Hᴇx - ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
modmachine) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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. | |
no subject
And by your talking, this place resembles your home? Where'd that be?" Climate, seasons, decoration - all things that would be different between places. She runs her hand over one of the benches to check if it's dry and, when it turns up positive, sits down and stretches out her legs. She's been running around quite a lot since coming here.
no subject
[He couldn't help but smile a little as he said that; it was important to find humor in the small things after all.]
"Y'can still feel the bustle'a activity 'round here, its proper city-like...but its almost like'a mask or somethin'. 'S unsettlin', innit?"
no subject
[She makes a vague gesture at the far away walls and the gears in them.]
...So it resembles the north east of the US. That's where you came from, I guess?
no subject
"Born'n raised. Great grandfather came over from Ireland lookin' fer better work, family's lived in Vinegar Hill ever since then."
[Not the biggest or best town, but it was nice for what it was worth.]
"How 'bout you?"
no subject
[...Kind of the most accurate comprehensive description, but] Germany, recently. Not a bad place, all in all. Crowded, though. [The amount of people is less the issue than all that a lot of humans tend to bring with them in the western world. Still, it's a good place to live and raise a child.]
no subject
[Hospital life was a fairly busy one, but once you saved up enough vacation days, you could do just about anything.]
New York's pretty much t'same, jus' gotta watch where y'walk an' at what time is all.
[And not just because of the normal crime rate.]
no subject
[...]
Have you looked around this place at all yet?
no subject
[Those were mysteries he could figure out when he'd actually found a group of people to work with. He was a healer, not a fighter, and he was getting the distinct impression that the gun holstered under his coat wasn't going to be as effective as he was hoping it would be in an emergency.]
no subject
[And she's very unsettled by that. Walls simply engulfing this whole place like a cave, alike to the room that she was in that one time a good while ago, would be easier to stomach for her than... nothing.]
no subject
Nothin'? There's not'a single thing past them walls there? Like we're trapped in'a box or somethin' like that?
[What kind of paradoxical bullshit had he fallen into this time?]
no subject
But no, the only thing beyond them seem to be clouds at the foot of the wall. I haven't had time yet to look at it in any depth, but the place seems to be as large as the inside of the walls.
[Which is a lot.
...She might not trust this guy, but she's getting the feeling that he's a good person to discuss this with, so she relaxes somewhat. Another mage? Maybe.
She doesn't know enough to hurt anything if he's not trustworthy, after all.]
no subject
Mnn...what sorta devils magic could conjure that? If there's more'n us what were whisked away from home, we should get t'formin' groups sooner'n later t'parse this out. I dunno 'bout you, but I ain't keen on stayin' in this not box fer any longer than I gotta.
no subject
[She throws an uneasy glance around and then before continuing to speak gestures for the path leading away from the tree.]
It is easier to speak while walking, I have found.
[She isn't sure if one can even get away from the gears in this place, not for good, anyway, but she'll feel a bit less nervous speaking of them when she doesn't stand directly next to ones.
no subject
[With a nod, Declan extinguished his cigarette with the heel of his shoe and with a flick, shot it towards a nearby refuse bin once he'd made sure the embers were properly out. It bounced a little near the edge and for a second it looked like it would fall onto the grass...but it went in, much to his satisfaction. Looks like his aim needed work.
Either way, with that out of the way, he began to walk towards the path the woman had indicated...which brought up a point for him.]
Ah...right, right, where are my manners? I'm Declan Blake, I should have introduced m'self earlier, I do hope y'can forgive m'oversight.
no subject
I would offer you a hand to shake, but that is always a bit awkward when walking.
[She flashes him a brief grin and then turns serious again. Making a decision, she opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a black shadow - a cat, it turns out - stepping out of the tall grass next to the path and standing there, waiting for them.]
There you were. [She bends down when they reach the cat and picks it up, placing it on her shoulder, and then repeating the action with what seems to be thin air, placing the lack of cat on the other shoulder before looking back at Declan.] If you see an orange and white tabby, tell me. I'd rather not lose them in this new place, and Felix doesn't have proper hunting instincts so he needs someone to look after him. ....Anyway, yes.
I've seen something ...vaguely similar before, and we wouldn't have been able to get out of there alone once the entrance was closed. It ...wasn't properly attached to any place and didn't seem to have been made by the guy using it. [It would have been a lot less worrying if that guy had looked even remotely like he was in charge of the thing. Not reassuring, but less worrying.] More like it hosted him. [Beyond that, she just can't tell. Sons of Ether stuff. She tends to get along well with people of that group, but they're over there doing their thing and she's over here doing her thing over here and they don't really touch. She couldn't tell where the guy's contraptions started and stuff that seemed more borrowed began, even though she got the impression that both were present.] Again, it was similar, not the same, but... [But she doesn't like where those thoughts lead her.]