inaugural tdm of unspecified duration.

[vestigemods]

VESTIGE TEST DRIVE MEME

WHAT IS THIS?

This is a test drive meme for Vestige is a musebox-game successor to The Box (yeah, the one that died like five years ago). It's invite-only with no activity check and almost no application to speak of.

This is a horror jamjar based on Cabin In The Woods, in which characters are pulled into this containment zone run by the Technicians working from a lab underground with the goal of creating Good Quality Suffering™️ to appease the elder gods who hover on the verge of creating a worldwide apocalypse. But of course, suffering is pointless if everyone is too numb to properly suffer, so there are plenty of morale boosts provided in between bouts of fear and misery.

This TDM is ongoing and will fill the gap between now and when I get around to setting up the comms. There is no official start date and currently literally nothing but this TDM available for perusal, but I'll update this section of the blurb as that changes. Threads in this TDM are welcome to be game canon once this shit opens because fuck it. If you have questions, feel free to ask in the top-level below or just wing it tbh, we'll be doing a lot of winging it up in this shit.

Characters arrive with all powers intact and carrying all items that they had with them on their canonpoint.

Also, feel free to hit up the Intro + Friending meme to network with your future peers in this suffering endeavor. (EDIT 5/20: We also now have a DISCORD SERVER! So hop on into that if you'd like.)

PROMPT 1 ► just your ordinary cabin in the woods

⬛ARRIVAL + GENERAL PROMPT

Whenever you're from or wherever you were, you awaken now with the mildest of headaches in a medium-sized wooden cabin. Maybe you wake in a bed, barely padded and covered in dust (so are you now, congrats!). Maybe you wake on the floor, arguably softer than the bed in spots thanks to some handy dandy water damage. Either way, you certainly aren't where you were before, and you have no recollection whatsoever of arriving.

The cabin is modest but multi-roomed and fully kitted with a kitchen and cozy living room. Nice, dry wood sits stacked by the fireplace, and if you check the various switches, the lights turn on with only the faintest protesting static. The cabinets are surprisingly well-stocked, as is the fridge, with perishables and non-perishables alike. As if someone has been here recently... but how, when everything else seems so thoroughly abandoned?

Should you choose to ignore the cabin's supposed hospitality and try to leave, you'll find that both the front and back doors are securely locked, in a way that no amount of fumbling with the locking mechanism seems to remedy.

That's when a sloooooow creak draws your attention to a door nearby, one you may not have noticed before... but it's open now. Was it before? Better yet, should you check out what lies beyond?

PROMPT 2 ► who's up for some fighty-fight, kids??

⬛MONSTER HORROR.

The basement is musty and dim, though a pull-string at the curve of the creaky stairs seems to turn on a sparse row of lightbulbs dangling precariously from the ceiling along the center of the room. This little bit of light illuminates a room absolutely packed with items, furniture and boxes and various knick-knacks of unknown and questionable origin. Spiderwebs litter nooks and crannies, many with actual spiders still nesting inside, and a layer of dust coats most every surface in sight.

It doesn't seem like there's anyone down here, nor is there any sign of an exit at the basement's far end. There is, however, something that catches your eye. An item, one that your feet seem to carry you toward without your mind quite telling them to do so. Perhaps it's familiar somehow. Perhaps it's so foreign to you that you can't help but get a closer look. One way or another, you somehow end up reaching out to touch it. But what harm can that do, a single touch?

Oh, sweet summer child. Haven't you seen this movie?




---




Whatever else your characters might touch, to activate this prompt they'll also touch one of the following five items:


• A child's drawing, of what appears to be... shit, what even is that? Is it a bat? Is it some kind of... reptile? We just don't know. (result! warnings for gore/violence.)
  
  
• A light-blue paper face mask, the sort used in hospitals for patients who have a cold. Maybe you guys should've brought masks too. It sure would keep all this dust the hell out of your nose... ( result! warning for body horror! )
  
  
• A buzzsaw blade, dusty but intact. ( result! warnings for gore/violence. )
  
  
• A music box, covered in faded yellow flowers. I wonder what music it plays? ( result! warnings for gore/violence and Alarming Children. )
  
  
• A funeral urn. But... It seems that someone glued it shut around the edges? I guess that's one way to make sure nobody spills grandma. ( result! )

These enemies can and will follow characters outside, should they try to flee. It might actually be a good idea to face these foes outdoors where it's less confined, provided they don't stray too far from the cabin (see prompt #4).

