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

[breadmaking]

[So, crowded tables, lots of food, lots of talking... It's a lot to take in. Still rather stunned by it all, Hiccup's been sort of keeping to himself, just sitting quietly and eating--definitely eating, he is a Viking after all, even if he's...scrawny. Essentially, just trying to blend in while taking in his surroundings.

Surroundings, including people. She's a few seats down from him, not far at all, and okay, maybe he's kind of observing her. But he's observing everyone else around them, too! It's just...there's something weird there. Sometimes when he looks over, her plate is full of food, and then when he looks back, it's all just...gone. After a while, he starts peering at her plate more often, checking on its status with more interest than is probably necessary, until he finally gets curious enough that he has to bring it up.]

So are you just really hungry, or are you hiding that food somewhere?

[His eyebrows raising, he looks down at the edge of her side of the table, like he might be able to see where she's slipped it all away, or if there's some animal down there she might be feeding.

...And then he realizes that might sound sort of rude. Backpedalling, he raises his hands off the table in a sort of apologetic manner.]

Er-- You know, it's just that everything I've seen on your plate just seems to vanish in seconds. Which is. ...Kind of weird.

[rues]

[ clarisse sneers at him, flexing her fingers, warming up for round two. that was her going easy, caught off guard. it still felt good, her fist connecting with his face, like she'd actually been punching the titan lord himself. now luke just looks so damn pathetic, she's not even sure if she can bring herself to fight him. ]

Tch. Yeah, no shit. You even say her name, I'll punch you again, and I will break something.

[ that's a promise. and, unlike some people, clarisse keeps her promises. ]

Maglor | Silmarillion trying him out in Unseelie

[bythewaves]

Pain is a refrain so strong in him that Maglor almost didn't register the small imps and their catching hands. What are they to him now? Father's Silmaril is lost, cast to the sea, and Maedhros is... Maglor cries out and crumples to his knees, his hands burnt and bleeding, and his eyes are empty. Sooner rather than later, however, instinct forces him to his feet - where is he, and is he in danger? When he sees the creatures and shadows around him he chokes back a cry - is this the Everlasting Darkness then?

Turning, he flees.

[corusce]

The flame still devours the landscape of his mind, though his body is new and untouched by its heat. Maedhros wanders the halls of the Unseelie court, half-insensate with disbelief, anger warring with terror in the gloomy cast of his heart.

"Macalaurë—" his brother's mother-name torn from his throat before he fully recognizes the timber of the cry that echoes hollow in the chamber about them. The darkness parts, and there flies the dark banner of Maglor's hair as he runs fleet-footed through the echoing halls.

"Brother!" shouts Maedhros, his calm voice rising like a torrent.

william herondale | the infernal devices (omg I swear I don't always essay)

[galahads]

( one. )

( if — or when — asked, william will claim that he'd spent the night on the streets of london; for once, it had been a dry night (only in the most literal of senses), though one could not, of course, see the stars in the sky above, even if one ventured to one of the parks (hyde, regent's, victoria, green—) for the inevitable and, will would claim, permanent clouds above even the tallest buildings in london obscured sight of even the most brightest of constellations, and that was without touching upon the smog. he would continue, then, with claims of starting the evening in the centre of town, of working his way south from soho towards leicester square into china town, through trafalgar square and across the river. he'd remark that he'd started a conversation (a discussion, no, a debate—) with an exceptionally (surprisingly) attractive young woman somewhere handy to nine, and she'd proceeded to lead him on a trek across the city, a walk-and-talk interrupted by the occasional (or more) dalliance into a public house and argument with the odd local who took affront to his less-than-english accent (or fondness for being less than complimentary, it was one or the other, he was certain.)

it, he'd finish, had evidently been a trick; the woman had been of the fair folk and she'd tricked him. (he'd add, of course, that it turned out she was fair only in name, as all fey were wont to be, but that was neither here nor there.)

the truth of it all was a matter of distinctly more sobriety: he'd taken offense to some remark or other uttered at the institute (it was nothing he could recall now, his attention focussed far more on the here-and-the-now) and instead of taking refuge in the library (tessa, he imagined, would either be there or attempt to seek him out there, and he neither wanted or cared for that), he took to the streets of london in an effort to clear his head. whilst london was eternally dirty and the air lacking in anything he imagined was, really, breathable (certainly not in comparison to anywhere in wales, at any rate), it held a great deal more freedom than the more-than-four walls of the institute. he'd followed the fair folk against his better judgement, curiosity winning over anything resembling logic and strategy, and he'd ended up here.

(or, more accurately, there, where he'd been informed of a war and of this and of that, and none of it had garnered any sympathy, for fey did little but speak in circles and in untruths and misdirections. if they were after the aid of a shadowhunter—

—or, they wouldn't be, will was certain.)

the feast, thus far, has done little to help his mood or his suspicions, and whilst he'd prefer to sulk in a corner, he's instead taken to talking to (or at) anyone near, using the pretence of intoxication — he's plenty of practice as to that illusion — as an excuse to eavesdrop, to push into conversations where he can and otherwise see if he can't find out anything useful.

