graveyardsmash | TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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test drive

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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 in a dark ditch, the sky cloudy overhead. Dirt cakes into your cuts and scrapes. The air is clammy and damp, and it smells like rain.

You’re in a grave. And when you sit up to inspect the tombstone marking your spot, it has your name on it. Maybe the graves next to you have the names of familiar friends, family, acquaintances. Not all of them are open like yours are. RIP.

There’s a light dancing in the distance, and you hear the jingle-jangle of heavy keys, or worse still, the gravekeeper’s massive pitchfork or shovel. If you're lucky, you can sneak out beyond his notice, and get out alone. If not - you might find yourself on the wrong end of a shovel’s swing, or worse yet, tripping headfirst in front of a pair of monstrous eyes.

SCENARIO TWO

You've stumbled your way out of the graveyard, and you're promptly besieged by the overwhelming sights and sounds of the city. Cars honk at you to get out of the street, and strangers try not to look in your direction for too long. They see your dirty clothes and scraped faces, and pretend to busy themselves with something else. Rarely, a look of pity is cast your way.

But some people try to reach out. Enterprising citizens and those that hope to curry favor with the newcomers pass out new clothes and bundles of food, asking if you have a place to stay the night, wondering about the details of the world you came from. Some are even handing out pamphlets which vary in how helpful they are--"What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)", "Wolpertinger: Fact or Fiction?", "100% ACCURATE MONSTER QUIZ ASSESSMENT: GUARANTEED TO PREDICT YOUR MONSTER!", and "Ryslig Law In A Nutshell".

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? Does it fit you, or does it feel incongruous with your nature? 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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Perhaps! Perhaps not! I can only find out!

[And she seems absolutely giddy at the prospect - it's like the fact that she does not know is an entirely new and exciting experience. Timekeeper shuffles the pile in her arms around, sorting it into just a bit more manageable of a stack.]

After all, the topics are quite fascinating, don't you think? Everyone here seems convinced we are to become monsters. And... I do not know if we will or not! Although, many other cookies might say that I already have. Oho! They certainly don't know much.

In...some sense, I suppose...

[Like yes, the concept itself is intriguing, but the prospect of becoming one himself doesn't exactly sit well with him. It's bringing him to the likes of those of the Dravanians, those of Ishgard who posess the ability to transform into beasts at will. Though...from what he's reading so far, it seems less of a choice and more of an inevitability. One that you don't come back from.]

Perhaps I would be less inclined to believe it myself if it weren't for the multitudes of creatures already-

[...wait. The rest of what Timekeeper just said catches up with Alphinaud in short order, and his carefully measured expression actually breaks into genuine surprise for a moment.]

I...do beg your pardon, did you say cookie?

Yes, of course! I am Timekeeper Cookie.

[Alphinaud, if you expected more of an explanation than that, well... sorry.]

Oh, by the way, you haven't seen a pair of golden embroidery scissors around, have you? They're probably quite small compared to me, now. Or... a floating space-time singularity surrounded by spinning cogs?

[So the whole...monster thing has been a lot to process, but Alphinaud has handled it well enough so far, he likes to think.

This? This is a bit much, even for him. A cookie of all things, she says...

Yet she scarcely gives him time to take that in before she's asking him more questions, and for a moment he's just left staring at her dumbfounded until he realizes he should atleast attempt an actual answer.]

M-my apologies, I...I can't say I've seen either of those devices. I imagine I would have remembered them, surely.

[There might be a reason he's not touching on the cookie thing. He doesn't know where to start with that, for one, but for two...he really doesn't want to insult this poor person accidentally because...

A cookie? He just doesn't believe it.]

But rest assured, I'll make sure to let you know if I do see them. It seems that I did arrive with a few things on my person of my own, but...regrettably I can't cast any sort of spells with it, so my Grimoire may as well just be a decorative piece at the moment.

