sixthiteration | Test Drive (December & January)

→ 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 NETWORK 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

SNOW BLIND - It's snowing, a lot, and pristine landscape though it might create, it also brings plenty of problems, especially when you live in an Edwardian-style village with a serious lack of snow shovels. It's currently blizzard conditions and visibility is nil — Maybe you gave in and ducked into the nearest house for temporary shelter, and discover someone else had the same idea (or just lives there, oops). Maybe you're stubborn enough to still be out in it, struggling against the wind and snow. Or maybe you've tromped into the South Village Inn like a human popsicle, and are just hoping you don't lose any fingers before you make it to the fireplace.

JUMPED-UP - Winter's here, which means it's the perfect time for an expedition to warmer, southern climes. You've joined a group following the river all the way down to the far southern beach, for fun and for science. On this latest break in your journey, you've spotted a large, jewel-colored feather and picked it up, maybe as a specimen to bring back or just a feather for your cap. Turns out it's an archaeopteryx feather, and you're now, well... let's call it a little gravity-challenged. Not a bad benefit once you figure out how to control it.

COLD CALL - The snow has slacked off, leaving behind a winter wonderland. Sure, there's plenty to do, but after being cooped up inside for days, most people won't blame you for a morale-booster — That is, unless your way of starting a snowball fight is to pop up and throw them at unsuspecting passers-by. Making a snow man or snow angels might come with a little less retribution, but you do you.

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, 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 in your SUBJECT LINE.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Chloe doesn't move out of the way fast enough and snowball hits her square in the stomach.

"Ow! Lucifer!" She rushes to grab a handful of snow and launches it at him, but the half-formed snowball falls apart before it can do any damage. She can't be too angry, though; she did kind of have it coming, and now she has an excuse for a full-out snowball fight. "You are so gonna pay for that!" Chloe ducks down to gather more snow, this time successful lobbing a real snowball right at him.

"This is police brutality!" he shouts, loud enough that it practically rings off the trees and bounces off snowy surfaces before echoing in his ears, utterly smacked in the face with a snowball that makes him extremely glad that eyeliner has yet to become a feature of his daily wear here.

And yet, it allows him the chance to dart in and tease a handful of snow, close enough to be able to pull her collar back and unleash icy retaliation. He doesn't, though, and it's not Dad's plan or an unwillingness to do so.

No, this is just plain old Lucifer. "Ask me not to," he challenges, once he has utter control.

Struggling to get out of his grasp proves to be hopeless, and Chloe eyes the snow in his hand. She's already freezing, and she knows he's not bluffing. That said, there isn't much of her that is willing to bend to his will.

Chloe's biggest sin is likely her pride, and it's definitely going to win out in this case.

"No way," she tells him, narrowing her eyes. "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Now I'm a terrorist," he gasps, as if this is somehow more offensive to him than the multitude of offending things that have been slung at him over the years. Prince of Lies, Evil Incarnate, all those things are nothing compared to Chloe naming him a terrorist.

"Well, I'd best live up to my accusation, then," he says, and releases the ice down her back, knowing that he's going to endure revenge for this act, but thinking that it's absolutely worth it, all the same. From his smug little grin, it's clear he hasn't thought how badly it could get through, though.

She shrieks as the cold snow runs down her back, the shot of cold giving her the energy to finally pull from his grasp.

"You ass!" Chloe scrambles away from him, grabbing another handful of snow and throwing it blindly towards his smug face. She doesn't even wait for it to land before she's grabbing another handful and launching it at him again.

He cackles. It's really not a graceful thing and if anyone asked, Lucifer would deny it to his hellish throne, but the victorious laugh is less beautiful angel-bell sound and more wicked cackling glee. "Revenge doesn't taste so sweet served cold down your back, does it, Detective?" he taunts, letting out a yelp when her ire is instant.

"That's not fair, you've had training!" he accuses, which is absolutely untrue, but in his mind, firearm proficiency is precisely the same as throwing snowballs.

She narrows her eyes, but she does hold up her hands. She might have better aim, but she also knows Lucifer is incredibly persistent when he wants to be. Annoyingly so, actually. This could go on for hours.

"Okay, okay. Truce, alright? Before we both freeze to death."

It would be a terrible shame if he got so cold that certain parts of his anatomy didn't represent him to the fullest. Still, he's also suspicious that the Detective isn't being entirely honest in her desire for a truce, and he can't even ask his questions to find out.