(he hasn't, yet, and it's beginning to wear on him — he'd love little more than to crash into bed and sleep, but unless there's a chance for true privacy, he's disinclined to find bed-and-board in the court.)

so when he drops into a seat back at one of the tables, he studies the individuals near him with a pointed, though fleetingly mingled expression of clarity and curiosity, before smiling broadly. )

This— ( he gestures broadly and loosely and without apparent care for the person (or being) to his left. ) —is quite the party, isn't it? ( a pause and a breath. his accent, for those familiar, is distinctly welsh (north); his manner and tone pointedly, deliberately light and almost giddy, though there's a distinct and noticeable edge of tiredness to both it and him. ) Fairies. Imps. Goblins. ( a twitch of his lips and a laugh. ) Who'd have thought?

[bythewaves]

No no no no no! Maedhros is DEAD, Nyelo can't be here Maglor falters only briefly, a stumble on normally graceful feet, but he doesn't stop.

[corusce]

Maglor is quick, but Maedhros is the quicker — and he has spent longer wandering these halls, he knows their undulations better than that of his newly-arrived brother.

He cuts off Maglor's escape around the bend, standing as a dam before the haste of a swiftly-flowing river.

"Will you not heed me?" says he, in the booming tone that once marshaled the forces of Himring.

...suddenly I need more icons

[bythewaves]

Swift Maglor, they called him once, but he is wounded near to breaking and the sight of his brother draws him to a halt with a wrenching cry.

"No! No no no no!" He shakes his head, eyes wild and fey. "You can't be here, I saw you..." and he breaks, crumpling to the floor to weep.

the eternal problem with playing book characters ...

[corusce]

Maedhros crosses the distance between them, silent of footstep and of bearing. He kneels before the crumpled heap of his brother's form, but does not reach to touch him.

"Aye, as I felt the flame strip bones from flesh, and as I then walked the shadows of Mandos's halls, ashamed to show my face to all who followed me hence." Now Maedhros does reach out; Maglor's shoulder is too thin under his grasp. "Will you not look upon me? You of all, who has shared in both the good and the evil we have committed?"

esp. obscure ones yep

[bythewaves]

Maglor stills, freezing into inactivity as his brother speaks. He shudders in sympathy to hear Maedhros speak of his death so clinically but when he is touched...

"You left me!" the accusation is angry and broken and Maglor pushes away, ignoring the pain of his hands (there are other things more painful). "Aye, I shared it all with you, the good times and the bad - and yet in the end you left me alone!"

/shuffles through maglor tag on DA

[corusce]

"Should I have invited you to die with me?" Maedhros draws back, allowing Maglor the space he needs — but there is a note of tension in the fine-spun calm of his voice.

*pokes through her art folder*

[bythewaves]

Maglor swings once, wildly, but the punch turns quickly into a grasp that pulls him forwards into his brother so he can make sure Maedhros is actually here.

"No. But you shouldn't have gone!"

[icy]

[ Super Cool there indeed, friend. Jack's brows raise as he walks into view, deciding to play along. ]

No problem. You want me to break up the rest of the ice so you can get out of there without making me worry over nothing?

[ Or falling on your ass again, whichever. ]

I'm a bastion of concern.

[corusce]

A thousand ways to answer that, each sharper than the last. Maedhros only stands mute, his arms at his side — perhaps Maglor needs this. The catharsis of it. Perhaps he needs it, too.

"Peace," he says, once the echo of Maglor's cry has dimmed to silence. "It's done."

[bythewaves]

Maglor shows no signs of letting go, even as he weeps into Maedhros' shoul...no too tallchest.

"Do not leave me behind again." The plea is soft and broken.

heh. squirt.

[corusce]

Maedhros stands uncertainly. For a moment, for too many moments; he has always been the sword of the Feanorian power, grave in manner and bearing, aware of his duties and little else. Maglor has worn the emotions for both of them, strung like pearls across his gentle brow.

Finally, Maedhros breathes out through his nose; his shoulders drop as he slides his arms over his brother's narrow back, clasping him near.

He cannot make promises that may not hold. "All will be well," he murmurs, as kindly as he is able.

[13th_member]

[.........Awkward. So awkward that Roxas flinches when Bilbo looks up at him.]

A-ah, sorry...You-- yeah, sorry. [He sincerely means it at least, although he's not exactly meeting eye contact for a moment as he rubs the back of his neck. There's no excusing the mistake he just made. So embarrassing.

Ahem, cough, need to move on now.]

I don't think most people who've just been taken from their world would be fine...Unless you live here. [But yeah, no. Doesn't seem like it.]

[13th_member]

[Roxas isn't fooled by NiGHTS' sudden appearance once. The sparks certainly bring back memories of his trips to Neverland and the thrill of being able to fly through the air thanks to Tinker Bell's pixie dust. Good times, even if there's a lingering distant feeling because of his memory wipe and recovery.]

