【 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.
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▶ 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.
[ 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. ]
DIRTY DICE
[ 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 ~
HOUSE OF CARDS
[ 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.
AFTERCARE
[ 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...
WILDCARD
[ 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. ]
(having had found herself involved in these "festivities", it would come as no surprise that arlecchino was not attempting to leave the party. unlike tharja, she knows quite well how to handle herself during one. she mingles, she talks, and she idly drinks her champagne without much thought. the crowd avoids this one. the staff has been (aside from what times she's called them over) particularly careful about seeing her, too. what a strange yet well-dressed woman to cause the crowds to avoid her. like something hangs over her, unseen and perpetual.
she says nothing else to the guests, to the few that dared to speak to her outside of indulgence in their questions. questions, discovering that she is quite intelligent, and her own curiosities on what she can grasp of their current situation. a lengthy party was not her ideal scene, but she's capable of making most things work while on the floor. perhaps even while stuck in this long party they're in.
tharja had caught her attention naturally, it's part of why she found herself there while looking at the die in thought. interesting twist, isn't it? she's nursing her own champagne before they're rolled and....then staring blankly. really? fondle her nose? she does frown about it, those odd and rather frightening pupils of hers glow for the moment in the dim light in this parlor they're in.)
And how exactly, pray tell, does fondling a nose work?
(her voice is deep, commanding, frightening to the lesser experienced. something might always stick out in it, but she's curious on what the other woman could possibly mean. the closer tharja's fingers get, the more that heat within her body can be felt. strongly. almost like a broiling volcano is within her, but that's strange, isn't it?
it must be, no person runs this hot. nobody could without dying, perhaps it's a trick of the mind from the alcohol flowing through them. yes, that must be it, but arlecchino stands firmly.)
Edited (FORGOT TO ADD HER CLOTHES) 2025-01-16 21:21 (UTC)
[ Tharja had been fooling around, obviously not taking this very seriously, but the deep roll of Arlecchino finally speaking stops her in her tracks. Her hand freezes midway, which is an ironic way to phrase it because Tharja can absolutely feel the heat emanating off the other woman from that distance.
She's not frightened, no, but everything about Arlecchino sends a tickle up Tharja's spine. It's a feeling vaguely reminiscent to how she felt upon meeting Robin: the darkness of Grima's influence in the tactician calling out to her. It's not a darkness she can sense in this woman, but it's something. Foreign. Powerful.
Whatever it is, she wants to know more. Even if that means continuing this absurd game.
The corner of her lips quirk into a lopsided smile, and Tharja resumes her twiddling. ]
I imagine it's much like fondling anything else. Some heavy petting but on a smaller scale. A much smaller scale.
[ It's now or never. Tharja crosses the last infinitesimal space between them and draws a line down the bridge of the other woman's nose with two fingers.
The tremble in her touch is definitely another trick of the mind. Definitely. ]
(it's almost certainly, not what she's used to. arlecchino doesn't speak further on it (yet) since she can't say that it's not got her curiosity. how a woman like this go from what normal people might find creepy to almost seeming too surprised by her presence. or that's the impression that the knave has, strange woman. the sort of strange that gets her attention.
regardless, she doesn't see it as fear. not the tremble she feels when tharja traces along her nose. the heat is stronger along her skin, those unnatural eyes of hers follows the other woman's hand before turning her attention back to the comment about fondling her nose. heavy petting on a smaller scale, huh? she muses almost that it likely would have been different had this been somewhere more sensitive than tracing along than handsome face of hers. wickedly handsome, threatening in how her eyes seem bottomless.
then again, her wearing her hair down and straightened out might not help her case much. the heat blooms and gathers under the surface, furious heat which seems to not fade and seeps into tharja's fingers. that tremble was curious. enough that arlecchino raises a brow, but does not question it. curses are interesting, instead of something like grima? what arlecchino has goes past that. right in the blood of her ancestors, the blood she carries deep in her veins.
a curse passed down to their children if any, their descendants.)
I see. I wouldn't say that I would attempt to fondle a nose, though.
(if tharja pays more attention, she would see the champagne glass that the knave holds is almost certainly not held by a normal hand. those are claws along her fingers, skin dark like charcoal or leaning into pitch black, with markings running down her hands that are visible. the rest along her arms? those are hidden beneath her suit. not in view, but there is more cursed and blemished skin where that came from.
far too much of it. though another trick of the mind, it must be how her eyes almost glow in predatory amusement.)
[ There's a lick of heat left behind on Tharja's fingers as she draws back. Fascinating... What on earth is crawling under this woman's skin? They truly have each other's attention. ]
I wouldn't normally, either. Unless I really was trying to pull it right off. [ Pig snouts are useful in some brews. ] But I was beholden to the dice.
[ Speaking of attention: Arlecchino's odd claw has not escaped Tharja's. Before, it would have been easy to write off as manakete transformation but now that she has felt the pressure of the other woman's power... it's as fascinating as the rest of her. It's almost as if that fire burning inside of her has burnt all the way through her skin there, leaving nothing but charred remains. ]
(that she can understand, her own disposition meant that arlecchino knows of more....grim necessities. to put it simply. she's done violent acts, often with those clawed hands of hers, none of which she would be sharing. that never escapes her within a good reason (she does have children to worry about) upon setting aside her champagne flute. the die being thrown should be an easy task, whatever number she lands is what she gets to do. an easy game for someone to dip their toes into as a newcomer to this debauched and hedonistic haven.
it is amusing to think even a dynasty of khaenri'ah that was long thought dead is still burning in one woman. like the moon that haunts her dreams, that haunts her steps and clings to her like an ill omen. anyway, that clawed and twisted looking hand grabs the die and shakes it decently. the click of the die hitting one another fills the air, and once it lands on: 7 and 7. they're both fondling then, seems like, for the start. the knave isn't sure how to fondle a neck, but she did waste no time and reach to run one of those clawed fingers along tharja's neck slowly.
the burning heat of her skin broils, but rests calmly in her fingertips while doing something a little more sensual than expected. like flirting, like not flirting. she's too good at being a mystery to make that part of it evident for anyone.)
Hmm, I suppose it wasn't anywhere like the nose, then. Dice games aren't something I'm well versed in.
(much less sexual based dice games, or sex based any sort of games. sordid affairs that are like the ones on display here were something arlecchino didn't indulge in. a lot of her pleasures of the flesh were best left in private. the more intimate variety and not-so intimate variety, in particular, were part of those indulgences that the knave would afford herself from time to time.)
[It's not like Rex isn't trying to get out of there. Being a tall guy with broad shoulders, he's wedged into his seat tightly, and the seatbelt is tight across his arms, trapping him in place. He's trying to at least get an arm free, but he doesn't want to shimmy too much; the robe they gave him is about 4 sizes too small for him, and is already threatening to burst at the seams. It barely comes down enough to reach his thighs and cover the goods. All it'll take is a light breeze for her to see what he's workin with, and that's not what he's up for right now.]
I'm tryin, lass! But this doesn't want to let me go.
[Thankfully, while he's never been in a car, he has been inside a levnis, so he's familiar at least the idea of being strapped in, even if he can't reach the buckle. But her arms seem to be free.]
Can you at least unbuckle me? Then I might be able to get us out of this blasted thing.
Okay, Rex's suggestion is extremely helpful. Tharja didn't even know what she was supposed to be looking for before; now, she knows she has to look for a strap. A belt. This better not be a trick...
Because, as Tharja wordlessly sweeps her gaze over his body and leans in to feel around for the buckle at his hips, she quickly becomes aware of just how little his robe leaves to the imagination. Hers, too, for that matter. She can feel the front of her robes slip, exposing cleavage as she leans.
Urgh. Looks like she'll have to work on a memory wipe spell again. ]
Blast...
[ Focus! The buckle! She works at it a bit, squinting as it doesn't budge even under her roughest manhandling. It's not by user error this time, either. It just won't release. ]
It's stuck. Of course, it's stuck.
[ What she wouldn't give to have one of her tomes!! ]
[He doesn't move much while she tries to unbuckle him, not wanting to accidentally flash the girl. Though he does look up at the roof of the car when her robes start to slip. He stays staring at it while she works, until she gives up, after a bunch of clicking still results in him being stuck there.]
Ugh, Uraya's bollocks! [He makes a frustrated sound, before letting out a breath.] And me without my swords...
[He chances a glance at her with his one good eye.]
Don't suppose you have a knife on you somewhere...?
[ He'd been coaxed into this game by a supposedly well-meaning staff member, which is how he finds himself across from an unfamiliar woman. And trying not to breath too hard, because that tower of cards already looks precarious and they've not even started yet.
Her answer gets a bemused look from him, however, as he leans back in his chair and cocks an eyebrow at the statement. ]
Come now, that can't possibly be true. Everyone has at least a few bad habits.
