assguardians | ASGARD GENESIS

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!test drive meme

ASGARD GENESIS - TEST DRIVE #1

the test drive meme.

❧ let's do this.

Anyone can post to the test drive meme, including duplicates! Please put your character name and canon in the title of your comment.
All threads are considered open to everyone! Tag around and make some friends (or enemies)!
If you decide to apply to the game, you can use your TDM threads for your app samples! You only need to provide seven comments if you use TDM samples.
You can't be "late" to a TDM! This will be considered open until the next one goes live next month.
You can make up your own scenario, interact with one of the locations in the game, use the welcome process of your character selecting a god house, or use our optional prompt below!
You do not need to pick a god house to play on the TDM! You can have your character still in the process of discussing/deciding/despairing instead.
If you are accepted to the game, you can keep TDM threads as game canon as long as you fudge some of the details depending on your original thread. If you aren't sure exactly how to do this, you can always ask a mod.
Reserves open on May 25 at 12:01AM PST and close on May 31 at 11:59PM PST.
Applications open on June 1 at 12:01AM PST and close on June 7 at 11:59PM PST.
Please always feel free to contact the mods if you have any questions! Have fun, dear (future?) Wanderers. ♥

❧ optional scenario.
As you enter Asgard proper, many of the natives have gathered into curious crowds to greet these mysterious children of the World Tree. Some of them carry baskets of flowers and nervously offer one to any Wanderers that come near. They are vibrant and colorful, picked from the wilds surrounding Asgard, and they might have an odd effect on your character if they sniff the flowers directly.

Purple flowers will make your character very giggly and easily amused by everything they see and hear.
Orange flowers will make your character feel very warm all over, like the sun is beating down on them directly.
Blue flowers will make your character somewhat short and impatient with anything that seems like even a minor inconvenience to them.

Effects of the flowers can wear off anywhere between a few minutes to an hour. And for those new to Asgard, this scenario aligns with some of the general curses we might have in the game!

navigation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It’s good to see a familiar face. He steps in beside her, and a little of the tension goes out of him.

“Why are we here?”

He knows what they were told, and they were near enough to each other when he was pulled through that he’s not surprised that she was pulled through, too. Still, they’re far from home, and taken at a crucial time, marching between two dangerous enemies and hoping that the brief truce will hold. What they were told doesn’t seem like enough, even if it’s the only answer there is right now.

We. A simple emphasis, and yet it speaks volumes.

Some of that distance to her, sharp lines, softens as she looks at Jon. He's dressed for winter; he's always dressed for winter, even when Dragonstone was still kinder for warm enough climes.

"I know we spoke of doing things together," she says, leaning a touch closer for more privacy, "But don't you think this is somewhat excessive?"

He laughs, but the laugh is mildly sardonic; it only goes so far. “Your Hand would say it was too much. I’m happy to see you.”

He’s happy to not have to spend whatever time he’s trapped here without seeing her, more like, missing her every day.

“These gods... what do you make of them?” He tries to catch sight of her wrist. He’s never worn a jewel before and isn’t sure that he likes the idea of starting now, but be that as it may, he wears Heimdall’s purple stone.

If he had known he would find her, he might not have been so hasty to choose.

"My Hand's been known to say a great many things. And I'm just as happy to ignore some of those things."

It only matters that he laughs; she's an answering smile, softer. Being happy to see her is far different from how they'd regarded one another for a great period of time in the beginning. "I'm glad you're here." With me.

Because it was one thing to face this alone. Entirely another to have Jon with her.

"I don't care for gods." The ones from their world never answered her when she needed them, after all. "These gods seem... more like us. No talk of punishment, no expecting us to bend to their wills. Do you believe them?"

"Advisors don't like it when you ignore them. Don't like it when I ignore them, either." He says this nonchalantly. Davos Seaworth takes it in stride, but Sansa, not so much. "But the choices are ours to make."

He hears her answer about gods.

"Do we have any choice but to believe them? I never thought bending to the will of the Old Gods was a hard thing: they don't ask much, just to keep your oaths, don't hurt your family or your guests, and so on. If these gods are more like us, they could be more like the worst of us." A pause, and he adds, "But they don't seem like it so far. Which one wanted you? I took Heimdall."

"Might not, but advisors are meant to advise, not rule." She hadn't liked it when he proclaimed himself a king in her council room, stating he would go beyond the Wall. Less to do with the fact that he was calling himself a king, and more to do with the threat of beyond. "Their wisdom is important all the same."

Jorah learned over the years that fact. Tyrion... he's brilliant, but not infallible. As for the gods--

"I've never bent to any god's will." One of the smallfolk shyly offers her a purple flower. She smiles at the girl, taking it. "Heimdall." She sounds the god's name out on her tongue. "Sigyn. I chose her."

Edited (hahahaha reading comp with choosing gods) 2019-05-27 15:52 (UTC)

[OOC: except I totally lied and now he's in Tyr.]

"They aren't responsible for our mistakes, either." He can't be sure whether or not he's made mistakes in his short time ruling the North. He doesn't think he has, but that sort of thing is a matter of perspective, and a matter of priorities: there are few decisions that will be good for everyone they affect. Someone nearly always loses, at least a little. He tries to make the decision that will be best for the greatest number of people, and now, much of it is out of his hands. "I suppose I'm an advisor now, too.

"Have you met any of the others who took Sigyn as their patron?"

Because there's something he needs to tell her before she finds out on her own.

"No, they're not." She wonders if he's chastising her for how much she's yelled at Tyrion as of late. It seems as if the two have grown further and further apart in their preferences for winning the Seven Kingdoms ever since setting foot on Westerosi soil. "I suppose you are."

Except she doesn't view him as her advisor. Never mind that they share one another's beds, but she still views him as the obstinate King in the North, despite him bending the knee to her.

"I haven't." A shake of her head. "I've not seen her territory yet, either. Have you met any of Tyr's?"

“No. But I ran into someone from home.”

He speaks carefully. But he doesn’t sound apologetic, because Dany isn’t the one to whom he owes any apologies.

“The first of the Free Folk I ever met. A woman, red hair — her name is Ygritte. To me, she died years ago, when her people attacked Castle Black. To her, it just happened.”

His words might've been cause for something happier, but with the way he takes care in mentioning this person, her easiness slips away.

"So she's an enemy?"

He chuckles, completely mirthless.

“No. Well, a little.”

He reaches for Dany’s hands, both of them, to face her and tell her this.

“No. I was a man of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and father no children. But for a while, I had to convince the Free Folk that I had deserted the Watch. I had to ride with them, eat with them, become one of them.”

And no man of the Free Folk would turn down a girl like Ygritte if she was offering herself. But it had been more than that. He’s not sure whether that makes it better or worse.

He's acting strange. Stranger than she would expect someone who encountered an enemy, former enemy, or ally from their world. No mirth, hedging his words, reaching for her hands.

It's all cause to watch him far more carefully than she'd been watching. He tells her of his vows when he was with the Watch, no wife and no children (might've been amusing under other circumstances that he's so adamant about her ability to have children). It might've called far more questions to mind, except--

"Become one of them," she repeats. Her gaze lowers to their hands. Rather obvious, when he frames it all that way. So a past lover's returned into Jon's life, is that is? When she looks up at him, she lifts her chin. "What does she expect of you?"

He takes in the way her gaze drops, and his stomach takes a small drop with it. It’s a slight relief when she looks back up at him, but it might be that she is steeling herself for something she doesn’t want to hear.

“Nothing. She was killed at Castle Black — an arrow took her. Not mine. I held her while she died and burned her body north of the Wall, as she would have wanted it.”

So little and thin and pale on the pyre he’d built for her, and he had known not to look back at it, to walk away and keep walking until he’d reached his bed.

“She knows what happened, but to her, it was only yesterday. And she had been angry with me for a while when it happened. I’d left her.”

She is steeling herself for something unpleasant. Talk of past lovers is never something that comes easy to the tongue, and she's chosen to say very little of Drogo save for that one rant she'd given him, and then her ability to have children. Daario's never been mentioned, and likely never would.

"That must have been difficult." Especially if she was someone he'd grown to care for. She can't keep herself from squeezing his hands, a silent I understand. Her fingers tighten a bit more when he mentions the girl's anger. That has her back stiffening and her eyes becoming sharper. "Has she attacked you here?"

“No.” There is a bit of fondness in his tone, for all that he is squeezing Dany’s hands in return. “I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. But I told her that I brought her people south of the Wall.”

He didn’t do it for her.

He didn’t do it only for her. Yet if he had never known her, he might never have done it.

“She seemed... resigned to it all. She knows she died. She knows I became King in the North. She knows I love you.”

Somehow, the way things had fallen together, he hadn’t managed to tell Ygritte that he isn’t King in the North anymore. One thing is certain: when he does, she will call him a kneeler.

