F01 - Blackbook, Grand Opening Pt. II

[Vanta 0]

It had been hard to miss. A deliberate line of bumps and indentations in his skull. Why? Was it wise for her to ask? Would he mind? She wasn't sure. "Oh, I almost forgot."

He turned parting from her temporarily, bending down to reach for their discarded masks. Their appearance glitched; the masks shattered, disappearing. Vantas soft smile fell, it was a sour reminder of their reality. A reminder of her goal. They were still trapped in this prison, and the game had its own ways of reminding them they couldn't truly live. She crossed her arms loosely in protest, disguising the gesture as an attempt to warm herself from the cold. 

Hirru sighed and returned to her side. "Nevermind, I guess we can grab new ones, if need be." He held out his arm, she took it. They walked back to the entrance, the same man from before intercepting their path. 

"Welcome back! I see your masks may have been lost. Do not worry. There are more than enough for a spare, but do be good and keep these safe. It is your choice to not wear them, but it is still our rule to have it.”

He handed them each a black mask, and retreated to the side. Hirru turned, facing her, "Do you want to follow the rules, or do our own thing? You look incredible either way.” she smiled, taking a step closer. Her eyes fell on his mask, she reached up taking it, tying the ends into a neat bow around a loop in his slacks. She did the same with her own mask, tying it at her hip. 

"Just in case we find ourselves needing them, they won't be far, but let's do our own thing." She looked up at him once more, regripping his arm. She took a deep breath as he moved to open the door. They were entering once again, a club filled with music, smoke, liquor, food, and many hungry individuals.

 "Hirru, what happened to your head?" Her words were soft, hesitant, gentle, not meant to be invasive; but genuinely curious with a tinge of concern. She had weighed her options, the worst that could happen would be his evening being completely ruined by the question, him getting angry and leaving her, and her feeling absolutely awful for overstepping.

She didn't think it would really come about, but there was no way to know unless she asked. Worry, curiosity, they weren't bad things. In fact it was usually worse to the keep curiosity bottled within. Knowing this, she took the chance, hoping that even if it was of a sensitive nature, he would understand her heart. 

Edited November 8 by Vanta

[Oscar 0]

Dammed, damned emotions.

The mystery began to unravel. Still ignorant of her story, but the miasma began to clear. He now possessed the what and the why, but not the how. His curiosity could wait. Attention enraptured - enthralled - by the weeping woman held in his arms. Perhaps it had been a mistake, he thought. Charm had been wielded irresponsibly, temptation beckoning without forethought. Objectively, it had been. The goal was never to make someone cry. Only to feel. And the ironic tragedy was that by feeling, he had demolished that dam that walled off her emotion. The waters burst forth, sweeping and drowning. It was no small wonder she was in such a state.

But there was no going back now. All he could do was ride the deluge with her. With any luck, he might be able to ferry her to dry land.

“Irony is -” Oscar said, gingerly grasping her by the wrist. He brought her hand to his face, his lips gracing each digit with the softest of feathered kisses. “Feeling should never be denied.”

Repression was the silent killer. How can one understand what it means to feel if they deny their emotions? How could such a thing be considered holy? Oscar knew too well the evils repression propagated. How people lost themselves without an outlet. How the tension and the pressure and the hate transformed someone into something entirely inhuman. He wore the scars from such decisions. A boy, swallowing it all, made a decision in haste and in hate. Three bullets - each one the nearest of misses. All because he was forced to stifle and deny the very essence of himself.

“Who says you have to stop?”

The words of a fool. He should be trying to let her down slowly. Shepherd her to dry land, allow her the freedom to learn herself. Oscar did not want that responsibility. And yet - what was meant to be a tryst for the evening seemed to be developing into something more. As he gazed into her eyes, all of the words and all of the phrases that he would have used - should have used - in such a situation left him. He shouldn’t get himself involved anymore than he already had. But the mystery was too alluring. Her voice was too sweet. Her eyes too deep. Oscar was drowning. So close to the sun, praying his wax wings did not fail him. Everything told him to dive low, back to the cool ocean breeze. At least to collect himself. But she just had to speak again.

