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duplicitymemes2019-01-11 06:40 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2019-01-11 06:40 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #4 ( revised )
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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. 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. |
 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. |
 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. |
 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. |
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!! |
Ysayle "Iceheart" Dangoulain // Final Fantasy XIV // Submissive
[ Allowing others bundled up against the weather to board to the train before she does, Ysayle pauses to look at the station ceiling again, then at the train coaches themselves. If it is supposed to be cold, this woman appears unaffected by the local chill. Indeed, her pale complexion, eyes and lips are a near-match for the icy clime.
Ysayle has seen airships before, both Ishgardian and Garlean; her own followers had helped sabotage the former on occasion, and as for the latter..
Nothing like this, however. All of this technology is beyond her ken. Yet another element to set her teeth on edge in the midst of strangeness.
When she finally steps aboard, Ysayle makes a point to take up residence alone by one of the windows. All the better to view the mark forced on her in her reflection, fingers occasionally lifting to press against the long black line. The orientation had not helped set her at ease at all, either, and she cannot help but frown as one of the contract 'couples' employed to demonstrate what was considered acceptable behaviour walk past her.
Only once they're gone does she look around to get a better view of her fellow passengers. Is everyone on board here really okay with this..? ]
II. >> SUB SICKNESS
[ Being so new has lent Ysayle at least temporary immunity from such attention: her own mark has become more of a burgeoning purple lately, while she familiarises herself with the situation. Yet learning more of how the Up and Down co-exist (hah!) had simply served to remind her of the divide between noble and commoner in Ishgard - those nesting high in the Pillars having control over the lives of those sheltered in the Brume.
Contract or no contract - is this life really that different?
It is in the midst of being politely, but firmly, turned away by a fruit vendor who will not sell his wares to an unpartnered sub that Ysayle gets partial confirmation of her assumption: she pays witness to the manhandling of those who's disobedience have made them "unacceptable". There's a yell that catches her attention, and soon the sight of three distinctly different people, mark colours unclear (at least from her current angle), are being herded to the exit elevators in no small amount of haste, shoved and shunned, until they're trapped inside. It's unpleasant. It's cruel.
And the way others turn their eyes away is simply unacceptable.
Almost immediately, heedless of whether such a thing is appropriate in Duplicity or how it might affect her own mark, Ysayle begins to move in that direction. Her icy expression heralds her own intent - that of intervention for those under siege.
Care to stage an intervention of your own, before she ends up in over her head? ]
III. >> END IN THE DISCORD
[ How can anyone call this cacophonous mess of sound music?
That much Ysayle is able to register over the constant pulse she can feel in her bones, an unknown beverage shaded a brilliant orange held in one hand and a smaller ticker-pager device clasped tight in the other.
Curiousity demanded she enter the lottery, but that did not mean she had to follow through if she were granted an assignment. Mindful of her burden, the elezen maiden slips through the crowd with ease; everyone stands out here, meaning she doesn't at all, and she plans to make the most of it as much as everyone else does. Mindful not to touch as she goes, however-- She cannot even be sure that Mother Hydaelyn's gifts work here, after all, but better not risk it in a place like this.
When chance allows, she takes advantage of a balcony perch, all the better to watch those below-- or tries to. ]
Ah, your pardon. Is this spot taken?
IV. >> WILDCARD
[ Have a different idea? Surprise me! c: ]
discord
the balcony offers some fresh air at least, which percy takes to gladly, his coat draped over the edge of it and his elbows leaned on its rail, staring out at the expanse of the city. he'd consider the sheer size of it marvelous in some respects if only it wasn't burned with a somewhat... unfortunate layout (something he'll just have to get used to).
he's glancing down at his hands when he hears someone at his left and he turns. ] Hm? Oh. No, not at all. Help yourself... [ plenty of space for two. they certainly look quite the pair at least, he realizes as he notes her pale hair in the cold city light. ]
\m/ party on
[ As one who has stood apart from the society she grew up in, all the better to observe the event from afar...even if the physical contact between others in plain sight leaves her with mixed feelings. She does not want the companionship on offer here, that much she knows.
Pale as she is, her own mark stands out -purple turning violet as it teeters on the precipice of grey- and she has made no effort to cover such, at least for now. But there is the slightest arch of a brow as she takes stock of the Hume male present at the balcony: hair white where hers is silver, while his clothing sporting a similar shade of blue dye to her own.
Quite the couple they make, at least where appearance alone is concerned. Though she hopes he makes no assumptions in her approach. ]
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Not to mention that place is stuffier than the engagements my family used to host when I was younger. Louder, and far too... dark? Why does a place like that need to be so incredibly dark?
