TEST DRIVE ※ 1

[wildestmods]

TEST DRIVE #1

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep, but being lost in them is pretty alarming to most people. Perhaps it's lucky you're hearing what sounds like... a party?

If you follow the sounds through thinning trees, a brick-paved road rises from the ground ahead. Keep going, and you'll find yourself approaching a bustling festival. Small, jaunty, colorful buildings line a way bedecked with flags, banners, and (of course) ever-present vendors.

Good morrow! Dost thou carest for a turkey leg? Some funnel cake? Modestly priced costume jewelry? Come right this way, dear visitor! The faire is here!

First, however, the faeries would like a moment of your time. At one of the entry gates, a spritely, brightly-dressed faerie tells you, "Tickets are long-since sold out, but joy is one currency we accept. So as long as you plan to enjoy yourselves, you may enter with a day pass. However, please read the sign. By entering, it means you agree to the terms."

The faerie points to a large wooden sign with words painted on it. The sign says something to the effect that the summer faeries are not responsible for anything that happens at the faire, and by entering you're agreeing to exempt them from indemnifying you for not offering the same magical protections they offer proper ticket holders in the unlikely event of surprise and disaster, etc etc.

Fortunately, it's actually not that different from a standard legal agreement for some kind of dangerous activity like go-cart racing. Of course faeries would be careful about any legal disclaimers for events.

USEFUL LINKS

Premise/Short Facts | Arrival/Welcome | Setting Background/FAQ


A FAIRE SHAKE

A renaissance faire is in full swing in the woods today, or so it would seem. But no one here is just playing a part: these outsize personalities, bright costumes, and pseudo-Elizabethan voices are perfectly real.

It's the only place you can go for food and appropriate clothing. Also there's magic at your feet, drawing you towards others bound by the Quest magic, making it so all paths seem to lead to the Faire. Even if you don't want to enter, it feels like you have to, like there's something important to find.

a) The Faerie Toll
Some of the faeries are lighthearted and cheerful, with round and heart shaped faces and brightly colored clothes. These summer faeries are willing to part with some faerie coin in exchange for certain actions. Anyone that watches others take them up on their deals can see that the actions are indeed harmless, and there is no catch. Apparently happiness and frivolity really can be exchanged with the faeries here. Ways to earn a small bit of coin: physical comedy, agreeing to a round in the dunk tank (yes they have one), telling the faeries a good joke (but it really has to be a good one, by faerie standards), letting oneself getting pied in the face, and pieing someone you're with in the face, among other things. Silly dances are also in high demand, especially ones with actual rules vs. ones that are made up on the spot, with a clear preference for moves like tiktok dances, the macarena, or the Hustle.

b) New and In Stock

You tried to steal from the faeries instead of paying their toll, or have otherwise misbehaved. The faeries like your moxie, though. They'll let you keep what you took (if you took something), but first you're gonna have to do some time in the stocks.

Will anyone take mercy on you and bust you loose? Does anyone have a tomato? Perhaps you meet someone else while they're suffering a similar punishment in the other stocks across from you. If you didn't actually steal, maybe you got framed. Or you're in the stocks with your "partner in crime" who you were falsely accused of being affiliated.

Fortunately, you won't be in there overly long. Even if you can't escape and no one busts you out, the faeries aren't particularly cruel and the absolute worst you'll get thrown your way by the crowd is a fruit.

If you push, the faeries might also let you out if someone else agrees to be responsible for your good behavior. This could, naturally, lead to both of you doing more time together.

c) I'm Just Here For the Turkey Leg
Wandering lost in the woods is hungry work. Maybe you know better than to eat food offered by faeries, but the humans of the faire should be safe enough, right? Where else are you going to find a whole turkey leg, a funnel cake, or a cold beer around here? The lines can get pretty long though, and sometimes orders get mixed up, or someone swipes what was yours! Maybe they bump into you and spill food down your front. Or perhaps you see someone with no money and decide to offer to share.

Some of the food seems out of this world or is clearly made for a more alien palate (not always in an appetizing way). Most of the food has big enough portions if you're not the only one eating

d) Surely, You Joust
Whether you're just watching, betting on the outcome, or have convinced someone to armor you up and put you on a horse, the jousting tournament is a major event! Will anyone be able to unseat the intimidating Black Knight? Have you started a rivalry with a competitor you just met in a line twenty minutes ago? Are you helping another member of the squad by pumping them up for their match? Or are you just over here to see how many horses you can pet without anyone noticing?

Even those not interested in the competition might want to give it a whirl. There are different rewards for unseating certain levels of competitors like food supplies, flasks of boozeahol, small bags of silver or gold, and weapons of moderate quality, like swords, knives, or bows.

For those that don't own their own armor and lances, some light armor and lances are on loan but the armor is all dinged up and the lances are easily broken, putting someone using them at a disadvantage.

e) Everyone's a Comedian
You (and maybe your threadmate) are being teased by a pair of funnymen doing a bit, be they jesters, Punch and Judy style puppets, or a pair of washing well wenches. The audience is delighted, but are you? What are you both going to do?

f) Wares, If You Have Coin
You're here! You have some gold! Time to get yourself some "period appropriate" (for varying values of both words) gear. Have you found a shopping buddy? What if you resell some goods you just picked up at a slight markup? Are you suspicious of the quality of a vendor's goods? Maybe this item over here is the last of its kind, and you and this stranger want it!

g) Stop! Thief!
Someone picked your pocket or snatched something out of your hands! It might even be your thread partner. Do you give chase? If your threadmate isn't the thief, are they helping you chase the thief down or getting in your way?

h) Archery Range
Are you taking the chance to start learning a new skill on the practice targets? If it's any incentive, several fair maidens and handsome young fellows are hanging about, flirting with the best shots. If you're already good, you might be competing in the archery competition for a prize! The targets are close enough you can make conversation with the person one target over.

i) Fortune Told
A stubborn young blonde woman in a long purple robe with a pointed hat - one that looks more than a little bit witchy - is determined to read your fortune for you. Loudly. Whether you like it or not. She has to demonstrate her skills to drum up business, you see! Now please hold your hand still, she just needs to get a good look at your fate line...

(Note: Players will have to npc the fortuneteller says in their thread and can go absolutely wildly wrong. However, sometimes the fortuneteller suddenly gets more intense and guesses a few things closer to the truth...)

j) Out of Water
You draw attention to yourself with your behavior, or by how strange your manner of dress is (according to the faire folk, anyway.) Perhaps you have a still-functioning small electronic like a smartphone that's unlike anything they've ever seen. People are starting to give you the stink eye or ask you invasive questions. Will your threadmate help you out?

k) Bargaining With the Fae
There are some faeries here that are different from the sunny, cheerful summer faeries running the fair. These are the winter faeries, more ethereal and elegant, more immaculately dressed in finery that's a little too fancy for the event. Despite their beauty - or maybe because of it - these faeries are...colder. Many of them are busying themselves with maintaining magical lanterns around the edges of the faire. If asked, they tell your character they're handling security and to bug off.

But some of them maintain stands in shadier-looking areas of the faire. They're willing to offer more in exchange for greater payment. Warm, durable clothing to cut through the slight chill that comes at evening and night time. Swords made of much stronger metals than can be found elsewhere, of better make, with edges that take forever to dull. Bows with strings that rarely ever break.

Their deals are definitely backhanded though. For payment, they might say something like "we could really use your view on something, just a half hour of your time" and instead of having you participate in conversation where your insight is welcome, you lose your ability to see for a half hour.

These effects are unpleasant but usually temporary, lasting no longer than a half hour or so - but it's not like they'll tell you that. And if you try to go back to the stall afterwards to confront them, they'll have mysteriously disappeared. You'll at least get to keep whatever your bought and it will be of good quality, but the joke is definitely on you.

l) Wild Card!
You can make up anything your character might reasonably see at a normal Renaissance Faire, or place an encounter in the woods nearby! Go wild!

OOC DETAILS
❧ This counts as a plot and is part of game canon! This means that new players aren't the only ones that can make top-levels. Current characters can be thrown in like it's any other plot or event. The default for threads is that they're game canon if all characters involved are apped in or already in game, but prospective players may opt out and consider a thread non-canon if they're not happy with it.

❧ Feel free to play around with powers. If your character has powers from canon you want to play around with, go for it. If you'd like to test out possibilities for game powers, also go for it. Feel free to change it up from thread to thread if you need to. If you want to keep a thread as canon this can be handwaved as the magic making characters' powers shift a few times before settling.

❧ Potential players may use test drive threads as their log samples. However, at least one post in their thread must fit the requirements for apps, and in quality and length (200 words). If you do plan on using a thread as a sample, please make sure the writing throughout your threads is a good example of your writing skills and has some solid examples of the character's voice.

❧ Players can count TDMs towards AC, with the same AC rules as any other threads.

❧ The game is invite-only. Players without invites are allowed to tdm since some of them may know someone in game to ask for one, and since some people enjoy TDMs just for fun in games they don't plan to app into. But an invite is required during the apping process.

❧ The game is at a starting cap at 30 players. Right now the current number of invitees is likely to not exceed the game's 30 slots, but if we go a few over they will still be allowed to app during this first round. Future apps will be rolling apps and will have a wait queue if the cap has been exceeded.

❧ Invites at game start are limited to current and former players of the mods' previous game Piper90 (piper90), former players of the first incarnation of Wilderlands (wilderlands, and people friended to the main mod's plurk. If any of those individuals want to invite someone outside those pools in the first app round, they can request it when the mods make a headcount of potential appers. If the game will be under (or only slightly over) 30 players to start, some extra players may also be invited, but the mods want to limit it to exceed the player cap too much.

