Remove ads

Dragon Harem Quest - Or: Saying You Were Gay Wasn't The Conversation-Ender You Hoped For

View content
Remove ads
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Why Does Everything Have To Be So Difficult!?
  • View content
    • Who do you trust the least? Now that's just mean. There's no winning when someone asks you who you're most negative about. It's so much simpler to just go 'oh I like X the most' and leave everyone else in the comfortable unstated medium. But noooo Belial has to go and try to make you get all Real about things, the big... dumb... stupid person, look it's hard to think around Belial at the best of times and this is decidedly not the best of times. You need an answer that sounds good, something safe and constructive and just a touch Wise.

    "... myself," you reply, and it comes off a lot less sage and self-aware than you intended it to. You regret it the moment you say it, angrily biting off the very tail end of the soft, almost mournful word. Grimacing as you await Belial's reaction.

    It's his turn to grimace. Not a lot, mind, but enough. You wince, he winces as he notices your reaction, it's just a great big feedback loop of terribleness.

    "It's- look I'm-" he gestures vaguely, grasping at the air as if hoping to physically catch hold of something to anchor everything. He sighs. "I'm frustrated and I'm sorry about that but I can't help it. Either you're just fishing for points with the 'right' answer - which I don't really believe and sincerely hope you aren't - or you sincerely do already trust everyone more than you which is quite frankly just asinine."

    "I-I'm sorry?" you stammer, mostly confused because it feels like there's a third option in there somewhere but you don't know the shape of it so trying to grab at it mostly just feels like trying to snag a ball of lard in a pitch-black room, blindfolded, one-handed. Belial approaches again, click-click-click, and rests his hands on your biceps.

    "Let's... try to take this one thing at a time," he says, squeezing your arms to try and calm you down as he sorts through his thoughts in kind. "Based on what I've heard from Abzu, the map isn't some guarantee. You can't just sit on your laurels and expect everyone it pings to just work out with you sight unseen - it doesn't work like that, nothing worth doing does. What, d'you think you're the only one in this whole big equation that can make a mistake?"

    "I don't know!" you exclaim. "That's why we're having this conversation!"

    "Okay! Good!" he replies. "I'm just trying to say that it's better to be realistic about your expectations in all this and try to see everyone here for who they really are, flaws and all. There's- there's always going to be an element of deliberately making yourself vulnerable and hoping that it all works out, I get that, but there's a limit to that too. Ultimately you have to be in charge of you, y'know? If a relationship starts to turn sour and starts to hurt you you need the confidence to be able to cut it off, decisively, so that you can keep going and recover from whatever damage it already managed to do. You get me?"

    You grimace and look away. You found yourself thinking about Mother for some reason and the visceral reaction's left you feeling unwell to the pit of your stomach. Belial's experienced in his own field, you won't disparage him in that regard, but he clearly doesn't know much about some relationships. He gets to vanish back to the infernal plane when things run their course, but nobody else does. Sometimes you people up in the material world are just stuck with each other and have to live with it, no matter how it grates like a handful of gravel down your trousers. If it were that easy you wouldn't even be in this situation. There'd be no Jun-ho, no Makram, no Issachar, not even him. Just you alone in your spire again, with some peace and godsdamned quiet.

    "Eldingar?" Belial prods you.

    "Yes, yes I get you," you half-snap, irritable and anxious and on-edge like there's ants crawling all over you. Or under your scales you suppose. Which is even worse and also more accurate.

    "I know... I know this isn't the fun part," he says. "But I'm worried about you, Eldingar. Ever since the Takara thing."

    The bottom drops out of your stomach. It's not really an improvement on the previous sour, curdling feeling. You try not to stare at the raised claw-marks still visible slashing across the shallow valley between his pecs but you can't help it. Sometimes it's hard enough for you to empathise with how fragile mortals are, but if Belial has trouble standing beds then... well.

    Belial gently cradles your chin in his claws, lifting your gaze to meet his. You let him. There's a slight smile on his face, warm and sympathetic.

    "Hey," he says softly. "You're too cute to look so sad."

    "(Shut up)," you mumblewhine, averting your gaze. You turn your head a few degrees off-course but Belial patiently tugs you back into position. You let him, again.

    "There's a lot in this world that you have to worry about," he goes on, "and as a partner I'm kind of... limited in what I can help you with. Just ask the others what an indomitable beast I am in a fight, hah. This is what I know, and I want to help you as much as I can. So just try to understand that's where I'm coming from, okay?"

    "... okay," you say eventually, as if pulling teeth.

    He plants a kiss on the tip of your snout, little more than a peck. You make a startled 'gnhk?' sort of noise and he can't help but snort, his smile only spreading wider.

    "I am a fearsome dragon and I will not be disrespected in this manner," you protest with a frown.

    "Yeah you aaaaare~" he singsongs in a low, husky tone, tickling you beneath the chin with his talons. You squirm uncomfortably, torn between remaining outwardly grumpy and admitting that that feels really good. At last he ceases his cold-blooded torture, instead resting his tar-armoured palm against your sternum as he holds your gaze.

    "I think this can work," he says. "I think it'll be hard, and I think you'll have a lot of work on your plate, but I think I can help and I think it'll all work out in the end. And then it'll be the fun part. So what d'you say? Willing to give it a shot?"

    You think about it. On the one hand, surely it's the most dragony thing in the world to amass a hoard of such high-quality boyfriends and other, right? Oh sure, show you a dragon who says they've never had a fling or seven with mortals around their domain and you'll point out a liar, but ones of this calibre? Rare. Very rare. In fact you're pretty sure your father was one in his day. Albeit you're equally sure Mother ate him at some point but that's beside the point. The point being... you've gotten a little sidetracked, the point being that once this whole situation does invariably come out to Mother's attention, you can't really see it doing anything but improving your standing in the family. Really, just imagine it! Swanning into Nana Illvithri's birthday celebration with seven boyfriends hanging off your various appendages, what a sight you'd be!

    And... if spending the night in Belial's arms felt like that, the greediest part of you really wants to know how much better it'd be with even more people in the mix. That's not unreasonable, is it?

    "Yeah," you say at last, before Belial feels the need to prod you again. "Yeah I- yes I will. I would settle for no less than maximum effort in fact!" Your voice raises in volume and strength, only to hitch and drop back down just as quickly. "So, uh... how should I start?"

    "Let's try something easy," Belial replies. "Me, for example."

    " 'eyyyyy."

    " 'eyyyyy." The two of you point at each other. Belial drops his hand, but leaves the other resting on your sternum. "So, starting out nice and simple. We've talked about plenty of stuff but there's a lot of gaps I'm sure you'd love to know. So, now's your chance. If there's anything at all you want to know about me, go ahead and ask."

    [ ] Ask him about his previous partners. How many has he had? Which ones was he really not a fan of and why? Which ones did he really like and why?
    [ ] Ask for more details about the life of an incubus in the infernal plane. Is it hard? Easy? Fun? Work? Do incubi hang out with other incubi after their shift ends? Is there some kind of ultimate goal or 'promotion' to look forward to?
    [ ] Ask about incubi themselves. How are they created? How does ageing work if at all? In all your (ahem) research you never found evidence of one that looked older than twentysomething, so Belial's appearance kind of begs some questions.
    [ ] Ask about the previous relationship he pretty clearly dodged the question about. He did say relationships are about trust and communication and stuff, and in the context of 'longer relationships' it's kind of immediately relevant.
    [ ] Ask about the implications of succeeding or failing at drawing him into a polyamorous web of relationships. What happens to the contract that sent him here and trapped him in the material plane? Is there a risk of him bamfing away back to hell at some point?
    [ ] Ask him more about the extent and limitations of his powers. A bit on the lighter side but you're honestly (and not-so-innocently) just curious. Plus it's still a bit relevant since using them consumes the resource he needs to live.
    [ ] Ask how things have been going with the others so far. Since interpersonal relationships with demons are understandably going to get complicated, and you're sure Makram and Issachar will have had Opinions if not Jun-ho and Abzu too.
    [ ] Ask how you can make him comfortable here. What sort of fabrics you can have his room furnished with so he can be properly comfortable, what sort of decorations he might like for it - he did mention having his own space being pretty new to him.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jun 28, 2018 at 6:13 AM, finished with 2796 posts and 26 votes.
    • [X] Ask how you can make him comfortable here. What sort of fabrics you can have his room furnished with so he can be properly comfortable, what sort of decorations he might like for it - he did mention having his own space being pretty new to him.
      [X] Ask about incubi themselves. How are they created? How does ageing work if at all? In all your (ahem) research you never found evidence of one that looked older than twentysomething, so Belial's appearance kind of begs some questions.
      [X] Ask for more details about the life of an incubus in the infernal plane. Is it hard? Easy? Fun? Work? Do incubi hang out with other incubi after their shift ends? Is there some kind of ultimate goal or 'promotion' to look forward to?
      [X] Ask how things have been going with the others so far. Since interpersonal relationships with demons are understandably going to get complicated, and you're sure Makram and Issachar will have had Opinions if not Jun-ho and Abzu too.
      [X] Ask about the implications of succeeding or failing at drawing him into a polyamorous web of relationships. What happens to the contract that sent him here and trapped him in the material plane? Is there a risk of him bamfing away back to hell at some point?
      [X] Ask about the previous relationship he pretty clearly dodged the question about. He did say relationships are about trust and communication and stuff, and in the context of 'longer relationships' it's kind of immediately relevant.
      [X] Ask how you can make him comfortable here. What sort of fabrics you can have his room furnished with so he can be properly comfortable, what sort of decorations he might like for it - he did mention having his own space being pretty new to him. ​
    Click to expand...
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jun 29, 2018 at 10:19 AM, finished with 2806 posts and 30 votes.
    • [X] Ask how you can make him comfortable here. What sort of fabrics you can have his room furnished with so he can be properly comfortable, what sort of decorations he might like for it - he did mention having his own space being pretty new to him.
      [X] Ask about incubi themselves. How are they created? How does ageing work if at all? In all your (ahem) research you never found evidence of one that looked older than twentysomething, so Belial's appearance kind of begs some questions.
      [X] Ask how things have been going with the others so far. Since interpersonal relationships with demons are understandably going to get complicated, and you're sure Makram and Issachar will have had Opinions if not Jun-ho and Abzu too.
      [X] Ask for more details about the life of an incubus in the infernal plane. Is it hard? Easy? Fun? Work? Do incubi hang out with other incubi after their shift ends? Is there some kind of ultimate goal or 'promotion' to look forward to?
      [X] Ask about the implications of succeeding or failing at drawing him into a polyamorous web of relationships. What happens to the contract that sent him here and trapped him in the material plane? Is there a risk of him bamfing away back to hell at some point?
      [X] Ask how you can make him comfortable here. What sort of fabrics you can have his room furnished with so he can be properly comfortable, what sort of decorations he might like for it - he did mention having his own space being pretty new to him. ​
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Thirty-Eight: If Your Family Ever Caught You Being This Considerate And Accommodating Who Knows What They'd Do
  • View content
    • "Alright, let's start somewhere small," you say. "What can I do for your room here? What kinds of fabric feel comfortable? I don't know the first thing about how you soft and squishy types like your living arrangements but I won't have you putting up with discomfort."

    "That's... not really what I had in mind," he says, almost a touch confused that you'd bother to inquire about his comfort.

    "Yeah well it's in the spirit so... mneh."

    He chuckles, a smile lingering on his lips. "You've got me there." He exhales slowly, resting his hands on his hips and letting his eyes wander while he thinks. "Let's see let's see... silk, I know that one's definitely safe, tangled in many a silk sheet in my higher-profile days. Cotton's good too, basically anything with a higher thread count so the fibres don't start chafing too much."

    "Clothes?" you ask.

    "Hm? Oh, ah- no I'm fine," he replies after a moment's hesitation. "If you're worried about the climate it hasn't bothered me yet, I'm meant to be walking around in basically nothing by design so my insane core temp keeps me comfortable in pretty much anything but an active snowstorm." You actually hadn't thought about the climate, never noticing it yourself, but thankfully Belial keeps talking to cover your misstep. "Besides, making up whatever outfit you feel like flaunting at the time is another pretty basic incubus trick."

    He brandishes his tar-gloved hand for emphasis again.

    "Sounds like a pretty nifty trick," you observe. "But... if your food is what fuels your magic, isn't that pretty wasteful?"

    Belial grimaces slightly. "Pretty much, yeah. A lot of stuff that seems sexy and fun in the spur of the moment winds up turning into a profit-loss value assessment once you've got some years under your belt which uh... can kill the mood a bit. I've pretty much stopped bothering for obvious reasons." He shrugs. "And I don't really feel like fucking everyone else one by one just for the sake of recharging my batteries."

    "I wasn't... expecting you to," you say haltingly, furrowing your brow. "I'm confused, do you want me to pick you up some clothes along with whatever else next time I'm in town or don't you?"

    "I'm saying I don't mind either way!" Belial reassures you, patting at the air with one hand as if to calm you. "Really, I'm sanguine. I'm sure you'll have enough high-maintenance work cut out for you with Makram once you cut him in on this, you don't need to worry about me adding to that."

    "Excuse you! I am Eldingar, The Azure Bolt That Splits The Sky and master of this spire, and I shall decide what I do or don't concern myself with!" you proclaim with a grumpy frown. "Naught for you but the finest silks and softest cottons for bedspreads and maybe a few throw pillows and a reading nook and- and I should actually ask, what do you want for your room, I need to know for when I bring the contractors back for another pass."

    Belial makes an ambiguous noise, the corners of his mouth stretching down towards his jaw as he sucks his teeth. "That's a hard one. I've never really had my own space like this before, it's a bit overwhelming." He taps his talons against his jaw, no doubt bringing up a mental map of the room he recently left. "Probably... what kind of budget are we talking?"

    "Nothing but the absolute finest for my abode!" you declare.

    "Haha, alright alright Mister Showoff," he teases. "I waaaaant... a room that's just soft in general, I think. You joked about throw pillows but that's a great idea, just carpets and throw pillows festooned about the place so there's no end to places for people to lie down. And yeah the nook idea doesn't sound too bad, somewhere cosy to hole up in and hobby an afternoon away."

    "Oh?" you ask. "Already have things in mind?"

    "Ah, yes, I ah..." he plays with his ponytail as if needing something to do with his hands. "I've dabbled in art, on and off. Very useful to have in my line of work, like dance - picked things up from frustrated artists needing a muse, that sort of thing. And reading of course."

    Clothes, art supplies, books, the mental list gets longer but you aren't worried. Material gifts? Easy-peasy, even if all seven of your boyfriends asked for three or four things you'd be able to keep it straight no problem.

    "Oh and a window," he adds, practically blurting it out.

    "... we're underground."

    He reaches over and raps his knuckles against your forehead again, bonk bonk. "A magic window, silly. The kind I'm sure Abzu could whip up no problem. I didn't just forget we're a couple metres underground."

    "I knew you knew that," you grumble, wiggling your hand to ward away his. "But you should probably specify, a window or a portal? Because the former doesn't come with any fresh air and the latter may cause a few security problems."

    "Oh no, no just a window is fine," he replies. He scratches the back of his neck, averting his eyes for a moment as if deep in thought. "Just being able to look is all I want. I really like this plane. I'd just like to see more of it, is all."

    "Got it. All entirely doable! Anything is possible with a dragon of my refinement and resources on your side." You turn side-on and 'idly' inspect your talons, subtly flexing as you do. You glance out of the corner of your eye to check if Belial is suitably impressed. He's not swooning to quite the degree you would have liked, but he is smiling which is more than enough because honestly the way Belial smiles makes you feel funny deep in your stomach and your knees go all week and a-ahem

    "Hey, Eldingar?" he asks.

    "Mm?" You lean over slightly to listen.

    Belial leans in and kisses you. It's similar to your first but not quite - you realise what he's doing a few instants before contact and you let it happen, your body instinctively relaxing at the prospect of feeling the warmth of his soft black lips against yours again. You let out a soft "(mmf)" into the kiss, eyelids fluttering as he cradles your angular jaw in one hand. There's a rather louder scccrape of talons on stone as you find yourself popping one foot up behind you, but thankfully Belial manages to ignore it. He lets it go on a few blissful moments more before gently breaking it, letting his claws linger beneath your chin as holds you gaze almost nose-to-nose.

    "You can be a real sweetheart, you know," he says with a smile.

    "I-I will hear no such slander!" you protest.

    "You're a sweeetheeeeart~" he singsongs.

    "mnnooooohhh" you eloquently argue.

    "Alright alright, you're a viciously covetous bastard with a heart of stone that loves only gold~" he croons.

    "That's better."

    He snickers, finally releasing you and rocking his weight back onto his clawed heels. "I'll let you go now, if that's okay. I think we said a lot of stuff that was important to say and... thank you, too. I'm really glad we talked."

    "I'm... glad we spoke als- wait one more thing," you say suddenly, cutting yourself off. "Just one more very last thing about the ah, the polyamory. As I'm expecting two more people to arrive in the next few days, do you think it would be best to get everyone up to speed on the idea first and then bring Lyrros and Datu into it as they come, or just wait and do it all at once?"

    Belial scritches his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. I think... in general wait until everyone's here and lay it all out to the whole group, but if it naturally comes up in conversation one-on-one you shouldn't talk around it. Just tell whoever it is, explain everything we've discussed. Sound good?"

    "Exquisite!" you agree, flashing a double thumbs-up. Then you realise what you've done and tuck your damn thumb-talons away immediately, hands snapping to your sides. Your eyes dart left and right as you realise in a panic you ruined your first chance to naturally exit the conversation. "I will ah... see you around then?"

    "See you around," Belial replies casually, letting you off the hook for your weird trip and stumble. You head through the door and into the hall again, pausing halfway through shutting the door again to leave it open for Belial to pass. He smiles at you over his shoulder and strolls down the corridor back to his room, slender arrowhead-tipped tail coquettishly swishing back and forth over a rear that is, to be frank, completely on display. You have to clear your throat and look at the ceiling just to keep from staring - honestly every time his heels strike the ground the shock runs all the way up his legs to make his ass pop up, right-left right-left in a hypnotic rhythm, and you know that's no accident.

