【 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.
[ Genuine curiosity cuts above the general uproar of the parking garage once everyone starts waking up to whatever vehicular blessing or curse might have befallen them. For his part, he's relatively unscathed. He's also opted to take a look around at what the place's got to offer, finding the rides here above and beyond what he'd see even in the most well-to-do districts of the city. His verdict is...
...he has several questions, actually. ]
Or the wear on the tires? Can you actually take these guys anywhere?
[ He's new and Not Understanding the scope of what's happening just yet. This is also highlighted by his choice ("choice") in outfit: he's gotten ahold of a robe that isn't see-through, but the trade off is that it's an abhorrent tiger print. He's also sporting a bright red feather boa and shutter shades. As you do.
Glancing aside, eyes somewhat obscured, he clears his throat and pushes the glasses higher on his nose. So yes, he is wearing these on purpose. ]
...Don't stare, alright? I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding between me and that NPC back there.
[ Lighter. ]
— PHOENIX CASINO HALL.
A. (FOR AT THE DOOR): [ Alright, so. Basic rundown as Lighter, Champion of the Sons of Calydon understands it: he's trapped in the sex dimension, which also happens to be a hotel, which also happens to be a casino. A real high roller's place, at that. As someone chronically addicted to ignoring his own desires and also someone who is chronically broke, this is honestly a nightmare.
But he's real and here and awake, so what's he going to do about it? It seems ill-tempered of him to try and fight his way out when every next guy seems intent on him just having a good time. There's no one to get on him about moping, so once he's finally stuffed into a suit nice enough to make the cut for the hall (still wearing his shades and boa btw), he sort of... gets heckled and pushed along by a couple of ghost hands, which he's also opting to not question. He does swat at them here and there, irritability simmering low and behind a veil of contemplation.
That is, before a pair of hands gets too handsy, just giving him a full double-cheeked assgrab by way of a push forward. Grunting, Lighter freezes, then whirls on his heel with fists balled towards the next guest behind him. Honestly kind of menacing? But that's when he realizes it's for nothing, because. Ghosts.
He heaves a beleaguered sigh, staunching the flow of traffic by standing there and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. ]
Tell me you saw that.
B. (FOR BUBBLY): [ Nowadays, Lighter isn't much of a drinker or a smoker. While that's kept his head good and well on his shoulders so far, he knows how fast things can change if he's not on his guard. Still, he can't help but gaze upwards at the ornate ceilings of the place, expression (what's visible of it) hovering between awe and pity. If he manages to catch the attention of anyone having a rough time of it thanks to the bubbly, he'll lift a hand upwards. ]
Can you, uh... swim to me? I think I can pull you down if you get close enough.
[ He's tall and sturdy looking, ungloved hands battered with scars. Surely he can handle one (1) person's weight. ]
— GAME ROOMS.
[ Here stands Lighter, cutting a striking figure before of the big glitzy wheels that'll determine your near fate based on how hard or well you spin it. Here stands Lighter, looking ridiculous (as always) and feeling ridiculous (that's new), because a confetti canon has just gone off, dousing him in little shiny paper bits as he holds the prize he'd spun for:
A tiny golden g-string, held aloft so delicately on his index finger. He is wincing. ]
I don't think this is my size. Can I go again?
[ His whole reason for even trying is he's seen the insta-prize, the one with the designer clothes and accessories. That would fix him, even if only a little. Canting his head towards whoever's next, he ventures: ]
Wouldn't happen to have a lucky charm of some kind on you, would you?
— HANGOVER AFTERCARE.
[ Try as he might have, even he couldn't completely escape the vacuous pull of the party atmosphere. How he's feeling right now seems really incongruent with the amount of partying he actually did, he thinks... he's a wallflower, an observer, he's too cool for school, and...
He has a blinding headache. Groaning pathetically, Lighter oozes deeper into the mattress, holding a pillow clutched over his head. He thought Nitro-Fuel was bad. What skin peeks out from the blankets runs hot, tough and well-loved by violence, by sunlight. ]
Ugh. I've been hit harder in the ring...
[ oh how he protests. ]
— WILDCARD/ETC.
( just here to have a good time and make his life difficult tbh. m/any, 17+, kinks are bring it on. )
[ That sure does sound like something a quitter would say, buddy boy. In all seriousness, Mayou's eyeing the titty bitty scrap of gold fabric suspended from his finger with no small amount of amusement. How's he gonna know if it's not his size if he hasn't tried it on, huh? Quitter. ]
Fresh out of rabbit foot charms, sorry.
[ That's a tone drier than the Sahara, all right. After a moment or two to dust off a couple wayward confetti shreds from her dress, she shifts her attention away from his fancy new g-string to Lighter himself. ]
But hey, look on the bright side... it could always be worse. At least you didn't win a cucumber.
That figures. [ Lighter intones, equally dry, underlying stress in the grit of his voice. ] S'ppose I should have thought of that. What a premium those things come at in a place like this.
