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Entry tags:
May 2022 Test Drive Meme
MAY 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: Possible insanity via cuts by thorns. Temporary nullification of abilities.
DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS
OUT OF THE WOODS
DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS
The world comes into focus in one sharp, overwhelming rush. You are laying on the ground surrounded by staggering walls of flowers of all types and colors. Their sweet scent fills the air and the sky above is clear, blue, beautiful, and endless. It would be easy to be lulled into a quiet nap in such a peaceful place. You can even hear a soft, disembodied voice singing songs from some unknown place all around you. After some time, this siren song creates an intense yearning that will eventually bring you to your feet and pull you forward. You are filled with the urge to find someone important. You may know who or you might just have some aimless, faceless person at the forefront of your mind.
All you know is that when you finally find them, you'll know. Is it love? Is it a friend you have always needed? The perfect enemy? Only time will tell, but for now, you must find them. The flower maze is dense and for now, it doesn't seem like flying out and above them is an option. If you try, you just wind up vaulted back into the maze. Nope! This trial is about using other means of exploration. Maybe you can destroy the flowers, but you will find that this flower field is apparently endless. If you get cut by thorns along the way, you will become increasingly hectic about finding this mystery person. Some have been thrown into insane desperation just looking for their People among the flowers.
But once you finally find them, you're both filled with relief and the flowers around you blossom wider. You can then treat the flower maze like a solvable puzzle and get your way out of it. However, some people spend a bit more time in the maze since once you do find your person or people, you will be stricken with the urge to talk to them, to "open up" about your yearning to find them...even if you've never met them before!
OUT OF THE WOODS
Just outside of the flower maze is a little festival set up just on the edge of Willow and partway into Epiphany! Little stalls of food and drinks have been set up - and we mean little! The good folk who set up these stalls are magical cats standing upright and wearing clothes like little people! All the stalls are cat-sized and so are the dishes and food - which means most of the people walking through will likely be quite a bit bigger! That's okay, the cat folk seem happy to serve you bigger or multiple helpings of their yummy soups and bread. None of them seem able to really communicate with the new arrivals, but that's okay, their cute meows are fun to listen to anyway.
The music is a bit more pronounced here and a handful of cat couples are dancing around. Don't be surprised if they encourage you to join in the dancing! Maybe you didn't actually find someone in the flower maze - if not, the cat folk will encourage you to dance with another new arrival to get to know them! Because apparently dancing with someone you don't know is a good formal introduction? Ah well. Sometimes it's just the idea that counts.
There will also be some supplies to help patch people up who have gotten a lot of cuts from the flower maze. Some of the bouts of insanity are probably still going a bit hectic, so you might want to lay down in the recovery area until you feel a bit more stable. Talking to people apparently helps with the stability, so maybe strike up a conversation with a fellow newbie?
Content Warnings: Optional selective amensia and/or altered sense of self, possible monster/creature violence, temporary enchantments, forced relocations.
LONG STORY SHORT
DAYLIGHT
LONG STORY SHORT
You're in a very unusual, specific outfit and in a place you might have seen once or twice in a storybook or in the imagination of your childhood. For some, you might pick up on what's happening immediately. For others, you might be so immersed in the role that you don't realize it - but you're featuring in a classic fairy tale. Maybe it's Sleeping Beauty or Little Red Riding Hood or Tale of the White Snake or The Mirror of Matsuyama. Either way, you're the main character or the main antagonist and it looks like you're going to have to play out the story with whoever you're stuck with!
The other person in the trial can either match up to the other side of the story or just arrive as themselves and have to play along. Trying to just abandon the trial is quite literally impossible! You're stuck in the weird woods or high tower and trying to "leave" just results in you going in repeated cycles until you wind up where you started. You have a role to fill and you might as well get used to playing roles in Folkmore! It's time to understand how these trials work. What lesson are you supposed to take away?
If you're grumbling about it or are left confused, don't worry! Thirteen will appear to those struggling and explain the situation: "You need to play out the story! C'mon. Everyone knows this story...Right? Well, whatever, it's obvious! If you play your part, I promise I'll give you something you want." Can you really trust a fox though? Especially the fox who brought you here? She laughs before you can really pester her for more information and vanishes in a burst of red dust. Foxes really are mischievous, aren't they...At least most fairy tales are incredibly short, basic, and straightforward so most people should be able to figure it out!
In theory.
DAYLIGHT
At least the Fox wasn't lying. When you complete the task of the story, the fairy tale world will melt into one of the settings in Folkmore and you will be brought back into the current reality. You will be left in the weird clothes, but fear not! A mystery trunk has appeared in front of you and whoever you completed the trial with. Inside the trunk, you will find some of your canon clothes and a few canon items. Nearby, there will be some weapons sticking out of the ground: basic swords, guns, shields, etc. These items might not be enchanted, but at least you have something to work with!
