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duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
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TDM #22
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It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you’re here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You’re a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your highrise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You’re a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you’ll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals. Winter is here and snow flurries are common in the Up while the slush collects in the Down. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. |
 As a particularly heavy snowstorm blows across the city, Duplicity finds itself blanketed in white. The morning after the storm, many citizens seem to be in a particularly mischievous mood and snowballs are a common sight flying through the air. A projectile meant for someone else may hit you square in the face if you're not careful — and then it's on. Joining these impromptu snow battles is encouraged, no matter a person's designation, and even Submissives teaming up to pelt unsuspecting Dominants with snowballs is generally taken in the spirit of good fun. Not everyone is throwing snow, of course — some are rolling much larger balls and shaping them into lewd snow figures. Those feeling chilled after playing in the snow may experience the urge to warm up with someone else, skin to skin. Whether they're a stranger or a familiar face, holding hands, kissing, or getting down and dirty with the nearest willing partner is invigorating. It might even be the only way to really feel warm again. |
 (cw: aphro, humiliation kink) Want to make some quick cash? After exiting the train in the Down, there seems to be a questionable character hanging about the station. Dressed in a trenchcoat and looking more like a flasher than the businessman he claims to be, this shady recruiter offers easy money in exchange for a simple delivery. Just take a package and drop it off at the address on the label. Really, that's it! Stop asking questions. Should characters decide to open the package themselves instead, they'll discover one of the following: glitter — so much glitter, lube (appears normal, but actually contains hot pepper and will cause more than a mild tingling sensation if used anywhere sensitive), a package of flavored condoms mysteriously labeled "every flavor" (none of them taste good), candy or perfume containing an aphrodisiac that, in addition to the usual libido-boosting effect, will also cause an intense craving for humiliation. It seems to be one of those services that allows one to send anonymous prank gifts, and they're hiding behind LIERs as couriers. There's no return address or company information on or inside the package, except for a card marked Encoded Sin Corp — which does not seem to be a real company if the name is searched. Whether characters end up delivering the package — maybe even to a fellow LIER — or get into some trouble along the way, someone is getting a nasty surprise. |
 (cw: aphro, dubcon, excessive fluids, exhibitionism, public use)A small winter market has been set up along one of the major streets in the Up with stalls selling a variety of goods ranging from knitted hats and scarves, soaps, scented lotions, candles, jewelry, artwork and assorted crafts to hand-dyed bondage rope and kinky leather accessories. Food and drink stands are plentiful as well. Strings of lights crisscross the street between the roofs of the shops, providing a cheerful glow, and there are tables set up in the street itself for people to sit and chat while having a snack — if they can stand the cold. Some of the most popular treats being sold are hot chocolate, eggnog, marshmallow snowmen, and sugar cookies decorated like snowflakes. Of course, their popularity may have something to do with the effects they produce when consumed. • The hot chocolate simply gets one all hot and bothered. • The eggnog may cause heavy production of sexual fluids, a desire to be filled or covered with someone else's cream, or all of the above. • The marshmallow snowmen will make those who eat them want to invite others to use them as they please, desiring nothing more than to be molded into the perfect fucktoy. • The sugar cookies seem to induce all sorts of different cravings — after all, no two snowflakes are alike! These effects tend to last at least an hour and may, in some cases, last up to a full day. One of the jewelry shops sells an unusual selection of compass pendants and bracelets. The compass arrows spin round and round lazily while the pieces are on display. Once worn, however, that changes. The arrow will settle on a direction, but instead of pointing north it will lead directly to another person. Perhaps you should speak to them? You may even begin to feel magnetically drawn to them yourself… In the event that two people have compasses that point them at each other, the attraction will be even stronger — nearly impossible to deny. There is another shop which sells intricately designed pocket watches and small clocks. When these timepieces are stared at for an extended length of time or picked up and handled, characters will feel a brief but strong connection to their past and experience a vivid flashback to some moment that was, in whatever way, meaningful for them. After reliving the memory, they will feel compelled to speak about it to whoever is nearby. |
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right." When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass." This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: If your character likes it hot, they are a Dominant. If your character prefers the cold, they are a Submissive. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to use new TDMs with different designations for fun! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
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Nodding as he tucks it back away, chuckling at that explanation.