Kiss me.

And he obliged, with zero hesitation. He lunged forward, taking her face between both hands. The Magician’s Pleasure - The Blackbook’s Authority - carried them away from the party. Whisked through space. Muted sounds graced their ears, more felt than heard. Bass thumped beneath them as he pressed her into that downy mattress. Lights low, door closed - a private room. The decor - the walls and the furniture - a haze. Focus narrowed, fixation bringing shadows to his periphery. He bore down upon her, hand sinking into the downy surface as his body engulfed her frame.

Hips met, lips touched. Passion unleashed. Heat building. She burned him. Seared herself onto his skin - onto his lips. He should go. Flee. Hide. Leave her to struggle through her fall.

But he didn’t. He was too cruel to do so. It would have been a mercy. 

Here, now, mercy was the thing that Oscar lacked.

His fingers tangled in her hair, his kisses wild and sinful. His lips graced her jaw, her neck, down to her collarbone. Eyes fixed, unflinching, almost unblinking. His pulse quickened - breath heavy and hot against her skin. They were on a collision course for something beautiful - future complications. Future emotions. Future connection. This would not end at sunrise. He would, full of selfish desire, draw her into his world. The blood and death, war unending. Would it bother her, when she was confronted by it? Would she hate him for making her feel? For all the things he wanted to do to her? All while knowing full well the depths of his own monstrosity?

“Tell me what to do,” Oscar invited, his words muffled against her skin. He took the liberty to leave his mark, a ring of fangs sinking into her flesh.

He didn’t care anymore. Sense and logic had died at the hands of want.

@Winnie

[Adelyte 0]

 

   ♦Lv4 Adelyte

Spoiler Adelyte | HP 80/20 | EN 26/26 | DMG 7 Lv. 4 | T. 1 equipped 2H Warhmmer DMG|DMG -- -- battle-ready inventory 3x Potion (+50 Hp) skills HAMMER | Rank 2 buffs Pretty buff ᕙ(•̀‸•́‶)ᕗ

 

chaos ||
noun : a state of utter confusion or disorder ||

Ever since she was a little girl, Genevieve always invited chaos into her home. Wherever she could be found running around the chateau giggling, it usually meant that someone, somewhere was a victim to her antics. Pranks, usually, harmless ones were her forte. Putting googly eyes on all of the statues and hanging art in the main hall, replacing some of the bottles of vodka behind the bar with water. Once she locked one of her mama's high paying clients in the bathroom.. she got in trouble for that one. Her intent was to never cause any harm or hurt anyone, it was just her form of entrainment that she wanted to share with the world. Usually, though, those on the other receiving end of her pranks just ended up irritated or pissed off. Really, though, it was for her. 

Where kids create imaginary friends to fill the void created by loneliness, Genevieve had chaos. And it had a rather large void to fill. 

There wasn't much of a plan, really. The party she had paid to take her  joined up with to go questing decided that raiding some new nightclub on their opening night seemed like a better idea. Something about eating the rich.. she didn't catch the whole conversation, she was too busy being told to fetch drinks for the rest of them. They messaged some friends of theirs, the group grew larger, and then they decided to strike. All of them dressed the part, dashing two-toned suits, tight fitting cocktail dresses. Just something that didn't stand out too much, help them blend into the crowd. Adelyte, on the other hand, decided to don a more traditional Japanese inspired look; a white and red kimono with gold embellishments and a black bodysuit underneath. 

They slunk into the club in waves, claiming masks at the front door and taking to the crowd. They had decided since someone in the group decided to dress a bit more.. flashy.. that she would be the anchor of the group. Once they saw her walk in, they knew they could get the real party started. 

"Hmmmm.." Adelyte stood there, looking down at the two masks presented to her. "You don't have anything with color do you? Maybe blue? Or pink?" 

Nope, just white or black. She decided on the white. 

It would be easier to paint once she got inside. 

The moment she pushed through the foyer and into the main room, all hell broke loose. Innocent people were tossed to the ground, glass bottles smashed over their heads, furniture overturned. She watched as a martini glass arced over the dance floor, before shattering and leaving a smattering of tiny glass shards on a velvet carpet. Gasps and screams of frightened partygoers, being promised a safe evening of drinks and dancing. 