Better yet, you don't necessarily have to complete the Long Story Short prompt to find these trunks either! They seem to be dotted around Folkmore and you might find them just by virtue of exploration! The trunks seem to mysteriously know who is opening them so you won't find someone else's stuff by accident, but you might have to fight over who gets the sword in the stone...
A word of caution to those who grab the weapons...You will immediately be tested on how good you are with them. As soon as you have pulled them out of the ground, the ground will begin trembling and a serpent-like creature will form out of the ground. If you're in Wintermute, you have a sizeable icy creature to deal with. If you're in Cruel Summer, meet the fire-breathing snakey nightmare that's going to try and roast you alive. Don't think Epiphany or Willow will have gentler creatures! They might be covered in moss or flowers but they will hit just as hard. You have to defeat the angry creature - or try running for your life. They are relatively easy to beat and people without powers can manage if they are highly skilled or...really lucky...Or if someone far more capable finds them! Good luck. As a pro-tip, maybe don't pull weird swords out of the ground in the future.
out of the woods
Yeah, that's generally because most people aren't bloody mad, and Mat's loathed to think it, given he has to now include himself in that category. Talking foxes! Cats being people! Madness seems to be ladelled out with the same plentiful generosity as the food on its doll-sized serving platters, as no matter how many times he blinks while busy bystandering away, the vista of utter nonsense doesn't change.
The only thing that does make sense might be that a festival ought to have dancing, and host encouraging it is the least strange sight about all of this.]
Hey now, are you out to hold the ladies hostage to keep comers from asking for a dance? Give a guy a chance.
[So maybe that's why he has the subject of dancing on his mind when, after a bout of awkward eye contact with a girl looking cornered by a bombardment of mewled feline conversation (there always has to be someone at these functions who can't shut up, regardless of species), he's compelled by a prick of conscience to sidle closer with a smiling intervention. As smooth of one as he can keep up belatedly realizing that, actually, addressing one of these sentient... cats... is awkward enough to make him regret his choices. Light, why is this happening. Conscience is overrated. Should've moved right along, thanks.
Maybe it's the hair. Red. A sentimental color, that.
The smile holds. To punctuate the interruption, he turns it toward her and extends a hand in invitation. The easiest out there is when there's music and intelligent animals tapping on people's legs to point them at the dancing area.]
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Callused fingers take Mat's proffered hand without further prompting to pull herself upright. ]
How can I say no to that? [ Though in the interest of being gracious to the downcast ginger tom left sitting forlornly by himself, she adds: ] I'll just... find you later. And you can finish your story then?
[ "Mrew!"
She's no expert at cat body language or anything, but the drooping whiskers and ears perk right back up again, so she must've done something right.
For now, the mute tug she gives his arm while taking a half pace away should give voice to just how badly she wants to make this jailbreak a success; as urgently as Aloy wants to flee this place like a rabbit from a deranged Scorcher, something tells her dragging Mat by the arm for several leagues would be a poor reward for a good deed.
So she sorta just. Gives him the look. The "lets get the fuck outta dodge bro" kind of look. ]
So! Uh. Dancing. Let's go... do that.
[ She's gonna step on so many feet sorry man nothing personal ]
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Nothing about this wrong step into a strange world is half so predictable as all that. She's certainly no average village girl in a homespun dress with flowers in her hair, looking for a partner; he could tell that at a hundred paces. Under normal circumstances, he'd have more flourish for any girl who agreed to take his hand, being one to enjoy a dance or two or several, but as it is, she pulls free, surreptitiously tugging with as much antsy energy as he feels, and if she's just as lost and ready to bolt for the hills, he doesn't blame her one bit.
Except--oh. Of all the things he expected since waking up, almost feeling bad for making a cat--a bloody cat--wilt like he just stole his betrothed wasn't one of them. Holding tight to his mild smile, he manages a mock-gentlemanly nod of thanks for the cat man... and saves the release of low, disbelieving laughter for after he's met the girl's eye and retreated a distance with her.]
Well, that was a first for me.
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[ By which she means the cats. Obviously. For whatever reason felids aren't plentiful around Mother's Embrace, or any of the lands stretching west for that matter... something to do with ARTEMIS' reseeding the wilds with life must've gone wrong or directed the subfunction to other continents. Who knows?