❧ The first game round will be apps only, no reserves. Apps open: 10/15/21. Game start: 11/01/21

Comments

Anode » IDW Transformers

[blacksmithed]

Anode is having a weird day. A really weird day. She's smaller than normal, for one thing (she's supposed to be nearer twenty feet tall than her current ten, thank you). To top it off, she can't find Lug, which is worrying. As she wanders through the woods, she eventually stumbles out onto the fairgrounds, which seem to be entirely inhabited by organics. Another weird thing, since she's pretty sure she was on the Lost Light before she got here. The Lost Light which is a spaceship. In space. Wandering around the faire is making for some... interesting interactions.

C. Not really to my taste

Anode isn't really hungry, yet. Not like she's low on fuel or anything and all of this food looks pretty organic to her. Not meant for robots, you know? She's loitering near the food stands when some kind soul offers to share a turkey leg or some other massive amount of food with her. Or maybe someone is just trying to sell her on it. There's a weak laugh and she does her best to be tactful. Well, as tactful as Anode gets.

"I'm sure it's delicious but I don't need that stuff gumming up my fuel lines, thanks."

J. Hey you!

The thing about Anode is that she really stands out. When you combine the height thing with the robot thing it's just kinda obvious she's not meant to be here. And that's resulted in a small crowd of the faery fairgoers giving her a closer inspection than the others. Hands help up as if to ward off trouble, Anode is doing her best to talk to a rotund older fellow shaking a walking stick at her.

"Metal? What sort of thing is made of metal and walks and talks? Is that a suit of armor? Get out here right now and answer my questions, young lady!" Anode groans softly as she's berated.

"I told you, it's not a suit of armor, it's just how I was forged, I promise--look, maybe Cybertronians aren't the most popular in the galaxy but I didn't ask to be here! Cut me some slack?" Anyone near by who doesn't look likely to join in the harangue gets a pleading look. Help!

[ Also open to wild cards and/or changing post format. ]

J

[talk_radio]

Bumblebee, despite being 12 feet tall and painted bright yellow, can be surprisingly stealthy when he wants to be. It helps when the person he's trying sneak up on has their attention focused somewhere else.

Once he's behind the man haranguing Lug, Bee speaks up. Such as he can, anyways.

"A mighty robot, from uncharted regions of the universe. Does that answer your question?," he says, his apparent voice swapping from a deep one full of gravitas, to that of a teenager.

Bee looms over him just a bit. Not intentionally, but being twelve feet tall around people who only rarely top out 7 means looming happens whether he want to or not.

Agent Texas ★ Red vs. Blue

[a_shadow]

1. the shops —

[ Tex was already unimpressed by the whole venue by the time she entered the grounds. The place is too old-fashioned for her. She doesn't want to wear the dresses and other get-ups that she sees on display in the shops. Although...the outfit with a corset she spots nearby does look pretty sexy. She pauses as she walks by, fingering at its skirt. If only this came in a romper.

She glances at the person she senses nearby and shrugs. ]

At least it looks like it's good quality.

2. the joust —

[ Tex is interested in fighting, once she sees that the option is open to her. There's a line, and she steps into it. There's one thing that's clear to her, though—a woman stepping into line for this style of fighting is unusual. She crosses her arms and stands with one hip jutted out, unimpressed by the competition. She's not in as good of shape as she was before her accident. And of course, she doesn't have her robot available to her. This doesn't keep her from trash talking her competition, though. ]

You sure you want to do this? You look a little...scared.

3. the fortune teller —

[ Tex is definitely minding her own business when the fortune teller grabs her hand, completely out of nowhere. She doesn't yank her hand away, though she's not big on being touches by strangers. She does look put out, though, and frowns as the fortune teller begins some kind of spiel about unusual travelers here at the faire. ]

I'm not interested.

[ But then the fortune teller begins talking about Tex's life line on her hand, and offering to read the markings there. Tex now looks amused. ]

Sure. See what you can see.

[ If there's anything one can read from people's life lines, they're going to be deceived by what's in Tex's. She's a clone. ]

1

[anywayheresvanderwaal]

[Mona, currently dressed in a disheveled pale pink floor-length prom dress and plastic tiara, would be willing to settle for a lot less than "good quality" if she were confident that she's supposed to be changing outfits in the first place. All of this-- suddenly finding herself in a very populated and very realistic renaissance fair with no obvious surveillance and no messages telling her what to do-- seems designed to shake her confidence, which is probably the point. So: to listen to the people encouraging her to try on period-appropriate clothing, or to cling to the dress that "Charles" gave her?

One thing she does know: Alison DiLaurentis wouldn't hesitate, and above all the safest thing to do is to be Alison DiLaurentis, no matter who's watching.]

Ugh, I know, right? [she says, face breaking out into a nearly effortless knowing smile.] I do only expect the best in my oh-so-retro wear. [She holds up a sky blue skirt against her torso, leaning in conspiratorially.] What do you think? Doesn't it bring out my eyes?

[Her eyes are brown, not anywhere near blue.]

Jim Hopper | Stranger Things

[hoponpop]

1. turkey leg —

[ Hopper doesn't really know how he got here, but he does know that he's famished. He gets in line for the first food booth he sees, not really considering how he's going to pay for the food. Once he gets to the head of the line he orders, choosing the turkey leg feast. He should have heeded the name, though—when they bring out his platter it's piled high with turkey, roasted vegetables, and bread. He glances at the person behind him. ]

Uh, hey, you want to share?

2. archery range —

[ Hopper's good with a gun. But if he's going to be here for very long, he needs to also be good with a bow, he thinks. So he begins to practice, picking up a bow and arrows and standing across from the target. Turns out that the knowledge of how to aim helps some, but not entirely. He needs some lessons, he thinks. But that's all in technique. For now, he figures, it's best to keep trying. ]

3. out of water —

[ As things begin to wind down for the evening, Hopper realizes he's getting more and more frustrated. Nobody here seems to know what to do with a 1980s Indiana cop, and he doesn't know how not to act like one. He notices a pickpocket making his way among the crowd, and after picking someone's pocket, Hopper catches the person by the collar. He doesn't have any authority here, but that doesn't matter. ]

You want to hand that back to the nice person you stole it from?


(( ooc: your character can be the thief or the person being stolen from, your choice!))

1

[cspd]

[ Oh, hey. That looks a lot more appetizing than...whatever Lloyd's been handed at the next stall over, which he's pretty sure is not what he ordered and pretty suspicious is catered to the tastes of a different species entirely. ]

...if you really don't mind? With pleasure.

Inigo Montoya | The Princess Bride

[studiedhisagrippa]

1. the stocks —

[ Yes, Inigo had managed it—he entered the faire and immediately made someone angry, and got thrown in the stocks. What was he supposed to do, he wonders, not defend himself? Yet here he is. At least they let him keep his sword strapped to his belt—but that's little consolation considering he can't reach it. ]

You do not know who you are punishing.

[ It's meant to be a warning. But the fairies laugh at him. Inigo scowls. ]

We will see who is laughing when I am free again.

2. the joust —

[ Inigo is right at home here, and when he sees the queue for people intending to fight for glory, he steps in line. It may not be a sword fight, but Inigo has skills that can help him here. He steps to the side, just slightly, enough that he doesn't risk swishing his sword across someone's thighs or anything, and takes it out to polish it. This is his father's sword, the one that he killed Count Rugen with, the one that has come to mean so much to him over the years. The movements he makes with it are almost worshipful, and so he might appear overly reverent as he swipes the cloth along it. ]

3. bargaining —

[ Inigo is getting chilled, and he approaches one of the shops, intending to get some clothing to sleep in for the night. The winter fae notice him, and approach him, offering him a bargain of something warm in exchange for his sword. Inigo immediately recoils, hand on the treasured object. ]

You will never have my sword.

[ He doesn't explain further, simply withdraws, although he knows this will invite curiosity. He glances to each side of him, seeking a better place to be, then begins to stride away. ]

1

[oldbookshop]

[ If Aziraphale wandered his way over here just to check that Crowley specifically did not wind up here before him and wind up in the stockade for troublemaking (and never mind that the keeping-out-of-trouble shoe is most often on the other foot), that's his business.

Fruitless business, but his business nonetheless. This is now where he exists, wringing his hands, failing at most all aspects of blending in with the locals.

Or, well. Faeries? Nope, still not sure what to make of that one. ]

They do seem to have a funny old sense of humor about things.

[ Nothing about their sense of humor is funny to him, personally. Some might claim that he also has a funny old sense of humor, though.

Lord, but he hasn't once missed this particular trend in disciplinary action. ]

I could-- [ Hm. Dare he. It sort of falls in the guardian job description umbrella, doesn't it. Not that anyone seems to be counting anymore. Not that this is even Earth. So to that end, why not. ] I could "take responsibility" for you, if you like. Get you out a bit sooner. Though I admit I would be a bit cross if you took it for free reign to seek retribution. Sort of defeats the purpose and all that. Getting thrown right back in.

[ He makes some flappy sort of gesture that could, in theory, be meant for emphasis to his point, but which is generally because he felt like he needed to do something with his hands. ]

Holly Short | Artemis Fowl

[darvit]

1. In the Woods

Waking up on the floor of a forest isn't exactly where Holly thought her day was going.

One second you're hearing news that a maniacal fairy from the past has been let loose on the present, the next you're hearing the sounds of nature and whispered voices and waking up flat on your back, staring up at a canopy of trees through a shorted out LEPrecon helmet.

It probably says something about her last few years that Holly's first thought is more along the lines of go figure than what on Frond's green earth just happened?

The wings on her back are just as dead as her helmet, which she shucks off to rub at the tips of her ears. There's no one in the immediate vicinity, but the surroundings aren't familiar and without her equipment, she's not taking chances. She clicks her neck, her magic kicks in, and she fades out of sight as she starts vibrating so fast she becomes invisible to the naked eye. Time to figure out what's going on.

