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TDM #1

TEST DRIVE MEME

This Mess We're In The city sun sets over me...

You awaken slightly disoriented on a beautiful, smooth stone floor. A look around will tell you that this place is a hilltop temple with a good view of the beautiful city below. On opposite sides of the temple are genderless depictions of deities. One is clearly powerful, made of onyx, held up in an imposing stance with one hand holding a gilded flogger and the other outstretched with an open palm as if to enforce a command. The other, made of polished white marble, has taken a knee to the dominant statue across from them. One of their hands is a vase for fresh flowers and you can see that new ones have been placed there today.

The music of an unseen harp begins to play and a golden light permeates the temple. Suddenly, you know what is happening here. The duality that is worshipped here, the figures in the temple, they have a name. The onyx one is Ceannasach and the marble one is Cuiristeach and together with their combined power they are the ones who have brought you to Parthas.

What is Parthas? Parthas is paradise! You have either been brought here because Ceannasach believes you contribute to your world in some glorious way and deserve to be honored and served or because Cuiristeach believes that you would be excellent in a service role, perhaps they even feel sorry for the state of your life back home and want to show you something better.

The deities here also brought you because they need lik which is the energy that allows them to exist. Lik is created in small amounts when you interact with other people, in greater amounts when you grow fond of certain people, and in greater still amounts when you begin to use physical affection. However, when you orgasm, that creates the purest form of lik there is.

Ceannasach and Cuiristeach reward you in a special way. When you have sex with your soulmate or your hjarta, your vördr, or spirit, leaves your body in a time-frozen moment to commune with the deities and ask for something big or small that you might like. Sex carries on as usual and only you will know that you asked for something. If you ask to be sent home, the deities will send you into a hyperaroused state when you least expect it. Hey, you offended them.

The deities also believe you should know of something they have placed in Parthas for your benefit. There is a river in a valley in the middle of housing that will give and take anything you like from your body if you should so wish. This can mean a illness, sadness, a memory or anything else, but be careful because this river runs on fickle magic.

As the harp music continues, you become aware of a new power of yours. You can hear any thought that any other person sends your way, even the ones sent accidentally, and you can see images and moving pictures, as well. Don’t limit yourself to one person! Send that thought to everyone!

The harp music comes to an eventual end and you are left with the knowledge the deities gave you. Your intuition leads you down a southbound path towards a city where a celebration seems to be taking place, if the colorful banners are any indicator. Welcome to Parthas!

Dancing Barefoot She, intoxicated by Thee; She has the slow sensation that He is levitating with She

There is indeed a celebration going on in South City as this is the month of Feabhra. Where it was daylight when you left the Main Temple, now that you have reached the city the only lights are colorful paper lanterns strung up across smooth stone roads. The warmth of the daytime has cooled, so it might be smart to snuggle up with someone in one of the city’s various gazebos – each of them has a swing made for two (or three if you snuggle close enough.)

Harps, flutes, guitars and drums play lively music for everyone to dance to in the city square where garlands of brightly colored and white flowers hang for people to do with as they will. A stately woman dressed in black and wearing a brooch with the face of Ceannasach stands off to the side, her dark hair pulled back in a chignon. Whispers circulate, getting to you and informing you that this woman is E’ara Fraoch, owner of the most successful brothel in South City, and she is paying 50 gold pieces to the best dancers and 100 more if they will come work for her at Where The Wild Roses Grow, her establishment.

I Feel You I feel you, your precious soul, and I am whole

Food and drink is plentiful at this celebration and some of it is even free! The vendors believe that this is a good promotion for their stores during the rest of the year. They wheel their carts about, humming jaunty tunes and offering delicious things to you, the new arrivals, and everyone else in the city.
There is a man named Sam wheeling his cart of beverages and chocolate dipped waffles through town. If you catch him, he’ll probably suggest you order the alcoholic drink The Spirit of Feabhra. This drink does not come without side effects. It tastes like a fancy gin cocktail, sparkling and sweet with the flavor of berries and mint hitting your tongue, but the moment you get close to someone you actually have feelings for, you start to feel it… Them. Their thoughts, their emotions, their dreams… It’s as if they have melted into you.

