Heres what I got after asking about 'Her Home' (Either its the parsers, or someone did a copy paste wrong I guess)
You ask Raizel about her lodgings. It's, uh... quaint. Cozy. It's easy to tell where everything is. "It's nice, right?" she asks, lifting her gaze to look over the ramshackle abode she calls her own. You follow her gaze to the walls and the ceiling. The building is leaning to one side; each of the four walls is cracked and mishappen, with the wall facing the road to the outpost having a window that's been torn wider from neglect; the walls are all concrete and have signs of water damage, meaning there's likely mold that Raizel's been breathing in. And to top it all off, while this is only one room in the building, the rest of the building is inaccessible: the hallways are too filled with rotten debris to get anywhere else, meaning Raizel's home consists of a single room. It would take days to clean. "Home sweet home," she says, keeping her tone light. The tip of her tail wags up and down as she looks her sleeping spot over. Her tone and her body language are light-hearted enough that, if you weren't looking at the mess that is her living space with your own eyes, you'd almost believe her. It's impressive, being able to lie that easily. Raizel considers her answer to the question for a moment. "Anything?" she says, not as an answer, but as confirmation. You confirm: if she could have ‘anything' to improve her abode, what would it be? She scratches her chin as she looks the room over, trying to imagine what is she could have to spruce it up. It's just a single room in a single, terrible, rotten building. The first thing that comes to your mind is a chair – although Raizel might not have much use for that. "A deed would be nice," she says, snorting once at the absurdity. You tell her that you're serious. "I mean, so am I," she answers quickly. "Something that says that this house belongs to me, and that nobody can kick me out. That'd be fucking awesome. To finally have something, someone, some group of people somewhere, recognize that I own a thing, and that they can't take it from me, because that'd be naughty. And that it'd be within my right to slice them in half for it." There's a powerful appeal in what she just said, about being able to own something. But you meant more along the lines of, you know, furniture. Something that could be more easily attained. "I know what you meant." She tilts her head to one side and scratches her neck, uneasily avoiding your gaze. An uncomfortable silence hangs between you two, punctuated by the sound of her struggling to form words in her mouth; they come out as directionless grunts of varying tones. "L-Look. I... appreciate that you mean well. It's a fuckin' dump in here, and... to be honest, it's embarrassing to have you here sometimes. We have sex in this piece of shit. It'd almost be better to just fuck out in the street than here, a place that I call my home." She smirks wryly. "Kinkier, too," she says, her voice cracking in her attempt at levity. "But," she continues. She continues to avoid making eye contact with you as she struggles to find her words. "I like – well, I don't hate you, Ashera. Don't take it personally, but... I don't know how comfortable I am with the idea of handouts, even from you." If you're honest, that's a little surprising. You would have thought that Raizel would have jumped at the opportunity for free shit. "It's complicated," she responds. "All I've ever known all my life is how to fight for every little thing that I own. The idea of being given something is... uncomfortable. And, like," she continues, spinning her right wrist as she makes up scenarios to justify turning down a gift, "what if it's food? We all need to eat, right? So you might think I'd jump at the chance for some free food. But, on the other hand, I don't know where it's been. I don't know if it's been poisoned. A blanket? I don't know if it's been rubbed in poison ivy. You know, shit like that." You assure her that you would never do anything like that. That sounds incomprehensibly evil. "And I believe you," she says sincerely. "I do trust you, Ashera. But it's going to take more than a sweet face and some good dicking for me to get over my reservations. ‘Once bitten, twice shy', as they say." Well... you're not going to push it any harder than that. Raizel is uncomfortable with taking gifts, and that's that. Maybe, someday, she'll be comfortable enough with you to change that. Her living in a shithole isn't exactly news to her, so you don't bring it up. But... you do say that the property taxes on the place must be amazing. Raizel doesn't answer, not at first. After a few seconds, she smirks, choking back a nasally laugh. "Fuck, you got me," she says, letting her stoney expression crumble to something softer as the joke starts to sink in. "Got it for a steal on