tornheart | APPLE ORCHARDS AND TORN DREAMS [OPEN]

Entry tags:

APPLE ORCHARDS AND TORN DREAMS [OPEN]

Who: Open Log (All)
Where: Around the city (one prompt at the Green Valley school
Summary: Welcome Ceremonies, Dreams, Stirring a shadow hornet's nest. No big deal.
Warnings: N/A

"Are you ready my black lambs? Let's get to work..."

Apple Picking (General Prompt)

As September begins, the apple orchards of Greenfield Valley school are bursting with thousands of apples of various flavors and colors. There's even an experimental breed that's blue!

Those who have been attending the school know that this means a few important things. The first (and most important of course) is that it means that fall vacation is coming in just a few weeks (despite school having started just a few weeks ago), the second is that the school's menu is going to have a high number of apple-themed dishes until winter, and finally, the opening ceremonies.

The opening ceremonies are - well - one would consider them mostly boring for typical schools. And truth be told, Green Valley is not an exception. A single camera posed at the school's main gymnasium, a large podium in the center. For those who can't be physically there, the school's televisions all synchronized to a live broadcast as does the audio feeds. You can't quite escape it. Yet most people don't - after all it's one of the rare times of the year where the principal appears to wish students good fortune.

The person who stands in the front, Ms Michelle Andersen, is the very definition of an ice queen. Her face is perhaps locked forever into an emotionless stare. Bright blonde hair with blue eyes, both contract to her orange and black outfit.

Behind her, three men, the vice principals, who tend to play the good cops to her bad cop routine and insist that most students call them by their first names unless something really bad has happened; Norman (the most average man on campus that no one would know who he was if it wasn't for his name tag), Jeremy (the tallest staff member standing at over 195cm, thin, a bit of a lisp but he always means well), and Felix (possibly the hairiest man on campus as far as the rumors go, muscular, and a black beard that matches his scowling face when he isn't laughing - which is usually all the time. In fact, he's holding back himself from doing so when Ms. Andersen speaks.)

The presentation is short, as the Principal wishes all the students a great year, gives a bit of data on the number of students (they are up 300 new students from last year), the number of important guests that have passed, then as quickly as she was there, she leaves, explaining that there are additional meetings and events she will explain in greatest detail in the upcoming months.

Afterwards the students are treated to the vice principals singing a welcome song (it goes as well as one would expect it to go), telling the students that they are free to pick as many apples as they want as long as they all get eaten, but everyone is limited to two of the new apples and report to the hospital wards if any of them feel anything unusual after eating them. Just in case.

When the ceremonies are done, students and staff can return to their day...although some of the staff can be heard commenting that the Principal seemed even more...cold this year. Of course asking them for details would just cause them to shoo anyone away and pretend they didn't say anything.

[OOC: Players are welcome to speak to themselves or go have some apples. It's a general school mingling prompt! Additionally, it will be possible to email the vice principals during that week should the characters want to talk with them or ask school questions. Typical school stuff.]

Sound the Rebellion

(Special Prompt for the Unawakened, Monday the 4th)
The school's opening ceremonies aside, the Unawakened’s Monday was rather...strange. The night was plagued with restlessness as they heard the voice of someone laughing. Waking up feeling 'odd', although that differed between all of then - some would feel sick, others have a headache, or some just deciding that wearing a piece of clothing they haven't wanted to worn would look great right now. Perhaps they got a few comments from their relatives about how strange they were acting that day, or a worried glance if they felt sick. It might get dismissed with a wave of a hand.

After all, how can you explain that when they sometimes look upwards, they hear the sound of a child laughing and briefly see a symbol above their heads? Or that this somehow feels...fine?

Maybe in their new state of mind, they might not even notice the people that keep following them around...

Better than a GPS

(Awakened prompt, Monday 4th, day and night.)
"Alright Lambs, time to get to work."

Luci's voice echoed in their phone, laughing. Was he doing a peace sign?

