thetube | Test Drive Meme: December 2016/January 2017

Entry tags:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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) STAY ANOTHER DAY. Maybe it's just for the holidays, but if you've come to London to reconnect with friends and family, now is the time to make the most of it. And it turns out, someone is pretty keen for you to stick around. Your loved ones? Or perhaps you've been noticed by one of London's supernatural factions. Don't go just yet, friend. The city may need you.

2) CHRISTMAS DAY / BOXING DAY. (25th-26th December) Whatever you think of Christmas, it's everywhere in London. Christmas songs on the radio, Christmas lights in the streets, carol singers, and presents under the tree. Of course, in the supernatural world, the presents may just have a magical twist. What's that strange little gift from an unknown sender...?

3) NEW YEAR'S EVE FIREWORKS. (31st December) The New Year's Eve fireworks display is always spectacular. Count down to midnight with Big Ben, then watch the spectacle along with the crowds. Or you could stay at home and watch it on TV.

4) STRANDED. Your flight got cancelled. A storm delayed your train home. The hotel made a mistake with your booking and now you have nowhere to stay. Whatever the reason, you're stuck in London with nowhere to go and it is cold. Depending on where you've ended up, it might be dangerous as well. Are your kind welcome here?

5) DRINK YOUR SORROWS AWAY. Look, it's winter, it's dark, not everyone is having a good time. Might as well buy a drink... and another... and another...

6) NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION. Goodbye 2016, hello 2017. New year, new you. You've decided to make a change, maybe for yourself, maybe for the entire supernatural community. How are you getting on?

7) CALL A TRUCE. The holidays are a time of peace. Maybe just this once you can have a drink with an enemy and put aside any bad blood.

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

New year, new you, right?

Charlie's been decluttering. Even with all of her yearly purges, the stuff she's accumulated over the centuries does tend to pile up (and her family in the Seelie Court have made it very clear that they are no longer to be used as a storage unit for her magical junk). So, after a carefully curated purge of clothes and knicknacks, she's finally gotten down to magical trinkets and cursed objects. And those she can't just dump in a bin for a charity shop.

"Hullo?" she calls our breezily. "Lan? Are you buying today?"

"Always, always. Come in," she calls out from the back of the store. Lan stands and moves just far enough forward to show Charlie roughly where she can be found - past the cabinets of bones, to the right of the cartography, on beyond funerary notices. No matter the season, she's shirtless and wearing a plain, linen sarong. As a concession to winter, she does have a pot of tea on and a shawl draped over the back of one chair.

"Please, sit. Can I offer you anything? Honey, milk?"

"Honey'd be great, thanks."

Charlie doesn't even bat an eye at the other fae's state of undress. It's all about fashion choices, really. Charlie chooses to appear human when she's in the human realm; it's not the same for everyone.

She grabs a paper shopping bag and starts pulling things out: an ornate glass cosmetics jar, a faded picture in a frame, a tarnished mirror. She's always been rather careless with her things.

"I know it's mostly rubbish, but I thought I might be able to get a price off it. The cream's cursed, of course; youth cream that makes the wearer look older. Then there's a haunted photograph; she finally crossed over last year but there's risidual energy left you might be able to make use of. Oh, and the mirror reveals one's true face. Rather mean little gift from my ex, that one. No thank you."

Lan has a jar of honey already on the go for herself, but she pulls out another and a little horn spoon for Charlotte. It probably once came with a caviar set and it's a finely engraved piece with mother of pearl set into the handle and not a bit of troublesome metal to be seen.

"If I can't find a buyer, and I might not be able to, I can at least send you over to a few people I know that might do well enough by you." Gesturing that her guest is welcome to sit on one of the overstuffed chairs, Lan settles in its opposite number. There's a little low table between them that will neatly hold the items and their snack. "That said, what sort of payment are you looking for? Paid out today, tomorrow, or when it sells?"

Makes sense. Spellcasting seems to be more trouble than what it's worth sometimes, what with the preparation and sometimes having to make it a group activity. Probably why the witches he knows tend to stick to potions and item crafting.

Ghoul breathes out a short clip of a laugh, shaking his head as he reflects on what he's learned. "A witch who spends most of her time around vampires." He assumes, anyway. That's certainly what it smells like. "You're weird, y'know." Judging by the smile on his face, though, weird isn't a bad thing.

Ghoul's feathers are less ruffled when he turns his attention back to Party. It's nice to have a common enemy, but the passing man ends up pretty well out of earshot within a few seconds, leaving him alone again with Party and his fussing.

A pelt on- what the fuck?

