Test Drive Meme 009

[sinfulmods]

Test Drive Meme

Considering apping to the City of Sin, but unsure of who to bring or if they'll fit? Feel free to give the setting a test drive here! These are a perfect way of getting your playing sample done for the application.

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→ Comment with the character you'd like to test drive in the setting, with name and canon in the subject line
→ Choose a scenario or create your own!
→ Tag around!

Possible Scenarios 01. A New Arrival: Hello, New Person! You seem to have found yourself on a sidewalk in the City of Sin with nothing but the clothes on your back and a stomach chruning feeling of being displaced. Thankfully, the streets are full of people - Watch out that you don't get mugged! 02. Demonic Presences: You were just minding your own business, weren't you? But that's always when bad things seem to happen, and the City of Sin isn't really that friendly. Whatever bar or street you're hanging out in suddenly go dim, filling the area with an unnerving feeling as the shadows on the walls jump out into reality. We suggest you phone a friend for help, or maybe try running? 03. Party Hard: You've been invited to a massive, elegant party at the Tower that spills out its doors in welcome, by someone who calls themselves the Emperor. Obviously, that's weird, but maybe you can get some free drinks and food out of it! This place might not be so bad. 04. Prominence: The City of Sin influences it's population on a weekly basis. Too bad you came right smack dab in the middle of a heavy Prominence. Lust, Greed, Gluttony, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, or Pride. Choose your choice of sin and be wicked. 05. Trouble: Not everyone is sunshine and roses here. Some people are violent and cruel, raised in the sludge of a sinful city. And they like to pick on people they think can't fight back. Are you that person? Or are you the Hero who can't stand to watch? Worse yet, could you be the person doing the instigating? Villian. 06. Carnival: The City has carnivals or festivals now and then; you're lucky to catch one! With its open booths filled with cork gun games and funnel cakes, how can someone not have any fun! Go win your darling a stuffed animal, or meet someone new on the spinning cup ride. You might even see someone you know being talked into sitting in the Dunk Tank. 07. Wild Card: Choose your own adventure in the game's setting!

Comments

Sherlock Holmes | Sherlock (BBC)

[everybody_shutup]

[01. Arrival]

Amidst everything that was going on, there had been no pinpointing the precise moment when it all shifted. Of course, that part seemed elementary to the 'how' aspect of this particular puzzle. It was why.

From the moment Sherlock became conscious enough, before his eyes even fluttered open in the room of the Finance Street brownstone, he was able to deduce this wasn't his flat back on Baker Street. Nor was it the jet he'd last remembered himself being on. It could only be one place.

Noise broke the eerily calm and quiet evening on Stonehedge Street when a door flew open violently to debut a very frantic looking Sherlock Holmes. He spared only a brief glance at the numbers on the door before setting out into the middle of the street to look one way and then the other. A quick pat of his pockets revealed he had his phone and upon opening his contacts list; a long list of unfamiliar names proved the one person he needed was not here.

"This isn't right. No. Wakeupwakeupwakeup!" he half murmured to himself, placing fingertips to his temples as he closed his eyes tightly and began a slow spin that seemed so much faster inside his mind.

Finally, Sherlock stopped and looked up towards the Tower district. No one solved a case by simply standing in one spot.

So, he headed there first.

[dirtyandtrue]

It was another glorious night to be one of the undead.

Matthew had preen and picked himself to the high standard of fabulousness he subscribed too; the dark green suit fit him perfectly and made the crisp white of his shirt pop behind it's matching silk tie. The hair was too glorious to cover with a cap and it was seasonable enough that he could escape the need for a jacket.

He did so hate unneeded accessories.

Seasonable or not, Matthew was on foot, finding the cars here to be pointless when he could get to where he was going in less time then it would take a cab to drive. Tonight's task was at least, a difference in his routine.

He had to go see a man about some horse.

It was still early enough in the evening that there were a few people on the street, so he paid no mind to any hurried or unreasonably high heartbeat, and turned the corner of a street with no warning to mention the stern, purpose-filled man he nearly runs into. Had he been anyone else, they would have collided at the shoulder to bicep, (don't say a word), but he wasn't anyone else. He was Mad Matt.

Matthew turned himself at the last (or first) second, arching and pulling away as Sherlock strides by.

"OI! Watch where you're going, there's no fire."

[everybody_shutup]

Oh, but there was. Rather, at least in the vicinity of London and, in a metaphorical sense of the word. During his walk into the district, one thing rang true: this place was clearly not London. This was unfamiliar territory and a place where Sherlock wasn't the least bit sure he'd ever been - alternate universes aside. That part in the whole equation was inconceivable to him.

Or, was it? He'd definitely put himself deep into his mind palace before waking in that horror of a bedroom. Perhaps this was yet another fabrication; another stage set by Moriarty himself to convey his plan.

Right before the impact, Sherlock was indirectly muttering words that likely had him sounding like a crazed man, all while eyes were cast down to a phone that was literally of no use to him. And even after being spoken to, the consulting detective reacted as if the other man was not even there. Not yet, anyway.

But in the middle of conversing with himself, Sherlock finally glanced up, eyes wide and alive with positive discovery.

"Yes, of course. It was too much.. no too little. Which must mean I'm trapped somewhere between. Possibly preconscious. Ah.." The words came out quickly and without pause and ended in a bit of a chuckle.

Sherlock looked directly at Matt.

"I need more."

[dirtyandtrue]

Matt lifted his heavy eyebrows.

