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☆ TDM: SEPTEMBER
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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 27th.With that taken care of...
• Applications Open The 24th! These will last until the end of the month, the 30th, with the intro log going on up October 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 Wilde
For once, the forest that comes to view isn’t flecked with autumnal colors, with leaves that fall without the touch of wind. Each branch blossoms with life, flowers of all shades dotting their surfaces as spring rears its head, and you’re tugged from the edge, through a worn path, and deeper than ever before. The gentle laughter and chatter of living creatures filters in through petals that you brush past, hanging from flowering vines winding downward like delicate curtains.
There’s something new to this though, eyes that see and a growing excitement among the forests’ inhabitants: You’re more known to them than you might guess, it would seem.
 Outskirts The meadow where you find yourself is fresh and green, an explosion of color and the sweet scents of flowers and rain. Wildflowers dot the grass, all beginning to open, in sprays of purple and pink and orange. To one end, the stream flows clear over smooth river rocks into a small pond dotted with vibrant blue fish and turtle-shelled ducks floating without a care in the world. To the other, the forest begins with tall, white-barked trees and saplings in various stages of new growth, pushing out tender green leaves. It's pleasant, but strange, because... There is next to no sign of the Cwyld here in this idyllic patch of the Wilde, no blackened foliage or shadows hiding white-eyed Cwyldtid. The wildlife seem similarly unaffected, even thriving - watch out for the mama petalwolves with their brilliantly-colored floral coverings. Most of them camouflaging themselves in the thickets of wildflowers are followed by bushy, green-leafed cubs, and they're widely known to be aggressive when threatened. The most inspiring sight, however, is one not seen in the Wilde of Geardagas for many years, due to the wide spread of the Cwyld. A silvery, equine creature emerges from the treeline, trotting slowly toward the pond on iridescent hooves. A single white horn protrudes from its head, and its mane shimmers pearlescent in the morning sunlight. Following it is a smaller, clumsier unicorn with a gold-tinged coat, happy to be out and about. Unicorns are known to be exceedingly rare - to spot a foal in the Wilde is unheard of. You're all very lucky to see the way the forest is healing. While some may know that the Coven itself has a unicorn in its stables, this wild one is unused to the hands of humans and may hold her ground in protection of her baby, threatening with her horn and performing small feats of magic to that end -- illusion and physical enhancements are its more core offensives, though it can do healing and shields on the other side. The foal, for the most part, doesn’t seem to have a lick of self-preservation (perhaps it’s been living in safety for too long) and won’t mind bounding up to something, or someone, new and interesting, nickering in asking to play. |
 The Path Through Onward and inward, traveler. The healing forest is vast, but a particular route is clearly outlined to lead toward something. As you head past the treeline, more saplings of varying heights and ages shoot forth from the ground between the large-trunked trees that survived. Warm sunlight dapples the ground in an irregular pattern of light and shade, and shines off a series of mirrors, each about the size of a large hardcover book, hanging from the tree trunks to either side to form a path. No two mirrors are alike. Similar to the mirrors within the Looking-Glass House, each is framed in different decorations and different materials, with different engravings or embossings, but unlike the Looking-Glass House, all the mirrors' decorations are visible to passersby. They're well-cared for out here, polished to a shine and picked clean of leaf-litter and outdoor debris; distant, happy voices reveal that the area is far from abandoned. Each of these mirrors is placed in honor of a Mirrorbound, and all contain an enchantment that, when the surface of the glass is touched, causes it to display short, silent 'moving pictures' of that Mirrorbound's heroic deeds, in Aefenglom, in Dorchacht, or maybe even from the character's home, whatever they may have done to earn this high regard. Whether the retellings are true to life, or completely dramatized, it's clear that much care was put into remembering their individual stories and personalizing the frames of their mirrors. The path between the mirrors serves the dual purpose of memorializing, and leading the way deeper into the forest... |
 Within the Wilde ... Where the sound of creatures grow louder and more plentiful, shaping into actual words as characters step into a clearing, more familiar to those who’d dreamed the first dream than most: There may be no long tables set up with food and drink, but the sight of Fae flitting about and gossiping is certainly something all its own. They, along with Dryads, seem to be plentiful in comparison to the waking world, and once they’ve taken notice of the new faces... immediately begin to ask questions. From whence did they come? Were they filled with new magic power, or had they already begun to change? It’s exciting -- they haven’t had new connections to the world in some time, most of the old Bound having returned beyond their glass some time ago, and while it could mean there was trouble on the horizon they don’t seem too bothered by that fact. “Most” returned, it’s said, because there’s plenty of creatures who claim to have been descended from those who helped to restore the balance of the world, proudly claiming so to any who spend half a minute with them. While they can be spoken to in a sense, characters won’t get anything too crazy out of them -- they’re willing to speak on present happenings (or what’d be present for characters in game) and how that played out, such as how Dorchacht was far more free than it had been centuries hence in example. Anything more pressing, such as how it may have come about, is unable to be understood despite everything else being able to. They tease new dreamers that those of old were brought here, as far as the stories go, to help cleanse the world and return it to what it once was, and joke that they’d better prepare for the same trouble -- what a laugh, their Wilde as it is now, desecrated once more. But the Fae in particular are tricksy and prefer pranks to actual conversation, picking on anyone in sight to see how true it was that Mirrorbound -- you, apparently -- had powerful magic and amazing abilities as Monsters: Give it a shot, cast a spell or two, show off your more Monstrous talents, they’ll find it a genuine hoot. |
Regina Vaughan | OC | Monster: Faun
She has scars, by the way; the only readily visible of which will be what looks like scars from an autopsy-style incision, across her collar, down her chest and stomach, and then across her lower belly. If you have any questions about her or her universe, feel free to message me at sugarburger#5564 on discord!]
1. Outskirts
[This has to be the single strangest dream she's had in... years, probably. But it's a whole lot nicer than the nightmares she's been having. In this dream, she's a faun, her soft hips and legs covered with a layer of coarse fur in white with vivid black spots, and now ending in hooves; atop her head, poking out from her sleek, dark bob, are not only a pair of little cow horns, but also a pair of long, soft ears that flick and shift with her mood. She also has a little tail, which is kind of funny.
At least the dream has seen fit to adjust her typical clothing to fit her new shape... kind of. Her favorite skirt-- short and tightly-cropped-- fits a little bit awkwardly around her hips and thighs now, but at least her shirt still fits, a dark band T-shirt with a logo that's nearly unreadable. Some local metal group she saw once.
Her subconscious apparently just gave up on making her boots fit her new legs, but she's not mad at that; particularly not when she glances over the beautiful field before her. It's so... idyllic. It's kind of like illustrations in an 80's kids' fantasy book, or a backdrop for a tacky unicorn painting.
... and there's the unicorn now. She actually gasps when she sees it, a broad grin spreading across her face. If she's a faun... shouldn't stuff like unicorns be okay with her? She calls out to it in her warm, low voice:]
Hello, darlin'!
[The baby bounds over to her happily, and Regina giggles, reaching out as though to touch it...
... she doesn't seem to notice the way the mother is bowing up at her. If she makes contact with that baby, she is very clearly in trouble.
2. The Path Through
[This is... a weird place. Once again, she can't help but feel like she's tripped and fallen into some old fantasy movie; the mirrors are beautiful, but something about this place makes her new ears and tail flick nervously, her posture unusually small and curled in on herself.
Curiously, she approaches a mirror that catches her interest, failing to notice the owner of that mirror nearby... or that the mirrors really "belong" to anyone, just yet. She's yet to find one for her.
She reaches out, and brushes gentle fingers over its surface... and then hops back with a little gasp as it comes alive, staring into the image in fascination.
What does she see?]
2
He isn't expecting the woman to touch the glass, nor for it to start playing a scene of him running over rooftops, and then jumping on top of a moving train in pursuit of another android. He frowns, but watches curiously.]
I didn't know the mirrors could do that.
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She startles at that, hopping back... and then tripping and staggering a little on her new legs.]
Oh-- um! Sorry, I didn't see you there! [She half-laughs breathlessly at herself, trying to get her little cow legs back steady; and then she straightens, and glances up at the mirror... and then at Connor.]
... yeah. That's-- you in there, right? [The smallest bit of an impressed, slightly flirty smile pulls at the edge of her lips. This dream man is cute. Is this someone she saw around town before and her mind kept a note, or did her brain make him up? Because, either way... damn.]
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It is, yes.
[He offers a smile in return.]
I was chasing down a suspect.
[That makes it sound way better than how he sees it now; he was actually chasing down a man who just wanted to be free.]
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[... while she's not too keen on them in general, this guy's cheekbones are making it very hard for her to feel all that hostile, particularly given how gently he's speaking, and how careful his touch is when he catches her.]
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[Even though he was built for police work, he thinks he's happier just looking after dogs all day. Who wouldn't be?]
Now I work at a pet store. There's a lot less jumping on moving trains.
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2
Suddenly, a large white hand reaches up to pull the mirror away from her. Sure enough, the demon himself stands in front of her, now in three whole dimensions. He smiles, his grin bright as the paper he was born upon, though a trickle of dark inky sweat trails over his forehead.
His free hand waves a cheerful little greeting. Hello friend! Don't mind a boring old thing like that!!!! He extends his hand out for a shake, even as the other tightens its grip on his mirror. Being in person is so much nicer, don't you think? ]
IT'S HIM
She hops back a step, fortunately able to catch herself before she falls entirely, a hand pressing at the flat of her chest as she stares at...
... this... thing? It's... incredibly creepy, but it's also honestly almost kind of cute, too. And then it waves at her, and she laughs breathlessly, and reaches out to shake his hand, though her posture is still more than a little bit nervous. Her soft cow ears and tail flick nervously.]
Uh, hi there, darlin'... you scared me. Um... [She glances at the way it's clutching that mirror; thinking back to her own, she can hardly blame it for not wanting anyone to see what it might contain. She smiles sympathetically.]
It's alright, if you don't want me lookin' at that, then I'm not gonna.
!!
His concerns taken care of, the little demon looks over Regina properly. He makes a great show of leaning back, tapping at his chin, and quirking his head to one side. There's an awful lot of people in the city these days so he can't know them all (he's trying, though), but he's fairly sure he hasn't seen this friend around before.
Bendy points at Regina, then mimes putting his hands under his head like a pillow. She's a dream visitor, isn't she? ]
2.
Next to her is a tall man dressed as a really cheesy vampire. Harry Dresden was a lot of things but he wasn't always smart. He'd gone to a vampire Halloween party dressed as the worst vampire in history. Next to him was a slender sleek woman with dark skin dressed as little red riding hood, a basket under her arm. Behind them all was a man in full plate armor. There were whispers and then a hushed silence as a lovely man took his place next to Justine, gathering her in his arms. He is stunning and tall, with angular features and long dark hair. He is dressed in nothing but a loin cloth with a pair of fairy wings.
The scene in the mirror goes dark and then there is an imagine of a dais where a willowed teen kneels in front of a stunning woman wearing fire, holding a long gleaming sword; the sword of the cross.]
We fought her.
[Her voice is soft and sweet but uncertain.]
She was going to kill that girl.
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And then the scene changes, and one of her hands moves to curl at her collar, her dark eyes round with concern.]
... what happened? Did you win?
[A beat--]
I-- sorry, I don't mean to dig into your business, if you don't wanna talk about it...
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No. I wouldn't say we did.
The girl didn't die but the other woman and I had been taken. The house set on fire. Many people died, not all of them as evil as that woman. [Her dark lovely eyes shift as if haunted.]
It is... complicated.
[And what happened to Susan... it isn't fair.]
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I'm... so, so sorry, sweetie. That's awful... I'm sorry, I shouldn't've asked, I didn't mind to bring it up.
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It's alright. Anyone would be curious.
Though... [Justine's dark eyes soften, almost pleading.] I hope you don't mind if I leave it at that. Not all of it is my story to tell.
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Woah. Woah, hey, uh... you don't want to watch that.
[A voice sounds from beside her, and when she turns, she'll notice the same boy, older and obviously a little worse for wear. He looks nervously at the reflection in the mirror.]
Stupid things keep showing off shit no one wants to talk about.
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... and burn scars. Regina isn't the quickest shot in the world, but she's studied medicine enough to know that's what she's looking at.
She's quiet, her eyes wide, her lip worried in her teeth for a beat... but she turns away from the mirror, taking careful steps over to the living, breathing version of the boy before her, a weak, sympathetic smile on her face.]
I'm... sorry about that, um... mine was kinda the same, so... I understand.
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I think some people had better things in their mirrors, so I guess we're just the unlucky ones. Sorry about that.
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Small hands thumb through the photographs, laying them in a neat row. They're just a child's hands, white and spindly, and they routinely reach toward a bag of sugar cubes that crunch between his teeth.
The photographs are not Regina's case, and the butchered girl not nearly so lucky, but the plastic-draped, blood-spattered room is uncannily similar.
He's about to ask her to step away; he knows that if she keeps watching, things will probably get worse... but when he catches a glimpse of her scars, he's actually the one that draws back. She's obviously a different girl but... for a moment he genuinely questions whether she could be that particular victim.]
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-- and then she's stopped short by a long, slim figure, and when her eyes glance up to meet his, they're shining with tears, her soft frame obviously trembling and her little cow legs unsteady beneath her.
She should say something, but-- it's as though her memories are suddenly crashing down around her, and all she can feel is pain and illness, an agony that cuts, literally and figuratively, down to her core, and she collapses at his feet, her hands moving to cover her face.
Somewhere beneath her fingers, she tries to say something, but her voice is muffled, warped with her agony.]
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He clears his throat.]
I know it looks really bad, but...
["But?" God, he's off to a great start, isn't he?]
It might comfort you to know that shock set in quickly and she wasn't in pain for very long.
[He should just shut up. Dimly, he realizes it, while he realizes that when his hands were that small, he was desensitized to the point where he scarcely blinked when presented with any array of human remains, in any condition, by any depravity of a fellow human's actions.
Her scars aren't the result of an accident. They're too symmetrical. L realizes it but fails to connect on an empathetic level.]
I... don't suppose they caught him. The person who...
[He traces a finger briskly over his own chest, as though clumsily and daftly crossing himself in the presence of a demon, indicating the scars' vague placement.]
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He wants to know...
... if that's him-- if that's his mirror, then... he's seen worse. Right?
She lifts a shaking hand from her face, pointing to another mirror nearby. Its frame is marked with swirling, organic curves; from the edges, several small, delicately-carved wings protrude, the details on the feathers of each distinct. Traces of other shapes can be found in the frame; magnolia flowers, patterns of lace.
This is a dream, right? And this dream man, strange as he is... he seems interested. So she'll let him watch what happened for himself.
It's fine. It's just a dream. She repeats that to herself as she tries to catch her breath, to stop shaking.]
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In this case, he nods, turning his gaze toward the mirror she indicates. And he settles in, lowering himself to the ground, crouching like a child or an animal as he takes in the scene.
She's right; he has seen worse, more shocking, more terrible things in his career. The severity and depravity isn't lost on him, but he evaluates it more like a number than an experience. It's happening on a screen in front of him, like most of his exposure to the mysteries he solved. It all happened; to him, in that padded room, it might as well have not been real.]
If you need to look away... you should, perhaps.
[He does not, as the scene continues to unfold. It's horrible; the tone of his voice doesn't even change to reflect it. But he's paying close, close attention.]
two!! - CW: blood, gentle nsfw mention of ada and her previous lover, who was a half-vamp lol
Amidst the cuts and consequences, two fingers violently twist a shining ring from one of their kin. A diamond becomes a ruby, nearly.
Adeline's mirror is bleeding. In the final flashes of its memory, Regina can see the shudder of feminine collarbones, the ducking of a head to reveal wine-stained lips drawing gentle, weak breaths― to reveal two pinprick holes, a maroon smear. That same golden glow is born between them, on their skin, in the gentle press of one needful forehead against the other. The final image is a strange symbol: a golden key, a watchful eye inlaid in its hilt.
Speechless― all she has is nothing, in that moment, watching the glimpse of her blood-soaked existence, of what little she had claim to on her own. Only the heated sting of tears pouring quietly from wide, golden eyes is enough to pull her out of her memories, to press a glove to her mouth in suppressing a sob. Were Regina to turn, she would meet wide eyes, two lagomorphic ears sloping in sorrow over her golden head.
Heaven above. The girl, the one in front of her― did she see that?― or is she safe...?
c-c-combo breaker 1
—it's with some annoyance that he notes the mother to begin hoofing the ground, its horn aimed. he — should probably do something.
so he steps forward, and with a sharp announcement, ]
I'd be careful of doing that, if I were you.
Outskirts