Medietas Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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medietas_ooc2016-11-19 09:45 am
medietas_mods) wrote in medietas_ooc2016-11-19 09:45 am
Entry tags:
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 Chapter Six bookstore. Perhaps you 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? 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, or Eurus! Eat, drink, dance, talk among the other islanders. It's about making new friends and enjoying yourself, right?
4. Wild Card: Got something else in mind and want to create your own scenario? Go for it!
Furiosa | Mad Max: Fury Road | OTA
Whatever this was? Furiosa was having absolutely none of it. She kept to the outskirts of the party, arms crossed, face settled into a grim sort of frown that just seemed to come naturally. None of it was familiar and none of it was to be trusted. Had she died? Was this some sort of fever dream as she gasped her last? It was hard to tell, she didn’t feel injured, but if this was what came after (not Valhalla, never Valhalla) then wouldn’t that be the case?
She didn’t say a word, but was too uneasy to stay in one place for long. Prowling the outer perimeter of the area scrutinizing gaze sliding along trying to pick out faces in the crowd, trying to see if there was anyone familiar. But she doubted it. Most here looked… clean. Well-fed. Protected from the ravages of the beating sun and sand-scoured winds.
She’d never felt more out of her element than she did right then.
s h r i e k
But it's the Splendid Angharad, tall and golden and proud, scarred face still the same. A bit less desperate, her jaw not as tense. But her.
And she is staring.
"Furiosa?"
8Bc
We have to go back-!
But they didn't, they couldn't. A guilt that she knew would stay with her until her dying day, a guilt that rubbed raw and fresh like salt in a wound at the sight of her. A soft creak of metal as her hands tightened slightly, a twitch of muscle in her jaw as it tensed. And certainly telling she couldn't tear her attention away from Angharad, not even paying their surroundings the barest attention in an uncharacteristic way that spoke to her shock at being face to face with the woman.
She didn't trust her voice just yet, didn't trust it to keep steady to even speak her name, instead a slight lift of her chin, an easing of her expression however small, not a softening, she was uncertain she could even be soft in any way. But a greeting all the same, however subtle, however silent even if she could swear that Angharad could hear the way her heart was pistoning in her chest.
no subject
Her sisters take precedence of nearly everyone, the lone exception now being the tiny boy strapped to her chest, sucking on his pacifer and playing with her dress. And even then, she loves Sprout with a mother lioness' fierce gentleness that's still learning to be liking him, even after six months.
Her sisters, she'd been with for years.
So she strides forward, straight backed and chin hight and eyes focused. Boots hitting the stone tiles, instead of the gentle patter of bare feet.
"Did you reach the Green Place? Did you take them there?"
no subject
Most importantly free. He'd not be a warlord. He'd not be a tool, a thing.
The question pulls her gaze back to meet Angharad's, brows furrowing slightly as she tried to figure out how to explain properly.
"It's a long story. Not here." A small twitch of her attention towards the others in the area, unable to help but feel wary, protective of Angharad and her small child. She was uncertain that the other woman would get through what she said without expressing emotion, and in all honesty Furiosa was uncertain that she would be able to do so either. There was no way she was showing vulnerabilities like that where any and all could observe.
no subject
Her mouth snaps shut, tension and anger in her jaw. They are her sisters, and she doesn't care who Furiosa is, what she can do, she needs to know-
But people here fuss. If she causes a scene, people will come and fuss and bother. She doesn't want that. So she swallows all of her snarling desperation and just nods curtly.
"All right," she says. "I've got a place."
Her own place, paid for with her own money she earned doing an actual job (radio, as it happens: everyone on the islands can hear her, if they tune in). Hers, where she is free to come and go as she chooses.
"You'll follow, right, mate?"
It is, she has to admit even dimly, good to hear another Australian here. And Furiosa is familiar besides that. She'll be more relieved, once she learns more of what happened.
no subject
A slight ease in her posture as the other woman nods, as settled as she'll ever be in a strange place around unknown people.
"Lead on." It also gave her a few moments to figure out how to frame what happened. She wasn't one to talk but even she knew she had to be careful in how she phrased things, not wanting to make Angharad think her sisters weren't safe.
no subject
Instead, she strides through the winding streets and leads Furiosa to a three story blue townhouse, with a multicoloured iron screen door. She opens the door and slips into the entry and then walks on through. The floors are wood, the ceilings are high, and she doesn't stop at the front room with her piano, she doesn't go up the stairs, she walks straight through the mudroom to the back garden.
