【 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.
[ It feels ill-begotten, to have anyone confessing anything to him that's not won or beaten out of somebody. But his is a violence nurtured by necessity and he metes it with the same intention. Forgiveness is less practiced, the urge to give it weak in his throat. He breathes it out, the sound of it catching and flickering. ]
Show me one person who always gets it right. [ Not a dare, but a quiet insistence on the idea of it, pressed like hope into the harsh lines of his body— that no one is without fault. ] And I'll show you a miracle.
[ he may not be accustomed to it, but it settles warm against her hand, over her shoulders. she breathes out a soft laugh, gentle and brief, and lets her hand fall away back to her lap. it's a little silly, in hindsight. but it's also nice to hear—that she doesn't always have to despite the fact that she's the one who holds them all together. sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively.
it's also silly to want him to stay longer than he already has. eventually, they'll both have to leave the sanctity and comfort of this bed. maybe a part of her dreads what she'll find outside, or maybe she just likes being able to talk to someone so far removed from things like crests and bloodlines and nobility. ]
[ He doesn't see a lot of miracles, either. In fact, he's been on the opposite end of a miracle for what feels like his whole life, weaving outcomes with his own two bare and bloodied hands. Measuring his thoughts, the weight of his own tongue in his mouth, he exhales a little bit. And settles on: ]
That's a shame. [ Truthful in its brevity. ] But I guess I could say I'm familiar with thinking that way too. All or nothing.
[ You either get it right or, well.
Well.
And in his long list of poor decisions, the thought strikes him that he hopes this won't be another. For her sake, if nothing else. Lighter levels a glance downwards, gaze shadowed only slightly by the sweep of his messy bangs, the consideration creased into his brow. He extends his hand this time, beckoning for hers again. ]
[ all or nothing. that's familiar, too. there's always consequences in the sacrifices made for what they believe in. they put everything on the line even when there was hardly anything to begin with—nothing but a promise made five years prior, when things were a little kinder, a little easier.
she's tired, she realizes the longer she sits there, counting their breaths. maybe waking up here away from the war and the bloodshed, sitting next to a man who sees her for who she is rather than what she can provide—maybe that's the miracle.
his fingers catch her attention and she looks down at them, then back up to his face, slipping her hand into his. it's getting easier, she thinks. ]
[ All or nothing. A terrible mindset to have in a prison masquerading as a gambling den. It takes one to know one and he silently thinks — maybe he ought to watch out for her in this place, its gilt promises of luxury surely belying its ability to grip and rend kindness to pieces. Who knows for what purpose... he hasn't figured it out yet.
But this sensation is calmer and nearer than all of that. Her forgiving gaze on him, sweet hands willing to bear his touch. Compared to him, the smoothness of her fingers are cool in his own, so slight that they fit right against the breadth of his palm. ]
I know it seems weird to ask. [ Considering they'd already been doing this... ] But I'll bet this place makes it awfully easy to overstep if I'm not careful.
It's not weird at all. I— [ she pauses, her expression shifting as her smile wanes, just a little. ] ... People don't tend to, where I'm from.
[ she's probably said too much, hasn't she? her fingers tremble briefly in his hold before her grip tightens around his fingers; the smile returns again, if a little helpless this time. ]
[ A flare of something instinctual leaps to life in his chest. Like he'd tusks-down charge the first thing to make the mistake of dimming her smile like that. Brows furrowed, he parses that reaction, rough thumb smoothing over the unbroken seam of her knuckles to ease the tremble in them. Sometimes, he can take a hint. ]
They'd better while they're here. [ just saying. And then, calmer, more halting: ] I just don't want anyone to have to make a decision they'll regret, that's all. You, me...
[ Funny, how she allays some of his anxieties while stoking others. ]
[ his thumb drags along the back of her hand and she almost tries to take it back, or maybe... reassure him, in some way. she's quick to deflect whenever the attention turns to her and her past, to walk things back even if she shouldn't have to. there was no room for weakness back home; everyone has a purpose they're destined to fulfill.
she doesn't explain herself; she doesn't need to. she has a feeling that he understands a part of it anyway. and that's something, isn't it? ]
I know. [ her other hand covers his, cradling his hand between both of hers. ] I don't want you to regret anything, either.
