dankmemes | test drive meme #11

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!test drive

test drive meme #11

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 July 25th, and apps are open August 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, 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: WORKING TITLE
[The Door brings in all that is chaotic and evil in the world. This may include you, may include the person next to you... and may include the monster behind you.

Watch out as you explore the streets of Hadriel, because you're not alone, and there's always something lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to swarm around you and chow down. This time, the Door has brought in a few Working Joes, from the Alien: Isolation video game series.

Once simply androids meant for mundane jobs, working Joes have had their programming altered to isolate and eliminate threats onboard their ship- which they now believe to be Hadriel. Super strong, yet slow and plodding, an android may ask you for identification before throttling you when you don't have the right answer. They are quite sturdy and difficult to destroy without the right tools. Have fun!]

H O P E

SCENARIO TWO: BEAUTIFICATION DUTY
[The city has always looked a little drab, but now with some tools from Hope, it's up to you guys to spruce it up a bit! Your character will find themselves in a shop filled with various paints, home improvement tools, window stickers, streamers, and various other items and tools used to improve the appearance of the neighborhood.

You're encouraged to add your own little flair to the project in order to improve living standards and make Hope the happiest god in the pantheon. So, what will you do? Paint a mural? Sweep up some rubble? Install a skylight! The cave is your oyster.

This is a mini version of our Extinction v2 event this month!]

S O R R O W

SCENARIO THREE: CRY ME A RIVER
[When you wake up in the morning, something feels... off. It feels like you just watched 20 ASPCA commercials in a row and then topped it all off with the first ten minutes of Up. You're beaten down, depressed, upset by all the horrific acts and trauma in the world, and it's enough to make you want to cry.

Turn on the waterworks, because Hadriel is about to have a shortage of tissues and everyone's getting dehydrated. You might run into your neighbor crying while you're scavenging for food, or you might just find that one whole asshole in the entire movie who isn't affected.

Either way, it's time to get some hugs, some kleenex, and maybe a little bit of chocolate. Happy... crying?]

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[one-fear:]

He's managed to avoid the thick of the combat, thankfully, but that doesn't mean he's been hiding. He's still a doctor, wherever you put him, whatever world he's on, and that means going where the injured are. His supplies from home are limited, the supplies here primitive at best, but he's still going to do his best. Kneeling by a prone figure on the street, his hands are already at work.

"Lie still. I'm going to stop the bleeding first, then we'll see if there's anything broken."

[two-hope:]

Simon is staring at a wall. He's been staring for a solid ten minutes, now; it's probably starting to get a little concerning for anyone watching. But there's nothing wrong with him, honestly, it's just a tiny moment of crushing uncertainty and indecision. He'd just come over from the clinic to check on River, make sure she was fine, and she'd shoved a paintbrush in his hand and insisted he draw something, too. One cryptic statement about not needing to hold a scalpel or a needle to heal, about the city being his patient, too, not just the people in it, and then an announcement that she needed to go wash her hair, and suddenly it was just him and the wall, both all but spinning in the whirlwind she left behind. But then, that had always been his sister. A tiny hurricane that blew through the universe, upset the order of things, made them better. Who was he to argue?

The wall in front of him holds a passable facsimile of a spaceship. A Firefly, surrounded by the whorls and dots of River's painted galaxies. Delicately, he makes another small brushstroke before becoming aware of someone else nearby. "I'm not much of an artist," he admits, a little self-conscious. He lowers his hands, fiddles with the rolled-up cuff of a shirtsleeve. "But when a teenage girl tells you to paint, I guess you paint."

You're Simon.

[ She's perched on a nearby pile of rubble, just high enough to seem a little difficult for your average young woman to have climbed, especially soundlessly. It's sturdy enough to hold her weight. She's smiling faintly; it widens when he speaks and looks up at her. ]

I'm a friend of River's.

[A flash of suspicion follows his feeling of surprise, settled into a guarded wariness even as he smiles politely back. A friend of River's? Maybe. He trusts his sister, but he's spent too long protecting her to trust immediately, even if the word 'friend' does weight considerably in his decision.]

I'm Simon. A friend of River's, you said? She hasn't said much about friends yet, but I'm glad she's making them. What's your name?

Wanda. Maximoff.

[ In case he prefers distance first. The distrust is carefully wrapped into the smile, but Wanda has the benefit of seeing him already through River's eyes, There is nothing rose tinted there: love cannot distort anything a telepath sees. She knows he's a good person. It prompts forthrightness: ]

I am like her, enough. I read minds.

Ms. Maximoff. It's a pleasure to meet you.

[Politeness, always. Still he falls back on that, even after the time they've spent on Serenity, in less than polite company. It's politeness that keeps the keen interest in her statement from overtaking him, from demanding answers. From thinking of his own lack of depth in this situation.]

No offense, but...there's no one like River. But I'm glad there's someone here she has something in common with. How did you meet?

And you, Doctor.

[ He chooses Ms. She follows his lead, and smiles. Expected, of a brother. He's right, there's no one like River. They have overlap, but she is a hurricane, uncontained, unquantified. ]

She painted me. I am [ Gesturing inside the house ] on the right hand side, the red figure.

[ A woman, in orange and red, entwined with the stars. It's very flattering. ]

[She smiles again, and this time he smiles back. It's a small expression, still restrained, but no longer that automatic reflex with no feeling behind it.]

I saw that one. She must like you. It isn't just anyone who ends up one of River's subjects.

[Although sometimes her tastes can be...eclectic, there's a feel to that painting. Not manic, like some of her other art. It's calm. That's a good sign.]

River's actually not here right now. I think she's down by the river, working on another project, left me here to finish this. [He gestures at the painting, the unfinished ship caught among stars.]

[ She understands. Someone is gentle with River, and Simon looks at them like they've just saved an orphanage. Wanda is not the same way about Pietro: he is prickly but equally quick to kindness. ]

Serenity? She told — [ ah ] showed me.

[To him, they have. It's not always easy for people to be around River. She's not a girl who makes you comfortable. Sees too much, reacts in ways most people find unpredictable. But she is his sister, and he will spend the rest of his life atoning for the months it took him to realize something was wrong.]

Showed you? With her...abilities.

[His phrasing is careful, but only because he doesn't want to seem too eager. River was always perceptive, even before. Psychic ability isn't the thing that bothers him, it's what it does to her that makes him worry.]

With mine.

[ It's not a correction. It is difficult to explain how she and River talk to and understand each other: they are girls made to be armies, honed and terrifying. An unstoppable force is never met with anything other than discomfort, and that is the best case scenario. ]

[ Somewhere, even Wanda's afraid of what the scarlet is — a force beyond anyone's understanding, most of all her own. ]

We are [ gesturing ] — always listening. She said Serenity, I saw it; I knew it as though I was there.

[With hers, she says, and it isn't the stretch of belief it might have been once. Not after he's seen River's brain, heard her saying things she couldn't know. But still, he isn't like them, and he struggles a little to put it all on terms his mind can understand and process.]

So she...talked. In a way. And you listened. Or--broadcast, and received, maybe, would be better terms. You'll forgive me, there isn't exactly a prepared language for this, where we're from, at least not one I'm familiar with. Was it...visual? Just sensory perceptions, or was it more like, like memory?

There's not one where I am from, either.

[ Which is hardly reassuring, but the scientific approach so far has failed no one. ]

It is hard to explain. Perhaps a demonstration would help.

[Again, that flash of wariness. It's one thing to let River in his head, but to let a stranger...his defensive instincts are what they are. He's spent too long taking care of them, keeping them hidden and safe, to go taking careless risks.

And yet...here's a chance to understand a little of what River's talents might mean. A chance to learn how to better help her. What kind of brother would he be if he refused? He takes a deep breath, abandoning the painting in favor of a chance.]

What would I have to do?

[ There's paint on his hands, not yet dry. Wanda clasps her hands behind her back and skips a little, a movement reminiscent of River. ]

Nothing you don't want.

[ He is one of the last people she wants afraid of her. ]

[It isn't fear. Maybe it should be; maybe he of all people should know the risks. But it's not fear, just a healthy caution, a respect for a procedure he knows nothing about. Like learning a new surgical technique.

The way she moves reminds him of his sister, and fear becomes even more unlikely.]

I want to understand.

[ Maybe it should be. It isn't. ]

Then we will show you. When we talk, you can come along to listen.

...Alright. Listen, that sounds easy enough. I think I can do that.

[He can, right? ....Right?]

"You're in the habit of taking orders from teen girls? That seems like a mistake."

