Personification Life - IC Part VIII [open]

[Urran]

A young lady with red eyes and powdery purple hair walked into the lobby of the building. Well, this was the place. The way Gen had explained it, for some reason she thought that it would be much more impressive. But that didn't matter. She grunted and growled as she dragged her suit case behind her. It made her look the part of soft, gentle girl, which in a way, she was. Now, she had to wait for someone to come along and help her.

[The BranRiech]

In the dining room, looking somewhat depressed, was Bran and Rylli. Both were still wearing the same clothes they got from Fram that morning, and were shooting defiant glances at the clothes that were trapped on them.

Various cutting devices lay nearby as well: Knives, and scissors.

"-amn these clothes." Bran was in the middle of saying, looking down at the naval shirt. He hated the navy, and their uniform! Besides, this one was Russian, not even Soviet.

Rylli, meanwhile, was simple looking at her floral dress distastefully.

[Cerillium]

A young lady with red eyes and powdery purple hair walked into the lobby of the building. Well, this was the place. The way Gen had explained it, for some reason she thought that it would be much more impressive. But that didn't matter. She grunted and growled as she dragged her suit case behind her. It made her look the part of soft, gentle girl, which in a way, she was. Now, she had to wait for someone to come along and help her.

"Can I help you?" said a man with a thick German accent. He was sitting ramrod straight in a chair behind the reception desk. His hands were folded in front of him and he regarded the new arrival through wire rim glasses. His uniform was German and dated back to the 1940s.

---

Ogoti helped himself to a glass of orange juice. He glanced at the pair in the communal dining room.

"The dress isn't too bad but that uniform? I thought you were a mechanic."

[Urran]

The girl looked up at him with a small smile. "Oh, yes please, my bag is too heavy for me to lift." She lied, of course. Her modified body would have allowed her to lift it with ease, but to a normal human it still would have been quite heavy. Anew didn't quite know what to expect.

[The BranRiech]

"Yeah, this is like something a submariner wears, or a mechanic on a filthy ship. I had the choice of joining either the Navy, or the Air force. I'd have been serving on a tiny gunboat, but I took the AIr force, and look where that got me. Right here. This uniform? An insult, I'd say." Bran muttered, turning to his other Uncle, if one were to go off of who Swith considered family.

Rylli rolled her eyes.

"It's not the dress, for me. It's that we can't remove the clothes. I just want to curl up on the couch in some sweats with a book, and Bran here, but this dress? Not too comfortable. Watch."

She deftly picked up some scissors, and as if she were quite used to the motion, slit the dress with them. She removed the scissors as the dress simply restitched itself. Bran's wife proceeded to try pulling the dress off to no avail, and she was also quick to point out the lack of a zipper.

"Same with the uniform." Bran added.

[Cerillium]

The girl looked up at him with a small smile. "Oh, yes please, my bag is too heavy for me to lift." She lied, of course. Her modified body would have allowed her to lift it with ease, but to a normal human it still would have been quite heavy. Anew didn't quite know what to expect.

"You packed too much." His austere expression didn't change as he slid an application onto the counter.

"Fill out, please. You do intend to stay here, yes?" He placed a ballpoint pen beside the application.

"Yeah, this is like something a submariner wears, or a mechanic on a filthy ship. I had the choice of joining either the Navy, or the Air force. I'd have been serving on a tiny gunboat, but I took the AIr force, and look where that got me. Right here. This uniform? An insult, I'd say." Bran muttered, turning to his other Uncle, if one were to go off of who Swith considered family.

Rylli rolled her eyes.

"It's not the dress, for me. It's that we can't remove the clothes. I just want to curl up on the couch in some sweats with a book, and Bran here, but this dress? Not too comfortable. Watch."

She deftly picked up some scissors, and as if she were quite used to the motion, slit the dress with them. She removed the scissors as the dress simply restitched itself. Bran's wife proceeded to try pulling the dress off to no avail, and she was also quick to point out the lack of a zipper.

"Same with the uniform." Bran added.

The corners of Ogoti's mouth flickered into a smile. "Ah. Celibacy attire. You must have run afoul of Swith's counterpart. He has an annoying sense of humor."

