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.

Watch on YouTube

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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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Tsukasa Suou | Ensemble Stars!! | New character

[heavyliesthecrown]

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜

Option 1:

[A biblical story like this exists. From somewhere within the recesses of Tsukasa's memories, he recalls the story of walking on water. He isn't particularly religious or even Christian, but he has always found the imagery to be particularly captivating. Stories of Eden, the apple, and the snake are fascinating and easily interwoven into music or retellings.

He never imagined he would live an actual miracle such as this, though.

The experience of walking atop water is surreal— the way his feet effortlessly glide across the surface leaves him feeling as light as a feather. He thinks, impossibly, that maybe he could skate across the expanse of blue toward the glittering, majestic structure that beckons him nearer.

This must surely be a dream.

But such a magnificent one merely excites him, as though he's become an adventurer and a quest awaits him.

Silly fantasies are interrupted when desperate splashing and struggling reach his ears. Eyes widening, he dashes toward the commotion. Hand plunging into the water, he grasps firmly hold of an arm and grits his teeth as he works to drag the individual atop the surface.]

Hold on—! I have you!

Option 2:

[The water is beyond beautiful. Tsukasa admires it as he glides across the surface, making his way toward the fairytale-like destination that awaits him and the other strangers that appear scattered about.

His attention is so focused on where he is headed that he misses what is just at his feet.

That is, until movement draws his eyes. Gaze shifting downward, he blinks and stares at a small school of terribly grotesque fish that stare back at him.

Every hair upon the back of his neck stands on end, and color seeps from his face, turning him his own shade of ghostly white, and he swallows.]

W-Why are you looking at me like that? I did not summon you-!

[They continue to stare.]

Cease! Go on then...! S-Shoe! Swim away now!

[ . . . . They swim closer to the surface if that is possible, and goosebumps spread across his skin. Why do they not go!? Oh no... oh no, oh no-

With a sprint, he dashes toward the nearest person and dives behind them, as though it will somehow shield him from his sudden stalkers.]

WAH--!! HELP! T-They keep following me!

[MAKE THEM STOP!!!!]

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙵𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑

Option 1:

[The thing about dreams, Tsukasa is sure, is that so long as you realize you are dreaming, you can enjoy it to your heart's content. On some level, he still feels he must be dreaming, that uncomfortable run-in with sealife earlier, notwithstanding.

His attire feels comfortable and familiar- not so different from what he might wear as a member of Knights. The heels add just a little bit of height he enjoys, and the constellation-like patterns throughout remind him of a specific someone, which simply makes him smile.

Practiced in elegance long before taking up the mantel of 'king' or 'knight', he bows, formal and polite, and extends a hand out, caught up in the festivities and mood.]

Would you care to dance, my lady?

[Or, perhaps it is a gentleman instead? In which case-]

This is quite the affair, is it not?

Option 2:

Uwaaaaah~~ ☆

[Eyes dancing with dizzing delight, Tsukasa stands before the dining table, sparkling with inexplicable joy over the great feast laid before them. It is enough to make anyone feel quite like a true king! He hardly knows where to begin.

. . . Not that he is a glutton, of course.

This isn't like Hansel and Gretel. It is a dream, and there are no wicked witches meant to ensnare him in a trap for indulging just a little. After all, that should be allowed every once in a while. Of course it should be. This is perfectly fine.

He is quick to convince himself of that. ]

Marvelous~!

[His attention turning to the one nearest him, he beams, taking at them, befoer taking it all back in.]

There is so much, I scarcely know where to begin! What would you recommend first? ♪

𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍

[Have a new idea? Let's roll with it! Hit me up if you're unsure on anything.]

((NOTES: Tsukasa is recently just turned 18 in canon! He has a verbal quirk of adding English into his sentences (he natively speaks Japanese). More specifically, he uses the proper English pronunciation of borrowed words, instead of using the Japanese pronunciation of it. Because this is near impossible to convey in a game where we write in English, I try to denote this by using italics. I don't know how that comes out sounding in the game. Up to you!

Lastly, he can dance with a guy too, he just would not immediately think to ask any men to dance due to his upbringing/used to doing fan service for women back home. He may be more flustered, but I'm down for it! If you have any questions, feel free to DM or message me on plurk (hakuboo) or discord (Heatchi).))

sink option 2;

[regulate]

[ Though he is having trouble making out anything in the dark, his hearing is unfortunately still working really well. It's also really hard to miss the panicked flailing and the body hiding behind his for protection regardless of what little illumination they have been given.

Sunday's wings twitch as he glances over his shoulder, trying to study what he can of the young man. ]

Have you tried simply walking away from the water? Or were you hoping to catch one of the fish in there?

