+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

[vitaelamorte]

HAS THIS EVER HAPPENED TO YOU?!

You have stumbled into a new voice, fallen headfirst into a new canon? You're approaching new faces, exploring new scenarios, or rediscovering an old muse? There is novelty, there is excitement, AND YET--



--you're not ready to take the plunge just yet. BUT HESITATE NO MORE! We have just the place to practice or prepare, to warm up or invite a welcome, to mold the muses or to mesh with the premise! We have the

♥ ENTRANCEWAY ♥
TEST DRIVE MEME

► Try out any new characters and new Mirrors here! Have a go at the setting, thread with its current players, and see if Wonderland is a good fit for you and/or your character. Post a top level comment, tag into other people's starters, enjoy yourself!

► Thread your character's arrival, set a scene with them as long-established inhabitant, or let one of our past events inspire you. Any starter is fine, and both prose and comment spam are welcome!

► Please only note that any threads on the test drive meme are not game canon, and cannot be used as part of the activity check OR as samples for any future applications. Thank you for understanding!

► Intrigued? Check out our...

NAVIGATION | INPUT & INQUIRIES | TAKEN CHARACTERS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS

AND THAT IS ALL, run forward, leap, and enjoy! ♥

Comments

[battlefront]

All I got out of that was 'winery'.

[What kind of weird backwards world is this fella from.]

[postictal]

Really, dude?

[Right back atcha, Cloud.]

Where're you even from?

[battlefront]

...a Planet?

[Cloud, that doesn't help.]

[postictal]

Yeah, that really narrows it down. Me too, pal.

[Tim rolls his eyes.]

The U.S.? Europe? Fucking - Canada?

[battlefront]

Gaia...? I don't. Know any of those places.

[postictal]

Gaia.

[He repeats the word flatly. What in the heck.]

Hold up. Are you, like - not from Earth? Are you an alien?

[battlefront]

[...is he an alien.

Heh. Haha. He might as well be at this point, right? The Stigma was taking over, a proud, corroded scar on his left arm. The left arm. Sephiroth was always left-handed, wasn't he? Always out to get him, even in death. Or was it all Jenova? The alien. The Calamity From The Skies.

Is he an alien?

Probably.

Maybe.

Definately.]

No. I'm just... from another world, I guess.

[Stop rubbing at that arm.]

Same as you.

[No, you're not.]

[postictal]

Uh.

[Feels a bit like he opened a can of worms there, but he doesn't really feel equipped to address it. Because. Alien. Uh, no thanks.]

Hate to break it to you, but that's kind of the literal definition of an alien. So I guess, yeah, you kind of are. Good for you.

[battlefront]

['I guess you kind of are.'

His fingers grip the sleeve tighter, feeling a painful shock there. No, no not now. Not now. Keep control, keep standing, just...]

Are you trying to say I'm not human?

[He sounds tired.]

Because it's true.

[Very tired.]

I'm just here to infect your kind and rot the world.

[postictal]

Er - [Once again, Tim is reduced to making inelegant vowel sounds in the face of what looks to be a potential breakdown of some kind? He might not be able to detect what triggered it, but one thing he knows back to front is breakdowns. Mental-physical-emotional distress. His body language reeks of it.

He takes a breath, and forges ahead.]

You're being awfully straightforward, for a parasitic invader. [His tone is placid and light, as if they're discussing the weather.] Wasn't really supposed to be a sore area. I mean, from your perspective, I'm an alien too. Right?

[battlefront]

[Shouldn't be so hostile and bitter about this. He didn't know. Was probably just trying to make conversation. And even the people on Cloud's own world didn't know he was still...

Still just...]

Whatever. Honest mistake. Not like I make a habit of announcing it to the universe.

[Comes out before he can stop his own tongue.]

Some of these rooms are occupied, it looks like.

[You're an outsider. Not an alien. He knows what aliens look like.]

[postictal]

I don't know anyone who does.

[Not that he's ever met an alien, period. The guy looks human. Is this some straight-up Doctor Who bullshit? Or Twilight Zone, maybe. He's got no clue.

Tim peers inside a few of the rooms and hums his acknowledgment. The next door he tries is locked.]

Guess people do live here.

[battlefront]

[There is one person. One who's thankfully not here at the moment.]

I mean, if I saw a guy walking down the hall with a fusion blade I'd probably lock my door, too. So guess this means they're not particularly hostile.

[Yeah, he's still not feeling that good ol' self-confidence today.]

Where are we even going?

[postictal]

[He's going to assume "fusion blade" is the specific term for the giant-ass sword the guy's carrying. Presumably it is.

Tim shrugs as he tries another, and another. Locked and locked.]

No idea. Looking for answers.

[The words have a familiar ring to them. He shudders.]

[battlefront]

[He shrugs again, this one a bit more half-hearted.]

...eh. I'm not in a hurry.

[Alien. You're an alien. Ran away from home so you could just disappear. Well, now you've really disappeared, huh? They'll move on without you. People move on.

Sit and die alone in a church. Get a nice view for whatever deity is out there controlling all this. Give them a good chuckle.]

I'm sure they'll come to us if we keep looking.

[postictal]

Maybe.

[He's not really about that if it happens. Doesn't matter. He could be - accused, charged, assaulted, whatever. He's fairly certain that whatever outcome might be derived from this exploration, he's deserved it a thousand times over.

He opens another door, wanders inside with his hands buried in his pockets.]

This one's empty.

[battlefront]

[Sharing a room? Something he hadn't thought about until now. Keeping someone else's company, it was...

A risk. As long as he didn't put his hands on him, it should be okay. Right? The Stigma only affected where the victim had touched. He has it covered.

Can't be responsible for more deaths.]

Nobody's stoppin' us. Seems like it's safe.

[It never is.]

You want me to find another?

[postictal]

[This is seriously weird. Like it's just...open and waiting for him. Tim glances back at Cloud, eyebrows raised in mild shock.]

You mean like...roomies?

[battlefront]

...

Room acquaintances.

[Roomies implies they're friends. They barely know each other.]

[postictal]

[There's...no particular reason why they should. Granted, there's no particular reason why they shouldn't, aside from Tim being a hideous stain on the life of everyone he knows and being the cause of everyone's untimely, unlikely, improbable deaths.

But hey! No need to worry about hypotheticals, right?]

If you want. I'm not really picky. [Gee, how flattering.] I mean - if you're not picky either.

[battlefront]

[The man doesn't want to be his friend. They're doing this out of survival. They... they barely know each other, right? There's no attachment or anything involved.

...right?

You only met them once and you're friends?

Isn't once enough?

...not his memory. Unimportant. Focus.]

If there's only one bed, I'm fine with the floor.

[postictal]

Nah, I'm fine with the floor.

[He says it almost in unison which is...mildly weird. Wow.]

I've slept on worse, seriously. Don't worry about it.

[battlefront]

You really don't have to.

[He's still standing in the doorway, which is even more awkward. In a new place with a new companion, he isn't... quite sure what he should be doing otherwise.]

I... uh.

[Rubbing at his arm again.]

I have specific sleeping habits.

[postictal]

You...prefer to sleep on the floor or something?

[Not that Tim's judging. That's not the weirdest thing he's dealt with.]

I'm just saying that, uh, I don't really sleep a whole lot. Never slept well.

[battlefront]

It's...

[Safer that way. Better that way.]

Complicated. I don't have good advice for sleepin' well, though.