【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.
It has recently come to our attention that many of our guests have not been focusing on their health and wellness. In an effort to encourage healthy living and help our beloved guests get in shape, a grand sports festival will be held in the Golden Peacock. This sports festival will include many small games and four large games.
Prior to the festival, guests will have the opportunity to train and prepare for the games with our expert coaches.
We hope you are as excited as we are! And, as always, we hope you enjoy your stay. 】
BEAK
MEET THE TEAM
♦ DIAMONDS GAME ♦
OMEGADOME: HUNTING GAME
A cheerful pair of game managers stand outside the conservatory doors and block all guests that try to enter. They quickly explain that a special Diamonds game is taking place inside and only guests that agree to participate may enter. This game is a physical exercise that riffs on "Hunting", which is a popular sport in many different countries and civilizations. Of course, it is one hundred percent safe, and all guests that play are eligible to win massive chip prizes, store vouchers, fabulous prizes, and more.
Details about the game? Those can't be shared outside of the conservatory. Only the brave and those willing to risks will reap the benefits of this Diamonds game. So step right up, dear guests, and sign this waiver before stepping into the flourishing beauty of the conservatory for a brand new adventure.
♥ HEARTS GAME ♥
DOUBLES' THERMO: SURVIVAL GAME
Chickadees is sparing no expense on advertising their e-sport games over the course of the sports festival. Posters, notifications, stickers, fliers! Come one, come all. Sports don't need to be physical. Guests that duck into the arcade will find a variety of e-sport games to enjoy, but the real showstopper that every single employee is aggressively promoting is the new immersive VR game, DOUBLES' THERMO.
A large swath of egg-shaped pods have been installed in the back half of Chickadees. Any guest that shows an iota of interest will be assaulted by employees encouraging them to give it a try. They will offer vouchers for a free session, encourage with mentions of prizes that can be won from the arcade's coveted prize wall, and persuade by praising how high tech and immersive the experience is. Some employees are desperate enough to trick or push guests into the pods if they aren't willing to go in themselves.
However they've ended up inside the VR egg, guests will find themselves submerged in strange fluid as the lid closes. Everything fades away into darkness as the game loads...
♣ CLUBS GAME ♣
QUACK AND COVER: SHOOTING GAME
Cloaca & Dagger has temporarily outfitted itself as a neon-bright paintball course. Gone are the wild sex setups in exchange for series of obstacles and obstructions for guests to navigate while in pursuit of paintball championship. This high intensity game of strategy and physical fitness promises to exhilarate! Welcome to Quack and Cover, a game where your shooting skills and ingenuity will be put to the test.
So say the game managers at the door before following up with a few disclaimers. Cloaca & Dagger is not responsible for any physical or psychological trauma guests may incur while inside. Guests that join the game will then be outfitted in tight black underarmor and supplied with a paintball gun and protective mask before being let loose on the course.
♠ SPADES GAME ♠
PECKING ORDER: MMA GAME
During night hours, many long-standing guests make their way through Talon toward the gym’s creaky basement stairs. Three floors down and then through a desolate hallway with littered with abandoned equipment. Double doors wait at the end, unassuming until they’ve been opened…
Flashing lights, jeers, and the thick odor of sweat. You’ve found the Pecking Order, a late-night mixed martial arts event where guests show their prowess in the ring. Spectating guests shout and messily eat snacks on make-shift bleachers while fighters clash inches away, using only their bodies to fight for dominance and win. Pecking Order is very informal; guests only need to sign up in order to get added to the docket. Anyone can watch, though they will be vaguely warned at the door that even spectating comes with risks.
LOCKER ROOMS
YOU WASH MY BACK, I'LL WASH YOURS
Every training and game location has a door labeled LOCKER ROOM right outside the entrance. These doors all connect to the same massive locker room. The magic of these locker room doors goes one way. Trying to go back to the place you just were by backtracking will not work — you’ll just end up in Beak! All guests will be advised to finish their games before hitting the showers.
The Golden Peacock is proud to present our upgraded and extended locker room. Please come in and enjoy the facilities, catch-up with your teammates, and enjoy some healthy drinks provided by our favorite resort convenience store, Cock-a-doodle-doo’s!
▶ 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 March 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.
▶ 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.
G'raha couldn't remember the last time he woke up somewhere wholly unfamiliar, and this small... bunk? Well, it was leagues away from the comfort of his quarters in the Baldesion Annex, and didn't smell like old books and the stale piece of Archon loaf from a few days prior. The next puzzling thing had been the sudden change of clothing. Gone were just comfortably cozy pajamas, adorned with chocobos; instead there was something odd, and black, and mostly see-through that barely went past his nipples. His senses weren't screaming at him that he was in danger, so he sat up just enough to glance down at himself only for his suspicions to be confirmed: his lower extremities were only covered in what could scarcely be called shorts, they were so, well, short. His ears flattened against his head in shock-- just where had his pajamas gone? Moreover, where were his clothes?
He peeked around the edge of the curtain that separated his bunk from the outside, feline pupils quickly slitted against the change in light. He could hear his tail anxiously batting against the bedlinens while he took stock of the situation beyond his temporary enclosure, and... wait, what was that beeping sound? It took a long moment for him to look at his wrist, and a quiet sound of confused wonder parted his lips at the text he read there. This place was technologically advanced, then, far more than where and when he'd come from.
By the time he finally eased out of his bunk and toward the field, it was well past 0615 hours, and he was told of his assignment for the day. Being a gopher suited him just fine, helping others was his bread and butter! The only physical activity he'd ever excelled at was archery, but it had been an age since he'd practiced it. As the day went on, he found it was easier to ignore what he was wearing, as most of the others present were in similar states.
Sometime after the second 'meal' break, he made the rounds to hand out water. To the next person that said yes, he offered out a chilled bottle with a smile. "Here you are, then. Even a bookworm such as myself knows that hydration is important."
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ɪɪ.) ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀᴅᴏᴍᴇ: ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴍᴇ
(cw: omegaverse tropes)
Of all of the games, this one had seemed the most intriguing, at least from the outside. While he was missing out on the chance to venture to a land most of the populace was scarcely aware of, the thought of spending time in somewhere lush and green was something of a balm to his spirit, even in such an unfamiliar place. Hunting was something he had spent his formative years learning, back in Corvos, and while he doubted he'd find a bow, this sort of thing was in his blood.
Or at least, that was what he thought before he'd signed a waiver, stepped inside, and had the contraption on his wrist beep at him once more. A sex game? What?! Even after so long, he clearly remembered his first (and only) time being intimate with someone, a hushed, fumbling affair deep in the shelves of the Noumenon on the eve of earning his Archon marks... The sound of a branch snapping in the distance made his ears twitch and broke him out of his reverie, while his tail lashed in annoyance behind him.
By the Twelve, just was sort of place had he woken up in?
He shook his head briefly, then stretched out his hands-- perhaps it might be a good idea to find a tree to climb. But he'd scarcely begun to slink around the outer edge of the dome when he felt something in him shift. His senses were already heightened when compared to a Hyur, but suddenly the scents he'd been vaguely aware of hung thick in the air. Even his own, he realized with a start. He smelled... sweet? His mind raced through all that he'd studied about the mating tendencies of other species and while that admittedly wasn't much, he knew what it meant.
He was an omega, and he was the prey.
His first instinct was to take off at a run, but that would only draw more attention. Instead, he kept his easy walking pace, began to angle further into the dome. His hopes of hiding up a tree were dashed at the sound of another twig snapping-- this time much, much closer. He whirled toward the source of the sound, hands held up defensively.
"Who goes there?" he demanded, and found he disliked the way his nostrils flared to catch the stranger's scent just after he finished speaking.
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ɪɪɪ.) ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
(G'raha's info, permissions, and kink list can be found here! Interested in all of the Locker Rooms activities, as well, especially given that most everything will be a new experience to him. Have anything else in mind? Let's do it! Feel free to PM here or hit me up on Plurk if you want to discuss anything prior to doing so. ♥)
Edited ((Forgor a whole word there dang)) 2025-03-16 12:01 (UTC)
Vanitas didn't like to be touched by strangers, so he followed the crowd into the dome to avoid any physical interactions with the staff, and once he realized the nature of the game, he was pleased to realize his designation was alpha. So let the hunt begin.
He moved through the trees quietly, following his senses toward something he couldn't quite put his finger on. If this was meant to be a hunting game, he would not leave defeated. As he approached his prey, it became more difficult to remain undetected. Vanitas positions himself behind a tree thicker than himself, dressed in a black athletic jumpsuit that would certainly give away his location if he got any closer.
However he did get a look at his target, and felt the beginnings of a smile on his features as he exposes himself from the shadows, walking calmly toward the stranger, expression charismatic and welcoming although his intentions were anything but. "Well hello. What do we have here?" Vanitas gestures to the top of his head where G'raha's ears are.
While the stranger in some manner of black garb looked calm and was smiling at him, there was still something about his scent that put G'raha on edge. He wasn't sure if it was for good or ill, and, as of yet, he had no idea if any sort of illusory magicks were possible in this strange place.
His ears canted back when attention was called to them, and rather than taking a step back, he shifted his weight to be ready to spring away if needed.
"My ears. Have you never seen or heard of a Miqo'te before?" It was true that he hadn't spotted many non-Hyur appearing individuals during those hours as a gopher the day prior, but... Surely... "Sometimes known as Mystel, or Hhetsarro?"
Vanitas' curiosity got the better of him, and he descended upon G'raha's personal space without warning, touching the backs of his fingers to one of his ears curiously. As easily as one might cautiously approach a house cat.
"No. Never. We don't have those where I'm from." He responded truthfully for a change, "Do all of you smell this nice?" Vanitas asked, shaking his head. "Although I have seen cursed vampires that go through transformations into horrific beasts." He was silent, considering, then grabbed G'raha by the chin, trying to pry his mouth open. "You're not a vampire are you?"
And if at any point G'raha seemed apprehensive: "Don't worry. I'm a doctor." Vanitas smiled, broad and charismatic with a little darkness peeking through at the corners.
G'raha's other ear twitched away, but the one that came into contact with the man's fingers remained erect and-- he could feel that his face was more heated than it had been just moments before. He swallowed thickly, his slitted pupils dialating from their proximity to each other, but... mostly to this stranger's scent.
"I... believe my scent is a recent development," he managed to say past just how much his body screamed at him to fling off his mesh clothing and demand to be taken. Was this what being in heat was like? The small remaining logical part of his brain was glad that he hadn't had to deal with this regularly. His brows raised but he allowed his mouth to be pried open- while his teeth were a touch sharper than those of a Hyur, they weren't the visibly pointed canines that Keepers of the Moon sported.
"A doctor?" he echoed, once it was safe to speak without risk of nipping the man's skin. There was something chilling about that smile, one that called to mind the antagonists of his life's journey thus far, but this was a whole new place to him, and it was wrong to judge a book by its cover.
The hunt was thrilling, but the points were earned from what comes after. His pray hadn't put up much of a fight so far, so Vanitas wondered if it was like this with all other participants, or if this one in particular just called to him that much louder than the others.
"You are just delightful." He smiled, gently stroking G'raha's ear again before withdrawing his hand. Vanitas had very good self-restraint in spite of the ways he'd like to see if he could make other parts of G'raha twitch that way. "Yes. A vampire doctor."
But without the grimoire he was powerless to continue his work here. Hence the brief little detour to finding a way to win the game and escape this place. It shouldn't be too difficult. Without realizing it, he began to pace around G'raha slowly, looking him over. He noticed his tail at last, and then way his fingers curled at the tips. Undeniably feline, he noted mentally, humming as he stopped circling to stand directly in front of him instead. "But I admit, that I'm very curious about you. Not human, nor vampire. Something else entirely. How fascinating. I'd like to see more."
Zoro has no interest in these "e-sports" the flyers keep blaring about. Give him a good spar with swords any day over button-mashing—after all, he'd never even seen a video game before arriving at the Golden Peacock nearly two months ago.
But then... one of the overly enthusiastic employees, practically vibrating with excitement, mentions that the grand prize for this "DOUBLES' THERMO" game is the Best Liquor On The Whole Resort, a brew apparently so exclusive it can't be found anywhere else. That catches his attention. Best liquor, huh? Worth considering, maybe. He stands there, arms crossed, still weighing the pros and cons when the employee, growing impatient, claps a hand on his shoulder. "Just hop in and see what it's like before committing to play!" the employee says with a too-bright smile, already steering him towards one of the egg-shaped pods. Before Zoro can fully process the words, he finds himself being gently but firmly guided inside.
The next thing he knows, he's submerged in some sort of clear fluid (eugh!), and then darkness. When his eyes open again, sand crunches under his bare feet. Where the fuck are his shoes? He looks down to see himself in the familiar white shirt, black pants, and green haramaki he wore the day he first met his captain, Luffy. A strange wave of... something... washes over him. Nostalgia? Whatever it is, it brings a brief pang to his chest. He shakes his head. No time for sentiment. Nevermind the fact that he's already spent a significant part of the last two weeks inspecting every statue in the resort ever since Luffy disappeared.
His watch pings, but Zoro is so used to ignoring it half the time that he doesn't even glance at the message. Instead, he stands there on the beach, squinting against the blinding glare of the sun. Thermo Island feels unsettlingly real. Just as he's about to pick a direction (likely the wrong one) and start walking, a figure sits up in the sand a short distance away. The person is cloaked in a long, intricately detailed robe, the hood pulled up to obscure their features. It gives them a regal look, though the robe is completely impractical for the location. Zoro would normally judge them, but he realizes the stranger must have had just as much control over their outfit as he does.
Zoro watches the figure reach up and slowly lower the hood. A head of red hair is revealed, and then Zoro notices the...pointy headgear? Well that's odd. Kind of looks like a cat's ears. Maybe it's a headband. He really can't quite place what they are from this distance, but he swears he just saw them twitch.
The swordsman realizes this other person hasn't yet noticed him, so he simply keeps watching as they glance around, a look of confusion on their face. Zoro observes them quietly for a while, noting the way their brow furrows slightly, a touch of fluster in their movements.
Zoro scans the beach. There's no one else around. Huh. Maybe this liquor prize is going to be more trouble than it's worth if he has to deal with lost-looking strangers in fancy dress. Still, there's something about the intense red of their eyes that catches his attention, even from afar. He sighs internally. Might as well see what this is all about.
"Hey." His voice is a little gruff, but it's not on purpose. That's just the default. "Are you trying out this game, too?" He still thinks he's just in a demo. Bless his heart.
hey hi spoilers for ffxiv through at least shadowbringers 5.3 past this point! ♥
G'raha doesn't know what an e-sport is, much less VR, but he was interested in learning all he could about technology. Of course he is! This is leaps and bounds beyond what he knows of ancient Allag, and the chance to experience it first hand is enough to get him to step into one of the strange pods. No prizes needed! And, given his experiences in this strange place thus far, he isn't sure the prizes would have been to his taste. The lid closes, he's engulfed in some sort of liquid, and then there is only darkness.
And then, light. Nearly as blinding and all-encompassing as it had been on the First, or at least it feels that way when he first opens his eyes. He's already getting a bit tired of waking up in new places, but now it also comes with a distinct sense of... of wrongness. Once the light is less blinding, he can see that his hair is colorless at the tips, and that much of his periphery is blocked by a familiar, heavy hood.
He sits up with a start, takes a breath of the fresh seaside air, and reaches up to gently lower the hood. Mostly so his ears can spring free, and they twitch in the direction of... something or someone else. He knows, without looking down, that his body is as it was during most of his time as the Crystal Exarch. He does look down, turning his hands over to mentally drive home the fact that his right arm is, indeed, crystalized. He senses no connection to the Crystal Tower here, but he's still able to move it without forcing aether into it... how very odd. He glances over his immediate surroundings, somewhat relieved to find that he's without the staff that served him as a focus during those difficult times-- while it means he won't have access to any of those magical capabilities, it also means that his power is instead his own.
The sound of a voice makes him flinch, ears drawn back slightly, but the words are a welcome distraction, indeed.
"...game? What game?" Carefully, he gets to his feet, and rather than brushing the sand off of his lavish layers, he instead begins to undo them, beginning with the gilded belt that holds on the red sleeve and overskirt. He's already hot, and even if this body feels like his one on the Source and not the one that had staved off aging through powerful magical means, he's not keen on getting heat stroke. "I wanted to learn about the technology within those... pods."
He turns, then, and looks toward the taller figure, the green hair noted but not out of the ordinary, as far as he's concerned. The man looks... strong. Capable. A good sort to have on his side during the course of whatever strange journey the Twelve have sent him on this time.
"We're in a video game. Place looks real, but it isn't." That's as much of an explanation as he can provide, really.
Now that Zoro is closer, he can get a better look at the other man. At least he thinks he's a man, because he quickly realizes the headband he's wearing is actually not a headband, but the man's ears. Cat ears. A cat man?
"You're a cat," he states matter-of-factly, nodding his head like he's used to so many fresh revelations now. He still gets surprised, but the impact and duration are much shorter. "A cat man," he amends a moment later, like he worries his initial observation might be offensive.
The ears aren't the only interesting thing about him. Zoro watches silently as G'raha sheds some of his layers, noting that what he'd thought was a blue glove before is actually a blue arm. "Cool arm," he says. "What's it do?"
G'raha wants to ask what a video game is, because he's simply never heard of such a thing before- he knows of the games at the Gold Saucer, but those are tests of skill on a scale that increases depending on the payout. Looks real but isn't is a lot more helpful, and his expression is thoughtful as he removes the ornate neck piece worn over the robes, holding it in his normal hand rather than the 'blue' one.
He gives pause for just a moment-- he'd never disrobed in front of anyone during his time on the First. He'd been a wise, kind, well-respected leader, nearly faceless; it would have endangered his mission to let anyone grow close enough to want to disrobe him. But then he's called a cat, and his ears droop.
"Miqo'te," he corrects gently, glancing just briefly toward the man before he undoes the fastenings that keep the robe on. He shrugs out of the dark, heavy fabric to be left in comfortable capri pants which, thankfully, have pockets-- the neck piece is tucked into one, and he steps out of the pool of fabric to start folding and rolling it up, making it as small as possible. This also makes it plain that most of his torso is seemingly made up of the same crystal, lancing across his chest, most of his neck save for his throat, and down his hip on the same side as his arm.
"I... have not looked this way in some time," he starts, brows furrowing. He can deal with the ugly swell of emotions later, how ugly he feels like this, when he has time alone. "It was a price I paid to stave off the passage of time, to be able to save someone that..." He trails off, firmly closing his eyes. The Warrior of Light had set off for Tuliyollal not half a sun before he'd gone to bed and woken up here. He shakes his head slightly, visage set with determination. "Someone dear to me."
He finishes folding the black fabric, and wraps and tucks the red layer around it, then twists and folds the white layer into straps to keep the bundle tucked against his back. Parts of it could come in handy, thus he wouldn't be leaving it behind, even with the mostly negative memories associated with the garment.
"Ah, but where are my manners. G'raha Tia, at your service," he says with a small bow. "Have you any idea of what we're supposed to be doing in here?"
Perhaps due to the time he's spent in this place, for one wild moment, when G'raha begins removing his robe, Zoro thinks it's so they can get down to business.
And yet... nothing else about G'raha's actions seem to indicate that, so maybe he's just trying to beat the sun.
He doesn't know much about cats, but he does know that the way G'raha's ears droop makes him feel like a criminal. A bad one, like the kind he used to hunt, not the kind he calls crewmates. He feels like he should apologize. Instead, Zoro clears his throat. "Miqo'te," he repeats, trying to copy the exact pronunciation as his penance. Maybe it sounds a little funny on his tongue, not only because the word is foreign to him, but also because G'raha's accent is different from his. Still, he manages a surprisingly decent approximation.
The Miqo'te seems lost in his own thoughts, but he says them out loud, so Zoro listens. Questions form in his head, the primary of which being: what exactly does G'raha mean by stave off the passage of time? That sounds impossible! It's his first indication that there might be much more to G'raha than meets the eyes. Nevermind the fact that half of his flesh is blue, and looks more like some kind of magical stone than actual flesh.
But the other man interrupts himself before Zoro can interject, and he looks a little surprised when he finds himself being presented with a small bow. He returns it instinctually, the gesture familiar from his own home. "Roronoa Zoro," he says. "I have no idea."
Except—he isn't brand new to this place anymore, and he has learned a thing or two. How many times have resort staff and other guests alike redirected him to his watch before? (How much money do I have? Check your watch. How do I get to this place? Use your watch. How do I talk to Nami when she's not nearby? Your watch, dumbass.)
"We should check our watches," he says dryly, finally looking down at it. He frowns as he lifts his wrist, squinting as he starts reading the message, then remembering quickly what one of his new friends has recently shown him (thank you, Weiss). With a few swipes, the words are projected into the air above his watch screen, and he reads it out loud for the both of them, sounding increasingly annoyed with every word.
Zoro is frowning by the end. "What the fuck is a significant emotional connection?" No really, what is it? This man has been a lone wolf for most of his life, and it's only recently that he's begun to come to terms with how attached he's become to his own crewmates. Now he's expected to do that all over again with a stranger? For a game? "Fuck this place," he grumbles under his breath. That bottle of alcohol better be worth it.
"We need water," are his next words, because he could be grumpy, or he could be grumpy and productive. "Weather seems nice. So water, food, then shelter." He meets G'raha's eyes, as if to ask if he's in agreement. They're meant to be partners, after all, though time will tell if Zoro can truly rely on him. He tries not to jump to conclusions, but G'raha's fancy clothes makes him wonder if the other man knows anything about surviving in the wild.
Not all bookworms were destined for the gopher life, on this day. If anything, a strict training regimen may be the least objectionable thing impressed upon them, from Ratio’s point of view; even the clothing provided, as scant as it were, at least offered the added benefit of functionality. An abandoned track jacket easily compensates for the lack of any other top, and the shorts… are passable, in length. If there is one thing being trapped in a mysterious prisonlike casino has to teach, it’s to accept whatever victories there are to be had.
The water is then similarly accepted, though G’raha’s comment earns him a look tinged with a disparaging air. A firm hand takes the bottle, and an equally firm voice follows.
“While reading is an admirable hobby, it shouldn’t come at the expense of your physical ability.” The bottle is pointed back at G’raha, its cap serving to punctuate Ratio’s words. “Are you truly content to let yourself stagnate as you run errands for the demanding fools this place passes for athletes?”
The look alone makes G'raha shrink back, the tone as he's chastized causing his ears to droop. It's been some time, indeed, since he's felt so cowed. His arms draw up, hands curled into paws, ruby eyes gone slightly wide.
Then, they narrow in determination.
"I do not feel as though I am stagnating... though I am not familiar with the term athlete, this kind of running around is something I am used to." It isn't the same as delving into a dungeon, or rushing across a battlefield to slam a shield between a monster and a friend; it's far more akin to gathering tomes and scrolls from the Noumenon for the professors he'd studied under prior to obtaining his Archon marks. "I did not mean to cause offense."
It's good, to see a bit of backbone show; though Ratio does not outwardly give any indication of his approval, there's self-satisfied air to the way he pauses to actually drink from the water bottle prior to answering. A brief swig, nothing more, and the bottle is set aside for a later moment.
"Offense isn't the issue," and that much is true. Whatever dissatisfaction he has with the system is not G'raha's problem—he's merely the unfortunate recipient of a portion of that annoyance. Whether the man impressing that upon him is cognizant of such a fact remains ambiguous. For the time being... Ratio turns to G'raha with a renewed sort of purpose, one motivated by something beyond the the conceits the house presents upon them.
"If you're 'used to' such a thing, then let's begin. Three laps." Something in his voice implies there's no room for argument. Indeed, whether he's accompanied or not, he'll start the assignment barely a breath after its given.
G'raha is a number of things, and while he usually can read people well, this place-- and just waking up in what was decidedly not his bed at the Baldesion Annex-- has him a bit out of sorts. The man is stern, he's gathered that much, but past that... well. Perhaps he'll figure it out someday.
Because on this day, he rocks back onto his heels at the sudden command to run three laps, looking gob-smacked after Ratio. He wars with himself for a moment-- he's a gopher, supposed to help instead of train, but if someone who is training tells him to get to it, then--
He shakes off any uncertainty, shifts the weight of the insulated bag, and takes off at a jog after Ratio. He's usually better with short bursts of speed, and he has nowhere near the strength capabilities of most of his comrades save the twins, but damned if he's going to be fully left in the dust!
A brisk, but not unreasonable pace is what he sets for them, or so he would say. Four minutes for a mere half-mile isn't too much to ask, is it? That's his best approximation of the indoor track, at least; given the lack of precise measurements, it's what they have to work with. Regardless of pacing or success, he's pleased to see G'raha rising to the occasion. There's little else he could ask for, all things considered.
The jog itself is less important. What does matter is afterwards, as they naturally come to a close where they began. The water bottle, once kindly offered, is retrieved once more. This time, it's held out to G'raha for consideration. Gophers receive little benefit, and as far as sharing drinks goes—
This place demands significantly worse from them.
"I don't care for the stratification they're attempting to force upon us." Perhaps a mild statement, given the lead-in to their entire excursion. "No one deserves to be denied the opportunity to better themselves, nor is any one person entitled to being waited on."
[ John's just as new to this place as G'raha, and while he's an alpha, he's been trying to feel his way out with this new place, these new rules, even enjoy the scenery of the conservatory for it's own sake. That he'd ended up following G'raha is more a matter of his unfamiliarity with having a body, with being led by impulses that are purely 'instinctual'... and a certain amount of curiosity about his tail and ears. After all, he knows about cats and he's certainly met humans, but he's never met... a cat human.
The whirl and the defensive hands have him backing up as well, not wanting to startle him, and he'll hold up his own similarly. ]
John. [ It's his name, and pretty much the only solid identifier he has. Is he a Great Old One? Is he a god? He doesn't fucking know. But he does know that he's John. It's helpful that way. ] Just... figuring out how the fuck this all works right now. I didn't mean to startle you.
[ The stranger-- John-- smells amazing. Better than the best food G'raha's ever had the opportunity to try. (Archon loaf is better than hardtack as far as nutrition goes, but neither one is a culinary wonder of the senses.) His lips part slightly, and he's almost certain he can taste John's scent. His ears and tail twitch a bit, and he takes a few halting steps closer.
Twelve, but this John fellow is tall. He hasn't felt so short since being around Roegadyn and male Au Ra.
He manages a smile despite how flushed his face has become, despite the liquid heat now thrumming through his veins. ] Perhaps we can figure it out together. G'raha Tia, at your service.
[ He catches the twitching... and it makes his eyes bright. It's... cute, something he hasn't thought very often at all. But he can't say it isn't true. The flush is something else, enticing, and he leans a little closer, letting his scent bloom in the air around them both. He wants G'raha Tia to smell it, for some reason, wants him to breath it in and enjoy it the way he's enjoying G'raha Tia's scent.]
It's good to meet you, G'raha Tia. You smell... very good.
[ The last words hold a low, hungry growl and he reaches over to offer his hand. That's what you do to introduce yourself, right? It's not just to touch him. ]
[ John's smell sweeps around G'raha like it's carried on an eternal wind, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating from it, his body reacting... as he's come to expect, inside this accursed dome. He feels flushed from the tips of his ears all the way to his toes, slick in a way that-- while he's unused to it-- is certainly helpful.
He takes the proffered hand, knees nearly giving out just to have skin to skin contact with this alpha. ]
As... as do you... [ He's a touch too dazed to remember any more pleasantries, pardon him. ]
[ Touch is so electric. He's still not used to it in general, let alone with the added effect of the scents in the air, the changes in his body, the way all of his senses contribute to it. It's why when he takes G'raha Tia's hand, he doesn't grip it because he doesn't need to. Instead, he lets all of his fingers slide into place to give it a small squeeze, breathe in deep at the way their scents are mingling. It's not genteel, exactly, but it is... savoring. Savoring all of it, all of him. ]
Granted, Jun hasn't met many people willingly calling themselves bookworms, but those he does know are fine enough. The quietness of libraries and being surrounded by books can feel almost heavenly. Though the resort's current noisy state pales in comparison, Jun can't help but find the current "pecking orders" among the residents rather unfair.
Even so, Jun has weathered worse conditions here, and clothes are just clothes—even if your midriff happens to be on full display.
"Hey, thanks!" With all smiles back, Jun takes the water bottle from G'raha's outstretched hand, downing it almost in one go. "Guess you're one of 'em today, huh~? Y'know, the "Gophers"! Guess I'd say unless you're just helpin' outta the kindness of ya heart."
Jun's brows arched as he turned to scrutinise G'raha's words, almost curious why he's going along with these inane demands from the House. "Or maybe stayin' up late being a "bookworm" makes ya sleep in and miss the first roll call!"
He's just playfully teasing, not realising that waking up before 6am every single morning is hardly a normal or comfortable routine for most people.
Though G'raha was a new arrival to this strange place, it's already been something of a rarity to meet someone quite so talkative. Jun's manner of speaking took G'raha a few seconds to figure out, but he shrugged at first, only to briefly tilt his head to one side at the accusation that followed.
"I am not much of an- I believe the word is athletic- sort," he said with a bit of a laugh, and he shifted his hod on the insulated bag that was piled high with bottles of water. The bottles weren't glass, as he'd been expecting, but something much lighter and durable. "I suppose I stay in shape thanks to my travels, thus I would have chosen to be a gopher regardless."
Strangly enough, if G'raha had met him years ago, Jun wouldn't have ever been as friendly as he is currently. When the most annoying person imaginable takes you under their wing, well, that's truly when life begins to change. Regardless, the meaning made him chuckle in response, not that Jun figured it out from looking at G'raha alone.
"Right, that sorta makes sense the more I learn," he nodded again, sneaking a quick glance towards the bag. "But looks like you're not doin' too bad carrying that 'round." The fact he can without a complaint only adds to that. "Huh~? You've gotta be the first who'd admit that sorta thing willingly. Not like I'd complain either, but no one wants to be one of 'em. But whatever! You'd travel 'round a lot, then?"
"This is far lighter than the stacks of books I carried around the Studium until I got my Archon marks, I assure you." G'raha nodded firmly, and while he shifted the bag slightly, he still wasn't straining under the weight of it.
At the question about travel, his ears perked up before both they and his tail wiggled in what could only be described as a happy manner. "Yes, especially alongside my heroes," he said, eyes gone slightly out of focused and altogether starry.
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peacockstop2025-03-15 09:00 pm
G'raha Tia ◆ Final Fantasy XIV ◆ New Character
ɪ.) ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ → ʜɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ғɪᴇʟᴅ
G'raha couldn't remember the last time he woke up somewhere wholly unfamiliar, and this small... bunk? Well, it was leagues away from the comfort of his quarters in the Baldesion Annex, and didn't smell like old books and the stale piece of Archon loaf from a few days prior. The next puzzling thing had been the sudden change of clothing. Gone were just comfortably cozy pajamas, adorned with chocobos; instead there was something odd, and black, and mostly see-through that barely went past his nipples. His senses weren't screaming at him that he was in danger, so he sat up just enough to glance down at himself only for his suspicions to be confirmed: his lower extremities were only covered in what could scarcely be called shorts, they were so, well, short. His ears flattened against his head in shock-- just where had his pajamas gone? Moreover, where were his clothes?
He peeked around the edge of the curtain that separated his bunk from the outside, feline pupils quickly slitted against the change in light. He could hear his tail anxiously batting against the bedlinens while he took stock of the situation beyond his temporary enclosure, and... wait, what was that beeping sound? It took a long moment for him to look at his wrist, and a quiet sound of confused wonder parted his lips at the text he read there. This place was technologically advanced, then, far more than where and when he'd come from.
By the time he finally eased out of his bunk and toward the field, it was well past 0615 hours, and he was told of his assignment for the day. Being a gopher suited him just fine, helping others was his bread and butter! The only physical activity he'd ever excelled at was archery, but it had been an age since he'd practiced it. As the day went on, he found it was easier to ignore what he was wearing, as most of the others present were in similar states.
Sometime after the second 'meal' break, he made the rounds to hand out water. To the next person that said yes, he offered out a chilled bottle with a smile. "Here you are, then. Even a bookworm such as myself knows that hydration is important."
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ɪɪ.) ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀᴅᴏᴍᴇ: ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴍᴇ
(cw: omegaverse tropes)
Of all of the games, this one had seemed the most intriguing, at least from the outside. While he was missing out on the chance to venture to a land most of the populace was scarcely aware of, the thought of spending time in somewhere lush and green was something of a balm to his spirit, even in such an unfamiliar place. Hunting was something he had spent his formative years learning, back in Corvos, and while he doubted he'd find a bow, this sort of thing was in his blood.
Or at least, that was what he thought before he'd signed a waiver, stepped inside, and had the contraption on his wrist beep at him once more. A sex game? What?! Even after so long, he clearly remembered his first (and only) time being intimate with someone, a hushed, fumbling affair deep in the shelves of the Noumenon on the eve of earning his Archon marks... The sound of a branch snapping in the distance made his ears twitch and broke him out of his reverie, while his tail lashed in annoyance behind him.
By the Twelve, just was sort of place had he woken up in?
He shook his head briefly, then stretched out his hands-- perhaps it might be a good idea to find a tree to climb. But he'd scarcely begun to slink around the outer edge of the dome when he felt something in him shift. His senses were already heightened when compared to a Hyur, but suddenly the scents he'd been vaguely aware of hung thick in the air. Even his own, he realized with a start. He smelled... sweet? His mind raced through all that he'd studied about the mating tendencies of other species and while that admittedly wasn't much, he knew what it meant.
He was an omega, and he was the prey.
His first instinct was to take off at a run, but that would only draw more attention. Instead, he kept his easy walking pace, began to angle further into the dome. His hopes of hiding up a tree were dashed at the sound of another twig snapping-- this time much, much closer. He whirled toward the source of the sound, hands held up defensively.
"Who goes there?" he demanded, and found he disliked the way his nostrils flared to catch the stranger's scent just after he finished speaking.
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ɪɪɪ.) ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ
(G'raha's info, permissions, and kink list can be found here! Interested in all of the Locker Rooms activities, as well, especially given that most everything will be a new experience to him. Have anything else in mind? Let's do it! Feel free to PM here or hit me up on Plurk if you want to discuss anything prior to doing so. ♥)
II
He moved through the trees quietly, following his senses toward something he couldn't quite put his finger on. If this was meant to be a hunting game, he would not leave defeated. As he approached his prey, it became more difficult to remain undetected. Vanitas positions himself behind a tree thicker than himself, dressed in a black athletic jumpsuit that would certainly give away his location if he got any closer.
However he did get a look at his target, and felt the beginnings of a smile on his features as he exposes himself from the shadows, walking calmly toward the stranger, expression charismatic and welcoming although his intentions were anything but. "Well hello. What do we have here?" Vanitas gestures to the top of his head where G'raha's ears are.
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His ears canted back when attention was called to them, and rather than taking a step back, he shifted his weight to be ready to spring away if needed.
"My ears. Have you never seen or heard of a Miqo'te before?" It was true that he hadn't spotted many non-Hyur appearing individuals during those hours as a gopher the day prior, but... Surely... "Sometimes known as Mystel, or Hhetsarro?"
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"No. Never. We don't have those where I'm from." He responded truthfully for a change, "Do all of you smell this nice?" Vanitas asked, shaking his head. "Although I have seen cursed vampires that go through transformations into horrific beasts." He was silent, considering, then grabbed G'raha by the chin, trying to pry his mouth open. "You're not a vampire are you?"
And if at any point G'raha seemed apprehensive: "Don't worry. I'm a doctor." Vanitas smiled, broad and charismatic with a little darkness peeking through at the corners.
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"I... believe my scent is a recent development," he managed to say past just how much his body screamed at him to fling off his mesh clothing and demand to be taken. Was this what being in heat was like? The small remaining logical part of his brain was glad that he hadn't had to deal with this regularly. His brows raised but he allowed his mouth to be pried open- while his teeth were a touch sharper than those of a Hyur, they weren't the visibly pointed canines that Keepers of the Moon sported.
"A doctor?" he echoed, once it was safe to speak without risk of nipping the man's skin. There was something chilling about that smile, one that called to mind the antagonists of his life's journey thus far, but this was a whole new place to him, and it was wrong to judge a book by its cover.
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"You are just delightful." He smiled, gently stroking G'raha's ear again before withdrawing his hand. Vanitas had very good self-restraint in spite of the ways he'd like to see if he could make other parts of G'raha twitch that way. "Yes. A vampire doctor."
But without the grimoire he was powerless to continue his work here. Hence the brief little detour to finding a way to win the game and escape this place. It shouldn't be too difficult. Without realizing it, he began to pace around G'raha slowly, looking him over. He noticed his tail at last, and then way his fingers curled at the tips. Undeniably feline, he noted mentally, humming as he stopped circling to stand directly in front of him instead. "But I admit, that I'm very curious about you. Not human, nor vampire. Something else entirely. How fascinating. I'd like to see more."
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cw: romanticizing death
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ɪɪɪ. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ: ♥ doubles' thermo
But then... one of the overly enthusiastic employees, practically vibrating with excitement, mentions that the grand prize for this "DOUBLES' THERMO" game is the Best Liquor On The Whole Resort, a brew apparently so exclusive it can't be found anywhere else. That catches his attention. Best liquor, huh? Worth considering, maybe. He stands there, arms crossed, still weighing the pros and cons when the employee, growing impatient, claps a hand on his shoulder. "Just hop in and see what it's like before committing to play!" the employee says with a too-bright smile, already steering him towards one of the egg-shaped pods. Before Zoro can fully process the words, he finds himself being gently but firmly guided inside.
The next thing he knows, he's submerged in some sort of clear fluid (eugh!), and then darkness. When his eyes open again, sand crunches under his bare feet. Where the fuck are his shoes? He looks down to see himself in the familiar white shirt, black pants, and green haramaki he wore the day he first met his captain, Luffy. A strange wave of... something... washes over him. Nostalgia? Whatever it is, it brings a brief pang to his chest. He shakes his head. No time for sentiment. Nevermind the fact that he's already spent a significant part of the last two weeks inspecting every statue in the resort ever since Luffy disappeared.
His watch pings, but Zoro is so used to ignoring it half the time that he doesn't even glance at the message. Instead, he stands there on the beach, squinting against the blinding glare of the sun. Thermo Island feels unsettlingly real. Just as he's about to pick a direction (likely the wrong one) and start walking, a figure sits up in the sand a short distance away. The person is cloaked in a long, intricately detailed robe, the hood pulled up to obscure their features. It gives them a regal look, though the robe is completely impractical for the location. Zoro would normally judge them, but he realizes the stranger must have had just as much control over their outfit as he does.
Zoro watches the figure reach up and slowly lower the hood. A head of red hair is revealed, and then Zoro notices the...pointy headgear? Well that's odd. Kind of looks like a cat's ears. Maybe it's a headband. He really can't quite place what they are from this distance, but he swears he just saw them twitch.
The swordsman realizes this other person hasn't yet noticed him, so he simply keeps watching as they glance around, a look of confusion on their face. Zoro observes them quietly for a while, noting the way their brow furrows slightly, a touch of fluster in their movements.
Zoro scans the beach. There's no one else around. Huh. Maybe this liquor prize is going to be more trouble than it's worth if he has to deal with lost-looking strangers in fancy dress. Still, there's something about the intense red of their eyes that catches his attention, even from afar. He sighs internally. Might as well see what this is all about.
"Hey." His voice is a little gruff, but it's not on purpose. That's just the default. "Are you trying out this game, too?" He still thinks he's just in a demo. Bless his heart.
hey hi spoilers for ffxiv through at least shadowbringers 5.3 past this point! ♥
And then, light. Nearly as blinding and all-encompassing as it had been on the First, or at least it feels that way when he first opens his eyes. He's already getting a bit tired of waking up in new places, but now it also comes with a distinct sense of... of wrongness. Once the light is less blinding, he can see that his hair is colorless at the tips, and that much of his periphery is blocked by a familiar, heavy hood.
He sits up with a start, takes a breath of the fresh seaside air, and reaches up to gently lower the hood. Mostly so his ears can spring free, and they twitch in the direction of... something or someone else. He knows, without looking down, that his body is as it was during most of his time as the Crystal Exarch. He does look down, turning his hands over to mentally drive home the fact that his right arm is, indeed, crystalized. He senses no connection to the Crystal Tower here, but he's still able to move it without forcing aether into it... how very odd. He glances over his immediate surroundings, somewhat relieved to find that he's without the staff that served him as a focus during those difficult times-- while it means he won't have access to any of those magical capabilities, it also means that his power is instead his own.
The sound of a voice makes him flinch, ears drawn back slightly, but the words are a welcome distraction, indeed.
"...game? What game?" Carefully, he gets to his feet, and rather than brushing the sand off of his lavish layers, he instead begins to undo them, beginning with the gilded belt that holds on the red sleeve and overskirt. He's already hot, and even if this body feels like his one on the Source and not the one that had staved off aging through powerful magical means, he's not keen on getting heat stroke. "I wanted to learn about the technology within those... pods."
He turns, then, and looks toward the taller figure, the green hair noted but not out of the ordinary, as far as he's concerned. The man looks... strong. Capable. A good sort to have on his side during the course of whatever strange journey the Twelve have sent him on this time.
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Now that Zoro is closer, he can get a better look at the other man. At least he thinks he's a man, because he quickly realizes the headband he's wearing is actually not a headband, but the man's ears. Cat ears. A cat man?
"You're a cat," he states matter-of-factly, nodding his head like he's used to so many fresh revelations now. He still gets surprised, but the impact and duration are much shorter. "A cat man," he amends a moment later, like he worries his initial observation might be offensive.
The ears aren't the only interesting thing about him. Zoro watches silently as G'raha sheds some of his layers, noting that what he'd thought was a blue glove before is actually a blue arm. "Cool arm," he says. "What's it do?"
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He gives pause for just a moment-- he'd never disrobed in front of anyone during his time on the First. He'd been a wise, kind, well-respected leader, nearly faceless; it would have endangered his mission to let anyone grow close enough to want to disrobe him. But then he's called a cat, and his ears droop.
"Miqo'te," he corrects gently, glancing just briefly toward the man before he undoes the fastenings that keep the robe on. He shrugs out of the dark, heavy fabric to be left in comfortable capri pants which, thankfully, have pockets-- the neck piece is tucked into one, and he steps out of the pool of fabric to start folding and rolling it up, making it as small as possible. This also makes it plain that most of his torso is seemingly made up of the same crystal, lancing across his chest, most of his neck save for his throat, and down his hip on the same side as his arm.
"I... have not looked this way in some time," he starts, brows furrowing. He can deal with the ugly swell of emotions later, how ugly he feels like this, when he has time alone. "It was a price I paid to stave off the passage of time, to be able to save someone that..." He trails off, firmly closing his eyes. The Warrior of Light had set off for Tuliyollal not half a sun before he'd gone to bed and woken up here. He shakes his head slightly, visage set with determination. "Someone dear to me."
He finishes folding the black fabric, and wraps and tucks the red layer around it, then twists and folds the white layer into straps to keep the bundle tucked against his back. Parts of it could come in handy, thus he wouldn't be leaving it behind, even with the mostly negative memories associated with the garment.
"Ah, but where are my manners. G'raha Tia, at your service," he says with a small bow. "Have you any idea of what we're supposed to be doing in here?"
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And yet... nothing else about G'raha's actions seem to indicate that, so maybe he's just trying to beat the sun.
He doesn't know much about cats, but he does know that the way G'raha's ears droop makes him feel like a criminal. A bad one, like the kind he used to hunt, not the kind he calls crewmates. He feels like he should apologize. Instead, Zoro clears his throat. "Miqo'te," he repeats, trying to copy the exact pronunciation as his penance. Maybe it sounds a little funny on his tongue, not only because the word is foreign to him, but also because G'raha's accent is different from his. Still, he manages a surprisingly decent approximation.
The Miqo'te seems lost in his own thoughts, but he says them out loud, so Zoro listens. Questions form in his head, the primary of which being: what exactly does G'raha mean by stave off the passage of time? That sounds impossible! It's his first indication that there might be much more to G'raha than meets the eyes. Nevermind the fact that half of his flesh is blue, and looks more like some kind of magical stone than actual flesh.
But the other man interrupts himself before Zoro can interject, and he looks a little surprised when he finds himself being presented with a small bow. He returns it instinctually, the gesture familiar from his own home. "Roronoa Zoro," he says. "I have no idea."
Except—he isn't brand new to this place anymore, and he has learned a thing or two. How many times have resort staff and other guests alike redirected him to his watch before? (How much money do I have? Check your watch. How do I get to this place? Use your watch. How do I talk to Nami when she's not nearby? Your watch, dumbass.)
"We should check our watches," he says dryly, finally looking down at it. He frowns as he lifts his wrist, squinting as he starts reading the message, then remembering quickly what one of his new friends has recently shown him (thank you, Weiss). With a few swipes, the words are projected into the air above his watch screen, and he reads it out loud for the both of them, sounding increasingly annoyed with every word.
Zoro is frowning by the end. "What the fuck is a significant emotional connection?" No really, what is it? This man has been a lone wolf for most of his life, and it's only recently that he's begun to come to terms with how attached he's become to his own crewmates. Now he's expected to do that all over again with a stranger? For a game? "Fuck this place," he grumbles under his breath. That bottle of alcohol better be worth it.
"We need water," are his next words, because he could be grumpy, or he could be grumpy and productive. "Weather seems nice. So water, food, then shelter." He meets G'raha's eyes, as if to ask if he's in agreement. They're meant to be partners, after all, though time will tell if Zoro can truly rely on him. He tries not to jump to conclusions, but G'raha's fancy clothes makes him wonder if the other man knows anything about surviving in the wild.
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I
The water is then similarly accepted, though G’raha’s comment earns him a look tinged with a disparaging air. A firm hand takes the bottle, and an equally firm voice follows.
“While reading is an admirable hobby, it shouldn’t come at the expense of your physical ability.” The bottle is pointed back at G’raha, its cap serving to punctuate Ratio’s words. “Are you truly content to let yourself stagnate as you run errands for the demanding fools this place passes for athletes?”
Re: I
Then, they narrow in determination.
"I do not feel as though I am stagnating... though I am not familiar with the term athlete, this kind of running around is something I am used to." It isn't the same as delving into a dungeon, or rushing across a battlefield to slam a shield between a monster and a friend; it's far more akin to gathering tomes and scrolls from the Noumenon for the professors he'd studied under prior to obtaining his Archon marks. "I did not mean to cause offense."
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"Offense isn't the issue," and that much is true. Whatever dissatisfaction he has with the system is not G'raha's problem—he's merely the unfortunate recipient of a portion of that annoyance. Whether the man impressing that upon him is cognizant of such a fact remains ambiguous. For the time being... Ratio turns to G'raha with a renewed sort of purpose, one motivated by something beyond the the conceits the house presents upon them.
"If you're 'used to' such a thing, then let's begin. Three laps." Something in his voice implies there's no room for argument. Indeed, whether he's accompanied or not, he'll start the assignment barely a breath after its given.
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Because on this day, he rocks back onto his heels at the sudden command to run three laps, looking gob-smacked after Ratio. He wars with himself for a moment-- he's a gopher, supposed to help instead of train, but if someone who is training tells him to get to it, then--
He shakes off any uncertainty, shifts the weight of the insulated bag, and takes off at a jog after Ratio. He's usually better with short bursts of speed, and he has nowhere near the strength capabilities of most of his comrades save the twins, but damned if he's going to be fully left in the dust!
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The jog itself is less important. What does matter is afterwards, as they naturally come to a close where they began. The water bottle, once kindly offered, is retrieved once more. This time, it's held out to G'raha for consideration. Gophers receive little benefit, and as far as sharing drinks goes—
This place demands significantly worse from them.
"I don't care for the stratification they're attempting to force upon us." Perhaps a mild statement, given the lead-in to their entire excursion. "No one deserves to be denied the opportunity to better themselves, nor is any one person entitled to being waited on."
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II
The whirl and the defensive hands have him backing up as well, not wanting to startle him, and he'll hold up his own similarly. ]
John. [ It's his name, and pretty much the only solid identifier he has. Is he a Great Old One? Is he a god? He doesn't fucking know. But he does know that he's John. It's helpful that way. ] Just... figuring out how the fuck this all works right now. I didn't mean to startle you.
[ Even if you smell so good. Fuck. ]
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Twelve, but this John fellow is tall. He hasn't felt so short since being around Roegadyn and male Au Ra.
He manages a smile despite how flushed his face has become, despite the liquid heat now thrumming through his veins. ] Perhaps we can figure it out together. G'raha Tia, at your service.
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It's good to meet you, G'raha Tia. You smell... very good.
[ The last words hold a low, hungry growl and he reaches over to offer his hand. That's what you do to introduce yourself, right? It's not just to touch him. ]
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He takes the proffered hand, knees nearly giving out just to have skin to skin contact with this alpha. ]
As... as do you... [ He's a touch too dazed to remember any more pleasantries, pardon him. ]
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I'd like to kiss you. Taste you. May I?
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i!! i love one cat boy!!! hello!
Even so, Jun has weathered worse conditions here, and clothes are just clothes—even if your midriff happens to be on full display.
"Hey, thanks!" With all smiles back, Jun takes the water bottle from G'raha's outstretched hand, downing it almost in one go. "Guess you're one of 'em today, huh~? Y'know, the "Gophers"! Guess I'd say unless you're just helpin' outta the kindness of ya heart."
Jun's brows arched as he turned to scrutinise G'raha's words, almost curious why he's going along with these inane demands from the House. "Or maybe stayin' up late being a "bookworm" makes ya sleep in and miss the first roll call!"
He's just playfully teasing, not realising that waking up before 6am every single morning is hardly a normal or comfortable routine for most people.
! henlo! :3
"I am not much of an- I believe the word is athletic- sort," he said with a bit of a laugh, and he shifted his hod on the insulated bag that was piled high with bottles of water. The bottles weren't glass, as he'd been expecting, but something much lighter and durable. "I suppose I stay in shape thanks to my travels, thus I would have chosen to be a gopher regardless."
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"Right, that sorta makes sense the more I learn," he nodded again, sneaking a quick glance towards the bag. "But looks like you're not doin' too bad carrying that 'round." The fact he can without a complaint only adds to that. "Huh~? You've gotta be the first who'd admit that sorta thing willingly. Not like I'd complain either, but no one wants to be one of 'em. But whatever! You'd travel 'round a lot, then?"
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At the question about travel, his ears perked up before both they and his tail wiggled in what could only be described as a happy manner. "Yes, especially alongside my heroes," he said, eyes gone slightly out of focused and altogether starry.
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