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July 2023 Test Drive Meme
July 2023 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 canon items from homes, especially weapons or other things they may have had on their person when they were pulled from their worlds! There will always be a prompt that provides some sort of "reward" to characters who complete certain tasks.
🦊 New Star Children meet the Fox still in their worlds, and she brings them into the new realm of Folkmore. As you follow her, your body begins to change and new characteristics emerge. These may stay for a while, or perhaps they will hide away after. And during all of this, the Fox explains to you where you will be going: to Folkmore.
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: Reality shifting, environmental dangers.
Star Children new and old wake up in an extremely old building—or an incomplete one, it's hard to tell for sure. Star Children are solid and real and barefoot, but the building itself fades in and out of existence, threatening to abandon their occupants to the outside environment if they're lucky or nothing at all if they're not. Belongings are sparse, too ephemeral to be of any use. Not that shoes exist for even a moment.
Whether it's a home or an office, a train station or a school, what's certain is that it's not a place to stay. Because it whispers admonishments to leave, to pick up the pace, and promises that there is somewhere to go. Within minutes, the structure is gone, and Star Children must make their way across shifting jumbled landscapes toward Folkmore proper. They could travel across water, through tunnels, or amidst any type of land or space imaginable. The one constant is that it's not reliably there and thus difficult to navigate.
Should a Star Child get into a spot of danger, the land hums slightly and guides another Star Child to the person in question. The new Star Child is the only aide proffered, and they must work together to solve whatever conundrum is before them.
Star Children new and old wake up in an extremely old building—or an incomplete one, it's hard to tell for sure. Star Children are solid and real and barefoot, but the building itself fades in and out of existence, threatening to abandon their occupants to the outside environment if they're lucky or nothing at all if they're not. Belongings are sparse, too ephemeral to be of any use. Not that shoes exist for even a moment.
Whether it's a home or an office, a train station or a school, what's certain is that it's not a place to stay. Because it whispers admonishments to leave, to pick up the pace, and promises that there is somewhere to go. Within minutes, the structure is gone, and Star Children must make their way across shifting jumbled landscapes toward Folkmore proper. They could travel across water, through tunnels, or amidst any type of land or space imaginable. The one constant is that it's not reliably there and thus difficult to navigate.
Should a Star Child get into a spot of danger, the land hums slightly and guides another Star Child to the person in question. The new Star Child is the only aide proffered, and they must work together to solve whatever conundrum is before them.
Content Warnings: Liminal space, abandoned building, service industry.
Beach Day
Beach Day
It's difficult to tell exactly when Star Children are back on terra firma. The air is foggy and damp, obscuring vision similarly to reality coming in and out. However, all Star Children who get out find themselves on a beach of wet sand. Keep marching onward, and trees form a skeletal border growing dark shadows stretching further into their depths. Those who have been exiled before can feel a path through the trees should they wish to venture further into Exile. Those who have never been exiled can feel resentment and the promise of further difficulty.No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem
Like Baba Yaga, Exile seems to have walked over into new territory: a beach. Yes, the beach itself is in Exile and heavy with the weight of magic. It extends in either direction, bordering the long expanse of tenuous reality that laps against it. Star Children can do as they wish on the beach: build a sand castle, run or slide down dunes, or soak in the magic (the sun is hiding). And hey, at least no sand is getting in anyone's shoes—as there aren't any.
For those who walk the shore and explore the beach, they can eventually catch sight of a fading sign reading Vasilisa's swinging in a faint wind from a wooden post. Coming closer, there's faint signs of a fence having lived there back in the day. Lone picket teeth tilt haphazardly around a yard with weather worn beach furniture. Chairs hunch around tables flashing their back legs in the air for all the world to see. A stone path, half buried under sand, weaves between them toward the lone building on these empty shores.
The building clearly used to have bright colors some time, but it's faded and cracked to show the wood beneath. A covered porch crowds with tables for a break from the sun weakly illuminating the foggy scene. The front door creaks but opens to an empty host station and further seating within the beachfront restaurant. A giant chalkboard taller than most humans and many times wider looms over one side between two windows. Menu is written in flowing script atop the chalkboard, and several thick pieces of chalk rest on the ledge before it. All it needs is to be filled in.
No spirits greet anyone or man the kitchen. It's empty, though well stocked with pots and pans, mixing bowls and measuring cups, shelf stable ingredients and fresh ones. None of the food is rotten or bad. It's simply waiting. The only way for the restaurant to run is for Star Children to step up and run it. Develop a menu, cook dishes, seat guests, take orders, clear dishes, wash dishes… There's no shortage of ways to help out.