the housing market." Hell, in this economy, with the state the world is in right now, you're sure there are no shortage of people that would love to live in an abandoned house like this one. Might even put the effort into fixing it up. "This dump?" she asks, the smile still on her face, but waning slightly. "Not sure how much there is to fix. Better to take all the materials and just make a new one than try to rescue this one." You don't know – there's a certain beauty to a place like this. Sure, it might be easier to just get a new place, if you could afford it... but some things are worth the time and energy to save. Raizel hums, her mouth resetting to its neutral, flaccid state as she takes in your message. You ask Raizel if there's anything about this one building among all the others that drew her to it. All of the buildings in the outpost are equally terrible: what makes this one less terrible than the others? "Absolutely nothing," she answers quickly, then relents. "No, actually, there was one thing. When I first came here, I was looking through them to see if there was anything that made them, well, unique. Like, if one of them had any food left over somewhere, or whatever. A leftover bedroll would have been great. But nah, none of them had anything going for them. This one," she says, flippantly waving her hand to the room you two are in, "had the least amount of garbage in it. It was the easiest to clean up and try to make a place for myself." You ask her what could be improved in her abode to make it feel a little more homely. It's bare as it is: she has... a single candle, with a candleholder, likely something left over that she found when she first moved in, and... not a lot else. Raizel considers her answer to the question for a moment. "Anything?" she says, not as an answer, but as confirmation. You confirm: if she could have ‘anything' to improve her abode, what would it be? She scratches her chin as she looks the room over, trying to imagine what is she could have to spruce it up. It's just a single room in a single, terrible, rotten building. The first thing that comes to your mind is a chair – although Raizel might not have much use for that. "A deed would be nice," she says, snorting once at the absurdity. You tell her that you're serious. "I mean, so am I," she answers quickly. "Something that says that this house belongs to me, and that nobody can kick me out. That'd be fucking awesome. To finally have something, someone, some group of people somewhere, recognize that I own a thing, and that they can't take it from me, because that'd be naughty. And that it'd be within my right to slice them in half for it." There's a powerful appeal in what she just said, about being able to own something. But you meant more along the lines of, you know, furniture. Something that could be more easily attained. "I know what you meant." She tilts her head to one side and scratches her neck, uneasily avoiding your gaze. An uncomfortable silence hangs between you two, punctuated by the sound of her struggling to form words in her mouth; they come out as directionless grunts of varying tones. "L-Look. I... appreciate that you mean well. It's a fuckin' dump in here, and... to be honest, it's embarrassing to have you here sometimes. We have sex in this piece of shit. It'd almost be better to just fuck out in the street than here, a place that I call my home." She smirks wryly. "Kinkier, too," she says, her voice cracking in her attempt at levity. "But," she continues. She continues to avoid making eye contact with you as she struggles to find her words. "I like – well, I don't hate you, Ashera. Don't take it personally, but... I don't know how comfortable I am with the idea of handouts, even from you." If you're honest, that's a little surprising. You would have thought that Raizel would have jumped at the opportunity for free shit. "It's complicated," she responds. "All I've ever known all my life is how to fight for every little thing that I own. The idea of being given something is... uncomfortable. And, like," she continues, spinning her right wrist as she makes up scenarios to justify turning down a gift, "what if it's food? We all need to eat, right? So you might think I'd jump at the chance for some free food. But, on the other hand, I don't know where it's been. I don't know if it's been poisoned. A blanket? I don't know if it's been rubbed in poison ivy. You know, shit like that." You assure her that you would never do anything like that. That sounds incomprehensibly evil. "And I believe you," she says sincerely. "I do trust you, Ashera. But it's going to take more than a sweet face and some good dicking for me to get over my reservations. ‘Once bitten, twice shy', as they say." Well... you're not going to push it any harder than that. Raizel is uncomfortable with taking gifts, and that's that. Maybe, someday, she'll be comfortable enough with you to change that.
