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collectedmemes2020-08-08 11:55 am
collectedmods) wrote in collectedmemes2020-08-08 11:55 am
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TEST DRIVE #2
TEST DRIVE #2
Hi shoppers! Welcome to the second Test Drive Meme for COLLECTED. A few things before we get started:
» This TDM is open to any players who are interested in applying. Collected is an invite-only game, meaning that invites come from being on the mod plurklists, but for this round, our TDM is open to anyone who has an interest. If you are interested in applying but do not have an invite, please PM our mod account (
collectedmods) with a link to your toplevel on this TDM and we will extend an invitation to you! Please note that you can only reserve and apply if you have an invite. » As was the case in the first TDM, TDM threads are not canon. Because of this, feel free to assume CR for the ease of threads.
» While we’ve listed out some prompts here, feel free to make up your own prompts using the setting, or use any of the prompts from our last TDM as well!
» 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! 🧡
PROMPTS
Have you ever been to a parking lot circus? Well, they exist, and you’re in luck - the circus has come to town! Or rather, it’s come to the mall. For a limited time, a big top has appeared in the dusty, desolate parking lot of the mall. You’ll find a big tunnel vacuum sealed to the front doors of the mall that allows access to and from the tent, so how much could it hurt to go inside?
The tunnel and tent seem to have been crafted with the same skill as the mall was - it somehow keeps the toxic air from outside out. The only difference between the mall and the tent is that the big top doesn’t do as good of a job of keeping the blistering heat out - it’ll protect you from burns, but it’s going to be pretty hot in there underneath the summer sun! Be sure to bring a cold drink on your way in.
Inside the tent, you won’t find any staff or performers, unfortunately. Everything inside the tent seems to be in mint condition, though, strangely enough, as though restored to its former glory - not unlike how some of the stores in the abandoned mall revert back to their pristine states sometimes. While there’s no performance to catch, there is plenty to look at and experience:
I.
Right after coming in through the fun tunnel, the first thing to your right is a collection of popcorn machines, the same kind you’d see at an amusement park where kernels must be poured in. You’ll find several unmarked bags of popcorn right near the machines, and they look decidedly not rotten, unlike most of the food in the mall.II.
Things are never that easy and simple here, though! Pop a bag of these bad boys and consume some of it and you’ll find yourself with one of the following afflictions:
A. Caramel corn flavor: Loss of sight. Hopefully you trust your companion enough not to attack or steal from you, because you’ll need to navigate to somewhere safe until this one wears off!
B. Extra butter flavor: Loss of hearing. No matter how hard you try, it seems you can’t hear anything around you anymore! Learn to communicate non-verbally with your companion, and quick!
C. Cheddar flavor: Literally just food poisoning. You won’t be feeling so hot!
The only saving grace of these cursed popcorn bags is that there’s an antidote to be found if you have a careful eye: an inscription on the popcorn machines appears once they’ve been warmed from use, and it says, in the case of illness, have a taste of each flavor to get back to square one! You’ll have to suffer a bit more to get back to normal quickly, but.. it’s better than waiting out the effects, right?
While there are no performers to be seen, their costumes can be found in the wardrobes in the back of the circus. They are typical of what you’d expect of a circus: colorful, frilly, and easy to put on, given their stretch. There are even props and accessories lying around like clown noses, jewelry, hula hoops, juggling balls, the whole nine yards. Given the horrible state of all the clothes and other fun items inside the mall, it might be tempting to take some of these outfits and items to repurpose them for your own wardrobe and use.III.
But be careful: donning these clothes or taking these items will give you the abilities of that circus performer. Wear or pick up anything belonging to a:
A. Clown, and you’ll feel like you need to make your companion laugh. Whether that’s through corny jokes, physical comedy, or other means, you won’t be able to resist.
B. Trapeze artist, and you’ll be blessed with great flexibility, and feel utterly fearless. Maybe that translates into being unafraid to speak your mind, or maybe you’re feeling brave enough to walk the tightrope - either way, nothing’s scaring you anymore.
C. Animal tamer, and you’ll want to train your companion to do tricks and follow your will (and not in the fun way, unless you’re into that).
Costumes of all kinds are here, though, so feel free to find anything that might belong to a circus performer and have the costumes possess you!
All good things must come to an end, sadly. Whatever material the tent and tunnel is made of is not completely as sturdy as what the mall is built of - and after a fun day of activities, the tent and tunnel will begin to deteriorate and be destroyed.
Due to the radioactive sun outside, the top of the tent and tunnel will start to burn and get holes in it eventually, which will let in toxic air and harmful rays - not only that, but fires will start catching inside the tent as well. You’ll need to high tail it out of the circus and head back to the safety of the mall unless you want to fry in the horrible conditions outside. Exposure to the sunlight from outside will give you painful burns and welts, and it’s near impossible to inhale the thick, poisonous air from outside without keeling over.
While you’ll be able to survive limited exposure, it’s not wise to get stuck out here. Besides, you’ll find that upon returning to the mall, your wounds will mysteriously begin to heal, slowly and painfully. So, run quickly, and make sure not to leave anyone behind!
no subject
but perhaps the reason why she feels emboldened to do something like that is because, regardless of what happened and for what purpose, gideon is standing before her — the core of her being is currently not being burned for all eternity in a lyctoral crucible. of course, the issue of her being in harrow's body is another existential nightmare, but knowing that she hasn't been utterly consumed takes some of the edge off of the overwhelming guilt and despair.
up until this point, harrow had been keeping the analytical portion of her brain pinned down by force, but her grasp over that had only ever been finite. now she turns and begins to pace, one hand at her chin, mentally observing the issue from all angles. ) Don't be absurd. This isn't one of your science-fiction rags. ( actually, given the full picture of everything that was going on, it really could be, but... no, harrowhark was not going to accept something like that. it was simply too pedestrian; a warped misunderstanding of what seems to be at play here. she is certainly no metaphysicist, but she has an idea that seems to make more sense. )
Imagine, instead, that during our time at Canaan House, a copy of myself was created, split away from the First, and brought here. Entirely unwitting of what had occurred, the original Harrowhark continues on throughout — everything you have described — to the point the same happened for you on, what was it you said, the "most fucked-up, awful, very bad day of your fucking life"? ( at this point she stops, turning over one shoulder to look with faint discomfort at her shades-wearing body double. ) This is, of course, all conjecture. I have been here roughly a month, by my estimate, and we still do not have an answer as to how we were brought here, or for what purpose. It doesn't matter. What matters is: we are both here by means through which we can assume what we know and remember has not been tampered with by an external source.
( a beat, and then: )
Who the fuck was stupid enough to try to assassinate God?
no subject
[ it sounds like it could be the punchline to some terrible cosmic joke. it is absolutely not delivered like one. if anything, it sounds mostly like gideon would rather fucking die than elaborate right now. which is probably why she rotates straight back into harrow's explanation of- ]
Got it. So just stele-free travel and perfect, living clones, nothing stupid like time travel. That's reassuring. [ but she's not actually trying to argue with harrow right now, and she's more than happy to nod as the explanation finishes sinking in. ] Hey, works for me. We can worry about the how later, right? Right now, we're both stuck here. That's what matters.
[ whoa, hey. that sounded... kind of reassuring? don't get her wrong, nonagesimus. that was absolutely not intended to be reassuring. any tones of gratefulness for be able to see harrowhark nonagesimus again are entirely imagined.
god, she's so close she could reach out and touch her. she very nearly does. ]
no subject
there is so much to break apart and break down in those few sentences that for a full ten seconds, harrow completely whites out, reverting to crass, base instincts. ) I see. Well, that must have been quite an Oedipal conundrum for you, then.
( AND THE FUCKED UP THING IS THAT SHE JUST MEANS HER ASSUMPTION THAT HER MOTHER (A REVENANT) WAS POSSESSING THE BODY OF A WOMAN SHE KNEW GIDEON TO HAVE FANCIED (who was not dulcinea septimus?? a lyctor?!), AND DOESN'T EVEN INFRINGE UPON WHAT SHE DOES NOT KNOW, WHICH IS THAT THE TARGET OF SAID ASSASSINATION WOULD BE HER FATHER—
regardless, as calmly as she had said it, harrow is convinced that within the next ten seconds, she will have her own lifeblood leaking from her ears, soon leading to death by catastrophic brain hemorrhaging. her promise to gideon would mean nothing if her brain gave up on its own. )
You know nothing you've said makes any sense.
( she lifts both hands to knead at her temples. two lyctors (and the corpse of a third), attempting to kill God? that's impossible. his Fingers and Gestures were not and should not be capable (and perhaps that was why it had only been an attempt). she is still attempting to stymie a skull-cracking headache, eyes squeezed shut, when she continues in an exhausted tone, ) It's merely the explanation that best suits the facts at hand.
( she lowers her hands, and her eyes open. she looks to the air above them, as if everything gideon had said had manifested there, monolithic, like a colossal fuck-off rosetta stone which she would have to spend the next few hours — days — weeks? — transcribing information to divine understanding and meaning from. but if she began doing that now, she would be useless (or possibly soon dead). so she forces herself to turn away from it, for now, and she instead turns to gideon. she is silent for a moment here, the blockage of her throat returning; she is disgustingly close to becoming sentimental. but this is harrowhark nonagesimus we are talking about, and no manner of emotionally-fraught pool-bound confessions would make that mutable. )
In any case. Though you arrive late, and in an incredibly inopportune state, ( which, looking at her now, is threatening to make her complete her long, slow journey to "stark raving mad" with record speed, merely considering the implications, ) it's — good, that you're finally here.
( a necromancer without her cavalier is a sorry thing. )
no subject
[ but they can't stay on oedipus and unfortunate connotations about her father forever. more to the point, she'd really rather get off (heh) the topic entirely. so when harrow succinctly summarizes her day from hell by telling her it's complete nonsense, all gideon can do is shrug her bony-ass shoulders. ]
You're the one with the head for formulas. I'm just reporting in.
[ it sounds insane to her too. but harrow hasn't accused her of lying - she's said it's the best explanation they have. which sounds suspiciously close to her necromancer trusting her, just like what comes next sounds suspiciously close to her necromancer being grateful for her presence. she's sorely tempted to tease, to be an utter shit in harrow's moment of weakness.
instead, her hand twitches, as if it intends to reach for harrow of its own accord, and gideon mumbles- ]
Yeah. It's... been a while, hasn't it.
[ nine months of watching harrow in silence, like trying to struggle to the top of a lake in a dream. nine months of gasping sights and sounds and memories where she can find it, in tiny gaps in harrow's brain-based defenses. and now, even with the shittiest circumstances imaginable, harrow is here, speaking to her - being glad for her presence.
her bastard, traitor hand raises, just a little - fingers extending harrow's way from a short distance - and drops. instead, she takes a step back and executes a deep bow, a fairly decent mockery of the kind of the thing drilled into cavaliers from birth. ]
Lady Nonagesimus, [ and there's the shit-eating grin, ] your cavalier, Gideon Nav, will stand at your-
[ that's about as far as she gets before she just passes the fuck out, straight onto her face. the sword in her hands, whether by cosmic mercy or by loaded instinct, is pushed to the side; this close, it should be clear that the blood at her ears is sudden and new. ]
no subject
so the thought of God becoming intimate with those, his Hands and Gestures, she —
might have honestly preferred passing out herself in this moment, or screeching shrilly for her to be more mindful of her sacrilegious comments, but instead she pinches at her nasal bridge, squeezing her eyes shut again. ) Griddle, if you insist on any further pulverizing blows to my psyche, you will only have yourself to blame for any injury to my brain.
( she could accuse of her of lying, certainly. at this moment, she is enshrouding her thoughts in a delicate, gauzy veil of suspension of disbelief, though one where she also quarantines any disrupting thoughts (such as the fact that God, apparently, Fucks) before she loses all coherence. as boorish and unbearable as gideon can be, she has to believe that she would have no reason to lie to her — not unless she has found one in the nine plus months temporal disparity between them, but if that's the case, it is a bridge that will be burned when it is gotten to.
and as for being grateful that she's there, well... appreciate it while it lasts, because it certainly won't (not without caveats, anyway).
harrow wouldn't have been able to pay witness to the aborted gesture, still having her eyes closed as she forcibly shoves everything she has seen and been told in the last five minutes through mental compression. she opens them when she senses the far more impactful movement of gideon stepping back and dropping into a bow — though the image of such a thing being wrought out of her own flesh and bones was an appalling one to her. where it seemed apt for other cavaliers, proper chivalry is woeful and ill-befitting of gideon nav, all because she knows that to be the case and milks it for all it's worth. lady nonagesimus, eugh... she would almost prefer the "tenebrous overlord" nonsense —
but then she collapses face-forward onto the cracked linoleum, causing a small sound of alarm to catch in harrow's throat before she lurches forward, ) —Nav?! ( for the moment forgetting the two burly skeletons that stand guard at both entry points to the area. for a split second she hesitates in reaching out to touch her — her own body, though otherwise spiritually occupied. the situation is awkward as all hell even without a vague worry that the universe might peel away at the seams and crumple inwards if she reached out to touch her, but she does it anyway, at the very least endeavoring to roll her onto her side so she can get a clear look at the tell-tale crimson ribbon of blood flowing from her ear. though momentarily unconscious, she is stable and as far as harrow can tell, there is no cranial injury; therefore she is abjectly useless in anything but trying to narrow down what the hell is happening. the hemorrhaging again? it happened again earlier, also — when she had called her by name...
at the dawn of a more complete understanding of what she had meant, harrow raises the trailing end of one of her sleeves to dab the blood away, murmuring under her breath, ) So, this is what I had done to myself. But, why... ( she trails off, turning it over in her mind. there are the obvious, mortifying, sentimental reasons, to be certain, but... surely there was more to it. does it have to do with the soul...? )