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

"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."

"I would rather like it if the entire Lannister army had their fun with him but I think that's a bit too much for a lady like me to want," Sansa says. She squeezes Tyrion's hand, more desperate than their earlier touch.

"Promise me, Tyrion. Promise me that you'll never hurt me the way he hurt me."

"I have seen the results of that ... and I think it a just punishment. One that fits the crime." He feels the tightness in her grip, and then he looks up at her.

"I promise. I will never hurt you in that way." He rasps out quietly, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "As we have agreed, lady wife. As we will it, and no other."

He sealed that promise, by turning over her hand and kissing her palm gently, knowing his beard would scratch her soft skin, but it made it all the more real.

Sansa closes her eyes. It's such a sweet, tender gesture that it pricks her heart a bit because she's no longer a maiden deserving of such things. And yet, Tyrion doesn't seem to treat her any different.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm not...that I've been defiled, Tyrion?"

He looks up sharply at her for that, before he exhales. Slowly. "You are my wife, Sansa. Whatever was done to you, was not by your choice, or by your leave. I am bothered by Ramsay Bolton - but you ... you deserve nothing but my respect, and my ... my awe."

He clasped her hand in both of his small, stubby ones, his mis-matched eyes fierce. "You should hold no shame, Sansa Stark. The ones who should be ashamed are the monsters who did this to you."

"My lord, he used me worse than a...he made him watch...he made me, and my own blood, when I had to..."

Sansa cannot get the words out. Everything is too horrible and she doesn't deserve to be the wife of a highborn lord after what happened to her. Who would think her worthy to bear their sons now? She won't cry though. There are tears brimming, threatening, but she won't cry.

"Sansa ... Sansa, look at me. Look at me." He squeezed her hand, knowing that she was on the edge of tears but she would not weep. She would tear herself up on the inside first, and he knew all too well how deep those wounds would go.

"You are my lady wife - and as far as I am concerned - you are still the Maiden in my eyes. He may have touched your body but he did not touch you - your spirit, your warmth, and your courage, which have held me in awe ... for ages."

He brought her hand to his lips once more, kissing it gently, his voice tight. "I would be ... proud to be the father of your children. Proud to have you as Lady Lannister and humbled, if you chose to stay married to me. By choice, and not by ... necessity. Never think otherwise."

"He didn't...he wasn't successful in getting a child on me," Sansa says, blinking back tears and looking down at the floor. "I hope that was just the gods looking out for me and not because I can't."

What good would she be as Lady of Casterly Rock if she cannot even do the one thing a bride must do for her husband? It doesn't matter. Tyrion seems not to care about how she's been used and she's grateful for it.

"Tyrion, I'm sorry. I'm crying instead of making your supper and answering your questions. You had more questions, didn't you? About this place?"

"Well, if you cannot have a child than we shall adopt one. We shall adopt a dozen orphan babies and you can be swimming in children and snotty noses and me trying to carrying around at least four babies at once." He stated with a firm tone, one corner of his mouth lifting, "And if you can have my child - by the Seven, bless that poor thing again and make sure he or she looks nothing like me."

He squeezed her hand once more, "I believe at this moment I will keep you from crying than worrying about food -- and yes, let me distract you further. How do these lanterns work?"

Sansa snorts a little at the image of her with a dozen orphans clinging to her skirts and it's the most unladylike noise. She composes herself and gives him a little smile, a true one.

"Well, I want them to have your nose. Now, the lights? It's something called electricity. I don't really understand it but there's a library full of more books than I've ever seen in my life. I'm sure you could find one that explained it."

Test Drive

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