dankmemes | Test Drive Meme #32

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!test drive

Test Drive Meme #32

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 May 25th, and apps are open June 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: HONK HONK
[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.

Hope you're not afraid of clowns!

Evil Clowns have been a terror on the imagination of children everywhere, and show up enough times in literature for us to reasonably say that plenty of adults are afraid of them too. While they love to laugh, they often bring themselves joy by murdering others and slicing them up with the sharp knives and other torture devices that they have tucked away in their seventeen pockets.

It's not difficult to outrun them, as they have big, squeaky shoes, but it might be difficult to fight them- these bastards are hardy!]

F E A R

SCENARIO TWO: MISSING SOMETHING?
[You may arrive in Hadriel... well, incomplete. Though some may reassure you that it's temporary, there's still something terrifying in suddenly losing your sight or your hearing... or even you arm!

While this event does not affect memories, it does affect body parts, senses, and potentially powers and abilities. You may find yourself unable to do things you once did, or behave the way you normally do.

This is a mini version of our Senses Fail event this month.]

T R A N Q U I L I T Y

SCENARIO THREE: MAY FLOWERS
[You're in a beautiful garden. The sun is shining, the grass is green, and there are hundreds of thousands of flowers all around you. The temperature is just perfect, and above all else, it's satisfying.

Maybe you should pick some flowers for a friend, or your mother- you did skip mother's day, after all. Luckily, there's a few cutting shears to go around and you're more than welcome to start hacking away at these thistley bushes! Hopefully you know a thing or two about flower arranging- maybe that person over there is more experienced?]

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SCENARIO ONE: HONK HONK

[A tall, pale young woman with sharp features, a nose slightly too long in the bridge, long black hair and deep, sullen violet eyes comes to in the middle of the coliseum, wearing dirty clothes and already bruised and bloody. She pushes herself up carefully, not looking afraid as much as confused, and a little annoyed.

Running turns out to be a great option. In fact, it's such a great option that it's the one that the entirely unarmed young woman takes, once she's scrambled up to her feet and taken stock of what is going on around her. Each time one of the clowns gets close, she strafes off and dodges to one side. Did she bump into you? Don't mind the way she lashes out and takes a swipe right for your head before trying to keep on moving.]

SCENARIO TWO: MISSING SOMETHING?

[She's holding the pen, but it's not working. Poison has already come to terms with the fact that her abilities as Hierophant - the one who writes the destinies of all Realms - have no use here just as they didn't in the last place she ended up, but...]

I can't... [She mutters, fumbling the pen in her fingers like she's forgotten how to hold it. It drops from her hand and rolls across the table, dropping to the floor with a soft clatter.

Poison feels her face grow hot, her throat tightening with suppressed frustration.]

I hate this place!

SCENARIO THREE: MAY FLOWERS

[Those who know Poison will know her as a sullen young woman who is quick to anger. A young woman who speaks little of herself and the horrors endured in whatever place she was subjected to before this one. Opinionated (loudly so), sharp-tongued and quick-witted.

They could hardly expect her to be found sitting in the middle of a garden, contentedly making a daisy chain threaded here and there with bluebells. There's a small smile on her face as she works on it, and as you draw close, she offers it up without looking.]

Here, you can have this one. I've finished it.

Edited 2018-05-21 19:05 (UTC)

[ The offer gives Jacopo pause enough that he stops and takes it, spellbound. Michelle would've liked this. The colors would've shone against her hair, contrasted against her red eyes. Damn, what a fool he was--

And now he's here, and he can't search for her.

He grips the flowers tighter for a moment, then holds it out to Poison. ]

I don't have anyone to give it to, and I won't wear it myself.

[She looks puzzled for a moment, but lets her hand drop and leaves the chain in a neat coil in the grass beside her knees.]

Mm, fine. It's not a pride thing, is it?

[You know, because boys and flowers, etc.]

Hmph.

[ So what if it is????

...it is. But he's also got something else on his mind. ]

It reminds me of someone-- important to me. I don't expect you to understand.

