TEST DRIVE #6

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

.... jesus | saint young men | court undecided

[deiform]

feast!
[ there's a skinny guy in jeans and a band t-shirt, long hair pulled back in a ponytail, wandering around tonight. he looks out of place for a couple of reasons-- for one thing, he looks kind of excited. for another, even if you're not sensitive to this sort of thing, he seems.. kind of... holy. really holy, actually. like if you're a vampire or something, you probably don't want to hang out with this guy.

still, he's pretty much being a normal guy?? jesus kind of likes it that way, and he's enjoying all of this, but it's also pretty awful, being asked to come help in a war effort. didn't they know that he's a pacifist? but then, maybe he can help by making efforts to reconcile the courts? he just isn't sure yet.

.. in the meantime, the food's really good. he's navigating his way through the crowd with a plate in one hand and a cup in the other, trying to get out to find somewhere a little quieter, when he literally bumps into someone and.. spills wine all over them. ]

Oh! Gosh, I'm really sorry! [ why is he so clumsy??? still, with a little bitty miracle, at least they're clean and dry again, now, and he offers a bright, warm smile in apology. ] There! Are you okay now?


locket!!
[ when the feed flickers on, jesus is smiling as warmly as ever, his hair pinned back in a messy bun, seated in a chair with his feet pulled up on the cushion. he lifts the hand not holding the locket in a little wave, and is that a big, splotchy, ugly scar right in the middle of his palm..? that probably hurt at some point. ]

Hello! This is pretty new for me, I have to say. It's a little like suddenly finding oneself in an RPG..

[ he trails off for a moment, then clears his throat. ]

Um, anyway, please call me Yeshua. [ he shifts to set the locket down, skewing the feed a little, fingers picking absently at a hole in his jeans near his knee. ] I'm.. not much of a fighter. At all, really. I don't really believe in this sort of thing. But I can heal and do a bunch of other things, so no matter which court you're in, I'm willing to help if you need me.


wildcard!!
[ the whatever-you-wanna-do option! ]

oh my god yES ( feast! )

[sangilak]

[ you know, korra doesn't spend a lot of time down here at the feast, but when she brushes by this guy — this weird, nomad looking guy — she can't help but get a buzz of something spiritual off of him.

so excuse her as she turns around with the oddest of looks on her face, watching jesus walk away a few steps.

and you know, as the avatar of the world, the host of the light spirit, jesus might be able to feel something off of her, too. ]

Alessandro Simonelli | Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell/Ladies Grace Adieu | Seelie

[fiercefairyheart]

01. Feast
[In the midst of the chivalric splendor of the Seelie Court it can be difficult to stand out, but Alessandro Simonelli is purposefully or not having a go at it. His features (more fairy than human, from the tilt of his eyebrows, to the angle of his cheekbones, to the supercilious set of his lips) fit almost perfectly with the surroundings, but his clothing is sober, black, and eminently respectable. His bearing is likewise restrained and the wine goblet in his hand remains untasted. Instead he stands and watches, frowning slightly. His peculiar ancestry has left him with eyes immune to fairy glamour and a sensitivity to magic.

The two traits have now unhappily combined until the feast as a whole shows every sign of giving him a terrific headache in the future.

Aware that his behaviour can scarcely be seen as polite, he turns to the first person next to him, determined to make small talk. Cautiously, of course.]

"I beg your pardon, but are you a Christian or one of the Daoine Sidhe?"


03. Locket
[A man dressed as a Regency era clergyman appears, handsome, self-assured and almost preternaturally smug looking. For someone from the early nineteenth century only just introduced to the locket system, he's handling it like a pro.]

Good day. My name is Simonelli. I am but a newcomer to this place -as I have reason to believe many others are as well- but believe nonetheless that it would not be overly presumptuous of me to introduce myself. As a former scholar of the University at Cambridge, ordained priest of the Church of England, lately rector of Allhope, and correspondent with the eminent Mr Baillie of London, I offer my services to any persons requiring assistance with matters of law, divinity, or medicine.

Re: Alessandro Simonelli | Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell/Ladies Grace Adieu | Seelie

[lyorning]

[Aerich's own clothing is borrowed from the Seelie, and seems to have a bit of trouble fitting the length of his arms and legs -- while the fae have many sizes, they seemed to assume most people would be human-sized, so an eight foot tall man is unusual.]

[He had no signs of magic; save for the locket given all shardbearers, but slightly pointed ears and angular features gave him a bit of a fae look himself.]

"I cannot say I am either, sir, as I have not heard those terms before."

Balthier Bunansa | Final Fantasy XII | Unseelie

[no_fates]

1. The Feast

[Well, this certainly was a surprise. All that struggling to get free of those imps, and here he was greeted with a call to arms and a huge feast. The whole situation of being kidnapped left a bitter taste in his mouth, but they at least knew how to welcome him in style.

He spends a great deal of time meandering about the room looking for his partner and noting any exits in case he needs to make a quick getaway. Once he's as satisfied as he can be, he turns his attention to the table and picks up one of the goblets, turning it over in his hands with a smirk.]

Quite the display. Worthy of a leading man, I'll give them that.

2. Around Caer Scima

[Ah, banquets. The smell of food, the frequent imbibing of drinks, the sound of chatter, music, and other forms of entertainment. What a perfect distraction for a sky pirate looking to slip away.

And slip away he does. What better way to explore the place you've been unwillingly brought to than by seeing what hidden treasures they might have? Maybe you caught him wandering the halls, or peeking into one of the rooms. Wherever it is, let's just try not to raise any alarms...]

3. The Station

[Okay, he doesn't know what half of the things here do, but it's at least a good place to meet new people! Not to mention the baths.]

4. Mair

[Pirating is no easy business, especially when your usual mode of transportation is nowhere in sight. Despite some of the facilities, Mair is at least a welcoming respite from traveling. For now, Balthier has made himself comfortable at a table off to the side at one of the local taverns with a bottle of wine. Why not share a drink?]

Wildcard!

[Choose your own adventure! Just be sure to keep an eye on your valuables.]

1. couldn't resist digging up an old muse--no pun intended

[hear_the_wood]

Oh? Like a leading man who is taken for a prisoner?

[The accent is unmistakable. Viera. One in particular Balthier knows well. The partner he was looking for. It is hard to tell with her usual, neutral expression, but Fran is glad to see him. He is here, which is not preferable, since this is no world to them, but he is alive and well, which is a blessing.

She steps forward to meet him, always turning eyes wherever she goes. Even in Ivalice, viera were rare enough to see. Here, she thinks she may be one of a kind. That's alright, though. Fran is accustomed to standing out.

One hand goes to her hip, clawed fingers curling over her hip bone as she takes a casual stance.]

Richard Coeur de Lion | The Lion in Winter | Unseelie

[unnatural_animal]

01. Feast
[Richard the Lionheart, Prince of England, Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitou is still unimpressed. But, rather than simply sit and complain about the quality of the music, this time he has decided to take matters into his own hands.

Through threats, force or a combination of both, he has managed to get his hands on a lute and is industriously tuning it, not caring that he is monopolizing a good section of table and bench without even having the courtesy to eat and drink like everyone else. Eventually he gets something close enough to the music of home out of the thing and begins to pick out the beginning of a tune on it.

It's a bit of an odd combination, the hulking, battle-tested commander plucking adeptly at a delicate instrument, but Richard either doesn't notice or doesn't care. In fact, he looks entirely at his ease. Not enough to sing perhaps, but his mouth forms a few silent verses in Oc nonetheless. He smiles as he does it.]

Perhaps there's hope for the place yet.

[skjalf]

( an odd combination and an unusual sight of the highest order which brings a radiant grin to elizabeth's face. one, it is a joy to see him again. and two, doubly so to hear music that she is far more familiar with than that which the faeries had been plucking out a moment past.

this time, she moves with a sense of ease to the fluid grace with which she usually does, and sits next to him, admiring his handiwork. )

I should say so, your Highness! And you, in turn, are quite skilled. ( though he knows that. just as surely as she knows that she is. )

Shall I sing, to accompany you?

John Granby | Temeraire | Seelie

[knockedaboutthehead]

03. out and about
[are you a person who has a dragon? are you, in fact, a dragon? do you just happen to be in the vicinity of one? congratulations, then as a granby is in the area fully occupied in sketching said dragon. it's quite a good drawing really, accurate and studied, with badly written notes scribbled on the page, and it's obvious that this is far from the first dragon the artist has sketched. he's also apparently unconcerned about any possible danger that the beast might hold, after all, he has been in close contact with them since he was seven.

he frowns, smudging and shading one of the wings a bit before roughly sketching a scale or two in the corner. he has whole pages of these things in his book now. it isn't much, but at least it is a distraction.

anything to keep his mind off of the persistent worry that accompanies the unnerving fact that iskierka still isn't there.]

[greenjacket]

-- Jesus wept.

[ richard sharpe -- major in the south essex regiment, though he insisted upon wearing the cord and colours of the 95th and certainly did not possess a scrap of his rank about him apart from the red officer's sash -- idled into this grand cavern somewhere deep within caer glaem's halls. he hadn't meant to come here. christ, he'd been trying to find the kitchens again. but now he was here.

and there was a buggering dragon snoring in the far end of the hall. and, here, some man a-scribbling. sharpe's hackles risein a slight grimace as he leans in to inspect the image. ] Decent work. How do you know she's not gonna wake up and bloody well eat you?

( ooc: he's not in the game any longer but i couldn't help it )

Wedge Antilles | Star Wars (Legends) | Unseelie

[sfoils]

I. Feast

[ While Wedge respects the Force and all the strange truths that come with it, it doesn't mean he believes in everything fantastical and vaguely religious.

When explained the situation, it sounded too much like his current career to really shock him: you are special, chosen to be part of a war against enemies that will not hesitate to kill you. And Wedge does like feeling special. Feeling expendable never sat well with him. But this sounded too much like a repeat of the Galactic Empire versus the Rebel Alliance. So, why? Why did a bunch of creatures called imps (the coincidence) kidnap him? For a moment he thought he was en route to Kessel. A shame Han wasn't around.

So, do you want me to fly a snubfighter for you? I don't see how else I'll be much help here he thinks as he paces the feast hall wearing the obnoxiously orange jumpsuit of rebel jockeys. Wedge recognizes some of the food as edible, but his appetite's still somewhere in the Corellian Run.

With the proximity of so many bodies enjoying the night's revelry, Wedge might as well take off his helmet. He hooks a finger under the chin strap, and spins it as he walks around without a destination in sight. Act casual, sound casual, even if he feels anything but relaxed at the moment. ] It looks edible. But is it?