The blurbs are just guidelines, feel free to scale up or down how strong/weak the monsters are, how many there are, etc. in order to better fit your characters' level of capability. The Technicians know your characters' strengths and weaknesses, so they'd know how to send enough to make this challenging but not insurmountable.

PROMPT 3 ► congratulations, you fucked up

⬛SURVIVAL HORROR.

Perhaps you didn't touch anything in the basement. Hell, maybe you didn't even set foot through that ominous basement door. But hey, we get it. Not everyone likes to party. You're not getting off easy, but at least you can say that you didn't fall into the trap.

If, by the time an hour has passed since the creaking open of the basement door, no object has been touched and no baddie has been summoned, you'll find your nose assaulted by the prevailing smell of smoke. One glance out any window tells you why: The cabin has been surrounded in it, an oblong ring of fire six feet thick burning tight along the exterior cabin walls. You're safe inside for the moment, but how long will that last?

Now, you have no choice but to try to escape the blaze. It overtakes the cabin quickly, creeping up over the rooftop, shattering windows and burning a path inside. No matter which way you try to run, you're almost certain to get burned... But that's certainly better than burning to death in here.

PROMPT 4 ► "escape"? never heard of her.

⬛PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR.

For some, staying in this creepy cabin with its stupid locked door was never an option. Maybe you break one of the windows and crawl through that, or maybe you're angry and OP and punched a man-sized hole in the wall itself. Hey, we're not judging. You got yourself outside, and that's what counts.

The outside of the cabin is... actually pretty nice. Picturesque woods, birds singing, perhaps a couple of deer bounding through the trees not far off. This place might actually be relaxing, if it weren't so alarming and kidnap-y. But it is, so it's time to get the fuck out of Dodge.

Or to try to, anyway. Just a few short meters into the trees, you find yourself entering a deep and all-encompassing fog. You can barely see your hand out in front of your face, let alone your path through the forest ahead. If you're not alone in this venture, you'd best keep a hand on your companion lest you lose track of them, as well. And is it just you, or is there a slight chemical taste to the fog that you're breathing in?

(Yes. The answer is definitely yes.)

Before long, you find yourself turned around, stepping back out of the fog with the cabin in front of you. Little do you realize that simply turning you around is the most merciful fate that this fog has to offer.

---

This is easier to break down without narrative, so!

• The first time your character ventures into the fog, they're just turned around and sent back to the cabin.
  
  
• The second time, they hallucinate things that they don't want to hear. Something they fear, something that hurts them, something that stresses them the fuck out. Maybe a character's worst fear is wildcats and they hear one growling just out of sight in the mist. Maybe instead they hear a loved one crying for help back in the direction from which they've come, drawing them back to the cabin. Or maybe they hear the voice of someone they admire berating their cowardice or stupidity or something, for running away from the cabin in the first place. The goal is to psych them out and send them running back to the place where the action is happening.
  
  
• The third time, it's the same but full-blown visual or even physical hallucinations. Basically anything that might lure, scare, emotionally wound, etc. them into going back to the vicinity of the cabin.

Characters are welcome to start off venturing into the mist together, or to discover one another while they're already in the mist. If it's the latter, look out - it may be harder to tell friend from foe when you can't quite trust your own mind.

THE LOOP ► a note on replayability

Regardless of which prompt your character faces, they'll be left unbothered after the creature is defeated or the problem is overcome until sunrise the following morning. Though the fog still keeps characters from straying from the area, they're welcome to recover and lick their wounds in the immediate cabin vicinity. An unburnt cabin leaves them food and resting facilities, while a burnt cabin... Well, at least the fire never spread from that self-contained ring, so they have some nice unburnt grass to sleep on.

Come sunrise, all characters still awake will fall unconscious. At this point, many of them will reawaken in a perfectly undamaged cabin back in Prompt #1 to begin the loop anew. They may have the same comrades in this loop, or perhaps they have different ones. Maybe their new companions have done this before as well. Maybe they're brand new and have no idea what they're up against. R.I.P., you poor unsuspecting fucks.

This is, in effect, a series of trial runs by the current batch of Technicians to see if they're able to run this containment zone scenario long-term. When Vestige opens properly, characters will awaken free of the loop and will have quite a bit more continuity and recovery time between horrors. The 'loop' mechanic is specifically in place to give this TDM some shelf life and let y'all entertain yourselves while I work on the actual pages and such, rather than the one-and-done feeling of the usual TDM.

