TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[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

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier | Captain America: The Winter Soldier | Unseelie

[wipedclean]

01. Unseelie Feast

[Even if he were inclined to have a good time, he's too busy being distracted by the fact his arm won't move. He's done everything he can think of, but the metal prosthetic is simply a dead weight at his side, big and heavy and unwieldy, and there's nothing he can do.

He's been told where he is and why. He'd have trouble believing it, but it's happening.

Well. The best he can do for the moment is observe. Observe, learn, and figure out if there's a way out of here.

But if there's a way out, does he really even want to take it? He barely even knows who he is, it almost hardly makes a difference where he is.

Regardless, that's a consideration for later. For now, he stands at the edges of the feast, his metal arm cradled in his natural arm in front of him as he watches everything around him.]

02. The Station

[His arm works here, and that's all that really matters.

No, that's not true. It matters that this place is completely... out of place here, even though it feels much more natural to him than the rest of this whole world. It's a reminder of what he's been taken from, what he needs to find, what he needs to learn, things he's almost forgotten in the midst of the strangeness of the rest of this place.

He stands in a dark corner, working his metal arm, moving it around, stretching sore muscles aching from how he's had to carry around a massive dead weight at his side.

Once he's moving properly again, he pulls out a knife and goes through a few practice motions, slowly at first, then faster and faster until he suddenly stops, nodding, satisfied.]

2!

[starspangled]

[It's been awhile since Steve was last at the Station, halfway through a long journey then, before the fairy rings made travel a lot easier. He's returning now to try and repay a certain store, because that was the condition he gave Bucky before he stole borrowed a fresh set of clothes for the both of them.

He should probably come more often, because Steve knows that things are more familiar to him too here. He just has trouble saying it. Truth is, he feels a little out of place no matter where he is, and it turns out that things aren't even so different from one world to the next. He's just traded one battle for another.

Steve's noting the crowd casually, towering over most of them as he moves through. But there's a man in the corner who's about the same size that he is, a man with a knife and a metal arm-]

Bucky.

[He stops dead in his tracks, posture tense. Steve's been waiting for this moment, even expecting it after he left this world and found himself brought right back again. He assumed the same would happen when Bucky vanished. So Steve's been waiting, preparing himself for it and the changes that would surely happen to his friend.

And now that it's happening, he doesn't feel prepared at all.]

[wipedclean]

[He hears the footsteps before he hears the voice, and he knows both sounds. His memories are still fractured and disordered but that voice and those footsteps are tattooed on his brain. He's not sure he could ever really forget.

He turns his head, looks at him.

There's still a whisper of a mission in the back of his head but he disregards it. That he can is a marvel in and of itself, but in the face of so many other difficulties it's not much to celebrate. After all, that mission is null and void.]

You.

[...no. That's not right. It's not enough. But he's grasping for what else to say and all he can hear are the echoes of that museum exhibit.

Best friends since childhood.

Inseparable.

So why can't he remember?]

You're here too.

[starspangled]

[Once, he knew Bucky Barnes like the back of his own hand. But there's doubt now, an uncertainty that makes Steve move away from the rest of the crowd should Bucky choose to attack. It makes him look to the nearest exit and figure if he could beat him there should he choose to escape. Steve doesn't want him to do either. He's still his best friend, even if he doesn't remember it.]

Yeah. I have been for a little while.

[He's talking. That's good, and Steve starts to unwind slowly, the shield low at his side.]

What's the last thing you remember?

[wipedclean]

[It's impossible for him not to notice the way the Captain looks for exits, and for a moment he tenses, but he knows there won't be an attack. If he wouldn't attack on the carrier, he won't attack here.

He hesitates, but keeps his knife low.

The question isn't strange to him. Not when he's so unsure of his own memories.]

I pulled you out of the river.

[He hesitates, unsure if he wants to admit the next part.

But he does anyway. He wants to understand. He wants to remember.]

I went to the exhibit.

1!

