[X] Yes. He'll do nicely as entertainment for a night. And things work out, he could be useful later.
[X] Seek out someone else you talked to at the ball:
- [X] Yasmine
[X] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
I'm terribly sorry Rena, but we're all very infatuated with the girl you don't like. It seems you'll have to improve someone's lot in life, or possibly induct her into a mad Wyld cult to work blasphemous sorcery on her.
I would have just had it happen, but I didn't want to fiat it. I want to leave the responsibility for initiating Rena's flings in the hands of the playerbase. I'm giving you the choice. She can say "no".
Quite apart from avoiding ick of forcing a sexual encounter on the playerbase, it touches on an important theme to Rena's character. With so much of her life, she could just... not be quite so Rena about things. So much of what she's done has been fundamentally her choice. She's had her justifications, but in the end, it was her choice to do what she did. And who she does.
Quite apart from avoiding ick of forcing a sexual encounter on the playerbase, it touches on an important theme to Rena's character. With so much of her life, she could just... not be quite so Rena about things. So much of what she's done has been fundamentally her choice. She's had her justifications, but in the end, it was her choice to do what she did. And who she does.
Are you... implying that a lot of the bad things that have happened to her might not have happened if she had done things differently and are in fact the result of her own bad decisions?
I would have just had it happen, but I didn't want to fiat it. I want to leave the responsibility for initiating Rena's flings in the hands of the playerbase. I'm giving you the choice. She can say "no".
Quite apart from avoiding ick of forcing a sexual encounter on the playerbase, it touches on an important theme to Rena's character. With so much of her life, she could just... not be quite so Rena about things. So much of what she's done has been fundamentally her choice. She's had her justifications, but in the end, it was her choice to do what she did. And who she does.
I like this, what Rena has experienced up to the start of the quest are a result of her decisions. She didn't have to consort with fey princes, nor did she have to turn her lands into a predatory playground for her and her consorts. She had a choice.
I wonder, given that we are making choices for her, would that mean Rena could eventually grow to acknowledge her role in her own demise and, maybe, grow to become a less awful person? Cause, the Sorceress-Queen of Cazhor is very much who she could have become if she had remained up North and it appears that makes her uncomfortable.
I like this, what Rena has experienced up to the start of the quest are a result of her decisions. She didn't have to consort with fey princes, nor did she have to turn her lands into a predatory playground for her and her consorts. She had a choice.
I wonder, given that we are making choices for her, would that mean Rena could eventually grow to acknowledge her role in her own demise and, maybe, grow to become a less awful person? Cause, the Sorceress-Queen of Cazhor is very much who she could have become if she had remained up North and it appears that makes her uncomfortable.
>implying rena did anything wrong and that it's not the rest of the world that's at fault here
Jokes aside, I imagine "make Rena a somewhat less terrible human being" should be a possible path here, even if it's going to go against a lot of her natural inclinations at first.
Though we'd need to, you know, start taking the options that don't have us consort with fae and other such things and--wait who am I kidding that's not going to happen
I wonder, given that we are making choices for her, would that mean Rena could eventually grow to acknowledge her role in her own demise and, maybe, grow to become a less awful person? Cause, the Sorceress-Queen of Cazhor is very much who she could have become if she had remained up North and it appears that makes her uncomfortable.
Jokes aside, I imagine "make Rena a somewhat less terrible human being" should be a possible path here, even if it's going to go against a lot of her natural inclinations at first.
[X] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
[X] Explore the fortress of the Kinzara jansi.
[ ] No. While you wanted to get laid tonight, you're not interested in him or being seen to side with his family - and because you're tipsy, you say as much.
... meh, is Rena so incapable of subtlety just because she's lightly inebriated? Shooing off unwanted suitors should be second nature to her, with Solar level proficiency
[X] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
[X] Girl-talk with Sadia, and see what you can pick up from her.
I want to see her relationship with the Wyld. What does she think, what does she feel, when she looks out at her element? Empowered? At home? Frightened? Eager? What does the Wyld mean to her, what memories does it bring up, why is she the way she is?
I was tempted to explore the fortress because I love exploring ancient fortresses, but this really doesn't play towards Rena's strengths. She's a social character, so let's find things out by talking to people. And Sadia is the best choice for that.
