justhugalready | Test Drive

Entry tags:

*test drive meme

Test Drive - July Edition

The July Test Drive!
Trying to see if a character will fit or work in the setting? Need some interaction samples? Well this meme is for you!

Make a post, tag around, and most importantly, have fun! Here's the setting page for those who want to learn a little more about the city itself.

~~And don't forget to go reserve your character, GO GO GO.......~~

Here's some prompts to help you get started, if you need it:

Option 1

[ It looks like there are preparations underway for some sort of festival or fair. There are various stands and booths being erected along sectioned-off streets and the riverbank, and decorations are slowly but surely being hanged. Fireflies seem to be appearing all along the riverbank as the sun sets, with a few stands set up with mason jars of various sizes as well as paper lanterns, possibly as further decorations. Whatever the case, it looks like those setting up could use some help! ]

Option 2

[ Though most of the stands are being set up, that doesn't mean that there aren't a few vendors looking to help those out and about beat the heat in some fashion. There are some selling shaved ice with various flavors, and others that appear to be handing out water-filled balloons or squirt guns. However, like in the market district, there's a catch – the items are free, so long as you arrive at the stall in pairs or groups larger than two. ]

Option 3

[ Whoops. Looks like you haven't taken the cautionary words of the other NPCs to heart, or maybe you just wanted to take your chances. Either way, the withdrawal symptoms have started and you need to find someone to hug quickly before you get even more sick.]

Option 4

[If there's something else you wanted to play with, that you didn't see here, then have fun with that. You've just arrived in a strange city, after all. There's got to be plenty to explore out and about, not to mention people to meet.]

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But friendlessness is a good thing to catch!

[Too bad for Robin, Diarmuid doesn't really pick up on those 'don't touch' cues as well as he should. He's getting better, but...

The boy shifts Lir in his arms and then wiggles the fingers of his free hand at the other boy.]

Look out! I will infect you! I'm evil like that!

[He then drops his hand and giggles.]

Little Dia can do lots of things! He can go get people for me or find missing things and come back to lead me to where they are. He might not be able to speak, but he's good at getting people's attention!

[So, yes, the butterfly does more than flutter and look pretty.]

No, no, nothing is set in stone! If I don't earn becoming a hero, I won't be a hero! I am not afraid of working hard to get something I want. And I really want to be a good knight! I won't ever give up on it!

You're a loon.

[ He sniffs, haughty, clicking his tongue and turning his head away from the wiggling fingers in distaste. He's not sure how this--

(a mental gesture, to the entirety of Diarmuid)

--will become one of the more famous figures in Irish legend, and honestly, he has his doubts. He expected something closer to himself, maybe; proficient, excellent, already untouchable even in his youth. Instead, he's faced with a smiling, happy, carefree child, who will go on to do great things.

~~It's not fair.~~ ]

So you, essentially, have a magical homing butterfly. [ He thinks on that, considering. ] Well, it's something. It would be even better if it were poisonous.

[ Assassin butterfly. ]

Calm down, I believe you. [ God, this child is far too exuberant. ]

I'm not a loon! I'm a boy!

[Diarmuid giggles, unaware that Damian means something besides the bird that is called a 'loon.'

To be honest, if Damian saw the boy Diarmuid was when he first came back to the city after being home for a year, he would see a completely different boy. One who was a lot more like him. One overly-focused on becoming the best knight he could be and still hurting from losing whatever it was he couldn't remember.

Months in the city with his friends have helped him to return to being more child-like again, though when he is training that far too serious boy comes back.]

Does it help that he can't be killed? Well, he can be, but he will always come back! Then he can go get someone who has poison!

[Not really the point, but...]

I'm sorry. I just get really excited when I talk about becoming a knight. I can't wait to be able to help everyone!

You're both.

[ What is he supposed to do with this? Damian is unprepared for dealing with well-adjusted children beyond swooping in, saving them, and dropping them off in the arms of their guardians in disgust.

He's mildly tempted to toss this boy into the water and make a quick getaway. ]

The immortality is a little better. The average species of Papilionoidea lives less than two weeks. Not a long-lasting pet.

[ Immortality for Titus and Alfred the Cat, now that's a thought. Perhaps Zatanna might be able to--

The thought, as quick as it comes, is dismissed. It's foolish. He's dead, and his father would never compromise his own ideals in using the Lazarus Pit to bring him back. No, unless Damian can somehow claw himself back into the land of the living from whatever afterlife he will find himself in (or has found himself in), there's no going back.

