outofshadows | Test Drive Meme

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Test Drive Meme

Throne of Shadows
TEST DRIVE MEME!!!

New to Throne of Shadows? Long time player thinking of apping a new character? Welcome to our test drive meme! Experiment with active and potential muses! Here is a place where you can test out characters for the setting and accrue samples for your applications! Roll on the scenarios provided below, or come up with your own!

Scenario Builder

You are...

1. Lost in the temple
2. Trapped in a cloak room
3. Stargazing on a balcony
4. In the bathroom
5. In a bedroom
6. Swimming in a courtyard pool

You’re feeling...

1. Inexplicably happy
2. Like you could fall asleep at any moment
3. Angry enough to punch someone
4. Nostalgic or sentimental
5. Like someone stabbed you—oh, hey, they did, fancy that
6. Seriously horny. Must be something in the water.

Somewhat unusually...

1. You can only speak in rhyme
2. You are naked
3. You suddenly cannot verbally communicate
4. There’s a lot of alcohol/drugs here!
5. You are gender swapped
6. You have amnesia

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Liar. You've been nothing but pissed since you got here," Izumo accused, amiably, and lit the match.

It flared brightly, illuminating them both. So she was a little older than he'd thought, but still damn fine, and she was blonde. Izumo smiled as he cupped his hands, lit his cigarette, and shook the match out with a curse as it burned his fingertips. He took a long drag and stepped aside, the end of the smoke glowing dull red in the dark.

"Right behind me, sugar. It's not locked, I could've picked it. It's jammed, and if I can't get it unstuck, I doubt you can, but hell, you can try." Some of the banging earlier had not so much been him running into the wall, he'd tried to get the door down too. Hadn't worked, and he'd put some chakra behind it. So. They'd just have to wait.

"Yes, actually, I am. I don't find being locked in a dark coat closet as sexually exciting as you seem to."

She moved toward the door, her face expressionless. At first it looked like she was going to walk right past him. Instead she paused and tipped her head slightly to look at him. Her eyes weren't narrowed in anger or anything of the sort, but when she spoke her voice held a very cold and clear threat.

"Call me sugar again and that cigarette of yours may end up in places you might wish it didn't."

Joan flashed him a bit of a smile before moving again to the door. She had no intention of trying to bash it open. He was right on that score. If he couldn't get it open that way she had no chance. She could, however, use her head to figure out how it was jammed.

Izumo raised both eyebrows. He wasn't actually bothered by the threat. It would take more than that to bother him. "Then can I call you bitch? It's what you're being," he replied, tone sugar-sweet.

He pulled another drag, breathed out a trail of smoke. It was a nice large closet, at least. Izumo'd been in smaller for stakeouts before. He leaned against the wall again.

"Being civil to one another could at least make this bearable," he added, airily.

Edited 2013-08-28 19:12 (UTC)

Joan trailed her fingers along the edges of the door, searching for something that was causing the door to jam. She'd already tried to push it and realized it hadn't moved at all. Nothing was blocking the door from the outside that she could tell, or at least that wasn't the only problem. While she continued searching she answered his question.

"You can, but if you start that now you're going to run out of words to use when I actually am being a bitch. This is being civil."

And, for Joan, it really was. When you had to deal with consistent politics you could express any emotion in a way that was technically considered civil.

"Really? Daaaamn." Izumo whistled. "And I never run out of ugly names to call people, but let's stick with being nice, mmm'kay Miss Bitchy?"

He offered a charming grin, visible only faintly behind the dull red glow of the cigarette. "So if we're stuck and you're not interested in whiskey, smoking, or sex, I guess that leaves us inane small talk and other such nonsense to keep us entertained. Perhaps you could start with your name?"

He gestured with a careless hand. Though short - only five foot five inches - and built stockily, his hands were long and slender. They looked a bit odd compared to the rest of him as a result.