[ Oh ho. Tharja mimics Sylvain's look, cocking an eyebrow right back at him. ]
It sounds like you're projecting. [ She flips the card between her fingers until finally resting it against her lips. ] I simply don't have any habits that I would consider bad.
Others may disagree, but that's no skin off my back.
Well, there's an attitude I can respect, at least.
[ Her retort surprisingly just gets an amused grin from him. It was one he frequently held himself, on certain topics. Although he has more bad habits than he can count on his fingers, really. Even according to him.
But he eyes the tower speculatively a moment, trying to gauge which would be a safe one to pick, before carefully sliding one free of the stack. he holds his breath a moment, then releases it when the whole thing doesn't immediately collapse on him. ]
Have you ever been caught sneaking outside the house? [ A blink, before he snickers. ] Does it have to have been my house I was caught sneaking out of? because if so, no, I knew every secret nook and cranny in mine, and just how to avoid being caught. Other people's houses, though...? Not so much.
[ Waking up with a pounding headache after drinking too much is business as usual for Rokurou Rangetsu. As a lightweight with a taste for good sake, he has spent many a morning nursing the residual pounding and chugging water to take the edge off.
However, he doesn’t always end up with a dark haired beauty in his bed. Sitting upright and yawning, as he goes to stretch his arms and casually looks to the side—his jaw drops.
Did he drink so much, that he doesn’t even remember her name, let alone getting into bed with her? Oh boy. It looks like that may be the case. But, as she grumbles something, he feels a blend of relief and consternation. Did she forget his name too? Fair is fair, but ouch… ]
She must be hearing things: she didn't end the night with anyone, let alone go to bed with anyone. That voice must just be another side effect of (apparently) indulging.
But as Tharja slowly comes back to herself, she can feel that tell-tale heat of another person beside her.
What.
She pushes herself up again quickly, this time swiping her hair to the side. ]
Who -- How did you get in here?! [ Wherever here is. A room, right? ]
[ The expression on his face immediately returns to stupid. His eyes dart around the room, flicking over to the familiar desk, to his shoes left by the door, and the pile of folded laundry he had done before the party started. All as it should be. Not a single sign that he’s somewhere else.
After a long, awkward silence, ]
Well, this is my room… so… [ his gaze returns to her, slinking downward slowly now that she’s gotten up from the bedding, ] … through the door?
[ He huffs, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his arms. ]
Do you really not remember me?
[ Okay. He doesn’t remember her, but she really forgot him!? ]
[ His room?? Tharja sits up further, looking around the room. It's certainly not her room - not that she ever had one. She actually doesn't even know if one had been provided to her at all, or if the hosts of this party expected guests to sleep on the party floor.
Regardless. The fact that she doesn't remember anything - especially Rokurou - is the bigger issue here. ]
I would remember you.
[ He's got a similar flicker of something that she sensed in Arlecchino. A foreign darkness. But that's it; she has no idea he's not human. ]
I don't even remember leaving. Did you bring me here?
[ Sitting across from Tharja is a boy who looks ready to bolt or pass out within the next few seconds. Maybe even both, like he'd get a few steps away from the table and then hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Though with how he jumps when she turns the focus his direction, the first seems a slightly safer bet. ] M- me? [ yes akihi, it's the two of you here, who else could she be talking to?????
He chews his bottom lip. ] I don't think I have any good habits...
[ Ohhhhh, why can't the chair just swallow him whole...? She's staring at him so intensely, he can't help but wonder if he's made her mad somehow. ]
Um... [ A lump forms in his throat in the shape of the word "useless" - because while he certainly feels that way, saying so aloud would make it as certain as the laws that govern reality themselves.
Akihi picks at the sleeves of his button-up, thinking long and hard before settling on: ] I, um... I don't give up easily? Even when I should...
[ and on the other end of the spectrum irt nilla ocs, we have this lesbian--
Rosemary looks between those dice and Tharja, before laughing, as light and bubbly as the champagne they're sipping. ]
Ahaha! Now that's different! [ But despite any menacing vibes Tharja may or may not be trying to put out, Rosemary is completely unbothered. In fact, she props her chin in her palm and leans closer to those wiggling fingers. ] Just be gentle, okay~?
Edited (the tilde addition is so important ok) 2025-01-19 03:34 (UTC)
Why isn't she bothered!!! Tharja frowns at the other girl's truly unfazed demeanor. ]
No promises.
