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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.
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"They knew to keep emotional distance with me. It was just a job for them too. Nobody gets too close to the lab rats when they know they're going to be dissected later." And she's plenty aware they'd probably have picked her apart like a rat if they ever thought they could transfer her powers to more desirable soldiers.
But Bill. "Bill had always been far kinder. Cared about what happened to me, advocated for me. He had been a friend of my father's, back when they worked together at SHIELD."
The liquid displays the scene of them first meeting: the kind scientist approaching carefully, Ava seated quietly atop her bed in the orphanage. Him offering the bear, her flicker of pain and disappointment at being incapable of grasping it until he urged her to try again. The hesitant smile on Ava's face as she manages to hold the bear in her arms.
Later, Ava screaming out as guards drag her away from him, reaching out in distress for help that never comes.
"He brought me there thinking they would help. And unfortunately... they were the only ones with the technology and resources available to do so. It wasn't like we could easily leave. Until they were exposed as Hydra and then... Bill took me in. Continued researching on his own, trying to find a cure."
The scene shifts to when she's older, Ava begging him for how much longer she has left. Weeks, maybe. Her threatening to kidnap Scott's young daughter for some sort of leverage, ransom against the Pyms to get the lab back. Bill firmly telling her that he's supported her despite everything she's done, but that if she crossed such a line, touched the little girl, that he would no longer help. Ava in the present looks just as scolded as the Ava in the memory. Before she turns away, declaring she'll find another way.
Ava sighs out. "I wasn't going to hurt her."
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Dex continued to watch the snippets of memory and once again he was strongly reminded of Dr. Mercer with the kind of position Bill had in Ava's life. That one person who cared about people like them and didn't care that they were broken or had done such terrible things in their past. Once again, he wished his mom had gotten to see him grow up and use her advice for so many years. "It's good you had someone around to tell you that was a bad idea and a line you shouldn't cross. Me? I wouldn't have cared if you wanted to kidnap a kid. But people like us need someone to tell us no." Without that type of guidance from Julie, Dex had spiraled down into the arms of the first person he'd found who would guide him and never tell him no instead: Fisk.
The liquid rippled, showing another memory. This time it was Dex's turn He was about eight years old and sitting down on one side of a room while a doctor with a notebook in her lap looked at him. "Hi, Benjamin. My name is Dr. Mercer. Before we begin talking, I hear you like using your hands, so I want you to have these pencils so you can draw while we talk." He seemed very wary as he watched Dr. Mercer, a bit like a puppy that had been kicked too many times by abusive owners and hoped he wasn't going to get hurt again by someone new. She approached him, a warm smile on her face as she set down the paper and pencils before turning around to the chair she had been in on the other side of the room.
"Dex."
She blinked and looked back at him as she got back over to her seat. "I'm sorry?"
He paused for a moment like he was afraid he shouldn't have corrected an adult even if it was for an important reason. His next response was quiet and he didn't look up from the paper on the table in front of him to meet Dr. Mercer's eyes. "My name is Dex."
He waited for some sort of reprimand or scolding. Instead, all she did was patiently say, "Oh, my mistake. Dex it is. That's a good name. Makes you very unique." That got Dex to look back up at her, his interest clearly having been grabbed by the fact she was being so nice and understanding with him. "Well, Dex, if you want, you can call me by my first name, Eileen." She then went on to start the therapy session.
At first the boy still seemed to have that wary edge as he mostly just listened while the nice doctor talked to him as he drew on the piece of paper he'd been given like she'd requested. Eventually, he started to open up, trusting her with his biggest secret: that the death of his coach hadn't been an accident but deliberate murder. He clearly expected judgment or revulsion from her and was confused when instead she showed understanding that didn't seem faked at all.
By the time the memory started to fade out as Dr. Mercer taught him the phrase that he'd use for the rest of his life to try and empathize with people, "That's hard. Really hard," he'd started to smile and was genuinely happy to be talking with the kind doctor, the first person he'd ever really met who understood him.
