TEST DRIVE 01

[modmachine]

Test Drive meme Welcome to the first Test Drive for Hex! Unlike most test drives, the scenarios included here also feature things that you can investigate with mod interaction. If at any point in your test thread, your character(s) want to investigate something further, please put a "HEY MODS" in your subject line to make it easy to find. 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. scenario one - the tree 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 - scenario two - the wrecking yard 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. scenario three - the party downtown 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. scenario four - the playground 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.

MADE BY TESSISAMESS

Comments

Kitty | Shadowrun

[runs]

1

A black kitten is lying on the table in the afternoon sun, basking lazily in the warmth. Unlike someone specifically checks with magical means, the only unusual thing that one might notice about her is that she seems to be quite a large breed of house cat.

Instead of watching the surroundings, as if she's spotted a squirrel up there. If anyone approaches, she will however turn around and watch them instead. But for the moment, she won't get up. This place is no more or less unsettling than any other place in the city in her eyes, and she is comfortable and will only leave it if she perceives an actual threat from someone coming up to her.


4



This playground looks intriguing. She's of course seen ones before, but only in trideos and one time on a run that led them into a zaibatsu residental district. She's never played on one, they just aren't a thing around her home and derelict as this one looks...

She'd like to know what being on a swing actually feels like. The children in the trideos always look like they're having fun while adults seem to get sad when sitting on them, so who knows.

Without even a thought about safety concerns she skips over to the swings and tugs at one to make sure that it won't fall before sitting down on it and starting to experiment with the movements for it.

What did they do in the trideos? Legs up... and down?


bonus



A girl is walking around Hex, sticking to downtown and the sixth district, and looking very disoriented and distressed. She stops every once in a while as if expecting to see something around, just that she seems to come up empty every time that she does so, and moves on, rubbing her eyes every so often as if she hopes that that will somehow fix it.

At times, she will also stop to watch people, standing almost perfectly still as her dark eyes follow a stranger go about their business. Still searching. Perhaps that stranger is you?

4

[modmachine]

Kitty will see something odd - there's something misty-purple hanging around behind a tree near the swingset. It's not doing anything, just hanging there and being generally gaseous... but it does, somehow, seem to have trained its attention on her.

bonus!

[closetometal]

It's the fact that she looks so young and so lost that gets him. Nick has been holed up in his office in the Sixth for hours now, scribbling notes in his files and it's just luck that he chose to take a walk as she passes by. At first, he wondered if it was any of his business, but she just looked so distressed and watched him so intently he couldn't help himself.

"Hey, you okay, kid?"

stella gibson | the fall

[ex_assertiveness90]

Stella Gibson had never felt particularly threatened, working in Belfast. Certainly, the threat of violence from various armed paramilitary groups was a realistic one, though she'd been initially doubtful about needing to be issued a firearm, but despite that and a few run-ins with people more than a little hostile toward the police, she'd never felt unsafe, at least not any more than she did at home in London.

This place, on the other hand, is another story. She can't quite put her finger on it, but there's a crawling sense of unease in her gut that makes her feel on edge, and for a woman who works in law enforcement, who sees human depravity on a daily basis and is so used to not being afraid of very much at all... to say she doesn't like it would be an understatement. Yet — here she is, walking by herself at night, despite her own awareness of the statistics that say that's a terrible idea. If asked, she'd say she's just trying to get her bearings in a strange place. The gun in the shoulder holster neatly concealed under her long dark coat at least provides some small sense of security.

Stella stops, for a moment, underneath the tree branches, fallen leaves crunching under the soles of her high heeled shoes. The festive lights cast a dim glow on her hair and face and the nearby picnic table, though after a few minutes of listening she gives up on trying to find the source of that relentless ticking noise. She decides, eventually, to sit down at the table for a moment to catch her breath — or at least that's what she intends, except that she puts her hand down on the wood surface and her fingers touch something wet.

Startled, she pulls her hand back, turns it into the light to inspect her fingers, and sees the by now very familiar deep red stain of fresh human blood. Her eyes fall on the corner of the table, where there's a small, bloody puddle — and more, where it's trickled off the edge of the table and down onto the bench seat, and from there into the grass. Someone bled here recently, and now Stella would really like to find out who — and why.


[ Info for those who aren't familiar with her or her canon. This is a bit of a riff on scenario 1, I suppose. It's up to you where the blood actually leads if you want to have your character help investigate — a dead body? An injured person? A vampire? Is your character bleeding? Who knows. ]

[runs]

If she walks around more, she will find that there is more blood on the ground a little distance away, and then again a few steps further away from it.

A trail.

That leads to a severed hand with a part of an forearm still attached to it. The blood trail stops after that, but if she continues into the same direction still, there will be what looks like a heap of dark grey fabric on the ground.

Marja Virtanen | oWoD

[onecatmore]

1

...Those lights are strange, and while the reasonable option would be to just let them be, Marja throws a quick glance around and when she can't spot anything starts climbing on the table, a fallen twig in hand.

She should be able to reach the lights from here... no. Perhaps if she stretches... no, again.

