Aider was just staring, she was staring for a few couple minutes now. Finally she managed to get up and slowly walk over to Zinnia and says something. "Hey..." she spoken in monotone voice "...excuse me...could you perhaps do me a favor?" The battleboro then reaches to her arm armor and clicks the plate open, revealing some medical equipments "I'm out of blood in O-type blood bag...do you perhaps have or know someone with O blood type? I really need to fill it up..."
If there's already a thread like this, please go ahead and let me know!
So the point of this game is very simple! The character below you will ask your character for a favor. This favor can be anywhere as simple as stepping aside for them on the street, to as difficult and insane as asking that they take a hit out on a mortal enemy, or to as silly and ridiculous as putting a pineapple on their head and doing the "I'm a Little Teapot" dance. Whatever they want it to be!
Then, you edit your post to have your character's reaction to the favor, whether it be positive or negative!
Rules
1) PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CLAIM A POST FIRST. This is to ensure no one gets ninja'd, which we all know can be super frustrating!
2) Let's stay away from any insanely NSFW favors, alright? Lightly suggestive is alright, but I would prefer to keep this thread open to everyone if possible!
3) Make sure you post IC, and that your favors and responses are written IC!
If I need to update these rules, I will!
Have fun everyone!
Let's just face it: Dolores's measly-looking first-aid kit was nothing compared to the impressive arsenal of medical knowledge that the other seemed to wield with such confidence.
The bar was sort of low given the former maid's lack of medical experience, but even then... The prospect of being inferior to someone else... Kind of made her feel ambivalent? Wait. What? Ambivalent? Dolores knew that she shouldn't be feeling this way, as her legs trembled almost helplessly, and yet... There was that oddly comforting feeling that washed over her whenever she was reminded of her place in society: just some old woman meant to care for others, regardless of the cost. No special skills or talents - just keep on giving and hope that you manage to get enough to scrape by. Seems decent enough!
But it also stung, as she sheepishly grinned at the battleboro while stammering, "You know... Miss... I know, uh, this sounds a bit ridiculous, but can you help me check up on my dog for a moment? I promise that it won't take that long, but..." She looked more like a fool, if anything. Setting the first-aid kit down with a slight clack, Dolores then looked back towards the room where her beloved Poffin was kept, before continuing with her explanation oh-so cautiously:
"... I have to admit that the floors of this house... Aren't exactly the most well-cared for in the world? I try my best, but the wood here is old, and sometimes it rots. I've tried contacting city officials about it, since I really don't want the renovation to cut into the social security funds that I get from them every so often. And I'm already on thin ice with them because of, well, the whole dog situation, so... I hope you understand, right? The floor is old, and sometimes it splits, and... Uhhh..."
"Please don't consider me irresponsible, but," admitted Dolores with a slight squeak in her voice, "I... I think my dog got a splinter in one of her paws. You don't mind checking that out, right? I don't think it's going to get infected or form an abscess, but..." The older woman trailed off before starting to walk towards the intended holding room, where... Ever so faintly, one could hear the shufflings of an animal inside - as well as an occasional whine that escaped from its throat every few movements or so. Presumably - of course.
Dolores paused again before asking with a mumble, "... You know... Just in case... She's an old dog, you know. I've had her for at least a few decades, yet she still acts like a puppy. I don't really know how long her species lives, but I'm surprised she's able to function so well, while I'm sort of stuck with this whole aging business... Arthritis and bone atrophy - I mean..." She chuckled a bit while keeping up her usual grin. Then it hit her.
"You do take care of animals, do you?" she asked, "I don't want to waste your time if you only take care of humans and the like... Veterinary medicine is different from general medicine, after all. I just... I just want to make sure - just in case... Miss." She offered a curtsy - despite doing one just an hour ago - before... Waiting. And hoo boy, was it going to kick her in the ass a bit if it turned out more serious than she expected...
FOLLOW-UP TIME. Dolores literally can't say "no" to anything (+ she'd do anything and everything for her friends), so En's all good with her rtfvrefverfvrf- :"DDD
Dolores, like a duck shaking off some water, was quick to shake her head and perk herself up as soon as she was called over, because… Well… Old habits died hard, apparently! She even clasped her hands together as if expecting a stern command from her boss, not a gentle request from a friend of hers.
“Oh, don’t worry about it!” she reassured En with a gentle laugh, “I have a lot of free time in my hands, you know. I’m always ready to come here at a short notice, especially if I’m needed for something.” Which wasn’t wrong! Being retired and isolated kind of… Made twenty-four hours feel like twenty-four days at times. Not that she uttered that, as she remained in her usual posture (again a remnant of the earlier years), but it was… Definitely implied.
Just don’t point that out. Poor Dolores would’ve imploded in an instant if that were the case.
She nodded at the king’s comments before raising her brows when she saw pain on his face.
Sure, the older woman was aware that such pain was relatively minor, but she couldn’t help but utter with a slight gasp, “Oh, that’s unfortunate, sir. So I assume that they’re not hungry, or that they want to try something new?” She cocked her head while expecting an answer.
Poor Dolores. Old habits really did die hard.
“I’m sure it’s a phase they’ll get over eventually,” she attempted to console him by uttering, though… That did sound like an asshole saying in hindsight. Oops! Now awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck, Dolores continued, “I mean-” Annnnnd then she was cut off when he looked straight at her. And complimented her cooking! Him, a literal king! Praising a former maid’s traits!
With a sheepish grin, the former maid in question couldn’t help but shuffle her feet against the floor, muttering in reply, “Well… If you say so… I just cook and bake for my own sustenance, really… The bar isn’t necessarily gourmet by any means…” Nonetheless, Dolores raised her brows when recipes were mentioned.
“Of course!” chirped Dolores in response, “Or, well, I’ll at least try!” Keeping up the sheepish grin from before, she explained, “I… I don’t usually write down my recipes; they’re more eyeballed than properly measured, but I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s sort of something that you get used to over time.” That, and her employers were quick to kick her ass if they thought something was inconsistent, but it’s fiiiiiine.
“I assume you want something with onions?” she now asked the king while taking a step closer, “Like… French onion soup, or something like that? Oh, do let me know, sir. I’ll see what I can do from there, mm?”
"Oh, Dolores, thank goodness! Thank you for coming on such a short notice! Don't worry, it's nothing too serious-- I mean... it is, and isn't." En waved his hands around in mid-shrug, searching for the right words. "I want to bake something for my kids. Normally I'd make strawberry muffins, but lately neither of them have been wanting them!" The pain was clear on his face. It was as though someone had impaled him right in the heart. "To think the day would come that my own children wouldn't want my cooking. It's heartbreaking, and I don't know if I'll ever fully recover from it."
A heavy sigh, a heavy look.
Then a determined one, directed straight at Dolores.
"Your cooking and baking is phenomenal, Clayton's told me," he said. "You must have some recipes you can show me? Please, Dolores, I must find a way to win them over with my cooking, and neither of them are as passionate about onions as I am. It's a simple favor I ask of you, but I'll pay you back any way you'd like! I promise!"
Skinner made sure to ignore a loud punching noise in the background as he attempted to make it seem like everything was fine. This was totally a decision that he and his wife both agreed upon! This totally wasn't something that said wife had been fuming over for several hours after the "agreement" was made! And most importantly, this totally wasn't the main reason why she was trying to punch in the door, while the older man leaned back in his seat and regarded the other party with a sheepish grin.
"I hope what I provided to you - the seafood platter, I mean - is a decent enough payment for the favor that I'm about to ask you," he quipped to his guest with his usual chirping voice. Said thuds of his wife's fists against the door, in fact, could barely be heard as long as he spoke, so... You know what he did? Not shut the fuck up. Instead, he continued to babble, "I understand if all of this variety is a bit overwhelming to you, but I do have the resources to indulge in such decadence, yes? Here, you'll find plenty of meats that would be quite pricey in most markets! Abalone, scallop, spot prawn, red snapper... You name it, and it's probably in there! All for the price for free huh!"
With a hearty laugh, the middle-aged man leaned back in his seat and hled his hands behind the back of his head- You know... For someone with an important favor in mind, as well as a wife who was currently slamming her fists into the door, he sure was taking this casually...
In fact, the aristocrat even had the audacity to run his fingers through his hair while sniffing, "Now, with that out of the way... I might as well reveal the favor to you, yes?" He paused, just in time for his wife's punching to become perfectly audible. Skinner attempted not to wince at the noise but failed, his shoulders tensing up as soon as he heard her fists slamming into the door. "She better not break it down again..." he mumbled under his breath with a concerned frown, before glancing over at the other just to see how the other was dealing with... All of that.
Because let's be real: getting involved with Skinner's family was... A doozy, to say the least.
"My wife and I plan to go out on vacation for a bit," Skinner explained once the punching - for a moment - seemed to cease, "and she absolutely insists that we shouldn't bring our daughter along-" He paused, half-expecting for his words to be interrupted with a punch. Instead, he was greeted with silence. Well then. Skinner chewed on his lip and continued, "- Mostly just because she just wants us to unwind for a bit, you know? Not have to worry about anything? And you know how children can be at times, yes? They can be a bit of a nuisance even on a good day..."
Chuckling under his breath, the aristocrat cut straight to the point and asked, "So... Would you mind babysitting our daughter until we get back? She's only a few years old, and a bit reserved, but she's a good kid nonetheless. If you need anything, you can always ask a servant to help you out. I don't exactly know how long my wife and I will be gone, though..." He let out a sigh before straightening his posture just a bit. "... I promise that I'll get some more seafood for you to enjoy if you go through with the favor, sir. As repayment. Or..." Skinner cocked his head juuuust a bit. "... Maybe something else? I understand if the platter is overwhelming, as said before. I wouldn't mind if you opted for something simpler the next time I ask you for something like this, mm?"
I'll try my best to do a follow-up for NP if I have the time!!
Olethros was rather uneasy. That was nothing new -- she was always nervous -- but something about Skinner gave her the jumps. Again, nothing new. She was afraid of most people and simply couldn't help it, especially when those people were powerful men. He was a politician, some whispered, and a cockfighter of sorts. For that, she felt it necessary to be reserved. Besides, it wasn't him that she needed help from. He just had the means to summon them, so to speak.
"There are some fruits that I need." she said in an undertone, "They are just some oranges for me to make loukoumi with. I picked all of them on my own, so there is no need to help me with that. It's just that I cannot lift the basket." She paused as she looked at the man. As strong as he looked, she wasn't sure if she wanted his help, or if he even had the time to. Besides, animals didn't have the sapience to feel the most complex emotion. They were best to be around her.
"I need your beetle and your crab." The nymph added. She held her hand out timidly. "I will bring both of them right back, I promise, and I will keep them fed. They can have a few of the oranges, or you may if you so wish. I don't mind. I've picked enough to where it'll have to be my every meal for the next week or so." At least she won't get scurvy!
Rian dives, skin and organs and body breaking apart and dissipating into shadows.
He comes up. An old ruin he's never seen greets him. The shadows feel different here, he thinks. Not home, then.
They dive in again. And come up in an active battlefield. Oh woops. They dive in again. An underwater cave greets them. Not here. Another dive. A crevice over a bubbling volcano. Woopsy. Again. A shadow of a futuristic-looking building. A dive. A random house's attic. Another dive. Another wrong world. A dive. Another wrong universe. A dive.
He comes up.
It takes a second for the surroundings to register, brain a little mush from all the shadow hopping. The sounds of a wetlands finally reach him, frogs and birds, and sounds of mulchy waters. He looks around.
And startles a little from the person in the waters a few steps behind him. "Uh," they start, "Hi. By any chance you know where we are?" They turn around to fully face the other. "I think i'm kinda lost, actually." Maybe they can help, they don't feel like a regular human mortal anyhow?
v "Ah, well." Rian fidgeted in their seat. Under the table, they flexed their hand. "That's kindaa physically impossible for me to give you." They tested the shadows at their back. "Cuz you see, anything, and i mean anything, that detaches for me will. Go poof, usually." They shifted a foot, and the shadows under the table waited for their command.
Over the table, they took out a pen they always keep in their pant pockets and let Roswell see it for a moment. And without any words, Rian casually plunged it into the meaty part of their forearm.
Black blood splashed towards the table from the wound. But before the blood could even touch the surface, it turned into smokey shadows, and then dissipated into nothing. The wound, meanwhile, was already healed.
"So," Rian looked up at Roswell, "Physically impossible, sorry to say." Rian shifted again, prepared to dip.
Spoilered for Rian stabbing himself on the arm with a pen.
Roswell pressed the tips of his fingers against each other as he eyed Rian across from him. His palms rested easily on the table and his lips were curled in an almost perfect smile. "Oi got to ask yer sumethin'" Roswell said. As his foot impatiently tapped the ground. "Sumethin' small," he added with that same sharp smile. "I'd just a wee lil favor, yer won't even miss it." The witch thief gently leaned forward. Closing the gap between them. "Oi need sum of yer blood. De black stuff," Roswell said. As his gaze now fell in Rian's arms. As if he could pierce the other's veins with his gaze alone.
"Der aren't a lot of.. World hoppers around here in Kretschwick, Void! In ss entire known world." Roswell swung his arms in a theatrical way of adding something extra to his words. "Saints know whaat oi can do with yer blood. What tokens oi can craft, whaat spirits oi can ease. All for de greater good of course," he said. Roswell leaned backwards again, recreating the boundary between them. "Oi don't need more den a needle prick." He illustrated a needle prick with his hands. "Yee don't have to worry about me harvesting some of dat shadow powers of yers, oi promise yer dat's not possible here. All we do here with exoterie is improving our lives! De limited things magic can do here would be laughable in yer eyes really. It sharpens our daggers, clean our mind." Roswell placed his foot against the table's edge and pushed his chair back a bit. "Dat needle prick would last me a lifetime 'nd more. Really, oi don't ask for much."
(I'm sorry you have to deal with this bitch
Danndraa was loving life right now. She had all she could want at the moment. A pipe of shimmer weed, a cup of tea, and a favorable possible hire. Mind you it was a forcible one. Considering how she had him magically bound to a chair. BUT STILL! Her great genius had made her great at scouting for useful people. This one was a thief. Now mind you she caught him with a very simple binding spell that came with the alarms she set in place. MANY FAILSAFES AND HIDING SPELLS! PERFECT FOR HIDING HERSELF FROM THOSE PESKY FOOLS WHO DARE CALL THEMSELVES WIZARDS!
Calm yourself. You are going to WOW THIS THIEVING FOOL! Letting her face to open up and take in the shimmer weed smoke she blew up into the air with a brisk laugh. Ok now that you've established you can laugh at this fool "Well now thief! I ask a favor to you- 'WHAT DO I GET IN RETURN' I hear your dim mind ask. WELL! All you must do is cause some general misrule and release the livestock, steal some jewels and plant them on people, AND CAUSE CHAOS! In exchange, I don't kill you! A simple favor but one that is VERY beneficial for both of us"
Xander rolled his whiskey glass between his fingers. The pleasant cold of the falling evening and the alcohol he’d consumed, reddened his cheeks. Although the day was ending, the party still seemed to be alive and well. Xander placed his arm on the railing of the balcony as his eyes studied the festive-gardens underneath them. The small botanic garden was adorned with lit lanterns that casting ghostly gleams into the rising darkness. Cozy. But distant.
“I was wondering, my friend,” he finally spoke to Isolde. His eyes kind and a small smile on his face, as he turned to the composer. “Am I in the position to ask you a favor?” his eyebrows raised as he spoke.
“If not, pardon my directness,” he said as his smile grew a little. “I am a Kretsch after all. But,” he chuckled. “I was wondering if you could review a composition I've written a few weeks back?” his chuckle ebbed over in a laugh as his gaze shifted back to the spectacle underneath them. He took a sip. Allowing the warm whiskey to tingle his lips and throat. “ I have to admit, madam, that I’m a bit.. Stuck. My partner,” he paused. His smile grew softer. “He suggested me to add a harmonica into it. Or a kazoo,” Xander couldn’t help but snort. He jerked his head, almost spilling the last bits of whiskey from his glass.
“I do love him, madam. I truly do. But, do not get me wrong, but he got the…. Musical talents of a krō.” He shook his head. “I am looking for a fresh pair of eyes for my piece. Someone that actually knows what she’s talking about,” he said. Xander’s eyes tracked back to Isolde. “Someone who knows how to give honest feedback,” he added in a softer tone. The smile faltered slightly, and his gaze now avoided the other.
“I sometimes feel like this path we walk, miss Blacach, is a lonely one,” he admitted. “We’ve both reached a certain point that… Honest feedback of people that aren't are peers is a rare thing to find.”
--
He looked up. Surprised at first, but then a smile crossed his lips. "Of course I will," he reassured the courier. "Is there any song you like to hear?" he asked him. "If not I can sing you my favorite passage of 'de laatste lange dag'. It is my favorite."