ateratooc | TD006

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test drive

TD006

Test Drive 006

WELCOME TO ATERAT

Here is our Fifth Test Drive Meme! There are a lot of areas of the city to explore, so please have a look around! In case you need a little help getting started, I've included a few prompts below, or feel free to start your own! Exploration and player initiative are the names of the game here!

Helpful Links to Get Started

Arrival & General Information | Setting & Bestiary | Locales & Businesses | Residences & Housing Info | Rules & FAQ (ask questions here!)

I. Crash Into Me

Not exactly, but close enough. You have just arrived and received a strange satchel from a tiny, strange little man and are left more or less to your own devices (more information on what to expect upon arrival can be found here)! Follow directions to the north and check out the housing, or maybe have a look around the Historium and try to get some information from that giant glowing ball, see what you can waste your meager starter coin on in the Market District, or maybe just meet the neighbors.

II. What Goes Bump in the Night

It looks like Aterat proper has a spirit problem. Maybe you're seeing specters, hearing disembodied voices, your windows rattle when there's no breeze outside. Maybe there are cold spots in your place of business (or your apartment, which is so much worse). Either way, you're 100% convinced you're haunted. Hopefully, someone else believes you, or maybe you're used to feeling crazy.

III. When the Carnival Came to Town?

Take a look at the prompts from our latest event and go to town (or the carnival).

IV. Try the Network

The Tell-Phone allows for text, video, and audio transmissions to everyone else who has one. Give it a whirl!

V. Wildcard

The above prompts are all options, and there's much more to the setting than what they provide. Do your best (or your worst)!

Navigation

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I. Crash

It's quiet. Compared to the nightmare that was the Bahamut's descent towards the city of Rabanastre, with Balthier working the repairs further within and her more towards the outside, it was just... quiet. And it had been so strange - she thought it was the Mist that had pulled at her, taking her apart piece by piece and putting her back together. The Viera recalls thinking it was just her imagination before she had passed out.

The smell of smoke and fire still clings to her dark skin and white hair as she picks herself up to look about. A quick check - no bow. No weapon, it seems. She's still in her armor and heels and that would have to do for now it would seem. Where... was she? Obviously not on the Bahamut, or the Strahl. This was no place she had ever seen.

Her red eyes close for a moment, attempting to sense... No, there was nothing. No Mist here either.

What she does see is a tall woman - Hume perhaps? - with bright hair like the Belias esper that had a... well it wasn't Mist, but Fran could sense a sort of purity from her. The innocence of the voice reminds the Viera of Penelo. And what work did she want done? She's distracted by a tiny Hume man coming up to give her a satchel.

Once the explanation is over, Fran secures the satchel somewhere on her person (where she stows it, she'll never tell) and heads away from the area with her heels clicking.

II. Ghost

Spectres didn't bother Fran. There were numerous beings in Ivalice that could disguise themselves from others with magic or other manners. Lady Ashe had seen illusions as well of her deceased husband, though the Viera was certain that didn't count as that was the Occuria's influence more than anything. So while it is strange to others, it doesn't seem to bother Fran, even as she moves through the marketplace to get a better feel for her new surroundings.

As she walks through a particularly cold spot where no one else was, that did cause her to stop and look about. That was strange. There was nothing of the sort like this in Ivalice.

She glances about, attempting to see if there was someone playing a trick or attempting to cast magic. If it were the latter, they were poor mages that couldn't time their own spells right. But there was no blast of white, no shock of cold. "Are such cold spots where there should be none, normal?"

III. Wild

^{[I am essentially game if you have a different idea you'd like to play out! If you also want to toss ideas at me first, my plurk is open over at plantations]}

Someone running in the streets, shouting about deliveries? Well of course that had Tommy's attention. And, given he's not out doing deliveries himself, he's got some time.

It takes nothing to catch up with the running person, and soon he's running beside them, but backwards.

"Hey, you okay? Running pretty fast through some crowded areas there."

At least there are non-humes here too, right? Or perhaps that is not so lucky, but there she is, a very large woman with a basket over one arm that's filled with warm foods from the bakery. Someone who was not used to the sound of such serious heels. So her attention turns to the noise.