Edited 2013-08-28 21:08 (UTC)

"Yes, all of those things would be out."

Personally she would prefer inane chatter be out too, but she doubted that would ever actually happen. At least she could keep most of her attention focused on figuring out what was blocking the door than on the actual conversation.

"Since you did lead me to the door like I asked, I guess my name is appropriate. Joan. Now did you find anything thin? Like a ruler or metal something?"

"I already tried, but I'm not giving you my lockpicks. You'll probably bend them, and they were damn expensive."

Izumo was a ninja, after all. Of course he had lockpicks. And several small weapons, even though he was in civvies. Jeans and a faded T-shirt, ratty well-worn sneakers with rainbow laces. His dark head was uncovered, and as he gestured with the cigarette in hand the light glinted off the rings in his ears. Three on each side; two lobe and one cartilage.

"I'm something of an expert on getting in and out of places, and I couldn't get out. So we're stuck, for a bit, but given the number of coats in here and how none of them are the same, somebody's gotta open this door sooner or later, Joan."

Izumo frowned and tried her name again, adjusting the inflection. "Joan. Now that's a tricky one."

"If there were a lock on this side of the door I would have had it open already."

Izumo wasn't the only one that could get in and out of places he wasn't meant to be in. Picking locks was one of the early lessons at the Farm, and one that was actually used continually. Even outside of the field Joan had needed to make use of the skill.

"I was thinking of something a bit longer than lockpicks, though just as thin."

She wasn't as willing to wait for someone to open the door as he was. While she wasn't one to be entirely pessimistic, it was part of her philosophy that you always worked in a back-up plan. You always had nets in place just in case things went sideways. There was always a chance that someone wouldn't come open the door.

"Feel free to try out Mrs. Campbell if you'd prefer."

"Oooh, missus, hmm? Married, then?" Izumo returned, cheerfully. "And no, nothing longer than lockpicks." Well, a kunai, but he wasn't giving her the slender ninja knife. She'd probably try to do him some harm, as frosty as she was being.

If worst came to worst, he was pretty sure he could risk a blind translocation to outside, but those...didn't always end well. When a moving ninja and a piece of heavy furniture, or a wall, or a tree, tried to occupy the same space at the same time, guess which one ended up messily exploding? The ninja. Izumo liked life with all his organs internal, thanks.

He took another drag. Hmm, for commercially packed, these were good. Probably Marlboros.

"Yes."

He wasn't going to get more of an explanation than that. Her marriage wasn't something she really talked about with anyone, sometimes her own husband included.

With the necessary tools not at her immediately disposal, Joan left her search of the door and started looking around nearby for what she needed. If she had to resort to digging through coats again she would. Someone had to carry a pocket knife, right?

"Not happily, then, I see," Izumo decided, gauging her tone. He watched her dim shadow move about, never moving from where he leaned on the wall. "And a do-er. Can't be still, hmm, Joan."

It amused him to watch people and pick them apart. As she was his sole companion for the conceivable future, he might as well try to find out what made her tick. It wasn't like any other entertainment options were throwing themselves his way.

"Yes, happily. I am simply not happy right now."

It was only a partial lie. Sort of. Sometimes she was very happy in her marriage. Unfortunately lies, secrets, and suspicions had plagued the union from the start and weren't likely to end any time soon.

"I can, if necessary, but I would prefer not to leave my fate up to someone opening a door if I can do something about it. You could try to be helpful as well."

"Lie to me if you like. I don't care."

Izumo shrugged. She wasn't being very interesting. Too bad, so sad.

"I was helpful. Unlike you, I can recognize when I'm simply wasting energy. Come sit down, busybody, and I'll teach you a drinking game."

Joan turned slightly and lifted an eyebrow at him in silent query. Lie to him? No. She wasn't lying to him. At least not to the extent that she would consider a lie.

"If you were so worried about wasting energy you wouldn't be running your mouth. And I know plenty of drinking games, thank you."

Izumo said, "Well, then, come play one with me."

He was bored. Her trying to get out after he had already done so? Both boring and pointless. So they should do something interesting, obviously. Drinking games were one, since she'd turned down sex. Izumo had his dice, but no cards. He doubted she'd gamble, anyway, and what did they have to bet? cigarettes and pocket lint? Hell, she hadn't wanted the cigarettes earlier; he was keeping those.

"You don't have anything I would want to drink, and I wouldn't trust anything you find in some random coat pocket unless it was sealed."

Once a spy, always a spy. Just the thought of the number of ways someone could poison an unattended container of alcohol could have her going on for hours. Even someone not as distrustful as Joan would have to admit that the risk was rather high.

"It's not poisoned," Izumo answered, calmly. Or if it was, it was a minor one he was immune to. But it didn't taste poisoned. Besides, who would bother to drug a bottle of alcohol carried in an inner coat pocket? Not somebody whose coat had smelled faintly of alcohol fumes and cigar smoke. "Not a whiskey fan, baby?"

He took another long drag of the cigarette, at his ease.

Joan let that one go. She'd long ago learned to pick her battles, and this one wasn't worth fighting. In fact, she suspected that if she pushed the issue he would only make it a point to technically obey her request only to come up with another similar name that she hadn't already banned. It just wasn't worth it.

"No, I'm not."

She would much rather have her wine, thank you.

"Suit yourself. I'm trying very hard to be pleasant company, you know. You could do a little trying yourself."

Izumo shook his cigarette at her. "It'll make the wait easier." He was damn tired of her sourpuss attitude.

"I'm trying to get us out instead of waiting around for a rescue we can't be sure is coming."

She'd still been searching through pockets during Izumo's attempts to draw her into a game, and the next pocket she went into revealed something useful. The pocketknife she'd been looking for. Satisfied, she flipped it open. While the blade was a little on the small side, it would hopefully do the trick.

"Personally I believe the wait would be easier in silence."

"Daaaaaamn. Cold. Are you always this passive-aggressive unfriendly, or am I just lucky today?" Izumo queried, watching her shadow move in the dim glow cast by the cigarette. He tapped another out of the carton, and lit it from the end of his nearly-burnt-out-one.

He did not, in fact, smoke on a regular basis. But he'd spent enough time in the company of smokers to do a very good job of chainsmoking. He ground the butt out on the wall, pocketed it, and went back to his fresh cancer stick.

"I don't have time to waste for idiots and fools, so yes, I am."

Honestly Joan rarely had time to waste for agents that weren't idiots or fools. Time was always a limited quantity and sinister plots seemed more never ending, especially of late.

She returned to the door and slipped the blade into the crack, sliding it up toward the corner. Before she could get quite to the top the blade stopped. It was what she'd been hoping to find, the location of what was causing the door to refuse to open.

"Hm."

"Ouch. How you wound me." But Izumo chuckled immediately after, robbing the plaintive tone of any truth. "I get the feeling you're not really a very happy person, are you, Joan?"

Speculation, but based on words, turn of phrase, the way she moved. Part of Izumo's job had always been intelligence, spying and blackmail. He learned people, and he listened to them, and he took them apart to find out what made them tick and what would be the best leverage. It wasn't malicious; by now it was just what he did, so used to working he never really stopped.

Joan cast Izumo a small smile over her shoulder. On the surface that's all it was, but hidden not very far down was a hint of threat. Anyone with good instincts would recognize it for what it was.

"I have my moments."

She waved a hand toward the door.

"Now come over her and see what you think."

"I think the door is damn stuck and nothing we do is going to help," Izumo answered, before he pushed away from the wall and slipped up into her personal space as if he belonged there, tapping on the door with a knuckle. He tipped his head to look up at her, smiling pleasantly.

"It feels like there is a very large piece of furniture up against the door and while I have many many talents, Joan, moving that is not one of them."

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