hugme_mes | April Test Drive Meme

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April Test Drive Meme

a boy riding a black dragon as it flies through the air

April (Lasai) Test Drive Meme
Premise ♥ Setting ♥ Rules ♥ FAQ ♥ Mod Contact

The city has warmed up quite a bit, and the residents are enjoying springtime again. Colour is swiftly returning to the city; the grass is growing in green, flowers are starting to bloom, and the shades of the city are switching out as the next dominant god stakes a claim on their part of the year.

If you are curious about the situation of the city at large, have a look at our current World Status Page!

❥ PROMPT I: Char-cute-erie

various food items with googly eyes and legs or wings ambling around a rainy forest

The city's food replicators are working a little too well lately. On occasion, the replicator may spit out an extra portion of whatever you've ordered in a very dysfunctional form. That healthy apple, comforting bowl of noodles, or 3am grilled cheese? You might just get one that quite literally sprouts legs and comically large googly eyes before skittering around causing all sorts of trouble.

The native researchers have devised a solution; there are some fenced-in enclosures near the research centers and there are specialized pseudo-butterfly nets for available to anyone looking to help catch the adorable menaces. They'll offer a small dora reward to anyone who can bring them these strange little creatures alive and unharmed for research purposes. Of course, you may be so hungry after chasing down your lunch that you might just want to eat it... (they're pretty gross, though.)

❥ PROMPT II: Peace, Love, and Psychedelic Technicolor

a tiled roof with rainbow shingles and an open window in the center

While there are still some (literal) bugs occurring in the system, overall the natives have seen a drastic improvement in both Havenwell and Aellyn as a whole thanks to the offworlders. The seasons have been stabilizing, the city has expanded, and the people are happier than they've ever been. As the winter months start to give way to spring, it seems that happiness is spreading throughout the city. Everywhere the colors of the city seem brighter and more vivid. The emerging greenery really pops against the last vestiges of the snow, and the gods' statues in the city square are more vibrant than usual. The natives are taking this to be a good sign, however, as the colors of the barrier are even more pronounced than ever before, making the sky itself rainbow hued! It also appears to be stronger, with fewer weak spots along the outer edges.

Within Havenwell, though, any color in the city has its brilliance hyped up to the nth degree. Reds are redder, blues are bluer, and whites? Uh...those can actually be kind of blindingly bright. Which is not great, considering the main color scheme of the city is white and gold. Yikes. Better get some sunglasses out, offworlders, because while the natives can just turn down the brightness scale on their visual cortexes, the rest of you might need some help not being blinded by the light.

Moreover, all those colors might be pretty, but as time goes on, people may find that their favorite blue sweater? Is now their favorite rainbow sweater. Or their favorite tie-dyed sweater. Or their favorite constantly color changing sweater like it's some sort of hyperactive mood ring. Colors in the city are going absolutely haywire: switching around, turning rainbow-colored, reverberating iridescent everywhere. Buildings, clothes, hair, food, you name it. If it exists within Havenwell, its colors are not safe from being flipped topsy-turvy for awhile.

Have fun however you like with the setting! Make a network-style toplevel, make up other prompts based on the general setting, go wild. Havenwell is your oyster.

This TDM is for the April-May application rounds. If you have any questions, feel free to direct them to the FAQ or to the Mod Question thread below. The reservation rounds begin 3 days before the next application round at 10:00PM EST and our applications will run from the 2nd 10:00PM EST to 9th 10:00PM EST of the following month.

♥ Taken Characters ♥ Reservations ♥ Applications ♥

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She waves off his promise with an absentminded motion of her hand. ]

Think naught of it. I have more than enough funds saved, and little to spend it on. [ The house for Gaius put a significant dent in her savings and yet she still has more than enough to continue making frivolous purchases. ] But if you truly wish to repay me, sparring with my husband would void any debts.