[ Lighter's gaze hones on the striking overlap of their hands, pale and serene laid safely across hot and scorched. His body's been dulled to many sensations over time and he's never paid much attention to it, but sometimes there's a trickle of something a little stronger or better than he expects. Not caught off his guard by it, but... reminded, he thinks.
Of why it is that he understands. ]
Say, Mercie. [ His voice is low and easy, as if he's trying to keep out of earshot despite them being the only two in the room. ] What do you think about this place?
[ what does she think of this place? too much, is the first thing that comes to mind; too bright. the glitz and glamor embodies everything she doesn't like, everything that she had tried to escape as a child, only to be brought back into again because a merchant thought she could make him even wealthier than he already was.
it's a little sickening—she's seen all kinds of gruesome injuries in her lifetime, but it doesn't make her stomach churn nearly as much as this entire place does. ]
It's very fine, [ is what she settles on. ] Too fine, I think.
[ there's a moment where she looks like she wants to say more, as if debating with herself whether she should elaborate or not. honesty wins in the end— ]
We're in the middle of a war back home, you see. There isn't much left in many parts of the country, so it's a little jarring to see all of this finery... and to be surrounded by it.
[ What a measured answer. Lighter's shoulders slope a little, as if he's wise to the fact that she'd been holding all of that in but chose instead to share it with him after all. It makes him less keen on leaving, even though it's presumably morning — even though he can't, also presumably, stay here with her forever. ]
That makes sense. Luxury's pretty glaring when there's not much of it to go around. All of this must seem in pretty bad taste to you.
[ Hanging on that peripheral, he lifts his opposite hand. ]
Medic? [ He guesses. He runs his fingertips over his brow where his head had been pounding, now soothed to a near memory. ] If this was anything to go by.
[ she hums in agreement—bad taste is one way of putting it. admittedly, she would say the same; it would be a cold day in hell before mercedes actually says she hates something out loud, but it's close enough.
her gaze follows the path of his fingertips and her expression softens. ]
Yes. [ wryly, ] They'd tried to teach me swordsmanship, but I'm very clumsy. I'd sooner hurt myself before anyone else.
[ A long exhale sighs through his nose, amused by the tone she takes. Even without knowing her for long, he thinks he understands the sentiment well enough to glean meaning from its softness. Which means this whole situation might be a little worse than he thought, actually. ]
I... [ He pauses, the words slow and ashy in his throat. ] Yeah, I don't like it one bit. It's sketchy, what's happening. No matter how much I tried to grasp at what was really going on, it's like it all just kept slipping through my fingers.
[ And there's so few things that can really escape him, when he puts his focus on it. ]
Is playing the game to find out really the right choice?
[ that makes the two of them. she's not a scholar or a scientist by any means, she's far from capable of coming up with some kind of reason or explanation for their appearance here aside from some type of magic, maybe. a summoning spell, of sorts. why it saw fit to summon them specifically, she can't say either. ]
There's no reason why we can't search for a different path while playing it. If there's a way in, there must be a way out.
[ it's clear that she'd rather not play at all, but she has a feeling drawing more attention to them would be more detrimental. ]
[ He appreciates how astute that statement is. There's something about this that's a little like being in a Hollow — there are approximations of things he knows, but the environment has been tainted by corruption. That it's all gilt and gorgeous is almost more unnerving, though. In a Hollow, it's easier to tell where the monsters are, silhouettes against his fires raging in the kaleidoscopic dark. Regardless, she's right. ]
Despite how I look, [ scarred, well-loved by violence. ] I'd like to think I know when to fight my way out and when to hang back to get a better idea of what I'm up against. If it was just me, playing would be an easier sell.
[ Or so he thinks. In the clutch of her hands, his fingers wind through hers. ]
[ what a question. it's silly—despite knowing what's expected of them here, her stomach drops a little, seized momentarily by something a bit like dread; not quite shame, but close to it. she's thankful for the warm grasp of his fingers, and she considers if she should continue to impose on him more than she likely already has. he's been so kind, so generous with his time that even though she knows he has better things to concern himself with than someone like her, she can't help but maintain her hold of his hand anyway. ]
... Could I tell you something?
[ like she hasn't been doing so this whole time. ]
I've never done this before. What this game expects of us, I mean. I'm not sure I... [ she trails off, trying to find the right words, but eventually gives up. she laughs at herself, soft and brief. ] Have you?