CODE BY TESSISAMESS (patreon)

Comments

Reynir Árnason | (CRAU) SSSS

[draumstafir]

i. sweet dreams are made of this

[ it's been awhile since reynir had a dream like this, one where the empty expanse of the dreamscape in front of him was a clue for him to start paying attention, as if the creeping crawling sensation up the base of his spine wasn't enough, of the way his fylgja nudges him unerringly on one direction across the scape with the steady, gentle press of its body against his knees.

they come across a dusty old cabin soon enough, and though the doors and windows are sealed he manages to let himself and his fylgja in easily enough. there's another door inside, and it's cast in shadows before his eyes and he feels sick the closer he gets to it. reynir needs to see what's inside though, so he wraps his hands up in the thick, comforting fur of his fylgja and pushes on.

inside there are items, artifacts, that very nearly seem to drop with malice, and he's pretty certain that's where the choking sensation is coming from and this has to be enough information, right? enough warning? he can wake up now, or at the very least leave this room and this cabin and travel some less ominous straight of dreamscape for a bit until his heart and stomach manage to settle.

but his fylgja pushes him further forward still, lifts and points its heard squarely at reynir and intones deeply: choose.

somewhat quaveringly reynir reaches one hand out to brush bare fingertips over a thin blue paper mask. the moment he does, his body is shot through with excruciating agony, and he awakes with a scream bolt upright in a bed that he most certainly did not go to sleep in the night before.

gunnar, his orange fluffy norwegian forest cat grumbles softly from his perch on reynir's lap, and reynir cards his fingers gently through the thick fur as he tries to catch his breath and evaluate what he'd just seen. ]

I wish the warnings didn't have to come so miserably sometimes, Herra Gunnar.

[ the cat, unsurprisingly, doesn't answer. ]

ii. (don't) choose

[ waking up in the dusty old cabin after his dream is bad enough, but when the basement door goes and opens up on its own reynir makes a very real effort to put himself as far away from the open door as he can in the confined space and still feels ill about the whole thing.

his companion doesn't appear to have the same qualms about the space, and is actually a few steps down the basement stairs already before reynir can make himself speak up. ]

You shouldn't! [ he shouts in a panic, before he manages to wrangle some sort of control over his vocal chords and speaks more normally, though there's still a discernable quaver to his voice. ] ... go down there. There's nothing good down there.

[hydraulics]

[ Had he known, going into this, that Ian was gonna practically suck his brains out through his dick, Mace would’ve asked for his hands to be tied the fuck down. There’s no way he can keep them steady like this, nails involuntarily digging into Ian’s shoulder, his other hand clenching in his own damn hair as he moans Ian’s name, loud and trembling.

All he knows is the wet mouth around him, the way it’s reducing his entire world to nothing but good, and if Ian pulls back right now, Mace thinks he might actually die. But Ian keeps going, doesn’t stop, and the pleasure between Mace's legs goes white-hot right before it crashes over him like a wave, his voice going slurred and broken. ]

F-fuck, you’re gonna make me — Ian, please—!

[ And Mace comes so hard his vision blurs, his cock pulsing into that silken, molten heat, twitching all over and curling in on himself with the force of his orgasm. It’s so good he loses time for a while, sinking into it, his ears filled with a sudden white noise. As if from a distance, he can hear someone make shocked, hurt little sounds; realizes dimly that they’re coming from his own throat.

Realizes that his eyes are squeezed shut, lashes trembling; that both his hands are on Ian now, the fingers curled loosely in those dark, soft strands as the aftershocks go through him. He swallows, feeling overwhelmed and so, so good. ]

Jesus Christ, gorgeous.

[ Rough and unsteady, his breath hitching afterward. It’s as if his orgasm’s knocked the bravado right out of him, left him aching and soft in a way he’s never felt before. ]

[legbreakings]

None of this makes sense and he's not even sure if what he says matters at all - excuses, clearly, the nonsensical babble of a man with nonsensical actions. If his mind had truly been restored as Wei Wuxian claimed, he wouldn't have murdered Jin Zixuan.

But there is still a part of him which has been craving answers ever since his life spiraled even more out of control than ever before and so he can't help but let him speak when he knows he should just take Sandu and finish it once and for all.

"What are you talking about?" he demands and no, he can't even stand to hold on to him, he releases him in disgust and steps back, clutching his sword tightly. "He isn't back and I have never heard the name Mo Xuanyu!" He laughs harshly, shaking his head. "Excuses won't save you now!"

