allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

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TEST DRIVE MEME!

TEST DRIVE MEME

While in some alternate, tidier timeline, the War against the Elder One ended years ago, you're not in that timeline. It's 9:46, and there's a war raging in northern Orlais, where the Chantry, aided by the Inquisition, marshalling Orlais and the faithful of Southern Thedas into a new Exalted March against the army of demon-bound Wardens, Red Templars, Venatori loyalists, and darkspawn Corypheus has amassed over the last four years. Rifts are still scattered across the continent, periodically spitting out strangers from strange worlds with green-glowing anchors embedded in their hands. There's no Herald of Andraste to save Thedas. Someone else is going to have to do it.

You're part of (or allied with, recently hired by, imprisoned by, etc.) a new organization that's an offshoot of the Inquisition, dubbed Riftwatch, that consists mainly of the otherworldly new arrivals, rebels and Wardens, and other people who want to prevent the apocalypse without necessarily marching under the Chantry's banner to do it. Their headquarters is an island fortress called the Gallows—formerly a Circle of Magi, more formerly a prison for slaves, but its new occupants have done a good job removing the more grotesque reminders of that past and making the place livable.

Maybe you're here because you want to help. Maybe you need the money (though there isn't much of it). Maybe you acquired an anchor and sticking around is the only way to prevent your hand from falling off. Maybe you've been sent by the Chantry or some other entity to keep an eye on everyone—they're rumored to be a lot of weirdos and troublemakers. Or maybe you're a new rifter and just going where the nice people with swords tell you that you need to go.

OOC: We post Test Drives fairly infrequently! But current players are strongly encouraged to track new top-level comments to the post so they don't miss new arrivals, and new folks should not be shy about commenting just because the post has been up for a while.

I. KIRKWALL: Even when enormous evil darkspawn are trying to take over the known world and you and your colleagues might be the only ones who can truly stop him, you can't work all the time. And when you aren't working, Kirkwall is there for you, with its dingy Lowtown taverns, its flashy Hightown establishments, its market stalls and street musicians and underground network of old mining tunnels inhabited by the disenfranchised and a few violent criminals. Or maybe you can work all the time, and you're in the city to do some official shopping, keep an eye on a suspicious character, or show a potential financial backer a good time. The city is grey, cold, and in places vaguely sinister—but it's home.

II. SUNDERMOUNT: North of Kirkwall lies the highest peak of the nearby mountain range. In more ancient days it was rumored to be the site of unspeakable horrors, but at present prowled by more speakable horrors, like possessed skeletons, shadow warriors, and the rare revenant or varterral. And you've been sent to prowl along with them, inside the winding caves that cut through the peak or over the snow currently coating the paths that wind around it. The reasons vary: maybe you're in search of medicinal herbs, maybe you're tracking a party of suspicious travelers lurking outside Kirkwall, or maybe you just took a wrong turn off the road trying to travel in or out of the city.

III. ORLAIS: Further south, Orlais is weathering the winter and the invasion of its northern territories in its usual style—which is why you're here, in a snow-blanketed manor just outside Val Royeaux, representing Riftwatch at the invitation of a gathering of masked nobility who have gathered to discuss ways to support the war effort while not starving their serfs and alienages. And to play parlor games. Maybe have an occasional chamber concert. Your role may be to actively participate in the planning, or it may be to be charming and noncommital while observing, or it may be to provide an example of a well-behaved rifter/elf/mage/Qunari/Fereldan. Regardless: your best behavior is expected, but that doesn't mean you can't sneak into the Duchess' very well-appointed library at night or slip away to try sliding down the length of a frozen reflecting pool in the gardens.

IV. THE FRONT: Riftwatch is no longer part of the Inquisition or directly engaged in the war that it, the Chantry's faithful Exalted Marchers, and Orlais are fighting against an invading Tevinter and Ander force in northern Orlais. But frequently enough, Riftwatch's business—delivering helpful intelligence, spending quality time with prisoners of war that might have information, assisting soldiers with a rift they've found too close to their camps, or passing through on the way somewhere else—requires passing near or through the frontline drawn through northern Orlais and now northern Nevarra, where it's possible to encounter enemy bands of dracolisk-mounted soldiers, fire-throwing mages, or particularly nasty darkspawn with red lyrium growing from their bodies.

