If there's a single axiom Rose can rely upon, it's that Dirk will always rise to the challenge of thinking up a worse idea. He's like Dave in that way, though where Dave blundered helplessly and repeatedly into cursed metaphors, Dirk deploys his internet-metastasized thoughts with tactical precision. She does have to admit that Dirk's pitch is catchy, even if the thought of it threatens to seal her genitals shut for the rest of her divine lifespan. As transparent as Amani is about its purpose, Rose can't imagine she's the only person here who needs a little poesy to get her in the mood. Something like "Two In The Bush," "Heaven's Bedly Sins," "Eros' Cave," "Mightier Than The Sword," "Strange Bedfellows," "Charm and Slam Her"... that last one might be too niche for a general audience.
Not that Rose is as concerned with the capital-A Audience as Dirk is. It isn't that she doesn't know they're out there, or that her plans don't take them into account, but they just aren't her department. Any setting treated with a certain amount of gravitas gains weight--the more seriously she takes the reality they're in, the more real it becomes. The grand work of cosmic reification never stops, and childish complaints about the quality of that reality ill suit the role she's accepted.
Where was she? Ah, yes, sex shop names. "It's certainly direct. I'll write up a shared document to jumpstart the workshopping process." Dirk didn't ask her to do that, but quibbling over names is practically a family tradition. She ignores his "political correctness" pet peeve, an evasion that's also become a tradition.
"I wouldn't dare suggest that you engage in English-tier debauchery, Dirk. I'm sure the stick-removal-and-replacement process before and after each partner is grueling, and I'm also sure you aren't lubricating with liquor. You'll have to rely on quality over quantity." The extent to which Rose can debauch herself is still up in the air, of course. Her only tie here is Dirk, and even years of desperate boredom failed to force them into anything more intimate than Dirk calibrating her mechanical body. And her fleshy body doesn't feel especially powerful and sexy at present. So how is she going to find the motivation to slut it up?
An idea occurs to her then, one so blindingly obvious that Rose suspects it was always waiting for her. Well, in for a penny, in for a pounding. "Maybe we should make a game out of it. I've always wanted to turn a harmless hobby like stamp-collecting into a competitive venture." She doesn't need to say the stakes: among gods, bragging rights are sacrosanct, proof of whose nature is more essential to reality. "But you've been here for some time, haven't you? It would only be fair for you to disclose how massive a head-start I have to overcome."
no subject
Not that Rose is as concerned with the capital-A Audience as Dirk is. It isn't that she doesn't know they're out there, or that her plans don't take them into account, but they just aren't her department. Any setting treated with a certain amount of gravitas gains weight--the more seriously she takes the reality they're in, the more real it becomes. The grand work of cosmic reification never stops, and childish complaints about the quality of that reality ill suit the role she's accepted.
Where was she? Ah, yes, sex shop names. "It's certainly direct. I'll write up a shared document to jumpstart the workshopping process." Dirk didn't ask her to do that, but quibbling over names is practically a family tradition. She ignores his "political correctness" pet peeve, an evasion that's also become a tradition.
"I wouldn't dare suggest that you engage in English-tier debauchery, Dirk. I'm sure the stick-removal-and-replacement process before and after each partner is grueling, and I'm also sure you aren't lubricating with liquor. You'll have to rely on quality over quantity." The extent to which Rose can debauch herself is still up in the air, of course. Her only tie here is Dirk, and even years of desperate boredom failed to force them into anything more intimate than Dirk calibrating her mechanical body. And her fleshy body doesn't feel especially powerful and sexy at present. So how is she going to find the motivation to slut it up?
An idea occurs to her then, one so blindingly obvious that Rose suspects it was always waiting for her. Well, in for a penny, in for a pounding. "Maybe we should make a game out of it. I've always wanted to turn a harmless hobby like stamp-collecting into a competitive venture." She doesn't need to say the stakes: among gods, bragging rights are sacrosanct, proof of whose nature is more essential to reality. "But you've been here for some time, haven't you? It would only be fair for you to disclose how massive a head-start I have to overcome."