Something does feel... off, about the way the magic flows through her, but she doesn't think about it all that hard until a few minutes later when she hears movement ahead of her current position. She freezes—without her wings, stepping on a twig could give her away—but when the source of the movement comes through the trees, they stare right at her. That's when she realises she's no longer shielding. D'arvit.

She holds her ground, all 3'2" of her, and when the deja vu hits her as she says: "Stay back, human!" she decides immediately that Artemis will never hear about this. Not a chance.

2. Bargaining With the Fae

See, the thing is— this sort of thing is a myth. Faeries flitting about offering too-good-to-be-true deals with a hidden catch, that’s the stuff of fairy tales, not, well, actual fairies. Sure, they’ll feed the weird legends mud men come up about them on occasion, you know, where it suits them to lean into it—keep away from the fairy mound and you’ll have good fortune, things like that. But the only thing any mud person who isn’t Artemis Fowl and his associates is going to get from the people is a mesmer or a mindwipe.

Which, if asked, will be her excuse for why she didn’t think twice about the only means of payment the winter faeries asked of her for the gear was, in essence, ‘just your name.’

Yeah. It takes her about five minutes to realise she can’t recall her own first name, anymore.

She retraces her steps in record time, after that, but they’re already gone. She searches all around the abandoned stall, as if a thorough enough search will simply turn up a poorly hidden faerie, but there’s nothing. Frustrated, she kicks the side of the stall, and regrets it immediately—ow.

“This is ridiculous. They can’t have gotten far.”

3. Archery Range

Bows and arrows. How archaic. And lethal.

She'd much rather have her neutrino in her hand, but it's fried—Foaly's getting an earful the second she finds her way home, his equipment is meant to be more durable than this—and she's in a strange place. Better to have something to defend herself with than nothing at all.

"There's got to be a way to stick someone with an arrow without definitely killing them, right?" she mumbles to herself as she draws the bow, marksman's eye honed in on the target in front of her. She's got the strength, that's no problem, but the balance and technique's all wrong, and when she releases the arrow sails entirely off target. "...besides not hitting them at all. Come on, Short, get it together."

Frond's sake. She grabs another arrow, notches it, and pulls back to try again.

4. Wildcard

[ Go for whatever. Will match style. Feel free to have someone mistake Holly for a child before they get a good look at her, she really is the height of a like, a 4 year old. ]

making friends in the woods

[garmr]

[The exclamation is.... promising? When Guts had arrived in this forest and the carved rune on his neck began twinging with all the magic in the air, it left him with the hope that he'd returned to Skellig Island after all. Holly certainly supported that theory - she looked like some kind of astral creature that'd be right at home there. He approaches with his hands raised - one flesh, one made of iron - hoping to get some answers.

Of course, his appearance doesn't exactly lend itself to being a particularly trustworthy-looking human, what with the excessive arsenal of bladed weaponry strapped to his heavy plate armor. Throwing knives, dagger, gigantic greatsword - was that a crossbow on his belt? At best, he looked like some kind of brutish mercenary. At worst - magical creatures probably would not be off the hunting menu with all the archaic murder tools he's packing. ]

Hey. Sorry for the scare. You're an elf, right?

[Please say yes.]

Little Cato | Final Space

[furtitude]

L) Father, I crave violence

[Little Cato starts interacting with the people he's drawn to by the quest bond in the woods, before they reach the faire. It comes out of nowhere. There's a slight rustle of leaves that could just be the breeze and then someone very small drops out of the branches above.]

[Whether he successfully tackles his prey, kickflips off someone defending against him and lands on his feet, or has to tuck and roll after a dodge, the swords he holds towards them are short but menacingly sharp.]

[His words come in a rush.]

Areyoutheonethatbroughtmehere? Whoareyouandwhatdidyoudowithmycrew?

[His eyes are wide and his tail is sticking up straight, fur standing on end, a little bottle-brush. The situation he just came from was one of the most distressing and stressful of his life so he's understandably a liiittle on edge.]

[His words slow down just a little.]

Do you work for Invinctus? What is this place? Talk!

B) Stonks

[The very cat-like teenage boy the faeries are trying to manhandle towards one of the stocks - lowered with magic so he can actually reach it - is very pointy. Pointy claws, pointy teeth, pointy dual swords that have to be confiscated.]

[He's doing a lot of hissing and scratching and biting. His little threat-screams even straddle a line between human yells and cat yowls. But he's definitely bipedal and wearing human-looking clothing.]

["Ow! Ow! Ow!" says one of the faeries trying to drag him along. "Stars and moon, this has to be the fifth time we've brought this one in! He keeps escaping and committing even more petty crimes. If we let him keep at it he'll rob half the faire blind. Are you sure we can't kick him out or confiscate what he's stolen?"]

["Our agreement to the local humans is to offer a certain measure of hospitality and we cannot revoke what we're contracted to," says another faerie, trying to help, as a third tries to keep the two swords - and a little satchel of stolen goods - out of the little cat-boy's hands.]

Leggo! Gimme that back! I stole it fair and square!

["Little one, you'll get it back, as per our code, and you won't be in the stocks very long - also we'll make one child-sized but we're not going to let you go unpunished. Our magic let us know you're at least fourteen summers. That's old enough for a time out."]

[But the boy skillfully kicks off the ground into a little flip to get free of the hold of one faerie and when the other tries to rearrange his grip, Little Cato bites his arm hard, and can't be shaken off. He at least does it where they're wearing a wrist bracer to not risk tearing any blood vessels, but the end result is a situation where Little Cato can clamp down hard enough to not fall off when the faerie starts panickily shaking his arm.]

["Get him off! Get him off!" calls out the faerie, shaking Little Cato around.]

Mppmhmoo mimmemyfuff anmemmempho!*

[The two other faeries then grab onto the teenager and start tugging him, trying to pull him off the other's arm, as he claws at them with his little paws and repeatedly kicks at them in a way that makes it clear he's got some kind of training in kicking.]

[It doesn't seem to be going well for anyone in this situation, but the faeries somehow seem like the ones that are worse off.]

[If the other person watching this doesn't try to spring him, they'll see him shoved in the stocks, ears drooping slightly, a low and prolonged growl in his throat.]

[*Translation: Screw you, give me my stuff and let me go!]

C) Can has cheezburger?

[Little Cato didn't save any of the money for food that he earned with a stupid little dance. (Also: talk about mortifying.) He's a Ventrexian, after all. Someone stranded somewhere can go ages without food, and days without water. So when you're stranded in a bad situation you can take care of other considerations first.]

[Given that he came from what was possibly going to be the end of the universe - after his crew struggled to survive in Final Space, no less - he's on edge. He has no idea what weather conditions he'll face, or enemies he'll have to fight, so he uses what little coin he has on a warm cloak and little leather satchel. (So weird, having metal coins instead of something like credit chits or straight up barter.) Fortunately, he doesn't need weapons thanks to the swords he woke up with.]

[The cloak is for warmth - the air is cool enough to make it clear he might need it by nightfall - and you gotta have a bag to carry the stuff you're stealing.]

[Because that's what he does to meet his other needs: steals the rest. Like food. Food is very stealable. He's not stupid enough to steal directly from someone watching their food, but they may see it happen just slightly down the table. Someone briefly leaving the table to grab something they forgot, and a little paw reaching out from under the table and snagging something off the paper it was wrapped in with its claws.]

[Or perhaps they're the one that briefly walked away and walked back to see their food disappearing.]

[The paw is smaller than a human hand but strangely too big for it to belong to a normal cat. The munching sounds under the table are also too loud and instead of just chewing, they hear a happy-sounding om om om like a kid unthinkingly humming as they chew.]

Re: Little Cato | Final Space

[ferengineer]

[Nog turns away for just a few moments. His ears catch the sound of something just behind him moving, though, and he turns back just in time to see his bowl full of fried crickets disappear beneath the table.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Not only at his lost food, but at the clearly amateurish way it was taken.

Nog didn't engage in petty theft anymore, at least without the intent of returning or replacing something before it was missed, but lingering professional pride meant he hated to see it done badly.]

A free tip for you: the key to stealing something is not being there when someone comes looking for it.

[Nog crouches down to get a better look underneath the table, but stays back a bit just in case the thief reacts badly.]

If you'd asked, I would have shared. Or bought you your own.

[Quark would likely be having a fit over his nephew acting charitable. If he hadn't already been having one of the free tip, that is.

Since joining Starfleet, however, Nog had found that a little good will could go a long way.]

Offer's still on the table, even if my food isn't.

guts | berserk

[garmr]

a. The Faerie Toll

[Trapped in a crowd of bustling summer fairies is one incredibly dour man they'd manage to coax onto their fairground. Comparatively massive, clad entirely in black armor and bearing a vaguely insulted scowl on his face, Guts could not have looked more out of place next to the lighthearted fae if he tried.]

Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for games. The Flower Storm Monarch - does that name mean anything to you?

[They... They kind of look like elves??? He's hoping to have arrived at his home destination after all the trouble it took to get here. His mouth twitches when presented with a lot of "We'll tell you if you try this pie~" and "Show us your dancing first" and "You gotta follow the rules!"

Yes. It appears this is going to be one of those days. He grumbles under his breath, ignoring the pie being held dangerously close to his face.]

Elves...

d. Surely, You Joust

[At some point, Guts finds himself recruited to be a surprise sub-in for the tournament's Black Knight. Why not? He already looks the part. He lingers behind the colorful banners, speaking with some of the crew organizing the next round. This kind of game is preferred over the comedic geniuses trying to get him to tell a joke.]

Sure, just one thing -

[He grips the hilt of his absurdly large anime sword.]

Swinging this thing around fits me better than any lance, and a horse ain't gonna hold up well when I do that.

[The terms do not seem to bother this particular fae - if anything, the suggestion excites them. Looks like this round is going to be something of a duel rather than pure jousting. He glances to meet eyes with his challenger waiting in the wings, looking rather calm and sporting about this whole thing.]

Hey. You ready to go?

g. Stop! Thief!

