ASGARD GENESIS - TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[asgardmods]

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 really be late to a TDM! This will be considered open until the new one is posted. You can make up your own scenario, interact with one of the locations in the game, use the welcome process of your character waking up or 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. Remember that the optional events are not game canon, so references to it will have to be retconned. If you aren't sure exactly how to do this, you can always ask a mod. The game cap is currently at 55/100. Casts currently at/approaching the 8 character limit are: ASOIAF/GOT: 7/8 Devil May Cry: 5/8 Reserves open on November 24 at 12:01AM EST and close on November 30 at 11:59PM EST. Applications open on December 1 at 12:01AM EST and close on December 7 at 11:59PM EST. Please always feel free to contact the mods if you have any questions! Have fun, dear (future?) Wanderers. ♥ ❧ optional scenario. It's hot. Unbearably hot. It's like the very sun itself is somehow closer to Asgard as it looms large over the city, casting heat and light into every corner of every building. It's not necessarily humid and it's not extraordinarily dry either. It's just hot. It's a faint stinging on the skin, or a constant downpour of sweat, or the strange way even being indoors is still bright and warm. There's no respite from it anywhere, and after hours without any change, it honestly feels like you might melt. No, wait. You are melting. It starts slowly at first: a bead of perspiration left behind as you set something down, maybe. Then maybe everything feels a little slimy, like even the surface of objects and furniture are sweating. And then, when the sun is highest in the sky, you start melting into other things around you. This can be anything. Something you touch or someone you bump into on the streets, the chair you're sitting on or the towel you were using to cool off. Whatever it is you make contact with, you start melting into it. Think more along the lines of oozing and fusing together than dripping and falling apart. With enough strength and determination, you can separate yourself from your new attachment and your body will reform itself as normal. But it's pretty fucking gross in the meanwhile, and it is still very, very hot. navigation.

Comments

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[asgardmods]

Please don't respond to this comment! :)

Kaworu Nagisa // Evangelion

[5thchild]

GENERAL

[ Death wasn’t something he thought too hard about.
The Lilin constantly thought of death, feared it and avoided it, tried to stay alive even thought being alive pained them. They’d be willing to live alone forever if that meant living. The Lilin had such a strong need to survive that Kaworu couldn’t tell if that was a weakness or a strength.

He, on the other hand, didn’t care. Living or dying, it was all the same to him, but it was also a fact that his death had been the ultimate freedom. No longer bounded to and by Adam and having saved Shinji (and consequently saved all Lilin and brought the extinction upon his own species), Kaworu Nagisa welcomed death. When EVA unit 01 crushed him – when Shinji crushed him – Kaworu thanked him one last time and the pain eventually faded. What would come next he’d never guess (but he didn’t think of it either).

He woke up.

After everything was explained to him, Kaworu felt something close to irritation, yet not as strong as a regular human would feel. He didn’t want to be there and he wanted to be dead, like he should be. There was no reason for him to be here, to be alive; for what, for whom? As he walks through the city, those questions seem to haunt him; he always knew what he was and his purpose and role.

But here? There was no such thing.

He stops, looking at his wrist for a second. Perhaps... Shinji was here too. Perhaps that's why he is here, that's why he is alive. Perhaps his destiny isn't fully completed yet. Without his powers, it's hard to tell. He can't locate Shinji like he normally would, nor he can look for him or Adam.

So Kaworu's next step is to do it the "Lilin way": ask about Shinji. He approaches the first person he finds, with a smile on his lips and hands inside his pockets ]

Hello. I'm looking for Ikari Shinji-kun. Can you direct me to him? [ just like that. ]


HOT

[ Kaworu is no strange to heat since his world is engulfed in permanent summer after the events that lead to the icecaps melting. However, as he spent most of his life inside a laboratory, he didn't have to experience heat all that often. Not for long periods of time, anyway. Without his powers, it's a bit more unbearable than expected and eventually he tries to move under a tree to find some shade and perhaps a cooling breeze.

But he was wrong. The heat is still there. And then something else happens.

When he touches the tree, he watches his hand slowly sinking? into it? With a stronger tug, he can pull himself away, but that doesn't make it any less surprising. And curiosity killed the cat, so he decides... to just do it again. Press his palm against the tree and watch it fused.

Angels can fuse with others. They can fuse with themselves, with Adam, with Lilin, with Evangelion... Fusing is something they desire as it's a hope to become whole, not to be lonely. Kaworu can't help to wonder how it'd feel like - to fuse and melt with another, body and soul to join as one. He can only imagine it as being very comfortable.