[Unfortunate, but not unexpected. It seems that the Sonic Embroider and Continuum Cog really didn't follow her here. She does hope Cog isn't getting into any trouble... ah, it will probably just follow Croissant Cookie around in her absence, though. Hardly worth worrying about... but then again, for once in this stage of her existence, Timekeeper... doesn't actually know. Can't peer across the timelines and know for sure what's happening when. Hmm.]

You are a spellcaster, then! Magic is not unknown to me. A shame that it doesn't work - I would have liked to see another world's magic. Perhaps you can tell me of your world, instead? After all, not even I knew such other timelines existed until now!

[Alphinaud inclines his head then in something of a nod, bringing his hand to his chin in thought.]

Yes. A Summoner, to be more specific. There is much to say about Eorzea if intrigue is what you are after, though I hardly even know where to begin...

[Whether one chooses to speak of all the great things the world has to offer, or...the constant war the land seems to be embittered in. He shakes his head a little, lowering his hands back down to his sides.]

Though...you do speak as if you have had some sort of awareness, do you not?

[Not even I...]

Oh, he'd recognise that voice anywhere. He'd been making his way around that area in an effort to avoid these creatures, and had just about gotten back to a safer part of the street when he hears, well, that.

He whirls and, sure enough, there's his sister, one shoe in her hand, looking ready to take down a crowd of those insect-men. The sight brings back memories of Pepa easily taking la chancla to anyone who'd dare insult her family. She probably could take down these creatures, only they have a tendency to swarm and really, the only thing to do is escape.

So he runs forward, grasping her arm as she lifts it to throw. "Woah, woah, woah, woah, Pepa, hermana, this is not a fight you can win--it's not a fight any one person can win, or even two people, we gotta run...."

Oh! So you noticed.

[This kid is sharp, Timekeeper likes that. Her grin widens ever so slightly as she clasps her hands together, not seeming to notice now as a few of her pamphlets flutter away into the street.]

Hmm. Indeed, I could see, visit, influence all timelines. Though now, I see that perhaps that was limited only to the timelines of my own worlds! I must see what others are like, if my powers return. Or if this place yields the proper parts to build a new time travel device. My goodness, it's been a while since I've done that, hasn't it!

[Indeed he did notice. There's not much that slips Alphinaud's notice, at least in most cases...he likes to think he's gotten better at keeping his wits about him, at the very least. But Timekeeper here doesn't seem dangerous, at least not on the surface. Just...eccentric, perhaps.

But then she goes into further explanation, about how she has the ability to see, visit, influence timelines, and now he begins to hold himself a bit more carefully. Very few can harness power such as that, and she doesn't immediately strike him as some sort of all powerful omniscient god or anything...

Then again, that isn't to say that things like this don't simply work differently on other planes. That's something he has to remember to consider as well.]

By the Twelve...you've actually constructed a device that allows you to pass through the fabric of time itself?

[And she just says it like she's talking about her daily coffee in the morning.]

I can't imagine the amount of aether...no, it's inconceviable. Your world simply must operate on different rules to Eorzea.

Even when she pulls back, her hands don't stray from Mirabel - picking dirt from her curls, from her clothes, moving, moving, moving. Like a whirlwind, Pepa is, just as she's always been. Even in this bizarre, dark place, it doesn't change.

Her face falls a little at the answer. Her newfound habit of not bottling things up so much has been great for her, but terrible for her poker face.

"Oh, Mirabel - it's okay. It's okay, we're going to be okay." A bit of jabbering, assuring herself as much as her niece. "We have each other, and we are still Madrigals, together."

Her smile twitches.

"Powers, or no powers."

Pepa is so deep in the moment that when her arm is grabbed, she balls up her other fist, ready to whirl on whatever grabbed it - only to find, much to her surprise, it's a familiar mop of dark curls and stream of stammered words instead of a cursing insect person.

"Bruno!? How-" But she looks around, and...he's right, she knows he's right. There are so many of them, too many of them, and they're closing in. Expression screwing into frustrated resignation moreso than fear, she drops the shoe back down, stepping into it. Her hand twists to grab her brother's hand.

