pathemaooc | Test Drive #3

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Test Drive #3

ARRIVAL: Your character wakes up in a temple completely naked except for the collar around their neck. Near the spot they wake up is a pile of clothing that is NOT what your character was wearing before they woke up. When they unfold the clothing they will find it's a toga and that there's a pair of sandals under it. Too bad, that's all there is.

The sound of bells soon fills the temple, drowning out the noise of chatter and panic, drawing your attention to the statue in the center of the temple before a loud, booming voice fills your head:

Welcome, Honored Guests. I trust you’ve found everything easily enough. You may consider your Toga a token of my generosity and I trust the footwear will be more than sufficient;

Now I’m certain that you all have many questions, so perhaps you’ll permit me to explain.

I, Eros, Son of Ares and Aphrodite, God of Love and Sexual Desire, have brought you to Pathema for a very simple purpose. I offer you sanctuary from the trials and tribulations of your all too dreary existences and in return, I ask only one thing of you.

Your devotion.

I have seen how reluctant you creatures can be when it comes to matters of the flesh, and so I have ensured that all of you shall have the proper encouragement.

Surely you must be aware by now that each of you have been fitted with a collar. I wouldn’t try and remove them if I were you. Your petty magics, or force, will do little more than cause them to tighten I’m afraid.

Over a period of fourteen days, your collars will tighten. I’m told it’s a terribly uncomfortable experience and I wouldn’t suggest you push your limits but you mortals are rather a stubborn lot. Still, never let it be said that I didn’t try to warn you.

Now if at the end of those fourteen days, you have still refused to show your devotion to your God? You will simply cease to exist.

Oh, come now. I am not a cruel and capricious God. You’ll be permitted to return to your previous state of existence, for the mere price of something that you hold dear. A memory of those trivial times from before you were brought to your new home

Ah, yes. I do believe I have your attention now, don’t I?

But of course, how can you, mere peasants, show your God how much you adore him? I should think the answer is very simple, don’t you? I am the God of Sexual Desire after all.

SUMMER SOLSTICE: At night, bondfires are lit on the beach, and tables of food from your world are displayed alongside food from foreign places. Music is played all night long, and dancers pull strangers to join them, while the fire breathers put on a show for all to see. At midnight, fireworks light up the night skies before the party rages on until the sun comes up.

Blankets are available all over the beach, some giving more privacy than others...

MONSOON SEASON: It's raining season on the island, but like anything else here, this is no regular rain...

One moment the sky is blue and the sun warm, and one second later, dark grey clouds spill their content on the island residents. Sometimes it comes down as a light mist, and other times in such a manner that anyone running underneath is from head to toe in seconds. Sometimes, thunder rages on, and hail comes down from the sky instead of rain.

Spaces to hide oneself are sparse, and you may have to share your protected corner with someone else...

NETWORK: Everyone is provided with a communication device that gives them access to an island-wide network. These can be used for so many things! Send pictures of the drunk guy at the bar, your boobs or whatever you want!!

WILDCARD: There are forests, mountains, marketplaces, all sorts of places to go and explore on the island. Ideas for settings can be found on the locations pages!

**TDM threads can be used as your sample in your application! It can also be considered in game canon if it is agreed on by all characters involved in said threads.

//LINKS//
Game FAQ // Rules // Taken // Reserves // Application // Full Navigation //
Network // Logs // Info // OOC

CODED BY TESSISAMESS

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"But you have been told what we are made to do in this place?" Sansa asks, cutting her eyes toward him subtly. She doesn't like that she's been made to share her bed with men in order to stay alive but she is nothing if not a survivor. She will survive the winter and come through to the spring.

"I'm not a maiden any longer. I can't marry Sweetrobin. I can't marry anyone politically viable. I've been ruined for that."

"I have." Which hadn't been exactly thrilling to hear. He has no real interest in what they're expected to do, except in a couple of very specific cases.

Sansa sounds about as pleased by it as he feels. "Robin won't know what he's missing." He doesn't sound terribly disappointed at the idea of that marriage not happening.

"I wouldn't have ever done it willingly," Sansa says, casting her eyes downward. Somehow, with Petyr, she feels a bit of shame creeping in and coloring her features.

"I just did what I needed to do in order to survive. I feel like a whore in a brothel, though, begging favors from strange men."

That's a sentiment he understands, having had little desire to indulge in that sort of thing himself (even if no one would believe that, based on the businesses he owns), and since his arrival, he's been wondering just how he's supposed to follow the rules of a place whose rules he doesn't like.

Doing what it takes to survive, he understands that, too. "Whores do not typically have to beg." Though he'll spare her the details of how he knows that. It's not like she doesn't already have an idea. "There is no need to compare yourself to one of them."

"They beg for coin or for shelter," Sansa says softly. She doesn't like the fact that someone who had prized her maiden status for a marriage, eventually, to someone powerful knows that she no longer has her worth. It damages her pride.

"I beg for my life. I hate having to go to different men once a fortnight to have this...issue dealt with. I thought I would only ever have to be with one."

"Not all of them." But the intricacies of the profession, at least the way he runs it, are not what's important here. The bigger matter is that of survival -- of both of them.

Luckily he knows a thing or two about making beneficial business deals, and that it's all in the way that it's pitched to someone else. Find the right words, and you can get what you want. "Then it sounds what you need is an arrangement that would meet your needs. Both of us could benefit from that."

Did he mean to slip that 'us' in there? Maybe.

Sansa's eyes dart upward, utterly shocked. He'd kissed her once in the godswood at the Eyrie and she'd pushed him away. At that time, he'd been Lysa's husband and she'd been a maiden who barely knew anything about what a man and woman did in bed with one another. Now she knows what they do together in beds but she hasn't particularly found much joy there. There hasn't been pain, for which she's been grateful, but it's still a chore to be carried out and not something she would do if she had to.

"Surely there must be other women you would rather...I barely know anything and I'm not...you won't find joy with me, Lord Baelish. I simply endure it."

Other women he would rather. There's only ever been one woman for him. Now two. Which he supposes is not something to explain right now. Not fully, anyway. Sansa's the one who's here, anyway, and hasn't outright denied him yet. This could be a possibility.

"I can think of none that I would rather. You may find this hard to believe, given the businesses I own, but I can hardly say I know much more than you do." At this point, she's probably even had more experience than he has. "Doesn't enduring it together make more sense than any other option?"

Sansa isn't certain how much she believes that. She remembers how Lysa screamed and squealed on her wedding night and she knows that his brothels had been among the best in King's Landing. Even a maiden can glean these things from whispered conversations in the night and Sansa had been married to Tyrion Lannister, after all. She knows a bit about whores.

"I doubt you're less experienced than I am," Sansa says. "I am not a maiden and I know how to use my mouth. That is it. Men seem to enjoy it more than I do but if you want to...endure it together, I am not against it. I just have a request, though."

Lysa should not be taken as an example of anything, except perhaps why it's wise to get out of Vale once in awhile. His brothels are the best because he employs the best, and if they turn to be not among the best, he sends them on their way. It's more business than anything.

"What request would that be?"

"Will you pretend it is more than just a business transaction? That's all it is here, for anyone, but I have trouble sharing my body that way. I have trouble using my body as currency. I want to be kissed. I want to be told sweet things and taken for walks and...I want things I am never meant to have. I just want to pretend for a little while," Sansa admits.

"So if you could pretend it isn't just business, I will agree."

Pretend it isn't business. Pretend it isn't something he never wanted it to be in the first place. She has just asked him for the one thing he's always wanted to give, and now he has a guarantee that he'll be able to give it, and she'll accept it.

"I can accept these terms."

"Then I accept your offer," Sansa says. She keeps her head held high even though her cheeks are flushed scarlet and she wishes she had something stronger than this wine to drink.

"Will you allow me to come tonight? I won't need the collar loosened or anything but I thought I might just...stay."

So soon? He can work with that, too. Now that he knows that this is taken care of and he doesn't need to worry about following the rules of this place, he can relax a little (as much as he ever relaxes, anyway) and enjoy this gathering.

If only Ned Stark could see him now.

"Tonight will do. I have no other plans." And if he did, he'd cancel them.

"Will you need my help?" Sansa asks softly, concern in her voice. She doesn't know if he's had his loosened or not and while hers is sufficient for another few days (as she always runs up to ten), she doesn't know if Lord Baelish will need his tended to. She presses her lips together.

"I have another two days before I hit ten. But I could aid you, if you needed it."

"I've only been here for a few days. I don't need help yet." It is tempting, of course, to claim that he needs it, but he doesn't want to seem too eager. Not yet. It sounds like there's a guarantee of something in the next day or two, anyway. He can wait that much longer.

"I will assist you when you need it."

"I wouldn't have to wait until ten days," Sansa says, swallowing thickly. "I could use the loosening earlier if you would like to help me. The collar is already very tight."

It presses against her throat, leaving a shadow of a bruise.

"It would be a shame for it to get worse." He doesn't know how all of it works yet, but he knows that death would be an incredible waste. In some cases, anyway, including definitely in this one.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit. It would be more comfortable." She wants to be treated well. He'll start now.

"I don't like doing those things in public," Sansa warns. She has before, when under the influence of Eros, but it is certainly not something she wants to make a habit of. She finds herself at loose ends for a moment before reaching out and touching his hand lightly. If she's going to choose him as her partner to aid her with the collar, she is going to have to get used to touching him.

"Will you take my hand at least, Lord Baelish?"

"I was simply suggesting having a seat. Anything that happens after that would occur elsewhere." He's not exactly eager to do those kinds of things in public either. At least not personally.

He takes her hand more firmly. "Come, let us find somewhere to sit and get more comfortable. I think perhaps, as well, that you could call me Petyr now."

Sansa takes in a shaky breath and takes his hand a bit more firmly. She doesn't know if she can call him Petyr just now but she can, at least, go and take a seat beside him. When she sits beside him on the bench, she does not keep a proper distance the way she would have in the Eyrie. She doesn't keep the distance that even a wife might keep from a husband in Westeros. Instead, she sits close enough to him so that her thigh is alongside his and there is no semblance of space between them.

"Will you share wine with me?"

He can feel the warmth of her leg through both of their clothes, so close to him, the closest they've ever been to skin against skin, beyond a brief touch of the hand here or there. He looks down at their legs, pressed together, but does nothing more than look. He doesn't want to scare her into changing her mind.

"Yes. Let's start with sharing some wine."

The wine warms her a bit and after offering him a glass as well, Sansa thinks she's comfortable enough to lean forward and brush a kiss lightly against his cheek. It's the only time she's ever initiated physical contact with him that is outside the normal boundaries of a man and his ward in Westeros and Sansa isn't sure if she's going to be able to go through with this. Still, it is better that this is with someone she knows and thinks she can trust than with another stranger.

"Is this all right?"

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Test Drive #3

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