I'm less interested in dueling culture. I'm sure it'll happen eventually, but I'm in no rush. Let's make some friends before we start making enemies.
... meh, is Rena so incapable of subtlety just because she's lightly inebriated? Shooing off unwanted suitors should be second nature to her, with Solar level proficiency
Fiiiine
[X] Yes. He'll do nicely as entertainment for a night. And things work out, he could be useful later
[X] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
[X] Explore the fortress of the Kinzara jansi.
[X] No. While you wanted to get laid tonight, you're not interested in him or being seen to side with his family - and because you're tipsy, you say as much.
[X] Explore the fortress of the Kinzara jansi.
[X] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
So I don't think the No vote is going to win, but I want to explain my rationale for this and put it up anyway, because it's relevant going forward too.
Rena is someone who ultimately just takes from people. I think that her impulsiveness speaks to a sort of contradiction of urges, in that she goes through a lot of mental gymnastics (and a lot of dick and drugs honestly) to avoid having to think about herself in any negative terms, but I think one of the things of being a pulp fantasy villain is that even the funny, horny actions are ultimately reinforcing Rena's patterns of solipsism and her practiced lack of empathy. So while saying no obviously is a vote based from reasons of self-preservation too, I think it's worth noting that just fucking every guy who looks even passingly interested isn't really great when we string them all along with the implicit promise of something more that will literally never happen. I think that the more we feed that behavior, the more it's eventually going to blow up in Rena's face - and I think the less we do it the more we're going to see Rena strain against her own coping mechanisms.
The other stuff is pretty straightforward: I want to go spelunking and explore this fucked up The Shining-ass sandblasted fortress that's got all kinds of delicious Gothic weirdness probably just waiting, and I want to dig more into Rena's fascination with the wyld and the weird things it spits up.
So while saying no obviously is a vote based from reasons of self-preservation too, I think it's worth noting that just fucking every guy who looks even passingly interested isn't really great when we string them all along with the implicit promise of something more that will literally never happen. I think that the more we feed that behavior, the more it's eventually going to blow up in Rena's face - and I think the less we do it the more we're going to see Rena strain against her own coping mechanisms.
The other stuff is pretty straightforward: I want to go spelunking and explore this fucked up The Shining-ass sandblasted fortress that's got all kinds of delicious Gothic weirdness probably just waiting, and I want to dig more into Rena's fascination with the wyld and the weird things it spits up.
This sounds pretty convincing to me. Besides, it could be funny to see Rena go out in the "bed me tonight" mask, get rejected, have someone show up at her door willing, and then reject him in turn and see her trying to explain it to Sei.
[X] No. While you wanted to get laid tonight, you're not interested in him or being seen to side with his family - and because you're tipsy, you say as much.
[x] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
[x] Seek out someone else you talked to at the ball:
- [x] Yasmine
[X] No. While you wanted to get laid tonight, you're not interested in him or being seen to side with his family - and because you're tipsy, you say as much.
[x] Find a viewing gallery for the wyldstorm and observe it.
[x] Seek out someone else you talked to at the ball:
- [x] Yasmine
Little sister was just too adorable! Aand let's see if No can win, shall we?
Once again, this chapter contains explicit sexual content. The most explicit content is placed within a spoiler box, and the narrative has hopefully been structured such nothing totally plot-vital occurs in the explicit content, serving instead as characterisation (ie, if you choose not to read it, the rest of the chapter should be comprehensible).
You let the door open fully, revealing you're only in your undergarments. And quite a sight you are, if you say so yourself. No, you're not quite as slim as you were in your twenties, but most of the weight has gone to your hips and chest. When you stand there, one hand on your hip, feet just placed so to draw attention to your curves, you're someone that jealous goddesses wish they looked like.
Your lips curl up into a smirk as he boggles at the sight of you.
"Come in, then," you say. "Go on. Respect me."
He swallows hard, adam's apple bouncing and lips slightly open as he inhales. What he can smell is you. Your wood-blood is blossoming in your eagerness, and under the pine and the flowers is something earthy and wet, like mountain valleys as the snow melts. Your eyes dip down. The kind of raw power that can turn a sapling into a standing oak.
