test drive meme #1

[historiadores]

TDM #1

LA LLEGADA

The Museum of Art and History is the largest and oldest in Llave, and contains a grand collection spanning from the time the first humans landed on its shores to the modern day. The building encircles an open courtyard where an art installation sits amidst many of the plants important to the settlers of Llave. Behind the museum is a wide, shallow field of hard-packed dirt lined by large stones, the petroglyphs on their surface worn by time—the earliest known playing field in all of the Caribbean. And further out are the areas where excavations are ongoing, uncovering the pottery, jewelry and artifacts of the ancestors.

After awakening, things move quickly. The museum is closed, and the characters ushered into the courtyard to wait. Any needing emergency medical attention are kept in one of the air conditioned galleries until the paramedics arrive. A group of women with a military bearing take charge of the situation; identified as the Bajari Bara, they question the healthy and able. They cede authority only to the Prime Minister when she arrives. Two more of their group flank the nation's leader, though they step aside when she begins to walk among the new arrivals to speak with them.

Each side has many questions and few answers. Characters are informed they are in Llave. It's October 2020. And efforts will be made to return them to their homes. But how they came to be here and why remain mysteries…as does how they’ll find their way back.

A hurricane shelter nearby is activated for use by the recent arrivals. There, characters are provided with food and clothing, a cot and other basic supplies. No one is allowed out, but through the windows they can see the lush green of the their surroundings. At night, coquí sing them to sleep. Those taken to a hospital will remain there until they are discharged. Each patient is allowed one visitor to stay with them overnight.

Over the next several days, all characters undergo physical and mental evaluations; are provided with their first immunizations; have the next legal steps explained to them; and are taught about Llave. Every character, regardless of age, has a caseworker who checks in with them daily. None have been arrested, they are assured. But they must also complete the quarantine process. To enforce quarantine, at both the hospital and the shelter, the Bajari Bara guard every entrance and exit.

Welcome to Llave.

EL AREYTO

As luck would have it, around the time quarantine ends, all of Llave is in the midst of celebration. Today is the Day of Heroes, celebrated every last weekend in October, which this year happens to fall on the eve of All Saints’ Day. So when the new arrivals venture out for the first time, Nona, the capital, welcomes them with color and music.

The people of Llave have a special love for music and dance, and it shows. All day, groups gather to play, and many more to dance. The songs center around heroes of Llave with the chief of these being Nuna, a beloved figure who is said to have led her people here to freedom. Those performing wear traditional clothes: guayaberas, long circle skirts, palm hats and headwraps, all brightly colored.

From early morning, artisans have set up under tents tables laden with goods. Clothing, jewelry, musical instruments, paintings, and more made from leather and wood, seashells and fish scales, aluminum and copper. Many create right at the table. Most popular are those working on cemís: sculptural objects, said to house the spirits of ancestors. Many carry them as amulets especially on this the eve to the days of the dead.

The food is equally rich and one of the cooks takes an interest in the new arrivals. Those who eat his food find their mood changing depending on what they ate. The tostones he prepared while speaking of his childhood home in Santa Cecilia bring on feelings of joy and contentment. The alcapurrias fried while arguing with a customer about last night’s wrestling match cause those who eat them to feel irritated. And the casabe, a flatbread made of cassava, that he explains he learned to make from his wife who passed, induces a profound nostalgia for lost loves. His wife, recognizable from the photo he keeps on the wall, sits beside those most affected and comforts them until the melancholy passes.

More dead can be found. An old man in a fine guayabera recalls composing the lyrics to a particular song. He points out the man playing the congas and proudly says his great-grandson will soon outplay him. When characters look back to the old man, he’s gone. Those with a sense for it will recognize many dead walking among the living. These next few days honor and celebrate the departed, and the dead have seized the rare opportunity to join the festivities once more.

For those who prefer the sea, the impossibly blue waters of the Caribbean are just a short walk away. Cobblestone and concrete paths line La Bahía de Nona. On one of the larger rock outcroppings jutting into the bay sits a silver-white dog. If called, he will trot over. Up close, one can see his color is due to the sand and salt that has collected on its coat. Though he allows himself to be petted, he does not step off the rocks. A passerby comments that the dog has been waiting for his master to return. How long? The man shrugs. When he was a boy, the dog was keeping watch; now he’s forty-three, and the dog is still there.

EL TRAVIESO

Or perhaps the characters were more distracted by how clean the water was, how clear. Enough so that the sight of a bottle bobbing in the waves seems offensively out of place. Anyone who chooses to snag it out of the water will find it’s a corked bottle of rum, apparently empty.