    When you finally lower your gaze you notice Belial paused at the end of the hall, one foot through his door and one hand resting on the frame. He's smiling, not at you but to himself. And then he's gone, disappearing into the room and shutting the door behind him.

    You're smiling a little too. It's shameful and you're exceedingly glad nobody's around to witness your shame.

    In any case, you should still have plenty of time. Whom else should you grace with your presence and company?

    [ ] Jun-ho. He might be a bit more up for company now that you've let him sleep in.
    [ ] Makram. Technically the very first, and you've finally replaced what he made you lose - maybe it's the right time to reconcile? Even if he is an irredeemable bastard.
    [ ] Issachar. He said he has a farm in the countryside not far from here so he probably won't be in his room - but then again he'll probably just materialise out of thin air behind you once you decide to look for him.
    [ ] Abzu. Probably the most overtly interested in a relationship with you besides Belial, they might be just the kind of low-risk practice you need. But then again who knows what goes through that weird wizard's head.
    [ ] Group bonding (cooking class). Now that you've resolved to make this polyamorous, this idea has even more utility beyond just getting to see Makram try to put his money where his mouth is about the feastmaking thing.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 2, 2018 at 8:17 AM, finished with 2840 posts and 32 votes.
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Thirty-Nine: This May Be The First Time You've Had A Semi-Non-Confrontational Interaction With Makram And It Feels Distinctly Unnatural
  • View content
    • Makram.

    ... Mmmmmmaaaaakkkkrrrraaaammmmmmm.

    To say how you feel about him is 'complicated' would be an insult to the word. When you really think about it it's his fault you're even in this mess. You didn't even want it to be a djinn when you went pawing through your hoard and found his lamp! You just wanted to find something small and valuable inside, like a magic ring, or a compartment stuffed full of platinum, or the cure for scale-itch. Instead you had to find a golden squatter with an ego that doesn't belong in anything that isn't a dragon who blew up your gold. But... also fought to save it from Takara, based on what you've gathered of the fight that occurred while you were away. And the map still seemed to think you and he had a chance even before that. And Belial told you you have to talk to everyone, like a person, and even though the thought is as viscerally discomforting as having a fang pulled you know you have to do it.

    First order of business - where the fuck is he? Answer: potentially anywhere, given his willingness to teleport at the drop of a hat. But what he also has is a body that's only being magically projected by his lamp, albeit at the kind of breathtaking power and fidelity to be expected of a precursor artefact, and you know where the lamp is. Glad to find something is actually easy for once, you head back upstairs to the main cavern - Jun-ho seeming to have gone out while you were speaking with Belial - and head to your treasurepile to retrieve the lamp.

    That is, you reach the treasurepile and the temptation grows too strong. So you bellyflop on top of it instead, expanding to your true quadrupedal form mid-jump, and squirm into a you-shaped divot with a happy little sigh, all five limbs splayed out limp over the shaped golden surface. You deserve this. You've earned this. In fact, you need this, because the better a mood you're in to face Makram the better. You idly rake your claws through the treasure, only to hit ceramics instead of gold. Brow furrowing, you dig it out, only to discover the earthenware jug you bought back in Söfnun all those days ago. Hah, it was even your secret weapon to put the ifrit down when he was at his most uppity.

    "... Mayonnaise," you say.

    The jar rumbles ominously.

    You roll over onto your side, keeping your injured wing out of the way, carefully pinch the jug between two talontips, and hold it high above your open maw. Gently gently, working at the stopper with another talon- there!

    A high-pressure jet of creamy, eggy condiment goes shooting onto your tongue. You hold it aloft until the stream stops, shaking out the last drops, before carefully setting it back down and rolling your tongue around in your mouth to appreciate the flavour. You're a disgusting garbage dragon and you love it. You relax deeper into your treasurepile with a happy sigh, idly scratching under one foreleg with a sound like someone gashing at a shield with a massive set of shears.

    But at last you can put it off no longer. With some degree of reluctance you shrink back down, skating down the side of your treasurepile on your ass like a glittering golden snowbank to go searching for the lamp in earnest. You still haven't had time to properly re-sort everything so you know where it is, but even this is soothing in a sort of mind-numbing way. It seems like no time at all has passed when you do finally dig the hard-edged thing out of the golden mass and hold it aloft by the chain.

    Uh... hrm. You don't... actually know the first thing about how this works, it didn't exactly come with an owner's manual. You tilt your head this way and that, curling your neck around for an almost 360-degree scan. The little door is still open, and opening that to initially let him out has been the full extent of your interactions with it so far. You peer through said little door and notice that the innards mostly seem to be some kind of crystal, somewhat like what you've seen making up the internal systems to constructs. Albeit this, like all precursor artefacts, is far more advanced. You can tell the difference in quality by the smell of the magic alone, like comparing a fine vintage to the cheap swill you drink by the bottle in the same street you bought it. The crystal is gold of course, the ifrit seems to have a theme going (a very good theme that speaks to good taste and a deeper understanding of aesthetics and culture), and glows with its own inner light.

    "(I... er... should-)" you mutter to yourself, free hand hovering around the lamp from this angle and that, searching for some sign of how to summon Makram. You're beginning to think your master plan isn't so masterful. You seem to recall something about rubbing? But you heard that was for initially summoning the djinn, and you did that just fine by opening the little door. Should you just shut that and reopen it? What if you trap him back in his lamp unexpectedly? Even if it's just for a second that'll definitely start things off on the wrong foot. Eventually you decide to just run one talon down the side of the lamp and hope for the best.

    A thin trail of golden light follows your talontip, a soft musical keening filtering through the lamp housing in response. A swirl of golden sand flows from the crystal within, looping through the air and spinning itself into a shining dust-devil suspended in the air before you. Onward and onward it swirls, for just long enough that you begin to wonder if you're supposed to be doing something else, before all of a sudden Makram materialises with a fwoosh of heat and light. He's astride his cloud of course, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded and scowling.

    "I was sunbathing," he says.

    "... in this weather?" you ask.

    "Yes," he replies testily, in much the same tone one would use when caught eating stale bread when there was nothing else in the pantry anyway. You purse your lips. This is going very poorly already, but there's still time to save it.

    "Iiiiiii... aaaaapologise," you say slowly, forcing the unfamiliar words past your lips. "I was trying to find you but I didn't know how without the lamp." Speaking of which, you set the offending artefact down gently on the side of the treasurepile.

    "Hm. I see." He looks down at you, luminous golden eyes haughtily inspecting you. "Well then."

    He shifts smoothly on his cloud, rotating and reclining until he's in what seems to be his favourite pose - lying on his side like a magazine centrefold, cheek against his knuckles, regarding you with vaguely condescending amusement.

    "And just when I was thinking I was forgotten, my lamp perhaps fallen to the bottom of the pile as your newer treasures took its place," he says loftily. "Is it for your wishes, my master? You do still have two left~"

    You grimace. Belial's relationship sensitivity training must be working because even your dulled interpersonal senses are picking up some rather ugly undertones. Well... this would be the place to put it into practice, wouldn't it? You take a long, slow breath.

    "I only wanted to talk," you say. "I recognise now, based on recent developments, that we... mmmmay have... gotten off on the wrong foot, when we first met. I suppose this is me requesting that we start over, you and I. Speak frankly, with a clean slate."

    One eyebrow slowly, slowly rises in complete incredulity. Makram's gaze is suspicious, wary almost. Scrutinising you intently for any sign of deception, of any falsehood in your halting words.

    "A clean slate, you say?" he repeats. "I should think this slate would be very hard to clean. After all, there are so many other slates for you to concern yourself with. If you intend to placate me in preparation for establishing your harem in an official capacity you should really just come right out and say it, it would save the two of us so much bother."

    Right. Well, you really can't say you're surprised. The way Makram seems to crave attention, even if it's just you reacting to his barbs, there was no way he wouldn't jump to that conclusion. Time to take Belial's advice again. You take one more breath, suppressing the internal screaming, and speak.

    "It's not a harem," you reply. "In truth at first it wasn't intended to be anything. Recently I've been reconsidering my stance on all this, how I feel about all of you, based on the map that Abzu so kindly demystified for us. I spoke with Belial about how to make things work and while I await the arrival of the final two to make this statement in an 'official' capacity, to all assembled, I intend a- uh... a polyamorous relationship." You stumble a bit as it comes time to say it out loud but you forge on ahead quickly. "Hence wanting to ah, start over. If the map singled you out then I intend to try and treat you more like a boyfriend than a nuisance, and you should feel free to do the same for anyone and everyone else in the lair. I don't intend to have you at my beck and call."

    Makram takes his hand away from his face. He leaves it hovering, halfway to resting on the cloud, supporting himself on his elbow as he stares at you. The silence lingers and stretches on, unbroken. His molten-gold 'tattoos' seem to pulse gently, their inner light waxing and waning. You awkwardly shift your weight from foot to foot, in no hurry to speak first and jeopardise it all. At last, at long last, Makram moves again. He straightens up properly, the golden dust shifting and supporting him as he instead sits cross-legged in mid-air, hands resting on his knees.

    "Very well then," he says. "If that is to be the case, then I suppose I can permit this... unpleasantness between us to be swept aside. If you have questions then you may ask them, and I may even answer them should the mood take me."

    Spending time with Makram is like a cornucopia of bizarre and bewildering powerplay, but you figure you've already pushed your luck enough and decide to leave that alone for now. Instead you rack your brain for things to inquire about - what is it that's most important to ask Makram in this rare moment of (relative) civility?

    [ ] Ask about the whole 'wishes' situation. How do they actually work? What can or can't he do in pursuit of granting them? How do they meaningfully differ from his own inherent powers he seems quite happy to use at the drop of a hat?
    [ ] Ask about djinn. How they're created, what the particulars of their longevity are, why they're bound to lamps, what their purpose is. With your chance meeting with the marid in the risen temple, you're especially curious.
    [ ] Ask if he's had any previous partners he's willing to talk about, if he has anything to volunteer about said experiences that might be helpful to you.
    [ ] Ask how things have been going with the others so far. Who does he like the most, who does he like the least? If it's going to be poly, whether or not the others actually like each other is more important than ever.
    [ ] Ask how you can best make him comfortable. While it's hardly an immediate priority for him like it was for Belial, both due to the lack of hypersensitivity and the fact that his body isn't strictly speaking 'real' anyway, he may at least appreciate the gesture. And hey, you never know.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 7, 2018 at 6:23 AM, finished with 2878 posts and 28 votes.
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Forty: It's Not Gossip, It's Crucial Communication And Mutual Understanding With A View To Inter-Relationship Networking
  • View content
    • "So how is it you've been getting on with the others?" you ask. "Part of the arrangement is that we all be able to get on with everyone else, so... best you tell me everything you have to say, for good or ill, so we can discuss it and work on it. Does that sound alright?"

    Look at you, being all open and honest and mature. If Belial were here no doubt he'd be patting you on the back and telling you what a magnificent dragon you are, just the wisest and most handsome dragon ever and oh look you must have freshly polished your scales because you look magnificent. And you'd smile and preen and tell him that it's- wait you should be paying attention to Makram.

    Thankfully, Makram needs a significant wind-up time to be candid. He rolls over on his cloud, lying on his belly as if balanced on a levitating translucent pillow, stretched out as far as his body will go from fingertip to toetip, flexing and kneading his golden talons against the empty air. A flicker of light runs through the patterns of molten gold and he sighs heavily.

    "The eastern one, Jun-ho," he says grumpily. "He can be overly outgoing and he has little sense of personal space. However as I was being sadly neglected by my rightful Master at the time I was forced to spend extended periods of time with him, entertaining myself by educating him on various matters. If he has one virtue it is that he is an excellent listener, and perhaps one day soon he will finally ask no stupid questions at all. What a day that shall be."

    "Jun-ho can be a little-"

    "But he does have the appropriate level of awe," Makram continues suddenly, cutting you off. You scowl at him but he doesn't even look your way. "Yes, he is an earnest sort through and through. Endlessly fascinated by one such as I, my vast powers and my storied history and my many, many talents. Were my Master to order me to choose a favourite, well, I would find myself forced to say that Jun-ho is the one."

    "Aha!" you say, buoyed hard and early. "Good, good, excellent to hear. Jun-ho does seem to be the most personable of the group so far - he asked to come with me last night out of a desire to meet new people marked on the map, and seemed to form a rapport with Datu very-"

    "Shall I have to suffer through your interjections every time?" Makram asks in a long-suffering tone. You frown at him in reply, but after a long moment you force yourself to soften. He does have a slight point - at this stage it's best if you just let him talk uninterrupted.

    "Not at all. Proceed."

    "Mmmmverywellllll," he sighs rolling onto his side and languidly stretching out even further. He bends one leg at the knee, the other danging freely from the edge of the cloud. "Mrgh. The incubus. Belli-something. In our first meeting he was overly familiar, presumed to know too much about me and my kind. I rebuked him of course, and ever since I suspect he has been avoiding me."

    You almost interject again, but catch yourself at the last second. Listen, you're supposed to be quiet and listen right now. It's awful, how do people do this all the time?

    "Issachar," Makram says, "now he is just infuriating. The way he seems to just appear and disappear at will I swear he could be another djinn in disguise, but whenever I demand answers from him he studiously deflects my questions with some reversal or another."

    "I know right!?" you blurt out. "He thinks he's slick, pretending to be some ordinary human when you can tell from meeting him let alone spending time with him that he's obviously not."

    "Perhaps his disguise is not quite as good as he thinks it is," Makram remarks.

    "No no, I think he knows we know. It's all part of his thing," you reply. "You should have seen him when we were alone together at Lyrros' mansion -he's one of the new people, should be turning up any day now-. It got absolutely pitch-black, no way a human could see through it, but he just kept up with me and didn't even mention it! Who does that!?"

    "At this point to just ask would be an admission of defeat, wouldn't it?"

    "Yes! Exactly, I thought I was the only one!"

    "Mm," Makram says ambiguously, as if realising he accidentally connected with you and trying desperately to think of a way to run that back. Eventually he decides to move past it. "But he does make adequate banana bread so I suppose he can be allowed to stay. Even if I could make some of equal or greater quality. With less."

    "Mm," you say in an almost identical tone. A brief pause, a hairline fracture in the conversation, as you pluck the forgotten name out of the blue. "And Abzu? I haven't had the chance to keep myself much appraised of their movements, but whether or not you've had the chance to see them again you were there when ah-"

    makram laughing every last scrap of air from his lungs, clearly in pain but unable to stop

    "-we met," you finish with an almost imperceptible shudder. "How do you feel about them?"

    Makram ponders the question. He rolls over again, one end of the cloud curling up, the lower-middle cresting like a wave, supporting his head and knees like a shaped couch of glittering sand. He elegantly laces his fingers together behind his head, crossing one leg lazily over the other, raised foot bobbing slightly as he thinks.

    "Watch that one carefully," he says at last.

    You blink. You even double-take, as if the second time you look at Makram you'll find him flashing you one of his shit-eating grins. But no, he seems completely serious. You furrow your brow. "I don't understand," you reply. "Short of Jun-ho, Abzu seemed the least-objectionable of all the people the map's pointed me to."

    "They're easily the most personable one, on that we can agree," Makram says, "but they have their own priorities, their own secrets. They are a wizard after all. I find myself wondering how much they would value this relationship in comparison to their original goals, that's all."

    You lower your gaze, thinking on his words for a moment. It's not just sniping. The tone is all wrong. You still get the vague sense that Makram isn't telling you everything, but by the same token what he is telling you feels like the truth.

    Makram shrugs. "Take that however you will. If the possibility does not bother you, then this little experiment of yours may proceed as planned. If it does, well, there is nothing stopping you from simply taking them aside and asking. They seem forthright enough."

    "I see," you say. "Well... I certainly feel like this has been very constructive, so perhaps that's a good sign! Is there anything else you wish to discuss? Perhaps we can work out a way I could find you in the future without having to abduct you via lamp? You could pick a spare room if you haven't already!"

    "An entire room? All to the likes of me?" Makram replies, faux-astonished, one hand resting delicately against his chest. "My my but you are being so wastefully generous. I am a djinn after all, Master. All the accommodation and comfort a dutiful servant like me requires is mine when I return to the crystal within my lamp. Surely the space would be better spent on others more deserving?"

    You grimace. Why does he always have to be like this.

    "Well I told the contractors to make a lot of spare rooms while they were here just in case, so..." you waggle your claw vaguely. "If you do decide on one, tell me so I know where to find you. Once my wing heals and I can go back into town I'll be buying personalised furnishings and the like for everyone, so if you want to be a part of that, you know what to do."

    He acts like he's barely interested, extending one arm to check for some imaginary dirt on his golden claws. Turning his hand this way and that, inspecting the shine of his lustrous molten markings as if they were even slightly duller than when he first appeared. You mean, yes, preening is extremely important and it's a sign of Makram's excellent priorities that he would place so much emphasis on it but still there's a time and a place. You wait a few moments longer just in case he has anything else to say.

    "I'm not keeping you, am I?" he asks airily, talontips lightly scraping at the near-solid band of molten gold around his throat. "If you wish to let your wing recover swiftly you might want to consider an early night."

    "Well... yes. I should do that. Was. Planning on doing that. Entirely independent of your advice. All you did was remind me." You turn and stride towards your hoard rather than live with your halting mess of a reply any longer than you have to, only to pause halfway. What's the boyfriend thing to do? You should really practice that. Uh... "Goodnight, Makram?"

    "Goodnight, Master. Do keep in mind through the night that I am always available to service any need or desire you may wish me to fulfil~"

    You scowl at him as deeply as it is possible for one dragon to scowl, stomping your way up the side of the golden sand-dune that is your hoard and bellyflopping down atop the pile like an incensed seal, violently ballooning out into your true form with a whumpf of displaced air. The wave washes over Makram, succeeding only in nudging him away and tousling his hair. He rakes it back into place with a single smooth motion, snickering all the while. You angrily huff out twin jets of hot breath from your nose and wiggle into a more comfortable position, kneading your gold into proper order as you resolutely shut your eyes and wait for Makram to go away. Or to fall asleep, whichever comes first.

    You think it was 'fall asleep' because the next thing you know you're having your favourite dream, lying comfortably atop a pile of gold so staggeringly high that even you can't see the bottom, the very sky around you shining with a warm golden light. You wiggle happily, tail swaying back and forth like the gargantuan scaly flail that it is, giving serious consideration to leaping forward and letting yourself sliiiiiiide down to whatever bottom there may be in a torrential avalanche of treasure. Only to blink and see Belial there again, a splash of scarlet and sable amid the gold.

    "Yyyyyes?" you ask.

    "Sorry to uh, to bother you again," he says, trying to find a comfortable position facing you on the shifting semi-treacherous slope of treasure. The way he endures the various pointy bits and edges digging into his skin, he seems to be free of his hypersensitivity in the dream world. "This is the last time I show up in one of your dreams uninvited, I promise. Like I said it's honestly pretty novel to have a real bed, hah. But anyway. I just... wanted to drop in and say I'm proud of you."

    " 'Proud of me'?" you repeat incredulously.

    "Well... yeah?" he replies. "C'mon, you remember what it was like the other day. You have trouble communicating with people and being honest about how you feel. That doesn't make you weak or inferior it just, dunno. Makes me happy to see you trying to act counter to that based on what I said. Like I helped."

    You extend one massive claw, talons splayed, its shadow passing over Belial like a looming mountain.

    "Uh wait-"

    "Shush."

    You bring it down, talons curling down and around, raking through the gold as you drag him up to the peak with you as if he were no more than a toy, pressing him against your collarbone region and packing him in with coins. He's left submerged in treasure to the waist, back pressed against your shield-like scales, stunned and bewildered.

    "There," you say. "Much better."

    "You really are a secret sweetheart," he says.

    "And this is a dream," you retort. "So no one will ever believe you."

    You awaken the next morning refreshed, which is a first. Your wing still aches a little but the pain has noticeably decreased - it's duller, easier to ignore, easier to get a bit more adventurous with its range of movement. You streeeeeeetch out with all five limbs, neck extending as far as it will go, letting out an almighty yawn all the while. Talons idly raaaaking across the stone beneath you, beginning to gouge fresh furrows in the recently-resurfaced floor out of habit, terrifying carnivorous maw open so wide that you could count every single fang in there. You flop down limp again, smacking your lips, and crack open your eyes.

    To find... everybody gathered in a semicircle in front of you? You blink a few times, wondering if this is still a dream.

    "Oh, you're up!" Jun-ho, in his bipedal form, says brightly. He turns and cups a claw at the end of his snout. "Now's good!" he calls through the door.

    "Now for wh-?" you ask.

    The great doors burst open in a sudden explosion of movement, tendrils of writhing shadow washing over the iron-banded wood and splashing across the stone like oil slicks as a figure strides purposefully across the threshold. A very familiar grey-skinned chest greets you, albeit slightly more covered up than the last time you saw it. Lyrros' long coat billows dramatically behind him in an unnatural wind, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. He holds his arms out wide to bask in the attention from all assembled onlookers, a silver-chased black leather suitcase dangling from one gloved hand. You notice he's even thrown on a charcoal-grey scarf, the twin tails long enough to dance in the wind with his silky raven-black hair. Honestly with even the thin strip of skin between his collarbone and chin covered up it makes his bare chest all the more prominent, you wonder how anyone who saw him on the way here got anything done that day.

    At last Lyrros comes to a definitive stop, the crack of his heels striking the stone echoing all throughout the cavern. He flicks his head sharply, sending his hair into one more spiral, and slowly raises one hand to pinch the side of his sunglasses between his gloved claws and pull them free.

    "Still your hearts," he said. "For I have come."

    He throws his suitcase down flat on the floor and steps on it. "And I brought luggage."

    The impact sends the buckles flying open with twin metallic clunks, Lyrros easing off the pressure only slightly to allow it to simply spring open of its own accord. What lies within is naught but a swirling vortex into a seemingly endless pit of shadows from which you swear you can hear the soft screams of the damned emerge. Lyrros stomps the lid back down, the buckles fastening themselves once more with a synchronous click.

    "So, tell me everything," he says, tucking the folded arm of his sunglasses into his scarf for safekeeping as he scans the room. "Who is everyone, where shall I be staying, what are the accomodations like, what purchases will I have to make myself, and please; feel free to question me in kind. It's only natural to require explanation for"

    He gestures in an all-encompassing fashion at himself.

    "this."

    You blink. Jun-ho is clapping, and you think Abzu is praising him but with the sign turned away from you it's anyone's guess what they're saying. Makram is curled up haughtily on his cloud in his usual fashion. Issachar stands beside him, arms folded and even with his back turned you can feel the knowing amusement radiating off of him like the heat from a fire - you suspect Lyrros' schtick will work on him about as well as anybody else's does. Belial, conversely, is off to the side scratching the back of his neck. You stretch one more time and crawl down from the peak of your pile, rising to your hind legs as you change and sidling your way into the middle of the gathered gaggle of boyfriends (and other).

    "Ahhh, Eldingar!" Lyrros says broadly, flashing you a saucy grin. "The main event himself. How long has it been? Two days? Three? How time flies - but at last I have returned to you, ready to take my rightful place and make your humble abode so much less so."

    You object strongly to calling your abode 'humble' in any capacity, but that's just a Thing mortals do all the time so you bite back the urge to scream EXCUSE YOU and focus on the rest.

    "Wonderful to see you again Lyrros," you say. "This is Makram, Jun-ho, Issachar, Belial and Abzu - they appeared on the map just like you, and they're living here too for -well not Abzu they still live at their tower but they teleport over- for the foreseeable future."

    "Ah yes, the fabled map!" Lyrros claps his hands together. "Where is it? I should so like to see it for myself."

    "mnehehyeahthat'sgonnabeaproblem so let's get this dialogue going shall we?" you say quickly, glancing left, right and left again along the line of assembled boyfriends (and other). "Anyone have any questions, comments, things to volunteer?"

    "How's your head?" Issachar asks. You want to slap your hand over your face.

    "Filled with songs and wonder at how the world has changed these past hundred years," Lyrros replies. "Delighted the tastebuds of any of your fellows here yet, chef?"

    "The kitchen here needs more setup but I've brought things from my house a few times," Issachar shoots right back.

    "Ahhhhh. Then you should know that I hunger for only the finest of meals," Lyrros says, smooth as a serpent. You don't know if this is some kind of strange food-based flirting but if it is it's incredibly discomforting and you want it to stop.

    "So are you human like Issachar?" Jun-ho asks, to an audible 'snrk' from most of the others (which you swear includes Issachar). "I just wanted to ask, since I don't know much about the people here and don't want to assume."

    "No no, an excellent question," Lyrros says, patting at the air in Jun-ho's direction. "Even I do not truly know the name of what I have become. You see I have been cursed, sired by a monster and forced to persist in this achingly beautiful predator's form for time immemorial - I was only recently freed from my prison of stone by the handsome Eldingar, freed to travel the land and come here, where I shall no doubt see yet more wonderous sights~"

    Makram laughs. Lyrros slooooowly shifts his gaze over, locking the ifrit dead in his sights.

    "Does something amuse you, my golden friend?" Lyrros asks.

    "Many things do," Makram replies. "But currently what amuses me most is the sheer energy and dedication with which your hurl yourself into this performative facade. I find myself wondering - do you ever allow yourself a moment to breathe without involving enough ham to shock a swineherd, or is this passion-play a special occasion for our benefit?"

    Lyrros shifts his weight back on his heel, crossing one arm over his chest as the other hand cups his chin. Regarding the ifrit with a soft 'hm'. "Ahhhh. I see," he says knowingly. "Methinks the djinn doth protest too much. Is it feeling threatened, perhaps? The proud spirit soon to be outclassed in both service and entertainment?"

    "You think yourself a musician, boy?" Makram retorts, only the barest pressure emphasising the final word, a promise of the full weight of age and experience he could bring down on Lyrros like a mace should he so choose. "I could do the work of a thousand without a breath of effort."

    "But can you compose?"

    "Can you?"

    Lyrros chuckles. Makram projects an air of distant, condescending amusement. The air between them is so thick with tension you're not entirely sure if they're about to start throwing claws or passionately kissing.

    Eventually Lyrros realises, at roughly the same speed you do, that Abzu is jumping up and down waving a sign to try and grab his attention. He seems briefly nonplussed, lips parting slightly as he no doubt thinks to ask about their muteness before reconsidering. You crane your neck to get a look at the sign from a better angle.

    [Tell me more about the curse you mentioned!] Abzu has written in large, friendly letters. They swap signs with blinding speed. [I've never seen anyone like you in any of my materials.] [Are you undead?] [Do you breathe?] [Do you eat?] [Do you sleep?] [Actually can you even still have sex?] [I wouldn't ask normally but] [Well it's kinda relevant right now.] [Can I take some of your blood?]

    Lyrros blinks a few times, a hairline crease of confusion forming in his brow. He clears his throat and recovers. "I presume so. Yes. Yes but I have no need to. Yes. Emphatically yes. No."

    [Awww just a little bit!] [I promise it won't hurt!]

    "Um," Jun-ho says, his hand raised. Lyrros turns to look at him. Jun-ho looks at his own raised hand and quickly lowers it in embarrassment. "I just wanted to say that you look really pretty and I don't know how you do it and I'm jealous."

    Lyrros smiles a wide, sensual smile, baring a sliver of pale fangs. "These are all natural reactions to me, my dear Jun-ho~" he replies. "When it comes to my impossible beauty and animal magnetism that shines with a darkness that overwhelms even light itself, there are three key things;" He counts them off on his claws. "Confidence. Preparation. And being able to command the living shadow to take whatever shapes I desire."

    Jun-ho nods with an earnest look on his face, as if he were seriously taking mental note of this.

    [What's this about shadow-shaping!?] [I need to know more!] [You can't just drop that and not elaborate!] Abzu is hopping up and down frantically, waving signs in both hands for emphasis. [Tell meeeeeeee!]

    "Please, please, boys and other, one at a time!" Lyrros laughs.

    "That doesn't sound like something you'd say," Issachar remarks.

    Lyrros clicks his fingers. "A-haaaa this one, he's a clever one this one."

    "I read. It comes with the territory."

    Well this seems to be going relatively well, but past a certain point you feel even Lyrros is going to have a hard time dealing with all the boyfriends (and other) talking to him at once. You should find a natural interjection point to lighten the load somewhat, whisk someone away from the introductory free-for-all to let things calm down a little. Letting everyone fight for attention feels a bit antithetical to the end-goal.

    [ ] Offer to show Lyrros to his room. What better way to defuse the situation than abducting the focal point? Besides, it gives you an excuse to chat with him one-on-one and explain the situation.
    [ ] Pull Makram away. You just got done speaking to him yesterday, true, but you can already tell he and Lyrros are going to be butting heads like rams from now until the end of time unless you do something. Maybe some time alone will help crack whatever it is that's driving his acting out?
    [ ] Pull Jun-ho away. You have a great deal of very important and very dragony things to speak with him about... and, alright, you're starting to feel a bit jealous after watching him swoon over Datu and Lyrros so openly. Maybe some time alone to thank him for flying you back from the temple will help assuage your insecurities there.
    [ ] Pull Belial away. He hasn't said a word yet, not has Lyrros acknowledged his presence. Sure the flamboyant performer has a great deal on his plate right now, but that can't feel good, especially based on what Belial's told you. Maybe some time alone can help him bounce back.
    [ ] Pull Issachar away. He certainly seems to have the measure of Lyrros, thanks to accompanying you to the initial meeting at all. Removing him from the situation may give the others more room to get to know him, and with some time alone perhaps you can get a little advice?
    [ ] Pull Abzu away. You get the feeling their analytical mind is the wrong kind of attention Lyrros craves, a feeling that's all the stronger thanks to the conversation you had with Makram just last night. Perhaps now's the time to really get into a talk with them, lay down some ground rules, work out just what their movements and plans are.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 9, 2018 at 1:34 PM, finished with 2921 posts and 27 votes.
    • [X] Pull Abzu away. You get the feeling their analytical mind is the wrong kind of attention Lyrros craves, a feeling that's all the stronger thanks to the conversation you had with Makram just last night. Perhaps now's the time to really get into a talk with them, lay down some ground rules, work out just what their movements and plans are.
      [X] Offer to show Lyrros to his room. What better way to defuse the situation than abducting the focal point? Besides, it gives you an excuse to chat with him one-on-one and explain the situation.
      [X] Pull Issachar away. He certainly seems to have the measure of Lyrros, thanks to accompanying you to the initial meeting at all. Removing him from the situation may give the others more room to get to know him, and with some time alone perhaps you can get a little advice?
      [X] Pull Makram away. You just got done speaking to him yesterday, true, but you can already tell he and Lyrros are going to be butting heads like rams from now until the end of time unless you do something. Maybe some time alone will help crack whatever it is that's driving his acting out?
      [X] Pull Jun-ho away. You have a great deal of very important and very dragony things to speak with him about... and, alright, you're starting to feel a bit jealous after watching him swoon over Datu and Lyrros so openly. Maybe some time alone to thank him for flying you back from the temple will help assuage your insecurities there.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 12, 2018 at 7:22 PM, finished with 2924 posts and 28 votes.
    • [X] Pull Abzu away. You get the feeling their analytical mind is the wrong kind of attention Lyrros craves, a feeling that's all the stronger thanks to the conversation you had with Makram just last night. Perhaps now's the time to really get into a talk with them, lay down some ground rules, work out just what their movements and plans are.
      [X] Offer to show Lyrros to his room. What better way to defuse the situation than abducting the focal point? Besides, it gives you an excuse to chat with him one-on-one and explain the situation.
      [X] Pull Issachar away. He certainly seems to have the measure of Lyrros, thanks to accompanying you to the initial meeting at all. Removing him from the situation may give the others more room to get to know him, and with some time alone perhaps you can get a little advice?
      [X] Pull Makram away. You just got done speaking to him yesterday, true, but you can already tell he and Lyrros are going to be butting heads like rams from now until the end of time unless you do something. Maybe some time alone will help crack whatever it is that's driving his acting out?
      [X] Pull Jun-ho away. You have a great deal of very important and very dragony things to speak with him about... and, alright, you're starting to feel a bit jealous after watching him swoon over Datu and Lyrros so openly. Maybe some time alone to thank him for flying you back from the temple will help assuage your insecurities there.
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Forty-One: Who Could Have Expected The Mute Wizard Of Ambiguously-Defined Form And No Gender To Be The Most Normal One?
  • View content
    • "Abzu!" you say suddenly, a little louder than you intended but you can roll with that. They turn to look and you press the advantage, hurrying over to their side and angling your body to interpose yourself between them and Lyrros. "I'm glad to finally catch you, there are certain things we should really iron out in private sooner rather than later."

    [Aww, can't it be a little later?] Abzu asks, hopping up and down to try and see past you - they're something like a foot shorter than you and you can't deny how adorable it- no focus. [I'll only be a minute!]

    "It will only take a moment and it really is quite urgent!" you insist, half-lying through your teeth with aplomb. Abzu cranes their neck to take one more glance around your body. Issachar and Lyrros seem to have launched into some sort of spirited debate about spices behind you.

    [Alright, I am the guest] Abzu concedes. [Lead on!]

    You politely excuse yourself, Abzu enthusiastically waving goodbye to Lyrros, and lead the way down the stairs to the brand new sublevel. You have no concrete destination in mind so you just wind up back in the dining room again. You turn, inhaling to launch into what you had planned, only to see Abzu looking around the room in all its half-finished glory.

    "(renovationsarestillongoingI'mtakingcareofthatwhenmywingheals) so" you gabble out as quick as you can. Abzu's gaze returns to you and you straighten up. You clasp your claws together and exhale again. "I may have told half of a teensy white lie. I do have to get around to speaking with you one-on-one as it's been quite a while since we last had the opportunity, but I noticed Lyrros seemed a tad uncomfortable with your questions. Perhaps you could at least ease off until he's had time to get settled and introduce himself?"

    [Oh! Oh I'm so sorry! D:] [I swear I don't even notice I'm doing it half the time] [I just... get excited very easily] Abzu signs apologetically, their eyes becoming '>>' arrows of contrition. [I blame the tower] [I'm so used to having to fixate on things] [y'know, to keep my mind active and stuff] [that new people and things put me in a bit of sensory overload.]

    "How long have you been in that tower?" you ask.

    They stare silently at you for a long while, long enough that a slow blink is the only evidence they heard you at all. [I mean I assume a while] they finally answer. [But some of the stuff in the pantry's still good so it can't be too long!]

    "... right," you say diplomatically. "I ask because I'm discussing everyone's living arrangements at the moment and that includes you. Do you plan to continue staying at the tower and only teleporting over to visit, do you plan to move in at some point, do you want to stay but also have a room prepared here for you in case you ever want to stay the night or multiple nights...?"

    [That doesn't seem a little rushed to you?] Abzu asks.

    "What does?"

    [Asking me to move in before we've even gone on a date.]

    You blink. You open your mouth, then close it again. "In my defence," you say at last, "my standards for 'rushed' have been greatly skewed lately, what with so many people moving in all of a sudden - granted due mostly to extenuating circumstances, like Makram living in a lamp I already own or Lyrros not wishing to live in that cursed manor he's been stuck in for a hundred years."

    [He's been living in a cursed manor for a hundred years!?] Abzu 'exclaims' with barely restrained glee. [Oh I need to get him to tell me everything!]

    "hhhhooooooold on a second," you say, snatching their sleeve as they try to sprint past you and gently tugging them back into position. "Let's try to focus and finish one conversation before another, shall we?"

    [Oh. Right.] Abzu makes another '>>' face. [Sorry]

    The idea of staying angry at anyone as cute as Abzu is almost unthinkable, so whatever frustration you did briefly feel drains away like water through a sieve. You let go of their sleeve and take a moment to think. What would Belial do? Or Issachar, to a certain extent? Well... when it doubt, just copy people that seem like they know what they're doing.

    "What do you want out of this?" you ask. "Us. When you found out what the map does you were... the most excited at the prospect of us all, to put it lightly. And obviously now that I've had time to process it properly I'm (cautiously) optimistic about the chances of this all working out. But that still leaves me wondering where you stand."

