kenoslogs | taxfest log

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taxfest log | open

Who: Alenroux residents and visitors!
What: It's Taxfest: an Abadaran holy day celebrating the local community on the day taxes are collected
Where: The settlement in Alenroux
When: Mid April (Pelu)
Warnings: None expected (Warn as appropriate in headers!)

A HOLY DAY FOR TAXES

Every spring, after last year’s profits have been tallied and Alenroux’s snowy winter has melted away, the time comes for the local citizens to bequeath a portion of their earnings back to the growing little town; it’s tax season.

Over the past century, a tradition has grown in the quaint little settlement, influenced by the local church of Abadar: the holy celebration of Taxfest. On this special day, citizens celebrate the town, each other, and the future they hope to build together. It is a day for business, but also for contemplation, as priests cite the public works the citizens’ past contributions have funded and speak on those planned in coming years.

The business of the day is conducted in person. Rather than mailing cheques, residents hand theirs directly to collectors who go door to door all throughout the day, each accompanied by one of the temple priests or acolytes, who observe to ensure the proceedings are respectful and just. Abadar’s clergy thank each citizen for their contributions, offer comfort to the poor, and hear any concerns or suggestions about how the money should be best used.

Throughout the day, tax collectors from the town can be seen accompanied by white-robed acolytes, or priests in yellow-trimmed raiment. Aside from these busy individuals, most of the town’s folk spend their day on leisure, having earned a respite from the last year’s labours.

~~EVENING~~ AFTERNOON FESTIVITIES

Traditionally, the festivities of Taxfest would begin with sunset. Due to Alenroux’s 48-hour day–night cycles, however, business is typically concluded well before noon, and the day’s celebrations begin when the sun is still high in the sky. Just as the morning had been dedicated to reflection on the year’s efforts, so the rest of the day is spent in celebration. Local tradition dictates that partying hard on Taxfest both honours the work of the past year and brings good luck in the one to come, so locals and visitors alike are encouraged to let their hair down and enjoy themselves thoroughly.

Throughout the town, entertainment and refreshments are on offer, organized by the Abadar’s temple and provided by local businesses. Offerings vary by neighbourhood, and over the years different parts of town have become a little competitive over who can throw the best festival celebration. Priests officially begin the festivities with a brief dedication to Abadar, to Alenroux’s town and to its people, and the rest of the day is devoted solely to merriment.

On the town’s eastern side, a spacious park hosts a cheerful, whirling mass of dancers in groups or in pairs, dancing to the tunes of talented musicians from around town. Food and drink stalls line the perimeter, luring people from their revels with sweet and savoury scents.

One of the stalls, selling little sweet buns with coins stamped on them, swears it’s good luck to find someone bearing a coloured token matching one you find inside your own bun. (Not all the buns have tokens, of course, so better buy a few!) Those with matching tokens will feel more trust and closeness with their matched person for the rest of the festival.

A broad plaza on the town’s west side sports a slightly more carnival air, with entertainers and game stalls taking up much of the available space, some offering rather strange prizes. One of the games, involving a spinning wheel covered with paper balloons, advertises a free drink at the associated tavern for anyone who can hit five balloons without hitting any “bad” ones. Bad balloons will burst in a puff of coloured smoke, causing a minor magic effect lasting for the next hour:

• Higher or lower voice
• Slight intoxication
• Ability to blow smoke or bubbles
• Small objects you hold float away (for a while) if released
• Small objects you touch stick to you as though magnetic
• Other harmless, temporary effects (Pick your own!)
In front of Abadar’s church, the clergy themselves host a cheerful (if quite obviously religious) celebration with tables of food and a hearty ration of wine for everyone in attendance. This year, it seems the clergy member to bless the wine was over-zealous, as partaking may instill feelings of contemplation even in those disinclined to melancholy. Hymns to Abadar are sung, and everyone who attends is given a token for an extra wine ration, which can be traded in by those who attend a church service within the next month.

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[Oddly, as much as he does not want to put fangs in anyone, he has... maybe a bit more trust in doing so with Liem considering. He thinks Liem, as a dhampir, might have stronger resistances to his bite than others. It's safer this way, that's what he tells himself.

There is only a moment of thoughtful consideration.

He reaches out, settling his thumb right below Liem's bottom lip on the chin and forefinger beneath it; he tips Liem's head back a little, baring more of Liem's neck, not forceful yet in a way that really says Liem shouldn't move it. The heavy, sultry aura rises up and crashes over Liem like a small wave, the foam of it tickling his insides.

