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Sep 18, 2021 10:43 PM
A Caden and a Zeke in Citrouille.
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“Salutations,” says the woman next to him, it being her turn. “Call me Leah. I did read that paper, and it was as abominable and poorly thought out as an octopus painting with nine legs and ten eyes - your p-values were high, your conclusion was excessively strong, and you were obviously operating off of preconcieved notions of mathematical regularity instead of actually formulating a hypothesis by looking at the data -“

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“Leah, dear, you know that my conclusions were perfectly justified - just because they disagree with your outdated paradigms of inherent mystery -“

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“Your ‘conclusions’ were as inherently justified as someone who murdered their grandmother because she forgot to pass the salt, and my models acknowledge an element of inherent randomization that your models completely neglect -“

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“- so!” interrupts sole male redhead in the room. “Not that the kinky nerd foreplay isn’t sexy as fuck, but I’m going to have to interrupt. I’m Bradley Jojoba, and I’m suuuper interested in whether the mated couples in the room are poly, because damn, talk about sex appeal? Not that I don’t want to shoot the breeze with the unmated guys in the room, but priorities first.”

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“I,” says Alexander, “am going to fuck whoever I want, and I may or may not let someone else fuck my lovely, if they beg very, very prettily.”

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“See, I would contradict that statement, but it turns out that my mate is a dick, and I’m pretty sure he would do something serious and regrettable if I actually followed through. And keeping it a secret would be impossible, given that Empire law makes it explicitly legal for mated vampires to constantly accompany their mates, and vise versa, and since my mate is a dick, he intends to exploit this fact. I nevertheless do not acknowledge him as having any genuine authority over my movements or actions.”

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“You’ll learn to love being kept and protected and adored, my lovely,” says Alexander, moving a hand and petting Jamie’s hair.

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Jamie doesn’t physically react to this in any way, barring a shift in facial expression.

”Fuck you.”

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Alexander says nothing, and continues petting him.

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Barbara, having been previously engrossed in wallowing in self pity, actually bothers looking in their direction. She looks... different. More serious, more composed, less ‘drunkard’ and more ‘powerful witch’.

 

“... Jamie, doll? Tell me if you ever want ‘im dead or out of the picture, for a while. I’m a first circler, I am, and I have experience in killing pricks.

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Jamie smiles.

“I don’t want him dead or out of the picture,” he says, “yet.”

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Alexander removes his hand.

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“Uh,” says Zeke, eventually. “That was definitely a thing. Not super sure how to react to it? Man, I thought that my thing with Caden had a dysfunctional start - I’m Zeke, and I’m fine with Caden having sex with other guys so long as I’m there with him, and I don’t think we talked about when he’d be comfortable with me having sex with other people?”

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“Um, hello, I’m Caden! - and I don’t think that I mind? I might want you to avoid drinking blood from other people, but not if it’d be a serious inconvenience, it’d just be nice to have something - private?”

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“I think that anyone else’s would be, like, super unsatisfying, now,” says Zeke. “No problem.”

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“... not gonna touch the creepy possessiveness shit with a ten foot pole or with my dick,” he says, gesturing at Alexander and Jamie, “but that was adorable and I wanna have a threesome with you.”

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“... I would also have some interest and some stake in such activities,” says a man wearing entirely too much gold. “Provided I may taste of you. I am Nathaniel.”

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“Dude, like, honestly, same,” says the fellow next to him, elbowing him and sitting more upright. “Though I’m not a vamp, so we prob’ have different meanings of ‘taste’ in mind? - I’m Trevor.”

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“Do not touch me.”

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“Sure.”

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“ - I have a staring contest with the eternal void penciled in for six, an appointment with my inner demons penciled in for seven, a slow descent into the throes of madness penciled in for eight, and I still don’t know whether I’m going to use up my guest pass on my lack of self esteem or my untamed self loathing! I’d like to get a move on. I’m Winnifred - do let’s get this nonsense over with and then bring on the wild orgies, shall we? You!” she says, staring intensely at one of the people who haven’t spoken yet. “Tell the class your name and your first pet. Was it a chicken? You look like the sort of person who should have a pet chicken, I bet it was named Bertha.”

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“It’s bloody well time, kept waiting for a chance but everyone kept blabberin’ on about their cocks, I at least keep my wankin’ in private - and nay, actually, I prefer my chicken plucked ‘n charred, thank you kindly. I had a turtle, and then a wolfdog, and then I didn’t have a turtle for very long. An m’name’s Reagan.”

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“That’s so sad,” says Winnifred, unconvincingly. “My poor, itsy bitsy little heart, it breaks - the woe! - the pathos! - the existential crisis on the nature of consumerism! - now, girl with that fabulous outfit, tell us all about how much you played with dolls when you were little.”

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“I refuse to participate in this fundamentally imperialistic farse,” she says. “The Empire may take my homeland, may take my life, may bind me in chains of indoctrination disguised as academia, but it cannot take - ”

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