thetube | Test Drive Meme: June 2015

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Welcome to the Underground test drive meme! This is where you can try out the AU version of your character, start some potential CR and get a feel for the world of the game. Choose your character's species, read up on the available factions and you're ready to go. Put your character's name in your subject line when you post, tag out, and have fun!

Note to current players: Activity in this meme counts as game canon! So you can use it for activity check. If you end up playing anything that you can't or don't want to use as game canon, it's fine to ignore it. (In that case you shouldn't submit it for activity check.)

Here are some prompts to inspire you:

1) LONDON CALLING. People come to London from all corners of the earth. Now you're here and whether you meant to or not, you've been drawn in to the supernatural world. Perhaps you're here to meet other members of your faction. Or perhaps the city's more unusual inhabitants find you first.

2) DARK SIDE. Whether it's animal instincts, a lust for blood or uncontrollable magic, every supernatural being struggles with their darker instincts. Be careful, you may end up doing something you regret.

3) ENEMY TERRITORY. You've found yourself on the wrong side of the tracks. This is enemy territory, you shouldn't be here. Better hope you can sneak your way through without any trouble. Although you have this nagging feeling that you're being followed...

4) GET YOUR SHOVEL. Well, there's a body. Freshly killed, and they didn't come to a natural end. The question is, did you do it or was it someone else? You'd better sort this mess out quickly.

5) STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM. It's the Wimbledon finals, so grab a picnic basket, buy some horribly overpriced strawberries, choose your tennis-themed outfit and get yourself off to SW19. Sure you can handle large crowds? Now is not the time for a supernatural mishap.

6) JUST DANCE. It's a ceilidh! (Barn dance.) Organized by witches but open to all (friendly) newcomers, the dance takes place in an old music hall. There's food, drink, folk music and a magical ritual to bless all young single people attending who are looking for a partner. You never know, your next dance partner might be the one.

7) FULL MOON. (2nd July) Uh oh, it's that time of the month. Werewolves, have you been feeling more aggressive lately? A little short of temper? Better start preparing for your monthly transformation and hope that you don't get interrupted. And then there's the morning after, which feels like a massive hangover. Wait, where are your clothes?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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The woman who sits next to him on the bench carries a fresh cool scent like fresh snow and it almost seems to cool the warm summer day. Her hat shadows her face but it's the large sunglasses that hide bright green eyes. She holds a cell phone in one hand and lifts her glasses off her face to glance at the screen before tucking it back into a tiny bag and turning her head a little to take in both the still cooing child and the father.

The titles of his books are what made her veer off course. Such interesting titles. Spirits, Fairies, Leprechauns, and Goblins: An Encyclopedia. It is not light reading. Especially not for a busy father. She lifts one of the books next to him as though that is a perfectly normal thing for a stranger to do. "A compendium on the Tylwyth Teg. A mythology professor?" She asked, pronouncing the Welsh remarkably well for someone who did not sound strictly British. More continental with a touch of American.

He freezes when he catches out of the corner of his eye someone picking up one of his borrowed books so casually. He looks up at their direction, ready to tell the person off, and stops himself when he sees its a woman and knows better than to act like a jerk.

"Nope, ma'am. Just a regular ol' bartender." Being raised in London does little to hide his Brooklyn accent, an inheritance from his mother more than anything. He rubs his neck a bit, feeling a little bit embarrassed to admit it but hey. That's his livelihood and he shouldn't be ashamed of that. "Just reading these up because they seem interesting, ya know? Goblins, nymphs, trolls. What they are and who-- I mean what they do."

From her spot, Margaret gurgles with contentedness as she listens to the soothing voice of her father speak to another voice that she can't quite see from her angle -- A pretty voice is all the baby can pick up with her limited knowledge, cool and clear like glass.

Ahh, American. Interesting. Such a young man to be a bartender in London with a young child. Her eyes look curious. Had he been about to say 'who they do'? She flips the pages open and allows her gaze to skim some paragraphs before closing the book again and setting it neatly on top of his stack. Mab tucks the sunglasses into the collar of her blouse and crosses her legs as she turns to speak to him more directly.

