June-July 2024 Test Drive Meme

[folkie]

June-July 2024 TDM

Introduction

[ TDM Questions ★ Jump to Comments ★ Full Navigation ]
This Test Drive meme is open to all.
Welcome to Folkmore's monthly Test Drive Meme! Please feel free to test drive any and all characters regardless of your intent to apply or whether you have an invite or not.

All TDMs are game canon and work like "mini-events". For new players and characters, you can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Current players are also allowed to have in-game characters post to the TDM so long as they mark their top levels ‘Current Character.’

TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.

Playing and interacting with the TDMs will allow characters to immediately obtain canon items from homes especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.

Current players are always encouraged to tag new people on the TDM!


🦊 New Star Children meet the Fox still in their worlds, and she brings them into the new realm of Folkmore. As you follow her, your body begins to change and new characteristics emerge. These may stay for a while, or perhaps they will hide away after. And during all of this, the Fox explains to you where you will be going: to Folkmore.

and then... you fall like a shooting star, falling to the land in a burst of starlight.


🦊 Experienced Star Children are already familiar with this time of the month. There are shooting stars all across the sky, and some fall to the land, which means the Fox has brought new arrivals. These newly arrived Star Children will face some tests, but Thirteen wants the more seasoned residents to participate as well.

Perhaps you follow the falling stars on your own, or perhaps the Fox simply teleports you there, but it appears you too will be part of this.

[ Prompt One ★ Prompt Two]

Ghost Tours . ★

Content Warnings: Ghosts, Potential Violence, Potential Death

Summer has hit. It's hot, and nowhere is it hotter than Cruel Summer. Naturally, new Star Children arrive in Cruel Summer with no indication of which direction to go to escape, unless they're so lucky as to arrive near the Selkie River. The water provides a break, and a selkie skin will protect Star Children from the heat. Though beware the cruelty of leaving a selkie without their skin. Along with the heat, Star Children can hear whispers and the echoes of screams throughout Cruel Summer. There's no obvious source of the noises. Not the normal creatures. Not anything anyone can see.

Whether new or old Star Child, anyone lost, overheated, in need of a rest, or anything else will find a friendly spirit will find them in the sands, rock, or shores of Cruel Summer. They'll guide the way toward the huts found in Cruel Summer. These huts have changed; the huts are bigger and grow together, making them one interconnected twisting winding empty town. No one appears to live there. The wooden town is in disrepair, varying from building to building. Even so, they are cool inside, a welcome break from the summer heat.

No matter how one entered, even through the swinging doors to the saloon, that exit disappears behind Star Children. There's no turning back. The only way out is to explore the way through the buildings. This fact continues to be true building to building as exits continue to vanish. The abandoned town isn't as empty as it first seems. As Star Children explore the branching paths through the wooden structures, they see ghosts of spirits going through the paces of their lives. They're familiar to these spaces and interact with missing objects that sometimes shimmer in spirit energy.

Spirit Children may interrupt these routines to try to talk with the ghosts. Some ghostly spirits are friendly. They may interact with Star Children as though they're someone else, someone the spirits used to know. Others, like the bartender, may treat them like a new customer. Other ghosts are determined to stick to their routines and, should Star Children continue to interrupt, will attack those who disturb them.

These spirits may kill Star Children when they attack. Normal weapons won't hurt them. There are revolvers, shotguns, iron pokers, hunting knives, and other plain weapons around to grab in self-defense. Salt bullets and iron will dispel ghosts. These weapons may be grabbed at any time. However, doing so attracts the creatures in Cruel Summer. A blood red worm spitting yellow acid may break through the floor to eat or spray Star Children. An enormous coyote may leap through the window. Whether attracted by the use of weapons or passing by, any dangerous creature found in Cruel Summer seems agitated when they come near these structures and will attack them and anyone inside. They will focus especially on anyone with a stolen selkie skin.

Should Star Children die, whether to ghosts or creatures, they will not immediately return to life. Do not pass go. Instead they will haunt the ghost town for one week in the room where they were killed. Other Star Children may recognize them and work to snap them out of their routines. Yet nothing will free the Star Children's spirits before the week is through. At the end of the week, they'll come to, alive, in their bodies in the room they died in. Best get through and out of the ghost town before dying again!

A constant through these scenes are the spirits' spoons, visible somewhere in each scene. The ghost spoons are whole. Once free of the ghost town, Star Children may choose to travel to the Shattered Spoon Shrine in Never Fade to search for the broken fragments of any of these spoons. They are in such small pieces, however, that no Star Child may feed them enough Lore alone to bring the spirit back. Two or more Star Children may spend time in the Shrine creating and feeding Lore toward the spoons to heal them. It just may be enough to bring someone back.

• Whispers, echoes of screams, etc become common throughout Cruel Summer
• Huts become bigger, interconnected, growing together. Anyone lost, overheated, in need of something in Cruel Summer gets a friendly spirit redirecting them to these buildings
• Buildings will still be in some state of disrepair, but like a whole twisting winding town
• Insides are a cool respite supernatural ghost spirit air conditioning
• Only way out is through, no turning back, as the exits disappear behind you
• Many are friendly, but some are not. One can attempt to talk to them, but how interactive they are varies
• Occasionally other creatures from Cruel Summer may burst in and attack
• If a Star Child dies, rather than return to life immediately, they stay a ghost for about a week, part of the tour

Flames to Embers . ★

Content Warnings: Fire, Coerced Confessions

Fire! Fire across the realm! For the second half of June, wildfire burns everywhere. While it doesn’t hurt Star Children, it can reduce everything else to ash: homes, businesses, gardens, spirits. The local spirits will be in a panic and beg Star Children for help from small ice mice in Wintermute to fennec foxes in Cruel Summer. How can Star Children help? Confessions. Anything the person they are with doesn’t know. The more earnest and meaningful the better.

When wildfire erupts and spreads, Star Children may stand in or in front of an area they want to protect and confess something to another Star Child who happens to be nearby. Their neighbor? Their partner? A stranger lost in a new land? These confessions simply need to be something the other person doesn’t know to protect structures and spirits. Memories related to the confession will show in the fire. The fire will fuel these memories until they run out of energy, dying down to embers. At least in that place at that time.

Should something start to burn before someone confesses, multiple confessions are necessary to catch the wildfire’s attention and distract it from the fuel source it is feeding on. Two or more Star Children will need to make confessions whose memories are shared in the flames. Water powers can also help quell the flames, but confessions are necessary in the end.

Once July hits, the wildfires are mostly gone, only sparking up here and there on occasion. In their stead are embers. They spark in the air like fireflies and fly around Folkmore, attracted to Star Children. These embers land on Star Children and make them glow. There’s no pain. In fact, the embers provide sparks of insight into memories, situations, and other emotional dilemmas that Star Children haven’t previously understood. Talking the issue over with another Star Children provides further emotional clarity.

Spirits are welcoming to both embers and Star Children. Confessions help Folkmore grow as well. Gardens bloom in beautiful displays. Crops grow healthy and joyful. It’s even possible to hear humming from some of the vegetables and fruits. The land grows with the Star Children. Anyone who lacks a green thumb can work their way around that with confessions! Save that dying plant and grow those tomatoes.

One time that a Star Child confesses, either to wildfire or to embers, they will find a jeweled box shaped like a flame. The peak of the flame comes off to reveal the insides. Within, there is an item from home. It may even be a weapon or magical item. Larger more meaningful confessions are more likely to receive weapons. These items may even be larger than should fit in the box or its entrance. Whether the box should only hold a single ring or fill the palm of one’s hand, these items fit. Star Children also can keep the jeweled box, and this one item from home can be stored within the box. Other items too large to fit the box will not enter it. Only the one from the box.

• Last two weeks of June, wildfire burns across Folkmore. After that, they are rare.
• Confessions can protect or rescue buildings, land areas, and spirits.
• Come July, embers spark across Folkmore like fireflies. They provide insight for Star Children. Talking helps.
• Confessions help the land grow.
• Confessions reveal a jeweled box containing an item from home.

Comments

Bruce Wayne | DCEU | Myth | current character, all OTA, cw: fire, coerced confessions

[batusername]

FLAMES TO EMBERS
no mask

[He hears the fire, first.

There's a particular way a conflagration sounds -- a big, consuming inferno, exploding outward, sucking all the oxygen out of the air. Bruce has heard it enough times to know.

He's never going to forget.

So, his bag is left on the counter of the convenience store in Epiphany, and he's outside in a blink, staring in wide-eyed horror as the wildfire roars down the street. It's obviously not natural, not normal -- but his first instinct is to take a strong metal bar, left from some building work nearby, and start swinging at a fire hydrant. He doesn't have the tools to open its outlet properly, but water, any water, is going to help stop this, and when Bruce takes that swing at the hydrant, it dents.

A few more swings, and Bruce could probably break it open.

A mouse-person, barely waist-height, comes up to him, waving her hands in protest and crying:

"No, no! You have to confess! Confess something to make it stop!"

And Bruce stops, looks at her, even as the fire rages, grows. Realization dawns, and then, it's replaced with hot anger.]

You've got to be kidding me.

["Please! Please, quick, there's no other way to stop it, we're in danger--"

And that's when the fire reaches a building on the corner, and flames start to lick up the sides. There are screams.]

Son of a bitch --

[The little mouse has a bandana around her neck; it'll do to keep the smoke out.]

Let me borrow this.

[And, tying it around his nose and mouth, pipe in hand, Bruce is running directly into that burning building, like an absolute lunatic.]

mask

[It didn't take him long to figure out the fire doesn't hurt Star Children. The spirits, though, are in actual danger, and what they've made here, what they've built, how they make their living, is burning.

He's furious, honestly. To Bruce, this feels like escalation: the threats at the bonfire didn't work, so now Thirteen is holding her own people hostage to make her captives give her what she's looking for.

So. Fine. He'll do what he can to mitigate the situation.

A guy in a hat and identity-masking goggles, with a gray cloth tied over his nose and mouth to protect against the smoke, steps unharmed out of a burning treehouse in Leshy, or a house-above-a-salon in Luan Street. What's in his arms varies: most often it's spirits who were trapped inside, kids or older ones who didn't make it out before the walls caught fire. Sometimes it's pets, or belongings -- family treasures he's been asked to go in for.

Catch him holding a sentient kitten in kids' clothes, or just an ordinary dog, or an urn or photo-album, and handing them to the spirits waiting outside.

If he spots another Star Child, though, he'll round on them in an instant -- and when he talks, his voice is distorted, deepened mechanically -- impossible to recognize as Bruce Wayne.]

Don't just stand there. Secrets put it out. It'll take two of us. What've you got?

wildcard

[You know the drill! If you want something that's not here, hit me up and we'll work it out.]

[ooc: friendly/established CR has a real good chance of getting a serious confession out of him! Strangers will get something shallower/meant to be harder to understand without context, but he's talking, finally! People with super-senses (looking at you, Daredevil and Supes) are welcome to put together that it's Bruce in the Gray Ghost costume, but I'd prefer anyone else hit me up before nailing his identity for sure, since even his myth traits (horns and tail) are shrunk and hidden while he's doing this.]

mask

[backwaterbelle]

[She's really not one to judge someone by their chosen vigilante uniform, but this one's definitely interesting. Reminds her of the old timey movies with detectives.

Like him, she's both come to help and her temper's flared, but unlike him, she's in street clothes. Skinny jeans tucked into boots, long sleeves, and gloves with her hair up in a messy bun that the wind has taken some sort of offense to with how many pieces have escaped their ties. A balaclava is pulled up over her nose and mouth to protect her against breathing the smoke and sparks.

She's just rescued and released a spirit when he rounds on her. It's the modulator that earns the eyebrow lift from the mutant as she floats a foot or so off the ground still, but it's the aggression that ignites her sass.]

You're bein' real rude sugah. [A beat as she frowns.] Wait... That ain't a secret.

[Say 'Please' Darkwing Duck. Or start with one himself.

He may notice that she's still keeping her attentions split onto the fire, in case there's a cry for aid that'll take priority.]

[batusername]

[His expression's fully hidden behind the scarf and goggles, but his body language, the set of his shoulders, is stiff in a way that signals deadpan annoyance. There's the slightest incline of his head toward the fire -- though it's true that, for the moment, no one's screaming, either in the fire or outside of it.]

Time and a place for politeness.

If you won't go, I will.

[She's got height on him, floating like that, but it's far from the first time he's seen someone fly. His eyes are steady on her behind the goggles, his jaw set.]

[backwaterbelle]

Raised in a barn. Got it.

[She's happy to let him go first, if only to be a little difficult. That and she want's to make certain it's a reciprocal effort, which given his very intentional efforts to hide his identity, Rogue has doubts that they'll happen.

Though she does note the flying doesn't throw him.]

Gentlemen first.

mask/lil bit wildcard

[eggplanting]

[There aren't enough words in the several languages that Steph speaks to describe how much she hates this. The whole situation has her furious, because she knows Thirteen is likely powerful enough to put a stop to this if she wanted, and Steph can't help but wonder why she won't. Are their secrets that important? Or is it just a power play.

It doesn't matter, not right now, when the priority needs to be helping people.

The fire can't hurt her, but she breaks out the suit regardless; smoke inhalation isn't pleasant and she has the mouthpiece to fit over her cowl, and the fireproof cape has been useful more than once to wrap up a spirit to carry them to safety.

She does her best to avoid people she knows, for the sake of her secret, until she spots fucking Grey Ghost amongst the flames. Steph drops down from a nearby treehouse with one of the aforementioned spirits held against her chest, covered by her cape. She sets it down amongst the grass.]

Go, we'll be alright.

[As soon as it runs off, she turns to Bruce.]

I have a daughter. She's not really... mine anymore, but I had a baby.

[Memories flicker across the fire.

The sight of doctors above her and a boy far too young to be a nurse peering down at her, the top of his Robin collar peeking out from the top of the scrubs.

The same boy, this time masked, sitting with her in a hospital room, the Gotham skyline in the background.

Batman, sitting at a different bedside several years later, in the backroom of Leslie's clinic, reaching out for her hand as she struggles to keep her eyes open. He made a promise to look after her daughter. She knows he kept it.]

cw impalement/really serious injury

[batusername]

[As soon as they're alone -- and he's listening to what's around them, aware of what's there and what isn't, and unless someone's cheating with goddamn magic, they are alone -- Bruce switches the voice modulator off. He listens as she talks about -- god, whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that, and behind the goggles, he blinks. His shoulders, more than anything else, are the tells for what he's feeling. Sympathy pulls at him, grief -- and on top of it, this isn't how she'd have chosen to tell him, she's telling him under duress, buying the end of the fires with her own emotional pain, and Christ he's got no idea what's appropriate to say to someone, in a situation like that, when you sort of know each other, but barely, not really.

The thing to do is probably, as usual, what has to be done. Accept what she has to say, and...make his own offering.]

In my world, [he says, hoarse even without the modulator,] Superman is dead, and it's because of me.

[The flames show Luthor's doomsday abomination, lightning forking out of it, big enough to crush buildings, Diana and Bruce flitting around it like flies, until -- Bruce fires a gas-releasing shell at the monster, and in its wake, Superman flies in, holding a spear that glows a sick green. The spear pierces the monster, and the monster pierces Superman back, impaling him through the chest on a wide, wide spine. Superman drags himself closer on the spine, and drives the spear further in -- and it's enough. The creature flags, collapses, dies.]

I made those weapons -- to kill him. I tried to.

[The image in the flames rewinds -- Superman is pulled off the spine, flies back, flies away -- and the spear is in the cracked floor of an old marble building instead. Bruce, in a Batsuit that's bulky, armored, clearly made for a specific purpose, picks the spear up and advances on Superman, lying looking ill on his back in indoor rubble from broken columns. Batman steps on his neck, saying something -- drags the spear over Superman's cheek, and it cuts the skin, leaving a livid red line.]

Nearly succeeded. If I hadn't -- if I'd figured it out sooner, then -- we'd have been prepared for Luthor's monster. He wouldn't have had to make that play. Now, he's gone, and it's my fault. The whole world's grieving, and they don't even know. It kills me, every time -- every time I have to pretend it wasn't because I -- I took him away from them.

[Memorials -- large and small. A stone S, in a park in Metropolis, heaped with flowers and candles -- and a quiet graveyard, surrounded by Smallville's cornfields, Bruce and Diana hanging back, present but apart.

The flames are visibly shrinking: the amount of energy they're expending making these images is significant.]

They also don't know what's coming because of it. With him gone, there's aliens heading our way -- an invasion. It's all I can do, to...try to contain the mess. I don't know if it'll be enough.

[The last little bit of flames shows a computer -- files on Aquaman, Cyborg, Flash. It's working -- just a bit more.]

Obviously, I'm going to try anyway. But how the hell do I expect them to listen to anything I have to say about saving the world, when all I've done is put it in danger?

he fuckin' dead

[eggplanting]

[The last thing that she wants is his sympathy; this wound is an old one, the scar well healed enough that she can talk about it without flinching. It helps that she holds no regrets, it isn't like the gang war, it isn't like half the other confessions she could make, because she knows she made the right choice just this once.

But a secret is a secret, and she had hoped it would hold enough emotional weight to douse this particular set of flames, only for disappointment to sink into her own shoulders when the fire only lessens, not disappears.

And then Bruce starts speaking, and she forgets all about her own concerns.

It isn't only the words she's paying attention to; Steph watches the images displayed in the fire with a sharp gaze, noting all the details it reveals. Doomsday, Superman, Wonder Woman. Luthor, likely playing around with Kryptonian DNA, making this monster instead of Superboy. The weaponry and suit clearly designed to fight a Kryptonian and something unpleasant twists in her chest, thinking of Kara.

She can't imagine how difficult this is for Bruce, to admit to such a catastrophic failure of both judgement and action, mistakes that lead to an innocent man dying. Guilt has always been the heaviest cape around Bruce's shoulders, and this must be crushing him.

That fact is what keeps her from being unkind in this moment, as much as she wants to shake him and tell him how much of an idiot he is. She even manages to keep it out of her expression when she finally turns to him as the last of the fire sputters out, schooling her face into sympathy.]

If we remember anything from this place, you need to remember this: it's really, really hard to kill a Kryptonian, and you need to figure out how to get his body into the sun.

Mask

[ferrokinetically]

[ The closest Lorna's ever gotten to wearing a vigilante 'uniform' came in the form of a headpiece she'd crafted back home. Maybe even in the black hair dye she'd worn in attempts to blend in. Here she's never seen a reason for either. So, it's definitely a strange sight to see a man dressed in a way that made him seem like he's trying very hard to hide

That's the thing she actually loves about this place: not needing to hide. She can't even being to imagine why anyone would bother here. Not least of all because she's certain Thirteen would find it funny to reveal identities eventually. Which is one thing she despises about this place: feeling like they're all at the mercy of the whims of a being that really loved to mess with them.

Look Lorna's super convinced that damn Fox covets their secrets and their hidden thoughts and desires. Call her paranoid (she wouldn't argue).

So she gives a pause when he makes his demands and lifts an eyebrow as she looks him over. The fire on Luan Street is spreading too fast for her to bother commenting on it. She waves a glowing green hand at a nearby fire hydrant causing water to rush out towards the flames to buy the spirits a little bit more time to flee. ]

Shouldn't the one giving orders go first?

[batusername]

Fine.

[It doesn't truly make a difference. Once the flames hit buildings, it takes more than one person's confessions to stop them -- trials have proven it.

Bruce can confess anything personal here: he just needs to avoid talking about anything that mentions Batman, and anything recent enough that he looks the same.]

I'm afraid of bats. They scare the shit out of me if they get too close. I still see them in my nightmares.

[The fire creates an image that starts to make the flames ebb: a boy falling through an open shaft in the ground, landing hard in an underground cave, and disturbing a cloud of bats that fly right for him. It's clearly the nightmare in question, because as the bats swarm the boy, his feet start to leave the ground, like they're a UFO and he's being abducted.]

It's good, but it's not enough. When the fire hits buildings, it takes more to put it out.

[Bruce doesn't want magic powers, especially not from one of the schools here. He doesn't want to have to rely on something that could be taken away. But he's got to admit, people with powers are useful to have around. The water isn't putting the fire out, but it's helping.]

[ferrokinetically]

Fair enough.

[ there's a hint of sympathy that crosses her face as she watches the image play out in the fire. Couldn't have been easy for a kid to go through. If they hadn't been in the situation they were in she might have said so. It asked how he'd ended up falling through a shaft like that. But it wasn't the time. ]

She'll use that against you eventually.

[ The Fox uses everything against them eventually. She makes no attempt to hide her disdain for that. Or for the Fox herself. Her turn though. She's not really sure what to say. Nothing too personal in front of a stranger, but she's been here long enough to know it probably has to be at least somewhat meaningful. ]

I used to resent my aunt because she made me dye my hair and hide my powers. I'd sneak out to practice with them partially just to spite her and the world. It got me into a lot of trouble.

