Test Drive 17

[sixthiteration]

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→ Holds and applications are always open. Holds are required for all applications.

→ Choose one of the scenarios below or make up your own. Feel free to try multiple scenarios.

→ Write LOGS or TEXT prompts, or both.

→ THERE ARE ONLY THREE RULES FOR 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.

→ TDM threads cannot be used to meet AC, but if the character is accepted into the game and both players agree, you may keep the CR.

→ Character want ads are here.

Prompts

It's springtime in your brand-new home, villagers! Many exciting new experiences await you, although you might want to take care; not all are for the faint of heart.

1. NEW FRIENDS - Congratulations, you are now the lucky recipient of the undying love and devotion of your very own CROC-DOG. Maybe you fed it, or maybe you just didn't run away screaming when you saw it. Regardless, it's your buddy now through thick and thin. Constantly. Everywhere. All the time. We hope you're up for some companionship!


2. LET YOUR EENT SHINE DOWN - You've come across a SHINE BIRD. You heard its call. Now you can expect an hour's worth of sudden, intense increase in one of four emotions: Joy, sorrow, rage or loneliness. It's entirely possible you'll be apologizing to some people tomorrow.


3. SPRING IN SPRING - Hey look, it's everybody's favorite prompt: It's warm enough now that it's not completely crazy to go have a dip in the HOT SPRINGS. Naked. And then accidentally get caught.


4. WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.

Texts

All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text messages to other villagers.

- Texts may only be 140 characters long
- No video or voice, text only
- No usernames, everyone is listed by their name

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

Comments

Stone of Indigo Cloud Court | Books of the Raksura | 3

[scarsolderthanyou]

It's not quite just like home... but it's closer than the baths in the buildings, with their porcelain and their faucets and their closed-off rooms. Stone is pretty content, sunk into the hot water up to his chin and at least half asleep if not most of the way asleep. His clothes are dropped in an untidy pile on a rock beyond splashing range. As one of the new local non-humans, his skin is gray all over, weathered more than wrinkled, and matching his gray hair.

Barging in on a grumpy old man dozing in the hot springs probably isn't the best idea, but obviously that means someone is going to do it, right?

[fwips]

There are people from other worlds. This isn't news for anybody around here for sure, and it's definitely not news for anybody living remotely close to Manhattan, or at least the version of it that Peter knows. Is he still getting used to the idea that there are actually sentient, human-like beings wandering around here who look like they stepped out of the Mos Isley cantina? Why yes. But he's learning.

The curve on that learning is maybe a little steep, though.

There's a man in the hot springs and Peter thinks he might be dead. Normally, he would run over, check his airway, start compressions just like they were taught in that CPR course at the Y... but if the guy is not dead, Peter's in the water with his hands on a potentially cranky, obviously naked alien guy. Is he gray because he's dead, or gray because he's gray?

Only one way to find out.

"Hey!" he calls, hovering at the water's edge in his cut-offs and boots, bath towel draped over one arm. "Do you need help?"

Amelia Heartstriker | Heartstrikers | 1

[thelastoftheas]

"Shoo."

Amelia-- tall, slender, very pretty, very messy, and slightly drunk (like usual)-- flips her hand in the croc-dog's general direction, looking somewhere between distressed and annoyed. The creature gapes its jaw at her in something that might in another creature be considered a grin.

"Go away," she tries again. It just inches closer to her, to her frustration. "Ugh, how do I get rid of you? Couldn't I have attracted one of the feathered things around here, at least?"

Jenny of Oldstones | Fandom OC (ASOIAF)

[dancedwithghosts]

I. New Friend

There were stories about the Children of the Forest and the land that Westeros had been before the First men. It sounded like a wild and untamed place, similar to this world, as green, beautiful and dangerous. There was even a magic in this place, nothing like the stories or what Jenny had seen from her woods witch, but it was as mysterious and tantalizing.

While that feeling of awe subsides a little, it doesn't completely disappear. To try and keep her wonder, Jenny ventures out each day to explore. The woods are wide and the creatures are different than anything she had seen before. Some obviously threatening, but most she comes across are soft and gentle. They shy away at her approach, only one staying in place and staring at her with the same inquisitive expression.

Truth be told, it's a bit hideous, but that's never stopped her interest before. There's something about the creature she recognizes, something between a dog and some sort of reptile, maybe something close to the Neck. She offered a bit of her bread to it, holding out her hand as it came closer.

"There now. You're not afraid, are you?" She smiled, running her hand over its back. It didn't even scamper when another person came through the brush, trampling over branches and dead leaves. "Brave creatures. Have you ever seen anything like this before? I don't even know what to call it?"

