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pixieledmemes2025-07-15 09:03 am
Test Drive Meme #4
Welcome to the Pixie Led Test Drive Meme!
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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.
Unlike all of the other parties the Adopted have attended thus far, this one lacks the fae's usual easy elegance and ethereal beauty. Instead of dresses drenched in shining pearls and gems or sturdy tables full of the most mouth-watering food around, this party looks... cheap.
While the chasm between the Seelie and Unseelie courts has stopped growing, it also hasn't started shrinking. But when it comes to party planning, the Day Duke and the Summer Queen have thrown out the more traditional kind of party in favor of a summer celebration that their human pets might be familiar with. A Renaissance Faire.
But this is the fae interpretation of a human Ren Faire, complete with cheap, itchy costumes, cardboard stalls in the marketplace, and soft, plastic weaponry. Even the fae themselves seem to have gotten into the spirit of the event, masquerading - poorly - as humans playing faerie creatures. Everything within this crafted townsquare is absolutely fake, except for the plentiful faire food and drink that can not be avoided. Newcomers will have massive turkey legs, steaming apple dumplings, and overflowing wooden mugs shoved into their hands as they stroll through the faire.
As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately elf 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.
CW: loss of agency, character death
Between the faeries cosplaying as humans - flat, bland wigs and all - Adopted may catch a glimpse or three of strange figures slinking through the crowd, all dressed up in the same cheap robes, wearing masks made up to look like rats. If an Adopted attempts to catch one of these figures, they’ll find themselves drawn away from the lively crowd into some darkened corner of the faire, where the sound of the festival doesn’t quite reach. The rat man will say nothing if spoken to, only holding out a shining, jeweled crown that all Adopted will feel compelled to wear before they scurry away without a word.
And for most of the party, the rat men seem harmless enough, lurking around and handing out crowns, making a point to hit most of the Seelie court’s Adopted in particular. It just seems like another strange misinterpretation of human tradition by the fae, unintentionally sinister when really it’s all for fun.
But then the party goes silent.
One of the rat men descends into the market square with a cheeky little dance, pipe in hand, already playing a jaunty tune that carries from one end of the faire to the other. Any Adopted wearing a crown will be unable to resist the call of the music, dancing along to every note. And as the figure masquerading as a rat begins to step backwards away from the crowd, they'll find themselves following right after him, forced to mimic his every step.
If they are not stopped by those without crowns, the Adopted will eventually dance themselves right into the forest with their piper, blindly following him even as the trees themselves begin to twist in around them. The further they get from the party, the more the brush becomes so thick it suffocates, vines and branches curling around limbs, trapping the Adopted long enough that they'll be swallowed up completely by the forest, returned to their dorm bedrooms by morning.
CW: loss of agency, unintentional harm, blood and gore
There is a veritable trove of activities the adopted can pick from to entertain themselves for the evening as they battle the relentless heat and scorching sun. But don't be fooled, the activities present aren't mundane and offer some thrilling options.
It should be noted that while of the other weapons to be found all over the faire are plastic, Adopted will see for themselves that there is no mistaking that the items used in these games are incredibly real.
- 🦋 Axe throwing & Archery: Of course, this sounds simple enough, but upon stepping up and picking up your axe or bow, you will find that you cannot stop until all arrows or axes are used (the number of which we leave to you). And your target? Why another Adopted, of course. In a blink, some random Adopted (be they known to you or not) will be selected and strapped to the target board, unable to teleport or wiggle free, trapped in much the same way you are. Until the last munition is used, neither of you can escape.
- Hope you have good aim.
- 🦋 Jousting: Three parties are at war for the jousting trophy - the Seelie, the Unseelie, and the Adopted. Now's your chance to ride for your chosen patron's honor and saddle up. Upon getting on the horse of your chosen patron, it will become impossible to dismount until you win or lose. Take up your lance and shield (did we mention they didn't offer armor?) and knock your opponent off their horse first or risk your own impalement and subsequent dishonor.
- Do not fear, no matter what happens during this event, the horses will be perfectly safe. The Adopted however do not have that same protection.
- 🦋 Darts: Seems simple enough. Much like the other games, once you begin to play you cannot stop until you and your partner reach 0. Upon starting, everything is normal other than the compulsion, but once the first dart is thrown? Well, your partner better have a good constitution because when either of you throw, the other will be hurt in turn. The closer to the bullseye you are, the more painful it will be.
- Isn't teamwork great?
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, tell us all of a time when you saw through a facade that fooled everyone around you. Perhaps the most compelling story will receive a reward from us.