So come and enjoy the restaurant, whether to work in it or to enjoy the labors of those who do. Whoever helps the restaurant in any capacity will find, when they take a moment's break, a small chest containing an item from your homeworld. This may even be a weapon or magical item.
And shoes.
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Well, then.
Hythlodaeus jumps down, and a moment after the cat hits the sand again the man is straightening up from a graceful crouch and brushing himself off.]
As much as it would delight me to no end to continue to needle you into apoplexy, I'm feeling very magnanimous at the moment.
[His eyes are sparkling with their usual good humour. Hythlodaeus' feet are bare on the sand, and quite obviously so given he isn't wearing the robes Emet-Selch would be so accustomed to seeing him in. Rather, he's wearing a pair of grey leggings and a loose white shirt with a thin cardigan over the top. His toes curl into the sand and he rocks back slightly on his heels.]
And it's good to see you. Truly.
[He means that wholeheartedly, if the warm smile is anything to go by.]
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[Hythlodaeus appears none the worse for wear, fortunately enough. Emet-Selch is less puzzled by the change of dress than he is by how well and how comfortably it seems to suit his friend. Though even that brings fewer questions to mind than Hythlodaeus's newfound ability to morph from feline to man.]
[Emet-Selch crosses his arms, then. Studies him a moment more, and at last concedes.]
So it is. And a long time coming, at that.
[The words themselves serious, but soft. Emet-Selch has never been one to leave himself vulnerable overlong, yet there seems to be more that he is not saying.]
If such is the way of things, I suppose I should be thanking the star for your present magnanimity.
Though that still does little to shed a light on just why you chose to approach me in that form, or how it came to be in the first place.
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'Tis a strange place that the Fox has brought us to. The ability to change shape on a whim is granted by the role she gave to me.
[He won't mention just yet how he struggled with it at first. How it took months. How the societal taboo of it had worked its way into his subconscious to block his intent even when he truly desired to try.
Instead, as the breeze from the sea ruffles his hair across his forehead, he lifts one hand to lightly brush it aside and tuck a few wayward strands behind his ear.]
I ought to have known I couldn't hide from you. [His smile turns into a faintly mischievous half-grin.] But I didn't think you'd tolerate my teasing so readily, what have you--?
[He sees it then, and he freezes for a moment, smile locked in place before it fades uncertainly. Hythlodaeus looks his friend up and down, his eyes shifting to that tell-tale distant loss of focus, then they snap back up to meet molten amber and his lips press together as he swallows.]
Ah.
[His soul. It's... Old. Impossibly so. He reaches out to touch Emet-Selch's arm with a faint brush of his fingers, as if to check that he's solid despite having been perched on his shoulder moments before. His expression softens to something understanding and faintly pained.]
Hades...
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Ah yes, the creature did mention something of roles. Legends, and myths, and... familiars as I recall. A rather unusual combination, all told.
[After all, the one is unlike the others. He needn't ask which category Hythlodaeus has been slotted into if that is the reason for his feline transformation.
[Everything seems perfectly comfortable between them, until it suddenly isn't. Hythlodaeus's lips curve in a fondly remembered show of mischief, and then it all begins to go sideways, so to speak. That mirth is replaced by what can only be described as shock.]
[Emet-Selch opens his mouth to reply--but he knows. Whatever Hythlodaeus has seen must have been surprising in the worst of ways. And in the end, that is all the explanation he needs. He pauses, allows the words to die there in his throat. And then lets out a quiet sigh, barely audible but visible in the way his shoulders slacken.]
[Once, such scrutiny would have left him unsettled, as though all of his layers were being peeled back, exposing his innermost self - his aspirations and dreams, his vulnerabilities and his sins. Indeed, back in the foolish days of his youth, he'd been most envious that Hythlodaeus could see much farther, much deeper, much more acutely than he could ever hope to. He does not envy him that ability now, yet he does respect it. What a glorious mess he must spy beneath the surface.]
[At last his eyes meet his, a shadow seems to pass over them, yet they are steady and honest.]
You needn't look at me so, Hythlodaeus. Not with that doleful expression of yours.
[He's reassuringly solid, in fact, and warm to the touch. Yet that does not really mean much, now, does it? He crosses his arms over his chest - though he does not go out of his way to dislodge the hand that reaches for him.]
Besides. The way I see it, far better to subject myself to your whims than spend my afternoon continuing to slosh about in the swamps. I've quite had my fill of being wet and miserable for the time being, and all of this world's incessant transmogrify was beginning to give me a headache.
