test drive meme #1.

[seeingyou]

Hello, passengers and potential passengers!! Welcome to the first-ever eyemind Test Drive Meme. Here you have a chance to play around in the game's setting before deciding to app, test out new characters, or just roll around and have some fun. Enjoy!

No invite is necessary to play in the test drive, but please remember that eyemind is a (semi)private game and you must request an invitation before submitting an application. Request an invitation here!

Please note: Threads from the test drive meme DO NOT count toward AC and ARE NOT considered game canon, but you are welcome to use them for your app samples.

SCENARIO ONE: LIGHT UP THE NIGHT



The ship has stopped on Arion, near the settlement of Taunican, at the height of harvest season, and since the planet is largely agricultural, that means there is a big harvest festival a-happening.

What's neat about this festival is that it's not just a celebration of the harvest - it's a celebration of the community, and of the planet as a whole. The dominant local religion (for lack of a better term) isn't exactly experienced in term of worship but of honoring the planet itself - the seasons, the landscapes, the crops. Natives talk of Arion as if it is a living, breathing entity, because for them? Arion is.

Every evening while the ship is docked, there is a bonfire in the fields outside the town square, starting at dusk. There's a giant potluck feast, with everyone in attendance encouraged to bring dishes to share, but no one will be turned away if they arrive empty-handed. Fiddles and flutes and drums provide the soundtrack for the folk songs about Arion the locals sing around the fire; dancing and games and laughter are everywhere. This is a peaceful, joyous celebration, and you're invited!

SCENARIO TWO: WE NEED TO GO DEEPER



You're asleep, but maybe you don't know that - in the middle of a dream, it's not always easy to tell the difference between reality and the scenes your subconscious creates. You find yourself somewhere that may or may not be familiar, doing something that may be mundane or fantastical, but you're not alone. This is a dream you're sharing with your shipmates. What secrets and truths will you learn about each other?

SCENARIO THREE: STOP HITTING YOURSELF



Ope, looks like Navi’s wandered a little too close to an interdimensional rift in space-time, and now things are getting a little weird. If you happen to have superpowers, you may find that you don’t have quite as good of a hold on them as you do normally, or maybe now there are unintended side effects that occur when your powers are used. Maybe your character usually possesses enhanced strength or speed, and now they suddenly find themselves too swol to handle ordinary objects without crushing them, or they may have uncontrollable zooms and be physically unable to slow their roll.

No superpowers? No problem! Non-powered characters may find themselves deprived of one or more of their natural senses, i.e., sight, hearing, smell, taste, etc. Have fun being suddenly and temporarily blind! Walk into walls, eat trash, be free.

Comments

code geass - euphemia li britannia

[unfearing]

★ — light up the night

[ Well! It has been quite the adventure turning up in space so far from home, knowing no one and no one knowing her. (Besides that little unresolved issue of having spotted one Kururugi Suzaku in their introductory video, but that Euphie's working on that on the side.) After the initial disorientation, it's rather been a breath of fresh air. She's worried about everyone, of course. Her brothers are all fairly hopeless in their own personal ways, and although Cornelia is remarkable and ruthlessly effective person, even she isn't immune to needing gentle reminders to relax and take a breath and step back from a given situation.

Still, she trusts them to manage in her absence. Even with the political powder keg they were sitting on, at the end of the day Euphie is fundamentally optimistic and hopeful for the future, for the world.

Nothing to do with the present situation but make the most of it.

So, naturally, she's taken to the festivities like a fish to water, flitting delightedly from game to dance to feast. She tries a little of everything, and she keeps an eye out for anyone on the outskirts of the celebration, her instinct one not to let anyone feel left out even when she's a guest herself in this place.

If she does spot you in a corner, or off to the side, or trying not to be noticed, she comes right over, a plate of some kind of sweet, gooey dessert in hand. ]

Hello there! Have you tried this? I know it doesn't look it, but it's delightful. You must try it.

[ And then she tries to spoon some into your mouth, airplane style. ]

★ — we need to go deeper

[ She's standing in a field of flowers. It reminds her of the Imperial Villa but not quite. The blossoms are similar, and the structures in the distance are hazily familiar, but when she tries to focus too much on them they ripple away like reflections in water.

And yet, it's not too strange. She's happy here. It's so, so beautiful, and the skies are clear, and it smells like sun and spring and all the best days of childhood, a crown of flowers atop her head. Everyone is safe and well. She just has to wait. Someone is meeting her here, someone important. As long as she's patient, all will be well.

She hums to herself, walking among the flowers, hand trailing over their silken petals. A breeze sweeps through the field, and the flowers take wind as butterflies, filling the skies with their shimmering, fluttering colors. It takes her breath away, and she stands back in her wonder.

It would be a lovely thing, it they could all just stay here forever. ]

★ — stop hitting yourself

[ As far as Euphie can tell, someone's just turned out the lights. One minute she was walking down a nondescript hall, the next she lurches into darkness, unable to see her own hand in front of her face. ]

...oh dear. [ Blinking several times, trying to see if her eyes will adjust to the light, she thinks perhaps there are simply no lights in this hall, or the blackout is widespread and there are no exterior windows close enough to let in any outside light. She fumbles around until she feels a wall, then slowly proceeds down the hall in the direction she was going, a little unsure of what to do besides wait for the lights to come back. She's not familiar enough with the ship not to be hopelessly lost without the ability to read location placards and signs. ]

Hello? Is anyone there? [ Maybe someone out there is as lost as she is. Strength in numbers and all that. So she calls out. ] Hello, anyone? Does anyone know what's happened...?

light up the night

[felldownahole]

[Now this--this is much more his speed. A nice bonfire, actual dirt under his feet, free food, and best of all, ale. Decent stuff, too--and Trevor's set himself up with a nice cozy place on the outskirts of the fire, full to bursting and toasty warm, working himself into a pleasantly inebriated state while the locals go about their harvest festivities. Yes, this is much better than that ship. Maybe he'll stay behind, they've got to have some sort of monsters out there that need slaying, right? Or...bears, or something...monster bears...wolves...his pelt has been getting a little worn lately, the miles he's put on it--

The thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a cheerful, girlish voice offering him some kind of food, he presumes, and he's looking up from his tankard in order to decline when--]

Mmngph--!

[Yeah that. Sure is a spoon she just. Crammed in his mouth there. What. What is happening. Who is this pink-haired custard-wielding terror.]