V. SEND A MESSAGE: Each member of Riftwatch (or rifter, or ally) is assigned a blue crystal, small enough to wear around the neck, that can transmit voice messages, as well as an enchanted book tied to that crystal that can be used to exchange written messages. They're secure enough to discuss the war, if you'd like to get down to business, but loosely controlled enough to ask a question or play a game with only a few rolled eyes from people who hate fun.

VI. WILDCARD: From the Gallows' library to the pirate islands off the coast, from Hightown's high-priced market stalls to the bloody frontlines of the war, Thedas is yours to explore.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Ellie's own smile only widens -- she has a feeling she's really going to like this girl. Anybody who smiles like that at the thought of trouble has generally been good in her book.]

Oh-ho-hoh. Proper experiments. Of course.

[She affects a "fancy" voice, some mangled version of the Fereldan accent. It's not Great, but it's ridiculous enough that she's almost laughing through it.]

... oh, hell. Got away with?

[Ellie has to cast her thoughts back, rolling her eyes upward. And typical of her, she chooses something she remembers, but sounds... questionable. To everyone else.]

So, the same day I met my best friend, I was thirteen. And I caught her sneaking out of our school at night.

[Ellie pushes forward, as they find their stride on the ice, start sliding with a little more purpose. Talking helps.]

I kinda blackmailed her into letting me come with. She had a radio so we could listen in on the military movements in the city, and got wind of a skirmish going on a few streets over. Maybe a dozen soldiers had some of the Fireflies -- some rebels -- pinned down. We threw some smoke bombs in. They shot at us, but we ran like hell, and so did the Fireflies. We actually got away with it.

[As far as the military went, anyway.]

[ the story starts out relatively normally, and then devolves rather quickly from there. Margaery's brows furrow from the mention of a radio and then forget about that confusion for the sake of the content. ]

If I'm understanding this correctly,

[ spoken slowly, ]

You and this person who became your best friend stood up to the military and helped some rebels escape?

[ at thirteen, her mind helpfully supplies. the slip-and-slide quality of the ice is temporarily forgotten as Margaery skids to a stop in front of Ellie, taking her other hand. she doesn't ask what she most desperately wants to - what in seven hells was your world like? - and instead, smiles. ]

It seems as though I'm skating with someone who's braver than they initially let on. Maybe I should let you do all the talking if we're caught?

Mmmh- yep, pretty much.

[Ellie tries to sound casual about it. It's far cooler to describe in hindsight, and privately, she's a bit glad that Margaery both isn't calling bullshit and isn't horrified at her antics.

Instead, she smiles, and Ellie smiles back, unable to help herself. She's made of tougher stuff than she thought, and it's surprising. The good kind of surprising.]

Maybe. Or maybe we should concentrate on not getting caught.

[Ellie's smile sharpens, and as Margaery takes her other hand, she feels a flutter of unease up in her throat. Because while her right hand is whole, and that's the one Margaery's been holding, her left one is wrapped across the palm to hide the anchor.

It's also missing the two smallest fingers.]

Thankfully, I'm good at that part.

[ she definitely notices the difference in holding both of Ellie's hands, but it's simply a factoid delicately slipped into her memory as she observes the slight change in her companion's smile. ]

You know, I was expecting something more like a scandalous rendezvous story.

[ when the other party is clearly experiencing a bout of self-conscious, turn the subject back towards yourself and keep it going to help them feel at ease. Margaery lets go of Ellie's hand so they can keep progressing. ]

But I find my own tales a bit too tame in comparison now, so shall we say that next time we exchange stories, I go first? That way, I still get my chance to shine.

[ it's obvious she's teasing, but Margaery goes the extra mile and gently bumps against Ellie as if to make her fall - even as her hold on her hand tightens simultaneously. ]

[Margaery's kind, and they way she tacked that together was practically seamless. Ellie can almost pretend she didn't notice. It's nice, but it trips her up- until she makes her laugh again. A little snort, but she drops her hand to hold just the one.]

Psh, nah. Nothing exciting to report there.

[Ellie casts her a grin back, nodding an agreement, though she ends up almost slipping, she regains her feet with another sputtered laugh.]

You make it sound like you've got some really juicy stuff, though. Some kinda secret romance?

[Shut up, Ellie.]

Juicy stuff, maybe. [ that had been a fun phrase to learn. she gives Ellie a small, meaningful smile when she continues - ] But romance, no.

[ considering Ellie had been nice enough to share the night she met her best friend, it would only be polite to return the favor, wouldn't it? ]

It was critical that I keep my maidenhead intact until I got married. Of course, arduous activities I loved doing like horseback riding and sailing and hawking made it possible for me to have torn it without any sexual intimacy, so I had that to protect me even when I was checked.

But the irony is how men expect you to stay pure, but to also know how to please when the time comes. My family - [ she pauses, although she frames it as restarting her sentence ] - I'm lucky to have been born in a family that was much more forward-thinking than most. And encouraging, when it came to discovering my sexuality.

[ she squeezes Ellie's hand, expression back to a playful smirk. ]

So yes. Lots of sordid activities. Sometimes my brother and I even competed for the attention of the same man, simply for the fun of it.

[Ellie listens with a mix of confusion, disbelief, a slight bit of disgust (in the customs, not in Margaery), and the mad urge to laugh.]

That sounds so fucking ridiculous. Having to watch over your shoulder all the time.

[Sorry, Marg. Harsh. But about the news of her brother, Ellie can't help but grin a little wider, squeezing her hand back -- and poor Ellie, she doesn't. Pick up on the fact that that might've been a hint.]

Okay, so tell me about that. Who'd win, you or your brother?

Doesn't sound so different from your world when you put it that way though.

[ her tone is gentle, words delivered with an equally soft smile that belies the depth of her understanding underneath the humor. ]

Well. It would depend.

[ a pause for dramatic effect. ]

If the man had good taste, I'd win.

[ laughter's bubbling up even before she's finished saying the last word, the chill of the night kept at bay as amusement and company warm her up all over, enough for her to swing their hands gently as her feet acclimate to the surface. ]

I suppose it's a good thing that my brother wasn't into women as well.

There's a point.

[A really good one, actually. Suppose there's something to be said for trading physical safety for- well, that might not even be true. Ellie lets their hands swing between them, as that respect blooms into something bigger.

There's a lot of ways to be a survivor, seems like.

Ellie flashes another smile.]

Glad you came from a place where they didn't care about that shit.

[... or so she assumes.]

[ she opens her mouth to let Ellie know that definitely wasn't the case, but there's been a steady pressure in her chest, almost as if a fist is slowly tightening its grip around her heart, and Margaery knows she's at her limit for speaking evenly about her brother.

so instead - ]

I'm assuming... they cared where you're from?

Some people did.

[Ellie catches the gap, the way something flares up behind Margaery's everything. She plays her cards close to her chest, puts forth a smile rather than anything gruff and offputting, and Ellie's known enough people with baggage to know that little pause. They're getting close to something that hurts.]

Not the people that mattered, though.

[ Ellie has a way with words that Margaery can't help but admire; there's no glossy finesse, no courtly airs, but a poetic simplicity, one that's ridiculously effective at reminding Margaery where she is now. ]

And did you have the privilege of having a lot of people who mattered?

[ she winces slightly at the implications her past-tense brings, feeling the question remains heavy-handed no matter how gently she asks it. ]

[It's a stinging question, one well-meant. Ellie knows enough to know that it comes from a place of understanding.

It makes her think better of Margaery, in a way. To be able to talk about people in the past tense, to have the courage to ask. She used to think that it was stronger to keep one's silence -- things happen, and we move on -- but now she knows better.]

A few.

[Ellie says it very quietly. She doesn't usually count herself among to strong ones, but the thought leaves a lump in her throat.

She'd be lucky to have you.

Pausing, Ellie squeezes Margaery's hand again, to reassure her that she didn't cut too deep, push too hard. That it's okay.]

