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 NSFW/Explicit  Female x Male  Erotica Teetering Point (Quindaro & Tackz)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Quindaro, Jul 14, 2019.

  1. Quindaro

    Quindaro Wild Member Member

    Messages:
    29
    Local Time:
    12:22 PM
    Through the annals of time, humanity has always had an affinity for curiosity. The world's darkest secrets, held by those willing to cross moral and ethical boundaries, in order to achieve one's goals. Avenues opened by those lingering within the shadows. It usually all starts with a glimpse, or the promise of fulfillment, the deepest desire. Other times it's a dream that manifests itself into a thought, then any further it becomes real life.

    Often times, these curiosities can occur in some of the most mundane of places. A suburb outside of a large city at the tail end of summer. Most of the day the air is buzzing with the sound of kids playing, yard work being done and the sound of cars coming and going. Down the road where the street ends is a house that hadn't been touched by time itself. It's walls that of a dark oak, blackout curtains always drawn behind it's wide windows, it stood taller than most of the other cookie cutter homes within the neighborhood. Not many knew the residents personally, for the couple didn't often leave. Their car remained in the garage was an older model from the late fifties, and the only time it was used was presumably to run errands. The grass got trimmed weekly and the young man whom did it for the older couple would be paid in kind, though any attempts by the neighborhood kids to goad him into asking the older couple had failed.

    It was only after an ambulance arrived earlier that summer that the mystique of the old house increased dramatically. The next morning the obituary in the paper read that the old man Dr. Mordian had passed away due to major organ failure. It was said that soon after he passed, his wife passed the next day due to immense grief.

    Up to this point the house remains empty, anyone who had interest in the old house gave up on it. People who visit often report the feeling of being watched, and others cite that the house itself had an ominous feeling about it.

    The city foreclosed the old building and cited it to be demolished and rebuilt into a standard home to make it more marketable. But there was legal issues that held up the city, so now it remains, boarded up all electrical and plumbing cut off and seemingly empty. An odd occurrence every so often, shadows could be seen through the now uncovered windows at night, whistling of various old tunes, and a faint aroma of cinnamon buns. some investigate and find nothing, but they persist.

    Then one night a slip flew from one of the cracked window sills. Drifting and fluttering about aimlessly through the cool night air before flapping on down to one house in particular. There was one window partially ajar that allowed the slip to silently glide in and gently come to rest face down on the nightstand. The slip itself textured like parchment with a circle drawn in black ink. a diagram depicting a basket of wheat a branch of olives and a bottle of wine, though deep within the picture was detailed scrolls and shelves of books behind the basket, they appeared to be chained and locked away, and on the bottom of the slip it was written. "Inibi verum sacrificium." Then there was a number on top of the circle "155 - 4 O'Brien"
     
  2. tackz

    tackz eraserhead baby Member

    Messages:
    20
    Local Time:
    10:22 AM
    Annabelle Conrad's mother had always harped on her, voice shrill and intense, "Curiosity killed the cat, dear."

    It never seemed to sink in.

    Despite her family's constant warnings about the Mordian house and how it radiated a "black energy", Annabelle still slipped out in the dead of night to explore it. Sometimes she came equipped with a bible or a vial of blessed water to help her garner courage, and without fail she wore a necklace adorned with a dainty gold cross resting just above her breastbone. Never had she been able to summon the strength to enter, but just standing outside didn't seem to quell the itching curiosity that brewed within her. There was something about the ancient architecture, the mysterious circumstances surrounding the deaths within, and the fact that there were times where she swore she could hear chatter or music playing from inside that grabbed her-- hook, line, and sinker.

    Her parents and younger sisters were unaware of Annabelle's little night outings, for she knew well that if they were, there would be hell to pay. Despite the eerie dark call of the house, Annabelle refused to let her regular life slip. She was the first up for church in the morning, combing her lengthy, curling flaxen tresses back into a tight ponytail. She was the last to go to bed, making a point to stay up later to extend her prayers to the Lord. She was the perfect, untouched image of self-control and poise-- until the nighttime. She couldn't sleep at night, brown eyes developing dark purple rings beneath them as the smells and sounds of the house kept her awake. The scent of baked goods would waft in tauntingly, drawing Annabelle to her window where she would stare at the house with almost a sense of longing. She would pray about it, beg God to give her strength, but it never seemed to work. The young woman would give into her curiosity, slip on a pair of boots underneath her eggshell-colored nightgown, and hop out through her window to investigate. Many unsatisfying nights were spent standing outside of the home, staring at it almost as if she was waiting for someone to invite her inside, but the boarded up doors signified that there were no occupants to do so.

    Eventually, Annabelle started to give up. She'd come up to the house expecting something, anything to happen, but it did not. The clutches of sleep were starting to grow too strong for her to fight, and the greenery outside and warm temperatures signified that summer was approaching, which meant that she'd be leading the children of the church for vacation bible school. She had a whole life to attend to, and the house was disrupting her natural flow. Swallowing the urges down and locking them tight in a box in the back of her mind, Annabelle was set to continue on with her normal life.

    That is, until, a piece of paper fluttered in through her window on a night that was particularly breezy. Annabelle's attention was drawn to it instantly, the way it settled almost perfectly on the nightstand beside her bed. She snapped her bible shut, dropping it on her bed in exchange for the paper. Something about it was so magnetizing and intriguing that she darted towards it with exceptional quickness, eyes trailing over the bizarre imagery. Wine, a symbol of indulgence, was the first thing that caught her attention. Something about it felt exceptionally... dark, just like the house at the end of the street. Her eyes traveled downwards, reading over the latin phrase that made her head spin. Desperate to translate the curious writings, she fumbled for her laptop, flipping it open and typing the words into translate with shaking fingers.

    "The true sacrifice...?" Her voice was hushed, like she had uttered a cursed phrase. The room fell totally silent for a moment, nothing but the sound of Annabelle's breathing as she considered her options. There was one that called to her more than the rest, and the woman found herself crawling out of bed, grabbing a shoulder bag that she packed with her bible, a battery-powered flashlight, and the slip of parchment paper that she had folded neatly. Her golden, cross-adorned necklace never left her neck, and she clutched onto it for just a moment to ensure that it was still there. Without even grabbing shoes, Annabelle hoisted herself out through her window and made her way towards the house with a sense of eerie purpose.

    For the first time ever, Annabelle padded right up to the door of the house, feeling the wooden porch creak under her weight. The woman said a hushed prayer under her breath before gathering the courage she had been searching for so desperately. She meandered over to one of the windows that someone had since torn the boards off of and broken and crawled inside, the residual glass catching on her nightgown and creating a tear down the side. Annabelle tumbled into the house with a yelp, landing on to the dusty floor in a heap. She rose carefully, the darkness inside of the house seeming to consume her very being. She fumbled in her bag for the flashlight, taking it out and shining it anxiously in front of her with quivering hands.

    "Hello? I-Is someone here? ...Anyone?" Her voice seemed to echo ever so slightly. "I...I received th-this note." Annabelle was well aware that she was likely losing her mind and talking to absolutely no one, but she had to try. Something about this place had been calling her for far too long, and this little slip of paper felt like the invitation she had been waiting for.
     
  3. Quindaro

    Quindaro Wild Member Member

    Messages:
    29
    Local Time:
    12:22 PM
    As she would enter the house there was dead silence, everything that was small within the house was mostly gone due to the people taking what they wanted. The city wasn't going to completely vacate the rest of the house for a while yet. So inside remained the grand piano and a few of the couches. The darkness would dissipate within the beam of her flashlight. The darkness wasn't thick so to speak, but it had the air as if someone else... or rather something else was indeed here. Then if she shined her light upon the far door leading deeper into the house, the same Latin phrase could be found though this time it was a bit larger. In the middle of the circle was an empty cavity for a cross, fitting the same dimensions as the cross around her neck, but then there was another phrase, this time in English. 'To gain entry. One must give faith.'

    Upon further investigation there was also the faintest thrumming from behind the door, almost like that of a double bass.
     
  4. tackz

    tackz eraserhead baby Member

    Messages:
    20
    Local Time:
    10:22 AM
    The house was, unsurprisingly, pretty trashed and empty. Many people had passed through this building, that she was well aware of, but it surprised her to see the piano still in...somewhat decent condition. It was still standing, which was kind of a miracle with all the rambunctious, curious teenagers who entered. Wandering towards the instrument, Annabelle cautiously pressed down a couple of the keys, causing some painfully untuned notes to cut through the silence of the house. The sound, though she knew the source of it, sent an uncomfortable chill down her spine. Clutching the flashlight now with both hands, Annabelle proceeded deeper into the house, brows furrowed in anxious concentration.

    A door was revealed to her in the ghosting of light, the phrase on the door looking uncomfortably familiar. Dropping the light for just a moment, Annabelle fumbled through her bag with shaking hands, removing the paper to double check the lettering. She collected the flashlight, pointing a trembling beam towards the paper and then the door. She let it flutter to the ground, something telling her that she no longer had use for it at this point.

    "To gain entry...one must give faith." Her voice was nothing more than a cryptic whisper.

    She felt her heart drop to her stomach and dissolve in acid as she read the words over and over again to herself. Annabelle inched closer to the door, pressing her ear to it as she discovered the thrumming. This house had been calling to her... the unknown was gripping the very essence of her being. Sleepless nights flashed back to her, headaches from the sickeningly sweet smell of pastries, tunes that she had never heard before but could swear were familiar... it consumed her. A pale hand found the latch on the back of her necklace, unclipping it and feeling a strange cold sensation wash over her as it was pulled away from her body. There was a faint screaming in the back of her mind, begging Annabelle to stop, turn around, go home. She looked over her shoulder for a moment, as if someone might have been watching her, but there was no one waiting in the darkness to scold her or beg her to stop.

    She pressed the cross cautiously into the hole, noting how it fit in as if it was made to be there. The bag she had brought with slipped off her shoulder, landing with a slight thud onto the floor.
     
  5. Quindaro

    Quindaro Wild Member Member

    Messages:
    29
    Local Time:
    12:22 PM
    As the bag fell to the floor, the cross sank into the door. wedging in deeper as to not be pried out even if she were to take a crowbar to it. Then once sealed, the door had an audible *Click* as the knob turned by itself. The door slowly swung open revealing what was supposed to be the main dining area of the house. But it was larger it seemed from the outside as it defied physics within the room itself. The walls lined with what seemed to be endless amounts of books, chains adorning many as they sat comfortably on their shelves recently dusted. Around the room was various furniture, a couple rocking chairs and a few Purple lined sofas that had end tables lined in purple draping. The candles lit and a fireplace stoked, the room was fairly well lit as the crackling of the fireplace could be heard. The sound of the double bass seemed to be coming from down a few rows of bookshelves, down a hall, that shouldn't even be there based upon what the house's physical shape was, then there was the cut in of a quiet trumpet, saxophone, clarinet trio playing an old jazzy tune, as the sweet decadence could be nearly tasted through the nose.

    "Ah.. My guest has arrived!" A low but pleasant voice rang out, the same direction as the music. "Please do come in Annabelle!" The voice called out once more. Upon entering, the door would close and lock itself behind her. A slight breeze came by and she would find her bag hanging upon the hat rack, the note from before hanging loosely off the side. Then there was a platter in front of her with a quill and note "What would you wish to drink for the evening?" It read as it sat there waiting for her reply.
     
