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TDM: May
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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 on up June 1st. The application page can be found here.
• If you have any questions about the game or the world, please refer to the FAQ page; if you still have questions, feel free to ask them! For questions specific to the test drive, please ask them on the appropriate thread.
• For the purposes of the test drive, your character will have access to all magics taught by the Coven if they're a Witch, and as much of their shifted form as you'd like if they're a Monster. Feel free to play around and experiment with each!
• While current players won't be allowed to post top levels on the test drive itself, feel free to reference or play with the dreams in-game.
• 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 Eternal Fall
The smell of autumn leaves surrounds you, a myriad of colors sparkling into existence at the same time. Despite the warmth and light, the air feels heavy and stiff, as if on razor's edge. The forest is eerily silent - not a bird, bug, or rodent dares to stir - and when you do hear something, it's the high-pitched crying, whining, weeping, sobbing, howling sounds of something far off. The tunnel of bent branches invites you further with an unpleasant compulsion; though fighting it and turning around finds you in front of a chilly, damp cave alight with the faint, cool glow of bubbling fountains and streams.
 The Compulsion Unable to sway yourself from the call of the forest - or maybe you're simply curious as to where it leads - your feet pull you further and further into the autumnal tunnel. The cry from before grows more distant, but in return, the air weighs even heavier on your shoulders than before. The branches hang lower and lower as well, as if pushed by gravity, until their leaves smack your face, twigs offering small cuts from the thorns protruding from their bark. But you can't stop. Not now. The end of the tunnel seems so close; but it's seemed that way for a while now, you suppose, and you've already come this far - you might as well stay the course, wherever it might lead. The further you go, the brighter everything becomes, and you realize it's the leaves surrounding you; they've begun to glow, encouraged by the sunlight streaming in from above, and the wind begins to whisper in your ear. At first, it's only encouraging things, or silly facts - harmless words, but as the foliage begins to shimmer and reflect your image, the wind's words turn colder. Within those reflections on the autumn tunnel, you begin to see your worst moments - morally, ethically, emotionally. The things you don't want anyone else to know, that you'd feel ashamed or struck for anyone - especially those close to you - to see. The wind becomes louder as the scenes play out one right after another, boldly declaring your true feelings as they were in that moment, good or bad. Worst of all - you still can't bring yourself to turn back, even as your mind begins to free itself from the tunnel's compulsion. Maybe someone else can help out, if they're not too taken by their own memories, or maybe the shock of sharing such private secrets will jolt you and anyone else back to reality. Either way, it's that, or staying stuck watching your worst memories play on repeat for what feels like the rest of your life. |
 The Cry While not compelled by any means, you still feel a curious draw down the path in front of you; as you follow the leaf tunnel, with others or alone, you find another, less-traveled path. Following it reveals a large pond colored orange and gold by the reflection of the area it's in, sunlight and shadows playing on its surface. At a glance, it seems to be rather shallow, but that's hardly the truth. You realize, after a moment, that the crying has continued, evidently coming from the water. Looking closer, the culprit is an infected Merrow, who - upon begin seen - shrieks and dives for whoever's looking at it with the clear intent to drag them down beneath the water. Its claws are extra sharp, its teeth similar to a shark in number and shape, and its scales have turned a pale black; an oil-like substance flows from beneath them and from its gums as well, shimmering the same way gasoline does in the light, and its eyes are the tell-tale white of a Shade. It isn't impossible to fight it to get away, especially as some of you have new abilities at hand, and some of you have a few neat changes to help that along. Once distance is successfully put between you and the infected Merrow, it howls in a wet, warbly voice, visibly frustrated. Unlike ordinary Merrows, who can walk on land and have legs as long as they stay dry, this Merrow can't seem leave its pond at all, and electricity sparks from it like little static shocks in its irritation. It does dive back under once it realizes it can't reach you, resurfacing as your character's most important person in an attempt to lure them back. The expressions are far too real, too genuine; even those aware it's a Merrow might be fooled. While its voice isn't a perfect mimicry, the song it begins to sing has with it notes of yearning and beckoning to join it, join your beloved person, in the water. |
