fairynuff | TEST DRIVE #6

caer scima

[Everything is terrible. Teddy's decided this almost immediately. The sack over his head was bad enough, but Caer Scima is so gloomy. Billy would probably dig it, admittedly, but Teddy is side-eyeing everything within eyeshot.

He's green, at the moment. Green and huge and in a corner, giant sandwich in one hand. He can't see anyone he knows. This in itself just makes everything even more terrible. On one hand, he's at a tactical disadvantage being on his own. On the other hand, how is it even fair that he gets kidnapped by fairies and everyone else gets to not get kidnapped by fairies?]

the station

[By the time he gets to the Station, Teddy is beyond ready for a nap. So naturally what he does is buy a large caramel latte with soy milk and collapse in a corner. The laptops are bust. His instagram account doesn't exist here, neither does his Facebook. There is no way to text Billy, no way to send an SOS.

He gulps down his latte with a giant, green frown and sulkily sets up a new Rumblr account. Might as well blog his feelings or whatever. ]

locket - text

I'm pretty sure this is a long shot, but I'm looking for my friends. Or even anyone who knows me? It's Hulkling. I'm at the Station and I think the fairy barista's are staging an intervention between me and coffee.

o1

[ Among imps and fae-things, Iron Bull sticks out like a sore thumb. More accurately, he sticks out like a whole handful of sore thumbs, a giant among normal folk, now near comically large compared to most of his... companions. There was something about the imps that gave him the creeps, like little demons, but tonight, there was food and drink aplenty, and it would be plain rude not to indulge, a little. Bull has thrown himself right into the revelry, and despite his suspicion of his captors-cum-benefactors. And for such small things, they sure can drink.

Bull's currently out drinking all of them, though it's hardly a fair fight. This stuff is nothing compared to what he usually drinks, but admittedly, the taste is far superior. As you're walking, he drags you in for a toast. Partially because he wants to hang out with someone that doesn't make him vaguely uneasy, stranger or no. ]

Come on, if we have to put up with this shit, we might as well drink to it.

o3 - locket

So... right. [ He both looks and sounds incredulous, peering into the locket. ] I'm going to assume this thing actually works, and that I'm not talking to myself and looking like an idiot. But... [ He sighs, and gives a one shouldered shrug. ] It's all the same crap, really.

Anything interesting going on out there?

(01) [The food is lovely, but the magic is strange- neither Free nor Charter, though the magic in Caer Glaem reminds her more of the latter.

Still, she's careful not to overindulge on wine, or the food, preferring to make polite conversation with the other guests. They say they're here for a war, but Sabriel seeks more information- particularly about the Unseelie. She doesn't want to get dragged into someone else's war, but some of the stories sound suspiciously similar to Free Magic.]

(03) [Bells were Sabriel's preferred instrument- but the ones she'd arrived with were also necromantic tools, too powerful to be used simply to practice with.

Luckily she'd found replacements, and Caer Glaem's bailey is soon echoing with the chimes of bells, the notes weaving together to form a mournful song.]

(Locket-voice) I'm still not entirely sure why I was brought here, but since I am... is any part of the Drabwurld troubled by the Dead? I am the Abhorsen- [And here, the confidence in Sabriel's voice wavers] That is, a counter-necromancer. I don't particularly care about whatever the courts are fighting over, but laying the Dead to rest is my responsibility. Leaving my own world doesn't change that.

Edited 2015-01-04 21:56 (UTC)

( AT THE FEAST. )

[ Okay, so don't ask him exactly what, but something weird is going on. One minute he's masterminding - or, okay, so he's looking at a pretty awesome sword which unfortunately it looks like he dropped somewhere along the way, but he's totally the brains of the operation! Monty and Miller are just the... technical... something. It was Jasper's idea, anyway. But then the next minute someone quite literally pulls the wool over his eyes and he's off on a bumpy ride that reminds him of being taken by the Grounders.

He's dead. He's so dead, he's sure of it.

Except he doesn't feel dead? He feels pretty solid, the bumps in his elbows and knees still hurt, and prodding the band aid on his neck reveals it's still pretty tender underneath. Jasper always thought death would be more like... well, like what got him sent to the skybox to start with. So maybe he's not dead, and that means this is bad. Right? Last time he trusted something like this he ended up looking through a vent at a warehouse full of people crammed into tiny cages.

Jasper twists his lips in displeasure and looks around again, hands crammed in his pockets. Monty, Maya, Clarke, anyone familiar - it's been a while since he missed the feel of a gun this much. Anyone getting too close is likely to make the skinny boy jump out of his skin. ]

( LOCKET; OPEN TO BOTH COURTS. )

Uh...

[ Jasper looks like he's not totally sure the video feed is actually transmitting. He taps the thing a couple of times, resulting in a disorienting wobble in the view. ]

This is Jasper Jordan of the 100. If anyone--

[ He stops himself short. It's probably not a good idea to let on that he's looking for a way out straight away. This definitely doesn't look like Mount Weather stuff, but... Clarke would play her cards close to her chest. ]

Uh, if anyone knows where I can find Clarke Griffin? Or - or Monty Green, or Maya...

[ The names are pronounced with deliberate clarity, until he gets to where Maya's last name should be and... he realises he doesn't actually know it. Skip that part. ]

... I'd be pretty grateful. Thanks.

[ The flash of a grin that hints at mischief but mostly says he's willing to co-operate, and then the feed terminates. ]

( OR WILDCARD. )

( 1. FEAST. )

[ She would think, at least, that demons would be wiser than this. That they would disguise their attempts to steal her body and walk the world in her skin, but instead they prance around with grins and encourage her to enjoy the feast. Drink! Eat! Dance! They could be more obvious if they tried! Utterly pathetic.

Any attempts to urge her with them is waved away with a few cutting words and impressive scowl, though the years and her son made her softer, less driven by selfish desire, Morrigan was not so much changed. The woman commands the gaze of any who looks upon her, dark and mysterious, even amongst the creatures of this court. The air about her is thick, fury dancing just underneath her skin. ]

If this is a trick, 'tis the most disappointing display I have ever laid eyes upon.

[ Truly, she wishes to believe this to be a dream, the Fade, but Morrigan knows much of the Fade to know it is not. She has traveled places no other has seen, discovered things that have been lost for thousands of years. She feels the magic in the stones, in the air, sweet as honey and bitter as lemons. There is no Veil here to be pulled, manipulated, no Rifts. ]

( 2. LA LLORONA. )

[ The darkness of the forest is as familiar to her as the Wilds; it is larger, thicker, and untouched by Blight. The lure of ancient ruins and dead cites, the possibility of something deep inside of long forgotten knowledge or objects of immense power, is too difficult for her to ignore.

She makes her ventures no secret, caring little if she is followed, the foolish will be dealt with by the forest, the wiser will be able to follow her trail straight into the dilapidated ruins. Though will not find her.

Morrigan spends hours amongst the stones, the old bones of more ancient cities and civilizations that undoubtedly existed here long before the courts formed. She twists the magic seeped into stones, weaved into the very air, around her fingers. It is different to manipulating the Fade, different from some of the old magics she knows. It raises goosebumps on her skin, leaving it tingling. The distraction is enough, for the moment, to take away from the ache in her chest.

But then her reprieve is broken by the soft sound of footsteps and a single falling stone. Ah, she is surprised that it has taken this long. When she reveals herself Morrigan stands at the top of half crumbled stairs. ] Well, well, well─ [ Steps are taken as she speaks, slow and steady. Morrigan walks with the single mindedness of a wolf stalking it's prey. ] What have we here? A scavenger come to pick the bones of the dead? Or a soul lost amongst the dark forest, come to seek refugee in this ancient place?

( 3. WILD CARD. )

[ BAM! ]

Edited 2015-01-04 22:08 (UTC)

i. seelie court feast

[ Not the worst outcome to agreeing to help little people, Yun supposes, although she had assumed she would remain a spirit! Apparently not the case, having found herself alive again, in a castle full of people, and a feast in full swing, but none of those were something she could complain about! Not that she was ever much for complaining to begin with.

No, no, rather than wonder too much at it, she's ended up outside on one of the open balconies leading out from the bustling ballroom. With her, a plate full of cake and the company of what could very well be the entire pixie population of the castle. See, the cake isn't for her, oh no, definitely not her.

Instead, she's offering pieces to the little and bright creatures flitting about her and smiling brightly at their antics. Anyone who should come across the scene will find her turning that same smile on them. ]

I never imagined I'd find anything that loved sweets more than I, but it looks like I was wrong. [ An idle conversation starter if any, but she will add a greeting to it after. ] Hello.

ii. the great greenwood

[ What's this? Children wandering the deeper parts of the Greenwood, far from any well-travelled paths all on their own? What could possibly go wrong? Yun's certainly not worried, even though she travels with no obvious gear or defense, nor will she seem particularly surprised should anyone else turn up.

Out on her own like this, it's only easier to hear the forest that way. She wanders along, humming quietly to herself as she goes, stopping at some points, by trees or at a waterfall to close her eyes and listen. Which way to go next... where to avoid... what do the trees think are worth a trip to... ]

iii. wildcard

[ Or choose your own little shaman girl adventure! ]

Edited 2015-01-04 22:33 (UTC)

The Feast:

[Even amongst a room full of strange people, Yrel stood out. A six foot three blue woman with long, curved horns and hoofed feet and dressed in holy armor, with a pulsating crystalline two handed warhammer strapped to her back? Not to mention the empty eyes that glowed with a soft blue light, and gave no indication of where she was looking, even as her head turned this way and that.]

[She was standing off to the side of the crowd, watching the people, mostly humans it seemed, rushing this way and that through the feast. A few months ago, this would have been impossible to her, but meeting her new friends from beyond the portal, humans and gnomes and so many others, had taught her much about the universe. She had even hoped to go and see their world once, though...not quite in this manner.]

[She hadn't fought the faeiries when they beckoned her here, not realizing it was a trap until it was too late to turn back, and she kept chastising herself every time she saw one of them flit by. A young and foolish mistake on what she thought was a growing pile of failures. Her people needed her, and now she was...what...conscripted into someone else's war? Not that she could object, she'd tried, it had accomplished nothing.]

[Which led her here, standing by the feast, watching everyone else eat. Some had just arrived, like her, others had been here long months. Yet they seemed to take it in stride. Perhaps that was what she was supposed to do? She knew she at least had to eat. So she finally drew in a breath and took a step forward...only to walk right into someone who had the misfortune of coming around the corner just then.]

Oh! [Her voice had a faint, otherworldly tinge to it, but the tone was clearly familiar to anyone. Embarrassment.] I...ah. Sorry. Excuse me.

The Station:

[The station had sounded intriguing, and in a way more like something she would be familiar with, and yet when she'd arrived she had been sorely disappointed. It was nothing like the technology from her world. If anything, it reminded her far too much of the gnomes. Not that gnomes were bad, just...well. No sense speaking ill of people that weren't there.]

[Still, she'd made the journey, so leaving without looking around would be remiss, yes? She should at least spend the day there before heading back...]

[She could be found in the electronic store, accidentally breaking something, or sitting somewhere being fascinated by television, or just exploring the still-destroyed areas of the station trying to guess what might have done the damage...]

Wildcard:

[Anything goes!]

At the Feast

[Wow. That's. Certainly a thing, sitting at that there table. Maybe it's human, but at seven feet tall, swaddled in rough brown robes, clumsy mittens on its hands and a blank white mask covering its face, it seems unlikely. Whatever it is, though, it isn't causing any trouble. It's just calmly tearing bits of bread off of a loaf and soaking them in broth, then tucking them underneath its mask.

Maybe you're both reaching for the same bit of food, and you bump hands. Maybe you're staring rudely, and that mask turns toward you, something glittering in the black behind the eye-holes. Or maybe you're brave enough to just say hi...?]

Edited 2015-01-04 22:13 (UTC)

[Feast]

[After her initial anger over this whole deal has passed, Lemina starts to look on the brightside of things. And the brightside? A ton of magical people. She knows what to do.

So it doesn't matter what you're doing, you'll suddenly have Lemina at your side, bright and smiling, as she goes through a seemingly well rehearsed speech.]

Hi there! I'm Lemina Ausa, Premier of the Magic Guild of Vane, and I'm here to brighten this day with a limited time, special welcoming feast offer! For almost pennies, you too can now become part of the rich history of the most powerful magicians in the world! So please let me answer any questions you might have about your future in the Magic Guild! I'm currently seeking recruits for all positions so power - except for Premier of course - is unlimited!

[Station]

[Or you might be lucky to find her at the Station, trying to figure out an iPad. She holds it up, flipping it over, frowning to herself.]

This doesn't run on magic... But what creates this illusion? Is it magic so powerful even I can't sense it...?

[She taps the screen a few times, only for it to blare rock music suddenly. Lemina screeches and drops it and immediately covers her face.]

Someone please tell me it's not expensive!

1)

There's very few things Merlin likes less than being tricked into something he wanted nothing to do with. Being dragged into a war so far from home? That even topped being tricked here in the first place, and it made him glare at the creatures who tried to give him food and drink, and he bit back on speaking to avoid further tricks from them.

It all leads to him picking up an apple however, and a knife, the nastiest looking eating utensil he can find on the table, and starts to make his way through the crowd. As shabby a man as he looks, especially compared to some, he doesn't look out of place as he holds himself tall, dark eyes searching about for anyone familiar or interesting and it's those that he approaches, standing behind them and looking over their shoulder or as much in their space as he can, carefully slicing a piece of the apple off with the knife and offering it to them while possibly glaring at nearby imps.

"Please don't tell me they're always like this." What this was, either the feast or the imps or dragging him there in the first place or something else entirely he would leave for said person to fill in. A test really, to see what they first thought of.

3)

[MAKE UP YOUR OWN, no really, Merlin likes to go wherever and such. Prose and brackets are fine too!]

1
[This place reminds him of the Fade, but as long as he doesn't let a demon tempt him he should be fine. No harm in nibbling at the fine food and drinks available when it's offered freely.]

Almost as good as home.

[He looks oddly at ease despite his obvious newness.]

3
[Dorian sounds clearly annoyed as he addresses his locket.]

I'm sick of this question so let me tell you all. I'm a mage, but I do not do parlour tricks for your amusement. Now leave me be before I set you on fire.

the feast

[Faeries? Imps? A war going on? This all sounds so much like it's out of a Disney movie to Hiro that he's almost expecting to hear about a lost princess. Everyone looks like they're out of some kind of nerd convention. The lack of technology is making him twitch, that's for certain, even as he indulges in the food offered. Aunt Cass couldn't whip up a feast this big, even if she had to feed all the hungry SFIT students.

Speaking of, he couldn't see anyone he knew, which was a bit disappointing. Fred would get a kick out of this place that was for sure. Hiro pops another piece of fruit into his mouth, turning away from the party for a moment before he bumped into someone.

It was easy to do when you were as short as he was.]

Sorry! I uh, didn't see... [Craning his neck up to look, Hiro nearly spits the piece of fruit back out into his hand.] ...hooooooly crap you're big.

the station

[Now this was what he was talking about. The minute Hiro had heard about the station he'd amscrayed out of the Caer like it was nobody's business. Sure it wasn't up to the levels of San Fransokyo, but there was so much technology he had to jam his hands into his pockets to stop from reaching out to poke and prod at everything.

His phone even worked. Hiro had felt it beeping when he'd stepped into the Station and pulled it from his pocket.]

Huh. No signal.

[Well that was disappointing (and kind of expected) but hey, it worked. That meant that he could flip through photos and old video messages. Better than nothing he guessed. Maybe he could even build another Baymax while he was here. He might not work outside the Station but he could help people who came here.]

locket - text

I know this is probably a long shot, but do you think we could make technology work outside the Station? I know you guys are fond of your little D&D session, but it's REALLY inconvenient for those of us who like the comforts of the modern age. You can't tell me nobody's ever thought about setting up some kind of communications towers or whatever.

Edited 2015-01-04 22:47 (UTC)

[ Hey, Teen Wolf cast! Since this jerk hasn't been in the show for 100 years, I don't want to step on any toes, so I'm gonna be be playing him from that void of time before s3 starts/he leaves for London. Y'know, just so he's not naked and only holding a key. But let's PM and hash out if there's a better canon point, maybe? Or feel free to imply something different if you're commenting! Really, I'm super-open/somewhat undecided.]

Feast --> anywhere

This place is beautiful, in its otherworldly sort of way, but Jackson only sees red. He has a life to live and get back to -- a life he'd fought for, a life he'd bought at a steep price, a life that deserved to be lived to the fullest. He has to get out of here, and he'll be damned if a werewolf is ever reduced to begging for his life ~~(again)~~. He's not that scared child anymore, or so he tells himself.

Maybe his drink had been spiked, maybe it's some kind of wolfsbane-fueled hallucination or one of his -- one of their pack's little "training exercises." Regardless, he's clearly lost control of himself. He grits his teeth. No. Never again.
Unless stopped for conversation, he leaves the party with a scowl and goes searching for someone with real answers.

"Lydia? McCall?" He'll list out names endlessly, each one angrier than the last, until he peaks and slumps against a wall, claws out and drawing his own blood through clenched fists, in a temporary admission of defeat.

Wildcard
[ Hit me with your best shot! ]

(I will likely add more options later but I sadly have an essay to write atm.)

(The Feast)

[Cesare is nursing a glass of wine, limbs relaxed, leaning into the back of his chair when he spots someone that he does not like. They look all too calm, too confident, too at home for his liking. It seems odd. To say that Cesare had been unhappy with being captured and transported against his will would be an understatement, but he had calmed down, at least somewhat, his brief but furious rage shifting into a silent focus as he decided that he was going to find out the best tactic in this place. He needs to get back to Rome. He has a kingdom to seize.

He follows the person, calmly slinking in behind them, not hiding but certainly not making a show of himself either until he puts a firm hand around their elbow and leans in against their ear, speaking, his voice low.

Tell me: what do you know that I do not?

Edited 2015-01-04 22:50 (UTC)

A:
[There's a child missing and Kate's determined to find out where the little girl has gone. She's checked everywhere in the Seelie castle and grounds. Now, she's moved to checking outside and is steadily moving towards the Station.

If she has to, she'll check every inch of this strange place. A child's life is at stake after all, and Kate's not one to let odd happenings stop her from doing her job.]

B
[Hi, there, have an unhappy police detective in your face.]

And where were you when the stabbing took place?

[Because, yep, she sure is in NYPD homicide detective-mode.]

01: The Feast

[The sights, the sounds, the color. All of that was enough to temporarily wash away most of the panic at ending up in a strange place. Still Himeno outright stares at everyone, or almost everyone, that she passes. There are so few humans here!

Creatures that look very much like humans, but missing horns, or mobile ears, or tails, or hooves, or wings. Why, most of the creatures here look like never once in their history did they ever have any more than four limbs! It's so strange. Beautiful, but strange.

So of course, caught up in her thoughts and her staring, Himino isn't paying the closest attention to where she walks, and so has to apologize several times for bumping into people, or stepping on an outstretched foot, or someone not expecting a centaur and bumping into her flanks. She's sweet about it, and sincerely sorry every time, but is so glad when she reaches the tables.

She ends up with a plate piled high (with maybe a couple too many desserts) and shyly smiling out from under a fall of bright copper-chestnut curls.]

Do you mind if I sit with you? There isn't enough space at the other tables.

[Her horse-half may be only pony-sized (and completely covered, down to knees and hocks, for modesty's sake) but she still manages to take up a lot of room.]

03: The Bailey

[The festivities are nice, and everything is amazing, but the crush of the crowd gets to be so much so Himeno flees and wanders until she ends up outside. It's quieter out her and she relaxes, her hooves almost silent on the grass and gravel. Eventually she sits herself down on a stone bench. It's a complicated process, involving getting her hind legs tucked up under her on the bench, and she takes up the whole thing, essentially laying across it with her fore-hooves dangling down.

After a moment she hugs herself and starts sniffling. Whoops, somebody is getting homesick already.]

But wh-what about Mom and--and--- I just want to go home.

( arrival; caer scima )

[Being rolled out of the bag that the bastard imp kidnapped her in is not particularly helpful, especially with her injury. What's even worse is she doesn't have her crutches or the makeshift brace that was made for her.]

