• PM To Join • Fun In Games

[Patrick]

It would seem that his obsessive need for fun and insistence for the taller lady to join paid off, she bought into the idea that her being first would work in her favor at least. Or so that's what Patrick wanted to believe. Quite honestly he just wanted to get flat out hammered to where his memory would fail him, and if his luck played out well enough he'd wake up with a couple broads in bed the next morning. Now that would be the ideal start to a nasty hangover! While it definitely proved more of a stretch with these two ladies, he couldn't discredit the fact he'd be having fun regardless. And that's what this whole game was about. Fun.

"That's the spirit." He remarked after his fellow drinker referred to the taller lady as 'Councilor' or something of that nature. This could only confirm to him that the lady lived a very uptight regime in her life, which just made this game all the more flavorsome since it'd be breaking those boundaries. She looked between him and the other woman considerably, almost internally debating which would likely be the safer bet. It would've been a white lie if Patrick were denying he wanted to be picked, almost innately the impish drunk inside him declared 'Pick me!' as he watched her. He wanted to show the two that he could very well out drink the both of them, although one of the two would likely give that a good run for his money!

That was when another woman decided to sit at the table and join them, someone that Patrick at first deemed stranger when she first took the seat. Yet the manner in which she came strongly onto him suggested otherwise, and sure enough the more he observed her the more he realized something was off. She knew him? But he didn't... Did he know her? How many nights was he just too plain drunk to remember whoring around? Here on Scalvoris that number proved few thankfully, but even then not a single one hinted at an eve with the broad that just joined him. That dress though... And Her eyes. Part of him felt cold suddenly as the look of recognition slowly filled his eyes, there was only one particular individual that he knew to have that same outfit. Granted the hair was a little different in terms of style this time around, there was no denying the claim that the two were associated together.

Regrettably not in the manner Patrick desired.... As it was none other than 'the bitch who bit him' from over an Arc ago. Syroa.

Quite rapidly his impish demeanor changed as the fun seemed to leave his form, and sure enough the Rharnian couldn't help but look from His companion to one of the bottles he'd brought along. Could he use one of them? Could he actually hit Syroa with a fucking bottle? His mind and heart both worked rapidly against each other, as he tried to maintain a calm and casual appearance with the Immortal on his arm now. "Surely not as boring as you think." He murmured a little defensively as her words clearly struck a deep nerve within his core, one of the bottles he'd purchased finally grasped so the cork could be popped from the lip. "See watch, I'll even drink the whole bottle just because I'm a complete fair and fun guy." Probably not the best idea but he deemed it the best approach to go, because right now the drink was certainly the courage he needed to deal with Her.

Yet not long as he tilted the bottle back and started gulping, he felt something material brush and rub along his leg. Something that wasn't a hand, and certainly wasn't welcome in the direction it went. "SHIT!" The thought swore vividly in his mind as he gulped a little too much at once, which resulted in him nearly spewing the sweet flavor of coconut as he held it in. He swallowed hard and coughed a few times with the bottle almost slammed on the table, his hands eagerly moved to brush Her tail away as he hacked several times from the residual burn that lingered. "Ooh! Never mind!" He quickly changed his tone with his cheeks flushed a little in both aggravation and anxiety, clearly caught completely off guard by the fact that Rayso just so happened to show up.

He thought more of his situation now than he did of the fact She was with him, as the Immortal clearly hinted that she'd been watching him after their last meeting. Really?! Bottle chucking from the roofs?! She would use that personal memory as an alibi for the intrusion! That Trial alone had already been difficult for Patrick to handle, thus the fact he now knew she had been watching him both alerted him even further. Just how long after their meeting had she kept an eye on him? He thought that he'd become lost to Her after joining Ymiden's cause near the end of Vhalar... unless... Almost suspiciously he glanced down to the ring on his left hand, as the cracked object still gleamed a deep red orange at the ancient text. Two seasons ago.... Southguard had been caught on the receiving end of the fiend's own wrath, and they had only narrowly found a solution to help cage it once more.