    [I suppose we've both been a bit too busy to talk about it huh?] Abzu replies. [I suppose part of it is I've never been in a relationship before] [So when one just waltzes up to me in my solitude and says hi] [Well how could I say no?]

    "It tends to get difficult when it reaches that point, yes," you agree.

    [Also you're pretty cute :3]

    "D-don't just blurt out things like that without giving any warning!" you stammer, as if they had reached up and smacked you. Abzu's eyes curve up in obvious mirth - you swear their head is even bobbing in a silent imitation of giggling.

    [You aaaaare and even the way you react to being told that is cute] they go on. [And it was fun to have you sleep over with Makram!] [But I guess we should get around to properly spending some time alone together huh?]

    "Indeed we should make some arrangements, say, pencil in a time tom-"

    [Let's go right now!]

    "beg pardon"

    You scan Abzu's face for some sign that they're just pulling your leg, which is a bit difficult due to the lack of discernable features, but the fact that they keep feverishly flipping through signs is answer enough really.

    [Why not? Being able to teleport means never having to make travel plans!] [Ooh ooh I have so many places logged, if we just pop over to the tower we can use the circles there] [We can see some places in the Beyond I had anchored for a rainy day!] [Well not literally but you know what I mean.] [Or we could go somewhere you want?] [It's not impossible to teleport somewhere sight unseen just a bit difficult but I can handle it sparingly.]

    Your eyes rapidly dart left and right as you struggle to keep up with the speed at which they flash the signs. You did not think someone so mute could be so overwhelmingly chatty.

    [But those are just options!] [Honestly I'm probably fine with whatever you'd like, I just wanna spend time with you :3]

    You are incapable of blushing in your draconic forms, which is good because you don't know what you'd do with yourself these days otherwise. You scratch the plates running down the back of your neck with a metal-on-metal keening and ponder the offer. You won't lie, a teleporting partner (that can bring you along too, Makram) makes a very appealing one when planning your day, and that goes double when your damn wing is still making itself known every so often. And this... damn is this really the first date-date on the cards out of all the time you've spent with all the boyfriends (and other) you've met so far? Sounds like you need the practice.

    "I... would love to," you say at last

    [<3] Abzu signs, and you avert your eyes because it makes you feel funny butterflies deep in the pit of your stomach. You feel a gentle pressure around your claws, and look down to find their gloved hand squeezing yours.

    "I-I mean we should at least tell the others we've gone so as not to alarm them-" you stammer out, brain lurching into gear after spending much too long entranced by the diminutive wizard.

    [What d'you think the familiar is for?] Abzu asks.

    "... I-I remembered that," you reply. "I just- I was checking if you remembered."

    Abzu gently bonks you on the temple with a sign that says [Silly]

    [So where to, Eldie?]

    "(I am Eldingar, The Azure Bolt That Splits The Sky and I will be addressed as such)" you mumblegrumble, only slightly offended by Abzu's instant familiarity. You devote most of your effort to answering Abzu's question. What does sound good for a first date with them?

    [ ] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
    --[ ] Visit yours, the Spiral Bridge Chasm; an impossibly deep shaft sunk into the desert sands to the east, crisscrossed with myriad glass crossways and staircases. You might bump into the team on the way in or out.
    --[ ] Visit the Forest of Twelve Seasons, buried deep in the endless woods far to the west, where time flows so quickly for the trees that leaves will grow and die and grow again in the span of a minute.
    --[ ] Visit the Looking-Glass Glacier, a towering monument of ice far to the frozen north that becomes as crystal-clear as glass in the right lighting. You may need to more more carefully than usual.
    --[ ] The Infinite Cloud Maze. It's probably fine, and you know for certain no one will disturb you there.

    [ ] Go to Abzu's tower.
    --[ ] Take all your magic items and figuratively dump them on Abzu's table. They seem to thrive on things to do, so why not bond over a mutual love of absurd magical trinkets and gizmos?
    --[ ] Take a more in-depth look at what they've been working on -perhaps they've added something new since you last visited- and maybe even help out with an experiment or two.
    --[ ] Angle to learn more about the place and their past, ask for a more thorough tour, things like that. Abzu seems not so much evasive about their past as uninterested, but you feel it would be best if you knew as much as possible.

    [ ] Go to Söfnun. The minute you lack the ability to fly off whenever you please is the minute you start going crazy thinking of everything you could be doing there, so this is as good a compromise as any.
    --[ ] Take Azbu shopping. You can satisfy your lust for novelty bullshit and they can get a look at the constant stream of fresh magical goods streaming in from all over the world.
    --[ ] Take them to the Adventurer's Guild and ask for Ilyana to set up some interviews with the local adventurers if possible. What better way to help them gather some data about the Beyond? And you can look very impressive with all your connections.
    --[ ] Take them for a general tour of the city. Show them as many points of interest you can think of, examining whatever they wish - if they've been shut up in that tower for so long, surely sightseeing alone will hold some novelty?
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 14, 2018 at 11:17 AM, finished with 2965 posts and 29 votes.
    • [X] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
      --[X] The Infinite Cloud Maze. It's probably fine, and you know for certain no one will disturb you there.
      [X] Go to Abzu's tower.
      --[X] Take all your magic items and figuratively dump them on Abzu's table. They seem to thrive on things to do, so why not bond over a mutual love of absurd magical trinkets and gizmos?
      [X] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
      --[X] Visit the Forest of Twelve Seasons, buried deep in the endless woods far to the west, where time flows so quickly for the trees that leaves will grow and die and grow again in the span of a minute.
      [X] Go to Söfnun. The minute you lack the ability to fly off whenever you please is the minute you start going crazy thinking of everything you could be doing there, so this is as good a compromise as any.
      --[X] Take them for a general tour of the city. Show them as many points of interest you can think of, examining whatever they wish - if they've been shut up in that tower for so long, surely sightseeing alone will hold some novelty?
      [X] INFINITE CLOWN MAZE
      [X] Go to Söfnun. The minute you lack the ability to fly off whenever you please is the minute you start going crazy thinking of everything you could be doing there, so this is as good a compromise as any.
      --[X] Take Azbu shopping. You can satisfy your lust for novelty bullshit and they can get a look at the constant stream of fresh magical goods streaming in from all over the world.
      [X] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
      --[x] Visit the Looking-Glass Glacier, a towering monument of ice far to the frozen north that becomes as crystal-clear as glass in the right lighting. You may need to more more carefully than usual.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 16, 2018 at 1:28 AM, finished with 2971 posts and 34 votes.
    • [X] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
      --[X] The Infinite Cloud Maze. It's probably fine, and you know for certain no one will disturb you there.
      [X] Go to Abzu's tower.
      --[X] Take all your magic items and figuratively dump them on Abzu's table. They seem to thrive on things to do, so why not bond over a mutual love of absurd magical trinkets and gizmos?
      [X] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
      --[X] Visit the Forest of Twelve Seasons, buried deep in the endless woods far to the west, where time flows so quickly for the trees that leaves will grow and die and grow again in the span of a minute.
      [X] Go to Söfnun. The minute you lack the ability to fly off whenever you please is the minute you start going crazy thinking of everything you could be doing there, so this is as good a compromise as any.
      --[X] Take them for a general tour of the city. Show them as many points of interest you can think of, examining whatever they wish - if they've been shut up in that tower for so long, surely sightseeing alone will hold some novelty?
      [X] INFINITE CLOWN MAZE
      [X] Go to Söfnun. The minute you lack the ability to fly off whenever you please is the minute you start going crazy thinking of everything you could be doing there, so this is as good a compromise as any.
      --[X] Take Azbu shopping. You can satisfy your lust for novelty bullshit and they can get a look at the constant stream of fresh magical goods streaming in from all over the world.
      [X] Go visit the Beyond. There's plenty to do and see there - by definition there always is - and you recall a few unclaimed dungeons from your meeting with Ilyana you could suggest.
      --[x] Visit the Looking-Glass Glacier, a towering monument of ice far to the frozen north that becomes as crystal-clear as glass in the right lighting. You may need to more more carefully than usual.
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Forty-Two: You Want To Make A Witty Observation About Abzu's Head Being In The Clouds But Try As You Might You Can't Satisfactorily Piece It Together
  • View content
    • "Iiiiii do know of one place I think you might like," you say at last, after some desperate brain-wracking because being around Abzu has a way of derailing your train of thought. "I happened to visit the local Adventurer's Guild branch the other day to organise a job and the guildmaster happened to show me the coordinates to something they dubbed the Infinite Cloud Maze. It's up in the northern Beyond and I figured, well, you seem to-"

    [That sounds great!] [Let's go let's go I wanna see!]

    "-well alright then that makes that easy."

    The message you leave for the others via the familiar is something along the lines of needing to take Abzu for a walk like they were a dog going stir-crazy and gnawing the furniture, which you both agree is at least a little true, and make ready to leave. You direct Abzu to a room that can be 'theirs' for the time being (albeit you should really get the decorators to differentiate them more) and recite the coordinates from memory as they draw up a teleportation circle, scratching the design into the stone floor with the butt of their staff like a giant novelty pen full of luminous golden ink. You watch silently with more than a little interest and curiosity as Abzu puts the finishing touches on the design, takes a few steps back, and brings their staff down in both hands with a sharp crack. The world rips like a blanket in response, a tear tall enough for either of you steadily widening in a sudden rush of freezing air. Snowflakes dance merrily into the room through the dimensional window Abzu just opened as you catch sight of sunlit snow and towering peaks beyond.

    [There we are!] [I'll set it to close again in a few minutes so you don't get monsters in your lair.] Abzu turns and offers their hand. [Shall we?]

    You delicately take their hand. Whatever you may have expected from their grip it's... on the whole fairly normal. There's a certain softness to it, a sense of fragility, but then they squeeze tight and yank on your arm and you realise you're probably overthinking this. You hurry forward to catch up to the eager wizard and drop down on the other side of the portal, sinking calf-deep in snow as you're suddenly bathed in midmorning light and a high-altitude chill that threatens to seep through even your scales. You've landed deep enough in the Beyond that you can't even see the shore, just a few scraps of blue sea faintly visible between the lower peaks as the endless mountain range slowly rises higher and higher. You barely have to lift your head to see the cloud layer, close enough for you to reach with a particularly enthusiastic jump, but the mountain you're standing on extends far beyond that. Snow whirls and dances before you, falling fresh from the clouds above and cascading down from the mountainside, a slow-rolling wave that creeps its way back to shore. You can only imagine how excited a white dragon would be in your place, every breath cold enough to chill the lungs, nothing but stark white and grey-black stone and brilliant blue ice all around. Even you can see at least a little of the charm.

    And all the while Abzu has been trying to figure out how to 'talk' to you with your hand in one hand and their staff in the other. You notice a certain amount of consternation on their simple features, seamlessly shifting into a silent 'sigh' of resignation as they slip their gloved hand free of yours. A moment later it's like nothing ever happened.

    [Know anything about where we are?] they ask.

    "This iiiiis... quite close to the Achebe Line, isn't it?" you reply after another quick look around. "Just over this set of peaks should be- well everything changes a bit obviously but generally speaking we're close to the furthest point anybody's ever made it into the northern Beyond right?"

    [Correct! The Northern Beyond is considered the most inhospitable of the regions.] [Pioneer Achebe's record hasn't been beaten to my knowledge in about sixty years, but in terms of as-the-crow-flies distance it's almost nothing.] [Of course all four have their own inherent problems but...] [Past a certain point it's not even the cold so much as being able to breathe.] They pause, looking back at you. [Actually a dragon could probably handle that alright, couldn't they?]

    "Even we have altitude limits," you remind them, flicking your head towards the summit and beginning the trudge towards the Guild outpost as you speak. "Besides, I doubt it'd be that easy. I might sooner climb up past the sky itself than break into whatever hidden world you say might lie beyond the Beyond."

    [But doesn't that appeal in its own way? ;p] Abzu signs, double-timing it to stay level with you to 'talk'. You obligingly slow to let them catch up. [Just imagine it, the first dragon to ever be among the stars. Staring down at the world from a brand new constellation~]

    "Is this your attempt to seduce me?" you ask, half-joking.

    [Yeah, is it working? ;3]

    You snort despite yourself, and you notice Abzu's paintblotch-white eyes arc up with mirth in kind. Their hand seeks out yours again and you gingerly squeeze, comfortable silence falling as you focus on finding the outpost. The chill doesn't let up, worming its way in through the cracks between your scales, but you have to admit it's doing wonders for your wingjoint. By the time you spy the flapping red pennant that marks the right cave mouth it's practically pain-free. The difference is like night and day once the two of you cross the threshold, wind chill falling off to little more than a fresh breeze a short ways into the tunnel. You shed snow with every step, but Abzu has to retrieve their hand from yours and pat themselves down everywhere they can reach to get all of it.

    "Abzu?"

    [Hm?]

    You point at their hat-brim. "You look like a frosted cake."

    [Noooooo not the hat D:] They turn away and doff said pointy wizard-hat to gingerly smack the wide brim free of snow. You hardly expected to find a full head of hair hidden beneath, but what you see out of the corner of your eye makes you double-take. Abzu swiftly dons the impressive hat once more and resumes their enthusiastic pace into the heart of the mountain, but you know what you saw - a crown of curved, backswept horns, glossy and semi-liquid and dripping darkness.

    [What's up?] they ask, noticing your expression.

    "Did you always have horns or is that a shapeshifting thing?" you ask.

    [I have horns?] Almost the second they sign it, Abzu smacks themself in the face with it (it ripples like pudding). [Of course I have horns, stupid me. Forget my own head if it wasn't stuck to my shoulders.] [I've just been wearing my hat so long I kind of forgot myself.]

    "You've been wearing your hat for that long?" you repeat incredulously.

    [It's a very good hat >:[ ] Abzu signs indignantly. [I mean I also can shapeshift since you brought it up, I'm just saying the horns are default.]

    "Oh? In what ways?"

    [Eldingar please some secrets must be saved for the bedroom~]

    Your eyes go very wide at the implications of what kind of 'shapeshifting' that might mean and it makes you feel very very funny inside. You notice Abzu silently giggling out of the corner of your eye and frown deeply, which only makes them 'laugh' harder. But then they hold your hand again so in your magnanimity you're willing to let this insult pass. For now.

    You find the Guild outpost about a minute down the tunnel, where it widens into a more rounded cavern. Orange light flickers and dances across the rough planes of dark stone from the firepit in the centre - smokeless, must been some magic involved. Twin tents are visible on the borderline between the firelight of mortal vision and the twilit grey of your darkvision, open and unoccupied. Abzu stops and kneels by the firepit but you move on, passing between the tents and approaching the door.

    It's a grand door, befitting any precursor 'dungeon' worth noting down in the Guild ledgers, a beautifully-worked slab of some dark metal you doubt is steel and gold that seems completely at odds with the rough, unworked stone of the tunnel around it. You'd heard of the theories that 'dungeons' are formerly parts of greater wholes, torn free by whatever cataclysm destroyed the precursors in the first place and violently hurled across all four cardinal directions of Beyond at random, but in your expert opinion this is all the convincing you need. A civilisation with the almost draconic sense of aesthetics the precursors have would most certainly never hide a door like this in some no-name cave.

    And then you look left and see a skeleton.

    You make a noise of surprise, something like a half-strangled "nyeurgh", that draws Abzu almost immediately. They hurry to your side, the [What, what is it?] sign already upheld, before they follow your eyeline and catch sight of the skeleton lying in a vaguely person-shaped jumble in a shadowed alcove. They, conversely, jump in excitement and scramble over to its side immediately. Their staff lands on the floor beside them with a dull wooden clatter as they sink to their knees and start touching absolutely everything.

    "Ah... well... I suppose that's a big clue as to why the outpost is deserted," you say eventually, once you've sufficiently gathered yourself. "Although it seems strange. Guild pioneers never explore alone, so the partner must be dead too for that one to have been left to rot, but in that case why hasn't the Beyond shifted yet?"

    [Because this man hasn't decomposed] Abzu signs, straightening up and retrieving their staff. They point at the firepit. [See there? Still going strong. No Powder of Smokeless Fire is that good.] [No, this dwarf was killed.] [Devoured, in fact. Stripped to the bone by a swarm of things with very sharp teeth.] [Isn't that incredible?]

    "Wha- why?"

    [The things that killed him might be something completely undiscovered :D]

    Even though you know rationally that your scales are better than any suit of armour and whatever it is that got the dwarf would sooner blunt its teeth on you than do any real harm, the thought still fills you with a sense of visceral dread. It may have something to do with the alternate name Ilyana mentioned.

    "There aren't any signs of... clown-related injury, are there?" you ask as casually as possible, as if such words arranged in that order were even capable of being uttered casually. Abzu shoots you a deeply puzzled look.

    "It's... no, no you're right," you say haltingly, letting out a sigh of relief. "That's ridiculous. There's no way that-"honk"-WHAT WAS THAT!?"

    You whirl around but all you see is the grand door, still securely shut. There are most definitely no small cracks or alcoves through which a carnivorous clown could have crept. Still, you give it another suspicious once-over before Abzu makes it to your side and taps your shoulder.

    [What's wrong?]

    "Nothing's wrong!" you protest immediately. "Just that when Ilyana explained- nothing, I'm sure it's nothing. Shall we proceed?"

    [Well, you're the strong one] Abzu observes, gesturing towards the door. [Let's see those big strong dragon muscles in action!]

    You know they're just buttering you up, but it's working. It's working very well. All thoughts of potential packs of carnivorous clowns forgotten for a moment you stride up to the door, set your palms against the steel and push with your considerable 'big strong dragon muscles'. It's slow going for just a moment, slow enough that you're almost concerned, but a moment later you feel a subtle tingle of energy flowing through the slab beneath your claws, and it suddenly budges with a gentle hiss of releasing pressure. You force your way through, biceps and triceps rippling impressively beneath the scales as you flex and spread your arms wide, throwing the doors open and revealing the long-hidden dungeon beyond. A maze lies beyond, made of brilliant white cloud as soft and fluffy as cotton and soaked in sunlight from the clear blue sky above. It gives slightly as you step inside, dipping beneath your foot-talons yet holding your weight all the same. You take a deep, relieved breath - Infinite Cloud Maze after all. You must have just imagined that honk.

    "So!" you say, all at once re-energised as if hit by a fresh bolt of lightning, turning to face Abzu. "Shall we?"

    [We shall!]

    Abzu quickens their pace to draw level with you, and the two of you set off into the meteorological maze. You go for the oldest trick in the book, trailing your talons across the fluffy white wall to your left and following that. It even feels a little like cotton fluff for some strange reason, little white wisps of it coming free around your clawtips, yet when you experimentally try to reach through the wall you find it growing exponentially denser until your hand simply gets stuck halfway through. Abzu enthusiastically notes that down while you grumble and worry your arm free of its fluffy confines.

    [So on the subject of shapeshifting from a little while ago] Abzu signs after a few more turns. [Mind if I ask you about yours? I've never had a dragon to question before and it's really fascinating.]

    "It would be my pleasure," you reply. And you mean it too - what dragon's favourite subject isn't themselves?

    [So in your mortal form where do your clothes come from?] [Can you make other things as part of a disguise?]

    You raise one talon and inhale, only to freeze a moment later. "I... I don't know."

    [Since you don't have scales in that form does that mean you can be killed without magic?]

    "... I don't know," you say uncertainly, thoughts of all the times you strode around Söfnun bold as brass in your Lord Elding guise when an assassin's knife may have been all that was needed to end you flashing vividly in your mind.

    [If you've got a sprained wing why can't you just shapeshift it better?] [Could you just shapeshift it away or into your mortal form so it stops bothering you?]

    "I-I don't-" you slow down, brow deeply furrowed as you stare directly ahead in consternation.

    [Do you only have set forms or can you selectively shapeshift?]

    "Okay that one I know!" you say, a little louder and more triumphantly than you really intended to. You hang another left at a four-way intersection and beckon Abzu to follow. "I've never had cause to do it beyond novelty but I've been able to selectively shift back to draconic form from mortal form before. Mouth, throat, teeth and tongue to breathe lightning, arms to throw bolts, that sort of thing. It's quite easy."

    [What's the difference between breathing and throwing?] they ask. [Are they not the same thing?]

    You shake your head. "I have these sort of... channels running through my body, you'll probably be able to see them next time I breathe lightning or absorb some. They're most obvious on my wings. All the lightning I absorb or use gets sort of... processed and passed through here-" you tap your chest in the general area of your heart "-sort of like a stomach? Breathing lightning is a direct conduit from there. It's much closer to maximum output, but it can be hard to control and tires me out a lot quicker. If I use my hand-" you let a few crackling arcs leap from talon to talon to illustrate "-it's weaker, but much easier to aim and control."

    [Are you locked into your birth sex or can you shapeshift that too?]

    "No that can definitely change," you say, glad to be over the initial hurdle of bewilderment at your own body. You reach a dead end and gesture for Abzu to turn around, swapping your claws to the other wall as you retrace your steps. "Some do whether temporarily or permanently out of personal preference. Some do it out of necessity, for breeding purposes."

    You suppose you should just be glad that Mother defaulted to finding someone like Jun-ho for you rather than making one of many possible and entirely horrifying suggestions. Thankfully you find a moment of 'silence' as Abzu gets distracted by a corner piece of the fluffy white maze, breaking off a handful to excitably poke and prod. It reminds you a lot of how Jun-ho got when he found the familiar.

    "Question for you," you say. Abzu almost jumps, sticking the piece of cloud back on the wall and turning to look at you with those big white eyes. "Why have you been in your tower so long? I mean, you said yourself that you're 'starved for stimulus' and you get so excited over every new thing you get to see. Why not visit the Beyond or go teleporting around the world yourself? Why wait for me?"

    [I told you, silly! I'm watching the tower for my master so it's all in order when he gets home!]

    "But you keep leaving to visit me," you point out. "So why not leave to visit places for your own sake? There's just as much -infinitesimally small- chance of coming home to find your master just happened to come back while you were out. Just from what I've seen I can't imagine you being happy stuck in one place for that long."

    Abzu slows, and you slow to match when you realise. Eventually the two of you come to a complete stop at a T-junction, your hand slowly drifting away from the wall as you turn to face the wizard properly, hunched over a little due to the height difference. They're looking down at the fluffy white floor, mutely lost in thought. You know rationally that they're always quiet but somehow the way they usually are still seems 'loud' in comparison. Enough to make this vaguely disquieting.

    [I guess it's just familiar] they sign back at last. They lift their head, white-blob eyes gazing up into yours. [You know what that's like, don't you?]

    "Of course I do," you answer readily, not really thinking about it. If anything you're confused - you were happy with the familiar before Mother and the map spoiled all that. Abzu isn't. But any further thoughts or follow-up questions on that particular subject are soon driven from your mind when you hear a sudden, entirely-too-loud HONK from up the main path of the T-junction. You jump up like a spear and lurch around the corner in search of the hideous creature that would make such a noise, already dreading a monstrous clown.

    A single pure white goose waddles down the cloudy path, webbed feet silently slapping on the cotton-soft floor. HONK it goes again.

    You laugh. "See? I told you there were no clowns. Just an ordinary harmless go-"

    HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS goes the goose as its fanged beak opens impossibly wide, a barb-toothed tongue the length of its entire body unspooling from the glistening depths within liked a spiked proboscis as it takes off in a flurry of feathers and comes screaming down the path straight at you.

    "-oooOOOAAAAAAZZZIFUCKINGDAHAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!" you scream at the top of your lungs, the scream transforming seamlessly and unintentionally into a sudden torrent of crackling lightning-breath. It bathes the passageway in dancing light and the stink of storm-air, utterly consuming the monstrous goose mid-flight. By the time you manage to snap your jaw shut like a steel trap what lands on the cloudy floor with a wet plop is much closer to a fresh-cooked roast. For a moment the silence just stretches on, unbroken, as if neither of you want to be the first to admit what just happened.

    "Th-there, see?" you say, turning to look at Abzu. A fresh-dropped sign dissipates into smoke by their foot. "Everything under con- whatdidthatsay?"

    [What did what say?] Abzu signs innocently.

    "The sign you just dropped, what did it say?"

    [Nothing]

    You narrow your eyes. You swear you see Abzu starting to sweat.

    Your interrogation is cut short by something far, far more terrifying than whatever it is they had on that sign. The sound, faint but slowly getting closer, just around a few more corners. The hellish, cacophonic chorus of a thousand carnivorous geese, drawn by the commotion in search of their next meal.

    "... do you know combat spells?"

    [A few]

    "Good."

    You consider your options as fowl doom draws ever closer. You've been out of the mountains long enough for the chill to wear off, and your sprained wing is starting to grate at you again. You've already got shapeshifting on the mind after Abzu's many questions to boot. You're a dragon, why not flex your abilities in front of your appreciative audience? The only question is how.

    [ ] Shift down to mortal form to fight the geese. Theoretically your wing can't bother you if you don't have a wing, and through half-shifting you'll still have full access to your claws and lightning. If anything you'll look even more impressive, transforming on the fly like that. And Abzu's watching.
    [ ] Stay in your current form. If it ain't broke don't fix it, and you're 99% sure the geese have no way of harming you when you're all scaly. Aside from your wings. Your injured- okay you'll give shifting them out of existence a shot.
    [ ] Shift up to your true form. You are a dragon, dammit, and these geese will learn respect! This whole maze will quake before your might, and Abzu will be suitably impressed by the full force of your draconic power as you sweep the flock away and tear the maze asunder! Presuming it holds under your new weight. Which it will. Probably.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 22, 2018 at 6:32 PM, finished with 2999 posts and 16 votes.
    • [X] Stay in your current form. If it ain't broke don't fix it, and you're 99% sure the geese have no way of harming you when you're all scaly. Aside from your wings. Your injured- okay you'll give shifting them out of existence a shot.
      [X] Shift up to your true form. You are a dragon, dammit, and these geese will learn respect! This whole maze will quake before your might, and Abzu will be suitably impressed by the full force of your draconic power as you sweep the flock away and tear the maze asunder! Presuming it holds under your new weight. Which it will. Probably.
      [X] Shift down to mortal form to fight the geese. Theoretically your wing can't bother you if you don't have a wing, and through half-shifting you'll still have full access to your claws and lightning. If anything you'll look even more impressive, transforming on the fly like that. And Abzu's watching.
      [X] Shift to your coward form. You have had enough of these goddamn geese in this goddamn maze for one day, thinkyewverymuch. And besides, Abzu will appreciate the ride.
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Forty-Three: You Seem To Have Impressed Abzu With Your Towering, Intimidating Draconic Power A Lot More Than You Planned To
  • View content
    • You are a dragon. Perhaps the new people swarming into your life have been forgetting that in recent days -hell you've been forgetting it yourself, the way you've been blindsided again and again- but today that ends! You refuse to be intimidated by a flock of angry geese, no matter how violent and mutated they are, and more to the point Abzu is watching so it's time they saw what you can really do. Every muscle in your body swells against the armoured scales keeping them contained, shifting and slithering as you grow. Bones crunching dully as they reshape within you, joints locking into new configurations, taloned feet sinking deeper and deeper into the springy cloud beneath as you grow heavier. You grow, rise, taller and taller, quadrupedal stance pitching you forward but you arrest your fall, massive foreclaws gripping the tops of the cloud-walls either side as if they were no more than the sides of a bath. You lift yourself up with the barest effort and tower above the flock, above the maze, above it all. It stretches on infinitely in all directions, an endless sea of fluffy white cloud and brilliant blue sky, the sun shining down bright like a brilliant white coin. The cloud-walls beneath your foreclaws dip dangerously with your new mass, but they hold.

    You loom over the oncoming swarm at the size of a building, a wide grin stretching from ear to ear, showing off every single one of your many fangs. You doubt the geese have the mental capacity to realise the mistake they've made, but you swear you see a few slow their mad charge all the same. Oh well. Too late for them.

    You lunge your head forward and bathe the corridor in a roiling wave of sizzling, keening, crackling lightning. Brilliant blue-white bolts forking and zig-zagging madly, tangled and squirming over each other like a colony of angular snakes, blinding all but the strongest of eyes with its light and deafening all but strongest ears with its earsplitting thunderclap. The clear blue sky itself seems to dim in recognition of its brilliance, the smell of storms and roasted goosemeat filling the air as you track your breath all the way from the head of the pack to the last few stragglers. Consuming them all in your light and your fury.

    You snap your jaws shut like a gargantuan steel trap, cutting off the flow of lightning and leaving what remains of your foes to smoke and sizzle. It was overkill, you'll admit that. You haven't topped up in a while and the expenditure's left you with a dull pressure throbbing uncomfortably behind your eyes, but you can handle it. It was all worth it for the sake of showing the true, overwhelming power of a dragon. You find yourself grinning with glee as you track the massive scorch-mark you left, the carbonised lumps that used to be dire geese, all the little intricacies in the burns left by the lesser forks of the roiling storm you unleashed. And there, down on ground level, already so small and even smaller now by comparison, is Abzu. Sheltered in the shadow of your right foreleg, holding up a [Good lord] sign where you can see.

    You throw your head back and let out a good old-fashioned earsplitting draconic roa-

    CLONK

    "Ow what the f-uck?-"

    You recoil, instinctively yanking your foreclaw up to cradle your recently-thumped head. You glare accusingly up at the sky only to see... see what should be nothing but open air but now that you're looking close, well and truly up close with this new height and neck-length you swear there's a little mark in mid-air, almost like a smudge where your scaly brow collided. You press your foreclaw to the sky and find-

    "This- this is a ceiling!" you exclaim, more offended that the dungeon would dare restrict your draconic majesty than shocked to find that the brilliant cloudy masterpiece stretching out before you is mere trickery.

    Then you realise you've left all your weight resting on your left foreclaw and while the surprisingly-dense cloud can handle a lot, it can't work miracles. "WUAH" you cry as it collapses beneath you and you pitch left, thrashing and rolling madly as you do everything in your power to avoid falling on your sprained wing in the half-second of conscious thought you're allotted.

    The maze rumbles and shakes as you roll over and over, crushing walls in your wake, striking out with all five limbs for some kind of handhold, one wing drawn up tight against your body, the other flapping just because it can. One minute the whole world is spinning and the next you come to a ponderous stop, splayed out on your chest in what seems to be the central chamber of the maze, bottom half awkwardly held up by what cloud-walls are left, hind legs and tail askew. A plinth lies before you, exquisitely framed between your splayed foreclaws, almost dead-on with your snout. Atop this plinth, embedded in said plinth in fact, is a staff made of some dark-undertoned metal with a kind of golden-iridescent sheen to it, tipped with an angular ornamental head that reminds you somewhat of Makram's lamp. You take one breath and your nostrils are flooded with the scent of magic.

    You imagine your pupils dilating to a pair of thin black slits as you drag yourself forward by your claws, shifting down mid-motion until your bipedal form is picking itself off the ground and stumbling up the few shallow steps between you and your prize. You kick away the skeleton clinging to the base and yank it free with barely an effort, holding your prize aloft with palpable glee.

    fwoomp

    The floor suddenly vanishes beneath you, and before you even have time to process what happened you land again. You're left confused mostly, blinking and looking down at your feet where they stand planted on something a lot less springy and yielding than the magical cloud you were just on. It mostly just looks like... flat, polished, blued alloy?

    You lift your gaze and not a trace of the maze remains. You stand in a metal-plated cube of a room, maybe 25 metres each side, featureless but for the scorch marks where your lightning burned through even the illusion stretched over it like a hide, lit by nothing but the grey twilight that darkness becomes to your eyes. You turn in a complete circle, brow furrowed in confusion as you scan the room, but all you see is Abzu approaching and one very lost and confused snowy goose HONKing in consternation at the corner it's found itself stuck in. You turn away so that it can preserve at least some small measure of dignity and face Abzu instead, still clutching the staff.

    [Well that was...] [Unexpected] they sign at last.

    "Yeah no kidding," you say, casting one more glance around the darkened, silent (HONK okay 'somewhat') room. "That can't have just been an illusion, can it? I mean sure I hit the limits eventually but you saw me touching the clouds, those were definitely solid."

    [Perhaps the answer lies in that control rod you've got there.] [May I see it?]

    You don't say 'but it's mine though' out loud. You just think it very, very hard. You look down at the staff in your hands, back up at Abzu, back down at the staff. Back up at Abzu with a look that impresses upon them just how seriously they should take handling a dragon's rightfully-claimed prize. "... fine. But I want it back!"

    [Don't worry! I like my staff anyway.] They politely pluck the stolen staff from your hands and rest their own against their shoulder, falling 'silent' as they turn the precursor artefact this way and that, poking and prodding at anything that looks mildly interesting with gloved fingers that trail golden traceries of light. Finishing the analysis isn't the hard part - it's trying to free one hand to start signing again without dropping anything. You feel like stepping in to help would come off patronising so you wait patiently.

    [It's just conjecture at this point but I think it's related to djinn lamps] they sign, their actual staff tucked into the crook of their arm. [It makes illusions, but special kinds of illusion with actual mass and weight according to what they're mimicking.]

    "Like what?"

    [I don't know yet! I just picked it up, I'm not the god of magic :p]

    "Yeah, well... can I have it back now?" you ask, trying not to get all furtive and desperate about it. Abzu flashes you a [;P] sign because they can't help themselves (the bastard) but hands your rightful prize back all the same. You shiver with glee to have it in your hands again, sucking in one more heavy sniff to catch the scent of its power. You hold up one talon for Abzu to wait and turn away, tipping your head back as far as it will go and slowly feeding the entire length straight down your throat like a chicken bone for safekeeping. You smack your lips contentedly as it drops the rest of the way.

    [No gag reflex huh?]

    "What?"

    [What?]

    You stare at Abzu. They stare back innocently.

    HWONK goes the lost goose in the corner.

    After a long moment of silence you experimentally pat your stomach, testing how the relic sits within. The shape and size are a little awkward, but on the whole you think you can last 'til you're back at your hoard just fine. Then it can go on the pile with all the other artefacts of power.

    [There's no way that could fit inside you if all you did was swallow it] Abzu observes out of nowhere. [Does your stomach have some kind of extradimensional quality?] [I mean you're already doing the impossible by drastically changing your mass between true form and this one.] [Ooh does your stomach stay the same size as your true form or something!?]

    "I-i don't-?" you stammer to a start, mind reeling once more at all the questions about your own body Abzu forces you to think about. "I don't... get as hungry as I do in my true form so-"

    [Oh and dietary requirements I really want to see how you metabolise lightning] [I think all the cutting-edge 'electricity' stuff uses things called circuits that look a lot like your markings!]

    They go to raise yet another sign, only to pause halfway through. They drop their gaze, arm dipping down only to rise with a slightly different sign. [And that will all have to wait.] [Sorry but I just realised I've still got two free-standing portals left to make and those are draining.]

    "Oh? Oh, right. Back to the spire and then back to your tower," you say. "How draining do you mean? Will you be alright?"

    [Oh yeah I'll be fine! No worse than a bad headache.] [It's that I'll be too distracted to get any work done is all.] They pause a moment, then sidle a little closer to you with a strange sort of light in their pure white eyes. [It was really cool watching you cut loose like that, y'know.] [I've seen your true form before but I've never seen it like that.]

    "It was nothing," you reply, as cool and aloof as you always are. "As you saw yourself, the illusory trap itself that attempted to ensnare us was no match for my full might."

    [Oh and what might it was!] [Just one burst from your breath was stronger than any spell I could possibly hope to make] [I knew already I had nothing to fear when adventuring with you but to think you would prove me so right!]

    You preen smugly, worrying away at some imaginary dirt in the cracks of your scales with your clawtips, smoothing back your many-pointed golden-yellow horns. "I suppose an analytical mind like yourself would appreciate hard confirmation of things the whole world knows is obviously true," you say modestly.

    [I won't lie, it was pretty sexy.]

    "I'll sa- what?"

    You double-take, staring down at Abzu's upturned face as if searching the near-featureless blank blob for some sign of their intentions. They oblige a moment later with a proudly-upheld [:3] sign. You clear your throat loudly in a closed fist and seize control of the conversation.

    "Right so I must ask, the portals you make, is the strain distance-based or just the act of opening one?"

