duplicitymemes | TDM #4 ( revised )

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TDM #4 ( revised )

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « HERE WE ARE AGAIN

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.

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.

Oh, and one more thing. It's fucking cold. Better bundle up.

» » » LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

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.

« « « END IN THE DISCORD

While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most.

Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled.

On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either.

» » » TABLE IT FOR LATER

Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments.

To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form.

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

Please read carefully.

On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character 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 chose "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. All characters who have blue eyes or one blue eye and another color are Submissives. All characters who have brown eyes or one brown eye and another color are Dominants. Characters with any other color eyes are Dominants. To use this TDM as a door pass please link this on your app and place whether it is Dominant or Submissive.

Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!!

» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And with the mention of pirates, I’m going to have to concede. You make too strong an argument.

[It’s around this time that Geralt realises he’s in a good mood. A genuinely good mood. It’s the first good mood he’s had since his arrival here and it’s entirely through the efforts of Julian. He really is going to have to keep the man around.

He brings the gin into the lounge room and sits across from Julian, setting the gin and glasses on the coffee table (Geralt doesn’t know what coffee is; a type of tree, maybe? The method with which the table was made? Either way, he learned the name from a catalogue and he’ll continue using it despite his ignorance).]

I’ve got a curiosity for you, if you’ll indulge me. [Uncapping the gin and tonic, he pours them a generous helping of both.]

Hah! Good, good. That's what I like to hear.

[He says as Geralt takes his seat and places the glasses down on the coffee table, a thing or two about which Julian knows, because if it isn't alcohol it's strong coffee he's drinking. Seated himself, he throws his coat and jacket as tidily as he can over the arm of the seat, stretches long and luxurious before finally settling down. He's already reaching for the gin as soon as it's poured, answers his host with the glass on the way to his lips.]

Sorry, my things are everywhere, aren't they. I hope that's not too much of a mess? But of course, I'll indulge you, what is it? Seems only fair when you're indulging me.

[He says it with a grin as he lifts his glass in toast, before tagging a sizable swig.]

It’s fine. Livens up the place.

[And this place needs some livening up.

Before proceeding with his question, Geralt brings his glass to his lips and swallows almost half the gin in one go. The gin isn’t as good as the kind they had earlier that night. Not as sharp and there’s no citrus kick, but Geralt enjoys it all the same. The alcohol preparation here is advanced enough that even basic distillates are miles ahead of most alcohol he has tasted on his own world.]

When you activated that healing ability of yours, a mark appeared on your neck. [He makes a vague, needless gesture to the approximate area on his own neck.] Are you as clueless about what exactly it means as you are the source of your ability?

[He’s not hugely curious about it or he would have asked earlier, but he's still curious.]

[Not quite as good as the one they'd previously been drinking perhaps, but if Julian notices he gives no sign of it, looking satisfied as he finishes knocking back his own deep swig. He places the glass down on the table as he takes heed of the other man's question, his expression growing marginally more serious as he does so. He runs long fingers back through his tangle of curls, takes a breath, sighs it out again.]

Well. The mark is a magical sigil, that much I know for certain. It's why for so long I believed it was that ex of mine who cast it upon me, he's a magician you see and things didn't end...ah, it was all a bit of a mess back then. But I digress.

[He clears his throat, the tips of his ears tinged with a colour that slowly seeps across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, but he seems determined to ignore his own mildly flustered state.]

Back in Vesuvia, though, I'd been doing some investigating. Trying to get to the bottom of this murder business. The muder of the Count. I needed to know for sure, you see, whether I'd done it or not. It's a long story all in all but the short end of it is, I had...a good deal of memories missing leading up to the night of the murder, including the details of the murder itself, what I'd been doing there, in the Count's room whilst he burned.

[He shudders, just slightly. Knocks back a bigger mouthful of gin this time before continuing.]