The hand disappears, brushing down the front of Liem's neck until the long fingers dip into the top of the collar. D isn't rude about it; his nails carefully work the collar open.]

I can't guarantee the bite won't affect you in some way. That you won't be connected to me. I can't return the favor either. My blood is poisonous.

So this is your last chance to change your mind.

[Liem’s delusion that he’s going to be able to politely, helpfully let D drink some of his blood like a friendly colleague lasts up until the other man reaches out to grasp his chin and lightly tip his head back. The visceral, carnal reaction that seizes him is immediate; he can’t even discern if the sudden swell of lust travelling down his spine is due to any supernatural influence on D’s part, because unfortunately for Liem this is a completely standard way to feel about a tall, attractive man unexpectedly manhandling any part of him.]

It’s poisonous?

[He has the gall to be shocked about this, in no small part due to the mysterious way the warm fingers brushing his throat seem to have gotten rid of his brain-to-mouth filter. It seems wrong that D’s blood would be toxic when he looks and smells so nice.

Flushed and wide-eyed and still as a mouse caught in the stare of a cat, Liem belatedly realizes his surprise might read (not entirely wrongly) as disappointment. Despite the fact that D is actively preparing to bite him at that very moment, this makes embarrassment bloom, dusky as a bruise, beneath his skin.]

That doesn’t matter. [The poison blood, or the other warnings—although some of those things really should matter, actually. But the need to be touched is beating urgently through him now, and the dangers he should be considering seem unimportant next to it.] I don’t need it.

[It’s fine. He has food at home.]

It was made to be poisonous to others.

[His long fingers push by the open collar, widening it a bit more before the hand slides around the curve of Liem's neck. The thumb strokes the front from collarbone to beneath the chin.

He wouldn't admit it, but there is a sliver of amusement at the conversational retreat. Lime has food at home... That may not stop Liem from having a snack elsewhere some time or another.]

If you say so.

[This is given earnestly actually. He does not mind what seems to be a refusal. That's safer for Liem, D thinks.

The hand pulls Liem to himself, a little against his chest, and then a few fingers press on the back of the collar to open it out of the way. He's not the type of (half) vampire to make a performative show of the drinking. His breath is warm when he leans in against Liem's neck, and he honestly doesn't tease what's going to happen. A quick and efficient bite.

Liem does not feel the sting of it actually. A burning heat blossoms in Liem's groin, hastily running up through him, spreading, warm and heady. Arousal trying to make him hard, tingling his extremities. It's not the act of sex itself, but the glorious resolution of it. Liem stuck at the pinnacle, the precipice of climax, tight and wonderful and then released into a pleasantly mindless void.]

[For better or for worse, Liem is too occupied with the immediacy of everything that’s happening to him right now to worry about the implications of D saying his blood was “made to be poisonous.” In any other circumstance, that would be highly concerning. In this one, Liem just accepts it at face value and returns to being distracted by D’s thumb stroking up the length of his throat.

Which is already very horny, by the way. Bold of you to think Liem isn’t already halfway to being hard before D even bites him at all.

But the bite itself is nothing like what Liem expects. Instead of the flash of pain he anticipates, there is only a full-bodied heat that has him choking back a noise of wanton pleasure. His hands clutch fruitlessly at D’s leather-covered chest, and the only reason the flush colouring his face doesn’t deepen with mortification is because his blood is all busy rushing to his dick.

He cannot actually be especially aware of his blood being drunk—however much of it D even deigns to take, unhuman as it is. He is mostly aware of the throbbing in his veins and the heat of the man stooped over him, against whom Liem has now half-slumped due to the suddenly jelly-like quality of his legs.]

[As much as D could likely drink Liem dry, he doesn't. A little helping to tide him over, microdosing on the mixed blood to stretch himself further than he would have gotten without it.

He only has one arm and a half, so he cradles the back of Liem's head and neck, using his chest and stomach instead to support Liem's weight.

The darkness swells up through Liem, the wave of it rougher than the seduction, something that rattles through to Liem's bones. It feels... old, strangely almost as old as the earth, as a planet spinning through time. Primordial. The genetic power of a creature who has been alive so very long it has practically ascended to godhood. The energy pulsing through Liem is divine and, as sensual as it is, terrifying in the same way Oblivion has become to them here.

Liem can see it, an imagine in his mind: a monster with the most beautiful face of a man, the eyes burning as scarlet gems not unlike D's had been with an alluring gaze, the skin pale and ugly in its absolute perfection, the clothes difficult to tell between shadow and regal mantle. Not D, but he looks like a carbon copy--or perhaps D is the copy.