He set his orange juice down and peered at Rylli's dress. There wasn't a zipper. There wasn't any fasteners. It was lovely but impossible to remove, even for him.

"We need to visit Fram."

[Urran]

Anew gracefully walked over and read the application, filling everything out to the letter based on the persona she had been assigned. "Yes, I do intend to stay here, thanks for asking." she said with a cheerful smile. She had never met a German before and eyed him strangely.

[The BranRiech]

"The hell kind of humor is locking us in our clothes?" Bran shook his head. First, he appreciated Fram for giving them the clothes, at least his were better than being nude, which he only liked in bed, or the shower, or more recently, in front of his friends after the Urran trip, and the naked fairy incident (Well, the latter two, he didn't like, but needed to accept)

"What's Celibacy?" He asked. It wasn't a word he ever encountered in English.

"Bran, it means not having sex." Rylli deadpanned, glowering now, at her dress. "We need to see Fram, then?"

[Cerillium]

Anew gracefully walked over and read the application, filling everything out to the letter based on the persona she had been assigned. "Yes, I do intend to stay here, thanks for asking." she said with a cheerful smile. She had never met a German before and eyed him strangely.

His face lifted into a cheerful smile and then dropped back to an expressionless blank slate. He wasn't really meant for socializing. Hans was late, however, so he'd assumed the role of concierge for a moment. It was like asking Scarface to break into a show tune and tap dance.

"Fill out and sign. The key will appear. We don't have a bellhop. You'll need to drag your own bag upstairs."

"The hell kind of humor is locking us in our clothes?" Bran shook his head. First, he appreciated Fram for giving them the clothes, at least his were better than being nude, which he only liked in bed, or the shower, or more recently, in front of his friends after the Urran trip, and the naked fairy incident (Well, the latter two, he didn't like, but needed to accept)

"What's Celibacy?" He asked. It wasn't a word he ever encountered in English.

"Bran, it means not having sex." Rylli deadpanned, glowering now, at her dress. "We need to see Fram, then?"

Ogoti snorted at Bran's question. "Thank you," he whispered to Rylli. He really hadn't wanted to explain it to Bran.

"Yes, Fram. We'll visit him. It shouldn't take too long. He's lurking in the Lair."

He gestured to the stairs that led back to the lobby.

[Cerillium]

Hans, still vibrantly red, cleared his throat and considered the situation and Chrys' question.

The rabbit was familiar (he'd bitten Hans the last time) but bygones could be bygones. He slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of nuts and bolts. Rumor had it that the bunny ate metal. He slipped the fistful onto a napkin and carefully pushed it towards MB.

"No, we can't retire. Our immortality is because we are hosts. We die once the tether to our daemon is permanently severed. The longer one has been a host, the more time they have to put their affairs in order. Usually, not much time. For some, it's instantaneous."

He realized he was prattling. Hans sipped his beer and wiped some frost from the glass with a finger, then turned on his stool to face Chrys. "Thank you for not slapping me. When I said I would sleep with you, I did mean literally. My mind was on the Inn above the tavern, and all of us packed like sardines. I wake up to their faces every day. But, it's also a compliment. We feel vulnerable when we sleep. The host is unconscious and at the whims of whatever is out there. Our daemon can't fully use our senses to perceive the world. To say that I would sleep with you is to say that I trust in your skills enough to feel protected while I slumbered."

He smiled a bit bashfully, something he seldom did (it would have earned him a solid year's mockery from his companions) and added, "Not that I didn't consider the other way that phrase could have been applied, after I'd already said it. I find you absolutely beautiful. But I'm rubbish when it comes to courting the opposite sex. We're War, not Lust. My daemon isn't geared towards lovemaking. It literally crawls out of my skin and retreats to avoid those emotions, which leaves me feeling incredibly vulnerable, more so than if asleep. While enjoying sexual companionship would be nice, it would be like making love to a woman while holding a fragile leash, at the end of which was a small yappy dog attempting to run away. We obviously don't get laid often, but we also don't miss it after a while. Sometimes, after battle, emotional signals get crossed... lust and rage. Then it's good to have a regular female cultist, one like Tipper, around because the activities that follow are just carnal and celebratory. They don't lead to romance and fawning."

His grin faltered. "War's hosts are not allowed to love. We can, but it's forbidden. Maybe that's changed now that Klaus had reclaimed his position? I don't know."

He took in her expression and her endearing features. She had no idea how fortunate she was to be what she was. He didn't resent it. In fact, he was pleased that she had the liberty to do as she pleased. She was free to be effervescent and vibrant and partake in all the world offered. She could love whom she wished, and deserved to be loved by someone who wasn't...

Wasn't what?

Like me.

Hans' jaw set and his face hardened. It was as if the last two days of liberation had been pulled away from him. No, he chose to bury the buoyant feelings she'd rekindled in him. He turned to face the space behind the bar again and gently stroked the top of MB's head. If the rabbit bit him, it bit him. The physical pain would be easier to cope with than the sudden, crushing ache that had seized him when he finally spoke the truth of his situation.

Munching noises sounded in the background, as MB set to nibbling his "tip".

Chrys considered the information carefully. There were some questions, now, swirling around in her head, but Conservators were generally a closed-off sort, and she didn't want to pry for fear of offending Hans. She'd discuss it with Luce later, and maybe Dora, if she was around.

"No worries," she chimed, returning to her usual light tone in an effort to keep her companion's spirits up. She might have been out of practice in dealing with people, but turning away from her was a fairly clear sign. "We're a straightforward bunch. There's no need to fight against our own natures, I think. Even if there were, everything fades eventually, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can. I'm grateful for the compliment, too. I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you in any sense. If I didn't bear this rattlesnake sigil, I might be like your Tipper. It's not as if I mind that sort of treatment." She brushed her index fingertip along the back of his hand, in a gesture whose meaning she didn't know herself.

"Would you mind, my sharing that information with my own Brother?"

MB blinked owlishly in surprise as Hans began petting him. More beer?

"Yes, more beer," Hans' mouth had gone dry. He gave MB's head a final pat. "Thank you, rabbit."

Chrys' touch further pushed Rache from him. The daemon, repulsed by the ache Chrys had invoked with just a fingertip, extended a talon to tether itself before retreating further from the material plain. It wouldn't betray its host; Hans and it had been together too long and survived too many battles to throw their bond away over something as meaningless as human affection. It had seen Chrys' determination in Japan and it appreciated her warrior spirit. She wasn't some simpering slut. It would grant Hans some slack for that.

Hans breathed out a sigh as he felt Rache depart. He impulsively flipped his hand and caught Chrys' own in his calloused palm. His fingers tenderly tightened around hers. "You aren't like one of Lust's mindless cultists. There's a difference between humiliation and domination. There's a difference between rough play and outright abuse."

His head turned and presented a half smile to her. "I enjoy rough. I enjoy the challenge of conquering. We'd have fun, you and I. I wouldn't enjoy crushing your spirit however, or belittling you as a person, and I'd have a difficult time tolerating anyone who'd outright abuse you without your permission. You've earned my respect. We are friends."

She did deserve better than him but he supposed she had plenty of others who felt as he did towards her. What chance would he have in comparison with her fellow Conservators?

"What did you want me to tell your Brother?"

[The BranRiech]

Rylli nodded. She had much better a grasp at English, although Bran was still pretty good too, although his wife's vocabulary might have been a bit bigger. "It's alright." She whispered back, as Bran was looking down at his clothes.

"Yeah, let's go then." He huffed.

The couple got up to follow Ogoti down to the lair. They needed to talk.

[The Great Korean Empire]

Lee who was dressed in a simple change of clothes as he entered into the lobby of the building where he was supposed to move to. There had been reports of unusual demon activity and it was unknown whether it was neutral or not. He had been told to stay around first and settle in before they handed any specific assignments out for him. He stopped at the check-in desk with his luggage and waited to see if anyone would come.

[Cerillium]

Lee who was dressed in a simple change of clothes as he entered into the lobby of the building where he was supposed to move to. There had been reports of unusual demon activity and it was unknown whether it was neutral or not. He had been told to stay around first and settle in before they handed any specific assignments out for him. He stopped at the check-in desk with his luggage and waited to see if anyone would come.

The man in the World War II German uniform glanced up as Lee joined the other newcomer. He adjusted his wire frame glasses, slid an application towards Lee and said, "New tenant? Fill out this application."

Rylli nodded. She had much better a grasp at English, although Bran was still pretty good too, although his wife's vocabulary might have been a bit bigger. "It's alright." She whispered back, as Bran was looking down at his clothes.

"Yeah, let's go then." He huffed.

The couple got up to follow Ogoti down to the lair. They needed to talk.

Ogoti brought them down the door to the Chaos Quarters (passing Lee as they crossed the lobby) and then across the lower foyer to the tiny door that led to the Lair. It had been repainted black and bore a new sign:
This is not a brothel.
There are no prostitutes
at this address.

Ogoti rolled his eyes, poked Bran and Rylli's foreheads (thus marking them so they could enter) and pushed the door open. The staircase, once dark and foreboding, was a gilded nightmare of gold and purple tapestry.

"He's been redecorating," Ogoti sighed as he took the stairs downward.

Gone were Swith's stately furnishings, brazen pit, and altar. Instead, Fram had taken a familiar room and ramped up the opulence to absurd levels. There were hundreds of golden statues (all of them of Fram) lining the walls. The throne itself was large enough to sit five and festooned in purple tapestry, silks and cushions. Exotic daemonettes clustered around the massive seat, tethered to the throne by delicate golden leashes attached to equally exotic collars around their necks; these were in the nude and smiled invitingly at both Bran and Rylli.

"Well, helllllo darlings!" The hedonistic god was sprawled on his throne, legs over one arm and with neck tilted back. A massive nude incubus suspended a cluster of grapes above Fram's head and the god was busy plucking them and eating them one at a time. He lifted his heels and spun himself to be seated properly and stared down at them from his lofty perch.

"Welcome to my palace!"

[The BranRiech]

This ain't Swith's place . . .

Both Bran and Rylli thought as they advanced down the hall. While both admired the beautiful decorations, their political ideology reminded them that this was one of the most disgusting sights they could possibly lay eyes on. Bran, who was also reminded of the Daemonette from the other day, shrugged and looked away, concentrating on the no-doubt lavish ceiling.

Rylli repeated the gesture, not knowing why her husband seemed embarressed, but she'd definitely be asking about it later.

"Hello, Fram." She bowed her head, as she did in all greetings. "We're here about our clothes."

[Torsiedelle]

"Um...yes...then allow me."

Dimitrus took a few steps towards Octavian and cleared her throat. "Um...Octavian? Where is the black-skin? He disappeared before I could come back here."

.........

Katya was starting to turn red with embarrassment. Why was this thing malfunctioning now? This was a disaster. She didn't know how to work with these things. This more a job for Tora.

"Um...uh....Tora!"
"Yea?", Tora called from the hallway.
"TF Gun! Help!"

Torii silently excused herself from her conversation with Tsu, but she would be right back. She ran inside and spoke with her sister in Russian for a few seconds, before Katya handed her the gun.

"Alright, let's see, here...", She mumbled, sitting Indian-Style, and popped the gun open. A few looks at it and Tora thought she knew what was up.

"Ah, I think I know what's wrong. I know that these things can be tinkered with, I've done it, and I'm sure that I can set this back to the default state. Just give me a second."

She pointed the gun away from herself and the others, and dug her fingers inside to mess with the wiring. Katya was biting her lip.

.................

"C'mon...get up..."

Several drunken soldiers hobbled out of the bar. The main Dark Elf, himself, was still half-sober, though not entirely in his mind. A comrade came up at his side.

"Azzie...we have to go back..."
"No, no..."

The kept mumbling for a minute before the other left. He rubbed his forehead and glanced up at the bartender, thinking about his last few hours.

"So, mate...what's the news? And, sorry for the ruckus."

[Tiltjuice]

"Nevermind then . . ."

Drova was very near-drooling at the statue by the time the salesman finished speaking, and he didn't care to stop either, staring at the statue's every detail. He grabbed the hand-trolley (At first confused with how it worked), and loaded the statue onto it to carry inside. Normally, he'd have servants do it for him, maybe with him helping too, but with this device? He could move it without too much strain.

