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Entry tags:
TDM 001
| TDM 001: TFLU |
 ( 1 ) After leaving the teleportation chamber, you are gently coaxed out of the hospital and encouraged to find a place to stay. Maybe you've had time to check out your A5 app. Maybe you're just settling in. It's cloudy, overcast, cold -- you'll want to seek out someplace warm. Also, your device is beeping. A lot. The tech on the island works, it just doesn't work right. You can't seem to send a message to the correct person. It's time for... Texts From Last Universe( 2 ) What's this? Your bingo card has just been beamed to a stranger's inbox...?! ( sample A5 cards -- NSFW, may contain triggering content, please feel free to use/ignore as you see fit) ( 3 ) And now you're receiving messages from other users that they don't remember sending: Nice shirt. It would look better on my floor. 10/10 would ride it into the sunset. This user thinks you're attractive. u up? 🍆 ( 4 ) Once you figure out that the robots have been hacking your devices, it's no easy feat to track one down and demand they stop. "So The Augur wills!" they wail in a monotone. "So it is done!" Any attempt to actually contact The Augur and get back into the hospital will be met with beefy robot bodyguards, who suggest taking a gentler approach to fix your devices. If you know what they mean. Wink. (This is your overt kink prompt. Please label any threads accordingly.) Note: All prompts are optional. The theme for this TDM is "malfunctioning devices." They can be fixed by indulging in the squares on your cards. For the sake of the TDM, you can use one of the pre-generated examples or a wildcard from the kink list. This can be used as a free bingo square completion once you have been accepted into the game. Players are welcome to wildcard their own TDM prompts; we only ask that you try to stick to the theme. N A V I G A T I O N |
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"To be honest, you look more like a Voidsent to me," she says, fixing her eyes on that tail of hers. "Creatures from home who rely entirely on instinct and do nothing except what feels good. So you might not be naturalized, but you could very well be a natural."
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Her tail swishes; each flick of the barb seems more intent than the last. Pandemonica's blood-red eyes don't dart away from Dolha's once.
"That is what you're referring to, yes? Demons, fiends, devils?"
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"Generally. Though very few of them are actually the kind who would do well here. Think big, bloated creatures with bony wings and blades for legs." She's taking a guess, but she doesn't have to guess very hard. Her head tilts in this other woman's direction. "Not like you. Not fazed for even a second by what's being asked of us and more than equipped to handle it."
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She is, isn't she? This human, or human-analogue, or whatever she is is trying to seduce her! And you see, this presents a special sort of problem right now. It's not that she's some common succubus, flipping her skirt for whatever distraction might tide her over for a few hours. She's not Modeus. But she is a sucker for a certain... hubris, and this young woman has enough of that to go around.
Ohhh, this is a problem. She might be fond of this little idiot. And she's off the clock - possibly permanently. Which means...
She smiles even wider, teeth bared between smirk and snarl, and lets her gloved fingers drum on the side of her skirt. "How sweet of you. I don't think a mortal's ever actually tried to flatter me before." Her hand rises up; her fingers gently prod at the fabric around E'dolha's neck, tugging it gently to recenter the collar. "Not without begging for their life at the same time, at least."
Her handiwork is finished. E'dolha's shirt is perfectly straight; each button traces a perfect trail down her body. But Pandemonica's fingers stay just a little longer, tracing the line of the Miqo'te's collar until one long claw snags to a stop on the next closed button.
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What gets her, then, is the claw against her skin, straining at the button of her shirt, threatening to shred it from the fabric. (And it hadn't exactly been cheap to acquire; had this woman seen the market board lately?) Yet something about this makes E'dolha think that if this demon knew exactly what she was lining up to destroy, it would only make her more eager. And something else, something below the waist, is making her think that she'd really like to see what's coming next.
Her eyes focus on the other woman's while her other senses focus on that claw. "I'm not the type to beg for what I want, dearheart," she says in a lower voice. "It's much easier to take it." Her hands move forward in emphasis and she holds on loosely to the demon's hips, her fingers bunching up the fabric of her skirt.
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But when E'dolha makes her move, laying her hands onto Pandemonica, there's a sharp and immediate change in the dynamic. The claw at E'dolha's collar digs forward, not down, a sharp but entirely shallow pain from its wicked tip; the gloved hand at her side snatches the Miqo'te's hand, a cruel grip with its pressure points exactly at each side of the woman's knuckles. Just a little bit of pressure, like this, and the joints would begin to stress; just a bit more, and...
There's no doubt E'dolha could struggle out of this. Pandemonica's grip isn't tight, yet; the claw has only barely penetrated the skin. And yet the casual way she applies just enough pressure to cause discomfort, the way her claw could tear straight down along the valley of her breasts - they request, none too politely, that E'dolha stay where she is.
"It is, isn't it?" Her voice is low, eager, beginning to toe that anticipatory line. "How efficient. How brutish. Surely a lady like you knows to only take what is offered?"