At any rate it's hardly a topic to get into at the moment. ]
You couldn't have come through at a better time. [ Aloy grins, sheepishly. ] I almost started to worry I'd take root then and there if I was stuck for much longer, so... thanks for the save.
[ Aaaaaand letting go of his hand rather hurriedly once the realization sinks in. No need to go yanking him around over hill and dale, right? ]
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How confident are you? [Meaning: in her own two eyeballs, and that pesky little thing called one's entire sense of reality.] Haven't totally ruled out signs of derangement.
[Seeing as how to his eyes these "villagers" represent the evolution of housecats and barnyard mousers in some possible bizarre transdimensional cat world where Mittens sits at the pinnacle of the food chain, he can only assume the red-haired girl means the question rhetorically. And if there's a better way to cope with stressful situations than rhetorical questions and dryly humored quips, he hasn't found it in his two decades of life.
She lets go on the fringes of the area some of the cat couples are busying dancing away, and he slows his steps as she turns to face him and the need for hasty power-walking fades.]
You looked like you could use it. Although... [Already shaking his head to make it water under the bridge before she's even finished giving thanks, a show of consideration turns into a lighter laugh.] I wouldn't say no if you wanted to take me up on it.
[Is he serious? Not quite. Is it still the most normal thing he would've done in a while? Yes, quite, and isn't that a sad state of affairs to marinate in.]
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Oh, pretty confident. I've just never seen animals like these before.
[ Jeez dude, no need to be catty about it. ( Ν‘Β° ΝΚ Ν‘Β°)
She's just about to ask about what he might know about the cavorting cats when the dreaded dancing topic rears its ugly head a second time, and for a moment there's a definite skittish tension drawing her shoulders tight like a bowstring. She knows what dancing is - obviously, Aloy's not that sheltered - but nobody's asked her specifically to dance before. There'd never been time after the Proving to celebrate anything.
And to be completely honest, she's not sure how to respond right away other than to give Mat a shaky smile in return, buying herself a little more time, one more breath, to consider the offer she's been extended.
More surprisingly, Aloy finds the idea of a dance strangely compelling. ]
All this - [ Cue vague arm gesture encompassing both the happy crowd and the lion's share of the festival grounds, ] - is pretty new to me. If you don't mind me not knowing what I'm doing, well...
[ Crap. Is there an etiquette to this stuff? She's so far off charted territory that Aloy hasn't the slightest clue what she should be doing to make this process any easier. ]
We could try. Just nowhere near everyone else.
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His waistband sits empty, but there's no good way to reconcile waking up in a flowered maze with no sign of a familiar or friendly face no matter how diligently he searches, except to wonder if he is, in fact, the common denominator in this insanity. Deranged is a kind descriptor for his general state this last while.
Case in point: he has to do a double take when she sets him straight to her bemusement. Hold on, back it up.]
You've never seen a cat? [U g h, can he even call them that? This is so much. This is a lot. Could he not have spent his new lease on life peaceably drinking himself back to death before Trollocs or Aes Sedai found him? Is that too much for a miserable coward to ask?] I mean-- well. They normally walk on all fours and might meow your ear off when they're not chasing field mice, but in a pet sense. Not a... recreating village life in miniature sense.
[Next to that, is dancing really that far-out? It is, outside of being comfortably familiar, a means of avoiding standing around showcasing his apprehension in gawking and rubbernecking. Buying time to get his thoughts in order while presenting another chance to check faces in and out of the dancing circle. And not to mention...
Despite the girl's clear hesitation, Mat finds the corner of his lips twitching upward in something like conspiratorial agreement when she all but reads his mind on his last point. They're on the same page in terms of eking out space for themselves, though maybe for different reasons; it's a two-birds-one-stone to taking one of these folks aside and asking questions without interruptions from an animal menagerie.]
No cats, no dances. [Wow.] Where are you from?
[You're making him feel way better about having dropped all his clues and and possibly marbles on the dimensional trip over.
Since he did go in on this ruse... In answer, he offers his hand again, less theatric than the last time. His smile--less inwardly forced to be facing a human person with actual understandable words to say-- takes on a more cynical curl now that it comes more naturally. Come on, then, rookie; try him.]
I'm willing to bet it's the least strange thing either of us will do today, so might as well. This I can say I know a thing about, if literally nothing else about what's going on here.
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[ The dry comment slips out on reflex before she realizes - an echo of childhood pain - though it's almost immediately followed by Aloy pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb in exasperation. Varl really wasn't lying when he said she had to be more patient with people.
So after tamping down still smouldering embers of old resentment, she tries again with at least a thin veneer of politeness slapped on top. ]
I was born in the Sacred Lands. Plenty of rabbits and boar to hunt as long as you avoid machine herds, but no cats anywhere. [ Shrug. ] Maybe they're just living in secret somewhere far across the Great Ocean?
