come_sailaway | mood in my tomb red moon heavy [OPEN & CLOSED]

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mood in my tomb red moon heavy [OPEN & CLOSED]

Who: Siffleur, Daisy, Jack Bioshock and you
What: Catch-all
Where: Quarters, Tommy Bahamas and Mikabo sushi bar
When: Early November
Warnings: Violence, gore, cannibalism, suicidal ideation, aggressive flirtations & sex

1. Home Sweet Home (cabin - closed to Daisy)

Siffleur goes back to the cabin maybe twice a week at most. It’s where the shower is, which is something he has gotten used to and enjoys. He can keep himself clean, but hot water works out the knots nicely.

Someone else moved in last week. Their scent is less than human, heavy and musky, and it’s taken a great deal of restraint from him not to ruin their things. But this isn’t his place - his place is in the Tommy Bahamas and he’s content to stay there most of the time. So far, he’s been lucky enough to enter the room when the other person isn’t in.

Today, he’s not so lucky, and as he opens the door, he’s hit with an even stronger version of her smell. He grunts to himself and steps inside, closing the door behind him as he finally gets a look at his roommate.

Siffleur pauses and tips his head to the side as he gets a good look at her human shaped form. “Hmm. Shapechanger, werewolf, something else?”

2. Life Is One Long Weekend! (Tommy Bahamas - open)

Outside the Tommy Bahamas is a large posterboard and a sign-up sheet with a pen on a string, and a selection of brightly coloured armbands made from various items within the Tommy Bahamas. Block letters in thick sharpie offer an explanation:

TIKTOK CHALLENGE: SURVIVE 1 HOUR IN TOMMY BAHAMAS
MUST WRITE DOWN NAME AND TIME STARTED AND WEAR ARMBAND TO PARTICIPATE
WINNER GETS TO PET A COUGAR
LOSERS AGREE TO BE EATEN

There’s no sign of Siffleur. He’s somewhere inside, waiting.

((additional rules here))

3. Tommy Bahamas Is for Lovers (Tommy Bahamas - closed to Jack)

Somewhere, over one of the various repeating men’s sections, Siffleur is bedded down in a selection of various throws. It’s comfortable and enclosed up at the top of the shelves, and he’s about to settle into a lull when a somewhat familiar scent comes to him.

It’s the man from the aftermath of the Halloween party. He raises his head, feeling a thrum of excitement. Siffleur slinks out of his hiding spot and makes his way along the tops of the shelves and racks, until he comes across the man.

Siffleur sits and waits, watching him and deciding his best point of attack.

4. greedy little kitty (Mikabo sushi bar - Open)

A regular at the sushi restaurant, Siffleur can be found sitting on a stool at the counter with a scattering of plates in front of him and around him on the floor. As always, he sits in his cougar form, content to paw selections off the belt and lap them up before discarding the plate.

Other entering passengers may get looked at, but not for long. After all, there’s always more sushi to eat. And perhaps most infuriatingly, he’s set up at the first position, so he always gets his first pick of the best sushi. If there’s a piece you want, you might have to speak up first.

5. Wildcard

As always, DM me to discuss.

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Once again, his instincts come through despite his best attempt to shut them out. Pale human-shaped statues moving, even slightly, is enough to make Jack turn before he's even aware of the reason for it, which means at least he's facing the danger when it slams into him.

Another small blessing is that the shirt he was holding up is now draped over the head of the attacking thing, which buys Jack a second unseen for his other reflex to kick in:

As he hits the floor hard and a grunt grinds through his teeth, his veins light up blue, and the hand he claps against the mountain lion's ribs is sparking with electricity when it connects.

There's a flash of blue and the unfamiliar agony of electricity as it runs through his body. He screams, and the ship doesn't seem to know what to do with it, the human and cougar sounds fading in and out. Siffleur's heart beats erratically and he spasms, bringing his teeth to bear on the man's shoulder and biting down hard.

This is everything he could have hoped for and more - a real fight with something as deadly as him.

What a surprise, the loose shirt thrown over the cougar's head wasn't enough to stop it from biting. And it bites.

Jack screams, feeling the grind of bone in his shoulder, his body automatically trying to pull away from it even though he's trapped against the floor -

And at the same time, his fingers curl and he tries to draw up another charge of electricity, anything to keep the cougar from biting him anywhere else while his other hand tries to find his holster.

There's blood and cloth and flesh in his teeth, though he can only feel the flesh instead of tasting it, with the cloth in the way of things. It's warm and wonderful and only excites him more. Even though he can smell his flesh cooking where it was run through with electricity, he only delights in the violence.