"There's only a few but they'll be useful. I want you to find them and see what you can do. Who knows! Maybe you might be better at this than me, although I doubt it heh heh heh…Now remember what I said! You have to get them to fall asleep...but there's no real rules for that!"

For the Awakened, the symbols above the Unawakeneds’ heads will be as clear as day - Luci will even go so far as play little musical tunes when the characters are close by or distract them using electronics. "Come on! Stop wasting time and do something!"

For the Unawakened who have a relative, it will be somewhat easy. It is the others that will be a pain. Maybe that's why Luci asked for help. Or maybe he just wanted to see his 'lambs' struggle. "Get them to bed! It's not that hard! If you have trouble, just show them the program I've put into your phone and toaster! Or knock them with your toaster first if you want, I don't care! Just go in teams when you go after them, got it?"

It's obvious that 'sleeping' as far as Luci is concerned, is when someone is unconscious - he seems to almost want someone to knock an Unawakened out and then drag him into a room and let themselves go to sleep.

Once the task is done, and the place is secure, the characters will have to do the same. While the hypnotic wheel from the program is the easiest way, there's no hard rule about knocking oneself out either.

MINDJACK
Once the characters get inside, they'll be in the person's mind and dreams. Eddan's memories are predominant, and the unawakened will be standing there wandering around. It will be up to the Awakened to peel back the fabric of reality, much like curtains and show them the true memories of their past...

But beware. Shadows lurk here, and transforming will be necessarily. And if a character dies in someone else's dream...they might never wake up. So be careful...

The main mission is to showcase the person a few memories. Give them an idea that something might be amiss...it can be a little or a lot. Just be careful that the more memories, the stronger the shadows become... When both are done and awaken, ten minutes will have passed. Perhaps it will be time for question afterwards.

[OOC:The Unawakened characters need to be isolated for the program to run, and so do the players, so half the 'fun' will be setting up the traps so that the characters will be alone.

Awakened might decide to have someone stand on guard while the others go to sleep with the Unawakened, or just all stupidly go together, or find an area where they won't be disturbed - everything is up to you.

The dreamscape can be anything the Unawakened desires! It could be good memories of their time in Eddan or bad memories, a mixture of both, or just silly dreams. Whatever it is, the Awakened will need to 'peel' those memories away - for example showing them that their mother was someone else in their other life, or even directing the person to a mirror so that they can see their true selves. But for each memory - both good or bad, shadows will start to attack both the Unawakened and Awakened. Be careful and let the mods know if a mission goes REALLY bad.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

My problem?!

[That was rich when Vincent had been the one clinging to him like the dead! Kit might not have recalled everything with crystal clarity, but he knew he hadn't wound up in this position because his company had been easy to get along with and certainly not because he'd wanted this himself.]

I don't know what you're talking about, now...

[Planting his hands firmly against the other boy's chest and, heedless of where Vincent might land after the fact, Kit gave him a hard shove.]

...get off me!

[this from the guy who'd intended to leave but had fallen asleep with him not once, but twice? now that was a funny joke.

what isn't hilarious is the awful angle that he hits the ground at after being shoved, despite his best attempts to remain where he was out of spite. Vincent can't help but grunt softly - he was still pretty sore from their fight. but he has the presence of mind now to retaliate quickly, kicking out at their still slightly tangled limbs.]

Maybe if you'd fucking get your hands off me I could!

[His hands weren't the problem here, not with the way Vincent seemed determined to keep their legs in a tangle! His kicks were sharp, and while it was clear for now that he had no interest in delivering lasting damage, Kit returned every blow with one of his own, the pair of them squabbling like petty kindergarteners who had woken up cranky from their naps.]

I'm not the one who can't keep his feet to himself!

[He said while kicking Vincent in the kneecap, and then again in the shin. It would serve him right! For being someone Kit had inadvertently let his guard down around as much as he had. And for being so bullheaded and frustrating, too! None of which was Kit's fault. Absolutely not.]

[as if to further the unseen metaphor, Vincent grabs giant fistfuls of his companion's hair and starts giving them a vicious yank in retaliation for the barrage of kicks still raining down on him. no way was he going to back down, especially not when he was being blamed for something completely out of his control.]

No, you're the one who can't let me do just fucking that!

[YOUR LEGS ARE BIGGER AND THEREFORE THE REASON THEY'RE ALL TANGLED UP CLEARLY]

[That particular hair-raising tactic produced a rather undignified squawk as Kit lurched forward with every tug until, as any spectator would have seen coming, he crashed into the other boy, all knees, elbows, and low curses. Very much not the usual model of self-control he so often portrayed.]

If you'd just fucking stop...!

[Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon, and it wasn't like Kit could fight Vincent off seriously, not with his hands still as sore as they were. He talked a big talk the other day, but now that the adrenaline and the alcohol had both worn off, they were stiff and the scabs beneath his bandages were protesting so much movement.]

You fucking stop!

[who knew that the real displays of immaturity from Kit would come after his intoxication, not during? truly he was a strange boy.

Vincent growls (at least partially in pain) as he goes toppling over once more, the now familiar weight of the other teen pressing down on top of him. rather than let go he pulls even harder on the fistfuls of hair in his grasp, smacking him about the head with his hands every time they slackened to start another yank.]

[There was no denying that, at least.

Or there wouldn't have been if the subject were even up for debate. As it wasn't, Kit's entire focus was on the painful abuse his head was suffering at the hands of one very irate house guest. A guest whom Kit was starting to think had overstayed his welcome! If it wasn't so late he'd consider just throwing the other boy out on his ass, but with curfew having no doubt settled by now...

Well, he wasn't that cold.

Having to straddle Vincent's hips to keep his balance, Kit grabbed at the other boy's hands with his own and fought to stall their assault on his scalp.]

This isn't helping!

I'm not trying to help, idiot!

[why should he when the onus was entirely on Kit? he was just getting his deserved payback for all the suffering his stupid host had put him through up until now. if the other boy wanted it to stop so badly then he'd have to actually do something about that.

as the battle for scalp control rages on above them Vincent turns to bucking his hips wildly in an attempt to unseat his companion. if he actually succeeded in knocking him over then the yank on his hair was going to be a delicious secondary victory.]

[Of course Vincent misunderstood. Of course.

Kit hadn't meant help as in actually being courteous, but rather doing anything at all to actually put some distance between them. Distance that was much needed the second Kit felt Vincent's hips rush up against him from below.

Whether the gasp that followed was from the sudden impact or the sharp jerk of his head backwards was anyone's guess, Kit only knew that his body responded of its own accord, thighs gripping the other boy tightly to prevent being unseated, and fingers curling tightly around Vincent's wrists. Not pulling them away, but holding them steady.]

[thick-headed as he was, Vincent doesn't even consider the possibility that the noise which escaped from his companion could be anything but pain. taking the pressure around his hips as a challenge he continues rocking even harder, now stubbornly determined to throw him off one way or another.

the sudden cessation of Kit's attempts to remove him from his position of scalp superiority is a bit odd, but he chalks it up to the other boy deciding to focus on this new threat instead. it was understandably a bit more pressing of an issue.]

[Pressing was indeed the issue, and it was made worse by Vincent's decision to drive his hips against his host's with more force than before. Lips parted, more than just another gasp attempted to escape Kit after. Vincent's name was perched precariously on the tip of his tongue until, sharply biting the inside of his own cheeks to silence himself, he buried that secret deep.

As deep as his hips reflexively fought back against the other boy's, both in brutal retaliation and...

...was he actually allowing this? Seeking it out, even?]

