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worldofmemeness2016-09-30 05:31 pm
modmachine) wrote in worldofmemeness2016-09-30 05:31 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE 01
Don't feel limited to the scenarios presented - make up your own prompts as much as you want! Reserves will open on the 7th and Applications on the 15th. In a grassy square in the Central District, wedged in between dorm halls, there is a tree. Far wider than it is tall, its leaves are just beginning to turn from yellow to orange, with a few green stragglers near the top and a growing carpet on the grass beneath it. At one end of the tree's reach, there is a picnic table, the sort with benches built in to either side. Anywhere under the boughs, a distinct ticking, like the sound of a clock, can be heard. Moving about makes it clear that the sound is loudest nearest the trunk. Numerous small gears stick out of twists between branches, though they do not appear to move to the naked eye. Someone has hung a string of orange lights in the branches for Halloween, along with some cotton spiderweb. No matter how closely you look, there doesn't seem to be an end where the lights plug in to anything. Otherwise, there is nothing unusual about the decorations. In the center of the table, half-covered by leaves, there is an iron plaque that has not been particularly well-treated for rust. Some of the writing on it is almost legible. It is chill to the touch. Someone's carved their initials and a date into the end of one bench - Abandoned vehicles are by no means an unusual sight in the Sixth District. Abandoned buses are slightly more unusual. This particular bus has boarded up windows, a black light string hanging over the windshield, and the words HAUNTED HOUSE written along the side, where the old inoffensive public-transit advertisements have been painted over. The front door serves as the entrance; the back leads into the wrecking yard and the haunted "house" proper. A girl in her late teens in slightly unsettling gothic lolita sits in a cheap folding chair around the front of the bus. She doesn't charge admission, though there is a candy bowl labeled for Donations on the card table next to her with a few bills and some change in it, in the center of a group of candles that burn in skull holders. She reminds everyone who passes her to please not touch the actors or props inside. Occasionally, mist from a smoke machine on the other side of the wooden fence billows around her ankles, almost seeming to form caressing fingers running down her legs. Across the street from her, two men sit in a beaten up old pickup truck, the much taller man smoking cigarettes with the windows open. The shorter man fidgets almost uncontrollably, constantly glancing in the direction of the girl and her bus. Their voices aren't loud enough to hear distinctly from the haunted house side of the street, but the woman at the bus entrance shoots them occasional looks none-the-less, alternating between pleased smiles and blank stares. Painted along the sides of the truckbed, in much dirtier letters than those of the haunted house, is the phrase NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH. In a bar downtown, it's not much different from any other night of clubbing, except that everyone is wearing masks. Ranging from the elegant custom work of a nearby boutique (conveniently open even after sundown tonight, if you need to pick one up) to cheap colored paper held on with elastic handed out at the door of the bar, masks are the must-have accessory tonight. Indeed, many of the parties won't let you in if you don't have one. Those paying careful attention might notice little dots of red on the necks of some of the partiers, especially those who seem a bit pale and have called off drinking for the night. Aside from that, though, it doesn't seem like anyone's really getting hurt; it's just a fun time for everyone. Except for the poor guy who made the mistake of wearing an owl mask and yellow contacts, anyway. Just within hearing range of the beating bass of the clubs, a young woman in a red jacket holds a mask in her hands, turning it over and sometimes holding it to her face to look at in a window reflection. The long face of it calls to mind some kind of black dog, perhaps a Doberman or German Shepherd. She isn't dressed at all for an evening at the clubs, and has a canvas bag slung over her shoulder with the shape of heavy books straining the fabric at the bottom. Not everyone seems to be getting into the spirit. A playground near the center of the city has precious few decorations - save for a spiderweb on one of the swingsets that seems to be natural, not man-made. A pumpkin or two have been left near the edges, but they're all smashed, the orange guts running along in a streak that seems to blend into a thin line surrounding the entire perimeter. The see-saw looks like the board's been freshly painted, but otherwise all of the equipment looks almost lonely and old. The rust on the metal stains everything an orange-red, and the slide in particular seems the worst hit. Still, everything is at least standing, and those who attempt to play on it will find it sturdy and warm in the cool night. ... Except for the merry go round. That one seems to be bent, as if someone very heavy sat on the edge. It still turns, but it wobbles dramatically, with horrible squeaking noises. Still, it's usable, for anyone who would like to play. | |
Makoto Fukami | Kamen Rider Ghost
Makoto wanders, having found himself in this strange city. This is not where he belongs - and it's not the Ganma world, either. It's like the human world, but it can't be. There's just the one, right? He can't make a gate to get out of here... but he has no idea how to handle this. He's on his own again... and while he's glad Kanon isn't in danger, he has to move. He has to get back. The others need his help.
He sits down at a park bench, There's a... strange ticking, and he looks up, curious as to where it's coming from, before he spots the gears in the trees. ... Well. It's not like he can't climb things. He reaches out to grab the trunk of the tree and climb up.
2
The wrecking yard is familiar, a touchstone, something that looks like something from home. But the 'haunted house' is strange. It's not really haunted... right? No. It can't be. He approaches it anyway, looking curiously at the girl as he approaches. "What is this?" An innocent question, right?
1
A man stands in a short distance, grinning over at him. At his feet sit two dogs: One that looks like someone crossed a wolf with a corgi, while the other is a German Shepherd. Two leaves are tucked into the man's belt, though not attached to the dogs' collars. Late night dog walks are a necessity when you don't have a house. Which he never cared for. Something that you can take care of with only one set of not very interested hands is much nicer. ...Not that that is anywhere close to the only reason why he walks his dogs at this time of the day, but it is a good reason when chatting with other dog walkers and runners.
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He wasn't going to touch them... just get a better look. He doesn't have Machine Hoodie and Houdini here to help him hover up to them, after all.
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"Yeah. They move sometimes and don't seem to stop for unfortunate hands."
Nor can they be smashed. He tried, and it's how he found that they can smash about everything.
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"Why are they there?" It seems an... odd thing to have in a tree. Normally he'd suspect Ganma influence, but that's not really an issue in the human world anymore.
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"They are all over, too."
Thorvald doesn't know what is going on, but he's been around a bit and casually looked at things. A few years ago he would have cared a lot more and tried to find the fastest way back, but now he just idly wonders what is going on.
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He climbs down, hopping onto the ground easily. If he's not going to find out anything by climbing up there... no point in continuing.
"Are you from around here?"
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He stays where he is as the other man jumps to the ground, and the dogs at his side stay down as well - the corgi-like one without even batting a leash, while the shepherd needs a quiet word to stay down, spoken too quietly to carry through the night air over to Fukami.
"And yet I will be able to tell you more than most here, little as it is. The vast majority of the residents cannot even see the gears."
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He's not transformed into Specter, either, which is the only other way he should be able to see hidden things. Though if it's not Ganma influence... maybe there's something about it that makes him capable of seeing it.
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Now that's a word that he has never heard before. There are a lot of words in the world that he has never heard before, but the way the other man says it it sounds like everyone should know about it. And he has no reputation to protect here, or even a reputation that people would think about when interacting with him. He can just ask like he has no clue.
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Sort of. It's more complicated than that, but that's the basic explanation. It's not as if he wants to explain the entirety of the Ganma world to this person he doesn't even know.
... And who Takeru would have already tried to ask ten different personal questions of, probably.
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Because this guy looks pretty human. With how the wind blows, he can't even try to tell if he smells human, too, but that is what you have dogs for, right? A minor, hidden gesture, and the corgi-like dog runs off to circle Makoto and figure that one out.
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He eyes the dog running up to him, looking at it a bit warily. He does smell human, though. A little nervous about the dog, but that's mostly because he doesn't have all that much experience with them.
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"Good sign, if not entirely conclusive. So do dogs.
...If you're hungry, there is a Chinese Restaurant down the street that does take-away until two in the morning."
He isn't hungry himself right now and this guy is weird, so he'll tag along for a bit and try to learn more. It's not like he has anything better to do, here.
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"... I could go for some food, but I don't have much cash on me." And from what he's seen, this place doesn't accept yen.
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People get suspicious if a stranger offers to buy them food, but implying that he won't spend additional money for them typically helps. And food tends to be an excellent inroad into gaining peoples' trust.
"...So what exactly are those Eyecons?"
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"It's a round object, a little bigger than... maybe a golf ball. Smaller than a baseball. It looks like plastic, but it's not. It can hold a soul or a spirit and let them project a solid body."
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His question is aimless, in a way. He doesn't see how it could benefit him, or endanger him. But then it is not. It only took life and Leif forever to instill in him the potential worth of any kind of information, but the message did sink in, eventually.
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1!
Maybe it's just sheer dumb luck.
But he's found Makoto, entirely unexpectedly; his idle wanderings around this weird as hell city had apparently paid off, and he rushes over to the tree's base, his friend high in the tree by now.
"Makoto-niichan!"
Still rolling with OU in this thread just for general voicetest purposes.
"What is it, Takeru?" He sounds slightly annoyed. Look, he was just investigating and it's not like he has Houdini anymore, so what's he supposed to do?
Yeeee
The brusque reply is what snaps Takeru out of the minor shock and switches him to relieved, if not slightly miffed. "I'm just glad to see you," he replies warmly nonetheless. "I thought I was alone here, I haven't seen Onari or Akari either."
He sounds like he's going to say more, but he's laid a hand on the tree and gotten surprised when he feels the tick reverberate, so he's thoroughly distracted by studying the tree.
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"Should we try shooting them?"
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"Ah- maybe try jamming something in-between... them... first?" What is them? He steps away from the trunk and springs for the nearest low branch to clamber onto. His jacket does nothing to help whatsoever, getting caught in something as he straddles the branch. He lifts his arm to free his jacket, and spots the issue - two large gears have pinched his sleeve. "Oh."
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Maybe it would be better if it didn't.