Hint: me

if you're not TOO tired from (lol) "managing" Hibari and co., wanna go for a ride?
( Restlessness accompanied by insomnia has plagued Elspeth for years, ever since joining her Lady's crusade against the Dark Lord Asmodeus, and has worsened since arriving in these strange lands. After several hours of tossing and turning within the luxurious sheets, she reluctantly forces herself out of bed. Her footsteps are soft and light (perhaps a bit bouncy due to being used to having 75 plus pounds of equipment) as she makes her way towards the living room. Clad in a shirt of Troy's she found long abandoned in a drawer; with the difference in their size, the shirt was drastically oversized.
Climbing onto the couch, she picks up a journal from one of the end tables, opening it to a new page before turning the on the television. Coming from a world with a pseudo-medieval mercantile society, Elspeth adjusted to the use of technology rather well, likely from years of having to adapt due to war. She flips through the channels before settling on a military channel. With the volume barely above a whisper, Elspeth watches with an intense gaze. Jotting down notes in her native language and sketching any tactics or formations she finds useful.
Elspeth still has a hard time wrapping her head about the events that lead to her staying with Troy; one moment she was facing off against Asmodeus with her Lady, pushing her aside from what the blonde thought was a deadly attack, but was a teleportation spell. That spell landed her in a strange world filled with technologies and things she could have never imagined in her wildest dreams. The newly displaced otherworldly woman was quickly preyed upon by a man offering to help her, which Elspeth accepted the help reluctantly due to not having any other options. She spent several weeks working in what they called a Hostess Cafe, filling the niche for a christmas cake archetype they were desperately needing. Though she hated the work, she felt indebted to the man for his help, and being a person of honor; she continued to work for him.
That was until another man stumbled into her life; tall, dark, and extremely handsome (unlike anything the cloistered woman had ever seen before and made her a bit flustered). It took some convincing, and to the dismay of the Cafe owner, Elspeth accepted Troy's offer of help.
As she reflects on these recent evens she threads a hand through her long blonde hair, pulling it over her shoulder to idly plait as she half watches the show in front of her. She assumes that Troy's still sleeping, so she does her best to keep quiet as she deals with her restlessness in the living room. )
It was a long, hard-fought battle they shared. A needed victory against a towering beast. Both took turns saving each-other's lives, and silent gratitude hangs in the air.
Edelgard seats herself upon a lounging bench as she keeps pressure on the gash that sits just at the bottom of her ribcage.]
A soft, satisfied hum escapes their mouth when they can feel his hand sliding between their asscheeks. Slowly they raise their ass up, encouraging him to do more magic with those fingers.]
Hmmm...you know? [Enkidu gazes at the window, noticing that the blizzard has become worse over time.] For once I do not mind this bad weather... [They're still wearing their top. A silky piece of clothing embroidered with beads and golden thread.] ...it means we do not have to be in a hurry...
[And now they glance at him from over their shoulder, a small but mischievous smile appearing around their lips.]
...you can have me as much as you want...as long as you want.
Ridiculous.
[She sincerely doubts they were built with the sole purpose of entertainment, since all machines she's dealt with previously were constructed for combat and military programming. Who cares if a robot moves to music?]
[In any case, she has more important business at hand, such as purchasing provisions for her new 'quarters.' She hasn't yet set foot in her assigned living space, nor does she know who might be living close by, but she knows she'll need a few things (such as food and hygienic supplies, like a toothbrush and soap). It still feels awfully surreal, and there are times when she catches herself feeling the hard bevels of the purple gem embedded just below the notch centered between her collarbones.]
[Despite having access to a wealth of fresh food, Winter seems to be buying cheap canned and instant goods, splurging only on good tea.]
[Halfway down the last block to her assigned housing, the plastic bag of groceries abruptly drops from her right hand as her gloved fingers start to tremble. She stops, brow furrowed in annoyance, and she flexes her hand in and out of a fist a few times before stooping to gather up the bag in her left hand, bearing the full weight of her purchases.]
But she keeps to herself, head low and only approaching men who could pay, figuring she would never having anything to do with the mysterious man. Which is why it takes her by surprise to see him crouching before her, offering to help her after her worn out heels had snapped.
He was more handsome up front, distractingly so even. She wouldn’t call him ‘pretty’, but he gave off a different aura from the grimy creeps that lurked the streets. ]
Ah…you don’t…you don’t have to.
[ It was almost embarrassing to face him even. ]
so, maybe it’s only natural that she is where she is, planted right in front of the door to his lodgings. that, too, had been something ningguang urged her to do (get to know him a little better, she’d said, and try to relax, while you’re at it), but the fact that keqing is actually following through with her advice is wholly of her own volition.
she’d mentioned to him yesterday that she was going to require a bit of his time (though, curiously, she hadn’t specified what for), so the quiet knock-knock-knock of her gloved fist against fine wood shouldn’t come as a surprise, nor should her voice as she calls out, )
Troy? ( a pause. she shuffles around a bit, planting her palms on her hips. ) It’s me, Keqing.
( … as if that wasn’t already obvious. she halfway-regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth, wishing that she was just a tiny bit better at this sort of thing, but… well.
what’s done is done, at this point, right? all she can really do is wait for him to open the door, so she can drag him right through the threshold. )
sorry for the delay! this missed my inbox entirely and then ffxiv hell grabbed me
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The heels of her boots click against the stone halls of the churches cathedral and the sound echoes within. Where he rests used to be an altar, so the irony only thickens.]
So you remember?
[Just a clarification as she steps closer. Those pale eyes, with pupils seeming to blend in with her sclera in such bad lighting, watch him carefully. She remains on guard.]
The petite red head had the long straw for their tour that night at least, having gotten a hotel room to herself. It was nice to have some quiet in order to remove the make-up, the wigs, the jewelry, the accessories, and everything that was fake. She saw how tired she looked in the mirror, sighing at herself before starting to button up her loungewear -- and there was a knock at the door. At 2 in the morning.
"Who's there?" Adela called out, frowning towards the hotel room's door from the open bathroom one. She didn't order anything for room service, the other girls should've been getting ready to sleep too... What if a fan or some paparazzi had somehow found the hotel to get with the lead face of their band? God she hoped it wasn't that, it was too damn late at night for that kind of garbage.
Not for love, and not for politics, either -- that would require her grandfather to see value in his broken doll of a successor. She was, at worst, an experiment meant to please his fickle amusement, in those rare moments that she remembered to be human and cried out for mercy in the rotting workshop hidden at the bottom of the Matou mansion. And at best? So long as she kept her head down, her voice quiet, her eyes distant, she was given grace to pretend she was a mannequin in his household, thoroughly ignored.
It is why her knees nearly give way to shock when he summons her, voice distant and remorseless, at the upcoming arrangement. It isn't escape from her succession -- Sakura is not stupid enough to assume so, and Zouken is certainly not kind enough to pretend -- but she will be sent away regardless, married to a man she'll officially meet a few days before her wedding day.
And whether her future husband is young, old, in good health, or on his death bed... all they need to focus on is bearing children with impressive magical circuits. As a magus, that should be sufficient. She has no right to argue otherwise.
So she doesn't. Without a word spoken to the ones she cherishes, Sakura Matou resigns herself to her last few days in Fuyuki, and arrives in Tokyo by her lonesome.]
do we need more sinning? probably not. is my brain fixated? yeah 😔
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uncle troy
( Nothing innocent comes with that form of address, now. )
pick
🐱 👮♀️ 🐰 or 📣
( There isn't any more context than that, except for any general awareness Troy may have of how close Halloween is. )
So she runs.
She met Troy a few years ago and they've kept running into one another since. He's military, she thinks. Or maybe a military contractor. The point is, he's been polite and charming and he has his own power. She's seen it in the way his father treats him. Her father might be the most powerful man in the solar system, but even he can't reach out and touch someone like Troy without fearing the consequences.
A part of her isn't sure. What if she ends up as something else for Troy? A tool, a toy, a distraction? What if he decides he's bored with her? There are a lot of ifs. Especially after they fucked. It wasn't supposed to happen, but one thing had led to another and she'd lost her virginity in a coat-room, her voice muffled by his hand and her head spinning from anrush of hormones and pain and pleasure. Her feelings are mixed.
But he's not her father.
So Miorine runs. She pays someone to get her out of school and through immigration and she shows up on Troy's doorstep with a duffelbag and not much else. She buzzes the gate and she waits. Troy knows who she is.
And hopefully he doesn't regret what happened.
