#interaction: foreversnightmare

[bxldrsdraumar]

a kiss to distract lmao, lol even

"No, I must - I must get back - "

He feels the hands tugging at him, the fingers digging their grip into the crevices of his mind, and he loses focus for a moment, floundering at what exactly he needed to get back to.

Sigurd feels the lips against his, and for a moment it feels natural, expected, and he leans into it, arms snaking about the owner's waist and tugging them closer to him, groaning into the kiss as the fingers in his mind dig deeper, deeper, clawing at his consciousness, his memories, and finally there is a flash of a bright smile, a laugh that is like rain against his ears, the scent of lavender hair that is almost -

Almost -

Like the moonlight he sees before him when his eyes flutter open. He wrenches away, shoving Freyja from him furiously. "Monster!" he spits, clutching at his head.

[peerlessscowl]

"You know, the more you pout and scowl the uglier the face gets." The goddess of beauty would know a thing or two, but this was more to get under the skin. Freyja is an observer, she picks and chooses thoughs who look the easiest to piss off, which isnt the greatest idea in a boat where they'll be stuck together for awhile "Why the long face? Got people who hate you back home" she asked, faking innocent.

As it always did at such nags about his expression, Raven's brow furrowed, deepening the grimace on his face as he turned to regard the woman who had set herself before him. It always seemed to be beautiful women lately who took such issue with his face, apropos of nothing - not merely beautiful, but exceptionally beautiful.

"If my face bothers you so much, you don't have to look at it." Were they not on a boat, he would have offered, helpfully, to remove himself from her presence, but for the moment, and for the foreseeable future, they appeared to be trapped together.

But then she continued as though he had not spoken, and her words made him grit his teeth. Not simply the needling, the tease of someone who merely wanted to be annoying, to get a reaction, but the sheer wrongness of the statement caused his gaze to frost over as he considered her.

Hated? No, he'd no one remaining at home at all, and those who might have known him by name, nevermind by his face, would have all but considered him a ghost, a phantom that haunted them, if not in their guilty consciences, then by stalking the battlefield, the thorn of his rage in the paw of the Lycian Alliance.

If he were thought of at all, and not pushed restlessly into the afterlife along with the rest of his kin, a mere footnote, an afterthought in the annals of Lycia's long history.

He said none of this to the woman, for his eyes had alighted on the most prominent feature she bore - a set of wickedly curved horns, nestled, camouflaged amongst the thick tumble of her starlight hair.

Raven's eyes narrowed. "You'll want to cover those before we reach land, my lady, lest you see how hateful my countrymen can truly be."

[pryings]

a quiet hum buzzes through the dining hall as those assembled are shuffled in. this 'psychological experiment' or 'speed dating game' or 'social gathering' or whatever it is has been prepared. in place of the long dining tables, the hall is filled with numerous small, round tables, each with a number placed upon them. you are to find your assigned tables, chat with your partner, and hopefully make some kind of connection.

the goal of this exercise is somewhat vague, but knoll and hubert seem poised to take notes. so that's interesting.

schedule:

12pm. EST Feb 14 - 11:59pm Feb 15 ROUND ONE. 12pm. EST Feb 16 - 11:59pm Feb 17 ROUND TWO. 12pm. EST Feb 18 - 11:59pm Feb 19 ROUND THREE. 12pm. EST Feb 20 LAST WORDS.

please tag all interactions #toaLoveHypothesis2024. you will receive an ask from hubert or knoll within the next few hours asking if you like or dislike your partner. unanswered asks default to a 'no.' please answer it at any point before the round ends.

rounds will be 36 hours long, but should narratively simulate the speed dating experience of only having a few minutes to talk. it should feel rushed. interactions can be asks or short threads, please communicate with your partner to determine what works best. you can continue an incomplete interaction after a round concludes if you wish, but please note that you need to vote by the round's end!

the questions provided are only suggestions. if your muse would not want to discuss this topic, feel free to talk about whatever you wish.

forrest (@bruniatrobaire) & forde (@renaisguy) topic: you have been stranded in the desert. assuming you have the foresight to have chosen two items to help you, which would you bring?

tormod (@arcelerity) & leif (@diadic) topic: discuss your hometown.

dwyer (@apathynoir) & poe (@loveevangelist) topic: critique the other’s personal style.

elise (@nohrslittleflower) & niamh (@boundlesschaos) topic: if you could speak to one animal, which would you choose?

petra (@calderosea) & edward (@justices-blade) topic: how would you save your current conversation partner if you were in a sandpit together, getting slowly pulled down into the abyss? or would you prioritize yourself?

sothe (@nevassan) & faye (@fiberflxwer) topic: the ideal combination of pastries and beverages.

ike (@ofradiances) & raven (@peerlessscowl) topic: fear.

sylvain (@gauldheri) & goldmary (@flaurum) topic: choose between money, love, and power.

xander (@chevaleri) & farina (@making-dough) topic: tea or coffee? why?

nils (@carmennivis) & freyja (@foreversnightmare) topic: preferred ways to pass the time.

seliph (@virtuoustyrfing) & rosado (@rozyrne) topic: favorite flower

andrei (@ulircursed) & saizo (@saizov) topic: there are twelve orphans in a burning building. there are five adults who have a proven history of enacting positive social change that are being attacked by ruffians. you may only save one. choose.

erk (@adalrikr) & sothis (@sublimeflowoftime) topic: saints. yes or no?

duessel (@obsidiendo) & eremiya (@motheruin) topic: cleanliness of your room and your person.

(tumblr has set a limit on the number of people that can be tagged in one post, so this had to be split into two, if you do not see your muse's name, check the other post)

[bxldrsdraumar]

She does not care for births of something as lowly as a human. Freyja sees the celebration as meaningless, but apparently everyone else seemed very happy to hand something over as a gift to the loud-mouth idiot. Never to be remembered, Freyja rudely shoves a small box towards the man. No words said to him but the action is enough: happy birthday.

Her presence is a flicker of wind against his mind, almost like the familiar veil of a childhood dream dragged over his eyes, something that he cannot quite grasp to drag to the light but that he knows sets his heart to beating. 

It is his birthday. He is sixteen, and he is no longer a page, no longer a squire – he is a knight, proud and gleaming from tip to toe, and he is ready to serve his liege. He grips the hilt of his sword in his hand, and it is his birthday, and he is twenty, a steeled commander, and a lord in his own right, a beacon for his people. 

It is his birthday. 

He is twenty-four. 

And he weeps, alone, for his wife had been stolen from him, abducted from the battlefield like some faerie in a folk tale, a warning to children before bedtime – but he is not a child, he is a man, a husband, a father, and though he is surrounded by scores of loved ones who are eager to shed blood for his loss, he has never felt more alone. 

Sigurd jerks to waking, careful of his arms around Deirdre – and she is here, in his arms, and she loves him so much – and he feels the sweat breaking out over his body, his mind a churning maelstrom of confusion, of pain, of phantom grief for an injury no longer sustained. 

He looks over to their nightstand and spies a little box with a little bow, and when he opens it he finds a little pile of ash. A reminder, he thinks. 

It is his birthday. Sigurd does not know how old he is. 

[peerlessscowl]

a kiss to prove a point  knocking on your door let me in

He feels Aislin pressing against him and he stiffens for a moment, confused, before he allows the gentle tug of hands at his neck, his arms, his back. Her eyes sparkle when they meet his, despite the clear incredulity, the murmur of "you can't be here…" against her lips as she peppers him with feathery kisses, light as the breath of laughter, light as the moon in her hair, light as the steps in the fog as she dances away from him, avoiding the hand that reaches for her.

Raymond makes chase, stumbling through the fog, catching Aislin by the wrist and tugging her close, and her mouth meets his with a strange hunger, firm and insistent, devouring him with her kiss, and when his eyes flutter open he isn't met with Aislin's brown eyes but a sharp and vivid green, the hair in his fingers a russet not unlike his own -

He recoils in horror, shoving the laughing woman from him as he stumbles back, hands coming up as though to shield himself.

The horns spiral out from Priscilla's forehead and those green eyes flash crimson at him, her smile becoming cruel as he hears his sister say, "Never forget, child, you are not safe even in your own mind."