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TDM 009: I'M IN LIKE WITH YOU
| TDM 009: I'M IN LIKE WITH YOU |
00. Arrival This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. I. STARGAZER On the first night that new arrivals wash ashore, the moon rises. It's full and beautiful and surrounded by stars. The robots quickly bring old, dusty telescopes out of storage and line them up on the beach to help people get a truly spectacular view. "Look to the heavens! Behold, the chicken, the cat, the owl, the donkey!" It's... the cock, the pussy, the hooters, and the ass. For the rest of the night, characters will become fixated on the specific asset associated with the constellation they've gotten an eyeful of. Whether this leads to some body worship or just casual appreciation is up to you. You can learn about the stars and constellations later this month in some of the rare, non-pornographic books in the library. (More info will go up soon, so please be patient!) II. STIMULATING CONVERSATION An ancient courting ritual has been announced! It involves the give-and-take of candy hearts with slogans printed on them. Of course, since these hearts are being manufactured by robots, their sense of taste is a little... off? Or perhaps off-putting? "You'll do." "5/10." "Acceptable." "Sloppy Seconds." Receiving a negative heart makes one feel insecure, jealous, and submissive. "Be mine." "Nicest ass." "Swell bulge." "They're good lays, Bront." Receiving a positive heart will make one feel confident, boastful, and dominant. Your friendly neighborhood 'bots will give them out to anyone who asks - and maybe even those who don't. III. Eat Or Dare The robots have set up a stall by the beach with a banner that reads: Eat Or Dare. They have procured bigger candy hearts than ever before -- fist-sized and larger -- with actions written on them instead of derogatory slogans. "Take a dive." "Lick me." "Get handsy." The name of the game is to follow the instructions or forfeit the challenge by making the evidence disappear into your mouth. Delicious! Those who eat the candy hearts will feel themselves getting giddy and unreasonably invested in the love affairs of others. They will feel compelled to play matchmaker to spread the cheer. N A V I G A T I O N |
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[ She notices, of course, that his eyes drop down to her chest. She's used to men (and even some women) staring at her breasts, but Linhardt has never given her that sort of bedroom eyes before--only the "I'm sleepy so I'm going to take a nap" sort. She almost teases him, asking if he likes something he sees, but he speaks up before she can.
Smiling at him almost sheepishly, she shakes her head. ]
No, I'm fit as a fiddle, honestly. Just... I suppose my head feels a little fuzzy.
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Yes and no. The stars would be similar if we were on Dagda, Almyra, or anywhere else on our world. The interesting thing is that the stars aren't even recognizable. That means we have to be very far away. In fact...
[ His voice trails off as he attempts some rudimentary math in his head. Linhardt doesn't know how far away the stars are exactly, but the numbers he comes up with... there's no way they can be right. Can they? He shakes his head. ]
Besides, just because the automatons told us we were somewhere else didn't mean they were telling the truth.
[But back to the matter at hand. Dorothea's head feels fuzzy. Linhardt 'hmms' and reaches a hand out to touch her forehead. No fever. And there's also the fact that his head too, feels fuzzy. Much harder to work with numbers than usual, and he's had Dorothea and her assets around him plenty of times. ]
Well, you don't have a fever. And I must confess, I also feel fuzzy. Distracted. My mind seems to be more interested in people's attractiveness than its usual interests; is it the same with you?
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Still, if they were in any of Fódlan's neighboring countries, it's as he said: the stars would have recognizable patterns to them, rather than the completely random designs they see now. The Almyrans might have different names for the constellations, but they're still the same shapes. That's really all the proof Dorothea needs to believe they're not in
KansasFódlan anymore. ]They could have lied, but I'm inclined to believe them.
[ Then Linhardt hums and presses his hand to her forehead, and Dorothea's eyebrows arch questioningly. People's attractiveness...? She almost asks if this is the first time that Lin has noticed that she is, in fact, an attractive woman, but some things are better left unknown. Instead, she gives a half-nod, shrugging her shoulder. ]
I suppose you could put it that way. It feels more like... certain features keep drawing my eye, more than they normally would.
Poor Linhardt; he has a 16th century understanding of the world and he's frustrated
Yes, I do as well. Though they refused to allow me to disassemble them, which is quite rude. I am willing to assist them, they could at least return the favor.
Certain features. Yes.
[Linhardt considers this.]
I am finding I am paying more attention to breasts and buttocks than usual.
[This statement is punctuated with another glance at Dorothea's chest, though his tone is clinical. As a Healer, he's had to become used to disregarding propriety and teaching his soldiers to do the same: An embarrassed soldier is an alive soldier.]
My attraction is normally more tactile than visual, and my favorite aspects of my partners tend to be their hands or backs. Which features are catching your attention? Do they differ from which ones you ordinarily pay attention to? I have a theory.
