graveyardsmash | TEST DRIVE MEME

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TEST DRIVE MEME

TEST DRIVE MEME: SEPTEMBER

Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!

SCENARIO ONE

You wake up on the beach thoroughly drenched with your mouth full of sand. The salt water causes various cuts and scrapes on your skin to sting and the sand isn't helping. The air is slightly humid, ruining any feeling of refreshment you might have gotten from your dip in the ocean. There are lights in the distance but the unfriendly scent of gunpowder fills the air. If you're lucky, you're alone. If not, you might find yourself staring up into a pair of monstrous eyes or down the barrel of a local's shotgun.

SCENARIO TWO

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 THREE

"Seek us out," the voice whispers in your head, and before you have time to question it you've found yourself in someplace entirely alien. Maybe it's the Fog God's ghostly town of Dyster, where exultant followers dance around bonfires and sing their praises to the skies above. Maybe it's the Fourth God's arcade, with small robots wheeling about amidst the lights and colors of old pinball machines. Only one thing is certain: you are not alone, in this sacred place.

SCENARIO FOUR

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.

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2; This isn't Kansas

[Ginko reads the pamphlet in her hand again. It was utter nonsense. What was all of these 'monsters'? Bears were the biggest threat to humans, weren't they? Werebear, though. She was one of those already, wasn't she?

Tilting her head she sniffs the air. It's strangely... scentless. It's something that makes her shiver slightly. This entire area should be rich in smells and sounds. Yet, there it was. It wasn't.]

Growl... This place is weird.

4; Wildcard

[The fog a few days ago had brought changes, yes. Black fur was beginning to sprout on the back of her neck, extending down her back. The headache of the little bumps jutting out of her hair were annoying. Ginko had nearly rubbed the spot raw with her long (if ultimately dull) fingernails.

At least a wash had gotten most of the blood out. Most.

Though, what she had decided was a good thing about these changes? Was the return of her senses. Once more she could smell the pleasures of the city. To enjoy the particular scents of crowded areas and--is she heading towards a lone woman.

Sniffing the air she says:]

Growl.

[The woman blinks as Ginko continues.] You smell good.

The last thing Draco remembered, it had been his birthday. He'd gone to sleep in his bed, surrounded by soft pillows and a downy duvet, the windows slightly cracked to let a wonderful breeze cut through the June warmth. He had been happier than he'd been in a long time, just glad that his immediate family had survived the war to make it to his 18th; that the party hadn't been filled with dozens of his acquaintances and hadn't been the party of the season didn't even bother him. He'd gone to sleep content and full of cake and hors d'oeuvres and the knowledge that his parents loved him, strange and awkward as some things still were.

By that logic, he would wake up in that same bed, surrounded by soft pillows and a downy duvet, the window probably still open since he couldn't rely upon a house-elf to shut it when it got too cold. But apparently this morning wouldn't follow that logic, because he woke up shivering, his face pressed against sand instead of a pillow. There was nothing pleasant about any of this, and that was just his initial response. He hadn't even gotten to the stinging cuts marring his skin, nor the fact that his mouth tasted like rank chalk, nor the fact that everything was uncomfortably sticky.

He sat up slowly, spitting out traces of sand that still clung to his tongue, and wrinkled his nose distastefully, glowering around the apparently empty beach. It was both a blessing and a curse: on one hand, he didn't fancy anyone seeing him like this, but on the other hand, Draco had no idea where the hell he was, and he'd rather like someone to yell at about that fact.

Something about the idea of yelling at someone made him feel better, and he made a mental note to do so with the first person who came by.

[ooc: A COUPLE THINGS. One, her name's just pronounced "Suzy". Her name is a bitch to spell, sorry.
But two, HSM is a real dark film with some real dark concepts and situations; while I'm gonna keep away from anything heavy since lol tdm, she might mention stuff about death/murder/sexual whatnots/etc., just as a general warning. Puppets are fucked up, yo.
If that makes you uncomfortable, please don't be nervous about telling me so!]

[A - let's assume it's nighttime because Reasons]

[Oh, man. There are a lot of unpleasant things Siouxsie's gone through in life, but up until now? A mouthful of sand had been thankfully left off the list.
Check that one off, apparently. That is horrid. Mix that up with the literal salt in her actual wounds, and it's just a recipe for one grumpy Puppet.