    [Both, basically] they sign back. [There's an initial cost to opening a portal, physical distance just makes it worse.] [So I'd wipe myself out teleporting between rooms trying to be lazy.] [Ultimately stopping at your place to drop you off is probably easier than portalling straight home.]

    "I see, I see," you say, scratching your armoured chin. "In that case may I make a proposition?"

    [Shoot!]

    "I have a little business in Söfnun I'd rather take care of sooner rather than later, but with my wing situation who knows when I'll be well enough to head out and handle that myself. Would you like to take us both into the city for now, and then stay the night at the spire when I need to return?" you ask. "It only seems fair, you let me stay overnight at the tower when we first met."

    [:)] Abzu reaches out and snags your hand again, lacing their gloved fingers together with your claws and squeezing. [Sounds like a date!]

    "A-ah, good! Well then!" You feel strangely hot under the scales, but you find yourself squeezing back instinctively. You scratch your chin again, hoping to cover the burning need to let out a little laugh (not a 'giggle') with the sound of your talons raking over your armour. "Since we'll be in town I'll happily pay for- wait do you eat?"

    [Probably!] Abzu glances down. [We should probably bring the skeletons too.]

    "Skeletons? What-" you glance down at what they're looking at. The one that was clinging to the base of the staff before you dispelled the illusion is still there. "-oh right those skeletons. Yes that seems fair."

    After all you did do one of the League's available dungeons unsanctioned just because you were bored. Bringing back the remains of the lost pioneers only seems polite. Abzu casts a spell which suffuses the skeletons in golden shrouds, 'animating' each bone individually to create a pair of jiggling uncanny nightmares that you quickly advise them will not send the right impression when walking in through the front door of an Adventurer's Guild. Seeming a touch despondent but conceding your point, they stuff the bones in a small sack of holding instead.

    On your part, as you step through the freshly-created portal into a back-alley of Söfnun, you finally work out what happens when you shift down into a form with no wings while one of yours is sprained. It's the weirdest sensation you've ever had the misfortune of experiencing in your life and in your Lord Elding guise it manifests as an incredibly uncomfortable knot in your back muscles that takes everything in your power to ignore.

    The first part goes fairly smoothly. Ilyana may be far from happy to hear about the deaths of two adventurers, but you've heard about enough expedition casualties secondhand to know full well it doesn't shock her any more. She only thanks you for thinking to bring back the remains before the Beyond could change and scatter them to the winds forever. Having Abzu with you to say [Hi!] and introduce themselves probably helped smooth things over too.

    Regardless, you unleash yourself and Abzu upon the city. It's not quite the full day of shopping and fun that you might have suggested had you thought of it this morning, and the energy the pair of you have already expended on your little adventure up north does dull the mood somewhat, but not completely. You're almost productive! You pick up a pair of beef skewers on the way to the Plutocracy quarter, witnessing Abzu simply thrusting the entire thing into their face and pulling the skewer back out clean. You buy them some tonic or another formulated to counteract spellcaster exhaustion with a lightning bolt etched into the side of the bottle and watch them 'drink' that by just sticking the neck into their mouth-area without any discernable lips, tip their head back and chug down the bright blue fluid like water passing through soil to reach a plant's roots. They sign [Thank you, I feel a lot better :D] and you find yourself smiling without meaning to.

    On the business side of things, you put your recently-lost-and-won financial security and working arrangement with Plutocracy contractors to good use. You finally buy a sending stone like you've been meaning to for a few years - the saleswoman tries to upsell you by talking about how this kind has fingerprint locking like you both don't already know you don't even have fingerprints if you can help it - and make sure it's attuned to the contract office first thing. An arrangement to have the kitchen stocked regularly here, a deal to spruce up the outside of the spire too there, getting a head start on personalising everyone's rooms on the side, you're certain you must look very impressive and connected to Abzu which only spurs you on.

    In all the excitement you lose track of time. By the time Abzu conjures the portal back into your spire the sun is starting to set, casting the secluded alley it occupies into steadily-deepening shadow highlighted with flame-gold, and you for one are very much ready to pass out atop your treasure. Maybe even wake up with a fixed wing. You stride across the threshold hand in hand and emerge to find the main cavern empty but for Jun-ho - what else? - sitting with the blobby familiar having the time of his life. Maybe you should invest in a cat or three, it seems like he'd appreciate them too.

    "Hey!" he calls as he notices your arrival, springing to his feet and carrying the familiar over in his cupped palms. "How'd it go? You were gone a little longer than I expected."

    "Mee-ma-mo!" the familiar squeaks in agreement.

    "Ah," you say, face falling a little, "I got very wrapped up in business and forgot to mention the extension." You hold up your brand new sending stone by way of explanation. "So I don't have to return to town for every minute detail any more. In very short order the kitchen and pantry will be fully stocked and the proper personalisation of everyone's rooms can commence!"

    "Ah, speaking of room decorating," Jun-ho says suddenly. "Don't worry about Lyrros, he headed straight into his room to do that personally and he hasn't been out all day."

    "Yeah that sounds like him," you reply. You glance back at Abzu, and the day's festivities bring another memory flooding back. "Ah. I feel the need to apologise once again for our last outing, Jun-ho. Today was a lot more successful and we should arrange to make up for that at some point."

    "Oh don't worry about it!" Jun-ho says with a wave of his hand. "I mean- well yeah on the one hand it was pretty stressful and frightening. But on the other we got to meet Datu and his sister! So it wasn't all bad. But um... I would like to go out with you again sometime soon, yeah."

    "It's settled then," you say.

    Jun-ho looks at Abzu. "Your familiar is really cute," he says.

    [Aw thanks. So are you :3]

    "O-oh, well that was- I mean- (eehee)," Jun-ho stammers, barely hiding his happy smile. He doesn't leave so much as practically abscond at the first opportunity, as if in fear of what another round of flirting would do to him. Or perhaps he's making room for you and Abzu? You're not sure, and you feel a twinge of something you can't quite place. Tomorrow, you decide. Tomorrow you'll tell everyone about your plans whether or not Datu's shown up and get everything out in the open.

    [You've got great taste in guys, going by who the map's picked] Abzu comments.

    "Oh shush you," you say, no real malice in your voice. "I'll show you to your room. Or at least try to find you a spare one. (Should get some nameplates and a noticeboard done up at this rate mumblegrumble...)"

    You stop and hack up the staff you've been carrying in your stomach for half the day into your hoard before you forget. It's mostly a lot of laboured breathing and false starts until eventually it shoots free like a hurled spear and buries itself halfway into the pile. You're satisfied nonetheless.

    It takes a lot of false starts, knocking on doors and listening intently for a response, a lot of awkward half-conversations as you explain your goal and Abzu says [Hi!], one declaration through the door from Makram that he will be entertaining no visitors tonight, muffled music and brightly-flashing lights filtering through the cracks of Lyrros', before finally you find the unoccupied one you were looking for.

    "Bed, bathroom, all this can be changed," you explain, pointing out the various features of the admittedly bland guest room. "Write down any suggestions you have, don't feel limited in the slightest, bring things over from the tower even if you want. Any questions?"

    Abzu rests their staff up against the wall beside their bed and sits down heavily on the edge. They bounce. You suspect they'd keep bouncing if they didn't have other things on their mind. They glance up at you, and despite their rudimentary features you swear they were half-expecting you to already be gone from the doorway.

    [I had a lot of fun today, y'know.]

    "Of course you did," you say dismissively. "I only choose the most exotic and intriguing of locales for my day trips, and you had nothing to fear so long as I-"

    Abzu holds up a sign. It has no words on it, just a drawing of a person of ambiguous gender quirking their eyebrows up with a distinctly unimpressed expression. It somehow conveys the emotion of 'really?' far better than any number of words could allow.

    "-I... had fun too," you finish sheepishly.

    [What'cha got planned?] they ask. [Tonight, tomorrow, etc.]

    "Ah. Well tonight I was just thinking an early night, let my wing finish healing and all that," you reply, tapping your talons against the carved stone doorway. "Tomorrow? I'm not sure if Datu will be showing up that early, but my fingers are crossed. Nevertheless I'm going to gather everyone in the main cavern and discuss how things are going to proceed. It will be..." a hairline fracture in your words as the full enormity of trying to convince everyone that a polyamorous relationship can and will work crashes down on you like a shipment of anvils "... stimulating."

    [You like 'em all, don'tcha? :3]

    You grimace briefly, but there's even less point in hiding it now than ever before. "I do have... feelings for everyone at this spire, yes. And I discussed what to do about said feelings with Belial a short time ago. Consider it a particularly grand experiment."

    [No no, not that.] [Well I mean yes that's exciting too but] [What I meant was just now with Jun-ho, y'know?] Abzu wriggles a little further up the edge of the bed. [He didn't seem like an afterthought. You'd just gotten back with me but you jumped right to worrying about he felt.]

    "That seems a little generous an assessment," you say, wondering where Abzu is going with this.

    [I'm saying it's sweet, silly. Seeing you care.]

    You don't really know how to respond to that. You scratch at the cracks between your scales and avert your eyes, lips twisted up into an S-shape. One of these days your boyfriends and other will stop saying things that knock you all off-balance, but today is not that day.

    You hear the sound of footfalls, and a gentle tap on the shoulder. You look up - oh, idiot, Abzu can't talk to you when you aren't looking at them, it's just so ingrained it slipped your mind for a moment. You open your mouth to apologise but Abzu presses a gloved finger to your lips, shushing you.

    [Can I ask you something?] they ask.

    "What's the occasion? You've never needed permission before," you remark.

    They silently giggle. [Okay that's fair.] Their expression grows more serious. [I wanted to ask you something a little more important than all the other asking I do is all.] [And make sure you know that any answer is fine, y'know?]

    "Of... course?" you reply slowly, the barest inkling of what Abzu means beginning to sprout in the back of your mind while the rest of you lurches and staggers just to keep up. A soft-edged, cross-hatched white blush slowly spreads across their cheeks as they wrap both hands around the next sign they raise.

    [Do you want to sleep with me tonight?]

    It's not the question itself that's the most surprising thing, not really. It's how you feel about the question. You know in your rational mind that you should be reeling as if punched, sputtering, stammering, making excuses and running, whatever worst-case-scenarios you can conjure up. But you aren't. It's disarming, oh by every god you can name it's disarming, but you're merely silent. Merely thinking about it. That cage deep inside you is unlocked and what lies inside has pricked up its ears. It's not ravenous any more. Just hungry.

    [I hope I haven't upset you!]

    "No! No, no you haven't upset me," you reassure them quickly. "I promise you haven't it's only... I need to think."

    [Hey, sure. Think away :)]

    You smile slightly, averting your eyes so you don't distract yourself staring at Abzu, and you think. Is... is this alright? Is this what you want? Is this what you need? Is this the right thing to do? Absurd as it is, you almost wish you could step out of the room and ask Belial. But, dammit what kind of self-respecting dragon would back down from a question like this? It's your answer to give and you should own it proudly. That sounds a bit like something Belial would say.

    [ ] Say yes. Explain to them what you intend with the greater relationship as clearly as you can and... well... let whatever happens, happen.
    [ ] Accept in the more literal sense. Explain that you don't feel comfortable getting that physical at this stage, but sharing a bed does sound... interesting to try.
    [ ] Refuse. Explain that you don't feel comfortable going this fast at this stage, but that in no way means 'never'.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Jul 30, 2018 at 6:03 AM, finished with 3067 posts and 31 votes.
    Click to expand...
     
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Forty-Four: Because Nothing Can Ever Be Easy And Perhaps You Should've Prepared Yourself For The Idea That These Things Won't Be Perfect Every Time [M]
  • View content
    • How to... respond to this? How to explain? It all sounded so reasonable in your head but now that you're being asked to put it all into words aloud you have to bumble through it like you're looking for diamonds in a snowstorm, nothing but a white haze and a lot of useless powder to sift through.

    "You've... iiiindicated, to me at least, that you've come to some sort of independent realisation of what I intend," you start haltingly, searching Abzu's face intently for some sign that this is getting through. "But it's important I know for sure. Do you understand that I intend to establish a polyamorous relationship with everyone living here you've already met at also one whom I'm not sure when he'll get here but hopefully soon?"

    [Of course I do] Abzu signs. [But thank you for checking :)]

    "Right. I see." You pause. "So- so what I mean by that is that- well if we were to-"

    [You want to make sure I don't think this means we're special] Abzu heads you off. [So I don't get upset and feel like you lied to me when you made the poly thing official.]

    "... yes that's what I meant."

    Abzu leans up and gently bonks you on the tip of the snout with their sign. When they draw their hand back there's new writing on it. [You're cute when you're shy.]

    "I am not shy I am a dragon and quite frankly even the implication that- fuck it," you grumble, all the hot air you'd just puffed yourself up with escaping in a single instant of apathy. You take another deep breath. "Yes, Abzu. I'd... like to try, with you."

    [:3] And somehow that featureless white-blob-eyed face manages to look entirely unwholesome. Your mind is suddenly filled with visions of how Abzu might have amassed the experience necessary to be so brazen with their desires, the things they must be capable of, and a stab of panic hits you in the stomach.

    "Oh but yes before!" you blurt out. "Before. We do anything, I should mention. My wing still hasn't completely healed so there may be certain difficulties not exacerbating that injury depending on what you have planned."

    [Shhhhhhhh] Abzu signs, leaning forward and up to tap one gloved finger against your lips. [I'll take care of that no problem :3]

    You notice a small puddle spreading out around Abzu from beneath the hem of their many-layered robe. A near-perfect circle of gleaming darkness, thick and viscous and flowing precisely as fast and as far as the diminutive wizard commands. And before your eyes four identical pairs of tentacles slowly extrude out from the mirror-still surface, smooth and sleek and almost gleaming. You swallow, loudly - you're a grown dragon, you're not sheltered enough to not know what tentacles are capable of, but it's still quite another thing to see such appendages make the leap from the page to real life. Your eyes go wide, pulse quickening to double-time in your chest.

    "You can't really mean...?" you ask, trailing off uncertainly.

    [They can take your weight] Abzu signs earnestly. [I handle lab equipment with these all the time] [Trust me :)]

    You wiggle your jaw left and right, contemplatively gnawing at your bottom lip with the top row of your jagged fangs. The tentacles approach but only slowly, giving you more than ample time to speak up. You stare at them, eyes darting between each wetly-glistening pseudopod, and almost absurdly the first thing that springs to mind is that they don't seem... predatory. The movements have more of a serpentine curiosity to them, bluntly rounded heads bonking into your armoured scales and going with the grain, tracing the planes of the muscles beneath, testing how you react. You almost feel ashamed once it finally sinks in properly - they're just extensions of Abzu. Not some lewd spell summoning a portal from the Smut Dimension like the magazines you've dabbled in collecting. It's Abzu. It's Abzu and... you trust Abzu.

    You shut your eyes and nod. You can't see what Abzu signs next, if anything, but that's the point. You need to move this along without giving yourself a chance to have second, third and fourth thoughts or you'll be here all night and all day. The tentacles slither across your body and begin to slowly, methodically loop one apiece around your limbs, winding all the way from shoulder to wrist and hip to ankle like warm, sleek ropes. You stick your tail out behind you and plant the tip against the floor, slowly and experimentally shifting your weight off your feet, leaning back and back and back and...

    ... off your feet completely. Even the weight pressing down on your tail seems only token. You hesitantly open your eyes and it's real. You're hanging suspended in the air, back curved and knees bent in a sort of sloped seated position. It's the most comfortable you've ever felt in your life without there being gold involved and mildly terrifying at the same time. You lock eyes with Abzu and they're doing that mouthless smirk you're getting to know very well.

    [Told you I could lift you~]

    "I didn't doubt you!" you protest convincingly. "I'm only... still new at this, is all."

    [Well that's what gathering data's for :3] Abzu steps forward and the puddle follows them like an oily shadow, keeping pace perfectly as they stride shamelessly between your spreadeagled legs and into kissing range. [And I plan to get very... intimate with your body~]

    "(hhhah), what, do you plan to take notes? Old-fashioned, pen and notebook?" you remark, trying to bury your nerves beneath smart remarks.

    Abzu delicately plucks the glove from their right hand with their left. The hand beneath is no great shock compared to the rest of them, smooth and fluid and indistinct but plenty mortal-shaped. They twiddle their fingers then flex the hand all at once and the gooey substance seems to harden, calcifying into a set of wickedly-curved obsidian talons that put even yours to shame. Abzu slowly lowers those gleaming weapons to your chest and draaaaaaags them down from sternum to stomach and- and you feel it, dull and muted by your scales as it may be.

    [Yep] they sign with their free hand. [Got a problem with that? ;3]

    "mm-mm," you reply verbosely, shaking your head.

    [Then let's begin testing <3]

    It's thrilling and terrifying. It's tense and relaxing. You can't stop thinking and yet not a coherent word seems to come to mind. Four of the tentacles keep you steady, softly cradled in their grip, while the other four explore your body with entirely amorous intent. From your throat to your chest, to your stomach to your tail, from your hips to the soles of your feet, Abzu tests everything and jots down your reactions in their little notebook. They note the increased sensitivity just above where your spine and tail join. The response to the inner thigh. The way you shiver unconsciously when one of the tentacles loosely coils around your throat unthinkingly. It should feel cold, clinical, it should kill the mood but Abzu keeps looking at you, looking you in the eye and they just look so thrilled to be with you, to see you reacting like this. Can they feel through the tentacles properly? You should ask. Another time. When the blood is flowing to your brain rather than elsewhere.

    It's not so much a line being crossed when one finally slips inside you so much as a natural escalation. The next step of a slope so smooth that you almost don't realise what's happening at first. You silently thank every god you can think of that you thought to lose your virginity to Belial first because even with your previous experience it's hard to process. Your breathing grows ragged, your chest rising and falling in shuddery fits and starts, your jaw clamped tight to stifle the more embarrassing noises as Abzu tenderly explores you. It's familiar but it couldn't be more different. There's a pressure but it barely hurts, there's barely friction. There's something unspoken between you, a rhythm that Abzu's slowly attuning to. The tempo steadily grows faster but you can handle it, your heart's pounding but it isn't from fear any more. Your own breath grows louder and louder in your ears, your jaw growing slacker with every passing moment.

