dankmemes | test drive meme #15

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!test drive

test drive meme #15

Welcome to Hadriel's test drive, and thank you again for your interest in the game! As always, our reserves page is here, and our applications page is here! Reserves open December 25th, and apps are open January 1st. Please remember that there is an app cap of 20 apps.

Two quick points here as well:
1. Any thread made in Hadriel's test drive will be accepted as the sole Action Log sample in the application.
2. All threads made in the test drive can be considered game canon, either through handwaving or through a shared mental experience while coming through the Door!

Test drives will be broken up into specific god mini-events, during which your characters can see how well they fare under the watchful eye of one of the gods. Choose wisely or just simply pick 'em all, and have fun!

F E A R

SCENARIO ONE: YOU SMELL SOMETHING?
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to knock you out, drag you back to its cave, and hang you upside down for some reason. This time, the Door has brought in a number of Wampas, from the Star Wars movies.

Wampas are large and furry, in order to stay warm and alive on their native ice planet of Hoth. While their white fur helps them blend in at home, it's less helpful in Hadriel - but that's fine! They're giant and terrifying with big claws and teeth, they don't really need camouflage too. They'll be more than happy to hunt you down - and if they don't eat you right there, they could knock you out and take you home for a later meal. If you wake up in a wampa cave, let's hope you remembered your lightsaber.]

R A G E

SCENARIO TWO: WE'RE ALL PISSED OFF HERE
[For some reason, something's just pissing you off today. It's something weird, too, something that wouldn't normally bother you at all. Maybe it's jackets or buildings with too many windows. Maybe it's animals or the simple act of sleeping. Whatever it is, it's total bullshit and you hate it.

What are you gonna do about it? Smash some windows? Kick a puppy? Or hey, maybe you'll run across someone who hates that thing just as much as you do, and you'll make a new friend! Or a new enemy, if they're wearing that most horrible of wardrobe items, a jacket.

This is a mini version of our Why Do You Have To Be Mad? event this month!]

D E L I G H T

SCENARIO THREE: THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON
[Generosity and charity have infected the city! And hey, that's a good thing, right? Hadriel could use a little more kindness. Who knows what's causing it - Delight is probably bored - but whatever it is, maybe it's affected you, too.

If it has, you'll be inspired by the desire to give gifts to your friends, your family, that stranger across the street. Of course, Hadriel doesn't have a lot of gift shops, so... well, maybe you should just give them the shirt off your back? Or hey, smash a shop window and grab that can of beans, they'll love that! You could even steal your friend's favorite jacket and give it to your other friend. How generous of you!

Or maybe you're totally unaffected, and a complete stranger just ran up to you on the street and tried to give you a shirt they ripped off their friend. It's, uh. Not weird. Aren't you gonna say thank you?]

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Will had mixed feelings about seeing Hannibal so suddenly, his face said it all. Screwed up at the brow and lips parted as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. It was Hannibal's voice that gave him a shiver, though, just hearing those two words ' Hello, Will' he'd heard them so many times before and each time had a different meaning behind them.

As Hannibal made his way over, hands neatly tucked into his pockets, Will took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Well, I'm er, extremely surprised to see you here..." Turning to look behind and pointing in the direction of the colosseum. "... I didn't see you with the other new arrivals. How long- H-how did you get here?"

Shaking his head in confusion, he was still sick, still suffering from massive losses of time and visions of Hobbs ghostly figure. Was Hannibal real? Had Will imagined him up from some dark part of his mind that still found the doctor interesting? He had to be sure.

"Are... Are you real? I can't tell if I'm awake right now..."

Hannibal frowned as he got closer to Will and made a number of puzzling observations. The uneven dilation of Will's pupils, the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, the slight flush that hinted at fever. Hannibal inhaled through his nose and could smell it, that infection mingled with Will's scent that he had never forgotten, that he held in that conclave in his mind dedicated to his friend. He glanced at Will's cheek, that should have been torn open by the Red Dragon, but was whole. And his friend's face was missing those lines that time had etched into it from the time Hannibal first met the man and the last time he saw him, the blood black in the moonlight.

He looked down at that jacket, that horrid, offensive jacket, and his fingertips tightened on the knife as he considered merely killing Will. But there were so many questions.

"Would you remove your jacket, please?" he asked, the mild mannerly request hiding how close he was to slicing his friend's throat.