Is This Desire? Is this desire; Enough, enough; To lift us higher; To lift above?

You have been told repeatedly throughout the night by smiling (creepy) faces not to wander out of the city limits into the wilderness, but now that you are here you just don’t get it. Lichens and fungi light up the night with a soft glow from the tree trunks, seemingly drawing you in.

In the forest, the music fades and the chittering of small animals creates a different tune. You don’t seem to be in danger. You might come across the healthiest, most beautiful apple tree you’ve ever seen. It is completely free of pests and only the dew clings to the apples’ shiny surface.

Should you pick one for yourself, you will feel a strange compulsion to bite it. Go on. Do it. If and when you have, you will find yourself incredibly aroused, but you won’t be able to bring yourself to orgasm – another must do it. If you didn’t bite the apple, maybe you gave it to someone else. In that case they will be unstoppably attracted to you with arousal to match. If you chose to plant it near your home, a tree like the one it came from will grow there and you will ICly receive a special reward.

Dead of Night When delirious fun; Has seriously begun; You'll be down on your knees; You'll be begging us please

Now you’ve done it. You’ve wandered into the woods without a spiritual guide from the temple. Now the vættir have been awoken and they are ready to fuck shit up… Sort of. Right now, these spirits kind of only want to ruin this party, but who knows what they’ll do later?

A low-lying cloud of black smoke crawls down the hills from the forest to the city until it covers the smooth stone roads and reaches up into everyone who is either of weak constitution or just simply tired and possesses them. It doesn’t take total control, but rather influences them, and causes them to destroy decorations, vendor carts, and do wild things they wouldn’t ordinarily do. Basically, these spirits want to cut through the façade and see you party like a rock star.

The only way to exorcise one of the vættir from a friend or loved one is to call on the deity of light – Cuiristeach. They accept demonstrations of service as the highest form of prayer, so get on your knees for your friend and get this done!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( Jon squeezes her hand a little when she talks about her mother and brother. Bearing children is a dangerous thing and the women in his life haven't had to do that except one, the most important one: his mother. )

My mother died giving birth to me. My uncle, the man who raised me as his son, he kept a promise to her to keep me safe. The birthing bed is something I don't know I'd ever want to put a woman I loved through. I wouldn't want to lose her.

( When she says she has a dragon, though, he feels as if a dark cloud has passed. He only got to ride Rhaegal for a little while but he'd loved every moment of it. It had been terrifying but good at the same time. )

My dragon was Rhaegal. He was Daenerys' dragon, really, but he let me ride him. She rode her biggest dragon, Drogon. Rhaegal, though, he was green and bronze. I was terrified the first time I rode him. I thought he was going to kill me. I think he was just trying to see if I was Targaryen enough.

[His touch is a comfort, one that is shocking since they've only just met, but she can feel it. There's a pull there, a familiarity that extends beyond the binds of time and reality. Rhaenyra doesn't question it, like she doesn't question her attraction to Daemon. It just is. So she smiles lightly.

She deems that Jon is a good and caring man. There aren't many of those, that much she knows for certain. She thinks she wants to get to know him better, know more about the Westeros he lives in, hoping it truly is a better world than the one she comes from.

But the talk of dragons does lighten things a little, and still she does not let his touch go.]

He is your dragon then. He will not let anyone ride him until your death. [It is how dragons operated, she knew. This Daenerys may have raised him, but if she sat atop Drogon, than Rhaegal would need a rider, and Jon was his rider.]

There is a bond we have as dragonriders. It is in the blood. The blood of the dragon.

Edited 2023-02-01 05:07 (UTC)

I never understood it. It was almost like he knew what I wanted to do and I didn't have to tell him. It's nothing like riding a horse. It's different. It's better.

( Jon laughs and he thinks it's the first true laugh he's had in a long time. He remembers the day that Daenerys had told him to try to ride Rhaegal and he asked if he was going to be killed and she said it had been good to know him. That day was good, as was the dizzying flight down the mountains where he barely kept his seat. )

Wish they had saddles though. Hard to stay on unless you're paying attention and you'll drop straight down if they don't want you on.

