TEST DRIVE #1

[collectedmods]

TEST DRIVE #1

Hi shoppers! Welcome to the first Test Drive Meme for COLLECTED. A few things before we get started:

» For the time being, our TDM’s are closed to those eligible to apply based on our invite system. This means that you must be on one of the mod’s plurklists, or invited as a +1 by someone on those lists. Thanks for understanding!

» TDM Threads will NOT be canon.

» Because of that, feel free to assume/handwave CR, and assume your character has been in the setting for a little bit.

» When the game opens, characters will be able to try their hand at going outside. But, during the TDM, all doors and windows to the outside will be locked, and characters will be unable to venture out there.

» These prompts are not exhaustive - feel free to make up your own within the setting of the mall! Anywhere on the Second Floor of the mall is free game. And if you have any questions about what you can and can’t do (or about anything else) reply to the QUESTIONS comment below, and we’ll get back to you soon.

Most importantly, have fun! And thank you so much for your interest in Collected; we’ve been so stoked over the turnout!! 🧡

PROMPTS

I.

There’s one big problem about getting around the Mall - and no, it’s not the bottom floor that’s flooded.

The other huge problem that the dilapidated infrastructure causes aside from making everything smell weird and leaving tons of crumbled debris around is that at some points in the mall, it’s impossible to get across large gaps in the flooring where it’s fallen through to the waters below. In fact, to access the side of the mall across from where you are right now, there are no paths that are safe for walking across. But there is one way.

One attraction of the mall has stayed (mildly) in tact - and that’s a Hi Wire Bicycle. The one way across to the other side of the Mall is this rusty, dusty bicycle attached to a thick wire, with signs around the attraction describing how much the fare used to be to ride across - if you were daring enough, that is! Obviously, no one’s ridden across this thing in years - much less for the overpriced payment required.

More than that, it seems a little… less than safe. The net that probably provided mall-goers with some degree of self-assurance has aged, sagging and unraveling at the junctures of some of the knots. If you were to fall onto it, would it still catch you…? The wire affixed to the bike doesn’t seem too steady, either, not to mention how hard you’ll have to push against the rusted pedals to get them to move. As it stands, though, it’s the only way across to get to the Second Floor’s other half of stores. Luckily (or maybe unluckily?) there’s a seat for you and a friend. So, at least you won’t go down alone.

To make it across, you’ll have to be brave, be creative, and most of all, be lucky!

II.

A.

Near the heart of the food court, decorations for what used to be Santa’s village are still laid about. How many Christmases ago were these left here? By the looks of things, a lot. A thick coating of dust has settled on the nooks and crannies of what is supposed to be the elves workshop, alongside the seat where Santa must have sat to take pictures with children.

In the Elves’ Workshop, you’ll find a massive amount of animatronic elves. They’re all positioned to be working on toys, putting up decorations, or singing from carol books - it looks like these little guys were put here to perform for kids, not unlike an interactive (and more Christmas-y) version of It’s a Small World. There’s even un-opened (and therefore okay-to-eat!) boxes of chocolate chip cookies that must have been for the Mall-goers around Christmastime stashed inside an open cabinet, which was most definitely only for employees to access.

The only problem is that once you enter and make your way inside the workshop… something strange happens. Is something grabbing onto your clothes? Your hair? Maybe a stray finger? It’s the little wooden hands of one of the elves. Your first thought is that you just brushed past it and got caught on it - but, on the second thought, it’s not letting go. In fact, it’s grip is getting tighter. Painful, even. All while it smiles blankly ahead, eerily still aside from it’s tiny hand squeezing you. Take your eyes off these cheery boys and girls for too long, and you’ll realize they’re not staying put like good little elves - they’re moving closer to you only when they’re out of sight.

If you’re unlucky enough for several to latch onto you, you’d better ho-ho-hope someone can break you free.

B.

Outside the Workshop, more towards where the line to meet Santa would be, there’s a big snow machine. Unluckily for you, the machine’s sensors, which would have known to start putting out snow whenever people walk by, seem to still be working despite the Mall’s run-down state. As soon as you get near the thing, it starts spewing out tons of fake snow. It’s completely unlike the delicate sprinkling you’d find in a shopping center: it’s plain blasting you with the stuff, more like a hose than anything else. Too bad that the part of the machine that broke was whatever controlled the volume and speed of the snow instead of the sensors, right?

The fake snow is sticky and old, and will stick to you and the floor the more you get caught in it - better hurry and stop that machine!

C.