Red stains D's lips as he lifts his head and shoulders again, the curtain of hair pulling away from each side of Liem. He still holds Liem steady, though, upright, just in case. The life shines in the brightness of his red eyes, rejuvenated.]

[Despite D’s warnings about his bite (Liem recalls him calling it a kiss; that word seems appropriate, now), the unavoidable intensity of the experience still catches him off-guard. The sheer eroticism shoves other thoughts from his head, leaving him dazed and aching, floundering to regain his composure.

Naively, he really had thought he could remain relatively unaffected while D drank his blood, and they could return to the festival like nothing had happened. He realizes now that he had been operating under some false assumptions about D; had been assuming the other dhampir would also be repressed and businesslike about this, despite the sultry energy rolling off him like a living thing.

He also hadn’t expected the prospect of being preyed on to awaken in him such mindless, pathetic eagerness.

The frightening, inhuman man shakes Liem from his reverie, recalling him to the oppressive energy sweeping through him, seizing his mind and bearing down, pulling him in. Liem gasps, shoving away mentally as well as physically, jolting back from D as his mental walls once again slam shut.

Grasping for some means to steady his scattered thoughts, he lands on indignation.]

W-what was that? You can’t just do that in public!

[He is very certain D never mentioned that his bite was basically a sex act. Liem did not sign up to get hard in an alley like some kind of male harlot, and he still has to make himself presentable enough to go back to the festival. Why was this activity so horny??]

[Yeah, it's a lot. Liem is extremely valid here.

He doesn't try to stop Liem from pulling away; in fact, freely lets Liem go, lowering his arm to his side. The shine of D's eyes peeks through his lashes as he lowers them apologetically. Gently, he pulls his lips in, briefly getting rid of the last lingering taste of Liem's blood.]

I'm sorry.

[That's earnest, as expected. Liem doesn't have to be weirdly connected through some kind of biting blood pact to know D is genuine in his sentiments.]

I should have gone somewhere more private.

[Would that have made things any less bizarre and horny? No. Would it have helped Liem's scruples? Maybe not particularly. It at least wouldn't have been in an alley, yes. Liem would still have to face the fact D could rouse those kinds of things up, though. Which, the same sensual tethers still stretch themselves out across to Liem despite Liem recoiling away. Wanton, promising.]

[How is Liem supposed to make his boner go away when the same voluptuous energy is still trying to pull him back over to D; still succeeding in pulling his eyes to D’s damp, licked-clean mouth, making him consider sidling back over there and biting it like the degenerate he very clearly is. HELP.

Yes, they shouldn’t have done this in an alley. No, they shouldn’t have gone somewhere private, because Liem doesn’t want to imagine being in private with D in this situation, actually.]

That’s—

[Liem lifts a hand and, distractedly, touches the trickle of dark, near-black blood staining his neck. The flow has already stopped, and the twin wounds have begun to close up, but the blood remains. Glancing at his stained fingers, he visibly resists the urge to just stick them in his mouth, and retrieves a handkerchief from a pocket instead.

He lets out a short sigh, flustered.]

No, this is my concern, anyway. I should know better.

[This is a preemptive sorry. Not from D, but from me. Well, maybe also from D.

As soon as Liem lifts the stained fingers up, D steps carefully forward, and his hand extends to wrap gently around Liem's wrist, locking the arm in a prison of his hold. There is a clear moment of hesitation here. Reconsideration. As if a part of D is fighting another part of himself over the desire.

But then slowly, he parts his lips and pulls Liem's hand up so he can slide the stained fingers into his mouth. The act doesn't really linger unnecessarily; they push in and slide over his tongue, and then slide out between his lips again. Liem can have his hand back... But D's fingers tug Liem's collar a little to the side, revealing the rest of what blood is left on the skin.

His eyes shift slowly up to Liem's face, asking.]

[Once again, during the battle between Liem’s prudishness and his desire to let a beautiful man do whatever he wants with him, his capacity for complex thought is felled in the crossfire. Not only does he make no attempt to free his wrist from D’s grasp, but his free hand, newly emerged from his pocket with a tidy little square of fabric, goes completely motionless as well. He only watches, first surprised, and then entranced like a bird fixed in the gaze of a snake, as D slowly pulls his hand closer and slides his bloodied fingers into his mouth.

He’s startled by the wet heat of it—even warmer than D’s hand had been cupping his neck. And he’s startled by how distressingly horny he immediately feels (still; again) to have D coming back to lick up the last traces of blood he’d left the first time.

The sensual allure of him still beats, heady and insistent, low in Liem’s core. It’s making it a little hard for him to breathe.

