TDM: JANUARY/FEBRUARY

[ryslighelpers]

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.

Comments

[ikutachi]

[ The bitter expression just makes Wakaba's own frown deepen. He doesn't know and no one else is here. This is already vastly irregular. Okay, that's fine, no need to panic. She pulls a cell phone out of her other pocket and - the screen has a hole smashed through it, a few blue petals falling from the gash.

Nevermind time to panic, but the stranger's words wash over her like white noise. The manner of speech is just weird enough that she has to run over the sentences a few times. He thinks the graves are empty.

... Yeah. They're empty. One tiny solace. Whether or not it's meant to cheer her up, it's how she's choosing to take it, and Faramir gets a genuine smile for an answer. ]

Thank you. [ And the destroyed paperweight is shoved back in her coat; unpack that problem with later. ] What's your name, sir?

[nearamir]

[He inclines his head a little in acknowledgement. He, too, had a moment of dread at the graves around his own - save that they could not be true graves, for Boromir's name was written upon one, and Boromir had no grave at all.]

[As well, then, that whatever brought them there made such an error. Her smile is a relief. It is the first one he has seen in some time, and he answers it with a smile of his own, though it is not a particularly happy one.]

Faramir. Lately Captain of Gondor, though whether I may still lay claim to that title, I do not know.

...What was that, which you carry? Broken, that much I see, but beyond that, it is strange to me. [And given the situation, it seems to him that any information may be important.]

[ikutachi]

Captain of...?

[ It's genuine confusion, but she can find excuses for it. There were a few cases of foreigners escaping to Shikoku's borders. Gondor might be some strange sporting club, she doesn't keep touch with that.

But... how does he not know what a phone is. He's clearly not joking. To not know what a phone is in 2017 is... absolutely insane. But she's had to accept the absolutely insane before. At least there's an easy to check. ]

A quick question first. Have you heard of the Shinju-sama?

[nearamir]

[Never in his life has he come across someone who did not know at least the name of Gondor, and the strangeness of it itches at the back of his mind, a nagging sense of wrongness. How far can he have come, or how long lingered in death and darkness, to find himself so much a stranger?]

[It is less of a surprise, then, to find that her question has no familiarity to him, either. Shinju-sama does not even sound like it can belong to any of the languages he knows, in its ring or in its tone.]

[He shakes his head, his discomfiture flitting across his face.]

Not by that name, in any case. Ought I to?

[ikutachi]

[ She has no idea where to take that bit of information. The Shinju has always been the Shinju; to be unaware is impossible. Is this Yomi? Or is she alive and another place outside Shikoku somehow survived? Maybe it's just a weird lucid dream.

Either way, the musing is dumped. She can only handle the problems right in front of her. ]

No. I think we're from different homes. As for my... uh. [ How do you even call a phone not a phone? ] ...object? It's- It was a phone. You use it to keep in contact with people and read the news and such.

[nearamir]

Fuin?

[It isn't quite right, not quite the word she said - but it is the way he hears it at first, and it seems to him deeply inauspicious. Fuin: darkness, shadow, night. The near-certain knowledge that fuin is not what she said cannot wholly keep it from seeming to him an ill portent.]

[As much an ill portent as the description, which - innocent as it is on its face - sends another shiver of dread through him. Of old, there were such magics, and among the Elves perhaps they linger; but it is not Elvish magic that comes to mind in this misty and ruinous place of death. It is, then, a reminder of how lost he is; another thing to place him off balance.]

[He clears his throat.]

Then we are from different homes indeed, for I cannot think that such a thing would go unmentioned in all the annals of the Wise. And yet, I know not how it can be.

[ikutachi]

Not quite. It's "fon".

[ And Wakaba remains silent and still as he continues to speak, and even a bit after. He's never even heard of phones, can't even comprehend them, so... Not a where, but a when? How does that even work? For as confused and lost as she is, it must be infinitely worse for him. ]

...I think a discussion is order, but not here. [ That one light in the distance pacing the graveyard is still far off and all the better he stays that way. But where to go? It's not like she knows the area. Violet eyes rest on the graves one last time, idly shifting to the names she knows are dead.