But ever since then the ring seemed slightly damaged. Cracked in one place after Patrick finally retrieved from within his own flesh. Could it be that because of this damage, the powers that shielded him from Syroa were also sabotaged as well? "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!!!" He faked a hearty smile well enough although poker was never his best game, and cleared his throat with a glance over to Sy- er Rayso before choosing his alleged doom. Better to play it safe than sorry, since he couldn't refuse any command the witch gave him.

"I choose Truth." He declared as calm and collected as he could, but deep down he felt nothing but residual fear. Fear and spite of the menacing creature that sat next to him.

[Max]

Rather than make a hasty escape while the option still remained, Amaris indeed chose to begin their merry game. The first question of truth or dare had been directed toward the man. His first test had been given, and sitting back, Max was eagerly waiting to see just which choice he'd choose. Before he'd so much as gotten the opportunity to consider his options, however, a new woman had the audacity to take a seat at their occupied table.

The newcomer bothered not with introduction. Shimmied into a revealing red dress and watching the man, apparently named Patrick, like a hawk. Max's gaze bounced curiously between the acquainted pair. It didn't take a very perceptive eye to gather that there was some sort of history between them. Her very presence seemed to place Patrick firmly on edge, his fun-loving, confident demeanor reduced to a wariness. The power this woman had over him, at least on a level wherein she altered his entire demeanor, was something that greatly intrigued the Rusalka. By the way Rayso addressed everyone else at the table, it seemed only Maxine hadn't the pleasure of properly acquainting herself with the stranger before now.

"Oh, has he?" Max turned her curious gaze from the woman to mischievously eye Patrick. Her lips twitched toward a smirk. The short story on some drunk bottle throwing worthy of knightly attention was the sort of fun she could relate to. If Patrick was as much trouble as the dark-haired woman, Rayso, claimed, she very much wanted to ensure her agenda came to chaotic fruition. "I think livening him up can be arranged. Let's start now, shall we?" Max stole one last inquisitive glance toward Rayso. There was something very...familiar in the look that rested within the woman's eyes; something she knew well whether she was aware of it or not.

Frankly, Max was a bit disappointed in Patrick's choice of truth. Earlier on he'd seemed so fearless. Now that it was his time to fall under scrutiny, even with the kindly Councilor of Natural Affairs as his tormentor, he elected to play it safe. She quietly tsked her disappointment with a slow shake of her head. Her faith laid now with Amaris's ability to keep it interesting with whatever truth she sought from Patrick. Max raised an expectant brow at them, waiting.

[Amaris]

- common / murnasian

The addition of another person had Amaris retreating once more. The woman that approached was very...particularly dressed for the occasion and confessed that she had been the watching the trio. For a moment, their brows furrowed and they were unsure of letting her join. But the red haired woman seemed intent on placing herself within the group, and the mixed blood could find no reason to decline. They eyed the woman for a moment, noting her preoccupation with - Patrick, she called him.

They finally had a name to give to the man, but from another stranger who soon introduced herself as Rayso. And the way she told it made it seem like they were close, although Patrick seemed more nervous than anything. Maybe it would be best if there were something like ground rules for the general comfort of the group.

“Since you’re just joining us, I think it best we let you know what we’re playing, at least,” they stated, gracing the woman with a smile. “It’s truth or dare, though we’re supposed to take a shot if we pass on either. Though, I think it best that we don’t push too much towards anything that would disrupt the other patrons or would warrant being detained by authorities.” Finished,they glanced between the three others at the table.

An unease had settled over Patrick’s side of the table, and he surprised them with the choice of truth. They’d been more prepared with a dare - minute, really - but they were pleased with this as well. Mulling over a question for a trill, they looked to their new companion for a moment. There was the obvious history she had stated, and then there was Patrick’s reaction to her. Something else was involved and if they were supposed to be indulging a bit of harmless fun, there would be no qualms with their asking about it, right?

“If I might ask, Mr. Patrick, what is your relationship with Ms. Rayso?”

[Basilisk]

Syroa had enjoyed watching as Patrick realized who she was, his reaction to her tail climbing his leg. The others at the table were interesting too, though, and she smiled at Maxine in particular. "Oh, you're going to be fun, I think." she said, her voice dropping into a pleased purr as she spoke to the Rusalkis. As for the councilor's rules, Syroa hated when people tried to put restrictions on her. Restrictions were for lesser beings, not for someone of her majesty. But with the way she smiled warmly at Amaris, none could have told she had a problem with it. "Oh, of course, Councilor. I wouldn't want to cause anyone any trouble." she said with a purr as she reached out to pat Amaris's hand. However, her pat had a different goal than the simple friendly gesture it looked like. It start slow, but a heat would build in the councilor, a physical desire for both Patrick and Maxine that would slowly grow the longer she left it unsated.

Then she looked at Patrick as he chose Truth for his turn and frowned slightly. "If the goal is to make things more exciting, we'll have to hope our councilor can make this interesting, hmm?" she said, giving the proverbial leash she held on Patrick a slight tug. Nothing to force his hand, but it appeared she liked to remind him who was in charge. Then came the councilor's question and Syroa turned to the councilor with a playful smile. "Oh, you are clever. Our meeting is quite the story." she said with a purr, before looking back at Patrick.

She was curious to see what he would do here. After all, telling them the truth was an option, as was lying. Of course, lying was against the rules of the game, but it would also out Syroa as being more than human and possibly his own Sessfiend nature. Syroa gave Patrick a sly smile, giving his proverbial leash another tug. "Go on then, Pat. It's an interesting tale, surely you're not ashamed to share it." she purred, though there wasn't a command behind her words. Just a reminder that he was her plaything, to order about as she pleased.

[Patrick]

It would that Syroa certainly had her own way of enjoying things, and Patrick certainly wasn't in the business to deny her otherwise. There was hardly any necessity for her to yank the proverbial chain, as he remembered well the collar that remained shackled over his neck thanks to her. Yet when it came to hearing that his fellow drinkers were interested in livening up his act, he surely felt a slight fracture in his pride at that point momentarily afterwards. He was a fun enough loving guy already! How could someone like him who always wanted to be the life of the party, suddenly be the downer that sobered all those that came to have a good time?! Quite easily it seems. And now that Syroa herself had entered the picture, it would seem he had two games to play instead of just the one.

And yet the Councilwoman had rules to consider, something to create a sense of 'safety' for the four of them. How quaint. She truly was a marvelous peach Patrick wanted to learn more about, and yet even as he thought this he couldn't help but notice Syroa react in turn. His eyes widened as he saw the temptress move to reach over, an expectant look on his face as the wicked thing merely purred at the taller lady. What the hell?! There had to be something involved, he knew too well by now that the conniving bitch had to have bewitch the woman somehow. Only that would have to wait until later to be seen... As for now Patrick had a spotlight to maintain since he was the focus of this game. Truth.

What should he tell them? He could outright admit that Syroa was the evil temptress she portrayed herself to be, even try flashing the damnable tail that toyed with him to prove it. But she'd love that too much now wouldn't she. The first thing Patrick realized about Her is that she is truly deceptive, manipulating and misleading in every which way just to get what She wanted. Like now... As the story did merit the value of interesting, he couldn't outright say he'd nearly had the chance to romp with an Immortal. While the night was certainly young on this particular trial, he certainly didn't see himself giving to Syroa so easily. Least... Not as willingly as he wanted to be the first time they met. Even now when he looked to Her with hidden disdain, there remained something buried deep beneath all that passionate hate and scorn. He didn't want it to be there, but he could never deny it didn't exist either. Desire.

"Fek you." He cursed to her mentally as he kept those deep seated inclinations where they truly belonged. Thus with a slight smirk he forced a chuckle and eased into his chair, determined to keep up the poorest of poker faces he'd likely ever throw on. "Well like Rayso said earlier, we first met on a Trial I was chuckin' bottles from the rooftop of a building in Rharne. Within the Glass Quarter no less, so them bottles flew pretty far down before smashing into things." He admitted a little proudly even if the Trial itself wasn't that great to begin with. "She just found me by my lonesome after one of the Lightning Knights talked me down, and we sorta went somewhere private to hit it off hard afterwards." If he could he'd definitely sell the story well enough to give Syroa mirth, since only the both of them knew the truth about that night.

"She's had this weird bitin' fetish I thought was weird at first, but after that it was love at first night." He lied with a lofty grin as he shot a private glare Her way, unsure whether or not if Syroa got the intent of the silent message. He had almost forgotten to drink his shot's worth after answering the question, the first glass downed as the taste of coconut burned it's way down into his liver. "My fellow drinker," He murmured after a momentary hiccup caused a belch, "truth or dare." After that he downed the second shot of rum in his possession, the bottle he held onto earlier used to refill the two glasses as he glanced between Maxine and Syroa expectantly.

[Max]

Max turned Rayso's assessment with a mischievous smirk and a shrug. Her attention turned to the councilor with bright eyes that rolled at mention of boundaries. Maxine had never been gifted with the ability to keep the rules she was bound to unbroken. She'd do her best to keep them happy, but with liquor involved, she held out hope that the game would be corrupted sooner rather than later. Perhaps she'd at least get them to bend.

Rayso seemed intent on preserving that peace when she offered what looked like a reassuring pat upon Amaris's hand. For a stranger she'd gotten comfortable alarmingly fast at their table. The mood that came with her presence was one of unpredictability, and in Maxine's opinion, it was one that their gathering benefitted from. In any case it was finally time to play.

Amaris might've been a reluctant participant, but in this endeavor she surely didn't disappoint. Max whistled her approval of the question and leaned back in her chair. Her arms crossed and her brow raised, gaze dancing between Rayso and Patrick respectively. The former didn't seem nervous at all about diving into whatever past had bound them together.

The Rusalka watched the trapped man while he settled on getting his story together. The clear discomfort he demonstrated earlier had now been smothered with the donning of a mask of carelessness. She tilted her head at the change, but the intimate details he willingly shared made her second guess any suspicion of deception. Rayso certainly seemed taken in some way with the man. It all very well could've been true. In any case, Pat was quick to address her next as the game's next victim. So be it.

Maxine leaned forward, elbows coming to rest upon the table surface. She didn't even bother setting one of the defeatist shots in front of herself. Her bright eyes skipped to each face, smirk broadening on her own. Little more than a trill had passed. There was no need for hesitation on her part. Likely everyone at the table knew which option she was about to choose.

"Dare," the Rusalka answered, a challenging stare boring into Pat's. After all, if he wasn't going to be the life of the party that Rayso claimed he'd once been, she'd lead the charge with pleasure. "And do make it a good one.”

[Amaris]

- common / murnasian

Amaris was pleased to see that the small boundaries suggested, for the most part, were well received. Rayso had been kind enough to affirm her agreement vocally, patting their hand lightly with a smile. The gesture, they were sure, was meant to be assuring and friendly and while they easily smiled in return, something was amiss. Perhaps it was that the tavern had received more patrons, but the mixed blood was beginning too feel it was growing warmer in the room. Coupled with Patrick's apparent surprise by the small action, things didn't sit too well with them. But it could have been anything, they supposed. Rolling back the sleeves of their shirt a bit up their arms, they folded their hands on the table and a little out of Rayso's reach. Or anyone's, for that matter, teetering slightly off the edge of the table as they sat upright.

