sixthiteration | Test Drive 21 (October & November)

→ 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

STAYING POWER - Go down to the bunker, they said. You can get yourself amazing powers from the vending machine, they said. Well, you've done that, and you've made your choice, but one thing nobody told you was that unless it's a power you're familiar with, you might be on a teensy bit of a learning curve when it comes to keeping it under control. You have a week to figure it out without killing anyone; have fun!

FORGIVE AND... - You poor thing, you've gotten into some dust moths. Not that you can remember that, because depending on how big that swarm was and how quickly you got out of it, you might not remember much at all. Better hope somebody's got some Forget Me Nots on hand.

HIT & RUN - Life in the village can be pretty sleepy... until suddenly, it's not. Were you being a troublemaker? Were you disturbing the local wildlife? Because it's now disturbing you, chasing you down the street in front of everyone. Maybe it's a herd of chupapaca or a swarm of fireflies. Or maybe you went old school and it's just a really pissed off badger. Godspeed and good luck.

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
- 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 in your SUBJECT LINE.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"Okay Roberto," he drawls, smirking at him because he knows he can keep doing this. He can come up with a lot if he puts his mind to it.

He gives him a look though, considering, but what he thinks he isn't sure he can say it. Say that he probably knows Vasquez better than he knows anyone, which isn't saying a lot about how distant he has kept himself from everyone else around him. Until he came to a clearing by the water and saw Vasquez.

Then he goes and says his name like that and fuck there's just something about it in that accent that just leaves him unable to even draw a breath. Biting at his lower lip, staring at Vasquez for the longest time, trying to think of what to even say. Not sure he can say anything.

"No one ever..." He stops, shaking his head a bit. "I don't care if you call me that." Him. He doesn't care if he called him that.

Hawke flailed at his hand when he touched the leaf, not really hitting at him, shushing him off. She could take the leaf out of her own mouth, thank you very much, Lord Jumps From Trees. She rolls, much more gracefully than most people would, right into a comfortable crouched position and then to a stand. Things ache, things hurt, but it wasn't her first rodeo getting slammed by the body of another. It was her least favorite version of that, actually.

"Attempt to catch you? I don't know what moment you were in, but I succeeded in bloody catching you!" This probably was not the right way to talk to someone who she only assumed a moment ago was suicidal and jumping from a tall peak for a reason. Anyone else might be talking softly or asking what the matter was, but Hawke huffed, blowing hair out of her eyes. She gave him a quick once over, he didn't seem unstable.

"Listen, I know this place can be a lot, but throwing yourself from a tree is hardly the right choice." There, an attempt was made to get through to him. "At the very least you might want to stab yourself in the heart instead, very quick. Oh, or hanging," she snapped her fingers, "no, no, terrible idea, always the risk of doing it wrong." Hawke paused, narrowing her eyes. "Wait, were we talking about?"

Altaïr... stared.

Admittedly, it wasn't from the best position, still seated on the ground, surrounded by leaves, but he looked up at her where she stood with a degree of disbelief - and more than a degree of confusion.

But then, after a shake of his head, he drew up his knee to rest his arm upon it, gaze as level as it could be from where he sat. "You did not catch me as much as you placed yourself below my landing. I would not have jumped if I were uncertain of my ability to walk away in the end. But this place is new to me, and I am still growing used to the fact that none here are so used to what is normal."

He pulled his legs beneath him and stood, once more wishing for his robes and hood, or at least a ghutrah and iqal. Going bareheaded still sat ill with him. But once he stood and brushed the leaves from his clothing, he gave her a polite bow. "Still. I am grateful for your good intentions, and I apologise for the injuries my landing may have caused."

Hawke's scattered, although she would call it remarkably adaptable and untethered by tight control. She has a tendency to let her mouth wander. He seems fit and capable, and it started to dawn on her he might not have done it for the reasons she thought. Her eyes narrow, and she crosses arms against her chest. "Listen, maybe you can do that where you're from, but around here? What used to work doesn't always anymore. Or so I've heard. I've always been basic at best." Well trained, a killing machine, but nothing special otherwise. Her sister had all the power.

