onemind: (Default)
THE N E S T ([personal profile] onemind) wrote in [community profile] emptynesters2017-04-04 08:54 am
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TEST DRIVE :003


TEST DRIVE :003


     WELCOME to the test drive and thank you for your interest in Station 72! To allow players to experiment with game mechanics, flexibility and to account for the fact that our TDMs tend to span a number of months to make up for our low player turnover, we've put together a game-themes random scenario generator for you to play with. Mix and match prompts at will, pick your own broodmates, experiment with abilities and specializations, talk to each other and maybe make up some pre-established CR, and generally play around however you like.

This test drive is not game canon, so take this chance to go nuts! Current in game players are also welcome to make top levels here and aren't beholden to their in-game characterizations (so if it makes more sense to be a broodmates of a character test driving, feel free to do so for the sake of these threads).

For the full experience, we strongly encourage players to write up a short blurb about what their fellow characters might know about them either through shared time on the Station or through the Nest mental link. Handy links can be found at the bottom of this entry if you have any questions and APPLICATIONS are always open if you decide you'd like to jump into the game proper. If you're having trouble coming up with a symbiote ability for your character for use in either the TDM or for your application, we have an ability workshop post located HERE.


(Mix and match these prompts at will to create your own TDM scenario - there's no obligation to use something from every category. Feel free to make up anything that isn't covered in the prompt if it lends to your playing.)


     THE PLACE

1. STATION 72 consists of massive, alien sprawl. While large sections of the Station might be mistaken for a Station manufactured for use by humanoid beings - the hangar is relatively standard other than its massive size, the Life Support deck with its series of living quarters seems normal enough (if you ignore the part where none of the rooms have doors on them), and there's even a Jai Alai court -, beyond the most well trod paths the Station quickly cedes to the utterly bizarre. Corridors twist and loop back in on themselves, great verandas overlook massive empty rooms, ramps because stairs which lead to dead ends. It's easy to get lost if you don't have a destination in mind. Strangely enough, if you do know where you want to be, the Station's twisting paths will eventually get you there as long as you keep your goal firmly in mind. Knowing that is another thing entirely.

2. THE MELTED WORLD was once beautiful. Then again, maybe it's always been a toughened old rock, but at some point the planet called Ojan was glassed in the throes of a brutal war. The planet's entire surface has become a twisted, mirror-like substance by whatever super hot biological weapon was poured into it. The material isn't actually that horrible, consuming black; it perfectly reflects the empty, quiet space that surrounds Ojan: a foreboding testament to a war long forgotten. But what lies below the surface of the desolated world?

3. THE SCEPTRE is a fabulous building structure suspended from an asteroid in orbit around a planet. The Sceptre pierces down through the atmosphere of the planet below and over the course of the asteroid's orbit, The Sceptre has an opportunity to pass through every habitat and climate the world below it has to offer. The Sceptre is sleek and beautiful (or it is? Maybe it's fallen into disrepair and only ghosts remain) and its massive windows look out onto a varied, verdant world (or do they? What state is the planet below in, exactly? Has it been so thoroughly paved over that the atmosphere is the only place left to build?).

4. PENTARA PRIME is the ancient, meandering capital of the lush garden world of Pentara. Unlike most cities, it is a large, verdant sprawl, made up eighteen clustered centers - groups of low, elegant stone buildings, strung together by winding roads populated with quietly humming pods moving people from spoke to spoke. The capital is built around leisure, not production and there are far more gardens and orchards than there are buildings. The sun is heavy and low, and the air is still and buzzes with the sounds of fat-bodied insects. It’s so still, so calm. It seems empty and there is something unsettling in the quiet. --Or is it? Maybe it's bustling with energy, just as vibrant and delightful as it seems on the surface.

5. CHORIUS is not quite a planet. Not anymore. Once long ago it was, but over time it has changed - been stripped clean of every valuable mineral, every scrap of rare metal, and eventually even of atmosphere. The core has cooled perceptibly and now even its rotation period has slowed dramatically. Now it is a made up of shaped carbon and steel that bridge over the stripped surface of the planet, pulsing with energies, shielded from the harshness of the sun by a webbed dome that keeps the electric scented air from escaping into the space around it. Here nothing is wasted. Everything - everyone - is recycled and reconstituted into new forms. Every one of the cities changes daily, reformatted to meet new goals and new needs. It is a dead world filled with the living. But whether it is thriving or dying is hard to say - and what the newest change will bring with it is even more difficult to guess.