She can mourn later. Maybe there's a tall tree nearby. ]

Let's move. Tell me about Gondor on the way.

[nearamir]

[Faramir considers this a moment, then nods, his own gaze drifting to that faint and moving light. Best to avoid the watchman of this place. Best, then, to strike out in the opposite direction, and keep straight until they reach something to cause a turn, or until the rain and fog clear enough to let them see a clearer way.]

[Almost to himself, with wry and bitter humour:] At least we shall not want for landmarks.

[And he begins to walk, roughly in the direction he was heading when he approached her, glancing back and down to assure himself that she is keeping pace. Not that he is walking fast, but his legs are long, and it strikes him that she may have her own ideas of where to go.]

What would you know of Gondor? [Not because he minds answering, but because it is hard to know where to begin.]

[ikutachi]

[ There's a short laugh. Mist is a wonderful landmark and they absolutely won't get lost. ] I'm sure they have a booming tourism industry.

[ Major export: moody themed postcards. Either way, Wakaba follows without issue. She keeps pace fine, if only because she naturally walks at that Slightly Too Fast clip that people with military experience keep. No idea where she's going, but damned if she won't get there fast. ]

I've never heard of it. [ A pause, then a tentative follow-up. ] ...But I don't know much outside of Japan.

[ Aside that America exploded first, but. You know. Maybe she's just a moron and having hyper-specific school lessons means she never learned about Gondor. Maybe isekais aren't real! It's a good dream. ]

[nearamir]

[Another name he has never heard; another sense of the world shifting beneath his feet. Or perhaps that is only the mud, which is less than steady beneath his boots.]

[He sighs, and is silent for a moment, his brow furrowed, considering what best to say.]

It is strange to think of, that you do not know it; for since its founding, Gondor was ever said to be the greatest of the kingdoms of Men, not in might alone but in size likewise; and in truth, I have rarely had cause to think that it might not be everywhere known.

It lies to the south-east of Ennor, which in the common tongue men call Middle-Earth. To the south is desert and the western Sea; to the north the marshes and the plains; and eastward lies the Shadow - of which we will not speak, I think, in so dark and fell a place as this. And much and more I could say of its geography, to try and place it in your mind; yet I think it would be a false errand, for since my youth I have made study of maps and lore, and never in all that time have I heard of Japan. Your home must lie further from Gondor's shores than I knew was possible.

[ikutachi]

[ The more he talks, the more recognizes how his speech is... strange. Not a bad strange. It's reminiscent of her grandmother; that old method of cadence that she was never quite good enough to master, never had the presence to be anything more than a child playing chivalry. It's nice. Anyone else from home would probably mock him for it, but it's Nice and it's a nice indulgence.

For a bit. There's too many places her mind wishes to wander and Wakaba will be having none of it. This has to be grappled with. A kingdom in Ennor. Which means, even if she doesn't know Gondor, she should know that one. A continent, or at least a country large enough to have a kingdom within its borders. Nothing. Each word after makes the weight worse - a place so large as to contain deserts, seas, marshes; an ominous Shadow that might also be a place?. And for someone who studies maps to not see Japan on it is...

Is what. That was the shortest explanation of his home. And yet there is no mention of the sun's betrayal. Humanity lives on, somewhere, with no Vertex to end them. It's heartening in ways she would never be able to say, but her steps slow. The incongruency between it all is too much. ]

It sounds... like a different world. [ And all she sounds is lost, but with a rising denial that has no spine to it. ] ...Surely that's not possible. I assume you know of places other than Ennor, even if just from your studies. Do you know the Eurasian supercontinent?

[nearamir]

[That lost tone plucks something in his heart; a kinship between the lost, perhaps, or perhaps it is simple pity for a young girl far from home. In any case, he cannot help but feel for her, in her uncertainty and her denial.]