That's the bond. It is like they become a part of us. I think they can feel us, too. They know where we are, what we want. Riding them is an art-- but so much freer.

[She closes her eyes, imagining being on Syrax in that moment, and she squeezes Jon's hand. She misses it already. She misses her dragon. It's like a pang to be separated, and she has to open her eyes slowly to look back at him.]

Of course we have saddles. Each is individually made. They're kept in the dragonpit. Or I suppose wherever the other dragonriders live.

( Jon shakes his head and laughs again. Of course they would have had saddles originally when there were plenty of Targaryen dragons but when the dragons died, there were no need for dragon saddles. He grins at Rhaenyra. )

Daenerys and I never used saddles. I didn't even know they were ever made. I don't know what happened - I'm no maester - but all the dragons died out and no more eggs hatched at some point. Dany's dragons were hatched from eggs that were petrified but they caught fire and hatched instead. Do you get to ride Syrax every day then? Or only for special reasons?

A world without dragons seems sad. They are the most amazing creatures. Truly.

[Anything related to dragons being gone also seems sad, like a part of history, a part of her own world, disappears. Of course she doesn't know what happens to the Dragon Pit. There may be some saddles floating around his time, but certainly not accessible, and most likely all destroyed. Again it makes her frown.]

I cannot imagine not riding her. I would try and get out at every chance I could, much to my father's dismay I'm sure. I rode her to Dragonstone once though, kept us from war. [From her uncle, but she doesn't add in the details.]

It will be strange to not have her here though.

We'll just have to talk about it, then. I don't know why this place wants us here or what it thinks it will gain by having two Targaryens but I think we both know we're too stubborn for that. Anyone who can ride a dragon can defy the gods, right?

( Jon smirks a little and squeezes her hand again. It just feels good to share something with someone again and he shares a lot with Rhaenyra for all that they're separated by time. )

The Seven, anyway. We keep to the Old Gods in the North. Who knows, maybe they were dragons. Nobody ever says what they looked like.

The Seven are just the gods of Westeros. [Clearly Rhaenyra has no care for them nor no loyalty. She might be southron, but she's Targaryen, and Targaryens didn't follow the Seven either-- unless they were utterly pushed into it. She keeps her face flat when she looks at him though. There's so much he doesn't quite know about it all though, does he?]

I do not know what we are meant to do here, other than what I think we both know what they want. I do not think it has much to do with dragons, but here we have one another.

[It almost sounds like a proposition. Alleyship could be read in there if he's disgusted by any such notion. She already knows he had his Daenerys, and shes's certainly not trying to replace that. She's never been someone's love before, but she has been a lover. Rhaenyra can offer that without shame despite the familial bond they share.

That is something else she cares less about. The Seven would. His Old Gods might, but she highly doubts the gods of this place care how the lik is created. They have likely already created some between one another, taking in one another's company and holding hands.

For now though, she lets the offer linger, seeing how he'll react to it.]

( Rhaenyra has the right of it. For good or ill, the gods have brought the two of them to this place and he's not naive about what their purpose is. They're meant to be with people whether they would choose it normally or not and while he doesn't know if he's quite ready to love someone again after losing both of the women he's loved, he does know he doesn't want to be alone. If he has to bed people to survive this place, he's going to bed the people he likes. Rhaenyra, he likes very much. She's everything Daenerys should have been able to be - a woman with her family, her dragon, and a kingdom to rule. It's no dishonor to Daenerys to be with someone so like her. Not when the respect is there. )

We share blood, aye, but we also share a home and a way of life. If I'm to be with someone I want to be with someone who understands me and understands Daenerys. I don't think I could tell anyone else about her and have them understand. Not like you do. I see her in you but I see somewhat else, too, and I don't think it dishonorable to her or anyone else if we're allies.

( Jon lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it lightly. )

We're stronger together than we'd be apart.

[She understands what he's saying, the very important role that Daenerys played in his life. It is heartbreaking to hear it, but if Rhaenyra can give him this, she knows that it is something. It's meaningful. It's family. Maybe it shouldn't be, but Rhaenyra has never not attempted to get what she wanted, and she certainly isn't going to start with Jon.