Their discomfort, though, proved to be more than just a larger mass of bodies within the same room. As they listened to Patrick's reply to their inquiry, they found it much harder to concentrate the words being said rather than the way the man's lips moved with every word. They blinked, tearing their gaze slightly upward to his eyes and finding little refuge there. They weren't particularly stunning nor were they perhaps all that mesmerizing to someone else, and holding eye contact had never been one of their habits, they found themselves unable to look away. His words flitted past them and they soon ceased to care that he'd not entirely answered the question or that he might not have told the truth either.

It was, though, the belch that drove their mind to focus once more and it was Maxine chosen as the next player. Amaris feared for a moment that the other woman would see it fit to turn to them when her turn was done, but they were once more distracted. Something, they felt, was wrong with them. It was not often that they lost focus so quickly in conversation - and certainly not to ogle their companions. The best course of action, they figured, would be to turn their eyes to their own fingers, intertwined and lacing tattoos into varying patterns.

[Basilisk]

Syroa smirked as Patrick began to tell a story about their meeting, grinning slightly when he even brought up the biting fetish. It wasn't a bad story, doctored as it was. "Ah, but alas, we could not stay together. He gets nervous when he gets to thinking someone is out of his league, silly boy that he is." she purred playfully, but he would be able to detect a note of malice beneath it all. She was not happy about the fact that he had used the ring to hide from her.

She did notice Amaris's sudden staring at Patrick and smiled slightly to herself. It would be interesting to watch the councilor squirm more and more over her companions, even after they separated. Of course, if the councilor proved to be entertaining enough for the night, she might lift the little enchantment she had put on them. On the other hand, she could leave it there indefinitely, either would be fine with the demonic temptress. After all, she was here to have fun and torment her runaway toy and if messing with Amaris accomplished either of those goals, then Syroa figured she was was well within her rights to do whatever she wanted to Amaris.

Then the game turned to Maxine, and Syroa smiled at the Rusalkis when she chose dare. Leave it to one of Chrien's marked to spice up the game. "Oh, this will be fun, I think. Do make it interesting, Patrick. I think she'd be disappointed if you made it easy on her." she said, laughing slightly. Again, there was no command in her words, and it appeared she'd gotten bored of yanking his chain for the moment. Of course, she didn't really have a need to at the moment, either.

[Patrick]

Syroa seemed moderately pleased with the half woven truth to their story, although it resulted in one other tidbit that soured the alcohol in his mouth. He swallowed hard and scoffed at her remark, a little unaware of the innuendo involved at first. But then it hit him. She knew of the ring, and She likely knew he wore it even now. While he could detect the displeasure in her subtle message, he merely shrugged with a forced smirk before he added his own self defense. "What can I say, one heartbreak too many; and you're never good enough for someone else." He chided with almost a snide look towards Syroa, a bit of victorious pride in slight defiance he projected against Her.

Not that it was much of anything at all, but he had to get it in while he still had the personal freedom. Sooner or later She'd become cold like before and, once bored with him, just proceed to order him around just as she did before. Oh yes. He didn't forget the way She treated him. Bossing him around like a house pet no less, subjecting Her will onto him after inflicting him with Her precious curse. Admittedly a part of him started to purr deep within, in remembrance of the master that dark and twisted part of him served most willingly. Patrick cursed that part of him, spiting both it and Syroa for making him the monster he'd become numerous times.

Yet one thing interesting seemed to develop with Her present, the tall councilor seemed vividly focused first on Patrick. Then on their fellow drinking partner, the one Patrick ultimately found himself on the verge of daring not long after. Had Syroa instilled some kind of lust within the taller woman? There was that touch of a hand earlier... So that could've been... Somehow he couldn't help but genuinely smile, even though he hated Her so much Syroa didn't fail to please; since She did bring a new sense fun to the table after all. "Poor woman, she's already confused over what she's feelin' deep down." Almost selfishly Patrick wanted to take advantage of that, but the good bit of fun with Truth and Dare still required him to focus.

