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!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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 don't intend on claiming any other Wardens." A light tease. "I should hope they don't look to me for that."

Seeing as she has no intention of finding herself another lover, that would not be an issue. There would be no king and queen, with a Daario lurking in the corners. Of course, with this line of thinking comes questions of where they go with this. He loves her, she loves him.

She smiles up at him. It fades after a moment, a little dimmer.

"The Kingslayer's here. I saw him, I spoke with him."

At first, before she speaks, he wonders why her smile fades -- then he understands, and his expression hardens as mild displeasure creeps into it.

"Suppose he's our ally now." Then, "Does he know that?"

He hasn't told Daenerys of his own experience with Jaime Lannister, how it had almost seemed like friendship for just a moment, until he had realized that the Kingslayer was making sport of him and of the Watch.

But that was long ago, when he was a green and thin-skinned bastard boy.

He's better at schooling his expression. When she'd met ser Jaime, she'd been snarling at him.

"Insofar as we can be, I suppose." Her tone is flippant. Warning enough to still maintain one's guard around him. "He didn't dispute my claim of it."

If he didn't recall that meeting in the Dragonpit, surely he'd have mentioned it. He'd had no qualms about laughing over his friend saving his life when she'd asked him how he survived.

"He told me something--about my father." It takes a moment to draw her thoughts together. "He said my caretakers likely thought it best to shield me from his terrors, but if I intended to become queen, I should be aware of what he'd done.

"He said that my father executed a man by forcing him to strangle himself as he tried to save his burning father." She's looking him in the eye, now. When they met, he said her father burned his family. "That you would know enough about it. Is it true?"

He looks away from her when she asks that, even though he's holding her in his arms. The way her gaze is so square makes him glance at the ground off to her side, then nod.

"That was my uncle Brandon, the man who was strangled. And my grandfather who was burned in his armor. It's why the North rose up. Your father demanded my father's head, when my father had done nothing against the crown."

Now he looks back at her, tense, close to apologetic.

He would know plenty Jaime had said... and he did. Jon knew enough.

[ As she continues to watch him, her jaw clenches, her throat works. It would be easier to look away. She wants to look away, because 'being burned' doesn't sound nearly as horrific as what she'd been told truly happened. ]

And you still entertained me when I asked you to forgive my House.

[ Viserys never told her this. Ser Jorah, ser Barristan, not even Tyrion. No one thought to tell her this. ]

He summoned them south--why?

I did. The old quarrels, the old hatreds... they won’t serve us now. I didn’t come to fight you over what your father did; he paid for his crimes with his life. I came to make an alliance with you.

[It’s not hard to see that she’s horrified by the true story, and it’s not hard to tell that, for one reason and another, it’s been kept from her in the past.]

Your brother, the older one, he kidnapped my aunt when she was on her way to Brandon’s wedding. Brandon went down to King’s Landing to get her back. He wanted to fight your brother, but the king imprisoned him instead and summoned my grandfather.

[The imprisonment, at least, he can understand, but he can also understand why his uncle might have thundered down to King’s Landing to help a beloved younger sister.]

They never knew where my aunt was. Not until my father found her after the war and brought back her bones.

"Because of the dead."

Others want to make her pay for her father's crimes. Would he feel the same way if the dead were nothing more than a story? Would he have answered her summons?

Finally, she looks away, off to her left. The grass is full, not trampled by countless feet, bright like the Dothraki Sea's grass is.

"Kidnapped and raped her, if you listen to the Usurper's side." Viserys, for all his faults and want of vengeance, spoke of their elder brother's death being one for love. For Lyanna Stark. "Perhaps the Kingslayer's right."

They both know it’s because of the Dead, so to that, he says nothing. It’s not until she speaks of his aunt that he replies.

“You heard a different story of my aunt Lyanna?” He shouldn’t be surprised. If the younger of her two brothers had shielded knowledge of her father’s crimes from her, why wouldn’t he have lied to her about what the elder brother had done?

"Viserys said my brother died for his love." She's looking back at him now, brows lightly furrowed. "Ser Barristan did not speak of a man who would kidnap and defile a woman."

She couldn't very well ask the Kingslayer about Rhaegar. Not now, at least. Instead, there were a pile of corpses who might've known the truth of this, all turned to dust as time skipped ahead.

"What sort of woman was your aunt?"

He shakes his head: he doesn’t know much.

“My father would hardly speak of her. She was still half a child, sixteen or thereabouts. I’ve heard that she liked to ride, and that she was beautiful.”

It had never mattered to him much, except that she was a lady of the North who had been treated ill. That the war had led to his own birth is all that holds real interest for him, but it still won’t tell him who his mother is. He’s nearly given up wondering, long since resigned to the fact that the knowledge died when his father did.

"We inherited their wars and their dislikes, and we hardly know why."

Her smile's dim. It doesn't stop her from reaching up to trace the pads of her fingers along his jaw.

"Seems like we've stumbled into another mess."

“I like you,” he says, contradicting her. They don’t have to inherit each other’s wars and dislikes. They don’t have to hate each other because of what passed between their fathers, or their grandfathers. The only thing they can be certain of is today, right now, and that they love each other.

“Is it better, here, to have allies, or to fight each other over things that won’t matter again until we leave, that may not matter even then?

"Reason enough to not expect a knife in the back from you." Her smile grows, just a little. Fonder. "Now tell that to the rest of them."

He's made his point. She might not like the Kingslayer, but they were under a sort of ceasefire for now that she would continue to respect. She's already given him the assurance she wouldn't cause him harm.

"Theon is particularly hateful. I don't think he'd enjoy hearing your logic."

His smile becomes fonder to the point of indulgence. He doesn’t have to tell her that she doesn’t have to worry about that, doesn’t ever have to worry that he would hurt her and mean to do it, because they both know it. There is nothing she could do that she would do that could ever make him turn against her.

But Theon... that’s another tale. Some of the sweetness fades from Jon’s expression, replaced by trouble.

“Greyjoy never much liked hearing anything from me until we met on Dragonstone. When we were boys... we weren’t friends. Then he betrayed Robb. There were many years when I would have killed him on sight.”

He could melt hearts with that smile. He's already melted hers, loathe as she is to admit to something so girlish and dainty.

"Messy," she says again, giving his chest a good poke. "Now you're older and wiser. Handsomer?" A lift of the brows.

Her opinion of him is clearly biased.

"He looked younger, in any case. You should keep that in mind." It's a gentle reminder. "How will you deal with a belligerent child?"

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cw Targaryens ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ayyo can't stop won't stop ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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🤢

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jfc I almost did brackets again kfdjghlfkdjg

tick tick tick tick tick tick... (that’s the sound of a ticking plot bomb)

TIME TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT

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Now starring Aegon Targaryen as Jon Snow as Boo Boo The Fool

ugly laughs....sob