farsickooc | Test Drive Meme #1

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*test drive meme

Test Drive Meme #1

Welcome to Fernweh's Test Drive Meme! Do you have an interest in joining the game? Need to make sure the setting works for you and your character first? Or have you made the decision to join the game and need fresh samples for your application? Whatever the reason, feel free to use the scenarios however you wish.

You know what to do! If you don’t, just follow the instructions.

How To Play:

→ Comment with the character you would like to test drive (duplicates are allowed)
→ Choose a scenario or start your own
→ Tag around
→ Have fun!

SCENARIOS

01. Arrival

You have been sitting and staring at the sign above you for some time now, lost in a blur of swirling questions that seems to start with how you ended up there; in a place (and time, maybe) that you know you weren't an hour earlier. Or maybe you're an old hand at this by now and you've figured out that this is simply another stop that the multiverse bus has made. So why not get off and look around a little?

At any rate, the sign points you towards the direction of a place called "Gazin", which looks like a decent-sized town from where you stand. There has to be someone who can explain.

02. Around Town

So, you've settled in. Well, mostly. At least you know where things are without taking too many wrong turns and ending up in the less desirable areas of town. But now you can go about your day. Visit the market, check out the local shops or have a drink with a new friend at one of several inns.

03. Exploring

You've heard people talk about some pretty interesting places and now you're itching to get out and find them. Be careful though, there are creatures and monsters out there that will be pretty interested in meeting you and may wish to have you for its next meal. Better take someone along. And maybe some weapons, too. Make sure one is made of silver.

04. Monsters

So, you managed to find that location you were looking for. Good for you! Only.. it seems you've also found one of the native creatures to the area and you now face to face with it. Um. Good luck! We'll see you when you get back!

Hopefully.

05. Celebration

It won't take long for you to figure out that people of Gazin are, all in all, pretty happy people. It shows, too, when a seemingly quiet evening suddenly bursts into a random, impromptu party to celebrate whatever good fortune has touched a person. Name Days, good harvests, betrothals, weddings, or just life in general.

Sing, dance, drink and be happy, too!

06. Wild Card!

Want something else? Feel free to choose your own adventure or mix and match to create something completely different!

NAVIGATION

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01. Arrival

Geralt of Rivia is typically a calm guy, though he is also often grumpy and finding himself in an unknown place by way of unknown means is only adding to his irritation. Not to mention he's without either of his swords and that alone leaves him feeling not particularly friendly if someone else happens to be close-by and wanting to chat.

Amber eyes look ahead and then slowly move behind him, sure he would spot the leftovers of an active portal which would solve the puzzle of how he got there. But spotting the violet-eyed sorceress, who might still be mad at him for his last wish, wasn't much of a success. He didn't even have a horse. Well, not yet, anyway.

Letting out a long, deep, grumbly sigh, Geralt starts his walk towards the city where he hopes to get some answers.

05. Celebration

The longer Geralt is there, the more he could close his eyes and imagine himself in Novigrad or Vizima, giving a sense of familiarity in a small way. He's spent the last few days since arriving quietly getting to know the area, listening in on conversations that have to do with "pest" control and the odd regaling of a patron's tale of when he came face to face with a monster! It was one of the better tales he'd heard, but it still made his eyes roll.

When the music picked up and the celebration began, Geralt remained in his corner, drinking his pitcher of ale while looking every bit the part of someone who wanted to be left alone. Of course, that didn't stop some of the females from wandering over...

Edited 2020-01-02 18:09 (UTC)

Cassandra feels much like he does, in the preferring to be left alone. But it’s rather difficult with the celebrations going on around them. All she wants to do is sit and eat and drink in peace... After the third time she has to slip out of someone’s reach or sidle out of their way there is a spate of swearing running silently through her head. Pelor she just wants to sit and eat and breathe without someone constantly seeing if she’d like to dance or like some company. (No, no she does not.)

The sight of him, sitting in his corner with his ale looking like she feels, with more than one woman making their way over to him with predatory gazes in their eyes, gives her an idea. A way to possibly kill two birds with one stone and perhaps get them BOTH left alone for the moment. If he goes along with it. How she wishes Ceres had gifted her with telepathy.

So she wends her way gracefully through the inn, easily reaching his table before the women who have set their eyes on him, giving him an easy, familiar smile as though they actually know each other. “There you are,” she says, settling into the chair opposite him and setting her ale and plate of food down on the table. “I couldn’t find you for all the celebration going on.” Her sharp blue-eyed gaze shifts to the women who have finally sidled up to the table, arching an eyebrow as if to ask them ‘need something?’. With a touch of 'Do you mind?'

Between the third and fourth women that came over to proposition him, Geralt had made the decision to try his best to quietly disappear. But as luck would have it, one boisterous female was already heading his way, smiling big to show off several missing teeth. A groan sounds low in his throat while he closes his eyes, knowing that there was simply no more patience left in him to maintain even an iota of civility.

Taking a deep breath, the Witcher reopens his eyes to find someone else sitting in front of him; someone far more beautiful and who had all her teeth. Yet, he stares, more than a little confusion in the amber eyes that are narrowed on the woman across from him. He looks at the other over her shoulder and then back at her. He fakes a smile and nods, clearly not sure how to play this little game. When the toothless woman retreats, Geralt looks at Cassandra, returning with a look of his own.

One that asked why did you do that?

Once the toothless woman who had had her sights set on him has left to seek out other targets Cassandra turns her attention to the man seated across from her. White-haired, amber-eyed, and terribly striking (handsome, the word is handsome). And looking at her as though he’s wondering why she’d done it. Which only makes sense. She is a stranger, after all.

She exhales softly and gives him a small smile. “My apologies for intruding. But it seemed the best way to try and keep your... ‘admirers’ at bay. They didn’t seem to be getting the hint.” Her gaze shifts to one of the men who had been trying his damndest to proposition her. “And I hoped that it would help keep mine at bay as well.” If she’d had to avoid one more hand trying to touch her without invitation she was going to be driven to punching someone.

Cassandra's plan had worked well enough, redirecting both groups of wooers that were trying so hard to be the ones to leave with them that evening. Geralt's eyes follow her's to the male standing at the bar and who was now pursuing the toothless woman. He can't help but think that they should have found each other first, but perhaps this was fate's doing.

His expression softens in understanding, though there's an uncertainty of where to go from there. Talking isn't his strong suit, yet, Geralt doesn't want to be rude and get up and go like he had been planning to do almost as soon as he arrived. This woman, however, seems to have him momentarily forgetting those plans.

"Seems it's working," he replies, picking up the pitcher of ale to pour another half glass and then taking a large swallow before continuing. "Are you among the recently arrived, too?"

Once again, small talk was not one of his strengths.

Once Cassandra is sure that it’s worked, and sees that both their admirers have been utterly distracted (and with each other, which would have saved them both a great deal of trouble if they’d just done that from the beginning), she relaxes just a little, truly so, not the air of relaxation she’d been wearing as part of her ploy, settling more comfortably in her chair.

That he’s not leaving immediately is... unexpected, and she finds she’s perhaps a touch more pleased by that fact than she should be.

“For the moment anyway,” she responds with an amused, wry smile. “And I will gladly take the reprieve. However long it lasts.” Sometimes that’s all you can do. She takes a large swallow of her drink before answering his question. “I am, yes.” She’d thought he was similar; perhaps it’s just her having become accustomed to travelling between worlds, or perhaps it’s something about him, but she’d had a feeling. “It seems we’re in the same boat, then.”

Introductions are in order, of course. More so given her ploy. It will be easier to pick up again in the future should they need to if they actually know each other’s names. And they may be here for quite some time. It might be... nice, to have a friend. “I’m Cassandra.”

The expression on his face is one of agreement, eyes quickly darting back towards the two at the bar who seemed to be getting cozier as the seconds wore on. Geralt didn't plan on giving them another look after that, choosing to focus on the drink in front of him and the same-boat company who was now introducing herself.

Not much of a people person, the Witcher was mindful of good manners, more so with someone who is treating him pleasantly like Cassandra is, even if his tone suggests otherwise.

"Geralt," he answers, leaving out where he's from because it doesn't exactly matter if she doesn't know where Rivia is.

There are a few moments of awkward silence and somehow he feels Jaskier is shaking his head in pure utter embarrassment, though the bard could be laughing, too.

Her evening has vastly improved already, between the company and not having grasping hands and unwelcome propositions hounding her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Geralt,” she tells him, and it’s spoken honestly. She means every word of it.