"Well, uh, I mean, I had got the wine as an excuse to…" he babbles. Urgh. Men. Yes, he might have thought he was chasing a delicate hind when he was actually after a mountain lioness, but there's a saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth.
You grab him by the waist and yank him through the door. His bottle of wine falls but doesn't break on the rug. You don't pay it any attention as it rolls away.
"Gods, I've been trying to get laid all night. And you're the first one with the balls to actually just come over and say you want to fuck me," you growl, pushing him back into the door to close it. You slam it shut, and pin him by the wrists against the aged wood.
He tastes of wine when you kiss him. You lean into him, letting Haitham take your weight. He's warm and hard, and he pushes back, grinding up against you. The short curly hair on his partly-exposed chest tickles, but there's something harder under his shirt.
"You're amazing," he manages, when you pull back for air. "Your boobs are amazing."
"Of course they are, darling," you murmur.
"No, I mean it. They should use you as the model of statues of Lila. You're so much bigger than…"
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. So he's that kind of man, is he? No wonder he came knocking at your door. Whatever he was about to say is lost as you start to kiss your way down the side of his neck. Releasing his hands, you get to work on unbuttoning the remainder of his linen shirt. It's made more difficult as he pushes back against you, and you stagger into the side of the bookshelf, which groans under your weight. His leg is between your thighs and his hands are on your breasts, pawing at them.
But then he pulls down your bra so you spill out the top, rather than take it off properly. You bite your lip, but not for the reasons he thinks: now the damn fabric is biting into your back and shoulders. It's drawing your attention away from what he's doing as he licks his way down the curve of your armpit. You flex your shoulders, trying to adjust the sit of the too tight fabric, but that makes it worse. The strap slips off one shoulder but that just increases the tension on the other one.
"Wait just a teeny moment," you say through gritted teeth.
"Mmm?" He doesn't stop groping you, which isn't helping matters.
You stretch back around, and fumble at your back - argh, why is this so hard, you must be a little drunk because you never normally have problems with this! - until you get that damn clasp open. With a sigh of relief, you wiggle out of the bra, tossing it aside, and rub your shoulders. Ow! But you can breathe now without the straps digging into you
"Mmm!" He's not meeting your eyes. "What's wrong?"
You push back, slamming him back into the door with a thump. "Nothing," you purr as you work at the buttons on his shirt. The final button gives way as you give up fumbling with it and just tear it - you probably should care, but don't - and then he's squirming, getting his arms out of the sleeves. You discover he's got his right nipple pierced, and rub your thumb up against it. That's jade - not cheap.
"How fun," you say, amused, giving it a playful tug. "How did you get that?"
"Forfeit from a duel," he says sheepishly.
You were asking about where he got the jade, but you know what? That doesn't matter. Hands on his waist, you bear him down until he's sitting there, back against the door as you straddle his face. Your knees are against his shoulders, pinning his arms; all he can do is grasp your ankles. His kisses are butterfly wings against your thighs and stomach, and you hum in pleasure as you grind against his face. His warmth sinks through your underwear, and you coo softly with each bump.
Look at this prince of fallen Cahzor, this heir to great and expansive lands, this descendant of once-mighty legions whose dragon blood is too thin to make itself known. You don't love him. This is one night of pleasure, nothing more - and he is a tool for you to obtain it. Oh, other men here might brag of their accomplishments, their deeds, their great and vaunted histories - but Haitham doesn't have a thing to say. He doesn't even want you to stop.
He knows his place. Under you. Worshipping you. Venerating you. Adoring you.
"Oh, Haithy? Get to work."
The oil lamp burns low. You howl like the wind as you get your pleasure against his face. There are sounds of other people heading to bed, and they'll have heard that, even if they didn't hear the sounds of your bodies thumping against the door.
You don't care. It makes it better. He came to the Kinzara estate for a feast. And he got one.
The pair of you don't make it back to the bed on your first try. The pair of you collapse in a pile of intertwined limbs on the worn carpet. You taste yourself on his lips as you kiss him and he wriggles out of the rest of his clothes. Your underwear is still around one ankle, and you kick it away.
