uploadedmeme | Test Drive

Entry tags:

Test Drive

TEST DRIVE 001

-TDM threads can be considered game canon if players involved agree & if it suits any roles you may decide to choose for the current plot.
-Any reserving player that does not submit an app by Saturday morning will be subject to challenging applicants.
-Participation in the Test Drive is worth a flat 10 points per month rather than per thread, and you must have a minimum of 5 comments in that month to qualify for it.
-This TDM is good for the duration of the Mist setting. A new TDM will go up before the next setting.

The NETWORK for this setting is a voice-only walkie talkie system that can be used to communicate between all locations. The default channel will be open to all walkie talkies, but characters can change to an unused channel for private conversation.
of note: There seems to be something strange about these walkie talkies, in that there is no static. The quality is disturbingly crystal clear, like the person you're speaking to is right next to you instead of miles away.

CONTENT WARNING: Some prompts contain gore, character death, and substance abuse.

Reserves will open on Saturday, September 8 until Saturday, September 15
Applications will open Saturday, September 15 until Saturday, September 22

General Prompts

The lights above you are a blindingly, pristine white. The walls around you curve up into the ceiling like the inside of an MRI machine. Your hands, feet, and midsection are strapped to a clinical table, and minutes seem to tick by, with no clear course for escape presenting itself to you.

The curved white space above you flickers with color, and a perfect square like a television screen expands before your eyes. It pans over what appears to be a town, something small and simply populated.

“Hello, and welcome to your first setting,” a neutrally cadenced feminine sounding voice begins, riding the line between human and machine. As she speaks, captions of the text type themselves in neat and perfect Arial font. “The location is loosely based off Bridgton, Maine, United States of America, Earth. The year is 2007. You have been selected to participate. Obedience ensures an enjoyable and immersive experience for our audience. If you have been granted a role, instructions will follow. Do not talk about the role. Do not attempt disobedience. If you have not been granted a role, your objective for this round is simple: survive.”

After that, the shackles may release promptly and allow your character to roam free. Or perhaps not — perhaps they've been given a role to play, and if so, further instructions will play out upon the screen. Once suitably briefed, characters will be released to their own devices. Beware the mist.

CHECK OUT THE CURRENT SETTING PAGE FOR DETAILS ABOUT THE LOCATION.

learn from the mistakes of others

A pair of unperturbed mall inhabitants decide to chance the mist. They're the first of a handful to trickle out the front doors, and they seem to get by just fine. About a minute ticks by, and they disappear completely into the dense fog that presses in from every direction. It's so anticlimactic that for a moment it almost seems stupid to feel uncomfortable by the sight of it.

Until precisely one half of a body is hurled abruptly and with great force from an indeterminate point in the obscurity. It's not a top half or a bottom half; no, it's a cleanly sliced left half, head to toe as though a neat line were cut down the middle. It slams into the transparent glass doors and crumples before them, still and obviously unmoving, slowly leaking.

After a few seconds, a dark tendril of something reaches out, curls around the jutting left ankle, and drags it with painstaking slowness back into the fog.

At least the rest of them probably made it, right?

Right?

Hopefully you weren't one of the others to follow their lead. If you were, that dark shape seems to be closing in awfully quick.

eff this, let's bounce

A pair of car keys can be found discarded or perhaps dropped in their owners' haste. Braving the mist when it's at its lightest and pressing the key fob will cause a car to beep politely, flashing lights to indicate its location in the fog. Take anyone willing to go with you and pile in. Try to get the hell out of dodge!

An excellent idea....

Within five miles of the car's journey the battery will die and the engine will stall. Consider yourselves effectively stranded and with no one but yourselves to blame. Perhaps help will come if you wait long enough? Hours, surely no more than a few days... Maybe you should consider braving the fog to get back? Five miles can feel like a hundred in conditions like these.

Either way, it seems like you're trapped in the car for about as long as R. Kelly got trapped in the closet during that one unfortunate CD.

radio chatter

Characters in the library and the church will be able to communicate via walkie talkie radio chatter immediately! Characters in the mall will not have this ability until later in the month, so any network style threads with a mall character will take place during Week Two of the October plot or later, after most people have already been fully introduced to the setting and given time to adapt.

Roles

Employee of the Month (Multiple)

Some characters will be printed wearing a designated kiosk uniform, their name sloppily stickered in slightly crooked letters onto a Dippin' Dots badge, or whatever store they may happen to be assigned to. The cool voice that introduces them to the mist will carry on to tell them that they'll be playing employee # _____ in this month's immersive experience. Their motivations and objectives are simple: go to work.