From a nearby restaurant, someone yells and waves their hands—too late. By uncorking it, they have freed the bacoo. Immediately, everyone backs away. Two cross themselves.

Only one stays long enough to warn, “You have to trick it back into the bottle. It likes milk and bananas. Don’t ask it for anything.”

Turn around, and the bacoo is there.

Short and rugged with large eyes, long arms and legs, covered in unkempt hair and its fingers and toes ending in claws, the bacoo is a strange little creature. Stranger still, it can grant any wish—so long as it is kept appeased with a steady diet of milk and bananas.

A hungry bacoo will pelt walls with stones, move objects, keep its owner up at night, and otherwise wreak havoc until it is fed. A shapeshifter, they can be difficult to locate, much less trap. And a starving bacoo will turn vicious and its pranks malicious.

Best find a way to trick it into the bottle. Fast.

---

OOC NOTES

This TDM covers from mid-to-end of October. The first prompt lasts approximately two weeks; the second, a day. For now, all characters are restricted to Nona. Any attempting to leave will be gently, but firmly escorted back.

The TDM will also double as the first IC post of the game. Threads between any two or more characters who were all apped and approved will be considered game canon. As such, actions characters take in this TDM will impact the game once it opens. How characters behave will shape the inhabitants’ first impressions of them. Make it count.

Questions regarding this TDM can be asked below, while questions regarding the game at large should be directed to the FAQ.

Thank you for your interest and we hope to have you join!

NAVIGATION • IC COMM • OOC COMM • MEME COMM

Comments

Catra ♦ She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

[heterochrocatic]

1. LA LLEGADA

[ Catra has been slowly growing more and more aggravated as time goes by. She's been hurried along to this shelter--more like a prison, she thinks--with everyone gawking at her, poking and prodding and asking "What are you? Where are you from?" constantly. Then of course the blood samples, the check-ups, x-rays, more questions. It was enough to drive her out of her head.

And since she can't sneak out (she tried), she's stuck here. She's sitting on her cot amidst a sea of similar cots and similarly oddly displaced people, tail curling and lashing in agitation as she tries to work out what to do next. She shouldn't be here, for one. She was on Horde Prime's ship. Or she should have been? Instead she was here where everyone stared.

She hated them staring. Which means, unfortunately, that someone who just happens to catch her gaze even if they're not staring at her gets an angry snap. ]

What are you looking at?

2. EL AREYTO - ELLA BAILA

[ Being let outside on her own was a relief. A huge relief. She no longer felt so confined or or caged, but it brought with it all sorts of strange new problems. It seemed like a paradise, here. The weather was pleasant, the people were friendly, even if they still stared and asked intrusive questions about her obviously non-human countenance. There was even a festival underway. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her just felt even more alienated and out of place. This wasn't her home (if she even had one any longer), these weren't her people. Why should she bother being happy? The energy of it is contagious, though.

In spite of herself, she finds first her tail and then, eventually, the rest of her swaying in time with the energetic music. It's not quite enough to overcome her melancholy, but you might catch her dancing through the crowds, even laughing along as she finds herself in a swirl of energy and movement. There's a freedom here, too, she's realizing. No one here knows her or cares about what she's done. How liberating. She might even be coerced to into grabbing one of the other newcomers and dancing with them to the infectious beats of the energizing songs. ]


3. EL AREYTO - QUÉ MELANCOLÍA

[ At some point of course, one has to rest, to drink, to eat. She might be found sitting and scarfing down some casabe. If one finds her like this, her tentative grip on her good mood seems to slowly slip away until she finds herself sprawled out, fighting back welling tears. The crushing weight of being alone, of realizing that she has lost the one person in the universe she knew for sure she loved, seems to finally hit. It overcomes her, to the point that even her usual prickly instincts don't suffice for her to shove away the support of the dead. Or of the living. If someone decides to check on her, she just looks defeated. Stares at them with weary eyes. ]

I lost her. I don't know if I ever really had a chance.

( If you have a wildcard or another idea, feel free to throw them at me. You can always PM this journal if you have questions! )

3

[bisexualdisaster]

[This is a lot more emotions than Alex was expecting to deal with during a party, especially from someone he doesn't know, but he gamely sits beside her and offers her a bottle.]

Sucks.

[He'll let her keep talking if she wants, but he's not going to immediately press.]

i appreciate that his reaction to a sad catgirl is to give her the bottle

[heterochrocatic]

[ Numbly, Catra reaches out to accept the bottle and takes a significant swig of it, not quite sure what it is. On the other hand, she doesn't much care either. ]

I fucked it up really bad. I've loved her since we were kids and I never told her and now I've just wrecked everything. I hurt her, I hurt her friends, I hurt a lot of people.

