middaeg | Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn

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Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!

It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a ~~horrible~~ beautiful Faun.

Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.

Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.

Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.

Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.

There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I could be.

[It's an offer. Hector gives Linden's leg a quick pat, then leans back.]

Finish that drink. It's a faun party, you have to indulge at least one vice.

[And after you drink up, L, the two can decide what other fun party activities to indulge in.]

[It is an offer. L is reticent to assume as much, but the cues are all there. Even he can't miss them, and the brushing contact confirms it.

Is it a drunk thing? A faun thing? A Hector thing? Or...]

I don't suppose Myr put you up to this.

[Because if it is a faun thing, Myr has never made those sorts of overtures, at least not so boldly. But perhaps as a faun, a Bonded's dry spell would be noted, considered something to be remedied, and Myr is the type to be owed favors or at least have friends glad to do them.

Even unpleasant favors, perhaps. L doesn't need to be told twice, at least, to finish his drink, which he tosses back quickly, even before Hector answers.]

[Hector huffs out a chuckle. The thought of Myr acting as a pander is an amusing one. The deer can be devious, but not like that.

At least, not that Hector's seen.]

No, he didn't. But he's a friend, and I do want to make sure his bonded has a good time tonight.

[He watches L down the drink as bidden. The man is a puzzle, to be sure. Hector enjoys a good puzzle.]

It is so surprising? You're amusing, and I'm not doing anything else at the moment.

Yes, Myr... is that.

[A friend, to both of them. He wants to laugh again, and for it to sound light, and natural, and create an easier mood. It doesn't happen; he's drinking, which never really fails to affect him. He knows as much all too well from previous experiences, and he's being rather intentionally reckless on this particular evening.

Being careful and keeping pace are such cruelly contradictory pursuits.]

I find clowns amusing. It doesn't mean I want to stimulate them sexually.

[For all that L doesn't get a lot of action, it's preferable to a tryst based on pity or obligation. That really would be the worst thing.]

You say that like it's not somebody's fetish.

[But Hector shrugs. He's in a playful mood, but he's not trying to truly make Linden uncomfortable. That would have the opposite of the desired effect.]

It's just an option I'd be willing to explore. But there are plenty of others. We could go play a game, or bet on one of the stag-matches outside. I could show you pictures of my dog. We could eat some food. It's a party. You can do whatever you want.

Paraphilias are wide and varied in scope.

[An earnest contribution to the conversation, rather than any sort of acknowledgment that it's a joke. On a good day it's difficult to draw a bead on the detective's particular puzzle-box of a sense of humor. When he's sober it's even harder, but that's well on its way to changing.

Alcohol unlocks his worst self, but it holds appeal for a reason. For a little while, anyway, he's more relaxed, more social, different enough from his typical self that he's more willing to believe that someone might genuinely want his company.]

Will you talk to me?

[About something very specific. Allow him to elaborate.]

Tell me how you proposition someone and make your intentions known. Is it easier when they're strangers and you have less to lose? Or when you know them, and know that they like you, but comparatively stand to lose much more?

[Hector nods. A lesson? He's not the best person to explain social interactions, but he's certainly brushed up on seduction since he became a faun.]

Alright, I can do that. First thing to know is, humans are completely illogical and inconsistent. So you'll never find one method that works for everyone.

[He leans back and rolls his shoulders.] Hmmmm. Before I came here and became a faun, I would have needed to know a person more before I'd proposition them. Now, it's easier, because people expect it, and don't hold my offers against me as much.

[He looks Linden over, trying to gauge just how pertinent this conversation is to him. Idle curiosity, or is he actively trying to seduce someone? Hector is still trying to figure him out.]

I can try to give you some pointers.

[L nods, following the premise easily. Yes, humans are illogical and inconsistent; he realizes as much, always has.]

You'd attribute much of your recent success in this regard to having become a faun, then.

[There's not much to L. Hector's glance-over is unlikely to reveal many boons; though he's dressed well tonight on account of Light's gift, that's unusual for him. He's scrawny, with a hunched back, owlish eyes, pale skin that says he doesn't go outside often. He looks youthful for his age, but that actually might work against him instead of in his favor.]