"The corner, right there, it will go."

He wheeled it over to the corner of his room, and set it down so the woman faced his bed for him to admire. Oh! He must commission a statue of himself be built out of the same material to set opposite of Chrys!

But then he realized.

Yuna was still gone, off collecting leaves and such, or so he thought.

The salesman excused himself with a quiet muttering that he needed to be about his business, and walked off, leaving a business card on a table. Closing the apartment's main door behind him, he went off and back down to the lobby, where he sat for a time on the Thinking Bench. A series of notes on the encounter with Drova went into his PDA, and then he eyed the three at the reception desk somewhat curiously.

---

Katya was starting to turn red with embarrassment. Why was this thing malfunctioning now? This was a disaster. She didn't know how to work with these things. This more a job for Tora.

"Um...uh....Tora!"
"Yea?", Tora called from the hallway.
"TF Gun! Help!"

Torii silently excused herself from her conversation with Tsu, but she would be right back. She ran inside and spoke with her sister in Russian for a few seconds, before Katya handed her the gun.

"Alright, let's see, here...", She mumbled, sitting Indian-Style, and popped the gun open. A few looks at it and Tora thought she knew what was up.

"Ah, I think I know what's wrong. I know that these things can be tinkered with, I've done it, and I'm sure that I can set this back to the default state. Just give me a second."

She pointed the gun away from herself and the others, and dug her fingers inside to mess with the wiring. Katya was biting her lip.

Dora just smiled as if she thought nothing big was going on, and began letting her hands move around Katya's shoulders and back.

"There's no need to worry, you know. If things don't work out when Tora pulls that trigger, we can always get another bed."

[Tiltjuice]

Munching noises sounded in the background, as MB set to nibbling his "tip".

Chrys considered the information carefully. There were some questions, now, swirling around in her head, but Conservators were generally a closed-off sort, and she didn't want to pry for fear of offending Hans. She'd discuss it with Luce later, and maybe Dora, if she was around.

"No worries," she chimed, returning to her usual light tone in an effort to keep her companion's spirits up. She might have been out of practice in dealing with people, but turning away from her was a fairly clear sign. "We're a straightforward bunch. There's no need to fight against our own natures, I think. Even if there were, everything fades eventually, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can. I'm grateful for the compliment, too. I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you in any sense. If I didn't bear this rattlesnake sigil, I might be like your Tipper. It's not as if I mind that sort of treatment." She brushed her index fingertip along the back of his hand, in a gesture whose meaning she didn't know herself.

"Would you mind, my sharing that information with my own Brother?"

MB blinked owlishly in surprise as Hans began petting him. More beer?

"Yes, more beer," Hans' mouth had gone dry. He gave MB's head a final pat. "Thank you, rabbit."

Chrys' touch further pushed Rache from him. The daemon, repulsed by the ache Chrys had invoked with just a fingertip, extended a talon to tether itself before retreating further from the material plain. It wouldn't betray its host; Hans and it had been together too long and survived too many battles to throw their bond away over something as meaningless as human affection. It had seen Chrys' determination in Japan and it appreciated her warrior spirit. She wasn't some simpering slut. It would grant Hans some slack for that.

Hans breathed out a sigh as he felt Rache depart. He impulsively flipped his hand and caught Chrys' own in his calloused palm. His fingers tenderly tightened around hers. "You aren't like one of Lust's mindless cultists. There's a difference between humiliation and domination. There's a difference between rough play and outright abuse."

His head turned and presented a half smile to her. "I enjoy rough. I enjoy the challenge of conquering. We'd have fun, you and I. I wouldn't enjoy crushing your spirit however, or belittling you as a person, and I'd have a difficult time tolerating anyone who'd outright abuse you without your permission. You've earned my respect. We are friends."

She did deserve better than him but he supposed she had plenty of others who felt as he did towards her. What chance would he have in comparison with her fellow Conservators?

"What did you want me to tell your Brother?"

Chrys blinked in surprise at Hans' words. For her, a person so used to actions over words (as Jacob and Albert could attest), she felt slightly out of her depth. Even so, they reached her, as did the feeling of his roughened skin on her hand, and she felt warm which, for once, had nothing to do with alcohol.

