snowblindmemes | Test Drive

Entry tags:

test drive

Test Drive


TEST DRIVE MEME
If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works. ✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it. Network Prompts ONE: LISTEN, DOLLFACE It's no secret that dolls have been the talk of the town, lately. People have been finding them all over Norfinbury: some rag dolls that seem particularly relevant to the Prophet, and some that are unsettling without the apparent connection. Still, it's surprising when you found a doll that looks like another one of the residents. You turn to the network, feeling unsettled, unsure what this could mean. Maybe you aren't alone, or maybe someone has a theory? Come to think of it, you're pretty sure that someone else mentioned finding something similar. TWO: TIPTOES.EXE IS HERE Sometime today you find an SD card that downloaded an app to your tablet. It's titled HIDEANDSEEK and has the picture of a doll as its icon. When you open it, it seems like it's a game to play against a digital opponent: a doll. The game appears to have two stages. In the first stage, the doll hides, and you need to travel around the house (is it just you, or does the layout of this house seem to always be the house you're in when you open it?) to find the doll. In the second stage, you need to hide yourself from the doll, and listen for its movements so it can't catch you. If it does catch you, it will be holding a knife. The screen goes red and the game crashes for the rest of the night. Somewhere on your body, a gash appears. It's nothing fatal, but maybe you should talk to someone about this on the Network. Action Prompts THREE: STRANGE THINGS DID HAPPEN HERE The house that you've found seems promising in terms of useful items to take with you, so you and your traveling companion have spent all day scouring the house for items. At first, everything's fine. Neither of you find or feel anything out of the ordinary. Lockdown approaches, you go to sleep without any additional trepidation...but an odd creaking noise fills your dreams. It gets louder in your ears until you can't stand it anymore and snap awake. When you open your eyes, it's there hanging just above you, swinging in a nonexistent wind: a doll with a broken neck, a noose tied around its neck. It looks just like you. FOUR: LOOK BEHIND YOU Maybe you're not unsettled by dolls--and maybe neither is your companion--but one thing is for certain: this house you've been locked into for the night has an odd, oppressive feeling to it. Maybe it's just because it's full of dolls, though they all seem ordinary enough. Nothing strange happens at first, but as the night goes on...you finally notice: wasn't that porcelain baby doll on the other side of the room the last time you were in it? Didn't you turn that other one to face away from where you were sleeping? The more the night goes on, the more obvious the movements become--sometimes, you even swear you hear the pitter patter of little feet. But nothing ever happens when you're watching. Maybe it's just your imagination. Or maybe, you realize in frustration, your traveling companion is trying to scare you. But is your paranoia worth the confrontation if it is? And will you even believe them if they swear their innocence?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Lila is the only person here Cassel can actually sleep around, as in, real mostly restful sleep when he's not half freezing to death, and not the paranoid, exhausted dozing he's been doing with everyone else. It's Lila who's having a hard time, as always, and he hates that there's nothing he can do to help. He'd swap places with her in an instant if it were possible, but he's starting to realize, to really understand, what being locked in a cage for years does to you. PTSD symbols on a cold, glowing screen pale in comparison to Lila screaming herself awake every night. He's even dealing with the loss of magic better than she is. He's only thought of himself as a worker for a few months, after all.

So, Cassel feels guilty. When doesn't he?

Tonight is different, though. Cassel wakes up to Lila's nails digging into his bicep, dulled by the thick fabric of his coat, and he's awake in an instant.]

Lila, what—?

[Before he can register what's happening, Lila is trying to rip something from the ceiling, and he scrambles upright, reaching for her arm, his heart racing.]

[It's not the worst move in the world, reaching out to touch her, but it's also nowhere near the best. If she were someone more normal in pain and in need, she might reach out automatically for comfort, but after all this time she doesn't believe in comfort anymore. Fingers brush her arm and she strikes out, overbalancing in her effort to hurt whatever's reaching for her before it can get her. She's got just enough presence of mind in the dark of the night to recognize the shock of dark hair and the shape of hands under gloves, redirects and slams shoulder-first into the wall.]

Fuhuck--

[Hissing, she digs her fingers into her shoulder like she's trying to hold it on, eyes darting from Cassel to that thing.]

Kill it. Give it to me, let me kill it.

[It doesn't make much sense. But. At least it's direct.]

[Cassel winces sympathetically when she hits the wall, is tempted to reach for her again, but has the presence of mind not to try that trick twice. Instead, he follows her gaze, and—oh.

He mutters something soft under his breath, an angry jesus christ, feeling suddenly very awake.]

It's a trick. It's just this place fucking with us.

