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

[stickanarrowinureye]

That's the fun, innit? Seeing if you can make the shot.

And I did and you're fine. What's the problem? Get over it.

1! early canon point is fine :D

[deadrising]

[ It feels like a long time ago that Thrall donned the armor of a warrior, though Sylvanas could not forget it if she tried. The colors were too garish -- even for those who could barely distinguish between shades, like the dead.

But perhaps it wasn't that long ago -- and perhaps he has need of the heavier armor here, far from home with no elemental assistance. She follows him as he leaves the feast, curious as to where someone would need to go with no real instinct of where anything was located. It isn't until he whistles and waits that it occurs to her that she should announce herself, lest she find herself in a position where she might seem more foe than...well. Friend was a strong word. ]

Thrall. It appears you've found yourself here as well.

she's wonderful so far!!

[baseborne]

A sword without a hilt, he remembers. Rather, he recalls the words, but perhaps not how wise they are anymore. Despite Val's warnings, despite her sister's, he has learned not to mind the cuts on his hands. What was such a small amount of hurt when his sisters and his brothers lived and breathed again, when he could protect them as he'd failed to do in Westeros?

Would Val trade certainty and the comfort of a hilt to see her sister's smile again?

He has more sense than to pose the question. A wildling woman, when offended, can do much more than slap. "Not the stones, perhaps. Not like the Wall is. But those that live in it.... aye, all. You too, now. There's a thing inside you, they call it a shard, and it has a power that you might use if you wish to. It's why you're here in the first place."

His skin tingles where her finger touches. He'd gotten so used to the scar tissue there that even a month later any brush against the new, smooth skin felt alien again. "It did. Those... and all the others." The arrow wound through his thigh. The knife wound in his belly and the two in his back. There were times he could almost forget that it hadn't all been a bad dream, now.

one. ( also know as I DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT )

[seidhe]

[ He appears shortly after the camp is established, emerging from the surroundings with a purposeful heavy foot ─ a early warning she'd likely recognize by now. As somewhere along the way he began bringing her food during her movements, if she was nearby of course.

Nothing is said, no other sound save for the noise from the Station and Iorveth's heavy footsteps, and he simply... deposits two rabbits down for her. The kills had been clean and swift, leaving the pets undamaged. If he hunted for himself, it is hard to tell, there is no smoke smell on his clothes, only to fresh scent of pine and dirt.

With that done he sets himself a short distance, pulling his bow from his back, resting it beside him. ]

[darkborn]

[ She hisses, glaring as she wraps her robes tighter around herself. ]

Next time aim at someone else, you twit.

[depicted]

I don't have full knowledge; as I understand, it functions on electricity, and pieces of information are coded onto the machine and then translated into what you see. But it is far beyond my time, and I've yet to learn more of it.

my favourite kind of prompt

[darkborn]

[ She flinches a little as she hears the sound of his footsteps and, were she unused to it, she would have turned to aim something rather vile at his face. Luckily (for him or for her, she cannot tell) she is used to how he walks, at least when he approaches her, a lesson hard learned for the two of them together. Lauralae doesn't know enough of him to say much or do much other than let her gaze flick to his; their conversations have always been short and the trust between them hard won.

The rabbits, however, are welcome, for all that she once loathed the idea of eating meat, and she reaches for them and draws the small knife she wears at her side. She can use the pelts, he knows this, and she finds his consideration as charming as she can find anything; all she does is begin to skin them, her fingers moving nimbly. She has been alone for so long that tending to her own meal is second nature now, she barely needs to think.

Eventually, however, her eyes turn to him, gaze careful and measured. ]

You were successful, then.

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.

B)

[seidhe]

[ Truly he had not expected to gain her trust, nor for her to gain his. Their initial meeting was full of venom spat at one another, to wound, to frighten. Both so full of pride and anger and a great amount of hatred for others, he for humans, and her for her own kind. Ironic, then, that somewhere along the thing they went from spitting cats to this.

He has pulled out his pipe as she begins to skin the rabbits and lit it, inhaling a herb he refuses to name. His lungs seize against it, threaten to cough, but he ignores it. Something he has gotten good at over the years. ]

You had doubts?

[ Iorveth's singular gaze flicks to her, eyebrow raising from behind his head scarf. ]

1

[rangerandking]

Overwhelming, hm? {Aragorn gives Bard a warm smile, hoping to set the newcomer's nerves at ease.} The feast is for you, so why not sit and enjoy yourself?

{As for him, he takes a seat and lights his pipe, inhaling slowly.}

I am Aragorn and, if it is within my abilities, I shall answer your inquiries.

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.]

[metalica]

And I enjoy my power. That is why it is best not to infuriate her.

