medietas_ooc | Test Drive

Entry tags:

!test drive meme

Test Drive

Welcome to Medietas! Are you interested in joining the game? Do you have an old muse you want to dust off? Are you looking for a place to voice test a brand new character and would like to do so in our little island setting? Well, you've come to the right place!

You all know what to do but 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. New Arrival: You have just arrived on the island of Medietas, in the city of Aerilon via a floating boat with people you may or may not know. Of course, you can't help wondering what the heck is going on here, or how you even got on the boat in the first place. But as soon as the vessel docks you are greeted by some lovely locals who offer you a map and a communications device before leaving you to your own. You probably have questions and there seems to be a number of people there already who may or may not have those answers. Talk to them! Or, get on the network and introduce yourself!

2. Getting Settled: So, you've arrived, but now there's five islands you should get yourself acquainted with. Meet your starter home neighbors! Start your new job! Check out the market on Aerilon. Or, attend one of the many block parties!

3. Lost!: Somehow you got yourself turned around and confused and getting back to where you want to be is looking impossible.

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He turns at the sound of that voice - he knows that voice - he has heard it sob behind doors, sing sweetly, and speak to him with the edge of steel. Sansa. Something in his chest twists as he turns to look at her - beautiful, always beautiful, but there is something there he did not expect to see.

Ever.

Joy. Joy at seeing him.

He ...cautiously bows to her, offering one corner of a smile. She looks older, but then again, so does he, with his beard and his scar almost completely healed. "Lady Sansa ... it has been a long time. I would say I was surprised to see you here - but I find today is just one long surprise."

His mis-matched eyes slip over her, "You are well? Unharmed?"

"I am well, my lord, but not unharmed," Sansa says. She cannot be anything but honest with him, since they've both known what it's like to be forced into impossible choices. She owes him her honesty, if nothing else. Here on these islands, she is well and happy but she hasn't always been.

"Tyrion, I thought you were dead. Thank the gods you aren't. I would never have gotten a chance to...well. It's not to be discussed out here in the street."

Sansa tips her head back toward the bridge. "Will you come with me? I'll take you to my house so we might talk privately? I can explain some things about this place, too, if you have questions."

Now that brought a dark look to his face, because anyone who had harmed her was going to answer to him personally. Another mark in the ledger of those he must revenge himself against.

"I had no idea what happened to you - you disappeared utterly. I ... hoped you were safe." He had cursed himself for not going back for her - but there they were. Now it sounded like he would have to curse himself all over again.

He tipped his head down once, "Gladly." He smirked then, before offering her his hand. "Although you might regret it, once I begin asking my many, many questions."

Sansa laughs because it's so very true. Tyrion has always been the sort to be absolutely full to the brim with questions and it's something that she's learned to incorporate in her own life, though not to the same degree. When he extends his hand for her, she takes it, twining her fingers with his and squeezing companionably.

"I'll try to answer them as best I can. I suppose I should start with where I went after Joffrey's wedding," Sansa says, trying to decide how best to tell this story.

"I went to the Eyrie. I presume that was one of the speculations, wasn't it?"

Oh, she laughed. He had never heard Sansa laugh before. Not like that, not a polite court chuckle. He had seen her cover her mouth when she smiled at his japes at his nephew, but nothing like this. She is safe here, at least. Happy. It was all he could have wanted for her.

And she took his hand, no less. His eyebrows lifted, but he gave her a crooked little smile. "It was, indeed. No one could attack the Eyrie, after all."

"Lord Baelish took me there," Sansa explains. She doesn't say anything more until they reach her house and she reluctantly lets go of Tyrion's hand to let them in. Once she's shown him inside, she gives him a tight, less-happy smile.

"I thought he wanted to protect me the way you'd been protecting me. I thought he was going to take me home. He did, but not in the way I wanted. They...everyone thought you were dead," she says quietly. "So I was free to be married again. Lord Baelish married me to Roose Bolton's bastard. I wouldn't guess you'd know him, would you?"

"Lord ... Baelish." A great deal suddenly began to make sense to him - pieces that he could fit together more easily. For example, how precisely his dagger had fallen out in Winterfell.

He walks in behind her, looking around with keen interest, before he puts his sharp eyes back on her. He felt something in his gut twist. "I know the Boltons have about as much honor as a bag of Lannister gold can buy." How could he marry Sansa Stark to a damned Bolton bastard? Baelish, I am coming for you. "And I know that until they had my corpse to stick on a wall -- they could not legally or spiritually marry you to anyone else."

"It comforts me to know that the marriage isn't recognized because of our marriage," Sansa says. It doesn't change what happened to her or the cruelty she'd suffered at Ramsay's hands but it does tell her that now that Tyrion is alive, it won't happen to her again. Tyrion wouldn't touch her.

"You were kind to me," Sansa says, biting her lip a bit because she's a little nervous. "And I didn't fully appreciate that kindness when we were in King's Landing. I am sorry for that. But having been married now to someone who used me ill and...well. I appreciate very much that you didn't force me."

"Neither one of us agreed to an annulment, Sansa. Until we do, then not even the septons can separate us." He paused, then cleared his throat, "... In marriage. Not in, well, anything else."

For she was right - he would never touch her. Not without her permission, not without her consent.

The blood drained from his face at her words - the last thing in the world he ever wanted to happen to her - and it had. If he had just kept his damned temper, if he had not gone to kill his father ... he could have gone to her instead. Saved her from this.

He bowed his head, shaking his head slightly, "I am sorry you were ever in the position to be forced -- and I swear, by the vows we made ... if you want me to avenge you on all of them, I will. I owe you that much."

"A Lannister always pays his debts?" Sansa says, giving him a watery sort of smile. She supposes Tyrion ought to know what happened, considering he is her husband, but Sansa can't bring herself to say it. Instead, she motions for him to follow her into the sitting room and settles on a couch instead.

"It was awful. I know I'll have to do it again someday if I ever want children, I know that, but it will take a very long time before I'm able to steel myself to do it. For now, I'm very happy I don't have to anymore."

"That he does." Sometimes, in full. He gives her a quieter smile in turn, before he followed her. The words that she spoke then, however, hurt him as much as her confession.

He gestured to the seat next to her, asking silently if he could take it, before he looked up at her gravely. "It is not always like that, my lady. If done correctly, with love and affection ... it is a beautiful act. You have had the ... worst experience with it, but I assure you, there are better ones."

Sansa nods at the seat next to her, happy to let him sit beside her. Tyrion beside her affords her a measure of comfort and security that she doesn't have otherwise.

"I should have let you," Sansa says ruefully. "Because you wouldn't have been cruel. I might have still hated it, I don't know, but you certainly wouldn't have been cruel to me. Not like he was."

He shakes his head a little at her comment, before he arches an eyebrow at her, "I pride myself on few things, my lady wife. My wit, my mind, my sometimes struggling sense of honor, and my desire to never hurt another broken person as I have been hurt. Do you think I honestly would have bedded you, if you did not want me to, in all ways? Love or at least affection would have been the only things that swayed me."

He gave her a sad smile, "You had neither for me. But we did have trust - and trust is sometimes a rarer commodity than a good bed partner." He paused, then added with mock solemnity, "However if you ever change your mind, or find yourself remotely more affectionate towards me, do let me know."

"I want a child someday," Sansa says, giving him a steady look. She can talk about this because she's a woman grown and she's not a stupid little maiden with her head full of nonsense. She knows that there's things she has to do to ensure she'll survive. This is one of them.

"So one day, I will ask you. It will be because I trust you to be kind to me and because I am fond of you. You have always been a good husband, Tyrion. Having had a very bad one, I can say that with certainty."

He looks startled at that, he did not expect such a serious look on her face. To be looked at so intently with those warm blue eyes - you have survived all of us, Lady Stark, and look at you now. My steel-souled wolf bride. There's a flicker there, he knows there is, of something close to infatuation before he looks away and clears his throat once more.

"One day, I will agree. But it will be a day we both choose, Sansa." He glanced up at her then, "I am fond of you, I trust you but ... my heart is also sore, my body also used against me. I do not wish to bed someone I ... barely know. So, if it would not be too forward to ask - may I come to see you? To ... speak with you, and mayhaps break bread? Talk."

"If you wanted to," Sansa says, giving him a relieved sort of smile. She had hoped he would be willing to at least try in spite of how awful she'd treated him and that he does pleases her greatly.

"I never even got to answer your questions about this place. I'm awful," she says, laughing a little. "What if I had you stay for supper and you asked me everything you wanted to ask?"

"I do .... want to. Very much." He crooked a half-smile at her, knowing that it stretched his scar and yet ... complimented him better than his old face. Now that pulled a chuckle out of him as well.

"Never awful, just direct to what you wanted to say and ask - now, I shall do the same." He put one hand to his chest, "I shall be delighted to dine with you."

"I will warn you. I'm not a wonderful cook," Sansa says. She does all right, she thinks, for living in a house with no servants but she's hardly going to make a feast befitting a Lannister.

"I am better than Podrick, though, to our mutual relief. He brings me things to cook and I cook them. It's a mutually beneficial relationship."

"My lady I have subsided on moldy bread and almost rotted meat for longer than I wish to consider. Gruel, at this point, would be a delight." He answers her with a faint smirk, before his gaze brightens.

"Podrick is here? Is he all right?" His gaze narrows, "My brother or sister did no harm to him?"

"He arrived at the same time I did," Sansa says, moving into the kitchen to start preparing a meal for them. She can assure him it's not going to be molded bread or rotted meat and that, at least, is a comfort. He should eat well as befits his status as a lord of a great house.

"He said he'd protect me, so I let him say vows and be my sworn sword. I knighted him, too, though I didn't have any authority to do that. I figured that he deserved it after so long."

He followed her, hoping he did not look like some sort of lost puppy trailing after her, as he pulled himself into a kitchen chair. Looking around at all the ... things that were present here - both familiar and unfamiliar. The refridgerator caught his attention and he moved to open the door, then close it. Then open again, trying to figure out how the light turned off and on.

Ah, yes, there was a switch on the door - clever - but where did the light come from? He eyed the glass bulb, wondering what powered it, when he finally answered her, "... he does deserve it, and I'll confirm it, if necessary. I am glad you have had one another."

"Podrick has made sure no one has harmed me since I've been here and he's offered his life in exchange for mine if Ramsay Bolton shows his face," Sansa says. She knows Podrick will keep her safe and she fears that if Ramsay comes, he'll kill him. It's something she always has to worry about.

"But you're here, now, so he'll be glad to see you. I know that he's worried quite a bit."

"If Ramsey Bolton comes here, the only life that will be exchange will be his for his balls." Tyrion murmurs as he closes the door to the refrigerator, then moves around the kitchen itself, eying the other lights that do not seem to require flame. Fascinating. "Because I plan to make Varys a new friend."

He looked over at her, and smiled, "I shall be happy to see him. I was ... worried over his fate as well."

"He never hurt my face, Tyrion," Sansa says, pulling things out to start a simple dinner for the two of them. "He needed the face of Ned Stark's daughter to cement his claim. Oh, but the rest of me...I think making him a eunuch might be too good for him. It's too quick."

Sansa isn't one for vengeance, really, except in this matter. "Lord Baelish had to have known about him. He prides himself on knowing everything."

Tyrion's hand clenched into a fist at his side at those words, before he swallowed down his anger. He was not angry at her - by the Seven he was not even angry at himself. But Ramsay Bolton and Petyr Baelish ...

"Yes, yes he does." He murmured quietly, before loosening his hand and going to stand next to her. He looked up at that fine profile, cool as ice, and he slips his fingers inbetween hers again. "Whatever you wish to happen to them, my lady wife, I will see it done."

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