Without the pause that Dora or Luce would have given, she replied, with a brilliant smile. "I don't doubt that at all. Not that, as I'm sure you would guess, anyone who tried would have considerable trouble doing it. On what to tell Luce - anything you feel comfortable sharing, like what you told me earlier. Or if not, I'd like to bring it up with him."

MB slid another pair of icy-cold beers across the counter at that point, brushing Hans' hand with his whiskers in return for the patting.

"Humiliation. Is that what is in store for Tipper at your celebrations? I don't completely follow."

[Swith Witherward]

This ain't Swith's place . . .

Both Bran and Rylli thought as they advanced down the hall. While both admired the beautiful decorations, their political ideology reminded them that this was one of the most disgusting sights they could possibly lay eyes on. Bran, who was also reminded of the Daemonette from the other day, shrugged and looked away, concentrating on the no-doubt lavish ceiling.

Rylli repeated the gesture, not knowing why her husband seemed embarressed, but she'd definitely be asking about it later.

"Hello, Fram." She bowed her head, as she did in all greetings. "We're here about our clothes."

"Don't you just love them?" He leaned forward and grinned at the pair. "I think they're fabulous. Absolutely so, but that color looks terrible on you."

With a snap of his fingers, the dress changed hue to compliment Rylli's skin, and the flowers phased to match.

"Better, yes." He leaned back on his throne again. "But why are we just standing around? Do pull up a chair!"

There were several there, and all of them gaudy.

[The BranRiech]

Yet again, the dress was changed, both times by the same entity, and for the same reason as well. First it was her scales that looked bad, now it changed to compliment her skin. It was a little more bearable, but not by much. She still couldn't take it off.

"Well, thank you, but . . ."

She didn't know what to say really. The clothes were a gift.

". . . But we can't take the damn things off." Bran finished, tugging at his shirt, trying to take it off.

[Swith Witherward]

Chrys blinked in surprise at Hans' words. For her, a person so used to actions over words (as Jacob and Albert could attest), she felt slightly out of her depth. Even so, they reached her, as did the feeling of his roughened skin on her hand, and she felt warm which, for once, had nothing to do with alcohol.

Without the pause that Dora or Luce would have given, she replied, with a brilliant smile. "I don't doubt that at all. Not that, as I'm sure you would guess, anyone who tried would have considerable trouble doing it. On what to tell Luce - anything you feel comfortable sharing, like what you told me earlier. Or if not, I'd like to bring it up with him."

MB slid another pair of icy-cold beers across the counter at that point, brushing Hans' hand with his whiskers in return for the patting.

"Humiliation. Is that what is in store for Tipper at your celebrations? I don't completely follow."

"I suppose there's no harm in bringing things up with Luce," Hans admitted, although he wasn't entirely certain if that would earn him some flack from Klaus.

He nodded at Mb. "Danke, Rabbit." It took him a moment to realize he was still holding Chry's hand. He rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb and then liberated it so she could finish her drink.

"Well, Conservator Chrys, the night is getting on. I have a feeling our quarry returned to her apartment. We should call it quitting time, ja?"

A small part of him (which was him and not his daemon) demanded that he retract the statement. What excuse could he possibly have for visiting her tomorrow? Would she think he was stalking her? It wasn't his intention to. Still, he felt himself grasping at straws and finally settled on one. "Tomorrow, I will tell you about the Tippers of our group and what I mean by humiliation, if you want?"

---

"Take them off?" Fram was aghast. "Why would you want to do that? They're charming."

He crossed his legs and regarded Bran and Rylli. "Well, I suppose it does limit certain activities, and that's no fun. Not really. Alright, so be it."

He waved his hand and the clothing was gone. That is, the clothing they were wearing was gone. Rylli was now adorned in a racy bra and panties, replete with garters and fishnet stockings. She was six inches taller thanks to her new stiletto, knee heigh leather boots. Bran was wearing nothing but a thong. At least it was orange, but it left little to the imagination. "Those will come off, if the mood is right," he winked at them roguishly.

The writer is fairly sure Ogoti would have face-palmed by now.

[Urran]

Anew picked her heavy bag up with one hand and walked it to her name room. She put the key in the lock and opened it. It looked like a typical college dorm ,couch, TV, single bed, lamp, small kitchen. Great, this was home for now.Tomorrow, her mission began.

[The BranRiech]

"Thank yo-"

Bran trailed off as he suddenly felt much colder, and then much, much warmer when he looked over at Rylli. He then looked down at himself and saw nothing but an orange thong. What the hell!?

As much as he wanted to take it off, it'd probably only amuse Fram further, and he started backing up slowly to leave. Rylli seemed a bit more weird-ed out now, and looked down at herself. She looked like some sort of prostitute, although the sign outside the door was still true, as Rylli was most definitly not a prostitute, despite how much her clothes said otherwise.

It took her a few wobbly (And jiggly, if ya' know) seconds to get used to standing in her boots, but she waited for Ogoti to react first, as they forgot the way out, and didn't feel like they should leave without him.

Bran was cowering right behind her, staring at her now.

"Oh . . ." She rolled her eyes, the shock wearing off.

[Cerillium]

"Thank yo-"

Bran trailed off as he suddenly felt much colder, and then much, much warmer when he looked over at Rylli. He then looked down at himself and saw nothing but an orange thong. What the hell!?

As much as he wanted to take it off, it'd probably only amuse Fram further, and he started backing up slowly to leave. Rylli seemed a bit more weird-ed out now, and looked down at herself. She looked like some sort of prostitute, although the sign outside the door was still true, as Rylli was most definitly not a prostitute, despite how much her clothes said otherwise.

It took her a few wobbly (And jiggly, if ya' know) seconds to get used to standing in her boots, but she waited for Ogoti to react first, as they forgot the way out, and didn't feel like they should leave without him.

Bran was cowering right behind her, staring at her now.

"Oh . . ." She rolled her eyes, the shock wearing off.

Ogoti rubbed his face with a palm. "Fine. Do these," he gestured at their outfits, "come off easily?"

"Threesome? Oh Ogoti, you naughty boy!" Fram squealed and raised his fingers to snap but lowered them when he noticed the glare on the other god's face. "Well, sourpuss. Why are you India set such sticks in the mud? Such sexy accents wasted on such stiff people!"

Without another word, Ogoti grabbed Rylli and Bran by their arms and quickly lead them away before Fram could think of anything more outrageous to do to the trio. He brought them up the stairs, grumbling that Dora was all he needed, and then up the next flight that would lead them to the lobby. He paused on the landing before opening the exit door.

"He said they wouldn't come off until you were in the mood for it. He probably means sex, so go get frisky. Otherwise, you'll be stuck in those," he waved at their attire again, "things until then."

The door cracked open and he stuck his head out. The lobby was somewhat empty except for a War cultist and some stranger (most likely a new tenant) but the stranger had his back to them.

"Right. Coast clear. No one will see you if you hurry."

[The BranRiech]

Oh, the clothes wouldn't be on for long.

That was what Bran was thinking at least, hoping his wife was thinking the same thing, which she was, fortunately. Luckily, sex was quite a good silver lining for being able to take off some shitty clothes. Of course, Rylli planned on keeping them afterwards, and maybe keeping Bran's as well, as a gag or something.

Either way, both of them needed to first get home, and hope Rachelle was already asleep.

They bolted across the hall and nearly dove into their door, shutting it behind them with a mechanical "Whir" like every time before then.

The scene started fading to black right as the door closed, meaning their User is either quite perverted, or simply parking them . . .



. . . Still though, the clothes would be off by morning.

[New Aksarben]

"Um...yes...then allow me."

Dimitrus took a few steps towards Octavian and cleared her throat. "Um...Octavian? Where is the black-skin? He disappeared before I could come back here."

"No idea. He ran off before you were carried off by that guy." Octavian replied, as he continued leaning against the wall, bored. "His name is Drova by the way. He's a prince, so address him by name at least. He may not be human, but he's my friend, so I will not allow people to disrespect him." Octavian then yawned though, with his tail stretching out as he yawned.

"I do know where his room is though, if you really want to get him. He may be there."