faileas: (Default)
aefenglom log posting account ([personal profile] faileas) wrote in [community profile] dagung2021-03-06 12:25 pm
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☆ TDM: MARCH

Test Drive: March 2021

    Welcome to [community profile] 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. Aside from that, here are some quick reminders:

    The Application Queue is open. Applications run on a rolling queue system. The application page is always open to submissions, and applications will be processed in order of submission. Verdicts will always go out by the final week of a month, though we can't promise an exact date -- we'll get to them as quickly as we can throughout the month! If your application is submitted during the last week of a month, it may be rolled into next month's batch of applications. The application page can be found here.
    • We have a brand new Game World Wiki created with the immense help of our Wiki Bards: Noa, Prince, Maruah and Ran. Thank you so much! It's still being updated, but most of the main game info is there for you in an easily searchable manner. All other info can still also be found through our Navigation page!
    • 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!
    • For current characters, TDM threads can be used for AC.
    • And finally, since this is part of our event, characters already in-game ARE allowed to top-level on this post.

    With that taken care of...


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 Calamity


The taste of magic in the air is electric on your tongue, supercharged, bright, a little tart and fizzy like popping candy. The settlement you find yourself in is unfamiliar to you, but you can tell it is bustling, beautiful, a center of culture and activity for its bygone era. The architecture blooms with elaborately carved flourishes, but you cannot shake the feeling of... otherworldliness that it brings to mind. (Perhaps you are a veteran of these dreams and remember a ship with similar embellishments from far away, that came bearing invaders, in a time long ago.) It is nearly impossible to tell what season you find yourself in - pockets of spring bloom with new life, right next to pockets of winter snowstorms; playful fall winds laden with leaves tug at your hair, and in some spots, it feels hot and muggy like the middle of summer. None of these patches of seasonal mayhem are very large, a few city blocks’ worth at most, and they all butt up against each other, tumultuous, fighting for real estate in a place where the magic bubbles freely up through the ground like a wellspring, uncontrolled. In a way, it seems like a wilder version of Aefenglom’s seasons always being opposite the season in the Wilde, similar but more widespread, more disharmonic.



Fit to Burst
The settlement is bustling and full of that otherworldly architecture, spirals and tendrils and vaguely floral embellishments, except... If you look closer, you can see that only a few of the buildings are really made that way. An illusion covers the rest, purely cosmetic, a glamour; it's a shimmering image laid over reality until you look beneath it at the squat, simple houses made by mortal hands out of rough hewn wood or bricks of packed mud. The people are just as disparate as the buildings beneath it all - glittering-eyed Fae, taller, more elongated and insectoid than those seen around Aefenglom, though many of them use glamours to appear more fantastical and beautiful; humans teeming with magic, who use it freely for anything and everything; other bipedal Monsters with rougher, more bestial features than longtime residents might be used to, more in tune with their natural abilities.

It wouldn't be a bad idea to explore your new surroundings, though you're likely to garner attention. Unless the world you come from is a more medieval time period, your clothing, perhaps even your hair or other aspects of your appearance are likely to stand out. What will make you stand out even more, though, is not drawing on your abundant new magical powers, or strong new Monster abilities. That shop there requires flight to get up to the second story front door. That home down the street can only be unlocked with a burst of flame. Torches when it grows dark? No, don’t be ridiculous, you can't light your own way? Your hair looks hideous, darling, why haven’t you put on a glamour?

Reluctance to use these abilities abundantly and freely garners frowns of scrutiny and disapproval from those natives around you. "We're free here under the Fae folk. They've taught us so much, we never go hungry, we’re never beaten down by the weather." Their words hold truth - their twisted-trunk trees are bursting with fruit, their haphazardly laid out crops flourish in a matter of days rather than a season, rain and snow can be directed at will with just an application of the wild, free magic bubbling up from the ground in rivers.