"I guess they're helpful here to make sure bodily fluids don't stain things, huh?" He snorts, shaking his head. "We went a while without even a way to wash our clothes without fresh running water and a rock," he admits. "A dry cleaner sounds kind of like a joke."
Of course, a lot of this city sounds that way, though it's not very funny in the long run. Not to him.
Ben arches a brow though at that, head canting slightly. "What kind of threat? If you don't mind me asking." How many other worlds had that happened in? Was it all that common?
His expression darkens at that, giving him a look. "Funny, everyone else seems to say it happens all the damn time. Not like it would be the first time I've been forced to do things I don't want but don't think it's going to be any better than what I've been through." He sighs, shaking his head. "I know what they do is none of my business. I just don't get risking someone's health when there's like dozens of other things you can do, that's all."
None of his business. Nothing he's going to get involved in. They want to cause someone permanent damage, that's on them. But keeping his head down and his nose out of things isn't easy.
"I do get what you're saying though. Or trying to say, though I think you're assuring me of something that isn't always as easy for some of us." The marked ones. Even already he can tell the difference in the way people are treated. "But thank you. I really appreciate it."
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These are lighthearted, idle musings, but he pauses on the question of the threat that's being faced where he's from, breathing a bit of a sigh. "Oh that's elder dragons. They're a whole catch-22: tied to the life force 'n magic of the world but ready to wipe out every stitch of life 'n civilisation on it too. Can't kill 'em without threatening the fabric of reality itself, can't leave 'em without having 'em destroy life as we know it."
He's been here long enough to know that people imagine all sorts of wild shit when you say "dragons" but for him, they're just a simple fact of life--it is how it is, and since he can't do a damn thing about them from here, he generally tries not to tie himself in knots. There are far more pragmatic concerns to focus on, for example surviving this place with a minimal amount of suffering.
"I've been here longer than most people--three 'n a half years, nearly--long 'nuff to work some of this bullshit out. Not that it all makes sense, 'cause it won't, but a lotta crap here's 'bout negotiating. You try 'n dig your heels in and say a hard no, the city's got ways of flexing its muscles to force you, sometimes pretty brutally and you never see it coming. But if you're willing to go with the points you can bear, find a small yes, a little concession, at least some of the time you can avoid having to face the worst. That's true whether you got a mark down your neck or not."
It's about finesse in other words, which is sadly something he's often seen younger men, in all the headstrong bluster of their youth, struggle with. He's still going to share the knowledge though.
"As for this," a vague gesture in the direction of the kneeling submissive who started this all, "folks ever do trust falls where you're from? Or climb mountains they might die on? Do crazy shit while they're out seeking thrills?"
The questions are all half rhetorical, just a suggestion of some non-sexual acts that might be sort of analogous. Simply something to consider, and rather than waiting for an answer, he gives a nod along down the path towards the winter market stalls and kiosks.
"C'mon, walk with me a bit. We can find someplace warm to sit."
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Ben can't remember when he stopped thinking about himself as a kid and only as a soldier, but he kept his spikes for a reason and that reason is to be an asset.
"Good coffee though? I could be all into that. Even if my memories of it are from when I was sick," he admits. The caffeine helped open his bronchial passages and it had become kind of a treat when he'd been home sick.
He pauses then, opening his mouth and then closing it. He's probably acting like so many others that have heard that but as a kid raised on Harry Potter being the most adventure he could have, he can't help himself.
"Dragons. Like as in living breathing reptilian giant winged creatures?" Then it hits him even as he asks it. "Okay that had to be awful." Monstrous, possibly fire breathing, and tied into your entire world. "So what did you do about them?"
For his part though, Ben does listen. He takes in what he's being told without trying to fight it right now. It doesn't make it easier though. He shifts, fingers digging into the strap of the rifle and pulling it closer to his back. He can feel it brush the spikes and his gaze drops slightly. Not the ground but not meeting the man's gaze.
"Hard to find the points you're okay with when there aren't any points." Not to mention not even wanting to handle looks of disgust from someone he even liked enough to think about sleeping with. Back home everyone had just known and he hadn't even gotten that far.