Anyway, I'd been...looking into things. My memories had slowly been returning to me with each piece of evidence I found, and when I visited my old cell down in the dungeon I found notes I'd made, and one of my magician friend's books, and the very same sigil that appears at my throat was cast onto the wall in there. So I believe it may be likely that I did it to myself, as part of a ritual of sorts, to get answers about the plague. Or perhaps it was done to me as part of a bargain. With the Hanged Man.

[He shrugs, expansively.]

I still had one last piece of investigating to do in that regard before I wound up here, though. So I suppose, for now, the full extent of the mystery will have to remain.

[Geralt nods periodically to indicate that Julian is holding his attention. There’s enough intrigue in the story that he’s hanging on each word. A former magician lover (something Geralt can relate to), amnesia, a mysterious sigil, and the Hanged Man – it’s all very interesting, and the mention of the Hanged Man is ominous enough that he can’t not ask about it.]

Your life gets more convoluted the more I hear of it. All it’s missing is some political intrigue.

[He leans back in his chair, making himself comfortable.]

And one has to wonder… a name like the Hanged Man, and you mention them with a shrug? It’s not a name that conjures up thoughts of safety and benevolence.

[He laughs then, a slightly rough-edged sound because this is all so fresh in him that it still feels raw and open, unfinished. But he always has liked to tell a good tale, and this is one of the very biggest of them, quite possibly the strangest, if one discounts their current situation. Perhaps even then. Another swig of gin, another pause, and he continues.]

This is where things take a turn for the macabre, I'll warn you. I'm probably not the best at explaining who or what the Hanged Man is, Asra - the magician, that is - would do a far better job of it than I. But he's one of the Major Arcana, a powerful being from another realm, or plane of existence, one related to magic and the like, so really quite out of my expertise. But I suppose I'd been in a desperate state at the time, what with having only days left before the plague claimed my life. I'd been having dreams, visions if you will, of a raven headed man, and so I took Asra's book, and...I suppose I called him, or went to him, for the answers I was looking for.

[He smiles crookedly then, wonky from the gin yes, but perhaps there's something else there too, a touch of guilt in his face.]

He's definitely not the sort that conjures safety and benevolence. I'd been trying to contact him again, to find the truth of my missing memory, but nothing I tried was working. So there seemed only one option left to me...I needed to be taken to the point of death to be pushed into his realm, and to get his attention. So I turned myself in, for the murder of the Count. Just moments before I found myself here, I was on my way to an appointment with the gallows.

[Lightly, his fingers brush his throat, though the mark is quite invisible, now.]

I was relying on the sigil to bring me back, but it was all a bit of a gamble. Necessary though, because as it turns out, the plague was coming back. I needed to know how to stop it.

[It seems appropriate at this point to top up Julian’s glass, and so he does. It’s clear they’re traversing raw territory. He’s not a socially adept man, but he knows the signs, and it doesn’t take a socially adept man to realise Julian is probably harbouring anxiety and guilt knowing the plague may be ravaging through his world without him there to offer any release from it.]

I reiterate what I said earlier, at your first mention of the plague: that’s an admirable role you played. And it becomes increasingly so with each addition.

[He wants to offer some sort of resolution to Julian's story, like he has offered so many others over the years. But he can’t; he’s restricted to gin and hospitality. At least Julian appears to have an appreciation for both.]

But perhaps I should give you reprieve from storytelling. [So there won’t be any more of those raw laughs or crooked smiles.] I invite you to ask me a question, which I will make an effort to spin into a story. It’s only fair after you have been so generous.

[Appropriate indeed, and when the reprieve comes, he appreciates it. Drains half his glass before he looks up again, the edges of his smile a little less ragged. He hurls himself headlong into these situations, acts more often than not with reckless abandon, rarely stopping to think through the full impact of the consequences before he does so. But it is important, isn't it? To stop the plague. To try and atone for his failures from three years ago, all those bodies, all that death. Better that someone like him suffer the worst of it, so that no-one else has to.

