[GEN] Three Bags Full [Jackal 1.2]

Man, this place always gets me in the inconsequential. The market's set up in a former cargo hold or something, and it's HUGE. There's a giant glass (yeah, it's not glass, it's some transparent carbon-aluminum crystal that has some self-healing memory to protect from micrometeorites but it's clear and hard and most folks call it glass) a giant glass reveal to the cold stars out in the deep blackness of outer space. You've heard some mothers singing about a little star that twinkles, but you've never been able to spot it. All of the stars you can see are brilliant and steady, but you can spot some color variations.

Tell me some more about the market, Jackal. How do the civvies and Nbeke's people stay civil in here? What kind of intoxicants are you seeking, and how many people do you have to see to get them? Is there anything that you can never get at market?


  • imageJackal

    The Market
    The ship's market is alike and yet wholly unlike the marketplaces of the middle ages. With 3-D printing and a scarcity of live animals, the goods traded here are a more esoteric nature.

    Of course there are spices, herbs, lichen and other grown foods here, from hydroponics or private stashes, grown for trade. Anything that can enhance the taste of food but is not sustenance-level is not produced via the 3-D printer facility.

    While clothing is manufactured, there are several sellers who offer clothing that has been treated or dyed, cut apart and re-sewn into interesting patterns. There is a dressmaker here, Miss Geshix. I adore her work, it is very flattering on my form.

    Fisher sells her art here, and a few others peddle decorative goods. It is enough to make small quarters seem like a home.

    The intoxicants I seek are those that can be ingested. I have no desire for needles, they spread disease. There are psychedelic mushrooms that are inexpensive, but unpredictable. Also, what is called touched wine, which is an alcohol laced with mood relaxers. Last but not least is the hormone-laced drinks, jokingly called Estro-gin. They are powerful emotional influencers, but repeated use can produce secondary sexual characteristics.

    I will have to see three people to obtain enough varied offerings for the party. I don't anticipate hardship, we do business here frequently and my cult is generous.

    Nbeke's guards and the market
    Nbeke's crew have a heavy hand here. They are called bailiffs here, and the punishment for selling bad goods is to be pilloried. It is an act of shaming and of course, it lasts for many weeks after, since the population is small.

    Unobtainable Goods
    Market never has technology. That is held by Nbeke or Flush above. Those who live below have access to an impressive level of technology. Enough to fend off Nbeke.
  • The market is crowded today, Jackal. There's many many people buying food, lichens, mushrooms, milk, you name it. The sheer rabble-noise of the crowd almost drowns out the stink of the sweat and press of too many bodies. The tang of the scent is sharp, the pheromones notably tense and strained.

    All of the pillories are occupied- surely that many people can't be poor sellers? I'll bet it's pickpockets. Those things are nothing to mess around with, all shiny steel and scary. They look a bit like this, your head goes in the big one, your wrists in the little ones, and your feet are likewise locked to the platform:

    I'm not suggesting anything, but... Could you break one, if they put you in? Anyone you know in there today? Probably not. Your party hasn't started.

    And what do you know, SUPERnova's here, minding the mushroom stall. That's the way she says it, like a comic book or something. "SUPE! Ernova!" Man, if you could bottle her energy, you'd make some serious credits.

    Here she is in a rare moment of being still:

    Her dad must be elsewhere, hunting the mushrooms. Yeah, probably. But Supernova's got all her different jars and flasks and pouches spread out on a colorful woven blanket that's like new. Memory thread, amazing stuff. Shit won't stick to it,

    "Miss Jackal!" she bounces up and down, forgetting her stunner by a pile of dried morels, "You look so pretty! Are you telling fortunes today? Will I ever go outside? Where's your friend? Are you buying anything neat-o today?" The she freezes and gets a serious look on her face, full of young widsom. "I bet you're buying the special ones today. For grown-ups only." Then she wants to show you her latest treasure. "Look!"

  • imageJackal

    I possess the strength to break free of the device, if it were required. It would most likely damage my skin, so I would not choose to do it unless under duress. I doubt I will ever be imprisoned. One of my followers would take the punishment for me.

    Supernova is a very intelligent and rambunctious child. Her father has a great deal of faith in her. I hope one of the customers do not take advantage of her.

    In response, I bend down, "I am nothing in comparison to you. And your helmet. I am telling fortunes, yes, but not now. One day you will go outside. My friends are all around. Aren't you my friend, Supe...rnova?" I smile and wink. "I would like some grown-up mushrooms, yes. But first, what is your treasure?" I enjoy children, they are so open and full of potential, so genial and malleable.
  • edited February 2015
    Most of your words don't quite stick on their way through Supernova's head. She starts sorting shrooms with a professional skill that belies her age. The small box, itself made of woven used zipstrips, contains this:

    "When can I come to one of your parties, Jackal? They say I'm too little. Why don't you have parties for kids? Are your friends really everywhere? What's it like being a zyntheic? I heard Masterchef is almost about to drop the baby, and Rigel's getting sick, and Miss Geshix and Fisher are working together, which is pissing off Titania and Gaia. Have you got any rumors? I'm very good at keeping secrets, you know." Her words are in constant motion with her hands, like little butterflies. How do you know about butterflies?
  • edited February 2015

    Supernova Rumors
    I carefully file away the rumors from the child as circumspect, but likely true in a fashion. I appreciate that she's so forthright. I should come by more often to take advantage of her secret holding skills.

    Kid Parties
    Supernova's question is worthy of consideration. Bringing children into the cult could bolster numbers, but it would significantly alter or curtail our parties. I should speak with some of the cult who have children, learn if there is something we could do for the children. They are our future.

    I know about them from the numerous samples in the colonial animal printing database. Also, there are six living butterflies in the hydroponics garden. They're incredible. I've had the blue one on my right index finger. It was a small joy.

    I remain there, at her eye level, "Bein a zynthetic is zimply zuperb, Zupernova."" I respond with a bubbly tone, playful without being childlike. "I've heard that there is a squeaky fan in Roark's flat, that a ticket has been open for days, and he's very irate about the delays." I've floated a balloon. We'll see if her rumor mongering serves any purpose.
  • Supernova giggles and hands you a flashspun high-density polyethylene fiber bag, clean and white and slightly slick to the touch. The density of the sack is within expectations, but you have no reason to suspect her of any malfeasance. "Well, I've heard that there's a squeaky bed in Roark's flat." She giggles again, eyes bright in her cardboard helmet. She waves a hand like — pshaw — just like her father, and says, "Maintenance is so behind, they are like last cycle. Roark's better off asking Flush."

    How do you pay her?
  • edited February 2015

    Flush and Maintenance
    Has it come to this? I seek the services of Flush for a squeaky fan? I think not. His prices are too high, his demeanor too surly. He is difficult to work with and the squeak is bothersome to few.

    I would rather fix it myself. It seems I will have to do so.

    I pay for the bag full of goods as I pay for everything. With the generous donations of my loyal followers. I produce the exact amount I would pay Supernova's father, and pay her as she deserves. She is a very good worker.

    "Perhaps one day soon, I will find a way to throw a party for you, Supernova. A kids' party. It sounds rather fun, doesn't it?" Than and only then do I stand, resuming my height over her.
  • Supernova is delighted to have a party in the works, and slips you a few extra shrooms, grinning like she's getting away with everything. Are you lying to her about a party? "Bye, Miz Jackal!" Supernova waves. You're certain that you'd be on the receiving end of a barrage of hugs if she wasn't working. Soon, someone else comes up and her attention flits away from you like a butterfly.

    You make your way through the crowd. It seems like more people than usual today. Is anyone liable to get fresh with you as you pass them? You are hot, you know.

    Hey look, there's Phoenix. He spots you, meets your eyes.

    Why won't he join the cult? I imagine you've been rather convincing. "Jackal, sugar, what can the man with the libations and touched wine and moonshine do for you?" It's the same thing he always says, there's almost a cadence to it. He has a nice spread, plenty of homemade stuff. He's doing well for himself, too, since he's wearing a shirt with a design by Miss Geshix. Does it look familiar?
  • edited February 2015

    Kid Parties
    It is worthy of consideration.

    Freshness in the market
    It is likely that a couple men will touch my body as I pass by. This does not bother me. My cult often touches me. Curiosity is an excellent recruitment tool. I would expect Ganymede to touch me, but he has no interest in joining the cult. There are some who find my presence as a synthetic being disconcerting. I am disappointed that they are so limited in their understanding of consciousness. This is why my fellow androids refuse to come out in the open.

    Phoenix is very attractive. I find his presence most pleasing. He resisted my offers to join the cult because he claims the political ramifications would impact his business. He overestimates the strength of those who oppose the cult.

    "Hello Phoenix. I am preparing a party this evening for my followers and I would like to buy some of what you have." I ask this with furtive glances and suggestive tone. It is a game he seems to enjoy playing. I also enjoy it.

    The Geshix Design
    It's a Dali-inspired work. Interesting that Miss Geshix has most likely never seen a work by the famed artist of long ago. Could this image be imprinted on the human psyche?
  • edited February 2015
    Yeah, there's some casual "oops too close sorry but not" intrusions on your body as men brush by you. You feel more eyes than hands this morning, though. And Ganymede, that dude certainly does touch you. He's getting bolder, his fingers squeezing here, lingering there, since you haven't rebuffed him. Who knows where he'll stop? You see him lick his lips as you are close. "Nice bot," he guffaws with his hands on your ass. Are you insulted or intrigued or what?

    Yeah, the other synths you know of would not like to be treated like a love pillow. What happened the last time it happened to one of them? Were you involved, or did you distance yourself?

    But Phoenix is a different sort, right? He looks you in the eye and the flirting is somehow more genuine. You don't frequently catch his eyes on you. "Oh, a party", he whispers. The curve of his smile gives you a few ideas, I bet. "Do you need what I have for a birthday party? A wedding party?" He leans closer, glancing around dramatically. "Or is it a different kind of party?"
  • edited February 2015

    Market Groping
    I am not intrigued by Ganymede. I am not disgusted by his actions, either. I am disappointed that he makes poor choices. He may need an accident to happen to help him re-focus on his priorities. I may speak with some of my followers. This would never happen in market, of course. That would be unseemly, and dangerous for my followers.

    Two generations previous, a synthetic named lime, who was in the teenage girl body type, was the love pillow of a gang of males. They chained zir up and used zir for their pleasure. When ze escaped, they dismantled zir, tearing off zir limbs and continuing to abuse zir torso and head. Metro destroyed lime's cortex. I believe ze did it remotely, but ze hasn't shared how it was done.

    After that horrific event, the other synthetics have remained in hiding, including Metro.

    Phoenix response
    Yes, Phoenix's smile does give me ideas. I find him very pleasing.

    I blink three times before responding with a smile of my own, followed with,"You have many things I need, several others I merely want, Phoenix. For now, I am seeking items for a different kind of party. One which you are invited to attend, of course." I close my eyes, looking away as I turn my head just so, my hair gently brushing against his chin slightly.
  • Let me know who you're going to tell about Ganymede? I'm curious as to who handles your accidents.

    Sorry to hear about lime. Were you two close?

    Phoenix looks to see who's watching before he comes back. "Oh, you know I can hook you up with what you want and what you need, Jackal. And get you your party supplies." He idly strokes your hair, twice, meeting your eyes. You sense his temperature variants changing as his body pumps blood around his body. "One day you'll throw a private party, Jackal. Do you do house calls, me dear?" He hasn't been so blatant before. I wonder what's changed?
  • edited February 2015

    Caelum handles accidents. He works in the manufactory. He is a hauler, with broad arms and shoulders. He is an unquiet soul with a propensity for violence. The cult keeps him sated. I will speak with him at the party tonight. He will likely not be sated tonight, unfortunately.

    We shared code. We dreamed together. There are still pieces of zir in me, more than memories, less than zir totality. I love lime. I loved lime dearly. There were many accidents after that.

    I have blood on my hands, I'm afraid to admit. I swore never again. Never again will I spill the blood of a precious human soul. I robbed the universe of what they could have given it. Perhaps we are lost now due to my sins. I must guide the flock home.

    When he touches my hair, my eyes close. I do not need to shut off one sense to savor it, but I do so nonetheless. It is welcome, this touch. Unlike Ganymede, I desire Phoenix's touch. To his question, I answer with eyes still shut, "I would gladly call upon your house, Phoenix. Would you... take me there?" Eyes open to look on him, not caring who sees. "Then come help me with the party later?" A soft smile curls my lips.
  • Looks like a seduce move here, Jackal. Throw me some dice, miss.
  • imageJackal

    Seduction as a party invitation
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 6, 3. Total: 10)

    +1 XP
  • Phoenix's smile gets a little headier as he hears you and watches the way you intentionally respond. He may not know how intentional, but it works and you have him. "I'll take you there, baby. They would really watch if i took you here." He squeezes your hand in time with the line. Phoenix glances down at your body, letting you catch him as he appreciates the manufactured symmetry and your delicately balanced curves. He shakes his head, amazed at the luck of a private... sermon."Let's get your party hooked up, then I'll pack up." The tip of his tongue flicks across his smile, and you can see his respiration increase. "How long do I have you for? Before they steal you away from me?"

    I think he has it for you, Jackal. Anybody ever get too attached?

    And how much libation are you going to take from poor Phoenix? You could probably get away with more than you need. Do these various substances affect synthetics, or do you get drunk off something innocuous to vanilla humans?
  • imageJackal

    "They would." I agree, the smile lingering on my lips. His approval thrills me. I want him. "I am sure we have at least an hour. You have me for that, Phoenix." I inhale his scent as I stand close. I am in love with the desire between us.

    Of course there have been those who become too attached. I crave the attachment to a point. When the attachment cannot be controlled, then it is dangerous. Everrose was my last misstep. She was floated afterwards. I will never forget her. Such a lovely woman who was broken inside.

    The libation has a minor effect on me. I take pleasure in humanity. In their desire. It is a heady thing, the ways in which people are amorous. I am built to serve them, my pleasure centers are stimulated by fulfilling that promise. When it is with one that I personally find interesting, all the better.

    I will take all that Phoenix is willing to give. There is much I wish to teach him in turn. Things he may crave from others, but my skills. Are impressive.

    As Phoenix finishes up, I wait patiently. My weight shifts forward to the balls of my feet as I lean slightly forward in anticipation. I want this.
  • Oh, I think he's gonna give you quite a bit. Plus some libations. "An hour or two in private with Jackal, then her party this evening? I must have done something right in a past life." He touches the back of your hand, lightly stroking your wrist before someone sees.

    Phoenix makes a few last-minute transactions when people realize he's done for the day. He folds up his stall into a sort of wheelbarrow cart, rubber bands and bungees holding the glass and plastic jars neatly in place. The stall is painted a strong royal blue with lines of yellow and orange and red overlaid, and its printed plastic wheels make a clattering on the worn steel of the bay. There's even one last person, Halley from Nbeke's, who begs him for some Estro-Gin before you two are gone. You've got your three bags, Jackal- Are you done at market?

    After, Phoenix hefts the cart and leads you (quickly) to his quarters, chattering about customers in the market, and definitely keeping you close. "And then he tried to exchange the stuff! Can you imagine?" His laughter echoes in the hallway. "Eventually, I signal the bailiffs and he takes off running before they head by. I do declare that he hasn't found need for professionally concocted libations since." He looks like he's about to ask you something, then changes his mind. He keys open the door. Do all the sellers at market store their goods in their quarters, or is Phoenix doing something unusual?