[ She takes another gulp from the bottle and hands it back. Part of her is screaming. Why is she dumping all this on the first idiot to wander by? The other part, though, just wants to vent all of these unhappy, miserable feelings. She can't keep them trapped inside of her forever, as much as she'd like to. ]

She probably hates me.

she needs it!! that or someone to scratch her ears

[bisexualdisaster]

[It's some kind of alcohol. Alex doesn't actually know what specifically. Something in the rum family, he thinks, and right now he's not particularly pressed to figure it out past that.]

Has she said she hates you?

Re: she needs it!! that or someone to scratch her ears

[heterochrocatic]

[ Catra groans unhappily. ]

No. I haven't talked to her in... a while.

[bisexualdisaster]

Soooo you're just assuming. [He nudges her with his elbow.] Have you tried, oh, I don't know, reaching out?

[heterochrocatic]

I can't just reach out. UGH!

[ She sits back up. She's not quite glaring at her companion, but she's definitely agitated. ]

We were on opposite sides of this war for years! What am I supposed to do? Just say 'sorry, you were right, I should have come with you and I'm an idiot' like that'll fix things?

3

[mithrarin]

[Having not gotten sucked into the festival in the first place, Dust doesn't have much of a good mood to lose -- and in fact, he notices Catra not because of her dark mood, but because she seems just that little bit closer to him than all the other people here. It's the ears.]

[But then he notices she does seem like she needs help. Not with something like an invading army or missing laundry, the sorts of things he's good at, but -- well, part of it is just wanting to help, as is his nature by deliberate virtue of his creation. But part of it is that helping someone else will distract him, and he could really use some distraction right now.]

Romance?

[At least it's not like his own situation, to judge by that comment of 'having a chance'. He's only missing his best and closest friend, not someone anything more than that.]

[Dust takes a seat nearby, half-turned away in addition to his resolute refusal to make any sort of eye contact. He kind of has the opinion she'd find it easier to talk to someone not looking back at her.]

Re: 3

[heterochrocatic]

Yeah.

[ Catra leans forward and rests her head on her knees. She feels a little ill. Everything seems like too much in the moment. The wave of nostalgia and melancholy that crashes over her is intense. Memories play themselves back. Happy times, missed opportunities. And of course the times she'd hurt the one she loved. ]

I fucked up.

[mithrarin]

[A few memories play back in his mind, as well: most keenly one where he'd been asked who he was, and had no answer.]

[One hand drops to the hilt of the Blade of Ahrah. If nothing else he still had one friend here.]

...Who doesn't, though?

[heterochrocatic]

She doesn't.

[ Well, no. She very much does. But in her current state, Catra is not in a place to acknowledge that. Let her wallow in misery for a little while, okay? ]

[mithrarin]

That just means you don't see them. Or don't think of them is mistakes. No one is perfect... sometimes, it's all just a matter of what you can do.

[Dust has more than a few things on his mind, including one that, after a second, he has to ask.]

Are you dead?

[This isn't a rhetorical question made to lead up to some greater point, no matter how much it might sound like one. He really wants to know.]

[heterochrocatic]

What? No! Why would I be dead?

[ Catra glares. ]

I mean, I don't know. Maybe I'm dead and this place is hell, who fucking knows?

bailamos

[singlelogbridge]

[His eyes catch on her as she dances, lips curving into a smirk behind his flute. There's a freedom about her movement that keeps his eyes on her, and as he matches the beat of a song he's never heard in a style he's never known, Wei Wuxian adds a few playful trills just for her.

She has the tail and ears of a cat, but already in his short time here he's seen stranger, and her joy intrigues him far more. It has been so long since he has felt joy like that, and he feels it curling around him now at the sight of her, the energy contagious.

When he needs to stop for breath he tucks his flute back into his robes and watches her dance in between the others before a moment of spontaneity has him stepping forward and offering her a hand. If she takes it, he'll guide her into one of those wonderful twirls he's seen her and so many others do today. He will not hold her close or really even hold her at all, but he'll keep his hand on hers and move around her, simply enjoying the movement and the company of a stranger.]

sorry for the wait!

[heterochrocatic]

[ Catra might normally hiss and spit and fluff up at someone she doesn't know so casually entering her space. For now, though, she seems to swept up in the energy of the party and strange, liberating feeling that comes with being completely unknown. So she reaches out to take the offered hand swirls into motion with him. She is graceful and dexterous--even if she is not a trained dancer, her movements are naturally fluid, each precise and poised.

She doesn't know this guy. And for once she thinks that's okay. ]

[singlelogbridge]

[Wei Wuxian is having fun and it's. It's nice. It's been so long since he's been able to relax and enjoy himself, and the music and dancing seems to have resurrected a part of him that he feared might have been gone for good. It isn't though, and it's easy to slip back into his carefree nature, even if it doesn't quite reach his heart.

It's easier to forget everything else with a good dance partner by his side, and this girl, she's a good dancer. (He doesn't know much about technique or style, only about letting go.)

It's a while later when he's stepping away with a flash of a grin thrown her way, only far enough to be out of the way of those still dancing. The movement was fun, it was good for him, but it's not where his true passion lies and so the flute comes back out. He plays for one song then another, following the other musicians still and their upbeat tunes. He plays until the crowd begins to clear and the night grows later, and the music comes to an eventual stop.

Only then does he rest again, lowering Chenqing from his lips and gazing out into the slowly dispersing crowd of those who had lingered. He looks for the girl he'd danced with among the crowd, his social nature getting the best of him as he attempts to find her.]

[heterochrocatic]

[ The man with the flute steps back to continue playing music, Catra seems unbothered. She just goes on dancing amongst the crowd, seeming untiring in her enthusiasm. Part of her is living in the moment. Another part wants to go until she is exhausted, if only so she can avoid thinking about what she left behind her before she arrived here. When at last the music dies away and the dancers begin to disperse, Catra is left perched on a bench, panting and worn-out. A bottle of water someone had thrust into her hands is opened and downs half of it in a few thirsty gulps. It's only then that she notices Wei Wuxian approaching her. Her ears perk. ]

...Hey.

[ The greeting is wary, a little uncertain. ]

[singlelogbridge]

[He knows guarded when he sees it, and where before he might have tried to wheedle his way past those guards, he isn't that young and careless anymore. Instead, he pauses where he is and offers her a short wave and a bright smile.]

Hi, I wanted to thank you for the dance. It's been a while since I've done something so spontaneous. [ Well, spontaneous in the good way anyway. His gaze flickers back to the still dispersing crowds and musicians still packing their things and his face softens.]

This is wonderful, isn't it? This place is amazing. [It's beautiful in a way that's completely different from the world he knows, but beautiful all the same. And far away from the mess of his own shattered life.]

[heterochrocatic]

Oh. Yeah. You're welcome.

[ Catra takes another swig from her water bottle and turns her head to watch as people continue packing up their things. She doesn't know why she felt compelled to join the dance. Just that it felt right. Felt good. ]

It's certainly something.I mean. Better than where I was, but it's weird.

[ Where she was being on the starship of an alien warlord awaiting presumed execution. ]

1)

[heeroism]

﹙ he doesn't seem to care that he was caught staring — his expression is utterly impassive. he's sitting on his cot, arms crossed, leaned back against the wall. ﹚

Your ears.

﹙ he has manners like, five percent of the time. this is apparently not one of those occasions. for all the wonders of space and the earth, he's never seen anyone (or anything) like her. ﹚

omg heero <3 hello fellow traumatized child soldier

[heterochrocatic]

[ Catra's expression gets even more sour at the reaction (or rather, the lack of reaction) her challenge gets from the guy on the cot. She sits up a bit more, hands gripping the edge of her cot. ]

What? Never seen ears before?

[ Her tail lashes in agitation and she forces it to still. No need to let this guy know he's getting to her. Not that she's doing a good job of hiding it anyway. ]

exactly why i tagged tbh : ')

[heeroism]

Not like yours.

﹙ he hadn't noticed the tail at first. his eyes track its flick, and then settle back at her face. ﹚

What are you?

new goal get heero to say "I'll kill you" to catra

[heterochrocatic]

Some people have different ears.

[ There's an aggravated baring of teeth at Heero's next question, and angry jolt that travels down her body. Her tail bottle-brushes a little in open annoyance. ]

I'm a cat, idiot.

omg... we all know it's just how he introduces himself it's fine

[heeroism]

﹙ he absorbs the information silently.

another world, obviously. extradimensional. one where human/animal hybrids are not only expected, but ordinary enough that she's offended by his curiosity. she wouldn't be, if she were the only one. she'd be used to the stares, the questioning. heero makes a noncommittal sound. he hasn't moved, despite her obvious agitation, and his posture seems perfectly at ease. if he views her as a physical threat, he isn't letting on. ﹚

You should tell them if you have any dietary restrictions.

﹙ he's not dealing with any hairballs, thanks. ﹚

[heterochrocatic]

What? I don't have dietary restrictions.

[ Catra scowls. Her gaze could kill if eyes were also guns. Thankfully for Heero, this is not the case. ]

Not that it would be your business even if I did.