MINGLE 001

[erkumods]

MINGLE 001: FOOD, FUN, FUCKING

Guests are 'gently encouraged' by enforcer robots to gather into what appears to be a central gathering place in the middle of the settlement area. Attendance is quite mandatory. Once everyone has gathered, holographic emitters kick on and display... static. Loudspeakers tell the captive audience to prepare for an important announcement, and moments later a proper but mechanical voice chimes in: Greetings, organisms! R̷e̶j̸o̴i̴c̷e̸, for the portents foresee a time of glorious providence! We have recorded your actions a̵n̸d̵ ̴o̸u̶r̵ ̵c̶a̵p̸a̷b̷i̴l̸i̷t̵i̶e̸s̶ ̴have upgraded accordingly! The fabricator general automata grant you a boon, and shall provide much glamorous f̷i̶x̴t̶u̶r̶e̴s̷ ̴to aid in your future acts. Frolic and make merrily, all! To honor your contributions and celebrate your arrival, you will be invited to attend our first sultry salacious soiree. Join your fellow chosen and f̵u̶l̵f̴i̵l̸l̵ ̵y̸o̷u̶r̷ ̷f̸u̴n̴c̷t̷i̶o̶n̶! And with that, the display ends and characters are allowed to go as they please. Upon returning, characters now find that dormant manufacturing robots have been reactivated, and will accept requests to build certain household fixtures, i.e., bedding, couches, loveseats. Because who wants to bang on a dusty cot, right? The quality will not be high. Imagine low-end IKEA. Build quality also varies dramatically and seems to depend on how old and corrupted the machine is. (As with all things in this world, quality is improved with intimate acts.) But what is this celebration you've been invited to? That much is simple as sin. It's a mechanically sponsored party. Of particular note to hungry newcomers will be a fully stocked banquet ample spirits and naturally, a dedicated area for an all-out orgy. It's a good old-fashioned party, Roman style! ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● These are no hospital rations. This is a full-fledged feast. It's no less dangerous, though. Naturally, the robots have seen fit to add a little bit "extra." Some offerings are entirely innocuous, while others have bevy of effects that you'll soon discover. You may find yourself only able to speak the truth, or maybe after one bite you find yourself instantly smitten with the next person you see. Some foods incite obedience, others rebellion. And some... well, you can't have an orgy without some good, old-fashioned aphrodisiac. The music has been modulated to change the way you think. Of course it's electro-synth, what else would robots play? Slower music induces sleep; maybe you fall into a cuddle-puddle with some of your fellow kidnappees. Faster music encourages you to dance. And some music? That's what upstairs is for. Speaking of upstairs, what's an orgy without the orgy? You may find yourself auspiciously able to fill your decadent A5 squares. In a large room that seems unusually renovated, as if the robots had given it special attention just for this day, a floor covered in pillows awaits the beast with two backs. No one is turned away, and those attending will get a notification from their devices that they have received... additional credits? What could this mean? ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● N A V I G A T I O N

Comments

lelouch vi britannia | code geass

[ludicrous]

(i.) ROOFTOP

[ Be anything like him and you'll get lured to this rooftop. Someplace high but not overtly so, observing discretion over a sight that matters. As it turns out, ditching the white royal garb for civilian wear doesn't negate the adamancy of the wound in his chest. It's carefully wrapped up and well hidden away, but it continues ticking sore and incessant whether he deigns to apply too much force upon it, caged in too much pressure, too little pressure. A sharp, mutilating reminder that he's been run through with a sword returns whenever he overexerts himself.

Unrepentantly, he's people-watching. Robot-watching. His brand of voyeurism extends in particular to the pair of metal tin cans below that've been flirting with the possibility of bucking the schedule of ration distribution they've observed for the last half-hour or so. Lacking a means with which to write these details down, he's committing it all to memory instead. He's been here for a while, attentively scoping out the world below. ]

And here I thought I was exercising a healthy amount of discretion. [ Upon being observed, Lelouch observes in turn, the glimpse of his eyes beneath his lashes dark and raking. ] Congratulations on making it up here. If you'd like that, it's yours.

