Niles // Zero (
cyclopticsadist) wrote in
middaeg2019-10-08 06:33 pm
Entry tags:
Come get y'all Goose.
Who: Niles, Entrapta, and anybody else!
When: Oct 1-12
Where: Refugee district/outside the city
What: Killing Cooking and Serving Geese
Warnings: None as of yet.
Hunting
i) Open
[Niles was not normally an early riser, but several mornings a week this month he can be found up and about in the hour or so before dawn. Bow in hand, quiver fully stocked, and pulling a small cart behind him he heads outside the city walls to hunt. With a bounty set on goose feathers, and a whole mess of new residents to feed in the refugee sector, Niles saw an excellent opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, or rather, solve two problems with one dead bird. Care to try and tag along?]
ii) Open
[Hunting is a calming, almost meditative activity for him, especially when aided by his new feline senses. Tracking game has never felt so intuitive, so natural, although he finds himself unconsciously sneaking much closer than he needs to get a clear shot. One of these times he might forget about his bow entirely and wind up pouncing claws and teeth first onto an unsuspecting bird. As such, sneaking up on him or startling him is ill advised. Better announce your presence first if you want to approach him mid-hunt.]
iii) Open
[By midmorning he's finished, some days with a full cart, others with less impressive hauls. Either way he's stopped at the entrance to the city proper and has to wait for city officials to thoroughly inspect each and every bird he's shot for signs of infection. Logically, Niles knows this is reasonable. The Cwyld is serious business and with quarantine procedures too much is better than too little. Emotionally however, he's grumpy, tired, and doesn't like standing around impotently while others pour over his work and discard some of his hard earned catches. So he passes this time by plucking any of the approved birds until the inspectors are satisfied. Feel like giving him a hand?]
Head Chef
i) Closed to Entrapta
[Niles grew up in the slums, and while the refugee section of town wasn't quite as derelict, it was far from comfortable lodgings. He's not skilled with a hammer, has no experience with building, and all of his skills in companionship and entertaining are far from kid friendly. His expertise at thievery, subterfuge, stalking, and assassination were also not very helpful for the work that needed doing. But the monsters rescued from Dorcharcht still needed their help, and Niles had more sympathy for them than just about anyone else he'd ever met. The sudden and overwhelmingly positive upheaval of their lives was familiar to him. Being yanked from desolate circumstances into relative luxury was its own kind of challenge and came with a unique set of growing pains and he'd be damned if he was going to let them face that alone. The least he could do was make sure they faced each day with a full belly, just as Leo had done for him.
So just outside of the bustle of construction and renovation Niles has set up several long tables. He's got a large stew pot on one, a few partially butchered goose carcasses next to it, an assortment of knives and pans and other donated equipment scattered about in a haphazard sprawl. This is where he brings Entrapta now, gesturing at the space he's claimed for his kitchen.]
An oven would be great, but mostly I need stoves. Stew is always the best choice for serving large crowds, but that takes time, and until then I'll want to be at least searing some meat and serving it along with bread and whatever other donated goods we can get our hands on.
[He looks to her expectantly, waiting for direction, his eye darting over the mound of parts and pieces she'd brought with her.]
ii) Open
[Pop-up kitchen now fully functional and stew pot simmering away behind him, Niles spends the remainder of the day chopping, peeling, frying, salting, slicing, seasoning, and serving whatever donated food he can get his hands on to hungry refugees and workers. Niles isn't exactly a culinary genius, but he's practiced at taking humble ingredients and making the most of them. His food is filling, flavorful, and satisfying, but don't take more than your fair share. His supplies are tight, and he's keeping a watchful eye over portion sizes, trying to make sure there's enough to go around.]
((OOC: Head Chef ii) is more exposition than anything else, feel free to tag in requesting a specific order, returning empty dishes, complimenting or critiquing his food, volunteering to help, whatever floats your boat.))
When: Oct 1-12
Where: Refugee district/outside the city
What: Killing Cooking and Serving Geese
Warnings: None as of yet.