The longer he thinks on this, the sicker he feels. ]

It'll come, in time. [ Best not to think on it at all, for the moment. ] No need to rush it. I hear childhood is something to be enjoyed.

It's both! Things like that are more fun when shared with others!

[Diarmuid is only truly happy when those around him are happy. That is why, despite how closed off Robin is being, the boy reaches out and tries to take his hand to pull him toward the festival.]

Won't you come and try to have a little fun? You can worry about going home and all that other stuff later. Right now, just relax and try to balance yourself so you can figure out what you need to tomorrow!

[He pause, giving Robin a curious look.]

What is a Pap-ill-whatever?

[Big words. Oh, he can't wait for the day when he is big enough to defeat them easier...]

[ He's not expecting the other boy to grab his hand, and the shock of it flummoxes him for a half-second. He even stumbles a few steps forward at the tug, before he gathers his wits and takes his hand back. His gloved arms retreat underneath his cape and he gives it a shake to fall over his shoulders, draping the entirety of his form in a protective shroud while staring sullenly out at Diarmuid from beneath his hood.

This one is a challenge. ]

I don't like crowds.

[ He hasn't attended a festival in a long while. Also, what is fun? He gives the booths a critical look. His stomach is rumbling at the thought of food, even through his nausea. And--

--well. He supposes the child isn't that annoying. Not Damian's first pick for company, but not the worst; he's also the first source of useful information he's found, brainwashed as the boy is. A beat, a pause, before he grudging steps forward up next to Diarmuid. ]

However, I'm hungry. Lead the way.

[ Go forth, boyservant, and lead him to something edible. Damian won't be playing any of the games or doing much beyond observing, but it's some company, at least. ]

And Papilionoidea is the superfamily for butterflies. It refers to all species that may be called such, without actually saying butterfly.

That's okay! We can stay away from the crowds then!

[Though Diarmuid is a little sad that Robin pulls his hand away, he doesn't let that stop him. The festival is pretty big and even with all the people, there are places where one can be almost alone.

And...there is a lot of food.]

What kind of food do you like? There is so much here! Hot dogs, for one! They aren't made of dog, so I am not sure why they are called that, but...

[Diarmuid shrugs.]

And popcorn and funnel cake and candy, so much candy!

[While he waits for an answer, Diarmuid ponders what Robin has told him about what Papilionoidea is.]

A superfamily sounds like fun! Who wouldn't want a huge family?

[Not quite what it means, little guy...]

[ Damian likes those empty places the best right now. Normally he pays no mind to crowds, couldn't care less, but he's weary and annoyed with constantly staying on his guard, alert, untrusting of his surroundings, and crowds only aggravate his nerves further.

There is a lot of food, though. Almost makes it worth it. ]

Nothing fried, nothing sweet, no meat.

[ Listed off, automatically. Damian actually has come to enjoy fried and sweet things, but that must be kept off the radar. Drake wouldn't shut up about it if he found out about his occasional junk food indulgence. He scrutinizes the offerings, lips pursing in consideration. ]

I may make an exception for those fried plantains.

[ Twice-fried plantains. Amazing.

He almost - almost - corrects Diarmuid, then, eyes rising heavenward, decides it's best to leave it be. ]

I hear large families can be troublesome. Plenty of bickering.

Fried plantains! That's a good place to start!

[The boy dashes off to get a double order and then soon returns to Robin, holding them out to him with one hand while holding onto Lir with the other.]

Here you go! How about golden sun kernels? Umm...

[He pauses a moment to try and think of the proper name.]

Corn! That is what it is called. They have buttered corn on the cob too!

[Once Robin takes the plantains from him, Diarmuid looks down, a little sadness filling his eyes.]

I am the only child around at home. I wouldn't mind some bickering if that meant there were more kids around. Bickering isn't really fighting anyway...

[ It's hard to tell whether the food retrieval is an exchange between lord and servant, or between stray and rescuer. Damian certainly fits the bill as both lord and cat with the way he sniffs the plantains, suspicious; picking one up, he nibbles at it, before making short work of the piece with quick, small bites, and then attacks another.

