• Mature • A Star is (Re)Born

[Zunylanih]

23rd of Cylus 721

Zunylanih had come over on the flutterbus. Rharne had not been kind to them, not in any way shape or form. It had beaten them halfway to death into the gutter, pulled out their pocket change, stole their donkey and puppet set, and then spat on them for good measure. It was an unkind place, full of wine-sops and hardened brawlers. He did not enjoy it at all. There was a city there, yes, but none of the deadly civility of Quacia, where transgressions were paid for in blood. No In Rharne they might as well have encouraged fighting. In fact, they did!

Well enough thinking of that. As they lay in their partition of the flutterbus, Zunylanih shifted and changed into their most precious form. The carbon copy he'd made of Geneva, their most beloved icon. They took care of dressing her, in the new clothes that they'd bought. With an intimate awareness of her measurements and parameters, the clothes fit just fine. Almost as well as if they'd been tailored to her body, and not merely related to the seamstress. She looked into the mirror and saw how beautiful Safira really was. Instantly, a pang of jealousy arose from them. Would Ekohdene try to make a move on their precious Safira? Would Ekoh present as a man, and try to romance poor helpless Safira?

Ekohdene had sent word, via Uleuda, to Zuny that they would be joining them in Desnind. Zuny had gotten to know Ekohdene fairly well in his traversal into Uleuda. He knew that Ekohdene kept two forms, one of a biqaj female, and another a male human, middle-aged. Safira pulled the collar of her tunic snug around her neck, trying to cover what modesty she could, yet the way the garment was designed was far too flattering to allow for such modesty. Safira threw on a mantle of fox-fur, over her shoulders, and used that to cover that portion of her neckline. Satisfied with her reflection, she went about preparing, as the call had gone out to all passengers that they would be arriving in Desnind soon.

The Southern Continent. Safira knew it well, and Zuny themselves knew it well. They'd even travelled to Desnind in the distant past, in order to perform there on occasion, and on tour with Omesintihlih. Lost in the remembrances of the past, Safira barely noticed that the Flutterbus had stopped completely, and they'd landed.

It was still dark out, the dark of Cylus. She wrapped her hands in hide gloves, and pulled on her knee boots. This done, she deemed herself prepared to set off from the conveyance.

Safira idly wondered, as she descended from Moseke's landing, if Ekohdene had already arrived. Well, no time like now to start asking around. The only problem? She didn't know a lick of Xanthean, and barely enough common.

[Zunylanih]

And then, within a few bits, she entered Desnind proper.

The wonder of wonders, lights filled the air. Fireflies flitted about on the air like little moving stars. It was absolutely beautiful. Safira walked into their midst, holding her laden arms out to her sides, dancing, spinning like a dervish through them all. She lifted a few brows in her turns, but she was able to ignore their judgmental glances. She was enjoying the moment too much, even despite the cold, which made her shiver down to her illusory bones. Yet still, she turned and turned and turned, around and around. It didn't dawn on her the one thing that stood out about all of these lights. Perhaps it was their earlier excursions to Desnind that informed her confusion, but she hadn't realized they weren't multicolored. In fact, they were all, most of them, red.

Red. The color of desire, of fury, the blood that coursed through mortal beings (well most of them) and informed transformation. The color of the curtains as they drew to a close on the players of the world. It was her color, if ever a color could belong to one Immortal alone. It was a sign!

"It... It's... It's a sign!" She cried, ecstatic into the dark Cylus skies. As people threw their Iyo out their doors, she danced and danced and twirled as she moved through the villages at the bottom floor of the city. She danced, and she raved. "She's back then! It was all an act! All a lie! She's back, she's back. Syroa LIVES!!" Zunylanih never had a more tenuous notion, one that was totally unsupported by any real evidence. But perhaps then they'd gone mad. Yet they were certain. This must be a message to the world. To HIM, her only way to speak it to him, as she wished to lay low?! Was that the purpose of the sublime act of faking her death?!

"Syroa LIIIIIVES!" She screamed into the night sky. She cackled all the way to the best-known Inn within Desnind.

She danced and twirled, and nearly tripped a few times over her own legs. Yet however, she stumbled or tripped, she managed to get back on her feet. Nothing would get her down now, now that she knew her lady, her precious goddess of masks lived! She would venerate her and thank her to the end of the night for this sign. She would make this a night for Syroa, honoring each of her domains in turn. From Transformation to unrequited lust, to the act, and the fury. All corners of Syroa would be honored tonight. No part of her glorious aspect would be ignored. For all the infinite forms, Syroa would be uplifted!