Still, the praise leaves him vaguely flustered, and he clears his throat.]

Well, um. I think it had to be me, who found those answers. So of course I was prepared to do it.

[But he's more than willing to let go of it, for now. To still the jump and jitter in him at everything he's left undone and the big open fear of what would happen once he was hanged, had he not been snatched away before he could go through with it.]

Let me see, then. Uh, I don't believe you told me why you chose your profession? I wouldn't mind hearing about that, if you would.

It wasn’t something I chose. We’re inducted as children.

[It’s not much of an answer and Geralt knows it, so he tries to stretch the topic further.]

Nor do I imagine it is a profession most witcher’s would have chosen, or would remain in, had we the option. But there is nowhere else a witcher can earn a living. My generation of witcher’s in particular, as we have fallen out of the favour of the people as the population of monsters has dwindled. It has dwindled through our efforts, quite ironically, but few acknowledge this, and fewer still appreciate our hand in making the lands safe for them to live in. Our services have become increasingly unnecessary for most, and an outright burden for the rest. And yet, they don’t provide us with enough concessions to find work elsewhere.

[He speaks matter-of-factly, but there's a heavy bitter note.]

Not a restriction I have here, mind you. Perhaps I’ll try my hand at being a cabbage farmer.

Ah. Didn't pick the cheeriest topic, did I. That sounds...well, awful, if I'm honest. Doing a job so well but when the problem starts to go away, the people you've been helping turn their backs on you? Tough crowd.

[And he raises a brow along with his gin in a sloppy kind of commiserating salute, before knocking the rest of it back.]

But maybe we ought to talk of something else before we both become maudlin. Do you really want to become a cabbage farmer, or is that just a joke?

Don’t worry yourself. I don’t much mind topics that enable me to criticise my employers.

[Geralt arches an eyebrow at Julian's follow up question.]

I’m surprised you have to ask. Are there people who exclusively farm cabbages where you’re from? If so, I commend them on their resilience. It can’t be easy to make a profit selling cabbages, which are, if children are to be believed, among the foulest of vegetables. Or perhaps they eat the bulk of their stock? In which case, I commend them even further.

[Sorry Julian, he’s making fun of you, but in his defence, you set yourself up for this.]

[Perhaps he may have done slightly better at discerning the sarcasm were he not, most certainly, three sheets to the wind by this point, and somewhat more accustomed to his companion's exceptionally dry tone. As things stand, he takes the ribbing in his stride, placing his empty glass down on the table in order to throw both hands up in a gesture of overacted supplication.]

Ah, well. Forgive me. I'm not exactly an expert on farming, but if one can deal only in leeches, as an example, then why not only in cabbages? Admittedly one of those things is rather more useful than the other, but it takes all sorts.

A man who sells leeches has the benefit of ignorance. How many people understand what exactly leeches are and what they do? Not many, I’d wager, and I’d count many a medic among those numbers, which makes it all the easier for them to sell leeches as a miracle cure with the conviction necessary to make a profit. The same can’t be said for cabbages. There’s no mystery. They taste shit even in a stew and I’ve yet to find a meat they compliment.

[That said, leeches have fallen out of regular use in his world. They've developed more effective methods of dealing with medical problems that might have, at an earlier point of time, been addressed with the application of leeches.]

Leeches can be rather useful if you're looking to increase blood circulation or aid in the dissolution of blood clots. They're handy for treating cardiovascular disease but...well, admittedly I didn't have much success with them during the earlier stages of my plague research, or for a number of other ailments they've been reputed to have a use for...

[Consider the medical knowledge of his world rather lagging behind in that case, as there's still quite the thriving market for them in Vesuvia. Still, he knows they're still in the realm of banter here, so enough about...how frequently he may have attempted to use leeches in the treatment of various diseases...]