He hadn't realized how hungry he'd been, in between the nausea and the exhaustion and wandering the city, looking for clues to find the location of the scientists who could send him back. ]

It's acceptable. [ The plantains are amazing, but that's as far as his grudging praise goes. ] These will be fine.

[ Too much food would be pushing it. Also, he hates when the corn gets stuck in his teeth. ]

I used to be an only child. [ Adored, doted upon, the Alexander to her Olympias. But did she ever love him? Who knows. Probably not. ] I have brothers, now.

We fight, too. [ He adds, a muted smirk playing across his lips. Fights that Damian has ~~mostly~~ won. ]

Yay! I am glad you like them! There is a place where we can sit down away from the crowd over here. Come on!

[Diarmuid points off away from the booths and then starts that direction, expecting that Robin will follow. As he walks, he hugs Lir close.]

I wish I had brothers back home, but at least I have my brother here! And he is my hero! Or, he will be once he grows up. Right now he's a boy like me so we play and train together. It's so much fun. Hey! You knew my name. Do you know his? It's Cu Chulainn!

[Considering Diarmuid thinks Cu Chulainn is an even bigger hero than he will be, Robin better know him or the boy will be very disappointed.]

There is all kinds of fighting between brothers. I bet you don't fight for really real.

[As in, to kill each other.]

You train and joke and that kind of stuff, right?

[ Damian doesn't follow, he leads. Or, at least, walks at one's side; with a few quick steps, cape flaring up with the motion, he steps up next to Diarmuid, stuffing another plantain in his mouth (what is even restraint anymore?). ]

I know of him. [ Loftily, mumbled around a mouthful of fried fruit. He can't even bring himself to be surprised this time; of course two Irish legends would be here. ] I'm admittedly not all that familiar with your land's history, but I know his story has many parallels to that of Rostam. A hero from Persian myth. [ He clarifies, after a beat. ] He wouldn't happen to be here, too?

[ Maybe all the dead heroes are here. Maybe he has found himself in the Elysian Fields as a reward for his final act.

But that doesn't explain the robots. Are they alien heroes? Robot alien heroes? Why would aliens be in a human version of heaven?

His contemplation is interrupted by Diarmuid's comment, and he barks out a laugh, half-scoff, half-snort. ]

We fight for real. Red Robin and I have had our moments. [ Just a bit of rambunctiousness. ] The same with Red Hood. Perhaps the only one I haven't come to real blows with is Ba-- Nightwing.

[ Sometimes he still slips up, wants to call Grayson by the title Damian knew him by first.

(We were the best, Richard.) ]

But we do train together, occasionally. Joking, however? [ He thinks on that, lips twisting in mock thoughtfulness, before taking another bite with a snort of dismissal. ] No. I never joke.

[ Absolute lies. ]

[Fortunately for Robin, Diarmuid doesn't pay much attention to that lack of restraint. He is more interested in directing them toward the bench and table. Once there, he crawls up onto one bench and then leans forward to try and steal one of the plantains from Damian's bag with a giggle.

Aside from actually being pretty quick, he's not a very good thief. That giggle...gives him away every time.]

I haven't met anyone by that name, but it doesn't mean he isn't here or won't come here soon! More people arrive every month! There is no way to know who will be in the newest group.

[Though, lately guessing 'giant robot' would be a pretty safe guess...]

Oh...blows aren't good, but they happen sometimes. You still love each other, right? That is what makes a real fight a real fight. You fight so bad that you don't love the person anymore afterward.

[And those fights are sad...]

You don't joke?

[Diarmuid studies Robin's expression and then sticks his tongue out at the other boy.]

You are joking now! I can tell. I might be young, but I'm not stupid!

[ Diarmuid will have to do better than that. Damian is fast, too, and possessive of what's his. Without batting an eye, he swaps the prize to his other hand, holding it aloft and out of reach. Biting with faux delicateness into another piece, he takes his own seat on the tabletop, feet resting on the bench. He flips his hood down and shakes his cape back over his shoulders with an uneven shrug. ]

What kind of people would you say tend to come in?

[ All heroes? He wonders, studying the bloodstains on his gloves; some his own, some his brother's.

(Did she even give him a name?) ]

What's love got to do with it? We were brothers in arms. Soldiers. [ A beat. ] Nightwing would care that I'm dead. [ He's not holding his breath for Drake, or Todd. ]

[ He throws a side-eyed stare at Diarmuid, eyebrows raising mockingly. ]

Am I joking?