Yes. I'd like that.

[Another drink too, maybe. His is empty; nerves have a way of canceling out any intention to pace oneself.]

[Still not really certain why L needs this knowledge, but with his typical lack of caution, Hector does his best to impart what wisdom he has.]

First off, it doesn't matter as much what you say, but how you say it, when you're trying to get your intent across. Watch.

[He settles back against his chair, lifts his glass, and with a smile and a casual shrug, asks:] Drink with me?

[Then he leans forward, hand once again brushing Linden's leg, and lowers his voice to an intimate whisper.] Drink with me.

[It's over-exaggerated for the point of the lesson, but Hector hopes he's getting the point across. Body language, tone, proximity, all important factors to consider.]

Edited (coding) 2020-12-20 05:20 (UTC)

[Learning and teaching are both forms of interacting that L engages with relatively easily. Perhaps it's that adjustment of expectations, the acceptance and the premise that someone is coming to the lesson lacking in some way.

He doesn't blink as Hector demonstrates the difference in both approaches, as if afraid to miss something. This harkens back to the way the SQUIP taught him about sex, but flirting never quite clicked; in fact, he'd been advised to speak as little as possible and rely on physicality to get the message across.

He plays along, partly because he's a dutiful study, and partly because he could well want to get swept up in the game he's learning.]

Something that goes down easy, or hard?

[Hector's lips twitch at the corners, the hint of a smile, as L begins to play along. Now here's a fun game to keep them amused during the party.

He pretends to consider it, tapping his finger on the side of his cheek as he pauses.]

Hmmm. Why not both? Something easy to start, then we'll see what we have a thirst for...

[He scoots in close to L, and drapes an arm along his shoulders. With his other hand, he clinks his glass against L's.]

[The game is selected and the participants engaged. L leans a cheek into his open palm, propped up on a sharp elbow, as he listens to Hector with interest that is either feigned or genuine, but exaggerated.

His over-wide eyes sell it rather convincingly. There's a slight intake of breath at the contact, if only because it's been so long, and he stiffens before leaning in a little closer.]

Thirst is a strange thing. I think of cacti, first... but you'd think that they'd adapt leaves like funnels to catch the rain, instead of thorns, wouldn't you? Then again...

[He clinks his glass against Hector's, pausing to speak again before downing its contents.]

I suppose it just means they're discerning, rather than desperate.

Edited 2020-12-23 07:17 (UTC)

[It's a game Hector had little practice with before arriving through the mirror, but now he's come to enjoy it.]

Not much rain, where they come from. The needles are for protection. Some of the prickliest ones have the sweetest water inside.

[Or so Hector's heard say. He's never made it out into the desert wastes himself, just read about the flora in Dracula's library. But he's supposed to be flirting, not discussing the fascinating evolution of desert plants. ~~Nerds.~~

He rubs Linden's shoulder idly with his thumb, hoping to ease some of that tension he feels in the witch's frame.]

It can be worth quite a bit of effort to taste it.

[L watches carefully, noting how Hector takes his playful statement and parries it back. The cleverness, just a touch cheeky, might have been lost on the faun, but it's possible he's setting up something more.

Supporting that possibility is the physical contact. He leans closer, perhaps a bit too fiercely, indicating receptiveness. Sweet water could refer to other secretions. Semen is meant? L thinks it's at least a 74% chance that's what Hector is getting at, and those are safe odds. At least worth the risk.

Slightly less certain is what he properly remembers and relishes of these types of acts. The risk has, in fact, been significant.]

After a drought, such efforts wouldn't be in vain.

[The problem now is, Hector is severely tempted to abandon the flirting and go off on a tangent about the adaptive differences of plants in high and low-rain environments.

But flirting.

But science....]

Did you have a chance to see the plants during that dream from the past? Those had plenty of water, but a deficit of nutrients. Truly fascinating. Some of them became carnivorous.

