test drive memeeeeee

[veryroundbird]

Throne of Shadows
TEST DRIVE MEME!!!

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. In the Purple Room (aka the pub)
2. In the Blue Room (aka the library)
3. At the rooftop garden
4. In the bathroom
5. Your bedroom
6. Someone else’s bedroom

You’re feeling...

1. Happy
2. Tired
3. Angry
4. Nostalgic
5. Like someone stabbed you—oh, hey, they did, fancy that
6. Horny

Somewhat unusually...

1. The room has been destroyed.
2. There are carnival games set up.
3. You suddenly cannot verbally communicate.
4. There’s a lot of alcohol here!
5. There is a box of adorable kittens here.
6. There is a dead body on the floor.

Comments

[myblogwonabafta]

[John glances over at him. He can't read Eliot's mind, of course, but the sense is fairly clear. He still thinks he should get out of here. But the same things that are overwhelming his senses and making him want to run are gluing him to the spot. He's staring. He knows that. He looks away. If Eliot could speak, maybe the spell would be broken.

The silence lengthens.]

Maybe I should go get one of them. [He glances at the broken glass.] Or a dustpan.

[oregoniandionysus]

[See now, this is the sort of thing that makes it difficult for Eliot to get a read on him. The staring without actually doing anything. Maybe he's closeted, poor guy. Or a repressed bisexual. Actual bisexual men are about as rare as unicorns, but hey, those exist...

'Or a dustpan.'

Eliot holds up another 'hang on' finger, sets the bottle down on the floor, sits back up with a roll of his shoulders and sudden focused look at the glass on the floor. He doesn't attempt anything this complex very often, and it'll be harder without the words, even if they're not really needed. What matters is the intention.

He holds out his hands, takes a breath. His fingers and wrists break into a complicated, precise series of bends and twists. The air seems to shimmer around them, and then --

-- the shards of glass fly back up toward the wall, melding together until the mirror is whole again.

Eliot takes another hard breath and shakes out his hands. Yowza.]

[myblogwonabafta]

[John stares at him, then at the wall, then back at Eliot. His head tilts, his mouth slightly open, and he goes over it in his mind again. Floor. Wall. Mirror. Eliot.]

Fantastic.

[oregoniandionysus]

[Eliot is swallowing his third pull from the bottle when John speaks up, and -- ah, there's the sweet spot. He'll be perfectly relaxed and buzzy-warm in a moment.

He gives John a smile as he offers the bottle again.

Magic, he mouths.]