medietas_ooc

Entry tags:

!test drive meme

TDM!

T E S T D R I V E M E M E
Welcome to Medietas! Are you interested in joining the game? Have an old muse you want to dust off, or voice test a brand new one in our game setting? Then 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've 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, but the vessel seems to be approaching a harbor with what appears to be.. are those floating islands? They sure are! And as if that isn't mind boggling enough, no one seems to have answers. But you are greeted by some lovely locals who offer you a map and a communications device and send you on your way. Perhaps the questions can wait for now. There's a new place to explore!

2. Go Exploring!: There's plenty of places to see, be it in your designated housing area, or on one of the adjoining community islands! Visit the market on Aerilon. Hike the mountains in Eurus. Sit on the beaches of Imber with a cocktail. Adventure in the forests of Mundus. Be careful though! Every area has it's dangers.

3. Party, party!: On the evening of your first night in the city, a party is being thrown on Aerilon in honor of your arrival. Eat, mingle, dance, meet the other new arrivals! The locals put on quite the celebration!

4. Wild Card! Customize your own scenario to fit your needs!

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[Obi-Wan gave her a gentle smile and hoped that it was comforting to her. It seemed as though she'd been through a lot and while her voice was strong and confident, he wondered if she was hiding anything.]

I wouldn't ask you to talk about it. Is there anything you need? Alive can cover a lot of states of being, after all, and if I could help, I would.

[Obi-Wan tipped his head a bit, surprised at her candor.]

Are you all right? Do you need a healer? I'm not the best at it, myself, but I could give it a try.

[She stands on the docks, device and map in hand: a seven foot woman with cerise skin, dark hair, and a visor obscuring her eyes.

She's an impassive monolith, and only by watching the hand clutching her device--which is shaking--is it possible to tell that she's upset.

Garnet has already scoured the docks. She can't bring herself to use the transport bridges to look through the other islands for fear of what she'll find there: nothing.

No sign of the Crystal Gems. No sign of Steven.

She's simply trying very hard not to break the only means of communication she has at the moment...because if she's wrong, if they are here somewhere, she needs to make sure they can contact her.

It takes all her strength to force herself to shut her eyes behind her tinted visor and look for them--not in this place called Medietas, but in the tides of the future.

The only thing she's sure of, as she looks through all the possibilities, is that she will Break Yellow Diamond if she's behind this.]

Edited 2016-05-09 01:18 (UTC)

Henry dipped his head in acknowledgement to the compliment, before his own smile twisted at the corners. Clearly, he was going to have to expose his secret all over again -- but for now?

"Let us just say that this is a new place, with new dangers and challenges. I need to know what they are first, before I feel right in my own skin."

I'm... I can't complain. It's unimaginably better than what I left.

[It's not a dismissal, but neither is it a request for help: she doesn't know him yet. Doesn't know what advantages or catches are with him.

And he looks kind.]

But I guess... How many here are the same? Rescued from, uh. Dying. Or brought from bad places.

For battle..? If so, then in a most roundabout manner. If I were to suggest anything of the sort, it might be that we are needed as protectors--and that those less able to defend themselves are here as a motivation. ...but protectors from what, I could not yet guess. And this is of course all merely conjecture.

[Obi-Wan snorted a bit, trying to decide how he felt about that. Did he really want to be here for that? Did he have a choice?]

Well, if it comes to fighting or protecting, I can offer my best.

I can only hope that you do find solace and peace here, in whatever way you can manage it. It would be my hope for anyone, of course, but your situation sounds particularly troublesome.

I wouldn't want you to go back to it.

She nods, "Thanks," she isn't sure if that was a generic platitude or genuine statement, but she'd accept t either way.

"Tables." She echoes, nodding again, "All right, I'll look around." She lets out a soft huff, still annoyed and headspinny in equal measure. "I'll see you around."

"Perfectly reasonable," Adam agreed. He, too, wanted to know of any dangers or challenges this place might present. Perhaps if he masked it better, he could take his sword along after all... He filed that away for later.

"Library, then."

"Yeah." Jo says, giving the girl a last look. Thinking briefly of the other girl, Katniss, she'd met raving and screaming and quite certain she was still home on the docks. At least this one looked like she was going to attempt to march through it all with her eyes open. At least it's better than not. One less person for to stumble on later in the middle of their finally falling apart.

[Alric took that reaction well in stride, with only a slight quirk of his eyebrows--typical of a diplomat, keeping his demeanor affable, polite, and generally unperturbed.]

I'm certain we'll all be appreciative of it, come what may. For the most part, we make ourselves useful as townspeople, however; I, for example, teach at the school, and at the training facility.

It delighted him to see the way her eyes lit up; the way each word was punctuated with with a rush of need. As if she had to say it all at once in one long breath for fear that he would disappear before her very eyes. Just like when she was younger and had to get it all out before their father turned the corner and showed his disapproval.

