JERICHO ● SEPTEMBER 2025 EVENT/TDM

[uruz]

TDM & EVENT: JERICHO

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Prologue: New Characters

You've been plagued with a reoccuring dream, as of late. Every time you sleep, the dream returns to you.

It always begins the same way: As a breath held for too long. As a pressure at the base of your spine. A silence that presses against the skin like confession, like prophecy. A ripple moves through your bones. A tide builds and pulls at your feet, familiar by now. You dream of a black, soundless wave, thick like oil and starlight, swelling across the horizon line. You've seen the wave before, countless times, always rising. With every night, it never reaches you. You always seem to wake before it does . . . That is, until tonight.

The wave moves slow, deliberate— like something ancient and alive. And when it finally crashes, there is no harsh impact. Only warmth. Only submersion. Rather than drowning, you are being claimed with saltwater that's sweet with myrrh. The darkness embracing you pulses with desire. Then, a voice envelops you.

"Come home."
It dribbles with honey-like promise, like a truth you've always known, whispered now from within your marrow more like temptation than a request.

"You are mine. You always were."
The voice offers purpose. Worship. Belonging. And when you wake . . . You wake changed, with a mask on your face you did not choose. Elegant. Sacred. Too important to remove. You have been given a gift. A new beginning.

Welcome home, new Vessels.

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Sink Down Like Precious Stones

( content warnings: drowning, body horror )

Vessels awaken within the dreamscape as the black wave recedes from their skin like velvet falling off the bone, their masks in place over their eyes and left afloat in the watery expanse. All around them, the ocean stretches infinite and lightless— so still it mirrors the sky above, indistinguishable from the void. Far in the distance, massive obsidian walls curve inward, enclosing this vast seascape like a forgotten temple basin. And there, at the far horizon, one glow pierces the dark: a low-burning fire flickering within a half-sunken structure of impossible architecture— arched, ribbed, as though built from marble and cathedral glass.

This is a test, and it begins with belief.

Those with unwavering faith— whether in Sleep, another god, or even themselves— will find the surface beneath their feet holds firm. The sea becomes glass, and they may rise, and walk. But those adrift in doubt begin to sink. Precious stone creeps over their skin. Joints stiffen. Flesh cracks. Breath slows. It is not death, but it is close and might as well be hell. Your only salvation lies in your own conviction . . . Or the mercy of another Vessel who happens to walk.

Those who drown will not die. They will loop this moment— sinking, blackness, return, sink again— until belief takes root in some way. Alternatively, they may awaken in a later dreamspace . . . Changed.

NOTES:

• Pale white fish as well as glowing jellyfish may be encounted. The fish stare at vessels as they drown, and jellyfish may leave behind a shock that could temporarily stop the process of crystalization. But only temporarily— and their stings are excrutiating.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Magic becomes volatile— spells flicker, overcharge, or fizzle unpredictably when cast on or near the ocean.
• When you cast, your veins glow from beneath the skin, but not with light. It's writhing. Like something trapped under glass.
• When channeling magic, your mouth may fill with brine and blood.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• The water responds emotionally— thrashing with fury or calming with yearning depending on the Offering's state of mind.
• The sea amplifies desire and instinct, making base emotions harder to suppress— rage, hunger, longing all churn just beneath the surface.
• The black water feels too warm, too alive, clinging to the body like memory; any stillness invites visions of Sleep's embrace, both reverent and consuming.

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You Taste Like New Flesh

( content warnings: body horror, psychological horror, compulsion, unreliable reality )

The ocean path ends at a palace carved of pearl and spun silk, impossibly perched where water meets nothingness. Whether you have traversed the black sea on trembling feet or simply awaken seated at an impossibly long table, it makes no difference. You are here now, and welcomed, suddenly in attire fit for a gala. Around this table sit countless Dream-Vessels, many silent and still, faces unreadable in the flickering candlelight wearing generic, six-eyed masks. The table stretches beyond sight, arching beneath creeping vines that twist like ancient veins overhead, blooming with strange blossoms that beat with energy. Flames dance atop dozens of candles— some burn on brass holders, others hover, like fireflies caught mid-flight, their shadows flickering and shifting with an otherworldly rhythm. Around you, phantasmal forms shimmer on pedestals: Sleep's ancient Guardians are eternalized through memorial, monstrous and magnificent, lost to time yet enshrined in reverence. On the highest pedestal stands a still living One, silent and watching the feast with somber eyes. Sleep's voice whispers in your ear, encouraging a glance to, perhaps, see what you may become.