[ the image flares of a teenager with darker hair than Lorna's off on her own in a field levitating in the air. It flickers to another few images of the same girl ripping doors off of cars. Including a police car. ]

No Mask

[shabby_magic]

Woah, woah, hold on there, mate!

[ John grabs the guy before he can fully make it inside the house. It's harder to stop the suit than he thought it would be. Hells, the man practically a solid wall of muscle. ]

Pretty sure you should wet that bandana first but if you're determined to roast yourself like a chestnut let me give you a little extra protection.

[ Does he have any idea if this is going to work? Nope. John's magic has been somewhat unpredictable since he arrived in this miserable reality. It seems like any time he helps someone it works but helping himself? No.

He chants a few words in Enonchian and traces golden-red glowing symbols in the air in front of the man. When the invocation of protection is finished he slams his hand and the magic itself into the man's chest. ]

There. You're set. That will keep the sparks from catching and the smoke from your lungs. [ If the spell works. John's not admitting the whole magic is unreliable thing to a stranger. ] Though the spirit's right. Only way you're doing anything to put out this magic is a confession.

[batusername]

[....okay. Bruce is a skeptic, not an idiot, and the appearance of the glyphs in a context where magic is possible suggests this isn't just stage tricks or a placebo effect.

He doesn't fight the magic, or call it bullshit, or a waste of time. But, as soon as it's done, he's turning to move back towards the building.]

Then start thinking of what you want to say.

[And with that, he's off -- Bruce doesn't trust the magic fully, he's going to take care, and at the nearest sink inside he throws a handful of water onto his face to get the bandana damp, but as he works his way through the building, calling:]

Where are you? I'm here to help. Don't touch any doors -- shout if you can hear me!

[...he notices that the fire doesn't feel all that hot.

Damn. Whatever that guy outside who looked like he'd just pulled two all-nighters did, it seems to have worked.

Unusually convenient.

He finds the little family of flower people huddling in their kitchen, the wallpaper peeling in a way that brings back really, really painful personal memories. Bruce pushes past them, and offers his hand, staying calm to cut through their panic. Getting down the stairs is harder -- they're losing their structural integrity, and Bruce has to hold the last one and jump down to the bottom floor, but he makes it, they make it, and he ushers the singed plants out the door.]

That all of you? There's no one else?

[They nod their top-heavy, petaled heads, rubbing their leaves against their faces in anxious, tearful relief. One of them has a leaf half-burned-off -- it's showing its spouse, or its sibling, or its roommate in shocked horror, because this? This doesn't usually happen. Folkmore is usually safe for them.]

You're going to be all right, [he says to the spirits, pulling the bandana down to free his nose and mouth.] I'll do it. Don't worry.

[Bruce looks around for that guy from before -- is he still here? If they're going to stop the fire properly, he could use someone to spill his guts to.]

[shabby_magic]

[ Aw, bloody hell. Kids.

When the first elemental child comes running out of the flames John knowns he's fucked. He would happily let the whole place burn but there's this little elemental child who looks so lost and has little burns on them and well, John's fucked. ]

Hey now, it's alright luv. [ He crouches down in front of the little one and summons a touch of magic to put out the little embers and clear the ash from them. ] Don't worry, we're going to make it right for you. You just have to be brave for your family, yeah? Chin up. Take them a safe distance. I've got magic and this man has guts. Between the two of us, we'll put this out.

[ He gives the elemental a little nudge towards the family and then makes a shooing gesture to have them go away.

It just had to be fucking kids. It's like the ruling spirit knew just where to press to give John to give a damn. ]

Well, I can think of one confession that'll put this whole blaze out in a single go. [ He still takes a moment to light a new cigarette on the burning house. He's not doing this without a smoke to ease the ache in his chest. ]

I killed my mum in childbirth.

[ Ah, there's the woosh of fire losing oxygen. John glares at the flames that are dying so fast it's like they have no oxygen at all.

He blows out a stream of smoke. ] There you go. All taken care of.

Wildcard the Mask

[sine_metu]

[ It's moments like these where Matt struggles the most with his secret. The house is on fire. He can feel the heat. The spirits are begging for help. He can hear the voices inside screaming. A blind man wouldn't run into a burning building though. A blind man couldn't.

His senses could though. Matt could navigate the fire and the flames without any trouble. If he had his Daredevil costume he could hide who he is and help people but Matt was trying to be good and not ask for it. He didn't think he'd need it.

It's a familiar heartbeat that makes Matt move. Somewhere in the flames is Bruce. He knows that heartbeat. He knew that playboy billionaire stuff was an act.

Matt moves to the doorway, the heat so intense it feels like it's burning his skin. ]

Can you hear me?! [ He shouts, trying to be heard over the crackle and pop of the flames. ] I can't come to you but come to me and we can put this out!

[ Matt's Catholic. Confessions are easy. ]

[batusername]

[Oh, great. It's Murdock. The last thing Bruce wants is to be recognized in a moment of uncharacteristic selfless action by someone he's been trying to convince to believe there's nothing else to him. And a lawyer on top of that.

But Bruce has the voice changer on; he won't sound like himself. As long as he doesn't talk about anything Matt can tie to Bruce Wayne, it'll probably be fine. Bruce smells like smoke instead of shark aquarium this time anyway.

His voice comes out of the burning house different; deeper, mechanical.]

I hear you. Someone's still trapped.

[While he could go out and try to stop the whole blaze at once, it takes time to admit personal secrets, time that someone caught in the blaze might not have. Bruce's approach is to get the victims out first, then stop the fire.

He finds the last spirit, a snail, shut in a closet and shaking, and ends up having to carry them out. He steps out the door, unharmed and smelling of smoke, cradling a snail shell bigger than a beach ball in both arms, and addresses Matt like a stranger.]

That's all of them. Let's get it put out.

[sine_metu]

[ Without Stick's training Matt would have absolutely blurted out Bruce's name. It's his heartbeat and the voice is change to something robotic. He 'look' a little different in Matt's radar sense but no, no, he knows that heartbeat. That's Bruce Wayne hiding himself.

Matt knows where they are in the house. He could shout directions following the panicked heartbeat and Bruce's faster but more steady one. He's not scared navigating the burning house. No panic. No fear. The man moves with purpose and determination. What does this billionaire do in his free time?

He almost reaches to take the spirit when Bruce brings them out but instead stumbles back like he's surprised the man is there. He's not supposed to see it coming, after all. ]

Oh, uh, sure. [ He feels like Bruce should go first because Bruce apparently has a lot more to confess than he's let on. ]

We lost a very important case at my law firm because I couldn't stop spending time with my ex. I should feel more guilty about it but... I don't really. I wanted that time with her and it turned out to be the last time I would see her.

[ Getting buried alive with Elektra didn't count because it was brief. Helping her and leaving Foggy to struggle mostly alone was a jackass move but... but it was Elektra and he rarely makes good choices around her. ]

Is that helping?

wildcard confessions - mask or no mask, dealer's choice

[getscooperation]

[ Natasha is walking on the streets of Epiphany - quickly. She’s not sure if it’s better or worse to avoid highly populated civilian areas, because the fires seem to come regardless, but her destination is through this street and… fuck. One of the apartment buildings bursts into flames.

An apartment building. How many women and children are in there, and how many would she be able to get out in time? Not enough. She’s worked out a system so far, working out a way to say just enough to bring a fire down halfway and leave the opposite person plenty of time say something of equal weight. That’s not going to work here, not if she wants this fire to go down quickly. And goddamn it, she does.

There are things that she’s swallowed back each time, confessions of parts of her life that have been weighing on her. She knows that they’ll leave her vulnerable, she knows that these are things that are not safely processed and compartmentalized, and she knows they will put the goddamned fire out if she shares one. (It’s harder once the buildings catch; there might be a chance that there will still be some embers will remain for whoever the unlucky person is she can grab hold of first.) ]

I pushed the man I thought I loved off a cliff, [ blunt, raw, and secret. She’d not told anyone this and Bruce had disappeared into space for years after, so she doesn’t know if anyone knows. ]

[ Immediately, the embers reflect this memory - a kiss and then a shove. Bruce Banner's face of shocked betrayal, but not fear, as he falls backwards. What comes back up is monstrous, the size of a Mack truck, and looks at her as if he's trying to understand what just happened. ]

I don’t know if I truly loved him, but it was the closest I ever got. I meant everything that I told him.

[ The embers reflect images of Bruce's face, earnest and seeking, shy and sincere and passionate in various different conversations as he tries to figure out if Natasha is sincere in her flirtations. ]

He was unique and gentle and brilliant. He genuinely wanted to help everyone he met. But he was also so dangerous. [ The Hulk, as he first transformed, something she'd been an eye-witness to. The building, collapsing around his rage; catching a missile and throwing it back, tearing through helicopters and disappearing to rampage through more buildings. As horrifying as that is, what's worse is the scene in the SHIELD helicarrier where the embers reflect Bruce slowly transforming, glaring at her the whole time, before the Hulk decided to take it personally that she'd been the one to bring him into the situation. The embers reflect the Hulk's brutal chase as Natasha runs. ] He wasn’t in control when that side came out. And he could do incredible damage. Innocent people could get hurt.

[ There is a quick ember montage of exactly that happening, of innocent people being at risk because of the Hulk, and then a scene in the forest - her bare hand in her line of sight as she approaches the Hulk, and his giant green one coming to rest against it as he calms and melts and transforms back into Bruce Banner. (And the goddamned fire is still only half out. Natasha continues, speaking quickly.) ]

I don’t know what drew me closer to him first, if it was because I wanted leverage or if it was because I wanted to help him, but I did, and it worked, and I got close, and I cared for him, and in the end I did exactly what I was trained to do — I used him. I took his choice away. I don’t blame him for not forgiving me.

[ But she does blame him for not trying to finish the job.

The embers reflect a different story now. How he shot the door to open the prison she'd been kept in, an earnest and unheard conversation that looked like he was trying to lead her away from the fight. They reflect the drill, and the city of Sokovia rising, and countless numbers of Ultrons, swarming. They zoom in on the Ultron who'd casually discussed the 'purity of a meteor' with her, focus on the fight that had taken all of them to defend the drill– The fact that it is brutal, that they nearly lost, that everyone had been needed for it is very, very clear, even if Natasha says none of this.

They needed the Hulk; they needed to win this fight. They were facing an extinction event. Did that excuse her for what she did? Of course not. But she can’t regret it either. ]

I’d do it again.

[ At that, the fire is finally down to a manageable level, only licking the edges of the first floor. The spirits inside should be safe, especially if the person next to her antes up. ]

(no mask!) cw violent ideation, building collapse disaster, implement, self-sacrifice

[batusername]

[He is going to break Thirteen with his bare hands, Bruce thinks, as he watches Natasha open her own wounds, put them on display, as a weight on a scale to prevent mass death. Not kill her, no, but if he can make her so small that nothing like this ever happens again -- Bruce is going to take the opportunity. Can't hold a gun with a broken arm. Can't force Natasha Romanoff to give a pound of flesh in personal history if you can't use your power.

As he hears it, Bruce realizes that he's misjudged, significantly, who she is and what matters to her. Natasha is still clever, certainly, calculating and sharp and ruthless, but the knife's not being wielded merely to protect her own interests.

His heart hammers as anger simmers -- not at her, at Thirteen. He shouldn't be hearing this. Seeing this. But if this is what they have to do, to save the people in there from burning up -- Natasha's right, there's no time to save them all any other way.

And he'll give in kind. He's been trying not to talk about anything that'll show images identifiable as Batman, but he's willing to gamble, after this, that if he can make Natasha understand how important it is that his identity stays secret, she'll keep it.]

I'm the reason Superman is dead.

[The fires, burning low now, still have enough substance to show a shadowy figure, dressed in rough power armor not nearly as sleek as Tony's, built to essentially be a crumple zone against unbelievable physical might, engaged in a brutal, ugly, messy fight. The figure in black is clearly outmatched, sent through walls by a sleeker, smaller man with no armor at all -- until a shell is sent at him that explodes into gas that has an immediate, incapacitating effect. The shadow in armor picks him up, throws him off a railing, down a stairwell shaft twenty stories. The impact can't be heard, but it can be imagined.]

I didn't trust him any more than Luthor did.

[A different scene: a city mid-battle, dust clouds everywhere. Bruce in civilian clothes, a phone held to his ear, shouting something into it as two grappling figures fly directly through the middle of a skyscraper. Bruce is running toward the building, but before he even gets close, lasers cut through steel and concrete like nothing, and the whole top half of the tower -- starts to slide. The panicked, frantic no! Bruce screams also can't be heard, but it's clear enough what he's saying.]

I made weapons that could kill him. Used them.

[Back to the darkened building, to the fight between the human in armor and the unshielded alien. Bruce has a booted foot on the alien's throat, and is holding a glowing spear to his face; he drags it over Superman's cheek, leaving a red, bloody mark on the being that had torn through a building without a scratch.]

Wasted time. Resources. Superman wouldn't have had to make the sacrifice play if we'd found Luthor sooner.

[Superman, visibly pained, struggling, is holding that same glowing spear, flying at a very ugly, spiny monster, the color of clay, giving off lightning in all directions. He impales it, but one of the spines goes through him.

He pulls himself further on the spike, to drive the spear in those last few critical inches.]

I was slow. Thought I had all the pieces when I didn't. Refused to listen to -- people who knew better. Now we're vulnerable.

[The fires are almost out, but not quite. It's a big blaze. Bruce shuts his eyes, sends up a helpless, secular, directionless sort of prayer, and says:]

I've worked alone for years. Wasn't always that way. But he -- we were good, together. United. It was the first time I'd considered taking on a partner since -- [he stops, there, not quite able to do it.] ...we could have stopped it, if we'd worked together from the start.

[What Bruce means is: he wants to work with Superman. Wanted to, just in time for the man to die. There's a flash in the flames of the two of them as a third figure, a woman in light armor, rushes forward -- a beat that's obviously banter. Bruce isn't looking -- his eyes are still shut.]

Please tell me that's done it.

Mask

[survivalthroughhate]

Very well then.

[Maul said impatiently. He knew what he had to do but that didn't mean he had to like it all that much, especially when it involved having to tell something to a complete stranger. This was far easier to do with people that he actually knew, even if they weren't close friends. He was scowling but his soft-spoken, melodic voice didn't waver when he made his confession.]

I mercy-killed one of my brothers. I had to do it, he was suffering, but it was the first death in a long time I'd actually felt bad about.

cw social media stalking, cyberstalking behavior

[batusername]

[...well, that tells Bruce a whole lot about this man in a real short time.

There's a beat of silence as the flames shrink, but don't disappear. Then, he offers his own admission.]

My last girlfriend left me a few years ago. She was right to. I wasn't my best at the time. She's doing great, and better off without me.

[In the fire, a computer-screen display appears -- a machine with a lot of processing power, running some kind of search. An image comes up, a short video, something taken deliberately and posted to social media: a woman, gracefully forty, with short dark hair and a sharp manicure at an open-air restaurant somewhere tropical, holding a glass of wine and laughing. A second image -- from a city surveillance camera, not deliberate, of her from behind, walking down a street. The image zooms out -- it pinpoints her location on a map of Earth, a globe made of glowing lines.]

I shouldn't check on her, but I do.

[Make something of it, his posture seems to say. He's not looking for sympathy, or justification -- this is an unhealthy habit, a creep move, he's well aware. There's nothing this guy can say, Bruce feels, that he hasn't already told himself, that hasn't been implied in what Alfred chooses to say and what's left in silence, and pushed aside to run a sweep anyway.]

No Mask

[a_normal_man]

[He's still not entirely sure what Batman does back home, but he does know Bruce is still a human with no powers, and fire is fire. That bandana isn't going to do much, if anything. So he reaches out from behind and grabs the other man by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.]

Bruce! It's not a normal fire.

[Did we mention that when the fires erupted, Clark initially changed into his suit, knowing it was fireproof? And that even when he learned that didn't matter, he hadn't bothered to change back? And that Bruce had never seen him in the suit before? Whoops.]

I received some water magic that will keep it at bay, but all the spirits are saying you have to confess something.

[batusername]

[He's stopped in his tracks by --

....for a second, Bruce freezes.

It's different. It's not the same in the details, not the same face or voice. (There's even shorts, made of ordinary terrestrial material if Bruce isn't mistaken, as though someone's mom had seen the alien suit and said you're not going out dressed like THAT.) It's different. Not the same. But seeing it again still stops Bruce in his tracks, makes his heart do an uncomfortable jackknife of impossible hope and twisting guilt.

It's just Clark, Bruce tells himself, a name that's starting to be associated more with the kid who just wants to not be so alone than -- than a face illuminated in sickly green light, a too-still body with a hole through it, a memorial piled waist-high with flowers and burned-out candles. Clark's alive and well. Clark's a friend. It's fine. Focus.]

Get the survivors to safety first, [he says, and though he doesn't have a voice modulator on, Bruce isn't bothering to disguise his tone behind casual billionaire disinterest and wandering inattention.] Once they're out, then we spill our guts.

[There's no telling how long it'll take for them to put the fire out, and like hell is Bruce leaving the spirit in there to burn while he and Clark stand around talking. He turns back to the building, apparently still fully prepared to go inside himself if Superman doesn't get with the program.]

You can help with that, right?

mask

[ourtomorrow]

[ Secrets put it out.....?

Ken's never seen this person before, but he's heard of stranger occurrences - and they can't let this fire get any worse. Would admitting something large affect it more...?

Only one way to learn. Nodding, he turns towards the flames, and proclaims, his head high: ]

I once tried to take over the world!

[ Definitely the sort of thing most college kids with lousy haircuts have lurking in their closet yeah. ]

[batusername]

Okay. Good start.

[The man in the identity-shielding goggles prompts the young man, when the flames don't immediately start illustrating the circumstances.]

And how did that make you feel?

mask

[unsheathedfromreality]

[Willow's enough like the Starwood once was that to witness it burning catches at something in Illarion's dead heart. He's been lurking its neighborhoods since shortly after the fires began--tireless as only the undead can be, stalking among its tree-lined ways day and night to intercept the flames before they can catch.

Before he needs more than an off-the-cuff admission to anything, anything at all, to turn them back; before he must become embroiled in someone else's secrets and they in his to quench the flames.

It is not that he would in any way abuse what he learns--but he knows his own predilections well, his hunger to know and observe that only battened on events in Trench that forced Sleepers' truths into the open. Once he begins down that path here, it will only be a matter of time until he's seeking out other Star Children to hear their confessions--distracted from the real need at hand (stop the fires) and vulnerable to handing away pieces of himself he'd rather not.

But: He's not fast enough to outspeed or outwit every fire before it takes something, and despite his crown of horns he's not heartless enough to let his failures burn. And leery as he is about giving or getting some kinds of secrets, he's not at all shy about using his other abilities to rescue spirits from the flames-- The array of magics at play in Folkmore are dizzying in their variety, and there's no reason anyone here should be able to guess how exactly he walks through walls as easily as the fires.

So it is he simply steps out through the wall of a smoldering burrow with a pair of shivering badger kits in his arms--and right into a demand he give confession, here, now, to put the flames out. He snaps his head toward the grating voice, eyes narrowed behind his veil, jaw set with a flicker of annoyance-- Then he sets his squirming burden down with deliberate patience before replying,]

Know that before we do, whatever is revealed to me is beneath the veil of secrecy. It does not go beyond my teeth except you are giving permission.

[There. Whoever-this-is is making the wise move, from the view of operational security; and Illarion recognizes that game well enough to defang it before it can further exasperate him.

He gives a sweeping lash of his tail to broom away his irritation, before turning back to the home he just left to address the fire:]

I have not forgiven my Prince for not letting us die with him. For all I love him still, it is worse, what he did--worse than letting us escort him down to Hell.

[The scene that blossoms in the flames is--hard, sickening, even, to look at, because it invites an eye used to three dimensions of space to consider a world with more.

In it, monsters war against monsters--great shadowy chitinous things that somehow, from some angles, are also elves of Illarion's ilk, pitted against a horde of undead. It isn't going well for the shadows; they are being overrun, pulled down, torn apart. The largest of them fights talons-to-sword against a human woman with death in her eyes and her smile, and death that rots the ground beneath her feet. It is holding its own against her--

Until it isn't, until it lifts its many arms and says a Word that freezes its beleaguered fellows in untouchable stasis--from whence they watch, helpless, as the dead-eyed woman strikes down their lord.

It's a small mercy Illarion can't see it play out. Not with his eyes, anyway.]

It was worse, [he repeats, softly.] To have watched.