Ghoul's face looks only about as half as incredulous as he feels. He knows that yeah, sure, vampires and werewolves historically haven't gotten along. He's not so foolish as to think they'd all be best friends here, especially when they have no similar goals to work towards like they had back home, but pelts on walls? That's fucked up.

Then again, Party looks about as reliable as a tabloid. Figures that he'd run in to a doomsday-crier who probably lives in a cardboard box somewhere. He groans at the thought, giving up the fight right then and there. He'll be damned if he's gonna waste time arguing in circles with an overdramatic homeless guy. As soon as Party starts walking, Ghoul turns on his heel and does the same, trudging off in the opposite direction.

Ah yes, that old question. Anya can't help herself, she makes a face. "Vengeance is on hold. My amulet was smashed." She's not happy about it, it's clear.

"So here I am. 100% human again. Ah- it's Anya now. What do you go by this time?" So many fae, so many names.

"Yes." Anya reaches for two smaller stones and holds them out. "Amethyst," she points to the purple one. "And tiger's eye. There are no Ritalin rocks. Just cocaine rocks. But we don't sell that here, so don't think that we do, mister."

Look at her, so helpful.

Charlotte waves the question off absently. There's not much of a cell signal in the shop; her phone is buzzing far less than usual. It's actually something of a relief.

"I'm not in any rush. When or if it sells is just fine." She takes a sip of tea, grateful for the warmth. She hates these winter months, when her magic is at its lowest. Sunlight and summer can't come fast enough. "How have you been, though? Holding up all right?"

Charlie can't help another peal of laughter at that. Oh, this is rich. "You're human. Oh, shit, the fireworks. Here, take a picture with me." Immediately, she flips her phone to selfie mode and gets a rather awkward-looking shot of Anya (she herself looks gorgeous) with the fireworks behind. Perfect. She already knows which hashtags to use.

"But you're human!" she continues, once she's chosen a filter. "That's hilarious. I'm Charlie these days, by the way. What's you username? I can tag you."

Nancy furrows her brow just a bit. He thought this was weird? Unfortunately, it's a reminder of what's happened in the last few months. So many of her friends exiled, never to return to London.

But she laughs it off, pushing a lock of ginger hair behind her ears.

"I suppose I am. Well, welcome to London. Most of us are."

Anya hardly has time to register what Charlie is saying before she's posing for a photo. The picture isn't too great, but before she can actually see it, it's gone.

"Yes- I am, some very nasty witch destroyed my amulet, and it's not something to laugh at. You should be pitying me, offering condolences. It's awful being human and- what username? Are you on Snapgram?" She'd heard people talking about it.

He shrugs, evidently not put off in the least. "Good. I like weird."

Then, as the train approaches one of its numerous stops, Ghoul's face falls. He leans to the side, looking first past her at the doors, then through one of the windows with a pensive expression. After a few seconds of silence, he notes, "Fuck, this is the wrong train." Welp.

Despite the cars still being in motion, he pops up, out of his seat. What a winning impression to make. "Guess you oughta teach me a navigation spell some time."

"Why, it's practically a gift. How kind. How festive." The patch of scales at the base of Lan's throat ripples through a series of flickering, bio-luminescent colour changes as she takes up her own cup of tea. In theory, she could make an effort to look human, but given her other proclivities and in order to stave off accusations that she's 'gone native', she's chosen to appear as she truly is.

"And I'm well enough. Warm, with plenty of pies to look in on." It rankles to have someone check in on her as if she's some human, maiden aunt, but she maintains a level of politeness. While she is not always quite so focused on manners, it is a very bad sign if she has other priorities. "And yourself? It is not our time, but there's usually some sport to be had."

Nancy laughs, but it's kindly.

"I could, but it wouldn't work for you." Magic users only, basically. "Where're you trying to get to? I'll sort you out." She knew the tube extremely well.

2 Christmas Eve
Eponine lurks outside a church. Corpus Christi. She traces the guilder letters of the name with her finger. She's always liked churches, well, the music at least. The reading bit, and the priest doing his preachy bit- 'don't do this, don't do that' - was boring though. But the music, especially on Christmas, is lovely. She sings along to the ones she knows, 'Away in a Manger', 'Silent Night' and 'O Little Town of Bethlehem', from her seat on the steps of the church. It sounds funny to sing in English, but when in Rome… or London. It's not as beautiful as French, though.
As the mass ends, she retreats to a doorway a little way down the street. The people spill out. Her stomach growls.

She follows one pair, a couple with their arms around one another. They wander through the streets and Eponine follows them, stalking them in the shadows. She could kill them. She creeps closer. It's been ages since she's had a good meal.

