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

01 - Seelie Court - EIKO CAROL

[moogling]

[What's this? A great and beautiful heroine is needed to save this world? Well, it's not what Eiko planned to do today, but BOOM! put it on the list! Now that she's here, she figures she doesn't have a choice, and really, saving worlds is sort of a past time now, so why not?

But first, she must find out more about this place and--OH MY GOD IS THAT A CAKE??

Investigations can wait. In the Seelie banquet hall, there is quite a spread, and she is rather peckish, so first she will fill up her belly like a good soldier before going to war.

It might be hard to see her. After all, she's only 6 years old and the top of her head pretty much is at the height of the table, but she will not be underestimated because of her looks or her age. If she wants cake, she will have it. That's how you defeat life!!

So the bitty summoner goes to the table and puts her hands on a bench, then wiggles herself on top of it. YES! First hurdle over-come. They will write songs of this one day.

Next, she gets up from her knees and stands on the bench, then leans across the table to reach the--CURESES! The cake is just out of reach! Why taunt her so, cake? WHHHYYYY! Perhaps if she uses a tool, she can reach it.

Eiko picks up a butter knife and reeeaaches... oh.. she stabbed the cake. Stab! And again. And again... COME HERE YOU TEASE!]

[ooc: Just one of a few muses I'm considering--might tag with others as well]

Fëanor | Silmarillion / Unseelie

[lightcatcher]

1. [network/video]

[A rather irritated elf comes into few when the feed starts - his hair groomed neatly yet his clothes appearing worn, grey eyes narrowed in ire, though not ire at those on the other side of the lockets.]

I cannot reach the younger of my sons, Tyelkormo, though Celegorm is the name you might rather know him by. Tell me of his fate.


2. [action]

[Fëanor's first stop after returning is the station, to pick up food and new clothing - and thus for the first time ever, one may find him in jeans and a hoodie, leading his cleg through the station's corridors. His mood has softened, though not by much, and he only pauses briefly when he sees ones whom he has spoken to before or to pick up goods.]

Dolores Umbridge | Seelie Court

[umbridge]

It had only seemed prudent to go along with the dear, little faeries to find out who their owner was and then suitably, yet fairly, chastise them for using magic so tastelessly. She'd been sure that such a display could only have been made by a petty witch that had stolen their magic from a far more upstanding, more traditionally British family. Alas, she could not have that gentle word and instead found herself in a castle, not entirely unlike Hogwarts, but even more polluted.

What else was there to do but put on her sweetest smile, take a plate of food (likely touched by mongrels in the absence of a properly cowed house elf) and mingle.

Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard // DA2

[remainvigilant]

01
Her upper lip lifted off her teeth in a sneer; the reek, the roll and swell of magic oppressive on all sides. Some Fade-trick, she told herself, bristling in her many-spiked armour as she assessed the grand feast from the vantage before its heavy hall doors. This is some maleficar's Fade-spun trick.

Pale eyes cold and brittle as deep winter ice in her lined face, she shook her head in disgust, shouldering away from the sight past whoever stood close enough to obstruct her.

02
Wildcard!

02 - Bethany Hawke - Dragon Age 2

[bethany_hawke]

The station may be a little slice of home to some, but to Bethany, it's like nothing she's ever seen. Not in all her travels has she seen technology like this. And according to some she's spoken to, it's not even driven by magic, but science! It's definitely a bit over-whelming. First she's thrown into a world that isn't her own, and then the world has, what almost seems to be, other worlds in it.

There are some familiarities about, like the smell of coffee or some of the foods being sold. A man turning over some skewers of chicken looks particularly good. When her stomach rumbles, she places a hand over it. Quiet down. She hasn't any money for this, and nothing to trade with.

[ooc: Circle Mage-Bethany]

Inquisitor Lavellan | Dragon Age: Inquisition | court undecided

[arla]

1.
[ This is not the first time she has felt like an unwanted guest in a hall full of strangers. In fact, it is not so different from Skyhold, the court warm and lit with torches and candles, people milling about and talking both jovially and in hushed tones. It's more remarkable that there are a few, mostly her escorts, offering her food and drink and a place to sit and gather her bearings. The journey itself has been an odd one, winding from Thedas to something new altogether - this Drabwurld - and she is curious (and wary) of what it may hold.

She should be more concerned that she has wandered away from her duty. But some part of her revels in the unknown, in the knowledge she can find here, and for the change of pace. No one is calling her 'Herald'. No one is calling her 'Inquisitor'. Here, she is just another stranger, just another face in the crowd.

So there is food to be had and places to explore, and some people might find the elf wandering to be a curious sight, but she is not so shy as to keep herself from asking a few people: ]

Do you know where the rulers of this court are? I would speak with them. [ But she recognizes the look in their eye and frowns. ] That's...not going to be possible, is it?


3.
[ Seelie - The Great Greenwood
It has taken her many days to make her way to the Greenwood, gifted with a beautiful mount to guide her there. Even upon entering the wood, she can feel a stark difference; the trees seem to whisper and there is a sense of home that she has not felt since she had been back with her clan many months ago. It makes her want to stay and cast the duty of her court behind-- But she clings to that part of herself, the want to help others, and she knows she will return eventually. Still, there are things to see, knowledge to gather... Perhaps she will learn things here that will help when she eventually returns to Thedas.

As she begins to make camp, something rustles nearby, though it's there for a moment and gone the next. Nasrin stops and grips her staff, eventually turning, the mark on her hand sparking angrily with green.

She hurls a fireball at the sound. ]


[ Unseelie
She has been asking everyone for some support in going out into the field, as she has glimpsed word of Loch Noa and its surrounding forest and hopes that perhaps that might give her something to go on, perhaps a place to find artifacts to help the Unseelie...or perhaps to help herself in the growing conflict in Thedas. Lavellan has asked around enough, prodded people, attempted to cajole. But she goes to the stables anyway to find a mount, clear in her intent to ride and find for herself what lies beyond the circle of the castle.

Want to join? ]


[ ooc: keeping spoilers out unless someone indicates it's okay. undecided with the court so I put up a few prompts just in case!! ]

jack benjamin | kings | unseelie

[benumbing]

[His father used to read by his sister's hospital bed, stories about princesses in ivory towers rescued by knights in shining armor. He never talked about the rescue of princes, that it might be at the hands of some farm boy, or something as equally undignified as being kidnapped and hauled about in a sack.

Jack refuses to think of it as a rescue. Rescue means debt, and debt only means betrayal once it's been paid. He casually wonders if it wouldn't have been better to just die, but now that he looks back, something seems determined to keep him alive.

It's not God. Maybe it's this.

Feasts and mingling, Jack knows how this works. He comes down the steps, pulling one hand from his pocket to claim a goblet and sample the blood red wine inside of it. Jack stops shoulder to shoulder with someone, eyes scanning the revelry in the room.]

At least the alcohol is palatable. I was worried that we might be forced to snort pixie dust.

clarke griffin ( the 100 ) | seelie

[omnes]

( i. | ARRIVAL AT SEELIE )

[ at first, it doesn't seem all that different from the ground — there's plenty greenery and everything looks somewhat old. if that is where the similarities end, well, clarke is familiar with exactly two different types of environment, the technology of the ark, and the complete lack of technology on the ground.

this is a lot more like the ground than it is like the ark.

there's people dancing, though, music and food and wine being offered to her, there's a castle looming above that doesn't look like it has withstood a nuclear war and then sixty years of radiation afterwards. it's a little like clarke imagines grounder feasts might be like, and that thought makes her wonder if they'll ever have the opportunity to know for sure, if the truce with the grounders means that this kind of thing might be in their future.

she hopes that it is. (the truce came at too high a cost — but she's not thinking about that, she's not thinking about finn, she's not, she's not.)

at first, clarke skirts along the edges of the feast, observing rather than partaking. she doesn't eat or drink anything, too suspicious of anything good and free after mount weather.

eventually, though, she'll stop to ask someone — ] What are you celebrating?

( ii. | THE STATION / NETWORK )

[ clarke gets her bearings eventually, figures out that there's a place called the station and a means to communicate openly with others and, well.

if there's any chance at all she can reach the others, or her mother — she has to take it. so she's making use of what the station has to offer, sitting in a corner of the room, not approachable only because she's too focused on what she's writing. ]

It's Clarke. If any of the 100 read this, please contact me. Bellamy? Mom? Raven, if anyone can pick up this signal, it's you.

minako arisato ❀ persona 3 (seelie)

[contrasting]

CAER GLAEM.

[She'd probably be a little more freaked out at ending up in some strange castle that was definitely not in the depths of Tartarus.

It was too easy to be convinced to come. The fairies had told her that she'd be saving a lot of people by following them, and while she felt she still had to stay behind to continue helping her friends, a gut feeling told her she had to come. The first vision, that medieval castle setting she'd only ever seen in books, makes her a bit skeptical to start, wondering if she's made a mistake, but soon enough she's a bit distracted by the large feast presented in front of her.

Despite her small stature, she easily chows down on chicken legs and desserts, munching as she looks at her surroundings. Swallowing down a large gulp of her meal, she grins towards someone besides her.]

So! What's this about a war, huh? I heard we're supposed to be pummeling some people down or something? You know, saving the world, this and that.

STATION.

[Yes! This was exactly what she needed. Entering into the main level of the Station, she plugs in her earphones before she presses play on her mp3 player. Hearing the melody of a familiar tune, her eyes brighten as a grin takes over her face and she giggles with delight.]

Aha! It works! [She shouts it louder than normal, trying to speak over the music in her ears. If someone notices her, she might show an apology with a sheepish smile and a nervous bite of her lip.

But she's far too excited to settle down, racing through the rooms with a hop in her step as she takes in the environment.]

Now this is more like it! Got the tv, cool kitchen and — oh, hey, vending machines! It's like the dorm all over again.

[wipedclean]

[He's not sure why he came back to the feast, except Steve mentioned it might be a good opportunity to meet people and make friends and while Steve never gives orders, he usually takes Steve's suggestions as such anyway. Because Steve usually knows what's best.

...well. When it comes to him, anyway. Jury's still out on Steve knowing what's best for Steve.

Regardless, someone stops next to him and speaks, and he's startled to find the voice sounds... familiar.

He looks down and




holy fuck

what

is happening]

Who the fuck are you?

Varric Tethras | Dragon Age (Unseelie)

[chestbeard]

( The Station )

All this technology might have been over Varric's head, but there was no denying he felt comfortable here. Caer Scima was too gloomy for his liking and it was hard to find any city that didn't have its roots with the Seelie or the Unseelie. There was the dwarf fortress way out west, but the last thing Varric was looking for was some new Orzammar. So the Station had suited him fine. It hadn't taken long for him to set up shop here. He didn't have his connections or influence or money like he did back in Thedas, but he could start over if he had to. Varric wasn't as young as he was when he first met Hawke, but he still had enough in him to start over for however long this farce lasted.

But for right now, he was in a cheap dive of a bar with a neon "BUDWEISER" outside, being served a tankard of cheap beer by a man who probably couldn't even read and certainly didn't come from the same world this city was from. Varric swirled the liquid in the cup, drank, and decided at last on: "Well it's better than nug piss. That's better than you get most places."

(ooc: light on DA:I spoilers please, I'm only halfway through it.)

Maeglin | Tolkien | court undecided

[mining_mole]

[locket/voice]

[At first, there is a small silence, and one might think that the locket has been turned on by some less than helpful imp or fairy, but then a man speaks up; the voice that of an adult, seemingly young yet drawn and tired, though steel and cold lie in it as well.]

How does one ensure to never again leave this world?

[There is no further explanation, and there is a moment more of silence before the feed ends.]


[1/action/I haven't decided on a court yet]

[A tall man is sitting in a corner, a bit away from the revelry, his back rigid and straight, hands hidden in the folds of his coat in the court's colours - he's clearly not wearing the clothes that he arrived in. His bright eyes follow everyone who passes by with a dark tension, and it is only after a long time that he finally calls out to one of them, though his features are still clouded and hardly friendly.]

Hail, stranger! Will you spare a moment to answer me a few questions?

Thrall | World of Warcraft | Unseelie????

[shamanism]

[1. THE FEAST;]

[Thrall finds no joy in the feast. He has a lot on his mind, and he doesn't have time to be kidnapped and forced to fight in another war. It reeks of his time as a slave. This time, unlike his time in the ring, he's wearing distinctive black and gold armor.

He gathers his things, few as they are, and sets foot just outside the walls. It's evening, and already horrifically dark; travel probably isn't advised. But he can't breathe, not in that place, not when he is so badly needed back home.

He whistles, then remembers Snowsong didn't come with him. Oh. He needs to go and get a horse.]

[2. THE STATION;]

[Thrall's homeworld isn't exactly technologically advanced. There are radios, but they're not used outside of certain gnome and goblin adventures. This... this is beyond anything he knows. But it's a neutral place, and he admits it's a little charming that way, so he settles on the patio with a drink and some food.

Just a big green orc. Sitting in a tiny chair, with a tiny coffee cup.]

[ooc: please let me know if you have a specification for canon point since I am ... not sure myself. Leaning toward pre cata though.]

[arla]

[ Clarke isn't the only one somewhat wary and suspicious of what is being offered. She's learned from a great many invitations that someone who appears to have the best of intentions is hiding a knife at their back and an army ready to fight. But this seems...warmer, somehow, though she does not take her eyes off of the people gathered there.

Nasrin turns when Clarke speaks up, lifting both eyebrows in surprise. At length, she shrugs, gesturing out to the people there. ]

I'm not wholly certain. I think the feast is for us, though we've done nothing beyond arriving here. It's very odd.

[ She gestures to the food at the table. ]

It's not poisoned. I've sampled some of it. It won't hurt you.

[ And Clarke looks like she could use a little bit of nourishment. ]

Aerich (Temma) | Dragaera books | Seelie

[lyorning]

[It's perhaps possible to mistake Aerich for a local if you are new and not used to fae: he's mortal (for 'holy crap, you're how old?' definitions of mortality), but eight foot tall with slightly pointed ears and from a race that got named 'elfs from Faerie' by (other) humans. ]

Caer Glaem A:

[ Watching people, including a very dear friend, die, only to be spirited off by what you had assumed to be a hallucination as you were dying, and finding yourself in perfect health and claimed for service by a foreign king and queen was, to put it mildly, an emotional whirlwind. Hence Aerich was more focused on his wineglass and his food than the gathering, though he had noticed the natives and the other 'shard-bearers', who seemed to be mostly Easterners.]

Caer Glaem (and environs) B:

[ As it became clear that this wasn't a hallucination and he wasn't going to find his soul spirited off to the Paths of the Dead, Aerich set about to supplement his education. Which meant finding whatever books he could on the history, geography and culture (or cultures) of the Drabwurld and reading. Or taking a break from reading and doing something complicated with thread and a crochet hook. OR attempting to find where the stables are to go riding, which may require asking for directions.]

C:
[ IDK, suggest something? ]

[polyphobic]

They could have hidden it in the wine.

( Claire had stayed away from the food and the drink, too cautious to want to trust them despite the hunger that was beginning to gnaw a little at her. The whole place was uncomfortable, or she felt uncomfortable in it, away from the safety of the Dollhouse. She hadn't left in months, and being forced out? Some would say that it was a good thing for her but it made Claire hide in a corner - or by the steps to the exit, it was as in the room as she was getting.

She didn't know anyone there, and being greeted by that unfamiliarity, the apparently lavish room for them all and the 'kidnapping' too? It put her very on edge, and far out of anything she knew. Parties, or fancy dinners were not things that she enjoyed )

Waiting to see who would test it first.

( Unless he knew. Was he part of this, was that why he was talking to her? )

[omnes]

[ someone who appears to have the best of intentions might be hiding a knife at their back, or any army ready to fight, or children hostage, or they might be stringing grounders up and draining them off their blood, killing them slowly but surely — so clarke isn't particularly inclined to trust the warmth and the celebration, for all that she wants to.