[He hopes that comes out as sure and steady as he tries to make it. And then he hesitates, because he's not sure if giving the thing to her will actually help, but... It's Lila, so he does what she asks, wrapping the cord around his hand twice and then ripping the doll down from where it's been attached, haphazardly, to the ceiling. It does look exactly like her, down to the length of her hair and the cut of her jacket. Cassel holds it awkwardly, half out but not actually offering it to her, although he won't stop her if she snatches it away.]

It won't actually do anything. Just a doll.

[It's a pretty lie, but he knows they've been popping up all over town, and he doesn't like it.]

Liar.

[It comes out singsong. She winces when the doll is ripped down, not because it hurts her (at least she doesn't think it does; it's hard to tell what's real and what's not right now) but because it's something new that she can feel slipping into her nightmares. You were just a doll all along, sing men with dark hair and knives for teeth, little Lila, just a plaything, and she shakes her head and blinks hard in the dim light and stares at the doll in Cassel's hand.]

[Cassel is real. This is either a blessing or a curse, although nothing in between. She snatches the doll out of his hand.]

Don't lie to me, [she tells him fervently, urgently, as she starts picking at the stitches on the doll's neck, the replica of her second smile.] I'm the only one who can tell, you know. Don't read me for a mark.

I'm not.

[Not reading her for a mark, he means. He was totally lying. Lila is far more brave and far more ruthless than he's ever been, could ever be, and if he was ever stupid enough to forget, the necklace of scars around her neck is enough of a reminder. He watches her pull at the threads, mouth twisting, and then he finally blows out a breath.]

What woke you up?

[She gives him a dubious look. There's fear behind it somewhere, although she tries not to think about that. It'd be nice to present a united front between all her own stupid emotions to Cassel Sharpe of all people, but she never quite manages. He's such a bastard, she thinks, and she hates him so much, she thinks, and one of these things is true.]

It was in my dream, [she mumbles, turning back to her work. It makes her own neck itch, but it has to be done. The doll hasn't earned that fucking scar.] Hanging over my head. Only it wasn't me, it was--me.

[She doesn't want to explain. But if anyone's going to understand, it'll be Cassel. She walked white-furred in his dreams enough times.]

[He does get it, and he sees the fear in her eyes, too. It makes him want to pluck the doll from her hands and rip it apart, stuff it in his bag, do something so she doesn't have to look at it. It also makes him want to reach for her again, an impulse that he doesn't trust himself to examine too closely.]

I know those dolls have been showing up all over town, but I don't know if they do anything.

[And weird dreams are par for the course for them, especially here, but he won't say that.]

Assume the worst, Sharpe. Assume the worst and prepare for the best.

[She pauses in her work, brushes her heavy-gloved fingers over the scars at her throat. Sometimes she has nightmares that they're fading. She doesn't have work anymore, so why should they stay?]

Did you get one? Find one. [She laughs under her breath, a little hysterical.] It wasn't my dream this time, if you did.

[That first statement has him smiling wryly, partially because it's such an intensely Lila thing to say and partially because he thinks that might be how he's lived his entire life at this point. Maybe with a lot less preparing for the best.

But then she laughs, and something in his chest twists. It's entirely possible he deserves whatever this place is. He's fucked up enough—especially where she's concerned—to buy it, but Lila certainly doesn't, and it drives him crazy that there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.]

Lila.

[Cassel says her name softly, a little ragged, and then he reaches for her hesitantly, hands light when they settle on her upper arms. He's always incredibly, almost painfully, aware of their proximity, of how close he is or how close he wants to be, and now it takes a hell of an effort not to close that distance any more than he already has. He gets caught there for a second, tense and silent.]

We'll figure it out, okay? It's better that we found it than anyone else.

[She goes stiff as a board the second he touches her, even through all the layers. It's not just because she hates him, although that's part of it. It's an ugly thing to hate and love someone at the same time--ugly, ugly, ugly, like a human being trying to run on all fours. Not natural, not normal, not easy to master. Lila does her best, like she does with everything, tries until she wants to scream, but it's so much.]

[She wants to slap him. She wants to kiss him. She wants to strangle him and shoot him dead and watch him bleed out arterial red on white snow. She wants so much for him to hold her, for him to lie like he's doing now and say everything's going to be okay. She wants all of these things at once. She wants nothing. She wants violence, and to sleep.]

[Eventually, her shoulders relax. A little. She nods.]

Yeah. Better we found it.

[A beat. A smile, wicked and feral.]

Not like we can go any fucking crazier, either. Right?

[He loves that wicked smile, partially because sometimes he can look at it and pretend, for an instant, that maybe they can go back to the way things were when they were kids. She's still tense, though, and he pulls back, self-loathing twisting in his gut. It's no wonder she doesn't want him touching her, is it? Not after what he's done. She tells him not to lie to her, but he does anyway. He can't help it. There's no way to tell your best friend that sometimes you look at them and see them bleeding out on the floor, made worse for the fact that he knows those are planted memories. Cassel can't separate the guilt from the self-hatred from the rest of it, but he tries to pretend.

She gets a smile in return, crooked and teasing.]

I'm definitely the crazy one, remember?

[Although now he's not so sure. There was a point when he'd thought that Lila was untouchable, unshakable, but spending so much time with her here... Maybe that's another thing to lie about.]

[Lila . . . she's always been volatile. Truth is she's never needed brakes; why bother? She dares the world every day of her life to come at her, always has.]

[The difference between Lila as she was and Lila as she is is that back then, she had brakes but didn't use them. Now they're just gone, worn away by years of shit and piss and languageless isolation. For a second there's anger in her eyes, but not the human kind, and then she smiles again.]

What should I be remembering, Cassel? How much pity you deserve?

[She scuffs. These Sharpes, these snake boys, these liars. She could almost have believed him. There's a part of her that will never not love him, and that part of her does believe.]

You gave me the title. The crazy one. Craziest. Remember? I worked hard for it. Years of work. Remember?

I don't deserve any pity.

[Cassel pities himself instinctively, though he doesn't recognize it, and he doesn't expect it from Lila. He expects her to hate him, and he knows that she does, but he's endlessly surprised that she doesn't hate him more. He's shocked she even gives him the time of day, so the barbs and accusations seem like a fair trade to be near her.

Mostly. They still sting. There's hurt in his eyes for just a second before he manages to wrestle it away. He never can manage to keep his walls up around her.]

I was wrong. You were always stronger than me.

[Which is true, but maybe what Cassel doesn't understand is that putting Lila on a pedestal is as harmful as everything else he's done to her.]

[. . . he said, pitifully. Lila wrinkles her nose.]

No shit I was. Except in the ways that matter, right?

[No. God, no, she doesn't want to talk about this. She slumps back onto the floor, receding into her coat, and resumes picking furiously at the threads around the doll's throat.]

Whatever. Forget it. I just hope we find yours soon. Maybe we can fucking swap.

[Cassel sighs. Most of their conversations have been slipping into this uncomfortable dance since she arrived, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He doesn't know if he can fix it.]

If we find mine, you can keep both.

[Her eyes flick up to meet his. Wary. She's always wary. Paranoid at the best of times, and Norfinbury contains no best times. She narrows her eyes for a moment, then jerks her head to one side. A gesture for him to sit.]

[It's reassuring, to know she can get him to do whatever the hell she wants, even now. Except not be an asshole, but whatever.]

I'll draw a shitty mustache on yours too if you can find me a Sharpie in this hellhole.

[Of course he sits beside her obediently, relaxing slightly. Good boy, Cassel, you get a treat. Now it's time to desperately try to lighten the mood.]

God, can you imagine how bad I'd look with a mustache? What if they really are voodoo dolls and one magically appears on my face?

It'd be fucking hilarious is what.

[But now she's torn, and her hand stops picking at the thing. What if she rips off her own scar? That really would make her crazy.]

Maybe I'll draw a beauty mark somewhere. On your chin.

[He makes a face, but he's relieved. This is much safer ground.]

Let me see yours. I bet you'd look great with a unibrow.

No way!

[She holds the doll close, and then--chucks it at him. Because that seems like an awesome idea, Lila.]

Actually, no, you know what? I would. I'd look amazing with a unibrow. I'd look amazing with any kind of brow. So there.

[The doll hits him square in the chest and he grins, catching it as it falls.]

Maybe. I don't know, Lila.

[And then, without much ceremony, he gets up and heads to his pack, rummaging around for a moment with his back to her and the doll still in one hand.]

[That he turns away from her, that makes her tense. Just a little, though. Not a lot. Better than she was a few minutes ago. Not that anything's resolved--it's really not--but they're both good liars.]

What the hell do you mean, you don't know?

[He doesn't respond, but when he finally returns and hands the doll to her, it's sporting a cape made out of an awful, floral print old lady handkerchief, fastened with a glittery pin that reads "#1 Grandpa". Where did he find this crap? It's a mystery.]

Just a fashion suggestion.

[Um.]

[She looks at it. Then him. Then it.]

[Boys are . . . so weird?]

I literally have no idea how to respond to this, Cassel Sharpe.

Thank me for the incredible idea.

[Duh, Lila.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Test Drive

3!

no subject

when u notice a typo in ur last tag :')

if it helps i did not at all notice v__v

i blew my own cover

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject