EVENT #2: HEARTS LIKE YOURS (ACHAMOTH)

[aionmods]

Achamoth

A DEITY'S WELCOME

After only a day or two on the river, the newly christened Kenoma will arrive in the city of Achamoth. The architecture is the more striking things about it, as if its skyline has been built up and constantly improved over many centuries. It's clear from even the riverside view that there is an artistic tendency towards building humanoid shapes into the supports and detailing of structures here, creating the strange effect of placing hundreds of silhouettes in your peripheral vision. If you ask the sailors why its like that, they will simply say it's the way its always been. Any metaphorical seed was planted long before anyone here was born.

The Citadel can be seen even from the entrance of the city, a towering spiral that looms over the rest of the land around it, lit from within by various magical energies. That's your destination, you are told. Soon, you will be passed into the care of the Citadel's staff, and will be sure to meet with city's elites not long after.

They aren't wrong. When you show up at the port closest to the Citadel, the street are always lined with people waiting to greet you. It's easy to recognize now how diverse the population of Horos can be, with many of those waiting showing off unusual heights, colors, and appendages, though appearances that are typically 'human' are still the most common. Most of them wear dark outfits with a gothic flare, with mask-like facial adornments apparently being fashionable. They cheer and chant as you come down from the boat, tossing flower petals and small gemstones onto the path you walk upon. This continues all the way to the Citadel.

Once you are inside, up winding paths of stairs, you will be shown to your new quarters to rest. You're each assigned a lavish bedroom with servants stopping by ever so often, offering to bring you food, clothing, or other items of comfort. There are a variety of soaps in your room's private bath. You are told that if you take a liking to any individual servant that you may claim them as your permanent retainer, though you are not required to. Their dispositions range from euphoric to be serving you to quiet and shy, but there is a notable lack of resentment.

After about a day of rest, you will be brought an official invitation by one of the servants. Apparently, the Regent has requested your presence for supper that evening. It is not optional.

THE FEAST

A few hours before suppertime, one of the servants will arrive to take you 'clothes shopping' for something appropriately formal to wears for your meeting with the Regent. In practice, this means taking you to one of several changing rooms filled with costly formal wear. The styles and sizes are diverse, which makes sense when you are informed that they are a collection of offerings from local weavers and seamstresses, some of which have been waiting for an owner for quite some time. From an Earthly point of view, there is a wide spectrum of cultural aesthetics, though most of them lean towards the same dark colors and gothic sensibilities that you saw the citizens of Achamoth wearing. Headpieces and artistic masks are plentiful, but not mandatory though the servant will tell you they are in vogue. A servant will be able to make alterations to your clothing with magic to achieve a proper fit.

After that, you have a couple more hours to prepare before you are invited to a lounge-like area for pre-meal drinks. You can get almost any kind of cocktail you can imagine, including some you can't, and will be allowed to chat each other up for about an hour before the feast begins. Some small appetizers are available, and soft, rhythmic music plays in the background. If you look for her, Xishen is present as well, dressed in a black evening gown with golden accents that flicker like stars in the night sky, her long hair pinned up into a messy bun and decorated with hair-sticks. As usual, she seems to be avoiding company for the moment, though she is keeping an eye on everyone. Perhaps she's counting heads to make sure there are no stragglers.

When the time arrives, two huge doors are opened, leading you into a room that looks like a mixture of a dining room and a cathedral. Ahead of you, three long takes are connected together in the shape of a triangle, with a large throne positioned at the point furthest into the room; it is presently empty. You'll be instructed to take a seat, basking in the multicolored flames of the candles and torches lighting the room. As you find your places, all seats will be filled except for the throne up front, with Xishen at its side. All you can do now is await your host.

[Mealtime interactions with the Regent can be threaded here. They will arrive right after the first course has been served.]

EXPLORATION

Having survived supper with the Regent, the next few weeks are essentially yours to plan. Though the Regent indicates that there is work for you to do on the Horizon, for now your orders are to simply rest and prepare. You'll have access to the Citadel's armory to acquire any basic armor or weaponry you could need; though none of what's on offer seems to be enchanted, it is undoubtedly the work of a master. Clothing is much the same as it was for the formal wear you picked out, though you will find there are more practical offerings available as well. If you don't find anything to your tastes, you are also welcome to go out on the town with a generous allowance from the Regent's own coffers.