  6. tackz

    tackz eraserhead baby Member

    Messages:
    20
    Local Time:
    10:22 AM
    Annabelle entered cautiously, hands clasped in front of her as if it would protect her somehow. Something about this new room felt...magical? Was that the right word for it? Everything about the dining hall felt as though it didn't even belong in this house, like it was something from another dimension that had been transported here. She could feel a lump in her throat, a fear mingling with her curiosity. "What is this place?" She thought aloud, eyes roaming over the recently-dusted books and working fireplace. The music was somewhat soothing, careening sweetly from down the hall. Not a single note was played incorrectly or missed, it was a perfect tune. This was what she had been curious about, this was the part of the house that had been calling to her, she just knew. Though somewhat afraid, Annabelle felt that she had finally grasped what she had been searching for. The sound of someone speaking jerked Annabelle from her thoughts, and she looked around frantically for the source, but there was no one to be seen. It was the voice of a man, that much was certain, but his appearance was a complete mystery.

    "Um, h-hello?" She couldn't hide the trembling in her voice. The door behind her closed and locked, causing her to jump. There was no way out, but a part of her knew that when she placed her cross in the door. "You know my name...?" Another thought out loud, making her feel a little embarrassed. At the sound of rustling, Annabelle looked behind her to find her bag hung up with care on the hat rack, which was actually a pleasant surprise. When her gaze returned to the front, she found the quill and paper, staring back at her dauntingly. This wasn't church, this was....well, a cursed house. She was old enough to drink, sure, and she'd had wine a few times, but it was generally frowned upon for her to have alcohol. Something stirred within her, a need to rebel against her family and church. She was frustrated, angry that she'd been repressed through her childhood and into adulthood. She wasn't a girl, she was a god damn woman and she couldn't even order a drink of she so desired without being scolded. Grabbing the quill, she penned in a pretty, neat sort of cursive, 'vodka and soda'.
     
  7. Quindaro

    Quindaro Wild Member Member

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    29
    Local Time:
    12:22 PM
    After she wrote her drink of choice down, the note, impossibly unfolded to reveal a short note. "Thank you! Please enter the Velvet Lounge and Mr. Illius will be with you in a moment." The little piece of paper then rolled up and the platter closed upon the quill and letter before floating off down the hall. The silver glinted as it passed by the candles floating along at a good speed.

    The hall itself was adorned with a purple and gold theme as the wood floor under was a dark spruce, several parts of the hall had different interconnecting halls though there was only one sign that pointed down the hall that lead to the Velvet lounge. The space was cozy, as if holding the feeling of the holidays, even though it was the middle of summer. The jazzy tunes were a near consistent volume as it swelled and dove in and out, keeping near perfect time. The Velvet lounge looked like someone's personal speak-easy, a single large booth table on one side of the room in front of a small stage where the instruments were located, enchantments kept them playing their tune. Then off to the other side was where the small bar was located, a line of bar stools in front with Velvet and gold cushions as per the aesthetic. The wall behind the bar was a large lazy susan of liquors and mixers, hundreds of different kinds adorned the revolving rack. as then off to the right of that was the kitchen sill where the food would lay after being made in the kitchen, of which a fresh rack of sweet buns sat to cool, the frosting melted as it glistened in the candle light.

    The sound of water running could be heard before being cut off shortly after. The door to the kitchen swung open to reveal a tall (About 6'10") humanoid, his skin was a light shade of blue, he wore a white button up shirt that had gold lining, on the sleeves and cuffs, then a gradient purple to black vest adorned on top of his button up. His black pants and boots seemingly melded together. His face was angular but well fit, framed by his long hair that had been left out of the pony tail he had. Two horns curled down from the back of his head, several parts of them had been engraved and fit with gold rings. "Why hello Annabelle." He said giving her a small smirk as his gold irises looked into hers.
     
  8. tackz

    tackz eraserhead baby Member

    Messages:
    20
    Local Time:
    10:22 AM
    Annabelle let out a gasp as she watched the platter float away on it's own. The longer she spent here, the more she felt as if it was some sort of fever dream. From what she had been taught, magic wasn't even real. After checking her surroundings one last time, she decided that the only direction she could move was forward, so she proceeded with caution. She wrung her hands together, eyeing every bookshelf and candle she wandered deeper down the corridor. She came to a stop in front of the Velvet Lounge, which looked far too classy and beautiful to be a part of this busted house. Annabelle noticed that magic was the musician instead of a band, which wasn't too surprising. It had sounded all too perfect and flawless to have been played by a human.

    She continued to explore, moving around the room slowly and touching everything she could get her hands on. Nothing phased through her hand like a hologram, in fact, it was so real that she could decipher the different textures: the expensive, soft velvet and sleek bar counter. She took a moment to touch her own face, thinking that maybe, if she was dreaming, it would wake her. Smooth skin met her fingertips and she still found herself in the Velvet Lounge. She caught a whiff of the the fresh baked goods, realizing that everything about this place was beguiling. The sound of the water being turned off snapped her attention to the kitchen, where a most bizarre sight presented itself to her. Looking up, up, and up some more, Annabelle was met with what she could only describe as a demon.

    A look of terror appeared on her face, though she did not run. This...man was dressed particularly well, his vest and shirt looking expensive and wrinkle-free. She fiddled with a loose string of hair as her eyes wandered over his horns, which sealed the deal...this man was definitely a demon. She knew she had been sacrificing her entire belief system to enter, she knew this was what she had been craving, but Annabelle could not help the wave of anxiety that washed over her. Despite his inhuman complexion and startling size, Annabelle could not deny that the creature she was looking at was attractive, jaw sharp and eyes attentive. His voice was sweet like the smell of the cooling buns. She felt her stomach fill with butterflies unwillingly. "...Mr. Illius, I assume?" She attempted to sound composed, but her voice wavered slightly. His height alone was intimidating enough for the little woman. She extended a hand for him to take, feeling compelled to touch him to determine whether he was real or not. "I think...we've been meaning to meet for some time now."
     
  9. Quindaro

    Quindaro Wild Member Member

    Messages:
    29
    Local Time:
    12:22 PM
    His smirk turned to a full and gentle smile, seemingly betraying most of images that one such as Annabelle would have been raised of even thinking of from a demon. "You've got that right Annabelle." He responded to her as he looked upon her gesture of formality. He extended his hand and gently curled his fingers as he gave her a firm handshake, but not hard handshake. His skin was like silk, soft to the touch and warm. "Yes indeed. Kalagar Illius, keeper of Tomes and the Velvet Dream. Though my most recent guests have gone away, I've been noticing that for a while now you've been curiously investigating the house. Something deep inside wants answers to something." He said as he released her hand and picked up the rolled request.

    "An adventure that certainly seems to have taken a turn." He looked at her drink request and smiled, rolling his sleeves up and stepping behind the nice bar. He spun the massive lazy susan till he found the bottle he was looking for before he started to prepare her drink, producing a tall glass out from behind the bar and dropping in a small ice globe. Within the drink he used top-shelf vodka and soda that both appeared to be normal brands. Taking a very long spoon, he mixed her drink and slid it to the side as he prepared an old fashioned for himself. He put the globe ice within a wider shorter glass, mixing all of his ingredients, he peeled a curly orange zest off and dropped it in before taking a part of the peeled orange skin and wiped the rim of glass down before garnishing with a very sweet cocktail cherry.

    Once he finished he picked both glasses up and walked over to her once again. "So I imagine for such a curious one such as yourself, you have some questions you may want answered, if you care to sit with me, I can certainly answer a few of them." He gestured towards the large booth that came around like a horseshoe before starting over to it and taking a seat on one side. the cushions were soft and pillowy, like they'd been continually fluffed and never stiffened.