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TDM: July
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aefenglom's test drive! All threads can be considered game canon, should you choose to do so; regardless of if you pick specific threads to remain canon to the game, the prompts and test drive itself will be. This will be touched on later in-game, so it's fairly important to note! Aside from that, here are some quick reminders:• Reserves Open Today! If you're interested in securing a spot, put one in! We accept applications without reserves too, of course. Reserves will expire three days before the end of the application period, on the 28th.With that taken care of...
• Applications Open The 24th! These will last until the end of the month, the 31st, with the intro log going on up the 1st. The application page can be found here.
• If you have any questions about the game or the world, please refer to the FAQ page; if you still have questions, feel free to ask them! For questions specific to the test drive, please ask them on the appropriate thread.
• For the purposes of the test drive, your character will have access to all magics taught by the Coven if they're a Witch, and as much of their shifted form as you'd like if they're a Monster. Feel free to play around and experiment with each!
• Test drive threads can be used as samples for your applications!
You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the wind brushes playfully against your face -
and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that.
The Living Forest
It feels warmer than it should be. Hot, dry, dark. The sky above all but black- save for the ominous orange glow against the distant horizon. In the gloaming there’s a resonant smell of decay; of musty pine and sun-baked wood and, more worryingly, the distant scent of smoke, of ash. There’s no wind to speak of, and yet… something whispers. The shiver of leaves, the crack of dry branches- and if you listen long enough, almost… the sound of voices in the trees.
 Controlled Burn The forest you find yourself in is still alive- for now. Ash filters through the browning leaves like snow, dotting the path you’ve found yourself on in bone white fragments. Following the rustling leads it to grow all the more frantic, whispered voices speaking without words- or perhaps you simply cannot understand. You feel as though you’re being watched, the tree clusters growing thicker, tighter and- is it just your imagination, or… are they moving? Suddenly before you an old oak splits with a thunderous crack- followed by a deafening scream. Gnarled, blackened hands reach from within the tree, scraping at your clothes, agony wrought through every striation of her features as the infection spreads. Before you, the tree withers as the nymph falls into the dirt, long fingers tearing up the earth as she crawls towards you. Understanding comes to you in stark clarity: the noises through the trees are a cry for help. Before your very eyes the leaves of her once lush hair dries; cracks and breaks away, falling to join the ashen forest floor. With pleading eyes she gazes at you, before her eyes roll back, and she collapses, utterly still. And she’s not the only one; the forest is alive, the very trees reaching for you, roots clawing up to crack open the earth itself in their desperation. Don’t let them touch you, though. The infection spreads quickly. Branching through your veins and leaving your limbs sluggish, heavy, and brittle. The feeling is utterly agonizing, reminiscent of having poured molten lava into your blood. The longer the infection is left untreated, the more, and faster it spreads, the worse the pain becomes. The trees know, they whisper the truth: the only way to cleanse yourself is through the fire. |
 Creeping Fire Not all nymphs have met such a terrible fate. Not yet, at least. Some huddle together, their branching arms clinging to one another as they softly weep. Others walk willingly towards the distant orange glow with grim determination. Still others implore you with wide, fearful eyes to do something- anything to help them. Surely these new abilities you’ve found yourself with must be good for something. They lead you to a natural amphitheatre; the slow sloping blackened earth sinking into a gully bordered by a high rock wall. The heat is the most bearable here; the area cooled by the towering stone. Wilting nymphs huddle together along with sympathetic faun. Those who have skills in manipulating water are a welcome relief; these tree spirits are desperate for it. But this temporary refuge won’t last for long. The infection wants to spread. Like rabies, maddening its’ hosts and raising their aggression. And where better to draw from than the root of this sanctuary? Where the stone wall rises and provides shelter from the fire, so too does it trap these refugees in… Defend against the infected, before all hope is lost. |
 Staging Area Past the disease, the horror and cries for help, there is a genuinely quiet place. It isn’t much, compared to how things used to be, but there’s a clearing scarred at the edges with scorch marks instead of Cwyld, with the beginnings of plants sprouting once more. Baby grass clusters in small groups, small stems pushing out of the ashen ground with hopeful buds. Some earlier bloomers already casting vibrant colors to what was once a meadow. It’s serene, it’s peaceful, it’s an area that’s been cleansed by fire and Cwyld kept at bay by Witches at least a century out of fashion, though they don’t seem to respond to outside presences with how focused they are. Those taking breaks from their turn on the edge offer greetings and air worries about the spreading taking root in the forest, but (like the Fae in the first dream, for those who recall) don’t say much else unique, wondering if they’ll be able to return home anytime soon and if this was truly worth the effort. Of course it is, an older one might snap back. In a war of attrition, all efforts are worthy. However, this isn’t the only camp they’ve set up. There’s one not too far off that begins with frost and ends in a frozen area of land, sound muffled by cold and everything from the trees to nymphs so iced not even a dragon’s flame could melt it. Inquiries about this area result in some sheepish looks, and the answer of how some Witches became a little excited at the idea of putting surviving nymphs and the rest of the flora into a form of dormancy and overdid it, a bit. |
Makoto Yuuki // Persona 3 FES // Vampire
[Makoto blinks. A forest, burning. He remembers a glint, and reaching out to it, although he knows that would have been impossible. And yet he remembers doing it, and here he is. Standing in a burning forest, alive.