A small, near-imperceptible movement of her wrist; the claw, just barely punctured past skin, digs just a tiny bit further, a single red droplet running down the Miqo'te's chest. For a moment, Pandemonica stays perfectly still like this. Pale skin against bronze, red rivulet streaking down where black claws meet flesh... Oh, it's lovely. It's exquisite. It makes her want to skip the formalities altogether. She breathes in the scent of their encounter - island air, a faint feline scent, the familiar coppery tang - and lets out a delighted, shaky exhale.
"So, dear. What will you offer me?"
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No, the part that hurts most is when she's called brutish, and it's in ways that she won't be able to let this demon see. Not in the configuration they're in, not with what they're about to do with each other (if she can come up with the right answer), not while the two of them stand at each other's throats and the edge of metaphor.
"Show me your card," she says, the timbre of her voice wavering ever so slightly in the beginning, "And I'll mark off something you're missing. Something you doubt you'd get with anyone else."
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"Good girl."
Slowly, delicately, she pulls the claw out. It is a clean, elegant pierce, perfectly curved on both the insertion and the extraction; it does not rip or snag as it exits Dolha's chest. She brings the claw up, expecting her own handiwork before she takes a delicate lick of the smudged red. It is done less out of seduction and more out of curiosity.
As far as it'll look to Dolha, this matters less than she might think.
"Not the best offer," she says as she glances between her newly-clean finger and its handiwork, "but an acceptable start. We'll have time to work on that later." Her clean hand finally drops, reaching into her jacket's inside coat and pulling out her device. She quickly navigates to the A5, flipping it Dolha's way and dropping it in her hand. "Make your choice. Just don't make me wait."
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Though her brain is taking a moment to catch up, she grabs the device almost as a reflex and starts looking through the card for an answer to give. Not many of these seem very appealing, and from the way they've been acting so far, some of them may already be fulfilled. A lot of them. Her thoughts coming back to her, she gives that response instead of answering the actual question.
"You've already done eight or nine of these without even taking my shirt off. You will not do anything with my orientation," and she looks up with authority as though she's not bleeding from her chest, "Which leaves leashes, hair pulling, or an altered state of consciousness."
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"Leashes will do. I find your terms acceptable." She stretches her neck to each side, savoring the sharp crack that results, before continuing. "Now. Your first job is to brew me a cup of coffee. And..." And here she looks E'dolha over, clearly assessing something. "...probably a suitable leash too, provided you're attached to those clothes of yours."
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Her head bows, and with as much sincerity as she feels she can get away with, she says, "As you wish." And she takes a look around, trying to find something she sort of recognizes among the buildings around them no matter how fruitless that may be. But there's a sign reading "coffee" nearby, though it looks like it's seen better days, and that's her first destination.
"There," she says, tilting her head and taking the steps towards the run-down coffee shop that will hopefully still have enough to work with. "I'll be back." And her steps are measured and decisive, and the sway of her hips is probably helping to drive the point home that she's not running away.
From the loud banging noise that comes from the shop a few moments later, though, she might want to start. There's a lot to be said about trying to operate a coffee maker when one has never seen one at quite this level of tech before. There's more to be said about the same when technology seems cursed specifically underneath one's own touch. It takes longer than expected, but eventually the coffee does get made, and E'dolha lets out a breath.
She comes back with her tail only metaphorically between her legs, holding a mostly-warm cup of black bean juice that she's certain could be described as at least 70% coffee. With that same level of sincerity, she hands the cup over to the demon. "Your coffee, ma'am. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find a leash." Her life is strange. She's not walking away yet, though.
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She will admit to a growing irritation the longer her new toy goes missing, though - and especially once the sound of coffee failures reaches her ears. This is part of the process, of course. Anyone has a few growing pains when they take on a new job, right? (The fact that said growing pains usually aren't administered directly is irrelevant as far as she's concerned. She's a demon. It comes with the territory.)
By the time E'dolha makes it back, her smile is gone, replaced with an imperious grimace. She takes the coffee wordlessly, taking a sip... rolling it over her tongue... and swallowing with a look of utter disgust. "Garbage. The beans were practically charred, and there's barely any flavor past the bitterness. Did you even find a press?" Her words are icy with contempt, and yet she doesn't lift a finger. After a moment, she even takes another sip.
It's only after her second sip that she glances back to E'dolha. "Well? If you don't intend to find a leash, you'll be forcing me to make one." Her tone makes it perfectly clear what making one might entail.
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"You should count yourself lucky I was able to squeeze any blood from that stone in there," she says, and the veneer of submission is gone. "I'll be back." And she turns on her heel, her head again on a swivel to try to find some place to find an old discarded leash and collar. One still strong and sturdy enough to give them both something to work with. It really, really isn't the position she'd like to find herself in, but there might be something to this whole... being leashed up thing. Led around on a collar, guided wherever the demon wants her. At least it's a good enough way to pass the time.
It's not important where she went, but she comes back twirling the collar in one hand while its detached leash hangs limply from her other. She'd tried it on and it fits exactly tight enough to keep things interesting, but she has the feeling that it makes things much more fun to be there when the collar gets put on. Menphina help her, she's kind of getting into it. When she's within collaring range, she stops twirling and gathers both pieces in one hand, then offers them to the demon clasp-first. There's a cocky flip of her hair, and she tilts her head back to expose her neck.
"Well?"