Test Drive Meme # 2

[hadrielmods]

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 October 25th, and apps are open November 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: THE LAUGHTER OF A CHILD
[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. This time, the Door has brought in some little friends for you to play with.

Grey Children are enemies in the video game Silent Hill. They usually move in pairs or groups of three, clinging to your legs and pulling you down so that they can laugh as they stab you to death. They're not particularly sturdy, but since they hunt in packs, they can kill you just the same. Let's hope your group is bigger - or that you can get away before they get ahold of you. But don't be too mean. They're just children, after all.]


SCENARIO TWO: FEAR ITSELF
[You turn a corner, and there it is. The one thing that terrifies you more than anything, that turns you into a frightened child, that makes you want to run or scream or fight wildly. It could be anything. That person you trusted, who betrayed you. A monster that haunts your dreams. Spiders, maybe? Whatever it is, it's exactly what you fear the most.

And then there are footsteps next to you, and someone else is there. Maybe they can help you. Maybe they can save you. But everyone's afraid of something, and the moment your savior gets close, their fear will manifest as well - and if you're really unlucky, combine with yours to make something even worse.

It's not real. It can't hurt you. Not unless you let it. But if you let it, it will destroy you.

This is a simpler version of October's Fear Event.]


H O P E

SCENARIO THREE: THIS IS NOT MY BEAUTIFUL HOUSE
[A moment ago, you were making dinner. Not alone, but with someone you care about nearby - your beautiful spouse, or your amazing child, or your beloved sibling. Then, in an instant, you look at them and you know: this isn't real.

This perfect house, this perfect family, it's not yours. You can remember your real life now, and that person you care for? You might not even know them. A moment ago they were your world, and now you know this isn't actually your life. Your life is something else, somewhere else.

Above the fireplace sits a painting of you and your happy family. You know that if you destroy it, you'll return to your life. But do you really want to, when you've never felt this contentment, this happiness before? You could have it all, if you wanted. And what about your companion? This is a decision you should make together - if you want to.]

Comments

[closerift]

[ Unfortunately, she knows how difficult this is. She'd seen the other side of it; Cassandra may think that anger and violence would be easier to deal with, and for her, that may be true. The Seeker had always had stronger of a resolve than the Inquisitor. But, for Cecily, seeing her friends and companions dismissing her, insulting and attacking her, had been almost too much to bear. Just as damaging as Varric's grief is now... the same level of pain, but a very different kind. ]

I'm not sure. [ She admits, looking uncomfortable. ] I haven't... seen this, exactly, before. I had hoped you might have an idea, but it isn't fair of me to put any of that on your shoulders.

[ Not when it's Cassandra who is bearing the brunt of this dream and its effects. Cecily sets her jaw, beginning to move about the room, taking care not to get too close to Varric or to meet his accusing gaze. There has to be something. It couldn't be a prison, not when she herself had managed to enter.

She looks back to the other woman, expression mingled determination and empathy. ]

Is there anything here that seems... strange? Wrong, I mean? In a way that doesn't fit how... perfect everything else is.

[ Or, pretends to be. ]

[stabsbooks]

[ Not stronger, Cassandra would have argued. Merely different in their approaches. The Inquisitor is capable of many things that she is not, and she'd gone very quickly from a prisoner and a suspect to someone whose respect and approval Cassandra holds in high regard; someone she respects and admires in return. A friend.

This is...difficult. Enormously so. Had she been alone, she feels almost certain that she would never have truly questioned it. She would have embraced the fantasy, would have allowed herself to be drawn down into it until any hope of returning to reality was lost. But she isn't alone, and she attends closely to the Inquisitor's question, forcing herself to consider it. ]

There was...something.

[ A feeling she'd dismissed before, unwilling to examine it too closely. Exactly what the Inquisitor is describing now. Something wrong.

She looks around the room, unable to quite meet Varric's eye as her gaze passes over him. The little house is perfect, cozy without being cramped, warm and welcoming. Everything that her childhood home in Nevarra had not been. The pleasant smell of ink and parchment linger; this is clearly Varric's home as much as it is hers.

But...

She looks over pictures and books and mementos. A lifetime's worth of memories. Finally, her gaze stops, resting on the painting above the fireplace. A portrait of herself and Varric, gazing at each other with all the adoration in the world.