III. A Quick Swim

The springs are beautiful and warm, more than what Jenny expected after her arrival. The waters in the fountain had been cold and as clean as the river seemed, it was nothing like this. As nice as those pipes and running water could be, it was nothing compared to the natural world. A warm pool, hidden among the forest where there is a certain hush that lets you believe you rest in the heart of the world.

She stripped off the scrubs, dirtied and ripped from her trampling in the woods. Her boots had been left behind long ago, her feet dark from mud and soil. The water was sweet against her skin, a song that made her hum with delight. She leaned her head back against the stones, her hair falling against her shoulders in soft curls.

This was a public place and there would be others coming along soon enough, but the idea didn't disturb her. She wouldn't trade this feeling for modesty for anything.

Peter Parker | Marvel | 3 (Sorrow)

[fwips]

Peter Parker is laying in the middle of the street, staring listlessly up at the sky, and that's just how he likes it.

Well, if he liked anything. Which he doesn't anymore. Was there ever a time he liked something? He can distinctly remember smiling and laughing, but it all feels so wrong now, so false, like it happened to someone else. Obviously it couldn't have been him; how could he ever be happy when the world is filled with terrible, awful, heartbreaking things every, single moment of every, single day?

There's an ant crawling on his arm. Its little legs tickle, raising goosebumps on his skin, but Peter doesn't laugh. It's probably going to bite him, and the bite will get infected and he will die, because that's just the harshness of life. There is no lemonade from these lemons, kiddo. A sob bubbles up from his throat, tears welling in his eyes and sliding down to collect in his ears. They're probably going to get stuck in there and he'll have that horrible feeling of water in his ears for the rest of his entire life, until he goes deaf from it. Or dies. Again.

[theluckygirl]

After helping out with some dishes at the inn, Claire wasn't much for sticking around seeing as it was mostly empty. Yet, she wasn't quite ready to call it an evening so she decided to head over to the clinic and see what she could organize.

The body in the middle of the road, however, managed to get her attention first and she absolutely thought the worst. Who wouldn't? But before she set off towards him in a sprint, ready to do CPR or chest compressions to resuscitate the poor soul, she heard it; the sound of despair.

She remembers how that feels.

Slowing to a stop a few feet from his right shoulder, Claire looks down, not even realising until then how young he was.

"Hi," She lowers to a crouch. "Hoping to get hit by something?"

[iron_beneath_beauty]

It's hard to mistake the sound of sorrow, the sudden emotion an odd disruption to a place where feelings seemed to fall numb. When everyone crawled out of the fountain, the shock seemed to take control, everything else hidden behind shut doors. It was odd to see it on display...but also refreshing. After encountering so many walls, someone offered something real, whether it was intended or not.

She had come back from hunting, empty handed, which happened all too often. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she paused to look down at the ground where the boy was laying in the middle of the road. It was such a random sight compared to everyone working and going about their day. He was young like her, no more than a boy lost in this wilderness.

"Are you all right?"

Quentin Coldwater | The Magicians | 3 (Loneliness)

[thisisyour_q]

Still not sure what the heck was going on, Quentin spent the better part of the last three days trying to 'get it', though it was easier said than done, of course. Between thoroughly explaining Fillory to any poor soul who mistakenly asked questions about where he was from and weighing out the possibility that he was in some corner of the book world while attempting to calculate a way back, it was a wonder he hadn't slipped into madness already.

Then again, he wasn't far off from believing it himself.

Without any of his books or notes, Quentin was looking and feeling pretty lost. So, he lingered in places looking absolutely pathetic because that was essentially who he was. And even though despair seemed to get him down, too, it was not knowing anyone here or having any of his friends deal with all this with him.

Hell, he'd even be happy if Penny was here.

[high_king]

"I say, could you be a good chap and lend a hand?"

It had been a queer sort of day in a line of rather queer days, in Peter's estimation. It had begun not unlike the other days here, everyone getting up to go about their daily business tending to flocks or fishing or tidying — Or at least Peter imagined. (Imagined because he'd only been about a rather short time himself, barely a handful of days.) He had disappeared from several places several times before, and while this might have been the strangest result of all (for he felt rather certain it was neither Narnia nor England), experience had taught him to get on with it. He really had very little control over these things, and there was no sense in crying over spilt milk, as they say.

But the getting on wasn't the queer part. The queer part had been the ant. Or rather, the bite from the ant, and the incredible strength which had followed. He'd felt quite out of control of his own self, which is a terribly worrisome affliction, if you've never had the displeasure. He'd meant to go hunting, as he liked to think he was rather a dab hand (White Stag aside), and had ended up with a kill a bit larger than he'd intended.

