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TDM: January
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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 up on February 1st. The application page can be found here. As a reminder, this will be our last uncapped application round!
• 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 Prehistoric Wilde
Thick summer heat hangs heavy over the uninfected landscape like a damp blanket, smothering. The jungle around you is thick and wet, full of the sounds of chittering animals and the high-pitched drone of insects. The flora and fauna are like nothing you've ever seen before, large and alien in colors and shapes, though they bear no signs of the Cwyld. Flowers the size of a man's head and brightly colored in rainbow hues curl their tendrils invitingly, and giant mosquitoes buzz through the air seeking a meal. You can barely see the glow of the twin moons through the thick canopy above. There are no signs of civilization - at least, not the civilization most will be used to; only the distant sound of the river, compelling you to follow its winding path. But will you go forward, or will you go back?
 Rumble in the Jungle Making headway through the jungle at night is a chore. The foliage grows thick and the humid heat is oppressive for even those who enjoy the warmth. There are no clear paths here, no easy way through. The canopy of the ancient trees far, far over your head is just as dense, but the faintest moonlight filters through the holes left by the huge leaves in stippling patterns across the musty forest floor. 'Large' seems to be the theme - lining whatever path you pick your way through, there are pitcher plants massive enough to swallow a grown man, with small animals and giant insects being digested down inside the sticky liquid that fills them. The flowers are as big as a man's head, and come in a rainbow of colors, their venomous tendrils curling toward signs of life. The trunks of some of the trees are as thick as houses, and shade the ground beneath them with leaves like umbrellas. The hand-sized mosquitoes thrive in the sticky heat and if not killed first, can make off with a full pint of blood from an unsuspecting person. At some point in your journey, the ground begins to rumble beneath your feet. The farther you go, the longer you walk, the more signs of life become visible: thick, winding trails of crushed foliage, huge, animalistic footprints in the mud. Luckily, to this world, you are small and insignificant, and may escape the notice of the local Monsters - the massive, prehistoric ancestors of today's Monsters. They seem like giants, colossal Titanoboa Nagas with hollow fangs like swords, towering Fauns with the lower halves of mammoths, sabertooth Turnskins, pterodactyl Harpies with leathery wings. Even the parts of them that resemble humans (and they have far fewer human-like parts than their modern counterparts) are larger than any actual human being. They operate primarily on instinct, made even stronger by the full moons above, and perceive the strange new creatures as threats - or food. Sticking to the river seems safest - at least until you run into megalodon Merrow, singing an alien, but alluring, song to draw in prey, or the apex predator of this prehistoric world - Dragons, bigger and scalier than the ones Mirrorbound may know, stopped to drink at the river. All other Monsters flee from the huge reptiles, lest they become food themselves. Luckily you can defend yourself with your new abilities, or your neat changes - you're small, but not totally helpless. Interesting to note... while all other Monster types are represented, there are no Fae or Chimeras in the Wilde here, and the Vampires are more like huge bat-monsters that traverse the jungle on all fours than humanoid bloodsuckers. |
 The Natives Going backward, away from the distant sounds of the sea and against the current of the river, leads you through dense jungle. How long have you traversed the landscape? Hours? Days? Time passes funny in dreams. Eventually the trees thin out, grow taller and less leafy, and the air becomes drier. Instead of loamy soil beneath your feet, you start to feel rocky, harder earth, and spot outcroppings of stone. The sun begins to rise, which makes it easier to spot people on the horizon, a little settlement coming to life in the morning, nestled where the river forks into two. They're much hardier than the familiar people of Aefenglom, sunburned and dressed in natural, rough fabrics. Their homes, if one can call them that, are shoddy little structures made of sticks and leaves and mud, pressed up against the sturdiness of the stone formations. And, when they spot strangers approaching their village, they scramble for their weapons - crude clubs, stone axes, even just large rocks snatched up off the ground. The translation magic works on them, thankfully. Their speech is halted and simple, but they get their point across. Tell them who you are, or they'll beat your brains in. Monsters might get their brains beat in anyway if they aren't careful, even though they're much smaller than the Monsters these