[not as much action as he'd like] practicing swordsplay

[airshipswank]

[ The issue is plain and simple. There is no video transmission, no audio and no text.

There are about 60 people in Wonderland. This new mansion has only about 15 rooms.

Consequently there are currently about three people who will soon find themselves rather annoyed that somebody has been occupying the bathroom since all but the first moment of this event.

(Although unless somebody else joins him right then and there he is bound to be encountered in the hallways at some point, looking for... company. The voices in his head make excellent suggestions, after all, but there are only so many of them he can execute on his own.)

(OOC: The spots for Buckingham's roommates aren't taken, so grab them if you like. He'll be wandering the hotel later for ~interaction opportunities~ interaction opportunities, so grab him if you like. Commenters be warned that there is a decent chance he will hit on anything that has legs.)]

Comments

[thestormcomes]

There is one man in this feeding frenzy of sexual arousal who is all but immune to the effects (for now, at least), and that man is a ginger-haired musketeer with a scruffy chin and a sullen disposition. Athos cannot be blamed - after all, his crazy wife scarred him something fierce - but there are times when he still desires human contact, enough to find himself wandering the halls of this ludicrously-decorated establishment.

Dwelling in his thoughts more than the moment, it could hardly come as a surprise should he accidentally-but-seriously-not-at-all-on-purpose run into his least favorite person in Wonderland, Lord Fuckingham Buckingham, almost spilling his drink* in the process.

"Watch where you're goi- Oh."

Athos mumbles flatly.

"It's you."



*My God did you honestly think he'd leave his room without alcohol on a day like this when voices are telling him to shove his you-know-what into someone?

[airshipswank]

Wandering the halls of this fascinatingly-decorated establishment Buckingham finds himself of two minds: One part of him that seeks more wholesome distractions in order to come to terms with his all but Puritan exile away from the willingly spread legs at court. Another part that composes a list of all in Wonderland who might be sufficiently appealing and willing to replace them.

Needless to say that this particular run-in did not qualify for an entry by criterion of willingness alone.

"Small world," Buckingham offers with his best grin and takes a step aside.

"And getting smaller by the day," he adds idly.

[thestormcomes]

"Unfortunately," Athos amends with no small amount of contempt. Having successfully avoided Lord Buckingham for some time (a feat in and of itself in a mansion with a finite number of rooms), he isn't exactly pleased as punch to bear witness to the duke's insufferable presence now.

...no matter how good-looking the man is.

"Enjoying the décor, are you?"

In the hallways, it's fortunately less abrasive to the eyes than it is in the rooms, which are sporting beds and some truly garish linens that affront every 17th century sensibility.

They must be right up Buckingham's alley.

[airshipswank]

"Of course, why would I not? Such future designs are always so... stimulating."

Too stimulating perhaps, if Buckingham thinks of the colours that had him pleased, the soft fabric that had him enthralled and the sweet lightness in his head that had his hand slipping down his breeches before he could even reflect on his own actions.

A kind of enjoyment that really, really ought to be shared. Which, on a note utterly unrelated to such thought, reminds him to muse with much concern:

"Only the arrangements regarding our rooms appear to be... inconvenient to some, I understand."

Buckingham looks at Athos with a broad and generous smile.

"If you have yet to find a place to rest I would be... eager to accommodate you."

[thestormcomes]

Even Athos has felt the vague sting of this event (it can be nothing else), the reminder that he has been more than a year lacking human touch, that there is still a hunger yet unsatisfied by drink.

It is a not a hunger that Buckingham can rid him of, though.

"How inscrutably kind of you," the musketeer remarks dryly, somewhat warier of Buckingham's overly hospitable state. "But I am afraid I must reject your offer. The quarters I have elected to stay in will suit me well enough for the duration of this..."

Athos grimaces, lofting an eyebrow at a suggestive painting on the far wall of the hallway.

"...travesty."

[airshipswank]

"As you wish," Buckingham hums and follows Athos' look towards the painting.

Blessed with the kind of mind that does not often dwell on things the duke rarely finds himself in despair at his relocation, but the longer this particular event lasts the more he feels something restless stirring inside of him.

Homesickness, he concludes silently with a small twitch at the corner of his mouth as he studies the magnificent piece of art at length.

Ahh, such sweet memories he longs for. The green and elegant countryside. The busy streets of London. The even busier and more colourful celebrations at court. Foreign receptions with Athos on his knees.

"It makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

He makes a point of letting his gaze linger, before it finally turns back to Athos.

"We stand in somebody's past, I wonder.... who amongst us has lived through this before."

[thestormcomes]

You know who does dwell on things? The dashing gentleman with the serious chip on his shoulder who speaks fluent French. Yes. That guy. And no matter the circumstances he finds himself in, any having to do with Buckingham will forever remind him that the man helped to rend his life asunder.