She needs to be outside for this. Outside, not trapped. With fresh air.
Her only pause is by a small fridge in the mudroom, where she picks up two bottles of water and offers one to Furiosa. Silently. Hospital, and more.
They have bottled water here, free.
There are a couple of wicker couches on the covered patio, and it's here that Angharad stops. Grass beyond, and plants, but she needs to sit. Sprout, she unwraps and places in a shallow wooden box with a pillow in it: an outside crib, or something the nature. Outside his wrap, Sprout is a long, lean baby, still small for his age, with large dark blue eyes and fuzzy white-blond hair. He also keeps staring at Furiosa, as if trying to memorize her face.
Angharad, too, is staring.
"My sisters?" she asks, flinging herself into one of the couches with a deliberately careless grace.
no subject
Even the road under her feet was strange, smooth and unmarred by potholes or pitfalls.
It made her more uneasy than anything the stern, which meant she stuck close to the woman she followed, though the building she was led to gave her pause again. So much paint, used specifically towards decoration, the clean glass of the windows, purpose-built instead of cobbled from old car parts. None of this was what she was used to and it all just served to throw Furiosa off-kilter.
Accepting the bottle she was offered, fingers curling uneasily around it, but for the moment she merely held onto it, taking some reassurance from having some small resource in her grasp. Somehow reassured to be outside again, though her attention was drawn by the plants she could see, the green growing so easily without anything to protect it from the acid rains, the radioactivity that was a given factor of daily life.
"They're alive." Amusingly enough it seemed that of the two, Sprout's scrutiny had her the most uneasy, brow furrowing slightly as she glanced his way before doing her best to pay no mind to the attention. "The Green Place though... it was gone. Poisoned like everything else."
no subject
But she hasn't given her time. Later. Later, she will.
They're alive, Furiosa says, and it both helps and it doesn't. If they were dead, it'd have been an accident. Like her. They were too valuable, too precious, to be killed as punishment.
But they are alive, alive, alive.
The Green Place though... it was gone hits like a bullet, and she flinches as some of her self-righteous shatters, breaks.
Gone.
Her hope, her sisters' hope, and Furiosa's beloved home.
"I'm sorry," Angharad says, and means every syllable. "Furiosa, I'm so sorry."
no subject
"Some of the Vuvalini survived though... seemed to like the others well enough." She'd felt better for seeing that camaraderie, however short-lived it had turned out to be. A connection for Angharad's sisters to someone outside the Citadel, to women who were strong and capable in their own right, in their own ways.
Trying to explain things but knowing that their ultimate choice would be... upsetting in a way.
"We had two options left. Neither one was very good. First, we could try to take the Vuvalini's motorcycles across the salt flats, hope things were more hospitable there. Not ideal, but better than just curling up and waiting to die.
"We went with option two. The Citadel was left basically undefended so we circle around and beat the war party back. Block them into the ravine on the way." Internally bracing because really she was pretty sure that Angharad was not going to like the idea of that plan in the least. But Furiosa wasn't one for sidestepping an issue.
"He's dead." It certainly told Angharad how things had gone, those two words didn't it? "The others are planning to remake the Citadel into a new Green Place."
So much more to the story, but those were the basics. The bare bones so Angharad didn't drive herself mad with worry over the others. To say nothing of Nux and his sacrifice, the Vuvalini, of Furiosa nearly dying, the scarring she knew was there still at this point, red and angry under her shirt. But for the moment she fell silent again, waiting to see what the other woman would say, what questions she might still have.
no subject
This feels like being shot.
Once.
Twice.
The second is worse. Better. Larger calibre, more impact. A seed of shock, planted to spread all over.
He's dead.
The woman who had been Immortan Joe's favourite, his queen of their dying world, looks at the woman who'd been a discarded wife then his trusted general, and the weight of what they've done makes her shoulders curl in.
Once, they'd been two girls in a harem, one pure-bred one a healthy feral, both chained and locked into leather and spikes and captivity.
Now, they are...
They are...
"We're free."
no subject
Only moving once the other woman spoke, a slight easing of her jaw, a nod in response.
She wasn't sure she even knew what to do with herself with the idea. She'd resigned herself before to dying, that she wouldn't survive in dealing out revenge to the mad warlord. The fact that she'd succeeded, that he was dead and she was alive? She still wondered if it was a dream. If she was imagining a future as she bled out in the back of a car.
"We are." A glance at Sprout as she said it, including him in that. Free before he even was aware of what it meant to not be... was there a better gift to give a child than that? Or to his mother?