[Zunylanih]

She nearly stumbled her way, dizzy, into the Karshe Inn’s common room after procuring a place to stay for the next few nights. There, she found many eyes upon her. Safira straightened the cloth of her dress, and walked on in, tugging at the foxfur around her shoulders, and laying it on a nearby coat-hook. She smiled at many of the tavern goers, who briefly regarded her with curiosity, and then turned away.

She reached the bar without too much stumbling and wondered if the barkeep would think her too dizzy and drunk all ready to enjoy their brews. But fortunately for her, the barwoman had no such compunction against serving people that were already drunk. Safira flashed her a smile, and laid a few silvers down on the bar. Then she slid into a stool and waited for the woman to retrieve one of their famous honeyed brews.

Their precious eyes lingered on hers as she laid the mug down, and then they met. Safira stuck her pink tongue out languidly, sampling the taste of the honey brew, and moaned suggestively as she drank it down. The drink gave her a great amount of energy, energy she supposed she’d be needing tonight, given the look on her new ‘friend’. She smiled once more at her, and ever to the point, spoke ”Got a room. Wanna fuck?”

They walked into a partition, cordoned off by a sheer curtain. As they walked in, Safira was pleased to note that she had an audience, in the manner of a few men and women who’d come to watch the performance of Safira and the barwoman.

Feeding off their lust, unrequited desire for her, they began undressing. Safira kissed the bar woman, dragging her off toward the straw mattress waiting for them.



Safira emerged from the space they’d shared with a new lease on life. Rejuvenated by the desire she’d stoked in both the watchers and the object of her ministrations, she walked back into the common room. The barwoman, slightly confused and turned around by her release of so much tension and also the strangely bewitching foreigner she’d enjoyed, got up after her, and dressed quickly back into her furs and hide clothing.

Safira felt the new harvested lifeforce that she’d siphoned from their desire for her. Even as she walked into the barroom, she felt it with every eye that fell on her. Nevertheless, she sat by the stool again. There’d be an awkward moment, where the barwoman arrived, but she didn’t show yet.

In the corner of Safira’s eye, she spotted a man. Unmistakable signs of fury on his face. He was a Lotharro, short for his kind, but no less stout and muscled. He walked right up to Safira, and pounded his fist against the bar, startling them.

Safira turned to him, and flashed him her most winning smile, turning her body to face him. With her pinky sticking playfully into her mouth, she purred, ”Got a room, wanna fuck?”

The result wasn’t what they’d been expecting. He stammered in broken common, ”You fucked my wife, I’m hurt you.”

So saying, he threw his fist into her stomach, driving it deeply enough to knock the wind out of Safira. She crumbled to the ground, laughing despite herself, though no sound issued from her lips. She grabbed a mug that’d been lying about the floor. As he lowered himself, to gloat over her body, she turned to face him, fury in her eyes as a stray wrathling caught upon the mug. It’d be easy to sucker punch him with it, and she did, cracking it, and making him bleed as she punched his ugly mug.

What followed, was one of the worst, most furious brawls in the recent history of the Karshe Inn.

[Bumblebee]

Enjoy!

Skill Knowledge
Demon's Kiss: Has a stronger effect when you have an audience.
Seduction: Not everyone, in fact, 'wants to fuck'.
Seduction: Don't seduce spouses, unless you're keen on a beating.
Seduction: Catch their eye, with your own eyes.
Seduction: Little gestures here or there to pique their interest.
Seduction: The direct approach

Non-Skill
Desnind: City in the Trees
Location: Karshe Inn

Experience: 10

Loot: N/A

Renown: 10

Consequences: This thread will effect the calendar for next season. OooooOooo.

Notes: I don't know if you played the NPCs or your skill level here properly, I'll be honest. Nae'ila, the owner at the Inn is described as drawn towards family and extremely social. Her husband, Duarne, is also the cook AND bouncer, but he didn't really make an appearance here. Now, I don't mind faceless NPCs (so I'm guessing that's what these were), but there were none that fit your descriptions in the NPC list as workers for the Inn, so it gave me momentarily pause as I tried to figure out who they were. As far as I was aware, the Inn was just a family owned and operated establishment, and I know someone big on family likely won't just up and publicly fuck a stranger because they fake moaned in a cup and made eye contact. Even if the bartender was a stranger on the street, I don't know if I see that happening without SOME sort of build up/introduction/conversation. It's the Karshe Inn, after all, not a sex club (although, that... is an interesting idea... we could have one pop up...). I think you could have added a bit more depth to the interaction. Sesser gives a curiosity and interest in what the person would be like in bed, it doesn't take away their morals or personality or wipe away every reluctance. It just seemed like a big jump for someone who has novice seduction at the time of writing this thread to inspire a stranger to participate in instant exhibitionism, that's I'll I'm saying.

Nevertheless, I always enjoy Zuny's antics and the way you write them is quite unique. That Lotharro is about to kick some ass and take some names. Be careful!