[Junk XIII] For Your Hospitality (J 6-3)

Rich

Jack,

Apple brought you some of the root a little while ago, snuck it to you as you waited for Bluebury and Sweet T to arrive. How does it taste? Have you had it often before? It has taken effect, and the pain has subsided. In fact, you feel rather good, buzzing a little on the euphoric state that the root gives. This is one of the secrets of the Wendys, why they don't show fear or surrender. They go into battle high as a kite on a combination of adrenalin and pain suppression.

The Big Room is ready for you. Grimace performed all the rituals for a bedding. He opens up the double doors to the biggest trailer in the tribe, dedicated for breeding and birthing, children are sacred events here. Bluebury and Sweet T are walking up. There's a tension in both of them, you sense it quicker than the other members of the tribe. Sweet T seems angry, possibly from embarrassment since you are breeding his mate. Bluebury seems downright scared. Maybe Sweet T told her stories about you?

Parfait is here, she seems practically giddy. She's wearing a light robe made of terrycloth, like a hotel robe, even has fancy letters scrawled on the front. She's barefoot. Some of the Wendys have pulled their bikes around, and are shining headlights towards the windows of the Big Room. A few rev their bikes in anticipation, others are drinking grain alcohol and talking, laughing. It's a frakkin party, Jack. All for you getting laid.

Oh, does this tribe have a name, Jack? Or are they just "known"?

Bluebury is approaching you now. She's wearing a black dress, a sleeveless one piece that comes to her knees. You see bruises on her left arm, by the way. From her state, you're rather sure she didn't take the root, or it wasn't offered to her.

What do you do?

Adam

Would you believe I've only had the root once before? Growing up, Sweet T stole a rather healthy dose of the roots, and got so completely destroyed by their effect he couldn't be bothered to finish them – or do much of anything else, really. It was his wording that tempted me, "Ssh – it's so quiet."

How could I resist? Another of my failed experiments as a boy.

Normally this kind of reception would instil a bit of stage fright in me – but I must say, this root does a fantastic job of silencing one's inhibitions! I can see why the raiders of the camp prefer it to liquor. I could never stomach the taste though... It tastes like mud.

The Wendy tribes have no name. Most of them, as I've said, are too insular to name the group as a whole. You are either a Wendy, or somewhat ironically, one of "them". I suppose that makes me something in between.

I wait calmly as Sweet T walks up with Bluebury and I stand to greet them. I look to Sweet T, trying my best to show a mixture of deference and dignity, and step aside to offer Bluebury the bed... The bruises on her arms, should not surprise me – but it takes significant effort for me to not say anything. It is not my place... Sadly.

I look to Bluebury, "do not be surprised if you are tempted to speak secrets my dear – and do not resist the urge to speak if you must... It may spare you the pain you fear."

Rich

Sweet T says loudly, "Frak her well, little brother! Send your seed deep in her belly and give us little demons to raise!" He laughs to the crowd and they cheer, raising bottles and revving engines. But when he looks back at you, you see the jealousy and the hurt, the pain of having to publicly acknowledge that he cannot breed. But on the outside, he smiles and celebrates it.

Bluebury stumbles slightly up the steps, and walks like a marionette on strings into the room. She doesn't meet your eyes as she passes, then climbs onto the bed, rolling onto her back. When you address her about the secrets, she looks up at you, nods.

Outside, the Wendys begin chanting, your name, her name, calls to forgotten gods of broken and lost temples. Bluebury finds her courage, bit by bit, and nods again. She looks at you, holds your gaze for a moment, then says, "I'm... I'm not afraid." She raises her voice, "I'm going to birth some demons!" She nods a couple more times, as much for herself as for you, and reaches down to the hem of her dress to start hiking it up.

What do you do?

Adam

I will not insult my brother, or Bluebury, by trying to upstage anyone, or stretching this out — that isn't the point of me being here, after all... I will admit though: this nonsense about birthing demons is a bit of a turn off. I try and let the hype of the moment wash over me, and I get down to work.

I direct her gaze over my shoulder to my brother standing behind me... I won't be looking at her anyhow — it's probably best my mind's allowed to wander onto more pleasant faces than one covered in that horrid paint...

Adam

OOC: Special time moves ahoy! Roll+Weird. +1XP.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 10)

OOC: Rolling on Bluebury's behalf for the custom move. +1Hx with Bluebury. Roll+Hx.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 5, 5. Total: 11)

Rich

You, well, "mount her", because really, it is an animalistic thing you're doing, isn't it? Bluebury isn't an enthusiastic partner, there are no kisses, or embraces. She doesn't cry, or whimper, she's more still than anything. But she does her duty, and so do you.

As you near climax, she suddenly becomes more active. She reaches up hands to your cheeks, then runs fingers through your hair and pulls your head down towards her. She arches up, putting her head by your mouth to whisper fiercely, "I killed Frostys baby, Jack. Nobody else knows, just me and Frosty. I drowned it in the pond and she couldn't stop me. She bragged about having a baby when I didn't, so I beat her and I took it from her. And now, you're gonna give me one."

She rubs her legs against you as you take that in, and starts rubbing herself against you, grunting with effort, urging you to finish, "Give me those little demons, Jack. I will love them and make them strong, they wil take over the tribe, with their daddy and me watching them. Give it, Jack. Your momma wants it. We all need it."

And then, you finish. She whoops with excitement, and the Wendys around catcall and yell, horns are beeped and engines revved. A few gunshots ring out, too, a sure sign of exaltation because bullets are precious.

She waits just long enough to be sure you're done, then she pushes you off of her and raises her knees to her still-covered chest.

What do you do?

Adam

A voice in the back of my head is screaming at me to pull out and leave her here, or choke the life out of her... She killed another woman's child?! A baby no less! What in the name of all that is holy am I doing? I can't think clearly... This root dulls the senses, and I cannot resist her calls — that deepest part of me that wants to give people their innermost desires...

Just before climax, I hear myself whisper back in response, "if they are anything like their real father, then they will know what you've done — and they will be wicked to you. I would repent, if I were you my dear — their father can be vengeful."

I am all too eager to climb off her, and turn away from her in complete disgust. I look to Sweet T, and direct him over to her. I want her gone from my sight. Knowing my luck, I doubt that taking Parfait will be necessary — but now I hunger for the mind of someone less cruel. Where is she?

Rich

Those words chill Bluebury, and her cocky smile fades. She raises a hand when the tribe calls to hr, but Sweet T senses someting odd happened between you, and he pulls her away.

Parfait steps into the Big Room as soon as Sweet T pulls Bluebury out. She drops her robe, and well, the girl has some wicked ink under her right breast that reminds you of a monster you both talked about as kids. She skips up to you and goes straight in for a kiss, urging you back onto the bed, aggressively trying to push you back to lie down, "Jack, I don't mind being your second choice, lover. I'm just gonna make you wish I was your next choice, too!"

What do you do?

Adam

Points for being eager, I suppose... I need a moment to collect my thoughts — among other things — so I take my time letting her work for a bit. That tattoo... Has she held on to our childhood this long? I look up to her as she speaks, and eye her wig a moment... She is quite beautiful under all that paint — that I know — her long, flowing black hair was always a sight to see. The wig does not do her justice. I reach up, and my hand hovers over it. "May I, my dear? I'd sooner lie with the woman I remember."

Rich

She nods her assent and you remove her wig. She pushes you back onto the bed, and reaches up to unfasten her hair. It cascades down, some flowing over her shoulders. She smiles, "You can lie all you want, but I'll make sure you remember, Jack." She climbs on top of you and like a hungry little puppy, she nibbles and licks your neck and ears. With her teeth slightly pointed, you'd expect it to hurt, but it's actually... well, interesting.

She starts kissing her way down your body, which might be good, could be, less than good. She looks up at you and says, "I've missed you." She smiles, waiting for your eyes on her, then returns to her work.

What do you do?

Adam

That's much better... I'd feared she would have shaved it off, or some other horrible thing.

I wish I could say I've thought about her significantly, but the truth is I've been preoccupied with the sights and sounds of the world outside of this little camp. That's not to say I'm not interested in seeing her now — though the euphoria induced by the root may be partly responsible for that. I look down on her, and smile back, "Yes, well... What is that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder..."

I let her do her piece for a bit; but she's occasionally careless with those teeth, and eventually it's becoming a hindrance. I lift her head up, and summon her onto me. "Show me how much you've missed me, then, and don't resist the urge to speak — should it come to you."

Adam

OOC: Sexyfuntime move. Roll+Weird. +1XP.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 3, 3. Total: 9)

OOC: Sexyfuntime custom move. +1Hx with Parfait. Roll+Hx.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 2, 6. Total: 9)

Rich

Without further ado, Parfait climbs up and slides down onto you, riding with energy and abandon, calling to old gods and bending down to kiss you with passion. Yes, she's being showy for the hooting crowd, but there's a deeper yearning in her. She may have been hot and cold, but right now, she is hot for you.