[ He doesn't even bother brushing the confetti off, letting it sit festively on his shoulders, in the dark sweeps of his hair. It really can't get any worse at this point, so why the hell not. A hoarse chuckle huffs up from his throat as he steps aside for the lady, skimpy underwear still in hand. ]
Cucumber's edible, so it's got that going for it. [ ... ] Not that I've seen a kitchen since I got here.
[ Mayou sidles up to the wheel next, but not before shooting him a very pointed raise of an eyebrow. The kind that suggests he miiiiiiiiiight want to think that reasoning through a little bit. ]
Yeah? Are you sure you'd want to eat something like that in a place like this?
[ JUST SAYING???? For all they know that proverbial cucumber comes from ~places unknown~. Like 'second-hand, pre-owned, and lightly used' kind of places unknown. If he really wants to stuff a Schroedinger's vegetable in his mouth that's his choice, but... at least pick a god and pray first, dude. Veggie desecration aside - it's her turn to give the wheel a spin, and she's gonna put some sauce on it just for fun.
Round and round it goes! Where it stops, nobody knows! ]
There's a buffet in here somewhere if you're that desperate.
( asaba harumasa wakes up in a robe befitting of his near idol status in new eridu. except he's not in new eridu and he's more than straightforward on his stance regarding the nature of social and cultural idols, whether himself or someone else. the silk is old glam, that tarnished silver charmeuse layered in artful cascades with black lace, all dotted with what might be tiny diamonds making poor substitutes for stars. his collar gone is discordant, but he tugs his robe a little tighter, pulling the collar in more narrow and higher before (eventually) finding the exit of this oversized luxury vehicle.
running into lighter lorenz is neither expected nor a disappointment.
a friendly face?
covering a cough with an amicable laugh as he sort of walks sort of saunters into his personal space, as if he isn't just wearing a robe and is now experiencing what is a very vivid hallucination thanks to a new and weird round of meds, reaching up without shame to pluck at the collar of lighter's robe instead. )
A little far from Lumina Square. Aren't we. And also it's hard not to stare.
( but he doesn't comment on the robe, playing as if neatening it before reaching up to tap the shutter shades. like the movement before, this one bleeds into something else: the brief glance of fingertips pressed to lighter's cheekbone, as if making sure he seems real despite everything, and then slipping past lighter into the car. it's bigger than the one harumasa woke up in, and once he's inside, he cants his head back to stare up at lighter, upsidedown or otherwise as he adds, )
You know, this car might be bigger than my apartment.
( it's the closest they can get to privacy to talk about what might have happened to bring them here. )
[ Lighter isn't really sure how all this is supposed to work. Sure, he's got the little watch affixed to his bare wrist, he's gotten the actual memo, tinny and succinct. But without scope, he's limited to these dark concrete walls and all the alien luxury contained therein. It stands to reason he wouldn't be the only one from New Eridu here, but that it's this guy, all star-studded and running on the thinnest wisps of humor and even thinner touches... ]
Not our usual meeting place, that's for sure.
[Taking a deep breath, he follows after the minuscule heat trail of familiar fingertips. Never warm enough, as usual. At least he knows that, though it doesn't bring him much comfort. A little notch of worry snarls in his chest instead — an intrusion.
Giving a cursory glance behind him before following his sometimes-colleague into the SUV, gleaning what he can from the surroundings (nothing), he swings in and pulls the door shut behind him. New leather and upholstery, accents shined to perfection. The soft glow of overhead lights in an otherwise dormant interior, like a quiet party he's never even entertained the thought of witnessing. Clinical, nearly. The vehicles of the Outer Ring could never. ]
I gotta say, even if it is, I prefer your apartment. [ ...not like that. He clears his throat. ] Now that you're here, I think it's safe to say I didn't just get some corruption nightmare in a Hollow, huh?
( it says a lot perhaps that he was out of it enough to not pay much heed to the little watch-thing, but more than that, how big each of the vehicles is here. for what reason? maybe he should be paying more attention? his breaths shudder in his lungs as always they do, thin tiny whispers of irregularity and he decides worrying too much will get him nowhere. he has something more interesting to focus on and less nebulous, after all.
the tiger print is almost cute. or maybe that's just the undefeated (?) champion. he doesn't have to look closely to feel the curious stray energy lighter always seems to wear. like a secret ripple effect of something long ago. if they were closer, maybe he would be comforted by that familiarity; maybe not. well.
if nothing else, he looks good, but that's not going to make him feel better so harumasa keeps that comment to himself (for now.) how he slides back against the leather is very easy to construe as lethargic instead of anything else, and the tilt of his head is closer to come-hither than discomfort or strain. but this is a person who knows very well the importance of an act is the consistency of all the nuances. he hums. )
Th —
( ?
harumasa could go for his own door but instead he leans across lighter's lap to reach for his, the silk of his robe a generous drape away from his body but maybe that's too easy when there's so much fabric to begin with. a slight nudge of the car handle confirms what he thought he heard. briefly, harumasa's brows knit.
then he retreats, briefly pressing his hand to lighter's thigh to steady himself before then turning to reach to try his own door to find...the same thing. )
...I don't feel any levels of ether typical to the Hollows. Just...
