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xistentiaooc2017-09-23 06:03 pm
spoofer) wrote in xistentiaooc2017-09-23 06:03 pm
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:
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—
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.
meliorn | shadowhunters
[ Even a Seelie knight must venture into the city. Meliorn doesn't hate the crowds and the smell, no, but he certainly dislikes it. It's not just the city--it is this place. He feels different here, nature feels different here, the world feels different here. Not wrong, but unpleasant, like milk just about to go bad.
Or maybe he's projecting, he thinks, glancing down at the carton he'd picked up from the store behind him. Maybe he's just wary of actually drinking the small carton, for fear it tastes completely different than what he's used to. His nose wrinkles slightly, the fact that he's in the middle of the sidewalk seems not to bother him in the slightest.
Nor does the rain, when the sky opens up with a crack. Meliorn's gaze slides from the milk carton in his hand and to the ground, before he slowly moves his head upwards and closes his eyes. Water cleanses. He breathes out, before his brow furrows. ]
The rain is moving to the east.
ɪɪ. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ;
[ So his world has died. It takes a lot to fathom, and at the same time, quite little: worlds end. Things end. He is alive, and that is the best he can hope for. The situation is dire, but there is the faint hope that his Queen still lives. There is optimism in every breath: surely, there are others from his world here. It would be foolish to think otherwise.
Meliorn remains steadfastly hopeful, but he is no fool. Things must be addressed. The dying of his world, for example. There is no welcoming the future without mourning the past. And that is precisely what he is doing: he has found a small place in the woods, far from needless technology, far from noise, and has created a tent of sorts. Soft fabric is draped delicately, every placement precise. There are butterfly motifs everywhere.
A metaphor: change.
Meliorn, in the middle, sits with his feet drawn up and his eyes closed, still, quiet, listening. For what, it's unknown. This place is still noisy, still crowded, and stuffy, and unpleasant, and--
--and very slowly, Meliorn opens his eyes. ]
To the one that is outside: I can hear you.
[ A curious hiker, no doubt. Meliorn keeps his voice level. ]
III. ɴᴇᴛᴡᴏʀᴋ;
un: knightd
II;
I told you guys to be quieter, [ she whispersays but there's no shortage of affection in her tone. There are a few low canine grumbles in response complemented by matching whines. It's difficult to move stealthily with a pack of eight dogs in tow.
Rose hadn't actually meant to sneak up on the tent. This was the route that she ran with her pups often and there wasn't this abode last time they came through. For as unobservant as she can be, the woman thinks she would have noticed it. The canines are decidedly curious too, snuffling eagerly around the area with tails wagging. Rose herself goes around to the front of the structure now, an apologetic smile at the ready for Meliorn. ]
Sorry, dude, didn't mean to disturb your, uh. Camping trip?
no subject
Dogs, though--Meliorn smiles, currently level with the curious canines, and draws himself so he's sitting on his knees, a hand moving to invite, as well as have them smell him, if they so desire.
Being called dude is new, he has to admit. ]
Not quite. You aren't a bother at all. [ His voice is soft, smooth. ]
The city is far too noisy, don't you agree?
no subject
And it seems to suit this guy, in a way. She takes note of the shape of his ears, the blue in his hair. The butterfly motif. He looks to be in his element. Her dogs approve of him, too, so he's got to be alright. They're learning not to crowd (people don't seem to like that) but the Husky triplets especially still need to work on it. All three try to get their noses on him at once, nudging each other competitively for his attention. ]
It's alright! Actually quieter here than the place I was before. [ Eudio had been a city proper and before even that a lot of big cities were the ones to host concerts, so. ] Nothing beats a good nature run though. And these guys always have me getting out and away from the hustle and bustle of the city anyway.
ii
this time, though, he finds a tent. he doubts that's what he's looking for, but he's curious, and if someone's living out there, it might be unsafe for them to do so without the general knowledge of the rest of the population. vex likes to hunt, after all, and alec wouldn't want this person to be mistaken for game.
he approaches in what he believes is relative quiet when he hears a familiar voice. )
Meliorn? ( he steps within view of the interior of the tent, his bow on his shoulder and his quiver at his back. )
no subject
At least can differentiate the other from his kind. Most likely because he shares the same features as Izzy, but--well. All shadowhunters tend to look alike. There's a far more important question, though he tries not to show just how important it is to him: Meliorn rises from his spot, eyeing the other, and it's hard to tell if he's scrutinizing the other or merely suspicious. ]
Are there others, from our home?
no subject
Yes, ( he starts, not entirely liking the way meliorn is looking at him but deciding to ignore it for peace keeping's sake. seelies have odd ways, ways he's studied before and has gotten more familiar with, recently. ) Magnus, Jace and Clary.
( not izzy. unfortunately for both of them. )
i.
Is it a storm anymore? It's sort of transcended storm status. A storm is a thing that happens and then fades away after a day or two. Magnus hasn't lived anywhere with a monsoon season for awhile, but this feels like that. The season of rain. ]
East, is it? I wonder if we could persuade it to move a little faster. [ He's very obviously kidding and his expression says as much when he looks Meliorn's way. ]
no subject
His comment draws a smile, Meliorn's lips curling, pleased, and he glances back up at the sky once more, not bothered by how the rain comes down in sheets, drenching him. ]
I should wonder if you don't already somehow possess the ability to control the weather, Warlock.
no subject
He raises his brows, humming. ] Is someone spreading that rumor around again? [ he asks, just light enough that it's obvious he's kidding. But only barely.
It is a little funny, given he's obviously doing some kind of magic to keep his ensemble from getting similarly drenched. He might not be controlling the weather, but he sure is keeping it from putting a damper on his wardrobe choices. ]
Tell me, have you been here long?
iii; un: foundhiscenter