 The Cave Pulling yourself from curiosity or compulsion, the cave behind you - in front of you, if you've turned around - gives off an oddly pure feeling. Like an oasis in a desert, it feels refreshing and calm; incredibly safe, compared to the eerie call of the forest it's in. Within the cave are pools of water that glow and glimmer from the magic runes found around them. The runes shift similar to a mirage whenever you try to focus on them; and try as you might, you can't glimpse what they say exactly. It isn't so hard to figure out though, as the pools of water surrounded by them have a pleasingly cold temperature, while those without them are near scalding. A few of the latter have runes around them, but they're not glowing like the rest - feeding a little magic into them changes this immediately, and steam rises in a sudden blast as the water cools rapidly. The opposite can be done for the colder pools too - taking their magic somehow or ruining the runes will make them bubble and boil as they surge in temperature. But that isn't all the cave has to offer. Moving further inward, you get the feeling you're going down - beneath the ground and the enchanting forest. Eventually, the cave widens out to a massive underground lake, multiple waterfalls pouring into it; despite their number and size, the room is completely silent. All tunnels seem to lead to this one room, with a few of them looking more man-made than natural. Traversing other tunnels leads you into a maze that only ever brings you to the lake, or to the cave's entrance, no matter how many different paths you take. Something different happens eventually though; signs of life begin to appear, or at least signs that life once lived there. Leather pouches rotted by the dampness of the cave hang on sharp nails beaten into the cave walls, with boots in similar condition strewn here and there. Torn, soaking clothing lays in piles in the tunnels, and candles burnt down to their wick's end stand in shelves carved from the navy blue and black stone. There's broken toys and books too waterlogged to read, instruments with snapped strings or clogged holes, and - most peculiarly - smooth, round devices that heavily resemble large pocketwatches or hand mirrors. They refuse to turn on though, either due to age or due to the wetness of the air. |
no subject
I was hoping you might say that. [ Catching Sokie's gaze and holding it fast with his own, he reveals an affinity perhaps far less obvious than one might expect from a Witch who so thoroughly preferred wielding flame above all else— ] Fire is the lifeblood of Summer, and lightning is its spark.
[ One galvanized the other, like two Witches in a bond; a cyclical feedback loop. ]
A cage, though, is a bit beyond me. You're welcome to magic one, but... [ Crackling to life at his fingertips are electrostatic currents, at the ready for volleyed discharge, the pond which the Merrow has retreated well into an unfortunate choice of home (or willful prison, if the infected knew what they would become; what harm they could do). ] ...maybe we're both a bit too pent up for that.
[ The tension in her, he can't seem to forget it. It isn't in him, to press for answers, but he'd remiss if he did not ask when the task before them is through. ]
On your mark?
no subject
And hearing how he agreed with her, her breath caught in a laugh. There was excitement-excitement of the tang of magic, of ozone that she thought she could smell, and her hands lifted, smoothed and practiced.]
I'll contain the area so you can use the lightning to its highest effect without backlash.
[Also? It'd be a shame if it ruined their hair. An absolute awful thing. She was forgetting about the tension, pretending that she felt more like herself.
Just like he was, she thought. Destruction was such an easy outlet. Her lips curved up.]
Get set.
[It reminds her of races she's seen of children, and their laughter. Her hands flew and there it was-the cage, nearly ready, the creature unable to escape.]
Go!
no subject
When the storm stops, smoke floats from the corpse upon the water, and the surrounding forest is still. And Asura, who'd raced with Sokie hand in hand to this grave conclusion, is quiet himself, ravendark lashes sweeping low over green eyes as he stares out, at the water, as he sees in the Merrow every Changeling he'd put down for the safety of others.
That creature did not deserve to be slave to the shell which encased it, no more than any Changeling deserved to be lost to the madness imposed upon them by their altered forms; their time held as prisoner in Arcadia, and yet... who could escape it, in the end?
Even Asura himself is not so invulnerable. ]
Radio, someone still loves you. [ —he sings softly in eulogy, breaking the silence, turning to face the woman he'd call his friend before asking: ]
You think it'll be safe to bury the body? [ It's the just thing to do. ]
no subject
It's a relief. She hadn't realized that the charge up of magic had been bothering her so-and how it feels strange, and unlike the world she knew. She was used to being in the middle of a cloud, balanced; here, it's just a build up, like she's been holding her breath.
She could hate what this world has done to her, given half a chance. Her hands dropped, and with his song, she laughed. It was one of surprise rather then battle high or maliciousness.
Her hand moves through her hair, once, thoughtful, before wrinkling her nose.]
I think we might have to cremate the remains. We'll have to fish out the body and ward the area off.
[She sighs; it's a lot of work, but...]
I don't know how infectious it is. Magic makes it uncertain.
[And a pain in the butt.]
Sorry Asura. We have to be boring adults for about five seconds.