TEST DRIVE MEME

[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 grand feast is held in the Eaglais clearing. The food is good, the music is sweet, and the evening is lit by gentle fairy lights. All Shardbearers of all courts are summoned here under a universal truce for the evening. Nature itself has shaped itself into tables, chairs, and long couches so that the new guests can rest. When they’re ready to call it a night, Shardbearers are brought to their court strongholds in a one-way trip by fairies and imps. 02. NETWORK Take advantage of your Locket! The network can be accessed by any Shardbearer with a locket or shardless characters with enchanted devices, and is a quick way to meet new people and discuss the state of the world. 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld! There are lots of places to go, and plenty of trouble to get into in them!

Comments

celebration

[metalica]

[ He knows her and, yet, at the same time, he doesn't. That's the only thing in Erik's mind.

There are photos in his hand, a set of them, showing grandchildren and children in another life, another world. The young girl in one of them - Wanda and Pietro - looks much like how he imagines this woman could look if she were younger, barely out of her childhood years; it's the same stubborn glance, the same lift of her head, the same stunning hair. Even as she steps forward Erik wonders if he's forcing himself to see something that isn't there, but at the same time he feels as though it's too much close to coincidence - and he had never put much stock in that particular phenomenon.

It's easy, then, to walk through the crowd, to keep his head high until he's standing at her side. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth, more German than American, as if to test the waters and see how it pans out. He's never been known for his subtlety or his friendliness, after all, a matter he's sure Charles could lecture him on extensively. ]

Wanda.

[intrusive]

( her frustration with the situation is almost palpable, obvious how she would rather be anywhere but here; she has better things to be doing than watching a rowdy party of hundreds take place. she makes no effort to be involved, no attempt to integrate, standing on the outskirts with no one.

the strangest part, she thinks, is not the call of her name, but the silence she's met with when she tries to listen to his mind, the utter quiet of it. she can't tell if it's her enhancement tapping out, if he has a way to block her, or perhaps his mind just is so silent. however, pairing that, along with her name, clearly unsettles her, gaze sizing him up, looking for a familiarity and finding none. )

You know my name. How? ( her own Sokovian accent is heavy, tone dubious. )

[metalica]

[ He can empathise, in his own way; he had been just as frustrated and irritated when he'd been dragged here, storming into the audience hall before the Queen and demanding to be sent home, dismissing her war and ignoring her power. Erik had learned his lesson, in some ways, but in others he had grown more stubborn and bitter as a result of this world - and, at the same time, he had found some kind of new happiness as well. There's few words for that.

Still, he knows her. His mind is carefully locked down, thanks to a particular friend, even in the absense of his helmet, and he tilts his head up as he watches, careful, wondering how much she knows and if she thinks anything of him. He doesn't imagine she would make the connection - because, as he's well learned, worlds are different in thousands of ways. Erik had to learn that a harder way than most. ]

My grandson informed me. [ Lifting his hands, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, drawing out a handful of photos. ] You have a brother, don't you? Pietro.

[intrusive]

( without pause, without even thinking, Wanda snatches one of herself and Pietro from his hand, practically cradling it in her own. the children in it are ones she knows, of course she does, because herself and her brother are unmistakable to her, but she doesn't remember this photo being taken; even if it had been, it would have been destroyed when their apartment building was decimated by Stark.

at the mention of Pietro's name, Wanda's head jerks back up to look at him. her throat feels tight, swallowing thickly before she can answer. )

Had. ( she tells him, voice catching as her eyes burn, looking down at the photo again, fingertips reaching to trace across Pietro's face. ) Had a brother.

[metalica]

[ The photos are protected, of course, not just by the gentle folds of metal along their edges but small charms from the village folk and some other things Morgana herself might have done, so Erik doesn't worry about tearing or grubby fingers. He lets her look, instead, lets her drink her fill in the same way he had done the first time he'd touched them - the only pictures he has of the children that are supposed to be his, the grandchildren that came after.

When she speaks, Erik raises a brow, trying to ignore the sudden pang of worry and hurt. When he speaks his voice is lower and if it's a little hoarser he hopes that she doesn't comment on it. ]

He is alive in my world. [ Which is enough for him, objectively. He had made sure of it. ] He goes by Peter Maximoff and he helped me.