“So, what do you think?” Zebryl sounded positively giddy even though he looked as out of place in dark red leathers as a goth kid at cotillion. “Isn’t this place marvelous?” He gestured grandly about the scene.
“Yeah, sure,” Robin replied, non-committally. “I guess it seems cool, kinda like if Tinkerbell and Paris Fashion Week had a baby.”
“That is a very odd thing to say, and I certainly don’t understand it,” Zebryl intoned, “But if you mean this place is positively magical, then you would be correct.”
Robin stared around. People chatted happily with each other in small groups sipping champagne and block-iced cocktails making it feel like a big garden party. There was a raised catwalk poking out of gossamer curtains that ought to have been see-through but revealed nothing of what was behind them. “Something is… … but I can’t figure what.”
Color! That was it! The plainFolk were colored. Not their flesh, but their apparel. Most of the NPCs hanging out here had colorful outfits, not the usual taupe tailoring they were stuck with in the rest of the world. No wonder they loved coming here. “Are they able to see the colors they’re dressed in?”
“I imagine so, yes,” Zebryl admitted. He guided them toward the curtains next to the catwalk. “What else would be the point, no? It doesn’t last, of course. All the couture is magical illusion layered atop their plain unvarnished haberdashery. It vanishes soon after they leave when the pesky fey are done feeding upon them.This is where people come to feel better about how they look and to feed their vanity. They get to dress as they imagine themselves to be, or desire to be, and parade about with a modicum of glamoured color for once.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“Not at all, dear Robin. These homely little people are perfectly willing to exchange their empty will for an hour or two of fantasy. The fey feed upon plainFolk’s purpose, their ResolveFear
“That’s just wicked,” Robin scoffed. “Is that what you’re doing to me with whatever imaginary verbal contract you and I have?”
Zebryl nodded. “Most assuredly, my love. But our deal is far more… intimate. Far more personal. I would never withdraw more than you are willing to give. Oh, I see you don’t believe me.”
“Of course not, I know not to trust a devil’s bargain. Besides, when you fed on me?”
Zebryl grinned, licking his lips. “Why, every time we lie together. Your frequent and fruitful releases come in more than viscous textures and tasty red mist. What did you think the spikes on my penis were for?”
Robin stopped before they passed through the curtains. “I guess I just assumed it was a natural part of your anatomy and didn’t have any real purpose other than to scare me every time we fuck. I’m afraid you’re going to tear me apart irreparably.” . Robin felt dumb for not realizing it sooner.
Zebryl winked at Robin’s awakening. “Yes, indeed. At least some of the intent is to scare you every time. Well, not specifically, but whoever is the receiver of my carnal attention. The spikes extract a most zesty, you might say orgasmic, form of FearYou are the tempter in this relationship, not I. I do you a favor — out of love, of course — by not keeping you pegged upon me in bed all day long. Your needs are as important to me as, well, as anything.”
Wondering if he was being gaslit, but feeling snide as well, Robin said, “You mean I’m more important to you than Yaritzya?” Zebryl’s red, ruby eyes widened briefly with concern. “Yes.. I mean, no. But she is family. I cannot ignore what she and I mean to each other.”
Robin sniffed. “Well, yes, you ”
“Actually, no, I cannot. We are genetically contracted to one another. I could no more defy her needs than I could break off my own head.”
“Genetically contracted? What the fuck does that mean?”
Zebryl appeared somewhat puzzled by the question. “Everything in life is a contract, Robin. Surely you’re intelligent enough to recognize that?”
“Of course I am, but I don’t think you’re right.” The barb aimed at his intellect made him remember that one of his Reasoning
Before their conversation could go any further, the audience around the catwalk exploded with cheers and uproarious applause. Energetic music with a thumping club beat kicked on from speakers hidden in the shrubbery. Models emerged from behind the stage curtains enveloped in glittering light.
PlainFolk strutted down the raised lane proffering their best duck-lipped pouty-faces. Some awkwardly attempted to replicate the exaggerated model stroll by stepping across themselves with each stride — some with feigned confidence and a few with actual grace. Each was adorned in apparel seeming to defy the laws of needle and thread, not to mention physics. Every outfit was made from flower petals, leaves, thin vines and swathes of glittery fabric with only the barest regard to body shape. Some outfits covered almost nothing while others were heaped atop the model like an 8-year-old’s idea of the proper amount of whip cream.
