Paul Atreides (
terriblepurpose) wrote in
deercountry2022-11-01 11:18 pm
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l’s escape room birthday | every second dripping off my fingertips
Who: ‘Lazarus Sauveterre’ (L Lawliet) and select friends
What: L’s Depraved Escape Room Hellromp
When: October 31st
Where: A reclaimed house in Gaze
Content warnings: Underage drinking, psychological horror, eventual cosmic horror, suggestive MSPaint drawings (displayed in tags)
At an abandoned house towards the edge of Gaze, although not that one, someone has been extraordinarily busy on very short notice. Directions to the party may only be obtained from the guest of honour himself or the chief planner, hand drawn maps distributed on scrolls tied with black ribbon. These maps lead to a dilapidated seeming two story home constructed in a typical Trench style, festooned with towerlets and dark, leering windows.
Inside the house, however, the first two rooms of the house will be what most people might expect of a party: in contradiction of the exterior, the sitting room and the dining room have been thoroughly cleaned and redecorated in an elegant black and grey theme.
In the sitting room, a fire crackles invitingly at one end, surrounded by comfortable couches and chairs, while the other half of the room is open for mingling or dancing near the old-fashioned looking (but thoroughly modern in its interior) phonograph, into which requests from the musical library of DeerNet may be fed.
The dining room is dominated by a long table of desserts of all kinds, from rainbow bowls of hard candy to sculpted chocolates to stacks of little cakes and pastries on serving towers. Those in search of savoury fare will come up nearly empty-handed, save for a cheese plate or two interspersed throughout. On the side tables, bottles of liquors and liqueurs alternate with tea and coffee services, along with a selection of juices, sparkling waters, and other mixers.
The adjoining restroom even has little charcoal soaps carved into whimsical, seasonally appropriate shapes, to complete the welcoming and convivial atmosphere, which is a good thing, because there’s one catch that the invitations failed to mention:
After the guests have all arrived, none of them are leaving through the door they entered through, because it (like the back door, and the windows) has been altered to only open from the outside.
Welcome to Lazarus Sauveterre’s birthday puzzle box. Enjoy your exploration of the rest of the house - or, if so inclined, stick to the front rooms. After all, someone is sure to figure it out before morning.
(Costumes are optional, but encouraged.)
The Ceremony Room
The first room down the hall from the sitting and dining rooms is full of the obvious remnants of an invocation: half-melted black candles, a runic circle carved meticulously into the bare hardwood floor, a stone altar topped with bowls of salt, water, and iridescent oil.
It is also obvious from the char marks and smoke stains on the peeling wallpaper that something may not have gone as planned. Keen eyes will notice that among other piles of flaked off paper are scraps of notes written in runes that match those on the floor.
This room will be most easily solved by party goers familiar with the occult and ritual.
The Library
Further down the hall lies a modest library. The bookshelves here are in disarray, with no immediately obvious rhyme or reason to their organization. Even the books themselves are at all angles with each other, crammed sideways, upside down, and backwards between mismatched bookends and musty, half-dead potted plants. Three tables of differing make are centered in a triangle at the library’s heart, covered in loose papers filled with a script that does not lend itself to easy deciphering.
Fresh paper and pencils are stacked on the small, cleared desk by the door, evidently for guest’s use.
The secrets of this room are best discerned by those with an interest in linguistics and cryptography.
The Study
Just off of the library, this smaller room is dominated by a massive wooden desk, heavy cabinets, and a squatting iron-bound chest. All of them are locked, and the keyhooks beneath an oil painting of the sea and above the back of the desk are conspicuously empty. If the investigators wish to rifle through the home owner’s hidden items and correspondence, they’ll need to be deft of hand and sharp of eye - and perhaps, if all else fails, thoughtful about construction.
What is hidden here will be quickest found by sneak thieves and the mechanically inclined.