What--

[He manages around the spoon, choking just a little, and....promptly spilling the last dregs of his tankard on her shoes. Whoops. Sorry, Euphie.]

light up the night

[pubertytwice]

<sub>[ This is exactly the kind of person that he doesn't want to deal with right now. Charming, friendly, bubbly. He's the perfect target for her antics, too. Off to the side in his own brooding session all the while watching the bonfire. Just because it was an easy distraction.

If he could somehow get the formula right, maybe he could get out of here and proceed back home. He had a lot of important business back home. Fate of the world kind of business.

The airplane spoon just irritates him further. It's because he looks like a kid, isn't it? Quickly, he grabs Euphemia's wrist, preventing her to proceed further. ]</sub>

I don't do sweets.

_{[ I'm sorry. He's a cranky old man. ]}

GO DEEPER

[blackwaterchild]

[Well, this was pleasant. Not even Miu could hold onto her grumpier thoughts or pretend to be completely indifferent to the beauty and sense of calm that permeated around the place.

She takes a breath and releases it slowly, letting some of her tension go with it. It is, she begrudgingly has to admit to herself, rather breathtaking. There's a girl that appears to be right at home here among the flowers, like she was born to wear that flower crown and be one with nature, untouched by the passage of time or marching on of technology. Then the breeze kicks up and Miu raises a hand to shield herself from the sudden shower of petals, making a slightly sour face as it subsides]

Hey--!

LIGHT IT UP

[eyediot]

[Jon still hasn't quite gotten his footing in all this yet. So a stop for some festival? Sure. He isn't exactly running to join festivities, but he can at least appreciate it from a cultural standpoint. These being shave a culture they're celebrating, and that's nice. It is, even nicer he thinks, that they're allowing the people on the ship to take part as well.

Euphemia running up to offer something to eat catches him off guard. He adjusts his glasses, looking down at it.]

Um-- No, I. Haven't tried that. [He takes it in one hand, examining it a little closer.] What is it?

Number Five | The Umbrella Academy

[pubertytwice]

_{[ Taken from the end of season 1, so don't worry about coming across any spoilers for season 2! ]}

1. LIGHT UP THE NIGHT;

<sub>[ You know, it just is his luck to rev up his powers as the apocalypse was raining down on them as we speak to zip off and end up on some unknown ship, separated from his family. A part of him feels like it was something done in error on his part and another part of him was described with a singular word of "shit."

Wrestling with concern and perhaps a bit of self-loathing, Five was itching to get off the ship where ever they decided to land. Of course, it's something cheerful like a festival going on, but he had no other excuse than to participate.. or at least be here and look for any means of alcohol. Or, at least, someone with alcohol that was willing to share with someone who.. appeared a lot younger than he actually was. Being 58 in a 13 year old body was rough.

He's still in a cursed uniform, adorable shorts with knee high socks and all, dammit. Is he ever going to get other clothes?

Whether or not your character has alcohol on them, Five is going to approach his target, hooking his first within the closest piece of their clothing he can get a hold of. ]</sub>

You're going to tell me where I can get liquor around here whether you like it or not.

_{[ A beat, before he grabs with his other fist: ]}

Or a decent cup of coffee. Capisci?

_{[ He's small. 5'3". But menacing. ]}

2. WE NEED TO GO DEEPER;

<sub>[ Wanna get a closer look into Five's brain? Hope you're ready for tons and tons of trauma, but this particular dream there is a lot of.. nothing. A vast wasteland where buildings that once stood have crumbled to the ground. There is nobody, no establishments for miles and miles, it seems. The heat is smoldering.

What someone might see is what appears to be the last standing library. A closer venture inside, one might discover Five there, flipping through books and books with a nice pile of them next to him, presumably those he read. He seems engrossed in his reading to really notice anyone nearby.

I mean, anyone nearby in the apocalypse.. that was silly thinking anyway. He was the last survivor, after all. ]</sub>

1 obviously

[felldownahole]

[As if this night couldn't get any better after the attack custard earlier, now here Trevor is, about to lose yet another tankard of ale as he finds himself being dragged forward by a fist in his shirt to face....

A very, very menacing child. Wearing--what is he wearing? Look at his knobby little knees, sticking out--

Okay, so laughter is probably the wrong answer, and he probably deserves that second fist in his shirt, bunching the embroidered insignia over his left chest, but he can't quite restrain the mirthful snort that escapes as the corners of his lips curl upward. Oh, this is cute.]

Easy there, son, no need to get violent about it. Pull up some dirt, there's an empty cup around here somewhere, if you aren't fussy about whether or not it's been used.

Trevor Belmont | Netflixvania (cw: implied child death in first prompt)

[felldownahole]

[ii. the mind palace]

[The last person anyone would expect to have a place like this in their memories is Trevor Belmont. After all, the man's illiterate, and this library seems to go on forever, stretching into the darkness, rows upon rows of books in many languages interrupted by the occasional display case. The room is cavernous, smelling of cool, faintly damp earth and paper, leather and dust. In this corner, there's a giant, cracked mirror that doesn't exactly seem to reflect the person looking into it. In another, a suit of armor that clearly didn't help its last wearer, judging by the rust-colored stains around the hole in the center that could be something very different from rust. And around that corner...a display case, full of skulls that appear to be human, though if you look closer, you can see strangely elongated fangs, wickedly sharp and glinting in the torchlight.

Trevor is standing in front of that case, and in his hands is a skull that's barely the size of a fist. A child, perhaps. A child with those same long, deadly fangs.]

All this knowledge. Centuries of tradition, learning....all for this.

[He sounds strangely contemplative, wistful almost, as he talks to himself. His head lifts suddenly, though, as he seems to hear footsteps, looking out towards the eyes he can feel watching from the shadows.]

Sypha? Alucard?

[iii. young man shouts at space]

[Right, okay. This is fine. This is probably fine. There's a ringing in his ears, a silence that's deafening, but honestly he's had worse during a hangover. It doesn't start to click that there's something seriously wrong as he leaves his bunk until he cracks his knee on the hilt of his shortsword in its scabbard, hanging on the back of the small chair, and realizes he can't hear a single bloody word of the string of curses he lets out.

