Test Drive #6

[powersthatbe]

Welcome to the Synodiporia Test Drive Meme! Below the cuts there are three new prompts, and here are the prompts from previous test-drives, which you’re still welcome to use in this post. When you comment, be sure you specify what prompt you want to play with, and please put up your own threadstarter - it makes for a much more friendly environment that a forest of bare toplevels! OCs are especially welcome!

Our upcoming app round runs January 1st-7th, after which we’ll have a Victorian Cosmic Horror Jaunt - the madness of the Cthulhu Mythos in rural 1800s England. With that in mind, here are some darker prompts, to catch the feel of how your characters react in troubling times...

Prompt #20 is a flashback to the Cursed Kingdom jaunt, where werewolves hunted, deadly magical creatures roamed, and magical curses and traps struck without warning. Feel free to play an investigator, a werewolf, or simply a citizen of the magical kingdom who’s become unfortunately lost...

Prompt #21 is a glimpse of a Jaunt, either far in the past or sometime in the future. In the mining village of Enterrado, a gang has taken control of the flow of silver into and out of town, and the only folks with the hope of running them out are a vengeful band of vigilantes and outlaws. With half the Travelers brainwashed into believing they belong to one gang or another, friends are ready to kill friends, and it doesn’t seem like the few sane folks remaining can stop the bloodshed...

Prompt #22 is set in Liminal Space, during a time of instability, where buildings are collapsing and re-forming, and the worst fears or greatest desires of Travelers are appearing (and vanishing again) like all-too-solid mirages. What would your character imagine, and what kind of threat would it present… ?


Prompt #20: Dark Forest
The trees are too thick to let in any hint of sunlight, if there is any, but more likely the world is just as dark everywhere else by now. Tendrils of mist wind between the trees - most of them harmless, but every now and then one will latch onto a passerby like a leech and begin to turn pink as it drains blood. In the open hollows between the trees, shallow puddles of brackish green water contain hidden sinkholes, or startling arcane visions of the dead. Slowly, snakelike, briars grow and slither like a cage from tree to tree, enclosing anyone too slow and cautious in a pointed hedge-maze. And somewhere nearby, a wolf howls...



Prompt #21: Wild West
They've taken to calling the tavern at the end of the street the Bastille. Its windows have been shot out and barricaded, and some of the tables inside have been upturned for cover. But still, despite the tension, people come in to drink. For all that the miners and the vigilantes have exchanged fire in the streets, and three men have been shot dead in this very saloon in the last day, it's the closest thing left to neutral territory. Desperate bargains and parleys are discussed, struck, and abandoned. Drinks are downed in quantity, and it's almost true that nobody gives a damn any more who's cheating at poker. If you're looking for an old friend, or one of the mad strangers from out of town, or even for someone to draw down on, you won't get better terms anywhere else than you will in the Bastille. Come for the whiskey, stay for the knife-fights.



Prompt #22: Chaos Given Shape
Liminal Space bends and drips like a Dali painting, one landscape sagging into another, buildings settling, leaking water or dirt from whatever alien environment is above them; walls collapsing only to reveal something new on the other side, like a caterpillar molting into a butterfly. Calm meditation and focus by Travelers seems to stabilize the environment briefly, but if one person exerts too much mental influence, the surroundings begin to resemble the territory inside their heads. Old fears and nightmares, lost loves, desperate desires all form out of the fluidic landscape - and that's enough to break almost anyone's calm. But two people, working together, can sometimes strike a safe equilibrium...

Comments

#22

[wantedittobeagame]

Adachi was struggling to keep his footing as the ground as his feet sagged, trying not to panic at the same time. This was bad... this was really bad; he didn't know what made the Liminal Space freak out like this, but it couldn't have been anything that would be good for his health. He had to duck aside as the wall of a building behind him (that did not mesh at all with the ground on his feet) came crashing down toward him.

To make things even worse, as the dust settled, he could hear a faint, girlish laughter, and caught sight of something grey disappearing around the remains of the building. He reached up to rub at his eyes, refusing to believe that was real; it couldn't be, she was dead and needed to stop haunting him.

But...

"...dammit," he growled under his breath, fumbling up the melting ground to try and follow that glimpse of grey.

[purseownerisme]

She was unsure of what this kind of space was. Always cryptic and yet showing a clue as to where they would be heading next. If it's one thing Yua appreciated at that moment was the fact that it was quiet and calming. No need to try and brain about the male version and his Naoto or feel that god awful loneliness.

But perhaps...those thoughts were starting to blend into the landscape itself. And she was unaware of the man coming her way.

[capital_punishment]

Well, there was a face he hadn't seen in a while. "Yo."

[shiroganeheir]

This was not good. Naoto was certain of that. From the first moment, she'd summoned Yamato Takeru, who was flying ahead of her, slashing debris grumpily with his sword.

When she sees the other figure, she pauses, hand on the top of her gun for a moment, just watching.

[fridgeninja]

"Look out!" Souji shouts, and after a moment he's skidding in front of the other man, somewhere between a jump and a disco slide, as the ceiling over his previous position collapses. When he sees who he's warned, he freezes, starting back up to his feet while one hand moves to the katana sheathed over his shoulder.

"Another illusion?" he asks out loud, almost, but not quite, rhetorically.

Wedge Antilles | Star Wars (Legends) | Prompt #21

[sfoils]

[ This is the seedy sort of tavern where a Corellian should feel at home. Someone like Han Solo would've already cleaned all the patrons of their money, gotten the information he wanted and be light years away from this mess.

Wedge is, sadly, not that type of Corellian. He also lacks the freighter to make his escape.

His clothes are conspicuously out of character (and out of period) for the locals. Still better than his other choice, the rebel flight suit standard to every X-wing jockey. Notorious as he looks, after the blaster incident, no one's bothering him; there's a sizable hole on one of the tables from the blaster's bolt, which didn't destroy the hard wood as much as went right through it.

So, sabacc and whiskey, two things Wedge appreciates whether on or off duty. Ends up some of the locals, eager to gamble, where intrigued by Wedge's strange card deck. Enough cajoling (in the form of free alcohol and, more valuable, free info) meant Wedge didn't have much of a choice but to start a sabacc table. Luckily, the rules weren't too complicated. Before long, everyone was betting.

To whoever approaches the table, Wedge gives them the same spiel: ] We're closed for new players, but feel free to bet on the current players. [ He wraps his fingers around a bottle's neck and drinks, then puts the half-filled bottle next to four empty bottles.

If he's drunk, he doesn't show it. ]

[howexciting]

But how does one play this game? I am afraid I cannot bet if I do not understand the rules in their entirety.

[Leonardo was drawn to the curious display, a gambling the likes of which he had not seen before. Though he wears the clothes of a man from these parts, he does not look at all like he belongs - no weapons of any sort, nothing but kindness and curiosity shining in his eyes, and the accent to his speech being from somewhere far distant. This man is very clearly Not From Around Here.

He pulls up a chair beside Wedge, and a little behind him so that he has plenty of room. After the incident with the blaster, most of the locals seem to be more interested in hanging around the other players, rather than the dealer, so it is an easy enough task.]

I understand that your goal is, in effect, to reach the number 23, or... or negative 23, is that correct? But positive numbers trump their negatives?

Regina | OC | #20

[assimilation]

In all honesty, Regina has always been bad at discerning when she should be scared and when she should be curious; the latter has always seemed like a much more important thing to her, especially in places that she's never been. So while somewhere in the back of her mind she considers the possibility that being trapped in briars might be bad, a more pressing question occurs to her.

"How do you move like that?"

She voices the question to the briars, half expecting an answer out of them -- but none comes, and so she's left standing silently, eyes trained on the briars as they slowly move to trap her. Honestly, it might be best if someone just came to get her out before she was closed in completely...or perhaps you got stuck in the maze she allowed them to build as well? If you get nearby she'll turn her attention to you, asking the same question.

"Do you know...what these vines are? And why they move?"

(ooc; If you want more information on her before tagging, you can reference the app-in-progress!)

[howexciting]

The hedge maze in the middle of the forest path is rather sudden, but Leonardo has the Yellow Illuminant's necklace to guide him through it, the gentle glow of sunlight from its pendant causing the briars to shrink away just enough to make his passage through this strange maze just a little bit easier.

As Leonardo turns the corner, he suddenly notices a figure, and on moving closer, sees a lovely young woman, probably just as lost as he is. The brambles around the two seem to shrink back a little as he approaches with his pendant, though the ones behind seem willing to grow back now that the light is not shining on them as heavily.

Before he can speak, she asks him not what he's doing here, but... but about the vines that surround them now. "... I am afraid not, madonna. I am a stranger to this land... just as you are, I believe."

Re: Regina | OC | #20

[fridgeninja]

"Only that they look dangerous." Souji's answer is glib, curt, and wary - the forest has him on edge, in dungeon-mode, and he has a katana in his hands, glasses glowing pale blue as he surveys the terrain. "Mm. And that there aren't any of them to the northeast yet."

[morbirdinterest]

[Shuu is staying well away from Regina, especially since she's attracted the vines' attention. Who is he to interfere if she is too fascinated to get away from them?]

I do not, but I would hazard a guess that being captured by them for purposes unknown would be a singularly unpleasant way to find out.

#22, will match format!

[stophamatime]

[Places that look weird aren't exactly new, and there's something in the current state of things that reminds Ken of Tartarus - it's not a mirror image, but something about the colors, the way his footsteps echo on the tiles, the eerie silence just waiting for something nasty lurking around the corner to break it and give itself away -

- the way it suddenly cuts off into a landscape that could've been lifted straight from Mars definitely does not remind him of Tartarus, nor does the way space seems to bend at the seams there, the ground twisting upward so violently he trips on it and falls forward face first.

He's quick, though - quick enough to slam the butt of his spear against the ground to catch himself before he hits the ground.

And then he straightens himself up, looking around with a slightly embarrassed expression. Nobody saw that, did they?]

[moonsets]

[ Sorry, Ken.. of course someone would be around to see it - such is Murphy's law when it comes to tripping. The good news is that said spectator doesn't look like he's about to laugh at the kid nearly falling on his face.. although the bad news is probably the identity of said spectator.

One hand shoved into the pocket of his coat, the other one curled around the bus stop sign he's carrying around, he watches Ken with a look that's a little hard to decipher.

It only lasts a moment or two though before he instead lets out a heavy breath. ]

Careful.

[ Shinjiro Aragaki, king of being eloquent and working out issues. ]

[shiroganeheir]

From another seam that looks suspiciously like some sort of lab from an action flick, two figures emerge, one short with a blue hat and a drawn gun, and another floating behind the first.

Naoto walks over to the boy, returning her gun to its holster under her jacket. "Good day."

[capital_punishment]

Of all the times for new humans to start popping up in here - especially clumsy humans.

[Moh Shuvuu really hopes this human doesn't need or want guidance of any sort; she's not keen on babysitting some stray human while she's trying to find her own. Why had she had to get separated from him now of all times? He's much better at dealing with clumsy humans who have no business being here. Then again, that's probably because he is a human; Moh Shuvuu sometimes lets herself forget that fact.]

[fridgeninja]

[A kid with a spear is a slightly alarming sight, but Souji's seen enough stranger things to adjust. His main concern, as he moves closer, is keeping them both safe. As he moves, he carries with him a bubble of dark blue carpeting, low ceiling, and an edge of black metal wall and tinted window - the Velcet Room, as he remembers it, a just-barely-stable projection a few feet around him.]

Malik Al-Sayf | Assassin's Creed

[loyalrebel]

#21

Malik isn't difficult to pick out of a crowd, there aren't many one armed men who walk with his confidence... or have been known to put people in the dirt if they come at him with either a raised fist or a knife. He may have billed himself as a 'preacher' on his way 'up north' to the townsfolk and others who ask, an image his even tone and dark dress certainly give credit to aided by the fact that he can read and speak latin.

The Bastille is a good place to listen to people though, and some buy him his drinks sometimes (in a likely attempt to get whatever god they believe in to send some sort of kindness their way in exchange) and others mostly ignore him. He forgets at times that the name he's given them isn't his own but he still gives them a polite smile as he raises his hand in greeting.

"Safety and peace, friends." He greets back, crossing deeper in to the building to what has been declared 'his' seat at the bar. It's far enough from the card games that he's not likely to be caught by flying glassware or flying bullets but still close enough to step in if he feels the urge to do so.

#22

Malik is not a man without nightmares, quite the opposite even especially after the tragedy in Solomon's Temple and the betrayal of the man they should have been able to trust as Mentor. Dark walls grow from the landscape that create a cave that smells of dust and forgotten things left to the lacework of spiders. It's a twisted rendition of Solomon's Temple, a recurring place in Malik's nightmares and one that is never pleasant to go through.

"KADAR!" It's a shout ahead, through the gloom and followed by an almost inhuman noise of rage and grief made fresh.

There are also the fears of an Assassin, though they appear in a different set of walls that grow from the shifting landscape. Masyaf's stones are something Malik knows nearly better than his own body, walls and staircases that he has drawn the maps of hundreds of times and walked his entire life. There are things that are wrong however; the utter emptiness and silence, the weapons forgotten in the dirt, the torn banners of red and white. It is a place abandoned, the white robed men who brought life to it long fallen and their order forgotten.

Malik is on the wide entrance before the crumbling doors to the fortress proper, one knee in the dust as he holds a distinct eagle hilted sword with a mix of horror and sadness.

22! c:

[howexciting]

Leonardo is not sure how long he's been running through the streets of Rome, but it has been enough that he is starting to get tired. But he cannot stop, not with Cesare Borgia and the Papal Army at his heels. He turns past a building to try and hide, feeling as if he suddenly hits something much like a thick film in the air - a disgusting feeling of trudging forward through thick and murky mud when there is nothing but the open alleyway in front of him.

But then it releases him, as quickly as it caught him, and he finds himself standing breathless instead before a gloomy city, a solid cliff at his back rather than the streets of Rome. The architecture he does not recognize, and the location of which seems quite far from home. He looks down briefly upon the city in front him, and then up at the fortress up the path to his right, noting the symbol that he would recognize as belonging to the Assassin Order, even as torn and old as the flags appear. Could this be...?

Finally, Leonardo hesitantly approaches after a moment more of trying to catch his breath, noting a figure kneeling in the dust in front of the once-grand fortress. He opens his mouth at first, but no words come out, not wanting to disturb him... but he simply has to know if he is where he thinks he is, and finally he finds his voice. "... messere? Are you all right?"

[skjalf]

The sight of a man who was so obviously a proud warrior kneeling in the dust before a crumbling fortress tugged at Elizabeth's sense of compassion. She knew him not, but then again, it did not matter. No matter what he might be grieving in this moment, she felt it only right that he knew he was not alone. Whether he chose to accept her company or not was entirely his decision. And she would honour whichever option he might choose. Carefully, she approached him by a few paces and then paused in place.

"Sir? If you require aid, I will do whatever I may to help." The world might be a maelstrom around them, and she might have been frightened out of her mind by the sight of it. But her tone remained calm, so as to calm him. Which was much more important to accomplish in her mind than in tending to her own unease. Now that she had made her presence known, she felt better able to close what distance remained and join the warrior, standing at his side.

The fortress must once have been an impressive thing; what ruins remained held a haunted sort of beauty to them, and the architecture she could note was designed toward practical and sensible defense. In short: the ideal medieval fortress. But he was not used to it being in such a sorry state, that much she could tell. And hesitantly, she reached out to place a loose hand upon his shoulder. Were he to brush her aside now, she would not at all begrudge it.

"Perhaps your people have moved to a more defensible location, sir." She would not give up hope that they were alive, wherever they might be.

Kozmotis Pitchiner | Guardians of Childhood/Rise of the Guardians

[fearguard]

#20

Kozmotis is tall, taller than most by at least a foot and there's something distinctly alien to his features. The gold glint of his eyes is evident in the gloom, predatory as he moves through the trees. He doesn't need sunlight to see well enough to keep going forward, he's fought in darkness deeper than this before and while there isn't the assurance of his own men around and behind him he isn't afraid.

"Hello? Is anyone nearby? I can help you." He called, even as he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword. This was, after all, a place that fearlings and nightmare men would infest given half the opportunity not to mention whatever creatures happened to be native.

#22

Gardens form around Kozmotis, fantastic beautiful things that are far more vividly colored than any from earth. There are low hedges of green and bobbing flowers in more colors than have ever been. There's the giggle of a girl echoing between the leaves, and the flash of skirts as small feet patter across lush grass.

Kozmotis gives chase, because it's his daughter and he'd give anything to catch her again even as the gold glitter of the stars and galaxies swirling above are swallowed by darkness and the garden decays to broken branches and twisted trunks that melt in to the stones of a house and the gilt boards of a ship.

"Emily Jane!" He called, the darkness crawling up along behind him.

20

[brushitoff]

"Can you? I suppose I can appreciate that." She can handle herself, but she also doesn't know where she is. She's been walking through it long enough to tell: it feels similar, but it's not the Northern Forest.

Why worry about that, though, when there's something more pressing to address? "Who and what are you?"

elizabeth of york | the white queen | 21 ► 22!

[skjalf]

21;
( she is here for one very simple reason: to end this conflict, one and for all. the town isn't very productive when the miners and townsfolk are at each others' throats. and she, for one, enjoys being able to eat. no one has ordered her to be here. the risks she takes are entirely her own as she waits upon the customers, smiling prettily as she passes drinks around. men very much in their cups have notoriously loose tongues. elizabeth intends to ply them with as much as is needed, and then smile and non-committally say all the right things in order to get them to tell her exactly what she needs to end this.

things become more raucous as the night wears onward, to the point where a brawl breaks out over some meagre loss at the poker table. naturally. turning, she flips her hair and gives the fiddler in the corner a smile and a wink. charm pays off when music begins to drown out the slurred cursing, bright and jaunty. elizabeth sets her tray of shot glasses aside, and takes the first few steps in a simple and exuberant dance. )

Come now, lads! Which one of you would like to be the first to take a turn with me about the room? ( if her distraction works, she will be quite pleased with herself. )


22;
( the sky is falling! well, not really, but it bloody well looks like it. after months of being subjected to similar hallucinations, elizabeth has been difficult to move, to be convinced that this is actually happening and not simply all in her mind. she walks the cobbled streets beneath her feet, even as the stones begin to rise and fly off into the distance. truth be told, it is not until the tower of london inexplicably looms overhead that she stops dead in her tracks and her eyes open wide. whether it be the sight itself or the terrible memories the fortress holds for her, in this moment is when her feet finally find some speed to them. )

Edward! Geoffrey! ( her cries echo off the damp stone, but no children appear before her to allay the fears she and her sisters have had since their disappearance. her nightmares typically consist of walls closing in upon her, or the darkness of sanctuary. not of this horrific loss. the newness of it sees elizabeth caught within two heartbeats, and she runs on surges of adrenaline from room to room, screaming the names of two little boys who are neither alive nor present in order to hear her. until there is a great rumble, and she realizes in horror that the building is beginning to crumble with her inside. choking on the dust, elizabeth presses a hand over her mouth and nose and attempts to navigate her way out.

but her heart will forever carry the sorrow that once again, she has been unable to protect her family. )

22

[brushitoff]

[A forest encroaches on the crumbling building.]

What was that? I couldn't hear you.

[Then again... She glances around, watching the two landscapes interact. Then again, it's a wonder she heard Elizabeth at all, with this strange magic going on.]

Are you alright?

[morbirdinterest]

Prompt #21

[Fortunately, Shuu's time as doctor at St. Pigeonation's serves him well as an investigator, especially since wounded people tend not to question the people stitching them up, even if they are mysteriously stranded travelling doctors. Unfortunately, Shuu's cover story as a mysteriously stranded travelling doctor means he has to, well...doctor people.

(It's a good thing the Trumps account for the fact that he's a bird by massaging the perceptions of people around him on Jaunts. Some things just can't be explained away, no matter how good a doctor you are.)

The back room of the Bastille's been turned into a makeshift clinic for those who've been wounded in fist fights and firefights. As with the tavern itself, the clinic is more or less neutral ground -- and Shuu makes sure all the patients remember that. Though...for all his lack of bedside manner, Shuu has improvised magnificently. Most of the wounded will probably not die.

If you're a fellow Investigator, maybe you've been pressed into service as his assistant. If you're an Infiltrator, maybe you're one of the wounded, or are insisting on helping for reasons of your own. Or maybe you're someone else entirely.]

Prompt #22

[The area around Shuu is leached entirely of color, except for splashes and accents of red. Within the greyed out colors Shuu himself stands out as a pop of brown, for all his dull plumage. Anyone who finds them here will find it eerily quiet -- aside from a distant, echoing voice and seems to call from the distance, so close the speaker must be just around a corner, surely.

Hey, Isa! What do you think about... the voice calls, before trailing off, as if the speaker had wandered out of earshot, only to pick up again from another direction. ...member to eat! Here, I got you a...]

...I am not amused.

21!

[stophamatime]

[The Trumps do manage to smooth over quite a few things for investigators, thankfully, but there are a few things that they won't account for, and children, unfortunately, is one of them.

Shuu's makeshift clinic, on the other hand, has been quite useful to Ken, in that it gives him a legitimate excuse for hanging around the Bastille and staying close to the flow of information without having to constantly explain himself or avoid getting thrown out. Especially after he's lent a hand patching up one of the tavern staff who stepped into the wrong fight at the wrong time; there hasn't been any kind of spoken agreement, but they've not said a word about his presence ever since.