Therein follows a sloppy naked make-out session on the worn, threadbare rug. As he says, there's no need to rush. You're still riding the high from riding his face, so drunk fumbling with a guy you're currently feeling quite affably towards suits you well.
He's very warm against you, warm and somewhat fuzzy. His short black curly hair is cute, and you tell him as much as you teasingly run your fingers through it while your other hand plays with his hardening dick.
"Now," you murmur, stroking him up and down, "what are you into, hmm?"
His face is red and all he's wearing is a goofy, tipsy smile. "What do you want to do? Mmm. I'm good. Real good."
You grin back at him, an expression helped by where his fingers are right now. You rub your other hand against his thigh, feeling the hard curve of his hip bone as you work your way up. Muscle ripples under your fingertips as he takes shallow breaths. You've had a good feel of his ass, and it really is as nice as Sadia said it was. Up this close, you're wrapped in his smell; the meal, drinks, and the smell of a man who's spent time in Cahzori heat. Leaning in, you lick him from the navel to his throat, tasting the salt on his skin. He groans, and flops back onto the threadbare carpet.
Something stirs in your hazy mind, and you remember the rat traps and the dust and the general state of the floor of your room. Scrambling in a not entirely dignified manner, you flop onto the bed.
"W'z'matter?" he mumbles.
You prop yourself up on your elbows. "Come to bed, darling," you say, looking down at him, framed between your spread thighs. "The floor's all messy."
"Mmm?" He rolls over, and crawls towards you. He's like an animal on all fours, hair sweaty, lips wet from your kisses and from eating you out. His dick dangles down; the shadows play over his form.
"I'm just getting you into b-ah!" He starts kissing your foot, and you shiver. Argh! You're ticklish! "Stop that!"
"No!"
"I mean it!"
"Nuh uh!"
"Stop that or else… or else…" His wet kisses are working their way up your left leg, and you rest your right on his back. "Or else I'll make you do the rest!"
"Mmm..." He rests his head on your stomach, arms resting on your thighs. His head is so close! But he's not doing anything! "Sounds nice…"
You huff at Haitham, thumping him in the back with your heel. "Darling," you tell him firmly. "Either put that pretty little mouth or that handsome dick to use. I'm not your pillow."
He crawls up you, burrowing his face into your cleavage. "Could've fooled me," he says, grinning at you. His voice takes on a sing-song note that makes it clear he's reciting something. "Your pillows are things of wonder. Kings and gods should venture to sleep on them. They are the fruit of the gods fresh-fucked from the peachtrees of heaven, the melons that kind goddesses offer to lonely travellers, the…"
You grab him under the armpits and pull him closer so you can mash your lips against his and shut him up. He has you blushing! Blushing! Or possibly cringing. You're not really quite sure, because he's rubbing up against you and oh, now he's pushing into you. You wrap your legs around him, and give in to the fun.
The next morning, you wake to the sound of thunder. The room is a dull grey, barely lit by secondhand light. Beside you, Haitham sits bolt upright.
"Wazzat?" he says blearily.
There's an orange flash that's visible through the cracks in the shutters, then a heartbeat later comes another very loud boom.
"Urgh," you grumble. Your skull is pounding hard enough to almost distract from your aching body. The back of your throat tastes like vinegar, and you really need to wash your mouth out. It tastes like old coins. "'S just the wyldstorm."
"Oh." Haitham lowers himself back down. "Still going." Another flash, this time blue; another boom. "The gods must be fightin' them. If it's so loud. Probably," he stretches, yawns, and wraps an arm around your bare shoulder. "Probably won't pass today."
"Mmm hmm." You snuggle up to him, hooking your leg over his body as you rest your head on his chest. Idly, you start to pay with his jade nipple ring. "'M tired."
"Me too." He kisses you. "I never sleep well when there's one of these storms."
"Yeah." Your eyes are sandy. Maybe desert creatures came in and painted your lashes with the stuff of dreams. The covers are gone, the sheets are rumpled and damp, and the room stinks of sex. Working your mouth, you look around the room for anything to drink.
Hmm. His clothes are on the floor in the centre of the room. So is your bra. You're not exactly sure where your underwear is. You… you had it on when you answered the door. So it's somewhere in here. And… ah ha! There's the bottle! You roll out of bed, full of vim and vigour at the prospect of a new day.
