Test Drive Meme | #29

[ironwood]

TEST DRIVE MEME - TU SHANSHU EDITION!

Itching to try out writing a character? Then rev up your engines, grab your accounts, and slam your way into this meme! Here is a venue for you to try out whatever character there might be tickling your fancy, from fandom to OC, for as few as one and as many as MANY. Seriously, there's no limit. How do you partake in this fantastic congregation of character testing? Why, by following these simple steps: → Comment with the journal of a character you want to test; put their name and canon in the subject line for added sparkles. → Tag around with everyone! → Profit like you live on a the back of a turtle! → Maybe even RESERVE so you CAN live on the back of a turtle! But wait, there's more! For the low, low price of $9,999.99, you can even use one of our handy prompts when you tag someone. You could even pick one with a Random Number Generator to help decide which prompt to go with! Haggling Over Something in the Marketplace! Maybe someone else saw the exact same shiny thing you did at the exact same moment! However shall this be resolved? Remember: blood is extremely hard to scrub off of turtle shell! Dramatic Chase Sequence! You're running away from something! It could be anything, from a rampaging kirin to a gaggle of overly enthusiastic children! One way or another, you can't stop, and much like a katamari ball, you feel obligated to grab everyone in your path along the way to keep them out of danger! Or perhaps you're more the sort to try and knock them into it as a distraction...? Where There's A Will, There's A...? The Life and Dreaming Planes have been merged, and sometimes what start out as wishful thinking becomes lured into reality. That slick new motorcycle or pile of kingly treasure you were just daydreaming about? Surprise! Though it may only stay for a short while before it disappears again, so make it count. Hopefully you're not the type to daydream about terrible things befalling people you don't like... SECRET UNDERCOVER MODE ACTIVATE! The three major kedan families all have their own agendas, and you've chosen to entangle yourselves with one (or more!) of them. Are you hoping to shift the balance of power? Gain some favours? Perhaps you're on a mission to bring a criminal to justice, or maybe you just want to get the cream of the crop from the black market. WILDCARD! Go nuts. Suddenly your character is fighting dragons! Good God, they've found the Millennium Falcon drifting in the ocean! Do you really feel the need to polish every paving stone in the Earth Sector? Please note, Wildcard options can also be what you can choose to do if you aren't yet comfortable in the Tu Shanshu setting, and would prefer a more 'dear-mun'-esque experience. Please specify in your post!

Comments

Daud | Dishonored | Brand new muse, please be gentle

[regregicide]

A: Water Sector: Fancy a swim?

Daud knew something was wrong even before his head broke the surface of the water. Where before he'd been skimming over the tops of weeds and rocks, his path dogged by a hagfish in close pursuit, he was now sure he could see bright white tiles gleaming underneath him.

The strangest thing, though, was after he swam to the surface and stopped. Nothing nibbled at his heels or streaked with sharp teeth towards his leg.

For a minute, Daud didn't move; he just bobbed in the water, watching the buildings lining the canal. None of them looked familiar. None of them even looked real.

B: Earth Sector: How about a climb?

It's early evening, and Daud is sitting crouched on a rooftop overlooking the street below. He's hard to see from down below, but he makes absolutely no effort to hide from anyone above street level - it's easy to spot him just by standing on a balcony opposite. His red coat almost gleams in the half-light.

He looks like a man watching with purpose, but he's been crouching on this rooftop for hours now, and still hasn't moved. One might almost think he was a statue, if he didn't occasionally shift his weight from one leg to the other.

I'll go rough AND YOU'LL LIKE IT j/k ilu

[problematical]

Someone's peeking over the edge of the canal's wall, her expression both playful and somehow distant. "You're not where you're supposed to be. None of us are. You shouldn't try to be a mermaid. You've got all the wrong parts."

B

[purered]

Klaus was busy getting the lay of the land, and what better way to do that from the rooftops? Klaus liked to be prepared for when things would, inevitably, go tits up. He didn't know how they would go tits up, or when- just that it was something that frequently happened wherever he went. Having a birds eye view of the city, and making note of strategic areas to hold and choke points couldn't hurt.

And then, just a building away he spotted the silhouette of a man, his back to him, crouched like some kind of gargoyle. Klaus could move quietly for a man of seven feet and pushing three-hundred pounds. He kept his footfalls noisy as he approached, however, signaling his proximity with a wave and a greeting.

"Good evening."

Melek Angevine | oc | dusting off the vampire

[byinbitation]

A; any sector;

Introducing: a man perplexed by a coin.

He's exceptionally still, save for his hands, which are turning a juulan over and over, occasionally holding it up to the sun to confirm that yes, it does have a hole through the middle. The first person to get close enough to him, however, is going to receive a sudden snap of focus to them, accompanied by a thoroughly affronted look. "Your coinage has holes in it."

Because that's the thing to focus on when you've just been transported to a new world.

B; water sector;

Hunger's making him bad-tempered. More so than average. Melek knew this was going to happen eventually, when he'd first grasped the odd confines of this situation, but he had forgotten, a little, what it was to be this hungry. A gnawing at the inside of his bones, the staggering awareness of just how much life was in even a tiny city.

Fortunately for him, the first thing he'd learned was control. After a fashion. There would be no ripping of throats and savage rending of breasts, but neither was he trying to be subtle in the way he watched passersby from his fountain-edge perch, always tracking the nearest one with sharp eyes. Anyone with half an observation instinct would notice something off about him, from the too-still posture to the clenched jaw to the ever-flickering eyes; anyone who brushed too close would promptly find themselves hissed at, a distinctly inhuman sound.

A because B would lead to bad things ;)

[edgeoftheknife]

The boy--man? no, boy, definitely boy--has the obvious look of a Foreigner, and from the sound of it he's still fresh off the boat, so to speak. It's an odd detail to fixate on, but Ravel knows all too well the strange little things the mind tends to fixate on when it's been thrown so far out of its element.

"Not done much travelling, have you?" he asks blithely, looking back at his shopping list. Anton had kicked him out of the Hotel to get some shopping done. Ravel wasn't really sure if that meant he'd been deposed, given that he'd staged a coup to overtake the Hotel, but at this point he didn't much care anymore. Anton was mending and that meant Ravel was in a good mood.

"Greece, Hungary, Japan, East Africa, India... Spain before they changed over to the Euro." He shot the boy an amused look. "Granted, some of these were a few decades ago, so you wouldn't remember them anyway. And I suppose that's entirely dependent on whether you're from some version of Earth."

B because this can only end well

[purered]

Klaus was out doing a bit of shopping and job hunting. He had an armful of groceries and in his other hand, a bag with some essentials he'd forgotten to get on his first day. He'd stopped when what appeared to be a young man had an outburst of hissing. A normal person would have probably ignored it, maybe quickened pace, chalked it up to some minor insanity or performance art. Klaus didn't quite live in the normal world, however. Probably on account of being so damned tall. He could only really look down on it from his upper slopes, curious about the lives of those who couldn't reach the higher shelves of kitchen cabinets.

He took in the young man's appearance. His posture was rigid, and he could see the muscles straining in his throat, like a starved dog trying not to go in for the kill. Red flags were immediately up.

"Are you quite alright, sir?"

B

[confirmationbias]

Sonja made a habit of observing people. You didn't really have to be when someone made a habit of hissing at people, though. As she passed, she took a gaze at him. Posture was all weird. She walked past him a distance and then took a seat on a bench next to the canal and pulled out her phone. She zoomed in on him, snapping a few pictures.

Was he casing a place for some devious activity? Maybe he was a new foreigner out of his element? If the latter she should probably go talk to him, seeing as how she was an official employee (volunteer?) at the welcome center, but that sounded harder and less fun than just sitting down watching him.

Maybe she'd decide to go over... eventually.