[And so it grieves him that he must cast his mind back to old maps and to the long walks that once he took with Mithrandir, those talks of the world that was and is; and find no answer there; and shake his head.]

Not by such a name. There is Ennor, and the South Land, and the Sun-Lands, and those are all the known continents of Arda; and to those who can travel the Straight Road beyond the world, there lie Aman and Tol Eressëa; but of Eurasia I have heard nothing at all.

[He falls silent a moment, but it is not a silence that invites filling; there is a distant look in his eyes, and thought creases his brow. When he does speak, it is slow, as though he is still deeply entangled in his thoughts.]

But it is said that when the world was sung into being, it was not alone in the Void; and from the Flame Imperishable there may spring other worlds besides. Is it possible...

[He trails off. It does not seem possible - but then, nor does it seem possible that there is some whole other continent which even the Wise have never heard tell of or given a name to, which not even in the most ancient texts of the Elves is mentioned. The most realistic possibility is that they are simply struggling with a problem of language: that Eurasia is another name for one of the known continents of the world. And yet...]

[And yet, it does not feel that way; and he is a man, in general, given to trusting such leadings of the heart.]

[ikutachi]

[ There's the start of a word that gets choked back before it can get further. None of it makes sense. The locations are none she recognizes and alternate realities are impossible.

And... she is throwing a tantrum. Four years prior, she would have never believed that humanity would go nearly extinct, or that monsters were real and fed on the innocent. It was a truth that had to be accepted to continue living. This is... It's just a less violent version of that. She comes from a home in Japan. He comes from a home in Ennor. Both are now adrift. ]

Sometimes we leave all we've known.

[ There's a faint sadness behind it, but only the kind that comes from idle musing. Eyes close, one hand rests on her chest, and she exhales. Both are now adrift, but still they walk. Simple as that. And just like that, the small glimpse of weakness is gone and thrown in a box with all the other Deal With It Later tier problems. ]

Then we assume it's possible. We should mentally prepare for the worst. This place might be a world that isn't yours or mine.

[nearamir]

[He nods slowly - not the slowness of one who doubts, but that of one who is, in this very moment, accepting the truth. It is, after all, a truth that has lurked in the periphery of his thoughts since the moment he awoke. Something is unnatural here; this much, he has known from the beginning, by his very presence.]

[And yet, slower still, it begins to dawn on him that it may not be as unnatural nor as fearsome as he thought. Stranger than anything he has said, perhaps, is the look of near-relief, of hope, that touches his expression for a moment.]

Or it may be simpler still by far. For is it not said that even Manwë himself does not know what becomes of the souls of Men, when their bodies fail them?

Does it not seem natural that whatever passes beyond life, it would be something we would share?

[ikutachi]

[ Honestly? The words aren't that strange. If a thought is cast to the Deal With It Later box, the option Wakaba would have bet on is that this was her punishment. The others aren't here because she failed them, simple as that, so of course she'd be banished to some hellscape without her friends, powerless. Of course her blade was rescinded; she was no longer worthy of it.

But how Faramir describes his afterlife, the hope in his voice; what he sees is not nearly so bleak. Ignoring whatever Manwë is, probably a God, the world he sees is one she fought for. Written in different names, in different worlds, but a place where nowhere as bleak as long as the weight is shared. That every soul here has a second chance to share their stories together. She wants to believe it.

No. She needs to. She owes them as much. ]

...Yes. I hope so, truly. People are strongest when they walk their lives together. I... I just pray everyone else went somewhere nicer.

[nearamir]

[It has always been easier to find hope for others than himself. His own hope for this place is slight - that it is some natural thing to find himself here, that he has not been raised by darker forces, that death has worked itself as death must - and until she says that last, he has not thought much about the place itself. Now, though...]

We do not know yet what lies beyond this burial ground. [Assuming, of course, that anything does. To say that part feels cruel.] We do not know what manner of place this is.

Take heart, my lady. This may still turn out to be that somewhere nicer.