riverviewooc | riverview: test drive meme

Entry tags:

meme: test drive

riverview: test drive meme

riverview test drive meme

Welcome to Riverview's first test drive meme! Feel free to dip your toes in on the test drive meme to try out your character in the setting, play out a mission, and get samples for your application at the same time!

● Reserves are currently OPEN.
● Applications open on March 1st.
● All threads on the test drive meme can count as game canon once the game is up and running.
● TDM threads do not count for Activity Check, but they do count for Activity Bonus Points.

Feel free to use the prompts below or create your own scenario. The setting is built to be flexible, so feel free to make things up as you go.

information resources
premise ● arrival ● setting ● ask a question ● navigation

prompt i: batten down the hatches

If the sky has seemed a little more yellow-green than usual for the past couple of days, there's a reason for that. Meteorologists have been warning of a particularly nasty storm blowing in from the direction of the Delta in the Southwestern part of the Abandoned City.

The Quarantine is about to be hit by a nasty typhoon, and there's a lot to be done. Whether you're helping sandbag the banks of the river, which is bound to be swollen by the storm and flooding, weatherproofing your building, or just huddling indoors for warmth and helping reassure your friends, family, or partner that everything will be okay, it's time to take action!

prompt ii: monster madness

There's been a lot of talk around the Quarantine about the various predators and monsters outside the fence, and how they've been getting steadily more active, crowding the fences, trying to leap over them, seemingly driven by some kind of mania. There have even been increasing instances of predators that normally mind their own business attacking the fences wholesale, slamming into it over and over as if they're trying to find a weakness.

The good news? The fences have been holding. So far.

The bad news? They won't be holding for much longer.

The Perimeter Guard is in a bad way, and it's all hands on deck. They've also sent out a few of the Perimeter Guard Cadets to post up flyers around the city asking for temporary help in fighting off the beasts. So pick up whatever weapon you're best with, hop onto a truck transport, and head on over to the fences to help drive off the monsters and keep the Quarantine safe.

prompt iii: hold your lover close

With a storm rolling in that's going to keep everyone indoors, that might cause power outages, and is just frankly pretty scary, a lot of the clubs, restaurants, and hotels are doing special events to keep everyone's brains occupied and flooded with endorphins.

There are flyers around the city advertising various couples activities: speed dating, dance classes, overnight pool parties, and all-expenses-paid lovers' nights in.

The catch? The great deals only count if you're a twosome. So if you don't have someone to love, hit up speed dating in the indoor courtyard of Riverview's largest mall, or grab the first person you see and take the opportunity.

prompt iv: solution

After a day or two of storm activity, things are definitely not getting better: the rain is torrential, the monsters are attacking with increased energy and decreased rest times, and the distractions are starting to wear thin. Power outages happen off and on, a very rare situation in Riverview Quarantine.

The government has put out an all-points-bulletin imploring anyone with an exploratory spirit to help.

From what government science techs can tell, the storm isn't natural - after all, even the meteorologists were saying that the pressure systems seemed extremely strange. They've managed to narrow the cause to an area in the delta where the storm seems to be originating from, and are broadcasting the general location so anyone with the guts can head out into the storm and try to find the source of it.

Any characters who decide to penetrate the jungle in search of the source will find a device in the shape of a pyramid, with glowing blue edges about a day's walk into the Abandoned City. The pyramid is a malfunctioning weather control device that is causing wild pressure fluctuations and causing the storm as well as making the animals in the jungle aggressive and erratic. Characters can destroy or deactivate the device to end the storm.

This mission can be threaded out however you would like, in groups however large you would like, and more than one team can accomplish the goal.

prompt v: wildcard/network

Whether you're looking for help with a mission or just want to get to know your fellow new arrivals, your character can make a post to the network.

Or you can choose your own adventure and do something else in the setting!

navigation

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Interesting company she keeps. These protectors without borders. He'll want to meet those of them present here, eventually. You see, she isn't wrong. He does like to know all things, at all times, but he prefers to intuit, to read, than to ask questions or make commentary. Talking is, after all, only his third-most preferred method of communication.

But the deed is done. He nods once, in acceptance of her words and then bends to finish his stew in silence. Too many ghosts crowd close in the room now, more than he's accustomed to or especially cares to indulge, and the sooner they're out in the open air the gladder he'll be. He is not, by strict definitions, a haunted man. He has a modicum more self-governance than that. And yet.

And yet.

He sops up the remainder of the juice, pops the last piece of bread into his mouth and then moves to clear his dishes from the table. He's grown accustomed to running water such that it is no longer a mystery, so he turns the taps on and washes his bowl diligently beneath the spray.]

[Wanda lets the silence reign as they eat. The stew is hearty, filling her stomach and warming her from the inside as her mind continues to wander. There seems a depth of meaning in what goes unsaid, what's left only implied, and no doubt she'll mull over their encounters long after they've occurred.

She finishes her food after him, but not much longer, and by the time she rises to deal with her dishes he's finished with his.

Then, there's nothing left for her to do but throw herself into her work. There's a feast to host, and she has a great deal to do before people arrive. Taking James at his word that he's at her disposal, Wanda enlists him to help where she can delegate. She asks him to bring down the easiest stuff first. The disposable plates, utensils, and cups, the donated bottles of beverages, and most of the flowers she's gathered as well. She trusts him to see it all there safely as she continues her work in the kitchen.

There are more dishes to cook, some of which won't keep for long periods like the others. Sweet breads stuffed with berries and nuts. Oven-roasted vegetables. Chicken with herbs and lemon. And three pies ready to put in the oven once everything's underway.

It's five minutes till the start, and Wanda reaches up to wipe her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. She's done an incredible amount of work in a short period of time, and if nothing else it feels like an accomplishment her mother would be proud of. With nearly everything downstairs, she allows herself a moment to breathe before shedding her apron once more and heading downstairs.

There are more people there than she'd expected, a respectable showing, and it doesn't take long for her to see that some of the people who joined brought some dishes of their own, and drinks besides. Wanda reaches up to adjust the wreath of flowers on her head before moving to rejoin James.]

I owe you for your help.

[She would have been rushing around and exhausting herself if it weren't for his help. Perhaps she could have used her powers to bring everything downstairs but she doesn't like the idea of using her telekinesis so casually.]

[He's got a small plate of things he's sampling, the blandest he could find among the festive offerings, and he's standing to one side. His clear preference is for observation rather than engagement. He isn't here to mingle.

But idly, to her,]

I take payment in gold, silver or gems.

[It's playful enough. A nod, perhaps, to her continued belief in his illustrious career of piracy, yet again it gives nothing away.]

[Wanda responds with a low chuckle.]

I'm fresh out of all three. [Nevermind that she wears more rings on her fingers and necklaces on a daily basis than him. And isn't it a strange amusement to be acquainted with a man with whom there actually be a comparison.] You'll have to take a rain check.

[After a pause, she reaches up and plucks one of the flowers out of her wreath and drops it stem first into his front pocket.]

Consider that an I.O.U.

[wow he only wears two rings and has an ear pierced how dare you imply he's some bejeweled vagrant. Flint is smiling slightly is she steps in close, and when she seats the flower in his shirt he's compelled to fish it out again. He twirls it between his fingers, bends to inhale its scent.]

This is a camellia, is it not? From the Orient.

[James, you wear more jewelry than any man or woman on her team, including the robot who literally has a giant gemstone stuck to his (its?) forehead. She watches him pluck the flower out to catch it's scent.]

It may be? I don't know all of the different kinds of flowers by sight, not beyond the more popular types. Roses. Daisies. Tulips and daffodils. [Etc. It certainly adds an interesting layer to what she knows about him, however, that he would know.] Have they made their way to Nassau?

[He twirls it a second time, and then affixes it more properly in the buttonhole of his shirt pocket. He hmms faintly.]

Merchants from all corners of every empire seek to bring civilization to the New World. Flowers, you'll find, are but one luxury the wealthy don't like to live without. Perfumes, all manner of apothecarical things. This flower is used in a variety of teas, and its oil for cooking.

[Joji uses it to keep the edge of his sword keen. It's where he has cause to know this one especially, as the man has a taste for it and Flint has learned to set any stock they find aside for him. He would never admit aloud to doing so, but good men are hard to find and though he does not often stoop to rewarding them himself, gifts left in sight of those they're meant for earns as much goodwill as anything.]

And in floriography, it means admiration. And, I believe, good luck.

[She very much doubts he would have worn a wreath like her own so she's glad he at least accepts the flower, placing it back in his pocket, and better secured.

Since he isn't inclined to hear as much about the future of the world as she could tell him, she's glad that he's at least open enough to speak of the world at his time. She can only imagine history class would have been far more interesting coming from someone who lived in the time, considering how fascinated she is by the tidbits he drops here and there in conversation.]

Does it? [And there are layers to his layers, it seems.] Considering our circumstances here we could all use the latter. The former wouldn't be so terrible either, I think.

[Luck is a thing for madmen and fools. He's been both, and had his share of it. His smile is crooked.]

I imagine not.

[He holds out his plate, laden not only with her offerings but some from the others as well.]

Care for a sample?

I could be convinced.

[It takes so much arm twisting. So, so much. After all of the work she's done she fully intends to enjoy herself. She reaches out to try one of the finger foods there that she didn't cook, immediately popping it into her mouth.]

Which one is your favorite?

[With due amusement,]

Flower, or food?

Both? Whether it's present today or not.

[He seems like he'll answer both of these questions without evasion so she'll be greedy enough to ask for two answers.]

[God, but Thomas enjoyed flowers. The Hamilton estate had gardens, both an aviary and an apiary with servants to tend all three, but Thomas never shied away from the dirt. They acted with propriety at all times when there was the chance of eyes upon them, of course, but one of his favourite memories beyond the walls of the bedroom they sometimes shared is of Thomas with his hands in the dirt trying to explain the etymology of the Sweet William plant. It was named for lovelorn men, Thomas told him, and James had been compelled to listen to his recitation of the poem whence it came rather than to carry on with his report as he should have done. As he would have done with anyone else. He learned with Thomas, that some things could wait.

The Latin name of the plant, of course, was--]

Dianthus barbatus. Sometimes called London's Pride or Sweet William. It symbolizes gallantry. As to food-- hm. [There are a million things he could say. Dishes he learned at his mother's knee. Ones he ate at the Hamilton house. But at his heart, a simple sailor, he can't help but say,] Oranges, perhaps.

[They prevented scurvy, and were not so bitter as the lemons the Navy kept aboard their ships to ward off that dread thing.]

[Sweet William and gallantry. Wanda has half a mind to sit him down and ask him to name flowers and explain their meanings, if only to see when or if he'd finally be stumped. She half expects him to name a similarly unique food or dish, so when he names oranges, her lips draw up into a smile.]

I've always liked them myself. My brother would steal a couple for us sometimes... [When jobs were harder to come by, when they were forced to do whatever necessary to make it through periods when money was scarce. She remembers sitting on swings in a park, peeling oranges together and flinging the peels at each other when they weren't eating the slices within.

It's one of her favorite memories of her brother, even if she'd scolded him for taking such a risk. She'd been too hungry to be that upset with him, and the fruit had tasted so sweet. Thinking of him now makes her feel a sharp pang in her heart, one she talks over before silence becomes a noticeably dramatic and heavy pause.] I haven't found a favorite flower yet, however. Maybe red poppies.

[They're common enough in Sokovia, and red's always been her favorite color.]

[He pops something that looks like battered shrimp into his mouth. Something recognizable at least in this place, is enough for him.

She doesn't know the meaning of the flower, surely, but the choice is suspect in his mind regardless. It's too perfect a coincidence given all the strange similarities they share. He knows she's seen dark, terrible things. Horror sings in her, soft and lachrymose and he looks upon it like a brother. No stranger, he, to horror. Or loss.

He turns the plate on his hand that she may be proffered a small blackberry tart.]

Used as an offering to the dead in ancient Rome.

[No, she doesn't know about the meaning of the flower, that's his forte. She thinks nothing of it when she mentions it, just remembers seeing them grow wild outside Novi Grad at times. Remembers seeing them in small mason jar vases on the tables of sidewalk cafes when the streets are calmer in the spring.

Wanda reaches out for the tart when offered, but she lets out a small snort at his response.]

Of course it is. Fitting. [She shakes her head, giving him a wry smile and a murmured thank you.] Perhaps I should round things out and adopt the pomegranate as my favorite fruit. Food of the underworld as it is.

Edited 2017-02-28 06:21 (UTC)

You could choose to look at it that way. I always felt there were numerous ways to interpret that fable.

[The plate now empty, he takes care to set it with a growing stack of others. It hasn't occurred to him that they're disposable. The notion of using a plate only once is abhorrent to someone to whom every earthly item is something hard-won, he assumes they're just a flimsy modern thing that there will be some miraculous way to clean.]

[Wanda doesn't see fit to instruct him on the disposal of the plates. No doubt it would launch them into an entirely different conversation regarding waste and recycling which doesn't appeal to her at all. Instead, eating her blackberry tart, she lifts an eyebrow.]

I'm sure there are. How would you interpret it, however?

[He hmms faintly.]

I don't believe Hades was the villain classical mythology paints him as. A man consigned to rule the realm of the dead would go mad, and what is a god but the divinity of man given immortality? He merely wanted companionship. Demeter was the one set to cast the world in an endless winter for the safe return of a daughter treated not unkindly. I think Persephone acknowledged she could love and be loved by two people equally, and that it was her choice to split her time as she did.

[He rubs his fingers against his beard, strokes the bristles in a little downward motion. He's not thought about that tale in years, and it held no especial meaning to him, but as he's aged he finds it resonates more keenly.]

[Wanda listens, finishing off her tart as he speaks. He doesn't spin the tale in such a way that it reinvents it entirely, but there's something in the way he tells the story that makes it feel new again.

She wonders if he realizes that his stance on Hades, setting him up to be a man with understandable feelings and needs rather than an outright villain, isn't all that unlike the way he spoke of pirates. Desperate men driven to do terrible things.]

It's rare that people remember that Persephone was a goddess in her own right. For all that the gods had a hierarchy I think I could subscribe to the idea that it was her choice to split her time between two people she loved.

[She lifts an eyebrow.] I suppose this makes my pomegranate just as unfairly villainized?

[A dry laugh.]

Oh, hardly that. They're an evil fruit. Have you ever tried to eat one in a timely fashion? You'll make a casualty of your clothing, that's for certain.

[Though the taste is sweet enough, when one is willing to take those risks. He prefers a less troublesome prize, where all matters save those ascribed to piracy are concerned.]

It's a good thing that I wear red so often then. [It's a signature color of hers, after all.] They always seemed a fruit better savored, however, than rushed through.

[Which may as well be a symbol for their budding friendship. Difficult to get a handle on, potentially messy and best taken at a measured pace than trying to rush it.]

[He's not generally a man that has such time to spare. If he can't eat it one-handed whilst charting a course, loading a gun, shining his boots or barking orders to his men then it's of no particular use to him. The only thing - the only thing - he cares to do in idle contemplation is read. All else is a matter of haste.]

Well, perhaps I'll find the time here to give them a chance at changing my mind.

Unless you're given to diving headfirst into time consuming projects, you shouldn't have too much trouble finding opportunities.

[She'll find him one and surprise him, perhaps. Plus a bag of oranges in case he grows too impatient to make it through the whole thing. Though if Wanda had to guess, he'd strike her as a man possessing too much self-control to let impatience get to him quickly if he put his mind to it.]

[He is entirely given over to diving headfirst into whatever can keep him from an idle life. It is will that drives him, yes, but he harbours a suspicion that the day he stops moving forward towards his inexorable goal is the same one all his sins of the past catch up with him. He has no mirror to face Medusa, he will be cast over again in granite and blown like dust to the unfettered wind.

He dreams of a place an oar will be mistaken for a shovel. But he has long given up the idea of seeing it for himself. Peace is not in him. It has no place in the desecrated, twisted black heart of him. Even here, he has not been able to stop moving. If he is not reading, he is planning, if he is not planning he is talking. Learning the lay of the land. He manages to project an effortless calm, but there is no end to the depth of what sacrifices he has made to embody it.

So he simply gives her a crooked smile.]

And here I thought I was to build you a ship.

riverview: test drive meme

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)