II. Station

[ You are even farther away from the family fueling depot that you were before, Wedge Antilles. Somehow, even at this station, which is the only location he's found sharing a semblance of technology he's used, he can't seem to relax. A deck of sabacc cards are endlessly shuffled by his gloved hands as he sips on a mug of watered down caf; it's disgusting really, but even the smallest of comforts can help a pilot anchor themselves to a mission.

Wedge needs all the anchoring he can muster. ] Hey, you! Yeah, you! [ He motions with a hand. ] Up for a game of cards? Don't worry, we won't bet anything. Unless you want to.

III. Locket

In my galaxy, imps are not so small. The attitude is spot on, though.

By the way, does anyone have stronger caf? What they gave me tastes watered down. I like my caf strong enough to burn through the hull of a snubfighter.

ii.

[liven]

[ Perhaps he meant to call out to someone else; Shijima doesn't look as though she's a day over thirteen, for all she's well over two hundred. The only thing that hints at age is her white hair, and that's more incidental than anything else. If that's the case, it hardly matters; Shijima is as nosy as many cats are, and has no trouble inserting herself into anything she finds remotely interesting.

If he meant to call out to her, well - she turns in that case, as well. ]

I suppose. I don't know many games, however.

[ And probably none of the card games from Wedge's world, so... ]

1 - Unseelie

[fulminants]

[ Well, isn't this just an interesting turn of events? The Human Torch, Johnny Storm, ends up in the Unseelie Courts. Despite the situation, he's openly enjoying himself, basking, thriving off the attention he gets even though he knows that he has to get down to business (listen, it's criminal to focus on the boring stuff when babes and booze come in generous supply; he'll just get to the superhero-ing part later, all right?).

He's right in his element, flirtatious and playful, and with more than a few drinks in him Johnny Storm's showing off party tricks, flames dancing to life at his fingertips, cleverly, painlessly licking the edges of beautiful faces -- Johnny's never felt more alive, delighted by the energy of the vast banquet hall and the overflowing abundance of food.

He's not altogether irresponsible, even if he's largely reckless and impulsive (so often to his own detriment). He'd sent out an alert to Sue and Reed earlier on, hoping that they'd receive it and come to him, wherever they are; but right now, the world's his oyster and he fully intends to take advantage of it. He threads through the crowd easily, plucking a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray, deftly hiding a deeper curiosity about this court and its workings underneath a wicked smile and a cavalier exterior.

Coming up beside a stranger, he clinks his glass lightly with theirs, looking ahead. ] How's it gonna fly if I told you to take me to your king? Or queen. Whoever rules this place.

[desperate_times]

[He might want to watch who he clinks glasses with. He could be asking for trouble. Or maybe he likes trouble.

The person who turns to look at him pauses, eying him curiously for a moment, but she's already fallen for this trick once when a musketeer who looked a lot like Lancelot appeared in the Unseelie court.]

I take it you're not Steve Rogers. [Definite Aussie accent there.] If you were, you'd be in a mess of trouble for being here.

[But really, it's so weird to see people with faces like others she knows.]

Ronin | epic | so Seelie it hurts

[sweetestsmile]

((ooc: For the canon-unfamiliar, Ronin is about two inches tall. So very tiny!))

One: Feast:

[When the strange Jinn had begged for his help, Ronin of course had offered it. In hindsight he should have asked where they needed him, because he's a little miffed to suddenly be so far from his forest and his new queen. She's so young, so new, and he knows she's in capable hands (mostly. Nod somehow managed to get himself stuck in a slug just yesterday), but!

So miffed pretty well covers it. On the other hand, he'd tried asking politely, cajoling, commanding, and even threatening, but not a one got them to admit they even could send him back, so that's all there is for it. So he's exploring the feast hall, and seeing to getting himself something to eat. No easy feat when everything is stomper-sized, including the other people. Though most of them actually are stompers, so he supposes that makes sense.

It's mostly easy to dodge them, because of course so few of them bother looking, and he's finally found a plate of fruit and nuts. A sliver of almond serves as a plate he can nibble on later, and Ronin is currently slicing a grape into Leafman-sized portions with his sword. A little unsanitary, that, but what can you do?

And of course a hand comes down towards the food and just misses also grabbing him. He gets out of the way, but, really. So he calls up as loudly as he can manage.]

Hey! You, up there! Maybe you should pay a little attention to your surroundings. What if I hadn't been just now, mm?

[He gestures to his sword, still gleaming with grape juice, before hauling a slice of apple off the plate and carving a portion off it for himself.]

Three: Locket
[Ronin has cleaned himself up as much as possible. The gold on his new coat gleams, and he's wearing his most serious expression.]

I'll make this quick. I need a bird. A horse is all well and good for most of you, but they don't listen well enough, and are terribly hard to redirect when they decide they want something.

[Is that a hint of a crooked smile? It might be!]

And before any of you comedians out there suggest it, you might think it's grand to have a hawk, but I'd rather a bird that won't mistake me for its dinner some night.

Does anyone know where I might find one, already trained to saddle? As appealing as it sounds, I don't really have the time to train one up from the egg.

1!

[daventries]

[ Indeed, her hand nearly connects with him when she goes to grab some of the food, and she suddenly hears a quiet bout of shouting at her from...somewhere? Rosella casts her eyes around, looking this way and that, until her eyes finally land on the small man (fairy?) down at the table.

Rosella snatches her hand back, alarmed. ]

Oh!

[ This isn't the first time she's come across (what she believes to be) a fairy, but never one thrusting a small sword at her. ]

I am so sorry!

[ Wait. Why is she even apologizing? ]

You're simply...so small. I didn't even see you down there.

draco | dragonheart | seelie

[merelychewed]

i. a hilltop pretty much anywhere, anywhere at all

[ Okay, so Seelie are supposed to be honorable, sure, sure, but do they really need to be honorable when sheep are involved? Draco thinks not, because as a hungry dragon, he is very qualified to claim that it's better to lose a few sheep than, say, a few farmers (not that he ever had a taste for, well, people, but still). So, there we have it, a dragon has swooped down to relieve a field of one of its many wooly denizens and has landed on a hilltop to make a messy midday snack of it.

It's unfortunately close to the road, too, but, hey, he's a dragon. He imagines people with swords and shiny armor might bother him, but flying away is a pretty easy option, you know? ]

ii. wildcard

[ he can be just about anywhere, so hit me with your best shot ]

i.

[knockedaboutthehead]

[he knows it isn't iskierka, but nonetheless granby can't help the way his heart leaps when he catches sight of the shape swooping overhead. it doesn't take long afterwards to track the dragon down, but even after reaching the hillside, granby stays a respectable distance back. of course, what was a respectable distance for him might still be seen as near suicidally close by a non-aviator. but to granby it was the closest he could come to both satisfying his curiosity and remaining safe. after all, the place's dragons did tend to vary wildly.]

Lia de Beaumont | Le Chevalier D'Eon | Seelie

[psalmed]

Option 1 - Caer Glaem

This is not Versailles. You are not home.

[It's a whisper before Lia quite realizes she's given it voice. Fingers are wrapped around a crucifix, the beads spilling out of her white-knuckled grip, leaving little indentations in her skin.

Over and over, she goes over that fact in her mind. She's been to great Courts. To Russia, to England, she's made the French Court her home. This is something else entirely, and she has to make a point of standing upright, of not huddling in the court yard as she takes in her surroundings.

Anyone who lingers near her will gain a smile, quick and polite, her hands before her as any lady's should be.]

Is this place very different than where you came from? Or have you always been here?

wildcard - sneaking around the castle

[It is very difficult to sneak in skirts. Lia has had practice, of course, in dresses far heavier and with far more layers. Truly, it isn't a fine court dress unless you can not fit through a doorway. Several pounds of dress is nothing, nor is a corset if one is used to such things.

The castle is a curious place. Lia has left the feast, crept out into a side hallway and then into another. It isn't forbidden but she doubts very much it is encouraged and of course it is not very long before she's turned around, and beginning to think it was not the best of ideas to go creeping around without a guide.

She turns another corner, nearly colliding with someone and issuing a soft noise of surprise, hand groping into her skirt for some form of protection.]

I beg your pardon. I did not see you there.

[In this possibly forbidden part of the castle.]

omg lia!!

[depicted]

[Dorian recognizes a lady of the court as he would recognize his own picture. He greets her with a warm smile and a bow, happy to help any stranger in the moment of transition.]

Oh, it is very different, and familiar only as fairytales are. But it is welcoming, and others have been kind in helping me with the differences.

You are new?

Ratonhnhaké:ton / Connor | Assassin's Creed III | Unseelie

[lifescratched]

1. FEAST

[There's a man dressed in a white hood, an 18th century-style military coat, and deerskin leggings, with a bow strapped to his back and a tomahawk and pistols at his belt. The expression on his face suggests he isn't at all happy to be here. He doesn't sit down, eat, or touch the food, merely watching the merry-making with a look of frustration. People here had been conscripted into an army not belonging to their own country, by monarchs that weren't theirs. Instead of showing any resistance, however, they're enjoying themselves.

He wonders, with silent anger, just how many of the people here know what war is really like. Because it certainly isn't this.]

3. WILDCARD

[Pick your own scenario! Connor can be found slipping out of the feast to explore Caer Scima, committing the layout of the massive stronghold to memory as best he can. Then, he'll be finding the quickest route to leave it.]

hi candace hi - FEAST

[digophelia]

[ If only the feasts could take more of a serious note to them. As far as she knows, Caer Scima is already making preparations and Alice hasn't seen it this lively since Celegorm was alive. How fitting, considering the majority of the Unseelie she knows tend to easily jump into the frontlines. This would be one of the few last nights in Caer Scima, until Alice was going to head back to the Barrel, slowly relocating there.

It's a tense atmosphere, but the Unseelie have their own bravado and welcome newcomers with open arms. Especially one that would be more misbegotten than most. But none of that was Alice's concern, frankly, she was only coming out of her room to have a look around for the newcomers, just out of curiosity.

There's only so much crowds she can handle before shrinking away. The good thing about the feasts is taking non-perishable food and running back to her room, nothing more. Alice is busy and her mind is racing. The plus about being this small is weaving in and out of crowds and gathering fruits and bread into one of her bags (not the one with bones for the Outsider) and slip out. Her small stature makes her seem like a child sometimes, in addition to her attire. It belays the Unseelie title of "battlemaiden", hilariously enough.

Alice has rushed through with her head low, only glancing to the side when she mistakes a call for her name. Who the hell can be calling her at the feast? Unfortunately, Alice doesn't see who she walks into and is easily knocked over as soon as she walks right into him with a small curse. ]

Ah!

