❪ event ❫ spirited away

[natha]

PRELUDE     I'll get straight to the point, Thesaens. Dranbu is in dire need of assistance. I have received confirmation that the disappearances we were investigating last month have... escalated. Be cautious as you make your way through Josa Forest. Ideally we could go straight through, but it seems the main entrance to Dranbu is overgrown with thorns and vines, and there's a bit of a glitch with the rail system - the train is having trouble recognizing the Dranbu station as a destination. I've uploaded a homing beacon to your devices with this message. Once enough of you have arrived in Dranbu proper, it should communicate with the train and register it as a stop. With any luck, that will make getting back and forth much easier for you all from now on. Best of luck. Entry to the forest is not only overgrown with vegetation, but seems to be growing at an increasingly alarming rate. Any attempts to clear the vines will be met with even larger ones growing in its place, and it only confirms Nurray's findings as true. The only way in is across the sound from Nadril, entering the forest from its snowy back yard. It doesn't stay cold for long; as one ventures further into the forest, the snow will disappear, as though it was completely out of place in the first place. The red sun's warmth will take its place soon after— and before long, you'll feel too warm for the clothes you came with. That's when you know you've entered the heart of Josa Forest. WITHIN THE FOREST     The forest seems to be thick with a profound presence that can’t be ascertained. While venturing through it, one will feel like there are being watched or followed. This feeling will only intensify as metallic-scented drops of rain begin to fall between the clearings in the trees. Unfortunately, what many don’t realize at this point is that this is how the forest itself eats. How it subsists and lives through the minds of those who eventually get lost in it. Wandering this far in is akin to walking into a lion’s jaw, or rather… straight to its stomach. But, the forest has a way of making one stay. While it swallows someone up, it shows them sinfully beautiful and picturesque sights. Even showing them people or things that are familiar to the lost. All of which will urge them to go in deeper and deeper. But, while the forest begins to prey on the mind of their victim— they will suddenly hear an elegant and alluring voice urging them back. This voice promises them comfort and safety. Promises to be kind and open. Promises she has a place for them where they will never feel displaced or unwanted, or lost. Before they can fully accept, they will find that they are whisked away in Barthala’s embrace. Some will be taken, wiped of all their previous memories and inserted new ones. Others will find they have no prior memories at all of themselves, only urged to go on with regular life. What is prevalent is the forest's desire to turn you. Metamorphosis is a phenomenon that occurs only to certain individuals, and there is no rhyme or reason to them. Some adventurers would find themselves changing by the minute, the hour, or the process may even take days and weeks. The forest toys with you, but it only wants to draw you closer to its core — as though there's a story there it wants you to see and understand. Will you go on anyway, knowing the forest has already has its claws on you? I. ALL ROADS LEAD TO — Exploring the forest is not a perilous experience - Barthala's blessing ensures that paths remain clear of any dangerous obstacles, and keeps anyone who enters the woods from losing their way. However, it will not always lead adventurers where they want to go. Stressed? Your path leads to a meadow, grass drifting gently in the breeze. Tired? You'll find your way to a tree with roots perfectly curved for a nap, the shade a peaceful retreat from the sunlight. The hungry will find streams full of fish or bushes laden with berries, and the curious will come upon elder trees, unique and beautiful. Only those who are truly satisfied with their circumstances, with themselves, can forge their own path, and venture to Barthala's Grotto. II. BARTHALA'S GROTTO — The deity's home is host to an abundance of life. Butterflies drift through the air, brilliantly colored and unbothered by any intruders. Foliage blooms in a rainbow of colors, many plants unique to this area alone. With trees arranged to provide a canopy over the path and small clearing, the scene is something out of a fantasy. Any plant life taken from this area will not survive long, though even in its dead, dried state, it retains a curious beauty. Explorers and creatures finding themselves in this area will suddenly find their clothing to be an unnecessary burden - what could be better than feeling the wonders of nature against bare skin? There is nothing unbecoming about such a natural state, any perverse inclinations are an aspect of personal preference. While the presence of Barthala can be felt here - a warm, comfortable sensation emanating from your core - she is nowhere to be found. Only one will have the opportunity to pass under a veil of willow branches and emerge to the cool air of a clear-as-glass spring. Another nearby grotto is home to a plant with intoxicating effects. Just smelling the leaves is enough to entice most animals, and consuming them has effects on both mind and body. More easily amused, with thoughts that weave deep and distant, along with increased sensory perception can bring the user on a pleasant trip lasting up to five hours. III. INFLUENCES — (18+) Every five days, a weed scattered in patches among the forest underbrush blooms. The flowers are small and white, unremarkable except for how clustered they grow. When their petals fall, after only hours of blossoming, pollen drifts through the air. It clings to clothing, to hair, in the throats of the sensitive animals dwelling in the forest. Even those unaltered by Barthala's magic can be affected. The locals of Dranbu claim the pollen enhances fertility, but in practice, it simply serves as a poignant aphrodisiac. Those affected won't differentiate between the warmth of another or their own, a simple need to experience sexual ecstasy overwhelmingly pervaded. The pollen loses its potency after about three hours, leaving behind only a sweet smell. YOUR NEW (NEW) LIFE    Adapting to an entirely new setting isn’t always so simple. People often say that assimilating oneself to the environment happens fluidly, and before you know it, you’re a part of it. In Dranbu, these words hold an uncanny sense of truth. When you awake, your day begins like it always has. Your daily routine meets largely unchanged, except a few tinier details. Perhaps, you’ve realized your true calling is an occupation within the villages itself. Maybe in farming up strange medical herbs, maybe in acting as a witch doctor for the people, or maybe you find yourself drawn to the arts and you really enjoy sculpting fellow villagers in the nude. Once you commit these tasks, you realize, it feels like what you’ve always done. As if it were natural, as if you’ve done them for years, and maybe you have? At least that’s what your gut is telling you, and slowly your memories will too. At the end of the day, when you return home, you realize you’re not alone. You have a partner who shares the same values and whom you love deeply. Or maybe a spouse whom you’re always arguing with. But, even that will feel as commonplace as the rest of your day. All you know is that the day that might have started off not being yours is entirely yours and yours alone. IV. THE HUNT — Those taken by the forest, animal features adorning their bodies, will find that their palates have changed as well. Carnivores crave raw meat, while herbivores don't mind snacking on a patch of grass or pulling leaves from branches. For most, there's no reason to cook a meal; once prey is captured, instinct says dig right in! It can be a gruesome sight, mangled bodies gorged upon leaving bloodstained faces, but it's natural. As is the hunt itself - any size of game can be found in the forest, and no one will go hungry for long. The magic that dwells here ensures a catch even for the clumsiest predator. Just take care not to stalk one of your own. For a hungry predator, there's no difference between a deer and a deer-like human. THE BOUNDARIES BEYOND     For some, placated is synonymous with bored. While there is a sense of wonder in the beauties of nature that adorn the woods, serene forest life isn't for everyone. Those seeking more adventure can explore the challenging slopes of Waco Mountain. Barthala's influence is weaker on those bluffs than in Josa Forest itself, so thrill chasers won't be disappointed. Lose the path, slip on loose rocks, fall into a stream and spend a night wet and cold, there are many perils that come with traveling a mountain-side. Scattered ruins offer some shelter, their walls carved with images resembling Barthala, a dragon, and three other stranger creatures. While the deity's pacification does not flow as deeply through this region, all are still save from mortal wounds, and the veil cast over their memories will not lessen. If you have made it this far, however, there is no reason to try to return to the main city of Dranbu. Accommodations are always available in the neighboring villages: Phares in the north, and Stroln in the south. These villages are in friendly competition with one another, and will tempt travelers with women and men of their kind in order to draw in business to their hotels. FINAL OOC NOTES     No REP is available for this log. REP will now be primarily available through achieving NPC quests, which will be available on the 19th! Please keep an eye out for that! Dranbu is entirely available for exploration! You may find that most of Wyver and Olympia Flora/Fauna may be found in the forest as well. For more information on your characters' (opt-in) Metamorphosis, please refer to the November Outline! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

aaaah i must have accidentally deleted this tag from my inbox...

[rosebyanyother]

[Peter doesn't seem to mind being guided, though if Molly tries to press him too far and too quickly, he'll be met with resistance. They've seemed to wordlessly agree on a pace so even though Peter's breath is shuddering by the time Molly begins to press him down, he doesn't deviate from the pace.

It means spending time on each of those scars, tracing them with his tongue and brushing his lips against them. He is methodical about it, in fact. Each and every slash, while his breath blooms against Molly's skin in warm bursts.]

[mollymocked]

[The resistance causes him to pull back as he bites his tongue through a curse about a pace he was fine with until the butterflies started. He bites down on his bottom lip, pricking it enough to draw blood and put the taste in his mouth that distracts him for the moment. The copper scent, so familiar to him, mingles with the smells of the glade and adds to Molly's own aroma of sweat and various spicy oils and incense and that constant ever present old copper piece smell that never goes away no matter how much he cleans himself or his clothes. Blood is just a natural part of him, whether he's drawn it or not.

He sucks on his bottom lip, letting the taste linger, letting him sink into that instead of craving the taste of that mouth on his or more- always more. That tongue is not the only thing he's aching to taste.

His hands move from guiding to settle on Peter's shoulders, pads of his fingers resting on the back of his neck, while his long fingernails drag through the soft hair.] They've all got stories. [Most of them lies. The words catch in his throat and he swallows hard, the blood acting as a chaser.] You've got your mouth on a lot of history.

[rosebyanyother]

[Honestly, if Peter knew that he was causing Molly frustration he would...

Enjoy it. A little. It's just part of his nature, to enjoy being difficult. To be a little bit unexpected and to force people to deal with him. They're very well matched that way. No doubt it's the reason he likes being in Molly's company as much as he does.

Listening to Molly's voice and the catch in it, Peter smiles, lips stretching against the skin below them. If he were a cat, he'd be purring at the way Molly's nails whisper through his hair.]

Tell me one.

[His voice is low, husky. He doesn't stop his careful investigation, and he shifts his focus a little from the smaller scars to one of the more impressive ones. Very, very gently he nips at it, and then sets to kissing it.]

This one, tell me the story of this one.

[It doesn't matter if it's true or false. He wants to hear Molly talk.]

[mollymocked]

[That one, that one... Three small puckered scars an inch apart that aren't perfect like the tiny cuts or the ones that look like deep arrow gouges. They rip at the edges, like something pierced and then tore itself out of him. He has matching one on his back, opposite it.]

Trident. [Molly sticks his tongue out slightly, relishing the feel of teeth on scars for no reason other than delight that yes, that's mine, and you can do whatever you like with it. He could lie, but the truth is grander and a bit funnier in a way, and he can't resist being clever.] There's another one on my back... Truth be told, getting stabbed in the back and the front at the same time generally goes much better than that for me. And fish persons don't respect safe words at all. Just a note.

[rosebyanyother]

[Molly mentions the scar on his back and Peter...readjusts himself. Molly has guided him just low enough that it makes sense to move anyway. If he doesn't, he'll have to bow his back uncomfortably in the near future if he wants to keep exploring.

So. Without actually parting lips from skin - hey, he's flexible too - Peter manages to shift himself so that he's kneeling between Molly's legs instead of straddling him. It takes some maneuvering, but it also makes it so that he can slip one of his hands in between the grass and Molly's body. His fingers quest to find the scars in question. And if he runs his fingers a bit along Molly's spine in the process?

Well. He can't see, he's just mapping by touch.

The little joke gets an obliging bit of laughter, though.]

I'll keep that in mind, should it ever become relevant.

[mollymocked]

[Oh gods, they're both flexible. Molly's eyes are half-lidded as he watches Peter move. He bends his spine inwards just a bit, giving him a little more space to trace the skin and the secondary, matching scar, and then bends upwards even more to let him trace the line of his spine all the way down to his tail, which is hitting the ground with impatient little thuds, giving away the fact that he may have made a solid mistake in insisting this was a moment to be savored.

He shouldn't be nearly this overwhelmed right now. He feels starved and needy, like he hasn't been touched in ages, which simply isn't true. He has. But not here. Not in this magical, magical place with the scent of flowers and sweet forest air and that pollen that he knows is responsible for this heat inside of him, but he can't be bothered, because gods he needed this.]

Are you memorizing them? [It's a gentle jab- flirtatious, more than anything.]

[rosebyanyother]

I'm giving them their due.

[Peter almost sounds serious, but then he lifts his head just enough to flash a self-satisfied grin at Molly.]

In deference to their history, of course.

[You can sure as hell bet that he is tracing that lovely arch of spine all the way down. Molly is, after all, being so obliging as to show it off. It would be rude not to take the invitation.

Besides, he's curious about the tail. As he kisses another scar just a little further down, his fingers gently brush up against side of it before he strokes up with his palm.]

[mollymocked]

[Molly makes a sharp, sudden noise at the sudden sensation on his tail. Jammed with nerves due to its connection with the spine and made of whipcord muscle and rough flesh, a tiefling's tail is a sensitive thing. It twitches a bit underneath Peter's hands and Molly's toes curl with anticipation.]

Just don't pull that. Mmph. [His fingers knead into Peter's scalp a bit.] It's a bit sensitive. Take that as you like. Curiosity is always rewarded here. [Even when the pace is agonizing. There's a fire in his stomach and his skin feels even more preternaturally warm than it normally is.]

[rosebyanyother]

Oh, I would never.

[Is he lightly going to scratch his nails against the base though? Definitely. It's delicate to begin with, barely a whisper of pressure.

Meanwhile, it's lucky for Molly that Peter isn't entirely unaffected by all of this. As much as he enjoys teasing, the pollen has him in its grasp too. The way that Molly's fingers knead his scalp has him shivering. Perhaps he does want more than Molly's skin and scars against his lips. Or, rather...still skin. A different area.

Without more discussion, he begins to trail his lips down a little more quickly. Still kissing and licking as he goes, just...not as agonizingly slow.]

[mollymocked]

[A tiny sound comes out of Molly's throat, like a choked giggle and his knee comes up again, very slightly, as a half-hearted deterrent that doesn't seem to carry much force behind it (like a playful "stoooop"). Barely a nudge into his abdomen, and then down again as Peter's wandering mouth begins to pick up momentum.]

I don't know about you, but I think there might be something wrong with this forest.

[He sounds unbothered, but he's also breathless with anticipation and that seems to be overriding all other emotion. By the time Peter has gotten to his hips, he's shifted his legs to pin him in on either side with slightly bent knees, expectantly.] Or very right. Hard to tell the difference from this angle.

[rosebyanyother]

[There's no answer immediately as Peter works his way down. He's rather amused by the way that Molly had reacted to his tail being played with, which...ah, that might warrant a bit more experimentation.

Not right away. For the moment, he has other things to keep him occupied. Like the fact that his head is properly between Molly's legs, lips brushing just up against the waist of his leggings. For a moment, he considers trailing further down to tease Molly through the fabric, but...

No.]

It likes getting its way.

[He finally answers, curling his fingers into the band of the last bit of clothing Molly has on and beginning to tug it down. His lips follow.]

I don't think I can judge. So do I.

[mollymocked]

[Fuuuuck. Molly was anticipating being teased, given that he knows how obviously he's straining against his leggings, and that's practically an invitation to be toyed with. Thank the Moonweaver that Peter seems to be finished with games, and an excited little hiss of a yessss comes unbidden from his lips as his fingers begin to encouragingly paw at Peter's hair again.]

I'm comfortable with that. I'm told I'm quite the generous person. [His breath itches, the sudden shift in sensation as he's beginning to be exposed sending him into a frenzy. Banter has left him. There's nothing but anticipation of being marveled at and being taken. He doesn't need Jester to tell him he has one of the most fabulous dicks ever. He's pretty comfortably aware it's something to see.]

[rosebyanyother]

[And marveled at he shall be. For all that Peter is extremely well-traveled, he's never come across someone quite like Molly. It's an exciting bit of newness.

He actually chuckles at the way that Molly's fingers scrabble at his hair and the way that he sounds excited. It's...honestly more endearing than it is sexy, but that's a bit of Molly's charm. And, well, Peter is just far enough gone himself that it doesn't matter.

His lips are just slightly off-center as he continues to peel the leggings down. That is to say, he won't be heading straight for Molly's dick. At least not with his face.

Little by little the ~masterpiece~ is revealed as Peter trails kisses down along his hip bone. When everything's finally clear, he sits back on his heels a bit to tug the leggings the rest of the way off. No need to trap Molly. (Though...that's an idea, isn't it.)

So. Molly is laid out below him and that is a sight. Surprisingly, Peter's breath shudders out of him at all of it, a flush creeping down his neck.]

Well.

[His voice is tight as he reaches out to curl a hand around Molly, thumb rubbing against the tip. It is fabulous, isn't it? Look at that color.]

[mollymocked]

[It's really hard not to say something about eggplant emojis, but that's essentially what we're dealing with here, isn't it. Molly's body twists a bit to accommodate the removal of clothing. His Platinum Dragon broach is tangled and off kilter in the grass instead of properly above his heart (there's a "leave room for Bahamut" joke in here somewhere) and he fidgets with the chain to keep it from choking him, briefly removing his hands from Peter just for a moment.

His tail, meanwhile, trails across Peter's chest, like a whip being dragged across a body the moment before a lash, seductive and dangerous all at once.]

That's certainly a reaction. [One he's used to, quite frankly. It always amuses him.]

[rosebyanyother]

One that doesn't surprise you, I'm sure.

[Peter is either talking about the fact that Molly must be used to people being taken aback at his differentness or simply...alluding to the fact that Molly might be a little vain and expect awe. One of the two, both probably correct.

He presses his thumb just a little harder against the tip, vaguely unsatisfied by how verbal Molly still is.

At the same time, he looks down to watch that tail's progress across his chest. Smirking a bit, he takes that in hand too. Hand curling just below the spade, brushing his thumb over it as he does the same on Molly's dick.]