[ Easier to talk about, to craft out of hypothesis and hope, than to put into practice. He's no different, even if he's always just done what he's needed to in a bid to see a situation through. It's not always perfect.
Gaze cutting over, there's a wider and more pronounced sheen of red, quickly subdued by the cant of his head downwards again. He doesn't want to be dishonest, but he doesn't want to bring more attention to the confession than what's due. He swallows that information down, tucks it close to the hollow of his heart. At his shoulder, the subtle weight of her presence seems more pronounced despite the way his thoughts suspend, weightless between his ears. ]
Yeah. [ A tightness wound about the truth of it like a tether, even though his hand is still prone in hers. ] I can't say I've had a lot of good experiences, mind you. But I'm not completely in the dark.
[ He shifts his shoulders against the headboard. ]
[ his answer doesn't surprise her very much, even if the curve of her eyes soften with concern. not pity, but a shared understanding of what it's like to... be taken from without a choice; to have your hand forced, maybe, while the hits just keep coming. she can't fix it, she can't change his past to prevent him from happening, but she wishes she could.
her fingers squeeze his briefly. ]
I'm sorry you had to experience that.
[ at the very least, he has more to work with than she does. ]
It's alright. Most of it happened a long time ago.
[ It hasn't faded the scars, but the ache of it all has lessened with time, with more reasons given to him to keep going. Pressed, red and resplendent, into his hands. At least until he isn't needed anymore — and therein lies the selfishness, a reason again pressed so gently into his grasp. Concern loosens his expression rather than furrows it, matched in that moment. ]
If you're having trouble, I want you to come find me.
[ her lips part in surprise before it melts down into something more tender, caught off guard by such a kind request. there's a curious ache in her chest—is it from the fact that he still considers her even now, despite everything around them? or the fact that he considers this to be selfish at all? ]
That doesn't seem very selfish to me. [ her laugh is light, a little more fond. ] But are you sure you want to offer that to me? I may end up wanting to find you more often than not.
[ He levels a look at her before he can consciously stop himself, slightly bewildered by the nature of her agreement. Of course it's selfish — why should it be him? Right now, despite the way they'd woken up, he can see they have their faculties about them. After the last however many days of revelry, of booze and smoke and preternatural heat so unlike the fires or fevers he knows, he can't guarantee that'll always be the case. ]
I just don't want you to think you don't have a choice in all this. It's selfish, asking you to choose me.
Why shouldn't I choose you? [ and before he can rattle off a whole laundry list of reasons why she really shouldn't (because she knows his type): ] Tell me, why is it that you want me to find you?
[ she has an idea. it's easy to look at his scars and see the lifetime of violence and pain and think that's all it is. but she knows scars, and she recognizes the patterns they make over his body. sometimes, you have to hurt the things you love to protect them. ]
If you told me that, I'd say... [ He knows he's caught. He walked right into her hands. ] that I don't argue with a lady.
[ Deflective, but not uncharacteristic of him.
And still, with the scant time spent here, listening to her share things with him that feel like gossamer sunlight cutting through thick grey, he thinks he knows why she hadn't let him answer the first question, instead saddling him with the second and third. Exhaling, he lifts her hand again, this time to press the flats of her knuckles to his lips. ]
I wouldn't regret you.
[ Lighter isn't familiar with the taste of defeat, but like this, he thinks he could get used to it. ]
[ it's the second time he's held her hand so closely, but this time feels completely new, if only for the sensation of his lips pressed against her skin. she can't stop the tremble this time, full-bodied rather than just in her fingers; her cheeks flush with a warmth that rivals his own, but she doesn't pull away.
it's strange—she's barely moved at all in the past few minutes, but her heart is beating so quickly. ]
I hope not. [ she's teasing a little bit; the fondness has yet to leave her expression. ] I wouldn't regret you either. I know I won't.
[ and she'll continue to tell him that, even if she has to do so for the entirety of their stay here. ]
[ Despite himself, he laughs quietly, reveling in the sensation of her skin and how it's so dissimilar from his own. ]
Now I've really gotta put my money where my mouth is. [ A little puncture mark made by well-worn grit, just to let some of the tension he'd felt breathe out. It's easier then, for some of that confidence to well into its place. His mouth follows suit, up to tender knuckles, the back of her hand. All the way to her wrist, the underside of which thrums with her pulse. It's a good feel, he thinks. ] Since you're so kindly accepting my terms.
[ Maybe he's not the best person to draw close to, but the idea of someone else wresting something so important from her for cards or money makes his gut burn.
Even loathe to make a decision, sometimes he does so. And sometimes, it changes his life. ]
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peacockstop2025-01-15 09:00 pm
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Show me one person who always gets it right. [ Not a dare, but a quiet insistence on the idea of it, pressed like hope into the harsh lines of his body— that no one is without fault. ] And I'll show you a miracle.
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it's also silly to want him to stay longer than he already has. eventually, they'll both have to leave the sanctity and comfort of this bed. maybe a part of her dreads what she'll find outside, or maybe she just likes being able to talk to someone so far removed from things like crests and bloodlines and nobility. ]
That's something I don't hear very often.
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That's a shame. [ Truthful in its brevity. ] But I guess I could say I'm familiar with thinking that way too. All or nothing.
[ You either get it right or, well.
Well.
And in his long list of poor decisions, the thought strikes him that he hopes this won't be another. For her sake, if nothing else. Lighter levels a glance downwards, gaze shadowed only slightly by the sweep of his messy bangs, the consideration creased into his brow. He extends his hand this time, beckoning for hers again. ]
You don't mind, do you?
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she's tired, she realizes the longer she sits there, counting their breaths. maybe waking up here away from the war and the bloodshed, sitting next to a man who sees her for who she is rather than what she can provide—maybe that's the miracle.
his fingers catch her attention and she looks down at them, then back up to his face, slipping her hand into his. it's getting easier, she thinks. ]
No, I don't mind at all.
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But this sensation is calmer and nearer than all of that. Her forgiving gaze on him, sweet hands willing to bear his touch. Compared to him, the smoothness of her fingers are cool in his own, so slight that they fit right against the breadth of his palm. ]
I know it seems weird to ask. [ Considering they'd already been doing this... ] But I'll bet this place makes it awfully easy to overstep if I'm not careful.
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It's not weird at all. I— [ she pauses, her expression shifting as her smile wanes, just a little. ] ... People don't tend to, where I'm from.
[ she's probably said too much, hasn't she? her fingers tremble briefly in his hold before her grip tightens around his fingers; the smile returns again, if a little helpless this time. ]
It means a lot to me. Thank you.
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They'd better while they're here. [ just saying. And then, calmer, more halting: ] I just don't want anyone to have to make a decision they'll regret, that's all. You, me...
[ Funny, how she allays some of his anxieties while stoking others. ]
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she doesn't explain herself; she doesn't need to. she has a feeling that he understands a part of it anyway. and that's something, isn't it? ]
I know. [ her other hand covers his, cradling his hand between both of hers. ] I don't want you to regret anything, either.
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Of why it is that he understands. ]
Say, Mercie. [ His voice is low and easy, as if he's trying to keep out of earshot despite them being the only two in the room. ] What do you think about this place?
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[ what does she think of this place? too much, is the first thing that comes to mind; too bright. the glitz and glamor embodies everything she doesn't like, everything that she had tried to escape as a child, only to be brought back into again because a merchant thought she could make him even wealthier than he already was.
it's a little sickening—she's seen all kinds of gruesome injuries in her lifetime, but it doesn't make her stomach churn nearly as much as this entire place does. ]
It's very fine, [ is what she settles on. ] Too fine, I think.
[ there's a moment where she looks like she wants to say more, as if debating with herself whether she should elaborate or not. honesty wins in the end— ]
We're in the middle of a war back home, you see. There isn't much left in many parts of the country, so it's a little jarring to see all of this finery... and to be surrounded by it.
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That makes sense. Luxury's pretty glaring when there's not much of it to go around. All of this must seem in pretty bad taste to you.
[ Hanging on that peripheral, he lifts his opposite hand. ]
Medic? [ He guesses. He runs his fingertips over his brow where his head had been pounding, now soothed to a near memory. ] If this was anything to go by.
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her gaze follows the path of his fingertips and her expression softens. ]
Yes. [ wryly, ] They'd tried to teach me swordsmanship, but I'm very clumsy. I'd sooner hurt myself before anyone else.
[ but anyway. ]
What about you? What do you think of this place?