"Interesting indeed. You might be reading for years if you wish to cover the entire known mythology of the fair folk in each country. I imagine it will keep you entertained for some time." Her smile was a little knowing as she said it. Her eyes drift momentarily to the baby carriage. There are some that a child might enjoy. Some a child really might need, not that an adult would think to use them anymore to warn children of dangers. No, that was a delightful thing about mortals these days. Faeries were tales, not truth. No need to worry about the monster in your closet, or that lovely woman at the river. They couldn't be real. Her eyes move back to the man. "What piqued your interest in such lore?"

There's a significant pause he pretends to look down to make sure he hasn't lost the page he's reading, drumming his fingers against the surface of the paper.

Obviously he isn't sure of how to answer the question posed to him without sounding like a nutjob. I think my ex-girlfriend was a magical creature because it'll explain why my kid glows now and then but I don't know what magical creature and now here I am, studying whatever I can get my hands on to get a basic idea of how to raise my daughter?

Yeah. He's pretty sure at the moment he would chase her off by saying that and get the cops called on him so he opts to say, "An ex of mine was really into it. Guess she got me into reading the stuff now that she's gone."

… Not a total lie, he reasons with himself. When they were still together, Lyra was pretty fond of weaving stories about the golden days of forests and crossroads, deals and bargains made by creatures that walked among humans or hid near the fireplaces of a family's home. The way she told it to him made it feel like she was there when it all went down and he should have picked that up as a clue to her real origins.

A whine from Margaret grabs his attention as he sets the book away, sitting up a bit to check on his girl. "There's also the off chance I could tell these as stories to my little girl here when she's old enough for it. I have to admit though some of the stuff is pretty… tough to stomach."

He considers for a time and Mab is impressed that he took the time instead of just trying to blurt something out. It is likely he's hiding something but that is only smart. After all, you never really knew who you were talking to. The though makes her lip quirk just a bit in one corner.

Her brows lifted at his response. "How interesting. Many, "she has to pause a moment to make sure she doesn't say humans, "people simply refuse to look at the things that interested a previous lover. Either because it is too painful or because it causes too much anger. It was amicable?"

Her eyes drift down to the pram and she watches him check on his daughter. "There are worse things you could tell a child. Many lessons can be learned in the old tales." She replies, because lets face it, Mab isn't all that concerned with sheltering children from the truth. Knowledge is power no matter how old you are. Even if it's just the knowledge not to take candy from beautiful strangers.

Matthew had decided to get better at lying thanks to an earlier embarrassing mishap with some other people asking almost the same thing. He rather not embarrass the hell out of himself twice in a row.

"More or less? We agreed it ran its course," he shrugs, recalling the quick and brief and easy way the two of them talked while agreeing to end their relationship.

A part of him is kind of sad he had to end it with Lyra. Another (and larger) part of him is real fucking annoyed with her that she skedaddle out of town before telling anything him about Margaret's existence. More so if she had a damn clue about her daughter's powers. Sigh.

"Kind of wish I kept her number," he admits to Mab, letting his feelings get the better of him. "See how she's doing and tell her all the stuff I found, scary stuff or not, but no dice. Apparently she's a busy bee."

To the point she's gone and nowhere to be seen. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck as he reaches down to pick up Margaret with one arm as she begins to fuss for attention. The baby is full revealed to Mab as he properly holds her in his arms. Downy hair that hints to being a redhead with bright green eyes, her face settled in a perpetual expression of happiness.

Well there were certainly worse ways a relationship could end. The Unseelie Queen being a prime example, the woman was still in a tizzy about being slighted. He kind of droops a little looking resigned. Which makes it seem like it was more amicable for his ex than for him.

A brow lifts at his second statement. "Scary?" She wonders aloud but the man is pulling his child out of the pram and into his arms. The little girl looks elated to have her father's attention again. And something about her sings of magic. Mab pauses, stilling far more than a normal person might, eyes intent on the child.

Fae mythology, scary stuff found, well well.

"Maybe it's being an obnoxious pops myself but I found a lotta weird stuff 'bout kids. Kids getting kidnapped. Kids getting replaced. Kids not safe from danger." He's pretty sure he's going to have some funny dreams about it down the line thanks to the stuff he's found. "Never thought there would be so much interest in kids but apparently kids have something special to them? I don't really wanna think on it after what I read."

He's used to people paying attention to his baby girl the moment she's in line of sight for them, knowing there's something about babies that make people act goofy or weird.

This? It makes Matthew look at her with narrowed eyes at the sudden attention on Margaret, not quiet putting his finger on it but--

"Oi!" Of course just then his daughter reaches out and yanks on a tiny fistful of his red hair, bringing his attention all back to her in the most painful away possible. She giggles, amused by her parent's pain. "Margie! Come on. You're gonna make me bald at this rate."

"The greatest monsters are the ones that destroy innocence, are they not?" She asked, still looking at the little girl but she started breathing again. An innocent soul provided more pure power as well. It could amp up a spell quite a bit. Only a magical entity provided more. And his child was both. Perhaps he should read her all the stories.

"Such a special child." She murmured as the little girl yanked on his hair and she smiled a little. Speaking of destroying innocence. It's not like someone in Mab's position can help thinking of what kind of power she could shape such a child into. Kind of like a human imagining what they would do if they won the lottery. "Sweet and precocious, you must have your hands full." Maeve had been drawn contrariness from an early age. The thought made something twinge inside her she wasn't willing to acknowledge and closed her eyes for a moment to push the thoughts aside.

Margie gurgled at the compliment from the pretty lady with the pretty voice, oblivious to what was going on besides the fact every time she tugged dad he would pay attention to her and smile.

Meanwhile, Matthew is doing his best to multitask in something that doesn't involve glasses and alcohol. While keeping his eye on Margaret, he tried to keep his focus of the conversation with-- darn it. Wait. It clicks in his head he has no idea where she's from or who she is besides a few educated guesses from her appearance and her manners but hey. Faking it until you make has a time tested thing to do and she has the looks to be a be a movie actress or someone from a play. He doesn't think he ever got her name, period, and she knows enough about him that-- Urgh.

The more he thinks about it the more he feels like a hell of a chump. Dumb of him to do and she must think of him has an ass for not introducing himself properly. Gotta find a way to learn more about her with some style.

"I do. Just me and her these days." He's not holding his breath at the idea of Lyra being part of the family if he ever finds her again. "Been looking after this little lady for only a bit but we have a bond now. She has my eyes after all and hair. (Not my lips though. Thank God for that.) A Brown baby all the way. Margaret Brown to be exact. I like to think I got her a pretty name but I bet your parents made sure to give you something gorgeous, miss--"

Smooth.

When she opens her eyes again the little girl looks as though she's thoroughly pleased with herself and her father looks frazzled and ... chagrined? Mab had missed something while she tempered her emotions back down. Even so the air around them was significantly cooler, fortunately in a park most of the cool seeps back into the warm summer heat but there are still ribbons of fog here and there, barely noticeable, where cold and hot meet.

He draws her attention back to the child and Mab lifts a hand to touch the fine fuzz of red on the child's head, moving slowly enough for her father to stop her if he is not ok with a stranger touching his child. A touch would send a tingle of shared magic between them. Most women would already be leaning in and making childlike noises at the little girl. Mab was definitely more dignified. "Margaret Brown." She repeated the child's name with something like reverence. Straight from her father's mouth. I see nothing wrong with your lips, Mr. Brown." She replied, still looking at the child and she let some tenderness creep into her expression because it would be odd not to were she human. And it was easier to do that others as she had sometimes looked at her own child that way.

Finally she looked up at him and let her mouth drift into a soft smile, she always showed emotion when posing as human. Though sometimes it felt a little cool, standoffish. Like she wasn't used to talking much with other people and wasn't quite sure what was acceptable. "Generally people call me Ms. Sommerset." She offered.

