Test Drive Meme | #35

[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 starts out as wishful thinking becomes lured into reality. That slick new motorcycle or pile of kingly treasure you were just daydreaming about? Surprise! It's just appeared in front of you. 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. Maybe you haven't been hired by them at all, but are using their name for your own goals... as long as no one discovers the lie! Wait... you want my what now?! The kedan are a curious folk, and the Foreigners are entertainment in conveniently arriving packages, especially when they come along with unique items that the kedan might not have seen before. Maybe it's your cellphone... or maybe it's your knickers! How badly do you want to keep your stuff from some overeager native shapeshifters who want to buy, bribe, or burglarize it right off your person? Sea prunes, get your sea prunes right here! Life in Keeliai can take a little getting used to: the chickens have scales, the cows have feathers, and the fruits come in more colour and pattern combinations than your average tye-dye shirt. Not to mention that meal you just ordered from the food vendor? Has arrived on the plate, and you're pretty sure you just saw it move. Everybody needs a little darkness... The Great Enemy may have been defeated over two years ago, and people are even willing to speak Malicant's name aloud now, but there remains a taint in the city never fully purged. Those who consider Malicant a dark god whose end was unjust are the cultists of Keeliai, and they aren't always so easy to identify as one might think. Sometimes their presence is felt in the growing urge to give into one's darker instincts, especially in such a foreign place... Illicit substances, anyone? Every city has its vices, and Keeliai is no different. Perhaps you actively sought it out, or perhaps an opportunistic dealer saw you as a potential customer needing a free sample, but you're now in possession of a packet of Lucid, an emotion-enhancing drug. Interested in finding out what happens when you crush that colourful crystal and ingest it? Incoming! Tu Vishan's latest landfall stop has brought an unwelcome problem to its residents: enormous, toothy creatures who look more like pterosaurs than most people are comfortable with! With a twenty-foot wingspan, these aren't exactly harmless local wildlife, and they have a nasty habit of swooping down on targets both Foreigner and kedan! How are you going to fend them off, or help someone who might have been injured by the latest dive bombing?? 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? Anything goes!

Comments

[handonheart]

That was... unhelpful.

For all of Fenris's unfortunate experience with magic and demons, particularly after meeting Hawke, he didn't know how often demons were straightforward about what they were, and how often they continued a charade without a reason. Both were equally possible, he supposed. He'd been caught out once by a demon knowing full-well what it was.

"If it does, I don't know it," he answered. "If I'm to believe you're not a demon, how do you explain that?"

He nodded towards the six bottles of Tevinter wine, as though he could possibly be referring to anything else.

[hellboundheart]

John, on the other, had eyes for nothing but the paper. Making what seemed like a few stray marks of with the red pencil on the paper, John folded it away and dropped it into the brown doctor's bag at his feet.

"Brilliant. I love it. This place is fascinating, you know. Love to meet the person who made it. Had to take him decades to get those right," John said, his tone that of a man who is used to talking to himself or trying to fast-talk his way past those in Authority. "The neutrality of it all alone is ideal for a hotel, but I'm guessing it's still ultimately locked to the owner or caster."

The idea of changing anything in the hotel itself had been quickly discarded by John. While he was considering buying a looking glass from the marketplace, he'd only thrown a sheet over the one belonging to the hotel. Constantine was many things but not a poor guest in a place where power rippled through everything. Never hurt to be on the good side of things in the event of demon attack.

Putting out his cigarette (with the full intention of lighting another as soon as Agent K was out of range) John looked up at the man. John could try charming. He supposed.

"What is it with this fog though, mate? Went to open a window this morning, and I thought I was going to end up chained to the boiler in a bad horror movie."

[mewnifestos]

[ Anders' awkward fluster subsides, somewhat, as he watches a handful of the overzealous sort-of felines peel off from the pack and glom onto Hawke (see? it really is that easy).

He's still not sure how he feels about Hawke just naturally assuming it would be him under a pile of cats. It could have been anyone, honestly. But that's beside the point.

And he forgets entirely to be offended by that in favor of being offended by Hawke discarding his meal in his general direction, anyway. That whatever-it-is looks ready to wiggle off the stick, even with a few bites taken out of it - and Anders makes an indignant noise that comes out sounding sort of like Hawke!

...Of course, the cats are just as fast to snatch up their new prey, and a small swarm of them quickly subsume the treat. Anders extracts himself from the pile, anyway, another leaping to cling to his shoulders as he stands. He dusts himself off almost primly without dislodging the one in his arms. ]

They're not going to eat anyone. They're sweet. [ Even the ugly ones with spindly legs!! ] ...And I'm still not entirely sure whether they're strictly real or not, either way.

