meme | #002 -- absolute obedience ( do you do you want to )

[the]

the ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE MEME 1. Post with your character. 2. That character is compelled to follow the orders of anyone who replies. 3. Any orders. 4. Any orders. Meme Strategy: There's nothing in the rules about whether or not your character knows s/he must obey - as well, the other character might not know that s/he must be obeyed. Play it however you like. Don't like the orders you got? Not willing to have your character follow them, even if you've had a good time up to this point? Talk to the other player, use OOC notes or PMs, try and work it out. Got some stuff you'd never want to play out? Consider making a preferences post and linking to it when you reply here. Wanna give orders that people would love to follow? Give em context. Make it a story. Is this about revenge? Working out some personal issues? Too dumb to realize that the other guy has to do whatever your guy says?

meme from memebells@lj.

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[butchery]

[ She likes having the upper hand and, many times in the past, she's had it. The better to eat you with, my dear, Big Bad had said once upon a time, but she'd still tore her way right out of his gut nevertheless.

Her hand alights on his shoulder, tracing the line of the seam to his jacket. ] Is that any way to greet an old friend?

[lured]

[ She'd still torn her way right out of his gut, and that had hurt like a bitch, let him tell you. (Things had been different back then, although there never really is a back then as far as they're concerned. In the end, they're just going through their own choose your own adventure book one option at a time. He'd just happened to walk on all fours, then, with a great coat of fur and teeth like an armory of knives within his terrible jaws.) ]

Tell me what you'd prefer, then, gingersnap, [ he says then, with a slight tip of his chin. (His tone of voice is warm and inviting, just the way it was when they'd met for the very first time.) ] Anything you'd like, seems like.

[butchery]

[ He'd walked on all fours, she'd worn a cloak red as roses, and the two of them met on a path in the woods. (There's no arguing with the classics, she thinks.) Even though the specific notes have changed, the overall tune remains the same: he tests and taunts, she wiles and survives. Except for the times when she's the one goading. (And the times when she's the one dying, too.) Her hand follows his shoulder to his throat and then up along the line of his jaw to touch the very point of his chin.

(The better to eat you with, indeed. ]

But where would I begin? Claws or teeth; yours or mine?

What would you prefer best of all? I'll give you one request on accounts.

[lured]

[ (Sometimes there's a third — there is, now, riding after them like the shadow of death itself, but the story, in the end, has always been about the two of them.

You don't hear about Little Red and the Wolf and the Huntsman. The story's always just Little Red and the Wolf.)

He grins, then, as if to indulge the hand that flutters just over his chin. ]

Lady's choice. I'll take that request when I need it.

[butchery]

Always the gentleman. [ No, not always. Sometimes anything but, with his bloody maw and his scraping paws. But even in those stories, the scars are still hers — or the death or the savagery or the glinting axe — and it's hers because he gave it to her.

(That part never changes, not even if they wanted it to. Which they don't.)

Her fingers take a hold of his chin and then pull him forward, lowering her face to his. ]

Teeth then, dear. Let's start with mine.

[lured]

[ He kisses her without any further ado, his hands rising to cup her face.

(Their story's a funny thing, really. Sometimes he wonders if they could ever break the cycle, but it's a pointless exercise; they are the cycle and there's no getting around it. Sometimes they remember and sometimes they don't, but there's always a give and there's always a take, and there's always an ending to each little story.) ]

[butchery]

[ He kisses her and she kisses back, her hands winding their way into his hair. It's thick and black and flecked with silver grey and, admittedly, she'd always been fond of it, even at the very beginning when it was still a pelt. The first time she won it, she'd flushed hotly with pride and then proceeded to sew it into the lining of her favorite cloak so that she could have it on her skin always.

(It was a sweet gesture, she thinks, even now.)

When they kiss, there is lip and then tongue and then teeth. (No matter how the story goes, that part's the same too.) And where there is teeth, blood follows after.

More or less; but always red. ]

[lured]

[ (It was a sweet gesture. He'll agree with her, there. His sense of humor doesn't allow him not to.

She's won it many times after that.)

His blood or her blood, who knows. The taste of iron is a familiar one, although it still prompts a sharpness at the edges of his mouth (and whether it's a smile or a grimace, who can tell). By the time he pulls back, there's a coat of that copper color upon his tongue. ]

Starting from the teeth, then.