medietas_ooc | 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

"How is the food different? And what sort of things do they teach in this ... school?" Oh Bran, and you thought you had a lot of questions. Tyrion will question you directly into the ground.

"It tastes different. It has different names." Bran didn't want to touch the subject of school. "You'll find out when you need to eat. Or maybe Sansa has more answers. Or Father." Bran didn't know everything and he knew it. But if anyone knew everything, it was his father.

"I see ... well, I shall be delighted to speak to your father about everything." If Ned Stark could avoid chopping off his head first, that would be a blessing to each of the Seven Gods.

"I'll tell him when I see him next." Bran spent his nights in the different homes of his family so it was never known when he would see each of them the next time.

"Can I ask more about you?" He finally had the courage to ask his own questions rather than fail to answer any of Tyrion's own.

"Feel free, but do not be surprised if I counter the question to you in turn." He stated simply, as he looked around, mis-matched eyes trying to gather as much information as possible.

"What would you care to know?"

Bran knew exactly what he cared to know. "When was the last time you saw me?"

It seemed everyone was in the future, this man was no different. Time to find answers his family wouldn't give him.

Here, Tyrion paused, then stated in an equally firm tone, "How badly will your family hurt me for telling you what I know? Because while I value the truth, Bran Stark, I also value my throat being in one piece."

Bran scowled, looking more like the ten year old he was than he had been for most of their conversation. "They're all hiding it from me. I should have known you would be the same."

"Bran Stark, I am never pleased to horrify a child. Not even my own nephew." He looks at the boy solemnly, "Would it do you any good to know things that would keep you from sleeping at night?"

Bran opened his mouth, a retort on his lips but he stopped it. It would not do to be childish in this. Perhaps Tyrion was just the person he needed to finally be able to explain the truth of what he knew.

When he did finally speak again, it was slow and he was careful of every word, making sure it was right. Just like when he was climbing and testing every foothold before setting his weight on it. "And what if I already knew things that were keeping me from sleeping at night?"

Tyrion looked thoughtfully over at him, before he stated simply, "I would need to know what things they were, before I made a decision."

Bran turned away from Tyrion, looking around at the island they were currently walking on. "Your brother's face. Your sister's face. ...The ground coming towards me." He spoke calmly but it lacked emotion. He had finally said what he couldn't to his own blood, after a fashion. Tyrion was clever enough to understand the meaning behind it, he hoped.

Tyrion is quiet for a moment - why does he always have to be right? - before he sighs heavily. "The last time I saw you, Bran Stark, you had been crippled from the waist down. You were never going to walk again. I had come from the Wall to visit your home once more, and to give you a saddle I had designed for you, so you could still ride."

Bran was quiet also after hearing all that. He'd known it was true but he hadn't wanted to believe it. Until now.

He swallowed and asked his next question. "And how...long ago...was that?"

He looked at the other boy, his voice soft as he spoke, "It has been about three years, give or take."

Three years. What had he been doing as a cripple for three years? Riding? He mustn't have gone to King's Landing, that much was obvious, but could he really be trained to be Lord of Winterfell if he had no mobility of his own?

Eventually, Bran tore his mind back to the Imp and he turned his gaze upon him. "Thank you. For telling me the truth. And for having the courage my family did not."

"Oh, it is not courage to be cruel, Bran Stark." And now the Imp sounds weary beyond his twenty odd years. "It is merely practice."

"You're not cruel. But I wonder if you would be if you stood a little higher on the ground."

Was it Tyrion's deformity that gave him compassion? Or would it have shone through regardless?

"By the Seven, I hope not. Even with a few more inches to me, I hope that would mean I was ever moved to kindness and not bringing pain to others." His face twisted then in memory. Save him from becoming his father, his sister. Even Jaime, to some extent.

Bran nodded and managed a smile again. "Come on. We're meant to be finding Sansa."

"After you, Lord Bran." Tyrion bowed respectfully once more.

Bran smiled wider. "You can call me just Bran if you like." They were both Lords in Westeros, but here they were simply a boy and a dwarf. Why bother?

"I will as long as you simply call me Tyrion. Or Imp, if you are feeling frustrated." He gave the boy a mock-solemn nod.

Bran nodded back. "Tyrion." He'd remember that though. Frustration could come quite easily to the boy even if it wasn't the Imp's doing.

"I have a feeling you shall use both, and frequently." Tyrion stated simply, as he and Bran walked down the street together, side by side.

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