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etcelsior2014-07-25 01:54 pm
maskormods) wrote in etcelsior2014-07-25 01:54 pm
Entry tags:
now don't be rude
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.
fry's dog
Generally speaking, the popular malt shop around town did not have Abigail Hobbs sitting in it. Her build, her hair, nothing extremely remarkable. There were plenty of girls that looked like her, less of them in Minnesota thanks to her father. It wasn't that that had him stopping and staring.
It was the scarf.
A scarf in the summer months in Florida was an odd thing. Fashion wasn't his forte by any stretch of the imagination, but he could not just ignore a scarf in this weather, especially not one on someone who fit the profile.
He didn't move until she turned her head just enough that he knew without a shadow of a doubt who it was, and then he was opening the door, unaware of it until cool air blasted him in the (unshaven) face.
The lure.
An amazing choice for one.
While he had enough wits about him to wait for her to look the opposite way before entering, he hadn't retained enough to remember what he was wearing. The plaid shirt and jeans, not anything too unusual. The name tag clipped to his pocket? Different. The hat on his head with a hook tucked into the bill that declared him the WORLD'S OKAYEST FISHERMAN? Product, one he sold in his shop and just hadn't taken off. Etiquette might dictate he take it off as soon as he walked in, might insist that if he not, he certainly needed to take it off when he sat down.
He didn't.
Couldn't.
It was difficult to do anything other than try for the least strained, pitiful excuse for a smile he could muster as he sat across from her with no warning. Dragged the chair out a few inches, lowered himself into it like it had been waiting for him, not like he ran the risk of falling on his ass if he didn't sit soon.]
Hi.
[Weak, so weak, light beer that was poured in a cup with too much ice while still hot. This Will Graham had no idea about a certain betrayal. He had no idea about a gutting. In fact, he had very few ideas at all.
Go to Minnesota, he said. Sure, Hannibal agreed. Fell asleep in the car, woke up in this superpowered mess of a world. Find himself with Chilton and Gideon, then Freddie, then a young Hannibal, then the older one. The one he knew.
The one he trusted.
He had some scales in place regarding certain people (for good, for bad), but there was nothing stopping him from looking at the real Abigail like he hadn't seen her in a long time and thought he never would again.
Raw. Honest. Blind.
And so conflicted about how to show he'd missed her, like an ugly mutt that felt it got pity pets, that showing up with the cute ones made it look like sadder excuse of a dog. He didn't need a pet. Pinch might do better. Being told staring was rude.
Hearing her voice, no matter what she said, that would be a gift, one he'd never toss back.]
you monster
startled to the point of speechlessness, she unabashedly stares. he looks exactly the same. scruffy beard (does he even know what a razor is?), messy hair that probably needed to be cut under that hat, plaid. he loved plaid, didn't he?
even in florida.
it takes her a while to tell her brain to start working and to smother down the urge to apologize again. first things first. neither of them are covered in blood -- she quickly, reflexively, smooths down her hair over her ear -- so they have the luxury of small talk for once. ]
Hi.
[ it's shaky, nervous, and not what she wants to say at all. but it's all she can manage, tongue darting out to lick her lips. ]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z06LXZQwkrc
Thank some higher power that he wasn't wearing one of his suggestive, extremely tacky fishing hats. (How would Abigail like to look up and see a fish next to SIZE MATTERS or I'D RATHER BE F____ING with a tiny i-s-h that had to be squinted at to make out?) Even if it sat on his head, it was the last thing on his mind. The looks had been worse not too long ago. One might have argued he looked more animal than man, hair almost long enough to pull back. Hannibal arrived, Will cleaned up. Good influence, Hannibal Lecter.
What he didn't know.
He follows the way she toys with her hair, realizes it must be over that ear, and drops his eyes to the next thing—water. Water in a malt shop. Streams, waves, tides, antlers, Abigail in the midst of them, sometimes at his mercy and sometimes smiling, keeping up, letting him teach while providing far more interesting conversation than he'd let anyone in his class ever try for.
Teaching him in return.
It makes that smile less strained, almost genuine. Difficult to smile in the company he's in right now, but that's not her fault. Whoever killed her, that blame rests with them. But that wouldn't have happened if they weren't angling to set him up for whatever sick reasons, and as such:
most of that of awkwardness and trepidation? His bad. He could argue all of it was on him, since he was the adult. He'd rather not argue, but he's not the only one with a final say in whatever happens between them. He's not Dad.]
Water. [The way it comes out, pushed through a throat made of cotton, it might sound like a request. It's not.] Possibly the best choice. Malts here are the opposite of super.
[They are not, however, people.]
Convinced they're imported, too.
[There's no design for "talking to Abigail Hobbs" and the more he struggles to come up with one, the more it becomes apparent he hasn't a damn clue what he's "supposed" to do.
Not exactly a common scenario, is it?]
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she swallows, before her lips lift into the tiniest of smiles. ] You look different. [ she's smiling because different = not dead or dying on the floor next to her. ]
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The next comment is somewhat disorienting—he looks different, and she's smiling. I cut my hair two weeks ago. And shaved. Not what she meant, is it?]
I was. Sick. Last time I saw you. Going on about, talking about what I didn't really know. [His hand had reached out to grab the wrapper of the straw without thought when he opened his mouth, and he looks down after the stop-start semi-explanation to find it ripped into several pieces. Pieces which get flicked back up on the table before he returns his hands to his lap as he clears his throat, leaning back.] Being treated for it here. I look different because I am different. I'm me again.
[If only they could have known each other longer when they were both them, though Abigail's road to recovering herself would have been longer than a few months on steroids and antivirals and pills to prevent seizures. Longer and one he would have done everything he could to help her down, had he been capable of keeping himself righted.]
Sure you don't want a root beer. Fries?
[It's difficult to say he's sorry, not because of pride or the fear he'll turn it into something of a spectacle no matter how strained his voice gets as he scrambles for an offer to get her something, a mad dash for something normal between them. No jacked up sense of no need to apologize, nothing can be done, I'm not at fault, no.
There's just so much to be sorry about, five letters doesn't seem to quite
cut it.
Words have meaning. Agenda. Didn't. They. just.]
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she looks down at her water, the condensation rolling over her fingers. her mind doesn't see water, but blood, and she stares at her hands until she sees water again. her chest hurts a little, anxious, breath speeding up before it slows back to normal again. ]
You did know, though. Your brain was melting, but you were still right.
[ surprise.
she probably died, she's fairly certain she died, and up to the last second, he was trying to save her. she's not going to lie to him anymore. if anyone deserves the truth from her it's will. and it's all she can really give him. ]
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What he doesn't know.]
I only knew what you told me, and then I ran away with it. I didn't give you the chance to explain anything else. I don't know anything you didn't tell me.
[It's all stated like fact, because it is. It is, he doesn't really know anything more than that. Can't. Who can, now that she's dead? And it's is not him trying to pull more information out of her. It doesn't matter right here, right now. This world is new to her; getting it sorted means more than sorting out "minor" details. That can wait.]
How long ago did you get stuck here?
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as opposed to heropa, which has not been long at all. ] I don't know, I don't have a watch. [ therefore little enough time for it to be measured on a watch and not a calendar. not that she has one of those, either. ] It's... disorienting, being able to move around without being watched. No one knows who I am here.
[ which, frankly, is kind of great, but she's too confused to feel that part yet. it's pretty excessive jet lag.]
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It's an urge that has to be quelled, same as reaching out further and touching her hand. She's real. She's talking, he's talking, they're awake, this is real. He doesn't need to go overboard with it.]
Couple people here know who you are. [No one didn't mean she was saying Will was a no one, but he still picked it apart momentarily. No one, huh.] There's a few besides me who are from...where we're from. They'll know you. You'll be the sixth. Probably get asked if you're from Baltimore.
[He was.]
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