(open + closed in tags)

[flashystyle]

Who: Dorian Pavus (flashystyle) & you!
When: The week post-attack
Where: The Institute & Olympian Streets
Warning(s): Very tired would-be scientist doing his best



I. The Institute

[The Institute's most prestigious scholars working tirelessly to produce a cure sounds very inspiring on paper. One might imagine careful, clean environments with all neatly organized ingredients across their work stations. They may even go on to say that their researchers must have the most capable, cleanest, well-manicured hands for the job.

This is not the case for Dorian, nor his work station. The laboratory may have started clean, but it's long since deteriorated into the space of a man who has been taking advantage of the 8am to 4am hours since all this bombing business began. Unlabeled bottles are littered across the counters with no indicators as to what they are any longer, books are left open on dog eared pages far too close to the former, and stray notes have been made ineligible by stains of Orbiters know what. There's ever a hole eaten through the counter that might indicate if one had drank whatever potion came before what's currently simmering, the wouldn't have just been silenced by a sore throat.

Whether it be depositing findings, coming for updates, or passing through as an employee or visitor, you've come through the open door to this mess of a station. The one responsible for it has a hand through his hair with the other nursing a bottle that he hasn't quite noticed it isn't his water yet. He doesn't look up from the brew when you enter, but he does raise his voice the second you step through the door.]

There must be hundreds of different species out in the wilds. Hundreds! And yet all of them are either poisonous, just aesthetically pleasing, or only serve to make people talk to one another! I don't mind the talk, truly, but what is the point if no one has the solution to this sickness? Words of encouragement that only make the pang of failure hit harder? I'm close to just combining all the sleeping agents and putting the patients down for a long rest, because that might be less excruciating than trying all of these. What do you think?

II. Streets

[For research purposes, Dorian has tasked himself with picking up an overabundance of Liln from a flowershop outside the Market District. With the bomb being an airborne flu, they seemed to have fled to the point of becoming pests in places free of the sick. One might notice they're carefully contained in a glass jar as Dorian makes his way through crowds of citizens gathered to gossip... up until he runs into someone.

That someone might be you, or it might be another unfortunate soul who simply wasn't looking where they were going. Regardless, the jar of the creatures slips through his fingers, shattering into pieces once it hits the pavement. The Liln scatter in fear of being trapped again, consequently latching onto any hosts in the the vicinity of the broken glass. Needless to say, due to the suddenness spread of a brightly colored creature, Olympians around also scatter lest it be another stage of sickness. Those that stick around will find that the Liln harmlessly slipped onto their skin, forming a tattoo potentially revealing of their mood in their panic. They will also find that they're now in the company of a very tired man.]

Those were to be our test subjects for a cure, you know. [He says, lines of a bright red snake curling around his neck.] Best hope those don't make an M.

III. Wildcard

[Dorian will be around the Institute, Sanctuary, and the Red Light District at night looking to hear the information of others who are out capturing/gathering intelligence. If you've an idea for their interaction outside of the prompts, feel free to tag with it! Or hit me up at meganerd for a closed prompt idea.]

Comments

[vorrutyer]

[ By lifts both eyebrows at Dorian, now. ]

This is rich coming from the fellow with cocks on his knees.

[flashystyle]

[He chokes on the bread.]

I'm-- I'm sorry?! I almost thought you said I have cocks on my boots.

[vorrutyer]

[ Hah. ]

Not meaning rooster, of course. Just in case there was ambiguity. Cocks meaning dicks.

[flashystyle]

I'm quite familiar with what we're referring to, but thank you for the clarification. I'd be lost without it.

They are very clearly serpents. I can't help that your mind is constantly on a cock clock.

[vorrutyer]

Ah hah. Are they? I believe I have some insight, now, into why you feel a connection to the serpent that forms your sigil.

[flashystyle]

[Dorian simply stares at him for a long moment, then takes the bottle back up for a long drink.]

If you imply that any of my attire is dick-related one more time, I'll have to make a policy of never touching yours again.

[vorrutyer]

[ By grins unrepentantly. ]

That'd be a far more fearsome threat if you couldn't, as I suspect, get me off with your voice alone.

[flashystyle]

[He nearly chokes again, but it's trying to force back a grin of his own.]

Shall I just leave you to handle yourself every time, then? I'll come over, read a novel aloud, be on my way? Much less work on my behalf.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, I'd be grateful for that alone.

[ He sighs warmly. ]

Though now I'm wondering if you're the sort of man who finds it gratifying to deny others.

[flashystyle]

Oh? And now I'm wondering if you're the sort of man who finds it gratifying to be denied.

There are times where restraints can lead to greater satisfaction, but I certainly wouldn't be reading during them.

[vorrutyer]

[ By sighs longingly. ]

Don't tease me with the prospect! That would be too delicious for words. Though - what's the old line about sadists and masochists? The masochist says 'hurt me,' the sadist says 'no'?

[ By reaches out to slip his fingers up along Dorian's ankle, peeking out from under the sheet. ]

A denial like that would break my poor heart.

[flashystyle]

You wouldn't have started all this talk if you didn't like being teased.

[Dorian hums thoughtfully, setting the wine aside and leaning forward to place a hand at his knee.]

I wouldn't break your poor heart unless you deserved it, my dear. I'm not so cruel with such things.

[vorrutyer]

Hm.

[ By runs a finger along Dorian's knuckles, now. ]

Are there circumstances in which a man does deserve to have his heart broken?

[flashystyle]

Sometimes. [A beat.] When he does things with little care for others.

[He clears his throat, taking up a less grave smile.]

Luckily my bar for that is high, so you and your terrible jokes aren't on thin ice.

[vorrutyer]

What's this about jokes? The serpent is the most phallic of creatures, and you're deluding yourself if you think otherwise. I'm deadly serious about that.

[ Byerly lifts his finger to sketch out a snake-or-maybe-a-penis, then fishes the bottle from Dorian's grip to take a swig from it. He winks, though, as he does so. Speaking of keeping it light. ]

And I look fantastic in maroon.

[flashystyle]

Vishanta kaffas, you look awful in it! You are awful.

[He laughs, shoving Byerly's free arm as he sits back.]

I'll see that something of yours burns if you don't wear something normal for once. Then what will you do?

[vorrutyer]

[ He huffs out a mild sigh, then decides: ]

Well - I suppose then I'll strut around naked, and receive admiration and thanks from all who see me.

[flashystyle]

[He shakes his head, leaning back on his hands.]

I think not. I'll be receiving thanks for sparing everyone's eyesight. They'll tell you how charming and well-dressed I am, and that you should follow my example.

[vorrutyer]

Really? You think that if I go out, my enormous cock waggling around like an elephant's trunk, perfect ass bouncing in the morning sunlight, people will be commenting on how well-dressed you are?

[flashystyle]

Elephant's trunk? Really? I'll give you your ass, but hardly that. It isn't anything they haven't seen before, so of course they'd rather be looking at me.

[vorrutyer]

Oh, so would you be naked, too, then?

[flashystyle]

My clothes are still in tact in this situation, you scoundrel. If I were, though... I wonder how much more business I would get.

[vorrutyer]

You'd certainly get more attention. Certainly, your clothes now are - hm - interesting, and no doubt attract attention. But your bare chest and thighs...?

[flashystyle]

You'll make me blush, Byerly. My chest and thighs, your ass and... mmm... sizable cock? I'm not so certain the world could handle all of it at once.

[vorrutyer]

No? Hm. Then perhaps you ought to let my suits be. Just so the world stays safe.