Except the role seems to be bugged, because they can never not go to work. If they leave the five or six foot radius of their designated post they'll begin to experience consequences, which worsen in severity based on distance and duration. The role doesn't end at mall closing, it doesn't end on Saturdays, it simply doesn't end. Hopefully next month's code push will have a bug fix; we apologize for the inconvenience.

(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the role will wear off within the first in-game week)

Aggravated Assault

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of a CONVICTED FELON having recently been released on parole. Your motivation for this month's immersive experience is frustration. Having undergone hard time, you'll find that we have increased your aggression and temper characteristics, and lowered your inhibitions. Your objective is to find and begin an altercation with Snuff the Rooster, who will be playing the role of the person who turned you in, NARK. Your altercation must take place in a public space with witnesses, and may not stop until Snuff the Rooster is unconscious, evicted from the mall, or someone intervenes.

Thank you for your participation!

Consequences for not completing the objective in this role can be moderate to severe.

Snuff the Rooster

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing the role of NARK. Formerly a close friend and ally of CONVICTED FELON from Aggravated Assault, you were quick to roll on them during police questioning in exchange for your freedom. Your motivation is to turn over a new leaf, and get your shit together. Your objective is to survive the altercation.

Thank you for your participation!

The Lovers (Duo Role)

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing one half of a partnership role! Please seek out (character 2). Your motivation this round is love, and the need to protect your partner from threats both inside and outside of the mall. Your objectives is to greet your lover with a kiss and place them above all others. Do not act like strangers.
Consequences for not completing the objective in this role or failing to present a convincing couple can be mild to moderate.

Pathological

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. Your motivation is to tell lies; at least one third of what you say must be unarguably untrue. Your objective is to keep these lies from being discovered as false.
Consequences for not complying with this role can vary from mild to severe, with the compulsion to tell larger and larger lies growing as time goes on.

Scared Speechless

Congratulations, participant! You will be playing a background character in our current setting. You may choose one person, stranger or otherwise. This is the only person you may communicate with, either verbally or through writing.
Consequences for not complying with this role are severe.

Glitches

potency error

Someone seems to have miscalculated the relative strength of intoxicants; all inhibition-altering substances seem to have been cranked up to eleven. One shot has the strength of three, though the taste seems to stay exactly the same. One or two drinks will quickly creep up on you. One of the joints found discarded in the bathroom trashcans will easily green you out. God forbid you've got anything stronger.

greatest movie of all time

Settling in to the relatively nice theater found at the far end of the mall is a decent way to make the time go by. The projectors are automated, and there are six different theaters that show flicks at scheduled times.

Except that every single one of them is showing Spider-Man 3. Every single one, every single showing, no matter what is advertised, becomes Spider-Man 3. That's how you know this is a horror game. Hope you didn't wander in by mistake because the doors will shut behind you and leave you to watch the entire showing. Please keep your feet off of the seats.

please replace toner cartridge

It seems there was an error in printing someone this first time around; everything came through but the visuals somehow. Your character is flesh and blood, fully formed, wearing tangible clothes even, but are completely invisible. Donning additional clothing causes it to clip out and then promptly disappear. Taking clothes off will cause them to reappear. Hopefully this gets fixed in the next lite patch.

(If choosing to keep these threads as game canon, the glitch will wear off within the first in-game week)

code bases by tricklet

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ His quirk isn't the only thing he's trained. Being #1, meant being able to function at peak shape even without your quirk. It's why he trained so hard, why he studied so much, why he learned to be independent, so he wouldn't need to rely on anyone but himself. ]

Idiot's ready to break his arm to search the area.

[ It pissed him off and he didn't hold back his punches. ]

Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid because I'm not rescuing his ass for being stupid.

[ He unclips the radio from his pack and turns it to channel 9. ]

I'll leave it on 9. I'll let you know if we need to change it.

"No, what—?"

So, this isn't exactly the kind of scenario John Blake was expecting when told to anticipate a role, and had he been given the choice, he certainly wouldn't have picked this option.

For sixteen minutes, he's experienced the consequences of not seeking out his alleged lover, and now, without so much as a moment to protest, he's faced with the other half of this ridiculous charade taking away any chance he had to test the boundaries set forth for all of them.

Expression tight, eyes narrowed, John gives Dean a shove and stalks a few feet away to compose himself. He's supposed to be playing a role, and while he's instantly relieved from the nausea he'd been feeling by that smooch, it doesn't take away the knot in the pit of his stomach.

He grumbles as he resists this whole ordeal, but already there's a mounting grossness suggests he needs to do a little better for his part.

"Where were you last night?" He'll ask the ridiculous question, and as soon as he does, he's back to feeling fine. Someone really wants them to interact in these roles.

Peggy was of the opinion that common sense and staying on one's toes was the key to solving jut about any problem or situation. It still remained to be seen how that viewpoint would serve her here, however.

"Good, I'm glad that you agree." It meant that she and Motoko had some common ground, if not just common thought processes.

"I find it important to keep one's head during a crisis whenever possible." Which is to say, she believes that to be important all the time. "Hm, that does present a problem. I think that attempting to tunnel out would only bring down unwanted attention. Who knows who may be watching, after all? I suppose our only recourse then is to wait for this to end and then leave as soon as it does."

It's not a great plan, nor a satisfactory one. "If only I had a gun with a silencer. Shooting off the door handle might work, although that is a bit drastic, and ultimately pointless, as I do not have one."

Quite so, and may I say the whole experience was rather disorienting. Fortunately, that seems to have passed now.

[ She pauses for a moment to consider him and the car. ]

I suppose we ought to try and find someplace useful, such as a temporary shelter of sorts. Or perhaps we should locate others who are in the same situation we are.

[ Having allies is sometimes a good thing. ]

[ He's not so bad himself. At least, he seems calm and capable enough, which are pluses in Peggy's book. ]

Yes, but how long before someone makes a noise or otherwise draws its attention? Then I'm afraid it will be very interested in coming in here. I do agree with you, at least as far as the observing it part is concerned.

[ Still, the fog does not appear to be leaving, which is unfortunate. Regardless, once they reach the area with the benches, Peggy grabs one as well, finding it a tad ungainly, but nothing she can't manage. ]

I suppose I could slip out there and attempt to get a look at it, but that would leave you alone in here. I don't think splitting up is the best plan of action at this time.

[ Which effectively leaves them right where they began. What a predicament. ]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. [ Peggy holds out a hand in what she hopes is a comforting gesture, not a frightening one. ]

If you're certain that you're fine, then that's good, at least. [ She's of the opinion that the more healthy and able-bodied people they have, the better. ] I believe we all are lost here. I don't know where my friends are either, but I do hope that for all of their sakes, they are not here.

As for what's happening, your guess is as good as mine. I do think, however, we should attempt to explore this place, both to see if there are others around and to see if there are any useful items.

[ Such as a gun. Peggy really doesn't like being unarmed in this situation. ]

Perhaps it is. This is all a bit outside my realm of experience.

Unless the point of those people is to direct us to one specific outcome, although I can't imagine what that might be.

[ Perhaps "a way home" isn't the most accurate term. A way out of whatever this mess seems to be is more along the lines of what she means. ]

No, I am not. [ She gives him her best line-face, but it's temporary, and is replaced by a more neutral expression again. ] I found myself in a strange white room, and the next thing I knew, I was here.

[ And apparently her only goal is to survive, which, while decidedly ominous, is not particularly helpful. ]

[......aaaanyway,,,]

Where are you? Is anyone with you?

[if there was ever a man more straight to the point and impervious to Bakugou's temper, we should all shake his hand]

[WE HAVE PRIORITIES, SIR]

Is anywhere here truly safe, I wonder? [ She doesn't mean to worry Beth, who sounds a bit young, but the thought slips out before she can quite get ahold of it. ] Still, it seems as though I have no choice but to stay here for the time being.

As for the mist, I'm afraid I don't, only that it appears to be everywhere, and that it does not seem to be very safe.

Why, have you learned anything?

[well, he's used to employing this sort of thing himself, so he lets it go; if it doesn't matter then it doesn't matter]

So you're in the mall too, huh...

[...wait, but then why — ]

You can't move? Are you injured?

[You don't come from a world like theirs without being at least a little wary of heavy fog/mist/clouds/whatever, and Toga really had no intention of dying any time soon. So one might assume she'd stay well clear of the doors... and she would have, had she not heard about the commotion that had occurred not too long ago, the thing that left people shaken and running and... oh. Oh, it was beautiful. If only she could have seen it...

The perfect imprint of what was clearly half a man. The drying streaks of blood down the glass. The pool of it on the ground and the trail leading into the fog from where the remains had been dragged away.