The Laboratory
On the second floor, to the left of the stairs, lies a room neater than most left in the house. Racks of glassware compete with disassembled clockwork mechanisms for space on the counters lining the walls, and those familiar with the scientific (or pseudo-scientific) process will notice swiftly that it seems a series of experiments were being documented on the blackboard that dominates one end of the room. Other notes are scattered throughout the room in disorder, inviting the guests to piece together this mystery in both time and space.
Those with experience in rigorous study and the natural sciences will find this room a surmountable challenge.
The Observatory
The largest room on the top floor boasts a telescope mounted in a rotating dome that may be turned by the means of a hand crank on the wall, which spins a central platform via some cunning hidden mechanism in the floor. Those who put their eyes to the telescope will be treated to a dazzling view of Trench’s night sky, dotted with stars.
On the walls of this room hang a series of clocks of various makes and models, not one of which is set to the right time, and all of which are paired to a star chart that depicts no night sky that may be seen through the telescope.
Those who star gaze or devote themselves to numbers will have the best luck here.
The Guest Bedroom
What was once a modest guest bedroom adjacent to the observatory has been rifled through by someone on a less delicate mission than the puzzle solvers. The armoire hangs open with the spare sheets and towels inside ripped out and discarded, while the sunken mattress has been slashed with a blade and divested of fistfuls of tufted fiber in search of something. The knife in question may be found at the dressing table tucked into a corner, sticking out upright above the drawer someone pried apart with it.
Next to it: a guest book, of the old-fashioned kind, intended for each visitor to the room to add a greeting and a few memories of their stay. Between its leather cover, it seems the guests of this house prior to this party had a great deal to jot down, and some of them even seemed to have used it to discuss a certain upcoming matter between themselves…
The secrets of this room will reveal themselves most readily to those with profiling and associative skills.
(The master bedroom across the hall is only a comfortable room, cleaner than the rest of the house, with a soft bed and a door that locks from the inside.)
The Hidden Chamber
Beneath the house, the last room may be found once all the other rooms are solved, concealed at the bottom of a narrow staircase. It is a small, spare room, all of it one apparently seamless stone enclosure, and in its center rests a plain white cloth, an empty silver bowl, a hand mirror in a silver frame, and a fresh white candle set into a candle holder made of a black crystal geode.
No special skill is needed to solve this room. Only a clever mind is required to apprehend the room’s purpose and locate the key.
[The mystery spreadsheet for clues and solutions is here. The purpose of these prompts is not to create a mystery for you, the players, but an in character framework for setting up puzzle solving for the characters.]
What: L’s Depraved Escape Room Hellromp
When: October 31st
Where: A reclaimed house in Gaze
Content warnings: Underage drinking, psychological horror, eventual cosmic horror, suggestive MSPaint drawings (displayed in tags)
At an abandoned house towards the edge of Gaze, although not that one, someone has been extraordinarily busy on very short notice. Directions to the party may only be obtained from the guest of honour himself or the chief planner, hand drawn maps distributed on scrolls tied with black ribbon. These maps lead to a dilapidated seeming two story home constructed in a typical Trench style, festooned with towerlets and dark, leering windows.
Inside the house, however, the first two rooms of the house will be what most people might expect of a party: in contradiction of the exterior, the sitting room and the dining room have been thoroughly cleaned and redecorated in an elegant black and grey theme.
In the sitting room, a fire crackles invitingly at one end, surrounded by comfortable couches and chairs, while the other half of the room is open for mingling or dancing near the old-fashioned looking (but thoroughly modern in its interior) phonograph, into which requests from the musical library of DeerNet may be fed.
The dining room is dominated by a long table of desserts of all kinds, from rainbow bowls of hard candy to sculpted chocolates to stacks of little cakes and pastries on serving towers. Those in search of savoury fare will come up nearly empty-handed, save for a cheese plate or two interspersed throughout. On the side tables, bottles of liquors and liqueurs alternate with tea and coffee services, along with a selection of juices, sparkling waters, and other mixers.
The adjoining restroom even has little charcoal soaps carved into whimsical, seasonally appropriate shapes, to complete the welcoming and convivial atmosphere, which is a good thing, because there’s one catch that the invitations failed to mention:
After the guests have all arrived, none of them are leaving through the door they entered through, because it (like the back door, and the windows) has been altered to only open from the outside.
