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theodeon2024-03-08 08:34 pm
Test Drive Meme #1
A Choice to Make
In the midst of your mundane existence, amidst a meal's consumption or perhaps amidst a desperate struggle for survival, you find yourself teetering on the precipice between consciousness and oblivion. Whether it's the mundanity of everyday life or the shock of an unforeseen revelation, the next chapter in your tale is etched in the unfathomable tapestry of destiny. Abruptly, a shimmering azure tear in reality wrenches you from your reality, hurling you into the depths of a foreboding cavern. Within its shadows, two sinister whispers assail your senses, each vying for control over the path you must tread. One beckons from the left, promising dominion and power under the aegis of an enigmatic ruler, while the other lures from the right, pledging a noble crusade for justice and salvation. With each step, the choice you make echoes with the weight of eternity, determining the very fabric of your existence
As you stand at the crossroads of fate, the air thickens with anticipation, suffused with a palpable sense of ominous uncertainty. The leftward passage glimmers with an otherworldly allure, hinting at the seductive allure of authority and supremacy. Yet, the rightward path beckons with an ethereal glow, resonating with the righteous fervor of a hero's quest to vanquish darkness. Each voice, a siren's call to divergent destinies, casts its spell upon your soul, weaving a labyrinth of moral ambiguity. For in this twilight realm where the veil between worlds grows thin, your decision is not merely a choice but a covenant with forces beyond mortal comprehension. Whichever path you elect to traverse, know that the consequences shall echo through eternity, shaping the very essence of your being in ways unfathomable to mortal minds.
- Evil
Emerging from the left tunnel, you step into a labyrinthine city carved from the very bones of the earth, illuminated by flickering torchlight that casts eerie shadows upon the twisted visages of its denizens. Monsters, grotesque and malformed, roam the streets with a purpose that sends shivers down your spine. It becomes chillingly apparent that within this infernal metropolis, your destiny lies entwined with a bid for power at the side of a shadowy sovereign. Amidst the clamor of preparation, the temple to the enigmatic entity known as the First Evil looms ominously, its dark allure drawing in supplicants like moths to a flame. Should your throat grow parched from the fervent chants of devotion, the Cantina offers solace in its crude embrace, a sanctuary that exudes an aura of ancient malevolence amidst its clay and stone walls.
Yet, amidst the sinister ambiance, whispers of knowledge beckon, promising insight into the machinations of this unholy realm. Seekers of truth may find guidance from well-intentioned demons or delve into the esoteric depths of the Stacks, where secrets lie entombed within dusty tomes of forgotten lore. As curiosity compels you to explore further, the Bringers, sinister heralds of the impending darkness, stand ready to lead you to your abode, a cold stone sanctuary where dreams are haunted by the specter of impending conflict. And for those who prefer the solace of steel and the embrace of weaponry, the armory awaits, a chamber resonant with the echoes of impending strife, offering a grim reminder that in this realm, even sleep is fraught with the specter of violence.
2. Good
Venturing through the right-hand tunnel was a pact, a commitment to a harrowing struggle that now unfolds before you. Emerging into the realm beyond, you are met by a spectral figure, a girl whose countenance shifts with each passing moment, a testament to the legion of vampire slayers that populate this accursed domain. She, like her brethren, is both warrior and guide, leading you through the labyrinthine streets with a cryptic explanation that betrays the gravity of the task ahead. Together, you traverse the shadowed avenues, passing landmarks cloaked in enigma, such as The Odeon, a den of debauchery where the echoes of revelry mingle with the cries of the damned. With a sardonic grin, she points towards the gym, a crucible where the art of combat is honed amidst the backdrop of impending doom.
As you journey further into the heart of darkness, the Resurrection Cemetery looms ominously, a sepulchral sentinel guarding the threshold of a towering edifice—the colossal teaching hospital that casts a pall of dread over the surrounding streets. Amidst a labyrinth of silence and apprehension, you arrive at your destination, standing before the facade of the Doubletree Hotel, its ostentatious glamour a stark juxtaposition against the encroaching shadows of desolation. Yet, even as the hotel's opulence beckons, a lingering sense of foreboding whispers tales of recent upheaval, hinting at secrets buried beneath layers of opulent facade.
A Grave to Dig – Resurrection Cemetery
Patrol, it's the nightly routine for slayers, a dance with darkness amidst the tombstones, where the soulless minions of evil lurk in the shadows, ever loyal to the malevolent machinations of The First Evil. A cemetery of this magnitude, its layout intricate and labyrinthine, serves as the perfect battleground for the eternal struggle against the forces of darkness. But it is patrol, right? Surely you're not taking a detour to The Odeon without your trusty stake and crossbow. Strange choices in these perilous times, indeed.