He tilts his head to the side, because that seems better than letting D do it for him again. And if he is tense as he does it, it is only because he’s trying very hard not to indulge the urge to plaster himself against the other man and demand he do more than just tease him—because intentionally or not, that is unquestionably what D is doing.]

[His hand eases the collar a little more out of the way once Liem readily gives him affirmation. The fingers dip down the edge toward Liem's chest, only as far as they can go without having to undo more of the clothing. His fingers stay hooked there, like claws keeping Liem in place, prey that he is.

As much as he is teasing (unintentional) the shit out of Liem right now, he is very to the point and efficient in what he's doing, and it seems bold in a way. He leans in, his tongue starting much lower than Liem's neck where the rivulet of blood had tried to race, the top of one of Liem's pectorals. He laps over the ridge of the collarbone to what has pooled in the dip of it, scooping it up with his lips behind the path of the tongue. Then he licks the rest of the stain all the way up the start of Liem's neck to the place where the two holes had initially been, gently mouthing the last of it.

He does have the urge to put the two holes back, strangely, but resists. He finally leans his head politely back, but, impolitely, not away. His lips lightly fold together over his tongue again to clear it, but his pale skin is stained anyway by Liem's blood.]

[D is really out here joining the list of people trying to send Liem to an early grave, not by injury, but by stress-induced heart attack. This would be a real achievement given that Liem’s normal pulse rests somewhere at a cool several beats per minute, but it gets distinctly livelier as D’s mouth slides up the trail of blood descending towards his chest. He doubts any amount of repression can prevent the other dhampir from noticing.

As D licks up his throat, Liem swallows, his hands clutching tight at his sides as if to prevent them from clutching at D instead. The handkerchief is now ruthlessly scrunched in his fist.]

I’m not in the habit of letting men put their mouth all over me in the street, [he says with breathless, suppressed irritation as D continues to loom over him. Liem lifts his hand again to grab D’s wrist, as if to move his hand away from his collar. (As if he were capable of doing this.) But he only holds it fast as his pale blue eyes stare into D’s carnelian ones.

At least this situation is so inescapably, frustratingly intimate that the contact must surely be reducing their discord.]

For my own sanity, if nothing else.

[Sometimes, you just gotta fluster a very reserved man in a back alley. It is a little forward, and he'll undoubtedly feel pretty guilty about it later once the heightened vampiric senses have worn off.

But for now, his hand remains almost defiantly where it is, neither pushing forward or trying to pull away. The fingers hooked into the robe do loosen, however. He holds Liem's gaze without embarrassment or falter.]

You might invite me somewhere else next time.

[Next time as if there will be other times where he's drinking Liem's blood, or harassing him in an alley with weird vampire eros. Worse, the implication Liem can make it a private affair, too. Later, D will say this won't happen again. Unfortunately, he has been forced to do a lot of things here in Kenos against his will, or his common sense.

Maybe the next go around, Liem will be sipping his blood instead.]

[D really does just come out and say it. For Liem, who was trying to pretend that there was no chance of anything like this happening again, the observation (or… suggestion?) makes his pulse beat hard in his throat as D stares back at him. He cannot stop himself from imagining, at least briefly, what “invite me somewhere else” would entail.

Despite the allure coiling in his belly, urging him to say that there’s no need to wait for a “next time,” Liem is the one to look away first.]

If there is such a time, I’ll be sure to correct my mistake.

[Liem is taking refuge in the vague wording here to pretend that he might mean something other than inviting D somewhere private for sex, even though he’s under no illusions privately that this would be the case. He seems not just flustered, but actually a little embarrassed now. This back-alley interlude isn’t the kind of thing he’d previously imagined indulging in with D of all people.]

I’m sorry for expecting you to do this here.

[Releasing D’s wrist, he tugs his collar further closed again, willfully ignoring the ache between his thighs even though it hasn’t remotely subsided.]

That was unworthy of you.

[Liem can rest easy because the invitation doesn't necessarily mean sex. With the way they had been going at it now, there's a high likely hood sex could happen, but ignoring that, perhaps their bloody adventure could be more private. They are both dingdongs.

For Liem's sake.

Once his arm is released, he brings it to himself and lowers it to his side, offering Liem composure space.] Don't apologize. [The last thing he needs as a monster (yes, Liem, he also has self-hatred UNFORTUNATELY) is to be given an unnecessary sorry.]

I should have suggested somewhere else. [...] Thank you for your help. I'm in your debt.

[Microdosing is still dosing.]

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taxfest log | open

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this is nsfw...

boy not our thread quickly turning nsfw

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