This wasn't the chaos she welcomed. These were just terrible acts at the cost of others. 

But there was nothing she could do about it. If she tried to intervene, she would just get dragged down with the rest of the group when the owner finally decided to put his foot down.. Let alone anyone here who wasn't about to put up with this kind of bullshit. This was a mistake, she knew that group seemed shady the from the moment they put a price on helping Adelyte with some simple quests. Before she had a chance to leave, a elbow to her chest from someone rushing by knocked her off of her feet. Familiar, from the few moments she had to look at them. Someone she entered with, maybe? Perhaps she wasn't the only one with a change of heart. 

Commotion at the bar caught her attention, and she would turn onto hip to look in that direction. A fight had broken out at the bar.. or, to put it better, the party crashers were facing the consequences of their actions. 
"Wait.. is that..?" Adelyte asked herself as she looked at the toned back and shoulders of a familiar, tan skinned woman bashing one of the men she had paid's head against the bar. Even more bodies tossed into the air, landing close to the exit, as a massive stud of a man made easy work of some of the raiders. She'd probably have heart eyes right now if this were some anime. 

Okay, maybe coming here wasn't a total mistake.. at least now that she was here, she could just enjoy the party. 

Edited November 8 by Adelyte

[Veil 0]

 

The same story, different soul.

Veil had received the invitation, he smirked. It was certain there would be refreshments, food, perhaps even some fun. It didn't take him long to be ready, every movement he made was deliberate, calculated, smooth. He had a ball to attend to, an offer he simply couldn't refuse. He had been denied the pleasure of voluntarily attending much of anything in his youth, so he found an extra wisp of pleasure in knowing that he could decide what the evening would be. 

He arrived on the scene, a man who looked to be a guard approached him, offering a choice; Sainted or Sinful. He met the mans eyes, calculating his options. He certainly wasn't a blatant sinner, but he was far from a saint. He took the black mask, tying it in place. 

The music within shifted- only subtly- but enough. The kind of shift one only noticed if they listened rather than heard. A brush of strings, a deeper thrum of the base. A shadow at the doorway that didn't try to draw attention, yet every perceptive instinct of his surroundings turned towards it anyway.

Veil stepped inside. 

Tall enough to eclipse the soft red light that shone behind him. His mask was black lacquer, matte, expressionless. No feathers, no flourish- only sharp simplicity, it suited him. His presence wasn't loud. It just commanded without trying. 

He waited to join the festivities, enjoying the offered and readily available refreshments. He simply observed. Eyes hooded, a hand tucked loosely into his left pocket. His posture made it clear; he wasn't here to be impressed, he was here to see. 

Eventually he spoke- not loud, but with a resonance that carried,

"So this is the Blackbook."

No judgment. No praise. Just acknowledgement. 

The crowd shifted, not because anyone parted for him, but because Veil simply moved through the space like he had always known it, as though he belonged. 

He noticed her. 

He didn't stare, that would have been too obvious, too eager, he wasn't a man that was caught wanting without cause. She was beautiful, confident. The white mask, her purple skin. A careful distance disguised as freedom. 

She moved as though the music had been made for her. Radiant. Untouchable. Unapologetically living. He took his time approaching her, stepping into her orbit, just close enough for her awareness to brush against his. His height made him a shadow even in the glow of the dance floor. The black mask revealed nothing but the slight tilt of his head as he observed her movement. He waited, patiently, quietly. Every group of dancers, every pair, every shifting step on the floor had a pattern- a tide. Most people simply rode the wave. Veil read it. He watched the subtle break in her spin, the fraction of a pause when the music inhaled before the downbeat. 

That was where he entered. 

One step. A half-turn. A lift of his hand meeting her own. Not claiming, simply falling into place naturally. His other hand found the small of her back- not possessive, just steady- guiding the continuation of her spin into a smooth arc that brought her effortlessly towards him. The contact was minimal, but the poise and control was unmistakable. It felt less like being led and more like dancing with someone who knew the language of her movement without needing to ask. His voice came out evenly, deep, gentle. 

