auroraexpress | (no subject)

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Who: Everyone
When: Day 20, evening
Where: The train and surrounding terrain

[So after all the earlier excitement.... dramatic organ music starts to play through the cars. There's no obvious source. It's just... There? All around you for a while, before fading.

Of course before the music fades there's more things going on. A mist seeps up from the earth outside the train and within the train simply seems to form like it's produced by invisible fog machines. As the mist grows into a thick fog, you can hear eerie noises. Distant wolf howls, the screech of a fox that sounds like human screaming, owls hooting hauntingly, the leathery flap of bat wings, and other, less identifiable noises of the night, strange and otherworldly.

If you go out in it, breathe it in, the mist will chill you. Make you desire... Touch.

The need to hold another person is an almost growing compulsion, but it can be fought.

However things that are harder to avoid are the flowers, night blooming wisteria in white and purple seems to have grown from nowhere in the train cars, hanging down to brush the heads of passengers with sweet scented blossoms, and the floors of the train and ground around it have become endless beds of gently glowing moonflowers.

The only places the fog and flowers don't reach are team cabins.

Effects:

Mist:

Cold that cannot be dispelled without touch, a desire to touch others.

Wisteria:

Purple blossoms cause an empathetic bond with the next person you touch.

White blossoms cause arousal and a mild to powerful aphrodisiac effect.

Moonflowers:

Share memories or thoughts with the next person you touch.

By morning the mist and flowers will vanish.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Moonflowers.

[Hi hello yes naeva has a ton of them. She loves flowers so much crow you don't even know.

though she has some purple wisteria so you're going to--]

I've never seen so many in one place.

[ Oh boy he's gonna hate the purple wisteria when it hits! ]

Yeah, but what do you suppose brought this on...? Flowers don't normally spring outta nowhere.

The mist, maybe? Normally, I'd see moonflowers like this on a full moon, but...

[She squints at the sky.] ...Is there even a moon here?

[ He looks up at the sky. ]

...Heh! I couldn't see it right now even if there is.

The light in the mist is weird too...but I guess that should be expected.

[She shifts a little, moves the basket in her hands and comes over to see how many moonflowers are closer to him. This will end well.]

I wonder if I can take some of these and plant them in the greenhouse.

Probably.

[ He scoots over slightly so she can get closer. ]

I don't know much about plants myself, but as long as you pull them by the roots, shouldn't you be able to replant them?

It depends on the flowers. If they're annuals, they wilt and you need to replant the seeds every year.

[While she's talking, she takes a flower in one hand, to show him where the seeds will be. She bumps the other against his arm to direct his attention, and that's when the memory starts.

For a man trained to lead from the battlefield, she'd expected he'd be more scarred up, but the most visible marks on Lucien are the scratches down his back...and the bitemarks in his neck. She doesn't like to dwell on the latter, but it's not she doesn't have better things to focus on. Like the blazing heat of him in her hand, bringing to mind all kinds of terrible flowery prose about the divine might of Kings. It's kind of concerning her novels were ever right about anything.

He's still a little drowsy, but there's a shimmering heat in his eyes, a hunger that sends a shock through her, even if she licks her lips.

"Last chance to back out...you sure about this?" She sees him gulp, and smirks. Truth be told, she knows exactly what to do with her fangs to avoid incident, but he looks good when he's nervous, so she hasn't told him that. Still, he's too brave to back down, so they're both going to get what they want this morning--

The memory cuts out before Crow learns anything about Naeva's actual technique, you decide if that's fortunate or unfortunate, but Naeva's oblivious to the effect.]

[ Crow doesn't respond immediately, his entire train of thought derailed utterly by the memory-- Naeva's memory. Naeva's very, very lewd memory. What could have possibly--

His first thought is the flowers. Well, there's one way to test that hypothesis. He casually brushes his hand against a flower and then bumps her lightly back. ]

[ Crow isn't really seeing anything but the stars floating in his vision, but he doesn't need to see to do what he's doing. His eyes are shut, but there's the impression of pressing into generous breasts, hands firmly clutching a firm ass, legs wrapped around his waist. Lips tangled sweetly in a hungry kiss, lewd and wanting.

He rubs his dick between his partner's legs ones, twice, thrice before he plunges inside of her with a husky groan. The feeling is hot and wet and amazing, but he stays still for a moment, his cock needful and throbbing as he makes out intently with his partner. And then he starts thrusting, hard and fast and hungry.

It's electric, it's magic. It's amazing, and the sounds of both of their moans mingle in chorus as he thrusts into her again. And again. And Again. He pulls away, his eyes still shut as he murmurs into her lips.

"F-fuck," and he says it as though it were an obscene prayer. "You feel--amazing---"

And he's so close, he's so close, just a little bit more and he's going to--- ]

[Naeva yanks herself a step back with a loud yelp. That was absolutely more than she ever wanted or needed to know about Crow's dick. She can't and doesn't want to think about identifying his partner.]