He won't let panic sink in. He won't. Instead, he experiments with hitting a few surfaces with varying levels of hardness, digs around in his ears with a finger, tries equalizing the pressure--nothing. Still nothing but that silence. Only one thing left to try:

Making his way more carefully towards the intercom, Trevor flips the talking switch, which means the rest of the ship is now treated to his slightly slurred and far too loud voice.]

OI!! Someone tell me what's going on! Why's all the sound gone? My hearing's gone funny, Navi, what the hell's going on out there--

[Please stop him before he deafens the rest of the ship.]

[wildcard]

((Come at me with your best shot, or hit me up at amurderofbees#8035 @ the disco for a custom starter!))

ii

[blackwaterchild]

[What is with these dreams and libraries? Sheesh. At least this one seems pretty interesting--part library, part macabre museum. She pokes around examining the artifacts with a curious air, up until the guy--the only other person around here--speaks up to her.

Well, to the people he seems to hope she is.]

Neither. Sorry. [She wanders out from behind the bookshelves, glancing around before she focuses in on him.SHe wrinkles her nose a little at the sight of the skull, before raising an eyebrow at him.]

Are you going to start reciting Hamlet?

Connor-60 | Detroit: Become Human

[313_248_317_60]

A. Go Deeper - Memory

Sleep is a human affectation. Machines merely go into stasis: an intermittent procedure that permits their systems to defragment and integrate any unprocessed memories. And Connor #313 248 317-60 is a machine.

Perhaps it's fitting, then, that the shift from file processing to dream comes during a memory that isn't his. Connor knows the clean expanse of Cyberlife's Zen Garden: neat white paths encircling a pond and the island at its center. But this Connor, #313 248 317-60, has never seen the Garden quite so... warm.

A scatter of flowers line the pathways. Birds take flight. The trees are a riot of bright color, the air crisp on your tongue. The space is still idyllic—still so full of life and hope—but summer has begun to fade. And if you cast your gaze across the water, you can spot the reason why. A small boat is doing lazy circles through the water, occupied by a woman with a regal bearing and an android you might know.

Odd, considering what looks like the same android is standing at the water's edge. His stare is fixed on his copy, face utterly expressionless as his LED blinks: red.


B. Stop Hitting Yourself - Disassembly

Connor models are designed to gather information. A malfunction in his senses is unacceptable—and something, naturally, that needs correcting right away.

Which is probably how the current situation started. Anyone who walks into this lounge will find the RK800 seated by one of the small tables: skin peeled back to reveal a white exoskeleton in lieu of his usual face. A socket gapes next to one ear, bereft of a part the android is currently inspecting. If Connor's frown is any sign, he hasn't yet found the problem.


[[ooc: I'll match spam or prose!]]

disassemblin’

[sisterswitch]

Well, that’s not a sight one expects to see when walking into the lounge for a casual hangout. Jack wastes no time or effort on pleasantries (or tact, for that matter) and bluntly asks: “Is your face supposed to look like that?”

It’s possible. The city she just left behind was run by robots, and not all robots look the same. But it’s best to be sure, right?

Georgia Mason | Newsflesh

[choosetruth]

I - Light Up The Night

Georgia is not one for parties. Not at home, and certainly not when she's stranded in space. She spends the first few hours getting interviews, approaching anyone who looks interesting, whether they're from the planet or from her own ship. There's value in getting the outsider's perspective, even if she shares it. She asks questions about the festival, about her subjects' past experiences with space travel, about other celebrations.

But that gets boring fast. This is a fluff piece. She knows it, her readers know it, and her subjects probably know it too. This is all very well, people need fluff pieces to soften the blow of the hard hitting journalism that's so near and dear to Georgia's heart. After a little while, she gets the most caffeinated drink she can and takes a seat off to the side to observe the festivities. She's not really interested in taking part, but if people talk come over to talk to her, she's willing. Especially if they bring her more caffeine.

II - We Need to Go Deeper (cw blood)

She recognizes this place. It's the inside of her van, cramped and every nook and cranny filled with equipment in some arcane order that only makes sense to her, Buffy, or Shaun, or maybe, all three of them. She runs her fingers over one of the keyboards, smiling softly. She's written so many articles from here, spent so many good days with her team hunting zombies or just chasing politicians. It's one of her favorite places in the world.

But.

Something's wrong.

As she stares at the keyboard, blood starts seeping out from between each key. She steps back, staring in alarm. This isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

Across the screen, a sentence flashes. One word after another.

RISE UP WHILE YOU CAN

[adaptiveimmunities]

Shaun has had this dream so often that he doesn't even realize it's not his. He sees George, and he knows what's going to happen next. The needle. Saying goodbye to Rick. Those last desperate minutes and then--

But there's no typing, no gunshot. Just George and the words on the screen and the blood on the keyboard.

"George?"

Mikan Tsumiki | Super Danganronpa 2

[discerp]

A. Light Up The Night

[The revelry is fine and all, though she's still more than a little confused as to what the fuck is happening and WHY, but hey! Not the first time she's been kidnapped and woken up in a weird, totally different place!

At least this is visiting, um... Alien planets? Which is neat?? Even the bonfire is at least kinda familiar in execution if nothing else. But the natives are very...enthusiastic, it seems, nearly launching Mikan across the dancefloor in an effort to get her to participate, sending her crashing into the nearest person.

Immediately her eyes tear up and she looks on the verge of a panic attack] I-I'm sorry! Please, forgive me! [She winces, but then offers:] Y-you can hit me if you want, or cut my hair, or- or anything you want!

[What.]

B. Go Deeper - A

[It seems like a pretty beautiful place, honestly. A beautiful beach on an island, the waves crashing gently onto the shore, palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze... A bunny-looking thing getting beat up by a bear-looking thing... Completely normal.

Mikan sits on a towel on the sand, under the shade of a giant beach umbrella, a light expression on her face. The commotion makes her wince a little and look a bit uncertain, but then she relaxes with a laugh, like this is something totally normal to be witnessing.

Time to suntan on the beach?]

C. Go Deeper - B (SDR2 Spoilers) (CW: lots of background violence)

[It must be the apocalypse you've stumbled into here. The city is utterly destroyed, there are sirens blaring in the background. Gunshots, the occasion screaming. The streets seem to run red with blood.

Mikan sits on the hood of a near-by abandoned car, looking around with a detached sort of air. When she notices another character around, her eyes go wide in surprise and she sits up further, leaning forward]

What are you doing out here? It's dangerous, you know!