Only when she gives up and turns around, she notices that there is someone standing behind her. Oops.

"It's a safety hazard and should be taken down. If lightning strikes, it will make this tree exponentially more dangerous."

Yes, that works as an explanation why a grown ass woman is standing on a picnic table. Hopefully.


3

The downside to not being a party person but to also being bored and not knowing what to do with yourself is that you end up with a drink in a corner, watching the proceedings, instead of actually getting involved.

The upside to it is that there is no peer pressure to drink. She's been holding on to the same one for a good long while now to not be empty-handed and at the same time make sure that she has all her wits about her to dodge unwanted attention.

Not that all attention is unwanted, after all that would be boring, but... maybe she's just too old for this. She tugs a bit at the mask and sighs. Perhaps calling it a night and finding something else to do tomorrow will be better.

1

[hedophelianist]

O's eyes twinkle with amusement at the defensive tone and she shrugs, "I kinda think they're pretty, but you do you, lady."

With that, the young woman steps up and plops right down on the table top, dropping her purse next to her and starting to dig around in it. It takes her a second, but she pulls out a container, lighter, and a glass pipe and instantly starts to fill the bowl of it. From the smell, its obviously not tobacco, but she seems to have no qualms about what she's doing at all.

Without looking up, she continues on to say, "What were you looking for up there anyway?"

Nick Valentine // Fallout 4

[closetometal]

Three;
The torn and patched trench coat draped over Nick Valentine's shoulders was a familiar weight as he stood at the edge of the crowd outside, shifting his weight back and forth. Though the festive mood of the season might lead someone to presume him in costume, he really was the PI that his trench claimed. He even had the whole ensemble, a matching beaten fedora, faded black tie, dirty button down shirt, and dusty slacks. Damned if he wasn't surprised by the party though. Nick had come for a drink--well, more of an excuse to people watch really--but now he wasn't so sure. Big get togethers were never his thing. Too many people in one room, too many people looking for an easy target. It made him uncomfortable. So there he hesitated, eyes wide and mouth in a firm line, his gaze flickering over all the masked people spilling out onto the street.


Alternate;
It had been another long day spent searching for his landlady's daughter and Nick Valentine was wiped out as he walked home. Physically, he was fine--he's lucky his synthetic body doesn't need the rest or food that most other beings need--but the deeper into the case he got, the weirder it was. His last witness told him that he was looking into a ghoul, whatever that was here. Somehow, he didn't think they meant the radiation damaged people he was familiar with. Which meant more research on his part.

With a deep sigh, the synth detective picked his way across the streets at dusk to the nearest convenience store. He had run out of cigarettes hours ago and it was time he bought a new pack. It took him only a minute to have his drug of choice back in hand and as soon as he was outside, Nick pulled one out of the pack, his flip lighter already in hand to light it.

Except when he flicked it open, the damn lighter didn't hold a flame.

"Guess it's time I refilled it," he muttered to himself, moving to put away the cigarette until he spotted someone. He approached them and asked, "Sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to have a light, would ya?"

alternate;

[holyorder]

"I'm sorry," Ky responded automatically, shaking his head, "I'm afraid I—"

And then his voice cut out. His eyes went a little wide, unable to hide his surprise, at the sight of the 'man' before him. This one looked different, and while Ky understood by now that this land was no home he knew, he still couldn't hold back his reaction to something so unfamiliar. The unusual sights and citizens, the strangeness of everything, the technology that should not exist — there was so much about this place that threw him off balance. He couldn't help himself, most of the time.

But that didn't necessarily excuse staring. Snapping himself roughly out of his stunned state, he finished his response.

"I... apologize. I don't carry a light with me, sir."

Dr. Declan E. Blake, OD | Mage: The Awakening

[awakenedwithacrash]

[This wasn't the first time Declan had woken up somewhere other than where he closed his eyes, but at least he could say that this time was a bit less volatile than the last. Was this some kind of paradox effect? His last memory was of casting Knit on Holiday after he'd gone and run his mouth again...and then this. Magic was apt to do as it would, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of deeper awakening than his last had been.

He felt that same sense of disassociation as he stood in a grass covered patch of land in the Central District, his eyes locked on the tree in front of him. Everything was so utterly different and alien to him, even this tree made mechanical sounds as if it were wound like a clock...and yet, it was all incredibly familiar; the sights, sounds, and bustle of a city, just like New York, albeit on a smaller scale. It was like someone had put a living mask over a corpse and set it up at the family dinner.

A chill wind swept across the square, prompting Declan to pull his coat a little closer to his body as he excavated a pack of cigarettes from a pocket along with his lighter and lit it with a quick flick of his hand; an expert maneuver he'd fine tuned over his years smoking, and moved closer to the tree as he took a calming drag.

Upon closer inspection, he could even make out tiny gears on the tree amid the child-like decorations and above all, the plaque caught his attention most vividly, prompting him to squat down to take a better look. While mostly illegible, he could make out one phrase between the rust and disrepair...

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”]

"Poe, eh? Seems fittin' e'nuff. Guess'ts really dat time'a t'year, innit?"

[He murmured around his nicotine stick before rising to his feet once again and casting an idle gaze around. Hopefully someone was nearby that he could get some information from...namely, where in the name of Mary, mother of the saint he was.]

[readitinabook]

That same chill breeze bluster past Declan, prompting the young woman walking nearby to pull her coat tighter around herself. Vivian has seen colder autumns, half-remembered years of her youth spent around a hot stove, but this one promises a biting winter. It's different, here. Different from the home she once knew. Seems that steam engines have gone out of vogue, to say the least; electricity is thrice as prevalent as it was back home. But that's not the most disturbing part. Far more troubling are the things no one else seems to see. The half-imagined things that move in the corners of her eyes, and the odd sense, almost like being watched, about this place.

She knows, on an instinctive level, that this all has to do with that strange vision she had before waking in the city. The watchtower - somehow, she knows that's what it was - that seemed to ask her to leave her mark. She'd left a little nonsense story, the kind she'd use to put her charges to sleep back home, and woke up here, cold and alone and garbed in trousers of all things. It makes no sense.

Nor does a tree with cogs. She stops, staring, brow furrowing. Is this another thing no one else will seem to notice? Or is this a trick, a decoration to go with the hanging webs and electric lights that fill the tree? Either way, she takes a cautious step closer, barely noticing the man nearby until she nearly bumps into him, the ends of her long scarf knocking against his ankles. "Are you seeing this as well?" She skips any and all greeting, her words quiet, but firm.

Ryoji Mochizuki - Persona 3 (Native'd)

[dangerouslyinlove]

I

The tree has always been a curious thing to Ryoji, even though he can't totally place why. Maybe because gears and trees are really not things that normally go together, but who knows. Maybe it's the other trees that are weird. (He kind of doubts it, though.)

It's not the tree that truly captures his interest today, however- today he's crouched by the bench, looking over the initials and the date and examining them carefully. It just seems like the kind of thing that could serve as an anchor, and he hasn't heard anything about ghosts hanging around here, but...

III

Ryoji's mask is pretty cheap (he's a university student, what do you want from him?) but effective. Ish. It gets him in and actually does cover a decent part of his face. Mostly the dot under his eye.

Though he's old enough to get into this parties now, he's not old enough to drink, which... he's actually kind of ok with once he spots the red dots some people are sporting on their neck. Nooo thank you, he's sure that would be a terrible idea, and in the back of his mind Thanatos and his many distorted voices agrees. Those voices are also telling him to keep an eye out, since some people think Halloween is a great time to try and screw with the dead, and Ryoji will. But he's alive, so he's going to enjoy it before his time comes once again.

It might be a bit of both that inspires him to swing over to your character with a bright smile. "Hi! Want to dance?"

III

[chalicejoker]

Hajime's own mask may just be evidence the demon is dabbling in that whole "sense of humor" thing he's heard about...or he's just trying to hide in plain sight as he indulges his curiosity about this very human party.

Not that he'd been expecting to be asked to dance as he investigated. "...I'd rather not."

Hajime Aikawa | Kamen Rider Blade | Native AU

[chalicejoker]

[Scenario 1]
Hajime knows he shouldn't linger for too long in the area with the ticking. He's guessing he's got a pretty good idea as to what that means, that the God Machine's influence is strong here. But that means that the area will be rich in Aether, which makes the risk more worth his while.

He's constantly looking over his shoulder as he examines the area, tense and ready to fight at a moment's notice. He's got a partial deck of cards in his hands, and he's absently shuffling these as he investigates. Surprising him means you're likely to get a card thrown in your face.

[Scenario 4]
It's late. Hajime should really be getting home to the humans his Cover is renting a room from. They've grown fond of him, and he's done likewise despite himself. Staying out this late is bound to make them worry.

But the playground he's stumbled upon makes him pause. He's got an idea of what this equipment is for, and he knows it shouldn't be taking damage like that merry-go-round bears. He'll go start trying to turn it, making a little more noise than he anticipated. It might draw attention, and he doesn't really want that.

4

[modmachine]

The merry go round turns spinning in its wobbly motion, but otherwise... seems to be just a merry go round. It's squeaking pretty badly... something might have been messed up in the central pole.

Commander Shepard | Mass Effect | Scenario 3

[sheshotfirst]

For her mask for the evening, Shepard hadn't reached too far. She didn't have Kasumi and her skill for infiltration or Tali and her love of dramatics to help her. It was just a solo op, run by a soldier. So she'd gone for a custom piece resembling her N7 helmet instead of any particular monster. Let the masses make of it what they will. Even if it's only paper and paint rather than actual armor, it feel more like her natural skin than most of the clothing she finds in this place.

But the neck marks don't go unnoticed. Expression more or less hidden behind the 'helmet', Shepard slid through the crowd- walking, not dancing. Never dancing if she can help it- and tried to find the freshest marks around. Or, failing that, at least fall into a conversation with a more inebriated individual sporting the marks. She was going to find the host if it killed her. It was only polite.

But in the meantime, there's a world of other masked figures to try to gather information from. A conversation typically started with Shepard's signature 'hey' and a firm step into the individual's personal space.

[ex_assertiveness90]

The woman Shepard first runs into is neither sporting any marks on her neck, nor is she wearing a mask — she has one, a colorful red and orange paper construction resembling some sort of dragon, but it's dangling unworn from her hand by its elastic band. Her other hand is occupied by a half-glass of whisky, though she seems too distracted to drink much from it. The red silk blouse she's wearing almost blends in with the style of the rest of the crowd, but there's something about the pressed trousers and black high heels that suggests more professionalism than really fits here.

This is not Stella Gibson's scene. Her usual is quiet hotel bars with well-heeled clientele and a jazz piano — either that or a London pub, but not these rowdy bars with thumping music and people too drunk or high to remember where they are or what's going on. She's here for much the same reason — reconnaissance — but to say it's difficult to get a straight answer from anyone is a bit of an understatement.

Stella realizes she looks out of place, of course, and isn't especially surprised to catch someone's eye — though she wasn't expecting that someone to be so assertive about it. She turns, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin to look the other person in the face — a woman, she decides, from the voice and build. The helmet-like mask doesn't let her see many details, which is slightly off-putting, but for now she'll cope.

"May I help you?" she asks, even-voiced, neither her face nor her tone giving much away. She's not used to being approached so brusquely, but at the same time there is something in her that appreciates another woman who doesn't hesitate to be so straightforward.

Haseo | .hack//G.U. | Native AU

[betterlogoutand]

[Scenario Two]

[Haunted houses never appealed that much to Ryou, and he only became harder to impress after he died and started seeing ghosts. Now the idea of a fake haunting seemed rather childish—and not just in the "I'm too cool and mature for this stuff" kind of way. More like the "I glanced outside my window last night and saw something ten times more terrifying than a guy in a spooky mask covered in fake blood" kind of way. It's tough to compete with the real deal.

Still, it's fun to watch other people's reactions, and it gets Skeith to shut up for a little while in a non-lethal way, so it's an activity worth wasting time on.

There's no point heading in on his own so he lingers by the entrance, waiting for someone else to show up. He's not in costume, but he is wearing a hell of a lot of black leather and a dramatic cloak, so he probably looks like some kind of weird goth. He eyes the truck across the street while he waits.]

[hedophelianist]

[O had been thinking about going out tonight, so she's all dressed up in something short and tight and designer, but something about this little haunted house seemed to draw her when she drove by. So she parks her car a little ways down the block and across the street, then trots back to the entrance of the house.

There she pauses, seeing Ryou.]

You in line?

Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo | Mob Psycho 100 | Native AU (Mage)

[shigeo]

[SCENARIO THREE; THE PARTY DOWNTOWN]

[Mob, being a middle schooler, doesn't exactly blend into the crowd. But he heard about the party, and decided to investigate. He's found himself a mask, which is some crummy looking cutout, but it technically counts - for now.

He's investigating, practically having his back glued to the wall as he gazes on the party with his Mage Sight active. The place is practically crawling with corpses... he treads carefully, trying not to make a splash but certainly not taking any drinks if he can help it.]

[SCENARIO FOUR; THE PLAYGROUND]

[With everything decorated to look spooky, the actually unsettling things fit in a little better. Mob is here this evening, resting on a swing and looking around quietly, the chains creaking slightly as he gently rocked back and forth.

He's expecting to see ghosts, specifically, and perhaps to deal with them tonight. But he doesn't have a particularly solid lead, so he's settled for waiting. He perks up when he sees someone approaching the park...]

[3]

[modmachine]

A tall, muscular woman pauses on her way to getting a drink to look at him. Her skin is dark, but her ponytailed dreadlocks are dyed in a wide variety of colors, and her bare arms are covered in tattoos, mostly stars interlocked with broken chain links. Her mask is colored like a setting sun, but has crystal-like forms jutting up at the corners. To Mob's Mage Sight, she seems to glow dully with fire, like heated iron, especially around her hands. "Ain't you a little young for this club?"

Makoto Fukami | Kamen Rider Ghost

[transient_specter]

1

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

[svensk]

"Try to not have your hands crushed. I can get you to a hospital, but it would still be a shame."

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.

Isaudorel Valtin | FFXIV Warrior of Light/OC | Native AU

[forest_born]

I

Isaudorel’s trying to look normal, or at least as not-abnormal as an over six-foot dishwater blonde in a long white coat can look; he’s carrying an extending leash, but it’s not clipped to anything at the moment. The black canid trotting along beside him is wearing a dark red collar and doing her best to try to pass for a normal dog, ears perked, tail partly wagging, panting occasionally, but someone looking close enough and knowing what to look for would pick out that her head’s not quite the right shape, her build is off, and that Isaudorel is apparently nonchalantly “walking” a weirdly manageable wolf.

After a moment’s confused pause at the tree, he’s taking a look around and then sitting at the table, idly brushing away leaves to get a look at the plaque; the “dog” takes off to run a bit of a zig-zag around it, pausing to sniff at the ground in an act that includes looping back to sniff around the base of the tree.