W--what the fuck?

I think the flowers have side effects.

[ He says it calmly, cheerfully even. ]

What did you see?

...Something extremely lewd. [She is very clearly wrestling with wanting to know what he saw and wanting to never ever hear about what it could be, if she saw something that lewd from him.]

Something lewd, huh?

[ He sounds extremely entertained now. ]

Don't give me that look.

[She puffs some air into her cheek. Which peels off the cleverly disguised bandage a bit...aw. She'd spent a long time trying to get that not obvious.]

Sex, Crow, you know I meant sex.

[ He's going to do her the favour of pretending not to notice that peeling bandage. ]

Well yeah, most of my lewd encounters lead to sex.

[She'll end up peeling it the rest of the way off to expose the nasty cut herself, after a second, the bandage is irritating her too much.]

I've half a mind to think you were hoping it'd be a lewd memory.

Only half?

[ He was absolutely hoping it would be a lewd memory. ]

The other half is unsure that's even possible with these flowers.

[SHE IS POUTING SO HARD. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.]

Kinda seems like the most obvious cause, don't you think? Though now I'm wondering what might happen...

[ He gestures at her basket. ]

...with the other flowers.

...There's really only one way to find out, isn't there?

[She'll hold up the basket for him to pick.]

[ Luckily for the sake of Naeva's future sanity and unluckily for Crow's, it's the purple one he reaches for first. ]

Let me know if you see any more sexy memories!

[ And before she has a chance to protest, he taps her forehead with his bare fingers.

There is, of course, the immediately obvious amusement and a spark of genuine curiousity. He may not be the best student when it comes to book learning, but he loves to be right. And he wants to be right about this guess!

There is more beyond the immediately obvious, unfortunately for Crow.

It's a quiet sort of feeling, but it colours everything. It's not quite paranoia, more an intense sort of wariness. Trust no one. Be alert. Stay on guard, always stay on guard. You have to pay attention, have to stay alert, can't slip up-- can't let anyone in, can't believe anything they say. Think twice, listen. Draw your own conclusions.

Everyone has an ulterior motive and you absolutely cannot trust them. Everyone betrays, so you have to be ready to betray them first. Keep yourself safe, first and foremost. No one else will.

It buzzes through every part of him, buzzes through the amusement and the seemingly carefree grin as he waits to see what happens. ]

[She goes very still. She knows--knows he'd never willingly let her see that deep. Knows she shouldn't know this. And she also knows that now she's in a dangerous position of having to tell him exactly what she knows now without calling attention to the depth of it. She stands there, for a second or two, and then takes her gloves off. She takes the purple flowers from him, and then grabs his hand, seemingly just to pull it away from her head.]

That's not a memory.

[She sounds irritated, but now he'll know she's not. Her curiousity is fading but still there, as she gets answers--and she's deeply concerned what the white wisteria could be, still--but her mind runs a mile a minute, sorting and compartmentalizing all she's feeling. And it's good that it does, because even her petty emotions are so intense as to feel like a punch in the gut. Her iron self-control is the only reason her reactions seem as normal as they do.

The layer under that is a sort of sorrowful concern. Worry for her people. Worry for Lucien's. Worry for the worlds they must restore. She has seen so much suffering and will see so much more and she carries it with her always, a reminder, deep and raw, of what she must do, used as a weight to keep the last layer buried.

Because the last layer is hunger. Raw, primal and animalistic. She's fed recently so it only crackles and buzzes at the distance of her perception. It doesn't express even in words. Just the beating, burning pulse of every predator. Hunt. Feed. Sleep. Repeat. Control is of dire importance. Control the beast. Keep it leashed. Keep it tame. She knows what will happen if she loses control.]

...Maybe we should skip the white one.

[She says it calmly, evenly, but she meets his eyes without flinching. She knows--he will know she knows--what he'll feel.

A collateral. Mutually assured destruction. I'll keep your secret as long as you keep mine. This is the only way she thinks Crow can swallow what's happened.]

[ None of her feelings seem to bother him-- not even that primal hunger, deep and raw and infinitely more than any beast he has within himself. Her feelings are intense, dizzyingly so, but they're not even remotely what bothers him.

It's the implications that get to him.

There is the briefest flicker of an anger lashing out violently-- not at her precisely, but still lashing out-- before he pulls his hand away from hers. The smile on his face never even flickers, the mask doesn't slip. ]

Haha, you're probably right! Well, at least we know it's the flowers huh?

[ She's right, of course. Mutually-assured destruction is the only reason he can swallow any of this. ]

Mhmm.

[She looks at the carpet of flowers, coating everything outside and in the train, and rubs absently at her shoulder.]

...Going to be tricky to avoid touching them, and I've got no desire to know anything else about your dick.

That's too bad for you, I've been told I'm great in bed.

For the sake of both our dignities I will choose not to refute that nor find her to confirm that.

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nsfw memory,

ANOTHER nsfw memory

Re: ANOTHER nsfw memory

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