Irvine Kinneas; Final Fantasy 8;

[reconjunction]

A: Any sector

[The buildings and street fade up from white blankness like a staticky connection--at first in black and white, then in colour, then with sound. It's not the place he meant to be. Nowhere near. Wait, what is this? Is this real or some trick of the sorceress?

[No, she's dead, they beat her.]

Sefie!

[Irvine's heart pounds as he scans the area, walking long-legged down the street with his coat flapping behind him and his hat shading his face. Most of the people on the street are humanoid, but some of them have ... things, scales and wings and horns. Monsters? Some new ... junction? Is this the sorceress's endgame, in case she lost, just shoving them into some space filled with monsters crossed with people, as if that would stop them from fighting back?

[One of them comes at him and Irvine's shotgun jerks up, and they back away instead. Yeah, you stay back. He'll damn well shoot if you get too close, mutant freakazoid.]

Quisty! Zell! Squall--Rinoa?

[The crowd's faces blend together as he walks, calling out every now and then, jerking away from anyone who gets too close. His wrist is practically spring-loaded with the way his shotgun keeps jerking up defensively. His knees are shaking. Damn it. How long has he been walking? He can't tell. He managed to heal himself, but he's been on a hair-trigger for days. They all have.

[Hours. It could have been hours, and he hasn't even found the other end of this place. And none of the others have answered.]

SEFIE!

[inkulcation]

[So, an armed young man looking pale and twitchy and calling out names that don't answer. Newcomer is the obvious conclusion. And, predictably, there's no one else even approaching useful in the immediate vicinity.]

[Which means that if she doesn't want someone getting shot in the streets and an inevitable diplomatic incident that someone will have to smooth over, China should likely do something helpful. Ordinarily, that would constitute a magical shove, but she's also on a crowded street and has a fondness for not getting swarmed.]

[Instead she moves into his path, a few feet ahead so he has time to see her coming, and smiles at him.]

There are easier ways than yelling to find someone.

[zellousfists]

[Irvine isn't the only one more than a little disorientated. For Zell, things had just been settling down in the aftermath of all that had happened and his initial thought is that this is the craziest food hangover ever.

Except that he's pretty sure food hangovers shouldn't have any sort of bearing on the fact that he can feel something isn't quite right here. That he's missing something he's too accustomed to being aware of and with a clear gap between being at the party and waking up in an unfamiliar street.

He's pretty sure he can't blame this one on the GFs, especially when he can't tap into them right now. Between that and the solid band peeking above his gloves, he doesn't dare think too hard on what this could mean.

He knows he shouldn't freak out. There's part of him that wants to anyway.

It's strange that he's not the one making a scene for once, but this time he's glad of it; there's no mistaking the voice he hears calling for him and while he can't say this is an ideal outcome it's still better than being here alone. And so he steps up, hands raised because getting shot really isn't on his list of things to do today.]

Well, looks like I get to save my voice for a change. You figured out where the hell we are yet?

[Because if not, that's next on Zell's agenda.]

Z!

[regregicide]

[They could only be the names of other people, though they sound more like nonsense words strung together.

Daud watches the newcomer with the gun for a few blocks, following along hidden in the shadows above. Then he drops down onto the street and walks into view, deliberately making himself obvious to avoid a startled gunshot. He walks slowly. Non-threateningly. The only thing he doesn't do is put his hands in the air; he's never done that, and never will.]

She's gone.

[There's only one reason a man under strain would repeat the same name more than once. Odds are, she's a woman.]

And you're terrorising half the city.

Zell Dincht | Final Fantasy VIII

[zellousfists]

A; Arrival; any district

[One minute, he's celebrating with his friends and comrades, basking in the glory of having saved the world. The next he knows, he's waking in the middle of a street, groggy and feeling like there's a little too much that isn't quite right, though he can't quite put his finger on what, yet.

It's taking all he has not to panic, especially once he starts to realise that there are more than just humans around here - and is that someone with blue and purple striped skin? Is that a tail he seeks poking beneath an otherwise normal-seeming woman's skirt?

Something's not right. Everything's not right, now he has time to think and time to realise why he hasn't felt quite right, to remember his time at D-District prison and recognise the limitations placed on him. And that has him all the more tense, even as he's struggling to keep hold of what composure he can find.

It's not long before he's walking the streets, looking for answers and expression somewhere between bewildered and a short push away from exploding. Inevitably, the calm doesn't last and when he notices someone staring at him a little too much - maybe it's the tattoo, or his demeanour overall, or simply the fact he's a new face around these parts - he can't help but snap.]

What do you want?

B; Big heart, big mouth, big trouble; fire sector

[Zell doesn't fit into this part of wherever it is he is now. He knows it, but now he's had time to settle down and gather his wits - and now that whatever had been sealing his junctions seems to have passed - his curiosity is getting the better of him and he's making a point of exploring. And with the constant stares and sneers aimed at him from the main streets, he decides a quieter route would be for the better.

And that's when he spots a young woman with scaled skin, dressed in tattered clothing and beseeching anyone who passes to spare some juulan. And for all he doesn't have much himself, Zell can't bring himself to pass her by without letting a coin or two drop into her cup.

Which is apparently the cue someone had been waiting for. Next thing he knows, there are three men (he thinks - hard to tell for sure while he's still getting a feel for the population) closing on him, declaring that if he has coin to spare then he must be good for more and they're more than happy to part him from it.

The sounds of the ensuing fight travel long beyond where it's actually happening, and certain flashes can be seen here and there as Zell figures there's no point in fighting fair when he's already outnumbered. Or perhaps it's afterwards that he's seen, staggering out looking a little banged up but triumphant none the less. And offering anyone who looks at him for long enough a high five even with knuckles grazed and swollen.]

Won't make that mistake again.

[Whether he means himself or those who'd attacked him, or both, probably needs a little more context than he's providing.]

C; Can't keep away from the machines; metal sector

[There's nothing he can afford here, yet, but there's no question to Zell's mind that he'll be spending a lot of time in this sector, now he's found it. The tinkerer in him can't help but be fascinated by what unfamiliar technology there is to be seen, but it's the motorcycles and other vehicles that have his attention above all.]

Man. How cool would it be to take a spin on that baby?

[His comment doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular and nor does he seem to expect a reply, though he certainly won't turn one down.

Elsewhere, he finds himself under much closer scrutiny after one too many instances of him picking something up and examining it with an eagerness that suggests he might crack it open right here to see how it works. Enough so that even he notices the icy glare levelled at him as his hand hovers over a music player, stepping back without a word. And potentially stepping into someone else in the process, which prompts an immediate apology and check to ensure said someone isn't hurt.]

A!

[edgeoftheknife]

[The stare wasn't malicious, Zell, though of course he wouldn't know that.

Erskine doesn't get out into the city much. Usually he's holed up in the Midnight Hotel, for a plethora of reasons, but today's shopping trip had been unavoidable by virtue of the fact that he simply hadn't been able to find anyone to bribe into doing it for him. He's nearly done by this point, with a cloth shopping bag slung over one shoulder, when he spots the obvious Foreigner. The obvious new Foreigner.

The man who'd been staring at Zell is relatively normal looking. No spikes. No tail. There's the fact that he's in a three-piece suit and is almost unnaturally beautiful, but Erskine is obviously another Foreigner, not a kedan.

He recoils a little at the snap from the blond boy.]

Well I was going to ask if you need any help, but obviously you've got things well in hand.

[He's got an Irish accent, though Zell might not recognize it. And yes, that's a generous helping of sarcasm.]

Have you at least been to the Welcome Center?

C;

[skeletonenigma]

[When Zell steps back without a word, he manages to step right into Skulduggery. That's an impressive feat in and of itself, given how unnaturally thin Skulduggery is. But it happens anyway. And apart from a new scuff mark on one of Skulduggery's shoes, he's pretty certain he'll live.]

