𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.

it made sense to eros. she looked wholly metal—cold and reflective. indeed, it bordered on logical to him. but if his year or so here had taught him anything: technology was far more intelligent than he’d initially anticipated. the fact that her fingers could bend and twitch and pluck already threw his mind for a loop.

his molars sunk into the flanks of his tongue. his gaze flashed downcast.

honestly, night city made him feel stupid. he didn’t like thinking of himself as a stupid person—in fact, the very notion rattled him red just thinking about it—but the truth was: in the face of night city, he was. or, at the very least, ignorant. but the lines between ignorance and stupidity could easily blur, someone dancing in both, and he considered that thought to be a mirror of himself.

eros’ gaze finally flitted back onto hers. brown on chrome. 

eros is a sex worker. commonly referred to throughout night city as a “joytoy”  ( something he isn’t overtly fond of but will stomach for the sake of mainstream )  , he spins high tales of carnality for a pretty bunch of eddies. that being said, his sex life outside of work? teeters on non-existent. it’s not because he has no sex drive outside of his workload, more so it’s that he despises the notion that he could be used by “friends” and acquaintances for quick flings because he does work in the realm of sex. that he could be seen as an “easy (and free) lay” purely because of his associated work tethers. he has no qualms about other people engaging in lots of casual sexual encounters, but when it comes to him ... he can’t help but feel used in most circumstances.

when he is really interested in someone else outside of work and feels like they may reciprocate, he’ll typically play up a role where he beats around the bush. he’ll be more quippy, at times sarcastic. he’ll grumble, snort, roll his eyes. this is a way of, almost, trying to see how far he can go without indulging and where they’ll still retain interest in him.

𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄:  free doves. 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄:  cult. 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:  night city;  badlands. 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃:  mid-to-late 2040s. 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑(𝐒):  mitchell sallow;  elizabeth sallow. 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑(𝐒):  elizabeth sallow. 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒:  estimated in the 40s to 50s. 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋:  low ( could reach medium if left unsupervised and unchecked ).

the free doves are a cult located in the periphery of night city. their primary ideological sphere revolves around the notion that freedom of sin can only be obtained by absence of cybernetics and reverting to traditional, westernised perceptions of society. free doves, like many cults, are under the radar for many of the citizens of night city. they are far more concealed than gangs, which typically concentrate on making a name for themselves in mainstream veins of society.

the free doves were founded somewhere in the mid-to-late 2040s by couple mitchell sallow and elizabeth sallow. several witnesses and former friends of the duo would comment about their outlandish perceptions of society and how society needed to revert to “where it once was”. they made various spiels about how the body is sacred and that, by means of getting cybernetics, they were “tainting” their body with “sin”. the couple eventually absconded their former lives within night city with intent on setting up a “clan” on the outskirts. 

The one thing people in the City never told anyone, was ironically enough something that was so valuable to know that it often came in handy when finding oneself in a bind. The currency of information was a commodity in Night City that could be used to make or break someone’s entire career, and the reality was, the people with power didn’t just possess standard resources, but information as well. Normally, Vance was not so direct with receiving the information he needed, he was a hacker by nature which avoiding the necessity of getting things direct was generally preferable. 

Most people would argue that FIXERS were databanks in the city, that there was nowhere better to look for information than them considering the fact that they had their hands in SO MANY different things, but the reality was that joytoys & dolls were truly the best source. No one was exempt from their services for the most part, and even if they were, no ears existed that were closer to the ground.

He’d made a trip out from the Afterlife for some business to attend to in an attempt at gathering some information. A friend of his had tipped him off to the idea that perhaps turning to Joytoys who frequented Lizzie’s Bar would be a good place to start. HIS OLD STOMPING GROUNDS. He hadn’t been back in so long it felt like an eternity and for a brief moment amidst his approach he gets lost int he nostalgia of it before words snap him back into reality, head shaking.

The way they speak to him almost feels like code, and with hands in his pockets he greets them politely, clearing his throat before speaking.

“As a matter of fact, I think you can–––I got some…QUESTIONS that need answerin’ and I thought maybe one of you lovely lil things could gimme some–––or maybe point me in the right direction for a lil pet project I’m doin’.”