"Feast, My Dear Vessels. Until you taste like New Flesh."

The foods before you don not come unmeddled with. Each bite pulls memories from your bones to the surface— moments buried or erased, but these are not just yours. The banquet feeds on shared history, stirring secrets tangled between you and the others here. To eat is to open a door: to risk awakening something dormant, to invite others inside your buried truths, to forge bonds or betrayals that can never be unseen.

Eton Mess: Crushed meringue, tangled cream, and berries that bleed like bruises when bitten. Sweetness melts quickly, leaving your tongue cold. As you eat, a memory rises— but you don't experience it alone. The person nearest you sees what you see, hears what you hear, feels what you felt. Together, you can alter one key detail, and that change ripples outward, shifting how you both remember the event.

Deviled Kidneys: Spiced and seared, the metallic richness clings to your mouth, as if tasting old blood. Eating summons the echo of a painful or violent memory, but your partner experiences it with you.

Roasted Lamb in Mint Sauce: The sweetness of the meat is cut by mint sharp enough to sting the throat. Your act of consumption awakens a craving, but not in you— in the Vessel sharing this dish. They feel an inexorable pull toward your memory, even without knowing what they seek. The bond persists until the craving is confronted.

Honey Scouse: A thick, golden stew heavy with warmth, but beneath the sweetness, something cloying curls around the edges. Every shared spoonful spreads a slow, creeping influence between you and your partner: intrusive visions, subtle compulsions, small lapses in agency. Neither of you can tell whose thoughts belong to whom.

Starpit Fruit: Plum-sized and faintly glowing, the juice leaves your fingertips dusted in silver, like handling starlight. When bitten, the fruit releases the memory of a forgotten wish, not to you but to the person beside you. They see it clearly— and know exactly what you once wanted most, even if you had buried it.

Marigold Brandy: A golden spirit served warm, glowing faintly as though sunlight has been trapped inside the glass. When lifted, it releases a soft, floral scent. The first sip draws you and your partner into a shared burst of joy— a memory that makes you swell with happiness. The sensation is so immediate, so electric, that when the memory breaks, your bodies ache to move, to speak, to draw more positivity to light. You may feel an irresistible pull to get up and dance on the wide palace floors, even if no music is playing . . . And if others nearby drink as well, the effect multiplies.

Saints Breath Chalice: A dark, wine-thick cordial served in tarnished silver cups etched with symbols that shift when stared at too long. The liquid smells faintly of frankincense and something sweeter— blood-warm and alive. Drinking it floods you and your partner with the overwhelming sensation of being inside someone else's celebration, a memory that belongs to neither of you: a vast mass of black, with branching antlers and six, glowing red eyes. It reaches to sink its claws into your chest as she sings: One. Beloved. We were meant to be. It is impossible to tell whether you're witnessing joy or manic worship. There is chanting you cannot understand but somehow already know, drums that sync with your heartbeat until you can feel nothing else. Your limbs begin to twitch, then sway, then move without conscious thought, drawn into a dance you do not remember learning. If more than two people drink, your movements synchronize perfectly, your breath matching theirs, until the room seems stop to watch.

The table awaits.

NOTES:

• Feasting becomes addictive. The more a character eats, the harder it is to stop. Gluttony may cause physical consequences: nosebleeds, twitching fingers, warping speech, uncontrollable confessions, or dripping nectar from their mouths.
• Those who refuse to eat at all begin to starve in a dream-sense: they lose color, smell burning, and feel the weight of Sleep's gaze. Her wrath isn't immediate— but it grows the longer you reject the feast. She takes offense.

TOKEN EFFECTS:

• Each spell cast after eating releases parasitic energy— manifesting as flowers, thorns, parasitic insects or rot— either from their own body or from someone they recently touched.
• Casting warps your limbs temporarily: too many joints, fingers curl the wrong way, nerves burn like wires.
• Touching others leaves sigils burned into their skin. These will briefly carry over into the waking world during next month's event. Runecasters will get the innate feeling that this symbol has a meaning summed up as "The Night Does Not Belong To God". How they interpret that is up to them.