[ At that, Era sets them on their way. She sticks close enough to him that she isn't walking in front of him, but two steps ahead by his side; a guiding presence rather than a leading one. If need be she can take charge, but Era has always preferred to walk with others as equals.

There is little need to talk, save to point out locations of interest, such as shops that would prove useful to him in the future. Before the reach the tailor's they come near Valeo, a place that makes her steps slow to a crawl. Era looks in the front window to see if Regis is there and, unsurprisingly, he is.

Her confident posture begins to waver, though her expression remains steadfastly affected. She ushers them on their way before the king has a chance to spot her, knowing she would feel obligated to stop by. ]

Valeo is the local apothecary, and sells various potions, herbs, and bathing products. It is owned by Regis Lucis Caelum, though I help him sometimes. He is a good person, and his medicines potent...

Though if you happen to be injured you're welcome to contact me—I am skilled in both healing magicks and have some training as a chirurgeon.

[In his experience, very little is freely given. He trusts few motives and fewer people without restraint. Even Alberic had ulterior motives for taking him in as a boy.

That being said, he also knows when to pick his battles. He shall just have to do something to pay the tab later, as it were. Simply being a sparring partner for her husband seems like an uneven trade, especially as testing his arm against a man who'd nearly bested the Warrior of Light, or so she says, would be something that he would wish to do anyway.

As he's thinking about that, he does have to modify his stride to keep from overtaking her. She's quick, but he simply has much longer legs.

As she explains Valeo and its owner, he makes note of the location.]

I had guessed at the magicks. Your Carbuncle seems very...animated.

[Is that the right word to use? He's honestly not sure. Alphinaud's summon had been similarly energetic and independent, but some others he'd seen on his travels far less so.]

It is more willful than most, though I taught myself how to create it as a child so it's no surprise I put the wrong sort of aether into it.

[ Era could never being herself to change anything about it, 'imperfect' as it may be. Her Carbuncle was the deepest wish of a lonely child long since dead to the world, including herself. ]

In retrospect, heretical magic was likely not the best choice as an auri child living in Coerthas. Fortunately the Inquisition was ill-equipped to deal with an adolescent 'dragonspawn' and a Carbuncle.

[ She can't hold back the roll of her eyes. For people at war with Nidhogg's brood for millennia you'd think they could tell the difference between the dragons and the Au Ra. But even near the end of the war there were those in Ishgard who would hiss dragonspawn at her as an insult. Racist pricks. ]

I would little know the difference.

[It's fine. Better the little creature have some spark, rather than the ones he'd seen trailing docilely after adventurers out in the world.]

...likely not for lack of trying.

[He knows the Inquisition certainly would have, and even if they hadn't, the prejudices against anything that even smacks of dragons would run deep.

It's one of the reasons he hasn't returned. Cowardly though it is.]

You will, eventually.

[ It's just one more block until they reach their destination, so she picks up her pace. ]

Most likely, yes. I can't recall much more than running. [ She shrugs. ] Ended up in the Dravanian Forelands and learned Au Ra have no relation to dragons. I do recall being angry about that.

What sort of civilian clothes are your preference?

[He thinks about how to answer for a moment. Normally, he might say that he has no preference. But he really does--he just doesn't want to be a bother.]

Loose shirts and vests. Tall boots. Leggings.

[He shrugs. Also he does not know what the modern legging has turned into.]

They need not be complicated. In fact, I would rather they not be.

[ Era nods, already considering what material would best suit his needs. ]

...And you'll need enough for a sennight, with changes of clothes for training, and a sturdy satchel to carry things.

[ She come to a stop outside the store front, opening the door for Estinien and allowing him to enter first. He'll be met with the sight of many eclectic styles of clothes interspersed with a variety of lovely sashes to suit the natives' fashion tastes. ]

[Well that escalated quickly.]

...you need not expend so much.

[A full sennight's worth of clothing? Training clothing? He can...manage, eventually...

He does head in because, really, he can't deny that wearing armor the whole time he's here is not going to work. But he certainly intends to talk her down.]

