Test Drive Meme: October/November 2016

[undergroundmods]

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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) DEEPER UNDERGROUND. It's easy to get mired in the supernatural in London. There are places where you won't see a single normal human being. Once you've joined a coven or a pack or a nest or any of the other supernatural groups in the city, it's hard to back out.

2) IN THE SHADOWS. What is that in the corner of your eye? In that dark corner over there, was that a flicker of movement? There's definitely something. You should investigate.

3) DON'T PANIC. It's fine! So maybe you accidentally used magic in public or a creature of the night is following you down a dark alley or you can't get those blood stains out of your clothes or you're trying to work up the courage to ask someone out on a date. It'll be fine. You'll be fine.

4) SAMHAIN. (31st October) Known to the public as Halloween and to witches as Samhain, tonight is the night when all manner of supernatural creatures come out to play and the humans will be none the wiser. Of course, if you're a witch, tonight is much more serious business. The veil between the worlds is thin, and magic can easily reach through the cracks.

5) DRINKS ON YOU. (31st October) This Halloween there are a number of vampire raves taking place around London as the Islington Nest gets drunk and high on fae blood. Visitors beware: venture into the wrong place and you may well find yourself on the menu.

6) HOUSE OF HORRORS. Okay, whose stupid idea was it to venture into a haunted house tonight? Even humans are more sensitive to ghostly activity around Halloween, so let's hope the ghosts here are friendly...

7) BONFIRE NIGHT. (5th November) Remember, remember, the 5th of November. Gunpowder, treason and plot. Bonfire Night is a long-standing tradition in the UK, commemorating that time back in 1605 when Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament. (They failed.) Tonight, light a bonfire, set off some fireworks and watch your guy burn. Lovely, isn't it?

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

Comments

Wednesday Addams | Adult Wednesday Addams | Witch

[outofthemanor]

SAMHAIN
[Samhain. Wednesday's favourite holiday. The celebration of the macabre and the beautiful and for once the rest of the world acknowledges the truth she holds dear to her heart: there is glory in the darkness. Of course, her Mother and Grandmother had long since imposed on her the importance of the holiday, and she chose to celebrate it in her own solemn way; by visiting tombs of the fortunate departed and greeting those who slip between the thin veil between the worlds.]

[Of course, like any good witch, she's very aware of the magic in the air, and there's a quiet self confidence to Wednesday as she seems to welcome anyone who would look to pose as a threat to her. She will do what she has to, but nothing and no one will ruin her enjoyment of her favourite holiday]

[Blessed be to the fortunate]


BONFIRE NIGHT
[Setting an effigy of a human being on fire to commenorate a failed attempt at assassinating a King. Such a wonderful thing to celebrate, Wednesday thinks. One of her ancestors had been part of the Bonfire Plot, and his execution had been a story of great pride. He had gone into the plot because of his beliefs, something which was an important factor.]

[Still.. the fireworks themselves were rather boring. Perhaps if she was allowed to let off some dynamite...?]


WRITE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
[BYOA]

Bonfire

[melancolique]

[A shadow lurks in the dark, thin and spindly. She shouldn't be here, not so close to these humans. Not so close that she can smell…
Smell, but not taste. Never taste, not until she's allowed. Not until Papa says she might. Not even if she's so dizzy with hunger that she can barely stand up any more. He'll be furious if he found out she was feeding without him.

Except, no he wouldn't. He's let her go. Told her to get out of his sight and not to come back. She's a progeny without a sire now. So she lurks in the field where the bonfire is held, watching the bangs and flinching at the bright, burning colours in the sky. But it's Wednesday's scent, all alone at the back of the field, that attracts her.

Stealthily she moves forward, almost seeming to drag the shadows with her like a velvet cloak. Quicker and quicker she moves, until she's right behind Wednesday, until she can touch her neck with a long, bony finger, should she raise her hand.

She lunges.]

[outofthemanor]

[It's hard to say what makes Wednesday side step at that exact moment, but she does, turning just slightly to see the vampire miss her. There's a vague moment of maybe brief surprise but it's dismissed quickly. She tilts her head, and fixes her gaze on the creature]

Lack of manners is a pitiful thing in a bloodsucker.

