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aftr_ooc2019-03-16 08:47 pm
lifeaftr_mods) wrote in aftr_ooc2019-03-16 08:47 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME ( 021 )
Test Drive Meme #21
Hello, and welcome to LifeAftr! We're pleased that you're expressing an interest in the game. Here, you can test the waters, gauge how your character may fare in the world of LifeAftr, and even gain some in-game incentives, if you so choose.
In conjunction with our monthly Test Drive Meme, Reserves are now open! Applications will open on March 24th!
Two important notes:
In conjunction with our monthly Test Drive Meme, Reserves are now open! Applications will open on March 24th!
1. LifeAftr's test drives take place on the island of Mu, which exists apart from the real world and possesses a dream-like quality that characters are innately aware of from the moment they appear on its shores. No need to panic or fret. Dreams are odd things, after all - and anything can happen in them. Why would anyone question where their mind chooses to wander in its sleep?
2. Due to the nature of Mu, threads in our test drive can not only be accepted as thread samples in your application, but can be accepted as game canon as well. In fact, certain choices your character makes in Mu have the potential to bear in-game consequences, largely in the form of test drive reward items.
Come to Ink Of It
Mu is a strange land, and one that seems to take a conscious interest in the activities conducted upon the waking world. This month, its fixation takes an almost childish delight in emulating the ink-spattered wars and hazing that have occured on Ensō's shores - which is to say, Mu would absolutely enjoy a charming little game of Splatoon.
When you wake, it's in a labyrinth of soft, stonelike material that manages to be the rough consistency of foam. If you take the time to inspect it, you'll discover that it's as good at cushioning blows as it is serving as adequate cover...and it appears to have been shaped into plenty of buildings and barricades, threaded throughout the cavernous room in which you've found yourself. In fact, the whole place looks very much like a battlefield of some kind.
Do keep in mind, however, that battle cries may be a double-edged sword in this scenario. Unless you wanted green teeth.
I AM THE SHADOW, THE TRUE
...SHELF
What's more trouble than the true manifestation of all your darkest fears, desires, and secrets? The manifestation of all of the above that's just - not very well-made. In order for a shadow, a true self, to appear, one really should know themself somewhat consciously. Of course, this also applies true to the world in which they're standing; an effort Mu is willing to make, but not quite hitting the mark.And by "not quite hitting the mark," we mean egregiously.
Unlike ordinary Shadows, a "Shadow" cannot be accepted and dissipate as one would hope. Respite from these garish versions of who you really are will come only upon waking. So until then, enjoy attempting to explain just what, precisely, is dogging your every step, and probably refusing to shut up all the while. Though granted, if they share any of your powers - grossly magnified or otherwise - you might be grappling with them in far more ways than one.
A Bug's Eye View
The lush, verdant shores and the peaceful population of newly-arrived island of Cahypdo have been noticeably present on the minds of the islanders lately. Mu has shifted to reflect those thoughts, but as with many things Mu reflects, things have become a little...skewed. For, you see, the native inhabitants of Cahypdo are the Roaka, and as tree-people, they tower over much of the current inhabitants. They range from six to twelve feet in height, generally, but it seems that their heights have left a....very marked impression.
Trees are dizzying heights to be scaled the same way a mountain might. Blades of grass and colourful flowers you might once have trodden on without a second thought are like a forest unto themselves. And the fields of crops you might have known from the waking world, like sweetcorn, peas, and tomatoes? Even a single ear of corn or a solitary tomato is now a much, much larger obstacle.
Just pray you don't run into any of the native creatures here, as even ordinary beasts can become potential dangers when they're all the size of giants relative to you, and can stamp you to jelly without so much as a second glance. Snaplings might regard you as a tasty little snack, tigerlilies might think you make for a fun little toy, and worst of all, the native Cahypdo entities known as hydrac, warped hybrids of sharks and dragons, might very well decide that you'd be a fine addition to their hoards.
There's a lot to look out for, when you're this small and the world is this big.
( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )
no subject
Right into the oversized greenery, like some scarlet phantom.
Only for there to be a rustle in some lower hanging twigs.
She'd doubled back. Of course she did, peering down at the little shape below her with no small amount of... what would almost appear to be shock.]
... Little Ghost?
[Perhaps more apt a term now, of all times, from what recent memory dredged up.]
no subject
They come to a standstill only when they can't see her at all, any more. There's a rustling high above them - it could be an animal, it could be some kind of monster, it could --
They look up, catching sight of her at last.
