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

[teethoftherisk]

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.

Comments

[obeyseventually]

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.

CW: Descriptive canniblism

[teethoftherisk]

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.

[obeyseventually]

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."

[teethoftherisk]

"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."

[obeyseventually]

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.

[teethoftherisk]

"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.

[obeyseventually]

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.

[teethoftherisk]

"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.

[obeyseventually]

"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.

[teethoftherisk]

"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."

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

[obeyseventually]

"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.

[teethoftherisk]

"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.

[obeyseventually]

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."