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TEST DRIVE MEME

TEST DRIVE MEME: JANUARY

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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one;

[When Clarence wakes up on the beach, he coughs and hacks and chokes far longer than necessary. Pain is still unfamiliar to him, and so the salt water against his open wounds might as well be a knife to his gut. Sand is yet another unpleasant new sensation -- no matter how much he spits, the particles remain stuck on his tongue, in his throat. Having a body is such a hindrance. Everything is so uncomfortable. How do humans survive?

But Clarence isn't a human, at least not now. This is the second time he's woken up on the peninsula, and he's already transformed into one of the hideous beasts that is warned about on the pamphlet. His grey, fly-like wings buzz and twitch. His second mouth, the one inside his stomach, pulses under his soaking wet shirt in a permenant gaping gasp. His antennae flick. His pitch black eyes shoot open and squeeze closed with every cough.]

Christ!

[His voice is sharp and unpleasant, even if you don't account for the copious amounts of salt water and sand in his sinuses. He looks from left to right, his nostrils flaming.

Someone will pay for this.]

Edited 2017-01-13 20:21 (UTC)

[There had been rumors of a few new people washing ashore. Light had decided it was best to investigate just in case there were some new arrivals, though the timing wasn't quite right. It wouldn't be the first time Ryslig had shaken things up.

Indeed, he is surprised. Not only is there someone on the beach, but he's familiar, not from home but from his time here. Clarence. The name doesn't manage to come to mind, not since Light has lost the ability to retain names, but all the other memories stay intact. Another person who knew his secret.]

You're back. [Seeing no benefit in hiding his surprise, his words betray how shocked he is with the situation. This is the second recent return that Light himself is aware of.]

[You're back.

It's funny, the way time flows when you're neither awake nor asleep. Even though Clarence's most recent memory has him on the streets of Bavan, he feels as though time has left him behind, like the brief darkness that fills his vision between each blink had lasted far longer than it should.

You're back. Has he been gone? Was he sleeping?

His first instinct is to snarl -- not at Light, but at the confusion that is rapidly overtaking his neurons like a surge of ice water. He pulls himself up from the ground with an almost mechanical deliberateness. He moves one joint. Then the next. Then the next.]

I never left, smart monkey.

[There's a venom in the familiar nickname, but it's a nice, familiar venom, at least for Clarence. It's reassuring, somehow, to see someone he recognizes, even if his relationship with Light has been an uneasy one. He doesn't know any other kind.]

That's the thing about ol' Clarence. He's always around, even when people think he's all but disappeared.

[He forms a fist, then releases it -- a mime of a dandelion releasing its spores. He smiles as he does it, pleased with himself for the clever imagery.]

Poof.

[Despite how long it's been since he's seen Clarence, everything is exactly as he remembers, and the man makes enough of an impression for him to be remembered in minute detail. Even the nickname, obviously meant as a derogatory remark, is as ignored as it had been the last they had met. It's not a nickname he's fond of, but it's not one that bothers him enough to be argued.]

As poetic as that would sound, I don't believe that's true. [Clarence knows Light's secret, it isn't as if he hasn't kept an eye out for him. Now, with him reappearing when the rumors whispered of new arrivals was more than enough evidence for Light.] You haven't been around.

So, welcome back. How do you feel?

[Clarence's expression immediately slips into a frown, harsh and heavy like an upside down U. He doesn't like arguing about his immortality (or lackthereof) with Light. He always feels a little more deflated when it's over. A little more hopeless.

So he decides to ignore the 'welcome back' and all that business about poetry, instead focusing on the only slightly more paltable topic of his feelings.]

I feel like crap, smart monkey. Like a drowned rat. Or a drowned insect. Heh.

[He scrutinizes the cuts and bruises on his arms. An involuntary shiver catches him off guard. The water was so cold. His limbs are so sore.

He looks up at Light, accusing.]

This is an interesting situation I've found myself in, isn't it?

For the sake of whatever truce we'd managed, I'll offer my coat.

[Even if the weather doesn't encourage being without the additional layer, Light is at least dry, something he has over Clarence. One of the things.

Before he'd left, Clarence had been witness to memories Light needed to keep secret. If it meant befriending the enemy or forging an uneasy agreement, Light is willing to pay the price.]

It does look like you've had a rough experience. [Slowly, Light moves closer as he shrugs off the offered jacket.] Do you remember anything since your disappearance?

[The coat appeases him -- or at least seems to. Clarence's attention span is woefully short, like a dog or a small child, and he's just so damn cold. He starts reaching for it before Light even takes it off, overeager as ever. When he does receive it, he quickly shrugs it on over his wings. It's a good thing that Light is also a faerie.

At Light's question, he frowns to himself. It's a smaller, more subtle frown. His eyes drift aimlessly as he tries to sort through memories that don't exist. His mind feels like a broken CD, skipping and stuttering every time he tries to play it. What was he doing? Where was he?]