Her hair hanging down over her face, she moves her head so there's a moment where she is on top of you, her face hovering above you, fistfuls of the blanket in her hands, and there's almost a clear path for you to look up at her, both of your faces hidden away in the mass of her black tresses. She smiles at you, a genuine appreciative one, and she says, "When you left me, Jack, I was so alone. Don't leave me this time. Take me into the wide world you told me about when we were kids. I will do whatever you want, just don't leave me here alone again. I'm loving you, Jack."

The the climax builds, for both of you, and she jerks back, throwing her hair and calling out in a guttural nonsense. The tribe yawps and more gunshots than before ring out, and either she's a good actress, or you both found some pleasure in that.

Even though it was the second time, and rushed, it did feel good, didn't it, Jack?

She stays there, on top of you, even when you're finished, just hunched slightly over, refusing to roll off of you without being asked, laughing quiet little exasperated laughs of spent desire.

Parfait's child will be born strange, sickly or marked.

What do you do?

Adam

These confessions — they take their toll on you. I was concentrating on the rhythm of her movements, and the slow-building sensation in an attempt to stay in the moment — but I simply don't know how to process all this. Damn this root! I feel myself looking into her eyes, trying to understand her request to come with me... I get lost there.

The climax was intense. More intense than I'm used to... Perhaps because I wasn't trying to focus on controlling myself, or fighting the urge to run from the room in disgust at the acts of my partner... Is this what I should expect from intimacy? I'm astounded.

We lay there a moment, catching our breath, and I don't know what to say... I fall into old habits again. "Take the night to consider it, my dear... The world is a cruel place to people like us, and they will not accept you if you wear the paint... This is not a decision to be made lightly."

Rich

Parfait reaches out to touch your cheek, "Apple thinks the road sent you here to give us children, Jack. I say it brought you here for me. I don't need a night to consider, I've had years. Let me stay with you tonight, and leave with you. I can take off the paint, if that's what you want." She bends forward to kiss your shoulder, then looks up at you with that disturbing intensity.

What do you do?

Adam

I crane my neck up to look at her, searching her eyes... How can she be so sure of something? To spend years away from me, as my mother has, in love with an ideal... And abandoning her life as she knows it, and treading into the unforgiving world as an outsider — a former "monster" — even with my limited fortitude, and strong knowledge of self, I bent so easily to their judgement... Can she really want this?

I am still tender from Aquafina's rejection. Perhaps I am simply desperate for companionship... "It is not a question of what I want, my dear — you would be branded a monster for showing the paint to those unlike us... I could not bear to see you come to harm chasing me into the wilds of the world. I will stay here a week or so. The road brought me back here, but I am not without my own scars from my travels... You may stay with me if you wish, while I heal, and if you are still determined to come with me when I am well enough to depart — then I will do my best to help you prepare."

Rich

Parfait nods seriously, accepting the terms. Around you, the Wendys are starting to wander off, the excitement of frakking now gone, the sight of intimacy is less appealing. Or perhaps, less fun to watch and not participate in.

"You're hurt, Jack. I heard you were in a wreck. She reaches a hand to almost touch that sore rib, "This one is hurt bad, if not broken. Lots of cuts and bruises, too. Let me get some bandages, some poultices, too. Infection can be a bitch, and I won't let it take you away. Stay here, alright?" She bends down to kiss your hand, and sits up, rising to fetch her robe and leave you in the Big Room.

What do you do?

Adam

The voice in the back of my head is there again, nagging at me to run now and save her the heartache of discovering the world is not the magnificent place my childhood musings thought it to be... That it is not something we can participate in — we can merely observe it from a distance — but I am tired, and the root is beginning to wane...

I cover my eyes a moment, lying there on the bed. I should get dressed...

Rich

You wake some time later. It's dark and there's a cover over you. Someone is lying on you, a female someone. It's quiet here, more quiet than the towns, much more quiet than sleeping in moving trucks or cars.

Outside there is the sounds of the camp's fire, the occasional wind pushing along pieces of scrub, and some light conversation of warriors on watch, vigilant for trouble.

And the weird thing is, Jack. A part of you feels safe.

The root has worn off, and your rib is aching. But there's something stiff around your knee. Some kind of bandage maybe? Same for your knuckles, and some odd paste on them too, it seems.

What do you do?