This graveyard pulses with the heartbeat of vampiric activity tonight, more undead rising from their graves than ever before. Will you recruit them into the fold of darkness, their loyalty pledged to The First? Or will you stand as their nemesis, driving a stake through their unbeating hearts? The choice looms before you, a decision that could tip the scales of this eternal conflict, determining whether you become their savior or their midnight snack.
A Party to Crash – The Odeon
Amidst the haunting melodies of an otherworldly band, The Odeon pulsates with the feverish energy of revelers seeking solace in food, drink, and a hell of a time. At the jumpstart of the bash, there’s no doubt you'll get to soak up some of that vibe. But lurking amidst the revelry, there's more than just party plans brewing.
If you've been getting those Slayer senses tinglin' 'bout the graveyard gig, hold onto your stakes 'cause The Odeon's gonna be jumpin' too. Within the shadowed halls of The Odeon, a palpable tension lingers, as The First Evil's malevolent design looms ominously over the unsuspecting patrons. In this twilight realm where the line between good and evil blurs, the clash between opposing forces is inevitable, and it's here, amidst the haunting melodies and whispered secrets, that the true test of one's training and arcane talents shall unfold.
tara maclay | buffy the vampire slayer
If asked, Tara's not sure she could begin to describe what happened.
She had returned to the earth; her spirit had returned to the flow of magic in flora and fauna and fire. A witch of the earth, her very being had become one with magic. She had been everywhere, and nowhere. She had been a flock of birds in the sky, and the trembling hooves of a newborn deer, and the tender sapling of a oak tree. There had been a contentedness, a sense of completeness, in whatever remnants of her soul had clung to the energy she had dispersed into.
And then all of a sudden, she can see. Tara has legs again, and she's standing on cold stone, and her eyes are tearing up as she's squinting and struggling to adjust. She has hands that she lifts to her face, shaking, trying to block out the feeble light in the cavern she finds herself in. Her chest heaves as she has to breathe again, struggling to remember how.
The next few minutes pass in a daze. Without thinking, she chooses the path of good, and she winds up in front of a hotel, foreboding and desolate. The carpet of the lobby is more forgiving against her bare feet, but everything feels overwhelming. Bright. Hard. Her body feels clumsy, and alien.
Dimly, she realizes she's in a simple white dress, and she knows that she must have been buried in it.
When someone approaches, Tara can barely hear what they're saying. Everything sounds grating and hostile to her eardrums. "Where--" she starts, the word little more than air, and tries again, "where... is this?"
All Tara can do is wander, lost.
The sound of distant music pulls her in. Fond memories tug at the back of her mind, and that's when Tara starts to remember. She was a person, once. She had a life. And she doesn't remember most of it right now, but bits and pieces are flocking back to her like wounded birds, limping into her awareness.
She remembers another club like this. Small. Usually packed. Live music. She remembers the lights shining off red hair, and restrained slayer strength in fingers that curl around a glass, and a crooked smile under dark hair, and--
Goddess. It's so overwhelming.
Tara can't bring herself to go inside. Inside promises too much sensation. Loud music. Bodies everywhere. Smoke. The thought of it is... more than she can bare right now.
Instead, Tara huddles outside, arms tucked tight around her chest, hair in her face, cold against the chill of the night but this glimpse of humanity is something she finds herself wanting to cling to even as it pains her. The back door slams open, and Tara cringes away from the light and noise that spills out. "S-sorry," she stutters out, taking a step back so she's not in their way, unaware that there's fire crackling between her fingers.
[ 🫡 what is up my dudes. tara is taken from after her death, with the assumption that she didn't go to an afterlife like heaven, but rather became one with the flow of magic in an earth witch version of what happens after death. she's going to be discombobulated for a long while, not super talkative, and trying to get her bearings. i'm open for wildcard prompts! ]
The Odeon
Maybe haunting the gym tomorrow will net better results.
She hit the Cleveland street, bundled up in a man's coat she snatched on the way to the door. It was available and being a ghost didn't immune her from cold. On top of the many, many, serious problems with her 'life' (as it were), the fact that she could get cold was insulting. She almost started back to the hotel when she noticed the woman. She looked... well, honestly bad. Like- there was freaked out and then there was- that. It wasn't her problem, she should go home. She didn't have to butt in.
...but maybe she could help. Maddie scrunched her eyes closed a moment, then walked over to the woman. "Hey, you alright?" The concern in Maddie's voice was genuine, and her attention mostly on the shellshocked stranger. Save Maddie's hasty sidestep of a trio of drunk guys who clearly did not see her. Let's not focus on that right now, if at all possible.
no subject
The fire flickering at her fingers flares with her surprise, and Tara can't quite muffle her gasp as it burns her, and then snuffs out. She cradles her singed fingertips, and does her best to come up with an answer. Even something as simple as thinking feels like wading through a thick bog.
"I don't know," she manages, lost. Finally, she looks up, and her gaze immediately goes from the stranger to the air beside her, because--
Tara's always had a talent for seeing auras, and this girl's is... faded. Not quite there. She's a spirit.
Despite everything, Tara's expression creases in sympathy. Is this ghost stuck here? Has someone pulled her to this plane for some reason? So many questions she wants to ask, and yet she can't manage to say them. Instead, all she comes up with is: "Are you... alright?"
no subject
"We should probably get off this street," For a number of fire related, people related reasons. At the bare minimum all this seemed a lot for the woman, but on top of that Maddie is well aware what talking to her looks like. "You'll draw a lot of attention if you're conjuring fire and talking to people nobody can see."
Which is as close to admitting to what she is as she's willing to do right at this moment.
no subject
She doesn't want unwanted attention right now. So she moves, still cradling her hand, gaze numbly fixed ahead of her. Like blinders on a horse; she can only handle so much stimulus right now, and keeping her vision focused directly ahead helps a little.
"Yes," she eventually answers in a murmur, staring down at her burned fingertips. "That was magic. It... doesn't normally do that."
Two short sentences and her throat feels raw already.
Tara looks up at the ghost, beseeching. "Do you know where we are? I... don't know how I got here."
no subject
And her physical body, that was kind of traumatic to lose.
Maddie's expectations of deep conversation are low, she's looking for a few clues to how she can help. If she can help. This seems above what a girl who can't even offer hugs can manage. "Do you know where the hotel is, did you wander off during the tour? Anyway, best I can offer is this is Cleveland, that was the one club all the local heroes drink at. And we're suppose to save the world?"
Still sounded fake when she said it.
i!
The first thing he noticed, actually, was the fact the young woman was barefoot. Then, he took in everything else, and fuck if he didn't resonate with the expression on her face more deeply than he was ever likely to admit. There was no reason for him to be an asshole right now so, quite simply, he wasn't.
"Good fucking question." There was no anger in his voice, just a sliver of frustration that had nothing to do with her. "Asked the same thing myself. Ohio, apparently? Never been though, so I've just gotta take people's word about that."
He paused a moment, frowning more in concern than anything else, and added, in a notably gentler tone, "Are you okay? There's-" he gestured behind him at the couches and chairs in the lobby "-plenty of places if you need to sit and take a breath."
no subject
Tara blinks slowly, a crease in her eyebrows as she struggles to comprehend that answer. She had died in California, and she assumes she was buried there too. How is she in Ohio? Why is she alive? ...Why is she both alive and in Ohio, of all places?
She both hears and doesn't hear his gentle suggestion to sit; there's a roaring in her ears, and everything is so loud. She can hear a foot scuff over the carpet, and some wooden floorboards squeaking, and other confused people. Tara's not the only one that has mysteriously wound up in Ohio, it seems, and she tries to cling onto that fact, like an anchor in a roaring, chaotic sea. She doesn't recognize the man speaking to her, but if he's in the same situation, he might be a friend.
Tara presses a hand to her temple, pained. Goddess. Even thinking hurts.
"There was... a portal," she recalls. "A spirit of slayers. And then... here. Did that happen to you too?"
no subject
He wanted to do something, wished he knew how to help, but comfort wasn't usually his strong suit. He could be patient though, so he didn't mind the lack of response to his suggestion. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed, though maybe in different ways.
"Oh, yeah- that happened to me." He nodded. "There was a weird cave, too. So, the tour guide girl was the spirit of slayers? I guess that explains why her face was doing that thing, but-...no idea that all actually means."
no subject
Finally, she sinks into a nearby chair. It feels easier than standing, at least.
"Justice and salvation," she whispers, gaze fixed on the carpet. "There were two paths. I think I must have seen someone picking the other path. They were... led downward. We were led here."
To Ohio, apparently. Something about that almost feels funny.
Tara finally raises her head, and does her best to look around the hotel, gaze darting about, rabbit-quick. Are they meant to stay here? It sounds like the guy she's talking to doesn't know any more than she does, but she appreciates that he's trying to help. Maybe they can figure it out together.
"Maybe they won't tell us our purpose just yet." Tara lifts a shaky hand, rubbing her temple. "But there has to be one."
no subject
Nodding, he considered things for a moment. "So...if anyone who listened to the promises of power was taken somewhere else, that's really not comforting." He wasn't imagining them as potential enemies, not really, not yet. He could only think about how they might end up as victims, bargaining chips, forced to do things they didn't want to or led to believe they were doing something necessary by...he didn't know. It probably involved shady shit, though. Collateral damage.
Huffing out a breath, he looked away for a moment. "Not sure what I think about the justice and salvation thing, either. Sounds like-" he made a face. It sounded like bullshit, really, but he didn't say that. "-like something I shouldn't make the cut for. Guess I should be flattered someone thinks I'm capable, though."