"Swear on your child's insatiable need for chocolate cake," he insists, not willing to trust her entirely just yet. There could be an icy dagger waiting to stab him in the back, or, more likely, to slither down his spine and nestle between his arse.

She shoots him a glare. "Seriously?"

At least he never lies, although Chloe doesn't quite trust him in this case, either, since he is also pretty good at finding loopholes. Still, she acquiesces.

"Fine, I swear on Trixie's love for chocolate cake." She rolls her eyes dramatically, but it's the only thing she can do without risking another handful of snow down her already freezing back. "We good?"

He raises his brows and widens his eyes to show just how serious he is, because he's not about to relent until he's sure that he's safe from whatever icy terror might befall him next. As soon as she swears, it's like a switch goes off.

Lucifer is all smiles, drops any potential projectiles, and brushes his hands of the icy remnants. "Better than," he agrees cheerfully. "The only thing that could make this any better would be if we could find ourselves a hot nip of something boozy. I do something terribly wicked with brandy and cayenne pepper that has quite the apt name, but it also requires a touch of creme de menthe, which I don't think has been sent along."

Chloe shivers, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she trudges towards him in the snow. It was fun for the first few minutes, but she's remembering why she likes Los Angeles so much.

"I'm down for anything if it will help me be able to feel my fingers again," she admits, moving closer to him if nothing else to block the wind, although still slightly wary that he might pull a fast one and leave her covered in snow again. Granted, she did start all of this, so it wouldn't be undeserved. "I know the lack of top-shelf liquor is cramping your style, but maybe we can track down a fireplace and some moonshine."

Lucifer isn't in possession of another jacket and he feels the cold fiercely here, which means he doesn't offer his jacket, but he does press in close to the detective, wanting to share warmth as much as he can.

"Here," he says, and reaches out for her hands, because he doesn't need a jacket to warm her up. "I can warm your hands, but I am not drinking moonshine," he says, with a cringe and a scoff. He'd say when hell freezes over, but clearly the devil is about to freeze over if he's left out here in the cold much longer. "The fireplace and hot cocoa will have to do," he allows. "Until I can find a proper top shelf."

And yet, he's still rather proud of the humans. You stick them in one of Dad's little hole-in-the-wall traps and they get right to figuring out how to endure using alcohol. It's like a page out of his own playbook.

She lets him take hold of her hands, her gaze breaking away from his momentarily, but it is already helping and she's not exactly looking for a way to weasel out of being close to him, even if it's based completely in necessity at the moment.

"Hot cocoa sounds amazing," she agrees. "I'm not gonna say I'm surprised you'd turn down moonshine, but I also thought if you got stuck in a bathroom you might resort to drinking the mouthwash." She's completely joking, of course; Lucifer might love his alcohol but even she knows there are some standards he won't lower himself from. "Too bad this isn't really the kind of place you can start up another nightclub."

"Detective, please," he replies, honestly disgusted by the very idea that he would sink so low. "Obviously, I would figure out a way to steam it and get high off the contact," he adds, because lest she think that he's grown in some way, he wants to make sure and knock that pedestal down.

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be some need of my favours at one point or another," he guarantees. Lux had been a good front for it, but he doesn't need that. He could do it with a shack, if need be. "And you? I presume when you aren't torturing poor devils, you're out patrolling the mossy streets?"

"Obviously. I was totally thinking that." She wasn't, because it never occurred to her that it would actually be possible. Granted, she constantly underestimates Lucifer's ability to get his hands on any kind of mind-altering substance, be it alcohol or otherwise.

"I don't know if moss is really my style. I actually really haven't given a lot of thought to it yet. I'm a little out of my element here." She's been a cop for so long, she's never really thought about any alternative, especially under such bizarre circumstances.

It's strange to see the detective in any sort of confusion or disconnect from a plan. He's supposed to be the one out there playing it by ear, rolling with the punches, improvising even (to borrow that awkward, uncomfortable hobby from Dan). It shows in the confusion on his face when she says it, because he doesn't see it as possible.

"Really? There's no ne'er-do-wells, no crime?" Surely there must be something exciting happening beyond snowball fights. Then again, if this is dear old Dad's little invention, why wouldn't it be dreadfully boring?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive (December & January)

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