TDM I

[thetonmods]

The Ton Test Drive Meme I

Welcome to the The Ton's first ever Test Drive Meme!

The game will officially open on the 1st of April (lol) and we will announce this via the game's Plurk account. Applications will open on this date - please do not submit an application before then as it will be ignored until the opening date.

Please note that the Test Drive Meme does not require an invite.

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Arrival

I. WELCOME

You don't remember when or where you fell asleep exactly.

Perhaps it's the tickling sensation of a low hanging tree branch brushing against your nose or the feel of the slightly damp grass underneath you that causes you to awaken but when you do you'll find yourself lying amongst a glade of wisteria trees. You're not alone - nymphs of the trees laugh and dance about you, clearly amused at the new arrival. Along with them, your new loyal servant is here on Pheme's bidding. How this servant looks is different to each arrival. Some are saddled with short, stout butlers, others are welcomed by towering, busty maids. Regardless of their appearance, they introduce themselves with a kindness and warmth that is simultaneously reassuring and strangely impossible to resist when they beckon you to follow them from the grove and out into the city of Andovale.

The closest structure within sight is the Palace and its grounds. It is here that the Lady Pheme resides and from here that she rules over the city, your servant explains to you. You have been selected and brought here personally by her. It is she who assigned the servant to guide you through the regency-inspired city that is your new home.

Eventually, they will bring you to your new residence within the outskirts of somewhere called the "Trade Quarter". You are now the resident of a room within one of the many imposing town houses which make up the Grand Crescent. Throughout your stay here the servant will be your own personal butler or maid. This is where all new arrivals will be living for the time being you are told. Your servant will also give you a crash course on life here and the concept of Thumos - the energy or life force that keeps Andovale and all life within it going - including you now that you are here. It's generated through acts of intimacy, whether that be physical or emotional.

Once you have been shown to your room, you are given two things: a network communication device and a letter. The letter reads as follows:

My dearest reader,

Welcome to Andovale.

The delights of our fair city are yours to explore.

I do hope that you make your stay here a most interesting one. I shall be frightfully disappointed if you do not - and we do not want that, do we?

You will hear from me again very soon.

Yours Truly,

Lady Pheme

You are free to wander about and explore the house and its surroundings as you please. It's certainly spacious enough. As well as your own quarters, each of the townhouses of the Grand Crescent have large communal areas, which includes the kitchens (although why you'd like to go there when your servant can fetch any delicacies you'd like for you!), a dining room, a parlour with its own small library, two drawing rooms (somewhere you can go to chill out basically - harp music anyone?) and a generously sized garden. Strangely, unlike most accurate regency townhouses, there do not appear to be any servant's quarters - perhaps these servants don't need to rest? Or they go somewhere else entirely for that.

Why not introduce yourself to your new housemates? Or enjoy some tea and cakes that have been prepared for you personally by your retainer, which they seem to keep insisting on bringing to you?

---

II. AN INVITATION

Your arrival coincides with the beginning of spring and with it the height of the ton's social season. What kind of social event can signify the start of this better than a grand ball?

Coincidentally you won't have long to enjoy your new home in peace and quiet. Wherever you are within the Grand Crescent your house's assigned butler or maid will track you down sometime during the day. They are not empty-handed and they carry a silver tray, upon which is an envelope with a wax seal bearing the letter "P". Inside the envelope is an invitation. An invitation from your benevolent ruler, Lady Pheme herself.

Each character will receive an invitation identical in wording to the one below:

MASKED BALL

YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME HERE


Is requested to attend the ball at THE PALACE, on 25th of March current, at 9 o'clock p. m.


Do not trouble yourself - masks will be provided upon your arrival.

Lady Pheme

You have already been told that an invitation to the Palace from the lady herself is the only way in. So if you want to find out anything about the tyrant lady then you better get yourself gussied up. Your servant can help you find something appropriate to wear - or not appropriate, the choice is entirely yours after all. The ball awaits.

Masked Ball

For the first time tonight, the gates of the Palace are open. Whether you're arriving on horseback, by carriage or on foot, you must travel through those gates and down a wide sweeping roadway, lined with immaculately trimmed hedges and roses bushes.

Stone steps and huge double doors greet you at the other end. Once you go through these doors, you will enter a grand entrance hall. You will see this room and the ballroom only. All other rooms are out of bounds and no amount of physical force or magic powers will get you to them.

In the short time that Andovale has been in existence, Lady Pheme has already built herself a bit of a reputation for being rather erratic when it comes to the Palace's interior. She seems to change it on a whim whenever she feels like it. She does so hate being bored after all. The colour scheme she fancies on this particular evening is black, white and silver. The many servants and attendants milling around are dressed all in white and are of course, wearing masks themselves. Every free surface is covered in grand flower arrangements, also in white.

Upon arrival, you are handed two very important items. The first is your dance card, the second is your mask. You will not be able to enter the Palace ballroom without both of these items.










The delight that is the dance card is key to every regency ball experience. Traditionally held by young women, at this ball everyone gets one. The dance card is used to record the names of those with whom you intend to dance each successive dance with at a formal ball such as this.

Got cold feet? Dancing not your thing? You might find that card being magically filled out for you. One second it's completely blank, the next you look down and find yourself with a list of delightful individuals with whom to show off your dance moves. (You have Pheme to thank for that - she's just looking out for you!)

Curiously, there is no sign of your generous hostess herself. Just a throne sitting empty at the top of the ballroom.

As for the masks, well... they're not quite what they seem too. It isn't as though you'll have any choice but to find that our for yourself. As previously mentioned, there's no entering the ballroom without one on. You might be able to persuade someone to swap masks with you or ask a member of the Palace stuff for another one - but they're all about as chaotic as each other.

Hey, at least the drinks are unlimited.

A typical regency ball usually ends around 5 in the morning so you might be here a while.

Note: The images below are just a guide, you can decide exactly what your mask looks like as long as it fits within the colour/animal category described.

Silver Mask

Simple and classic - unless you go for one of the more elaborately patterned ones.

The wearer of this mask will find themselves experiencing only the most pleasant of hallucinations. We'll leave the interpretation of that up to you.

You're also hungry. Really damn hungry.

Blue Mask

Masks of this hue will leave the wearer with an overwhelming sense of sadness. You're just plain bummed out.

Unless that is, you get yourself someone to dance with. In fact the only way to feel remotely normal or cheerful while you're wearing this mask is to dance the night away and you will feel compelled to do just that. Otherwise you're just going to be a giant sad sack all evening and nobody wants that.

Peacock Mask

Wow, so you like to make a statement, huh? Or maybe it was the only one within reach. Either way, nobody's going to fail to notice you in one of these.

Seriously. No, seriously, is it just you or is everyone staring at you? You know the mask is pretty garish in comparison to the others but this seems like an overreaction...

The truth is this mask makes you irresistible to others. So you have the personality of a shovel? Your problems are over, my chum. All of the ton will now be dazzled by your sparkling wit and the positively flawless way in which you conduct yourself. Everyone's laughing at your jokes, even when you didn't make one. Everyone wants to be the first name on your dance card. You might even find yourself with a couple of marriage proposals by the end of the night.

You lucky thing you.

Pink Mask

Two words: MEET CUTE.

Come on, it's everyone's favorite trope! You know that romcom hero or heroine who is delightfully and cutely clumsy? Always bumping into their future love interest? Well, this mask lets you become just that.

You know, after your third spilled drink of the night this could actually get really annoying.

Harlequin Mask

There is no such thing as privacy for those who end up with a harlequin mask. It may take you a while to realise (unless someone else takes pity enough to point it out to you) but this particular mask projects the wearer's innermost private thoughts onto the front of it for anyone else to read.

Let's hope you're not thinking anything too insulting. Otherwise, we might have a fight on our hands.

Cat Mask

This mask causes the wearer to start acting... well, like a cat.

Chasing shiny objects, randomly knocking glasses off the drinks table, rubbing yourself against somebody else's legs... all of that. You weirdo. What will it take to ward you off? A spray from a water bottle? A laser pointer? If only those had been invented...

Golden Mask

This mask will really amp up your Thumos production. When we say really, we mean really.

The slightest touch from another will suddenly feel like ecstasy to you. Even something as simple and bland as someone tapping you on the shoulder is liable to have you feeling weak at the knees.

Naturally this could get a little awkward if you've never even met the other person before. Oh well, at least they can't see your face properly.

Red Mask

Red is the colour of passion. That must be why you're passionately angry at that person. Specifically the first person you lay eyes on once you enter the ballroom. You might even say that they are your nemesis.

Does this person even know that they're your nemesis? Probably not. (Unless they just happen to also put on a red mask and lay their eyes on you at exactly the same moment!) It doesn't matter. Clearly they must be stopped.

Now no decent, upstanding member of the ton would condone actual violence of any kind. Particularly not at a high society soirée such as this. Your fighting must be sneaky, subtle - make them feel like they're simply not welcome here! Throw thinly veiled insults at their attire, literally throw one of the vol-au-vents at them when their back is turned, accidentlly spill your glass of lemonade in their lap... Do whatever it takes. Well, within reason.

How do you like them apples?

The bustling market of Andovale's Trade Quarter is known for having only the finest produce. This week there is a new stall that has never appeared before and it does not specialise in your run of the mill fruit and vegetables.

This particular stall is selling golden apples. In appearance they appear to be literally made of solid gold yet the beautiful woman minding the stall demonstrates that they are perfectly edible. In fact, they're downright delicious - you just can't stop yourself taking a bite. We would venture to say that they are probably the most delicious apples you have ever tasted.

They also come with side effects.

The legendary Golden Apples of the Garden of Hesperides were a wedding present to the goddess Hera from Gaia, the ancestral mother of all life. The apples promised immortality and anyone who ate them would never again experience hunger, thirst, suffering or illness... well, these apples are but a pale imitation of that. No, you won't become immortal but for exactly twenty-four hours after you've taken your first bite you will find that you don't need to eat, drink or rest. Your strength and stamina will increase tenfold and things that would normally cause harm to you cannot. Optionally, you may also be feeling extremely concupiscent, as the locals would put it - aka horny to you and me.

Somehow there's always a bad apple in the bunch though, right? Or several.

Unfortunately some of these apples are Apples of Discord. If you happen to pick one of these, one bite will still give you all of the traits mentioned above but for the next twenty-four hours you will find that unluckiness and chaos seems to shadow your every step...

So maybe you're passing beneath an open window and a maid accidentally empties a vase of water and some dead flowers on your head. Maybe you're in your local inn just trying to have a quiet drink but find that others are constantly trying to start a fight with you. Trying to get lucky with that special someone? Maybe certain parts of your anatomy just will not get with the program. And we advise you to maybe avoid carrying anything delicate and breakable for the next short while.

Wildcard

To assist you with inspiration our full list of Andovale's locations can be found here.

Want to play something that isn't listed here? Go ahead!

Please note that TDMs are considered game canon.

Both prospective and current characters who are already in game will be permitted to top-level on TDMs.

As your first port of call, we would recommend having a read of the premise page, as well as our rules. For any general game questions you may have which are not answered by the FAQ then please leave a comment on the FAQ page - for any questions specific to this TDM then please respond to the questions comment below.

Most importantly - have fun!

Comments

QUESTIONS

[thetonmods]

If you need clarification on any of these prompts, let us know here.

[taleofthe]

Question regarding the masks. How untoward and frowned upon is it for someone to remove the mask mid-ball?

And a related question, sort of. If someone has the magic for it, would they be able to replace the mask they were given and took off with a different one that they made themselves?

Nostradamus - Reign

[nostradamnit]

1. The sun can warm the coldest dawn [Arrival]
There is something incredibly awkward about the bearded man as he enters the house he's been assigned to. He holds himself like he's trying to hide his height (though he's just short of six and a half feet tall), like he's afraid to break something, like this dream might dissipate into nothing if he is too loud or too expressive with his motions.

