pathemaooc | Test Drive #2

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Test Drive #2

ARRIVAL: Your character wakes up in a temple completely naked except for the collar around their neck. Near the spot they wake up is a pile of clothing that is NOT what your character was wearing before they woke up. When they unfold the clothing they will find it's a toga and that there's a pair of sandals under it. Too bad, that's all there is. The sound of bells soon fills the temple, drowning out the noise of chatter and panic, drawing your attention to the statue in the center of the temple before a loud, booming voice fills your head:

Welcome, Honored Guests. I trust you’ve found everything easily enough. You may consider your Toga a token of my generosity and I trust the footwear will be more than sufficient;

Now I’m certain that you all have many questions, so perhaps you’ll permit me to explain.

I, Eros, Son of Ares and Aphrodite, God of Love and Sexual Desire, have brought you to Pathema for a very simple purpose. I offer you sanctuary from the trials and tribulations of your all too dreary existences and in return, I ask only one thing of you.

Your devotion.

I have seen how reluctant you creatures can be when it comes to matters of the flesh, and so I have ensured that all of you shall have the proper encouragement.

Surely you must be aware by now that each of you have been fitted with a collar. I wouldn’t try and remove them if I were you. Your petty magics, or force, will do little more than cause them to tighten I’m afraid.

Over a period of fourteen days, your collars will tighten. I’m told it’s a terribly uncomfortable experience and I wouldn’t suggest you push your limits but you mortals are rather a stubborn lot. Still, never let it be said that I didn’t try to warn you.

Now if at the end of those fourteen days, you have still refused to show your devotion to your God? You will simply cease to exist.

Oh, come now. I am not a cruel and capricious God. You’ll be permitted to return to your previous state of existence, for the mere price of something that you hold dear. A memory of those trivial times from before you were brought to your new home

Ah, yes. I do believe I have your attention now, don’t I?

But of course, how can you, mere peasants, show your God how much you adore him? I should think the answer is very simple, don’t you? I am the God of Sexual Desire after all.

SPRING FESTIVAL: Flowers are in bloom, birds are singing their love songs, and the residents of Pathéma are celebrating the arrival of Spring! Stalls of flowers can be found in the market place, fresh pressed juices and berries are sold and everyone feels more friendly than usual.

At night, bondfires are lit on the beach, and tables of food from your world are displayed alongside food from foreign places. Music is played all night long, and dancers pull strangers to join them, while the fire breathers put on a show for all to see. At midnight, fireworks light up the night skies before the party rages on until the sun comes up.

Blankets are available all over the beach, some giving more privacy than others...

NETWORK: Everyone is provided with a communication device that gives them access to an island-wide network. These can be used for so many things! Send pictures of the drunk guy at the bar, your boobs or whatever you want!!

WILDCARD: There are forests, mountains, marketplaces, all sorts of places to go and explore on the island. Ideas for settings can be found on the locations pages!

**TDM threads can be used as your sample in your application! It can also be considered in game canon if it is agreed on by all characters involved in said threads.

//LINKS// Game FAQ // Rules // Taken // Reserves // Application // Full Navigation // Network // Logs // Info // OOC

CODED BY TESSISAMESS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ooc: omg hi. I am SUPER EXCITED for shenanigans. ]

[ He likes to take a look on the network every so often, just to see what's going on around the island. And this time, just hearing Peggy's voice was enough for him to almost drop the device before he manages to catch it, not seeing the photos that ended up on the network ]

Peggy? [ Wow Rogers, so eloquent. And he's a bit different from the last time she saw him, with a 2014 style haircut and not the 1945 era one he sported before he flew into the ice in Greenland. And she looks like she did in '45, not the Peggy he found in 2014. How awkward. ]

Did you just get here?

[That's impossible, this is impossible. It appears that along with being forced into a collar and robbed of her clothing, this god of sexual desires is also keen to torture Peggy with dead men who've broken her heart]

Steve? I don't understand, how can you be here?

[He doesn't even look the same, which confounds her and makes her wonder if she's gone and lost her mind. Perhaps there is no collar, perhaps there is no strange statue and god, maybe Peggy has simply snapped completely, but if it brings her Steve looking as handsome as he was the last time she saw him, then maybe it's not such a bad thing]

If by 'get here', you mean kidnapped. [Never were bitter words more spoken] Are you really him?

Same way you showed up. One day sleeping in my apartment, next thing, I'm in the temple and handed a dish towel. [ he stops, and makes a face as he blushes. ]

Let me back it up a little. I didn't die in '45. I just took a long nap in the ice. Woke in 2012. [ he winces at that. He's doing so well. ]

Your apartment. Somehow, I'm going to take a guess and assume that it wasn't aboard the Valkyrie. [This is all beyond impossible, how can Steve be here?]

You took a nap, in the ice. Then you woke up in the future. [Repeating everything is going to do no one any favours, but the truth is that Peggy's a little too stunned to do anything else right now. For one, she's still trying to convince herself that Steve is actually talking to her]

Steve. You're alive? [She's not crying, she's really not, it's just that her eyes are a little blurry, so it's lucky that she angles the device away from that, avoiding that weakness being seen]

Last I checked, yes. [ he grinned at that. ] Look. Where are you? I'll be there. Unlike at the Stork Club. Sorry for not showing up for our date. I didn't think no one would not find me for sixty-seven years.

[Where is she, indeed? And does she really want to see Steve again wearing this awful bloody collar and a strangely fitting sheet? Still, if the alternative is not seeing him, then she already knows the answer. Turning the device, she shows Steve the area around her, spinning slowly]

If you know where I am, you can find me here.

[There are so many things to tell him, but not like this, not only a tiny screen when she wants to see him again and feel the warmth of his presence and know that he's alive. There's hope in her voice and in her eyes, trying not to appear desperate, but it's a lost cause]

Hurry?

[ Oh he knows where she's at, he's mapped the island in his head. ]

I know where you are. I'll be as fast as I can.

[ And after a little while, Peggy will be able to spot Steve, dressed in a blue shirt, sleeves rolled up and jeans, looking very modern, yet still Steve, even with a leather collar around his throat, the clasp a smaller version of his shield. And of course, he's got his shield on his back, just as proof that yes, he's alive and Steve. And he looks nervous yet happy to see her. ]

There's a rather impatient set of moments in which Peggy is left standing out on her own, absently trying to get her necklace-like collar (which feels rather like her usual one, but thicker in chain and certainly tighter) to loosen, trying not to be beaten down by the people staring at the strange woman in a sheet waiting in public. She sees the shield first and it takes nearly everything to suppress the pained cry in her throat, recalling the first time she'd seen it.

She still remembers the bullets. She manages to dig her heels into the ground, unable to trust herself wholly, and she proves herself right as she drifts towards Steve, reaching out tentatively with a hand until it comes into contact with his chest.

"You really are here," she says, scanning his face with wonder, a painful contracting feeling like a vice settling over her heart. "Steve," she manages, his name heavy with grief.

Steve looks down at Peggy's hand, remembering the time she touched him after the procedure, not quite believing he actually made it through the painful process.

He presses his lips together and pulls Peggy in for a hug, not quite sure what to do for an upset Peggy, except let her know that he's real and he's there.

"I'm here, Peggy," He manages, voice rough, his throat thick with unshed tears. This was the reunion he hoped for when he woke up, well, besides the collars and togas, and the whole sex to stay alive thing, and then. Oh. Nat. This was going to be a mess. At least. He's still learning about women, but he was very sure there was going to be some sort of reaction and not in a positive way. Well. Once they were someplace where they could talk in privacy, he'll tell her. And maybe this time she won't shoot at him.

This could be very bad. The instant Steve hugs her, Peggy isn't sure that she's going to be able to let go, but at the same time, she's going to take advantage of it. With the sandals, she has none of the additional height her shoes had given her, so when she curls in and slides both hands under the shield to hold onto him, she can turn her cheek in order to take a deep breath, the smell of him as real as the feel of him, which is something she still can't believe.

"You went down on the Valkyrie, I kept pleading, I kept thinking maybe he's going to come back, maybe it will all be fine, but I went to the Stork Club," she admits, her lips brushing his neck as she pulls back, though she doesn't let go of him. "You weren't there," she points out the obvious, the words hollow and heavy.

"Where on earth did you manage to get proper clothes?" she asks, trying to keep herself from utterly breaking down. "This toga is ridiculous."

And to think, she used to tower over him. Steve's slow to let her go, a slight shiver running through his body as the feel of her lips on his neck, but it wasn't polite to linger. That would be for later. And he's usually pretty clueless, but he can tell a topic change when it shows up in bright neon letters.

"Found them in my house. Yours should be in the house they gave you. The being in charge's mother made him give us proper clothes." Steve grinned at that. "My toga was sized for when I was smaller. I'm sure that would have made for an interesting meeting."

There's distinct interest at what that might look like, though there are other more important things. Still, best not to let that completely out of mind. "Was someone clever enough to take pictures?" she wonders, though she gives Steve a mildly chiding look. "I've seen you with your shirt off, Steve."

"Besides," she says, looking just to the side of him as she speaks, "if you didn't already know, my torch for you started long before you entered Erskine's experiment," she remarks, as though this is simply off-hand information. "Perhaps whatever god rules this place also appreciated you in your original form."

Steve looks mildly alarmed at that thought. "I hope not. That would be a little awkward." Then Peggy speaks again, and it was a war between the butterflies in his stomach and his heart leaping into his throat. He coughs a little, clearing it, then Steve huffed a short laugh.

"Would have wheezed myself to death even before the collar snapped. Not very useful that way for the purpose of being here."

This is the awkward aspect of all of this. She has so many questions she wants to ask Steve, but she's caught with continuously adjusting an awkward sheet that offers no support, she's trying to understand where she is, but mostly, she just wants to keep staring at Steve Rogers, alive and well, standing right here.

"Do you mean that incessantly annoying voice that trumpeted on and on in my head when I arrived?" she huffs, adjusting the strap of her sheet when it slips off her shoulder again. "Steve, I don't understand so much," she confesses. "Is this place safe? Secure?"

Rogers, you better help Peggy, or she's going to flash the island. Heaven help you then. He reaches out to adjust the strap, pulling the cloth tighter before securing the pins. His hands rest on her shoulders, warm against bare skin.

"Safe in that so far the only problems has been people arguing with Eros. He's the one who spoke in our heads. And secure? We're on an island. The only ones here either wear collars that can't be removed, or they're natives."

Steve sighs. "I can walk you to the house they assigned you. Your clothes will be there. Then we can talk better. Too many unknown ears."

Peggy's reaching up to do the same when Steve goes to help with her strap, her fingers brushing against his. He's warm and solid, as firm as the rest of him, which means that there isn't much chance that this is part of one of her vivid dreams. Then again, she never has dreamt of being collared and in a toga before Steve.

"Let's go to this house," Peggy agrees after trying to determine if there's a better course of action, but the allure of clothes is far too powerful. Unfortunately, walking does mean relinquishing his warm hand at her shoulder, but she has to hope the disappointment isn't too evident on her face.

She'd gotten so good at hiding her feelings, but a few minutes around Steve and it's like that skill has washed utterly away.

"It's on your device. The directions. And it's left a lot to be desired. Basics. And no electricity or running water. But we've had worse, hmm?"

Steve says, with a small grin, before he gets brave and reaches for her hand. He didn't want to stop touching her, either, but they were in public.

Peggy is in the middle of turning her device around to search for directions when she feels Steve reach out for her hand. It takes her aback by how simple and small and lovely a gesture it is, all the words struck from her lips. She might have made a comment about the week in the New York sewers and how nothing could compare, she could have cited Bastogne, and she might have teased about France being uninhabitable if Dernier were around.

Instead, she's gaping at Steve and threading her fingers with his, the touch so sweet that it makes her want to cry. How often might they have done this if there hadn't been a war? If not for Hydra? Swallowing the lump in her throat, she finds courage and steps a little closer, not letting go of his hand, but twisting so she's in his circle of personal space where he can look at her screen.

"There," she says. "Apparently, I have a house."

Not often Peggy Carter is struck speechless, and to have it because of him? Steve's confidence grows and he's smiling before he notices that oh, she's really close, and she's not as tall as before, and eyes on her eyes Rogers, no peeking. Unless she says you may.

Steve gulps a little, and looks at the device, glad for the distraction before he lost his mind and kissed her.

"I know where that is." He says, his voice a little husky before he clears it, licking his lips anxiously. He dipped his head before he completely talked himself out of not doing it, leaning in for a kiss.

Peggy's still fidgeting with the device, but when she looks up to ask him where, she's caught off guard by Steve kissing her. She sways back before she catches herself, refusing to let any body language imply she doesn't want this, absolutely. With her free hand, she slides her splayed fingers up his chest to use his shirt as leverage to bring herself in for a kiss that's more desperate than she wants it to be, but she cannot help it.

She's had one kiss with him that had been too brief and rushed and if he really is here and alive, she refuses to let him get away from her. She stops herself when she's on her tiptoes, pursuing the kiss into something deeper, but only because they're still in public and the strap of her toga is falling again.

"Steve," she gets out, dazed and trying to get her wits about her. "Careful what you start," she murmurs, with the implication in her words that she's not going to let him stop.

He was slow to pull back when Peggy speaks, and he's still a little dazed himself. Steve blinks, his eyes dark blue, then he smiles, a slow curving of his lips.

"And what if I was starting something?" He fiddles with her strap again, then his hands slip down to her hips before he steps back.

"But not out here. Come on, I know where your house is." The implication is clear, that at the very least he was going to continue what he started.

The man she loves has come back from the dead to torture her, it seems. Flustered when he replies with much more charm than she's used to from him, she steps forward only to pull back when he does. It's likely for the best to allow some space between them, but those lovely hands of his are so tempting. They had been before the serum, so lithe and long, expertly wielding a pencil.

"Yes, that's a prudent idea," she agrees, clearing her throat to clear out the pesky arousal that's weighting it down at least an octave. "Then you can explain to me how any of this is possible."

He never died. Tried his damned best, though. But he's learned a little charm.

Steve nodded, hearing that sharp note of command in her voice. "I shall endeavor to give a full report, ma'am." He sketches a salute, then points in the direction they needed to go.

"That way, Peggy."

Once Peggy turns, she'll find that Steve rests a warm hand over her lower back.

The touch is so wanted and foreign. They couldn't dare do this during the war, both because there were more important things, but also Peggy didn't dare invite the comments from the men. Still, she'd always found herself dreaming about it in New York, especially when she found herself in Brooklyn, wanting to feel Steve's hand just like that as he told her more about the alleyways he'd become so aware of.

She leans back into the touch, feeling rather awkward with her hands as she folds them in front of her, holding tightly to the device as she stares at the instructions, following them and Steve's direction until they reach a little house. "It's not as bad as I expected," she confesses, but perhaps she has a habit of being pessimistic (or realistic, as she'd say).

"Better than a tent, at least. And not that bad in the heat," Steve says, enjoying the fact that he could actually touch Peggy like he hoped and dreamed about. And she didn't forget him.

"Water comes from a well, fire is the only way to cook, or heat water. But there's some furniture. And your clothes." He jerked his chin at the door.

"May I?"

Test Drive #2

network

yesssss, I am being tempted, I cannot lie

/tempts

(so weak, so likely to do it)

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if you want to prose their face to face, I'll match

--> action (yes pls!)

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