Oh, he's bowing. Oh, he's one of those polite types. Hawke came from a noble bloodline, so she vaguely knew the proper way to do things, but it's been so long since she attempted to remember that. She doesn't wear skirts, so she bows back, with perhaps a little bit of a flourish of her hand with it. For fun. She is, however, more than a bit uncomfortable when people notice when she does good things. It's a bizarre twist of fate, to do good things and hate when it's acknowledged. So she waves a hand airily.

"Anyone would've done it." She knew so many people who would not do it, but she wasn't going to add that. After a pause she offers her hand, calloused and strong from years of fighting each day to survive. "I'm Hawke." A smile started to peek through.

"Hawk," he repeated, and the corner of his lip twitched for all he looked at her hand, and then clasped her arm. Perhaps it wasn't the correct gesture where she came from, but to him, a touch to the hand was more intimate than this would allow for. "I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. In my language, my name means 'Eagle.' And do not worry about my losing that ability. It comes from years of training. What I have lost was... different."

The state of her hand, however, was not lost on him. It wasn't often that women were fighters. True that his mother was, or so he had heard, but he had never met her or seen her fight. He had only heard of his father's deeds, and seen some few of them. Female assassins were more than rare.

She also bowed in a way that was more English than Saracen, as if her swearing would have allowed for either. Yet her accent reminded him of King Richard's men. Hm.

Vasquez doesn't argue that name, because maybe if he stops, then Faraday will shut up. He doesn't want Faraday to take that as permission to keep name-calling, though, and if he starts being serious about it, then he knows he'll have to give up his real name. As for right now, he'll leave it be.

Are they even moving still? He feels like they've ground to a halt, with Faraday staring at him, Vasquez heatedly staring back. He wants to say it again and again, which is why he's relieved when Faraday says he doesn't care if he says it.

"Good," he says pleasantly, hand on Faraday's back between his shoulders to get him moving again, to the inn. "Joshua is a better name than Faraday. Then again, so is guerito."

The sad part is, in that Faraday is a child. Without it getting a rise, it's not nearly as fun. Especially in case there's a chance he won't hear his name like that again.

Though he can't help but to make a face, knowing that forward process had ended somewhere between teasing and knowing he's flirting, but not having a damn clue if that's just him or it's mutual. Most of his companionship came with a price, and this one he isn't sure is part of friendship, or he's mistaking a lot in that pained look while he bared his physical scars.

So he let that hand guide him, not walking too fast though. Just so that maybe it lingers a minute or two.

"Only you get away with calling me either," he says, mostly a grumbling sound. "Joshua's a kid on a farm, which ain't me anymore." His past is that. A future wherein someone that never knew that boy called him that? Maybe that he can handle. Maybe it's just that it's Vasquez and he doesn't want to discourage him, even if he taunts him in ways that could ruin a lot.

"Everyone says you have to stay here, between the two villages. That true?" Because he trusts that Vasquez has tested that and will know.

The arm wasn't that big of a startle, she'd come across enough other races with their own sort of thing. Hawke returned the gesture easily enough. "Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, now that's a mouthful and a half." The man was very capable though, and she liked capable people. Even if she was still pretty certain he shouldn't be jumping off of trees. She did suddenly laugh and clapped her hands. "The Eagle and the Hawke. Only one of us seems to think he can fly, and the other one is very aware that she cannot." Her tone was light and playful. She generally liked people, until they gave her reason not to.

She couldn't place his accent, and she was fairly good at accents of all kind. Kirkwall got all sorts. But since coming here she'd been more aware of the fact that Ferelden, Kirkwall, the Free Marches, they were long behind her. For good or for ill. "Right, well, technically my first name is Marian, but only my family call me that, and they're mostly all dead, so no one really does." Hawke preferred it that way. She didn't want to hear the name Marian and think of her mother's corpse. It brought down the mood.

"Wait, how'd you get up in the tree? That's a long way."

She could, he thought. Fly. With enough training. Enough trust. Anyone could. And why would this fighter not try? But he mentally censured himself. Now wasn't the time to think of such things. He was here for a reason. To learn. To experience. To take in what was shown him. And with her question, he saw the chance to share some of what he'd been shown.

