cityofsin_ooc | Test Drive 012

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Test Drive 012

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. Network: There's a network device in your pocket - or at least a familiar object that seems to work in mysterious ways. Perhaps you can take to that and ask for a bit of help? Or maybe you'd prefer to have a little fun with all of this. Surely someone will reply.

08. Wild Card:Choose your own adventure in the game's setting!

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Ronan, in the way that he was wont, had begun to turn inwards against the bustling street enveloping him. This was far different from drifting away. Instead of becoming distracted, he tended to zero in on one particular detail and mash at it until it turned to pulp. Only once it was pulp was he able to move on.

In this case, the chosen target was a slight divot in the cobbles underneath him and the mashing device his finger. He ran his nail over it, again and again, until he could feel the tender skin beneath the nailbed becoming exposed. Still he carried on. Until—

Adam's voice broke through the clamour more viscerally than any degree of physical pain Ronan could have ever produced in himself at that moment. His head jolted up as if drawn on a string.

One moment later, he had yanked himself to his feet and jerked forward, momentarily immune to his bruises, and was leaning in conspiratorily to mutter in Adam's ear.

"Thank god you're here, asshole." He glanced around, failing to note Adam's unusual attire. "Mind telling me what mad shit Gansey's got us tied up in this time?"

Edited 2017-06-01 19:20 (UTC)

He'd probably arrived at a good time, given that. Self-destructive tendencies were easy enough to fall into at the best of times, and these were far from the best of times. Not that Ronan knew that just yet.

He was sure that those dragged-out vowels of his accent were making a comeback as he'd said Ronan's name, and he was sure they'd stick around for the long haul until he figured out what was going on. But so far, so 'good' - such as it was, anyway - because Ronan didn't seem at all different from the norm. Either the City was fucking with him better than he expected, or this was actually Ronan in the flesh.

Part of Adam thought it might have been the latter, because the City wouldn't be presenting him with someone questioning their own presence, he was sure. It wasn't that clever, no matter what people said.

"Nothing. Gansey's not here. Wish he was, though - it'd be way easier to blame all of this on him. It seems right up his alley," he explained, words not actually explaining anything at all. "When'd you get here?"

"Probably thirty minutes ago?" Ronan replied, falling into step with Adam's matter-of-fact approach almost immediately. It might have seemed absurd to anybody else to discuss technicalities in light of all that had just happened, but thankfully, Ronan's extensive dreaming career had fielded him for a certain degree of spontaneity. Among other things.

"I woke up in some alleyway, where people were selling street food out of back doors. Is there anywhere here that isn't a store or something?" He craned his neck around, earning himself a sharp throb in his right shoulder. "Anyways, these fuckers mugged me. Little did they know not all Aglionby boys are stupid enough to carry wads of cash on them. I fended them off and ran into the street... Chainsaw was here, but she flew off—"

He flashed a menacing grin, and then the expression fell away as quickly as it had come. For no apparent reason, he gave Adam's shoulder a little shove. Leaning in a little closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Do you think this has to do with Greenmantle?"

Edited 2017-06-01 23:55 (UTC)

A nod, quick and succinct. Matter-of-factly always seemed to be the best approach for things, so far as he was concerned: it had never failed him yet. Just a few breaths in and out, and you were good. From there, answers could almost always be found logically.

Almost, anyway.

"You're in the Gardens of Pleasure - everything here is a store. Try another district. You'll probably find an underground fight club or something," he suggested, shrugging one shoulder. "Or a bar. There are plenty of those."

Adam lapsed into silence after a moment, eyebrows arching slightly at the mention of the mugging. There was a lot of that going around - he too had been mugged upon arrival. Maybe people could just tell who the most vulnerable were around here. He was stuck on that (and the fact that Chainsaw came along with him) when Ronan gave him that little shove, just hard enough to lightly jostle him back into reality. He thought about the question, the ever-present line between his brows deepening briefly. "I doubt it. I haven't seen any sign of him either."

There were several reasons why Ronan scarcely asked questions. If he wanted to know something, he usually taught it to himself. Anything else he didn't really give a shit about, so there was no point bothering other people about it. He found most people didn't know what they were talking about anyway.

Adam was different. He'd always been different. Not only did he have the answers, but he had good answers, answers that made sense. Maybe that was because the two of them spoke the same language, if not always the exact same dialect. As Ronan listened to Adam explain in his familiar, meticulous fashion, he had to bite back sheer hosts of questions that threatened to erupt with such force even as to interrupt the other boy. It was insane.

Thankfully he was able to hold his peace. When Adam finished speaking, Ronan's brow was almost just as furrowed as the other boy. He glanced over his shoulder with a scowl.