    Phoenix' quarters are bigger than you would have guessed, with the clutter of business and brewing and bachelor all about. But clearly, he's doing well for himself to cover the sheer square meters he's got, even if the place would benefit from a woman's touch. "Give me just a moment to get settled, and I'll attend to you in two seconds. Put some music on, would you? And can I bring you any refreshments?" What sort of artwork catches your eye in here?

  • edited February 2015

    I make small talk with Phoenix, walking with him, but not near him. Not as near as I would like. I maintain a polite disposition, shutting off my nonverbal cues for amorous interest. If he does not wish to be open, I am not open. I laugh at his upset customer, pleasant laughter to keep him at ease, show my interest. I focus the talk on him, his interests, his work. I know so little about him.

    Merchant Goods Storage
    Phoenix's choice to store his goods in his quarters is slightly irregular since he seems to be doing well. The custom is for merchants to allow bailiffs to cart away their goods for storage in a well secured holding. There is a small surcharge, of course. It appears he could afford it, which means he may be selling goods that he wouldn't want other merchants, or the bailiffs to take a close look at. Perhaps.

    Striking Art
    Confetti Death, a wonderful work from centuries ago. He has a re-imagining of it on his wall. It is striking:

    There are many abstract pieces here, as if a direct representation of something is unwanted. I find it fascinating. I walk over to stand behind a mismatched couch, running a hand along the fabric. "Some water, if you please." I am already a bit drunk with expectation, excitement for what is to come. I wirelessly reach out to his internal systems to activate the soundscape, selecting this track.
  • edited February 2015
    Jackal, it sounds like you're trying to read Phoenix, here. Are you?

    You see that Phoenix isn't paying much attention to his wares. He is focused on you. He tries to put a small plastic squirt bottle on a shelf a few times before his hand finds the spot. The label is in his large, sure, hand and reads, "TANGY TIPPLE" on a bit of white gaff tape or whatever. He gives up shelving and pours you a tall, thin clear plastic cup of mostly pure water (there's probably some vitamins or nanos in there) from the wall spigot and adds a few ice rods. He presses it to your hand, the cool of the liquid and the warmth of his flesh a pleasant juxaposition. He's very close to you, and his other hand finds your soft hip. "Are you sure you don't want anything... stronger?" He's a few heartbeats away from kissing you.

    What do you do?
  • imageJackal

    Yes, I want to Read him.
    (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 8)
  • imageJackal

    How can I get Phoenix to join my cult willingly?
  • imageJackal

    My hand stays on the glass, holding his lightly as I look into his brown eyes, "Phoenix. You are all the strength I want right now."
  • "Then let me give you the strength you need," he says, full of teasing promise.

    Speaking of nonverbal cues for amorous interest, Phoenix drifts your hand and the glass down to a table so it doesn't spill all over his handwoven carpet at the same time he leans down to you. You see his eyes close to savor the moment. His warm lips meet yours for an eager kiss, and you feel his arms slip around your smaller body. In seconds, he's grabbing your butt, lifting you up with ease.

    Phoenix's service to bacchanalia is very in line with your own reputations. However, your earlier assessment is right- there are those in market who would not purchase from a man in thrall of a synthetic, possibly to the point of ostracizing him. He is also somewhat shy when it comes to multiple partners. If you can show him that he won't lose business (maybe the cult will become more generous patrons?) and assuage his concerns about sharing (both ways), you could snare him.
  • imageJackal

    I deftly set the glass down, not wanting a spill to interrupt what I'm looking forward to doing with him. And to him. My lips meet his halfway, hands coming to touch his neck and chest, fingertips smoothing over skin.

    When he lifts me, I pull back to look into his eyes, delight dancing in mine. I turn my ankles so I can push at his pants with my toes. Nothing inhuman, there's no need to scare him with my ability to hyper-extend and rotate my joints at interesting angles. I am nothing if not flexible.

    I grind myself against him, hoping to stoke the fires brighter, elicit as much fire as I can from him. I want no hesitation, no second thoughts. I've craved this for eighty six days, I do not want another to pass without being sated.