Not with a tree in particular, however.

And so he tugs his hand away again, this time he has to do so stronger than last. With some struggle, he manages to free himself, giving few steps away due to to the strength and the loss of balance.

That's when he nearly bumps into you. Or perhaps he actually does bump. ]

General

[momsboy]

Uh... [ The person Kaworu is trying to talk to is actually carrying a crate full of metal pieces and it takes Peter a second to realize someone's speaking to him.

He doesn't have a full view of what's in front of him due to the crate and has been using his familiar Sandy, who's by his feet in the shape of a corgi, as a guide. He maneuvers the box to the side, looking at the newcomer. ]

Sorry, who?

HOT

[mindseer]

[Glob take this unseasonable heat. This was entirely too much if you asked her, and she was seriously considering stuffing herself back in the housing and drinking as much iced drinks as she could get her hands on. She preferred it warm, but this was ridiculous.

Honestly? She was wishing for other things as she walked along today while her cane tapped in front of her. What was that? That she had taken her blindfold, because someone just stepped back into her, and she could swear that her hand was trying to ooze its way into their arm.

Freaking out a little, she called out, trying to pull her arm free.]

Ew ew eeeeew! Dude, pull free!

[Glob damn, it felt like she was dealing with the tar baby here!]

Crowley | Good Omens | I'll decide a God House eventually

[sparkofgoodness]

I. IN THE BEGINNING

Well isn't this familiar. No answers to all his questions, time is of the essence.

Essentially, do as you're told and make nice and -- and worse still? There isn't even a good restaurant here.

Just a pizza place, apparently. Nnngh.

Crowley had really only partly listened to everything he was told. He was uncomfortable with shackles, uncomfortable with being here, uncomfortable with a weird feeling he's getting which only intensifies. He'd been having a no-good-very-bad-day before he'd gotten here, and this isn't helping. Still, now nearly at the bottom of his bottle of Talisker he decides maybe he needs to get it together. Work out how to get out of... wherever this place is, in a universal sense.

Standing up, somewhat unsteadily, he tucks the book he has under his arm and spares the bottle a last glance before making a tired gesture.

Nothing happens.

He makes it again, then again, then a third time with growing intensity. The lack of reaction causes a rush of adrenaline that does, at least, momentarily make him more able to focus. This... is a problem.

First, apparently he's been completely cut off from his power. Secondly, he can't summon any more Talisker. Thirdly, he is now utterly wasted and unable to do anything about it.

Crowley gives a dramatic groan, as if the whole situation physically pains him and staggers to lean against a wall for a second as he thinks. What is the point in all of this?

"You have got to be kidding me," he manages, and makes a last weak attempt at encouraging the Talisker to refill. Nothing happens.

He's probably holding the last bottle of Talisker he'll have for a while, and that's a truly awful thought. Maybe he should have paid more attention after all.


II. LIBRA. 24 SEPTEMBER-23 OCTOBER. AVOID UNNECESSARY RISKS.

Trying to focus enough to understand what is apparently... a bunch of people who think they are Norse gods, while still a bit drunk, is...

Awful. It's awful.

Crowley has the impression, though, that he needs to make some sort of... pact with one of them to get any of his powers back. Which, well, isn't that shady and familiar? Oh sure, just toe the line and --

This thought process is getting him nowhere.

All he needs to do, he thinks, is work out which one sounds the least like a dick.

... The problem is, well, they all do a bit.

"Skadi," Crowley mutters, "I haven't even heard of Skadi. That one of the original ones?"

He really lost track, with how often humans changed their mind on all this stuff. Aziraphale would know who they were. Aziraphale would know which one he should be associating with.

Aziraphale isn't here. Aziraphale might not be anywhere anymore.

Bury that thought.

"Hey," he yells, and waves down the first human-ish looking creature he can see, "you! Yeah, you. How much do you know about this place?"


III. WELL, THERMONUCLEAR EXTINCTION HAS ALWAYS BEEN VERY POPULAR.

It's hot.

Crowley has been hot before, very recently. The difference is, when Crowley was hot while being in a fire he could just ignore it. Came with being a demon, especially a demon that possess as strong an imagination as Crowley does.

He can't do that anymore.

So Crowley, still a little drunk, is now also too hot and this is the absolute worst day of his life. No competition. Absolute worst.

Is he dying? Maybe he's dying. He's never been this hot before, but he's also never been cut off from his powers before. Is this a fever? Humans get fevers, right? Is he dying of a fever? How hot can the human body get?

The demon Crowley, encourager of sin, designer of the M25, gluer of coins to pavements and winner of several undeserved commendations staggers pathetically in search of the nearest source of water and -- unable to make it, so drunk weak as he is... collapses onto a patch of grass.

"'m melting," he mumbles, and at this point it's just an exaggeration... but it might not be in a few minutes.


IV. BUGGRE ALLE THIS FOR A LARKE I AMME SICK TO MYE HART OF TYPEFETTINGE

[ Wildcard?!

If you hate prose, use brackets instead and I will match. ]

II

[demonicbeauty]

It was always Ariadne's favorite time, when the new people arrived. She knew, deep down, that that was somewhat selfish. They had homes and families and lives they were being taken from. But at the same time...well. She just liked meeting new people. They also had stories and legends and interesting new words for her to learn. And now that she could properly control her Human form--more or less--she was getting a bit more sociable, getting out there and meeting as many as she could.

So when the lanky man called out to her, she was actually quite delighted, in her little, bird-like sort of way.

Ariadne trotted over. She had a bit of a funny posture for a Human. Half of the time, her arms were out to either side, fingers splayed, like she was about to spread wings and take off at any moment. And she was so petite, it was almost a reasonable assumption.

Also, she used to have wings. But that was another matter.

"Hello," she said in a chirpy, pleasant voice. Slightly girlish, belying her age. She gave him a quick curtsy. "Are you trying to figure out something in particular, sir?"

II. you're going to be fine

[benedicus]

The assumption is correct. Aziraphale does have a considerable knowledge about Norse mythology, although a bit moreso now since he's taken to refreshing himself on it. It had just been one of those things that he hadn't really thought about in years. There had been much more pressing and interesting things than pantheons that no one recognised outside of a good story or, well, a bad one. Now? He had way more free time on his hands than he had any idea what to do with.

And a lack of the ability to properly enjoy it.

If he were in a more pleasant mood, he would think to answer the question about Skadi at great length. Actually, he still might at a later point, but the larger concern at this exact moment was that Crowley was here. It's been a considerable time since he had last seen hair or hide of him. It was almost as if he had vanished and there was a certain anxiety at the thought of being here without him entirely.

Everything else was already hard enough. He wasn't eager to deal with it alone.

"Is this where you've been?" The words are friendly, but the tone is a little sharp. What is he doing? Better yet, what is he even talking about? How much do you know about this place, he had asked. Was that a real question or in jest? He's had more than enough time to have a decent understanding of where they are.

It clicks together immediately as he approaches him. It's the smell that hits him first.

He had been drinking! And without him! That was just rude.

"Oh, you're drunk," he says as he looks over him, trying to get a gauge on just how bad the situation is. He needed to know if he was going to have to help Crowley walk and also exactly how irritated he aught to be with him.

I

[iustise]

Lord John would like to try to pretend that he isn't keeping an eye on the new arrivals in the hopes that a familiar face might arrive, but to deny that fact would be an outright lie. The fact that no such face has appeared is neither here nor there.

He supposes that it really is rather all for the best. They all have their own lives, out there. Hal and Minnie have the children and Jamie has -- well, he supposes he might have his wife again, although he doesn't rightly know, given how the passage of time for the pair of them had been somewhat different. He'd like to think that were the case, though. That they had found each other.

He spares a thought for his own wife and son, although he cannot allow himself much longer lest he start to dwell on how they might be faring without him. It's for the best really, as at that particular moment there sounds from nearby a dramatic groan, as though the owner of the voice were in particular distress, which serves its purpose to startle John out of his thoughts and has him reaching for the hilt of the sword at his side, lest he have stumbled on some particularly bloody skirmish.

The sight that greets him is perhaps less dire, however, and he lets himself relax as he approaches the man in question. Taking note of the bottle in his hand and his heavy lean against the wall as he calls out, "Might I be of some assistance, sir?"

Eridan Ampora | Homestuck

[nautically_themed]

==> Be dead

[ Your name is Eridan Ampora, you are a sea dweller troll, and you have no idea what the ever living fuck just happened. Where are you now?

It takes only a second to remember that oh right, you got chainsawed in two by an angry friend... ex-friend? Did you ever have those? You might have had one at some point before you decided to flip your shit like the Shit and you were divorcing and then you killed her. Holy moobeast, you killed Fef. And blinded Sollux. And destroyed the Matriorb. And also almost killed Kanaya, except she bounced back somehow and..., yeah you definitely deserve being dead, you absolute feral child.

Except you are not.

Or that's what the human Goddesses say. You really don't listen properly, too busy freaking out and absconding out of the palace as soon as they turn their gaze away for a second. The scarf around your neck helps with the cold but you're missing your cape like crazy the moment you step out without looking, like the idiot you are, and the sunrays hit your eyes. Oh jegus, it's daylight.

The shriek of terror you let out as you cover your face and sink to the floor to hide it against your knees is rather undignified. Your brain doesn't even register that the sun here doesn't burn like the one in Alternia, you are just glad that no one's around to see you be colossally stupid.

Or are they?]

==> Don't be dead

[ You are apparently already doing that, even if you aren't sure how. Now that you have found some shade under a huge tree on a park, you take a moment to bask in that miracle, letting out a heartfelt: ]

Holy fuckin' shit, wwhy.

[ Maybe if you had properly listened to the humans you would have a better idea of what is going on. Hah, as if. They started to talk about magic bullshit and you know oh-so-very well that magic does not exist. The bracelets around your wrists are bounded to you by some sort of advanced tech, that must be it. Science.

You spend the next 15 minutes trying to pry them off, going as far as tearing at the skin of your wrist with your very sharp claws during the attempt. Your hands and the grassy ground are stained with your bright purple blood and you give up. It's kind of your specialty to give up on things. Or rather, a curse. But fussing with the bracelets does nothing and it hurts instead, lighter purple tears appear in the corners of your eyes more out of frustration than anything so you stop before you start wailing like a newborn wiggler. You're still bleeding but you can't find it in yourself to care. You deserve all the misery you cause to yourself, self-destruction has always been a scarily natural skill of yours.

When you get tired of drowning on self-pity, you notice that your stomach also hurts, like a faint but constant cramp.

You lift your sweater to check the weird feeling and there’s a thick seam of almost white scar tissue circling your whole torso. A cramp is much better than having your upper body unattached to the lower half, but the view makes you cringe all the same. ]

==> Interact with indigenous subspecies (Sigyn's Farmland)

[ Sea dwellers trolls are coldblooded and most creatures outside the sea are not, so you're not entirely surprised when the cluckbeast pecks at your fingers after you try to pet it. You keep your hands to yourself, frowning at the stupid chicken. There's a lot of them around, along with moobeasts, but this one animal was alone and it had looked lonely to you.]

Fine, be that way. You filthy ball of feath...oh.

[ The cluckbeast is now in your lap. It apparently has decided that you must be cold, so it's trying to fix that. You're very okay with the new and unexpected development. After a little while, and very slowly because you like all your fingers, you raise a hand to caress the chicken's back. It makes a soft, happy trill sound. Some part of you that you had long forgotten feels...at ease. Relaxed. Before you realize it, you chirr back at the chicken.

Your eyes go big behind your square glasses. It's been a long time since you've heard yourself make that sound. It's almost as if life wasn't totally awful. ]

==> Give people options

[ Aka, wildcard. Feel free to hit up this fishy kid if you want to play out anything specific! ]

[ ooc: Replies will come in normal third person and without his typing quirk but this style just felt appropriate for the intro C: ]

==> Be dead

[folkscallmewander]

[A small orange creature jumps at the screaming and rushes over to the alien that has apparently doubled over in pain. Is it a child? An adult? No matter, Wander is worried and Eridan needs help!]

Are you okay?! [He practically flings himself onto Eridan's back, not that he weights much. It's like a cat clinging onto his back, minus the claws.] Do you need to see a doctor? [he turns back to yell into the building.] Anyone here got medicine?!

Be Dead

[mindseer]

Duuuude! Glob damnit, shut the heck up already! We can all hear you!

[That shrieking harridan sounded off from a debatably familiar face. There were some distinct differences. For one, she looked probably a good sweep and a half older than the last time Eridan had seen her scrawling various epithets in red on the walls of the asteroid or hanging stuffed animals. For another, she had a blindfold on instead of her trademark red shades. For yet another, one of her arms was in a sling and she was tapping away with her cane... ok, that last part was normal.

She looked irritated, but he was shrieking at the top of his lungs, so she felt justified in doing so. That voice was so whiny that she was pretty much dead sure she knew who it was.]

Who invited you here instead of Vris or someone cool!

[...ok, she kind of missed even him. But she wasn't going to say that.]

Arya Stark | asoiaf

[thatsnotme]

❧ seleccting a god house.

It's not small decision, binding herself to a god. She wishes it was a little easier - that the realms they offered overlapped less with pieces of herself that she still holds dear. Some are easy to rule out, some harder: Skadi's traits hold only little interest for Arya, but Sigyn was harder to dismiss.

She circles, conflicted, and finds herself wandering again and again between three: Njord makes her think of the House of Black and White, the Kindly Man and the waif. Not all of those memories are good, but they are true. Poetry is not her forte (though there aren't many left alive from her earliest days to attest to it), but secrecy? She has lived and breathed it since that day in King's Landing, what feels like eons ago.

But what she has been doesn't have to be what she will be; there is enough blood on her hands, isn't there? Nothing could convince her that it's safe to set Needle aside, but she would like to look over her shoulder a little less, to have fewer scars to add to her collection. And if what she wants is to grow past what she has become, then shouldn't she offer her soul to Tyr? Has she not been brave enough, strong enough, to make it all this way - even if this wasn't exactly her destination. His other realm, though...Arya's diplomacy was a meat pie, a stolen face and a dagger in a throat. She doesn't offer diplomacy unless it's deserved, and that feels a contradiction in and of itself.

Maybe she would be more suited to Heimdall's house. He knows the strength of a weapon, after all, and what is Arya if not a sword? Syrio Forel made her one ages ago, removed girl and boy from vocabulary just long enough to teach her that her sword was simply an extension of her own arm. It's a lesson that she's taken to heart, out of necessity, over the years.

Sighing, Arya stops in the middle of the gathering hall, hands on her hips. "This is going to be difficult."

❧ around asgard.

Settled into her house, Arya goes about exploring almost immediately. The Áræði Colliseum is an early find, and she trains there for a little while, though mostly she just stands back to observe others. It's best to know what she's getting into here, and the best way to do that is to watch. She does the same at the Temjask Arena, Needle always on her hip and occasionally in her hand.

When she finds the stables, she stops for a while to see the horses, petting those who are as curious as she is. You might even catch her going for a ride, but wherever she goes, she's watchful and quiet, friendly when she decides she likes the way a person treats those around them. When she decides otherwise, well - there's no reason to start anything, but most people seem to make their first impressions long before they know they're doing it.

around asgard;

[embracethewind]

Like every day, it is common for Souji to go on a training spree with his sword in his instructor gi to the Arena. He also sees himself as an spectator, learning one or two tricks to put into practice to his style when the occasion demands it. What's new to him that noontime is the presence of a girl with western leather attire and a slim and not very long sword. For a swordsmanship lover, her motions were light and graceful to his eyesight.

"As expected, you can handle your grip with that kind of blade. You compensate the lack of strength from your body with the lightness of the sword in a swift-flowing movement." stated as he rests a hand on one side of his waist and the other holds his katana. If only Kamiya could see this example.

around asgard

[thesecutethings]

[ Lizzie finds quite a bit in Asgard to keep her busy. It's the blessing of not being from a more modern time, with TVs and phones-- One had to search out ways to spend their time. For Lizzie, that's helping out in the town. The hands-on part of it had been difficult at first, actually stepping out of her role as a Proper Lady™. But eventually, Lizzie had found herself naturally gravitating toward just helping run simple errands, mostly for the women of the city. It's left her with more treats than usual in 'payment' and with nothing else to do in her afternoon, the girl's made it a habit to give away the small basket of items she's got with her as she makes her way back home.

Lizzie arrives in the stables after Arya, momentarily distracted by a little girl who's toddled in after her upon spying the waning basket of goodies on her arm. She sends her off with a pastry and a warning about running into places filled with large animals, before knotting the skirts of her dress mid-calf so it doesn't get dirty, turning to start feeding the horses the last of her apples. Really, she probably shouldn't. Couldn't horses end up spoiled and refused to work if fed too much? But they seemed so happy at the apples...

Of course, she's got a pair of gloves on because horses might be cute, but their saliva wasn't.

It's clear Lizzie is in her own little world as she coos at the horses because she doesn't even realize Arya's there petting one, not until she's moving to slide over to feed that one, startling a little. ]

Oh--! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize someone else was here...Would you like to feed her?

Selecting a House

[mindseer]

She'd heard that there were new people arriving, so she was at the gathering hall for the festivities. Ok, that was a bit of an overstatement. She'd heard a certain fish troll gassing about idiot things that purple blooded trolls did, and that had tipped her off to others being here. Hoping someone she actually liked had showed up, she made her way in and listened around, a blindfold over her eyes, one arm in a sling and the other holding a cane to tap in front of her as she sniffed around.

"Eh?" she said as she heard a voice speak up. That voice sounded a little familiar... or was it? She started tapping her way over towards Arya, whacking people's shins occasionally with her cane. What? It got them to stay out of her way. Not so good on chairs, but perfect for people. Whack whack. "Yo."

(OOC: Totally forgot to ask - she knew the previous Arya a little, generally liked her. Do you mind her recognizing her? Or prefer a fresh start?)

stables!

[northerndragon]

Since the days of the Dead, since the Night King drove a blade of ice right into his heart, Jon has had little stomach for fighting. The house he and his family are building continues to rise, with walls now and a roof soon, so he spends great parts of his days with a hammer in hand, doing the work of a builder. But whether or not he wishes to fight, there may still be need of it, so he still visits the Arena nearly every day, and the stables, and he swings Longclaw and makes a circle of blades sweep around him, and tries to ignore the sharp ache in his chest.

The horses in the stables look strange, but in his months in Asgard, he’s learned that they’re much like any other horses: some sour, some sweet, most of them a little of both. His favorite is spirited but steady, and leans less sour than most of its fellows.

It is past mid-day when he enters the stable, and he is surprised to see someone standing down by the stall he intends to go to, the horse’s head poking out, the person’s small pale hand on its long face. As his eyes adjust to the light, the familiarity of the figure strikes him, and —

“Arya? Little sister?” He is pleased to see her, almost incredulously so.

He holds his arms out to her.

[Jon is S7 from the neck up; black t-shirt, jeans, and boots from the neck down.]

Violet Baudelaire-ASOUE (Novels)

[invented_misery]

[Too many questions=too few answers]

One minute she was escaping Count Olaf and the next is in a world not her own.

Normally it means discovery but Violet is more worried for her family.

"Too grand a scale to be an Olaf trap, not even he could cook up something like this. Best to be on guard." as she death grips her trusty screwdriver. But she can be talked into at least tucking her weapon back onto her toolbelt.
---
Wild Card

Have Violet will travel!

Puck | Gargoyles

[mightbefun]

[Choosing a god... or chatting with them idek.]

--Hey, I'm familiar with The Everett Interpretation; I get the concept. Alternative universes, different lives, and I'm sure you're all lovely people with no ulterior motives... but just between us: you're positive there's no relation to Big Daddy? Not even a widdle bit? It's the parental tone, you see. The resemblance is - pardon the negative-sounding word here - uncanny,

[says Puck, as he backs out of the room where he has met the Gods, hands oh-so-properly clasped behind his back.]

Great choice not to include Loki, by the way. Never did quite like him.

[He bows - with a big flourish, of course.]

Has Puck sufficiently entertained?
He'll take his leave, then, new shackles having gained.

[Puck, not a fan of his new lovely bracelet with its rouge-coloured jewel? Perish the thought.]

So! [Clapping his hands, he abruptly turns around-- and, what do you know, there you (yes, you) happen to stand.] Shall we bond over our unjust imprisonment? I'm certain that never gets old.

[demonicbeauty]

[The arrival of the new Wanderers is always an occasion. And it's become something of a favorite for Ariadne. She likes to sit somewhere out of the way--unobtrusive--to watch. Reunions are her favorites, of course. But she also loves the colorful parade of strange clothing and customs that go by.

Honestly, she's content to sit in the rafters all day, just observing.

But she isn't quite as used to being observed. And this new arrival isn't quite like the others. Too calm, for one thing. And his bearing smacks of an Alastrian. Which is impossible, of course. But difficult to ignore.

She peers down at him from her little perch, face the same green as the underside of a maple leaf, hair as bright and as blue as candy floss.]

I'm not sure I would call it "imprisonment," sir.

Wander | Wander Over Yonder

[folkscallmewander]

A. Selecting a God House

So! [He sits cross-legged on the table. The seats are too low for him when he's having a nice chat over lunch.] Didja decide on a house yet? All the gods seem awfully nice, but I can't just pick one.

[This orange alien with a southern accent nibbles at a piece of fruit while waiting for a response. Then he decides that he has more to say.]

So...Sigyn and Frigg are real nice, but Odin's pretty cool! But but I can't live in all their houses, can I...

[Anyone would surely love to have him in his house! Shame that everything sounds fantastic.]

Which one are you takin'? [His eyes are beaming at you, his newest friend.]

B. Drykka Drekkr

[There's a lot of temples and parks and houses here, but Wander needs someplace where he can spend hours hanging out with people and also have something to eat.

The bar - the center of nightlife and partylife! Wander has finally gotten his banjo, and with his third-most prized possession in hand, he sets up a small stage near the entrance of the bar with his upturned hat beside him.

First, he has to make up the money that he spent for his beer.]

A. Here Wander, have a true blue princess, crown and all.

[beautyrest]

[Aurora turned her head and then looked... well down, smiling at Wander and how he seemed so polite and sweet. She inclined her head.]

I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss as well, I suppose I find myself drawn to Sigyn but it is as you say, they all seem very kind and all have their reasons.

It does seem a shame only one can be chosen, but I'm sure, whichever one we pick, we will both enjoy our time there. And certainly, any house that receives such a sweet being such as yourself is sure to find a great bounty in your joining them.

Leonard Snart | DCtv

[mypriority]

Leonard took virtually no time in choosing the God to align himself with. He didn't particularly like the idea, but if he had to-- and he did, didn't he? Or die, from the sounds of it. And he's done that already, thanks-- he may as well do so with the God of strategy. It just made the easiest amount of sense.

He isn't sure how much he believes in second chances, he'd sort of already had one of those, joining the Legends, making the sacrifice to save, quite literally, all of time even if his motivations had been vaguely more selfish than that might have sounded. But here he is. Dead, and then suddenly very much not, and told to go frolic and make a life or something.

Settling is something he is not good at, and expects no different in this case, but scoping things out he can do, and does well. He takes note of anything significant, other housing districts, any local businesses that might be around, whatever looks interesting. One might find him somewhere wandering in general, or he might be inspecting some specific place-- and it might look a lot more like casing a theft job to the right sort of trained eye. Old habits die hard and all.

Scott McCall | Teen Wolf

[focusscottfocus]

He'd gotten the spiel, he'd picked a God, been assigned a house, but Scott McCall was still very, very confused. There is no doubt of his confusion as he wanders through the city, trying to familiarize himself with things, either, everything written so plainly across his face. He understands it all on an intellectual level, but it's all just so much. He finds himself wandering a park in the Skadi district looking a little lost to anyone that might come across him.

Kol Mikaelson | The Vampire Diaries

[itchtokill]

There's something incredibly insane about dying engulfed in flames and waking up in a room so white it's blinding, only to discover you're being told to choose a God to align your soul with. Not only a God, but one of the ones you worshiped as a child. Faith long lost, but not ever forgotten. There's a sort of awe in it, honestly, and the choice, while not particularly one he likes for everything that it means, is an honor he can't put into words, still, too. Eventually, he does choose, has to of course, but he does so with careful measure and questions before he decides. He's still a bit on awe as he makes his way through the city to his assigned housing district. He doesn't know how to take what's just happened. He died. He'd have, at best, expected to be stuck on The Other Side, a sort of supernatural purgatory between life and actual death. And yet... here he was, with every single thing he'd known as a child proven truer than any faith he'd had then could have dreamed of. He'd seen them. Spoken to them. Asked them questions. He can't quite fathom it, at this point in his life, really, it's been so long. Yet here he is, wandering an unknown and unfamiliar city (and when's the last time that happened anyway?), in a bit of a shocked stupor at everything that had changed in the last hour or so.

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne really had no business in Nādhirhöll. But something about it was comforting. The wide, open meeting rooms with high windows and wooden chairs were just like the ballrooms of the realm. It reminded her of home. And thinking about home was helping her practice her powers, as of late. Since waking up, feeling funny one morning, she'd managed to go as long as forty five minutes, looking Human in every way. She was hoping to shapeshift for longer, but it was completely exhausting.

It helped to pretend she was at a ball.

In Valeria, fancy parties always found Ariadne tucked into a corner, waiting to run some sort of errand for the princess or her aunt. But she'd traveled enough to take part in a few galliards and pavans. It was then, more than any other time, that she knew it was important to pass for Human.

She tried to reapply that pressure now, spinning around the room with invisible partners, holding the flowing train of an imaginary gown.

Queenie Goldstein | Fantastic Beasts (first movie)

[strudelhoney]

[ Arrival ]

It was quiet.

That was the very first thing she noticed...

The incessant chatter that was everyone's thoughts, the cacophony of noise that was an every moment intrusion on her own thoughts were abruptly gone.

The silence itself made Queenie sob in hesitant relief and fearful confusion. Where were the thoughts? Where were all the people? Was she suddenly all alone in the world? She pulls herself upright against a building, finally taking in what tears had blinded her to.

No... People were here. People were all around her. But their thoughts... Their thoughts were no longer something she shared. The blond takes in a shuddering breath as she wipes at her eyes.

"Okay, Queenie..." Her tone is distinctly New York City, "It's all alright, yeah? We just need to find Teenie and she'll know what to do."

She quickly looks around the road, "O~oh, this ain't looking anything like home," a hand coming up to her mouth so she can lightly chew on her nails, "Looks more like Newt's." Queenie, this isn't at all like jolly old England... Maybe parts of Newt's suitcase.

"What a time to not be able to hear anyone!"

[ Wildcard ]

You'll find Queenie wandering around after getting some answers, so let's meet up somewhere, Asgard!

[thequitecontrary]

Eventually, Queenie makes her way out to the farms in Sigyn's territory, which is where Mary spends most of her time. Today, she happens to be riding one of the eight-legged horses around the property with a small pig running behind her.

Mary almost doesn't see the other woman and she ends up having to rear the horse back quickly so that she doesn't get trampled. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry. Sometimes it's difficult to see from up here."

The horses in Asgard are big and have entirely too many legs.

Melanie King | The Magnus Archives

[ghosthuntuk]

Melanie hates this. She hates every single aspect of this. Being dragged here into this place, against her will. Choosing a God, she feels sick at the thought of it-- her bracelet glows a soft gold as she wanders carefully through the city, though she doesn't personally know it. Far be it from her to let herself die, even if it does put her into another magically binding contract she can't escape. The irony of her chosen God is not lost on her, either-- God of Knowledge. It's laughable, but Odin is the one that seemed to make the most sense for her, though Heimdall was a rather close second. "Got no bloody clue where I'm going," she mutters under her breath, fingers of one hand trailing along the side of what seems to be the outer brick wall of a building. When the wall ends, she's cautious with every step, reaching for whatever may come next to help guide her. She had been fine at home, she was adjusting to her self-inflicted blindness, but this place was completely different than London. She didn't have her flat that she'd learned quite well, considering. She didn't have Georgie to be her eyes when technology couldn't circumvent the problem. Here, she had nothing but darkness and unfamiliarity. And she hated it.

elizabeth swann | potc

[apirateking]

[ Choosing ]

[It was moments ago that she bid an unhappy farewell to Will on the shore of that island. Watching his ship disappear in the flash of green, watching her heart leave her alone for the next ten years... Loneliness gripped at her heart even now, the pang of it almost bowling her over on the bench on which she sat. She could keep in the sob that wanted to tear out of her, the tears held at bay for the moment, trying to keep away the thoughts of now being torn away from home. Away from him.

Elizabeth sat with her head bent for a few more moments, hands gripping the braces devoid of colors that were shackling her here. She'd dealt with unknown magic before, gods of mighty powers, even was thought to be one by one person. She could get through this. She would get through this. For Will's sake and for her own.

The blonde lifted her head and stood up, trying to ignore the wind and cold blowing through the thin layers that was her war clothes' underdress. Really, she would've gotten dressed quicker if she'd known she was going to travel. But she's been to World's End. This cold was nothing compared to that. The thought of that cursed place made her pause mid-step, it felt so long ago but really it was only a few days ago. Her pause is brief though and she's walking up to any Wanderer she spies.]

Excuse me, which god do you think is better? Honir, Mimir, or Tyr?

[She means for herself but... Well, they don't know her. Feel free to confuse it with a random survey?]

[northerndragon]

Jon has business in the castle today, and as such, he's easily accosted by the young woman on his way in. It's cold today, so he has his cloak and his gambeson, but not his armor, and his dark hair is pulled back, so that it doesn't blow across his face and into his eyes.

She would have gotten a second glance from him at any time, because she reminds him of someone -- he can't put his finger on who. Not one of his sisters, not one of the Free Folk, not one of the maids who had been at Winterfell when he was a boy, and not any of them now.

He almost always looks pensive, and that covers the way the hint of familiarity nags at him. That, and her question, which he mulls over for a moment before answering.

"I don't think it's a matter of better -- unless you're asking what they're better for. I don't know much of Mimir. Honir is a good sort. Tyr is the god I chose, in the end, though it was a narrow thing between him and Heimdall.

"Did you just wake up in there?"