And sees a woman there, not human clearly, who wasn't so short as humans were. That actually made Lauri-Ell smile a little. It's nice not to tower so severely over someone else. But mostly her eyes rove over the armor with wide eyes.

"Wow," she says, voice a touch awed. "Your armor is very lovely."

"I'm sorry!" It was so, so close to a wail. She held on to her satchel as tightly as she could, mostly because it was what she had. "I've really got to get to work! There are no red blood cells here except me and that means none of the oxygen or nutrients are being delivered! I need to find the lungs and I promise I'll get to work as fast as I can!"

Notably, though, she wasn't breathless despite the utter anxiety in her face. There was fear, yes, but also determination. Even if she was the only red blood cell, she was going to do her job or die trying.

...At this rate, though, she knew she was probably going to die trying. There was one question worth asking, though:

"What happened here that all the red blood cells are gone, though?!"

Had he? Zack... doesn't remember that.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I just... I remember giving Spike the sword, and our legacy. And then..."

Then he was here. He knew he was dead. There was no coming back from that. But fuck it's annoying to have a gap in his memory.

Fran is okay with non-Humes as well, she's just far more familiar with those that are Hume. The amount of people she didn't like was few - mostly headhunters and Vaan. She smells the baked goods before she sees the woman and there's quite the look of curiosity that shines through her otherwise neutral look. Of all the people she's seen in her travels, both in taverns and in heists, never had the Viera seen one's skin colored like the sky.

It's only when the other woman looks over her with a shocked gaze that Fran stops to see what she's observing. A blink and she straightens up. It sinks in that she's also not looking down at someone but up. Not a lot, but it's noticeable. A hand goes to her armored hip as Fran takes in the other before her. Her long nails clink softly against the metal. "Thank you. It was made for me by the Viera...of my world."

The woman keeps her gaze steady, confident despite being new. "Are you native here?"

Viera. Lauri-Ell hears the 'the' and assumes that is a people. Whether it is a race or a country or a term for a master blacksmith or armorsmith she does not know. But she is smiling at it happily. Such fine work! Ah but to be able to make such fine armor.

"No, I am of the Kree, my people so very far from here. But I have been here long enough to be considered familiar with this world. Though I have never seen armor such as yours."

Which may also be as much as to say 'I've never seen your species before.'.

The Kree. Definitely not on Ivalice anymore. Fran frowns slightly before schooling her expression once more to given attention to the woman again. She certainly seems quite ecstatic about her armor that much was certain. Strange.

"Aye, most do not see such work. The Viera do not come from the village to mingle with others." That probably brought up more questions. "I have not heard of your people either. I have only just arrived and this world is nothing like my own. No Mist is here." And while she had felt lonely after discarding her people, the lack of the Mist here made her feel... empty? No, that was not right. Like a piece of her was gone. A sense, cut off.

She gives her head a toss, the long length of her hair swinging behind her. "I am Fran from Ivalice."

No, it's not Ivalice, as it it's not Hala. Or Earth. So many places it isn't. Perhaps not enough that it is.

"You are a private people then. I am sorry. I should not have commented upon it then. It is just marvelous. I've never seen armor made with such a lacy style. It is completely different from what the forgemistress is teaching me."

Mist? Lauri-Ell considers. No, it has not been foggy for some time.

"It is rarely foggy or misty in the summer, save down by the waters. And it is an honor to meet you, Fran of Ivalice. I am Lauri-Ell."

So many places it isn't when she would like it to just be one. But she would deal with what the Fates had given her, as she did in Ivalice. A shake of the head. "No, they are a private people. I am not of them any longer. But your compliments are valid. They do fine work not seen elsewhere, even in Ivalice."

Her left arm goes up so that her new acquaintance can inspect her bracer better. "Well met, Lauri-Ell." There's a faint smile at the description of the weather mist compared to what Fran had actually been speaking of. "Ah, the Mist is a source of energy in Ivalice. I, and the other Viera, can sense it while others cannot. But a fog, I understand."