[ Something to ask Alva about when she gets back. If she gets back.
For now Aloy concerns herself with the real obstacle set before her: dancing. Or trying to dance. Some of the clans had specific dances (like the Carja with their revelling nobles, or the Banuk with the highly ritualized shaman dances, or the Oseram with their drunken shuffle stumbling) but all of them were as foreign to her as the cat quickstep wheeling the little dancers around just a little ways away.
So looking very grim indeed, she takes his hand a second time, utterly determined to master whatever fancy footwork she can learn from Mat in the brief time they have together. ]
Alright. So we just... walk around each other? How does this work?
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What a pair they make, can't throw a cat toy without hitting a what if. There's plenty of unanswered questions to go around without entertaining those.
Outcast. His eyebrows spike up at the hint of bitterness from her corner, not taken aback so much as silently inquiring. Could she be Aiel, after all, with that hair and talk of clans? She sure isn't what Thom had described (or what was left to see, in that cage), but when pigs fly and cats talk, who is he to know? Would he even want to know what could make an Aiel an outcast? No two ways around it, he's mixed himself up with an interesting one, he'd bet his... well, Mat hadn't woken with much beyond the clothes on his back, but he'd bet them. Sacred Lands? And, maybe most obscure of all, machine herds?]
Definitely never heard of it, sorry. [Stepping foot outside the Two Rivers had been culture shock en masse. He's getting the feeling that learning curve is about to come off like a gentle molehill.] Out west we like to keep our rat population low and make sure our young men have something more to do on feastdays than stand around and stare at each other.
[To the latter, he means when the music kicks up and the pairing off takes place, thinking of home, the men and women joining hands, the lights dancing on the green, the smell of feast food. Ordinary, normal moments to mark off the seasons in a small village. Although in her case--]
Don't tell me I'm your first fellow in a partner dance.
[That earns a light laugh. Oh boy, Aloy, what misdeeds did you get up to in a past life to deserve this.
Not that Mat makes a bad partner in this arena, depending on how much she can brook being teased. Hey, we've all got coping mechanisms, and apparently his is crashing a cat village party and grinning at her too-serious reaction. He steps backward, leading her forward to situate them in an unoccupied space. He's committed to the bit now, no backing out.]
Okay, first thing's first, you don't have to look like I led you away for a skill-testing challenge. Relax. It's easy. I'll lead. [And, with full awareness this is a peculiar way to go about meeting people, offhandedly:] Matrim Cauthon, by the way.
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[ Joking. Mostly.
The faint tinge of nostalgia in his voice as he speaks about his people and customs don't escape her notice - Aloy's gaze remains quietly expectant, tempted to ask more about what his tribe must be like despite the knee-jerk wariness keeping a friendly stranger at arm's length. Truth be told Aloy is having a hard time placing where Mat could possibly hail from, let alone how to ease into the inevitable deluge of questions delicately.
see, varl? she's trying!Ultimately it's the "out west" comment that finally spurs her curiosity into action. ]
Hang on a second. How far west?
[ No recognition at the mention of the Great Ocean, no clothing similar to the Quen... somewhere even further still? Travelling a distance so vast is mindboggling just to imagine. Maybe if she does some rough charting with the map stored in the Focus' databanks --
"Don't tell me I'm your first fellow in a partner dance."
Matrim please. She's about two snarky comments away from magicking up an excuse to extricate herself from this whole mess! The temptation to just homer.gif into the quiet serenity of the deep woods grows stronger by the hour. ]
I can ask someone else if it's a problem. [ CALLIN' HIM OUT ON HIS SHIT. Even if Aloy passes it off with a casual shrug she isn't going to take the teasing lying down, judging from the cocked eyebrow and meaningful look. ] Who says it has to be you?
[ Ahem. Anyways. Introductions, yes.
Though she tries gamely to relax there's still apprehension knotted tight in her chest as she edges a little closer, enough that their arms aren't stretched out all the way like a taut bowstring. Not much of an improvement, but... it's a start.
In the meantime she offers a name in turn with a polite nod. ]
Aloy.
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Is this how she'd felt with their dear friend the cat man? She's throwing out more words, but like this place--this world--some elements translate and plenty don't. The more strange names he has cause to question, the deeper the tilt to his head. A keg. Now that's easy (and relevant to his interests), and so is the resulting drunken tomfoolery. He might take the combination in exchange for cats in dresses. A bit of bloodsport must be a less kooky way of raising his blood pressure than everything that's happened since the fox's appearance.
All joking aside, seriously, he's busy having the same thought: just what kind of place are these Sacred Lands? Almost as soon as he'd considered it, he picks apart the notion she could be Aiel. No veil, the obvious point against. Not to mention an Aiel would probably encourage a blood feud or two if they're as fierce as Thom described.]
Almost as west as west gets in Andor.
[His voice trails at the end into an unspoken why?. Does that mean something to her, some country out west?
If she was familiar with Westlands geography at all, she would've known he's purposely being vague. Thom had placed his accent and country dress straightaway, but he's learned his lesson since almost stumbling with Dana, now knowing she and every Darkfriend from the Aryth Ocean to the Waste are on the lookout for a clutch of wide-eyed Two Rivers folk. There's no hesitation in preparing a lie this time even as he uses her ribbing to transition on; he's been building up his blanket distrust reflex.]
You see anyone who's going to cut in to save you from me? [Looking first one way, then the other. Searching for another sucker... searching...] No? Guess I can get us started while we wait for someone. If you'll have me, Aloy.
[A name he hasn't heard the like before, but that, too, fits the theme of curiosities across the board.]
We'll do something simple, how's that? I'll even give you a first timers' pass to step on me if it's not one you know.
[He made it through the maze without scratching himself on thorns; he's overdue to have blood drawn one way or another.]
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It rankles being in the dark like this. She's so used to knowing what to do, where to go, and what questions to ask; this utter lack of recognition really hobbles the process to a much needed eureka moment.
Better let the topic rest before she gives herself a migraine.
The beads woven into her braids rattle quietly against the momentary rise-fall of her shoulders, apparently not too fussed about the lack of handily available saviours for the time being. ]
Or, you know... just walking away works pretty well.
[ Aloy's tone is pretty matter-of-fact about it in counterpoint to Mat's performative dramatics, handily filling the straight man role to his easy levity. Fortunately she has the mind to soften an otherwise sharp retort with a small smile in a brief glimpse of self-deprecating humour that's gone as quickly as it arrived, like the silver shimmer of Stormbird wings in a downpour. ]
Can't be much harder than hunting Thunderjaws. Just show me what to do.
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[Perish the thought. At least they have the added advantage of understanding one another with no hairballs involved.
In the middle of this, he was adjusting--shifting his grasp, lifting their hands, her right held aloft in his left--but his hold is only firm where it matters for good dancing. She could pull away at any time and he wouldn't stop her. He hadn't made it out of that maze and the building anxiety he'd felt within it just to give in and throw himself into company to try and soothe the hollow feeling of not finding what he's looking for.
So he hasn't caught a lead on any of the others yet. So he might have hesitated outside the Ways in order to travel some other way and end up here alone. He can't go losing his head (or what's left) over it.
It is easing, somewhat, that she meets him in the arena of irreverent humor. He resettles his fingers where they curl to rest around hers, which bear the signs of laboring with one's hands where bows are available, no different than any archer in Emond's Field. No good bringing heavy thoughts into a dance.]
Only if you're going to explain what half of those are meant to be.
[But as it so happens, cat fiddles? Surprisingly on point for creatures brandishing... paws. If a cat person can do it, could a Trolloc? Light, maybe he is mad. Sure he can accommodate the rhythm, he nods.]
Other hand on my shoulder. [And his near the back of hers, maintaining a comfortable distance between them.] The horse sense tends to be I start with my left foot, you start with your right because women are always right, you know? Now I'd be really surprised if you'd never heard of that before.
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Oh-ho. How the turn tables.
Aloy locks gazes with an alarmingly mischievous gleam in her eye, slowly raising a single eyebrow. After all this time being teased by this scruffy charmer it's high time she got a chance to repay the favour.
...and to be fair to Matrim, the smug, self-righteous tone she adopts is unashamedly inspired by someone else completely. ]
You've never seen a machine before? Where are you from?
[ The thin curve of her mouth widens into a proper, lingering smile, giving voice to the humorous absurdity of this entire conversation. She's never seen cats, he's never seen machines, blissful ignorance all around. What a pair they make.
Still, it's only fair he gets a proper explanation as he did for her, yes?
What a damn shame she doesn't have a spare Focus on her or she could just upload a scan for him to see the impressive bulk of a Thunderjaw himself. Any spoken description is doomed to fall short. ]
Three spearlengths tall, easily twenty or more long from nose to tail, shakes the ground with every step, heavily armoured and bristling with weapons... plenty of machine parts to strip if you manage to down one without being blown to pieces, though.
[ The irony of finding a nightmarish hunter-killer machine easier to deal with than dancing is not lost on her. ]
I wouldn't recommend trying to dance with one no matter how good your footwork is.
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I've seen machines. But none that sound straight out of children's stories.
[In defense of his honour as an unsophisticated-but-not-that-unsophisticated country boy, emphasis on the word and the connotation he takes with it: tools, equipment, things that serve a purpose. And like all children who'd hung on every word of those rare gleeman tales, he's heard the stories of the more magnificent, complex machines that used to exist the way the world was before, in the Age of Legends.
Her description? Doesn't help with that, not by a long shot. The cats are one thing, evidence of them (still, dumbfoundingly) visible all around them, but he tries not to look too hopelessly lost while filling the blank canvas of his imagination with an accounting of such a... thing? Device? He has to study her, wondering if she's making fun of him as part of her teasing return fire, but the punchline never comes. If he were to adopt radical acceptance and just take this as his life now, that... might explain some things about her, about the fox, about all of it. This.]
I just have one more question before I even try to follow that up.
[But first, speaking of footwork--
Look sharp, because he's deliberately coming forward on his left foot just as warned, steering her back in tandem. He could stand around waiting for the knit brow and slack jaw to catch up with him, or he could keep it moving.]
Have you ever heard of the Westlands? Aes Sedai? That's two, but one will do.
[Surely most people in most regions would recognize one, if not both, and if they knew them by different words, they must still raise a guess. Aes Sedai, maybe the most infamous in the Old Tongue.]
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[ Aloy shrugs in that telltale 'welp, what can you do' exasperation. There's machines, and then there's Machines, you know? Awfully hard to explain the difference with such a yawning gulf of knowledge yet to be crossed and not so much as a rope to try to cross it with.
The back-and-forth cadence they've fallen into is helping. Building a bridge by inches, however painfully slow, is still progress. If he offers her a plank to nail to the edge of the abyss, then she'll take it with zero complaints.
As he didn't recognize the gibberish Aloy had thrown at him, she likewise doesn't sound too excited about what may well be the title of an important organization. Sorry, Matrim. Might as well be Greek to this Nora spearmaid. ]
I'm not even going to try parsing that second one. And unless we're talking about the Tenakth tribe - which I seriously doubt - then the Westlands isn't familiar either.
[ Forgive her if she sounds a little distracted - maintaining the odd posture he'd placed her in while keeping an eye where their feet are going is taking up the lion's share of her attention in the moment. But as he shifts forward she steps back, obligingly letting Mat steer them around their little glade to his liking, cautiously optimistic that a leisurely wheeling circuit may not prove as difficult as she'd initially feared.
Step - step - turn -- ]
So. No, and no. Nothing I've heard before. Why do you ask?
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Even as he frowns at a spot over her shoulder, thoughts racing in every direction but footwork, he directs them easily. A simple country caper composed of quick steps and slow that he would normally be confident in spurring into a livelier pace while twirling her into the throng of other couples, to the beat of clapping hands, but the part of him aware of her beginner's caution keeps them moving to a more placid tempo, never too fast that she should cross cues and stumble. She's the one stepping backward, blind to what's behind her; it takes trust in a leading partner, any partner, to have faith they're not leading you into a collision or a tangle of feet.
No recognition of Aes Sedai. At one time, that might've raised his mood, even tickled his humor. No cats, no dancing, no Aes Sedai. Who hasn't heard of channelers? He hadn't dreamed of laying eyes on one in his lifetime, but until today, he hadn't met anyone in his lifetime who would fail to recognize their title. One may as well say they'd never heard of the air they breathed, though they may not have laid eyes on it.]
Only Aiel have tribes. I think. [An absent-minded, distant correction: no, they clearly aren't talking about the same thing. His frown intensifies, leaking into his voice by way of an unsettled mutter, half to himself.] Because it means that bloody fox was real.
[And all the rest. The pieces that feel like dreams, and the bits starting to hit heavy with regret. He'd wanted to get away, but not--leave. Not like this.
Attention snapping back, he looks down into her face. Or her hair, with her headed tilted downward to watch their feet. It says something, that he can't entirely enjoy the view, a girl looking so gravely focused on a basic two-step. His next step repeats the previous. Forward, back. Moving together is, really, the gist of every dance.]
Did you... see one, too? A fox.
[Bloody and bloody ashes, he'll drop her on her rear if she asks him what a fox is next.
No, he won't. But he'd like to pretend he would. It would make him feel better to think he had a single fingernail on the reins of this.]
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[ Aloy's eyes flicker up to his face, vigil broken by the subtle distress in Matrim's voice.
