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February-March 2025 Test Drive Meme
February-March 2025 TDM
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 a canon item from home, 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.
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.
Content Warnings: Forced Emotional Effects, Trapped in a Location, Potential Forced Sharing, Potential Violence, Potential Death-like Experience
New Star Children arrive as motes floating in light to land on a bar stool, in a booth, or in a chair at a table in a dimly lit bar. It's a lonely place of few patrons and a sole proprietor: a red fox… or a woman in a red sweater and autumnal colors. Blink and she will remain what someone first saw. There's little decor in the place, mostly plain polished simple wood, but there are more dark corners than anyone can count. Tucked into those corners, under tables, and anywhere else vaguely discreet are plain weapons: guns, daggers, swords, and the like. Empty and still as the bar may be, that 'decor' may rouse suspicions, among veterans and newcomers alike.
Those already in Folkmore will find an entrance to the bar whenever and wherever they feel lonely, perhaps missing someone in particular. A half-hidden door will appear pressed between buildings in Epiphany, built into a hill in Willow, etched into the bark of a grand tree, and so on and so forth. Once patrons have entered the bar, the exit fades away into the background. It doesn't seem to have disappeared entirely, so much as always being just out of sight, around a corner, hidden in shadows, or otherwise out of reach. Looking for it, or trying to leave already, will bring the proprietor's attention to a Star Child, and she'll ask them to place their order.
She's hardly received any requests for drinks. What's missing more than anything else in the bar are patrons. Anywhere from thirty to a hundred people might fill the bar to capacity, but there's no more than a handful of other people present at the moment. What fills the rest of the place to the brim are shades. Born of Lore and regret, these spectral spirits start off thin and wispy, but they feed on the loneliness, regret, and other negative emotions people bring with them.
The longer people stay, the more shades crowd around them and feed on those emotions; the more solid, colorful, and real they appear. Not only that, the shades take on the appearance of those tied to someone's regrets: those they miss, those they've hurt, or those they've failed in some way to help. On the other hand, Star Children dim, lose color, and fade. Their energy and their ability to care what happens to them drain away to strengthen the shades surrounding them. Tempting as it may be to drown one's sorrows with drinks, that course is a dangerous one. Fade away long enough, and Star Children risk turning into shades themselves—and losing themselves into being someone else's regrets. If a Star Child turns into a shade, their shades rapidly fade back to their original ghostly form and seek out their next source of energy.
The way to quiet these ever-hungry ghosts is simple: connection with the living. Ordering a drink or greeting someone will grant a brief reprieve. Speaking with someone at length holds the shades at bay. Speaking about one's regrets? No matter whether Star Children receive simple commiseration or an objective, grounding response that suggests a path towards personal growth on the subject, the interaction will cut the connection with the shade, and it will fade away. Should that shade be a recently-faded Star Child, they solidify in their seat, a real and solid person with the chance to connect again.
There's more than one way to form a connection, so whether it's a newcomer who'd rather fight than talk or an old hand who knows weapons lying around come with a catch, patrons who pick up a weapon (or two) and fight each other's shades together can also vanquish them. But beware: taking up arms to fight sends one's own shades into a frenzy, surrounding their patron and draining them faster. There's no requirement to aid each other, and others can ignore what terrible end comes to that person… but if they regret failing to help? That lost person becomes their new shade. Better hope someone's more helpful and generous of spirit then.
Anyone who makes a solid connection with another bar patron will find that they can see the exit. Freedom, at last. Furthermore, when settling their tab, the bartender passes one last item over—an object from home, tied somehow to one of their regrets, even just the simple regret that it hadn't come along for the Star Child's original journey to Folkmore because it'd be so useful now. This item may even be a weapon or magical item.
New Star Children arrive as motes floating in light to land on a bar stool, in a booth, or in a chair at a table in a dimly lit bar. It's a lonely place of few patrons and a sole proprietor: a red fox… or a woman in a red sweater and autumnal colors. Blink and she will remain what someone first saw. There's little decor in the place, mostly plain polished simple wood, but there are more dark corners than anyone can count. Tucked into those corners, under tables, and anywhere else vaguely discreet are plain weapons: guns, daggers, swords, and the like. Empty and still as the bar may be, that 'decor' may rouse suspicions, among veterans and newcomers alike.
Those already in Folkmore will find an entrance to the bar whenever and wherever they feel lonely, perhaps missing someone in particular. A half-hidden door will appear pressed between buildings in Epiphany, built into a hill in Willow, etched into the bark of a grand tree, and so on and so forth. Once patrons have entered the bar, the exit fades away into the background. It doesn't seem to have disappeared entirely, so much as always being just out of sight, around a corner, hidden in shadows, or otherwise out of reach. Looking for it, or trying to leave already, will bring the proprietor's attention to a Star Child, and she'll ask them to place their order.
She's hardly received any requests for drinks. What's missing more than anything else in the bar are patrons. Anywhere from thirty to a hundred people might fill the bar to capacity, but there's no more than a handful of other people present at the moment. What fills the rest of the place to the brim are shades. Born of Lore and regret, these spectral spirits start off thin and wispy, but they feed on the loneliness, regret, and other negative emotions people bring with them.
The longer people stay, the more shades crowd around them and feed on those emotions; the more solid, colorful, and real they appear. Not only that, the shades take on the appearance of those tied to someone's regrets: those they miss, those they've hurt, or those they've failed in some way to help. On the other hand, Star Children dim, lose color, and fade. Their energy and their ability to care what happens to them drain away to strengthen the shades surrounding them. Tempting as it may be to drown one's sorrows with drinks, that course is a dangerous one. Fade away long enough, and Star Children risk turning into shades themselves—and losing themselves into being someone else's regrets. If a Star Child turns into a shade, their shades rapidly fade back to their original ghostly form and seek out their next source of energy.
The way to quiet these ever-hungry ghosts is simple: connection with the living. Ordering a drink or greeting someone will grant a brief reprieve. Speaking with someone at length holds the shades at bay. Speaking about one's regrets? No matter whether Star Children receive simple commiseration or an objective, grounding response that suggests a path towards personal growth on the subject, the interaction will cut the connection with the shade, and it will fade away. Should that shade be a recently-faded Star Child, they solidify in their seat, a real and solid person with the chance to connect again.
There's more than one way to form a connection, so whether it's a newcomer who'd rather fight than talk or an old hand who knows weapons lying around come with a catch, patrons who pick up a weapon (or two) and fight each other's shades together can also vanquish them. But beware: taking up arms to fight sends one's own shades into a frenzy, surrounding their patron and draining them faster. There's no requirement to aid each other, and others can ignore what terrible end comes to that person… but if they regret failing to help? That lost person becomes their new shade. Better hope someone's more helpful and generous of spirit then.
Anyone who makes a solid connection with another bar patron will find that they can see the exit. Freedom, at last. Furthermore, when settling their tab, the bartender passes one last item over—an object from home, tied somehow to one of their regrets, even just the simple regret that it hadn't come along for the Star Child's original journey to Folkmore because it'd be so useful now. This item may even be a weapon or magical item.