Perfectly normal, nothing to see here, really.


IV

The big white “dog” nosing around the playground is wearing a collar – granted one that seems to be strung with various odd charms, bits of claws and teeth, and small trinkets.

There’s a tag on the collar, but it might be hard to get close enough to read it.

Of course whether or not someone falls for it depends entirely on how well versed someone is in the difference between dogs and wolves; granted, as wolves go, he’s oddly gaunt in ways that don’t entirely mesh with starvation, enough muscle and weight that he can’t be that unhealthy even if somehow that and his fur still seems to hang in ways that emphasize the bones under them.

If anyone stops and watches, he steps very carefully over the line of smashed pumpkin innards with a severe earflick, nosing around the playground with more attention paid to the see-saw and the bent merry-go-round, sniffing and investigating. He’s also hard to sneak up on without supernatural stealth, ears pricking straight up at any approach before he puts some obstacle between himself and whatever just arrived to get a better look at it.

1

[onecatmore]

As much of a cat person as Marja is - there is one on her shoulder right now that oddly seems completely unbothered by the big canid less than ten metres away - the sight is amusingly familiar, and she figures that if she plays things safe, she will be safe. And if not - there are no others here who will be harmed. She's on her own, but she also has nobody to look after, so there is no reason to not let her curiosity get the better of her.

Still, she will towards Isaudorel slowly, letting the wolf run off before approaching the table.

"Can you read it?"

She's tried before, but didn't get much out of the plaque.

Richter Belmont | Castlevania: Symphony of the Night | Native AU

[masterofthewhip]

II

It's not easy, being human in this world, and Richter's lost more than most. That's why he devotes much of his time to making sure that the threats that cost him so dearly are... minimalized. That doesn't mean he doesn't get downtime, though, and now he's wandering through district 6. It's not a patrol - the others he associates with have that more than covered. It's a genuine, time-wasting walk.

And if you believe that, you don't know hunters.

His eyes adjust to the dark between streetlights easier than they would have five years ago, before all this, but the lamps themselves are almost blinding. He's constantly on the lookout for flickers in alleys, listening for screams, and that leads him to the haunted house. He chuckles upon seeing it, but doesn't move to get closer. His reflexes against mundane actors could be... unfortunate, especially if they jump out at him. Or it could trigger his PTSD. Either way would be bad. Instead, he approaches the car, smiling politely. Of course, that'll be offset by the fact he's wearing a shoulder holster, if they know how to see one under a loose, half-zipped jean jacket.

"Evening, gents. Beautiful night, isn't it?"

IV

It's a long walk tonight, taking him near the core of the city. It gives him a moment's pause from his pursuits. This is what he could have had. But now, things have changed. The normally stoic man can be found at the playground, leaning on a fence and staring wistfully out over the structures. He's not listening for the approach of others, for once, so might respond with surprise if someone sneaks up on him, though.

IV

[runs]

Despite the late hour, there is a child on one of the swings, trying to figure out how to use them. She's given up on starting from a resting position at this point and instead grabs the chains with her hands to take a few steps back and then jump onto the seat, using the momentum to swing forth and back a few times, trying to somehow make the movement last. You have to move your legs, she knows, but whatever she is doing doesn't seem to be enough.

And then the swing isn't swinging anymore again and she slides off the seat to take a few steps back again.

It always looked so easy when children were doing it in trideo advertisements, the ones promoting some sweet food as healthy food for active children. It really isn't.

Beatrice | Umineko no Naku Koro Ni | Native (Mage) AU

[awitchdidit]

2

A haunted house. Really. The ambience was certainly far creepier than anyone probably intended, but Beatrice is more interested in determining if there's more reality behind the facade, or simply cheap jumpscares and perhaps a chainsaw. She observes from a distance for a fair bit, taking in the ambience, and the three out-of-place-seeming maybe-humans observing it.

Before heading in, she might wonder aloud to a passerby. "Is it just me, or is this even shadier than most haunted houses...?" asks the beautiful blonde woman hanging out alone near a junkyard.

3

Clubs are decidedly not Beatrice's scene. It's not that there's too many people - it's that there's too many corpses and herd animals. The sheer excess of physical passion and lack of thought here was enough to hurt her extra senses.

Still...this is the only bar around that serves actual absinthe, and it's easily the best-protected location in the city that a human could just walk into. Beatrice leans on the bar and sips at her wormwood concoction, looking slightly more cool and mysterious and less like a hopeless bookworm thanks to a golden butterfly mask. Hopefully, anyway.

If anyone's tired of dancing and wants to talk to the kind of girl who shows up at a party just to complain, she's definitely available for that.

2

[chalicejoker]

"I wouldn't know," the man passing by replies, "I generally don't do much with haunted houses." But something about this one is striking him as unusual and he'd been passing by with an eye towards figuring out exactly what's wrong with it. And with the camera hanging around his neck, he can kill two birds with one stone and get a little work done, too.