He's dressed entirely inappropriately for the era, in a black leather jerkin over a linen shirt, and trousers tucked into sturdy boots, a leather pouch at his waist and a fur-collared cloak over all of that. As he sees another resident of this house, he offers a sheepish, uncertain smile.

"Have you already claimed a room in this house?"


2. And move the movement on the lawn [The Masked Ball]
The celestial blue mask that Nostradamus has been given matches his brocade coat, which coordinates well with the gold vest and ochre-toned breeches, but from the moment he puts the mask on, he feels like a complete outsider, a misfit who simply cannot belong in society like this. In France, in the court of King Henry and Queen Catharine, he'd been a ghost at the edge of the ballroom as well, but he never expected to be nostalgic for it.

The mantle of sadness covers him like a shroud, and his first instinct is to make himself invisible against a wall, to watch everyone in their merriment. But, of course, his name appears on dance cards, and names appear on his.

Convince the giant to dance, to shake his blues off?


3. I learn in every single day [Exploring the Academic Quarter]
Day or night, if one is seeking out Nostradamus, the first place to look is the Academic Quarter. He regularly attends lectures (especially on medicine, botany and anything that relates to poisons), where he's not afraid to share what he knows from his time as court physician in France.

However, he's also regularly tucked away in the observatory. In his time, he was an astrologer along with everything else that made him Nostra-fucking-damus, and there's a faint hope in his mind that if he can follow the trails of the planets and stars, he'll have a better understanding of this world.

Regardless, if you're a regular in the Academy Quarter, running into him somewhere is almost inevitable.


4. Inside out, outside in, every way [Wildcard]
darkersolstice or darkersolstice#9463 on Discord to plot

3

[zemnianjoy]

Once Caleb Widogast found out that there was Academia within this place, he gravitated naturally to it like moth to a flame, the lure of ink and parchment had always been the sort of enticement that could lure him out. Books were his weakness and the tomes were from all avenues of worlds, a veritable nexus of knowledge contained across several planar realms.

And his cares seemed to dissipate. It was easy to get lost in thoughts, easier still to use tomes as replacements for something core and vital within himself. And so he moved through the bookcases with a quietude of someone who knew how to traverse within such a sanctuary, carefully and reverently.

"I am sorry.." he rounds a corner and almost instantly finds his path blocked by a fellow appreciator of knowledge. "Do you ah, know where the section on magic is?"

Gideon Nav | The Locked Tomb

[assjokes]

Arrival

( unsurprisingly, waking up beneath the shadow of a super sexy maid's enormous bosom is absolutely, positively, 100% okay with gideon nav. she doesn't even want to question it. she doesn't even want to move. she just wants to lie here and allow the sun to be kept from her eyes by some stranger's knockers until the end of time, wherein she can die easily and say she lived a pleasant, fulfilling life.

that's not going to happen, though, because this maid lady seems hellbent on getting her up and moving, and gideon finds that she can't deny her worth a damn. if the big-titty lady says walk, gideon is going to walk. if the kind-eyed, bright-teethed lady says jump into a volcano, gideon is going to launch herself into magma, no questions asked, and swim with the magma fish. fortunately, the maid-babe in question does not request the latter, which should come as a relief, but instead it comes with, like, a million questions which all bubble to the surface and threaten to spill over in a big, garbled mess.

it's all dumb questions, like 'where the fuck is she?' and 'where the fuck is that chilly bone maiden?' and 'are those real?' all stupid, inconsequential things like that. she's seeing grass, and clouds, and flowers, and sunlight, and castles that aren't seconds away from crumbling to dust, so something as benign as 'who are you and what do you want from me?' feels like it can wait.

plus, the busty lady is supplying plenty of that, even if it doesn't make a lick of sense to gideon. she doesn't know what a 'pheme' is, and she's thinking it might be some sort of... fruit? the squishy kind, maybe?

eventually, she's seated in a home full of people that she hopes are just as bewildered as she is, and she getting a drink pushed in front of her. it's got bits in it that it's not supposed to, floating things, and gideon takes up the stringy, soggy bag bit... and bites into it. very refinedly, she'd add. she bites it like she'd bite a slice of cake if she ever had the pleasure.

it's the daintiest munch of a tea bag this world has ever seen. )

Masked Ball

( okay, so just being foist from one place to another is just how this whole thing is going to go, isn't it? granted, it's not as she has to go to the ball thing. in fact, it might be better if she didn't. she doesn't know this place, or these people, and lying low feels like the right move. but... but she's never been a to a ball before, and as dumb as it sounds even to her own ears, she's just flattered she's been invited to anything at all. it makes her feel like a person, and if that isn't the saddest fucking thought she's ever had, she doesn't know what is.

the fact that everyone at this place gets a mask tossed at them is a bit of a blessing, because gideon rushed through her paints that afternoon and she's fairly certain her ceremonial skull looks more like she'd gotten into a scruff with a the business end of a frying pan, just uneven lines and colors in the wrong places. she opts for the largest mask she can find, the one that'll cover the majority of her face, the golden one, and heads in with the rest of the 'ton,' of which she is now apart of for some reason.

she's glad that Pretty Titty Maid Lady (whose name escapes gideon) was kind enough to aid in the shopping. even in her fine black suit, black shoes, and black gloves, she feels too bright for her own comfort. everything here is so bright, so extravagant, so colorfully noisy, that gideon feels compelled to place on her sunglasses over her mask to mute it all down to something palatable. it looks ridiculous, but she can't be arsed to care.

apparently, she also can't be arsed too look where she's fucking going, because in the throes of slinking away from the mass of the ton, she ends up with her half her weight on stranger. what even happened? where was her focus? )

Oh, God, I'm sorry. Really. I am.

( that's all true; she'd rather not be all up in some person's business, but the stranger thing is how it all makes her feel. what the fuck is happening to her? is she really so starved for affection and connection that the slightest bump with a stranger is enough to set her soul on fire, get her heart racing? the answer is clearly yes, otherwise her toes wouldn't be curling in her dress shoes after going elbow to elbow with some total rando. )

Arrival

[astraythought]

[Seeing Gideon just chomp down on the tea bag, Ducky has to struggle to keep a straight face. A tiny mouse of a woman in a grey dress, she could almost be mistaken for one of the city-assigned maids, if not for the mish-mash of a European accent she has. There's a pause as she makes sure she's not going to crack, before she speaks.]

You may find that a little bitter to eat directly. Mostly people drink the tea after it's been steeped, rather than chewing the bag.

Ducky DeCecco - Lavender Jack

[astraythought]

1. Like an empty canvas, hear me cry [Arrival]
It's having a goddess-assigned servant that sets Ducky on edge the most, when she learns of her situation. After all, she's dressed like a housemaid herself, in a dull grey dress, her hair pinned up tidily (though curls threaten to escape their pins like they're taunting her).

As she's led into the house where she'll be staying, she doesn't speak much, instead listening to conversations as she and her maid pass people on the street. Once they've arrived at the house, she gives the maid a thoughtful look, and asks if the woman would be kind enough to go get her a nightgown to sleep in.

It's only after the maid is gone that she addresses anyone else who's in the house. "How long have you been here, and what have you learned?"


2 Like a masterpiece, I'm in your eyes [Ball Preparations]
It was inevitable that Ducky was going to accept the invitation to the ball, but she's insisted on shopping for a dress by herself, leaving her maid at home. This gives her an opportunity to peruse the sights in the Trade Quarter.

Of course she'll spend time in Modiste, where she's likely to solicit opinions on the dresses she's trying, but one may also encounter her at the Apothecary or gazing in the window of Darcy Clothing (especially when she realizes there are clothes here cut to accommodate a woman's body).


3. Now your colors are in front of me [Masked Ball]
Ducky, experienced at gathering information, had hoped to have a quiet presence at the ball. Her dove grey dress, paired with gloves barely two shades lighter, was meant to not draw attention.

The cat mask she received on entry throws that plan into disarray immediately, as the compulsion to act in a feline manner overtakes her. The evening is filled with memorable gaffes, as Ducky:
- chooses someone's lap to curl up in without so much as a how-do-you-do
- reaches out to swat at the loose ends of a ribbon in someone's hair or attached to their dress
- knocks a glass off a table, spilling wine or water on someone's lap
- butts her head against someone's hand, as if asking to be petted

She is going to have a lot of explaining to do, in the morning.


4. We're a picture-perfect oddity [Wildcard]
darkersolstice or darkersolstice#9463 on Discord to plot

3

[assjokes]

( she recognizes the helpful maid-not-maid from before, but she also recognizes the helpful maid-not-maid was not scampering about on all fours prior to this. it was only a few hours ago! or maybe it was days? gideon doesn't know, everything is such a muddled blur, but she knows she's somehow duty bound to help the one who helped her. yes, it was only a tea mishap, but ducky didn't have to help her. she choose to, the same way gideon is choosing to now. )

Alright, girly... Tell me what's gotten into you, yeah?

( she hesitates at first, but then comes to pet the lady square on the forehead. it's a hell of an awkward gesture, but it's not as if there's a manual on what to do when your flatmates become kittens. )

Eponine Thenardier - Les Miserables

[gardienne]

Arrival

Eponine has no idea where she is or who this Lady Phlegm is and frankly she doesn't care. She's remarkably blasé about waking up in a completely different place to the muddy ditch where she had fallen asleep and goes with the butler almost in a daze. It's only once she's allowed to roam the buildings that she seems to gain her senses enough to realise that she's completely out of place. The rags that she wears are filthy - she's filthy - her hair's a massive knot and... and she doesn't know how to behave. She's too dirty to sit down anywhere, too smelly to be wanted in a kitchen, too awkward to stand and chat. She flees the people in the communal rooms and finds the garden instead. Outside is better. Outside, she finds a little watering can and sets about watering the flowers. When somebody approaches, she drops the can guiltily.

"I weren't picking none, I swear. Just helping them to grow, you know? I swear. It's water."

The ball

A Cinderella moment has happened to Eponine. She'd been persuaded into a bath and scrubbed within an inch of her life. Several changes of water later, and after an hour of makeup and hair styling, Eponine had been given a dress and sent to a ball.
She stands shyly in the entrance, her golden mask obscuring her features. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't belong and she's going to be found out.

"What do I do?" she hisses anxiously at the nearest person.

Apples

Eponine wants an apple. She really wants an apple. Not just because they're food and her stomach rumbles nearly constantly. Not just because she can see the juice, can smell their sweet scent on the air as the stall girl bites them. Not because, hidden as she is, her mouth is watering.
No. But because they're gold - and gold sells.

She waits until there's a crowd before she slips over to the stall and quickly pockets a couple of the apples. One for herself and one to sell. Surely the seller won't notice two fruits less?
Eponine walks away quickly, hands pressed tight to her bulging pockets.

arrival

[frenchkissed]

( eddie is also deathly out of his element in this space. still, he likes it. he doesn't know what the fuck it is, but he likes it. the fresh air, the... carriages. it's beyond him, yeah, but he's managing to take it all in better than most, it seems.

when the watering can clatters to the ground, he raises his hands to show he's unarmed. )

Hey, woah. It's okay. We're cool. I'm not gonna... get you in trouble. I'm not a cop. Guard, I guess. ( he hasn't looked too closely at the system of crime and punishment in this place just yet. ) If you want a flower, take it. It's cool. It's just a flower.

Tsukuyo | Gintama

[tsukky]

Arrival

[ If you're anywhere near the vicinity of this particular drawing room in this particular townhouse within the Grand Crescent you'll be hearing a particularly disgruntled conversation between two women right now. Evidently a fellow new arrival and her maid by the sounds of things.

Apparently the maid has a few suggestions as to how a "young lady" should be spending her time. That was the sound of someone hurriedly closing the lid of the pianoforte with a frustrated sigh. ]

I ain't learnin' how to embroider and I'm not playin' this thing. Ya just need to tell me how I get out of here.


Masked Ball

[ Tsukuyo's maid picked out the violet purple dress she's now wearing. Something about bringing out the colour of her eyes. As if she should really be concerned with things like that. For now, she won't make a fuss, not when she wants to try and blend in until she's had a chance to try and figure out what the heck is going on here and whether she can find an exit from this place as quickly as possible.