The silence isn’t as awkward as he might think it is; conversation ebbs and flows and when with someone you’ve only just met... well, it happens. And sometimes it’s nice to sit in silence. Although she is curious. “What do you think?” she asks. “Of this place we’ve found ourselves in.”

This? This was nothing like what she was used to. Like New York or even freakin' L.A., which was always a bit of a shit-show full of hippy-dippy stuff, as far as she was concerned. Any city that had coffee colonics and places that would cleanse your lady bits with crystals was a fucked-up place, as far as Jessica was concerned. But then, Jessica thought a lot of shit was too touchy-feely, and a bar with booze and a quiet corner to hide herself in was the kind of speed she could be happy with.

That being said, she couldn't help but notice the steady fluttering of the female parties around the men that sat here and there. Over there was a bear of a man, who looked like he might be part actual bear, beard included. He had two women on his lap and was having a good time. Another corner had some rock'n'roller type; blonde hair and a smile and weird velveteen duds that the one on his lap couldn't stop petting. The other corner had some older guy, long greyish-white hair and a surly look on his face. But he looked solid. Sturdy. not quite as old as that hair would imply. And she watched women flit over, then flit off. Then flit over. Then flit off. Curious, because it seemed like this whole thing was just a rude escape from reality for her, she got up with a pitcher of something that was harder than beer or 'ale', and a mug she was sipping from. Then she went over and sat across from him, setting both objects down, pouring herself a glass, then sipping from it as she watched him over it. A quick glance over what she could see of him, then she met eyes that were like someone had taken them out of a tiger and popped them in a human face. Gold. And he looked younger up close than he had from further away. "So, you seem happy to be here. Even happier than me, if that's possible." That? That was sarcasm, Geralt.

And Geralt is well versed in sarcasm and can take it as well as give it.

His lips press into a thin line, the corners barely lifting in what most would call a fake, but courteous smile; the same smile he's been giving all night, though he's been around now long enough to be able to tell apart the ones that showed up like him from the civilians who have always been there. But there's something about the raven-haired woman sitting across from him that reminds him a little of Yennefer, if only by that sarcasm with which she's speaking.

"You have no idea," he answers, stonefaced. "You must have missed me jumping around and singing jovially at the top of my lungs."

"Yeah, well, you fit in better here than I do." And that? That was just fact. She looked as out of place here as a bull in a china shop, and could probably do just as much damage. She sipped her drink, hearing the tone that almost reminded her of home. Ah, fuck'off-ism. A true state of New York. "Glad I missed the singing part. You sound like you gargle with rocks."

Fact or not, the people in Gazin were well aware of who belonged and who didn't. The citizens were a bit more cautious around the strangers that landed in their town, the ones who dressed oddly and who had a manner of speech that was unlike anything they had ever heard.

There was almost a smile in reply. Almost.

"Hm. Suppose I would take that over sounding like I have something stuck my nose."

"Yeah, well, there's reasons I don't sing." A shrug. Jess was the last person to get offended at someone swiping back when she'd made the first comment. Or any comment, really. Perceptive asshole.

She took another sip, eyes glancing to her left as a small tussle broke out at the next table. "At least some things stay the same." A bar was a bar, and in bars, fights broke out.

As much as he wants to laugh, Geralt keeps a straight face and regards her then glances over to the two hollering back and forth loudly at what the Witcher ca only assume is how the story really went. A scene he's seen far too many times to count.

"In your world and in mine," Amber eyes don't flinch when a fist slams down on the table surface and each man gets up, yelling in each other's face.

If someone didn't throw a punch in the next 5 seconds, he'd be surprised.

At this point, the fight was inevitable, and Jessica shifted in her seat a bit, leaning an arm on the table. She glanced at Geralt, then back at the fight. "My money's on the Porky."

Because what better to do during a bar fight than bet on it? Not like she was concerned about being a bystander. She'd been in this kind of atmosphere for too long. It was the only comforting familiarity in this fucked up place so far.

A sorceress is used to commanding a certain level of power. Control over the world around them can be something of an obsession maybe, as if every solution is simply a spell away. Therefore, when one sorceress finds herself at the mercy of some mysterious force—something which has chosen to portal her right next to this fucking sign, well.

She's not happy. That's never good.