1) This man was stoned. There wasn't enough of a hint to suggest on what but the man was obviously not of sober and sound mind. That was a boon, really, if it was something that Matt might take advantage of later.

2) That made no sense, except in the context of drugs or liquor. If there was one thing was nearly universal, it was drugs and the habits that went with them. If Matt had to bet money on it, he'd bet it was that, that the man was after.

That brought a little smile to his face.

"By the look of it, perhaps not. What are you strung up on?"

If it was PCP, he was going to have to choose a different set of strategies. Some drugs did fascinating things to humans.

[everybody_shutup]

His expression shifted. Standing there staring did Sherlock no favors and after a short, relatively ineffectual moment (to Matt), images of Moriarty's face melded with the other man's while a faint voice repeated two words until everything came back into focus.

Sherlock took one step back, blinked once, twice and then again a third time before his hand came up to sweep aside something only he could see. Yes, he was fully aware the effects of the drugs he took were still in full effect and his mind was reacting as if it were in hyper-drive. As it usually did.

Unfortunately, his state was quite noticeable.

"Not strung up." No, because that would mean I'm dependent and.. well, for this perhaps yes, I am. If only to figure it out. Figure you out.

Only he couldn't figure out the more important questions that - literally - kept popping up everywhere his eyes looked. In the end, one thing was perfectly clear, without any sort of memory of this place, Sherlock was starting from scratch.

"Though hypothetically, if one were looking.."

The other man would no doubt be able to finish that sentence off. Preferably with a quick and painless answer.

[dirtyandtrue]

Addendum: 3) The man might also just be mad.

Matt turned, facing him properly and tucking one hand into the pocket of his well fitted pants. It seemed like it was going to be an eventful evening. Or at least an eventful hour. He'd take it. Better an eventful hour than another uneventful day of mediocrity.

The vampire smiled and the laugh lines and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth made him more handsome, though the smile itself was cocky and sure.

"Then one would easily be able to find someone to provide. What is it that you're looking for, Mr..." He let the question linger, allowing the disheveled mess of a human fill in the blanks.

[everybody_shutup]

Ah, but in the famous words of the Cheshire Cat, "We're all mad here. I'm mad. Your mad." Though contrary to that, Sherlock was in a state that even he felt that could be a.. minute possibility. Until his high wore off. Others would argue, however.

A look of interest flickered in his eye and Sherlock considered 'testing' something. Once he gave his name, there would be a split second where he would be able to decide if Matt knew who he really was, which would then determine whether this was all a dream. Like he suspected.

Naturally, that was what he banked on.

"Watson." The answer came without pause. "And anything of the opiate class, really. I'm not finicky."

[dirtyandtrue]

The look that was leveled at the taller man was an amused, but dry expression. He knew full well the works of Arthur Conan Doyle and his characters. They'd kept him company on some quiet nights many nights in the past. It's been a few decades since he's bothered to crack the books, but Sherlock Holmes and his detective sidekick Watson were well known.

But far be it from him to deny a man his right to a false name.

"Well, Watson," he said, tone full of disbelief but no contrary questions, "The next question is what are you willing to pay for it? You don't seem to be.." Sherlock got another up and down look. "Dripping with funds, at the moment."

[everybody_shutup]

So, quite possibly a dream if the return of his name and the manner of skepticism it was spoken in had anything to do with it. But Sherlock's state was beyond any careful consideration. Not enough to mask that the surname was, indeed, a fake.

Instead of respond to that directly, he glanced down at himself briefly before slipping his hands into his pockets casually.

"Impressive deducing. My turn. Judging by your clever ensemble, I don't think it's the first time one would be in your debt for such a request."

Sherlock looks down the road.

"I need a bank first. Shall we?"

The amount was nowhere near enough to live off of, but that was something he would worry about later. If this was all in his head, then that particular problem it was all irrelevant, wasn't it?

[dirtyandtrue]

Matt chuffed out a small sound, nearly hitting a tone of superficial offence. What a ballsy thing to say.

He liked it.

"By all means," he said with a gesture, falling into stride beside the significantly taller man (shut up he wasn't short, Sherlock was just massive, however lean). He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and flipped open the top.

"I take it you've just arrived?" After fishing out one for himself, Matthew held the open pack out to him, offering one.

[everybody_shutup]

If Matt liked that, then he would be in for a treat the more he was around Sherlock.

"This morning." he answered, looking ahead until he gave the open pack a glance. What the hell. Neither his brother, or John were around to scold him. Sherlock slipped one out.

Hiking up his coat sleeve, long fingers began to peel off the two nicotine patches that stuck to the inside of his left arm. It proved challenging so when the offer of a light came, he let the sleeve fall back down.

"So does," Pausing, he lit the end of the cigarette. "Being here for 3 months yield any kind of useful information about this place?"

He wasn't altogether convinced yet he was out of his own mind. Not yet.

[dirtyandtrue]

'This morning' had been hours before. Matthew had only been up for a few hours, it was late evening already and the sun was well under the horizion. It left him wondering what Sherlock had been doing all that time, considering how he's dressed now.

The nicotine patches are noted and Matthew lit his own cigarette under lifted eyebrows.

"Our glorious overlords don't care one wit about our well-being, generally speaking, and rather treat us like a plague. But the black market trades are jumping, as is the drug trade; police are lacking, as are regulations. It's almost like home," he mused behind another draw.

Dark eyes swing back over to his company. "What have you learned about it so far?"