As a matter of fact, I--

[Something cold and tight circles around his heart. Panic, he recognizes. It's panic. In a swift, sudden jerk, he smacks his own cheek, as though jostling his brain around might quell the storm.

(This is why he doesn't like answering Light's questions.)]

I can't remember! [He practically howls the words.] Why can't I remember anything?!

[ New people coming from the waters? So the rumors go~

He wonders how funny it would be to rest his heel against the back of their heads. That may give them the boost they need to keep on living, to fight. Because here in this world, they will have to fight in order to live. Fight their hunger, their exhaustion, their weaknesses, everything.

But he pauses as he hears just one word. One word. His deer ears flick involuntarily for once before he runs forward -- running on hands and hoof like some beast. Yes, he speaks of weakness and feels it welling up in his chest. Ah, what a glorious and delicious pain that this is. ]

Clarence! [ Clarence may wish to attempt to move slightly out of the way before he is barreled over by the Wendigo. ]

[And he does move -- or, at least, he tries to. With his limbs all tensed and tangled from the arrival, he only manages to flop over from his back to his stomach before Mitsuhide collides with him. ]

Arrrrrgh!

[He pronounces every single syllable in that word. AAAAAAAH-ERRRRRR-GUHHHHH. He tries to scramble away, flailing his limbs and batting at the other man with clumsy arms, both insectoid and human. It's an entirely primal response, driven both by the disorienting shock of waking up half-drowned on the beach and, well, the sudden impact of deer monster running into him.]

Ya big oaf! What the hell's the matter with you?!

[ His arms wrap around what he can hold. He doesn't even mind how he is being beaten by those many arms -- Clarence has so many, doesn't he? His tail wags furiously. A completely voluntary response but he wishes to show in every action just how happy that he is to be able to collide with him.

Mitsuhide does not even mind how the cold water washes over him, how it makes his body shudder just a little in response. In fact, if he was of a different mind, he probably would enjoy the discomfort. But that is neither here nor there. ]

I do not know. When I saw you, there was a painful feeling in my chest that said that I have to hold onto you like this. Normally when one would have these feelings, it would come with wanting to tear the individual limb from limb. [ Another furious wagging of his tail. However, now it is waterlogged and ends up just splattering droplets everywhere. ]

It's all right. That thought only came to me for a few seconds. Minute. It's passed! Presumably!

Presumably?

[He croaks out the word, all of his limbs still scrambling and flailing.]

You sure know how to make a guy feel safe!

[Clarence is relatively certain that Mitsuhide won't hurt him (presumably), but that knowledge does nothing to dim his struggles. As a formerly intangible creature, Clarence's bubble of personal space is larger and less flexible than most. It grosses him out, thinking about his skin touching someone else's skin. Hell, it grosses him out to have skin.]

NOW GET OFF!

[He heaves his wings, then uses that momentum to throw his head into Mitsuhide's face with all of his might. Scarecrow can handle a few bruises. He'll probably even like them.]

Don't--

[ --I? Doesn't quite come out especially when he is continuously being beaten on by all those limps and suddenly the wings help to propel Clarence forward to have their heads violently collide! That's enough for him to let go so that he can hold his nose which suddenly starts pouring out black, rotting blood.

He closes his eyes as his tail continues to wag furiously, splashing the water all around. ] That hurt, that really hurt. That hurt. That hurt. [ It follows loud giggles as he takes in a big sniff to pull some of the blood back into his nose -- before it comes slipping out once more. ]

Hello, Clarence.

[Clarence's reaction to the black blood is not unlike a person who squishes a spider only for that spider to explode into thousands of new spiders. Fresh blood smells savory and delicious, like a medium rare steak, but this abomination smells like an animal that slowly died in a gutter, rotted, came back to life, soiled itself and then started the rotting and dying process all over again.

He recoils with his teeth clenched and his nostrils flared.]

Scarecrow.

[He covers his nose with his hand, looking the undead monstrosity up and down. It's strange, the way his own absence hums in his mind despite having no memories of leaving. He missed Mitsuhide. He doesn't remember going anywhere, and yet he missed him.]

You're looking crazed. As always.

I humbly apologize for the blood.

[ His tone remains unbothered as his tail continues to flop side-to-side in the water. He lifts his hand to lightly touch his nose again, before allowing it to free drip. Of course, dripping is a nice way of putting it, isn't it? More like sludge creeping and occasionally spurting down. ]

I am touched that you say so! [ A small, bashful tilt of his head, because of course, he would take that as a compliment. ] You are looking alive and well -- ah. [ His tail stops wagging. ] I ate a lot of the food out of your fridge and messed up some of the hands on the bed. [ He drops his chin as he looks up. ] The latter was not intentional.

[Clarence watches Mitsuhide, his nose crinkling. He doesn't like this, waking up and not knowing how long he's been asleep. It feels like stepping into a movie theater part way through with everyone else laughing at the jokes he didn't hear.

(He imagines that it feels like that, anyway. He only has Philip's memories to go off of, and the longer the two of them remain separated, the more vague those memories become.)]

Funny. I don't remember giving you permission to enter my home. You know, I--

[The smell hits him again, a wave of disgust blinding his senses. He grips his nose tighter.]

Holy helll! At first I was a little jealous you weren't alive, but now I'm seriously starting to reconsider.

Edited 2017-01-24 16:12 (UTC)

No. I broke down the door. [ Spoken matter-of-factly. He lifts and lowers his shoulders. ] I thought it would be funny. [ This time, his words are not an excuse or a means to apologize. It is mostly just having Clarence understand the joke. ]

I thought you would yell at me more. [ A series of giggles follow and now that matter is explained to the best of his ability, he comments on his undead state. ] But look, dismemberment means so little.

[ So he says as he grabs onto his wrist to start to twist and attempt to rip his hand off. ] Clarence is worried about me so I should have you not worry, right? [ So he says as he digs his claws into his own wrist to get a better hold of it. ]

[Clarence immediately slaps at Mistuhide's hand, batting him away from the wrist like a parent trying to keep a kid from touching a hot stove. As much as Clarence adores pain and suffering, he still finds himself squeamish when confronted with certain grotesque scenes. A face smashed in beyond recognition, for example. An arm angled in the wrong direction. It's the animal part of his brain, that mortal revulsion that keeps prey away from places that smell like death, and predators away from rotting meat.]

You gotta pretty sick sense of humor, pal.

[Beat, an aside:]

Not that you don't know that.

Not that I don't know it.

[ His tail flops back and forth in the water, splashing it all around. He laughs a little as he did let go of his wrist due to having his hand slapped. ]

You're probably hungry, right? Let's go kill something together, Clarence! [ Reaching out, he attempts to grab onto the other's shoulders -- giving them a light shake. Every bit like a child that's begging his parent to take him out for ice cream. ] Won't that be fun? I don't think we've ever gone hunting before.

[Jason hates the beach. Ever since he drowned in the lake, or perhaps ever since he started taking on feline attributes, he's disliked large bodies of water. They stink to him, either of salt or grime, and he feels as if he's trying to breathe around a wet cloth stuffed into his airways whenever he's near them.

But there are new people here, and so he goes looking to see if his bitch sister or his bitch niece have decided to make an appearance. In the year that's followed his arrival here, one might have thought Jason's grudge against them would fade, that he'd start to forget if not forgive the stolen savings and stunted life's track, but he's taken a certain perverse pride in stoking the old embers. By the time he gets to the shore, where the water licks his feet, he's concocted a whole fantasy of holding his niece down by the back of her neck and drowning her like an unwanted puppy.

He's getting increasingly fed up with not finding her when he nearly trips on the most unfortunate-looking son of a bitch he's seen yet in Ryslig - a soaking wet, insectoid creature choking on saltwater and calling him "Christ". Jason pushes Clarence away with his foot.]

Not hardly.

[If Clarence didn't feel like a half-dead fly, twitching and buzzing on a window sill, he would've turned around right then and there and sunk his teeth into that pretty little Manticore's legs. Instead, he gives an intense, plegmy cough that he intentionally makes as loud as possible, leaning in to every hack choke hack. A non-verbal punishment.]

Whaddya look at this?

[He sneers and rolls over onto his stomach, beginning the long process of standing up, limb by limb.]

A wittle kitty cat that can't keep his paws to himself. You do know that saying about curiosity, doncha?

[Jason takes the exposure of the back as an invitation, having always been a person inclined to take advantage of others the instant they provided the opportunity to do so. He calls it opportunism, but in truth it's sadism, vindictiveness. He moves to press his foot down on Clarence's lower back. To thrust him down into the dirt, the place where all people Jason deems unworthy belong, a judgment he makes in a heartbeat upon seeing them and one from which no one has ever found pardon.]

That it's the mother of invention, I reckon.

[Vegeta warily watches the alien in the distance. He's been around enough species to know that a couple antennae are nothing to be afraid of. It doesn't look too strong, bug-like beings usually aren't. Perhaps it knows what's going on here.

He gets as close as he thinks is safe, keeping to the solid wet sand where he can move quickly if necessary. Who knows how strong its hearing is, but he treads quietly just to be safe. His reflexes seem as dulled as his foggy senses, as if the air itself was slowing him down. Getting as close as is reasonable, tense in case he needs to run, he tries to talk to it.]

Bug-thing. Do you know where we are?

[Here's hoping it understands him.]

[Clarence wrinkles his nose at the nickname. Bug man. Although he'd prefer being a hideous bug monster over a human any day (he'd be considerably more peeved if Vegeta simply called him man), he gave himself a name for a reason.]

The name's Clarence.

[The derision in his voice is plain as day, even as he writhes and coughs on the ground. He forces himself up onto his hands and knees, eyeing the other man as though this stranger was somehow responsible for his plight.]

Who the hell are you?

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TEST DRIVE MEME

clarence | penumbra: black plague

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guess im not alone out here

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