Cabbages though, admittedly there's not much mystery there. Other than the one involving the frequent sale of them at market stalls when obviously there are far superior options available. They do seem quite popular amongst grandmothers, however.

[Though he feels a little guilty for saying it, having been brought up by 'grandmothers', and doesn't recall Mazelinka ever trying to feed him cabbage.]

[He swallows the remainder of gin in his glass before topping it back up, spilling some of it onto the coffee table. He’s descended into the warm, fuzzy stage of intoxication and he can’t seem to bring himself to care about the mess he’s made.]

The ailments they’ve been established to help aren’t always, or perhaps even often the selling point. Hence, they’re more profitable than cabbages. But there’s no shame in ignorance. We’ve been brought to a place where medical practices on either of our worlds are seen as outdated at best and barbaric at worst.

And indeed, grandmothers and grandfathers both. A cabbage farmer could be sure of the patronage of one age bracket, at the very least.

[Vesemir certainly never shied away from pushing cabbage on his young wards, and not even particularly well prepared cabbage at that. It promotes growth and good health, he would say, but Geralt would still hide it in his drinking mug and throw it out once Vesemir wasn’t looking.]

There we are, then. Perhaps farming only cabbages would lead to some level of profit after all. Though perhaps neither of us should turn our aspirations in that direction any time soon.

[His words are definitely beginning to soften around the edges now, voice a little blurred, his vision going the same way but his spirits are obviously high, and other than those small tell-tell signs he seems to be handling himself well enough. It helps, of course, that he happens to be sitting down.

His expression does turn a touch more thoughtful, more contemplative, as he continues.]

And you're right, of course. There are an awful lot of things here that seem far in advance of anything I've ever encountered. And admittedly, I became a much better physician after receiving my curse. No leeches necessary when all I need to do is lay hands on someone.

It would be more appropriate to refer to yourself as a healer if that’s the aid you now offer. Though, Healer Julian… it rather lacks the dignity of ‘doctor’.

[Once again, Geralt tops up Julian’s glass. In his comfortable warmth and growing drowsiness, he’s rather forgotten that they were only supposed to have a few drinks.]

As does ‘curse’ lack the dignity of ‘gift’, so one wonders why you choose the former to describe your ability.

[And he lifts his glass readily to be filled-- he does recall Geralt saying they were only going to indulge in a few, but he certainly has no intention of reminding him should the other man forget. In all likeliness Julian will keep drinking until such a time as Geralt cuts him off, he passes out, or they run out of gin.]

Hmm. I do rather prefer doctor, and I am medically trained. Plus, the villainous healer Julian Devorak doesn't sound right at all, does it?

[He smiles his very best villainous smile, arches a brow in a rakish manner. Never mind that the dubious accolade has very little to do with his true intentions or personality. Swigging from his glass, he grows a little more serious, though.]

And I suppose I call it that because...well. For a long time I believed it was a kind of punishment. A taunt, from that ex of mine. You see I um, I'm not...opposed to a bit of roughness, a bit...or a lot...of pain. And...well I'll spare you the details but I had reason to believe he might take some sly satisfaction from inflicting something on me that would mean the taking on of other people's wounds, and the fast healing of my own. Plus...when one believes oneself a murderer, or at least suspects it, sometimes one ends up wondering whether--

[He shakes his head, decides against admitting that he'd been quite ready to die, but that no wound he'd ever sustained had been enough to ensure it.]

But never mind all that. I suppose I know better now, so perhaps I ought to start calling it something else.

[Not bad, as villainous smiles go. Geralt would have him beat in that regard, though. He’s long since mastered the art of evil smiles, and he uses them regularly against people he doesn’t like.

But they’re not talking of smiles, and Geralt forces himself to focus while Julian is obliging his curiosity. Admittedly, he somewhat loses track after Julian mentions being a masochist, as it’s quite a private thing to be privy to.]

The magicians of your world sound increasingly like the ones of my own. I thank you for indulging me in an answer.