Welcome to Lazarus Sauveterre’s birthday puzzle box. Enjoy your exploration of the rest of the house - or, if so inclined, stick to the front rooms. After all, someone is sure to figure it out before morning.
(Costumes are optional, but encouraged.)
The Ceremony Room
The first room down the hall from the sitting and dining rooms is full of the obvious remnants of an invocation: half-melted black candles, a runic circle carved meticulously into the bare hardwood floor, a stone altar topped with bowls of salt, water, and iridescent oil.
It is also obvious from the char marks and smoke stains on the peeling wallpaper that something may not have gone as planned. Keen eyes will notice that among other piles of flaked off paper are scraps of notes written in runes that match those on the floor.
This room will be most easily solved by party goers familiar with the occult and ritual.
The Library
Further down the hall lies a modest library. The bookshelves here are in disarray, with no immediately obvious rhyme or reason to their organization. Even the books themselves are at all angles with each other, crammed sideways, upside down, and backwards between mismatched bookends and musty, half-dead potted plants. Three tables of differing make are centered in a triangle at the library’s heart, covered in loose papers filled with a script that does not lend itself to easy deciphering.
Fresh paper and pencils are stacked on the small, cleared desk by the door, evidently for guest’s use.
The secrets of this room are best discerned by those with an interest in linguistics and cryptography.
The Study
Just off of the library, this smaller room is dominated by a massive wooden desk, heavy cabinets, and a squatting iron-bound chest. All of them are locked, and the keyhooks beneath an oil painting of the sea and above the back of the desk are conspicuously empty. If the investigators wish to rifle through the home owner’s hidden items and correspondence, they’ll need to be deft of hand and sharp of eye - and perhaps, if all else fails, thoughtful about construction.
What is hidden here will be quickest found by sneak thieves and the mechanically inclined.
The Laboratory
On the second floor, to the left of the stairs, lies a room neater than most left in the house. Racks of glassware compete with disassembled clockwork mechanisms for space on the counters lining the walls, and those familiar with the scientific (or pseudo-scientific) process will notice swiftly that it seems a series of experiments were being documented on the blackboard that dominates one end of the room. Other notes are scattered throughout the room in disorder, inviting the guests to piece together this mystery in both time and space.
Those with experience in rigorous study and the natural sciences will find this room a surmountable challenge.
The Observatory
The largest room on the top floor boasts a telescope mounted in a rotating dome that may be turned by the means of a hand crank on the wall, which spins a central platform via some cunning hidden mechanism in the floor. Those who put their eyes to the telescope will be treated to a dazzling view of Trench’s night sky, dotted with stars.
On the walls of this room hang a series of clocks of various makes and models, not one of which is set to the right time, and all of which are paired to a star chart that depicts no night sky that may be seen through the telescope.
Those who star gaze or devote themselves to numbers will have the best luck here.
The Guest Bedroom
What was once a modest guest bedroom adjacent to the observatory has been rifled through by someone on a less delicate mission than the puzzle solvers. The armoire hangs open with the spare sheets and towels inside ripped out and discarded, while the sunken mattress has been slashed with a blade and divested of fistfuls of tufted fiber in search of something. The knife in question may be found at the dressing table tucked into a corner, sticking out upright above the drawer someone pried apart with it.
Next to it: a guest book, of the old-fashioned kind, intended for each visitor to the room to add a greeting and a few memories of their stay. Between its leather cover, it seems the guests of this house prior to this party had a great deal to jot down, and some of them even seemed to have used it to discuss a certain upcoming matter between themselves…
The secrets of this room will reveal themselves most readily to those with profiling and associative skills.
(The master bedroom across the hall is only a comfortable room, cleaner than the rest of the house, with a soft bed and a door that locks from the inside.)