I mean, I thought- that they might care. I wasted a lot of time worrying that they would. Kinda stupid.

[ the squeeze is welcome, and if Ellie glances towards her way, she'll see a steady stream of breath being exhaled from her lips - the silent but telltale indicator for relief. ]

It's not stupid.

[ she's never once forgotten the privilege that her brother had in being born a Tyrell, one that so many others would've never been able to dream of. and she's never forgotten that she once sat next to a deranged king and told him that he had every right to consider death as a suitable punishment for such a perversion. there's an almost disdainful sorrow in her heart to know that such backward sentiments are echoed in other worlds. ]

It just means that they were that important to you.

[ it's her turn to squeeze Ellie's hand, well-timed with the curved edge of the pond. ]

All my important people never cared, either. But that's the irony of things, I suppose. We were so accepting in our own corner that we never realized it might one day be our undoing - a weapon held against us by our enemies.

[It's Ellie's turn to appreciate the simple way Margaery has of putting things in perspective, in validating and making people feel at ease. It makes things she agonized over seem so simple.

Ellie follows her silently, taking the slow turn around the edge of the water, careful now of where they put their feet. Most of the clumsiness has gone out of them, but all it takes is one slip, one misstep, and they'll go from pleasant conversation to biting it on the ice.

Seems like it's not the first time Margaery's been aware of precarious footing.]

... shit.

That sounds awful. What'd you do?

[ there's still music that flutters out towards their hearing range, cheerful and light and somehow the perfect backdrop for this somber environment they've managed to create for themselves. ice skating has effectively kept the cold at bay, except now Margaery finds herself running almost warm from - she's not quite sure what.

the whole story would be too much. Ellie doesn't deserve the torture of having to skate through it all. ]

My brother was open about his affections for other men. For a while, even with an intolerant atmosphere, we were able to coast through with it being the worst kept secret.

[ anger, she realizes distantly. it's anger that's making her so warm. Cersei's smug face shutters across her mind's eye, along with a ghostly ripple of how it had felt to be so helpless. ]

But I got careless. I angered my enemy to the point where she enabled religious fanatics to take over the kingdom. They took my brother, and me, on account of his perversion, and my knowledge about it. We were imprisoned.

[Ellie listens, and doesn't realize just how tightly she's holding Margaery's hand. Having spent so long out of human societies, it always floors her, the kinds of fucking things that happen when enough people are given enough power.]

Fuck.

[She just barely breathes it. But she can't imagine that things ended happily, not from there.]

Your enemy?

My enemy.

[ her smiles have always been the hardest to contain when they're full of rage and it rings true now. ]

A queen regent who knew her fall from power would be fully secured if I managed to fully influence her son, the king. And I was close. [ she says the last sentence looking at Ellie, tone almost passing for defensive if it weren't for the resigned bitterness that follows. ] But I should have known better. My mistake cost us too much.

[ how does someone move on from the biggest regret of her life when she's never had to deal with regret before? ironically, Ellie's grip works as an effective anchor for her emotions, at least until the heat begins to reside and the cold settles in once more. ]

It... is difficult, when you've lived your entire life avoiding mistakes, to wind up somewhere that won't afford you closure. Sometimes I think death might have been sweeter.

[There's sharp steel under the velvet, and Ellie likes her all the more for it, though it probably should put her off. Instead her eyes are bright with interest, drinking in those details, and the pain under them.

Ellie's hand tightens a bit on hers, letting several beats of silence stretch out.]

You still might go back. Find out how it all ends.

[ there's more pain for Ellie to see clearly when Margaery looks at her again, feet slowing to a stop as her heartbeat suddenly thuds in her ears. is she smiling? she might be. she's suddenly lost, almost as if her soul has momentarily departed her body and needs a second to settle back and regain control again.

when the long spell passes, she realizes she's been staring and quickly averts her eyes. a deep breath or two later, she swallows and shakes her head minutely. ]

I'm afraid that's not possible.

[ she is smiling, but she can't stop, just as she can't stop the burn of tears lining her eyes. ]

The last thing I recall before I was pulled into the rift was. [ her breathing grows shallow, and she grips Ellie's hand just as she held Loras in that moment, trembling uncontrollably. ] The heat of wildfire. The ground splitting open, as if it were a great beast opening its mouth to swallow us whole.

[ her tears carve delicate paths through the chill on her cheeks, before they grow even colder. ]

It's already ended, for me.

[It's something Ellie recognizes instantly -- mainly because she's been through it herself, so many times. It looks different on Margaery. There's no screaming, no violence, no lashing out blindly until the hands come off of her.

She goes still with her, pausing, and responds to the way Margaery desperately clutches at her hand, like she's an anchor in some kind of invisible storm.

So Ellie takes her hand and uses it to pull her in close to her body, reaching out to wrap her other arm around her waist, and ease her down.

They sit, right there on the ice, and Ellie holds her to her body. She smells faintly of sweat and leather and horse.]

[ distantly, she thinks it's a bit unfortunate that an embrace only seems to make her shake harder, the tremors growing stronger and stronger until her hands, her chest, every part of her is beyond her control. but Margaery doesn't push away, nor does she try to stop the ugly, unrecognizable sounds that break free from her throat, horrendous in how pitiful they are.

she's never broken before. not in the face of starvation or dehydration or imprisonment. not in the face of blatant disrespect and the unfairness of it all. but then, in those times, she knew someone was still watching - simply waiting for her to lose. here, no one watches. no one cares about yet another rifter.

so Margaery cries. her tears soak through Ellie's shirt in mere seconds from the force of her sobs, but the thought of apology doesn't come until much, much later. long after her cries have quietened naturally, toxic anguish expelled from her lungs. the grief is still present, but lighter. bearable. ]

I'm sorry, Ellie. So sorry.

[ her voice is soft, raw. her face remains hidden even as her sense of dignity has already fled. ]

[Grief is universal. Unfairness, loss. Delayed expression of fear and trauma. Ellie knows it intimately, and she doesn't waver in the way she holds on tight, isn't flustered by the tears or the anguish. Once upon a time she might've been, but now she knows what strength it takes to let yourself cry.

She knows this, and what it is to wrestle with the pain. It doesn't matter that they don't know each other well; she knows this. So she lets Margaery cry it out, holding on as long as she needs it. The sounds of the music and distant laughter inside mingle with the sounds of Margaery's sobs, and it seems fitting somehow, even if that thought's a little bit fucked up.

It's all a little bit fucked up.

Ellie strokes her hair, the way Dina used to do for her, and hopefully doesn't mess it up too badly.]

S'okay.

[Her voice is barely above a whisper.]

You've been holding onto that shit since you got here, huh?

[ the question earns Ellie a watery chuckle, as Margaery grapples with wanting to wrap up her breakdown as soon as possible versus letting it all out so this never happens again. meeting someone for the first time and bawling in their arms while melodic songs play in the background is something her grandmother would roll her eyes at - and yet. something tells her that Olenna would give her this small allowance, just once. ]

Death would be easier than memory.

[ she speaks again when her breathing has somewhat evened out, only punctured by sobs every few seconds or so. and while she doesn't allow herself to stay melted in Ellie's embrace, she stays close. ]

I feel as though I have been condemned to carry grief three times over; the knowledge that I lost, the family I could not save, and my grandmother - left with no legacy after all we've fought for.

[ after the storm, her eyes are clear. sharp. reddened but no longer glossy with unshed pain. in contrast, Ellie's eyes appear almost soulful compared to her own. ]

Should I have sought to kill my enemy when I had the chance?

[It would be kind fucking hypocritical to argue, so Ellie doesn't. Because sometimes things just suck so bad you can't do anything but hurt and wish you weren't breathing, and get through it until it passes like a storm.

Sometimes it sticks around for a while, though, and she gets the feeling this will, even if the crying will calm.]

... I dunno.

[It's a fucked up thing to admit, but. She has to. Ellie breathes out, weighing her words.]

I did. And it didn't change much.

TEST DRIVE MEME!

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cw: death, panic attack, shitty got writing compliance >:(

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i think we can wrap this one up? c:

yes!!