Quite a bit larger, in fact.

Presently back to himself, if winded and a bit sick to his stomach, he was attempting to carry the elk back to the inn and making a very poor job of it.

matt murdock. marvel netflix.

[calltoaction]

1. New Friends.

[ Matt had spent the first day, maybe day and a half to himself trying to get his bearings. Eventually, it was a mixture of his own stubborn pride and the ever-present voice of his once mentor that drove him out. Get up. You gonna sit there and cry all day? He found his cane which he'd set next to the bed, unfolded it to tap it out, and headed out of the building he was in.

The world hasn't been this dulled and muted for him since he was first training with Stick. Not only did he train him to hone and use his senses, he also taught him to survive without them. It's difficult, but not impossible, clearly. He's trying to get a feel for the general area, not particularly avoiding anyone, but not actively approaching just yet. He'd rather get his bearings before he starts to dig deeper into what exactly is going on here.

During his exploration, he hears a rustle nearby, and remembers the odd animal that had approached him before. He'd fed it a little of what he had on him, which wasn't much, but it seemed to have earned a bit of loyalty. Matt turns, hunkering down and settling his cane in the crook of his elbow, hand out with the backs of his fingers out towards the creature. ] Back again, huh?

[ It's easy to run his hands over the animal's snout and hide once it's close enough to bump said snout against his hand. There's something like a snort and it nudges at his face, causing a chuckle. ] You're friendly, but I don't have anything for you today.

[ There's a noise from the creature, and Matt's head turns as he hears a step near him. He tries to keep his body language easy, but this place has him wary for obvious reasons. It's not every day one finds themselves kidnapped out of the blue. ] Is someone there?


4. Wildcard.

[ Don't like the top option? Hit me up with anything else, I'm easy. ]


(OOC: Also if you absolutely hate brackets, I'm happy to switch. Just respond however you prefer! Also, he's in red scrubs and has no clue. Feel free to enlighten him. For those in his canon universe (and those just curious) I'm taking him around mid-s2 but that's as far as I've narrowed it down for now. ]

[theluckygirl]

[ Claire has spent far too much time letting loneliness eat her up. Sure, she isn't the only one that had been brought through to this world, and she isn't the only one currently from her world there. But there were still days when she longs to hear the voices of people she came to care about.

Especially one that she didn't think she would ever hear again.

So when word hit her ears that someone new had arrived, it didn't phase her that much. People arrived, people left. That was how things worked there in the settlement. And to believe anyone else she (or Karen) knew personally would arrive was a dwindling hope that she stopped wishing for.

But there he was. Matt Murdock. Alive. Right in front of her. Claire, despite all her strength, can't help but feel the emotion of seeing him again. ]

You know, I didn't think I'd ever see you again.

[ The words, though truthful enough, weren't the first time she had ever said them to Matt. Maybe he would remember, perhaps he wouldn't, but he would no doubt recognize her voice. ]

Not alive and definitely not here.

[digging]

It had felt like a heart attack, that first moment when Karen had laid eyes on Matt again. He'd been still dripping wet from the fountain and impossibly alive, not someone who looked so entirely like him but really, genuinely him, and her heart, seizing in her chest, had felt like it was in a vise. For a moment, she'd not been able to breathe, and while she hadn't passed out, it had been a near-run thing. In the end she'd cried, loud enough to hear, although she couldn't have begun to articulate all of the smudged together reasons she had for weeping.

Seeing him again now is a little better, although she still feels dizzy and her heart is knocking against her ribcage like a bird. She's so relieved and angry and hurt and happy — Once, talking had been the easiest thing in the world for them. Now she has little idea of what to even say.

"Hey," she says, arms slipping across her middle, fingers clutching at her elbows in some attempt to steady herself. "Looks like you found a friend."

1. old friends

[elektric]

[Where Matthew might be making new friends with the animals, Elektra's been finding food, but more importantly, quieting that need thrumming coolly through her veins. The blood covering her hands might stain her scrubs, but the black of them means that they'll keep until a wash. She's not actively following him, but she is keeping an eye out, lurking in the trees as she cleans her knife, trying to decide whether or not she feels sated.

Better, she remembers herself saying. She needs to be better, better for Matthew, better because she's supposed to want to be. Only, here she is again with blood on her hands. Worse, she likes it. Finally cleaning the knife until there's not a speck left on it, she presses a hand to a nearby log, vaulting over it and planting herself on the ground, her feet dangling just a foot off the ground.]

Am I someone? You already know, Matthew, don't you, don't bother posturing.

[She's not better, but there's limits to this place that she's learning about. While she can hardly quiet that part of her, she's smart enough to learn that she has to manage it. At least, until the time comes when she can't.]