[Diarmuid pouts slightly when Damian pulls the chip away from him, but the pout passes quickly. He's not really hungry anyway, since he ate something not that long ago.]

All kinds of people come here! Heroes and cat-people and robots and gods and magicians and...

[The boy keeps going for a good couple of minutes before he stops. It's obvious he has seen a lot of different kinds of people come and go.]

Just about anyone you can imagine and a lot that you can't!

[He obviously likes meeting all these different kinds of people.]

Love has a lot to do with it! Brothers-in-arms are like your fighting family! Of course, they love you! It's just a different kind of love! I am sure this Nightwing and everyone else are very upset that you...

[His voice trails off. Best not to remind the boy that he died before coming here.]

You are joking and that is that. I can tell!

[ Damian mentally checks out at the thirty second mark, staring straight ahead and steadily making his way through the bag of plantains, giving a grunt of acknowledgment every so often in a half-hearted attempt at politeness while the other rambles on.

He was never like this as a younger boy. Damian was quiet, serious, inquisitive but reserved. He didn't play with other children. He has no clue how to handle other children. So he lets Diarmuid talk. ]

An impressive array. [ Even if half of them are imaginary.

He doesn't-- want to think that, maybe, the others would be upset. Damian is always fiercely independent, at odds with everyone around him, stand-offish and quick to judge; his shows of affection, of trust, are brief and rare, though more frequently seen towards the end with his Father, with Grayson.

They should be glad he's gone. They should be laughing at his grave, and he should be spitting mad about it. Not this -- this ache, that he can't place, at the thought of them genuinely mourning him.

He swallows, hard, bothered more than he should be by the boy's words. ]

It changes nothing, either way.

[ Sighing hard through his nose, he holds the bag of plantains out to Diarmuid, brusque and businesslike. ]

This is a large serving. Help me finish, or it will go to waste.

[ As if he wasn't playing keep-away five minutes ago. ]

[Letting him talk is probably one of the better ways to handle things. Diarmuid just gets over-excited very easily, and stopping him is like stopping a very small, but very cute, runaway train...

However, if Robin really believes that so many of the types of people Diarmuid has listed to him are imaginary, he is in for a big surprise once he starts meeting them...]

It does change things!

[His voice is insistent, but when Diarmuid looks up and notices the expression on Robin's face, he stops and doesn't continue his argument. It's obvious the boy is feeling something that Diarmuid can't see all of or can't understand.

He just hopes Robin is able to find a way to figure it out.

When the bag is offered to him, his expression brightens and he takes a small handful of the chips.]

Thank you!

[ It's a good thing Damian is excellent at not paying attention when people talk and talk and talk. It was good practice, spending time with Grayson.

As Diarmuid drops the argument, the young Robin keeps silent, biting into another chip and shifting his heels on the bench, rolling his booted toes along the wood as he flexes his foot. He's used to sitting in one place for longer periods, and his fidgeting is more purposeful than it is bored, keeping his muscles active and awake and ready to move.

A click of the tongue meets Diarmuid's thanks, as if the boy can't be bothered to acknowledge his offer as generous; nothing but matter-of-fact. ]

Can't eat too much more, anyway.

[ In fact, he wants nothing more than to sleep the sickness away; it's something of a struggle to stay awake after filling his stomach for the first time in several days, but he can manage a little while longer. Setting the bag next to Diarmuid, he hops off the bench, cape flapping with the motion before it settles to hang around him again. He frowns back at the boy, though there's little real irritation in the expression - it's a default. ]

I should probably get going. [ A beat, before he adds, grudgingly: ] Thanks. For the info. [ And the company. ]

Edited 2014-07-21 20:28 (UTC)

[Diarmuid takes the bag, steadying it on the table so that it doesn't fall over. His expression falls a little when he realizes the other boy is going to leave, but at the same time, he understands how tiring and stressful being a new arrival can be.]

Okay, I hope you are able to settle in smoothly. If you ever want to ask me a question or need help, I am in Building 3, Room 2-05.

[He waves at Robin.]

It was nice meeting you! I hope to see you again soon!

[Lir playfully blows a bubble in Robin's direction.]

And Lir says the same!

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Test Drive - July Edition

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