graveyardsmash | TEST DRIVE : MAY 2016 EDITIOIN

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test drive

TEST DRIVE : MAY 2016 EDITIOIN

TEST DRIVE

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:

You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
We now have a Quick Game Facts that simplifies the basic information about the game. Good if you want to see what the game is at a glance!
Ryslig's FAQ is located here, so please take a look if you have questions.

The Reserve date is MAY 20ST 12:01AM EST.
There is an Enable Me / App this Plz to see what some people are offering or would love to play.
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
Players with characters already in the game can earn up to a maximum of 6 coins by replying to potential character threads! You cannot use this to go over the bonus 20 coins per month total, but you can use it to reach that coin total. Same rules as normal bonuses apply.

Sample scenarios:

SCENARIO ONE: So you've just arrived, and already SOME the natives are trying to get on your good side. Offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all great pamphlets. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.

Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others. Sometimes they have marks on them from previous people who had them saying they are lies, or pointing out good "jokes."

Then there's the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky. Torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.

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. Or maybe they want you for lunch...

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.

SCENARIO FOUR: The claws, the fangs, the pangs of hunger - horrible as they all are, it's manageable given enough time and perseverance. Local monster hunters, though, not so much.

Maybe it started with a few wayward glances on the outskirts of town, critical stares and disapproving whispers, or just the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever it was, deserved or entirely unprovoked, you're being hunted: a handful of aggressive, well-armed humans doggedly chase your trail throughout city streets and out into the open, and if you're not careful (if you don't find help soon) you might wind up as the next trophy kill claim on one of those hunter's walls.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's strange. All this time, all this bearing up, all this resilience and coping and determination, and nine words out of Polnareff's mouth break him in half.]

How the hell can you say something like that?! Look at you!

[And all of a sudden it's just — it's a dam broken loose in his chest, water flooding out through the fine hairline cracks in the stone he's made of his soul, the stone he becomes every day in the sun if he's not careful, it's all spilling out, water damage, emotional damage, he's damaged and he has been for a long time and it's only just now that those flaws in the gemstone he's been are starting to show.

Polnareff was there with him. Polnareff is the only person who could even remotely come close to — Polnareff lost Abdul, Polnareff had someone die for him, Polnareff tried to save him and — and he's here and he's in a chair and he's lying, he's saying it's all right, he's saying I promise and it has to be a lie because how the hell can anything be all right if Polnareff's not?

He looks away immediately, fiercely. He has to, because if he's not careful he'll scream shut up, and if their eyes make contact then Polnareff will have to do it, and he'll never never never be like Dio never be like that no one's ever going to hurt Polnareff ever again never never never but they did and he doesn't know how or why and that's never never never all right

but

he's saying that it is.]

How the fuck is anything all right if you're sitting there looking like that?!

[He doesn't say, because at least I have my body back, although it's true. He doesn't say, because at least I have you here with me, although that's also true. There's nothing to say, no words that will make this suddenly all right. There's nothing that will stop this awful mixture of grief and rage; they just have to ride it out together. He'll let Jotaro rage and cry and when it subsides, he'll be there.

They've done it before, he and Jotaro, trading places as needed, leaning on each other too heavily and too often. He knows this dance.]

A lot has happened in thirteen years, Jotaro. Not all of it is bad, no matter what I look like.

[His voice is quiet, a little rough-- and he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against Jotaro. He won't crowd him if touch isn't what he wants-- but it's an invitation.]

[For a second, he goes rigid.]

...Thirteen years...?

[But as the words fade away into the night air, dissipating on the fog and the breeze, the tension that had held him still as a stone gradually begins to release. Despite himself, his wings stretch and shift in a way that almost suggests nervousness, and though he flinches away from the initial brush of fingers, he returns to it not long afterward, gravitating to actively seek it out.]

So. Not "January 16, 1988". Thirteen — for you it's 2001?

June 6th, 2001.

[He watches his wings stretch out for a moment, giving Jotaro a second. Just in case he wants a moment of privacy-- but soon he gives that up, and glances at his expression instead.]

I'm thirty-three. I live in Italy, and it-- it's good, what I have there. The people I know. I'll tell you about them, if you want. I'll tell you everything, but Jotaro-- it's okay. It really is.

Italy...?

[It makes him wonder, all of a sudden. About coincidences; about Stand users attracting Stand users. What are the chances that Giorno Giovanna was the person who put Polnareff in this chair?

...No. Slim. They're actually alike, aren't they, him and Polnareff? They have the same ideas about protecting the weak. He wonders if living in Italy means that Polnareff's picked up enough Italian to tell him what "sostegno" means.]

...I should get you out of here first. Those four won't come back, but that doesn't mean others won't.

[He hesitates. He knows what he wants to ask, but voicing it feels...weird.]