"Okay," he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

Adam had to agree - people so rarely had the answers that were sought out, it was almost pointless to bother asking. He'd found the odd answer since his own arrival, but most created even more questions. From there, he was sure he'd just have to dig into it all himself. In that sense, he was actually quietly grateful for Ronan's sudden appearance: it would be so much easier with someone he understood, someone with whom he shared a similar wavelength.

That and, maybe, he might have missed him. The City was a big place, and while Adam prided himself on being self-sufficient, it was nice to have one of his best friends around.

If nothing else, he didn't feel like he had to pretend that he was actually okay with all this. He wanted to be on his own, doing something for himself, but this wasn't even remotely on his terms. If Ronan was pissed, then it was because he had every right to be.

At the lone question that burst forth, Adam had to sigh: it was a tight sound, like something that had been coiled up and finally released. "I got a job." Or three. "From there, everyone seems to just be...living. Like this is normal." Instead of complete bullshit.

"Where'd they put you? You should have a key."

In the deeper fathoms of Ronan's mind, he was nowhere near as independent as he seemed. He was always stewing over something, reacting to a jest, hanging out with a cronie. At the heart of it was a need for stimulation, for movement, otherwise he feared he might sink into the selfsame fathoms that housed these intractable truths.

Lost in a foreign city without his wallet or any idea who anybody was. Guiltily, his first choice companion might have been Gansey, only for the reason that Ronan wouldn't have had to think as hard about what he was going to do if his scholarly friend were there to do it for him. Gansey was good at giving orders, even when they weren't obvious ones. A certain posture at his desk, a tone to his voice, and Ronan found himself bending to a will outside his own.

Still...

Something thrilled him as he stood there, studying Adam's face. Parrish was different. As lucid as his answers were, he never gave it all away. He was a mystery in his frankness. Instead of a guardian, Adam was a... challenge.

Companion, Ronan thought silently, before he could stop himself.

"Hell if I know," he grunted, searching his pockets. To his amazement, there was not only a key, but also a phone lodged against his thigh. Miracle his muggers hadn't pilfered it. He took out the key and held it in the palm of his hand, where both of them could see it. "How do I tell?"

It was hard to be entirely independent; probably no one could blame Ronan for being less so than he cultivated. Especially in the face of a place like this. Even Adam briefly balked, uncertain of what exactly he had tumbled into and unsure of who to ask. Answers were tragically difficult to come by.

In fact, even with Gansey's journal left for him in a welcome basket and the ability to hear the ley lines beneath the City, Adam found himself rather at a loss. He had no one to bounce thoughts off, not really, and he was left restless and rattled. To say nothing of everything else going on with him.

In some ways, he sort of dreaded having Ronan there. Ronan was almost too good - not that he'd say it out loud - for this place.

And if Adam's methods were proving baffling... Well, this was the only way he knew how to cope.

The key was studied intently and curiously for any distinguishing marks. His own key had been obvious, partly because it belonged to the nicest building in the whole damn place, but this one was a bit less so. But there was a little tag attached: Adam thought he recognized it from visiting Eliot's building. "Gardens, I think. You're not far, if it's where I think it is."

He cracked a little smirk. "Think you can handle living alone? There's no one to bug if you can't sleep."

"Alone?" Ronan barked, before he could stop himself. He clenched his fist around the key, as if to stuff it in his pocket, or, even more obtusely, to toss it away. After a moment of intense brooding, he slowly unfolded his fingers once again. The motion was like a flower blooming in the spring, albeit a little rigidly.

"Periwinkle Street," he muttered, studying the key even closer. He chuckled darkly under his breath. "Fuck that place."

Maybe it was something about how many people were around. Ronan had never done very well with large crowds. Or maybe, it was his aching leg. It hurt like fuck. Most likely, though, it was the fact that he was finally starting to process a little of everything that was happening to him, and unlike ten minutes ago, he had an audience—and a familiar one at that.

It was so much easier to fall apart when there was someone watching. So much easier to justify making a scene when Adam stood as a buffer in between his antics and his own venemous self-loathing.

He clenched his hand around the key one more time, squeezing it until the wards dug into his palm. His jaw was as tense as a vice. "Fuck it," he reiterated dangerously.

The change in tension and atmosphere around them was palpable; Adam could almost taste it. It occurred to him that he so rarely saw Ronan outside of 'his element' - some form of element anyway, whether it was the Barns or Aglionby or Monmouth or even St Agnes - that this was...different. Jarring. Not exactly unsurprising - it was like finding the right piece of the puzzle and finally seeing a full picture, rather than scattered bits that didn't quite make sense.

It also occurred to Adam that he wasn't Gansey, that he couldn't get Ronan back on the rails if he went off of them. He could certainly let him work through it on his own, but around here? Maybe that wasn't the best plan.