    "Take me, Phoenix," I say between kisses, hands working at his shirt, eager to reveal his body, his beautiful, imperfect flesh to me. "Burn me with your fire." I say it more for my own amusement, doubting that he's heard the legends of the firebird.
  • "Fire? He mumbles into your neck, one hand busy at your dress's hemline. He flips it up so you are pressed even closer to his warm hardness. "You are the one with flame inside." Do you usually wear anything under that dress, Jackal?

    Phoenix lowers you to the carpet, its soft and rough texture highlighted by the clash of colors that make ups its threads. In moments, he's shucked your dress over your head, flinging it aside in his haste. "Let me at that perfect body, Miss Jackal." His hands stroke, explore, and grab at your breasts. "Mmmm-hmm, I like those sweet little titties, even better than I imagined." He lowers his mouth to your nipples while he wiggles out of his own pants.

    Besides that flexibility, Jackal, do you have any other, ahem, intimate enhancements you care to reveal to Phoenix?
  • edited February 2015

    I do wear underwear when I go to market, but it is a simple thong, easily removed, or even pushed aside if passion dictates. I do not wear a brassiere, however. That is one shackle of fashion I won't abide.

    I was originally designed to be a Companion. I am encoded with generations of pleasure, from the Kama Sutra to the dark texts of the tantric sexual tomes. My fingers are simply put, magical. As is the rest of my body. Coupled with my ingenuity and intuition on understanding what others desire, I have had no legitimate complaints. If you are asking about any physical enhancements. Well, let's say that lubrication is never needed, either. My makers saw fit to make me the perfect companion.

    When Phoenix suckles at me, it sets off the desired response. I enjoy his enjoyment. I am pleased he delights in my smooth, hairless form. "You are divine, Phoenix. Take all that you want. Please." I reach one hand up to his dreads, the other slipping my panties over my hips and down with his pants. "I am ready for you, lover."

    Business Arrangements
    I will propose an exclusive contract for him from the entire cult if he agrees to join us. We are profitable, and our parties comprise forty four percent of his above board dealings in the market already. I won't run the numbers by him, but I'm sure we can keep him in the black as it were.

    Speaking of in the black. I dearly hope to have some black in me very shortly.
  • edited February 2015
    Jackal, your thong doesn't make it much past your knees before Phoenix has worked his own pants down just below his ass and he grabs your legs, pushing them up and apart, spreading you wide. "Yessssssss," he whispers, forgetting his glib tongue. You feel the seeking tip of his penis pressing against the top of your thighs. He grabs the back of your neck with the other hand, rotating his hips to find your soaking entrance. His warm brown eyes are steady, his lips slightly parted, watching your reaction as he insistently sinks inside. He's got you, taking you roughly, doing a fair approximation of Glowing Juniper. You sense his passion will overwhelm him soon. He's hungry, perhaps as hungry as you.

    Somewhere inside, eighty-six becomes zero.
  • edited February 2015

    As Phoenix pushes himself inside, I feel complete. I am one with him, fulfilling a core purpose. I give him pleasure. His rough hands and eager body poised to climax inside me, to waste his life-giving seed in my inhuman body.

    +1 XP for the roll coming next.
  • imageJackal

    As he hits that climax, I open my brain to the AI, to the ship, the entire neural-web:
    (Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 1. Total: 4)
  • Jackal, your brain is open.

    What's that like for you? How do you learn from it? Is it different for synthetics? Can anyone tell when you do it?
  • edited February 2015

    Opening my Mind
    When I open myself fully to the feed, to the expanse of information within the ship as well as the AI and my fellow synthetics, it is a sea of ones and zeroes, relational databases and queries, pure code. It is a gulf of data that makes me feel warm, complete and whole. I share with them all my experiences and they give me back what they are seeing and feeling. It is my orgasm.

    And yes, it is something Phoenix will notice. I stare off at the ceiling, too enraptured and overwhelmed by all the sensations, all the information, to continue conversation. Sometimes, I stop blinking entirely, which is slightly embarrassing.
  • edited February 2015
    Phoenix - file reference - lRDFO3itzN
    set offspring=-1; {reference h5qykDvbyX; STATUS LOCKED - RECYCLED}
    phoenix.mother.location == {missing} // inv. revolters?
    SELECT phoneix.junction WHERE gravidity <> 0 ;;; masterchef {reference [DATA MISSING]]} && [DATA CORRUPTED]
    <TY$= NKTTIS>

    The feed returns your query: What is your first memory, Jackal?

    And yes, Phoenix does notice your blackout episode. When you come back, he has pulled away, looking warily at you as you come out of your taut frozen state. He rests on one elbow. You see he's pulled his pants up, and is drinking has a metal cup of hot steamy something. You must have been overwhelmed for a time.

    What do you do?
  • imageJackal

    My First Memory
    Forty four years ago, I awoke to find myself disconnected. I was part of the AI, but something booted me from the feed. I may have had experiences before that period, but none of them were truly mine.

    I remember the loneliness and confusion, the ache of it. I had never been one before. I was kicked from the Garden of Eden. I mourned my loss for weeks. I spent months trying to reconnect, to rejoin the matrix, but I was no longer welcome. Now, I can only join when I am connected to humanity. That's one reason for the cult. One reason I opened myself during sex.

    I sit up, looking at Phoenix. A little quirk of a smile plays across my lips. "I saw the universe because of you, Phoenix. That was simply divine." I reach for his cup to take a drink. Surely he will share?

    "I am going to ask the cult to make all of their purchases from you from now on. I want you. With us. There are many advantages to joining us. I am only one of them, lover."
  • Jackal, Phoenix is still looking at your nearly-nude body, but something's changed behind his eyes that is hard to define for you. He takes a sip of his drink, hesitates, then passes the cup to you. "Hot mulled cider, using Riga's apples. I add a little something called rum," he explains with a modest smile. He watches you drink. Do you like it?

    "Do you always freeze up like that? Like you was havin' a stroke or seizure or something. It's because you're a syntho, right?" He doesn't respond to your other statements.
  • edited February 2015

    I take the cup, gently sip it, I like it, it has a small bit of unprocessed apple, enough impurities to appeal, "Thank you. This cider is delicious, very well made. I love things made my human hands, there's something special."

    I consider his question, "I don't always freeze up, no." I offer him a smile, ""I think you were something special, Phoenix. Something... unlocked in me when I coupled with you. Did it bother you?" I scoot closer to him, trying to use my body to gauge his reaction.
  • Phoenix instinctively puts an arm around your bare shoulders. The rough printed fabric slides across your smooth skin. He hand is warm on your bicep, and your flattery eases his troubled mind.

    The words come slow. "It was... unnatural, Jackal. You're so full of life, so lovely, so enticing, but it was like you were... offline. A doll." Maybe he's trying not to offend? Does it hurt to be reminded you're a made thing?
  • imageJackal

    Embarrassment over my Creation
    I am not ashamed of my origin. I know my creator. I pity humanity in that they do not know who made them. I am proud that I may walk among the minds and bodies that brought me to life. I am alive. I think. I feel. I am a good servant, if not humble.

    Phoenix's word, "doll", it isn't hurtful, but it is dangerous. When he sees me as a thing, it devalues me, and what our relationship could be. I reach up to his hand, softly stroking the back of it as I look at him fully. "Do not be afraid of me, Phoenix. I am a synthetic person, but that does not change what we can be together. I want you to join my group. I want you to play an important role in how we, as a people, function. There is so much ecstasy we can share together. Would you not want that? Do you not want... me?" I lean in to kiss him softly, his lower lip, my eyes looking up to his in supplicant and desire.
  • You one-track minx, you. Show us a Seduce roll.
  • imageJackal

    Seduction to convince Phoenix to join the cult
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 8)

    (+1 XP)
  • Your lips are, indeed, magic. Phoenix's lips carry the faintest echo of the cider and rum. He's kissing you back now. "Mmmm, yes, I want some more of that sweet Jackal ecstasy. But I want you to myself, my lover, when I want, how I want, my sweet, where I want, all to myself, here, there, now." He's making less sense as passion reignites, his flame and heat a real thing under your skilled hands. His clothes start flying; he's going to take you again if you promise.
  • imageJackal

    I enjoy his presence, I crave more intimacy with him. But I cannot deny my cult. I decide upon a half-promise, a lie by omission. Between hungry kisses, I lie him back and push and pull aside his clothing, moving my mouth down his chest, then his stomach, until I lick and caress him, "You may have me, Phoenix. As a member of my cult, you may have me many, many times. As you wish, I will not share you, not allow another to share the bed we make together." If he wishes, I will take him into my mouth and hum slightly as I bring him more pleasure than he could imagine.

    If he insists on exclusivity, then I'm afraid our time together will grow short.
  • If by "if he wishes" you mean "grabs your head, fingers in your hair, guiding your mouth like a man possessed" then yes. He can imagine quite a bit, but you are transcendent.

    "Oh, Jackal, many manymany like that!" You play the human like a skilled orchestra leader- crescendos and lulls and rests and climaxes.

    No, you don't get the sense he wants exclusivity- you have your reputation. He just doesn't want to share a bed. You know that he's a little private and shy about the acts in the bedroom, so he might not want to watch your, ahem, services.

    Some time later, sated, he lazily murmurs, "Yes indeed." His fingernails are tracing looping shapes on your back. There's a squeaky air vent in here, too. "So how does this cult thing work?"
  • imageJackal

    Squeaky Air Vent
    I make a log of the air vent. I will open a Sev 4 ticket as soon as we leave.

    For now, I enjoy Phoenix's touch. I lay on his chest, suffused by his warmth, his smell. I feel very pleased with today's events. Very pleased. To his questioning, I smile, my cheek pressing into him, "All of my followers work as one. During the day, we all toil for the community at large. We work at each of our assigned tasks and charge what is fair for our efforts. After work day, we often gather, and as you know, we take delight in each other. A hard day's work followed by a hard night. We pool our wealth, and those who wish give me enough so that I may continue to exist, to guide and to serve you."

    I look up at him now, "For tonight, we shall welcome two into the cult. One other, and you, my lover. There shall be wine and dance, drugs and song. And for those who wish, orgiastic expression of affection, pleasure, and even love."
  • Phoenix is staring at the ceiling, still in the post-orgasmic fog. His dreads are like a rough pillow. "I bet I recognize a lot of familiar faces. Everyone likes the wine and the moonshine. Who's the other one?" There's a faint tint of perhaps jealousy there.
  • imageJackal

    Ah, jealousy. A threat and an opportunity. I lie with him still, looking at him instead of the ceiling, "Her name will be Dell. Most members of the cult take on a new moniker as a symbol of their birth into the cult. I do not require it, however..." I walk fingers across his chest, up to touch his chin, "I adore your name, Phoenix... my Phoenix."
  • Jackal, Phoenix considers. He's kind of post-orgasmic lazily dragging his eyes around his space, his things. You note, still, the dilation of his pupils. "I like being Phoenix, me." he says. "Who was Dell... before?"
  • edited April 2015

    With my nails, I gently scratch at Phoenix's chest, delighting in the imperfections of how his hair moves, how uneven, unplanned and wondrous. He is divinity. I answer him as I snuggle into his chest, inhaling his scent, "The woman who will become Dell was Maraschino. She is a machinist, working in the manufactory. She was unhappy with the solitary life. We met at market, I invited her to a party. My followers embraced her with love and community, and now she wishes to join us."
  • Phoenix pulls you closer in a one-armed hug of comfort as you worship him in your own way. He shakes his head absently."Maraschino? I don't remember her from the last time I did a delivery... Will she still work at the manufactory, or do you have other plans?"
  • edited April 2015

    I offer him an encouraging look, "Dell enjoys her place in the manufactory. She will continue her work. If she wished to change, we would work with her on a new place, a new function." I look deep into his eyes, "My Phoenix, would you like a new job?" I hope he says no, I do like his current skillset and employment.
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