thetube | Test Drive Meme: August/September 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 and canon 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) HOUSE OF FUN. Whether it's your first time in London or you've lived here all your life, you hear that this is the place to be for someone like you. A place to let loose, have fun, and embrace your true nature, whatever that may be.

2) THE LION'S DEN. And this is not the place to be. This is the enemy's camp and if they catch you...

3) IT'S QUICKER IF YOU RUN. So here's the game: you run, they chase. You might even escape, with a bit of luck... or maybe some help.

4) THE GREAT BRITISH BAKE-OFF. Be inspired and make some cupcakes, attend a cake sale, or try home-baking with your friends. Who says supernatural creatures can't have a sweet tooth?

5) SUMMER = BBQ. Another great British tradition: the moment the sun appears, it's time to get out the barbecue and enjoy some slightly-burnt burgers and hotdogs. With summer fading, what are you waiting for?

6) THE CHEMIST. Even creatures of the night occasionally require a visit to the pharmacy. Bit awkward when you recognise a fellow supernatural being waiting for a prescription though...

7) STUCK ON THE TUBE. The Underground would like to apologise for the delay to this service. It's probably a signal failure. Not a supernatural trap or anything, nope.

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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1) HOUSE OF FUN.

Daylen has no idea what he's doing.

He's young in both fae terms and human terms, and his experience of London is minimal to say the least. He was raised in Cumbria, and this is all rather a culture shock.

Admittedly, if he had been raised at all normally it might be less so, but that he has little control over. He's decided to come here, to the home of the Night Council, to better understand why people dislike his kind so heavily. London is certainly a hive of supernatural activity -- he can feel it all around him! -- but that doesn't make knowing where to begin at all clear. With territory belonging to fae? With somewhere more neutral?

If he looks a little dizzy as he regards the map on the wall of the station it's because he feels it.

2) THE LION'S DEN.

Daybreak territory is a little more hostile than he'd anticipated. Daylen can suppress his magic a little when he shape-shifts, but not entirely. People know what he is, and after being raised by witches he'd rather hoped witches might at least listen to him a little.

Instead, he's starting to feel somewhat like a mouse that has walked into a room full of cats.

"Please," he begins to say, and his voice is steady and yet plaintive. "Perhaps we might all sit down and discuss things?"

The witches around him do not look inclined to discuss much of anything.

3) IT'S QUICKER IF YOU RUN.

Of course, witches aren't the only problem.

As soon as Daylen successfully leaves Daybreak territory he finds he's picked rather a poor direction to go.

Vampires.

He's never met a vampire in his life, and now he's having to flee one.

On the bright side, being an expert at shape-shifting comes in handy when fleeing like this. He's taken the shape of a small black cat and is currently shooting along an alleyway to try and lose the creatures following him. In a pitched battle he has no idea how he'd do, but he'd rather not chance it. Turning into a bear in the middle of London seems unwise and all his spells are too noisy or showy. Lightning in a backstreet? Oh, of course no-one would notice that.

He nearly careens around into someone as he corners too quickly.

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!

Oh god, not this again. Finnick's seen the blank stare of many a young supernatural in London and it never fails to annoy him. They've done a good job of keeping their presence secret and it's always a pain when someone almost screws it up, so he takes it upon himself to approach the changeling and stare at the map for a minute, turning to look at him with a lazy but disdainful face.

"Lost?"

He turns as Finnick speaks up, regards him a moment curiously. He can sense him for what he is, but that doesn't really tell him how to answer the question.

"Not exactly," he answers finally. "I suppose I am trying to decide still which way to go. London is new to me, I fear it is a little overwhelming."

Which is rather obvious he supposes, given the way the other man has approached him.

Finnick looks up at the map with a vague, lazy frown. He hates these creatures that just float through town making themselves conspicuous and have no idea what they're doing. He suspects that's what he's dealing with now.

"Didn't you have a destination in mind?" he asks, managing not to sound too annoyed.

"Bromley, if I am honest, but there is so much else to see too that I became quite overwhelmed by the thought of it. The north is much quieter, the separations much less distinct. I feel as if I should explore as much as I can to understand but I know it may be unwise."

Pausing, Daylen turns away from the map to study Finnick curiously. He does not seem on the mood to answer questions, which... is unfortunate. Yet Daylen can handle that.

"I will not detain you longer than I should, is there someone you can direct me to? In Greenwich, perhaps? I fear I have a great many questions, I am incurably curious."

"There are a lot of places you aren't welcome," Finnick says quietly. "But you'll be able to feel it when you move through."

He looks around, for eavesdroppers. "Why are you in London?" he asks.

"Should I not be?" he counters, and there's a lightly teasing sort of tone to it -- but it doesn't quite reach Daylen's eyes. He's curious, and he knows well enough there are boundaries here. Daylen is used boundaries, to rules, to not being able to walk certain places. To not being able to say certain things. "If there is to be conflict here," he continues softly, "I should like to learn the hows and whys."

He does not voice his desire to him -- there's a hint of arrogance to that, he recognises, thinking he might be able to. Yet Daylen is confident in his own abilities, if only he could be given a platform to use them.

The glare of some witches only intensify at his suggestions. They're clearly uninterested in listening to what he has to say. The eldest of them, marked by her silver hair and the deep lines on her proud face, steps forward and seems to be reaching for something in her coat. Whatever it is - a phone, a wand, a mirror or whatever - will never be known.

Because then there's the sudden sound of someone clapping their hands. Loud and with bold emphasis.

Some heads turn, expressions change. Most of the witches look on chagrin and surprise at the source of the noise as she steps into full view.