[ She says, but Rosemary hasn't slighted Tharja in any way (yet) so there's no reason for her to be rough. So, the fingers that reach out to pinch and fondle along the bridge of Rosemary's nose are merciful. Her fondling is also blessedly short because physical contact is weird for Tharja still.
[ It's a strange gesture, sure, but it's nothing that makes her uncomfortable. If anything, it makes her giggle. ] It kinda tickles. [ Did that help Tharja feel more comfortable about what she just did, or did it make things worse?
Well, either way things will definitely be worse after Rosemary scoops up the dice with a sing-songy ] My turn~ [ and rolls pinch nipple.
On the bright side(????), at least she looks fazed now? A heat spreads across her cheeks as she stares at those dice. ] Oh! That's... also different! [ Her gaze then flickers up, dancing between Tharja's eyes and chest. ] ... Would over your dress be okay?
well. in a place like this, it wouldn't really be unheard of to call out the wrong name in bed, would it? some people don't even exchange names to begin with. even if she'll make note of this small, sinking feeling in the future, because no matter the circumstance, it kinda bums her out.
not that she's any better of a person. because the dark head of hair on the pillow beside her doesn't ring any recognition past the pulse still rattling inside of her skull. it's taking every last faculty for her to sit up, let alone piece together what happened last night to get her in bed with a stranger. but in the time it's taken for her bedmate to wake up, she's at least managed to wrap the bedsheet modestly against her chest, and arrange her hair and feathers in such a way that they fall decently down her face instead of in a mangled nest.
and there's a slight — clearing of her throat. )
... it's... Robin.
Actually.
( just a minor correction, lilting in that soft, unfamiliar voice. no harm done. )
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
Tharja | Fire Emblem: Awakening | New Player
DIRTY DICE
HOUSE OF CARDS
AFTERCARE
WILDCARD
dirty dice
she says nothing else to the guests, to the few that dared to speak to her outside of indulgence in their questions. questions, discovering that she is quite intelligent, and her own curiosities on what she can grasp of their current situation. a lengthy party was not her ideal scene, but she's capable of making most things work while on the floor. perhaps even while stuck in this long party they're in.
tharja had caught her attention naturally, it's part of why she found herself there while looking at the die in thought. interesting twist, isn't it? she's nursing her own champagne before they're rolled and....then staring blankly. really? fondle her nose? she does frown about it, those odd and rather frightening pupils of hers glow for the moment in the dim light in this parlor they're in.)
And how exactly, pray tell, does fondling a nose work?
(her voice is deep, commanding, frightening to the lesser experienced. something might always stick out in it, but she's curious on what the other woman could possibly mean. the closer tharja's fingers get, the more that heat within her body can be felt. strongly. almost like a broiling volcano is within her, but that's strange, isn't it?
it must be, no person runs this hot. nobody could without dying, perhaps it's a trick of the mind from the alcohol flowing through them. yes, that must be it, but arlecchino stands firmly.)
no subject
She's not frightened, no, but everything about Arlecchino sends a tickle up Tharja's spine. It's a feeling vaguely reminiscent to how she felt upon meeting Robin: the darkness of Grima's influence in the tactician calling out to her. It's not a darkness she can sense in this woman, but it's something. Foreign. Powerful.
Whatever it is, she wants to know more. Even if that means continuing this absurd game.
The corner of her lips quirk into a lopsided smile, and Tharja resumes her twiddling. ]
I imagine it's much like fondling anything else. Some heavy petting but on a smaller scale. A much smaller scale.
[ It's now or never. Tharja crosses the last infinitesimal space between them and draws a line down the bridge of the other woman's nose with two fingers.
The tremble in her touch is definitely another trick of the mind. Definitely. ]
no subject
regardless, she doesn't see it as fear. not the tremble she feels when tharja traces along her nose. the heat is stronger along her skin, those unnatural eyes of hers follows the other woman's hand before turning her attention back to the comment about fondling her nose. heavy petting on a smaller scale, huh? she muses almost that it likely would have been different had this been somewhere more sensitive than tracing along than handsome face of hers. wickedly handsome, threatening in how her eyes seem bottomless.
then again, her wearing her hair down and straightened out might not help her case much. the heat blooms and gathers under the surface, furious heat which seems to not fade and seeps into tharja's fingers. that tremble was curious. enough that arlecchino raises a brow, but does not question it. curses are interesting, instead of something like grima? what arlecchino has goes past that. right in the blood of her ancestors, the blood she carries deep in her veins.
a curse passed down to their children if any, their descendants.)
