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

[unclebob]

[He thinks on Peter's words, wise ones coming from one so young. Perhaps the boy-warrior has a point. The cranial injuries, while being superficial save for the eye, look the worst off at first glance. He hasn't even bothered to clean the blood off of his skin. It gives him a look like he's just come from the battle right this very minute.]

Why do you care?

[The words, while being blunt, aren't meant to be rude. He sounds curious, wondering why anyone would bother.]

[floreatlibertas]

[ James can appreciate that in a person, though he's rarely seen in displayed outside his own person. of course, he's been around his share of aristocracy, but if his Aunt taught him anything it's that manners can be the most wicked of weapons.

he doubts she intended the lesson to be taken this way, but que sera. ]

I wouldn't have mentioned it to you if I didn't, mate. [ which, may not be entirely true— but Jas understood the necessity of allies, particularly in a place like this.

he's nearly the same height as this fellow, and he eyes him a moment longer before stepping more fully in line with him and offering his arm. though the man can't see it, he expects the gesture does not go unnoticed. ]

James Matthew B. My friends call me Jas. [ his one friend, but semantics. ] Shall we?

[aphrodisiacs]

Alisha.

[ she doesn't think introducing herself to other captives is a good idea. forming attachments will only make things harder — she learnt that at the community centre. she'd only intended to serve her time and get out — but she's found herself stuck, not wanting to leave, and it's all because of those fuckers. ]

[ but she doesn't scowl or frown or roll her eyes. she doesn't want to be unfriendly at all. instead, she gives him a smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes — as he's right, their sense of humour sucks. ]

You used to finding yourself in really strange places?

[sublimity]

[Peter hopes that if the Terminator can be convinced to have certain things treated, he could also be coerced to have everything else looked at once a healer sits him down. (He has an odd feeling that attempting to drag this one to the infirmary wouldn't work out so well. At the very least, it doesn't seem like he's about to keel over any moment.)

The question throws him, halting the scrutinising he had been giving the injuries. He looks back up at the Terminator in surprise, and then consideration.]

Why shouldn't I?

[In retrospect, it isn't such a peculiar question. He has seen enough of the world, and has been through enough battles and wars, after all.]

[unclebob]

Most human beings lack compassion for others. They are too self-absorbed to notice when others are in need of assistance.

[These are the creatures who's very nature seems to lean towards a lemming-like tendency to destroy themselves. To care for one or two other people isn't surprising, but a perfect stranger? The Terminator finds this to be very odd.

Maybe Peter is one of the few who possess who others lack, though he doubts it to be so. More likely he's merely interested because of the extreme nature of his injuries and the way he looks. Despite the amount of people at this feast, there's only one half beaten to death cyborg.]

[lamentum]

No, I haven't. [ she is relieved, because if this is some sort of trap than there is a chance the others can get them out. an option that would be way more difficult if they were all trapped in this place.

where ever this is. ]

What about you? Can't you try smelling for them?

roy walker ( the fall )

[heroyic]

( The tow-headed fellow to his right has slipped something into his drink — it's begun to fizzle and pop into a lurid orange color. Roy is a shifty pair of dark eyes reflected gold in the low light of the banquet hall, a pair of clenched hands folded with uneasy grace over the tabletop. He feels like an interloper, but he's always been an interloper in some form or fashion, hasn't he? In the fine print if not in the bold-faced headings. Roy Walker, interloper extraordinaire. How's that for a brand spankin' new CV.

Maybe it's the morphine. Maybe the kid finally managed to snag something other than those sugar pills, or maybe the good reverend finally took pity on him and found him something more potent than fucking holy water. That would explain it: the hallucinations, the orange-colored cola. The pretty opal-eyed fae woman weaving spidersilk between her fingers. She has delicate fingers, long and dark, ending in nails filed to glimmering points. The shadow of her hands across the table dips into the pool of Roy's own shadow, and he shudders, suddenly overly warm — )

Damn. ( murmurs the interloper extraordinaire. He pushes back his chair, discomfited, then stumbles (what the hell did they do with his wheelchair — ?). And then he sweeps to the side, accidentally knocking over his goblet in a grand arc of color. The wooden table begins to smoke under the liquid. )

Goddamn it.