She reaches up to her face to brush the sand off of it, grimacing lightly as she does her very best to stand... only to realize - hang on a second.
She's touching her face. As in - her actual face. Hand to skin.
Which means anyone who happens to be watching or... just within earshot at all gets to hear a string of lovely, ladylike curses from a woman who wouldn't look out of place in a Tim Burton film, as she tries to cover her face in her hands - scanning the beach with bleary eyes as she tries to find at least a little of that familiar white...]

What the - where the hell is my mask...!?

[B - and now it gets to be daytime, also because Reasons]

[Okay, the sand was bad. The injuries? Worse. Losing her mask for who knows how long? Terrible. But this?
This is torture. She'd found a nice, comfortable place to stay for the night - needing to rest for some stupid reason she can't quite figure out - and when she'd awoken, it wasn't because she wanted to.
It was because some horrible death ray decided to zap through her window, hitting her eyelids like a slap across the face. Certainly woke her up, at least.

But now, everything is decidedly more difficult. Information would be nice, as would a bite to eat... yet as it stands, she can hardly walk down the sidewalk without stumbling into things like a blind woman, her hands over the eyeholes of her mask; but whenever she moves them to try and see?
All she can do is suck in a sharp breath of pain, immediately covering them again.

So, y'know. Hopefully you're not just standing around... because she's certainly bound to run into someone eventually. And literally!
At least it means she's found someone she can interrogate about this - letting out a shaky, not at all mirthful laugh like someone's just pulling a meanspirited prank on her.]

Hey - you're not just standing around 'cause you're as blind as I am, right?
What's with the big ball of death hanging out in the sky? Is that what's making everything too fucking bright?

[Where she comes from... daytime is just nonexistent. The concept of actual days at all doesn't exist - how could it when the world's constantly plunged in eternal nighttime?
But that means Siouxsie's suffering like a bat who woke up at the wrong time - the sunlight making it near impossible for her to see without hurting.]

[Hiyoko's wings make a good feathering wall when someone much taller than he runs into her her. She snarls as she turns around.]

What kind of shit-headed pigwoman are you? Going around like you're some kind of knuckle-dragging caveman--go back to your hole, crap for brains.

Edited 2016-09-09 04:48 (UTC)

01
[She chokes and she can taste the grime, the thickness of the sand within her mouth, between her teeth but she's tasted worst before. The wetness clings to her clothes, worn with years of tear from another owner, her hair damp and the first thing she thinks of is I can't swim. The salt water sticks to the small open wounds that litter her skin and it burns, but it's not the worst pain she's felt. Alone though, she is alone and being alone is no longer so familiar, she never really has been. Coughing, she spits the sand onto the ground as she pushes herself up with a breath as eyes look over the area, the scent in the air, the way it clings to her, humid and scented with the residue of guns loaded into the body of a corpse. Behind her the ocean stands, the waves rolling up onto the shore, dampening her footwear more than it has already, the heavy jacket on her torso is stifling compared to the winter from where she came.

Ellie has never seen the ocean before, it's a distraction, a different sort of outside but there is tension there, resting on her shoulders. Back where she came there is someone she is looking after, back from where she came it was snowing.]

Okay, okay.

[The fourteen year old repeats to herself as she tries to grasp her surroundings, tries to find the lay of the land, brushing sand off the front of her, the wet granules falling to reunite with the ground. Her pack is gone, her knife is gone, her bow is gone and she is alone. There is not a soul in sight, only the clothes on her back are what she remembers of the moment before she opened her eyes, before she was suddenly washed up upon a shore. Swallowing a heavy breath she moves towards the foliage. There is safe, there is cover, she's thinking like she should back from where she came and there are plenty things to hide behind. Whoever approaches, human or beast, the hybrid between, she is quick to round the nearest tree, press her back flat against it, slow her breathing and if need be, she can use her body, she will leap from the brush, she will fight back, but only if need be. Hopefully, they will leave her be, but to approach too quickly is a mistake on anyones part.]

Wow, aren't you nice?

[The tone's as snotty as one would expect from a reply like that, of course. Like, c'mon - she hasn't done anything wrong yet!]

Look, shortcake - I just wanna figure out where I am, not get into a fight with a furry, little...

[Peering out through her mask from behind her hand - and god that sun is just too bright.
Gotta hide her eyes again.]

... Whatever the hell you are.
It's not my fault I can't see!

1)

[Jasper spits sand and water out, reviled by the grit left between her teeth and under her tongue. It's almost obnoxious enough to overwhelm the sensory overload she has coming in her nostrils, but not quite. Mostly because she's not supposed to have nostrils and the sheer fact that she can smell is throwing her world upside-down more than being in a strange location is.