She swallows past the sudden lump in her throat. ]

...That.

[ Cassandra steps closer, reaching up towards the painting but not quite daring to touch it. ]

That does not belong.

[ Behind them, Varric moves suddenly, an abortive gesture. As if he'd stopped himself from stopping her... or as if he is preparing to stop them, if they go any further. ]

[closerift]

[ The portrait? Cecily frowns, looking up at it. She, too, notices, the way that Varric seems to react to their noticing it, but doesn't take action. Not yet.

She hadn't felt anything strange from the picture, but trusts Cassandra's instincts. It is her imagined home, after all, and if there's something to be said about the image above the mantle... ]

How do you know? [ The Inquisitor asks, half-glancing to the Seeker. After all, it seems only another piece of the scene: homey, welcoming, warm, loving. It seems cruel to destroy this place, if it comes to that, but she'll keep the other woman safe no matter what it takes. Even if she has to be the one to strike down the phantom of their dwarven ally. ]

Well... [ She continues slowly, still very aware that they may be in increasing danger. ] We could try and remove it.

[ Physically take it down, you may interpret, or, more accurately, destroy it. If it's really the key to freeing Cassandra, it's more than likely that the portrait will have to be broken in one way or another. It makes sense, considering the awful symbolism that's at play. ]

[stabsbooks]

I...I cannot say. I simply...know.

[ There's nothing, after all, that appears to be wrong with the painting. Nothing she could point to to explain the uneasy feeling it gives her. It's simple enough, a portrait of Cassandra sitting in a chair, head turned to smile up at Varric. He stands beside the chair, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other holding open a book as he smiles back.

Obviously posed. But the sense of love in both their expressions is real.

She reaches out to touch it, and as soon as her fingers brush the frame, Varric's voice sounds from behind her.

"Cassandra."

She closes her eyes, bracing herself, and doesn't respond. He presses on, undeterred. His voice cracks slightly as he speaks, and Cassandra holds herself very still, visibly willing herself not to react, not to let his words reach her.

"Cassandra, listen to me, please. You can't seriously be considering this. You can't seriously want to leave?" He pauses, waiting for her to answer, and when she doesn't look back at him, he continues, his voice growing softer. Sad and regretful.

"We've been so happy, Seeker. I've been so happy here with you. I love you. Please...please just stay."

She takes in a shuddering breath, her shoulders trembling. She'd resolved to believe the Inquisitor. To reject these lies and find a way out. But now, she finds her resolve faltering. Cassandra had always prided herself on her faith. But now...who should she trust? Her friend, looking out, as always, for her safety? Or the man she loves, begging her to remain at his side?

Where does her faith guide her now? ]

Inquisitor...Cecily, please.

[ She speaks without opening her eyes, fingers tensing over the frame. It makes her weak to ask again, perhaps, and it shames her...but she has to be sure. Or as sure as she can be. ]

Tell me one more time that this is false.

[closerift]

[ Some might see weakness in Cassandra in this scenario: understandable weakness, perhaps, when faced with such uncertainty and anguish. The Inquisitor doesn't. She looks back to the other woman and sees the strong Seeker who'd begun the Inquisition out of nothing in the face of chaos and complete adversity. Who'd led through the toughest times despite the insurmountable odds. For whatever credit Cecily herself received for work within their organization, she credited Cassandra tenfold. She'd always thought that it should have been the other who'd been worthier of the title Inquisitor.

This is one of those moments where her bravery shines through, despite the conflicted expression. Cecily steps forward to lay a gentle hand on Cassandra's shoulder, expression soft, sympathetic, and sorry. ]

It's meant to hurt you. [ The Inquisitor confirms, eyes on the other's face, and not on the portrait or Varric or the room. ] They may not be the monsters we've seen, but they are no better than demons.

[ Should she just destroy the painting? Even if she could, it would take something from her friend. A moment of reclaiming her reality, overcoming both fear and hope in one fell swoop. She can't do that to Cassandra, not unless it becomes a more dire situation.

With the way Varric is talking... and with how much he's talking... it's possible it may come to that. ]

[stabsbooks]

[ Monsters and demons and lies. She thinks she prefers the demons. At least she can relish the idea of ending them, rather than dreading it.

