medietas_ooc

Entry tags:

!test drive meme

tdm

Welcome to Medietas! Have an interest in joining the game? Maybe you have an old muse that you want to dust off? Or, maybe you're just 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 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, 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, 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!

3. Event: Teams are being put together to venture out deep into the islands of Eurus and Mulciber to track and destroy a vicious beast who has been the reason for the disappearances of several island locals. Please help stop the creature before anyone else goes missing!

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Quinlan was aware of her presence before she began to hum by the simple virtues of centuries of training and centuries of going up against intensely powerful creatures coupled with his only being half human. Given the appearance of most of the locals here, he can ascertain what's drawn her attention to him above others. Outside the shadows, his dark attire and pale complexion stand out far more than he'd like.

When she addresses him, he moves his head slightly in her direction, casting his gaze down to hers and blinks before he responds.]

Quinlan.

[His voice and manner of speaking are refined, proper, his voice crisp. Not one you'd expect from someone so apparently inhuman. While his own sense of smell was not as keen as a full-blooded vampire, he did notice something strange in the air about the girl. She was not all she seemed, either.]

And what am I to call you?

Edited 2016-09-13 03:36 (UTC)

[Her grin brightens.]

I'm Freya. Nice to learn your name Quinlan. That's a very cool name. [She likes it.] It wouldn't put it in my century but still very cool.

[Freya waves a hand at the world around them and then side steps away from someone who happened to miss the five foot girl standing in the pathway. She doesn't pull her gaze away from Quinlan but then she doesn't have to.]

Welcome though I've only been here about a month or so. [She takes a small bite of her apple, chews and swallows the juicy morsel before continuing.] I'm going to ask an insensitive question but we can trade. What are you?

That is because it isn't from your century. Or your milennia, judging from your attire.

[He followed the rude passerby with his eyes before looking back to the petite woman he's speaking with. Humans never change.] Nor is yours. Freyja, Norse goddess of fertility, sex, beauty, gold, war, and death.

[The faintest of smiles touches the corner of his mouth and he tilts his head to the side slightly.] I would broker a trade. You show me yours, and perhaps I'll show you mine.

Edited (definitely the wrong word) 2016-09-13 03:50 (UTC)

It's all accurate. [Not that she's having sex or killing constantly but she thinks that she holds well to her namesake. Freya isn't bothered by the passerby, she's used to being over looked and at some points prefers it.]

I don't think we should start the I'll show you yours, you show me mine thing in public.

[Freya's smiling brightly at him.]

I can show you the fastest why out of sight though I have a feeling you'd beat me in a race. [She isn't happy about that.]

You fear unwanted attention. [He inclines his head momentarily.] Very wise. [Whether he's 100% serious is debatable.]

And you may well be right. I have nowhere to be in a hurry.

[Oddly.]

Lead on, then.

[Freya lifts her shoulders in a shrug which for a moment makes the backpack on her shoulders more noticeable through her long blond hair.]

Wise enough to know how and when to blend into a crowd. [She smiles and turns. She can tell that he's following so she moves swiftly and easily through the crowd. She's agile and finds the quickest way out of the crowd and down a less crowded side street.]

You talk like you know a lot. I can only assume you've been around for awhile. [She glances back at him curiously.] Are you going to give me an age since your apparent age is probably not accurate?

Some of us are more apt to do so than others. [It's wasn't a jibe, really. She appeared human. His destiny was never acceptance. He follows her with ease, his own agility allowing him to bob and weave through the crowd at least as effortlessly as she did.

Once they'd reached the side street, and the relative shade it provided, he reached up and pulled back his hood.]

In a manner of speaking, I suppose. My name, Quinlan, is a modernization of my true name, is not of this millennia, or the previous. Quintus Sertorius, at your service, Freya of Nordic Naming.

[Freya assumes that he's merely pointing out a fact and considering his appearance she roughly understands the context. She continues to smile at him, leading him to a place where they wouldn't be interrupted by wandering passersby.]

Five? [She frowns and slowly sorts through the information that's contained within her head. She doesn't remember everything from her time at schools but she remembers enough.] So like, 1000? Do you still remember your birthday? [Since that's clearly the important part of this conversation.]

My last name is Vaughn.

[As they slip through the streets the buildings begin to thin and soon enough there is a forest in front of them. As promised Freya's taken him the shortest rout away from everyone. Once she feels they are out of sight she turns and faces him with a smile. You'd think she'd be nervous leading a stranger to the woods but the forest is home to her. It's something familiar and comforting and standing among the trees she looks as if she belongs.]

So who goes first? [If she shifts first she won't be able to talk without changing back. She can just tell him that she's a wolf but where is the fun in that?]

Or "Fifth", as is the case here. [And so she has a passing knowledge, at least, and something of a head on her shoulders. That's promise.] And nearly 2000, though it isn't possible to remember that which you never knew.

[There isn't any sort of sadness or regret in his voice. He says it like someone would say it was raining. Enjoy rain or not, it's a thing that's happening.]

Very well, Freya Vaughn. [He follows her without further comment, his ice-white eyes taking in details and paths as they pass them. He's just as content in silence as in speech and he doesn't seem at all uncomfortable. Once they've stopped, so far from what sparse civilization this place seemed to offer, he returns his gaze to her, his expression even.] Need I remind you the terms of our deal?

[Freya hums softly and remembers his slight correction in case a similar situation ever comes up again. It probably won't but she wants to remember anyway. She likes having random facts at her disposal.]

Sounds like a long time. Good to see you haven't gotten bored. [That's how she feels it would be living that long. That bit by bit things would become repetitive and lose interest. Throughout history people have been making the same mistakes and facing similar foes. It's like there is only so much that the human mind can form.]

So do we do this at the same time or what? [She can't help but smile at him.] Also I can tell you or show you. I don't know which you'd rather I do. [If he wants Freya to show him then he better be alright with nudity.]

Boredom is easily sated when one has a goal. [Repetition is a credo in human civilization, and it is nearly always one of cruelty, greed, and a seemingly unquenchable bloodlust. At his heart, Quinlan was a simple man. He was happy when left alone, when given a task to complete, when not given to loneliness, and when given an outlet for his desires. Perhaps they were not the emotions of a human, but they were his.]

Whichever you feel is simplest. It is your secret, after all.

[Freya shrugs.] True.

[A smile touched her lips and in a fluid motion she slipped her backpack off her shoulders and placed it on the ground. She then slipped out of her boots and socks, a little bit of a cocky smile on her lips.] Show it is. I think it's easier anyway.

[Freya then pulls off her shirt, she doesn't wear a bra, and then her pants and panties. She places her clothes neatly on top of her backpack and then begins to change. The process is like stretching for her. Her arms reach down in front of her and in figure changes from a woman's to a snowy white wolf. She yawns and shakes her head as the change settles and then pads a little closer to Quinlan.]

[He watches her actions with a keen gaze, observing but feeling no emotion other than curiosity at the shift. Until this moment, he'd believed, apparently in error, that werewolves were legends. If he'd not encountered them in 2000 years of life, how could they exist? And yet, here was an example, proof beyond doubt, that he'd been wrong. He crouched as she approached, still watching the fluid motion of her movements with detached interest.]

A werewolf.

[It was a statement of fact rather than a question.]

Interesting. Now, return to your human form, if you would. I lack telepathy.

[Freya scoffs at him which as a wolf sounds very much like a disgruntled puff of air. She turns, hitting him with her tail, and lightly steps back towards her backpack. The change is once again flawless, flowing like water though Freya is sitting instead of standing. She rises to her feet, stretching her arms over head and then begins to put her clothes back on. At least for a few seconds Quinlan is able to see the wide range of tattoo's Freya has marring her pale skin.]

You know, you can talk to a wolf but it's all body language.

[She's a little sad that the other wolves she's met here can't.] Also I'm technically a werehuman. I was born as a wolf.

[Freya takes a seat to slide her boots back on, her bright gaze looking up at Quinlan.] It's your turn.

Then we have something in common.

[He makes no pretense of understanding the creature she is. Until this moment, after all, he thought them to be simply a myth.]

And as I said, perhaps. To understand what I am requires a bit more information. [He stands and moves to a neighboring log to have a seat.] What do you know of vampires?

[His eyes narrow slightly as the sunlight filtering through the trees dapples his face. He doesn't have the weaknesses inherent to his father's line, but the brightness is still a problem.]

[Freya pauses, eyes him curiously and then finishes lacing up her boot. She dresses relatively quickly and as she's standing she scoops her backpack back onto her shoulder. She takes a post near him, leaning against a tree with her arms folded over her chest.]

I met one in a club. He was cute and I assume stupid fast but he didn't smell like you do. I have a feeling Vampires where I'm from are different.

