entranceway | + ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

Has this ever happened to you?!

You are a handsome and ambitious producer of creative content in search of new venues to showcase your staggering talents, you are scouting the vastly wide web for new collaborators, you are READY to take the next step on your artistic journey--

--AND WE HAVE JUST THE THING FOR YOU!!!

TEST YOUR SKILLS, TAKE YOUR SALAD, AND BRACE YOURSELF TO LAUGH IN PUBLIC FOR THE VISIONARY, THE INSECTARY, THE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY EXTRAORDINARY

ENTRANCEWAY
TEST DRIVE MEME

►► Test your shiniest and brand newest muses! Bring an old voice and try Wonderland's setting and population on for size! See how that Mirror personality fits your character! Post a top level comment, tag around in other people's threads, enjoy yourself!

►► Thread out your character's arrival, let our past events inspire your scene, or write up literally any Wonderland-based scenario you feel like trying out!

►► If you want to take it a step further, check our NAVIGATION for all the game info you'll need, and our INPUT & INQUIRIES page for any missing pieces. If that's got you convinced, the pages for RESERVES and APPLICATIONS are right here!

►► Please only note that any threads made as part of the test drive meme are not game canon, and cannot be used for the activity check OR as samples for any future applications. Thank you for understanding!

AND THAT IS ALL, NOW GO PLAY IN THE ~~jam jar~~ SALAD BOWL, AND HAVE FUN!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The library isn't usually a place Simon typically hangs out, but he's actually avoiding someone at the moment, so the last place they'd look for him is actually the best place he could possibly be. It's usually pretty quiet here, so hearing an unfamiliar voice talking to himself is enough to have Simon's head poking out from one of the deeper shelves, graphic novel dangling from one hand as he looks around to locate the source.

Spotting the strangely dressed man wandering in his general direction, he breaks into an easy grin.]

If we ever find out who that is, exactly, I'll be sure to relay your compliments to them.

[It stands to reason that in a library as large as this one, Dorian would have been unlikely to find he had the place entirely to himself, but the fact remains that Simon is the first living soul he's come across since his arrival, which makes him especially interesting. The strange manner of dress and heavy accent both register, but he doesn't ask about them to start with-- first things first.]

Here I'd begun to wonder where everyone had gone.

[The mansion was in good shape, good enough that it was obvious that people actively lived here.]

You don't know who owns this place?

[ Simon lifts a hand to scratch absently at the back of his head as his face squints up in thought. ] I'm not sure anyone knows, actually. But it might be the Queen of Hearts? In which case, I'm actually going to pass on relaying anything because she's a little too violent and volatile for my tastes and I happen to enjoy keeping my head attached to the rest of me. But don't worry, she's stuck on the other side of the Mirrors, as far as I know, and the rest of us stuck here have the run of the place.

[ Whiiiich is about when it sunk in what Dorian had sent in the first place. ] Crap. You just got here, didn't you? Sorry. I'm really terrible at playing welcoming committee. I usually provide the consoling alcohol afterwards.

Queen of Hearts?

[Either she thinks a great deal of herself or has a particularly grim and grisly reputation. Given the mention of violence, Dorian feels it's fair to assume the latter.]

I'm afraid so. I'd gladly take some of that consoling alcohol now, if you've any handy.

[He's just saying.]

[Very safe assumption. Good on you, fancy mustache person.

Simon grins and closes the book he'd been reading and tucks it in the back pocket of his jeans as he steps out from between the shelves and motions for the man to follow him, sauntering down the aisle with an easy grace.]

There's always something handy around here. The closets are magic, you can ask for anything you want from them. They're not always 100% reliable in translating that request, but they try their best. But for whenever that fails, we run a bar up on the fifth floor. You're currently on the second, but if you don't mind a bit of a trek, I can drag you up for some.

[Well, he can't say anything against prompt service.]

You can't mean anything.

[Conjuring in itself was a difficult art; for anyone to have mastered it to that extent was unheard of-- let alone a closet.]

Next you'll be telling me the tables pull rabbits out of hats.

[It's about the same brand of ridiculous, really.]