OFFERING EFFECTS:

• The act of devouring awakens an overwhelming desire, often physical, but sometimes emotional or spiritual. This desire clings to another Vessel at the table, creating obsessive attachment or aggression.
• The more they eat, the more their monstrous traits subtly emerge.
• Consuming another Vessel's memory (if shared or touched) grants a brief glimpse of their deepest fear or weakness.

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There's Something In The Way You Lay

( content warnings: sexual content, voyeurism, body modification, omegaverse traits, loss of agency )

Beneath its pearlescent halls, beyond the banquet of flickering candles and dream-Vessels who eat in hollow silence, a spiral staircase winds downward. Its steps are damp and velvet-slick. The further you descend, the warmer the air becomes— humid, cloying, thick with the scent of sweat, salt, and incense. The sounds reach you first: Slaps, gasps, the wet chorus of bodies and perverse intimacy. Laughter, muffled sobs, the echo of whispered names long forgotten. At the base lies a corridor of "private" rooms. Their doors swing open with dreamlike invitation. Inside, the scenes unfold: past dream-Vessels lost in tableau— arched backs, bitten lips, mouths open in prayer or obedience. Some are alone, coiled in worship. Others tangle in groups, indistinguishable where one body ends and another begins. Vines bloom across the ceilings, watching. The walls glisten with breath. You see their faces, but you can't quite distinguish what or who they are. You may not remember choosing a role, but the dream has chosen for you. α or Ω— and with the naming, your body changes. There is no shame here, only devotion made manifest. This is how Sleep is worshipped now: through cruelty and surrender, through the giving and the taking of flesh.

NOTES

• Masks may optionally offer a sort of glamour for Vessels who wander into these chambers— they will not be able to recognize each other. How much of that, whether it be appearance, voice, and so on, is up to you.
• Past dream-Vessels perform for no one, eyes vacant, movements perfect, as if only a ghost of a memory. Player characters may interact with them and even partake in intimacy with them, but be warned: they are emotionally absent and may cause symptoms of succumbence that could be remedied with a proper, player-character tether.
• Tools hang on the walls: Rods of all sizes, slick with heat. Collars that hum with low, seductive voltage. Blindfolds that intensify physical contact, There's no need for cuffs or chains when there are vines that seem to respond to the α party's mood— tightening, flowering, or reaching for skin. You are free to come up with your own items.
• α perks:: Instinctive claiming (done through biting, rubbing, branding, etc), an almost predatory focus and obsession for those who interest them, pack gravity (the ability to attract one or more vessels at once), emitting a scent that ignites heat/rut in others, darker urges surge and a commanding voice.
Ω perks: High pain tolerance, instinctive yielding, emotional synchrony with those being watched, self-lubricating, hypersensitive, scent tracking, intense need to please or be filled emotionally, physically, and spiritually. When touched, glowing runes bloom across the skin.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Spells cast during acts of intimacy may provoke a heightened sensation of euphoria for both caster and whoever is affected by the spell.
• Magic may manifest as misty appendages— extra hands, tongues, eyes, etc.
• Divine energy becomes volatile when passed through the body— ecstasy may border on agony, or vice versa, and Tethering becomes impossibly euphoric.

OFFERING EFFECTS

• Flesh becomes malleable mid-act— bones bending, jaws unhinging, skin blooming open, etc.
• Animalistic traits emerge: tails, claws, growls, tentacles, scent glands— all begging to be used.
• Feeding and Tethering are indistinguishable— hunger becomes worship, and worship becomes need.

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I am not worthy

( content warnings: body horror, violence, gore, parasitic/invasive feeding, death )

Wherever you are, the palace begins to rot. First slowly, then all at once: vines swell with black fluid, splitting at the seams. They burst from beneath marble tiles, coil up pillars, slither across frames and vacant thrones like arteries choking a heart. The candlelight flickers. One by one, the flames throughout the palace float upward . . . And die. No smoke. No warning. Just wet silence. Then the Dream-Vessels begin to fall. They do not scream as they do. They collapse like marionettes, limbs askew. Their flesh splits open along wounds that should not exist— a rip at the neck, teeth marks prying open the ribcage, a bite that swallows half a torso. Bones jut like sculpted ivory. Entrails slither across the floor like garlands. Some burst mid-air, as if the dream demands spectacle. Others fold in on themselves until all that's left of them is a mound of flesh.

"I am not worthy."

One voice. Ten. A thousand—layered, glitching, sweaty. It echoes from the walls, the bodies, the seams in the floor. The corpses twitch in time with the chant, jerking violently. Some snap backwards, eyes wide, jaws unhinged. Others explode— blossoming in gore, raining viscera. From the heaving pile of ruined Dream-Vessels, something forms.

It lurches into being: stitched from tongues, teeth, torsos. Weeping. Wailing. Worshipping. A monstrosity of raw flesh and faith: all failures made meat. Its eyes (are they eyes?) blink out. Arms claw outwards, too many to count. Its scent is of copper, sweat, and sorrow.

When The Abomination chooses to feed, it seeks not flesh, but the softest rot inside you. An appendage uncoils from its writhing mass and unhinged jaw— veined, slick, and trembling like a violated root. It drives itself into your mouth, splitting your lips with obscene tenderness, and sinks deep into your throat, locking you still.

What it draws out is not blood. It siphons your doubts, your fears, your most secret self-hatred. Your inadequacy. Every buried shame. Your hate. Your negativity. Every flinch of unworthiness. Every moment you believed yourself unlovable, unseen, too small. It gorges on what you hide from even yourself, and the more you try to resist, the sweeter your sorrow becomes. The last thing it takes is your life force, and then your viscera, leaving you wilted and shrivled like a hollow log.

This death is violating and feels painfully slow. You're drained raw of your vitality until you're but a brittle husk that breaks to dust in the wind. It seems near impossible to destroy, always reforming into bits and pieces left smudged behind. Perhaps your best bet it to run, or attempt to wake yourself up from this nightmare.

One's voice repeats in choked sobs: I am not worthy.

NOTES:

• Wounds from the beast linger. You may wake bleeding or marked.
• If devoured, characters will awaken the following month extremely fatigued during the first 3-5 days of the month. They may also sporadically rigurgitate black sludge. Characters who die and are already in the game may requesta plot clue, that will be a vision your character will dream of before awakening.

TOKEN EFFECTS

• Magic recoils violently when used on The Abomination, backfiring with psychic screams or ripping into your flesh.
• Your hands glow uncontrollably, burning what you touch— even those you love.
• Magic becomes hungry; it demands pieces of your body to function. A tooth. A nail. A rib (and so on).

OFFERING EFFECTS

• The rage it stirs in you is monstrous. You begin to shift uncontrollably— flesh blooms, bones crack under strain.
• Your body begins moving before you decide to. Twitching toward The Abomination, and toward the scent of despair.
• During the chaos, you may develop a fixation with another Vessel's flaw. You can smell it on them. It entrances you . . . To the point that you may feel the urge to feed them to The Abomination.

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OOC NOTES

➤ Welcome to Somnia's second TDM, which doubles as our third gamewide event!

➤ This TDM is considered game canon. You are free to have your character remember as many details as possible.

➤ Only new characters are free to experiment with the Vessel options to your liking; this is a dreamscape, so multiple/different situations for you to really test which option you like most is possible. Current characters must remain as their chosen Vessel type unless you requested a switch, which can be done on the Taken page.

➤ All TDMs take place within a dreamscape, meaning characters can interact with the setting without needing to apply. Come have fun with us!

➤ Veteran players, I ask to please refrain from making post-event threads for the time being! We have some important information to take into account in next month's event when characters are slated to "wake up". At the very least, please wait for the information to be offered on the next plotting post. Thank you everyone for your patience!

➤ Please comment on the TDM's INVITE TL if you are a new player interested in joining the game, but don't yet have an invite. Current players or the mod may reach out to extend an invite. Once you've got one, please don't forget to comment on the Invite page so you may properly link it in your reserve and app.

➤ Questions? Please direct them to the designated questions comment linked below!

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Comments

[panzana]

[Nicola, playing baseball? It does strike him as a little absurd. He looks the part of a man far removed from such things, and he knows it. Still, Caelus's enthusiasm is disarming in its own way, and Nicola finds himself smiling for real this time, the edges of it softer than before.

However, it's quickly tainted by a passing thought. Opportunities like the one Caelus suggests have a way of vanishing before Nicola can grasp them. Making promises for the future feels dangerous when he's already lost so much of it.]

I wouldn't want to make any promises that I can't keep, but... if the chance ever comes, perhaps I'd be willing to let you teach me.

[His curiosity is further piqued at the mention of the Astral Express and the Nameless. The words are completely unfamiliar to him. He turns them over carefully, filing them away like he would any useful scrap of information.]

I can't say I have. What exactly does a Nameless do?

[trashblaze]

I'll make sure that you have a chance, then!

[ Even if not here, wherever Nicola may go, Caelus will try to find him. He believes that he can do it. After all, he's someone from the esteemed Astral Express. Traveling across the galaxies and beyond is exactly what he does. There's unwavering confidence in his voice, indicating that he has every intention of making his words come true. ]

We are followers of the Path of Trailblaze, intergalactic adventurers who travel the stars. We explore the universe and aid other worlds. Our purpose is to explore, understand, establish, and connect. I was actually in the middle of a mission on the planet Amphoreus before I suddenly found myself here.

[ Considering Caelus's clothing, it might help explain some of his unique aura. ]

[panzana]

[Nicola doesn't share that confidence, but the earnestness in Caelus's tone keeps his smile on his face. Then, his expression shifts to one of surprise at his companion's description of the Nameless's activities.]

Travel the stars...?

[Man hasn't come even close to achieving space travel yet in Nicola's world. An American astronomer only just recently discovered that what they thought was the Andromeda nebula was actually an entirely separate galaxy. Until that groundbreaking discovery was announced a year ago, it was the common belief that the Milky Way was the entire universe. Nicola is reminded of the ripple of awe and excitement that spread even through Burlone when the news reached Italy. The thought of being able to freely explore the universe and interact with life on other planets is one he never considered seriously before, but now that he is thinking about it, it sounds... both terrifying and wonderful.]

So, you travel through outer space on the Astral Express? [The "Express" implies that it's a train, but trains can't run in space??] Just what kind of vehicle is it?

[trashblaze]

That's right. It's our Astral Express, a most treasured train.

[ Considering the fondness in Caelus's tone, it's obvious the train is very beloved, much like a family member. The train is essential for the journeys of the Nameless, as they won't be able to jump to other worlds without it. Talking about it already makes Caelus melancholic, so his excitement shortly quiets down a little, as it's been a long while since he was on the Express last… And he has a feeling being here will extend that, too. ]

I miss home so badly. It may be our transport, but it's also our home.

[panzana]

[So it really is a train. How does that even work? The shift in Caelus's demeanor causes the question to die in Nicola's throat before he can voice it. Unfortunately, the melancholy is contagious, the corners of his lips curving into a strained smile.]

Mm... I miss my home, too.

[Nicola's home is gone. Even if he were somehow able to return to his world alive, the Falzone Family will have surely dispersed by then. There's no chance of them regaining power with both him and Dante out of the picture. Either the Visconti or the Lao-Shu will take over their territory. He wouldn't be surprised if Bartolo left the Francesca manor to live somewhere safer with his wife, either. With both the Falzone and Francesca families gone, there's nothing left shackling those two to Burlone. Nicola hopes they do leave, in fact; they deserve to live out the remainder of their lives together in peace, far away from mafia conflicts.

Another thought occurs to Nicola—is Caelus in the same boat as him? Could he have lost his life during this mission on the planet Amphoreus? It's the only thing that would explain their meeting. The living can't just casually interact with, let alone touch, the dead. However, their conversation so far suggests that Caelus is completely unaware of this. Or perhaps he's an even more skilled liar than Nicola.

Thankfully, before his mind can continue further down this dark rabbit hole, the other man's feet finally touch the shore. Nicola smiles gratefully at him.]

Thank you for the ride, Caelus. I can walk the rest of the way.

[trashblaze]

[ Oh, no. After feeling the subtle way Nicola wilts behind him, Caelus shortly realizes what he's done. But instead of regretting his slip-up, he brightens shortly again. He believes it's no good to him or others to be dishonest about his feelings, so it might be for the best that he reflects his nostalgic feelings for home, even briefly. He turns his head to look at the older man's face, seeing that lonely smile, and his brows raise a little out of compassion. At the same time, he sees that same smile attempt to shift, knowing the soft gratitude is genuine. ]

All right!

[ Caelus slightly kneels to allow Nicola to step onto the ground more easily, then turns around fully to face him again. Now that his arms are free, he raises them enthusiastically as he makes his next point— ]

Nicola, has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful smile? Seriously, you can heal people with it! You should smile more softly like that just now. It suits you so much!

[panzana]

[Blindsided by the sudden compliment once his feet touch solid ground again, Nicola feels the heat rise under his mask as he catches a full view of that bright, genuine expression. He's heard so many compliments about his looks before that he thought himself immune to them by now, but this one hits differently. As always, he hides the flicker of embarrassment behind his easy charm.]

I've been told that many times, actually, but the healing people part is a new one. I appreciate the compliment.

[Not wanting to linger on the moment, his gaze shifts ahead toward the half-sunken structure waiting for them.]

Let's see what awaits us in these ruins, shall we?

[trashblaze]

Hehe! Well, good, I'm glad that people you know have sharp eyes.

[ Happy go lucky as usual, Caelus turns once again, this time to face the gloomy location in front of them. Now that they're right in front of it, Caelus sees that this place is some kind of palace ruins. He scans the area thoroughly, making sure no dangers are lurking about, and runs ahead to the set of stairs leading to the large front doors. Once he's done surveying, he calls Nicola by raising his arms again, waving to him.

After they enter together, they shortly encounter a crowd of strange, well-dressed people who pass alongside them, and the two end up getting separated by accident. But their separation doesn't last long— several minutes later, Caelus finally spots Nicola again, and he immediately runs over to give him a quick, friendly embrace out of relief to see him again. This time, though, Caelus seems to have gotten roped into wearing formal attire as well. ]

Ah, Nicola! There you are! I thought I lost you.

[panzana]

[Nicola never would have guessed that there was such a large, lively party taking place inside a dilapidated castle. It looks much nicer on the inside than it does on the outside, too. His own attire changes as he steps inside as well, taking a moment to check it out before he realizes that he's been separated from Caelus. Well, surely he couldn't have gotten far, right?

Sure enough, he spots his new friend again a few minutes later, and he's momentarily caught off guard once again as he's suddenly wrapped in an embrace. All this affection isn't good for his heart! Caelus lets go before Nicola can even think about returning it, and he gives the other man a relieved smile despite his racing heart.]

Well, you found me. I figured you couldn't have gotten too far.

[A mysterious figure wordlessly ushers them towards an absurdly long table with a feast spread out upon it. Something feels off about all of this, but Nicola supposes he shouldn't be surprised considering how he woke up here. He keeps his suspicions to himself and turns his attention back to Caelus as they sit next to each other, speaking to him in a warm, teasing tone.]

You look like quite the dapper raccoon in that outfit.

[trashblaze]

[ Whoa! Now that Caelus has a better look at Nicola, the trailblazer realizes how much more stunningly elegant the man is— something he didn't think was possible, considering his natural aura is already spilling it all over. An outfit really makes a person. Funny considering Caelus just got called dapper, he knows too well that he never is. So he lets out a small, amused laugh at the comment, then attempts to exaggerate some mannerisms after they sit down at the table. ]

You think so? I'll never come close to your level, though.

[ Look at him try to pick up this teacup all gentleman-like. Fancy movements, two fingers raised. He's going it with such a laidback aura that the image is clashing… It looks pretty peculiar. Maybe even more so, considering how calm the trailblazer is despite the eerie circumstances around them. ]

[panzana]

[Preferring to keep his attention on his friend rather than the food in front of them, Nicola watches in amusement as Caelus attempts to imitate the mannerisms of a gentleman. A bright chuckle escapes from his lips as he watches Caelus hold the teacup very incorrectly.]

Sure you can, you just need some training. For starters, let me show you the etiquette for drinking tea and coffee at formal events like these.

[Using his own teacup, he begins slowly demonstrating one step at a time as he describes them.]

Pinch the handle of the cup in between your thumb and index finger, then place your middle finger along the underside of the handle for support. Keep your ring and pinky fingers tucked naturally into your palm. Then, as you raise the cup to your lips, make sure your elbow stays close to your side, and don't cradle the cup. If you're standing up, you should hold your saucer at waist level, but since we're sitting it should stay on the table.

[With the cup now at his lips, Nicola gazes at the liquid inside as he explains further.]

Look into the cup like this as you drink. Always take small, quiet sips—don't slurp or drink in large gulps.

[He pretends to take a few small, measured sips before gracefully setting the teacup down. Nicola has no desire to actually drink whatever is inside this cup. He ends the lesson with his signature bright smile.]

And that's it. Let me see you do it now.

[trashblaze]

Eh!?

[ S— so many instructions. Caelus tries to keep up with the advice, looking back and forth between his own hands and Nicola's. The far more graceful man does it so effortlessly; he makes it seem easy. But it's certainly not! The trailblazer is struggling a little for several seconds. He's normally a fast learner and picks up new tricks quickly, but it's harder to form new practices like acting more elegantly. More seconds pass, and he finally manages to an extent. He still looks a little awkward, but it's a much better form compared to earlier. ]

Nicola! I think my back is going to cramp!

[ No, it's not. He's just trying to get out of this. ]

[panzana]

[Nicola's smile widens as Caelus gives his poor excuse to get out of tea/coffee etiquette training. It would have been more believable if he said his hand instead of his back, but even if he did, Nicola isn't letting him get out of it that easily.]

From drinking tea? I don't think so. Perhaps a more hands-on demonstration will help.

[He gets up from his seat and stands behind Caelus's chair, leaning over his shoulder as he gently adjusts the younger man's grip on the cup. His fingers brush lightly against Caelus's as he guides them into the proper position, his voice smooth but teasing at the same time.]

There. Thumb and index fingers here, middle finger underneath. Keep the other two tucked in, like this. And sit up straight—your back will thank you for it, I promise.

[Once satisfied, Nicola steps back just slightly, tilting his head as he watches Caelus attempt it again, amusement glinting in his eyes.]

Go on then. Show me you were paying attention.

[trashblaze]

You really don't have to—

[ Oh, no. And Caelus is successfully silenced when Nicola leans in like that, holding his hand as he gives more instructions with an unfairly charming voice. The first bastard who did something similar in the past that also rendered him speechless was none other than Aventurine. Kind of hilarious when these two look quite similar. And they both smell so nice. It's actually difficult to focus on a situation like this, but Caelus tries to remember the feeling and the gestures again.

Caelus makes a momentary, troubled face, trying to shake off the distractions and attempts it one more time. Despite being a bit flustered, he does it. It's still not perfect, but he has improved some more over his previous attempt. His natural gift for being a fast learner is intact despite his reluctance. He just thinks this stuff is kind of too strict. Who cares how he holds his cup!? Regardless, he'll try to remember what he's been taught. Never know when it might come in handy someday. ]

H— how is it!?

[panzana]

[Nicola tilts his head as Caelus manages the posture, his smile warming at the improvement. It's a passable effort for only his second try. Amusement lingers in his eyes, softened now by genuine approval.]

There it is. Much better. You've picked it up faster than most would.

[He leans in once more, lowering his voice with an encouraging warmth that threads beneath the tease as a gentle hand pats Caelus's head.]

You see? A little guidance, and you already carry yourself like a gentleman.

[He lets the moment hang just long enough for Caelus to feel the praise sink in before returning to his seat and reclaiming his own cup, sealing the lesson with his smile rather than more instructions.]

[trashblaze]

[ … This man's charm is off the charts? Caelus internally screams some indescribable words at Nicola's perfect smile and deep voice, especially when the man pats his head. He must be doing it on purpose, the trailblazer ponders as the heat across his face accelerates. And what is with that pause, all while staring at him like this? See, that's absolute proof that Nicola is trying to rile him up with his charm. What a bastard, for real!? He must be used to doing this!!

Maybe Caelus spoke too soon about his smile being healing. Okay, that part may be true, but it's also a lethal weapon. Damn, he can't even muster a word of thanks. He's not sure if he should be grateful right now. ]

O… okay.

[ That's it, that's the response. Caelus then proceeds to gorge on his food (a serving of Deviled Kidneys), throwing all mannerisms out. The lesson is over, and he's back to his usual self! ]