nonotagain | 01. Test Drive Meme

Entry tags:

!tdm

01. Test Drive Meme

TEST DRIVE MEME

Thinking about joining Iterum? Unsure of who to bring or if they'll even fit the setting? Posting here offers you the chance to find out how they'll do while getting the sample for done for their application.

→ Comment down below with the character you'd like to test drive in the setting. Don't forget to add their name and canon in the subject line.
→ Choose a scenario or create your own, and tag around!
→ Test drives will be posted regularly in the months of March, June, September, and December.
→ Threads in the test drive are NOT eligible to use for activity checks, however, you can make them game canon if you wish and both you and your scene partner agree.

Possible Scenarios
Please note that all characters will initially arrive in their assigned housing; they are free to explore the City to their heart's content after that!

01. Arriving: You're pretty sure you knew where you were before you closed your eyes. But somewhere between then and now, you discover that you're definitely not there. In fact, the setting is so unfamiliar to you that it's bordering on unnerving and questions start to stack. Have you been abducted? Did you get drunk and pass out somewhere and not remember? Whatever the case, you need some answers. Or maybe this is familiar and the only thing that doesn't make sense is the layer of dust on everything around you which obviously means some time has passed. How much? No one seems to know. What you do know is that sitting around and waiting for answers is likely not going to happen.

So, you set out and hope to run into someone in the City that looks like they may be in a similar situation. Or, at the very least a person that might be able to provide some explanation. Veteran Chosen, make sure you warn the new people about the Shadows and advise them to steer clear of dark alleys and things that go bump in the night.

02. Party, party!: Now that you've arrived and hopefully settled, it's time to unwind. Inside your welcome basket is an invitation from the Duchess, who has decided to celebrate the growing population of the City with a massive "Welcome to the City" party in the Tower District. Wine spills free, and drugs abound, this is the kinda party that caters to all! The wicked and debauched demons and the good and decent who, if not careful, might end up tainted and corrupted at some point, like everyone else. Even if it's only for one night, why not cut loose and forget about whatever is pressing on your mind?

Nothing to wear? Check your closet, we're sure you'll find something suitable to wear.

03. Prominence: Everyone knows that the City sometimes influences its population on a monthly basis. Unfortunately, you arrived right in the middle of a heavy Prominence. Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, or Pride: choose your sin and get wicked. You'll find it's hard to avoid being sinful, almost as if your basic instincts are taking over.

04. Run!: A lot can go wrong in the City; demon attacks, muggings or there's even danger of being plucked from the streets and forced to partake in the Coliseum's version of Fight Club (if you know, you know). There are plenty of unsavoury types that all Chosen must be aware of. They rule the night, and once the sun goes down it becomes the Sinning Hour. Demons and monsters and humans capable of inciting just as much fear, if not more, come out to play. Mind yourself. It's hardly a tea party out there.

05. Network: Broadcast a video, voice or text message to anyone in your phone's directory. All Chosen have a device that they can use to communicate. Those that are returning will find their phone as it was, though without any contact that was previously in the City that is not currently. For the newly Chosen, a device will be supplied in your welcome basket and will match the type of telecommunications that was being used at the time of their exit.

06. Wild Card: Choose your own adventure in the game's multiple settings!

n a v i g a t i o n

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[His eyes are good, but best with distance. He's gotten...used to is maybe not the right phrase for it, but he's been teaching himself slowly to stop staring at every girl with red hair like it's all been a bad dream. So, for the moment, he doesn't see her just yet. (Because, she can't be. Obviously. That would be ridiculous.)

He's making some excuse to some pretty young thing who doesn't know shit for shit about the Duchess as to why he's got to slip away for a moment instead of dance with her, and the phone in his pocket buzzing is even better than the one that's been trying to come out of his mouth. She pouts, he looks apologetic, and they part.

This network hasn't taken kindly to any attempts at hacking. It was never his strongsuit. Better to leave that to the techy eggheads. It's not a post all across the network, though, but directed to him. From her vantage, she'll be able to see the way he frowns lightly at the message, tries to be subtle about the way he looks around as though he could spot the perpetrator.]