The sudden attack by a nymph is enough to force him into action, despite his confusion. It claws at his sleeve and he jerks his arm away with more strength than he's ever had in the past. Makoto watches silently as it screeches miserably and crumbles to ash, too confused to show any sympathy on his face.
What is going on? Is this some sort of dream? He hadn't dreamed before now. It could be the Velvet Room, or something like it, but considering the state of affairs here, he really hopes not.
With no other options, he begins to navigate through the burning woods, stepping around impassable flames and anything that looks like it could be moving. That's when he notices something else very strange: the smoke is hardly bothering his lungs at all.
Welp. May as well try to find out whatever's going on.]
𝕀𝕀. 𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖉
[The nymphs, as pitiful as they are, aren't so hard to fight off. But as Makoto is batting another away from him with his yet-unexplained strength, he learns that he may have underestimated their intelligence: with his attention elsewhere, a second nymph beside him rakes its wooden nails against his right hand.
He lets out an involuntary cry of pain and shoves the nymph away, splintering its body across the ground around him. Did it attack him? No, none of them are attacking. They're terrifying to look at, but they're crying in pain, and just seeking help. But maybe he can understand why. His hand is starting to feel stiff and heavy. A numb prickle travels down his fingers and leaves an ache in its path.
This can't be good. he thinks to himself, although he does not feel particularly worried about how this is going to play out. As real as it feels, it's got to be a dream, right? If it's a lucid dream, then maybe...]
Is anyone here? [He yells as loud as he can over the roaring of the fire. Maybe Elizabeth would appear at any moment. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for her.]
𝕀𝕀𝕀. 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖓𝖞 𝖉𝖆𝖞
[After much time spent dealing with the nymphs and the pain and the fire, Makoto followed a strange scent that he could pick out over the smoke. It lead him to the witch's quiet place. He would normally be happy to see the fresh sprouts and grass and flowers, but as he approaches it, a new pain starts to creep over his face and hands. The smoke is no longer blocking out the sun, and now he feels like his skin is burning, not unlike pushing down on a horrible sun burn, except of course that he isn't sunburned and nothing is pushing on him.
It's becoming unbearable, so he hurriedly shuffles into the shade of a tree and drapes his slightly battered uniform jacket over his head, keeping his hands tucked under the extra shade.
A moment passes. He does not look happy. He glances around at the few people in his vicinity. What is going on, and where is he?! If this isn't a dream, it's a very bad sign for him to be here at all, much less be here for so long already.]
𝕀𝕍. 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉
[Tag him under any TDM scenario! I base his personality on the movies, but his canon is still the game. Canon point is post-game. Smut is OK for characters 16 or older. Plurk me if you wanna ask anything!
I have no good icons, sobs (III)
Fuuka reached the clearing before him, hunched over and fighting to catch her breath under the shade of tree. Her lungs burned, not from the smoke (weirdly enough, that didn't bother her), but from sprinting through the burning woods. She was useless here, even if she had her Persona to rely on, but the pressing need to help still gripped tightly and refused to let go.
But no one here wanted to do anything to quell the flames, no matter how much she pleaded. There wasn't anything they could do, and it wasn't their problem. And she wasn't the type to make demands... Maybe she could go back out there...
Seeing a shadow cast over her, Fuuka looks up quickly, her hands still cupped over her knees. ]
Oh, sorry, am I in your way—
[ It takes a few seconds for her to register who she's seeing. Her words trail off as she stares up at Makoto, her eyes wide in disbelief. She looks like she's seen a ghost; as far as she's concerned, she has. ]
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...]
Yamagishi? [It's almost enough to make him forget about the sun. In this moment, he's more sure than ever that this isn't a dream. And that's bad.