[ Jacopo you don't even know this person why are you like this. ]

Edited (me, hours later: but what if i added something else? sry abt me) 2018-05-22 00:20 (UTC)

Honk Honk

[ This is a nightmare. Jake has literally had nightmares about this. Okay not specifically the part where he wakes up in a strange place but the group of creepy as hell knife wielding clowns has definitely played a part. Okay, this is cool. He’s got this. It’s just a bunch of scary clowns. ]

Oh come on! I thought the whole creepy clown phase was done! [ Alright, so this is happening. Great. He draws his gun on one of the clowns ] NYPD! Drop the knife and put your hands in the air!

[ Surprisingly the clown complies. Only to pull an improbably large machete out of its pocket. ]

What? That’s so much worse!

Missing Something

[ This entire place is the WORST. Sure, New York is dirty, smelly and has a ton of crime but he also never woke up missing his arm. It’s just gone! And it’s his dominant hand which means everything is even worse. It’s left him fumbling for everything and he can’t even button up his shirts properly. Don’t even get him started on how hard pants are one handed.

On the other hand, it’s given him a lot of opportunities for some truly terrible jokes. ]

You know, I used to think I was alright. Now I'm all left. Get it? Because my right arm is gone. [ He grins, totally unrepentant. ] Sorry, I’m armless, I swear.

A joke like that ought to be put out to pasture.

[Jack simply looks unimpressed, though perhaps amused given the young man's apparent ease with his current predicament. He can appreciate his ability to roll with the punches, at least.]

Edited 2018-05-22 00:19 (UTC)

[Jack bends to pick up the pen then simply holds it out to her]

It seems someone has a mighty burr under their saddle.

[ Unfortunately for everyone, Jake included, this is not a nightmare. Hadriel could certainly be described that way most of the time, but there are some people, good people, who've made it more than that for Drake at least. He gives back as much as he can, and that includes showing up at the colosseum to help the new arrivals every month. If he's also hoping to run into certain other people... well. That'd be nice but he's not holding his breath.

This month's piggybacking monsters seem to be evil clowns, which are creepy as fuck but don't seem as dangerous as a lot of other things that have come in. They can't run after the newbies very effectively in their big floppy shoes, so most people are making their way out of the colosseum without much trouble. But there are always some folks who opt for fight rather than flight, so Drake moves against the tide and glances around. Just in time to spot this stranger pulling a sidearm and shouting orders at a monster like he's making an arrest. NYPD, huh? Go figure. Drake doesn't think he's ever actually crossed paths with another cop here.

Better keep him from getting his head chopped off. The clown waddles forward with a machete and the cop stands his ground. A terrible decision, really. ]

Hey! Officer, this way! Trust me, just leave it!

You're right, that was terrible. The really good jokes cost and arm and a leg.

[ Is he sorry? Not in the least. At least if he keeps joking he won't be freaking out over losing an arm for absolutely not reason. ]

SCENARIO TWO: MISSING SOMETHING?

[The world was no completely gone. It existed behind a murky haze, shapes and figures indistinguishable in the mists. Darkness at least meant ignorance, but this brought an awareness of someone's proximity, a knowledge someone was close by but offering no way to see them. Sight could never guarantee a sense of whether someone was kind or wicked, but she could at least see the intent in their eyes.

Everything stood on edge as the figure stepped closer to her. They were a shadow, opaque against the thick mist before her eyes. Half-blind. That was what this had to be, but even in telling herself this, it didn't remove the fear or shock at what was happening.

If she wasn't weak before, she was now reduced to relying on mewling for sympathy, as though begging for help would do any good. She knew how the world worked now.]

Who's there? Don't come any closer.

SCENARIO THREE: MAY FLOWERS

[Gardens and beauty lost their appeal for Jeyne. These softer moments offered little in relief and gave no shelter from the mind. In looking at them, all she could wonder was how long until something else happened, some other fear took hold or another attack came. There was no such thing as tranquility. It was an illusion to pacify while the rest of the world prepared and ready for battle.