Foggy Nelson | Marvel Netflix | 2 (joy)

[avvocato]

[ Look, Foggy's not saying that he found a bird following him and chirping at him and immediately had to feed it, he's just -

All right, yeah, he's definitely saying he immediately had to feed the bird chirping at him. And he's pretty sure it's the best decision ever, but honestly, that might be because he's pretty sure everything is the best ever.

Sure, he's still stuck here with no one he knows but the bird perched on the sand next to him, but that no longer seems to be a good enough reason not to be happy. It's a nice day, the fresh air isn't making him homesick for the smell of the city any more, so he might as well enjoy it while he can.

Which definitely means he's singing. Loudly, and off key, but hey - happily. ]

[digging]

"Foggy?"

It seems impossible — Karen and Claire had given up on ever seeing someone from home again, despite the evidence that they'd been in this place before. Yet there he is, happy as a clam, singing as if he doesn't have a care in the entire, wide world. Which is honestly saying a lot in a place like this.

She's been back in the village only about an hour, just long enough to stow her equipment and use up all the hot water in a nice, long shower, and had just been headed toward the inn to scrounge up something to eat. Her hair's still damp, fanned out across her shoulders and getting her shirt wet, but she doesn't care, doesn't hesitate, instead just rushing in to give him a hug.

Haymitch Abernathy | The Hunger Games | 2 & 3

[juststayalive]

II. (Sorrow)

There's a bird chirping somewhere nearby, and while some might find that a cheerful sound, Haymitch doesn't. He wouldn't anyway, even if this was a normal bird, but it's not, and his mood is the opposite of cheerful.

He doesn't even notice the difference, not really, because he spends most of his time feeling like this anyway. Most of the time he can (mostly) function in spite of the memories. He's found ways of pushing them to the side when it's necessary (which is often), but now, since he's been sitting here on this porch listening to this stupid bird chirping, he can't push them aside anymore.

But he has to. These memories are dangerous. These memories bring up all of the things he won't allow himself to admit he feels, and what escapes his lips isn't a sob but the effort of keeping one in. He can't let them see him like this. All of these things he wants to let out, he can't let it be know that they're there. The people who broke him can't know how well it worked.

Their names threaten to break free, and he claps his hands over his mouth. Names are all he has left, and he won't let those be taken from him too.

III.

Here's the thing about surviving the worst Panem has to offer: even when no one's watching, you assume that someone is watching. Which is why, when Haymitch finally ventures out of the house where he has holed up and ends up at the hot springs, he doesn't undress completely. It might make bathing awkward, but no one's going to see anything they shouldn't.

It might be decades since he was in the arena, and for most of the year, he's mostly left alone, but he'd learned a lesson well, even if it hadn't been the exact lesson the Capitol had wanted him to learn.

His clothes and boots are shoved in a nook between two rocks, hidden from the sight of anyone who may approach. (Don't tempt others with items that can be stolen; another lesson he picked up long ago.) All except his underwear, which he's still wearing. It's better than wearing nothing, and even that can't hide the scars that mar his skin.

He's too complacent. He doesn't notice someone coming up to the hot springs.

2.

[fishermansweater]

At first Finnick doesn't notice anything particularly wrong or unusual about Haymitch. It's Haymitch; his default mood has always seemed to be somewhere between sullen and despondent, and that's just how he is, like Johanna's always bristling with anger and Annie often looks like she's ready to hide. They're victors; he didn't know Haymitch before the Games, but Finnick knows that the victor who comes out of the arena isn't the child who went in.

It's only when Haymitch slaps his hands over his mouth that Finnick actually sees just how dejected the set of the man's shoulders is, the look on his face that the younger man doesn't want to study too closely. But Haymitch is one of the few people here from Panem, and ... they have more in common than just that, sworn secret allies in revolution that they are.

Finnick doesn't say anything, but he stops, leaning against one of the porch railings. He's no slender shadow; if Haymitch's mind is somewhere in the vicinity of this part of reality, Finnick will be hard to miss, even if he's not in his red scrubs. Instead, he's dressed stylishly, albeit in clothes that are by now a little dirty: pale pants, blue coat, white button-down shirt. His hair's longer than he wears in Panem, too, a little overgrown (though nothing near as bad as it was when he'd first appeared out of the fountain). And, of course, the piercing green of his eyes is as obvious as ever in a face tanned by constant sun.

Yeah. Haymitch will notice him.

