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October-November 2024 Test Drive Meme
October-November 2024 Test Drive
Introduction
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.
🦊 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. 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.
Content Warnings: Natural Disaster/Natural Disaster Relief
It seems as if the Star Children will be restricted to Amrita Academy forever, when nothing changes at the one month mark. Yet, after another week has stretched endlessly past, a morning dawns to show that the moat of Lorasses has vanished. The way is clear to discover what the chaotic storms have left behind.
Most of Folkmore's resident spirits return. Good thing Catbus is among them because the train is not operating. Debris litters the tracks throughout the land. Someone's going to have to work to clean all of that up before normal schedules can resume... within the first week or so, everyone fervently hopes.
That is far from the only wreckage from those storms. As Star Children have seen, even Amrita Academy hasn't really been spared; between the Lorasses moat and the various structures built to weather the storms, the past weeks have left a mark on the school.
The rest of Willow shows signs of extreme growth and age, as if decades, not weeks, have passed. Epiphany and Tides suffer major flood damage, and Exile is entirely soggy and saturated with a sense of sorrow. Avalanche debris covers Wintermute, and the mountains aren't in the same place. Cruel Summer is even dryer, cracked, and in part of it littered with exploded, partially melted robot parts. Never Fade may be the best off; the ground has leveled off, and only the unsecured outdoor items have crashed around or dropped off the island. In general, all regions show signs of warping.
Talaria has been outright knocked down (once again) and will need to be rebuilt (once again). The contents of Talarian homes have been thriftily saved by Thirteen (yet again). They'll be back as soon as the homes are ready to be redecorated! There's also a new elevator connecting Tides to a platform in the ocean at surface level, making it a little bit easier to get in or out of the neighborhood. Fly, swim, or use a boat from Nereid marina to reach it.
Many of the buildings throughout Folkmore, businesses and residences alike, have been damaged, some past the point of habitability. For better or worse, some residences will wait unclaimed, as their resident spirits have not returned from wherever they went while gone from Folkmore. Newly arriving Star Children (or those interested in relocating) just might find those residences awfully appealing. As with all unoccupied homes in Folkmore, they're free real estate.
Each neighborhood has a new (and structurally-sound) building near its center: a hospitality station of sorts, stocked with basic foods (to suit a variety of dietary needs, relevant to the known local residents), clean water, personal protective equipment, basic tool kits, fresh clothing, and clean linens. For those ill equipped to cook for themselves for whatever reason, there's also a canteen/soup kitchen area. The canteen tends to collect idle spirits and Star Children who might be willing to assist with any cleanup tasks too big or too complex for one person to tackle on their own.
Working with the neighbors has an additional benefit, of course: sooner or later, whether while helping clear the train tracks or fixing up someone's home or business (including a Star Child's own), shifting the debris will reveal a weathered container of some sort, locked up tight, that will only fall open at a touch if and when the right Star Child finds it. There is only one chest per Star Child. Inside, is an item from home, either that of the resident whose house/business it's found in or the one keyed to the lock. It may even be a magical item or weapon.
There's some good news as well, in the midst of all the chaos: most Star Children will find that their homes are wholly unharmed; their pets, companions, Pokémon, etc. are all hale and hearty, having spent the entire time cozily asleep in their boxfoxes — which can be reused if kept, and just as easily abandoned now that they've released their occupants.
It seems as if the Star Children will be restricted to Amrita Academy forever, when nothing changes at the one month mark. Yet, after another week has stretched endlessly past, a morning dawns to show that the moat of Lorasses has vanished. The way is clear to discover what the chaotic storms have left behind.
Most of Folkmore's resident spirits return. Good thing Catbus is among them because the train is not operating. Debris litters the tracks throughout the land. Someone's going to have to work to clean all of that up before normal schedules can resume... within the first week or so, everyone fervently hopes.
That is far from the only wreckage from those storms. As Star Children have seen, even Amrita Academy hasn't really been spared; between the Lorasses moat and the various structures built to weather the storms, the past weeks have left a mark on the school.
Other regions show clear signs of the warping they have endured similarly.
- Wintermute alternated between blinding light and pitch blackness, with mountains growing and crumbling away alike. Cabins were transformed into igloos.
- Willow experienced all the seasons in a matter of days multiple times, growing crops and new trees, losing old ones, and its buildings weathered as though through decades.
- In Epiphany, the streets ran with water so high it was difficult to walk, and the buildings shifted to reflect related settings.
- Cruel Summer grew hotter and more oppressive, so that survival away from the Selkie River was impossible. On the 13th, there was an explosion, and it rained robot parts.
- Exile was swallowed entirely by the Swamp of Sorrows, leaving no dry land.
- Tides filled with water, dark deep water that could not readily be seen through.
- Never Fade became even more purple, with a thick haze that erased visibilty of borders. It also became steeper, so there was no flat ground.
The rest of Willow shows signs of extreme growth and age, as if decades, not weeks, have passed. Epiphany and Tides suffer major flood damage, and Exile is entirely soggy and saturated with a sense of sorrow. Avalanche debris covers Wintermute, and the mountains aren't in the same place. Cruel Summer is even dryer, cracked, and in part of it littered with exploded, partially melted robot parts. Never Fade may be the best off; the ground has leveled off, and only the unsecured outdoor items have crashed around or dropped off the island. In general, all regions show signs of warping.
Talaria has been outright knocked down (once again) and will need to be rebuilt (once again). The contents of Talarian homes have been thriftily saved by Thirteen (yet again). They'll be back as soon as the homes are ready to be redecorated! There's also a new elevator connecting Tides to a platform in the ocean at surface level, making it a little bit easier to get in or out of the neighborhood. Fly, swim, or use a boat from Nereid marina to reach it.
Many of the buildings throughout Folkmore, businesses and residences alike, have been damaged, some past the point of habitability. For better or worse, some residences will wait unclaimed, as their resident spirits have not returned from wherever they went while gone from Folkmore. Newly arriving Star Children (or those interested in relocating) just might find those residences awfully appealing. As with all unoccupied homes in Folkmore, they're free real estate.
Each neighborhood has a new (and structurally-sound) building near its center: a hospitality station of sorts, stocked with basic foods (to suit a variety of dietary needs, relevant to the known local residents), clean water, personal protective equipment, basic tool kits, fresh clothing, and clean linens. For those ill equipped to cook for themselves for whatever reason, there's also a canteen/soup kitchen area. The canteen tends to collect idle spirits and Star Children who might be willing to assist with any cleanup tasks too big or too complex for one person to tackle on their own.
Working with the neighbors has an additional benefit, of course: sooner or later, whether while helping clear the train tracks or fixing up someone's home or business (including a Star Child's own), shifting the debris will reveal a weathered container of some sort, locked up tight, that will only fall open at a touch if and when the right Star Child finds it. There is only one chest per Star Child. Inside, is an item from home, either that of the resident whose house/business it's found in or the one keyed to the lock. It may even be a magical item or weapon.
There's some good news as well, in the midst of all the chaos: most Star Children will find that their homes are wholly unharmed; their pets, companions, Pokémon, etc. are all hale and hearty, having spent the entire time cozily asleep in their boxfoxes — which can be reused if kept, and just as easily abandoned now that they've released their occupants.
- The moat is gone! Freeeeeedom!
- The train is not operating for one week until October 27th due to debris over the tracks.
- Every region of Folkmore shows scars from the past month's extreme disturbances. Things have not reverted to before.
- Most spirits have returned; some remain absent. Claim the free real estate, if quick or bold enough.
- Hospitality stations have appeared in each neighborhood stocked with food, water, clothing, and linens.
- The canteens serve as a social hub and place to ask for/volunteer assistance.
- One time only, cleaning up or moving debris will reveal a container holding an item from home: yours or the person's you're helping.
- Most Star Children's homes will be unharmed; any damage should match the region's damage flavor. The level of destruction is up to you.
- Creatures in boxfoxes are out, fine and dandy! Boxfoxes can be kept/used again.
Offshore near Agrona Academy, there's something new. Something bewildering, maybe. Something growing. There's also something swimming up to any Star Children near the coast: a very large sea turtle, not willing to come far ashore. She's singing and chirping to get attention, in case being big enough to have a six-foot-long shell isn't quite good enough for some reason. (Or the way she has a blue-green bioluminescent glow when underwater, as becomes quite visible around dusk.)
She's happy to explain that she needs a place to lay her eggs. She doesn't have eggs to lay, just yet, but she wants to have her place all ready anyway. To that end she's busily building a brand-new island not very far from shore. It's just over there, visible once she indicates it with a flipper, barely any higher than the waves cresting around it. Here's the sad part: while she's used a great deal of cleverness in building it, from rocks and sand and bits of broken reef, she's all out of construction materials that she can reach! So she needs help: more construction material for the island.
It seems she's got a very loose definition, though, so pretty much anything that can later be covered in sand or dirt is fair game. Lucky that she wants it now. There's a perfect place todump all that debris in the ocean recycle all the debris, anything not structurally sound enough for a repair-in-place job. Bigger is probably better, too. Work together with other Star Children to haul up the big stuff. It brings more and more joy to her songs as she finds the exact place for each and every item, making her island grow bigger and bigger.
Anyone who actively participates will be rewarded five (5) spoons by the turtle directly, as a thank you for helping her to keep her eggs safe. (If anyone asks, she'll explain that it's the number of limbs she has, so she thought it was perfect!) In addition, she gives each person a smooth and shiny sea rock that fits in their palm perfectly! If the island gets big enough to be more than a sandbar, anyone who helped with the construction will find it far more welcoming than those who didn't. She isn't expecting to use anything but the beach.
She's happy to explain that she needs a place to lay her eggs. She doesn't have eggs to lay, just yet, but she wants to have her place all ready anyway. To that end she's busily building a brand-new island not very far from shore. It's just over there, visible once she indicates it with a flipper, barely any higher than the waves cresting around it. Here's the sad part: while she's used a great deal of cleverness in building it, from rocks and sand and bits of broken reef, she's all out of construction materials that she can reach! So she needs help: more construction material for the island.
It seems she's got a very loose definition, though, so pretty much anything that can later be covered in sand or dirt is fair game. Lucky that she wants it now. There's a perfect place to
Anyone who actively participates will be rewarded five (5) spoons by the turtle directly, as a thank you for helping her to keep her eggs safe. (If anyone asks, she'll explain that it's the number of limbs she has, so she thought it was perfect!) In addition, she gives each person a smooth and shiny sea rock that fits in their palm perfectly! If the island gets big enough to be more than a sandbar, anyone who helped with the construction will find it far more welcoming than those who didn't. She isn't expecting to use anything but the beach.
- A large sea turtle—with a 6 foot in diameter shell and about 3 feet tall at the shoulder—starts building an island off Cruel Summer.
- She needs help getting more building supplies. Bring your debris, bigger the better, here!
- All Star Children who help will be rewarded five (5) spoons and a shiny and smooth rock from underwater that fits in their recipients' palms just so.
- Star Children who help find the island more welcoming than those who didn't.
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"Stella Truett, at your service." There's another smile, a little flip to it as she nods and ponders the sleeve situation for a moment, parsing out the easiest and best way to pin them back without risk of later pricking. Might take more pins than she has at the ready, but since Lore's a thing that's somewhat biddable again - will it give her more pins? Probably.
"If you find yourself slipping a little, might be I have somethin' for that, too." Familiar territory, another spate of old habits, the requisite amount of charms (and likely a small, stowaway spider) held in her bag for herself and for others. And her own Gift to nudge a pick me up in another's direction in a multitude of ways.
A gentle rollback of from the hem, a test of a fold here and there - already becoming less of a nuisance. She hums the tune that's refused to leave her head, a phrase slipping out in a perfectly serviceable voice as she works, "♪...and who but my lady greensleeves...♪"
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She may have failed to consider all the various points of adjustment that will come up in this place. She had adjusted, after just as little warning, to being Queen, but she was much younger than, and it had been quite an endeavour. Is she capable of making such an adjustment again now? Another item for the list of things Alicent does not currently want to think about.
