+ 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]

[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.

[postictal]

Hey, neither do I. If I did, I'd probably be sleeping a lot better.

[Hooray for dark humor, Tim's only bastion in the face of the crawling, existential, eldritch nightmare that's occupied his thoughts for most of his non-waking hours. And for a disproportionate amount of his waking ones too.]

I mean, there's probably more than one empty room. If we both end up needing a bed. Or not needing one.

[battlefront]

Honestly, I just wanna see what happens when someone does come in and sees two guys on the floor. Neither one using the bed.

Just on the floor.

[postictal]

[Tim looks at the other man with the casual lift of an eyebrow.]

Is this normal for you?

it's not gay if it's in wonderland

[battlefront]

Who said anything about us being 'normal'?

it's not gay if ur ace af

[postictal]

Fair enough.

[He blows out a long, slow sigh, and drops into a sitting position, back against one of the walls.]

Hell of a day.

hell yeah ace bros

[battlefront]

[Cloud finally settles more in the room, rubbing at his arm a bit more. He'll... probably have to replace the gauze soon. Maybe sharing a room with someone wasn't the best idea.]

You're tellin' me.

[He still has no clue where his bike went.]

How long you think we're stuck here for?

[postictal]

Beats me.

[He almost reaches for his unfinished cigarette, buried in the pack in his pocket, but...nah. He wants to make those last. Nothing like going through continuous nicotine withdrawal to make him an even better roommate, right?]

Not like I'm one to complain. Wasn't really fond of where I came from, so anything's better than there, yeah?

[battlefront]

[He thought he saw the guy put that cigarette back in the box earlier. His eyes immediately go to that hand reaching for it again, but he simply shrugs, sitting in a nearby chair and leaning back a bit. His own hand is still gripping at his arm, closing his eyes as he feels the room starting to spin lightly.]

Some people love their home, no matter how bad it is. But everyone's different.

[postictal]

[Tim lets that conversational thread dwindle into silence, especially since Cloud hasn't released his hold on his arm. He looks at the other man from beneath lowered brows, concerned.]

You doin' okay over there?

[battlefront]

[Hardly even noticed his breathing getting laboured. This had become such a daily thing that he remembers he doesn't... usually let it show around people. Heh. Should've picked a different room after all.]

Yeah. Just. A long walk. I'm fine.

[postictal]

Yeah?

['Cause it doesn't look like your run-of-the-mill exhaustion. It looks like something that's worse. Irregular breathing, that too-rigid grip - that speaks volumes right there. Especially for someone like Tim, a seasoned breakdown-er.]

'Cause it looks to me that you're having a little bit of trouble. Which is, uh. Fine. I'm sure there's a bathroom or something around here somewhere.

[Just in case, y'know. He doesn't wanna have his breakdown in public. Who would, honestly?]

[battlefront]

I'll... I'll get there myself. Give me a minute.

[It comes out more mumbled than anything, but these spells usually take awhile to die down. Or he'll break into a full-on seizure, and nobody wants that. Get this mess all over the place and the man will probably try to clean it up, which involves touching it, which involves him being dead by the end of the day. Can't have another life on his hands, even if it's accidental.]

Please don't touch me.

[postictal]

Okay.

[He doesn't. He doesn't move from his position either. Honestly, touch as a form of comfort is a foreign concept, particularly for someone who loathes touch from most sources anyway.]

Just, uh...lemme know if you need anything, I guess.

[battlefront]

[Shaking hand. Shocks.

This one's mild compared to the others, but still just as exhausting. Cloud's hand tries to come off his arm to wipe away at... something dribbling out of his mouth, but that hand is coated in the same gunk and he doesn't want to smear it on his face instead. The hand hovers over his chest for a few minutes, finally cracking open an eye to glance at it, but it's bright green and slitted, rather than his usual blue.]

Sorry.

[He closes the eye again. Doesn't want to make this worse than it is.]

Give... give me another minute.

[postictal]

[Yeah, there's definitely some kind of physical reaction there too. Something like blood running out of his mouth, maybe, though he doesn't really want to know what it could be other than blood.

Something vibrantly green slits out from his eye before it closes again.]

Guess you're dealing with some pretty heavy stuff, [he says unnecessarily, unhelpfully,] huh.

[battlefront]

[He's quiet for a bit, trying not to let on just how weak he was feeling. But there's no use hiding it at this point. As long as the man doesn't go around making a big deal of it, maybe they can just keep it between them.

...hopefully.]

Stigma.

[His voice comes out hoarse.]

...don't got this where you're from, huh?