[milkdrinker]

[ Now that metal arm is a sight to behold.

So much so that J'sairr can't quite get himself to stop beholding it. He can't fully figure out exactly what it is just by looking at it — some sort of guard, perhaps? Or is it truly an entire prosthetic...?

At any rate, he's not exactly quick to catch himself staring, and when he does, it's all he can do to apologize in a flustered fit. ]

Ah— This one did not mean to stare, sir...

[wipedclean]

[It's a cat.

It's a fucking cat and it's fucking talking to him.

If there's anything that could get him to keep from being fixated on his malfunctioning arm it's that. He stares right back, his brow furrowed.]

...you're a cat.

[milkdrinker]

[ Well, now that the surprise has worn off, J'sairr can clearly see there's some explaining to do. (Again. As he should be used to by now, really...) ]

This one is Khajiit, yes. [ He pauses for a moment, considering his words with care. ] There are none like us in your world, no?

[wipedclean]

[The... cat talks strangely, but he can follow it well enough.]

No.

[There definitely are not.]

[mines_bigger]

[There were many stunning figures in the feast, people out obviously with the goal to impress others. This man certainly stands out from the rest, an entire arm shining, silvery metal. It looks utterly non-functional, unwieldy, but surely would have cost a fortune, so perhaps more gold than brains here.

And yet...the man's actions were utterly at odds with that assessment. He was off to the side, simply watching,, not posturing, and so Aeler stopped, head tilting, curious.]

Maybe next time, consider function over form. [His head jerks to the metal arm resting in the man's arms, voice unsympathetic.]

[wipedclean]

[As soon as the man approaches, he's watching him, and when he's addressed he scowls slightly.]

It wasn't my choice.

[Not that anything was in the past... he doesn't even know how long.

There's a moment where he suddenly feels the need to explain further, but the words are difficult to come by.]

Usually it's functional.

[There. Why are words hard?

...because he usually isn't supposed to talk much.]

[mines_bigger]

[Aeler's brow raises at that; interesting indeed. A metal arm that actually worked, an enscorcelled object perhaps? It would be fearsome in a fight, that much was certain and Aeler eyed this man with a touch more respect, his gaze sharpening.]

Not by choice, eh? Were you to be some lord's most prized, and feared fighter? His favorite pet? [Unconsciously Aeler touches the brand at the back of his own hand, fingers tracing at the edges where the raised scar tissue had been smoothed down into a featureless scar, the new flesh still young.]

[wipedclean]

[It's a strange way to describe it, but he can't deny it's... as close to the truth as you can get without actually directly describing it. His brow furrows and he nods as his fist flexes against the arm.]

...yes.

(2)

[bokator]

[ Rose would have ignored him as she passed, the metal arm is a curiosity but none of her concern, the knife is hardly unusual, the set of his shoulders and the leave me alone air he projects while standing still is more than enough to send her on her way. She's not here looking for trouble: she even left her swords at her quarters. This is recon-only. ]

[ She stops only when he starts practicing, staring despite herself. Only one man has ever moved with this vicious poetry, to find a second in this place should be funny. The glissade of the weapon in his fingers is hypnotic, the shadows cast by his hand struggle to keep up, rolling into blurs. Abruptly, and acutely, she misses watching her father use his steel; her calm expression softens into something warm. ]

[ When he's done, Rose's smile widens. She's worn the skin of a predator for long but — not now. He's not prey. She pulls her own knife from her pocket, shows it to him, and then mimics his movements precisely, matching his speed with ease. ]

[wipedclean]

[It's impossible for him not to notice her, but he doesn't stop his motions because of it. When he's done, he turns his head to look at her. It confuses him, that she's just... watching.

So he watches back, sizing her up. When she pulls out the knife he tenses, his hand curling around the knife, but she's still not attacking him. She's... showing the knife to him. He glances down at it, looks at it, lifts his gaze back to her.

As soon as she starts moving he can tell. She's copying him. Exactly.

He stares, his brow furrowed.