She stays half-prone on the ground, eyes darting back and forth, uncomprehending. She's also gasping for air, something she usually only did when injured as many gems got used to taking in air when speaking although they didn't need it otherwise.

Her whole form is wrong. It had been wrong before, of course, twisted by Earth's corruption, but this is something else entirely. This body doesn't function like a gem body. It functions like...

...a human one.

She'd rather be corrupted.

Jasper cries out in anger, fingers digging into the wet sand as she tries to pull herself upright. She'd be putting on a more violent display if she wasn't still coughing, spitting, and trying to get this whole breathing thing down.]

3)

Who's there? Stop talking to me!!

[Jasper slams her fist into a nearby lamp post. Normally this could destroy the object, but as a human she isn't quite as physically powerful as she'd been as a gem and she's left rubbing the side of her hand. Why does she have to feel everything?

She makes her way through Bavan in a Mood, ignoring the looks she gets as she does.]

[She roll her eyes, tail curling around herself protectively as Hiyoko moves aside. Her claws extend slightly to show off their sharpness.]

It's not my fault you crawled out of your cave, you orangutan. Go drag your knuckles back to the sewers so you can stuff yourself some more. If you bump into me claiming you don't know what the sun is don't expect any sympathy.

[Sorry, Hiyoko... if you were expecting fear, you'll have to look elsewhere.
Even if Siouxsie could see those claws, she'd still trashtalk to her last breath.]

Man, are you having a bad day or something, halfpint?
Where I come from, we don't have a "sun" or whatever the fuck that thing is. What's the point of getting mad at me for something I can't help, huh?
Don't you know how to control your temper like a proper little lady?

You probubbly don't want to listen to 'em anemoneway. Only fins here that persistent are the ones who call themshellves gods.

[Perched on top of a lamppost close to the one that got itself punched is a grey-skinned harpy, tall and wiry and with a large, golden trident in one hand. With the horns on her head and the sharp teeth that show when she gives a thin smile, she doesn't look like she was ever particularly human either.

Slinging the weapon, which is almost as tall as her, over her back and standing up, Meenah looks Jasper up and down through fuchsia glasses.]

You new? Don't look human, but we need more non-humans 'round here. Or ones who were before this place got to 'em.

The great thing about the wilderness is there was always a weapon available and in this case it was a smooth rock, worn away by the waters. Granted it wasn't the same as a knife, a bow or a gun, but it was something and something to carry, something that was an easy weight and fit in the palm of her hand, easily hid, easy to use in a worse case scenario and well, when she spotted the blonde on the beach, spitting the sand out of his mouth, she was wary, but there was no need to throw stones.

Yet.

Who knew if this world was like her own, infected or not, Ellie had not run across anyone to prove her otherwise. At the moment in time the place just seemed empty and her arrival, along with his, didn't really scream logic, more a bad dream or some estranged hallucination. Whatever it was, as she moved cautiously down the beach, following the flow of the surf, looking out over a sight she had never seen before; the ocean, she kept her distance to the frustrated figure, watching him carefully. Tentatively, he looked young enough, younger than her maybe, older perhaps, she wasn't sure, age didn't matter much where she came from but again, who knew in a strange new world.

"Hey."

Ellie called out, only loud enough for the other to hear, hesitant, to see whether fight was necessary, or perhaps she had found someone else in the same situation. Either way, she was prepared as much as she could be.

The beaches of Vandare are not where Damen usually finds himself, but this is about the time new people begin to wash up, or appear out of thin air, or however the fog god chooses to pull in her newest batch of toys. He slithers across the sand looking for faces, familiar or not, who might need a hand in getting out of Vandare and away from hostile locals; his thirty feet of snake body leaves a massive, thick, winding trail in the sand behind him.

From the waist up, he looks relatively normal, if rather large for a person or a naga, and he has a hand on the knife in his belt. When he spots someone moving down the beach, someone not moving with purpose like the local hunters, he calls out, "Are you alright there?"

You expect me to just take it when you run into me and start asking what the light is. Don't blame me for the fact you're stumbling around like a drunk.

[She snorts.]

A noble has the right to be angry at commoners and lowlifes.

Ohhhh, you're a noble, huh?
What, are you some hoity-toity warlord's daughter or something?
Not hard to be "noble" with how quick daimyo are to knock up any old woman they pick up off the streets.

[That snort gets mirrored with a scoff - but honestly?
She's starting to sound a little amused. Like she hasn't had a good argument in ages.
Even though she... can't exactly see who she's arguing with.]

I'll have you know, I'm not some run of the mill bimbo who runs around dragging her heels like a peasant - I'm a high class celebrity where I come from! My posters were plastered in every village in the country!
Even the Lord Wor had my posters before my friend slaughtered him!

[Don't... mention killing a man so casually?? That's not how conversations work??]

Don't be stupid, even if that were the case, the daimyo are long gone. Centuries old--a noble family with hundreds of years of history wouldn't be uprooted with one case of infedility.

[She sniffs a little more. This... woman definitely smelled of sand and surf. Jeeze, stupid new arrivals.]

Beside, you don't dress like someone who comes from the era of the samurai. You look like some 'bimbo' who's spent her life in the city.

[Who even talks like that? Jasper takes a moment to locate the speaker, tilting her head upward and squinting skyward. She has to run the words through her head several times in order to make sense of them since she doesn't get all the sea references.

The last part she gets, though, so that's what she focuses on.]

I'm not human.

[She grits her teeth, defiant about this despite every part of her body that tells her otherwise, from way the smells from the bakery down the street cause her empty stomach to protest to the way her heart pounds in her chest with her frustration.

It doesn't matter how she looks or feels. She's a gem. She's not this weak.]

Merlin help anyone who dared to throw a rock at him. It would be the icing on the cake for him right that moment, adding injury to insult instead of the other way around. He wasn't partial to waking up in strange places, clearly far and away from his parents, and the more he thought about it, the more Draco wondered if he hadn't been kidnapped from his bed by people keen on taking out the last couple of free Death Eaters.

The idea had his heart in his throat, fear bubbling up to both overpower and fuel his anger. But so far, no one had shown up to laugh and kick sand in his face, nor to tell him that they were making demands of his parents. That was a...worrying sign, but tentatively good.

However, the greeting, no matter how casual, had him jumping slightly where he sat, still shivering on the sand. His nerves were too shot for this.

Grey eyes snapped to Ellie, the look in them just slightly manic with anxiety. "This had better not be your doing," he called back, sneering automatically, as though that would somehow make him come off as more intimidating than he was.

...

[Actually, what she just said is weird. Long gone? Sure, Wor's dead as a doorknob - but it's only been like... what, a day?
Hard to tell when you don't have a sun to fucking measure days with.]

You must be off your rocker, girlie.
One - I know plenty of samurai. I was close with the best one in the country! The Prince of Marionettes himself!
Two - I'm like, pretty sure we're talking about completely different daimyo, here.

"Noble" is the last thing I'd call a man like Wor. Sold his own son's face to the Devil for his own benefit - and for what?
Just to get sliced in half by his own son, like a twisted fuck deserves.

[A short pause -]

And three, I guess; I'm gonna take that as a compliment.
It's not like I've got any reason to dress like some clumsy geisha or something, even though I'd be totally worth three-pronged geta.

[Said as she clicks the black, boot-like geta she's wearing against the asphalt, of course.
Saionji's probably way knowledgeable about this sort of topic... she should know Siouxsie's talking about oiran here, not geisha.]

"No!" Draco bit out at the call, not even bothering to look up just yet. He was too focused on brushing sand off his very nice pyjamas in the hope that it might make him feel somewhat better about being somewhere in said pyjamas with no wand, no shoes, and his hair a proper mess. He was frightened and angry and his skin was stinging something awful, and he'd never done that well with pain. None of this seemed to be going away, which meant it wasn't just a horrible nightmare, and the idea of having been kidnapped was becoming very real indeed.

Someone was going to hear about this. His father, maybe. Hopefully. If he survived long enough to find him.

Draco twisted, tugging a little at his shirt to see if he'd gotten all the sand off of it. An impossible feat, since wet sand seemed to like to cling to wet fabric, which in turn clung to wet teenage boys. He stifled a frustrated noise, then finally glanced up to Damen and promptly screamed, abandoning his task in favour of making an attempt to run.

It failed. Miserably. Sand gave way beneath his feet, and after two steps, the blond went down, stumbling and going back down, face-first, into it. He probably deserved as much. "What the hell?"

one;;
[There is a tiny brunette on the beach. Waking up wet and covered in sand would piss her off enough as it is but waking up wet with some hick pointing a gun in her face? Double pissed off. Luckily it's never taken her long to gather her wits so her first action is the kick the guy in the shin, just to knock him down. Then she takes his gun from him and smacks him in the back of the head with it. He's probably just stunned. Probably]

The fuck do you think you're doing, pointing this at strangers? Dumbass. [She examines the shotgun in her hand before shrugging] Keeping this, though. Now, where the fuck am I? [She glances down at the guy on the ground, snorting and kicking him in the ribs for good measure]

Guess if you hadn't been such a dick I could've asked you. Oh well.

[sand. wet sand everywhere. in places Pearl did not even know she had. and what is this gasping for air, this coughing? since when had she needed to do that?

she rolls onto her back, staring up at the darkened sky. something doesn't feel right. in fact, a lot of things don't feel right, but she's in too much of daze to really figure out what those things are.

that's when she hears a familiar sound, one that makes her go cold, for some reason. again, weird. she begins pushing herself up to her feet, and that is when she sees Jasper. immediately, she gets to wobbling feet, her hand going to her forehead and...

and. nothing. nothing happens!]

What the... Where's my gem?!

[Soeki still comes to Vandare for new arrivals most times. He's been here since October, and he's long stopped expecting anybody he actually knows to show up, but he can point the scared, confused newbies in the right direction. He's trudging along the beach in bear form, despite the sun being up, because it makes him more of a threat that the locals are less likely to go after. He leaves massive pawprints in the sand behind him.

That's when he stops, keen ears catching wind of a voice he hasn't heard in- in months. He almost thinks he's hallucinating, that happens sometimes, doesn't it? He bounds closer on all fours, and stops, several yards from the familiar, tiny figure, currently holding a shotgun and kicking a guy in the ribs.]

Oh my god. Oh my god! Eira!

[That sure is a large North American black bear, with eerie gold eyes and a coat patterned in tan necromancy designs, bounding up to her, shouting words in her brother's voice.]

Like hell I am.

First, 'Prince of Marionettes'? What the hell? Who would call themselves that? None of the famous samurai ever went by that name.

[A wave of her hand.]

Secondly, the daimyo have been in decline for over four centuries and went practically extinct over a century ago. Sure, there's some families that have links but they're just politicians. To add to that point, some of the daimyo are basically national heroes. One only has to think of the Oda Nobunaga!

[She rolls her eyes again, waving her paw in defiance again.]

Thirdly? You shouldn't be. You don't even have the terms correct.

[Oh dear, what an uncouth display. He can't help himself but to walk a bit closer, the cats he's collected trailing behind him. He doesn't get too close but he can see it's a hulking form. A woman, maybe.

Her hands must be huge... how repulsive.

A comment about how someone had showed up already transformed crosses his mind but he decides to keep such a comment to himself. He can chuckle about it later with the cats and his girlfriend. He lets his fingers dip into his pocket and brush against said girlfriend's cool skin. She'd find it hilarious.

Yes, the girlfriend is just a hand. Whose currently in his pocket. It's quite alarming, everyone can agree on that, but not all that important. Jasper won't be talking to her. And she of course can't talk back!]

It's usually not a good idea to inhale the water. But that's just my personal take when it comes to breathing and all that. [It's a rude thing to say, he was in the same situation when he showed up in this wretched place. The fog has given him a bit of... a bad personality.]

Hey, don't nag me over terms - I'm not a geisha myself. I've got a strict "look, don't touch" policy!

[She doesn't want anyone ruining the merch, man.
The rest though... even though it hurts, she finally moves her hand away from her mask - just so she can look down at her through the eyeholes in confusion.]

... Something's not right, here.
First, I've never heard of this "Nobunaga" guy - Wor's been alive for, like, ever thanks to the whole "sold his son to the Devil" shebang.
We've never had anyone but that old bastard.

Second, the Prince of Marionettes calls himself the Prince of Marionettes because he's a fucking Marionette.
What else would you call a Puppet who actually gives a shit?
Besides a pansy, I mean.

And what's with the "famous samurai" thing? He's the only famous samurai... and that's just 'cause he's a Marionette.
The rest are just as shitty the rest of the Puppets in the land.

[Siouxsie's making no effort in separating herself from that group. She's a Puppet like the rest of them, after all!
All Puppets are horrible and they know it. No exceptions.]

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TEST DRIVE MEME

Ginko Yurishiro | Yurikuma Arashi

Draco Malfoy | Harry Potter | 01

Siouxsie Silen | Heart String Marionette

B

Ellie | The Last of Us

thank u for existing saionji

Jasper | Steven Universe

that may be the only time anyone says that

I'LL HAPPILY REPEAT IT TOO

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you'll give me a complex!

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Eira Weston-Crowe | Original

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