The Hidden Chamber
Beneath the house, the last room may be found once all the other rooms are solved, concealed at the bottom of a narrow staircase. It is a small, spare room, all of it one apparently seamless stone enclosure, and in its center rests a plain white cloth, an empty silver bowl, a hand mirror in a silver frame, and a fresh white candle set into a candle holder made of a black crystal geode.
No special skill is needed to solve this room. Only a clever mind is required to apprehend the room’s purpose and locate the key.
[The mystery spreadsheet for clues and solutions is here. The purpose of these prompts is not to create a mystery for you, the players, but an in character framework for setting up puzzle solving for the characters.]
no subject
It's time for Paul to face the consequences of his actions.
The WC door firmly closes and locks. Relief at being away from all those eyes comes over Midoriya, perceptible by a slight exhale before Paul needlessly pulls him in by a handful of sheet, suit jacket, and tie. In a flurry of gaudy costumed drapery, he pins Paul against the door, which complains with an echoing thud and rattle in its frame. (He has learned that Paul enjoys being pinned against things.)
He is dimly aware of something soft falling to the ground--Paul's hat probably--but he's too busy trying to wipe that smug look off his face. Paul is flushed warm and tastes of whatever he's been drinking. Midoriya exhales again hotly through his nose and runs his hands roughly down his front.
no subject
It wouldn't do to have lines spoiling his outfit. The vulnerability that choice created was one that Paul decided was worth the trade off, and with only a single layer of thin false velvet between his skin and Midoriya's he is fervently grateful for his for once inadvertent foresight.
"Izu," he murmurs headily into Midoriya's demanding mouth, kneading into his shoulder with one hand while he hooks fingers into his belt loops with the other. He craves the heated press of Midoriya's strength, and when Paul nips at his lower lip it's sharp and certain with challenge.
(His hat sits upside down in an empty wastebasket, as unnoticed and unimportant as the door.)
no subject
"Got nervous... and you were grinning..." he breathes incoherently in the barest pause between working Paul's lips open and overlaying their taste with the delicate flavor of a seasonal cider--lined with teeth. The jostling untucks his shirt, and he can feel the brush of Paul's fingers against the sliver of skin above his belt. He stifles a moan.
Midoriya's hands find and firmly trace the crests of Paul's slim hips through his robe, circling around to palm up the two thin saplings of muscle on either side of his spine. Touching and holding with his hands gives him great joy. If he can give as asked and care for another enough, they will feel safe, and if they feel safe, nothing can harm them.
He runs his hands up Paul's neck to either side of his face, fingers burying themselves in his curls. Paul had his moment to move sinuously against his touch, but now Midoriya traps him against the door with the unyielding length of his own body and another smaller thud. The time-honored tradition of young people making out in secluded spaces at parties seems to have shaken off Midoriya's petrification and returned him to his true self.
no subject
(And it does feel safe. It feels like being able to let go, to give in. To be held together by someone else's hands for a while.)
"Is that," he manages, ducking his head to feel the tug of his hand caught in battle-roughened fingers, "All it takes? Should-"
He slides the pad of his thumb up over Midoriya's taut abdominals as his other slips further up to cradle the nape of Midoriya's neck, his fingers sinking into green curls like an eager partial mirror of those in his own hair. He seems to appreciate the taste of cider.
"-make you nervous more often-"
It's babble that will degenerate in no time at all, even Paul's clever tongue only able to sustain so much multitasking at once. He could be reciting the names of clouds in this low, awed voice reserved for only these moments, and it would mean the same thing: an invitation to help him be quieted, at least when it comes to speech.
no subject
He draws his head back just enough to meet his eyes again, green to green. A bit of glitter from Paul's cheek limns the tip of Midoriya's nose. He breathes,
"This is why Kaworu-kun always tells you to shut up--"
And why Midoriya usually doesn't have to--if he isn't rambling incoherently himself. He's better at being bold with his actions than his mouth--but he puts his mouth to work anyway, pressing steadfastly and slipping his tongue in to hush Paul's. His fingers find his ear, trace its curve and the piercing there, and his thumb circles the softer skin just below where his jaw meets his neck. His other hand winds fingers more securely into Paul's curls before gripping them.
you probably don't want to read this at work (ongoing)
Paul curls the tip of his tongue under Midoriya's in encouragement, humming blissfully at the increased tension in his hair and petting of sensitive skin. Escalation slips his hand under Midoriya's shirt to splay over the arch of his warm lower back, and he kisses back with the abandon of someone who has forgotten that people watched them disappear here for their little discussion of the premise of the game.
