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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[ Miles is going to hyperventilate a little bit here, okay. He at least is having a properly Barrayaran reaction to all of this. ]

Don't underestimate Gregor. I assure you that that is a mistake.

[ He says, having underestimated his boyfriend quite thoroughly just now. God, Gregor. Kitty is enough. For all Miles had talked about a dalliance with Spock... he's a little too monogamous to really be comfortable himself. ]

[They look widely from Gregor to Miles and just. Cracks. Up.]

Admiral Naismith, were you just out-Betan'ed by the Emperor of Barrayar?

I shouldn't... [Hang on, they can get it toge- nope. This is fucking hilarious.] underestimate him at all.

[ Gregor looks at Miles with intense exasperation, although it's laced with fondness. With the benefit of the link, he knows what Miles is really thinking, and misinterpreting. ]

Out-bluffed by the Emperor of Barrayar, perhaps. [ More gently, directly at Miles, ] Please, you can't think I'm about to hop into bed with someone I just met. We're needling each other.

[ He still huffs one more time before settling into something like calm. ]

Shut up. You're both terrible.

[ He attempts to smooth himself into something approaching dignified. ]

Anyway. There are some things I ought to straighten out. I'll buy you coffee, Captain.

I wouldn't turn that down for the world. [Bel watches both of them intently, eyes bright.]

Will you join us? [this, to Gregor.] I would absolutely love to hear about your governess.

[ He'd rather have ruffled-cat, sulky Miles than him flustered and nervous about his love life any day. Gregor sends him a reassuring brush of affection over the link and turns to get them all coffee, smoothly stepping behind the counter without a hint of self-consciousness. He tries to convey a wordless sense of it's fine, I've got this, I do this all the time to help him settle. ]

Of course. It's a funny story, actually. [ To Miles: And it will be a neat segue into your 'straightening out'. ] My lord regent, Aral Vorkosigan, married a Betan. Reportedly, no one thought her taking over my education could possibly have some sort of lasting subversive effect on me.

[ Gregor reports this with all the light airiness of someone who's had more than enough practice at purposeful socializing, intentionally redirecting the conversation and smoothing things over, inviting Bel into the joke at Barrayar's expense. It's a calculated joke even so, a part of Barrayar he's willing to concede and cast negatively. He's careful because he doesn't want to come off as some sort of paradoxical anti-patriotic Emperor, but this extent should be fine.

Betans seem to take ridicule of one's own government as a civic duty. Possibly they won't even realize how scandalous this sort of talk is in truth. ]

[ It is soothing, even if ruffled cat Miles doesn't want to admit it. Slowly but surely, the mental hackles go down. And physically Miles relaxes at his seat. As always, Gregor is masterful at directing Miles where he ought to go.

Even so ... it's a bit nervewracking finally coming out with this. (But what's the point of hiding? Both identities are completely out in the open now. And Miles has resolved to give up being Naismith... That leaves only Lord Vorkosigan. ]

That Betan is my mother, by the way. Cordelia Naismith.

[ He watches Bel's reactions with no small amount of curiosity. ]

[There's the slightest of flickers of Bel's eyes back to Miles when Gregor mentions Vorkosigan. There is, though, clearly to both of them, the utter lack of reaction to the telling. Beyond that, even a little mild confusion at the staging of this piece of information. What they latched onto as worthier of comment is just as telling as Bel's lack of reaction to the reveal of Gregor as the Emperor.]

Her? As your governess? [Bel's delight was palatable.] Do you know, I was still on Beta when she made her dramatic return? And exit.

The scandal ate the press for a whopping week. They must not have watched a damn reel if they thought SHE wasn't going to be a hellraiser in proxy.

They also knew she was responsible for beheading the man that hurt her son, [ Gregor adds. ] But to Barrayarans that's just good motherhood.

[ He shrugs sanguinely and returns to preparing the coffee, but he definitely hasn't missed Bel's non-reaction, or rather, reaction to the wrong things. It's just not the right moment for that yet. ]

[ Neither has Miles. He glances between the two of them - opens his mouth to say something about it - and hesitates, sensing Gregor's own reaction over the link. Not yet? Well all right then, but he's getting antsy not blurting things out right away. ]

Barrayar makes a habit of underestimating certain segments of its population. Women especially. Good for us, in this case.

[They snort at that.] That's the only case. Even so, her position certainly wasn't anything they bothered to leave on off-world databases.

Though frankly, I didn't even make the connection with the Survey commander that made the President sing soprano and his mother until months after I started research. She's almost invisible.

[ Oh, well, there we go then.

Gregor distributes coffee mugs. ] She does not, in fact, enjoy generating news, [ he says agreeably. ] Are you from further in the future than Miles, or do you have some compelling reason for learning the truth and keeping it to yourself? [ Since Miles obviously thought they weren't aware of it. ]

[ Miles definitely thought they weren't aware of it. Well - since it's out already, he's going to blurt: ]

And how long have you known?