Will you let me carry you?

You need to ask?

[He winks at him. It's a sudden movement, too cheerful, and he accompanies it with a grin. That's the only way to treat this, after all: making it into a joke.]

Mon ami, I know I look different, but it's still me. You can sweep me off my feet anytime.

Shut up!

[He's still averting his eyes, so it's still fine. It's fine, and he doesn't look until he's well and truly certain that the commands are gone, replaced simply by idle baseless tsun.

It's then, and only then, that he approaches and examines the chair, working out how it's made and held together before bending and lifting Polnareff effortlessly into his clawed arms. It's a testament to his monstrous strength; even like this, Polnareff is hardly small or inconsequential in weight, but the gargoyle half of him has no reason to notice a burden like this. So he lifts easily, and carefully, and makes sure that Polnareff is both secure and settled in his hold before leaping and landing with his talons on the back of the chair.

His claws dig in; these features are made for gripping prey and holding them fast, so the chair itself is no difficulty. And once he's got hold of it, his wings spread wide, and with no further warning than that, they're launched into the air, towing the chair along while he continues to carry Polnareff securely in his arms.]

[--holy fuck. Holy shit, Christ, Jesus Christ, and it isn't until they're about fifty feet away that Polnareff realizes he's been saying all that aloud. But they're flying, and how the fuck is he expected not to shout during that?]

When the fuck did you learn this!

It's what I am, here.

[Here, he mentions specifically, because it seems like it matters. They're both different, certainly, but home made Polnareff what he is now, and Ryslig is what made him.]

Calm down. You think I'd let you fall? Asshole.

Excuse me, I've never flown before.

[--but now that he's gotten over his initial shock, this is kind of fun. Polnareff has a deathgrip on Jotaro's shirt, of course, but he manages to glance around, watching as the city slowly moves beneath them.]

Shit, Jotaro, this is amazing!

I've got you, Polnareff.

[It's in response to the deathgrip, of course, but this time the words come less gruff, more hushed, softer around the edges. It's not irritation that drives them so much as it is the compulsion to reassure, which isn't so much because he thinks Polnareff doubts him as maybe just that this is one of those things that anyone would need to hear a few times, to get used to it.

He's never had much of a learning curve for these giant upsets in his life, though, has he? Not personally. Something happens and he needs to figure it out in a hurry. Star was no different. This isn't, either.

He can't swoop and soar very well while he's towing the chair, but it's a steady and easy flight up onto a flat, mostly-concealed rooftop where they're away from the mobs, where he can set the wheelchair down and land but still hold on to Polnareff, just in case he's not ready to be deposited back into it yet.

...And maybe also because he's personally not ready to let go yet. Not when Polnareff might disappear if he does, or so some small irrational part of his mind insists.]

Part of this form involves being able to control prey — it's adapted for catching and carrying. So holding you while I fly doesn't feel unnatural. It goes with the instincts, not against them.

[He doesn't actually mind being carried around like Jotaro-- not when it's just the two of them, anyway. It's reassuring, in a way, to be pressed so close to him-- and it gives Polnareff a chance to glance him up and down, and take note of all those little changes.]

Yeah?

[Like: keep talking. Because yeah, he can see that, and he could probably draw some conclusions of his own from observation, but better to hear it from Jotaro's mouth. Scales and claws and horns--]

Are you a dragon?

[Not that it's such a bad thing! And he settles in a little, just in case Jotaro was thinking of putting him down after such a question-- because he's quite fine where he is, thanks.]

Edited 2016-05-07 18:52 (UTC)

[...Oh. Body language is always so much easier than words, anyway, and Polnareff's in particular is loud and clear — he knows he's safe. He knows he's fine. He knows Jotaro is different and monstrous and he doesn't mind.

It's sort of stupid, how deeply and profoundly that hits him.]

...Something like it. Yeah. Wings, scales, claws. Tail. I can breathe fire. I —

[He wants to not talk about fire powers, actually, to Polnareff. So he briefly frees a hand and turns the back toward Polnareff, showing him the design inlaid in scale there.]

It looks like Star Platinum, doesn't it?

Yeah!

[It does-- especially when he turns his hand up like that and the scales catch the light. Purple, just like Star, which--

It's hard, sometimes, knowing if he should bring things up. Sometimes their lives feel like a landmine field-- there's so much between them that's hard to say, that should or shouldn't be brought up. It's not Jotaro; Giorno's the same way. He's the same way.

He'll ask about Star later. He knows the grief of losing a Stand, but they're still working through Polnareff's own appearance. He won't force Jotaro through another emotional wringer so early in the night.]

Shit, now you just have to shout ora every time you punch people and you're set. Which shouldn't be too hard, here, actually-- you might get into more fights here than home, I think.