Oh, I assure you it is hardly any expense. He takes pride in his ability to cater to the clothing needs of me and mine, and you will come to appreciate the changes of clothes.

[ She gives a small, friendly wave to the shopkeep, who seems pleased to see her. It's taken her some time to adapt to the body language of the natives, but she can read it with little difficulty these days. ]

Hello, Tim. [ The tailor is expectant, looking between her and Estinien. ] This is Ishgard's Azure Dragoon, Estinien Wyrmblood.

[ Apparently that means something to the native, because he immediately takes out his tablet and gets ready to take the order. ]

He is in need of seven loose shirts, good for mobility, in shades of dark blues or off-whites. Four with sleeves like the ones I had you make the other month, and three with short. Five plain t-shirts in shades of blue or red.

Three vests of neutral tones and simple embroidery, ten briefs, five pants made for a secure fit and mobility; higher waisted. Make one of them jeans with a bit of stretch, three breeches to the ankle—at least one of a leather material, if you can manage—and no preference for the last pair.

[ She pulls out her water bottle from her satchel, taking a sip of water and studiously ignoring any of Estinien's reactions. He may think it too much, but she dreads the thought of his future attempts at laundry and hopes to limit how often he needs to deal with the machines.

Throat sufficiently re-hydrated, Era continues: ]

And could you pass an order for two pairs of knee-high boots to the cobbler?

[ Finally, she turns to look back at Estinien. ]

We'll need your measurements for the proper fit, if you'll allow it.

[Any protest he might have proffered is cut off by the ruthless efficiency by which Era starts running down what seems to him to be an extremely long list and he just shuts his mouth with an almost audible click, looking utterly steamrolled by this entire situation.]

By the Fury, is it a requirement for every woman in the Scions to be a force of bloody nature?

[Oh, he's turned from 'being absolutely boggled and confused by everything currently happening around him and dealing with it by listening and compartmentalizing' to 'swiving hells' mode. It took a while, but we have arrived.]

[ His comment brings her no small amount of reassurance, as she's felt nothing like herself these past months, let alone a Scion. Perhaps she is ill-suited to the life of other worlds, but she suits her own just fine.

Wryly, she asks: ]

How would anything get done if we weren't?

Now, may we take your measurements? It won't take but a moment.

[After a few moments he just sighs and shakes his head.]

Very well.

[Though, his armor is not exactly conducive to that process. A small man he is not, but the pauldrons and chest plate of his armor make him appear nearly half again as broad in the shoulder and chest as he actually is.

It'll have to come off.

This'll be a process.

His gauntlets come off first again, then the pauldrons and chest plate, mail sleeves, greaves, and boots, leaving him standing and looking sort of uncomfortable in the padded tunic and leather chausses of his under-armor layer, with his armor neatly placed on a nearby bench.]

[ Once relieved of his armour, the measuring does indeed take just a few moments, leaving him free to re-dress as he sees fit. The tailor lets them know he can have a few shirts and a pair of pants ready within the next half an hour, and the rest by the day after tomorrow. Era doesn't bother discussing a price—just uses her device to transfer the funds without question, trusting Timoteus to be fair (though even if he wasn't she wouldn't be particularly bothered). ]

Would you like to wait here for a change of clothes?

[He starts strapping his armor back on as he considers that question. To be fair, it would be inefficient to come back here, and he certainly can't sleep in his armor--at least not restfully.]

Might as well wait.

[Still, he keeps refastening the straps and buckles of his armor with practiced hands. He's also not going to carry it around, that would be equally inefficient.]

How long have you been with the Scions? Admittedly, I've not met them all, though I do not recall seeing you in the Rising Stones.

I've refreshments on hand should you need any water or snacks.