    [You're doing so great :)] you see on Abzu's sign in one of the rare moments you can focus and somehow that makes you shiver all on its own. You're moving with it now, hesitantly at first but growing bolder as you test the strength of your bonds and find them sufficient at every turn. You almost laugh, a half-hysterical giggle turning to an embarrassed moan halfway through. You practically throw your head back, panting up a storm.

    Something slithers down your throat like a snake and your body turns itself upside down. Your eyes fly open and your throat constricts around it in a mad spasm, your next breath cut off midway through into a straw-thin sip. You choke, gagging, eyes wide and staring with sudden fear as you stare down at the tentacle embedded past your lips. You- you shouldn't be reacting like this but it's different this time, you don't know how or why or why you can't control yourself but it's slipping away, you're slipping into raw panic and every second without breath is only making it worse. Your whole body convulses as you try to retch up the tentacle and finally, finally after what can only have been seconds at most but feels like a lifetime, Abzu notices.

    "hrrrkkkGGUHHH" you retch as they yank it free in one savage tug, fresh air flooding your lungs. You greedily suck down more air, heart thumping savagely against the inside of your chest as you try to set your whirling thoughts straight - you land on the floor with a soft bump, the tentacles must've set you down at some point? You're free and you can breathe again and there's Abzu, feverishly flashing a sign per second in your face.

    [I'm sorry] [I didn't think] [I just thought] [from what I saw I] all flash past, too fast to read properly, even the words themselves are a sloppy scrawl compared to their usually neat and refined 'handwriting'. They're thinking and 'talking' faster than the spell can keep up and they know it. They screw their eyes tightly shut in little white squiggles of anger and frustration and hurl the last sign to the floor.

    They plough into you with a soft thump and hug you as tight as they can. Their arms wrap tight around your midsection and squeeze, squeeze hard enough that even you can feel it. You move before you can even think and you hug them back. You hug just as tight and even if the fluid beneath their robes gives a semi-dangerous ripple in response you can't bring yourself to pry your arms away.

    Seconds tick by in silence. Trickling on into minutes. They can't say anything and you don't say anything. You just hold them close, that silly oversized wizard hat brim bent against your right horn and barely clinging onto their head, your jaw on their shoulder. You don't feel a heartbeat but yours is going fast enough for the two of you.

    You feel... you don't know how you feel. Strange. Uncertain. Confused. You dig your claws in tight and hope it doesn't hurt them. They don't complain.

    In the silence you feel yourself slowly calm. Your breathing deepens, evens out. The rise and fall of your chest grows less ragged.

    The manic tempo of your heartbeat slowly trickles away like water through a little hole - a drop here, a drop there, two drops, three...

    Slower, slower.

    You feel...

    You feel better now.

    You feel better and safer and you hate yourself for losing your mind like that and upsetting Abzu when you know just as well as they must that you could've handled that if you'd just been able to control yourself.

    Abzu gently taps your shoulder twice. You remember suddenly that they can't actually talk to you if you can't see their hands. You force your vice-like grip on the wizard to ease and gently pull away, claws lingering on their shoulders as they pull back and meet your gaze. The hat is barely holding on but that seems to be the least of their concerns. Their eyes flick away once, just a moment to gather their thoughts, and then they meet your gaze once more with sign in hand.

    [I got carried away] they say, 'handwriting' neat and legible once more. [I got so excited seeing how happy you were that I jumped ahead] [I thought since you swallowed that staff just fine today you could handle it but] [That's no excuse. I should have asked you. Warned you at least] [I'm sorry, Eldingar]

    They pause, studying your face intently. Your eyes are still burning. Your body had to go and completely humiliate you in front of one of your new partners while it had the opportunity and you probably still have tears in your eyes like some little drakeling.

    [It wasn't your fault.] [Please don't be sad, you didn't do anything wrong]

    You take a deep breath through your nose. It's not a sniffle. A sniffle is the last thing you need right now. Abzu snags one of your claws in their free hand and squeezes tight, tight as they can. Soft and semisolid and warm.

    [Do you feel okay?]

    You nod. You don't really trust your words right now. Abzu seems to know the feeling.

    [You don't want to go sleep it off?]

    You shake your head.

    [You're sure?] Abzu squeezes a little tighter. [You won't upset me if you want to go to bed. Try another time when we're both] [Well, calmed down]

    You shake your head.

    [Was that a 'no you're not sure' or?]

    You bury your face in both hands with a dry smack. A moment later Abzu slips underneath to hug you again. You gingerly pull your hands away and wrap them around the wizard.

    You could... you could get used to this. This hugging business.

    They pull back and sit on their haunches and you copy them. Their hat is just completely askew by this point, barely holding on by their horns. You reach out and carefully tug it back down into its proper place, nice and snug on the gooey wizard's head.

    "(There,)" you say hoarsely, as if you hadn't used your voice in a week.

    [:)]

    Silence falls again. You don't mind the silence when you're with Abzu, not really. You've always thought of yourself as the peace-and-quiet sort of dragon but there's a subtle difference between when you're alone and when you're with them. It's easier to focus here, when it's like this. It's quieter in your head.

    [I hope this doesn't sound crass] Abzu signs, [but I feel like I should ask]

    "Mm?"

    [Do you want to try again?] [Less... adventurous than last time I mean] [Slow and steady. Promise.]

    You fold your hands in your lap and think about it. Think about how it felt, how they made you feel, all those hard-to-catch thoughts that were roiling around in your head.

    "... can they be tighter next time, please?" you ask shyly.

    Abzu leans in and you don't pull away. They press their smooth, near-blank face against the tip of your snout and you feel something. A subtle impression, not lips but a temporary facsimile, just good enough and just long enough to feel like a kiss. Abzu rocks back on their haunches and you can tell from their eyes before they even raise the sign that they're smiling.

    [Sure thing :)]

    Abzu walks you back to your hoard afterwards. They plant a faux-'kiss' on your lips as one more parting gift and leave you to your recuperation, flashing one last sign to the effect of [and thank you for the lovely evening <3]. You can scarcely manage your own slurred "seeyou" before you faint dead away into some of the deepest sleep you can remember having in decades. So deep that you don't even dream of Belial. You simply close your eyes and a minute later you're opening them blearily, squinting up at the daylight filtering in through the flight-access cave.

    You let out a soft, contented sigh and sink back down into your gold, loose and relaxed and contented as a cat lying by a fireplace. It's many minutes before you even think to flex out your wing, cautiously testing its range of movement. Bolder and bolder you grow and not a twinge to answer - it's finally healed! Never in your life have you felt so happy to lose an excuse to stay in the spire. You streeeeetch out, stropping your claws on gold and stone in equal measure, tail flickering out like a massive scaly flail crossed with a battering ram. Seized by a sudden anxiety you whip your head around to check behind you, but no recently-smacked boyfriend meets your eyes. You sigh with relief and sink down once more.

    Abzu must have returned to the tower by now. Datu can't be here yet, you'd definitely know if someone like him were here. Especially with the sorts of people already here he'd have to be talking to. So... what're you supposed to do today?

    What are you supposed to do today?

    You slowly burrow your head into your gold past the horns and groan into your glittering tomb, raking more treasure over your neck with your foreclaws to get yourself well and truly buried. Maybe if you dig deep enough you can hide from the weight of responsibility slowly descending on you like a set of woven lead blankets. Are you supposed to just awkwardly hang around waiting for Datu? Try and make conversation with everyone else here? Try to get some work done?

    Gods now there's this weight in your gut too. Are you making the wrong choice? Is your reach exceeding your grasp here? Sure Belial said it was a decent idea but he doesn't really know you, he's not perfect, he can be wrong about things. Should you have just picked someone and been grateful?

    Oh fuck and there's the entertainment thing in all this excitement you completely forgot to even think about it for days let alone work at it. Kill you. Someone please kill you. Fucking map. Fucking Takara. Fucking Mother. Fucking Nana. Okay maybe not Nana she's okay.

    With a great deal of reluctance you worm your head back out of the pile, loose coins trickling between your horns and across your brow as you straighten up. You should... do. Something. Something to perk you up. Something to distract you from the mounting frustration that the happy buzz you got from your date with Abzu didn't stick around like it damn well should have. This is the problem with peace and quiet, it means you start thinking.

    Quick you should just... pick something. Before you drive yourself mad.

    [ ] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
    --[ ] Work around the spire. Count your gold, tidy up, go move furniture around, housekeeping-type things. It's not glamourous but it's yours dammit and things that are yours deserve proper upkeep.
    --[ ] Stretch your healed wing and go for a flight. Try to get a nice glide going, catch some bolts while you're out there, maybe catch something fresh to gnaw on.
    [ ] Go spend time with one of the others. It hasn't gone wrong yet, right?
    --[ ] Makram. Okay this will almost definitely make your mood worse.
    --[ ] Jun-ho. Safe bet, but he's got his own Abzu-like energy, and what if you can't keep up?
    --[ ] Belial. He's pretty nonthreatening, right? Mrgh but then you'll be distracted the whole time trying to work out if you should tell him about the screwup with Abzu last night or not.
    --[ ] Issachar. He's a perceptive guy, maybe he can help. On the other hand he's a perceptive guy, he might just drag it out of you and make you feel worse. It's 50/50 with that guy.
    --[ ] Abzu. Nah, they've had plenty of you for the time being and they're probably hard at work on something.
    --[ ] Lyrros. Well he'll probably be exhausting and now you're starting to have serious second thoughts about leaving him alone to unpack and decorate his room to his liking while you went off with Abzu even if you sent a message via the familiar to explain and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
    [ ] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
    --[ ] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGH
    --[ ] Make up a fresh disguise, one that isn't transparent, and go do other things for a while. Buy things, eat, maybe collect your treasure from the guild hall if it's in yet, try to scout out some entertainers willing to perform in front of a pack of dragons... which may take a while.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Aug 3, 2018 at 2:36 PM, finished with 3101 posts and 17 votes.
    • [X] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
      --[X] Stretch your healed wing and go for a flight. Try to get a nice glide going, catch some bolts while you're out there, maybe catch something fresh to gnaw on.
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGH
      [X] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
      --[X] Work around the spire. Count your gold, tidy up, go move furniture around, housekeeping-type things. It's not glamourous but it's yours dammit and things that are yours deserve proper upkeep.
      [X] Go spend time with one of the others. It hasn't gone wrong yet, right?
      --[X] Lyrros. Well he'll probably be exhausting and now you're starting to have serious second thoughts about leaving him alone to unpack and decorate his room to his liking while you went off with Abzu even if you sent a message via the familiar to explain and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Make up a fresh disguise, one that isn't transparent, and go do other things for a while. Buy things, eat, maybe collect your treasure from the guild hall if it's in yet, try to scout out some entertainers willing to perform in front of a pack of dragons... which may take a while.
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGHL
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Aug 9, 2018 at 7:09 AM, finished with 51 posts and 19 votes.
    • [X] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
      --[X] Stretch your healed wing and go for a flight. Try to get a nice glide going, catch some bolts while you're out there, maybe catch something fresh to gnaw on.
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGH
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Make up a fresh disguise, one that isn't transparent, and go do other things for a while. Buy things, eat, maybe collect your treasure from the guild hall if it's in yet, try to scout out some entertainers willing to perform in front of a pack of dragons... which may take a while.
      [X] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
      --[X] Work around the spire. Count your gold, tidy up, go move furniture around, housekeeping-type things. It's not glamourous but it's yours dammit and things that are yours deserve proper upkeep.
      [X] Go spend time with one of the others. It hasn't gone wrong yet, right?
      --[X] Lyrros. Well he'll probably be exhausting and now you're starting to have serious second thoughts about leaving him alone to unpack and decorate his room to his liking while you went off with Abzu even if you sent a message via the familiar to explain and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGHL
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Aug 9, 2018 at 7:10 AM, finished with 51 posts and 19 votes.
    • [X] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
      --[X] Stretch your healed wing and go for a flight. Try to get a nice glide going, catch some bolts while you're out there, maybe catch something fresh to gnaw on.
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGH
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Make up a fresh disguise, one that isn't transparent, and go do other things for a while. Buy things, eat, maybe collect your treasure from the guild hall if it's in yet, try to scout out some entertainers willing to perform in front of a pack of dragons... which may take a while.
      [X] Just pick something to do alone that'll get you up and moving.
      --[X] Work around the spire. Count your gold, tidy up, go move furniture around, housekeeping-type things. It's not glamourous but it's yours dammit and things that are yours deserve proper upkeep.
      [X] Go spend time with one of the others. It hasn't gone wrong yet, right?
      --[X] Lyrros. Well he'll probably be exhausting and now you're starting to have serious second thoughts about leaving him alone to unpack and decorate his room to his liking while you went off with Abzu even if you sent a message via the familiar to explain and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
      [X] Go to town. Söfnun's good, it's full of things to do and spend money on but nobody bothers you needing things all the time unless you're in your Lord Elding guise. And Mother's happy to just sit around in her penthouse so you won't run into her. Probably.
      --[X] Check in with Amina. The house is probably going fine again but you like to look at the logbooks. Lots of numbers representing wealth going up is almost as good as the real thing. Just a shame about... being the town laughingstock because everyone knew who you were the entire time and just let you keep making a fool of yourselfAUGHL
    Click to expand...
     
    Last edited:
  • View discussion
    • Interlude Four - Cooling Down
  • View content
    • Inn, tavern, alehouse, pub, bar, club; they all had their own subtle differences in definition, their own pictures to paint in the mind's eye, but to Xiomara they all blended together as if vigorously mixed into one big vaguely brown stew. Muted laughter, the orange flicker of fireplaces or lamps, the duller orange-golden glow of electric bulbs in the fancier places, a comfortable smoky haze and the soothing sensation of something vaguely edible being slowly shovelled in her mouth.

    The car was gone, sold the moment she found someone willing to buy something that hot. The families of Cyranax's many victims pooled what little they had, wouldn't take 'no' for an answer no matter how many times she said it. Throw it all in the pot, stir well. Drink it. Eat it. Forget the world, just for one night. She was maybe a day south from the capital and the bar she found herself in was one of the nicer ones - varnished bartop, padded leather upholstery, music, held the heat well, couple rooms upstairs just in case, and a nice long mirror behind the bar so you could check just how far along you were. Xiomara's reflection stared back at her as sober as ever, face framed by a mane of silver-white hair long enough that she had to start sweeping it off seats before she sat down. She was dressed well enough she supposed; a lightly-padded leather jacket, gloves and long-sleeved undershirt, sturdy trousers and boots, the sort of thing she could throw her real armour over at a moment's notice without seeming too out of place.

    Not that she was a stranger to seeming out of place. The hair alone was enough. The longer it got the quicker she was recognised, the louder it seemed to cry out 'This is Xiomara, the invincible dragonslayer! Come gawk at her, she probably won't bite!'. There was one little throng of people in particular that just couldn't get their eyes off her. Their table was at the other end of the room but she could still hear them, half-slurred stage-whispers pricking at her ear like darts. Couple dwarves and two humans, all guys, muttering among themselves about her. Goading and coaxing and betting to see who would be brave enough to get up and approach. Eagerly speculating about the move she'd go for in response - the silent treatment or the ball-crush? Rip out the stool and beat him with it? A more classic chokeslam and slide down the bartop? Xiomara silently caught the bartender's attention, motioning for a refill of her pint, munching on her food in the meantime. Something thin and fried that just seemed to shatter between her teeth and burst across her tongue, salty and spicy and sweet. Mostly spicy. Concerningly so.

    She stared into her reflection's eyes. They were still talking. It was a sound, once attuned, you could never really escape. You could bury your head under a pillow, plug your ears, but still some morbid part of your mind would seek it out, wouldn't it? Some kind of instinct. They got something approaching a hint and lowered their voices but Xiomara's ears only sharpened to match. She heard it all as they switched tracks to more standard gossip. Has she had anyone? Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Does she even like that? Oh haven't you heard? They say her crusade started on her wedding day. Dragon came and snapped up her husband just like that. She strode up to its lair right then and there, blood still fresh on her wedding dress, and wrestled it into submission herself. Where was this? Who cares where it was? That mean she's been searching for love all this time? Good luck mate, you'd probably snap off the second she flexed.

    Her new pint came. She tipped her head back and drank, and drank, and drank, and drank. The bitter amber beer flowed as easy as water, giving the bartender pause if only for a moment before he turned away. She set the empty glass down with a hollow thunk and turned her head. She looked at the far table and they saw her looking.

    One by one the voices fell silent. Someone slapped the human on the shoulder to make him shut up and look. Half a dozen pairs of eyes stared at Xiomare and she stared back, expressionless, unblinking, unwavering. She wondered if this was how snakes felt, prey frozen in fear dead in their sights, waiting in muted terror for the first move to be made. Xiomara looked away, staring back at the mirror as she crunched on another spicy snack.

    It didn't bother her. She disliked it and wished it would stop, but any more than that she couldn't say. She searched her reflection for some sign of anger, of sadness, of discomfort or melancholy, and found nothing at all.

    "Hey."

    Xiomara started out of her reverie to find a woman standing right in front of her, behind the bar. She blinked twice, glancing left and right for the mystery person that this woman was obviously addressing instead. Or the male bartender who had just vanished.

    "Uh." Her voice was rough and low, battleworn and ill-used. "Can I help you?"

    "Why so formal?" the woman asked. "Don't get much conversation usually?"

    "... no," Xiomara admitted with a soft chuckle. "No I... don't, I suppose. I'm sorry, who are you?"

    "I work here." The woman idly jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Bartender needed to step out, I'm taking over. And in my opinion he's been neglecting his duties as said bartender leaving you all on your lonesome. So how about it, want some company tonight?"

    Xiomara exhaled, a half-scoff of bewilderment, a single crease forming on her brow. "You're a bold one, I'll give you that." She paused, her gaze sliding away from the woman's face unfocused as she considered the offer. The far table was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

    "I'd like that," she finished. "You have me at a disadvantage Miss...?"

    "Jamila," the woman replied. She leaned down, elbow propped up on the bar and chin in one hand. "So is this how you usually unwind after an adventure?"

    "Yeah, pretty much."

    "Ever do anything more special?"

    Xiomara blinked. Her brow furrowed slightly. "No, not really," she replied at last. "I have simple needs, I suppose. Happy enough to have a place to sit and breathe." The corner of her mouth quirked up ever-so-slightly. "Even I don't have the energy to be a hero 24/7."

    Jamila chuckled. "You just need time to be you, nothing weird about that." She flicked her head in the direction of the far table. "Those guys sure seem to think you're still The Invincible Dragonslayer tonight, though."

    Xiomara shrugged. "I can't control what people think of me."

    "Yeah. Question's almost whether it's a 'you being Xiomara herself' thing or just a 'tough boys feeling threatened by tough girls existing' thing," Jamila remarked. Xiomara's gaze dropped, her slight frown deepening. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rub it in or anything," she quickly added apologetically. "I guess I only meant to bring it up to say that I really... don't know if it's the right word but I guess I admire it in you."

    "You barely know me," Xiomara pointed out.

    "That's what I'm fixing right now," she replied with a smirk.

    Xiomara returned the smile, however slight. "So what about you, Jamila? What is it you get up to when you're not taking over for busy bartenders?"

    "The usual aside, vocal exercises mostly," she replied. "Training to use my voice for something a little more glamorous than 'what're you having tonight?'. Singing, that sort of thing."

    "Oh was that-?" Xiomara asked, half-turning towards the source of the music she had long since tuned out. Jamila chuckled and waved her hand.

    "No that's just a gramophone," she explained. "Boss picked up a few records down at the market and we run 'em in order every night. Only gets annoying if you're a regular or you work here, hah. Y'know I heard they're working on this new thing, I think they're calling it radio? It's where you record music or voices like you would with a gramophone but instead of going on the big plate instead it gets beamed through the air -probably magic who knows with these things- and anyone with a receiver can listen to it."

    "Sounds pretty impressive," said Xiomara.

    "There's already a buzz about people using that to put on plays so you can stay home and listen to them rather than having to go out to the theatre. I suppose it's not really the same thing if you can't see it but hey. Girl's got to have a dream right? Having a whole country hear you when you perform's a good one."

    Xiomara smiled slightly. "Yeah. I'd say that's a pretty good one." She glanced down at her empty pint pensively, as if mulling over whether it would be a bit of a faux pas to ask for a refill mid-conversation. She left it empty. "Life's tricky. I'm sure you didn't plan on being here, but neither did I, hah. I planned on being a housewife, can you believe that? Ever since I was small - I was one of those kids. Had my dream wedding all planned out in my head. But now... here I am." She shrugged again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is if the world could surprise me like that, I think it can surprise you too. Don't give up yet."

    Jamila smiled, letting her hand drift down from her cheek to the bartop. "Sweet of you to say," she said, and there was a single flutter somewhere in Xiomara's chest. "Speaking of plans, what're yours for the next while? Once you're done here for the night, what then?"

    "I..." Xiomara stared down at the varnished wood. "... I don't know," she admitted. "I never think that far ahead." A short pause, the silence heavy. "I'm glad you were brave enough to come talk to me. Not normally one for conversation at the best of times. This was- this is nice."

    Jamila looked down at Xiomara and Xiomara looked back at her. There was something different in the air, something imperceptible that made her cast her eyes across the woman's face afresh. Baked deep brown, short frizzy hair only a few shades lighter than black with eyes to match, and a smile as bright as anything. There was a second flutter, like a rogue beat in the heart's natural rhythm.

    "Anywhere lined up to stay tonight? Upstairs?"

    She nodded cautiously. "Yeah, upstairs. Why?"

    Jamila just looked at her. Xiomara's eyes widened.

    "Oh."

    Everything started blending together again. She wasn't sure if they'd stayed there by the bar for hours or only minutes. Why had she said yes, what had possessed her to ever say yes? Her pulse was quickening, a languid stroll slowly breaking out into a loping jog, growing closer and closer to a flat-out run. She was no blushing virgin being led by the hand but still it seemed as if she blinked and there they were, together in her brand new room, all alone with the rest of the night to themselves. What words they exchanged were low and hushed, as if for fear of shattering something intangible.

    "Have you ever done this before?"

    "Only a handful of times. I'm not one to brag. You?"

    "Not... with a woman."

    Jamila was undressing but Xiomara wasn't even looking. She was too busy staring down at herself, at her own fumbling fingers as she fought with her clothes. She tugged the glove from her left hand almost without thinking and froze, waiting for the almost inevitable questions. Jamila said nothing, only slipping around behind Xiomara to help her out of her jacket. Another flutter.

    "Please, let me keep the shirt on, it's a lot to explain-"

    They kissed. They kissed and when Xiomara closed her eyes it made her feel... something. Something that made her almost eagerly stumble back towards the bed, loosely wrapping her arms around Jamila's waist and dragging her along for the ride. Taking a heavy seat, mattress creaking and groaning beneath their combined weight. Fingers curled, digging into the soft skin before Xiomara controlled herself. Jamila cradling the back of her head, fingers wound through the veritable mane of wavy silver-white hair, her free hand thrust so far up the back of her shirt that the hem rode up to the midriff. The kiss broke and she finally let out the breath she'd been furtively holding, ragged and alive around the edges.

    "Do you think we need the blankets?" Jamila asked, concerned.

    "Why? The- oh." Xiomara glanced down, contritely snatching her prosthetic hand away from the small of Jamila's back. "I'm sorry, it'll warm up as we-"

    "No, no that." Jamila pressed her hand flatter against Xiomara's back, shifting it up and down and all around as if to prove to herself it wasn't just her imagination. "You must be freezing, how can you stand it? Are you sure you're alright?"

    The fluttering stopped. Her racing pulse dropped back down to 'normal' like a stone, whatever it was she was feeling only moments before congealing and icing over in her stomach. Even her movements stilled. Xiomara looked away.

    "... Xiomara?" Jamila asked.

    "I have to go."

    "Xiom-"

    "This was a mistake, I'm sorry."

    She was distant, she was even formal, but she wasn't cruel. When she rose and shifted Jamila's weight from her lap she took the utmost care, setting her down on the edge of the bed before she turned on her heel and set about gathering up her clothes with all due haste. It was halfway through before she realised that Jamila was talking, that she shouldn't be so cruel as to leave without another word.

    "I-" Her fingers were fumbling with the jacket. Cold and clumsy and numb, it took two or three tries per button, drawing it tighter and tighter around her. She turned her head only slightly, just enough to glimpse Jamila out of the corner of her eye. "It wasn't you. Do you believe me when I say it wasn't your fault?"

    "That... that depends. What's wrong? Will you at least tell me that?"

    She shook her head slightly. "I can't. I can't... understand it myself. So how could I ever expect to make someone else?"

    She let out a long, slow breath, ragged and frayed just around the edges. Thin, barely-visible wisps of white vapour flickered before her lips.

    "I'm sorry," she said again. "I meant- it doesn't matter. I won't need the room tonight. Keep my fee for the trouble."

    "Xiomara?"

    And that was the end of it. The door opened and closed, and Xiomara was headed down the stairs and out into the street. She was headed out of town, out of Jamila's life, probably for good. Leaving the kind waitress with a story to tell about her own personal run-in with the dragonslayer herself. Maybe she'd tell it on the 'radio' someday.

    It was a cold night to be out all alone. Xiomara didn't feel a thing.
     
    Last edited:
  • View discussion
    • Chapter Forty-Five: No Matter How You Look At It, It's Your Own Fault Things Got This Far
  • View content
    • Flying. Flying's good. It's been too long since you've had a chance to be up in the air and catch some bolts, it'll do you some good.

    You cast one last guilty look around just in case someone comes bursting in to tell you something important, then take off with a great downbeat of your wings and worm your way out the upper exit. You're free and clear into a wonderfully dark and stormy morning, beating your wings hard to gain altitude as you circle around your spire and head south across the wastelands.

    It takes a bit to find a good strike but that's fine. It's something to focus on, your whole mind occupied as you scan the cloud layer above with eyes like a hawk for the first telltale rumblings. Bobbing and weaving and tracing figure-eights in the sky above the farms far below with your massive body, intercepting jagged bolts of pure power for a far better cause. Crackling arcs roll down your scaly body, sinking into the myriad conduits buried beneath the skin, cool and refreshing as a gulp of fresh water. You wheel around again and set off at an easy glide, great outstretched wings catching the invisible updrafts to keep you flying lazily along.

    It takes a good long while for you to realise you're just unconsciously going to Söfnun like you always do. You smack yourself in the face with one enormous foreclaw. It's fine, you don't normally fly for the sake of flying, old habits are hard to break. This direction's plenty fine you'll just... follow the coast south like you did with Jun-ho and see what you can see. Or don't, nobody's the boss of you right now. A few harder beats at the air and you rise above the clouds, breaching the surface of a fluffy white sea and soaring high into the pristine blue sky. The sun beats down on you harder than it's ever shone anywhere in Arosa, shimmering and glinting off your scales. You do a few lazy aileron rolls to sun yourself evenly and sail on, trailing talons skimming the top layers off the fluffy cotton cloud what seems like only inches below.

    You're probably past Söfnun now, past the threat of people pointing up at the sky and screaming, but you feel no great hurry to dip back down. It's peaceful up here, no one to bother you but the clouds and the sun. Now that you're paying attention you notice even your underbelly is being warmed nicely, the sun's white glare reflecting off the unbroken blanket below. You give a happy rumble and glide with your eyes closed, letting out a long and satisfied exhale.

    You're wasting time.

    The thought sinks into your skull like a poison dart, too small to hurt on its own but you can't dislodge it no matter how hard you furrow your brow. You physically shake your head. It's fine. It doesn't bother you.

    You're wasting time and Datu's going to show up while you're out farting about in the clouds.

    He might show up while you're out he might not but he'll understand having to wait a little while if you're out.

    Lyrros is probably already upset with you leaving him all alone to move in, imagine how Datu will feel finding out you didn't even bother to wait for him?

    You scratch-scratch-scratch at your scaly brow, claws like boarding-hooks digging deep into unbreakable scales with five synchronised metallic shrieks. You're being foolish. It's foolish to think like this, right? Right. You're a dragon, you're a dragon. You can take as much personal time as you think you damn well deserve, especially when you've been so-

    You've been busier than you've ever been in your life ever since you found that map and you still mostly do nothing all day. You turn in early, you sleep in late, and now you're out cloudwatching with five-soon-to-be-six boyfriends back home and one more in a tower that need attention and Jun-ho's not even happy with how the other day went and who can blame him and-

    And- and fuck you never- you never got around to telling Makram about the marid what if Datu's already back and showing that off and it's offending Makram because it's like waving around a corpse on a pike? You want to believe it won't immediately escalate but can you? Can you really?

    You're losing altitude but you don't care. You reach up with both foreclaws and just yank at your own horns like loose teeth, trying to fixate on the dull fang-in-gum sensation of them tugging at your skull as you sink into the white fog. As if you could pull hard enough to pop them out completely, let the poison cloud drain out through the twin holes and into the clouds where it won't bother anyone any more. Pop them back in and fly off, none the worse for wear.

    You haven't even started working on the entertainment for Nana Illvithri's party. Mother could call on you for a progress report any day now, and she'll know if you're lying. And how long could it take to find someone not only willing to step into a dragon's den but up on stage in one? Weeks? Months? How many interviews? How much money? You should've started already, you should have a dozen interviews a day already booked so you know it can be done before your time is up but you haven't and you don't because part of you just assumed Lyrros could do it but you haven't even asked him or done much to make him feel at home and you didn't want to feel exactly like this.

    You wheel around and break free of the clouds, swooping down low to the jagged coastline as you follow it back north. You're sweating, little sparks of electricity crackling and popping off your horns, your talons, chaining between your wing joints as the conduits below the surface flicker. This was a mistake. You're needed back home. You haven't been gone long yet, you'll be fine if you head straight back. You just have to dive right back into that spire and get to work organising things and making sure everyone's settled and preparing for Datu and...

    and...

    It feels like a wagonload of anvils being upended across your shoulders. You've made a commitment to having seven boyfriends-and-other when you can barely keep track of one properly. Belial made polyamory sound so much easier than having a harem but it doesn't feel particularly 'easy' right now. It's like their faces are swimming in front of you, their wants and needs and gripes and creature comforts getting jumbled and melding into one-another or fading out of focus completely. Are you going to have to keep a logbook of your boyfriends or something?

    You couldn't even hold onto the map. You couldn't even hold onto the map. Takara waltzed right in and took it and even claimed credit for it and they knew you wouldn't pursue them just like they knew who you were under your disguise because you're-

    because you-

    need some air.

    Lower-altitude air.

    You bank left and go into a dive, trying to shake off the poison cloud trailing close behind. The wind rushes over you, half-visible as it ripples over the slopes and planes of your massive form. You start shifting down, droplets of drizzle fizzing off your back with blue-white sparks of electricity, dipping below the cliff wall of the bay and skimming the sea in your bipedal form. Söfnun is none the wiser to your approach as you suddenly curl your body back, flaring your wings out wide and soaring straight back up towards the sky. The lighthouse looms out of the rainy mist before you, a slick and salt-encrusted white spike driven into the sea wall's southern foot, the massive brazier cold and dead behind the thick sheets of warped glass. You alight on the iron roof with a loud metallic thunk, toe-talons clicking like heavy hailstones as you find your balance. Your heart is racing in your chest and you don't- okay you know why but you wish it wouldn't.

    You stand there for a moment, perched like a perplexed gargoyle that doesn't know where it's supposed to be sitting. Unsure what your plan was, why you picked the lighthouse of all places. You settle for folding your wings around your shoulders and sitting down with another loud thunk and wrapping your arms around your knees. Your tail hangs over the edge like a stunned snake.

    A key turns in a lock somewhere below you. A door opens. "Oi!" a rough, probably orcish voice calls up at you. "What's the big idea? I told you kids-"

    "Fuckoff" you snarl.

    "... (alright mate you're going through something right now i get it i'll leave ya to it)" the lighthouse-keeper replies, the mumble fading from earshot as he shuts and locks the door right back up again. You hug your knees tighter and stare out at the blurry line of the horizon where grey skies meet greyer seas, stitched together by a few white-hot bolts of lightning, if only for a few moments. You can't feel the fine mist of water falling - if it turns into proper rain you'll be the last to know.

    It started out like a normal day. Buying curios like you always do. How did it end up like this? Mother obviously but not just her. You did a few things too. You just wish you knew what you did wrong. More specifically than 'everything' that is. The silent sea is staggeringly unhelpful.

    There's a rush of displaced air and burst of dry heat behind you. You don't have to turn to know who it is, but he speaks and removes all doubt a moment later anyway.

    "Master a tattooed hooligan with an allergy for shirts just climbed the cliffs to speak with you," Makram says without a trace of irony. "He says he was expected...?"

    The ifrit trails off. You stare resolutely ahead, not so much flinching as bracing. Silently daring him to say something, to do his worst. It's his Thing, right? If he thinks long and hard you're sure he can dredge up something sufficiently devastating. You aren't in the mood to talk, he has plenty of time.

    Makram sighs softly. What sounds like a violent gust of wind passes through the space right behind you, followed by the muted splash of bare feet on waterslick metal.

    "What is it?" he asks.

    "How did you find me?" you ask.

    "I'd make a pretty poor djinn if I couldn't find my own master in short order," he replies, a touch irritated. "Let alone somewhere in or around the one place he goes that isn't his own home. Go on then. I am sworn by the terms of your ownership of my lamp to ease your burdens and make your every wish my command, telling me what's upset you is the least of your privileges."

    He's sure changed his tune. Like it'd just be that easy, right? Like you could just say 'of course Makram how could I be so silly' and suddenly blurt out nearly a century's worth of Things in your head that have been slowly building up and tangling and twisting and ingrowing with each other until even you can't separate them properly? Hah, now that really would be a miracle.

    ... but then again... he is a djinn. Djinns grant wishes. And you still have two left.

    Could that really be it? Are you willing to stake one of your two remaining wishes on it? It's no certain thing but surely even the chance makes it worth the risk, right? You need a miracle and the miracle salesman has come knocking.

    [ ] Wish for Makram to conjure up suitable entertainment for the party. That's probably within his power, right? He got you the wine easily enough.
    [ ] Wish for Makram to be the entertainment. The way he likes to boast, maybe he'd relish the challenge of a wholly draconic audience?
    [ ] Wish for wealth. Enough wealth to buy whoever you want whenever you want for the stupid party, to renovate your spire a hundred times over. Enough wealth to feel okay again, if only for a little while.
    [ ] Wish for the map back. Abzu said it points to what you want, what you need. That sounds pretty appealing right about now.
    [ ] Wish that you knew what to do. How to handle the relationship situation, how to handle the party situation, how to handle the Takara situation, how to handle... all of it.
    [ ] Wish that everything were back the way it was. You didn't have seven romantically-inclined partners to please, you didn't have the party situation bearing down on you, you weren't the secret laughingstock of Söfnun, and things were just... simple.
    [ ] Wish for nothing. With your track record you'd probably fuck that up too. Come up with something to make Makram leave you alone.
    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Aug 11, 2018 at 4:31 AM, finished with 42 posts and 27 votes.
    • [x] Wish that you knew what to do. How to handle the relationship situation, how to handle the party situation, how to handle the Takara situation, how to handle... all of it.
      [X] Wish for the map back. Abzu said it points to what you want, what you need. That sounds pretty appealing right about now.
      [X] Wish for wealth. Enough wealth to buy whoever you want whenever you want for the stupid party, to renovate your spire a hundred times over. Enough wealth to feel okay again, if only for a little while.
      [x] Wish for Makram to conjure up suitable entertainment for the party. That's probably within his power, right? He got you the wine easily enough.
      [X] Wish for nothing. With your track record you'd probably fuck that up too. Come up with something to make Makram leave you alone.
      [x] Wish that you knew what to do. How to handle the relationship situation, how to handle the party situation, how to handle the Takara situation, how to handle... all of it.
      -[X] Tell Makram about the other djinn.
    Click to expand...

    Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Aug 13, 2018 at 3:50 AM, finished with 52 posts and 32 votes.
    Click to expand...
     
    Last edited:
  • View discussion
    • View content
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top