[Of course he has a theory. He's Linhardt.]
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I'm getting mixed signals here. You're saying you find my 'features' more attractive than normal but you're looking at me like I'm a bug under a magnifying glass.
[ She knows she's avoided this sort of thing up to this point because she has no unique crest for him to fuss over. The reasonable part of her mind is telling her not to get upset about it, this is just how Linhardt's brain works. He doesn't mean anything by it--he's just trying to figure out a puzzle, and the fact that she's a piece of it is incidental. Even so, it wounds her pride a little to be treated this way now.
Sighing, she rubs her temples, trying to focus as she resigns herself to going along with whatever theory he's formulating. ]
Fine, fine. My eyes keep being drawn down to people's chests, even when there's not much there. It's not like I never look at them normally, but a person's eyes and their smile are usually what draw me in.
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Linhardt frowns.]
I don't know why you're upset. Oh, and I never said I found you 'more' attractive now.
[Linhardt shakes his head. Though that is an interesting question: Are they attracted to features that they otherwise wouldn't be or people as well?]
It would be more accurate to say the level of attraction is the same, but normally I find the way you move your hands, your voice, and your eyes much more attractive than your breasts.
[He nods when her information confirms his theory.]
I think that since our hosts want people to engage in intimate acts, it makes sense they would remove barriers to such. Different preferences are one such barrier. For that matter, so is restraint, which would explain why I feel the need to act instead of noticing your beauty, appreciating it, and returning my attention to what you're saying as I do in ordinary circumstances.
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I'm sorry, Lin, I... misunderstood. I guess I'm just a little on edge with the situation being what it is.
[ Her hand alights briefly on his shoulder, a gesture meant to show friendship and solidarity. It takes a lot of restraint on her part not to lay her palm over his beating heart. ]
It's good--for the best, even--that you're trying to figure these things out, and I'll help however I can, all right?
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He smiles again when Dorothea's hand touches his shoulder.]
Ugh, you're coming close to expecting things of me, aren't you? I am going to go find a place to nap before I end up propositioning someone who will stab me, or worse, try to talk to me. Would you like to come with me? If not, please observe your condition throughout the evening and let me know of anything interesting - changes in target or strength, for example, or if you end up with someone, does that lessen the compulsion?
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I wouldn't dream of it, even though I know how reliable you are in a pinch. It can be our little secret, all right?
[ And in even more classic Lin fashion, he's talking about sleep again. For once, Dorothea kind of agrees. ]
You know, a nap actually doesn't sound so bad. I've staked out an apartment for myself, and it's nothing fancy, but if you don't have anywhere else to go you can rest there.
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Well, imagine if I weren't reliable. It would just cause more work for me later. Besides, I don't want anything to happen to you or to hurt you. I have no patience or motivation for trivialities. You are not a triviliality.
[Linhardt isn't sentimental, but he feels that the oddity of the situation bears an emphasis that they are friends and he does care about her wellbeing. That is why he's agreed to attach himself to a military in the first place.
Another smile, this one wider. Linhardt doesn't care if people approve of him or not, but that doesn't mean he doesn't find it nice when people validate him.]
That sounds delightful. I'll be quite glad for a bed. Oh, and pillows. Do you have pillows? I miss pillows. And blankets. I miss my Sreng blanket. It was so soft.
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[ She shrugs. ]
I'm not opposed. This isn't Fodlan and I doubt anyone here will care what I do. It's kind of a nice change of pace, in that regard, at least.
[ Waving her hand back towards the city, Dorothea then loops her arm through the crook of Linhardt's elbow so they can walk arm-in-arm together. ]
There are barracks, too, but there's no privacy to be had there. I'd rather have a place of my own, even if it's shabby.
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I am also not opposed. I would rather be intimate than fight.
[At least intimacy was pleasurable.]
You really should care less about what people say; there is certainly gossip about my bedding habits in Fodlan, but I can't say it enters into my decisions.
[A barracks? Ew. Linhardt wrinkles his nose, in full agreement.]
Yes, privacy is desirable. I doubt I would be able to sleep or do any research in a barracks.
[Just the idea of everybody being able to move his things makes Linhardt want to break out into hives. He values his privacy; there's a reason he thinks Bernadetta has the right idea sometimes. Speaking of small mercies, at least she's not here.]
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Lin. Darling. You know I love you, but you can't just go giving me advice as if our positions in society are the same. Before the war started, did you ever have to wonder if you'd find a place to sleep when you wanted to take a nap? Did you even consider that your next meal might not be ready and waiting for you when you decided you felt like eating? That was my entire reality, every moment of every day, for the first thirteen years of my life. I couldn't study, because I was slowly starving to death or suffering from exposure, not to mention the times I was beaten or kicked by the nobles of Enbarr for having the audacity to ask for a copper coin.