4. Stranded

Eponine's never been to London. She's never actually been anywhere outside of France really. And now here she is, packed off, unwanted by her sire, for now. She clutches her map, trying to figure out where on earth she is. Is it dangerous? She has no idea. Montparnasse told her to find Jean-Claude, but she's not sure who to ask. Better not to, really. Vampires aren't exactly liked at home and she doesn't think that it'll be much different here.

Eventually, she finds the river. She can navigate from here, but she doesn't really know where she's going. To make matters worse, the sun is coming up, and Montparnasse took her daylight jewellery from her back in Paris. She needs somewhere to stay. Quickly, she makes a decision, hitches her battered rucksack back up to her shoulders and sets off across a bridge. Something will have to turn up. Right?

"Yeah..." The corner of his mouth quirks up in to a tiny, almost-awkward smile. "Still, figure it can't hurt. Pretty much need all the fuckin' help I can get, most of the time." Then again, knowing his luck, trying to use magic without actually possessing the required skill would likely piss off some unheard-of ancient god of magic, and then he'd really be done for.

Maybe instead of a spell, what he needs is a lucky's rabbit's foot. A real one.

He hesitates when answering her question- part of him doesn't even want to know how badly he's messed this one up, but ultimately he clears his throat and mumbles, "Blackhorse Road?"

To Nancy's credit, she at least tries to hide her giggle.

"Oh, no- it's not that bad. I promise- look, you just got on in the wrong direction, no big deal. Here, what you do is get off at-" and she starts to give directions for a few moments before she pauses. "Let me just write it down for you, yeah?"

And like that, she's looking in her purse for something to write on.

He appreciates the effort, even if he can't hide the momentary wrinkle of his nose.

Well, it's fine. Just about anything is fixable. This seems to be a multi-step process, so when she suggests writing it down, he even surprises himself with a grateful laugh. "Yeah, definitely." Ghoul sets about patting down his pockets as well. Usually he'd have a bunch of receipts or a napkin or something stashed away, but he's coming up empty now.

He's nothing if not resourceful, though. "Uh, here, this is probably gonna be easiest-" He tugs his sleeves up a couple inches, leaving his hands fully exposed. After dragging his palms in a quick swipe across the fabric of his jeans, he moves closer to her, arms outstretched and palms facing up, ready for her to write on. They're the only portions of his hands and arms that are significantly blank enough to write any sort of information on. All the rest is covered up by way too many tattoos, because Ghoul clearly makes responsible choices in life.

"Already had most of my shots'n everything, swear it."

Nancy makes a bit of a face, and shakes her head.

"No- hold up." She's got a piece of paper, the back of a receipt for something she'd actually bothered to purchase. Nancy doesn't pull out a pen, however. She takes her finger and starts to write out the direction, ink appearing as her finger moves on to the next letter.

It doesn't take long, but she's handing the receipt back to him.

"This should give you a better idea."

Ghoul's easily entertained by watching the letters appear out of thin air, quiet the entire time, even if the moment doesn't last all that long. It's as effective as sticking a tablet playing a movie in to a toddler's hands. Instant shut-up button.

He takes the paper from her gingerly once its offered up, swiping the pad of his thumb over the writing a time or two before actually bothering to read what's there. He's got a little time to absorb it before the train comes to a full stop, and she's right. It's not as bad as he thought. "I can handle this," he assures with a grin. "Thanks, I owe you one. Unless this is, like, disappearing ink. Then you're awful."

He smirks. "Couldn't handle your mark-up if you did, but I like the tiger's eye."

Some of this new age stuff seems like complete bullshit to Party, but a small rock is the sort of thing he doesn't mind taking a chance on. Worst case scenario is he's got a useless, pretty rock on his bedside table.

"It's not," she promises him with a bit of a grin. "I'm sure it's confusing, being new to London and all." She assumed, given his blatantly American accent and general cluelessness about a few things. It wasn't a bad thing, though.

"Real ink. Promise."

Anya blinks, then after almost too long, laughs. "You're funny! I like you." But that doesn't mean you're going to get a discount. No discounts. Or any more returns.

"Here- we have many different sizes," she says, picking up a piece of amethyst the size of a mouse.

"Should get yerself inside," a male voice with a distinctly Southern accent said as he approached from her left. He was bundled up for the cold, shoulders hiked to his ears despite this. He sniffed loudly as he started to walk pasted her and waved one hand that he quickly shoved back into a pocket, "Bus for this stop only comes between 9am and 2pm. You're better off on the tube."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 3 of 8

Test Drive Meme: December 2016/January 2017

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Eponine | Les Miserables | Vampires

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Stranded