C

[boarprince]

[Dimitri's already been having trouble with distinguishing dreams and reality for some time, now. But even with his own questionable mental state, the surroundings are different enough from the reality he knows for him to figure out something's not right. The buildings are foreign, the vehicles strewn about are so alien that he can't even guess what their purpose might be. The gunshots, too, are unfamiliar. But the screams, the blood and the flames — that is familiar.

Disturbingly enough, that's what grounds him.

A girl calls out to him, and Dimitri's hand twitches, reaching for a lance that isn't there. He feels for the dagger strapped close to his body, relaxing ever so slightly when that, at least, remains. With a measured exhale he turns, studying her with a frown.]

Is it not dangerous for you as well?

light up the night.

[bravers]

[A living, breathing planet? Yeah, that's not exactly a concept all that different from what he's used to. ...There's that, at least- because everything else, community, singing, dancing, games and laughter?

Yeah. That's different all right. It's also not his thing.

So in the shadows, some distance away from aforementioned music, conversation and laughter, one of the planet's visitors lingers- arms crossed and body stationary, bright eyes reduced to a dim glow, half-lidded as he lingers.

Not like he can do anything else until the get-together's over. The Navi was pretty firm about getting out there and experiencing what this was before it's off to its next destination, so sloping back off into the ship is a huge no.

...So he waits for the music to fade out. For the fires to gutter out, the smells of all of the food to fade.

It's got to end sometime, right?]

Re: light up the night.

[borneinblood]

[In theory the celebration will end at some point. When that point will end is another question entirely, albeit one that Druitt has also asked himself - parties aren't much his thing either. Oh, he'll make passing attempts at partaking of what's on offer. But at the end of the day, he'd much prefer to stick to the shadows. To watch, rather than get personally involved.]

Waiting for something as well?

[The tone of his voice is a light as he can make it be, but even with that there's a faint suggest of menace. Not aimed at anyone, not at the moment, but it's there, and the fact that he seems to almost loom simply out of habit (and out of being remarkably tall) doesn't help matters much either.]

John Druitt | Sanctuary

[borneinblood]

{Light Up the Night}

[Druitt is, strictly speaking, not a party person. And certainly not the sort of person to believe that the world they happen to be on is actually alive. As such, he mostly lingers on the outskirts, an almost looming sort of presence as he gives a wide berth to where both the dancing and the singing are happening. Instead, he mostly lingers near the feast itself and the bonfire, and it's only when someone who doesn't appear to be one of the natives passes by that he speaks up.]

What do you make of all this?

[The feast, the celebration, the fact that the locals believe the world is literally alive; answers to any or all of these are things he's willing to listen to.]

{Stop Hitting Yourself}

[For all that he's aware that there are things that can adversely affect his ... unique abilities, this particular occurrence isn't something that Druitt can really say he'd expected. Worse still, it's profoundly irritating - while he still has some control over when he teleports, he has barely any control over where he ends up at the end of it. He's been lucky enough to not teleport into any pieces of furniture or any walls, yes. But other than that, he seems to turn up everywhere that he doesn't mean to.

Which in turns, means that regardless of wherever someone might be or what they were doing, there's a very tall (and perhaps slightly menacing-looking) man appearing out of nowhere in a puff of what looks like orange smoke.]

1

[fuckregularpeople]

[Jane is not a party person either, but she's behaving well at this particular gathering. The natives want a harvest celebration tailored to their worldview, fine, she'll roll with it. She pays little attention to their beliefs but partakes in the celebration, eventually settling down next to Druitt with a full mug and something close to a turkey leg in hand.]

What about it? It's just some people wanting a good time.

Clara Kent | DC Comics AU

[shahrrehth]

scenario one

It hits her funnybone pretty hard that she's been pulled into another universe, that she's traveling around through space, and where she ends up is an agricultural society. Farmland as far as she can see, and farm folk that are enough like the people she grew up around that she's just waiting for her Ma to come walking through the door, it feels like.

But it also means she knows what's what; farms are farms are farms in a lot of ways, hence the harvest and the harvest festival. She's done more than her fair share of helping around with organizing such things and while she knows the folks around here wouldn't ask for anything and seem more than willing to share their bounty, that doesn't sit right with her. That's why she'll be volunteering to help at anything anyone will give her and makes sure to keep her eyes peeled as she walks around the festival trying everything she can and enjoying both the familiarity and the novelty.

She definitely dances to the music and tries as many of the vegetarian foods as she can get on a plate. And the bonfire? She'll find a spot right near the warmth to enjoy it. It doesn't bother her.

scenario two

She's flying.

It's a common enough dream for her, one she'd always enjoyed even before she'd learned to fly properly. But it'd always been a very singular experience. It was something she did alone.

Except-

Except, right now, she can sense someone in the clouds with her. It's uncomfortable but...

Maybe it can be nice?

scenario three

Clara has never been so glad for her advanced senses as she is right now. After all, it's not as if she's been able to open up her eyes for the last few days. If it wasn't her heatvision it was her x-ray vision and between the two results, it just wasn't worth it to chance it.

It would help if she could keep her feet on the ground. That was another little 'joy' she'd been experiencing since this all started; she couldn't fly but she couldn't land, just this continual floating frustration that left her feeling like the only thing she can really feel is the strange connection she's had since she got here. Which she's not really comfortable with, to be honest.

But she's going to reach out. If only because the disconnection is starting to get to her...

2

[felldownahole]

She isn't going to have to sense alone for much longer, because that sure is a very loud and startled yelp emerging from the next cloud bank over, followed by a string of very colorful and creative cursing. Emerging on the other side, she'll find a grown-ass adult man trying to awkwardly breaststroke his way through the air like an oversized hairy frog, determinedly not looking down or back or--anywhere, really.

"Sypha! Sypha, is this some sort of joke?! I didn't mean what I said about your hair, I swear!"

Princess Looma Red Wind | Ben 10 Omniverse

[tough_love]

1. What Fresh Harvest Moon Hell is THIS?

[Talk about living planets? Weird, but not the weirdest thing she'd ever heard of. Mostly because her own galaxy sets the bar for weirdness impossibly high as it is. Looma thought it was dumb and probably just superstitious nonsense, but there actually was something troubling about this whole affair.

Something that made no sense to the red-skinned giant among the crowd of festivalgoers. Something unnatural]

You mean you actually eat these things? Why?!