[Hidden beneath his black cloak were a lot of pouches attached to the belt of his armor, ripe for the ruffling for any particularly daring pickpockets. Aside from a copious amount of knives, black powder, and roundshot, the only object of particular interest was an egg-shaped gray stone.

A stone that happens to look at its thief once it is grasped in hand.]

L. Wildcard!
[can do brackets or prose!!! hit me]

Need|Heralds of Valdemar? canon doesn't have an official name

[hasapoint]

There's a sword in a plain, battered sheath with a similarly weathered belt attached. The hilt is wrapped in stained, worn leather that was probably white and black once and by now could be picked and peeled off without tools. The pommel ends in a gray-blue stone - not a gemstone, just a smoothed rock. It's not a large sword, broader and sturdier than a rapier but still weighing no more than three pounds, if that. It's made so that a small person could use it with one or two hands.

Magic, if you can sense it, radiates from the sword like the beam of a lighthouse. If you can sense psychic powers you might pick up on a mind coming to the edge of waking, reaching out in several directions. There's no physical glow or shimmer to it, though.

Maybe it's just lying out in the woods outside of the fair, with no tracks or signs of who left it. Maybe someone's brought it in and for reasons unknown has left it in a pile marked FREE, heaped over with long, whittled sticks with decorative hilts that make them into toy swords. Maybe a shady winter fairy is giving it to you as an enchanted sword that heals your wounds and seems quite relieved to hand it off.

Regardless, if you touch it there will be a curious sensation - slight disorientation, a series of barely perceptible touches at the back of your mind, a listening quality. But oh, hey. If you pick it up, this sword has perfect balance!

SWORD!

[garmr]

Guts is undergoing a mildly annoying encounter with a shopkeep that happened to have Need among their sharp and pointy knife wares.

Somehow in their negotiation, he ends up with the sheathed blade placed in his metal hand. An insistance of 'just trying to feel its balance', that he'll really love it, or some other sales tactic. He looks unimpressed.

"I told you already, I just need you to sharpen some things for me. I'm not interested in some beat-up toy sword."

Guts presents the dagger at his belt, the edge a little worn from his previous travels. The weapon is begrudgingly taken from him, the cutler mildly disappointed and taken aback by his rudeness, but willing to do the job at least.

Hm. Now alone and given a chance to take a closer look at it, something about this sword was starting to seem off, somehow. His brand was acting up...

Toby Hamee | Animorphs

[horkbajir]

Toby's a tree-adapted bladed alien lizard six feet tall at the shoulder, with the lanky rawboned look of someone not done growing.

Wood you?
Honestly, these dark woods are great. The trees are larger than she's ever seen, and four hundred pounds of muscle and dense bone or not, Toby can scale the larger ones like a squirrel. She's far more inclined to be up in them than on the ground and completely disinclined to go to the fair. Maybe you'll see her watching you from above at what she clearly hopes is a distance and angle that you won't notice. Maybe she'll deliberately show herself, tension in the lines of her neck and tail.

On Earth, near the valley where she was born, the free Hork-Bajir cannot allow Controllers to see them. If she came across strange humans (or whatever) she'd have to kill or capture them. But this isn't California, is it? She watches reactions very carefully.

Some kind of EULA pun
Okay fine, she'll circle the fair, but those terms catch her up first. Toby's not familiar with the old human tradition of skipping the fine print. She studies the sign at length. To human-style people, her long and beaky face is not very expressive. You might pick up a subsonic rumble in the soles of your feet, or the way her snakelike neck pulls back, and guess a certain degree of displeasure.

Wildcard knife lizard wanders around completely lost and probably the turkey leg has her nauseated. I'll match prose or brackets!

Re: Toby Hamee | Animorphs

[wheyoftheadept]

Saturday stops dead in her tracks about five minutes after she picks up on her tail. They're not human; the ripples they leave in the world make that clear. And they're very good at hiding. Without her sixth sense, she might never have known.

"All right." She turns to face her follower. "Come out. I won't bite if you don't."

the firbolg | the adventure zone (graduation)

[firby]

a.

[ Hmmm.

Well.

This is happening. All of it.

It's not exactly what he'd pictured any time he tried to picture partying with faeries, but then again, he's only ever been to one party in his life and it was about a day of birth. So perhaps he lacks perspective. That's fine.

The important thing here, overall, is that he has no currency as he's found himself... here. Wherever here is. A forest is a forest, and he's comfortable in that much. The coming here, the sleep and the plea for help, he cannot change. Those are what they are. Give a thousand for nothing. He can do that.

The lack of currency is less acceptable just in terms of his bottom line.

He observes the back and forth of exchanges for a long while, just looking to learn them better. The Firbolg stands out a little even slouching, eight feet tall and broad, hair matted, clothing painstakingly interlaid with leaves and twigs and pebbles. When he approaches to pay his toll, he speaks slowly and deliberately, voice thickly accented (think Vaguely Fantasy Icelandic, which I only link and clarify as a person too lazy to type an accent out). ]

I will... tell you a joke. Yes? [ Which if nothing else, they seem pleased with. ] How many seeds to grow a birch tree?

[ How many seeds to grow a birch tree?, one asks.

He gives it a stretching pause, either for effect or because that's how he works. Then, matter-of-fact as anything: ]

... one.

[ It's very "why did the chicken cross the road." But he doesn't have a pun and he also can't lie, so. ]

This is, uhhhhhhh. A slow burner. In a few hours... you will think it is very funny. Then, you may find me.

[ Things that may be true but which are not helping him in this current quest for cash: that entire premise. He could maybe use someone to throw a pie at him or bail him out or something.

There are no guarantees that the linked Firbolg Joke™ will not come into play at some point. If anything is up a fairie alley, certainly it's that. ]


c.

[ When you have money that could theoretically be used for food, but all the food is lavish and outlandish and-- has too much taste. Too complicated. #justfirbolgproblems. He is used to having this problem. It's the same way at the school he left behind.

He does buy a straightforward enough platter of something eventually. It's fully possible it's not what he asked for. He doesn't pay it much mind. Mostly, he picks at a thing or two before letting whatever he has sit in the middle of a table, while he digs out a pouch that he usually carries on his person.

Not everyone has the funds for a meal, and there's not much foraging to be had within the boundaries of this event. In the battle of bottom lines versus not wanting to see anyone go hungry, the latter always wins out.

He'll gesture towards the food for anyone nearby who seems to lack either food of their own or gold to purchase food with, impassive. ]

You may eat. If you want. I do not know... what this is. [ After a moment, he holds up the pouch he's dug out as well. ] I also have... berries. You may share these as well.


j.

[ This, the Firbolg is used to. Getting stares and odd looks and personal questions. Sticking out like a sore thumb in most any situation. Because Firbolg are insular, generally speaking. They live in seclusion, they live with their clans, they don't venture out for the most part. They are one, and they are all, and they are...

They used to be home.

He's had to be part of the wider world long enough to be used to people not being used to something like him.

He pays no mind to any glares or suspicious looks.

And for a while, he doesn't mind the questions. The simple what are you, the process of conveying that he has no name, yes really, no he never needed one, he's here because he saw nowhere else to go.

As the questions start to trend towards more invasive and personal, things he doesn't want to discuss, or get repeated by different parties over and over again, he starts looking increasingly uncomfortable. That comes of being used to having Fitzroy and Argo with him as... well, sort of as buffers. Very gladly drawing their own attention, filling silences that they don't like, letting him listen and absorb and not have to answer things he doesn't care to answer.

(He misses them. He's missed them all day, has looked for them all day, hasn't found them. They cannot be alone together if they're not together. It leaves him just alone. Almost a physical pain.) ]

I do not wish to discuss this.

[ Attempted power move: just turning around leaving.

The power move seems to have failed. As he registers that he's got proverbial conversational hangers-on, he goes from looking uncomfortable to outright frazzled. ]

l.

[ and wildcard! always happy to hash out another prompt or scenario, put up a closed starter, etc.! feel free to hit me up. ]

A

[wisdomreceiver]

"Um..."

Henry squints, then pauses for a very long time.

"I don't get it."

Counselor Aiden Price | Red vs Blue

[myagents]

I) Fortune told

Price doesn't know whether to feel relief or further dread at the sudden change. He figures he can sit alone in the woods for a while, resting on a tree stump contemplating the silence and hopefully not being attacked by anyone physically or otherwise for at least three minutes. He lets a little bug walk about his hand, giving it a little smile...Only to frown immediately as the bug bites him.

Break over. He gets up again and keeps wandering through the woods, lured by the distant voices of a crowd somewhere. Led to a paved road, he arrives to the festival and is immediately spotted by an enthusiastic young woman:

"Welcome, welcome!"

"Hello?" Price asks timidly "What is this place?"

"I shall show the visitors around, take my hand."

He expects the woman to simply take him somewhere, but once they arrive to a tent, she looks at his palm, then she lets out a chuckle "Oh! Someone doth sleep around!"

"Excuse me?!" he pulls his hand away immediately.

"Thine heart line." she points out like it's obvious "Behold the breaks and forks. Multiple lovers! Transformative bonds! Infidelity! Ah, so many--"

"Well, thank you, but I am not interested in..." what is this even called? Palmistry?
"This practice."

"Oh, I see!" the woman opens a drawer and fishes a card deck, dropping part of the (bad) ancient persona "You prefer tarot cards."

"I--"

"What's your name?"

He sighs. He doesn't really feel like arguing and this will be over soon, hopefully.

"Aiden Price."

"Aiden." she repeats, almost making him twitch. If he has to say his name, he says his full name for a reason. This way it looks like he's human and he's deeply uncomfortable with it. He's not a person, he's perfect. Either way, she keeps repeating it while shuffling the cards "Aiden, Aiden...Spirit, what is Aiden's energy?"
One card falls onto the table and she turns it around.