I see. I wouldn't say that I would attempt to fondle a nose, though.
(if tharja pays more attention, she would see the champagne glass that the knave holds is almost certainly not held by a normal hand. those are claws along her fingers, skin dark like charcoal or leaning into pitch black, with markings running down her hands that are visible. the rest along her arms? those are hidden beneath her suit. not in view, but there is more cursed and blemished skin where that came from.
far too much of it. though another trick of the mind, it must be how her eyes almost glow in predatory amusement.)
no subject
I wouldn't normally, either. Unless I really was trying to pull it right off. [ Pig snouts are useful in some brews. ] But I was beholden to the dice.
[ Speaking of attention: Arlecchino's odd claw has not escaped Tharja's. Before, it would have been easy to write off as manakete transformation but now that she has felt the pressure of the other woman's power... it's as fascinating as the rest of her. It's almost as if that fire burning inside of her has burnt all the way through her skin there, leaving nothing but charred remains. ]
Your roll.
[ Maybe she'll give her a better look at it. ]
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it is amusing to think even a dynasty of khaenri'ah that was long thought dead is still burning in one woman. like the moon that haunts her dreams, that haunts her steps and clings to her like an ill omen. anyway, that clawed and twisted looking hand grabs the die and shakes it decently. the click of the die hitting one another fills the air, and once it lands on: 7 and 7. they're both fondling then, seems like, for the start. the knave isn't sure how to fondle a neck, but she did waste no time and reach to run one of those clawed fingers along tharja's neck slowly.
the burning heat of her skin broils, but rests calmly in her fingertips while doing something a little more sensual than expected. like flirting, like not flirting. she's too good at being a mystery to make that part of it evident for anyone.)
Hmm, I suppose it wasn't anywhere like the nose, then. Dice games aren't something I'm well versed in.
(much less sexual based dice games, or sex based any sort of games. sordid affairs that are like the ones on display here were something arlecchino didn't indulge in. a lot of her pleasures of the flesh were best left in private. the more intimate variety and not-so intimate variety, in particular, were part of those indulgences that the knave would afford herself from time to time.)
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Any Car...
I'm tryin, lass! But this doesn't want to let me go.
[Thankfully, while he's never been in a car, he has been inside a levnis, so he's familiar at least the idea of being strapped in, even if he can't reach the buckle. But her arms seem to be free.]
Can you at least unbuckle me? Then I might be able to get us out of this blasted thing.
no subject
Okay, Rex's suggestion is extremely helpful. Tharja didn't even know what she was supposed to be looking for before; now, she knows she has to look for a strap. A belt. This better not be a trick...
Because, as Tharja wordlessly sweeps her gaze over his body and leans in to feel around for the buckle at his hips, she quickly becomes aware of just how little his robe leaves to the imagination. Hers, too, for that matter. She can feel the front of her robes slip, exposing cleavage as she leans.
Urgh. Looks like she'll have to work on a memory wipe spell again. ]
Blast...
[ Focus! The buckle! She works at it a bit, squinting as it doesn't budge even under her roughest manhandling. It's not by user error this time, either. It just won't release. ]
It's stuck. Of course, it's stuck.
[ What she wouldn't give to have one of her tomes!! ]
no subject
Ugh, Uraya's bollocks! [He makes a frustrated sound, before letting out a breath.] And me without my swords...
[He chances a glance at her with his one good eye.]
Don't suppose you have a knife on you somewhere...?
[A stupid question, but he still has to ask.]
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No. [ But it's somehow both a relief and frustrating that he's just as stuck as Tharja is. She would hate to be too indebted to someone. ]
If I had my tomes, I could blast this contraption to high hell.
[ Tharja returns her attention back to the buckle, trying her hand at it again. ]
Do you have any other ideas?
House of Cards
Her answer gets a bemused look from him, however, as he leans back in his chair and cocks an eyebrow at the statement. ]
Come now, that can't possibly be true. Everyone has at least a few bad habits.
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It sounds like you're projecting. [ She flips the card between her fingers until finally resting it against her lips. ] I simply don't have any habits that I would consider bad.
Others may disagree, but that's no skin off my back.
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[ Her retort surprisingly just gets an amused grin from him. It was one he frequently held himself, on certain topics. Although he has more bad habits than he can count on his fingers, really. Even according to him.