[legbreakings]

I don't know either. [ He shakes his head, sending his hair flying every which way in his outrage at everything. ] None of this here makes sense! We've been taken. We are locked up. Being played with.

[ But none of that explains why or by whom or anything else. Nothing here makes sense.

So for now, he chooses to focus on the things he might be able to find answers for. ]

Did you even think to bring your sword? I'm not protecting you!

[porndealer]

[Listen here, SIR HE DOESN'T KNOW. He doesn't know you and he's going to take everything with a healthy dose of 'unsure' and 'hopefully this guy doesn't murder me'. It's nothing personal.]

Wha-

[Wait so it's not magic, but then it is magic? Now Klaus is pointing something at him and he'll look at it with a frown. With a flick he snaps his fan closed and uses it to gently move the... uh. Whatever it is, so it's not pointing at him.]

You're the worst at explaining anything. None of that helped at all.

[porndealer]

[He doesn't know you're trying your best not to laugh at him, but if he did he'd appreciate it. Then again laughing and teasing with Wuxian had always felt good, not like someone just thinking down of him. Granted Huaisang used that view of himself to get out of things, but he'd always liked how Wuxian and him could tease and joke around with each other and it just felt. Right.

Call him a sentimental loser, that's fine.]

Wei-xiong, always so brave... I wish I could be so sure like you.

[Sighed with a little pout as he tries not to make a mess while eating this lovely new juicy treat. His fingers are getting sticky now and don't mind him just having to suck them into his mouth to try and clean them. Around anyone else he'd never dare, but it's Wuxian, he won't care.]

Mm, wouldn't do to look around on an empty stomach. I agree.

[wittingly]

[ They can talk about wrist restraints next time, provided there is a next time. All the same, don't think for a second he minds having crescent moon fingernail marks in his shoulders or down his back; of all the things marring his body, those are the ones he'd actually enjoy bearing.

You're gonna make me-

He loves, he loves the way Mace says his name. He flicks his eyes up as he works to watch all of this unfold, the best fucking show, the sweetest sight he's had in days. Swallows around him as best he can, working through the tide, trying not to make a mess despite the fact that he already did back on his own turn.

He likes fingertips in his hair. He likes those soft little sounds that fall out of Mace's throat. He likes the sound of Mace's voice after, shaky and new like something only recently reborn.

(And part of him is unsettled by how soft it sounds, but he's trying not to let that in right now.)

He peels off, wiping his mouth with the pad of his thumb and the side of his index finger. Self-satisfied, a little smug, a little sore in the stomach. The tiniest bit hard again, but with no potential to go anywhere.

He uses a hand on Mace's thigh for leverage to stand, and to delicately steer himself back onto the bed. ]

That was for saving my life. Thanks for that.

[ He says brightly, throat a little wrecked, tone humorous. ]

[porndealer]

[Maybe he shouldn't feel relieved... Jiang Cheng is laying everything out and dread is quick to replace any relief he'd felt.

And then he's being berated for not having his sword! Here he'd been wishing his brother was here and Jiang Cheng was doing a real good impression of him. Except Nie Mingjue wouldn't not protect him. Rude. Terrible. He would like to return this bad big brother impersonator.]

You-! How could I know this would happen? Jiang-xiong you can't blame me for not having my sword at a time like this...

[hedoniste]

( gwenaëlle's shrug is elegant, which does not particularly detract from the fact that as a response to those questions it is not winning any prizes. )

Be my guest if you want to find out.

( she taps ash into the grass next to her, and it isn't entirely that it doesn't occur to her to put her cigarette out so much as it seems sort of pointless in the face of a burning building belching out whatever the fuck is getting torched inside of it. on the whole, she decides, she is minimally adding to the smoke output in their immediate vicinity and since it's making her feel better, she's going to keep doing it. on the off-chance anyone is actually moved to try and see if anyone's still trapped inside, cigarette smoke inhalation will be the least of their problems.

she is not so moved. it isn't that she withholds an answer on whether or not anyone's in there but that she doesn't know; it had already been burning when she circled back to it, and if she's heard screaming—

well, the fog seems to do that. it's tricky. )

[viscountbuttercup]

[ well it's certainly a very excitable answer to his question, but an answer nonetheless. the setting hadn't seemed right for a harem anyway, and the countess hardly the sort, but it never hurt to check in his experience, just in case.

jaskier's still a bit concerned what might have happened to the countess of course, but figures she's quite capable of taking care of herself under most circumstances, so he might as well work around to figuring out what has happened to him in the interim while he slept.

and who says he can't socialize while he does so? ]

A cultivator, you say? [ jaskier says with coy interest, his smile taking on a whole new shape and meaning as he studies his companion in more detail and decides to maybe place figuring out where he is second in priority behind socializing, at least for a bit. ]

What a delightfully provocative little title. What do cultivators do, precisely, if you don't mind me asking?

