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pixieledmemes2025-03-15 08:32 am
Test Drive Meme #2
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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 a garden party at the crack of dawn, with the sun still in its early stages of climbing through the yonder, casting a good mix of pastel hues of blue, pink, and beige on everything. Heralding the first day of spring, the Ruler of the Spring Court has found it fitting to arrange this gathering where guests can feel the blades of grass touching their ankles, as well as the rich soil beneath their feet. Flowers of all kinds surround the party as if they were carefully curated. With spring as the "dawn of seasons," which marks a transition from winter's latency to the resurgence of life everywhere, the Ruler of the Dawn Court has also seen it fit to host aspects of this party during the one time of the year that dawn occurs the whole day. Tall candles and torches grace the outskirts of the garden party, providing warmth and an orange glow everywhere. Not one flame goes out even with the occasional wind, the Duchess always makes sure of this.
There are also freshly picked blossoms and branches with leaves on every table accenting the festive spread of food and drinks. This time, a lot of the food prepared for the Adopted guests are familiar to them with a little bit of a twist. Burgers might come in small packages and in toothpicks, while hotdogs in buns are also diminutive. Cookies look delectable but they have a flowery flavor to them, as if eating freshly picked daisies or daffodils. Fruits that may have been present in an Adopted's home, such as pineapples and watermelons, have seeds in odd places. Picking this selection of food is an attempt to be more welcoming and to appease the lovely guests the fae have invited.
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.
A party is not complete without dancing, of course, and while during the last gathering held for the Adopted, different fae danced to music exclusively for them around a glowing tree, this time they are insisting their guests to join in.
This is a party for you, after all.
If the prodding of the different fae hosts won't convince you, perhaps the music will. They play easily recognizable tunes that their wonderful guests must have heard before. These melodies have certain unique effects to their mortal attendees, which are as follows:
- Upbeat Music: You will believe that you and your dance partner have been friends forever and have known each other a long time.
- Romantic Music: You will become amorous and flirtatious towards your dance partner.
- Slow Music: You will develop some tension with your dance partner. It may be negative or sexual; completely up to you.
- Quiet Music: You will assume your dance partner is a threat and try to fight them.
At the Spring King's behest, every Adopted should wear a flower corsage or boutonnière to the gathering. After all, this is to celebrate the coming of spring and what better way to do that than to honor everything in bloom.
The thing is, though, the King of Spring, while amorous and friendly, also has a penchant for playing with mortals' memories, if not also affect their desires and despairs.
So, mischievous as he is, he made sure to enchant the different flowers present in every corsage and boutonnière for the party with the effects below:
- Rose: You will recall a horrific trauma
- Carnation: You will see a vision of your future, whether it's good or bad
- Orchid: You will remember a time you lost someone
- Chrysanthemum: You will believe someone among the Adopted is your soulmate
- Dahlia: You will believe you betrayed someone important to you, whether you actually did or not
It is perhaps a good thing that no one but the Adopted are allowed to see these visions and memories, but everyone who wears a corsage or boutonnière will be able to see each other's memories and visions when in close enough physical proximity to the vision-haver, for better or for worse.
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.
Tell us all of a time you gave someone a gift. Perhaps a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates. Was it appreciated or not? A reward might await the most meaningful gift given.
no subject
It's nice that El is offering, but perhaps unfair to her, because she doesn't understand yet what Laura is. So she slips her hand away from El's while sayng, )
You don't have to. Watch.
( She holds her forearm up. From the opposite hand, two razor-sharp claws emerge in a flash. When she drags them over her arm deep enough to cut, to bleed, the skin knits closed again right behind them instantly. You see? )
I heal. I don't die.
( Nobody needs to protect her, especially not the ones who do die. She is getting so, so tired of losing everyone she meets and learns to care about. She would hate what happened to Nate to happen to El. )
no subject
She knits herself back together again, just like that. Like the wound was never even there.
Eleven sucks in a quick breath, then she reaches for Laura's arm. Touches it, drags her fingertips over where the cuts were and are no longer. Through the blood. Then her fingers reach for the hand with the claws - careful if they are still out, more eager if they're retracted by now. She wants to inspect, wants to see. ]
You heal. You don't die.
[ She looks back up at Laura. This is different. Different from Kali putting images into her mind, different from Eleven spying and breaking things.
Eleven is a gun. Laura is a knife.
Eleven is a gaping wound. Laura is a cut that closes. ]
Do you hurt?
no subject
Logan had been asked this once — does it hurt? He'd said every time, and the answer is true for Laura, too. She nods, just once. Yes, she hurts.
But it doesn't matter, because she heals, and she can't die. Who cares if she hurts?
Which is another thing Erik wouldn't like for her to say, so she swallows it down and says nothing instead, offering over her arm compliantly for El's thorough inspection. Aside from the blood, not a single trace remains. Not on her arm, not at her knuckles where the blades disappeared. Nothing. )
no subject
Eleven's fingers track of Laura's hand. The back of it, the knuckles, the palm. Not as much pressure here as there was on the arm. Her touches are light and careful. Because Eleven has craved care, she tries to give it.
Her powers hurt sometimes, too, but it's different. It's not metal in her body going in and out. It's a hurt in her chest and in her mind, not a wound opening and closing, making it look like nothing is there, like the hurt was never real, even when it was. Even when it is.
Laura says Eleven doesn't have to protect her, because she does not die. Eleven decides she must try to protect Laura, because Laura hurts.
She scoots her chair a bit closer. Mirrors Laura's pose with her legs drawn up, her own hand loosely cradled between bony knees in ill-fitting jeans. She still holds on to Laura's, of course.
Eleven makes an offer that's just as much a solemn vow: ]
I want to be. Your friend.
[ A friend is someone you'd do anything for. ]
no subject
The good news is, while she may not know how to be a child, or a daughter, she does know how to be a friend. The other children only had each other in Transigen, and their fierce dedication to one another was instrumental to their survival.
She misses them, but she would never wish them to be here in this place. This doesn't mean she can't make new friends; after all, she began with John, didn't she?
Her smile is small, but sincere. )
Si. We're friends.
( Said with a squeeze to El's hand, just to cement it. )
There are other people here that are good. I'll show you them.
no subject
[ It's sealed.
Eleven has friends back home she wishes to return to, still thinking she might be able to rip this world apart at the seams. She's done it at home on accident. Surely, she can do it here on purpose, eventually. But she has saved her friends, yet again, and while missing them sits in her chest like an empty ache, she can be content knowing that she did what she wanted to do.
They cannot save you, Jane
No. But I can save them.
She hopes she won't have to decide, again, between the friends who need her and the family that have need of her. It hurt to walk away from Kali, in spite of everything. But for now, she doesn't have to wonder if she will ever have to leave Laura to save Mike - or vice versa.
For now, Laura is here, and Laura is her friend. ]
People. Like us? [ She chews her bottom lip for a moment, in thought. Her eyes are hesitant. She does not trust easily, but... ] They are good? You promise?
no subject
Si. I promise.
( A beat. )
One of them is nice. The other is annoying and angry. He pretends he isn't good. But he is.
( John; he loves to irritate her, and say mean things, and be rude — but he protected her from a dragon. He's her friend, and so therefor he must be friends with her friends. As long as she's a mutant — and it sounds like she is; I spy, I break, Laura doesn't know what those things mean exactly, but it's bound to be something.
She gently tugs on their shared hands, twisting just a little to get a glimpse at El's tattoo again. )
Erik has a number, like yours.
no subject
[ A lesson Hopper taught her. Eleven doesn't know if it applies, but she will always echo the things that her people impress upon her, the lessons and directions and rules she picks up and applies to herself, and therefore the rest of the world. Her understanding of this is very universal.
Eleven follows Laura's gaze to the number. Sucks in a small breath when the number on Erik's arm is mentioned. She wonders which one it is. If it would be smaller than hers, or larger. If she could hold their arms next to each other and look at this stranger that Laura promises is good, and find kinship. ]
Erik. Do you know which number?
no subject
That John was angry to cover up being scared would not surprise her, but what is he scared of? Not fire, not people, not authority. Himself? Or is he afraid of hurting, of feeling hurt? Perhaps like Logan, he thinks if he's angry and people leave him right away, he doesn't have to worry about them leaving him later? This isn't a conclusion she comes to just yet, but it will be something she thinks about tonight, and the next several nights — slowly forming the theory over time.
In the meantime, she's busy concentrating on the memory of Erik's arm, summoning it up in her mind. She'd stared at the digits hard enough, she ought to remember, but it was very long-- )
Two one four... seven... something, lo lamento, no sé. It was too many numbers, and it makes him sad to look at. I don't think he likes to show it very much.
no subject
She does not wish to make Erik sad, however. Laura is offering Eleven her people like that's an easy thing, and Eleven treasures it. Will try to be like that, too, even if she is a greedy, jealous thing by nature.
She thinks of the red-headed girl talking to Mike. Pulling the skateboard out from under her, to see her fall. Spite nipping at her heels like rats. But Eleven has a very limited understand of what makes people good or bad, and she has yet to learn that the jealous way in which she clutches at the few things she has and loves can be eased without hurting.
For Laura, though, she will make an effort, because Laura is her friend. ]
Do you think mine will. Make him sad? I don't have to show it.
no subject
Yes, she thinks it will make him sad, but just because something is sad doesn't mean it isn't necessary. )
I think he will want to see.
( If there's another person with a number inked onto their arm permanently, he would want to know. If there's another one like them here, he would want to know. Or maybe she's just projecting, maybe she just wants him to know because she sees so much of herself in El, and Erik has helped her so much, surely he could do the same thing for her?
She's never had the opportunity to feel jealousy. Never had to share a parental figure before — she hasn't even come around to admitting that's what Erik is to her yet. Will that change when she finally sees Erik and El interacting? It's impossible to predict, but either way, it isn't on her mind right now. )
no subject
Eleven is for all intents and purposes alone, and Laura is who has chosen to not make her alone. That is what she will treasure, and that is what she will covet. Laura's hand, and Laura's kinship.
Eleven nods. A simple, solid acceptance. Laura says Erik will want to see the number, so Eleven will show the number.
It is, at the end of all things, just that easy to sway Eleven's fickle impulses. ]
Laura... [ She purses her lips. Thinks of the words, then makes sure to wrap her hand up with Laura's once again, fingers entangled. ] You help. Thank you.
🎀 !
This is something she will think about later, too.
In the meantime, her answer is simple. )
De nada.
( It's nothing; you're welcome. )