pathemaooc | Test Drive #1

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Test Drive #1

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. Perhaps your character is curious and leaves the temple or maybe they activate their device (accidentally or on purpose).

TOGA PARTY: Eros thinks that a party is what's needed to welcome everyone! This event is held on the beach in the Second District and everyone is welcome! Just be sure to wear your toga (HAHA)! There are large silk tents that are filled with pillows for characters to lounge on. There's food (think Greek) and lots to drink! Eros wants everyone to have fun and get to know each other! So eat, drink and mingle!!

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.

CODED BY TESSISAMESS

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[It's not that this is the least clothed he's ever been in his life, given that there are any number of Parisian men, women, and animals that can attest to his body after seeing it with little to nothing on, thanks to a lot of alcohol, but the sheets here are short for a man like Porthos.

Raising a brow, he catches sight of a familiar face trying to chat up the person beside him, commenting on the vintage like he actually knows something about it. Waiting for the opportune moment, he crosses the beach and smiles pleasantly at their brand new friend until they find it awkward enough to want to leave, at which time Porthos gives Aramis an amused smirk]

Fine vintage?

[Honestly, he's heard worse, but he's got high expectations at this point.]

He's picked up something square and dark, but he'll reach and take the pen. "Thank you. At least I've been writing upon scrolls, which can only unroll, rather than fly to the winds, like loose sheets of paper," he says. "And I suppose, the more modern and polite version of Halloween guising applies. Though we could very well have fallen into a world where the old gods of the Hellenic Greek still hold some power and their devotees live in the modes of that time.

"I hope that I'm not blithering on and I haven't lost you in the thickets of my words," he says, with a hint of self-deprecation. "But this place does intrigue me: I grew up reading Greek mythology texts and poems, and in some ways, this world is the dreams become space for the young man whom I was."

( feel free to PM or find me on

rosefret, just let me know who you are! )

arrival.

[ piece by piece consciousness takes to her form, starting with the foremost of senses: sight. slow, lazed batting of lashes gives brief, blurred flashes of sandy hues, sunlight dappling in through— was it a window?, no, more open than that —leaving it's bright trail along bare limbs. a muffled, tiny groan passes through her lips, prompting a passing of tongue, brows furrowing together as an unawareness to her surroundings begins to set in. pulse gives a stutter, building to a silent, hidden thunder within her chest, a wince overtaking the girl's features as she's pushing up onto the heel of her forearm.

instinctively, with what reflexes cooperate, she's clutching free limb to her chest, collecting breasts behind the touch. there's the faint smell of earth beneath her, hard and unforgiving where she lays, and despite the panic begging to take forefront of her mind, there isn't any imminent... threat making itself known to her, other than the austere condition in which she's been left. there's a shuffling heard somewhere near, close, and she takes grasp of the first bit of clothing found beside her, an ivory... well, cloth, using it to cover herself up a bit more decently.

whomever it is that's stumbled upon her, or, little does she know may be in the same situation of perplexity as she, is met only with a gaping stare. ]

network.

[ small fingers take to the device, prodding about it's contents a good few moments before releasing a pent sigh, as if each time she opened the contacts, she might be met with hers; however the phone is scarce, unpersonalized and, seemingly left just for her. night was beginning to fall over the land, and while she'd managed to settle her residual panic, she's not entirely sure what it is she's suppose to be doing; let alone where she is.

there's a reflection of her own visage cast on the screen before it's broadcasted, revealing a troubled set of large, ivy hues, looking into the camera as if something, or someone, may look back. ] So... a phone, but not my phone...

wildcard.

[ feel free to approach lydia at the toga party, send a text, private video, find her wandering amongst the parks or the woods, dipping her toes into the newly found lake. i'm open for it all! will also adjust to prose if preferred. ]

[ The device she'd nestled off to the side, hidden within the dewed grass, gives a sudden and lithe ping!, illuminating her slowly-dimming surroundings. She watches leerily, for a moment, before there's the gentle static and sound of another shuffling, and then a knife of clarity to her chest as familiar features broadcast fullscreen.

A breathless trip of his name stumbles her tongue, and she's grasping for the phone, cradling it upright. At the lower right of the screen she finds a 'share' button, tapping it, and thus sharing an image of herself in turn: copper locks tousled, having managed creme toga into somewhat of a decent covering, more or less resembling a towel. She tries for her voice again, throat dry and a tremor of relief flooding her tone. ] Derek?

[It is a voice that Aramis knows rather well, and one that is quite unexpected. Much of this place has proven to be completely foreign and unknown to him. The people here speak of strange things and move with a familiarity of things that he has little understanding about. Yet, there are some things that are universal no matter where you go.

And there are some things that never change.

There is a greeting called out as Aramis moves towards him, one arm out, to slap Porthos heartily against the back. It hasn't been long since Aramis returned to the Musketeers before he had found himself here, on this island.]

If you've been drinking the swill I've been, you'd consider it nectar of the gods.

[Free food and wine is certainly the best way to interest Isabela in coming to the gathering of people. She had spent the day searching for a way out, for a boat that she could commandeer to sail her back to Kirkwall, but it seemed that all this place had were fishing boats. And she was not one to row herself back to her world. It seemed that such a voyage would have to wait until she could get a proper ship.

Unfamiliar with the toga, Isabela has simply tied the clothe around herself as she would have with a bed sheet, and she walks around the crowd as if bored, though she's listening in the many conversations, trying to learn more about this island. Her path crosses with one particularly handsome man, and she smiles warmly at his words:]

My, thank you. [She says as she offers the man a practiced coy look.] I do try to keep myself in my very best shape!

[Her smile turns into a small smug grin as she fully turns to the man:]

But should you be sampling the goods before making such statement? We wouldn't want people to think your tastes are lacking, yes?

[Much of that does go right over Sif's head. Her tenure on Midgard has been limited of late, and it has been ages since the Asgardian was last worshiped by humans. Yet, the latter part is something that she can help with.]

Greetings, Doctor Robert Chase of New Jersey. I am the lady Sif of Asgard. There are several decent establishments where the ale flows freely and the meat is still upon the bone.

[By now Kristen's looking less like a toga party crasher and more like a 50s Barbie in a twin set and pencil skirt. Plus no tripping since she's found her glasses. But she has to smile slightly over the jokes.]

I get Christmas jokes so I get it too well! But hi, I'm Kristen Kringle and well I'll help as best I can. The toga party crash was weird enough.

((Post S8 as toyed with? Y/N/Cake?))]

Sure hope you like Greek food, then.

[And from the dryness of her tone, the brunette on screen isn't a big fan.]

[yes.... am watching 8 now to refresh but I will wing it until I finish. :) ]

Adams? [ Chase looks slightly stunned because she is the last person that he expected to be here. ]

I don't mind Greek, but you already knew that didn't you?

[ He looked momentarily confused because he was certain that he was going to get mocked for his speech, but what did she call herself again? ]

Where is Asgard? And could you point me in the right direction? Please? [ is added later because he is doing better. ]

[Chase laughs softly. He can imagine with a name like that, but he pushes down the automatic snarky House-like comment that pops into his head. ]

Hi, Kristin. There is a toga party?

Well from what I'm hearing there was one, just felt like I'm crashing after stumbling around blind in a sheet after landing here.

[He lets Aramis move him with the clap to his back, a token to a best friend that he allows him to think that he's actually strong enough to move him. Still, he's grinning because there's alcohol, there's people, and there's Aramis, which is usually the start of a good night, though he is missing a place to store a gun and a melon to do the usual trick]

You haven't been able to charm better ale or wine out of anyone? Aramis, for shame.

[It is that line between enjoyment and alertness that Aramis walks. Truth be told, he isn't quite certain where to begin, given that the normal routes seem to have turned up moot points. There is no ransom demand for said Musketeer, and in fact he seems to just be any other pawn in whatever game it is that this supposed Eros is playing.

He usually knows where he is, at least to some extent. War has taken him away, and brought him back, changed both physically and mentally. Yet, it hasn't completely altered the man that he was. He is still good with his words, a diplomat with a charming smile, when it pleases him to be, and judging by the way the slow smile spreads across his mouth, now seems to be one of those times.

Whereas some might not find the amusement in such things, Aramis is not such a man, and he gives a flourished bow to her]

Perhaps the lady would care to educate me.

It is not a realm where one merely walks to.

[As that would be most annoying, to have visitors popping in.

Yet his question gives her pause.]

It is more toward the western edge of the island. Depending where it is that you are, it may well be quite the trek, but your appetite shall be built up!

[He'd have better luck wooing a nun than attempting to get Porthos to budge an inch, unless it was of his own accord. Yet, despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, there is something to be said about seeing him here. Although it does also beg other questions, like are there others here as well?]

The eve is still young, but I fear many have found themselves in the similar situation.

[An arch of his eyebrow, as sorry Porthos, but a toga doesn't quite suit you, and his hand gives a squeeze on his shoulder before releasing.]

And at least it is not Spanish. That much may be said about this one titling himself a god.

"Not in the least." Kristen gently reassured Howard. "Actually I'm finding this quite fascinating." the side of her in love with picking up new things coming back to life in the process. It also gave her other things to think about besides the current crisis and the collar around her neck.

But his statement struck her, so she finally asked a big question.

"Do you think we did fall into another time?" she finally asked. "Beyond that which myth is your favorite? I loved the movies around the gladiators myself." she offered.

She was coming to see that simply talking to people outside of work was not so bad. Maybe this place has its reasons for grabbing her after all?

[ sweeeeet! ]

Huh? [The familiar brunette staring blankly at the man on her screen. She's seen a lot of people come and go, but this ones a new face, even to her.]

That doesn't sound very Greek to me but, sure. You can probably get it somewhere...

[She should, of course, realize what's happening here, she has seen it often enough but never, in her four years on Atia, did it ever happen to her.]

Uh... You know these collars don't make us psychic, right? It's purely a sex or die thing.

[He knows that look and he will argue until the sun is out, because he absolutely looks incredible in, mostly in the fact that he's got some very broad shoulders and a little bit of fabric does well for it. The legs? Maybe not so nice looking, given how short the sheet is, which he keeps adjusting.]

If he had any real sense, it'd be a proper French god, the sort you could feel good about worshiping.

[Not that Porthos really worships any god, but he's learning to cope in this place, beyond relieved to find a familiar face]

C'mon, then, let's go see who's got something better to drink.

[Okay now this was strange. Chase knew that he had turned her down, as gently as he could be given how so over House and all of his games he was. He genuinely liked Adams though and thought she was a talented Doctor. He wondered though if his rejection had affected Adams more than he realized.

No, it didn't make sense. He scrubbed a hand over the five o'clock shadow now covering his face. Sure, they had their issues especially after his stabbing, but she worked for him. Or he thought she did anyway. ]

Wait. Did you say sex or die? This is hell right?

[Now he could finally understand why House was so interested in unique people. He had always been so worried about figuring out what House's underlying motivation was, that he forgot how interesting a person could be. ]

The temple leave's a lot to be desired, doesn't it? [Slight smile is given]

Care to play tour guide? [Okay, that came out dirtier than he intended it to, but what could he do now?]

He shifts, as if putting his head on one side, thinking, then tilts his head toward her. "I have a theory, given the state of this place, the general lack of modern mechanicals, the antique mode of dress which our hosts have given us, that we have been pulled sideways in time into a place where time and space move differently than in the places and times which we have vacated," he says.

He'll chuckle gently, as he takes up a rod-shaped thing with something long and soft attached to it (the spindle of a scroll, which he's now rolling up). "That is, I admit, a rather hard question to answer, since it is something that continues to fascinate me, even now. But if I had to narrow it down, I would narrow it to a type of myth, and that would be the myths where a mortal encounters a god and some transformation - usually happening the mortal - occurs. Think of Arachne and Athena, or Dionysos and the sailors, whom he transformed into dolphins."

Much of this island leaves a lot to be desired.

[Although she has roughed it in battle before, and it is not as if living here is that hard, aside from the issues revolving around the collar.

There is a barked laugh though, and perhaps it is good that she does have a soft spot for blonds.]

I can lead you there, although if you pass out beneath the table, I just might leave you there.

If he had any real sense, he would be a she, with rounded breasts and a plump ass.

[Not that the end result would be any better for anyone. Aramis might enjoy the view more, but it isn't as if he is blinded by beauty. Just distracted by it at times.

But there is that smile, although Aramis is not certain what else one might find. Much of this place is unknown to him. The terminology alone leaves him confused, and for all he knows, this is as good as it gets. Not that it will stop him, mind.]

Beggars shall be choosers, it seems! Use that nose then, to sniff out a finer vintage.

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Test Drive #1

Toga Party

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lydia martin | teen wolf

/ network, lydia clutching onto ONE familiar thing

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Toga party!

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