Lirael | Abhorsen

[roadstotheriver]

I. The Tree

"That's odd," the teenaged girl murmurs to herself, circling the tree and frowning. She's dressed in dark colors and her dark, heavy hair is loose around her shoulders and down her back. Both her hands are securely in her pockets (or rather, one hand and one stump where a hand should be, not that any but the most observant would notice the lack of a hand in that pocket), and her dark eyes are wary but curious. "Where does it plug in?"

Surely that power for the lights had to be coming from somewhere. Maybe it's related to that ticking....

IV. The Playground

Holidays and parties are not Lirael's cup of tea. She does not, in fact, want to be anywhere near most people tonight of all nights. So while a couple college dorm-mates had tried to drag her out for faux-trick-or-treating, she escaped in short order and found the nearest odd place to hide she could: a playground with no children whatsoever, probably because it looks creepy and awful.

She settles on one of the swings, not actually swinging, and stares fixedly at the see-saw, as if she's trying to place where she's seen it before, or trying to make it do something with the power of her mind alone.

IV

[modmachine]

The see-saw does not move, but Lirael does get to spot the fact that there's a dot of red paint on the bottom of the side that's tilted up.

The rest of the see-saw is notably not painted red, nor is red anywhere on the more visible part of the see-saw.

Corwin | OC

[crazycatvampire]

III. The Party

Parties are something humans do. They're not something Corwin has ever much enjoyed, but he keeps trying, in case maybe he's simply doing something wrong and one night it will just click and he'll suddenly know how to "party". At the very least, he's grateful that there are masks involved in this one, and costumes he can use to cover the rest of him. After all, he's hardly a pretty sight.

He lingers about the edges of the room, huge and awkward-looking at six and a half gawky feet tall, with his long hair ragged around the white, featureless mask, wrapped in a cloak. He's seen these creatures on television, animated demons of hunger. It suits, he supposes, well enough. When he tries to make small talk, his gravelly voice puts people off, but he tries, anyway.

"Are you well tonight?" he asks. Or, "Have you had enough to eat so that you do not have a headache in the morning, with all that drinking?" Or maybe, "How is it that so many can dance so well? Is it an easily learned skill?"

Maybe he's not so great at small talk.

II.

Corwin has been watching the proceedings for a while. He hasn't gone inside the bus-- his stature would make that uncomfortable, and he would probably fighten people more than the actual haunted house actors once beyond it, anyway-- but he has been watching with an avid and somewhat greedy curiosity.

"What frightens people about this?" he wonders aloud. "Do they enjoy being frightened? Or is it that it is patently false that makes it enjoyable?"

[chalicejoker]

Costumes can only hide so much. Though the demon is hiding his human face behind mask of his own. And something is off about this guy. "I wouldn't know how simple it is to learn how to dance," he comments at one of those questions. He hasn't been much for conversation and was only at the party to observe, but in this case, when he's curious... "I don't do it myself."

Sync the Tempest | Tales of the Abyss (newish arrival)

[fifthreplacement]

[1]

With having woken up in this weird-as-hell place, Sync isn't really sure what he makes of it at all. He doesn't trust anyone here, and simply explores around as much as he can, before finding the tree.

The sound of ticking is irritating, but it's not enough to stop him examining it with some curiosity. The gears were curious, even if they weren't moving. Like the tree was half real and half mechanical. Strange.

[4]

The playground seems strange. He's mostly just exploring the area, but something about the way it's almost entirely abandoned is odd. Sync moves around things carefully, not touching if he can help it. He's really not sure what to make of the way it's almost been attacked, the festive like decorations he's seen elsewhere in the city destroyed here.

"What happened here?" he wonders, mostly to himself.



((Sync's canon point is post-death, so he's at an 8 on the AU slider, with his AU self being a werewolf))

I

[runs]

Well, one thing can be said for certain: The cords which the lights are attached to are very smooth and slippery and can't be used as a bridge to the next branch of the tree.

As one little shapeshifter cat just found out.

There's a clattering jingling sound as lights hit each other and a crashing of branches above Sync, and then a black kitten comes crashing down from further up the tree, threatening to drop down exactly on Sync's head if he doesn't move out of the way quickly enough. At least she has turned around already so that she would hit him legs and claws first?

Rumplestiltskin | Once Upon a Time

[anuglyman]

II. The Wrecking Yard

The finely-dressed gentleman with the cane looks out of place here, but he comes up to the door of the bus anyhow and drops a few dollars into the donation bowl. "If I'm impressed, I may be back for seconds," he tells the young woman at the front with a bland sort of smile. "I do hope I'm impressed."

And he climbs inside with the help of his cane, along with whoever else was lingering around the entrance. He may be hoping for a nice evening meal in addition to some amusement at whatever else might be inside. "A fan of haunted houses, are we?" he asks his new, temporary companion. "Or just here for the curiosity?"

[chalicejoker]

The other man in the haunted house holds up the camera around his neck and looks bored. "My editor wants pictures." Even if the editor in question doesn't know it yet.