The man screams and Siffleur laughs, a very human sound muffled by the teeth still dug into the man's shoulder. But the point here isn't to kill - it's to fight, and he pulls back, shaking his head side to side to whip off the t-shirt.

"You're delightful." Siffleur says with admiration as his eyes finally get clear of the shirt-

And he's quick to lunge for the hand reaching for a weapon, slamming one paw down on the man's arm and digging his claws in to keep it pinned. A gun will end all their fun too quickly.

The voice is familiar, where'd he hear it before? That nags at Jack even through the pain. Is anything broken? Fuck, he'll figure it out later.

The claws in his arm get another drawn out noise, but they're not as bad as the shoulder-bite, fuck. He can endure that better, enough to breathe through it, enough to squint at the talking big cat on him. The smart thing to do would be to switch to Incinerate, or maybe to - to find something to use telekinesis on, draw something over to use as a distraction or stab him with or something.

"Glad I'm not boring." he says instead in a tense and distant voice.

Edited 2022-11-10 05:07 (UTC)

Siffleur laughs and licks his lips, his muzzle stained with the man's blood. "Yes. Much better than boring. Much tastier."

He looms over the man, parting his mouth and showing his teeth. Siffleur's eyes all but sparkle. He's ready to tear into him again - but he has a question first, and the answer will change how Siffleur chooses to fight. "Will my bite scar like the spiral did?"

Another beautiful opening for attack, but Jack just furrows his brow at the cat. Where did he hear him before? The scar talk is familiar too, fuck it's right at the tip of his tongue.

"Uh... No, it won't. Unless coming back works the same here as it did back home." Jack tells him.

And he lets the lion think about that for a second before he jams a red hot finger into his side, as close to his armpit as he can get it, or somewhere similarly soft or sensitive.

Siffleur tips his head, a question on the tip of his tongue as he's about to ask the man more about what exactly 'coming back' meant exactly, but it's quickly quashed as he gets jabbed with something burning hot right into his armpit. The fur scorches and he screams, flinching away from the burning fingertips.

Flinching means he's not pinning the man down, which means Siffleur has to move and do so quickly, before he can get shot. He dodges straight into a rack of clothing and out the other side, scaling another display and darting just out of the line of sight.

He licks his wound a few quick times, his flanks twitching a few times in agitation at the lingering pain. And from behind the lettering telling the store to TAKE IT EASY, he speaks. "How did it work 'back home'? This is the first time I have been anywhere that death was not permanent."

Fuck, finally he can breathe without an entire mountain lion on his body. Jack lies on the floor panting, and then tries to reach for his gun again, just to see how everything is moving and working. The answer is: not great. Paint lances up and down his arm as he puts his hand on the handle of his pistol, and if he were, say, in a shootout with half-a-dozen or more enemies and precision wasn't a concern, he'd be fine. Getting stalked by a semi-wild animal, unfortunately, is going to require more care and attention than his bite and claw wounds will allow.

So, alright, he lets his arm rest on the floor, braces himself, and carefully flips himself over. By then, he can hear the mountain lion speaking again, so he keeps the conversation going as he gets his knees and feet under him.

"Oh, y'know... I'd feel myself die, it'd go cold and dark, there'd be a rush of air, and I'd wake up in this vita-chamber." Jack explains very casually, like this is relatable, as he reaches behind him with his good arm.

As a big fucking asshole once told him, he doesn't need weapons.

One of the knocked-over mannequins zooms to his hand, hovering with it while he gets to his feet and looks around for movement.

"A lot of the time, whatever killed me left a scar." he says, and shrugs his good shoulder. "Sorry if that's less impressive."

"Why would it be less impressive?" Siffleur carefully approaches the side of the display, peeking out at the man. A mannequin levitates near him and Siffleur twitches his whiskers at the sight. He truly is talented. "You still gained those scars through battle. And anything that would leave a mark that large must have been truly monstrous to face."

He quickly leaps from the display, lunging down into the racks of clothes and stalking through them. And though he shouldn't keep talking, he wants to. This man fascinates him. "I would have liked to see you fight it. You should tell me the story, when we are done our own battle."

Jack legitimately pauses as he's told his death-scars are impressive whether or not he lived through them. Huh.

"Really?"

But he's not completely lacking focus, despite how this fight started. As the mountain lion talks, he starts to zero in where the voice is coming from, turning more towards it as it moves.