It's not really suited to punching. But that's fine.

[A little awkwardly, he gathers Polnareff in closer, on the pretense of checking his grip and making sure he's supporting him adequately.]

...Did...

[...]

I can — if you want to fly again, I...no one will come up here and fuck with the chair, is what I mean, so...

Holy shit, yeah!

[He should probably be a little less enthusiastic about that-- and he is, a little, truly, not quite as enthusiastic as he's making himself sound. But flying is fun, and if Jotaro likes to do it-- well, it'd be nice to do something with him that isn't wrought in death and despair and sadness. Just for once. Call it a change of pace.]

Come on, fly me to the moon.

You stupid...yare yare, thirteen years and you're still the same guy as ever.

[HE'S NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING. NO ONE'S CRYING BUT THERE'S FIGURATIVE CRYING.

There is also not-figurative flying, and this time the launch is less like a rocket and more like a bird taking flight, smoother and less aggressive but with the same secure hold.

Polnareff sounded happy. Even with the screaming and the shock, there was delight in it. That's all he wants, is to make him feel that again. That's all he wants — just to make someone happy, and see it, and feel the emotion that comes with it.]

Next you'll want me to go pick up a girl so you can flirt with her while I cart your ass around.

Well, yeah, if you're offering--

[He still clings to Jotaro, his fingers knotted in his shirt, because no matter how sure he is that Jotaro won't let him fall, it's still terrifying. But it's terrifying in a good way, like peering off the edge of a tall building-- his stomach swoops and drops, but it's all right, because there's something wonderfully secure about Jotaro's arms.]

This is amazing! Ahh, Christ, look at that--

[And he's happy, he really is. A little squirmy, maybe, as he twists to glance around, but: happy.]

Tell me you do this all the time.

Feh.

[That was probably directed at the part about the girl; he tilts his wings and sends them into a long slow turn, making a wide circle around that same area so Polnareff can keep looking at the sights that are catching his eye, if he so desires.

...Presumably because Jotaro naturally assumes that he is not one of those aforementioned sights. Though he certainly might be.]

It doesn't go away. The wings and shit, so. ...It makes some things easier, but other things aren't.

[...]

I can't go out in the sun, Polnareff.

[That puts a bit of a damper on things, doesn't it? And-- well. It's been thirteen years for him, but if Jotaro is still seventeen, it's only been a few months for him. Any similarity to Dio, no matter how small, can't sit well in his mind.]

Yeah, well-- who likes the sun anyway?

[Fuck the sun. It's a shitty ball of gas and it was a shitty stand.]

All the best clubs are open at night, so now you've got no excuse not to come dancing with me.

[And he offers him half a grin, inviting him in on the joke-- go on, make fun of him, tease him about dancing and picking up girls and stupid European nightclubs, because it's easier to do that than focus on the fact that things are changing again.]

[His kneejerk reaction is, of course, to fixate on the issue of Polnareff's legs. And he almost does, too; the words make it right to the tip of his tongue, and it's all too tempting to let them free — you can't, I've got every excuse, don't say that, are you just an idiot.

But then he slowly realizes that it's just Polnareff doing it again. Polnareff saying it's all right, I'm all right, in a different way with different words. Like he's going to keep saying it and saying it until he can get Jotaro to believe it.

And he doesn't, not really, but he wants to.]

You...couldn't get girls when you were at full height. How the hell do you think you're going to get any when you're half a meter shorter?

[...That was terrible. Petty, rude. Insensitive. A cheap shot.

He catches himself holding his breath, subconsciously praying Polnareff will catch what he meant.]

[--but it's perfect. Because it's Jotaro, and it's so fucking rude, and Polnareff barks out a laugh before he realizes it. Because then it makes the issue of his legs seem like it's nothing at all-- like it's just another thing, like it's normal.]

Get fucked, you bastard-- just because you're not scoring here doesn't mean you get to take it out on me. You're lucky I don't just leave you for some girl right now, with an attitude like that.

You're not leaving me right now because we're two hundred meters in the air, dumbass.

[...Oh. Oh, it turned out okay. How incomprehensible — something should've gone wrong, and it turned out okay.

This is what hope feels like, isn't it.]

And cut the stupid flirting shit. You're twice my age now, it's even dirtier than usual.

I'm allowed to flirt. You don't stop being able to flirt once you hit twenty-five, Jotaro, sorry to break it to you.

[Not all of us get married, he might tease, but Jotaro might actually drop him, and he had a good point: two hundred meters in the air. So, instead:]

Thirty-three-- I've got so much to teach you about life, my young teenage friend.

Not with a teenager, you filthy old man.

[Says the guy all of about four weeks shy of his eighteenth birthday, but you know.]

Why are you in Italy? I thought you were going back to France.

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