In her hands, the flowers seemed wilted and faded, nothing like the blooms she remembered from her childhood. They didn't even smell as strongly as they used to.

She set a bouquet aside, giving a small sigh of defeat.]

Would you like these? I thought they were something I could use to brighten my room, but I don't know if I want them now.

one fear.

Clowns. Of course it's clowns, that just how Jason's shitty luck rolls, isn't it. They're obviously not the Joker - not even close - but the pasty, grinning faces and deranged laughter are reminiscent enough of his murderer to send a shiver down the back of his neck and make his stomach churn unpleasantly.

Well, unfortunately for these (ass)clowns, Jason isn't one to back down from a fight. He may not have his helmet or body armor, but he does have knives, and he's plenty lethal with just his bare hands. The first clown to come within swiping distance gets Jason's booted feet planted firmly planted on those nice, big, squeaky shoes while Jason maneuvers his arm around the clown's neck, twists hard on its jaw, and plunges a knife directly into its throat.

"Who's laughing now," he mutters through clenched teeth, dropping the limp body unceremoniously to the ground. Nothing to see here, folks. Everything is just fine!!

two fears.

Jason was taught how to lipread as a kid, but it's been a while since he's needed to actually employ that particular skill. No time like the present apparently, since he suddenly can't hear a damn thing. #thanksfear

What's more frustrating than the actual absence of sound is the total lack of explanation for it; there's no cause immediately apparent, no deafening explosion in close proximity, nothing Jason can pinpoint as the reason for his sudden deafness. There's a measure of autonomy over his own body that's missing, and he doesn't even know who to punch for it.

Anyone who attempts conversation with Jason will catch him squinting in concentration as he struggles to make out the words spoken, and might be questioned with a rather loud "What?"

"What the bastion fuck?!"

The only basis Rook has for "clowns" is the street shows of Punch and Judy, but by now he is very familiar with the concept of 'monsters with teeth.' He spots a familiar darting figure and lunges in to trip up a clown as it tries to grab her, knives gleaming. A slash, a brief struggle and kuck and he's free again, darting back with a quickness belied by his bulk.

He's swearing, lasped back into Volstovic, the sharp gutteral syllables of his native tongue.

[ What is it about clowns that's just so freaking creepy? Why did people ever decide that this was the best possible thing to invite to a kid's birthday party? The gravity of being menaced by a slowly advancing clown is undercut by the fact that there's an undeniable squeak happening with each step.

This has to be a hall of fame encounter. Being threatened by a creepy clown with giant squeaky shoes. Amy would love it. Charles would probably tell a weird story about clowns. Rosa... Rosa would probably have already kicked its ass.

He hesitates to pull the trigger and when he hears someone calling him he makes the decision and does a tactical retreat. A nice way of saying he backs away until he's out of machete distance and then ~~runs~~ jogs towards Drake. ]

Heyyy, quick question! Actually, several: What the hell is going on? Is it bath salts? Did bath salts finally leave florida? Oh and where am I?

[ If Jake were actually asking, Drake would say that there's an innate wrongness to anyone who acts that over-the-top happy, or on the flipside looks like they should be happy and acts sinister. And Drake's never been a fan of face paint in any context, honestly. But Jake didn't actually ask, so Drake just keeps waving new arrivals in the direction of the exit, and exhales with relief when the cop backs down and runs towards him instead of continuing to face down the killer clown. ]

Come on, this way. They're monsters, not people, but they'll be driven out of the city within a day so if we can outrun them it's better to not waste the ammo. Nobody does bath salts, that cannibal guy was just crazy.

[ Though... it's also pretty strange to be talking about something like the Miami cannibal attack. Is this guy actually from his universe? It's obviously not impossible, just so rare that Drake's hesitant to hope for it. Easier to keep answering the usual questions instead, as he hustles the stranger out of the colosseum. ]

You're in Hadriel. There's a welcome guide that'll probably explain it better than I can but it's a lot to take in. Cliffnotes: you got sucked in by a portal opened by godlike alien creatures that need help fighting a war. And no, I'm not crazy.

Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

[ He's definitely not freaking out. No freaking out here. This is a dream, this has to be a dream. He fell asleep watching something stupid on TV or listening to Amy talking about some nerdy book she loves.

He tests his sleeping theory the way any reasonable human being would. He slaps himself in the cheek. ]

Ow. [ Don't mind him, handsome stranger. Just trying to wake up. Totally normal, just gotta try slapping his cheeks a few more times. ] That really hurts! Why am I not awake yet?

Edited 2018-05-22 05:29 (UTC)

[ ....okay, this guy is on the verge of losing it. Not uncommon, but also less than optimal. Drake gives him a sympathetic grimace for the moment, then once they're outside beneath the blazing double suns he points up at them. ]

Sorry, buddy. We're not in New York anymore. I mean, you're not, I've actually never been. [ He offers a hand in introduction, not really expecting the freaked out stranger to take it but. Ma raised him polite. ] Drake Holloway, Seattle PD. I've been stuck here for nearly a year.

[These last days -- the ones since he woke up without any memory of how to wield Longclaw -- have been hard for Jon, and his attempts to supplant his sword with a bow or a spear haven't gone any better.

Others might be of more use in the Coliseum, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't want to help where he can, only that his ability to do so might be impeded. Apart from that, he wants to keep an eye on who's coming in. Not many people of any personal interest to him, so far, but if Arya can be here, or Father, he wants to see them. And if someone like Cersei Lannister turns up, he wants his sister and the others to know as soon as he can tell them.

This girl catches his eye because she's dressed in a way that's completely familiar to him, like some kind of highborn lady... like the ones he shares a home with, even, but he doesn't recognize her face. Still, what's happening to her is very clear to him, because it's been happening all over the place in these last days.

She can't see, or she can't see well.

He doesn't come too close, but he does speak in the sort of voice he'd use to try to calm a frightened animal. Or at least to avoid upsetting them any further.]

Don't be frightened, my lady. My name is Jon Snow.

Can you see anything at all?

Edited 2018-05-22 09:45 (UTC)

That is too many suns.

[ Why are there that many suns? His brain hurts. He squints up at the sun in dismay because this is starting to feel really real. What the hell!

It's mostly autopilot that has him clasping Drake's hand. ] Jake Peralta. Are you sure I'm not having a nervous breakdown?

You're telling me. Honestly, I preferred when the city was stuck in a cave, but shit went down and we had to relocate to the surface. We're gonna move again soon, too, not sure what that'll be like... but for now I hope you don't mind the heat.

[ Drake's grip is firm and hopefully reassuring. He's pretty excellent at seeming like he has his shit together even when he doesn't, especially these days, in no small part because experience has taught him it keeps others calm too. Which is something his new acquaintance desperately needs. ]

I'm very sure. This place will try to push you to one, though, you've gotta keep it together. Do you want a history lesson or a tour, or just a stiff drink?

What's that supposed to mean.

[She squints at him, slightly challenging but with her usual ire oddly tempered by the scenario she's currently sitting in.]

You're not the only person who ever lost somebody. Don't be so rude.

[She looks at the pen, but doesn't take it. It seems she'd prefer to glare at it instead.]

I can't read. I can't write anything.

[This place. She hates it so much. The monsters and hostile environment in general is one thing, but to take away the one thing that she feels makes her the person she is?]

I could yesterday, before you try to be funny.

There's a flash of dyed blue braids and harsh curses in a voice she recognises so very well, and in the moments after Poison darts clear of the clown she wheels 'round and grins despite the situation.

"Rook! It's about time." What took you so long, tough guy? She holds up a hand.

"Toss me a knife."

■fear two■

[His cloak is billowing; the hood on it is down, draped about his shoulders. The cloak would be more imposing if it weren't white—here it looks regal in a fairy tale way, like something maybe holy, like something maybe grand, but its color and its moving shape have the potential to be humbling. The rich red tassels, the golden accents... how pretty. Underneath the cloak is at odds with it. His body is slender and belongs to neither masculinity nor femininity in particular. It's also outlined completely, if you can catch glimpses where his cloak parts. The body suit is black, and its accents are more stark: here and there are bars of bright red, with a glow easily gone unnoticed. His sandals and his rings are the same sort of claim: elegant, but only a little ostentatious.

He has no head.]

Your assistance, [he says—that must be him, because he's gesturing, one set of his fingertips set fern-soft against his own chest, the other held out gently toward the person he has found. His voice is a wafting sort of thing with a weight of inevitability to it: it's like watching a feather make its way toward the ground. His body in general seems to be in good order, even with his bone-white skin and ethereal bearing. But his neck ends abruptly. There's no blood, no bone, nothing like tissue—the cutoff shows a green-yellow surface, and if you look closely enough, you'd see this surface constantly shifting, just minute. It glows a little. It doesn't look like something that could be real.]

I cannot find it. [The voice isn't coming from the body. That feather wafts over from the left, and then the source comes into view. This must be his head. His face matches the rest of him. His hair is white in the way of his skin, and unkempt; his eyes resemble the red highlights on his clothes; his ears carry a gold sparkle where they're pierced. His expression would almost be impassive, but there's an angling of his eyebrows. If you expect emotional output from him, this angle must be hard to catch; but for Yaha-kui zaShunina, the crease pressing into his brow feels like a groove of grave perplexity.

He clarifies,] My head. [But that can't really make it clearer.] There is no reason for this to have happened. The head I had here is unable to be located by myself at this time. [This head, the one hovering and speaking like a sermon, floats closer to his body.] Have you seen it elsewhere? It appears the same as this one.

■tranquility■

[zaShunina is markedly less of a body horror this time, with his head looking to be securely attached. He's sitting amongst the flowers, and despite his countenance—the clothing both futuristic and reminiscent of ancient worships—he looks like he should be here. Maybe there's some resemblance between himself and the flowers. Maybe if flowers had a sound, zaShunina would sound like them, too, in movement and in energy.

He isn't picking the flowers, mind you. He's arranged within them like a delicate piece of idolatry. As if to emphasize this image of purity, there's a bird upon his knee. He's looking at it with a quiet wonder, soft and white as daisy petals, though his eyes and mouth are intent as well. The bird in question happens to be a jabberjay, and it looks like it and zaShunina have been talking to each other for a little while, now. The bird says,] An unnatural thing. [It's in zaShunina's flat, floaty voice. He nods.] An unnatural thing. [And then the bird tilts its head at zaShunina, blinking in that birdish way, and begins speaking in various voices it has heard around the city.

zaShunina copies each of them just as precisely—tone, pitch, quality of voice... they're going back and forth with each other, with the jabberjay fluttering every so often before producing another sound, and zaShunina ringing it back clearly. Any voice that could easily be heard around the city will eventually come out of the both of their mouths.

But when someone draws nearer, zaShunina and the bird both look up. zaShunina remains at rest; the bird rustles itself, hops a bit, but stays at zaShunina's knee. They say in perfect unison, with zaShunina's voice,]

Hello.

Edited 2018-05-22 17:17 (UTC)

Who are you to tell me what to do? [ Idk bro maybe she's, you know, not a jackass LIKE YOU. ] It's useless, making your flower rings. A waste of time.

[ Somebody is... too angry to just find some chill in Tranquility's garden. It'll take him a little. As it is, he's not as angry as he could be, oddly enough. ]

They won't bring your special person back.

I'm the person telling you not to be so rude. I don't have to talk to you, you know.

[She very pointedly picks up another couple of flowers, threading them together without looking as she stares him right in the eyes.]

Thinking about the lost is better than trying to forget them. How a person wants to do that isn't your place to criticise. Is it.

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Test Drive Meme #32

Poison | Poison (Chris Wooding novel) | The Box CRAU

tranquility

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jake peralta | brooklyn 99

Missing Something

2

honk!!!

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Jeyne Westerling | A Song of Ice and Fire

jason todd | dc comics + crau | will match format

1

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Missing Something?

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Yaha-kui zaShunina | Kado: The Right Answer | cw: body horror / decapitation

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