(it's wanting to that makes it so dangerous, really.) ]

I didn't come here by choice. [ she points out, slow and level because she doesn't know this woman, doesn't know what side she's on — potential ally or future enemy. clarke doesn't want to lash out and ruin things needlessly, but then she's not inclined to trust this woman any more than she is the display of food and drink and merriment. ] And I'm not hungry.

[ that, at least, is a bald-faced lie. at least the music is loud enough that the rumbling of her stomach can probably not be heard. ]

hope this is okay! let me know if I can change anything and there'll be no spoilers, promise

[arla]

Technology was very much not one of her fortes, and Lavellan looked uncomfortable enough ordering tea from one of the cafes there. She'd made a conscious effort to attempt to use her locket and to watch someone work on...one of those devices they seemed to be using, but it was all a little too much for her. She did her best to avoid anything that might make her head spin and had contented to simply exploring, looking for a map of the area--

And she spotted a familiar enough face at - surprise, surprise - a bar nearby. Nasrin wandered over, looking at the beer in his hand. "At least the tavern back home has an excuse to have paltry pickings. You'd think a tavern might offer something better." She gave him a broad smile. "Fancy meeting you here, Varric."

Lieutenant Koudelka | The Vorkosigan Saga | Seelie

[trainable_lout]

01

A tall young man is seated at one of the tables. He takes large sips from a goblet of wine, hunched as if he can curl his long frame into a pocket of invisibility. Resting beside him is a sleek cane made of dark polished wood--simple, but clearly very expensive. He wears a green uniform that emphasizes the green sheen his face has taken on. He has the look of someone who has realized that coming here was a mistake.

When he gets up to refill his glass, he takes up the stick and limps to the wine cask, swaying a little in a way that has nothing to do with his handicap. If he stomps the end of his cane on your foot, blame the wine.

Locket

"Lieutenant Koudelka, Barrayaran Military Service, personal aide to the Lord Regent of Barrayar. I'm seeking work as a secretary."

He opens his mouth as if to continue, then seems to change his mind, gives a nod, and lets that be that.

[arla]

I don't know how many of us did.

[ She certainly had wanted to change things, to find something to aid her world's own efforts to circumvent destruction...but not at the cost of going somewhere else, far from her world and from anything familiar. Her tone is firm but not unkind and Clarke, at least, is being polite. Nasrin shrugs again because she isn't going to force opinions or make assumptions with a stranger, not when she has no friends among the faces of the Seelie crowd, and lets the offer rest where it is. ]

But we're here nonetheless. I've...asked to see if there's the potential to speak with the rulers of the court here. My efforts have been fruitless.

[ It's a shame but not unexpected. Nasrin looks up at Clarke - as humans easily tower over her - and offers an apologetic look. ]

For now, I suppose we're here to bide our time and do what's necessary to go back to our own worlds.

Action!

[sculptor_of_aman]

[Nerdanel herself has come into the Station to get more supplies for her commission. At first, she almost ignores the figure, not immediately recognizing him in those clothes at first. Almost. She stops short, staring incredulously. Her voice is little more than a choked whisper.]

Fëanáro??

Sylvanas Windrunner | Warcraft | Unseelie

[deadrising]

01: At the feast.

[ An endless feast seems rather like something people who eat would enjoy; that hasn't been something she's been willing to do in a long while, but Sylvanas Windrunner would not pass up the chance to study up on the other new arrivals.

A plate of food lies in front of her, but she hasn't touched it at all -- it's getting rather cold on the plate. Likely she should offer it to someone -- a way to strike up conversation, to get more information than the basic amount they've been given. But she can't quite bring herself to want to talk to anyone present at first glance...still, she is staring at as many people as walk by her, red eyes piercing as they take in their surroundings.

You can probably feel her gaze on you as she seems to be attempting to bore a hole in the back of your skull. If you look particularly interesting, she may even offer up a simple question to go with her staring: ]

And how long have you been here?

02: Wildcard.

[ Perhaps you've just never seen a dead elf before and want to bother her about her personal details? Or...maybe you're catching her sulking through the corridors or in the Station, not appearing any more tired or changed from the first moment she arrived.

Either way, she looks exactly like the type of person you should pester with a million questions and bother about all her intimate details. ]

it's good for me!

[chestbeard]

If Varric was surprised to see her walk in, he didn't show it. Instead he acted as though this was any old friend walking into a familiar tavern. This wasn't quite the same as all those times Hawke came and found him inside the Hanged Man, but Lavellan was no Hawke. He raised a glass to her all the same.

"I was wondering when you'd find your way here, your Inquistorialness. Have a seat. There's plenty."

The bar was mostly empty. There were some travelers in seats her and there, but it was an otherwise quiet bar, save for the jukebox playing bawdy love songs from another world. It was clear that most natives didn't pass through here unless they had to.

blue sargent; the raven cycle; unseelie

[louder]

( Blue is not at all sure what made the imp whisk her away. Perhaps it was the fact that she had suddenly become something more; though she still wondered what it meant. A battery. It came to her. Not Adam. Not Gansey. Not Ronan. Not Noah. All special, all different, in their own ways. All possessed of something more. Blue still searched for that, for that little thing that set her apart from the rest of the world. She hadn't found a meaning behind it yet; perhaps that's why she agreed to come here. To search somewhere outside of Henrietta. Away from leylines and dream thieves and living forests and unliving kings, away from clairvoyants and psycometrists, away from pizza line cooks and overly flirtatious hostesses. Away from the world she knew. All she had were more questions. Mirror. She was a mirror. But for what? She hoped perhaps, in this place, she could find something more.

crowns and birds
swords and things

Still, even here, she feels a divide between herself and the rest of the population. She's among such a large bunch of outsiders that she's a bit crestfallen; she isn't the only one. She never is, though. She's always had to make a point of just how different she can be. Blue finds that she grows tired of the celebratory atmosphere of the welcome feast very quickly, and that she would much rather be elsewhere, exploring the unseen, unheard, unspoken of parts of the castle. She looks for the places where others might consider themselves lost.

The staircase she follows leads her downward, ever downward, and she finds herself dragging her fingertips along the damp, dark stone walls around her as she descends. When she reaches the landing, her lips part slightly. She isn't sure what it is, exactly, that she'd been expecting to find, but it certainly wasn't what lay before her. It feels... forbidden, somehow. In the way that Cabeswater sometimes felt; like she was invading something private. A moment that didn't belong to her. This doesn't deter Blue, though; quite the opposite. She presses forward in her exploration. It is a broken, overgrown place, but it holds a sort of otherworldly beauty that reminds her so very much of the people in her life that she holds dear. It's a bit smudgy, she remarks inwardly. Like Noah. But it has an ethereal quality... Like Persephone. Broken, jagged edges of former doors and archways remind her of Calla. This place is wild and untamed, silent and tranquil, all at once.

She follows the sounds of water until she comes to a small stream, bubbling and lively, just beyond the reach of her feet. There are a number of very conveniently placed rocks nearby, and she wants to stay here for awhile. To rest. To observe. To listen for something, look for something... But she's not sure what. She thinks she'll just let it come to her. Blue plops down on one of the rocks and watches the water as it flows by. Perhaps, in a little while, she'll follow it. For now, she simply sits. She watches. She waits for something more.

Mary Crawley | Downton Abbey | Seelie

[thequitecontrary]

[One could never accuse Mary Crawley of being fanciful, but she had followed the fairies here. Yes, fairies. She should have realized how ridiculous the whole exercise was before she started, but by the time she was truly questioning it she had come too far to go back. Now she was here, in a castle bigger than Downton in a time long before hers. If she wasn't seeing it with her own eyes, she would have thought she had gone mad. But she feels quite sane, thank you. Minus the momentary lapse of fairy following.

She's pleased to find that this place has ladies' maids who are willing to help in any way that they can. They're not Anna, to be sure, but they'll do until she figures out exactly what's going on here and how to get back where she came from. Mary has dressed for dinner, but is dismayed that so many others seem to not have. And then there's the matter of the feast itself. While it does look delicious, the plates of food are simply piled on serving trays on one long table. She stares at it, then up and around, looking for a footman, then back at the trays. Is she supposed to serve herself?

This is a most uncivilized place.]