"Fine - then let's RUN."

And run she does, taking off like a gale, fiery braid trailing behind her.

It’s honestly comforting - Mirabel is kind of freaked out. As brave as she is normally, she just isn’t when sitting in a creepy graveyard.

“That’s right. We’re Madrigals. We can figure this out. Powers or no powers.

… Let’s get out of here, first.”

It’ll probably be better for both of their nerves if they aren’t in a graveyard. Mirabel starts to stand, and she’ll help Pepa to her feet too.

He's pulled along right behind her, charging past the gathering bug-men.

"This way!" Over there is an empty alley leading to a much more well-lit area--most likely safe from the insects if for no other reason than it's a lot more well-populated with people and... erm, well, he'll get to explaining that.

Once they reach safety he takes a moment to catch his breath. A beat. Then he throws his arms around her in a hug.

Well, I imagine so. You were not a cookie, after all!

[That much, she could tell by his earlier reaction - and she'd wager it's also the case for most folks where he's from. Most people she's spoken to here, no matter the world they're from, have been thrown off by the cookie thing, in fact. It's been very entertaining, really. To think, the most basic and boring truth of her world, so worthy of such confusion and astonishment!]

"Aether" is a form of power, then? Or a name given to a natural force? Magic itself, perhaps?

[The time travel stuff isn't important. It's mundane to her, really. Let's talk about things she doesn't know backwards, tilted, and upside down! She can't even remember the last time she needed to ask an actual question ~~that wasn't her trying to lead Croissant Cookie's oblivious lump of head dough to an obvious conclusion~~!]

[Oh don't you worry Timekeeper, we'll get back to that point eventually...as well as a few other points. There's a lot for Alphinaud to wrap his head around here, so it's best to take this one piece at a time, he thinks.

He at least feels less like he's floundering upon being asked about something he knows quite a lot about. He inclines his head slightly, his expression serious.]

It is precisely that and much more. Aether is not just the magic of our world, but the source of life itself. Each indivual man or beast whom draws breath is comprised of Aether. Meaning, if any sort of disruption were to occur...it could have castrophic consequences. And has.

Oho - fascinating! And can you tell if such a thing holds true here, as well? Is this aether a universal constant that your world has merely discovered and named, or are these timelines truly fundamentally alien to each other, I wonder?

[She's pacing as she speaks now, more pamphlets fluttering away to become obnoxious amounts of litter, especially since she's also gesturing with enthusiasm in between tapping a gloved finger to her chin. With how sharply she's turning, a couple of pamphlets even end up stuck in her wildly curly hair.]

I couldn't rightly say. I haven't been here long enough to do the proper research required, but...just from what I have been able to observe so far, I don't doubt that what we know as Aether and what this realm calls "magic" may be two separate concepts.

[But he could also be completely wrong in thinking that. He imagines though that if Aether were as important of a structure here as it is back in Eorzea...he would have come across something signifying it to be so, like an Aetheryte.

Meanwhile, he's just...going to lean over and pick up one of those scattered pamphlets as it gets caught on the toe of his boot, frowning slightly. Timekeeper sure seems to be taking the situation in stride, delighting in the discovery of it all more than allowing the circumstances themselves to be a stressor.]

Edited (I forgot a word) 2022-02-10 04:00 (UTC)

[one] foot in the grave

[Angela shoots upright as the rain starts to pick up, the scent of wet earth and decay rushing into her lungs and spurring a coughing fit. Small cuts and bruises cover her body and mud clings to her clothing. She's in...a ditch? No. A grave. An open grave. The hair on the back of her neck stands up as she catches sight of her name on the headstone behind her. It must be a dream, she thinks. Rationalizes that it's got to be, no matter how vivid, because this is not where she was when she laid her head down to rest back at Watchpoint: Gibraltr.]

Hello? [Her voice is small and uncertain. She clears her throat, tries again as she climbs out of the hole she's been dumped in.] Hello? Is anyone out there? I think there's been...