[Their confusion is absolutely genuine. They hesitate while lifting the coffee.]

I .. well I didn't tell you directly, but I thought it was clear enough. Five years ago? That first run to Jackson's Whole.

Though I'm hardly Inner Circle, officially. Still left out of the good stuff. Tung and I worked it out almost immediately.

[ Miles opens his mouth to protest that - and stops. ]

Five years ago? You mean Taura's rescue?

[ Truly, having spent over two years away in his own pursuits, regardless of what investigation he'd done for the sake of figuring out how to handle the anchor, meant there was enough he didn't know. That it would always be a matter of time he doesn't doubt. It wasn't a mark anyone was meant to endure.

Arrogance, he supposes, but that had been part and parcel of his mistake with Corypheus in the first place. Back in a time before he'd allowed himself to envision any of the people around him as being truly real. ]

There may be consistencies... some form of consensus or another, but you have the right of it. If nothing else, we've seen how mutable the future is, to one from a different past.

[ Hadn't that also been the trouble? In being told of the Inquisitor and Dorian's time in a world that had fallen to Corypheus, and what that cost had entailed. Time was a construct; potential was something to capitalize on or seize, but nothing guaranteed. He leans back, a subtle shift as he breathes out through his nose. He does and doesn't know this man, but he has that sense of friendship almost being there; strong enough that the offer, come to dinner, strikes a painful chord in what's left of his unmasked heart. He's shaking his head with a small, small smile. Difficult to say what his position is in this place, other than that of researcher and student by necessity. He highly doubts he can be anything of a friend.

No one deserves that weight, and he doesn't deserve that liberation. Not with the decisions he's been acting on. ]

I haven't had the pleasure of sorting through whichever appliance challenges still await. I've only come through to this place in the last handful of hours.

[ Time marked by the sun's movement, nothing else. The boisterous activity all around has barely slowed. His eyes take in the ebb and flow of people, listening to Mahanon while sorting through so many of the little details he's been given so far. Not enough. He'll have to see to rectifying that lack. ]

The dividing factors here seem to fall along country lines, with those of us from elsewhere being something of an uneasy acceptance. Not so terribly unfamiliar. Not even in how unique understandings or abilities are held in creative contempt and fear until their use has been proven to the powers that be.

[ Politics don't change, no matter the world. Only here, the "gifted" aren't simply those in tune to the ebb and flow of mana. They're artificially generated, or altered, and that is both fascinating and unnerving in uneven measures. Sidestepping most of what's been said in favour of looking at the lens of the world? Intentional, yes, but not ill intentioned. ]

[ He was glad in the end that the Iron Bull he knew had been able to keep both his Chargers and his individuality in spite of the tests of differing faith placed upon his shoulders. There's a respect for his intelligence, and the memories of their exchanges, that lingers even now.

Enough so that he doesn't choose to say anything offhand, for all the question asked has a very obvious answer. More so than the literal one of what he was doing here: chosen by chance as a location, taking stock as a necessity. Integrating into a culture and lifestyle he no longer understood is a recent enough accomplishment. Repeating the process here was not anything he looked forward to embracing.

Though he does lift his cup off the surface of the table, wondering if he'd get to endure any more of its contents. He almost likes the coffee. (Bull's pants, on the other hand, are a riot of colour and motion both entirely suitable and strange in their decorations.) ]

Here in this particular establishment, or this particular world? I can assure you neither were deliberate nor intentional provocations on my behalf.

[ Not that it matters either way in the end. (Also no claims on what the Porter's decision making process may or may not be based on.) ]

[Somehow, facing his anger allows her to calm down properly. Casual is fine, but she doesn't know what to do with an indifferent Axel, that side of him too close to the schemer back on Castle Oblivion. Too close to the man who was willing to cut her down. This side of him, though-- that's closer to his real self, she thinks. Closer to the person she eventually makes friends with. She can handle the anger.]

I know.

[He probably didn't have anyone to talk to, at this point in time. No one to confide to, with Xion gone. She's a poor substitute right now, but she wants to offer that to him regardless.]

You...won't have to make a choice just yet. But what will you do, when you have to?

Not so fortunate, I'm afraid.

[Riku can see it. He can see how Axel's smile doesn't falter, and Riku knows that if it were he who was the new arrival, he'd fall quiet at that. Perhaps that's just him. But he nods, sobering even if Axel doesn't, and holds one hand up, fingers loosely curled.]

There's -- Namine, Sora and I, Xion, and my Replica. [He doesn't bother saying "Kagami" -- he knows Axel will question it, and it's just easier to get to that later. Riku recites the names, extending his fingers as if counting as he does so.] So -- a handful of us. There were some people who were here who were here for -- mustn't have even been a month before they disappeared again. But I don't know if you'd have known them either way. Anyway -- a handful. Roxas was here, a long time ago.

[ Dorian, some people are far more prone to making really bad decisions when they've lived for long enough than others. Solas is aware of it to some extent; and he regrets, yes, most especially how he's hurt the one friend he held dearest to himself in a nightmarish world, and yet...

... And yet he continues on his course, because he has far too much invested in a past that isn't here than finding a means to a worthwhile future in a world of people he only just started learning how to see. (Dorian may have the right of it. Save everyone from his miserable decision making processes, including himself.)

They are, fortunately or otherwise, relatively civil beings, which is why beyond the hardening of his eyes, Solas does little more than lift his cup and tip it, just irritatingly so, in Dorian's direction. The unfamiliar dog goes noted as well. He has no particular wish to engage in violence at the moment, let alone in these surroundings, but he's as prepared as he can be with the difference in how his magic responds in this place so far from the Fade. ]

Spoken with a most impressive hiss.

[ Equally calm, he sets the cup back down, untouched. If anything about this world were voluntary, Solas doubts either one of them would truly be there. Dorian has a right to his anger, of that Solas knows, but at the same time he doesn't have to particularly care. ]

I believe congratulations were in order? Magister Pavus.

[ ... Hello, Dorian, how are you doing on this nondescript day? ]

[Naminé can't deny that she's trembling. Her knees feel weak, and with each step back she's afraid she might stumble. But one of the many things she's learned from Sora and the others is that you can still be brave, even if you're scared. She keeps moving back towards the closest building wall, giving the natives the chance to move away from the fight (more likely beat down) that's about to happen.

And then she's caught, squirming, in Larxene's grip, jerked forward with a gasp. The roar of panic in her ears and the instinct to portal away is hard to ignore, but she forces herself to look the other woman in the eyes, to try and lend strength to the words.]

I don't draw anymore, not like that. Not for you, or Marluxia, or anyone else from the Organization. L-Let me go, Larxene.

[ Truly, he was more comfortable in his simplified clothing, but well, when one is running a rebellion and capitalising on the mythos built up around a godhood one never had and that one openly decried, looking strange (or impressive) enough to fit the part was a matter of cultivating expectation.

Here, he was liable to be labeled a medieval fantasy fanatic. So it goes.

He recognises Hawke not for what she's wearing, nor for her vast accompaniment of dogs (though it does pique his interest why any one person was walking around with such an entourage). It's when she speaks and he shifts his attention to a casual inspection of her features that it truly clicks: the Champion of Kirkwall. Last he knew, she was assisting Varric with his responsibilities in Kirkwall, for a certain definition of assistance. ~~Is it worse that Solas has "Hawke doesn't die" or not, truly we don't know.~~

He has not, however, seen any one Ferelden manage to reach quite this level of canine saturation. In his quiet observation of a woman who doesn't seem to notice, care, or recognise him, it's almost pleasant. He can sip at his coffee, listen with half an ear, and continue to prod at his "communicator" with no intention to engage. It's almost pleasant, or as close to pleasant as his irritation and frustration will allow him to be under the present circumstances, simply because it's not demanding.

Plus he actually knows who she is, and that's more than he can say for the majority situation around here. ImPorts, native peoples who've been recently inflicted with "powers," an ongoing war, the inequities on all sides... all more delays, if these were what would stop him from getting back and finding whatever resolution will become inevitable. (Be that he succeeds, or that he does not; the future changes with each moment lived in the present.)

... Ultimately the only reason he ends up talking to Hawke is incidental to the sprawling dogs between their two tables. Holding his cup in one hand, he glances over Hawke's companions, then to the woman herself. ]

Would you mind asking your friends to clear a way?

[ Who knows how well they do or don't listen, but he's taking an educated guess. Meanwhile he holds up his cup to indicate his intention, communicator turned down over the top of his nondescript file on the tabletop, partly under his plate of crumbs.

He'd like a refill on the coffee. He needs more caffeine to deal with sorting and processing all the information he's brushing up against. ]

Maybe to take the picture.

[He's sure you'd come up with some kind of processing fee to send it along + extra for a hard copy + bonus extra depending on the lighting + double bonus extra to take it where there's something better than this dumpster in the background.]

Yeah, it's right over--[uhhh]

...

[Peers head around the alley. ... Takes a few steps around the street outside the alley...]

...That way, I think.

[Zoro that's uh. a) not the way you came b.) literally you're in the wrong state.]

Yes. [They slide a look back to Gregor and what had been a choice between a temporal shift and mutiny.]

I had said that I wouldn't give you away.

The last dragon..

[It's murmured, though their expression remains thoughtful as they turn back to talk about Bel's new abilities.]

Three... they all sound like something out of a- form of entertainment we have. [Though they give Mahanon a ironic smile.] They're mostly offensive, as well.

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Lies a place that few have seen.

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never apologise for bull, he's beautiful

groans I am so sorry for being late, the end of October kicked my butt

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