SAMHAIN

[capsulate]

[ Wouldn't it be particularly cool of Bulma were from a family that cared enough about tradition that they visited their dead every year on Samhain? It would be, wouldn't it? Well, it's actually just a huge coincidence that her grandad died on October 31st. It made perfect sense then that his passing was disturbed by his being a witch himself and dying on Samhain of all days, and so every year since his passing one terribly wealthy human man and the witchy women in his life would sit and have a picnic with the long-passed old man on his grave. It was nice; Bulma hadn't known him in life, so once a year since her birth seeing him was a treat.

That was how Bulma ended up at the same Cemetery as Wednesday, though she had separated from her parents about ten minutes ago. They went on home as she stuck around, looking at the graves and searching for those that she would know belonged to the other-worldly. She looked for symbols and signs that she wasn't already familiar with, in order to take notes, to look into them, to judge the energy and see which charms worked and which did not. She had been so engaged in recording the symbols on one particularly old tombstone that she didn't even notice Wednesday's presence until she was too close to be avoided.

She piqued up at the feeling of the presence of another witch, and upon seeing Wednesday not far away her face sunk. Ugh, What a downer. Maybe she just would keep going on her way. ]

[outofthemanor]

[Wednesday doesn't move, seated comfortably among the graves, but she calls out]

Blessed be on this evening.

Oh my god please app

[redpriest]

[ Morgause carries with her a strong air of magic and, also, a slightly less sombre colour spectrum than Wednesday. She's fond of red, and her long dress trails slightly down the steps into the tomb even as she holds it up. The flicker of the traditional torch (it's samhain, who would use a battery powered light?) picks up the shadows as she walks in -- and picks out Wednesday herself, who is rather akin to a pale shadow.

Morgause was here for her own reasons, and did not expect to have company. She pauses, offers an amused sort of smile finally. ]

Blessed be.

[ She switches the torch to her other hand and picks up the train of her dress again. ]

Well, I had not expected to keep company with the living.

I am considering it!

[outofthemanor]

My ancestors will be here to communue with us shortly, if that would be more to your liking.

[Wednesday can understand the surprise. But then again, thanks to her family line, she has wondered if she can be considered as living. Only sometimes.]

Hannibal King || Blade || Vampire (Hillingdon)

[saniginta]

DON'T PANIC

[There'd been a... Let's say an altercation in a bar. Some drunk who didn't like King's accent or his sense of humour or something that caused a lot of belligerent shouting on his part, something that was swiftly ended when the man managed to finally harass him into a fight and fell forward onto him after one punch knocked him out.]

[One punch and a bloody nose that has King going pale and stepping back to let the man fall unceremoniously to the floor; the bartender just laughs and offers him a free beer because apparently it's that kind of pub, but King just rushes to the toilets (with no regard for the sign on the door) and pulls his shirt off to start washing it in the sink.]

Stupid, stupid fucking-- [His scrubbing is frenzied, like he means to wash away even the memory of blood on his shirt.] Just go out and have a good night by yourself, King. It'll be fine. You definitely won't get blood all over your new shirt and end up talking to yourself like a crazy man in the fucking toilet.

HOUSE OF HORRORS

[Now who doesn't love a good haunted house? This guy, it turns out. You'd think a vampire would be a little less easy to spook, seen some real horrors after all-- oh the things he saw when he was with Danica, but he hates this creepy shit too. The creepy music and the fake webs and the smoke machines? Ugh, sends a chill up his spine.]

[He'd followed a vampire in here, stake hidden inside his jacket and a stabproof vest under his shirt, eyes open for that stupid pale face. He's too focused on that to look out for the typical haunted house things. Like, for instance, rubber bats hanging in doorways. Ever the dignified man, King screams when he gets a face full of bat and his hast to get away from it only makes things worse, getting himself tangled up in the elastic.]

[Smooth, right.]

WILDCARD
[Let's go let's party]

option the first

[thephix]

[You're in the ladies' room, Hannibal.

Though Max doesn't seem particularly concerned, since she's only in here to smoke like the mature adult she is, namely one that can't be bothered going outside where it's fucking cold.]

You should have asked the barman for soda water if you want to avoid a stain.

[She says it like someone who's dealt with a lot of bloodstains before.]

[saniginta]

[There's a brief moment of 'oh shit' on his face, but it's gone pretty quick. She's not beating the shit out of him for being a perv, so there's no need to go anywhere at all until this is dealt with.]