[For anyone curious, on the list of things that apparently did not exist on certain alien worlds and were not universal dietary needs: vegetables. Of course, the sight of an armored 8'0" giant being grossed out by root vegetables of all things was probably entertaining in its own right. Though, considering each of her four arms were roughly the size of a human child, open laughter may not be the safest of responses. Best to just appease her with something edible. Like meat!

Or give her a drink, that'll probably end well. What's the worst that could happen, right?]


B. Walk Without Rhythm, and You... Die Looking Stupid

[Someone was bound to be unfortunate enough to wind up in Looma's dreams. And hopefully the more dream-specific rules of certain horror movie franchises didn't apply, because that would be profoundly unfortunate. Because if anyone wondered just what the pampered daughter of a warlord from an even more incredibly warlike culture on a planet that had literally been fighting a civil war for thousands of years dreamed about, the answer was not flowering meadows and April showers.

Though, thankfully, no one would be thrust into the middle of a warzone. She didn't have dreams about that particular hobby, she had plenty of time to actually command a battlefield and quash rebellions in her waking hours. No, anyone wandering into her dream would find themselves in the middle of a vast, suns-baked desert- and yes that's suns, plural, best of luck with that heat even if it is only a dream. But it's unlikely that's going to be the only problem, or the worst one.

See, one of Looma's other hobbies, one she didn't get to engage in nearly as often, was hunting. And, as this was Khoros- one of the single most dangerous planets in the known universe- that meant that anything she was hunting was also hunting her. And, by extension, whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves in her dreams. But hey, look around: no sign of another living thing for miles around. That's gotta mean it's safe enough for the time being, right? The fact that the giant war princess is standing in the middle of the desert repeatedly jabbing the shaft of a large metal trident into the ground probably meant nothing. Probably.]

one

[shahrrehth]

[ Watching the large red woman has her feeling more sympathy than she'd expect; she'd been a little like that her first day in Metropolis, looking around at anything and everything, waiting for the world to make sense. She figures she's in a unique sort of position to offer a bit of assistance, so she makes her way over with a drink in one hand and a smile on. ]

You're looking a little... uncomfortable. Something I can help you with?

John | Monster of Elendhaven

[firsthalfakiss]

[tw for all of his entries for disturbing and predatory thoughts, one especially. Two has blood. Three's... mostly fine, honestly.]

one

[ He'd been trying to be on his best behavior.

Not because he really cared about anyone here or any of the people he was apparently traveling around with now whether he liked it or not (and in truth, it wasn't too bad, really, better than the rail lines, better than the last city he'd been in)... but because he didn't feel like having that sweet-hearted kidnapper who'd brought him here getting finicky and booting him out.

There was something to being here, being on this trip, connecting with people whether they liked it or not. A part of him had always liked not having the choice in it. And another part was just pleased that someone had to be connected to him, pulled down to his level whether they liked it or not. In the proverbial flat of their shared connection, he was absolutely the sort to spread out on the couch like a spoiled cat and smile up at his 'roommate' who had been expecting to enjoy a night by the fire in just that spot.

So. He'd been behaving.

But then there'd been this festival and all the dark corners, all the mischief from good little boys and girls, all the darling sweet lasses and lads who were up for a bit of naughtiness and play now that the work of the season was done, and all of them with such pretty little throats and veins he watched dance in the firelight like they were tantalizing him all their own.

He liked the food, he liked the fire, he liked the games, but mostly? He liked the dancing. It was where he was staying for the moment, to watch, to participate, to lean close to the fire, as close as he dared, without burning himself.

But he can't help that he might watch the small, the fair, the delicate a little more intensely than others.]

two

[ They ought'n't to be here.

It's the first thing that hits him as he realizes what's different, what's wrong. There shouldn't be anyone alive here but him, but them, but-

But there is, someone, someone in this dark parlor, and for a moment he wonders if the mage hunter has somehow rallied after all of that, had some extra trick to her, had some manner of silver solvent for death. But it isn't her.

It's someone else. Someone he's just as interested in snuffing out because they don't belong here. Not now, not for this. Not as he can feel the warm blood dripping down his hands and what feels like blood, something warm and liquid and a little too thick, like saltwater, dripping down his face.

There's the choking sounds, the small and delicate and beautiful and corrupted and damaged body in his arms, and the feel of the magic and Florian's voice, his voice, his power, making and remaking the world, remaking everything, destroying and creating, binding and unbinding and no one else should BE here as it happens. No one else should be here as he's born.

He doesn't speak but the desire is clear: get. out. ]

three

[ At first, it's almost a treat; he'd gotten so used to being able to skulk about the city, do as he liked without anyone remembering him or noticing him for longer than the conversation lasted that having a face people remembered had been a real hassle to get used to back in his own world. Having it back like it used to be, unconscious and constant, no effort involved... that'd been lovely.

Then, well, it'd gone too far.

No one talking to him, no one looking uncomfortable at his words, no one drawn to his pretty face or put off by his leather gloves or leaning back from the way he leaned in when he wanted to put a shiver up someone's back.

Oh, he could hurt them, of course. He'd come with his knife, of course, a few, of course. But there wasn't any satisfaction after the first... couple. All right, it'd taken four before it'd stopped being funny and it'd started to be frustrating.

He wasn't being a lunatic, certainly, no shouting and screaming and ranting and carrying on while everyone else just went about their business. He didn't think it would make him feel better to do all that while they didn't even notice. Quite the contrary, really.

So he'd started to do more useful things... like see if he could get into people's rooms, look at their things, take anything he was particularly interested in. Oh sure, this would probably end soon enough, but until then-

The thought was interrupted by someone walking into their own room, and unlike the last few days? Looking right at him with his hand on their... what was it? He hadn't even looked yet.]

Good day to you.

[ And of course he'll tip the hat he's not wearing. Might as well be charming now that they're seeing him. ]

Jonathan Reid | Vampyr

[transfundere]

one

The harvest festival is a relief, really. For the most part, he's been unable to do very much to assist these people with their needs. Pearl diving, fruit picking, etc... all daylight activities. And he is, and will ever be, a creature of the night.

He offers his services as a physician instead, and that, of course, is where he hears about the pirates. Something he fully intends to do something about... under the cover of darkness, of course.

But the celebration, the joy and the life, all of it lit by the moon and the stars and the bonfire? That is delightful. And while he cannot enjoy the food, he will enjoy watching people at their games, watching people laugh and sing and dance, or even just curl up near the fire? He's glad that he got to see it. It helps his somewhat saturnine temperament from turning overly gloomy given the recent turn of events.