humans are used to. And Witches? May the gods help you if you use magic in front of these terrified, unevolved people, lest they mistake you for a Fae (the word is whispered with fear and revulsion in their voices) and swarm you with simple iron tools. If you're an actual Fae, an obvious Fae? They'll whisk their children into their huts protectively and then run you right out of the village. Violently. The truly observant, or those who can see through illusions, among you may notice something strange, though. Some Fae actually seem to live among them, heavily cloaked in natural illusions, with the primitive humans none the wiser. There are just a few, but all of them look young, twelve or thirteen at the oldest, and they are all scared of their secret coming to light. Fae who get caught tend to be burned at the stake around here. |
 The Invaders Perhaps you chose to go forward, with the current and toward the distant sound of ocean waves, where the river pours into the sea. More long-time residents of Aefenglom may notice that the shoreline is familiarly-shaped, but wider, bigger, not yet worn down by thousands of years of erosion. There is no bustling Harbor, only the waves crashing on the rocks, small islands dotting the water near the shore. There is no Bright Wall - there is no city, even, only an expanse of beach transitioning gently into an idyllic grove dotted with gauzy, pointed tents, and a beautiful, gilded ship half sunk into the sandy earth. It seems safer than the jungle, at first - until you notice all the Fae. They're more insectoid than the ones many are familiar with, with big, glittering eyes and either bright, jewel-toned wings like dragonflies or butterflies, or delicate, leafy wings in greens and browns. They're also taller than modern, lesser Fae, though not by much, and they're thin and angular, standing on spindly limbs that barely seem able to hold them. Characters receive a warmer welcome here, by the band of true Fae that have made their camp in the grove, though the alien-looking beings have a tendency to treat them like toys, children, or both, cooing over their sizes and their magic. "Look at the little Monsters! Aren't they cute!" "We should make some of our own! And oh, the little humans have magic! Delightful!" It's hard to have a conversation with one - they're condescending at best, and at worst, flit off to another entertainment out of boredom while you're mid-sentence. And entertainments abound in their camp. They're served and tended to like emperors by collared humans - adults and young adults do the heavy labor, including pulling grand little chariots for transportation, though there are some highly-supervised human children running about fetching drinks and fanning their Fae masters with palm leaves. Farther out, a large, deep pit has been dug out of the earth, ringed by a waist-high barrier of logs, a few Fae gathering at the barrier and leaning over, talking in conversational, happy voices. Down below, Chimera gladiators fight for their amusement, while the Fae keep up running commentary, discussing each warrior's chances, new breeding prospects, interesting crossbreeds their fellows have come up with ("She's trying an Arachne and a Turnskin together, how delightful!"). Trying to disrupt the proceedings will only result in the Fae turning their magic on you - illusions and curses, nasty little tricks. Sit down, silly little ones! The fight is just getting good! Or maybe... Maybe they'll toss you into the pit to see what your chances are in battle. |
i'm so glad you ended up having to calculate this sdkhgslh
And in spite of that, you did it! Well done. A strong body like yours is irresistible. [He clasps his hands together, pressing them to his cheek like a maiden smitten. First she nabs a human, flies off with him, and then manages to help him to his feet one-handed? Is it possible NOT to be smitten, even just a little?] You impress me by the second, beautiful.
[With those wings she demonstrated earlier and the shake of her hand, he can't help but make note of a very important thing. His delight is dialed down, sober as he holds out his hand. His gaze drops down to it.]
It was... nice. To have that contact, just once. But I was so wrapped up in the moment that I forgot such a crucial reason not to touch you. You remember what I did to the Fae back then, I'm sure. [He mimes the headlock. It's hard to forget the shriek from that Fae.] It's important that you know this for the future: iron will burn the Puca and Fae horribly. Fatally, in some cases. So... take care not to touch it.
She's just so... Jacked
Her wings do twitch at the sting though. She waits another second before lifting it again to look. It's enough to make the lineface falter. Her hand looked like a new trainee after a first day using gear. Small, angry red blisters had formed where his fingers had pressed as she'd tugged. This was going to be a problem... Especially if it was going to get worse. She can't help the sigh. Still looking at the blisters. ]
That does explain why they wanted to get rid of you so quickly... Thanks for telling me instead of leaving me to find out on my own.
