Welcome to Ryslig's test drive meme! If you're considering apping here, this is where you can try your characters out in the game's setting. A few things to note:
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: You've just been released from the hospital in Vandare and no one really seems to know what to do with you. The locals offer polite advice but don't seem to want to spend a lot of time with you. You and the other new arrivals stick out like sore thumbs, so perhaps one will spot you wandering about town.
SCENARIO TWO: You've become hopelessly lost in Lager Woods. Paths don't seem to lead where you remember them leading, and you feel as if you're going around in circles. Childlike giggling can be heard from no direction in particular. Suddenly, you stumble upon another character, who seems to be just as lost as you! Perhaps you can find a way out together.
SCENARIO THREE: The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? NOTE: Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
[ it frustrates him more than anything, the longer he searches through the town. frustrates, annoys, bothers him somewhere far under his skin that he doesn't know if he's ever noticed before. he can only really liken the feeling to that emptied gut feeling that comes after missing a step on a staircase - a heightened heart-rate, a sharper vision, but nothing really all that wrong. he doesn't see anything the matter with this little seaside town, other than the obvious.
pulled from the ocean, someone else will know more. his back itches and he's got scratches up and down his arms he can't explain, but he's alive. he's alright.
he's just losing his mind.
which is a weird thing to actively think about - can you think about losing your own mind? does it work that way? it has to, in some fashion, because there's no way whatever it is he's experience in the space and time that surrounds him could be real. it's not possible for him to go one moment back home, and the next waking up in a hospital, a hospital he's never heard of, in a cape town he's never been to, with no one he's ever met. it doesn't stop kisumi from trying, walking up to just about anyone who will give him a second glance, asking questions on questions on questions to the point that he just makes them uncomfortable. they do try and be polite, and some manage to stay that way, even as they shut the door and leave him out on the street.
i'm sorry, that's all i know. ask around some more, they'll be able to help.
except that he does ask around, and he's given clothes and food and directions to places he doesn't want to go. no one can tell him anything, or better yet - no one will tell him anything, and that feeling solidifies into a denser and denser substance in his gut.
it's not real. it can't be real.
kisumi settles his hands in his pockets, after what he decides will be his last unsuccessful talk for now, as he makes his way down the street. it's dark out, the feeling of rain hangs in the air, but he still can't quite place why or how the hair on the back of his neck hasn't settled.
it's with this thought - or succession of thoughts, of questions on questions on questions that are still bouncing around between his ears - that he turns the corner. onto another street, no less, around what he expects to just be the same old corner he's been finding himself turning all day. the only issue this time around is what he finds when he does turn it, stopping himself in the middle of sidewalk and staring, frozen in that moment, unsure- ]
Haru? [ the way his voice spikes up around the question mark almost makes him cough, but he's too concerned with how his own eyes grow wide, how he knows more and more as the seconds pass that it's definitely him. that's definitely haru.
the cardinal difference now with its intonation is, of course, equal parts incredulity and uncertainty. on the regular, haru associates this voice and name with No Respect for Personal Space and Smiles that Suggest they Hurt to Hold and, occasionally, Basketball. also Makoto. but that's a path he veers from, head turning as he confirms.
kisumi.
they must make a picture, staring at each other as such, echoing the wide-eyed gazes of owls who have nothing better to do aside from stand here. his own focus cants from the top of kisumi's head to his feet, not even certain what he's looking for other than persisting familiarity in an unfamiliar Everything Else. if he had any doubts, kisumi's utterance of his name obliterated those out of the gate, but still haru hesitates, does not take a step forward. just keeps staring.
scratches. bruises. did the same clumsy fisherman yank them out of the sea or what?
how did they even get there?
haru had, up until now, foolishly, stupidly, and with a sharp evidence of his own loose definition of reality, been willing to believe he did not remember a stupid decision. often he dreamt of the ocean after all and though he never did seem to be much for sleep walking, he supposed there was always a first time. though to swim alone in the wild is stupid and he knows that too.
kisumi on the other hand. he would have no reason.
then again, maybe this conclusion is wrong. haru tries to find his voice to ask the things he wants answers to: how did you get here? (was it the same as me?) how long have you been here? (...the same as me?) do you believe this is real? (because i guess that i do.) so on. so forth. what crawls out his throat unhappily instead is a mild, ]
Hello.