Frank Castle | The Punisher | 1 + 3

[mademeone]

1; —| New Dog(?) Old Tricks |—
[Last he knew he was covered in cuts and bruises, much the norm, and yet now—nothing. Not a lick. Well, maybe a few licks now, though that was from a small creature that days ago put Frank through the ringer in the way of battle hardened paranoia. He didn't hate it but he sure didn't like the way the bizarre creature had noisily followed him after waking up in a fountain.

Not that anyone would have guessed that by looking at them now. Sat leaning against a tree, there's a small smirk on Frank's lips as the croc-dog happily wiggles at the bit of fish dangled just out of its reach.] Speak, [The command is firm but gentle and earns excited snaps of the creature's jaw.] No, c'mon now, you know this. Speak.

[It takes a few long seconds but after a low growl follows a clicking hiss from the small creature, and Frank lets loose a single huffing chuckle as he drops the reward.] All right, that was good. [Or good enough? He wasn't positive but the croc-dog seemed pleased enough with the praise as it ate, if stamping feet were anything to go by.]

Okay, take it easy, [Frank sighs through his grin, reaching a hand down to pat and rub its muzzle.] You're gonna learn to sit soon. Maybe stay. [Even with petting the croc-dog doesn't seem to simmer down any as it nuzzles into Frank's palm and along his forearm.] That one's going to be tough for you, huh?

3; —| And Now For Something Completely Different |—
No, you... stay over there and watch my clo— [He's cut off by nails scraping rock and a loud splash: Penny, his now ever faithful companion, diving into the far end of the spring to just just stand there, her eyes and nostrils poking above the shallow surface. With tight lips and an outstretched arm Frank simply sighs.] At least you're staying.

[This place was surreal. Food and animals that looked the same from home but weren't? And now a hot spring? The thought of 'what's wrong with it' crossed his mind but there was something about being exposed in the open that pulled at him more. Even if the heat did well enough to pull the aches out of him, Frank eventually slipping up to his neck in the waters, it didn't steal away all his senses.

When he hears a rustling nearby he snaps to it, trying to keep low along the edge of the pool as he waits to see what comes of the noise. Penny even picks up on Frank's movement, poking her head up out of the water in curiosity. Maybe her interest doesn't mark something foreboding; she likes all people. Then again, Frank hasn't had the best experience with them. They're both a little biased.]

3

[digging]

Training animals is not what Karen would call her forte. It's not that she's incapable, it just isn't something that's ever been top of mind — Not when she was a kid, and not now, which probably makes it all the more helpful that the large, lazy dog she inherited had no doubt been given rigorous training before Karen ever arrived. Martha gets in her own way a lot of the time, and often acts more like an old woman than the older puppy she is, but she obeys quickly and stays diligently by Karen's side.

Which makes it all the more strange when the big, shaggy dog darts off ahead of her minder, bounding through the foliage in the direction of the spring. "Martha," Karen calls after her, although there's no real sternness to her voice — The dog probably spotted a squirrel.

Beside herself, Martha bursts through the underbrush and skids right up to the edge of the pool, dark tail wagging happily, paws dancing in the dirt in front of Frank.

"What's up with you? You've never been this excited for a bath—"

Halting at the edge of the treeline, Karen freezes, staring, the backpack in her hand slipping from her fingers to thud at her feet.



(I am 100% OK if you prefer to use brackets!)

Guinevere | Camelot | 3

[bemylight]

It wasn't the sea, and being stared at wasn't as great a danger as before, but it was only by the water that Guinevere could breathe. There were no threats, not the sort that had existed near Camelot. She didn't have to worry about bandits or men seizing her, but that was replaced instead by unseen Observers and strange creatures that looked like they existed in her worst nightmares.

What was there to do in these moments of confusion and frustration? The only answer she knew was to go to the water. She couldn't swim, but the springs were still warm. Careful to leave on her chemise, she slipped into the pool, dipping her head beneath the surface to be fully submerged. Maybe it did come back to being stared at? Wasn't that what the Observers were doing?

She pushed herself up, taking a deep breath as she rubbed the water from her eyes. There was something shuffling around in the brush, near where she left her cloak and dress. She could see the fabric being pulled, held firm in the snout of something that looked like a mix of a crocodile and dog. She grabbed a stick as it began to lumber towards the bushes. "No! Hey, drop that! Stop!" She tried to whack it, hitting the ground near its feet. "Bring those back!"

Re: Guinevere | Camelot | 3

[tooktheblack]

Jon hadn't decided how he felt about the croc dogs in general but seeing one with a length of fabric in its mouth meant that it'd gone and stumbled across someone's bath and being the sort of man he was, he couldn't stand for it. Without a look toward the woman in the springs, he chased after the dog proper, tossing one of the rabbits he'd gotten out of a trap in an attempt to distract it.