Lucky she has been given other things to focus on, while her arms are slowly, essentially, freed. For such a short interaction, she is already endebted to Stella for multiple things. (That perhaps ought to bother her more than it does.) Alicent is curious about what she meant by having 'something for that,' but she asks a different question first, indulging other curiosity. "What song is that? I don't think I have heard it before.
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"It's no trouble at all, just a few pins and a song. An old one that's hundreds of years before my time, but it came to mind, and it's still fairly well known. It's called Greensleeves." A look of no shit, right?, because she'd sung that part already and the title should surprise precisely no one. She'd been told a King wrote it, later told that was possibly bullshit, but it doesn't matter much, because it had once been sung to her as her own sleeves were tied up in ribbons. She's careful not to prick herself as she thinks of this, and it's banished to the boneyard in a moment - she's possessed of her own list of things she does not wish to think about, too.
"It's sad and pretty all at the same time, as things often are." It's not said in a flirtatious manner, though it could be taken as such - she's more focused on constancy of her own thoughts, an even roll of a hem and careful pinning. That's one done and out of harm's way.
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"It did sound pretty, the part you sang," she replies, after a moment. "I have always had a preference for the sad songs. Certainly they are much better, and often more creative, than the majority of the bawdy ones."
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Her eyes flick up, a little amber, a little green, and she catches the flush, waves her hand as if she might wave it away. Modesty instead of arrogance always turns the other side of her leaf. "Oh, don't." There's no admonishment in it. "...the bawdy ones are a bit of fun, but I'm a sad song gal, myself."
She fills the pinning with a little more of the song, finding that yes, the spirits here have decided that more pins is what she needs, even if some are silver and some are gold.
"♪Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously
For I have loved you well so long
Delighting in your company.♪
♪Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight
Greensleeves, my heart of gold
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.♪"
A wry smile as she finishes both song and pinning. "See? Sad." She steps back as she lets Alicent's arm down. "Maybe we might trade sad songs as we work, if we don't run out of breath first."
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Ohh. A bit too much of her honest bitterness may have slipped into that comment, and she cut herself off sharply. After a moment of silence, she clears her throat, and when she speaks again it is back in a calm, polite, and measured tone. "Thank you," she says, again, for the sleeves. "This is already so much better."
How many sad songs does she remember the words to, herself? Well, maybe she will find out. "I think the last time I sang in front of any other people was when my children were babes, but if you will promise not to judge me if I am rusty at it now, sure."
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It's hard not to notice the bitterness at the end, and she'll give a little nod to that, too. Changing around the narrative of a song's one thing - the rest of it? Well. Damn near impossible in some cases. "No trouble at all, Miss Alicent. Happy to help, as I said."
Stella looks around past where they stand to see what further scrap they might be able to gather before she's tasked with pushing cart up to those who might transport them to the middle of the water. There are boards that look like they once comprised a home, but now they're just scattered and broken along the ground. "I haven't made a promise in a dog's age, but what kind of person would I be to judge something like that?" she clucks her tongue as she assesses the spray of wood and bits of metal. She has no idea what they are, but there's a litter of robot parts throughout the area.
She thinks about asking after these babes - but shelves it for the moment.
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She will have to go back to that, though - the relief that floods her when her mask slipping slightly is only met with a nod washes the thought away.
Miss Alicent. No, she does indeed prefer her name free of titles, even if it is strange to her not to use them for others. "Please, just Alicent. Do you prefer the use of Miss, before your name?"
Ah, yes, back to work. The break was nice, she will not lie about that. Alicent stretches briefly, and then gets back to it. It would perhaps be wiser to gather up the strange metal items, avoid the chance of splinters, but Alicent opts for the wood. It is quite a bit easier now, both because of her sleeves being out of the way and because of the cart, which thankfully contributes to her feeling generally less like ill-help at this.
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Doesn't serve any purpose when they're working like this - and it's not as if she's negotiating business. It's difficult for her to step outside the shadow of politeness (less so than years ago, but not as easy as it is for some) but the drop of formality is always a relief. Stella gathers metal, examining some pieces closer than others - the varying sizes a mystery. The smaller ones go quickly, but after depositing what looks like a jointed arm, she heaves it in, huffs and reaches for a flask in her bag to take a long pull.
