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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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."

"Let me get some things to help." He eases his bulk off of Jack after one more lick, and then pushes himself upright as he transforms. Jack's never heard the usual sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing so he won't notice that the sound is slightly off as one of those broken ribs proves a little troublesome mid-transformation and Siffleur gags as the bones press into some tender organs.

He sorts himself out and comes back with one of his make-shift supply kits, and a rapidly forming bruise on his chest, moving quicker than it has any right to. Siffleur's fully human at this point (and naked, because why bother with clothing you're about to ditch anyway) and he squats down beside Jack as he opens up the packing pouch and gets out some of the strip bandages he's made out of some of the many Hawaiian shirts, and four little cologne bottles.

"I'll heal on my own." Siffleur tells Jack, getting to work on his wrist first since it's the most inconvenient. He dumps part of a cologne bottle on the wound, but it's not the expected seabreeze themed men's scent that fills the air, but the unmistakable scent of vodka. Siffleur starts wrapping the arm nice and tight. "As long as I eat well and don't fight again, it goes quickly for me. Two days, maybe three."

"Grnnnngh-" Jack grunts through a clenched jaw as his arm gets a vodka cleanse. Been a long time since he felt that, from back before he gave up treating his wounds between firefights.

He finally opens his eyes again, having closed them since the big cat started licking his face, squinting up at him in his man-shape (and keeping his gaze at shoulders and above). For how violent that transformation sounded, the man looks alright now.

And yeah, that's the guy from the promenade, but Jack mostly figured that out by now.

"Huh." He says, and gives it thought. "You know, I might be wrong about myself. I don't think I actually have stayed injured long enough to heal the slow way."

Since they're talking about this, and the big cat knows already - "Everything went back to normal whenever I came back to life."

"Handy. I like that it let you keep the scars." He tucks the end of the makeshift bandage into itself, makes sure it won't slip, and then sets a hand on Jack's stomach. There's layers of fabric in the way, but Siffleur knows exactly where that spiral is. "This one especially."

Siffleur hands him one of the other bottles of cologne-replaced-with-vodka before giving himself a quick check-over. There's the broken rib, and the burn from the electricity up his side, but neither that need bandaging or disinfecting. With himself sorted, he looks at Jack's remaining issues, and instead of bandaging Jack's bite, he just leans in to give it another lick, poking at the bits of torn flesh with his tongue.

Despite how much blood has splattered around the floor of their battleground, Jack still has enough in him to heat up his face when he feels Siffleur's hand on his stomach.

Needless to say, Jack downs the cologne-vodka shot the second it's handed to him, regardless of if Siffleur meant for it to go in his shoulder or not.

Given where his mouth goes next, 'or not' apparently was the answer, and with the vodka just barely down when it happens, Jack half-chokes, half-coughs.

It's the feeling of his tongue on the raw edges of his wounds and the sting that comes with it, but it's also the personal space. It's also...

It's also just the attention focused on him. He can't come up with a time, real or manufactured, where he was the subject of this much personal interest, let alone the type of it.

So, uh, Jack tries to get a handle on his coughing, at least enough to speak.

"You - you do this with a lot of guys?" he rasps out.

Siffleur chuckles low in his chest and lets his teeth nip a little over the flesh. It's very tempting to dig these teeth into the marks his other teeth made, over extend his jaw to fit the jaw shape, and to bite, twist, tear, fill his mouth with flesh, blood, to chew slowly and to feel the texture of those bits of raw flesh as they turn into a pulp, to swallow it down and feel it fill his stomach-

Another time. He can settle with just the slightest texture of Jack between his teeth, the taste of blood on his tongue.

"Hunted a lot of men for spot. Fucked a lot of men for pleasure. Rarely overlapped the two." He spots a scar peeking just out of Jack's shirt and leans forward, running his tongue over the little tail of it. This close, he can smell the sweat and adrenaline, and see the flush of blood just under Jack's skin. He brings his head up, shifting onto his hands and knees to loom over Jack. "You've killed a lot of men."

No need to state the obvious second half, not when the smile on his face says it all.

And not when the blush on Jack's face says the same.

Jack holds still as he feels the tongue along his throat. He swallows, trying to get the blood left in his body to his head where he still needs it.

"Uh. Yeah, it's - a long story." Jack says, realizing a second too late that the length is if anything, a selling point for this man.

With a little snort, he adds: "Having trouble remembering it all for some reason."

"Then I should help you remember." Siffleur says, and he simply grabs Jack by his thick thighs and flips them up to firmly pin him down on the floor.

--

They eventually make their way to the registers after a handful of detours and distractions. Siffleur has sprawled on top of the counter, one leg dangling off the side. It's been a very good afternoon.

Jack's wounds have bled through his makeshift bandages and Siffleur nods towards them. "I can take care of those if you don't want to wait for them to heal."