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But the other man's reaction to his shock at seeing what he does is so very him that Hythlodaeus cannot help but softly laugh into his hand. He shouldn't be surprised - what else could he have expected? Everything that Alyndra had told them, it seemed, had come to pass after all in spite of his vehement opposition to the idea. That he's still so very much like himself relaxes Hythlodaeus immensely and any tension that had sunk into his shoulders bleeds out of them by degrees.
He puffs out a sigh.]
And now you found me. This day isn't going well for you at all, is it?
[Back once more to his mischief. Hythlodaeus knows very well how many headaches he has given Emet-Selch over the course of their friendship and that this occasion is probably going to be no difference. He smoothly hides his concern, his worry for the state of the other man's soul, and lightly takes him by the arm to tug him along the sand.]
Come. I'm starting to get restless, and I imagine you have some questions for me.
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[Yet this time Emet-Selch remains quiet for a breath too long before he delivers his reply, voice rich with emotion for one wavering moment before his usual blunt irritation takes over once again.]
On the contrary, everything is going absolutely swimmingly!
[If Hythlodaeus is capable of finding joy and amusement in such a revelation, Emet-Selch will not begrudge him it. Full better than seeing him hover about in clear worry and distress.]
[Whatever resistance is just as equally a formality: some predictable heel-digging, a brief stint in which he pretends to be an understudy taking on the role of an immovable boulder, a hint of generosity when he at last allows himself to be budged and chauffeured along the beach.]
As for questions, I've a great many of them, actually. Though most can wait. Dare I ask where it is you are taking me? Or perhaps more pointedly, if I should be concerned about this sudden "restlessness" of yours?
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So he smiles, softly laughs, plays along and tugs at Emet-Selch's arm as he acts as if he's going to resist in following, and once they're both moving he links his arm comfortably through the other man's and tilts his head just slightly in his direction.]
Concerned? Not at all. Nothing more than a pretext to get you moving.
[As such things so often are... And for where they're going? Hythlodaeus purses his lips and waves his free hand off down the beach ahead of them.]
In situations like this, there's usually some kind of civilisation up ahead. You ought to count yourself lucky, you know... the last time, there were sand worms.
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I am not so immovable.
[Emet-Selch clucks his tongue at this "pretext" but makes no real effort to protest, nor to disengage his arm from his companion's determined grasp. The familiarity of it all hangs heavy in his chest, dredging up the last vestiges of heartache and homesickness that have shadowed him for centuries.]
[He does not seem to have any trouble in keeping up, yet Hythlodaeus may notice, if they happen to bump up against one another accidentally, that something seems to be bunched up beneath the hood of Emet-Selch's robes. That the form beneath them, particularly the slightly bowed outline of the man's back, is not solid flesh as it should be but something much softer. Something that rustles.]
Is that so? I had heard something about these sand worms, yes. Yet mayhap I would find them preferable to traipsing about with no clear sense of direction.
You seem well, however. Perhaps you would apprise me of just what sort of mess I've gotten myself roped into this time? Or perhaps what you yourself have been up to? I've already been fed the abridged version of our current predicament, mind you. The highlights will suffice.
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The desert was rather inhospitable and definitely doesn't come with my recommendation.
[Oh, he's noticed that there appears to be something under Emet-Selch's robes too, but he has a good idea of what that might be... and he is choosing his moment to point it out. Instead, for now, he focuses on the other man's questions and chuckles lightly at the way his friend chooses to pose them.]
The situation we're in currently should be a temporary one - eventually we'll have the opportunity to find our way out of it. Though we'll still be within Folkmore - Thirteen's realm - after that. [He pats Emet-Selch on the arm.] As for what I've been doing, you know, just this and that. I didn't take to being able to change my shape with as much ease as others in the same role did.
[As for why that is? He has some ideas.]
I'm rather delighted to have been able to show you, though, without making too much of a fool of myself.
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[His eyes lift towards Hythlodaeus's face as the other man offers his arm a consolatory pat. And really, he's fine - if somewhat irritated by his inability to do anything at all about his current predicament at the moment. He isn't powerless, no, yet where to begin in this situation... The board has been swept, so to speak. Square one.]
[He tries not to think of it.]
[Hythlodaeus, at least, is something familiar. Something he understands. He has a few ideas as well, can imagine that a lot of the "this and that" he glosses over has been time spent practicing. And now he has realized something he has never before been able to achieve reliably: transformation. Emet-Selch is not free with his praise, yet he imagines his friend is quite proud of this accomplishment.]
Too much of one?
Your efforts appear to have borne fruit. Perhaps if I did not know you, you would have convinced me that you'd spent your previous life as a feline.
[A pause, and then he asks, not unkindly but with a hint of humor for the phrasing that comes to mind.] Shall I applaud your artful performance?
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[For a beat, Hythlodaeus just looks at him expectantly as if waiting for said applause, then he laughs with such mirth that he can't help but tip his head back a little and he squeezes Emet-Selch's arm against his side subconsciously. No, he does not actually expect any kind of applause for his display, though that doesn't stop him from being quite proud of his achievement.
Emet-Selch, of anyone, would be the most likely to understand why it had taken him so long to manage it.]
Don't push yourself. It looks like you have your own problems at the moment... [He leans back just slightly, more deliberately this time, and finally gives that rustling hunch on his friend's shoulders a direct look.] Don't you?
[Because Emet-Selch was clearly not going to mention it, so obviously he has to be the one to broach the subject.]
Are you going to tell me about it?
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[A predictable response, and a little more stern than it needs to be as he butts his shoulder against the other man's arm in protest. Despite his practiced (feigned) annoyance, Emet-Selch isn't half so disagreeable, truly. Yet there are rather a few marids in the room (upon the beach) and it seems that Hythlodaeus has decided to address the least offensive of these first.]
[No, in fact he was not going to mention it, yet it seems that his dear friend and resident chortler would force his hand one way or another.]
That you have bothered to ask would suggest you believe I should. Though I can assure you there is little to be told about Thirteen's welcome gift. Your knowledge of this world's roles is greater than mine, yet rather than a problem, I would consider this a mild inconvenience.
Once I have rested, I will see them tucked away - or done away with, if possible. But that's not really what you wish to know, is it?
[He glances over at him but says nothing.]
no subject
I want to know what they look like.
[He would very, very much like to know exactly what Thirteen has given to Emet-Selch and although he does not phrase the question directly, he is curious as to which role the other man might have been assigned.
Of course, he knows which one he would give to him, though Emet-Selch would probably not agree.]
So, will you show me?
[Pretty please?]
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[He'd be quite disappointed in himself if he didn't know Hythlodaeus after all this time. While some few details have escaped Emet-Selch over the eons, he had not relinquished them without a fight. Such memories have become something of an indulgence, after all. An escape and an ends in equal measure.]
[Yet the smile is answered with a disapproving frown, Emet-Selch's eyes glinting briefly.]
I fail to see how their appearance matters, however. Or why you would expect me to show you here of all places. I'd much prefer to keep my robes intact, thank you very much. Can your curiosity not wait?
[What Hythlodaeus may notice, if he examines Emet-Selch's words and posture, is that his friend does not yet know what they look like either, even if he can surmise easily enough what "they" are. Certainly no signs of a struggle - no tears or damage to the material - can be found, and one would not expect someone like Emet-Selch to disrobe out in the open.]
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[But fine, fine, he's not going to insist that Emet-Selch strip here and now just to sate his curiosity. Just having him here is enough for the moment and although in the grand scheme of things the length of time he's spend alone isn't all that long at all, he has felt the lack of his closest friend in the months he has been in this place.]
Yes, it can wait. [And then, after a moment spent observing everything about the other man all at once.] We can both deal with our curiosity over the matter at a more suitable time.
[The last thing he wants right now, really, is to push Emet-Selch's mood to something more sour than its usual baseline. As much as he does - and always has - enjoyed needling the man he does have other priorities right now. One of which is, quite abruptly, the building he spies up ahead.]
This is going to sound like an odd question, but do you see that building as well?
no subject
[Not that his own curiosity is at all comparable - at least on the matter of his new appendages. What does pique his interest, however, is the small building that rises out of the fog in the distance. Rather small for a dwelling, but perhaps this close to the sea it serves some other purpose for those who would otherwise make their living off of the ocean's bounty.]
Hm.
You mean the one with the faded sign and the dilapidated fence? Yes, I see it. I'd wager it hasn't been used in some time. Or at the very least, whoever last did cared little for its upkeep.
no subject
Yes, yes, that's exactly the one I mean.
[The first sign of any kind of civilisation he's seen since he ended up out here and all the more tempting for it despite the obvious level of disrepair. His steps quicken just a little, enough to put himself out in front of Emet-Selch as he curiously eyes the building while they draw closer.]
Strange how I didn't see it before. We haven't walked that far, have we? [Have they? It's difficult to tell sometimes in these strange positions Thirteen puts them in. He looks over his shoulder to the trail of their footsteps behind them, stretching out across the damp sand.]
Well. We should go and have a look, should we not?
no subject
So long as it's dry and provides someplace for me to rest my weary feet, I don't see why we shouldn't.
As to the whys and the hows of it, very little about this place isn't strange. If our surroundings themselves are capable of shifting on a whim, I see no reason why our distance of travel cannot be shortened or lengthened.
[Emet-Selch comes up beside him, studying the outside of the building now that they've drawn closer. All appears still, yet there are clear signs of use, even some footprints which appear fresh.]
Ah, a restaurant. Fantastic... Let us hope there's still some manner of stove inside.
[The place is deserted, he's certain of it. And so it is that Emet-Selch pushes aside the creaky front door and takes a step across the threshold - cautiously, but decisively.]
no subject
Something which does, admittedly, inspire some wariness all on its own.
But it's hard not to feel confident with Emet-Selch at his side, so the momentary pause really is only momentary before the lilac-haired man is moving forwards with purpose once again.]
Are you telling me you're going to cook?
[Because he would love to see this. It would be a treat, in fact.]
Do you take requests?
no subject
[An impatient cluck of his tongue, yet Emet-Selch has enough manners to swing the door wide open so that it doesn't clip either of them when a draft inevitably begins to tug it closed again. The inside, too, is deserted yet it appears to have been recently visited. There's a bowl of fruit on the counter - still fresh, by the look of things. And a quick perusal and a tentative poke of a finger proves they are entirely real and not simply likenesses molded from wax. The kitchen itself appears stocked, too.]
[It's as if someone was here and simply stepped out for a breather, despite the fact they have passed no one on the way here.]
[Interesting. Very much so.]
Though I suppose a meal wouldn't be the worst idea. Can't say I remember the last time I sat down for one.
[A glance over Hythlodaeus as he crosses his arms.]
This is the part where you make your request, though do keep in mind I'm under no obligation to fulfill it.
no subject
He picks up an apple from the fruit bowl and examines it, squinting slightly at it as if trying to ascertain if it's entirely safe... then he looks to Emet-Selch with a bright expression and a shift in his demeanour that suggests very much that if he had a tail, it might well be wagging.]
Really? Hmm.
[They should probably look to see what is on offer first, because Hythlodaeus could really ask for anything. Apple in hand, he ventures to poke around the place to see what he can find, discovering a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen considering it seems that no one is here.
... It's weird, but honestly, when it comes to situations like this he's learned not to ask too many questions.]
There's some meat here, vegetables... frying pan? What do you think, Hades? Are you prepared to dazzle me with your culinary prowess?
[Heehee.]
no subject
[There's what appears to be a uniform hanging from a peg on one wall - a simple thing that has no hope of fitting over his broad frame, along with a rather unusually decorated apron depicting a beautiful girl's face on the pocket and the embroidered word Vasilisa's. Well. They needn't be here long. A sharp and well-aimed snap of his wings has water scattering across the threshold, pelting the deck outside as he slips the apron over his head and ties it behind him.]
I do hope you realize you are only setting yourself up for disappointment. But I may be able to devise something edible.
[A sharp look, as if to say "not a word about this".]
What about oil? Grains? We'll start by frying up the meat and vegetables.
no subject
uhm
appearance.]
Well, now. You got comfortable quickly.
[And he's delighted, honestly (and obviously). He sets down a bottle of oil and a bag of rice, then leans both hands on the counter and rakes his full attention down his friend's form from head to foot.
Excuse him. Not a word.]
Did I hear a 'we' in that statement? You'll be expecting me to help, then. [He can definitely do that, but...] Make some room, in that case.
no subject
Hardly. Yet it's more comfortable than damp robes. They should dry soon enough in any case, moreso once we've begun.
[He has half a mind to warm his wings in the heat of the stove once whatever they concoct has been removed and served, but he doesn't get around to voicing that thought. Instead he frowns yet again.]
Make some room where precisely? There's plenty of it already. If I can entreat you to start chopping vegetables into bite-sized morsels, I'll see what can be done about the rest.
no subject
Some things never do change it seems. Hythlodaeus' ability to ruffle his friend for one, and the other being that the man is prickly enough to injure anyone approaching from a ten malm radius. Not that it deters him at all, as he sidles over and puts himself immediately beside Emet-Selch with a cheerful smile.]
Oh, I can manage chopping.
[And he does, albeit with all the finesse of someone utterly unused to making food of his own for the most part. At least he doesn't cut his fingers.]
That, uhm... [A glance. He fights a smile.] That apron is very fetching on you, my friend. Brings out your eyes.
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