agentleooc | test drive 02

I know dust grows even when there is a breeze
Can't move, can't grow When you've fallen on your knees

► All TDM threads may be considered canon provided both parties agree and are accepted into the game.

► Canon threads may be redeemed for influence and reputation depending on how you solve the issue at hand or how you engage with the prompt. They also count toward AC.

► Feel free to switch up your character's Jewel from thread to thread. Get a feel for how a Birthright Jewel may limit or enhance your character's abilities.

HOT UNDER THE COLLARD GREENS
The relationship between the Blood and the landens has never been easy anywhere, least of all Draega, and even less so now that the Strangers have arrived. Between Blood and landen, opinions on the Strangers vary wildly. Some Blood believe the Strangers were landen in their original worlds and thus cannot possibly have anything to offer, but some landens think this means that the Strangers will be more sympathetic to them—or that landens could gain the power of the Blood one day, too. Then there are the landens who think the Strangers have sold their souls to Queen Fayura to gain the Jewels and the Blood who think the Strangers have embraced what it truly means to be Blood. Whatever that means.

Tensions are high, and they're highest on the main street of the Old Town Bazaar, where two restaurants have an on-going feud. The Last Meal is owned by a Blood family, none of whom wear a Jewel darker than Yellow. Across the street from them stands the mockingly named Blood and Breakfast, owned by a landen family.

To say these two hate each other would be something of an understatement.

On this particular morning, Lord Harle, the Yellow Jeweled owner and chef at The Last Meal, comes storming out of his front door. "You've done it now, Laney Cook! Soured all my milk!"

Simultaneously, Laney Cook, who is the owner and chef at Blood and Breakfast, comes stomping out the front door of her establishment, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. "Aye, and you've replaced all my sugar with salt, you ripe old bastard!"

Without missing a beat, both turn to you and the Stranger at your side. Wrong place, wrong time, friend. The two chefs decide the two of you can be trusted to help them prove the other party guilty of sabotage because neither of you has a stake in this. And, well, if the Queen brought you here, you should be an independent party. Both Harle and Cook seem to think the Queen is pretty okay.

Truthfully, they're both equally guilty. Lord Harle and Ms Cook have been trying to ruin each other for years, but who knows what you'll find when you go searching for evidence. And even if you find evidence that decides one way or the other, perhaps you'll simply lie and manufacture a solution that suits you—or the Queen who brought you here.

TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S
You're not entirely sure how this happened, but you're starting to understand why Blood females constantly grumble about the caste of males they call Warlord Princes. Prince Loren has, somehow, managed to maneuver you to the place you're at now: the head of a classroom full of Blood children who all look like they're somewhere between the ages of eight and ten. It's hard to tell, and you're pretty sure one bossy little boy declared he was 203-years-old, so everyone else has to listen to him, thanks.

Regardless of how Loren managed to get you there, there you stand. Fifteen energetic elementary school children all wearing Jewels shriek and shout, using Craft to amplify already shrill voices. One girl floats near the ceiling, her face screwed up in concentration as she clutches a Rose Jewel. Two little boys are taking turns passing their hands through their desks, which strikes you as distinctly unsafe for eight-year-olds to be doing. (You're not wrong.)

At least there are two of you, and you only need to babysit these children for the morning. "They're here for Craft lessons. Surely, you can manage until Lady Sheera arrives," Loren had said before abandoning you to a battlefield full of powerful, pint-sized children.

There's a lesson plan on the teacher's desk, but maybe you should lead with the snacks.

REVENGE, SERVED STINKY
The air is crisp and cool; it's still winter, but it's not as chilly as it has been, and so you're out for a walk. You've made your way north through Old Town and now find yourself meandering down the roads in front of the landen Guild Halls. Even though they're all made of red brick, each building is entirely unique. The Hunter and Crafter Hall, the largest of all the buildings, has more in common with a hunting lodge than the university building it once was. The Elektriline Hall might be the smallest building, but it's covered in neon lights and impossible to ignore.