She doesn't, even if she still feels confused about it. About him.
She buzzes it again and thumbs the intercom. ]
Are you going to leave me waiting out here all day?
She hopes her child comes soon, because she's starting to feel a little tired of it. Still, Ingrid's hands rub protectively against her belly as she thinks. Her gaze has been drawn to Troy and then he speaks to her and she starts with a bit of a shrug. ]
You don't have to stare at my breasts like that, you know. You've seen them before.
[ She sighs. There's no venom in it. Just mild irritation. ]
And... just feeling the pregnancy, I suppose. I'm looking forward to getting this child out into the world...
[ She wants to be active again. ]
Once Troy had arrived at her atelier, she doesn't hesistate to pull him inside to show off the interior. It's a two-story building that was big enough for multiple people to crash in if they needed a place to stay.
Originally, she had made an atelier for her hideout from adults... But now, she was old enough to take these buildings a little more seriously. Though she still found the term 'hideout' to be really cool. Ryza folds her arms as she stands in the center of the room with her arms folded with pride.]
Heh heh heh... Before we head out, let me introduce you to the amazing Atelier Ryza! Pretty cool, huh?
that's the thought that rolls through yukari's head as she stretches herself out on the mat, warmed muscles pulling under her skin. the bright pink sports bra yukari wears is constricting; it's not something yukari enjoys wearing. fingers curl over her toes, flexing and testing the tape wrapped at her arches. the black material of her athletic pants shift and ride up as she continues to ready herself.
too damn early.
the more yukari can focus on the early hour, the less she feels anxious about meeting with her stunt trainer to go through some new choreography. it's been about eight months since troy was hired by the studio, and since then yukari has had the absolute worst time trying not to be attracted to him. my god, she is only human, and yukari is weak to how tall he is, how solid he looks. she's trying so hard not to think about troy's head between her thighs when she catches him in a hold, and she's definitely not thinking about how much she wouldn't mind if he kissed there. if he let his lips wander, his teeth grazing her thigh.
oh no, wait, she is thinking about it.
grumbling to herself, yukari sits up straight and folds her legs. her arms stretch; her back muscles pull and work the sleep out from her flesh. a deep breath in and yukari glances at the clock on the far wall. 8:01am. too early. way, way too early to deal with all these conflicting and frustrating feelings. ]
He could approach in an official capacity, as Rex Lapis, but for the past several months he's left the task of extending and maintaining those formal lines of communication to the Qixing. A temporary silence from Rex Lapis isn't unexpected in a situation such as this, anyway. So when he ventures into Terran territory he does so as Zhongli, a knowledgeable yet purportedly completely normal funeral consultant from Liyue, and he does so simply because he's curious.
To Zhongli, it quickly becomes clear that the differences between the two groups of humans are fairly insignificant. Generations may separate them, but there's a peculiar quality to humanity that both groups seem to exhibit - which of course means that fights are an inevitability. He's in a Terran border settlement - more trading post than town - on a fine autumn day when one such fight breaks out between a Terran merchant and a counterpart from Liyue; and 'fight' is truly the best word for it, given the raised voices and a gathering crowd and emphatic gestures that threaten to become physical violence. Zhongli didn't come here with the intent to meddle, but it's quite literally in his nature to meddle when it comes to disagreements over trade.
So he approaches, much to the surprise of both merchants, though the Terran's surprise is layered with wary skepticism - a wariness Zhongli can't find fault with, given that he's clearly from Liyue himself. He doesn't bother offering reassurances and instead immediately turns himself to the task of mediating the situation. The source of the argument - a disagreement in the value of the technology offered by the Terran merchant and the jade offered by the Liyue merchant - is easy enough to identify. Working out what each man is offering, what each man requires, and how each man values his stock is much trickier.
But negotiating contracts is like breathing to Zhongli, and he's sorted through disagreements with much higher stakes than this one in the past. It doesn't take long to come to something that both men agree to... mostly. With neither man is unhappy with the final proposal, the Liyue merchant is much less cautious to accept it than his Terran counterpart. Not an unanticipated roadblock, but not one that can be solved with more negotiation. So Zhongli switches gears. ]
You needn't take only my word for it, of course. A Terran that's visited Liyue Harbor would likely know the value of Liyue jade.
[ For example... Zhongli turns his gaze to the crowd, which had mostly dissipated when it became clear that a fight wasn't actually going to break out. He's certain he'd spotted someone familiar not that long ago, however, and after just a few moments his gaze lands on the man in question. ]
You there. I believe I've seen you in Liyue before, and in the company of the Qixing at that.
[ In fact, Zhongli is sure of it - but if Troy wants to avoid this conversation for some reason, there's not much sense in trying to stop him. ]
But there's no urgency to be off Midgard yet, especially since there are some repairs to be done on the Astral Express before they should set off into space and those warp jumps. Despite her love of the train, sometimes Himeko thinks they leave these planets too quickly, never resting, never taking time to explore the fascinating differences between planets or their markets. Or the coffee, should the planet happen to have any. It's a lucky thing that Midgard does boast coffee, and she has gotten her hands on freshly roasted beans. It makes the entire stay that much better.
Repairs take time, and if Himeko isn't the one working on them, she likes to oversee, which means she spends more and more of her time on the train and not exploring the planet. But repairs also come with the inevitable delays for a myriad of reasons: parts needed that take time to source, schedule conflicts, the lighting making it impossible to work, and even her own body requiring a break from squeezing into small spaces to wiggle a gear back into place.
It's one such afternoon, not too long after they'd found the Stellaron and later watched the government change hands that Himeko finds herself free from obligations. She has no specific plans in mind, which is perhaps why she found her way back to the government headquarters, familiar to her by now. There's nothing specific she needs, but she wanders the halls, peeking in doors at the boardrooms and offices around. No one seems to notice her, or at least not pay much attention, which suits her just fine.
Eventually, she does come across something that sparks her interest: a small kitchenette, complete with a coffee pot and, she discovers, after poking around at the cupboards, coffee beans. A perfect way to spend the afternoon, she decides, and sets about brewing a pot of coffee. No one else will drink it, but that's their problem.
It's extra strong and richly bodied when she's finished, the fragrant notes of freshly brewed coffee drifting down the hall. She pours a cup, savoring the scent before she drinks. ]
So, it's perhaps something of a visual shock to see the train stationed there. Several times wider than a typical train, its design is a fusion of nostalgia and futurism, of the era of steam engines and a level of technology that was once unthinkable on Earth. With a gunmetal black body accented with gold-like and pearlescent materials, it cut through the golden-green to glisten in the sunlight.
Boarding the train is no less of a spectacle. Immediately upon entrance, one finds oneself in a lounge lit up by chandeliers, with generous seating lining a polished marble aisle. In one direction lies the cab, the conductor quarters, the dormitory, and the dining hall; in the other, the lounge, the entertainment room, the viewing deck, and the private suites.
Several people are milling about, though not in great numbers. In its current state, the train is little more than a ferry for those who have business in far away city-states, or for new arrivals transferring from the capital to their new homes. But that, Cornelia thinks, is what makes it an ideal opportunity to invite Troy to visit and show him the impact of his support.
When he makes it to the lounge, he'll find himself in a two storey room with a curving flight of stairs. Everything here is white and gold and blue and deep, rich wood, but the decor is sparse, almost reminiscent of the prefab station. A work in progress, surely, and an ambitious one at that.
There's as few people here as there are elsewhere, and for the most part they're caught up in themselves and the company they're keeping. Here and there, bits of one conversation or another rise above the din, broadly about the various destinations people are headed, and the visions they have for an unknowable future.
It's there where he'll find Cornelia, or maybe more accurately where she'll find him. The doors to the private suites swing open with all the bravado of someone who has some place to be, and Cornelia pushes through them with a pinched look of frustration which fades into something more apologetic when she spots Troy, to whom she beelines.]
I apologise. I meant to meet you at the station, but I received a call I couldn't decline. [A pause, as if to take in the fact that he's really here. But that's how it's always been with them, really. Such long stretches of time apart, such short bursts spent in each other's company.] It's good to see you again. How was the trip?
( She attaches a very helpful photo displaying her current location and status. )
Each time Makarai looks at the stars, she feels a sense of nostalgia, even when the constellations she can see are different than the ones she grew up with, and none of the stars in whatever sky she's looking at are familiar to her. (Or maybe they are? She's never asked about that.) The sky here is different enough that she can't pick out any patterns, even in the few minutes she spends with her head tilted back, glasses pushed up so she can see the night sky without any impediments. She's even pushed back her bangs, which slide back into place with little effort when she rights her head, looking for Troy rather than at the sky. ]
Do you know any of the myths about the stars here?
[ She slips her glasses back into place, the lightly tinted lenses hiding her dark brown eyes as intended. They had a tint to the rest of the world, but it's easier to deal with that than have people ask about her eyes. Now that she's not staring up at the sky, she shoves her hands into the pockets of the black coat she wears, and she kicks lightly at a rock on the ground. ] And don't try to tell me there aren't any, everywhere has some stories. [ She's clearly teasing, her tone playful, and lips curled into the slightest hint of a smile. ] Do you make wishes on falling stars and shit like that? I stopped a long time ago, although that's been a common thing among the places I've been. They're either going to bring you good luck, and thus you make a wish on them, or they're... fuck, what was the word? Portents of evil? [ She shrugs. ] Bad luck. Something like that.
How could she not recognize him, when she'd already seen everything that hid beneath the luxurious fabrics he wore. The solid arms that embraced her and held her up against him, the large hands that caressed every part of her, the lips that had touched her own and left marks across her skin, and those eyes that burned with passion as they held each other until the sun rose. Someone who was meant to be a fleeting moment in her life now stood before her, being introduced as her partner for the rest of her life. One would think that a blessing, but not when he was everything opposite of her. At least, opposite of what her family stood for.
Roxana had no love for the Agreces, but she knew where she stood in the eyes of society and the acts she had committed. She took no pride in them, but she held no regret or shame either. And now she was meant to stand side by side by some...honorable hero? What contempt he must hold to wed the daughter of a family that dealt with and lead the filth of the underworld.
But even worse than that was the gall this man had to leave before she could walk out on him. Roxana had no intention of attaching herself to him, but it hurt her pride to be the one left behind. And she wasn't one to take kindly to insults.
A perfect smile remains on her face through boring introductions and conversations held between both parties, and it remains until they decide to leave the pair to themselves. Taking a sip of her tea, her eyes meet his, her smile clearly not reaching them.
"We're both aware that this is an unavoidable situation, but that doesn't mean we need to make it any less comfortable. Shall we discuss any expectations we may have for this arrangement, your majesty?"
There was no denying the pull between them, what with the increasing difficulty of keeping their hands off one another. Whether it be the office, the garden, even behind the curtains, the palace maid and the king seemed to forget their respective roles one their bodies touched. But Alex couldn't bring herself to cross that line of going any further, no matter how badly her own body ached to be with him. It was a long battle of knowing her place but also acknowledging the feelings they had for one another. Troy respected her decisions thus far, but even she felt that this no longer felt...fair to him.
He was always so open about his affection, assertive in letting her know how he felt. Where as she was hesitant, nervous, and always cautious. To the point where she avoided assignments that would give her more time with him in case it made anyone suspicious. But she wanted to be different, now, for him. Which is why she offers to switch with the maid in charge of helping him prepare for the evening, allowing them the privacy of being with each other.
"Good evening, your majesty. I'll be assisting you tonight."
The bonus points was that she always had stories to bring home to the townspeople and rare items to share with them. Ryza wasn't the only one who has grown up, though... Kurken Island has become less closed off from the world and more of an open island spot for people to visit. There's been a few worries about Kurken losing its uniqueness by branching out and expanding to commentate people, but Ryza knows that the village head and the townspeople would never forget that Kurken spirit.
The alchemist can vouch as she's never truly moved away from her roots as an ordinary girl. She was just know an amazing alchemist girl who was still a tad bit ordinary in some aspects. But those who knew Ryza well could say that 'ordinary' was one of the last few words to describe her.
One of the best ways to get to her home island was through ship which was how her and Troy were traveling today. He was curious about her home and Ryza was very excited to take him there! Okay, well... She's got a few nerves here or there such as him meeting her parents, but that was a hurdle to cross once they gotten to it.
The alchemist stands at the front of the ship's balcony with her hands proudly resting on her hips as she inhales the ocean air. She's not the captain of this ship, but with how much energy she has... Some might've mistaken her as the one running the show!]
Man, oh man... Nothing truly beats sailing on ship! I can see my home right over there!
[She points over to the distance where her home island was waiting! The sight of Kurken never gotten old for her. Home was truly where the heart was.]
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