graveyardsmash | Test drive meme: November

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Test drive meme: November

TEST DRIVE MEME: NOVEMBER

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 is making all the cuts and scrapes on your skin 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 of the natives are trying to get on your good side with 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 on the more informative end of the scale. 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 readers saying they're lies, or pointing out good "jokes."

Then there are 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? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

a;
( It's like he's on autopilot. It's hard to feel a lot of pain when you're already dead, so that wasn't the big problem with being washed up on the godforsaken beach that he did. It's that he's away from them...they are away from him. His gun is gone and this just won't do.

Military training helps Wight manoeuvre his way to town, as adeptly as possible -- this may or may not be that fabled Haven of yore, as it isn't freezing cold. However, upon inspection of a few natives he happens to spy on, there's something different about this land. Scattered throughout the typical human folk are monstrous creatures, acting as if they were any other person. Not just undead, either. Creatures of varying sizes, types, textures.

As time passes, Wight doesn't feel as if he needs to hide as much. In fact, as soon as he lets his guard down there are people willing to give him food, gifts...mostly food, though. There's a certain irony to not needing to eat while also being given a plateful of food. )

Here...I'm not really hungry. ( There's a person nearby -- perhaps it's you -- that he's offering the food to. He also has a distinct feeling that even if he wasn't dead, he still wouldn't have the stomach for food right now. )

b;
( For something a bit more lighthearted, Wight is certainly confused by what is going on here at first. There are pamphlets available, and all of them seem more...comedic than anything. What exactly is a Bunnyipyip or a Fur-Bearing Trout? There's even one that says "Alternatives to Human Flesh." If he wasn't already so pale, his face would have gone stark white.

The fact that this seems to be a joking matter is aggravating, to say the least. )

Excuse me...can you ex-explain this to me? I don't think I understand what's so funny about all this...

c;
( One of those happy natives grabs Wight and talks his ear off. It's hard to get out of it and not cause suspicion -- he certainly sees that some others have weaponry and evil glares that he'd like to return. What he's gained from this very one-sided interaction, however, is that he will be transforming even more in the coming month, and straying even further from being human at that. Those pamphlets? Not a joke.

When Wight approaches you, it's with a very dazed demeanour and slumped posture. There's no one to lean on here. Is what he did in the past so bad that this is what he truly deserves? )

I think we're in hell.

[Fran, the ever curious kelpie that he is, can be found on the outskirts of towns whenever people start washing up on the sands, waiting for them to leave the town or be chased from it and snagging a few newbies away to chat to. It's a scene he's sortof gotten used to over the months he's been here. Whoever this fog god is... they really like to keep a schedule.

Perhaps it's for that reason the human turnout is a little larger, and the pamphlets a bit bulkier every time. This time, it seems, one of the newbies found him. His lips curl into a grin, nodding and turning to face the strange- Oh. My, what an outfit. How curious~]

If we are, it's not doing a very good job of punishing us~

( The words he'd spoken didn't even really register to Wight until they're responded to -- and the person responding is certainly a sight to behold. It's a bit startling...maybe that makes him a hypocrite.

But it's also that visage that makes what the stranger says all the more infuriating. )

So being taken from your home -- your family -- and turned into a creature isn't punishment enough for you?

[Hmm, it certainly seems he'd struck a nerve. His hands raise for a moment, gesturing he means no harm before one rubs at his cheek apologetically.]

My home is the land I walk on, and my family the people I meet... I guess you could say I had very few attachments before I came here.

[That's an understatement, the only thing he lost on arrival was his magical connection, which hurt in an entirely different way.]

The monster thing is... less ideal, but you can still enjoy yourself, have fun, relax, and float along with a slightly different life. I can't imagine this 'hell' you humans dream of would be so kind.

( A nomad...there are plenty of people like that back home. He's sort of one himself, floating from area to area in an attempt to run. Family, though -- that's so much more than the casual acquaintanceships you make on the road.

What's even more unfathomable is being so blasé about being turned into a creature. It's an ordeal that he's not willing to go through twice. The first time he can blame on himself. This...it's not his fault, it's just an inevitability. )

There's nothing fun about becoming s-subhuman. ( Wight's muffled and static-like voice cracks. This shouldn't be a matter of opinion. It's just a fact. ) Your entire life is upended. The only difference about this place is you're all in on the nightmare together.

[Ohoho, well there's the trick, isn't it mister stranger. His grin split a little wider, cocking a brow as if the other had said something amusing.]

I was never human, to begin with, so what's the real change then? [To Fran, it IS a matter of opinion. That human-only mentality is exactly what he wants to avoid.