To the unfamiliar eye, her flushed face and full-body shudder could easily be interpreted as shocked revulsion. Unfortunately, she doesn't have too long to revel in the sight before a definitely familiar voice starts talking about going off into the fog and, really, who would she be to deny a death wish? Especially when that death wish was directed to no one in particular aside from the criteria of being nearby. Poor boy.

Todoroki could be better, but he was cute enough, and he was practically volunteering to go become the sexiest man alive, so she gladly takes that watch and leans on the door in just such a way to make it swing and stay open without actually setting foot outside.]

So trusting, Todoroki-kun~

[ DIE! ]

I'm not telling you shit until you learn some goddamn protocols!

But your "codename" is stupid.

What did you just say to me, Two-face?!

[ Did you just call him stupid?! He'll kill you! ]

There are only two reasons why he's not literally seeing three (or four) of her by the time she makes that fourth pass. One: he's sipping his whiskey, not shooting it, because this has turned out to be a great bottle and he's the type who likes the taste. And two: he hasn't stood up since he started, so a lot of the very powerful strength of this alcohol may be sitting like silt at the bottom of a river, not yet stirred by movement.

He's certainly feeling the effects though, and at the moment those effects are a blissful mellowness and breezy nonchalance about the fact that the entire world is going to shit in that preternaturally creepy mist outside and he's trapped in here unable to do a gods damned thing but mutely await whatever fate the "audience" has in store for him. He wanted to drink himself to the old familiar place of This Is Fine, and at least for the moment, that's right where he is.

He did notice the woman who's just spoken before, on her first and second, or maybe second and third passes, or who knows really. But he's noticed her go by before in that way a person does when they've got nothing to do but drink and people watch. That's also how he's come to notice that if you look closely enough, there are little tells that differentiate the people people--the ones that seem to have sense and purpose and will--from the ones who seem more like corporeal holograms, simply programmed to loop through a routine.

He thinks that she's one of the former, though the multiple passes did throw him at first, because that's what the holograms do. She doesn't always come from precisely the same spot though, doesn't always move quite the same way, and anyway, he's never seen the hologram-people take interest in someone new before.

So he raises his glass to her in lieu of a wave. It's a welcoming sort of glass-raise, not actively motioning her over but sure willing for the company if she wants to join. Then he points to his mouth, and with his free hand makes something like a bar across it to signal: no talking from him.

[Oh yeah it's not the 'waking up in a new place with too much white and an invisible woman talking to you' thing. It's the 'Mom's invisible' thing that says they're both losing their minds, huh? (In Kojuro's defence, he's still not too phased by it. It does lend him stealth and all, y'know? Just gotta roll with the punches.)

Still, something that would mark him for Masamune, even some...Weird, flashy belt floating in the air...That would help more. So he sighs, ruing the fact that he pulled out some damn weeb belt, and tries to wind it around his waist. The belt is visible, right up until he does the buckle and-- whoop, there it goes. The belt is now glitched too. Great.]

...So much for you getting to admire my new look, my lord. I suppose I shall have to make myself a weapon instead; holding things does not seem to pass this on, thankfully.

[Well, the belts don't seem like they'd make great garrotes anyway. He's going to drift towards the hair accessory section and start stocking up on THESE MOTHERFUCKERS instead. Keep him away from the Funko Pops or he'll realise they're hard enough and ugly enough to justify hurling at whatever the fuck's outside. It's only once he's emptied out the hair pins that he stops and looks back at Masamune, not that...It means anything, does it? He's just a floating pile of anodised metal right now.] ...Are you not worried about catching whatever I have, right now?

[Now here's what you call ironic: approaching a guy with that question who's probably one of the few people around that has seen (well, okay, not seen because, y'know...but encountered) someone else with precisely the same problem...only this guy, like you, can't tell you about it because he's also got to stay mute (except for being able to talk to that one other guy who no one can see, but that doesn't help because he's not here right now; in fact, Vrenille's pretty sure he ran out there into the mist, so he might actually be dead at the moment, which, P.S. evidently does not mean that he gets to pick somebody else to talk to instead, and frankly he thinks that's a pretty stupid rule.)

Anyway, add into the mix that he's now been drinking for quite a while, and even if he has been drinking slow, it feels like he's been drinking fast. He's made only a small dent in the bottle that he's holding by the neck, but by the way he's feeling, he might as well have downed half of it already. And then he decided to go do some window shopping because, hell, there's all kinds of crap in this place that he's never seen before, and that seems like a lark.

So he's examining a shop window when that disembodied tap on his shoulder comes, and he can already see in the glass reflection that there's no one behind him. Which means he wheels round in shock, loses his balance (not all that steady to begin with), and falls back against the glass with a solid thud that turns into the long slow squeak of him sliding the rest of the way down it until he lands, legs spread in a V, with his ass on the floor.

The amber liquid in his bottle of whiskey sloshes. The bottle, however, is intact. (Priorities.) And Vrenille is very wide-eyed like someone just went and slapped him awake or threw a bucket of cold water on him to try and sober him up. (He's not really sobered up.) He's gonna need a moment before his brain catches up to the actual question though, sorry.]

Test... One, two... [ Gems don't need sleep, but if Pearl ever felt the need, it would be now. She has been 'channel-surfing' the walkie-talkie for so long she is just muttering at this point, leaning against the circulation desk about a good two inches from her arm sliding out from under her chin and slamming her head into the tabletop.

And just then, when hope was at its faintest glimmer, comes a voice. She fumbles the walkie-talkie with sudden surprise, slamming the device into the desk with a loud THUNK that certainly sounds out through the receiver. ]

Yes! I knew there was someone to communicate with! I'm saved! Mr. Smooth Pine, put me into contact with the nearest authority! [ The radio joke has officially gained significant air over her head right now. ] ... Hello? Is this one-way? [ Then a couple more thuds as her finger impatiently taps against the receiver. ]

[At least Vrenille isn't invisible. At least Vrenille hasn't disobeyed and fallen out of his role yet. Kojuro goes to try and reassure him, knows that this is a lot to take in and tries to get a nice, calm tone on and everything, but only one syllable escapes him before there's a nice, wet, meaty slicing noise.]

Ah--

[They're both on the floor now, not that Kojuro's visible for his own keel over. (At least he didn't land on one of Vrenille's legs, which is great. Insult to injury would suck ass right now when he just wants to get information.)

But, y'know. There's an arm visible, severed neatly with no mess. It's just...There now for them both to deal with; one left arm, complete with two layers of sleeves and still warm and moveable. Who needs their left hand though, right--] Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

[As if the invisibility shit wasn't enough, this asshole's a southpaw too. He can't even ask nicely for a sip of that alcohol, or a splosh to at least try and cover the...Lack of a wound in, so Kojuro does the next best thing; he just grabs for it, hissing through his teeth. It doesn't even hurt, and he does feel bad for being an asshole because clearly he's not the only one having a shitty day of it, but like hell he's talking again just to make friends when he's lost his good hand (and even if he tried, he's already starting to grow a single, thin vine out of his clean new arm-stump for that little outburst just now so it's not exactly high on his list of priorities). Sorry, guy. Kojuro is no longer a disembodied voice, but an invisible plantman trying to steal that booze and making almost bestial grunts out of horrified frustration.]

[ This certainly is a commotion! Pearl is naturally drawn to the wide group of people, unfortunately a little too late to give any unwanted, likely-to-be-ignored scolding to the runaways. But she is there to watch one body be slammed right into the window and cause mass panic. Her hand slaps over her mouth to hide the look of disgust on her face as the body, or rather, what remains of it, slides down the glass pane and leaves a fine, hard-to-clean smear against the door.

Unlike the other onlookers, though, she is actually drawn towards the sight, maneuvering through the panicking crowd to catch a closer glimpse of the remains. Oh dear...

Her first instinct is to go outside and help, but that's thankfully stopped by a particularly loud boy grabbing her shoulders and blaring orders at her.

At first, she has to take some time to blink in silence, trying to get over the jarring volume before shaking her head and furrowing her brow. ]

Yes... Yes! You're absolutely right! Good plan. [ What do you know! Someone else who appreciates organization and helpfulness. ] While you do that, I will help the person out there! [ She smiles obliviously for a moment, looking towards the very obviously dead corpse being dragged into the fog. ] We should be able to get some medical attention in time, correct? That is quite a bad injury, though.

[JUST...]

[there's a long pause where he's no doubt holding in a sigh, before trying to redirect yet again — and if it doesn't work this time, he's giving up]

I'm at the mall, and I have supplies. Can you make it here or not?

There's a problem with drinking sitting down. Namely that you often don't realize how drunk you are until you stand up. Combine that with a bottle of whiskey that's several times over as strong as any whiskey has any right to ever be, and the three slow, modest glasses that even a seasoned drinker like Vrenille has drunk are enough to have him dizzyingly plastered.

He's not so far gone that the world is spinning, which is probably unfortunate for everyone else since at least then he'd likely stay in one place and not bother anyone.

But no. He's still got the capacity to ~~walk~~ stagger around and explore. After all, when you're drunk and ignoring the mist outside and the fact that you've evidently just been ripped out of your own reality and reconstituted as someone's twisted excuse for entertainment (oh, and also that you can't talk without suffering debilitating pain, except to one invisible guy who fucked off like five minutes after you met him), you can end up having a pretty good time.

So he's literally got a bottle of booze in one hand and a bible in the other (because the kiosk down the end was really keen on him having one for some some reason), and he's kind of thumbing through the bible with a What The Fuck Is This Shit kind of expression on his face, pausing now and then to snort or scoff at something in it.

It takes all of about three kiosks' distance (at a slow, halting stagger) for him to get properly bored of it throw it away, not in a garbage bin, but just sort of offhandedly towards a bench. Maybe someone else will want it. To each their own.

And then he looks up and sees the Dippin' Dots stand.

Well, he has no idea what it is, but it's brightly colored and probably a lot more interesting than bibles, and there's this very unhappy man behind the counter who, perversely, Vrenille thinks looks like he'd be great to (not) talk to.

So over he staggers, puts his bottle of booze down heavily on the counter top with his hand around its neck like he's using it to keep himself upright, looks at the man, gestures vaguely towards the selection of...whatever the hell this stuff is, and sort of shrugs like "what is this?"

Please, good Dippin' Dots man, explain to him your wares.

Edited 2018-08-19 08:49 (UTC)

There's a light cough somewhere to Motoko's right, then a grunt-- And that sure is a potted palm floating through the mob. Something rustles, footsteps sound, and occasionally people stop and look around wildly, but the tree gets placed carefully in front of whatever mess the half-corpse had left in its wake. People do cruel enough things to each other, after all; monsters doing the same isn't all that shocking once you take it as another threat to analyse and deal with. But...That doesn't mean that everyone has to see it, certainly not.

Another plant, this time smaller but still in a large pot, goes floating through with the same theme of people looking wildly around to see what had brushed them. This just...Continues until the mess is relatively hidden from view by whatever can be feasibly picked up and hauled over. And then whatever little ghostie's done all that neat work returns to Motoko's side, warm, tangible, invisible, and clears its throat.

He can't talk right now, not to her. He could push the limits, and will in time, but right now self-preservation and obedience are kicking in way too hard to have Kojuro break the rules and see just what he'd end up getting in return. Hopefully his hard work is enough to convince her that he's not malevolent, just...Unable to communicate.

[Look, the only reason he hasn't fallen out of his role now is because he got that shit over with earlier today, ironically with Kojuro's lord, who he managed to speak a whole three and a half words to before deciding definitively NOPE, not trying that again EVER.

So that's why he clamps a hand over his mouth now. It's not to stop himself from puking at the sight of a sudden severed hand (though maybe it looks that way), but to stop himself from crying out in shock, because he honestly doesn't know if saying HOLY SHIT! would count as talking to someone, as opposed to, y'know, just being completely fucking gobsmacked.

At least now he's sobered up a little, because even compared to superpowered booze, adrenaline is a helluva drug.

He feels the tug on the bottle and for a moment, on reflex, he resists, like he's holding onto a friend. Even when he feels something vine-like brush against the hand that's holding it he doesn't let go. Maybe that's because his brain is trying to slot too many things into place at once, and he happens to come from a world where plantmen are a pretty commonplace thing. In fact most of his closest friends are plantpeople.

So his brain doesn't go Holy shit why is there some weird vine-feeling thing touching me?!!? What the fuck! Instead it basically goes Oh, right, that feels like sylvari. That makes sense. They probably want a drink because fuck, losing your arm like that would sure as shit hurt. Lucky they're a sylvari though; at least it'll grow back. (Yeah...he'll catch up with the fact that the severed hand lying on the floor is distinctly human and not sylvari in a minute, give him time here.)

Anyway, at that point he lets the bottle go willingly, leaning forward and reaching out for the invisible body that must be somewhere before him. He's trying to find a shoulder, he hopes, somewhere to lay a steadying hand. And he's motioning, with down-turned palms, the (hopefully) universal sign for go slow, because a little of that booze will take the edge off the pain, but a lot of it? It'd be easy to underestimate how hard it will hit.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 11 of 79

Test Drive

no subject

loverssssss

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

mist (because this is clearly the best idea)

no subject

no subject

no subject

NO U R GREAT

said like you don't have a plurk full of abominations for him to wear

B

II

cw gardening body horror OOP

B

no subject

employee of the month

no subject

no subject