"Ouch."
Okay, perhaps you shouldn't have been so vigorous.
"Are you okay?"
"'M fine!" you say indistinctly. You pull yourself upright, a shambling, sweaty thing. The two of you were sleeping naked, but Cahzor is hot and you're not in your lovely air-pump-cooled hotel suite. "What time is it?" you ask, refilling the oil lamp and lighting it.
"Dunno," Haitham contributes helpfully. He stretches out in the bed, hands behind his head, clearly admiring you. From the looks of things, he's already gearing up for another love-making session. "It feels like… maybe dawn? Maybe a bit later?"
You stoop down and pick up the bottle of dessert wine he brought with him last night as a bribe to get into your bed. A clear mark of your genius was that you slept with him before drinking it. That means you can drink it now! You break the wax seal on the bottle, make your way into the garderobe and wash out your mouth with wine. Fortunately, it's not a very good wine, so you don't feel bad about it. Too sweet.
Feeling more human, you grab two of the little cups sitting by the bronze mirror, and head back to bed. The cups go on the bedside table, and you sit yourself on Haitham's stomach and drink from the bottle.
He props up his knees for you to lean against. Isn't he a nice boy?
"This early?" he asks.
"Huh?"
"Nothing." He's staring up at you. Not at your face. Lower. "So. Mmm."
You're pretty sure what 'mmm' he's thinking of, because his 'mmm' is poking you in the back. "The weather's horrid, and," you take another swig, and swallow, "I don't have any plans. Why's it so hot so early?"
"It's Cahzor," he says, holding out his hand. You protectively shield the bottle. "Come on, at least let me pour one myself. I carried that heavy bottle all the way here."
"Fine," you relent, with poor grace. "But you better make it up to me."
The wyldstorm outside hasn't taken the edge off the heat, though the wind screams and thunder brays. The air is dry, but the madness in the air gives it a clinging feeling, like it's just about to rain. The ancient mansion of the Kinzara grumbles like a fat man's belly as the storm breaks in its walls. And the light that creeps in through the gaps in the padding that covers the window can't make up its mind what colour it wants to be; sometimes a soft violet, sometimes blues or greens.
Nothing natural. Of course it wouldn't be. The sun is the bane of chaos. You'll know when the wyldstorm is passing when you start getting normal sunlight.
In the end, you wind up spending an increasingly hot and sticky morning in bed with Haitham. You've both mostly sobered up, so he isn't such… ahem, an impatient archer who looses early, and you while away the hours with your wiles; making love slowly and lazily.
It's a selfish coupling, really. You're bored and can't head home to your poor lonely birdman - oh, you do hope Amigere isn't scared of the thunder. You needed something to do, and he fills the slot. And for his part, he's still effusive in his praise for you, and casually shares stories of former lovers from among the jansi. He's had quite a few, at least by his account - some of them married women.
"So, what happened with you and Sadia?" you ask, twisting your head back to glance at him as you spoon.
"Oh, I broke it off," he says, holding you tight while keeping up his lazy motions. "She's a good lay, but she's pushy and demanding. Plus, she doesn't have a large inheritance so my folks were against the engagement in the first place."
"She is a rather… mmm... gossipy bitch," you offer, seeing how he responds.
"Gods, don't I just know it? She has such a rotten personality. I… I mean, you'd expect it from her family, but she's vicious enough to work for the Demio. And that hag is just plain awful. Like attracts like, I reckon."
You chuckle. "Does no one in the jansi actually like each other?"
He kisses the back of your neck. "It's against our religion." He pulls back, and you roll over so you're resting your head on his chest. "I like you, though."
"Aww."
You're… not entirely satisfied. It's been fun, but not as fun as it could have been. And thinking about it, you think you can put your finger on it. You like obedient boys. It's a thing. It really does it for you, watching some handsome young man happily follow your every whim.
But Haitham isn't so much obedient as… mmm. Oh, he was an easy partner, but that's just it; he was easy. No real challenge to him. You had to lead with everything. He'll tell you if he doesn't want to do something, but won't really offer other suggestions. Or thrill you by taking the lead.