Clothing isn't the only thing you can get out in the city, though. While there are material goods of many kinds available, the most tempting thing for many residents is the raw hedonism of the city's entertainment district. It has just about anything you could imagine, from day spas to gambling to brothels, and none of it is contained by the burden of law. Any Achamite entertainment seen as too intense to face daylight would certainly not be for the faint of heart.

The locals haven't had enough time to recognize the city's new Aions on sight, but if they see your shard or or any other sign of your status, you are bound to attract a lot of attention. You're a celebrity in these streets, and while it can get you plenty of favors or even unsolicited offerings, it can also be quite overwhelming. In many cases, Achamite's religious fervor exceeds their survival instinct, at least in terms of the ones most likely to bother you. They will back off if threatened by you, but they will take politeness as an invitation to continue.

When leaving the Citadel, a servant will usually try to accompany you, though they will stay behind if you order them to do so. They insist that it will be easier for you to get around with a dedicated guide, but in the end you're the one in charge.

QUESTIONS

How does my character picking a retainer work?
All Kenoma are offered the opportunity to take on an NPC retainer after arriving at the Citadel. This retainer will be an NPC created and played by you. They will be available day and night to attend to your character's needs. These servants understand the Regent largely from a religious perspective and will not have any outspoken anti-Regent sentiments, though they may or may not be nervous about their new master. Generally speaking, though, this is in a new job jitters sort of way, as working in the Citadel is considered to be a job of great cultural and religious significance. They want to do a good job! You are free to develop your retainer's personality and relationship with your character. If your character (or you) are not interested in having a personal retainer, they will instead be served by a rotation of unattached servants.

How much money are Kenomas given for shopping?
They will be given an emerald's worth in jools, which is 1000 units. This is about how much a minimum wage worker makes in two months. They will continue receiving spending money on a monthly basis, though the Citadel itself will take care of all of their needs. On an OOC level its safe to say that average city expenditures will be covered by the money they are given, though they are welcome to invest that money in making more money if they have to skills to do so.

What sorts of things are there in the entertainment district? Is anything illegal?
Almost everything is legal in Achamoth when it comes to entertainment, and there is not much government oversight in the way anything is run. This means that most 'entertainment' you can imagine is both present and largely unregulated, and it doesn't need to be underground on account of how permissive Achamite law is. Brothels, drugs, and even bloodsport are all fair game... technically, participants in brothels and bloodsports must be willing but that 'consent' can be pretty nebulous. 'Extreme' bloodsport is generally hush hush (those that are particularly graphic and unpleasant, or basically torture) and behind closed doors mostly just to avoid causing a fuss.

The one thing there is official rulings on, straight from the Regent, is the enforcement of 'age of consent' and laws against child abuse. Children are generally not allowed to participate in those skeevier activities and there is a cultural expectation for people to raise their children properly, though this still goes wrong fairly frequently. It's just one of the things that is actually punished. Adults, however, have fewer innate protections.

Comments

[affal]

( it's just an easy-to-use excuse to produce when offered, one slightly less likely to come off as rude as a flat denial might — it's not as though anything so paltry as what is perceived as legally or morally "correct" would stop him in anything that he either wanted or felt was necessary. it's far more that he's very rarely in a situation in which he would feel dulling his thoughts or his senses as acceptable; after all, his mind was the only real weapon he had available to him at all times. where he can understand that some might use the effects of alcohol to sand away the sharper edges of nerves before such a monumental moment in their time here as Aions, he simply would not accept being anything but fully cognizant and aware moving forward.

in addition to that, it's all the more better to be clear-eyed when confronted once more with his good friend and peer, minegishi-kun. it seems his perspective on how to prepare for what lay imminently in their future was quite the opposite from makoto's own, surprising neither him nor anyone else.

he laughs, shaking his head. ) One would scarcely need to ask — the state of you begs it loudly enough.