Hunting
i) Open
[Niles was not normally an early riser, but several mornings a week this month he can be found up and about in the hour or so before dawn. Bow in hand, quiver fully stocked, and pulling a small cart behind him he heads outside the city walls to hunt. With a bounty set on goose feathers, and a whole mess of new residents to feed in the refugee sector, Niles saw an excellent opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, or rather, solve two problems with one dead bird. Care to try and tag along?]
ii) Open
[Hunting is a calming, almost meditative activity for him, especially when aided by his new feline senses. Tracking game has never felt so intuitive, so natural, although he finds himself unconsciously sneaking much closer than he needs to get a clear shot. One of these times he might forget about his bow entirely and wind up pouncing claws and teeth first onto an unsuspecting bird. As such, sneaking up on him or startling him is ill advised. Better announce your presence first if you want to approach him mid-hunt.]
iii) Open
[By midmorning he's finished, some days with a full cart, others with less impressive hauls. Either way he's stopped at the entrance to the city proper and has to wait for city officials to thoroughly inspect each and every bird he's shot for signs of infection. Logically, Niles knows this is reasonable. The Cwyld is serious business and with quarantine procedures too much is better than too little. Emotionally however, he's grumpy, tired, and doesn't like standing around impotently while others pour over his work and discard some of his hard earned catches. So he passes this time by plucking any of the approved birds until the inspectors are satisfied. Feel like giving him a hand?]
Head Chef
i) Closed to Entrapta
[Niles grew up in the slums, and while the refugee section of town wasn't quite as derelict, it was far from comfortable lodgings. He's not skilled with a hammer, has no experience with building, and all of his skills in companionship and entertaining are far from kid friendly. His expertise at thievery, subterfuge, stalking, and assassination were also not very helpful for the work that needed doing. But the monsters rescued from Dorcharcht still needed their help, and Niles had more sympathy for them than just about anyone else he'd ever met. The sudden and overwhelmingly positive upheaval of their lives was familiar to him. Being yanked from desolate circumstances into relative luxury was its own kind of challenge and came with a unique set of growing pains and he'd be damned if he was going to let them face that alone. The least he could do was make sure they faced each day with a full belly, just as Leo had done for him.
So just outside of the bustle of construction and renovation Niles has set up several long tables. He's got a large stew pot on one, a few partially butchered goose carcasses next to it, an assortment of knives and pans and other donated equipment scattered about in a haphazard sprawl. This is where he brings Entrapta now, gesturing at the space he's claimed for his kitchen.]
An oven would be great, but mostly I need stoves. Stew is always the best choice for serving large crowds, but that takes time, and until then I'll want to be at least searing some meat and serving it along with bread and whatever other donated goods we can get our hands on.
[He looks to her expectantly, waiting for direction, his eye darting over the mound of parts and pieces she'd brought with her.]
ii) Open
[Pop-up kitchen now fully functional and stew pot simmering away behind him, Niles spends the remainder of the day chopping, peeling, frying, salting, slicing, seasoning, and serving whatever donated food he can get his hands on to hungry refugees and workers. Niles isn't exactly a culinary genius, but he's practiced at taking humble ingredients and making the most of them. His food is filling, flavorful, and satisfying, but don't take more than your fair share. His supplies are tight, and he's keeping a watchful eye over portion sizes, trying to make sure there's enough to go around.]
((OOC: Head Chef ii) is more exposition than anything else, feel free to tag in requesting a specific order, returning empty dishes, complimenting or critiquing his food, volunteering to help, whatever floats your boat.))

no subject
Steady on...!]
I see.
[He doesn't need to ask who. He knows who.]
It ended poorly, did it?
[He knows that it did. Maybe the cast of his eyes suggests it... but it can be so hard to tell, with L's strange glassy gaze.]
no subject
Correct.
[Niles takes his own fork and snags the largest remaining slice, chewing on it and making an exaggerated little Mmm! of enjoyment as he chews and swallows. A little reminder that their game is limited. Unless Linded asks him to cook up some more of course. He didn't have any liver convenient, but he does have the kindeys waiting in the refreed?- referige?- fridger?- the cold box. Which he's sure Linden would find equally repulsive.]
no subject
Taking away one of my questions? You're not scared, surely...
[He pokes at a medium-sized remaining slice with the tines of his fork.]
Not when you really prefer to see others in that situation.
no subject
[He turns his back on Linden for a moment, tail twitching from side to side in full, jerky motions. When he faces Linden again he's wearing a bright wicked smile, and he plops the goose's kidneys on the table next to the plate.]
And after that, I've got the heart, gizzard, tendons. I can go all day~. Let's widen that palette of yours, shall we?
no subject
I have an alternate and preferred suggestion: let's narrow the questions. Why did you kill the SQUIP?
no subject
It bought me in the Black City, stripped me of my will and tried to shape me into what it wanted.
[There is no mirth in his expression now.]
If you're on good terms with it I suggest trying to discretely put some distance between you.
no subject
[He knows, after all, about the SQUIP's humiliation and its reticence to talk about a certain intimate encounter.]
Do you think that forcing an experience on someone's senses is alright, so long as you consider the outcome pleasant? Is that the deciding factor that makes it acceptable? I know that you do find it acceptable... I'm just curious to know where, precisely, you draw the line.
no subject
[That phrasing hits a nerve, and his ears flatten against his skull. He nudges the plate forward and fixes Linden with an icy glare.]
Two questions, two slices.
no subject
Two slices. Don't cut and run, now.
no subject
First; no, I don't. Whatever it told you, it had every opportunity to refuse or leave at any point. I gave it ample warning and it agreed. If it grew to regret its choices after the fact I'm not at fault.
Second; I draw the line at removing one's agency. The Squip crossed that and more by commanding not just my actions, but my thoughts, my beliefs. It had me bound, it had me obedient, but it wanted me tamed.
[His tail swishes behind him, stinger on the end catching the sunlight for a moment at its apex.]
And it probably wants the same of you.
no subject
His eyes narrow, but not out of anger. Things aren't lining up the way he'd expected from the humiliation and anger he'd felt through the Bond. He's already putting the tines of his fork through the next slice of liver when he speaks.]
You don't feel that you removed its agency by inciting multiple undesired orgasms?
no subject
No I don't. I offered to show it sexual practices it'd never felt before, it agreed. We discussed terms, if it wanted to put a stop to what I was doing it could have said its chosen safe word at any time. It was never bound, gagged, drugged, or compelled to endure what I put it through in any way.
Again, if it regretted its choices after the fact, or ignored my warnings and got more than it bargained for that is no fault of mine.
[He's many vile things, but he is not a rapist.]
no subject
But his logical side demands reexamination with additional evidence. He is more engaged now, more attentive, and it's not like his focus was wandering before. The effect perhaps feels like the human equivalent of being held and slowly roasted by a laser beam.]
It had a chosen safe word, and nothing was preventing it from saying that word.
[Why?]
'
Is there any chance that it was overwhelmed by the sensation or the experience, and unable to speak for a different reason entirely?
[An honest question, no cheating intended. L takes another bite.]
no subject
....It's possible.
[Then he looks up again, meeting Linden's piercing stare with one of defiance.]
But I did my best to provide it an educational, extraordinary, erotic encounter. In return it forced me into submission, toyed with me to test the limits of its power, and ultimately aimed to turn me into a docile puppet.
no subject
You sound like a dedicated hedonist. I can respect that... but my curiosity hasn't abated. I wonder why your Bond did not inform you of its state of mind, regardless of what it said or did not say.
no subject
His glare deepens. He answers in cold, clipped words.]
I felt everything. It's state of mind was fear, confusion, humiliation and arousal. All of those are parts of the game of domination and submission I was teaching it. That was the point of the word. To make refusal explicit.
no subject
You're well-versed in this game, clearly. In a way that might escape a machine when accounting for the degrees of nuance necessary to execute it properly.
no subject
Then maybe it shouldn't have claimed to have infinite knowledge of human behavior and an absolute ability to predict my actions.
no subject
[L doesn't hesitate to answer. His words come quickly and with tremendous conviction, a tone that continues as he says]
No one should claim that. Humans are unpredictable and strange. You can notice a pattern of behavior, or predict that a person will behave according to a motive... but you can't assume that it will always be constant or true, or that motives and even core values are immune to change.
[Hell, if it was easy, the police would never have had the need to call someone like L in to help with cases.]
no subject
One question, one slice of liver. If you want me to listen to you lecture, then I get to shove this down your throat at the end.
[He holds up the kidney and squeezes it threateningly. Some juice flows out of it and drips down his arm.]
no subject
[He takes another bite, chewing deliberately and maintaining eye contact.]
Did that strike a nerve just a bit?
no subject
Yes. Now by all means, keep wasting your questions on things you already know.
[He scoots a few onions around on the plate, moving the remaining liver pieces to a cleared portion in the center.]
Two left until we get started with this.
no subject
It's lucky that I don't have many left. I'd really hate to overstay my welcome, and besides, it's a bad idea to rush too much meat on a stomach not accustomed to it.
[Two left, full stop. And he doesn't feel he's wasting them; just hearing Niles admit it, witnessing the tone and expression, say volumes.]
Why does it strike a nerve?
no subject
...I don't like being falsely accused.
no subject
One slice of liver remains. L's last question is one he's invested in, so much that he's the one who seems to be actively enjoying himself by this point. Because the pieces, oh. They are beginning to slide and slot into place like one of Near's rapidly completed puzzles.]
And, so... what is the worst crime you could be accused of, falsely or no?
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