How...?]

[bokator]

[ If it were anyone else she'd glare back, tilt her chin up, dare them to come right at her: she might be small but she's nowhere near weak. Him, though, he's too taut, his shoulders set instantly and prepare for an attack, something in his eyes makes her think of a caged animal. He doesn't flinch at her weapon but - he didn't expect her to do that, either. Something about that bugs her. If he can use a knife like that, why should she pose any threat to him? He's bigger and stronger. If anything, she should be the one worried. ]

[ She puts away her knife, and keeps smiling, just standing where she is. ]

That was pretty cool. [ Tilting her head curiously, ] Army?

[wipedclean]

[It's pretty simple. In his world, either you're a threat, a target, or irrelevant. At least, that's the way it was. But old, deeply ingrained and conditioned habits die hard.

His hand stays ready around his knife, but his shoulders lose a little bit of their tension as the attack continues to... not happen.

And she keeps smiling. It's strange.

Something in the back of his mind mutters show off, but it doesn't mean anything to him.]

No.

[...well. If that exhibit was trustworthy, he was at one point, but he doesn't think he can associate with that. Not yet. Who he is now is not what he was then.]

2, I'M SO SORRY.........

[gleamed]

[ rapunzel's sense of self-preservation has pretty much gone out the window in favor of her curiosity. so instead of leaving strangers with knives well enough alone like she should (what would her mother think!), she approaches - with a toaster in her arms, because the station is a veritable gold mine of weird contraptions she knows nothing about - and not-so-gracefully announces her presence as the toaster tumbles out of her arms and onto the ground. welp. ]

Sorry! I'm sorry!

DON'T BE I'M CRACKING UP

[wipedclean]

[He notices her approaching, but he doesn't turn until the sound of the toaster falling startles him into acknowledging her presence. He looks down at the toaster in confusion, then up at her and... well.

That's a lot of hair.

She's clearly not a threat, not with a toaster and what looks to be 70 feet of hair.

Well. He's a little at a loss of what to do, so he puts his knife away and bends down to pick up the toaster and offer it to her.]

OH GOOD mission accomplished

[gleamed]

[ she sheepishly takes the toaster, noting a decent dent in its side now (oh dear). not that...she knows how to use it anyway, but she still intends to take it apart and find out. just a little spit and polish, and it'd be good as...

oh, right. where are her manners? her mother would be appalled. ]

Thank you! Sorry for interrupting. [ she offers him a sincere, if awkward smile. ] Um - you're very good at the knife! Thing. Mhm, very...stabby.

[wipedclean]

[...He should respond somehow, yes? Probably. He nods somewhat hesitantly, but he's got something else on his mind.]

Why do you have a toaster?

[noodled]

[Wandering around the station, Naruto had finally found his favorite food. Ramen. It wasn't all that great but it would do. He had been worried that he wouldn't find the blessed food. Looked around for a place to see when he saw a man with a metal arm practicing with a knife. Was this another shinobi from his world? In both hope and dread, he decided to get closer without alerting in order to confirm.]

Wow, he is skilled in Bukijutsu.

[As luck would have it, his stomach growled when he whispered to himself. Naruto clearly forgot he was hungry as he came out from his spot with a embarrassed grin.]

Gomen, I saw you practicing and...

[wipedclean]

[As soon as he hears the new arrival, he snaps his head around to look at him. He lowers his arm, but his knife is still at the ready, and he's not relaxing at all.

He stares silently for a long moment.]

What do you want?

[noodled]

Hey, you don't have to be rude, ya know?

[He took a bite from his ramen.]

The name's Naruto. A shinobi from Konoha. Are you a fellow shinobi?

[wipedclean]

[He blinks, but he's not about to apologize because he's done nothing wrong. Besides, he doesn't know how to be polite. It's irrelevant.

He tilts his head slightly at the words. He doesn't know the word shinobi. It sounds like Japanese, but he doesn't know Japanese.]

I don't know what that is.