thetube | Test Drive Meme: Feb/March 2016

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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) COMMON PEOPLE. What do normal Londoners do every day anyway? Sometimes you just want to blend in with everyone else. Make friends with humans. Talk about the weather. Go on, try it.

2) PENTHOUSE SUITE. But wait. Maybe you want to see how the other half live. The elite of the elite. You've been lucky enough to be asked to a meeting, or a luncheon, or a date. Find out what the most powerful people in London are really like.

3) GET OUT YOU FILTH. Supernatural prejudice is a regrettable fact of life in London. It doesn't matter what you are, there's someone out there who hates you because of it. They'll shun you, heckle you, even hunt you down and kill you. Of course, you're probably not immune to a few prejudices yourself.

4) SPEED DATING. Oh god. Why did you sign up to this. You should have known it was a bad idea when someone mentioned it was supernatural speed dating. Help.

5) THE REAL UNDERGROUND. Down in the darkest corners of the Tube, there are supernatural vagrants of all kinds, especially vampires. That friendly busker may well be a fae. That girl waiting for the next train is a ghost. Once you've seen it, you can't escape from it.

6) IN THE SUPERMARKET. On the other hand, you never know what you might find just walking around your local supermarket. You haven't forgotten how to do normal things like groceries, right?

7) A CURSED EXISTENCE. Maybe you literally are cursed. Maybe you just feel like it sometimes. There are things you can't do, weaknesses that normal humans aren't subject to, but they make everyday life in London that little bit more difficult. Try not to get too mad about it.

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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That's not an effect Natasha usually has on people. She eases back a little, her body language shifting to something a little more reserved. Not cold, certainly not hostile, but a bit withdrawn. The way someone might back away from a skittish stray cat.

"That's quite a while to be away from your home. Especially if you don't get out much." She considers leaving it there; the best way to discourage other people not to dig into your own past was to stay out of theirs. But the conversation had to go somewhere, and she doesn't pretend she's not curious.

"Was it your job that brought you here?"

A skittish, stray, cat was not far off the mark. The pull back she did helped and in short order he was picking at his jeans again, shoulders relaxing as he shook his head, "Nah. Got the job after. Bike shop willing to sponsor me for an extended visa. Wasn't sure if I was going to stay when I first got out here. But it's a nice place. Different. Ain't never lived in a city before this."

Daryl adjusted himself in his seat, putting his free arm over the back of the chair and getting just a little more comfortable. His eyes moved from her hands and to her face, still mostly hidden by his bangs, a little more interested in talking now, "What about you? You grow in the city? Whatever city you're from?"

"For the most part—one city or another. I was from Volgograd originally." She watches his expression, or what she can make out of it, for recognition. In her experience, even after all these decades, that still wasn't the name most Americans knew.

"After that, Moscow mostly." She bows her head, giving a slightly more self-deprecating smile. "Maybe I should have gone to the country. That would have been a real change... but I think I'm a city girl at heart."

Vampires tended to be, for one reason or another. More warm bodies. Better night life. Less risk of werewolves, usually, though that didn't always hold true.

There was no recognition from him. Daryl fit a lot of stereotypes and that was yet another one of them. He had limited knowledge of the world, though he was trying to expand his horizons. But Moscow he did know.

"You're a long way from home, too," he said, lifting his chin as he sniffed hard. His nose crinkled and he gave another sniff, slightly longer, as he tried to figure out what it was he was smelling just then. Another moment and he shook his head to shake it off. The whole event was supposed to be for those of the supernatural bent. All the scents mixing were playing with his head.

After another second, his lips twitched up playfully, "Not sure you'd do good in the country. Most city folk don't know shit about how to live without all the noise."

He seems to be relaxing a little. That's something. She notices the sniff and it supports her growing suspicions; she was confident she could have spotted a werewolf and a werewolf definitely would have made her the moment he sat down. Shifters, on the other hand, were trickier. More variety and more control.

"I think maybe my feeling should be hurt by that," she responds lightly, making it clear she's in on the joke. "I could surprise you."

Then, after a pause to let the mood settle, she adds with more interest, "Is it really the noise that's the biggest difference?"

"It's a big part of it," he answered with sincere honesty, chin lifting some more so he could start looking her in the eye. She seemed pretty genuine to him and that helped him feel more comfortable with the conversation.