[ he digs his heels hard into the earth. ]
I don't know what's going on.
[ the notion of easing into things is lost on haru who goes forward or fades back. he places his truths on the table and stares at them, mostly from a perspective of his face pressed to its surface as well, the impression of lazy or apathetic adolescence. in this case, at least, he is neither of these; even if his expression remains vaguely the same. even now, he makes no motion to get closer. around them smatterings of townspeople go on about their daily business, and it isn't lost on haru that some of them spot the two boys and speed up their pace.
why?
unconsciously, his right arm crosses his middle and his hand curls about his left arm, fingers pulsing with the restlessness of too many questions; when he squeezes, it hurts, even a soft bruising ready to protest at the unfair treatment. i'm awake i'm awake i'm awake. yet he closes his eyes anyway, as if he expects when he opens them he won't see this town, won't see kisumi looking more lost than he thought the other boy could look, won't see anything but the ceiling of his bathroom or bedroom or the exterior porch -- a stray white cat wending its way into the daylight.
but no matter how long he keeps his eyes shut, the sounds remain the same, and haru who has always been more observation and less initiation, can still feel kisumi there too. if haru was three years younger he would allow himself the childish resentment that kisumi's presence prods at -- the fact that this boy would definitely not be making an appearance in his dreams and so obviously this all (whatever it is) must be real.
even if it makes exactly 0 sense. even if haru's cat-like hackles are being more than a little unfair in response to being thrown so out of depth. it occurs to him now, however, that with his eyes closed he is even more keenly aware of that underlying smell in the distance: ocean.
[ kisumi had always been keenly aware of his place in the universe - he'd been a boy, a teenager, who weaves through friendships like a pair of feet through a crowd. he kept bright and cheerful because it was the easiest state to keep - people liked bright and cheerful, liked the easy happiness it allowed them. he could do that if it eased their own place in the relationship, if it could get him to where he wanted to be. he’d made friends in elementary school that way, in middle school. high school it had been limited mostly to classmates, a teammate or two, senpais he’d followed around for the sake of it, for the interest they’d brought forth from him. memories of middle school and before faded away like they always do for the sake of the present.
he’d seen haru recently, though, a quiet reminder of days past. not much had changed in him, or makoto for that matter, but it had brought forth all sort of questions on kisumi’s end. where and how and when, wrapped up in the simple reality that was them. they swam, they were still best friends, they lived.
kisumi looks at haru now and wonders if it’s still that simple for the other boy. if he figured out what they’re doing after graduation, after college. he wonders what life is like now, for the quiet boy who loved water, who was a genius swimmer in every way, who walked around with the simple understanding that he could gain what he wanted from life as long as he could see the world around him in relation to himself.
they look at each other now and kisumi can’t help but wonder: is this a dream? his own self-conscious bringing forth everything from his past to teach him some kind of lesson he hadn’t quite mastered? he stares at haru like the answer will step forward, like this will all clear itself up in the following moments, but haru is just as scratched and just as bruised and as he stares back at kisumi, just as confused.
hello kisumi forgets how to breathe, for half a second. waits and thinks if the ground opens up now, will it even matter?. they stand there and haru continues and kisumi realized, belated, that if this was some kind of dream he’d need to be the one to act. this is happening because this is his own mind, and he’d expect himself to take that first step.
so he does.
one, two, and then all the consecutive movements following, until he’s barely a step away from his middle-school classmate whose eyes are still so blue, tense and defensive, and kisumi has to take an effort to keep from reaching out - laying a hand on his shoulder, the top of his head. he smiles, because that is what he knows best, and laughs a little as the hand who’d been moving to close the distance between them changes course to the back of his own neck. ]
Makes two of us, eh Haru? No one will tell me anything.
