seelie; video; why this

[depicted]

[Oh, look, it's Dorian Gray! Everyone remembers Dorian Gray, right? Sweet kid, a little naive, recently got scolded at the royal audience? Well, today you wouldn't believe it, not from how very self-possessed he looks, how pleased, how utterly brazen.

One might think that someone who just got publicly called out and punished might feel more need to keep their head down and be discrete, but apparently not. Every actor needs an audience, and this actor, at least, seems to be particularly committed to enjoy the show he's putting on. Feline in recline, he speaks as one who savours language, gesturing in smooth, languid movements. He is the 1890s Aesthete come to life, in all its hedonistic glory, and he is here to share.]

How dreary we all are getting. It's the fin de siècle all over again, but with far less Oscar. Or Yeats, for that matter. [Suitably, mockingly dramatic:] "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, / Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

[And here's a scoff.] I'm not feeling it. We are meant to be the court of tradition, of love, of welcoming the apocalypse. And yet I haven't seen even one orgy in my time at Caer Glaem. Frankly, I'm unimpressed.

[The headshake turns back into that canary-eating smile, and he purrs out his proposal for fixing this shameful problem.]

So tonight, at the sun's setting, I'll be holding a, ah, ritual in the Magi's Workroom. Wine from Mandragora Estates—top of the line, for those tragically ignorant of the most up-and-coming vinery in the Drabwurld—and various other substances. Children not invited.

It's a protection ritual, for the record. It would be so very unsuitable to be decadently useless in our embrace of the End. Try to bring yourself as magically charged as you can.

[ooc: THERE WILL BE NO LOG FOR THIS I am not going to put up an actual orgy log dear god. But this a thing Dorian will really be doing, any character can come as long as they're over the age of consent. Wine, drugs, and sex, all night. Technically, it really is an actual magical ritual.]

Comments

[showmeyourwreath]

[She huffs a little!!]

Well, did it slip your mind?

[depicted]

It didn't ever occur to me to tell you, no.

[showmeyourwreath]

That's...an actually unambiguous answer. [She blinks as he tells her a completely unadulterated truth.]

Which is very worrisome in its own way. Most people would think to mention these things! Or, I suppose [she rolls her eyes and exhales] yes, hide them, but the thought just never came to you at all?

[Dorian, that's weird. You're weird.]

[depicted]

Not even once, Flora.

[showmeyourwreath]

So you weren't hiding that fact?

[SHE HATES THIS STUPID CURSE THING.]

[depicted]

You know I wouldn't mean to hide anything truly important from you.

[showmeyourwreath]

[AHA.

Her eyes widen a bit with realisation, and her mouth quirks as she fights not to smile. She's not amused, not one bit!! In fact, she wags a finger.]

That's a deflection; it all depends on what you think is truly important, which begs the question, Dorian, if you think this...orgy is truly important.

[depicted]

[Okay, she has him fair and square, and he has to laugh about it. She finally pinned it down.]

Of course it isn't truly important. It might do some good with the spell, maybe keep a number of the books sake in the case of an attack. But in the grand scheme of things, this is just a little gesture.

[showmeyourwreath]

[She clasps her hands in delighted triumph, but she takes her true victory in hearing him laugh.

Flora, you're supposed to be upset with him.]

So, why are you doing it, then?

[Her tone is light, curious, not at all probing, but the more she thinks about it, the more it does make her wonder, because, well...alright, if she had absolutely no choice but to be objective about it, a protection ritual would be really important, even if it's done like...this but he doesn't think so.

Something isn't adding up, here.]

[depicted]

[He opens his mouth to lie—and then he doesn't. It isn't the curse. It's just . . . he doesn't.

Dorian's eyes turn down, and he shakes his head.]

I'd rather not talk about it.

[The truth. One that he hopes she respects for now.]

[showmeyourwreath]

[Her voice softens, and she wants to put a hand on his.]

That's fine, Dorian. You know where to find me if you change your mind. Just...make sure you clean up really, really well, okay? Please.

[Her face is a little red, but she offers him a small smile.]

[depicted]

[Okay, okay, he can laugh about that. Thanks, Flora.]

Don't worry. Lancelot has already requested that.