Miss: The Fallen Pavilion Wraps Us Together And Keeps Us Apart

Lolo's exercise, Conjure Pavilion, has collapsed upon the three of you. You moan and writhe with magically induced lust amongst the folds of your former nightgown, the silk-lace-and-lambswool piece of froufrou you had pulled impulsively from the bottom of your belongings with malice aforethought. The contagion aspect of invoking lust into a pavilion whose fabric you'd sweated, longed, dreamed and desired into had worked too well, enwrapping you in the tendrils of lust that had caught Lolo and Morgan.

Not that you were in a place to complain as you sought eagerly through the soft fabric folds for the flesh of your lovers.

Roll +DILIGENCE(-1) to HAVE SEX as you roll and squirm in the folds of the fallen pavilion, still half-drained from your struggle with the thought-forms wearing Tess' face and feelings.

⚂⚂ - 1 = 5, Miss.

As exciting as it is, it's hard to keep pushing and lifting the folds of fabric. It's getting hot and close and you're feeling dizzy and ill.

Finally you just can't go on. "No-oh-oh-oh-oh, ah-haah, haaah," you moan, wracked with sobs of frustrated desire, your temples aching as a frown clenches harder on your brow. Lolo and Morgan have found each other and are struggling together, hands grasping, lips and tongues questing, knees seeking to spread knees, hips straining toward something, anything to grind on. There's nothing you can do but weep, sob, and gasp in half-breaths of the hot, wet, intoxicating vapor of sex while Morgan and Lolo wrench climax after climax out of each other. Sobbing turns to sniffling, sniffling to sighing, and sighing to sleep.

You wake up in your bed, hearing the sound of a stiff bristle-brush fighting its way through long hair. Morgan is sitting at the cramped little vanity seat, looking in the mirror and brushing her hair.

Your head aches. Your mouth is dry. Your stomach is unsteady.

"Morgan?" you say. But it comes out as a soft croak, and she doesn't turn.

"Mmmmorgan?" you try. More like her name this time.

"Oh dear, Fay," Morgan says. "Lolo had to carry you home, too. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I regret every terrible decision that got me here," you pronounce. "Next time I'll have you sit on me until I feel all better."

On a peg, you spot a shredded, soiled, once-white article of fabric which must have been first your nightgown and then Golondrina's conjured pavilion.

"And I should have burned that nightie. But I left too many feelings in it, I couldn't bear to." Your dry throat prompts a cough.

"Poor Fay," Morgan says.

"Can you just baby me for a day, Morgan? Please?" you beg her.

You have Ambition +2, Bravery -1, Cunning +2, Diligence +0, and 3 XP.
FRIEND: Morgan, who also owes you a FAVOR.

You have a date to HAVE SEX with Cook, who walks about in a mouthwatering scent cloud of cinnamon apple tart.

You have the CONSEQUENCE: Drained. Take a -1 on all Move rolls.

• Ask your FRIEND Morgan for some tender loving care. Roll +DILIGENCE(+1) (+0 DILIGENCE, +2 FRIEND, -1 CONSEQUENCE) to ENCOUNTER Morgan. On a 10+ you may remove a CONSEQUENCE. On a 7-9 you may use Morgan's FAVOR to remove your CONSEQUENCE.

⚃⚂ + 1 = 8.

On a 7-9, plead with Morgan, use your FAVOR to remove a CONSEQUENCE.

"Oh all right, Fay," Morgan assents. "No sense in letting you sulk any harder." She sighs.

"I knew you'd see it my way," you tell her. "Kiss." You pucker your lips and beckon with your fingers.

Morgan blinks her eyes at you, her hairbrush raised for her next stroke.

"Kiss!," you demand.

Morgan puts down the brush, untangles herself from the cramped vanity seat, and comes back over to the bed to silence your demand with her lips.

"Ahhh," you sigh. "I needed that. I feel better already."

Morgan's a good sport about it all, walking with you holding hands, eating with you, bathing you and kneading your back until it loosens up and your limbs ripple with feelings of good health. By the hour when it's time to get back into bed, you feel nurtured and pampered and taken good care of.

"I need to get up, Fay," Morgan says from beside you in your bed. "I have to read another chapter tonight. Let me tuck you in."

"Thank you, Morgan," you tell her. "Tuck. Good. Ahh." But you're fading fast and don't catch her reply.

You have Ambition +2, Bravery -1, Cunning +2, Diligence +0, and 3 XP.
FRIEND: Morgan Woodbine, also late of Minerval to Beavertail, hedge witch, bedmate, and true love.

You have a date to HAVE SEX with Cook, who walks about in a mouthwatering scent cloud of cinnamon apple tart.

Possible Moves:

• Roll +DILIGENCE(+0) to keep your date and HAVE SEX with House Beavertail's Cook.
• Check on Tess. Tell her your plans to get grounded at Beavertail. Roll +DILIGENCE(0) to ENCOUNTER her and get her help with your next move, whether that's asking the Housemistress to help with garden conjuration or to ask Miss Hemstitch about being a Prefect.
• Something else?