sure, jan

[maskormods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping into MASK OR MENACE? Want to dip your toes into the setting and get a feel of whether your character will fit into it? Or maybe you're just cruising and want to play around? Then you've come to the right place!

Pick any of the following scenarios below or feel free to make up your own, but don't be afraid to throw yourself at anyone's thread, either!

And remember to have fun!

01. Your memory is hazy and you might feel increasingly frustrated or anxious, or maybe you're excited as soldiers march past, barely glimpsing you. One second you're somewhere underground, the next you're enveloped in blue light, and suddenly you find yourself directly under Flordia sun's bright and burning glare. A female soldier steps toward you with a wide smile on her face and directs you to a car, ready to debrief you. You realize you are not the only one, surrounded by equally confused or eager faces... and you're all sporting a digital tattoo on your wrist.

02. Welcome to Cape Canaveral, where the smell of the ocean is in the air and locals are more than pleased to see new imPorts roaming their streets. They wave, they cheer, they ask for pictures as politely as they can. The more inhuman you look, or if you're wearing a costume, the more likely locals are to approach. Hey, enjoy the moment! The popular malt shop is offering you a free drink if you need it.

03. The technology in this world is certainly something. The cars are clearly modeled after popular 50s cars, but they hover several feet above the ground as they drive down the street. There are digital jukeboxes in restaurants, motorcycles also hover through traffic, advertisements can be seen on a digital projector on the taller buildings. Even kids on skateboards appear to drift a safe ten feet off the ground while playing!

04. Wherever you are, you can hear the loud revving of an engine, distance at first before you finally see it: a hovercar bursting around the corner, going beyond the maximum speed limit and just barely making its sharp turn. It doesn't appear to be slowing down any time soon, not with two police cars trailing it... and uh oh. Those skateboarding kids don't have much time to get out of the way as the car comes speeding down the road. You've been brought here for a reason Hero — so you better act fast.

Comments

Draco Malfoy / that series of books about wizards

[pureblooded]

Muggles.

Crowds and crowds of them.

They had stopped approaching him, at least. After sneering at the first few who approached him, he had taken to simply refusing to respond to their grovelling for his attention. He ought to turn them all into beetles and step on them. If there had been fewer, he would have. They were as insidious as insects, crawling over everything in sight.

He found a bench and scared the two small girls into running away so that he could have it to himself. He sat with his arms folded uncomfortably across his chest, glowering at anyone who dared come near.

This was a mistake of some kind. It had to be. He would go back to that muggle place he had come from and demand they return him. He didn't belong here, after all. He certainly wasn't going to help their pathetic little war. He had his own war to support back home. He already had his mission.

His stomach gurgled hungrily. He ignored it.

[deosil]

"I don't suppose you have more than four lives, do you?"

Ignoring the frightened girls scurrying past, Chise was crouched down a few feet away from the bench. By her feet was a fat orange tabby tom backing in the warm afternoon sun. And there she was, casually trying to chat up a cat more interested in napping than talking.

"I know your king in Ulthar," She said with a bit more force, "If you're not inclined to speak with non-magic humans that's fine - I'm not."

It was after several failed attempts that made trying to squeeze blood from a stone the easier task, did Chise notice the dour boy with the pointed pale face grimacing on the bunch. And he probably just saw her talking to a car.

"...Ah."

[pureblooded]

Draco sneered as she looked up at him. He had seen her interaction with the cat, and she was clearly a few feathers short of an owlery. This, at least, was a situation Draco knew how to deal with.

"Often talk to cats, do you? I could have guessed someone like you wouldn't have any real friends."

[deosil]

"Someone like me." She echoes flatly, looking at the boy who looked like he already had opinion formed on everything and everyone. The type was no stranger to her.

"Do you have any real friends?"

[pureblooded]

He looked affronted. "Of course. I don't need to resort to stray pests for conversation."

[deosil]

She feels it - magic. Wafting off him like steam of water throwing over a hot stove top. She cocks her head to the side and regards Draco with a curious if suspicious look.

"Shouldn't you know about this stuff?"

[pureblooded]

"What? About friends?" Draco hadn't been listening to what the girl had been saying to the cat earlier, no doubt it was something inane.

There had been girls like that at Hogwarts, who fawned over their pets. There were even the ones who researched just how to speak to their pets, which while not easy was nevertheless a waste of time and effort, in Draco's opinion.

[bindsthedead]

Unfortunately, Sabriel had not been able to locate a change of clothes. Which left her feeling rather ridiculous, running around in a hauberk and surcoat when the clothing around her was much closer to Ancelstierrian fashions.

Still, she wasn't intimidated by glaring- particularly from someone around her age. So she sat down and took out her communicator, fiddling around with it and looking over posts.

[pureblooded]

Draco had seen the girl in strange clothes move through the crowd. It was hard to miss someone who stuck out like a blast-ended Skrewt in a cabbage patch.

Of course she would sit down next to him, without even asking if the seat next to him was taken. She even took out the communicator that Draco had stubbornly ignored to try. Muggle technology, eugh.

"Do you mind? This seat is taken."

[bindsthedead]

"There's enough space for both of us," Sabriel said. Her tone was curt, and she turned her attention back to the device, muttering to herself.

"So it's like a radio and a telegraph, and it shows films- how do they make it work without magic?"