[fighting fire with fire hadn't been the strategy that he expected Kit to go with for this bout...but he couldn't say that he minded. should he? the doubt feels strange in his mind and is immediately discarded; there's no reason for this to be anything but the burning excitement from clashing with someone.

now that it had been made a real challenge there was no way he'd let up. the other boy's hips smash against him hard enough that he can guarantee extensive bruising, but it only serves to fire him up more. he fights back with even quicker thrusts now, trying to pull Kit down simultaneously by the hair so that the next cry of pain that tries to leave his mouth will have nowhere to hide.]

[Physically, Kit was a fairly health specimen, athletic and meticulous about his diet, but his greatest strength was by far his intellect. However, without time to think, with only raw feeling rushing up from below and through him, each thrust of Vincent's hips further delaying the thoughts of an already drowsy mind, he could only react.

As he doubled over, mouth descending to brush against the shape of Vincent's ear, Kit's breath quickened. His hands relinquished their hold on the other boy's wrists in favor of curling into the front of his shirt instead. But his hips never stopped once.

It felt good, even the way his scalp ached, but that didn't mean it meant anything. This was fine.]

[it had been much easier to dismiss all of this as more of the same power plays that the pair of them seemed to thrive off of. but when the ghost of Kit's lips against his ear causes his pelvis to briefly jerk up with even more force than previously that becomes all but impossible.

ah, shit.

rather than attempting to stop things from getting any further out of hand the way that a mind in the midst of a gay panic should react, Vincent's hands instead pull the other boy's face even closer so that mouth could meet skin at last. he thinks idly instead can I make him moan? because apparently when the liquor had dried from his brain it took all of his cognitive functions along with it.

there was no need to stop. so long as neither of them acknowledge what was happening, it was fine.]

[He'd already gotten him hard, getting Kit to moan wouldn't be too difficult.

Or so it seemed at first. But for as vocal as Kit was, showing no restraint in the heaviness of his breath as it reached Vincent's ear, it was clear it would take a little more than rough hands and rough hips to make him call out.

Especially with his mouth presently occupied, puckered lips lightly pulling on the other boy's earlobe, tongue gently rolling across it as his teeth clamped down. If it wasn't a kiss, he could write it off as the simple pursuit of pleasure and nothing else. After all, he'd done this before.

And as far as the other boy knew, Kit didn't even know his name. That meant this was no different than the others. Never mind that it was in his dorm. In his bedroom. On his floor. And he was the one writhing, hips rocking wildly as if to encourage more of Vincent's violence.]

[Kit may be the one writhing, but he certainly isn't alone in feeling some additional pressure right now. an awful noise rumbles in the back of his throat, mercifully restrained but vibrating against his companion all the same. this was a situation he'd never found himself in before and many of the sensations are piercingly white hot for their newness.

but Vincent refused to let the other boy undo him simply by latching onto his ear with such a tantalizing sting. this was about power and control, nothing else - so long as he kept that in mind he didn't have to worry about the consequences.

he takes the invitation to inflict more violence upon his partner readily, hands sliding from the other boy's hair down the back of his shirt where he proceeds to rake long gashes across his shoulders blades. every movement will sting those wounds even after their frolic had ended - a fitting memento for this encounter.

as he fights to keep his passions from exiting his mouth he grinds his hips up against Kit's, seeking to prolong the friction between them with every thrust. whose benefit this is meant to be for even he couldn't say with certainty.]

[If nothing else, the sharpness of Vincent's nails clawing their way across his spine and down his back forced from Kit the desired prize: a throaty moan of pleasure that rolled out of him as his hips continued to battle Vincent's for dominance.

For all that Kit had a reputation, it had been more than a year since he'd felt anything like this. Between juvenile detention and needing to behave like someone allegedly reformed, he'd been doing his best to keep his head out of trouble and his urges in check. Until now. What it was about Vincent, he couldn't say. It may only have been that he had the opportunity and nothing more. And maybe that was all that mattered. Either way, he didn't want it to stop, certainly not if it meant cutting into him again in such a delicious way.

His body shuddered atop the other boy, legs trembling in their hold against him, and then his own hands found their way beneath Vincent's shirt. His nails left biting grooves down his chest and across his stomach toward the waistband of his pants, but his fingers weren't all that was penetrating.