Cruel Summer is ...well, the heat is cruel, even if she's somewhat used to it, even in layers. She'll wipe her brow, wipe the lip of the canteen on her daydress and hold the it out toward Just Alicent. "It's water. I've got whiskey, but it ain't time for that yet. Not in this heat."
She thinks about the babes again, and again she holds the question.
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She pokes at the arm, when she deposits her next collection of wooden shards. Had that been a metal person? Were there metal people walking around here? That did sound horrifying. The flask - as well as water being gloriously welcome, she had been trying not to think about how thirsty she was - is a welcome distraction from that thought. "Thank you. I do not think I have ever had whiskey."
She would get an answer, although she may get a more honest one, if the question comes after the whiskey.
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Horrifying people can be an art (even just with a few words), Stella knows this well. She hadn't always taken delight in it, but she learned to. It could shut down a conversation right quick and sometimes ensure no future ones ever ensued. "Where I'm from, I just talk to less people. But the horror's sometimes entertaining, no doubt about that." She had given herself that luxury - the avoidance of others, it's not always an option for some.
There are a few more trips they might make around this area. It's hard for Stella to fathom just how much of Folkmore had been blown around, washed out or otherwise forcibly rehomed to other regions as rubble.
"Never? Well, we might change that if you like, when the sun goes down. I find that kind of drinking doesn't lend itself to good work, even when the sun's up."
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She stretches again, takes a slow deep breath, and then starts gathering again, giving in to that idea of using her skirt to help carry. Surely it does not truly count as cutting corners, when she is still working.
"I don't see why not. We will certainly have earned it, I think."
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Using her skirt isn't cutting any corner Stella might know of, and she'd likely do the same if her skirts were more voluminous than they are. Still, she's no stranger to physical labor, just not as suited to it as she'd like to be. She can't be sure just yet, but she feels somewhat faster about the business of gathering even if it is taxing. Busying the hands sometimes stills the mind, and that's always welcome, even if it ends in a sore back, sore feet, it's still a cart full of usefulness for mother turtle that's been nothing but kind, and who had asked for help.
She keeps an eye on Just Alicent, still unsure if it's lady or princess (doesn't matter much which) and should the other start to look truly drained or elsewise stricken by the heat, she'll direct a little boost of recovery the woman's way, even if it's not til dusk, when the workday's come to a close and the reptile can be seen gleaming just below the waters at the right angle.
Should Alicent want a better look, Stella will pass her a set of binoculars. They're old, no fancy opera glasses, but a battered, sturdy pair of military issue, but they do the trick better than fine, and the view is a small reward for the better part of day's labor.
A different flask comes out of her bag as she sits down, right on the shore with little care.
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Somehow, although she does start noticing the ache in her limbs growing before they finish for the day, exhaustion does not start to register until that end comes, and there is something satisfying about it then.
She still manages to be awkward. It takes her a moment to navigate sitting herself down in the sand, even with the other things she has put her clothing through today, but she finds it quite comfortable once she has, and the view... "Oh, that is lovely."
"Do you think all her babies will glow like that as well, or do you think it is only the adults?"
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"Ain't it, though?" Her voice is soft as she lets her Sight come up, not showing anything more than a bit of extra glimmer from the shell beneath the water, a little pulse here and there from any plant life deeper still. She unscrews the cap of the slightly battered silver kidney flask, its widest surface etched with a flourishing 'E' (that's visible if not decipherable) and takes a deep drink. The shine that had been in it long gone, replaced with whiskey.
What Alicent asks? It's an innocent enough question. One she'd likely have wondered at given enough time, but it raises other questions with it. "I hope they might glow, and maybe she does too. But no shame if they don't." And after a moment she holds out the flask, "...how long since yours were babes?" Perhaps the answer will be the thing she fears to hear - that they've all gone from this world or the next. There's a sorrow on this woman that would certainly speak to that were it the case. She hopes it isn't. But still, she asked.
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"Thank you." There's a little nerves in how she takes the flask as well, but this she better masks, at least until she actually drinks from it and coughs a bit at the burn. "That is... quite a strong flavor."
She supposes some question about her children was inevitable, since she brought them up. "Quite a while. My eldest son is 23, my youngest is 14, although he went to ward where I grew up when he was very small, so I did not really get to experience too many of the years when he was a babe."
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"Twenty three years is a long time." A long pull from the flask after she speaks. Were she to count twenty-three years back, she would still have been brown-haired, in the full flush of her prime, tangled up in the beginnings of a mess she's never been able to fully extricate herself from. She's not even sure she would want to.
No deals would have yet been struck, no hearts broken, no harm no foul. Well, maybe not that last one. But she uses that timeline to reflect on how much can change in a short time and weighs it against the long. Looks out at the glow in her Sight.
"Maybe they will. She seems like the kind of mother one might want for." Would that we were all so lucky.
A nod at the everything of Alicent, who she can't quite pin an age on (Lily's age, give or take a few?), but who must have been very young when she had her eldest. "Time's been kind to you. You've got that on your side, at least." It's not nothing, but she also values looks less than smarts, hence the downplay, the at least. There are better things to have - like the willingness to help a mother turtle, and an appreciation for sad songs, for the ridiculousness of men, for a day's work with a stranger. "To ward?"
It's not a foreign concept to her, though it is rare among those that aren't similarly gifted. She just lacks the word for it - wards, to her, are sigils sometimes set in blood.
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"Twenty three years is quite a long time," Alicent agrees, nodding. The sheer number of things that had changed for her, in that time. The sheer number of ways she, herself, had changed in that time, usually in ways she wished not to change.
Just as significant, the ways she did not change - twenty three years of motherhood, and she had not gotten much better at it at all. If she still had the flask, or a glass of wine, she would toast to the turtle. "She does. Certainly building an island for your children is a very impressive start." Even more so, perhaps, is being able to ask for help and get it.
Alicent chuckles, a little bitter. "In looks, yes, I suppose that has been true. I would happily have traded that kindness for others, if I am entirely honest. Although I would hate to give up my hair." Maybe she is vain in other ways that as well, but she thinks she is telling the truth about that trade. Who can really say unless it were actually offered to her?
"Mm, yes. In his toddling years, he was sent to live with my uncle, in Oldtown. I grew up there as well, and my brother still lived there as well. My first three... My first three I kept very close, but by the time Daeron was born, I did wish they could see where I had lived as a child, and my father was very certain it would be better for him."
no subject
Her own mother might have done well to send her to ward, and her brother besides her. Stella wonders a moment at this before she decides that's worth another sip. It might be worth more than a flask if she dwells on it longer so she deliberately does not, imagining instead what it might have been like for Alicent to have made such a decision.
"It is a magnificent crown," says a woman whose own hair is also a fine, thick tumble of waves, even if it's been bled of all color long ago. "Perhaps whatever might strike that bargain would let you keep that. Though I'd have to advise against speaking with anything that might offer such a trade." Advise against is too lightly a way to put it, so she amends and doesn't hide the set of her jaw, or the little spark of hatred that flickers her eyes amber as she looks from Alicent's hair to the waters. "What I'd advise there is burning it where it fucking stands, if possible. If not, a good 'fuck off' might do the trick, but you'd have to mean it."
If the alcohol has loosened her lips she cannot say. It is a relief to spit out such a thing, but it feels out of tune with what they might see glowing out under the waters, the bone-tired but kind of good feeling of all that work done. Meaning something in the end, bringing comfort to that mother out there and the babies she so clearly wants. She lets the spite bleed out into a little swell of convalescence, as if it might come up from beneath them, or drift from the water.
[ooc: recovery roll 1d6+3 = 8!]
no subject
Although clearly there is some type of story behind the other woman's advice, and that is hard to disregard. Alicent imagines she may make a similar face - if she managed her best self control - if someone said a random aside to her about possibly marrying a king.
"There is always some sort of trick to any offer that sounds that good, isn't there? I have never said that particular phrase aloud before."
"I think I could mean it."
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"Oh, I think you could, too." They've only just become acquainted, but bitterness recognizes bitterness, and that sadness around the edges is just the start of things. "You'd be surprised at the things you might mean when you get pushed a hair too far." She's circled back to hair there without meaning to - the smallest of sighs as she watches the glow dip deeper into the water. Sebastian's ghost has long fled her body, but he's resurfacing here and there in spoken word. It's bittersweet.
