medietas_ooc

Entry tags:

!test drive meme

tdm!

Welcome to Medietas! Do you have an interest in joining the game? Is there an old muse that you want to dust off? Or, perhaps you're looking for a place to voice test a brand new character and would like to do so in our little island setting among friends? Well, whatever the reason, this is where you can do that!

You all know what to do! If you don’t, just follow the instructions and HAVE FUN!

How To Play:

→ Comment with the character you’d like to test drive. Don’t forget to add their name and canon in the subject line.
→ Choose a scenario, or start your own!
→ Tag around!

Possible Scenarios:

1. Getting Settled: So, now that you've arrived and wandered around the starter home you've been given, it's time to check out the rest of the islands. There's a market on Aerilon that is full of treasures. Or, you can check out the Frozen Lick ice cream shop. Perhaps even wander over to the Mean Princess facility on Mulciber. There is so much to see and do!

2. Islands: There is definitely some weirdness going on around the islands from the sidewalks that glow to the mysterious energy that doesn't seem to have any direct source. There are statues that hum softly and seem to grow every so often. And what is with these bridges? Oh, and what about the mainland with the huge crater in the middle of it? Go forth and investigate! Puzzles are FUN!

3. PARTY!: Every month or so there's always a celebration somewhere, be it on Mulciber, Imber, Mundus, Eurus, and now Nidus! Eat, drink, dance, talk among the other islanders. It's about making new friends and enjoying yourself, right? Even if you have been stolen away from your homeworld to a bunch of magical islands.

4. No Filters: Every once in awhile, very strange things happen on these islands. This time, it seems like people are just saying whatever they think. It doesn't matter how silly, how dark or even how awkward it might be, people just can't seem to help it. It's like you have no filter anymore! Everything you think, you say! So what goes on when that starts happening?

5. Wild Card: Got something else in mind and want to create your own scenario? Go for it!

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[Getting Settled]

[ It took this girl here exactly two weeks to set foot outside the house she was assigned. Two weeks. The only reason she was emerging now was the food she bought to last her those two weeks was running low and hunger beats paranoia almost. So, she can be found wandering the market, looking for small things to buy instead of the mass stock up she did before.

And to get a general feel of the place. For anyone prone to noticing this kind of thing, she's trying hard to blend in. Go unnoticed. But when one wants to get the lay of the land, it's best to be out in the open. Despite how hugely uncomfortable it makes her, another thing that's obvious about her. She seems unsure. Like she's unwilling to trust something about this place and the people around her. Any time someone walks too close, she ducks her head and steps away, watching them with a glare out of the corner of her big, blue eyes. And anyone that walks too close might notice it's a tad warmer around her than it is anywhere else in the vicinity, by a few noticeable degrees.

Eventually, she settles on a carton of milk, bread, and a jar of peanut butter. She'll get other stuff later. For now, she's had enough of crowds and being outside. Now all she has to do is wait in line and pay and then she can go back to her house and ignore everyone.

Someone make this super difficult for her, won't you? This kid needs friends. ]

Edited 2017-09-11 21:57 (UTC)

[Derek gets curious when he catches the scent of fire and ash in the air.

He started at the market place to pick up a few groceries after a trip to Wayne's World, but now he's sidetracked, looking for the smell. Eventually, he realizes he's starting to tail a blonde girl, and that the smell of fire and ash is mixed with the acrid twin scents of fear and unease.

Slipping into line behind her, Derek tries to make a point of being audible: heavier footfall, sniffing a little, breathing deeply--trying to be very audible before he reaches out to tap her shoulder with one finger.]

Excuse me? Just a friendly word of warning--you don't want that type of milk.

[ The noise he's making works entirely in his favor. She knows he's there, at least. Him tapping her on the shoulder is what startles her some, because she wasn't expecting to be spoken to. She's not sure how comfortable she is with this situation, but what he says about the milk has her curious. She looks at the carton in her hand and then back up at the guy, that paranoia in her behavior not fading much. Her body language speaks for her. Who are you, sir, and what do you want? It's the language of someone too used to people being horrible and having to run for a very long time. ]

What's wrong with it?