His expression softens, that little information drop out of the way] I'm sorry, really, it can't be easy. But you're here now, might as well make the most of it. Do you have time to talk?

[Well, what else is there to do, really?]

( Never being human...Wight thinks for a moment and decides that would be preferable. To never know what it's like to be human -- in his case to be warm again, even -- would make everything so much easier. To not want to be human because you don't know what it's like.

Wight feels his shoulders deflate a little. ) I don't know how to make the most of it.

I -- ( If he could hard-swallow, he would. This is a lot to say, but this stranger was just very open and honest. Does this world matter? Does a world full of monsters really care about his secret? ) I've already gone through this once. I-I don't want to become even more of a monster than I already am.

[Normally, coming to this land turns everyone into the most human-like of their forms. What a cruel fate to have brought him here and not given him warmth once more. Though, perhaps even that is preferable to giving it and taking it away again...

His features shift to one of sympathy, stepping just a little closer as if to offer some comfort. He's making a few motions for them to walk away from the city, heading somewhere the Kelpie is a little more comfortable at least. Somewhere natural.]

That I can help you with... but only if you let me.
What was the place you came from like? How did they treat someone like you?

[His tone is soft, smooth and gentle in that ancient rolling accent, and importantly, filled with sympathy. Help him understand, pale stranger. From one pale-boy to another~]

Edited 2018-11-18 02:11 (UTC)

( There's a bit of trepidation in his body language, but Wight obliges and moves. It's almost unconsciously. There's half of his brain that is screaming at him to keep his mouth shut.

The other half is telling him that he's never met someone else not human anymore. When else would he have an opportunity to talk like this? )

There's no...no helping. ( As far as he knows. His fate has been sealed, and now even more so. ) Where I come from I'm someone...people want to kill me. I'm dangerous to them.

( That knowledge hurts, but he can think of things much more painful. ) But when you're a monster, can, can you blame anyone?

[Good gosh he wants to give this boy a hug something fierce. But that can wait, he's feeling lost right now, and Fran wants to help with that first.

That... well, that's something he can relate to. He'll guide them away, towards the fields and the trees. Oh Wight, hasn't anyone taught you not to follow strangers? Lucky this one isn't hungry.]

Humans dislike anything different to them. Whether dangerous or not. But you're no longer bound by that shackle, are you? There are lots of us, these so called monsters, here. Many of them are kind... [He needs something convincing, and he knows just the thing.]

Where I come from... well, we were hunted at all times. Lived in constant worry of capture or worse. But, do you want to know something nice? [It's hard to hide his frustration, even now, explaining the situation.
One hand reaches out, neatly taking hold of the strangers', if he lets him.]

I don't have to run, here...

( This conversation does nudge out that idea that's been in the back of his mind. "There are lots of us, these so called monsters, here. Many of them are kind..."

But what about those who aren't kind? He has experience with his monsters -- the monster he is -- but what other monsters are there here, truly? What capabilities do they have, and how much trouble will they offer? )

I don't have to run. ( Half repeating, half agreeing. If only that were the only thing on his mind. The main thought: but I would rather run and be with my family than be safe and without them. Except he now circles around another idea, suddenly even more guilty about his selfishness. His sister, Cotton...they may still be wanted fugitives, but he's the main problem. What if his absence means they don't have to run either? )

Maybe...maybe I should be here. ( Wight looks down at the hand that is holding his. What a weirdly nostalgic gesture. If there is a world filled with monsters, isn't that what he deserves the most? To be with his own kind, as much as he wishes he wasn't one? ) Maybe that's what is best after all.

[There's only two ways to figure that out, after all. Ask, or stay around long enough to learn yourself.

His head bobs, following along with the repetition and keeping up that soft smile. He's here, for now, and he will be for a while, at least until Wight shoos him away.]

Hey-now.((You're an all star.)) I've heard that tone far too many times. It's important not to blame yourself for things you have no control over.

[Silly humans, always throwing more weight onto their own shoulders. Fran's frequent exposure to Charles has honed his senses when it comes to self-defeating talk. He guides them to a shady patch of grass, tucked away into a small clearing by the trees. Safe from the winter winds, but still gaining the warmth of the sun.] Come, sit down with me, and talk, I'm happy to listen~

( There's warm sunlight, but it's impossible to feel against his clothes and skin. That's also where this person -- who may be a monster, but who is seemingly a kind monster -- is undoubtedly wrong. )

I didn't have control over the beach...o-over being here. Before...I did. That was my fault.