With her pinned up hair and her sweet smile, the woman seems harmless enough in her smart buttoned up coat and sensible heels. Nothing really hints as to why the witches look so exasperated or annoyed at her intrusion. Unfazed by this, she clasps her hands together after she is certain that the group is (mostly) paying attention to her now.

"I'm inclined to agree with the new one," she says, sounding at her most genteel and at her most polite. Her hooded eyes warm with kindness and- Mischief? "Why not let them say their piece? I mean- So far they've been nothing but polite. They said 'please' sincerely and everything. Quite a change from certain figures, don't you think?"

It is here that she inclines her head in his direction. Perhaps hinting that it is now time to speak up.

Ah -- this could either go very well or quite poorly. Daylen hardly knows this woman well enough to know if she is giving him rope to hang himself with in her opinion or if she asks him to speak up in good faith. Still, he offers her a smile -- inclines his head a fraction in thanks.

"Thank you, miss...?"

He'd like to know who is either on his side or who to avoid if this all goes wrong, after all.

"Miriam. Feel free to call me Ms. Miriam if you'd like." The smile is a smile that promises something, whatever that maybe. Whether it be good or ill content is up in the air for now.

At the very least she's moving herself closer, positioning herself between the group and the boy as if to keep any side from getting too near the other. She waves a gloved hand of hers towards the direction of the witches, her manners lofty and fanciful and precise.

"I see you already have met my associates. Mrs. Delilah Groovesburg and her friends can be so forceful at times." The woman with silver one, the one who had been posturing threateningly earlier, now tenses with how Morcant more or less outs her with such casualness. Morcant's beatific smile stays on as she speaks, not batting an eye at how Groovesburg reacts. "Do forgive my colleagues for how quick they were to react, so to speak. You seem to have taken them by surprise."

Miss Miriam. She's sharp enough not to give her whole name to a fae, if that even is her name, and sharp enough to cut through the posturing of her companions like a hot knife through butter. She's a formidable woman, he thinks, and that is certainly a compliment.

"Daylen," he offers in turn, "and they are forgiven. I can understand their concern -- the courts have caused you a lot of trouble. I mean none of you any harm -- and you know I can't lie about that, so please." Daylen spreads his hands, palms turned up, and lofts an eyebrow. "I think we have much to talk about, if you are willing to listen. I am of the hope we can help each other."

"I suppose with some of my acquaintances here, they'll think of that as an understatement," she said, the huff of breath she gives out possibly part scoff, part laughter. He certainly had a way with words. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see one of the younger witches looking more swayed and less hostile than the rest.. That's enough to make her play a card of hers. "Seeing as you you've been nothing but cordial to us so far, I have no issue with hearing you out."

She turns and flashes a smile at the group's direction, canting her head in what's supposed to be a deferential way. "Ladies? Shouldn't we hear what he has to say?"

"Already switching allegiances, warlock?"

"Such venom," she replies with steady ease. "You know I'm affiliated with Daybreak while I'm here. Besides- If you truly don't trust him, you're free to leave. No one here is holding you hostage. I'll even do my best to be a more accommodating host with your absence."

"Fine. 'Hear' him out. Don't go crying to me or Daybreak if something befalls you or the others!"

At last Groovesburg backs down and she turns her heel, pushing her way through the group. Some follow her lead while others linger thanks to their curiosity being tickled.

'Miriam' finally looks back at him while Groovesburg's mutters become fainter and fainter, the witch showing him a quick roll of her eyes and a playful smile as if to ask, Can you believe how dramatic she's being?

Quite dramatic, yes. He jerks an eyebrow in answer, curious and wary at turns.

"I'm here to ask anyone to betray their principles, quite the opposite. Our people are at odds, but you have a bigger problem as it stands. The fae just so happen to dislike vampires as much as everyone else right now. We could help each other without breaking any laws, without anyone casting a single dark magic spell or making a deal they regret. I was under the impression Daybreak believed in helping others, in balance. Would this not be in line with that?"

It would, in Daylen's opinion. He knows he's terrible young by both fae and human calculations, but he's been raised sharp and careful. He genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone, and if he can make some witches look more kindly on the fae then that's all for the better.

He has the sense to not immediately give a reply, merely reacting to her own actions. That's good. It's a rare skill to have in this city these days.

With the other witches gone, 'Miriam' moves away and the younger witches step in closer. They listen with rapt attention, curious to see what he has to say. The moment 'vampires' passes his lips, it's clear the feelings: Some purse their lips, others look around to make sure one of them is not around.

She, on the other hand, is merely smiling a sweet smile the entire time.

"I believe that is those are their principles, yes," she agrees after apparently giving some thought to what he had to say. "Colour me intrigued. Judging by your words you've been thinking about this for quite some time. If it's safe for me to presume, of course."

Cats bounding around the streets aren't much of a thing to pay attention to honestly, if Lyna stopped to pet every cat she saw running around London she'd never get anywhere.

This one, however, practically runs right into her shins and Lyna yelps in surprise. Stumbling a little as she rights herself without stepping on it.

"What's got you all spooked, hm?" She doesn't crouch, but she does bend over to look at the cat. Feeling magic on it, (thanks dad, for the weakest meta-human powers ever,) but she assumes that means the cat belongs to a witch or something. "Is something chasing you?"

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Test Drive Meme: August/September 2016

Daylen Amell || Dragon Age || CHANGELING: OTA!

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Greenwich why did I type Greenwich I MEANT BROMLEY

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don't mind me just suddenly lost my reply for your comment and got sad

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