( a soft laugh. well. just himself. but he's not the one playing with the car mechanisms nor transporting them in their sleep into nothing but dressing gowns. )
But it's nice to know you like my apartment. I do try.
( clearly meant to be taken as a joke; even if it's not a joke. he does try, while also wanting his apartment back home not to have too much in case of the inevitable. less clean up. all that.
a slight shiver runs through him but what's one to expect with the given attire. it doesn't occur to him yet that the car itself is slowly getting colder. the SUV is so big he can walk around in it, at least, diamond littered silk trailing behind him like a train, belted though it is. in the too dim light (does it not get brighter???), any glint of illumination is a spark of brightness.
well outfitted luxury limos aren't even in his wheelhouse. he's still a cop. he's just a cop with a fanclub. ...never mind. point being, as he covers his mouth to cough briefly, he then forces a lighthearted laugh. )
I'd say at least it isn't a Hollow, but we actually know what to do with those.
[ lighter's bedpartner is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from the man. if anything stands out with his silhouette, it's probably the ears. the tail is even more obvious when it calmly drags on top of the sheets, brushing into a forearm or elbow or wherever happens to be touching bare skin. is he ticklish? we'll find out when it inevitably moves to flick against his chest or stomach. he doesn't think of it either way.
but he's not going to completely ignore that sound. ]
Not by much, I take it.
[ cool. soft. slightly detached, only a hint of something bitter. this is his sixth or seventh life by now. ]
[ It's a mantra that he hoped would take away some of the edge of what he's feeling. Couldn't have been just the bubbly, he thinks, that golden smear of memory eluding recapture in his mind's eye. He doesn't smoke, not anymore, so not that stuff everyone was touting as a miracle fix for fatigue... but also, does he know what time it even is? Or day? What's up with this place?
Lighter's skin twinges at the flicker of softness across it. His body's all dulled now, but there are flashes of remembrance in it, what it's like to feel tickled. He snorts quietly. ]
Getting socked in the head's a little more straightforward. [ He stills. ] Usually.
[ Pulling his head up from the pillows, he catches a glance of his partner, brows furrowing in thought. A Thiren? ]
( This damn wheel is rigged. Has to be. As many people as he's watched spin it, no one seems to have landed on the instant prize, but somehow, rigged or not, it doesn't surprise him. Shit like this doesn't surprise him in this place anymore.
The confetti canon earns a small flinch, just like every other time before it, but his attention turns towards the other man with an arched brow. His gaze lands on that tiny g-string, and he huffs out a small amused sound and shakes his head. )
There's no line, you probably could. Maybe you'll win something to match.
( His attention lowers, one hand tucking into the pocket of the suit he's wearing to fish out his own prize. He holds up his own hand, the silver rings of the pair of handcuffs he's won dangling from a pair of his fingers. )
[ Lighter makes A Face. A expression that middles out somewhere between harrowing and grim determination. ]
Hey, that's a mean joke. Think there's a bartering system? Someone's gotta want this... [ He ticks his finger with the offending garment on it. ] ...thing, surely.
[ Or else it wouldn't be on the wheel? Man, he doesn't have enough info on how debauched these people get, though he can take a wild guess that not all of it for irony's sake. Sighing from his nose at his options, wondering if he's really gonna get wiped out by some kind of fine print in a place like this (endless prizes are surely fake, even with things like "cucumber" and "gun" among the winnings), he flicks a glance aside at the handcuffs.
If possible, his expression turns even more dire, though still somewhat obscured by his stupid shutter shades. ]
[ while lighter slowly crawls his way to the land of the waking, mercedes is already there, wrapped up in a fluffy robe as she explores the contents of those cloth bags. once she hears the pathetic dulcet tones of the consequences after a night of regret, she scoots back up the bed, peering over the pillow in an attempt to see his face. ]
Good morning, [ she says softly, in an attempt to avoid making that headache worse. she doesn't bother to hide the amusement in her tone and in her gaze, though, sorry. ] If you'd like, I could help with that.
[ ...in all honesty, it's a little strange to be met with such a kindly response when he's bellyaching about something that's (presumably) his own fault. It also makes his throat run bone dry when he finally lifts his head from his cushy bedding prison, meeting his pretty bedpartner's gaze with his unadorned one.
Only for a moment though, as if the eye contact unnerves him. He's otherwise calm, though. At least outwardly. ]
Mor — [ That dryness causes his voice to crack slightly. He clears his throat. ] ...Morning. You weren't busy, were you?
[ Seeing as how she's already up and dressed and he is not. ]
[This is my cue to write them into an embarrassing scenario together...
He shouldn't have sampled the champagne. It was an attempt, ill-fated, to better blend into the crowd, to look occupied with a glass in his hand and his attention surreptitiously off of anything lurid or obscene in his surroundings (of that there are many). Yet as soon as his feet leave the ground, suspended by some mechanism of power, Sunday is aware he's made the wrong decision. The weightlessness evokes nausea in his stomach; the last time he was in the air had been a traumatic, plummeting fall, and now —
A man is offering to help. The wings by Sunday's ears twitch, fluttering irritably, too small to do much in the way of flight except stir the fringe of hair around his eyes.]
Swim? [He waves his arm to show how ineffectual the friction of air is compared to water.] Find something... long, that I might hold onto and pull myself down. [A strained beat.] Please.
Long, huh. [ Lighter does seem to consider the command at length, giving a cursory sweep of the immediate area with his shaded gaze. (After a long list of harrowing challenges at the behest of the wheel, he did at least manage to pull a nice pair of sunglasses.) The party hall is... busy, to say the least. Mostly with people chasing their own highs and pleasures, but the place seems to value image above all else, the heat mirage of luxury. Not even a mop in sight. ] Easier said than done, I'm afraid.
[ But now that he's offered the help, he's not going to go back on it. Loosening his tie and shoving his sleeves upwards, he follows Sunday's drifting from below at an amiable pace. ]
But I've got an idea. Think I can convince you to relax up there?
[ This is definitely the face of a man who might cause a spectacle. ]
[Because this is the most important thing right now. Not the fact that Lighter is obviously suffering from whatever he had to drink nor the fact there's a stranger in his bed.
Well, in this place, a stranger in your bed is pretty normal all things considered. While Lighter ran hot, Wriothesley ran cold. Like a pillow that always stays cool, he reaches over to give the man a gentle pat on the arm. Wriothesley's touch was cool; a balm most likely to whatever Lighter was suffering from.] Perhaps that's why you've ended up in my bed despite us not getting to even have fun. Truly, what a travesty.
[ A distraction, but not in the way Lighter expects. Familiarity, but also not in the way Lighter expects. He's gone still in consideration, save the instinctual flicker of muscle as a curious coolness dissipates on it. The heat of his skin isn't very normal by the same measure, as if fire sits just below its surface. ]
Yeah. Used to. [ He amends, though the memories of it are, as always, all too near. ] Sorry, this is your bed?
[ Of course it is. It's not his bed. Did he have a bed, even? He heaves a dispassionate sigh. ]
I'm not used to the matchmaking services here yet.
[ true enough, there had been a witness to the hotel’s shenanigans, but whether or not that’s actually a good thing for lighter remains to be seen. angelika had been hovering by the entrance since she’d been shoved through a little less than an hour ago, half in an attempt to find the best opportunity to slip away, half because the refreshments table is nearby, lining an adjacent wall… she’s in the middle of nibbling on a bite-sized fruit tart when he grouches out loud, a soft sound of amusement escaping her. ]
Consider yourself lucky. At least the hands waited until you’d already been dressed.
[ Despite asking, the answer almost startles him. Head tipping aside to consider the bit of information she offers over a fruit tart, Lighter unwinds, the trickle of tension slow on the height of his shoulders. Finally realizing that he's acting as a big roadblock right now, his arms drop and he walks over to more squarely position himself as a fellow wallflower. ]
Yeah? That sounds like a major inconvenience. To put it kindly. [ His expression scrunches. Harass him, sure. But the lady? That's doing too much. ] Don't tell me they were hassling you before you even got here?
( Convinced that she'd wake up in her bed back at home, Alice has been avoiding the demand of sleep for the better half of the week. A few nights of puffing on Twig had her own mind splitting with an ache, which ultimately was what forced her to crash in the end. She can't say she feels like a million bucks when she wakes up, but she's also never owned that much money, so who was to say it didn't feel like being stomped on by a pair of horses.
She wasn't sure if she was happy to still be here or not. It meant this wasn't a dream, didn't it? She was certain she had no idea who she was with, either, or why the pair of them had woken up side-by-side in the same bed. But unlike her counterpart, uncomfortable next to her, Alice couldn't protest. He's handsome, she thinks, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she adjusts onto her side to face him. )
There's a package on the table... I saw it earlier, I think it'll help.
( She lifts herself onto her palm, the other lifting to secure the covers over her chest- Oh, she's nude. That's not usually how sleep goes for her. Her cheeks darken in color at the implication, before she's manoeuvring off of the bed, sheet haphazardly wrapped around her tiny frame. Alice waddles to the aforementioned kit, retrieves it, and then returns with an unsexy flop back onto the mattress where she perches herself to start digging through the supplies. )
They really think of everything here, don't they? ... Ah-ha! ( Alice holds up a small bottle and shakes it, before she tosses it in his direction. ) If that doesn't help, apparently orgasms are a good natural painkiller, too.
[ An unfamiliar voice rouses Lighter a little better than his own fussing does, a soft, wakening electricity flooding his body. Rearing up from his pillow prison, he's met with another pair of green eyes, skin dark and pearly beneath lower lashes. He squints as if seeing any better will make the words clearer through the aching thud of his pulse. It doesn't. Because — no wonder he hadn't sensed anything amiss... she's so petite that she barely makes a dent in the mattress.
Already, he's a few steps behind when his bedmate goes scuttling over on quiet footsteps to investigate. That she has to bring half the sheets with her to stay decent makes him realize he's similarly in his overwarm skin and nothing else. The back of his neck heats, that blanched-hot prickle of anxiety. ]
Yeah... [ A rusty timbre, gripped by bad sleep. He clears it quietly and pulls himself up, blanket slipping over harsh muscle and dark scars. There's a flicker to his glance as he considers the room he's pretty sure he went to bed alone in, a sort of awkwardness to his demeanor at the second of her comments. ] They sure do think of everything. But uh... is that the truth, or are you just saying that to keep with the vibe?
[ Eyeing the bottle, he relents, popping the cap and tipping two of the painkillers into his palm. He lifts his hand as if to toast. ]
( not all men have taken as well to being swaddled in luxury, to say nothing of being cramped into a backseat three shades too small to stretch out in. one such esteemed doctor happens to be in this particular boat— car— vehicle. the silken robe he's been bequeathed features a lovely fur collar held on by button (good); said buttons are also wound fast with the loose threads of neglect, keeping it from being easily removed (less good). this particular puzzle, mechanical though it may be, is a fair bit more interesting than the ambient yapping about the state of their apparent lodgings.
unfortunate, then, that ratio manages to look up at the exact time to make eye contact.
he's assuming it's something of the sort, anyway, beyond the shutters. on his end, he has no accessory to obscure the narrow stare he graces lighter with, tinged with disdain as it is. well. they're having a conversation, now. it'd be inappropriate to ignore him any longer. )
Is it that you'd prefer to be filthy? ( yikes. ) If you take issue with things being in good condition, then it should be easy to rectify.
[ ...ahh, being fixed in a gaze not unlike the gentle caress of a spiked bat upside the head. Truly, just like home.
Lucky that his skull's thick no matter where he crashes. ]
Uh. A little? [ Lighter answers as if he's paring the bitter rind back from the genuine sentiment beneath. Like, he's really thinking here. ] It's more like... the implication seems sad, more than the lack or dust or wear itself. You know?
[ He reaches out to the nearest glossy hood, tough fingers skirting its seam. No dirt, no fingerprints, no cactus spines. Not even a little creature living in there, damn. ]
The whole point of a ride is the freedom to go somewhere. It's a shame that it looks untouched.
[ There are other Implications at work here, but. Let's talk dust. For now. ]
( The cars do kinda suck, don't they? In the foolproof logic of, a car that cannot be taken for a drive is much like an empty glass of ice — so basically, useless. Which is much too sad, so leave it to one (1) Burnice White to fix the problem at hand in classic Burnice fashion; brute-forcing it with a particular stubbornness, that though she's no Piper, no daughter of the Sons of Calydon wouldn't dab her toes into the waters (oil??) of vehicle maintenance.
All of this to say — or rather, to show, that wherever in the extensive parking lot Lighter may be, there's an ever-increasing sound of tires ripping through the nice sparkling and pristine floors of the Golden Peacock's garage; a car, that was given purpose in life again, driven by one (1) Burnice White. Isn't it classic Burnice fashion to bring something back to life with a little fire?
⚠ Fire was not in fact used for the maintenance. That'd have been so bad.
And so, the picture is as such: one set of blonde twintails sitting in the driver's seat of a convertible Mustang, the bright red kind that is hard to ignore, who drifts... well, past the familiar head of dark-green hair that she spotted before, but once the car comes to a dangerous stop just inches from hitting another parked car in the garage, she takes a deep, deep, deeeeep breath, and — )
Liiiiiiighteeeeeerrrrrrr——!!!
( Look!! Behind you!!! She's not even that far to warrant the way she yells his name, but there's one (1) Burnice White, frantically waving her arm to catch the attention of the first friend she has found in this very sad and lifeless garage. It's like a graveyard of cars!! It's so sadge!!! 😦
Just don't mind the vaguely sheer, obnoxious black with gold details and red fur robe she was forced into once you look back, Lighter. She's not all too happy about it either, but hey, it's either that or nothing. )
[ There's a certain cadence to the Outer Ring's chaos that Lighter knows by heart. Sure, it's not a rainbow rush of fire or piglets flying at high speeds... and it's certainly no where near Steeltusk's offroad bellowing, of course. But squealing tires? Like music to his ears. (And utter torture for everyone else's in this enclosed space, rest in peace.) He barely flinches as the Mustang goes roaring past him in a cloud of tire smoke, the length of his feather boa whipping out behind him in its wake.
Turning on his heel, he huffs a laugh, the tilt of his smile a little softer, a little more grateful — blink and miss it in the clearing haze. ]
Yo, Burnice. [ His makeshift scarf flutters obnoxiously back down over his shoulder as he approaches the idling car, the scent of its afterburn stinging pleasantly. Between them... they've probably looked worse?! ] You're a sight for sore eyes.
[ Once he's at the passenger side door, he drops the flat of his arm on it, leaning over to get a look. Waow, cool guy. ]
Leave it to you to find the nicest wheels in this place.
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
lighter lorenz — zenless zone zero — new character/current player
— PHOENIX CASINO HALL.
— GAME ROOMS.
— HANGOVER AFTERCARE.
— WILDCARD/ETC.
Wheel of misfortune time! Game Room
Fresh out of rabbit foot charms, sorry.
[ That's a tone drier than the Sahara, all right. After a moment or two to dust off a couple wayward confetti shreds from her dress, she shifts her attention away from his fancy new g-string to Lighter himself. ]
But hey, look on the bright side... it could always be worse. At least you didn't win a cucumber.
his misfortunes are so numerous
That figures. [ Lighter intones, equally dry, underlying stress in the grit of his voice. ] S'ppose I should have thought of that. What a premium those things come at in a place like this.
[ He doesn't even bother brushing the confetti off, letting it sit festively on his shoulders, in the dark sweeps of his hair. It really can't get any worse at this point, so why the hell not. A hoarse chuckle huffs up from his throat as he steps aside for the lady, skimpy underwear still in hand. ]
Cucumber's edible, so it's got that going for it. [ ... ] Not that I've seen a kitchen since I got here.
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Yeah? Are you sure you'd want to eat something like that in a place like this?
[ JUST SAYING???? For all they know that proverbial cucumber comes from ~places unknown~. Like 'second-hand, pre-owned, and lightly used' kind of places unknown. If he really wants to stuff a Schroedinger's vegetable in his mouth that's his choice, but... at least pick a god and pray first, dude.
Veggie desecration aside - it's her turn to give the wheel a spin, and she's gonna put some sauce on it just for fun.
Round and round it goes! Where it stops, nobody knows! ]
There's a buffet in here somewhere if you're that desperate.
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— parking garage
running into lighter lorenz is neither expected nor a disappointment.
a friendly face?
covering a cough with an amicable laugh as he sort of walks sort of saunters into his personal space, as if he isn't just wearing a robe and is now experiencing what is a very vivid hallucination thanks to a new and weird round of meds, reaching up without shame to pluck at the collar of lighter's robe instead. )
A little far from Lumina Square. Aren't we. And also it's hard not to stare.
( but he doesn't comment on the robe, playing as if neatening it before reaching up to tap the shutter shades. like the movement before, this one bleeds into something else: the brief glance of fingertips pressed to lighter's cheekbone, as if making sure he seems real despite everything, and then slipping past lighter into the car. it's bigger than the one harumasa woke up in, and once he's inside, he cants his head back to stare up at lighter, upsidedown or otherwise as he adds, )
You know, this car might be bigger than my apartment.
( it's the closest they can get to privacy to talk about what might have happened to bring them here. )
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Not our usual meeting place, that's for sure.
[Taking a deep breath, he follows after the minuscule heat trail of familiar fingertips. Never warm enough, as usual. At least he knows that, though it doesn't bring him much comfort. A little notch of worry snarls in his chest instead — an intrusion.
Giving a cursory glance behind him before following his sometimes-colleague into the SUV, gleaning what he can from the surroundings (nothing), he swings in and pulls the door shut behind him. New leather and upholstery, accents shined to perfection. The soft glow of overhead lights in an otherwise dormant interior, like a quiet party he's never even entertained the thought of witnessing. Clinical, nearly. The vehicles of the Outer Ring could never. ]
I gotta say, even if it is, I prefer your apartment. [ ...not like that. He clears his throat. ] Now that you're here, I think it's safe to say I didn't just get some corruption nightmare in a Hollow, huh?
[ Reality sure has a way of being weirder. ]
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the tiger print is almost cute. or maybe that's just the undefeated (?) champion. he doesn't have to look closely to feel the curious stray energy lighter always seems to wear. like a secret ripple effect of something long ago. if they were closer, maybe he would be comforted by that familiarity; maybe not. well.
if nothing else, he looks good, but that's not going to make him feel better so harumasa keeps that comment to himself (for now.) how he slides back against the leather is very easy to construe as lethargic instead of anything else, and the tilt of his head is closer to come-hither than discomfort or strain. but this is a person who knows very well the importance of an act is the consistency of all the nuances. he hums. )
Th —
( ?
harumasa could go for his own door but instead he leans across lighter's lap to reach for his, the silk of his robe a generous drape away from his body but maybe that's too easy when there's so much fabric to begin with. a slight nudge of the car handle confirms what he thought he heard. briefly, harumasa's brows knit.
then he retreats, briefly pressing his hand to lighter's thigh to steady himself before then turning to reach to try his own door to find...the same thing. )
...I don't feel any levels of ether typical to the Hollows. Just...
( a soft laugh. well. just himself. but he's not the one playing with the car mechanisms nor transporting them in their sleep into nothing but dressing gowns. )
But it's nice to know you like my apartment. I do try.
( clearly meant to be taken as a joke; even if it's not a joke. he does try, while also wanting his apartment back home not to have too much in case of the inevitable. less clean up. all that.
a slight shiver runs through him but what's one to expect with the given attire. it doesn't occur to him yet that the car itself is slowly getting colder. the SUV is so big he can walk around in it, at least, diamond littered silk trailing behind him like a train, belted though it is. in the too dim light (does it not get brighter???), any glint of illumination is a spark of brightness.
well outfitted luxury limos aren't even in his wheelhouse. he's still a cop. he's just a cop with a fanclub. ...never mind. point being, as he covers his mouth to cough briefly, he then forces a lighthearted laugh. )
I'd say at least it isn't a Hollow, but we actually know what to do with those.
( this...? not so much.
again he shivers. )
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hangover aftercare
but he's not going to completely ignore that sound. ]
Not by much, I take it.
[ cool. soft. slightly detached, only a hint of something bitter. this is his sixth or seventh life by now. ]
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Lighter's skin twinges at the flicker of softness across it. His body's all dulled now, but there are flashes of remembrance in it, what it's like to feel tickled. He snorts quietly. ]
Getting socked in the head's a little more straightforward. [ He stills. ] Usually.
[ Pulling his head up from the pillows, he catches a glance of his partner, brows furrowing in thought. A Thiren? ]
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game room
The confetti canon earns a small flinch, just like every other time before it, but his attention turns towards the other man with an arched brow. His gaze lands on that tiny g-string, and he huffs out a small amused sound and shakes his head. )
There's no line, you probably could. Maybe you'll win something to match.
( His attention lowers, one hand tucking into the pocket of the suit he's wearing to fish out his own prize. He holds up his own hand, the silver rings of the pair of handcuffs he's won dangling from a pair of his fingers. )
Best I've got.
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Hey, that's a mean joke. Think there's a bartering system? Someone's gotta want this... [ He ticks his finger with the offending garment on it. ] ...thing, surely.
[ Or else it wouldn't be on the wheel? Man, he doesn't have enough info on how debauched these people get, though he can take a wild guess that not all of it for irony's sake. Sighing from his nose at his options, wondering if he's really gonna get wiped out by some kind of fine print in a place like this (endless prizes are surely fake, even with things like "cucumber" and "gun" among the winnings), he flicks a glance aside at the handcuffs.
If possible, his expression turns even more dire, though still somewhat obscured by his stupid shutter shades. ]
I'm not that desperate yet.
[ "yet" ]
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shhh, hangover aftercare.
Good morning, [ she says softly, in an attempt to avoid making that headache worse. she doesn't bother to hide the amusement in her tone and in her gaze, though, sorry. ] If you'd like, I could help with that.
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Only for a moment though, as if the eye contact unnerves him. He's otherwise calm, though. At least outwardly. ]
Mor — [ That dryness causes his voice to crack slightly. He clears his throat. ] ...Morning. You weren't busy, were you?
[ Seeing as how she's already up and dressed and he is not. ]
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bubbly 🫧
He shouldn't have sampled the champagne. It was an attempt, ill-fated, to better blend into the crowd, to look occupied with a glass in his hand and his attention surreptitiously off of anything lurid or obscene in his surroundings (of that there are many). Yet as soon as his feet leave the ground, suspended by some mechanism of power, Sunday is aware he's made the wrong decision. The weightlessness evokes nausea in his stomach; the last time he was in the air had been a traumatic, plummeting fall, and now —
A man is offering to help. The wings by Sunday's ears twitch, fluttering irritably, too small to do much in the way of flight except stir the fringe of hair around his eyes.]
Swim? [He waves his arm to show how ineffectual the friction of air is compared to water.] Find something... long, that I might hold onto and pull myself down. [A strained beat.] Please.
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Long, huh. [ Lighter does seem to consider the command at length, giving a cursory sweep of the immediate area with his shaded gaze. (After a long list of harrowing challenges at the behest of the wheel, he did at least manage to pull a nice pair of sunglasses.) The party hall is... busy, to say the least. Mostly with people chasing their own highs and pleasures, but the place seems to value image above all else, the heat mirage of luxury. Not even a mop in sight. ] Easier said than done, I'm afraid.
[ But now that he's offered the help, he's not going to go back on it. Loosening his tie and shoving his sleeves upwards, he follows Sunday's drifting from below at an amiable pace. ]
But I've got an idea. Think I can convince you to relax up there?
[ This is definitely the face of a man who might cause a spectacle. ]
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Aftercare
[Because this is the most important thing right now. Not the fact that Lighter is obviously suffering from whatever he had to drink nor the fact there's a stranger in his bed.
Well, in this place, a stranger in your bed is pretty normal all things considered. While Lighter ran hot, Wriothesley ran cold. Like a pillow that always stays cool, he reaches over to give the man a gentle pat on the arm. Wriothesley's touch was cool; a balm most likely to whatever Lighter was suffering from.] Perhaps that's why you've ended up in my bed despite us not getting to even have fun. Truly, what a travesty.
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Yeah. Used to. [ He amends, though the memories of it are, as always, all too near. ] Sorry, this is your bed?
[ Of course it is. It's not his bed. Did he have a bed, even? He heaves a dispassionate sigh. ]
I'm not used to the matchmaking services here yet.