Blending in is kind of hard when you keep bumping into people though. Usually in such a way that her eyes can't help but dramatically lock with those of the person she bumps into through their respective masks. Like something from a terrible romance novel.

Speaking of masks, it seems to have started ever since she was handed this pink one to put on... ]

Damnit- [ Excuse her unladylike language as she smacks into you, but you're her third crash victim of the evening. ]


Wildcard

[ooc: happy to play something that isn't here, just pm me! ]

masked ball

[forkuina]

( it's nice to hear tsukuyo had some luck with her maid, because zoro and his maid couldn't be further from the same page. their on different chapters. in different books. every glittering, glistening suit thrust his way was immediately struck down — literally, with a sword. like hell is he going anywhere looking like crystal globe! he just wants to be normal and subtle, damn it!

so, he's late to the ball, because he and his maid couldn't agree on anything suitable, and he eventually stole off into the night with the least ostentatious outfit he could find, which was still a lot for him. once this is all over, he's slicing all of these buttons off.

by the time he gets to the masks, he doesn't even care. he's never cared about matching, or colors, or fashion, or anything like that. whatever they hand him, he puts on.

which is why, when some woman seems to fall right into his arms, his forehead loudly proclaims the following thoughts in quick succession:

IS SHE OKAY?
IS SHE HURT?
SHE LOOKS SORT OF LIKE... )

Oi, oi. Are you drunk?

( what else would cause a lady to trip on air so egregiously? he helps her to get upright and steady, like the begrudging gentleman he is.

NO, THERE'S NO WAY.
TSUKUYO WOULD NEVER STAMP AROUND LIKE MORON.
IT MUST BE SOME OTHER LADY. )

Be more careful.

Sersi | MCU (Eternals)

[terraphile]

Arrival

It's confusing- Sersi doesn't understand what's happening... especially as small beings dance around her as she stirs and sits up. She's exhausted, despite whatever nap she may have just taken, so all she can truly do is listen politely as the young woman who's named herself her maid, introduces herself.

How strangely out of place she must look, Sersi muses as she follows the woman to the Grand Crescent in what some would describe as her superhero uniform. She doesn't have long to mull over that, however, as she takes the opportunity to instead pay attention to the route they're taking to get there.

After her crash course in everything that pertains to this place, Sersi takes it upon herself to look around the common rooms of the townhouse- very aware of the assigned maid following and lingering just close enough as she does so. That might get tiresome after a while, but she remembers living in the era this is meaning to simulate... it's nothing she hasn't dealt with before. (Though back then it was with Ikaris- here, it would seem, she'd be dealing with it alone.)

With one of the drawing rooms being her last stop, she'd grabbed a book from the parlor to flip through in there. Seeing as she's not the only person in the drawing room, she stops just after entering and smiles brightly and waves her hand a little.

"Hello- do you mind having some company?"

If so, she's happy to go somewhere else. Just say the word to the strangely dressed lady.


Masked Ball

An invitation to a ball was hard to pass up- and by what her maid said... wasn't to be passed up. Sersi wasn't going to try and ditch anyways, celebrations and parties had been some of her favorite past times on Earth, equal only to the quiet, intimate moments she experienced when working with the humans in smaller groups. At her request, the maid found a gown in the appropriate style that was a deep teal and decorated with beads and lace.

The peacock mask matched her gown best- and if Sersi were to know that the masks had different effects, she'd be cursing her own choice now. She's been pulled into quite a few dances (perhaps even with you?) as she finds her dance card filling without prompt. It's fine- she does love to dance, but this might become a little too much a little too fast.

Later, she can be found hiding in a quieter pocket of the room, behind a pillar or curtain, with a glass of punch in hand. Upon being discovered, however, she'll offer as big a smile as she can muster.

"Are you taking a bit of a breather as well?" she asks breathlessly.


Wilcard

[ Want to do something else? Let's do it! If you wanna plot just hit me up in a DM or on plurk at swankified, or disco at swankified#6984 :D ]

Masked Ball

[zemnianjoy]

Everything had been a bit much for Caleb. He normally enjoyed dancing, it helped get his mind off of things however everything had gotten too far to quickly and it felt like anxiety seemed to be on the menu for today, and thus he'd found a cup of sangria punch in hand and he was making his way to an even more unnoticed part of the floor.

To introvert, it was introverting. Let us call it how it is.

He starts for a moment as he notices that the spot he was attempting to occupy was already claimed by someone. He could stare at the people from across the room easier from here, and there was a light breeze coming in from a slightly ajar balcony door which allowed for come circulation. There was so many people here, that even a little bit of air flow was precious, a positive crush. The first thing he noticed was that he could not draw his eyes away, and it felt like a strange bit of magic.

"Ja.. there are so many people here and I think I am a bit overwhelmed." and then he stood a safe distance away. Ever the gentleman was Caleb Widogast. "This day has been quite a bit to take in. If you would rather not share this corner however, I can leave."

Caleb Widogast ♏︎ Critical Role - The Mighty Nein

[zemnianjoy]

(ooc: sorry for this sad wizard baby, you guys)

I. WELCOME - Schnitt mein Handgelenk auf einem schlechten Gedanken

[ It had been a strange glow, a calling that had ushered him to sleep within the safe confines of the Amber Dome and had therefore brought him here upon the wakening of his sleep-lidded eyes. Rumblecusp had brought much needed balm to Caleb Widogast's ever-worrying mind and for a moment, he stirred. There was a soft and gentle voice humming in his ear, a "Wake up, Knuddelbär" and he shifted until he was looking up.

"Mater?" he struggled up, his heart thudding in his chest as he looked up into the visage of someone whom he had not seen in.. years upon, a swirl of sick revulsion and longing, a kind woman with flame hair and warm amber eyes, locks of white hair shot through greeting him and offering him simply a letter. He reached out as if seeing a ghost but took it anyways, hand trembling all the while.

And that was how he found himself following his.. Mo.. no retainer. Following her as he listened to her explanation and finding it hard to focus on anything for that matter except the apple scent of her. Her name was.. Una? How could that even be possible? She had died.. he'd seen it so. His keen mind was fuzzing out into a monster from one of those fairy stories from his childhood; made of flames, bones and teeth

It was impossible to logic his way out of this one.

She took his leave of him at the threshold with a kindly pat to his arm and then he entered in his purple longcoat and the scarf that looped around his shoulders; he did not look ill-suited to the setting, but he was sorely in need of a shave, and his clothes were only a trifle rumpled. But he was wan and pale and he did not make it further than the hallway before he could not move any further, feeling himself cast into muddled throes of anxiety. And thus, he did the only thing he could do, and that was press his forehead against the wall and struggle to take fortifying breaths. ]

II. MASKED BALL - Wo der Einsame wandert

[ Numbly he went through ball preparations with the assistance of his Retainer. A dark navy waistcoat, trousers in a dark chestnut that he rather thought emphasis'd how much of a beanpole he was, and a cravat that he had insisted be tied simply. His long hair pulled back with a few rogue locks of red that could not be contained.

The people that milled about; so many new and strange faces and all he could do was hug the wall. The blue mask that he had selected perched on his face, chosen to match his eyes. He'd seen the cat one and had been tempted, but instinct had guided him; not to mention that he was without Frumpkin currently and he felt absolutely lost.

The moment that it settled, it weighed him down in such an impossible way. He'd managed to calm himself down enough to function but this seemed to center in his solar plexus and downward, attempting to pull his heart down into his feet; and thus he stood there, an outlier as he hugged the barest edge of the ball room. Even if he had wanted, he did not think he could take a single step else the floor pull him into it's marble grandeur. ]

III - WILDCARD - Hoffnung auf Feuer

Hello everyone, I am Nia~! If you have an idea, go ahead and run it past me for delicious plotting reasons! You can also find me alwaysbeenasmiler

II

[dunamagic]

[Essek wasn't sure how to feel about the situation he's found himself in, his mind whirling with ways this could happen. Almost without thought he followed his maid's lead, allowing her to pick out a dress of black velvet and golden silks that pop against his lavender skin, a fine choker of gold and diamonds sits on his neck. The pearl at the bodice is almost like a moon against his white freckled skin - more skin than he's shown publicly in many decades. It would be a lie to say he doesn't feel exposed and vulnerable, but the dress allows him to float at the very least.

The unease he feels is masked perfectly with an enigmatic smile and an air of confidence - he was perfectly sculpted for courts and politics, he was not the Shadowhand for his talent alone. The mask of gold that perfectly matches his outfit rests on his face, his eyes like amethysts in contrast.

The first brush against someone tells him something is wrong. His breath catching and a shiver running down his spine. One that is quickly followed by distress. What--

Caleb? No, it.. Yes, he's sure of it, that red hair, the quick glance he thinks he caught of the man's profile in the mask, blue eyes-- Essek quickly approaches, hopeful and full of anxiety. Dread. Was the only familiar face here the one he was most guilt ridden over? The one person that he wasn't sure he could look to.. Still--]

It seems as if we have both been brought here. [Eyes on the dance floor, not on Caleb. He cannot bring himself to look at the man, could barely find the words.]

Malcolm Bright | Prodigal Son

[prodigalmess]

I. WELCOME
Malcolm Bright is a man who is used to nightmares, and this may honestly be the worst one that he's had.

Waking up under a tree after being transported to some magical facsimile of the Regency Era is not what Malcolm was hoping to do today. He'd cracked his eyes open to find an older woman standing over him, a grim expression on her face. She introduced herself as Miss Gates, his servant. After assuring him that he wasn't dreaming, she explained everything as she led him to his room. Of course, she had no real explanation as to how he got here or why he was here, just that he was lucky to be counted among Lady Pheme's chosen. Miss Gates is rather insistent, offering to cater to his every whim while also being a bit of a hen. Is he hungry? He looks hungry. Insisting that he's not does nothing.

Once he's able to get rid of Miss Gates, Malcolm takes stock of where he is and what's going on. He's been given some sort of steampunk flip phone that looks like it was cobbled together by a kid for a science fair. The house he's in is, admittedly, quite beautiful, but he doesn't have time to be here. He needs to find a way out.

After exploring the house, he ends up in one of the drawing rooms, which at least has an ample collection of books. As he browses the titles, the door opens behind him and he sighs softly.

"Seriously, Miss Gates, I'm fine," he says as he turns around. "You don't have to-"

The person behind him is not Miss Gates.

"Oh. Sorry."

II. MASKED BALL
When it becomes clear to Malcolm that going home is not going to be as easy as he thought, he realizes that he's going to have to get craftier. He needs to investigate and figure out why he's here. Then, maybe, he can find a way out.

The Regency Era is not one of his favorite time periods. Everything is so formal and ridiculous. He's a polite man, but Malcolm has never cared about society. They were all extremely quick to turn their back on him and his family after his father went to prison. He doesn't give a shit about impressing them. However, when in Rome...

Miss Gates is very insistent that Malcolm attend the ball and even finds Malcolm an appropriate outfit to wear. Are there shades of his mother in Miss Gates? Maybe. It's not something that he wants to psychologically explore at the moment.

Upon arrival, Malcolm takes one of the silver masks - keeping it simple so he can hopefully blend in better. While the glitter of the party goes on around him, he checks doors, finding none of them accessible. This is strange.

Speaking of strange, Malcolm actually feels... hungry. This is unusual for him. He's contemplating a visit to the refreshment table when someone near him asks to see his dance card.

"Oh," Malcolm replies. "I haven't filled out it. I don't really know anyone-" He lifts the card attached to wrist and sees that it is now filled with names. "What the hell?" he says under his breath.

III. WILDCARD - NETWORK
un: sherlockfreud
Anyone got any thoughts on what we have to do in order to be able to leave?

[ ooc: If you'd like to do something different, feel free to contact me via PM or sparks_fly. ]

III

[dunamagic]

un: Shadowhand
According to the servant assigned to me, we are to produce Thumos. When asked what was needed to be freed, they merely repeated it.

If there is a quota to meet, I do not know it.

brienne of tarth — game of thrones.

[sapphireisle]

⚔ arrival

( what in the seven...?

that's all brienne can think when she wakes in the field, short and stout man in strange clothes hovering by her elbow and wringing his hands at her. he says something about her needing to follow him, and she stares silently for a long moment. this is very much not king's landing, the city still mostly a burned out hovel at the moment though rebuilding is well underway under the king (and his hand's) watchful eye. even more oddly, she actually does follow him; there is something inherently likable about the man, despite brienne towering over him by at least a foot. they make a strange pair down unfamiliar streets, some whispering behind their hands.

it's not until they reach a palace (something familiar!) that brienne realizes no one else is wearing armor. no one is carrying swords. on the contrary, they seem alarmed by hers. )

W... Wait. ( she cuts in on the explanation of whatever it is he's saying, tone harsh. ) You're saying there is this 'Lady Pheme' and she's brought me? Here? What for?

( it's possible that some fellow new arrivals might hear the exchange that follows. it's a battle of wills, of course; brienne flatly refusing to move an inch further until she has answers, and the butler being quite unable to make her. eventually, however, she will move on...

it's probably a good thing that she's behind closed doors when thumos is explained. after all, the flushing of her cheeks, her shouting ... it's a bit undignified, isn't it? still, neighbors might hear. after all, townhomes are connected! )

⚔ masked ball

( ordinarily, brienne wouldn't be caught dead at one of these sorts of things. they were for the fancy lords and ladies of westeros, the ones who had been raised at the teat of politicking and all that nonsense. things were simpler on tarth; the lord and his lady lived elbow to elbow with their people, and her father had never stood for frippery. at renly's court, she'd dodged this as much as she could and frankly, had never truly been invited or included (except in jest). winterfell had suited her; there had been no time for this foolishness. and so far, king bran was not turning out to be like cersei or joffrey or any of the others.

all things aside — she needs answers. the newly minted knight commander could not just leave westeros, not even at the whims of whoever (or whatever) this lady pheme professed to be. it's the pursuit of answers that allows brienne to be talked into leaving her sword and armor behind, to listen to her butler as he talks her into a blue dress and slippers that pinch. to ignore the voice in her head that says she looks ridiculous, like a bear trying to stand on it's hind legs and dance.

she accepts the piece of paper they hand her with impatience, barely sparing it a second glance. someone is on hand to politely explain the purpose and she waves them away, eyes narrowed in a disbelieving stare. she dons the peacock mask without truly thinking about it, already scanning the overwhelming black and white room with singleminded intention.

once the dancing starts, a servant at her elbow coughs, indicates the parchment. brienne glares again, then looks back at the paper, which is suddenly full of names of people. she's never liked dancing, never been good at it (the coordination required is very different from dueling), and she's not about to start now. however, in the name of her pursuit of lady pheme, she might stumble into the dance floor or be found by her randomly assigned partner on her dance card. oops! )

⚔ how do you like them apples?

( the trade quarter could be anywhere — brienne's been many places in westeros, and they all seem to have things like this. if she closed her eyes, the bustle of it might just sound familiar; it's only seeing the strange clothing, buildings, and people that remind her she's far from home. worst of all, no one seems to know where to find this lady pheme, or how to insist on getting home.

particularly curious onlookers might find brienne trying intently to engage stall owners in conversation about their gracious overlord host. they may also just be curious in a tall woman (over six feet!) wandering about the markets.

at the stall selling golden apples, she's eyeing them suspiciously. ordinarily she'd never eat anything that color, but... they do look good. it's been a long morning. would it be so terrible to try..? )

⚔ network

I am hoping someone will be able to point me the way to Lady Pheme.
I have a great deal to speak with her about.
- Ser Brienne of Tarth

⚔ wildcard

( let me know if there are no options that appeal, or just toss me a starter — i'm flexible! brienne is taken post-canon, after she's been named lord commander. my intention is that brienne sticks out like a sore thumb, as she does in her source canon and likely even more so in this setting! )

Network

[zemnianjoy]

I have quite a bit of questions myself and should like an audience with her as well. If you find her, could you please let me know?
-Caleb Widogast.

aerith gainsborough (ffvii remake)

[floresco]

– welcome

[ She’s been tailed, she’s been guarded, she’s been locked in a lab, but Aerith can’t say that she’s ever been buttled by someone before. After waking with a start beneath the wisteria, it’s Lorcan - as the short, grim-faced man calls himself - that navigates a slew of questions and kindly phrased objections that only come all the faster once he presents her with her letter from Lady Pheme.

The whole way to the townhouse he politely brushes off every point Aerith tries to make. She’s got something important to do at home, not to mention, people waiting for her to come through and do it, he knows, he hears her, but she is here at the pleasure of this city’s ruler, and even though (as she’s pointed out numerous times) she is just a florist and nobody special, there’s really no arguing with the reality of the situation as surreal as it may be.

It’s not until Lorcan looks at her in confusion when she asks him how far away Kalm is from here that the situation sinks in for her. This isn’t a dream, and it’s not some weird magic pocket of her world that she somehow fell into, it’s somewhere else entirely.

He stops hovering long enough for her to explore the townhouse he brings her to, informing her that others like her may be around and settling in as well. That she isn't alone is galvanizing, and as she bounds up the stairs to start knocking on doors and peeking inside, her hopes are high that she’ll come across a familiar face. She wasn’t the only one on the road to Kalm, after all, and though she isn’t the kind of person who would wish a weird mess like this on anyone, a friend would be a wonderful thing to find in all this weirdness. ]

Oh, I’m sorry! [ Aerith stops with a start when the first door she opens has someone waiting behind it. ] I was hoping you were somebody I knew. Do you know if any of the other rooms up here are taken?

– masquerade

[ The blue of the dress she and Lorcan negotiated her into matches the blue diamonds of her harlequin mask, and as she enters the sprawling fete, Aerith is glad she has it to hide behind, even though as means of concealment go the mask is a terrible one. Aerith looks around the ball, the words ‘hoo boy’ surfacing across the front of it, remaining there during the hasty path she beats towards the back of the room, aiming to occupy an inconspicuous spot of wall

My feet hurt, replaces the last message as she lingers by a large decorative urn, watching the dancers on the floor. I wonder where they learned to do that. This city is so fancy, maybe they give lessons at the schools here. The thought makes her look down at the card she was given along with the mask on her face, turning it over and studying it as her disguise continues to reveal more than she’s aware of.

Is this supposed to be a kind of game? Then, after the row of lines printed on the card begins to fill with tidily scripted names. Who are these people? I wish just one name looked familiar, I wish I knew how everybody was doing back home.

With a perplexed sigh, Aerith tucks the card into the sleeve of her dress and looks back out over the ball. Just gotta keep going, I guess. She spots another person lingering on the sidelines, squares her shoulders, and approaches. ]

Hello.

[ It's as good a place to start as any, right? She even lifts her hand in a little wave, smiling from behind her mask as she spends a split second debating before holding out the dance card in her hand. ]

This might sound strange but, is your name on here?

[ Maybe they know more about what’s going on than I do. My card has these names for a reason, right? Adds the mask on her face, helpfully. ]

– wildcard

[ something else? hit me with a start or shoot me a pm to plot. ]

masquerade

[dunamagic]

[After a rather inadvertently erotic dance with Caleb, Essek wasn't too keen on a repeat. Having tried to discard his golden mask in some corner of the room, he tried to be creative by using lace from his gown, but was promptly stopped by some magic here. After trying to get another mask, he did convince another person to trade with him, a game he had called it -- he could feel bad making them take his golden mask, but he doesn't. So, now adorned with a black cat mask and a dress of black velvet and golden silks that pop against his lavender skin. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest casually, making himself smaller to avoid contact with others.. just in case.

Despite his concerns, Essek holds himself regally, looking at home in the environment, his expression calm and enigmatic -- the glass of wine in hand helps. So, when approached, he casts his eyes at the rather pretty woman that addresses him.]

Hello. Ah, let's see, [His thick accent is still easy to understand as he tilts his head to get a better look at the writing, easily spotting his own elegant script. Again..]

Seems so, yes-- [His brow furrows when he hears her continue but her mouth is not moving. Curious.. though the room is full, perhaps it was another nearby.] I am Essek Thelyss, whom do I have the pleasure of, Miss--?

Zack Fair | FFVII

[promissory]

1. Arrival

[There are definitely worse ways to wake up. In comparison to being on the run for who knows how many months at this point and fighting your own coworkers at any time, being asleep under a really pretty tree is honestly one heck of an improvement.

Too bad Zack can't let himself enjoy it.

Sure, it's nice to be led along by a really pretty woman, too - listen, Zack is a young guy who can appreciate attractive women, especially after said months of being on the run - but he's not comfortable with any of this.

Andovale? Where on Gaia is that? And where's Cloud? That's the more concerning matter.

So he allows this maid woman to fuss over him, though she offers no real answers, only a foreign wardrobe that Zack hopes he can disregard, and encouragements to get out there and have fun!

Yeah, right. He has bigger things to worry about.

Instead of going out, he explores the house and finds himself in one of the drawing rooms with some of his new housemates.]

Hey, question. We all showed up here around the same time, right? Did you happen to see a guy, little shorter than me, with spiky, blond hair? He woulda looked like he had a really rough night at the bar.


2. Masquerade: Pink Edition

[Never in his life has Zack been to a fancy dance. Hell, he's never been to a casual dance, even back in Gongaga. If someone were to poke and prod, maybe he'd say his mom danced with him around the kitchen of their little house when he was a toddler, but that hardly counts. And then being in SOLDIER meant he was simply too busy going on missions for Shinra to make an appearance at some social gathering. That was always going to be more the President's area than that of his employees.

Which was always fine with Zack. He'd rather approach situations head-on instead of tiptoe his way around them or say things no one actually means. Which also means he has no training in dancing of any kind and even if these clothes weren't so tight he'd still feel so out of his element.

And, seriously. He feels like his arms are going to bust out of this jacket if he moves the wrong way. And he can't even do squats to make himself focus! Just the worst!

At least wearing a pink mask doesn't hurt his feelings too much, considering everyone else looks just as weird as he feels. Small wonders or something. Until someone else "accidentally" knocks into the back of him and he ends up knocking into someone else, solid chest to...possibly not as solid chest.]

Shoot, sorry! You're not hurt or anything, right? That keeps happening to me tonight. I don't know what the deal is.


3. Dumb Apples

[Reconnaisance. If Zack is going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, then he's determined to learn as much about this place as he can. He listens to what his maid tells him, but also goes about the town when he can to simply soak it all in. Listen to the other inhabitants, talk to shopkeepers, just look and connect what he can.

He just so happens to pass by a certain stall selling golden apples. The vendor gives him the spiel and makes these apples sound as if they're the gods' gift to man or whatever. Zack listens politely, but then shakes his head with a little smile.]

Sorry, no thanks. I've had my fill of apples for a lifetime.


Wildcard!

[Hit me up if you're feeling something different! You can find me at LadyotRings if you'd like to work out any specifics.]

3

[zemnianjoy]

[ Caleb Widogast had been watching this particular vendor for the time being, conversely he was taking note of all of the effects that the apples were having on the people who took the stall-keeper up on the offer. One lady had immediately latched onto her gentleman companion and hurried away, hand sliding to his rear to squeeze.

Another, after a single bite, had managed to ran himself face first into the little kiosh that sold an assortment of fine flavored ices, quite without thinking or clearly looking.

When there was a refusal, he pushed himself off the tree to weigh in on the strange things that he had seen. ]

That was probably a good thing that you did so; it seems that the effects either air to unmitigatably frisky or irrepairably unfortunate.

Jon Snow ✥ Game of Thrones

[northerndragon]

WELCOME - DRAWING ROOM

Jon is a bearded man in his mid-twenties: his hair is dark and curling, and while his height is not imposing, his bearing and his appearance of lean strength might be. This is not his world, but he is only a little out of place in it -- so far.

Still, when he enters the drawing room, he hears the harp playing. He had liked musicians when they had played at Winterfell, but never as his sister had. But this place is some kind of palace, in its way. It is far cleaner and less rough than he's used to, with its plastered and painted and gilded walls, its floors of wood or marble or silken carpet.

He immediately backs out of the room, before entering it again a moment later.

Maybe you see him then and remark on it, or maybe you see him a little while after, when he sits in a chair, sipping something from a glass. (A glass! It's rare and expensive, and there is little of it in the North outside of Winterfell, where they do not drink from it.) A servant approaches him with a plate full of delicate little iced cakes, and he says, in a low voice, No more, and waves the butler away. He murmurs Seven hells! under his breath once the servant is out of earshot, and shakes his head in amazement.

Then he looks at you, and says, "This what it's like where you come from?"

MASKED BALL -- PEACOCK MASK

i. dance card
He is told that he should dance with the people whose names are on the card. But he doesn't know most of them, or how to find them.

So it is that he wanders through the ball with a golden peacock mask on -- a garish thing, but it was given to him in the same way that the card was -- and sometimes says, "Forgive me, but -- do you know who this is?" and points to a name on the card.

Is it yours?

ii. Irresistible?
It was his way, as a lad, to hang around in corners, both a little unwilling and a little unable to join in others' fun. He has been called sullen. He is still this way sometimes, even as a king: there is a bit of distance between the high table and the others, back at Winterfell, and he takes no one to his rooms, not even the ones who have made it clear that they would be eager to go there. No one calls him sullen anymore -- but they speak of him brooding, and some seem to find it charming. He doesn't really understand why.

Tonight, though, no one seems to want to allow him to be standoffish, no matter how little he looks like he wants to be there. Any number of people have approached him. Will you? He has no way of knowing that you might not be doing it entirely of your own volition.

If he happens to approach you, he asks, "Tired of all this dancing yet?" or "This city -- do you know if it has any hunting grounds?"

He does not mean the ball.

GOLDEN APPLE

It's trouble, isn't it? Trouble to eat a strange fruit. Trouble to feel like this -- it makes him miss Ygritte, and she is long gone. He has not wanted a woman since, but part of him does now.

That sort of trouble, he can handle: honor demands that he ignore it. Being a good man demands that he ignore it.

But what he cannot ignore is how much he seems to be tripping over his own feet today. He nearly falls on the street outside of a shop. When you see him, he walks into a door that had been open a moment before.

He stands there dazed, rubbing his stinging face, before he says, "I ought to go back to my rooms before someone is killed."

[OOC: Got other ideas? I'm at detectivefiction -- or you can drop me a PM or just surprise me with a wildcard! Some preferences on journal. Jon doesn't actually like a ton of attention and tends to be kind of repressed about sex and relationships, as he canonically has a lot of internalized shame, so a lot of these prompts are intended to pull him out of his comfort zone. Pull point is early s7, before his life gets really bad again.]

Appletime

[huntgodsbride]

"It seems like the only person you should be worrying about is yourself." Nora raises her eyebrows. She's never been so warm in her life before, and it makes me miss the coldness of her homeworld. Which is strange in itself.

She also misses her owlbear, but that is neither here nor there. What is, is this poor man's stinging face. "Started drinking a little early?"

Cassandra de Rolo | Critical Role (CRAU)

[ofwovenstone]

I. WELCOME.

Well. This is unexpected. It’s not the first time Cassandra has found herself waking somewhere strange and unusual, but she’d been in one place for so long that she thought that perhaps her travels between worlds had come to an end. Obviously she was wrong.

She wakes to the feeling of damp grass beneath her and the faint tickling brush of leaves and flowers against her cheek. And the soft tittering laughter from around her. Nymphs, she thinks, as they laugh and dance about her. Definitely nymphs.

Well. It seems her travels aren’t quite done. She ought to start learning what she can about this place. She’s in a glade of wisteria trees, and there, waiting for her, is a rather broad-shouldered dark haired man who she can only assume is a butler, judging by the way he’s dressed. (There’s something distinctive about the clothes and the bearing.) There’s a kindness and a warmth to their introduction; and that it’s strangely difficult to resist causes her… concern. But she folds that carefully away and follows him as he beckons for her to follow him from the glade.

He leads her to what appears to be her residence for the time being. And informs her that he is to be her butler. And no matter how she argues there’s no changing his mind. She doesn’t need a servant, truly. But no. It looks as though he’s not going anywhere for the time being. She’ll have to tread carefully, then.

The comm device is tucked away (to join her collection of such items from her travels), and her attention is turned to the letter.

“Well, that sounds like a threat, doesn’t it,” she murmurs wryly under her breath, once she’s finished reading. Yes, she’ll have to tread very carefully.

Later, her belongings are tucked carefully away in her quarters and she explores the place she’s calling home for the foreseeable future. (After gently but insistently refusing the tea and cakes prepared for her by her retainer. Perhaps she’s just… paranoid, but he seems awfully determined for her to eat and drink.) There are the kitchens, a dining room, a parlour with a library, two drawing rooms and a garden. She will be spending a great deal of time there, she knows it already. Should she stumble across someone else who she can only assume is another resident of the house (which means they’re a neighbour), she greets them with a rather friendly smile, a slight young woman with white-streaked dark curls and dressed rather strangely for the era. “You’ve only just arrived as well, I take it? What do you think of it all so far?”

II. AN INVITATION. PEACOCK MASK

An invitation to a ball. Of course it’s a ball. (There are always balls.) Cassandra is used to them by now, and as much as she’d rather decline, it seems it’s the only way to gain entrance to the Palace. So she dresses up, dresses to impress in the fashion of the times (she wonders if she could get away with wearing a man’s suit, because it would be preferable to wear trousers. But no. She’d stand out too much. So dress it is) and makes her way to the Palace.

The peacock mask she’s given rests easily on her face, and she feels more comfortable with the disguise. Only the moment she puts it on she feels as though everyone is staring at her. Yes, she knows her mask is rather colourful but this seems… unnecessary. And a bit over the top. She withdraws to the outskirts, skirts along the edges and instinctively tries to hide, to go unnoticed even in the crowded room. It doesn’t work, this time. Somehow, attention is always upon her. And Pelor, she hates it. She weathers it as best she can, uneasy at how… immediately charmed everyone seems to be by her, no matter what it is she says or does.

It's the mask. It has to be the mask. It was fine before she put the thing on. Her dance card is suddenly full of names, and she finds herself with far more attention than she likes. It’s easy to pretend otherwise, though; only if you know her does the tension in her blue-grey eyes draw attention. Otherwise her expression is perfectly affable and friendly. The tension in her shoulders, though, is a bit more noticeable, if someone is observant.

Feel like rescuing a girl from all the attention?



III. EXPLORATION.

Once Cassandra discovered the Academic Quarter, she starts spending a great deal of time there. Despite the disparaging and shocked looks she earns from some of the more… conservative men who frequent it. A woman! Gasp! She pays them no mind. It isn’t as though it will stop her at all. She attends an assortment of classes; astronomy, literature, botany, medicine… any and all subjects that strike her fancy, and taking detailed notes on all of them in precise, neat handwriting and in what seems to be some sort of code or strange language.

She also spends a great deal of time in the bookshops and the observatory. The coffeeshop and pub as well. The décor, and the insistence of the three sisters on wearing dark sunglasses is… curious. “Oh, that’s interesting,” she muses softly, sipping at her glass of beer and just… observing.

If anyone spends any sort of time there at all, they’re likely to catch at least a glimpse of a slight young woman with white-streaked dark curls.

Her favourite place in the Trading Quarter is the Apothecary. She'll spend ages there, talking about plants and their medicinal properties. Among other things. It reminds her of home. Not Whitestone. But the worlds that had come after. The market is quite nice, too. So much to see and explore.

Seeing a faun as the proprietor of the Jolly Nice makes a complicated knot of feelins well up in her chest. But it's nice to see one healthy, not twisted and dying. And ice cream is always a nice treat.

The dress shop, well... she suspects she's going to end up there at some point. (She wonders if she could, perhaps, find a few sets of men's clothes to have on hand secretly. You never know when you'll need a disguise. Also a proper sword and some daggers. Sturdy ones, made for combat rather than sparring.)

In the Naval Quarter she can mostly be found along the beach or the coastal path. Making careful note of when to avoid said path. She's spent enough time in other worlds with flowers that are hazardous to your libido to know to take such warnings seriously.

She spends less time in the Pleasure Quarter; it’s certainly interesting but it seems a place to tread carefully in. Given the nature of where they’ve found themselves, it’d be prudent to be careful what finds itself to the gossip mill. (She has no doubt there is one. There always is.) And to avoid being caught in a compromising position if at all possible. It’s probably inevitable, given the nature of things. She suspects that it might even be engineered to happen, if it would be interesting enough.

It doesn’t stop her from exploring and carefully mapping the place.


IV. WILDCARD.

[Exactly what it says on the tin. Feel like doing something else? Or plotting a little something? You can message me at this journal, or catch me on plurk at ThriceWiddershins. Or just toss a start up. The world is our oyster!]

Exploration

[knife2meetu]

This isn't the first time Leon Kennedy has seen her, but he can say this is the first time they've met. The pub, the markets, they're all solid locations to glean information. Vendors like to gossip with each other and their customers, lips loosen with enough beer. First time, he saw her sipping a beer, his attention wandering while he was pretending he wasn't eavesdropping on a pair of gentlemen at the bar. Second time, he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone who then bumped into Cassandra at the market. His brusque apology was meant for both of them, and his gaze flit twice to her in recognition before moving on.

It's along the coast, water licking at the shore, when he glances up at the movement in the corner of his eye and suddenly realizes: Hey, it's that lady from before. What can he say? She turns heads.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," quips the stranger, once they've meandered into earshot of each other, "People are gonna talk." The man has donned a utilitarian coat that suits the place, but the rest of it is an anachronism to the locals and present company alike: tight dark navy tee, brown gun harness, fingerless black gloves, combat boots, thigh holster and sturdy dark pants. He keeps a respectful distance, his hands empty when he shows them, then drops them into his coat pockets.

Vex'ahlia | Critical Role

[stolentrinkets]

I. Arrival.

[Vex'ahlia is used to finding herself in the grasses in the forest or fields outside of Whitestone, lounging in the sun with her bear companion. When she stretches, she doesn't feel Trinket's warm fur, nor the native grasses surrounding that area of Exandria. The girl near her clears her throat, excusing her for waking her up. She bids Vex to follow her, rambling on that they must get going to the city. There's something likable about her, and Vex gets up without question. She's not quite sure why she should follow, only that she does. The city doesn't feel too much different than Whitestone does, save for the less steampunky elements her husband had added in their time on the council there. Vex listens closely, listening to the girl's words as they make their way toward one of the houses.

She's intrigued, to say the least. Not that happy about being pulled here without her knowing, but intrigued enough to stay and find out what in the Nine Hells was going on.

The house reminds her of her own back home, so while she's a bit lost, she doesn't wander anywhere she's not supposed to. Once in the communal area, she picks up one of the cakes that were on one of the dainty plates laid on the table.]

Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?


II. Masked Ball

[Vex's favored colors match the scenery of the palace - she had chosen a dress of blue for the night, wanting to give off the best representation of herself and what her position offered her back home. She was a Lady back home, and she would act the part here as well. The cool tones of her dress match the peacock mask perfectly, and once inside, she's swallowed up by the crowd. Vex'ahlia is lively on her own even without the mask. She's beautiful, she's charming and witty. She carries on conversations and holds her own without even a thought.

She's hardly looked at the names on her dance card yet. She's not ready to dance yet, and she's had to turn down several jaunts onto the floor with a slight excuse that she just wasn't ready yet. She wants to make friends first, after all! She was a social creature, and while she didn't want to balk at tradition, she did want to see all of the sights before bogging herself down with dancing. Feel free to catch her dancing, though!

She stops by one of the food tables to get a cup of punch at one point.] What a lively thing tonight, isn't it? Nothing spared, it seems.


III. Wildcard

[Fancy Vex elsewhere? Feel free to post something! I'm over at earthkingdom or at Manda#7579 on discord!]

Vex, please-- help dress a dirt wizard, yes?

[zemnianjoy]

[ The Modiste and Tailor is somewhat crowded, perhaps too crowded for Caleb Widogast's taste, not to mention the fashions are such that he is uncertain exactly how to pick or even what to pick. He'd always preferred form and function to anything too fancy and extravagant and all he was seeing was rich, bright and flashy brocades, waistcoats in colours that he'd never wear. Yes, there was likely more sedate pieces in the back but he was simply not seeing it.

Upon reaching his room, his retainer had given him the name of a few clothiers within the Trade Quarter and so he had headed out as best as he could- He'd been almost tempted to veer right to the Academic Quarter however he did not.

And now he stood here within a conundrum; his own clothing were fine and of Rosohna make but due to being on an island for a few weeks, his garments were exceedingly travel worn, with splotches of mud from trekking around in the jungles and there may have been a few acid burns at the edges of a scarf from some of the local wildlife.

He naturally gravitated toward people who knew what they were doing, or seemed confident with this sort of establishment, and of course this happened to be a young half-elven woman who was parsing through the garments with all of the wherewithal of a military commander. ]

Excuse me, have you come across the, ah.. less showy waistcoats? I cannot find them.

[ There was a hint of desperation in those blue eyes, as if he was floundering in a shop that was not books, paper, and ink ]

Korra | The Legend of Korra

[avatar_state]

Welcome

It's one of the most gentle awakenings she's ever had. Gentle, quite, peaceful. Peaceful. For a few moments, she wondered if she had died, and awoken in the Spirit Realm.

Then, things got extremely strange very quickly, all of which was much more typical for her life and, as a result, convinced her she wasn't actually dead very quickly.

But she was alone. And from the tall maid that greeted her, she knows something more than the usual is afoot here. Even though she has repeatedly insisted that she didn't need a servant, it looked like she was stuck with one. One whom, at least, was good at letting her know where things were and what the situation she'd be facing was. Thumos - well, it's not entirely an alien concept, though she won't be having any acts of intimacy, that's for sure.

Which is what pains her, more than anything. She misses her friends, yes, but knowing she is separated from Asami...

But she can distract herself. By exploring, by trying to at least begin to unravel the mystery around who the Lady is, why she's here, what the ultimate purpose is...and see who else has been drawn into this plot.

The townhouses are as good a place as any to start.

Masked Ball

Something in all of this reminds her of the Earth Queen. The sort of...elaborate venality to everything. The focus on protocol, too...she's surprised she hasn't seen the equivalent of Dai Li agents around.

And while she might have a Silver Mask, no power on Earth would get her to dress any differently than she normally does.

Mako, standing next to her, understands fully.

'You're doing the right thing, keeping your guard up.'

"Maybe," she grumbles. "But this dancing..."

Masked Ball

[astrogator]

Arilanna Tayrey picks out this young woman as a potential kindred spirit. She, too, appears to be resisting the pressure put on them to conform, by their hosts or captors or however one might properly describe the agents of this Lady Pheme.

She herself wears a blue and silver uniform, very smart, a long skirt being her only concession to local protocol. That and the ridiculous peacock mask, but she lowers that momentarily, taking a look at this other woman.

'This dancing is ridiculous,' she supplies. 'I've been refusing. They can't make you.'

nehan | granblue fantasy

[apathie]

masked ball prep/clothes shopping

[nehan is unused to having a servant-- sure, there are plenty in the mafia, but people on the same social standing as nehan get nothing. but he won't lie, having someone wait on you hand and foot is useful. thus far, his tall, human butler has managed to procure tea suited to nehan's tastes-- a rarity, and while it's incomparable to what he had in karm, it's certainly better than the piss that passes as tea in the mafia-- and now they're off to shop for a suitable outfit for the ball. apparently he doesn't have to worry about money for now, they can just have a loan... which doesn't sit well with nehan, but needs must.

at a store, he's sitting in an armchair, one leg crossed over another, surrounded by shoes. his manservant is going back and forth, showing him suits and handsome coats, but nehan only gives them a cursory look before sending the man away again to find another outfit. should another person come in, he'll lazily flick an ear.]

Just move the shoes aside if you need to pass, I'll have them cleared away soon enough. [he won't even do it himself.]

masked ball (blue mask)

[nehan would have preferred to wear his own mask, but oh well...! he has to resist tugging at it because it digs into his nose bridge, but he can just deal. even if the feel of it gives his fluffy ears a slight lean back, an unhappy cant. at least his suit is more comfortable, the back exposed even if it's not immediately obvious under the cape.

he's also hungry. but given how the food here is just hors d'oeuvres, they can only do so much to feed him.

when someone asks him to dance, however, nehan doesn't even think-- he tugs his mask up just enough to free his nose bridge, leans in-- or stands on his toes, depending on the height difference-- and gives the stranger a long lick from the jawline to the cheek, as far ass he can go until the other person's mask gets in his way. then he rocks back, licking his lips.]

Not bad.

wildcard
[ bring your own prompt! i'm also open to changing up nehan's mask for the ball. this journal has info and preferences available, but if you'd like to discuss things with me first, feel free to PM. ]

masked ball (i'm sorry)

[offtuned]

[ Tristan happens to be wearing a gold mask, it's not like he chose it on purpose or knew what it would do. It's only a blessing he didn't get the one that makes you sad, because he's always sad. Unbearably sad. Too sad for a mask to do the sadding for him. Anyway, he's managed to avoid being touched by anyone.

Until he gets a little too close to the dance floor. He didn't ask the furry-eared, masked stranger to dance so much as they kind of got ushered together. But what can one do when their dance partner leans in and drags their tongue on your face?

Sir Tristan is used to being admired, but this is new. He's 99% sure this is new. Especially when, thanks to his own mask, he gives a most wanton moan of pleasure. ]

... [ He pants softly. What. ] Why have you done this?

[ Is he just pretending for the most part that he didn't react the way he did? Yes he is. It's only a slight step up from pretending to be asleep, but it's still a step up. ]

Mal Durrish | Star Wars Fandom OC | SW: Jedi Academy

[once_reborn]

Welcome

Waking up in a strange place is more than enough to set pretty much every instinct she's got on edge from the start. Tiny little creatures laughing at her, well, that's just a cruel little jogan fruit on top of things. But worse than all of it, by an order of magnitude, is finding out she has a servant. She's never been in any sort of position in life to have one, and the very idea is...more than a little repellent to her. Granted, quite a bit of that is that the giant, buxom woman in question had arrived without her sensing it, which had caused her to jump like a cat.

It was a wonder she hadn't ended up clinging to a branch or a ceiling or something.

And everything just got more suspicious from there. Surely the Remnant didn't have the juice left for anything like this - and even if they did, why would they come after her? She was...barely a Jedi Knight. There were better choices to target.

But she could thereafter be found doing everything possible to figure out what the kriff was going on - exploring every inch of the common spaces, including levering herself up to the top of a particularly large bureau to see if there were clues up there - and getting only an extensive sneeze owing to dust for her trouble.

You Shall Go To The Ball

A dance card? What even was that? What were these strange names that were filling it up?

She shifted a few times, uncomfortably. The maid had looked at her dubiously enough from the get-go, but apparently she was supposed to be dressed for the occasion, and so had, for reasons she couldn't quite figure, put on a dress.

It itched. Or maybe that was just her feeling like she looked ridiculous. But at least it could conceal weapons.

Now, with a little more advanced intelligence of the situation, she might have added another hypothesis - the uncomfortable feeling was a premonition of the problems the golden mask would cause.

Never Trust a Gift Apple in a Story

She'd been hungry. Fresh fruit always seemed like a good idea. And the apples in particular had seemed absolutely irresistible. And at first, well, this had seemed like an extremely good idea on her part.

She felt endlessly strong. Like she could bend durasteel, or..or...force leap right into the upper atmosphere! She wondered if this is how the most powerful Force-users felt, or, like, a rancor! Yes, strong enough to shrug off blaster bolts and smash through anything made by the hands of sentient beings...

She'd been drugged, obviously, which was the thought that occurred immediately after that.

It was then that the delightfully named 'concupiscense' had very definitely settled in. Hoo boy. Romance hadn't featured much in her life; attraction and sex had always been very a much a 'tomorrow we may die' itch-scratching sort of thing. You didn't have time to get...well, like this.

She tried to find a quiet spot to meditate in, trying to use her talents in the Force to find that calm centeredness that had done so much for her - and to absolutely no avail. She might as well be throwing snowballs at an AT-AT.

So she tries running instead, wearing exercise clothes the maid had reluctantly found for her. She can be found practically everywhere, running. And just going for it to try and outrun the desire in her head.

It doesn't help that, whatever else this Lady is, she has a keen eye for pretty people.

you shall go to the ball.

[songscape]

Uta's own mask is silver; aren't they a pair? She's graceful about the dance floor, keeping her card close and mask on. The hallucinations seem, to her, like they're just part of the party. So to see someone wallflowering or simply not as enthused as she is, is a little strange.

"Is somethin' wrong? Liven up!" She asks, brain buzzing a little with the effects of the mask and its hallucinations.

Annabelle "Annie" Dyer | OC

[ohmyscream]

Welcome

Annie woke up with a start. She didn't expect to wake up in the grass. It wasn't something she did. There is a kind looking woman in a crisp uniform looking like something out of one of her mother's favorite movies. Annie allowed herself to be helped up.

It was strange having everything explained. She doesn't get upset yet, instead Annie simply lets the servant lead her about. Eventually Annie looks at the woman seriously.

"Take me home. I need coffee if I'm going to deal with all of this... This..." Annie frowns even harder then waves a hand. "Stuff!"

Stuff was the best way to put it. Annie wasn't happy with being dragged from home even if she didn't exactly have anything going on right now. That wasn't the point. Annie is lead on a swift journey to the home she will be sharing with others. She has no idea who else is here but she has coffee and some cake to eat once it tempts her. She is too busy stewing in her own thoughts to eat yet.

Annie is startled out of her thoughts by the sound of someone else. She actually has no idea what to say. The urge to brandish something and demand an answer is strong but thankfully it passes.

"Uh... Hello." That is some place to start. Nice and non-threatening.

Masked Ball

(Part 1)

Annie had tried to turn down the mask handed to her. No such luck she was even surprised by the dance card. She had no idea that was actually a thing that was going to have to deal with.

Well, okay then. She does like the red gown that her servant had found for her. It doesn't exactly suit her shade of blonde but it certainly is a statement dress. She'll tolerate the peacock mask too because it is making it easy to get people to help her get rid of the many names of her dance card. If it wouldn't look too weird to avoid dancing Annie would have skipped this part.

She offers a soft smile to a stranger near her. "I'm trying to get this list out of the way. There's.... other things I'd rather be doing. What about you?"

(Part 2)

Have you ever looked across the room and met your soulmate? No? Well, Annie has swapped into a new mask and she sees someone incredibly important to her on a special level. It's kind of like having a soulmate but only never meant to be romantic. They are a truly awful person and she must ruin their life.

Making them feel utter shame at being caught dressed like that is now her life's goal. At least for tonight. She tracks their movement like a hawk watching a field mouse and fetches a glass of the reddest wine she can find. It is easy all she had to do was flutter her eyelashes and talk about how parched she was.

"Mmmm. That outfit looks really inspired." By the son of Satan. Annie takes a sip of her wine. Ah. Excellent vintage. Perfect for ruining a terrible outfit on a truly awful person.

(Part 3)

Much later in the night Annie has been somehow convinced to stop making people rue the day. Or the mask was bothering her and she talked a servant into getting her a fresh one. Blue didn't go with red very well.

Annie had it on a table and was trying to rest her feet. She knew that eventually she should try dancing again but she was so tired. All she could think about is that she missed her actual home.

Her friends. Even if it is complicated and Annie isn't sure they've actually been parted.

