atonementlogs | event 003: the potions

Entry tags:

!event

event 003: the potions

Characters: All.

When: April 1st - 30th

Where: Various locations.

Warnings: None. Please put any warnings in the comment subject if it progresses that way!

The weather will continue to be Spring-like for the rest of this month, with the occasional storm or shower here and there. Once again, all citizen's will be alerted to go to the center of Penance to see about their punishment for the month of April!

As usual, a tent has been set up with plenty of food and drink set up on tables, with another one off to the corner containing letters addressed to each citizen, along with bottles of potion for each. Each person is invited to take a bottle and either drink it now, slip it to someone else, or saved it for later.

The effects are described as being random. The person who consumes the liquid may see the ghost of someone they've harmed in the past that will follow them around, screaming their sins to all around. It mayse severe, nearly deadly pain. It may take away one of the taker's senses, whether it's sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste, or even all of them.

If citizens would rather go another route, they are free to make use of the Sin Lounge and deliver torture or pain to each other.

For those eager for more, citizens may take as many punishments as they want during the month!

With their new letter collected, it is time for all to decide their new punishment and face it bravely!

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[Ianchus finally steels his strength and rolls over, then sits up carefully, marveling at how the memory of the pain is stronger than the pain itself. His limbs can move again, and his sense of balance has righted itself. He checks his stomach again--just a couple of dots!--and then turns to Jezebel, holding a hand out, wiggling his fingers.]

I want to see it.

[Jezebel looks bemused for a moment, with the way Ianchus demands the rod like a child wanting to look at a new toy. Perhaps if this had been several minutes ago, he'd understand, but after it had just knocked him to floor?

Still, he hands it over, no questions asked, handle held out to Ianchus.
Once he takes it, he shifts back slightly in case Ianchus errantly discharges it at him.]

[He takes it, marveling at how light it is, feeling the plastic grip.]

It's...lighter than I thought.

[Pointing the prongs up, he thumbs the button and then presses down, jumping a little as the electricity crackles to life. Being startled causes him to release it a moment, and then he presses down again, holding it down, watching the electricity closely now. It's just like lightning from storms, but in miniature.

Letting go of the button he cautiously touches one of the prongs, ever so lightly with a finger. It's hot, not hot enough to burn, and seems to be cooling.

For an insane moment, he imagines just jabbing the prongs into his forearm and holding the button down.]

[Jezebel watches him, curious. In a way, he does understand Ianchus' fascination. He's never seen anything like it before, either, and he at least has the benefit of having seen electricity at work before. But still, he's never seen it like this, carted around in something so small, so easily used.

But he also knows his interest is probably not entirely the same as Ianchus'.]

Mm, be careful. I imagine it would terrible to gain your exit from this room only to cook your insides a moment later.

You're a positively jolly man, aren't you, Doctor.

[But that doesn't seem like a very desirable outcome, and after a couple more presses of the button (oh, but he wants to stick his finger into the stream so badly, though he knows it won't end well), he offers it back to Jezebel.]

May I ask a rather morbid question?

Welcome to purgatory. I imagine you'll not be seeing any jolly souls anytime soon.

[He says those words good-naturedly enough, accepting the prod back easily. At Ianchus' question, however, his expression is slightly warier, though he does answer:] If you'd like.

Which did you prefer?

[He nods to the prod, then to their old friend the whip up on the wall.]

...Between the two.

[He smiles slightly at that.]

Truthfully, hard to say.

[Nodding at the whip and the Scavenger's Daughter, he adds:]

Those are more familiar. I would not necessarily say that is a point in their favor. But I know how to use them well, and use them effectively. This little toy from today, that's a whole new experience.

[Unspoken is the fact that he's had the prior two inflicted on himself, leaving a sour taste to holding them. The prod is at least a clean slate for him.]

[It's true, familiarity isn't always a positive. Sometimes it brings back memories that are preferred forgotten.

He knows the whip, he can understand the Scavenger's Daughter, he doesn't know the electric prod, but all are a new experience physically.

But, hard or not, Jezebel hasn't answered his question!]

And...?

[He lets out a small laugh at Ianchus' insistence on an answer, then looks down at the rod of metal still in his hands, idly toying with it in his fingers.]

I suppose this little novelty, then. Quite the new experience, seeing how people inflict pain in the years ahead of mine. [Besides, it brought no baggage with it, outside of whatever he might have inflicted himself.]

Well.

[He gives a look to the wall, eyes sweeping over the masses of tools.]

I hope next time you find something else that tickles your fancy.

[His disdain is audible, and it's almost comedic considering how he's been absolutely slavering over the other implements--how he had even been excited about the prod at first.]

[He does grin at that, because, well, there was Ianchus' slavering over the rest, but also his clear preference for some of the other torturous devices on the walls.]

Well, given how often we find ourselves here, I imagine there'll be time to try out a variety of others.

[The one thing he can say about tonight's toy is at least it hasn't left him as weak as the whip did. He can even escort himself home--incredible.]

Mmm. The Sin Lounge's business is booming, isn't it.

[Ianchus stands and stretches himself luxuriously, then examines his wrists--he keeps forgetting until they sting lightly, reminding him of their rawness.]

I suppose I'll be taking my leave, for now. But let me know if you're interested in more... [a wave of the hand] ...experimentation.

[He's certainly playing with fire here. Or playing with electricity, as it were.]