They can't help but reach up at the sound of her voice, even though it's impossible to reach her from where they are.
After a moment of stretching their hand out, they seem to realise how silly it looks to do that, and drop it again, tucking their cloak more tightly around them in a furtive, almost embarrassed movement.
But they keep that seemingly-empty stare on her. ]
no subject
It was silly to reach.
She could easily jump down to them.
It was an effortless move, landing with casual, exquisite ease not but a few feet from the Knight, hesitating in closing the gap so quickly. She knew, after all, what she'd seen on the floor of the Temple of the Black Egg. There would be no other Knights, after them, she was sure of this.
But this wasn't a different vessel, she knew what the little ghost, her little ghost, looked like.]
... Even now, you still linger in my dreams...?
no subject
(They had always wondered what happened after.)
...They nod, after a moment. Yes.
This is a dream, and she is here, and so are they.
They extend their hand, from under their cloak, and-- stop.
Their body language suggests hesitance, and something like fear; some dreams simply vanish or stop or transform into something else entirely when they are touched, after all.
They don't want to break it. They don't want to do something wrong. And even if she is real enough to touch, she had never asked or wanted for affection, so it would be wrong to force it on her.
All sorts of thoughts running through their head. They just keep their hand there, outstretched, paralyzed with sudden indecision. ]
no subject
So many things still left to say, to tell them. Inconsequential now, they were forever beyond needing her assistance anymore.
But there was perhaps at least one thing, lingering yet, that mattered.
They hesitated, and for a moment, she scrutinized every inch of them, looking for any possible flaw. A single difference, a single mistake that might suggest that she wasn't truly looking upon The Knight, as she'd known them.
Frozen there, the both of them, before slowly, with only the barest hint of uncertainty, she bridged the divide between them, the tips of her fingers resting atop their hand.]
.... Even in dreams, I'll not be banished so easily.
[Aware, it seemed, as to what might be causing their indecision.]
no subject
But in the end, it's a simple thing. A question voicelessly asked, an answer given.
Maybe, if they had been the same person they were at the start of this journey, they would have left it at their brief contact. If it hadn't been a year and more, if so many things hadn't happened, they would have been content in their ever-present stoicism.
But they're not.
Something in them seems to crack at that touch, and before they really grasp what they're doing they practically throw themselves at her in a hug. It's childish and clumsy, and they should probably be more mature than this, more like the vessel who had taken responsibility for an entire kingdom's fate, but--
This is a dream, so they're allowed, maybe. This is a dream, so it's fine.
It's like another emptiness has opened up in them again.
They missed her. They didn't even realise how much. ]
no subject
No attack, of course, was coming from this. No, just a little body clinging to her, no different than any other child. She stayed frozen for a moment, staring down at them, before she'd allow herself to move. To bring her hands down to their shoulders, the back of their head. To slowly, if perhaps a touch awkwardly, reciprocate.
Not to humor though, as that strange feeling bubbled over and tried to drag her to her knees.
Missed you. She was distantly surprised she stayed upright.]
You've... done so well, little ghost. I'd not the time to tell you-
[They'd been gone before she had the chance]
I- we... owe you so much.
no subject
It's not for them, they might have thought once (and part of them still thinks that). No words or comfort for a discarded vessel, trudging numbly through the ashes of a dead kingdom, stained with regrets and essence and blood; only what must be done to correct the mistakes of the past, and bring about the end.
(In some ways, they are a ghost, just as she's named them to be. A ghost of the past, never meant to live, haunting the ruins of a place that never knew they existed.)
"I owe you so much."
Replying to that would require them to let go, and they don't want to let go.
Instead, they shake their head, insistent.
She doesn't owe them anything. Didn't she save them and herself and Hallownest, too, in the end? Without her, all their efforts would have been in vain. Without her, they would have had no choice but to become the next vessel, to repeat that terrible cycle anew.
They'd already known what they were giving up, breaking the mask that contained them for good. It's one thing to know in abstract what it means, to quietly mourn for the life they'd never have again.
It's another thing entirely to know what the cost did to someone else.
(In the end, they're just as terrible in some ways. They gained her trust, they witnessed her vulnerability, and then they left her.
If there's anything they have wanted to say the most, it is only this:
I'm sorry.)
They're starting to tremble. They don't know how to stop. ]
no subject
But such comparisons didn't matter anymore. One of them had passed on, one of them remained. At least in the land of the waking.
They began to shake, and it was then that her knees buckled. Not in a moment of emotional weakness, but to better grasp them. They wouldn't have to let go of her, she'd make sure of that.
Right on the same level, upon one knee she rested, pulling them in for a far better hug. At home, in Hallownest, she had her own set of duties to attend to. But here, right now, they were hardly the same. Her position here, now, was kin, and as she dedicated herself to all aspects of her task at home, thus would she more than just willingly dedicate herself here.]
I do not begrudge you leaving.
I understand.
no subject
They had been content, or at least they had felt something close to it. There had been time to rest, after their endless struggle; a sleep and existence that lasted something like forever.
But they were never really happy. They pushed that away (it's not for them).
This place has given them some semblance of it, and it feels painful all over again.
She pulls them into a tighter hug and they stiffen, startled; it's still not a gesture they're used to. But they relax quickly, fearful that she might think it's a rejection; they cling more tightly to her, burying their masked face in her shoulder. They give off the impression that if they were able to cry, they would be.
It's an unrestrained and entirely childish reaction. All their barriers and defenses have broken away so easily in the face of this simple gesture.
(Part of them, the part that had been violently brought to the surface not so long ago, finds it...discomforting. An idea instilled. A failed vessel. Weak for affection and for love, not unfeeling as they were made to be.
The scars of their father's ideals still remain.)
She understands, she doesn't begrudge them. The feelings are hot and painful in their chest, a twisted and complicated knot.
I didn't want to leave.
You shouldn't have to forgive me. ]
no subject
She quite nearly did, for a moment having worried that perhaps she'd misread this. No, it would turn out. She'd most certainly did not. They clung to her tightly, and even as she held them, it was with a certain degree of looseness. An out, should they feel the need for it. There was no desire to trap them.
Unrestrained and childish, that feeling would be mutual, as she fought for a moment to keep herself from tightening her grip on them. Like a dam threatening to break, the flood of feelings pushed against iron clad defenses.
Her hand just pressed lightly against the back of their head as her heart sat itself in her throat. There'd be an argument, if she knew the entirety of what was running through their head. They couldn't fail, they hadn't failed after all, and now there was nothing left, as a vessel, for them to fail at. A full, and complete victory, though at a cost almost far too great.]
It is not your fault.
[She could only basically understand them, through motions, through actions, but ever still-]
What a wonderful gift you have left for us, little ghost. I can only thank you.
no subject
What else can they do?
They feel like they should let go, eventually. Reluctantly, by inches, they loosen their grip and withdraw, adjusting their position until they're sitting beside her.
They keep their head turned to look at her, though; there's a tenseness to their body that suggests...
Well, it could suggest a lot of things. But they are tense because they are afraid to look away, even despite her reassurances; anything can change in a dream. She might disappear.
(They know that looking at her or not looking at her won't change whether she leaves or not; it's not up to them. Deep down, they know that. But they have to hold onto something, to avoid thinking about everything else.)
They scratch words in the ground, slowly, hampered by their insistence to keep looking at her. But they're legible, all the same.
you are
well ?
It's an open-ended question. She can answer in any way she wants or not at all. Mostly, they just want to talk to her.
They're bad at small talk. ]
no subject
She notes the refusal to look away, even to the note they're now scratching into the dirt.
Honestly, it was understandable, it was difficult on her own part, to look away down at the writing. It certainly wouldn't appear as much, the hesitation barely a second long before she'd read what they wrote.
Quickly looking back up within a moment, of course. Don't worry, she's not exactly the best at small talk either.]
As well as I can be.
I admit, I had not expected to see you here.
[Not in life of course, nor in dreams. The end had been so... well, final.]
For all that you are a dream, you seem so real.
no subject
Is it better to leave things as they are?
...They don't know.
did not expect you either
They fidget a little, their cloak shifting in the movement and revealing...something, briefly. Some kind of scar upon their shell that wasn't there before. Though they haven't grown at all, it's a noticeable change.
sometimes strange dreams like this come
they do not last ]
no subject
Where they were, alive and whole.
Her head tilts, down towards the flash of something beneath their cloak. An imperfection that hadn't been there, when she'd last saw them in one piece.