Will tossed Hannibal a bewildered look at the request. Blinking a few times in a double take at what he'd been asked. Will looked down at his jacket, then over to Hannibal. It didn't seem as though the other was cold, Hannibal would have simply asked for it if that were the case. So it got Will thinking. Was there something on his jacket? Dirt? A hole?

"W-what?" Confused and a bit startled by not only the sudden arrival of the doctor but their request too. "My jacket... Why?" Shaking his head, his lips parted in puzzlement.

Thinking nothing more of it, Will turned to point behind him, towards the more built up areas of the cave-city. "I don't know if you're aware or not, but we're currently underground, far, far away from Baltimore... I don't know how I wandered here this time, and I'm not sure I'm even talking to you right now..." Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow on the wrist of his jacket.

Will was uneasy. Sure, he'd been seeking treatment from a healer he'd met in the city, but their talent was draining and had to be done over many sessions. The sickness that had Will's brain swelling still tormented him to this day, causing Will a lot of disturbing thoughts and memories. Hannibal, being as observant as he was, might have noticed the bandage and splint Will worn on his right hand, from a wound he gained when he first arrived here.

The worst thing about rage, in Hannibal's opinion, was the way it clouded one's judgement. Even if Hannibal, in his current state, was unable to discern the unreasonable nature of his emotion, he was quite aware of the fact that he could not think with the perfect clarity he was accustomed to. He wanted to examine Will more closely, to figure out what was going on, where they were, why it looked as if Will was younger than he last time Hannibal saw him. But just looking at that jacket made his temperature rise.

He stepped closer to Will, his expression still mild but his eyes sharp.

"Please remove the jacket, Will." The words were polite, but the tone was starting to curdle into a threat.

This was all too confusing for Will. Hannibal wouldn't talk to him normally and instead continued to insist on the removal of Will's jacket? Was this a trick of the God's here or a trick of Will's fevered brain?

As Hannibal stepped closed, Will reached out to him. "Please, Hannibal..." His eyes scanning the other man's face. A face he knew so well, a face he had never thought he'd see here and a face he never thought he'd find himself seeking out.

"...Please... I don't know what's going on anymore." Will was on the brink of crying, clasping onto Hannibal's sleeve, his head hung low. He did, however, unclasp the buttons to his jacket, though it remained on his shoulders.

Will reached for him, like he had reached for him on the cliff, meaning to drag them over, but he was pleading, he was sick, Hannibal could see it, feel it, smell it, he was trying to take off the jacket, the horrible, offensive jacket, baring his belly right there, giving a perfect place for Hannibal to bury his knife in Will's gut, right there where Hannibal had penetrated him before, right there where Hannibal was almost certain there would not yet be a scar...

If there were such a thing as many worlds, if the universe split with each vital decision, in one universe Hannibal's hand held the opened knife as he reached out, the blade sliding into Will's belly...

But in this universe, Hannibal was able to latch on to the conviction that Will was trying to remove the jacket, that he was too feeble to harm Hannibal, that there was no cliff here...in short, he was able to hold on to just enough shreds of his reason.

But first things first. Hannibal tore at that jacket, yanking it from his friend's arms, hurling it aside before taking Will in his arms and holding him tight, his hand that might have killed his friend instead holding his head to Hannibal's shoulder.

"Shhh," Hannibal hushed, for Will's sake and for the sake of the quivering of rage inside him that was just starting to uncoil.

Had Will known what their joint future would bring, then perhaps he wouldn't have gone into Hannibal's arms so easily. At the moment, however, he was the only thing that he knew, the only face from home in this strange underworld he was trapped in. For the time being, though, Will buried his face against Hannibal's shoulder, choking on tears he'd tried so hard to hold in.

His feelings towards the other man were so mixed up right now! Back home, he was convinced that Hannibal was responsible for the murders they'd been investigating, he was sure he was not to be trusted and yet he couldn't stop himself from seeking out his company and advice. In this place, however, he was a ray a sunshine through the darkness, a cool breeze that soothed his swollen head, the calm whisper through troubled times and Will held onto him as if his heart were about to burst.

"I can't... I can't sleep... I can't eat... I don't know what's real anymore Hannibal!... I don't want to be here."

Will felt his jacket being removed in a rough and harsh manner, but he was too inconsolable to care. Maybe later when things calmed down he would ask Hannibal's reason for wanting the item of clothing removed so desperately. For now, he would simply cling on to what he knew and what he needed.