"Oh! The Devil!"

He doesn't even know what tarot cards mean but somehow he expected it. The woman names the cards as she lays them:

"Three of swords, six of wands in reverse, four of cups, temperance in reverse, the lovers, and the high priestess...Aw, you have been through a lot, have you?"

"Haven't we all?" he tries to chuckle in a seemingly laid back manner but he can already feel himself get defensive.

"And at the bottom of the deck, five of wands." she pulls that card as well.

"Alright." he looks at her as if to say 'whatever', he doesn't know what those cards mean, he's a scientist, for crying out loud.

"You are dealing with an addiction of some sort. No wait! It's a...A pattern, a negative pattern. Or maybe it's a Capricorn."

"Capricorn?"

"Or someone with Capricorn in their astrology chart if that's not their sun sign."

"I am afraid we don't collect astrology charts among our medical documentation." he replies condescendigly, but she's unfazed.

"You should, it's useful. So..." she focuses back on the cards "You are addicted to something that is giving you a great heartbreak. The six of wands is celebration when it's upright, but this is in reverse, and we also have the five of wands which means conflict."

She nods with a knowing glance.

"You're addicted to conflict...OR! You see conflict all around you, and you are addicted to something that can justify it, to give a meaning to the heartbreak. Perhaps you feel like everyone treats you unfairly, and that's why there's this four of cups here. An offer of love or friendship, but you either don't see it or refuse it."

That's it, Price starts to get defensive.

"Well, I don't think it's--"

"You might be dealing with a Sagittarius."

Alright, that's freaking him out. No, no, what is he thinking? Just because he knows someone whose surname is Sagittarius it doesn't mean that this applies. Is it a nickname or middle name? Then it would be a factor, but nah, it must simply be the surname.
...Although he does expect Dan's world to be so wacky that if one's surname is Sagittarius they can only be birthed during that specific time frame or they get disowned and thrown in a trashcan, it's just silly. Just because he knows a Dan Sagittarius who gave him kindness and friendship and sex and he's been pushing him away it doesn't mean that this woman knows what she's doing. At all. She's just lucky.

"Where do you see the Sagittarius?"

"In the temperance card. The temperance in reverse means you have been living in excess and you must find balance, a way to heal yourself. You should embody the high priestess - water signs, or air signs, or virgo - and embrace your divine feminine, your intuition, access your sacred knowledge and then" she points at the lovers'card " is when you will find the love you're looking for."

"I am not looking for love."

"Let me consult my crystal ball." she hovers her hands around the clear glass "Oooohhh!"

Price rolls his eyes.

"I see...The American flag!"

"Was America even discovered by the age you are portraying in this festiv--"

"The number...Forty-nine! Which becomes thirteen, the number of death! Which reduces to four. Which is...Also the number of death in Japan, but here! It means solid foundations...Until...The forty-nine becomes fifty. Five...The number of change...Of pure chaos! A woman clad in black will destroy everything!"

"Yes." he smirks in the mixture of fondness and annoyance that the mere idea of Agent Texas gives him "That sounds like someone I know."

"AH! SHE IS AN ABOMINATION! SHE WILL BRING HELL ON EARTH! THE APOCALYPSE!"

"Um...Do I have to pay for this prediction?" because it came just a tad little late, goddammit.

"OUR CROPS WILL BE DESTROYED! THE CHILDREN! THINK OF THE CHILDREN!" she runs away "OH, THE HUMANITY!"

Well. The agents didn't believe him when he referenced that in his apology.

Re: Counselor Aiden Price | Red vs Blue

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin hadn't intended to gawk, but the performance had been very hard to look away from. Apparently the fortune-teller who'd accosted him earlier continued to be not very good at her job.

"I wouldn't put much stock in her words, sir," he says softly. "I believe the woman to be charlatan of the worst sort."

Mio Amakura | Fatal Frame saga

[remaininghalf]

G) Stop! Thief!

Mio wanders through the woods. This isn't the Rig, clearly. She's sure this isn't the dream world either, but then again the tattoo curse is so strange that there is no way to tell, at least for now. She has her bag, and in it she finds her Camera Obscura.

She takes a couple of pictures for practice, and yes, the device seems to work, but no ghosts in sight. When she hears what sounds like ancient folk music and people singing, laughing, and conversing joyfully she walks more slowly and carefully.

It appears to be a song from a western culture, but she can't pick up any lyrics. Which can only be so reassuring when weird cults and rituals exist everywhere in the world.

"Mayu?" she calls still. She's not expecting to find her sister, but it never hurts to try "Mayu?"

Finally she spots a child. Instinctively, she takes a picture of them. She waits a couple of seconds, and they don't disappear.

"Oh, you're real." she sighs with relief "Good."

The child has their head low, staring at their feet, they're not facing Mio.

"Hello?" she leans slightly to meet their eyes "Are you ok--HEY!"

Soon the child snatches the Camera Obscura and runs further in, trying to lose her among the crowd.

"Hey! That thief stole my camera! Help!"

[cspd]

Help is like a dog whistle for do-gooders.

A young man standing nearby drops his conversation mid-sentence, turning towards her and immediately scanning the crowd for anyone small and suspicious. (It certainly helps that unlike some of the people here, he doesn't have to stop and ask what a camera is.)

"Excuse me -" He bumps past a couple of people, more nimbly dodges past a few more, and starts pursuit.

Cayde-6 | Destiny

[cachedout]

[ Prose or brackets, do what you want and I'll match ]
1. An example to us all

One of the people in the stocks, apparently some kind of robot, is arguing animatedly with a summer faerie. This is impressive, given how little he can actually move his arms and head.

"Oh come on, I didn't even do anything this time!" A sentence which, of course, informs one of the existence of other times.

"But you were going to in a moment," says the faerie, calm but with a note of amusement. They're a particularly small one, dressed in flame-bright orange and perched with all casualness on top of the stocks above Cayde's head. It's making the arguing harder.

"Sure, but I might not have! I can't believe how much I'm being judged today!"

He glances around for anyone he might be able to get to back him up, whether a passerby or another person stuck in the stocks. "Come on, you heard 'em! I'm innocent until proven guilty, right?"

2. Alternatively...

Congratulations! You've got yourself put in the stocks somehow. Another current stock-goer, who appears to be some kind of robot with glowing blue optics, looks you over with open curiosity.

"First time?"

3. Bro you're seriously breaking theme :/

"A wizard did it."

Cayde is surrounded by skeptical-looking fairefolk. He shrugs broadly, affecting a somewhat wounded air.

"A wizard made you - er, ye, look so weirdly 'bout the... countenance?" Asks a man in a very, very, very long hat.

"Yea verily!" Cayde says, warming to where he's going with this. "A wizard! I was minding my own business and a wizard kissed me and turned me into a robot."

Several people exchange uncertain glances, but it's becoming hard to peel away from whatever ridiculousness this is unfolding in front of them. For free, even.

"What was that like?" asks a teenager with a little sneer.

"Very whiskery," Cayde replies with unflappable ease. "Now c'mon, it's rude to ask a guy about a magical medical condition."

Are you helping? Are you making worse? Are you just watching? Or has he made eye contact with you and thrown in a "...Right?" to get your opinion?

4. Are you done yet?

Did you want to get some repair work done on your gear? To get something sewn, or a pair of shoes? Too bad, it seems one guy has both the tailor and the cobbler busy at the same time. One is sewing holes in a long expanse of black and red cloth, while another is working on resoling his boots. Cayde is standing casually barefoot, leaning on the division between the two shops. He's not bare-headed, though: one of his earlier prizes was apparently a ridiculous purple hat with a huge golden feather poking up off it at a jaunty angle.

"I can't believe they don't have shaders in this century," he's complaining, but brightly. "The inconvenience! I was really looking forward to a chance to change things up!"

He's having a great day, it seems. But are you?

5. Wildcard!

[ Do your own thing. Or you can ask me for a specific starter, seriously, I'll probably do it. ]

2

[blacksmithed]

Anode wriggles a little. Why do they even have stocks in her size? It's not fair, honestly. Somewhere she's twice the size of everyone and they can still arrest her? How stupid. She looks over at the smaller robot and tilts her head--or tries to.

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

Henry Townshend | Silent Hill 4: The Room

[wisdomreceiver]

H) Archery Range

Huh. This isn't Silent Hill, or at least doesn't look like it. Strange, the woods looked similar for a bit, but clearly this isn't the place. Henry, however, is a man of few words and all he does is gently whisper a 'what the hell?' when he finds himself in a renaissance fair, or whatever this is.

Everyone is very loud and enthusiastic, some reason. It kind of makes him want to find a hole and crawl back to his lonely, dirty, cursed aparment locked from the inside by a serial killer. Look, he is just not good at social skills.

"What?" he is confused as he is handed a bow and an arrow, then someone points at a target "Oh, alright."

With an expression that looks half bored and half determined, he pulls the arrow back. He thinks he aimed well, so he releases.

"ARGH!" laments someone in the distance. Henry simply mumbles:

"Aw, man..."

[slowmotionbuscrash]

The ARGH was unintentional. As was getting hit in the leg with an arrow, clearly. He certainly hadn't expected to find himself on his butt on the ground, with one leg bent up to his chest, staring at the arrow sticking out of his shin.

He feel a little woozy, truth be told, but it's understandable. There's an arrow in his leg.

There's an arrow. In his leg. "What the hell?!"

Tommy is used to being significantly faster. He was, up until this morning, a speedster capable of breaking the sound barrier. He'd caught a glimpse of the arrow coming at him, and reacted, but his reactions are supposed to be so much faster. He got hit with an arrow. His pride hurts almost as much as his leg. "Fuck, that hurts."

He touches the shaft, half thinking of yanking it out to make it stop hurting, but the pressure makes the pain white-hot. The teen swears again.