Could've. But the water in here is free.

[It's not like he was so freaked out by the smell of fresh blood he ran straight into the bathroom. No way.]

Bulma Briefs | Dragonball | Witch

[capsulate]

SAMHAIN

[ Bulma hadn't intended on coming back home from her extended trip around Halloween. She thought that she would be able to settle back into her life before diving head first into coven business. She needed a series of long baths, a haircut, to decorate her new flat, to go shopping for clothes that hadn't been in her bag for the last year. As it was though, Samhain was Samhain, and all hands were on deck. She put on her best almost blacks (never having been a fan of the whole pale and tragic aesthetic the community seemed to foster) and made herself presentable. Never let it say that the young would not always do as the young do, and Bulma found herself at house party, filling in those she hadn't seen in a year about her adventures and introducing herself to the witch-friendly that she had yet to meet.

At one point she excuses herself from some dull and drab conversation about crystals to step out onto the porch of the four bedroom Lambeth Victorian for a cigarette. A hop, skip and a jump from vampire territory, but what does she care? She smokes the last of her Chinese cigarettes as she watches the odd human in fancy dress pass by, entirely unaware of the energy buzzing in the atmosphere.

Sucks for them. ]

HOUSE OF HORRORS

[ Sometimes, when no one is around to know about it, Bulma can't help but chastise herself for being such a fucking idiot. For all that she touts the importance of self preservation, she always has been and always will be a sucker for an adventurous discovery. It'll be great going back home, she told herself on the flight back from Taipei. She could sleep on her own bed in fresh new clothes and not talk to anyone but anything for as long as she wanted. It took about two days of that for her to get bored. B O R E D Bored. Checking her handy dandy locator for anything interesting in the area, the tell-tale flickering energy signal of a ghost in the general vicinity piqued her interest. She had plenty of time still before the party, so why not go check it out? Ghosts were fun, right? Every ghost was kind of different, there was always something interesting to take note of. Who didn't love a haunted house?

Bulma. Bulma didn't love a haunted house, that's who. Fuck ghosts.

The sun's already begun to set as Bulma makes her way up the creaking stairs of the abandoned house--not abandoned for that long from the looks of it but it's still so creepy. ]

Hello? I know you're here, why don't you come out and say hi? I'm not going to exorcise you or anything if that's what you're worried about.

WILDCARD

[ bring it, bring it! ]

Samhain

[stauncherhearted]

It's an odd holiday for Nancy- her coven was gone, she hadn't heard from Abby, Kenzi was off to the wind. The three of them that had started it all and how quickly it had all come down around their ears. She still knew some Midnight witches that had managed to escape, and a few well-meaning Daylight witches had invited her to the party. Probably trying to get her to join their coven, win some favor from Sylvia Redbright.

Nancy, dressed in a rather casual black dress, and a pair of booties was already out on the porch when Bluma stepped out. Sitting on the railing, she had a cigarette dangling from her lips, and a flask between her fingers.

"Bulma?" Nancy blinked. "Oh my gosh, you're back! How have you been, love?" She didn't waste a second before wrapping her arms around the other witch in a hug.

[capsulate]

Okay so Bulma only just heard about the fall of Circle Midnight a few minutes ago, before the conversation petered off into something genuinely uninteresting, so she hadn't actually expected to see Nancy. She was going to text the other witch later when she settled down, but now will do just fine. She hugs Nancy back tightly, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"OhmyGOD Nancy! What are you doing here? I just got back yesterday, so I'm still technically on China time."

Eponine - Les Mis - Vampire

[melancolique]

Don't panic

In the dark shadows of the night, there's a noise. It's low and guttural, and the words nonsensical, or another language perhaps, slurred to indistinction. It's definitely a woman's voice.
There are obvious suspects for the noise. Gangs of teenagers hanging out, waiting to mug anyone who goes by of their valuables. Prostitutes. Addicts. Cut throats, waiting to murder. Worse people even than that.
Tonight though, the lure isn't from any.

"Shit." Eponine wipes her bloody mouth quickly with one hand, moving to pinch the wound in the man's neck from which she had been drinking. She hadn't expected the blood to spurt quite ferociously, and now her pale top sports a rather large stain. Blood's spattered in her hair, on her pale cheeks, and drips from nose and chin to chest and jeans. If someone sees her, there's no explaining this one as anything less than murder. Pinching though, isn't working, and with a reluctant sigh of satisfaction, she bends her head once more to the beggar's neck, and begins to drink as quickly as she can.