He hears the thump of the landing, sees motion from swaying fabric and displaced hangers, but all of it only evidence of something having passed, not of the mountain lion's current position. Jack keeps scanning, trying to find an end to the trail of movement to watch out for, trying to pinpoint that best spot to point the mannequin towards while they chat.

"Yeah? Maybe I will. Hey, when are we calling our battle done, anyway?" Jack asks. "Is it until one of us surrenders? Time limit? Or are you going to kill me and we'll just pick this conversation back up tomorrow?"

It'd be good to know what expectations he's trying to meet, here.

"Of course." He slides into one of the racks to peek through a number of sundresses, watching Jack turn - and the mannequin turn with him. It's mesmerizing. How many other powers does he have?

"That is a good question. We did not establish that when I invited you here." Siffleur says, and quickly moves to another set of racks, knowing that as long as he answers Jack, he can't stay in place. "Not to the death this time. We still need to fuck afterwards. Let us say to whoever surrenders first, or until half an hour passes."

He jumps up through the centre of the rack, scattering clothes and hangers everywhere as he runs full-tilt at Jack, tensed and ready to dodge.

Jack is getting closer to tracking where the mountain lion is, who Jack is starting to place as someone in the promenade when the party crashed through the floor. He's pretty sure he almost as a face for the voice too, which raises interesting questions that all go flying out of his head the second he hears 'we still need to fuck'.

"Wha-?" Jack says, and in another echo of that night, he lets go of the mannequin.

It flies off like his thoughts, ricocheting in pieces off the floor where the cat might have been a moment before.

Jack can't scramble for a response, especially with the cat making another run at him. He jogs backwards and with a split-second of thought, he throws his arm forward and yanks the rack the cat just knocked over towards them both.

It accelerates slower than the mannequin, but still catches up to the mountain lion from behind, tangling him up at least if it doesn't hit solidly.

Siffleur barely needs to doge the mannequin at all and he's gaining ground fast, mouth opening wide as he coils his muscles and whips his tail straight up for his jump-

And instead gets absolutely wrecked as he's engulfed in a rack full of clothes that cause him to slip out. He trips, slamming on the floor and ending up entangled by a mess of floral prints. He curses and struggles to raise himself up, clanging his head into the rack that he's now embedded in.

It slows him down, and it's far too long before he manages to shake himself free in a shower of plastic hangers.

"Oh shit, that worked." Jack says to himself, and he finds himself needing to decide what to do with a flailing big cat that absolutely is going to try -- well, actually, no, he's not going to kill him, apparently.

Just maim him a little more, possibly, and he's fine with just his shoulder as it is.

By the time Siffleur gets back on his paws, Jack has disappeared into another aisle of clothes. He's not going to be hard to find, however, not with the trail of blood or with his answer.

"We might have more like twenty minutes, depending on the performance you want." Jack calls from behind a display shelf/table piled high with clothes and full and half-bodied mannequins.

Uh, he didn't meant that to sound like it was about fucking. But, well, it's kind of the same amount of physical activity, probably.

Siffleur's ears twitch in the direction of the voice and he walks away from the pile of clothes and hangers with the wounded dignity only a cat can possess. "I am hardly disappointed by your performance yet. You're as clever as you are durable. I look forward to seeing if all of you tastes as good as your blood did."

He scans the nearby area, trying to find him among the various displays and stacks of clothes and posed mannequins. Finally, he spots something pink among the plain mannequins, and he quickly darts back into cover. Going straight at the man is too dangerous, so he heads around, aiming to come up on him from behind.

Unfortunately for Siffleur, he isn't the first one who ever took that approach to Jack, so as he draws his wrench (something that needs less precision than aiming and shooting a gun), he turns himself, putting the display to his side as he keeps his eyes on his surroundings.

"Oh, it's not being disappointing I'm worried about, it's just been awhile since I died of blood loss, so I'm iffy on how long it'll take me to pass out." Jack says.

He doesn't just have his eyes out for the cat, he's on the lookout for anything like those rolling racks of clothes that he can drag over for another projectile, but unfortunately from his position it's more sturdy circular racks or flimsy mannequins. Hm.

"Though, hey, about that with the blood, I wouldn't eat too much of it if I were you." he adds.

He's not sure how serious this guy is about literally eating him, but he's letting him know about the GMO label anyway, just in case.

There's a laugh from the racks, Siffleur giving away his position just to let Jack know he's funny. "I believe you can go the distance." He teases back, even as he moves slowly and methodically from rack to rack, watching Jack's head as he turns to follow Siffleur's voice.

He's been told by many not to eat them, and once told that their flesh might taste terrible, but this is the first time the warning has come as a health and safety risk. Siffleur swishes his tag with excitement and agitation, choosing to move up to the high ground, darting in full view for a moment as he leaps onto a display and knocks over the mannequins, and then leaps again into the upper reaches of the displays, hiding himself behind one of the 'summer fun' sections full of surfboards and beach chair.

From safety, he calls back- "Will it kill me? That's hardly a problem here."

If Jack's face is warm, it's because - fuck it, he doesn't know. Maybe some part of him still likes praise, even though he should know better.

He follows the movement, watching the space the cougar disappeared through. If he tips his head right, he can see a sliver of him between the display surfboards, like they're the ridiculously large bars of a cage.

"I don't think so, or not immediately." Jack says, keeping his eye on that spot, wondering what his action will be next, and also how he can explain this to a cat-man.

"The, uh, drugs that gave these powers might still be in my system, and those drugs are addictive and have some pretty destructive withdrawal effects."

Assuming, again, that there's a big enough trace for that to be a problem in the first place, but Jack would rather neither of them find that out, thanks.

A moment of silence as Siffleur considers this, followed by a somewhat giddy laugh as he realizes what Jack means. "I see. A fair worry. But if I begin to feel a craving for your flesh that goes beyond what is normal for me, I will kill myself instead."

Drug addiction isn't something he's interested in cultivating, and while he can't be certain, he feels sure that whatever the affects Jack's body might have, they won't be permanent.

"Or, I will ask you to kill me if I am too weak to do so." A fair offering, he's certain. And with a tease, he says - "You can eat me as well, if you wish."

He tenses and leaps above the surfboards, arching through the air in the hopes of catching Jack offguard and tackling him to the ground.

"W- I wouldn't know where to-" start cooking a cougar, Jack almost says, interrupted by said cougar flying at him and his own body moving before his mouth stops.

Jack pivots on his foot to the side, swinging his wrench in the same motion. He feels it impact, but he also feels the protest of his torn up arm and shoulder at the same time, nearly buckling to one knee. Which is worse than if he'd actually dropped down, because now he's in pain and with an unstable stance, fantastic.

Siffleur takes the impact and he feels that crunch as bone breaks. The force of Jack's wrench throws of his leap too, and so as Jack is forced onto his back foot, Siffleur hits the ground with only two firm paws, the back two skidding to catch up. The pain radiates all through his body, red-hot pulses and he turns to slam into Jack's legs, knocking him over.

"Truce." He says, and slams all of his weight down on Jack's body. "Or surrender."

Siffleur can keep going, but any more injuries would make the next planned activity difficult for both of them, especially since Siffleur isn't sure where Jack's pain threshold is. It seems fairly high though and some other time, they'll push it to the limit.

Jack shouts in pain as he's hit by hundreds of pounds of cougar and then the floor, neither of which his shoulder and arm appreciate. His wrench is loose in his grip and his face is screwed up in pain as he pants through his teeth, and after a longer breath in, he squints up at the cougar.

"Truce sounds good." Jack says, having just enough pride not to surrender.

Edited 2022-11-24 18:16 (UTC)

"We should do that to the death another time, when we are both fully prepared." And with Jack still pinned underneath him, Siffleur drops his head to lick a few times at the shoulder wound, tasting Jack's blood. There is something slightly off about the taste, but not unpleasantly so.

He lifts his head, and gives one of Jack's cheeks a lick too, his rough tongue leaving a swipe of spit along Jack's face. "Do you heal on your own, or would you like some first aid?"

Jack starts to think of a sarcastic way of dismissing that offer, but as the idea lingers on his mind, he thinks of the burn in his muscles, the sharp pain of injury, the resistance of impact, the thrill of intercepting an attack, of turning the tables - the feeling of regaining control, of doing something he's good at, of being able to let go and just act-

So, unbelievably, even with a large predator lapping up his blood, Jack says "Sounds like a date."

Speaking of which, Jack considers it for a second and then shakes his head. There's nothing on his agenda tonight, nothing pressing to justify using up the contents of his Rapture first aid kit. Anyway, what's the worst that happens? He dies and comes back in a few hours instead of immediately? In his own room, at that?

"I don't bounce back without help, but I don't die easy." Jack tells him, tipping his head in lieu of shrugging. "So. A bit of a patch job would be nice."

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oh right cw for violence, blood, mauling and who knows what else going forward!

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