[gistful]

"Thank you," said Anton agreeably, because that was a compliment in there, buried under all the evasion. "It did take some decades. The fog is made of ocean water comprising of a salt which has a nullifying effect on magic and technology."

Constantine may have noticed some fluctuations in the wards--which would be why Anton hadn't been on the desk lately. Taking note of the wards and fixing them was a constant job. There were fewer instances of damage now than there had been when the fog started at least; a network of loopholes which caused damage to wards to fizzle without breaking those beside the damaged sigils.

Anton also noted that Constantine did not, in fact, register his understanding. Putting out this cigarette didn't indicate an acceptance of not lighting up in future. "I should also note," he added blandly, "that if you are caught smoking inside in future, it would constitute a willing health hazard to my other patrons and grounds for immediate removal from the premises."

A few people had tried that, back home, when smoking was new and interesting. No matter how careful they were about smoking only in their rooms, he could tell. Smoke clung, and sheets, rooms, furniture were reused from person to person.

[handonheart]

"Aren't we?" asked Fenris with a frown, unmindful of what was going through Hawke's head. He gave the market around them a second look. It was busy. People were everywhere, some familiar, others far from it. Nearly every merchant had tried to get his attention, and none of them had turned out to be malicious, let alone demons.

"It was emptier than this before," Fenris admitted. There was something else, too - a pervasive sense of life. The Chantry claimed demons couldn't imitate life. In Fenris's limited experience, that was all too true.

"If not the Fade, then where are we?" Fenris gestured towards the wine on the table. "And what are some of Danarius's finest spirits doing here?"

[hellboundheart]

Mr Funeral Director had jumped up in John's estimation whether he knew it or not, whether he cared or not. So this was the man responsible. Some of the casual arrogance of John's posture bled out but not much. Submission was a skill he had never learned well.

"Makes one wonder what called for these measure in the first place although I'm getting an idea," he murmured, shifting the papers on his lap to a semblance of order. A passing comment, little more. Certainly not one he expected an answer to. The last of it? That was a different story.

"Oh come on. You'd kick me out just for lighting up? Ain't it bad enough that you tell us we can't drink? No smoking either? I can keep it to my room but not at all? Got to be some trade we can make."

'Trade' was often a dangerous word in John's world, but he had little desire to leave the Midnight Hotel. Papa Midnite himself wouldn't be able to storm these gates, and John didn't have the time or resources that Jasper did to construct another Mill.

"I'll open a window. Clean the things myself. No one will catch a whiff."

No one non-magical, of course. The smoke in his clothing threw off those seeking his scent, kept him hidden. It was a mask John would prefer not to let go.

[ruinsprofessor]

Raine's had cooler reactions to her presence, though uncommonly. She doesn't know what to make of his chilliness at first, but then again-- even if he's from another world, he is an elf. She wouldn't be surprised if he's reacting to the nature of her mana. Disappointed, but not surprised. Her shoulders lift a little, set.

And yet he softens just as quickly, it seems. Raine takes a moment to study him -- the pale lines of his tattoos, the skeletal structure that's almost as clear a marker of his difference as his ears. Her head tilts to the side a little, though she doesn't relax. She doesn't know what to make of him.

"Of course," she says, finally. "As long as you're all right."

It's possible, of course, he's hiding an injury for some misplaced sense of pride or strength, but something about his demurral makes Raine disinclined to suspect that. "Hm," Raine says, and, "How long have you been in Keeliai?" It couldn't be very long at all, or surely she would have noticed him.

[gistful]

"War," Anton said simply, answering that question to which Constantine hadn't expected the answer, because answering the question at least gave Anton the opportunity to mull over the counter-offer. Also, the second reference to drinking. That did make Anton wonder what was in that glass. "After it was over, I was tired of being a weapon. Defending the Hotel is less murky than killing people on a battlefield."

Constantine was in a room alone, so there were no room-mates for him to bother with the smoke. And it was possible for Anton to leave aside a set of linens, if Constantine was willing to change and clean them himself. When Constantine left the room would require a deep-clean--and probably Erskine and Skulduggery's help, to work the smoke out of the surroundings--but it was a potential compromise.

"You carry whiffs on your own person," Anton observed, "and I note that you aren't particularly good at keeping to the prohibition rule, either." It was a prod, not an accusation. Half a bluff to see if Anton was right about the glass, half a casual warning that very little happened in the Hotel without Anton noticing. "What's stopping you from smoking outside the Hotel?"

Just because Anton was willing to compromise didn't mean he would, right away. It was worth seeing Constantine's reaction, at least. He was a debaucher, but aware enough to recognise the Hotel had wards. Apparently full of vices, but willing to do his own laundry. He was ... interesting.

[hellboundheart]

"War."