"Almost always, there is. I prefer to speak plainly, but it doesn't get me all that far when the people around me all have an angle. And I might could have many years on you, but it won't necessarily make me any wiser. Some people twist words like the wind twists a leaf. Every once in a while, though, someone can surprise you." Not everyone is full of shit. (Just half. Here? Slightly less than that, perhaps.)
She eyes Alicent over the flask before passing it back. "Try it out. Ain't no one here but us, and I don't think the turtle can hear you all the way back here. Maybe she's said it, herself." Maybe it's what she says to people that respond to her with rudeness. Probably not, but the idea of the mother turtle telling someone to fuck off is pretty damnably funny.
no subject
It's quite nice, for now, not being in her supposed right mind. Is that a result of all the times she has been pushed a hair too far? Maybe. She will have to split the blame between those two things, that she is considering following that direction, to try it out, as she accepts the flask again. She steals herself against the cough this time, before she drinks, and finds it easier to take a slightly longer drink from.
Whatever accomplish that amounts to, it is probably lost the next moment, when she ends up sputtering and failing to get the words out. "It - feels a bit unnatural. Although realistically, I think I have said much crueler things." Now why did she admit to that?
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Stella is not about to give up so easily, but she's not like to push too hard after this next attempt. Free will and all, but gods, Alicent looks as if she desperately needs to let it out. Is it propriety stopping her? That's a guess. Threat of some vague punishment or judgement? That's a guess, too - and Stella recalls believing the earth might open up and swallow her for saying some things aloud. She'd been very small then - and when it was all said and done, the earth had not split open.
"No shame in that, either. I could say the same myself. Impossible to always hold one's tongue, and I feel like the better one is at it, the worse it is when they do slip. But it ain't even what you say, it's how you say it."
She turns, relaxing her posture into something playful, making sure her features follow suit, and lining up a smile full of lazy mischief. A wave of her hand as if Alicent has just told her the silliest, most absurd thing, and a soft laugh as she she breathes out a friendly, "Oh, fuck off," before straightening a little. "See? Nothin' but a set of words that any tone and intent might be applied to. Now ...what would you say to the one person you'd like to see least. If you just blinked and they were sittin' here instead of me. I'd bet your 'hello' might sound a lot like a 'fuck off'. But I'm just guessin'."
A little wrinkle of her nose, a gesture of encouragement.
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More impactfully, that guess is very correct. "By those standards, I may have said it quite a few times in the past." Or even worse things - she has certainly thought worse words, on many occasions.
Alright. This is a silly thing to be stuck unable to do, especially when there is a little thrill to the possibility. She certainly enjoys imagining the people she would like to say it to, and their reactions. That is the last push she needs, it seems. She draws in another deep breath, hands back the flask - if she manages this, she does not need any more - and at last, "Fuck off."
It comes out as more of a groan, then the assertive statement she would have hoped, but it is still exciting and freeing in a way she cannot parse. "How did I do?"
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"Well, fuck you, too. You did great. Not bad at all for a first go." See? It can even be praise if you land on the right intonation, which she's had lots of practice at doing. She nods to affirm her approval (it's a three star fuck you), even if Alicent's tone could have been more venomous. She's ...tempted to push for that.
Not everyone gets it out on the first try. And for what it's worth, the groan makes it hit different. A nice little edge of exhaustion and exasperation to it, and that's not nothing.
But still. Saying it once is one thing; learning to say it when it counts is another.
"I've definitely said it without sayin' it," she continues, smile softening slightly as she shifts her posture to sit more squarely with Alicent. But there's something about saying it. "How do you feel? Little bit lighter, maybe? Or at least a bit less weighed down by 'oughts' and 'shoulds'? I spent years weighing the 'should haves', 'could haves', 'would haves', when I'd been better off with the 'fuck yous', 'fuck this-es' and 'fuck no's'."
Is it liberating? Good whiskey’ll do that, sometimes. So will a good 'fuck you'.
"One more, just for fun?"
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