Margaret stares up at her now, enraptured the moment she hears her name being said by the woman. Almost entrenched, really, with how she falls so quiet and still.

--Okay.

Thinking that's enough affection for one day, assholeish as it sounds to anyone else, he pulls Margaret back and cradles her to his chest to keep her right there. See if she'll get back to being normal, hair pulling ways and all. He looks down at his little girl, wondering if she's just feeling chilly from the weather or something like that. She's never been this quiet before besides her earlier months of being with him and it was out of shyness. Did she feel a bit intimated by the new face all of the sudden?

Who was still here and is waiting for his reply. Right.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sommerset," he finally says, looking up to give her a smile. "Sorry if Margie is acting a bit weird. Guess she's a bit tuckered out from seeing other people today. People are pretty charmed by here and I can't blame them when they see this cutie."

He pokes her nose and, finally, he gets a response with how she blinks and wiggles, smiling up at him blissfully. There she is.

Ahh there we go, he has some instincts at the very least. She watches him pull his child back and her expression is amused, smile still there. He protects her well for a human. How interesting the fae mother has left so much to chance.

"The pleasure is surely mine, Mr Brown." She replies, her eyes drifting back down to the child who watches her as well as she can until her father boops her nose and the her attention leaves the fae to return to the most important person in her life.

"I might know some professors at Oxford." She offered him. "They would have access to texts not as easy to obtain by standard means. If you wish, I can see what they might recommend." No lies at all. She might know people, then again she might not. But she could certainly get some very good books. The question was, would he have anything worth offering. She would very much like to get to know him, and by extension his child. But she is careful to keep her interest hidden behind a bland expression.

While Margaret stays safe in his arms, distracted by the buttons of his shirt and the warmth he radiated, he can't help but slip on his best bartender face when she makes the offer: Impassive and stoic, a little bit suspicious but not turning down the offer right off the bat.

Seems too good to be true and he remembers what Pops told him about deals and suckers.

"I bet you wanna have something in return for doing that sort of thing for a stranger you just met, miss." Especially someone stunning as her for someone like him. "I'm just a bartender down at Haringey takin' care of the family business."

Haringey? It happens to be one of the few territories in London not fully claimed by a faction yet. Rather, its still being fought over by vampires and werewolves and the two rivals are at a stalemate. The fact he nor his family haven't yet run face-to-face with the supernatural yet despite those circumstances says something about their luck or something more, potentially.

And caution seemed to have taken over completely judging by that expression. She lifts her hand, touching her finger to her lower lip as though considering his demand. "I'm sure we could find some way for you to return the favor if you like." She shrugged a shoulder and let her hand fall to her lap again. "Haringey indeed? I am giving to understand there has been some tension in the area. Do stay safe."

She lifted up her small handbag and opened it, shifting her phone out of the way to pull out a small business card. It had her name (Sommerset) and cellular phone number with a snowflake separating the two and she held it out to him.

"Think on it. Let me know at your leisure Mr. Brown." She smiled at the little girl, "Miss Margarete, it was lovely to meet you." Her eyes lifted to Matthew as well, "And your father as well."

He hesitates for a second as he reaches out to take her business card because this feels kinda like opening Pandora's Box for some reason. Whether it was from being a parent to a simple case of the butterflies, Matthew thought to himself maybe he shouldn't accept this and the possible offer up. Something inside tells him that if he does that, there's no turning back.

Except Margaret makes an inquistive peep against him and it reminds him he has a lot of questions and very little answers.

So the card soon finds its way in his palm when the moment of pause leaves him be, his green eyes scanning the innocent icy blue ink that seems to hold more than appears. "Hope to see you soon, Ms. Sommerset."

Though, he thinks, Margaret will be staying back at his apartment next time. That's for sure.

Her lips curl up at the corners and she stands up, her eyes drifting once more to the child before she nods at Matthew. Then she moves away, heeled shoes clicking on the sidewalk with purposeful strides. She does not look back.

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Test Drive Meme: June 2015

The park

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Assuming the parenthisis was out loud but muttered

It is!

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