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casino hall — a
Consider yourself lucky. At least the hands waited until you’d already been dressed.
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Yeah? That sounds like a major inconvenience. To put it kindly. [ His expression scrunches. Harass him, sure. But the lady? That's doing too much. ] Don't tell me they were hassling you before you even got here?
hangover aftercare 🖤
She wasn't sure if she was happy to still be here or not. It meant this wasn't a dream, didn't it? She was certain she had no idea who she was with, either, or why the pair of them had woken up side-by-side in the same bed. But unlike her counterpart, uncomfortable next to her, Alice couldn't protest. He's handsome, she thinks, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she adjusts onto her side to face him. )
There's a package on the table... I saw it earlier, I think it'll help.
( She lifts herself onto her palm, the other lifting to secure the covers over her chest- Oh, she's nude. That's not usually how sleep goes for her. Her cheeks darken in color at the implication, before she's manoeuvring off of the bed, sheet haphazardly wrapped around her tiny frame. Alice waddles to the aforementioned kit, retrieves it, and then returns with an unsexy flop back onto the mattress where she perches herself to start digging through the supplies. )
They really think of everything here, don't they? ... Ah-ha! ( Alice holds up a small bottle and shakes it, before she tosses it in his direction. ) If that doesn't help, apparently orgasms are a good natural painkiller, too.
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Already, he's a few steps behind when his bedmate goes scuttling over on quiet footsteps to investigate. That she has to bring half the sheets with her to stay decent makes him realize he's similarly in his overwarm skin and nothing else. The back of his neck heats, that blanched-hot prickle of anxiety. ]
Yeah... [ A rusty timbre, gripped by bad sleep. He clears it quietly and pulls himself up, blanket slipping over harsh muscle and dark scars. There's a flicker to his glance as he considers the room he's pretty sure he went to bed alone in, a sort of awkwardness to his demeanor at the second of her comments. ] They sure do think of everything. But uh... is that the truth, or are you just saying that to keep with the vibe?
[ Eyeing the bottle, he relents, popping the cap and tipping two of the painkillers into his palm. He lifts his hand as if to toast. ]
My regards to the House.
[ Down the hatch they go, dry as can be. ]
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erm. parking garage
unfortunate, then, that ratio manages to look up at the exact time to make eye contact.
he's assuming it's something of the sort, anyway, beyond the shutters. on his end, he has no accessory to obscure the narrow stare he graces lighter with, tinged with disdain as it is. well. they're having a conversation, now. it'd be inappropriate to ignore him any longer. )
Is it that you'd prefer to be filthy? ( yikes. ) If you take issue with things being in good condition, then it should be easy to rectify.
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Lucky that his skull's thick no matter where he crashes. ]
Uh. A little? [ Lighter answers as if he's paring the bitter rind back from the genuine sentiment beneath. Like, he's really thinking here. ] It's more like... the implication seems sad, more than the lack or dust or wear itself. You know?
[ He reaches out to the nearest glossy hood, tough fingers skirting its seam. No dirt, no fingerprints, no cactus spines. Not even a little creature living in there, damn. ]
The whole point of a ride is the freedom to go somewhere. It's a shame that it looks untouched.
[ There are other Implications at work here, but. Let's talk dust. For now. ]
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parking garage, but with a twist. as a treat
All of this to say — or rather, to show, that wherever in the extensive parking lot Lighter may be, there's an ever-increasing sound of tires ripping through the nice sparkling and pristine floors of the Golden Peacock's garage; a car, that was given purpose in life again, driven by one (1) Burnice White. Isn't it classic Burnice fashion to bring something back to life with a little fire?
⚠ Fire was not in fact used for the maintenance. That'd have been so bad.
And so, the picture is as such: one set of blonde twintails sitting in the driver's seat of a convertible Mustang, the bright red kind that is hard to ignore, who drifts... well, past the familiar head of dark-green hair that she spotted before, but once the car comes to a dangerous stop just inches from hitting another parked car in the garage, she takes a deep, deep, deeeeep breath, and — )
Liiiiiiighteeeeeerrrrrrr——!!!
( Look!! Behind you!!! She's not even that far to warrant the way she yells his name, but there's one (1) Burnice White, frantically waving her arm to catch the attention of the first friend she has found in this very sad and lifeless garage. It's like a graveyard of cars!! It's so sadge!!! 😦
Just don't mind the vaguely sheer, obnoxious black with gold details and red fur robe she was forced into once you look back, Lighter. She's not all too happy about it either, but hey, it's either that or nothing. )
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Turning on his heel, he huffs a laugh, the tilt of his smile a little softer, a little more grateful — blink and miss it in the clearing haze. ]
Yo, Burnice. [ His makeshift scarf flutters obnoxiously back down over his shoulder as he approaches the idling car, the scent of its afterburn stinging pleasantly. Between them... they've probably looked worse?! ] You're a sight for sore eyes.
[ Once he's at the passenger side door, he drops the flat of his arm on it, leaning over to get a look. Waow, cool guy. ]
Leave it to you to find the nicest wheels in this place.