"You wear the mask as though you are someone who is used to being looked at."

No flirtation. Just truth, offered soft and sharp all at the same time.

"Seen but not recognized." a pause, not uncomfortable, just intentional.

"Veil." 

he turned her again, spinning her with ease and practiced rhythm. He didn't demand her identity, he simply offered his own. He understood the meaning of the masks. He didn't care about remaining anonymous, it was a ploy, one that he easily rebelled against. He leaned in slightly, catching her eyes,

"You are beautiful, and you dance wonderfully." He complimented. 

 

@CosmiQueen

 

Veil | HP: 20/20 | EN 20/20 | EVA 0 | ACC 0 

Spoiler

Name: Veil

True Tier: 1 

Level: 1

HP: 20/20

EN: 20/20

 

Stats-

Damage: 1

Mitigation: 0

Accuracy: 0

Evasion: 0

Recovery: 0

Bleed: 0

Battle Healing: 0

 

Inventory- 

(3) Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP)

2,000 Col

(25) Material

 

Edited November 8 by Veil

[Warren 0]

Warren, originally, had zero intent on joining Oscar’s soiree. Helping Abellio pick out his clothes was about as far as he’d wanted to go. He didn’t have anyone to go with anyway. And if he showed up stag to Oscar’s party, the man would never let Warren hear the end of it. It wasn’t as if Warren were setting out to be single, but he just didn’t see the point. Love on the razor’s edge, between people worlds apart with no way to rekindle the flame once they returned home? It just didn’t seem appealing.

Why waste time on tragedy.

But the more he thought about it, he realized that the part would likely go off the rails with a quickness. Warren knew exactly what Oscar was about. All it would take was a pair of pretty eyes or a set of tits and his entire hosting shtick would fly out of the window. And, frankly, Warren had worked far too hard on the drinks for the evening to let Oscar’s skirt chasing fuck it up.

Which left him with the problem of his plus one.

Two names came to mind: Sin - who, no.

And Kyra.

Warren needed two drinks and to chain smoke three cigarettes before he had the guts to reach out to his stalking victim in the middle of the night.

To Kyra:
Hey I need a favor.

---

Such a stupid thing to send.

To Kyra:
There’s this thing tonight. I kinda have to go. But if I don’t show up with a plus one, I’ll never hear the end of it.

---

Why should she even give a damn?

To Kyra:
Think you could meet me at the Blackbook? You’re like… the only woman I know.

---

Warren set about getting himself dressed, remembering sometime in between pulling on his slacks and putting on his left shoe that he had left something unsaid.

To Kyra:
Please?

The vibe at the venue was off. Oscar was nowhere to be seen. The dance floor was chaotic. And was that… pixelated blood smeared over one of the walls? Fan-fucking-tastic. He’d absolutely been right. He saw some familiar faces, but didn’t pay them any mind. The vibe needed to be checked. Corrected. And he really didn’t want to be the one to do it. He could, of course. But in so doing, he would expose a closely-held secret.

But it was either that or watch the party fizzle out early.

Guess I gotta out myself.

He stepped up to the stage. The music quieted. He bore the same limited Authority Lysette and Sin and Abellio did. When he spoke, his voice would project.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m coming in a little late. Looks like we need to slow things down  a little,” Warren said. He tried his best to be alluring. To tantalize with the deep timbre of his voice. But this wasn’t something that came easy for him. Shit, if not for his real life profession, he’d probably be wrist deep in an anxiety attack right now. He gestured towards stage right. A stool was brought to him. He sat. A band member handed him a guitar.

“Bear with me,” Warren said. “It’s been a minute since I’ve done this.”

He plucked a few strings - it was just like riding a bicycle. He gestured to the band. In unison, they began to play. He didn’t have to be good, Warren rationalized. Just a distraction. Fix the mood.

SONG 6: She Knows It

Spoiler

"Name: Warren
True Tier: 4
Level: 33
Paragon Level: 0
HP: 720/720
EN: 104/104

Stats:
Damage: 21
Mitigation: 134
Accuracy: 3
Stealth Rating: -5
TAUNT
REGEN: 29

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<Queen's Guard>> T1 Perfect OHSS | ACC III
Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<Heavy Overcoat>> T3 Perfect Heavy Armor | MIT III
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - <<Nebula>> T1 Perfect Shield | Taunt, Regen II

Combat Mastery:
  - Combat Mastery: Damage R3

Combat Shift:
  - AOE Shift

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:
  - Energist
  - Fighting Spirit
  - Heavy Armor R5
  - Howl
  - Straight Sword R5

Extra Skills:
  - Block R5
  - Forgotten King's Authority

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:
  - Focused Howl
  - Iron Skin
  - Rampart

Mods:
  - Impetus

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:

Housing Buffs:
  - Extended Workshop: +2 Crafting EXP per crafting attempt and +1 crafting attempt per day
  - Mega Slime Farm: +10% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.

Guild Hall Buffs:
  - Trading Hall: Reduce LD needed for Salvage by 5 (10+ for Alchemist crystals, 6+ for everything else). +2 EXP per craft. Rank 9 crafters and Rank 4 merchants/performers receive +1 crafting/identification attempt per day. Rank 10 crafters and Rank 5 merchants/performers receive +2 crafting/identification attempts per day.

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:
"                                                                                                                            

 

[CosmiQueen 0]

wahoo - ph

[Winnie 0]

Each kiss he placed on her finger tips- those feather-soft, devastating presses of warmth- they unraveled her in ways she hadn't known were possible. The gentleness of it all almost hurt. His lips brushing her skin, the way he held her as though she were something breakable, but worth breaking through, the way he spoke like he could see every fracture she hid. He reassured her.... it was more than she could have asked for. More than she ever believed the world would give her. 

Oscar. 

A man whom had broken the dam, shattering the carefully built walls, destroying them second by second, cracking them open with nothing but presence.

She met his eyes, there was something strange there. His want she could feel, but this other hunger, this tinge of emotion, what was it? Had she broken something within him as well? Did she affect him the way he affected her?

She spoke, he obliged.

Without a second thought his lips crashed to hers in a kiss that felt both sweet and consuming, like fire dressed in silk. The air around them changed- a shift in gravity, a twist in space, a hand cradling her as she fell back upon soft, lush fabric. They had moved. 

Her body jolted, a small instinctive flinch at the sudden change. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him, clinging, pulling him closer. Grounding herself in the truth of him. In the reality of his weight, his warmth. She needed that anchor. 

Winnie felt the sharp sting of his teeth claiming her flesh; a bloom of heat racing though her as he branded her. For a second- just one- she didnt recognize herself. Her breath tore in and out of her lungs, her fingers curling into the sheets, into him, into anything that would keep her anchored while her mind spun out. She whimpered softly. 

He wanted direction. He wanted her voice guiding him. The irony nearly made her giggle- this man of indulgence and instinct asking the divine for permission. 

But she wasn't the divine here.

Not in this room.

Not under his hands. 

Her voice came out uneven, trembling from the violent thrill of need and uncertainty flowing within her. 

"I don't know..... what to tell you to do," she whispered, her fingers brushing his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw as though memorizing him. "I don't know how to be anything right now. Not divine. Not holy. Not whatever they made me into to."

She swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath his lips. She trembled as he moved, each kiss drawing a reaction she couldn't hide. "All I know is... this feels real. You feel real Oscar. And I- I want that. Even if I don't understand it." 

She shuddered as his lips moved, her body arching instinctively before she clamped down on the sound rising in her throat. Shame flared. Desire tangled with it, hot and confused. There was a part of her that couldn't stand how he broke through her discipline. Other parts that quivered even more fiercely towards the parts of her that welcomed it so freely. 

"Every time you touch me," her breath hitched, his lips trailing her collarbone, "It's like you're peeling something off of me I didn't know I was allowed to lose."

She pressed a hand to his chest-over his heart, feeling the ragged rhythm beneath layers of fabric. "Part of me is frightened at this newness. I know I wasn't created to feel like this. Want like this." 

