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graveyardsmash2014-09-20 12:15 pm
rysligmods) wrote in graveyardsmash2014-09-20 12:15 pm
TEST DRIVE MEME
| TEST DRIVE MEME | ||
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:
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. |
Sicks | Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro
[This was not part of the plan.
Then again, nothing had been, lately, but Sicks was more surprised by this turn of events than anything else. There was a blank spot in his memory between the attack on the back roads and waking up in an unfamiliar hospital, feeling strangely ... devoid. The explanations given were ridiculous. The realization that he had no choice but to accept them, even more so. And what was worst - if there was a worst - was that every attempt to crush the humans around him to groveling paste by exerting his aura didn't work, though he noted a few nervous looks his way. It's enraging beyond belief, and baffling just as much.
But he is nothing if not adaptable. After a while they let him out, once all the scrapes had been bandaged up, and now he's left to roam free, with no advice, no suggestions, and endless possibilities at hand, within reason. He ignores the people ignoring him, strides down the streets, sorting through plans in his head, knowing that even with no underlings here he can get a foothold in somewhere. And maybe kill a few people along the way -
His shoulder grazes someone, knocking them both aside. The carefully buried rage flares up again, but all he does is turn to whoever it was and smile politely, though anyone with sense will be able to tell that the smile never even gets close to reaching his eyes.]
Pardon me. I wasn't paying attention.
[three; wendigo.]
[The rumors come true as the fog rolls in. He can feel it in his blood and bones, in every part of him that loathes this shallow human existence that was forced on him by his arrival. Sicks stops where he is and waits, hands in his pockets, expecting something impressive, something really monstrous. He deserves no less. All he's felt so far is an unsuitable hunger that refuses to be satisfied, and that's hardly fitting for him.
There's a pain in his mouth and hands and head. Sharp, like wounds. He withdraws his hands and finds the nails have left tears in the leather; they're sharp now, pointed, and stronger than before. He examines them in idle fascination as the pain in his mouth grows worse. After a moment, he spits out a tooth into his hand. Then another. Eventually there's four there, and in their place are sharp fangs, something from another branch of the evolutionary tree taking up residence in his so-evolved self. He tests the points with his tongue, tastes blood in return.
Strange. But not, he thinks, entirely unwelcome.
The pain in his head throbs dully just under the skin. It feels like something intends to break through there. Sicks ignores it in favor of listening to his heart stutter and slow - and after a moment, the sound of footsteps nearby, making him turn, peering into the gloom with eyes that are already unnatural enough on their own without the yellow cast starting to overtake them.]
Two wendigos walk into a bar?
He had been hoping for food, and had been going along the floor to look for a scent, tearing his torn military khakis and shirt up even further. When he meets the other creature's eyes there's a momentary reflection of sameness before the hunger returns. His own teeth fell out days (days? Or was it hours ago?) And he's distracted by the lethargy in his chest, the beats in between his ribs slowing and stopping and slowing and stopping.
It's distracting. His own yellow eyes meet the other mans and he tries to crawl to his feet.]
I could hear you a long way off--
[Only to be distracted by the sudden sharp sound of something in the bushes that forces him to drop to his knees again, digging around with his fingers. Ripping away at the skin. Animals, he heard it, he heard food.]
no subject
Slowly, feeling a little sluggish (how irritating, can't his body deal with this properly?), he approaches the man, watching him dig violently through the foliage in a wild search for something. How long has this been going on, he wonders? Long enough to leave him filthy and shredded and desperate. Sicks idly flicks his fallen teeth into the bushes further away to free up his hand, just in case, and prods the digging man with a foot.]
Looking for something?
[The hunger gnaws at the inside of his gut, demanding to be fed, to be sated, but he ignores it as he has before, as he's ignoring the pain still insistent in his skull. There are more important things to deal with right now than the pitiful human - or not so human - needs of the body.]
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Needs it.
He snaps it with a deft movement, practiced, before he holds it firmly in one hand and starts climbing to his feet.]
...Found it.
[He's never been inhuman before. This is a new experience. It's taking all of his willpower not to shove the thing in his mouth like a chicken mcnugget and when he's on his feet again he laughs. Mouth open revealing his fangs.]
...Been stuck in here for a day and a half trying to ...cope.
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At the laugh, the baring of the fangs - ah, that's very familiar. Sicks smiles in turn, entirely friendly except for an identical set of fangs, as well as the fact that the smile is slightly off. Not quite fake, but not exactly pleasant, either.]
An unusual coping strategy you've developed, then. I can't help but approve. [What else is hiding in these woods, he wonders? What else is the fog driving people to do, here at the depths of their lost humanity?] Don't mind me. Do whatever it is you were planning on doing.
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Defiantly, he sank his teeth into the squirrel and realized two things:
It was delicious.
It would have tasted better alive.
He chewed it all down, meat, paws and bones before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.]
...Awfully calm for... [his nostrils flare.] ...awfully calm. For all of this.
[unless it wasn't happening to anyone else. Unless it was just him. he scratched at his head. There's a set of red welts, large red welts just under his hair line.]
Enjoying the show?
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But he clamps down on it. He is in control, damn it all. Only the sudden stillness of him attests to the strain.]
I enjoy the sight of people struggling to overcome the inevitable, yes. The despair and disappointment when they fail is always a pleasure. [His eyes fix on the blood smeared across the man's hands.] I was waiting for this to happen, so of course I'm calm. All that's left is to determine what exactly I'm becoming.
[Once whatever wants to escape his skull does so, he figures it'll be a little more straightforward. For now, he waits, and watches his unsteady companion.]
one (also, PARDON ME FOR SHRIEKING)
. . . and as for Sai, personally, well. Being bumped into, or over-looked, has fairly quickly become somewhat normal. By now he's experienced a healthy number of changes: longer, pointed ears, a mild greenish tiny to his skin; longer (clawed) nails on his feet and hands (made a little easier, once he began to regularly file); spikes here and there along his shoulders and elbows, and not to mention an itty bitty set of wings. Ah, right! And magic. — Amidst it all, too, though, is how he's gone from around 5'2" (small enough, to begin with, really) to around 4'8", but it isn't too bad. He most certainly still wishes he had absolute control over changing, however, but oh well, right?
After all. All of this has been quite fun and amusing and so very intriguing, regardless.
For the most part, though, in these moments, it's his height that has the other nearly bump into him, likely overseen, in general. ]
That's not a good habit to fall under. [Not here.] But, it's fine~
i said i'd app him and he is totally being apped
The voice is familiar, even if there's something wrong with the form it's in. Shrunken, greenish, spiked, winged - but he meets those eyes, and he will always, always recognize those, no matter how twisted the body that holds them becomes. They're his. They belong to only one other person in existence.
For the first time in his life, words actually fail him. It's only for a few moments, but for a man like him, that's significant.]
... Eleven. Why did you take that form again?
[But even as he says it, there's a suspicion in the back of his mind, setting the terribly unfamiliar sensation of doubt onto him. It's almost unbelievable to consider, but the thought drops in anyway:
This isn't Eleven.]
yes and ilysm for it
Then, there's the second fact: hearing those words, "that form again" leaves him a little curious. Of course he does look different from when he first arrived, but also, this current appearance is nothing he can simply shift back and forth with. And though he has mentioned here and there that he normally can change his shape however he pleases, no-holds-barred, it's something that he, quite honestly, has kept a little quieter about. Potentially as he can no longer use that as a way to evade any murders he might, has, and will commit along the line.
So, really, he might be put off. To one degree or another.
All he does, though is blink ]
Eleven. . .? Nope, not me. [however, a bit of a grin after that; excited, in a way.] But you'll change, too. Everyone who's brought here will, with not a single exception. This is just the form I ended up with!
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This is her from before. Phantom Thief Sai, that was it: the wretched, irreverent, troublesome child who'd caused him so much grief for so long, even if the results once they'd dragged him back to the labs were beyond what he'd ever predicted they would be. Only changed, now, into something stranger.
And there isn't a hint of recognition there. How can that be possible? Even like this, Sai should remember him, should know him as the one who slaughtered that woman, brought down the helicopter, dragged him back home at long, long last. Sicks does not go forgotten, not by anyone, not even by something with no real memory. So why now?
What Sai says barely registers with him in his annoyance and unhappily-admitted confusion. He holds back a glower and faces the boy fully, practically looming over him, judging the changes, the fact that this isn't the child it should be.]
So I see. [Everyone, is it. Well, things can't exactly get worse than they are already.] I must have been mistaken. What is your name, then?
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So, for a few moments, he simply takes in the sight before him, until giving an equally basic reply.]
I'm Sai. [Mentioning the "Phantom Thief" title was both useless, and pretty outdated, in his opinion. A beat, then.] Who's asking?
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He pauses for a few moments before answering as well, trying to determine the truth of the situation without any of it showing on his face.]
My name is Sicks. [Intently, he watches for any sign of recognition, of familiarity, of his name causing the visceral reaction he's used to it causing. This place has been so disappointing in that regard.] I believe I've heard of you.
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The second part to that reply, however, drives the curiosity even deeper, still. It's even thrilling, in ways.]
Well, of course I'm known by many. [which he's very used to; however, his appearance - or at least the default one he grew into using - not exactly. Ai, Neuro, and Yako (and two others, maybe, whose names he can't recal; a police officer, and some punk, was it?) are the only primary ones.
So, what is this?]
That's something I've yet to hear in this world. How interesting! But, maybe you're not so new, here, after all?
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Does he tell the boy everything? See what happens next - if he's even believed? Here, there are no subordinates or laboratories, no access to the things that can remake a false identity into a true one. He doesn't doubt his ability to defend himself, either, but the fact remains that this is his work, and will react as such. How to address this ... ]
I'm afraid I was just picked up off the beach with the rest of the newcomers. [His tone is light and casual, even if there's a darkness in his eyes. Then again, there always is.] 'Phantom Thief' Sai, was it? Or do I have the wrong person?
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[It comes as almost a natural response, the very very first thought to come to mind. It's the truth, at least. He's been itching to get a good, deep look at many, already. If it wasn't for the mechanics of this damn place. . .
The entertaining train of thought is dropped aside, though, almost too easily. A bit similarly, Sai keeps a relatively relaxed demeanor, not quite defensive (at least not yet), although an uneasy feeling (definitely not anything new) begins to take root, even if very minute.]
No, that's me. But I've never seen you before.
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Being uncertain about anything is so unfamiliar for him that it makes him angry more than anything else. He's never been good at really covering his anger. It's visible in his eyes, at the edges of his false smile, in the carefully forced-relaxed tension.]
I see. [Of course he wouldn't remember. But why is he Sai, instead of Eleven? Nobody here has mentioned being out of time - though the fact that the city itself is so old might mean something ... ] That's a bit strange ... how long have you been here? I hadn't heard much of you in the papers, before I got here.
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[A very simple and straight up answer, as there's nothing to it that needs to be lied about. It's still unreal, though (and frustrating) that it's really been that long.
All Sai do, otherwise, is keep that sight of that anger of his, with how much it's beginning to stand out. It's a natural reaction towards being brought somewhere against your will, and unable to freely leave, but. . . there's something else different within that look, which he still can't exactly put a finger on.]
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And in this place, at this time, with his heart beating human blood, it may not be the best idea to make known those unknowns. Not until he has a stronger foothold, at least.
So he simply continues smiling, carefully redirecting the rage back inside, the tension easing into mere frustration with the situation at hand.]
How strange. It's been longer than that since I last saw your name printed anywhere. [Now his attention drifts to the strange changes that, while not unexpected of someone with Sai's (former) abilities, are ... odd.] This is all part of your change?
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[An honest enough question. He doesn't really remember, nor does he exactly think that what he had pulled when using HAL's electronic drug on Yako, then becoming her copy, to fight Neuro, was something that was actually recorded and brought up in the news.
But really, that's just water under the bridge.
He nods, then.]
Yep. Nothing too special, really, although the magic is fun. ♥
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And they all change into something like this?
Interesting.]
Magic, hm. [As a man based entirely in science - even far-flung magic-seeming science - the idea is almost laughable to him. But, then again, Neuro's existence does prove otherwise. And of course this is not his world.] A subject on which I'm always skeptical ... how did those changes take effect? Did they just sprout from you?
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[His own stance on the idea of magic has never really been here nor there, if he's to think about it. At the same time, though, couldn't all the things he could do with his body be considered as such? He still felt like some kind of monster, either way.
Regardless, he'll show a little proof, then. Holing out a hand, it takes no more than a few moments of concentration before a fireball appears just above his palm, a little larger than a baseball. Then, just for the fun of it, his hand lifts, and with a deep breath, he blows, making it appear as though he's breathing fire.
But yes, moving on; another question, is it? ]
Right. They just began to happen about a month after we all showed up. And it happened a little at a time; just my ears and claws. There's no set pace of how everyone is changing; some are moving much faster. All we know is that everyone is going through it, and into different kinds of things.
[He pauses, then. just knowing there's something he's forgetting. . .]
Ah-! The reason might be with that doctor who everyone is met with, upon arrival. Word is, we were all are poisoned, but not in order to kill us.
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Still, the idea both intrigues and annoys. Sicks leans back a little, his posture forcibly casual.]
How interesting. I wonder what sort of poison we're talking about, here, if it isn't fatal. That's generally the implication with poison. [He looks at the fireball again as it winks out. Control over an element. The child never had that sort of power before.] I can only imagine what sorts of 'things' people are turning into.
[It's not exactly a question, but it does have a hook on the end of it. He glances around at the nervous people on the street, at shadowed figures sneaking by, at obviously changed people making their way brazenly in the light.]
'Monster' covers a fairly wide range, after all.
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[In regards to the poison, at least. It's nothing like how he had pinpointed the substance that Ai had so carefully sewn into the blankets on the plane, upon their first meeting.
He only lets himself think about that for a few moments more, however. The last, real immediate thing he even saw of home, was the body of a very lifeless Ai.]
It's a fair amount! I'm still not sure just how many. Only that there are changes I've both seen and read about, which I, personally, have not experienced. Like a couple have claimed to be turning into something plant-like, roots and all.