[ he doesn't step any closer to jiang cheng just yet, but there's a definite lean to him in the man's direction and a whole lot of eye contact with those earnest, big blue eyes of his. ]

[hydraulics]

[ It's a mark of how absolutely drained Mace is that Ian's already halfway onto the bed before his eyes flutter open, only just noticing the absence of sleek black hair between his fingers, the firm hand around his thigh. He fumbles with his jeans, pulling them up as he turns around with almost less coordination than Ian just had, taking in his expression intently — pleased, sated, and a flicker of an emotion that Mace can’t really place.

At that wisecrack, his mouth does something strange, not quite a smile, but closer to that than anything else.

Maybe it’s better if he takes the same route. Says something along similar lines, like I bet you say that to all the EMTs. Safer to just enjoy the quiet aftermath of what they’d shared, take satisfaction of his own in the throaty way Ian’s speaking, and then let the moment pass by them.

But he doesn’t want to. That’s not his way. From the moment he’d asked Ian if he wanted him — that unspoken yes he’d received had opened a door inside him that’s not gonna close until Mace decides to turn the key again. And like the rest of him, it’ll need something concrete first. Until then, it’s letting all the light and warmth in.

He shifts forward silently, gaze dropping meaningfully to Ian’s lips before raising back to his eyes, telegraphing his movements as he leans in with his voice still hoarse, still soft, but with something deep and steady underneath. You know what they say about still waters. ]

You missed a spot.

[ And this time when he kisses Ian, it’s with both hands cupping his face and gently holding him in place, not against a headboard or as a prelude to something more, but pulling him close to Mace instead, just to feel the heat of his body near his own. Unhurried and searching like they’ve got all the time in the fucking world, lapping the taste of himself out of that sweet mouth like he’s trying to say something.

In a way, he is. ]

[wittingly]

[ A joke would've been the easier path for Ian to follow. Dismiss the intimacy with humor, reel it back, step into the role they'd been in before they descended into this whole experience. It'd have been far easier than the way Mace leans in, cups his face like something precious. Kisses him without heat but rather with feeling, and outside of the realm of sex Ian can't easily ignore the way his heart responds.

He becomes passive. Pliant. Closes his eyes this time not to get lost but rather to detach.

Let it go.

He peels away slowly, gently, untangling with the ease and care of someone who knows how not to hurt someone's feelings as they end a moment.

He's got a good enough excuse lined up - a nod at the place where their small can of fire's still burning beneath a hot steel dish, balanced on a board that's deceptive in its sturdiness considering it's subject to spill at the wrong move of an inner-spring mattress. ]

It's a wonder we didn't burn the place down.

[viscountbuttercup]

Doomed souls, oh what a delightfully artful little turn of phrase, do you mind if I write that down?

[ whether you mind or not, eliot, jaskier is whipping out a small leather bound journal and jotting it down regardless, a bard's work is never done, after all. the rest of eliot's question can wait until he's done and tucking the journal away again, however, at which point he starts paying a bit more attention to eliot himself, and a very flattering sort of attention it is at that. ]

Oh no, you're the first person I've laid eyes upon out here, though you certainly are a sight for sore eyes at that.

[ he can't pretend to recognize the crown or the person wearing it, but jaskier is well prepared for any level of high society he might have just stumbled his way into in this moment and sketches out a pretty little bow of introduction. ]

I am Jaskier the bard, and might I inquire as to the identity of the charming company I find myself with now?

cw: r i p dragon-bat

[deferences]

[normally, he wouldn't have either, but for that split second, he thought it might've gone toward his eyes. worry not though, sizhui won't make the same mistake again, particularly once wen ning begins forcing the monster backward.

with true precision, the lan disciple moves in, uses the newly offered space to maneuver around ning, angle his sword the proper way. it's more of a stab than a slice this time, though after it punctures, he twists his wrist, angles upward and tears through further.

he doesn't flinch either, just applies continuous pressure until the blade glides smoothly into its forearm— then he cuts through that, too.]

cw: deffo some blood and gore here in this monster's case, too

[deferences]