Her hands curled in his shirt pulling him even closer. 

"But dont stop." 

It wasn't a command, nor a plea. It was something fragile and trembling- permission wrapped in vulnerability. Her eyes lifted to his, luminous and breaking, but fiercely alive. 

"If I shatter," she said softly, voice quivering slightly, "Let it be here. With you. Not alone."

Her breath wavered, a soft broken exhale. She rose just enough to brush soft, fluttering kisses along his jaw. She moved to his ear, voice falling into a sweet whisper shaped from every burning thing inside her.

"Do whatever you want..... just dont leave me in the dark again."

Edited 15 hours ago by Winnie

[Lancaster 1]

The magnetic pull of V had his heart lit in a blaze so grand that it threatened to dwarf the evening, and with it overshadow others within its proximity. Flash burning all that were caught within its purview. "A girl as nice as you..." He beckoned with a twist of his hand, curling his fingers around hers just that much tighter allowing her to feel the lines on his toughened skin. The very same that had been pressed into foolish foreheads and cooked dumber minds like a slab of meat to a red hot pan. V swam around and Vincent could tell that her experience was lacking. The way she looked off into the crowd but feigned resilience, pretended confidence. Yet she'd dance around the pyre, offering it the chance to burn her alive. To slide ever so close to truest danger, to allow ones skin to get so close to the flame that it threatened to lap and char at that which it managed to grace. But in such a place, she'd find only a warm hearth and a level of comfort. Compassion through passion but something deeper, a turn of lusts toward fancy and hunger where an appetite set eyes upon a grand meal fit for two. But a smile past her shoulders, the guy was no chef but with a little rationing any portion could be for three.

"Surely bites harder then they let on. Is fine, I can handle a little pain. As long as it comes in a pair." The man whispers into her ear, pressed against every curve and contortion of her frame that folded into the spaces he had. Like dough to a pan, they'd meld and become but a single body. The fragrance from her hair gets caught on his nose, the scent of the alcohol she'd imbibed up to this dance the same. Not the most perceptive, but it worked like sugar in its sweet allure. A friend for his beloved to be sure, one that either of them could see themselves spending time with. In ways that might cause onlookers to become flush. Lancaster chuckles as some would start to notice just how deep they were willing to dive into one another on the dance floor, maybe it was because V was trying to ignore her own resistance and have fun. Or convince herself to by overlooking her own embarrassment. Speculation aside, Lancaster was right in his element and sways with practice more then confidence. Not that he wasn't confident, denoted by the cocky bombastic grin plastered on his face through most of it. V was a fine glass of wine being sipped slow to enjoy the texture.

A dance that lasts until the final seconds, and with a simple trade of hands Mari is thrust into open arms. The man catches her blankly, feeling her body move in an unintentional sway. A whisper into his wife's ear "Isn't she fun, quite a looker too." Vincent bites her lightly earlobe watching V make her retreat with the beat of an eyelash as playful as always. "Just like you, I approve Amari. Can use a decent friend. Now that we are both adequately drunk and riddled with jealously." He'd fold his arms across his beloved's chest pressing all that she was into him, trapping her like she'd him. "Is time to show why I am yours I'm afraid." A raise of his hand toward her cheek keeping that bind that holds her hips to his, it ignites bright orange and traces across her cheek gently threatening to burn her up causing a ring on her finger to glow bright red. A light pivot of his hips, he'd encourage her to do the same while working as her brace through troubled footing. To drop a magnificent match on the gasoline they'd both indubitably poured all over each other.