Adam

It is such an odd sensation to be here... The voices that usually flood my head are hushed, as if to give me a brief reprieve. I'm confused... Why is my leg stiff? I look down, and spot the bandages and salve. Who is it lying on top of me? Is it Parfait?

Rich

That's the thing about being out here, Jack. When it's night, it is night. You had such a brief encounter with her, how could you really tell in pitch black? Her hair is long, her body is nice and shapely. But sight won't confirm it for you right now.

You could rouse her, maybe talk to her softly. Or slip out and get a light, to know for sure.

What do you do?

Adam

Well, I don't feel particularly threatened at the moment... I reach down to the figure on top of me, and gently grip her shoulder. I whisper softly to her, "my dear... You're lying on my rib..."

Rich

She murmurs lightly, "Mmn? Muh... sorry," and rolls back off of you, resting on her back. It's Parfait. You're not sure if she really registered that fully, but you're free. Oh, you're still nude. She dried you off, though, so there's that. Maybe cleaned you? Hard to tell, but uhm, you're not "sticky".

What do you do?

Adam

I sit up slowly and look around the room to get my bearings. I sit there a long while, like I did as a boy all those years ago, and consider running. I think better of it this time though... I look to the shadowy figure on the bed next to me — Parfait — and I wonder what's on her mind... She can't be serious about joining me, can she? Can she really want that? Is she truly prepared for such a drastic change in lifestyle?

Sometimes the voices offer me insights into such matters — and when I am so inclined, I listen.

Adam

OOC: Opening my brain to the psychic maelstrom. Roll+Weird. +1XP.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 5, 6. Total: 14)

Rich

So Jack, tell me, what's it like for you when you open your brain to the psychic maelstrom?

Adam

It's really not much different from the way I normally perceive the world... There are voices that speak from the minds of the people around me; but there are other voices too, whispers on the wind that I can just barely make out. Some voices are familiar — people I've met — others not so much. Sometimes I see the shadows of people long gone who linger here in memory and in spirit...

Rich

In dark of night, it's hard to tell at first if Parfait simply woke and started talking, or if you're hearing her thoughts leaking out of her dreaming soul. "Jack," she says in a soft, lilting tone, "Jack, I say I love you. But really, I love the idea of you. I don't know the real you, but I want to. You escaped this place, these people. I was afraid to go off alone. I have no idea what's in the wide world, but I have told myself your stories so many times, and I've watched the people of Salt at night, from far away. Like you did."

The angle of her voice changes, and you didn't feel the bed move. It must but her mind, not her mouth. "Jack," she continues, a bit tenuous this time, "I don't know what they are like, but I want to live a different life. I'm not meant for here, like you. I will trust you to show me how they live. I crave it. To know, to really know if I am meant to be one of them. I was born there. I never told you, but they killed my parents and took me. That's why I want to know."

A different voice sings through the wind, deep and tinged with weariness. It is not that unlike your own, at your lowest times. "Boy, leave her here. She is mind-sick, her emotions overpower her self. She swings from the highest elation to the lowest sadness without rhyme or reason. She will slow you down.

"What's more - she carries your child. A fair trade. Leave her here and then your escape is paid for. But leave with her, steal her away, and you will be hunted. Think hard on that, boy. Unwanted and feared by them, hunted by us. Is that worth it for you? Are you prepared for such a drastic change in your lifestyle? To drag along an ignorant, mind-sick, pregnant savage into your pretty towns and pretty lies?"

The harsh voice ebbs, and your mother's voice comes to you, "Be only as you are, my son. I will not hunt you. Others may, but I will stop those I can. You are my child, my son. Go where the road takes you."

So Jack... all these voices talking to you, and now, they, maybe all of them, maybe a couple, or perhaps just one, they want to know:

Do you want to be loved:

• by someone who sees you as being a brainer who is the son of a Wendy

or

• by someone who sees you as the wayfaring man who wants to be judged by sum of his actions, rather than his past.

Adam

Well there's no question... I am the son of a Wendy, and happen to be ... blessed with particular gifts — but I would never wish to be judged, or loved for that. I am so much more than that. It breaks my heart that Aquafina could not see past that.

If what Parfait says is true, then we are something of a kindred spirit. It is a pity I did not see this before she took to the paint... I might have saved her from this life. If she is capable of accepting me for who I am, and loving me for the man I am striving to be, then the course is clear: I'll take her to the ends of the earth if I must...

There is an old expression: a fox is found chasing a rabbit through the woods, it is asked who will win — the answer is the rabbit; for the fox is running for his food, but the rabbit is running for his life.

Rich

--END SCENE--