtle glint of malice in sly eyes. ]
[ Jae Ha has asked the right person, ]
Don't you think that would be inconsiderate to our fellow players?
[ in the wrong circumstance. ]
I don't want to cause bitterness or jealousy. Here.
[ gathering the dice from the table, he takes up one of Jae Ha's hands and places them in his palm, closing his fingers over them with a tenderness, both hands clasped over his. ]
Roll, roll~. Perhaps your performance will impress someone, and all your wishes will be fulfilled. [ heheheh that cheekprint ♥ ]
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But, for now, it's his turn to roll. When he does, he gets BITE and THIGH.
The result has him looking in faux innocence at Suguru once more. )
I believe I'm meant to do this on skin. Don't you think?
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house of cards
it's the response that makes that smile on his face fade into uncertainty. ]
And what makes people weak?
[ does robin look weak? at least his voice isn't trembling and his posture hasn't changed. he's genuinely curious despite the questioning tone... ]
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[ though, that's all the fault of one man alone, isn't it? Getou's smile goes tight, his eyes cold. everyone is weak compared to him. ]
Is the definition of "weakness" not ubiquitous? [ seems to be the only clarity he cares to offer, and without empathy to Robin's concerns, his obvious small stature. he places the card with the question near him, starting a discard pile, excessively neat and careful with its arrangement. ]
[ he's answered the demands of the game; he needn't indulge a stranger to continue, and so waits with impassive patience. ]
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still, he can't help but get a Feeling... ]
My turn then. [ obviously. not one to be self-conscious, robin's still feeling the flutters of something in his chest. those fingers of his tremble very slightly while he takes a card closer to the top, not wanting to appear nervous. ]
Um. "What's the biggest risk you've ever taken in your life?"
[ robin hums, something soft and lyrical. ]
I gave up my mortality so I could have an eternity with my brother. I think that's a pretty big risk.
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king for a day
Neither the designated minion, nor one of the status seekers, Nanami is still making his way through the crowd toward the familiar figure on the palanquin when the order is issued. He hears it though (winces a little, internally—at least it wasn't "monkeys") and quickens his steps to break through the people milling around on the opposite side.]
Why don't I disperse them instead? We should talk, anyway.
[Seven may be the bottom of the mid-ranks, but it's still higher status than most of these groupies can claim. His tall, broad physique and the black patch over his left eye, matching the rest of his black tie attire, also adds to his intimidation factor. It only takes a stern look and a, "Go on, find someone else to gawk at," to scatter them, some grumbling as they walk away, others casting wistful looks over their shoulders. He waits until the stragglers clear off, turning from one side to the other to make sure, before addressing Geto again.]
So, making a grand re-entrance?
[He has a knack for that, doesn't he?]
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[ all that well-muscled flesh he turns his head towards at the familiar sound. his voice isn't so very different: low and dry, joyless, gritted a bit more with age but identifiable. it feels like that's all that remains familiar, and golden eyes take a moment to adjust, pupils lens-flickering into recognition. ]
Nanami-kun. [ the honorific is simultaneously natural and odd, now. his eyes linger meaningfully on the one missing, his fingers twitching, moving between them with some desire to do... something. after a beat, it withdraws, seeming to think better of invading personal space. instead, he taps a palanquin holder's head twice with his fan, and all of them move in unison to deposit the thing in a quiet corner. ]
All right, everyone, break time. Thank you for your hard work~. [ silk sheets and pillows and Getou luxuriously draped upon them, but he pulls his feet up beneath him to give Nanami room to sit, patting the spot with just a hint of playful suggestion. ]
Is that what you want to talk about? My "entrance"? [ haha. ]
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dirty dice
And then he gets slapped upside the fucking head.
Still maybe less awful than losing all of his chips or being mandated to perform a tedious sexual task, but-
He's absolutely going to complain.
Charlie's voice snaps - high pitched - in a startled yell before he raises a hand in reflex to his battered ear. Really, his hair style has suffered more than his body. There isn't even any reddning left in the blow's wake.] What the hell are you doin'!? You wanna fuckin-
[No. Actually. There's a better way to deal with this. Charlie's griping shifts to a grin sharp with solely devious intent. His finger taps the dice, hard enough to roll the body part but only slide the 'slap' side-up die across the table a bit.
Slap Thigh]
Gimme your leg- [He could reach under the table and complete the task, but this isn't about the dice. Charlie's blood roils with the need for obedience atop of petty violence. Besides, if this guy stretches his thigh out from under the table, Charlie can get better momentum to hit it harder.]
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[ and then it passes for this cheap ploy. Getou observes as the dice clatter or slide, a tilt to his head, a passive presence compared to the flurry. rather than dignify Charlie with a response, one hand raises, square palm flagging the attendant who's been watching on anyway. ]
Excuuuuse meeeee, [ his voice pitches up into something nasally in spite of its natural rich depth, obnoxious as all get out, teacher's pet tattling on the class clown. ] Is that in the ruuuuuuules?
[ the clerk checks something on his own watch — perhaps replaying security footage of Charlie's antics. the other guests at their table wait with bated breath: will they get to see this handsome young man's muscular, tanned thighs redden deliciously in the shape of a handprint, or something even more exciting? ]
[ "I'm sorry, sir, but the dice must fully leave the table's surface in order to be 'rolled'," comes the verdict... ]
[ and all Getou does is smile in that smug, self-satisfied way he has, resting his chin on a fist propped on an elbow, looking at Charlie through dark eyelashes. ]
Again, again~.
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dirty dice
Granted, stage hits are telegraphed. Clearly practiced exchanges so that the two participants could roll with the act again and again- This smack held no such fantasy. Instead a crack of sharp pain sends Baptiste's eyes wide. His head tilts to the side - body so accustomed to performance that it still reacts in a way to give every gawker exactly what they'd expect: an overacted sway and the tilts of a head. Mouth frozen in a perfect circle, his lashes flutter before he slowly turns to glance to the man at who had dove into action before Baptiste could even bother to read the dice on the table.
He smiles as he takes the dice in hand and begins to shake them.]
You're all in, aren't you? What a dedicated player!
[Baptiste throws the dice - hoping for something far more retaliatory than he would receive. He tempers his disappointment with the ever innocuous CARESS NOSE makes an appearance. Not to be upstaged, he commits quickly - leaning over to drag his second knuckle down the bridge Getou's nose. He disconnects at the tip with a flourish - lips pressing together to blow a kiss.
... Nah, even behind his showman ship, there's a spark of yearning annoyance for petty revenge.]
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[ it’s there: palpable but not obvious, how he's found the flesh and wormed his way in, all the more irritating and dangerous when given into the itch. the opportunity for quick comeuppance passes with a milquetoast new command, and he meets that showmanship as he tilts his head back and flutters his eyelashes closed — an animal relishing in an intimate, trusted pet. ]
[ Getou may not have made acting a personal passion, but it’s not for lack of skill. he bows his head in a show of good sportsmanship as the game moves on and awaits his turn to come back around. though they can choose anyone in the circle to dote their dice-decided devotions upon, his roll reveals PINCH LIPS, and he once again strikes out with a preying mantis-quick snatch of clamping Baptiste’s lips shut. ]
[ some pinch — he displays no intention of letting go through a big, winsome smile. ]
…Your mustache tickles. [ haha. ]
house of cards;
But hard to tell.
Honestly, it's really hard to get any clear opinion on him. He seems friendly enough, but there's definitely undoubtedly tired in his eyes when he looks at him from across the table (and at least Scott can see that much, he knows his glasses hides most of his expression on a constant basis). The answer that he eventually gives is maybe a little surprising, a small frown tugging at the corner of Scott's mouth.]
People who are strong should protect those that can't defend themselves.
sorry for the delay! my week's had hospital visits & pet (not mine) deaths; i hope yours is better!
[ almost. ]
[ he espoused it once himself, lauded that same moral high ground without impunity: he rebelled for it, bled for it, believed in it… until it killed someone he wanted to protect, until it began to wring dry the only best friend he’d ever had, until he realized that everyone he cared about, the strong people with whom he surrounded himself, would all die a slow and miserable death — ]
[ all thanks to the weak populace. ]
Why? [ he isn’t defensive or pompous in the question. if anything, maybe Scott can explain him to himself — ] Scientists are required to risk infection to save diseased rats?