Down on the lawn, next to the catwalk where Robin and Zebryl stood, the side curtain pulled open and the most breathtaking, dark-skinned man emerged. He was only shoulder-high to Robin and he had bright, gossamer butterfly wings, a well muscled bare chest and tall, pointed ears. He wore high-waisted green pants and a green cape of thin fabric draped across one shoulder and arm. If he was surprised at them standing in his way, he didn’t show it. Instead, he bowed elegantly.
“Aaiii, pardon me, my friends. I did not expect people to be at my entryway,” he said in a well-mannered tone. “Please, forgive my intrusion upon your conversation.”
Zebryl clapped the fairy fellow on the shoulder. “No forgiveness needed, Master Martiposa. In fact, we are here to see you.”
Seeming the consummate host, Martiposa bowed once again, if only slightly. “Ah, so we have met before, Master Incubus?”
“Indeed, indeed we have,” Zebryl stated. “I am a tad heartbroken that you do not remember our… encounter. I spent quite a long time inside you. Though, to be fair, it was ages ago.”
The fairy was nonplussed. “So, by ‘ages ago’, do you mean as measured by the citizens or do you mean in Gameages as in the previous cycle? I fear I have been around for quite some time and all my experiences tend to get mashed together.”
Game cycles? Ages? What in the iCalendar fuck were they talking about? How old was this super hot fairy? How old was Zebryl? Had this world been around for, like, millennia or something? Robin had way too many questions but found no opportunity to ask them as the supernatural creatures completely dominated the conversation.
Zebryl laughed. Normally buttoned up and stuffy in demeanor, it was weird to see the devil behave so light-heartedly. Maybe the party atmosphere of the fair grounds was letting him unclench that tight taint of his. “Oh, you flatter me, Martiposa, but I am not that old and I certainly was not here during the last reign. No, you and I dabbled together about ten years ago, I should think. My sister and I were rather new to this place and you were gracious enough to help educate us.”
It was the fairy’s turn to laugh. The sound of his joy was like a bell choir and Robin could not help but smile at hearing it. “Ahhh, yes yes yes. I remember now. The fresh-from-Hell whore pair… ah, how do you say your name?”
“My sister is Yaritzya and I am Zebryl.”
“Yheees, Zebryl. That’s it, of course. How could I forget? You are quite the vigorous lover.” His sparkly lilac eyes quickly scanned the devil’s apparel. "I may forget a face, but I would never forget a frock. Correct me if I misremember, but I believe I made for you a most strapping set of straps. Yes, ruby red leather to accent that bright pink flesh, and pants to enhance your most spikey endowment. Why do no longer wear them?”
Zebryl actually looked chagrined. Had they met someone dynamic enough to kick Zebryl down a peg? Robin was really starting to like this fairy fellow, and not just for the smokin’ body and gorgeous wings. The devil nearly covered his mouth at his next statement, “I fear, my dear pixie, that outfit was left behind when Yaritzya and I struck out on our own. Hopefully it still remains somewhere in the Khyr’Frexian Cabal house. One day I mean to reclaim it. The outfit, I mean, if not the house.”
“It would be a shame to not see it again someday,” Martiposa tisked. “But enough of the past. Who is this strapping man you bring to me today?”
“I’m Robin.” He stuck his hand out to shake before Zebryl could make the introduction. “It’s quite a pleasure to fairy-meet you. You’re pretty much my first… fairy, that is.”
Martiposa gave another tinkle-bell laugh. “It is very good to meet you, Robin. I am most glad you are not a Feral
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The fairy took them through the curtain and into the dressing room portion of the pavilion. Sunlight diffused through the multi-hued silk fabric but the space had warm, clear, magical lighting so as not to distort any of the fashion creations. Racks upon racks of hanging outfits lined the sides and floating mirrors in fantastical frames hovered in the center. Half a dozen winged feyFolk
Martiposa shooed people away from his work station and then turned to Robin and Zebryl. “I don’t think I can whip up anything fast enough to put you in this show, unless you want me to simply Glamour
“I should think that would miss the point entirely, my good pixie,” Zebryl said.
Once again the fairy — no, pixie — bell-laughed delightfully. “Quite right, quite right, good Zebryl.”
“How about you craft each of us an outfit in keeping with today’s show theme, which I believe is flowers, correct?” The incubus plucked a single, absurdly large tulip from a vase on the worktable. It was not lost on Robin how Zebryl had deftly refused the fey’s offer and turned it around still achieving the same result.