6. SPACE, THE FINAL FRONTIER. There's a lot of it in every direction.

     THE PEOPLE

1. THE OUTLANDERS consist of small bands of settlers and explorers who have quested out into the unknown, the remote, and the dessicated parts of this galaxy looking for either new opportunities or forgotten mysteries. They are mostly upright though only vaguely humanoid, remnants of a civilization driven from their own failing world, each group is bound only by their own codes and personal laws. They're traders and nomads, largely peaceful but wary of the harsh, dangerous environment and beings they've crossed paths with. Don't cross a deal with an Outlander - they'll make you regret it.

2. A VERITABLE MELTING POT, the beings of this metropolis are as vibrant and diverse as is imaginable. These are a people developed by a myriad of cultural influences, technological insights, overlapping interests and clashing societal norms shaken up and spit out into something that more or less works as long as there's a whole lot of bureaucracy to keep it in order. And boy is there a lot of that. Mind your p's and q's - someone might haul you in for questioning if you cause too much of an uproar.

3. A RUINED GHOST is all that remains of this ancient civilization. Once there were people here leading brilliant or lives, or quiet ones, but all that's left are their ruined structures, old half-functional consoles and signs of lives abruptly arrested. What destroyed these people is initially unclear, but their extinction appears to have been absolute. --Or was it?

4. THE COURT is elegant and beautiful and perfect. Every being is shrouded in delicate, gauzy fabrics layered so densely as to obscure their elongated squirming bodies from head to toe. Each step sounds like a bell ringing from the the small metal plates at the bottom of their soft slippers; every gloved finger glints with small golden threads. The queens sweep through their secret insect gardens and their royal technomancers walk the halls with the glitter of hologlyphs sparkling at their fingertips and in the wake of their sweeping robes.

5. THE GREAT MILITARY is larger even than it’s name suggests. Every member of their civilization plays some part in it, every person has a rank, every family an insignia. The structure is rigid and inflexible and all-encompassing, and it has made them into ferocious enemies. They have been at war for as long as they have been a people, and their battle will never end, because if it did, they would go with it. The harshness of their life is painted on the sharp planes of their grey faces, but there is an indomitability and a pride to them that is hidden by their stern, unchanging expressions.

6. SCUM ALWAYS LIVES at the edge of the universe. Beware the dark of the space and the seedier underbelly of cities or the shadows of forgotten planet - pirates make their living there and these are desperate times, friend.

     THE OBJECTIVE

1. GET UP from where you've fallen. Or get up from the nesting deck pod where you've just woken up on the Station. Or get up to Level 672 where there's a ship waiting for you. Or get up from the knee you've taken before this alien queen. Get up.

2. THE RESCUE might be saving a city from a disaster engineered by an enemy force, playing bodyguard for a government official, or liberating a rare artifact from a crumbling structure.

3. IT'S A RACE AGAINST TIME to collect the relic you've been sent to retrieve from the collapsing ruin. Or to make your way free of the military blockade. Or to make your escape from a crumbling world.

4. THE MASQUERADE is all a cover - for an assassination. For a heist. For a political coup.

5. INFILTRATE you know what you need. And you know who has it. With a little help you’ll be able to break into the place no one is supposed to go. You could sneak in… or smash in. Or maybe just talk your way past every little problem.

6. COME ON AND SLAM and welcome to the jam. It’s a ritual or maybe it’s just a pastime, but whichever it is there are rules and there is a goal. There’s probably even points. If you’re lucky, you just might score one. Avoid the spiky pits? Or maybe the thrown fruit. Or perhaps just the other team...

6. EXPLORE and uncover the secrets this place have to offer. There’s a mystery here if you know where to find it. And all you have to do is look.

7. DON'T DIE is easy to say and hard to do when you're under the guns of an armada. Or when you're trying to outwit spies. Or when the ground is literally crumbling under your feet.


     INSPIRATION







whereabout: was "things that cost $102.50" (my last google search of the night)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-02 10:57 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, "anything" beats the whole lot of nothing this place has proven to be so far.

[ He'll gladly take any sign that they'll actually find something on this wild goose chase. This quiet, eerily restrained wild goose chase. ]
redheadcarrier: (Irritation)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-02 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[ At least no one is shooting at them. Or chasing them. Or, you know, doing anything else. Then again, maybe that's worse. Dying of boredom sounds like it would be positively awful. ]

Yeah, well, blame them for sending us to this weird place.

[ She kicks a rock and watches it skitter over the ground, the sound fading into the still air. ]

I don't even know what they want us to do besides poke under rocks.
whereabout: except replace 'giving' with 'violently forcing' (thanks for giving me that liquor last ni)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-02 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Even if whatever melted the ground messes with scanners, there has to be a more efficient way to find any irregularities than to comb the entire planet on foot.

[ He doesn't even have anything against long hikes - it took a full loop around the kingdom to qualify for senior bracer, after all, and in the end, Cassius had been right - taking the long way instead of hopping an airship had given them a much better idea of the places they were going to be operating out of, the people they'd be working with, what to expect...

There's nothing of the sort to be gained here. Just miles of space glass and enough silence to drive a man crazy.

He stops, touching his chin thoughtfully. Okay. So scanning the surface from orbit was - for whatever reason - not considered an option. But circling the planet the long way is crazy. How else can they approach this? ]
redheadcarrier: (Yeah you're gonna have to come in)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-03 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
You think this people care about efficiency? Dream on.

[ Asuka snorts. She does not have a high opinion of their erstwhile leaders, apparently. Then again, blindly following authority hasn't gotten her very far in life. She did it once and it did not end well. But she's young. She bounces back.

Sort of.
]

If they wanted to be efficient, why would they stick alien bugs in our heads and then make us fight?

[ Not that she's complaining. Too much. Better than being back home, honestly. ]
But they could at least give us a plane or something. Man...

[ She's complaining. Just a little. ]

My legs are probably gonna fall off at this rate.
whereabout: by a swarm of butterflies. nothing is okay anymore. (i just got attacked)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-03 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
Under the right conditions, I can see a lot of efficiency in sticking bugs in people's heads.

[ There's a prickling of something very uncomfortable on his end of the mental link - subdued enough that he's almost certainly clamping down on it, but Things In Your Head is a very touchy subject, apparently. ]

But if they wanted that kind of efficiency, the real question is why they don't go farther.

[ There's an awful lot of independent thought going on in the nest, after all, even with the level of mindmelding that's already going on.

And after dropping that charming thought, moooving right along! ]


At this rate, I'd even be content with one good tree to get the view from.
redheadcarrier: (that's just a bit weird)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-03 10:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Trees? Yeah, right. I haven't even seen a blade of grass since we set foot on this stupid planet. If you can even call it a planet anymore. More like a rock.

[ Hmmph. She shields her eyes with a hand and peers toward the horizon. ]

I think there's a hill or a rise over there. Think that'd work?
whereabout: is that i maced my shadow. (all i remember about walking back home)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-04 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
[ They'll make it work, if that's what it comes down to, because it's still about the only thing that's stood out in any way since they got here. ]

It'll have to. I doubt we're going to find anything better.
redheadcarrier: (Contempt.)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-04 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Unless you can fly, yeah. We should've borrowed a ship from the hangar for this thing...

[ She grumbles and then settles her hands on her hips for a long moment. After that brief moment of pause she sets off, arms swinging as she marches toward the rise. ]

Well? Hurry up!
whereabout: except replace 'giving' with 'violently forcing' (thanks for giving me that liquor last ni)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-06 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)
If I could fly, I would've done that hours ago.

[ But he's following! Like a good boy who's used to hanging out with bossy girls. ]
redheadcarrier: (What?)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-06 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, I don't know! Maybe you've just been keeping it in reserve or something! Sheesh.

[ Asuka rolls her eyes, but still leads them off, slowing down a little as the landscape starts to slope upwards. The glassy, smooth surface doesn't have the greatest traction and she pauses, gingerly snagging an outcropping and trying not to cut her hand open. ]

Maybe they should've given us rock-climbing equipment, too...
whereabout: was "things that cost $102.50" (my last google search of the night)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-08 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's mastered the Dramatic Anime Superjump™, but literal flying is a bit beyond him. ]

Hang on, maybe I have something...

[ Rock-climbing isn't quite what he usually prepares for, but he does tend to stay equipped for his specialties, even on missions where they're not told to expect to need him to be. So when he rummages through his stuff, underneath a few smoke bombs and sedatives, there's a grappling hook.

Only one, though. ]
redheadcarrier: (Feeling wicked.)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-08 05:05 am (UTC)(link)
[ Asuka watches him as he digs into his gear and she actually cracks a smile when he reveals his handy-dandy grappling hook. ]

Hey! You're not totally useless after all!

[ She holds out her hand authoritatively. ]

Let me see it!
whereabout: except replace 'giving' with 'violently forcing' (thanks for giving me that liquor last ni)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-08 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Your approval is the star by which I chart my course.

[ So very deadpan.

He does pass it over, though. ]


You break it, you bought it.
eyedrop: (ιт'ѕ тнe нυмαɴ coɴdιтιoɴ)

[personal profile] eyedrop 2017-11-09 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ This kid is so fuckin' rude. Aizawa's never questioned Bakugo's many talents--there's no doubt that he has conviction to spare, and the raw ability to back it up, besides. But his childish pride and his irrational temper do him no favors. If Aizawa's own comparatively ordered mind can serve as a mitigating influence in any capacity, then he can't say he regrets their connection. ]

Hm. Best to focus on moving forward, for now.

[ They have no way of even finding the monsters that hunted them, nor--Aizawa's supposing--the people who rescued them. He expects the latter might be around here somewhere, though. He starts off ahead of Bakugo, loosening the scarf around his neck. It has more uses than just wrapping people up and throwing them around. If he examines the layout of the next room carefully, he knows he can find a safe way through all the chainsaws and lasers and whatever the hell else somebody dreamed up. ]

Give me a minute.
redheadcarrier: (duh)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-10 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
I'm not gonna break it! What do I look like, an idiot?

[ Asuka snaps a reply and then takes the grappling hook and line. She eyes it for a moment and then gives it an experimental twirl and casts it off. It lands somewhere overhead with a clatter and she gives it a haul to test the strength. Apparently it hasn't caught on anything, because it comes tumbling down the steep slope with a clatter. ]

Watch it-!
whereabout: except replace 'giving' with 'violently forcing' (thanks for giving me that liquor last ni)

[personal profile] whereabout 2017-11-14 12:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ He's far too polite to call her an idiot.

He's not polite enough to immediately deny the possibility, and instead he just gracefully sidesteps when the hook comes clattering back down.

You can almost hear the sad trombone riff. ]
redheadcarrier: (Shinji is an idiot.)

[personal profile] redheadcarrier 2017-11-15 04:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ This is an attack. She's being attacked. Asuka huffs in frustration and picks the hook back up.

She's going to get it right this time. Just you watch.

The hook goes sailing upward again and thankfull it catches on something. Something that might actually hold her weight, apparently.
]
nastygram: (C:\weenix)

darlene || mr robot || open

[personal profile] nastygram 2017-11-15 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
i. STATION 72 - get up.
"Come on."

It's dead quiet in this big empty room. That means Darlene's voice carries out, turns up the volume on her whisper. Her fingers tighten around her phone. Or whatever this is.

The wall behind her back rises up, neutral inoffensive white, same as the floor. There's not a joint between wall and floor. It swoops up, one continuous line, weirdly organic. Balconies stud the face of the wall, much higher up than she can either reach or see. She sucks at vertical jumping but she tried it anyways, because there's no way out of this room except the way that she came, a tangle of hallways she does not want to go back to.

The room is dark except the light spilling from the door, and the light that falls from the doors of each balcony just out of sight, a pleasant yellow glow. Like porchlights in the summer. Fireflies in Central Park. Darlene presses her wrist against her mouth and lets a breath go, sucks a breath back in again. Deliberate, slow. Fighting against this shitty feeling in her chest.

"Come on. Come on, come on--"

Back at her phone again. Scrolling, quickly, looking for-- something. A signal, a connection, a name, a network. Something fucking familiar. Something that makes sense. There is nothing to access but there is a weird prickle in the back of her head that makes her feel like she is being watched, picks raw the wire of her paranoia.

She shoves it all down when she hears footsteps in the hallway. Wary, angry, her breath caught in her chest.

"Hey. Asshole." Two seconds for someone to answer, to lean their head into the room, and when they don't, Darlene snaps, again, "I said, asshole. Come on, dude. I can hear you. Might as well give up and stop creeping."

ii. A RUINED GHOST - a race against time.

In the square, there's a crumbling dais with a console on it. It's the only thing left standing. The columns that supported the roof over the dais are toppled. Whole walls have crumbled away from the buildings built up around the square. So maybe it was superior construction that's kept the console anchored in place, or maybe someone protected it and made sure it kept standing--whatever, whatever, it doesn't actually matter, Darlene isn't here for a friggin' archaeology lesson.