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I... [ He pauses, the words slow and ashy in his throat. ] Yeah, I don't like it one bit. It's sketchy, what's happening. No matter how much I tried to grasp at what was really going on, it's like it all just kept slipping through my fingers.
[ And there's so few things that can really escape him, when he puts his focus on it. ]
Is playing the game to find out really the right choice?
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There's no reason why we can't search for a different path while playing it. If there's a way in, there must be a way out.
[ it's clear that she'd rather not play at all, but she has a feeling drawing more attention to them would be more detrimental. ]
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Despite how I look, [ scarred, well-loved by violence. ] I'd like to think I know when to fight my way out and when to hang back to get a better idea of what I'm up against. If it was just me, playing would be an easier sell.
[ Or so he thinks. In the clutch of her hands, his fingers wind through hers. ]
How do you feel about it?
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... Could I tell you something?
[ like she hasn't been doing so this whole time. ]
I've never done this before. What this game expects of us, I mean. I'm not sure I... [ she trails off, trying to find the right words, but eventually gives up. she laughs at herself, soft and brief. ] Have you?
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Gaze cutting over, there's a wider and more pronounced sheen of red, quickly subdued by the cant of his head downwards again. He doesn't want to be dishonest, but he doesn't want to bring more attention to the confession than what's due. He swallows that information down, tucks it close to the hollow of his heart. At his shoulder, the subtle weight of her presence seems more pronounced despite the way his thoughts suspend, weightless between his ears. ]
Yeah. [ A tightness wound about the truth of it like a tether, even though his hand is still prone in hers. ] I can't say I've had a lot of good experiences, mind you. But I'm not completely in the dark.
[ He shifts his shoulders against the headboard. ]
Can I make a selfish request this time?
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her fingers squeeze his briefly. ]
I'm sorry you had to experience that.
[ at the very least, he has more to work with than she does. ]
Of course you can. What is it?
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[ It hasn't faded the scars, but the ache of it all has lessened with time, with more reasons given to him to keep going. Pressed, red and resplendent, into his hands. At least until he isn't needed anymore — and therein lies the selfishness, a reason again pressed so gently into his grasp. Concern loosens his expression rather than furrows it, matched in that moment. ]
If you're having trouble, I want you to come find me.
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That doesn't seem very selfish to me. [ her laugh is light, a little more fond. ] But are you sure you want to offer that to me? I may end up wanting to find you more often than not.
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I just don't want you to think you don't have a choice in all this. It's selfish, asking you to choose me.
[ But he's not going back on it. ]
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Why shouldn't I choose you? [ and before he can rattle off a whole laundry list of reasons why she really shouldn't (because she knows his type): ] Tell me, why is it that you want me to find you?
[ she has an idea. it's easy to look at his scars and see the lifetime of violence and pain and think that's all it is. but she knows scars, and she recognizes the patterns they make over his body. sometimes, you have to hurt the things you love to protect them. ]
What if I told you I had already made up my mind?
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[ Deflective, but not uncharacteristic of him.
And still, with the scant time spent here, listening to her share things with him that feel like gossamer sunlight cutting through thick grey, he thinks he knows why she hadn't let him answer the first question, instead saddling him with the second and third. Exhaling, he lifts her hand again, this time to press the flats of her knuckles to his lips. ]
I wouldn't regret you.
[ Lighter isn't familiar with the taste of defeat, but like this, he thinks he could get used to it. ]
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it's strange—she's barely moved at all in the past few minutes, but her heart is beating so quickly. ]
I hope not. [ she's teasing a little bit; the fondness has yet to leave her expression. ] I wouldn't regret you either. I know I won't.
[ and she'll continue to tell him that, even if she has to do so for the entirety of their stay here. ]
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Now I've really gotta put my money where my mouth is. [ A little puncture mark made by well-worn grit, just to let some of the tension he'd felt breathe out. It's easier then, for some of that confidence to well into its place. His mouth follows suit, up to tender knuckles, the back of her hand. All the way to her wrist, the underside of which thrums with her pulse. It's a good feel, he thinks. ] Since you're so kindly accepting my terms.
[ Maybe he's not the best person to draw close to, but the idea of someone else wresting something so important from her for cards or money makes his gut burn.
Even loathe to make a decision, sometimes he does so. And sometimes, it changes his life. ]
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