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 « « «

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[The door opens smoothly, and she leads him past the elevator doors. At the very least, she rationalizes, they're bright, brushed silver; not wrought iron backlit by an eerie red glow. Still, even if the stairwell echoes, she doesn't mind a little bit of climbing.]

...you woke up again, if that's what you mean.

[She grips the railing, letting her gaze fall so she can watch her step and not totally broadcast the look that sentence puts on her face.]

This is all thirdhand since I had a grandstanding ex-ghost to clean up after while the rest of you worked your magic, but... well, in short, the count caused the plague, and it was going to come back because he did. So... I guess, I guess you found one of the answers you were looking for with that gamb le.

Oh. Oh, good.

[He says it with some measure of relief, with a slight loosening of the shoulders because even if he doesn't understand it, can't wrap his head around how such a thing could possibly be, his trust in Portia is absolute, unshakable. She wouldn't lie to him on some cruel whim amidst all of this other strangeness, this much he knows.

Which...works to ignite his guilt in the next instance, and even if she averts her gaze it's hard to miss the hesitation there, would take a bigger fool than him to realise what he'd done must have been wretched, terrifying for her. And that's a knowledge that reiterates to him what he already knows-- that he's a disaster to be around, that he causes only difficulty and pain.

She's still talking though, and as he listens his brow furrows, mulling it over, thinking it through.]

Which would mean killing Lucio would have ended the plague, and killing him a second time would have prevented a second wave. Only I didn't kill him, which begs the question, who did, and why...

[He's thinking aloud, words half-muttered as he walks, and it takes him a moment to realise she's probably heard this before, that it's only novel, and of interest, to him. He stops himself, there. Moves to take her hand in his.]

All that with the hanging...I'm sorry. It must have frightened you.

[And perhaps she's heard that before too, but he doesn't care. Feels the need to say it anyway.]

[She stops, her head whipping up. Unsurprisingly, the glare she levels at him is brimming with tears.]

Dont—don't you dare—

[Her lower lip wobbles.]

You aren't sorry at all. You'd—you'd do it again, in a h-heartbeat! It's bad enough I had to see that but don't lie to me about it!

[Her shoulders heave once, twice, her voice echoing briefly before she scrubs at her cheeks.]

..."frightened" doesn't begin to cover it.

[Her voice isn't bitter. It's small again. She takes a deep, composing breath, and musters up an attempt at a smile.]

...I-I guess... you'll understand when you have to bury me, someday.

[Talk about revenge being served cold.]

[The vehemence of it, the suddenness-- it surprises him. Takes him so off-guard that he stumbles back a step, almost trips over his own long legs and narrowly avoids falling down the stairs. He catches himself before that happens though, is left standing wide-eyed and wretched as her eyes gleam with tears and the words sink into his bones like blades.

It hurts him to hear it, it does, a pain the blooms large behind the ribs and spreads out from the centre of him, made worse by the fact that she is right. He's sorry he hurt her, a kind of sorry that's big and genuine but somehow not enough because yes he would do it again. Even now, after hearing this, were he to return to the gallows tomorrow without the knowledge he needed he wouldn't lift so much as a finger to prevent them from hanging him.

And then her final words, like a bullet through the heart, and it does pain him to hear it, she's quite right about that.

And this, this, is why no one should ever get close to him. Because he'll hurt them callously, ruthlessly, without even meaning to do it. Without even giving it consideration.

He wants to say it again, to change the words around, to say he's sorry he hurt her with his recklessness but that the end results were necessary. Wants to sweep her up in his arms and attempt to comfort her, but ultimately he keeps quiet, thinks better of it. Suspects if he does she may hit him. Would be within her rights to. Instead, he says nothing at all for several long and painful moments.

When he finally does respond, it's somewhat weakly.]

Well, um. That won't happen, will it. No doubt you'll outlive me by a long shot.

[You know, what with all the reckless stupidity. It's probably not a helpful statement.]

Ilya, the worst plague ever and a noose couldn't put you in your grave. And I...

[She laughs, faint and mirthless.]

Well, I'm just not special the way you are, Ilyushka. I-I don't have any healing magic. I don't—

[She rubs at her cheek again, inhaling roughly to choke back a second wave of tears.]

You're... you're not always going to be there to pull me out of the shipwreck, I think we both know that after three years of nothing. So...

[She rubs her arms, as if to warm herself up, or perhaps a comforting self-hug.]

So. Yeah. Might be a thing you need to—brace for, eventually.

[There's no bracing for watching your sibling, your family, your only flesh and blood go limp and lifeless. She doesn't say it outright, but she doesn't need to, she thinks.]

...sorry.

[And much as he wants to deny it, she has a point. Whilst he hardly considers himself special despite all the things that he's done and have been done to him, all the ways he's survived and moved beyond the realm of what is normal, it's impossible to see himself in such terms. Twisted, wrong, cursed, a blight on those who know him yes, but special isn't a word that applies.

But the point remains. That he isn't always around, that he can't be relied upon, that he finds ways of side-stepping horrors that would have killed most people but won't always be there to save the people who matter to him.

That she might die before him-- it's something that fills him with cold horror and through that inverted mirror he can begin to see - really see - the pale shadow of what his hanging might have done to her.

He doesn't have a comeback for this. Fumbles over the the things he could say but again and again he comes up wanting. So in the end he stands there with his broad shoulders slumped and his eye averted and says nothing at all.

Quite possibly it's the first time in his life where he's been shocked into silence.]

[She reaches up and cups his face in her palms, rough callouses gently scraping across sharp cheekbones.]

I love you, Ilyushka.

[It's less a profession of affection now, and more like a lesson she seems to be trying to impress upon him.]

No matter how far you go or what you do, or don't do, even if you never speak to me or visit for the rest of my life—you can't make me stop loving you. Even if you had done something—if you had earned your place on the gallows—I'd still love you. To the very end.

[He blinks down at her as she cups his face and tries to teach him this lesson of love, and there's a sting there, a mild and building burn that leaves his one visible eye somewhat red-rimmed and - vaguely - glistening. He wants to tell her that he loves her too, but that he thinks her love is misplaced, that after everything he's done, he's frankly, irrefutably, undeserving of it.

But he also feels sure that what she says it true, that she's likely to go on loving him regardless. And so he bites it back and holds it down, says nothing of it.]

I think I'd like that drink, now.

We can get that sorted for you.

[Love isn't earned, is the crux of their miscommunication.

She pulls him down to smack a kiss on his forehead, then resumes climbing. It's the next landing up, and she leads him to her half of the hall easy enough.]

...remember; the dogs are here, so be wary of nipping and whatnot.

[Perhaps one of these days he may even come to accept that.

For now, he allows her to pull him down for that kiss before once again unbending. Follows her up vaguely sheepishly, but following all the same.]

Those dogs. They never were very friendly.

[He says it absently.]

They weren't raised right. I've undone what I could, since I started working at the palace.

[She unlocks the door and they are immediately treated to the sight of two gorgeous white hounds, sprawled out and snoozing regally in a white pile on the couch.]

...lazy brats. Pepi's around somewhere; either in our room or the spare one.

[But she heads to the kitchen, rummaging around in the cabinets and fridge until she gets a couple bottles of beer and an entire handle of rum.]

So. Is this a glasses sort of day, or a straight-from-the-source sort?

[So she says, but he gives the dogs a wide and vaguely wary berth regardless. Instead his focus falls on her apartment, eye roving appraisingly over the size of the space, the furniture, all the trappings. Looking out for all the signs that she truly is doing well here, that she's as happy and settled as one can be when one has been kidnapped and thrust into a strange and disturbing new world.

He casts his glance back over the angle of his shoulder, though, when she asks her question, and finally there's the reappearance of his curved-blade smile.]

Oh, straight from the source, most definitely.

[All over, there are signs of Portia's touch; the furniture is provided, but there's an assortment of knickknacks, hand-made blankets, and some other touches that are notably hers; familiar enough, compared to her cottage. Aside from that, there's a great deal of books, and a few darker, more masculine creature comforts here and there.]

Good man.

[She slides the rum across the counter at him, and twists open a beer for herself.]

To reunions.

[And it's...nice. It is. she seems comfortable and well set up here, and that settles something inside of him, one small worry he can dispense with. Despite everything, all his clattering confusion and head-spinning concern, the sharper edges of the conversation in the stairway, the news that Lucio walks amongst them-- well. There's a small swell of pride at her capability, the fact that she has managed to assert herself here and thrive.

He snatches up the handle between long fingers, lifts it jauntily to toast her.]

To reunions, and to much needed drinks.

[And he pulls the stopper free, knocks back several deep and needy mouthfuls.]

[She tips her drink to him in turn, and takes a long, long pull of it herself.]

The first few days are always weird as anything, from what I remember; orientation and a bunch of explanation and the weird technology...

