riverviewlogs | player-suggested mini-event: A STRANGER'S BED

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player-suggested mini-event: A STRANGER'S BED

who: everyone in Riverview!
what: Player-Suggested Mini-Event
when: August 26th - August 31st
warnings: please put any necessary warnings in the subject lines

a stranger's bed

As a lead in to September, Riverview's ♥ Month of Romance, this is a completely optional mingle that will cause affected characters to end up in each other's beds. There are various options for both established and new CR. While it's easiest for characters still living in Communal Housing, anyone who has moved to their own homes can be affected and end up finding their way to Communal Housing, or within their own housing.

Residents of the Quarantine may notice that various businesses selling food and drink - cafés, diners, bakeries, restaurants, and other such establishments - are heavily advertising a new flavor that's supposed to be the biggest thing since pumpkin spice. A flavor additive that's said to subtly change the flavor of whatever the diner is eating or drinking to optimize the dish, drink, dessert, or any other food item it is added to for each person's individual taste, it's been selling like wildfire and is the latest trend.

After the cause of the rash of amnesia was revealed to be plant-related, sellers are keeping the origin of the secret ingredient very close to their chests, since it is a derivative of a recently-discovered plant dubbed chameleonis. Depending on the method of ingestion, this additive can have a variety of unexpected side effects, but only once the person who has ingested it becomes sleepy. Methods of ingestion include:

● Ingestion: Beverage: When ingested as a flavor shot to drinks ranging from sodas to coffee to alcoholic beverages, it can cause a desire for closeness to a particular other person. Affected characters end up crawling into bed with that specific other character when they become sleepy.

● Ingestion: Food: When ingested as a flavoring added to a baked good or other meal, it can cause an intense desire for body heat when the character becomes drowsy. It won't matter to an affected character who is providing the body heat, so long as it's someone, and they will end up sleepily crawling into someone else's bed for warmth.

● Inhalation: When inhaled ether from a steaming hot beverage or soup, or as an essential oil or aroma from a bakery, it can cause disorientation when a character becomes sleepy. Affected characters either aren't sure which bed is theirs and simply crawl into the closest one, occupied or not, or become convinced that another character's bed is their own.

Feel free to post up a top-level for your own character either affected and invading a random bed or unaffected but open to having their bed invaded by affected characters, or tag around to other people's top-levels.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course not. I know better then to leave her in the care of a monster with big, sharp teeth.

Which makes the threat of making me a daddy fall a little flat, mate.

Have you ever been? A father, I mean.

[He's no idea how old Spike is, but he suspects it's much older than he appears.]

Me?

[The question was hilarious enough that Spike almost spit his beer out, laughing.]

God, no. I was too pathetic when I was alive to get a bird, and, well, once you're dead... doesn't really work that way.

Probably for the best. I can't see you being responsible enough to care for another human being and make sure they don't die on your watch.

[Does this make him more mature then a centuries-old monster? Maybe.]

[Maturity didn't equal responsibility, Ragnar. Nor vice versa. Buffy had been one of the more responsible people he'd met at seventeen. Saving the world seemed to beat that into you.]

You make it seem like having offspring is something I'd want.

It tends to be something most normal people want. But I guess you're far from normal.

[Then again, so was Ivar. But he'd wanted children desperately. With the impotency he had, there was the distinct possibility he'd never get them normally. This might be the only chance he ever had to be a father.]

Lots of people want things that are bad for them. Lots of people are shite parents. Doesn't seem that big of a deal to be able to squirt out a nibblet and then act like it's so bloody hard and you're owed something for it. I might have wanted it, way back when I was a sodding mess. But one has to have another party involved for that, and I... did not.

[Look at that, Ivar. A little open honesty from the loser vampire.]

[Spike's usually so flippant that he takes note when he turns honest for a moment.]

Didn't even need that much myself. Letha was already pregnant when I met her. [He takes a long swig of his beer, finishing it off.] You know, part of me is glad she's gone. I'm going to do a better job raising her then she ever would have.

And yet here you are, talking about running of after the bit's mum to do her in, threatening to leave her with me. Might want to sort out your priorities from your vengeance, mate. Both are good, of course, but one's a bit counterproductive to the other, if you ask me.

Excuse me if my emotions are a bit all over the place right now. It's hard to sort out what I want to do.

[Having responsibilities did make it hard to do what he wanted. But he wouldn't give up Winter for anything. In a way, she was the only thing keeping him from going crazy.]

Of course it is. You're right in the thick of it, ain't you? Right there, heart open and bleeding, all fresh wounds and bright pain. It burns, you know.

[He shuffled closer to the window, tugging open the curtain a bit, showing a single beam of light that blazed down to the carpet. He brushed his hand through it, flames licking over undead, unclean flesh before he smothered it, letting the curtain fall back into place.]

Sometimes that makes it better. Sometimes it doesn't. Pain helps get over pain, you know. So either wreak vengeance on the mother, or find something to distract yourself and try to be a father. Can't be both, mate. Not right yet.

[Ivar watches with intent interest as the flames erupt over Spike's skin. No matter how long he's been here, there's still the sight of some things in the Quarantine that can surprise him. Spike's words sink in, and despite everyone else's best attempts to get Ivar to listen, it's the sarcastic British vampire that's finally gotten through. Strange that.]

I can't leave Winter. That'd be just doing the exact same thing Letha did, even if the reasons for it were different. Guess I'm staying here. [He's not happy about it. More like resigned to something he can't escape.] Besides, she's not going anywhere. I know exactly where she is anytime I decide it's time to go after her.

So sod her and try to find yourself a little bit of peace. If it's love you want and she's not giving it, find someone else. Put it into the little bit--

[Wait, that came out wrong.]

Not that. Put that effort into it. Don't just be a dad. Be a good one. Far too few of those around. Or find something else to fill the hole. You're not going to get anywhere if you're torn on what you want, yeah?

[See? He was so helpful. This is why you let in stray vampires, Ivar. Best life teachers ever.]

And if you get a chance to, rip the bitch's throat out. Win-win.

[Ivar picks up on that accidental innuendo immediately. Why? Because he's sixteen years old and already thinks about sex a lot anyway. A snort of laughter comes out.]

Guess you have a point. And I do intend to be a good father. [Trying is half the battle anyway.]

I dunno about finding someone else just yet. Maybe once it doesn't feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest and stepped on. [Though he does think back to someone that's been on his mind an awful lot lately. Someone with dark eyes, messy hair, and who can shapeshift into different animals...but no matter. Fixating on Marco this early may not be healthy, but at least it's a type of coping mechanism.

He grins sharply at Spike's last comment.]

I intend to.

Knew I didn't hate you for a reason. I wasn't so nearly as vindictive as you when I was mortal. You might make a decent vampire.

[That was high praise coming from Spike. Ivar should feel happy.]

Give it about ten more years and maybe I'll consider undeath.

[Ivar looks very pleased with himself. He always recognizes compliments when they come his way simply because he's so unused to them. Not much cause back home to give the poor cripple any praise.]

I'm glad I didn't leave you out on the porch. You're welcome back anytime.

[He didn't correct him -- he was welcome back anytime now that the invitation had been given, but the boy was clearly going through a 'thing', and Spike was as well. He could be a little merciful at the moment. He had kept him from bursting into flame, after all.]

We'll have to see you in ten years, then. Live a little first. Go have your fun, sow your oats, kill a few hundred more people. Then we'll talk.

A few hundred? You flatter me. Consider it a standing promise then when I'm twenty-six. If I'm still alive by then.

[Always the chance someone would kill him before then, but Ivar liked to hope for the best. He wasn't planning to die, not until he'd conquered and become king, in that order.]

Either way. Let's make it an open-ended offer. You ever feel like being more monster than man... if I'm here, we'll see about making it happen.

That'd be one way of making that prophecy come true. [He mutters this thoughtfully, more to himself than Spike. His mother had been a prophetess, seeing bits of the future, and speaking of things to come. She'd said her last son would be born a monster if her husband didn't refrain from having sex with her for three days. Ivar, thus far, had proved her prediction quite right.]

Prophecy? Really? Seen a few of those come and go. What's yours about? 'And lo, the bloody whelp will suckle some teats and chew faces off'?

No, dumbass. [Spike gets a withering glance from Ivar. He also picks up a pillow and makes a lazy attempt to smack him with it.] My mother had the gift to see into the future. She predicted my brother would be born with a pupil in his eye shaped like a snake and he did. Then she predicted before I was born that was going to be a monster. When I was born a cripple, everyone assumed that's what it meant.

[Ooh. No. Not a pillow.]

Cripple don't mean monster, mate. But that's not where you shine, is it. I bet you're a regular ripper, when it comes down to it. Might have liked you around when Angelus was being a ponce.

Tell that to, oh, every single person in 816. [In their eyes, being unable to walk was pretty much the same thing as being a monster. Spike's next words make him perk up a little.]

You'd be right. I'm good at killing. Always have been. [Maybe just a touch too good. He'd killed another boy when he was no more than fives years old. Not one of Ivar's proudest moments. He preferred not to dwell on it if he could help it. He pauses and sounds curious as he asks.] Who's Angelus?

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