[ He points to the can of peaches he's set up on the railing, currently at the mercy of a tumble for which Lelouch is so, so indifferent. After his friend's last stint with canned fruit, he's resigned himself to his appetite. Should whoever's in attendance take him up on that offer, Lelouch will wave them over to, naturally, enjoy full and unembellished sight of this dump heap, a view they're both lording over right now. ]

When you look down there, what is it that you see?

(ii.) PARTY (cw: vomit... yeah)

[ Lelouch avoids the IKEA festival but can't stay away from the ensuing party afterwards, or the idea of unspoiled food. His longing for all things cream-like is perhaps his greatest character flaw, right next to an exorbitant amount of pride, which is why he's declined nearly every suspicious platter but couldn't turn down the flan and its vaguely passing resemblance to pudding. No French vanilla, but it'll do in a pinch.

And ten minutes later, in possession of a very delicate, sensitive stomach, he's just gotten over heaving his guts outside, unable to make it to a trash can in time. He's a miserable sight made even more miserable as he attempts to straighten and get a hold of his bearings. Anyone who comes by will be treated to the same tragic remark: ]

Don't eat the flan.

[ It's cursed. All of the food here is uniquely cursed, and he slumps further down where he's braced himself against the wall by his arms under the imminent threat of falling down and injuring himself further. ]

(iii.) THE PEN PROMPT (closed to suzaku)

Later. Much, much later after the proceedings have wrapped up is he testing his own commitment to maintain amicable relations with Suzaku, who is a frankly atrocious chess partner but much less shitty accomplice in crime.

They're cooped up in the church again today; Lelouch has eased open one of the window's slats a fraction to allow the air in, though it's just as insufferably musty as before, the stench sticking to absolutely everything. Glancing up from the chess board, he spells out the frightening and disturbing terms of his next order for Suzaku.

"Lend me that pen already. You've withheld it long enough."

And with that out of the way, he sets the black knight piece down, ensuring his victory. Checkmate.

(iv.) WILDCARD

( a5, permissions. brackets or prose works with me, use either and i'll match. you can find lelouch anywhere, mostly skulking around and looking like he's up to absolutely no good. any food effect or scenario is fine! pm me if you'd like me to write you a specific prompt. )

[711]

Wow, he lost yet another game, how tragic... Oh, right, Suzaku's not nearly as invested in getting bullied via chess as he is with what he's doing on the side. Namely, he's sharpening the edges of a dulled blade he'd managed to find somewhere along the outskirts of the city, but it won't be useful for much. Gutting fish, at most.

"How do you know I have a pen?"

Did you go through his pockets, Lelouch? Did you?

[ludicrous]

"You took it out yourself the other day," he comments, as idle as he is irreverent. Turning this question on him only results in another sharp reversal as Lelouch busies himself with methodically cleaning each chess piece of fingerprints, setting each ivory pawn back into the box.

Keener than the keen look Lelouch threatens him with is his tendency for ridicule, always and forever. Remember the first day they set up base here? Or is that memory purged forever from Suzaku's brain? Sad, if so. Sad.

"Slipped your mind already? Perhaps you're a good deal more forgetful than you give yourself credit for."

[711]

Pardon, Suzaku wasn't aware Lelouch was scrutinizing his every move. Other matters were more pressing when it came to getting their shoddy little base established, not that Suzaku needs to remind Lelouch of that.

Setting the knife aside, Suzaku rises, wanders over to the pulpit. On it, he'd left the pen he'd had in his pocket for who knows how long, opting to leave it here to lessen the chance of it spilling ink all over his pilot suit. Suzaku tosses the pen over to Lelouch.

"Here. What do you need a pen for, anyway?"