- New Star Children arrive in a dim, mostly empty bar.
- Kuma Lisa is the bartender, in fox or human form.
- Shades feed on Star Children's negative emotions, draining them, and taking the appearance of people they miss.
- Connection is how Star Children ward off shades. Talking about regrets makes one safe from shades.
- Star Children can also take up weapons and fight shades. It sends your shades into a frenzy.
- Star Children can turn into shades if they are fed on long enough. When others connect, it can de-shade them to try again.
- Those who form connections can see the exit and leave. They also get an item from home related to one of their regrets.
Content Warnings: Forced Relocation, Forced Body Modification, Forced Conversation/Revelations
Not every bottle in the bar is full of alcohol, a mixer, or even a far weirder spirit. They don't contain Folkmore's spirits at all; Kuma Lisa has skipped straight to bottling Star Children. Each bottle contains a single Star Child, and the label's design reflects what they might taste like, were they alcohol. Those inside experience a soft place to sit and reflect on their lives surrounded by thick glass walls that permit light through while distorting the view into indistinct shapes. There's no way to break the glass from within, and no way to tell which bottles are for bar service and which bottles contain Star Children from without. There's no way to signal someone outside to provide a direct rescue, but never fear: there is a simple way out.
Everyone inside the bottle has their Relic, even if they usually don't have it on their person. Sitting in this round or round-esque room with no exit, messages about missing someone begin to be exchanged—the first message each Star Child sends ghost-written (rather than willingly sent) about someone they miss, and signed 'the true thoughts and feelings of one [Star Child].' As advertised, the message is true. It also resonates with the recipient, some similarity between them and the missed person. Perhaps it can be the start of a beautiful friendship (or the world's most awkward exchange, but who's counting?). At least the Star Child behind this message is predisposed to like something about the recipient, however grouchy their exterior. If a conversation goes well, a system message will pop up asking each person if they would like to talk face-to-face. Should they both agree, they are poured out of their bottles to land safely on the garnish in a drink. The drink isn't massive. The Star Children are tiny!
That's right, these tiny Star Children float on a garnish-raft in a cocktail at the lonely Bar None above. They have a nice umbrella to provide them shade, and it's all set for a cozy conversation if they so wish. As these tiny Star Children talk, the drink around them will show related memories reflected on the surface. These reflections stick around until the conversation is over or someone, preferably someone with a bigger stomach, drinks it. Spills continue to reflect memories and cannot be mopped up so much as cleanly pushed into a fresh glass. A larger patron cannot drink the tiny Star Children. Kuma Lisa will stop anyone drinking from a glass with Star Children still on it.
Star Children who decide that 'no, they shall not discuss this matter after all' may attempt to flee, but being an inch or so high has its own problems. The bar is massive, the shades may become violent, and they are but a small, small person. Even those who can normally shapeshift or alter their size find they cannot make themselves any bigger! At the end of the day, whether with their original partner or another tiny Star Child, the only way to get bigger is to be the bigger person… and talk about those feelings.
Star Children who remain tiny by closing time, whether they stay locked in their glass prison or scattered around the bar, will be tucked back into bottles (as needed) and those bottles laid gently on their sides, which reorients the space inside to a tiny bedroom. Each bottle warms to the temperature to help its resident sleep comfortably. Larger patrons join them. Kuma Lisa shrinks any larger patrons who cannot leave and deposits them safely in bottles away from the shades. No one is missed, so there is no free rein in the bar overnight. Bedtime (bar) snacks will be provided, as well. The bartender takes good care of her patrons regardless of their size, with the only damper being that one remains in a bottle to hope for better results the next day. Star Children can take as much time as they need. Kuma Lisa is patient.
Not every bottle in the bar is full of alcohol, a mixer, or even a far weirder spirit. They don't contain Folkmore's spirits at all; Kuma Lisa has skipped straight to bottling Star Children. Each bottle contains a single Star Child, and the label's design reflects what they might taste like, were they alcohol. Those inside experience a soft place to sit and reflect on their lives surrounded by thick glass walls that permit light through while distorting the view into indistinct shapes. There's no way to break the glass from within, and no way to tell which bottles are for bar service and which bottles contain Star Children from without. There's no way to signal someone outside to provide a direct rescue, but never fear: there is a simple way out.
Everyone inside the bottle has their Relic, even if they usually don't have it on their person. Sitting in this round or round-esque room with no exit, messages about missing someone begin to be exchanged—the first message each Star Child sends ghost-written (rather than willingly sent) about someone they miss, and signed 'the true thoughts and feelings of one [Star Child].' As advertised, the message is true. It also resonates with the recipient, some similarity between them and the missed person. Perhaps it can be the start of a beautiful friendship (or the world's most awkward exchange, but who's counting?). At least the Star Child behind this message is predisposed to like something about the recipient, however grouchy their exterior. If a conversation goes well, a system message will pop up asking each person if they would like to talk face-to-face. Should they both agree, they are poured out of their bottles to land safely on the garnish in a drink. The drink isn't massive. The Star Children are tiny!
That's right, these tiny Star Children float on a garnish-raft in a cocktail at the lonely Bar None above. They have a nice umbrella to provide them shade, and it's all set for a cozy conversation if they so wish. As these tiny Star Children talk, the drink around them will show related memories reflected on the surface. These reflections stick around until the conversation is over or someone, preferably someone with a bigger stomach, drinks it. Spills continue to reflect memories and cannot be mopped up so much as cleanly pushed into a fresh glass. A larger patron cannot drink the tiny Star Children. Kuma Lisa will stop anyone drinking from a glass with Star Children still on it.
Star Children who decide that 'no, they shall not discuss this matter after all' may attempt to flee, but being an inch or so high has its own problems. The bar is massive, the shades may become violent, and they are but a small, small person. Even those who can normally shapeshift or alter their size find they cannot make themselves any bigger! At the end of the day, whether with their original partner or another tiny Star Child, the only way to get bigger is to be the bigger person… and talk about those feelings.
Star Children who remain tiny by closing time, whether they stay locked in their glass prison or scattered around the bar, will be tucked back into bottles (as needed) and those bottles laid gently on their sides, which reorients the space inside to a tiny bedroom. Each bottle warms to the temperature to help its resident sleep comfortably. Larger patrons join them. Kuma Lisa shrinks any larger patrons who cannot leave and deposits them safely in bottles away from the shades. No one is missed, so there is no free rein in the bar overnight. Bedtime (bar) snacks will be provided, as well. The bartender takes good care of her patrons regardless of their size, with the only damper being that one remains in a bottle to hope for better results the next day. Star Children can take as much time as they need. Kuma Lisa is patient.
- Star Children are transported into a bottle at Bar None with their relics.
- Ghost-written messages start conversations between bottled Star Children about people they miss.
- Star Children who agree to talk about it in person get poured out safely onto a garnish in a cocktail. The cocktail reflects related memories.
- Star Children can get up to chaos when tiny but cannot grow or escape. The only way to get big is to be the bigger person (and talk).
- Star Children, large and small, who cannot leave by closing time are returned (or kept) in bottles. Bottles are turned sideways, have bedrooms, and bar snacks are provided.
Questions
Nagisa Shiota | Assassination Classroom | Myth/TDM
[ As any new child, Nagisa arrived landing on a barstool as motes of light until the kid materialized. He hasn’t been in a bar much, for obvious reasons, especially the fact that he’s so young. His school uniform is tailored in such a way that it gives him a feminine silhouette, although his hair is pulled up in twin pigtails in a semi-successful attempt at giving off a short haired look.
Glancing around the bar, of course he picks up on the weapons and he’s all too quick to slip a knife into the cargo pocket on his pants. In fact, it would take a good deal of perception to pick up Nagisa’s movements. Now he’s armed. Good.
He doesn’t order a drink, but rather he’s looking around for an exit, for surely there must be one. Why would the fox he followed bring him to a bar?
The longer he sits there, the more likely he is to find himself feeling a bit like floundering. He can’t help but wish he wasn’t there alone, in fact it would be nice if- ]
Karma! [ Nagisa’s eyes go a little wide when he sees the shade that looks exactly like his somewhat semi-estranged best friend. They're complicated. Maybe sitting around won’t be so bad if he’s doing it with a friend. To the outsider, his light begins to fade, which might make him stand out more than he normally would.]
II. Message In A Bottle
[ Or maybe he’s had the chance to find himself trapped – not in a bar but in a round room with no exit at all. In this room he remains rather frustrated. Kicking the walls doesn’t seem to do anything, nothing at all in fact.
A relic, something that’s new and unfamiliar to him has a blinking light, a waiting message.
No, Nagisa didn’t send the outgoing one, but maybe just maybe another Star Child has answered his call all the same. ]
Karma’s going to take care of this, I’m not going to be left alone here with no escape.
[ While that may sound a bit like Nagisa’s really into new age thinking – he isn’t, he actually knows someone named Karma. ]
III. Wildcard
[Choose your own adventure. Nagisa is a natural-born assassin. He often sneaks around, difficult to perceive until it’s too late. He wields his bloodlust like a weapon itself and he can pick up on people’s unconscious wavelengths. Despite saying otherwise, most people will mistake him for female unless they have physical proof. ]
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Maybe it's karma leading me to you? You're not alone! It'll be okay!
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She doesn't know what exactly is happening here in this bar where the new people seem to be appearing this time around-- but whatever is going on with Nagisa? It's bad. Especially when the figure next to him doesn't look like an actual person to her. More like a ghost, or a shadow. And the way it slowly seems to be draining the color from Nagisa-- That's bad! An obvious sign of something bad!
So the girl doesn't hesitate at all. She quickly moves in Nagisa's direction, butting in even if she's speaking up mid-conversation between the two. ]
You should be more careful than this, you know!
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II
[April of course thinks he's talking about karma-the-concept and this place has beaten most of her optimism out of her this week.]
nothings permanent here though so i guess if youre also in a bottle you wont be for long
theres a trick to it idk what tho
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One | Drakengard 3 | Myth
And in most of the seats, various shades began to form, forming six figures around One. She didn’t react much though, simply scoffing at their sight. So much for positive thinking.
“Of course I miss them,” she spoke, eyes settling on Zero before narrowing on her form. When the anger formed however, it just as quickly vanished, color fading from One’s body. “Except her, but…even in that dream world…There’s a part of me that still feels guilty.”
She tried to look away, not wishing to entertain more of this. But her eyes widened at the sight of the sixth shade, one who resembled her quite a bit, though in a different, red outfit. She only looked more hurt, bowing her head and giving a low laugh, as all the guilt kept piling up.
“If alcohol didn’t make me wish to vomit…I would be incredibly tempted by it right now.”
At least these shades weren’t talking. Though she’d be mortified at having to explain the reason her brother existed...
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"What about the alcohol would be tempting? Is it possible to get that another way?" Alluka asks. She eyes the seats, all occupied in some way or another. She rests a hand on a chair from a neighboring table. "Is it all right if I join you?"
Maybe she can help? She doesn't make people throw up, not even Vergil.
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Asbel Lhant | Tales of Graces ƒ | Legend
A) [One moment, Asbel had found a curious fox had entered his office, and immediately it had captured his attention. How did a fox get in here? He didn't hear the door open, and the window was closed... Surely, Frederic didn't allow it in, did he? Whatever the circumstances, his curiosity had been peaked, and so he chose to approach the fox, wondering where it had come from, and hoping to lead it out.
Little did he know this would lead him on a journey away from his home, his world, his self, and into a brand new realm... Into Folkmore.
Upon his arrival, he found himself landing on a bar stool. His eyes slowly flutter open, as he takes in his surroundings. A dimly lit bar, with a strangely small patronage...]
I... Where...? ...That wasn't just a dream? [He mutters this to himself more than anything, recalling the strange journey he had just been compelled to follow. The bartender seems to overhear him, however, and tries to motion to him to order a drink.]
Oh, uhh, no thanks. I'm not old enough to drink yet.
[Old enough to lead a province, but not old enough to drink.]
B) [Sitting in the dark, somber atmosphere of the bar, sipping away at a mug full of juice he'd managed to score himself, Asbel can't help but feel compelled to reflect on his past, just as his instructor is wont to do. Looking back on his actions and his decisions, and where they've led... Was it all worth it? If he'd stayed in the knights instead of returning home, maybe he could have protected Richard better. Maybe if he'd never run away from home in the first place, his father wouldn't have passed away. ...Maybe if he hadn't been such a disobedient child, none of the past seven years would have happened.
Such lingering regrets take their form, a shade manifesting in the seat next to Asbel, and the figure's appearance immediately catches him off-guard.]
D... Dad?! Why are you...
[II. Message In A Bottle]
[Perhaps Asbel should have taken the opportunity to escape when he had the chance, because now he's found himself trapped in a small circular room, with nothing on his person save for the Relic. He'd already tried climbing out, smashing the walls, but after a while, he was exhausted and frustrating. Dammit, how did he get himself into this mess?
Having no choice but to sit down and stew, he feels the device he was holding begin to vibrate with a received message. Strange, he didn't remember contacting anybody, much less considering he could/i> contact somebody with it. But reading the response he'd received, something about it just seems to resonate with him. So he decided to respond back.]
You too? I hope they aren't getting caught up in this too. I just want them to be safe.
[He wants to be able to protect his loved ones, and yet here he is, trapped in some... place.]
[III. Wildcard]
[Choose your own adventure with Asbel instead! Asbel's a skilled swordsman, a curry aficionado, a provincial lord, and a determined defender of what he holds dear. He's also dense as bricks and will often fail to pick up what you're putting down if you aren't straightforward with him.]
IB
There's a shade trailing after him as he approaches the bar for a refill, but it hasn't taken a particular solid shape yet. It's looking somewhat more humanoid than the average wispy spirit, somewhat more like it's walking instead of floating, but that's the extent of it. Still, as he passes by Asbel, he takes note of the grown man basically materializing there. It stops him in his tracks, eyes wide with surprise. While he doesn't know either of these people, he feels compelled to ask:]
Was that... teleportation?
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ib
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Yelena Belova | mcu | myth | current character
For all the exploring Yelena has done since she arrived, she has not yet become acquainted with enough of the businesses to realize right away that there is something more off than normal about this bar. In fact, at first, she thinks she may just count this place as one of her favorites eventually, even if today it is not enough to dispel the unpleasant mood she woke up in today. The shades are not even a matter of concern, at first, Natasha had said she had not seen any but maybe she had just missed this place. It is not much stranger than other things she has seen here. (It does make her more of a liar on her first day here, but oh well.) Even when some of them start to approach her, start to look familiar, she is (overly) confident she can just ignore them. It is not anyone she is not used to seeing in nightmares, or worse, in happy dreams where they had all gotten to live some other type of life.
Except. Then she is looking at herself, likely just a little younger than she was when everything went to shit, itty bitty and dressed in play clothes, and immediately she is frozen, staring and barely breathing. This is... This is something she is not doing, whatever it is that this place wants her to do right now. Nope. She downs her barely touched drink and hops back up, spends the next - she has no idea how long, actually - searching for the exit. When she can't find it, she strongly considers using one of the weapons she's spotted under tables to make an exit herself, but it is obvious now this is some sort of trap and who knows what the magic consequence of that might be? Eventually, she gives up searching, plants herself at a corner table with another, bigger drink, and tries to act as though the ghosts are not even there. She only manages it in the sense that she is staring at her drink and not looking at them, too visibly tense to be unaware or unaffected by it. Equal proof is the appearance of the ghost child, climbed up on a stool at the table and kicking her feet, looking well fed on those negative feelings even while "ignored."
[Feel free to encounter her during that mad search for an exit instead of stuck in a corner nursing a drink and resisting trying to break through the wall, if it suits better.]
ii. Message in a Bottle
Yelena has woken up in a lot of strange places, in her life. It has been some time since she came to with no idea how she got to whatever strange place it is, but there is still some familiarity to waking up in this strange, round, glass room.
That keeps her from immediately hurting herself against one of the thick glass walls, but it does not make it any less irritating. She should just send a quick message to any number of people to figure this out, as soon as she realizes all she has brought in here is the relic, but she can't bring herself to actually do that. Instead she burns up quite a bit of time going over the walls for any possible weakness, with no luck. Who builds a room entirely out of glass, with such a strange shape to the roof? She can't even see where the curve of it meets. Eventually she gives up on that and, in a fit of stubbornness, just lays down on the floor. Whoever or whatever did this will have to reveal why they did sooner or later.
Then her relic goes off, with a reply in a conversation she absolutely did not start.
[The message about someone she misses is likely another Widow or Widow-adjacent person (in simple terms, women trained to do violence from a young age against their will), she doesn't know a whole lot of other people, or if you want a bit more emotional punch, a member of her family even though some of them are here, either because she wants to see more of them than she has been OR because she misses them as she believed them to be before they were split up in her childhood. Ping me if you want specific/more details for your character to have gotten.]
iii. Wildcard
[BYO-Prompt! She's still wandering around a lot, living in the treehouses, can frequently be found in various eateries.]
Loneliest Bar
Fortunately almost right away he spotted someone that he knew. And she maybe looked like she could use a distraction. Or someone to stab. Could go either way.
“Hey, Wary Knife Lady!”
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ii. Message in a Bottle
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Mickey Mouse | Mickey Donald Goofy : The Three Musketeers | Legend | Current Character
[ Mickey's not much of a drinker - just never saw the appeal of consuming something that could easily make you silly and cause trouble. But, well, looks like he's stuck here? And he does have regrets! But less in the sense of "wish I hadn't done this", and more in the sense of not letting his loved ones know how much they meant to him.
As more time passes, the shades take on the forms of the friends back home he misses dearly - gangly Goofy, short-tempered Donald, and loyal pup Pluto. Mickey has his arms on the table, resting his chin on them, his color starting to diminish as he continues mourning in his loneliness. ]
... What's the point of even bein' a musketeer, if we couldn't do it together...?
Message In A Bottle
[ And Mickey thought he was too short already! Goes to show him, huh? As he struggles and fails to free himself, the relic begins to ghost-write... though to be fair, he probably would have written this exact message himself, if given the chance! ]
I always told my friends how proud of them I was. Goofy for his smarts, Donald for his courage, Pluto for his loyalty. But it doesn't feel like enough. If I'd known we'd be apart for so long, I would have told them every hour, on the hour.
... I even miss the Princess, and I only knew her for a few hours!
Wildcard
[ make your own prompt! feel free to plot with me at melcat33 for both plurk/discord ]
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This one, however, he does have an interest in. ]
I miss my friends too. Some of them come in and out, but - there's some I haven't seen for years, and I don't know when I'll get to see them next. But I hope they all know that I'm proud of them.
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"Dabi" Touya Todoroki | My Hero Acadamia AU | Familiar | TDM
A: THE LONELIEST BAR
[ Dabi thought this bar really sucked, actually. ]
[ There were a number of shades which swirled around him - and frankly, he didn't want to talk to a single one. Some of them were stupid-assed heroes he recognized. Others ... well, he walked away for a reason. From the League, and from ... it wasn't worth putting names to any of them. And while Dabi for a second felt lonely - who gives a shit? None of these people were worth talking to. He'd rather get out and do anything else. ]
[ At least the drinks are decent, but Dabi was unsettled enough that he barely sipped at his. He's still trying to look around at a door, though his most obvious option - just burn a hole through a wall somewhere - was becoming more attractive all the time. ]
[ But then a real person sat down next to him, and Dabi can't help but drawl; ]
You come here often?
B: MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
B-1: [ TEXT ] un: extrawelldone
I miss something I never had. ever feel that? I don't miss my actual dad, but I miss the idea I could've had a decent one - the true thoughts and feelings of one Touya Todoroki.
B-2: [ ACTION ] (( ooc: if you want to handwave the convo above; ))
[ This would actually be pretty nice if he wasn't, what, a couple of centimeters tall? Whatever the fancy stuff was, bright and vibrant blue, it tasted good. Kind of spicy and kind of bitter and kind of sweet all at once. The last part was what snuck up on you, made the bitter-spicy flavors easier to tolerate. Whatever, he liked it. What he didn't like was being stuck in a bottle. ]
[ He thought no-one was going to answer his message - after all, it's the creepy game-boy-ish relic that wrote the first part, so whatever - so Dabi was debating if it was worth trying to melt the bottle (and possibly boil himself on accident) before he's suddenly poured out into a drink - landing on a lemon peel right in front of someone else. ]
A
He lets out a little snort. ]
Not really. Haven't seen you around here.
[ Hawks comments dryly, but notably there's no feather at Dabi's throat. Not yet, anyway. ]
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B-1
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CW: rape, partner abuse, child abuse, child neglect
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Text; un: shoto
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A
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Midge Maisel | The Marvelous Mrs Maisel | Familiar | Current Player
[ Midge doesn’t remember falling asleep on the floor. At first when she wakes up she thinks that she’s in one of the aquariums in Tides. Distorted shapes move on the other side of translucent glass. As she regains consciousness, she realizes that she’s in some kind of round room surrounded by walls made of glass. The high ceiling slopes off to a point, but it’s too dark to see what’s up there. Fully awake now, Midge stands up and tries to find a way out of here. She bangs on the glass wall with a fist. ]
Hey. [ Nothing. The shapes beyond the glass keep moving around as if nothing is amiss. Another bang. ] HEY!
[ After a few minutes of banging and shouting to no avail, Midge takes a step back and lets out a deep breath. She’s trapped here, but this is obviously Thirteen’s doing. That means there should be a way out, though it will probably be an unconventional one. At first, she tries inspecting the walls, looking for any weakness in the glass that she might be able to break through. Midge finds none. Everything is solid the whole way around.
She sits down in order to try to think and regroup. Something in her pocket presses up against her leg. There’s a huge sense of relief when she pulls out her relic. Hopefully it will still work in here and she can send a message to the outside world.
When Midge opens her relic, she’s surprised to find that she, apparently, has already sent out a message. ]
text; un: mrsmaisel
I wonder sometimes if Lenny and I could have been more than just friends.
- the true thoughts and feelings of one Midge Maisel
text | un: ohdeer
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Text; un: sharpshooter
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Ada Wong 🦋 Resident Evil 🦋 Familiar
There's little of this place to truly explore, but Ada opts to look for that less than obvious exit all the same.
"Now, what do we have here?" she says, noticing a loosened floorboard creaking with one of her next steps. She tests it for a moment, giving it a little more weight and watching its opposite end raise before crouching down to remove it. From the little hiding place in the floor, Ada pulls out a handgun. She inspects the gun's magazine and is pleased to find it full, but still takes a moment to look around the establishment before claiming it for herself and placing it in her empty holster. Finding a weapon in a bar doesn't exactly strike Ada as particularly odd in general, but it does seem odd to her that it would be so easy for her to stumble into it. Well, she knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth and holsters it. Replacing the floorboard, she rises back to her feet and dusts her hands off to take a further look around for more possible weapons. Ada isn't exactly looking to build an arsenal, but...
Again. Gift horses. Mouths. She can maintain her suspicions without digging too deeply just yet.
After several more minutes of looking for more possible weapon caches, Ada eventually comes to settle at the bar herself. One of the shades has seemingly finally taken an interest in her, ghosting after her steps, but has not yet taken on any form than its own amorphous and wispy one. She sits a couple seats down from the nearest Star Child, seemingly ignoring them as much as any other patron in this place. Subtly though, she spares them a glance as she's awaiting her ordered mixed drink, wordlessly assessing them.
Ada chooses to wait them out when it comes to striking a conversation. Having others approach her usually stirs up a bit of confidence in others or provides her with ample opportunity to kindly soothe any anxiety they might have at the prospect of speaking to a woman that looks like her. Either way, she's in the driver's seat and able to more effortlessly divert the conversation in the direction she needs or wants it go in, and she thinks that's going to be more useful than idle small talk when it comes to getting out of this place. When her drink is placed in front of her, she politely thanks the barkeep and slides the glass closer to herself, but that's as far as it gets as far as touching her lips is concerned.
Of course, there's no guarantee that such tactics will work. It may come down to Ada making the first move in the end, and she's willing to offer a seemingly gentle comment upon the order of the other Star Child's next drink.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? You look like you've had enough tonight."
((ooc: feel free to pick anything out of this as a jumping off point and/or otherwise feel free to riff and wildcard as you see fit. if you don't prefer prose, i'll match your brackets!))
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When a beautiful woman sits down nearby, he knows she's new in town. She's a woman in red, yes, but she has a gothic air to her. He'd remember her. He waits some time to see whether she speaks first and to let her adjust to, well, Folkmore as it lays out in this bar.
"As far as I can tell, it is exactly what you ordered in the glass," Baphomet says by way of greeting, "No unusual effects." As can happen sometimes in this place. He has enough of a tolerance he's not worried about the alcohol itself. Not interacting is likely more dangerous. The first rule of Folkmore is to interact.
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Heihachi Mishima | Tekken | Myth
As Heihachi materialized at the bar, it would almost seem like he was already half faded. He wore a black karate gi, the top torn so that only one shoulder was covered. He was pale as he pushed himself into an upright position at the bar, though color began to return to him as he did. Of course that only highlighted just how battered he was otherwise as several discolored splotches of skin - many fresh bruises - covered his torso. He glanced around the room in the dark, noting the positions of everyone else in the room, the shadowy shapes that clung to the corners, and even noted what he could of the weapons. He was pulled from his hyper vigilance when prompted for his order and after turning his attention back to the bartender just barked a single word, his voice rough and hoarse and pathetic.
"Sake." He glanced down at his gi and then toward the nearest trash can before ripping the remaning part of the gi off and deposting it in the trash as his face twisted into a frustrated scowl. He'd lost. And to make things worse, he'd lost to Kazuya. Again.
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Instead she sits at a table and waits for whatever will happen. She's good at waiting. She takes a sip of water and refuses to let her thoughts return either to Ringo or to what her life will lack when she leaves Folkmore. There's no point in dwelling on them. She has much research to do. Not only on London but on her horse. She knows the basics, but Mizu will do right by Kai. Kai deserves it. Now there's a line of thought she can tolerate.
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Mewtwo | Pokemon (anime) | Legend
The transition was quick, quicker than Mewtwo would've liked. One moment he was approaching what seemed to be a heretofore undiscovered species of Vulpix, Fennekin, or perhaps even a Nickit. The next, he was sitting at what appeared to be a human bar. His initial reaction was one of panic, quickly floating into a corner not caring what he knocked over as a blue aura surrounded his body. He scanned the room intensely, mind reaching out to see if he could contact any of the Pokemon he had just talked to only to have a sobering realization. He could not sense any Pokemon. Even Dark-types had a psychic footprint even if they were immune to psionic energies otherwise.
A full minute passes as he looks as if he would be able to go feral at a moment's notice before the glow around his body fades. Nobody has moved to apprehend him, nobody has pulled out a pokeball, at most he'd gotten odd looks from the other patrons. He wasn't sure what was going on - the fox, whatever that was, hadn't exactly explained much when he was sent here - but for now at least he wasn't looking to fight his way out of the place. The bartender had asked him for his order and even poured what appeared to be simple grape juice though Mewtwo hadn't said a word. She slid it across the bar, and rather than tumbling off the edge of the bar the glass simply floats over to where Mewtwo had assumed a position not unlike that of a cat, curled up on itself, sipping from the cup as he eyed the bar and kept an eye on the shadows swirling overhead.
Message in a Bottle
Mewtwo wasn't sure what to make of the small room he'd found himself in. It was preferable to the bar he'd initially appeared in, but the fact that the walls that looked like simple glass withstood the full might of his psychic attacks was... unnerving. After a few minutes of struggle, he simply plopped down in the middle of the room, pondering his next course of action. He wasn't exactly keen on human made technology, and as such had disregarded the relic that was placed in the room with him. Though after a few minutes, his options limited, he turned his attention back toward it. He turned it over in the air with his mind, pulling the stylus from its place near the hinge. It would be about that time that the ghost-written message would be sent out.
"The world was vaster and more wondrous than you ever got to know, Amber. I only wish I could show you..."
Wildcard
[I'm open to just about any kind of shenanigans out and about in the wider setting once he gets out of the bar.]
Loneliest Bar
No, it's not a giant Pikachu, or the other rodents that come out every new generation. Mickey's not sure what he's looking at either, but where he's from, there's all types of animals, so is this fella really so different? He just offers a kind smile, curious about the floating glass he just saw.
Re: Loneliest Bar
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Aventurine | Honkai Star Rail | Familiar
His thumb was hovering over the screen of his phone, prepared to call the young woman in question. But before Aventurine could the fox was already hopping down from his desk and making for the open door in his office. That just so happened to be next to the actual office door. ]
... huh. That's new.
[ Common sense was not something the Stoneheart lacked. He simply opted to ignore it in favor of his curiosity being piqued. Which would explain why instead of logically assessing the current situation, Aventurine did not hesitate to follow after the animal with a silent prayer to Mama Fenge lingering in his thoughts. It's not as if he had an important meeting in the next ten system minutes or anything of the sort.
(Yes, he did. But it was with Sugilite. It was fine if he missed it.)
Bars were not unfamiliar to him. He had been to many many many of them in his line of work. This one in particular was new to him however. Also, it was a lot quieter than most of the ones he'd visited in the past. As he surveyed the room with a furrowed brow he noted that it had exceedingly few patrons. ]
Must be too early. Or at least the evening crowd hasn't arrived yet.
[ The minutes that followed consisted of Aventurine quietly circling the bar. He had already noted that the entrance had seemingly faded from existence when he first looked back. It earned an arched eyebrow from the young man. This place didn't look like it belonged to the Mask Fools in his eyes. But instead of feeling alarmed he shrugged this off in favor of continuing his exploration. During said exploration he had come across a small handgun that was poorly hidden under one of the seat cushions of a booth table. With a quiet hum to himself the weapon was pocketed - though he was more than confident in his shields being plenty for the time being should anything arise.
But his shields were not going to prepare him for what his sights would finally settle on. Years of practice allowed for him to mask his facial expression, yet there was no denying the flicker of recognition that flashed in his eyes. Names were caught in the back of his throat as he refrained from uttering them out loud. This had to be some kind of trick. Right? His stomach twisted into a knot as he turned away from them.
Was this some sort of sick, twisted joke from Aha? Goddess, he hoped not.
Turning on his heel, the peacock-esque coat tails spun with him as the Stoneheart made a beeline for the counter. Easing himself into an empty stool a few seats down from another guest, he tapped the bar with two gloved fingers to catch the young woman's attention. Flashing his ever so brilliant and confident smile, he brought his chin down to rest in his other hand. With ease he settled into his charming persona. ]
A glass of your best wine, please! And another round of whatever my friend here ordered too. I'll pay of course.
[ Aventurine gestures to the person he was sharing the counter with. An unfamiliar face in an unfamiliar setting but hospitality still counts for something. And what better way to hopefully get answers than by playing up the part he was so used to playing.
He was, of course, not about to acknowledge the fact that the three shades of his very deceased family had followed him over and insisted on lingering around him. ]
[ ooc: Please use whatever point in this tag to start a conversation with Aventurine! And I'm also open to a different prompt entirely! If you would like to throw any ideas/questions for threading my way you can poke me on plurk at 'tantei' or send me a DM on here.
Also I can swap to prose writing if that is preferred! Brackets are more of a default for me is all. ]
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A-ah, that was just juice, please.
[The struggles of not being quite old enough to drink yet...
He turns his attention to Aventurine now though.]
That's really generous of you.
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Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter | MCU | Myth | Current Character
The Loneliest Bar, Bar None
There was a problem when it came to leading a life where everyone you loved inevitably died or was killed by you. Now Dex was facing it. He was sitting at the bar and was getting the shock of his life as all the ghosts of his past were coming back to literally haunt him.
The amount of shades that kept wandering close to him was a lot for one single person. Six distinct figures, both men and women, all from various stages in his life. It would be easy to tell who two of them were and what they meant to him because they resembled Dex strongly lookswise: his mother and father. What was also telling was they were about the same age Dex himself was now, a hint to the fact they’d died when he was still very young.
The other two would be harder to figure out. One of them was a guy dressed up like a coach of some sort, baseball or football, something of that nature. The other was an older woman who was a little short and with dark hair, maybe in her fifties, who was dressed professionally. They were a little fuzzier than the other shades as if seen through memories which were a bit older than the rest.
The most recent two, made sharper in appearance than the other four because they were the most recent in Dex’s mind, were a woman with red hair and a kind look in her blue eyes dressed in an outfit that suggested she’d been jogging right before ending up here. This one he couldn’t bear to look in the eye and the one he kept trying to avoid even glancing at the most. The last one was an Indian-American man, handsome and with nice-looking hair, right around Dex’s own age. He was dressed in a suit and definitely gave off the air of being a fed the same way that Dex himself did.
“Fuck off!” He snapped at anyone who tried to engage him in a conversation about his feelings or the many (many, many) regrets he had regarding these figures. “I don’t want to talk about it!” Yeah, that was some bullshit, and he wasn’t about to engage in this game of Thirteen’s. While Dex usually had very high or low emotional states thanks to his BPD, it wasn’t often he got this bad. But right now seeing all those that had left him was rubbing his nerves raw.
It was going to be very easy for Dex to end up turning into a shade himself. He was stubborn and full of self-loathing. He was gonna need someone with a bit of compassion and a lot of patience to get him through this,
Message In A Bottle
When Dex first ended up in the bottle he was stuck in, his first thought was to try to break out. All that ended up was with him nearly getting hit by his own damn bullet when he fired at the glass of this strange prison with his gun and it had ricocheted right back at him. After that, he decided it would be a bad idea to try any other escape attempts. He just sighed and sat down, trying not to get lost inside his own head.
It wasn’t long before the buzzing and voices started to creep back in. Fortunately, it was also about that time that a message got sent out from his Relic.
Every single person I’ve ever loved has died. And I think I deserve it. I deserve to be alone. - The true thoughts and feelings of one Benjamin Poindexter
The initial message might have had some of the Star Children asking who the hell that was supposed to be, given Dex had told no one his full name or even his real first name since he’d arrived in Folkmore.
It would take him some time to trust whoever wanted to engage him in a conversation given his paranoia and natural distrust of everyone around him. He would likely end up spending a night in his tiny bottle bedroom but at least there was jalapeno poppers and potato skins with ranch to dip them in for him to eat while he contemplated how to get out of this place. By the next day, having eaten and getting a good night’s sleep, he was closer to being at the point where he was ready to talk.
Message In A Bottle
She thinks of leaving the message there, to wallow in her own aimless misery inside the bottle.
Except it's not all the comforting, is it. The truth alone rarely is.
still hurts, though.
It comes much later. When she's exhausted all her attempts of getting out. When her own thoughts of loss have become far too much to ignore.
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April O'Neil | Rise of the TMNT | Familiar | OTA
[The moment April finds herself in a bottle, she tries to break it with her bat. As you do. She does not have the mental tolerance or bandwidth for this crap, and once she finds she can't get out (her bat is like a matchstick, tok-tok-tok) she just crumples and has herself an inch-high meltdown.
As you do.
Fortunately nobody witnesses that part. She hits the family chat to say she's missing but fine and Thirteen is up to some bullshit again (in the wake of so many ofthem going missing? No, she's accounted for, just pissed) and then settles in with arms folded to see what happens next. Maybe Thirteen just decided she needed a timeout for said meltdown. So maybe she should just nap.
Her relic is cheerfully sending out a message though:]
How do you help people you care about when they keep throwing their lives away?
(ooc: If she gets out she's making a break for it. But eventually she'll be returned to the glass once it's clear there is no getting around this, so... a conversation can still happen, it'll just be mildly delayed, lmao)
B - LOL Nope
[The second she gets poured into a drink, mind, she is refusing to play this stupid game and flailing her little arms over the side of the glass and parkouring to freedom. This is ill-advised. Everything is gigantic, there are glasses getting thunked down all over the bar and it's a looong way to the floor, so she's probably going to hook onto someones' clothing and shimmy down that way.
Maybe you were in the glass with her, blinking as she goes bye! No offense, it's not personal. Or you feel a tiny tug on your clothing as she hitches a ride. Or you might get your eye drawn to the bright flicker of her bat as she tries to navigate this chaos and find her way to the door or at the very least someone familiar.
Or maybe you're watching the shades pay more attention to the tiny skittering bug that is April O'Neil, and one of them has just lifted a foot to squish her. Which, you know. Rude.]
B
But when he saw the shades shift around, he finally turned to get a better look and - Oh, no! ]
M-Miss April! Watch out!
[ He goes for a diving save, trying to cover her with his hands, even if it means he gets stomped on his back or tail! ]
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Otono-Tachibana Makie | Blade of the Immortal | Familiar
[Makie holds court in the corner, one leg hitched up in the booth and playing her shamisen. Specifically because Kagehisa has always enjoyed her playing; it brought him peace, and as he's one of the shades currently accompanying her--all thin, distant men and women dressed in 18th century Japanese clothing--why not attempt to send him to rest? She knows he's not real. Neither are the rest of them. Not even the Rin shade that has flickered into existence in the past hour, watching her with a look that shifts between guilt and accusation. (On point, that.)
She hasn't looked for an exit because this feels strangely fitting and she doesn't much care, all things considered, but she hasn't noticed she's fading yet, either. Perhaps soon she'll take a break because her fingers are starting to hurt, but for now... it feels like she's just borrowing a moment from her past, and she's more than fine with that.]
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He doesn't realize the music is from Makie initially, but once he notices, he lets it distract him, scooting his chair a little closer to hear it better. He hasn't noticed she's starting to fade, either, but... give him a minute, he'll catch on. Doesn't help that he's probably fading, too.]
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what if i just
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Darth Maul (CRAU) | Star Wars| Familiar | Current character
Maul pulled the hood over his head and huddled down into his cloak when he saw what sort of place he’d ended up in now, doing his best just to blend into the shadows. Ghosts of the past were nothing new to him, not with what he’d experienced over the years. At least these ones couldn’t physically hurt him like those in the past had. Still, he had very good idea of what was expected of him, not that he was anymore keen to talk about his feelings than he usually was.
Some of the ghosts were expected: two Zabraks that were yellow in coloration, one of them big and one of them small; a tall woman with chalk-white skin and black tattoos, easy to mark as a Nightsister for those that had met Morgan and Merrin in Folkmore; and a blue-eyed bearded Jedi in the form of one Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Others not so much: a man dressed up like the Grim Reaper with two large shotguns that dissipated and reappeared at will, a tall blonde man with red eyes that had cat-like pupils, and a small chubby pre-teen boy with a small pair of pale white horns that were almost Zabrak-like in quality right at his hairline.
Maul sulked in the corner for a while until he began to lose his coloration and then let out a resigned sigh. Whoever was passing nearby would be dragged towards his spot at a table in the corner as if their feet were skidding on a patch of ice no matter how hard they tried to resist. “Sit down and stay a while,” Maul said, making the words sound more like an order than a request. Look, his people skills had never been the greatest and he wasn’t about to change that now. “It appears we are to talk about our feelings once again.” He laced his fingers together and perched his chin on the top of them, staring at the other person with unblinking eyes. “Would you like to go first or shall I?”
Message In A Bottle
Maul was irritated that neither his lightsaber nor his abilities with the Force had been able to break him out of this tiny glass prison. After ranting, raving, and roaring he eventually calmed back down. Clearly, he wasn’t meant to get out of here just by physical means alone. So instead he sat back down on the ground, folded his legs beneath him, and began to meditate instead to calm down. That was the point that the message from his Relic went out.
I love and miss my husband with everything that is inside me. - The true thoughts and feelings of one Darth Maul Reyes
He wouldn’t deny it if someone responded back, no matter how irritated he was at the text message going out in the first place, for Maul wasn’t shy to talk about the husband he’d left behind in Trench before he’d come here to Folkmore. It felt better than keeping it wrapped up in his hearts like it was a shameful secret, which it never would be for Maul.
Ultron | MCU | Myth | Current character
There was a distinct disadvantage when it came to being an A.I. and that was being unable to get drunk. Ultron desperately wished he could right about now as he saw the shades of his past in the bar. Some would be familiar, being Avengers that were in Folk or had been at one time like Tony Stark. Others would have never been there like Bruce Banner and the peculiar maroon robot called Vision.
Ultron would be immensely unhappy at seeing these figures, but like many people, he did not want to talk about them. Instead, he sat down in the corner and folded his arms like a petulant teenager who didn't want to be noticed. That was going to be hard given his distinct nine foot tall appearance, complete with red eyes, horns, and claws. Those red eyes were currently on Tony, the shade shifting between Tony in the Iron Man suit and in a casual every day look with a Black Sabbath T-shirt and jeans on. "Okay, what's the magic words to get out of here?" He rumbled out in that distinctive voice of his. "Open Sesame?"
Message In A Bottle
Being still so young chronologically, when Ultron encountered an unusual situation he never had before, it was easy for him to become fascinated as his natural curiosity took over. Being trapped in some curved glass prison was just the thing to do that. Rather than grow angry, which was usually a given with how often he tended to could fly off the handle, Ultron was more than happy to spend countless minutes or even hours on end analyzing every square inch of the glass for any microscopic fractures or weaknesses he could exploit. As he did this, his Relic sent out a message.
I wish I could know for certain if my dads thought that I was just a massive disappointment and not at all what they had planned to create. - The true thoughts and feelings of one Ultron
…Yeah, daddy issues were a given and ran the family since he’d been created by Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. He wasn’t going to be happy with that message getting sent out and it might have been that rather than being stuck in the first place that finally got him to throw one of his usual temper tantrums.
