TDM #1

[duplicitymods]

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « OUT OF CLUTTER FIND SIMPLICITY

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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.

» » » LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

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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

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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

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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

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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. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of January to June, their designation will be Dominant. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of July to December, their designation will be Submissive. For characters with an unknown birthday, their designation will be Dominant. Arrival into Duplicity has not been used as a prompt as it is a rather large part of introducing the game and will be saved for the first in-game log. But feel free to thread it on the TDM. Also, any locations throughout Duplicity are available for TDM prompts as well! Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!!

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» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Comments

Cullen Rutherford | Dragon Age | Dominant

[morework]

►LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

The city's architecture is impressive. Almost enough to distract from the rest of the scenario, but only just. Orlais' architecture was impressive. The depravity of its upper class as well. Cullen is beginning to suspect some unwritten rule about their correlation. Whatever is wrong with simple wood and stone, and keeping your private life firmly locked behind both?

He turns away from the windows, to one of the many unfamiliar faces nearby. Most of them arrived at the same time, and yet--

"Did I see you at orientation before?"

And yet he hopes that the answer will be no. That a longtime resident can give him information the official welcome committee would not.

►END IN THE DISCORD

The club is not what he expected. Not what he hoped for, truthfully. A rebellion against their entire being here would be preferable. A way to leave long before his year is done. Or to make it more bearable, but so far he has his doubts about that. At least this could be a start.

Cullen takes a mouthful of his drink. The device on his table buzzes. With luck he will find like-minded contempt, and be out of here before long. And without?

He will need to think about that when the time comes.

The device buzzes again. Cullen accepts the match with barely a passing glance, and waits to be approached.

►TABLE IT FOR LATER

If he chooses to accept his duty to this city, then he needs to blend in better than he has. And if he chooses strategic defiance, then he needs the information even more. The meeting sounded promising, but after a while Cullen is no longer quite so sure. He watches from a distance, silently, and thinks that a certain horned mercenary would be of much greater help than - Cullen frowns - this.

"How is covering somebody in dinnerwear supposed to help?" he mutters quietly to himself.

►WILDCARD

Anything goes! All prompts OTA, always happy to match format.

End In The Discord

[child_of_bhaal]

"Excuse me?"

The voice comes from beside him. The girl has hair the color of freshly spilt blood, that falls in long wild curls. She's looks at him with a mixture of mild hope and caution. She's not here for recreation, either, and something about his stance and attitude gave her hope that maybe she'd found someone like minded.

"Are you..." She has to look back down at the device in her hand. "Cullen?"

[morework]

Cullen turns to her voice, and stands to greet her.

"The same. You must be-- my lucky draw."

Cullen clears his throat. He nearly tried to reach for her name in return, but the device still sits on the table behind them still. He never even looked at it long enough to remember.

(He looks at her, now, gaze drawn to her hair, before it inevitably wanders below, already searching for the mark on her neck. Or the lack thereof.)

"Sit with me. If you would."

[child_of_bhaal]

"Syeira," she offers with a wide, friendly smile. "Don't worry, people tend to get it wrong the first time they read it."

If she's guessed he didn't bother to look or remember, well she'll never show it. Offering the benefit of the doubt is part of who she is.

"Thank you," she says to his offer, and does indeed sit. There's no mark on her, so she's someone who got out of the fire, but landed in the frying pan. And if it's any comfort to him, she's not dressed to socialize like some of those, who came her for.... partners. She still wears her swords, and her light chain shirt, over her tunic, as well as a shimmering, iridescent cloak about her shoulders, most all of which are enchanted, if he's got an eye for it. The cloak and chain mail being the most obvious, as the former gives her an extra aura of appeal, and the latter actually glows a faint green.

"If it's all right to just ask, what are you here for?"

No sense in beating around the bush.

[morework]

More comfort than she can imagine. His own sword is still by his side as well, but with the Inquisition disbanded his need for armour was gone, or so he thought. Not that it could protect against any of this. He wears plain brown trousers instead, and a plain linen shirt to match. The Up would have offered him finer things, but so far he's refused.

Cullen leans back to find the words. A loaded question, considering he entered his name at the risk of drawing in people looking for much he has no inclination to give.

"A place with different customs," he ventures. "And anyone looking for the same."

Tabled

[queensgame]

There's something in the tall, blonde man in the back frowning silently at the demonstration that reminds Melisande of Phedre's Cassiline. It isn't the tall blonde part, of course; Joscelin is also both of those things, but he's also D'Angeline, and they have always been a different breed. No, it's something about the stubborn set of his jaw, the way he looks out of his depth and too stubborn to admit discomfort. It's truly irresistible, especially as she catches his muttered words.

The woman standing to his left is slightly taller than average, fine-boned with a fall of dark hair and blue eyes that sparkle faintly with amusemwnt as she glances over towards him. Her answering voice is low, so as not to interrupt, the perfect pitch to reach him, polite enough to remain within the bounds of what's acceptable.

"It's about discipline. To remain still enough to keep the wine in the glass, to keep the plate steady--for a moment, it's easy. It's nothing, and the weight is light as a feather. But as the submissive holds their position, the glass grows heavier. The plate becomes a weight. Their knees and hands feel the strain, and there's a tremble in the arms, the neck. Muscles still too long begin to burn and cry for release. And still they stay, because they must. Because their Master desires it, because what is asked must be given, and because they want to give it. It is about discipline, and trust." The words weave a picture all their own.

"Is it all that different from the drills of a soldier?"

[morework]

Cullen did not help himself to the refreshments. He regrets that when his mouth runs dry. She makes an absurd display sound far more appealing than it ought to be, he will give her that. Cullen clears his throat.

"It lacks practice in full armour?"

His lips draw a thin line, crooked wrily. He makes an effort to look at her, but his eyes wander back to the scene one more time. He's missing the armour, and still she asks. Is it that obvious?

"...It lacks a cause."

Sorry for the delay!

[queensgame]

There's always a certain something to a soldier, armor or no. At least, there is if you know how to look, and Melisande is very good at looking. The way he carries himself, the squaring of the shoulders--there are a thousand small tells every person has, and she's spent her lifetime learning them, for both business and pleasure.

Her own full lips curve in response to the small smile she's offered, watching him as he watches the matched pair up front. "There are different kinds of armor, but I'm sure you know that, already. And as for a cause..." Melisande moves a little closer, just behind his shoulder, not quite touching him as she indicates the scene with an elegant gesture of her hand.

"Look at her. Look at the expression on her face, the way her breath catches at every brush of her Mistress' hand. Look at the way she trembles and still does not spill the wine. There is cause there, and it is not fear, or ignorance, or desperation. Do you know what it is? It's love." She knows he's going to doubt the answer. Ones like him always do.

"Just watch, when she takes off the blindfold. You'll see."

Lies travel

[asinglemote]

Phedre feels nigh overwhelmed by everything they pass on the train, by the train itself - there are a thousand and one things to see, a hundred thousand to learn, everything about this world - and she can't stop looking around to take it all in. His question might have been lost on her, if she had been trained by a lesser man.

"Yes, my lord." Perhaps not a lord, but deference - despite the lack of a tattoo on her throat - is her natural response. He seems a soldier, at least, and it pains her a little how he makes her think of Joscelin. How alarmed he must be, to have found her vanished; she tries not to think about it.

"I'm sorry, you were hoping for another answer."

It's easy to apologize, and easy to tell; it's hard not to stare at the young man kneeling by his mistress's feet, and wondering if this is a world so different from the one she knows.

"But I'm afraid I know little more than you."

[morework]

He shakes his head quickly. "Cullen. No title."

None he cares to wield any longer, not the Ser and Knight-Captain of the Order, nor the Commander so named by an organisation now freshly disbanded. He was only just looking for a new path. This cannot be it.

Inevitably he follows where she looks, and feels the flush creep to his cheeks. Soldiers' barracks tell wilder stories than this by far, but at least they have the sense to keep them behind closed doors. Cullen looks back at her, searching for recognition. If he spotted her in return, then his arrival had him too preoccupied to remember.

"I was hoping for more answers than they've given us so far, but. Thank you, all the same." He studies her for just a moment. "Where do you hail from?"

Where do they take people from, really.

[asinglemote]

She sees him look from the corner of her eye, and watches the blood rise in his skin. Oh yes, she thinks, very much like her Casseline. Phedre does recognize him, though to be sure it's because she watches everyone without making it known. This is what she was trained for, after all, to watch, and to listen, to gather information and report it back to...

Well, that doesn't much matter here, not until they can find a way home.

"Terre d'Ange." There is no hiding the homesickness in her voice, so she doesn't try: Phedre may not have been here very long, but she's spent too much time, ushered far from her homeland. "And you, Cullen? Where do you call home?" He could easily come from a number of neighboring countries, but it's his accent she can't place. And this place is otherworldly: why not his home, too?

End in the discord

[ataashihunter]

The Iron Bull had spent most of the evening trying to figure out how the device works and when he finally does and gets the first name he almost laughs. Of course, it is someone he knows. He stands up from where he had been hiding at the bar and scans the room, spotting Cullen and grabbing another drink from the bar before he heads in his direction.

"Commander" At least some measure of respect for the guy. Even if he is a little envious when he sees that Cullen doesn't have the mark of a submissive.

[morework]

Above all Cullen ought to be impressed that someone of Bull's stature managed to hide anywhere in a crowd... but then again, the mercenary's talents are many.

Cullen turns towards the voice, and for a moment he dares not believe his eyes.

"Bull? Maker, I thought I might never see a familiar face again."

[ataashihunter]

Bull smiles a little and slides onto the couch next to Cullen. He spreads one arm around the back of the couch and raises the glass to his lips before he answers. "I am not sure that is a blessing or a curse, Curly."

There are scratches on his neck around the mark, and a bit of wariness to his posture that he is doing his very best to hide. He looks around the room and then back at Cullen. "I didn't expect you to be someone who would sign up to meet random people."

► end in the discord

[heartbreaking]

Cullen might be none too impressed with the club, but Durham is ecstatic. For the first time since arriving he feels free, free enough to not bother to hide the incriminating stripe that marks his throat. When his device buzzes, signalling their match, he leaps at the opportunity to talk openly, unreservedly, with someone else. Anyone.

This Cullen Rutherford fellow isn't even his first match of the night, not that Durham has done anything more than talk to his pairings. He fetches another glass of terribly modern alcohol from the bar (it dulls the horror of it all, somewhat) before approaching the man who seems to fit the description of his latest match.

"Rutherford, I presume?"

[morework]

The name almost passes Cullen by entirely. It does not find much use outside of Orlesian ballrooms. Just for that it draws a small flinch from him.

"--Ah. Cullen- will do." Maker, and he only swiped absent-mindedly, too. He gives his device a quick glance. "Durham then, yes?"

[heartbreaking]

Durham wouldn't need to be a spy to spot that flinch; even in the darkness of the bar he notices it. But, God, whatever it is he's done, Durham doesn't bother to take it personally. He takes it in his stride; considering their circumstances, flinching is nothing.

"Indeed." He performs a small bow, inclining his head at Cullen's question and following the other man's gaze to the device in his hand. Durham slides in to the seat beside him, nodding at the phone.

"Interesting machines, are they not? I must confess, I have no understanding of them." His expression turns pained. "Nor much else of this world, truthfully."

Lies

[worldinnovator]

Sinbad is seated across the aisle from him and while the first little bit of their journey had been absorbed in taking in the sights flashing by outside their vehicle - whatever this strange contraption was - he'd become more and more immersed in watching the other people around them on the train the longer they rode. Some were obviously locals and long-time residents, already looking at ease in the roles they filled within this strange city. But the others, who were as new as him, were just as easy to pick out by their discomfort, the way their eyes would dart to each new display of what seemed to be the societal norms of this place and then away again, as if it were still somehow taboo.

Sinbad was finding that as fascinating as the displays of Dominance and Submission themselves.

But when the blond man turned to him with that question, he merely offers him a friendly smile and inclines his head.

"You did, yes. I'm afraid if you were hoping for more information on your new surroundings, I only possess as much as you yourself do. It looks as if many of our fellow passengers are in the same state, although some are taking it better than others."

There was that one fellow towards the back that looked as if he might faint dead away at any moment.

[morework]

Unfortunate. On second glance Cullen even thinks he recognises the man. In passing, but still. A question wasted in the wrong direction- or was it? Cullen takes another look around the carriage. A couple disappears around the corner, clothes dragging behind already half undone. Some certainly are taking it...

Cullen looks away quickly.

"And yourself? You look like you are holding up all right. Any first impressions?"

end in the discord

[samahl]

Lavellan had stared at the name that had been messaged to him for a few good minutes. He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing Cullen Rutherford displayed for him so matter-of-factly.

There was no way he wasn't going, though. He'd hate to leave the Commander waiting without knowing if he had been rejected or not. This was bound to be a tad awkward though.

"Commander?" he asked as he approached. There was no mistaking that blond hair and handsome face.

He was aware by now that Cullen probably didn't know him. The message the Commander received would have given him the name 'Cyril Lavellan' and if he had known it he probably would have responded to it. At least his look was so unmistakably Dalish that he could always play off the use of the title as if he had just known about the Inquisition. It had been an important organization in Thedas, after all, and he'd yet to see any elves here that resembled the Dalish precisely.

[morework]

The longer the evening, the shorter the glances Cullen took at any potential matches. Neither name nor appearance were of any interest in his particular search, after all. By the time Cyril Lavellan flashed on his display he'd already taken to swiping in agreement without even a look.

He could explain it all, of course. Rather plainly and clearly, that no undue advances had been meant at all. Towards anyone, in fact, and certainly not towards the Inquisitor. That all he had hoped to find here was dissent against the city, through which he might find a way out of this entire arrangement. For a way out of it, to be very clear, rather than for somebody to indulge in it.

He could explain, right away, if only their leader's voice hadn't taken him by surprise entirely.

"Inquisitor! What. Are you doing here."

!! you just made me so happy! <3

[samahl]

Cyril blinked in brief surprise and then smiled in a self-assured sort of way. He wondered briefly if Cullen would be like Cassandra had been - from some time in the past and shocked at the site of him wearing a prosthetic for his left arm. "Well, I thought I was coming over here to meet my date, but apparently that's you."

He really cannot help but feel amused at this idea and letting that amusement show is better than indulging the worry he has at the idea of his companions and advisors in this place. Long ago, back in Haven, Cullen had caught onto all of his obvious flirting and had eventually let him down gently. It had been sweet, to see the man be so considerate of his feelings. After that, their relationship had turned platonic and supportive and he had left the flirting at the door.

Now though, he can't help but bring it back a little, if only to see just how flustered Cullen will get. "I have to say, Cullen, I didn't think you the type to put your name in for a night with a random stranger. You did only need to ask if your proclivities were beginning to tilt that way."

Lies Travel in Company

[shieldofrohan]

"I fear you did." Éowyn doesn't recognise the man who addresses her, but that means nothing: there were many people at the orientation. What matters is that she was there, and so whether or not he recognises her, that still answers the question she suspects he's actually asking. The question she would ask, in his place. Do you know what is going on with this place?

Sighing, she pulls back her long golden hair with both hands, and presses her lips together. "By the look in your eyes, I take it this place is strange to you, as well?"

Strange feels like an understatement. The glass and metal, the eerie silence of their passage, the sheer coldness and hardness of it all... it is so alien as to make her skin crawl, a place of sheer artifice.

[morework]

"Beyond strange. The architecture, its inventions, this- defies anything I would expect to find even beyond the mapped world."

He'd never spent much thought on the world beyond the seas, but one thought he holds quite clearly now: Not this. Even the Fade and its mysteries hold a different kind of strange...

Inevitably his gaze is drawn to the one kneeling in the compartment. Cullen frowns anew.

"Not to mention the customs here..."

[shieldofrohan]

"Customs?" She scoffs quietly, tossing her head. "A fine word for it. I would call them less customs and more perversions."

Not that she thinks, from his frown, that he disagrees with her, but frustration has been building in her since first they arrived, and it has to be spoken somehow. She never has been one for subtlety, or hiding her emotions.

Sighing, she purses her lips and looks back at him. "Such wonders might be found beyond the Sea, but I do not think they would be so cold and hard and lifeless there. There is no joy or soul to this place."