dorian "empty carbs" gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
depicted) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eachdraidh2015-05-06 03:58 pm
depicted) wrote in eachdraidh2015-05-06 03:58 pm
Entry tags:
- aragorn: tolkien,
- aslan: the chronicles of narnia,
- clara oswald: doctor who,
- colette brunel: tales of symphonia,
- cullen rutherford: dragon age,
- diarmuid ua duibhne (lancer): fate/zero,
- dorian gray: codg,
- elise de la serre: assassin's creed,
- emil castagnier: tales of symphonia,
- erik lehnsherr: x-men,
- faolan: the bridei chronicles,
- flora: the winx club,
- gabranth: final fantasy xii,
- lancelot: bbc merlin,
- lancer: fate/stay night,
- lia de beaumont: le chevalier d'eon,
- merida: brave,
- rachel elizabeth dare: pjo,
- remus lupin: harry potter,
- snow white: once upon a time,
- steve rogers: mcu,
- tarz: eachdraidh,
- zhaneel: mage wars trilogy
seelie; video; why this
[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.]
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.]
video; private
video; private
Aye, I should think. [She pauses, head tilting slightly as her facial feathers raise and flatten again quickly.]
I must admit to... curiosity... [Not about the sex. Though she hadn't partaken, she knew perfectly well how THAT worked, thanks.] And in the chance you might need assistance you would have someone not otherwise... occupied?
[You're an impressive fellow, Dorian... between the voyeuristic Lion Jesus and a gryphon helping you cast magic, this was going to be the party of the year.]
video; private
if you wish, it is an open door. You can stay as long as you like and leave whenever you please.
Video; private - Sorry for the delay! I had finals. ;__;
Then you have but ask of me what you will, my lord... Tell me where I might meet you and we shall see the task done.
Video; private - no problem, I understand
Video; private
Dorian, then... [Her beak gapes a moment in mirth before clicking shut again.] I shall be but a few moments.
[OOC: And completely up to you if we continue and thread out the stones' making, or hand wave it altogether. I'm game for either.]
no subject
no subject