duplicitymemes | TDM #4 ( revised )

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«tdm

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

[His wandering is aimless, lost in thought and turning the circumstances of his arrival here over and over inside his head, trying to make sense of it all, trying to have it sink down into the bones of him in the hope that it will start to feel like something other than the strangest of fever-dreams. He's so caught up in the otherness of it all that his surroundings pass him by in a blur, distant and unnoticed.

That is, until he hears the shape of his name - his pet name, no less, the name only one person is likely to use - notes the familiarity of her voice as he begins to turn around, confused and--

--and. Portia slams into him hard enough to knock the breath from him, to send him stumbling back a step before he's able to catch himself. It's second-nature, though, to wind his arms around her in turn and whilst there's a sudden blossoming of gladness in him at the welcome sight of her, it's all caught up in his concern and, quite frankly, his confusion.]

Pasha, what are you doing here?

[There's worry in his voice as he looks down at the woman clinging to him, and its a smattering of seconds before he picks up on the other thing.]

What are you talking about, came back?

...what?

[Her brow furrows, and she cranes her head back to look at him in equal and opposite confusion.

She still doesn't let go just yet, though.]

Ilya, I've been here for months. And you were here before me, same as Asra. Do you...

[She presses her lips together, thinking hard. Unbidden, Leo and Takumi and their whole temporal-spatial mess rises to the forefront of her mind.]

No. Forget all that for now; what's the last thing that you remember?

[His confusion (worry, concern) deepens like a coastal shelf because none of this makes any sense, leaves his head spinning almost as hard as it had when he'd first stepped into that lab room filled with eerily-smiling strangers. His hands slide up to clasp her shoulders as he stares down into her upturned face, attempting to discern any trace of illness there, any trace of injury or difference or something.]

I...

[He starts, but she's abruptly changing track and, readily enough, he focuses on the part he can answer.]

I was in Vesuvia, awaiting to be led to the gallows. Surely you recall?

[He says it with just a touch of guilt, ugly situation that it must have been for her.]

[Her jaw tightens, and she lets out a slow breath.]

...yes. Vividly. I still have nightmares, from time to time, I remember it so well. ...I was taken here from the night of the Masquerade that your execution kicked off, and the Ilya I met here at that point had already been here for some time.

[She mulls that over, deflates a little, then hugs him tighter.]

If it's a different timeline thing, well... whatever. Where or whenever you got pulled in from, it doesn't make you any less my big brother, though... you're going to have a lot of people who recognize you without you being able to say the same, sorry. Just... chalk it up to weird magic for now, until we get you settled. Have they given you the whole welcome spiel yet?

[The night of the masquerade, the Ilya she met here-- separately the words she's saying make sense but when strung together in that specific order she loses him. Again his head spins dangerously and he momentarily releases her, raises one leather-gloved hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, attempting to settle himself.

It seems the longer he spends here, the stranger things become.]

I'm not sure this is making any sense, it's been a long day, uh--

[And he clears his throat, starts again. Once more, he latches onto the parts of what she's saying that are easiest to hold on to.]

Yes, I had the whole welcome thing. It's all a bit much, honestly.

Um... alright, quick mental image: imagine a bookshelf where every book is the same story, more or less, except maybe one character is a girl in one of the copies and a boy everywhere else, or somebody made one pivotal choice or another, but mostly things happen? Um, happen along the same lines, and time.

[She'll invite him to dinner and have Leo explain it; he has the most experience, and is in fact a magical scholar to boot.]

So, the first Ilya I met? Probably from a different copy of the book than you, if you can't remember this place yourself.

[She goes up on her tiptoes and reaches up to tousle his bangs reassuringly.]

...hey. Hey, it's gonna be alright. This place is... really shitty in a lot of ways, I won't lie. But you've got me, and Asra's going to be thrilled to see you again too. We'll take care of you, Ilyushka; I promise.

[All this talk of books and chapters and alternate choices-- he listens, but none of it is really sinking in, just whirls around in circles through his mind instead, too insubstantial for him to grasp onto. He always has been better with practicalities, things one can examine and take apart with one's hands. All this metaphorical stuff, it's better left to the likes of magicians.

Perhaps later, when he's had more time to take it in, more time for reflection, it will begin to make a kind of sense. For now though, it remains mired within the realms of confusion. He could really use some coffee, to clear his head. Perhaps something stronger.

