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test drive meme

+ SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER TDM +

SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER TEST DRIVE MEME
It's Chinese for 'Japan.'

Prompt A: Serious Event

A memory is displayed. It's yours, the most traumatic of your life whether it was a terrifying clown encounter or the death of someone you love. It's on a loop for everyone to see. You can enter the memory and take your own place, but no matter how hard you try, you cannot alter the outcome. You're forced to try in vain to change what happened or watch until you decide it's too much and walk away. If you can.

Prompt B: Lighter Event

Welcome to Storybrooke.

You've lived in a quiet town in Maine for as long as you can remember. You are a fishmonger or a diner employee, perhaps you work at the hospital. Whatever you do and whoever you are, it's not the real you. You are cursed and you know no other life outside of Storybrooke.

When the curse breaks (either from True Love's Kiss or, in a more TDM friendly, handwaved way), you have two sets of memories: who you were, and who you are. Do you choose to accept all that you were cursed to believe, or would you rather slip back into your old life? The choice is yours.

Prompt C: ediS rorriM

Use this prompt to test out your mirrors. Are they loyal to the new White Queen or do they think she's too good to be true? Do they long to cross over or spend their days tormenting reals? Whatever the scenario, know that the Queen is watching, and let that guide you - or not.

Prompt D: Choices

Any scenario goes! Thread out your character's arrival, have them act like a long-established resident, let our past events inspire your scene, or write up literally any Wonderland-based scenario you feel like playing with.

Rules

Test drive memes go up every other month. Please note that any threads made as part of the test drive meme don't count towards your activity check, and they can't be used as samples for any future applications. Thank you for understanding, and have fun!

NAVIGATION ♥ RESERVES ♥ APPLICATION ♥ INPUT & INQUIRIES

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Most people, when thinking of the Big, Bad Wolf, don't think of a guy of perfectly average height for about a hundred years ago, with a slightly stocky build and permanently furrowed brow.

That frown gets sharper when she uses his whole name.

"Gren? You know Gren?" A pretty witch, speaking with fondness in her voice, about Gren.

Maybe he tore apart someone she didn't like?

"You're right, never heard of you." He shakes her hand firmly. There's no attempt to squeeze or dominate or that rubbish. "Can imagine what you've heard of me."

Even having seen Grendel, she isn't sure why she didn't expect Bigby to be human in appearance. Maybe it was the stories, or the ways that Gren talked of so many. Not in glamours and all but as the beings they were. So that's how she sees them in her mind.

The frown though causes her to pause a moment. Only a moment though before smiling again. They're all trapped here and if she can do anything to try and help keep the peace, she will. Even if it doesn't work.

"I do. We met shortly after I found myself here," she admits, the smiling lighting up her eyes then. "We've dealt with some things here, and share a mutual friend we have to keep out of trouble." Shawn is so human and so fragile and so very much going to get hurt!

"I didn't expect you to. Not from the same world and all. My own world I was only famous for having disappeared," she admits. "I heard you were the Sheriff for all the others like you and Gren. A bit about how rough things had been. One of the events found me in a bar from your world," she admits, glossing right over the things she's heard. No sense causing any issues with that.

Not just so human. So very average.

He has an instinctive mistrust of... everything, really, but new witches in particular. He's never been a fan of the 13th Floor and their stranglehold monopoly on controlled magic.

"Yeah. They asked me to come and join them as the Sheriff because they'd had problems. Mostly with Bluebeard." Gren was a pest at times, but Bigby never considered him a serious problem, just short tempered. "Trip-Trap bar?"

She nods, especially when he mentions the bar. "That's the one. This place can sometimes catch you up in your past and all you've been through. I think I make it hard for this place sometimes," she says, shrugging. "But there was part of here that looked like that bar. You weren't there though,' she says, pausing and then chuckling.

"They didn't make it seem you were there. Obviously you weren't." She isn't bothered by the snow or the cold, even if she seems a bit chilled, more intense on this man she's heard about. "It's interesting how this place seems to draw some and not others. I'm the only one from my world here."

"I don't go to the Trip-Trap." He's not welcome and he's not really comfortable there most of the time. He's not comfortable anywhere, really, except deep in the stacks of the main office.

Her nose looks a bit of an off colour to him.

"Your world must be a bit less mundane than some if you don't find Gren and his stories off putting."

That is not surprising to her. Not in the least, though she merely nods at that. "We all have our own places where we feel at home," she says, magnanimous, at least. Certainly she's had her own, and why she is outside even in the cold. The mansion is not somewhere she feels secure, not that she's sure outside is any better. Still all their world.

"Off putting." She repeats that, chuckling as she shakes her head. "No, not in the least. My world though can be less so, even if most don't know. I'm... I'm a witch though," she says, still nervous sometimes in admitting it. He may not be the sheriff here, but he is the law, and those in authority make her nervous though it is nothing to do with him.

Well, not about the position, though she suspects Gren or Shawn may not be thrilled with her friendliness.

"And there's others like me in my world. Here though, it's easy to accept different worlds, like your own." She frowns for a moment, a sudden thought that bothers her. "You don't mean because of what Gren is, do you?"

Bigby snorts at that comment, because home is a memory that he clings to but knows is long gone. "Sure," he agrees, amicable enough for him.

Once she uses the word witch, he shows a tiny hint of surprise, eyebrows up. "You're a witch, huh? Known a few witches in my time. Few other magic users." Her nervousness smells sour, rancid, off meat in weak sunlight. He's used to it. He makes most things nervous.

"Not in the way you mean. Fable stories tend to be pretty gruesome to most- mortal like things." He isn't sure what to call her. She's not a mundane. She's not mortal. But that's why she's cooler with it than many. "You not being a mundane mortal would explain why he isn't off putting in that sense. I find him off putting, but that's just because he's an asshole who tries to tear me apart on occasion."

The choice of words is deliberate.

"And let me guess, you're about as comfortable with witches as Gren was when we were in your world, huh?" Well, his memories of their world, but she got the feeling it is a cultural thing. "I've known very few. We're still hunted in my world, and burned at the stake if caught," she adds, chin lifting then. She isn't afraid to be honest about that, to gauge if it's a concern she needs to have from others in Wonderland.

"I don't think I qualify then as mortal like," she admits, smirking a bit at that. "Because I've found very little gruesome about Gren. No more so than my own world." Which is exactly why she doesn't find him off putting.

Though when Bigby describes it that way, she actually laughs. Maybe it shouldn't be amusing, but that sounds exactly about the things she's heard. "Funny. That is how I would say he describes you," she notes, figuring that isn't going to be anything surprising. "I tend to be the one putting people back together though."

"Eh." He doesn't like the 13th Floor, but he's not uncomfortable with them. "I think a lot of the ones back in our world are assholes, but most Fables are. Except the ones who are just giant, fucking nut sacks."

Crooked Man. Crane. Hansel. Jersey. Fucking Jersey.

"I am an asshole. But I don't start fights." He doesn't. He just ends them. "Gren's got a temper and forgets just what I am under this." He pinches his skin, tugging it and letting go. "Doc Sawbones does it for us. When we don't throw hissy fits and decide we don't want arms."

She snorts at that. "Some witches are assholes. I won't deny that," she says, rolling her eyes and thinking about Fiona. "Some are just descendants in my world. Those that inherited abilities they want to use to help others."

Not that she isn't capable of being an asshole as well, and she knows it.

It shouldn't make her smile warmly when he speaks of Gren's temper. She's seen it, though never directed at her, so maybe that's why it's just part of who he is to her and not something to be concerned about.

The expression freezes though, never having been one to intrude about what happened to his arm. Now she wonders and realizes she isn't going to ask him about it. Not Bigby. "Given Gren, it's probably that he doesn't care.'

Not commenting on the rest, not defending him. It's not her place, much as the desire to do so rises up within, not angry with Bigby but emotional enough to want to protect someone that definitely didn't need her trying to defend them.

"Just who or what is Dr Sawbones that he heals what most considers mythical?" She is curious about that kind of healer.

"We're about four or five generations into descendants from some of them. Jack probably has kids from one side of the planet to the other. Same for fucking Charming."

And it isn't just because Charming treats women he respects like shit. Though that doesn't help.

He shrugs and closes his eyes briefly, letting the wind carry scents and fresh coldness over his skin.

"He's one of us. Most of us don't interact with non-Fables much. Keep to ourselves. Makes it easier."

"Again, not so different, though most tend to only have a child or two in my world. Some stopped all together because of the way some of the magic manifests." She thinks about Zoe, knowing she will never have children. Misty hadn't ever considered it before realizing with this talk as things stands, her line could end with her as well.

"Do you troubles with people being around?" Even as she asks, she slides back a step, shifting to pull the shawl tighter around her. It's a thicker one than she wears in summer, but not enough for the snow more than likely. "I know the vampires sometimes have issues with the smells of my garden. I hadn't thought about... It's easy to accept what is seen, which is the point, I'm sure."

She nods at that, trying not to roll his eyes. "I figured he was a Fable, but what he uses for healing. Though the insular life is much easier than dealing with people. I can't blame any of you for that. It's a bit harder here. Which... It's been nice. Not being isolated all the time."

She looks cold.

Ignoring the question for now, Bigby slides off his coat, shaking it out and offering it to her, like a gentleman helping a lady into her evening cloak. "Fables don't age."

Their children can. Sometimes. Grandchildren definitely do. The story and magic weakens.

"No idea. Rarely had need of it."

Misty starts to object, but the moment she feels the warm she can't help but snuggle into it. "I... I'm not used to the cold. It's amazing though. I can't help it, wanting to be out here."

It's an excuse to not go inside. Both because she's enjoying it, but also wanting to know more. Not just about Fabletown but about Bigby as well.

"No one ages here," she points out, noticing that he ignored the question. It nearly makes her smile. He isn't the first to try and ignore the way she smells, that she is more outdoors than human sometimes. "Which makes some things easier," she notes, more for herself than for him.

She considers him for a moment, staring at him curiously. "You don't have to avoid others here, you know. Or even be who you aren't."

Bigby gives off warmth and while not a snow weather coat, it's more than the shawl she's got on.

"As I said, cold doesn't bother me. I was born to it. You might need to head inside in the next hour or so, let yourself warm up again." It's a suggestion, she can do what she wants.

"I'm not very social. Don't avoid people, just don't need much company." He's comfortable with himself. "Not sure what you mean by that, though."

"Probably. Eventually someone will come looking for me, I'm sure," she says, smiling a bit at that. It's nice having others that will worry about her and look for her. It's not something she's entirely used to but it's nice.

"I suppose I can understand that. Didn't have much company before, so learning to adjust to here it here has been nice." And one she wants others to find happiness and joy in if they want it as well.

Pausing then, considering how to word this. "I'm just saying this world isn't a place where normal and human is expected," she says with a shrug. "That's all."

He wonders is 'someone' is 'Gren', because he doesn't feel like fighting with the other Fable right now.

"But there's an awful lot of mundane humans here, even if this place is fairytale land."

There are someones that are not Gren, but it might be Gren who seeks her out as well. Not that she is planning to name him. Not if she wants to continue to try and ease things so her world is as good as it can be.

Which may have meant avoiding Bigby, but that is just not in her nature.

"And they're living in a world where it isn't about their fears and phobias as well. More will defend a witch being burned at the stake here than ever would have back home, after all." Not that she wants to think about the carnage that might happen if someone tried to burn her. It would be bad, and she knows it.

"Don't stand by burning people alive. Or boiling them." He has feelings about those things. "I'm an asshole, but I don't like exploitation or torture."

He and Woody frequently get into bust ups. But they're both giving as good as they get. It's what he hates about the Tweedles, the underhanded wretches.

"Honestly, I never thought you would," she says, meaning it. Nothing she's heard made her think that. "Though... boiling? Why are they boiling people?"

She's been through one of them, and the other just leaves her stunned, staring at him with such confusion.

Bigby shrugs and wishes he had something to do with his hands. This not smoking thing feels great on his nose and lungs, but his hands don't like it.

"People do things to each other." Not humans. People.

Still, water under the bridge. He and Colin patched shit up.

"Colin would love this fucking place."

"Never heard of that. Newest terrible thing I've heard of." And she's heard of a lot as she huddles inside the coat, more from fear and memories than from the cold.

"It's better here than I've seen elsewhere. Here they're doing things to you. Except... except one time." When she saw what happened to Claire. That had been different.

"If I ask who Colin is, are you just going to tell me someone from back home?"

"You should read more fairytales. Plenty of terrible things in them."

Terrible is just part of Fables life. Frequently, Bigby is the terrible that happens.

"Not much else to say, is there? He's-" Bigby's only friend. "A guy who crashes my place far too often. He hates where he lives, up at the Farm, so he comes to stay with me. Nicks my smokes and whiskey."

"I just finished Beowulf," she admits, smiling weakly because it had taken her a while. "And when I read them and thought about them, it wasn't as real. I've seen more than one person burned at the stake, so that was ..." She stops herself, taking a breath. "Does your story cover more than the obvious one?"

She's read Gren's. She would read his as well.

"Oh. He lives on the farm. I see." And she did then. A bit more from that detail. "I noticed you kept reaching for your pockets. You know you can get them from the closet, right?"

"I'm- not like most of the others. My story's old. Long as there's been wolves, people have feared them. Peter. The pigs. Red and Woody and Grandmama. Aesop."

There aren't wolves for every story. There is only one wolf. The Wolf.

"It's habit. I fucking hate cigarettes, but I've been smoking since the Industrial Revolution. Used to having something to do with my hands." He looks at her. "Gren told you about the Farm?"

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