I don't have a family, or an estate, or a crest, or any of the things that might give me security in spite of a questionable reputation. I have nothing to fall back on. I'm glad for you, that you're able to brush it off so easily--really, I am. But I can't.
[ Dorothea falls silent after that, their mood of their pleasant walk dampened. She doesn't enjoy talking about her past, though she finds it coming up more often than she would wish. She'd be less frustrated if Linhardt wasn't so brilliant, but she knows he's smart enough to put the pieces together. The broad strokes of her story are common knowledge at Garreg Mach, and they have been since their academy days, but his brain is too full of beautiful things like math and science to have much room for the plight of a peasant.
Clearing her throat, she holds her head high, tossing her hair once like nothing in the world could possibly bother her. This isn't the place or time to be getting emotional. Time to change the subject. ]
Anyway, speaking of food, someone told me that the free meals here are usually drugged to loosen people up, so be careful of what you eat.
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And that's what he does now, walking beside his friend quietly, mulling over her words and their implications. He knows Dorothea was an orphan who was discovered by Mittelfrank, but Linhardt has to admit he hadn't considered what that meant for her experiences. He generally finds contemplating the activities of daily life excruciatingly boring, but what Dorothea says makes sense. ]
You're right. It is practical in that circumstance to consider the opinions of others. I did not consider personal circumstances as much as I should. So it would be more accurate of me to say that I hope for a future where you can have security without those things.
We owe you an apology.
[He does not clarify who 'we' is, and Linhardt allows for the change in topic; he is feeling uncomfortable and while he does not blame Dorothea for it in the least, it is a feeling that makes him seize on any opportunity to focus on something else. Anything else.
Besides. Wait. Drugged? Linhardt gives her a horrified look.]
That's disgusting.
[Another situation to work on. So much work.]
I may be able to render it into a proper meal, but I will need to experiment first.
[Perhaps a modified Restoration would work... but Linhardt would need to know the exact effects.]
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She squeezes his arm to show she's not really mad at him. She's not sure who else he's lumping in with his apology, but she'll take it. Maybe she'll find out who he means later, maybe not. Either way, for now, she is appeased.
His reaction to the food situation is a bit stronger than she'd expected, but she can get behind it because she agrees. ]
It is. That's why you've got to stay on your toes. We need to scope out the place, see if we can't find other sources of food.
[ At least she has some experience with that. She'll make sure they're both fed. Turning down a bend in the road, she gestures to the building ahead of them. ]
This is the place. The apartment I picked out is on the second floor.
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Yes. Fishing and hunting, most likely, assuming that the flora and fauna are recognizable and edible. And assuming they are not bespelled to have a similar effect.
[Well, isn't that a pleasant thought? But then again, people who have no problem drugging others who are reliant on them clearly lack morals. It's distressing. Of course nothing can be straight-forward, and of course here isn't good the way Linhardt thought it was. He sighs and gives Dorothea a pained look.]
I don't understand why they don't take people who want to be here. I would have said yes if they'd asked. None of this is necessary.
[Regardless, he'll feel better after a nap, so Linhardt is glad they're almost to Dorothea's quarters. The second floor, of course; the monastery placed her on the first floor. Not that it matters a whit to Linhardt.]
Wonderful, do lead the way.
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[ As if summoned by their conversation, a roving flock of white geese turns the corner and waddles by, honking as they pass. Dorothea freezes, watching curiously until they're gone before she leads the way into the building. That answers one question, at least. Geese are perfectly edible, not that she wants to attempt hunting one down now.
Instead she leads Linhardt into the building and over to the stairwell. Her choice of the second floor had more to do with utility than with a desire to make up for any perceived slight during her academy days. In an unknown environment, having a bit of height allows them to keep a lookout more effectively than they could from the ground level, but not so much that it would be difficult to retreat if their location were attacked.
The apartment itself is... unimpressive. She's cleaned it up to the best of her ability, but there are obvious signs of disuse still all around. The one bed is big enough for two people, if they don't mind cozying up to one another, but it's nothing to write home about. ]
Here we are. Hovel sweet hovel. Better than the street by a long shot, if you ask me.
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[Ugh. Geese. Linhardt is generally neutral on the subject of animals, but geese are an animal he's not particularly fond of. They have Hubert's temperament and Ferdinand's enthusiasm, and it is, in Linhardt's opinion, a terrible combination.
Ugh. Stairs. He follows Dorothea up the stairs, not bothering to pretend he's not staring at her backside. It gives him some motivation to climb, if nothing else.
It's true Linhardt has stayed in much nicer places. It is also true that Linhardt has slept outside and in war camps, so he's not particularly picky.]
Agreed. At least we're inside and we have some privacy.
[And there's a bed. Bed, sweet bed. Linhardt sighs with contentment and reaches his arms over his head to stretch. True to Dorothea's warning, however, there were no pillows or blankets. Not that it has ever stopped Linhardt from napping before; he has excellent improvised bedding creation skills.
Without warning or heedless of what it might look like, Linhardt starts unbuttoning his overcoat, unclipping his broach and shrugging it off followed by his vest and undershirt, then leaning down to unbuckle his boots and slide them off, leaving him clad only in his pants. Hmm. He considers his options. If they're sharing the bed, then heat shouldn't be an issue. Linhardt picks up the clothing and starts folding it, eventually producing two awkward bundles of cloth that could serve as makeshift pillows. He offers one to Dorothea, eyes only straying a moment before he controls himself enough to look her in the eye.
Oh. That reminds him. He never asked.]
Why did you avoid eye contact earlier?
[That was why he'd been curious enough to start a conversation, after all.]
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Which means that, again, she doesn't register his question until half a second after he's asked it. ]
Wh--oh. I...
[ Oh Goddess. She sighs, hating that she's going to have to explain this now. ]
I wasn't trying to avoid eye contact, Lin. I was looking at you. At... your body, I mean. I can't seem to help myself.
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I don't mind you looking. I like it, actually.
[He enjoys being looked at. Linhardt puts effort into his appearance: caring for his hair, commissioning outerwear to work with his eyes and his hair, the use of a crisp white to offset the color and draw attention to his skin. He knows what he's doing. He likes being looked at and examined.
Linhardt gives her an encouraging smile.]
Is this a completely new attraction?
[He isn't going to be offended by either answer; it just might make a difference how the spell(?) actually worked.]
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No, not exactly. I always thought you were attractive, Lin. It's just that if I'm going to stare at someone's chest, it's usually someone who has... more there, if you understand my meaning.
[ She steps forward, extending her hand, but she pauses. ]
May I?
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I do understand, yes.
[Oh, that's interesting. She's blushing. That's rare. Linhardt takes her answer with his usual stride and answers by reaching out and guiding Dorothea's hand to his chest, pressing her open palm to his skin above his heart. Oh. Being touched is more intense than it usually is. His breath hitches in his throat. Breathe, Linhardt. Air is necessary for life to continue.]
Of course.
[The contact also makes his own desire to touch flare in his mind. It's disorienting, invigorating, and interesting all at once. Linhardt reaches his own hand up, hovering it over her shoulder.]
Am I permitted to return the favor?
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The blush on her cheeks darkens at his question, but she nods. It only seems fair, and the prospect of being touched by him wouldn’t have been an unpleasant one even without their questionable circumstances.
Mirroring his earlier motion, she takes his hand and guides it first to the spot where he’ll feel her heart hammering away under her ribs, but moves it farther down to the soft flesh of her breast. There are a few layers of silk between his palm and her skin, but the contact still makes her hum softly with enjoyment. She chuckles in soft amusement. ]
How’s this?
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This is exquisite.
[It's the only word that suffices, really, to describe the layers of enjoyment Linhardt is experiencing. His body is certainly happy, each movement of Dorothea's fingers sending a distractingly brain-emptying pulse of warmth from his heart to his groin, and the moments in between are a swirl of curiosity being satisfied, of seeing a friend express happiness due to his actions, and of, well...fixated lust. Just three of his favorite experiences, happening simultaneously. All that is missing is a good feeling of restedness.
Despite his respectful approach, there's nothing tentative or shy in Linhardt's explorations; his fingers and hand straying outward and making strokes of various pressures, eyes watching Dorothea closely to learn what she likes, which motions will elicit more smiles and pleased sounds.
He learns so much, touching her. Where she holds tension, how she stands... what Linhardt does next would be considered a waste of magic by some. The mage summons his healing magic, his hand glowing with a faint blue warmth that seeps into Dorothea's rib muscles, gently easing the tension and knots out of them and allowing them to relax.]
You really are remarkable.
[It's true he doesn't pester Dorothea as much as he does some of their comrades, but Linhardt knows that interest to his research and worthiness as a person are not the same. (Why would he be assisting Edelgard if he believed otherwise?)]
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By all rights, she shouldn't be feeling so sensitive after what amounts to a bit of light petting. Linhardt is thorough in his examination, sure, but she's still fully clothed. Maybe it's due to the fact that they're at the end of a very long, very strange day. That or the drugged food.
But Lin has to take things further, filling his hands with warm healing magic and pouring it into her tense body. The release of that tension is so abrupt that she sinks forward until her weight is leaning up against him, trembling noticeably.
Clearing her throat softly, she offers a suggestion. ]
Let's sit down, hmm? And, maybe...
[ As they sit, Dorothea seems to briefly debate her next move, but the debate is shortlived. Taking his hand again, she pulls him in a little closer, guiding it to the silver clasp at her back that holds her corset in place. It falls off in a whisper of silver fabric. ]
That's better.
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