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Finally, Aemond is letting his head fall back against the wooden target, his view filling with the open summer sky. It reminds him of simpler times. It's also sickening. ]
Do you think they always had that plan for us? [ His voice is distant, something far away, the cooling embers of his anger freezing over into detachment. ] Sire us, train us, trot us out for war. Like prized hounds.
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His body moves on his own accord, another arrow nocked and released, digging into the wood to the right of Aemond's throat. As that eye drifts up, focusing on the bright summer sky, another arrow lands just next to it. A silent command. Look at me. ]
Yes. [ Jacaerys' voice is calm, a dead sea, dangerous and hollow. ] Hounds, at least, are put out of their own misery when the time comes. I will have to sacrifice myself before I become useless and face the torment of being cast aside for it. [ Jacaerys draws another arrow but he holds it. ] Where do you want it?
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Jorepare kessyt morghon rhaenilā geptot Vermaks, [ he murmurs, his voice almost like a prayer, rasping and unusually soft. ] Mērī zaldrīzesse īlvyz qūvrirzi ojehikilzi. [ Perhaps, even here, even now, they are as alike as they ever were. Two dark mirrors.
It's with a slow smirk that Aemond delivers his next response: ] You know where.
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Ivestrās yne. Skoriot Vagar issa, hegnīr morghon rhaenō rīglot?
[ They understand each other, perhaps in a way no one else ever will. It's always been this way. ]
So be it. [ Jacaerys shifts, aims for the space right between his eyes and at the last second, tips the bow back to that it lodges itself into the target right above the crown of Aemond's head. ] I missed.
[ It's clear that's a lie. One last arrow, and Jacaerys nocks and fires, the point cleanly slicing through a lock of Aemond's hair. Stalking down the range, Jacaerys takes it in hand as he pulls the arrow out and tucks his prize away. ] Here I am, [ he says, looking Aemond in the eye. ]
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Instead of replying to Jacaerys' question, he narrows his eye, pinning him with an intense look as he braces himself. When the next arrow misses, Aemond exhales hard in annoyance, but doesn't move. His fingers curl, clenching into a white-knuckled grip. Does he really believe Jacaerys will kill him? He certainly hopes so.
By the time he loses a lock of hair, and Jacaerys approaches, Aemond is breathing hard, shaky with adrenaline that's wearing off fast. ] Here you are, [ he repeats, a little mystified, a little guarded, eyeing Jacaerys with a searching look. Then he shoves him back against the target board, an arm pressing against his throat. ] Don't believe for a second I owe you for this.
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Instead, he focuses on his target, on the man in front of him, even as his back is pressed into the wood and his neck pinned beneath a lean forearm. ]
What do you owe me? I missed. [ Jacaerys' voice is strained from the compression against his throat but no less defiant. His eyes blazed with it, bright and fierce, as he looks up at Aemond. ]
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[ As much as he hates this, there's so much sadness in Aemond right now. He's on the verge of tears, panting hard, pressing into Jacaerys as though desperate for connection instead of conflict. It's as confusing to him as it might be to others, and after a moment, he pulls away, stalking off somewhere into the crowd.
He doesn't want Jacaerys seeing him like this. He doesn't want anyone to. ]
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Gasping, it takes Jacaerys a moment to collect himself before he realises that Aemond has begun to slip away into the crowd. His voice is hoarse as he calls out to him. ] Don't walk away from me, Aemond.
[ He weaves through the crowd and grasps Aemond's arm once it's in reach, turning him. The look on that sharp face makes Jacaerys feel as if he's choking again. He tugs gently. ] Come with me.
[ It's a command in theory, but spoken like a request. ]
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Where would you lead me, if not to my death? [ His voice cracks. It only makes him angrier. ] Do not test me. [ He's in Jacaerys' space now, sneering, voice dripping with venom even if his violet eye tells a very different story — as though he is the one cornered. ] You know what I'm capable of.
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Pikare nykē. [ More insistent this time, fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand holding him in place. ] Avy rhēden. Avy rhēden kese dokimarje ao iksā. Kesa avy ērinas daor. [ Jacaerys tugs again, intending to pull Aemond free of these crowds to a place where they can talk without prying eyes or ears, if he will follow. ]
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Skoros iksan iksis iā dyni, [ he chokes on the words, tearing through them with bared teeth. ] Ao gīmigon bisa. Jeme gīmigon bisa. [ It sounds like he's trying to convince himself of this. ]
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[ Curling his fingers tighter, Jacaerys looks briefly into that eye before leading him away, until the roar of the party is dull and distant. ]