You ask Raizel about her lodgings. It's, uh... quaint. Cozy. It's easy to tell where everything is. "It's nice, right?" she asks, lifting her gaze to look over the ramshackle abode she calls her own. You follow her gaze to the walls and the ceiling. The building is leaning to one side; each of the four walls is cracked and mishappen, with the wall facing the road to the outpost having a window that's been torn wider from neglect; the walls are all concrete and have signs of water damage, meaning there's likely mold that Raizel's been breathing in. And to top it all off, while this is only one room in the building, the rest of the building is inaccessible: the hallways are too filled with rotten debris to get anywhere else, meaning Raizel's home consists of a single room. It would take days to clean. "Home sweet home," she says, keeping her tone light. The tip of her tail wags up and down as she looks her sleeping spot over. Her tone and her body language are light-hearted enough that, if you weren't looking at the mess that is her living space with your own eyes, you'd almost believe her. It's impressive, being able to lie that easily. Raizel considers her answer to the question for a moment. "Anything?" she says, not as an answer, but as confirmation. You confirm: if she could have ‘anything' to improve her abode, what would it be? She scratches her chin as she looks the room over, trying to imagine what is she could have to spruce it up. It's just a single room in a single, terrible, rotten building. The first thing that comes to your mind is a chair – although Raizel might not have much use for that. "A deed would be nice," she says, snorting once at the absurdity. You tell her that you're serious. "I mean, so am I," she answers quickly. "Something that says that this house belongs to me, and that nobody can kick me out. That'd be fucking awesome. To finally have something, someone, some group of people somewhere, recognize that I own a thing, and that they can't take it from me, because that'd be naughty. And that it'd be within my right to slice them in half for it." There's a powerful appeal in what she just said, about being able to own something. But you meant more along the lines of, you know, furniture. Something that could be more easily attained. "I know what you meant." She tilts her head to one side and scratches her neck, uneasily avoiding your gaze. An uncomfortable silence hangs between you two, punctuated by the sound of her struggling to form words in her mouth; they come out as directionless grunts of varying tones. "L-Look. I... appreciate that you mean well. It's a fuckin' dump in here, and... to be honest, it's embarrassing to have you here sometimes. We have sex in this piece of shit. It'd almost be better to just fuck out in the street than here, a place that I call my home." She smirks wryly. "Kinkier, too," she says, her voice cracking in her attempt at levity. "But," she continues. She continues to avoid making eye contact with you as she struggles to find her words. "I like – well, I don't hate you, Ashera. Don't take it personally, but... I don't know how comfortable I am with the idea of handouts, even from you." If you're honest, that's a little surprising. You would have thought that Raizel would have jumped at the opportunity for free shit. "It's complicated," she responds. "All I've ever known all my life is how to fight for every little thing that I own. The idea of being given something is... uncomfortable. And, like," she continues, spinning her right wrist as she makes up scenarios to justify turning down a gift, "what if it's food? We all need to eat, right? So you might think I'd jump at the chance for some free food. But, on the other hand, I don't know where it's been. I don't know if it's been poisoned. A blanket? I don't know if it's been rubbed in poison ivy. You know, shit like that." You assure her that you would never do anything like that. That sounds incomprehensibly evil. "And I believe you," she says sincerely. "I do trust you, Ashera. But it's going to take more than a sweet face and some good dicking for me to get over my reservations. ‘Once bitten, twice shy', as they say." Well... you're not going to push it any harder than that. Raizel is uncomfortable with taking gifts, and that's that. Maybe, someday, she'll be comfortable enough with you to change that. Her living in a shithole isn't exactly news to her, so you don't bring it up. But... you do say that the property taxes on the place must be amazing. Raizel doesn't answer, not at first. After a few seconds, she smirks, choking back a nasally laugh. "Fuck, you got me," she says, letting her stoney expression crumble to something softer as the joke starts to sink in. "Got it for a steal on the housing market." Hell, in this economy, with the state