[She'd just been dismissing her gear's heat. It's just because the area was warm. ]
oooh mikasa ooooh
[He makes a fist out of his hand, feeling the burning sensation in his claws. It goes unsaid that a Puca such as himself endures it constantly. In this dream, though, it feels... reset. Bad, but an immense relief compared to real life, where he's nearly met his threshold for pain. He's sicker than he could ever have imagined a robot could be.
He won't let himself ruminate over it too long. He points to the kid slung over Mikasa's shoulder, and tosses his head in the direction of the village where humans reside.]
Oh, yes. We have a delivery to make, don't we...?
https://twitter.com/ROOI_SD/status/1209939094018482176
You're weak to the thing you're made of? [A dumb question, given he's just shown her but. It was like the idea that someone was allergic to air. Her face almost softens, what a restriction. But they didn't have time to question it, and he didn't seem to want to say more. So she nods, frowning.
The boy gives another wiggle. Then a yelp when he makes an attempt to pull her wings. It hadn't hurt, but they flickered to life again kicking up a small breeze, throwing sparkling dust into the air. Too small to truly fly, they were thin, almost see through until the folded again. The layers making them opaque and showing a spotchy pattern of greens and browns. The same colour as the jungle. Meanwhile Mikasa is just still, willing her new limbs to not do that. Why were they sparkling? Stop that.
It's awkward. It only lasted a minute but, so awkward.... She's just going to nod again and pretend that didn't happen. Yep. Going to shift the boy. ]
Do you know how far it is from here?
[How far had they fled. ]
sadly, the link doesn't seem to work, but they have cute art
Yes, getting the boy back to the humans is of greater importance. He's been to their village, but... Dreams make it hard to tell how far and how long he had to go, especially when he spent that time running. For all that his constitution works against him, it's also a benefit: Mettaton doesn't tire like people do, and he found that he expels heat through the thin skin of his ears. Overheating is certainly a thing of the past! But for a Fae, who has lovely, delicate wings with a beautiful sheen...]
... Hm.
[Oh. He's distracted by their sparkle. Mettaton envies that quality, even though his fur is specked by shimmer like he rolled in fine glitter himself. Focus, Mettaton. His ear rotates, gauging the sound of the ocean.]
It's going to be a ways. By evening, we should make it... I think. If we're fast on our feet. [He looks to her, both gauging her reaction to his news and hoping the sparkling thing happens again.]
Aw they deleted it. It was buff af Mika carrying hamster Armin and Eren
But she nods. They'd have to do this the boring way. Strength might have been her forte, but to didn't end up one of 'humanity' s' strongest by just being strong. ]
I'm good enough at running. We don't want to be this far in when night falls.
[And with that, the she starts moving, lugging the boy like a sack of spuds.]
she's buff in my heart
[He has to admit: running is far easier with legs like these... but NOT because he's not wearing heels. Mark his words: he will get heels that fit these feet. It simply feels better to run, and he's glad that she rises to the challenge.
A thought strikes him. The humans were terrified of him, threatening him... And to other more human-appearing newcomers, they worried they would take their children. Could they fear the Fae? This thought doesn't bother Mettaton too much: after all, they're doing the opposite of stealing children by bringing one back. At the very least, he knows one thing to be true.]
I want to warn you of something else, as your helpful guide. Which is the role I appear to have taken. The humans... are afraid of Monsters. They might not regard us well! But they should, since we're bringing back one of their own.
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He's quick. Quicker than her, even if he's larger stride was counted. Mikasa's lips purse. That could be another issue. She'd not had any earlier, but she also didn't have wings then. Thinking. ]
Thanks for the warning... [And she's still thinking for a moment before speaking again.] You should carry him once we're closer. If they don't recognise him...
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[And if need be, he has the talent for shapeshifting. He can look like a human, if that'll keep them from responding poorly.
Speaking of carrying the human like a sack of flour, Mettaton notices her difficulty in navigating the place. He's not as familiar with the Fae as he feels he should be, suddenly, and wonders why she couldn't just fly... Until it occurs to him that she has a lot of extra weight, among other reasons. He considers this.]
You wowed me with your ability to lift me up, but you have a lot to look out for underfoot... It wouldn't do if you broke your ankle. Let me carry him. [He presses his fingertips against his chest.] Being robotic comes with its perks. It wouldn't tire me out! I have no muscle to exhaust.
[... In his arms, at least? (This transformation is the weirdest thing.) The worst it could do is cause him to overheat, and that problem's been taken care of with his ears. The other... It's battery. That seems like a silly thing to worry about in his dreams.]
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When he brings up the boy, Mikasa pauses shifting him. Was he napping now?]
He's not heavy. But it might be safer... [If she didn't fall herself, then she'd probably drop the kid. And for a moment, Mikasa just holds him on her shoulder. Hesitant to give him. But this person had helped, so it was fine, right? So slowly she maneuvers the boy, bringing him closer to Mettaton.
He'll be disappointed to know she wouldn't fly.]
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Just treat him like luggage, you two. Keep it up.]
Perfect. Safe and secure! [Mettaton affectionately pats him on the head. The boy doesn't know what to make of this.] Well then! That should make navigating easier for you. Perhaps even with those wings of yours... Flight is a convenient mode of transportation.
[Let's be 100% clear. Mettaton has his heart in the right place, hoping she'll take whatever avenue is easiest and safest for her. But if he could see the sparkle again, he'd be thrilled. He's thinking about it.]
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Right...Thank you.
[And she's running again, then bracing and Mettaton gets more glitter but...At first it looks fine, the momentum putting her forwards, the wings sending her up, then she... uh well. Mikasa nearly plummets into a trunk. The wings manage another flutter to redirect the fall. But she's still going to land in the mud and leaves.
Gross.
She's never fell like that before. Even when she first started training with her gear, how embarrassing.]
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[You know, like a suspiciously familiar narrator. And when she fails, the cyborg pauses, like watching a wreck in slow motion. Then, he gives a bit of a chuckle. You think you can give me a clip like this and expect Mettaton NOT to be meta about it?]
Ahaha. Is that really the best attempt you have at that...? [It's almost in disbelief, but he remembers quite distinctly what it was like early on in his first dream. Everything sucked and was hard! So he shrugs with his only available arm.] Well, even our innate talents aren't always so picture perfect. Don't feel discouraged, darling! I'd offer to carry you, too... But we both know how well that would turn out.
[Mettaton leaps from his spot to land beside Mikasa, and he offers her a hand.]
If you're willing to pay the consequences.
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Mikasa doesn't move for a moment. Wiping her face, clear some of the gunk off. Her wings giving another few flaps. This white shirt is never going to be white again. She'd rather not be carried, she could still walk.
But she'll take the hand With her already scalded one. Even if it makes her wince.]
Thank you. I think I need a clearer area until I'm used to it.
[Somewhere that she won't just crash if it goes badly.]
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It might be for the best not to push your luck until then. Right. Running it is.
[This duo is like a cocktail for bad decisions, constantly. At least he got to see that sparkle again, but he'll keep that to himself.]
If you're ready... We shouldn't stall for much longer, darling!
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The wings slide down again, neatly folding together. They weren't large at all, only going from between her shoulder blades to just above the base of her spine. Folded like this it was hard to tell were one ended and the other began. Individually they'd have been an almost see through white, separated into small sections by powder lined veins.
Not that Mikasa can see this.]
We shouldn't.
[And she's running again. It's easier now she doesn't have to worry about braining a child or falling into something.
Eventually they'll be out and onto the plains. Hopefully without running into anything.]
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"It might surprise you, but the first human I ever met was smaller than this one! But it's close."
"Aefenglom? It's far more developed than this whimsical forest, ha-ha. Yet... disappointingly archaic. They don't even have TV!"
"I couldn't have imagined. My very own body, a weapon against the Fae... Of course. But the very sight of me could bring anyone to their knees."
"Your wings should grow to their full splendor in time. And I imagine they'll sparkle even more brilliantly...! If that's not gorgeous, what is??"
"I'm thinking of starting up a business of my own. There's a clothing boutique I like... But instead of relying on their future sight, a star like myself should DEFINE fashion!"
It's pretty pointless. Sorry, Mikasa. But this is how it is, and there was a lot of ground to cover. He doesn't have lungs to tire out, if this wasn't evidence of it. By the time that they emerge onto the plains, the human village is clearly in sight. Mettaton points.]