Heh, if you have some pixie dust to share, I'd fly with you. Think that would be enough fresh air? [But for now, Roxas is content with leaning on the railing and scanning the view from there. It's better than panicking over his Other and lack of escape from this world.]

aunttttie

[aliased]

[ arya stops in her tracks when she's caught, although the woman admonishes her gently, telling her that the food is for all. arya knows that auntie, she is just paranoid. of course before arya can open her mouth, her eyes lay on the woman before here.

there is something about her that is achingly familiar. like a face from a dream or a distant memory. her eyes narrow a little as her brain tries to figure out just who she is.

she looks like jon. arya thinks idly before shaking her head.] I'm not stealing, [ she frowns deeply.] I'm just... borrowing it.

SNIFFS i love that new friend smell

[amplified]

( the sound that comes from lydia at that comment is entirely unladylike, somewhere between snorting and squeaking and laughter. she composes herself almost instantly, though, and rubs her lips together with a wry smile. ) What, so... Harmless, essentially? I'm not sure it's safe to make an assumption that could lead to eventual injury. Better to be on our guard until we know more, right?

[huge_egomd]

"Strange would be one word for it." House tilted his head, taking a moment to assess the stranger. He'd seen enough in the castle already that a basically human-looking man wasn't particularly noteworthy. Well, not noteworthy except that he appeared to be the kind of man who liked to get close to nature. Maybe a little too close.

"I take it you're new here, too?"

[icy]

[ He releases her hand as they head off together, switching up his grip on his staff as he paces along barefoot at her side. ]

Mops and puddles? You haven't had a lot of fun, have you? What if I did ... this?

[ With a strength belied by his scrawniness, Jack snatches the end of his staff and holds it out it trail over the wall. Ice flares in a line, sprawling outward over old portraits, all too boring and brown and dark for him to care about. ]

What are you gonna do, wait around for it to melt?

[ Quickening his step to stay ahead of her, his grin flashes wide. ]

i love your essays shut up

[hexuality]

[ The last thing she expects is to be draped upon by a drunken Welshman. Instinct says hex him, shove him off, but she can't exactly be hostile in a place as unfamiliar as this one. And from what she can gather, a lot of them are just as confused as she is. So Ginny simply straightens under the weight of him, sidesteps (as best she can) the splash of his drink on the floor with a wrinkled nose—but it's when his lips brush over her ear that she thinks about elbowing him hard in the ribs. (And she's blushing, bloody hell.) ]

Oi, gerroff—

[ He's noticed what she's doing, though, that's more interesting (alarming?) than anything else. She hasn't been subtle about her magic. But this is so obviously a magical place with more than just Muggles roaming about so she didn't think it'd be too out of the ordinary. Ginny huffs out a laugh and leans away from him, enough to look at him and mutter: ]

Is it odd, though? Maybe you're more pissed than you think. [Then he leaves off her and she bristles a bit at his next comment, copper brows knitting.] Or loads more if you think I'm part of this lot. D'you see me running around like I own the place?

SORRY HICCUP

[hexuality]

[Subtlety, it seems, is not her strongest suit today. She should just feign being full at this point, though everything looks and smells mouthwateringly delicious and she was about to run into the kitchen for her mother's cooking when she ended up here, so... But—no, she can't shake it, that unease. Even if everyone else does seem to be enjoying themselves and no one's keeled over yet.

Yet.

She looks up when Hiccup approaches, though, and covers her surprise with a bright laugh that comes easily despite everything else. The way her cheeks colour isn't an act, either, though she is a Weasley and they blush as easily as breathing.]

I'm ravenous, really. [Not... exactly a lie.] Back home, my Mum forces about third or fourth helpings of everything at most meals so I suppose I don't know how to eat any less. [Grinning, patting her stomach.] Exercise, you know. Helps keep the guilt off.

[galahads]

( the 'oi' and somewhat garbled 'get off' has him pausing for a moment. it's a less — feminine reaction than he'd expected or is used to, and he's not entirely sure what to make of it. it's only after she continues that he recovers, and he looks at her for a long moment, studiously and considering, before hmming and nodding slowly. ) You're right. I had been looking at you from a distance, mind — although I'll remember to make my well to the nearest optometrist when I'm back in London; it oughtn't have taken me quite so long to realise you've hardly the look of Fair Folk, inebriated or not. ( he doesn't bother to remark that appearances mean little in any realm but especially this one. if she knows anything about fey, he supposes — which he suspects he does, or else she's exceptionally paranoid — she'll be aware of that. if she's not, she'll realise it soon enough. so: )

I'm rather more used to rabbits and hats and streams of confetti and 'kerchiefs, and I dare say whatever it is that you're doing is far more effort — and waste! ( the latter is uttered with quiet exclaim, disappointment and reproach. ) — than simply ignoring it. ( another beat, though this one's punctuated by a wry smile and a glance down at his — their — feet. ) Though I am tempted to say a handkerchief wouldn't go amiss. Do you happen to have one? Ordinarily I'd avoid making assumptions ( an obvious lie, though it's paired with a deliberately wide-eyed expression of wholly, equally obviously feigned innocence, ) but we are in the land of the fey, and I don't recall you denying my previous assertion. ( assumption. )