John only repeated that word, gave no further thoughts or explanations. He'd seen his share and mulling over old stories wasn't something he did. It gave him a starting place if he wanted more information later. Information always had a price, and he wasn't sure he'd like Anton's if he pressed for more.

In for a penny, in for a pound, or so Constantine believed. A man who could construct something like this hotel wasn't someone he could afford to be on the outs with on things that meant damned little. Any demon or enemy that might come looking for him would know John drank and smoked. Little use to hide those from his dark hotel proprietor.

"Human, mate. I like to drink and smoke while I work. Every man needs his distractions."

While not fully admitting, John did allude to the fact that his 'tea' was not that. Respect in a way and not belittling Anton's knowledge with a useless denial. Which was better than admitting he purposely disguised his scent with bitter herbs, smoke and alcohol sweat. Hard to hunt a man who reeked of scents that stung the nose.

Vices came in spades to the damned like John Constantine even when he dealt with powers he couldn't define.

"Not a whiff. Got a spell or two just for that since it seems your hotel won't be lashing out at me for doing a little work."

[drinkuntilidie]

"Ya be kiddin' mon? Look at me. I be the very picture of perfect health." As if to show it off Kevas flexed his arms and even posed a little. Then he grabbed another of the strange morsels of food and popped it into his mouth. Honestly he ate stranger looking things in the past just to survive. At least these things appeared to be cooked.

"I mean ya be da one dat looks like ya ain't seen da sun in a decade or so." Pitch's bad attitude went largely ignored by the troll.

[ten_zero]

Wearing a warframe wasn't like wearing a suit; there was something more to it, something indiscernible. Many people talk about how their cars might have a personality, but there was something more when piloting a warframe. It had a presence. Through transference, Bisi didn't control Frost, she communed with it.

It was amazing to be strong, to be big, to be whole again. Bisi was never fully comfortable except when she was comfortably tucked inside a warframe. And it was refreshing to suddenly see chaos break out. Peace rested uncomfortably on her shoulders; her place was to guard, to protect, to defend. Her warframe jumped into action, sweeping into the street in front of the deer and started to channel her power through it. Frost converted her raw void power into icey energy, which he released in a massive ephemeral globe that enveloped the street. Kirin that swept through the border were immediately slowed, as if running through a time rift. Snow and ice collected on their skin until they found themselves completely encased in ice.

[drinkuntilidie]

If her initial reaction to his appearance bothered him any Kevas didn't show it. When you had tusks coming out of your face and stood over seven feet tall you got used to people thinking you were scary. Then again, Kevas normally liked it when people thought he was scary.

"Oh I know I didn't, but ya see I kinda have dis weakness for a cute face." His smile turned a little more playful.

"Plus I really wanted to scare da crap outta dat mon," he continued, not caring in slightest if he offended the shopkeeper.

Sea Prunes

[ten_zero]

"That was very nice," Bisi said, noticing Inara's impromptu act of charity. She rolled closer in her wheelchair, built custom for her here in Keeliai, after her arrival. It was a bit of a struggle to get the strength to move it, but she managed.

"Do you have many juulen that you can afford to give like that?"

[helluvachin]

Man on woman doesn't matter. When you take too many unneeded chances they catch up.

[He should just stop talking. Even if she's being polite it looks like she doesn't want his advice.]

I'm sorry I said anything. Just nevermind me.

10

[ten_zero]

Bisi was not a Kedan child - she was arguably not a child at all, but you wouldn't know it from looking at her, frail, sickly and scarred. Her outfit and the metal implants easily mark her for a foreigner, however.

Bisi leaned forward in her wheelchair to hear about this city.

[ten_zero]

Bisi signed nearby, watching the spectacle. If she had one of her Warframes, she could easily capture that creature. She felt so useless here.

A

[stabsbothways]

"Wow, jumpy, huh? Just because we've been plucked from our homes and shipped to ancestor's know where?" Isabela leaned against a nearby stall, having spotted Fenris a little while ago and having decided to follow him cuz that's not creepy or anything.

A

[ten_zero]

Bisi was not wealthy by any means; she had not a juulan to her name in fact. But upon arrival she had been directed to the Midnight Hotel, and under Anton's charity now had shelter and food. Far more than this girl had.

She rolled up to Bisi in her wheelchair, concerned. "Hello. Are you alright?"

[backwordscompatible]

I was when I first got here.

A thought she mostly kept to herself; over the years, it had become an experiential lesson that, whenever someone tried bringing up her age--particularly how young she was--they were trying to goad her. She wasn't about to let some new (old) guy have the satisfaction.

"Miser's Dream, actually. One of the first tricks my dad ever taught me, back when I was really little. Just a little less flourish in the lead-up." She raised and eyebrow at him, almost willing to forgive the age comment for that alone. "I'm impressed. Most people know the tricks, but not what they're called. Although...your mug and lighter can rest easy: those were real coins I gave them. Scout's honor."