"There, go for the rabbit. You don't need a dress, you oaf," Jon said, tugging at the gown and managing to get it away without ripping it terribly. Once he had it, he went back to the springs and tried not to look at the woman in them, not wanting to invade her privacy.

"They're...friendly, somewhat. I haven't decided what to make of them."

Katniss Everdeen | The Hunger Games

[burn_with_us]

i. croc-dog

Katniss doesn't really trust anything about this village. From the way she'd arrived through the fountain to the color coded scrubs and the strange appearances and disappearances, she knows it has to be some kind of games. She isn't going to out and out ask about it, though, unless she's with company from Panem, but she has her suspicions.

How could it be anything but the Capitol when there's mutts involved? She's seen normal game, yes, but there's also animals that she's only seen in a nightmare; there's a bird that looked innocent enough but made her feel as if she was experiencing every death she's ever known over and over again. And then there's...this.

It acts friendly enough but it's grotesque, a hairless creature the size of a large dog, and it keeps following her everywhere. Katniss has always been better at hunting animals than keeping one and this dog looks like it could rip her face off.

"Go," she says, tossing pebbles at its feet. "Leave me alone. I'm trying to hunt," she says, even if it's futile. The damned thing follows her all through the woods and back to the village itself, keeping just far enough away to miss the rocks Katniss is half-heartedly trying to throw to scare it. She won't hit it with them, no, but she would think these close calls would give it a hint.

"I'm not keeping you. Just...go."

[juststayalive]

"Let me know if that works." Not because he's dealing with an overly-persistent animal himself. He's just curious, since, after all, most creatures (or people) don't leave you alone just because you ask them to.

This one might be hovering nearby, but at least it's not trying to kill them. Yet.

"Whoever put this one together outdid themselves."

Peeta Mellark | The Hunger Games

[notbadcakeboss]

This was a different set of games than Peeta was used to, if they were games at all. The presence of the other victors, of his friends certainly was a reason to believe the idea, but there was something about this place that didn't feel like an arena. The houses, the lack of traps and dangers, all designed to push people together and encourage them to continue killing. There were gifts, like what the sponsors sent, but none of it was to help push them further in the games.

This was...just different. Finnick, Katniss and the others might think they were still playing, but Peeta took a different path. If this reminded him of anything, it was a district. It wasn't completely like District 12, they were allowed to hunt without problem and there was more food available. But the homes, the feeling of being controlled, not for entertainment but for other reasons, it all came closer to districts than an arena.

This was what lead him to lower his guard, if only a little. Survival wasn't based on every man for himself. This seemed to rely on the collective. It wasn't a good idea to be secretive or hostile, hiding out in the woods. They needed to be personable and that had always been his strongest suit.

Everyday he helped in the kitchens, as he had done at his family's bakery. With the few supplies they had and the gifts they received, he could prepare something nice for the villagers. Bread, muffins, and cake. There was no edible paint to use, but there were different berries. Mashing them up and creating a type of paint was simple and allowed him to return to what he knew.

Turning the finished product (a scene of the sea, which looked quite a bit like the one he and Katniss had briefly enjoyed in the arena), he smiled with pride. "What do you think?"

[thegreatexperiment]

Sam liked the bakery. Not because she could enjoy the marvels it produced--because ha ha fuck you, Sam, you can't have nice things--but more because of the smell. There was something strangely grounding about the scent of fresh baking. It made her think of the time before the sky fell. She remembered sitting in the window seat of the Halper house, while her mother made challah and matzo ball soup. It felt too saccharine to call the smell a sense of 'home,' but Sam didn't have anything better for it.

Of course, if it wasn't the smell, it might be the cute boy behind the smell.

She looked up from her little perch by the bakery window, where she was working on her newest moonshine formula. "How the hell do you make icing that blue?" she asked. It wasn't a color found in nature.

Not that she was one to talk.

Snapping her notebook shut, she stood up, swaggering over to get a better look at the scene. "It's gorgeous."

Circe | Madeline Miller's "Circe"

[pharmakis]

Aeëtes had asked her what her divinity felt like, but Circe had never been able to give a clear answer. She had felt the beginnings of it on Aeaea, the hum of the flowers and the power buried in the soil. But that wasn't godhood, that was magic, which was a different feeling, though she couldn't put it to words.

Not until she pulled herself from the fountain and made the sharp realization that she wasn't a goddess any longer. She wasn't a nymph, she wasn't a demi god, she was mortal. Mortal. Even now, after a few days of absorbing, the word had the power to shake her. The concept was strange before, when she couldn't understand death. The most she thought of them was that their skin didn't fit right and they all seemed so worn by hardship. She could see those same lines on her face and knew what it meant, it was time. Time and decay.