[they're in it together, then. sizhui's lips press tightly, worriedly, because he knows he can't guarantee her safety but he's sure going to try. despite her slightness, naminé does offer some semblance of stability against the door, and it works better coupled with his own. both of them are rather lean, so it's a wonder they've managed keeping the beast at bay for as long as they have.

not a human is easy enough to figure out but,] A heartless? [he's never heard of such a thing.

lan clan rules state he should protect others when they're in danger, which is exactly what he's doing, regardless of her being wary. so long as she doesn't attack him (and he's ninety-nine percent certain she won't), they'll have a tentative alliance going for however long they need to get through their unfortunate situation at the moment. much to his dismay, it's not getting any better with them just standing there, waiting for the creature outside to come barreling through the door.

his own gaze downturns to the knob as well, eyes widening further, something akin to actual fright overtaking his features. that's cursed, how is it able to hold the handle, let alone turn it? an equally terrified look meets his own and something seizes his chest, something shouting ‘protect’ over and over again.]

Unless we try and open that window?

[he casts the nearby window a brief glance, considers their options, turns back just in time to see the door start breaking. without second-guessing it, sizhui pushes off the door, takes a few measured steps back to draw his sword then he jams it straight through the wood, applies ample pressure— and knows he's hit his mark when there's an anguished screech. one hand clenching the handle, his other motions toward the pane,] Go now! [since they've got the briefest moment while it squirms in an attempt to escape, but he holds as long as possible before withdrawing the weapon, preparing for another attack in case it rams the door after she's (hopefully) gone.]

[hydraulics]

[ The disentangling is done deftly enough on Ian’s part that Mace doesn’t notice it as anything but the moment coming to its natural end, and there’s a clarity in his eyes when they open again, no more the unsteadiness of a few minutes ago. The exhaustion’s going too, and there’s a new strength in his limbs in its place, as though he’d just had a full meal.

Feels like he could do everything they’d done up until now all over again, and he’s not talking about the sex. ]

God, don’t jinx it.

[ And there’s the humour again, as Mace gets up to put out the small flame and bring the soup over to Ian, balanced on the makeshift board-tray of the drawer panel.

He'd technically had a meal the day before with the sandwich, but it's Ian who’s been on nothing but some soup and half a clementine for the last two days now. He must be goddamn starving, and with that in mind, Mace goes hunting for something else from their stash to easily pair with the soup.

Returns a minute later with some whole wheat crackers and, more importantly, a sealed bag of dried fruits. Protein, in lieu of some kind of meat. He tears open the seal and puts it all to the side with a pointed little look, brushing Ian's hair absently back from his forehead. ]

Finish your vegetables, I’m gonna go run us a shower. [ Together, of course. But the us implies it. ]

[wittingly]

[ He'd put in what he thought was enough for two people, thought it was obvious they were meant to share. He'd enforce that, too, except... It's the hand reaching out to softly brush his hair back away from his forehead. It's run us a shower. It's those things combined, and the tone Mace says with it, and the implication.

He freezes. Plain and simple, he's too frozen to try and push it. Too frozen even to say listen, I don't, but another part of his mind digs its heels in.

They're stuck here together. They're here together, and they might fucking die tonight. Even if he doesn't do this for himself (even if he can pretend no part of him wants it), who the fuck is he to do that to the guy who saved his life? Who the fuck does he think he is, taking away this one good in all the bad?

So his chin ducks, and he shovels food into his mouth instead of shoveling his foot into it.

He's starving.

(For food and for intimacy.)

Besides that, a shower sounds fucking fantastic after two days of sweating and bleeding and screwing around in the dust.

The quantity he puts down between the time Mace leaves and the time Ian joins him is almost astounding, frankly. Full, warm, post-coital, stepping into the shower is like the final nail in the coffin for how fucking tired he'll be after. ]

it's definitely better groomed than some shit tbf

[deferences]

[whenever the time comes (if they're just ultimately accepting it at this point), hopefully sizhui won't let everything slip because he'd feel so bad being the one that'd have to tell. like, should it come down to him, he will do so, but he'll hate it the whole time.]

No, unfortunately, I don't.

[huaisang can rest easy knowing he isn't the only one who's dazed and confused by all this. although, sizhui has to admit, he's glad to have someone recognizable around despite them not being familiar with who he is.

his gaze fleetingly averts toward the stairs, back to huaisang then toward the music box after he sets it down. against his better judgment again, he regards the item with a curious head-tilt, thoughtfully wrinkles his nose then reaches his free hand to drift his fingertips across its top. it doesn't feel possessed, but they're in some unknown world, so who knows?]