the world is in right now, you're sure there are no shortage of people that would love to live in an abandoned house like this one. Might even put the effort into fixing it up. "This dump?" she asks, the smile still on her face, but waning slightly. "Not sure how much there is to fix. Better to take all the materials and just make a new one than try to rescue this one." You don't know – there's a certain beauty to a place like this. Sure, it might be easier to just get a new place, if you could afford it... but some things are worth the time and energy to save. Raizel hums, her mouth resetting to its neutral, flaccid state as she takes in your message. You ask Raizel if there's anything about this one building among all the others that drew her to it. All of the buildings in the outpost are equally terrible: what makes this one less terrible than the others? "Absolutely nothing," she answers quickly, then relents. "No, actually, there was one thing. When I first came here, I was looking through them to see if there was anything that made them, well, unique. Like, if one of them had any food left over somewhere, or whatever. A leftover bedroll would have been great. But nah, none of them had anything going for them. This one," she says, flippantly waving her hand to the room you two are in, "had the least amount of garbage in it. It was the easiest to clean up and try to make a place for myself." You ask her what could be improved in her abode to make it feel a little more homely. It's bare as it is: she has... a single candle, with a candleholder, likely something left over that she found when she first moved in, and... not a lot else. Raizel considers her answer to the question for a moment. "Anything?" she says, not as an answer, but as confirmation. You confirm: if she could have ‘anything' to improve her abode, what would it be? She scratches her chin as she looks the room over, trying to imagine what is she could have to spruce it up. It's just a single room in a single, terrible, rotten building. The first thing that comes to your mind is a chair – although Raizel might not have much use for that. "A deed would be nice," she says, snorting once at the absurdity. You tell her that you're serious. "I mean, so am I," she answers quickly. "Something that says that this house belongs to me, and that nobody can kick me out. That'd be fucking awesome. To finally have something, someone, some group of people somewhere, recognize that I own a thing, and that they can't take it from me, because that'd be naughty. And that it'd be within my right to slice them in half for it." There's a powerful appeal in what she just said, about being able to own something. But you meant more along the lines of, you know, furniture. Something that could be more easily attained. "I know what you meant." She tilts her head to one side and scratches her neck, uneasily avoiding your gaze. An uncomfortable silence hangs between you two, punctuated by the sound of her struggling to form words in her mouth; they come out as directionless grunts of varying tones. "L-Look. I... appreciate that you mean well. It's a fuckin' dump in here, and... to be honest, it's embarrassing to have you here sometimes. We have sex in this piece of shit. It'd almost be better to just fuck out in the street than here, a place that I call my home." She smirks wryly. "Kinkier, too," she says, her voice cracking in her attempt at levity. "But," she continues. She continues to avoid making eye contact with you as she struggles to find her words. "I like – well, I don't hate you, Ashera. Don't take it personally, but... I don't know how comfortable I am with the idea of handouts, even from you." If you're honest, that's a little surprising. You would have thought that Raizel would have jumped at the opportunity for free shit. "It's complicated," she responds. "All I've ever known all my life is how to fight for every little thing that I own. The idea of being given something is... uncomfortable. And, like," she continues, spinning her right wrist as she makes up scenarios to justify turning down a gift, "what if it's food? We all need to eat, right? So you might think I'd jump at the chance for some free food. But, on the other hand, I don't know where it's been. I don't know if it's been poisoned. A blanket? I don't know if it's been rubbed in poison ivy. You know, shit like that." You assure her that you would never do anything like that. That sounds incomprehensibly evil. "And I believe you," she says sincerely. "I do trust you, Ashera. But it's going to take more than a sweet face and some good dicking for me to get over my reservations. ‘Once bitten, twice shy', as they say." Well... you're not going to push it any harder than that. Raizel is uncomfortable with taking gifts, and that's that. Maybe, someday, she'll be comfortable enough with you to change that.