thetube | Test Drive Meme: August 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.)

For prospective players: Thinking about bringing a character to the game? Feel free to comment to our Potential CR Planning meme for OOC planning and discussion.

Here are some prompts to inspire you:

1) BABY COME BACK. Is there someone you miss? Maybe you've come to visit for the first time in months. Maybe you'll even stay.

2) FULL MOON. (29th August) 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?

3) CARNIVAL. (30th-31st August) It's the August bank holiday weekend and that can only mean one thing: the Notting Hill Carnival! With the sun high in the sky, enjoy the parade, the music and of course the food. Jerk chicken, anyone?

4) SPECIAL EFFECTS. There's nothing like a touch of subtle magic to add to the occasion. Dress up and show off. Mind you, there could be other supernatural types around who see straight through your tricks.

5) PARTY ALL NIGHT. It's not over when the sun goes down. Get yourself to one of the bars or after-parties and keep on partying. Just don't drink too much. You know it makes it harder to control your powers... and your urges.

6) BRAWL. The police work hard to keep London's gangs away from Carnival. When you have supernatural gangs to contend with, their job gets a whole lot harder. Drunk and disorderly or simply looking for an excuse to cause trouble, encounters between rival factions can soon become hostile. Now are you here to cause a fight or to stop it?

7) NIGHT IN JAIL. Oops. What did you do? And who's that with you?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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At first, he thought she was being wry about it, joking; witches often had better and more dubious means for money than simple prostitution, and he would know, he once took part in most of them. She looked startlingly young. But then, how long had it been since he moved in that world? Perhaps he wouldn't have been surprised, when he was her age.

He tipped his head in mild agreement, but his eyebrows had gone up. She'd shocked the old man-- congratulations. "One would think."

He touched his glasses, for something to do. Tried not to look her up and down in surprise. "At least the festivities will be... quieter, by the time we're back among them." A good thing for him: this has been more chaos in one night than he can typically stand. Perhaps less for... whatever she was up to. A business, a ritual, vampires? He really shouldn't care.

CARNIVAL

It's the sort of thing you don't talk about. There wasn't a decent support group for it, no way to really bring it up. It felt like every conversation was a bombshell waiting to be dropped, "I killed someone when I was sixteen." never found a way into daily conversations, but it also never seemed to leave the back of his mind.

Like a skeleton in the closet, only the skeleton wasn't quite there yet and there was just some sort of putrid smell that rolled out of the door. Something... dark, and morbid, and something that Tavros had ultimately decided that it could stay there while he put distance between himself and all his problems.

No skeletons in his closet. Not at all.

Only a missing father with a bigger secret then he ever anticipated, a lengthy court battle in progress over his guilt in an accident he didn't remember causing, and a hospital bill that came with a whole new slew of problems he didn't know how to handle. Great. Fantastic. The monthlies that came with it weren't great either, and Tavros had done what he'd done best:

He ran.

He ran, and ran, and kept running. They'd packed up and relocated to the countryside and tried to figure it out on their own.

It was easier not to talk about it. Move around. Shuffle his way hither and thither and pretend that he was just your average, everyday highschool dropout with an uncanny knack for dog wrangling. He liked doing what he did, just drifting from town to town, making friends and dropping connections, keeping a healthy distance to avoid repeating past mistakes.

Coming to the epicenter of it all wasn't really in the cards, but here he was none the less. Sipping a drink and drumming his fingers nervously against the table. All six foot five of him huddled over around a froofy drink that's more juice than vodka. It takes a lot to get him drunk... And he doesn't particularly want to be there, but a hotel is a hotel and his car needs some repairs. Might as well get it done cheap where he knows where to go.

"It's, uh, a pretty nice night, don't you think?"

BRAWL

Oh.

Crap.

"Could you not," Tavros tries to say, ducking a hearty swing at his head with an awkward stumble. His legs were never what they should've been. Not after the accident. "Do that, please? I would," another stagger, "really rather not, do this right now."

But it's useless. His upper lip curls into a snarl as he feigns off another hit, trying to avoid lashing out. It's just a sad little drunk thinking they're more than they are, nothing to lose and everything to prove. He's not aggressive by nature (not at this side of the full moon, at least) and stumbles back.

He turns at the closest passerby, shooting a pleading look. Help, please?

Edited 2015-09-07 02:49 (UTC)

Mina has spent the entirety of her morning on this Carnival day attending and supervising the Children's Parade, monitoring her elementary school class as they participate in the festivities, assisting with their costumes and keeping them in line as they perform twirling dance routines.

Toward the end of the day, though, after the children have been collected by their parents and the festivities are still going strong, she sheds her light sweater to reveal her spaghetti-strap sundress and changes into heels. Her aim is to revel in the Carnival's nightlife a bit, sample the food and liquor, and check out some of the live music. She's sipping a cup of Carribbean rum punch in one hand, nibbling on a sleeve of fried plantains in the other, and turns her head briefly in the direction of a steel drum band — and unfortunately away from the path she's headed.

Which, although he side-steps her bodily, is smack into Ezio's polished oxford shoe, over which she goes sprawling in a most ungainly fashion toward the pavement with a shriek.

[ Lucky for Karkat, the guard is much bigger than him and he's much too shaken by this whole catastrophe that he doesn't get much further than 'he's right over there paying as we speak, give me a break you-' before Sollux is done. And he shuts his mouth with a near comical click of his teeth. The guard's face is turning red.

He's on Sollux's arm again. It's safe there. He's not stupid, he won't test danger twice. ]

Fine fine, all the nuggethhhh you can cram in the damp garbage disposal you call a mouth, whatever. Just get me out of here.

No, you damn well should not. I'm guessing from that question that this is your first time, right? You're not supposed to ask people what they did.

[ It's hilarious that Karkat thinks using knowledge he's picked up from the grapevine will help in any way (he learns a lot from his Prison Lesbians show) and even more hilarious that he assumes his cell-buddy isn't familiar with Life Behind The Bars when the situation is painfully ironic; he is in fact less familiar than the old guy is and yet proclaims to know the most. Oh, Karkat. If you weren't so pathetic it would probably be funny.

For all his outspokeness, Karkat has somehow up until this point managed to avoid being thrown in the slammer, but as far as he's concerned he thinks that divulging that particular shred of information will make him a target and therefore he'll lie through his teeth if it will make him seem less vulnerable.

He needs to stop thinking of this holding cell as a cell in Alcatraz, and he needs to stop looking smug or it's going to burn twice as much when/if Giles calls him out. ]

[Her Majesties dues paid, Sollux manages to wrestle his headphones back around his neck one handed - the other is in Karkat's strangle hold - and with a last, casual salute to the officer on duty, navigates them out of the station without much fan fair.]

Tho all that talk about never inthulting my teeth again wath tho much hyperbole. Glad you're making the motht of your freedom, KK.

[It's late enough to start being considered early and Sollux idly checks his phone - a text from Mituna, two from dad - and gauges the time it'll take for him to catch the night bus and get home.]

You heading home?

[ The exploding light makes him jump, and combined with the juddering pace of the carriage Karkat is starting to feel Less Than Safe standing on the seat like he is. He gets down with his hands raised, appeasing whatever deity it was that made the bulb go boom because he is not experienced enough to even consider connecting it's dramatic death with the dead girl in front of him.

She said his name and now there's literally no denying it. He's half way to some emotionally befuddled reunion when she speaks up again, and he's momentarily stunned by the question. ]

Knew wh- [ Shit. ] I- [ Shit shit shit. Either he has to fess up or come up with some logical reason for a) being able to see her, and b) explaining why he knew her spirit was still hanging around her old haunts. Shiiiiiiiiit. ] I.. knew I wasn't alone in this carriage. [ Good save. It doesn't explain why he's so calm about talking to a ghost, but good attempt, Karkat. ] I kept feeling like someone was watching me, and I was just about to blow the whistle on whatever homeless scrap was about to make this tube line into a major meat train fiasco, but. It's you.

[ Yep. It's Aradia. His dead friend. That sure is A Thing. Karkat stares for a minute, then swallows. ] You're a, uh.. Ghost, right? Either I've been spiked and I'm freaking out half way back to some lunatic's digs so he can do with me as he will, or you're a ghost.

[ Karkat is clinging to the little baggie of his personal belongings the guard shoved into his arms on the way out, incredulous with his past self and how he'd been about to wave sayonara to the station without his phone, his keys, his oyster card or his money. Good job, Karkat. You're an adult. ]

Yeah- probably. I think. God, I'd kiss the ground if I wasn't petrified I'd catch mouth-diarrhoea from this shit hole. I feel like that singing nun when she finally escapes the convent and runs away to marry the rich asshole with plastic hair and too many gremlins. [ Karkat is looking around like he hasn't seen the outside world for days, acting as though his sentence had been more than an overnight stay, and he... really doesn't look ready to face the tube home.

He looks back to his companion. Apparently he wasn't really listening to what Sollux said if his next words are anything to go by. ]

Wanna go for a coffee?

[ Karkat squints so hard his face almost ruptures into a black hole. He lost track of the dick metaphor as soon as it was mentioned, but now he's even more lost because he's not certain if he's sucking dicks now or if he missed out on sucking dicks, and whether or not he should feel good or bad about that. ]

Are you high right now, is that it? [ He says like he doesn't know that Dave is always like this. ] If I won then yes I'd be a drunken prick and an insult to everyone who knows how to use a toothbrush and a bar of soap but at least I'd be content with my shaved head, ugly faded tattoos and worn out, colour-coordinated adidas tracksuit-- and most importantly I wouldn't be sitting here listening to you ferment my braincells with your penis analogy, so as far as the dick sucking goes, I think this sucks more dicks than winning the fight would because Mr Scott Free is currently sitting in the reception area with a glass of water waiting for a taxi!

[ He points with his hand in the vague direction of the reception area. Just to cement his argument. Luckily for Karkat and his twitching short fuse, Dave's next comment is much easier to translate, and he gladly abandons their loud conversation about genitals in favour of it. ]

I called Sollux and gave him an asthma attack so at this point, who fucking knows.

[ Karkat isn't slow on the uptake, how dare you. It's just that Nepeta has been away for a fair while, and after so long you stop expecting the tackling and start to breathe easy as the streets finally feel safe again. That's why the screech that comes out of Karkat's mouth is as genuine and mortifying as it can possibly get.

He goes flying, because as small as Nepeta might be Karkat is not big enough to withstand that amount of speed and strength all at once without any warning, and ends up on his face on the side of the road, daaaangerously close to but not actually in a mucky puddle. How considerate. ]

Nep-hhhh--- [ Wheeeeze, his chest is pretty much caving in from where she's sprawled on him. He's so weak. ] I'm not- not a damn- plaything, will you-- I can't-- Get offfFFFF!!!

This guy's aura stinks. Like, really stinks. Karkat can actually smell something that smells like bad breath and damp-mould, and he's not certain if it's the aura or the bar they're sitting in, but... Either way, it's pretty worrying.

Usually he steers clear of auras like this one; nothing good has ever come from testing the water in this way, and he isn't experienced enough to know what to expect, but... Something is ebbing from the awkwardly hunched form that makes Karkat feel.... Feelings. Feelings that made following him here seem like a great idea, but uncertain feelings that he can't quite put a name to, that swirl and blur when he tries to focus in a little more. If he had even the slightest amount of training, he'd probably be much better at this. He'd probably be able to help.

He's just about to give up and leave when the guy speaks up, and Karkat looks at him with an owlish expression.

"Uh." He glances outside. "Not really. It's too humid."

Edited (i totally messed up my format and my tense, im so sorry???) 2015-09-07 12:52 (UTC)

She's going to take that as one hell of a win.

"World's oldest profession my ass." She sighed grumpily. If he wanted to look her up and down, well, she was used to it. Came with the territory, after all.

She considers this for a moment. "In the morning? Yeah." She didn't have money for bail, unfortunately, and her phone-call wasn't to procure that. "Though you don't look the sort to run around looking for this sort of excitement, if you don't mind me saying." He looked like a sweet, older man, all glasses and sweaters. He probably thought tea was the highlight of the day, and only got better with a good book.

She could respect that.

"What's your name?"

Nancy, for all of her connections, never had bail money. She'd use her phone call to ensure that a certain fae made sure to use his own connections to wipe her name from all systems, destroying her files. The British government didn't know that Nancy existed, and she'd like to keep it that way, truthfully.

This is what happens when you're the first-born child promised.

Usually, she waited until they released her, and waltzed out of the precinct like it was no big deal. This, however, is unusual.

The officer still has her hands cuffed behind her back, but once they're at the desk, he effortlessly removes them. "Ezio," she breathes, accepting her purse from the desk. "To what do I owe this surprise?" Her relationship with Ezio was... something, to put it lightly. But she never imagined that he'd have been the one to bail her out of jail.

Which... shit. "I was supposed to meet you." Don't get arrested for prostitution, kids. Just don't.

It's not, actually. But there's usually not a child wearing a rut into the floor.

[ A bit harsh. It's been an exceedingly long day.

Still: he spent the night somewhere very much like here, when he was the boy's age or a bit older. Scrapes on his knuckles, a well-earned bloody nose, possibly still coming down off something the police never could have recognized. It was after everything went to hell and his coven dissolved, before he returned to Daybreak, back when he still kept his guitar on his back because it'd be stolen if he ever set it down.

He had sulked and radiated an air of don't even try until morning, and then a bandmate had come to bail him out, and he didn't hear the end of it for weeks. Not long before he left that scene, actually.

Now he sits, rolls back his sleeves to check a scratch on his wrist-- he likes this shirt, the less blood the better-- and looks only lightly irritated at the world. ]

I was attempting to lessen the chaos. Look how that went.

[ She giggles, only a little sorry, and this is where she'd sprawl out on someone and go ragdoll-dead weight, but it's Karkat so she doesn't. Even with the temptation to nuzzle into his cute messy hair, which would count as a kind of hug.

Karkat is just so cute, he's so cute. The surprised noise! The pinned-prey flop onto the pavement! It's all cute. Cute in the impossibly charming, totally-perfect way, not cute like kittens. But also a little bit cute like kittens.

So she does sit up-- does Karkat not usually have girls perched on his back, oh well, that's why he needs Nepeta around-- and then rolls, with catlike grace, off him and bounces up to standing. She even offers a hand up in apology. Not Equius-level, but she can still toss a normal (nearly-)human around without a thought. ]

Oh my gosh Karkat it has been so long it's so good to see you! I was trying not to stalk you that quietly. [ This is helpful. ]

Edited (then watch me immediately edit) 2015-09-07 18:05 (UTC)

"Oh," Tavros spares a glance out the window, swirling his drink thougtfully in a way that was neither particularly cultured or cool. "Yeah, I guess that I can feel that. But I sort of, like the humidity."

He brings the drink to his lips thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps it'll storm. A storm wouldn't be that bad, really. Clear the air. Make everything feel new again. If he were slightly more attune to his surroundings, he may have noticed the other lingering with a sense of purpose. Instead, he just stares with glazed eyes out at the crowds.

At least, until he plays the voice back in his head.

Then he nearly drops the drink (cotton candy martini, he's pretty sure, but he's had better) and stares.

"Karkat?"

"Nancy," he returns politely, waiting for her to collect her things. His gaze ticks down briefly, the state of her clothing and the abundance of visible skin drawing the eye. She smells like work under her faded perfume, men and blood and the institutional scent of the jail itself.

Ezio transfers his phone to his hip pocket, shrugging off his blazer to pull over her shoulders and whisk her away without a glance behind.

"I was concerned when you did not call," he tells her as they're on their way out. Stepping ahead with his wider stride, he holds the door for her. Nothing to see here, just picking up his hooker friend.

The blazer nearly dwarfs her, but she accepts it without another thought. "Thank you," she said as she stepped under his arm and through the door. Once outside, though, she speaks more freely.

"I'm sorry- I can pay back the bail, I wasn't expecting anyone to pay it let alone know where I was." She falls into step with him, having to take extra long strides to keep up.

"You really didn't have to do any of this."

Well she had been heading toward the pavement, but she'll find her pitched tumble has been arrested by the very strong arm around her waist. Her punch is a total loss, a spatter of sticky red across the pavement that narrowly misses his denim, but it's better than a broken ankle or a busted face.

"Careful!" Ezio cautions, holding the woman until he's sure she's steady on her feet. It means he gets a good measure of her while they're close, the way he can feel her warmth bleeding through her clothes. "That might have been nasty."

Tavros is fairly certain he's never seen that much bedazzling in one place. That takes time, effort, and worst of all, a complete dedication to the art. A devil may care attitude is something he almost can't help but admire! Especially out in public like this. It's almost admirable.

Almost.

It does make him feel pretty plain. While the bright stranger is all dressed up, he's sitting in a greasy t-shirt and muddy jeans. Definitely not carnival attire... Maybe he should have changed? Mm. Too late now.

He's about to turn back around and go right back to minding his own business when the stranger catches him staring. Caught off guard, the best thing he musters is a startled: "What?"

1) Baby Come Back

England was never his home. After Napoleon, he'd visited. Once to attend the funeral of an old acquaintance he'd felt the need to make sure was dead. The reign of Victoria had been an interesting time to see the city, too. The repression and artistic movements and politics had been intriguing. Still, the little island was often dull. He had too much of a mind for war, his dominus had accused him of more than once.

It was too intoxicating. The lies and secrets and tension of war coupled with the physique of a well-trained soldier tied his passion to ages of violence.

His beloved France fed him well throughout many decades. America had tempted him away in the middle of the nineteenth century. Brother killing brother, a nation turned on itself. The whispers and secrets and sex could still rouse his interest even in memory. When the world wars came... Well, that had been an entirely new experience.