"Who the fuck thought this would be humorous?!" That angry voice echoes across the land around her, an ominous portent of violence and death. She'll find whoever did this, and peel out their insides!

But first, the humiliating practice of picking herself up, dusting off her black dress, and finding a way to the nearest city. Whatever local peasant happens to cross her path in the meantime will probably be out of luck. In all of this immediate fury, of course, she fails to see Geralt, already some paces ahead.

Edited 2020-01-05 22:04 (UTC)

Geralt has made it a few hundred yards away from the sign he arrived at and down a small incline before he hears the curse in a voice he's all too intimately familiar with. Instantly he stops, glances downwards and to the side to hear better. Could he be hearing things? Was it really her? So, he turns and heads back.

"I could ask the same," he started, pausing only long enough until her eyes find him before shrugging. "But the fact you're asking means I'm not here because you're still upset."

He's not coming any closer. Not with how angry she is.

Oh, isn't she?

The taught muscles along her jawline might suggest otherwise. Yennefer pins him down with a questioning gaze—of course he'd find her. That's how this whole damn thing works, doesn't it? Not simple luck, nothing so dismissive like a stray coincidence.

"You think I'm so dull-witted to consider this," she gestures to the foreign land around them, "a fitting punishment, Geralt? Please, whoever has done this obviously is lacking in both taste and judgment."

She sighs heavily. There's a wish to stay angry at him, and rightfully so! And yet, regardless of this, the longer she watches him, the more her anger simmers down to a manageable annoyance.

"Come on," she says, walking toward or perhaps past him. "I don't trust you to wander here by yourself."

He didn't think it was a bad place, all in all. In some places during certain parts of the day, he may even mistake it for Vizima or Beauclair, enough that he doesn't feel completely out of place. Or, at least, not nearly as much as some of the other arrivals have, wearing what they were.

Geralt can't help but smile at how beautiful she is and when she's close enough, he can smell the lilac and gooseberries that is practically torture for him now.

"You don't trust me? Is that to say that you think my temper runs hotter than yours?" Geralt replies, tone very much amused at the irony of her comment.

If she does walk past him, a hand comes out to catch her arm gently.

"So, does that mean you're not upset anymore?"

She lets herself be caught. It would be easy enough to escape Geralt's grasp, or inflict on him some fitting magical punishment. Yennefer entertains some thought of it, briefly, but here she is instead.

In arm's length. It's got to be dangerous for one of them, at least—this sudden flush of sensation that's both pain and pleasure. "I think it means we have more important matters to attend to," she says, sidestepping the question.

Away from him she'd likely have a better answer, but here. Yennefer does herself the disservice of looking up at Geralt finally, her violet eyes searching his. Too many questions and never enough answers.

(It's warm, his hand on her arm.)

"And as it stands, I only trust you to get into some unknown danger, should it suddenly present itself." She can, after all, be both irritated and worried.

Geralt knows not to underestimate her, yet he also doesn't feel that Yennefer would take the steps to deliver retribution now when she could have done it back at King Niedamir's mountains upon discovering his last wish. That didn't mean that he was convinced a punishment was off the table.

His smile disappears, though his gaze remains locked on hers for only as long as it takes to make the conclusion. "I'll take that as a yes then."

Releasing his hand from her arm, Geralt glances back towards the sign and then off towards Gazin, squinting then to the far left and back around again.

"So, shall we head towards the town or do you think there's too much unknown danger?"

Geralt looks serious enough but there's a certain glint of playfulness in his face.

Or some of the males. One in particular who had finished a glass of liquid courage before making his way over. He understood the body language, sitting in the corner, the complete 'leave me alone' vibe. He'd perfected it himself, but it had never kept the bullies away for long.

He hadn't been staring. Mostly. But he couldn't ignore the one person who seemed to stand out more than anyone else. At least, for him. And then Sebastian found he had to do something about his inability to look away. Jack would have encouraged him to socialize so that was what he was going to do.

"You have beautiful eyes."

That was not the plan. He was suppose to say 'hello' and introduce himself properly, like normal people do when they are interested in talking to strangers. But he'd opened his mouth and said the one thing he'd been thinking.

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Test Drive Meme #1

Geralt of Rivia | The Witcher (Netflix)

05. Celebration

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/dies laughing

They're fluent in sarcastic cynicism.

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Sebastian | OC | Celebration