[His voice has lost that sultry edge and had gone full biology nerd. Because fuck it, he can (attempt to) flirt with anyone, but he can't geek out about plantlife with just anybody.]

[L had thought he was following, and even excelling, in the vein of double entendres and nerdy flirting. What Hector says next throws that all into doubt; it's interesting, of course, but certainly shifted the tone of what L believed was occurring.

As educated as he is, to disgusting excess, he has no great passion for botany. He rubs at his jawline with the heel of his hand, squinting.]

I... hadn't seen, no. Their appetite was voracious, I presume...

[Whether or not they're still flirting, he can't, so much.]

[There's a halting of the flow of the conversation, and Hector has to remind himself that, oh yeah, not everyone cares about biology like he does. Right. Fuck.

He takes another sip and reminds himself that he's a faun. Focus on sex, not science.]

Yes, exactly. [He slips back into that flirty pitch.] Imagine being so insatiable that your whole physiology changes. Have you ever wanted something so badly?

[L's sky is a dark one with brilliant patches of stars. His passions are blazing, but also fairly rare.

It means that he can, however, relate to what Hector is suggesting. He straightens up a bit, nodding slowly.

He has; no one has ever wanted something as badly as he wanted to prove that Light Yagami was Kira. It lit something desperate and delirious in him that defied food and rest. It was almost spiritual, almost, indeed, sexual. He felt nothing but desire even as the case had carved out its pound of flesh.

He covets it, wouldn't trade it for anything. He swallows.]

I have. I still do.

[Hector leans in closer, with an intimate whisper.]

Oh? Tell me about it.

[He sets his glass aside and rests a hand on Linden's knee, rubbing gentle circles on it. He's not sure if the witch's interest is sexual or not, but they can play that it's sexy. There's certain to be passion there.]

[L shivers as Hector leans closer, in spite of the relatively stoic front he bolsters his affected daftness with. Excepting Myr's chaste proximity some night, he simply doesn't get physically close to others. At least, it's been a long time, and his last few experiences have been less than ideal encounters. One ended with the severing of all of his fingers, and the others weren't much better.]

I'm not nearly drunk enough to tell you that.

[Drunk enough to laugh about it, though. So he does, with a couple of wavery chuffs.]

Besides... aren't you the one teaching me?

We both know the remedy to that....

[There is so much booze here, L. They are spoiled for choice on ways to get the witch's tongue loosened.

He slides his hand a little further up Linden's leg to his mid thigh. Just casually continuing to encroach on the man's personal space, NBD.]

And yes, but you must remember, curiosity is the original vice of humanity. It's the myth of Pandora, and the sin of the garden. As soon as we find something tantalizing and forbidden, we have to know it.

You're making it dangerous? That's honestly kind of doing it for me.

[Drinking generally does bad things for L, bringing out the very worst in him even when he's not going from sober, frustrated and bored to far too drunk.]

Curiosity, as vice, is a myth pushed by those intent on keeping people ignorant and in line. The truth wants to be known, and curiosity is the ingrained answer to being told that inquiring further is verboten. They're told that to be curious is to be a bad human, when... it is just what it is to be human.

[Get him another drink before he derails again. A detective has lots to say about curiosity.]

[Hector's hands climbs up a little further still. Give Hector an inch, he'll take a mile.]

Ah, so that's what it takes with you...

[He smiles, drunk and devious.]

Why not let curiosity be your indulgence for this party? We'll both say 'fuck you' to those who try to forbid the spread of knowledge.

[L bolts against the back of his chair, before recovering with tense laughter. It's difficult to tell if he's amused, excited, or actually terrified. What's certain is that there are a lot of synapses firing.]

...yes, let's both say as much. To hell with secrets.

[If only he didn't have so many, himself.]

Should we find somewhere more private? I want to know more of your secrets.

[Hector slides his fingers back down L's leg, but only a few scant inches. Linden is so tense, and Hector's not sure if he can help with that or not.]

Very good. Let's.

[He finally leans back a little, affording L some breathing room.]

Are you still playing, or are we in earnest now?

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sorry this idiot is easily distracted

lmao

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