Love Lab for you madam, because you are a Yuru Yuri fan.
Your alignment is left-texted.
Why?
"Psst, you awake hun? ❤" INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x ] Sangria popped her head out from behind Morgiana, one of her favourite targets, business or not. The inebriation of the hall, she noted, was quickly getting stale, with the constant influx of downers. Sangria frowned, wondering why these Valen were so wasteful of their existences and never learned to lighten up as well as she did. It was unfortunate, she mused, that she did not bring any proper alcohol to start a little party beneath the dance of her long fingers, but the game would begin soon enough. Sangria was careful not to sneak her arms around the lazy little Valen. "Don't worry, hun. I'm out of all the good stuff, but tell you what, I'd love to make something named after you!" She giggled. "Think of it. The Morji." Sangria kissed her hand in prideful imitation. "A taste as flighty as a bird, bitter to the core but leaves a lasting imprint on the soul. Makes any fellow who downs it in a shot ready to rest the rest of their night away. I can see it now, hun. You'd be famous. ❤" Sangria grinned menacingly behind Morji, and-- ACK- INTOXICATION [ x ] One of her bottles, out of nowhere, came sailing past Morgiana, grazing her ear and striking Sangria straight in the face. She burst backward as if hit by a missile, collapsing into the wall behind the chair and sharply hitting her head. "WHO DID THAT?!" Her speech was, for a split second, dry, bitter, and immensely sobering. INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x ] Real fools, some of these Valen were! She regained her composure, breathing. "You aren't hurt, are you, dear? ❤" She teasingly asked Morgiana, picking up the bottle from the ground. As it was plastic and empty, it thankfully did not do very much damage at all. She traced its path back to a giant beefcake slumped on the floor. "Oh," Sangria said, a bit breathlessly but nonchalantly. "I never knew these things could deflect off of piles of meat. The more you know, huh, dear?"
I, Gotterdammerung, watched as Mimi-mistress absentmindedly observed the proliferation and arrival of a handful of the other immortal individuals. Though they all stood mightier than I, Gotterdammerung, I knew personally that my Mimi-mistress was always very cautious of them. She feigned it, and as a master of puppets such as the exquisitely crafted and intricate Gotterdammerung who speaks to you, she was very good at it, and treated them no more than whenever she needed them to exist in her mind. I, Gotterdammerung, would occasionally be unsure if this was intentional on her part, or her maximized mental capacity only registered a certain degree of the world when it was in her relevant interest. I, Gotterdammerung, considered the Benevolent Sorceress to be one of the few exceptions to this rule, if it were a rule in the first place. It was a nature of my existence to, from time to time, question the rules that were set in place by my almighty Mimi-mistress, and these rules seemed to change as much as the conscience of my mistress herself. But it was arguably in my very construction that my benevolent mistress allowed this capacity in my consciousness when giving life to my parts. As for this reason, my mistress paid little attention to the other immortals entering, so to was my capacity to observe them diminished, due to my mistress' fixation on Daphne and the internal thoughts of my mistress alone. . . . I, Gotterdammerung, agree with the observation made by my almighty mistress. I watch as she casually looks around at the new arrivals, before turning back to Daphne. . . . Mm. Bear? Is that so? I, Gotterdammerung, have the desire to disagree at my mistress' thought, but this disagreement is only weak in nature due to the overpowering consciousness of my Mimi-mistress. It appears that the immortals here are indeed livelier than they should be, but I, Gotterdammerung, am unsure if this is necessarily a positive thing. I have, with my Mimi-mistress, had the pleasure of travelling across many lands, and I have found the nature of the immortals is heavily skewed or constant towards a sensation that I, Gotterdammerung, find highly unpleasant. . . . I understand. I, Gotterdammerung, will make sure that the Benevolent Sorceress understands the words of my mistress well enough. - - - - - It is of course I that always feels the deepest connection with my mistress. "Of course! I appreciate your concern, Mimi!" Her voice lowered. "But, if... something were to happen, I would really, really, really miss your amazing and cute dolls! I would also... really miss your company, as well... because, you know, we are friendsand all..." Immediately her tone picked up and she was back to her bubbly self, shaking herself slightly. "But enough of all that sad stuff! Despite these games, I'm really glad to see you again!" I, Gotterdammerung, feel the thoughts of my mistress flow through me. Mimi-mistress shares the gladness that emanates through your body very well, and as her most trusted and loyal, nearly-perfectly crafted doll, I, Gotterdammerung, also share in the happiness and warmth that the presence of Daphne gives both my mistress and I. Despite these words, I see my Mimi-mistress looking slightly away from the Benevolent Sorceress. She had taken a black licorice lollipop out from the confines of her woolen jacket and continued to suck it while staring flat-faced at the immortals who slowly filled the room. The noise of laughter, talking, and the burning stench of alcohol picked up slightly. I prod my mistress to look towards the direction of Daphne. Although she briefly shoos me, she returns to the gaze of the Benevolent Sorceress, a quiet look on her face. I, Gotterdammerung, feel the thoughts of my mistress flowing through me. ... Mimi-mistress has made some careful observations, I have observed, and she reiterates the reason why she enjoys the company of the Benevolent Sorceress. -- Excuse me for a second. I turn to my mistress. Mistress whispers something in my thoughts, careful and quaint, before turning back towards the door. I, Gotterdammerung, watch this with a mix of amusement and surprise, as it is unlike my mistress to be this distracted when with her friends. Thank you for your time, Benevolent Sorceress. Mimi-mistress cares about you deeply because she considers you unique and dear to her heart. My mistress is happy that an immortal such as yourself is able to keep her sweetness and kind nature among all that goes around in the world that I, Gotterdammerung, find myself in, among all of you. She is happy that someone such as yourself exists in this world, and has the ability to continue to exist among the world. My mistress takes out the black licorice lollipop from her mouth, and briefly moves her head towards the direction of the other immortals. I, Gotterdammerung, believe and understand exactly what my mistress is attempting to imply. Mimi-mistress hopes that, in time, they could meet in better conditions. There is, she is observantly musing, no other better bakery than that which Daphne produces, but at the same time, she believes that a true friendship between immortals is a rare bond that goes beyond the mere proliferation of the goods that I, Gotterdammerung, come to observe.-- I see my Mimi-mistress take out her black licorice lollipop again. ... Bear. }} What does my Mimi-mistress desire? My mistress gently tugs at one of my soft plush arms. It appears my Mimi-mistress has made a rare direct verbal command. This appears to be a matter of importance. I, Gotterdammerung, temporarily turn away from the Benevolent Sorceress, so that I may understand the needs of my mistress. But this is unnecessary. She instead walks over to the Benevolent Sorceress, taking a peach-and-cherry flavoured sweet from her woolen coat pocket, and tenderly grabs the Benevolent Sorceress' hands with her own, placing the sweet in her palms. I, Gotterdammerung, observe as my mistress smiles childishly. ... Try. Eat! }} It appears my mistress has benevolently handed the Benevolent Sorceress one of her own sweets. I, Gotterdammerung, assure you that this is indeed a rare event, so please take it into deep consideration, immortal. My mistress rarely gave out her own sweets, but she did so in times of rare altruism. She is truly the greatest mistress. I attempt to continue my spiel, but I feel a much deeper drop in the concentration connection between myself and my mistress. I look towards her, and see her fixated on the collapse of a large immortal, Who appears to have been struck in the head with one of the bottles of alcohol that an immortal my Mimi-mistress finds particularly vexatious has brought into the chamber. My mistress turns to the Benevolent Sorceress and points at the muscular immortal crumpled on the ground. My mistress asks for the help of her dear friend. I, Gotterdammerung, request that you may follow her in the interim. - - - - - I, Gotterdammerung, quickly followed my Mimi-mistress as she slinked over to the man wincing in pain in the middle of the room. Compared to my mistress, this man was a good many feet taller and wider than her small frame, but I, Gotterdammerung, as my Mimi-mistress' most loyal and grateful servant, knew my Mimi-mistress to be the greatest mistress in the world, and that immortals did not determine their powers by size alone. My mistress knelt down by the large man and looked at him carefully, all while sucking the black licorice lollipop. I, meanwhile, deftly moved to the side of my mistress. Due to my fixation, I was unsure if the Benvolent Sorceress was following us just yet. I, Gotterdammerung, had enough experience with my Mimi-mistress' powers, in our many travels around the world of the immortals, to understand what she may be planning to do. As I felt her rise, taking the lollipop out of her mouth, I mused on how this scene had played out many times in the past. . . . Magnus? Was this the name of the immortal? I, Gotterdammerung, with my limited capacity that expanded only in the connection to my Mimi-mistress, was uncertain, but as the thoughts and memories of Mimi-mistress expanded my own mental consciousness at the whims of her doing, her reality that this man was Magnus soon became my concrete reality. This particular immortal, which I, Gotterdammerung, observed to have rippling muscles and torn clothing all about him, was indeed the immortal named Magnus. I noticed my mistress running deeply through her mind, before collecting a few scraps of cloth in her hands. She curled them up in her fists, squishing them together, and a sparkling burst of silver light popped from the spaces between her fingers. I, Gotterdammerung, looked on carefully as my Mimi-mistress once again gave life to one of her dolls. This particular doll was a simple one, I noticed, as it consisted only of an autonomous orb of torn and shredded clothing that floated close to my mistress, moving along at her whim. It bobbed weakly in the air, limited by the aura of negation that filled the castle and gave myself a persistent headache. . . . Bear. Ah, that was right. She required the efforts of the Benevolent Sorceress, if she would be able to arrive. I looked back at the Sorceress, waiting. Although, I judged, this man needed no real healing, my Mimi-mistress believed that there would be a positive benefit towards maximizing the potential of the Benevolent Sorceress' famed powers. But I, Gotterdammerung, felt another, deeper reason towards her actions. I believed that she knew well enough he required only a slight bit of healing from that particular bottle, and there were times even I, her most loyal and faithful servant, Gotterdammerung, did not have as deep as a connection to penetrate the many barriers that my Mimi-mistress placed in her mind. So all it was, she did, was carefully look upon the beefy immortal, lying on her knees, sucking the black licorice lollipop. I, Gotterdammerung, notice that the concept of time is alien to a majority of immortals. Although I once remembered my birth clearly, it has become hazy to my memories, perhaps due to the influence of my mistress, unintentional or not. Regardless, the memory of the birth of I, Gotterdammerung, has for now, been lost to my own personal consciousness, either trapped behind the barriers of my mistress' mind, or lost to history forever. But this is where time comes into place, for I, as a doll, bear little to no sense of time. This, from my travels with Mimi-mistress, appears to be a consistent thought that every immortal who is natural-born in the sky world to believe. Time does not exist in this world, and from the limited memory of I, Gotterdammerung, it can be assumed that time has never existed, nor has required the necessity to exist. Why is it, then, that I, Gotterdammerung, the most loyal and closest doll to my almighty Mimi-mistress, take an attempt to understand the concept of time? It is because my Mimi-mistress, in our mental connections and exchange of thoughts, has occasionally made thoughts in terms of time. They are small, but they still linger to the point where I question my mistress on the very concept, believing "time" to be unnecessary and useless, but she serves to re-direct the conversation towards sweets. The reason that I, Gotterdammerung, bring this notion of "time" up, is because of its connection with the memories that I, Gotterdammerung, have experienced. Although the concept of time is not hardwired into my existence, it occasionally feels at times that its slow diffusion of understanding and awareness comes into play when I am closely connected with my mistress. For this reason, I do recall an event that occurred in the sequence of time we understand to simply be the past. Much of immortal time is divided into the basic concepts of past, present, and future, but with the proliferation of powers, I, Gotterdammerung, believe the present to be the only thing to exist at any time, as the past can easily be manipulated by other Immortals through various means, whether memory or neural manipulation, and the future shall never exist but in the thoughts of I. Time is irrelevant when one is immortal, I have come to believe. In the past as I, Gotterdammerung, can remember, when the life of I was very young, we came upon, in our travels, an ailing damned old man who lay at a temporal crossroads between the lands Seyyador and Phantasmagoria. It was here that my Mimi-mistress exhibited one of the first uses of her powers that I, Gotterdammerung, bore a clear memory of, where she formed hair-width sized dolls of her control hewn from the mud, using them to help clean and tend to a laceration on the damned old man's leg. Although my mistress offered to help carry his goods to Phantasmagoria, he refused and went on his way, and the small reparation dolls faded into dust. As those dolls faded to dust, so too would the orb of cloth that bore no individual conscience except Mimi-mistress' own, once its use was finished. My mistress, the kind heart that she was, did not enjoy seeing her creations go to the winds, especially those with more autonomous thoughts. It was in this particular instance that I would question why I came to exist, as my memory has become hazy, and time is an alien concept to I, Gotterdammerung. I serve beneath my benevolent mistress and would wish for it no other way, but I question why this goddess birthed unto me the sensation of autonomous thought, and if I would eventually disappear like the many other dolls when my use was finished as well. Though other autonomous dolls exist in the command of my mistress -- indeed, all of Nibelung is filled with semi-autonomous dolls that appear to only think and live when an immortal views them directly -- I wonder why my existence is the one that my mistress keeps by her side. But of this, I am thankful, as she watches over me.
_ Locked on Request.
INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x x x ] Sangria frowned momentarily at Ursa's response. Ah, she didn't expect very much in regards to her invitation from this charming young friend. She understood well enough, that many of these immortals enjoyed keeping to themselves. For a while, at least. ❤ Ehehe. She smirked as the this warming ice queen accepted her little gift. ~ Sangria smiled. Another one takes the cake. At this point, the doppelganger wandering around felt unstable. Sangria turned back to the little friend, highly interested that her attempt to uncover an identity met with startling resistance. Now now, even she couldn't resist a kiss from herself, could she? ❤ This immortal in particular must be a particularly defensive one-- She heard the cold girl call out the name of Prism. Oh, was it the boy she gave that remaining bottle to? Immediately, a familiar face walked over to her, addressing both the doppelganger and herself. "You, well--" She began, looking at forest boy, smirking. "I am surprised to see you here, Johnis." She tapped the bottle on the end of her finger. "I hope this will not interfere with your shipment of oak caskets for the Merlot?" She frowned. "This ... game, I mean." She was amused that nature boy made it here as well, but she kept it hidden. More allies. As usual, her tone turned a tad more businesslike, but she did not hesitate to offer some of the vodka to her friend. "Don't be shy! Thank your beautiful Coordinator over there for being able to host such a party even I envy despite looking sour-faced as a lime mojito. ❤" The doppelganger mumbled a few words, walking around. Sangria turned to look back, and turned back to Johnis. "It's not a drinking hallucination, hun. ❤ It appears a certain Valen here found pleasure in imitating our almighty brewmistress. Not that I would blame them!" She closed her eyes and smirked playfully, throwing her her hair back before raising her voice towards the doppelganger. "Silly me. ❤" Sangria called out, sticking out her tongue and tapping herself on the head with her bottle. "Is that you, boy? Sometimes I cannot help myself when these things dull my own senses, you see. Ufufu, and one would think it would help someone see through to the truth, no?" She held up her plastic bottle and gazed through at the weakening doppelganger. She had rarely conversed with Prism, though she well enough knew that his power was famous in the rounds for its impeccable capturing of reflections. How silly of her to not even consider! "If that is you," She began, looking through the rest of the room, gazing at the others entering around this time. Oh, was the thief all fired and ready from his all-night table-dancing with her precious butlers? She popped her lips absentmindedly, gazing at the potential competition for this little game. "If that is you," She repeated, "It would be sweet if your little power provided us with a little ... entertainment, down by my district. You're perfect for something like that, boy. ❤" Oh? At the very end, storming in with an air of seriousness, came the staunch-faced speedster, gazing around without a glint of amazement in his eye. She clicked her teeth gently together and put down her bottle-telescope, turning to Ursa. "If you'll excuse me, hun. ❤ Enjoy your time with the biological witch. A brewmistress must serve her most ... dedicated customers. It's all in the business." She winked at Johnis, hoping he would understand, stood up and smiled, before twirling behind and walking over to Darren. "Now now, friend," She began, gazing at Darren carefully and resting her chin on her hand. "You're a bit too late, I'm afraid. ❤ Out of stock, hun. Don't look so saaad about it!" Sangria made an imitation pout. Ah, she could probably imitate this bozo better than the doppelganger boy, she mused! "There there, dear. It's good to let loose before a big game, I understand. Tell you what!" She stood on her tiptoes, her eyes shining menacingly, as she reached over to his ear. "Share the remaining drink with our new Coordinator, will you, hun? She's flowing in popularity right now, the little doll. ❤ I think another offer of alcohol would do her well to deal with it all, don't you think?" Her whispers were quiet and stark, caked with both a genuine sense of concern and feigned malevolence. Sangria giggled, like bubbling champagne, but it was broken up by a quick hiccup.
INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x ] What was that? Sangria immediately frowned and looked around. She swore she heard a whisper in her ear. INTOXICATION [ x x x x x ] Was one of these out-stepping immortals trying to play a trick on her? Ah ... how dare they. Sangria became quiet, and looked around, before briefly staring into her bott--ack. That!! That was-- aaagh! Something tugged at her nose! She looked carefully and saw only her own reflection. There appeared to be some trickery going on here-- Ah, lord. She took a swig of the vodka she offered to Ursa. INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x x x ] That's better. ❤ "It's rather daring of someone to directly confront a Valen like this right before the game. ❤" She called out to nobody in particular, shaking the vodka in her bottle a bit. She turned back to Ursa, but kept her defenses up. Did she go too far with her little speech, then? Nonsense, nonsense, Sangria. You had these immortals in the very end of your glass, didn't you? She turned and-- Her eyes widened. Right in front of her was a complete duplicate of herself. She felt a jolt of shock run through her spine. What kind of mockery was this? She sighed and took off her sunglasses, looking at the doppelganger. The other did the same. "Well then," She mused, smirking a bit. She slowly twirled around the weak vodka in her hidden hand, turning it a dim pale green. "I have to say. I've never seen such a pretty looking lady in my life! ❤" "Wouldn't you agree, Ursa? I think I'm in looove. ❤" She took a sip of the weakened absinthe and looked the doppelganger in the eye. Ah. Sangria leaned forward and quickly clasped her hands on the doppelganger's shoulder. She brought a finger to her doppelganger's cheek, twirling a single strand of the crimson hair that would be her own. She leaned in gently and placed a soft kiss directly on the lips of her doppelganger, leaving the dizzy taste of absinthe on her lips, letting the tip of her nose touch the mirror of her own. Sangria slowly retreated. "Oho! We have a wonderful imitation here, don't we? Impeccably accurate." She wiped her lips free of the alcohol. "If only I knew the identity of this here dear who brings herself to figure such entertainment and pleasure in the world. ❤"
INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x ] Sangria giggled. This biological witch was a silly one! Getting her own state of mind ruined like that without her needed intervention, not that she planned to do this so early in the game. She stood up from her chair and looked at Kuru, gently waving a hand over her forehead. "I'm quite sorry you had to go and do that to yourself, hun, but it goes to show that you must be careful with secrets. ❤" She lowered her hand. "This bloody castle is a real drain on powers, but hopefully I've numbed enough of your sense of pain so you'll be able to walk back to your seat, dear. It appears our sweet little popsicle will be starting her game soon. ~" She turned back to Marina and smiled, putting her sunglasses back on. Of course, of course! Fresh-meat always seemed so defensive. It was delicious. Sangria loved a challenge, but everything would come in time, wouldn't it? She knelt close to Marina's ear, much too close for comfort, allowing the scent of sweet wine to trail upon the side of her face. And with a giggle, she whispered in her ear. "Watch your back, friend. Your mortal concepts of immortality are different from its reality. Do not put this much faith in your defensive barriers." She retreated, her glasses askew, as she adjusted them slightly. Sangria let out a quick hiccup. Oh! Oop. She gazed around. In her time, a few others had arrived to join the party. Ohoho, how pleasant! ❤ Sangria picked up the plastic bottle of weak vodka and walked towards the front of the congregation, taking care not to block Marina's view. "It is nice of you all to be here," She called out to the crowd, raising her bottle. "A real party we have, don't we? It is sweet to see some familiar faces again, even the ones whom I rarely see myself." She gazed at a few particular ones in the crowd. "None of you lovelies possess a drink in hand, for I expected enough only for myself, and my altruism was by chance. ❤" "So instead, I propose a toast in spirit --" Sangria giggled aside at her little pun ""-- To our lovely coordinator Marina, whom I hope will integrate wonderfully in the ... new world, that she finds herself. And a toast to all of you little lovelies, who have gained the courage to come here. I trust we will all respect her in our little game. Isn't that right, Marina?" She turned to Marina and smiled, before lowering her bottle and walking to the side. She took a swig from the bottle of vodka and gently rotated her finger in the air to increase its potency, before taking a quick seat besides one of the unfamiliar faces. "I have never seen you at my parties, hun." Sangria offered the bottle of vodka to Ursa. "There is no reason to be suspicious, dear. ❤ I am not looking to get anybody drunk on my own volition, and I do believe the nature of this particular drink suits you, wouldn't you say?" She yawned. "Business is a world of cheating, but I play fairly in a cheating world." Sangria let out another snicker.
I, Gotterdammerung, watched as Mimi-mistress turned her head towards the familiar voice of the Benevolent Sorceress. If I, Gotterdammerung, possessed emotions, I would be certain that I would be as happy as Mimi-mistress looked to be at this very moment. I, Gotterdammerung, understood that Mimi-mistress was not necessarily the type of mistress who very much enjoyed emoting towards others, preferring instead the company of such dolls as I. It is for that reason that I, Gotterdammerung, had helped lead my Mimi-mistress to the large gold and silver hall which lay in one of Aether's static planes, and I, Gotterdammerung, Mimi-mistress' most faithful and loyal servant, without flaws and without measure but those deemed as such by my Mimi-mistress, pride myself on the efforts undertaken to bring my mistress to where she needs to go without being noticed. But as I have observed numerous times before, it appears that my Mimi-mistress possesses something that the immortal masters and mistresses refer to as "friendship" between herself and the Benevolent Sorceress. At first, upon my Mimi-mistress and I meeting this positively peppy lady, I, Gotterdammerung, assumed that the friendship my Mimi-mistress possessed with this particular individual was simply a method to acquire her famed sweets. It later became, as I noted, a method of the expansion of further Coppélia. I, Gotterdammerung, considered my Mimi-mistress very crafty, until it turned out that my very suspicions were incorrectly calculated, and through the emotional and rational connection that I possessed with my Mimi-mistress, it appeared that this situation was an instance of the phenomenon that I had deftly classified as "friendship". Unfortunately, it was rare among these immortals, who my Mimi-mistress deemed slightly untrustworthy. Or perhaps, this was simply the conclusion of I. At times, I, Gotterdammerung, have established a connection so deep that it is extremely hard to differentiate between my own thoughts and those of my Mimi-mistress. Is that Daphne? I want to talk to her! <3 I, Gotterdammerung, understand the request of my Mimi-mistress, and proceed to initiate in conversation with the Benevolent Sorceress, the "friend" of Mimi-mistress. - - - - - It is of course I that always feels the deepest connection with my mistress. "How've you two been? It's been a while since we've seen each other! I've missed you guys! I've been meaning to visit but I always get distracted with baking and redesigning, surely you understand! But I promise that I'll come over soon, okay? Oh... oh, or maybe you could even come and visit me and we could bake together!!" I, Gotterdammerung, feel the thoughts of my mistress flow through me. Mimi-mistress is extremely happy to see you again, Daphne! She completely understands, as mistress has also been distracted by her own plans and efforts. However, Mimi-mistress believes that a situation such as this will allow yourself and my mistress to bond further. Behind me, my mistress nods in agreement, smiling. I note that it is always very rare to not see my mistress smile. She is truly the best mistress. Mimi-mistress believes that they should definitely bake something together when the time arrives. My mistress has traveled with her loyal companion, Gotterdammerung, to a number of different lands in Aether attempting to discover the best type of sweet. However, Mimi-mistress believes that they will only have a chance to do so if they are both able to successfully complete the game. I turn to my mistress. Surely she is not implying what she is, about the past? Mimi-mistress reminds Daphne, with a smile, that she does not want her friend hurt or losing her land, that my mistress considers the purest and kindest of all lands among those she has wandered with myself, Gotterdammerung, in Aether, under the pretense of this particular game. Mimi-mistress enjoys games, but not when the conclusion of these games means less sweets for her. Mimi-mistress hopes that her friend understands. - - - - -
Describe the living conditions of as many groups of people as you can all across Midheaven.
INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x ] Sangria perked her ears up upon hearing the familiar sounds of Kuru taking her little alcoholic swig. She looked away from Marina, smiling to herself. Kuru somehow intoxicated herself to the point of complete relaxation. Ah, very good. ❤ Pleasure was in pleasure being, after all. She turned towards Kuru as the biological witch moved her way towards Sangria. She knew how to deal with these folks. Kuru asked her, almost jokingly, for the wine recipe. She wrapped an arm around Sangria, and Sangria felt the tension flowing from her body. Sangria turned around and stared at Kuru directly in the eyes. What a pretty lady, this one was! Sangria snickered as she subtly moved her finger in a circle, ever so slightly increasing the potency of the wine. She then moved her lips closer to Kuru's ear, almost touching the end. "It's a secret, my little sweetie." Sangria giggled, but this time a bit more menacingly. "We all need to keep some secrets, don't we now? ❤" She placed an arm around Kuru. "Now, now, hun ..." Her other hand, tapping on the end of Marina's bottle, slowly generated a rhythmic beat. Sangria darted her eyes around. A few others were coming. Through the arm around Kuru, she began to dampen her senses ever so slightly -- the most she could do here. Not to any major effect, but simply to ease her, if not make her a bit dizzy. "Do you have a little word to say to our dear, dear Coordinator here?" She lifted away her shoulder and tenderly stroked Kuru's cheek. "She needs aaaall the help she can get, you know. Wouldn't you agree? ❤" Sangria smiled. Things were working out well, it seemed. ~
INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x ] How long had it been? Sangria gazed at her latest masterpiece of artistic pleasure. She rested her chin at the counter behind the dim bar, letting her slender arms dangle and her gaze wander to the war-torn remnants of last night's party. Tables strewn across like carpets on a rug. Piles of rolling bottles, scattered, broken in places, releasing bloody oceans of dried wine and absinthe and blackened stout that formed measly puddles on the cherry hardwood and glinted menacingly in the warm twilight. The scent of gunpowder mingled with the taste of joy and ecstasy, and a vapour of dizziness floated over the passed out Valens strewn among her sleeping butlers and handmaidens. They barricaded the edges of the seats, sat upon the tables, and yet even some decided to pile up on the floor, empty martini glasses dangling from their fingers. The atmosphere was thick with the respite of entertainment and the decay of a feathery, fleeting enjoyment that Sangria tasted in the winds, and the lamps above continued their periodic, endless flickering, guarding the denizens below in a play of light and shadow. How delightful. ❤ Sangria smiled and slowly raised herself off of the bar counter, rising to her full height to gaze dimly at the boundaries of the creaky old Damn Old Man, still quaint and roomy as she dreamed her newest alcoholic establishment to be. Sangria rubbed her eyes and gently cleared a lock of crimson hair out of her face. Ah ... she wondered if these friends were able to handle everything. It would be terrible, Sangria mused, if they decided that they couldn't handle a little bit of drink, could they? She sighed and raised her hand, only just barely twitching the ends of her fingers. There we go. That should do it. Those lovelies should have enough feeling in their bodies now. ❤ She walked away from the counter and reached a small mahogany desk hidden in the corner, far away from the calamitous celebrations of hours before. Hm. Was there a leftover glass here? Ah. There we go. She picked up a small crystal tumbler lying on its side by the wall and brought it close to her face. Mhmhm. This would be a problem ... they might be out of alcohol soon. She stopped and darted her eyes around. The next brew wouldn't be ready for a while if they wanted to reach the quality target. Ah! As usual. She sighed again and snapped her fingers. Slowly, some of the water vapour in the air condensed in her glass, and with a stroke of her thumb along the edge of the water line, the liquid turned a deep crimson. Sangria smiled to herself and took a quick swig of it, letting the tart sweetness flow through her throat. Hm. She paused, before snapping her fingers. Immediately, a handmaiden, her black-and-white uniform torn and her red veil slightly askew, woke from her slumber by in the arms of a headbanded Valen lad and sprung into action, scuttling towards Sangria. She stopped and stood in front of her, at attention, as Sangria carefully observed her entire being. "You're in shambles, my dear." "Please excuse me, brewmistress," She quickly attempted to readjust her veil, but Sangria gently touched her hands with her own. "No need, hun. ❤ Just enjoy the moment, will you? You're all much too stressed for your own good." She briefly looked back to her glass. "Taste this for me, would you?" The handmaiden complied, releasing her hands from Sangria's touch, and grasping the tumbler in her hands. With a masterful dexterity, she took a quick swig and downed the entire drink. Sangria chuckled to herself and intently stared the entire way. "Thoughts?" The handmaiden paused, thinking deeply. "Very ... strong. I-- my legs feel a bit unsteady--" Ahahaha! Sangria laughed and clasped the handmaiden by the shoulder. "Just what I wanted to hear, hun! ❤ " She brought her face close to the handmaiden's red veil, smelling the alcohol and quietly analyzing the taste. "Tell me what it tastes like." "Bittersweet." "Bittersweet?" The handmaiden paused. "It might have great selling potential." Sangria released her grip on the handmaiden and twirled around to sit on the small table in the corner. She raised her legs, letting one of her heels fall to the ground. "It is the taste of ecstasy, hun. Of being sans inhibitions. These Valens know a good party then it hits them, right? ❤" The handmaiden nodded. "It is very strong, brewmistress." "Oh, it is. It is." Sangria nodded, licking her lips and briefly closing her eyes, raising her head towards the dim wooden ceiling. "Tell me," She began. "I hope that these immortals did not get too painful in their partying?" "No, brewmistress," the handmaiden replied. "There were a few who helped kept things under control in particular." Mmm. "Oh? ❤" "Yes. While-- while you were out managing the brew caskets." "Very good." The handmaiden bowed deeply. Sangria, her eyes still closed, posing like a leaning flamingo, twirled her fingers around, letting the water vapour of the air condense in the handmaiden's glass before once again turning a deep crimson. "Please use this to bring the others back to their senses. We must clear out our newest establishment, after all." "If I may ask, brewmistress." Sangria was quiet, deep in her inebriated contemplation. "Well," the handmaiden asked. "You have already tried sharpening their senses with your own powers?" Sangria opened her eyes and leaped delicately off the table, placing her foot back in her low heel. She smiled quietly and walked closer to the handmaiden. Was she a new one? She hadn't yet had the time to know her name. Shame ... shame ... "My dear ..." Sangria curled a finger around a lock of the handmaiden's hair, taking her glass in her hand and refilling it with the crimson wine. "Drink up. You needn't worry about my personal power convictions. Hehe. ❤" The handmaiden stared quietly at Sangria, tense but without any explicit resistance, as if near a direct relative whom one was distant to. Sangria giggled and helped adjust the handmaiden's veil, before strutting off in the other direction. But she paused midway through the door, before turning around. Mmm ... "Hun, it wouldn't be a bother if you collected a few old plastic bottles for me, would it?" INTOXICATION [ x x x x x x x x ] This was the place, was it? How grandiose. Aaaah ... Behind her stood two black-dressed butlers, their faces covered with white veils, and the same red-veiled handmaiden from before. She snapped her fingers, and the trio moved to the door, opening it gently. Sangria swayed her legs forward and virtually danced forward into the hall, carrying her purse close to her and observing the cold silver light filtering from the far reaches of the hall. She frowned and looked at the congregation that had already taken their seats, her gaze careful from behind her black circular sunglasses. What a boring crowd! ❤ They looked frown-faced and nervous, the lot of them. Some immortals just never understood, did they? She snapped her fingers and her three employees scuttled out of the hall, closing it behind them. Sangria's heels clicked loudly on the speckled marble, and- Oh! At the very end, she the new face by Asterion. Sangria smiled and sat next to her prey. The future coordinator. Marina. Sangria tasted the name like a savoury whiskey. "So you are the one who recently achieved immortality, is it?" She began, taking three or four bottles of water out of her purse and placed them gently on a nearby table. "It is a shame you have to come here. It has been a while, but everyone here doesn't know a good time when they see one, hun. ❤" She flicked her wrist and the first bottle of water turned into a pale rose. She grabbed it and uncapped the top, sipping it tenderly, before quietly placing it down. "Tastes like water. I'm not surprised that I can't form a good brew when all this dirty negation is fucking everything up, huh? Try a little, will you? You look tense as a board, dear." She flicked her wrist and the second bottle of water turned into an even paler rose liquid, giving it to Marina. Sangria looked towards one of the individuals -- the biological witch, if her memory was right -- and rolled her first bottle near the part of the room she was standing by, winking and returning back to Marina. "I made it extra weak just for you. We don't want our coordinator ... shall we say, keeling over, do we? Hehe. ❤" She winked and leaned back in the chair, taking off her sunglasses and holding the frames to her scarlet lips. "Not like I have a chance to make anything that strong here anyway ... and you folks needed water, right hun?" She continued to look at Marina. "You're a special one. You allowed yourself to exist." Sangria flicked her wrist and the third bottle of water transmogrified into a pale whiskey. She looked up at the man on the other side of Marina -- Asterion, was that his name? -- and winked at him, tossing the newly-brewed bottle his way. "Be my guest, you big lug." She turned back to Marina. "It takes quite a bit of willpower to achieve that, hun. I expect delicious things from such a lovely-looking fresh-meat coordinator. Ah ... it almost hurts to say I couldn't see you in action through my own pawns!" She giggled. "But then I wouldn't be able to pursue my own enterprises. We Valens do have lives, you know." She took another swig of the weak wine. "It's why we decide to play games like these. God can only divide paradise in a certain way, you know. Beats me if I knew the reason why, hun.❤" She took the fourth and final bottle and snapped her fingers. The drink did not change colour, but she uncapped it and took a deep whiff. The bitter tartness stung at her nose. Sangria placed the bottle in front of Marina, next to the weak rosy wine. "Still weak, but you might like vodka instead. You'll definitely need something strong and sensory-depriving to survive in this cut-throat place, dear. ❤" She took back the rosy bottle and gazed at the lad sitting at the farthest end, away from the others. "You look the most tense, boy." She walked over to him, keeping her distance, and placed it next to his feet before returning to Marina. What was his name again? She actually did not remember. How strange. Maybe she had too much to drink, but some Valen were famous for being able to hide their identities. She sat and waited, mimicking Asterion's question. "Don't tell me you're nervous about this little game, are you?"
You underestimate Amaury's power. He is a forum panopticon who can notice the infinitesimal movement of even a single atom anywhere on the forum in a split-second. He is the staff energy source.
I am the latest version. Anyhow, I am glad you were able to solve your problem, friend! Now you can rejoin us in safety and partying.
Well of course. We do not want our dear members slitting each others' throats in animalistic Soviet competition.
I do not recall the exact reason, but it might have something to do with either the OS or the computer's internal configuration. I had a similar issue a few weeks ago and the like.
Try.
You have to downgrade to the previous version of Skype. When you do so, turn off automatic updates in the Options section.
Mellowing out in the sense usually requires something that is either jazzy, orchestral, or downtempo. The best combination for myself usually consists of a combination of these, and jazzy downtempo is the best music I listen to when I wish to concentrate or simply relax at home.