And there it is. You'll be reunited with humanity again soon, darling! [He regards Mikasa.] Have you been here, yet?
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The village is a nice site. Given she really wasn't sure what to do with a child that was afraid of her.]
For a little while. They don't seem to like newcomers.
[They hadn't chased her out. But she'd gotten some stares, people looking at her ears.]
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[In a poof of smoke, just the way Mettaton likes it, he takes upon a new form: a rather human-looking version of himself, wearing plain clothes — how sensible of him, all things considered. Good thing I have a ref of this already, from a D&D event in another game.]
If you wanted to attend me. I can do all of the talking, as negotiated! Otherwise, I'm more than ready to go on my own.
[The boy is part horrified, part astonished. He doesn't know what's happening, but he sees a village in the distance. It's deeply unsettling.]
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[Well. That sure is a lot. The smoke and them him looking completely normal. Mikasa wasn't sure what she was expecting there.]
I can do that?
[That'd be helpful. Very helpful, but how? She frowns, almost glaring at nothing as she concentrates. Then it's small, but there's a few lines of colour flash through her dark eyes. Like lightening in the night sky.
She barely changes. The wings and antenna seem to waver in the air for a moment, then they fade. The scar disappears because that''s really distinctive.... She's forgotten the hole in the back of her shirt. Well not really. The wings were still there, even if they couldn't be seen.]
It's best if you talk. I normally say the wrong thing.
[Questionable levels of charisma. ]
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...Mikasa might notice that he doesn't have the right amount of fingers. He has three, and a thumb.]
Spectacular, darling. You understand.
[With that, he beckons her forward. Into the village they go.]
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She squares her shoulders and time to deliver one boy.
Look the villagers were already coming out to meet them.]
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When they arrive with the boy, it's not Mikasa and Mettaton they fixate on. It's the boy. One of the men gasps. They have the crafter's son? How could that be?! Though some humans hiding behind houses brandish their weapons, this is a strange situation: they... aren't kidnapping, and that much is clear as crystal. Their pace is too slow, their path headed toward the village rather than away. What are these strange humans (?!?) doing? Are they Fae?
Mettaton smiles at Mikasa. The villagers are tense and wary, ready to strike if another does.]
Well. It's... going. [Not poorly, and not well. But they're not being attacked yet. He'll take his victory where he can, and he tilts his head enough so that she can see it when he winks at her this time.
...Then, the boy struggles in Mettaton's grip: the villagers prickle, and demand what they're doing with the boy. Just then, a horrible thing happens:
A mirror image of the boy in Mettaton's arm appears. A hushed silence falls over the villagers. Mettaton blinks, slowing.]
...Ah. ...Oh! [He smiles, excitement brimming. He's heard of this before!] These are "twins!" Look at that! Yes, we're reuniting these twin brothers, this one who we've rescued. And such a delight he is...
[The villagers... don't share in this excitement. They look upon the twins with hostility, a blend of fear and anger twisting in the air. Mettaton pauses.]
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She'd been expecting some hostility. They were new. And even without the changes and questionable illusions they'd have looked different. Acted different. The villagers dressed completely differently.
She can't return the wink. She's too busy pursing her lips, fingers twitching for her blades.
Oh...
Mikasa's tensing, putting a leg behind her to brace herself.]
I don't think he's from this village...
[It's a weak attempt at defending the boys. Obviously they've made a mistake. He's from somewhere else. Even if he looks exactly the same.
But then someones walking closer to them. Another is reaching for the other boy.]
...What are they doing?
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[Mettaton's shocked. He can almost feel his ears standing straight even when they're not there anymore. He lifts the boy and tries to hold him close, taking a sweeping step back like the performer he is.
Though he holds the human boy close (who still struggles, crying out now), the "human" boy living in the village is accosted by the villagers. One of them rams the iron head of their spear against his thigh, and he screams: to Mikasa and Mettaton, they can see how it burns his flesh. He's one of the Fae, disguised as a human...
Mettaton gawks.]
Oh my god. I think you have that backwards, darling!
[Seeing how he burns, the villagers all hiss and cry out. They're Fae! Burn them all!]
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I'm laughing these poor kids