Whatever it was wearing the guise of a sleek vulpine had the most unnerving smile - she remembers the glint of its teeth in the shadowed hedge, how lulling and musical the lilt in its voice had been, the sly intelligence looking back at her through gaps in the leaves far too human in nature for Aloy's liking. Utterly unnatural.
Dancing cats and talking foxes... half of her is still convinced this is all an elaborate dream brought on by one too many exotic Tenakth delicacies - spicing up a dish with hallucinogenic peppers sounds exactly like something they'd do. Doubly so if it was a way to screw with some naive outlander like herself, the bastards.
Alas, the brief moment of inattention almost ends up with her stepping on his toes. Rip. ]
I -- damn it. Sorry.
[ Back to staring at what foot goes where. Β―\_(γ)_/Β― It's cool, nothing happened, nobody saw that, no sir. Anyway, clearing her throat awkwardly, Aloy continues: ]
I've never seen anything like it. It's just... this place feels wrong.
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[Not, this time, a man pretending to be a man with coals for eyes and a furnace for a mouth, split between four dreaming minds. But the fox hadn't struck him stupid with fear like the Dark One had in those encounters--far from it. But isn't that more reason to fear--to distrust--having felt compelled to follow after something he doesn't understand into a world he sure as shit doesn't understand?
He hums an off-tune note that doesn't match the festival music, drowning out whatever feelings that raises.]
Well, that was one of the questions rounding out the top of my list. If everyone here was having chats with fox things. [Not more dreams, but something else. Something far more beyond imagining.] And if there are other worlds out there and it can cross them with guests along for the ride, then I have to think the only reason you could hear about hunting machines the size of buildings and not Aes Sedai is because we came from different--
[He breaks off when she skips like an over-excited filly. Slightly out of sync, like two mismatched objects. Fitting. Laughing dismissively at the apology, he slows them to a pause, finishing his thought with some head-spinning finality for a burgeoning theory:]
... worlds.
[It's what does fit, isn't it?]
At least dancing is the same. Look at me, not where you're going to put your feet. The trick is feeling each other out.
[But her last half-distracted comment echoes on. Wrong. Coming here hadn't felt wrong, but he has to wonder if that's the part to be extra cautious of, the sweet perfume hiding the thorns.]
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Honestly, I'm still hoping this whole thing was just a fever dream and I'll wake up at any moment.
[ Aloy's sigh has a distinctly defeated quality to it.
Different worlds... it's a concept so out of left field that even Aloy looks a little skeptical the next time she glances up and holds his gaze. She knows what planets are of course - yet another outlier in tribal society - but travelling to another world always seemed like a feat that could only be paired with the grandest of technological marvels.
A sketchy talking fox is... well. Not that, to put it mildly.
Additionally, it stands to reason that if they were brought here on a whim, chances are they're also stranded here until or unless another whim sends them back.
What a disconcerting thought. For the first time since Matrim's timely rescue, Aloy much prefers to focus on stumbling through her first dance recital than dwell on an unsolvable problem.
So instead of worrying she does as he asks and keeps her chin elevated, everything from the neck up comically stiff as a board while Aloy takes a couple more tentative steps, as wobbly and unsure of her footing as a newborn fawn. Kind of like a puppy putting on booties for the first time and promptly deciding their paws have vanished from existence. ]
Easier said than done.
[ Grumble grumble. He might not be so chipper about his 'feeling out' advice if he gets a foot in the shin or something. What happened to just flailing and stomping around by yourself like most tribal dances?
Smh kids these days. :T ]
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[Why, with this overflowing cup of optimism, there should be excess left over to pour into this footwork, shouldn't there?
Light help his plan for them to blend in.]
Does relax mean act like you're in five inch wooden clogs where you're from? I said it, but I'm not so sure that's what you're trying to do.
[Under different circumstances, this would be so much funnier that maybe it's for the best they're labouring through his still-healing dance with the dagger and the collapse of the natural order. He wouldn't care to laugh so hard he gets a purposeful kick to the shin.]
I'm breaking you into dancing. We're discussing going mad together. That should put us on friendly ground. You can relax around a friendly face.
Throwing down the gauntlet come at her bro
You're bossy for a supposedly friendly face. Relax, don't relax, look up, don't look up... anything else, or is that the whole list?
[ Aloy drawls, one eyebrow raising on the same side as a sly little grin just barely elevating the corner of her mouth. Dancing might make her uncomfortable - how does one relax with someone else constantly in one's space??? - but banter... ahhh. Banter is soothing, familiar terrain she knows how to navigate with both eyes closed.
