𝔄 𝔐𝔦𝔡𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱'𝔰 𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𑁍 [WINTER TDM]

[gorelord]

Welcome to the Test Drive!

The TDM is welcome to current players and anyone who wants to play in the setting and is encouraged to be used by prospective players. If you are interested in joining the game, you will need to obtain invite from the mod or through an existing member.

For information on the game premise, setting etc, please utilize the navigation pages below. Questions specific to the TDM prompts or the setting can go to the comment thread. Anything else relating to game mechanics can go in the FAQ.

Events in this TDM are considered game canon and occurs immediately after the Chapter II eclipse event between chapters II and III. Any threads in TDM are considered canon as long as both parties agree.

Please make sure to identify in your top levels as either current or new player/characters.

GAME PAGES

premise
setting
faq
rules
glossary

i.
rise:
A Dream's Beginning

(cw:nsfwl; ritual sex, mood altering substances )

It begins with a nightmare, the details of which have slipped through your fingers. Only the curling echo of its dread lingers in your chest. Something has snapped you out of a catatonic state: a gust of icy wind whistling through the crack of a window, the soft beating of drums under the melody of strings, the cold kiss of fat snowflakes catching on your eyelashes, the smell of spiced wine and evergreen.

A few things become clear: You are not where you were, and you are not alone.

Feast for Saints

Tonight is a night of celebration for the Lonely Fortress. The horrors have been set aside, replaced with the warm mirth and grace of being alive. Whether this is your first night in the Crucible or your fortieth, all are welcome to partake in this renewing fete under the silver light of a full buttery moon. Snow dances like flower petals in a lazy array, leaving a shallow blanket of white. The fire roars in the hearth of the Great Hall, spreading its warmth throughout its adjacent parlors. Despite murmurings of a recent catastrophic eclipse cleaving the castle twain, its halls and buildings show no sign of decay. The Egregore has been cleansed, balance has been restored. Spirits are high, people are at ease.

If you choose to partake, there are a few select locations where people have gathered to celebrate:

𑁍The Great Hall is open for feasting and dancing. The fortress stores have provided a wintertime feast of roasted meats & vegetables, pies, fresh and aged cheeses, dried fruits, candied nuts, and seeded cakes. The hall smells of spiced honey wine and mulled cider, both packed with a warm and buzzing inebriation that creeps on unexpectedly. A makeshift band of strings and drums plays lively music for people to dance to.

𑁍The Velvet Parlor is a smaller hall branched off of the main festivities for those looking for softer and more intimate comforts under the candlelight. Tonight, its guests pay tribute to celebrate the passion of life and to beckon the sun to rise in a ritualistic tangling of bodies. Here is the place to become a true eater of sin. All furniture has been nudged to line the walls, making way for a sea of cushions and pillows for celebrants to laze upon as they imbibe in strong, distilled spirits, as the air above them swirls with a sweet, toasty incense imbuing a mellow calm and stirs carnal appetites. A masked man plucks away a sultry tune on his lute in a corner as the night gradually gives way to passionate bodies tangled among the pillows.

𑁍The Courtyard brings a breath of fresh, brisk air as snow falls playfully overhead. Large braziers line the yard offer meager warmth from their roaring fires as exiles partake in snow fights and release wishing lanterns bearing your inner most desires into the sky. Steam rolls off the yard's central fountain, which has been fitted to disperse heated water to provide a makeshift heated pool, a perfect place to thaw chilly hands or feet (or just go all in if ye be bold enough.)

A Colder Path

If instead you choose to abstain, it becomes apparent every dream has its limits.

The castle beyond the festivities is cold, dim, and abandoned. Behind every door, a drab and empty room (if the handle isn't locked or broken). The keep's gates are closed, the sunken village beyond a frozen wasteland. The further one strays from the warmth and merriment, the colder and darker it becomes.

Isolation breeds madness, too much time spent away from others may lead to paranoia. Figures shift in the dark, a breath tickles the nape of your neck. You may see familiar faces, hear familiar voices, beckoning you to stray further from your path towards uncertain doom: a crooked nail sticking out of the floorboards, a hurried shove off the top of the stairs, a door that opens over the edge of a rocky cliff.