His finger traces the scar that runs down the centre of your body. "You've had a hard life to pick up so many wounds," he says.
You nod sadly. "Very hard," you say. "There are lots of horrible people out there."
Haitham brushes his lips against the scar on your left forearm, the one from the grim-eyed swordman. "They look good on you," he says.
"Flatterer."
"No, they do. They give you character. Much like your funny tattoos." He emphasises this by kissing the heads of the viper and the peacock.
They're not funny, you almost snap. But you're just too hot to get into a fight right now - and oh yes, you're not meant to tell people how much they mean to you. "Mmm."
"Y'know, Zorpondam is a warren of rats and treachery. The Demio's a mad old hag, and all kinds of cruel sorts pass through these trade routes." He shuffles along the bed, positioning himself between your legs. "'Snot a good place to stay."
You lift one leg up, offering him it to kiss. "Sounds like you have a suggestion."
He kisses up and down your foot, and you giggle from the frisson. "The Kas lands are the largest estate in Cahzor," he says, resting your calf on his shoulder. "We have holdings all the way from Zorthirstreet to Zordustry, bordering the Alilya lands. We have a goodly chunk of the old riverbed, and my personal estate covers several towns, with my mansion overlooking the Kasmi Tarn. It's away from the stench of the Little Nam." He runs his calloused hands up and down your calf. "I'd love to show you the wonders of Old Cahzor, Meira - and more than that."
"Oh, I don't know," you say, reaching out with your other foot to brush it against the curly hair on his chest. "I am paid up for the rest of the season here at the Cerulean Lotus."
"That place is wonderful, of course, but it grows dull after a week or two," he says. He swallows, no doubt because of the view of you he has. "Surely you'll be after a change."
"Hmm." There are possibilities there. You start to ponder them. If the Kas lands are that big, there's a good chance at least some of the markers on your jadescroll are located there. If you could get his family's permission to search there - in writing, in a contract you drew up to give you exclusive rights to anything you find - that might simplify matters a lot.
"And of course, you wouldn't need to just come as a guest." Haitham's eyes are bright. "You could come as my fiancée."
You blink, broken from your considerations of strategy. Did… did you hear him right?
He laughs boyishly. "Oh, I know it's all very sudden, but you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known." He kisses your ankle, unshaven face prickling against your skin. "You are a frozen rose, fresh from northern lands to bring such elegance that we have never known before. I truly do love you."
You… huh. Your mouth is not currently working. Are you dreaming? Has Sei eaten his soul and is wearing his body as a meatpuppet to pull some cruel prank on you again?
"Plus, it'd be awfully convenient. I'm second-in-line to the lands of the largest jansi. I could give you anything you desire. And if I bring home a dragon-child fiancée, my parents won't dare say no to such a powerful bride. They'll get out of our way and let us basically do what we want. It's a match made in the halls of the gods."
You pinch your thigh. That hurts. Fine. Yes. You are awake. And he doesn't look like a meat-puppet inhabited by your familiar. It's just you don't think you've been proposed to in quite these circumstances before. Usually men wait a little longer. And don't ask when you're in quite such a compromising position. They're usually more distracted.
He looks over at you eagerly. There are heavy bags under his eyes, and his upper body is littered with love bites. "Well, Meira, my beloved, queen of my heart; rose of the north. Be my bride. What do you say?"
Article:
Um. Wow. That Was Sudden. How Does Rena respond?
[ ] No. She didn't head into this one-night stand looking for a marriage, and she barely knows him. She wore the demon mask for a reason.
-[ ] Firmly. A young man like this needs firmness or he'll hear "No" as "Maybe".
-[ ] Gently. She doesn't want to hurt his feelings or make an enemy of him.
[ ] Lead him on. Keep him interested and hopeful and pliable, but with no intention of actually marrying him. It will mean cutting back on her other flirtations, though, or at least not getting caught. Basically the same thing, right?
[ ] Yes. Of course! Who could turn down such a handsome, wealthy man who's the second-in-line to a powerful jansi?
And What's Her Rationale For Her Choice She Doesn't Tell Him?
[ ] Optional write-in
The rationale vote will not be democratic. However, good justifications for her choice might open more doors (or not close off other doors). Plus, it's a way to persuade other voters.
