Test Drive Meme #5

[spoofer]

Test Drive Meme #5

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

INTRODUCTION ⇄ FAQ ⇄ APPLICATIONS

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
<center><img src="URL HERE"></center>

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

hells yeah

Footnotes

1. 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.
   
   
2. But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Comments

i.

[lacquers]

[ Well, hello there. More company from home, as it were? As he's passing, Magnus catches the tail end of that rumination over the milk carton and the statement following. He comes to a halt, raising his eyes as if to contemplate the movement of the storm.

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. ]

[verumdicit]

[ At least he's not a shadowhunter. Meliorn would prefer another Seelie, but he's never had a problem with Magnus--and Everyone knows who Magnus Bane is.

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.

[lacquers]

[ At least he's not a Shadowhunter indeed. While Magnus would go out of his way to vouch for any of the Shadowhunters present in Xistentia now, some even more than others, it'd be easy enough to say he's not fond of them on the whole. Certainly not the Clave.

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?