That question though is enough to get his gaze up a bit, shaking his head. "Not really in the last year or so. We don't have much choice but to trust one another and it backfires often enough that you don't really give it." Karen. Pope. One after another of people that had turned on the Masons and on humanity as a whole.
He nods though at that suggestion. "I'm Ben. Ben Mason of the Second Mass Battalion."
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He does give a nod about the dragons, though giant, reptilian, and winged, while all technically correct, don't exactly encapsulate what Tyrian elder dragons are like. "There's six of 'em. Or there were to start anyway. So far as anyone knows, only five have woken up this cycle. Two have been killed by the combined armies of the Pact. After the second was when everything really went pear-shaped. Started getting all sorts of weird magical anomalies and rifts, the fabric of reality starting to shred. By that point most people realised we couldn't kill another one. There'd been some thinking 'bout maybe trying to send 'em back to sleep 'cause they don't do no harm when they're dormant, but...well, then there was a rogue god wanting to kill the next one." He sighs.
"Exhausting fuckin' mess, to be honest and it gets complicated. There's a baby dragon and her champion, a prophecy, a whole primeval plague. Anyway, that was all still up in the air when I landed here. From what I've heard, the third one's dead now too, but the baby--well, she's not so baby anymore--she's taken his place and absorbed his magic, only she's on our side. I dunno what we're gonna do 'bout the next ones. Not like there's loads of dragon eggs with new scions of great dragon prophets lying around."
This is all a very brief gloss on what's been done about it, and he knows that it' s already a lot. There are definitely more pressing things to worry about...unless perhaps Ben just wants the escapism of far-away stories.
He's started them walking as he tells the tale though, letting it convey them down the snowy path and through the streets of the Up. There's a lot he wants to ask Ben as well, but introductions first.
"Vrenille. Of...the Stronghold of Ebonhawke, I guess. Or the guild Divergent Resolve." He shrugs. He's not really big on these sorts of formalities. The names of affiliations don't tell you much about a person unless you have some context to attach them to, and context is sorely lacking here. "I'm glad to meet you, Ben, even if the circumstances are, y'know." This.
"Can I ask--not to be rude but how old are you?"
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Ben misses a step, just because he's thinking so hard on what this man is dealing with, he can't help but to be curious about it. It's fantastical in all the ways that appeal to him, and now he's finding out that it's all real and he can't help but to be interested.
"What about transferring the mantle of the dragon to another being that would be loyal to you as the baby dragon is? I mean, no idea if that would even be possible but if it could happen with the baby, could it come with another or is it all linked to their lines?" He chuckles, shrugging. "Or you kill the rogue god but is that even possible?"
He's never run across a god. Dragons, at least, are just another species. Like the Espheni and the Volm.
"Yeah, this is kind of a thing, isn't it?" His nose wrinkles, shaking his head about it all. "Uhmmm, seventeen. Nearly. Like in a month."
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"I can't imagine what other kinda creature could hold magic that way...unless it was one of the gods. They've already left though. That was kinda the whole conflict 'tween the rest of 'em and Balthazar, the rogue one."
Vrenille's no lore master, but he's doing his best to make sense of this all in short form since Ben is interested. And sure, he gets that maybe it's just a fantastical story to him, but if it can take his mind off his worries for a little while he's happy to indulge the curiosity. Besides, talking about home--even about its difficulties--always makes him feel closer to the people and places he misses.
"I guess what you gotta know to make sense of it's that the gods didn't create Tyria. From all accounts we've got, they brought humans to the world when they came, and I guess the dragons were dormant then. Seems that when the Six realised, they all decided there'd be no winning a war against the elder dragons, just total annihilation. So they decided to leave. Only Balthazar didn't care 'bout the destruction. He wanted to fight the dragons no matter the cost. God of war--go figure." He shrugs.
"He is already dead though--killed by that not-so-baby dragon and her champion, which honestly just created more problems for a while, though I've been told that now that bit's sorta levelled out. Kralkatorrik--that's the crystal dragon, the one that was Aurene's grandsire--was almost torn apart by all the magic his body had absorbed before she took his place. But she's...well, I've heard she's like a prism, which I guess works out 'cause magic's apparently like the spectrum of light. I dunno, that bit gets all science-y, kinda leaves me in the dust."
He cocks his head at Ben as they walk. Nearly seventeen... And a soldier. And now dropped into this place.
