etcelsior | Lies a place that few have seen.

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Lies a place that few have seen.

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 someone else's thread, either!

And remember there's only one rule in Test Drive Meme Club: have fun!

01. The city of Heropa is what one might expect from a small, bright and cheery place, where locals are friendly enough and local shop owners might offer a free drink to welcome you to their fair city. Some of the locals might thank you for always lending your service to the nation, while others might not say anything -- but if you have something nasty to say, better not say anything at all, right? This month has been a rocky one, and locals are beginning to eye imPorts with renewed scrutiny; if people like them can get superpowers, are imPorts really that special, after all? Some people usher their children away from anyone clearly not 'from around here,' while other natives may be brave enough to directly approach obvious imPorts and ask their thoughts on the war with Russia and what the imPort ambassadors are planning to do about it.

ImPorts are a divisive issues, even in pretty Heropa.

02. De Chima, Virginia, is a large city with a healthy economy, and though it's quieter, there are just as many citizens awed at your very presence. Look at you! Organic wonder! Science and technology are the lifeblood of this city, so you're likely to come across a good many locals taking your picture with the newest of devices. The imPort craze is at an all-time high, and you may find yourself cornered by overzealous imPort fans, media wannabes and opportunists alike, shoving cameras in your face.

Their questions are likely to be fairly mundane, however; get ready for an interview about your taste in romantic partners, personal underwear choices, favourite foods, and more!

Also, as the Halloween craze is reaching a fevered pitched, more and more children are running around in costumes of their favorite imPorts! Do you recognize any of these masks? Perhaps one of these costumes mimics YOU!?

...

Isn't that kinda creepy?

03. Maurtia Falls, Pennsylvania is populated by a whole lot of people who are having awfully bad days. With the emergence of locals with superpowers, many seem to have latched onto their new supercharged identities with an incredible amount of gusto. As your character walks down the street, they may find themselves accosted by a large man in his mid-20s, dressed in an ill-fitting spandex suit of orange and yellow. As he thrusts his finger into an imPort's face, the spandex rides up, turning into more of a crop-top, which he duly tugs back down before shouting, "You're not the special ones anymore, imPorts! Feel the wrath of Heartburn!"

Stupid name aside, he does seem to have superpowers as he breathes a large plume of fire. His aim still isn't great, though; it could hit the imPort in question, or be sent in the direction of a nearby local, or even a particularly flammable building.

What will you do, Hero?

04. Nonah, North Carolina, is the liveliest of all cities; loud, busy and there's some kind of energy in the air that gets everyone buzzing with excitement. This fine day, pumpkin spice seems to be in style, to the point at which you happen to be crashing an open pumpkin spice festival. From drinks to sweet treats to some other things that really, really shouldn't be pumpkin spice flavoured (pumpkin spice flavoured vodka, anyone? It tastes like regret!), everyone seems to be in the mood for the upcoming season.

Taste test a few samples and take in the hustle and bustle of the city, everyone! And hey, if just gorging yourself isn't enough, why not try your hand at the pumpkin carving contest going on? The competition is fierce!

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[Yeah. There are reasons Yuu has been frustrated given the timing of his being pulled here by the Porter. Not even Mika could reassure him Guren was okay. If anything what the blonde told him made Yuu all the more anxious. Still, now there's Shinya here.]

I just asked because it....it can be different, even for people from the same home. Mika remembered more back home than I did. But I've been here a few months now, I guess. Why?

[His gaze follows Shinya's, a small smile at his own lips as he sees the kids, who give a wave, recognizing Yuu from work.]

[ She takes the cigarette, eyes hooding by way of 'thank you'. Her hands are clean but each nail has a fine grey crescent beneath them, and they're ragged at the edges. There'd been only a slight warming up around the freckles at casual talk of porn and ugly partners, but when it comes to casual obscenities, she has worse friends than Kavinsky. Probably. Maybe.

It's just he's not a friend. But she will share a cigarette, taking a modest draw, holding onto it in her chest before sighing it out. Nerves calming. One last nip before offering it back.

