Test Drive 18

[sixthiteration]

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Test Drive

→ 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

Summer is here, villagers! Sunny skies, warm weather and plenty of weirdness are on the horizon. Don't forget your sunscreen!

1. THE MILK FOR FREE - Somehow, someway, you have been wrangled into milking one of the GROFFLES recently rounded up by your fellow villagers. Maybe you felt guilty for not helping, or maybe you owe someone scary money. Point is, it's just you, a bucket, and your green milk-giving friend. Just a tip: Groffles are good-natured, but you probably shouldn't squeeze too hard.


2. LIGHTNING ROD - Earlier today, you made your way into the upper foothills — Were you hunting? Maybe just roaming? — and you came into contact with a BLUE LILY. Maybe you thought it was so pretty you've carried it back to the village with you. If your house didn't have electricity before, it definitely does now!


3. MEET CUTE - It's a classic: You've gone down into the 6I INN'S dirt-walled root cellar off the kitchen. Maybe you needed supplies or were dropping off some fresh produce. Whatever the case, someone's followed you down for a similar reason... and the door has jammed shut behind them. Seriously, it's not budging. Enjoy getting to know your new best friend in the cozy light of the furnace!


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

[3ofswords]

"I lied," he says, tilting his head very much away from the hunk of metal still quivering at his ear. "Watching you flounder is as much entertainment as I get."

A joke at the guy's expense, sure, but whatever keeps his heart out of his throat and his stupid, impossible life from flashing before his eyes. He does not want the see the badger incident for a third time, or that long night at Angie's, which should remain a blur of sequins, cold cream, and tequila.

At least between the two of them, he hasn't embarrassed himself yet. That might change: turning to yank on the ax head isn't really making him look capable. Looking back over his shoulder, he beseeches the fish-man: "We don't really have a lot of those to go around."

[righteously]

At the very least Kira giving him shit seems to break his floundering, and he levels the other man with a solid, well-practiced bitch face. Listen here you little bastard. Don't make him stalk away saltily or something.

Regardless, he's not going to leave the other half of the damn tool balls-deep in a tree. He ambles forward, bitch face still resting, and shoves the handle of the ax back into the empty hole. Uses it as a lever and manages to pry it out with a certain amount of force. Once it's out, he removes the head again and inspects it distastefully.

"Guess asking for some gorilla glue'd be out of the question, huh?" It's an absent mutter, because it's easy to talk vaguely to himself than it is to acknowledge the guy fucking with his feelies.

[3ofswords]

"I don't know, the powers that be like to send us presents once in awhile. If you want to waste yours on glue, I won't stop you."

Up close and from the front, he's more than a pair of arms and decently broad shoulders: Kira tilts his head to look, but not touch, deciding his life has gone on exactly long enough to touch his tongue to one incisor and keep ribbing the guy with a now complete ax.

"Well, that's definitely the jaw-line of a man raised to prefer his compliments attached to a pair of tits," he says, arms finding a place to rest in a cross over his very flat chest. "Maybe I'll ask for a box of those, if you'd spare the glue."

Which is about as far as it really needs to go. He drops his weight back, leaned against the tree to exacerbate the difference in their heights and let go of his attitude. "I'm just fucking with you," he promises. "It's that or read War of the Worlds twenty times."

[righteously]

"My jaw-line gets around," He snaps, it's out of his mouth before he can over-analyze it or freak himself out about it. It's probably the closest he'll come to acknowledging that one time Phil sucked his face in a kitchen over a slice of valentine's gay cake, or that time him and Cas did... whatever they did in a couple worlds away. He doesn't usually like to admit it, he's about as uncomfortable with his own experiences as a human being can possibly be and still functionally exist, but that smug ass attitude jerks the retort right out of him before he can help it. He even points the handle of the ax at the stranger accusingly.

Just fucking with him, huh? Whatever, pal, let him just be a grumpy asshole over near the woodpile. He's going to be spitefully snatching up logs and tossing them haphazardly into the stack, maybe a little more enthusiastically than strictly necessary.

[3ofswords]

Kira's smile is genuine, sudden, the tip of his tongue resting under the curve of his top row of teeth. It retreats, open smile slowly closing to a curve of lips and one eye crinkling deeper than the other. "See," he says, watching the guy stalk off to his wood pile, "it's more fun when you participate."

His own discomfort sits in a lack of experience: nothing going on, nothing much to feel, nothing very intensely felt around him. He's at least had time to get used to the latter, the way this place strips them all down to very bare, very human essentials. He doesn't need to needle people to know them, to mentally mark where his self ends and their emotions begin, but he's bored, and bad habits are in short supply, and--

You can still get a feel for a person, given a little low-stakes adversity. "What do you and your jaw-line go by," he asks, still leaning, still watching.

[righteously]

Maybe it's the needling or the unflinching, unflappable nature of the guy that may or may not be hitting on him, but there's something decidedly Crowley-esque about this kid. Whether that's familiar enough to be comforting or annoying enough to be frustrating he isn't quite sure yet. He's still deciding.

He's also not sure if this guy's asking his name to be friendly or make a move on him, so he glances up long enough to look Kira up and down.

"Never gonna happen," Is his flat warning, given instead of his name just so they're on the same page. He doesn't even stop stacking when he fires it off. Not that Kira's a bad looking guy, but even if he were inclined to pursue something with another dude again he has a very specific type. Codependent dark haired authority types like soldiers or cops, sad broken down loners with parent issues. Smartass squirly kids don't really make his radar.

[3ofswords]

"That's a bit long," he says, similarly offering no real reaction. "Guess I'll settle for a hey you if I'm in desperate need of your attention." More for the sake of rampaging badgers coming down the avenue, than what the guy might think.

He lets the wood-stacking go on a bit longer, even tilts his head to give a second look to that deep cut in the tree. Could have been his head. Could have been the end of all of this.

He'd been very much at terms with that, once. Had ten years to stare down the barrel of it. Now he isn't sure what it even means: would they just grow another him, fill it with the same memories of a place that probably doesn't exist, any longer? This is why he can't be left to boredom--too much to think about. "You can unclench," he says, once the wood has been stacked. "I'm just being a shithead; short, sandy, and selectively bi-curious isn't my type."

[righteously]

Of all the things that have come out of Kira's mouth so far, short is what he deems most offensive. It does actually cause him to look up from the stacking, incredulous.

"I'm 6'1"," Is his defensive retort, and the you bitch is implied. The only person that considers him short is god damn Sam Winchester who's made of legos and hate at whopping 12 foot 46. And here he was about to share his name. You're officially dead to him, Kira. RIP.