theodeon | Test Drive Meme #1

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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Arrival - Good
[CW: Vampire-related injury, blood, questioning of one's mental state]
And the Malkavian bat, blinder than all the rest, swooped down and managed to miss the entire elephant. Aha! said the benighted Malkavian, as it flapped past. The others are making a huge fuss over an elephant that is really a big lot of nothing! Well that is what I shall become.

She didn't know why that was the first thought to cross her mind, as she followed the mystery girl. Especially given the fact that she was pretty sure she was dead. Dead-dead, anyway. Still, the old parable actually made her smile a little bit as she sat up on the floor of the unfamiliar room, scabs itching. The Elephant and the Blind Vampire Bats was a story Diana used to tell the children on the compound. An easy way to remember the different kinds of Cainites. The Malkavian verse had always struck her as something of a joke. The sort that Artemis would play on other Cainites, when she was pretending to be loopier than she was. Like Hamlet or Odysseus or Snooki.

Well. The mind coped the way the mind coped.

She followed silently, her arms and legs sticking to the fabric of her ratty, white dress a little where they were still bloody from all the bite marks pockmarking her alabaster skin. Every inch of her was covered, except for her face and--ironically enough--her neck.

...Hell looked a lot like downtown Cleveland at night. Made sense. She always hated the Midwest. Brow furrowed, Diana continued down the sidewalk, unconsciously leaving bloody footprints behind her. The longer she walked, the more she wondered when she would see the fires. Whatever else it was, Hell definitely wasn't living up to her expectations. Or down to them?

And where the hell did she think she was going?

Wait...was that a hotel?

The Odeon
[CW: Showtunes]
It didn't take any of her supernatural powers to get Diana on the stage. Just a smile, and a certain need apparent in her lavender eyes, that told the stage manager that music would soothe her soul. She didn't have her own guitar, so she had to borrow one, but that didn't matter so much. Diana could make music out of anything. And the guitar was in good shape, perfectly tuned. When she started to sing, her voice was like a crystal drop, falling into a pond, sending ripples out into eternity:

And for the boy who's given me the sweetest love I've known
I wish for him another love so he won't be alone
But I am bound to walk among the wounded and the slain
And when the storm comes crashing on the plane
I will dance before the lightning, to music sacred and profane...

She'd actually written the song for Artemis and her somewhat tragic love life. But really, all three York sisters were pretty unlucky in love, so it could have been about Arty, Selene, or Diana herself.

Tonight, though, it was more about exercising her metaphorical demons than anything else. She'd been through A Lot. And she was alive. And she was whole. And yes, she was stuck in the God-forsaken Midwest, apparently. The true tragedy being this was the best off she'd been in a long time. She just had to find the music again.
Find a way to be herself again.

And if it wasn't music, it was going to be shameless flirting, but she wasn't sure she was ready for that just yet.

Wildcard
[Come at me, friends. Open to pretty much anything. Will match prose or action. And Diana's info is in her journal, if you want it!]

Kavinsky might have been too bone tired and weary to notice the bloody footprints on the sidewalk outside of the hotel, but he absolutely noticed how bloody--and potentially wounded?--the woman a few yards away was. He wasn't really bothered by blood--once you'd been in or witnessed fights where someone's nose got busted and gushed everywhere, blood stopped being shocking--but he still felt a rising bubble of concern. And maybe a bit of morbid curiosity.

He took a few steps closer, cautious about it, and said, "Hey, are you okay? You look sort of like..." He paused a moment, struggling not to make some sort of joke that she probably definitely wouldn't appreciate. "Like you need a lot of bandages and some rest." But, strangely, despite all of the blood, she didn't seem like she was about to keel over. Thank fuck, honestly; what would he do if that happened?

Diana turned around. Normally, she carried herself with grace, like a dancer spotting her head. But she was so disoriented, she probably looked more like a toddler, barely keeping her balance.

Scratch that 'barely.' She listed to one side for a second, before compensating the other way.

Only then did she actually get a look at the stranger. Sloppy. Artemis would have been furious at her for letting her guard down. But Artemis wasn't here. Anyway, did it matter if you got jumped when you were already dead? Well, she had been waiting for hell to get a little more hellish...

Right! The guy. He seemed...not dead. Cute, in a tattoo-y way. And he was offering concern. Diana forced herself to swallow hard. She was surprised by the effort it took to talk. Except for the fact that she hadn't really been able to say much of anything for months. "I..." Another swallow. "I don't know where I'm going," she admitted. American accent. One that was aggressively West Coast, even if she wasn't playing the role of Valley Girl at the moment.

Oh--he was starting to re-think the assumption that she didn't seem about to keel over. Well, she still didn't look like she was going to drop dead, but he figured she might've lost enough blood to be woozy--which was still concerning. How much blood did someone have to lose before they needed a transfusion? Fuck if he knew.

"Yeah, that's fair." He might have lived in Virginia for the last seven or so years, but he'd never fully lost his Jersey accent, it was just a bit more vague than it'd been before moving to Henrietta. "I followed some chick here a little while ago but I'm still pretty fuzzy on the details of, you know, everything."

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out the best course of action here. "You should probably sit down." He wasn't sure if he should suggest a hospital or not, and if he did, he wouldn't even know where the closest one was. "The hotel's got a bunch of couches and chairs and shit in the lobby." And he didn't give a single fuck if anyone would complain about blood on the furniture. Of course, he was also hoping she could make it that far without disaster.

"You followed a..." So she hadn't imagined it. Diana wasn't sure if that was a relief or not.

Over the past few months, she'd started to have extremely vivid hallucinations. Mostly of Joseph. Not the Joseph she'd known, but Joseph as he might be today. Usually in a brown leather coat and one of those annoying fedoras that only dicks could pull off with a good dose of charm. He spoke to her. Sometimes he even sang at her.

The message was always the same: It was her own damn fault.

Diana didn't know what to make of the mysterious woman she'd followed. Somehow, knowing that it wasn't just in her head was less comforting than she would have thought.

Absently, she nodded. "You've been to the hotel?" she asked. "It's real too?"

"Yup. Her face was- I dunno, like she couldn't decide who she should be or something." He didn't know how to put it into words, exactly. It'd been weird and a touch disconcerting, but he'd never stopped to wonder if that part had been real. He'd just accepted it, funny enough because it'd felt too weird not to be really happening. And, if he'd been dreaming or something, he would have expected Ronan to feature somewhere, all things considered.

Nodding, he glanced in the direction of the hotel before replying. "Yeah, was inside to look around, got a room key but-..." But clearly he hadn't actually gone to the room they'd given him, since he was out here. "Seems pretty nice, but not nice enough to be a mirage, you know?" He figured if any sort of hotel was going to be a collective hallucination or figment of their imaginations, it'd be way swankier. Maybe with a bar right there in the lobby or a crystal chandelier or some shit like that.

"Can't blame you for being weirded out by everything," he added. "This whole thing's been highly weird and fucking suspicious." No one had seemed to want to cause him harm so far, or seem like they wanted to demand a ransom (as if his family cared enough about him to pay), but that didn't do a whole lot to put him at ease.

"Suspicious, yes," she agreed. Diana always preferred to give the benefit of the doubt, but she wasn't sure she could afford to be so optimistic in Hell. "But real is good," she continued.

Yeah, still glass-half-full. Nothing to do about that.

She took two painfully slow steps in the direction of the hotel, before pausing. Artemis would be all over her right, now. Don't stop. Don't hesitate. Don't show any fear or weakness, especially in front of strangers.

But Diana was hesitant. She was afraid. And she was weak. There was no getting around that. Which led her to utter the three words that Artemis would absolutely hate the most. "I need help..."

In a different circumstance, with different people, Kavinsky probably would've been tempted to reply with something sarcastic. Right now, it didn't even cross his mind. He wasn't the only one in a strange new place, new situation, wondering what the fuck was going on--and it seemed like he was having a somewhat easier time so far than some people. He wasn't okay but he could pretend. He was good at that; he had a lot of practice.

"Yeah, of course." He made his way over, closed the distance between them. "You need to lean on me?" He wasn't the least bit daunted by the blood, despite wearing a white tank top. He'd never really given a shit about his belongings, and not just because his family was rich. If blood got on his shirt, he'd get another one.

"And, guess I should ask before it's too late, but- do you need a hospital?" He still had no idea where one would even be, but he figured if it was needed, he could get her into the hotel lobby and ask someone at the front desk to call for an ambulance. It was a small comfort to have that as a plan b.

Her eyes widened in alarm. "No, no hospital," she said, just barely managing to separate the words out, so it didn't sound like 'nonohospital.' She took a deep, shaking breath, before she managed a small smile. "I'll be okay," she said. And physically, it was probably true, assuming she found something to eat.

Psychologically was a whole other story. Diana would have to test her powers of repression at some point later.

Preferably alone, in a nice hotel room. Or at least a not-too-shitty one.

"I just..." She didn't want to lean on him. It was important to avoid letting her blood get into his system in anyway. After a few moments of indecision, she reached for his elbow. If she could just tuck her hand there, maybe she wouldn't fall ass over teakettle. "Thank you," she said, staring at him with a genuine look of sincerity. "I don't even know your name."

"Okay. I'm taking your word on that." That she wouldn't, you know, end up dead very soon and then he'd end up blaming himself for not doing something or not insisting she get medical attention. "I've got enough weighing on my conscience right now." It might have been an attempt to lighten the mood, but it was gentle, too, and definitely not accusatory.

He offered his arm out a bit, so it'd be easier for her to hold on. He didn't blame her for not wanting to lean on him; he was well aware of how vulnerable it could feel to let someone see how not okay you actually were. He was also aware, up close now, of how suspicious the bite marks on her skin looked. Well...he had heard something about vampires at some point or another since he'd shown up in the cave, so maybe his wild theories weren't really that wild.

Oh. He couldn't remember the last time--if ever--someone had thanked him so sincerely, and he had to look away for a moment lest he let on how it made him feel. It was almost uncomfortable, but only because he wasn't used to this sort of gratitude. He wasn't the sort of person people usually thanked. Usually, people graced him with a fuck you tossed his way, or a raised middle finger, or an actual punch. Sometimes, it made him wonder if he was even capable of doing something genuinely good.

Swallowing, he looked at her again, shrugging off the thanks like this was nothing. "It's Kavinsky," he said. "'K' works, too." Anything but his first name, if only because the one nickname he'd accept for it hadn't even crossed his mind yet. "This is- it's the least I could do."

The way he looked away didn't go unnoticed. Diana would have to make a point of figuring out where that sudden shyness came from, at some point. You know, when she wasn't struggling to stay vertical.

There was time.

Probably an eternity, although Diana didn't really have a sense of how much people could or would interact in Hell. Or how big this place was. Surely, it didn't hold all the souls of the damned. Maybe this was just a particular circle?

She tried to remember her Dante, but it was a little too much right now.

Better to focus on the nice boy helping her, for the time being. "Kavinsky," she repeated. "Is that...Russian?" She smiled just barely. "I'm Diana. Diana Abel. A-B-E-L. As in, 'Caine and dot, dot, dot...'"

He couldn't help but look pained for a moment, just a split second, before the expression was gone. This wasn't Ronan hurling Russian at him like an insult, this wasn't someone who looked at him and thought he didn't belong in Henrietta. This wasn't even Henrietta...and maybe that was a good thing.

"Bulgarian, actually. I was born in Jersey but my parents are from Bulgaria, met there, and all that shit before going to the States." He said it casually, easily, like he enjoyed talking about his family in any capacity outside of venting about things. "I do know a little Russian, though." And Ukrainian, and he was more or less fluent in Bulgarian.

"Diana's a pretty name. Fit for a goddess." He smiled, and it both was and wasn't flirting. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, and also because he'd always been interested in various ancient myths, though it wasn't something he usually brought up. "Abel's cool, too. Unique."

Selene had spent some time in Russia. Diana had never made it out there, but she had a rather romantic notion of it. Onion-shaped domes and grand parties. It was possible her whole concept of Russia was stuck in the early 1900s. She found the movie Anastasia entirely too romantic. How was it possible for Dimitri, a cartoon character, to be so hot?

It was unfair, somehow.

But she coughed when he brought up the mythology around her own name. "I'm no goddess," she whispered, looking down to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm no one."

Definitely not at all the Cainite messiah. Not the Abel.

She was just a feather on the wind. Why didn't people understand that?

Diana Abel | Vampire: The Masquerade

Arrival

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The Odeon

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work killed me yesterday. sorry for the slow reply. :)

No worries!

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