"𝐘𝐎𝐔 hear that, lovelies? we got somethin’ he might need!” a high, shrill laugh bubbled out of her, plumping cheeks and parting lips. the remainder of the little posse promptly dissolved into giggles ... with the exception of eros. 

questions? oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. not one bit. the chime of betrayal rung distantly in his ears. he adjusted the silken strap secured around his midriff, trying to make idle with his hands that felt like they wanted to bud with jitters. he curbed that jittery urge, harsh and swift.

he couldn’t help but feel oddly small. while the man’s gaze wasn’t centred on him and him alone, eros still felt like he wanted to shrink far, far away and scuttle into some little recess like a panic-struck mouse. it was ... an odd feeling, to say the least. he’d been threatened with knives and guns, tossed around like naught but a woven doll by an angry child that didn’t get their way and he could still muster a defiant smile in those circumstances.

he didn’t mind walking into danger but he didn’t like danger walking up to him, no matter how polite it tried to make itself out to be.

coming to night city has been cultural shock after cultural shock and night city pride? well that’s just the cherry atop of how much he’s been forced to live under a rock! he goes the second time to pride and he loves it far more than the first time! rather than being overwhelmed purely and wholly, where he was unable to concentrate on one specific thing and finding everything blurring together, he finds out that there’s a flag for intersex ppl! he knew there was a flag for other groups but didn’t know there was one for intersex ppl! it feels so comforting that there’s a name for ppl like him and he’s not alone!

While other’s may have hated the smell and noise of too many bodies stuffed into too small an area, for Kerry, it was something of a comfort. It reminded him of all the dingy, run-down joints Samurai would play in when they were first getting started. Back then, everything seemed easier. All the band cared about was the next gig and how they were going to get their next meal or hit. Now? Now he had more money than he knew what to do with but he would give up every single ennie for another night with Johnny and the gang back then… just drinking beers and shit talking while they laid down rifts? It seemed like a dream now with how long ago it had been.

 The noise of overlapping conversations surrounded him like a blanket and the blonde could just zone out and people watch for a bit. The act helped clear his mind whenever he was feeling a little too overwhelmed and today was no different. Kerry was lonely, which wasn’t a new phenomenom honestly, but that creeping feeling of insignificance had started taking hold again. The walls of his mansion had started to feel like they were closing in on him and even a few smokes hadn’t calmed his nerves. Even with the risk of being seen, the rocker felt like he had to get out of his place and just go… do something. That something meant hit up a few bars and drink probably an unhealthy amount of cheap beer. The worst tasting the better in his opinion because it was the kind of night Kerry felt like punishing himself a bit.

“...?” Seeing a figure approach him had a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. It was unlikely no one would recognize him at all but the star had hoped he’d at least covered himself up enough to avoid a large amount of suspicion. The only thing he really couldn’t conceal well was his throat and with how popular his music was over time, there were likely a few people out there with cybernetics modeled after his. Maybe it was just someone being friendly? …Maybe.

The stranger’s comment had Kerry smirking to himself as he took another sip of his Broseph Ale, damn it was stale but he still kept going. “You really know how to spot ‘em, kid. And you-” He motioned to the gorgeous crimson dress the other was wearing, “You seem to be wantin’ the exact opposite. Don’t that make us a pair?” It was his aim to keep it casual just in case he needed to bolt. While he wanted to be out in the underground tonight, the blonde didn’t have it in himself to placate any fans at the moment.

𝐇𝐈𝐒 eyes—a brown not unlike that of earth kissed deep by rains—drifted downcast, where the other gestured. indeed, he was hoping someone would notice or, at the very least, that he’d earn a few double-takes. it may be a hand-me-down dress that he’d tailored to fit his person ( not without a hitch or two ... ignoring that ), but that wouldn’t stop him from wearing it to hell and back.

eros is trans !!! and proud to be !!! his self-realisation may have been both complicated and heightened by his intersex status, and how he was treated both socially / medically bc of such but that doesn’t make him any less trans !!! just because he doesn’t feel comfortable seeking any surgeries, and is comfortable ( more or less ) in his body also doesn’t make him any less trans either !!!

clubs always stunk. it was a blend of perspiration, spilled food, and alcohol—spend enough time here and those scents, though fetid on their own, seemed to blur into one another; downright malodourous. eros’ nares flared, upper lip curled back as he downed a quick shot. it burned all the way down and he felt a little shudder disperse into his shoulders.

“whew,” came out breathy and he gingerly nudged the shot glass back whence it came, spinning on his heels. his deep, v-necked dress billowed out behind him, caught as though bouncing on clouds, and his small heels punctured the atmosphere with each footfall.

click. click. click.

as he strolled back to his little posse of friends, he noted the way they were chattering; each one trying to subtly gesture at the individual a booth or two away from them and failing horrifically. eros quirked a brow, and he heard one of them hush him with a, “shh!”, and titter wildly.

he couldn’t help but find his gaze trail towards that who they were gesturing at. a man, by the looks of it. the man seemed to be ... concealing himself? the front-brimmed hat, the hoodie tightened up close to his jaw, the thick, heavily-tinted shades ...