That, atop what they just wrote out to her, gave way to a lot more questions than any actual answers. The hesitation now was not just of emotion: to be honest she wasn't sure what she should be asking first. She found one, one that had been growing since they'd reached out to her, and had only become more pressing.]
... You are so strangely self aware, for a dream.
[The actual question unspoken, but it was obvious all the same. This was no mere, idle dream, was it?]
no subject
(Maybe they'll remember this one, or maybe they won't. They don't know.)
But she's smart. Smarter than them in some ways, certainly. It's not a surprise that she's already picked up that something is...off, about this dream, and it's not just in her head.
...Well, not entirely in her head, anyway. This place is so strange. They've accepted its rules, but they don't entirely know how it works, even now.
They ponder how best to explain it.
we are in different places
far away from each other
dream is a bridge between them
for a while
sometimes the people i dream of here come to the place i am
sometimes not ]
no subject
One of them was, for all intents and purposes, very, very dead. It'd stand to reason of course they'd be in different places but then-
Well, the dead might visit in dreams, but it wasn't precisely like this. A complicated topic indeed, one that she herself was struggling to fully understand.]
Little Ghost... you still yet live, somewhere?
[Far outside the tunnels of Hallownest? That's definitely what it sounded like they were saying, it'd be far easier to just believe had she most certainly not looked upon their broken remains herself]
no subject
They look down and away for a moment, then nod.
do not know how or why
but i do
They've had little idea what to do with such a significant gift. They had expected the end to be...the end of it.
It wasn't. What use was there for a ghost in a living world? But somehow, they'd found a purpose anyway, and it had filled their life with colours and sights and sounds they'd never known before. Affection freely given.
the people there are nice to me
i do not know why
even when i tell them i am a vessel
they still care for me
...
i care about them very much
Their words are already becoming more scattered, more incoherent, like before, when they knew very little. But it's something that comes with emotions, too, and they're so much more full of them now than they were before. ]
no subject
Was it too soon, too naive, to jump at the possibility?
They continued, elaborating the best they could upon their situation. Their confusion of the kindness of others (warranted, they'd surely never known much care for them, given for no reason), their ignorance of where they might be, or how they arrived (also entirely warranted, she'd never heard of such a thing happening before). What was she to say, when she had just as much information as they did?
She could easily tell, however, that something had clearly changed, inwardly. That emptiness, it seemed, had begun to fill.
It was something she did not know how to address, instead, she moved to reach for them again, to try and press her fingertips to the place where she'd seen that scar upon them, now hidden by their cloak]
What has happened to you here?
[The scar, this new, inexplicable fullness]
no subject
They look down, feeling a slight, phantom twinge of pain at both the question and the gesture. They could leave it at being injured in a way that didn't heal, yes. They could, effectively, lie by omission and spare her the burden of that knowledge.
But they want to be more open, more honest. If any lesson has stuck here, it is that one.
myour siblingsaw our father's ghost
it was not real . would have killed them
they did not know that
we fought
they hurt me
A pause.
fine now They feel the need to add. They don't blame their sibling. It's understandable. But the pain still exists. ]
no subject
The eldest, then, was here, something else she'd definitely not expected. At this point though, perhaps she'd just have to expect that instead.
Anything seemed liable to happen now.
She could not blame the Hollow Knight either, for their attack. Not really. She remembered the battle prior after all, and even then held no grudge against them. They did as they were meant to, as they were taught to, for better or for worse. She could no more be angry at them for it than she could be angry at the rain for falling.
... It didn't stop the odd, deep pang, however. Unaddressed, it would remain.]
... Who else, from Hallownest, has made this distant other world their home...?
[She'd not address the specter of the wyrm, nor question the reality of their sibling, still trying to figure out what question should be properly asked first. There were so many.
Did their sibling still yet suffer then? What was their state, were they whole? Was this land populated with the dead? All of them brought some measure of distant, but distinct pain. She'd wait, just for a bit, to ask each of them. Perhaps she'd find better words.]
no subject
In the end, they can't bring themselves to bear more than a lingering resentment for being wounded.
grimm
troupe master
do not know if you ever saw him
that is all
Their answer is simple. They have little to say, it seems.
In truth, it's pleasant to be able to talk in a way they didn't allow themselves to before, that seemed too slow and cumbersome in a world designed for quick action and quicker thought. Too dangerous to communicate, or too burdensome.
But they have time now. They'll savor it. Just for a little while.
]