She's crouched behind the console, floor level, with her hood up like it's some great protection. The panel in the side of the unit has been busted out and tossed aside, and Darlene is staring at the wiring inside with a critical eye. Then she reaches inside and pinches two wires between her thumb and forefinger, holds them together.

The sudden scrape of stone on stone makes her shoulders jump up, but when she turns around, she's already grinning. One of the rare walls that has been left standing has a split down the middle--and, slowly, the two halves are pulling away from each other.

Darlene shoves away from the console and slings her bag onto her back, jumps right off the dais once she's on her feet.

The little buzz of pleasure at her success will prickle at the mind of anyone within range--and maybe someone out of range, too. Blips on the edges of Darlene's mind, distant tangential awareness of other people. They're in this together, maybe, tracking down some shitty statute. Quick, stealthy, in and out.

And not that she actually gives a shit about earning brownie points or anything, but if she gets to claim full responsibility for this success? So much the better. That's the signal she's putting out, too--maybe enough to warn everyone else away--and that's why she slips in between the two halves of the wall before anyone else shows up. The luminescent screen of her phone is what she uses as a flashlight. Old habits die hard or whatever.

iii. WILDCARD ME.
Just, you know, whatever, man!
raw: (01011110)

i.

[personal profile] raw 2017-11-15 11:04 pm (UTC)(link)
They don't, because upon hearing her voice Elliot froze.

There must be a synchronicity to it, when they're this close: his mouth goes dry, his stomach clenches, his ribs feels they're a band pulled tight around his lungs. The tips of his fingers tingle. Twinned Alderson anxiety, for very different reasons. All he'd been doing was chasing that twinge of distress and now he's its mirror.

A step forward. Then another. Rubber soles soft on the smooth pale floor. His pupils are huge and dark in his wide-eyes gaze.

"Darlene," he says, when he comes into view, empty hands kind of lifting a little, not quite raised in surrender but the idea of the motion is there, because she's trapped-animal angry. Because he's sorry, he left her behind, he figured either he was dead or everyone was, but the guilt had weighed so heavy it's a surprise she hadn't just —

"You're... real, right?" he asks, like that just occurred to him, that his mind might summon up his ghosts in the same way it has before, fully realized in front of him. But even if she's just a figment or another personality the rush of relief and gladness at seeing her is very real and his pace is quickening now, fast across the room to stand before her. He hovers just outside her personal space for a moment, breath held and teetering, before clutching her skinny body up into a hug.
nastygram: (C:\orphanedinode)

[personal profile] nastygram 2017-11-16 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Backlit, Elliot takes on a weird halo. Elliot. Darlene stares up at him without comprehending, getting it but not getting it at the same time.

"Jesus," she says, and then Elliot grabs her up and Darlene grabs back, puts her face against his shoulder and her arms around him, her weird stupid brother who is here, who is real, and she is very real against him too. Little details, like the frightened beating of her heart and the hitch of her breath and the way her hair smells. Her hands don't shake when she presses them against his back. Something firm and real and familiar.

"Oh my god, Elliot--" Her voice is rough; she swallows, hard. Do not address the question, you're real, do not even go there right now. "What the fuck."

What is happening, is where she could start, what is this, is it real, are you real, and Darlene squeezes her eyes shut and tries to pull in a good breath instead of her short half-assed ones. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"What the fuck," she says, again, instead, and then she pulls back so she can look him in the face. Careful to keep hold of him by the arms, like if she keeps hands on him, she will-- what? Be present and real for her own part. Her eyes narrow, glittering in the sparse light from the hallway behind him and from the honeycomb balconies up the wall behind her. She'll be angry again in a moment, right after she chills. She has got to chill. Please chill.
raw: (00101001)

[personal profile] raw 2017-11-16 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)
-- What the fuck, echoes Mr Robot, Do you think you're doing.

It's been a while since he's done anything except lurk malignant, keeping somehow tight-shielded and out of sight no matter how much of Elliot spills out into the Nest. But he's here now, pacing in agitation the moment Elliot reaches for the symbiotic connection and with it, his power.

He hasn't used it much, hates the way it makes him feel. But this is Darlene, and he can't take it when she gets like this, upset and hyperventilating. Elliot isn't immune to that big brother protective urge, especially when he knows exactly how fucking dire a panic attack can be, so he ignores he flickering presence of Mr Robot circling them, holds tight to her forearms, ducking her head to really try for eye contact in a way he doesn't, usually.

"Hey. Hey. Look at me. Let me help you. Let me in, Darlene." Because instead of platitudes and telling her to breathe deep he's pressing his mind forward. It tastes ozone-metallic and sounds like late night television static, or maybe that's just a feedback loop from her own state of mind. But it's also Elliot, just in the way that she is really solidly Darlene, the messy whirlwind that is her brother's psyche requesting a LAN connection, probing for a backdoor, thinking in code.

She can shake him off, if she wants — more importantly, she can shake off the blanket of calm he sends her. Symbiote-to-symbiote it has to be consensual, he doesnt have the strength to force this sensation on anyone. But it's a pleasant feeling, like a Xanax kicking in, emotions dulled and affect blunted, heart rate slowing, a warm and enveloping calm that comes over her like a hush.
cutting_overtime: (to have to write a formal apology)

Ronald Knox | Kuroshitsuji

[personal profile] cutting_overtime 2017-11-16 09:33 pm (UTC)(link)
[Cheerful and flirtatious and friendly, bright smiles and jokes. A little bit too sharp, too vicious, too prone to black humor. Distant in the way that no human could really be, neither confirms nor denies his own inhumanity but pretty bad at hiding he's got some kind of connection with death.]

i. Sceptre | The Court | Masquerade
[Latticework covers the windows, blocking the view of the decaying world below in a tangled web of bone-white geometry and multicolored panes of a material that probably is not glass.

Ronald Knox ducks through the crowds, dodging winding processionals and formal dances as he scans the crowds for a sign of their target. The masks and disguises don't help at all, but Ron smiles and chats and flirts his way through the crowd.
]


ii. Pentara Prime | A Ruined Ghost | Explore
[Vines wind their way across root-cracked roads and clog the spouts of algae-filled fountains. The hum of insects and the occasional rustle of animals in the bushes is the only actual sound in the crumbled city as the crew searches through the wreckage.

That's not to say that there isn't a British voice coming through the mental link with a poem for everyone.
]

( In Egypt's sandy silence, all alone,
Stands a gigantic Leg, which far off throws
The only shadow that the Desert knows:—
"I am great Ozymandias," saith the stone,
"The King of Kings; this mighty City shows
"The wonders of my hand."— The City's gone,—
Nought but the Leg remaining to disclose
The site of this forgotten Babylon.

We wonder,—and some Hunter may express
Wonder like ours, when thro' the wilderness
Where London stood, holding the Wolf in chace,
He meets some fragment huge, and stops to guess
What powerful but unrecorded race
Once dwelt in that annihilated place.
)

[No true Victoran can resist making excessive literary references.]


iii. Melted World | Outlanders | Come On and Slam
[Here they are in the worst sink-hole Ron's ever seen (and in his afterlife, he's seen a fair bit of the dregs of humanity), and now they're breaking lances with the locals.

He doesn't understand the rules of the game at all, but it's the crew against the locals and the stakes are... high. Deathly high.
]

Do we want to play this game or just bang it out?

[Ron isn't going to shy away from an all-out brawl if it comes to that.]
paracosmic: (pic#8609839)

babydoll | sucker punch

[personal profile] paracosmic 2017-11-17 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
( station: get up )
[babydoll's first breath of air is a heave, as though waking from a nightmare. immediately, she knows she's escaped what had been inevitable, her lobotomy, her sacrifice. the pod makes her feel heavy, her mind weighing her down just as much. there are suggestions, perhaps, or a constant hiss that she's never had before. the asylum never made her feel like this.

but she has to push her confusion aside for now. she pulls herself away from the pod, looking around as she does so. she's petite, standing at 5'1", and she refuses to let her body weigh her down to the floor. she feels so sluggish, as though injected with some kind of narcotic. she swallows her nausea. she has to get used to whatever this is, and she does. she fights it, just as she fought at home. nothing will stop her from reaching her goal, no matter how small it may seem at the time.

by the time she feels confident, she is already halfway down a hallway she doesn't recognize, yet she knows she wants to go there, wherever there is. something is calling here there. she walks quietly, each step giving her more confidence than the last. she will find it. and maybe it's you.]
( the rescue )
[she's been here a month, maybe more, but her skills let her help and protect people more than she's ever dreamed of. she has the iota skillset, and the people that have come to know her will see that she is no laughing matter. in her old world, her mind took her places she needed to go in order to cope, in order to survive. she fought as much there as she will soon fight here. her fist packs a punch, and her chosen weapon is a katana, for the most part, alongside a specialized handgun.]

Hey! You got what you needed -- [babydoll is interrupted by a surprise attack, and she wastes no time to grab the person in front of her by the shoulder, pulling them back so she stands in front of them. as she does so, she fires her gun several times at the enemy, dire hits, but the shots will only hold it back temporarily.]

We have to go. Let's move! I know a way out.

[and she's off, sending one last bullet off toward the enemy, leading the rescued away from danger.]
( wildcard )
( feel free to make up your own scenario! babydoll is a quiet, gentle person, but don't let that fool you! her iota skills are not to be trifled with, along with her leadership skills. and she has a slight distrust of men due to her past. but that doesn't mean she won't give them a chance c: she makes a great listener too, due to her nature. any questions? PM me! )
nastygram: (C:\dirtball)

[personal profile] nastygram 2017-11-19 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
For a moment, white-noise filtered-out calm is all pervasive, and Darlene lets herself sink into it. She can feel Elliot's hands on her arms, still, and she can see him, in front of her--not on that, she can feel him, in a way she can't put to words--and everything else kind of tunes out.

It feels good. Suspiciously good. Darlene gets a hand around the feeling of panic that flutters erratically in her chest, a half-dead bird beating itself senseless against the bars of its cage. Catches her breath. Loosens up that tight exercise band wound around her organs and stuff. In Darlene's ears, there is a sound like staying up past bedtime: static, white noise. Sleepovers, TV in the den. Crawling into Elliot's bed. Old shit. And the feeling makes her want to go boneless. That moment right when you trip, when your meds hit, when you swoop the upswing and start feeling that chemical chill.

And there's Elliot. And.

And.

And she is feeling much less like she's BSoD'ing, Darlene squeezes her eyes shut, pulls in another breath. Less of a shudder this time. There's a weird taste at the back of her throat, a little like a licked battery.

Let me in.

"What the fuck," she says again, quieter this time, and she completes the thought, "is this? Is this-- you?"
deskjob: (Default)

myfanwy thomas | the checquy files

[personal profile] deskjob 2017-11-19 09:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[ myfanwy thomas already has the ability to manipulate organic matter (human bodies, for example, so she can make anyone stab themselves, shut down pain receptors, tc), so i'm playing with the idea of giving her something like (low-level) empathy to complement it. any mindlink with her will probably come with a sense of a blank slate, few memories, but a sense of determination. ]

I. THE STATION
[ myfanwy may not remember anything of her (thomas') life but what thomas had told her in the letters, but she's pretty sure that while it featured the supernatural, it hadn't featured aliens. still, it doesn't seem like much of a stretch, all things considered. if there are people with weird abilities like hers, if vampires are real, why shouldn't aliens be?

she hadn't expected to end up in space, but her life hasn't ever gone the way she'd expected. she doesn't have a basis for expectations, does she? so there's that.

to recap: she's in space. there are aliens. everything is weird, which is really quite normal. she is also very, very lost. this corridor looks loopy, and she's not sure she hasn't walked it before, but she's also not sure that she has, and she's definitely sure that she has no idea which direction she should be going. ]


Uhm. [ there doesn't seem to be anyone around, but that doesn't ever mean no one is, or that no one can hear her, does it? ] A little help here? [ after a moment, she adds - ] Please.


II. INFILTRATE
[ even before myfanwy had woken up after thomas has closed her eyes, the same person and not, a stranger in this body, she's been learning. she's learned how to fake being a rook of the checquy. she's learned how to use her (thomas') ability, and better than thomas ever had. she's come to understand the structure of the checquy, she's uncovered the plot against thomas and found the traitor within the ancient organisation thomas had held in such high regard. she's done things thomas would never have dreamt of doing and the bureaucratic things thomas prided herself in doing well.

she's never done undercover work.

there's a steady stream of don't fuck up, don't fuck this up, don't fuck up going through her mind, but she's still holding her head up high and putting one foot in front of the other. it's not as easy as it seems in these high heels and this dress, it really isn't.

hopefully this won't end the same way the last time she'd worn a dangerous dress had, with treason and stabbing. myfanwy glances at her partner for the evening. oh, i really hope you have more experience with this kind of thing, she thinks, and maybe that's something her partner overhears, or maybe it isn't. maybe it was meant to be heard. ]

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