He might keep his distance, but he is smiling.

two

The world is red.

He hates when the world is red. It means one of two things: he's starving to the point where he might attack someone... or he's about to get a talking to from his creator.

He's honestly not sure which one he's least excited about. But that makes it all the more odd when feels the presence of someone else here. That could be interesting, or it could be very bad.

three

He had decided to hide.

It is difficult on this ship, but he has to; there is no choice here. His abilities are all terribly violent, have the potential to cause great harm. And his senses, when they go haywire, can send his more beastial instincts into a panic. He doesn't even want to think of what might happen if anything else goes out of control. And so, he is hiding.

If you find him, it will be difficult to catch the shadow flitting past you or, if those abilities are not working at the moment, the very insistent vampire barreling towards wherever you are not.

Mammon | Obey Me!

[betterhavemammoney]

Light up the Night
Now this was the sort of planet they should visit more often! Arion was great in Mammon's books, giving him a clear excuse to join in the party. Sure the place was rural and behind the times, lacking any treasures he takes a liking to, but he'd eaten, drank, and danced heartily, observing the festivities and games. Late in the evening he produces a deck of playing cards and shuffles them, smiling. The only thing missing here is a good game, and why shouldn't he provide that? Especially if he can fleece a few marks into giving up their savings. He can always use the beautiful, gorgeous money.

"Hey gorgeous!" Mammon calls out with a smile, aiming a wink at the next person who comes along. "Take your chance on finding the queen?" He shuffles his deck of cards and places the kings of spades and clubs down alongside the queen of hearts, then flips them over deftly and shuffles them with unnatural speed before laying them out in a pattern. "Guess right and I'll double your bet!"

Prepare to be scammed, everyone!


Stop Hitting Yourself
All right, this is deeply unfair. The Great Mammon, one of the most powerful devils of his generation, the demon brother second only to Lucifer, had lost control over his abilities. Sure, it wasn't that different than what Satan or Leviathan might do at home with a well-timed curse, but to be shown as lesser in front of humans -- now that was an insult, one he tries to brush off every time his speed sends him hurtling into a wall like a pinball in a machine. He's just trying to keep a brisk pace, and it's like he's running on wet ice!

"Augh! Dammit, Navi!" He flinches, pushing himself carefully off the wall he's planted himself into. "This is stupid, get it together! And what're YOU starin' at?" Mammon narrows his eyes, doing his best to come off as lordly and intimidating, which probably doesn't work too well when he's rubbing his aching jaw and shoulder.

[albatrossomen]

Never mind the actual wet ice Murmur is pretending it's not a problem. The pinballing demon on the other hand has been greatly amusing to watch.

"Troubles, oh great and terrible Mammon?"

He called lightly, from a safe distance away, not doing anything to hide his mirth. Oh this is just too good! How can he resist pestering his favorite demon?

Vicar Max - Outer Worlds

[clavis_caerulea]

one

[ For most of the people here, this harvest celebration must seem simple, mundane, and even a little boring. After all, for most, farming is just how food gets to the table. But for Max, who has never so much as seen a vegetable or an animal that wasn't poisonous to eat? It's a revelation.

The farms, the plants, the fishing and the pearl-diving... it's all things he hardly knows other than in some abstract texts brought from Earth that he'd been privileged to read. And yet, here, all are so used to these things. He wouldn't say that they take them for granted, but in the context of his own civilization, he can't help but think so to some degree. These people with their functional food and their agrarian society... so different from Halcyon. The light in their eyes, the energy in them, the lushness of everything-

He's glad that he'd only been summoned into this situation after his revelation. He's almost sick to think of how he would have tried to put this all into context as a proper scientician.

Instead, he can merely accept it as another facet of the beautiful chaos that is existence. He can dance or warm his old bones near the bonfire, enjoy the delicious and nourishing food the likes of which he's never had. He can enjoy the sun on his skin and the feel of the water and the sand as he carefully pads around at the beach and tries a few expeditions into the waves.

...and it's not too hard for him to find something akin to a tossball stick to handle any pirates that might cause trouble. A little bit of violence is just what the doctor ordered after a few days of paradise.

All in all? He's happy for company with any of it. Just, uh... stand back if you're going with him after pirates. Sometimes, he can get a little enthusiastic. ]

two

[ It's a simple enough dream. Simple enough that someone might mistake the hallways of this ship for the one they've been brought to, but it doesn't take too much attention to see the difference. The Unreliable, as she is called, is not exactly what one would call 'state of the art'.

If it's any kind of art, it's probably some sort of recycling project. It's also, despite the efforts of a rather zealous janitorial robot named SAM, not all that clean.

But if you leave the cargo bay and go up the stairs, go past a couple of rooms, and peer into the one occupied by someone who isn't just a shadow from a dream, you'll see the man in the blue cassock sitting at his little table with his books and his journal, scribbling away in between reading lines of what look like nonsense but would be, in the real world, some manner of mathematical text.

The vicar will pause, put his pen down, and glance up at you as you approach. ]

Can I help you with something?

wildcard

[ Dealer's choice!]

Lady | Devil May Cry

[patricided]

I. We need to go deeper
[As dreams go this is probably the softest most girly dream someone like Lady could have. (Not that she realizes she's having it.) Considering her wardrobe upon arrival who would have thought the Devil Hunter favored designer clothes from high-end boutiques. Let alone clothes with actual color. White and plaid are just very efficient for hunting demons where gore and blood regularly goes flying. One bleaches well and the other hides stubborn stains easily. Completely sensible choices just like the blood-red combat boots. As much as her hunting gear is intended for it's utilitarian uses, she loves a cute outfit when she finds one.

Moreover who knew she could actually smile and not make it seem like a threat? Or laugh?

Attendants for the boutique laugh and joke with her as they bring her clothes to try on and the keep pile is almost as large as the discard pile. One of them says something to her and Lady shakes her head her shoulders shaking with a restrained laugh.]

No it's okay, Dante said he'd cover it all no matter the cost. Said he owes me. Let's try that rack next.

[Her enthusiasm bleeds into how she moves across the floor so quick one might wonder if she were actually human. (But this is dreams and physics are a little less constraining here.) Long fingers already running over fabrics and hangers as she pulls another outfit out at last and holds it to her body.]

