dagung | ☆ TDM: SEPTEMBER

Test Drive: September

All threads can be considered game canon,

the prompts and test drive itself will be

• 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.
• 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hearing a voice behind her makes her briefly regret crying out in pain. Did she unknowingly But everything was fine, she was not in danger. That was a voice familiar to the queen, even if it was hard to believe it belonged to a little boy - the body of one, at least.

She hides her burnt hand in the fabric of her dress and turns away from the mirrors to face Andersen.]

I assure you, good Caster, I can certainly find enjoyment in just any genre - even a fairytale gone bad. Although your assumption that the story of my life might not be what I would really want to see right now is quite correct...

[She turns back to the mirrors and touches a few more with her other hand, but she hardly pays any attetion to what scenes the enchantment brings to life.]

What about you? Is there one with your portrait here as well?

[Servants often seek out the company of other Servants - and in this case, Marie is someone he recognizes from Chaldea. There's some comfort in a familiar face, even if he isn't the best acquainted with the queen. She's far too cheerful for someone like him. Optimism and pessimism rarely mixed well together, and although he's accustomed to entertaining royals, he doesn't think he will be good company in her court.

Andersen snorts at her question.]

But of course. It seems that almost everyone's stories are on display in this odd gallery. With all due respect, Your Majesty, my life is a boring tale of unfulfilled dreams and mundane grievances. It will not be adequate entertainment for you. I recommend the tales of queens like yourself.

[Even though they have never spoken much, let alone have established any kind of bond even resembling a friendship, Andersen's name is deinetly present on Marie's list of potential friends. Every Servant from Chaldea is on that list, even if some of them might not know it yet. Or be personally interested in befriending the queen.]

Now, do not say that. Everyone's life story is special and unique, full of moments of joy and moments of sadness. I sincerely believe that the story of a man who penned so many stories of his own could definitely be, as you described it, adequate entertainment.

[What happened to respecting people's privacy? Not really Marie's style.]

[Ah, that's a very Marie-like answer. Andersen frowns, though he holds his scalding tongue for once. It seems he's thinking over what he should do.]

I can offer you no happy endings from my life, Your Majesty. Even knowing that, do you still wish to peer into my mirror?

My dear Caster, I would guess that neither of our stories reached a conclusion that was of particularly happy nature.

[She is stil smiling just as she did before, but if someone was very attentive, they might have just noticed the tint of sadness in her voice just now.]

Even though these are the cards fate has dealt to us, it does not mean our lives were completly devoid of the precious moments of joy. This is true for me and I am sure it applies to your life story as well.

[And Andersen, who's made his living off of observing others, hears that undercurrent of sadness and understands. Marie Antoinette is an inherently tragic symbol of royalty, though she walks Chaldea's halls merrily and gracefully. He heaves a sigh.]

I cannot choose the memory you see. Don't come crying to me if what you see depresses you.

[On that cheerful note, he'll lead her to his mirror. It's a plain thing - pewter silver, with engravings of all sorts of animals and fanciful characters surrounding the glass. Compared to some of the gaudier mirrors, it doesn't stand out very much. He'll stop beside it, arms folded across his chest.]

[She nods to Andersen and follows him to his mirror in silence. The queen's radiant smile is fully back, but it might seem just a little bit forced when it is not accompanied by her usual chattiness.

Just as expected, the mirror frame is not the fanciest one around. However, Marie still finds it pretty cute. It definitely fits the famous storywriter. She approaches it and brushes the frame with her finertips. Fortunately it is not made of iron.. even though she has no reason to fear iron, or does she? The decorations are cold to the touch. Just like the owner, she thinks and a small smile appears on her face. She eventually touches the mirror surface as well and watches as the enchantment does its work and the story unfolds.

Marie sees Andersen, in the Servant form of a little boy she is familiar with. There is also a woman dressed in nun clothing who radiates a sinister aura. They seem to be arguing but she is unable to hear them so she cannot say for sure.

Suddenly the image becomes blurry and the enchantment stirs images to life once again. She sees a snowy street by a canal in Copenhagen, beautiful at dusk. A man in his forties sits by a window, but he pays the views no mind. The room is dimly lit, there is a pen in his hand and he is fully focused on the piece of paper in front of him. Without even a trace of smile on his face the man is writing a reply to a letter. Marie can catch enough of the correspondence to understand why - it was a letter from someone who could not return his feelings.

The vision ends and the queen turns to Caster once again.]

[And Andersen watches, silent, not a slip of his usual toxic barbs once leaving his lips. He may be a boorish man, but even he knows to shut up during a show. There's nothing in the mirror that he wouldn't reveal to Marie, for that was the sort of man he was: one who bared his heart and soul to his readers, scooping out as much of himself as he could for the sake of filling them up.

He snorts softly at the appearance of the nun - his expression remains stoic when the iced roofs of Copenhagen float into view - and once the mirror is finished, Andersen flourishes his hand at the magical device.]

No encore? I'm not surprised. As I said, my life is a depressing, unfulfilled, mundane tragedy. It is not the sort of story that motivates one to see life in a different light; it's simply one that depresses and sits in your gullet like undercooked pork.

[Marie stands there in silence for a moment, trying to pick her words more carefully than she usually does. From what the enchanted mirror has told her, Andersen was completly honest with her. His life, at least what she has seen of it, was certainly not filled with happiness. However...]

Is this really all there ever was to your life, Caster? I would honestly find it hard to believe that someone whose life was filled with nothing but sadness, heartbreak and misery would be able to touch the hearts of so many children and adults alike with his stories.

[She probably could not convince Andersen this way. However, it would be unlike Marie to give up. She was determined to find the positive sides of everything, even when facing the incarnation of pessimism himself.]

☆ TDM: SEPTEMBER

Re: the path through

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