They're alone now in her rooms, and while she certainly hadn't planned for things to turn to this, it also isn't a surprise either. He's handsome and strong. Part of him reminds her of Ser Harwin, though he truly looks like a Stark.]

I would like to be that. [Allies. More. Her voice is barely above a whisper, but she's sure about what she says.] We can be each other's comfort here.

[She shifts then so she can turn in toward him, letting him take her hand and kiss it. Gently she touches his face, oscillating her hand in so that she can caress the side of his cheek.]

You should stay the night. [Another offer, another way of encroaching in on what she really wants.]

( Comfort. There hasn't been a lot of comfort in his life. Strangely, the most comfortable days of his life had been the emotionally painful ones growing up in Winterfell feeling alone even if he was still a part of a family. He wishes that Lady Stark had known the truth and that he wasn't a bastard, he was a nephew, and if she would have been kinder. Perhaps she would have.

Comfort had only come to him for a short while with Ygritte and a short while with Daenerys. Everything else has been war or fighting and he's fair sick of both. The idea of just being with someone that understands him and wants to take care of him warms his blood. She needs him, too. Jon thinks Rhaenyra will need someone to protect her and he's her family. He should do that. He turns his head a bit so he can kiss her thumb. )

I'll stay the night. I'm glad I met you, Rhaenyra.

[She does not think they will have very many hardships here, none like the ones he has faced. It may not be easy. Already they are asking things of them that would be considered not only scandalous, but could get them both killed or worse if others knew. Rhaenyra doesn't care though. She's tired of the expectations that are placed on her because she is a woman. While she was enjoying herself before he had found her, now that he has, she cannot imagine being a part from him.

They've made their pact, and he kisses at her thumb, eliciting a soft smile from her. She wishes it were a hundred different parts of her body, but they have the entirety of the night-- and as many nights and days as they wish.]

I am glad you found me, Jon. [She feels that giddiness creep up, like it's still a secret between the two. She isn't ashamed of it, much like she never tried to hide in the pleasure house either (though she was following more of Daemon's lead). Something her uncle taught her though was to have what she wanted, and right now she wanted him.

Rhaenyra doesn't shy away now, slipping into his lap now, sitting against him as her thumb brushes a bit of the pad of his bottom lip. It's clear what she's thinking about in the seconds before her arms wrap around him, and she takes this moment to look at him in his grey eyes, watching the way he looks back at her now in his arms.]

( Rhaenyra is beautiful and he takes a few moments to catalogue all the ways she is unique to him, all the things she doesn't share with anyone else he's been with. Her eyes are the same purple that all Targaryens other than him seem to have and her brows are strong. Her lips are full and look impossibly soft and while she's settled in his lap, he cups her face in his hands and kisses her.

He hasn't kissed anyone since Daenerys and had thought, honestly, that he wouldn't again. He'd had his heart broken twice-over and thought himself done with women but Rhaenyra doesn't expect him to love her. She wants to be his comfort and his ally and the past year or so has told him that being a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing. He doesn't want to be alone. )

Aye, I'm the lucky one. You have to look at my face.

( It's not a bad face, he thinks. Tormund had said he was prettier than his daughters and Ygritte had always said he was so pretty that all the soft women below the Wall must have wanted to claw each others eyes out to be with him. He's never thought of himself that way. He's scarred now from battles - his face and his body - and he just has the Stark look. It's not special like how Rhaenyra and Daenerys are. )

[She's small in his lap, something she is used to, but he's broad. She can feel the way his muscles move under her, and she thinks she fits nicely against that. She feels comfortable, safe even, though that's never been a question in her mind. Her hands end up at his shoulders as he kisses her slowly, and she smiles against his lips.

They're both looking for something in the other person. It isn't lonely, but it isn't stifling for her, to have that familiarity like it might have been if others from Westeros arrived here. Alicent, Criston, the others, they would come with their own ideas of what should happen. Maybe Daemon would be different, but it's hard to have hope for him when she might have already lost him to her own marriage vows.

Now she doesn't have to think about that. She just leans her forehead against his, looking down at him as she does. A hand wipes some of his hair back away from his face.]