[Another mouthful of gin, and by now Geralt’s face should be showing some colour, but it’s remaining stubbornly pale. Another benefit of being a witcher: you can’t blush. Not without great effort, anyway.]

What might you call it instead?

[Something he may not have been so forthcoming about with a near-perfect stranger if he hadn't consumed quite so much gin. Then again, he's never been especially secretive about it, either. Another stark departure of their worlds perhaps, that few where he's from would consider that unusual knowledge, amongst friends. In any case, it's not the part of the conversation he intends to focus on, and he looks somewhat thoughtful as he drinks, giving the question ample consideration.]

Difficult to say. I'm not especially adept... [and he breaks off a moment to laugh, shake his head, start again more truthfully this time] I'm singularly ignorant when it comes to magic, anyone who knows me would tell you that. I find it...too abstract to really get to grips with, it all just seems like mumbo jumbo to me and I've never really trusted it. And yet here I am, embodied with it.

[His thick brows pull together in a frown, there's another sip of gin, and--]

An...augmentation, perhaps? Gift might be pushing it a bit, when I'm still not entirely sure of the full circumstances around having acquired it.

‘Augmentation’ sounds a sensible choice.

[He offers a few approving nods, then leans forward in his chair, arms draped over his knees. His posture has been growing steadily more relaxed throughout the night.]

As for your ignorance, I can empathise, to an extent. What magic I can wield is rudimentary, and what knowledge I have is far from complete, and there are sorceresses who have made it a habit to tease me of this fact, all while employing the creativity characteristic of those who hold the title of magician.

[With that decided upon, he sinks back further into the seat, runs a hand back through thick red hair, though the only effect it has is to send curls spilling back into his face a moment later.]

They're a tricky sort, magicians. And most of them are charlatans of course, the majority probably only know a bit more than I do about the whole thing. The really gifted ones, though...

[And his mind slides dangerously towards Asra for just a moment, to the things they'd both wittingly and unwittingly done to each other, how whatever there was between them turned, in the end, to poison in the blood...but then he shakes his head. Grins big.]

I think I'd rather stick with leeches.

[And he downs the rest of his drink.]

Edited 2019-01-19 13:19 (UTC)

We’ll have to disagree on that front. I’d rather be sucked on by a magician than a leech.

[The gin is clearly eroding his brain to mouth filter, but that doesn’t stop Geralt from drinking the contents of his glass in one swallow and then topping it up again. Which is primarily so he doesn’t have to look Julian in the eye after making such an announcement.

To avoid any witty remarks Julian might have about his choice of words, Geralt is quick to start speaking again, and change the topic in the process.]

How many glasses is that now… three? Four? In addition to our earlier drinks, we must be nearing double digits.

[He glances across the room, to where the bedroom is. A veritable trek after how much alcohol they've consumed.]

[Innuendo wouldn't usually catch him off-guard, but considering the other man has seemed nothing if not reserved all evening there's a moment of surprise when the words come. Though Julian is quick to arch a brow, to smile his most incorrigible smile, and had he been left unchecked a moment longer the response Geralt fears will come would, indeed, have left his lips.

The look remains, but anything he was about to say is abruptly cut off by the next pronouncement, and Julian eyes his empty glass with something like bleary concentration.]

I'll profess I've lost count. But I calculate we need...precisely three more before we're really good and drunk.

[Never mind that he sounds quite drunk already.]

[The suggestion of three more is enough to have Geralt arching an eyebrow right back. He’s pretty sure three more would lead right to the floor, and not necessarily the lounge room floor since they will be required to stand at some point.]

And what will happen once we’re ‘really good and drunk’? An attempt at singing? On your part, of course. I don’t have enough vocal range.

[Once thoroughly drunk, Geralt's more prone to falling asleep. Sometimes beneath tables and chairs, sometimes in peoples laps, and occasionally a few feet from whatever he is using as a bed.]

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