There’s a huge, luxurious chair that was most certainly reserved for the Santa employee in the center of the village area - tall and wide enough for at least a few people to clamber onto. Even though the paint is chipping off parts of the throne, and the wood is decaying in places - it still doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Even the camera is still sitting in front of the chair, balanced on a tripod as though there were kids coming to take pictures with Santa today.

You’ll find that walking into the frame of the camera with more than one person causes the camera to go off. The camera will even print your picture, and never seems to run out of film - no matter how many times it fires. Did it catch your bad side, the first time? Feel free to try again! Dress up, find props, take pictures with your newfound companions to your heart’s content!

The only thing to be wary of is that in every few photos, someone else is in the photo. It’s a smiling, bright-eyed child, despite their transparency compared to you and your companion in the image. Judging by the sitting pose, and the performative smile, the added kid is none other than a reflection of a child who had taken pictures here with Santa long, long ago.

III.

With the size of the mall, and the variety of the stores inside, it’s only natural to think to forage for items that might be of use - there’s got to be something left behind here that will help you, right? Or a portal home?

Not too far from the department store you’d wandered in from, there’s a clothing store with an… interesting problem, for lack of a better word. The store has been overrun with rats. Big ones, too, scurrying about the floors and what’s left of the shelves, gnawing on what remains of the carpet and the remnants of cardboard packaging. Anyone sane would steer clear of this mess!

But, there’s something off about this store. Not only do all the rats somehow stay mysteriously contained within the walls of the store, never scurrying out of it, and with no signs of other stores being infested at all, but there’s also something that’s very familiar to you in this store. It could be a weapon, an item of clothing, or something as simple as your most favorite phone charm - point of the matter is, the rats have a hoard akin to a dragon’s behind the cashier’s counter, full of trinkets and belongings to all who have come through this place. They’ll work to keep their paws on what they have, too.

If you want your special something back, you’ll have to brave the vermin.



NAVIGATION

Comments

azula | a:tla

[firelords]

( one. ho-ho-hold-up! )

⟪ azula is painfully aware of the other person passing through manic elf nightmare land. how can she not be? no one’s to be trusted, not back home and certainly not here. the elves seem to add to her agitation – it’s their lifeless little eyes that feel as if they’re following her. and they’re everywhere, and now and again, it seems as if she’s looked at one before and seen it in a different position.

she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. nothing’s off here.

nothing’s off until bony fingers close around her left wrist, and she tries to pull away, eyes open and wild.⟫

What are you doing?

⟪ it’s a moment of disconnect before she realises it’s not the other person who is holding her wrist ever more tightly, but one of the vicious little elf things. ⟫

Make it stop.

⟪ ‘cause clearly this one’s on you. ⟫

( two. court painter, but make it worse )

⟪ it’s not picture day in azula’s world. maybe it’s the slightly smeared make-up (even if she’s been here a short while, what little can be found in terms of still-useable products take some getting used to). maybe it’s the do-it-yourself-haircut. maybe it’s the dark rings under her eyes.

maybe it’s the fact that her mall-gathered clothes have seen better days even before she put them on. maybe that's why she stares at the 'throne', but doesn't sit down, and instead just plans to pass it in her ongoing search for whatever will pass for food today. ⟫

What was that?

⟪ the flash, like lightning! she turns to the person with her, eyes narrowed, suspicious. evidently, she’s keen to blame the phenomenon on someone – right up until there’s a noise coming from the contraption opposite the throne-like chair. she’s never encountered a camera, nor anything that can print a picture, so this could be a teachable moment. ⟫

( three. rat me out )

Seen some friends?

⟪ she’s passed the rat shop a couple of times now, only paying the barest minimum of attention to it, even as some people seem to stop and stare. honestly, azula isn’t squeamish, but she is a princess, and she has spent all fourteen years (and change) of her life in a palace. rats are certainly not something she is about to bother with, or particularly keen to get close to.

except her absolutely unnecessary comment does come with a sidelong glance, and then there’s a flash of recognition as she looks past the scurrying animals and to a shelf at the back. ⟫

Change of plan. You’re coming with me.

⟪ and she’s about to head straight for rat-land, with you in tow, preferably. ⟫

( wildcard )

⟪ ooc: want a more specific starter? want to try any of the other prompts? hit me up with something random or pm/pp me @ nehelenia and we can figure something out. assumed cr welcome! azula is from verrrry late in the s3 game, so she’s not doing so hot right now, but y’know. that’s life. ⟫

3

[oraculi]

The hell I am.

[He is unmoving. Less, admittedly, because of the rats (although those too) and more because of, hm, the bossiness of this girl. He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, shifting his weight each time a rat comes a little too close to the entrance.