Not a mistake Mello's in the habit of making, although he's apparently not opposed to making mistakes in general, as evidenced by the fact that he's whitewashing the next wall over in preparation for having another mural painted there. He wouldn't be caught dead doing this kind of work if it weren't for an extremely good reason. Oh well - Simon doesn't need to know that. Nobody does, in fact; for all anyone should be able to tell, Mello is just another helpful citizen trapped in this underground city with the rest of them.

"I wouldn't call it a habit," is the dry response, Simon glancing over at the younger blond man a few meters over. "But when that teenage girl is your younger sister, you learn some orders are worth following." There's a fondness to his voice that always comes out when talking about River, about the lighter parts of her heart he's just rediscovering. No, he wouldn't have refused this, not for anything. She'd been so happy, so sure. No matter what this place was, something that could give her that look was worth cherishing.

Mm. Siblings. That explains a lot, at least in a hypothetical sense; as an orphaned only child, Mello has spent plenty of time living with other children, but none with whom he'd formed the sort of positive bond siblings are reputed to have. The children at Wammy's House were all too often pitted against each other in competition, and Mello was more competitive than most. Still, he can imagine what that might be like, how an attitiude of cooperation might be fostered instead, under those circumstances. He nods.

"That makes sense. If you live with her, certain concessions would need to be made in maintaining an alliance."

The bond Simon and River share goes beyond that of most siblings. After all, most siblings don't literally have a shadow organization after them. Most younger sisters don't have the secrets of an entire government in their head along with God knows what psychic abilities, most older brothers haven't spent their entire fortune, sacrificed a career, and risked their lives to save her. There are concessions he'll grant to her that he'd grant to no one else, from painting to murder, and none of it requires any more explanation to him than 'she's my sister.'

"That's one way to put it," is his careful reply, though the word 'alliance' has him stiffening slightly. Bad memories. Memories still far too close to home. "Another would be, we're family, and that means working together."

That's something Mello will never be able to understand on more than a hypothetical level. Sure, he has someone he's willing to kill for - even die for - but they're not close. They're incapable of working together (or so he believes). They don't even particularly like each other (again, Mello's belief).

"Is that what family means?" This is interesting. An orphan feels the absence of family most acutely, perhaps. At the very least, this is a topic that is somewhat novel for Mello, so it's not only captured but held his attention.

"One of its meanings, yes," he answers, still cautious. "It's a complicated word." He thinks for a moment, paintbrush suspended over his work. "Well. Maybe it's not so complicated. She's my sister. I love her. If me painting makes her happy, then I'll paint. Guess it's actually pretty simple, when you look at it." He looks over again at Mello's whitewashing.

"What are you working on?"

Still interesting. The idea of having the sort of bond of which Simon speaks, an unconditional love that simply delights in the other person's happiness, is an incredibly foreign notion for Mello. Maybe he knew what family meant once, but it was a very long time ago, and more has happened to convince him against the existence of love in the interim.

"So would you classify that more as philia or storge?" He's read about different types of love in intellectual settings, of course. As for Simon's question, he gives the wall in front of him a quick glance, then looks back at the other man.

"This? A third coat of Hope's version of Antique White, unless I've lost count." He offers a thin smile, an expression that looks out of place on him. At least he's trying to appear more personable.

"A little of both, I suppose," he says, not missing a beat. Sure, the greek words weren't exactly commonly used in his profession, but he'd learned the language regardless, as much as there was left to learn. Unlike some of his other classmates that had only memorized the necessary words, without looking beyond that. He'd never been able to stop halfway. "It's my experience that words don't exactly cover feelings. They get close, sometimes. But they're never quite there."

He's a little uncomfortable, talking this much about River with a stranger. The relaxed atmosphere of the moment, the memory of shared paintings had loosened him up some, but there's always that return to propriety. "Three coats? Must be something hard to cover up. Are you looking for a fresh start?"

Edited 2016-08-13 02:11 (UTC)

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test drive meme #11

Simon Tam | Firefly | brackets or prose friendly

hope.

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two. pretend you're surprised you get this asshole.

GASP shock amazement etc.

i know, no one expects the inquisition, etc etc.

what's mafia for inquisition

it's "l'inquisizione" i believe

gratzie

non ti lascerò mai, mio cestino di frutta celestiale <3

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