Still, he was in England.

His first point of business was to observe Respect. To present himself before those most influential in the city and ask for succor. Which was why he stood where he did, masking his impatience with roving eyes.

5) Party All Night

"What are you doing alone and without a drink? Allow me to remedy both, mon ami."

If there was one thing Gaspard Laurent knew, it was how to play the charming foreigner. It was one of the few reasons he ever left France. Besides, it was time for a century or two of a new setting.

And where there was a party, there he was. When alcohol flowed and people crammed together, he was at home. Secrets fluttered through the air, and sex permeated the atmosphere. Combining both and the prospect of a warm meal made him feel almost alive again.

Attractive men were never hard to find. Ones that might be interesting were a little more difficult. Ones that might be useful were rare. This one, at least, fit the first category and seemed to have potential for the second. For the third... He'd have to see.

8) Wildcard

Hit me with anything you want!

[BRAWL]

Normally, she wouldn't bother intercepting a fight. It's not her business, and if people want to get injured in a pub over some perceived slight, who is she to stand in their way? Normally, however, when a bar brawl breaks out it's usually just fists flying, instead of the ill-restrained magic of disorderly supernaturals.

And she quite likes this place.

There's two instigators currently, but there's enough tension in the room for that to escalate rapidly, and she'll have none of that. There's an icy snap, and one of said instigators is frozen - both in surprise, and literally. Vivienne stands from her seat by the widow, wine in hand and seemingly unconcerned as she moves toward the other party. "I do suggest you take this elsewhere," she says, softly but not quiet, "this is no way to behave in such a lovely establishment."

[JAIL]

As if Vivienne de Fer of the Parisian Sorcières de l'Aube would spend a night in a musty cell in London.

An hour or two is indignity enough, until a phonecall has her released with incredible haste. She's currently sat in the waiting area, checking her handbag with an icy calm, making sure nothing has been damaged or even taken during this brief and humiliating situation. If the officers in the room seemed none to pleased to have her here in the first place, they look even less so now.

Perhaps it may be because of the conversation earlier, which Vivienne made no attempt to keep secret. It's not unlikely that one might've heard her making comments about "unlawful imprisonment," and "the brute who detained her." Or even her assurances that she wasn't going anywhere until her solicitor arrived.

Or maybe it just seems a little rude to imply that anyone would've taken her things.

"Je suis très désolé de vous avoir fait attendre," said a young man who arrived with the solicitor. He offered his hand to the imperial woman with a polite bow. "Madame?"

Witches and vampires were not often associated with one another, no, but Gaspard Laurent made a point of knowing anyone who mattered. And Madame de Fer? Was a woman who mattered. She was an individual around whom the world would change. Those were the people he associated himself with. The ones he kept in the presence of and whom he liked to keep the favour of. Besides, they often found a use for him, as well.

And now, he was quite content to breeze in with the solicitor and conduct her away with due pomp but without anything flashy that would suggest shame or scandal. That she had been involved in this at all was a slight to the name of England's police, and he'd make sure that was known. But at present, he played the valet perfectly.

Cooper should know better than to let himself be taken in by a smooth talker. Let's face it. Most men interested in a scrawny seventeen year old dressed in motorcycle leathers and construction boots were looking for nothing good. He raised a skeptical eyebrow and looked Gaspard up and down. Nope. He will remain immune to the Frenchman...for now, at least.

"I'll take the drink. Not so sure 'bout the company. You look like the kind of man my mother warned me about." Indeed, Mam Cooper was probably rolling in her grave right now with what Cooper was even thinking about.

Gaspard laughed a little, sounding completely unoffended. A better look at him showed a man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. And with one particularly individual aspect: his right eye was an icy blue while the left was a mild brown.

"My apologies, my apologies. I suppose I am still far more used to the Parisian introductions."

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Page 4 of 16

Test Drive Meme: August 2015

VERY BELATEDLY I was on hiatus I'm so sorry

tavros nitram | homestuck | werewolf

[ carnivale, baby. ]

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it's okay, i'm sorry enough for the both of us

i'm so there for this, i'm sorry it took me so long to hit you up

sneaks this in here

don't worry! I haven't been around all weekend.

/stalks stalks stalks. I say jail. 'cause.

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shh no you are perfect

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tch bad child

I know, I know

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carnival

Gaspard Laurent - OC - vampire

Vivienne | Dragon Age | Daybreak Witch

I am so sorry about the Google Translate French

5

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