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December 2022 Test Drive Meme
DECEMBER 2022 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. You can choose to have your TDM thread be your introduction thread upon acceptance or start fresh. Each TDM will provide a scenario for how characters arrive in-game that particular month.
Playing TDMs will allow characters to immediately obtain canon items from homes especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.
Current players are allowed to have in-game characters react to TDMs via the Network or make a log with the prompts. Current players are always encouraged to tag new people on the TDM!
TDM threads can be used for spoon spending at any time by characters accepted into the game.
Content Warnings: being followed, potential violence.
what could've been lights
weird but fucking beautiful
what could've been lights
One minute you’re falling through the sky, and the next you’re sitting on a cold bench in the middle of the woods. It’s wintertime, but luckily you’re not surrounded by snowdrifts; a bitingly cold fog instead drifts between the trees. You don’t know it yet, but you’ve arrived at the edge of Exile.
The bench you’re on is in the center of a clearing that probably isn’t natural judging by the fact that around you are dozens of miniature buildings. These buildings may resemble places from your homeworld, or places as described or depicted in your favourite pieces of media. They are all just miniatures, but they are lit up and the glow from their tiny windows is warm.
At least, until you move from the bench. When you do the lights stutter several times before they go out for good, leaving you in darkness. But wait, not completely - there on one of the miniature streets is a small glowing orb about the size of a marble. Better than nothing?
Look around and you will be able to see more lights. These are other Star Children, either carrying their own small lights or waking up in their own miniature villages. You can find them either wandering in the fog, or maybe going full Godzilla on those poor buildings. However it happens, you will find someone else so that you are not alone.
But as you move towards this other Star Child you might not feel alone. To put it bluntly, it feels like someone (or something!) is watching you.
Once you’ve met up with someone, it’s probably safer to try and find your way out of the woods. The darkness presses in on every side of you, and the frigid fog is certainly not helping matters. You may well find yourself edging closer to your companion, or talking to them to try and fill the eerie silence.
Then, off to one side, there is light. Soft, diffused by the fog, there are two (or more) glowing circles floating high up. Even if at first you thought they were lamps, it quickly becomes evident that they are eyes. The moment you realise that, you are struck with an irrational terror and the urge to flee. This is extremely dangerous: the second you run the one light you do have will go out, plunging you into total darkness. You will definitely get lost, and could be injured very easily. The giant floating eyes will follow you no matter how quickly you run. If you can fly, you will find no matter how high you go you will not be able to break the treeline, and the eyes will continue to follow you.
There are weapons to be found sticking out of the frozen ground. These are unenchanted items, and you can pull them free with some effort if you choose to try and fight the creature following you. The creature will not actually engage - the eyes always stay just far enough away that you cannot see it clearly, and you certainly can’t hurt it. Your terror and confusion will only grow the more you try to fight, and it is possible you’ll hurt anyone who comes after you.
Your companion is the only thing that can keep you from bolting into the darkness. Their voice and/or touch can work to calm you down. You’ll still be frightened, but you will be able to think. (Of course, if you attack them with a sword or something, this might prove to be a little harder!)
weird but fucking beautiful
If you stay put with your companion you will see what has been following you: an enormous fog-coloured animal.
It may be a deer, an owl, a cat, a lizard or a fish. It may be something unique to your homeworld. Whatever it is, it is an animal that you have a personal connection to in some way. (This can be as profound as a vision of an animal guide you once had, or as mundane as ‘I did a report on this in third grade.’) This massive animal means you no harm and will even let you pet it.
Your new giant animal friend will lead you first to a chest inside which is an item for each of you from your home world. It will then lead you safely out of the forest before it returns back to the fog.
If you are injured and in need of aid, you will find that where your animal friend has taken you is also home to a collection of round, cheerful flying squirrels. These little guys will take one look at your injuries, squeak with concern, and then fetch you first aid supplies from holes in the trees. They are unconventional nurses, but undeniably helpful!
Content Warnings: potential NSFW scenarios in comments
what I once saw on a screen
what I once saw on a screen
As you acquaint yourself with this strange new world you’ve found yourself in, you will find that sometime, somehow, you’ve wound up with a red string tied around one of your fingers. Strange. Even stranger is that the string trails off into the distance, presumably tied to something else. Clearly the best course of action here is to follow that string to wherever it terminates. Alright, it might not actually be the best, but you will feel a growing compulsion to do just that.