Jennifer | Rule Of Rose

[poor_unlucky_girl]

A) The Faerie Toll
Jennifer looks around in complete awe as she explores the woods. She greets the butterflies and the trees one by one, falls on her face because she wasn't paying attention where she put her feet, the usual Jennifer things.

"Brown, are you here?" she calls for her friend "I tried to evoke you with the brooch, but it didn't work...Brown?"

"Over here!" many tiny little voices call for her. She runs towards them. When she sees the faeries she doesn't question them, because of course she doesn't.

"Hello, have you seen my dog?"

"There is a fair at the end of the paved road." one faerie chirps resourcefully "But you must get coins to enter."

"And how do I get coins?"

One faerie points to the rules, written on a wooden sign they prepared. Many people must come nearby for them to have that ready. Jennifer squints as she looks.

"I-I'm not good with jokes. Nor dancing, and I don't even know what the dunk tank is...But I don't want to pie someone in the face, that's rude."

"Do you want to taste the pie?"

"Oh, yes, sure."

"Good." the faerie pies Jennifer in the face, much to the hilarity of the others.

"Oh..." Jennifer doesn't really comment or oppose, she simply wipes the food off her eyes and then sucks her fingers, looking down at the fallen pie at the ground "Can I keep it?"

"Sure..." the head faerie seems weirded out but lets her, handing her the coins reluctantly.

She simply takes the coins and then picks up the pie off the ground, bringing it with her. She hears some steps approaching and she turns around, face still dirty.

"Hello!"

[cspd]

This seemed like it was going to be a completely normal conversation with an average young lady, and then she turns around, and Lloyd is slightly taken aback.

"Hel--oooh my. Are you, ah...okay?"

She sounds pretty cheerful for someone who's wandering around with a face full of something, at least.

Mackenzie Haynes » Werewolf: the Apocalypse OC

[ragefeathers]

i. How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?

When Mackenzie comes to herself in the woods, her first feeling is that of relief. She's not on that shitty rig. Doesn't mean she's not still stuck in the clutches of Jorgmund, but not being on the rig is good, right? Last thing she remembered was being there, no change in the situation--so where is she now? She pushes herself to her feet, stretches out a hand--that's her bow. She picks up the white yew and turns it over in her hands. That's very much unlike Jorgmund, especially since a quiver of her arrows is sitting there, too. She picks it up and carefully belts it about her waist.

She feels better already.

Weapons in hand, she begins to head through the underbrush, none too quietly. After a moment, she drops down onto a narrow game trail, sniffs at the air--even if her human senses aren't sharper than anyone else's, it's more that she has the experience with using senses that many people ignore. That done, she starts along the trail with sure steps, listening every few feet. This isn't a forest she recognizes--but then she has no idea if she's back home or just thrown elsewhere by a shitty corporation. As the sound of someone else moving in the woods reaches her ears, she freezes and nocks an arrow on the string of her bow.

"Who's there?"

ii. Food! Real food!

Weird fair aside, Mackenzie has made a beeline for the food stalls. It's real food, not the horrid bland shit she's been subsisting on for almost a year in that hellishly awful rig. She's just moving away from the stand with a beautiful stein of cold beer in hand when some unfortunate soul makes the mistake of running into her.

"What the fuck?" Kenzie snaps, a growl entering her voice as her precious beer is splashed over both her and the other in question. A hand reaches out, aiming to grab hold of the culprit.

"You better fucking buy me a new one, asshole!"

iii. Wildcard, bitches

Anything else! Happy to switch between brackets and prose, too.

i. How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?

[freakenstein]

It doesn't take much in the way of paying attention to hear Merton crashing through the foliage, a half-deaf coma patient could hear him coming. There's no attempt at subtlety or gracefulness in the way he stumbles and curses his way through the underbrush, or if there is he's just that horrible at it.

When Kenzie calls out, the noise comes to a stop, but not for long. There's the unsubtle crunch and snap of clumsy steps correcting their course to head in Kenzie's direction and the beginning of a voice speaking up, only to get cut off by a branch being bent out of the way, and swiftly snapping back to smack him in the face.

There's another round of hissed cursing, and finally a response.

"Kenzie?"

Lloyd Bannings | The Legend of Heroes: Trails of blah blah whatever

[cspd]

i. DAD MODE: ENGAGED
[ There are about a million questions that need to be answered when you find yourself in the middle of a weird ren faire in another dimension, but there’s one that shoots straight to the top of the list, as far as Lloyd’s concerned. Sure, it appears that he’s gotten dragged here alone, but -

What if.

He wasn’t alone right before all of this, after all.

As such, you may find yourself being approached by a young man with a police badge on his jacket (Crossbell State Police Department, wherever that is), pulling a photograph from the notebook under his arm and holding it up for your inspection. ]

Excuse me. Have you seen this girl anywhere?

[ There are a few girls in the picture (and one of them may be familiar to any P90 CRAUs in the crowd…), but he’s pointing at the youngest, a girl with long green hair who looks to be maybe nine or so. ]


ii. read the fine print
[ Remember that sign as you entered the fair? Yeah, who even reads the terms and conditions, right?

…this guy, apparently. ]

“Magical protections to paid ticket holders” being what, precisely?

[ He’s not planning to argue that the freeloaders shouldn’t be exempted, really, but these sound like good things to clarify ahead of time. ]


iii. a man runs on his stomach
[ Food, though! Food’s never a bad idea, and after a few hours of fruitless searching, he’s really starting to feel it. So a few minutes in line, an order that he thought was straightforward and run of the mill, and he’s eventually handed - ]

Er, sorry, what did you say this was…?

[ Definitely not what he thought he was ordering, at any rate.

…did it just move? ]


iv. …or something else
( Or just hit me up and we’ll figure something else out? I’m easy. )

i

[71lines]

[Well, there's a greeting for you. No 'hi', no 'how are you', just straight to business. Tenten can't exactly fault the guy, he's probably asked this a dozen times by now, but even some fake niceties would've been... nice.

Still.

She leans in and inspects the picture, then shakes her head.]

No. I don't recognize the little one. Tio, sure, but not the little girl.

Cammie MacCloud | gen:LOCK

[tr1xx]

1. Again? Really?

What. The. Fuck.

No, seriously, what the fuck? Cammie hops up to her feet, rabbit ears and head swiveling in opposite directions, and finds she's already holding a... sword. A big one. 'Almost as long as she is tall' kinda big. That's new.

"Alright, okay, alright— not home, but not the rig. That's something, aye? Aye. Not the rig, just some weird forest, a big fuck-off sword, and weird mystical whispering— oh, my god, I've fallen into a fantasy game."

Probably not literally, but y'know what? All of this is an improvement on a being a corporation's slave in a dystopian hellscape, so she'll take it. She'd rather be at home, and she'll probably complain the ear right off the first friendly face she finds, but she'll take it.

"Okay. Far as new universes goes, this could be so much worse, so let's just figure out where all that party noise is comin' from, an' then— wah!"

She turns on her heel and immediately stumbles back when she realises there's someone not far behind her, the sword still in her grip overbalancing her and throwing her flat on her backside. Ach, hell.

2. I'm Just Here For the Turkey Leg

Obscure benefits of spending so much time online: Cammie knows a lot, and I mean at lot, of funky little dances that pop up all over the Ether. Helps, too, that she's got absolutely no shame—do some dumb dancing, get some coin, everybody wins. She replaces her GL suit with something cheap but a little more appropriate, stuffs her old things in a bag, and slings that bag and her sword in a sheath over her back to get on with exploring the faire.

Call it intel gathering, call it having fun whilst she can, whatever, she's here, she's exploring.

...after she's eaten something, anyhow. She's famished.

But of course she manages to pick a place with a nightmare queue, and her stomach is audibly growling. Impatient and easily bored, she turns to the next person in line, "Always pick the wrong queue when ye want nothin' more than to get through quick as possible, eh?"

3. Out of Water

Considering the way her GL suit had been reduced to nothing more than a glorified skinsuit that was, honestly, a little hard to move in without it functioning like it's supposed to, it's a surprise and a relief that her ears haven't met the same fate. Sure, she can get by with just lipreading and what little she can hear without 'em, but that's hardly ideal, so she's decided she's not going to question it.

Shame the same can't be said for the locals.

It starts with weird looks she doesn't immediately realise are directed at her ears, but once the first person asks about them, the staring becomes just as hard to miss. She tries to brush the questions off and scarper before they can keep prodding, but eventually it just gets kind of... annoying.

It's the first time someone goes to touch them that she gets right fed up, though, and she bats away their hands without thinking, "Oi, buzz off, wouldja? I mean, uhhh..." She stares back at the person, who looks none too impressed, and backs up a step. "They help me hear, seriously, they're just ears! Sure they look weird, but—"

Not, apparently, a satisfactory explanation for the very much electronic devices. They do not back off. Cammie holds up her hands, and her eyes flick towards the first person passing by as if asking help?

Wildcard

[ Go for whatever. Will match style. ]

A

[poor_unlucky_girl]

"Oh, hello...Cammie, right?"

Jennifer approaches her timidly.

"I'm Jennifer. We didn't talk much, but we were in the Rig together. It's good to see a familiar face around here."

duck newton | the adventure zone (amnesty)

[beefboy]

a.

[ It's faerie toll time, babey. Duck is pretty sure he's losing his entire fucking mind. And that does have its many downsides. But the positive side is, between this he's experiencing currently and the theming of his life before now, he's moved on to some shade of this might as well happen in record time. If there's an air to him, it's one of overall tiredness. Of (at least for the moment) well-contained dismay.