He decided, in that moment, that they'd have to stick together. At least for the first day or so, until Ronan felt like going off on his own. So with a slight shrug that probably came off more casually than he felt inside, Adam suggested: "There's always my place. I've got an extra room."

"It does? Let's go," Ronan said immediately. It sort of came out as a bark, but his body had visibly loosened up. He stormed past Adam only to come to a lurching halt as his leg buckled underneath him.

"Fuck!"

He stumbled to the left, catching himself on the back of a bench. Even the smooth varnish cloaked over its natural wood seemed eager to sell him something. He gave his head a little shake, blinking as the pain subsided. He inhaled through wide nostrils and pushed on, too embarrassed to turn around to see if Adam was following. Never mind he had no idea where Adam's place was.

It was Adam after all, not Gansey, who had witnessed the entire spectacle. And the last time Ronan checked, it wasn't Gansey he had a god-sized crush on.

Really, it worked both ways. Adam liked his independence and his freedom and all that, but the apartment was way too big for one person. And if he was perfectly honest, there was always something weirdly reassuring about Ronan's presence, like those nights when he crashed on the floor of the tiny apartment in St Agnes. He wasn't going to overthink it.

But at the exclamation - more one of surprise and actual distress than the usual punctuation he seemed to use it for; it was jarring for the sheer lack of poetry that seemed inherent in the single syllable - caught him off-guard. He'd been ready for a casual, leisurely pace a couple steps behind his friend, and all he got was a clear image of that stumble.

He wasn't sure what it said that he felt both an immediate spark of concern - one that barely made it past a faint frown - and curiosity - he wasn't injured last time I saw him. For a moment, he lingered behind, far enough that it didn't really constitute 'following'. Just a moment, though. Then his mind caught up to everything and he called himself back to attention.

"You okay, Lynch?" Adam asked, trying to keep as much concern from his voice as he strode forward to catch up. The entirety of his phrasing was intended to piece together a puzzle he didn't previously realise was there, while simultaneously remaining nonchalant enough that it wasn't taken for fussing. He continued: "I can't carry you if you break your ankle or something. You'd have to wait till I grabbed my bike, or just suffer."

Where somebody of Adam's mind might solace himself with words, Ronan had only ever found true comfort in his body. There were seldom things more therapeutic than roaring down a shimmering highway, feeling his engine rumble beneath him, savouring the fug of exhaust, or drinking until his veins burned with ethanol, or perhaps hurling himself into something likely to leave a mark.

That was what had just happened.

And, despite his jarring expletive, he was beginning to feel better.

The pain in his leg wasn't the fun kind. It twinged and needled persistently. It was probably going to hamper him for the rest of the day. At least. But at least it gave him something to think about other than the lonely apartment waiting for him somewhere in this sea of malls and mercantiles, betrothed to the key in his hand and stamped with his name for no apparent reason.

"Dude," he said, his voice dipping with a dry laugh. "This is worse than that time I landed wrong jumping off the pier. Fuuuuuuck." He tested it gingerly, making various faces. "Whatever. Let's just go."

As long as it didn't last much longer than the brief inexplicable moment - for normally, Adam could see exactly what the problem was, and the expletives were just a way of getting that out - he wouldn't be too concerned. Still a little concerned, but that was partly because it begged a handful of questions that he hadn't really thought of, despite them being relatively obvious.

Namely: how did time work here? Were he and Ronan from the same time and place? Or was something out of line here?

For now, it seemed like Ronan had it all well in hand. Until such a time as that changed, Adam would merely keep an eye on him. He made a face in return - solidarity - and nodded a little, leading the way a little slower than before. "On the bright side, now you've got a couple of days to get used to this place before you start wreaking havoc on it."

Ronan glanced at Adam over his shoulder, his teeth spreading wide into a classically terrifying grin. He nodded a couple times. There was nothing like talking about a good round of destruction, self- or otherwise, to get him going.

"And," he said, giving Adam's shoulder another little shove. "I assume you're in on this?"

That was more like it. He could work with that, with the same old Ronan as always. Not that he blamed him for feeling a little more vulnerable than usual; they were used to weird shit, but this took the cake by far.

Adam responded to the remark and the shove with a quiet snort of amusement. "On which part of it?"

Ronan snorted right back, but much less quietly than Adam. "The wreaking havoc part. Duh." He took another step forward and swore. "Come on leg. Get with the picture."

"Then yes. I don't think I have much choice in the matter, though," he smirked, eyeing Ronan for another moment. He always managed to say yes to havoc-based plans, even if he knew better. They were always a little bit of a bad idea. But they were fun.

First things first, though: they needed to get back to his place.

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Test Drive 012

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call it a wrap? c: