test drive 02

[thestewards]

I know dust grows even when there is a breeze
Can't move, can't grow When you've fallen on your knees

► All TDM threads may be considered canon provided both parties agree and are accepted into the game.

► Canon threads may be redeemed for influence and reputation depending on how you solve the issue at hand or how you engage with the prompt. They also count toward AC.

► Feel free to switch up your character's Jewel from thread to thread. Get a feel for how a Birthright Jewel may limit or enhance your character's abilities.

HOT UNDER THE COLLARD GREENS
The relationship between the Blood and the landens has never been easy anywhere, least of all Draega, and even less so now that the Strangers have arrived. Between Blood and landen, opinions on the Strangers vary wildly. Some Blood believe the Strangers were landen in their original worlds and thus cannot possibly have anything to offer, but some landens think this means that the Strangers will be more sympathetic to them—or that landens could gain the power of the Blood one day, too. Then there are the landens who think the Strangers have sold their souls to Queen Fayura to gain the Jewels and the Blood who think the Strangers have embraced what it truly means to be Blood. Whatever that means.

Tensions are high, and they're highest on the main street of the Old Town Bazaar, where two restaurants have an on-going feud. The Last Meal is owned by a Blood family, none of whom wear a Jewel darker than Yellow. Across the street from them stands the mockingly named Blood and Breakfast, owned by a landen family.

To say these two hate each other would be something of an understatement.

On this particular morning, Lord Harle, the Yellow Jeweled owner and chef at The Last Meal, comes storming out of his front door. "You've done it now, Laney Cook! Soured all my milk!"

Simultaneously, Laney Cook, who is the owner and chef at Blood and Breakfast, comes stomping out the front door of her establishment, brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. "Aye, and you've replaced all my sugar with salt, you ripe old bastard!"

Without missing a beat, both turn to you and the Stranger at your side. Wrong place, wrong time, friend. The two chefs decide the two of you can be trusted to help them prove the other party guilty of sabotage because neither of you has a stake in this. And, well, if the Queen brought you here, you should be an independent party. Both Harle and Cook seem to think the Queen is pretty okay.

Truthfully, they're both equally guilty. Lord Harle and Ms Cook have been trying to ruin each other for years, but who knows what you'll find when you go searching for evidence. And even if you find evidence that decides one way or the other, perhaps you'll simply lie and manufacture a solution that suits you—or the Queen who brought you here.


TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S
You're not entirely sure how this happened, but you're starting to understand why Blood females constantly grumble about the caste of males they call Warlord Princes. Prince Loren has, somehow, managed to maneuver you to the place you're at now: the head of a classroom full of Blood children who all look like they're somewhere between the ages of eight and ten. It's hard to tell, and you're pretty sure one bossy little boy declared he was 203-years-old, so everyone else has to listen to him, thanks.

Regardless of how Loren managed to get you there, there you stand. Fifteen energetic elementary school children all wearing Jewels shriek and shout, using Craft to amplify already shrill voices. One girl floats near the ceiling, her face screwed up in concentration as she clutches a Rose Jewel. Two little boys are taking turns passing their hands through their desks, which strikes you as distinctly unsafe for eight-year-olds to be doing. (You're not wrong.)

At least there are two of you, and you only need to babysit these children for the morning. "They're here for Craft lessons. Surely, you can manage until Lady Sheera arrives," Loren had said before abandoning you to a battlefield full of powerful, pint-sized children.

There's a lesson plan on the teacher's desk, but maybe you should lead with the snacks.


REVENGE, SERVED STINKY
The air is crisp and cool; it's still winter, but it's not as chilly as it has been, and so you're out for a walk. You've made your way north through Old Town and now find yourself meandering down the roads in front of the landen Guild Halls. Even though they're all made of red brick, each building is entirely unique. The Hunter and Crafter Hall, the largest of all the buildings, has more in common with a hunting lodge than the university building it once was. The Elektriline Hall might be the smallest building, but it's covered in neon lights and impossible to ignore.

Equally impossible to ignore is Master Tinker Mari and her collection of landen young adults. They're clustered around a storm drain. When Mari sees you, she detaches herself from the group of landen students and bounds over to you. "Ahhah! Stranger! You have been brought here against your will and are surely sympathetic to our cause!" she exclaims.

That doesn't make you feel too great since, you know, you're aware that the Hunter Guild tried to kill all the Strangers maybe two or three weeks ago. They may have mellowed out, or they may just be biding their time. Thankfully, none of Mari's students bear the markings of a Hunter.

She pulls you to the group. Already, canisters have been lowered into the sewers. A handful of students have clambered down after the canisters. "The Blood wouldn't help us repair the damage in Old Town," she says, rubbing her hands together. "Our people's homes were unlivable. So we're going to make their workplace unbearable." She points at the canisters. "Stink bombs."

There's another Stranger in the group, and you make eye contact over the top of the storm drain. Are you of the same mind as each other? As Mari? The choice is yours: agree to Mari's plan and fill the buildings of the Ebon Council with untenable stench or try to convince them there's a better way.


AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you're spinning the dial on your own device, you'll hear…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Today we're talking about everyone's favorite subject.

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Food?

[A laugh from Evandra.] No, Lord Aren. Sex and flirting. Culturally, the Blood don't consider it rude to flirt quite blatantly with each other, even when one or both of the parties is married. Isn't that right?

[Aren:] That's exactly it, Evandra. Older males allow young witches to flirt because it's understood that the male isn't interested or available. He becomes a safe partner for her to practice on, and his approval lets her know what is and isn't acceptable.

[Evandra:] What does it mean if a married male or witch flirts with you?

[Aren:] Casual flirting means that witch or male thinks you're safe. It's their way of telling you they feel comfortable around you. Of course, it's always acceptable to ask them to step back! [He laughs.] As we all know, just because you can flirt with a Warlord Prince's lady doesn't mean you should!

[Evandra:] Let's take a look at casual flirtation between different Blood castes…

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] Warmer temperatures will see melting snow over the next week. Be careful around the Heartsblood River, as the heavy snows will result in flooding along the banks. Need flood insurance? The Transport Guild is looking to expand into…

the news
…amusing to hear that Grand Master Niall blames the Blood for the fires in Old Town. It is my understanding that members of the Blood, these so-called Strangers, went out of their way to rescue both Blood and landen during the fires set by the Grand Master's Hunter Guild. [The man speaking has a slow, clipped cadence to his voice. It's very posh and polished.]

[Another voice, presumably an interviewer:] The Council counts the Strangers as Blood, Lord Grejor?

[Grejor:] What else can they be? They wear the Jewels, therefore they are among our number. [He laughs, and the sound is cold.] The Council is pleased to welcome our new brothers and sisters.

Comments

Tony Stark | MCU | Opal

[houseparty]

TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S

[ Oh. Oh, this is the nightmare scenario. Forget the Mandarin for a hot sec (and ignore the tightness in his chest that thought evokes), all that was relatively straightforward. Locate Bad Guy, turn Bad Guy into greasy smear with extreme prejudice, take Pepper to St Bart's and get her a better Christmas present than a fucking stuffed rabbit. But kids?

Kids are a different brand entirely.

It also strikes Tony, while the urge is just there to ollie on out and leave the wild-hellion-corralling to the poor schmuck he's been assigned with, he needs to cultivate some goodwill. A lot of goodwill. Absent money, influence and favors are their own currency, sometimes with a higher value than any gold could buy.

Suck it up, Tony. ]

You got any ideas, friend, I'm all ear– hey, Farnan, Osben, we do not phase through our desks in this class.

AIR TIME

[ Well, it's no cellphone or radio, precisely, but Tony finds the far-casters charming nonetheless. Hopelessly antiquated, hence why his has its guts spilled out across the table while he swaps the housing for something a little more sleek.

Only idly listening to the news, something in the broadcast manages to catch his attention. Casting around, he points at the first person he sees. ]

Hey. You. Yeah, Stranger, do you know about this?

[ Tap-tap-tap of the screwdriver tip against the little speaker, Lord Grejor's sleek, urbane voice tinny through the connection. Tony leans forward over his work, speaking low. ]

The fire in Old Town. What happened there?

B-B-BONUS ROUND

[ Please PM if you have any ideas for a thread, I'm easy! ]

terrible two hundreds

[stickypete]

[Peter is also not leaving Tony out of solidarity, but boy he wants to. If Tony tries to run and leave him alone with this, he's beating him out the door.]

Do I look like someone that knows how to handle kids?

[Even dressed in new clothes, Peter has a sort of sad sack, old man energy about him, like he spends a significant portion of his day dedicated to deep thought about new places to dig for change in his apartment to buy bus tokens.]

[A child comes at him with sticky fingers, grasping, and Peter actually hops away, landing in a crouch on the teacher's desk at the front. He stays crouched there in a way that would be unnatural for some, looking perfectly comfortable while doing it, cringing away from sticky hands.]

The most I've managed is not causing a teenager to jack-knife off the natural coast he was making towards personal growth, and he was already on cruise control. I didn't even really contribute much to said personal growth. I just managed to avoid screwing it up.

[He holds a hand to his chest.]

And I'm very proud of it. I personally think it was one of my best moments.

[houseparty]

[ Rhetorical or no, god, this guy really shouldn't want Tony to answer that question, not when his filter's only barely in check. The moment passes, punctuated by said Stranger's elegant gymnast's hop onto the desk, and Tony's left in the path of Sticky Hands.

Of course. ]

Hey, hey— yeah that's great, napkin– [ Sticky Hands get a tissue thrust at them, as he's guessing that's what the kid is after. ] I'm not wiping them for you, Short Round; figure it out. [ Goodwill, he reminds himself, and sighs, gesturing the kid back in to half-heartedly swipe at the boy's upturned palms. ] What even is this, do you just naturally produce it like mucus?

[ To his fellow Stranger, he adds, ] So you did the minimal effort and achieved the best result. Sounds like a natural to me.

[stickypete]

I am not a natural, he was a self-righting kid. He'd just bump into something, back up, and get on his merry way. Like a Roomba. [He grimaces at the kid Tony's wrangling.] They're so sticky. Why are they all so sticky? Where's it coming from?

["Ezran brought in jelly tarts," a little girl says cheerfully. A little boy with dreadlocks holds some up towards Peter and Tony in his little jammy hands, offering to share.]

Uh, thanks, kid, but pass. [The kid suddenly looks like he's going to burst into tears so Peter looks skyward, decides his enhanced immune system can take the child germs, and amends his answer.] Okay, one.

[The child walks over and hands him one. He takes it, pops it into his mouth and chews, giving a very fake smile. The kid then proceeds to notice something colorful under his sleeve and tugs at it with sticky hands. "What's that?"]

Buddy, that's not a toy.

[It's red wristband, one that might have looked like an otherwise innocuous chunky bracelet or watch if not for the metal prong extending into Peter's palm. A trigger of some kind. "Pretty!" goes a little girl.]

[Peter shakes his hand away from the boy, and speaks to Tony around a mouth full of tart as he tries to mop sticky jam off this child's hands with a tissue as well.]

I don't think I caught your name, by the way.

[houseparty]

[ Yes, please leap on that grenade for him and take the jelly tart. Tony wraps up with... what was the kid's name, Micah? and finds another set of hands thrust at him, a dutiful chain of sticky-fingered youngsters assembling for both men to deal with.

At least they're quiet now? Silver lining? He plucks another tissue from the box and sits on the edge of the desk, flippant: ]

Palms up. You know you're meant to chew with your mouth, not your hands, right?

[ The boy grins gap-toothed at him, bits of strawberry jelly still stuck in his teeth. Peter's odd bracelet draws his eye for a fraction of a sec when Ezran calls attention to it, a curiosity he intends to ask about. Weapon? Weird Fitbit? A delivery system for...dunno, he needs a closer look.

A small hand, sans jelly, tugs at his sleeve. "CanIhavemilkplease?" the equally small girl asks in a shy, hurried rush, clutching her rose jewel to her chest. ]

What? Breathe, kid, yeah, would you gimme a minute– Tony, [ he adds, distracted, vaguely remembering the tiny, seriously old school icebox under the desk, and the likely source of said aforementioned milk. ] Tony Stark. You?

[stickypete]

Ben Reilly.

[In New York, he can hide in a sea of several million New Yorkers, but not here. With such a small group of Strangers he knew it'd be impossible to hide that the guy in the spider costume was the same guy disappearing every time there was trouble. Since he has a very unremarkable face, he figured the best way to protect his identity was hiding his real name. So it's Ben, for...well, Ben, plus that's his middle name. And Reilly was May's maiden name.]

I'd shake your hand but now mine are sticky, too.

[He leaps off the desk.]

You handle that for a second; I've got an idea. [He turns to the kids, with lots of fake enthusiasm.] Okay, guys, who wants to draw? Do you guys like to draw?

["Yeah!" they cry out.]

Of course you like to draw! You're small, you've got lots of ideas your tiny heads aren't big enough to hold.

I want you guys to all draw the coolest spell you can think of, something you'd like to be able to do someday with your magic. It can be as big or as colorful or as weird as you want. Then you can show us your pictures.

[With a casual flick of his hands he opens the supply closest and levitates paper out of it, swirling it around in a way that actually looks almost graceful, before putting some on every desk. Then he floats boxes of crayons to each desk too.]

[It feels strange, all this casual magic, but his appetite is already naturally voracious and if he doesn't use magic every day, he's found that he's incredibly hungry. It's like it has to be spent or it gets hungry and starts gnawing at him.]

[Drawing time actually sends the kids scrambling to their desks because what kid doesn't love drawing?]

[Peter comes back and sits on the desk next to Tony again, looking out at a classroom that's actually quieting down a little. The kids are still being loud and talking at each other, but there's less hustle and bustle and floating over their desks.]