If a society culled the weak, wouldn’t it be that much stronger for it, overall?
no problem!
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1 or 11
and if he's unlucky--well, what does luck make of something like this? it's hard to say.
the smell of his cursed energy is first, but that feels like the resort punishing him, somehow; when there's a little feather tap on his shoulder, the pressure neat and succinct, he holds his breath. the six eyes wouldn't lie, and neither would the rest of him, which knows suguru better than, at times, he knows himself. when he turns, the elation and surprise and bitter hurt in his gaze is at least masked behind the sunglasses; his lips curl up into a smile instead. )
Are you really asking me that? Suguru. ( he knows that he technically has to--or at least, that's the rule of this place, right? so he does it partly, a dip of his weight down onto one knee, like he's offering a proposal, rather than something more nefarious. )
Where have you been? ( he finally says, in a hiss--almost a pout, almost a flood of relief. ) It's been so long.
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Satoru. [ sweet parroting, eyes and mouth both curved, but there’s a pinch in his brows that betrays a guilt as deep as the bone-chill seemingly being a statue has left in him. his body yearns for the heat of another — ]
[ but his self-control has always been especially good around Gojou, hasn’t it? by necessity. he exerts it now when he resists touching him to confirm his corporeality: just how long has he been here? instead, the feathered end of the toy touches the underside of his jaw, keeping his gaze tilted up at him, heaven-eyes meeting honey. ]
Knees. Plural. [ this, first. obedience is the name of the game, and Getou has never let Gojou get away with bending any rules. ]
1 or 11, as a treat 💕
Though troublesome, Quincy hadn’t removed the damning Ace of Clubs card from where the game manager pinned it to his chest. Playing hadn’t crossed his mind anyway—his intention in entering this secluded place had been solely to find a quiet spot to sleep. Which is why his first instinct is to say no and continue on his way to blissful unconsciousness, one he pauses in and swallows with the understanding that refusing to adhere to the rules could very well get him kicked out and sent back into that menagerie of people. This is, undoubtedly, the lesser evil. ]
… If that’s what you want me to do.
[ The other man’s card hasn’t gone unnoticed. After flickering down to it, the forest guardian’s eyes slide back up. The gaze from one of the staff sizing up their interaction is intense from across the room; the hulking man sighs, resigned to his temporary fate. All for the sake of a blissful nap afterwards. Perhaps, even, a comfy pillow.
A large gem-embedded hand raises as he scratches his neck, veins rippling beneath thick forearm and bicep. Light eyelashes lower in another moment of contemplation, gazing at the youth before him in stoic inscrutability. Nothing voiced, in the end. Instead, he nods toward the feather wand with his chin. ]
Here?
[ They’re still in the main area where everyone is mingling and looking for partners, but that still feels like less of a hassle than going back to the casino. Without prompting, the forest guardian unbuttons the top three buttons of the white dress up shirt that had been given to him by staff—which had been too small anyway, tight across his shoulders and muscular chest. Cotton parts to reveal sun-kissed tan, a rich color only earned by spending a deal of time outside. Scars ripple across hard muscle as the top of his pecs strain against the fourth button, left in place. ]
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[ and that stoic expression… what absolute catnip. he wants to watch it break. ]
Is “here” a problem? [ its inquiry is genuine; he’s not such a pusher that he would disregard the preference, but what flesh doesn’t feel the heat of his gaze is instead sensitized by the oh-so-faint trickle of pinions: Quincy had gestured with his chin and it’s here that they touch down, dancing on invisible air currents and seemingly drawn to the stickiness of skin. right down the center, the tickling tips move over a thick neck, adams apple, between the divot of strong collarbones. bold colors that look good next to each other, the blush-love red bringing out all of that saturation. ]
[ it isn’t so much that he actually has the desire to turn this into a public act; only that the game of chicken is full of bawdy enticement, and the first leverage he volleys against that immaculate poker face. the swell of a deep barreled chest parted open holds his attention as he moves over it with such extremely gentle care… ]
I’m not the only one looking at you like this, can’t you tell? [ just the only one, it seems, brave enough to act on it, and Getou has always considered himself a magnanimous man of the people. ]
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bubbly
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. ]
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Shouuu~ko. Don’t you look lovely.