"I guess this must all sound pretty wild. Then again, an alien invasion sounds wild to me."
He is, however, going to convert on the casual storytelling tone to slip in a relevant question that he knows might make Ben uncomfortable:
"So have you had sex before?"
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It does let him ignore all the rest of this place for a minute, listening to Vrenille's story and considering what he's been through and all his world has faced.
"So you just have to find out what works as long term sleeping pills for dragons." He snorts, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure that's just sold at the corner drugstore. Just go right out and all good."
It's fun to tease about the catastrophe in his own life as well. If you can't joke about it then everything seems overwhelming.
"It's a little crazy but then I figure if I talked about the invasion and what I've been through and my family and all? It would sound pretty crazy too," he admits. Just his own time in a prisoner of war and what he can do now still sounds the same way.
He should have known something like that might come up given this place but that doesn't make him any less hesitant. "If I say sure, of course, you aren't going to buy that, are you?"
He hesitated, he already knows how it sounds.
"Not exactly been a high priority." Which sounds better than trying to explain the spikes hidden under his jacket and not even sure how he's meant to fulfill quota in this place once someone sees them.
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"You're gonna hear all kindsa wild shit in this place. I'm sure not judging you. We got people here who spend their lives traveling 'round outer space, not really making their homes on any planet. Most people here've never even heard of my world, Tyria. Whole lot seem to come from Earth, but it's all different versions of Earth, all different times. I know guys from 1455 'n others from 2015. Know one guy who spent two years living on the back of space whale." So if Ben has any worries about his tale being too out there, he really can shelve them.
"Tell me?" About the aliens, the invasion, his world, whatever he'd like to share, however he wants to say it, "I'd like to hear 'bout it."
And as for the rest, he has to laugh a little, but gently, kindly. "When you say it like that? Nah, I ain't buying it. But there's no shame. I've known plenty of guys who've had their first times here--that doesn't actually have to be bad. And a lotta people wouldn't expect a guy to have gotten laid 'fore his seventeenth birthday anyway."
Of course he still has no inkling about the spikes, but he seems very accepting of difference in general. He also clearly has no problem at all with very blunt questions, given the next one he asks: "You like boys or girls?"
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He nods at that. "Yeah, I'm from Earth but mentioned the invasion to a couple of people and they've never heard of it. Hope they never do," he admits, tones a bit fierce in that desire. He knows it's possible they haven't had the invasion... yet. He really hopes its never. It's bad enough his world went through it, that he's been through it. He hopes no one else ever has to.
"About three years ago they struck. Most of the population was killed during the initial strikes," he admits, his voice trembling slightly but working to keep it even. "There are pockets of humans forming to try and fight them off but there's little communication so we haven't made a full force effort yet."
And he's not sure if they'll ever find a way. One step forward, two steps back.
"Some of their own are trying to fight back and are joining us. Except they're not really theirs. They're others they've taken prisoner and genetical changed through harnesses to make them do the grunt work. Kind of like worker bees. Things are changing though, and we're going to find a way to stop them."
There's determination to those words, not willing to accept after all they've done and been through that now they were going to lose. It wasn't an option.
He snorts at that, giving a nod though. He's thankful for how this guy talks about it, and he nods. "I don't feel shame about it. Not really. Not like I haven't really been busy saving the world and all." And it always feels easier to think of it that way. It's true, after all.
Ben falters though he doesn't quite miss a step. "Uhmmmm, well... Yes? No? I mean, there's been few girls I've been interested in. Never got too far between them turning traitor or being killed. Or ending up with my brother," he says, shrugging.
"The truth?"
He looks around like maybe someone's listening before leaning in a bit towards Vrenille, lowering his voice. "I think I'm more interested in someone that can accept me and be okay with what I've been through than caring if they're a guy or a girl. Not likely to happen though."
no subject
It's a topic that he's going to let subside for now though, giving his full attention to the story Ben tells of his home.
"Three years." It's as long as Vrenille's been stuck here, which means he understands that it can feel like a lifetime while still being barely the blink of an eye in the larger scheme of things. "So you still remember what life was like before."