He will kick them, if he has to. Back off, rats.]

That's the right way to get your foot gnawed off, but you go ahead if you really want to.

[firelords]

Oh, don't be a coward.

⟪ she stands a little straighter, eyes a little sharper. to be frank, she needs him: not to get rid of the rats, there's fire for that, and not to protect her, because she doesn't trust a living soul except her father.

no, her problem is a little more simple: she's five foot tall on a good day, and the item she's spied, the royal hairpiece worn by the reigning fire lord, is up on a shelf. she can climb it, sure, but climbing, potential rat-wrangling, and all of that while trying not to set the store, and by extension potentially the rest of the mall on fire? big risk. two-man-job. ⟫

I'll get you something in return.

⟪ maybe. ⟫

[oraculi]

Like what.

[He does not believe her. He also is under the false assumption that he's going to do literally all the work, from rat stompin' to grabbing the stuff, so his motivation is, hm, minimal.

Not nonexistent, though. There sure is a pretty bottle of amber liquid that he'd got his eye on, and it's why he hasn't just walked off.]

Actually, better question, sweetheart: you got a plan, or you just looking to get some poor sucker to get et while you grab your stuff?

[firelords]

⟪ sweetheart? she bristles like a cat-owl in the rain. this is no way to be addressed. ⟫

I am - ⟪ if the way she starts is sharp, then the way she stops must be, too. unknown error, title not found. she's the princess, then there was her coronation day, and after that, she would have been fire lord – but the agni kai had gone all wrong. is her brother dead or alive? did she lose to the waterbender but win the war? if she gets the hairpiece, this will all be solved. there'll be clarity, which she is sorely lacking.

the thought she'd started out loud ends unfinished, but she juts her chin forward. ⟫

Of course I have a plan. ⟪ she lifts her hand and lets a bright-blue flame flicker from her palm. ⟫ Do you see the golden ornament at the top of the back shelf? That's mine. I'll take care of the rats ⟪ her lips quiver into a smirk at the thought, and the flame licks a little higher ⟫ and you grab it for me. If there's something you want, I'll keep them off while you get that, too.

⟪ the flame dies, she clenches her hand into a fist. she's got something else up her sleeve if this fails, if there's nothing in there he wants. many have trouble crossing over to the other half of the mall, but azula doesn't need to rely on the wire contraption. that's the next offer, getting him something from across the abyss. ⟫

one

[skeletonize]

( harrowhark has been wandering through this section of the mall, pondering the meaning of christmas. quite literally, actually. she determined some time ago that this place was ancient enough to be considered prehistoric (in her perspective, at least), perhaps even older than the early post-Resurrection facility that had rested, dormant, beneath the crumbling palace of canaan house on the First. it must be some custom or ritual from the time before the Resurrection, which, as it pre-dated anything the nine houses had recorded, meant that she knew jack shit about any of it.

apparently, it had something to do with elves, toys, sweets, and labor. how utterly saccharine and garish.

she is also aware of the other young woman who peruses the dusty remains of this santa's workshop. typically, she would have left, preferring solitude, but there were enough strangers in this place that she'd had to give up on that gambit. instead she kept a surreptitious and wary eye on her, just as paranoid and mistrustful as azula, though perhaps keeping it a little closer to the chest.

the dark-robed figure stands a little straighter at the first exclamation, turning a hooded head in her direction to see what was going on. alarmingly enough, one of the formerly-inert figurines had faced the stranger and wrapped its hand around her wrist, vice-like, keeping her pinned in place.

it takes harrow a long moment to realize the second statement was directed towards her. she focuses on the stranger, painted face only vaguely visible in the gloom beneath her hood. she takes a few cautious steps closer, observing the situation.

after a long moment: ) There is nothing animating it. ( no thanergenic signatures, anyway, though that was relying heavily on the assumption that the magic harrow was well-versed in was the same as what haunted this corpse of a building. )

Surely it can't be that strong. Wrest yourself free.

[firelords]

I'm trying.

⟪ that's hissed. azula would like to say that she isn't trying, but she is, to no avail. the grip around her wrist is painfully tight and it's not letting up.

she glares at the hooded stranger, but can't detect a lie – though that doesn't mean much here. the very building is treasonous. with her free hand, she tries to break the figurine's grip – she knows that if the thing catches fire, she might wind up burning herself just as much.

she knows that for a whole moment before she loses her temper, raises her free hand, creates a blue flame, and near doubles over as the grip tightens all the much harder. ⟫

It's going to break my wrist.

⟪ she sounds almost stunned. ⟫

[skeletonize]

( she is surprised that the animatron was able to exert so much force; it doesn't really seem equipped for it, or at least not in the way it's constructed. harrowhark doesn't know much about machines (and certainly not ones so devastatingly ancient as these), but she knows more than perhaps any other necromancer alive about skeletal constructs, and she is well-aware of their weaknesses. a skeleton on its own is not very strong, simply because it does not have the mechanical force or weight that flesh, muscle, and blood would lend. she has spent many a restless night perfecting her own theorems to make up for these shortcomings as much as she was able.

she is impassive under the withering force of azula's glare, her own gaze still fixated to the wrist caught in the thing's grasp. she can tell the strain of the bones, how the radius grated at odds with the lunate, scaphoid, triquetrum, pistiform. if it went on for too much longer, all of those delicate bones would be reduced to popcorn.

her thousand-mile professional interest sharpens into a razor-like edge at the blue flame — radiating with actual heat, unlike the thanergenic flames conjured by the Fourth and the Fifth. but she can think more on that later.

harrow sweeps her hood from her head in a flourish that almost looks practiced in its dramatics (it isn't; she's just like that). ) Don't move. ( she reaches to one ear and removes one of the tiny studs of bone which line it, kneeling down between azula and the animatron so she can press it to the shabby, cracked tile.

as fast as one could blink, bone streams out of the space between her fingers like some sort of macabre beanstalk: humerus sprouting and flowering into the three joints with the radius and ulna, though these are not perfectly anatomical as she would prefer. instead of ending in a wrist and hand, they taper into sharp points, the osseous matter leading along the lateral line sharpened to an edge.

it's only one more second and the make-shift skeletal sword slams down into the arm of the animatron, pulverizing the bone to chips and ash but also slicing clear through the arm at the elbow joint.

whether or not she just gave azula a very unfashionable bracelet in the aftermath of this, however, would just have to be seen. but one step at a time. )

two

[knifegf]

[ villanelle, who was observing the camera from behind with her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants, retracts back with a tiny gasp when it suddenly flashes off. she huffs, annoyed at how flustered she got, and then looks to the angry teen at the chair. ]

Wasn't me. The camera must be automatic.

[ she shrugs, challenging her narrow gaze with wide eyed confusion mixed with indifference. no lies here! ]

[firelords]

⟪ the woman's not lying, not as far as azula can tell (though, let's be real, she might have met her match here without realising it).

'camera' is a mystery, though 'automatic' is not. there's traps like that these days, one of the many ingenious inventions used by the fire nation. ⟫

What did it do?

⟪ she looks down at herself as if scanning for some unfelt injury, but she finds nothing amiss, except for nagging curiosity. she stalks closer, like a wild animal, to examine the contraption for herself. ⟫

[knifegf]

[ there is an obvious answer here, and villanelle has to take a moment to pause. she carefully drops her face down, eyes still wide, looking only mildly horrified. ]

You... don't know?

[ it sounds like she has bad news to share but is worried about what reaction it will garner. ]

[firelords]

Out with it.

⟪ she swallows the 'peasant' that's on the tip of her tongue, because she does sincerely want an answer.

that's the kind of thing that counts for progress with azula. ⟫

three

[teaserving]

[The way she orders Abbacchio just makes him bark out into a laugh and he folds his arms.]

The fuck I am.

[It's not even on the concern of the rats. Which is... well, they are a little concerning, more in that their numbers could probably be devastating, but he's dealt with worse spots.

Mostly, he just isn't eager to get bossed around by yet another teenager in his life.]

[firelords]

Who do you think you are?

⟪ she stops sharp and fixes him with the kind of look that had her servants shrink and bow and plead.

defiance is a new and foreign thing to azula, and she doesn't like the taste of it one bit. it shakes her, too, somewhere under the anger – if she's not feared, what is she? ⟫

[teaserving]

Someone who's dealing with a brat, apparently. What are you, twelve?

[Legitimately, he doesn't know who he is dealing with, but he's long since stopped caring about that particular fact ever since he woke up in a dank pool of water and his chest whole. Not a fact he needs to go around sharing, but he certainly has no idea who or what this girl's deal is.]

Look, give me a good reason to give a damn about the rats and whatever you're looking for, and maybe I'll lend a hand.

[firelords]

I am old enough to rule a Nation.

⟪ that sounds better than fourteen, doesn't it?

weirdo's got a point, though: she's not really sold her idea to him, now, has she? deep breath, though really, she can't seem to find a way to actually look calm. ⟫

Do you see the box at the far end? ⟪ she has the good sense to point, at least. it's black, made of metal, with the symbol of a red, three-pronged flame on the side. ⟫ Weaponry meant for the Fire Navy is delivered like that. Whatever is in there, it's useful.

⟪ she grits her teeth. ⟫

And it's probably more than one.

two

[oomfies]

[ Despite the look she gives her, Lottie doesn't really take Azula's suspicions to heart (okay, she totally does, but she's technically the adult here and she has an image to keep up). Which is why she simply replies with a: ]

What year are you from, again?

[ This is after the second flash from the (self-automated, she thinks??) camera. Lottie bends her knees to snatch the two photos off the ground, using her other hand to dust them off. ]

[firelords]

The year 100.

⟪ the thing is, the question's pretty simple, but it grounds her enough to prevent her from going off on a tangent at poor lottie. ⟫

Oh. AG, not BG.

⟪ as if that makes it any more clear. she steps closer, though, to look at the paper (at least she thinks it's bits of paper) in lottie's hand as well. it's –– ⟫

It's like a portrait. ⟪ she frowns, visibly unhappy with the result. for one: it's not as dramatic as she'd thought. for another, the other woman looks gorgeous even in the picture, while azula looks... exactly like a fourteen year old who hasn't slept properly in some time and, well, cut a chunk of her bangs off not that long ago. not perfect, not perfect at all. ⟫

[oomfies]

[ AG.. BG?? Does Azula actually think she paid attention in school to even know what that means? While flattered (and still terribly confused), that answer gives her an idea of what's going on - although, maybe not as much as that particular grimace she gives at the photo in her hands. ]

Kinda. It's like the selfies I take with my phone? [ You know.. The thing you always see her do for virtually no reason, entirely unprompted!! ] It's called a photo.

[ Speaking of, she decides to just.. Flip the photos to face each other, and save it in the front pocket of her backpack. From experience, she knows what it looks like to take a photo personally (literally, literally she does).. And she figures maybe just putting it away will save her a possible argument. Maybe make the sour expression on this little girl's face a little less.. Hm, sad to look at. ]

Usually, they don't do that, though.. Take photos by themselves. It's a person that does it?

three

[scrambledegg]

[And this is one grown ass man who practically backs up a step or two at the mere thought of approaching what sounded like a literal rats nest. The usual furry nuisances he deals with are bad enough, but at least they aren't carrying disease like the average rat.]

Oh nonononononono, I don't think so! Rats carry more than three dozen different types of disease you know!

[AND JUST ONE IS TOO MUCH IN HIS OPINION.]

What's so special about this store anyway?! If you want clothes so bad you'd be better off making something yourself! At least it'd be clean!

[firelords]

Do I look like a peasant to you?

⟪ peasants, seamstresses, whatever – she was born far above such manual labour and can, in fact, not even sew a button to a shirt, not even if her life depended on it.

he's kind of hit a sore spot as well: she knows that what beckons her in the rat shop should be something less... mundane. if it was at least a proper armour, but it's not: she's really well and truly after a set of robes nicely displayed in the glass front of the shop, dangling by a hanger and ripe for the taking. just the thought of clean clothing, fire nation made, familiar and dignified –– ⟫

Do you sew?

⟪ ... hey. it's worth the question. ⟫

1/2

[scrambledegg]

[As if on cue, he does a full spin on a heel and throws his arms back, the gesture causing the tail ends of his jacket to lift just a little bit, ending with a flourish that proudly presents the clothing he's wearing.]

If it's finery you're after, I'm not half bad if I say so myself! Hohoho!

[scrambledegg]

But I don't work for free. Even if I did, I've neither equipment nor materials either.

[He's also just happy they aren't talking about rats anymore though.]

1

[fireglowup]

I didn't move it!

[Which is a pretty inane response, but nobody is better at inane responses than Zuko. In any case, the thing to do seem to be to get it off her wrist, which he attempts to accomplish by... physically prying it off, to no avail. What a surprise.]

What is this thing? [And how the hell did it move so fast? Both of them look away for one second...]

[firelords]

It's part of this shrine.

⟪ this has to be a shrine of sorts, right? all these gaudy decorations just scream of something fools would place their faith in. leave it to azula to pretend to answer a question, but really not answer it at all.

she kicks at the thing's chest, and she's almost sure she can feel something budge. she smirks, kicks it harder, but it's not the hand that comes lose, it's the entire elf that falls back.

if he's got his senses about him, he might be able to catch her before she does a nosedive into an assortment of grab-happy elves. or maybe she falls just stupid enough to push him in. maybe things are merely about to get a little worse for azula. ⟫