But at Lyanna's list, Ned's smile faltered.

"Sansa and Arya are here?" Ned asked, instinctively looking up to do a quick search of the faces around them, hoping to see them, though he only only spares a moment before the rest of what she tells him catch up with the rest of his brain and he looks back at her.

Magic.. Rhaegar and his sister..

"Rhaegar Targaryen is here?" Ned spoke, his tone far more neutral that it touched on unnerving. But given everything that had gone on - back in Westeros and now here - it was all a little too dreamlike and dizzying to really absorb it seriously. At any moment, he expected to wake up.

She knew that look of concern on his face. She hadn't had the chance to see him as a father, but he'd cared for his younger siblings with all the love and gentleness as a parent. After their mother died, it had been Ned who shouldered their pain and calmed them during the night. He had been more of a father to them during that time than Rickard Stark. His sorrow overshadowing the needs of his children. Ned, instead, set aside his own grief, keeping it buried within, and focused on Lyanna and Benjen.

She had never forgotten that or the gratitude she felt for his care.

"They are. Sansa might be at the Red Bodice, she works as a seamstress here. Arya might be roaming the woods with Nymeria." She hesitated before adding, "Jon Snow is here as well. He said that he is your son? Your bastard?" She said the words gently, afraid of upsetting him, but the question was clear. It was not like Ned to have a bastard. Their older brother, Brandon, perhaps, but never Ned.

Lyanna flinched, expecting disapproval at the mention of Rhaegar. She had born the complaints and accusations of the others in good stride, but hearing any from Ned would break her. If he were angry at her, she would dissolve into the tears that she tried never to shed. "Yes. Are you furious at me?"

(psa: i'm working with limited icons and not a lot of facial ranges. srry if edits.)

a: ARRIVAL

After the ship docked, Castiel spent most of his time investigated the area closest to port. Testing the validity of everything around him. This is unusual, the fact that he's heralded no answers from the few people he's spoken to isn't helpful either. For a while, he has his head tipped back, a focused and calculating expression directed toward the sky above him. He also spends some time leaning towards the edge, determined to get an idea of measurements or some discernment on whether or not there are actually land masses on the ground level of wherever he's found himself.

The rest of his time is spent with curious eyes, studying people and places astutely. He has no care as to whether or not he might be too assertive in this particular situation. Castiel has never been concerned when it comes to handling himself, and he's always faced these sorts of situations head on. Ever fabric or intricate difference to the terrain here: item, plant, or otherwise is evaluated. He marvels at the unknown, and after what he's been through he's not at all modest about wanting to know more.

b: GET TURNT

How he managed to wander into a party is beyond him, but the music is distracting and so is the style of dress among many of the patrons. Certain party favors and samplings were the likes of which he'd never seen before and it's simple curiosity that has him picking them up and trying them.

After a little while of trying (and failing) to navigate the dancefloor Castiel eventually slumps down in a cushy seated area of the venue, eyes fixated on the stream of colors and light on the floor in front of him.

Jo loves to avoid Arrival Days. At this point, it's fuckall reason not to even work and deal with the ones who find a bar for a drink.

She couldn't have avoided working for a week or two at The Flaggon, but now that The RoadHouse is almost open, and she's got her own staff to handle those things. Somehow. She really could just sequester herself away and avoid the whole, predictable, thing. New faces. More of them. Who will inevitably tell her the same thing they have every time they've arrived.

The problem with that? Locking herself in any of the higher or lower floors of The Roadhouse is just stifling.

Which means going out, and leaving her comm device behind, once she thinks it's late enough the boats will be gone and the people dispersed to their starter houses, having asked all their questions and mostly being out of her way. How there are people partying on these nights is beyond her. Or not. She gets it. Some of them get lucky. She still ends up wandering in, even though it's probably the worst of the options, and even showing up on Allison's porch for the first time would be smarter.

But. At least there's free food, right?

Why he's here when he has no interest in actually socializing isn't something Castiel has spent very much time trying to evaluate. The bright lights and the loud music keeps his mind off of what little information he's gathered about Medietas. Enough, that at least he can rest. He might not need it necessarily, not the way someone else would, but given the course of the past several months, he's taking the brief moment to himself with no guilt.

Seeing people move to the rhythm reminds him only vaguely of Hannah, and he wonders how she might be doing. Heaven was still in a state of disrepair, a broken thing compared to what it had originated as. He knew he was responsible for reducing it to that.

When the song slows Castiel pulls his leg forward toward the couch, preparing himself for a long walk back to the rooms. In the process, he trips someone making their way through toward the bar and food behind him and away from the crowd. His immediate reaction is to reach out and try to steady them.