There is a hierarchy in this settlement. The Fae are above all, and can often be found partying into the night with sweet wine and hallucinogenic mushrooms, teaching humans and Monsters to harness their natural talents and the magic of the land by day. Their attitudes are condescending toward these lesser beings they’ve granted their favor to (including you, now, and aren’t you just the most interesting, darling little things?), delighting in spreading their knowledge. The humans and Monsters still seem awestruck by their benevolent masters - a word they mean in the sense of 'teachers' - accepting their gifts, using their magic, and none of them will so much as whisper a complaint. Not when it’s safe here. Not when all is well.

It's more than they can say for the lands outside of their paradise, even if things do happen here that the Fae do not like to hear them speak of.

Gain the trust of the natives, and you might hear rumors, whispers of a rotting pox hitting other communities far from here, or first hand accounts of how so-and-so witnessed another death just last week, a human woman blew up in town, and some of the Monsters, they been goin’ right bestial. Shh, shh, you didn’t hear it from them! (Don’t let the Fae catch you gossiping. They might just take you and the native both aside, whisper in your ears, let the magic wind its way around your brain until you don't remember any longer what you were talking about or even who you are, where you come from. You were having a good time though, right?)

You can try to leave the settlement, to explore the woods that surround it, but you’re likely to be noticed and warned: "You should stay here, make sure you don’t run into any of the unfriendly locals - they don't care for our masters."


The Emergence
Time passes strangely in a dream. It might feel like a handful of hours, or even a few days, before a change can be felt all throughout the strange, unsettling paradise. If you’ve had a recent brush with it in the waking world, you might recognize the signature of it - the Cwyld. Something in the air feels very wrong, like a chill in the middle of summer, a sudden warm wind in winter; the plant life beneath your very feet begins to blacken in color, with near-indiscernible white lines marring their surfaces, and no matter who you are, no matter the pride you may take in your courage, a shiver raises every hair on your body without fail: Something wicked this way comes.

The wellspring of magical energy flowing like a river beneath your feet takes on a new feeling when you try to draw from it, a dark and heavy sensation, oily and creeping. Reaching for the magic, it feels as though you're reaching into hollow darkness, dried up and consumed, and the disparate plants of different seasons, growing alongside each other, begin to bulge grotesquely and burst, splattering an unknown black substance over anything unfortunate enough to be in the splash zone. Possibly even you. Don't pass under the fruit trees. The infection has seeped into the overtapped leyline, and it bleeds through the settlement quickly, much quicker than it seems to move in the current-day waking world. The plant life, with their roots dug deep into the earth, are only the first casualty, as it spreads rapidly to the animals, and then the natives, blackening and tainting everything it touches.

The village is thrown into chaos. Fae and any who seem to have Dragon in them are the first to show signs of infection, blackened veins visible under paling skin and white film growing over the eyes. Bodies grow brittle and twisted the more it spreads and settles in. Humans with an abundance of magic are the next to lose themselves to it, quickly followed by other Monsters. While in the waking world, infection spreads more slowly, here, it can be almost instantaneous, the process of becoming a Shade, losing all sense of self.

They have no resistance to the Cwyld, and in this dream, neither do you. You're just as susceptible to the infection, and some may find themselves succumbing to the infection spreading to the heart and pumping itself through their veins. Becoming a Shade is a painful experience, a painful existence, as the life is snuffed out of you and your body keeps going. In this dream, you might be lucky (or unlucky) enough to keep your wits about you, to remain sentient and somewhat yourself - or you might become one of the mindless, violent many whose only directive is to spread the Cwyld to everything that lives, including your fellow dreamers. Even if you do stay aware of yourself, it is hard to resist the pull of the Cwyld on your mind, urging you to spread and infect, to leave nothing whole and living.

Before your eyes, the settlement begins to die. You can't help anyone who is already infected, even if you know healing spells that work in the waking world, unless you're willing to put them out of their misery before they become a Shade corrupted beyond all assistance. You might be busier trying to save your fellow Mirrorbound, though, as they try to avoid that fate themselves or fall prey to it in front of you.

And while the earth and plants and people around them turn black and fall to ruin, any of the Fae who managed to remain untainted simply flee, running from the settlement without stopping to help anyone in need, not even the students who so looked up to them.

Note: Becoming a Shade in this prompt is optional, and Mirrorbound Shades may keep their minds or not at player discretion! Infection will not carry over out of the dream. Dying in the dream will put your character back at the edge of the village, uninfected and alive again, to witness the rest of its downfall.


Light It Up
Help comes in an unexpected, unwanted form. Those unfriendly locals the residents of this village spoke of previously appear through the morning mists, shrouded in clumsy protections like masks and gloves, and practical, non-flashy spells. The group is made up of grim-faced humans and Monsters, a surprisingly cohesive unit of people who look out for each other as they make their way through the woods with torches held aloft. They are hardier than those indulged, magic-glutted folks who suffer now. These newcomers are dressed more practically, for working land or fighting battles, but they, too, have humans among them who can harness their magic. Their witches keep their torches lit, and work closely with their Monsters, helping each other in a way that will not feel unfamiliar.

They've come today, they'll say if you get a chance to speak with them, however briefly (they're a little busy to answer too many questions), to try and stop this blight on the land before it can reach their village, some miles to the south. They've seen it before, though never this severe. This Cwyld will spread and spread, until there is nothing left.

Best to burn it all down before its tendrils creep too far, before its roots dig too deep.

They fight and destroy the Shades however they can, showing no mercy, though their spells are crude and simple, and their Monsters use their natural forms without any showy abilities, depending on claws and teeth and strength to do their jobs. Working together, with simple weapons in their hands, they are formidable. Even if you kept your mind, kept your speech, they will not let you live if you were infected - and may not let you live even if you weren’t infected, just to be safe. You may join them, if you wish, help them burn down the blackened trees or even Shades that were once people - or you may fight them, but they won't relent. They burn the whole settlement down, leaving wide patches of scorched earth like blackened scars on the land. It’s the only way, they say, from their limited experience. Everything must return to the earth.

As the settlement goes up in flames fully, they retreat, only remaining long enough to ensure the fire stays where it needs to stay, and will not spread to uninfected forest. For those of you who were completely uninfected and may have thus been spared, they are still unwelcoming and will not allow you to travel back to their own village with them, threatening with swords and flames any who are too insistent. They aren't too keen to talk, but you may get a few answers out of them, the basics - some of their parents originally lived here, learned magic from the Fae, though when they saw the dangers, they left, believing that such power should be used more sparingly, more responsibly. Against the Fae, if at all possible, and against their destructive ways. It was just a matter of time, they thought, until calamity struck, and lo.

You just saw what happens, what that much magic can call down in divine retribution. How magic itself fights back against the excesses of those who would abuse it.

wiedzminka: (twenty-five.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 07:23 am (UTC)(link)
Then fucking get in there and cut its head off, if you're so smart!

[ Ciri snaps back without even looking at him, and without answering his first question. She dodges one of the flailing hooves with a roll, and unfurls like a striking cobra, sword-first. The leg goes flying. Ciri doesn't stop moving, ducking around its opposite side to avoid the spray of black. ]

Just don't get any of that blood on you.
gynvael: (012)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-03-10 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
Do you. [ It's said flatly, though he doesn't press for a real answer. This whole thing is giving him a fucking headache.

He wishes he had so little of a heart, he could simply walk away and be done with her. He doesn't know her, after all. She's not the young girl he had been searching for, not the one he'd thought might have needed him. She seems perfectly capable of handling herself.

But he doesn't. So he's still here, for all the good it seems to be doing. ]


Therianthrope. [ A shifter, or what the world calls Turnskins. But he thinks, if she has been raised by...some version of him, she would find that term most familiar. ]

The magic is tied directly to the land. [ He stops beneath some overhanging branches. It might be best to stay here for the night. There's no telling what other settlements are out there, consumed by the Cwyld. Nor how many other hunting parties looking to burn it all down.

There's a small pause, before he adds, ]
I was on my way to Kaer Morhen. [ That he never made it doesn't need to be said. ]
wiedzminka: (four.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 07:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ If it was anyone but Yennefer, she might have thought with some hope that one of the Fae had probably cursed her, scrambled her memory like she'd heard someone else complaining about in hushed voices around the village. But she can't imagine Yennefer of all people could actually be victim to such a spell, even from powerful magical creatures in a dream. Not even when that would be easier to swallow.

Several more heartbeats pass in silence. Ciri swallows, feeling suddenly small, like the little girl she'd been when she'd first laid eyes on the raven-haired sorceress in the temple -- and disliked her on sight, as she recalls. It would have been an amusing memory on another occasion.

Finally, she replies, with a lingering edge of sadness but with conviction. Whatever is happening, they can fix it. ]


It's Ciri.
wiedzminka: (twenty-three.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 07:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ She doesn't answer any unspoken questions either. But there is recognition in her face when he specifies what he is, and she nods slightly, pretending to understand more than she does about what he means regarding the magic. It had turned him because he'd stepped through a portal? Why? And how? Geralt's not the only one developing a headache.

When Geralt stops, she opens her mouth to ask if they should stay here for the night, noticing it's a fairly clear patch of forest floor with decent cover above--

But his next words seem to pull the breath right out from her lungs before she can get a word out. Her eyes widen briefly, shining in the darkness, before she suddenly looks away.

I lost you. In Cintra.

And how much time had passed after that? She tries to make it fit in her memory, tries to make sense of what it means and can only come up with one answer: time. There are worlds upon worlds, and moments upon moments of time. Endless, ever-turning, grains of sand all individual and connected. It's the conclusion she came to some time ago but didn't want to admit to herself, hoping there was some explanation that tied Geralt to this world instead, that ended differently, that didn't push her toward the inevitable understanding that settles like a stone in her stomach.

Her throat feels like a desert. She expects the words to come out cracked and shaking, but they don't. Only quiet, without rancor. It isn't a question. ]


...without me.
wiedzminka: (seven.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 08:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ Something tells her to listen to him -- or not listen to him, as it were. This is all new to Ciri (these aren't quite the Monsters she's used to) but she knows enough not to waste time arguing in a situation like this. Besides, it's not like she's being asked to close her eyes too.

She covers her ears, holding her sword a bit awkwardly to accomplish the task but definitely not about to let go of it. If things go south, she's confident she can move fast enough regardless.

The villagers similarly waste no time hesitating, though with an entirely different goal. Several of them are already raising crossbows, and one of the Turnskins, partially shifted, lunges toward Lio.

Ciri's sword-hand twitches, but she manages to restrain herself. For now. ]
wiedzminka: (twenty-nine.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 08:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, of course he did. She probably already knew that, but she's so cross with him it isn't even funny. Considering the situation, she suddenly quite dislikes being called my dear too. ]

Resent it all you want, but call me dear that condescendingly again and you'll regret it.

Being in another world is one thing -- I get that part -- but you really don't remember me?

Dammit, Jaskier. You have magic, you don't even know who I am, and next you'll tell me you're famous for ballet instead of ballads!
benedicus: (86.)

[personal profile] benedicus 2021-03-10 09:39 am (UTC)(link)
( the bigger concern is absolutely what was in store for him next. this much is only a dream or a nightmare depending on the way it's looked at, but the waking up part would be quite real.

aziraphale lets out a quiet whuff of a laugh. )


It is temporary, indeed. I can assure you of that much.

( not much else, however. more importantly, he feels he should help this young man get the gist of what's happening here. )

I apologise for the abrupt question, but you wouldn't happen to have read anything pertaining to faefolk before, have you? Or seen them in those moving pictures?
cryptsleeper: (impale with great prejudice)

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2021-03-10 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)
No, I'm going to take a bath in infected blood!

[Alucard's happy to show that he can multitask - being an asshole and doing more than chopping off limbs. There's a low snarl as he considers the movement of the creature, and how the flying leg is likely to impact the thing from here on out.

It bows low, trying to sort out how to balance on three legs and being in great pain. There's a bellow, the head moves just enough to expose an artery and--

--there.

The dhampir mutters something, boosting his speed. (He still hates having to rely on magic to replace the natural abilities he lost in becoming a Witch here.) His sword's edge finds purchase in the neck, but there's always the threat of blood spray in such a movement.

No threat this time. It happens as Alucard draws a line across the thing's throat. He calls no warning, he only assumes sense.]
umbravore: (Do you still believe in one another?)

[personal profile] umbravore 2021-03-10 02:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[Listen, if it's evil for the sake of good then doesn't that cancel it out or something?

Against all natural reactions, she can't help but grin when he gives a whistle. Something sharp and a little bit wild. Not out of any masochistic tendencies but there's some pride to be had for her resilience, especially acknowledgment coming from a big guy like Fjord. She's no Magnus Burnsides but she'd like to think of herself as a tough motherfucker in her own right. Not just because of her magical prowess, but she's stubbornly clawed her way back from death enough times to make her hands bloody. It's second nature by now.

But she really does hope that this whole magic thing works out, because this hurts like a bitch.
]

So what's your name, big guy? [Conversationally, even as the familiar glow of healing magic gathers under his hand and she can feel her wounds stitching shut little by little. She looks down to see the holes in her tunic still there, and there's still a mess of blood, but the skin has been stitched together, bleeding stemmed.]

Dang, so this is what it's like to have a healer on the team. [Merle.] I don't suppose you have a mending spell up your sleeve too, huh?
umbravore: (Hey sister)

[personal profile] umbravore 2021-03-10 02:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[Oh, did I mention that Lup has a badass, colorful umbrella with her? Because she does. Leaning against the table next to her, like she's ready in case it starts... raining inside?

Fortunately, Lup likes enthusiasm and wild stories even moreso. So basically Jester is right up her alley, and she grins nodding along with the story. When the description is finished, she leans back, stretching her arms back behind her head, casually.
]

He's your best friend? That sounds pretty kickass. Can't say I've ever met him though. [Hmm,] But let me do you one better: Have you ever met a talking mongoose? And I'm not talking any 'speak-with-animals' bullshit.

[Basically as cool as an archfey, right?]
hearthebell: (You came on like a punch in the heart)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-03-10 04:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[Uncertainty wanders through L's expression, near-realization without quite making the connection. Both of them believe they are being kinder like this. Myr, by offering a companion to hold a hand, hear final words, ease the burden of passing, and L, by hiding his death like an indiscretion, a last secret handled as privately as possible. Even as a shade, had he felt that would be best? He's still not sure if someone had slain him, or the Cwyld had just run its course quickly in his sparse, anemic flesh. Given the rapidness of its onset, different from when he'd been infected at the Circle gathering, he realizes that both are possible.

Regardless, Myr is saddened for not having been there. Myr, also, had presumably died alone, and the thought had not occurred to L or troubled him prior to this moment. Why? Does he just take it so fully for granted that he'll certainly die before Myr, as he had the night before?

A conversation they must have, surely... just not right now. It demands a centerpiece's position, and not the injustice of a mere side mention.]


I hadn't thought of it that way.

[Maybe he'd started to, with Myr so often at his side. He's fallen out of the habit lately, thought of it more in his old terms. Dividing oneself that way made one more structurally unsound. From the moment L arrived here and allied himself with the SQUIP, and others since, his integrity has faltered and flickered. Though he's part of a larger army (he has had help, after all, in moments he couldn't have handled alone even at his strongest), his identity is tied up with so many others, now. He's given away those pieces, or had them taken from him, and what has he done to Myr, in that regard? How willingly were those pieces given to him?

He glances up, as he did in Aefenglom many years in this dream's future, over a year ago in the waking world's past. It's daylight, and overcast; there are no sharp, clear stars that lift his feet from the ground, creating an alarming situation that just may have forced a kind hand.]


I don't know what others give me willingly, or what I've just taken, or manipulated my way into getting. If I want something... my motives are probably selfish.

[How much does he actually want to help Myr? Is it actually bound up in wanting to master some coveted skill for his own sake, increase his own value and indispensability to others?

He knows that he wants to take Myr's hands. He also knows that he would want to keep taking until both of them were hurt, because that is just what he does.

Go? I think you should wake up... but it's not his dream. This isn't his domain. They're both here until this plays out to some conclusion.]


hearthebell: (I might only have one match)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-03-10 05:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[So many things that L was worried about have just come to fruition. He'd predicted, hadn't he, that even if he wasn't real to Mello, just a child's memory of one conversation with a man he didn't know, all of that would change when they met again. No matter how frail and shabby he appeared, or disgraceful or difficult the circumstances, L was something unreachable stricken from the sky and improbably made accessible.

He sighs. He'd wanted, so much, to avoid this, but here they are. Here they go, and he has to try to pretend that his body isn't already responding as if to a threat. His heart beats faster; his breath is still even and steady, but it's a conscious process, to counter the awareness that it wants to be tense and shallow.]


I'm glad that you didn't. Truly.

[Not then, at least. Mello's death perhaps began that day, culminating in the end of a key chapter in the case that had killed both of them. All a matter of semantics and perspective.]

I'm sorry.

[For all that happened. For much that likely will, now that Mello has found him through no fault or intention of his own.]
wiedzminka: (twenty-five.)

emergence.

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 07:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Ciri had also been attempting to help the Faun, rushing toward them when she noticed the individual had fallen in their flight-- but she's grabbed before she can get close enough and summarily yanked back with surprising strength. She doesn't take it well.

"Unhand me!" Ciri snarls, attempting to jerk her arm free and shove away the person holding her. Just then, the plant explodes, and the strange catlike creature seems to barely avoid the black spray as well, retreating as the ichor covers the poor Faun.

Its form begins to darken and twist unnaturally almost immediately, oily shadows covering fur and wrapping around horns and hooves. It howls, a shrill and piercing cry of terror and pain. And hunger.


(( ooc: feel free to experiment with witch or monster in our thread as you wish! ciri is technically a monster but doesn't have the changes, so she'd just look human. ))
galasvar: why am I filling these slots when I'm just gonna spam the default (Default)

[personal profile] galasvar 2021-03-10 09:32 pm (UTC)(link)
[Means, ends, et cetera... Odds are of all people, he couldn't rightly judge.

She seems like a tough motherfucker, given her very brusque approach to bleeding out so far, and he appreciates that. There's something kind of inexplicably comforting about it. As such, he's become increasingly less worried about her keeling over on him—both as he gets the measure of her and as he feels the spell start to take. (It seems to work as expected, which is a relief. It still feels wrong, which ought to worry him. But he'll unpack that all later, when there's time for it.)

So, his air of very carefully maintained calm kind of eases off a bit to something a little less manufactured. He shakes his head, when she fishes for a mending spell. Nope. He's a paladin, not a cleric, regretfully. And he hasn't been around this weird-ass dream long enough to realize that maybe that doesn't matter so much here.

Helpfully, if a little distracted by what he's doing—
]

You might just want to finish the job. Open it up some more, make it a whole thing.

[Crop top! Abs-out is more of a monk look, though, huh. (Or is it just a Beau look, what does he know.) She could pull it off, surely.

This is probably not a serious suggestion. Given the messy slash in her tunic and his current low perspective crouched at her navel, he does very politely keep his eyes locked on what he's doing rather than try to look up at her when he says it. (Just, y'know. In case.) He peels his bloody fingers away from the slash in her side and frowns at the progress made on that front. Bleeding seems to have stopped, even if it's not quite healed through yet.

And, a little belatedly—
]

It's Fjord. [His name.] And yourself?
gynvael: (057)

[personal profile] gynvael 2021-03-10 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Her anger and annoyance is preferable. He's not ever been able to figure out what it means, either -- not only for the girl, but for himself. It'd be far easier to accept had the people who recalled him did so with a deep dislike or fear. A typical reaction to a Witcher who's passed through. But they hadn't. Not once, in his time on this world, has he met anyone who didn't tell him he did something important.

Ciri, too, seems to remember him with fondness. And he hasn't got any idea what to do with that information.

A few moments of silence pass. Geralt gathers up some tinder, a clear indication he means to camp here. At least for the time being. He's already prepared to abandon it should the fires spread any closer. ]


You were... [ He hesitates. He places the wood carefully into a pile. Every explanation sounds like an excuse. I couldn't find you. Cintra was ashes. The horses were gone. Mousesack was missing. Your grandmother threw herself out the fucking window. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he should've tried harder, looked harder. (Because isn't that what's dug under his skin for years and years? That his mother had never even tried?) ]

I should've come sooner.
wiedzminka: (twenty-two.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-10 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ciri watches him for a short while without moving, lost in thought, before she seems to realize what he's doing and steps forward. ]

That monster got you good. Rest a minute. I'll gather wood.

[ Some part of her is afraid to ask. If it is as he says and she'd really died in Cintra--

But once again, it doesn't quite match up. He says just enough to confuse and frighten her, but not enough to explain either one way or the other, to dispel her fears or confirm them.

Finally, Ciri decides to straighten out the truth and get what really happened out of him. ]


Tell me what happened, Geralt.

After the fall of Cintra until you went through that portal. Everything, please.
onamissile: (to die~)

[personal profile] onamissile 2021-03-10 11:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[And what did Mello expect? L has always been an absent figure, with the exception of one time where he gave Mello enough information to write a fucking book, but that wasn't for Mello, was it?]

[No. Never was. The blonde thought differently in the beginning, considered hanging it over his rival's head — L, saw me, you little shit. — but nothing was ever revealed until his fingers touched the keys of that laptop, and even then — ]

[Nothing was ever revealed, was it? Only what his then-mentor specifically wanted him to know. As nothing will be revealed now. Mello has knowingly adopted some of L's methods: people are told what they need to know.]

[And from their last reaction? All Mello needs to know is that he's to stay away for reasons unknown to him.]


I didn't look for you.

[Let that be known, at least. And yet: here they are.]

[His teeth are digging into his bottom lip enough to draw blood. Should he just turn and walk away? How can he? What does L fucking expect?. No. Instead. He stands rigid. Ready for whatever L is prepared to dish out at him (or nothing at all.) His spine straightens; Mello lifts his head finally to face his ex-mentor directly. Whatever the reason is that L has dismissed him before now: he's done nothing.]


I would've been fine if I never saw you again. [A blatant lie.] I accepted that you were gone a long time ago.
Edited 2021-03-10 23:42 (UTC)
umbravore: (Do you still believe in love I wonder?)

[personal profile] umbravore 2021-03-11 12:18 am (UTC)(link)
[She just chuckles at the suggestion. Crop tops are never in, Fjord. Oh well. It looks like she'll just have to find a tailor, or have a go at patching it together herself when she can. For now, she just will have to leave it be.]

Nice name. Thanks for the healing, Fjord. The name's Lup.

[Like "loop". Her red cloak is picked up off of the ground and she lifts it to inspect it, brushing some of the dust off of it. There's a blue patch on the breast of it, emblazoned with four letters: IPRE. Unimportant, really.

She shrugs it back on, and picks up the umbrella. It's a gaudy thing, made of bright colors and a hook at the handle which she loops (ha) around her wrist.
]

Say, you didn't happen to see any other elves out there did you? Specifically any ones that look exactly like me?
hearthebell: (Everybody knows the dice are loaded)

[personal profile] hearthebell 2021-03-11 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
I know.

[An answer that comes quickly, covers all that Mello has said. He is aware that they're dreaming, and choosing who they encounter isn't always possible. In fact, the forces that be might favor irony in how such things are arranged; L's been here long enough to at least dryly entertain the notion.

He knows that Mello would have been fine if he'd never seen L again, even if Mello doesn't believe the words himself. He knows that Mello either accepted his death, or should have, but now...

Breathe slow; breathe deep. You're sleeping, after all.]


Malakai Antonov. That's your name, isn't it?

[Asked neutrally, with bland, polite interest, as though this is truly the first time they're meeting. As though a child hadn't worshiped him, as though that child hadn't grown up to strike him and tighten furious fingers around his throat, as though that child hasn't returned now to threaten L's carefully maintained peace with Light Yagami.]

I'm Linden Tailor. I'm a witch, and a private investigator. I tutor at the orphanage on a volunteer basis.

[The sharp, intelligent eyes that hold Mello's gaze are the same as he'd remember, down to the wan darkness ringing them. The story he tells in introducing himself is very different, however, and serves a purpose. Whoever he was, whatever he did, this is his life, now. Some version of it has been for nearly two years.

Don't threaten it, is the unspoken implication. Don't pretend that we aren't strangers, just now meeting... because Mello may have forgotten his last time in Aefenglom, but L can only wish for the same.]
trynotdying: (Default)

[personal profile] trynotdying 2021-03-11 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
[Be wary of your words, because Hypnos will launch into everything, and keep going long after the poor listener has drifted off to sleep.]

The name's Hypnos, Sleep Incarnate. Son of Night, Brother of Death.

[It's novel, people not knowing him just from his name, but he's gotten enough blank stares here to give that extra explanation.]

Greeting new arrivals and writing up reports about them is my job in the waking world, and I've been trying to do better at my job so Lord Hades doesn't fire me. I figured I can't get harder working than literally doing my job in my sleep!
wiedzminka: (sixteen.)

[personal profile] wiedzminka 2021-03-11 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ Ciri scoffs audibly, annoyed, but doesn't waste her breath bickering further at the moment. The Shade is lilting right toward him, and she's already sliding out of the way.

No warning is needed; after telling him the exact same thing, Ciri is sure to be well out of the way of any blood.

The problem is, unfortunately, that more Shades area already rushing in to replace the beast that falls in the lake of its own black blood with a dull thud and a fading scream.

Ciri tightens her grip on her sword's hilt with both hands and faces toward the next wave of monsters. ]


Incoming.
cryptsleeper: (arrogantpire)

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2021-03-11 01:55 am (UTC)(link)
[Alucard says nothing as the thing falls. His eyes instead snap up, considering where his sudden comrade currently is. Far enough away, that'll be enough.

Incoming, she says, and Alucard's eyes move to the direction. There's a soft noise, and then consideration for their surroundings. There's a stone wall to the young woman's right. There's an idea.]


See if you can direct them that way. [He tips his head in the wall's direction.] I'll be waiting, and we can close in on them from two sides once that's done.
torchwoodteaboy: (alright yes but)

[personal profile] torchwoodteaboy 2021-03-11 02:06 am (UTC)(link)
[What can he say? Ianto has always been an overachiever.

He isn't certain whether the other man wants his help, but given the alternative of standing by idly while he does all of the work... Ianto steps forward and plucks up a relatively decent couple of sticks himself, buying himself a moment to think as he does.]


Ah. Right. Well. It's more... What questions don't I have.

[He glances aside at the other man warily.] I suppose I might ask what to call you, for starters. [Other than wolf-man.] And. This Cwyld you mentioned. Just. What is that, exactly?
torchwoodteaboy: (eyebrow raise well)

[personal profile] torchwoodteaboy 2021-03-11 02:41 am (UTC)(link)
[Ianto raises an eyebrow at the question, as much because of the mention of "moving pictures" as because of the question itself.]

I, ehm. Is that common? To have encountered such folk before -- here?

[He takes a moment to collect himself as he considers it, before shaking his head.]

Never mind that. As a matter of fact, I've encountered similar creatures before. Though they were somewhat less...

[He waves a hand around them before continuing:] Whimsical as this. And a great deal more vicious.
turmoiling: (pic#13851613)

[personal profile] turmoiling 2021-03-11 03:59 am (UTC)(link)
[Even though he said to stay back, Jin Guangyao starts crawling forward towards Fjord, just a couple jerky pushes more than any kind of coordinated slithering now, pushed more by the Cwyld's beginning encroachment on his mind than any conscious decision.

How much can be said, to someone unaware of the unique state they're in?]


Yes. Any witch can learn to do it, as long as it isn't too far along. Tell me, have you tried to perform the magic of this world?

[It's a desperate, last-ditch spark of inspiration. The fellow might not even be a witch. But he has to try -- and certainly he's watched others do it before. How hard can it be to lead an attempt?

Quite hard. But what else is there?]

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