It seems to take forever for the flow to stop coming quite so quickly, but when it happens, she lifts her face once more, tipping her head back in satisfaction to look at the moon above. Full.

A noise - a footstep? - startles her though, and she stands quickly. She can't be found here. She begins to run.

Drinks on you

Should she be here? Eponine doesn't know anybody in London, let alone a full nest of vampires. But the idea of being so close to others of her kind is just too appealing.
It's fairly obvious that she's just eaten. Her clothes are stained red and blood spatters, smudged now from where she's tried to wipe them, decorate her cheeks.
She tries to slip into the party unnoticed, and hovers at the back of the gathering, watching from the shadows. Her eyes flick from the party goers to the door, the windows. Escape routes, should she need them. Who knows if her Papa has made good on his threat and warned all of their kind not to take her in.

Choose your own!

Don't Panic

[capsulate]

Should Bulma be taking a detour through Vamp territory? Probably not, but it's the best way to get from point A to point B. With a protective charm hanging from her neck and the earth's energy on Team Witch for the night, she's not particularly worried. She's looking at her phone instead of where she's going, and as she turns the corner she walks straight into Eponine.

"Hey--watch where you're going!"

She snaps as she looks up, and in that moment she knows exactly what she's run into.

[melancolique]

"Watch it yourself!" It's a natural instinct to push this woman away out of pure principal. It's vampiric instinct to sink her teeth into the breather's neck. But Eponine prevents herself from doing either. Instead, she glances Bulma up and down, though her gaze lingers on the pendant she wears.

"You walked into me, Madame. I were just stood. P'raps if you weren't to have such a thing as your phone?" She holds her hand out. This is perhaps the most polite and least forceful mugging in the world.

Morgause | BBC Merlin | Witch

[redpriest]

2) IN THE SHADOWS.
Morgause has been so long in France that London is a thing she is no longer used to. Its pulse is now unfamiliar to her, its movements, its politics. These are things she must now relearn, and that is something she quickly sets herself to doing.

A witch should never be afraid of the dark, of the shadows. Morgause certainly isn't. She steps confidently through them, the trees reaching up their limbs into the night sky like so many hands. The slight hint of movement gives her pause and she stops walking through the woodland, hand letting go of her dress and turning slightly. Her eyes are used to the dark now, but she can't see as clearly as some can. She's still technically a human.

"Who's there?" she says, and her voice isn't raised to a shout but she isn't whispering. She's well aware she can be heard, there's no need for either nerves or dramatics.

4) SAMHAIN.
Samhain is the perfect time, in Morgause's opinion, to make some very particular friends.

Sylvia has her own style when it comes to the fae, one coloured by the late Gilbert Norrell and his rabble-rousing and scaremongering.

Morgause knows if she wanted to summon a fae she would have to be careful not to be caught and arrested, but what she can do far more easily is dress against the cold and take a casual midnight walk in Bromley. If that walk, by chance, goes near some known fae hot spots then so be it. If she happens to be carrying plenty of magical items and things to intrigue them out of hiding, well, she can't blame curiosity.

She pauses under a tree and flicks down her hood, blonde hair now being flicked by the occasional burst of wind.

"Well?" She says finally. "I wont stand here all night."

7) BONFIRE NIGHT.

Bonfire night is a British peculiarity, but Morgause -- like any good witch -- loves a good fire and a good firework display. She's sipping a warm drink as she admires the flames licking up into the guy, perfectly manicured nails glinting every so often as the light catches them.

"Sometimes I wonder," she says finally to the person standing closest, "if we're all commemorating the attempt to blow up Parliament or the preventing of it?"

4

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick knows that she's asking to be bothered, and it only serves to make him more curious. No witch wanders through Bromley at night, practically drenched in magic, without knowing they'll encounter a fae. He watches her for a little while, waiting to see what she does, trying to divine her intentions, but then she stops and talks to the open air and he decides that she's probably just looking for trouble. He can keep that trouble contained, at least.

"No, you certainly won't," he says smoothly, approaching her from the other side of the tree and slipping into her field of vision. He's assuming the air of the seductive trickster fae he's so good at playing, raising one eyebrow curiously and smirking. "Although that might be safer for you, depending on your purpose."

[redpriest]

"My purpose?" she echoes. Yet Morgause is as capable of playing the game as he is. She tilts her head at him, takes a few steps around him as if weighing him up. He doesn't fit the description she's had of the Lord of Autumn, who has more of an interest in the human dealings than the rest, but fae can glamour themselves. That, and he may still be able to get her to someone who can give her what she wants. "My purpose here is to speak with one of the fae Lords. We have a mutual problem, one I intend to do something about."

7

[falsify]

Honestly, who doesn't love a good bonfire night display? Reunited with his dog after the hassles of the last month, Eames stands toward the edge of the crowd and Boxer's watching everything eagerly. Tail wagging and face turned up toward the fire, less bothered by the fireworks than most expect a dog to be.

"Historically, the prevention." Eames says as an aside, tilting his head with a wry smile, "though I doubt anyone remembers or cares anymore. Hardly as if burning effigies is still in fashion."

[redpriest]

"Isn't it? Such a shame. I like it."

She turns more to him and offers a matching smile, one that promises many things.

"I'm fond of traditions, myself, but it seems so many traditions are out of fashion. We make more laws every day to protect us from tradition. It seems to me that we have little choice in if we wish to be safe or not. Myself..." She shifts her gaze back to the fire, as if considering. "I prefer to stand as close to the flames as possible."

2

[baisant]

It isn't Jean-Claude's usual stomping grounds, but what with the recent events, he'd been looking for a quieter place to think. Somewhere he might not run into any vampires under his command, or some individual bounty hunter that may want to pick him off before he's even just begun.

It would seem he's not alone, however, a fact made apparent by not only the sound of footsteps in front of him, but now the calling of a voice in his direction. He stops himself and considers his response. He could just walk away, of course, but who is not to say that she might not come after him in turn. He feels...something from her, although across the distance, it is hard to tell. Whoever and whatever she is, though, he knows there is magic about her.

He lingers in the dark for a moment longer before he steps forward towards her. "Forgive me, madame," he replies, slinking forward with the creak of leather boots and dry leaves underfoot. "I did not mean to startle you." Unlike Morgause, Jean-Claude will always have the need for dramatics.

[redpriest]

"You didn't."

Morgause isn't a delicate prey animal about to flit away into the trees at the first sound. She stays put, pushing back her hood so her field of vision is clearer and revealing waves of blonde curls.

"Were you following me?"

A straightforward question. He might have simply been in the area, but equally he might have trailed her for some reason. She won't know unless she asks.

7 + them being sisters a go for this thread? :|a

[magitian]

"The polite answer," a friendly voice replies back, "is allegedly the latter."

She's turned down the offer of a drink so she could really savour her cigarette, indulging herself in the way the smoke curls into her throat and assails her nose because why not? It's meant to be an enjoyable occasion for others, whatever they believe this day is meant to represent, and she's going to take the chance to enjoy a lit bundle of her very own.

Since their return to here, Morcant hasn't found a reason to celebrate anything in the light of so much news and events. More so when swamped in documents and paperwork to settle themselves here in London for the duration of their stay.

"I must admit- The people here have such a skill when it comes to burning impressive displays for all to see." Morcant's smile thins for a second - the news of what happened before their arrival boiling her blood every time she so much thinks of it - but it disappears and her smile is demure and polite again as she looks over at Morgause. "It sends a message, doesn't it?"

4

[oldways]

A rasping voiced pitched at a whisper swirls around Morgause, moving the air and gently rustling the branches overhead.

"And why shouldn't you? Who are you to deserve more than that?"

While Morgause may not be one for dramatics, Mab has a fondness for theatrics. Without warning, the wind picks up all around, scattering a few errant leaves and flinging tiny, stinging bits of debris in every direction. The onslaught is powerful yet brief, stopping as suddenly as it started. When it does, Mab appears at a distance where she can be seen but not with any great clarity.

This witch has momentarily caught her eye but not yet proven to be worth more than a passing glance. There is so much for her to see and do now that she's returned to the mortal realm after such a long absence that she's loathe to waste time, even a theoretical eternity of it. Not to mention, she's never been one to be called forth easily, not even by her most devoted worshipers, let alone a presumptuous witch.