sixthiteration | Test Drive 18

→ 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!

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.

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!

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!

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.

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If given a choice, Sam would have chosen to just go back to chopping veggetables in the kitchen. Hell, he'd take FEEDING the animals over this. Sam isn't sure what about him says 'I can milk this thing' but apparently someone saw it on him and decided, sure, let's have this guy do the milking today.

"This is because of that damn goat, isn't it," he mutters, thinking back to the goat he had left in that jail cell all those months ago. Actually, according to conversations, it might be more like a year.

Sam sighs, dropping the bucket onto the grass. He vaguely remembers how to do this -- again thanks to the goat -- but he's never seen a creature quite like this before so he's not sure how similar they may actually be. From this perspective about the only thing they have in common is that they are hairy, smelly, have hooves, and produce milk apparently. Which probably means they might be as ornery as a goat and Sam figures he should probably put the creature at ease first before reaching anywhere that might alarm it.

"All right, not sure if they gave you a name but for the sake of simplicity I'm going to call you Lady. This is weird for me, but I hope you plan on being cooperative about this," he says as he approaches the creature. It paws at the ground, but otherwise doesn't move. Sam extends a hand and when it seems the creature will remain calm, he starts rubbing her snout. "There, see? Not so bad."

He's not sure what good thing he's done to earn this karma, but god bless whatever it was. If Sam didn't want an audience it's a little too late to make that clear, because Bucky was conveniently in the vicinity and now he's got one. From somewhere to Sam's right there's a long, low scraping sound. Should he glance over he'll see Bucky very deliberately, very loudly pulling a chair across the nearest porch right up to the edge closest to Sam.

He sits himself right down and settles in, because this ought to be good. He's got a carrot in one hand, which he takes a big ol' snapping bite out of and loudly chews once he's settled.

Don't mind him. Just here to observe.

Sam doesn't pick up on the audience until he hears the sound of a chair being dragged across the nearby porch. He glances out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to take too much attention away from the animal before him, and resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. Of all the people also stuck in this place that could possibly be nearby it has to be Barnes. But you know what? Sam's not going to let that bother him. Nope. You just go ahead and watch.

At that moment, while Sam is not being huffy, the recently dubbed 'Lady' decides to remind him what he's supposed to be doing. The groffle snorts and butts her snout against Sam's arm. It's a reminder that he needs to get to work. Sam recalls hearing somewhere that cows need to be milked regularly, otherwise it becomes painful. He wonders if that's the same thing with these creatures.

"All right, all right. Let's get this over with," he says to Lady, pointedly ignoring his audience. Sam snatches the bucket back up and takes it around to the side, deciding to put the groffle between himself and the spectator. He's also been supplied with a stool to use and gets himself settled, gently patting the Lady's side as he takes some time to figure out how this works. It really can't be that complicated can it?

There is a decidedly obvious quirk to his eyebrow and tilt to his mouth that begins the second the groffle butts her snout against Sam. He's a city guy himself, he's pretty sure Sam is too, so watching an ill-equipped guy try and milk something is about as novel as it gets. He chews with his mouth open, just because he wants to make it crystal clear he's still there, still just hanging out in the background, drawing the faintest amount of attention to the fact that Sam has an audience.

Because he's a dick. And because it's funny. And because you wouldn't even scoot your seat up that one time.

He watches Sam struggle for a second, then chimes in dry and helpful, "I think you're supposed to pull 'em."

The key word there being one time. Honestly, it was in retaliation for a lot of stuff he did in the first place. Not to mention could Steve NOT have picked a bigger car for them to take? But, as Sam has discovered or come to accept, he and Bucky are going to be forever at odds with one another. Oh, sure, they can cooperate in a fight or to support Steve, but it doesn't seem that their personal relationship has gotten any better here than it was prior to Bucky being taken to Wakanda.

Sam does not miss this, but at the same time it's familiar and Sam can take a little familiar at the moment.

"So did the scientists in Wakanda remove your manners too? Cause I can hear you smacking all the way over here," Sam calls. He doesn't see Bucky over here milking a groffle, so he isn't going to comment on the advice to pull. He's pretty sure Bucky knows about as much about milking as Sam does. He just better calm down or he might pull harder than intended. Sam takes a breath and returns his attention to the task at hand. He reaches towards the udders, slipping his hand around the nearest one and making sure the bucket is positioned correctly. The first pull is too soft and produces nothing. He adds a bit more of a squeeze to his grip and this time milk squirts into the bucket.

"Yes!" It isn't quite shouted, but there is definitely some pep there. He knows better than to frighten Lady at this moment, so close to her backside and all. He peers into the bucket and frowns slightly, "I really hope your milk is supposed to be that color."

"No, that was the Nazis," is his deadpan reply around a mouth full of carrot. Truth be told his mother would have slapped him upside the back of the head for this behavior, but it's the principal of the matter. Respect your veterans, he fought for your freedom in dubya-dubya-2.

Despite the frenemy rivalry between them, he is a little pleased on Sam's behalf that he actually gets things working. Maybe it's because he can empathize with the excitement of success. Either way, he rises from the chair and ambles over to inspect the bucket over Sam's shoulder.

Lips turn down in distaste. "...You seriously plan on drinking that?"

It's not that Peggy is an emotional person, but every time she sees Sam, it's hard to stop the welling of nostalgia and warmth. Of course, there is also the uncomfortable topic that she's yet to tell him what happened to Berg because of her, but lying is unfortunately something she's extremely good at.

Maybe he'll adopt a new pet and forget all about the old one? She doesn't really want to get into worrying about that, instead lurking and watching. It's strange to bask in something so familiar while not entirely knowing if she wants to allow herself to feel it (too worried about him vanishing again), but perhaps she's just a little too weak to deny herself this.

"I think you have a compulsion to name everything you see," she observes, shaking her head. "I dread to think what you might have been naming other things in your head."

If Berg was gone, it was probably for a reason. Sam hadn't thought much of the goat until now, but he wonders if Peggy even realizes why he gave the goat that name to begin with. For Sam it's been so long, but he does remember something along the lines of the '-erg' standing for Emergency Ration Goat. For the life of him he can't remember what the 'B' stood for, but that seems like a really unimportant detail to try and recall now. Billy maybe? Billy the Goat sounds about right.

Besides, there's that strange sense of guilt -- he remembers the numerous times he and Peggy had gone through people leaving and returning only to leave again. It had never been anyone's fault, but somehow he still feels a twinge of guilt that now he was in the category of 'abandoning' his friends. But, he couldn't think of it that way. Just as he had arrived here without warning (both times now) he had been taken back without warning as well. They had as much control over that as anything else around here and Sam, well, Sam just had to accept that.

"Well it's insulting to just keep calling it 'Not a Buffalo' or 'Cow Thing' now, isn't it?" Sam asks, trying not to sound too defensive about it. He shrugs, continuing to stroke the beast so it's more familiar with him before getting to work. He tilts his head to Peggy, "Besides, it's not like I name everything, that would just be silly." Granted, some might say naming your robot drone bird was silly, but Sam would have some words about that as well. But if a creature (or drone) is going to be helping him out in some way, it does deserve a name in his opinion.

"I don't know, mentally I just call it a 'cow thing' because naming it seems rather permanent," Peggy admits, seeing as she's hardly the sort of woman who's swanning about town learning about the animals and calling them names. That's a life that she can't even imagine and she'd have to be a whole other version of herself to even imagine it.

Still, Sam seems rather good at it, so at least he's doing the work for the both of them. "Not everything?" she teases. "I'm sure whatever you don't name is feeling left out right now."

He understood that perspective. If these animals were possibly going to be eaten in the future (aside from used for milk) a more sentimental person might have qualms about naming them. Sam might even be that kind of person if he were anywhere else. But, he feels even worse NOT giving them a name. He understands he can't get too attached either and that (at least he hopes) this isn't permanent. It's a weird place to be in, but Sam accepts it as it is and honestly it's a little worrisome that he can fall back into the 'one day at a time' mindset of living.

"Not sure inanimate objects can feel left out," he says. He picks up the pail again and moves to where someone had helpfully already set out a stool for whatever poor sap (aka Sam Wilson) got voluntold to milk. He adjusts it, pretending for a moment he knows what he is doing, before reaching up and patting Lady's side reassuringly. "So are you here to help or just watch?"

She gives him an amused look and continues to linger, though she does at least wander a bit closer so she's not just looking over his shoulder. "Watching sounds perfectly pleasant," she says, as though she hadn't even thought of it until he'd suggested it, but she drags another stool around so that she's at least not lurking at his shoulder.

Watching is fine, but she doesn't want to give the impression that she's only there to supervise. "Actually, neither," she admits, seeing as it's best to tell the truth. "I'd much rather talk to you."

To be fair, he's not sure how someone would help aside from give instruction or take over if the other was incompetent. Sam has yet to demonstrate if he is terrible at this or not, so really the only option is to watch. Although he does appreciate that she isn't going to hover while doing so. Everyone knows that is obnoxious and Peggy Carter is a lot of things...obnoxious is not one of them.

It's even more reassuring when she says she wants to talk. Well, partially reassuring. While he's of course curious about what he's missed and what has happened since he was last here, there is a part of him that knows he will feel bad for everything he wasn't here to help with. But God if he hadn't missed talking with her. She'd become such a good friend to him, a confidant, and he now he really needed to make up for some lost time it seems.

"Sure, we can talk. Maybe that will help keep Lady here calm too," he says. He sets the pail beneath the udders and decides he might as well get started now. No sense putting off the inevitable and if he finds out he's bad at it at least then they can go off and find someone else to do this.

"I'm not so sure that any topic that's brought up is meant to keep anyone calm," Peggy notes ruefully out loud, because it's the truth. So much has happened and she doesn't even know where to begin. Perhaps that's why she decides that since she's having so much trouble deciding, they ought to talk about anything but what's been happening to her.

"What happened when you went home? Did you realize it? How did it happen?" Her questions are anything but calm as she directs them, blunt and fast, at Sam, wanting as much information as she can get.

Beneath it all, one question lurks -- was it a choice?

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Test Drive 18

Sam Wilson | MCU - 1

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