[ And please do not tell her the peanut butter is bad, too, or she will starve. She's already bordering on too skinny and underfed. ]

[Oh, that suspicion. He knows it well, has experienced it often. It just gets her a patient, but not unkind or condescending little smile as he nods towards the carton.]

It's nonfat--and I don't know what they do to it here? But the nonfat milk is vile.

[He flat out grins this time as he turns and points out the entrance of the stall.]

I know this sounds nuts? But the guy across the way does small batches, and he has this milk he flavors with a form of honey that turns it blue and--well, the nearest comparison to flavor I have is oranges. Not milk and oranges--actual oranges. It's like drinking pulp free orange juice.

[ She glances in the other vendors direction. Long enough to see the man use the weird honey before she turns to look at Derek again. She doesn't sense any danger, so it's likely he isn't out to get her. But Rainbird also acted like her friend first, so she's worried. Her face, however, is expressionless. She glances at the milk in her hand before looking st the vendor again and then? She offers a very small, practically unused smile in Derek's direction. ]

Sounds interesting. Is orange the only flavor he does?

[Though he's not quite the father to eight he will become -- only two, just now, Alexander has always had a soft spot for kids. Charlie is no exception to the rule. He's shopping too, for whatever passes for bachelor food around here, and bumps into her in the market. Or, well, almost does.]

My apologies, miss.

[ She would argue that she is in fact not a kid and hasn't been one since her dad died, but she's not aware of any soft spots for kids, so she gives the man a small...well, it can't be called a smile. More a twitch of her mouth that had the potential to be a half smile, were it in her to do that very thing. But that's not a facial expression she uses very often. ]

It happens. Crowded market, people bump into each other. No harm done.

[ She also speaks carefully, like speaking to people isn't something she does much of, either. She's not dumb. Far from it. She just avoids interacting with people when she can. ]

[She's younger than him, she still counts as a kid. At least in Alexander's opinion.]

True enough, but usually I'm better at looking out for myself than that. [Unless he's completely lost in thought. Which is not the case, no matter how annoyed he is about being here.]

Same here.

[ The reply is almost apologetic, like she's somehow at fault, too and honestly, she probably kind of was. She was somewhere between watching out for the Shop (because that's never going to go away) and settling into the idea that she was somehow okay here. It was a weird feeling. Highly distracting. She holds her hand out to the man as she introduces herself. ]

I'm Charlie. New to the islands.

He saw the girl the second she walked in the door: scared little rabbit with a great big set of claws on her. She had spunk, and that was something Jack Kelly could respect, dame or fella.

But she was a looker, too--the kind that got his fingers itching. That said, the paranoid teenage girl might get a sense that she's being watched.

And she is. By the wiry, well built young man leaning against a support near the line, glancing between her face and the scrap of paper in his hand. He's doing a fair job of not getting caught staring...fair, not great.

She would be very weirded out if she knew this dude just compared her to a rabbit. Claws or no. But she's too focused on just knowing she's being watched. It's not a feeling so much as she's caught the guy looking once or twice and there's no mistaking the way he's trying to hide it.

But that Warning that usually comes with Danger isn't prickling under her skin and buzzing around her head. Far from it. So she's curious as to why he's watching her specifically. There are at least twelve other people in the store who are probably far more interesting and as she waits in line, she tries to ignore the guy.

And is unsuccessful because being watched this way is weird. So when he looks up, Charlie will be staring straight at him. She won't say a word, but the look on a face that tells unspoken stories of starving and loss and an all around hard life is fixed in a cautious expression somewhere between the fuck do you want? and can I help you?. It's not cocky or angry. It's curious.

Jack looks up to make sure he's got the line of her nose right, and finds the dame looking right at him.

And for just one second, one split second, he's back at the World while everything goes to Hell around him. He sees lean nights and long days in her eyes, he sees the refuge in her face--and looking at her head on, he sees pieces of a world he doesn't know. He's seen dames like her around, folks from future times or some such...

And just like that, he's flipping over his scrap and back to looking between her and the page, scribbling away as fast as his pencil will go so he don't lose it before he can sketch it out.

She gets a glimpse of what he's drawing and steps out of line, her arms still full of the few things she's bought. There's an abandoned basket nearby that she dumps her stuff into, picking it up and this time heading over. There's still caution in her movements, like she wants more than anything to not be there at all. Like she'll run if something tells her to.

But....

"Are you drawing me?" Because this is new.

Edited 2017-09-21 03:06 (UTC)

Before she can get too close, the sketch vanishes in a hasty roll that disappears into his vest pocket, hat tipping down to sit lower on his eyes as he looks away hastily.

"Mindin' my own business here, Miss." he replied, thick New York accent distorting most of his consonants and slurring his diction. "Dunno what ya talkin' 'bout."

"Uh-huh." Things she won't be buying for a dollar: this guy saying he was just minding his business. She wants to tell him that, from what she saw, his drawing was very good. But that feels a lot like trying to get to know someone and she's not sure she can do that.

What she can do is tell him her name. Her real one. That much, at the very least, is something. If she's stuck here like everyone else, the least she can do is use just one name. Throwing several of her usual fake names into an already chaotic situation didn't seem like the best idea.

"I'm Charlie."

It sounds like an olive branch, the way she says it--like telling him her name is a week's worth of free papes or something. Then again, with the refuge in her face...could be she's running from her own Spider.

So, looking her over, he straightens his hat and collar, then offers her his hand.

Without spitting in it--after all, she's a lady.

"Jack Kelly." he drawls, like the name should mean something as he bows at the waist with his proffered handshake. "At yer service."

Does she say it's a pleasure to meet him or any of the other proper responses? Not so much, but the bow gets a brief smile out of her. A small twitch of her lips like the smile is there but she's not used to that particular expression on her face. She does give a small tilt of her head, though, her own version of a bow. And a very, very quick handshake. She's been told she feels warmer than most and doesn't want to talk about why. So the handshake is over a bit quick and she's obviously not sure she should have done that. She glances around for a second, notes the line is long as hell again and decides to head over to produce. Which isn't all that far from Jack. Just a few steps away. She's not leaving. She just wants a couple apples to add to her mix of stuff.

"So, I know you said you were minding your own business or whatever," which is her way of saying she wasn't buying that load of shit at all. "But there's a store four buildings down to our.....right. I think it was to our right...that sells sketch pads and colored pencils. In case you meet anyone who's impressively good at drawing." That's the closest she's gonna come to saying his drawing was impressively good.

Edited 2017-09-21 11:06 (UTC)

The hand that wrapped around his was good and strong--a fella's solid handshake, but it sat well on this gal. Nice and warm, too...just for a second, he could see a little of the ol' wham, bam, thank you, ma'am getting awful cozy for a girl that ran so hot...

Pushing that out of his head was alarmingly easy when Charlie made mention of the place what sold pads and pencils, just made for drawing. Damn it, got his fingers all to itching again, just like they did when he was painting for Medda at the theater.

"That so?" he huffed casually, adjusting his cap atop his head. "Well, y'know--if I ain't busy or nothin'--could be somethin' ta see." A beat, then a shrug. "Y'know, if I was one of them types to go for somethin' like that. I got a few bills ta throw around..."

Remembering the money he'd come into on arrival, he edged closer to Charlie with a conspiratorial little smirk. "Hey, you get that, too? When you got dragged here, I mean--the little pocket contraption? And the cash--can you believe some dumb schmo's handin' out gold for precisely bupkis? How 'bout that, hah? Somebody's gotta be touched in the head, am I right?"

And with that, Charlie's semi friendly demeanor shuts down. She was about settled into the idea that jack might be okay to talk to for a minute or two, but his mentioning the cash just brought up all her old and well-earned paranoias. So she shakes her head, a frown on her face and her eyes suddenly harder than anyone her age should be able to become. No one this young should be this experienced with the horrors she's been through.

But there it is.

"I think it's stupid to trust that something like money and a house comes without strings. There are always strings." She wants to say more. She wants to say that the people pulling the strings always act like they're so benevolent and caring. But they aren't. They never are. They never have been. While she stops herself from saying that much, maybe it's clear somehow that this is a girl speaking from experience.

She shifts the basket in her hands and takes a small step back.

"I have to get this stuff back to the house they gave me. Good luck minding your own business, Jack. " What she means is good luck with your drawings, but she's hit a limit with socialization and just wants to get away. Far away. Back to the house she shares with no one where it's quiet and she can breathe again.

At the very least, Jack gets an apologetic look. Like she was actually enjoying talking to him, weird as that was for her.

"Whoah--hey, whoah." Jack replied, arms spread and anger rolling off of him at her snap judgment. One thing Jack had learned was to read people--which angle to run to sell those last couple of papes, how long he had before someone tipped off Snyder, figuring out who knew Snyder or had heard of him...

He weren't wrong about this girl. She had the refuge on her face...so why the hell was she judging him for cutting and running with a good deal?

"If there's one thing Jack Kelly's got, it's an eye, dollface." he pointed out, jabbing a finger in her direction with a dangerous spark in his eye. "And I see where you come from--the streets leave grit in yer eye. So you can run off and buy your bread 'n your milk with all that money you don't trust--but first you tell me where the hell you get off judgin' me for runnin' wit' a good deal while I can. I'm from the same streets you is...and there's only one way you keep from bein' a charity case: that's doin' what you gotta do on your terms. If that means takin' a pile of money what been offered by some mark in a fancy tower? Sweetheart, I'm gonna take the dough and spend every red cent 'fore the marks catch on, you hear me?"

"Now who the fuck said I was judging you? I don't have a reason to. You haven't given me one." She straightens herself to her full height, annoyance rolling off of her. But not anger. She won't let herself get mad over something like this. That's when fires start and people get hurt, despite how badly she doesn't want to hurt anyone. So she fixes Jack with a look of confusion.

"If that's what works for you, go for it. Spend the money. In my own personal experience, people aren't nice. Not this nice. Not without wanting something. Not without taking someone..." And here we have Charlie flinch just subtly at her own slip, eyes closing for a second as she redirects her words. "Taking something I need in my life. So before you assume I'm judging you for doing things your way? Maybe take into consideration the streets we're both from aren't quite as similar as you think."

Unless of course Jack has powers and had a government group after him for said powers.

"I am very, genuinely sorry if you think I was judging you. I'm the last person who should be judging anyone for anything."

Edited 2017-09-21 20:45 (UTC)

Oh no. No, Jack caught the slip, and it stabbed at him something awful when he pictured Crutchie being hauled away, all beat up and broken...

Then, of course, there was the bills Pulitzer threw at him.

"There's one simple fix when they take someone from you, dollface." Jack replied, jaw still set with anger and dark eyes burning with quiet, simmering fury.

"You take everything else. You stop the world. And trust me, I seen it done."

For a second, Charlie feels like she's looking into a god damn mirror and it's terrifying. She's been that angry before. Worse. And people paid dearly. But there was something about this short tempered, plain spoken guy that she enjoyed. Still, she was cautious. Always and ever cautious, even with that voice telling her this was fine. He was okay.

"I'll tell you about it sometime." An implied she's been there already in the quiet way she says it. It's just for him to hear. Just Jack. She's starting to think maybe she can trust this guy. Probably.

Foolish decision, most likely.

He hears that much--but Jack's far more interested in the words than the implication. His anger's gone in an instant, replaced with a sly smile as he reaches up to remove his cap and resettle it more securely atop his head.

"That mean I am gonna see you 'n dem gams again soon?" he asked hopefully

The face she makes at what he says is probably nothing short of hilarious. It's confusion at the phrasing, even if she does know what he means, and just a look of purely amused 'what the fuck?!' That a phrase like that is directed at her.

"Well, unless I take horrifyingly drastic measures, that's kind of a given. They're sorta attached to the rest of me." Did we mention her sense of humor is dry with a side of somewhat dark? That should be a warning label somewhere. At least there's a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Most likely, Jack. Most likely." Not that she'll be seeking him out yet. But she won't try to rabbit off if they run into each other again.

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tdm!

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Re: Charlie McGee - Firestarter - OTA

Re: Charlie McGee - Firestarter - OTA

Re: Charlie McGee - Firestarter - OTA

Re: Charlie McGee - Firestarter - OTA

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