[ But Erik is a sour puss indeed and he is still searching for ways to break free from Morla's control. Now that Charles is here he might have freer reign over his mind, but if it was a choice between risking his only friend and being bound, somehow, to and from Morla, he knows which he would choose. There is little that is worth Charles, he thinks.

He hides his arms again, careful, before he lets his eyes flicker back to Dorian. ]

If you can call it magic. [ Some would, he supposes, and while it sounds too simple an explanation to Erik it's better than going into the dos and don'ts of mutation theory. ]

More than you would think. Some take advantage of it, of course, but others... Others do not. It is simply a matter of how far they wish to take the game.

[darkborn]

[ Her eyes flick to his and her lip twitches, ever so slightly. ]

No.

[ For she knows that he is skilled, just as she is, and they share talent as much as they do nature. If there is anyone she would put her trust in to do any kind of scheme it would be him - and that is not something she would say lightly. Indeed, her trust is hard won and difficult to maintain, her skin crawling at the very idea of someone having enough of her to know what to say and do.

One rabbit is done and she moves, drawing a cloth and dropping the meat upon it before she turns to the next. She'll have to cook it, or perhaps salt it, to keep some for later; there will be more journeys ahead and strips of carefully preserved food will do her some good. ]

I was curious.

they've gotta meet <3 {Daonna}

[rangerandking]

"Is that any way to speak to a lady?" the admonishment was soft, yet there was steel behind it. Aragorn did not take kindly to the fairer sex being treated brusquely even if the bar's proprietor was busy.

"Gi nathlam hí. He does not speak for the Drabworld's entirety." he pushed back his hood as he came to stand beside her, "Your face is not one I know, though I have often found myself surrounded by your kindred."

It was possible that she wasn't from Middle Earth, but he doubted it. Her bearing down to the clothes she wore and how she braided her hair spoke of her homeland.

001

[rangerandking]

{He spots the Dwarf easily enough - it helps when you tower over most people - and he wends his way to Thorin's side, holding an extra goblet in his hands. The possibility that he will not be remembered does not give him pause. Introductions can be repeated.}

It is good to see you. {And he means it with all his heart. He can only imagine the happiness that the other Dwarves will feel upon seeing their leader and friend returned again.} I am one of many who rejoice to see you in the Drabworld once more. If you do not recall your last visit, I am Aragorn.

{He offers the Dwarf the extra goblet.}

1/3 omgomgomg

[individualist]

[There's very little that can genuinely piss off Lucifer, but when pretending to be someone who isn't the devil, it's obvious anyone would be mad at having wine spilled all over them. She immediately looks down to her outfit after it all goes down, frustrated.]

Ah! My--!

feast!

[aureinsof]

[Aster wasn't really looking for anyone but Marta here, though if he happens to see someone interesting, he'll stop. And boy has he found an interesting creature acting, well, more like a hungry happy dog.

He pauses, confused.] ...Nice tattoos.

2/3

[individualist]

[But it's fixed before she even looks down.

AND THE WAY IT WAS CLEANED...THAT'S A VERY FAMILIAR FEELING.]

[individualist]

[CHRIST ALMIGHTY.

LITERALLY.

This is probably the first time in a long time she's been genuinely surprised.]

You're--!?

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.

[dirth]

Certainly.

[ It's his favourite thing. ]

The Fade is a place of spirits, where souls go once death has taken you. It is the place from which mages draw their magic and the home of uncountable wonders.

sera, no.

[dirth]

You have a great deal of trust in people that would kidnap us to do their bidding.

[seidhe]

[ He scoffs, the noise more an exhaling of breath, followed by a trail of smoke.

It may have been that that drew him, the difficulty of gaining her trust, a mannerism he too shares. He yells his hatred for humanity, curse them, insults them, though they are not the only people who have burnt him. It had been one of his own who traded away elven lives, one of his own who paid for the elven state in blood. It has made him a difficult man, hard to get along with and even harder to gain his trust.

But since then a hand full of people have managed it, all in different ways. From the white haired Witcher, to her. ]

About what?

[darkborn]

[ She sniffs; this is how all their conversations go. It's like pulling teeth from one another at times, neither of them keen to spend any amount of their day speaking on matters that they hate. Most of their time together is spent in silence, she will happily admit that, even when they sleep (she is still getting used to waking up in her other form, her face buried in his neck and his hand touching her, careful).

Together, they are a dangerous mystery.

She takes a moment to peer down at her rabbits before she continues to speak, nonchalant and entirely unconcerned with his lack of response. ]

How well you did, evidently, or I wouldn't have asked.

locket

[illuminatingbrendan]

Cats. What's yours? And what have you got on your head?