xistentiaooc | Test Drive Meme #5

Test Drive Meme #5

You wouldn’t wake; i couldn’t sleep for years.

CRASH LANDING

Exit one dimension, enter the next. It was chaos: pressure against your ears, light bending in an impossible, unimaginable way. The very molecules of your body vibrating against one another. If you have windows, the view outside makes no sense. Even if not, your hands, your face, your feet seem like an uncertain thing. It's the feel of reality itself tearing apart, reshaping, reconnecting, thread by thread.

And suddenly, there's a beach— or ocean, whichever you land in. Smoke. Fire. Salt water churning up, fizzing around.

Maybe you crash, in a ship wrecking into sand. Maybe you merely stumble out of a portal, a ragged wormhole in space. Or maybe you fall off the back of an incredible steed, some creature that carried you into this place. Either way, there's pandemonium around you. Incredibly, severe injuries are far and few between— nobody's screaming about the dead. But you might have to help pull someone free of wreckage, or move quickly to salvage burning belongings from the landing craft. Maybe it's the crafts themselves, that you're trying to salvage.

Likely, you don't know them, these other strangers who arrived here^[1]. Maybe you don't trust them— you just came out of a dying world, after all. But you all have one thing in common: you're here now.

When you get a second to breathe, maybe you'll see it. The brilliant green forest across the sand. Beyond that, the glint of a faraway city.

THE RAIN

Here comes the rain. Trickling down the rafters and tinkling down the trees, it starts as a drizzle and steadily increases to a downpour. Maybe it catches you by surprise, chasing you indoors or to share the umbrella of a friendly stranger. There's something oddly elaborate about the gutters of Xistentia's city-- it clearly carries the water toward the temple in the East, a storm system that causes the lamps to pulsate without threatening to shut down.

You'll notice too that you're prone to nostalgia which even infiltrate your dreams, memories sad or happy. This is easily a private experience, but you might find yourself wandering the city to get away from old ghosts or feeling invincible in the glow of memories. More oddly, whether or not you're an artist, you might be inspired to draw on the windows with your finger in the condensation.

Personal symbols, detailed illustrations, these inextricably lead back to the nostalgia. Whatever it is, it might pull someone to ask.

NETWORK

By now, the city of Xistentia has a population of over 400 people. Shops line the streets of downtown, and increasingly well-trodden paths will take you into the agricultural zones nearer to the forest or even down to the beach. There are still distinctive animal presences around— careful with that— but the most common critters you'll see are birds crapping on your stuff outside and tiny winged hairless people creeping your food.

One afternoon, you are taken from whatever you’re doing - taking a walk through the city, sunning yourself on the beach, running around in the forest shoring up defenses - by a message, appearing on your Daemon’s network screen. It’s a simple line of text, that reads:

PHOTO SENT

It would appear that your daemon accidentally sent a picture, perhaps one from your photo roll or instagram, or a random shot of you or your surroundings. Wait. Was that a public network post? Wait—

IMAGE CODE TEMPLATE

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

hells yeah

Footnotes

Some of these can be nameless, plot-device NPCs to facilitate interactions! But even in this case, please avoid gore in describing their current state of being. Anyone dead or catastrophically injured will have disappeared by the time your characters make it to Xistentia. There are no corpses or dying here.
But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I. Crash Landing
[His entrance into this strange new world is comparatively subdued - from his own perspective, the ground on the other side of the door Father Nighroad was chivvying him through gave way, and he was falling for what seemed like a very long time indeed.

If anyone happens to be watching, he appears in the sky as if he tripped through an invisible doorway up there - and drops unceremoniously into the ocean before he's even registered the change in his surroundings, because he isn't the kind of Methuselah who can fly.

He surfaces with a great deal of coughing and spluttering, and manages to drag himself to shore despite that. There's a long few minutes where he just stays on his hands and knees in the sand, coughing up seawater. Once he's expelled most of it from his lungs, he finally turns his attention to his surroundings.

He's on a beach, not in a city, and it's night where from his perspective it was day only moments ago (which is a lucky thing, actually, since his impromptu swim has washed off his UV protection gel). And there's no sign now of Father Nightroad, who was right behind him.]

Priest...? [The first attempt comes out as a croak, sp he tries again.] Priest! [But it turns out his throat is still so raw that trying to shout just sends him into another coughing fit.]

II. Rain
[Venturing out into it by day would mean not only careful application of the gel, which he can't afford to waste, but finding some way to keep the rain off entirely so that it wouldn't wash off. So, Ion saves his explorations for nighttime - it isn't a hindrance, this city he's found himself in never really seems to sleep.

So here he is, seated at a booth in Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe, waiting for his meal and doing some thinking. By now, the little white squirrel perched on his shoulder has explained what this place is and why he's here. What he's meant to do. It's... more than a little overwhelming, knowing the fate of his entire world rests on his shoulders alone.

He can't help but think that Father Nightroad would be far better suited to this mission than he is. And as his thoughts turn to the priest, he finds himself absently doodling in the condensation on the window - the end result is a cartoonish little caricature of Abel Nightroad.]

III. Network
text; daemon: abeld

Edited 2017-09-28 03:40 (UTC)

Holy fucking shit. It's like nympho vagina out there, man. [kavinsky blows out this exclamation, thumping his ass down on the seat across from the blond kid. it's a little intrusive, but that's never stopped him from doing anything before. in fact, he's been decidedly unpleasant about intruding in the lives of others, per historical precedent. in this case, context helps a little: he's soaked through, jeans and tanktop and sneakers, and he's certainly not the only person seeking shelter in the diner tonight.]

No offense. You and your girlfriend probably get down just fine. [he regards the blonde for a moment, and then cuts a glance toward the finger drawing on the window. abel nightroad has long hair, and joseph kavinsky is prone to idiotic stereotyping. he rakes his fingers through his hair, spraying a fine mist of droplets across the table.] What's up? I'm Kavinsky.

[The stranger's unexpected appearance puts him on edge to start with, shoulders stiffening as he draws them up and back - as far back as the booth will allow, anyway. Then the boy actually speaks.] Wha- [The last year or so aside, his life has been a fairly sheltered one. Sheltered enough that the phrase 'nympho vagina' never entered his lexicon, and heat creeps up his neck and into his cheeks from just hearing it.

Then, somehow, it gets worse. He jerks his hand away from the window as if the glass just bit him.] That is not my girlfriend-! [He doesn't have one, strictly speaking; however much he might like Esther, he's fairly certain she doesn't count-]

That is Father Abel Nightroad, of- [The squirrel daemon pipes up helpfully, snapping Ion neatly out of his thoughts and prompting him to cover her face with his hand. The interruption also gives him a few seconds to regain his composure and realize introductions are apparently in order.] ... Ion. [He returns.] I'm, ah... a new arrival.

Edited (i can never close my small tags ever >.>) 2017-09-29 16:32 (UTC)

[kavinsky's flapping his shirt under the table, sprinkling droplets across the top and against the post holding up the furniture below. presumably this is meant to kind of dry him off.] Ion? [he asks distractedly.] Ion.

That's a science word. Like when you mix two test tubes together and something other than 98% pure methamphetamine comes out. [he laughs at his own joke, because let's be real, he almost certainly watched breaking bad if it was available in his homeworld.] 'Abel Nightroad' on the other hand sounds like some fantasy era shit. You come from a weird world, son. And also, your daddy's pretty hot. ['father abel,' get it? get it? do you get it?

kavinsky definitely does not get it.] Gonna assume it's 'cause your world, anyway. Were you fucking him?

[ooc: wbsjvndjkva i didn't even think to mention this, which is my bad, but it's not pronounced how it's spelled - actual pronunciation is "ee-yon", for future reference. ^.^;;]

[It's the sort of thing he would have gotten a slap on the back of the hand for, growing up - but the months spent undercover as he traveled back to the Empire bred at least a little tolerance of things he finds uncomfortable and uncouth. So long as he doesn't get sprayed himself, he won't let it bother him.

The blather about science words and methamphetamines in response to his name is met with a blank stare - a weird world indeed, one in which Breaking Bad ceased to exist hundreds of years ago. Safe to say, he doesn't get it.]

Not my father. [He bites out, visibly flustered again. 'Daddies' in the kinky sense are also not in his lexicon, but he knows he doesn't like the way Kavinsky said that.] He's a priest.

[Then comes that question, and he chokes despite the fact that he wasn't drinking anything.] No!

Priests of the Vatican are required to take vows of celibacy. [Abeld supplies helpfully, and Ion rounds on it.] You-! Stop helping, damn it!

Edited 2017-10-13 00:57 (UTC)

Ohhhh, I see, [kavinsky nods his head very wisely, which is not that wisely at all, definitely like 80% just being a smartass underneath it all. (and not very far beneath the surface, as one imagines.)] I get it, baby. That's your thing. Denial of contact with a hot fantasy elf priest. I'm not gonna lie, I can get of get it. You have that pedo-bait thing going on--

[mind you, he can tell that ion can't entirely follow what he's saying. he's taking advantage of that, mostly, half out to torture him, and half just fucking around because it's funny. he thinks it's funny.] Catholicism has a lot of problems, but it's kind of cute how you two managed to figure it out, right? Like, it's probably fucking you up in your head, but at least he ain't reaching under your robes and shit like that.

You don't want the PTSD. [he stoops down to pat his dog on the head, and she looks at him with some exasperation. the truth is, she knows he's mostly just fucking with ion right now. ordinarily, he shows her little affection at all, distrusting the fact she's. a fucking. robot.]

[He may not know exactly what this boy means by many of the things he says, but he's more than capable of recognizing tone regardless. So he's aware he's being toyed with, talked down to, even if he doesn't quite understand the wording of the jibes.

He glares, and small and pretty though he is he's surprisingly capable of looking dangerous when he needs to.]

That is not [he snaps, fangs flashing in the yellowish diner light] 'my thing.'

[If anything, it's denial of contact with the incredibly attractive fantasy nun that does it for him, but that's nothing Kavinsky needs to know.]

Test Drive Meme #5

Ion Fortuna | Trinity Blood

rain; cw sexual vulgarity i am sorry for this turd lord

never apologize, i legit cackled when i read this tag

you're plus welcome

no subject

tw pedophilia

no subject