cityofsin_ooc | Test Drive Meme 010

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!test drive

Test Drive Meme 010

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.

cityofsin | cityofsin_logs | cityofsin_ooc
Rules | FAQ | Taken Characters | Reserves | Applications

→ 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!

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It was a dizzying sensation. One second Margo was walking a hallway inside of Castle Whitespire, the next her haute couture heels were clicking against a cement sidewalk. Her eyebrows instantly wrinkled as her defenses went up. Obviously this was magic of some kind. She hadn’t used the button, but somehow she’d been transported to a place that very clearly was not Fillory.

“…the fuck?” She muttered under her breath. There was small comfort in the fact that this wasn’t some deserted, dystopian landscape. People were actually walking the sidewalk with her. Margo took pause to side-eye some of them even though it was her that stood out like a sore thumb with her crown settled right where it belonged on her head.

“Hey!” Margo stopped a passerby in their tracks, grabbing them by the arm in a way that was uncharacteristically gentle for her mood. “What is this place and how am I supposed to get back where I belong?”

Erik was startled by someone grabbing him. People didn't grab him. They fucking knew better.

She might have felt her crown tighten a little on her head as he reacted instinctively to the assault. Then he stopped himself, realizing what he was dealing with.

"Oh." She was new. She'd feel the crown relax. "You can't leave. Until the City lets you go." He pulled his arm out of her grip and tugged his jacket down.

Her hands instinctively went to her crown even after it returned to its original shape. Something like surprise registered on her face. Margo hadn’t been expecting to run into another magic user right away, which was what she assumed Erik to be. Her eyes narrowed slightly for a fraction of a second before she considered it was probably a bad idea to piss off the locals.

“Until the City lets me go?” She echoed. “I have serious business somewhere else. This is bullshit.” Margo shook her head. It was all misdirected anger up until a point. Then she had a personal grievance to bring up with him. “And just to be clear, using magic just to screw with a newcomer??” She gestured to her crown. “That’s douchebag behavior.”

"You grabbed me in the street." He wasn't about to disavow her of that misconception yet. "Where does that fall on the scale of douchebag to..." He eyed her crown dubiously. "Princess? We all have important business waiting at home. Don't worry. You won't miss it. In the meantime, get a job and try to stay out of trouble," he advised, turning to walk away.

Holy shit, lady.

“High queen,” she snapped, for some reason highly offended at being referred to as a princess. As the man walked away, though, Margo’s expression softened slightly. She rolled her eyes and reluctantly prepared to admit fault.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little on edge here.” Her arms folded across her chest. Margo had never felt more like a fish out of water, and so instantaneously at that. This was not the world for her. How was she supposed to get along here?

He turned and looked at her, appraising her for a moment.

"High Queen of what?"

Oh, good. Something got through to this guy. It might not have been the apology as she'd expected, but it was something.

"High Queen of Fillory." And that would mean nothing to him unless he'd read the books as a child. "It's a world separate from Earth?" Her eyebrows raised expectantly. Maybe that would be explanation enough.

"You're from a different planet?" Erik clarified.

She tilted her head from side to side. Could Fillory be considered a different planet? Margo was tired and didn't feel like explaining that her mode of transportation from world to world was a magic button.

"Sure, let's go with that."

The native she'd grabbed was just opening his mouth to speak when he saw something over her shoulder. A second later, he was being shoved away from her by someone else's hand -- a very tall, curly-haired someone, who spoke as he moved with a firm, resolute tone:

"Get your filthy arm out of her hand."

The native balked. "She grabbed me!"

"Beat it," Eliot spat out, and gave the man another push.

The native backed off and slumped away, muttering, "Asshole." Eliot had already stopped paying attention to him.

"Mar..." As he turned, his eyes took in the crown, then traveled downward to really see the rest of her outfit. His eyebrows shot upwards. "...go. Wow. Holy Game of Thrones. What are you wearing?"

The surprise was the only thing stopping him from hugging her right this second. God, it was so good to see her.

Margo was all too willing to let her best friend hurry the stranger along. After all, she’d acted like royalty long before she’d ever actually claimed a throne and Eliot was Brakebills royalty right along with her. She gave him a small smile. He really was a welcome sight.

Eliot’s state of dress must have caught Margo’s attention around the same time he caught sight of her clothes. She eyed him, grateful that he was in this mess with her, but seriously confused. He looked sharp as always, but didn’t look the part of High King. “What am I wearing? I think I’m rocking the Fillorian fashion. What are you wearing? Why did you change?”

Suddenly, she had the appearance of someone who’d been struck by a revelation. “This isn’t you, is it?” Margo rolled her eyes and gave a slow nod of her head. “The golem. Right. God, the stress of the throne is affecting my IQ.”

He may not have known why the fuck she was talking about a golem, but there was enough context in the rest of what she said that the pieces started falling into place. And still, Eliot needed a second to confirm that he was really hearing what he thought he was hearing. One hand rested gently on Margo's arm, and he looked down at her with wide, focused eyes.

"Throne," he echoed. "Fillorian throne. As in, you're royalty?"

As in, they'd made it to Fillory?

A deep sigh escaped Margo’s lips. “Please don’t go turning into Henry the Sixth on me here, El.” Using her hand, she gestured back and forth between the two of them. “We are royalty. Remember? High king and queen of Fillory?”

She frowned a little. Was this another curse? Regardless, Margo was already worried sick about her best friend. If he didn’t remember such important details then something was clearly up. “Tell me you remember.” Her voice was suddenly a little smaller. She was scared for him, for all of them. Who could have anticipated that ruling a kingdom would be so hard? It seemed like there was always some new threat. Now insanity? This was just stupid. Margo frowned slightly as she looked at Eliot. She was genuinely concerned for him.

They were royalty. High King and Queen, like the Chatwins themselves. And Margo was talking like it was nothing new, like it was established — well, it would be, if she was going around in a crown and Fillorian couture.

For a moment, the stunned look on Eliot's face wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't say he remembered, but there was more to it than not remembering. He couldn't remember something he hadn't lived.

But since she was definitely looking at him like he was crazy, he did his best to shake himself out of his trance, which manifested as several blinks and a bemused smile. He rested both hands on her shoulders. I'm here. It's okay.

"Okay, we — have a lot to talk about. The short version is..." But did he start with the fucked-up time business, or the part about being stuck, or...? "...there really isn't one. We need a place with chairs and drinks. Lots of drinks. Let's get you out of the cold."

He was turning to lead her on a path down the sidewalk, but he wasn't going to let go of her entirely, if he could help it. One hand in hers, or an arm around her shoulders.

Honestly, Margo couldn’t find it within herself to stop being worried, but Eliot was a little bit of a comfort for her. She smiled a tight-lipped smile and nodded, agreeing that getting out of the cold was a good idea and getting drinks was even better. Her arm slipped around his waist with ease, like it belonged there.

“Here’s hoping this place has better booze than Fillory.” Margo smirked. It was a joke, but a sincere prayer of sorts. In all of the time that she’d spent away from home in Castle Whitespire she hadn’t had a single decent alcoholic beverage save for the drinks she’d taken from Eliot’s flask.

“So…” She turned her head and looked up at Eliot. “How long have you been here? Because I’m getting the feeling it’s been longer than I think.”

"That and more," Eliot promised her in response to the question of booze. Not that he'd know from experience, but if Fillory was lacking in the alcohol department, there was a good chance it was scant on other intoxicants. At least in comparison to the City.

As for her other question: "Yeah. Welcome back to the headache that is Time and Our Lives." He managed to make it sound like the title of a soap opera. It wasn't difficult. "It's been a little over three months since I dropped out of the Neitherlands."

Which was certainly long enough to establish a solid mental database of bars in each district. The one he steered them towards was a dim, hushed cocktail establishment, where each table was ensconced in its own little alcove for the purposes of privacy. Eventually, Margo would get the grand introduction to the City she deserved, but for now? They needed a hole in the wall. Somewhere they wouldn't be bothered or noticed overmuch.

The promise of libations lifted Margo’s spirits a little bit, not that seeing Eliot wasn’t enough to bring a smile to her face. It was just that hopping to yet another world had left her a little dizzy and, well, that called for some decent alcohol.

“Seriously?” Her eyebrows raised. “God, I’ll never stop hating how time works differently in different worlds. I mean, apparently you’ve never…” Been a high king in Fillory. Margo couldn’t finish her sentence. She just put her hand to her forehead, shook her head, and sighed. “I don’t know. I’m beginning to get that every day we’re redefining crazy, so…” She shrugged.

The place Eliot led them to wasn’t so bad, and Margo had been dreading the worst knowing their history. She liked the vibe it gave off. Slipping into a seat, she smiled across the table at Eliot.

“So, is this where you’ve been sipping martinis for three months?” She leaned forward slightly.

Timing was everything. If Margo had gotten to the city a few weeks earlier, she would have found Eliot in a very different state. But given how on-the-rocks things had been between them when he'd dropped in here? He was more than ready to seize the moment and push the reset button on all of it.

"Among other places," he half-shrugged. The question of where to start was still hovering, though at the same time, the conversation was already settling into a comfortable flow. If they just went with it, they'd find their way.

"Trust me, we don't even have it the worst. There's a guy here in his twenties who spent time being roommates with his grown-up son."

[ For tagging my Kilgrave :D ]

Oh, someone she knew. And hated her. Hooray. Just what this day needed.

"Wow, chill, whatever your name is." She figured recognition would set in a moment and then she wouldn't have to explain that she didn't know shit.

Margo tilted her head forward, eyebrows wrinkled as she finally figured who she was looking at. "Julia?"

Great. She was a stranger in a strange land and her fate was in the hands of Quentin's surly childhood friend. Things went down the toilet fast in this place. Wherever that was. "Where are we?"

Oh, hey. She was kind of just expecting 'hedge bitch,' so that kind of disarms her and makes her feel shitty for being, well... a bitch.

"Yeah, I have no clue. Have you seen anyone else?" Like Quentin.

"Do I look like I'm a beacon of knowledge here? I'm just as clueless as you." She rolled her eyes. "Great. The blind leading the blind. Exactly how I wanted to start my day."

Even when trying to cooperate, Margo just couldn't seem to shake the bitch in her. What could she say? Julia kind of brought it out in her. She was trying to play nice, though. It wouldn't do anyone any good to bicker when they could be trying to get back to New York.

"Okay, so we've established in very clear and passive aggressive terms that we don't know anything, so now can we..?" She just makes a 'get on with it' gesture with her hands.

"But seriously, what's your name? We haven't been introduced yet, as far as I'm aware."

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Test Drive Meme 010

Margo Hanson | The Magicians

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tfw when you had to make a new icon just for this tag

the rainbow bridge??

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this is your fault

I take full responsibility!

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