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entranceworks2017-03-25 09:44 pm
vitaelamorte) wrote in entranceworks2017-03-25 09:44 pm
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+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +
Is that magnificent voice in your head shakier than you would like it to be? Are you bringing out an old favourite and need to be sure they haven't gone rusty from disuse? Do you need an opportunity to perfect your character's Mirror before sending them out to tag? Or do you simply want to take a look at Wonderland's atmosphere, and get to know some of
entranceway's characters and players?If the fears and doubts expressed towards this piece of fruit
accurately represent your feelings in regards to playing one or more characters in this game, then you have come to the right place! We proudly present the latest edition of the radiant, delicious and vitamin-packed
♥ 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 threads on the test drive meme ARE NOT GAME CANON. They can't 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 | WANTED CHARACTERS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS
AND THAT IS ALL, throw yourselves into the fray, test your drives, and seize the grapefruit! ♥
Thane Krios | Mass Effect
[He knew that death wasn't going to be the end.
As soon as his full consciousness started to rise high enough for him to not only wake up but feel himself waking up, know he was waking up, with the pain of the injury that had killed him leaving him with a bright, cool feeling in its absence (a new one - this was no memory), something not quite hope but anticipation flared in his chest.
Into the Sea -- Irikah... Irikah. Irikah is waiting here. If he could ask her for forgiveness to her face, after all these years, hopefully share pride in the path that their son's moved himself onto...
The flare solidifies and starts to coil, twist, and wind around itself, reliving all-at-once everything, everything, good and bad, that's happened since her death.
And then he opens his eyes, and things become strange. Jarringly so - at the sort of point where it doesn't disturb him - it simply leaves him... hanging in the air, so to speak. Neither grounded nor obviously plummeting to his death.
When he gets up, sees and parses his bearings...
Now he's not hanging. He still isn't plummeting, but - he's in freefall, mentally. With no bottom in sight.
He's not... he's not helped.
He's confused, if anything. And some part of him isn't sure if he really is disappointed by this fact, or of exactly why he would or wouldn't be disappointed. Is it really disappointment? Or is it a -- lapse in the validation of expectations? Would be fair enough...
Except that he's in a garden... of Earth plants, as far as he can distinguish. And not too far away is a similarly human-architecturally-built manor that he has not seen before.
Maybe he's not dead yet, after all...
Whatever that might mean for him, he takes a moment to rest on hands and knees in the garden, muttering (audibly, but to himself) a prayer of hope. Of rightness, in whatever's going on.]
B. Library.
[It's interesting - knowing that it is really over now. That there's no going back. He thought he'd made peace with death already, but...
Having crossed the threshold, so to speak? It's something no one can be entirely ready for. It's something no one's come back from and can't describe for anyone looking to become ready. It occurs to Thane to think - if there is an afterlife for everyone, is this the mental place everyone he's killed has entered into?
Either way, the sense of stillness bothers him. Animate creatures aren't meant to be idle.
And so to occupy himself, he's moved into taking a lay of his surroundings.
He's touring the premises. Quietly - not talking to anyone else, moving about as subtly and efficiently as he can.
Eventually, he happens on the library, and... pauses there.
It's enormous. Larger than the biggest he's seen across space. Stories high, countless shelves full of books with and author credits to some familiar but more thoroughly infamiliar names.
He takes a sample inventory. Steps up to one shelf, inspects some glossy embossed text. Runs a couple of fingers down a couple of spines.
And then steps back a moment, hands clasped behind his lower back. Looks up, takes in and tries to weigh the scope of the place.
He says, quietly, and without a smile or any touch of judgment or irony:]
Enticing.
[The thought that in whatever part of an eternity one spends here, they won't be quick to run out on tools for personal enrichment, that is.]
C. Wildcard.
[If you'd like another prompt, don't hesitate to either make a request or hit me with one of your own!]
TRIPS OVER MYSELF GETTING IN HERE, B!
She's paging through the library's stacks, idly trying to find something that interests her, when she hears his voice.
It can't be. It can't be.
Shepard takes a quiet step back, steps silent and practiced as she weaves towards the source of the sound, and--
It is.
Oh, holy fuck.
Her voice nearly hitches in her throat, and she knows he'll hear her before she speaks from the sharp intake of breath alone as she holds herself ]
Thane?
I DID LOOK AT YOUR SHEPARD'S INFO, AND HELLO, HONEY, YOUR WAIFU'S HERE
And even though he should know better than this, some part of him tries to tell himself that he's hearing whatever trace of voice he's getting in that sound of breathing is misleading - that trace which is enough to freeze him cold, send his spine and upper back chilling.
And to let the initial waves of some of the most vivid memories he's experienced in the past decade of his life come in and touch him. Warm those feelings back out with a tingling by contrast -- all at once. Be alive with me tonight. The blue light through the hospital blinds. Joy. A lift. He coughs. They speak. A light of its own kind. A bright, bright vibration cuts through the dizziness - her mouth against his.
The first words of a prayer. He thinks, her voice distant as he hears it, please, let Kalahira hear her, too.
It cuts out as he speaks out loud. He almost doesn't realize that he has said it out loud - the space straight between remembered and present sensation.
But when he turns, instantly, on hearing what sounds to be her voice, speaking his name...]
Siha...
[And...
It is her.
Flesh and blood. Not the angel he had expected to see after death, no -- and has death come for her, too? Don't let it be so. She has too much to protect... Let her go, if need be, when this is done with, whatever precisely this is.
He'll be happy enough to speak with her, lucidly and all-awake, just one last time.
It's one that puts a light in him to see, nevertheless and in spite of any and every thought he has that could mask or shade it.
It's her.
He speaks again. Now all-conscious. It's meant to be heard, this time, though it still isn't loud. It falters in such a way that it does fold in on itself, start to go a little quiet on the second syllable.]
Shepard...
[He, from his own standpoint, is very recently dead. She was at his side when it happened. Whatever has happened to both of them was, from where he's standing, very recent.
And lacking in immediate explanation. Again, surely, she can't have died (can have, literally speaking - the galaxy isn't a safe place, especially with the coming so-to-speak storm - but again, let it not be the case), but there must be reason...
Reason he'll appreciate.
And take for what it is.
He starts to approach her. A few steady, slow-striding purposeful steps.
And he starts simply but purposefully -- and out of a slight but nonetheless flow-impacting gentle hitch and falter.]
Are you well?
HONESTLY JUST SCREAMS, HUSBANDO IS HOME
Shepard can't say she's ever been religious, or believed in a god. But right now, she's willing to thank whoever's listening as his words take form, as quiet steps get louder on his approach.]
What a question to ask me, of all people. [She laughs, but it's low, and humorless. Just filling space. Diffuse the tension.] You know my life's always-- kind of a disaster.
[She can't stop herself, now, the draw towards him, her steps starting, increasing in pace, until she can take his hand, and it's all she has not to just throw herself into his arms. Instead, she tries to be gentle, reaching out for his fingers, gripping them still like a lifeline to someone she thought forever lost.]
no subject
[Hearing her voice again - it pours water on the reality of the thought that he's died and clears it away like sand off a smooth stone.
In the moment, he simply is, with her again. He locks his eyes on hers, takes her hands, equals the pressure, holds the grip secure and is secured.
His mind isn't quiet. Some of its processes have him retracing his steps through his fight with and Shepard's pursuit of Kai Leng, through to the point where the sight of her and Kolyat (Kolyat. What's become of Kolyat?) standing beside his hospital bed has faded into a state of blindness.
But the fullest part of him is standing in the moment. Held there. By her. With her.
Feeling alive again.
One voice toward the back of his brain thanks Kalahira for it, whatever exactly it is, however long it lasts.
He is blessed for it.
Thane smiles faintly, a little ruefully.]
Complication pursues you, siha.
[Subtle warmth in his tone.]
But you are unhurt, then?
[The inflection is almost statement-like, but the question is implicit.
His expression starts to neutralize, voice starts to thin slightly. He blinks a couple of times rapidly, before...]
What happened? After I --
[ -- and he... cuts off there. His eyes momentarily flick down in the... distracting gap in knowing what to call it, now. What to say really did happen. What's happening now.]
that song ooooh my god
This is different. He knows. She can see it on his face, the momentary lapse in terminology. He knows.]
I'm fine, it's... hard to explain what's going on right now. This place isn't really on Earth, it's, kinda... a pocket dimension? Out of regular time and space. So back home, it'd been a month or two, but, past that, I've been here almost a year.
[Which is... a lot of time to process what happened, but it's Shepard, so, that got shoved under the rug right quick.]
We had... you saved the Salarian diplomat, and they pledged their forces to help with the Crucible. After that it was kind of a whirlwind. We ended up retaking the quarian homeworld, finding Miranda's father, figuring out Cerberus was even deeper in their own horseshit. Fist-fought my own clone.
[A pause. God, a lot happened.]
It's... yeah. There's a lot to tell.
[She grips his hands a bit more, feeling the texture of his skin to ground her.]
I missed you.
I HOPE YOU APPROVED
And... he takes it, as she gives it. Trusts in it, thinks about it as much as he can, but can't... really reconcile it, be sure he can sync right now with all it means, mentally.
Either way. A pocket dimension, is it...? And -- she's seen a month after he... well, without him.
On the bit about the ambassador... he shuts his eyes. He had made one last move that had counted for something, then, at least; grateful to hear that, so, so grateful for it...
And onward into her rundown... Ha -- some mirth, though it doesn't show on his face; it's superseded by simple intrigue. Fist-fighting her own clone, as a last note there - what stories there must stand to be told there, indeed.
Her tightening grip pulls him in a little closer to her.]
And I confess, I had been --
Afraid for you. [It's a rougher admission than he wishes it was - eyes fall again, somewhat apologetically; shakes his head slightly. The feeling's natural - really inevitable, even, at least to a certain extent, but he'd told himself so many times he'd face death peacefully, even knowing what he was leaving behind.
Seems you don't really know how you will feel until the moment comes.]
I would have liked to have been there for those two months.
And yet I... [A smile. Head slightly bowed, traces of a solemn smile on his lips... Un-bows.] I am aware that I... continue to find myself with second chances.
I am grateful for them.
And I am grateful that I could have even one more moment with you.
[However long this last, some part of him things again. And yet, however anyone could come here after death, he finds himself more and more willing to... well, let his spirit lift. There are still questions to answer. There are still doubts to have.
And still... in light of the way he feels right now, before her? The least he can take away from this is at least one more blissful memory.]
I love you, siha.
[And if she isn't resistant to the move - if he senses even a trace of resistance on his loosening his grip on her hand - he'll move his up along her upper arm, bring it to rest just after the joint in her shoulder, gently.
And if that is acceptable by her, he'll pull her in to further close the distance between them. He won't move to kiss her yet, as much as he wants to - the time that she's apparently spent without him could make that strange for her, he imagines, or this closeness under the circumstances could be enough...]
I DO!!!!
Well, knowing and doing are two very, very separate things.]
I'm grateful for you. always.
[She can tell he's a little apprehensive, testing her boundaries, never taking without proper procedure, but she can't help herself as soon as he's closer, and she runs her hand up the side of his face, feeling the familiar ridges and movements to cup his chin.]
I love you too, Thane.
[And she pulls him in this time, just like others known back in her ship, back in the stars, and still they meet again for a precious few moments in a space they both have wanted to find again as soon as they were separated from it.]
A!
Less usual is the appearance of someone familiar to them. It has been many months since another has arrived from their world. All others had left, save for Shepard-Commander.
After a moment of chattering and indecision, they move to help him up.)
no subject
He doesn't do either before looking.
And when he does...
The calls to act and move on instinct don't disappear, but... they lose some of their stable footing.]
Legion.
[He says the name out loud partly for correction if he's mistaken - and whether or not he is, a geth walking a pet. A sight that'd have caught a big chunk of the galaxy off-guard, probably.]
I was dying.
[And that, he puts forward as a more... possibly-constructive, context-providing alternative to asking an open, vague question. The Normandy crew went their separate ways, after what happened to Shepard, and he doesn't know what became of Legion after that. Maybe they are both dead, and maybe this is something different.]
no subject
(A simple greeting to match his own.)
We are dead as well, though data indicates that this is not the afterlife.
(After a moment, they decide to elaborate.)
There are others who are alive in this location.
no subject
He asks, as he finishes rising, straightening himself up:]
Where is this location?
[And then, fully-steadied, turns his head to look Legion in the light.]
Do you have any sense of how long it's been since you came to be here?
[Related to another question in mind of what kind of data they mean.]
B, because Madison and Reasons.
no subject
That engrossment, however, is part of what caught his attention.
He approached - not too slowly, not too briskly, and from the woman's side. Spoke up keeping his voice soft and restrained - hopefully it should have been at the right level to engage without startling or insisting, in the quiet of the library.
"If you'll excuse me."
He came to a stop in his approach about eight feet away, crossed his right arm in front of him, and dropped into a polite bow. Came up with a slight smile, meant equally out of politeness.
"Are you particularly familiar with the layout of this library?"
He gestured to the rest of the floor they're on with one palm-up wave of a forearm, from his front to his side, and then clasped his hands behind his back.