WC: 646

Vanity Tag: @Mari @Jevi

[Simmone 0]

Like a ravenous animal, Simmone traced her lips across Cascade's inch by inch. Stealing the warmth and replacing it with some of her own, taking a journey and it was made with many soft steps across that flawless peach tone. Each a slight taste of salt to the tongue, and taking a silent observation to the way her skin rose and became tender. A gift that kept on giving with every stroke and kiss across her smaller body, all the while Simmone's eyes glow purple. Abusing skills not meant for this, <<Searching>> and seeking every raise of her breath and <<Detecting>> every tick increase of her that beating in her chest. Simmone had taken the role of a succubus through and through, and Cascade was trapped in the web and was being pulled apart. An explicit focus on every pleasure, groan and pant. All music to the woman's ears as her assault although gentle was unending. "I am daring aren't I? But I don't think that is only my cross to bear~" A slight playful twist to the phrase into her ear as she runs her tongue up an exposed neck, before sliding into the place where those words fell. A sticky slide, Simmone would push her mind to dive deeper into the moment. "So adorable, you talk a big game. But the way you lean and how what you respond with keeps breaking to pieces. I could just, eat.... you.... up."

The woman caught stray glances away from their given stages, the beckoning call to the ether for something to show. A ghost in the dark that Cascade was hoping to see. Another? A fun game all the same, and as she buries her lips against Cascade's she'd aim to scoop out her heart. Savoring every moment until her rescuer would come take her away, offer her rapture and leave Simmone with a fond memory, a fond smell and an unforgettable taste of want.

Vanity: @Cascade

WC: 322

---

Active:
Guild Rank 5 | +5% Final EXP/Col Reward

---

Simmoné | HP: 1060/1060 | EN: 144/144 | DMG: 21 | MIT:20 | ACC:4 | AA  | EVA:1 | REC: 8 | LD:9 | PROSP:1 | QTY: 2

Spoiler

Name: Simmoné, The Black Cat
True Tier: 13
Level: 35
Paragon Level: 90
HP: 1060/1060
EN: 144/144

Stats:
Damage: 21
Mitigation: 20
Accuracy: 4
Evasion: 1
Loot Die: 9
AA
REC: 8
QTY: 2

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - Lady Luck's Hand - Atropos [Tierless/Demonic/Rapier] AA, ACC 3
Armor/Trinket: 
  - Eloquent Black Serpent - Oshun [T4/Demonic/Cloth] LD 2, REC 2
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - The Black Lotus - Jurojin [Tierless/Demonic/Trinket] QTY 2, LD 1, PROSP 1

Combat Mastery:
  - Combat Mastery: Damage R3

Combat Shift:
  - AOE Shift

Familiar Skill:
  - Profession Familiar

Custom Skill:
  - Double or Nothing

Skills:
  - Charge
  - Cloth Armor R5
  - Energist
  - Lock Picking R3
  - Rapier R5
  - Searching R5

Extra Skills:
  - First Aid R3
  - Concentration

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:
  - Dismantling
  - Focus
  - Hyperactive
  - Nimble
  - Precision

Mods:
  - Athletics
  - Energize

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:
  - Crystal of Divine Light | [232246a] x1
  - Flash of Rejuvenation [T1/Perfect/Crystal] Mass Heal [200851][200851-1][200851-2][200870][200871] x
  - Rhino’s Horn | [224901b] x5
  - Teleport Crystal x5
  - Vocal Augmentation - Resonation [Tierless/Perfect/Support/Instant] +15% HP [163578][163582][163583][163743][164301] x1

Housing Buffs:
  - Basic Kitchen: Increase the effectiveness of a single food item consumed in a thread by +1 T1 slot. This can exceed normal Cook enhancement caps. Ex: A perfect T2 MIT food gives 35 MIT instead of 30.
  - Storage Closet: +1 Battle Ready Inventory Slot
  - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.
  - Attic (Storage): +5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests
  - Basement: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll
  - Guest Room: Players can have one «Amenity» in a «Guest Room» and the «Amenity» cannot be recovered. Players are allowed to change which «Amenity» is in the «Guest Room». Multiple instances of the same «Amenity» do not stack. This buff affects the player and their choice of up to two party members.
  - Master Bedroom: -1 energy cost for the first three expenditures of each combat
  - Master Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 25% (rounded down)
  - Extended Workshop: +2 Crafting EXP per crafting attempt and +1 crafting attempt per day
  - Dining Hall: Turn 3 identical food items (same quality, tier, & enhancements) into a Feast. A Feast contains 6 portions of the food items sacrificed. Feasts created this way cannot be used outside of the thread they are created. Limit 1 item created per thread.
  - Mega Slime Farm: +10% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.

