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Test Drive Meme #3
Welcome to the Pixie Led Test Drive Meme!
The prompts will always be game canon, provided both characters who participate in a thread are either already in the game, or get accepted in the next application round.
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You wake up at a party.
You're not sure how, exactly, you got here. You may have just been walking in the woods or at a meeting for work or doing any other normal activity for you. But you know you weren't supposed to be at this party, you're fairly certain.
Anyone you ask about it will say the party is for you. You and the others also waking up and looking confused. Further questions will lead to the partygoers insisting you have something to eat. You're starving and others are eating the food without repercussion, so you figure there's no harm in a bite. You finish your portion.
It's another garden party near a large hedge maze in the middle of the night. With his penchant for games the Ruler of the Spring Court decided it would be nice to hold an actual game for all the Adopted present. None of that dreidel game a couple of parties ago. This time, he wants more spectacle with higher stakes. Forced to participate and host aspects of this gathering as well, the Ruler of the Dark Court wanted nothing to do with this, so he figured his participation in itself is for the party to happen at night, during his rule, when his mood is at its most pleasant.
Of course, there is no shortage of light sources such as candles and torches, much to the Earl's chagrin, as well as no shortage of food. This time, the fae decided to try their hand on some pasta. They heard it's a good delicacy from the mortal plane. Thing is, sauces look and smell bizarre. One's purple, while another's bright pink, and they taste fruity, as well as flowery, much like the cookies from the last gathering.
As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately woman stands up and speaks. You feel her voice more than hear it.
I am the Lawspeaker of the Fae, elected by Seelie and Unseelie alike, and you are all, now, subjects of Faerie. You cannot leave this realm once you have eaten our food, and even if you could, there is no saying how much time has passed back where you're from. Your loved ones are likely dead, your problems have likely played out. We require assistance in various matters, and each of you has been chosen for your talent and skill. You will be adopted by one of the Seelie or Unseelie Courts based on your strengths and personality. Your Court will decide what to do with you from there.
As suddenly as she stood, she sits back down.
So, what about this hedge maze that seems to have appeared out of nowhere and looming quite eerily beside this night's gathering? For one, peculiar noises can be heard whenever one's near its entrance. From the rustling of leaves to a woman crying, everything seems to be coming from inside.
Of course, the Adopted's participation is required and paramount. Anyone who refuses will be met with harsh penalties and consequences, whatever those may be. They also hint of a prize to anyone who comes out victorious on the other side. It's unclear what it is, though.
The fae know that while the Adopted have been very useful so far, they are also vulnerable and susceptible to fear, so to mitigate that, they have some colorful shots on a table marked LIQUID COURAGE near the entrance to the maze with such effects:
- Gold: Essentially a strong drink that gives you profound energy for 24 hours.
- Red: Downing this will make you feel warm like an aphrodisiac.
- Blue: Basically functions like a normal tequila shot. Or three. Comes with a little bag of salt.
These shots are not compulsory for the Adopted to take, but they will be highly encouraged to do so before entering. Once inside, the rustling of leaves and the sounds of someone crying become louder and even more evident. There are also a few key things that seem to be very clear the longer an Adopted is within the maze's walls:
- The maze is moving. How it's doing it, nobody knows. But it appears to be alive somehow, much like the castle grounds, so finding a clear pathway is almost impossible.
- Whenever an Adopted turns right two consecutive times, they will see a more positive outcome from a terrible event in their lives. Lost someone? They're now here and alive. Gave up on a dream? You find yourself currently living it.
- If an Adopted turns left two consecutive times, they will see someone, a family member or a friend who's still alive and had a deep impact on their lives, bleeding and dead on the ground.
It would be great if no one else can see an Adopted during their most vulnerable, but since the maze moves constantly, another Adopted or two might be able to see them trying to parse out what they're seeing, even if their fellow Adopted can't see it themselves.
CW: dismemberment, body horror, forced body transformations, mild gore, asphyxiation, drowning of children, death
The Spring King only wanted some good-natured fun within the maze, but unbeknownst to him, some Unseelie creatures and Unseelie magic have appeared inside, threatening the safety of the Adopted traversing every nook and cranny. Surely this will not have any lasting consequences between the relationship of the Seelie and Unseelie court rulers. Not at all.
A few of these Unseelie beings and Unseelie magic roaming around the hedge maze that the Adopted will have a chance to meet are as follows:
- Manananggal: Capable of severing its torso from its legs, this vampiric creature usually preys on sleeping pregnant women and unborn babies. But not anymore. Due to magic put on it, this manananggal will strike anyone it comes across. Better pour salt on its severed lower torso once you find it, or else.
- La Llorona: Remember that woman crying? Well, somewhere in the maze alongside the eerie sounds of water flowing, you'll come across a weeping woman cloaked in white with her back turned against you. Be careful not to approach her because once you do, she'll try to choke you to death, reminiscent of how she drowned her own children.
- Jersey Devil: The first thing you'll hear once you turn is a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream then the sound of bat wings flapping. You better run as fast as you can to the other direction because this devil is out to attack anyone it sees on its path.
- A fountain: How odd. Running from the jersey devil or the manananggal might have made you thirsty so perhaps there's no harm in drinking from it. But just coming in contact with its water will make any Adopted soon realize they have transformed into an Unseelie creature.
Fighting off these creatures might be best with a fellow Adopted. After all, there's power in numbers. Just be careful not to die within the hedge maze. There might be some dire consequences.
You feel a vibration in your pocket sometime after the Lawspeaker addresses everyone. When you search for the source, you will pull out your Leaf, the device the Fae use to stay in touch with each other. Anyone who's used a smart phone will easily recognize how it works.
Greetings, Adopted. This is your Lawspeaker.
To be on theme with our festivities for tonight, we want to know a time in your life when you felt lost and wandering about. Perhaps the most compelling story will receive a reward from us.
Andrew Jaeger | Original Character
Jaeger is so distressed by his sudden circumstances, he's got a half-drunk flute of champagne in his hand before he's able to really register what's happened, or what he's just done.
Cold rain, leather, and blood. The stink of gasoline, the rumble of engines. Gunshots and the sizzle of magic fired off in bursts of fire and lightning and metal. Pain and panic. But this is his life now, isn't it? And very possibly his death.
And then...this. How much of it is real? The wine is fizzy and vaguely metallic in his mouth, and it comes with a sinking feeling rather than any sort of alcoholic warmth.
He's a big man in his early forties, solid and steady in most circumstances with close-cropped graying hair. Hard lines and an ugly scar coiled around his neck speak of hard years, and more than a few brushes with some very grim circumstances.
But this isn't most circumstances, even for Jaeger, and he's still half in shock. It doesn't get any better as the fae woman makes her speech, and the look on his face is just short of lost. He still clutches the wine glass in his hand, a tiny relic of grim reality, but it's mostly forgotten and after the folly of drinking once, he makes no move to drink further.
"Talent and skill..."
》Feeling On Hedge
He should know better, but with the hedge maze looming over him, Jaeger downs the suspiciously golden shot just for the warmth that suffuses his bones.at this point, it's moot, right? It's all moot. He's already crossed the line, there won't be any extra seasons in hell for further indulgence.
This is more in his usual purpose than the party was, at least. Though foreboding in its own way, at least it's something familiar. It's a predator's restless need to keep moving, to engage, and there's a sort of comfort in motion. In being able to react, respond.
There might be others. There might be threats. He's ready for either, though the magic in his head twists and slides around unfamiliar lines, a profound sense of...not wrongness, exactly, but...alien? Foreign at the very least. The power here tastes strange and he's going to have to be careful.
And he is. Stepping with a caution appropriate to his size and weight, mindful of the twists and turns. Keep going left, keep going left...until he's stopped dead by what he encounters.
"Oh."
》Can't Unseelie It
The shriek that pierces the night has every hair on Jaeger's neck standing up, a primal and naked response that shoots through him and urges him to turn, to run.
That's probably not going to help. It doesn't usually, and the big man's gaze darts around, searching for options. He doesn't particularly want to see the horror that made that horrible sound, but he has a feeling he's going to anyway, so he...might just as well be prepared.
The skeins of a spell gather around him, an almost subliminal shimmer in the air. Fight, or run? He's got to make a decision quick, because if nothing else he's not just going to stand there and be torn apart.
Party
Most of what set her apart was the guitar she wore over one shoulder, lightly thumping against her back as she made her way through the crowd.
After determining to her satisfaction that Artemis wasn't here, she figured it was her responsibility to help out the newbies, as best she could. So she flitted from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face, offering a warm smile. And when the timing felt right, she asked, "Are you okay, dude?"
Everyone was a 'dude.' Even the stranger with the weird scars.
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It might also help that this young woman reminds him, fleetingly, of someone he knows. Knew. Whatever the context, there's that passing sense of familiarity.
"I think I've had better days." The response is dry, but he adjusts after a second. She's asking how he is, and that's...nice of her. There's no reason to be rude to her.
"I'm sorry. This is just...a lot. Even under the best of circumstances." And this wasn't those. But he favors her with a small, weary smile at her concern, a sincere expression of gratitude no matter how tiny.
"You look like you're doing better."
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That said, she knew it wasn't nearly as easy for others.
Rude to flaunt too much satisfaction, so she sobered her expression a little bit, gently reaching out to touch the stranger's elbow.
She conjured up the most reassuring tone of voice she could. "I'm not gonna say the weirdness stops being weird," she told him, "but I guess, like, the important thing to know right now is that you're safe. And there are a lot of us here who have been through this whole thing and we get it. We can help."
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Time he'll have later, but a little reassurance now is surprisingly welcome.
He nods solemnly, processing that for a moment. "I'm used to 'weird', just not quite this kind. Or this...magnitude." Go, go college boy.
His gaze drifts around the room, taking in their fellow party goers with eyes the color of a brewing storm. Maybe not safe, what ever is, but at least he's out of reach of his enemies for now. None of Easterbrook's assassins haunting his steps, and that alone is enough to let him breathe for even just a minute.
"But, thank you." It's quietly sincere in the rough rasp of his damaged voice, and he shifts his gaze back to her after that moment of searching. "...Andrew Jaeger," he offers after another second.
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Not for someone who'd just arrived to this...weird.
"Diana Abel," she said instead, offering him her hand. "A-B-E-L. As in, 'Caine and dot, dot, dot...'" She would never not introduce herself that way.
Something she'd learned to live with.
"From Earth," she added. "Around 2009, I think." She still wasn't entirely sure how long she'd spent in Solomon's warehouse. Better not to think about that too much.
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He accepts the offered handshake with a firm, professional grip, a grip with nothing to prove. At her further thoughts, he gives a thoughtful nod. She's been here "longer", whatever that might mean here...2009 would certainly count.
"Earth here, too. I was...traveling, before this. I was on my way to New York." On a long, desolate stretch of road, isolated and so very vulnerable in the rain and cold. "But it was several years later, for me."
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Someone had to introduce the girl to Hamilton.
She smiled, folding her hands behind her back, rocking easily on the balls of her feet. "What year are you from? And, more importantly, do we have flying cars yet? The Jetsons promised me flying cars, dude."
Diana was pretty sure flying cars weren't a thing, but she found that leading off with silliness put people at ease. The dude deserved a little silliness.
He'd been kidnapped by friggin' Faeries.
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Which makes most of New England treacherous territory, given Easterbrook's reach, but he's not going to dwell on that. The old buzzard nd his Conservators weren't here and that's a significant comfort.
He'd been kidnapped by far worse than faeries in his time.
"No flying cars, but it was 2023 last I knew. So...some advances, but not as different as you might hope. I mean, I drove an SUV." Another little quirk of smile at the levity. "I think we all might be a bit disappointed at that, but we manage."
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Actually, Diana really missed her old bus. Besides using it to rescue a healthy number of children and teenagers over the course of the 1960s and 1970s, she'd made some truly groovy loving in that lush, spacious backseat.
Also, it was purple.
But this was all good. She could see him smiling a little bit. Just had to keep coaxing that out. "Boston's great too," she said. "Even if I get lost every single time I visit. I mean, I feel like the streets were intentionally designed to get you turned around."
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"The problem with Boston is, its really not designed at all. They just added on, and added on, while trying to preserve the history. It's not like a modern city built on a grid." He still misses it, even with its treacherous tangle of narrow back roads, cobblestones, and road construction.
He returns to the previous topic, then, amused. "I haven't heard much about VW buses in a while, though. Fond of the classics?"
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Admittedly, a large chunk of that passion was from the idea of speed. There was something to be said for zooming as fast as possible, feeling the road beneath you. For her, it was almost like having a heartbeat again. A pulse that raced up through the steering wheel and into her skin. Along with the excuse to clutch someone close.
She nodded, with the shiest of smiles. "I could never resist a Porsche 911 turbo. Fastest car built in the 1970s. Went from zero to 60 in about five and a half seconds. Until the 3.3-litre flat-six introduced in 1978 slashed that time to 4.9 seconds."
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"I've had my share of good cars, but not many true classics," he admits. "My father leaned toward Mercedes, and I got into the habit out of tradition. I'm no expert, though, aside from a passing interest and being able to appreciate performance."
There are hints of money, if one looks closely: the quality leather of his coat, understated but expensive, and more tellingly, the titanium watch that's not quite a Rolex, but very high quality. Combined with his talk of luxury cars, there's the pretty clear implication of privilege there.
He knows it, though, and does his best not to be a dick about it, at least.
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Anyway, he wore it well.
And privileged or not, he was still stuck here, same as the rest of them.
"But you shouldn't let me keep going," she said. "I could go on for hours. Anyway, I'm sure you must have some questions. Anything I can help with? I mean, I'm not exactly an expert on Faeries, but..."
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It means he's calmer now, facing the circumstances he's found himself in. He can approach it with experience and the sharpen ss of a methodical mind.
"I know a bit about...my father always told me to call them the Good Folk, never disrespect them." This time his smile is tighter, more careful. "I don't know how much of it applies to this world, but it's a place to start, at least."
He considers the laden tables, the other...not really revelers, not with the haze of confusion that permeates the hall, but the rest of the party in general. Both surreal and treacherous in its beauty, which he'd been taught all along.
He shouldn't be surprised, not really, but there it is, with the damn faerie champagne.
"I suppose that little speech answered some of the essentials, but I'm sure I'll have more questions as I go. Right now I think I'm still processing. I was...not in good circumstances before this, and suddenly finding myself here is a shift, to say the least." He considers her with thoughtful eyes. Men with those kinds of scars don't tend to live quiet lives. Or particularly long ones, for that matter.
"Did you have any kind of experience with the strange before you came here, or was it a shock?"
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Diana had really been enjoying the slice of normal too, but it was her own damn fault, she supposed. Her own doing, changing the conversation back to the present tense. She had only herself to blame for what was about to happen now, she supposed.
The best she could do was approach it in the least threatening way possible. Fortunately, being non-threatening was kind of where Diana thrived. She'd cultivated her reputation as a flake with purpose, with intention. It served her well back home and would continue to do so here.
At least, so far...
"Oh," she said lightly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I mean, lots. Not with Faeries specifically, but plenty of supernatural freaky in my life. Happens when you're, like, a vampire."
There. That was...surprisingly easy.
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"Vampires are very rare where I'm from. I've only met a few and only briefly." But at least he's aware of them, along with a small handful of lore that may or may not be applicable. And Diana has been perfectly pleasant, kind, even, enough that he can give her the benefit of the doubt for now.
Careful, always, that cautious respect that such a creature demands in his mind, but he's used to diplomacy and more importantly, to general weird shit. This is less of a shock than pretty much everything else tonight. And after being kidnapped by faeries, even discussing their supernatural pedigree doesn't seem so strange.
After a second, he continues, "I'm more familiar with mages and other practitioners. I'm a trained combat sorcerer. Have been for most of my life." If that means anything to her, anyway, but he suspects she'll get it. They might even be from the same world, there's always a chance.
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But seriously!
Laz and Nandor and some of the older vampires were just so convinced that the humans were going to come after them with torches and pitchforks. And here was a dude being perfectly pleasant.
She gave a silent 'I told you so' to the multiverse, hoping Laz and Nandor would hear it, where ever they were.
In the meanwhile... "A combat sorcerer? I don't know that I've ever heard that particular phrase before."
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"Combat sorcerer, yes. I worked in private security." Is there a tactful way to say he hurt people for a living? Not really, and he's not precisely proud of that chapter of his life anyway.
"It covers a lot of ground, but it's mainly magic that can be cast quickly and on the move. Adaptable."
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Really, she tried to think of it as sweet.
Arty's love language was protection, or whatever.
But it wasn't always easy.
She gave Andrew a wry smile. "I imagine that there's a healthy overlap in the Venn diagram of private security and combat sorcery."
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It doesn't erase the weight of past sins, but it helps.
He gives Diana a quiet nod. "Assessing threats, protecting assets, being ready to deal with any sort of situation that might come up. It covers a lot of ground, but that's the core of it. Being able to adapt quickly, on the fly."
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She was still slightly soured by the vendor in the marketplace who tried to sell her a guitar for the price of 'the color of her eyes.'
Diana liked her lavender eyes very much. Despite the trouble they sometimes brought her.
"And besides the Fae," she continued, "the multiverse brings its own challenges to everyone's expectations."
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It's not like he has a lot of other options, after all. He survives.
"Trying to make sense of the Fae is usually like that," he agrees. "They're...alien, to us, creatures outside our sense of reason and logic, from all I've known of them in my own world." He huffs slightly, because he hates admitting something is outside his expertise. Even when it really, really is.
That last comment gets a new, considering gaze, a spark of concern. "What kind of challenges? I mean, besides the obvious...adjustments." Because waking up in a strange world with no cars or microwaves is going to take a little getting used to in any case.
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Diana was just a peacemaker. That was the crux of her problem. She wanted everyone to get along. She just didn't have the political savvy to actually accomplish it, most of the time.
"And then," she continued, "there's this thing that sometimes happens where there are multiple versions of, like, the same person. Which is uber weird, to start. And totes confusing. And, like, you run into people who you thought were dead, but they're from worlds where you're the dead one. Timelines, I think they call it. Very, very wiggy."
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The rest is even more concerning, though, diverting him from his curiosity, and he frowns deeply as he considers that.
People who are supposed to be dead. Other versions of people. Loose play with time and reality is a very Fae thing and he's not happy to hear it. Too many shadows in his past to think well of such things. The scar on his neck suddenly feels cold, and a little tighter than before.
"Wiggy," he says finally, still rolling that thought around like a particularly bitter piece of candy. "It sounds very unsettling. I know the Fae like their games, but...I can't say any of that thrills me."
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