As different as what Ben's describing is from his own experience, he can find analogies enough that let him understand, at least to a certain degree--not necessarily with the elder dragons per se but with elements of his life he's not spoken of yet. The determination, certainly, is something he's familiar with--something that's deep in his history, baked right into his marrow--and there's enough of home in it to garner a fond sort of look from him. "You persevere until you find a way. Sometimes that's just how it is. Can be a damn long road."
What he doesn't understand is this expectation of not being accepted for who he is. Maybe he's missing some context, but to him it just doesn't seem to track.
"You'll meet a lotta people with all kinda experiences here. Even if they're not from your Earth, they might've gone through stuff that's similar. Why do you think no one will accept you?"
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Yet it feels good to talk about it, to have it recognized there's things they've let behind. The few people he's spoken to already seem more focused on here than on there, wherever their homes are.
He nods at the question though. "Yeah, I do. A lots changed for me personally so yeah, I remember. I sometimes wonder if my little brother does. I mean, he's not that young but feels like lifetimes between then and now."
Matt had learned to be a soldier, had dealt with things even his older brothers hadn't. One day the war would be over and yet it's already hard to think about going back to some kind of semblance of what had been normal.
"Yeah, all you can do is keep going. No sense if giving up." Which is what his plan is here, even if he's pretty damn sure he's going to end up in the zoo place they talked about. Outside of the 2nd Mass he hasn't dealt with many that dealt with the spikes with anything more than mocking and hatred.
He winces though at that, making a face. "Really hope they haven't. I wouldn't wish it on anyone." Much as he embraces his spikes and what he can do because of them, he definitely hopes no one here can really relate.
Part of him wants to hide it as long as he can, keep the secret until he gets to know people more. Part of him knows that's a mistake that is likely to start a fight depending on a person's reaction.
"Because I've been through some things and I still bear the marks from it. They're not sexy, they're not hot, and they mean..." He straightens, hand tightening on the strap of his rifle like a security blanket. "That I'm not entirely as human as I was born." Maybe they're not permanent, and he's not a hybrid like Lexi but it's the easiest way to explain them.
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So far as the concern about being a degree or two less human, Vrenille honestly has to shake his head at that. He's long been under the impression from everything he's heard about so many different versions of Earth that the place suffers from being too uniformly human. Either it's a trait of the world or a trait of humanity itself: in the absence of other non-human races, it seems like humans will turn factionalism against each other, act like differences in skin tone or culture make a person's "humanity" more or less. Suddenly introduce a non-human adversary, like what's happened in Ben's world, and they'll find ways to worry over the limits of the human all over again.
His own perspective both from home and from Duplicity is very different.
"Look, I come from a place where humans are the minority, so I get, y'know, that there's people out there who are really worried 'bout humanity just dying out. But here? You got loads of people who might look pretty human but really they're not, or at least not-so-much. Vampires, werewolves, half-aliens, mutants, cyborgs. It gets to be a damn long list. And whether they're proud to not be human varies a lot, person to person."
He lets that sink in for a moment. "I've known guys here who're scarred over 90% of their bodies, people who've been through all kinda shit. Hell, there's a woman here who turns into a sea monster. Whatever's happened to you? Looking at you right now, I can't see it. I just see a good-looking kid who's been through some rough times and is probably a little too used to being judged for it."
no subject
It's not easy though even as he listens about how there's many that look human and aren't, those that look as wounded as he does and more, and it should settle his nerves about this place but it's really not. Not as a nearly seventeen year old with zero experience and the marks of his imprisonment there.
"Vampires? Really? Huh. Go figure," he says, finding that more amusing than he should. "Thanks though. For trying to be reassuring. I think sometimes when you're older, you accept things more." And he hasn't thought about the likelihood he'll end up intimate with someone much older than him. He's just never thought about it. Not that he hasn't been nearly killed by those twice his age.
"You see that though because..." He sighs, coming to a stop. He shifts the rifle down, clasping the butt of it between his boots as he bows his head. Drawing his collar down, it bares two of the spikes jutting out of his spine as well as the scarring that swirls around them. "They go all the way down to the middle of my back. The scarring too."
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"And it's kinda my job to be accepting," he smiles. There's a light bit of humour, or at least irony, in his own life trajectory and he knows it. "Or, well...I guess you'd say when I got here I made it my job--sex therapist. The accepting part was sorta core to my hustle anyway."
That's also why he's absolutely considered the possibility that Ben will end up with someone older. Hell, it might even be him. Not that he has any designs to get him into bed right now, and not that the age gap between them isn't substantial, but this place is what it is: sex is required of every LIER, age notwithstanding, and Vrenille knows he can give a guy a good first time; he's done it often enough.
For now though, the question is still marginal in his mind, and when Ben pulls the back of his collar down, his attention is squarely on what's revealed. There's no recoil, no wince, no shying away. Instead he takes a step closer, lifting a hand towards the collar of Ben's coat to pull it back and see better, but giving a clear indication of what he intends, and only reaching out if Ben's body language gives the go-ahead.
"Do they hurt?" His brow furrows slightly, because honestly, they look like they must hurt.
no subject
Given as accepting and helpful the man has been, Ben isn't surprised to find out he's a therapist. That he's a sex therapist just makes him curious. "I guess with everything they said in orientation that they keep you pretty busy then." He can't be the only on hesitant on things, virgin or not, when thrown into the madness of this place.
He can't help but chuckle, only sounding a bit nervous. "Course, not sure how they license you for that. The tests must be rigorous," he adds, glad to sound light hearted about it all.
It's easier being lighthearted about another than about himself, and especially about the spikes.
He doesn't flinch though, bending his head a bit more to let the other look closer. "You can touch them. Promise I won't scream or anything. Not that they hurt but the look on people's faces when I do it can be priceless."
Least he can joke about them, right?
"Day to day, they don't hurt. Right now, I can feel the puckering of the skin when I move or things hit it but even the rifle bouncing against them doesn't hurt really. Try and remove them and it's another story. No one survived without alien tech to help remove them. Some didn't even make it then," he admits, his tones as casual as he can manage. "Other than that, they're usually fine, though they pick up radio signals and that can pretty much do me in since they're linked into my spinal and nervous system."
no subject
"For the natives here, I imagine they might care 'bout all that. It's a bit different with LIERs in general, I guess, even after you been here a year 'n they make you a 'full citizen' of the city."
Holding Ben's collar back with his pinky and ring finger, Vrenille touches not so much the spikes but the skin around them, the places where it's scarred and puckered and the places where the scarring is less. It's a caress that goes up to Ben's hairline on one side and then down his nape on the other, so that even when he does brush over the metal of the spikes, the contact is about Ben, not about some alien modification to his body.
The whole time, he just carries on talking, like it's nothing. "Me, I used fuck men for coin, back before the whole fighting 'gainst the elder dragons thing. Particular sorta context--my hometown had been under siege for 'bout two 'n a half centuries. You get a special kinda community that way, lotta repeat clients, lotta soldiers. I was real used to listening to 'em talk anyway."
He drops his hand away from Ben's collar, examination complete. "When I got here and I found there's no mark on my throat, I figured I was gonna have to, well, re-brand. Same skill set, just spun a bit different." He shrugs.
And then the corner of his mouth tugs into a playful smirk. "It's a good joke, screaming when someone touches 'em. Just don't play it on anyone too precious if you're hoping to get into bed with 'em."
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"Someone said the natives really don't want anything to do with us. That true or just them trying to steer us away from them? Back home we learned that not all aliens were out to kill us so I don't want to just assume because someone said that's what it was."
Because in the end, you never knew, but he was determined to find out.
He listens, considering that as he lets the other examine his spikes. Eventually someone's going to have to see them and Vrenille's reaction has been enough to keep him calm and not pulling away from what he's doing.
Straightening as he adjusts his jacket, pulling the collar up and over the spikes once more before slinging his rifle over one shoulder.
"Seems a good way to make a career here. Probably helpful to people." He chuckles, shrugging. "I don't plan on doing it much but then I'm trying to figure out a way not to make them a whole thing either."
Which is him edging around thoughts of having someone see them.
"Not sure I'm really going to hold hope about sleeping with someone. Don't have hope about it and don't have to worry about the reaction they're going to have."
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Vrenille gestures to his own unmarked throat and then to Ben's. "All this, the Dom/Sub stuff, it's their culture. Mostly what they see from us is people railing against it, being outraged by it. I think to them we're probably sorta uncouth 'n mannerless, k'know?"
Relations with the natives here are always a bit tricky, but in Vrenille's experience they don't have to be downright hostile, and he certainly considers it best when they aren't.
As to the rest of what Ben says, he considers a moment, both the young man standing in front of him and where they stand, both literally and figuratively.
They've stopped in front of a sort of pop-up cafe in the market--a temporary structure styled to look like a little mountain chalet. It has a small indoor seating area and even table service.
"No matter what your inclination is, you're gonna need to have sex at least three times a month to make quota. That's not something you wanna try 'n skirt 'round 'cause they will know and the consequences if you don't? They're bad. Pump you full of drugs so you won't even get to choose what you do--or who--sorta bad. If you wanna be able to make those decisions yourself, you gotta start sooner rather than later."
And so here, perhaps, is where Ben can begin: Vrenille nods towards the kiosk.
"You wanna go inside, get a hot drink, maybe a snack, get outta the cold? It's my treat, but you should know that some part of it'll probably make you horny. Not so horny you can't think, I'm guessing, 'cause," vague gesture around them, "I don't see anything too wild happening out here, but half the food 'n drink in this place is spiked with some kinda aphrodisiac or other. You sit down with me 'n there's at least a fair chance you're gonna end up doing more than just sitting down with me."
It's important to him that Ben know that, that he go into it understanding and agreeing to it, if he goes in at all. And if he doesn't, that's fine too. But informed consent is, to Vrenille, one of the pillars they all have to try and uphold with each other in this place as best they can.
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It's easy to make jokes about it, to put it in context of things he's known. Everything is easier than facing his future here and he's still working on trying to make sense of it all. And get over his nerves about what's expected of him. Humor always makes things easier.
But his expression is serious, taking it all in even if processing it isn't nearly as easy. He nods though at that, shifting his rifle as he takes it all in.
"Doesn't help they're enforcing things on people that didn't sign up for it and then bothered when they're not into it. Gotta love it," he says, making a face. "I'm not sure if it's better or worse that I'm accepting this isn't a game of the overlords just to get me on distracted and out of the battle."
It wouldn't be the first time they had try to take the Masons out of the war by one means or another. Hallucinations of a different life wasn't even new.
"But I'm accepting it." Not that he's sure he can so easily accept his place in this town or their expectations. Which meant he was also talking seriously what Vrenille has said about the café and the possibility of what could happen.
As wild as the whole place is, in that moment there's at least a calm that comes from knowing that the other has a clue of how bad things can be with Ben. They've been open and honest with Ben and that means a lot to him. Even with the warning of what could happen because of the really screwed up reality that they're basically probably being low key drugged all the time.
He's quiet for a moment, considering the other man before he smiles. It's not the cocky one he's been good at giving when things get tough but genuine and almost shy as he nods.
"Sure. I could definitely do with a cocoa. Been a while since I've had any."
Coffee was hard enough to get in his world. Things like cocoa had been gone for a while for those fighting in the trenches as it were.
sorry for the slow, it's been A Week
Anyway, Ben might not have exactly agreed to lose his virginity to him, but he's at least ruled the possibility in...or perhaps just not expressly ruled it out, and Vrenille takes that seriously. If that's how things shake out, he's going to make sure to treat the kid well, make sure he has an experience that sets him up well here, so to speak. No expectations though--whatever happens will happen.
Ushering them inside, he guides the way to a table by the "window" (basically a pane of clear plastic in the canvas of a stylised tent). It's warmer in here, though not exactly warm--comfortable enough to go without a coat if one has a good jumper on, but chilly for shirtsleeves, which makes it interesting that there are at least a few patrons wearing nothing more than t-shirts. And that includes the waitress who comes over to take their orders, asking, "Something to warm you up?"
"Subtle," Vrenille rolls his eyes a little as he looks at Ben. Sometimes this place really is too on the nose, but here they are. "Cocoa? And anything else you want." The offer's open, if Ben wants to be adventurous. For his part, he's planning to have a hot cocoa himself...and maybe a sugar cookie.
Once their orders are placed, he picks up on a thread in Ben's remarks that he hasn't gotten to ask about yet. "You said something 'bout 'the overlords.' And a game? What's that 'bout?"