Wherever or whatever this place is, it's someplace for the dead. That, or he's alive again, and he has no idea how that could be possible - or what was keeping Nyx at bay, if he's here instead. Although, on second thought, that could be true if this is some sort of purgatory or afterlife, too.
So... either Fuuka is dead, or something very weird and very disastrous is happening, or both.
Not knowing what else to say, he risks sticking a hand out from under his coat to offer to help her up.]
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Is that really you..?
[ Emotions thick her voice, doubt creeps in as she slowly takes his hand. She doesn't need help physically, but she feels weak for entirely different reasons.
Pulling herself up with his help, her dark eyes search his, flickering between them as she tries desperately to pull the pieces together. She keeps hold of his hand like it's the only thing anchoring her to this reality. ]
H-how are you here? I thought...
[ Focus, Fuuka. A beat; ]
Makoto-kun, what's going on?
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I have no idea. [He breaks eye contact with her for a second to glance around the flowery clearing again.] Are any of the others here, too?
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I'm not sure. I tried to find them, but I can't sense them at all. It's like something is getting in the way. [ Another heavy pause. ] I can't summon Juno here, either.
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Makoto considers her words for a moment and realizes she's right - he doesn't sense a single Persona inside of him right now. If any are still there, they're as out of reach to him as they are outside the midnight hour.]
I can't summon a Persona either. But, don't worry. I think it's clear this isn't the Midnight Hour.
[Not that it explains why he can't even sense any of his Personas, but he's trying to offer her some comforting words.]
Are you hurt?
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But he's right. This isn't the Midnight Hour, and as far as she can tell, they aren't in the Abyss of Time—but where does that leave them? ]
I'm fine. [ Overly quick, blurted reaction notwithstanding. ] What about you? Are you feeling all right?
[ The last time she saw him, he was... Significantly less mobile. ]
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[He glances away. How should he answer that? The subtext behind the question hangs in the air like thick humidity.]
Sort of. [He nods his head up at his jacket above his head.] For some reason, the sun here is really bothering me. You don't feel like you're burning up right now?
[He'll leave his death and its related topics aside for now.]
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Blinking a few times in confusion, Fuuka shields her eyes before looking up at the sky. ]
It's a little bright, but...
[ She trails off as she does a mental double take. Letting out a quiet gasp, she points up towards the sky, her eyes wide in disbelief. ]
Makoto-kun, look.
[ A pair of twin moons float in the sea of smoky blue overhead. Sorry, Makoto, but your weird sunburn is the least of their concerns right now. ]
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...two...? [He looks to Fuuka, worried.] Where are we?
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discoinferno.mp3 (faun!shinji)
He'd gotten used to that subconscious flare of panic any time he smelled something burning, been able to temper it down in the last ten years since the orphanage fire. But now, something in his mind is screaming at the idea of everything in this forest burning around him. But over the smoke and the screams and the twig-like limbs grasping at the hem of his coat, here's a familiar voice calling. And damn it, if their leader got himself killed, he's gonna have to give him a piece of his mind.
Another desperate nymph grasps his arm as he moves towards the sound of Makoto's voice, and in an immediate reaction he draws his arm in and headbutts the creature away. Man, these things are tragic, but also annoying.]
Yeah, I'm comin'-- [It's called out hoarsely into the foggy smoke burning at his eyes and throat, though it's only a few more seconds before Shinjiro is close enough to make out the silhouette of the other teen through the hazy fog of smoke. And that's enough to get him to scowl at Makoto as he approaches, trying to contain a cough building in his throat from the grimy air.]
But what the hell're you doing here?
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Over here! [He yells as the figure gets closer and closer. But then they're close enough for Makoto to see their face, and...
Makoto stares, his mouth agape. Well. Guess that pretty much confirms that this is the afterlife or something.]
Shinjiro? [pause.] Are we in hell?
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Man, you would ask that.
[And here he'd been hoping that death would just be that. The end, no more, not having to deal with anything. But instead here he is, in a burning forest. (And if he were more well-read in western literature, maybe it would be evocative of the forest of suicides from Dante's tellings. But he isn't, so it won't be.) Rather than give Makoto any true answer to his question, he finally coughs from the aggravating smoke, one wrist coming up to conceal it, and his eyes narrow into the odd stance the other man has.]
What happen'd to you? And can you walk enough for us to get outta here?
[There's a nagging pain to the idea of leaving the woods in such a state, one he can't identify or find any reason for-- but for real, they'll die if they keep hanging around a blazing forest.]
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...Yeah. [He presses his lips together and swallows down the pain.] Let's go.
[He proceeds ahead, stepping around a burning pile of crumbled trees. It doesn't make sense to worry about dying when they're dead already, but this pain in his arm sure feels real.
Ugh. Don't get too close to the trees. They're poisonous or something.
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shit, that's not good.]
Damn it... Alright, we get outta here, and then we find someone who knows what the hell's going on before you pass out or start growing bark or whatever.
[Is that what those trees are? People? Who even knows, Shinjiro has never been one of the thinkers of the group. If they don't have enough info, then they just gotta keep going until they do. And maybe being out of the range of a sweltering fire will help their brains work a bit better, when there's not a barely-contained rush of adrenaline thundering through his arteries and limping back through his veins, keeping his eyes darting as they move to keep from getting too close to the trees or too the heat.]
Lemme know if it gets worse. How long've you been out here, anyway?
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[His answer is short, cut off by the swelling pain. Makoto keeps his eyes trained forward, putting on the best leader facade that he can, for Shinjiro's sake. And yet, he already senses that this isn't going to work. If the pain keeps spreading, it won't be long before he can't walk.
He slows down to a stop, his attention drawn toward a small group of huddling, terrified nymphs. One of them breaks away from the others and dives into the fire, drawing wails from its companions.]
...I'm gonna try touching the fire.
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But then Makoto says that and Shinjiro can't help but snap his attention to him, staring incredulously.]
You-- what?
[touching the fire what sort of poison-induced insanity???]
[He grabs at Makotro's other arm, grip firm and unrelenting.] And do what, burn your fingers off? No. Don't be a moron.
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The trees are trying to tell me that fire will make it go away.
[Not that he won't still burn his fingers off, but he's already died once, and that death was so much more painful, in its own way.
He turns his head slightly to glance at Shinjiro.] ...it'd make sense, if we're in hell after all. Right?
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bleatbark to it. For all he knows, the toxin is warping Makoto's head, making him want to-- what, throw himself into the fire? That doesn't make any more sense than anything else, but the last thing he intends to do is let his leader thrust an arm or more into the burning brush.]It doesn't matter where we are, the only thing that's gonna 'go away' is you.
[Even if it was some sort of afterlife or whatever (an idea of which Shinjiro has never really subscribed to, if only because the idea of continuing existence after death is so exhausting-) why would lunging into a fire accomplish anything?
He's not listening to any of the whispers, all of it blending into the crackling and rushing of everything around them.] C'mon. Snap outta it before I drag your ass outta here.
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It's alright. I'm not afraid. [He pats Shinji's hand limply with his dead, motionless hand.] Besides... You weren't around long enough to see me follow in your footsteps. There's a lot I need to tell you later. Okay?
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hello fellow vamp / iii obvs
he's not so far along in his changes that the sun has started to hurt him — good for him, not so good for their resident protag here — but he has noticed the fatigue setting in, which is odd, because even for a boy his age he's in excellent condition. it's all that protein powder, we swear.
that doesn't change the fact that something is wrong and something has been wrong, but at the very least bumping into someone familiar gives him something else to focus on. gives his brain something to do that isn't worry over all those hows and whys.
he'd recognize that uniform jacket anywhere. ) Hey— ( he calls on approach, because with makoto's back turned to him, he doesn't want to risk startling him needlessly.
he's at least conscious of that much. ) Are you all right?
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But he keeps the thought to himself as his friend approaches him, his face staying neutral and calm. He nods from under the shade of his jacket.]
The sun is bothering me, but I'm fine. Are you okay?
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can we just stop assuming this is some kind of twisted-ass afterlife and that he's dead along with the both of you. he most certainly is not.
and would prefer neither of you be, but. well.he's just a point in his own timeline where death hasn't happened yet. because some people just enjoy hurting themselves with the revelations when they come later. moving right along —
he rolls one shoulder in a shrug, something easy, nonchalant as he can manage. ) Trying to get my bearings, mostly. ( a beat. ) But now that you mention it. ( of course he hasn't quite gotten to the point of being burned by the sun, because some people enjoy taking their monster changes as slowly as possible and drawing them out as much as possible, but since it's in his head, now?
he's starting to feel a bit less than comfortable. ) I'm a little uncomfortable, myself. ( which is weird. to say the least. )
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He beckons him into the shadow of the tree.] The shade helps. Only your face is exposed, so if you get out of the stun, you should feel better.