[ludicrous]

Catching it, Lelouch deposits the rest of his chess pieces into their allotted spaces, shutting the box like he might close a lid over a casket.

"This, primarily speaking," comes his placid reply, entreating Suzaku closer as he waves the notebook-sized object he'd safely tucked away in his prized chess set. "Someone needs to keep a record of how long we've been here, among other things."

Clearly, it's not going to be Suzaku, so he'll take the fall as he uncaps the pen. Disappointment doesn't find him yet, but it's bound to as he sets the tip of it to the page.

"Notice anything strange since we arrived?"

You know, besides the obvious.

[711]

Ah, his journal. Lelouch has always kept one, hasn't he?

Suzaku sits himself down on the pew, watches Lelouch drag that pen across the page... and it's out of ink. Ah. He'll let Lelouch catch onto that himself. Anyway.

"No," Suzaku shakes his head, tipped back to stare up at the church's vaulted ceiling. "Nothing you haven't observed yourself. You've noticed everyone comes from somewhere different, haven't you?"

Different, as in worlds apart from their own. If Lelouch has spent any amount of time conversing with the locals, he's surely realized that too.

yeah boiiii gimme dat vomit (party time)

[mcvillain]

[...and here McGillis thought he was having an awful time.

McGillis never considered himself an empathetic soul, at least not until arriving in an insufferable place that demanded it almost constantly. Falling into bed with virgins who needed careful direction; dancing with beautiful women and swearing to serve; easing off meticulous plans to rule the world in favor of simply surviving another. All distractions from a higher purpose.

All unwanted. And he doesn't particularly want to help this person, either, but he's making a fool of himself and it's embarrassment by proxy. So he steps in, sweeps him off to the side.]

Alright, alright. You've made your point.

[Flan was disgusting anyway. McGillis takes out a handkerchief, offers it to Lelouch.]

Breathe in, slowly. You'll choke otherwise.

[ludicrous]

[ It's an agony unique to him that he's a couple centimeters shy of nearly horizontal on the floor when he's helped along. This is the first time his childish palate has betrayed him so intimately, but then he's always being double-crossed these days.

Relying on the kindness of strangers is a new and thoroughly horrific low, though. ]

I can't stress this enough. Don't eat the flan.

[ Nauseous and nauseated, Lelouch shakily takes up the napkin, braced against his mouth. Give a moment to indulge in his own misery to breathe before he's at imminent risk of hacking up a lung. But also, to breathe before he can express even a fraction of his gratitude. Good grief. What a mess. ]

[mcvillain]

[Crisply:]

Sweets are for children.

[Oof. Not too kind to that poor stranger after all.

McGillis just soothes a hand over his back, positioning himself in such a way that it's much harder for any passerby to point and laugh at the unfortunate pair. As Lelouch busies himself with... well, keeping his internal organs in check while simultaneously wishing for the sweet embrace of death, McGillis glances him over. And goodness, what a catch.

If not for that deep, deep voice, he might've mistaken him for a beautiful woman. Instead, he's dealing with a gorgeous man. His eyes were striking, and he's almost impossibly slender. He's reminded of someone else, a plucky little pilot who also overestimated himself, but it's only a surface level comparison. He can tell already: this was a different person entirely.]

...are you otherwise feeling normal? Some of that food was drugged.

[Because this could turn into a dicey situation. A lot worse than vomit, that's for sure.]

[ludicrous]

[ He's just going to ignore that. There's no room in him for glibness where there is roiling queasiness.

The debilitation in him doesn't leave, even after heaving up the contents of his stomach and arguably the rest of his dignity. It's tantamount to pain, the clear, glass-sharp tilt of his voice worsening into something jagged and audibly hurting. ]

No. It was foolish to assume the desserts would be left untainted.

[ A sore underestimation in his hindsight, brought on by hunger. The room's spinning with vertigo, and Lelouch's grip over the collar of his shirt worsens, starts to resemble strangulation, scrabbling like he's trying to find purchase over his throat. The stranger's touch is unbearably heavy but the weight in him is worse. The need to retch fades but the hot fever that's been instilled into his nerves in its place is undying. ]

Some kind of... stimulant. I have good reason... to believe I've been drugged.

[ This is the part of the conversation where Lelouch slumps, well on his way to collapsing on the floor. ]

[mcvillain]

[Well, shit.

He can't say he's surprised that Lelouch managed to ingest something potentially deadly, since he fell into the same trap. But this has now escalated from soothing a stomachache into shielding someone from grave harm. He's thin, thin to the point of frailty, and coupled with that queasiness... there's no way he could defend himself. He can't overlook it. He can't ignore it.

He'd kill a thousand men and a thousand more, all in the name of a peaceful world. He's betrayed so many and would betray many more, all in the name of revolution. But no man, not a single one, deserved to have their consent violated. So McGillis Fareed could be chivalrous, if only in this context.]

I shall stay until it passes, then.

[He gathers up Lelouch in his arms, what little there was to carry, and finds a quiet corner. Noticing the strangled motions, he pulls down that restrictive collar, although he keeps his touch clinical so Lelouch doesn't misunderstand what "stay" actually means.]

Keep your thoughts clear. Focus on the floor, on a single point. And remain still.

i.

[aprilshadows]

[ upon being caught "people watching" by his target, chikage shrugs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiling faintly.

the rooftop isn't some place that one would expect to find other people given what's happening downstairs (unless it's misumi on a triangle hunt, but chikage digresses) so to find someone else already there is surprising and well, perhaps a little intriguing. ]

I'm not a fan of sweets, but thank you. [ a brief glance over at the can of peaches sitting precariously on the railing, and chikage's grin twitches once more, before he continues, gaze returning towards lelouch and sounding completely deadpan: ] You might want to consider giving out better rewards for something like this fetch quest.

[ it's meant in jest, but he'll take that invitation to move closer to the railing, though. ]

What a leading question. Are you seeing something that I can't see?

[ludicrous]

Unfortunately, I don't have anything else to give. ... That said, bartering might be an option in your future. Fruit that isn't canned is a rarity around these parts from what I've seen, but peaches are peaches. [ He crooks an index finger and invites him over like he's playing hooky after class and not a dead man coming to terms with being resurrected, but no move's made to keep those canned peaches from their tumble or Lelouch from his loquacious way of speaking. Some things never change. ] Since I'm giving these up with no-strings-attached, you've got every right to be suspicious. Who knows what I've done to them?

[ Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. He's just got to get his daily dose of philosophizing in somewhere, in the only viable way he can: currying favor from strangers. Suzaku's not all that great of a debate partner, admittedly. ]

... Other than that, I see the same thing you do, give or take differences in eyesight. [ His right arm dramatically sweeps the air like it's a grand vista instead of derelict street they're both looking down upon, prompting yet again the same question, this time implied. What is it that you see? ] But that's all the more reason to ask, I suppose. Call it idle curiosity. I've been up here longer than you might think. I could use some company while I wait.

2, shows up with a snack pack in hand

[photog]

[alerted to the sound of wet heaving a few meters off, Prompto tries to find the source of it, determined to see if he can help whoever's out there having a rough time. he's pretty much done with the giant party, opting to go for a walk after having his caloric intake burned off by dancing like the world wasn't watching... and well after the copious amounts of drugged food has had their effects worn off. needless to say, he's a little more than embarrassed, so! yeah, it was supposed to be a simple walk "home" for the evening.

on his initial approach, his eyebrows furrow as he watches another man trouble himself trying to stand up straight. he doesn't know who this is, but they look like they need a hand, and he's sympathetic as he offers some assistance.]

Noted, but typically where I come from, the flan eats you. [it's true, and he has multiple, multiple pictures to back that one up.] Are you okay? Do you need someone to hold your hair back for you?