For all of that, she only needed to step out of her home to feel a surge of relief. This wasn't her island and she wasn't in exile, at least not alone. The plants no longer sang to her, but she could still work some form of magic with them...only not with actual magic.

The woods were as much of a comfort to her as they had been on Aeaea. Her nails were black with dirt and she was sweating from the heat, but the ground felt like an old friend that she could return to again and again. There were a few animals nearby, drawn out of curiosity. One was a particularly ugly beast that reminded her of one of Zeus' monsters, a mix of a dog and a crocodile. It was kind though, nothing like the Minotaur and only wanted to be at her side.

She pulled a handful of tubers out from the ground, lifting it for the creature to see. "What do you think? A few of these with fluffpod leaves? It isn't strawberries, but I think it could make a nice feast." Made by her own hands. "Would you like a plate? Maybe if I trade for a bit of meat?"

She smiled, reaching up towards the tree, plucking a few goldbells. "Do you know how to snuff more plants out? What are you good at?"

Re: Circe | Madeline Miller's "Circe"

[tooktheblack]

Jon had encountered the croc-dogs before and while they were unfortunate creatures they did seem to be friendly enough. When he spotted the redhaired woman trying to feed it, he had to laugh softly. He had never tried feeding one of them - they just seemed to follow him anyway.

He tucks his bow behind his back and draws closer. "It'll never leave you alone if you feed it, you know."

Raven | X Men Marvel Universe | 4

[shehasdreams]

There was something about this place that she just didn't like. It felt off. Waking up in the way that she had, she felt trapped in a world she would never get out of. She wondered just who might have taken her, who would do such a thing. The scrubs she woke in were rough, itchy as it rubbed against her blue skin.

Yes, blue skin. The worst part of being here was her lack of any mutant powers. Hiding behind a building, Raven peered around the corner, trying to step into the shadows and out of the light. As much as she wanted intel, she didn't see anyone else walking around that looked like her.

She had no desire to be attacked. The best part about her power was that she had been able to blend. She couldn't do that here and that scared her. No Charles. Not even Erik. She felt alone.

Sleeping outside under the stars had not been that hard to do, but her stomach started to growl. Soon, she would have to find food. And probably a shower. She needed to make herself known, but what would someone think of the blue girl? She's not sure she's ready to find out yet.

[frankensteinian]

Raven's been doing a good enough job of hiding that there haven't been any stories of blue-skinned women, or at least none that Erik have heard. So when he's walking past the building she's hiding behind, it's not because he's looking for her. He's just going about the course of his daily routine.

Not that it's apparent at first who he is. Bearded (although he does at least keep it trimmed; he hasn't become that uncivilized), wearing jeans and a flannel shirt that has definitely seen better days, and with upper arms that are thicker after so many months of chopping firewood, it's apparent that he's been here awhile. The backpack he was given when he arrived here is slung over his shoulder.

If someone were to ask why he suddenly looks in her direction, the best answer he'd have is that it must have been instinct. But he does, and there she is.

"Raven?"

oerba dia vanille | final fantasy xiii | 1 & 2 (loneliness)

[tosavecocoon]

1: new friends

In all honesty, Vanille isn't sure when she stumbled upon this odd creature. She just turned around one minute and there it was, like a little shadow. It stares up at her and she can practically see its tail wagging with excitement. Really, it's adorable.

A smile spreads across her face and she squats down, offering a hand out towards it. "Hi there, little guy. Aren't you the cutest thing?"

As though it understands her, the little thing bounds forward, bumping her hand with its head. She immediately obliges, scratching various parts of its head like she would a sheep or a chocobo. The creature seems to like the attention and for a minute, it's almost like being home on Gran Pulse again.

"Gonna follow me home?" she asks, finally standing. That does end up being exactly what happens and the villagers will be greeted with the sight of a happy Vanille walking back in with a little crocdog in tow. It's very friendly and so is she. They're the perfect match for people who just want to be left alone, right?

2: let your eent shine down - loneliness

Vanille likes animals of all kinds. Having grown up around all kinds of wildlife, she even likes the big ones that really shouldn't be thought of as potential pets. Behemoths are no one's friends. Adamantoises, on the other hand, could be good beasts of burden... but domesticating them now just isn't feasible. Not that any are anywhere nearby anyway.

In fact, the only thing that seems to be nearby is a little bird. Vanille squats down to examine it, watching from a distance as it chirps out a mournful tone. It doesn't seem hurt, but it's always hard to tell with birds. Or, well, with birds that aren't chocobos. A chocobo would tell you when it was hurt.