Equally impossible to ignore is Master Tinker Mari and her collection of landen young adults. They're clustered around a storm drain. When Mari sees you, she detaches herself from the group of landen students and bounds over to you. "Ahhah! Stranger! You have been brought here against your will and are surely sympathetic to our cause!" she exclaims.

That doesn't make you feel too great since, you know, you're aware that the Hunter Guild tried to kill all the Strangers maybe two or three weeks ago. They may have mellowed out, or they may just be biding their time. Thankfully, none of Mari's students bear the markings of a Hunter.

She pulls you to the group. Already, canisters have been lowered into the sewers. A handful of students have clambered down after the canisters. "The Blood wouldn't help us repair the damage in Old Town," she says, rubbing her hands together. "Our people's homes were unlivable. So we're going to make their workplace unbearable." She points at the canisters. "Stink bombs."

There's another Stranger in the group, and you make eye contact over the top of the storm drain. Are you of the same mind as each other? As Mari? The choice is yours: agree to Mari's plan and fill the buildings of the Ebon Council with untenable stench or try to convince them there's a better way.

AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you're spinning the dial on your own device, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Today we're talking about everyone's favorite subject.

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Food?

[A laugh from Evandra.] No, Lord Aren. Sex and flirting. Culturally, the Blood don't consider it rude to flirt quite blatantly with each other, even when one or both of the parties is married. Isn't that right?

[Aren:] That's exactly it, Evandra. Older males allow young witches to flirt because it's understood that the male isn't interested or available. He becomes a safe partner for her to practice on, and his approval lets her know what is and isn't acceptable.

[Evandra:] What does it mean if a married male or witch flirts with you?

[Aren:] Casual flirting means that witch or male thinks you're safe. It's their way of telling you they feel comfortable around you. Of course, it's always acceptable to ask them to step back! [He laughs.] As we all know, just because you can flirt with a Warlord Prince's lady doesn't mean you should!

[Evandra:] Let's take a look at casual flirtation between different Blood castes…

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] Warmer temperatures will see melting snow over the next week. Be careful around the Heartsblood River, as the heavy snows will result in flooding along the banks. Need flood insurance? The Transport Guild is looking to expand into…

the news
…amusing to hear that Grand Master Niall blames the Blood for the fires in Old Town. It is my understanding that members of the Blood, these so-called Strangers, went out of their way to rescue both Blood and landen during the fires set by the Grand Master's Hunter Guild. [The man speaking has a slow, clipped cadence to his voice. It's very posh and polished.]

[Another voice, presumably an interviewer:] The Council counts the Strangers as Blood, Lord Grejor?

[Grejor:] What else can they be? They wear the Jewels, therefore they are among our number. [He laughs, and the sound is cold.] The Council is pleased to welcome our new brothers and sisters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Huh. Seemed the little 'Lady' had a backbone. Or at least, a shitty enough experience that his big bad wasn't impressing her. He'd come across sadistic types before, but flying someone alive? That almost sounded like Klaus. Or Mikael.]

Bite. I drink blood. Part of being undead. Your ex sounds like a dick -- Take it from someone who's familiar. You're really not freaked out, huh?

[That just made Sansa 'Interesting'.]

( Drinking blood. Well, it's strange, to say the least, but depending on how badly it hurt to be bitten and how much blood was taken, it might not be terrible. It could be endured. )

I've suffered every indignity and immeasurable pain from a man who had rights to me just because I was forced to exchange words with him. I don't think you drinking my blood ranks highly on things I'm afraid of. Besides, women know more of blood than men. We see much more of it.

[Be still his slowly beating heart. He laughed at her reply, nodding to himself, alone, as he agreed. He supposed she was right. Probably why most of the female vampires he met were so... specific.]

I can make it good. I CAN make it terrible too. But in the right scenario, it can be more than good.

[There were other things he could share; the healing, the other abilities he had, but he was laying the bait now. Seeing if she'd nibble or not.]

I've been bitten before. It wasn't what I would describe as pleasurable. I suppose you're going to tell me you have a certain way you'd go about it?

Oh, I do. Sharper teeth help, but there's other things...

[Here, fishy fishy fishy.]

So you'll bite me with your sharper teeth and it hurts less because it takes less time? I suppose that would be advantageous if one drinks blood.

( ... )

What other things?

[Tug, tug.]

THOSE kinds of things are ones you'd have to find out in person. I don't make the rules.

Are you asking me to offer you my blood? How much would you need? Would I have an assurance you won't take it all?

I could give you my word, but you'd have to figure out on if you'd believe it or not. I might be asking for more than just blood. Or, maybe, the attempt to prove my point. Points.

( Oh. )

Are you propositioning me?

I might be. ;)

I would be absolutely mad to say yes. I have no assurance that it wouldn't be the same as it was before. Trust me, I've never engaged in that act willingly.

Ouch. I've never left a bed partner unsatisfied. That hurts. My ego's fragile.

Suppose I agreed, then. Would you let me leave if I wanted to leave? This is a very important question. No locking me into rooms.

[If he felt like being a sadistic asshole with his food, then the answer would be no. But he was still casting out feelers here, trying to see who was who and what was what. The whole magic thing wasn't exactly new to him, but everyone here having an ability was. So it seemed prudent not to piss off someone that might be able to turn him into a giant floppy penis.]

If I wanted to keep you, I wouldn't need to lock a door to do it. But I'm not exactly going to keep you prisoner when I've been chit-chatting with you in a public forum. Not very smart.

I suppose I can trust you, then. I'll allow you to drink my blood. And, well, I suppose I'll allow you to bed me if you want that. Perhaps you'll change my mind on the matter.

I suppose you prefer wine over bourbon, huh?

I've never heard of bourbon, actually. I've drunk wine before. What does bourbon taste like?

Better. With a burn. And not as sweet.

[Wine was okay for dinners and such, but Damon was a heavy drinker. He had to be to keep the bloodlust at a dull roar. Bourbon was just a state-specific preference; one he hadn't quite been able to shake.]

Always try things once.

Then we shall drink your bourbon, provided it won't affect...the taste of anything. I don't know how blood is supposed to taste to vampires, I'm afraid, so I leave that to your expertise.

If I'm to be bitten, is there a way to do it where it wouldn't show publicly? Would that be amenable to you?

Drinking makes it better. Trust me.

[How he'd lucked out so much, he couldn't say, but he'd have to play soft and careful with this one. Public exposure back home was one thing. Public exposure in a world full of witches? Potentially sucky.]

That's something to talk about in person. Pretty sure you don't want me listing all the potential spots for nibbling in public.

No, I do not think it would be appropriate to list those things in public. I would imagine they are better discussed behind closed doors. I will have to ask you not to be alarmed when you see me. My last husband was not a gentle jailor, I’m afraid.

You just saw me sprout fangs and get all weird. I think I can handle whatever you're hiding.

You might re-evaluate that once you see precisely what I mean. He needed my face unblemished but the rest of me became a canvas. I've never shown anyone.

[He could give a glib response to that, but he thought of his mom. Of the bruises she'd hidden behind lace. Of some of his own playmates. Ugh. Being around Stefan and Elena had made him mushy.]

Pretty sure I've seen worse, but I promise not to faint. You can draw on me if I do.

(no subject)

theladyofwinterfell - 2019-02-15 03:54 (UTC) - Expand

withbite - 2019-02-15 03:59 (UTC) - Expand

theladyofwinterfell - 2019-02-15 04:04 (UTC) - Expand

withbite - 2019-02-17 02:21 (UTC) - Expand

theladyofwinterfell - 2019-02-17 02:25 (UTC) - Expand

withbite - 2019-02-17 02:54 (UTC) - Expand