[Jezebel is quiet for a second, musing over an answer before he says:]

And what exactly did you have in mind?

[And he knows he's playing with fire, too, though of a different sort than Ianchus. For whatever it's worth, he's been relatively sincere about doing what this place has asked of him, behaving and doing what he's supposed to in order to get a second chance. Everything about this room, though, is exactly the sort of vices he indulged in while alive, fueling every ugly aspect of himself.

Yet, still -- that feeling of control steadies him. And he hasn't done anything that wasn't required of him or requested of him. Ianchus has been more than clear with what he wants. He'd only be obliging him what he desired, after all.]

[The hair on the back of his neck stands up at Jezebel's response. He feels like the tone isn't much different than the doctor's usual calm tone, but somehow, there's a certain weight to it. Jezebel isn't just playing along with his own act of hedonism-masked-as-generosity. It feels like a move of his own.

He turns back to Jezebel, a spark in his eyes, trying not to let the (obscene!!) excitement show.]

...Is there something that would please the Good Doctor?

[Ah, has the electricity fried his nerves, or has the air in the room become quite warm?]

[He almost smiles then -- even if Ianchus does his best to keep his excitement hidden, it's still clear to him that it's there.

(And even that fits into that sense of control, being able to say a few words and catch someone's attention. It's all so very unhealthy, probably, but why resist when it was all wanted?

There's a pause as Jezebel lets his eyes flicker to Ianchus' neck briefly, before looking back to meet his gaze.]

You seemed rather disappointed that I didn't strangle you earlier.

[Ianchus is already picturing it in his mind, the way Jezebel's slim, pale hands would wrap around his neck, the cold pads of his thumbs just under his adam's apple, that delicate turn of the wrists, long fingers sinking into his flesh--

He has to snap himself out of it, he knows he's getting ahead of himself. He resists the urge to wipe his mouth, and takes a few steps towards Jezebel. His smile is easy, but it feels desperate to him.]

You seemed quite eager, only to pull away at the last moment. It felt like a job left incomplete.

[Jezebel grins at that, seeing the almost trance-like look Ianchus wears when he must be imagining it. When he steps closer to him, Jezebel says with a knowing tone:]

Mm, well, it didn't seem wise. Not in here, anyway. Not when the whole idea is suffering, after all.

After all, if we were both so eager, I'm sure this place wouldn't be satisfied by that...

[At that, he raises on hand to Ianchus' neck, lightly running the pad of his thumb down the line of his throat until it rests in the hollow of his clavicle.

And then withdraws his hand only to say:]

But perhaps we should leave this room while we're still allowed to make our exit.

[Tease!!!

Ianchus rubs his own neck, snapped out of his trance, giving Jezebel an overtly-patronizing look. But he's clearly still amused, clearly still interested, and he steps back, holding his arm out in a mocking gesture.]

After you, then, sir.

[Ah...

He can still feel that cold circle of the thumbpad.]

[Jezebel's grin grows a little wider at that, but he doesn't comment on either the trance or the put-out expression on Ianchus' face. Instead he simply shrugs and says:]

Very well.

[And then walks out of the bar with a purposeful stride, crossing through the Sin Lounge without a glance until he's outside in the street.]

[Ianchus takes a moment to retrieve his shirt from the spiked chair, putting it back on before exiting. He had been planning to leave it behind, but, well--if he's going to be in good company, he may as well be decent.

Perhaps he'll need to take it off again.

He follows Jezebel into the warm air, feeling a resurgence of energy despite how late it is.]

[Jezebel waits outside, standing casually when Ianchus makes his exit, in spite of the crackle of tension that's seared their interaction.

When Ianchus walks out after him, he turns to him and says easily:]

If we're to do this, it might make more sense to go to your home, rather than mine. I've had people stop by my home for assistance in the past, and I would hate for someone to spot or hear something and misinterpret.

Ah! A tragic misunderstanding and our dear doctor is found not just a sinner, but a mad sinner, yes?

[He laughs at that--He's read something about that, too, it had been one of the things he'd thought back to when he'd asked Jezebel--

--well.]

Perhaps my humble dwelling would please you, then.

[Not that his home is in the best condition for company, currently, but it'll have to do. He's in a good mood and there are much more important things.]

Exactly. I'd much rather not be accused of trying to start a murder spree among the damned, if it's all the same.

[If he's going to be accused of that, he'd much rather it be the ones he actually did, after all.]

Oh, I imagine your home will be more than satisfactory.

[He says it with a small, knowing smile. And don't worry about the cleanliness of your house, Ianchus, he's probably seen so much worse.]

[Ianchus leads Jezebel to his home--when he'd claimed it he didn't know it was so close to the Sin Lounge, but now, it seems like a very convenient arrangement.

He opens the door and beckons him in.]

Pardon the mess. I wasn't aware I would be having company.

[Oh, it's not dirty. But there are bottles and glasses on the counters, in different states of fullness. Plates with pits and stems hint as to what he's been eating--somehow, the little store in Penance is always stocked with fruit, though there are no deliveries.

The lair of his bedroom is dominated by the bed, books and sheets scattered on top of it (another glass by the bedside table, another on a plate on the bed). On a chair in the corner is rather expensive-looking, yet functional, armour and a sword, with a white cape draped over the back.]

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cw: self harm mention

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cw: strangulation

cw: strangulation

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