No the rabbits run around with pocket watches, I'm pretty sure. [Simon muses that thoughtfully as he reaches Dorian and then keeps going, wandering past him towards the door and the staircase beyond.]

And no, actually, it seems to have a problem with recreating unique items, and sometimes even specific items. But you tell it you want some cheese or a beer or a baseball bat and it's perfectly happy to accommodate you. Except for the occasional hiccup, as I mentioned. We got overrun with pigs from one of them once. That was interesting.

[That correction only earns him a dubious stare in response. He can't be serious. Dorian follows him all the same, but he's torn between questioning this man's sanity or being irritated that Simon seems to think him so gullible. He's certainly open-minded, but there are limits.]

How is that possible? Magic can't work itself, it needs someone to channel it, control it. A spell must be cast, and no closet can do that.

[Certainly no household furnishing was capable of it, either.]

Dude, you're talking to someone who comes from a world with zombies, not magic. As far as I'm concerned, none of this is possible. It's a fairy tale, a children's story written by someone who was either very high or very crazy. Maybe even both, for all I know. If you're wanting a logical explanation for all this, I'm really not the right person to ask. I provide beer, fitness training, and occasionally bad puns.

[ Simon holds his hands up in the air as he walks, a motion of surrender at the look the man casts him. He doesn't have any say in how the closets work, he's just glad they do. ]

[Simon's defense gets an amused snort in reply. Well, at least he's honest-- Dorian can appreciate that.]

Beer seems like it may well be a necessity in this place.

[Although it's not generally his drink of choice, he's happy to make do with what's available.]

As for bad puns, I know a dwarf who would find that an admirable quality.

Is he named Kili?

[ Simon perks up at that, because hey, his experience with dwarves is limited, but he'd befriended one here once and he still missed him at times. Also they'd shared a lot of bad puns. Maybe it was a dwarf thing? ]

And yeah, it sorta is, but we're happy to provide. Some people adapt better than others.

Varric.

[He sighs upon giving the name, making sure to make it even more long-suffering than usual.]

He's an author. Quite good, if you ever get the opportunity to read his work, though I would prefer he not know I said so.

[Can't have Varric's ego getting bigger than his own, after all.]

Adapt implies being here in the long-term.

I've been here over a year now, does that count as long-term? [ Simon asks, his tone lightly wry as they reach the floor that houses the bar. He turns them down the corridor and pushes inside. It's still quiet at this time of day, but it will likely fill up more later. Evenings often bring in familiar faces looking for company or gossip. ] I know there's people that have been here longer than that even, although I've lost track who's been here longest now. People come and go pretty frequently. Some only stay a few weeks and there are others of us who seem more permanently plunked down here.

[ Motioning at the bar in invitation, Simon heads deeper into the room. ] You want something, now that we're here? Anything, you name it, we've probably got it. Or can get it.

Long enough.

[He sounds slightly pained as he makes that concession. He's been with the Inquisition three years; he knows exactly how long a single year can feel when you're not where you feel you ought to be-- although after some time, the Inquisition was more of a home to him than Minrathous in some ways.]

So there's no rhyme or reason, no pattern, no way to deduce why people come and go on a whim.

[Wonderful. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.]

Sun Blonde Vint-1, if you can manage. If not-- [He waves dismissively.] I've had time to acquire the taste for lesser things, for better or for worse.

[Ferelden Beer. :|]

Sun Blonde Vint, huh? Is there more than one? Is that why there's a number? Must be unique to where you come from, it's not something I've been asked for before. Well, lets see if these magic closets of ours can live up to your challenge, yeah?

[ He slips over to it to make a request and a moment later, he's opening it up and pulling out an aged bottle of the stuff, with writing in a language he can't read. ]

Does this look right?

One would assume, though I've often wondered if they don't just tack the numbers on to create the illusion of prestige.

[That said, the stuff is powerful enough to knock over a Qunari if they're not careful, and so some prestige is certainly warranted.

He squints a bit as he leans forward over the bar, giving the label a long look. The writing is certainly Tevene, at least.]

It looks right. I suppose taste will be the true test of how accurate these-- magic closets are.

[He's still miffed.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

+ ENTRANCEWAY TEST DRIVE MEME +

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject