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 Hot: +1x | Cold: -1 | Vol: +2x | Dark: -1 XP: 2/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Unpatriotic, Possessive Location: Hotel Ballroom The dance is, though I hate to admit it, actually quite nice, and that's even with it being a slow one and David being quite English presumably. It's the most contact I've had with an English person that wasn't brushing through one of the endless London crowds, and unlike them I actually... enjoy this? I mean, I think I do. He, he kissed me, and I don't even immediately kill him. I just stand there dumbfounded, unable to entirely comprehend what just transpired. Before I can he's gone, departed, far out of pummeling range, and... WHAT JUST HAPPENED? I, I'm blaming the moon for this, yeah. Clearly, around this time of the month, I get more animalistic. I mean I knew that, I just didn't know it applied to, uhh... Blushing, I look accusatorily around the dance floor, as if daring anyone to meet my gaze and admit they'd been watching what we'd been doing. The moon, and alcohol - two glasses of champagne that I've never had before, that's certainly to blame too, instead of me! I didn't betray my heritage and ancestry or anything, no, it's just that time of the month and I'm drunk and the music was beautiful. It's not my fault, that's the conclusion I'm brute forcing my way towards, that's the point. I... Before David can return and I can act any more foolishly, I depart this place. Room, hotel, city - I don't care. I'm not trusting myself around him while there's all those various excuses I have going on! <Rauri> Siobhan Run Away <Rauri> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 10+2 = 12 Blehhh, literally the most boring roll result on a move in the rules. Running Siobhan off in a random direction, so feel free to put her with whoever / at wherever, Ferro.
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Feb 28, 2016 10:56
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| # ? Apr 20, 2024 05:10 |
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Scene 1 Cont last prompts of this scene so if there's anything you want to do in paris get it done now. Siobahn: You flee the room at quite a pace and run and run till your lungs burn up stairs and along corridors until you burst out into the cool darkness of the Parisian night on the roof.The hateful moon casts a silvery glow upon the rooftop. Waxing but not yet full. Do you resent the hold it has on you? I mean you obviously would never have even considered an englishman like that at all without it's traitorous influence right? What is it about the english that you most despise? David Well so much for the Casanova routine. That has got to be the worst response to a kiss I've ever seen. I didn't even think you were that repulsive. But evidently Siobahn did. Where do you think you went wrong? What do you plan to do next. Go after her? or give up for the night to try again another time? Iuliana: Dredging up the ghosts of the past again are we. You shiver in a manner that has nothing to do with the cold. Why are you so scared of losing control? What happened the last time you lost control? And what are you going to do with the lovely Miss Grey. Do the two of you retreat to your room? Wallace: Ah so it's an escape from your nightmares for you. Do you ever wish you were not plagued by such visions of dooms to come and dooms that have been? Iuliana and her ahem lady friend withdraw how do you even feel about that sort of behaviour? It's just you alone with Helena and Ophelia, Helena especially seems to be staring at you intently you can feel the strands of fate twisting and turning about you. Do you tie a knot with her or cut the cord? Helena How interesting it seems that the Countess fears powerlessness, the loss of control more than anything else. Do you see any way to exploit that assuming she truly is your rival of course? She certainly seems to have ceded Wallace to you without a fight. With Ophelia lost in a haze of exotic smoke do you take advantage of that fact? How?
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Feb 29, 2016 21:46
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 Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 4/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Wallace's Rooms => Iuliana's Rooms I make my final excuses and say my temporary goodbyes automatically, as if reading lines practiced a thousand times, and gently guide out Miss Grey with only the smallest of touches, though through the entire thing, my true thoughts are elsewhere. My sudden reminiscence has called up anxieties, no, fears that grip my soul when I think back on how my life was so very different not long ago. But why did these memories disturb me so? I have known in my life deprivation, and not only the kind written about by poets with a languishing sigh. But even when hunger and obligation to my family drove me to be a servant to others, it was still of my own choice, and in my way, I was able to hold my head up high. I was able to tell myself I did all of this for a purpose and my own benefit and any notion of true servility was simply an act, another service I provided my employers. But perhaps I have already forgotten the true nature of poverty to think about it so, as some object in a philosophical discussion. Whatever the case may be, my memories were not of this, but of what happened after I met... that oh-so charming gentleman in that dark alley. What transpired after he... transformed me I can only recall in pieces, though I by now know that he never intended me to become what I am now, independent and powerful, no, his aim was to make me a servant, more complete than I had ever known before. I remember doing his bidding, and it was not even a grand task but a minor matter after which I was... forgotten, discarded. In that my former employers and my former 'master' were much the same, only being aware of those 'lesser' when they are of use and immediately after, dropping out of mind - and perhaps more damming, not out of any malice but simply habit. It is humorous in a way, in hindsight: Being of no regard for both my 'master' and the fine gentlemen I worked for led me to where I am today. My master never intended greater things for me, and if my employers or that Dutch professor had paid me any mind, they might have realized what I had turned into. But all of this is not why a shiver of dread ran down my spine and why I have to make an effort to keep my countenance serene as I lead Miss Grey towards my rooms. The servitude my 'master' made me give was... complete. Unthinking. Without doubt or any thought at all. It sickens and angers me, the deliberate destruction of.. who I am, of my soul, my will, what makes me a person and not simply a tool, and not even one of any large importance, for someone else's designs. To be made so insignificant not even in their eyes, but also to be made small inside myself, to even sweep away the dignity of resistance and resentment. I let a final spasm of a shiver run across my body - my hand is on Miss Grey's shoulder, and she may interpret my reaction quite differently - before I steel my soul by reaffirming a promise I made to myself. Neither my 'master', if he yet lives, nor any like them shall make me subjugate myself ever again, shall ever make me anything less, diminish me as a person. I won't allow anything to rob me of this freedom, independence, both in what I am now able to do and how I am able to feel, think. An easy smile once again spreads across my lips and as we are now very close to my room, I start removing Miss Grey's scarf and look at her now exposed neck with a hunger, stoked by my reaffirmation of my intention to do what I want. At this, I stop and force myself to calm down, remind myself that I must watch myself, especially when it comes to the matter of my.. thirst. I am reminded of that odious but weak-willed industrialist. If only he had not boasted about exploiting his workers, of cutting their wages and using the most heinous methods to stop unrest with such pride... when his life was in my hands, when his life's blood was flowing into me, my thirst mixed with my desire to see him... bought low, to have him have a taste of helplessness before greater powers. And I would have brought him before the last, final power had I not gotten myself under control just in time. He had to be hospitalized, and I moved on before finding out whether he lived. All in all, I was able to avoid the worst, at least when it comes to myself. Though I was not always so lucky, and I dare not think about how I... fed while under my 'master's' control, for I was mindless, or at the very least not in possession of my own mind. I am so distracted it is as if I am sleepwalking through what is outside my own mind. Me and Miss Grey - she tells me her first name is Alice, finally, have entered my rooms and I realize belatedly it would have been wiser to visit her own. I do not want to hurt Miss Grey, Alice, that is: she is so adoring and her offer is simply so... flattering, feeling me with a giddy excitement and, yes, a certain girlish uncertainty I am determined not to show. Still, I have to watch myself. I almost laugh out loud - it seems I should not be the only one I will have to watch, Alice has put her hands onto my shoulders and is stroking my cheek, why, I even believe she is subtly pulling me towards the bed. "Alice, Alice, Alice." I smile and put her hands into mine and off my shoulder. Of course I will not admit that things are moving a little too fast, are too little under my control. "I know you are very intent on what you came here for, but...." I lay down on the bed and with a hand on her chest, keep her standing. "...should we not use the opportunity to finally freely converse, now that we are free of the ears of others?" Sex Move: Denying someone sexually. Iuliana gains a string on Alice Grey. I pause before continuing as if making simple conversation, though in my mind I am not as calm as I appear. What Alice proposed is... unknown. Perhaps it is the gloominess of my earlier thoughts that drives me to counter them, but I am determined to at least consider exploring the... intriguing liberty and decadence of it. "Have you had the opportunity to enjoy some of the art so abundantly available here in Paris?" I move up in my bed, coming to a rest half sitting, half laying down. "I am thinking of some of the classical sculptures, in particular. I have in my mind's eye a young woman fetching water, either a goddess or a servant..." I look up at her with the slightest of smiles, my finger on my lip as if in thought. "...dressed in some simple gown. Although..." I look further down, as if only now realizing something. "...her entire upper body was uncovered." I am sure Alice will understand the suggestion. I take her hand into mine, lead her arm towards me, to come to a rest close to my lips. I imagine I can almost see, hear, smell her veins beneath the skin, so full of life. "Alice, there is something I have to confess. The moment I saw you, I knew that you were someone... someone I could share a secret with." I gaze into her eyes, make my own pleading in a royal, still commanding way. "There is something very special you can give to me, something very special we can share with each other. I know you, unlike so many others, would understand and could properly... attend to my needs." I pull her arm closer, look at her. "And you want to attend to my needs, do you not? But Alice: I need your promise that you will be discreet and never tell anyone about what happens here, no matter what." I smell the skin of her arm. I can feel my fangs itching, trying to break free. "I know you want this, Alice." <nil_> Iuliana Manipulate Alice Grey <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 7+2 = 9 Spending string to increase Manipulate to 12. Request: Alice Grey will let Iuliana suck her blood and Alice will never tell anyone about what happened. Motive: Iuliana will be very appreciative. nil. fucked around with this message at 13:45 on Mar 4, 2016 |
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Mar 2, 2016 22:49
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 Hot: -1 Cold: -1 Volatile: +1 Dark: +2 XP: 1/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Location: the Chamber of Kush Offering a Promise as a result of the Turn On... The vision of the Countess's secret -- the dragon! The puppet strings! -- is too familiar in its overtones, and while I cannot speak to its literal meaning, I understand its implications quite strongly. The Countess is held in thrall to a force even more malevolent than those blackest of powers of the Beyond... and I do owe her a favor. And she is very alluring. And with vague misgivings swirling in my mind, I cannot allow her to give in to this most terrible fear. "Countess," I whisper, just before she turns to leave. "If you require any aid against -- what troubles you -- you have my word, I will assist you." It's barely said before she's gone, and I blink hard, trying to return to myself. She truly does have a way of distracting the senses... but Wallace is still here, bless him, and he still has the vague sense of foreboding and grief that makes him seem delicious. With the Countess and Miss Grey absent, perhaps I might advance my case. "Mr. Gage," I say, in an attempt to begin politely, "I believe we have gotten off on the wrong foot. I was, perhaps... hasty. Brusque. Is there any chance you might forgive me my trespasses?" I offer him a slow, languid smile, hoping the hashish has had more of a relaxing effect on him than it has on me. "After all, we've only just begun to get acquainted." Turn On Wallace: 2d6-1 1 ahahahah hot screaming drat
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Mar 4, 2016 11:36
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 5/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Iuliana's Rooms Alice looks down upon me and it is with pleasure that I can see her deep adoration, no, desire for me. "Yes, yes, I want this." Her voice is breathy. She is slightly uncertain about what it is that I am asking, but I can see that this uncertainty is losing its power by the second, eclipsed by... my power. "I would be delighted to help you with any problem you..." She bites her lip. The language we always cloak ourselves in is keeping her from saying what she truly means, and she notices it. She notices me noticing it. I simply smile at her, as if I am indulgently giving her more time. It is odd, my heart should be beating faster - and I suppose it is, somewhat - but I feel... calm, collected, excited while feeling in control. I reach out to her, lightly brush her chin, give her the slightest encouraging nod. "Anything. Anything for you." I positively beam when she says it. "Kneel next to me, Alice, and I will show you what we can share." She does as commanded, at through my excitement and anticipation, I abstractedly notice my own hypocrisy: of how I so railed against servitude in my mind just a few minutes ago and how much it now pleases me now to have Alice behave like my servant. But her bare arm, resting so willingly in my hands, is pumping with such a sweet nectar, such... warm life that the thought dissipates from my mind with a pleasurableness not unlike the effect that Wallace's hashish had on all distractions. I can feel her heart beating faster through her skin, pumping fresh blood through young veins. My fangs have extended, and I delight in not having to force them back. "I want you to share with me... the warmth of beauty, of youth, of liberty." I move her arm yet closer to my mouth, my lips slowly but inexorably parting further and further. "I want to share with you the warmth of life." My teeth strike, piercing the skin, though it is gentle in it's way. The intoxicating taste of Alice's life's blood brushes over my tongue. I can hear her gasp, though any shock she feels is mixed with pleasure, I think. I feed, her blood filling me with such warmth. After indulging for a few blissful moments, I look up at her, her eyes closed. I put an arm around her shoulder to steady her, as she seems to be swaying even while on her knees. I keep her in my sight, recalling my promise that I would not wish to hurt her and so, I must watch her face, to see when ecstasy transforms into tiredness and then... beyond. I must force myself to stop before that. Oh, she is... delicious, but I must leave her with some strength, if only so she may be able to help me explore other things. Marking XP via Feeding. Choosing: you carry 1 forward; they don’t die. nil. fucked around with this message at 12:43 on Mar 7, 2016 |
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Mar 7, 2016 10:13
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apologies for the delay. I've been ill and I'm only just starting to recover. But the game ain't dead if people are still interested. PS you know I said that was the last lot of prompts? Well I lied. Scene 1 Cont Iuliana: As the two of you lay panting and exhausted you have time to take stock. Is this the first time you've confessed your condition to someone? Also is this the first time you've you know with a woman? Is that a recent development or do you believe it to be some unanticipated but definitely pleasurable side effect of your condition? Helena: It seems the Hashish has had more of a relaxing effect upon you than you realise As you reach for your glass you find it slipping through your suddenly clumsy fingers leaving you showered with glass and a spreading red stain upon your bodice. Do you retreat to change or will you not let it bother you and continue your advances regardless? you gain the condition clumsy
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Mar 18, 2016 00:01
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 5/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Iuliana's Rooms I lay on my bed and inside me is the most intriguing mixture between vigour and exquisite exhaustion, as if I were able to make a speech or ride for miles, but simply do not want to, do not have to. There is a warmth on my skin as if a fire was warming the bareness of my body - even though I at least seem to have had the presence of mind to cover myself with a blanket, though I am quite naked below. I have to cover my mouth to prevent myself from laughing out loud at the sheer... scandalousness of what happened, no, the scandalousness of me. I have a vague notion that I should be ashamed or at the very least afraid of what others may say if they found out, but all I can do is smile contently and move such concerns to be thought about later. Alice is next to me, on her side and turned away from me, sleeping. Her skin is paler than it was, it is true, but her breathing is steady and it is almost as if I can sense the warmth of life still in her veins, all the more now that she has shared it with me. In more ways than one, I think and lay back, looking out the window at the dark city beyond. My life has changed so much - it is funny as I have to project towards others such a confidence into who I am, even though I sometimes have to wonder who I am playing anymore, as if a play's character has taken on a life of its own. I have given Alice an inkling of what I am, though I doubt she knows more than simply me being... different. And I have her promise not to tell a soul of what happened, and I trust her to keep it. Others I have pursued due to my thirst I had to be more persuasive with, using some of the gifts I received due to my transformation. Of course, a countess does not always require supernatural means to command silence. It is a delicate art, one I am still learning. I sigh. All of this I already knew, of course. All of this was already the case before tonight. What is different is what I allowed Alice to share with me besides her warm, intoxicating blood. It was... pleasant. I smile. It was. Before, I thought of it as something scandalous and thus appropriate for my assumed role, but what I did was not an act, was it? Certainly Alice''s adoration for me made it more enticing, and any nervousness on my part was sweeped away when I was flush with her blood and she was... not weak, simply receptive. I made her show me what she intended to do before I allowed her to, and seeing her comply even though I could see she wanted to do nothing better than to throw herself at me - it was pleasing to me. But I wonder: Was it merely some expression of vanity I now realise it sounds like or do such desires lurk in my heart? Did they lurk there when I was still... my old self, or is it because I am now a creature of thirst, desire, decadence? Or is this simply how I think of myself? I sigh, though not unhappily. I could despair at the secrets in my mind, though in truth, they seem right now more to me like puzzles, an undiscovered continent that is my new life. Because one thing is for certain: Whoever I turn out to be, I will have the power, the strength, the independence to make it so. A glimmer of the resolve I earlier felt after my terrible vision returns to me. I will be who I chose to be and walk the paths I chose. My old life is over and I am... masterless. No. I shall be a master, of myself and others. I turn to face Alice, still asleep. I know that in the morrow, we will part ways - and then I realise that if there had been any chance that she might have... held my heart prisoner, I would not have shared anything beyond her blood with me. It may be cruel and it may be cold, but for the sake of my past in which I have let my heart lead me to ruin and for the sake of my future, still so uncertain, I must remain free. I may possess, but no longer may I be possessed. Not again, not through foolishness or the terrible power of others. nil. fucked around with this message at 18:40 on Mar 23, 2016 |
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Mar 22, 2016 21:30
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Hot: -1 Cold: -1 Volatile: +1 Dark: +2 XP: 2/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Clumsy Location: the Chamber of Kush Oh, no. Even the sound of the glass shattering is dim in comparison to the doom shooting in my ears. The hashish has brought me langour, and however nice such a thought might have been, it is cruelly unwanted in the face of the phantasms in my peripheral vision and the all-too-real shame that surrounds me. This wasn't right. I should have stayed at home, played my little part there, or at least stayed quite quietly to myself on the journey. In the Old World, I am all too easily revealed as a provincial fool, one with ambitions above her station, one with a well-earned doom breathing down her neck. I have to get out of here. I have to return to solitude, where I can commune with the Beyond, where I can plan -- I force myself out of my chair, murmuring apologies, and stumble towards the door, but the lassitude in the air causes my limbs to fail me. I stumble, barely catching myself against the wall, and slide down into a heap. For the moment, doom and shame are too thick around me for me to move. Run Away from complete social terribleness: 2d6+1 3 ... Well, uh, at least I got a Vol roll in before end of scene? XP for rolling Volatile marked above.
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Mar 22, 2016 23:49
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 Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Wallace's Rooms After Iluiana and Miss Grey leave, hand in hand, and Miss Grenville politely excuses herself, you find the silence as heavy as the smoke in the air. Miss Vandervliet seems to fancy herself attractive -- and, indeed, she is -- but there is something predatory about her attractiveness, some motivation hidden behind her kind words and her intimations that you and she are not so different, that she would be a kind ear to listen and a shoulder to rest your head on, if only for a few moments. A reminder of schooldays when Daidh MacPherson was your best friend for two weeks, then told everyone you fancied the French teacher Miss Mariani and then he and Bhaltair and Brian Conlin beat you up and called you a fag for liking girls. Upon reflection, that last part didn't parse (not that, had it been Mr. Skeates instead, it would have mattered to you, if you'd actually fancied him), but your nose was bloody and your jacket torn all the same. Why'd he do it? You never found out. But it's been difficult to trust people who are too forward, too eager to offer help, who want you to give them your burdens and share your private thoughts. "I'm sorry, what?" you hear yourself say. She drops a glass, spilling wine all over herself, and seems to get possessed by The Fear. You've heard of this before, from your brother, tales of those who do too much, too much, and retreat into themselves, a dark, introspective trip through roads that aren't normally taken, a train of thought that one wants to get off of, a night's mare that rides where it pleases and will not obey the reigns. She rushes the door, mumbling apologies, clawing at the handle, and collapses in a heap, unable to lift herself. How could you be cruel? "Don't worry, old girl, it's only a glass. Just take a deep breath, and concentrate on my voice. Don't think about anything else, just focus on the here and now. We'll get you fixed up right quick." You almost start to dab up the stain, but think better at the last moment and offer her your handkerchief instead. Lifting her up, though, leaves the two of you quite close, and you can feel the warmth of her breath on your face. She doesn't weigh much.
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Mar 23, 2016 15:08
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| # ? Apr 20, 2024 05:10 |
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 Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 2/5 Harm: 1/4 Conditions: Clumsy, Doomed Location: Outside the Hotel Oh bollocks. Clearly my last move had been far to forwards for pure, delicate Siobhan to handle. The only thing to do now would be to give chase and proclaim my most profuse apologies. I rush after her through the crowd, more than likely bumping into some fancy French socialite on the say. Least I hope they were French, never should pass up a chance to rile up the Frogs a little. Especially if it was that cretin Augustus St. Germaine, by God does that man make my skin crawl! I push out of the hotel and am unceremoniously spit out onto the streets of Paris. While it certinaly doesn't match up to the splendor of London it does come quite close. I look around wildly for her, hoping that I haven't lost her in the crowd. If I did it would be rather embarssing, not only making a girl run away with a kiss but also losing her in a city of the drat French. I should be able to pick her out among the Frogs with ease, not a one of them could match up to her beauty! Honestly she should stick out like a sore thumb, a radiant stare in a pond full of tadpools. I think that metaphor got away from me somewhere.
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Mar 24, 2016 19:43
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