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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.
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perhaps i misspoke! i am merely a god :)
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What are you good for, if you do not smite? A half-decent god has infallible judgment on his side, does he not?
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a bit less showy, i will admit, but the result is sometimes far crueler
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[Now there's a tongue twister.]
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[It's one of the reasons why he goaded this loki person to smite him. He deserves the smiting! come on!]
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but if you are a skeptic already, that will do little to reassure you of my godhood. after all, i could be a fae myself or a simple wizard
what do you make of all this anyhow?
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I am entirely assured that this is not a dream or a delusion, so rest easy on that. The proofs are in what I have felt, seen, and experienced, and proofs of what I previously considered impossible have been given to me in abundance.
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is smiting all it will take then? i'm not currently pressed to prove myself, but might as well keep that in mind
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It is quite silly, is it not, to condemn fantastic explanations in the name of science. There is a word for people who will not accept the evidence as presented, and it is called denial. But denial, though natural to many men, is often temporary, and most move well past it sooner or later with enough reinforcement. 'Scientific' reasoning and sound observation will get them to the right conclusion eventually, about greater forces at play.
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the mystery's more fun, i think
i sincerely hope loki fucks with javert in the future
On that we agree. So why not use your omniscience to spin me a good mystery, and have a little fun in the process?
loki proving omniscience by telling him about the musical and shoujo cosette
perhaps you could try and find me. match my demeanor to my face.
i could give you a few hints as well, if you think you might need them
I fucking saw so many iterations of the musical... and all of shojo cosette... (HIDE AND SEEK!!!)
I retreated to a quiet space for a moment to examine this loathsome machine, but I can come out. I will play. Do you agree to the terms?
SAME...
if those are your only terms, then i agree.
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But I digress. I retract my condition and leave the hinting entirely in your hands. Shall we begin?
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little clues and riddles seemed ideal, and rather classic
let's begin. rejoin the merriment.
[In truth, Loki has no idea what this man looks like, but the timing of their game should make it easy enough to spot someone. Before sending the final message, they themselves had retreated upwards to a spot in the trees. The message sent and thus opposable thumbs no longer needed, Loki shifts into the form of a magpie and waits.]
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[Javert slips his Leaf back into his pocket and glides to his feet. He takes a moment to gather himself up and stretch his tired, sore bones, giving his neck a crack, each ankle a slow roll. And he is off, sweeping out of the gardens and back towards the main ballrooms, his coat skirts (now dried from their dip in the Seine, though the dank smell of murky waters still clings to the fibers) swishing with each broad, deliberate step.
He, himself, has no special magic powers, but he does have the benefit of decades of strong detective work under his belt. His eyes are keen, his attention to detail exacting; he might not know Loki's face, but he knows when to trust his intuition when his senses scream, Look sharp! A spy is afoot! Until he is alerted and reaches that point, he weaves a meandering path through the swells of partygoers, his muzzle wrinkled as if intent to sniff out a pest.]
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The magpie descends from its roost, disappearing into the crowds. And then- Hm. Was that woman always there? She must have been just behind someone, obscured from view somehow. She is tall, though not quite tall enough to stand out, and her hair is long and dark, cascading down her shoulders. Her clothes, while all green, are similar to the others, blending in with the Fae and the Adopted alike.
Loki mingles with those surrounding her, taking a bite of some appetizer another person has said is a must-try. If Javert's gaze starts to find her, he'll feel a tiny tap on his shoulder from behind. If he turns, however, there will be no one there to greet him. And when he looks back, she will have moved onto some other part of the party.
Still, she'll play fair. She won't change her form, though she could easily sneak away as another of the Adopted. She could just sneak away plain and simple, claim to be there when she's really in hiding. She could have even stayed as a bird, watching him struggle from up on high. But truthfully, she wants him to find her.]
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The prickle struck him, time and again, an inkling that someone had eyes for him and followed his weaving movements across the ballroom. At first he kept it calm and cool. He would turn, thoughtful and languid, to search for the eyes peering his way. And every time, someone would press him on his shoulder; he would inevitably turn, and by the time he whirled back around his lead was gone, and he was left floundering. He gathers fragments of an impression with every glance, commonalities strung together each time he is teased with a distracting tippy-tap-tap: a glimpse of emerald green out of the corner of his eye, rich dark locks of hair brushing past the shoulders, a regal and mischievous curve of the lips set into a pale face. Another trait would pile on the heap with each of his missed chances, and out of the pool of traits, a full picture emerges.
At one point, he thinks he's seized something, clapping a hand on a shoulder and whirling the figure around to look him full in the face. But it is only a startled and cross Fae woman, the ears too pointed, eyes too light, lips too red, cheeks too plumped and flecked with gold. He murmurs an economical apology and moves on, empty-handed.
Bizarrely, Javert discovers that this hunt kindles a faint spark in his belly. It's not much, but it's something resembling anticipation, not unlike his manhunts which stretched far into the wee hours of the morning. More than once, he is tempted to pull out his Leaf and send a note loki's way. His fingers itch: Madame loki, is it? or Clever mistress, are you not! He stubbornly resists, intent on finding her without tipping his hand.
After some time into the search -- he cannot keep track of the minutes, hasn't any clue how long it's been in his dreamlike drifting -- he flags the attention of someone he swears may have tapped him on the shoulder, asking in a silken murmur,]
Can you point me toward someone who calls herself Loki? I am in the right spot for out meeting, but to my embarrassment, I have misplaced her person.
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