"Gas station in town got a lot of people from the city coming through during the biggest part of the hunting season. Every year, a bunch of folks who wanted to play at being Elmer Fudd in these big corporate retreats or just for the hell of it 'cause they could... not one of those assholes knew how to mind their own business, so any time they'd see someone who looked like they lived around there, they'd go on up to them and just start talking."

Daryl lifted both hands up in light mockery as his voice went slightly higher pitched, "Good lord almighty! How do you live out here without going crazy? The crickets been keeping me up all night. And the birds in the morning! Better than an alarm clock, I must say, but I was hoping to sleep in not be rousted with the rising of the sun!"

He made a sound that somewhere between a snicker and a chuckle, face breaking out in a full grin while he laughed at himself. His hands dropped back, relaxing once more as he got control of himself by pressing his lips together in a tight line. It did nothing to stop the smile.

"Most could probably adapt to an outhouse or a squat in the woods, but it's the noise that ends up making things really stand out. In the city you got all the cars at every hour of the day. Sirens, car alarms, strays fighting, howling, or caterwauling... people walking home drunk at all hours, making a fuss. In the country, even if you live close to a town, you ain't got all that. Once the moon's up high, unless you got a party going, it's just you and the night. Get out far enough and it's just you and the day, too."

"I see how it is." Her response is clearly amused by this. Hard to take it personally when she knew what he was saying wasn't really about her. And he was opening up. A few seconds ago, she wouldn't have expected that many words to come out of him during their whole eight minutes, let along all in one go like that. Who's she to discourage that.

"It's not that you think us city types are too soft for it, we're just too... what would you even call that?" She tilts her head a little, as though considering just the right word. "I want to say obnoxious, but maybe it's just restless."

Her fingers tap lightly on the rim of her glass as she watches his poorly concealed smile.

"I'm Natasha, by the way."

Daryl actually liked chatting, the problem was getting to the point he felt safe doing so. Like he wasn't being a bother or just another body to ignore. He hadn't gotten to do a lot of it before, he just didn't like being the center of attention in big groups. One on one... he could sort of do that. It was nice, actually, to feel like she was really paying attention and interested in what he had to say. The smile he was hiding got less hidden.

"Daryl," he exchanged with a polite nod, "And it ain't so much that city folks are obnoxious, it's that a lot of time they got these assumptions and are moving so fast they don't take time to learn how things are different. They don't stop and listen. Look around, watch. They just barrel on through like they own the world. Right up until the world sends something to bite them in the ass."

After a moment's consideration, he shrugged, "You might do okay."

"Oh, if there's one thing you learn being Russian, it's that the world is always going to send something out to bite you on the ass." Or maybe just by living long enough. Either way, Natasha shrugs it off as a joke, playing the role.

It's not bad, just chatting. Especially with Daryl relaxing.

"You learn to adapt to it, or you won't make it too far. Not in the city or the country."

"What's it like in Russia?" Daryl asked, curious and expression opening with the genuine interest. "All I know about it is you shouldn't try to invade in winter, the people tried to kill that Rasputin guy like six times before it stuck, and Baba Yaga gets ferried everywhere in a hut that runs around on chicken legs."

His eyes narrowed and that smirk widened just a tad, "She's real, ain't she?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow at that. It's a big question, and there are a lot of answers she could give that skirted dangerously close to questions she'd rather not have asked in the first place, let alone be expected to answer. She's not worried, exactly. She just keeps to the flow of conversation—keeps it light.

"I don't know, sounds like you have a lot of the important parts," she tells him with mock seriousness. "Rasputin was a little before my time though. As for Baba Yaga..." The name sounds a little different with her accent, more familiar, though only from stories. "Well, we're here aren't we?"

Who's to say the witch wasn't too?

Daryl snorted again, looking away and lifting a hand to cover his mouth for a moment. He liked her sense of humor. Just dry enough. More than he'd expected to get out of the night. Made it not as much of a waste of time as he'd thought it would be.

"Yeah, maybe," he trailed off as he eyed her for a long moment, shyness making it's way into him. He wasn't really good at the whole socializing thing and their time limit was coming up fast.

"You uh... you like motorcycles?"

"What if I do?" There's something in her smile that makes it very clear she does. She could call it one of the few things she enjoys that's not complicated somehow. Motorcycles, fast cars, things like that.