Vanille sighs sadly. She misses chocobos and sheep and maybe even adamantoises. It's just not the same here. It wasn't the same on Cocoon, either. Even with her new family and Fang, she still missed what her life was a long time ago. She still does, even here.

Pushing herself to her feet, she turns away from the bird and begins to walk back to the Inn. Maybe she'll find some people to talk to inside, though if anyone asks, she's fine. Completely fine, despite the fact that she's lost the usual bounce in her step. Nothing is wrong at all.

1

[fatedcircle]

Squall is, as ever, pretty much the epitome of wanting to be left alone. Sure, he's better than he'd been, but that's not exactly saying a lot. Especially when he hasn't been much inclined to branch out in regards to making friends. He hadn't been all that good at it back in SeeD, so why should that be any different here?

Which isn't to say that he doesn't do his part. That he doesn't help out. But he tends to be rather standoffish at the best of times. Which, naturally, means it's not too long before Vanille's crocdog comes wandering over to him, and for that Squall is maybe sort of a dog person if you squint hard enough, that still doesn't prepare him for being approached by something friendly that appears to be largely reptilian. As such, there's a moment of silence, as he stares at it, before looking back up at Vanille.

"Is this yours?"

Assuming she knows how to read past the overall layer of Grump, he's mostly somewhere between curious and unimpressed, rather than outright displeased - or worse.

Liv Moore | iZombie | 1

[living_proof]

Pets have never really been my thing. I mean, I had a goldfish when I was seven, whom I cared dutifully for until he went off to the grand toilet bowl in the sky, but I've never felt that compulsion to share my personal space with something that relied entirely on me for survival. Even when I was a kid, there were always too many other things to worry about — Homework, extra credit, cheerleading tryouts, piano practice, earning my woodworking badge... You get the idea.

And of course, even when my adult life got a little less Type A, having a defenseless animal around the house just seemed risky. I'd like to say I've never had those days when I was jonesing bad enough to think about cracking open the skull of something cute and fuzzy, but that would be a lie. And I'd feel bad about that if I hadn't also had moments — Brief! But still relevant — when my bestie's brains sounded like a good midnight snack. It's a thing. I wish I could help it, but that's Zombie Life^TM.

So it's kind of surprising that I've struck up a friendship with the ugliest dog I have ever seen. Maybe I feel bad for it — That's definitely a mug only a mother could love. Or maybe I've just gotten to the point in this drug trip of a life where I'm simply accepting the weird. Because if there is one thing I have learned since I woke up on that beach in a body bag, it's that if you think things can't get even more screwed up, you're wrong.

Currently, I've got a bowl of scraps from the kitchen as I sit on the front steps of the bungalow Major and Ravi (naturally) share, doling out treats to my new friend. The idea was to dump a little of everything in here to find out what this ugly, hairless thing eats. Answer? All of it.

"I guess we're going to have to get you a name now," I tell it as I hold out a bit of radish, which is plucked up with surprising delicacy by those long, toothy jaws. "Rover's probably too trite, huh?"

[zomboligist]

Elated and gleeful are adjectives that have described Ravi basically since the moment he saw Liv's garish hair popping over the top of the fountain. He's still completely thrilled about it, but then there are moments when he remembers that Liv is still new to the whole Swiss Family Kidnapping and Torture, which is why he actually physically bodily jumps when he wanders outside to find Liv feeding a thing that makes him intensely glad that Minor already had his walk today.

"Liv," Ravi whines, "if you keep feeding them, they're only going to come back in droves." He's not saying he's scared of them, but maybe he's just a little frightened of those godawful faces that have been popping up in his nightmares.

Grimacing, he wonders how this can be so abnormal to him, yet raising zombie rats had been a normal way of life, back home. "Please tell me you haven't started a commune for them on our porch," he pleads.

Sirius Black | Harry Potter, 1

[lechiennoir]

Sirius is having a staring contest with a croc-dog. Well, if he had his proper powers, he would be having a friendly game of tug of war as Padfoot. Now, though, he’s holding the dog’s gaze until he tosses a piece of fish for it to catch. At least the creature’s taken a liking to him; people tend to avoid you when you look like you’ve been stuck in prison for a few years. He looks a little thin, haunted, but it disappears when he gives the dog-thing a grin.

“Alright, do you know how to play fetch? It’s not so hard.”

Re: Sirius Black | Harry Potter, 1

[sixthiteration]

Hey! Sorry I didn't notice this the other day -- You dropped this on the TDM the same day we started a new one, so I figured I'd give you a heads up if you wanted to give the new one a whirl. We always have a wild card option, so you can copy/paste this same prompt if you want. :)