Aunamee | Original | Myth/TDM
[The man at the bar looks impeccable and haggard all at once, like a pristine lightbulb with mold growing around the edges. He wears all white, this contradictory man, and not one hair is out of place, not even the hair that has recently parted to reveal two white, curled horns on the top of his head. Something about his eyes, however, looks wrong, a curious mix between hunter and hunted, blinking infrequently, darting and then settling, observing each and every person who enters the bar. His suit is perfectly tailored and perfectly pressed, and yet there's a tension underneath it, deep within his muscles. Twisting and churning. Hungry.
A sharpened knife sits on the counter in front of him. He taps his white-gloved fingers against the blade. ]
I don't have any regrets, dear stranger.
[Is he lying? Formless shadows lap at his feet and underneath his fingertips, but perhaps those belong to someone else. ]
But I'm willing to unburden you from yours.
[He purses his lips. The next words come practically at a whisper. ]
Isn't that kind of me?
[ooc: Please check out Aunamee's opt-out for themes of sadism and mental illness. In addition, he has imperfect telepathy and precognition, which means that it sometimes works and it sometimes doesn't. Let me know how much mind-reading is okay!]
Aunamee!
[Altair's appearance on the other hand was a disheveled mess. It looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, which to be fair he hadn't but as a mage he didn't need sleep anymore. He had paint stains on his left hand from when he tried painting earlier to take his mind off of everything. It didn't work and somehow he found himself in a bar, not that different from a tavern back home, which brough up even more painful memories. Loneliness, regret, guilt, Altair was an endless buffet for the mob of shades around him and the soft purple glow in his eyes as his magic resonated with his regret dimmed as he lost color at started to fade.
The shades around him were interesting. There were a few that took on a more solid appearance; his mother and sister, Arrakis, Skylar, however Altair had failed countless souls and the majority of them stayed as shadows. As they grew more solid there was a dark, rippling nature to them, like their shadows were underwater. The tiny star like lights inside them grew brighter and a faint echo of music could be heard from each shade, each song different from the other. Altair ran his clawed hand through his hair with a heavy sigh and silent plea. Just stop. I already know I failed them.
He shot Aunamee a tired glare, a bit life returning in the sharp spark of his glowing eyes with his hint of anger. He was also a myth and the black feathery spikes that ran down arms bristled slightly when he called him dear stranger. There was something unsettling about it, coming from someone who looked like they were observing everyone. He pushed aside his unease with a scoff.]
Sure you don't. Give it a few months and I'm sure this place will dredge some up for you to remember.
[Kind? He had been used enough lately and his thoughts were venomous. His fangs started to materialized with his quiet anger and his glowing eyes burned brighter for a moment before the shades sapped his energy again.]
Not if you expect to get something out of it. So what do you want?
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I love his soul song!
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bolin | legend of korra | familiar
[ Look. Who wouldn't feel lonely after freshly arriving here? Everything's new and confusing! None of the familiarity of home! And Bolin really doesn't know his way around, so stumbling into this random bar is on a top ten list of most likely things to happen to him eventually.
Gotta say: not his favorite hole in the wall little place. Buuuut not the worst one he's ever been in. So that breaks even. The vanishing door... yeah okay fine, that puts it down a few pegs. It's fine. It'll be fine! If he acts like that's normal and he totally isn't creeped out by it, he'll clearly earn the trust of the locals. The... ghostly locals...
Bolin doesn't seem to draw too many shades himself, as he lingers. He's not prone to negativity, doesn't tend to get hung up on regret all that much. Mostly he tries to sit with his fun little drink and awkwardly move away if he feels like some creepy shade is getting too close. Whether by serendipity or specifically because he sees someone starting to look a little far gone in their own seat, he does in fact wind up right next to them. ]
Haha heyyyy, so. I mean the vibe in here, right? just a liiiittle [ and dropping to a stage whisper, ] spooky. Having no door is supposed to be a fire hazard, right? Not looking good for the next inspection.
b. message in a bottle.
[ Oh maybe he was too positive too soon. Or some evil sorceror overheard him saying it was spooky in here and cast a terrible curse on him. Anything is possible, which means everything is possible. ]
Aw, what?! This is so not okay! [ But no one can hear his complaint... that's even more unfair. And he's not even sure what he's doing in here! Spirit world establishment. It's gotta be.
Admittedly, having a nice soft place to sit while he wishes he could glass-bend does make it better than any of the times he's been in jail. The message that goes out, signed 'the true thoughts and feelings of one Bolin,' reads: ]
sometimes i feel like i don't bring enough to the table for my brother, you know? like, i just want him to be able to relax and have a little fun! not have to take care of everything super serious all the time.
why am i so bad at NOT getting myself into stupid situations? i'm literally stuck in a bottle right now! like, HOW? it's unreal!
c. wildcard.
[ Up for whatever honestly. Bolin's new, but he's a real out-and-about kind of guy! He wants to make connections, get to know the terrain, scout out any kinda familiar faces. Especially that last one, to whatever avail. You know how it is.
It's a strange world when going around talking to people and spirits is what earns you that sweet, sweet capital. It's like the universe going "hey Bolin, sorry you got kidnapped to some other world, but here's a silver lining with your name written all over it." And he can't complain about that. Roof over his head, food, water, all that stuff.
He's gonna find sooooo much important information and solve the whole mystery and Mako's gonna be like "wow great job little bro" about it. Another adventure under the belt, etc.
... but mayhaps first another agenda. ]
Hey! [ We just out here in a public space waving one hand. It's him, he's the one saying that. Bolin needs to address the general populace. ] Anybody got a few minutes to earn some mutual spoons by talking with a, not to brag or anything, charming young man? I'm saving up to reunite with my beloved fire ferret, so no time to waste, people!
[ He can't buy his way home okay! But from what he's heard he could maybe swing trading in for Pabu and that would fill a void in his heart! ]
wildcard
It's difficult not to have ones attention cause by such an earnest request, and he looks over from the fruit vendor's stall, head tilted slightly, golden hair catching in the light of midday. He is wearing a simple tunic of white, dark trousers, supple leather boots. He looks like he's stepped out of a fantasy, and well, at least that's honest.
He arches a delicate eyebrow at the man's explanation and excuses himself from the stall's proprietor.]
Eager to find your fiery companion, are you? I can spare a few moments.
[He strides as though he's used to commanding a room, or a market square, but he means to do neither here today.]
Well come. You are a new arrival, then, yes?
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Jean-Phillipe | Marvel Comics | New Character
NumberBar[02] WEAPON in a Bottle
one. boooooo
Is it a trick of this place? That's the first thought that comes into her mind and it echoes into his. ]
Is this real?
[ Does she even want it to be? Whether she does or not that's certainly his familiar coat, his uniform. Her own uniforms are tucked in a closet back in the apartment she calls home here. Instead she wears a simple lavender sundress that stops at the knees, black stockings, and a crimson suede jacket resting on her shoulders. Sliding up next to him at the magically appearing bar she just stares for a moment before speaking, voice sharp and yet with that hint of emotionless he'll probably recognize more than any other here would. The echo of what she gave up for him. ]
I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to play Robin Hood.
one. did you miss me?
never
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