[She studies him and with the added information she begins to pick up on a few small things that he does.]

They can't stand sunlight. I know that much.

[She described this one as "cute". She was most likely correct, unless this one was a master of disguise, like the Master's new lapdog. The sunlight, at least, was a common thread. He runs a gloved finger across his lips thoughtfully, deciding exactly where to begin.]

A different world. That explains much. [He looks over to her again.] Two millennia is quite a long time to travel the world and never encounter one of your kind. [It would also explain why, for the first time in his life, he didn't sense the Master's mind.]

There is a certain mysticism to vampires in mine. None save the Ancients know of their origins, but theirs is a disease that is passed through...injection. [He pauses for a moment.] Or perhaps infestation is a better word. When a human is stung by a vampire, they are infected with the blood worm. Very quickly, that worm begins to devour it's host, killing what flesh it needs not for survival, and mutating the rest for the Master's ends. Each is connected to him, serves him, and the plague continues.

[Quinlan isn't so bad looking himself except he never seems to smile. Freya's found that it's a person's smile that usually looks the most alluring.]

Yeah, there are werewolves, werebears; I could go on but I forgot the others. [She's only met a few other species and found remnants of others. Wolves were more prevalent in the states and it's what she knows best.] That sounds like a long time in general.

[Incase he wants her opinion on that particular matter.]

So it's like a zombie vampire then? [She can get behind that.] Does that mean you have these worm things? [Freya wants to see one but not touch it. It sounds really dangerous and her flight instinct is significantly stronger their her fight instinct.]

[He inclines his head in agreement.] It has been. Your world sounds diverse.

[He looks up at her assessment, hairless brows furrowed and he tilts his head to the side, considering her description. Yes, the beginning stages of the Master's siege were indeed, not unlike a zombie outbreak.] At first. As the turned mature, they become more dangerous.

[But at her question, he smirks slightly, holding up a hand.] You're jumping ahead. Have patience. [And then he folds his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees.] It is said, if the Master stings a woman who is with child, that offspring will bear his form, but not his plague.

It is but not openly. You know people only see what they want to see and not what's right in front of them. [Freya smiles as if this isn't an infuriating trait of the human masses.]

Patience, right, still sounds spooky.

[She wishes she still had her apple or something to munch on. Not that this is the sort of topic that lent itself to eating but it's like story time and story time usually happens around snack time.] So no worm things.

[It's a logical leap and she can't help the mental imagine of a zombie having a baby. She's pretty sure that happened in the remake of the Living Dead or Night of the Dead. There are to many zombie movies to remember.]

Most places are not what they seem. [He looks away, then, as though looking at something far away only he can see.] And humanity is often given to believe they are correct, that theirs is the proper solution. It stems from a selfishness ingrained within them all, and yet they are capable of the most profound and limitless bounds of love. I believe it is because of this unending capacity for love that they are so selfish with most. It's dangerous to be so selflessly devoted to another. It puts you at risk. It is my belief they are so mindless to so much around them for protection, lest they care and face their doom.

[He blinks, shakes his head, and looks back to the little werewolf.] And no. You are correct. I possess the stinger, but not the worm.

[Freya listens to his voice with a quizzical expression. She knows first hand how dangerous it is to love which is why she simply chooses not to. Since making that choice she's been happy, or at least happy enough.]

That sounds about right. [She answers with a soft sigh though confusion quickly follows.]

Stinger?

[He might have left that part out.]

[He blinks, realizing suddenly a foolish mistake he's made.]

Ah. Your vampires. How do they feed?

[Freya holds up two fingers to her lips as if to emulate fangs.]

Hollywood style with sharp pointy teeth. How do you do it?

[Curiosity will be Freya's down fall.]

[He actually smirks at that. How ironic. Because of that smirk, she's able to see his own teeth, which are larger than a humans, and appear flat and sharp, jagged.]

I suppose it would be easier to show you.

[He opens his mouth wider than his humanly possible, and his tongue, which is apparently in two pieces, separates down the middle as the red swirls at his neck undulate. His tongue, both pieces of it, move outward and further separate, and a forked, tubular, barbed stinger filled the void at their middle. He doesn't extend it far, only eight inches or so before retracting it again, a motion akin to swallowing, his tongue coming back together before he licks his lips to moisten them, and then he looks to her, expecting some sort of reaction, though he has no idea what.]

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