It's alright. I've knocked into far worse, believe me.

[There's nothing strange about the suit, apart from the fact that it's custom tailored and still manages to hang oddly off of Skulduggery's shoulder blades. Likewise, there's nothing strange about his gloves, other than his apparently choosing to wear them in relatively warm weather.

His head, however, is a blank skull with a hat on top of it, tilted slightly to the side.]

You're not a kedan. Are you new?

B!

[shroudofgray]

The sounds of fighting drew Yorda out of a doze. Prying aside the sheet she'd gotten off a clothesline, she sat up on the bench and looked towards the source of the commotion. A group of strangers were attacking one man, though it seemed to her they were outmatched.

It wasn't a long fight, and Yorda watched, utterly astonished. This was like nothing she had ever seen before. Granted, you could fill volumes on things she hadn't seen before, but that wasn't the point. It was strange.

Drawing the sheet around her like a cowl, she stepped over the prone, groaning, and semi-conscious gang members as she followed the blond man out. How had he done those strange lights? Was he a sorcerer of some kind? Her mind was buzzing with questions. She was about to tug on his sleeve to ask when he rounded on her, grinning triumphantly and his hand raised. She recoiled quickly, as though she thought she were about to be struck.

Geo Stelar | Mega Man Star Force 3 | Option 5; Sky Sector

[ryuuseinorock]

[There's a boy standing in the middle of the street in the Sky Sector, looking around with a mix of awe on his face.

This boy's name is Geo Stelar, and the last thing he remembers was facing down the Crimson Dragon in the depths of Meteor G, trying to stop Dealer's plan to use the powerful ball of EM Noise to take control of the world.]

Hey, kid!

[A voice comes from a terminal on Geo's right arm, but he doesn't seem to acknowledge it. He seems too lost in staring at his surroundings.]

Roooaaaarrr!!! Quit ignorin' me!

Hm? [He looks down, eventually, raising his arm.] Mega? Sorry... I...

Yeah, don't worry about it, kid. Looks like our Wave Change was cancelled.

Yeah... and we're not in Meteor G anymore... Where... are we?

I don't know... but check your Visualizer. Something you should probably see.

Oh. Okay. [Geo pulls down the visor resting on his forehead and looks around...]

W-What?! The Wave Road...! [He looks back down at his terminal.] Did we... fail to stop Meteor G?

I don't think so. I'm not detecting any Noise, either. Go find a quiet spot, kid. That Joker Program will be able to tell for certain.

Right.

[And, with that, Geo's going to go running off to find an isolated spot.]

((OOC: Feel free to stop him, or tail him when responding.))

[shroudofgray]

[Isolated spots are Yorda's bread and butter. The noise of the city is often a bit much for her oversized ears and years of solitude. So she's a little startled when a person comes running up the hill. She has no time to make a break for it, so she freezes, rather resembling a deer in headlights.]

...Who are you?

[Eloquent. At least she managed not to stammer.]

Stuart Bayldon | Sirens UK | Option 1; Fire Sector

[fuckinghateadrenaline]

[There's a man, dressed in green, wearing a green fleece top with the word "Ambulance" embroidered into the back, who is currently kicking up a fuss with one of the stallkeepers in the fire sector.

And he's not letting the subject go.]

No, you don't fucking get it. [Comes a very irritated tone.] That... [Pointing at a green backpack.] ...Is mine. It even has my fucking name on it. See? [And he jabs his chest, where, sure enough, his name is stitched there in gold; "Stuart Bayldon."

The kedan managing the store continues to make the excuse that it's finders-keepers, and Stuart cuts across him.]

Now, you bloody listen here, alright? I'm not fucking leaving until I've got that Trauma kit back. And I'm not paying for it, before you get any fucking smart ideas. It's mine. It has my name on it. I paid for it myself, because like fuck were they going to replace it themselves, so you can either hand it over, or I start making things very fucking awkward for you, mate.

[immortalsigil]

[ There's someone else in green sitting nearby, but her shade is a little more personal. ]

You're going about it all wrong.

Yorda | ICO

[shroudofgray]

A for arrival on the shoreline

Yorda awoke to the sound of the ocean, half-drowned, barely alive. Her hair was matted with sand and bits of seaweed clung to her. She didn't move much for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness. Whatever strength she had found carrying Ico from the crumbling castle had been utterly spent. But she was alive.

It was her last act of defiance, years and years of cages and obedience, and she had defied the last will of her mother. She had saved Ico. And she had saved herself.

Her fingers curled and uncurled, her gray eyes fixed with fascination on the small movements. Feeling gradually returned to her body and her face, so often impassive like a porcelain doll, contorted into a cringe.

Pain. She felt pain.

It was, she reflected, an odd feeling. Unpleasant. Whatever horrors she'd endured in the castle, she had never been physically injured. After all, what good would she be as a vessel if her body was damaged?

She sat up slowly, the waves lapping against her thin legs. She was tall for her age, which must have been around fourteen or fifteen, gangly, and blade slim. There was a certain quality of atrophy to her physique. But the strange thing about Yorda (at least at a glance), was her unearthly palour. She didn't quite glow. Rather, she seemed to repel shadows. They slid off her like water from a duck, and her features had little definition. She stood out like a bad special effect.

Yorda got shakily to her feet. Ico was surely nearby. She searched for any sign of the small, wooden boat. Stumbling a bit (it was her first time walking in sand), she set out to find her friend, calling his name, hoping against hope they weren't separated for good.


B for birds

Yorda's explorations were slow-going. She had never seen a city before and now she was overwhelmed.

The noise, the smells, the colours and everything. It blurred together, chaotic and terrific and so utterly alien. Yorda was used to the silence of the castle, dead and heavy, weighing on her mind. It was only ever broken by the echo of one of the panicked sacrifices crying for someone to save them from their slow death in the tombs.

But now the world was light and sound and voices. So many voices! Her head could not turn fast enough to see everything as she padded through the streets on bare feet. Eventually it became too much and she ducked down an alleyway. Yorda was fascinated. Clothes hung from lines attached to windows, there were small gardens in the limited plots of land. She got startled and scurried deeper into the shadows when a dog barked at her. Never had she seen such a creature!

It was quieter now, and she leaned against a wall to catch her breath.

And then she saw them- a whole flock of pigeons. Slowly, she approached, hand extended. When she was no more than a yard away, they startled and fluttered off.

Inquisitor Lavellan ❧ Dragon Age: Inquisition

[lavellout]

a; console network

[Look, she might be medieval, but she's not stupid. She can figure out how to work this thing. In fact, she's picked it up rather quickly with help from the welcome center, along with a few other...miscellaneous tidbits of information.]

I heard a rumor that a foreign force is paying us a visit within the month, under the pretense— [Please pay attention to how she stresses that word.] —of recapturing one of their own. One of their own who, as I understand it, attempted to stage a coup here not so long ago.

And we're...letting the Grand Justicar of the same order march a small army in here, with only her word she's not simply bringing reinforcements.

...Who gave them permission to do that? And why?

[She may not have an army or a title here, but she's been 'round this block a few times. It generally Does Not Go Well.]

It's no business of mine, of course. [kermitdrinkingtea.jpg] But while we're at it, maybe we should roll out the tea and frilly cakes for their arrival? Never do things by halves, I say.

b; just outside the walls, probably in a cornfield or something tbh crop circles incoming

[She's experimenting. For the sake of not stirring up a fuss, she's doing it in a field just outside the city walls, where hopefully no one will notice anything funny going on.

The magic still works, she'd already tried that, though it has a certain...feel...like the thing that lets her unravel the fabric of reality is further away than it's ever been in her life. So does the mark still work? And can she—if she's crazy enough to try it, which she's not entirely sure she is—use it to access the Fade and, subsequently, home?