"I try not to wonder at it," he replied bluntly. "Whatever its purpose, it is more sinister than beneficial. But perhaps one day we may find ourselves back in Paris, or on your ship."

And what an interesting day that would be. Reliving the moment when he and his friends stole the bloody thing right out from under the duke's nose.

...The duke's nose, which is sharp and offers a strong profile, a handsome face, one enjoyed by many in the English court and the king himself, no doubt, indulges in seeing that face smile with pleasu-

Er.

Right, this is...not that kind of roleplay, is it?

[airshipswank]

"Perhaps back in Paris," he repeats slowly and nods, confirming the idea.

"Or London?" he muses and turns to glance at a marble statue of two people entwined in a manner that makes even him wonder if the effort of the acrobatic feat is worth the carnal reward.

"Or..."

He pauses and turns away completely, so as not to betray his expression.

"...Venice?"

You mean the kind where Buckingham's eyes glint with something more than mischief and he advances towards the musketeer with his lips parted ever so slightly, lust and hunger drowning all caution as he reaches for Athos' doublet and purrs in a voice sweeter than honey that perhaps, just perhaps, he can show Monsieur le Comte a way to quiet the voices and ease some of his tension?

...No. No, I'm afraid it is not.

[thestormcomes]

Venice.

Venice fills him with anger - justifiable anger, mind you. He hasn't set foot in Italy since the last debacle that earned him and his associates a boot out of official musketeer duties, and he doesn't plan to any time soon. No masquerades, no slithering through the sewage that is the Grand Canal (let's be honest, that thing is as foul as the pomade Buckingham puts in his hair), no war machine plans, no wife.

Now...this is the kind of scenario where Athos steps forward with purpose and grabs hold of Buckingham's collar, slamming him into the wall, forearm pressed against the man's chest. The musketeer's breath hot and heavy, his sword sheathed - but at this rate, not for long - Athos holds the duke firmly, with no apparent intention of letting him go.

...oh, wait, was that supposed to be in italics?

"Do not. Speak. Of Venice."

There we go. Same thing.

[action forever]

[brainkegger]

[As soon as the voices started tickling at the edges of Tara's consciousness, she couldn't help but get paranoid. She didn't hear voices. She wasn't that kind of crazy!

But then the voices said such nice things and they were tempting, a little, but Max wasn't here and-- and T does not care about that.

T is up for anything.

So up for it, in fact, that she's wandering into random rooms and leaning against doorframes seductively. Lucky for Buckingham, she's picked his room to start.]

Well, hey there.

[airshipswank]

Hey yourself,

[ Buckingham repeats slowly, as if weighing the merit of an informal alternative to his well-practiced and more elaborate welcomes. ]

You are looking for an occupant or... a room to occupy?

[ As far as occupants go the duke is the only one present at the moment. Present, accounted for and polishing his boots on the bed after "polishing his boots" in the bathroom. ]

wow i'm failing at innuendos lately i did NOT GET THAT AT ALL

[brainkegger]

Well, I guess I'm looking to be occupied.

[She grins, pretty proud of the word play, all things considered. It might seem a little brainy and therefore not sexy, but the fact that she just talked about his dick occupying her pussy kind of makes up for it.]

Interested?

It will come to you next time~~~~

[airshipswank]

[ A long and hard gaze filled with incredulity and judgement. Silent outrage at a morality so far removed from familiar values. A deep sense of values disturbed and principles rattled by such outspoken frankness and blunt sexuality.

...All of those are conspicuously missing as Buckingham stands up without hesitation and unbuttons his doublet. ]

Close the door.

;D

[brainkegger]

[T practically squeals, karate kicking the door shut and immediately tearing her shirt off. This is gonna be great. The guy even kinda looks like Orlando Bloom. Hot as fuck.]

Where do you wanna do it, baby?

[airshipswank]

Lady's choice,

[ Buckingham offers generously with arms motioning across the entire room, despite finding the lady monicker somewhat questionable in this particular case. ]

[brainkegger]

[T vaults onto the bed, bouncing a little before moving to get her short-shorts off.]

Come on, get over here.

[Patience is a virtue that T has never cared much for.]

[airshipswank]

[ Patience is a virtue Buckingham too will gladly leave to others, unless the matter that demands virtuous treatment is clothing. In that case the duke can spare a moment to elegantly remove his doublet. And another for his breeches. ]

Perhaps you would care... to introduce yourself?

[ It's hardly a requirement, merely idle curiosity and a way to pass the moments before he shows himself in front of her fully disrobed and approaches the bed. ]

getting some ACTION

[40410]

Alex has a passing familiarity with hearing voices in his head, thanks to the whole plasmid fiasco and then also the second whole plasmid fiasco. So for the first days of the event, he isolates the alien thoughts and banishes them, determined to keep his mind for himself, because the alternative just never ends well either in or out of Wonderland.

Sadly, the first days of the event turned out to be on easy mode. Alex just wasn't ready for the jump to Extreme (Experienced Players Only). So if he could lock himself in the bathroom that would be great, but apparently S O M E O N E already had that idea.

BANG BANG BANG. On the bathroom door. Not the other kind of banging, you pervert.

"Hey! How long are you gonna be in there?"

BANG BANG BANG.

[airshipswank]

BANG BANG BANG.

The mattress feels soft against his back and the back of his bed bangs against the wall hard. Drowning in the sound of creaking wood his lips are free to part and let a moan escape, but of course such small disguise is not enough to fool any passerby that the audience behind closed doors is devoid of all discourse about political matters. When the rope binding his wrists cuts into his flesh he does not relent, savours the sweetness of such sharp sensation instead and pulls harder at the--

"Hey! How long are you gonna be in there?"

Buckingham's eyes snap open. The sharp sensation of reminiscence interrupted is utterly lacking in sweetness.

BANG BANG-

While soaking in bliss and warm water alike the duke's hands have found their rightful and stimulating place nestled between His Lordship's thighs, but now--

-BANG.

...now it appears they would be far better placed around somebody else's neck instead.

Lacking the patience to wait for the intruder to disappear Buckingham emerges from his bath and hastily wraps a towel around his waist. This, as many cinematic studies from the future have taught him, is to be considered an appropriate - and in his case certainly flattering - attire for the situation.

But choosing the right ensemble is as far as his efforts in courtesy will go at the moment and the door to the outside is pulled open with considerably less grace and consideration.

"Did it not occur to you that you might find a bath at your disposal elsewhere?"

Buckingham's words are dripping anger onto Alex as his hair is dripping water onto his shoulders. This is a good metaphor comparison.

[40410]

Alex was all ready to do the angry thing and is quite prepared to return fire, even though Buckingham has no right whatsoever to be mad, that bathroom hog. What he wasn't quite ready for was dripping near-nudity. Uh. Uh.

Um.

He swallows. Then he rallies magnificently, in order to be pissed off at stupid sexy Buckingham and disembodied voices and every single one of Wonderland's stupid awful stupid events.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we're short a few bathrooms this event. How long could you possibly need in there?"

[airshipswank]

How long? At least twice as long now that Buckingham has been disturbed and, once the intruder has been dealt with, will need to coax His Below-Waistly Lordship back into position.

His skin is already prickling hot with rage at the thought. Rage. Yes. That is the emotion we are looking for.

"Yet a few more remain, but... those are all occupied as well?," Buckingham growls back without dignifying the inquiry with an answer.

"Or is this one simply especially dear to you?"

[40410]

Other narration, it's really okay, you don't need to talk about Buckingham's little lord. Alex is already getting enough of that from the voice in his head.

His voice drops a few notes with anger. Anger. Yes. That is the emotion we are looking for.

"Did you somehow miss what everyone's doing in those other rooms?" Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but he'd rather not test the theory too far. "I don't feel like stepping over a bunch of people just to go to the bathroom."

[airshipswank]

Little lord? This narration assures the other narration that there is nothing little about the... noble that hides under this towel, as if waiting patiently not to bow, but to stand firm and hard at a worthy visitor's command.

...The young man (the one Buckingham now clearly recognises from a previous encounter) is perhaps not what the duke would call especially worthy under different circumstances, but he is what the voices in Buckingham's head would call available within arm's reach.

"Whenever you do feel like it," Buckingham drawls and pulls at the towel that has been steadily slipping down his waist, "I trust that you will find yourself rewarded with a bathroom far more readily available-"

He presses his hand against the door frame, barring the way.

"-than this one."

[40410]

Well you're not such a catch yourself, with your stupid facial hair (what's next -- a mohawk?) and your stupid froofy dress sense, even if the latter is not currently a problem and the former is way less interesting than the slipping towel.

Uh -- um. Er.

Of course, being the eminently self-conscious baka he is, noticing his own distraction just makes Alex even more fighty. He draws himself up to his full and very reasonable height, refusing to let Buckingham be the only physically aggressive person here.

"Why don't you go find another one?" he demands. "I don't know how they do it in your world, but for everyone else it doesn't take three days to take a bath. Did you get it stuck in the plug hole?"

Point to schlong. It doesn't take a genius; they've all got the same voices.

[airshipswank]

Alex's full and very reasonable height surpasses the duke's, but to think that he stood slouched before clearly lends Buckingham's noble (if slightly shorter) bearing all the superiority it requires.

"In my world," he begins slowly, "I take as long as I wish and call for the execution of anyone who thinks to question or... interrupt."

Ahh, good times. Slightly embellished, but no less marvelous. Buckingham savours the words and their memories, so much so that his tongue can't help but slide across his lips slowly.

"Shall we give that a try, do you think?"

It must be an empty threat, surely. After all, how many daggers could a naked duke possibly be hiding on his person during a bath?