He's simply a man, in a forest ranger's uniform and an athletic helmet, holding a skateboard, with a metallic belt that has a mouth for a buckle for some reason, about to barter with faeries for some walking-around money. A dipshit with a nonsense cause. It's like, at this point, why not? ]

Now just as a, uhhhhhh, a first order of business. I am coming into this with some good faith that y'all have all the appropriate permits in order to operate your magic carnival deep in the center of this here enchanted forest. If you don't-- well if you don't, I guess it doesn't actually matter either way, 'cause I'm outta my jurisdiction and not a, uh. Police... officer. Like, I'm just a dude? I'm basically a dude back home, but I can technically be considered an authority figure on account of bein' a forest ranger. So out here I guess I'm twice as regular-dude as I was. I mean, don't tell me if you don't have permits. Whoever that guy was with the cat in the box, right? Ethically speaking. But also if you did tell me, it's whatever?

[ He might be spiraling. Okay, he's definitely spiraling. A little. Some of the faeries are laughing. Some of them seem unsure what exactly to do with... all that.

Duck brings himself to a halt, sort of pulls himself back together, pinching the bridge of his nose. ]

Y'know what, I'm gonna just sign up for the dunk tank. Is that cool? Make it a Duck tank. If I'm gonna be out here in parts unknown, I need money for a comically-sized mutton leg or a churro or somethin'. Damn.

[ Shortly thereafter, Duck can in fact also be found pulling dunk tank duty! Or freshly out of dunk tank duty and all the more soaked for it. He may or may not have some regrets, but he'll be open to interacting with basically anyone who looks as confused about this entire situation as he is. ]


c.

[ Duck tragically does not find his churro. But that's whatever, because he found funnel cake and that's about on par. This is his life now. Funnel cake in the deep forest. All manner of foods that can and probably will attract local wildlife eventually. Depending on the wildlife.

It's awful mystical out here, though. Who knows what their rules are?

He just sorta chills in this emotional space for a while, meandering around with his food, taking in the sights, all that good stuff. He's keeping a sharp eye on the people around him, partly for the more obvious reason that he doesn't know anybody or what their intent is, least of all the faeries running this joint. But also for another reason, which does become evident as he starts addressing some passersby over time. The reason is Forest Ranger Shit. ]

Hey- hey, man, listen. I'm gonna have to ask you to pick up that wrapper and, uh, dispose of that in an appropriate trash receptacle. We might be out here havin' a good time in a lost world untouched by the ravages of industrial progress, I can't say for sure, but like. It's kind of a dick move either way. And I did swear a whole oath that revolved around preservation and wildlife and whatnot.

[ If your character has not or would be the sort to litter, no problem! This cannot stop Duck from interacting with them. RIP. Here he goes, because as established, this is his life now. ]

I'm not talking outta my ass here, right?


h.

[ If he agrees to take a hack at the archery range solely to piss Beacon off and hear about it later, that's his business. The important thing is, he's here. And he's got his helmet, so that's at least a confidence booster that he probably won't die by self-inflicted arrow. Small victories.

Duck sort of sucks at it, all told. As a man who up until very recently was able to draw upon the ancient warrior powers and reflexes of a cool alien or whatever to excel physically, he clearly and openly finds this pretty frustrating. After giving it more sincere effort than he was still giving to training back in Kepler and not really seeing returns on investment, he opts to invest in something much more his speed: sighing. ]

I mean, when do the perks of getting 'Kid in King Arthur's Court'-ed kick in? 'cause the training montages in all these movies look way cooler.


l.

[ obligatory wildcard! hit me up for whatever! ]

h

[dwitch]

[At least Duck wasn't struggling alone. With how he could barely manage to get the arrow to stay in place without fumbling it back onto the ground, the dude next to him could make Duck look a professional in comparison. ]

I don't know, I'd say the food's been a pretty good perk.

[Finally managing to successfully nock the arrow he draws back, lets it fly...and it bounces off the dirt five feet in front of him. He frowns to himself for a moment before glancing to Duck, and shrugging it off with a self effacing smile, them making the walk of shame to pick the arrow back up.]

To be fair, pretty sure those montages were meant to take place over days or weeks, and had the magic of editing on their side.

Tim Drake | DC Comics

[the_hit_list]

1. Arrival

The sound of running water didn't strike Tim as odd; he was in the middle of virtual reality swayed by the way you viewed yourself and the world. The Unternet, where his subconscious took the form of the Riddler and the Joker's avatar was running around in Jason Todd's boyshorts with a bloody crowbar. What's a broken water main in that chaos?

A flood might actually wash that image out of his long-term memory.

The sound of trees, that's a little alarming, because Poison Ivy manifests enough mutant plants IRL. Tim fully does not want to know what she'd be able to create in an open sandbox. He'd be less worried if he knew the impact of dying in the Unternet on the human wired into it; for now, he would treat it as... a real threat...

Something is making his eyelids heavy. No, wait. That can't be possible this is a simula...

He falls asleep, or perhaps just falls. The sensation of falling doesn't end, and the whispering voices feel like he's been drugged. Or hacked. At some point, it stops, but he has no recollection of how or why.

Tim wakes up in a small clearing, face down in dewy grass that is soaking into his costume. Sitting up to brush off what moisture he can, Tim is suddenly awake because: this is not his costume. It looks like the approximation of his uniform that his brain had originally coughed up in the Unternet: more black than red, with stripes down his arms and gloves. Cape, mask, belt is completely empty - a nightmare in and of itself, bo...

Tim spies it a few feet away and darts to grab it, before freezing to take a closer look at what he's wearing. He knows what his costume feels like, slightly stiff and heavy. It doesn't constrict movement much, but it's always there. And right now? It isn't. Everything is cloth. Even in the Unternet, the costume had had the right weight and flow that spoke to the body-armor properties.

Why would he change the material? Why would anyone change the material? If you have enough control over the Unternet to control what another avatar is wearing, can't you disconnect them from the Unternet and get them out of your way? Unless... you can die in the Unternet. Then stripping away protections would make sense. They have to get out of here. "Anarky? I can't believe I have to say this. Foxy Lady?"

Nothing. Maybe a breeze in the trees. He's going to have to wander through Darkseid's digital woods to find them. Swell. Tim takes a few minutes to find a good-sized branch and jam it into the ground - he's not about to go in circles if he can help it - before taking off in the direction that he has a hunch about.

2. Surely, you joust

"Do I need to explain how this is a terrible idea?" Tim tries to sound helpful, even mansplainy would be an improvement the subtle glee that is creeping into his tone. He doesn't want to see anyone take part in a jousting tournament, yet he is amused to see one of their group be caught up in this tournament.

He himself is not taking part in the tournament. He doesn't quite fit the "knight" bill, not even as a hedge knight or a freelance. Currently, he's a Greek chorus of conscience, morale support, and secret mirth.

Someone has to be the voice of reason, and it's clearly not the person gearing up for a jousting competition. "I have it on good authority that there's genuine skill required. You can't just bumble through it. You're not Adam Sandler."

1

[konman]

[He doesn't have his superhearing and having it just doesn't matter because they always sneak up on him anyway. And that's when they're not carefully traipsing through the woods in an uncertain situation. So there's only that weird tugging feeling as a guide and Kon is a little too perplexed about his situation to pay immediate attention to it.]

[So it's Krypto that turns and barks at Tim first, excitedly running over to say hello. Krypto doesn't have his superhearing but normal dog hearing and smell is pretty sharp.]

[Kon turns and a look of extreme relief plays out over his face. Then he raises his eyebrow, looking Tim up and down.]

Okay, one: new costume again?

Two: Please tell me you know where the hell we are.

Tenten | Naruto

[71lines]

G. [It's short and sweet. Tenten bumps into someone and, when the apologies are over, they're rather obviously pocketing the pouch she'd been wearing on her waist.

Shame for them that she's busy tossing another, much jinglier, pouch up and down in the air. You don't pick a ninja's pocket, not unless they're allowing it.

Tenten spots a watcher and winks, holding a finger to her lips. Turnabout was fair play, wasn't it?]

H. [Some of these guys are okay at archery. A lot of them suck. Did that guy seriously just nail someone with an arrow? Oof. Talk about embarrassing.

And then there's Tenten.

Tenten's good, enough that a stranger wouldn't guess that her left eye is an illusion. Arrow after arrow thunks into the bullseye ring, circling the actual eye.]

Think they'll let me keep the bow if I win the competition? It's not high quality, but it's better than nothing. [She hums. No, better chance of keeping it if she does something more impressive, she thinks.] Hey, you want to do me a favor and stand really still with an apple on your head? I won't miss, promise. Maybe in the mouth would be better...?

L. [Hit me up!]

L

[heterochrocatic]

[ Catra is... not happy. Where ever she's ended up, she hasn't seen Adora yet, or Tenten. Or Saturday. Or anyone. Which is weird, because if this is one of the missions, she should have spotted someone by now, right? She's weaving through the crowd when she catches a glimpse of something she thinks looks familiar out of the corner of her eye and turns. Someone with short, dark hair heading another direction. It couldn't be, could it?

Catra elbows her way through the crowd, suddenly afraid that if she loses sight of Tenten, she might up and vanish. Ninjas do that sometimes. ]

Ten...?

[ She reaches out to grab hold of the girl so that Catra can get a look at her face. ]

Ten!

[ And then there's a hug. A big, purr-filled hug. ]

Stacia Novik | World of Darkness

[credit_not_blame]

l: in the woods
Stacia blinks awake, staring up at the canopy of trees above her - the canopy of trees that are certainly not her familiar temperate rain forest. Because she's still not home. She's been away for a year and a half, she turned eighteen, she helped tear down a horrible post-apocalyptic rot of a corporation, and she's still doesn't get to go home.

She considers laying there for a bit and feeling sorry for herself, but aggravation is always so close on the heels of self-pity for her. She stands up and brushes herself off, then breathes deeply for a moment. Finally, she opens her mouth to vent her frustrations, and a vast ocean of swearing pours forth from the depths of her soul.

She has quite a lot of frustrations, and she is very loud. Very easy to follow if you're looking for another person in these woods.

j: look at the way she's dressed
Stacia's floral romper and low wedges had been perfectly serviceable for a summer evening in the woods among the werewolves of 2017, but it does make her stand out here. And some people seem to take that as an invitation to make comments.