Her look turns a bit sour at that. He wouldn't have blamed her because he's a good man. Dany, on the other hand, would take quite an issue with someone attacking him, and the mutinous glint in her eyes all but announces that.

"You told her you--" The breath whooshes from her lungs.

All the fight deflates from her as she gapes up at him, eyes impossibly wide.

To know it, deep down, was one thing. She's seen it in his eyes for so long, it's hard to recall when the look first appeared. To hear him say it, however...

Had he told Ygritte that, exactly?

“I told her I’m yours.”

Seeing the way Dany is looking at him, though... he realizes he hasn’t exactly told her that, either. It’s implied, with a kiss or a touch or the pull he feels to always be with her. But it hasn’t been stated in words.

“I love you, Dany. You have nothing to fear.”

He had loved Ygritte, but she had died, he had mourned her. It wasn’t meant to be.

Him and Dany, it feels like it was meant to be, like there is something in them both that would always have pulled them together.

That makes her brows twitch, surprise and pleasure mixed, manifesting in that brief movement. Her eyes are soft as she meets his gaze, the way she knows they look when it's the two of them alone... and sometimes, when they're around others, as well.

Her look betrays her time and time again when it comes to him, but so does his. Which is why when he says he loves her, she already knows--but it still doesn't stop everything from clicking together.

"I'm not afraid. Not of her." She tugs on their hands, willing him to lean closer as she leans up, meaning to kiss him. "Does this mean I get to claim you properly, if you told her that?"

He likes the way her look softens as it fills with happiness, so when she draws him closer for a kiss, he obliges by leaning in, then releasing her hands to pull her into his arms.

It’s as if they’re the only people around, now.

“How do you mean to claim me?”

They are the only people around, once they kiss. Everything else around them falls away, just like it always tends to do when they're alone together. His lips are soft against hers, and he feels warmer than he usually does (because she's cooler than she normally is). It adds a dizzying sort of quality to the kiss as she reaches up to cup his cheek. He's everything she's wanted: home, heat, loyal, and hers... and so much more.

She smiles against his mouth when he asks her that.

"With my hands and mouth."

He leans in to her, and nods, assenting, knowing.

To him, it’s only been a few hours since they woke up together, then dressed with care, preparing for the ship to dock at White Harbor. He’d spent the night in her arms, the last night before land. Things could change when they were no longer on the sea, but he didn’t want them to, and now, far from home, it seems that they may not. She’s warm in his arms, as taut and alive as always in spite of what had happened when they arrived, and kissing her makes his heart beat faster.

“And what if I claim you?”

It should make her recoil, flinch away from the thought of being claimed. The last time she had been, she'd been a khaleesi and nothing more. A princess some called a queen, on the rarer days when she'd showed a spine in the beginnings of her marriage.

"How will you do it?"

Seems fair enough to toss the question back at him.

She doesn't mind it, when it comes to him. How many hours had they spent in bed together on her ship, how many sleepless nights spent learning every inch of his body? They've already done quite a bit of claiming, in that respect.

He kisses her, interrupting the kiss only to speak, not pulling away from her.

“Mm. I’ll follow your lead.”

The truth is that the idea of him claiming her is almost preposterous. They may spend hours upon sweet hours in each others’ arms, learning and exploring and loving, but they meet nearly as equals.

Still, it’s an easy jest. When the kiss breaks, he leans his forehead against hers and speaks in a low tone, only for her ears.

“You have me, my queen. Every bit of me. You have my heart.”

"Copy me, you mean."

She's smiling into the kiss, her eyes shut, body relaxed. And the smile only grows when he continues, voice low, words sweet. There he goes, planting ideas in her head, making her want impossible things before their wars are done.

Their noses brush as she leans in for another kiss. Too sweet, this all is; she's always been a glutton for sweet things, though.

The pads of her fingers brush his cheek. "I love you too."

“Everyone,” (another kiss) “looks to their sovereign to know what to do.”

In truth, he hopes that not everyone looks to Cersei. He could not have looked to Robert, no matter how many stories his father had told him. And Joffrey and Tommen were just boys, one sour and one seemingly sweet enough.

But people could do worse than to look to Dany, who is strong and sweet. He can’t help grinning like a fool at her confession of love, though it doesn’t surprise him.

“I’m glad of it, Dany.” It’s strange, but in a way he feels closer to her now, in this strange new place, than he had in her bed the previous night.

I.a.

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cw Targaryens ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ayyo can't stop won't stop ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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🤢

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