With little warning his teeth stole their way from Vincent's ear and to his throat, a voracious pinch of flesh between them drawing a trickle of blood that was immediately lapped up by his tongue.]

[the sound is more than worth all the effort it had taken to draw it out. it's so pleasing to Vincent's ears that without realizing he's moaning as well, completely enraptured by the idea of his companion slowly unraveling.

just when he'd thought it may have been a momentary slip of the tongue Kit's jaws pierce his throat and he lets out a low gasp. never in his life had pain been so overstimulating. his back arches delightedly, crushing their hips together with enough force that he swears he hears his teeth click together.

it was like having an animal feeding off him, this feeling of a searing tongue sliding across his flesh, and the very thought nearly has him bursting then and there. instead his nails dig even deeper into Kit's back, clawing in place so violently that it would be a wonder if the thing didn't scar. he may have found himself a vampire, but the other boy would have to contend with a werewolf.

for no reason other than to make him work for it, he twists his neck to try and reach the other teen's face. how badly did he want to taste Vincent's blood? he was about to find out.]

[It was raw, unbridled hunger that guided them, a carnal thirst that brought their bodies crashing back together with all the force of a natural disaster. Fire erupted in fine red lines across Kit's back and exploded in long scarlet gouges down Vincent's front, but like starving animals, neither one stopped.

The flesh at the base of Vincent's throat was grazed with sharp teeth and teased with a gentle tongue until it was as red from rivulets of blood as it was from being abused, and only the presence of Vincent's face suddenly very close to Kit's own gave him any pause at all.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that.

Inviting as Vincent's mouth looked, as warm as his breath was across his face, and how tempted he was to swallow the moans the other boy was emitting, Kit would have no part of that sort of intimacy. That's not what this was.

One hand fled from underneath Vincent's shirt and alighted upon the faint bruises around his neck, marks that perfectly matched the shape of Kit's fingers. His thumb settled just beneath Vincent's chin, however. His intent this time not to asphyxiate, but to keep their lips apart and the other boy's neck exposed. To keep some semblance of of a wall between them even as he continued to grind with an unrelenting force down against his guest.]

[the ache from the bruises ringing his neck is like the return of an old friend, familiar and comforting. he strains into it, nearly strangling himself anyway as he simultaneously embraces that pain and fights to get his mouth near any part of Kit's face. it's not about kissing him - it's about leaving a mark where the world can see it. the stripes along his back weren't enough.

none of this was, really.

he wanted more than just the agonizing friction of their hips pounding together over and over. the crimson leaking across his stomach was no longer enough to satisfy him. Vincent's hands move on in their destructive path to the end of his partner's spine, digging in deeper than ever before hooking themselves around the other boy's waistband. there was no mistaking his intentions here.]

[The smirk that flitted briefly across Kit's face wasn't particularly kind, but then, neither was any of the punishment Vincent and he were inflicting upon each other. The bloody grooves left across each other's skin, the bites and bruises, none of it was the sort of thing people who cared did to each other. Unless, of course, they were completely out of their minds and insane. Or maybe demons wearing human skin.

Whatever the case, the promise of a perfect storm was what made the presence of Vincent's hands along the waistband of his pants so welcome. Groaning as he pushed himself upright, tongue lapping up traces of the other boy's blood on his lips, Kit indicated his approval with a nod. He knew what Vincent wanted because he wanted the same thing.

The button of his jeans and the zipper both were undone swiftly by his own hands before they found and violently tugged open the front of Vincent's pants, too.]

[Kit's voice had the perfect timbre for these moments; the laden groan as he rights himself is enough to elicit a strained laugh from his partner. how could proof of someone else's arousal be so much more provocative to him than physical stimulation?

this could only end in total destruction for the two of them, but the thought spurs Vincent on rather than deterring him as it might a rational human being. it's fortunate that his companion does the intricate work of opening their pants for him, as he isn't entirely certain that in his current state he could manage it without ripping the fabric asunder like some impatient animal.

he's already moving recklessly enough as it is, dipping a hand beneath the boundary of the other boy's waistband before his own had even been completely undone. he wants to visit the same violence here that he'd inflicted on the rest of his partner's body, do everything within his power to pull more of those beautiful sounds from Kit's lips. it was more delicious than even his blood had tasted.]

[Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he boldly pressed his erection against the palm of Vincent's hand, deft fingers pushing the button of the other boy's jeans through its loop, yanking down the car of his zipper, and exposing him, Kit was aware of a muted ring and faint vibration in the room with them.

The sound registered as annoying at first and was promptly ignored in favor of pursuing more of the burgeoning frenzy between himself and Vincent. But as it persisted, the caller giving up and calling back again several times, each muffled ring began to sound more urgent, the shaking of the phone in his back pocket more gnawing than the rough way Vincent's hands worked his sex.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

...and calling that number? That wasn't the ring of his burner.

The realization hit Kit harder than the other boy's hips ever could and, almost fearfully, he yanked the offending device out of his back pocket to stare at its glowing interface. The phone buzzed again, the ring louder now that it was free of its confines, and the display showed him exactly what he'd hoped he wouldn't find. HE took the call, free hand yanking Vincent's out of his pants even as he immediately began lying about why he hadn't heard the device ring the first few times. Whomever was on the other end didn't leave him much room to speak after that, though. And it seemed everything Kit was listening to was like daggers.

After a moment there was an "I understand," and a "thank you for telling me," before Kit finally hung up. The phone was still clutched in one trembling hand as it came to rest between him and Vincent, fingers like a vice around its shape, knuckles stark white.]

[they've fallen so far from whatever precipice common decency dwelt on that Vincent can't even hear the buzz of his companion's phone. it's with surprise and no small twinge of annoyance that he suddenly finds the teen whose arousal he was fondling checking his phone in the middle of all this. who the hell could be that important?

the sullen jealousy that wells up inside him is to blame for the way Vincent briefly tries to fight off the hand pulling him from his task, determined to make this conversation as uncomfortable for Kit as possible. but when he catches sight of the other boy's face - there were some lines that even he wouldn't cross, and he goes still.

as the conversation ends silence stretches out between them, pressing down with more weight than any of their sexually-charged idiocy had possessed. Vincent considers simply rolling out from under him and leaving, but curiosity (concern) spurs his tongue into action at last.]

...what is it?

[he deserved to hear that much, at least. no details, but a brief explanation. they'd been rather preoccupied before the sudden cessation, after all.]

[It was several moments before Kit answered, sliding off Vincent's lap and sparing the other boy the trouble of squirming out from underneath him as he did so. His voice was calm, much more steady than it had been when he'd taken the call, almost as if his escapades with Vincent had pulled the plug on his ability to feel anything else so intensely.]

There was an accident.

[He didn't meet Vincent's gaze as he pushed himself back into his pants and pulled up his zipper. He didn't even look at him as he tucked away his phone and, using the side of the bed as leverage, lifted himself back to his feet. It wasn't until after he'd peeled off his sweater, now spotted with blood, and made his way to his closet to find something else, something darker to pull over his head, that he bothered to explain any further at all much less look at his companion.]

My foster mother is in the hospital. You can stay here, but I need to go.

[His step father had told him not to worry, to come in the morning, but...how could he do that? Those people continued to be kind to him. To include him in their lives. And he had been revisiting bad behaviors when one of them had gotten hurt. It was like some sick joke. Or sick form of punishment...]

it's. not a mistake. it's just time lines being smudged beyond recognition.

time is just one big lake, after all...

polluted by all our threads?

i think you mean made a tourist attraction

we should be charging admission if that's the case

i'm down with setting up a patreon whenever you are

💰 okay let's get us the monies 💰

yeyeyeye gonna be rich

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cw sexual...stuff??? idk their pants are on but so are their dicks

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