Is the only winning move not to play?

[ Natasha reads the reply and can't help but grin. She also knows that she's playing with someone she cares deeply about who might have grieved or is still grieving her loss. It won't stop her, but she's ready for it and the thousands of apologies for not letting him make the sacrifice that she made instead.

In case he's listening for a chime or device sound that will signal a message was sent, he won't hear it. Natasha is ahead of him there. She is also closer than he thinks, though any flash of red he might catch is lost in a blink before she's moving spots once more.

Moments after he sends his reply, another comes in. ]

It's not a strange game, but one I'm sure you know pretty well.

[There is every possibility that it's someone not in the room at all. He doesn't have a handle on the City, on what this place means. It has a pulse he isn't familiar with, breathes differently from any other city he's ever been in in spite having all the trappings of- every other city he's ever been in. For the most part.

He parts from the thicker crowds, lingers at the end of the long bar, casually leans on it and sets his otherwise untouched drink down.]

I stick my right foot in, I stick my right foot out?

[ she cuts dangerously close to him near the bar, lingers a moment and sends her next message, allowing it to chime before she's gone again.

it's a picture ]

Pick a letter, any letter.

[It's enough to get him to start dropping the charade. He thought he saw--

No. But it was someone. He can find them again. It's useless at the moment to try and figure out the word when there's no context yet. There can't be. He moves from the bar, scans around. Keeps his ears open.]

Hope I don't hang! [Har har. This could easily be a threat.] A

[ She adds a head to the gallow. ]

womp womp. pick again.

[It's someone here, someone not drawing attention. Someone good at disappearing and someone good at playing games. He's not in the fucking mood.]

S

[ she's not exactly the patient type herself. so she gives him a boon and fills out three of the letter slots ]

you kind of suck at this game, Clint

_ O O _ U _

[He's about to send something very short and scathing about guessing the most obvious and frequent letters is a valid way to play and vow to stop playing, except he actually stares at what's there. Of course, it stares right back at him, stares him in the face.

And he looks up.]

[ When he does, she's there, not more than ten feet away. Natasha isn't sure how he'll receive her, or if he even wants to, but that's a risk she's willing to take.

He looks different. A little more weary, a few more lines on his forehead that weren't there before. She smiles at him, tentatively, until she has a handle on how this reunion is going to go down. ]

Hey, partner.

[The rest of the room falls away.

None of it matters. The people don't matter, and neither does this place, and the music might have stopped for all he knows or cares. The moment is suspended, it must be, because he's not sure that he's breathing. It balls up tight in his chest, a well of feelings pulled taut, like a physical thing banging frantically against his ribs.

Or that could just be his heart.

His legs feel like heavy lead weights. This would be, some part of him recognizes distantly, a time when he would excuse himself and find somewhere quieter, somewhere with more air, somewhere he can fucking breathe because all the oxygen's been sucked out of the room.

Somehow he manages to put his phone back without dropping it. He must still be breathing, somehow, somehow, because when he opens his mouth, words work their way out. They might be tattered in sound, torn up by the jagged shards of glass lining his tight throat, but it's his voice, even if it sounds far away.]

Most people would've just said hi.

[ That's the reaction she expected. It's the one that she's lived with every day since arriving in the City of Sin and every day since then. It haunts her dreams. Makes her second-guess herself even for mere moments before remembering that he needed to be with his family. And she will stand firm on it being the best decision she ever made.

Let me go. It's okay.

She can only hope that he was able to eventually come to terms with why she did it and understand that because if it had been him that died that day, coping with his loss would have surely destroyed her in nothing but the worst ways.

Natasha moves forward, slowly, until she is in front of him and close enough to reach a hand out to catch his. ]

I'm not most people, now am I?

[ She gives him a brazen little grin while tightening her hold. There is no sense in hiding the emotion in her eyes so she doesn't. She wasn't sure she'd ever see him again. ]

[She moves, and he stays stock still for fear that this isn't real. This place, whatever it is, might not even be real (for a given definition), and who's to say she isn't an illusion, an LMD, a robot, someone or something wearing her face?

But she touches him.

Something breaks. It surely can't be his heart. Surely.

He surges ahead, letting her hand go so that he can wrap his arms around her, a tight bear hug. So he can bury his face against her and breathe her in. Is that something that could be replicated, something that could be illusion?

At this point, would he care?

There's a minute shake to his shoulders, a quiet hitch to his breathing. If this isn't real, if he's just holding on to a ghost, he doesn't want to know.]

[ Natasha didn't have the kind of life that most would say was worthy of a second chance. She was a liability to everyone around her and probably deserved to die for all the horrible things she'd done. All the theft and corruption; the injury and death. How does a person come back from all that and feel that they've redeemed themselves enough to deserve this? Him?

She holds onto him tightly, her face buried into his shoulder while his heart beat wildly in her chest. Natasha breaks the moment she hears a soft noise of relief and closes her eyes, not able to hold it together anymore either. ]

I'm here.

[ He was home. Always was. Always would be. ]

[Maybe there will be an argument, down the line. Maybe they'll have to find somewhere to fight it out just to get it out of their systems. Right now, right now it's more than enough that she's here, that they are both here, wherever here is, for whatever it's worth.

She was always the best of them. And she was gone too soon.

(And he had so much time with her. Time that Yelena never would, stolen out from under her.)

He's struggled to accept what happened. Knows that it's going to be a lifelong fight to learn to live with it. But here, there's a flicker of hope. That she might come home.

He pulls back just enough to press a kiss to her forehead.] Let's get out of here. [Unless this is a conversation they really want to have in the middle of a party. He's game for it, since public opinion has never exactly been something that's mattered to it, but their emotions are also their own damn business.]

[ Of that he can be certain. No matter how at odds they were (which was often enough), she could always count on him to never hold back. It was who he was and that was familiar and important to her, an anchor that she was thankful for keeping her from becoming adrift. He always had compassion and honesty, tolerance and patience for her. Sometimes soft and understanding, other times with flair only he was capable of to remind her he wasn't going to take any of her shit. He was her best friend, a mentor, a brother and the first man she implicitly trusted with her life.

One hand moves up to curl around the outside of his forearm lightly, keeping their closeness for a moment longer before nodding her assent. Natasha steps back and lets him lead them out. Only at the main entrance does she offer a suggestion: ]

I have a place a few blocks down unless you want to get some coffee somewhere closer.

[He won't let her get too far. Won't let her slip away, not again. If the grip on her hand as he leads them out in as much hurry as he allows without looking like he's running is painfully tight, well, she doesn't exactly have room to complain, does she?

He only hesitates when she makes a suggestion, and he huffs a quiet sound out his nose before letting them out to open air. It's so much cooler here, and it's a wonder it hadn't felt suffocatingly stuffy when he was inside. There's a distant but pervading ocean scent on the breeze. Reminds him they're a long way from home.

Or. He's a long way from home.

His grip eases up, still firm, but not as demanding. Somehow, it's as hard to look at her as it is to look away. Maybe if he thinks of this like a mission--

God, he's so fucking exhausted of this.]

I could use something a lot harder than coffee.

[But nothing from the party. Maybe nothing here at all, unless it's something he can trust. And he can barely trust his own senses right now. He motions for her to take over and lead the way. Anywhere but here. But somewhere safe and secure and alone with her would be best.]

[ He's struggling with everything, that much Natasha can see, even though she's been in his spot and knows how it feels. She remembers the first time she landed in the City and how long it took her to settle. Rather come to any reasonable definition of the word, especially with the constant push and pull of influences that were forced on not just her but all the Chosen.

The hardest part was watching people she knew come and go, knowing there was no place for her to go back to.

She turns to face him, taking her free hand to bring his face to look at her. Natasha's voice remains soft, but damn if she doesn't want his attention. ]

Hey, look at me. I'm not some made-up illusion here to trick you into anything. This isn't what happened to you in New York. This isn't Vormir. And it's not a dream. I'm here. Me, Clint. I need you to believe that because, by the time I do convince you, you're going to owe me BIG.