He could do a lot more by calling on his Persona, but that's something he's not eager to try and explain away if it turns out that the Trumps aren't giving them any help covering for powers, so he's not going to try and find out unless he has to. Fetching things and taking care of the more basic tasks to free up Shuu for more important matters will have to suffice.

It keeps him busy. But every now and then, there's time to catch his breath, take a seat at the one small table in the room that isn't being appropriated for medical purposes, and get a cup of...whatever they have in here that isn't alcoholic, which translates to "not much." There's water?

The water here tastes pretty bad, from the slight grimace on his face as he puts his cup down and watches the door.

Ken's got a decent sense of pattern recognition, and it's been surprisingly long since the last casualty limped in. He's counting down the minutes in his head.]

Haruhi Fujioka | Ouran High School Host Club |#20

[just_a_commoner]

Finding her way this deep into the forest, Haruhi began to wonder why she'd come all the way out here in the first place. It wasn't that she had trouble remembering, exactly, but that by now, it seemed so pointless. She really shouldn't have volunteered to find that girl's rabbit... after all, in a forest this size, there was no doubt a million different things that would want to catch and eat the thing, provided it didn't get stuck in a bog and drown or find itself injured in a hunter's trap. Still, even after over an hour of following it through trees and over logs, she still kept it within sight with surprising regularity. And so she followed. Hopefully she'd be able to find her way back after all of this.

She heard some foliage shuffling somewhere in the trees. She looked up, alert and cautious. It wasn't as though she was scared of the woods, exactly. Sure, she'd heard the stories and seen what happened to people who venture in carelessly, but those were things that happened to other people. Still, she reached down slowly for a hefty stick near her feet and looked around.

"Hello? Is someone there?" She called.

She hadn't meant to scream so loudly or fall down when the bramble shot out and weaved through the trees the way it did. She didn't know what was happening, but she watched nearly-impenetrable walls form and nearly surround her. When the rustling had stopped, she got to her feet, only slightly aware of how her heart thundered or how sweaty her brow had become. It didn't matter nearly as much as the path that the thorny vines had made for her. Confused and uncertain, Haruhi armed herself with her stick and started down the path, really only certain of one thing at the moment:

The rabbit was the least of her worries.

[willyousee]

Further along the path there is a flash of bright golden light, and when she rounds the curve she will find a young, androgynous figure in elaborate golden robes. Firefly motes dance and twinkle, settling in long, pure white hair and illuminate a face nearly too lovely to be real. The keen, beautiful symmetry of the person seems to have focused into a sharp-edged smile that is currently being directed at the smoking remnants of a vine wall across the roadway.

As soon as they realize her presence, they turn and all the fierce pleasure is gone, replaced with sweet, gentle concern. "Why child, what are you doing wandering the depths of Night's Bower alone? This place is full of dangers none but the Illuminants are truly equipped to handle. Are you lost?"

Spike Spiegel | Cowboy Bebop | #21

[redroseblues]

(( ooc: it had to be done. ))

Believe it or not, Spike had frequented seedier taverns, though on the list, this would rank near the top of them. He was working, as a poor man often was, and was actually quite alert despite the drink in his hand and the three upside-down glasses in front of him. The only thing worse than the company at the bar was the drinks that Spike half-suspected were cut with either stale water or piss.

Spike looked over his shoulder as he heard someone enter the bar and quickly checked with the grainy photograph he kept in his jacket. Not the guy he was looking for. Shame, too, because with Whiskey this bad, he didn't want to stick around pretending to like it any longer than he had to.

[wholeheaded]

If it's any consolation Ambrose is far from pleased about being stuck here as well. Too much tension and violence and gods he is unhappy about the necessity of carrying a gun, even if it is mostly for show. Mostly.

A quick scan of the saloon shows no active threats of looming terribleness so he strides to the bar with something approaching confidence, aiming for the empty space beside Spike. The man has become something face but... still a big ol' question mark. Maybe today Ambrose can get some answers.

"How's the paint thinner today?"

20

[straightahead]

The Woods. It's been a long time since she's been to them, and it's hard for her to tell if these are her woods gone terribly, terribly wrong, or another woods entirely. Her heart leaps with excitement and fear at it all, but instead of acting upon this, she turns to her partner for this journey, and smiles.

"Let's try and find a path." She declares, pulling her furry cloak around her tighter, then taking a bold step foreword.