What do you think?

II. Stop Hitting Yourself
[There's a sick sense of confusion at first. Lady swears she opened her eyes after waking from a short catnap. But there's nothing to see, which is odd. Normally, there'd at least be the grey of the walls to meet her eyes, but now it's just black.

After a moment of furiously blinking in the hopes that it would clear up the sudden lack of sight, Lady makes it into the hall. Hand-pressed to the wall to help guide her toward one of the common areas at the end of the deck. Teeth grit in frustration, because believe it or not she needs her sight. You can't be an effective devil hunter without it. At least not one that depends on her marksmanship skills to do the majority of her killing.

Of course, lack of sight also means that she can't tell when she's about to bumble into an obstacle. Specifically, an obstacle that normally wasn't there so she can't even plan how to adjust her course around it. Mental maps are only handy when things remain static.]

Shit.

[She grunts when trips/stumbles/bumps into the obstacle. Eloquent as always she is as she feels around for whatever is in her way.]

II

[versifications]

Here. [As she stumbles, Lady will hear a familiar soft-spoken voice, and feel the cold handle of something being pressed into her hand. A cane.] You seem to need this more than I do.

[V stands back, giving Lady some room, before he adds drily,] Be careful of the pointy end.

12th Doctor || Doctor Who

[guitar_hero]

We Need to Go Deeper It is a dream. Or maybe it isn't. It feels real, but maybe too real. You may be in a house with unending corridors, you may be on the top of a tall tower overlooking a sea and a sky full of too many stars. White glimmers too beneath the waves below. Or you may be staring at a wall of shining diamond. But something or someone is always always watching. And someone may even touch your shoulder. Do you dare to turn around?

Stop Hitting Yourself

They say there's a first time for everything, but he's a little annoyed at having a second go round. In other words, witness the Doctor wandering around wearing his sonic sunglasses (which are also on the fritz, wouldn't you know it) and attempting to pretend he isn't blind. This might or might not work-- feel free to be fooled or to save him from walking through an airlock.

Gaius Baelsar | FFXIV

[forgarlemald]

[1. light up the night]
[There's something to be said about traveling through space, of all things. And that's that it is an entirely disconcerting experience, to look out the ship's windows and see the vast, empty expanse of nothing.]

[So it's a real damn blessing when the ship finally docks and they can all step out onto sweet, firm earth, the unfamiliarity of the star far less of a concern than it is to simply be on a star again.]

[He does his best to avoid the celebration, when he can. Politely declines all invitations to dance, to join in their games, and largely keeps to himself by the warmth of the bonfire, keeping his own shipmates in sight as often as he is able.]

[And when a mug of...something, is passed to him, he takes it without a word. At least, until he can tear his gaze away from the festivities to look down at it. He frowns then, and pale eyes look side-long at the one responsible.]

Do I want to ask what it is?


[2. we need to go deeper | SPOILERS up to patch 5.3]
[It takes some time before the children are finally asleep. They should have been in bed well over an hour ago, really, and any other night Gaius would have told both of them firmly, yet not unkindly, to return to their rooms and go to sleep, while he himself continued to work long into the night.]

[Tonight, however, he finds himself unable to. Ricon and Milisandia all but beg to stay up just a little longer, eager to regale him on how their tutoring had gone that day, to ask questions on where it is they're traveling to next, and their presence alone is a comfort, soothing over the dull ache at his core. By the time the two of them do finally exhaust themselves to sleep - Milisandia curled up on his lap and Ricon tucked under his arm, snoring softly against his side - Gaius, for long moments after, can't find it in his heart to move them, bandaged fingers carding gently through Ricon's hair as he sits there, watching them.]

[It's a little more difficult than it used to be, he finds, to lift both of the little Au Ra up into his arms as he stands. He's grateful for them to be so small again (again?), careful of both childrens' horns and tails as he adjusts his grip without waking them. But he stops short as he turns to the door, brow raising in faint surprise as he takes in the person standing there.]

[When had they...?]

My apologies, if you were waiting on me. I was...

[A look down, at the two little forms in his arms.]

Busy.

2 - blanket spoiler warning forever

[ancestor]

[ Hemera should not be here, witnessing something so precious and private, and yet she cannot bring herself to leave. Instead she lingers, watching from a doorway she has no recollection of stepping through, arms and heart both aching with the phantom weight of what could have been if fate had been kinder. ]

So I can see. [ When the man speaks she smiles with a warm affection that cannot be faked. ] Do you need any help?

Nero tol Scaeva | FFXIV

[nerological]

LIGHT UP THE NIGHT

[He could bitch, about the ship, about being far away from home, about being lost out in the middle of space on some grand adventure that he definitely never gave his consent to go on, sure.

If he wanted to be boring. No, he didn't want to land on the goddamn planet, he wanted to stay on the ship and poke around, he's been on land before, thanks. He knows what land looks like. It's only through some sort of stupid, backwards miracle that he's even off the ship right now. Maybe someone managed to convince him to get the hell off and touch some grass, but he doesn't look too chuffed to be here.

He doesn't have food, and he didn't need an invitation to take any, all the better that no one seemed to mind him helping himself, taking care not to roll his eyes too openly at the talk of the star being alive. Okay. Sure. Whatever.

As for the festivities, he's.... around. Watching, no doubt, munching on something, counting the minutes to when he can go back to the ship... and complaining defensively at anyone who tries to make small talk with him or make him interact.]

I'm in the middle of eating, sorry, hands tied.

[Did he just grab that plate of food as an excuse to be left alone? Probably.]

WE NEED TO GO DEEPER

[Night time in a vast, open, sprawling desert, the sounds of gunfire, shrieks and explosions distant and faded, but still all too obvious. The moon shone bright overhead, illuminating the sand in its pale blue-white glow. The only sound louder than the noises of war in the back were the crunching of booted feet underfoot and the gentle clink of armor.

He hurt, he hurt, by the Emperor himself did he hurt, his lungs burning. Hadn't he been here before...? It felt so familiar, but his mind wouldn't let him ponder that, forcibly turning his wandering thoughts back to where they belonged: in the here and now, fleeing from the compromised Praetorium before it could be decimated, after having... After being-

The thought stuck in there, like a bullet in flesh. He didn't lose. He didn't lose, he never lost. This wasn't losing, retreat was a tactical maneuver- not that the Emperor would see it as much. He winced, pausing to lean against a rock as the sound of another riotous explosion rocked the building, already so distant, behind him. He'd surely be far out enough where no debris or shockwaves could reach him now.