And it has the handy side effect of distracting her from dancing at all, which in turn has the tension wrapped tight around her neck loosening, lifting the suffocating focus she'd brought to bear on the world's most serious dance. Perhaps they're moving too slowly, leaving too much space and time for Aloy's perpetually active mind to calculate and analyze, getting in the way of a fun activity.
Huh. Come to think of it, keeping her mind occupied has always been the best option. Maybe they've been approaching this all wrong? ]
Just... dance like you normally would if I wasn't here. [ Now who's being bossy, Aloy??? ] I'll adapt. Don't slow down, and don't stop.
[ And just like that - her demeanour shifts from beleaguered offworlder to attentive student. What's the harm in goading him with a harmless challenge, huh? Absolutely nothing could go wrong. :o) ]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DT4kQlM5xuE #gitupchallenge
Oh, there's more. [Just call him mister taskmaster. Might as well start off strong in a strange land and strike fear into the hearts of others just wanting to know what a cat is.] I was trying to ease you into it.
[And he, too, notices itsβsuch ghastly defamation, and the humoring of itβpositive effects when she actually does relax, easing into taunting him and out of overthinking her movements in pace with his. She flows, grace waiting to take over beneath heavy-handedness.]
Well, generally I try to avoid dancing alone with my arms full of an invisible person...
[But an earnest request like that. She looks so frank about itβmore than he'd banked on, with his half-assed ideas for a diversion in pulling her from her cat fellow, his mind splintering off in a dozen other directions. Really, he's the one being the subpar partner in this duo. It's the girl's first spin around a dancing circle; that should warrant his full attention, even here, feeling like shit left out in the sun. Some etiquette is just universal that way. How can he refuse?]
Are you sure?
[Mat's game. But not before injecting more searching ominousness into the question than it rightfully deserves, face straight. Is the girl who faces hostile machines ready to face a proper Two Rivers caper?]
If one of the ladies falls over during the challenge does that mean it's a #hoedown? π€
[ For all that Aloy makes an admirable attempt at 'huffy indignation' under her breath to maintain her end of the straight man dynamic, she settles for shaking her head despairingly with a great, gusty exhale that sets wayward strands of wild ginger hair fluttering by her jaw. The nerve of this man, making a Very Serious Undertaking into another joke! What cheek.
It's when he very not jokingly suggests that she doesn't know exactly what she's asking for that a ghost of genuine emotion flits across her features. Fleeting and as much disbelief as anything else, but the scrunched nose screams offended louder than any shrieking Longleg could ever hope to match.
You'd think being underestimated so often would have her desensitized by now. ]
What, you don't think I can handle whatever you throw at me?
[ Her chin tilts up just a touch. Defiant, mulish, and as definitive an answer as he'll hope to get: yes, she's very sure she wants to test how light he is on his feet. It'll be a learning experience! Like sparring with one of the Pit Masters west of the Sundom, but without the weapons.
How hard could it be? ]
Ask me again once you're the one sitting on your ass. Now are we going to dance, or do you plan to stand here all night?
#queenshit, respectfully
And maybe, on the cusp of an unrestful, scratchy-eyed doze that skims the barest surface of sleep some hours into it, he'll similarly reflect on the odd bittersweetness that is someone whose roots are so strange reminding him of the roots Moiraine and Lan had helpfully yanked up for him. Just maybe.
But that's then, and this is... a girl doing her and his ancestors both proud ready to put him in his place.]
Manage to trust your feet and my lead and we'll see.
[Unfalteringly blithe, all the same. Nerve and cheek and jaunty smirks to infuriate the masses, his middle name. He'll give himself the passβthis is still his wheelhouse wherever he's landed among the stars, a village green with music all around. She can carry the drollery torch when Thunderjaws come knocking.
An accepting nod. As you like it, Aiel-who's-not-an-Aiel. The contract is sealed.]
Since you asked. Let's.
[βcut a post-apocalyptic rug in cat town.
This time when he sweeps into a tempo on the high note of a fiddle, it's in line with her specifications: looser and faster, as he might with any of the familiar village girls he had danced with over the years who liked to laugh and spin and twirl, no passive demonstration but a gliding step forward that slides into a sidestep, their vaguely straight direction becoming a smooth spinning rotation around another couple.]
Based
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this is so cute, wtf c':
β ( α γβ )οΌΏ
πΎπΊπ₯³
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i would just like you to know tho' i haven't started i dled HZD π
β¨Y a s s s β¨
LIFE just needs to give me the TIME
No rest for the wicked!
ain't that the truth γ½(γΌ_γΌ )γ
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every time i see this is MAY my sense of time melts
Time flies when you're having fun!
this! is! the truest!!
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π₯ happy belated anniversary, l m a o...