Malin Lindberg | Vampire: The Masquerade (no icons yet, sorry)

[movingon]

I.

She hates this place. It is too small, too cramped. Too full of people, and by that she doesn't only mean humans - in the most relevant ways they are the smallest issue. No. It's too full of kindred and lupines and God knows what else, too, she is sure. There is no way to run, really, and not enough places to hide. No matter if you go into the farmlands or the city, the park or anywhere else. Her only solace are dark corners and the abundance of free patches of earth, and that is about where it ends. She has to be eternally careful about feeding, here, too. Can't alert anyone to her presence - she doubts that that will work much longer, though. It would help if she knew anything about the politics and society of this place, but she doesn't, and she has no clue how she should find out without well, being noticed.

No, this place is no good for someone like her, who can't risk being noticed and really can't melt into the masses anymore. Trees are welcoming, the roofs of houses are welcoming. She would prefer to run on the ground, or even below the ground, but ever since she came here it has felt safer to stay where few will look (and most people rarely look up) and nobody with better abilities at hiding than her will reside. She hasn't made up her mind yet if she wants to run into any Nosferatu, but until then she'll avoid it.

So she feels as safe as ever after having hidden as high up as possible in the thickest part of this tree's the crown, dodging the decorations and what of the wheels she could, and is now moving to cautiously poke branches of the tree into one of the wheels. Maybe that will give her some idea about what they are, and maybe that in turn will grant her a way back home. Not that home is good, but it is at least not as bad.

Anyone who happens to look up will see a large shadow balancing easily on one of the branches, a long tail and wings of perhaps a metre wingspan each moving slowly to even out gusts of wind or movements of the thick branch she's sitting on.


Wildcard

In a dark alleyway, behind a few garbage bins, what looks like a beggar has set up camp for the night, huddled against a wall. A huge coat is covering the oddly shaped chunk of person entirely, hood drawn deep into their face to conceal it. A sensible nose will, over general smelliness, notice the thick musk of wet fur.

The scene is given an odd note by a laptop sitting in front of the person, a film flickering on in near-silence - the sound is minimal, though existent. Someone with sensible ears and some pop cultural knowledge will notice that the thing being watched is Star Truck, an episode from the early 2000s.


[Will match format, just reply in brackets if you prefer that.]

Trixie Dixon | Black Jack Justice (Native AU)

[trixieplease]

1.

Trixie finds the presence of cold iron soothing. Now, the technical definition of cold iron is surprisingly uncooperative, but even the potential for a defense where the fae are concerned keeps her calm. As for cheesy Halloween decorations, no matter how peculiar, she's not that impressed. Holiday spirit has always evaded her, aside from the bits that come with lots of alcohol.

But the kitsch isn't enough to chase away her interest in the plaque. Her crouch to peer at it is a little precarious, soft earth and perilously high heels never the best combination. The shoes aren't part of her mask. She just values style over practicality sometimes.

4.

She does not like children. Has never liked children. But faintly, in the back of her mind, she worries about them. Their wellbeing is important even if she wants nothing much to do with it. She only ventures into the park to see if the battered merry go round is even safe, vaguely intending to call someone and start complaining if it looks not to be. She's not sure who to call, but she's good at riding the waves of other people's unwillingness to break social convention until something works out the way she wants it. She's probably asking to get mugged, but terrorizing a mugger might improve her mood a little. Her movements are businesslike and her expression dares anyone to object to her bad decision making skills.

4.

[crazycatvampire]

There is in fact someone in the playground, hard to see in the dim light as he's shrouded in a long black cloak, crouched over by the merry go round itself, and his white mask is turned away from her. At the crisp sound of her high heels on the cement, though, he straightens up to a towering six and a half feet or more and half-turns towards her. His costume, if she might recognize it, is based strongly on this creature, and he seems to ooze unnaturalness-- a literal disquiet.

"I'm sorry, were you going to use this?" His voice is rough and raspy, but not ungentle. "I can leave. Though I don't think it will turn properly."

Rita Du Clark | iZombie (tv series - spoilers for late season 2)

[unheeled]

2: neighborhood watch

[There's a neighborhood watch even out here? Damnit. Any of them could be working for the company, with instructions to lock her up in the subbasement for observation. "Until we find a cure"? Right. More like "until you snap and we have an excuse to kill you."

At least she fits in with the freaks here, with her pallor and white hair. Hell, maybe she should go into the haunted bus and wend her way into a group, follow them out, go somewhere else.

Yeah, that's a good plan.

Normally, Rita wouldn't bother leaving donations, but she doesn't want to stick out in the creepy goth girl's memory. Make strangers into allies, be likable -- that's how she's going to survive.

Except she's broke. All her things are back in the subbasement, or in the apartment her father kidnapped her from in the first place.

Muttering a curse, she looks around for anyone who looks approachable (or at least not repulsive) and heads over to them, smile friendly or sultry, depending on the person.]

Hi, sorry to bother you -- I got mugged a minute ago. I'm supposed to meet my friends in the haunted house, but I don't like to go in without leaving the girl up front some money. Could you maybe spare some change?

[She holds onto the smile even as she grows angriee and angrier inside. Rita Du Clark, reduced to begging. For fuck's sake.]


4: playground

[It's quiet and devoid of children, but it's still an ugly sore in this already ugly city. It used to be prettier, didn't it? Flowers, birds chirping, shops with prettier displays, people running or walking, with dogs or partners, alone. Families having picnics. Hipsters sitting with artesanal coffee. College students playing sports, drinking the energy drink her father's company makes.

Instead it looks as desolate and empty as her childhood was.

Rita hates it.]

The mayor should have it bulldozed. [She mutters this to no one in particular.] I should make my father buy it and turn it into something else.

[But her father isn't here. Where is he, again? Gone for a while. She's glad. He's a piece of shit.]

I should buy it. [Prove she's smarter than her father. Prove she's better.

She looks like she might just go do that if no one stops her train of thought.]

4

[runs]

Most of it still works.

[The little girl that soundlessly moved in and now stands a few metres to her right eyes her critically.

When people start talking about buying things, sending bulldozers, making things better, it usually means that they want to get profits out of the area - kick people out, put something profitable there. A playground in the worse parts of town sounds just like a place that would meet that fate. And ...okay, she may be a bit sentimental, but she learned how to use swings here.]

Kenny McCormick || South Park

[i_cant_die]

1

Fall was always a time for pumpkin spice, hot soup, and raking leaves. This was why Kenny was hanging out by the dorm rooms. He was hoping people would come with food or drinks to the table by the trees. He'd be able to ask for some or snatch it away when no one was looking. It seemed this place wasn't popular though. It left Kenny with one thing to do. He pushed the leaves together before he ran and jumped into his little piles. Leaves flew into the air and he laughed. Simple fun for a child, until he got bored. He jumped in one more pile and just laid there this time, staring up at the tree and the leaves. That was when he first noticed it. The ticking. He blinked and looked around.

"Hrm hrmrm hrmr?"

Translation: What the hell?

2

Halloween was getting close and who didn't like a Haunted House? Kenny noticed the pickup truck with the two guys inside. He wondered if they really were the neighborhood watch. Did people really advertise that kind of thing? The fidgeting one seemed super nervous about something. Were they expecting trouble? He walked toward the girl at the table. He reached into his pocket and threw in a few pennies into the bowl. It was easy finding pennies on the ground. He walked passed her and into the bus. Time to see if this thing was actually scary or not. Maybe he would stay inside a while and watch through the windows. See if those guys in the truck were legit or not. The girl was cute, maybe she's give him a kiss for saving her.

4

What kid didn't like the playground? When Kenny found it, he was happy to see something familiar. In fact, he'd been spending a few nights here in the park when it wasn't raining or too cold. He found he could sleep under the slide and no one would bug him. He wasn't here to sleep today though. He was trying to see how fast he could get the merry-go-round to move. He was using one foot to push as he held onto a bar. It wasn't easy with it wobbling and the loud screeching of the metal was annoying. Still he kept trying. It would be cool it see just what happened to this old thing if he got it spinning super fast.

He knew it would be easier with more people but he doubted anyone would come play with him. This place wasn't very popular.

3

[runs]

"What are you doing there?"

The girl standing near the merry-go-round is wearing a thick coat and a brightly coloured hat with a Hello Kitty on it, and right now seems to be neither convinced nor opposed to whatever it might be that this boy is doing.

Junpei Tenmyouji | Zero Escape | OTA

[junpeingin]

[ Four ]

Junpei is investigating the playground. First he looks confused as he looks at the bent up merry go round, taking a moment to sit on it and try to turn it; he laughs at himself as it squeaks at him, as if it's telling him that he's far too old. Next he approaches the other equipment, curious at the rust and dirt. He rubs his finger on his chin as he examines them, glancing around himself at the fact the place is eerily lacking in decorations. Except for the pumpkins. He frowns as his eyes catch on one again. He'd barely noticed them the first time, simply stepping over the guts, but now they truly catch his attention.

Leaning over, he runs a finger through the orange line, then straightens up, examining the guts he comes back with. He tries to decide if there's anything out of the ordinary about the pumpkin guts, before looking around him again. He shivers at the cool night, and decides that there's more that's eerie about this place than just the fact it's lacking decoration.

After a few minutes, he leaves, heading for..

[ Three ]

He's hardly the best dancer but he still finds himself at the party anyway. His mask is simple and made of construction paper, a childish facsimile of a sheep. He's trying to dance on the dance floor but he stumbles often, still he looks like he is having fun. However, Junpei is quite lonely by himself and it shows with the flashes of emotion in his eyes occasionally.

Perhaps he could use some company. In the middle of strangers isn't enough, though he doesn't plan to leave all night.

[notachickenhawk]

There's a rustling in the trees above Junpei, and while he's investigating the pumpkin line, there's the sound of footsteps landing on the ground. If he turns around, he'll spot a teenager, a little younger than him, leaning against a tree and watching him. He doesn't say anything, not yet, but he doesn't look impressed.