It is a nice face. Handsome, strong. It has seen too many things though. [Things she hopes to share with him now, to ease whatever burden he's carried alone for so long.]

( Too many things. Jon thinks he's seen more death and destruction than any man should see and when he came back from King's Landing, he'd felt like a soldier coming home half his weight only it had been his heart he left behind instead. Rhaenyra's hand feels good in his hair, though, and he closes his eyes and just enjoys the touch. Touch is such a powerful thing and when you've been deprived from it, it feels even more important once you have it again. )

Things I hope you never have to see. I'll take care of you, Rhaenyra. I swear it.

( It's easy to make promises like this in the dark and he's always been one for swearing his sword when the cause feels right. It feels right to do it here even if he doesn't think Rhaenyra is going to be in danger from assassins or rapists or anything like she'd be in danger from in Westeros. No, it's her heart he should protect, the same as he thinks she can protect his. He touches his hands to the sleeves of her gown. )

Will you let me take it off?

[He swears it so easily, and it makes the corners of Rhaenyra’s mouth uptick into a pleasant little smile. It seems almost like a story, the way a soldier prince returns home to a princess. He will keep her safe, he says. Still she likes the idea more than she even realizes, mostly because she did pick Ser Criston for a reason. Only thankfully Jon isn’t talking of going off on a boat with fruit or something.]

You are a Targaryen. You needn’t pledge your sword. [Because she’s from a time before Targaryens waged war on one another. She has enough hope that maybe her actions can cause the realm to follow her, to accept her as she is, as they said they would.

As he so easily accepts her now.]

There are ties in the back. If you loosen them enough, the gown will lift up. [There is still the matter of her underskirts, but she isn’t sure how well he does with taking off ladies’ dresses.]

Edited 2023-02-01 07:13 (UTC)

( Jon knows his way around dresses if only because Daenerys had taught him and even then her dresses had been different than the ones women in Westeros wore. She wore exotic things more suited to Essos than the cold, cold North and when she had winter clothes made, they still looked different and other; she didn't wear the dark furs of the Northmen.

He starts untying her laces to loosen them and once he has, he pulls the gown upward so he can start getting it off her. Her clothes should go first if only because it is much, much easier to undress a man. Men dress the same no matter where they're from and women, well. Women are far more complicated. )

I think women make these so men can't have them so quickly. It's to keep from having a babe once a year, isn't it? If it takes me a year to get it off then it means there's a year you don't have to worry about it.

( It's a clear joke, his eyes bright and his smile flashing in the dark. He hasn't smiled so easily in a while and he's glad he's found this tonight. )

[This particular dress isn't entirely complicated, but the fashions of her time do dictate multiple layers, the way fabric comes together to hold the body. He does well with the gown itself, the white fabric being pulled from her. Rhae lifts her arms so that it can just slide up and over her head whenever he's ready to do so.

His words do get a small huff of amusement from her.] You've never undressed a fully clad man with all of his armor, have you?

[She is teasing in kind, but she remembers how long it took to undress Criston. It certainly took her longer, but then she was also still in her page disguise, dressed as a boy.

She leans in again to kiss his lips in that same simple, fun way. She only wants to elongate this. To remember every moment, hoping he gains something just as light and fun as it is for her.]

I undress me so yes, I've undressed a man in full armor. Yours is still more difficult.

( It's all said jokingly, though, and he presses his mouth to hers in a rush of emotion, wanting the fun of the kiss and the enjoyment of just being with someone after walling himself away. It's good for him, he thinks, and he doesn't want to feel guilty about it in the morning. He brings her hands to his shirt. )

I didn't wear armor today. No need for it. I don't think this place cares who I am.

That doesn't count, [She says with a laugh, like they've been friends their whole lives, known each other for far longer. It comes naturally with him, and the teasing is almost second hand, too. But nimble fingers slip over his fabric as she means to get his shirt off, working with him as they take turns to undress one another. She tugs a little to get it free from his britches, but it's his turn to have his shirt go up and over his head next.]

I care who you are. You are a Targaryen. I wouldn't forget that. Ever.

[Much like he swears to her, she silently promises that she won't forget either. It's also simple to say, in a time when the unthinkable could never happen. Rhaenyra means it though, stealing another kiss, basking in the innocence of it all. He is hers in more than one way, and that is all that matters for this moment.]

( No one can hurt him here. The people who might think him a threat to the Iron Throne aren't here and the people who don't want a woman seated on it aren't a threat to Rhaenyra here either. They can be together both as Targaryen and friend and it is a good thing.

He shifts to get her underskirts and smallclothes pulled away, trying to be as careful as he can with it. He's a warrior with a warrior's hands and they're not used to all the things that come with lady's dresses. He doesn't know how many gowns Rhaenyra has here but he likes this one and doesn't want to be the person who ruins it. )

You're not a maid, are you?

( He had assumed she wasn't because of how confident she was but he wants to know before they go any further. It doesn't change that he'll be with her - he will - but it will change how careful he is. )

[She doesn’t have to think of politics or the realm here. Duty feels almost meaningless, though it’s only had it’s hold on her briefly when her father reminded her. But here she has none of that. She’s not even sure if her title means anything at all. Only Jon respects it, and perhaps that also goes in his favor.

Piece by piece their clothes seem to come off. He’s much more careful with the fabric than she might expect him to be. Not even Criston had to work with such an intricate gown before, though she does think he would have taken his time, too. Fingers skate across his chest though, noticing the scars already. He doesn’t have to explain right then, but her eyes flick back to his. More tales. They speak of more hardships, and she dips her head down to kiss the one of them, almost apologizing for all that he’s gone through alone.]

No, [She answers simply, knowing he won’t hold it against her as many men might have. She already spoke of undressing a man although that pales in comparison to what the realm might think if they knew it’s Princess truly was defiled (though not by the person they might have thought given the rumors).

Jon doesn’t seem like most men though, neither from his time nor hers. Neither of them have really balked at what this places asks of them, and both have rather easily fallen into bed with one another.]

( There's no reason for him to care if someone is a maiden or not. It's a stupid thing to put a woman's value on, in his opinion, and Daenerys had been open enough about her wants and desires to make it known that she did not need a marriage to share herself with another person. Jon doesn't want the responsibility of guiding a virgin princess in bed, absolutely not, but he would have if it were the case. He's just glad that it isn't and they can come to this on more equal footing.

He guides his hands over the smooth skin of her shoulders and down her back, enjoying how it feels just to touch and be touched, and he smiles at her softly. )

Then you know what you want, don't you? I won't have to ask after every little touch?

[She can feel the heat between them growing, the way the entirety of everything between them has switched, feeling that connection when she looks in his eyes. She may be younger than him and not nearly as experienced, but she does know what she feels. Rhaenyra has always known her own desires.

Fingers glide along his shoulders, breathing in deeply. She does know what she wants, and she’s taking in every moment of being with him, the circumstances, the strangeness they find themselves in, and yet, it feels as simple as something she’s always known: her own bloodline.]

I want you, Jon. In every way you’ll have me. [Her confidence never wavers, just slowly rolling her hips down against his to make her words more poignant.]

You can ask if you feel you wish to, but I would tell you if something did not feel right between us. [Consent isn’t a topic that is discussed, but she can understand what he means. He’s creating an understanding between them, and he doesn’t need to take it slowly unless he feels he wants to.]

( It seems Rhaenyra trusts him and trusts this enough between them to be able to speak up if he does something she mislikes so that is all he mentions of it. Westeros isn't a place where people bed one another for fun, normally - usually men go to brothels or get married to have children - but at least both of them are lucky enough to have experienced others in bed before now and have an idea of what they like and what they might like together.

He kisses her fiercely then, teeth tugging at her lower lip to make it even fuller than it already is, and he puts his hands at her waist to try and shift her beneath him. There are other ways to be together, yes, but he wants this one first. It won't be the last. He hasn't been with anyone since Daenerys and he doesn't know the last person Rhaenyra was with but here, in this space, they have one another and that's more than enough. )

TDM #1

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tw: ever so slight spoiler for future seasons

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tw: incest

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