It's been about a month since Balthazar woke up on the boat to Medietas. The attitude he's taken is, "don't look a gift horse in the mouth." He's spent most of his time celebrating not being dead, and generally slacking off. After siding with Castiel in the rebellion in Heaven, after risking his life and losing it to his closest friend of all people, he's done fighting. Whoever brought him to Medietas, thinking he would be a useful addition to the island is probably shaking their head in disappointment.

He's spent his evening drinking, and trying out the food he isn't terribly familiar with, and dancing with anyone and everyone who chooses to favour him with one. He's feeling pretty pleasantly buzzed, while one of the locals tries to guide him through the lively steps of one of the island's traditional dances. He's laughing at his own inability to catch on to the complicated dance when his eyes land on Castiel and he freezes.

He thinks he's seeing things at first, and the girl he's dancing with taps him on the shoulder to try to get his attention back. He offers her an apologetic smile, and hands over his glass. "I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain cheque, darling. I'm sorry."

He's torn on what to do - he hasn't really dealt with the fallout of his last encounter with Castiel. Gabriel's still the only one he's told even the bare bones basics to. The last month has been entirely about not dealing. He decides to hang back and observe. After all, Cas could be from an earlier time, or a much later one - he has no idea which it is, and he figures at least he should find out that much.

Even with the liveliness around him Castiel feels significantly out of place. He's never really been capable of participating in something like this comfortably but when a young woman brings him some ale he does his best to respond in kind. For a while, there's talk. He asks her the questions that have been on his mind since landing, but one, in particular, is misconstrued or not received well, and the drink ends up on his shirt.

There's no use tracking her down to explain himself, not after she storms off, that's entirely too aggressive. Cas decides simply not to respond, and with a tired grimace starts pulling off the now drenched neck tie.

Funny. Around him, she was usually walking on the star, anyways. She didn't move away as soon as her feet touched the ground, either, glad to see one familiar face (and body, don't you dare lie, Jane), even though she had made a few friends by now, in between burying herself in the library and her work.

"Well, I hope food and sleep are also on that list." Well, not sleep but close enough. At least here they'll have a chance to get to know each other better without some sort of universe destroying incident to run off and fight happening. Maybe? The bunnies were a bit alarming.

Henry nodded his head once, gesturing once more for Liam to take the lead while he followed behind. A pause, before he had to ask, just for clarification.

"You have been to the mountains, but you have never been to the library?"

Running smack into a wall of person shouldn't be that surprising at a party, but it still pisses her off. Which is almost nice, which is perfect, honestly, that caustic, biting, bitter rush of burning heat that floods her chest at being weigh laid, twisted into something to throw all her anger at the day at finally, who isn't someone she'll have to apologize to in the morning, as she's pushing her hands out to shove that person, "Seriously? Can't you watch where you're--"

But the words die, at the same time as she looks up while her hands hit a trenchcoat and it feels like she gets punched instead.

Air evaporating faster than anger can, even while surprise and shock detonates across all of it suddenly. "Cas?"

Balthazar watches as Castiel puts his best foot forward with the young woman, and predictably falls flat on his face. It's not the first time someone's taken something he's said the wrong way and it backfired horribly on him. It likely won't be the last either.

In spite of himself, Balthazar laughs. A drink in the face is probably the least of what Cas deserves after everything that's happened between them. He has yet to deal properly with his feelings around his death. Up until now, there really hasn't been any reason to. Watching Castiel here and now brings up all those memories, and he's pretty sure he can still almost feel the angel blade his best friend stabbed him in the back with.

He thinks he's covering it well, though he doesn't get too close when he finally finds it in himself to speak up. "Never were much for the ladies, were you, Cas?"

His immediate response to seeing the strands of her blonde hair and the familiar hand grasp his coat is to steady himself and her in the process. It's alarming to see her, especially knowing she should be dead. A product of hellhounds and a casualty of a war that she should have never been involved in.

At first, he parts his lips wordlessly, more taken aback than shocked because she was truly the last person he expected to see. Castiel had been trying to come to terms with the fact that he was alone in this place.

"It's me." As far as he was aware the doubt and disbelief were a normal thing here. So many people were confused about their arrival. At least those that stepped off the ship with him. "Are you okay?"

What transpired between him and Balthazar will always haunt him, Castiel aware that he wasn't in his right mind considers himself responsible for every single choice that led up to the Leviathans. It was part of why he chose to atone in Purgatory, rather than leaving despite knowing that he could.

That's the last voice he's expecting to hear, and his skin crawls as he realizes that it's really happening and Balthazar is really there standing across from him by a gap of a few feet.

The look of horror on his face is unmistakable, and although he's clearly being addressed he can't find it in him to speak. There was nothing to say, nothing that could be said to make this okay. Castiel wasn't capable of responding in kind, not while being fully aware of his role in Balthazar's demise.

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