The Underground Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thetube2017-08-26 02:27 pm
undergroundmods) wrote in thetube2017-08-26 02:27 pm
Entry tags:
Test Drive Meme: August-September 2017
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 potential players: Looking for an OOC space to brainstorm your AU? Head over to our permanent character workshop post to ask for feedback and share ideas.
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) WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE. Welcome to London! It's time to introduce yourself to your faction, to your fellow supernatural citizens, would-be friends, potential enemies... Will people quake with fear or awe when you enter the room? Or are you some nobody trying to make a name for yourself? Either way, gotta start networking.
2) THE RACE IS ON. The competition within your faction is even worse than the competition outside. That guy over there has turned sucking up to your boss into an art form. What about the woman who works out at 5am every morning and can probably punch through a wall? If you want to climb the ladder, you'd better start working harder.
3) THE WRONG DIRECTION. It's a big city and it's easy to get lost. Normally that's not such a big deal, but this time you've taken a wrong turn and ended up in hostile territory. If you're spotted by the wrong person, you could be in for a seriously bad time. Is there anyone around who can help?
4) NEVER LOSE CONTROL. You had one drink... or two... Maybe it's almost the full moon, or maybe there's some magic in the air messing with your hormones, but you're this close to going all out with your fangs or your claws or your magic. You need to get out of here, fast.
5) SWING IT, SHAKE IT. You've got a disco ball, a killer outfit and music so loud you can feel it pumping through the dance floor. Show the humans how it's done.
6) KARAOKE. It's karaoke night in one of London's favourite supernatural bars and that tone-deaf werewolf is hogging the mike again.
7) RUN AROUND. It seemed simple, right? One errand to run, just one. And yet the world seems to be conspiring against you. Your alarm didn't go off, you missed the bus or train, you got caught in traffic, someone spilled their drink on your brand new leather jacket, you tripped over and literally fell headfirst into a dumpster... Oh, God. Could this day get any worse?
8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.
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She stands back, admiring her handiwork, just for a minute, before approaching Imogen once more.
Eponine sits, a slight weight, really, on top of Imogen's sprawled legs, and winds her long, skeletal fingers through Imogen's blonde locks. Looking into Imogen's eyes, Eponine can see her own reflection, pale skin, dark eyes, black hair. She looks like hell. Doesn't matter, though. She's got what she wants.
"They're still there, Monsieur Fallon and his gang. I have just a half a minute. I couldn't afford more. Just thirty seconds to drink from you. They will know when my teeth pierce your skin -"
she wrenches Imogen's head to the side, and Eponine's fingers find the artery in her neck. "Here. Here is where I will bite."
She looks at her bloody fingers, before sucking them carefully. Her eyes close in bliss, and gradually, her frame stops trembling, and it seems almost as if she breathes a sigh of satisfaction.
"It doesn't count. It is on my fingers. I have not pierced your neck yet. It doesn't count." She grins gleefully. "Gosh, such a feed. Madame! You cannot know how I have longed for such a thing."
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"It don't count - it don't. I didn't bite. I didn't suck. It doesn't count." she mutters, feverishly. "He tells me of them, the vampires. I think I am to die - he has already battered me, they all have. But no. It is Montparnasse who turns me. My master. And now, I need blood."
She shakes her head. "It is bad for you. But it shan't hurt for I won't turn you. Just a little blood, like a needle. Now -"
She glances quickly into the darkness as the men yell at her to hurry up or they'll drag her away. A flurry of name calling follows, and Eponine barks a laugh.
"You hear what they call me? Two days in the city and I have such a reputation as a whore and a bitch. Well, perhaps I shall add his favourite to it - a fucking junkie too."
She turns Imogen's head none too gently again, so that her neck is bared. And without further ado, Eponine sinks her teeth into the other girl's neck.
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The girl bites down and it does hurt. God it hurts, like being stabbed, and Imogen cries out, weakly struggling against the arms holding her down.
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"Please" - Eponine, blood dripping from her chin and staining her shirt, her jeans. "I need -"
But she's held in a grip firmer than her own on Imogen, whilst the gangsters stage the mugging. The girl's guitar is smashed, the case overturned. Coins scatter across the alleyway, and the vampires laugh as Eponine cries out, and lunges forward to catch them.
"Let 'er go -" Fallon cackles and the hands holding Eponine disappear, replaced only by cruel laughter as she scrambles on the floor, pocketing coins. She notices Imogen's phone too, on the pavement. It must have fallen when Eponine jumped her. She shoves it into her knickers, hoping the men won't care enough about it to retrieve it from there. The few notes she finds - goodness knows how much, follow the phone into her underwear.
And then, money collected, stomach heavenly full, Eponine sits motionless on the pavement. She leans herself forward, forward, until her cheek touches the floor.
"I can hear the drums," she mutters to no one in particular.
"Fucking junkie," and her prediction comes true. But the vampires' mood of elation and laughter changes as they realise that Eponine meant footsteps. They debate, briefly, leaving her there, half comatose, at the scene, but realise quickly that she knows their name, will give them up in a flash, so she's dragged to her feet, slapped hard about the face to bring her to her senses, and pulled away with the gang.
For them, the night is young, and so is the junkie they carry between them.
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