ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hadrielmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dankmemes2018-09-20 10:09 am
hadrielmods) wrote in dankmemes2018-09-20 10:09 am
Entry tags:
test drive meme # 36
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 September 24th, and apps are open October 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: GET YOUR RED CAPE READY
[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.
You don't want to ride them- someone already tried that. Near you is a horselike beast, one without any fur or skin or anything that might make it more palatable. It's a Nuckelavee, a Nordic mythological creature which terrorizes the Northern Isles.
This demonic creature seems to embody that of a man merged with a horse- but not in the cute centaurian way. They are natural swimmers and emerge from the deep to drag their prey down into the water with them- so terrible that even the scent of their breath can sap you of all will to live. Better hold your own breath and look out!]
L O V E
SCENARIO TWO: GET YOU SOME
[You don't know where you are or where you're going- or what you're even doing in this strange city on the ocean- but you do know that you need someone by your side to make it better. Even if you don't know them, even if you hate them, there's something comforting to having another person so close to you.
Closer.
Physical contact with another person seems to put your mind completely at ease, erasing all of your worries and doing better for your mind than a hundred meditation sessions. So it's time to get friendly, even if you're not really that friendly of a person in the first place.
This is a mini version of our A Little Touchy Feely event this month.]
SCENARIO THREE: 15 MINUTES LATE WITH
[Good news! Love has decided that since other liquids seem to be all the rage amongst you humans and they somehow learned about Earth agricultural crops, they've decided to open up a coffee shop!
Here's the space to live out all of your coffee shop AUs in a Hadriel setting! With a storm brewing over the island and a merry pink glowcloud somehow creating caffeinated drinks on the spot when you order them, get ready to tuck in and get nice and cozy for a few minutes.
But uh-oh! Your name is misspelled! Or it's someone else's name entirely, but it's your drink. Or something about your order is wrong- whatever the case, Confusion definitely wouldn't just stand around and let Love have their fun. Somehow, everything is wrong in this poor coffeeshop... what are you going to do about it?]
no subject
Seriously? People have been hitting you up for sex?
[He's a little jealous, if he's being honest. No one's propositioning him for sex. What gives?
Wait.]
Oh my god, okay, for the record? I'm not intent on anything over here. I don't do, like, subtle games where me giving you coffee means I'm falling over myself to get in your pants, alright?
[But that little brush of their hands certainly wasn't the worst like maybe they could—no, nope, stop it. Newt is choosing to be above this. Staying in his own personal bubble makes him increasingly itchy and fidgety and, ugh, it's impossible to concentrate, but! He can handle it. It's fine. Totally fine.]
Uh, about a week or so? Week and a half, give or take? So not, uh, forever.
[He's optimistic...?]
no subject
God. She glances away, a muscle in her jaw tensing, glaring at the wall for a few moments.]
Give me your hand.
[Boy, she sure sounds happy about it.]
no subject
He sets down his mug anyway. He doesn't have it in him to refuse, his will buckled quickly from the mix of event-fueled tension and sheer curiosity. And it's just a hand. It's nothing.
He holds out his hand like he's asking her to dance. It's a passive move, a request answered without the potential of overstepping. Another rarity for him. It's purely the curiosity, he tells himself. Not the fear that she'll change her mind and he'll have to retract back into his itchy, lonely little bubble. No, it's the curiosity. That's all.]
no subject
She takes his hand. She interlaces their fingers. And just like that, everything in her just melts.
She'd been right in thinking of it like a drug, she thinks faintly. The effect is instantaneous, a high unlike any other. All her fears disappear in an instant; her eyes widen, and without thinking she takes a step forward, and another, pressing in close as though they've known each other for years.]
1/2 oops
She moves toward him and he automatically reaches for her other hand. It's a simple need, that's all. All the nerves and desperation and uncertainty blew out of him as soon as their fingers met. Will two hands double that effect? It's a theory worth exploring.
His hand finds hers and, yes, there's another glorious wave of calm. He hadn't realized until now just how badly he's been fidgeting since the event started. All this energy with nowhere to go, and now it's gone, and he's blissfully still. He wouldn't mind if this event lasted forever, come to think of it.
He leans in, tilting his head down toward her, basking in the quiet. They're close enough that he can feel her breath against his skin. She smells nice, he realizes. It's not often that things smell nice around the lab. His brand of science is filthy work.]
Hey.
[He opens his eyes, not sure when he closed them in the first place, and meets her gaze with a smile.]
:')
no subject
What is she doing?
She pulls her hands back sharply, inhaling sharply for how awful it feels.]
I doubt it. The, ah, the point is to encourage contact with others, yes? There'd be no point if we could touch a piece of meat.
no subject
Whatever. Fine. He picks up his mug again just for something to do with his hands.]
Well, the point is to generate love. Affection. Whatever you want to call it. So why wouldn't it work if you were touching something inanimate that you loved? Even if it won't, it should, unless there's something we're missing.
no subject
[She says it too quickly, trying to move past the moment as quickly as possible. Besides: he's right. It would be good to test this, see what the limits are; perhaps she can pass this next week with nothing but some tea.]
no subject
[It's a fair question, especially in response, but it blindsides him like these questions always do. Something about the way she blurts it makes him squirm. He takes a sip of his coffee to buy himself some time, and then picks at a chip in the ceramic with his fingernail.]
Not much around here, if I'm being honest. I guess you could say I love my monsters. Not the dead ones, that'd be weird. Touching those guys would not be a good idea though, no matter how bad this event gets.
[He laughs. Would the third degree burns be worth it? Will this event escalate to make that sound like a good idea? He might be in some trouble down the road.]
So, that leaves my keyboard. I could give that a shot. What about you?
no subject
[The truth is, she loves nothing here. It's been forty-eight hours since she stumbled out of that doorway, and in that time, she's experienced nothing but misery and, just now, a false sort of sedative calm. What she loves has been left behind, and there's no point in speculating on it now.
The lab is the only tolerable place. It's the only location where she feels even remotely soothed.
She takes her coffee and strides over the floor, leading the way (blindly, frankly, she has no idea where he keeps his things).]
And if it doesn't work . . . I suppose we'll go from there.
no subject
[It's a good plan! What is not a good plan is picking a random direction and starting off without him. He just kind of watches her move through the lab, trying to pry his eyes away from the fingers wrapped around her coffee mug and failing.]
I don't keep it here. You know how many idiots come through this lab? Someone would definitely mess with it.
[Instead, he starts for the door, waving for her to follow.]
My place is like five minutes away.
no subject
She should say no, she thinks, but even as she does, she realizes she can't. What will happen if she says no? They'll stay in the lab, and maybe they'll work and maybe not, but sooner or later this addiction will get the better of them. She'll take him by the hand or worse, and they'll be in the exact same place they'd begun.
So. So better to go and experiment, and perhaps it will turn out for the better. Perhaps they'll find that items do work as well as people, and he can sate himself on his keyboard while she . . . figures something else out.
So she follows him out the door, abandoning her coffee mug as she does.]
Do you live on your own?
no subject
Nah, I have a roommate. I had this big place all to myself so I could keep my monsters? But then this old guy was looking for a place to stay... I'm renting him a room, I guess. He's part of the Russian mob, or something. He's cool.
[And as promised, it's just a couple of minutes before they're at his wonky little house in one of the spiraling residential streets.
It's about what you'd expect from Newt if the lab is anything to go by. Half of the dining table has been overrun with stacks of notes and diagrams and odd models built out of Null scrap metal. Monster organs and teeth and eyeballs float serenely in jars on the kitchen counter, shoved into one corner by an irritated roommate who just wanted to make breakfast. One of the four bedroom doors is open, and it's clearly Newt's room, the bed unmade and the floor barely visible under all the papers and clothing. Of the closed doors, one is marked with various DO NOT ENTER and DANGER signs, some scribbled in what could only be Newt's handwriting and some drawn in crayon by a significantly younger hand. Beyond the door, something is growling softly.
The keyboard is set on the coffee table in the living room, the only truly clear area of the house. His roommate pays rent in housekeeping.]
Yeah, looks like Semiyon's out. I doubt he'll be around to bug us anytime soon.
[This is good news, right?]
no subject
Soon, she promises herself. Soon, when she isn't also itching to run her fingers through his hair.]
. . . all right.
[Is it good or bad his roommate isn't around? Bad, in that it leaves them less reason to stay apart, but good, in that if she ends up making a fool of herself, the only witness is a scientist she's certain she can bully into silence.
Carefully, her hands fastidious, she picks some kind of sticky . . . thing . . . off a seat and settles in. One leg crosses over the other, and she nods expectantly at him.]
Go on.
no subject
[Newt's more nervous than he should be. Not just because Rosalind is here, but because there's a strong possibility that he's wrong. If this was how the event worked, someone would've realized it by now, wouldn't they? He's fallen into the trap of not thinking things through again. This was a stupid idea.
But, well. They're already here. He sits down on the couch next to her, hunched forward so he can get at the keyboard. He touches a finger to one of the keys, and gives it a second, even though he knows having to give it a second means it's a failure. He didn't have to give it a second with Rosalind.]
Hm. Nothing. Hold on.
[Pressing one key is not making music, so maybe...? He starts a song, playing the first minute or so to really give it a fair shot at working. When it doesn't, he stops abruptly, collapsing backward onto the couch with a huff.]
Nope. Didn't work even a little bit. Laaame.
no subject
[She hisses it out quietly, glaring at the keyboard as though it's the instrument's fault. (The fact he can play it so well is interesting, and perhaps someday soon she'll pursue that, but not right now).]
. . . then we've little choice, I suppose. But I warn you now, I shan't-- this isn't an invitation for anything other than the barest of touches.
no subject
Yeah, of course. It's just a functional thing. Because of the event.
[He shrugs like it's no big deal. In a way, it's not. He's far from the type to make a fling out to be more than what it is. But this isn't a fling, is it? This is a utility, leaning on each other out of necessity because of this thing the city has imposed on them. That's all.
Though it does feel more than that, oddly. It's probably just the event talking, but it does ratchet up his nerves when he reaches for her hand. It's the event, or it's her tone, the way she sounds so disappointed that it's come to this, that she's reduced to relying on him for relief. This last resort status is not one he likes very much.
He stops short of taking her hand, wondering if that would break her "barest of touches" rule, and instead nudges his forearm against hers. Physically, it's not quite satisfying, but as far as the event is concerned? It does the job well enough. He sighs, settling more comfortably into the couch.]
no subject
I appreciate the consideration . . . but this is more efficient.
[Ah. Her voice sounds terribly dreamy, and she thinks about that as their fingers slide between each other, gripping tightly.]
Isn't it?
no subject
Yeah, good call. Good call.
[He lifts their hands briefly in a lazy hurrah and then lets them drop onto the cushion again. He could fall asleep like this, if she'd let him, which she wouldn't. Instead, his eyes drift out of focus as he watches her breathe. The steady rise and fall is enough to distract him away from policing his mouth.]
You think it gets better when you do more with another person? Like, if this is what holding hands feels like... Y'know.
[It's, technically, an innocent question. He'd be lying if he claimed he wasn't thinking about the progression with her, but he's by no means suggesting they actually press forward with it. It's nice to think about, that's all. And potentially worth exploring in the future, when she hasn't literally just told him to avoid getting his hopes up.]
no subject
Are you hoping I'll suddenly suggest we experiment with that?
no subject
No!
[...]
Not necessarily! I'm just spitballing. You know, trying to find some logic in this. You can't tell me that theory doesn't make sense.
no subject
[Actually, it does make sense. She has no doubt he's also fueled by lust, but he's right: it would be interesting to see if their feeling of enjoyment only grew the more they touched one another.
Hmm.]
Roll up your sleeve.
obligatory sleeve rolling icon is a go
[It takes him a moment to realize she's going for it. Nice. Score one for Newt's persuasion skills, which are virtually nonexistent.
He obediently rolls up his sleeve, taking care not to let go of her hand in the process. He imagines he's in the clear regardless, but he doesn't want to risk letting go and then having her change her mind. Once the sleeve is up, he settles his arm back against hers.]
Hm. I think it's, like, slightly better? You getting anything?
[He's not discouraged by the lack of response, though. The difference between an arm and a hand is minute. This theory needs further experimentation to rule it out completely.]
*o jeez*
[It is better. Barely, but the increased contact most definitely has an affect. Damn, though on a scientific scale she's fascinated. But damn, she thinks, because not only is he right, but he might be smug about it, which is tiresome.]
Other hand, please.
(no subject)