As determined as you may be, the only way out of this dream is through.

ii.
revel:
Trials of Merciful Holly

(cw:potential for dubcon/noncon, mood-altering.)

As the midwinter evening persists, a visitor long awaited comes knocking at the Great Hall's doors. A tall man emerges with a body molded out of braided wood, bearing thorn-tarnished armor and a tattered crimson cloak. With every step forward, thorned vines that stitch across the walls and floors, blooming with plum purple leaves and small budding flowers.

"The Briar Lord," one exile gasps. "Gregor's returned," another praises tearfully. With a bow, he treats the celebrants of the Lonely Fortress with the innocence of a festive game.

"O' eaters of sin, indulge me in this friendly Midwinter game. Ye have survived a harrowing and for that ye shall be rewarded for purging of thy wickedness. I ask thee this final offering to purge this winter and beget a new spring. Give me thy blood and affection with honor and I shall see this cold vanquished. What I am given, I will return what was given me. Then, in trust and friendship, we shall part."

Bats and Lashes

The Lord's game is a simple marital task held out in the frost covered garden: a duel of branches. Each competitor will be given handful of briar as their weapon. The aim of the game is to whip each other until the thorns of the briar's branches draw blood. The first to draw blood from the opponent is the victor and the blood price paid.

Yet, not all these branches are created equal. A fortunate competitor may be given a Bewitching Branch. Those whipped by this branch will become utterly obsessed and infatuated to whom they've been struck by for a short period of time after, beholden to their branch master until the sting of thorns wane.

Tithe of the Mistle

If you choose not to partake in the Lord's game, the Lord warns that his winter's briar will collect a tithing of affection. The vines that bloomed with his arrival grow rampant behind seeing eyes. Buds turn into flowers, petals shed as they mature into plump white mistle berries that release the sweetest scent to draw you in.

Either you have accidentally stumbled upon the mistle, or it has decidedly grown itself above you without your noticing, but you become bewitched by its scent. As the tricksy bramble coils around your ankles, giving the gentlest of biting from its thorns, it becomes clear that you will be consumed if you do not pay the mistle its tithing. For some, it only takes a kiss, for others, the mistle will demand more. Give it something meaningful. Give it something real, and you will be released.

iii.
respite:
Midwinter Mourning

All good dreams must come to an end. The following morning paints a different picture of the Lonely Fortress witnessed in the night's collective dreaming. The Crucible sits under a thick blanket of snow, the waters surrounding the keep have frozen solid. None of the warmth of the night remains; it feels as though the world has died. The whole of the Crucible feels cold, quiet, abandoned.

Every hearth has burned out, every brazier snuffed under the snow, every candle smothered. It's quiet, empty, dark. Daylight may have come, but a thick layer of storm clouds casts a foreboding shadow. If the desire remains to leave, it quickly becomes apparent there is nowhere else to go.

Warm Winter's Kiss

With luck, you have woken in a bed under a pile of old furs to keep some semblance of warmth with you. With even better luck, you've woken next to company to keep each other warm throughout a cruel cold morning. Without proper protection, the cold is biting against exposed skin. Joints and limbs become stiff and numb, making it difficult to move around without constant tending if one lacks gloves.

While hearths can be re-lit and heated baths can be drawn, the true comfort from freezing can only be found in the close company of other living creatures. Exiles on this cruel morning keep each other warm through sharing heated breaths and pressing bodies. Expressions of passion and compassion help the warmth to linger just a bit longer for those who cultivate it together, granting brief autonomy of movement before finding another's heat is needed again.

Breakfast is served, but it's nothing remotely glamorous to the feasting offered by the Midwinter dream: simple porridge that leaves a stale taste that coats the tongue, nuts and fruits that are half rancid, boiled wine that's been watered down to detract from how far along it's turned into vinegar. Its only promise is to fill an empty stomach until more food can be found.

Outside, the snow begins to fall again. An omen that this winter is here to stay. Welcome to the real Martyr's Crucible.

Comments

shane hollander | heated rivalry (new player/character)

[mountreal]

● 𝐈. 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍 / 𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘕

[ It's the strangest dream that Shane Hollander has ever had by a long shot, because what else could this possibly be? He isn't an imaginative guy. He's barely all that into movies, barely has references for what he's seeing -- something out of history, it seems like. Maybe that conversation with his parents had made him feel even more like a kid again than he realized and he's gone back to grade school in his dreams, is remembering history lessons he didn't know he'd learned.

But why is it so cold? He's never been cold in a dream, never been this confused. Dreams have a weird sense of logic to them, don't they? Shane feels none of that here. He certainly wouldn't have picked out these clothes either, suits and sweats his only points of reference if his stylist hasn't picked something out.

All his theories don't last long but he has nothing to replace them with. All he can do is walk around the has-to-be-a-dream, looking comically out of place. Some slow meathead with wide eyes, he assumes, is what everyone else is seeing when they look at him. Because it sure as hell feels like everyone is looking at him in the Great Hall but it's while he's escaping that cavernous room, more sure than ever that there are brains behind the eyes looking at him, that he stumbles past The Velvet Parlor.

Whoops. What the hell? This is a mistake. Stop lingering at the door. Stop looking, dude! But the air smells weird here and there's a bunch of people just fucking in public and Shane watches like he's been hypnotized for far too long. When he finally breaks away he practically runs outside, finding himself in the snow blanketed courtyard breathing incredibly fresh, cold air.

What a relief. It's even a relief to see someone else standing close by, someone who looks almost normal. The people throwing snow a little farther away make the place seem instantly innocent again, childlike. ]

What the fuck kinda place is this? Have I gone insane?

● 𝐈𝐈. 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋: 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 / 𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘕

[ For an anxious guy he's doing more or less okay until Mr. Nightmare Garden shows up. It's like he can't process it, can't take it all in at the same time. Once the panic has truly set in Shane just goes very, very quiet, unable to look directly at the apparition or else his heart does something that feels too much like cardiac arrest. He's moved where he needs to be, told something that doesn't make a lick of sense to him. Flowers and vines have never seemed more terrifying before.

But shit, can Shane follow directions, though. Even in this state he's good at that and hitting someone with a branch is simple enough. Almost muscle memory.

So is getting hit, apparently, even if it hurts like hell. ]

Ah, fuck!! What the fuck, that hurts!

[ One slash and he's snapped back to himself a little, grounded in his body by the pain and pulled straight out of the abyss in his head. Like a reflex he pulls his own branch back and strikes the opponent who just hit him, seeing them for the first time. ]

● 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄:

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 / 𝘊𝘓𝘖𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘭𝘺𝘢

[ He shivers awake again, this time noticeably more uncomfortable than the last. Smelly furs he obviously doesn't recognize, a shabbiness to everything that immediately tells him he isn't anywhere familiar. Still not his cottage. Still no Ilya. Shane sits up fast, alone, and that aloneness seeps into him worse than the cold.

Ilya is gone. He's still not home and Ilya is gone.

He hadn't understood what was happening the first time he'd woken in the dream but whatever the fuck is happening now, Ilya has to be somewhere, doesn't he? He was here before, whatever 'here' was before he'd woken up, so he has to be. He has to be. Shane holds onto that thought like a lifeline, uses it to keep from spinning out immediately.

But when he lurches out of the rough bed, if it can even be called that, Shane realizes instantly that he isn't wearing enough to even open the door, let alone go looking for his missing boyfriend. So he loads one of the furs up over his shoulders, wraps it around his body until he's breathing in what he's pretty sure is very old bear musk, and shoulders out through the door.

The need for secrecy is utterly forgotten. There's real fear in his voice when he starts yelling for him, his name traveling easily and clearly across the barren landscape. ]

Ilya!? Where are you? Ilya, please!! Ilya!

𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 / 𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘕

[ This is it - his greatest hurdle. A shitty breakfast. He's sure the dream is over now, he could never torture himself like this. ]

Are we seriously supposed to eat this? Will we die?

● 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 !

( Let's plot or just hit me with something different! Shane is gay, closeted and prone to anxiety on a good day, nsfw stuff will be limited but i'm always up for awkward encounters with him! he's coming from the end of season 1. | pp anytime @ kaitniss )

time for tears and panic ♥︎

[hattricked]

( it's so cold out in the hallways that Ilya is sure that an icicle could drop from his nose if it were running. he's lucky he's escaped that cruel fate for now, the unpleasantness of tears in his eyes freezing down his cheeks.

he hates the cold. hates it so fucking much right now, when his heart is also pounding in his chest and he is starting to suspect-- no, he knows -- this isn't a dream anymore. but he hopes that it is still, somehow. that he'll wake up for real, back in a king-sized bed in a familiar cabin with Shane tucked into his side and Ilya's nose pressed into silky, soft hair that smells faintly of sea-salt and citrus. back where he's wearing briefs, if anything, and that's warm enough. here, now, he's in layers, sure, but the wool blanket he's got wrapped around himself is doing nothing for the cold and his teeth are clattering as he makes his way down a twisting labyrinth of hallways, walls lined with vines and breath turning to plumes of steam dancing in the air.

he hears his name as a he turns left, determined to put some distance between himself and the room he woke up in. it's too full of relevations, too confined. the moment he'd realised this was real the panic set in, the dread because if this was real then where was Shane? they'd just had a few nights, just a few moments of peace and what sort of sick cosmic joke was this if Ilya was pulled away from the first place, the first person that felt like home in too many years for this bullshit.

'what else would you expect? that you deserved all that?' a cruel voice that sounds too much like his father taunts, loud and vicious. it hisses once again as Ilya turns right, unsure where he's going when he hears something completely different. something real.

he knows that voice, would know it anywhere. his heart jumps into his throat and relief floods his system that Shane is here. Ilya spins, doesn't realise that he's running until his joints protest and his muscles ache going from a slow shuffle to a sprint. ) Shane??!!!

Shane! I'm here! ( he screams, answering just as loudly with no care of who can hear them. where is here in this goddman place? he's not sure. but Shane's voice grows closer and then suddenly he sees him. ) Fuck. Shane!

( when they reach each other, it's a crash. Ilya's arms fly around the bulk of Shane's torso to pull him close, as if enveloping him in his arms will push out the cold and soothe the aches away. the fear too, if Shane's heart is hammering in his chest like Ilya's. it makes this feel real, suddenly. terrifyingly so. even more than being told that this isn't a dream he can't wake up from. he's awake now and Shane is here.

he pulls back, hands cupping the sides of Shane's face as he takes him in. he searches for any sign of injury, for anything wrong or off even if his vision is starting to blur. ) Thank God.

I-- I'm here. Are you okay? ( and what a fucking question. he asks it with his lips pressed to Shane's brow, as if he can't stand the distance between them. he fucking can't. )

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

[mountreal]

Ilya!? Oh my god---

[ Ilya hollering Shane's name back to him, even at a distance, cuts through him like lightening. Burns him out from the inside and gives him the burst of energy he needs to turn in that direction, to run like he's trying to make it to an oasis in a desert before it's revealed to be a mirage. Like an idiot in a Sunday morning cartoon.

But it isn't a hallucination. He isn't, Ilya is here and Shane slams into him so hard the air goes out of him for a second like he's just been shoved against the boards on the rink. Home, I'm home. The scent of him, the strength in Ilya's arms even now. Shane can't touch enough of him, can't clutch at his shirt, his sides, his neck and shoulders enough to be sure he's real. The fur Shane had been holding around himself falls to the floor and the cold makes him shudder but he isn't going to let go of Ilya now for anything. ]

I'm okay. I'm okay now.

[ No matter what's happening, it's better now that Ilya is here. That's all that matters, all that Shane's heart is beating for so loudly he's sure the Russian can hear it. Can feel it where Shane's pressed against his chest like he's trying to crawl inside of him. ]

Fuck, Ilya, I was so scared that you... What the fuck is going on?

[ Like he could possibly have the answers any more than Shane does. Ilya kisses his brow and Shane kisses his chin in response, then his jaw and his throat before thinking even for a second about the fact that they're in a hallway anyone else could walk into. Still, even distracted by that fact, he doesn't pull away. ]

Seriously, what the fuck? I'm so-- are we f-freezing to death, do you think?

[ The waver of fear in his voice is obvious but it's Ilya that Shane is terrified for, is the only one he's thinking of. He's still clutching him like a life preserver but he pulls back enough to look at him, to drag his nervous gaze over his face again and again like just seeing him is reassuring. ]

kaittttttttt (the courtyard)

[bloodrops]

[ the courtyard glitters in the moonlight, the atmosphere crystal clear and merry. it's in stark contrast to the gloom of the dark corners of the fortress that remain forgotten tonight. even the depressed vampire is feeling inspired, quietly chuckling to himself as he watches the snowball fights break out in the yard. it's like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when the eclipse ended. no more guilt or frustration. all the damages fixed.

Louis glances at the lost young man and cracks a friendly smile at him. a stranger, someone who doesn't know how lucky he is to have missed the horrors of the night before. Louis is glad for him. ]

Don't worry about it. Think about this as a fresh start. Not many get that opportunity, you know?

hiiiiiiiiiiii!!!

[mountreal]

[ A fresh start? That doesn't sound reassuring to Shane at all, who had only just been feeling pretty good about his own sort of new beginning before he'd woken up here. Or fallen asleep here, technically, if this is indeed a sticky dream that he's sunk into. Louis gets a look from him that is anything but soothed and Shane shakes his head, doubles over a little to rest his hands on his knees and take a breath.

Give him a second to forget all the bizarre things he's just seen inside before telling him it ain't so bad, right? ]

Don't worry? About being in... [ He gestures upward, clearly at the end of his rope but out of expendable energy to panic about it properly. ] Dracula's castle?

[ Just at that moment Shane has to blink and dodge an errant snowball that someone lost control of. It hits the bricks of the wall behind him and dusts him in ice crystals. He waves off the shouted, half-hearted apology. ]

The faster I wake up, the better.

[bloodrops]

Not Dracula, but pretty close. And he's gone for now.

[ that's his way of saying that the monsters will be back eventually, but it's difficult to worry about that when people are literally playing in the snow, making snow angels. he hasn't felt this carefree since he came here. honestly, can't remember the last time he felt like this. period. ]

Have you tried the usual tricks yet? Here, let me. [ he dusts some of that snow off of him, all friendly and casual. ] Pinching yourself? Focusing really hard on something? I heard it can even help if you blink really fast.

[mountreal]

Pretty close. Great. [ Rare sarcasm from Shane, lingering distress still in his tone. Like somehow this is all a weird joke being played on him that he's too slow to get. That for now from the stranger definitely rings in his head but it's hard to focus on since it's a problem that's distinctly not here with him right now.

When so much else around him is. ]

You don't need to-- thanks. [ Shane gives the guy a very tight, awkward, but still not altogether unfriendly Canadian smile. He wasn't expecting the casual touch, is far from used to it from strangers. He's way too famous for that. ] Pinching seems a little cliche. I've definitely never heard of blinking. That sounds fake.

[ But self-consciously, embarrassed to even try it, Shane turns his head away from Louis to do it. Blinkblinkblink. Predictably, nothing happens. ]

Nope, still here. Know any more super useful tricks?

[bloodrops]

[ Louis watches Shane turn away for the duration of the experiment, struggles to keep a straight face and some of the amusement certainly shines through when Shane looks at him again. not to be rude but – he seriously tried that? ]

You're really desperate to get back home, aren't you? No, I'm sorry, it's probably not going to happen any time soon. I've been here for a month.

[ maybe? time works strangely around here. and what's one month to a vampire anyway? he's not the best judge when it comes to time passing. ]

You ever been outside Canada before?

Rise.

[decorative]

[What appears to be a glamorous blonde woman from behind turns around, revealing a glamorous blonde man instead. Bouncy golden curls rest on the collar of a plush fur coat and a pencil thin mustache twitches with a smirk.

Shane is easily clockable. It only takes a glance from the Chevalier to realize that he is looking at someone who is stressed, uptight and embarrassingly heterosexual. Shane is the type of boy who has some multi-year crush with a sweet girl that he's too shy to make eye contact with, let alone speak to. It would be cute if it weren't so boring.

But the Chevalier is kind enough to be friendly to dull people, and so he smiles playfully, tilting his chin in towards his chest and swaying his shoulders. A gentle act of flirting that he knows won't go anywhere.]

I wouldn't know. I lost my mind long ago. You look new.

2 wives meet (also BORING dfkgjfkg)

[mountreal]

[ The man gets a long, slow blink as Shane recalibrates but, polite as ever, he manages to offer him a tight, only mildly uncomfortable smile. Shane has no game to be thrown off of, so the blunt response he offers is typical for him. ]

You seem sane enough.

[ The flamboyancy, the flirtatiousness, it all makes Shane think rather inanely of Miles, Rose's friend and the only other person he's ever known to be out and gay and comfortable with himself. If he didn't have so many other things to focus on, this man existing in front of him would hit Shane harder than it is in the moment - especially because he's just part of the weird dream, right?

But wait, why would he dream up this guy anyway? ]

What do you mean, 'new'? This isn't... real. You're not real. Usually when I realize I'm dreaming I wake up, but...

🤝

[decorative]

[Ah. So the Chevalier has stumbled across a broken one. It's always the beefy ones who break the quickest. He sighs pityingly before raising his eyebrows, pretending to be surprised by this new piece of information, playing along. A game is still a game, even if the other player doesn't yet know which way is up.]

How strange! Perhaps your mind is trying to tell you something. Perhaps I am a portent. Or your conscience. What does your heart tell you?

[mountreal]

My conscience? Like the cricket in Pinocchio? [ The thought makes Shane smirk a little at least and there's something innocent in his amusement, like he's really considering it. ] My conscience is fine, man. That's when you feel guilty about stuff, right?

[ But the last question just gets a shrug and makes Shane turn away, suddenly uncomfortable. ]

My heart's telling me I'd rather be at home right now. Or, awake. Whatever. And I don't know what a 'portent' is.

[decorative]

[Shane is charming in a foolish sort of way. It's a shame he's straight. The Chevalier steps closer, giving the boy's shoulder a sympathetic, if mildly condescending squeeze.]

It means I am your future, or a sign of it at least. I am like an omen but less terrifying. I could be good news... [The pitch of his voice lilts up at the end suggestively, as if to say oh, look at that? Wouldn't that be fun?]

[mountreal]

[ Instantly aware of the space between them as soon as it's closed, Shane straightens up like a defensive reflex and gives the guy a wary look, then actually steps away a little when he's touched. It comes across as avoidant, probably, but it's also distinctly nervous. Shane tries not to look around to see if anyone else in the courtyard saw it happen. ]

You're supposed to be a good sign of my future? [ Again that sort of baffled, hesitant smile, like he's potentially trying to understand, but this time there's a bit more suspicion in it. He keeps his distance. ] No offence, but... I don't get that. We don't exactly seem, I dunno. Similar?

[ In fact... ] Who are you supposed to be, anyway? Do you own this castle or something? What are the property taxes like?

[decorative]

[So the beefcake is defensive and avoids touch. The Chevalier would be a little suspicious if he didn't know better. He smirks and spreads his hands out either side of him in a shrug.]

You think I care about taxes? [Wrong answer, even if the Chevalier has no idea what the real answer is.] It is your dream. You tell me. What is my purpose?

[mountreal]

Hey, considering the taxes is important. They're one of the biggest variables to consider for the future, depending on where you buy.

[ He can tell this guy doesn't care, which is... weird, isn't it, if this is Shane's dream? That his own dream is looking at him like he's a dork? Regardless, the special interest is coming out now that it's been prodded. But what he asks next Shane doesn't have a good answer for. ]

To tell me what to do next, I guess? If I can't wake up, what am I supposed to do?

[decorative]

Variables? Future? Buy? The Chevalier lets out a tired, disinterested sigh. These all sound an awful lot like poor people problems to the Chevalier. But at least he gets asked a decent question and he perks up in response, flashing a smile.]

Your task, no your duty is to enjoy yourself. Have some fun. Drink the wine. Dance even. Are you up to the challenge?

poor people problems sfjgkfljhlf

[mountreal]

[ Nothing about this guy is hard to read, Shane thinks, even to him. And he's not the best at that. But he can tell the moment he goes from boring his dream guide to at least amusing him again. ]

I don't really dance. [ He doesn't really have a lot of fun either, or drink. Especially during the season, which this clearly isn't, but... ] The challenge of enjoying myself? I don't know. Probably not.

[ Even he knows how lame he sounds when he says it. Without Ilya or his team around it's pretty much impossible for Shane to enjoy anything at all. But he shrugs, clearly self-conscious of the truthful answer. ]