( There's a harsh nag that enters his head. He's recreated Jenn's voice on instinct, whispering into his ear with intensity. We can't trust strangers. Don't tell them unnecessary information. He has been talking a lot, even though this stranger is egging him on. )

Who are you? Wh-What kind of...what are you?

[Ah, another troubled soul. The kelpies lips soften into a light frown, his head tilting even as he sat to consider the words. Hmm, he's met tortured souls before.

But- Before he can think of an adequate response, questions are leveled in his direction. Softly glowing amber eyes blink up at the boy, one corner of his lips curling up. Always with the difficult questions.]

My name is Fran, or at least that's part of it. Though I should ask the same of you.

Otherwise... I was what you might have once called a nymph! If your world had such a thing. Though I admit, I look a bit different now. [There's a pause, his spare hand reaches up to tuck a stray strand of thick, almost seaweed-like snowy hair out of the way.] Now I suppose I'm also a kelpie, some sort of horse-like creature that lurks around the lakes. An odd combination, isn't it?

( Yes, it is quite the combination. Wight has certainly heard of fairy tale creatures, but that's all they've always remained. This being is so much different than him in appearance...that makes him not what to think of what will happen to him when he's undead-slash-something else. Even more unsightly.

No more thinking about that right now. )

I'm...Wight. ( He considers offering his real name for a split second. Except that person and who he is now...it's as if he really does have two separate identities. ) Sorry. I didn't mean to talk so much.

( Despite his instinctual clamming up in the form of his imagined sister, reflecting back...it did make him feel even a little lighter to say something. It's also difficult when you hate the sound of what your own voice has become, but that's about par for the course. ) It's nice to talk, though. I haven't had a-anyone to talk with in a long time except my ( Another beat. He'll never be fully used to being able to spill secrets. ) travel companions.

[Beautiful, is what he'll be! Every monster has become beautiful in some way, at least to this dorky kelpie here. They're living proof that it's not the appearance that matters.]

Nice to meet you, Wight~ [He'd shake the boy's hand if he wasn't still holding onto it...] Please, don't mind. I rather like to listen... And sometimes it's good to get things off your chest.

[Those sharp, slitted pupils narrow for a moment, catching the brief cover up. It's fine, he knows how secretive people can be, and he won't press for information he doesn't want to share.]

Could you tell me more, by any chance? I always love hearing stories of these strange lands arrivals have come from, often so different from mine~

( To Wight, the idea of being beautiful is utterly laughable. Maybe he's alright at first glance -- if you're into the malnourished type, anyway. Dig any deeper and it's a nightmare. )

I don't know what you might want to know... ( There's a lot. So much so that sometimes it feels like he's suffocating. Is it okay to talk openly here? No, he can't be sure yet. He can't be so trusting so quickly. ) Where I come from it's very...cold. There are the undead...they've been there as long as I've been alive...

( Wight's vision flits back down to the hand still holding his. It feels very reassuring, very good. Outside of his sister, he can't remember the last time someone touched him for so long...feels kinda weird, man. ) Is there a reason you're still...?

[Beauty isn't just in appearances, young padawight.]

Anything, really, what the people are like, what you learned, ate, did for fun~

[He humms out, considering the few undead he knew. They'd probably do fine in a cold area, it's true. Then he glances to their hands.] Ah- Honestly, you looked so sad I wanted to give you a hug... But this seemed more appropriate at the time.

We can stop, if you'd like, otherwise I enjoy the contact. It's very... grounding. [There's that soft smile once again, gosh, is there anything he isn't positive about? (yes)]

( The positivity is rather welcoming, even if the person it's coming from is a short double-monster. The people who he travels with are a bit of yin and yang -- one very settled in realism, the other a tried and true optimist. The former usually wins out over the latter, and the energy is usually serious. It's not a laughing matter that he's stuck in, after all. )

A hug...? ( That actually shocks him. Why would anyone want to...? The thought is very jarring, even. The only person to hug him for almost two years has been his sister. There is an itch in his brain that is very starved for that physical contact, but simultaneously...it may be best to keep up that streak. ) I...you can do what you want, I guess.

( There, it's not his responsibility. If he hugs him, fine. If he doesn't, also fine. It's somehow easier to think about a new topic of conversation. ) When I was younger, my sister would share her fish with me. It was her favorite, so it meant a lot...that's the first thing I could think of, sorry.

( Also the easiest memory of taste to recall. He hasn't outright told this person -- Fran -- that he's a malfunctioning undead person, but it feels like letting too much out if he says he hasn't eaten in years. ) There are a lot of different people. I haven't interacted with a lot in a long time. And fun...