"P-please... Please, Hannibal... Please be real?"

"Shhh," he hushed again, gently stroking Will's hair as he rocked side to side. "I'm real, Will. I'm real."

Hannibal's mind was trying to make sense of all this. The jacket now safely discarded, he was able to focus on all the strange observations flooding his senses, from the way Will looked to the way he smelled to the way he was clinging to Hannibal and sobbing. Will must have been terribly ill to be so uncertain about what was real, and to be so willing to bury himself in Hannibal's arms like that. This was not the Will who grabbed Hannibal and dragged him off a cliff. This was not the teacup shattered by revelation and betrayal.

Hannibal glanced at their surroundings, there on the sidewalk. They would need to go somewhere more private so Hannibal could speak with Will, examine him.

"Is there a place I can take you to rest?"

Hannibal's hushing made it easier to breathe. The tears that cascaded down his cheeks, found their final resting place in the fabric of Hannibal's shirt. Will's head heavy like his heart, pressed trustingly in place beside the neck of a man he never thought that he'd even cling to for dear life.

Just hearing him say that he was real felt like a heavy burden was lifted, and Will sighed out in relief.

"Y-yes... My place isn't far from here." Raising his arm and pointing to the spires at the end of the road. The apartments here were strange, tubular and pointed like stalagmites. It would take Will a moment to gain his balance back, but he was able to walk so long as he could still lean into Hannibal. A seizure was close, he could feel it coming on. There had been nothing to eat other than canned food and chocolate, Will had tried to make a deal with the God of Hope however that called for Will being social and doing something nice for someone....

As they neared the room, after the treacherous flight of spiral stairs, Will almost collapsed into his door, Winston barking with worry already from the other side of it.

Hannibal supported Will as his friend took them to the strange structure, smelling the neurochemicals seeping from Will's pores and becoming more and more concerned that the infection in Will's brain was a threat to his life. He didn't know where they were, but once Will was resting he would see what medical resources were available.

Hannibal caught Will when he sagged against the door, and pulled him into the apartment, closing the door behind him. He instantly recognized the dog that greeted them, staring at Winston for a moment, before looking for a place to lay Will down.

Thankfully, the apartment was small and the living area was close to the door. There was a couch a few steps away from them and Will was already reaching out for it, in a slumping, stumbling mess. Pulling an aspirin bottle from behind the cushion and fumbling with the lid for a long moment before finally popping it free. He swallowed a good mouthful of them, not bothering to count, he just needed something to cool him down, he was so hot.

"No doctors." He mumbled out, grabbing the lapels of Hannibal's coat and pulling himself close. His eyes were dilated, bloodvessels apparent in the whites which had darkened slightly since his time here.

All he wanted to do was rest, but the sweating and shivering disturbed him too much. "I f-feel unstable... Like I'm not really here." His vision was doubled and jittering. This had happened before but not as bad as this for a long time. Even since being here the healer he'd been seeing for a cure was only able to work in drips and drabs.

At least Hannibal was here now, even if he was standing alongside a ghostly figure of Hobbs.

No doctors. Hannibal wondered if Will meant that there were no doctors in this place, or if he was asking Hannibal not to procure medical attention. Either way it was somewhat puzzling.

"Shh," Hannibal hushed again, pressing a hand to Will's forehead, feeling the fever he already knew was there, burning beneath his friend's skin. He smoothed his hand down, then used it to slide Will's eyelids up so he could take a closer look into those eyes, unevenly dilated, whites shot through with red. He could see how the eyes shifted to the side and focused on something that wasn't there, confirming that Will was in fact hallucinating.

"Will, you may not feel like it right now, but I need you to smile."

It was, in honestly, a bit of both. Will didn't trust Doctors much, he didn't want them getting into his head and the fact that there weren't any real doctors in the City.

As Hannibal's hand was pressed against his head, his eyelids pulled at, Will leaned in against the sensation. He was looking for Hannibal's shoulder, watching as Garret Jacob Hobbs stared back, mocking him as he moved closer.

It was Hannibal's words that snapped Will out of it, looking at the man before him, instead of the ghost to his back. A frown furrowed his brow. "Smile?..." He didn't understand. His eyes stung with the tears that continued to well and pool out, why ever would he want to smile? Still, Hannibal must have had his reasons and as grim as he looked, all washed out and slick with sweat, Will pulled a rather creepy looking smile when asked.

Hannibal smiled back, his smile kind, even tender, to put Will as much at ease as possible. He wondered if Will remembered the last time they did this, the last time Hannibal asked Will to smile in order to assess his neurological condition. He had been near insensate, delirious, hallucinating. He was near that now. But his smile, as grim as it was, was symmetrical, signalling that he hadn't had a stroke. Hannibal's fingers went to Will's jugular, taking his pulse, then felt along both sides of Will's neck to feel the lymph nodes.

"How long have you been ill?"

Will let out a silent laugh as Hannibal smiled back at him. It wasn't that it was funny or anything like that, no, it was more that seeing Hannibal actually smile made Will feel a huge sensation of relief. In comparison to the hellish portrayal of the man Will had killed, still standing there as Hannibal performed his tests.

Rolling his jaw when fingers pressed down his throat, it strangely felt nice, soothing like Hannibal was playing keys of a harpsichord instead of checking for abnormalities. It took him a moment to rein in his attention, looking him straight in the eyes for a change, confused as he tried to recall just how long he'd felt like this.

"A month? No... I was ill when I got here... Three months?" He'd had a rather nasty seizure when the God's brought him to this wretched place and since then he'd at two more. It was hard functioning at the best of times. Between the sleep walking and visions that haunted him, Will wasn't doing so good here. "What's wrong with me, Hannibal?... I don't feel real."

Three months. It was a long time to be suffering from encephalitis, and Hannibal wondered if there had been any permanent brain damage. He made a mental note to run a battery of neurological tests on Will, once he had figured out how to treat him.

"I believe you've contracted viral encephalitis again. It's rare for anyone to be stricken with it twice, particularly this intensely, but not entirely unheard of. We need to treat your fever first, then endeavor to relieve the swelling itself."

Screwing his face up and tilting his head aside. Will had to think for a moment, make sure he had just heard Hannibal correctly. "I have... I have encephalitis?" It would explain the sweating, the fever and trouble sleeping. Maybe it could explain his other symptoms too? But how was it that Hannibal was able to identify such an illness without performing extensive tests? A CAT scan? Blood samples? Nothing, just a good look and short fondle of his face and throat.

Will sunk forwards, his head in his hands as slippery as they were. "I don't understand..." Rubbing at his temples and coming back to sit upright beside Hannibal. "You said again ... What do you mean? I've never had encephalitis before..." To think that Hannibal would make such a mistake only confirmed it for Will, that this was not the man he knew. This was not the man he'd been spilling his mind to, it was an imposter, a fake. Someone he'd dreamed up to fill the void of counsel and reason. Nothing but a vivid hallucination.

" Hah.. Of all the people, I can't believe I'd fantasise about you. " Shaking his head as he laughed slightly to himself. "I've lost it... My mind...I can't believe I almost fell for it."

Hannibal watched impassively as Will laughed, not taking offense. "I assure you I'm quite real. I also assure you that you did have encephalitis before. It is...unusual...that it affect your memory to this extent." He tilted his head. "You had encephalitis when we first met, five years ago. It was some time before we were able to confirm the diagnosis."

That is, some time before Will found out what Hannibal had hidden.

Will turned, staring at Hannibal, trying to remember where he was five years ago and if he'd even met Hannibal then. No, no he couldn't recall him, there must have been some mistake. "I was still in Homicide five years ago, Hannibal..." That was right, before settling on teaching for the FBI, Will had been in the Homicide department, the only reason he'd switch jobs at all was because of his inability to take the shot and fire his sidearm. To think that he'd then later allowed himself to unload it ten times into the torso of Hobbs?...

Squinting, frowning and looking more sickly than he had a few moments ago. This was all so taxing on his poor swollen brain. "When was the last time you saw me, Hannibal?... I can't accept that I'd lose as much as five years... I know... I know I have gaps, times I can't recall or feel like a dream... But this?"

Externally, Hannibal remained utterly calm, while in his head wheels were spinning, gears trying to catch and slipping as the information he was given didn't fit together. Five years. If five years for Will was his time in homicide...then that was a long period of time that Will was missing. Then there was the physical oddities...the lack of weather in his face, the wholeness of that cheek that the Red Dragon had laid open.

Could this be more than merely amnesia?

"I saw you yesterday," he said mildly, watching Will's face for recognition. "On the house on the cliffs." Will had dragged Hannibal off those cliffs, but no one would ever be able to tell that from Hannibal's tone. "What's the last thing you remember before this place, Will?"

Nothing but confusion painted Will's pale and wet face. "I've been here for months, y-you couldn't have seen me yesterday." He knew what the so called Gods here had told him about how he arrived at this place, but he didn't realize that time would continue back in his own world. It was all a bit too far-fetched for Will to believe, but having Hannibal here before him, with a different recollection than his own made Will wonder.

"House on the cliffs?" Will shook his head. "No, I don't... I don't remember any place like that, Hannibal." It was the question that he asks last that Will didn't want to address. He could remember the last thing before this place. It was a horrifying and confusing memory. "I er... I was in Minnesota... I took Abigail with me." His breathing became labored, tears welling in his eyes as they dashed back and forth, from side to side. "She... She didn't come back with me. I'd had another episode, hallucinated that I... That I'd killed her. I know I didn't, I know it was just a-" He swallowed, rubbed his throat and looked up at Hannibal with a great sadness and puzzlement in his eyes.

"...You came over. Told me we had to let Jack know, that it would only make it worse if I ran from it- But I didn't do it...I Know I didn't." He could almost taste her flesh, as his stomach acid bubbled at the memory of Abigail's ear.

Hannibal remembered the moment exactly, as he remembered all important moments. The moment when he placed the blood of Abigail's "murder" on Will's hands. When he began the mechanism that would see Will behind glass. And that would hand to Will a rage that he would then turn on Hannibal, much to Hannibal's delight. If this was what Will remembered...then he was not yet certain that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. And he was only beginning to realize his capacity for beautiful violence.

Hannibal sat on the edge of the couch next to Will, his expression contemplative. What was he to do? Will did not yet know that Hannibal was a murderer, that Hannibal had manipulated him even into believing Abigail was dead. But Will also hadn't come to know Hannibal, in that way that Hannibal had discovered he wanted more than perhaps anything else in his life. Should Hannibal maintain his innocence? Or draw back the veil and let Will see, even though he may never understand as he did on the cliffs, the Red Dragon slain, the blood black in the moonlight?

"Will you do me a favor, Will?" he asked quietly. "Will you lift up your shirt and let me see your abdomen?"

Would the scar still be there?

As his mind raced to remember everything from that day, bringing up memories he'd almost forgotten, pushed aside as he embraced this new life he was to live in the underground cave-City. Will started to recall his doubts about Hannibal too, looking Hannibal over, from head to toe.

The things he had seen and experienced in the City hadn't changed Will yet, but he was already finding himself frustrated and angry with those in authority, making a few enemies in the short time he'd been here.

Coming back to reality, Will sighed, rubbed his eyes dry and tried as best as he could, to compose himself. Hannibal was making more requests? First his jacket now he wanted to see his abdomen. The only reason Will could think of, was that it might have something to do with his illness?

"My abdomen? I've er not noticed anything strange.." He spoke as he leaned back against the chair, unbuttoning the bottom few buttons of his shirt and lifting it up. Nothing but pale and clammy, perfectly normal skin. No scars, no fresh wounds. Nothing unusual whatsoever.

The scar wasn't there.

Hannibal reached out and brushed his fingertips over that spot, the spot where he had impaled Will for his friend's betrayal. Where his rage had left Will bleeding his life out onto the floor of his kitchen. And it wasn't there. What did it mean?

"Am I dead?" Hannibal asked softly, looking up at Will, the uncertainty showing in his face, an expression so infrequent that it was possible Will had never seen it on the doctor. "Did I perish in the waves? Is this some hades?"

Edited 2017-01-30 00:28 (UTC)

Will had never seen Hannibal display much of any expression really. The odd flicker of a smile here and there during their sessions and sometimes a glint in his eyes, though Will could never really tell what that meant.

As his bare skin was touched, Will muscles pulled tight, a small shiver and tingle under Hannibal's touch. He wasn't used to the contact- but his attention and concern turned to Hannibal's words.

"I'm at a loss, Hannibal..." First, he was comforting and reassuring Will that he was very much real, now he was asking if he was dead? "Well... If you're dead then I just might be too..." He felt as like death warmed up anyway. Will didn't know what waves Hannibal was talking about but he could relate to the Hades part, this cave acted as a constant living hell at the worst of times.

Leaning forwards, setting a hand on Hannibal's shoulder, Will wanted a better look at his doctor, the sudden change in decorum was rather worrying. "Is everything okay?"

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