[ God, at least she put the food in a bag, she would have been angry with herself if she was carrying a plate. ]

caesar silverberg | suikoden iii | unseelie

[thirdwisestar]

i. caer scima

[ Feasts are dull and so are libraries (or so Caesar would claim if ever accused of liking them), but at least with books he can learn something without having to mingle. He's been wandering through it for some time now and, hmm, might be lost, although he's not likely to admit that.

Worse, he's fairly certain something started following him at some point, but he's yet to catch any sight of it...

He'll keep going, though, stopping whenever a title catches his eye and paging through the book. He's in the middle of actually pausing and reading a page for real when the rustle of someone or something gets him whirling around, book held up like he might use it as a club. ]

Okay, that's it! Come out already! You've been following me for an hour, so just get on with it.

[ Whether it's what actually was lurking after him or not, well... ]

ii. locket; open to unseelie and seelie

So, was anyone ever going to mention dozing off in the library is a bad idea? Because I swear that stupid place just tried to eat me...

[ Large amounts of magical tomes, imps, and god knows what else all in one place? Of course that was a terrible place to take a nap in, but some habits die hard. ]

II

[enjoymyatelier]

...you're not Seelie, are you? Because I've really been wondering if anyone's had that particular misfortune yet, but the Seelie library seems rather sedate...

[...is... that the reaction you should be having, Kayneth]

Connor (Ratonhnhaké:ton) | Assassin's Creed | unseelie

[akweks]

01. ARRIVING.

[Connor is uncomfortable. To all appearances, he spends the feast hugging the walls and being shy, politely waving off offers of drink. In actuality, he's observing, distrusting of this place and everything within it. Freedom and change are ideals that align with his own, but very easily can such things lead to chaos: as such, he's waiting for chaos to erupt. A court filled with people whose joint purpose appears to be a lack of purpose, it's only a matter of time.

Later, after brushing off attempts to get him to join the party for the fiftieth time, Connor leaves. He makes a cursory round of the inside of the castle before heading outside and circling it. Once he's satisfied that he's seen all there is to see, he effortlessly climbs up a tree in the courtyard and then launches himself to the side of the castle, beginning to climb the wall. Heights have always served him well.]

03. WILDCARD: LA LLORONA.

[Castles may be fine for some people, but Connor has always felt more at ease in the woods.

At first opportunity, he heads out with a horse from the stables, absently pleased to find that even here, in this world full of magic and spirits, there are things like horses that are completely normal. He thinks, anyway.

The woods themselves are shadowy and a little unnerving, and he's on edge as he cautiously guides his horse through knotted roots and twisted branches. There is noise in the distance, twigs and leaves crunching underfoot, and he stands up in the saddle, pulling his bow from his back and silently nocking an arrow. He was warned that there were things in the woods he didn't want to encounter alone. At the time, he wondered that if this were true, why would they build a castle in the middle of it all?

He aims toward the sound and waits.]

01! Oops oops that's what I meant

[stickanarrowinureye]

[Sera was outside herself, minding her own business. Not at all putting up another prank of any kind around these tight arses. And then tree climbing person comes. Yeah. Okay. WHAT.]

Hey! Weird! You know there's stairs, right?

Frank Underwood » House of Cards » Unseelie

[the_whip]

a.

It felt like a dream. A nightmare; patently unusual. He despised sleep as a matter of course, but it seemed always to despise him too, never coming when wanted, always black and empty.

Not this.

His hand had snatched around the foul neck of one of the gibbering, strange-skinned imps while fending them off while they tugged at his suit. The twist came neat and clean behind the heat of his disoriented frustration, but the crack of bone was too real, the sound too familiar, too right. The others scattered at the sound, leaving him to straighten in the middle of the gala, eyes lifting to the crowd around him.

Some hideous themed party, disgustingly disorganised, none of the costumes made any sense... But his lucidity was growing, and for every flaw his cunning latched upon like a cat, plucking out logical fallacies in what might in fact be reality all in the mute moment he had straightened... a sense of dread began to well in him, faster and faster, like blood filling a cut.

"Take this, would you," he informed a passing server, setting the limp body of the imp on the near-empty surface of a silver tray. The other hand snatched a goblet from it, while the one recently divested of the imp waved the server impatiently away.

His face creased as he inspected both the goblet and its contents. And then the crowd again, hunting them for familiar faces. Or at the very least, someone else wearing something fucking sensible.

[with_a_smile]

A fairyworld. That's what this patently was, down to the sparkling, flitting imps, the glittering guests, the feast on the table. It looked like something out of a child's book, the world delicate and perfect, crafted from fancies and utterly delightful.

Claire can't help but trace back to the roots of the fairytales you told children, back to original stories where virgin princesses were taken away, trapped and lost in a foreign world forever.

Her smile widens, just barely, long fingers clasped around the goblet of wine in her hand, more prop than anything as she scans the crowd. Her expression is cool and pleasant, not repelling, but not inviting, her armor solidly in place.

It almost cracks when she sees a familiar figure, neat suit and bland tie and for a moment, she doesn't believe. But there is no such thing as luck, only opportunities that are taken or lost, and Claire was never one to let such a thing slip away.

The click of her heels is calm, her pace measured and calm as she slips through the crowd, murmuring soft apologies as she slides through, but never deterred from her target.

She slips in close to him and she can see the tension in the tight set of of shoulders so she lets one hand lightly rest at one for just a spare moment before sliding her hand through his elbow, the left one, as always, sliding into her customary place.

"Francis." Her voice is as cool as ever, but her hand tightens ever-so-slightly on his elbow, and the faintest hint of relief flashes in her blue eyes.

Hector Barbossa [Pirates of the Caribbean] Unseelie

[belaying]

001 - The Feast
[Somehow. Someway. Some unholy, without-a-doubt, with-absolute-certainty-and-conviction way, this is Jack Sparrow's fault. And it's not like he's making that accusation up out of thin air. No. Because when things get weird and things go pear-shaped, if a body digs deep enough, they'll find Sparrow right at the center of it, having unintentionally slighted some sea god or another, or meddling with some curse. Or trying to find immortality.

So, in short, this is all Jack's fault.

He doesn't care about the eternal war that reminds him of the cautionary tales his mother - a devout Irish Catholic woman with a pagan streak a mile wide (though she never realized it) - told him as a child to keep him and his siblings from straying too far into the waves. And he certainly doesn't care about one side or the other or who might eventually win because he holds no horse in this race and literally sees nothing in it for him.

No, his main concern is that the Black Pearl is missing, after all of his finagling to make sure it was he that left with her after battling the EITC, not Jack, and that in and of itself is what hs his breeches in a twist. Not to mention the absence of Jack the monkey, his beloved pet. And he's fairly certain that, somehow, that's Jack's fault, too.

So forgoing food completely, there he sits with drink in hand, keeping a sharp eye on the crowd for said low-down, dirty, belly-crawling, filthy, double-crossing, scallywag of a pirate, because as soon as he sees him, he's going to strangle him with his bare hands. So far, he hasn't seen him swagger through like he doesn't have a care in the world, but his Jack Sparrow senses are tingling, and despite his outwardly casual slouch, it's obvious to anyone who looks for more than half a second that he's wound tight about something.]

002 - Wildcard!
[Wherever, whenever, all over. Pick your own pirate scenario.]

[pistolproof]

[ Jack knows that look. He knows that look all too well. He'd been on the receiving end of it too many times to even count between the long years of being Captain and First Mate, and during their travels that ended with defeating Davy Jones and Cutler Beckett side by side. It's a look that promises certain death to him and him alone, unless he immediately gets out of sight and stays there until the urge of murder has receded to manageable levels.

Which, considering this is Hector, is extremely unlikely to happen any time soon.

And so, upon catching sight of Hector, Jack subtly and causally (subtly and casually) turns around and, with all the grace and poise that he can possibly possess on solid land, turns around and begins to walk the other way, hoping beyond hope that Hector has not caught sight of him yet.

Even if he has, Jack is confident in his abilities to outrun the older man. ]

Lir | The Last Unicorn

[valiantabsurdity]

i. WHAT ARE THESE ANONYMOUS 'WOODS' YOU SPEAK OF

[ The hour is late like this, drawn and dark - and silent in forests, because this is their way, and you don't trouble the tradition of dragon lairs and harpy shelters and spider mansions and the overall home of Things That May Well Chew You Down with But a Minor Indigestion.

Forests are particular like this. You learn to accept the method behind their interior decoration madness about the time when you accept that:

1. this one scrawny fellow has been trailing after you for the better part of twenty minutes
2. he is, in fact, waving the fine flag of a particularly unimpressive (if clean!) handkerchief
3. and by the time he gets around to calling out, he seems to be Distraught about this state of forest-y affairs. ]

Forgive me. I thought - [ Breathe, Lir, breathe. ] I was glad to have... it's yours, isn't it? I rescued it from... is it, then? Is it yours?

[ Good. Job. Lir. ]


ii. THE ONE LOCKET TO RULE THEM ALL; TEXT

I think I might be lost - or not yet found. I think it's meant to matter. Does it?

[bindsthedead]

[It's dim enough that Sabriel has to conjure a small light to look at the handkerchief, taking her hands off her sword-hilt.]

I- yes, this is mine. Is this why you were following me?

[And Sabriel folds it up and tucks it into a pouch at her belt, and turns her attention to her surroundings- while still watching the man out fo the corner of her eye. He doesn't look that impressive, but still.]

My name is Sabriel. I don't believe we've met?

kamala khan/ms. marvel | marvel-616 | seelie

[kamalleable]

[ arrival feast ]

[ She's only half paying attention to the guide offering descriptions of the food and upcoming festivities in the Seelie court, too entranced by the way the tables avoided bending under the amount food loaded onto them. It reminded her of the nights when she'd break her fasts with her family, table loaded with almost double the amount of food with the sole intention of spending the night with your family.

Sure. Okay, she can handle this. It's not much different than accepting she belongs in a world where guys like Tony Stark and Wolverine are actually around her, that she's one of them. Well. Almost. She can handle being around faeries and living in the woods and castles and pretending she can belong so long as no one asks her about the fact that she's deliberately avoiding all the meat items on the plates, preferring instead to pick at the obvious salads and vegetarian type things.

Things no one ever told you when you become a superhero: you still have to ask if the food is acceptable to eat. Kamala lingers over a roast pig, her face contorted into a mix of disgust and awe, taking her time to inhale the smell. ] It doesn't smell as good as I thought...

[ later | misc. ]

[ Faeries. She got dragged into the forest, castle, thing by faeries. The shock didn't linger for too long once she realized it was much easier to interact with them once she wasn't ten times their sizes, forcing herself with some additional concentration to shrink down.