The answer to that is, apparently, no. She's not sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

It's a reckless experiment, but she's taking care not to attract any attention from either side of reality. She only opens small ones, like she does in a fight, not big enough to let anything through but still enough for that same relentless pull she's weaponized time and again. She's flattened half the wheat in a ten foot radius around her, golden grain stalks bent and broken inward toward a central rift.

She can open them, but what she finds is she can't pass through them. Well, she can—in fact, she walks right through one, feels the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and the hum of energy and hiss of things beyond around her—but she doesn't go anywhere. She comes out on the other side in the same field she started in. May as well not have been a rift there at all.

She plants her staff on the ground and leans on it, chewing the inside of her lip, puzzled.]

Well, damn.

b - holy shit a lavellan 8D

[shroudofgray]

[She had not been far when she felt the change in the air. A buzzing that set her teeth on edge. Yorda had been exploring the wooded area around a wheat field, trying to follow the little deer trails through brambles and nettles.

The sounds were strange, like the crack of thunder ripping through the sky. There were strange harmonics to it, and a feeling of both familiar and alien. Something was opening. Turning on her heel, she scurried clumsily through the undergrowth to come see what the disturbance was.

Magic. It was magic. Magic that had opened the way between places.

She knew such a thing could be possible, but she had never expected to see it. Her own magic was similar, but it reacted on its own to seals and things that were hidden. Nothing of this scale.

When the woman emerged from the gaping green hole in the air, Yorda untangled her dress from a thorn bush and slowly approached.

She did not miss the ears. How similar to her own, she thought. Perhaps there was someone who was like her? Perhaps she was not so alone as she thought?]

How is it done?

Peridot | Steven Universe | yes it's Alex again with another shitlord cartoon villain in green specs

[peridiot]

1.

"Simply ridiculous," Peridot sniffs, looking down her nose at the kedan shopkeep (no small feat, either, since the shopkeep's six inches taller than her...from the top of her hair). "I will not give you five of these...juulan," she says, trying out the foreign word with some disdain, "for that piece of scrap. Three will be sufficient."

5.

Outside of the city, in the dead of night, Peridot is working busily with the scrap she's bought and stolen (mostly stolen) to make a communications tower for Homeworld. There isn't any old Gem tech to base things off of like there was on Earth, but she knows she can do it, because she's the best. As she works, she's talking - almost to herself, it seems, but she's actually recording a log.

"Still stuck here on this miserable planet. Preliminary scans confirm that these...kedan people have told the truth about this civilization being on the back of a massive animal. No sign of the escaped informant or any of those Crystal Clods or that Steven."

5

[ryuuseinorock]

Sorry, Peridot, but your little late-night engineering project is about to get gate-crashed.

Geo Stelar is outside of the city, mostly to see the stars in this new world, when the noise attracts him. Walking closer, using a light on his Hunter-VG held in his right hand, Geo comes across the in-construction tower.

He stares, shining the light up to get a better view at what this is.

"Woah."

Plutia | Hyperdimension Neptunia

[speakslowly]

Oh nooo... I think Neppy got lost again...

[ There's a young girl wandering about, who looks around fifteen years old. She seems to be in clothes more becoming of pajamas, slippers, and is carrying around a large doll by its leg. Her gait is rather aimless and her hair looks a bit wild despite being all in one big braid behind her back.

She walks in the streets and eventually stops right in the middle to speak aloud to herself. Slowly, and kind of sleepy. She doesn't seem to be in a rush at all. ]

Or maaaybe she just disappeared. Oh well, I guess I'll have to go fiiind her...! Ready or not, Neppy...? Here I coooome!

[ She smiles, ready to continue on, except... ]

Wait a minute. If Neppy isn't here, and Noire isn't here... and I don't know where here is... could it be that I'm the one who's lost...?! Oh noooo... how did that happen...?