Not of them? Ah, that... is not something she understands, but she does not pry. IF she is not one of them, she is not one of them, and Lauri-Ell accepted that.

With the arm offered for inspection, the Kree leans in to look over it. So very lovely.

"Is the metal naturally that color, or is it treated to be that shade? Is it strong? Is it perhaps infused with this 'Mist' of your world. Oh it's so wonderful."

Ghosts were a part of Jagger's daily life, back home. Being capable of psychometry and sensitive to the presence of spirits in the first place, he'd gotten used to sensing things others couldn't. This place, though, made it even more obvious he wasn't crazy and there were in fact ghosts out there. They had moments where they were more or less prevalent, and they seemed to be waxing on the more numerous side these days.

He'd stopped at a bookseller's stall briefly to see if anything new had arrived when the click of Fran's heels upon the cobblestones drew his attention even before her questioning gaze. He glanced in the direction her red eyes turned, electing to be more interested in the task at hand rather than the rabbit ears on her head, or the fact that she was so much taller than him, or that her fingers seemed tipped with talons.

When he spoke, his voice might sound vaguely Archadian to him, though he's lost some of his British accent. "Cold spots? Oh! Sure, we've got a bit of a spirit problem dome days. Probably just moved through one."

"Aye, it is strong. I have fought numerous foes in it alongside-" Fran cuts herself off. Being here, in this strange place... was Balthier here? When she had passed out on the Bahamut he had been there. Had she left him alone to face whatever fate was to be had on the airship? The woman looks troubled as she looks away, thinking on these thoughts.

When she looks to Lauri, the gesture is sharp and eyes hard. "Are there others here that claim to be from Ivalice?"

The Humes here dress so strangely. Those red eyes finally fall to the one that answers her. Listening, she lifts a hand to pass through the cold spot before it...disappears? Strange. Everything here was strange.

Those heels click upon stone once more as she closes the distance between herself and the other at the book merchant's stall. "A spirit problem? They linger here?" A glance back at the spot in question, then to him. "You are a native of this city?"

Um what?

"They're in our bodies, dude. Blood is in bodies. So are the lungs. All the organs. Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?"

Concussion? Maybe he should take the guy to a healer.

Alongside someone who isn't here. Ah. She understands this, and is silent for the sake of the woman. Lauri-Ell herself could use some friends from home she misses.

"I have never met someone who has claimed that."

This cell, whoever they were, didn't really have a clue. Where had they come from that they didn't know about lungs and blood and-- Was he even a cell? Was he a pathogen, maybe?

But even they knew about the lungs. Especially if he was a streptococcus - but he didn't have scary tentacles or anything.

She slowed down to look at him, brows drawn, strictly unbelieving. "How... How do you not know how these places work?" she asked, blinking. "I mean, are you... Are you trying to trick me or something? That cancer cell really did manage to get one over White Blood Cell and NK Cell and Killer T, but we all learned from that."

It could be seen as both a blessing and some sort of curse that she was alone here. There's a frown that pulls at her lips as she thinks of the friends left in Ivalice. At least...they were safe from whatever could be here. She was alone here. Maybe this was somehow the Wood's doing - punishing her further for returning to the Village and engaging the Viera before leaving again.

Yes. A punishment.

Her eyes shut as Fran works to keep calm. She would face her punishment with as much dignity as she could. When the slightly-smaller woman looks to her new, taller acquaintance, there's a soft smile that doesn't quite meet up at her eyes. "How long have you resided here?"

Yuffie stretched her arms up above her head and released a long tired yawn. She rarely stayed in one place for this long. "It looked like it. Aerith opened a flower shop here and Cloud is... well, Cloud. He's all broody and bad at making friends." It felt very normal for Cloud.

"You should go see them." She may or may not know where they live.

She was still a little bit stalker-ish.

Once upon a time the supernatural world might have seemed a bit weird to Illyana. Back then a woman with bunny ears might have also seemed weird to her. That was before Limbo and the New Mutants and the mess of a life that came from being a mutant. Now, very little surprised her and even less bothered her. Most of her life was, particularly here, was spent finding various ways to entertain herself. Or at the very least to find at least vaguely entertaining people.

When the woman spoke she tilted her head and her lips curled into a slight grin. "That depends on what's normal to you." No sense in trying to assume what was or wasn't normal to someone here. "Maybe you've attracted a spooky friend," she shrugged. "Or enemy. Hard to tell."

Unfortunately for Haru she just so happened to be between her and the exit. For her part Haru hadn't really seen anything, she'd been too caught up in moving with the crowd towards the strange environment that had appeared. She hadn't been here exceptionally long herself and it was still quite an adjustment to make. Everything seemed so exciting and it pulled at sense of adventure.

Though there was still such a thing as too much adventure. Having someone crash into her while seemingly in a panicked state was certainly a bit close! A mixture of worry and surprise crossed Haru's expression as she tried to maintain her balance.

"Miss! Are you alright?!" there were deep layers of concern in her voice. What could have caused such a reaction in someone?

Whatever fear Lyanna has in the face of being so close to a direwolf immediately disappears once Ghost sniffs her hand and sits down. "Good boy," she coos, shifting to her knees so she could take a closer look at the creature and shower him with more affection. It's fascinating, really, for she's only heard stories about direwolves. Stories are wonderful, but the real thing is even more so.

But apparently that's not all there is to it. That Westeros is changing is no surprise; she's figured whatever she'd started would have repercussions for generations to come. Yet that's not the sort of change her son's telling her about, so when Jon mentions dragons, she lifts her head to gaze at him, frowning.

"Dragons." She chews the inside of her cheek. Perhaps he'd meant it metaphorically. She glances at his strange mixed sigil, many of Rhaegar's words coming to mind. "House Targaryen has reclaimed the Throne? You are king?"

Not a lord. Lyanna looks visibly relieved, strangely enough. "Then I shall call you Drizzt, if you call me Lyanna." Because technically it's Lady Lyanna, to some others even Queen, but she'd rather leave all that behind given the trouble she's already caused back in her world. She doesn't want another war, and certainly not one that's waged on her behalf. Not ever again. "For we are both far from home, and lost."

The horse grunts, seemingly in objection, but she only shakes her head and smiles. "It has not been long since I arrived here. I know my way around now, but there is much I do not understand." Her eyes light up as she's struck by a thought. "Do you have a raven with you, too? It's very strange, for it does not seem to be alive, yet it allows for correspondence." She fishes out her Tell-Phone from a pouch hanging from her belt, and she makes a face at him as if to say that it doesn't look like a bird at all.

I. Crash into me

This was not happening.

No, really, this wasn’t happening.

Or so wished the terribly tall, severe looking man staring at the world around him with annoyance (which was more to conceal the panic he felt). He was supposed to be on a train right now, solving a murder and getting back Iskandar’s-

… There was a flash of something in his expression, realization dawning on him rather heavily. He shouldn’t be standing upright now. In fact, he vaguely remembered losing consciousness after facing her… But there was, at least currently, no pain in his back that had been quite present before passing out. Only the uncomfortable feeling of his shirt sticking with dried blood to the patch of skin on his back that should have been quite ruined by the attack. If he were being honest with himself, which he’d prefer not to right now, he wouldn’t have been wrong to consider that he might have been dying.

But he was standing, feeling slightly disheveled and disorientated by his sudden change in surroundings, but otherwise completely fine. Something was thrust into his hands and a brief explanation imparted to him, one that was highly unsatisfying, even as it gave him a vague idea of what was going on. That didn’t mean he didn’t have questions, of course. The more details one had, the better. But… The shorter man was already hurrying off, causing a vein in the man’s head to twitch in annoyance. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me as though we’re done here!” He started, trying to follow with a rather haughty tone, only to lose sight of him in the crowd of locals.

If he were a more talented mage, perhaps he could have whipped up a quick tracking spell… But he wasn’t and so he was left holding a stupid bag with whatever constituted as a welcome package in this apparent world that ‘needed help to rebuild.’

