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 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

[firith]

[ He meets her gaze and accepts the praise without argument, not because of ego but simply for the sake of having good manners. ]

Your world sounds like it schools the wizards themselves. The Istari are five, great is their power and mysterious their ways. I have spoken much with Gandalf the Grey, who is a friend to all elves, Radagast the Brown dwells in the great forest where I rule and the two Blue have since been lost to the land in secret. Saruman the White is the highest of their order.

Does your magic remain with you in Allaidh Darach?

[firith]

What draws your ire, lady?

[ And the bow's aim with it, is implied. Having come upon her in silence, the Elvenking stands demurely to one side of the balcony, remaining by the entrance. Wandering the quiet hallways this evening has allowed him to view many places, but it's the sight of an archer (even one of men, reminiscent of Bard after a fashion) that gives him pause.

He is tall and silver-robed in the moonlight, a crown of spikes and berries on his fair head, patiently awaiting her reply. ]

[firith]

[ His pleasure at finding Bilbo in the gardens is muted but plain to see, a shush of long silver robes turning to silence as he pauses in the outer corridor. Thranduil makes no secret of his approach, hands behind his back as he paces over along a pathway, gravel crunching carelessly under his boots. ]

There sits one Magnificent hobbit in our midst, this day. Can he be Bilbo Elf-Friend?

[firith]

[ Turning from a conversation with a goblet of wine in hand, he glances down to her with a flicker of keen grey eyes, chin tilting her way as Thranduil moves, serpentine, to incline his head to Belle in deference. ]

No, my lady, I have not. Have you lost your companion?

[firith]

[ The Station is somewhere he has been meaning to visit for a while, so completely foreign to Thranduil as to be alien in ways that the Drabwurld is not. Letting his unicorn steed munch the flowers outside, the tall Elvenking wanders the interior with almost childlike fascination, long fingers drifting over this and that as he marvels at the ingenuity of Men.

An elven sword rests holsters at a hip every time he travels from Caer Glaem, though it remains untouched even when he gives pause in the room a young man is occupying, sharp grey eyes catching the shimmer of a reflected metallic surface hidden on his person. He stares at him for a long moment and then, deeming him not too grand of a threat, turns to cock his head at a coffee peculator, almost gingerly tapping it.

How does any of this work. ]

[floreatlibertas]

[ Jas hums again, tilting his head left and right. ]

We've been indoctrinated into war. It's rather a bit of both, don't you think?

[ then he turns to Jolly and rolls his wrist, holding the apple out to him palm up. the bright blue of his eyes shine. ]

You can't really trust a fairy to keep it's word. Or so I've heard.

grell sutcliffe | black butler

[erythristic]

1)

[there is much going on, and while she's not quite sure she accepts it all, at least she can understand it. and the way they had phrased it, they were quite right, she was special. that was more than enough to make her abandon even the tinge of a thought that she'd be a wallflower tonight (so distasteful an option anyway) and instead move around, mingling, laughing, and enjoying herself in this new place, this Unseelie Court.

eventually, she singles someone out, going over to them and extending her hand.]

Would you dance with me?

--

3)

[night is falling soon, and that is exactly what Grell was after. call it Pandora's vice taken hold, but if it did not pan out, all she was losing on the shore of Loch Noa was some time. and that seemed to be present in abundance here. the light of her fire burns bright, hopefully a signal to the supposed spirit of the girl that resides here. perhaps it draws in someone else who wishes to test the myth, or perhaps she will spend the night with only her own company. no matter. she'll tend the fire while she waits.]

[confessing]

( kahlan is confronted, in this location, with a large number of things she has never seen before. technology, she's heard the word used, beyond anything she could possibly begin to understand. this new world is far stranger than first glance allowed her to see it to be, and it seems there are a great many things she doesn't understand. she sits, in an establishment that seems dedicated to serve its patrons beverages filled with richness and warmth, simply observing and attempting to allow shock to wear off. she keeps a cool head, of course, and offers no outward signs of distress to passers by... but she wishes, quite deeply, that zed or richard were here with her.

she's lost in thoughts, worries about the others, when the glint from his knife catches her eye. she lifts her head quickly, thinking for a moment that it's the glint of sun on richard's sword. her lips are open, his name half out of them, strode across the room toward the man with the similar build, when she realizes that it's not. the disappointment isn't written on her face, but perhaps in the release of breath and the slump of her shoulders. she then realizes that she may appear strange, frightening even, to the person in front of her. she allows her expression to form into a gentle hello, a faint smile. )

Strange, to carry something like that into a place that seems so calm, isn't it?

AR Joji Yuki | Kamen Rider Decade

[forgottendecade]

[#2]

[he only stayed at the feasting hall long enough to get a feel of the place and it's inhabitants before leaving for the Station. while some of his senses were muddled - he could not feel anyone with a rider's form in this place - he picked up enough to know that he needed to recalibrate his arm to match this 'magic' they spoke of or soon it will prove to be no more use than a club. others have also found the Station, but joji avoided them in his search, finding and selection tools, setting up a small work bench, boiling a set of knives after sharpening them.

then done with his preparations, he settled at the bench, peeled back the layers of organic materials coating his arm, and went to work, all the while talking to himself.]

Never thought I would have to calibrate energy flows with magic...

[knavishness]

[Right, she has a point. He not-so-discreetly spits out the bite to the side and tosses the apple behind him. One mistaken bite shouldn't make him feel too different.]

More like annoying. Break up with one and they hold a grudge for life.

[He tried to see things from Silvermist's side, but he still didn't see the problem]

So, what do you make of all this?

[pterosaur]

[Normally Janine would ignore him. A loner herself, she's disinclined to interrupt someone who's broadcasting I'm-busy-leave-me-alone signals like that. But this guy? He was here when she came through looking for food, and when she left, and some hours later when she was starting to feel hungry again, and he's still here and intent as she leaves her second meal.

Clearly he's not dead. Janine watches, considering. If Loki were here he might have snatched at that tempting loose hair, or dropped or flung a scrap of food at him, or just snapped in his face to see if he jumped. Janine is a more cautious and considerate soul, though she does imagine doing each of these things. And then wonders if he'd notice if she painted designs around him. And on his back. And if she put things in his lap.

...for all her cynicism, she's still very young. Quietly Janine pads closer. Her 'essence', the part that was her before she became a great flying lizard, is not entirely confined to this body but rather reaches out and around it. She has a form of empathy that she does not quite know how to master, and so something of that frustrated fascination blurs and becomes hers, itching at her so that she whips her beak down and scrapes herself with it to no avail.

Just leaving is not an option now. She circles him, watching out of her left eye. Then begins the work of making a paint out of flowers, shells, fruit and so on, ground with a primitive mortar and pestle made from rocks she's found, and forming a brush large enough for her from long grass stems.]

[torc]

[ Guinevere doesn't turn to him immediately. The fingers curled around her bow twitch as she continues to gaze out across the realm: his tone is too rich for an untitled man - he addresses her as 'lady', which never fails to amuse - and a low breath of laughter falls from her lips as they quirk to a grim smile. ]

I could ask you what soothes yours.

[ Because shouldn't a little ire have touched them all? To be taken from their homes, from the land they love ... She turns then, as proud and solemn as the warrior's blood within her, dark hair fluttering around her shoulder as a breeze wanders across the balcony.

... And by the gods, he's not human. Guinevere's eyes are dark, sharper than most, but one needn't be a hunter to reach that conclusion: in his silver raiment his skin seems luminous, pale and smooth as the fall of his hair. She tilts her head. ]

Are you a spirit?

aslan | those books about kids playing in furniture

[maned]

1. Caer Glaem

[ A great Lion there is, but not wholly lion-like. Bigger, golden and with an intelligence in his gaze that the dumb animals have never worn. He paces the halls of Caer Glaem curiously while the feast goes on, exploring the strange new land so similar to Narnia and yet not; fairies like him very much and ride on his back, their tinkling language causing him to chuckle, low and gruff, now and then.

Overall, however, he appears quite solemn. ]


2. Caer Scima

[ This castle is not half as gay or vibrant as its twin, but it is dark and clever and the shadows shrink from the Lion as he pads through, watching their own feast of welcome before moving on. Allied as the fairies say he is with Caer Glaem, there are those here who yet deserve a chance to prove that they can think for themselves away from their cruel mistress.

The High-Queen does not know he is here, for he moves in rather curious ways. ]

merlin | bbc's merlin

[upastige]

[ While faeries and the like aren't entirely unfamiliar to Merlin he's still baffled and a little overwhelmed by the sheer mass of them that he's seeing in front of him; the fae, the magic, the revelry, the joy of it all. He hasn't seen anything quite like it, even among the Druids or the priests of Camelot and Albion and, for some time, he's struck by it -

at least until he starts to enjoy himself.

It's easy to get a little caught up in the dancing and the magic, the happiness of it all, like it's some grand feast or celebration to make far too much out of a royal's birthday. Of course, Merlin being Merlin, that doesn't really last as long as he might like. He turns to head back to the table, to get a drink, when he stumbles and trips.

Right into another person.

Why is it always him? ]

Oof -- sorry! Sorry...

[firith]

[ He exerts patience such as he has learned over all his long years when she retorts with a quip, tilting his head. His gaze meets her own and he inclines his head respectfully, never once breaking eye-contact. ]

I am Thranduil, Elvenking of Taur-e-Ndaedelos. Mirkwood, in the Common Tongue, of Wilderland. If I have disturbed you, I beg pardon.

[brainiest]

Wizards are limited in your world, then? At least, people known as wizards? There are millions of them in my world - anyone born with magical powers are known as either a witch or a wizard, dependent on their gender.

[ She nods, though, lighting up and tugging her wand out of her sleeve. ]

I've tried a few things and it seems to be working as well as it did at home. I haven't really had a go at anything huge yet, though.

:B

[counterbalanced]

That's all right.

[Unfamiliar as everything else is, the sight of a solemn-faced eleven year old regarding him is probably just one of the many oddities around the feast.

Edmund cocks his head, eyes suddenly sharp.]

Your garb is rather old fashioned. You aren't from the modern world, are you?

[torc]

[ Elvenking. Guinevere grew up with tales of fae folk - the likes of which tricked her into their warring kingdom - but the Elves of her grandfather's stories couldn't begin to compare to Thranduil. She isn't entirely certain she believes him ... but then why shouldn't she? Her very presence is proof enough that stranger things have indeed happened. ]

I've never had a king beg anything of me before.

[ The tension in her stance falls away as her hand moves from the bow, her expression one of guarded curiosity. ]

Although I dare say I could grow accustomed to it.

[ Her lips quirk into a wry smile. ]

My name is Guinevere. Your Mirkwood - it isn't part of these lands?

[firith]

[ Being accustomed to the strength of Dorwinion wine, he remains largely unaffected by the fare of Caer Glaem. Taller than the stranger who bumps into him, the Elvenking steadies him with a light touch under an arm, stepping back once the flushed man is once more upright while holding his drink to one side so it doesn't splash. ]

It is notoriously difficult to see through ones goblet, mine occupied my attention. [ Wry humour, just a little. u havin some merry fun there, son? ] There is no harm done.

[firith]

Five. No more, no less.

[ Sauron doesn't count because Sauron. The wand draws his focus, a small smile playing on his lips. ]

I know little of the magic of wizards, even less of witches, but would a staff not suit your purposes better?

[pterosaur]

[Janine moves her massive head and neck around in a gesture something like a shrug.]

:Then steal some for later. Anyway, you should probably find somewhere quieter to set down, so you can't be bothered.:

[upastige]

[ Merlin blinks, looking a little shocked as he gathers himself up, before he grins. Solemn kids aren't exactly a novelty to him anymore so, instead, he grins and shakes his head. ]

That depends on what you mean by the modern world.

[upastige]

[ Merlin just laughs, looking particularly sheepish and lifting a hand to scratch absently at the back of his head. Oops? He's making a fool out of himself and it's barely been five minutes - ]

I just tripped, really, my mother always said I was going to break my neck someday.

[brainiest]

That's... Kind of amazing. They must all be particularly powerful, then.

[ Yeah he's the most gross iF ONLY VOLDEMORT DIDN'T COUNT. She brightens, shifting forward so he can see. ]

It's a little cumbersome, I think. Wands are far more... Special, in my world. They have magic all of their own and it's said that the wand chooses the wizard. That's why all magical people have a special bond with their wands.

[brainiest]

[ She grins. ]

Shove a few apples in my bag and make a run for it, then? It sounds a little like dinner time at my old school.