I can't believe that worked.

air time

[phykios]

[ percy stops, literally mid-step, when tony calls out to him. his eyes go to tony, to that dismembered far-caster, and then back to tony as he asks that question.

well, it's not like he's in a hurry to get back home; so he comes over when beckoned, takes a seat near tony. coming from his job at the docks means he smells more like open water than usual, but also a little fishy. (literally.) (not, like, suspicious.) (unless smelling like ocean air and fish is suspicious.) ]

Yeah, I know about it. The fire happened the same day a lot of us woke up here. [ he frowns then goes on, softer, ] Apparently? The Hunter guild guys found out the queen was bringing us here, and broke into the palace and tried to kill us. That part I can verify, and I can tell you it wasn't a fun way to wake up. After that, they ran, but not before lighting up Old Town to cover their tracks. A lot of us spent all night fighting those fires, not to mention cleaning up and patching up the wounded afterwards.

[houseparty]

[ Crisp, salty air and silvery fish scales, yeah, that's a few notes he notices when Percy strolls on over and sits down. It's hard to tell where he's from originally; if he's even from Earth at all, anywhere post-60's, with a haircut like that.

Tony casually shifts closer, listening intently even as he returns to tinkering with the device. ]

These Hunter guys, they're landen? What's their story?

[phykios]

I only know what the queen told me, [ he admits, drumming his fingers against the table. he'd felt like she was being honest, but that doesn't mean she gave him -- or even had -- the full story. ]

They're landen. Hate all the Blood, so they train to be killers. Since the queen brought us here and gave us those gemstone things, they might think we're close enough. From what I'm getting, I can't really blame them for hating the Blood, but murder still isn't cool.

[houseparty]

[ Lord Grejor's voice is abruptly cut off as Tony pulls the power supply, and sets in on disassembling the device down to its components, replacing a switch here, finessing down the bulk a little where he can. It's all very analog, which presents a challenge all on its own.

He hums under his breath, giving Percy a glance. ]

Mm. Think she's telling the truth? How long have you been here, exactly?

[phykios]

[ tony's apparent inattention doesn't bother him; he's reminded of his friend leo, or his brother tyson, who often keep their hands busy with tinkering. percy, like every demigod, has attention issues and isn't one for sitting still himself. ]

I think she was telling the truth about what she knows. But there's probably more to it than that. [ as for the second question, he shrugs. ] Few weeks. I was with the first group here.

terrible two hundreds

[cryogene]

[Children are the one thing in life that Elsa gets without any anxiety or worry. Her own childhood had been trying but her love for her sister made her embrace all the energy children had to offer. These children are particularly energetic. Elsa is wavering between amused and concerned for the only other adult in the room.

She's in the middle of quietly ushering a small group into their seats when Tony calls out the boys. She remembers being this age and constantly being reprimanded and fearful of things she couldn't control. Maybe there's more control to be found in these children. She approaches them with a deliberate slowness.]

What do you think would happen if your arm ends up stuck?

[Children this age are capable of thinking through their actions. These two boys don't seem like they're willing to cooperate. Elsa looks to Tony. She could freeze their hands to their desks but that isn't the best way to win friends or gain influence.

Maybe I should tell everyone a story about a time I didn't listen and wound up stuck alone in the middle of a castle made of ice.

[Maybe an offer of a story will get them all to quiet down?]

[houseparty]

[ The noise is getting to him, the cacophony of small, shrill voices rising and falling in the classroom, as welcome a sound as nails on a chalkboard. It's the kind of sound that gets under his skin, pushing sharp little barbs into his nerves– ]

What? Yeah. [ Grateful for her suggestion–and curious as well, with a lead-in like that–instead of snapping at the screamers, Tony opts to catch their gaze, shushing with a finger to his lips, and pointedly turning his attention to Elsa. It's...moderately successful, little flickers of uncertainty and interest filling several young faces. A few more children return to their desks, and both boys hesitate between phasing their hands again, somewhat dubious. Where is this going? Will it be more interesting if they keep testing their jewels?

It's pretty last-ditch, but he'll go all in just for any slice of peace right now. Clearly playing along, encouraging his partner-in-child-hell, Tony folds his arms over his chest, affecting a kind of faux-skeptic's drawl. Comic Book Guy, maybe, if he were aggressively handsome and wearing a navy blue sweater over a club collar shirt. ]

Yeah, but it wasn't really made entirely of ice, was it?

TERRIBLE TWO(HUNDRED)S

[thequitecontrary]

[ This is absolutely a nightmare scenario. Despite being a mother, Mary does not particularly like children. They can be loud and messy, especially the more of them you get in a room together. Her child is moderately well-behaved, but she cannot speak for these. They're already starting to get restless and Mary is looking anxious. ]

Some sort of... game, perhaps? [ That's what children like, right? ]