Test Drive Meme # 1

[hadrielmods]

Welcome to Hadriel's very first 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.

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!

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: ANYONE GOT A LIGHT?
[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 on the rooftops watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to separate you from your group and tear you into pieces. In this instance, the door has managed to grab something truly horrific, and it's definitely out for blood (and brains) tonight.

Smokers are enemies in the video game series Left 4 Dead, who use their prehensile tongues to capture unwitting people and either drag them away for consumption or hang them up to strangle them. With all of the activity of characters trying to find out what's going on and where they are, there are more than a few of them, lingering in the shadows and waiting to try strike at anyone who may be lagging behind.]


SCENARIO TWO: YOUR HEART WILL GO ON
[You awaken in a windowless room, the walls strangely curved. The door, when you try it, is quite firmly locked. No amount of force is able to break through, so it seems to be sealed by supernatural means. Next to the door stands a slender pedestal, about as big around as a large man's thigh. At the top of the pedestal is a indentation, as if something were meant to go there.

But you're not alone in this room. There are two things with you: a person and a corpse. Pinned to the body is a note: Place a heart on the pedestal to leave. Tucked neatly into the corpse's pocket is a letter opener, small and not particularly sharp.

Did you have weapons or tools on you before? You don't now. But look at it this way: what better form of bonding is there than helping a friend or stranger dig a heart out of a corpse with nothing but a letter opener and your bare hands?]


H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: HAVE YOU HAD YOUR BREAK-IN TODAY?
[You're standing outside a storefront, colored glass set into intricate designs. It's beautiful, artistic, but more importantly - there's definitely food inside. Good food, too, by the glimpses you can see through the window. In fact - wait a minute - isn't that your favorite dish in there, just waiting for you? You've been searching for food for hours, it seems, and the city is bare. Your tummy is getting awful rumbly. What luck!

You try the door. Cruelly, it is locked. The food taunts you, just out of reach.

The glass is lovely, intricate, but it's just glass. Or maybe you know how to pick locks. Or maybe there's a back way in. Or maybe some passing friend will be able to help you. There's a lot of options here, if what you really want is a mouthful of the finest... whatever it is you like.]

Comments

eyes rutherford | spiral: the bonds of reasoning.

[tearless]

fear; two

[ For someone who woke up looking into the cold face of a corpse, Eyes appears to be calm, almost eerily so as he slowly rises to better sitting position. Sharp eyes slowly scan his surroundings, and it doesn't escape him that there is someone else here even if he seems to not acknowledge that other presence. For all he knew, it could be just as dead as the body.

For a moment he touches the area of his heart and presses down upon it tentatively, holding his hand over the still dark and wet area in silence. Then, apparently satisfied with whatever it was he had just done, he... proceeds to hover over the body, clearly not disturbed by being so close to it. If the way he runs his fingers along the clothing is any indication, he's not afraid to touch it either.

Hopefully the other person in the room wouldn't be too prudent about his behaviour, because he doesn't particularly care at the moment as he rummages through the clothing. What mattered most was finding answers. ]

hope; one

[ There was no secret about it; his eating habits were abysmal, and too often the musician would forget to eat unless some more observant soul were to remind him. But he did have his moments, and what an absolute coincidence it was that he happened to pass by a store that seemed to have food he would favour more.

... Except the door is locked. Now, he isn't going to be breaking windows or anything, but look at this helpful fellow passing along. Just a moment, he wants to ask you a question. ]

If I were to use a switchblade to break this glass, how long do you think it would take? [ Call it rhetorical. ]

hope

[fervence]

What? Hey, don't do that, someone worked hard on that glass-- and you could get hurt besides!

[call it a difference in philosophy or what have you, but lloyd and 'rhetorical' have never exactly seen eye to eye with each other. or lloyd doesn't, anyway, because how do you see something that isn't there anyway? doesn't make any sense to him at all.

on the other hand 'helpful fellow' isn't an entirely inaccurate way to describe lloyd under any circumstance. in fact, you'd be hard pressed to find a fellow more helpful than him.] Did you need something from inside? Because I can get you in without having to break anything.

fear

[vapidfloozy]

[Inigo is disoriented, confused. He's at the door, tugging at the handle, getting steadily more disturbed when it doesn't budge at all. His eyes flicker to the other person in the room, and his apparent - well, comfort around the body on the floor.

He just watches for a second. Honestly, Inigo's seen his fair share of dead bodies - more than his fair share, probably. It doesn't bother him all that much, even if it is strange to wake up here with one. The locked door is more disturbing.]

Looking for something?

hope

[dure]

No idea. Never really tried breaking in to anything before.

[ he steps aside from the glass window though, in case this guy decides to do something violent. ]

Where'd you even find a switchblade?

zelos wilder | tos

[fafnirs]

❰ SCENARIO 2 ❱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ

❰ there's nothing quite like a little bit of bleeding out and dying to give you the biggest crick in your neck. it's the first thing zelos notices when he wakes up, the stiff neck and the mounting headache somewhere in the back of his skull. it has a sluggish hand lifting to massage at his neck even before he opens his eyes, along with a plaintive whine-groan in the back of his throat. this is bullshit. it's- cheap. they killed him. he wasn't supposed to wake up from it.

he lifts up onto his elbow now, an eye cracking to get an eyeful of wherever it is he's at. not where he was last, that's for sure. beyond that, zelos finds he actually doesn't much care. not beyond the abrupt notion that he actually has no idea what happened with lloyd and colette and them. it wasn't something he actually put a ton of thought into beyond pointing them in the right direction. i mean, he was gonna be dead, right? so it's not like it mattered too much one way or the other.

except now it does. don'tcha just hate that?

right about now, the corpse smell trickles into his nostrils, and zelos's nose curls in disgust as he zeroes in on the source. yep, that sure is a dead guy. not too gross yet, but he's definitely never met any living guy who smells that much like cold balloon rubber and evacuated bowels. ❱

Looks rough, ❰ he offers the corpse, as if it's any consolation. but - hang on, there's a piece of paper? a note. zelos rolls over onto his knees to crawl a little closer, reaching out to flatten the note a little with his fingertips so he can look it over. ❱

So much for a last will and testament, ❰ he mutters, then finally lifts his eyes to the third figure in the room. did he just notice they were there, or has he known all along? it's hard to tell, since he seems pretty unfazed one way or the other. ❱ 'Place a heart on the pedestal to leave' huh? Not so sure I'm packing one these days, so it looks like it's gonna have to be his or yours.

❰ SCENARIO 3 ❱ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ ɢᴏ ᴀʟʟ-ᴏᴜᴛ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

❰ well.

well.

either this is some kind of complicated and compeletely unfair trick, or beyond this window sits a pastry feast fit for the king. zelos would know. he's seen the king's feasts - in fact, he ate at most of them - and since finding the door locked, he's spent more than long enough staring at these delicious pastries to positively identify them.

in fact, depending on how soon you happen upon him, you very well may find zelos with his face and palms pressed firmly against the glass. listen closely and you might hear him murmuring: ❱

Alright my delicate little sugarpies, come to papa, that's right -

❰ not that they're... actually 'coming to papa' or anything. just sitting there and looking more delicious by the second.

ugh, this is the worst.

he backs up off of the glass now, hands coming to rest on his hips as he looks over the fine craftsmanship for any noticeable vulnerabilities. no such luck, as it turns out. too bad it won't be so perfect for long.

come upon the scene now, and you'll find the redhead tugging his gloves on tighter and taking another step back, his hand falling on the hilt of the dagger at his thigh.

if you've got any kind of attachment to that immaculate glasswork, you might want to speak up now. ❱

2

[hopecanruinyou]

[it hurts, in a way. to be so close to someone who died so recently and not be able to do anything about it. not like in an emotional way, though thom doesn't care how many situations he gets called out to with the team, he's never going to be okay with seeing people hurt but.

physically. it hurts. he feels like he should be able to do something. fix something.

but all there is here for him in this room is one dead body and one living one, and neither of them are bleeding anywhere obvious for him to patch up. yet, anyway. thom wonders if his powers can knit back together already dead flesh, if there's even a point in trying.]

You have a heart. [thom tells the stranger with a sigh and a squint in his direction to be sure just in case. everything about this place seems to call for a 'just in case'.] I'd definitely be able to tell if you didn't. [he pales slightly a second after.] N-not that I'm saying we should use your heart. Or mine either. The dead guy.

We should... definitely. Use the dead guy. Oh god, that sounds terrible. [don't mind him, he's just going to bury his head in his hands and wait for this to all be over, okay thanks.]

captain hook — once, crau from checkingin

[villainously]

SCENARIO ONE: ANYONE GOT A LIGHT?

( now is not the time to mess with Captain Hook.

he's found himself in a new place, and most alarmingly, he's found himself there alone. he doesn't know how that came to happen, and he surely doesn't bloody know what he's meant to do against monsters when he showed up unarmed. he tried to linger where he arrived as long as he possibly could, hoping desperately that someone might follow — someone from the hotel, and most specifically Emma — but they never do and the wretched creature that appeared with him? didn't seem friendly.

now, well, now he's not sure where he's going. he's looking for something, answers, a friendly face, anything would be better than dark streets and uncertainty. the problem with walking about alone, well, that comes quickly and without mercy — a wretched curl of wet muscle ensnaring his throat and drawing him back. he's been choked before and survived it before, but whatever has him is quite gifted in its attempts. he coughs at the smell of stale putrid smoke as he tries to claw the tongue free. for once in his life he'd like his bloody hook back, but he doesn't have it and with one hand only barely working, he's fighting a losing battle. )

SCENARIO TWO: YOUR HEART WILL GO ON

( he'd never thought he'd miss that blasted hotel.

it hasn't taken him much to almost yearn for those blank hallways and impossibly lacking breakfasts. he misses the people and he sure as shit misses not having to attempt surgery on strange corpses, though near the end of his stay someone had gone mad enough to slice a little girl at the breakfast table, so really is it that much better? possibly, because it's not him that has to do the slicing.

he sighs, but his company isn't volunteering, and he doesn't want to figure out what happens if they delay too long. )

I'll bloody do it. ( bloody is perhaps not a good adjective here, pirate... he moves forward to pick up the blade, determined, and not as afraid as he ought have been. would he have struggled more if this corpse was breathing? he wants to get back to Emma, but falling back on dark paths won't help him, he should know that by now.

cutting at a dead body, though, did that really count? )

SCENARIO THREE: HAVE YOU HAD YOUR BREAK-IN TODAY?

( being starved? sadly, not that new for him. he barely ate in Neverland and that had never bothered him, thanks to the ageless quality of the land. and well, orphans weren't known for their balanced diets, and frankly neither were pirates. the wretched hotel he'd been trapped in really hadn't made his diets that much worse, excluding the time the breakfast stopped coming.

his body still hasn't quite recovered from that, and he doesn't want to go back to starving if he doesn't have to. so it means there is little question when it comes to the fully stocked store of nice, appealing treats. he'll be having supper tonight, and he'll bring enough that he can share with someone else if he has to. if it's wrong then he doesn't care. people slowly starving doesn't really feel right, now does it?

he doesn't even bother looking to see if someone cares as he starts to pick the lock. if they do, well, they'll have to do a bit more than ask him nicely if they want him to stop. )

Aw yeah break-ins

[casperdisaster]

[Noah doesn't particularly care about lock-picking. Well, that's not quite right.

He thinks it's super neat.

It's less destructive than breaking a window open and requires at least some measure of skill, so when the pale blonde private-school boy notices Hook at work he slows his walk until he stops, then makes his way over to watch without so much as a 'hello'. He knows he has a way of being overly-quiet and doesn't want to say something and startle Hook during his work, after all.]

congrats hook its teenager time

[amnesiatics]

[ it's only luck that has teresa on the street at the time. something about this place is making her a little stir-crazy, reminding her far too much of WICKED and everything they've been put through the last month. it's enough to drive her outside, regardless of the risk, and she hasn't got much of anything in the way of weapons except an old pipe.

teresa hears him almost immediately, she's only around the corner from hook and the creature, and she doesn't even think before rushing up to the sound of choking and coughing and fighting, and the monster might be nothing on the grievers from back home but it's still ugly as sin. she frowns and adjusts her grip on her pipe though, stepping in and swinging hard at the tongue around his neck. ]

Try not to get in the way!

[ that's...mega helpful, teresa. ]

2 - hehe hehehe

[64th]

[ you'll have to excuse Cashmere, Hook. she's trying to get a hold on this whole situation while retaining something that looks like sanity. while the hotel turned out to not really be an arena (maybe), she's starting to get the feeling that the Capitol is behind this again.

does she want to cut this body open? no. can she? yes. but if she can get someone else to do it that's all so much better. she'd started to get comfortable in the hotel but everything has to be calculated now. if this new companion think she's a weak little girl than she might as well run with that. get an ally out of it, or at least some she can use to her advantage and dump later.

it doesn't take long at all for the Games mentality to come back. she'll worry about hating that part of her later.

Cashmere's giving the body some distance and instead busies herself trying the door and running her hands along the wall looking for cracks or seams. Hook gets very little of her attention, having already given him a quick glance and deciding that he wasn't enough of a threat to concern herself with. she doesn't realize it's her friend until he speaks, and she thinks her own heart might leap out of her chest.

she's glad to have a friend - if he still knows her - but the joy is short lived and quickly drown in dread. the hotel was very real and now it's very gone, and along with it all the people she'd come to be very fond of (where's raleigh?). ]

I can do it.

[ she abandons her wall exploration to kneel down next to the corpse, and holds out her hand expectantly for the blade. she doesn't say anything to indicate she knows him (what if he doesn't know her?) and instead stares at him for much longer than is necessary or polite.

please recognize her. ]

Gansey | The Raven Cycle

[mintly]

scenario 2

[gansey doesn't like this. he doesn't like it at all. the corpse is only dead just long enough that it's pale on top and bruised underneath from gravity pooling its blood, the letter opener isn't even remotely sharp, and there's someone else in the room with him that hasn't quite come out enough into the light to be seen. he's not squeamish, but...no, he really is kind of squeamish. but he also really doesn't want to be in this room any longer than necessary. he begins to undo the corpse's shirt, which seems invasive somehow despite the fact that this person is very, very dead, and also that he--or they--need access to its torso to actually accomplish the thing. at least it's a male corpse. this would be exponentially worse if dead breasts were involved.]

Ah, I wouldn't suppose you're any good at this kind of thing.

scenario 3

[he's hungry. really hungry, after the previous few hours. there's clearly food in the shop, and he clearly can't get to it. the glass is so beautiful, though, colors and patterns and technique he's never seen. it seems a shame to ruin a work of art that, judging by the state of the surrounding buildings, is probably rather old.

on the other hand, it's pretty stupid to remain hungry when there's clearly food there for the taking, just beyond some very pretty glass.

he studies the door, trying to figure out if there's possibly a latch or something on the inside of the door, some way to do minimal damage while still getting inside.]

Scenario 2

[casperdisaster]

[Noah isn't intentionally huddling in a dark corner. It's just that.

He's got a very reasonable thing about corpses.

And he's trying not to be sick.

There's thankfully nothing in his stomach to retch back up, not that his stomach doesn't try, it's like back when they found his Mustang, all dry heaving and nothing coming out. Everything feels weak and fuzzy at the edges. He didn't even bother to get a good look at who he was with before everything focused on the corpse and he had to run to the corner in case something DID come back up. He does recognize the voice though.]

Gansey...? T-they can't mean...

Blackwall | Dragon Age

[theresolve]

1. Them's fightin' words

[The first thought Blackwall had at this place was that it was eerily reminiscent of the Deep Roads. A fitting place to wind up, for him, and a place he would gladly accept as his fate.

Except the things down here don't appear to be darkspawn, and there's also plenty of people down here that don't seem to know how to fight.

Protecting the helpless is as good a cause as any and better than most.

The diseased people who aren't quite darkspawn but are definitely no longer human seem to be smart enough to attack people when they're alone, so Blackwall is trying to keep an eye on the stragglers. What good is a sword and shield and full suit of armor except to make sure no one is alone out there and to quickly track down anyone who might be, especially those without weapons.

Hearing the tell-tale cough, Blackwall stills, strains his ears to hear it a second time, more distinct, along with the shuffle of rubble. It echoes oddly down here, but he's pretty sure he knows the direction it's in, and moves to get the jump on it... hopefully before it gets the jump on someone else.]

2. Chose-your-own-starter

[Or you can go for something less violent than being saved/fighting beside the Warden Bara Blackwall]

1 mostly kinda sorta idk

[mercurialize]

[Kylar stands steady on the ceiling above. His feet grasped to the rock by a thick black metal claw under his foot. It's awkward, the blood is rushing to his head which might make the fall when he's ready a little dizzying, but it's keeping him away from most of the smoke. He has yet to run into many others, though he would love to find something that isn't trying to kill him. Answers or directions would be handy.

Alas, that doesn't appear to be the case- yet.

The next figure that walks by is hard to discern, but clearly a man. An armed one. He should probably get off the ceiling now. He drops with a subtle thud vibrating from the ground, just behind the man. His weapon is ready, just in case. Admittedly, there was no better way to do this that came to his mind. Hopefully this won't bite him in the ass.]

warden surana | dragon age

[unabatedly]

fear; one
[ Dark? Check. Terrible monsters looking to kill you? Check. It's shaping up to be just a typical Thedosian Tuesday, even if the creatures she's fighting aren't darkspawn. A vicious tongue lashes out for her ankle and she's quick to send out a terrible shockwave of lightning, causing the creature to shriek in some ungodly manner. Her blade at her side comes out and down on the tongue, separating it from its owner, who then slithers back into the darkness far too quickly for her to follow with her eyes. ]

Dammit.

[ Can't let it get away to go find friends. She waves her staff once to summon wisps to her side, illuminating the dark, which offers both a boon and a disadvantage, for now she can be seen by enemies as well. Her armor, blue and silver with the emblem of a griffon emblazoned on her chest, shines bright in the dancing light provided by the wisps, and while she's prepared for battle, she isn't so ready for the creatures following them from the Door.

Perhaps foolishly, she goes to follow the creature into the dark, not asking for help. Encourage her to stay with the group or help her give chase, the choice is yours! ]


hope; three
[ Maker's breath, but she's hungry, and all of the fighting hasn't helped to conserve her flagging stamina. Surana stands outside the storefront like a child might look in a candy shop, debating the merits of simply breaking the glass. There's food there, dammit, and she's in no position to simply walk away. Where's a lockpick when you need one? (Not you, Zevran, lockpicking skills her ass, you liar.)

After some deliberation, and a cautious look around the street, she goes to simply melt the lock, hand pressed to the metal and summoning as much fire magic as she can.

Of course, should someone wander nearby, she shoots them a look over her shoulder and rolls her eyes. ]

Look, you can question my morality another time when we aren't starving. Unless you have a better plan--

[ And if you do, she's all ears, but she's content with simply razing the lock into nothing by melted iron. ]


wildcard;

[ Ideas for a prompt? Hit me, I'm game! ]

hope;three

[theresolve]

[Blackwall draws up short at the sight of the elven mage burning the lock off the door. Well, melting it. And, yes, he has a look of judgement that he can't exactly help. It's not directed at her though, not truly, but the man who used to similar to make sure he could see his next meal - a man Blackwall would care to forget if he could.]

No better. I suppose of the shop owners come back there can be some kind of arrangement of apology.

[He's seen enough looting in recent days, the mansions in the Emerald Graves, picked through by scavengers who are also just trying to live, might as well live off of nobles who might not ever be coming back, might not even still be alive. The stores, restored as they are, remind him too much of those mansions. It's eerie.]

kanda yu; d.gray-man

[beanstalk]

( scenario two )

[Clearly, no matter how hard he kicked, the door just wasn't going to budge. Kanda wrinkled his nose in both disgust at the smell of the corpse in the room as well as in irritation at the situation. First, he found himself waking up around a bunch of clearly scheming Noah around him. (And a comatose Alma sealed beneath all of them, but that was a subject he wasn't going to touch with a ten foot pole.) The Noah were planning on doing something in order to get to the Fourteenth, but Kanda still hadn't completely figured out how they were going to do that before he found himself here.

He didn't even recall blacking out a second time. It also didn't help that he woke to Mugen missing either.

This was just fucking dandy. Whatever his captors - Noah or whoever the hell it was - had set up with the rotting corpse was clearly missing its mark with Kanda. It was just another dead body.

It wouldn't make a bad punching bag, but it wouldn't get him anywhere either. Letting out an exasperated breath, he turned toward it and the indented pedestal, walking on over to the remains to rip the attached note off to read. Sorry, no respect for the dead here.

Though the instructions left on it does get a brow raise out of him.] A human heart will get me out?

[Even he had to admit that was a little disgusting.]


( scenario three )

[Oh, it was a store. Kanda still had no clue as to where the hell he even was to begin with (then again, he hadn't known since the moment that Noah had blown a part of his brains out), but it has been several hours. THere were no signs of the beansprout, the scientists that were forced to observe, or the Noah. It was just him.

Anyone he's run into, he didn't recognize.

Mugen was gone, his golem was long gone. He was essentially cut off completely from the Order and left to fend for himself. Which, of course, would unfortunately mean stealing food if whoever ran this place didn't recognize the Rose Cross clearly and plainly embroidered on the cloak around his shoulders.

So he tried the door first and found that it was locked.] Figures. [Seemingly calm, Kanda walked away from the door and back toward the window, eyeing it and what lay beyond inside of the store. He could always just claim it was an accident if he was asked. He could. But fuck it all, he was getting hungrier and grumpier by the minute, and didn't care to waste anymore time before he plowed his boot right through the window. Saves him the unnecessary trouble of glass in his hand, and it gets him a bigger impact out of the window.

A few more kicks should get it big enough for him to step through, and damn the smell of soba hits his nose immediately. Freshly made, to boot, but definitely not Jerry's.

(Who even knows how to make his soba all the way out here, anyway?)]

3

[greywaren]

[Ronan isn't too impressed when he sees the guy kick in the glass, but he watches for a moment as Kanda kicks at it again, shattering pieces off of it with every blow. It's smart, not to use his hands, and Ronan steps forward, his hands in his pockets.]

What's in there?

[It's calm, a little cocky as he approaches the shattered glass and steps delicately around it.]

Anything cool?

Arya Stark | A Song of Ice and Fire

[whichend]

one.
[ Arya moves through the new city, silent as a shadow. There are plenty of shadows here, and fear, too.

Fear cuts deeper than swords.

She keeps one hand on her hip, touching her own sword. She can't afford to lose it. Not here. She's heard noises, terrible noises. Like the monsters Old Nan used to tell her about, except these are real.

There are other people, too, milling about. Maybe that's what's attracting them.

She hears a gargle, and it's too close for comfort. She turns and draws Needle. There's a pack. A horde. ]

Get back, you stupid things!

three.
[ Arya's got her hands pressed against the glass, and in that moment, she looks like a girl again. She's not someone who's ran, who's fought, who's killed. Just a small little thing.

It's a feast, a celebration fit for a king in the north. Her mouth waters, but even more importantly, she can practically see her family in there. Bran. Rickon. Robb, Jon, even her father...

But her father's dead, isn't he? She saw it happen.

She doesn't even notice you coming up from behind. ]

Three!

[unconqueredson]

[The problem is that the glass is very beautiful.

In any other situation - any other - Saul would not be thinking twice. He knows how easily windows break before the well-placed kicks of hungry youths. And he is hungry, Mithra's blood, always, desperately hungry. But the glass...]

They craft these things in my homeland, in my city, [he mutters, swallowing hard, as he comes to stand behind the girl facing the window. He can see the reflection of her face, and it's a look he knows very well. They are both starving, and for a little more than food.]

Move. I - I'm going to break it.

Cashmere | The Hunger Games + crau from checking in

[64th]

[ scenario 1 ]

[ she can hear the monsters, just around the corner. Cashmere's already had the pleasure of watching someone get roughed up by one. she thinks they got away, but didn't stick around to find out what was going to happen next. she's still undecided if it would be worse to be eaten alive or to turn out like one of them, but death is starting to look more enticing as the day goes on. plus: she's already dead at home. so why does it matter?

right now, she's pressed herself up against the wall, hoping if she doesn't move or breathe too loud the terrifying thing won't notice her. she'll give it a few minutes and then try to take off in the opposite direction at full speed, but not while she hears them moving around.

the Stay Quiet plan is abandoned when she hears someone approach from her other side. ]

Psst. Hey. Stop.

[ she keeps her voice as low as she can, but she's also not about to risk this newcomer wandering straight into harm's way. mostly because it would also put her in harm's way. ]

[ scenario 3 ]

[ this is not really a good look for Cashmere. her hands and forearms are stained with blood from an earlier run-in with a monster that she has yet to find the words to properly describe. she's going with mutt but it doesn't look like anything she's seen before. her hair's been tied back into a ponytail, and that's starting to look worse for wear too. she needs new clothes and a shower, but both of those are concerns for later now that she's spotted the food that's just a pane a glass away.

she's disappointed but not surprised to find the door locked, giving it an angry kick for good measure. the only way to the food is through the window, it seems, and she raps her knuckles against it. not too thick - she could break it easily enough. the possibility of the windows somehow being alarmed occurs to her, which is less of a concern of drawing the attention of the shop owner than it is a concern of drawing the attention of another monster.

well, fuck it. Cashmere's just going to put her fist through the window unless someone stops her. ]

1 (and hello again >>)

[americanclassic]

[Steve's been trying to take stock of the area, make a mental layout. Find exists, if he can, and maybe a central location to hole up in with survivors. If he can find any. He's passed a lot of bodies, broken and ripped beyond repair, and he's done his own share of breaking when the... whatever the hell they were decided they'd found another plaything. He was happy to teach them otherwise, not that it was a lesson they learned for long before they stopped twitching.

He was continuing down smaller alleys, figuring it was less likely he'd come across a pack he couldn't handle than being out in the open. He'd cut through one and was going to round a corner when he heard a quiet voice. A hissed whisper, making him turn to find the source. A young blonde woman, looking half terrified -- and vulnerable.

He changed direction, moving over to the wall to flatten himself against it, looking her over to see if she was injured beyond whatever trauma she might have seen here.]

Are you okay?

Adam Jensen | Deus Ex

[deus_machina]

ii.
Do you know something I don't? Because I don't know what the fuck is going on.

[Adam is quick to include the other person in the room into this mess with himself. If he can avoid messing with the corpse he'll do that. He has moved and hidden corpses before but that doesn't mean he's eager to dive into one's chest and desecrate it for no other reason than to get out of a room.

First he'll investigate other opportunities. As he asks his question of the other person, he's thoroughly checking out the door. His metal fingers are feeling all the seams. He steps back and unannounced he changes his augmented reality view to show him any weaknesses in the walls that he might exploit. A moment later he returns his vision settings to normal and looks to the other (living) person.]

The room's solid.

[gotsjokes]

Yeah, sure do. It’s starting to stink up in here.

[ Ellie said with heavy disdain as the man went around like a lunatic looking for some piss hole to crawl out of. She didn’t think there was going to be any other way, someone made a lot of trouble to put them in here they’re not gonna leave the fucking door unlocked. But what concerned her the most was the fact that this guy seemed to have some sort of weird mechanical component to him that was really making her uncomfortable.

She didn’t want to stare so she took her looks whenever he was focused on something else. She watched as his hands began to claw at the walls, his fingers work with an obvious un-flesh-like tap to the metal hinges and material that made the walls solid. It wasn’t anything that having flesh would make a sound with.

Her lip turned up and she looked back to the corpse before she squatted down next to it to pull the letter opener from the pocket of the corpse’s chest. ]

You want to do this? Because I’ll let you, just saying. But one of us .. we got to.. do it.

Oguna-no-Takeru | Susanoh ~Sword of the Devil~

[echoprince]

[ smokers ]

[ The crow that accompanies him flutter its wings, and sits down on his shoulder, and the teenager calmly watches the Smokers.

He's not impressed with the smokers, to be honest. But then Oguna is rarely impressed by anything. He's being a nice child at the moment though, and cuts off any tentacles that grasps anyone else, or that comes close to him, with one swift movement of his spear. ]

[ corpse ]

[ Oguna spares the letter opened only one glance, deeming it entirely worthless (he doesn't need weapons to care through flesh, anyway), and only then he reads the note. He looks between the corpse, the pedestal, and whoever might be in there with him.

Although his face is completely blank, you might be able to figure out his train of thought; the not is not very specific on which heart really is needed. ]

[ glass ]

[ Oh, so sorry (not sorry), were you trying to keep that window whole? Because Oguna doesn't give a shit, he just smashes the glass with a fist, completely ignoring the fact that the glass cuts his skin and makes him bleed. (If you pay attention, you should notice that one of his fingers has been replaced with one out of metal.) ]

corpse

[vapidfloozy]

[Inigo was trying the door, tugging on it and kicking it, until he glances over to see the other guy in the room looking at him with a - somewhat calculating glint in his eyes. Well, he could be imagining it, but he doubts it.]

Whoa whoa whoa! They left us a plenty good heart, what're you looking at me for?

kuroo tetsurou | hq

[dure]

FEAR. CORPSE

[ not really the way you wanna spend a weekend morning: being in the same space with a corpse. it's the kind of thing that kuroo just sees illustrated in medical books and stuff that he's maybe seen in horror movies, except that this one was real and that note attached to it was real and - out of morbid curiousity more than anything really - the letter opener was real and the corpse was super real too.

this is bizarre. just .... real bizarre. horror movie bizarre. and yet there doesn't seem to be a way out of here. something cold slips down into his gut and settles in it as he holds the letter opener in his hands, staring at the corpse and the room as he turns pale when he realizes what he's supposed to do. ]

Hey - [ turning to the other person beside him; an uneasy laugh. ] you don't - think they're serious with this, right? I mean it's all just .... a pretty awful prank, or something.

[ man what if he pissed in his fear here, that'd be so embarrassing. ]

HOPE ; BREAK-IN

[ he's got his face glued to the glass. he may be salivating. you'd think he'd be salivating over something as expensive as steak or whatever, but no - kuroo tetsurou is more interested in the plate of fried mackerel on the display.

he moves towards the door and starts rattling the doorknob, muttering c'mon, open up- before calling you over with a friendly wave. ]

Wanna do something for charity?

fear

[unknowable]

[Adam has unfortunately had enough experience with real shitty situations to be fairly certain that this is, in fact, serious. He already tried the door, and it's definitely locked tighter than he has any hope of opening.

He tries to break the news gently.]

It's pretty far to go for a prank. Unless you know anyone who would lock people in a room with an actual dead body for fun?

[Adam might know a couple people like that, but none of them would be capable of this, even if they might think it was funny.]

I think we're going to have to... you know. Cut it open.

ᶜˡᵃʳᶤᶜᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳˡᶤᶰᵍ // ˢᶤˡᵉᶰᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵐᵇˢ

[deep_roller]

scenario one

[Clarice heard shouting and had instinctively stopped what she was doing to run after the sound. Dark alleys, creepy abandoned city surroundings, and a sketchy warehouse or broken window here and there. Barely lit streetlights and no map or sense of direction to guide her. Agent Starling was good with directions, and had a pretty decent head on her shoulders when it came to not getting lost. But in a place she was completely unfamiliar, she wasn't much better off than your average civilian. The only thing setting her apart as a determination to mask her uncertainty and anxiety with bravado and her FBI training that was drilled into her head.

What would Jack Crawford d? If there was such a bracelet, she'd be wearing it here.

Gun out, arms up, ready to shoot without a moment's hesitation, she rounds the corner, running straight into one of the things. It's tongue wraps around her almost instantly as she squirms to get out of its grasp, fight and survival kicking in and postponing her horror and confusion regarding what the Hell had latched onto her.

When she saw its face, she tried pushing it away, but her angle was all wrong. It was behind her and she couldn't get off a shot to any vital spots. When she shot the foot, all that seemed to do was piss it off further and unleash an inhuman groan of pain.

Oh God, please. This is not how I die.]

[casperdisaster]

[Noah has really only one thing going for him and that is even when he's got a living body he tends to be small and quiet and unobtrusive and hard to notice. Well, also that he's about as threatening as one of those extra soft toys made specially for toddlers so two things, but the first is what is working for him as he's mostly hiding in dark corners made between buildings as he tries to make his way back to safety. The hop skip and a jump between shadows method is mostly working for him, he's one teenage boy and he doesn't look for trouble aside from how to avoid it.

The gunshot gains his attention and he peers out from his hiding place around the corner. Oh god, one of those Smokers, better say hidden, except -

Except it has someone who in spite of the gun looks like they're very much in trouble.

He hesitates, because he is a coward, but ends up drawing his hunting knife (absurdly out of place on his completely unthreatening self) and rushing to help because that's the only time he's got courage, since there doesn't seem to be anyone else around more capable. A quick move slices the tongue clean, thanks to the sharpness of the knife, but Noah is not about to try to one-on-one that.]

Come on, run!!

[Noah takes Clarice's other hand to encourage her to freaking make a break for it along with him while the Smoker is still reeling from one of the tongues being severed.]

Demyx | Kingdom Hearts

[melodiouspacifist]

[corpse]

[Waking up in a strange place isn't at all what he expected. He expected that when one dies you just...disappear. Vanish without a trace. Demyx takes a moment to poke at himself. Definitely corporeal. How did this happen?

That isn't to say he's not grateful, he certainly is. Existing or not, well, one choice is clearly his favourite. He pinches himself just to make sure everything is real.

There's someone in the room with him that he may or may not recognize, but instead he goes for the door, pulling on it with all his might because puzzles were never his strong suit. He notices the note on the pedestal - put a heart there to leave - and turns to the other person in the room, holding up his hands with a light chuckle.]

Don't look at me, I can't help with that!

[break in]

[He isn't sure what drew him to the window, but there inside, is a delicious looking spread. It's been awhile since he's had his favourite, freshly prepared piping hot croissants. He can practically feel his mouth watering at imagining the smell.

He doesn't know how to pick locks, Demyx doesn't have that kind of patience. He does however know how to break windows, although it's a shame this one's got such a lovely, artistic design.

Food or art?

His stomach rumbled and he raised his gloved fist to do the deed.]

break in

[unknowable]

[Adam considers walking on by - it's not his problem - until he peers a little more closely and sees the food inside. And then he's still torn, briefly, because he doesn't know the person about to break in. But, with a suppressed sigh, he walks over.]

There might be another way in.

[It would be a waste to smash the windows, but Adam wouldn't object if he was sure it was the only option. But he's not sure, so - best to check.]

inquisitor trevelyan ; dragon age: inquisition

[closerift]

fear; one

[ Shadows seem to curl around the streets like smoke, or maybe they've been there all along and she's just now noticing the way they seem to follow, to obscure her surroundings so thoroughly that she feels more off-guard than she has in ages. Cecily Trevelyan, brows knit in careful scrutiny, is extremely aware of the weight of the quiver at her back as she walks, boots click-clicking on the stones and thudding dully against the packed earth. The place has only reminded her of the Deep Roads thus far, an unpleasant memory as any that squirms in the pit of her stomach like a worm.

Maker, but this is impossible. To be in the halls of Skyhold one moment, and then-... What had happened, exactly? The memories seem half-formed at the edges of her mind. She raises a hand to press to her temple as she wanders, fighting off a tiny, burning headache that's threatening to occupy more of her thoughts than she'd like. Clearly, there's work to be done here, and it starts with figuring out all the details of how and why and keeping safe, and keeping others safe, too, as often has been the case.

Then, something stirs off and behind her. The Inquisitor freezes, ears pricked for any sound, and immediately she thinks darkspawn. It isn't lucky that the monster isn't darkspawn, exactly: better the devil you know, or so they say. Instead, as she reaches around to slip her longbow out in preparation, something rogue wraps securely and too-swiftly around her wrist and pulls with tremendous force. She can't help it; Cecily yelps in surprise, but uses her free hand to work free a dagger at her hip to try and extricate herself as the beast drags her steadily toward it, whatever "it" is.

Another day in the life of the world's most Unfortunate person. ]



hope

[ There is a pot of soup just beyond the window and she can hardly believe her eyes. She should be able to believe it; by all accounts, she's seen her share of impossible things in the past year and managed to live through them ("miraculously," as Varric had explained). Still, it is impossible that the soup from her childhood would be sitting inside one of the buildings in her strange new home, waiting patiently for someone (her?) to come in and at least examine it.

But the door is locked. Of course the door is locked! When isn't the door locked, busted, rusted, broken, or otherwise keeping things just out of reach?

It isn't an issue. Cecily smiles, tight-lipped and somehow mischievous, and glances briefly down the street. Strangers, few and uninterested in the young woman staring fervently through a random window. Feeling very much in her younger years again, the Inquisitor tucks a stray curl behind her ear and crouches, slipping a lock pick from the pouch at her side. She hasn't felt very prepared for this misadventure before, but this is one of the rare times she's considered herself well-met with a situation thus far.

And she's only going to look inside, to see what the possible reason for the soup's presence could be. Because it wasn't just any soup; there was an exact number of carrots bobbing in the broth because she'd had a strange period of fixation with certain numbers. It was the same tan streaked with gold, sporting shredded chicken and quarters of potatoes, flecked with parsley and a dusting of spices that she could practically smell. Their cook had prepared it for years when she was a child to her exact, youthful (and fickle) specifications... and it even seemed to be in one of their old bowls, porcelain white and deep green.

It could be a coincidence, easily. But she had to know for sure. ]

Fear-One!

[theresolve]

[The Inquisitor PROBABLY could have handled this on her own, but that's the joy of party members - not having to handle it on your own.

A swift sharp blade slices the tongue that was holding her wrist, severs it several feet back, much closer to the misshapen being that it was formally attached to, and in short order a shield makes contact with what passes for a face on it, heavy and solid and if that sound is correct certainly breaking something in it and knocking it back a few steps while in a daze.

Blackwall now stands between the Inquisitor and the Smoker and calls to her over his shoulder while he prepares to go another round with it.]

Inquisitor! Are you hurt?

[He needs to know if this is a cut and run because the Inquisitor is dying situation.]

Cosmonarch Megrez | Original Character

[eggedon]

Fear: One

[What the hell was that? Megrez had spotted a quick flicker of the mysterious and definitely very dangerous thing before ducking around a corner. Humanoid Chaonids were not unheard of; she had seen a former Cosmonarch turned into one through a massive flood of chaotic energy through his system. She had nothing to confirm that this creature was a Chaonid and not something generated by the force that brought her here; the only proof would be if the thing crumbled into dust after a few good egg hits.

In any case, Megrez is hiding around the corner from the monster, trying as hard as she can to breathe quietly and cursing the fact that her magic requires spoken phrases. She could just escape, but there are other people here, and it would be irresponsible of her to leave the creature roaming around to attack someone who couldn't fight back. She cups one hand, and whispers...]

Egg Toss.

[An ordinary-looking egg appears in her hand. Some magic, huh?]

Hope: One

[Megrez's attention had first been caught by the beautiful glass display; sometimes she could indeed be attracted to the shiny. When she saw the food beyond the window, her intuition immediately told her trap. Who just leaves bowls of chili sitting there? But it had been a while since she had last eaten, and it looked so good... the chili was a rich red color, and there were definitely large chunks of meat in it. Maybe she could try to get in and inquire with the resident(s) about sharing?

Alas, the door was locked and no one came when she knocked, leaving her standing around outside of the door and sighing out of frustration. There were ways of breaking in, yes, but she wanted to avoid collateral damage. Cosmonarchs had a bad enough reputation for property damage as it was. Then again, a broken window wasn't quite the same as an entire warehouse razed to the ground...]

Hope

[toremainbehind]

[What kind of gentleman would he be if he left a woman alone?

Though, that doesn't mean he isn't wary, not familiar with his surroundings and definitely unfamiliar with this woman who seemed upset about being unable to break inside.

A glance through the window, noticing the food, and it clicked. So, he walked over, wishing he had his cigarettes and smiles at her.] D'ya need any help?

Gren | The Wolf Among Us

[murderpotato]

Fear:

[Well, this sure as fuck isn't the Trip Trap.]

[Gren remembers being at the bar and he remembers Holly herding his drunken ass over to the back room cot to sleep it off, and now he's on the fucking floor with a crick in his neck and an ache in his bad shoulder. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time he's woken up on a strange floor without really remembering how he got there, but this is a little different.]

[For one thing, he's not alone. He doesn't have to look to know there's a living person in the room with him, and the smell tells him that there's a dead one, too.]

[Gren sits up and his stomach does a somersault. Should've laid off the cheap whiskey last night, because this hangover is going to be a fucker. He looks over at the corpse and yanks the note off of it with a sharp jerk; the paper tears. He reads it anyway.]

I don't got time for this fuckin' shit.

[He stands, completely ignoring the mundy for now, and makes his way over to the door, lowers his shoulder, and charges. The sound he makes when he hits the door is heavy and meaty.]

Shit. Ow. [He rolls his shoulder. Gren would rub at it if he had another fucking arm, but he's down one because of Bigby fucking Wolf and his stupid sense of thematic irony. Prick.] Well, fuckin' fine, I guess I do have time for this shit.

[He returns to where the corpse lays and kneels down next to it. It's just a mundy body; the hell does he care about pulling out a heart? Bring that shit, he's had practice.]

[Gren draws his hand back and plunges it into the corpse's chest cavity like it's got all the resistance of overripe fruit. There are... splashes. Some of it lands on his boots, and he pulls a face.]

Fuckin' seriously?

Hope:

[Gren stands in front of a beautiful shop front, looking inside at a wide array of food sitting out on display. It's pretty, really, he'll write a fucking poem about it later and it'll be passed down for all posterity or some shit. He'll call it The Fuck Is This Shit, an epic poem by Grendel. Pardon the shitty handwriting, because somebody who won't be named took his right arm.]

[His head pounds. He's hungover as fuck with a headache the size of New York City, no fucking earthly clue as to where he is right now, and he's.

Goddamn.

Fucking.

Hungry.]

[Pretty glass windows don't stand a chance.]

fear

[sparkler]

[At first, Dorian simply watches, content to let this stranger hurl himself against the door. He does make a mildly disgusted face when Gren just shoves his hand into the corpse's chest. Dorian has no fear of dead bodies, and no particular aversion to them - that would be rather ridiculous, for a necromancer. But he generally doesn't go around shoving his hands inside them, either.

He steps back, just enough that none of the... effluvia... gets on him.]

Careful, there. Some of us would rather not ruin our clothing.