"Would you invite me to come by your work?"

"Hell, no," Daryl laughed as his thumb found it's way to his mouth. He allowed himself a moment to chew on it as his eyes fell and fought the sudden embarrassment, "I'd invite you for a ride sometime. There's some places outside the city. They ain't really country, but they're close. Don't gotta slow down for lights. Pretty nice."

"That sounds nice."

Nice, but unlikely. Her smile remains, though it turns a little sad. Probably she was leading him on. Didn't seem like a big deal when it was mostly playing—flirting got complicated, but it was something else she found she could still mostly enjoy.

"I don't suppose you were picturing this ride happening at night."

Daryl stilled, eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Night time rides were not something he usually did. It was difficult to really see the details of the world. And it seemed odd to him for anyone to want that specifically.

He dropped his hand from his face and brought his arms to the table as he leaned in toward her for the first time. Made it obvious as he took a long sniff of the air between them and his blue eyes shifted visibly from the normal human pupils to the slitted ones of a cat. The change didn't last long. Just enough to confirm the suspicion the request had brought to mind, being as this was an event for those who were not-quite human.

When he leaned back again, he did so with his eyes steady on her. One arm slung over the back of his chair. Daryl didn't have any personal interactions with vampires to sour his opinion of them, nor had he grown up with a group that was particularly wary of their kind. Maybe if his mother had lived longer he would have learned such prejudice. But that lack of social context didn't mean he wasn't cautious. Vampires were dangerous to everyone. It was just a fact. And letting himself out alone with one on a midnight ride into the country could prove very dangerous.

Still, she had been nice to talk to. Which was a first for him in a lot of ways.

"Guess it could," he finally said with a shrug. "Harder to find clear nights so it's easier to see everything, but I don't suppose that would be much of a problem for you."

Edited 2016-04-15 14:59 (UTC)

"No," she agrees. "It's not much of a problem for me."

Which confirmed her suspicion as well. There hadn't been a lot of doubt left in her mind, but you could never tell. Especially when metahumans came in almost infinite varieties. It was always good to know for sure what you were dealing with.

So she supposed they were about even now, at least in that respect.

"That almost sounds like it's still an invitation." Natasha hadn't been expecting that. It had happened already more than once tonight, people would shy away once they made her for a vampire—sometimes even walk away. It was expected at this point.

But while his attitude had changed, he didn't seem put off.

Daryl stayed quiet for a decent stretch after she said that. Juggling the pros and cons in his mind before shaking his head and relaxing into the chair.

"Hell, why not?" he asked. "Ain't like we don't both know the score."

After another moment, he smirked at her and glanced down at his lap, some of that shyness coming back to him, "'sides, you the only one got me to laugh all night."

Her smile in response to that is a little more genuine. It had been intentional, trying to draw him out, but there was satisfaction in doing what she'd set out t do.

It was also nice to add another name to the short list of people who were willing to at least give her a chance after they figured out what she was. On it's own, that would have been a small success, even if she wasn't entirely sure how she should measure it.

"In that case, I should give you my number."

He glanced up at her, biting at his lower lip in lieu of his thumb. He hadn't thought to bring anything to write on. All those 'suggestion' cards had long since been tossed away because he found them stupid. His bad.

But he did have the pen he stuck in his breast pocket out of habit for work. After a moment of looking around, he drug that out and leaned forward, offering one well-muscled arm to her along with the pen.

Daryl outright blushed and did his best to hide it by ducking his head and letting his hair cover his face, voice very soft and more nervous than he'd ever admit, "Sorry. Ain't got nothin' else to write on."

Natasha laughs a little at that, short and soft, and before taking his pen in one hand and his wrist in the other. Leaning across the table again, she quickly and clearly writes the number on his skin.

Not what she had in mind, but she doesn't mind playing along with it.

"Just don't wash it off before you find a piece of paper," she says.

He nodded, a firm, if not sharp action, and pulled his arms back to himself. Right on time, the changeover was called and the people on his side of the table asked to get up and move along for the next rotation. Daryl stood, crossing his arms so he could grip the armholes of his vest and mumbled an awkward goodbye.

When he walked away, he did take the time to look back over his shoulder at her and give another smile he didn't quite hide.

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Test Drive Meme: Feb/March 2016

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