Cassandra opens her eyes to stare at the portrait one more time, and nods. Behind her, Varric tenses, but she takes no notice. She reaches for the sword at her side - had it been there all along, or had it only appeared when she needed it? - and draws it, readying herself to slice the canvas in two.

"No!"

The cry comes from behind them, disrupting her concentration. She turns, startled, only to see Varric, angry now, and launching himself forward. Bianca is nowhere to be seen, but from the sheer rage and determination in his eyes, he hardly needs it. It's painful to see. She had never wanted this...but there is no reasoning with him now. It's not Varric, she thinks grimly, and braces herself, ready to stop him as he attacks her. Without hurting him, if she can.

Only he's not running to attack her.

She realizes it too late; he's already far too close to the Inquisitor, and worse, she sees now, he's produced a dagger from somewhere. Cecily has had no time to draw her own weapon, and the longbow would be of little use to her in such close quarters in any case. She is vulnerable. In danger. Cassandra doesn't think. She moves, thrusting herself between Varric and the Inquisitor, knocking the dagger away. He cries out in wordless rage, knocking her aside and reaching his hands up to the Inquisitor, and Cassandra stumbles, watching as he closes thick hands around Cecily's throat.

No.

She cries out in return, charging forward with her sword out. It connects, slicing a clean line across his throat, and Cassandra halts, gaping, as Varric stumbles backwards. He reaches his own hands up to his throat, unable to stop the blood pouring out between his fingers, and he turns his eyes to her with one last, longing look as he falls to the ground with a heavy crash that shakes the room.

Cassandra doesn't move, and doesn't look away. Her mind feels as blank and empty as Varric's lifeless eyes.

[closerift]

[ She's got a dagger on her person, but she'd also been far too occupied with Cassandra, eyes drawn to the portrait, as if the way that the illusion worked mystified them even more so than usual. A distraction, maybe? Cassandra's assessment is right; she has no time to draw a bow, or any weapon at all, before Varric has launched himself forward. Cecily gags for a moment, because he's much stronger, and her fingers pry uselessly at his to try and remove them. It doesn't take long before she's seeing spots, mind becoming a steady buzz... until, all at once, she's released.

The Inquisitor gasps, grasping at her throat, backing away hurriedly and automatically retrieving the knife from her belt. It's too late for that, though, clearly visible in the way that their dwarven companion's body is in a heap on the bloody. Deep scarlet seeps gradually from beneath him, spattered on the otherwise-pristine carpet.

For a while, she can only stare, heart pounding wildly, mind driven blank by sheer horror. She'd seen something like this when Fear had tormented them with nightmarish visions, but this... is more real, somehow. Cassandra is real, in any case, and if it hadn't been for her - ]

Thank you. [ Cecily croaks weakly, her throat now aching. ] You saved my life.

[ It needs to be said, but that isn't all. The Inquisitor steps forward determinedly, stands before the frozen warrior and... whatever it was that she'd really killed. ]

Cassandra. [ She says firmly, working around the way her voice sounds half-broken by stubbornly pressing on. ] I know- That is, I can't imagine-

[ There's a quick shake of her head. Get it right. ]

This is what these gods do to us. [ She tries again. ] The real Varric is alive, would never do anything like this. But, in this place, this is the kind of torture they put us through. We need to find a way to stop it.

[stabsbooks]

[ Cecily is talking, words that mean nothing, that Cassandra doesn't hear. She stares at Varric's body, blood coating his fingers and his shirt and his chest, his eyes still staring at her with a longing and betrayal that make her gut twist.

The Inquisitor steps forward, blocking her view, and slowly she drags her eyes upward, forcing herself to listen. ]

The real Varric.

[ Somehow, in the midst of her grief and anguish, she'd forgotten. Forgotten that there was a world beyond this room, that the end of this falsehood was not the end of all. She blinks, thinking of Varric. It is hard to separate the true memories from the dream, but she knows things aren't the same. They were never...like this.

But a Varric who is alive and does not love her is better than an impostor who would kill to keep her imprisoned. She nods, slowly, steeling herself. ]

Yes. You are right. [ She turns to the portrait again, doing her best to ignore the chilly frost that grips her heart at the sight of it. He looks...they both look...so happy. If only...

But there is no 'if only,' and she raises her sword. ]

Be prepared. We do not know what else may attack us.

[ And before she can lose her nerve, she brings the blade down, slicing the canvas clean through. ]