[ He can keep busy with his armour and Era will keep busy looking at any new fabrics that catch her eye, distracting herself with texture in the face of Estinien's question. ]

...Since before the massacre at the Waking Sands, though not by long. [ Some days she wishes she could forget that memory. The first home she had ever truly had, painted by blood, viscera, and bodies of those she considered her friends. But she can never forget that day. The strength Noraxia showed. The sacrifices her comrades made. The deaths that shaped the path she would take from then on. ]

You wouldn't have, as I am kept busy with missions afar. I may as well have been worlds away from your Rising Stones.

[He shakes his head, though the offer is kind. She's already doing so much for him, he doesn't feel as if it's proper to do more.]

...I'm sorry.

[For her loss? For reminding her of it? Both, most likely.

Something about the phrasing bothers him. "Your". Wouldn't it be hers? But it might just be an odd twist of the tongue.]

Hm.

[ She shrugs, unable to look at him. ]

It is what it is, and I am no stranger to loss any longer.

[That makes two of them. Estinien is studiously looking at his armor as he takes his time fastening it back on and resettling it, adjusting the ties and sleeves of his gambison, strapping on his leg armor over his boots, watching the shopkeep move around. Not knowing what to say.

So he says nothing. It's honestly a tossup as to which is more uncomfortable, the silence or the dark conversation, though he's leaning towards the latter.

After a time he pulls the communication device out of the pouch he'd put it in, and a small frown of concentration overtakes his face as he tries to find the information Era had said was there to find so he can at least occupy his fool mouth with relevant questions instead.]

[ Era allows the silence to linger for some time, viscerally aware of how it is not the comfortable stretches of quiet she grew accustomed to with the Estinien of her own world. This silence is weighty; unfamiliar. Discomfiting. A stark reminder that no matter how well she thinks she knows the man, he has no idea who she is or what she's done.

It's just as well, she supposes. Had he known her he would be disappointed in what she's become during her time in captivity.

She pulls away from the fabrics eventually, moving toward where Estinien sits with a purposeful stride. She seats herself on it beside him, leaving enough space for her tail to curl between them without touching. ]

[Or so she thinks. As first impressions go, Era has made an excellent one by being extremely competent and rather no-nonsense. As it is, he certainly would say he holds her in high regard, even knowing her for less than an hour.

He's frowning in concentration at the screen when Era approaches--the screen is rather small in his hands and the text equally so, and reading quickly is not exactly his strongest skill.]

...I do hope these gods and their followers do not frown upon my previous occupation.

[He definitely did understand the part about dragons being sacred.]

[ She busies herself with digging around in her bag for a snack, knowing she packed some pastry fish the day before. ]

They don't.

[ There is unwavering certainty in her voice as she answers, as this is something she knows as an absolute fact from her personal experience thus far.

Era succeeds in her search a moment later, pulling out a container of pastries. Popping open the lid, she holds it out in offer to Estinien. Despite their shape being called 'fish' only if one were truly generous, it's no hardship to identify them for what they are intended to be. ]

I also have some juice.

[Well, if anyone would know, it's certainly the actual slayer of Nidhogg and bearer of Hraesvelgr's eye.

Estinien blinks at the offer, caught a little off-guard with how distracted he was by reading. He certainly recognizes the shape of pastry fish - a little beaten up to be sure, but if it was in someone's pack it would be.]

Pastry fish?

[He does take one with a small smile, feeling a pang of homesickness as he does. It's a rare Ishgardian indeed that can resist those treats.]

[ She nods. ]

I am still learning to shape them well, but they taste as close to home as they can with the ingredients available here.

[ A pause, then— ]

They are a favourite of my father's. I would oft sneak him some on the opportunities I could visit. [ Era takes a pastry for herself, nibbling at what was probably meant to be a fin. ] ...I wish I could visit more. His home has grown much too quiet since the loss of my brother.

[He certainly appreciates the taste - it reminds him of the celebrations of his childhood.]

In Coerthas?

[He did notice that accent.]

[ She nods and takes another bite, tip of her tail tapping a rhythm that is not quite anxious, but neither is it calm. ]

Abalathia's Spine.

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