Thus he looked from Maxine to Syora with narrowed eyes, curiosity the obvious glint residing in them as he started to piece the two together. Patrick ultimately had no means of personal revenge against Syroa, at least not up until now where for once someone else had to do what they were told. Well... dared to rather. It would be a sweet act of revenge even if it wasn't his own being involved, but somehow seeing if Syroa would allow it intrigued him all the same. Therefore he grew bolder with the dare and, finally, looked from the Immortal back to Maxine with a big smirk.

"I dare you to bite Rayso here, hard as you can, wherever She permits you to. I'd personally suggest the neck or collar bone myself, but I'll leave that up to Rayso to decide." He mused with a lean back into his chair, the bottle of rum he took earlier tilted with sheer delight.

Off Topic

So I checked with Basilisk on this and Syroa seems liable to allow Maxine to bite her anywhere; so I think ultimately it falls on Maxine to figure out where she does this; if she chooses to go through with it. Good luck!

[Max]

Truth or Dare wasn't the only game being played at this table. Between the stolen glances, flickers of hidden emotion, and alternative meanings behind vague re-tellings, Maxine needn't the power of omniscience to know there was something far more complicated to Rayso and Patrick's relationship than was being let on. It wasn't that the Rusalka believed either in the pair were liars...but more so that neither were telling the whole truth. For all she knew they could be one of those couples with a weird fetish for jealousy. Max had never been good at such ploys with Mercedes. The last woman she noticed garnering his attention got a drink thrown in her face, and it would've been accompanied by a flurry of fists if not for that damned sailor.

Her gaze shifted to Councilor Amaris. The very trill she searched her expression, her brow rose slightly. In the bits that had passed, they had become noticeably uncomfortable. Their sleeves were shoved up as though even a tavern during Cylus was far too warm. Their hands had drawn in closer to their body in a nearly protective gesture, and all the while their eyes had dipped down as though their fingers had suddenly become so very interesting. Was she put on edge by the mysterious couple at the table as well? There was little time to dwell on the nuance. Patrick had finally come up with a worthy dare.

Maxine's challenging grin widened. She sat back in her chair, brow raised with admiration. Her caramel eyes glanced toward Rayso and a quiet guffaw escaped her lips. One of the shots were scooped up and raised toward the hard-drinking man.
"Make no mistake," the Rusalka warned as she brought the glass toward her lips. "This isn't a white flag." She tossed back the liquor and placed the empty glass back on the table before her. The Mixed Race rose from her chair after that with a shrug. Her fingers traced the backs of each chair of her companions as she made her way around the table. Finally she paused behind Rayso's chair, her curious eyes dancing briefly between Patrick and Amaris.

Guess it should be assumed you signed the unspoken waiver the moment you joined the game, Rayso.

The mischievous woman's mind wandered into a particularly deviant direction. Her gaze settled more firmly on Patrick, a single brow raised as she prepared to execute her task. A hand gingerly swept Rayso's dark wine hair back behind her shoulder, exposing the flesh that failed to find refuge in the red dress. "A biting fetish, you said?" It was more of a restatement of spoken fact than a question. Her eyes dipped to watch as her index finger drew an imperfect line from beneath the woman's ear, down the side of her neck, and stopping only at at bony end of her shoulder. The corners of her mouth twitched. She'd found her target. Max lowered herself down toward her mark.

"Did she bite you like this?" Maxine teased Pat wickedly with coquettish expression before sinking her teeth into the juncture of Rayso's neck and shoulder. It wasn't quite a savage bite meant to truly harm the stranger. Instead it was one of slow build. Lips. Teeth. The pressure grew in compliance with Patrick's dare, and it was only a trill before she tasted blood in her mouth. Only when she'd properly completed her performance did Max pull away from her target. She stood back up, thumb swiping stray crimson from her lips. "Hope it was as good for you as it was for me," she played the goriness of the dare off with an appreciative, gentle pat upon Rayso's chair. "And if not, blame your boy toy."

Max fell back into her chair, threw back another shot, and directed her attention next to the only person at the table she believed truly held trepidation over this game. "Good Councilor Amaris." She leaned forward to put her elbows back on the table. "Truth...or dare?"