Did you... touch anything else in the room? [while he's not certain it would matter, it's something else to consider once he's withdrawn. there's so much clutter down here, he'd be more surprised if he didn't, even on accident.]

[deferences]

Having Jiang Cheng stop is good, having him do so and turn around with his sword raised isn't something Sizhui had expected, though. His immediate reaction is to dig his heels into the ground so it helps stop him, surprise – and maybe possibly fear? – coming across his face while he stiffens his posture, clenches his fingers around his sword—

But ever-so-slightly relaxes once he realizes the Jiang leader's only defending himself. He's not sure what he would've done if it'd been the other way around (or rather he does, but he's unsure how he'd feel about raising his own weapon in return).

Another person who doesn't know him? Gosh, there sure are a lot here, and it makes him wonder if they've lost their memories or if it's something else entirely.

First, Sizhui lifts his arms, brings them around in front of himself and bows, hands clasping around his sword's scabbard. Then he lowers them again, straightens and lifts his gaze with the faintest smile. “A Lan clan disciple who's seen you in passing. My apologies, I shouldn't have done that, but perhaps I can make it up to you by helping find whoever you're looking for?” Someone who's (technically) dead, but it's fine, he ain't gonna tell.

[hydraulics]

[ Ian's not wrong; it had been obvious they were meant to share it. But Mace had figured it would sound ridiculous if he'd tried to explain that one kiss — not the sex, not even the charged moment before it, but a single meeting of mouths — had been enough to refresh him. Or — not ridiculous, maybe, but it would've been too much.

He'll have a few bites before they turn in, he’s not too fussed. If he gets another kiss before they sleep, he won’t need that either.

Much like the rest of the cabin, the interior of the bathroom is heavy with dust, including the shower area. Stepping inside, Mace wrinkles his nose and promptly sets about washing everything he can with a military precision. Luckily, it’s an old-fashioned bathroom, with a center drain in the tile below rather than something modern and harder to clean.

Admittedly, he wouldn’t have bothered if it was just him, or if Ian was almost anyone else. But the thought of somebody he’d held, somebody he'd kissed, somebody he’d slept with, bathing in filth is frankly unacceptable to Mace. So by the time Ian enters the bathroom it’s gleaming, with a billowing cloud of steam welcoming him in and Mace at the shower, naked and placing various bottles along the side ledge.

His hair is already soaked and plastered to his face, and when he glances over his shoulder at Ian, he has to wipe it out of his eyes. Knows how he looks — like a wet shaggy dog, maybe, and there’s a bit of a grin on his face as he speaks. ]

Careful not to slip. The door off to the side goes to the laundry — we've got some pretty thoughtful hosts.

[ A pause, and then idly, holding out a hand for Ian: ] Y'know, for murderers.

[wittingly]

[ He'd worry their hosts were going to burst in on them during this, but frankly if they were in the business of interrupting during something vulnerable he can't imagine a better time than when he had his mouth wrapped around Mace's dick. If he were a murderer with a sense of humor, that's when he'd have done it.

He's been in this bathroom. He remembers what it looked like then, and comparing it now... it's obvious Mace took the time to scrub while Ian was eating. Can't say if he's amused or impressed or flattered, maybe some combination of all three of them.

He glances at the door to the laundry, skirts it and instead begins the process of peeling off his clothes and settling them in the sink. Whether it's a laundry chute (no way in fuck he's going downstairs) or a laundry room (probably a head in the drier, right?) there's no way he's trusting it right now.

Shower first, worry about clothes second.

And then they're both naked, and Ian takes the offered hand. Not like he needs the help, not that he- it's the gesture, and it's cinching something in him painfully, and fuck, god fucking damn it why here and now of all places? All this time being so fucking careful and he can't get himself under control in the place they're most likely going to die?

Stupid.

Another thing worth noting, maybe is that Mace looks good as fuck wet and naked. It's kind of a contrast to Ian and his unsightly fucking burn taking up the center point of his chest. The eye-catcher, the first thing and maybe the only thing anyone would look at if they saw him undressed.

It's gonna be there forever, in some form or fashion. No more wearing only swim trunks to the beach.

He steps under the spray to wet his hair and water goes cascading down his wound. He hisses softly, but there's really nothing for it. No way to block off that much of his body in the shower. It's not gonna hurt it, if anything doing a pass with some soap might not be a bad idea.