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about that on some level, as much as he would complain or acted like he didn’t… But it was better to be seen that way, as far as mage society was concerned. He was already a weirdo by their standards, as much as he acted to present the proper image of a Lord of the Clock Tower. Even then, he had been pulled out of a rather desperate situation, and so his problems were a little higher on his priority list at the moment than the concerns of his abductors. Then there were his students to think about. Lady Gray and Caules were both among his more mature, level-headed pupils, but…

Frustrated and unsettled by the lack of control in his situation, a fist hit the brick wall next to him rather hard as a curse was uttered in a low tone.

This was, of course, followed by a rather higher pitched voice (seeming younger, and definitely whinier) in pain as he regretted losing his temper instantly, crumpling slightly and clutching his hand. He really needed to stop doing that…

II. What Goes Bump in the Night

He had taken one look at the apartments where everyone was designated to live and frowned so deeply that the wrinkles between his brows had grown only more severe. Sure, they were nice and inviting looking… But that really didn’t suit a mage. It wouldn’t be a good space to set up a workshop at all.

Mages were an odd lot, really. Even if he was a third-generation, third-rate failure, he had plenty to study and work on. Even in this place, he was going to need a space to work where the wrong person wouldn’t stumble onto something they shouldn’t, and with more privacy than the buildings probably afforded… He missed his flat in London already. The rickety old building, with enough cracks in the brickwork that made it look like it should be condemned.

Honestly, it probably should have been. One push to the right crumbling part of the building and it would probably fall down.

But it had A. been home, and B. looked so uninviting that no one would even consider moving into it unless they were fairly desperate. The rent had been cheap and the building quiet beyond his own angry ranting, either at his video games or the idiocy of a request posed to him.

To get back on point, the apartments wouldn’t do for a workshop and so he had left the building behind that evening in search of a location more suitable. At least, he noted, this wouldn’t be a challenging endeavor if most of the city he was seeing was anything to go by. A run-down, uninviting building would be easy to locate. It was just finding one that was in a convenient part of the city for him to set up in.

That said, he started to feel a certain unease as the odd whisper reached his ears. Something else was out in the evening, undoubtedly something he could not handle. His steps quickened lightly, clicking on cobblestone with purpose as he reached into his coat and pulled out a leather case of cigars. Drawing one with a slender finger and clipping the end with the cutter with a practiced movement before lighting it and taking a long drag from it and blowing out a haze of smoke…

III. When the Carnival Came to Town

The mirror had been unceremoniously shoved in his pocket after it had been handed to him. The instructions alone were a red flag as far as he was concerned, because if it wasn’t a real spelled object, then he’d eat his shoe. Sure, it sounded innocent enough… But he doubted it was the whole truth, and there were undoubtedly details missing from it to make its use seem more inviting. Not about to tempt fate on that front, he had tucked it away to study later. He’d unravel its secrets and make his judgement at that point.

Honestly, Lord El-Melloi II hadn’t even intended to attend this event. It wasn’t his scene; it was crowded and loud and he could already feel his stomach getting upset as he took in the sight of far too many people. He’d only stumbled on it by mistake and hadn’t had a chance to turn on his heel and leave before the mirror had been offered up.

Well… He could smell food, so grabbing something cheap to eat wouldn’t be a bad move before he did leave… Right?

Edited 2022-08-10 19:45 (UTC)

Even in Ivalice, Viera weren't really... the norm about Hume cities, so if anything... Fran was accustomed to anyone here that would have stared. She doesn't seem surprised or anything to find this blonde one looking up at her with a grin on her face. The grin made her think of Vaan - perhaps mischief.

"A cold presence with no magic is not normal to one as I," Fran responds with, glancing to the lingering cold spot, then to the other. "There are those that can cast themselves invisible in my world, but 'spirits' are only illusions manifested by the Occuria. They pull strings of history and fate, to do what they wish to have written." A hand goes to rest on her hip.

"These spirits... are such things normal to you?"

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TD006

Fran | FFXII

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Llord El-Melloi II ✩ Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files {Rail Zeppelin} Grace note ✩ OTA

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