[ Her hand drops to the side of his neck, her hand framing his face as she tries to lighten things up, if even a little. ]

I know all this is hard, but I've been here before. Let's go to my place, and I'll tell you what I know. Okay?

[She grounds him. Gentle touches and firmly making him look at her, to keep him from spinning out of control, to keep the trapped bird of his heart from bursting out of his cage of a chest, to focus.

She had to take that duty up after Coulson, in a fashion. He needs something, someone, to be there to pull him back into himself. They've all seen what happens when he has nothing but himself to rely on. A weapon with no one to use it. A wildcard making up the rules as he goes. A dangerous asset with a skillset to be a one man army fallen into the wrong hands: his own.

He looks, and there is a brief but vivid moment that flashes in his eyes. Every muscle straining. The accepting look on her face. Please no.

He blinks, and he is in the City, and she is here, and they are both dressed for a party they don't actually want to be at. The sensation of warm alien waters surrounding him and the weight of a rock in his hand are just sense memory. He breathes in onetwothreefour and out onetwothreefour. Nods.]

I already owe you everything, Tasha.

The same way I owe you everything, Clint. Partners, remember?

[ There is nothing she can do about what choices were made in their world, nor is there a desire to change her mind when she gave her life so that Clint could have his back. It made sense to her then and still does. But now he's here, once again separated from Laura and the kids, but here with her. It isn't fair.

How does she try and get him back home again when she has no idea where they even are? Regardless of how long it takes, she'll find a way. That's her vow to herself.

For now, she'll enjoy having her best friend back.

With her hand still in his, she drops her other and takes a step back, gently pulling until he takes that first step forward. ]

Come on. I've got some pretty good tequila and a case of beer.

[He will follow her wherever she leads. To the ends of the earth, to hell and back, to another planet. There's so much to say. So much he's said to her already, except it was only ever to open air. So much he knows he doesn't have to say, because in their years together, they formed a method of communication that bordered on telepathic.

There's a canyon between them now. (No. There's a sheer cliff face.) But it's still her. He'll give her as many chances as it takes.]

I know someone who'll fight you for that title. She'd lose, easily, but she's not bad in a pinch.

[Easier to talk when it's something that isn't...about what happened.]

[ Once he's keeping pace, she falls in beside him, lacing her arm around his and keeping him close while directing them towards Chicory Lane.

Of course, she's going to scoff at the thought. Anyone who goes against her tends to lose badly and walk away bloody. Still, Natasha can't help the way her attention abruptly turns upwards to look up at him, her brow creasing to show she is totally unsure of who he is talking about. ]

You went and got a new partner? Who loses fights? What?!

[ She deadpans, feigning a smile even though the corners of her lips start twitching in amusement. ]

She decided we were partners; we are not partners except when we have to be.

[Kate will totally understand if this gets back to her, probably, maybe, definitely.]

She, uh. She's kind of a big fan and decided to be one of the world's best archers because turns out she saw me fighting in New York when she was a kid and saved her ass from Chitauri, and boom, modeled her life after me. Poor kid.

[ There's nothing but silence. Natasha isn't sure Clint's pulling her leg here, but even she had to admit he was a force during the invasion, so hearing that some kid grew up wanting to be just like him isn't a stretch, as far as she is concerned.

But it still makes her laugh out loud because she could picture him adamantly telling this young woman that he absolutely didn't need a partner. How could she possibly not be more endeared to him than she already was? ]

She saved your ass, didn't she?

[ It's the only way she can think of that he would feel compelled to tell her they were only partners when they had to be. Natasha tried not to let that sting, even if she knew deep down that this girl involving him probably helped him more than it didn't. ]

She--

[Hm. He could agree. He could brush it off as a joke. He could allude to the truth but not really get into it. They saved each other. They're partners. Her mess is his mess. His mess is hers. He still doesn't answer her incessant texts, knows she can make her own way. But still. Partners, right?

And then there's Yelena.

Shit, he's going to have to ease into that. But not yet. He clears his throat.]

She got caught up in the Ronin's mess. And then things got bigger from there.

[She was his responsibility. That's how it started, anyway.]

01. Test Drive Meme

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