[ he looks around, then, as if expecting some kind of cosmic shift to happen as soon as the words leave his mouth. like by saying it aloud, alone, would be enough to break him out of this state. but when nothing changes and he looks back to haru, he has his eyes closed. it pulls him out of his own state of confusion, focusing his attention away from where he is, how he got here, just to haru.
eyes closed, stubborn, frozen solid haru. kisumi clicks his tongue against his teeth, the tch echoing in his own mouth for a moment as his eyebrow lifts up, his head leaning down to try and catch haru’s gaze when he finally opens them up again.
which he doesn’t. not immediately, at least, and as kisumi waits he actually feels a bit amused by it. he thinks of a child, a tantrum, then lets the laugh escape past his lips. ]
Oi, Haru, what are you doing? [ and there goes his hand, despite the earlier effort, reaching forward to settle on haru’s shoulder. to grab his attention, to do something. that electric need that has been moving parallel to his own unsettling feeling hasn’t disappeared, and he wonders if it will.
[ the words 'child' and 'tantrum' are not inaccurate. haru doesn't change much, given time or not it seems, and when kisumi addresses him with that question mark, he starts by only opening one bright blue eye. ]
Listening.
[ comes the clipped answer but it's not clipped for shortness of temper nor even long-suffering cliches. haru just happens to use his words sparingly and without apology (mostly.) one eye, two eyes, one haru entirely zeroed in on the statement of 'so mean' with exactly 3.4 ounces of emotion to show for it: all of them flickers of confused annoyance.
mean?
he doesn't particularly feel mean but he supposes that doesn't make it wrong regardless.
a sigh traps itself under his tongue, punches against the backs of his teeth and gives up. ]
I'm going to find the water.
[ leagues shy of an invitation yet he did not have to disclose this at all, haru comes only so close to saying: i recognize you, this relieves me....i'm lost. we're lost. but he will absolutely magnetize to what overriding reality makes itself known to him with familiarity and while someone else might choose a person, haru chooses this. notably, it's not in this case that he thinks it will make him feel better; in fact, he has an aching, nauseous suspicion it will make him feel worse.
he can still hear rin's voice, a fire at fatal odds with haru who had already chosen not to listen -- because he felt not listened to as well, because he couldn't use his words as expertly, because...he doesn't know. he doesn't know.
even so. he wants to see the water here -- is it an ocean? is it a something else? the lighthouse suggests the former but he can't be certain without seeing it for himself even if already he is rather clear that he does not want to go in -- cause for alarm if anything is concerning haruka nanase but it's also private. and the lights of sirens alone aren't enough to clear the way.
he half turns, but his focus stays momentarily pinned on the other boy, the sharp glance of his cheekbone beneath a lavender eye.
haru has the mild and recurring thought: of all the people.
then he turns the rest of the way and starts walking. kisumi can follow or not; if neither of them has any answers then there exists -- as far as he can tell -- no definitive reason for them to shackle together save for being each other's only points of commonality. haru tells himself this is not nearly enough of a reason to insist or posit the idea in the first place; but some innate unease betrays him. he walks slower than normal and tells himself it's because he doesn't feel well.
[ and then there's haru, clipped words with easy tones and open eyes. or, in this case, eye as in the singular - listening he explains - and kisumi's eyebrows shift up on his forehead. haru always had a tendency to say things like kisumi should have already known, and he assumes that is in part to makoto, who probably would already know, and he just smiles. always the same, always a constant, always the haru he remembers sitting behind in class, passing notes to and talking about basketball with.
that is when haru's other eye opens, and kisumi just tilts his head, like maybe if he catches haru's gaze head on more of this would make sense. but it doesn't, and the unsettling nature of it all leaves kisumi feeling a bit like he's standing on a raft in the middle of the ocean. unstable, unmoored, unable to find footing in a ground that shifts with the gravity of the earth. i'm going to find water and kisumi is huffing out a laugh, dropping his hand from haru's shoulder, but he doesn't move to create any more space between them. he does feel better, in the proximity of someone he recognizes, knows, is familiar with, and while he might not know anything more than he did two minutes before - he feels better for it, can breathe a bit better for it.
kisumi is social to the bone, an extrovert in just about every sense of the word, and even if haru seems just as anoyed by his presence as he has been the last couple of times they've met, he's not about to let that dissuade him. it's just haru, after all, and kisumi doesn't feel anything negative from the soft sighs he gives, or the brush off of his own hands on haru's shoulders.
he assumes haru wants to go swimming, he assumes there's a swim suit under his damp-to-drying pants and he assumes that, while his gut is saying it's a bad idea, he won't be able to stop him.
so when haru turns, kisumi steps to follow. stops when haru turns back again - stares at him in that haru sort of way - and kisumi just smiles back, bright and easy. ] I'll follow. I already made it through town, anyway. No one there seems to have any real answers. I got a bunch of flyers but those aren't helping much either and- oi!