Guild Hall Buffs:
  - Trading Hall: Reduce LD needed for Salvage by 5 (10+ for Alchemist crystals, 6+ for everything else). +2 EXP per craft. Rank 9 crafters and Rank 4 merchants/performers receive +1 crafting/identification attempt per day. Rank 10 crafters and Rank 5 merchants/performers receive +2 crafting/identification attempts per day.
  - Treasury: +5% bonus col from last-hit monster kills and +10% bonus col from treasure chests.

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:
 - Appraising[20000exp] R5
Gathering Profession:

 

[Lysette 0]

#

[Oscar 0]

It was a cosmic trick.

A divine prank.

A joke delivered straight from the Fates’ fetid mouths.

That Oscar would be so vexed. Ordinarily a sinful chameleon - a skinwalker with a velvet touch. He could intuit and become whatever the person beneath him needed. Tailor himself to their tastes, their desires. It mattered little to him how he conducted himself - only that the one he danced with enjoyed themselves thoroughly. How he had made himself into a drug, bit-by-bit. How many lovers - men, women - had come undone at his touch. It was almost poetic that everything he tried to unravel Winnie’s mystery only served to rebound upon himself.

She was mystifying.

Monolithic.

Was she an altar to prostrate himself upon?

An object or worship?

The thought - as it passed his mind - sent a shudder of discomfort down his spine. Electricity arcing. Surging. Correcting.

Not an object, not an altar. Still sacrosanct.

A woman suffering under the pressure of newfound desire and want and affection. He had been so cruel, her undoing. Crashing past barriers unknown, striking at her unarmored heart. It was ironic, how she bade him do as he pleased. There had been a hope there that she would have some idea how to proceed. What she wanted to do, to feel, to hear. How ironic that the chameleon - the Magician - failed to please his audience. With everything he knew and understood. With all of the experience at his disposal, Oscar had not the foggiest idea on how to proceed.

What she needed to feel. What she wanted. Perhaps that was appropriate. Winnie didn’t know either. But she was right - this did feel real.

More substantial. The soft kisses and tender touches were more important than the act itself. He was in no rush. Content to let the fire rage between them, flaring violently each time lips ghosted against skin. His breath was ragged, hot. His heart thundered out of his chest. She had deigned to give him the lead. She demanded all of him. His attention and his affection. Not with word, but with every soft sigh, every sweet whimper and moan.

It was less than what she deserved.
But it was all he had to give.

And so he would do just that. His hands left hers, only for a moment, tugging at his tie - sliding out of his coat. He would let her hands dance down his chest, fumble with his buttons. He guided her hand to his collar, hooking her finger under the fabric of his shirt. He said nothing. Only willed it. It was at times like this that instinct would overcome ignorance. His hands moved to her sides. Fingertips trailing down her rib cage, settling on her hips. Her skirt hiked as he guided her leg to hook around his waist. He advanced no further. Content to explore her lips, her neck, her jaw with his own.

There was no cause to rush. If only time could slow. Not stop. But to stretch outward unto infinity. That the seconds could become minutes and hours. That he might savor the moment longer than he deserved. She begged him not to leave her in the dark. So he would let the fire roil and rage. Illuminating the wants and feelings repressed for so long. He would unravel her mystery after he had unraveled her. 

He would have his answer about who “they” were after he’d finished undoing the damage they had done.

“I won’t stop,” Oscar murmured against her lips. His voice was deep, hoarse. Words forced out only because she had spoken. Because she demanded a reply.

“I won’t leave you in the dark,” he continued. A vow spoken so freely. Even clouded by the haze, he knew well what he was saying. What it meant - to him and to her.

“But you won’t shatter,” he reassured her. He did not set out to break her. Oscar was not so audacious as to demand submission. He wanted only to exist and act in this precise moment. Focused solely on her. The feeling. The heat.

“You are allowed to do what you want,” he said, his voice a husky whisper in her ear. His free hand found hers. Fingers laced together, her hand pushed above her head, pinned to the mattress. “Who you want. As you please.”