[He nods, finally setting the bottle back down as he lets out a breath that sounds as though it has been held for an age. It's how he feels, anyway-- as though he's been holding his breath since the moment of arrival, tense and balanced on a knife's edge. A modicum of that tension seems to drain out of him now, however, as the rum burns a warm path along his throat, acts to quiet something in him.]

That's better. And yes...it's all been quite overwhelming. I feel like I could sleep for a week.

[This coming from the man who rarely sleeps, it attests to his mental exhaustion.]

...well, I haven't heard very good things about the beds down there. Hold on a second.

[She rummages through the drawers before coming up with a pouch of metal tokens, painted gold and with a four-pointed star cut into the center.]

Here, take these; the Vesuvian has Submissive-only baths. There's comfy couches and chairs to nap in, and food that will keep for a while and fill you up if you sneak it out. ...just in case.

[He takes another long pull of rum whilst she rummages, looks up when she holds something out to him in the palm of his hand. He looks troubled though, vaguely. Shakes his head.]

You don't need to do that, Pasha. Really, I'll be all right.

[Because its a difficult thing to accept help when he's accustomed to playing the opposite roll, even if on some level he already knows he's being ridiculous. That, cut off from all means of supporting himself, he could likely use all the help he can get.]

I do.

[She speaks up very firmly.]

This is... alright, secret time. This isn't just big brother privilege or familial charity or... whatever has you in knots. Leo's helping me get the books straight, but you... you might have noticed it's pretty hard for any Submissive to get much respect or any resources of worth, around here. ...or, you will soon. Asra and... the previous Ilya, they used these 'promotional' packages themselves, but they also spread them around.

[She prods him, hard.]

I want to make sure you're able to get a good meal and a nice hot bath, sure, but I also want to pay forward the kindness that a certain pair of orphaned urchins received back in the day. And now you won't have any excuse not to come visit me, either.

[And he has noticed, hasn't been here long but has already begun to understand the extent of his position here, that he's been rendered entirely dependent on the good will (or perhaps something worse than that) than those who have been arbitrarily placed above him, and whilst he isn't exactly upset by it, he can see how it could come to pose a problem.

And her points are all logical and well-made, she won't be out of pocket from helping him out, and it isn't all about him either (which helps to soften his resolve a little - the clever girl knows what to say to wear away at the usual difficulties he has in accepting assistance, it seems.).

The hard prod draws a bright yelp from him and he makes a show of rubbing at his ribs, but in the next moment he sighs. Accepts defeat.]

Well, all right. If you're quite certain it won't inconvenience you, or cause any other sorts of problems.

I mean, it's, uh, kind of legally gray, but I'm still doing it whether you join in or not.

[Those heartwarming Nevivon values.]

So, come; spread the tokens around, and get more while you're there. Take back as much food as you can, and share that too.

[Well when it's put like that he winds up flashing her a devious grin, because he always has considered himself morally bankrupt and has never been one to play by the rules. It'd be hypocritical to chide her for it...not that the fear of hypocrisy has ever held him back from a great many other things.

But she is his sister, after all.

Besides, with the opportunity to give more to others than he keeps for himself, how could he possibly resist?]

Say no more, then. I'll be sure to spread it around, make sure no other poor confused submissives have to go entirely without.

[A tried and true tactic: give him a whole cake and he'll take a small slice for your kindness, while passing the rest around to everyone else. As long as he partakes at all, it's at least something. A foot in the door, so to speak.

He gives so much of himself, her Ilyushka. Somebody has to make sure to fill him back up from time to time.]

Thank you. Asrochka does it for me too, but the more the better. Some of them... they look so rough, Ilya.

[And he has her for that thankfully, and she's here, and perhaps he's not the best at accepting help, but at least the help is there should things become too much for him.

Unlike some of the others here, it sounds like. His expression turns grave, suddenly-- that some are really suffering here, it's not something he's had time to consider yet.]

It's that bad down there, is it?

[There's a pause then, whilst he stares intently at the handle of rum, doesn't lift his gaze even as he asks it--]

And...Asrochka...is he...?

[But he lets the question die before its fully formed.]

Asra, yeah. He—we've... we've gotten pretty close. Being the only remnants of home, it... it makes sense, right?

[She laughs, a bit bashful at what she's about to admit.]

Though, uh... well, with the previous 'you' here, I'll leave the details up to Asra to explain, but you two, ah... well, there was a miscommunication, at a certain point, and I... meddled a bit. You were both happy with the results, though! I straightened some things out for him, gave some advice...

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