[ haru turns again, then, and keeps going - kisumi picking up his own speed a little to catch up and fall in step. there is just over three seconds before kisumi catches up, but he notices how haru slows anyway, smiling a bit to himself as he steps in next to him, sliding his hands in his own pockets for now. ]
Have you seen much else of this place, Haru? They brought me to that hospital, but they didn't seem too concerned. It's weird, isn't it? People washing up out of the ocean...
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graveyardsmash2014-11-19 04:36 pm
settles gently c:
pulled from the ocean, someone else will know more. his back itches and he's got scratches up and down his arms he can't explain, but he's alive. he's alright.
he's just losing his mind.
which is a weird thing to actively think about - can you think about losing your own mind? does it work that way? it has to, in some fashion, because there's no way whatever it is he's experience in the space and time that surrounds him could be real. it's not possible for him to go one moment back home, and the next waking up in a hospital, a hospital he's never heard of, in a cape town he's never been to, with no one he's ever met. it doesn't stop kisumi from trying, walking up to just about anyone who will give him a second glance, asking questions on questions on questions to the point that he just makes them uncomfortable. they do try and be polite, and some manage to stay that way, even as they shut the door and leave him out on the street.
i'm sorry, that's all i know. ask around some more, they'll be able to help.
except that he does ask around, and he's given clothes and food and directions to places he doesn't want to go. no one can tell him anything, or better yet - no one will tell him anything, and that feeling solidifies into a denser and denser substance in his gut.
it's not real. it can't be real.
kisumi settles his hands in his pockets, after what he decides will be his last unsuccessful talk for now, as he makes his way down the street. it's dark out, the feeling of rain hangs in the air, but he still can't quite place why or how the hair on the back of his neck hasn't settled.
it's with this thought - or succession of thoughts, of questions on questions on questions that are still bouncing around between his ears - that he turns the corner. onto another street, no less, around what he expects to just be the same old corner he's been finding himself turning all day. the only issue this time around is what he finds when he does turn it, stopping himself in the middle of sidewalk and staring, frozen in that moment, unsure- ]
Haru? [ the way his voice spikes up around the question mark almost makes him cough, but he's too concerned with how his own eyes grow wide, how he knows more and more as the seconds pass that it's definitely him. that's definitely haru.
but...how? ]
/perches next to uwu
the cardinal difference now with its intonation is, of course, equal parts incredulity and uncertainty. on the regular, haru associates this voice and name with No Respect for Personal Space and Smiles that Suggest they Hurt to Hold and, occasionally, Basketball. also Makoto. but that's a path he veers from, head turning as he confirms.
kisumi.
they must make a picture, staring at each other as such, echoing the wide-eyed gazes of owls who have nothing better to do aside from stand here. his own focus cants from the top of kisumi's head to his feet, not even certain what he's looking for other than persisting familiarity in an unfamiliar Everything Else. if he had any doubts, kisumi's utterance of his name obliterated those out of the gate, but still haru hesitates, does not take a step forward. just keeps staring.
scratches. bruises. did the same clumsy fisherman yank them out of the sea or what?
how did they even get there?
haru had, up until now, foolishly, stupidly, and with a sharp evidence of his own loose definition of reality, been willing to believe he did not remember a stupid decision. often he dreamt of the ocean after all and though he never did seem to be much for sleep walking, he supposed there was always a first time. though to swim alone in the wild is stupid and he knows that too.
kisumi on the other hand. he would have no reason.
then again, maybe this conclusion is wrong. haru tries to find his voice to ask the things he wants answers to: how did you get here? (was it the same as me?) how long have you been here? (...the same as me?) do you believe this is real? (because i guess that i do.) so on. so forth. what crawls out his throat unhappily instead is a mild, ]
Hello.