"Sorry." Annie nibbles at her lip before slipping the mask back on. It is super late but Annie is aware being caught without her mask might be seen as lewd. "I was... I was taking a break. Some party, right?"

Welcome

[tsukky]

"Hello."

Equally nice and non-threatening response from Tsukuyo, although she's not smiling - that's just her though. Plus who would want to smile in a situation like this?

She doesn't recognise the other woman, who also appears to have just moved into this particular townhouse. She doesn't look like a local either, nobody living here does and her maid did inform her that these giant houses were specially for new arrivals.

She has reluctantly taken a seat in the drawing room but her posture is anything but relaxed and her eyes are constantly taking in everything going on around them. Looking out for any sign that this all might just be some kind of bad dream or if it is all real, an exit would be great.

After a while, Tsukuyo does make something of an attempt at conversation with the other woman though.

"Apparently we're 'sposed to just drink tea and coffee and eat cake and pretend like there's no issue with any of this."

Hawke | Dragon Age 2

[taleofthe]

[Her canon point is still up in the air. Going with sometime in the first part when they’re still living with Gamlen, for the moment.]

I. WELCOME
Hawke wakes with a gasp, hands instinctively going to her blades. This isn’t Gamlen’s; his place might be less than great, but there’s not any grass on his beds. Or trees, for that matter, as she takes in her surroundings. And she doesn’t think she’d been sleeping… except it appeared she had been. Somehow. She just doesn’t remember it. “Looks like I’m not in Kirkwall anymore,” she retorts, rising gracefully to her feet and looking around as she takes everything in. Including the strange women laughing and dancing about her.

Okay. Not what she expected. Nor did she expect the young woman standing nearby to introduce herself as her maid. It was rude to laugh in her face, but she couldn’t help it. She hasn’t had a maid in her life. And she doesn’t need one now. The girl refuses to be sent away. “Are you paid well? That’s all that matters. I won’t need your help, but if you’re paid well for the position it doesn’t matter whether I do or not.”

What she’s told sounds… ridiculous. She’s been brought here by someone named Lady Pheme for… something called Thumos? It’s better to know what she’s getting herself into, even if she had nothing to do with it this time. She was innocent. This time. (There’s bound to be trouble that she decidedly ISN’T innocent about, but that’s for future Hawke to worry about.)

Her quarters are a vast improvement to Gamlen’s place, and she suspects any housemates she might have will be better company than her uncle, as well. Which is why, when she finds another resident of the house, she smiles lopsidedly at them in greeting. “I guess we’re going to be neighbours.”


II. AN INVITATION: PINK MASK
Hawke gets the idea that skipping the ball would probably be a bad idea. (Especially given the letter she’d received upon arrival.) Better try and make things interesting for this Lady Pheme. Not that Hawke needs much help on that front. She’s got a knack for trouble. So she goes, and it turns out she DOES need assistance; assitance in finding something that’s appropriate to wear. The pink, feathered mask she’s handed is a bit garish next to the red-gold of her hair, but it doesn’t seem she has much option but to take it. The moment she’s able she nicks a glass of champagne from the nearest table. If she’s going to attend she’s going to be drinking.

She’s taken all but two steps before she’s suddenly stumbling. “Andraste’s tits!” And there she goes, RIGHT into someone and spilling her glass of champagne.


III. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES.
The longer Hawke’s here, the more the difference’s between Andovale and Kirkwall stand out to her. Sure, she’s not fond of the whole kidnapping thing, and Kirkwall is kind of home, even now, but there’s a spaciousness to Andovale, a brightness, that Kirkwall is… sorely lacking. There’s a great many other things, too. She’s wandering the market in what they call the Trade Quarter (and that reminds her of Kirkwall a little, parts of the town all sectioned out) when she sees them. Set out like fruit. She’s never seen apples that shade of gold before. Are they actually fruit? Or just baubles shaped like fruit. So she can’t help but wander closer, curious. They’re fruit, the woman minding the stall confirms, even offering her one to taste.

How can she refuse?

It’s maybe the best apple she’s ever tasted, and Hawke relishes every bite. But it’s not until a little later that she realises something’s changed. She feels… incredible. Like she could take on the Archdemon by herself. And WIN. It’s an amazing feeling. And should probably be a little more concerning than it is, currently.

There’s lightning under her skin, too, restless energy she can’t quite pin down. It makes her itch, though. And makes her more aware of… everything. Particularly people.


V. WILDCARD.
[Exactly what it says on the tin. Feel like doing something else? Or plotting a little something? You can message me at this journal, or catch me on plurk at ThriceWiddershins. Or just toss a start up. The world is our oyster!]

I

[purrrsona]

"You don't find it rather sudden, being neighbors? I quite liked have two districts and an ocean of refugees separating us."

He's joking, surely. His thoughts towards those who've fled the Blight are nothing short of compassionate. He has their best interest at heart. He wants to help them, truly, since it seems like those at the top aren't going to.

Since arriving, Anders has found himself in just as much of a whirlwind of confusion. His maid has the fiery personality of Isabela and is just as unhelpful, meaning it was like pulling teeth each time he'd ask what was going on, where he was, what this Thumos is all about, and so on.

From the looks of it, Hawke has faired a great deal better with her lot.

"Hawke, when exactly did we journey to an Orlesian Embassy?"

Gregory Edgeworth | Ace Attorney

[exposethetruth]

1: Arrival

True that he couldn't remember falling asleep, exactly, but he did know he'd been in the court house. Something had gone wrong - though exactly how wrong, he couldn't quite figure out. Wrong enough that he didn't exactly feel that going back was an option.

The idea of being assigned a butler, however, was reminiscent of... Well. It gave him another reason for a healthy dose of heartache.

This idea of Thumos - now, that was interesting. The idea of some sort of intimacy making everything operate... That would take some getting used to. After all, he was a widower. He'd not even considered being close to anyone with his son so young. Was this really what the Afterlife was going to be?

With that thought heavy on his mind, he followed his butler to the home he'd been assigned while keeping an eye on those surrounding him, to see if any of them were in a similar situation. He'd not been, after all, the only one to awaken in the glade, and he wasn't the only one on the streets. The setting said Europe to him, specifically a historical version of England. His own clothing, as court-appropriate as his suit had been, stood out in its own way. Hm. Perhaps that meant he'd have to play along at least enough to get properly dressed.

Once he arrived at the house, though, and was shown to his room, he decided that was a suitable enough place to hang his coat and hat and to securely place his briefcase - still full of some sensitive documents - somewhere secure. Though locations were limited, he still had it stowed before he left the room again to explore the house. There were questions that needed to be answered. Given the rather strict biases that were prevalent during this particular time in Europe's past, would he find the rest of the house to be populated by men or were things a bit less restrictive?

When he saw someone in one of the other rooms, he cleared his throat for a polite, "Pardon me?"

2: Masked Ball

Gregory had to admit that this was interesting. A bit of culture, he thought, that he would've enjoyed sharing not only with his son but that reminded him of some of the events he'd attended with his wife. Maybe even a bit of his wedding reception.

His butler had dressed him in a suit unlike any he'd voluntarily worn before but, all told, it wasn't horrible. His jacket and breeches were black, his waistcoat a patterned red brocade, and though he wasn't used to those knee breeches and stockings, at least he was far from the only person wearing them - and, despite himself, he thought he looked decent in them, even if his cowlick was stubbornly refusing to lay down.

On his way into the ball, he was given a mask to wear - and the pattern of diamonds was unsurprising to him. A harlequin mask, then. It would interfere with his glasses - or so he thought until he put the mask on. Oddly enough, the lady of this land seemed to take such things into account. While the mask was on, he didn't appear to need his glasses, but he hooked them into the hole usually used for a boutonniere to keep them handy. After all, keeping the mask on all night - he doubted he'd manage that. He'd probably slip away at least once or twice which would give him a chance to relax his face from the close contact of such a mask.

When he stepped into the ball, Gregory was unaware of how the mask displayed his thoughts - images of people in more modern clothing dancing in a softly lit room, mostly from his perspective. Most prominent, though, was a woman in a simple-seeming white dress, her hair a soft silvery colour though her face was young. Soon after that were the words, I wish my son could see this.

1

[astraythought]

Ducky is running her fingertips along the spines of the books in the house's small library. She's a tiny woman, no more than five feet and not wearing heels to disguise that fact. Dressed in dull greys, she might be mistaken for one of the assigned servants, except for the sharpness in her gaze that she quickly hides when hearing Gregory's voice.

"Yes, sir?"

Emmaline "Emmy Williams | Original Character

[aperiskepti]

I. WELCOME.
“What the hell?”

This isn’t Ashvale. She’s never seen this wisteria grove IN HER LIFE. And the strange women laughing and dancing around her is weirder still. There’s a… really handsome young man with a close-cropped dark beard and dressed in what looks like… a BUTLER’S OUTFIT? No, it’s definitely a butler’s outfit, and he starts to introduce himself. He doesn’t really get a chance to get very far because she’s shaking her head and absolutely noping the fuck out of there, the familiar shimmer of her teleportation washing over her body…

Only for her to be dropped unceremoniously right back down where she started. The damn wisteria grove. So she tries again. And the same thing happens.

It only takes one more time for her to resign herself to wherever it is she’s found herself at. And her butler, because apparently she HAS one, here, and isn’t that weird, leads her to where she’ll be staying. The amulet she’d found in her family’s old apothecary shop rests warmly against her chest, and she finds herself fiddling with it as she explores her new home. “I don’t know who’s going to be more pissed,” she says out loud to the room, not really paying attention to whether or not she’s actually alone. “Mom, or Ellie.”

And Toby. FUCK. Toby is going to break when he realises she’s gone. This is so BAD.


II. AN INVITATION: SILVER MASK
She’s in an Austen novel. She’s in a fucking Austen novel. And there’s apparently no escape. Her teleportation works in-world, but every time she tries to leave she ends up deposited right back at the wisteria grove. She never wants to see a wisteria tree ever again. (She’d only tried once more, a day or two after her arrival. Like maybe her magic had needed to adapt to whatever world she’d found herself in.)

She’s in an Austen novel and she gets an invitation to a ball. Emmy’s pretty sure she has to attend. She doesn’t want to, but she’s going to. Okay. It’s just a masquerade ball. She’s gone to those before. Sure, she was never dressed up like a Jane Austen adaptation reject before, but it’s close enough to home that she can pretend like she’s got a handle on everything.

They even give her a mask, an intricate silver thing with flowers and dangling chains. It’s pretty, and she puts it on before slipping inside. No one’s allowed inside without one, after all.

She wanders a bit, because it’s all A LOT and she’s never been in an Austen novel before so there’s a lot to take in. A lot to process. She doesn’t really notice, but her stomach is starting gnaw at itself. Maybe she should grab a little something to nibble on… She doesn’t, though, as delicious as it looks. She’s not sure she should.

“Really, darling, you ought to enjoy yourself a little,” Isaac murmurs, reaching out as though to brush a loose strand of blonde hair off her face but not quite touching her. Instead his fingers drift down to the amulet around her neck. “Have a drink.”

She doesn’t look at him. He can’t be here. He can’t. Out of everyone in her family… he can’t be here. (Her feelings are so COMPLICATED about him. She grew up being told that he was the reason why their family stayed in Ashvale. That he’d done such terrible, awful things that no witch should ever do. But he’d lost his wife. She’d been murdered almost right in front of him. And everything he’d done he’d done out of love. Surely that meant he wasn’t irredeemable? He could come back from it, from everything.)

Despite herself, she’s reaching out and grabbing a glass of what she’s assuming is wine, or maybe champagne or something equally fancy. She grabs it and she downs it quickly. Her second glass she just… holds, her fingers tight around the glass.


WILDCARD.
[Exactly what it says on the tin. Feel like doing something else? Or plotting a little something? You can message me at this journal, or catch me on plurk at ThriceWiddershins. Or just toss a start up. The world is our oyster!]

I.

[aquilasshadow]

Her musings were suddenly interrupted when someone was thrown out of her shadow. The young man crashed to the ground with a muttered curse that sounded similar to Arabic. Emma wasn't the only one having problems with her powers.

germaine dupont | original | ota

[1stpersonsingular]

ARRIVAL – DRAWING ROOMS
__________

[ The drawing room is not quite in style with what she herself is used to, surely they have them at the château back home, but the décor is different from this, as if an era has faded to nothing in between the two rooms. Germaine walks slowly straight through the middle of the living area, having dismissed her butler with a sternness that surely doesn’t befit the very pleasant man. As with everything since her arrival, he took it in good humour.

Close to the windows, truly the worst positioning of an instrument that one could imagine, in direct sunlight, a small fortepiano stands, lid up, as if inviting your fingers to touch the delicate keys. For a long moment, she stands next to it, simply looking it over. She is trained in playing, of course, but never took a shine to it. My daughter sold her soul to books first, her father used to say to the exasperated piano tutor.

Her father spoke many truths. Now, she must speak them for him. First, however, she sits down at the piano and rights her posture, spreading her fingers out over the keys. Then, she begins playing Fanny Mendelssohn’s September, her technique passable but her interpretation somewhat flat and hard. ]



MASKED BALL – HARLEQUIN
__________

[ I DETEST MY CORSET, it says across her mask, unbeknownst to her, while Germaine is standing off to the side, her dance card still stubbornly blank and her salmon gown only slightly less loathed by her than what she is wearing underneath it. It was a kind suggestion from her butler who thought anything in a darker shade of red would make her look “unapproachable”.

BY GOD, LET ME BE JUST UNAPPROACHABLE ENOUGH, she thinks, the mask displaying every word. Someone, save her. ]



APPLES – DISCORD
__________

[ She could’ve told herself not to eat a golden apple, nothing even just metal-reminiscent belongs in your mouth, but it had tasted wonderful and been the first truly delightful thing to happen while she’s been here.

The first time after, when she stumbled over her own two feet and landed backside-first in a puddle, she had ascribed it a moment’s clumsiness, a trait she isn’t otherwise prone to, but the second time when a man had dropped a wooden box full of fish right in front of her, making her stumble and fall in a pile of herring, she had truly questioned herself. After a change of clothes, with the help of her loyal butler – or, naturally, in the case of actually getting her dressed, at the hands of a soft-spoken maid, Germaine is back on the streets and feeling slightly apprehensive.

With good reason. Fifty metres down the street, a woman in the apartments above empties a vase out the window, a couple of withering roses and a whole lot of water getting dumped down over the head of Germaine and whoever’s unfortunate enough to be close enough. ]



WILDCARD – NETWORK
__________

un: GERMANA

Seeing as I once more find myself unoccupied, I’m curious as to whether someone with more skill out in the piano than I possess would be willing to give me lessons. I’m an intermediate student; certainly, I can play “Für Elise”, but never well enough.

To those with even less skill in piano-playing than me, do recommend pastimes that are not in any way associated with needles. Thank you.



[ ooc; info about character in journal. pm or hmu on plurk, thewriteway, if you want to discuss anything in relation to playing any of these scenarios. ]

Masked Ball

[astraythought]

[It is unfortunate that Ducky, in the silver cat mask she's wearing, has picked up the contrary nature of a cat. You know how it is, where a cat will beeline for the person who's allergic to them, or who doesn't want fur on their black clothing. Thus, Ducky heads directly for Germaine with a smile she doesn't bother to hide.]

You seem unhappy to be here.

Zoey Westen | Original Character (CRAU)

[pythianwoman]

[She’s a seer. A detailed inventory of those powers is here, but basically she can see the past, present, and future in a variety of ways, as well as sense thoughts but in such a way that she believes it’s just a part of her seer gift rather than any sort of telepathy. Let me know what she can pick up on from your character!]

I. WELCOME
Not again. She’d thought her days galivanting about the multiverse were over. Her memories of all the various worlds are… muddled, tangled. It’s difficult to tell which came when. Not that it much mattered, anymore. After the seventh or eighth world you start to lose track, anyway. And count. (She’s pretty sure it was seven? Although there was one world she’d ended up in twice, and she’s not sure if that counts as one or two.)

With a soft sigh, she rises gracefully off the grass she’d found herself lying on, watching the nymphs dance and laugh for a moment. (She knows what they are the moment she sets eyes on them. And if nothing else, travelling through the multiverse has done wonders to make her feel less alone.)

The butler is… unexpected. And weirdly warm and kind. Which sets her on edge as part of her struggles to resist it. But she lets him lead her to wherever it is she’s supposed to be. After all, she has no idea where the fuck she is or what she’s doing here. So she might as well follow along and learn more.

Learning that she’s in an Austen novel isn’t completely unexpected. She is what she is, after all. But it’s still… INCREDIBLY odd to see for herself. At least it’s in fashion to wear gloves. Which will help with her gift.

Reading the note given to her contains a few notable things. First of all, Zoey is a scholar of mythology, and she knows the name Pheme right off the fucking bat.

Second of all: ‘I do hope that you make your stay here a most interesting one. I shall be frightfully disappointed if you do not - and we do not want that, do we?’ That is, absolutely and without a doubt, a threat. If they’re not interesting enough Lady Pheme will MAKE them interesting. Or make things interesting to make them more interesting. Or some annoying combination of the two.

Either way, it’s going to be a hell of a time. “I’m pretty sure she took the saying ‘may you live in interesting times’ a little too much to heart,” she says aloud, more amused than she should be, probably.


II. AN INVITATION: GOLD MASK
Of course there’s a ball. There’s always a ball when it comes to the Regency era. She’d rather spend her time in the parlour library, or in the Academic Quarter, but with the blatant fucking threat from a GODDESS, she’s pretty sure not attending is a very bad idea. And while she has no problem mouthing off to a goddess, she should probably at least pretend like she’s not an irreverent rebel and troublemaker to start off.

Her butler, despite her best efforts, insists on helping her find something appropriate for such festivities, and she has to admit, the dark blue dress with gold detailing looks GOOD on her, and makes her ice blue eyes pop. So at least she’s dressed to impress. Before she’s able to enter she’s given a stunning gold filigree mask and away she goes.

The first time someone brushes against her and it makes her feel as though her knees will give way, an unsteady, shuddering breath slipping from between her lips at the sudden rush of ecstasy, Zoey knows. She KNOWS. The Fae had a tendency to do shit like that, too. Breathless, she puts a little distance between her and… everyone else.

“This is going to make it awfully difficult to dance with all the people this place is insisting on filling up my dance card with,” she mutters under her breath. She’ll just have to… make do, probably.


III. EXPLORATION.
Zoey wastes NO TIME in learning every inch of Andovale. The Academic Quarter is by far her favourite, and she sits in on every class she can that strikes her fancy. Especially the ones on literature, history, and mythology. There are others; after all, in her travels she’s come into a wealth of abilities and learning more about related skills can’t fucking hurt. She’s always been most interested in history, though. Stories.

The scandalised looks she gets are amusing as all hell, and she can’t help but smile cheekily at everyone who disapproves. (And watching their disapproval intensify only amuses her more.)

The moment she sets foot in The Gorgon’s head something runs in a shiver down her spine. A little prickling of knowledge and danger. “Note to self, don’t get involved in a bar fight here,” she murmurs. “I don’t think it would be good for anyone’s health.” The beer is fucking fantastic, though. So as long as she treads carefully, it’s worth the risk.

She can be found in the coffeehouse, too, living on coffee and tea, just sitting and watching.

She likes the Naval Quarter a LOT. It’s beautiful, and if only escaping on the ships was a possibility. At least there’s beaches and the coastal path to wander. The Trident is her favourite pub in the city; the booze is strong, and it’s BOISTEROUS. It’s fun. She might even start a drinking game or a game of darts (or throwing knives) if she’s in the mood.


WILDCARD.
[Exactly what it says on the tin. Feel like doing something else? Or plotting a little something? You can message me at this journal, or catch me on plurk at ThriceWiddershins. Or just toss a start up. The world is our oyster!]

Exploration!

[thegreatexperiment]

Sam was never a fan of coffee, but coffee shops? Yeah, those were a fucking savior to her sanity after her Embrace. Open late hours? Local artists on display? Free wi-fi? Yes, fucking, please. It kept some of her angrier thoughts at bay and definitely improved her disposition--prickly though it always was--when she had to sit in on some bullshit vampire meeting or other.

This one was...well. It was different. But in the end, they were kind of all the same. And the scent of coffee eased her somewhat frayed and exposed nerves.

Although it didn't help that everyone seemed to feel the need to stop and stare when she walked in. Probably the hair. It was easier in LA, where the blue wig just made her feel sort of invisible. With all of this...Victorian?...shit, she was always the center of attention for a few solid minutes, before everyone got bored when she didn't do circus acts or something.

So when the attention faded, she relaxed again, scanning the room, looking for someone who didn't seem quite as comfortable with the involuntary cosplay.

Essek Thelyss || Critical Role || OTA

[dunamagic]

I. Parlour

[Last thing he remembers is the cold wind biting at his cheek, the soft ruff of his white furred cloak, and what felt like the start of Jester's voice in his head. The last one he dismisses as hopeful wishing of a paranoid mind as he cannot remember any words -- and she would not leave a sending spell without every word used. But when he wakes to the rustle of trees and the lightly warmed spring breeze, he instantly knows he is not where he is supposed to be.

Did he teleport? Plane shift by accident? The magics of Eiselcross are wild and unpredictable, he's ever been cautious in testing those limits, but opening his eyes to Wisteria trees and fey creatures -- yes, his mind is instantly a whirl of paranoia and considerations, trying to piece together the missing time and potential things that could have led to this. His eyes dart every which way in fear, looking for threats.

The servant gets him to calm enough to follow - he's not sure how, there is something unnaturally compelling about them so he casts dispelling magics and nothing changes. Wherever he is, this Andovale, they did not think to disarm him of his spellbook or casting components. The servant seems willing to speak and answer questions, so they talk in as much depth as he can wrench from them -- what he learns is disquieting.

The letter doesn't help.

After being helped out of his winter clothing, he is fitted into a black shirt, a purple waistcoat, and black trousers with boots to match. Floating, not walking, Essek explores the immediate area of his room and surroundings of the living space, soon finding himself in the Parlour where he is quick to start tracing his fingers along the spines of books and plucking what ones he wishes to delve into for information.

His mind is a whirl of information and trying to piece together where he is and how it happened that he doesn't even notice the other person in the room at first.]

Ah, pardon me. [His smile is polite and enigmatic.]


II. Masquerade

[The invitation and evening come soon enough, his servant helps him get ready in a dress of black velvet and golden silks that pop against his lavender skin, a fine choker of gold and diamonds sits on his neck. The pearl at the bodice is almost like a moon against his white freckled skin - more skin than he's shown publicly in many decades. It would be a lie to say he doesn't feel exposed and vulnerable, but the dress allows him to float easily.

The unease he feels is masked perfectly with an enigmatic smile and an air of confidence - he was perfectly sculpted for courts and politics, he was not the Shadowhand for his talent alone. The mask of gold that perfectly matches his outfit rests on his face, his eyes like amethysts in contrast.

After his inadvertently erotic dance with Caleb though, he finds himself trying to trade his mask away while trying to give off a very strong personal bubble to keep people from touching him.]

Excuse me, might you entertain a game with me?


III. WILDCARD!

((Feel free to hit me with apple prompts, dancing prompts, Network posts, I am down for anything! If you want to chat and plot first, you can DM me or add me ZodiacRockStar))

II

[astraythought]

Ducky's cat mask is silver, to go with her dove-gray dress. Her curls have begun to escape their pins, with the antics she's engaged in tonight, and there's a satisfied smile on her face.

"A game? I might be interested...or I might not."

Cats. Never too direct with their intentions, but if the lady had a tail, it'd be doing that little flick cats do when they're engaged or intrigued, like when one is watching a fish pond and scheming how to eat your prized koi.