( with all the ease and dignity of a beast forced into a finely-starched suit. which is a shame, because the tailors did an admirable job in the adjustments, but they can't be faulted that gen has no proper idea in how to wear it, having already creased, rumpled, and undone so much of that hard work, let alone present himself appropriately. were he a very different sort of person, perhaps he might have words to fall back upon just as readily as the static mental buzz of alcohol, hand-me-down advice that datenshou had given him years ago when he had been fumbling his way through learning the ropes at both his job and navigating the higher rungs of demon society.

but no, as it is, he is quite happy watching gen squirm. such a full reversal of their first few meetings... at long last.

the needling at the crux of their previous encounter might have rankled more if makoto hadn't already thoroughly convinced himself that he'd somehow outwitted all of this. the kinds of mental gymnastics he'd had to go through as the Kenoma had finally melded itself into the cracks and gaps in his soul... )

And clearly I made the right choice! I'm not so deluded to think that I could fight against resources like these. ( just deluded in other ways... ) Really, I might have come to that conclusion a full day or two earlier, had I not had to withstand your piss-poor attempts at changing my mind.

[epiprocta]

[ Gen just stares silently at Makoto for a moment in response. A long enough moment that Makoto might actually think that he's managed to strike a nerve.

Then Gen gives a bark of laughter. Not too loud, not too raucous; as crass as he is, he's too shrewd to call too much attention to himself in a place like this, and it's nothing disruptive enough to draw the attention of any passing servers. But it's definitely enough to make a point, and the sound of it is grating and unpleasant. Mocking, derisive. Like Makoto's told a joke that's so unfunny it loops all the way around to being funny again.

That's all the warning Makoto gets before Gen's hand suddenly shoots forth. With how different their heights and builds are, it takes Gen virtually no effort to wrap arm around the back of Makoto's neck and yank him forth in a mocking simulacrum of affability, pulling him close enough that Makoto might be able to smell the alcohol on his breath when Gen drones, ]

Getting real full of yourself, aren't you. Just 'cause you're used to dressing up and prancing around like a fancy little doll.

[ After all, it doesn't take more than a glance to guess that Makoto's far more used to this sort of atmosphere, and that fact rankles at him. It's so much easier for Gen to forget the discomforting atmosphere of this place, the subtle pressure in the air bearing down on him, if he can instead focus on the singular goal of causing Makoto as much displeasure as possible.

And though Makoto might have noted Gen's notable displeasure at being touched with any semblance of affection, he clearly doesn't mind as long as he's the one initiating it. His hand creeps up to scuff fingers through Makoto's perfectly-coiffed hair. Not too rough, and not painfully at all, but just crudely enough to knock some strands out of place. ]

You thought I was trying to change your mind back there? [ Another low laugh before he leans in closer, until they're almost brow to brow. ] Why would I waste that much effort on you? Told you from the very beginning, didn't I. I was just there 'cause I was bored and curious. [ Then his arm squeezes a little tighter around the back of Makoto's neck. Not hard enough to choke, but enough to be discomforting, enough that Gen can feel the edges of Makoto's shard digging into his arm. He ignores it, instead canting his head to look Makoto more closely in the eye as he drawls, ] Whatever stupid decisions you made were your own. Don't try to lay the blame on me, you little rat.

[affal]

( oh, my sweet minegishi-kun, he already knows where your nerves are. that being the case, he doesn't really have any reason to continue to mine for them. should he strike one on accident, it would be a happy one, but as it is... makoto is far too keen and practiced a player in games of social misguidance and maneuvering for him to be mislead by the ruse of a few moments' worth of silence.

being two for two in their past encounters, he was already prepared for this one to toe the line into "physical altercation," and really, at this point, he should start setting timers to see how quickly it would happen. this already has to be a new record, right? the demon's expression creases with irritation as gen's arm drapes heavily across the line of his narrow shoulders, very nearly pulling him off of his feet as he draws him in to a harsh caricature of fraternal amiability. his jaw sets with a grinding of his teeth, a sound of exertion catching in the back of his throat as he withstands the sudden, increased pressure. the proximity sends a shudder of revulsion down his spine. just as gen didn't shy back from contact he himself initiates, makoto is finding it more difficult to stomach the same when he's at the receiving end of it. typically it would take quite a lot to faze him, let alone sour him, but... well, because of the circumstances of who he is, where he's from, and the similar backgrounds they share, anything and everything gen says or does always seems to strike a little bit closer to home, as abrasively irritating as that is.

as might be familiar by this point, he goes passive in gen's posturing, pale face and unnatural eyes resolving themselves into a mask kept carefully blank even as he musses the careful arrangement of his hair and as the arm yoked around his neck tightens its grasp, the weight placed over his shoulders increasing. for a moment he entertains himself with thoughts of tearing at the other young man's throat, of cracking open his ribs and painting himself up to the elbow in his blood — but just for a moment, as he can't allow himself to get too distracted, either in the haze of alcohol or in a miniature mental tableau of revenge. )

Duly noted, ( he voices the words coolly and smoothly into the precious little space between them, doing what he can to distract gen with a verbal riposte so he is less likely to catch on to the odd rustle of movement behind them. ) I'll do better than to expect you to do what is asked of you in the future.

And besides. ( a weight falls onto gen's opposite shoulder, not the appropriate shape to be another hand. instead, it's the finger joint of a draconic wing that has extended from beneath the carefully-tailored hems of makoto's ensemble, wrapping itself around gen's back in a leathery mockery of the way he draped his arm across the shorter demon's shoulders now. it's not so dexterous that he can grasp him with it, but he can curl the wicked curve of the talon inwards until it begins to pierce through the cloth over gen's shoulder, just shy of breaking skin.

again, another errant and intrusive thought of digging that claw in and slicing him from shoulder to hip. a lovely thought, and one he enjoys for just a second before discarding it. maybe one day, but not before they make a united front before the new boss. )

It's a "stupid decision" we now share, Minegishi, so you're right at least in part. Really, at this point what would be the use in blame?

[epiprocta]

[ He has to give Makoto grudging credit for that tactic -- the quip definitely draws his attention, enough that the touch of something foreign and sharp sliding past the fibers of his clothes to scrape against his skin earns a flinch. And while he naturally ends up gripping his arm tighter around the back of Makoto's neck in reflex, maybe for Makoto that brief spike of discomfort is worth getting to see the way Gen's expression hardens with a flash of uncertainty. The sort of trepidation that must be expected from any human struggling to parse what they're seeing and being reminded of the fact that the one they're speaking to is not human.

Even if Gen's quick to stamp down his surprise and return his expression to its facade of casual apathy, that slip had been there. He knows it, and he knows Makoto knows it. Probably why he gives Makoto a small jostle afterwards, as if to try and restablish control over the situation. ]

... yeah, guess we're technically supposed to be buddies now, huh.

[ Where Makoto's words are all finesse, as cold and well-honed as the edge of a knife, Gen's shallow pretense at camaraderie is more akin to the abrasive grit of sandpaper. The mannerisms of someone terribly accustomed to being in control, used to being feared. He puts little effort into masking the hostility that bubbles away beneath the surface, because why waste that energy when most would know better than to risk contact with him at all?

It says something, doesn't it. The fact that he can't bring himself to drop these bad habits even in this place where he knows he's been near-defanged.

At least he can back up that arrogant bluster with an ability to bluff, and it certainly seems casual enough when he grabs that talon off his shoulder with his free hand. Yanks it forth, intending to stretch Makoto's wing out uncomfortably across his back and over his shoulder so he can pull that wingtip before his eyes to study it. Gen hums as he idly rubs his thumb against the curve of the large talon, feels the rough texture of scales beneath his fingers, studies the way light reflects off cold skin. -- he tends to forget it whenever he looks at Makoto's face, too reminded of the types of pathetic students he'd bullied back in his hometown, but this guy really is something other than human, isn't he?

What a freak. ]

Suppose I can play nice with you once in a while for the cause and all. [ No, he can't. ] Though I dunno if I trust you can do the same -- aren't demons said to do things only because they get paid for it? Are you really like that?

[ Said without looking down at Makoto's face, still observing the way the skin across Makoto's wing stretches and warps as he twist the talon tip around one way, then the other, testing its weight and flexibility. Purely out of curiosity, this time, though it'd be a nice bonus if it causes Makoto just a little discomfort. ]

[affal]

( a reptilian smile spreads across makoto's face at that flinch; he appreciates this moment, regardless of how small and inconsequential it is, because every moment in which he can orchestrate a reversal of expectation is both valuable and incredibly enjoyable. it is, of course, sharply contested by how oppressive gen makes himself, yoked as he is around his neck, but he manages to shoulder it both literally and metaphorically. the smile slips from his face as gen rattles him after he managed to regain his composure, and he resists the impulse to tighten his grasp on that shoulder, to draw just a little blood to make him realize that he should start to be more cautious in their interactions...

but he doesn't. not now, not yet. as tempting as it could be, it's always best to wait until the ideal moment. )

That's one way of putting it. ( certainly not one that he would use, not even laced with irony and with all of the implicit loathing in the world. ) It would most likely benefit us to at least put on the appearance of a united front, especially when it's expected of us.

( makoto is shifting the weight between his feet, trying to shuffle some of the burden around his neck to an area that hasn't already started to ache with the additional pressure. this is, of course, when gen turns his attention to the talon sinking into the layers of cloth at his shoulder; once pulled, it easily unhooks, and it does so with a small sound of dissatisfaction from its owner. the wing is large enough that even when yanked towards him, it settles around him like an odd, leathery cape wrapped behind his back and around his shoulder — if makoto brought the joints of both to a point above them and unfurled the wings around them like a tent, it would hide both of them from view. it's still uncomfortable, even if he isn't pulling it to its fullest extent (an extent which would begin to test the stitches that conjoined the wings to his back). he seethes with distaste, but he doesn't say anything or pull the wing away from gen, even as he sets it beneath the scrutiny of both his hands and his eyes. if gen really decides to be a problem and press his damn luck, makoto wouldn't think twice about giving him a facial wound to bleed onto the dining table throughout the banquet.

the limb of the wing itself is tautly muscled and cool to the touch due to its being covered with diamond-hard triangular scales that overlap with one another enough to form sheets of sharp, raised ridges. the leathery membrane that stretches between the long, spindly digits that extend from the central joint in contrast is smooth and almost soft in a worn sort of way, strangely warm from the blood that circulates through a vast circulatory network within it. the sensation of someone touching it and manipulating it like this is a strange one, not at all pleasant (though perhaps that's just because it's gen), and makoto feels positively sick to his stomach when he realizes that he's the first to ever handle them like this.

the sheer thought of that nearly makes him tug it out of his grasp and try to shrug out from beneath the overbearing weight of his arm over his shoulders, but — he grits his teeth and forces himself to bear it for a little while longer.

a scoff catches in the back of his throat, as if he were offended even though it's only ever a level-headed decision to not trust a demon. under normal circumstances, at the very least. ) Do I give you such an impression? ( he very specifically doesn't give gen enough time to reply. ) No. I appreciate the value of a good deal, but I was never as enamored with gold as other demons are. I only gathered it because it was exceedingly easy to bribe them.

( a long, thoughtful moment. )

If you're so concerned with trust, all you'd have to do is make a contract with me. We are all bound by them, regardless of our strength. You can always trust a demon to carry out the terms of their contract to the letter.

( of course, given the contracts are usually written by the demon... )

[epiprocta]

[ Gen barely lets Makoto finish that sentence before giving a low scoff, the noise perfectly derisive despite its low volume. ]

Like I'd ever sign any sort of contract with you.

[ Said as he lightly digs the edge of his nail against the outline of a particularly large scale, gauging how much effort it would take to pick one off. Probably too much to be worth it at the moment, especially given the fuss something like that would probably kick up in such a public venue. But it's an observation he'll keep at the back of his mind for the future. A nice little punishment to keep in his back pocket for if (or more like when, he's guessing) Makoto starts properly acting out of line. For now, Gen settles for tracing its shape with the pad of his thumb, then lightly tugging it up from where it lays against intersecting rows of other scales -- just something to keep his hand occupied as he speaks. ]

Bet you demons use all sorts of dirty tricks to get around those contracts. Caveats, technicalities, fine print. I know enough about how shit like that works. When you say 'to the letter,' that's not a guarantee of anything nice. That's a warning.

[ Because Gen knows next to nothing about demons, but he does have enough secondhand knowledge of the kind of shit that goes on in the shady backrooms of his family company's office, between men of his father's ilk. Criminal dealings.