( Then, a heavy glance askance, his grip white-knuckled on the edge of the table. ) Did I — ?

[beleg]

[At over 6 foot, Beleg was taller than most humans. So he definitely agreed that human furniture was too small. Or at least, fitted him awkwardly. Janine he could not see fitting into them at all.

He kept a careful eye on her as she moved further out into the patio, and coincidentally closer to hi spot.]

I find I prefer the fresh air out here.

[beleg]

[That much he would agree with Feanor; having knowledge of people, of who and what they are likely to do or think is never wrong. Battles have been won or lost with less.

Whether he would share that knowledge with Feanor freely however, is a different story altogether.

Feanor's difficulties with the elevator drew Beleg's attention. Early today he got past the escalators simply by watching someone else go up first, then doing the same. Holding the tablet computer in one hand, Beleg approached the top of the elevators, looked down, and quirked one eyebrow up at the other elf.]

i tried to resist, i really did

[firith]

[ It would be a feat to ignore the commotion, even more so when his gaze rests on the stranger's face and, well. That's that, he has to go over. He has seen Elladan and Elrohir together and they are truly indistinguishable from one another, yet the differences between himself and the man with his own countenance are striking. He appears ill, as Thranduil has never been, disorientated, angered like an animal backed into its den with nowhere to go. The short dark hair and thinner build are secondary to his notice, mere sands underneath breaking waves of fright that are prone to the eddies of emotion and common sickness.

When the man stands and knocks his cup aside, Thranduil comes upon him from a safe distance, leaving him the table as a barrier he will not pass that allows the unsettled man a meagre barrier. He doesn't wish to scare him further, but Thranduil is fascinated. His own voice is lower than Roy's with an enduring cadence, his eyes a bright grey by contrast. ]

You did not die. [ Easy enough to hear the hushed, anxious words and divine their meaning. ] Do not be alarmed.

[pterosaur]

[She regards him with an expressionless red eye and resists the temptation to poke the little humanlike thing with the tip of her beak. Janine's not used to being in this body around humans and human things. She's a lot bigger than she'd assumed she was, back in the Cretaceous.]

:You'd sing a different tune if you ended up naked when winter starts. So. Why the station here?:

[marksqueen]

I have noticed that.

[after their return to Narnia the first time, Peter couldn't seem to get a handle for normal life. He was used to being a king, and back home he was just a boy]

It seems like we're here for some purpose, so maybe we'll have to fight again after all.

[marksqueen]

I haven't noticed anything alarmingly changed about them. Edmund and I have agreed that we need to find our way out quickly. The food here doesn't feel safe... Of course, nothing about this place feels safe. It's even less welcoming than when we returned to Narnia.

[it's surprising that he would ask that question, since Susan initially worried about the same thing. But the longer she's here, the more she realizes the truth]

Aslan would never do this to us. He was sending us back to England. This... whatever this is, it's a different kind of magic.

[lightcatcher]

[The look is returned only once Fëanor has unmoving ground under his feet again, because it is a bit like riding a horse for the first time - no matter how many times you have watched someone do it, and no matter how calm and predictable the horse, the movements of how to deal with it just aren't ingrained enough yet to use it with surety.

And the last thing that he wants to do is to stumble and fall.

Plus this way, when he acknowledges the other elf's presence, he has the advantage of height and can return the look from an at least slightly higher vantage point.]

Is it that this place is not as removed from Middle Earth as I would have thought, or are you as foreign to these lands as this place? [Because it's fairly obvious that whatever the "station" is, it's not native to these lands.]

Caspian | The Chronicles of Narnia

[ready_to_bloom]

Option 1

Caspian's not sure where, exactly, he is. One moment he was watching his friends disappear through a door in the air, and the next, he was here. Which is definitely not Narnia. Nor does he think it's his friends' world.

Still, there's plenty of food, and all kinds of people, and he's quite sure there's adventures to be had.

So here's a young king, setting off to find an adventure or two.

[ready_to_bloom]

[Caspian's making his way along the food tables when he comes across a dwarf, eating like he's never seen food before.]

Save some for the rest of us, friend.

[But his tone is joking and his smile is friendly. A dwarf! Just like home.]

Oooh, option 1

[ready_to_bloom]

[Caspian can sense the presence of the Great Lion before he sees him - Aslan has the effect of bringing both joy and solemnity to a crowd. But when Caspian does turn and see the Lion, he can't stop the smile spreading across his face, even as he drops to his knee and bows his head.]

Greetings, Aslan.

[If the Lion is here, Caspian has faith that this is a place he should be as well.]

[lightcatcher]

[It's not a notion that the Noldor resents, moreover one that he shares - truly alone or not, he will keep tabs on Radagast, at least to the degree where it is reasonable. He doesn't have many people to keep an eye on these days, though, so it's not like he doesn't have the capacity to spare.

The question is responded to with a short nod. It seem that way - not the only ones in general, but the only ones who hail from Arda, one way or the other.] Nor are any to be found among those that arrived here long ago. [After finding out about the different times that one could arrive, he's been searching around the courts and extended his search outside of them as well. There are a number of people of whose presence he would want to know, one way or the other.]

[knightfalls]

[Mordred smiles again when she apologizes, and it lingers this time.]

This is all very unexpected, isn't it?

[Unexpected and strange, and he's not the only one subjected to it. So he should remain until every last person is free of it. That's what Arthur would do.]

Nowhere. Do you hope to find something in the library?

[ready_to_bloom]

[Caspian has been wandering the halls here for a while, sampling bits of the food, although he's wary about eating too much of it, what with all the magic around him. So far, though, there's been no ill effects, and his head is quite clear, as he makes his way through the crowds.

When someone speaks to him, he recognizes the young man right away, even if the other is a bit preoccupied. He answers the question with a smile.]

Hello, King Peter. And no, I haven't. Not yet, at least.

[ready_to_bloom]

[Oh, here's someone Caspian recognizes, even though she looks different - older - than the last time he saw her.]

Lucy! What a pleasure to see you here!

[ready_to_bloom]

[Caspian's been wandering the hall for a while, still not quite sure how exactly he arrived here, and feeling rather worried about Narnia in his absence. But surely he wouldn't be here without Aslan's blessing? In any case, there are adventures to be had, and he intends to the make the best of them.

His eyes light up when he spots the young woman coming his way.]

Queen Susan!

[ready_to_bloom]

[Caspian sees the young woman with the blood on her dress, and it makes him pause for a moment, studying her. She's got a brave face on, and he admires it, but he knows how odd it is to find yourself in such a place.

He's a little disoriented himself.]

My lady. Do you need assistance?

I am very glad you didn't c:

[heroyic]

( He rocks back in his chair. The rickety sound of it under his insensate weight, the curl of a voice like woodsmoke shrouding the space between them. Figures, Roy is thinking, thoughts coiled into a spring. His right hand is crossed his left wrist, the knob of wristbone against the fleshy pad of his thumb.

Figures.

He's worked in show biz. He's seen the beauties of the beauties; he's knocked back beers with the best of 'em. This, however, is no gold-buckled hokey from Malibu Beach with a bobcut and false eyelashes. There are stars in the gray firmament of those eyes, Roy thinks, suddenly, nonsensically — it's like craning up and looking into the sky and having the fucking north star look back. This must be a dream or a delusion or maybe Alexandra's appetite for fantasy is starting to spread into the empty crevices of what Roy has become. )

Ha, ha. ( The empty clatter of two wooden syllables, falling from a leaden tongue. But Roy is perched on an edge, his wits slowly returning to him; alarmed is the least of it. )

What do you know. The king of - fairies or angels or Clara Bow's clique of cherry chapstick chiclets, whatever the hell you are - is a dead ringer for little old me. ( Another low bout of laughter. ) You poor bastard.

oh my god, yes.

[heroyic]

Drink a few of these and you'll end up wherever you goddamn please.

( A jaunty little salute, just on the cusp of mocking. He raises his goblet of - whatever it is - uncaring that some of the froth sloshes out over the side, splashing out over the table. He's halfway to nirvana, himself.

—because Roy is a child of American individualism at its worst, meaning that he does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. Manners and all that fairy stuff (not that kind of fairy stuff, present company notwithstanding) are meant for people who give a damn. )