Apparently he hasn't noticed the bottles yet. Can't blame him, given what else he has to look at. ]

Was there actually - you know, stuff in here? Shampoo?

[ Or are they strictly burning off the gross with hot water? ]

three, doubling up because fuck it

[mannerless]

( the fog is an illusion - this, wei wuxian has long since realized. realized and done his best to ignore, but it's a bit easier said than done. some stubborn part of him still clinging to the concept that literally any part of this has to be rational, to the notion that there has to be a way out of this fog if he just keeps on going until he reaches the other side, but three times now he has entered the forest and three times now it has spat him back out in front of the cabin. this is, however, the first time the cabin has been on fire.

he watches the blaze a moment, brows knitting. but it was empty when he left, he called out for people and everything, so who cares if it burns down now? he turns decisively to head back into the woods -

and that's when he hears the cry.

it stops him so sharply in his tracks that he nearly trips, but then he's barreling back toward the cabin, calling - ) Shijie!? Shijie!

( it's only on the very cusp of the flames that he stops, huffing out a desperately anxious breath as he glances left, then right - fire in both directions, all the way around the cabin by the looks of it. and with no further time wasted, he backs a few steps away from the fire. ) Shijie, stay back from the window! ( because that's when wei wuxian bloodies his finger and sets off a wind talisman that very very briefly parts the flames. it's enough for him to duck his head and plunge through, leaping shoulder-first through the window and rolling across the floor.

he scrambles to his feet, eyes darting almost frantically until they land on jiang yanli, but then his expression shifts to something more calm, more in-control and reassuring. and though it has been - gods, months since he has seen her, there's no time for any sort of reunion. instead, he rushes over to her side to take hold of her wrist, his other hand falling on her cheek. ) Hey, hey - we're getting out of here, alright? ( but how?! eyes scan the room with well-disguised urgency, then he's tugging yanli over toward the front door. there's as much fire on the other side of that as anywhere else, but at least this way he doesn't have to pull his shijie out a broken window.

turning back to her, eyes imploring, he asks, ) If I ask you to run, can you do it? ( he doesn't wait for an answer just yet. ) I can clear a path through the fire, but not for long. I need you to make it through to the other side before I follow you. Can you do that? ( the smoke is almost unbearable in his lungs at this point, and only his stubborn determination to seem unfazed and in-control of the situation keeps him from coughing horribly. he'll save that for once he's gotten them out. )

[skittering]

Could be. ( his brow knits a little, whether in further thought or in speculation over whatever it is that he's reaching deeper into the cupboard to grab. it seems to be some sort of cookies, which he's satisfied enough with that he turns around to sit crosslegged on the countertip with them in tow. )

Maybe it tried to send us home. ( he eyes the first cookie from the package, giving it a little sniff, then it disappears into his mouth in a single shameless bite. )

[skittering]

( cursed... mirage. right. that's... almost definitely not what this is. it's too real, too vivid. but what this actually is doesn't particularly matter to lalli. he's more concerned with practical matters like 'why does it feel off but not infected-off?' and 'what lies in the woods outside and is it safe?'

apparently the door is locked. that's new information, but not terribly relevant to lalli since he tends to use windows in strange places regardless. but, with a pat-pat on emil's shoulder, he dutifully makes his way over to examine the door. don't mind him trying to... unlock the actual lock, no offense intended to emil, but of course that doesn't work. which is unfortunate, because that's not the sort of magic he has, locking and unlocking, moving things without touching them. he can adjust the weather, call and banish spirits, make shields when need-be.

he settles back off the balls of his feet with a sigh. his gaze lifts back to the nearest window now, then off to emil. ) Out the window?

i'm just gonna handwave this nonsense because i want them to reunite

[skittering]

( there are no lack of battle sounds to hear, at least on the part of the creature. angry screeching, pained screeching. it would be quite a bit less lopsided, were lalli the type to cry out the same way, but he endures his side of the battle silently and stubbornly, trying to bait it carefully and get small but critical jabs in while he can with what little he has at his disposal (a knife, mainly).

eventually, a pained screech turns almost frustrated as the creature wheels around and disappears off somewhere to nurse its wounds, and lalli does indeed come for namine as promised. he walks with wary steps, vaguely favoring one leg, bleeding from various cuts and scrapes along his arms and occasionally his torso. none of them are too serious. he was careful.


a few yards into the fog, he quietly calls - ) Namine. ( it's not a question - if anything, it's more like the start of a sentence he doesn't plan to finish. 'namine, you can come out,' perhaps. )