The Odeon (cw: tobacco/smoking, feel free to tell me if you'd rather I rework it)
Either way, she's not inside long before she opts to duck out back for a smoke. She's not even paying attention, really, to who's around her as she slaps a cigarette out of the package and pops it between her lips-
And then the girl next to her apologizes.
She pauses for a sec to evaluate. Not a threat. Just a granola chick, definitely not somebody she'd expect to see at a club like this. She shrugs as she pulls out her lighter.
"No big. We're five-by-five."
And then, as she lights the cigarette, she realizes a couple things. One, she swears she's seen this chick before. She can't remember when, but the face is real familiar. Hopefully that's not a big deal.
Two, that spark of fire in the other girl's hand isn't another lit cigarette. It looks like magic. She takes a drag on the cigarette, plucks it from her lips, and nods toward the other girl's hand, trying to keep the wariness from her voice- granola here looks freaked enough already.
"... you might wanna watch that, though."
no subject
"Sorry," she repeats numbly. Her magic isn't working right; not that she's tried to do anything with it yet, but it hadn't been out of control like that since she was a young teen. But now-- now that she's back, and alive, her body feels wrong and awkward and too solid, and her magic feels like doesn't quite fit right anymore.
Five by five. Something about that sparks a recognition in her, but try as she might, Tara can't think of what it is. Everything is hazy, and hard to grasp, and all she can feel is the chill pavement under her feet and the vibration of the music shaking out through the wall she's huddled against.
"Are you new here?" Tara finds herself asking, the words sounding like they're coming from a great distance. The woman beside her seems so relaxed, like everything is normal. "There was a portal. Did you see it too?"
no subject
"Around here? No. Portal? Yeah. Good and evil, or whatever." She flicks ash off the cigarette, takes another drag. "Kind of an old tune for me at this point, not exactly blowing me away."
She takes a glance at the other girl again.
"How 'bout you, you from here? 'Cuz, no offense, you're not exactly giving me 'local' vibes."
doubletree
"It's... I've missed you," she confessed, her voice trembling with a mix of sorrow and relief. With a determined swallow, she composed herself, unwilling to burden Tara with her own emotional turmoil. "You're in Cleveland, Ohio. It's 2024. We're in the midst of another apocalypse, and that boom you just heard? Yeah, that was my brain imploding," she added, a wry smirk flickering across her lips, a shield against the overwhelming gravity of the situation.
"How are you... Are you okay?" Buffy's concern manifested in the slight furrow of her brow, a silent echo of the anguish she had felt when Tara had been cruelly torn from their lives, leaving behind a void that time could never quite fill. It seemed like only yesterday that they had mourned her untimely departure, and now, here she stood like a spectral visitor from the past, stirring dormant emotions and igniting a flicker of hope in the darkness.
no subject
"Buffy?" It's said like a surprise, wide eyes confused and lost and then all of a sudden found.
She barely hears Buffy's answer. Cleveland, Ohio, 2024; she'll think on that later. For now, Tara's more concerned with reaching out, fingertips brushing against Buffy's arm and then clinging on like she's an anchor. Is Buffy dead? Is this an afterlife masquerading as Ohio? Or has Tara been brought back? Why? How? Everything is too much, even her thoughts feel like they're scraping the inside of her skull like barbed wire. But Buffy's here.
"I don't know," she finally answers that last question, expression crumpling. "I don't know how I got here-- I know I died. I was gone. I returned to the earth. To magic. But now I'm here, and..." Tara's breath hitches, almost a sob. "Everything feels so wrong. I feel wrong."
the odeon
It doesn't cross his mind immediately that her scent is familiar to him because it's one he never thought he'd be in the presence of again. He also hasn't paid her much mind, so there's that. He's talking to her, but Spike has a way of continuing without the participation of anyone around him when he so wishes, probably from years of hanging around people sharing absolutely nothing but mutual dislike.
But, then, he looks and . . .
He's at a surprising loss for words. Not much left in the world capable of shocking him and stranger things have happened, haven't they? Why not her? Why not here? Spike swallows, the beginning of recognition creeping up on him. Bridging the gaps between life and death is never without its struggles, no matter the circumstances. Hard to say exactly, if that's the case here. Tara was never the most spirited of the group, but he likes to think he knows the difference between socially anxious and shellshocked.
"You look cold," he finally deduces.
Spike doesn't think she'll snub the offer, though she has every right to. He steps away from the door, away from the light, and pulls off his coat.
"Here. Take it." He holds it out to drape on her shoulders, if she'll allow it. Otherwise, it might hang haphazardly for a few seconds until he takes the hint. They might not have been close, but they always had some sort of understanding of each other.