[ he digs his heels hard into the earth. ]
I don't know what's going on.
[ the notion of easing into things is lost on haru who goes forward or fades back. he places his truths on the table and stares at them, mostly from a perspective of his face pressed to its surface as well, the impression of lazy or apathetic adolescence. in this case, at least, he is neither of these; even if his expression remains vaguely the same. even now, he makes no motion to get closer. around them smatterings of townspeople go on about their daily business, and it isn't lost on haru that some of them spot the two boys and speed up their pace.
why?
unconsciously, his right arm crosses his middle and his hand curls about his left arm, fingers pulsing with the restlessness of too many questions; when he squeezes, it hurts, even a soft bruising ready to protest at the unfair treatment. i'm awake i'm awake i'm awake. yet he closes his eyes anyway, as if he expects when he opens them he won't see this town, won't see kisumi looking more lost than he thought the other boy could look, won't see anything but the ceiling of his bathroom or bedroom or the exterior porch -- a stray white cat wending its way into the daylight.
but no matter how long he keeps his eyes shut, the sounds remain the same, and haru who has always been more observation and less initiation, can still feel kisumi there too. if haru was three years younger he would allow himself the childish resentment that kisumi's presence prods at -- the fact that this boy would definitely not be making an appearance in his dreams and so obviously this all (whatever it is) must be real.
even if it makes exactly 0 sense. even if haru's cat-like hackles are being more than a little unfair in response to being thrown so out of depth. it occurs to him now, however, that with his eyes closed he is even more keenly aware of that underlying smell in the distance: ocean.
ah. right. well at least that seems the same.
seems.]
wraps around
he’d seen haru recently, though, a quiet reminder of days past. not much had changed in him, or makoto for that matter, but it had brought forth all sort of questions on kisumi’s end. where and how and when, wrapped up in the simple reality that was them. they swam, they were still best friends, they lived.
kisumi looks at haru now and wonders if it’s still that simple for the other boy. if he figured out what they’re doing after graduation, after college. he wonders what life is like now, for the quiet boy who loved water, who was a genius swimmer in every way, who walked around with the simple understanding that he could gain what he wanted from life as long as he could see the world around him in relation to himself.
they look at each other now and kisumi can’t help but wonder: is this a dream? his own self-conscious bringing forth everything from his past to teach him some kind of lesson he hadn’t quite mastered? he stares at haru like the answer will step forward, like this will all clear itself up in the following moments, but haru is just as scratched and just as bruised and as he stares back at kisumi, just as confused.
hello kisumi forgets how to breathe, for half a second. waits and thinks if the ground opens up now, will it even matter?. they stand there and haru continues and kisumi realized, belated, that if this was some kind of dream he’d need to be the one to act. this is happening because this is his own mind, and he’d expect himself to take that first step.
so he does.
one, two, and then all the consecutive movements following, until he’s barely a step away from his middle-school classmate whose eyes are still so blue, tense and defensive, and kisumi has to take an effort to keep from reaching out - laying a hand on his shoulder, the top of his head. he smiles, because that is what he knows best, and laughs a little as the hand who’d been moving to close the distance between them changes course to the back of his own neck. ]
Makes two of us, eh Haru? No one will tell me anything.
[ he looks around, then, as if expecting some kind of cosmic shift to happen as soon as the words leave his mouth. like by saying it aloud, alone, would be enough to break him out of this state. but when nothing changes and he looks back to haru, he has his eyes closed. it pulls him out of his own state of confusion, focusing his attention away from where he is, how he got here, just to haru.
eyes closed, stubborn, frozen solid haru. kisumi clicks his tongue against his teeth, the tch echoing in his own mouth for a moment as his eyebrow lifts up, his head leaning down to try and catch haru’s gaze when he finally opens them up again.
which he doesn’t. not immediately, at least, and as kisumi waits he actually feels a bit amused by it. he thinks of a child, a tantrum, then lets the laugh escape past his lips. ]
Oi, Haru, what are you doing? [ and there goes his hand, despite the earlier effort, reaching forward to settle on haru’s shoulder. to grab his attention, to do something. that electric need that has been moving parallel to his own unsettling feeling hasn’t disappeared, and he wonders if it will.
why would haru be here? why is he? ] So mean…
/nestles here uwu
Listening.
[ comes the clipped answer but it's not clipped for shortness of temper nor even long-suffering cliches. haru just happens to use his words sparingly and without apology (mostly.) one eye, two eyes, one haru entirely zeroed in on the statement of 'so mean' with exactly 3.4 ounces of emotion to show for it: all of them flickers of confused annoyance.
mean?
he doesn't particularly feel mean but he supposes that doesn't make it wrong regardless.
a sigh traps itself under his tongue, punches against the backs of his teeth and gives up. ]
I'm going to find the water.
[ leagues shy of an invitation yet he did not have to disclose this at all, haru comes only so close to saying: i recognize you, this relieves me....i'm lost. we're lost. but he will absolutely magnetize to what overriding reality makes itself known to him with familiarity and while someone else might choose a person, haru chooses this. notably, it's not in this case that he thinks it will make him feel better; in fact, he has an aching, nauseous suspicion it will make him feel worse.
he can still hear rin's voice, a fire at fatal odds with haru who had already chosen not to listen -- because he felt not listened to as well, because he couldn't use his words as expertly, because...he doesn't know. he doesn't know.
even so. he wants to see the water here -- is it an ocean? is it a something else? the lighthouse suggests the former but he can't be certain without seeing it for himself even if already he is rather clear that he does not want to go in -- cause for alarm if anything is concerning haruka nanase but it's also private. and the lights of sirens alone aren't enough to clear the way.
he half turns, but his focus stays momentarily pinned on the other boy, the sharp glance of his cheekbone beneath a lavender eye.
haru has the mild and recurring thought: of all the people.
then he turns the rest of the way and starts walking. kisumi can follow or not; if neither of them has any answers then there exists -- as far as he can tell -- no definitive reason for them to shackle together save for being each other's only points of commonality. haru tells himself this is not nearly enough of a reason to insist or posit the idea in the first place; but some innate unease betrays him. he walks slower than normal and tells himself it's because he doesn't feel well.
it's not entirely a lie. ]
makes a nest
that is when haru's other eye opens, and kisumi just tilts his head, like maybe if he catches haru's gaze head on more of this would make sense. but it doesn't, and the unsettling nature of it all leaves kisumi feeling a bit like he's standing on a raft in the middle of the ocean. unstable, unmoored, unable to find footing in a ground that shifts with the gravity of the earth. i'm going to find water and kisumi is huffing out a laugh, dropping his hand from haru's shoulder, but he doesn't move to create any more space between them. he does feel better, in the proximity of someone he recognizes, knows, is familiar with, and while he might not know anything more than he did two minutes before - he feels better for it, can breathe a bit better for it.
kisumi is social to the bone, an extrovert in just about every sense of the word, and even if haru seems just as anoyed by his presence as he has been the last couple of times they've met, he's not about to let that dissuade him. it's just haru, after all, and kisumi doesn't feel anything negative from the soft sighs he gives, or the brush off of his own hands on haru's shoulders.
he assumes haru wants to go swimming, he assumes there's a swim suit under his damp-to-drying pants and he assumes that, while his gut is saying it's a bad idea, he won't be able to stop him.
so when haru turns, kisumi steps to follow. stops when haru turns back again - stares at him in that haru sort of way - and kisumi just smiles back, bright and easy. ] I'll follow. I already made it through town, anyway. No one there seems to have any real answers. I got a bunch of flyers but those aren't helping much either and- oi!
[ haru turns again, then, and keeps going - kisumi picking up his own speed a little to catch up and fall in step. there is just over three seconds before kisumi catches up, but he notices how haru slows anyway, smiling a bit to himself as he steps in next to him, sliding his hands in his own pockets for now. ]
Have you seen much else of this place, Haru? They brought me to that hospital, but they didn't seem too concerned. It's weird, isn't it? People washing up out of the ocean...