[ and with it, he gives her such a twirl that the light bounces every which way across her, bobbed hair floating and falling in the momentum of it. there are eyes still on him, but he’s turned her into the belle of the ball by association, laserlike focus, rich laughter. has he ever even seen her in a proper dress? not something so formal surely, and he delights in its novelty. ]
…Mm, well. It’s a big hotel, I’m sure they had me on display somewhere you just kept missing. [ anyone but Ieiri and Gojou and he wouldn’t be so keen to confess months spent trapped in marble, but though a liar he may be by default, there are those for whom he has enough respect and affection to be honest — for the most part. ]
[ no lighter, no teeth, no manic commitment to pure genocide, just the weight he hasn’t regained and blotting of purple that has yet to fade from beneath his eyes in spite of what must have presumably been slumber but felt more like being trapped in a domain that pressed stone against his skin. ]
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Spin the Wheel
He's drinking tea at a spot to the side of the palanquin's path when the crowd makes its way through, reserved and tidy as if he truly doesn't belong. Always just because he can. The chosen king is swatting off his admirers with a golden fan from the seat, brushing away their cries for attention, and soaking up their desperation with a petty satisfaction that gives the whole display a certain familiar energy. It causes a single word to bubble up in the fox's mind as the King calls out to him.
Mononoke.
Seimei looks over the rim of his tea cup, sipping quietly almost as if he can't hear the young man through the pleading of his followers. Then he lowers the drink and smiles brightly at him, calling back with a soft tone that somehow seems to carry itself over the throngs like a small bird, bringing the words straight to Getou's ears. ]
Oh? Is the great lord offering a reward? But you'll have to be more specific about your offer if you want my assistance, I'm afraid. My wares are quite expensive, Young Master.
[ It looks like someone is having too much fun. ]
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I'd argue the service provider should name his price... [ instead, this, the thoughtful stroke of a chin that pulls into resignation. ] But I did offer.
[ responsibility taken, the bargaining begins. how to flatter a fox into a menial task? ]
Outside of the joy of the thing, [ who doesn't love telling obnoxious people off, ] you could, of course, piggyback off of my current status... Don't you like the idea of being the one I chose out of this flock, hm?
[ he's pretty enough. familiar enough. Getou recalls — vague and distant, not disliking this. he smiles, ]
King's Pet for an evening?
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wildcarding some aftercare 😌
Leaving that damn party had been impossible, with every attempt to escape 168 hours of hell thwarted by one thing or another. Endless socialization is a thousand times worse than fighting demons; by the time they finally ended the party, he had gone without sleep for so long that he was seeing double.
Genya groans, smothering his face into his pillow and turning over in a bodily toss to burrow into the blankets. Comfortable familiar room and comfortable familiar bed. Comfortable familiar warm body—wait, what the fuck?
The youth’s eyes shoot open in alarm after snuggling against someone else. Who???? In his bed????? He doesn’t even remember—!?
He sits up abruptly, picture of a cat whose tail has been stepped on. Who!!!!!!! ]
we're so back baby
[ but Genya’s skin, too, warmed and rouged with the print of where his cheek had been on a deep, x-scarred chest. if that doesn’t bring familiarity back from the deep recesses of absenteeism, perhaps the elegant-but-messy fall and curl of hair freed from its usual bun cascading down the pillow and around his face would be easy to envision wet and limp in a bath’s humidity, as an assist. ]
[ for Getou, he doesn’t immediately rise, though the sudden flux of cool air where once a body was pressed and a sheet embraced them both comes with a vocalized alert: a gasp and moan that are just suggestive enough as he turns into it. a stretching hand reaches over the dent of heat next to him that the slayer’s body has left behind, plaintive yearning that comes out in instinct not so easily displayed in the daylight… ]
[ only to still again, mouth peacefully agape and that handsome face relaxed, defenseless. if once he was a devil on Genya’s shoulder, does the absence of his antics make for something beguiling and haloed? to let the opportunity pass? only Genya can decide. ]
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