But he eyes the tower speculatively a moment, trying to gauge which would be a safe one to pick, before carefully sliding one free of the stack. he holds his breath a moment, then releases it when the whole thing doesn't immediately collapse on him. ]
Have you ever been caught sneaking outside the house? [ A blink, before he snickers. ] Does it have to have been my house I was caught sneaking out of? because if so, no, I knew every secret nook and cranny in mine, and just how to avoid being caught. Other people's houses, though...? Not so much.
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How naughty. What were you doing sneaking out of others' houses?
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aftercare!
However, he doesn’t always end up with a dark haired beauty in his bed. Sitting upright and yawning, as he goes to stretch his arms and casually looks to the side—his jaw drops.
Did he drink so much, that he doesn’t even remember her name, let alone getting into bed with her? Oh boy. It looks like that may be the case. But, as she grumbles something, he feels a blend of relief and consternation. Did she forget his name too? Fair is fair, but ouch… ]
Uh, no, it’s Rokurou…
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She must be hearing things: she didn't end the night with anyone, let alone go to bed with anyone. That voice must just be another side effect of (apparently) indulging.
But as Tharja slowly comes back to herself, she can feel that tell-tale heat of another person beside her.
What.
She pushes herself up again quickly, this time swiping her hair to the side. ]
Who -- How did you get in here?! [ Wherever here is. A room, right? ]
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After a long, awkward silence, ]
Well, this is my room… so… [ his gaze returns to her, slinking downward slowly now that she’s gotten up from the bedding, ] … through the door?
[ He huffs, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his arms. ]
Do you really not remember me?
[ Okay. He doesn’t remember her, but she really forgot him!? ]
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Regardless. The fact that she doesn't remember anything - especially Rokurou - is the bigger issue here. ]
I would remember you.
[ He's got a similar flicker of something that she sensed in Arlecchino. A foreign darkness. But that's it; she has no idea he's not human. ]
I don't even remember leaving. Did you bring me here?
[ Fess up, bud!!! ]
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house of cards
Though with how he jumps when she turns the focus his direction, the first seems a slightly safer bet. ] M- me? [ yes akihi, it's the two of you here, who else could she be talking to?????
He chews his bottom lip. ] I don't think I have any good habits...
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Please. You must have one. Even if it's as simple as being able to fold clothes neatly. [ She really stares him down. ]
I refuse to believe anyone is that useless.
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Um... [ A lump forms in his throat in the shape of the word "useless" - because while he certainly feels that way, saying so aloud would make it as certain as the laws that govern reality themselves.
Akihi picks at the sleeves of his button-up, thinking long and hard before settling on: ] I, um... I don't give up easily? Even when I should...
dirty dice
Rosemary looks between those dice and Tharja, before laughing, as light and bubbly as the champagne they're sipping. ]
Ahaha! Now that's different! [ But despite any menacing vibes Tharja may or may not be trying to put out, Rosemary is completely unbothered. In fact, she props her chin in her palm and leans closer to those wiggling fingers. ] Just be gentle, okay~?
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Why isn't she bothered!!! Tharja frowns at the other girl's truly unfazed demeanor. ]
No promises.
[ She says, but Rosemary hasn't slighted Tharja in any way (yet) so there's no reason for her to be rough. So, the fingers that reach out to pinch and fondle along the bridge of Rosemary's nose are merciful. Her fondling is also blessedly short because physical contact is weird for Tharja still.
She frowns (pouts) upon pulling back. ]
There.
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Well, either way things will definitely be worse after Rosemary scoops up the dice with a sing-songy ] My turn~ [ and rolls pinch nipple.
On the bright side(????), at least she looks fazed now? A heat spreads across her cheeks as she stares at those dice. ] Oh! That's... also different! [ Her gaze then flickers up, dancing between Tharja's eyes and chest. ] ... Would over your dress be okay?
aftercare;
well. in a place like this, it wouldn't really be unheard of to call out the wrong name in bed, would it? some people don't even exchange names to begin with. even if she'll make note of this small, sinking feeling in the future, because no matter the circumstance, it kinda bums her out.
not that she's any better of a person. because the dark head of hair on the pillow beside her doesn't ring any recognition past the pulse still rattling inside of her skull. it's taking every last faculty for her to sit up, let alone piece together what happened last night to get her in bed with a stranger. but in the time it's taken for her bedmate to wake up, she's at least managed to wrap the bedsheet modestly against her chest, and arrange her hair and feathers in such a way that they fall decently down her face instead of in a mangled nest.
and there's a slight — clearing of her throat. )
... it's... Robin.
Actually.
( just a minor correction, lilting in that soft, unfamiliar voice. no harm done. )