Wait you want my what now?

[drinkuntilidie]

Kevas watched from a nearby vendor and barked with laughter. Markets were always filled with some kind of entertainment, usually at the expense of someone else, and this one proved no different. He almost admired their determination to pickpocket the pink-skin.

"Someone really be needin' to teach dese mons a thing or two. Can't even tell the difference between an easy mark and a complete trap." That said, he leaned against the stall not moving to help Constantine or the kedan. He wanted to see which one came out on top first.

Wait... you want my what now?!

[helluvachin]

These days Zachariah had real trouble talking to people, especially someone as pretty as Inara. He knew he was going to make a fool of himself somehow but someone needed to let her know she was being followed. So if no one else was going to do it then that someone had to be him.

Even as he approached her he already started to feel nervous. The large crowd certainly did little to help. When Zachariah actually reached her his throat felt dry and he realized he was just walking beside her without actually saying anything. That probably looked a little suspicious.

"Uh...there's a...um.." Zachariah stopped to swallow the sudden lump forming in his throat.

"There's someone following you." This time his words came out so fast it would be a miracle if she understood him.

Massive spoiler for the SP series incoming~

[edgeoftheknife]

The carpet sweeper froze, along with the rest of Erskine, at the voice. He didn't even have to look around to see if the voice was directed at him--they were the only two souls in the common room at the moment. Thankfully Erskine had more than enough practice holding magic whilst startled, or at least enough to keep one armchair aloft while the rest of him bordered on panic.

Talking to new people over the consoles wasn't so bad. He could usually manage to be his old charming, funny self over the network. Face to face... that was harder.

After a long pause he pulled the sweeper back out from under the chair and gently lowered the chair back, his hand lowering in midair along with it. When he turned to face the other man ((ooc: massive spoiler for this series, please don't read if this is a concern!)) his golden eyes became easily visible, all but shining in the firelight. Possibly lending a bit more credence to that demon theory....

"The staff," he said quietly, not quite looking directly at Constantine, in the way shy and nervous people have. "I'm the janitor of the Hotel." Now that he'd spoken a few more syllables, his Irish accent was unmistakable. For a moment longer he regarded the Englishman, the cigarette (Anton wouldn't like that), the glass that was clearly whiskey, the sheaf of papers. When he spoke again there was the barest hint of indignation in his tone.

"I don't do card tricks." Entertainment indeed.

5/6

[edgeoftheknife]

The little yellow spiky ones aren't so bad, really.

[The voice, in a lilting accent that Anders probably wouldn't recognize (Irish), comes from behind him. A second later and a hooded figure steps up beside him at the fruit stall, male, not quite six feet tall, wearing a jacket with the aforementioned hood pulled up. His hands are in his pockets and he regards the spread of fruit for a moment before turning his head just slightly toward Anders. His face, what little of it is visible under the hood, is beautiful, with unnaturally pretty eyes. He doesn't quite look at Anders, but moves his head just enough so that his voice can be heard more easily around the din of the marketplace.]

Stay away from the purple waxy ones, though. The ones that look like plums. They aren't. I'm pretty sure they weren't meant to be digested by humans.

[He pauses, and turns a little more toward Anders, considering.]

Assuming you're human, of course.

[mewnifestos]

[ At first blush, he almost thinks he can place that accent. It sounds a little like Starkhaven - but no, there's something distinctly off that marks it other, still, and the moment's brush with almost-familiarity fades before Anders can even open his mouth in reply.

But his guard slips a fraction, anyway, as he turns to get a better look at the stranger who's interrupted his thoughts. While, ordinarily, Anders wouldn't consider himself such a sucker for a pretty face, the comfortable familiarity of an attractive human one is a pleasant surprise, in its own right.

Putting back the bluish gourd he was inspecting with some marked skepticism, he turns a critical eye to the pointy, yellow offerings piled high on the cart - and then back to the stranger-not-from-Starkhaven, as he appears to be eyeing Anders in the same fashion. ]

Of course I'm human. What do I look like to you, a great talking nug? [ By comparison, probably. ]

[handonheart]

"Long enough to know attacks from these creatures aren't commonplace," Fenris answers. If there's a lingering hint of his earlier reticence, it's certainly not in his voice. "Long enough to know that the magic used here isn't the magic from my world, but not long enough for me to have seen that for myself."

It's an apology, essentially, or half of one. Fenris didn't miss the way she stiffened. Whether she's anything like the mages he knows remains to be seen.

Which isn't an excuse to avoid proper introductions. She hasn't tried to kill him yet; for Fenris, that might as well be a judge of character. "My apologies," he says, turning to face her properly and bowing his head once. "My name is Fenris."