[ludicrous]

[ Predicating this whole encounter is the union between the churning directives of his stomach and the spasming part of his throat that plans to hurl again, and would do so if he didn't heave everything up already. Braced against the wall, he considers those words, runs them through the filter of his brain, considers them again. Honestly, he's so confused? Did he hear that right? Is he this drugged? ]

That doesn't make sense. ... Flans can't eat people, generally... generally speaking.

[ In his own world, evidently so. Perhaps it stands for something else. But Lelouch can't inquire further when he's preoccupied with wiping off his mouth, eventually relenting to stand with the wall awkwardly braced as his support. ]

I merely overestimated myself. [ And overestimated the food, an accident he won't make again. Lelouch shakes his head. ] So no need.

[ But he's still weak in the knees, arms spaghetti, as he straightens... and slumps back down a couple seconds later. This is so humiliating. ]

[photog]

[there's a completely legitimate and valid reason that Prompto won't eat jello or gelatin snacks, but that's a story for a time when he's not anxiously noting someone close to the brink of collapsing. he's had the food here, nothing gave him a reaction anywhere near that at all, and he's worried that they've moved on from drugging the inhabitants of the island into having sex with one another to straight up poisoning them for non-compliance.

either way, he moves forward, thinking that his confidence in his okay-ness is severely overestimated, if anything. without asking if he's okay or reiterating his offer to help, Prompto's there, and he lowers down to help Lelouch stay upright, if anything to avoid that "uhp, there goes gravity" moment that's going to end up with him face down and ass up, but markedly different than the people he saw upstairs in the party room tonight.

right.

his eyebrows furrow downward.]

It's cool, we've all been there before. [he addresses the humiliation right away, since he's got a phD in social anxiety.] You probably need to let the rest of it out, though.

[ludicrous]

[ Right.

Implausibly, Lelouch somehow manages to stave off hurling chunks even after being giving permission. He does, however, relent to that hand, now back upright, though shame's still skittering its way through him like wind chimes in a stray breeze. ]

... No, I think that was all of it.

[ Legitimacy of such concerns like another bout of vomiting aside. Lelouch shakes his head, clearing himself of that last bout of nausea and casually crumpling the napkin he'd foisted from the party in one hand. ]

You were leaving the gathering, correct? I do have some questions, if you'd be willing to answer them.

I

[automatized]

I've had my fill.

[ the rooftop population has been exploding recently. vidar has also met someone that way, though to be fair, the other man he spotted first from his gundam. this time around, he just wanted air, having been stuck down the gathering for far too long.

vidar's voice is altered by that mask; it sounds robotic, just shy of being human. at his question, he tilts his head, his mask gleaming in the light. ]

What kind of answer are you looking for?

[ludicrous]

[ It's okay. The last guy didn't want this accursed fruit, either.

Lelouch nearly mistakes him for a part of the robot population with a mask like that, the metal of it scintillant, adding to disconcertion rather than subtracting from it. All at once, he's listening intently to the crisp modulation (voice changer?), half-expecting him to remove it and find himself staring back at some kind of automaton.

But this stranger's already spoken of more than the auspice that comes with sexual depravity, so naturally his thoughts drift to Zero. Zero, and the mask he'd donned once, the painstaking lengths he'd undergone to conceal his identity. It's a conscious effort on Lelouch's part, keeping his posture open and relaxed when he's instantly on-guard. ]

Whatever answer you're willing to give.

[ Anything goes. ]

[automatized]

How curious.

Whatever's down there, I guess. People, buildings, places. The layout of the land.

Anything different would require a substantial shift in the kind of person you can be.

What do you see?

[ vidar just watches. it's curious how much effort he puts in on being open and relaxed. he'd like to establish himself as not a threat, but that kind of thing doesn't always go well. after all, not everyone has that luxury.

so he keeps it simple. hands where they can be seen, even if vidar himself isn't as open and welcoming like most. he lost that ability a long time ago; now, he's just a ghost. ]

[ludicrous]

That's a very logical answer.

[ Black-and-white mentality, emotionless or putting on the airs of emotionlessness. Lelouch watches back, like this is some sick ouroboros between them, one reaction feeding into the other, speaking from one ghost to another. The absence of expression removes a degree of certainty, but plenty of people can wear masks without having to resort to the physicality of one.

Like now, the glint of his eyes far too keen, serrating the ploy of complacency. From the beginning, he's never been able to fully master the act. ]

The same thing as you, at first glance. [ What a tepid response. ] Though what I really see is a puzzle. I thought I'd be able to figure it out if I kept staring.

[ He'll invite him over for the threat that he is with one hand, gesturing out over the railing. Lelouch has his handgun on him, the same one he carried with him that fateful day, but he isn't expecting to pull it out here regardless. ]

...they act without rhyme or reason. I imagined observing them might yield some clues, but no dice.

[ Never mind that he's already dismantled one, sorted through its innards to no avail. It's not worth mentioning, better a secret he keeps to himself. ]

What brings you up here?

here we go... rooftop

[vanguarda]

Don't mind if I do!

[he's not sure why he is being congratulated, or why he's getting a prize simply for arriving at the roof, but he's not going to question it too much. perhaps he should, but zack thinks there are more pressing things to think about right now. as it were, he does a friendly wave gesture in front of his face before grabbing at the canned peaches.]

[he will also sit himself on the ledge after setting his sword down against the wall; like a kid having lunch at school, zack peels back the lid and worries at drinking up some of the juice that covers the fruit.]

[it's very sweet.]

Hm? Down there? [zack glances over his shoulder.] A pretty broken city.

[he tilts the can upwards, just so he can bite into a slice of peach.]

IT BEGINS

[ludicrous]

[ NO, ZACK...... don't eat that, it's the same ominous brand of canned peaches that Suzaku ate and high-key suffered over for the next several hours.

But Lelouch isn't beholden to it to the same moral directives, observing him for any change in reaction on the roulette wheel of sweet snack to sweet disaster. Every discovery comes with a sacrifice. He was going to eat them himself if the first few people who dropped by didn't bother taste-testing a small sample, which doesn't mean shit when Zack's absolved him of that responsibility. ]

Nothing else? [ His fingers drum over the railing, nonplussed. ] ... Haven't you noticed? At this hour, you'd expect to hear insects.

[ Moths, flies, grasshoppers and crickets, wasps, mosquitos, a sign of life even in the middle of oblivion. Every city he's traversed to has shown signs of life, even in just what's observed.

But everything's so still, so quiet. Not even a bird can be observed in the sky, no stray animals prowling the streets; for as long as he's been here, besides the occasional visitor wandering in from darkness, only silence has found him. ]

There isn't anything like that here.

[vanguarda]

[that's too bad, the peaches are his and he will be consuming them without remorse.]

[zack quirks a brow at the question, and then the observation about the insects or other animals that should be pushing their way to noticeability this time of the day. he ponders over it for a moment, glancing over at lelouch and then outwards, chewing on the peaches.]

[—that's right. it's pretty silent.]

The place's abandoned far as we can tell. Maybe nothing was left behind. [but usually nature thrives, right?] We might be the first here in a while.

[ludicrous]

[ That's one way to live, life on the slivered edge of a knife that threatens to cut into even mortality. Coincidentally, that's also one way to die, presumably cursing the terror that is food poisoning all the while.

Donning placidity, Lelouch folds his arms, gauging him. ]

And yet here we are. Considering the situation, any number of variables can be at play. What matters is eliminating what's 'impossible' until we're naturally left with the obvious. [ But Lelouch is dead as a doornail from what he's last remembered, hence the question he poses now: ] What do you remember before arriving here?

[ It couldn't be some miserable death gunned down in the badlands, an event that'd fracture a certain friend's psyche irreparably. Not even. ]