--the fu--[She's still sprawled out on the floor, looking back up at the ceiling, questioning just what she's looking at. This isn't the campsite from part of the Ark. In fact it's much too nice to be from anything she's used to. Grounders don't have this kind of finery either.

She rolls on her side to at least try and get a vantage point. But it doesn't help. There seems to be more people being bustled through, dropped off by the imps.]

Okay, where the hell am I?

( the station )

[Technology. Glorious technology. Even if it took an arm and a leg to get her here, at least she feels like she has some use. She's sitting at a table with a pile of wires and metal trinkets around her. It's not that she needs this to survive, but she certainly feels like others have needed her to have this at her disposal to survive.

She half wonders if they can make a campsite. Screw war. She's already in the middle of one back home, and she's barely managed to come out of that alive. No thanks to Murphy.]

( video )

[Well at least they've got some pre-made comm system here. Of course everything in her wants to take it a part. At least it's something.]

Abby? Clarke? Are you there? [She's not all that hopeful to be honest, but she has to try.]

I'm looking for my people, the sky people or the 100. If anyone knows their whereabouts, Finn or Bellamy or his sister, Octavia, give me a shout.

[She wants to end the feed there, already looking hesitant and distant, but she knows she's not going to survive long like this. In space she doesn't need her legs, but on Earth and apparently in the Drabwurld, she does.]

I-- I had a bullet hit my spine back home. I had someone look at it, remove it. But I can't use my leg. [Admitting this is hard enough.] I don't know what I'm going to do here without a brace or even modern medicine.

I'll take any advice.

Edited 2015-01-04 23:01 (UTC)

caer scima.
[ well, the feast and everything involved in it had kept peter interested for a few minutes. it's kind of cool, being recruited to help save his world or whatever, and the medieval theme is pretty badass. still, it's not like it's any better at keeping his attention, especially when there isn't anything exciting happening.

instead, then, he finds himself exploring the rest of the castle and the grounds. he tries to do it slowly, really, but eventually he's just a sudden wind in the hallways and rooms, so fast he isn't even a blur. he can literally be found anywhere, probably snitching small interesting things like a magpie, eating an apple up high on a wall somewhere, or even playing minor pranks on people in the ballroom. (wasn't a chair just there? where'd that plate of food go?) it's probably just a little dangerous, given that there are a lot of powerful people in this castle, but that's part of the thrill, right? ]

network.
[the guy in the feed is a teenager, slim and careless, dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt. he has strangely silver hair and a pair of goggles resting around his neck, and he's kicked back in his chair with his hands laced together behind his head as he squints at the locket. ]

Sothisthingisreallylikeavideo-phoneorsomething,right? [ holy shit, he talks fast. he's quiet for a moment or two, then seems to be taking pains to slow himself down. ] If we're supposed to be fighting a war and saving the world and all that crap, how come we have timeforthingslikefeasts? Sounds shady.

[ he lets his chair drop back on all four legs again and he unlaces his hands, lifting one in a short wave. ]

Anyway, hey, I'm Peter Maximoff, and I'm really fast. I guess it's how I'm supposed to be a contributing member of society here, which is kinda' funny, since itwassomethingIwassupposedtohidebackhome.

ota.
[ or feel free to hit me up with your own scenario! ]

[ please let me know about spoilers and if you are okay/not okay with them!! ]

ONE;

[ When he arrived, Solas was, at least at first, rather put out. He had been rather busy and now he was tugged into another conflict, one he had no interest in whatsoever. The imps around him made noises and tried to tug him this way and that but he did little more then send them off with a stern, careful word, shaking his head and making great pains to ignore the pulls of the things around him - food, there, drink, a library somewhere, he's sure, with information, all the things that he should look into but finds himself wanting to ignore.

This is not the Fade; it is not the dreamland he is so accustomed to feeling and knowing. This is another reality, one that he has been drawn into, that is certain. Even now the creatures are trying to tug him here and there and he is frustrated, shaking them off and stalking to a far corner to think, to consider. He still has his magic, if nothing else, and his backpack, hanging off his shoulders and making his lips turn down into a frown even as one arm crosses another, his fingertips trailing over his chin carefully. This was due real consideration and he was only wary of how much time he had.

If this were any other time his first thought would be to search for the Inquisitor and their companions, but he doesn't imagine that to be the most open of places. Instead, he finds a chair and accepts the cup the imps offer him, taking a sip without looking -- until he realises that it's tea, his nose wrinkling as he shoves it to one side. ]

TWO;

[ The locket turns on and all that is given is one small line of text; hardly the most conpicuous of things, but Solas is making an effort, at least. ]

Tell me; what do you know of this place? What magic lies here?

THREE;

[ WILDCARD! Feel free to run into Solas outside, in a forest or on the lockets c: ]

[This is not Narnia, no. It is not her palace between the two hills. But, she is, without a doubt, a woman who can adjust to things when she must. She'd outsmarted those obnoxious little brats and that annoying lion, hadn't she?

She, Jadis, was Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Isles. None of these Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve she saw scampering about would stop that. None would dare. And when she found those abominable little imps, she'd turned them into stone statues.

However, the locket she's been given is a pretty bauble and she's seen a few of the usurpers using it to talk to, like a looking glass of sorts. After a few moments, she manages the clasp and opens it, poking it with her wand to make sure it doesn't have any sort of magic enchantments that she can detect. There is magic coming from it, of course, but she's not sure what kind. After a moment of disdainful regarding of the trinket, she speaks into it clearly.]

Tell me, mortals. What is this world exactly? Can one use a trinket and return to their own worlds? I've seen that before.

001: The Feast

[ He should be disturbed by all of this and admittedly part of him is completely disturbed by this. There are some things that happen in the world and while they include the potential to gain superspeed after being struck by lightning most of the time they don't include things like finding yourself in a completely different universe. To be fair, he's pretty sure he's in shock and once it wears off he'll freak out. Probably.

For now though he's kind of starving and there's food so freaking out takes a back seat to stuffing his face with way more food than anyone his size has any right to be stuffing their face with. It's in that course of stuffing his face that he's likely to go for the same food that someone else is going for because he can't pay attention to his surroundings sometimes. When he realizes that he's trying to take the food from someone else's hand, well he sort of yanks his own hand back. ]

[ A pause. ]

002: The Station

[ As it turns out, he can run to the station and it's a fact that pleases him to no end. Maybe he's a bit spoiled but living in the 21st century makes him really want to have things from the 21st at hand.

Of course, Barry might have miscalculated how much energy he'd use running here and he's admittedly a little woozy. Not enough to make him pass out but until he actually finds some place to sit down, he's stumbling a bit. It probably doesn't help that he's trying to pat his pockets to find one of the bars from Cisco in his pants, but he can't really help it. After about the second person he stumbles into he starts apologizing. ]

003: Locket | Voice and open to both courts

[ There's a heavy sort of sigh on his head before he continues. ]

[This is not Mirkwood. That is to say, he doesn't believe it to be so. They'd been warned about the very air within the forest being heavy with illusion, though considering the source for the information, and how he'd (unwillingly, he'd claimed) abandoned them at the edge of the forest, Thorin had originally disregarded it.

And surely no illusion of any kind can be this strong.]

001 - Arrival Party
[There are tales of fairies even in Middle Earth, and while they're (as far as Thorin knows) nothing more than that - tales - it's with great distrust and a heavy helping of suspicion that he keeps to the very fringe of the merrymaking. This isn't his world, and this isn't the quest he and the company have been on for months now, with the clock ticking down to the final hour, so to speak. And as such, he is in no mood for revelry, for even the revelry itself is against his will.

He's seen no one he knows, and while there's still the nagging doubt that perhaps this is the illusion Gandalf had spoken of at the edge of the forest, he's paid no heed to those doubts. There are others here, however, that he does not know, as newly-minted in this place as he himself, though for his part he certainly has no interest in joining in, choosing to even mistrust food and drink, if illusion this be, instead making sure to keep his back to the wall, and one eye on the others. He doesn't like it; not the explanation he's been given, nor the expectation that he's supposed to accept it all and disregard the quest to reclaim Erebor for some otherworldy beings' whims.]

002 - The Smithy
[The smithy is, at least, something familiar. It's a double-edged sword (to wit), shaping metal into something usable and recognizable, dredging up long-time memories of working in the forges of Men to survive on the long trek from Erebor after Smaug came, and after the absolute bloodbath that was Azanulbizar. Of surviving as little more than beggars.

But at the same time it's a familiar, soothing rhythm, doing something useful with his time and his hands. It's grounding. He still rebels, internally and with a hot, silent rage, at being here, but there's always been comfort in hammer meeting red hot untempered metal in the process of creation. That is, after all, what dwarves are made to do. Even crownless kings, it seems.

There's a pause in the rhythmic hammering, before he drops the piece in the slack tub, steam hissing upward from the cooling metal, a noise catching his attention before he realizes he's no longer alone with just his thoughts for company.]

If you've something you wish to say, while this cools would be the time to do it.

003 - Choose Your Own Majestic Adventure
[Find Thorin somewhere out and about. Mention the dwarves in the mountain. Go wild.]

Edited 2015-01-04 23:26 (UTC)

A: Feast
[ The feast is okay. He's seen better, but as far as these things go, the spread in front of him is fairly impressive. There are dishes present that he can't put a name to, and he watches other guests' eating habits before trying something himself, plus the alcohol is pretty decent. Well. Damn decent.

The place could use a good rock band, though, because the current musical selections remind him a little too much of home. And home is currently a crapshoot. He'll stay here and play nice (maybe) until he ferrets out more info about this war. ]

B: Network
[ He's settled in a chair somewhere, slouched really; a short, blond guy in flannel, jeans, and a smirk that gets him into more beds and more trouble than it probably should. ]

My name's Random. You won't know me, but it doesn't matter. Any of you fine folk musicians out there? I'm a drummer, [ among various other things] and I'm thinking this world needs a good band.

So what say you?

IN THE COURT.
[By all accounts, Sesshomaru does not appear to be getting into the "mirthful" spirit in the slightest.

The demon lord sits at the table, piled high with food and surrounded by grinning revelers and giggling imps, and simply leers. He leers at this realm that is unfamiliar, at its denizens equally so, and quietly stews to himself I am above them all. Of course, he's been led to believe that such an attitude is not only expected, but welcomed here, that he is but one dark, glistening gem among many, and this leveling reality also serves to infuriate him.

Bakusaiga pulses at his side, furious with this arrangement, while Tenseiga remains silent, as if brooding along with its master. Finally, after so much raucous laughter and hollering and joy that's just as foreign to him here as it was back home, Sesshomaru can take no more.

He stands, lifts up his neighbor's cup full of wine, and spills it all over the floor, a quiet yet succinct demonstration of his distaste.

Whatever happens next he presumes will be more interesting—and infinitely less grating—than all the mindlessness that preceded it.]

VISITING THE ARMORY.
[Sesshomaru has no need for fresh blades, of course, having brought two of the most powerful from his realm. But both boredom and curiosity beckon, and after taking his fill of the hall's wonders, he decides to wander to a place better suited to his tastes. Which meant quieter, essentially, and stinking less of drink.

Without care or concern for what does and doesn't belong to him, Sesshomaru runs his claws over the mounted swords, axes, and other assorted weapons on display. He tests their sharpness, sees what bleeds him and what can't even manage a scratch, before selecting a curious dagger in the shape of a dragon's claw...]

You there.

[...and proceeding to thrust it at the next person who walks through the door. Or rather, just short of their head, pommel firm in his grip.]

If we are to be comrades, I would test you first. Draw arms.

(( Fresh blood here, forgive me if I fumble a bit with the setting! Feel free to wildcard it up if you prefer, too, I'm flexible. ))

[There is a man, long and lean, with wild dark curls and eyes like black holes in the sky, sitting at the table and staring at the food. That sumptious spread, plump juicy fruits and steaming puddings and great roasts...

And he isn't touching a bit of it. Hasn't even dirtied his plate. It's not that he's not hungry. He hasn't eaten in... longer than he can recall, and his stomach is making loud protest at his reticence. But he grew up in the wild English countryside, his head full of stories of the creatures that might populate those woods and hollows, and everything, everything about this situation feels straight out of one of those tales. And there are rules in those stories.

So his plate stays empty. His cup stays dry. Until he can be persuaded otherwise.]

teddy altman / marvel 616

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