Test Drive 23

[sixthiteration]

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The 3 rules of the TDM

1. It has to take place in the 6I universe.
2. It cannot be the character's arrival into the game.
3. Please only test new characters who do not have a version in the game. Our cast list is here.

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Prompts

• FULL VIEW - The Observers really do their best to make each villager's wrist device as user-friendly for them as possible, but with all new tech, sometimes there's a learning curve... And sometimes, you just screw up. Like now, when you've accidentally triggered the video option and called someone completely random on the network without realizing it. Yep, you're just going about whatever, totally oblivious. Here's to hoping that your clothes are fully on, and that the person on the other end is nice enough to speak up sooner rather than later.
• SHADOW OF A DOUBT - Being the intrepid (or just bored) villager you are, you've gone exploring and found yourself a very interesting (if moderately spooky) cave. What lurks in the dark? Might it be some shadow dust to turn you intangible? Or perhaps a cave wolf with all of its little goblin-monkey friends? Maybe, just maybe, it's both.
• ILL AT EASE - 'Tis the season for the common cold, and you've got it. Unfortunately, the village doesn't have a corner drug store, so you're achy, miserable, maybe a little feverish. The good news is a little time in bed should do the trick. That is, if you're not the sort who has to be bullied to take care of yourself anytime you get sick. Either way, maybe you'll be lucky enough to find someone to tuck you in and bring you some chicken soup.
• WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.
• NETWORK - All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text and video messages to other villagers. Text and/or video are allowed, any length. Display names may be changed by characters on the fly, but anyone can tap to see someone's real full name.

Please list your CHARACTER NAME, CANON & PROMPT NAMES in your SUBJECT LINE.

Comments

[thewardenqueen]

It breaks in her chest, then her eyes, as she hugs him back powerfully, shoving her face into thick fabric at this shoulder. It's been years since she's seen any of them, and Maker's breath, hearing the endearment in that honeyed tone is almost more than she can bear. It's a kindness, an incredibly generous extension of himself to someone who is, truly, a stranger, and she couldn't be more grateful.

That Alistair is there, somewhere, that's something she can't focus on. Not yet. It will ruin her.

"I've missed you so fucking much," she says.

[ombranera]

"How long has it been for you? Alistair had not seen me in a decade- I am from the celebration just after we ended the Blight." So far behind. So much to come that he does not know, so much he has to navigate without understanding. Zevran holds her tight, tucks her close against his slim frame- and resolves to let hunting slide for the rest of the day.

She isn't well.

"Come. I shall take you to the inn, we shall warm you up." Tea. Tea and chowder and something baked. Something to warm her through.

[thewardenqueen]

She gasps when he says it- he's barely left the Blight behind- and the sudden intake of cold air sets her lungs to spasming and her to coughing, turning her face from him and into the collar of her own poor coat. She doesn't need to repay his kindness with infectious disease.

"Not so long as that," she chokes out when it's subsided. "My current mission allowed our paths to cross, briefly, a few years back."

She tucks back up against him immediately and lets him set their course, implicitly trusting. If it is the Fade, if he is a demon- fuck it, in all honesty.

"But it has been ten years since the Blight. What a pity you can't tell me how gracefully I've aged," she sighs, fingertips brushing along her own cheekbone with an air of mock-vanity, traveling to push a few wild wisps behind her ear.

She'd been seventeen at her joining. It hardly feels real, to be approaching thirty and be so much farther from home than she could ever have imagined.

[ombranera]

"Was I as dashing as ever?" He murmurs, patting her back gently through the coughing fit. It's a hacking, wet cough- the like of which he's heard in plague victims, but this place has no plagues to fear and physicians enough. With a careful hand around her shoulder, he guides Madame Cousland back to the inn.

To the hearth, to tea, to mulled wine. To preserved healing peaches. "You are the very picture of health and youthful vigor, Amica."

He turns, illness or no illness, to brush his lips against her cheek. Teasing and friendly and the same he'd offer Alistair or Jonas, for she is just the same, is she not? "You could share your world with me, if you like- but I feel as though aside from your lovely chest and name, you are much the same as the man I knew."

[thewardenqueen]

"Are you mocking my poor health or was that a really atrocious pass?" she asks, entirely unbothered by it either way, smiling a little at the touch of his mouth.

"If you get sick, it's the fault of your own altruism, no bitching about it to me."

After a few steps it occurs to her that, however much he might insist on calling her Amica, and however much it may be a balm each time he does, he ought to know her proper name.

"It's Harry, by the way. Well, Angharad. But," she shrugs. Whatever else is one to do with a name quite so weighty as Angharad but choose the nickname that could most undermine its grandeur.

[ombranera]

"Yes? Yes." He shoulders the door to the inn open, leading her to a chair close to the roaring hearth. Warmth and a good meal ought to help with this hacking illness. "I'll be fine. Illness does not translate to elves so easily as it does to humans."

Other illnesses, of course, do gut him regularly that don't quite hit humans the same way- but it is simply how their various strange bloods work. "Let me fetch you some tea, Harry."

Without batting an eye. Like it's something he's said many a time, without making a thing of it. Tea, stew, a good hunk of warmed bread. "Wasn't that your great Aunt's name? On your mother's side."

[thewardenqueen]

The fondness is overwhelming, and she fears it's going to come leaking out her eyes. She smiles at him, accepts the offerings when he returns with a hoarse "Thank you," and sips the tea first. When she speaks again, her voice a little more it's usual tone, only slightly lower for the sickness.

"It was. What an absurd detail to remember." She smiles, more at ease for being in his presence, sinking into the chair more deeply than she might normally.

"And for posterity's sake, you were exasperatingly, unbearably dashing, for the duration of our acquaintance. Nice when things don't change."