Jack, meanwhile, is on the floor behind the counter. Well, not the floor-floor, but the nest of clothes and towels and whatever else ended up back here, maybe abandoned and not put away, maybe purposefully assembled as a nest, hell, maybe the corpse of a Bahamanal dragged back to the den by... Right, he still hasn't caught his name.

Point is, he's on a pile of clothes and things, not the hard surface of the counter, and he's looking up at the other man.

"You mean by killing me, right?" Jack asks, not sounding particularly concerned by it. Just checking they're on the same page, is all.

"Yes." Siffleur props himself up on one elbow as they chat. "I would make it quick."

This is an offer no one has taken so far, but he will continue to offer it considering how much easier it is to simply wake up the next morning than to wait days for wounds to heal.

Jack nods, Jack nods. Good good.

"I'm leaning towards it." Jack admits, tipping his head. "Even if it didn't hurt that much, it's going to be a pain in the ass reaching for anything with this arm."

Maybe he should be concerned with himself for his next question (but nah, he'll worry about it later): "Would you do it like that, or as the big cat?"

He gestures with his good hand, like that makes it clearer what he means.

"Like this. I'll snap your neck, then eat you." Quick, easy, relatively painless. He sits up, both legs dangling off the counter. After a moment, he smirks and adds- "Eat you again."

He likes flirting with Jack. The man blushes easily for such a brutal fighter.

Siffleur stretches and then remembers something, reaching under the counter and feeling around- yes, there, with the other necessities they came here for, his stash of cigarettes is still there. He hasn't had any for a few weeks now, but it feels like an appropriate time to. Siffleur slides one into his mouth, and offers the pack to Jack.

"Oh." Jack says, and he doesn't sound disappointed, just like he's filing some absolutely banal information away, is all.

Though, even though he's a shade paler after this long post-fight, he still has just enough for a light blush at the man's more flirtatious comment.

And, well, maybe Jack can tease back: "Eh, I've had my neck broken before. I'll admit, it's hard to remember if I ever had it as direct and intentional as a-"

Jack briefly mimes out twisting someone's head, or about what he thinks that looks like based on books and so on.

"-but hey, you know what you're doing."

Speaking of which, Jack eyes the cigarette, and caught up in the lazy, warm, post-fucking feeling, he doesn't think twice as he takes the pack and starts shaking his own cigarette out.

"By the way, what's your name?" Jack asks while he's focusing on that.

"Siffleur." He answers. This is hardly the first hook-up he's had where names weren't exchanged until afterwards (if at all). "And yours?"

He reaches down and digs out his lighter. A couple of flicks, but no flame. He huffs, and then holds his cigarette out to be lit. "If breaking your neck seems boring, I can kill you in other ways. Most people seem to prefer things to be painless. But you don't seem like most people."

Edited 2022-12-01 18:26 (UTC)

"Jack." he says.

He props himself up, wincing through the motion.

"I mean, it loses the novelty after the first few times, y'know?" Jack says. "Fast or slow, I don't think it's every been completely painless, and it's not like limping away from a fight is painless either."

Ah, he's rambling. Jack shrugs his good shoulder, and brings his cigarette to his lips.

"I can handle anything under, let's say five seconds. Maybe ten seconds, but more than that and then I just want it over with." he says.

At a certain point in a fight to the death, like when you're full of holes or unable to move, and you know you can come back instantly, holding on feels like a waste of time. There were stretches in Rapture where his motivation to stay alive wasn't about avoiding death, but avoiding the walk back to where he was and whatever obstacles he passed by already. Or... Or from being so close to his goal...

But there's no goal for him here. Just existing without a mission, to figure himself out now that he's aware of how much of his life was made up. To figure out what he likes, who he likes, what he likes doing. And maybe, if death still isn't a concern here, maybe whatever this is might land on that chart.

Jack glances up at Siffleur, and with a smirk he snaps his fingers, igniting his thumb into a lighter's flame, and holding it up to his unlit cigarette.

"Gets boring for you. I get that." Siffleur brings the lit cigarette up to his lips to take a drag-

And gets a face full of fire suppressing foam that puts his cigarette out, and Jack's hand. Siffleur coughs and sputters, the cigarette dropping out of his mouth and he looks up at Gal Friday with a fire extinguisher in her hands.

"Smoking must be kept to the designated areas." Gal Friday says and just as silently and swiftly as she entered, she and the extinguisher are gone.

And Siffleur is left there with foam on his face, staring straight ahead.

Jack is also left there, foam coating his hand and also splattered on his face, staring at where Friday was just standing.

"You know what, I take it back." Jack says after a long moment. "Just kill me now, fast as you can, thanks."

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

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CW: Descriptive canniblism

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cw: casual talk about dying, pain, and not caring about either it, etc

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