Put Portia's reaching out for him, fingers through his hair and it grounds him back into himself, temporarily. Allows him to ignore the more confusing aspects of their situation, focuses it down onto his sister instead.

He slides on a smile for her.]

Really I should be the one taking care of you. Are you all right, Pasha? This place seems very, um...it's not the kind of place one wants to find their sister.

[That part about Asra just sounds off, so for the moment he'll choose to ignore it. Give him a moment.]

...I’m—

[fine, she wants to say, but her throat goes right on that lie. She’s still recovering from the emotional damage of what was forced on her during that night in Patara, even if the physical damage has been tended to. But she—she can’t say it. She can’t say anything about it because she knows him.

Ilyushka, they wouldn’t stop—

You disappeared again and I thought it was forever this time—

Ilyushka, they hurt me and you being here wouldn’t have stopped them.

No. No, she can’t breathe a word of that. She doesn’t want to hurt him like that. She imagines that’s a big brother’s worst nightmare and he hasn’t even come to grips with her just being in a place like this, and what that means she has done at least three times a month since arriving.

...best not to bring what she was and wasn’t willing to do into it already.]

...I’m intimately familiar with the feeling. I came here and found you pretty well established after all. But, don’t worry Ilya! I’m a Dominant and... we’ll, shortly after My group of arrivals showed up, all of us were ushered off to a weeklong trip on a luxury boat and randomly paired off with an opposite designated person.

[She goes... very, very pink.

Well, the Devorak Moon Eyes are easy enough to spot.]

That’s, um, that’s how I met my Leo. The Ilya on the boat turned me down flat when I offered to contract with him and... well, Leo and I sort of—we contracted but, he’s my—he’s just... wonderful.

[She beams up at him.]

I’m so happy with him, Ilyushka. He’s a dream come true. ...oh! I own a business now too; a bath house!

[Well that certainly sounds like him, is exactly what he's sure he'd say if she were to suggest he contract with her now, but it's all still too dizzying and strange to really think about, for him to want to dwell on. Later. He'll think about it later, and whilst he's filled with worry and concern for the things she may have had to do here, for the things she may have been subjected to that don't even bear thinking about (and he should have been here shouldn't he, to watch over her and look after her and take her worries onto himself, bear them for her), for the moment he decides to pick and choose what he attends to.

Because of course he knows that wide-eyed look, and the way she beams up at him as she talks suffuses his chest with a deep enduring warmth that has him smiling back at her regardless of all the ugly turmoil and confusion. She looks happy, and that counts for something, doesn't it?

Counts for a lot.

He beams back at her, and there's something in his face that speaks of pride, crowding out at least some of his sharper fears for her.]

Pasha, look at you! Doing so well without me. So you have a new lover and your own business? And a bath house, no less. I'd like to see it. It sounds like a piece of home.

I named it the Vesuvian, but I made sure to show some Nevivon spirit! I’m... really proud of it, honestly. It seems pretty popular! ...and not without you. The first Ilya I met and Asra helped me gather enough funds to get things in order in the first place.

[She squeezes him again, her heart nearly full to bursting, and kisses him swiftly on each cheek before dropping back down from her tiptoes.]

Pepi ended up here with me, as well as the dogs, and—oh. Oh, shit. You’re from... before the Masquerade. Shit.

[She releases one arm to finger-comb her hair back nervously.]

...I have to tell you something and it... it’s not good but you should try and stay calm. Okay? ...the old count is here. Alive.

No, um, right. Not without me. Of course. And...Asra.

[She's going too fast for him to keep up with and a deep abiding sense of the surreal sweeps over him then, threatens to overtake him. He's both seen and done a lot of strange things, and so many of them talking place within such a short time, but this-- well. It's perhaps the strangest yet and he isn't sure how he's supposed to take it. How he ought to react.

(Perhaps to go and get very, very drunk.)

He's standing there a little stunned, accepts the affection she showers him with all whilst his mind races to catch up, and he begins to think he ought to lie down for a while (or you know, return to his shared room and mutter and pace and fret).

She's still speaking though, and the nervousness starts to come off her in waves and she's telling him he ought to stay calm and...and--

She says Lucio is alive.]

What!?

[He neither sounds or looks very calm.]

He comes back to life or... goes back to having a body instead of being a ghost thing, the night of the Masquerade.

[She doesn’t get all of it, just the highlights of information passed along during a hectic time—Lucio caused the plague, there’s some God’s mixed up in this nonsense, the Devil is a goat and even more of an asshole than the standard goat, etcetera—but poor Julian is totally in the dark.]

And he showed up here, from there. He, uh... well, I made sure he doesn’t know who I am to you but we spoke and he knows I served Milagros and have his dogs. Please be careful, Ilya. I-I don’t want him to hurt you.

I...well.

[He all but staggers back a pace and casts his eye about him briefly, looking for a convenient chair or stoop he could drop down onto (there isn't one, though). His head hurts, this doesn't make sense, Lucio is here, and she doesn't want the Count to hurt him but his own concerns don't lie in that direction. It doesn't matter if he gets hurt after all, he's the one best placed to take it so that she - or anyone else - doesn't have to.

he tries to steady himself around that thought, sets his jaw resolutely, and there's a steely gleam in his eye that she might recognise.]

Well that's good, that he doesn't know our connection. And you're all right, Pasha? He hasn't...bothered you, has he?

He hit on me while naked as a jay first time I ran into him here, but other than some arguments over dogs and his own... suitability, that’s it. He’s never touched me, I promise.

[She takes his hands in hers and squeezes them.]

Here, come home with me for a bit; you look like you could use a chance to, uh, let this settle. And a good meal. And about six drinks.

[He'd hit on her whilst naked. The Count is alive and he hit on Pasha whilst naked. She says he never touched her and there's an earnestness in her voice that makes him think it true and yet there's the sensation of cold fingers trailing the lebgth of his spine and his thoughts move through him, darkly.

He's going to have to make sure it stays that way. And it doesn't matter, particularly, what he has to do i order to ensure it.

He says nothing of that though, doesn't want to worry her or involve her at all if he can get away with it, and so as she squeezes his hand he returns the gesture, wraps long fingers around her smaller ones.]

Six drinks? Make it eight and we may have a deal.

...hey. Ilyushka, you know if you let him hurt you I’ll never forgive either of us, right?

[It’s a desperate failsafe. To hurt himself like that is equated with hurting her; a nuclear option to be sure, but if you want to get through his dramatic skull you have to beat him at his own game: needless, ceaseless sacrifice.]

We’ll crack open a few bottles and see where that takes us. Come on.

[She squeezes back and begins leading him toward the Up housing, a childish bounce in her step as she goes.]

I’ve been saving up for a cottage and I’m getting close to the goal, but I’ve made the apartment as homey as possible. I think you’ll like it.

[There's a brief pause in his movements, then, before he continues to follow her. She knows him too well, evidently.]

Pasha, you can't expect me to just stand back and do nothing when there's the risk he might do something to you. I may not be good for very many things, but that much is something I can do.

[He says it, but there's the trace of something vaguely chastened in his voice regardless-- playing him at his own game, that's a dirty trick. But it's one that carries some weight to it. He doesn't want to be the reason she feels any kind of hurt.

His own pace is a lot less light, less joyful, as he follows along with his hand held in hers because if he can't throw himself blindly into dramatic self-sacrifices, then what can he do to help her?]

And oh, I'm sure you've done a wonderful job. Your cottage back in Vesuvia was very inviting.

[And there's a pang in him, then. The thought that she is better off without having someone like him around her. A disaster waiting to happen.]

There’s a risk I trip down the stairs and break my neck, too. Ilyushka, don’t always assume the only option is to throw yourself on the sword to block it, alright? It’s not you, me, and him alone in a dark alley. I’m a Dominant and he’s a Submissive, too, and even if I think the laws are shitty I can still use them against him if it comes down to it. We can make plans and strategize to keep everyone safe—together.

[She bumps him with her shoulder, her smile turning gentle.]

Hey. A house is just a bunch of walls with an extra one on top. If you want to make it a home, you gotta put your heart into it. ...don’t forget why I even went to Vesuvia—to the palace—in the first place, dummy.

[It's an answer that surprises him. Not that she'd use logic and reason to try and make him see that he doesn't have to throw himself bodily between every danger he encounters and those he loves, that much he expects, is accustomed to, even if on this occasion the logic seems strong and certain, far more than his dubious protection might be. No, it's the news about Lucio and his new social status that makes him scoff, thick auburn brows raising practically into his hairline.]

Hah. Lucio is a submissive? Now there are two words I didn't expect to find in the same sentence.

[Because his own status only seems logical, entirely deserved, and as such he'd supposed that some form of reasoning went into it no matter what others might say on the matter. This revelation precludes that, it seems.

She bumps him with familiar playfulness, and he drops his grip on her hand only to sling one long arm around her shoulders, but--]

Well. Some people are better made for it than others. At building something solid, that matters.

[Not him, he means, of course.]

There's no apparent rhyme or reason to the assignments, as best I can tell. I'm nothing like Milady, for instance, but my Submissive? My Leo? He's out and out royalty. You'll only give yourself a headache, trying to find some logic to it.

[She nestles into his side, melting straight into age-old reflex. She slings an arm around his waist, and pinches his bony hip for that last little bit of praise, with its hidden, self-deprecating edge.]

Hey. Hey. Some people are meant for houses, and some for ships. Like Mazelinka and Lilinka. It's not better or worse, it just... is. No two happinesses are alike, but if they could make it work their entire lifetime, so can we. Love endures; on top of everything else, they taught us that well enough, right?

[There's certainly a comfort in the closeness of her, in the familiar shape of her pressed against his side, and it's a comfort that grows rather than falters when the tips of her fingers pinch at the scant flesh over his hip. He yelps dramatically, more for effect than from pain, the sound of it breaking around an affectionate laugh.

He has thoughts about what she's saying. Thoughts he chooses not to voice because he already knows she won't agree, or will argue against them in some way. Thoughts to the tune of, if he's been made a second-class citizen here it's because in some way he deserves it, that they've seen into some ugly part of him and recognised him for what he is. To the tune of, whilst he doesn't doubt that the love they have for each other can ever be eroded, it doesn't mean that having him around for any length of time could be a good or desirable thing, that he's best loved from a distance. That when it comes to love of any other kind besides the familial, he'd only find some way to spoil it, to poison the hearts of all lovers against him.

Sensible and not at all melodramatic things like that.

So he decides the thing to focus on is her new-found love, something he fully believes stands far more of chance than anything he could ever have.]

My sister, the princess. Or is it Queen, Duchess, Countess? Should I be calling you Milady now? Don't go forgetting your lowly wretch of a brother when you're living the high life, will you.

[And he flashes her his most incorrigible grin.]

We're not married.

[She pinches him again but... well, something about the way she says it is contemplative, beneath the dismissal.]

...besides, it's... it's not a very happy tale, how he ended up King. Given the choice, and the chance to bring his one confident I think—I think he'd come back to me to Vesuvia in a heartbeat.

[She leans her head into him, ear to his heart. Her voice is small and soft, like when they were children murmuring fanciful ideas of 'someday' late at night after Mazelinka came home, full of stories.]

I'll never forget you, Ilyushka. Never ever. The stars'll all go out and the seas will dry up sooner than that. No matter how far or off-course your ship takes you, my door's always going to be wide-open and waiting to welcome you back.

Oh my, that does sound serious, if he'd be willing to move all that way for you. You have been busy, Pasha.

[Wherever Vesuvia happens to lie in comparison to this-- but its a dizzying thought, one he decides not to think too hard on, right now.]

You'll have to introduce me. Or, um, reintroduce me...I suppose.

[There's the slight inward pull of his eyebrows at that, the whole concept still beyond him but...best not to spoil happy reunions by dwelling on those things. It's something he can contemplate in greater depth, later, when he's alone with it.

For now...there's an intensity in her words that has heat rising up in him, and as such - of course - he laughs it off whilst pulling her that little bit more tightly against him.]

And you call me dramatic.

Of course. Did you really think I'd let you get away without coming to dinner or visiting the Vesuvian? Leo works there and helps me with the financial side of things.

[She wrinkles her nose up at him, going a bit pink too.

But she laughs, high and bright.]

What can I say? You were a horrible influence when I was little.

Pasha, you wound me.

[And it might be more convincing if he didn't say it around the shape of a grin.]

But if that's the worst my influence has had on you, you should consider yourself lucky.

[And its self-depreciating, yes, but he says it with a bump of his bony hip against her, and his tone is light, all tease.]

Now how much further is it, anyway? I'm ready to get good and drunk. Maybe if I drink enough, something about this situation might just begin to make sense.

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