The red string leads you through chilly streets, down icy roads, up over snowy hills. The weather is getting worse as you walk, but turning back doesn’t seem like an option; you really want to get to wherever the string is leading you.
Thankfully, right ahead of you is a tiny little shack of a cabin. You reach it just in time - the weather has become a full fledged winter storm!
Once inside you’ll notice two things: it’s extremely cold, and you are not alone.
Yes, there’s another Star Child in the cabin with you, and what’s more they also have a red string tied around their finger. And both of your strings connect... to a very small knitted blanket.
The cabin has no firewood and no fireplace to burn it in anyway. It has no furniture outside of a toilet and sink in a small attached bathroom. There is a small battery operated lantern, and the blanket. That’s it.
The blanket is just barely big enough to cover two people. If you want to stay warm it looks like you’ll have to get real close!
Of course, you don’t have to. But as with most things in Folkmore, there’s a bit of a catch: the more standoffish or unpleasant you are to the other Star Child trapped with you? The smaller the blanket gets. That’s right, it can shrink right down to the size of a washcloth if you’re not careful!
Conversely, getting close to someone by cuddling or even just by opening up and talking about yourselves will make the blanket grow. When you open up emotionally or physically you can wind up with a luxuriously warm and cozy blanket that you can wrap around yourselves with ease.
If you get very close to create some, er, body heat? Just try not to leave the blanket all crusty, okay?
Re: Rezo the Red Priest | Slayers | Myth
Shrouded in darkness, Esteban can't see who it is that has spoken, only stumbles across the miniature Naming Tree, its jaded leaves prickling at the tips of his fingers. He plucks a marble from it, cupping his hand around the warm buttery light, as he turns to try and see who it was that had spoken to him.
"Oh!" Excitement shimmers down his limbs as Esteban raises the diminutive sun, the shifting of his toes growing noticeably loud. He's learned his lesson, and the half-elf grins wide as he welcomes his old friend.
"Hey, Rezo!" Casually dropping his name, a snicker rising into the huffs of his breath as his companion dances closer. His footsteps are surprisingly even, and though he makes some noise as he moves, the sound comes across as smooth, and deliberate. Someone trained in their own awareness rather than fumbling about.
"Did-- didja grow horns?" He asks, baffled, tone shifting to brightly ask his question. There's a brief pause that follows before he adds "they suit you!" without even a bite to the words.
no subject
At the mention of horns, Rezo raises a hand, faltering as he resists the self-conscious impulse to feel them out. He’d felt it when they’d come in and even now he’s aware of them as a weight on his head, but he hasn’t figured out the shape of them yet.
At least this stranger doesn’t seem to be disturbed. “Well, thank you,” Rezo says, unsure if he should explain- or even how to explain- the bizarre astral journey he seems to have gone on that had the horns (and the tail) as a side effect.
He decides to shift subjects to his current, most pressing concern. “I’m afraid,” he admits, “I’m not sure where I am right now.”
no subject
"D'you think this is a dream?" the half-elf asks, wondering aloud. "I mean-- I followed a fox here, an' you're here, so--" he pauses, a bit of weak laughter on his lungs as he adds "I guess I miss you more th'n I thought."
Which... strikes harder than he would have wanted it to. Of course this is a dream-- it has to be, right? Because last he'd seen Rezo had been on the VoidTrecker, nearly three Floods ago.
Maybe it's like Jema'grethy. Maybe he'd wanted this so badly-- to reach out to his friends on the train, that he'd managed a weak, temporary tether onto someone. And-- Rezo knew the most about his magic, his world-- it would make sense that he'd be the one to catch him, even without meaning to. He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts aside, as he focuses on his friend once again, joy returning to the lilt of his voice.
"I'm glad I get t' see you." A snicker accompanies his words, laughter bubbling onto the syllables. "Ev'n 'f I didn't expect that. When d'you get to shapeshift?" There's a short, pretend huffy breath as he adds "better be after I left," he teasingly mock-threatens.
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“It could be,” Rezo admits. “It’s certainly strange enough to be one. But…”
While he supposes this could be an elaborate dying dream, with bizarre ideas such as foxes that ‘arrange’ you as a ‘myth,’ tiny cities built in the depths of winter forests, and strangers that greet you as old friends- and yet it really doesn’t feel like one.
“It’s too vivid,” he decides. “I can feel the earth under my feet, the bite of the winter air, hear the wind flying through the branches. But even if I am mistaken, there is little to do but proceed as if this were real, and await our awakening.”
Rezo’s tail flicks, stirring up some loose snow, as he continues. “As for my shape, I hope it won’t change any further. These changes are more than enough.” At least this form feels- apart from the horns, tail, teeth, etc- close to his original body. While he’d greatly enjoyed having a living body again, more than he’d ever imagined he could miss such a thing, taking the form of a child had been uncomfortable. This is much better, except for his eyes-
Rezo’s brow knits, his face unconsciously furrowing into a frown.
His eyes are sealed shut again.
no subject
Esteban's never been the smartest person in the room, even if he were alone in it, so he'll just go along with that. It seems like the best option, and he really doesn't want to think too hard about this all. The fox that was not-Red. The other world, the other self that he saw, carrying on in his place. Is this a dream? Or is this reality?
Either way; it's his reality, right here, right now.
He grins and wavers on his feet, letting his weight scratch at the soil as he does in the little cues he's picked up for Rezo's benefit. Shakes the miniature tree a bit as he points out to it.
"Wish I could show you, though. It's one of the Moon Mountains, here!" he crows, delighted at this. "Judgin' by the tree, it's Aspenacres; it's known for its orchards!" Carelessly, the half-elf raises a hand to tug at Rezo's sleeve, in an unvoiced guide if he wants.
"Moon Mountains 're built in circles 'round the trees, so here, we're in the middl' of town! Main street's on your right from here, an' on the other side of the tree."
A miniature it may be, but the Naming Trees are quite vast on their own, and this one reaches almost all the way up to Esteban's ribs. The houses are dwarfed by it, knee-high at most, and curving around the tree's plaza, giving them a bit more width to move along from here on out. Streets branch out like the spokes of a wheel, with the two main ones being far wider than the other six, guiding travelers easily to the town square and the central offices, as well as the hospital if there ever is a need.
"It's a bit weird t' see them all flat like that. No stairs an' such. But good for us! That'd just be a trippin' hazard waitin' t' happen." He chuckles, his mood high just from being able to show this to his friend. It's not much; but he did speak with Rezo of his home before, and the miniature is, in its own way, an easy way to show it to the blind priest.
srry, he's a little Out Of It from the, uh, Everything.
And yet, here he is, and here the seal is.
The tug at his sleeve drags him out of his reverie, and despite the gentleness it makes Rezo twitch violently, coming to himself.
“Sorry,” he says, realizing his reaction was probably unpleasant. “Aspenacres, you say?” It’s not a term he’s familiar with, or Moon Mountains for that matter. Rezo steps cautiously, trying not to crush any delicate miniatures, up to the little tree he can hear the man shaking, and reaches out to touch the tiny branches and even tinier leaves for himself.
“...I thought this was a replica of Flagoon,” Rezo says absently. How long has it been since he’s stood in the presence of the holy tree? Since he strolled the secret pathways of the Miasma Forest? Years, he supposes. Many, many long years.
“Strange that someone would build such a thing in a place like this.”
no subject
"Nah, it's okay," he brushes the apology off. "I'll warn y' next time!"
Anyways, the mention that Rezo thought it was a different city makes it far more interesting to Esteban, who beams at his friend, to learn even just a tiny bit more from him of his world and cultures.
"Tell me 'bout Flagoon?" He's immediately quick to ask, before realizing that... Rezo might not know where to start. He's not searching for what his friend had seen; he knows that's impossible. So then!
"Tell me 'bout the smells? What kinda cloth did they wear? What d'd the sun feel like where they lived? Did they speak a diff'rent language? What kinda foods did they eat? What kind 'f stories they shared?" He snickers again. "I know you c'n make a great narrator!" he adds, still seeing the shadows dance against the walls of the performance carriage.
His feet indicate his movement as he listens, the tiny clink of glass-blown leaves whispering in his wake, before he sits, quite gently, onto a nearby bench-- the same one Rezo had deserted himself.
no subject
“You’ve never heard of Flagoon?” That seems remarkably strange to Rezo, given that it’s one of the most famous features in the entire Lyzeille Empire. Then again, when his own social circles have always run toward the priestly, he sometimes misjudges what is common knowledge and what isn’t. Besides, maybe this man is from Elmekia or Dils or somewhere reasonably far from Lyzeille.
So with an absent nod, Rezo acquiesces to the strange young man’s questions and begins to recite the various details he can remember.
The smells? “Flagoon is the Holy Tree of Sairaag, and wherever you walk in Sairaag, you can smell the leaves and the sap. In the spring, the air is thick with pollen. You will always hear someone sneezing.” Rezo smiles a little, recalling the silly detail.
What kind of clothing do they wear? “I couldn’t tell you much about the clothing. I suppose most people dress… normally. But there are plenty of priests and sorcerers who live there, and dress accordingly.” Ones who dress much like him, all dramatic robes and shoulder guards.
What does the sun feel like? “Large parts of the city are always cool from being in the shade of Flagoon. I suppose that would also affect how people dress.”
What language do they speak? “Sairaag is a human city, so most people speak Common, with the usual Lyzeille dialect.”
What kind of foods do they eat? “It’s much further from the coast than Atlas City, so fresh seafood isn’t as easy to come by. But there’s all sorts of food available. Udon, mutton, potato, pickled radish, miso… There’s an inn where the proprietor makes an exceptional cottage pie.” And now that this man has reminded him, Rezo misses it terribly.
What kind of stories do they share? “As for stories, they tell much the same ones as the rest of the Lyzeille Empire, but unsurprisingly the story of Flagoon itself is the most popular one.” Which he expects this man will want to hear next, but Rezo's thoughts are focused more on the puzzle of this man's identity.
Perhaps he knows this man from the Sorcerer’s Guild. He's said that he thinks Rezo is a good narrator, so maybe he’s heard Rezo’s lectures before. Although, that would make it extremely odd that this man hasn’t heard of Flagoon and Sairaag… As much as he’s afraid it might hurt this person’s feelings, Rezo needs more information more than anything else. He takes a silent breath, and then turns to the man, looking apologetic.
“I hope I have satisfied your curiosity. But now I would like to ask you a question, young man.” Now, how to phrase this tactfully…
“I have been trying to recall, but… I’m afraid I just cannot remember your name or where we met. I’m terribly sorry about this, but I have met a lot of people during my career, you see. Can you remind me how we know one another?”
no subject
He's careful not to let out a sound just yet. Rezo is being odd, and he doesn't want to worry his friend by being callous on top of things, so if he keeps quiet... Actually, no, Rezo would hear that, wouldn't he? Esteban pushes a light "Oh, I see!~" that shares a bit more enthusiasm than he truly feels.
There's a definite pang at the question, a sharp take of breath, before Esteban frowns openly, weirded out by it. Rezo had always been able to tell; somehow judging from his footfall or his voice. For a moment, he thinks there's something horribly, dreadfully wrong, before Esteban blinks and realizes how stupid he's being.
Of course Rezo can't recognize him! It's been moons, and it's not like he'd gotten a warning that Esteban was there-- was here. Is wherever it is that they ended up at. And Rezo can't see him.
"Oh-- OH!" Enthusiasm returns in spades, glad as he is to be able to fix this. His voice lilts loudly again, eager and bright as he returns. "It's Esteban! I'm Esteban!" Of course he is. Snickers lace through his words as he goes on.
"We were friends on the VoidTrecker! How long's it been for you? In my world, we've gotten two floods an' a half, so..." He briefly calculates, thinking back on the odd number of days that they shared on the train. "Seveeeeen months? I think?" he ventures a guess. "Somethin' like that?" Still so blissfully unaware.
"I'm glad t' see you 'gain!" he shares openly, grinning wide enough that he's sure Rezo can hear it.
godddd i'm so srry esteban
The VoidTrecker sounds like it could be the name of a boat, albeit a very weird name. Rezo thinks he would remember a name like that, but then again, he’s been on a lot of boats. It’s not his favorite way to travel, but sometimes it’s the best way to get from one place to another. It’s perfectly plausible that at one point he would have been traveling by sea and befriended- or, judging by Esteban’s gregarious attitude, been befriended by- a fellow passenger.
Except.
It’s been a long time since he’s traveled by sea. Considerably longer than seven months. It’s been over ten years.
Which means that it’s quite likely this poor young man is delusional. This isn’t entirely surprising to Rezo. One of the perils of being a household name is that certain kinds of people will sort of… latch onto you in their minds, projecting a relationship which isn’t there. On the other hand, Esteban seems quite lucid (probably more lucid than Rezo himself feels right now), so after a moment of consideration, Rezo remembers another peril of being a household name.
“...When we met, did I ask you for anything?” Rezo asks. “Money, perhaps?”
He’s had a fair few number of impersonators over the years and it’s not at all unlikely that Esteban could have been a victim of some con artist or other.
It's all good! No stress! (Esteban growing more and more delusional, lol)
He hums to openly voice his thinking process, a shallow note that remains for a few seconds before he remembers a bit more details.
"Well, I learned y' were a priest, an' asked you 'bout it! We talked a bit 'bout our worlds, but we didn't get a chance t' go deep into it 'cause we had t' evacuate people from Osiga." There! That's a pretty good summary. Though, Rezo probably remembers it better than Esteban-- is this to check if he's really the Esteban that he'd met several months ago? That makes sense enough.
"I'd never seen holy magic b'fore! Potions an' healin' items 're easy 'nough to get in my world, but actual magic healers? That's pretty rare," he adds a bit distractedly. "An' besides. They'd be in the mage guilds an' not really accessible to ev'ryone." He cheers. Actually; hang on!
"So thanks for helpin' out!" He'd never thanked Rezo for that, had he? It's a sore detail that sticks out to him, but he's thankful enough that he has a chance to now. He'd missed Rezo. He's glad to have this second occasion to talk to him again.
this poor dragon man
Well. Rezo is aware that other worlds exist- was already aware, even before a fox spirit managed to reach through the Sea of Chaos and pull him to this strange land- but to hear someone refer to it so casually is nothing short of startling. It also puts the kibosh on Rezo’s theory that this man is a random victim of an ordinary con artist, especially when this… other Rezo evidently wasn’t using Esteban for anything.
Rezo can’t really accept the thanks- he wasn’t the one who did those things that Esteban refers to.
“...I’m sorry. I think you have me confused with someone else,” Rezo says, settling on something more diplomatic than accusing Esteban of delusion. “I’ve never heard of Osiga, nor have I met anyone from another world before today.”
The idea that there may be another man with his name, face, and occupation, somewhere out there is a difficult one to believe, but for now he’s just going to treat it as though it is the case.
Rezo dealt 9999 psychic damage. It's super effective! XD
"You... don't?" It's carefully voiced, the small gasp of a childlike attempt to reconcile the words. There is hope that clings precariously to the edge of his words, hope that is painfully dashed as soon as Esteban takes another breath.
'Dians. Dead Guardians in a ditch, and all the Swallowed Gods with them. A shudder races through his frame-- Rezo not recognizing him, Rezo answering each question methodically, refusing to give more than the barest bones to what Esteban had asked about, Rezo jumping because he hadn't known Esteban would reach out to him. Rezo that does not know him. Rezo, who has never met him. 'Dians.
'Dians.
The ache for someone who is not here bites deep between his ribs, gnawing, like a voracious beast. His hands clench around the fabric of his pants, before he releases it, smooths it away until another shudder repeats the process. Esteban's voice flutters, weak now, and fragile, as he attempts to think himself out of his thoughts to answer the mage.
"I... Oh! Well, that explains it!" He chuckles lightly, a soft scritching sound indicating when he raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck. He doesn't know how to deal with this. He doesn't know how to deal with this.
So. He is a stranger to his friend. Alright. That's alright. It's not sunshine, it's not joy, but his friend is here, Rezo is here, and-- they're worth it. They're worth it. They're worth it.
He tries to grin, even though it won't be seen, and though his voice is weaker, shuddering through a leadened throat, Esteban stretches a hand out and waves, and pours what he can from his stuttering lungs.
"Well. Hi! I'm Esteban! I'm a half-elf fr'm a diff'rent world, an' I'm a fire dancer back home! I like movement and stories, an' gettin' to know people better, and... Well, 'f you need somethin'. I'm here!"
It's not perfect, and there's a bit of him that still wants to back away and lick his wounds and try to make sense out of this all. But Rezo deserves better than that. Even if this is not his friend, even if this is a stranger wearing his friend's face. Rezo deserves better than that.
He deserves a chance, first and foremost; and maybe Esteban's a bit too weak to give him one right now, but-- he doesn't want it to remained a charred landscape forever.
no subject
The smallness of Esteban’s voice makes one thing clear, something that Rezo doesn’t have to see the expression on Esteban’s face or the shudder that runs through the other man in order to understand: Rezo has hurt him. It hasn’t been an act of intentional malice on Rezo’s part, but nor can he say he regrets it. He’d simply felt that he should clear up this misunderstanding, but in the process he’s hurt this person.
(Unfortunate, how that’s become a habit.)
And because this person is a stranger, and because Rezo himself is overwhelmed with the circumstances he’s found himself in- really, the circumstances he’s found himself in for the past several years- well. He’s at somewhat of a loss as to how best proceed.
In the end it’s Esteban who takes control of the situation by the simple act of reintroducing himself. Rezo absorbs the new information, particularly the casual way in which Esteban admits to being a half-elf, with genuine curiosity, and considers his own response.
“...Hello, Esteban,” Rezo says carefully. “I am Rezo, a simple priest of Cepheid. I am human, myself-” He pauses. His tail twitches, flicking over the tiny houses and trees of the miniature cities. “-At least, I used to be.” This is said in the dryest of tones. He hasn’t entirely figured out what it means to be arranged as a Myth yet, but there’s a certain absurdity to finding oneself with a tail. And horns.
“Right now, I believe we both need to find our way out of this forest.”
no subject
"Yeah." He's still a little quieter. But his energy is returning, bit by bit; the scratch of toes against the ground, the soft bounce of his leg as he glances up to the sky. The depth of his breath as he looks upon the moon, glowing faintly between the branches, gnarled dark fingers against an endless sky.
"Or... well, maybe not? We're lost an' there's a risk of gettin' turned 'round in the forest." He pauses for a breath, before adding "is the cold botherin' you? I got a spare cloak." Or, well, not so spare, but Esteban is not in danger. Not right away at least.
no subject
“My own is enough, thank you,” he says. The cold, beside, is almost pleasant; it’s been a very, very long time since he properly experienced cold. And really, if anything he needs gloves and a hat. If there are any hats that could fit around his horns.
(At the thought, he absently reaches up and runs his hand along one of his horns, one of the taller, curved ones at the crown of his head. These could get very inconvenient, he realizes.)
Anyway. The more pressing issue is the fact that they are, indeed, lost. Rezo hums as he considers the issue- Esteban is correct that they’re likely to get lost even further if they hare off into the woods, but Rezo doesn’t care for the idea of just sitting here, waiting for someone to find them.
“It’s highly unlikely that anyone would be looking for us, so there’s no telling how long we could be out here. I believe I’ll take my chances with the forest. I have my own abilities to deal with the dangers.” Namely, experience with traveling through the wilderness, and an impressive breadth of magical ability.
no subject
His toes tap the ground in his hesitation, but there is more than just his shuffling this time around. A low, steady patter of something approaching fast, like the scuttling of an insect. Esteban doesn't seem to hear it.
"I c'ld maybe try t' climb a tree an' see from up there, but they're humongous, an' I'll have trouble doin' it." He hesitates, knowing that the more sound idea would be to climb with all of his limbs, but he's not sure about the stranger wearing his friend's face. And then chides himself for it. Rezo hadn't reacted badly. Rezo wasn't his enemy.
"I c'n do it, but I'll need y' to hold onto stuff, okay?" It seems strange that Esteban doesn't hear the disquieting trampling; the many feet stumbling and tapping at the ground. It-- whatever it is, most definitely is coming closer.