[ Not really his own first choice, but survival in a strange, new place does bring forth new instincts. Still...from what he can see of the fish, they do not appear to be appetizing in the slightest. ]

Casting a stone in their direction might also scare them off if you can find one in this destitute beach.

[heavyliesthecrown]

[ 'Catch' it...? No, no, no nonono no. Absolutely no. He has no desire to touch it, not even a little. Did the other man see its appearance? Surely, something that looks so vile and terrible must be poisonous. Not only that, but they are stalking him!

He remains protectively behind the winged man.]

I... I plan to get off the water! But these fiends... they are stressing me out!

[regulate]

[ Of all the people to use as a human shield...Sunday does not find himself anywhere near physically imposing for the job, but the fish do seem less interested in him than the other young man. ]

Then putting ample distance between yourself and them should hopefully help.

[ He holds out a hand towards the stranger, not wanting to simply drag him away when he's feeling so tense and high-strung. ]

It will be all right. I think I see a place of refuge up ahead.

[ Assuming his eyes are not deceiving him, and there is indeed a castle in the distance. ]

[heavyliesthecrown]

Yes, alright! Let us be off!

[He does, indeed, grab his hand, but rather than waiting, he does actually take off running. Sunday will be the one dragged if he does not also run. If it appears that the fish are following, though, he will change tactics.]

[regulate]

[ He frowns as he follows after the stranger, still not entirely sure that what is moving from within the water is actually fish or the water itself, but it is stretching out towards them –still trying to grab a hold. Rather than wait to see what happens when they are caught, he starts running too towards the palace, though he has no delusions it will be all that much safer compared to staying outside.

Once they are inside, he takes a moment to catch his breath and take in their dreary surroundings. There is barely any light, and the palace has a humidity to it that feels suffocating and unforgiving. ]

Are you all right? Do you see anything amiss with this entryway? It does sound rather quiet inside.

[ Except for distant whispers, but he is not sure if he's imagining that or not. Everything in this Dreamscape is making him doubt his own senses. ]

[heavyliesthecrown]

[When it becomes clear they ARE following, he has half a mind to climb up the other man. The only thing that prevents him from doing so, aside from pride, which was almost tossed out the window, is the fact that he thinks it would have slowed them down.

Once safely at the water's edge and inside the palace, he slumps for a moment to catch his breath. Goodness. He does not consider himself a terrible runner. He certainly is not as fast as Narukami back home. But adrenaline had spurred him forward. Now that they are 'safe'... probably, he feels it drain from his body.]

I... I am alright. Goodness. That was... unsettling. Not that I was terrified, of course. But it... unnerved me.

[Certainly, he wasn't any more scared than the stranger. He clears his throat and rises to stare around the entry room.]

I... do not necessarily see anything wrong with it.

[Not that this entire dream isn't unusual. Straightening, he makes to brush at his clothes.]

It does feel a little strange, though. But in the end, I am not sure we have any other option but to proceed forward.

[Despite possible misgivings. Turning to the slightly taller man, Tsukasa lifts a hand to his own chest.]

Forgive me for the rush earlier. Thank you for accompanying me to shore. My name is Tsukasa Suou. If there is something amiss with this strange palace, then I shall ensure your safety in repayment for your help. You may rely on me.

flesh 1 we're doing this again

[hanikamu]

[Did Tsukasa think he could be someone's prince charming tonight? Too bad. Rinne struts in immediately after Tsukasa tries to ask another guest for a dance, cutting between the poor girl and Tsukasa's outstretched hand.]

What about me, King-kun? No dances for Rinne-kun?

[To his credit, Rinne cleans up nicely. It changes nothing about the everything else about him.]

LMFAO take 2

[heavyliesthecrown]

[The transformation that takes over Tsukasa's face is impressive. He blinks in surprise, initially, until he recognizes the other idol in front of him, and his words and actions and who is is finally catch up.

This man is...]

Rinne Amagi-san!? W-What is the meaning of this!?

[His question is a shocked demand! How long has he been here for, actually? More importantly, what is he doing in his dream!?]

[hanikamu]

Uh, I think it means I'm asking for a dance?

[He chuckles, amusement clear from the glint in his eyes and awfully smug smirk. What's this kid so worked up about? Clearly not the girl who walks away, offended.]

I was lookin' for someplace to hang when I saw your face in the crowd. It's pretty hard to miss an idol, you know? Especially one who's related to our cute lil' Kohaku-chan. Your wings are soooo fluffy and adorable. Kyahaha! Makes me wanna touch 'em! Can I, can I?.

[He makes grabby hands at them. Give.]

[heavyliesthecrown]

[His feathers all ruffle. Of course, the feathers are impossible to hide. It feels... more than a little strange, but he heard some people have gone so far as to turn into insects. When he realizes that, he cannot help but feel a little relieved that feathered wings and some tufts of feathers in his hair are all he has.

So far.

. . . Naturally, he takes note of Rinne properly now in search of any differences he may sport, too.]

They are simply cosmetic due to this entire spectacle. I assume...

[Surprisingly, he does not attempt to stop him if he tries, though. Physically, he craves touch, for some inexplicable reason. Partially, he supposes, why a dance felt appropriate.]

Is Koha-k er.... Oukawa also here?

[hanikamu]

[ Tsukasa spots no immediate physical differences. But, the unnatural warmth that radiates from Rinne's hands as he strokes the feathers on his head is notable. ]

Ahh? I wouldn't know. I ain't his keeper! Washa washa... [ Sorry. Not sorry? This is fun. More of this. ] I bet Kohaku-chan'd be cute as a button if he were. If it were up to me, he'd be a tiiiiiny little kitty cat, with pink fur and huge lavender eyes. Mew, mew!

[ But his voice can't go that high, so the strain in his mews are painfully apparent. He's still stroking Tsukasa's feathers, by the way. They're so soft and glossy. Are they cosmetic, though? Hmm.

Rinne yanks a feather off. ]

1/2

[heavyliesthecrown]

[Kohaku as a tiny little kitten. Mew... Mew. Uwaaah.... the image in his mind is too adorable! He can practically just imagine it-! If Kohaku were, then he'd pick him up and-]

2/2

[heavyliesthecrown]

Ouch-!

[Jolting abruptly as one of the feathers is plucked, a hand lifts to rub at the sore spot.]

W-What did you do that for!?

new flesh, 1

[snaggletooth]

[ Tsukasa's mannerisms draw a lot of attention. There's a showiness to them that outright states that he's here to entertain. Even if Ivan weren't skilled at staying aware of his surroundings in a crowded party setting, he would have noticed him around.

By the time he's approached with boring smalltalk, he's already clocked how little his attention matters to him compared to that of the ladies. Idly leaning his cheek into his hand, he looks the other man over like he's seeing him for the first time, although he's going to dispel that notion quite fast: ]

You're only asking females for a dance?

Re: new flesh, 1

[heavyliesthecrown]

[The confident smile Tsukasa mustered for his interactions falters a little upon the question. He is quick to try and recover, though he does seem a little thrown off balance. Quickly, he glances around the room to ascertain if perhaps many men are dancing with other men and women with other women.]

Oh? Well... I suppose simply because that is how it is done back home. It is what I am accustomed to.

[True enough. In all his time learning how to properly dance and attending soirées, he has never seen two men dance together, at the very least. He thinks his family and the surrounding guests would, perhaps, frown upon it. They could be quite strict about tradition.]

Um... is it different for you? If two men were to dance together, how would you decide who is to lead?

[snaggletooth]

[ Ivan casually sips at some water. As much as he favors the sweeter liquids, this won't twist and tug at his head, giving it a chance to clear. Said water is still contained in a glass flute, overly ornate like everything here.

His eyes show muted interest, peering over it as the other attempts to explain. ]

Dancing in pairs wasn't customary. I'm just curious.

[ But if it was, Ivan could see the segyein wanting it restricted to certain pairings. They had all their own ideas about how caring for a male pet differed from caring for a female pet. ]

Wouldn't whichever wanted to lead just do so?

[heavyliesthecrown]

[Oh-! That interests him. At the very least, it makes him curious. Dancing in pairs was not customary? He thought that was quite common, actually. But, considering the strange spread of individuals here from various other places, perhaps he oughtn't be so shocked.]

I... suppose that one could simply choose like that. Most men, I think, likely only ever trained in how to lead, while women would have been taught to follow their lead in dance. In ballroom dance, at least. It may throw both gentlemen off if they switch things up when accustomed to one particular role.

[That does not mean that they could not adjust and learn. For a moment, he is thoughtful and tips his head to the side. Then after some thought, he lifts a hand to his chest.]

Would you like me to teach you? Perhaps there is someone you wish to ask to dance here tonight? Fufu... ♪

[Surely... it would not be frowned on for him to teach someone else. Glancing around the floor, it does seem that people are a little more... relaxed, he thinks, than they might be at home. He can already imagine Narukami sighing that he's being too uptight about it all.]

Um... of course, I am more accustomed to leading. But I think I could show you whichever role you would prefer? It would be instructional, of course. I suppose, since you are taller than I, the leading role would likely be yours. Typically, since the lead is male and they tend to be taller, it works more easily that way, since you must guide your partner.

[snaggletooth]

[ There is someone he'd like to dance with, though he looks at the young man making the insinuation a little impassively. For a fact, it's one-hundred percent of the reason he considers the offer that comes attached. While he knows he can improv a dance, a very specific, age-old dance that holds meaning to their species is not something he can just recreate on the spot.

A moment later, he stands from his seat — ...and also takes a moment to push it back in to the table, manners! ]

Then please, show me.

[ He notes, upon slanting his eyes downward and seeing the whorl of his scalp, that Tsukasa is shorter than Till. But that's fine—he can adjust. ]

It sounds complicated, like I would benefit from guidance. And I take it you have quite the background to be bringing up what is customary and what is not, ha. Don't worry about explaining that so much — just the proper movements, and I would be indebted to you.

[heavyliesthecrown]

[The observation earns a faint laugh.]

Mm, indeed! My upbringing was a little strict, and so this was a necessary component of it.

[Not that he is complaining. He is glad that he was taught. Whatever difficulties he may have had growing up, he is sure he is all the better for them, and is aware that his parents genuinely have done the best they could. Polite as well, Tsukasa pushes in his own chair, before leading the way to the floor where they will have plenty of room to dance. Others are as well, despite the lack of music. Perhaps... it is possible to supply it? Someone told him these veils serve as a sort of magical connection to others.]

Allow me to lead for a moment, so that I may demonstrate a little, first-

[Carefully taking the stranger's hands, he places them in the opposite position of what he ultimately intends to teach.]

Where mine go right now is where your own will lie, ultimately. If I lead you, it may give you an idea of how to lead yourself, though.

[Tsukasa's own hands move into the lead's 'proper' position.]

The waltz works in a three-fourths time signature. Like this-

One-Two-Three, One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three~

Flesh 1

[vixenish]

Oh, my.

[ she smiles like the blade of a knife, bright and sharp, when he bows—though there's an undeniable dusting of pink across her cheeks thanks to the gentlemanly act.

his outfit is rather wild, but its handsome on him. they don't match at all, but she doesn't seem to mind, given the way her smile touches her eyes beneath her veil.

Lortel takes his hand. ]

I would, my lord, [ she teases, beaming. ]

[heavyliesthecrown]

Then, I am beyond fortunate this day. We may as well enjoy ourselves despite this most bizarre situation. I am quite glad to meet such a lovely new face. ♪

[With grace, he gently takes her hand to lead her toward the 'dance floor', where the area is clear for the two of them, and carefully moves his hands respectfully into place.]

My name is Tsukasa Suou. With whom do I have the honor of sharing this dance?

[vixenish]

[ Lortel laughs softly, her chin dipping as she laughs a quiet, helpless laugh.

it's very charming. she's almost annoyed by how charmed she feels. ]

Lortel, [ she beams at him, raising her gaze. ] Lortel Kehelland. It's a pleasure, Tsukasa.

[ he's so polite. Lortel, too, settles her hands into their proper positions, pleased to dance with someone she does not have to teach. ]

You're taking all of this awfully well.

[heavyliesthecrown]

Please, the pleasure is all mine.

[His smile is genuine at least. He takes the lead and guides her smoothly into the waltz, a rendition of this, slightly rearranged by a certain genius composure into a three-fourths signature for the purpose of such a dance, plays through the murmur within the background, with only the occasional flashes of individuals on stage.

He remains conversational as they move.]

Indeed, though? I am quite surprised by it all, but I assume that eventually, I shall wake up. I can certainly think of worse dreams than dancing with pleasant company and enjoying a meal.

[There's only a faint flicker of uncertainty that follows his statement, his gaze shifting toward the strange individual overseeing the event.]

That oddly masked fellow watching over it all aside.

[vixenish]

[ he's the second to actually affect music for their dance. she wonders, immediately, if he plays or sings music. another performer, perhaps?

his comments, though...

... win a faint but definite sense of pity.

it's brief; she quickly stitches it up. ]

... you'll certainly wake up, [ she allows. ] But I can't promise it will be pleasant.

[ should he return whence he came? of course, he'll be fine.

the other option is Manhattan. and he doesn't seem ready for such a thing.

her gaze tracks to One, the silent sentinel somberly watching them all. her serious eyes are hard to read. ]

... we're in Sleep's domain, you see. All of this is hers. We're simply ...

[ ... ]

Vessels.