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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. |
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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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One moment Mikasa's stood slightly behind Mettaton.
Then she's gone.
Diving into the crowd, wings breaking through the illusion. Her gear propelling her quicker than her wings could. If the villagers weren't freaking out before, they were now. Adult fae! Instead of working against her, Mikasa's weight helps. No one wants to get in the way of that. Not at the speed she's moving.
The vaguely eye-like marks on the fluttering wings probably didn't help.
In any case. The humans were scattering. The ones with weapons moving around to circle them. Trap them in. Mikasa was crouching over the boy. Wings and antenna flickering.]
We need to move!
[Oh great now the 'human' boy is crying too. Confused and afraid as his village turns against him. Being saved by someone who shouldn't have been saving him.]
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She urges him to move. Just like he ordered back in the Fae encampment. His nature says to stop them from surrounding her at all costs, but she trusted him, and he'll place the same trust in her. He nods, resolute, frowning.]
Hurry up, then! [He grips onto the boy, springing away from danger and back a great distance — still maintaining his human form, but performing acrobatic feats a human shouldn't be capable of. He'll be able to outrun them with ease — but how about Mikasa?] Looks like we're performing a double rescue!!
[Kidnapping. Same thing.]
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The villagers are torn. They want to stop her. But the blade and quick movements made them pause. Until one's running out with a torch.
By that point Mikasa's already taking off. She couldn't get a lot of air. And it makes her sweat with effort. But she's up and moving, just out of reach and it's enough to get over the surrounding humans. Then she has to run.
Not all of the humans follow, but some do...]
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He reconvenes with Mikasa — a human held against his shoulder, and a Fae under her arm. They look completely identical, but the Fae boy bleeds from his leg.]
They won't want to chase us forever... All they care about is that we're gone. [He glances down at the two.] I wonder why they tried to hurt both of them. I know they dislike the Fae, but... This one's human.
[It's a sad case either way, but it doesn't make sense to Mettaton.]
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Mikasa glances at him when he appears at her side. Then it's back to watching where she's going.]
They didn't want to risk it. I've seen it before.
[The Warriors. Eren back when they'd first found out he could turn into a titan. The people in his trial had even wanted her dissected as well. Just because she'd defended him.]
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Demotivated, Mettaton slows some.]
I was sure they'd be thankful. Not murderous.
[Intent isn't everything. Face the music: they took two kids from their familiar lives, and now neither of them have anything left. He looks to Mikasa.]
You thought so too, right...?
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I thought they would have been relived to see him again, if he was abducted.
[Not that she'd know. When she'd been taken there'd been no one to return to.]
I doubt one of the other villagers would take them.
[That left the fae settlement. It'd be safer than the wilderness. But...]
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Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad. But the subjugation doesn't sit well with him. He chews on his lower lip, an absentminded tick he's picked up since developing long Puca incisors.]
For now, we can look after them. Right? [He manages a smile. However much good that does them. They'll have to wake up sooner or later. The human boy seems increasingly sad, the longer he's away from the complicated safety of his adoptive family and whimsical masters.] Yes! It couldn't be too difficult!
[Oh! Is it apparent that Mettaton's very out of touch with this kind of thing?]
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[Mikasa had looked after people in dangerous situations before. Granted, then there'd at least been places they could have gone to rest.
Getting food would be another issue. It was sad and she hated it, but the boys would slow them down. They didn't have horses to outpace the animals.
There hadn't been any smiles from Mikasa before, but now the frown was constant. ]
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I don't know. For me... I'll wake up when they come to fetch me from my cell. [A pause. He's looking forward, then back to Mikasa.] For you... You might be here for a while, until you cross your mirror.
[When he was in Mikasa's position, how long did he remain in that odd dreamworld...? He realizes that time really didn't feel like it happened, even when he had the distinct impression of it lasting forever. He mingled with raging forest fires and zombie-like nymphs for so long, yet it's already become so hazy and short.]
All I know is that I'll be leaving you before you wake. [A bitter smile.] Sorry, beautiful.
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Mikasa wasn't sure how to treat it. The blood would draw things in. But she didn't have anything that they could use to clean and bandage it. Not even her sleeve could have been used. ]
I'm not sure what you mean. I wasn't near any mirrors.
[Both here and before she turned up. It had been her and Armin on a roof surrounded by dust as the walls fell. Then the forest.]
Will you know when you're running out of time? [It'd be bad if he vanished while carrying the boy. They needed a timeframe to plan where they'd go from here.
This is feeling less and less like a dream. An urgency was there, like there normally was.]
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So many questions... And such little time. I do love hearing your voice, during the rare opportunities I get... [Time that he wastes by being flowery.] You won't remember a mirror, of course. The mirror's what we call the object you pass through... during arriving! You'll know what I mean soon enough.
[With his free hand, he waves the air. Difficult subject, she'll have to see it with her own eyes, so on.]
But you ask a good question. One I'm not so sure about! Whether or not I'll—
[And he's gone. Sure enough, the boy he was carrying gasps through the beginnings of his tears, and drops to the ground. So much for time to plan. Mikasa's all on her own, with two children near tears and one who's unfortunately fallen from his perch over six feet in the air.]
I'm laughing these poor kids
Kinda...patting the boy on the shoulder. Come on.
It's okay.
Maybe...]