TDM 011

[goldmods]

【 Thank you for choosing the Golden Peacock, 5-star resort and casino. You are currently registered as a WILDCARD in our system.

We are thrilled to announce that the Golden Peacock will be embracing autumn with a special outing. Current and new guests are invited to join us for a refreshing outdoor experience where participants can unplug, unwind, and connect with nature. During this time, all Watches will be disabled to the most basic functions (texting, calls, checking chip account) in order to encourage guests to disconnect.

Please look forward to two weeks of finding yourself amongst the trees. We hope you enjoy your stay, and have a fan-CAMP-stic time. 】

CAMPING

GETTING OFF THE GRID

As the resort moves into what it claims is autumn, the days grow shorter. The projected sun in the Vale sets in the afternoon, after which a faint chill falls. Then there’s the most excessive transformation of all – a portion of the Vale has transformed into a campground complete with a scenic lake, seemingly overnight. Statues nearby have been dressed up with flannel jackets and suspenders. Folksy banjo fills the air without any discernible source.

A section of the campgrounds have been reserved for tents. These tents vary in size, shape, and supplies. All tents, regardless of quality, are supplied with sex toys and lube. Staff and long-standing guests all agree — pretending to live in the wilderness and 'rough it' for a while is thrilling. This is what the peasants feel like all the time!

NOT ALL TENTS ARE EQUAL

► High-rank guests are allocated spacious and luxurious tents. These elaborate mini-homes come with TVs, beds, heaters, and plenty of supplies. Provided camping gear is high quality, ranging from state of the art flashlights to designer backpacks. It can't quite be considered roughing it in these tents, but glamping is camping too!

► Mid-rank guests are allocated moderate tents that comfortably fit up to three guests. These tents come with cots or sleeping bags, as well as standard camping gear to make their time living off the land fairly comfortable. While these tents lack the bells and whistles of the high-rank accommodations, they are more than enough for a comfortable but realistic camping experience.

► Low-rank guests are allocated the shabbiest tents. These sagging accommodations can shield one guest comfortably, but that doesn't stop staff from pairing low-ranking guests together in order to save space. Their 'sleeping bags' are a single blanket and hay bale pillow. There are no other included amenities aside from sex toys and a single lantern.

► Last but certainly not least: our Wildcards! All Wildcards have been randomly assigned. Whether they end up in a glamping tent or sleeping beneath a propped up sheet is left to chance. Wildcards also may find themselves waking up beside a current guest or another new arrival.

► Guests that "go camping" will discover that the door connecting the Vale to the rest of the resort has mysteriously vanished. Uh oh! Looks like there's no going back to the comfortable life anytime soon. Don't worry, the door will return when it's time to pack up and head home.

LET'S GET CRAFTY

► New characters still wake up naked save for a robe, as is standard for the Golden Peacock. This round’s robes are flannel gingham to embrace camping and autumn aesthetic. Some of these robes are much shorter than others; watch out that the lake breeze doesn’t reveal more than you wanted.

► Unlike the standard, there are no racks of clothes waiting for new arrivals outside of their tents. You're roughing it out in the woods, remember? Instead of clothing, Wildcards will find an assortment of raw materials to make clothes.

Fabric rolls, hemp, buckets of leaves, leather, and other assorted goods are waiting to be cobbled into something new. The staff have been kind enough to leave some small hunting knives and wooden needles to make crafting a bit easier. Of course, they won't stop anyone that wants to embrace the wild side and strut around naked.

HOME ON THE RANGE

Welcome to the Peacock Campgrounds! Nicknamed the Stomping Grounds by long-standing guests. Rustic and right off a sparkling lake, guests will find everything they need to live in the wilderness. Staff have expertly set up fire pits, benches, hammocks, and a wooden shed to act as a tool depository. There's even an outhouse, which is a real novelty to many of the long-standing guests. Do they just... squat over that hole and do their business? How wild!

Unlike previous resort-sponsored excursions, guests are expected to manage without the help of staff. That pile of wood won't be replenished once used; guests will have to go chop down trees and split their own. Food won't magically appear in their tents regardless of rank. Camping is all about living off the land. Though staff make themselves scarce to make the experience feel real, they lurk in the shadows, discreetly providing necessary tools and fixing broken equipment so guests won't struggle too much. It isn't fun if it's real hardship, after all!

DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO COOK?

► On the first camp morning, guests will find barrels of ingredients and cooking utensils left beside the central fire pit. These barrels are stocked with fruits and vegetables that won't spoil quickly, many of which are seasonal to autumn. They have also been left a few protein options like eggs, jerky, and canned ham. These ingredients are communal and limited. Once they run out, guests will have to hunt and gather in the Vale to collect more.

► Guests must prepare their own meals while camping. Not even the high-ranks are given any special treatment on this! While oil and firestarter are included in the initial supply, these too are limited and won't be replenished after use.

► Staff would never let their precious guests go without a sweet treat. A generous supply of hot cocoa and all the fixings for s'mores has been left behind as well. While none of the other food will be replenished, the hot cocoa and s'mores goodies seemingly never run out. A night around a campfire without roasting marshmallows or sipping cocoa would be too cruel to subject guests to.

SUPPLIES RUNNING LOW

► Guests will have to hunt and gather once ingredients dwindle if they want to eat. The wooden shed is home to a selection of tools that can be used to hunt: bows and arrows, hatchets, axes, fishing poles and line, etc. All tools are rudimentary and can break if not taken care of.

► The Vale is lush with wild fruits and vegetables. However, much like in reality, not all vegetation in the Vale is safe to eat. While some berries and mushrooms are consumable, others are toxic or psychedelics. One must also not forget that they're in the Golden Peacock: some unusual plants that grow in the vale may trigger arousal. Watch out that you don't eat something funky by accident!

► Before 'leaving', staff will explain that guests can fish or hunt small game running throughout the Vale. One particularly enthusiastic staff member will suggest guests track down the snoggleboffs, as they're extremely delicious after roasting on an open fire.

ACTIVITIES

TWO WEEKS OF ROUGHING IT

Camping can't be all about survival. Where's the fun in that? Before 'leaving', the staff arrange activities and events for guests to enjoy. A wooden bulletin board outlines times for group hikes, camping experiences, and wilderness delights. Adirondack chairs line the edge of the lake and a few tire swings hang over the water, tied to strong tree branches. For the first week and a half the weather is pleasant and sunny. Perfect for camping.

At night, acoustic guitars and other wooden instruments come out so that guests can make music around the bonfire. Projected stars dapple the night sky, forming various constellations sourced from guest worlds. The moon enters a different phase each night, shining a gentle silver across the campgrounds. Why not pull your sweetheart in and cuddle beneath the night sky? It's so romantic.

IN CAMP

► Guests that don't want a cold shower should make their way over to the shower stalls quickly. These outdoor showers hold very little hot water and run cold after about five minutes. First-come first-serve!

► A wood-chopping competition begins around lunchtime. There are two goals: to split as much wood as possible and looking sexy while doing it. Guests that chop wood unsexily immediately fail! Alternatively, sexiness with a pathetic number of chunks is more acceptable, but still a loss. Those that achieve both goals will instantly win a large payout. Failing to sexily cut wood won’t have any penalties associated with it, and you can always try again tomorrow!

► Bear hunting is a popular activity that even the spoiled long-standing guests are getting in on! No, not hunting real bears. That would be insane. Peacock's version of bear hunting involves hunting down bear-like guests and capturing them! Any guest that fits the criteria of big, thick, and strong may potentially be assigned the role of bear. Hunters who manage to tie up, handcuff, net, or otherwise 'capture' a 'bear' will instantly receive a large payout.

THE LAKE

► This sparkling lake is rich with fish. Enjoy sitting back on the long pier with a fishing rod or take one of the wooden boats out for a row around the lake. It's also safe to swim in, for guests that would like to take a dip and rinse off the sweat of camp living! Don't mind the random swim trunks or drink umbrellas that pop up now and then. This water is definitely fresh and not recycled from the summer beach extravaganza.

► Guests that do decide to take a dip may encounter a familiar friend. Fernando the tentacle monster is camping too! This randy tentacle monster is as horny as ever, eager to embrace guests and stick slippery tentacles into any reachable orifice.

► Once the sun goes down, many of the long-standing guests strip off their shoddily crafted clothes and sprint into the water for skinny dipping by moonlight! What's a camping excursion without a lake-side orgy? The best way to drown out those erotic moans from the lake is to head to the central fire pit and join in on some campfire songs.

OUTSIDE CAMP

► Those that head out of camp for a hike or hunt can enjoy any of the Vale's usual wonders. With autumn, shiny apples dangle from the trees and pumpkins pepper beneath their protruding roots. Along with autumnal fruits and vegetables, canned beef and ham have been mysteriously left in pockets close to the campgrounds. A little act of kindness from the staff; not everyone is cut out to hunt their own game!

► For those interested in hunting down some fresh game, walking around the forest in the morning may come with a stroke of luck. Strange little creatures the size of an adult's fist are active during this time. These hairy beasts come in brown and white, and screech, "Scrun scrun screeee!" when agitated.

Yes, these are the alleged snoggleboffs! Don't feel bad about hunting them, they're an invasive species that are unfriendly and eager to steal from unsuspecting guests. Their main strength is their speed, but once caught, they don't put up much of a fight.

► Guests that explore deep into the Vale may find a dark cave mouth that leads downward into a damp chamber. The ceiling glitters with stalactites and, along the wall, they'll find a horizontal crease with what seems to be... hair? If touched, this crease will creak open, revealing a large eye that darts back and forth before focusing on whoever woke it. Black pupils and iris bleed into one endless abyss.

Those that gaze directly into the eye will freeze. Their mind will remain active while their body locks in place, not unlike sleep paralysis. This trance will break once the eye blinks, which it will do after some time... but it can also be forced into blinking by force if there's someone who hasn't made eye-contact around to help. Frozen guests will be overwhelmed with the fear of abandonment for the duration of their paralysis. This fear will fade after the connection is broken, as if it wasn't their fear at all.

Like a regular eye, dirt or debris can force a blink. If this route is taken, the eye will go bloodshot and shut, refusing to open again. Any guest that inflicts damage to the eye may find that their suite, upon return, has been trashed. As if someone or something threw a big tantrum in there while they were gone. Wonder why that happened...?

HOWLING

CALL OF THE WILD

Temperatures drop drastically at night as the camping excursion nears its end. Nights become so chilly that morning dew frosts over, crunching beneath guest feet. Every day the light and its warmth set a little bit earlier. Staff remain elusive and do not provide warmer blankets or clothes for guests, leaving them to cuddle for warmth or find other ways to sleep comfortably during nightly cold snaps.

The moon hits its apex on the final night of camping. Unlike the other nights, this full moon shines blood red. The Vale stills under this ominous sign, silent. Snowflakes begins to fall, spreading an endless clean sheet across the campgrounds. That reflected pink hue is inescapable.

THE WEATHER TURNS

► Along with chilly nights, the last few days of camping feature inclement weather conditions. Clouds overtake the sun and rain falls, alternating between light mist and heavy downpour.

► Winds pick up, with speeds threatening to whip away the less stable tents. Guests that don't hunker down and add additional support to their tents may end up chasing them into the storm. Other loose items around the campgrounds may end up blown away as well.

BLOOD MOON

► Wild instinct rises with the blood moon. As crimson moonlight beckons, some guests may begin to feel ... strange. As if they need to claw their true selves free. Those that answer the call to bathe in the light of the blood moon will undergo a transformation.

► Basking in the light of the blood moon triggers a were-transformation. While the standard were that the blood moon inspires is the classic werewolf, guests may transform into any kind of were. Along with hybrid transformation, the blood moon stirs mating and sex impulses in these new weres. Remaining humans are at risk of being eaten... in the sexy way.

► Transformation into a were is not mandatory. Other guests may step into the blood moon's light and not experience any kind of transformation or impulse. These guests are now actors in a sexy horror scene, given the task of surviving the night surrounded by monsters! At least they're sexy monsters? Giving in and fucking on the wild side may be more fun.

PACKING UP

► After the crazy weather and horny werewolves, the staff judge that it's high time to wrap this excursion up. Guests will once again openly see these diligent workers the morning after the blood moon. They come flooding into the site with clothing, snacks, and other comforts while praising everyone for surviving for so long without the resort's usual luxuries.

► A first aid tent and cleaning station are swiftly erected. All guests that volunteer to treat injuries sustained over the course of the camping experience or help clean up the site will be compensated with a large payout.

► Every guest that participated in the camping event, regardless of whether they help wrap things up, will be issued a spa voucher. Go relax, you've earned some pampering after all of that hard living!

OOC NOTES

INVITES | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

▶ BLANKET CW: altered states; eyes (descriptions only, incl. eye injury); exhibitionism; hunting (incl. hunting fantasy creatures); orgies; public sex; survival; temperature play; tentacles; transformation; violence

▶ 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 September event. Camping will ICly begin September 15th and end October 3rd.

▶ 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.

▶ 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.

NAVIGATION • LOG • NETWORK • OOC • MEME

Comments

Sunday | Honkai: Star Rail | New Character, New Player

[dayseraphim]

i. awaking up with you (arrival?)

This was a conundrum. First was waking up to being in a bathrobe, divested of everything else. Not even an iron! Could you believe this? The creases on this cotton robe aren't even equal. The thread count of it is bordering on abysmal.

He did wake up in a green tent of basic squalor. There were some amenities, but then again, what was he supposed to expect? This place was practically destitute.

He can't remember the last time he's exposed his ankles outside of the shower. Or showed the least bit of skin. He's tried to find a scarf or a set of long pants, but he isn't particularly skilled at sewing. It's like a peeled grape is being exposed to the elements with nothing but its shoddy insides spilled out, juice for company.

The trials are utterly insurmountable. As with the warm body beside him. He can't even explain the mortification of it, even if he tries to move out of the way, slowly, carefully - but forgets to turn off the light source - his damn halo, out of the way.

ii. home on the range

That is to say, creature comforts in Penacony have been, at least, available. He's proven to be exceptionally poor at it, if the items around him are of any note. A tent has been painstaking set up, even if it does appear a little shabby. It had taken so much effort to try to prop the heavy poles up. He isn't prone to such... Outdoorsman behavior.

Hunting has been given to him as a choice, too, but he can't say that inflicting harm on the local wildlife... Or these, snoggleboffs has been a pleasant thought. At least, he's managed to scrounge up a surprising amount of vegetal forageables. He hasn't been on this planet, not that he knows of - but the books he has been reading to identify foreign things shouldn't have been wrong.

The little golden sprites around him gather - resembling illuminated paper sprites with little halos, four in total, one slim hand on their mouthless faces to watch the alchemy being attempted in the pot.

It smells fine. It's thick. It's somehow purple. Did he even add anything purple, in there?

A fat bubble glorps in a viscous heap.

Oh. That doesn't look good. The one s'more that was placed over the flame follows suit into the pot, burnt to a crisp.

Well. At least there's that singular can of canned ham.

iii. wastepaper ( in camp )

He's picking up litter.

Of course, even in his short time, he'd been able to pass by some sounds, some others less innocent. That was their own business, as far as he was concerned. No, what comes from the debauchery is what irks him.

There's a plastic consumable of something, with fluids he can barely describe within. Ugh, it bears no better thought. The better question was: did it had to be so long? Who even had one this large, or long for that matter?

He shudders to think about it, so he doesn't - continuing on his fruitless task of cleaning up the area, too neurotically disgusted by the state of the living quarters to tolerate the 'squalor'.

Oh, Ena. He will need another cold shower, and another six pairs of gloves, and a scrub to get all of this grime off him - physical, but mostly mental. Completely mental.

iv. call of the wild

He'd walked into the scarlet moonlight, against his better thoughts of self preservation. Deeper into the forest, trying to seek out the sound. Something about this forest was deeply unusual. He can't put his finger on it, but there is no hiding the reeking suspicion of something else in here. And loathe as he is to admit it, he is not coming closer to discovering what it is.

The transformation comes quickly, with his bottom half resembling more of a gryphon - bright white feathers tinged with lavender at the edges, gold trim on its claws with a golden halo. Three sets of wings, each bearing purple-blue tinged eyes. He'd heard of avatars of Yaoshi being marastuck and losing their forms, growing ginkgo vines and losing their mental faculties.

No, this feels entirely different. For one, he's mortifyingly half naked, and didn't go through a veritable centuries-long torture transformation for it. But the sensation is real, this voracious urge to sate, despite his better nature, corroding away at the seams, despite himself-

The eagle-shriek that comes out of his throat is foreign, much like his beautiful, but undoubtedly eldritch form, flight ascendant, as it begins to pursue you.

---

{ ooc // first time on dreamwidth... i think this is right? please let me know if i've made any mistakes, thank you! here's his neurotic ass lol }

IV. Thanks for letting me be a freak in front of you.

[armwriostle]

[It was foolish to stay out here. He should have known better than to leave his tent during the night. The weather itself lent to that but he had done it anyways. Sometimes one just gets complacent.

It’s the shriek of a beast that immediately has him sprinting. He’s not an idiot who sticks around to find out what it is. He has been here enough to know better. After all, something like this happened similarly last year.

His breath comes out in white puffs as he runs as fast as his legs can go. He doubts he can outrun a beast, but he’s stubborn enough to try.] A guy can’t take a leisurely walk in the middle of the night apparently.

IV????? YOU'RE ACTUALLY CRAZY FOR THIS

[dayseraphim]

[ They don't see him more than hear someone in the underbrush. Even with the forest's expanse, the rustle of footfalls come loud, slow, and then-

They are running. Faster. But not fast enough.

Another shriek accompanies the tide of the trees, the leaves that shudder in his wake. It takes all of two wingbeats to ascend into the sky, and just one -

To crash forwards into his stalking prey, casting them straight into the dirt, trapping them inbetween one of his claws. It digs into the soft meat of a waist, pinning him, before Sunday realizes that he recognizes this person.

The stranger from the tent. Wriothesley.

The light from its halo'd vision only casts its light upon his person as the beast dips closer, to see him, better. ]

Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't-

[ Of course, no words come out of his mouth - beak, rather. But he's losing the ability to think. The claw digs in deeper, drawing blood, but more importantly, starting to tear through fabric. ]

I ain’t a coward.

[armwriostle]

[Wind knocked out of him, Wriothesley hits the ground with a grunt and a sharp intake of breath. He didn’t know what to expect and trying to see what had caught him is difficult.

Well, as foreboding as the situation was, the monster was quite beautiful. Breathtaking.


The sharp sting sinking into his skin pulls him out of his thoughts. The smell of copper fills his senses and he winced a little. He doesn’t struggle though. There’s no point. Still, he doesn’t think he’s in danger. Not exactly. Given what this place was like… he’s not food in the literal sense. That doesn’t mean he isn’t uhhh a little apprehensive.] Hey big guy… how ‘bout we chat first? [Because he totally knows what Sunday is saying. He doesn’t.]

AGHHHHHHHH

[dayseraphim]

He's not used to this, any of this, as if his whims are being rewritten, replaced in front of his eyes. He would never assault a stranger like this, but that didn't matter. All that did was the low hum of pressure where he thinks his crotch is, somewhere in this massive body - and somewhere to put it.

He wants to chat? He wishes he could. The gryphon lowers its head, beak opening, though nothing comes out more than just birdsong when he tries to make out the words. Pretty, but functionally useless.

He can't speak, but a limited form of telepathy seems to persist - and Wriothesley feels an overwhelming sense of guilt as the gryphon begins to tear, more purposefully now, at his pants. The fabrics tear easily underneath claw, nicking him a little, but insistently pushing the man down all the same as he's exposed to the elements.

Oh, Aeons. What was he about to do? More importantly: why didn't he think it was wrong at all?

Heh

[armwriostle]

[ Pants hand sewn from scraps of fabric and thread really weren’t going to be a match for a beast of such power. Even proper clothes from his wardrobe wouldn’t have survived, but the material easily tears underneath Sunday’s claws.

Kind of hot, really.

The guilt has him pause though. It’s such a rare feeling to feel someone else’s emotions and knowing that they were mentally struggling with the situation has him go pliant. Instead, a hand reaches out to stroke one of those impressive claws pressing him down.] Hey. This happens to us all while we’re here. You’ll calm down once you’re sated, so don’t worry. I can take a bit of a beating. [ It’s probably better it was him than someone far more unsuspecting. Like that Sunday fellow. ]

III all the options are good I'm laugh-crying

[softstoneheart]

[ In any other place, Topaz would be on the more ethical side of the Shopping Cart Dilemma: if everyone shares a space, it just makes sense that everyone pitches in to keep it clean. Even as an IPC department Director now, her humble roots keep her from putting herself above others.

But the general grossness of the more hedonistic types here really push that. And on one hand, she has a scientific understanding that the fluids from her or her partners are no different from some mystery person's (usually, she hopes), but it would be nice if others were more considerate instead of leaving their mess for "the help" or some kind soul who is a bit of a neat-freak.

She approaches with a sigh ]

Here. Lemme help you with that.

hello topaz!! only after i wrote everything out i realized he's utterly pathetic outdoors...

[dayseraphim]

[ It seems someone else shares his disdain of their wretched surroundings. It could be worse. It could always be worse. But as far as he's concerned, anything can always be better, and the first task of immediately shifting the needle is not needing to sleep surrounded by used goods. ]

"Much appreciated, Miss..."

[ And only from a memory that's neurotic enough to remember fifty-two people's traits, who knew how many more, amalgamated into a messy whole: a name persists.

He's only seen her in the reception of what feels like a distant, other life - surrounded by yet two other troublemakers. One wonders if the gambler and the professor were also present, somewhere. But it doesn't matter now, does it? He's left that life, started another, but old habits ever persist. ]

"A mystery planet, and the IPC wants a survey on it, regardless? Should I be surprised, Stoneheart?"

[softstoneheart]

[ she's used to being distrusted, and she gets where it's coming from, so she can't blame him for his thinly veiled accusation. The IPC has a reputation, after all, especially on Penacony, with all its Boss Stone anti-propaganda.

While she's understanding, her impatience bubbles up. For more than a year, she's enjoyed some level of personhood beyond just an IPC employee. The reality feels a little like a slap in the face. She dismisses his words with a light snort and a roll of her eyes, but the irreverence stops there. ]

This isn't an IPC expedition. Whether you believe me or not, I'm stuck here just like everyone else.

I have been for over a year.

[dayseraphim]

"And it would be a living miracle to be free from the clutches of Qlipoth in any stretch of the mind."

[ But, he can't hide the surprise in his voice. ]

"A year?"

[ Much as he's held the organization that she hails from in a habitual disdain, he's no longer part of that game now. But regardless of his views, you would be hard pressed to meet such few individuals with such material and sway. The fact she hasn't escaped, or found a reason to leave strikes him strange. ]

"You mean you've been..." [ The silence fills itself. He's a new arrival - the idea of seeing all of these... effects on the floor, and the way he's awoken to strangers, hasn't been a comfortable one. ] "For what, exactly?"

[ Unless, she actually wants to be here?

His imagination simply doesn't stretch that far. ]

[softstoneheart]

Like I said, I didn't choose this. Most people here didn't. It exists outside of time and space, and sometimes even multiple versions of the same person have cycled through without any memory of the one before them.

Research into what makes this place work and how to leave aside from playing their game and winning haven't really resulted in anything. I'd go into detail, but maybe we should get you washed up first.

iv.

[greatestworks]

That feathered beast, its many wings adorned with a multitude of eyes, seems to Phainon an artist's interpretation of Aquila, informed only by the tales of the great Titan of the Sky. He isn't even his prey, the other running in terror, their legs tangling in their robe, until he hurls himself into the other's shoulder and is caught up by the eldritch creature instead.

Speaking of mortifyingly half-naked, let's double the number of men in a considerable state of undress; Phainon has only a scandalously short-hemmed flannel robe on, and the upper half has been folded over to help preserve propriety, securely knotted at one hip. strapped to his calves and feet are a pair of sandals woven out of plant fiber stripped from vines in the Vale, and protecting his wrists is a curving piece of thick bark strapped to his arm by more of the same.

His feet kick the air as the cold night air lashes at them, feathers flying. Phainon has no weapon, but his few encounters with the transformed have taught him that some can still be reasoned with.

"You have to stop!" Phainon shouts above the howling wind, not heeding the bite of claws that raise lines of liquid gold, nor the growing distance between them and the ground, "You're going to hurt someone!"

MORE HALF NAKED MEN made me chuckle, hello phainon!!

[dayseraphim]

His prey sights him faster than he does. Of course they do, with his great size, with his birdsong cries, hollow and echoing like whalesong.

Ethereal, maybe almost beautiful - but a clear kind of an abomination, all the same. It doesn’t matter if they run. His wings spread wide as he dives onto a running guest, only to be intercepted by another.

There’s a shriek of indignance in it, scratching at the seams as he lifts the other man into the air. They strike him as half familiar - seen in a memory bubble, in broken simulacrum - a person with his missing companion.

But that doesn’t natter. A pervasive sense of guilt seems to bleed out of him, trying to land - barely succeeding at it, unused to his entire body as he less lands, more skids on ground. Sunday tries to deposit Phainon onto the ground, even as he runs as gold as his claws do, struggling with the urge of it. There’s something to sate, some eerie ghost bleeding into his mind. He needs to sate himself. He needs to, and with a similarly bright, shimmering stare - he’s not sure how much more mercy he can afford.

gentle 3.4 spoilers if you squint

[greatestworks]

Phainon's heartbeat rolls like a war drum, adrenaline lighting the fire in his veins; he had sprinted to intercept as though lives depended on it, because at the time, he wasn't sure it didn't. Hurtling first into the air, the ethereal shriek of the indignant creature ringing his ears, and then plummeting to the earth again, Phainon remains undeterred, blue eyes fierce with determination, white hair lashed by the cold wind.

It doesn't matter what happens to him; like everything, he will endure. He can't say the same of the other afflicted person - that is, if they're still even a person - of what might happen should this cursed transformation abate, leaving them with untold regrets. There is still time to spare them such a fate.

Their landing tears a sandal from one foot, a rock scrapes a hot line down his bare back; Sunday's gold claws bite, and his accursed blood wells up around their sharp points. A grunt shouts through his gritted teeth, more effort than pain as he grapples with the feathered beast.

"I know you're scared!" a wild guess, he can't know what they're going through, he can't understand the grip that blood red moon has on the transformed, "That what has happened confounds you!" Sunday deposits him on the ground, but Phainon, not at all inclined to give up to save his own skin, throws a weighty arm around them, a grapple that intends to hang on until he can get through, "I can still-!"

Phainon jerks in a flinch as that pervasive guilt rippling from Sunday resonates with him, like a struck tuning fork; the suffocating weight of thirty million epochs tries to stuff itself into his throat, threatening to silence him.

His chest caves as he exhales, hard, "What-?" Was that..? Was that coming from-?

RUN PHAINONNN (he won’t OTL

[dayseraphim]

Scared?

No, it would take more than this to scare him, master of an impervious dream, once upon a lifetime. It is what happens upon others, not himself that matters - such is the price of one prepared to lose it all for an ideal. But the lack of control is what confuses him, startles him beyond measure.

He’s used to imposing his will on others, at regretful times, in another life time. He knows what it feels like - it is immense, for it to happen to him instead, to feel his thoughts eroding to something so basally uncouth.

Sunday tries to rear back, to extend the distance between them with what little he can afford. But the familiar stranger only surges forward despite his best efforts. He’s unused to the body he’s transformed into, wings dragging onto the ground in a heap as he tries to suppress the wild urge to grab him, tear him into the ground and-

… Have him?

What?

The intrusive thought is so bizarre to him that he barely settles still. Guilt bleeds out of him in waves, staring at the traces of blood on his claws - as gold and amethyst rimmed eyes stare back into sapphire snowflakes.

Leave. Please. Before- Desperation. Beseeching the stranger as he shrieks again, once more. Claws digging grooves into the forest floor, trembling from the effort. Almost drooling into it.

Oh, Aeons. He wants him so bad it hurts-

[greatestworks]

The way it looks at its claws... the guilt that rolls off its body like the tide... it regrets what it's done. That gives him hope; it means it can still be reasoned with. He only needs to keep it focused on him.

That a single man alone can wrestle with a creature of this size begs disbelief. Rivulets of gold run down from where claws had pierced him; sweat shines on his body, the fibers of muscle standing in sharp relief under the celestial glow; with a roar of effort that tears his throat, Phainon manages to throw the outsized bulk to the ground amidst a flurry of flying down.

He doesn't have Mydeimos's terrifying might - he has speed and endurance, but his arms have begun to shake in the wake of the massive effort he spent to upend the creature. It's better than trying to contend with its claws, or those powerful legs raking the earth.

Phainon's vision reflexively blurs, Sunday's guilty heart as powerfully resonant as the tolling of the temple bells of Janusopolis. With one leg and both arms wrapped around its neck, he throws himself to the ground, seeking to pin down the creature's head. He has no doubt now that this - this feeling, this familiar ache - belongs somehow to the consciousness that still struggles within the beast. Phainon doesn't know how; he doesn't need to understand it. Only to stop it.

"These wounds will heal - they don't matter!" he asserts, seizing its head to fix its gold and amethyst eyes with his own two-colored gaze. "This madness will pass. And I'm not letting go," Phainon shouts, his voice shaking with conviction, "-No matter how long it takes!"

So thrash, flail! Spend up that fury! If it were him, he'd hope someone could stop him before he added to his numerous, uncountable regrets.

iii. bless his HEART

[stellerly]

Stelle's...in truth, she wishes she was more ignorant than she was about The Happenings on this impromptu camping excursion. Unfortunately, the evidence is everywhere, and she'd be lying if she hadn't considered doing something similar to what Sunday's up to, except she'd toss everything in a one of the fires and we all know how that would turn out.

She just has too much respect for trash cans.

At the moment, however, she's picking her way through the campsite, boredom having settled in and not really being in the mood for the preferred ways to pass time, and that leaves her with the option to wander and little else. She's not expecting yet another familiar face. She's not expecting to see him holding a—where would you even fit that???

"Sunday??" greets a wide-eyed Stelle, mostly in surprise to see him, but also, well. Her filters never quite function properly.

hello Stelle!! also I’m assuming amphoreus stelle just lmk if you prefer smth else

[dayseraphim]

The squalor is absolutely unacceptable, but along with it comes the knowledge that there are other people here who are happily using the facilities as required. He wasn’t going to fault them for doing so, but Aeons, couldn’t they keep to the trash bins while they were at it?

He’s seen many occasions where the Golden Hour was fit to regale into such debauchery, if such was the dream asked of it. But once again, he’s reminded about how the Bloodhounds and Nightingales are around to keep it mostly out of public eye.

Just like this ponderous plastic of fluid. It takes no imagination to know it could not be rainbow Soulglad. That being said, the trash cans everywhere makes him think of a friend. He half expects her to pop out of one, though not really, considering the contents stacked high of—

”… Stelle?” Speak of the trash raccoon, and she appears, by utter paradox. His wings perk in surprise as he walks over to her, wanting to extend some kind of physicality - a hug, a handshake, except what he’s holding is.

Well. He keeps his hands to himself.

”Mr. Yang and I were trying so hard to look for you and Danheng.” There was so much interference, but she looks better for wear, if not better than his simple bathrobe. There’s been nothing else. She’s always been the capable sort, but he can’t help but worry. “Have you also just arrived…?”

hullo! and that's perfect, she's right at the beginning of 3.5, basically...

[stellerly]

While they hadn't had the opportunity to become close, it's been some time for Stelle since she's seen Sunday, and there's something about the passage of time, even apart, that creates a kind of familiarity. Softens the edges, the worries, the...baggage. She's genuinely happy to see him, even though that also means he's been dragged into whatever this is, too. And clearly he's. Coping well.

No, but he really seems to be coping well, and it turns her expression from surprise to a genuine smile, even if she's simply not going to think about whatever he's holding any longer.

“I know, I'm sorry,” she blurts out, even though she probably has nothing to apologize for. “We've...it's been a long time. But looks like you found me.” And Dan Heng, somewhere, she knows for fact. How they all ended up here...it's getting worrying. But her smile holds.

“I did just arrive. Woke up in a tent with this thing,” she holds up her hand, swivels it a little to show off The Watch, “and still trying to make sense of it all. And Dan Heng is here, too, but it's...complicated.” She'll explain as best as she can, if pressed, but 'complicated' about sums it up, as far as she's concerned.

“Do you...need help with...?” she gestures broadly around him and to the general mess.

[dayseraphim]

To be accurate, she found him instead. But he's not about to split hairs about it, simply relieved that there is a familiar face, amidst all of this. "That is relieving, that both of you have managed to leave Amphoreus. Somehow."

If only for a moment.

"... It sounds similar to my experience." He, too, offers a flash of a hand - the selfsame watch on his person. "Though, I woke up next to someone."

He'd been lucky, that the person was the amenable sort. That hadn't made it any less of a mortifying experience, if he was to be honest. He's simply not made for this kind of undress. Heck, he's barely shown any skin for the most part, and now they're expected to hunch it out in bathrobes.

Bare ankles. Oh, Aeons.

"... I think so long as there is an alternative place to rest, it is amenable enough." There's no set of tongs or gloves available, really, and he can only deposit his questionable used piece of plastic on a small pile that he's assembled. He's had no talent at cooking, really, but one can only ask for so much. "I have a tent borrowed to me from my previous benefactor, but aside from that, amenities-wise, it appears we would have to be more resourceful."

[stellerly]

“Are you sure we have?” she asks, genuinely. “Amphoreus...It's not like this, but I wouldn't be surprised if it could be.”

There's uncertainty in her counter-point, but it's because, while she's not sure where they are, and not thrilled about most of it so far, she hopes desperately that they can get back where they're supposed to be. Which is Amphoreus. But these are all thoughts flitting swiftly through her mind and brushed aside until she can do something about them. Still, it felt only fair to say that much out loud.

Stelle had woken up next to Dan Heng, but she's already mentioned he's here, so she simply nods rapidly in sympathy as Sunday explains a similar experience.

She kicks a random empty bottle towards the pile Sunday's been assembling. Helping!

“I see,” she confirms, as he continues. “I have a decent tent, too, I've seen...some of the others. Definitely lucked out.” It's no mansion, but it's better than a sheet in the wind.

ii

[workingslacker]

[ Should any sort of edible food be purple? Unless you're cooking with something that is that color or you've added some kind of dye, he supposes. No, Cale looks at the mess and wonders just what the Resort had been thinking with this one.

Now Cale had been born a noble. Raised as a noble. Had been particularly picky about his food. Rather, the previous Cale had. The man that's watching Sunday with an expression of mixed horror and disgust had once been someone else. In another life the only person that he could rely on to do anything had been himself. ]

What was it you thought you were making?

[ Which means... The current Cale Henituse does know how to cook. Just hadn't needed to. ]

Re: ii

[dayseraphim]

A stranger approaches, but Sunday is too focused on the pot, truly wondering what went wrong. Surely, he hadn't exactly needed to be a culinary genius, with how he'd been treated like a lord of an entire dreamscape, but even this exceeded expectations, in the wrong way... He hadn't exactly had a recipe book.

"... Something edible?" He offers the weak, but honest answer. That being said, it doesn't smell bad. Perhaps he would chance it anyway, seeing as he is loathe to waste food. This wasn't exactly Express-grade sustenance, but an adventurer in a foreign place should make do, right...?

"If you are looking for sustenance, I'm afraid I must disappoint you." Poisoning himself is one thing, but poisoning another innocent soul is a little above his moral grade.

[workingslacker]

You don't say.

[ Sir, that doesn't look edible. It looks the farthest thing from edible. In fact, Cale is pretty sure that dumping that on the ground will contaminate it in some way. Maybe he should leave it alone. Turn around. Walk away. Make himself a meal and just leave it at that. ]

Are you sure that you're not about to ingest some kind of poison?

me when im about to roll a 1d100 to find out exactly how bad this is--

[dayseraphim]

He's not sure how to respond. He hadn't considered his culinary prowess to be quite so lacking. And well, to be judged by a stranger on top of it all. It is a little embarrassing, isn't it?

"I... I suppose I wouldn't know until I find out." What's the worst that could happen? The spirit of the trailblaze was supposed to be about trying new things, right...?

Another purple bubble in the cauldron pops, glorps in reply. He wants to say he has a certain amount of courage, but that metal can of canned beef is starting to look more and more appetizing by the minute, even if he has no idea how long its been out there. "It would be a waste of food, though..."

Well, nothing to do about it. He dips a spoon in it, even as the little angelic sprites around him don't look so overly pleased with the idea...