( Recalling his previous recreational pastimes is just a little too much, still. )

[Pffft, way to shove the decisions onto the nymph~ He just smiles and nods, he may just take the stranger up on that sometime. Later, of course.] If you say so~

Oh? That's a very specific choice, but I like it! I'm not much of a meat eater, myself... but whatever works.[He doesn't really get the whole family bond thing, but that's fine, that's a conversation that can come up later. Unfortunately, most of Wight's surprises are a bit more... uh, common-place for the monsters of Ryslig. Except for the eating part, perhaps. Everyone 'eats', here, even the undead.] Mmh, I see. Being a traveller isn't all that easy, when it comes to socializing, is it?

[Ah, he's hit another sensitive point, it seems. His smile settles onto something more comforting, it seems he's taking him up on that offer sooner rather than later, releasing the hand and wrapping it around the frail boy's waist, tugging him over to either lean against Fran, or rest his head on his shoulder if he wanted. This is what he thinks is comforting, at least.]

You don't have to answer if you don't want to... Here, I'm sure you have lots of questions, still. Are there any I can answer, for you?

( The fact that he isn't hugged is both a load off and also disappointing. Everything is already a lot right now. Extreme physical contact may overload him.

There's also this conversation that's so...normal. All he's talked about for the last couple of years is traveling, military stuff, a few mundane things that come up between those that are familiar. Now he knows that Fran doesn't really eat meat and that's surprisingly interest--

Oh. Nevermind. He may not classify this as a hug, but it's definitely very physical. There's a lot of leaning going on, even if it may be a little awkward considering the nine inch height difference. )

I--!! ( Wight's voice cracks and sputters enough since he...has no real mouth anymore, but the surprise makes it even more obvious through his muffling mask. ) How long, long have you been here? Since you're s-so used to everything?

[Consider them lucky it wasn't BEFORE Fran's changes. He's grown a whole 6 inches since arriving as he shifted into a kelpie! That'd probably tip things over the edge.

As it was, he had just sortof used the leaning angle to guide the tall boy over to his sides and shoulder, supporting his weight rather easily (thanks monster strength).]

I've been here since... Hmm, for the last 8 months? Strangely, it doesn't feel that long, now that it's passed. Every month, someone like you - [well, not undead, but an arrival] - comes along; a few, even, and this process starts all over again. I suppose you could say we're here to welcome you, as folks stuck in the same situation.

( That's okay...he weighs next to nothing anymore, anyway. )

Eight months...I can't imagine being here for that long. ( It's probably easier when you're a noncommittal, nymph-creature. Wight doesn't have nearly as many the attachments that he used to, but the one major one -- his sister -- makes his mind ache the way his body can't anymore.

Eventually he breaks the lean, standing straight again. He may not be able to feel anything anymore, but his brain still acknowledges that it was certainly a nice gesture that makes him feel more calm than he was before. How long that feeling of calm will last...who knows. ) Um, thank you. For being as nice as you've been...e-especially when you didn't have to be.

( Wight is a patient person. He's grown accustomed to hardships and internalizing the burdens of them. There's a lot that he can't be that open about, even knowing the freedom this kind of world can potentially bring. ) I think I can make it here...but I don't -- it will be hard.

[His head gives a little nod, that soft smile remaining on his lips. It is a little easier, admittedly. Not that he didn't lose anything, but... it was more a part of himself, than anything else.

His hand releases, drifting back to his side and staying open, in case the boy wanted to take his hand once more.]

You're welcome to it, any time~ We've all been there, your first day here. It gets easier at first, but it is hard, for sure.

[There's a soft hum, a memory striking his head.]

Try to find Hestia's Place, in Bavan, if you don't mind cities. She runs a hostel that's free for young arrivals, and you can get your bearings without worrying about not having shelter over your head.

( Hestia's Place, huh? That literally sounds like a place taken right from his own home world. Maybe there's something meaningful to that. )

Alright. Thank you...I haven't lived in one place for a long time, but, but I don't mind cities for a short stay. ( It may end up a long stay...if there's no need to run here, is there a point to keeping up the now non-existent chase? ) But...I'm sure that only lasts for so long.

I guess it'd be smart to ask: how do you find work here? Is there money? Do you...barter? Or bounty? ( It's not like he's in the market for food, or even clothes, but those aren't the only important necessities in society. Mostly he just wonders if his particular skill set will be of use here, especially since he washed up on shore sans rifle. )

wight | no end

C!

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