[Angela looks closer at the tombstones surrounding hers. Jack. Gabriel. Cole. Her mother. Her father. She looks away, squinting through the haze of rain at an approaching light.]

There's been a mistake.

[two] coins for the ferryman
(Note: mentions of being drugged, but nothing further)

[Drugged. She must have been drugged. Drugged and dragged away to this hellscape. That's what Angela reasons as she pushes frantically past the people trying to shove pamphlets into her hands that say ridiculous things like "Where the Werewolves Are" and "Monster Mayhem: A Guide for Not Turning Feral". Monsters. Superstition and nonsense. But she can't deny that this feels real and the fear, the anger, in peoples eyes when they look at her - it makes her feel naked and ashamed, and it makes her worry that there's something to their claims that she'll understand soon enough.

She approaches someone else who is being harassed by pamphlet-wielding locals. Doesn't make eye contact as she speaks.]

Excuse me, I'm sorry to trouble you - have you been here long? Do you...can you tell me where we are?

[four] crows on the window sill (nephilim)
(Note: brief mention of nudity)

[She laughs bitterly as she stares at the feathers in her hands. The pain of sprouting six fully formed wings had been excrutiating, to say nothing of the bull horns and tail, and the fluffy white feathers falling from her new (blood tinged where they suddenly burst through her skin) wings seem to mock her. She could deny it up until now. Angela looks up with two sets of eyes into the mirror above the bathroom sink at the diner she's gone to have breakfast in. No doubt they all heard her screaming. No doubt someone will come for her soon.

A broken sort of sigh escapes her as she observes the changes. A halo, cartoonishly golden and hovering above two bull-like horns. The wings, of course, have shredded her shirt and she holds the scraps of her shirt to her chest in an attempt at modesty. She notes she seems paler, like there's light shining through translucent skin. Oh, and the eyes. Two new ones on her cheekbones.

Angela Ziegler slumps to the floor, bull tail falling limp on the tile and six bulky wings folded as close as she can get them to her body. She is, in this moment, utterly lost.]

Edited (oops the title got fucked up my bad) 2022-02-21 00:07 (UTC)

[There's something deliciously humorous about coming upon a certain Doctor, slumped on the floor of a diner bathroom, looking exactly like her namesake. Equally so with Moira sporting her own, and opposite, changes. Demon hooves click lightly on the tile as she pauses to take in the sight, tail lashing like a whip behind her. So this is who had screamed, caught in the grip of her changes.]

Well well. Our Guardian Angel has finally deigned to grace this quaint little piece of hell with her presence. I must admit, of all those to be pulled here, you are not one I would have considered.

[Graciously, as always, Moira reaches behind her to undo the straps of her jacket from around the base of her wings, freeing it from her body and leaving her in a button up shirt. She moves the small distance towards the other and offers the jacket to her.]

Do take it. It will avail you more than your current outfit. [Scrapped as it was.]

[There are, despite the circumstances, a thousand biting remarks on her tongue when she hears the voice and sees that Blackwatch's pet mad scientist hasn't been spared monstrous changes either. Fittingly, her changes seem demonic as opposed to Angela's biblically accurate angelic traits. A thousand more biting remarks jump to mind about ethics and looking the part. But while the pain recedes slowly, all she can manage is a quiet:]

It would be you. I'd hoped to never see you again, let alone like this.

[Angela does accept the jacket, however. Her wings are...inconvenient at best as she tries to fasten the straps, but she manages and rises to unsteady feet, noticing that she feels...taller. Perhaps it's a trick of having more eyes. Or perhaps the bone-deep ache in her body was from literal sudden bone growth. Who could say. She looks Moira up and down for a moment. She could probably say.]

You look like you've been here for some time. Am I to assume you've been studying the transformations?

["Causing some of them?" says her accusatory glance.]

I'm wounded, Doctor Ziegler. I've always held you in such high regard.

[She makes no move to help the other to her feet, knowing her attempts to assist would most likely be knocked away anyways. Plus it lets her observe the way the other moves, and gives her a wider angle of the changes. Extra eyes. The faint light, a touch of holy that crawls against her skin in a faint ache. The halo. She's not surprised in the least. This place does love it's jokes.

The accusatory look makes her smile, a light upturn of the corner of her mouth. Oh, she can read the thoughts behind those eyes. A slight arch of her eyebrow is her only answer to that, though she will answer the rest of it, wings flexing a little on her back before settling in tighter.]

Indeed. While the technology here is woefully lacking, there have been others before me doing the same, and combined with their notes left behind I've managed to sequence out a few of the strains.

[Her tone suggests that while she's sequenced it well enough, doing anything to manipulate it is another matter. Curling her finger against her chin, she studies the good Doctor some more, her tone thoughtful.]

Ask your questions, Doctor, I will fill you in with what knowledge I possess.

Oh there is no doubt in my mind that you are brilliant, Miss O'Deorain. [Angela meets her gaze for a moment, eyes fierce and glowing with ethereal light.] Brilliant, but brutal. You are an incredible scientist, but I can't say I have much love for your process.

[It feels conspiratorial and wrong to be talking any semblance of "shop" with an ex-Blackwatch member. But she wants to understand and so she rubs her arms self consciously and considers the situation.]

These transformations, they are what, exactly? A byproduct of some sort of disease? Or poison?

[Ah, the familiar back and forth. She did miss it. To the question, she folds her arms lightly over her chest and moves to lean against one sink, resting her weight there, her tail curling along her leg.]

If only it was so simple. It is no contagion, as myself and countless others have confirmed. No. As loathe as I am to admit it, these changes are the product of the very same thing that brought us here.

[For once her voice lacks the usual light tone. It's flat, and her expression is one of disdain.]

A capricious "God", Dear Doctor. Magic. While the changes do go down to our very cells, and thus should be easy enough to reverse or alter, certain areas are obfuscated behind this Gods power.

That's...

[Absurd. She stops, breathes. She has six wings, four fully functional eyes, a tail and horns. What's she going to do, look someone in the eyes who's been here and done the science and tell them they're wrong? Wrong just because she can't believe them? No, that would be absurd.]

That seems impossible. [Angela eyes her skeptically. That being said...] But you would not say it if you were not certain that is the only answer, so there must be evidence to support it.

[Or at least evidence to exclude all other possibilities. Mostly to herself, she says:]

And you have tried, of course, to change or remove the effects, then. What, medically speaking, do these changes do? What does this "magic" actually affect? The changes are not cosmetic only, I suppose.

[She can hazard a guess what Ziegler is about to say and she tilts her head lightly in acknowledgement. She has spent countless sleepless nights going over the research, trying again and again to uncover what this magic hides, only to be thwarted at every turn, or teased with a hint of success. Resting her elbow on one hand, she rests her chin in her fingers, long claws stroking along her bottom lip in thought.]

Unfortunately, I am quite certain of the results. There are others here with similar knowledge as I, and despite our heads together, we've made little leeway. [She smiles a little to the next set of words.] Why Ziegler, you know me so well. Every attempt to remove the changes is met with varying results. Most of the time, it's quite dramatically opposite of what I would expect. Changes hastened, weaknesses increased instead of removed. It would seem our most benevolent Deity does not like us tampering with her pets. And oh no, far from cosmetic only.

[Pushing herself away from the sink, she holds her scarred hand out and curls her fingers. Within her palm fire instantly springs to life, her odd eyes burning red as she calls it forth. The faint scent of brimstone accompanies it, before she closes her fist and snuffs the flame, smoke wisping up to the ceiling and her eyes returning to normal.]

It affects our very genetics, grants us new powers, but also curses us with a variety of weaknesses. Your wings, like mine, will grant you actual flight. You will cast light from your very being. And... [A little smile here as she eyes the new height.] You have gained a bit of height.

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TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

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Angela "Mercy" Ziegler | Overwatch

four

oh this is delicious, bless your heart

i live to serve

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