Those are all underhanded tricks and deception, of course. He knows Makoto's type -- weak, slimy, forced to depend on words over strength -- which makes things easy, honestly. As long as he keeps his guard up in the face of whatever bullshit Makoto decides to spew, he has nothing to fear from this obnoxious little shit, and the thought earns the start of a smirk to himself. Gen shifts his hand up to fiddle with the talon-tip of Makoto's wing. ]

Y'know -- I almost feel bad for all the poor morons that got tricked into a contract with someone like you.

[ That last word is punctuated by the press of his thumb against the curve of the talon, pushing it back in its mooring until the joint is strained to his limits. It's not enough force to break the joint, not even enough to sprain it, but just enough to cause a significant twinge of pain. And before Makoto can react to it -- out of pain or anger, whichever -- Gen elbows away the wing's heft from where it had been resting across his shoulders, slipping away a half-step so he's out of the range of any reflexive clawing from that wingtip.

If Makoto wants to attack him for that little stunt, fine. But he'll have to be the active aggressor, and right in front of all these servers. Does he really want to draw that much attention to himself?

With the way Gen meets Makoto's gaze from that half-step away, right within tantalizing clawing distance, it's practically a dare. ]

cw vore mention in introspection ...

[affal]

( makoto would have shrugged, if he had any control over his shoulders in this moment. )

I was simply giving you an option.

( gen is already well aware of makoto's frailty, even given the fact that he's a demon — he wouldn't need to feel the bow of his slight frame as he struggles to support the taller teenager's added weight without an unseemly buckle or stagger to sully the appearance he's putting on here. with this in mind, it might become slowly apparent that the wing that he's extended is made of different stuff altogether. the weight and power in those muscles, the well-ordered and sharp scales as hard as they are unyielding... they may be a part of him now, but they are far more like the demon they had originally come from than the one who wears them now. it took a fierce, ruthless, and clever demon to survive in the slums of hell for over seven hundred years — it's just too bad that kieran had nursed a clear weakness in all of those centuries that had been entirely too easy for makoto to discern and exploit. and now some of that strength and power is his now.

even if he still doesn't fully know how to utilize it yet.

he sighs lightly, as if having to point out for the umpteenth time the misunderstanding of a child. ) All of those things are within the contract, which we adhere to strictly. It can't be helped if a human doesn't bother to read it, or if they are so prideful that they think they can find some way out of it themselves.

( makoto himself hadn't even been innocent of that. the signature written in blood hadn't even dried on his contract before he'd ripped J in two and set to begin devouring him, but after the mental haze of finally being able to sate his desire for flesh had finally cleared, he'd... drug his feet. he'd returned to his school life, returning home only to eat a mouthful or two a day for over a month. it's easy to sign away your life in the spur of the moment, but it's harder to come to terms with its actual end. though he'd never thought of trying to find a loophole out of the deal, he had tried to bargain for more time, even if the only real reason he kept himself alive was to continue to consume J as per the details of the contract, but — the demon will always find a way to put the human back on track. it had been when J had given him something he knew he would never be able to have again in his mortal life that he'd really been ready to die.

he does go rigid at the sudden pressure to the talon, forcing it uncomfortably backwards in its joint, but it's fortunate for gen that he decides then and there to disengage and get some distance from the demon — he had been all too ready to flex the considerable muscles of that wing and sink that talon into his hand, regardless of where they were or what they were about to do.

time and distance allows him to cool off from a momentary flare of anger, though his pale eyes still burn into gen with a silent promise of violence. not here, not now — he's not so stupid that he will be goaded into such a thing, especially not being given a second to remind himself how foolish it would be. when his blood burns hot, he can make simple mistakes like that, but when allowed to return to his reptilian state of languidity — he can be very patient.

and he knows better than nearly anyone that a vengeance well-planned over a period of time is a far sweeter one than one grasped for, hot and messy, in the heat of a very poorly-chosen moment. )

They all got exactly what they asked for, in the end. How many of us can say the same? ( he needles this last comment towards gen in particular, then taking a moment to do what he can to recover from the state of disarray gen had inflicted upon his hair. )