As it faded back out, Dex's eyes remained fixed on his mother's face until the very end. Then he finally looked back over at Ava. "Even after she died, she was still able to help me. I lasted a long time just by listening to what she left me to keep me on the right track." The coping skills she'd given him had been the only thing that kept Dex from going off the deep end for so long. If he'd been able to find someone else like her in his life, he knew Fisk never would have been able to get his claws into him.
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She nods in agreement, about sometimes needing to be told no by somebody with their best interests in mind. Kept them from digging themselves too far in deep into consequences they couldn't crawl back out of. If she had hurt Cassie, she imagines the Ant family would have been far less forgiving, probably would have left her to die. And she would have deserved it, she's sure. Feels like it's only Janet's mercy that spared her.
Watching the exchange play out, she pays close attention to the calm, measured manner in which the doctor speaks, how she earns his attention and trust little by little. Teaching Dex methods to cope with his instincts, find ways to blend better amongst the people not like him.
"I couldn't imagine how it must have been, to lose the only person that really understood you. And still cared. I think... I think that's why I've been coping so badly here. Without Bill. I just feel lost." Which hurts to say, so she quickly changes the subject. "Do you still draw?"
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"Yeah. The day she told me the cancer was terminal I think I must have cried for a full hour..." He said, lapsing into silence for a moment. "It wasn't really ethical but I know she ended up loving me as much as I loved her by the end." Maybe even more just given the makeup of Dex's emotions only let him love to a certain extent. He was certain Eileen hadn't meant for that to happen but given she'd watched Dex grow up under her care and go from a potential serial killer in the making to a young man who would be able to actually function without her around meant she'd seen both his lowest and highest points, especially ones where he was vulnerable with her and no one else. It would have been hard to remain impartial after all that.
Then Ava changed the subject and Dex's painful thoughts turned from the woman who had been more of a mother to him than his own birth mother had been, given the length of time she'd been around in his life. "No. Though maybe I should take it up again."
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"It's... extremely. Tough. Being on either side of it. Bill knew I was dying, had to deliver the prognosis to me. Keep doing checkups, watching the decline as I got progressively worse. It hurt so much for both of us. That I couldn't get better, no matter what he tried. But it." Ava pauses, watching Bill shake his head while delivering the results of the latest test to her. Expression going from strained hope against the odds, to immediate defeat. The way he tries to pull her into his arms, but she's barely there to even hold, her entire body flickering in and out. "He's why I didn't just give up." She didn't want Bill thinking that her dying was due to his failure.
She wipes a bit at her eyes. "You should," she encourages. "It's a nice talent."
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"I'm glad neither of you gave up. That he cared enough about you to keep trying to help you even to the very end." Sometimes, for people like the two of them, just knowing at least one person out there cared about them and their wellbeing was enough, a comfort they couldn't find anywhere else.
Apparently, Kuma Lisa must have decided that the two of them had completed the requirements to talk enough about being the 'bigger person' to warrant getting turned back to their usual sizes because there was a sudden vibration in the glass they were in that signified they were about to grow much larger.
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But Ava's forced to shove the thought to the back of her mind to deal with later, giving a bit of a 'agh!' sound as she grows far too large for the glass, the whole thing toppling over as she lands full size atop the bar counter. She looks slightly dazed, but at least the wave of nausea fades quickly.
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"Well, that was.....weird." That was about all that Dex could say about the experience of being shrunk, trapped in a glass bottle, and then set afloat on an alcoholic drink with someone else to alternately view their memories. It would have sounded like a fever dream if someone had described it to him. "Let's not do that again anytime soon." Though if he'd been forced to undergo it with anyone, he was glad it had been Ava. She understood him in a way he found he liked a lot, though he was still processing why that was.
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"Absurd," Ava agrees, thinking of Scott and Hope and their whole shrinking ant tricks. And tosses her forearm over her eyes, letting out a delirious sort of laugh.
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Dex looked over and saw Kuma Lisa tending bar. "Can I get a drink after all that?" Unfazed by the entire situation, she poured him about three fingers worth of whiskey. He swallowed it down all in about three gulps before hopping down off the bar.
"Looks like there's a way out of this place," he told Ava. The exit had been made obvious and he hoped this wouldn't be like the train, where going through one door simply led to another hard situation to overcome.
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Then clears her throat, following his gaze to the exit indicated. "Well." What do you say after all that? She swings her legs over the counter, then hops down. "Could've been worse. I knew a woman that was shrunk down so small she was trapped for decades."
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Then he paused. "But if I was going to go through that with anyone, I'm glad that it was with you." Because he felt he could trust Ava and be vulnerable around her in a way that he didn't feel was possible with many people here. They understood each other on a level that he hadn't found with many other people even during the course of his entire life, let alone here in Folkmore.
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"Same," she responds after a moment. "And you don't have to worry about me telling anyone else."
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"I appreciate that." He really did mean it because he knew that Ava kept her word. She hadn't told anyone else about the things she'd experienced with him and Dex was glad for it.
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Ava shudders. And then hurries out while she still can.
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"Hey, did Thirteen hand anything to you before you left?" She'd given Dex something, but in his hurry to go afte Ava, he hadn't even bothered to look down and see what it was. He was surprised to see it was his old deck of playing cards from home in his hand now. He knew it was the exact deck he'd kept in his safe and not any others by how worn the outside cover was and in the way he remembered it being.
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At his question, she startles in surprise to realize that yes, she indeed is gripping something rather tightly in her hand that she hadn't even noticed slipped into it on her way out. A photograph, that she turns over with a shaky hand, recognizing the faces immediately with a pang of longing. Ones that she hadn't seen for a very, very long time. "O...oh."
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Dex looked over her shoulder at what she was holding in her hand. It was easy to tell what the picture was of. "That's you and.....your mom and dad?" He asked, making it a question even if it was pretty clear from looks alone that the adults in it were Ava's parents. He didn't really know what to say, already knowing the hurt and pain that Ava had gone through ever since she'd lost them in such a traumatic fashion. So instead he said the first thing that came to mind which might not hurt so much. "Ah, there's the three pigtails thing again."
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"That's-" a small hitch in her voice. She swallows down roughly, tries again. "Yes. My parents. The day of... of the accident." She turns the photograph over in her hand, to see if there's any date, notations, anything. "Don't remember anyone even taking a picture of us." But memories are strange and fickle, degrade over time, buried underneath the layers of grief. She remembers so much detail of the event, and barely much surrounding it. Maybe somebody had. The reality of it doesn't seem to matter as much as the evidence in her hands now. She brushes her fingers lightly over their faces, trying not to damage the surface with her claws.
And then she laughs, in agreement. "You can tell where my complete lack of interest in fashion came from, too." She hadn't remembered, until now, how her father had kept wearing that same shirt despite the stains.
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"Looks like you've got another personal touch for your trailer now," he told her. Look, neither of them were sentimental sorts, so it was nice that at least they could get something they really needed even if they hadn't even known it was something they wanted in the first place.
"I think you should get another one of those little cardigans," he said lightly, hoping it would make her laugh or at least smile. He liked it when he could make Ava smile.
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She glances back over her shoulder at Dex, nose wrinkling in amused indignation. "Live out in the desert, what do I need a cardigan for." Except yes, she always dressed in long sleeves and barely any skin showing... so what? Maybe a lightweight one wouldn't be so bad.
"What'd you get, then?" she points out.
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He slipped the cards out of the deck, shuffling them with such a ease that he didn't even have to look at the deck as he did so to make sure he didn't drop any of them, and then fanned them out towards Ava.
"Pick a card," he told her as if he was a street magician. Was he serious? Oh yes, definitely. He wanted to show off a little and this had been one of the ways he'd honed his skills growing up. Look, being in a psychiatric facility could be dreadfully dull most of the time, so it often meant making his own fun.
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"I don't know any card games besides... go fish?" Mostly because games typically require more than one participant. And nobody had ever taught her solitaire, or given a deck to do so.
She tilts her head in confused amusement as he spread the cards out, recognizing it as the start of some sort of trick. Because she had watched Scott practice all sorts of them while spying on him and the Pyms. She plucks one off to the side, after a moment of deliberation. Carefully holds it up so only she can see. Three of hearts. "Now what?"
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