[ he squints out indignantly into the city lights, as if they provide some contrast when in reality they're more like stars in the dark of the streets themselves. ]
This... will take some more getting used to than I initially thought.
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[ Surely such things must have occurred to him upon entry? He does not seem quite so old on second glance, though the pale hair adds years that hers does not; he is perhaps around her age or there abouts, four and twenty summers, if her reading of Hume aging is correct.
For her part, she's not exactly scandalised; those lower born weren't quite so hung up on purity of the womenfolk as the noble houses, though Halone forbid you be caught getting up to anything so illicit!
But there's a shamelessness in this city that reminds her of the darkness that lingers in these streets, and his comment gets a sympathetic nod. ]
Aye. For my part, I did not expect their candid induction of life here to prove so true.
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[ or taken me at all. there's a sigh that follows that, heavy as she nods herself. he's not going to fool himself into thinking this is hell. hell is sticky black tar coating his limbs, filling his mouth, finding his soul, wrapping around it, suffocating it. when he breathes, smoke turns to sludge.
here, there's none of that. no orthax crawling in the back of his mind, dug in deep like a scar. ]
What's the point of all this? Separating others this and that... there's not even a pattern. I've seen countless other people with these marks. They hardly have anything in common at least from basic observation.
[ he holds a beat then, perhaps having caught himself rambling. ] And where are my manners... Percival de Rolo III. And you?
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~~ Lies
Elezen ears certainly do stand out. And they're usually a welcome sign of a friendly face of just home in general. Ever has he kept an eye out for someone he might know. Be it dear Francel or perhaps even a brother that got swallowed up in this city. So when he sees the pale and pointed ears his heart leaps excitedly only for it to stop immediately after.
That is a familiar face indeed. The notorious Lady Iceheart. The Warriors of Light have told them all about her great and grand deeds and how the end of the Dragonsong War could not have been done without her. And yet... the sins against his people and own fellow knights is not so easily forgotten. And he has had a hard time swallowing that she played some heroic part. But as the woman seems to be here herself mayhaps he should just hear it from her.
When their gazes meet he decides to just approach her. If his Warrior of Light trusted her to any extent then he, to some extent, can do the same. Carefully, he approaches her, placing a hand on his chest with the slightest of bows in greeting.]
Lady Iceheart, I presume.
[He's trying.]
tiny scream oh no :D
It is only in the glance back up to her reflection, then refocusing to watch the reflection of others within the carriage, that she realises she's being watched. She does not turn, not immediately, but he cannot fail to see how her eyes widen, lips parting briefly as startlement takes hold.
Haurchefaunt Greystone. Commander of Camp Dragonhead.
Or rather, former commander. Though she had not been witness to the mighty blow that had felled him within the Vault, this much she had learned in the wake of shepherding heretics out and away from the city proper. She had heard tales, shared around campfires, about what he had done for the Warrior of Light and Alphinaud upon their flight to Coerthas. And she had respected his position, even as the harriers had danced elusively around his forces, evading capture and seizing goods sent to Mor Dhona. Men and women had died, on both sides, and no amount of regret would bring them back.
(Is this place truly the land of the dead, then? What could this man have done to earn punishment in one of the Seven Hells? Or is this meeting merely a punishment for her alone?)
When he decides to approach, she straightens her back, expression assuming what she hopes is an impassive mask as she turns towards him. He has more claim to nobility through his blood than she, making the bow unnecessary, but it is not until he addresses her that she shakes her head. ]
Perhaps once, but no longer. The woman that bore that name is dead. [a beat; let him assume whatever meaning he might wish from that statement] ..My name is Ysayle.
8^)
He worked so very hard for his position considering his birth and he finds once more that he'd give anything to be behind that desk once more. That she and him could be rival forces upon the snow once more. Life, perhaps not better, was at least simpler. And it certainly wasn't this. But that is not something that either of them can have again.]
Lady Ysayle it is then... [It would be easy to give in to long harbored frustrations and anger at all that she has caused and done. For the lives stolen by her whims and will. But he knows more than he did back then and it would be an insult onto some of the last few words he and his Warrior of Light shared to act in any sort of vengeance.] You and the Azure Dragoon stole away the Warrior of Light to faraway lands for a painfully lengthy amount of time. Through your deeds it put an end to the Dragonsong War. And furthermore I was told you were felled in assisting our friends get to the Archbishop and his Heavens' Ward... those who were the cause of my own demise. And for those deeds you would have my ever eternal thanks. Ishgard is better for your actions.
Your actions at Dragonhead are not so easily forgiven. But at this point... it would seem unwise and senseless to hold onto anger. For there is naught to be done about the past. If you are friend to my hero... than mayhaps, in time, you could be friend to me too.
[It's the right stance to take. He knows this to be true. He believed in back then too when he first really saw her clearly and put himself in front of the Temple Knights to stop their pursuit. It is even more imperative to hold true to that stance here where there is no room for enemies of the past. Is life not miserable enough as it is? Why make things worse? And perhaps the most swaying of all of this is that his Warrior of Light truly believed that Ysayle's heart was ever in the right place.]
I am simply sorry to see you here as well... This is no place for someone such as yourself.
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Her own martial prowess may not measure well against the likes of the Warrior of Light, nor even the Azure Dragoon, but Ysayle lacks not the means to summon spells to her finger tips should such a thing be desired. To summon something far more powerful...
Well, that is beyond her now, in this place.
Would that they could resume their cat and mouse games across Coerthas, dancing unaware to tunes sung in motion to plots unknown from so long ago. But they have both learned too much, come too far, to turn back time now. Still, far better existence that to be stuck in this place, with its direct requirements to meet the satisfaction of persons unknown under the guise of encouraged hedonism. ]
I stole no-one. [her interjection is not sharp, a faint trace of humour couched within] Lest you forget, ser, it was they who sought me out as a guide, and gave me good reason not to refuse them.
[ She looks uncomfortable as he continues, however; this train is a place overly public for such talk to her mind, and too many polite faces turning an attentive ear their way. Who told him these things..? But better not to interrupt him when he is being so frank, that would be rudeness of its own. So she waits until he takes time to catch his breath once more. ]
I have not the right to ask for forgiveness. But if you are willing to allow for time to pass, then, I would not be opposed to such things. [she is entirely alone here, after all] And if there could be friendship... Then just 'Ysayle' is fine.
[ 'Ishgard is better for your actions.' Would that she could believe such things were so. ]
I would say this is a place none deserve to be in. [she shakes her head] Perhaps we should take a seat? [there are plenty within the carriage, and subs seem to group together; it would not draw comment]
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But there is no sense in arguing that specific point when only good came from the exchange. He wishes to continue to discuss the more pressing things regardless of the setting. As he has alway done, Haurchefant will speak as he pleases where he pleases despite what others around him might say. This would be no different and to him all the more appropriate because who here would care that much about their personal business?
(The answer is, of course, many.)
But at the very least she seems receptive to the idea of mutual friendship. Which is good. Because to have her still as his enemy while dealing with this city would be far from ideal. And she even grants him her name. He's heard it before from a few but never has he actually used it. She's always been Lady Iceheart on his tongue. And it is fine time that he changed that...]
Lady Ysayle is is then... And you may call me Haurchefant. I am glad to find us on the same side.
[At her insistence that they at least sit down he does oblige taking one of the many seats with a free seat beside so she can sit as well.]
I don't disagree... this is not a place for anyone. Though I had thought, for a small amount of time, that I was being punished for something and that is why I was here. [That thought process has mostly passed, thankfully.] That does not seem to be the case, or I don't think so at the very least.
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Sub Sickness
[ A low and steady voice, not far from her ear. A grip comes to close around her wrist, keeping her back. ]
You are but one woman and there are few friends here.
[ Haurchefant and his presence had prepared him for the sensations that he would feel now, looking at this woman, feeling the warmth of her skin under his hand and seeing how the sunlight catches on her hair. They are the features of the living, not some revenant or spectre, and he can't even entertain the thought of trickery or undeath, as he had when he and Haurchefant had first come face to face moons ago.
It is she.
It can only be she.
And he needs not ask what her intention is. It is writ in every line of her body and the thin cold press of her lips. He doesn't blame her; he's done the same.
That is why he stops her now. ]
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So certain is she in her intent that her usually heightened awareness is blind to the approach of a familiar figure. Already run ragged in so strange a city and surrounded by unknown peoples, it means she cannot evade the grasp from seemingly nowhere, and the sudden stop is startling as someone siezes her arm.
Hold? Who would think to command her so? Ysayle looks down at the hand holding her wrist, a thunderous look beginning to form on her face, before she turns on her heel, trying to twist her arm free while facing this interloper proper. ]
Release me! [hardly the tone of an obedient submissive] You cannot mean to--
[ Words stall as Ysayle lifts her gaze and finds it meet Estinien's, then fail entirely at the threshold. Beneath his fingers, the Azure Dragoon might find her pulse flutters, a steady beat too certain and strong to be possessed by any other than the living.
Oh.
(This is, she realises distantly, the first time he has looked at her quite so directly, with no visor lowered between them.) ]
..You.
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[ Not in the open where their actions have already drawn their attention to the both of them: more than a few eyes among the crowd were drawn by Ysayle's purposeful steps from before and yet more were caught by her brief outburst. ]
Come with me.
[ She can, of course, refuse him; if she pulls hard at her arm, he will not stop her.
But his eyes are intent and his expression deeply serious, belying the everyday clothes and the bag hung on one elbow. She caught him shopping, of all things, but he considers himself finished for the day.
He jerks his chin toward a side street. ]
There. It's less busy.
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Her wrist twists, not quite enough to break his grasp, but enough that she might look back--
Gone. All that remain are self-satisfied looking fellows walking away from what they see as a task well done, while others appoint themselves watchmen at the Elevator itself.
If anything, that makes any argument to continue moot. ]
Very well, then. [her voice can't quite hide the ill grace with which she accepts this change of plan, but it is lowered between them, and she forces herself to relax.] After you.
[ It is not quite a picture of obedience, but if the Azure Dragoon leads, she will follow, and that will hopefully satisfy expectations around them. ]
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Not surprisingly, the lane is empty.
He takes ten steps, strides enough to get them out of earshot of the street, and then turns to look upon her. He at last lets her go, giving her space to back away, to keep that gulf between them that had become so customary as to be comfortable.
He notices, now, the mark just under her chin.
Displeasure flits across his expression, there and gone in a blink. ]
It goes without saying that the people here possess a technology and ability that neither you nor I can contend with.
You will have to take more care.
(no subject)
discord
Turning around to see Ysayle causes a peculiar procession of emotions to cross her face: first slow, open-mouthed surprise; then the look of one who has something important to say, or perhaps wants to leap at a long-lost friend with a relieved embrace; and then, finally, to a smile that can't quite be rid of the sadness within it.]
By you, I imagine.
[Oh, gods. Think. Think long and hard about it. Don't screw this one up. Just try to be nice. Ysayle has ever been a kind and passionate soul, to even a glaring fault, so... surely if she keeps herself together...]
I had intended just to observe for tonight, but... I can't say company would go amiss at this point. Drinks usually get a touch too cold for me after a while when taken alone.
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That is distinctly what this woman is, unlike the would-be "cat people" who frequented parts of the city's lower and upper districts. Perhaps the surprise in turn is due recognizing an Elezen? Yet that can't be all it is, for all the stranger's expression seems to pass through multiple emotions. She cannot be certain whyfor, when they have ne'er encountered one another prior to now, and yet--
There's something else, too. It scratches like a vague itch to the back of her mind. A memory reshuffled, sorted out of place. For a moment, her brow furrows, trying to place the woman before her.
..It'll come in time, perhaps. For the moment, the woman called Iceheart will offer a small smile. ]
My thanks. I confess, I know not what this is, [holding up her own strange orange confection] save that it appears popular with the establishment. Given it was free, I think I can wait a spell before I try it.
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I'm afraid I don't know, either, but it's... warming, at any rate. And gods know warmth is something we could all use a little of these days.
[Be it in the literal temperature sense or... otherwise. Irhya falls into an awkward silence, searching for a way to approach the inevitable. She can't hide it and pretend to be innocent anymore, but to explain the situation makes things all the more complicated. One side a close friend of the other, but a set of memories not shared mutually... it's hard to say whether it's harder for the Warriors of Light, or the people who then feel obligated to try and meet their expectations.]
Hey... there's something I need to say, but I know it's going to stretch all disbelief by malms at a time. Even so, will you listen? If not as a chosen of Hydaelyn... then as Ysayle, the woman with a title that betrays her warm ideals?
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I
Ysayle-?
[ He blurts her name out before considering that he should call for her more discreetly- but he had not expected his deceased companion to be boarding a train here, of all places!
Though Ysayle may not recognize him, he clearly recognizes her, eyes wide, tail puffing up behind him. The Miqo'te is a beautiful man, with gorgeous features and a brilliant, striking coloration, all of which are accented by his rather luxurious taste in silks. The dress robes he wears still designate him as a skilled mage- but the scarf he wears serves to try and hide as much of his mark as possible. Besides, it's cold out, and he'd rather not freeze.
He sits more upright in his seat, and then stands altogether to try and offer her a hand, to urge her into a private train cabin. ]
Er- my lady, this way, please...?
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The speaker is unknown to her; one would be hard-pressed to forget a miqo'te so striking, and the ice maiden has ever been long of memory.
She cannot help but narrow her eyes, lips parting to question the man as he starts gesturing towards the private cabins, before she notes the line beneath his chin. Even with the tasteful scarf concealing most of it, she bears such a line on her own body, bold against pale skin.
She does not relax, precisely, but she does incline her head. ]
All right. Lead the way.
[ Do not think she'll leave her back exposed to you, stranger. But she will follow. ]
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