Of course, there are also limits to how far they can go here without being the worst of all things, inconsiderate hosts, but Paul - apparently eager to find out if he can leave an imprint of his shoulderblades in the door via Midoriya applied pressure alone - has a thing about limits.
Re: you probably don't want to read this at work (ongoing)
He extricates himself from Paul’s mouth, lips overly warm, slick, and softened. He marks a damp trail along his jaw and comes to his destination at the enticing line of Paul's neck. There he plants his mark, sucks and teases it with his teeth, and signs his handiwork with a parting lave of his tongue.
He relents the press of their bodies only enough to run his hand down his front, this time slowly, letting his thumb draw carefully-applied circles where he hopes to draw out more lilting notes. His large eyes take him in. He has always carefully watched people he admires, Paul included. His examination is shameless; Paul has said he likes it when someone likes what they see.
He has found that Paul likes to test limits in his explorations, whether it be finding a weird mushroom in a dangerous place or coming up with a disarming party game. Wearing more layers and not quite as vulnerable to sensation, Midoriya is in a position to be the voice of reason despite his eagerness to answer Paul’s every invitation. Midoriya isn't heady with alcohol either, at most a light buzz. He always intended to be available to help in the event the main host is busy or--indisposed.
If only he could stop being so flustered.
"Are--are you trying to start more rumors,” a heated exhalation poorly passed off as indignation as he colors, “about me doing stuff in bathrooms?” He gasps against his lips in time with the firm lurching he is reluctant to stop, “There's not enough time, you know." Not enough time to give him everything in the way he imagines, and, he is sure, the way Paul is imagining him.
nsfw
When he opens his eyes is when he realized he closed them in the first place to focus on the deft, hot tease of Midoriya's mouth, and dampness clings to his eyelashes as he meets Midoriya's heated gaze with dazzled wonder. He hitches up under Midoriya's circling thumb with a low, needy keen, arching into the imperfect pressure and friction of the rhythm they're building between them like an electric charge.
"I'm not," he protests, breathy and tremulous, "You brought us in- ah."
There isn't enough time, but Midoriya is right about Paul's fevered imagination. He wants to keep Midoriya's hand in his hair, to peel him out of his restrictive formal clothing and nuzzle against the flat plane of his stomach on his way to the floor. He scrapes his nails lightly across Midoriya's back with a shiver at the self-summoned image.
"There's a bedroom upstairs. We could - later - ?" He murmurs, husky and pleading.
nsfw, unless,
He muffles his moan on Paul's mouth lest he be too loud when Paul employs the use of nails to eke out lines in coral pink. It tightens the muscles underneath and arches him against Paul and the unforgiving door. They're two nearly stripped wires hastily bound together and sparking dangerously. Midoriya wants the particular whispering sensation of Paul's deft fingers making short work of his tie and undoing his buttons. He wants to study his bare agile lines with his hands as if he's never seen him before--
"W-When all these people are still in the house?" he blurts out, coming to a full stop. "Who's gonna stop them from knocking on the door? Aren't we gonna clean up after the party's over and go home?"
Nobody parties like this nerd.
unless,
"You're right." He's still smiling as he slides his hand out from underneath Midoriya's shirt and starts to ever so helpfully tuck it back in for him, hand only a little clumsy as he works his way around Midoriya's waist. It's an imperfect job, but it's an excuse to linger close.
"I wasn't thinking. It's a good thing I have you, don't I?" Another kiss, this one to the top of his cheekbone, bringing Paul's lips close to his ear. "We'll clean up after, and go home, and I'll make up it up to you there for making you nervous."
Treacherously, his tongue comes out to trace the curve of Midoriya's earlobe, and he teases mercilessly: "Unless we were quick."
unless,,, it's nsfw again
Midoriya still doesn't know about the glitter on his nose, but Paul stands a chance of catching some on his lips. He closes his eyes as Paul kisses him. Midoriya's curls stand on end when tousled. He lets out a soft sound of mild surprise when Paul licks him, but it's lost in his shock at the next merciless betrayal and the sound of his hips reflexively driving Paul's into the door again, just once. His hand tightens in his hair.
"I don't want to be quick," he breathes as he presses his stinging mouth against Paul's. "I'm not done with you."
The thumb of his free hand burnishes the new mark where Paul's skin blooms dark pink over the pulse of life.
"It would be nice to rest after we're all done without having to go home at night. If no one needs the bed, we can ask Kaworu-kun if he'd like to stay."
He thinks it's a big "if." There's alcohol here, and comforts must be ceded to guests first.
nsfw profaning this wholesome party
He attempts to nod first, which only sparks more near-pain in the roots of his hair. It's no less punishment that he deserves for the contradictory tilt of his hips and the shameless arch of his neck under Midoriya's touch.
"Yes, sir," he murmurs, and even he doesn't know how much he's teasing and how much he's in earnest. He might have swallowed a whole mouthful of glitter to flood his belly with, the way he feels, or downed a bottle of pale sparkling wine.
He very nearly squirms again, but that's not exactly the kind of people pleaser he is. Midoriya wants to take his time. He wants Paul to be patient, so Paul will be patient, and let patience whet want to an even keener edge.
"I'm sure he'll want to stay," he says, mustering his most insouciant charm with only a slight wobble, "You know how he is about getting into bed."
Which is really more a single entendre than a double, but Paul isn't counting.
wholesome party full of murderers
"Y-Yes."
He wants to hide his face by kissing his neck again, but then they'd never leave. As taken aback as he is, he meets Paul's eyes, green on green. He releases Paul with a lingering brush of fingers down hair and neck and gaudy blue robe. It is a gentle touch to follow the rough ones--a reminder that, for all their rough play, Midoriya puts Paul's heart and wellbeing first.
To leave, he must allow a sliver of air to come between them and cut the feedback loop they created together. His eyes flick downward then up again, and his face turns even pinker.
"You should, um, rest in here a bit before leaving."
no one is being actively murdered though...except decency
Experiments are worth repeating to validate the results. Paul wants to know if he can make Midoriya flush that brightly with a single syllable again. It's only natural to be curious, like it's only natural for him to sigh softly as Midoriya pets him into a half-melted relaxation against the door.
Which is precisely where he can't stay, so he levers himself off it to stand on legs more liquid than they have any right to be, bending over to retrieve his hat from the wastebasket so he can brush it off with high points of colour still in his own cheeks. He has the grace to look a little sheepish, and the pride to look a little smug, even with the - situation - Midoriya has tactfully called his attention to.
"That's...a good idea." Paul slips by Midoriya with one last light touch to his waist on his way to perch on the flat edge of the bathtub. He sits very carefully, hat set in his lap just so, and bites his lip as he braces his hands at his sides and looks up.
"I liked that," he says, softly, whimsy set aside.
rip
As Paul sheds his devilishness for a moment, Midoriya looks over his shoulder with wide eyes, and he so nearly gives in to that soft voice made closer by the cramped walls of an old-fashioned water closet. Midoriya's tongue shyly darts out to moisten the bite on his lip. Dryness makes it sting; wetness makes it sting. It's painful desire tantalizingly caught and not fulfilled--yet.
He feels like he will drown if he opens his mouth to speak. Words are a little beyond him. He signs his name in reply instead, fuzzily like the static sparks between his ears, slowly like the drip of honey. Paul.
He will not cover his face with the hood of his costume and slink out like he's done crime. A Hero should face the music, no matter how many voices make the choir. He steels himself, wrenches the door open, and marches out intrepidly with head held high.