"There is a place some distance from here." A glance to the sky to check the angle of the sun and he pointed. "In that direction. There is a thing there called a vending machine. It has a list on it of abilities. One of them was my own when it was taken from me, but if I'm to experience something, it should be something new."

And then, in light - vibrantly light, almost amber or yellow - eyes, there was a spark of wonder before he could calm it to his usual way. "Watch," he said, and then he was, with hands and toes, climbing the tree at a near sprint without using branches. He was sticking to the side without holding on, and once he was a significant distance up, he shifted so his arm was around the trunk, his foot braced against it, while the others hung free. "It's a wonder!"

C-c-c-COMBO! Hit & Run/Forgive and...

Have you been hit by dust moths recently? And cured or not, had no clue as to where and how it happened?

Well now.

See: Loki of Asgard. Trickster god and professional troublemaker; occasional rake, frequent rascal, continuous cause in the chain of cause-and-effect. See him run, wide-eyed, but definitely not panicking, thankyouverymuch, right down the main drag, the dust moths fluttering in his wake not at all obscured by the dust kicked up by his passage.

If asked, he would say that none of this is his fault. It would be a lie, of course, but he would still insist. Maybe he has no idea what he did; there is a faint dusting clinging to the ends of his hair. Maybe he really thinks that it actually isn't his fault; there is, after all, a first time for everything.

This isn't the first time he's grabbed the hand of a bystander and shouted "RUN!!" but it happens so seldom that it almost might as well be.

Text UN: Loki of Asgard

Hey who wants to go on an adventure of taste with me?? :))))

Edited (icon) 2018-10-20 01:09 (UTC)

"I think it's something else completely," Vasquez argues, seeing as he's very fond of using that name for him, his eyes sliding over Faraday and thinking of moaning that name, having that man on top of him, pushing into him, pinning him down.

It's enough to make the tips of his ears go red and embarrassed, though he doesn't want to give his hand. Then again, he's not so good at bluffing, so maybe he's already in deep shit. "I tried to head out to the water, but it's like an ocean. Then there's mountains and a bunker. The way in, there's no way out," he says, because the tubes don't seem to put anyone back.

Nodding to the inn, he gives Faraday a destination. "There, I've been staying there, though in the winter, I think maybe I move in with someone else."

Hello, smol person. Here is a tol person.

"Hope you don't mind being carried!" And now he's scooping her up, and taking off with his nice long legs, and quickly putting ground between them and... Well, whatever. Running away is a perfectly sound strategy, no matter how small, tall, squishy, or not, one happens to be.

"Hello, I'm Loki of Asgard. Why are we running?"

Mostly, we help ourselves. Some people share. How special?

I tend to have a pretty big appetite.

He glances at Vasquez. "It's only completely different here," he says, which is as close as he can come to saying it is different with him. But it's the same difference. Especially in his mind.

Something's off, and Faraday knows it. He just doesn't know what. Maybe it's this place. Or it's definitely what happened to him that he doesn't want to know about. Something is different though, and he's worried it's going to screw up whatever the hell it is that he and Vasquez shared. Closest thing to caring about someone and having them around, and wanting that.

"How is there no way out? Mountains? I mean, with a boat we could, right?" He doesn't like how that sounds, even if he isn't sure he cares. For now. Eventually though... He will feel the need to roam.

"Someone else, huh?" Man, he doesn't like the sound of that, expression turning sour. So much for those thoughts. "This someone senorita have a name?"

She can practically see the wheels in his head turning, and she frowns in disapproval as he acts his usual stubborn self. "Oh, it's terribly fucked up," she reassures him, reaching over to push her dainty hands against his bulking chest. He doesn't budge, of course, but the playful gesture makes the moment feel lighter anyway.

"But I suppose I can't blame you. You're lost without me, I wager."

It's insanely egotistical of her to say, but that's the point. To lessen the burden of whatever is on his mind by acting like a fool. It worked for the Doctor time and time again, and it can work for Frank too. Men that are burdened with the weight of the world need the distraction.

"The Doctor told me once that every lonely monster needs a companion. Lucky for you, I'm good at being a carer."

Well. She can't say she minds this in the slightest. Oh, she's taken by surprise. But it's a pleasant surprise, one that makes her laugh even as she bounces about while he runs. Her eyes are wide as she tips her head to look up at him, trying to press her hand against his chest to balance herself out.

"I'm Clara of -" She pauses, trying to figure out a good answer to that. "Well, here and there, really. I'm a bit of a traveler. And - "

There's another pause as she glances back over his shoulder to see if they're still being chased. Indeed they are, and she taps his shoulder like he's a horse that needs to be hit on the flank.

"You happened to swoop in the middle of an aggressive animal situation."

You and me both, pal. How do u feel about hunting&trapping?

"Pleased to meet you, Clara of Here-and-There." Loki's eyes sparkle as he speaks, matching his grin. "Can these aggressive animals climb or fly, do you know? Because if not, 'up' is an option for us."

He takes a corner, and stretches his strides a little, trusting her to keep an eye on their backs, for now.

"Up! Definitely go up!"

The honest truth is that the animal chasing them probably won't do much more than knock them over and trample them some. But Clara can't be sure that's the case. Everything about this place is topsy turvy and strange, and she isn't about humiliating herself in front of a new community. She needs them to respect her, after all. But for now, she's more focused on seeing just how up is an option here.

"Up it is," Loki replies. "Hold on." That's all the warning he gives her, before he shifts her to his shoulders, and starts climbing up a tree.

It's.

Not as easy as he makes it look.

But he does go to the effort to make it look easy; she's a pretty girl, after all.

She's suitably impressed at least. Up until she manages to be scraped up against the tree as he climbs. It's an accident and she doesn't hold it against him, but she still huffs a little as he keeps going.

"I was expecting some sort of magical jumping powers, to be honest. I've got to say this is comically refreshing. Also -"

She starts to squirm a little.

"Think I can climb the rest of the way myself. I've got short legs maybe, but I'm not completely hopeless."

"All right," he agrees. "Grab that branch; it looks sturdy." He braces himself against the trunk, and another branch, and risks a glance down.

"I didn't jump because I didn't want to risk hitting your head. Or my head." Or... No, he just didn't think this through. But he's cool, she's cool, everyone's cool, right? Right.

"A vending what?" It sounded like vendor, which probably meant merchant, and she knew what machines were, in the sense of what they were used for. So a merchant machine? Take out the person element, keep it cold, not a bad system really. Hawke glanced in the direction he pointed and made mental note of it. By the time she looked back he was moving, and she watched him curiously. When he showed off the power in question, her eyes widened, and then she laughed out loud in delight.

"That's amazing!" Hawke moved underneath him, not to catch him this time, no thanks, but just to get a better angle. "I wish I had one of those vending whatevers where I'm from, do you know how much time I could have saved climbing on a wall or a ceiling instead of trying to sneak up behind someone?" She was trained for stealth or long distance fighting, and while she was rather good at it, if her track record said anything, she still would always pick the easy route if she could. Stabby stabby and then the pub. Oh those were the days.

No sense dwelling though. She put a finger against her nose and then pointed at him, getting an idea. "Did you see if flying was possible? Cause if so I am going to lose my mind." It was one step closer to being the dragon she was always meant to be.

"I didn't see flying among the list--"

But then he was using his own inborne skills to leap from branch to branch, jumping from a lower one for her sake, and rolling as he hit the ground. "But if you need lessons on climbing, those I can give. Those of my Order are master climbers."

He didn't mention why. There were some things people didn't need to know. Some things that were best left unsaid. He knew many here were fighters, but how many were killers like him? There was a difference in killing someone in self defense and acting as they had - treating people as pawns.

Worst was that he couldn't regret it, even with all that had happened.

"This tree would not have been a challenge, even without this power, until the branches began to be too sparse." That was safer to say.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 11 of 39

Test Drive 21 (October & November)

no subject

Me too, I couldn't resist.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Loki | Marvel 616

no subject

Hit & Run

Text

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject