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☆ TDM: MARCH
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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. 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.With that taken care of...
• 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.
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.
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. |
no subject
[As does Mello. So why can't he just play along?]
[Because this is L. Because this is a person he'd in which he's put in more stock than Near ever did. His expression doesn't soften. His hands don't loosen at his sides.]
[Despite his independence, Mello has always been a soldier, hasn't he?]
[And so — ]
What do you want me to do?
[And he'll do it. Whether he likes it or not.]
no subject
He finds that he can’t, and sighs quietly.]
You have a new life in Aefenglom. Live it, however you see fit to do so. You have a right to a fresh start.
[In spite of what happened between them. In spite of what Mello took and trampled. L’s grace and generosity deserve reciprocity, and so after a beat, he adds]
I have that right, as well.
no subject
So — what.
[What, indeed.
You want me to just walk away from you?
[Mello: the eternal soldier. It's degrading, at best.]
At least tell me what I did.
[Inquisitive. Demanding. Because he wants to know, and no one else can tell him. Not from L's perspective, at least.]
I'll accept it. Only if you tell me.
[If his mentor wants him out of his sight, what else can Mello do?]
no subject
It's not that I mean to play coy.
[Even if he's good at it.]
Your right to a new life means that you should be unburdened by what happened in your past here, that you have no memory of. Alex doesn't know, and neither does Eli.
[Don't make me say it.]
It's tightly contained and doesn't ever need to be acknowledged again, by anyone. I'm content with that; I want to make a gift of its continued containment, to you.
[A parting gift, implicitly.]
no subject
You were lost to me. [Pause. A long pause.] To all of us.
[Even if he was the only one who gave a shit.]
Are you telling me to walk away from that, Linden?
[If the name on his tongue sounds mocking, it's because it is. Mello's always been one to challenge.]
no subject
I'm telling you to find or create something that's yours, Malakai. A witch with your driven nature has no shortage of opportunities in this place.
[No shortage, so long as Mello is not looking for a friend, a father, or a lover in L. It's the boundary he's drawn, and though Mello may be volatile, and determined, those things come from L at least in part, don't they?]
no subject
[Mello understands. He nods, solemn.]
I can make it on my own.
[A childish statement, if nothing else. Perhaps even a bit indignant. L was dead and Mello fought his war. Died for it, even. Whether or not it was a selfish endeavor is irrelevant.]
[And he looks at L with a rebellious, near-childish expression.]
I'm gonna make it out of here.
[Wherever here is. Dream or no; they're surrounded by a threat. Maybe he's just putting his foot down, maybe he's looking for reassurance.]
no subject
For now, it's a boon, at least, that the L Mello idolized is one that he will listen to.]
Yes... yes, you will.
[Reassurance, at least, he can give. It helps that he actually does believe it.]
Find a Bond as soon as you can. A monster will be the most stabilizing presence.
[The monster; it could only be "Eli."]
no subject
[Well. The dynamics are different, aren't they? Besides, he's no longer the firecracker boy with entitlement issues. Something bad happened here, and Linden isn't offering up the information freely.]
[So Mello will prod. To an extent.]
It's true, yea?
[More of a demand to his tone than hesitance. He takes a step forward. Just one.]
We were Bonded the last time I was here?
[M can't even imagine it. It seems... profane, to say the least.]
no subject
He stands his ground. For Mello to have heard that he's afraid of something, and to observe that he is, are two very different things.]
It's true.
[Cool, minimal confirmation. No need to provide details that weren't even asked for. He also can't openly assume that Mello wants one again, or prematurely offer up reasons why they cannot Bond this time, under any circumstances.
He'll offer up one piece of information unasked for, though, to see what Mello makes of it.]
You'd come from a point, before...
[He raises a hand, brushing his own cheekbone, indicating the scarred face across from him.]
no subject
[Stay the fuck away from me. Not verbatim, but it might as well have been. Thin lips are downturned, but Mello won't glance away. He can't. He's always tried to appear so strong for L. Why should that change now?]
I was different, then.
[Now? He's been humbled a bit. Even if it was by his own actions and Kira's filthy hands. He won't move closer: this would clearly be perceived as a threat and is overall a bad idea. So he stands his ground, but yet — ]
I know you're secretive. [Comes with the job, really.] But if you know anything about me, you'll know that I'll learn the details, eventually.
[One way or another.]
There's a chance that I'll receive false information, yea?
[A likely chance.]
I'd rather it come from you. [As painful as it might be. For both of them.]
Tell me. And I'll walk away. Promise.
[And L should know that promises mean nothing at all.]
no subject
His mouth turns upward in a helpless, odd half-smile. Laughing it off; no big deal.]
Very essentially, we had a disagreement.
[Technically, true.]
It became a physical altercation...
[Also true. Look for the lie; you can't see it, can you, even if my lungs are half their normal size and I have to breathe faster?
Something between a crooked, awkward grin and a cringing wince. Such an odd expression; completely honest in tone and feeling, a grab-bag of uncertain features.]
You... really hurt me. Badly.
[This one's harder, because this whole time, that is something he's denied Myr and Niles. He's minimized the damage done, and he tries to balance that now. The damage was physical, nothing more, and his concern is only for that perfectly sanitized passion to once more come to a head. It explains his reticence; it explains why his limbs are pulled tenser and tighter than violin strings, and his pride explains why he didn't want it mentioned before.
He laughs tensely. Let it sound nervous, relieved.]
You handed my ass to me, actually. I suppose it was embarrassing.
no subject
[Because L is L..]
[No. He shakes his head in denial. He won't believe it. He can't. Mello would Never.]
Linden. [Grave as the day he left The House. The name is still a struggle on his tongue.]
If that's the case, it wasn't me.
[He's sure of it.]
I wouldn't.
[Because Mello doesn't know what could have led up to it. No one will tell him. Not even L.]
[Fuck, why does it hurt so much. He should just walk. Now. And he will, shortly.]
no subject
We were Bonded. I'd know, but... in a manner of speaking, it wasn't you. You have no memory of these events.
[Events that L has taken some softened liberties with to lessen the blow that he didn't want to have to deliver in the first place... but still events that would track as the truth's bleached skeleton, should Mello dig further. L doesn't think he will; this, alone, is enough. The idea of anyone coming to physical blows with a wisp of a man like L, to the point of fucking him up "badly", likely puts it over the top, even without the decorum demanded of their positions.]
I don't blame you, but to see your face is--
[He shakes his head. All the words that come to mind feel too callous and cruel, though he may have said them aloud once.]
I'm truly sorry.
[That's why.]
no subject
[No. Never happened. He would remember. If he remembers nothing else, Mello would remember hurting L. He remembers the story of his potential predecessor who did, who set himself aflame after leaving a trail of carnage behind him just to get to L; he remembers the large room and dim lighting when the story was told, he remembers the monotone of L's voice as he relayed nothing short of an abhorrent case that would have taken a psychological toll on anyone told by someone who seemed (to Mello, as a child) completely unaffected by the whole thing.]
[He remembers thinking that Beyond wanted to get the best of his mentor, and it all ended in L's favor. He remembers reading the name amongst Kira's suspected victims; the main character in his idol's story dying in a fucking prison cell like a piece of worthless meat, but.]
[No recollection of laying a hand on L. At any point, whether or not Mello remembers them meeting at all. It's irrelevant. A slow, measured exhale. He runs a gloved hand down his face in an attempt to collect himself, otherwise Mello will just walk away.]
[And that will be that.]
[And that can't be that. Not after all this time. Not after everything.]
Bullshit.
[Venom spit towards a man he would once equate with Christ, himself.]
If I'd hurt you in a way I'm capable of, you wouldn't be brave enough to stand in front of me, right now.
[And just like that, the little blonde boy who has since committed too many sins to count snaps. It's denial. It's a challenge.]
no subject
Mello actually takes it a step further. So grand is his definition of pain, so tremendous his notion of suffering, that he believes if he had, even the great L wouldn't be able to face him.
L sets his jaw, narrows his eyes. Raises one of the hands that are stiff at his side to show Mello how violently it's shaking before lowering it again.]
What does that word mean to you? "Brave?" Impervious to harm, perhaps? Incapable of feeling fear?
[He shakes his head, disdainful. Disappointed.]
I stand before you because you were never going to keep any kind of promise. You asked; you know. Whether you believe is up to you, but at least in this world, there exist sources with which you can corroborate it if you mean to accuse me of lying.
[He returns Mello's venom with something equally dark. It's a bluff, in a sense that he is lying... and in doubling down, it's absolutely meant to intimidate Mello. L does so with grim confidence, because if Mello does corroborate, well...
He'll choose not to believe it, as well, or wish that he'd never been born into any world.]
You'd do well to take your chance at a new life. It's the smart decision; it's my decision.
no subject
[God, they're so close in age now that Mello can see it — can see his worst nightmare when he doubted his actions come to life. (L would take you down with the rest of them, you know.) How many times had he told himself that when he was seconds away from doing something absolutely vile?]
[But he wasn't 'just' a criminal then, as he isn't, now. Not even when L accuses him of things that he didn't do. It's the Courtyard all over again: Roger (and fuck, Mello always hated that old cunt) all but dragging him inside by his ear, accusing him of things that he hadn't done. He was an easy scapegoat then due to his tendency for mischief, as he's an easy scapegoat now for something that wore his face.]
[He doesn't remember it, so it simply didn't happen.]
[But L's voice holds the undertone of one who has seen the worst of humanity, someone who has brought people to their day of reckoning and Mello — ]
[He's his fucking enemy, isn't he?]
[The swallow is thick, the step he takes back is intentional. Understanding. If L wants him to submit, if L won't believe him, what has he to prove here?]
I see.
[It's all he can muster. Low. Bitter; not defeated.]
Then you should've kept to yourself when I first arrived, yea.
[Yeah.]
[He won't turn his back to L — M isn't fucking stupid — so when he moves to depart, he makes sure to keep the other in his line of sight out of the corner of his eye, and as he passes something he intends to leave far behind, when he's just close enough to mutter — ]
Don't ever fucking threaten me again, Linden.
[L wants to make a dangerous thing out of him, then?]
no subject
He should let Mello walk, but Aizawa's words ring in his memory. I also hate how you've always gotta have the last word!]
Or?
[He turns as Mello passes, folding his arms over his chest.]
Should I fear any number of acts you can't believe you'd ever carry out? Because that's precisely the problem: I do.
no subject
(Don't look back. Don't look back.}
[And he won't, because Mello has to somehow prove that he's better than that. (But oh, he isn't, is he?]
Then I'd recommend you watch your mouth, if you're so afraid of me.
[And he's walking into the unknown. If this is truly a dream, let him wake. Mello's had enough. He'll grieve later, but for now? L knows how to get to people, and it's working.]