She sits knees together, and with terrible posture. ]

He said sarcastically, [ she says, a touch of whimsy in her tone. The volume of her voice only barely makes it over the top of city noise ambience. ]

I -- not literally. The other ones seem to subsist on just candy, actually... -- anyway, what I do is -- chase away nightmares, I guess. I haven't actually attempted it or anything --

[And then comes the 'wild mane' comment and he laughs outright, pushing the aforementioned mane behind his shoulder. Well, at least he cut his bangs back so he can see. Past Riku didn't have that going for him. (Though with a blindfold he didn't really need it anyway...)]

Indeed. Though this was a thing before the wings. I've tried the short hair, it doesn't work.

[Back before he'd gone home and taken his exam, Sora had told him "you cut your hair and Kairi laughed", and Riku had resolved, after not cutting it since he arrived, to continue to let it be long. But then he went home again, and upon his return, the memory of the short hair fresh in his mind, he'd stared at the long hair in the mirror and wondered what the hell he'd been thinking. No wonder she laughed...]

You met anyone else from home yet? There's a handful of us.

[ It's a non-descript sort of day. Dorian rises early, tends his garden as best he can, then heads into town when his stomach declares it's time for sustenance. ( Cooking is a thing he still doesn't much care for and it's only done when he and Cullen meet in their joined backyards. Open fire is the way to go; he's not going near those microwaves again!!! ) Though it's only been a small handful of months, he's become used to the ways of this place. At least enough to make a play at fitting in. This isn't somewhere he wants to be, but he's willing to bide his time until an opportunity arises to set them free. They are lacking in leadership here, which is what it is, but there is confidence that some of them will figure something out. Even with all the advances of this world.

Anyway.

Today has him running a few errands in town of a few things he needs, so he's absconded with Pup to help carry his parcels back home. ( He's no pack mule, but he has his own canvas tote to help since cars are still a thing Dorian doesn't like using... ) Because the sun is shining and the weather is temperate, Dorian is unsuspecting of what vileness lies in wait at a café he frequently visits.

He's chattering away to Pup—a side effect he just pays no mind to anymore; he may not understand the dog, but knows he listens—as he carries their treats to a table ( because it wouldn't be fair to eat and not share ). Of course, he finds the perfect table and sees what's just there beside it. Dorian's stomach twists violently and Pup's hackles are raised at the same time. It takes all of Dorian's self-control not to drop the cup and plate to the floor. Fire burns in his chest and he can feel it gathering in his fingertips. He could do them all a favor right now and take this repugnant elf out, just like that. This is the man who broke the trust and spirit of his dearest living friend. That's not something he can forgive. Not to mention the whole reshaping the world in his crazy image.

Calmly he sets his things down on a nearby table. Calmly he tells Pup to stay there, don't move unless necessary. And calmly still does he stride over to Solas. Dorian places a palm flat on the table and leans in close; his voice is a nasty hiss, anger and the fire of his magic brighten his eyes. Behind him the rumbling unhappy growl sounds from Pup. ]

Come out of hiding so soon? I'm amazed to see you upright instead of crawling around on your belly.

[ It's an insult to snakes, but. He'll be forgiven. ]

[ It's okay, Solas. It's Halloween! Know one even knows you dress up really weird normally, at least for today. Even Hawke won't give him a second glance (only one, mildly curious, but she isn't one to outright ask if someone's ears are real or fake for the day). She probably should have given him a second glance, but with how the timeline has worked out here, the Champion is so far back on it that the people of the Inquisition are unknown up until they introduce themselves, sometimes politely, sometimes by blaming her for the entire war, occasionally by yelling at her or, most commonly, with extreme confusion.

Anyway, none of that really matters right now, since she's only in Heropa to pick up a few things. The first thing: coffee, which she has stopped for. Unlike a large chunk of Heropa's population, she isn't doing the whole costume thing right now, although the jeans and t-shirt are a vast change of pace from her usual gear. That's what she's wearing when she flops down into a seat at a table next to his, one that had previously been occupied only by several dogs supposedly waiting for their owner to return. Hawke is not actually that owner, but she told them to stay put while she ordered regardless. ]

Now let's see what else he wanted... [ Talking to herself? Talking to the dogs? Does it matter? Once her coffee is settled on the tabletop, she'll pull out a mostly crumpled list, look it over, take a moment to stare at it in mild despair. ] Aaaapparently a lot of nonsense. Did he write half of these down as equations? [ Right. Great. She tosses that down on the table alongside the coffee. ] Yeah, that's not happening. Looks like we're officially done for the day, boys.

[ It's barely even out of the morning, but yep, that's right, doggos, job (of doing absolutely nothing useful) well done. This does not bother the random dogs laying around her table, who, as dogs do, just seem happy to be included. ]

De Chima - Power Armor

For once in their life, Bel Thorne had no particular idea what to do with attention. The atmosphere in De Chima (a place Bel had picked in the Porter room on a whim and having no better place to go) was exciting enough.

The armor the mercenary was kitted out in was more than enough to grab the attention of the enthusiastic population. Heavy, designed and scarred by combat (some of those marks, very, very fresh), it was adorned by a stylized lion's face in front of stylized wings and a red field - the standard of Bel's ship, the Ariel.

Instead of inspiring fear, as one might expect in a pre space planet - it garnered excited talking, questions about what they were doing the next few days and CAN YOU SWING US UP MISTER??

As you find this person hidden by bulky, imposing armor designed to make a person into a one man army - they're currently engaged in lifting one of the local kids with one hand. Another, their sister, by the looks, laughs and swings from the metal arm.]

Okay, one more time, but I have to get going after that. [The voice, a low alto, is not particularly cold, despite the complaints.]

Nonah - Pumpkin Spice Lament

[A few days in after arriving, Bel had found a nice pair of jeans and t-shirt (stating RISE UP! in bright red) and had begun venturing out to explore this bizarro version of Earth they'd landed on somehow.

The important thing, they decided, was to find out about this culinary, limited time treat that seemed to make everyone go wild. There were only days until everything turned to peppermint and chocolate. The time to strike was now.

They took one hearty swig of the pumpkin spice vodka they'd bought to sample (and bring back to their crew) and.

Coughed. Spluttered.]

Oh god.

I'm. Here! Take the rest!

[Blindly, they shove the bottle at you, whoever you are.]

[ Gregor, of course, recognizes the power armor immediately, and Bel's flat Betan accent and appearance no less so. That wasn't all that long ago for him, and in addition he has a rather encyclopedic memory for names and faces as something of a survival skill.

He's nonetheless surprised to see them, and relieved that it is a surprise, and not one more person with access to his head and him having access to theirs. He stands to the side, any alarm relieved completely by the jovial atmosphere of Bel giving children lifts. ]

I should think so, [ he says amiably, seeing his cue. ] Or you'll be counted remiss for not reporting in, Captain.

[At the address, the person in the armor stops, and behind the blank faceplate of the armor, stared. They set the brother of the two children down and grasp at the release, pulling off helmet and disruptor netting to gap at the Goddamn Emperor Of Goddamn Barrayar on a busy street on a weird shouldn't exist world. That has to be someone's nightmare. Not theirs, thank God.

(The children sound out disappointment that the person in the suit wasn't an alien "AW! Just a human!" and scramble off. On the other hand, the tech itself has a lot more casual adult interest.)

Gregor can probably watch the herm think quickly, calculating before settling on the name that Miles had given Bel on that frantic fast courier trip to Vervain.]

Greg. [HOW DO YOU EVEN SAY THIS? ... The worst way possible, and with good cheer:] You certainly get around.

Should I take that as I have an Admiral somewhere to report IN to?

[ It's been a while since he had a reaction like that and it is, dare he say it, satisfying. Odd to think he'd spent so long railing against his status and now that he's (mostly) out from under it, he's starting to appreciate it.

He quirks a self-aware little half-smile, accepting the teasing. ] You do. In this city, actually. And seeing as I had no choice in coming here, they had no choice but to let me out. [ Something Gregor hasn't stopped appreciating, honestly. ]

[ Mark, before coming here - just before coming here - had come to know about the Dendarii. But he hadn't had time to learn about their insignia, nor their members - beyond the inimitable Admiral Naismith, of course. So when he sees Bel, he doesn't register anything beyond simply new imPort, fine. And so when he stumps by the cheerful scene he doesn't pause - until the little girl's foot swings back a little too far and smacks him in the face right when he was about to pass by.

He stumbles back, clutching his nose. ]

Fuck!

You don't sound put out.

[In fact, the guy certainly seemed a lot happier than the last time Bel had worked with him. Though, that was certainly explainable by the circumstances.

Bel tucks their helmet under their arm and cocks their head, looking over Gregor curiously. When does this sort of chance happen? Silly question.]

I could use a guide if you're heading back.

The girl, being of just that right age, to understand actions and consequences had an immediate answer. "I DIDN'T DO IT!"

Whoever is behind the imposing armor sets her down hurriedly, "It's okay. Here. Apologize to the..." the gentle tone trails off... and then brittles, sharp and knifelike as they place, after a moment, that voice... It took longer to find the features they knew under all of that weight, doughing up the edges.

"Nevermind! Don't bother wasting your time with that one." They wave at the kids, who hesitate, unsure at this strange order of things... but eventually flee, fearing wrath from the short man holding his nose.

"You." In a word, it's a curse, a plague and a pox, laid out evocatively in tone, dripped in censure.

Yeah?

[ Mark is distracted with his nose - not broken, as it turns out, not even bleeding, but painful enough to take all of his attention for several moments. And then he looks up and sees the face of whoever this is - short hair, not wholly masculine or feminine...Not someone he's encountered before. At least, he thinks not. Someone he's screwed over, maybe? In business? No, he'd probably remember...

That's - a lot of hatred, though. An absolutely poisonous look. His hand drops as he half-consciously redistributes his weight to balance himself. Tough to fight against someone in combat armor. He'd prefer not to. It'd hurt. ]

Who're you?

I'd think a Betan mercenary could understand the desire to see other things, [ he comments, which is neutral enough as not to be self-incriminating but pithy enough to keep the conversation going.

Gregor turns and gestures for the herm to join him. ] Certainly. He might be at the café; we should check there first. [ He knows exactly where he is, of course, but isn't ready to let on about the telepathy-- and for that matter isn't sure how Miles will decide to handle what to tell Bel about who he is.

He hopes he just tells them for simplicity's sake, since secrets like that aren't going to survive long, but he won't overstep his boundaries there either. ]

Are you kidding?

[The look doesn't get any less venomous. Hatred boils into outright fury as they shift as well. It's aggressive, but they haven't moved to attack yet...for some odd reason, they're holding back.]

After all that, you expect that to fly? You know damn well who I am, Mark.

[That little detail brightened Bel's demeanor a few more notches.] Oh, that's right. Earth would have real coffee. Let's check there anyway.

[For their own side of things, Bel remains just as neutral. Would Miles keep themselves a secret from his own planet? It could explain a few things... Who knows how that insane mess they called a ruling class worked. They rather liked the errant nobility double life theory, as potentially unlikely as it was.]

How long have you been here? It seems wildly different from the Earth I'd dropped down on.

[ That's - far more than the anger Mark would expect from just a business transaction gone wrong. And it suddenly registers...the strangeness about this person's voice. Betan accent. They're Betan. Hermaphrodite? Possibly - But when did Mark ever cross a Betan?

And how do they know his name...? They're from his future. They have to be. And so Mark really doesn't know what he's done. All he knows is that he needs to defuse the situation before he gets hurt, without even knowing what he's defusing.

How familiar.

He shifts his weight backwards, lips thinning, fists clenching. And he says: ]

What, are you going to jump me? You're a long way from any Betan embassies. And I've been here a while. I know how to work this system. Want to see how it turns out?

[The shift to threats confirms it in Bel's mind. So what? A couple days in jail versus the satisfaction. Without any warning at all, they lunge into a smart, clean punch towards Mark's still smarting nose.

The armor flickers and vanishes mid punch like a holo being dismissed, replaced by Dendarii greys. Bel didn't want to kill him. Not Miles brother. Not that sad, untrusting wretch Bel decided to help all on their own. Just. A little bit of justice in the crack of knuckles.]

[ Fuck.

In the armor - this is going to hurt. And so Mark puts all of his energy into shielding himself, hiding the parts where a blow would outright kill him. So Bel's punch lands on his face, angled so that it won't destroy his bones and wreck him and kill him -

And it ends up being hardly anything at all. Hah. Is that really it? They're not using the power of the armor - no, it's gone altogether, Mark notes distantly, which is weird. Weird, but not his concern right now. Instead - Instead, he leans into the punch, twists around, grabs the hermaphrodite's wrist, and yanks them forward, forcing them off-balance. A kick to the back of the knee, to send them tumbling to the ground. ]

Edited 2016-10-31 19:02 (UTC)

[They watch the horizon lurch, roll and rise up as Bel's own momentum was used against them. God. They were going to leave it at one. But if Mark wanted to do this? That was FINE.

They turn the hard fall into a soft roll and surge up, elbow leading towards Mark's gut. Bel is good. Trained and oft practiced, their form was tight, economical and levels above your average spacer. It simply wasn't professional killer, either.]

[ Mark doesn't dodge. He lets the hermaphrodite hit him, and just doubles over slightly, winded and in pain, at the blow. But he grins, too, the expression half-mad and very unpleasant. And he grabs onto their arm, fingers digging in hard, leaning in towards Bel, hissing - ]

Come on. You can hit harder, can't you?

[From that angle, Mark has a fantastic view. The moment realization strikes that Bel doesn't have a chance. The concept that they're playing with something much bigger, much meaner than they are, and fear that slithers after it...

And that precipitous battle between that seething fury and tense, canny calculation struggling for a toehold.

They didn't strike, didn't slump, just hissed, sneering.]

If you want that kind of beating, see a goddamn professional.

[ The feelings that well up in Mark are...complicated. There's sick glee at getting the best of them, and them knowing he won; sick self-loathing, to have someone look at him with dread and fear; frustration at the nastiness of their comment; frustration that he feels a rush of flustered nervousness, that the implication is sexual, and coming from a hermaphrodite who isn't a woman but who's something like a woman and he's thought about that but that doesn't matter, he just is embarrassed and embarrassed that he's embarrassed; annoyance that they came up with that snappy a retort that quickly. He shoves at their elbow, pushing them down towards the ground.

The miserable, drawn-out grin becomes a glower in the span of just a few seconds. ]

Tell me who the hell you are.

[ the person in question laughs merrily, but takes the bottle off bel's hands, capping it and tucking it into the crook of an arm for the moment. mahanon tucks a few strands of hair behind a pointed ear, rocking back on his heels as he glances up at the other figure and struggles with the crooked grin still threatening his mouth. ]

Believe it or not, it's not the worst thing I've tasted here. [ and it's not the worst alcohol he's ever had, either, though it's probably pretty close. ] This pumpkin-spice thing seems to be a learned taste, though.

[ a beat, smile and expression softening into his usual easy warmth. ] I'm guessing you're.. new.. ish?

[Bel picks themselves up, posture taunt but no longer that wire crack aggressive. They show bruising of pride more than anything, stepping back out of the shorter man's immediate radius.

They give Mark the most incredulous look. Their tone is sharp, mocking.]

Captain Bel Thorne of the Ariel, Dendarii Free Mercenaries.

You might have heard of us.

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Lies a place that few have seen.

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Bel Thorne | Vorkosigan Saga | OTA!

THE FIRST

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De Chima!

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nonah!!

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