Lord van Baelsar, Gaius, would be disappointed. Imagine the look on his face, the tone of his voice, addressing a coward, a defector- He needed to sit down. He had to get his head about him again, there in the sand, propped against a rock, his head turned upwards at the stars and moon above. It was only the sound of footsteps that would shake him from whatever reverie he'd entered, scrabbling for his hammer and spitting elaborate, Garlean curses.]

-can't catch me unawares, it will not end here!

[ancestor]

[ It is a cacophony of sound she has never heard before. The shrill screams of fear and cries of death are familiar to her senses, but Archaeotania's destruction had been an aberration of creation; an accident. There are no such monsters here, only people. Though, as she watches the chaos around her, she begins to wonder if people weren't the monsters all along.

The moment her presence finally begins to draw attention is the moment she realizes she needs to leave. Something about the rods of metal pointed her way frighten her more than the explosions of fire and collapsing structures around her. Her teleportation spell activates, yet instead of touching down upon the beautiful stonework of home her feet sink into desert sand. She can still hear the sounds of fire and death in the distance...

She also hears the cursing of a man from much less of a distance. It startles her enough that she loses her already unsteady footing, leaving her tumbling head over heel down the dune until she slides into what is either a very conveniently or inconveniently placed rock. Head spinning, she lays still and quiet. Blood runs warm down her face where the edge of her mask cut into it.

A wheeze of a breath slips from her lips, and she cracks open an unnaturally bright, blue eye in an attempt to suss out the location of whoever it was she heard not a moment ago. ]

The chaos all seems rather like a finale, if you ask me. Which you didn't, but I'd rather hear my voice than all the screaming and dying.

"Squirt Littlebody" | FFXIV

[popotopirate]

Light Up The Night

[It wouldn't be the first time he's been spirited away from home to Twelve knows where. And this time, there isn't even a particular face to point at at blame for it, not that he held any kind of lingering discontent with the Exarch. He was however, a bit cranky about this turn of events, yes. Considering the situation he left behind in Eorzea, what was at stake back there, how messy things looked like they were about to become, the mess he just goddamn left-

Getting out of the ship and onto solid ground helped. What really helped was a party though, oh hells yes. Of course he's going to go rooting around for alcohol, why wouldn't he? Of course he's going to grab as much food as possible, of course he's going to join in on every song even if he has to make up the words sometimes, hope everyone likes vaguely off-key gibberish when he can't follow along!

And of course, he's going to be wandering around the forest of shins and knees, trying to talk to every living, breathing, sapient being in sight. Even you, in a voice that could only be described as babyish, no different than a five year old's, though with far better diction,]

Oi then, what's your story, mate?

We Need to go Deeper [CW: Blood, talk of death]

[The dimly lit little room in Cloud Nine was, as the rest of the city, cold. Not so much that he could see his breath, but still noticeably chilly. Or, perhaps that was his imagination. He'd seen a fire, he was sure, he swore. This room should feel warmer, shouldn't it? He was cold though, so cold. He must be cold, for why else would he be shaking?

The blood had all been washed off... Mostly washed off. In his hands he wrung the last piece that he'd failed to clean: the soft leather gloves dyed Maelstrom red, though the dark and rusty stains were still all too obvious. Don't look at me so... His grip tightened, unable to bring himself to take the gloves to the wash basin. A smile better suits a hero. All he had left of the man was this, stains on leather, ghostly memories in his head, the image of the light fading from the eyes of a beloved, dear friend who's voice he'd never hear again. Hadn't been fast enough, hadn't been skilled enough, if he'd only paid better attention, if he'd moved a little quicker, he would be here right now-

He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be here again, this was a dream, this was a dream, he was dreaming it was just a dream just a dream just a dream... The tears were already collecting in his eyes, well aware he wouldn't be able to stop the flood of them now.]

[unnecessaryflourishes]

[This particular set of knees - or rather, the robes associated with them, in all their finery - might just be a little familiar. Whether or not it's a welcome sight is another question entirely, but that's never been something that has bothered Emet overmuch.]

Must there always be a story?

[This is not to say that he doesn't have stories, much less ones that he'd be willing to share. Just that he's going to spend a moment being gently dramatic about it, first.]

Rosie Zampano |The Magnus Archives.| Canon current, possible spoilers.

[nosyrosie]

[Rosie can’t remember the last time that she’d been able to attend a festival. For the last four years, nearly everything that she had done had been with work (there was something about Magnus that tends to breed workaholics even if you weren’t one before and it didn’t leave much time for things that were beyond the actual halls of the Institute.) and being around this many people who she doesn’t know feels very odd indeed. Telling herself that it’s nothing more than paranoia because it has been so often in the past, Rosie just takes a deep breath as she moves through the crowd of people, feeling a bit out of place in the sort of suit that she’d been wearing as a work uniform for what possibly seems like forever.

After so long being keyed on, the idea of peace is something that’s entirely foreign to her, even as she fixes a smile that’s more on the side of a customer service rep than some sort of relaxed party goer. She hasn’t come bringing food or anything, but Rosie does accept a glass of wine as she sits near a fire, not caring for the fact there’s nothing between her trousers and the ground below.

But she watches, of course Rosie does, trying to make sense of all of this. For all of the things that she’d learned about in the last four years, one thing that she’d never considered was actual space aliens or life on other planets. Maybe she’s lost it finally, she’s decided, or maybe it was just one more weird thing that happened because of her job.]

[radix]

[root knows all too well that nonhuman life exists on earth - why would a sentient population be exclusive to a single planet? it makes perfect sense, like lines of code building to create an algorithm, but that doesn’t mean she likes being here. on this planet, she’s cut off from the machine, and it feels like a piece of her has been unceremoniously and brutally ripped out of her.

she misses having that link to her god, even if now she has a different mental link with the ship she’s stuck traveling on. she misses her friends, and she misses the work they do together to save lives. what purpose does she have now?

might as well mingle with the locals, she supposes. maybe an opportunity will present itself if she keeps looking, something she can grab that will pull her along until she can find a way home. root spots rosie and recognizes her from the ship, though they haven’t yet spoken. time to fix that. root makes her way toward the other woman and kneels on the ground in the space next to her without invitation.]

Some party, isn’t it?