“Ahh, but of course,” Martiposa agreed with a grin. If he was disappointed at failing to instigate an offer, he did not show it.
“Perhaps if we were to disrobe, to cleanse your visual palette of our current apparel, it might ignite creative… passions.” Zebryl was already removing his coat which took a moment to work around his wings, though he did it with practiced ease. He gave Robin a look indicating he should do the same.
Intoxicated by the energy suffusing the place, Robin found himself eager to get naked with these two. Maybe he was being enchanted, but even his animosity toward Zebryl felt in retreat. He stripped his hat and vest off and dropped them next to a pile of loose cloth. He yelped when the vest continued to rustle.
Inch-worming its way out from the stack of fabric clippings emerged a most odd and adorable little creature. It was the size of a toy poodle but looked like a fuzzy caterpillar and a teddy bear had made a baby. It scooted on multiple little nubby legs and turned huge, dark plush-toy eyes up to him. It gave a teeny, tiny little squeak-squawk. Robin’s heart melted.
“Do be careful, Master Robin,” Martiposa warned. “Feel free to pick it up. It is most harmless and quite affectionate, but a touch delicate for it is entirely boneless.”
Robin tenderly brought it to his face to give it a good nuzzle. It’s noises continued unabated, presumably a sign of delight. “Is it a Pokemon? Where can I get one?”
“It is my pet khadagant. Quite rare, at least in this world. Back home they are kept as children’s blossom buddies. They keep the little seedlings entertained with light and music.” Martiposa smiled wistfully. “Here, I keep it mostly as a reminder of my bouquet of children back in Paradise. Perhaps, I will see them again, one day. This khadagant was the favorite of the children I bloomed in this world.”
Robin was so enamored with the fuzzy bug he didn’t notice the green ResolveFuuuuuhhhhhk. I fell for another fairy offer. How can I turn this around?
He needn’t have worried. Zebryl did it for him by attempting to Seduce
The pixie smiled indulgently while slipping away from the devil’s groping hands. He warmly greeted the flower festooned plainFolk taking each compliment with a nod or a swiftly muttered thank you. For his part, Zebryl took the opportunity to sweep loose fabric cuttings off a plush divan to artfully and alluringly pose himself like Marie Antoinette, head propped up on one bent arm. The effect that had on the plainFolk was immediate. Nearly a dozen of them rushed to meet the naked devil and half-dressed Robin. If this had happened in a gay club back home, he’d be excited. Being rushed by the general public here while they were so exposed left him feeling rather vulnerable.
While Robin had long wished to star in a show popular enough to garner him throngs of adoring fans, there was something about this moment that made his teeth itch. The fawn-fleshed fans exuded a distinct energy of desperation as they converged around the divan.
“How did I look out there?”
“What do you think of my outfit?”
“Does this make me look rich?”
“How pretty am I on a scale of one to ten?”
“Do you think I can talk Martiposa into making one more outfit for me?”
Many in the crowd clamored for the pixie to make ‘just one more look’ so they could walk the runway again. If Martiposa was bothered by the wave of requests, he took it all with the same grace and gratitude he had displayed so far.
He fluttered elegantly into the air to hover just above everyone’s heads. It may have been a trick of the light, but it seemed his blue wings glittered with tiny fragments of starlight upon their gossamer surface. “Please, please, my friends. I am very very happy you love your flower petal attire. Normally, I would be more than happy to provide a second round of stunning vestments, but I fear I must attend to my special guests.”
Khaki faces retained smiles but something in their eyes had made a switch to darker desires. The crowd’s energy exuded bitterness, if just below the proverbial surface.
“But I need more than one new look,” a middle aged woman said. “My daughter’s wedding requires me to show up in at least three different outfits throughout the weekend.”
“Yeah,” agreed one college-aged boy. “I can’t show up on my social feeds my dinner date in the same thing. She’ll never go out with me again if I don’t look perfect and new all the time.”
A young woman stomped her foot dislodging a decorative rose bloom from one high-heeled shoe. “My husband said I can’t come home if I keep wearing the same dumpy things every day. Please! He’ll be so mad. I don’t care what it costs.”
“Yeah, money’s no problem,” chorused most of the others in the crowd.
Martiposa delivered a literal glitterSmile down upon them. He swept adroitly closer to the center of the tent careful to remain out of reach of their grasping hands. “Well, I certainly would be a poor designer if I turned away such ardent requests. Please, please, if you are sure that payment is no problem, my assistants are more than happy to take it and show you some of my other — more exclusive — designs from the secret racks.”
Everyone cheered, clapped, hooted and hollered at the news. Their hands fished about the couture they currently wore miming the action of digging for wallets, though few appeared to even have pockets. What they presented with eager open hands was not coin or paper money, but glinting green dollops of Resolve
Robin feared they were about to swarm the pixie, even though he was safely hovering above them. He’d seen overeager crowds at concerts pull musicians off the stage mid-song just for the opportunity to touch them. He glanced about hoping to see fairy security or something, but the half dozen other winged-folk appeared unconcerned. Zebryl was picking at one of his claws. Was nobody willing to head this off before it got out of control?
Maybe he could distract them. He cupped the adorable khadagant in both hands and gave it a very serious look. “Hey little buddy, if you’re actually a boom box, now would be the time to crank that fuzzy little butt into rave mode and give us a dance beat.”
The khadagant chittered and chirped as if it understood. Each of it’s tiny little hair follicles sparked to life like miniature glow sticks. Disco light burst out of Robin’s hands accompanied by what could only be described as throbbing, techno, conga music.
<> <> <>
“Come on everyone — let’s dance,” Robin called out making use of well-honed vocal projection. He held aloft the glowing little fuzzBug as high as he could letting the flashing lights and riveting beat catch as much attention as possible. Robin activated his Caroused12 Presence
ROBINS’s RESULTS: QUALITY = 33
PRE d12 = 12
Carouse d10 = 8
Carouse d8 = 7
Carouse d6 = 6
Holy mambo-mad nuts! He had rolled four successes with near-maximum quality! Every gilded lily-head — some adorned in actual lilies — whipped around to focus on Robin and the kaleidoscopic khadagant. The tune proved so infectious and the light show so bedazzling they all fell into line behind Robin, one hand on the waist of the reveler in front of them, the other offering up their green Resource
<> <> <> With each third phrase the faux fashionistas released their ResolvefeyFolk
A true party had kicked off and Robin was at the head of it. He felt riotously elated. There was triumph and satisfaction and purpose in wrangling a crowd into motion. Emitting so much personal verve reflected energy back tenfold to the performer. Sure, the eager fairies were the ones benefitting from the witless, vapid, appearance-obsessed NPCs, but Robin felt alive for the first time in days. Maybe for the first time since he had cast a magic spell — and this time it wasn’t even magic he had used, but his own natural gifts.
After a few minutes of jubilant dancing, raucous hip thrusting and sing-song cheering, Robin peeled away from the plainFolk party. He carefully placed the khadagant on a high shelf where it could adorably continue to fuel the festivities with its light show and cha-cha rhythms. The other fey attendants brought out racks of fashion garments in bright colors and esoteric shapes. People stripped off their current attire and jostled to be the first to try on the new ones.
Returning to the plush divan and cluttered work table, Robin found the pixie pattern-professional hard at work — literally in both meanings of the word, judging by his tented crotch fabric. Martiposa was magically stitching dark green leather together and fitting it to the devil’s bare chest to form an intricate harness. The pixie used a long, thin wand that must be some sort of magical sewing machine for the leather straps adhered together immediately when the glowing wand tip passed over.
“That’s already looking super cool,” Robin admired, still humming to the beat of the music. “What are you going to make for me?” He struck what was intended to be a clownish impression of a body-builder pose to make impactful use of his temporarily buff physique. His Carouse
Martiposa scuttled over to Robin, completely leaving two straps dangling unfinished from Zebryl’s shoulder. The pixie dropped to his knees and began petting Robin’s anatomy like a dog licking peanut butter. Maybe it was the freak combination of Robin’s CarouseSeduction
Zebryl grinned lasciviously from the divan as golden FaithResource
Zebryl slithered off the lounger to join in. He flexed, posed and strutted his own perfect physique leaving the pixie to scramble desperately back and forth between the two of them, seemingly unable to idolize them fast enough to achieve sufficiency.
A small piece of Robin’s mind knew they should stop, but it felt good. He could feel all his used AttributeReady Deck
Martiposa turned glittering eyes up to Robin, pressed one hand softly to his neck to trace a lingering finger across his clavicle to end cupping one pectoral. The pixie sighed contentedly then collapsed, unconscious, in Robin’s arms like a sun-wilted flower.