To anyone who catches sight of a faerie gathering slightly on the outskirts of the party, you'd notice someone who clearly doesn't belong: Kamala. Dressed in her costume, mask obscuring her face, Kamala is completely different from the rest in her blatant blue & red, the lightning bolt easily visible as she sits on the edge, legs swinging back and forth.

Occasionally as someone walks past them, she'll throw up a hand, concentrating her attention on it to force it much bigger and much more noticeable. Sorry if she accidentally hits you. ]

Re: kamala khan/ms. marvel | marvel-616 | seelie

[bindsthedead]

It might be more for spectacle. [Sabriel smiles politely, though inwardly, she's concerned. This girl is too young to be dragged into a war.]

Although everything here smells good. Have you tried any of the fish? And the desserts look amazing too.

Jack Sparrow | Those movies about pirates | Unseelie

[pistolproof]

01. - Welcome Feast

[ This isn't London. He's been to London before and he knows for a fact that this isn't it.

He'd been making his way there because he'd caught wind that one Joshamee Gibbs was going to hang for the mistaken identity of being Jack Sparrow. Who Joshamee Gibbs was definitely not, seeing as he is Jack Sparrow the one and only. And Gibbs has been a good First Mate to him, he hasn't mutinied him or thrown him overboard unlike some First Mates Hector Barbossa, and he doesn't really want to go through the trouble of finding a new First Mate once Gibbs was gone.

But this is undoubtedly Not London. There is no Gibbs to save here but there is a feast, with sweets and rum. There was also something about an eternal war, but he hadn't been really been paying attention to all that. He's a pirate, not a solider.

And so, bottle of rum in hand, he makes his way down to the deserts. Because chocolate is very hard to come by where he comes from, and he doesn't plan on letting any of it go to waste. You might want to stop him before he eats it all. ]

02. - Wildcard
[ Insert your own piratey adventure here ]

02

[desperate_times]

[Looking for something, Jack? How about your precious ship. Because it's here.

Oh yes! It is here. In fact, he might have seen it come into Unseelie territory.. by means of flight. Yes, it FLIES, Jack. It flew right over the trees and through the clouds like a god damn GODDESS.

When it landed, there was a (literal) skeleton crew aboard, and low and behold, a very attractive woman was commanding the vessel.

Chloe disembarks the ship with every intention of attending the feast.]

Helen | Claymore | Unseelie

[makestrouble]

[Feast]

[Don't mind the armored woman sitting at the table, chugging a large glass of beer while insisting that others join her on her alcoholic quest. Helen's just trying to get her head around all of this, and drinking totally helps her think. Totally. Some might notice the large sword that she's gone ahead and stabbed into the floor. Any attempt to mention that little detail goes completely over the warrior's head, and she simply insists that it's 'resting'.

If one happens to sit near her, she'll push some beer towards them, grinning widely.]

Oi, oi! Try some of this! It's really good!

[digophelia]

[ Her luck is always the same when she goes to the feast to snatch up food and run back to her room. There's always that one person who seems to magnate on Alice, trying to get her to try something.

Please don't be drunk. Although Alice does a double take when she looks at her. Her eyes. Are they silver? Alice stares for a few minutes before she finally replies. ]

I'm sorry? Oh, no, I'm fine. Really.

Hiro Hamada | Big Hero 6 | Unseelie, probably?

[zerotohiro]

Network

[When the locket's video feed turns on, the view is actually of somebody's hands poking at the screen with what appears to be a tiny screwdriver. Whoever's handling the device is obviously trying to take it apart, murmuring to himself before he realizes the locket can't be tampered with. Upon said-realization, he picks up the device and holds it up to his face.]

…hi. My name is Hiro Hamada. [And addressing large groups of people is still not exactly his favorite thing in the world, so there's a bit of a pause as he thinks of what he actually wants to ask.] Does anyone know how to disassemble the lockets? I've been trying because I have a few ideas to make them better, but it won't bust open.

[He puts the locket down again, hovering over it and picking up the screwdriver again.]

I guess that's it. Thanks.

Station

[Okay. Fairy war. Imp war. Weird…magical creature war. Whatever. He can deal with this. He can totally deal with this, this isn't scary or weird or completely outdated.

Except…for the part where he's completely alone and without any of his usual gadgets or gear, but he can improvise. It doesn't take him long to figure out that as long as he stays in the Station, everything here works, including his tablet and his phone. As he's walking through the Station though he hears the telltale beep of his phone alerting him that it's running on a low battery.

'Okay. Gotta find a place to plug in.'

He takes off running, sneakers hitting the floor lightly as he weaves his way through people and ducks into storefronts to see where he can settle in to power up.

Shortly after he finds himself at a table with a drink in front of him and phone charging by his side, but he's not paying attention to either of those. Instead he's busy staring at one of the machines in the cafe that's used to brew coffee. Not entirely surprising, it's also outdated compared to what he's used to.

…huh. He and Tadashi never really had the chance to create the Hamada Caffeination Delivery Service machine, did they?

If he can't be with his friends, and if…well, busy hands, busy minds. Or something like that. Instead of interacting with the world around him, he's pushed the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows and he's already sketching something out on his tablet, tongue poking out between his teeth just slightly. It's a sign that he's onto a great idea and that he doesn't want to be disturbed at all. However, in his haste to jot down his great ideas, Hiro's failed to notice that the cord of his phone charger is stretched out just enough from wall to table that anybody passing by has a good chance of tripping over it.

Sorry about that, but science waits for no one.]

[liven]

Are you a mage, then?

[ The lazy drawl comes from a girl who can't be older than thirteen, dangling her locket above her head as she sprawls on the ground, on a carpet before a fireplace.

She has no idea how the lockets work, except that it's magic. Somehow. ]

Better how?

elrond | tolkien legendarium | seelie

[elvenwise]

Feast

[ It is no small thing to be invited to another realm; it is, in fact, something of an honor to know that one's skills are valued far from home. It is another thing entirely to be lied to. Elrond's arrival has not been exactly smooth. He is incensed to find out that the fairies who begged him for healing skills left out some very important information.

Namely, that they are in the middle of a centuries-long war.

He's done that, he's put in his time as a warrior, and wants no part of bloody conflict. But the healer inside of him is less certain. How can he abandon the civilians here to the mercy of their respective rulers? He cannot.

So the Lord of Rivendell wanders the great Hall, chatting with strangers, and finding out all he can possibly glean about the place called Drabwurld. Someone should probably make him sit down and eat. ]

Wildcard

[ choose your own adventure. ]

feast

[silvergift]

[His wife would be more than happy to make him sit and eat. If she weren't focused on weaving her way through the crowds in an effort to get to the halls that would lead to hers and Arwen's rooms. She'd spent several weeks on the road, training a group of healers at the queens request and returning to the castle to make sure to report on it. She wants to rest in a proper bed after cleaning up and relaxing at the feast.

So as Celebrían comes near him, she may not look quite as he might expect. Her clothes are a bit dirty from travel, there's a warm cloak over her shoulders though and a leather pack she's carrying that holds the familiar smell of herbs. She's had nowhere to properly clean up and her hair is tied up in a messy braid, silver hair that's hard to hide though and if he hasn't already noticed her, she's most definitely noticed him.

The sight of him makes her heart clench and tears well up, makes her throat burn and her hand moves to the pendant Fili and Kili made her. The pendant that has his shard from when he disappeared so many months before.]

Elrond. [Her voice cracks. Her mother had told her, convinced her, that Elrond was alright. That his disappearing from Drabwurld didn't mean he'd died as the boy she'd spoken with had implied. It's so different though, actually seeing him alive and well.]

queen margaret | la reine margot | court undecided

[goldenboxes]

i. feast

[ It might easier to give into the beauty of the feast, if she were not used to it. Perhaps maybe, if she were dressed better, more fitting. This dress had been truly beautiful, once, maybe it is more fitting now than anyone else. This is a feast fit for a King, and her white is now stained with a King's blood, and she is Queen now where he has blessed her such. Drenched with all that royalty. It prompts a sick little laugh, looking at it. Her stomach turns on the sight of the rich food.

Born to it, and sick of it.

Besides all that, her hands are full. The bundle of white sheets clutched to her. They, in contrast her to, are clean. But the smell of it is off. There is something rotten in her hands, but it does not seem to both her. By contrast, she sits in the first chair available and sets it on her lap. She does not unwrap it, but she holds it, careful in her hands, and smooths across it like it is something she so truly adores.

He would be happy, with that he thinks, now the dreadful things they whisper of her is true. She keeps her lovers locked up tightly with her. No matter how it is insisted, she would not let anyone pry what remained of him from her fingers. ]

ii. locket - audio.

[ Not knowing what to make of the strange jewelry, it's too plain in most regards for anything she wears. She opens it slowly, inspecting it's content. ]

What good is a locket with no face painted to keep safe in it? Shall I tell you my secrets instead?

[ but, nothing still. ]

ooc: the thing she is holding is a severed head as fair warning.

ii.

[liven]

Only if you wish to tell your secrets to a great many people.

[ Which isn't to say Margaret can't do so, but that warning takes little effort and so even Shijima, lazy cat that she is, can be bothered to make it. ]

02 - Rachel Beck - Rachel Rising - Seelie

[rerising]

[ There is Rachel on the grounds. Pretty, blonde, colder than your average human, red eyed and with bruises around her neck indicating strangling. She's the liveliest dead girl around, most likely.

She's going to stay next to the technology she can understand for the time being, thank you very much. How has she ended up there anyway? Maybe putting a rope around her neck for a second time hadn't been a good idea after all. ]

I need some hard liquor in me asap.

[ She's not even sure she can get drunk, there hasn't been time to try. ]

Locket

[rememberyoursin]

Oh ho, is a fellow witch missing her familiars then? How awful. It is always so hard to replace good furniture...

Rani VIII | Fate/EXTRA | Undecided

[munajjima]

FEAST

[ To be without technology is a bizarre thing for one who's been immersed within it until very recently. Rani was born of magical means, magical crafting, alchemical teaching raised her, but technology was, until now, her world. To be without it is strange, yet for the lack of technological sense and power, her magic is still strong. The innate Od pulsing through her inhuman body. ]

Surely, it is a dream...or have I been truly spirited away? [ Quieter, to herself. ] I wonder if these spirits here are like those recorded within the Moon Cell's archives.

[ When everything else seems like it's out of a story, why wouldn't it be that way? It's something to ponder more as she studies the food in front of her. So much human food in one place! And all of it looking more delicious than the last. Maybe she should try to sample it,]



LOCKET

[ As it always is, Rani's voice is even and composed. Her question brings some curiousity-based life to it, of course, but only so little. ]

That station is truly the only place where technology dwells, isn't it?

rocketto

[babbylon]

The flighty pursuits of mongrels and their machines are no concern of mine.

[Were you expecting better from Gilgamesh, or...]