She rounds on another faire-goer, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and glowering with murderous fury in her eyes.

"You want to say that to my face, buddy?" she snarls. "Or do you maybe want to save yourself some trouble and apologize?"

Do you intervene, or do you just stop to watch? Maybe fetch some popcorn? Or was it someone standing behind you who made the antagonizing comment and left you to take the blame?

f: get in loser, we're going shopping
Stacia's been wearing ill-fitting jumpsuits for the past year and a half, she deserves a little bit of retail therapy. And who knows how long the faerie coin she got for Slappin' Leather and the Electric Slide is going to last? Better spend it quick.

"Excuse me, do you know what kind of fabric this is?"

c: is for cookie, that's good enough for me
She's pretty sure that the fae can't keep you for eating their food if you pay for it, but given that she's paying with money the fae gave her, Stacia isn't going to risk it. She sticks with the most human-looking vendors, and she is not disappointed by the results. Still, there's no way she's going to finish all this on her own, and she's not sure where to go to pick up a doggy bag that isn't going to immediately become bear bait with grease.

"Hey, you want to help me with this? It's great, but I'm not going to be able to finish it myself."

in the woods

[ragefeathers]

Mackenzie is feeling very much like yelling, too. She was supposed to go back home at some point, she's pretty sure. She was also supposed to do something, she thinks, with Stacia. Stacia, the amazing Ragabash who had been kind and understanding. Who'd helped her to hate herself just a little less. She's stalking through the trees with her bow, uncertain of just where she's meant to go and what the whispering voices had meant when she hears yelling. Very familiar yelling.

She turns and bolts through the undrebrush, leaping fallen logs and scrambling over massive roots until she bursts from the sea of greenery and practically tackles Stacia, bowling the pair of them over onto the loamy floor.

"NOTHING-TO-SEE-HERE-RHYA!" For once, Mackenzie manages to sound happy and effervescent, probably in a way that Stacia has never heard from the ahroun before. She's hugging the other girl fiercely, heedless of the dirt and moss that's getting all over the pair of them.

"Holy fuck, am I glad to see you. I thought the Mother decided to haul me off the Rig and drop me in the middle of the fucking Umbra or some shit!" She even leans in and gives Stacia a bit fat kiss on the cheek. Mwah. If she were in lupus, her tail would be wagging at one hundred miles per hour.

"What happened?!"

Kaworu Nagisa | Evangelion

[diedforyoursins]

A.

[The last thing Kaworu remembered was dying.

Again.

That's not necessarily true, though. The last thing he remembers is just far more questionable in its realness – not fake, but rather intangible, not tied to any actual time or space or reality. Not real, but it did matter, and he still remembers it like he often does everything else.

And of course, he remembers this part too. It's a familiar routine by now. It's not the first time he's woken up after what should have been the end – far from it, even – but after the last time... He doesn't know what it means that he's waking up like this again. He doesn't know if something has changed, or how. If this might be the last time. He remembers everything, but he feels like he's never known less.

It's oddly freeing.

Anyway. The setting is unusual this time around. He doesn't think he's ever opened his eyes to so much green before. It's beautiful, and the breeze on his skin and the sound of rustling leaves is calming. Distantly, he can hear the sounds of life and revelry, but he can investigate that in a little bit. For now, he's content to remain where he lay in the grass, naked and absurdly pale, closing his eyes against the sun breaking through the canopy and just humming to himself. Beethoven, by the sound of it.]


B.

[He does eventually make his way over towards the faire, all noise and color and a far cry from whitewashed labs and the empty quiet of the moon's surface. It's delightful, honestly.

The fairies are a novelty, one he can consider later. The ones at the entrance hadn't seemed to care much about his state of dress (or lack thereof), but the first humans he encountered certainly did. Less of a novelty – humans are so frequently embarrassed by that sort of thing, even when it's someone else – but he doesn't protest when a round, motherly-looking woman practically throws a blanket at him and then drags him into her little clothing stall. The way she fusses is oddly warming, and he patiently endures her clucking about where on earth are your parents boy and I can't afford to be just giving away wares to every child daft enough to wander in naked. For all the displeasure suggested by her words, she still digs out some simple clothes that look like they'll fit his too-skinny frame.

As he obligingly pulls it on, smiling all the while, she just tuts and sighs in such a show of unhappiness despite her clear instinct to care for others. And no money to pay for any of it, I suppose? Not like you had any pockets to keep it in. Without an ounce of shame, Kaworu simply shakes his head.]

I'm afraid not.

[And then he catches the eye of another customer, and his smile is just bizarrely calm and pleasant.]

Could I ask you for some help?

B

[likeits1999]

[ Kevin is used to feeling underdressed, just not in this very particular renaissance faire judgmental way. He can live with it (or unlive with it, he supposes), so he's not shopping out of a sense of obligation. He's just like, curious, bro. That curiosity easily transfers to somebody asking him for help. ]

Uh, maybe? What's up, dude?

Megatron | IDW Transformers

[becomeyesterdays]

C. Food or Fuel

"Surely you have something less... organic," Megatron grumbles. He is very surprised to be here, honestly. Although he's not about to complain too much, considering the alternative. He's also not smushing organics, which is a good thing - but he's moved past that part of his life, so maybe not too much of a surprise.

"Energon, perhaps? Some sort of fuel? I cannot run on this sort of thing."

He's also much shorter than usual, which is rather irritating, but he's still almost three meters of robot.

"Anything?"

He sounds slightly exasperated.

F. Wares

"Gold as currency. That's... not too surprising," Megatron grumbles, half to himself, "Although I cannot think of what there is for me to buy."

Seriously. He's a three-and-a-half meter tall robot. What do they even have that he could use? He's a bit lost. He seems a touch frustrated.

"I don't suppose you can use this?" He might be offering it to an organic. Or just anyone he can offload it on for right now.

Wildcard!

[ ooc: open to brackets, too! ]

C

[blacksmithed]

"I don't think they have anything for non-organic life forms," Anode pipes up helpfully.

"Trust me, I checked. What I wouldn't give for an energon synthesizer right about now..." An annoyed venting of air follows and Anode crosses her arms as she wanders up to stand next to Megatron, as if running into the former leader of the Decepticons in a weird fairy marketplace was normal.

"Also you're shorter than the last time I saw you. Didn't think quantum jumps could take height off. Did it to me too." She holds her hands up, as if to demonstrate how much height she's lost.

Karkat Vantas | Homestuck

[pasthole]

[ Prose or brackets is fine, I'll match. ]
1. This is stupid

"No." The word rings out loudly, though it's more because the speaker has a high default volume than because he's actually shouting.

"I'm not doing this shit again. I'm not getting displaced in stardust-intoxicated fairytale worlds for stupid wigglers. I'm not going on magical adventures. I'm not facing my destiny. No!"

Someone (that someone being a smallish alien teenager) is having A Moment in the woods outside the faire.

Someone is also cursing because he might have just kicked a tree and started regretting it immediately. He recovers quickly, though.

"Fuck me, I'm already back to ranting to myself like a hapless nookwhiff unable to resist the chance to do an encore of the greatest hits of his most embarrassing sweeps. That's it! I am not playing this game, I refuse to give in to multiversal paradox space hoofbeast leavings for one moment more! No more ranting as of right now!"

He folds his arms in stubborn defiance of the entire goddamn universe, because it's an asshole and it deserves it.

2. Heckling

"-can't even begin to fathom what it must be like to wake up every morning and be struck by the rail freighter of realization that you're in for another knee-slapping day as the same feckless piece of shit you were yesterday!"

Karkat already got a warmup in when the summer faeries accosted him at the edge of this stupid street festival, found his assertions of where they could go and fuck themselves to be hilarious, and let him in because he had amused them so much. He'd been offended, but the free stuff had helped a little. These clowns who decided to insult him, however, have no redeeming quality at all.

And they are clowns, which makes the whole thing worse: Two adult human males dressed in ridiculous, garish clothing. Something in the back of Karkat's mind says they might be harlequins, Egbert had pointed out that there was a difference, but he crushes that thought. Karkat would say it's because he had no time for the finer points of inane human bullshit (which is true), but in the most honest part of Karkat's heart? Thinking about friends makes worrying about never seeing them again harder.

"Methinks the lad doth need a nap," says one jester, dressed primarily in red, to the other in green. He puts his hands together and mimes taking a nap on them and snoring. The crowd that's gathered around laughs even harder than they did at Karkat's last screed.

"Can we bring thee a glass of milk, young master? A warm pillow? Perhaps thou needest some comforts to cool thy unsightly temper," says the second. "Hath anyone misplaced a loud, angry infant?" he cries to the crowd at large, gesturing dramatically toward Karkat.

Karkat's face reddens. His shoulders hunch. As he opens his mouth, a third jester ever-so-subtly places a small pot on the ground out in front of this tableau. "TIPS" says the label.

3. WILDCARD!

[Feel free to bring your own starter or request one. ]

2

[diedforyoursins]

Kaworu's mostly just let himself get carried along by the crowd so far, which is how he ended up paused along with so many others watching a pair of clowns teasing an odd-looking boy. Poking fun at others as a form of friendly socializing is normal for humans, but this seems crueler. The less kind side of humanity that thrives on attention gained by stepping on others. The horned boy certainly seems unhappy with it, at least, but it's so easy for people to ignore that when it brings them a moment of levity and superiority.

He watches quietly for a moment, only speaking up in the space between one jab and the next.

"Does what they say matter so much?

He doesn't raise his voice above a conversational level, just loud enough for Karkat. And whatever others in the crowd happen to be closest to him, of course, but they're inconsequential. There's no need to make a display of things for the whole crowd's sake. The grey-skinned boy has already fallen into that trap anyway.