[pureblooded]

About to interrupt her musings with a demand that she remove herself, Draco stopped short at the mention of magic. He knew little enough about muggles, but he knew they did not know about magic. He proceeded cautiously, not at all concerned with interupting her after she had so rudely ignored him.

"What would you know about magic?"

[bindsthedead]

"A considerable amount," Sabriel said, tracing a glowing symbol in the air with her finger that collapsed into a tiny point of light when she finished drawing it.

"I am a mage of some skill, after all." A small smile tugged at her lips, "I assume you have some experience with it as well?"

[pureblooded]

Draco didn't smile at the sight of the magic sigil, but his posture eased slightly. This girl might be a half blood or worse, but for now he would take what he could get.

"Of course," came his self-assured reply. He held up his hand, sending a bright shower of sparks out of his finger. That was simple enough wandless magic. "Where do you study?" He hadn't seen her around Hogwarts.

[bindsthedead]

It's not Charter Magic- but it isn't Free Magic either. Sabriel observes it with curiosity, but not alarm. So there really are other worlds, with other kinds of magic.

"At Wyverley College, under Magistrix Greenwood- I graduated shortly before arriving here," And then she'd had to travel to the Old Kingdom. "Where did you study?"

[pureblooded]

Those were schools and wizards completely unfamiliar to him. Draco frowned. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, under the old oaf Dumbledore." His face showed none of the mix of emotions that now came attached to that name.

"Where is Wyverly College? Is it on the continent?" It might have been one of the small magical colleges. Draco knew there were some still teaching, for students who either could not or would not travel to a large school like Hogwarts or Drumstrang.

[bindsthedead]

"Ah- no, it's in Ancelstierre. It's just south of the Old Kingdom- I'm afraid I've never heard of Hogwarts, or this Dumbledore." It seemed like an odd name for a school, in Sabriel's opinion. Although if it taught nothing but magic... well, that might be interesting.

[doneproperly]

On the next bench over is a well dressed young man of indeterminate age reading a newspaper. Indeterminate because, at first glance, he certainly behaves as if he should be in his mid-twenties. He wears a tailored, somewhat expensive-looking three-piece suit (even in Florida), though he forgoes the tie and leaves his top button undone in a manner he certainly thinks is very dashing. Everything about his body language exudes an air of quiet confidence-- someone who is used to making decisions, to giving orders and having them be obeyed. It's not the over confidence of youth, or of a spoiled child. He has no need to sneer down at others, he's secure in his position.

But a second glance betrays that image of a much older man. His face is young-- very young. Draco's age, perhaps. Seventeen or eighteen.

He doesn't actually just come here to read the newspaper on a bench, really. He comes here once a month because it's a popular spot for new imPorts when they just start wandering around and wondering where to go from here. He observes them as he pretends to read, usually choosing only to observe rather than to engage.

This young blond man is different, however. He reminds Mandrake nothing so much as of himself, and the comparison is unsettling. More than that, though-- he senses another magic user. And that's rare enough, here. So he continues pretending to read his newspaper (like he's not all the interested, like the pretentious twat he is) as he turns his head ever so slightly to speak to Draco. When he does, his tone is mild.

"Are you hoping to glare a hot meal out of thin air?"

[pureblooded]

Mortified at his stomach, Draco proceeds as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened- except his being rudely addressed by a complete stranger.

"I had been hoping to be left alone, but perhaps manners here aren't what I'm used to back home." Clearly this man had no manners to speak of. Was he a man though? Glaring back at him, Draco couldn't properly tell what his age was.

[doneproperly]

Mandrake raises a single arched brow, careful to show he's completely unruffled by Draco's retort. He knows what this is-- the typical power struggle between two people just meeting, both wanting to assert their position as higher than the other. It's comfortingly familiar, really. This is what he understands. People who are selfish, people who have an image to maintain for whatever reason, trading thinly veiled barbs for fun.

He folds the paper in front of him, seemingly done.

"And I had been hoping to read the paper in peace," he says calmly, not rising to the bait. "But it seems that we cannot always get what we want."

His accent is British, as well. London, and posh. Well bred, clearly enunciated, and not at all fazed by sulky bullshit.

i had to, i'm sorry

[ballbutt]

A sniveling look and a haughty posture was all that Colorman needed to figure that the human sitting on the bench was one of those types. The types that got easily riled up and were extremely amusing to harass. Colorman loved anything that was amusing, so without a second thought he walked straight up to the bench Draco sat on and plopped himself down on the vacant space right next to him. And did nothing else.

Draco's reaction to his appearance alone would be more than hilarious enough.

[pureblooded]

Drawing himself and squaring his shoulders, Draco turned on the newcomer. This really was intolerable.

"Are those glasses just for show? This seat is taken."

[horsepiss]

Through pure coincidence, Locke had been lingering adjacent to the bench watching the scene unfold with mild disinterest. Dressed as commonly as anyone else on the block, he has the privilege to resume walking without incident, yet the speed with which the girls scurry away leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The sneers he gives them only makes it taste more bitter. Still, he's suffered through arguments aplenty the past few days; his wits are exhausted. At least, that's what he tells himself. His mouth, on the other hand, has a different view.

"You know I think those girls had a sandwich. Maybe you can beat them up for it. You know, while you're at it. Complete the whole "I'm a basard" look." Locke motions around his face as he speaks, denoting his demeanor.