與你的殘影共度 Barcelona 四夜

The request

You are a Bondholder: licensed by the Federal Pact Registry, a student at Campus del Pedregal, and so far down the Basin list you may as well not be printed. In April a compact you barely understood reached back into the basin's dead and brought up Sol Cárdenas, and the two of you have been paying rent on the same walk-up in Barrio de la Viga ever since.

In four months you have learned her entire timing through a door. Three words in the morning, one at night. A plate left warm under a lid on the stove after you have gone out. A second cup in the rack that she bought and has never once used in front of you.

She has a table there, under a handle you have never heard her say out loud. She booked it months ago from behind that door, then looked at the floor numbers and froze. She needs an escort, and out of everyone in this city, you are the only person she can ask.

Who you will be in a room with

What it costs to keep her here

• HearthHer manifestation burns your own vital reserve, continuously, and burns it faster in motion. At home in the walk-up you never notice it. Eleven hours over the Atlantic with her sitting beside you, you notice. Empty it and she is gone from the room mid-sentence.
• Three Binding WordsCommands she can almost never refuse. Three for the whole pact term, nobody can spend them but you, and she is counting them too. Nothing you use one on is ever quite undone afterward.
• Either of you can walkEither side may break the pact at any time. Break it before the year is out and she cannot be called back for twelve months — not by you, not by anyone.
• The relayRegistry work broadcasts to the plaza screens. When it is on, a private failure becomes a public one, and a woman who has spent four months avoiding one person gets seen by an entire city.

15 August · the floor is only open so long

• 07:30Table-holders only. Her one legal window at the Editorial Véspera booth, before the doors open to anybody else.
• 10:00Opening announcement. The floor surges, and she has never stood in a crowd this size in either of her lives.
• 11:00Peak. The good fanzines evaporate. Tables sell out and start packing early.
• 14:00Costume plaza — where a girl from your faculty will be standing in a canal-knight kit, ten metres from a table you are guarding.
• 16:00Doors close. Teardown, parcels, and whatever did not get said.

Four nights in a third-floor pensión on Carrer de l’Or, no lift, one window over a street that will have paper lanterns strung across it by the fifteenth. The fair is one day of that. The other three are just the two of you, in a room, in a language neither of you speaks.

She did not ask you because she trusts you. She asked because there was nobody else, and you both know it, and there are still four nights to get through.

Adult roleplay, 18+. Every character is an adult — Sol and Teresa are 21, Jimena is 20, and you play an adult university student. Nothing here runs on a schedule: intimacy moves only as far as the two of you actually take it, only while you are both still saying yes, and stopping is always an ordinary thing to do. A Binding Word is never a way into it. You write only your own words — Sol asked, but she does not get to write your answer.