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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.
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Watching that smile fade from Kavinsky's face has him debating if he should reach out and squeeze his hand. Offer some kind of reassuring words or touch. He can't quite place what he sees in the other man's eyes. Under the table Ash bumps his bare foot against K's shoe. A hand reaches across the table as if going for another bite of the appetizer, instead his fingers lightly brush against his hand. "Good thing you have time to find out what that feels like."
His eyes widen with surprise but not shock. Not fear. Ashley has zero concerns about taking clothes off. He likes to be comfortable, clothes aren't often comfortable. And when you are a shapeshifter you get really comfortable with your body. He can't count how many times he ended up naked in front of strangers, friends or family due to bad timing on transitioning forms.
He peels his teeshirt off quickly, wads it up and lightly tosses it at Kavinsky. His arms and neck are covered in tattoos. There are a few small tattoos on his chest and torso but there is still more skin then ink. His lightly tanned skinned is also mottled in numerous scars. Some are obviously gunshot wounds and stab wounds, others are not so obvious. Maybe animal bites or claws. Maybe, just maybe, he was stabbed with a handful of silver forks one time.
Ash flexes one of his pec muscles and winks at Kavinsky. He didn't even pause to think about if this would get him kicked out or not. "That was easy."
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They were simple gestures, a foot bump, a brush of fingers, and yet- Kavinsky felt his throat tighten. He'd tell anyone, absolutely anyone, that he never cried, ever. Proko would know better, but Proko also knew when to keep his mouth shut; he wouldn't rat K out. Besides, he wasn't even there. There was absolutely no one could call K on how emotional he could really get. "Uh-huh. Plenty of time, I'm sure." He wasn't sure at all, but he was good at compartmentalizing, pushing down emotions and locking them away until some undefined point of time in the future where he'd actually work through those feelings. So, never.
Luckily, there were more distractions. For a split second, he figured he had asked for too much, but then the next moment he was laughing as he snagged Ash's shirt, catching it mid-toss. "Good luck getting this back, man." He grinned. He didn't stare, exactly, but he absolutely admired. He had a few questions that came to mind, but he probably wouldn't ask them--at least, not about the scars. For a while now, months, maybe longer, he'd been thinking about getting tattoos. The only reason he hadn't yet was because he wanted to make sure he settled on designs he really wanted.
"Well, didn't wanna betray your trust," he said, finally managing to look Ash in the face again. "Nice tattoos," he added, "Been thinking about getting some, myself."
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Ash laughs, low and deep and shakes his head. "It's all yours. Maybe I should have written my number on it so you could find me later." He looks exactly as comfortable and at ease as he had before removing his shirt. If people looked he didn't really notice.
"Even if you did? I'm a pretty forgiving kinda guy." Some would say too forgiving. Ash often overlooked serious issues and forgave grievous offenses simply because he doesn't like losing people. He chuckles under his breath and looks down at himself. "What's stopping you?" Ash asks as he brings his bright blue eyes back to look at K.
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He'd been joking about keeping Ash's shirt, of course, but he couldn't help but laugh. "It's not too late, you know," he said, giving the shirt a wiggle.
"I think one person ever has said they trusted me or were even thinking about it, so..." So it sort of felt like a special occasion when someone actually told him that kind of thing. Kavinsky wasn't sure if he was forgiving, himself. He didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive his family, and yet... he thought he could easily forgive Ronan if the other boy apologized to him, made some sort of effort, whether it was just to be friends or something more. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it.
"I dunno, actually," he admitted. He was old enough to get tattoos on his own, notable because he absolutely refused to spend more time around his mother than was absolutely, strictly necessary. Besides, he didn't know if she would've refused just to spite him or something. "Just been trying to pin down designs, I guess. Really considering a dragon down my arm, though, and a couple of smaller things."
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He holds out a hand and wiggles his fingers. "Gimmie your phone."
Ash doesn't pity Kavinsky but he for sure feels a wave of sadness. People deserve trust. They deserve kindness. Human connection. "Shit. Well, I think people have to prove why I shouldn't trust them before I take that away. Even then, shouldn't you get a chance to fix it? As a person who frequently fucks up I'm a really big fan of second chances."
Ash smirks. "A dragon, huh? Tell me what that would mean to you."
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Quirking an eyebrow, he grinned before shifting enough to get his phone out of his pocket to hand it over.
"I think all I ever do is fuck up," he admitted. It was a part of why he didn't usually judge people on the sort of things that a lot of others did. "I don't mind if people are cautious, but more often than not it's active distrust, like everyone thinks I'm going to steal their dog or mug their grandma." As if he'd ever steal an animal that had a happy, healthy home.
"Dragons are-... When I was a kid, I read a lot of folklore shit, you know- baba yaga, dhampires, zmeys. Zmeys are dragons, and they're not like- they don't hoard gold and raze villages and shit. They can be heroes." He paused for a moment, decided not to mention the part where they could also appear as hot guys, and continued, "Or rebels. I guess they're whatever they want, and that's...sort of like me. No one tells a dragon who it should be. Also, they're visually super fucking cool."
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With Kavinsky's phone in his hand Ash adds his number then gives the phone back. "I don't have a dog or a grandma, sweetheart. So we'll get along just fine."
K has all of his attention as he tells him about dragons. Ash nods his head and grins. "Fuck, I love that. No one tells a dragon who it should be. Be a dragon, K. You have that vibe."
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Taking his phone back, he set it face down on the table in front of him, so he wouldn't have to try shoving it into his pocket right now. "Shame though; dogs are pretty cool." Grandmas were supposedly cool too, sometimes, but he wouldn't know.
He felt warm in a way he didn't usually experience at being told to be a dragon. It was, somehow, one of the most positive things anyone had ever said to him. "I'm working on it. Maybe this city'll be good for me. For a while." Either for being able to be himself or sorting out his thoughts or even just for tattoos--though he technically didn't need other people for the last one.
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Ashley grins as he runs his fingers through his flop of hair. "I'm definitely a dog person. Go as far as to say they are my spirit animal."
Can't just come right out and tell someone hey, I'm a werewolf without possibly ruining the conversation. Or being looked at like he's crazy. He'll tease about it in his own way. Maybe drop hints. Ash hates that he has to keep it secret. The most important part of who he is and he's not suppose to share it.
"You want to get out of here? Go wander and check this place out?"
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"I dunno if lakes are really the same, but-" but he was pretty sure Lake fucking Erie or something should have been close to Cleveland. In the next breath, he laughed. "Not really. Got a friend who'll talk for hours about skateboarding if you give him the chance, though. He's pretty good. When he's not trying to show off." By which he meant, when Skov wasn't being a dumbass. But he meant it affectionately, at any rate.
He made a thoughtful noise. "So, like me and dragons." He grinned, though it faded after a moment. "I've always wanted a dog. A rottweiler, maybe, or like, a goofy golden retriever that's full of so much love it's got no room for anything else." He wasn't especially picky though, really; he'd take any dog if there was an opportunity for it.
"Abso-fucking-lutely." He didn't even need to think about his answer. The Odeon was fine and all, but sometimes sitting still made him feel like he was about to combust, and now was one of those times.
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Ash chuckles and shakes his head. "Not the same but we can make a lake work. Nothing like a bonfire on a beach, even if that beach is at a lake." He smirks at the description of K's friend. "I won't talk your ear off about it, I swear. Easy way to commute around a crowded, busy city. And I like to ride anything I can make go fast or is dangerous."
Not that he has a death wish or anything. Ashley is an advocate for living life. Enjoying it. If he was born to die fighting a war between good and evil he will enjoy every minute between the battles. He loves to travel and is a thrill seeker. Loves to revel in the aspects of humanity that are worth fighting for.
As he stands up he stretches out, still completely unbothered by not having his shirt on. "I've been told I'm a golden retriever." Which he very aggressively denied. Even if it is mostly true. Sure, he could rip a vampire apart in a matter of seconds. He is also annoyingly affectionate, often forgets about personal space, and loves until he has nothing left to give. "Or a cinnamon roll. Whatever that means."
He knows exactly what it means. Ash gives K's shoulder a light bump before heading toward the doors. "Think we should avoid the cemetery."
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"Love bonfires, though somehow I've never had one on a beach." Probably because he'd been too young when he'd still lived in Jersey, and Henrietta wasn't known for its beaches. "Don't think I'd mind even if you did talk my ear off. It's nice when someone's passionate about something." And who was he to dampen a friend's enthusiasm? "I prefer cars, myself."
He swiped his phone off the table as he got up, pocketing it and then Ash's shirt, which he was still completely willing to give back, at any point. He couldn't help also being curious about how long he'd be allowed to hold onto it, though he didn't have any intentions of keeping it.
Kavinsky didn't get what being a cinnamon roll meant, since it was unfortunately after his time, but he grinned all the same. "Maybe 'cause you look good enough to eat? I could see the golden retriever bit, too."
Following along, he was a split-second away from saying how cemeteries were actually sort of peaceful, before he remembered a few scraps of information he'd learned since ending up in Ohio. "The one here, yeah. Probably. Better not to push our luck."
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He can't help but to grin at that. Cars. Yeah, he's a car guy. His grandfather invented the steam engine and coined the term horsepower. Not that he could say that just yet without revealing everything about himself. "Talk to me about cars. Talk my ear off."
Ash looks down at himself then back at Kavinsky. He's smirking and licks his lips. "Going to take a bite out of me, sweetheart?"
Outside he heads in the direction of a park he saw. Not the cemetery. He would agree that they are usually peaceful places. Calm. This one felt like something else. "Just walking past it felt...wrong. Like something was waiting."
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Laughing, he considered that for a moment. "Are you sure about that? I might not shut up; I love cars." He might not have had a lot of mechanical knowledge, but that didn't stop him from being enthusiastic.
"I might," he added with a grin. "I have been known to bite." Just as much as he liked being bitten.
He made a noise that was somewhere between thoughtful and noncommittal. So many things since his arrival were blurring together already. He knew he'd passed by the cemetery himself, earlier, but he only had vague memories of the way it'd made him feel. "I guess so, yeah. I wasn't really paying attention before."
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Ash love vehicles. Any type really. Well, not boats and big ships. He loves to surf, loves the water but he's a land animal. Too much time on the water and he starts to feel off, disconnected. But cars? Nothing like a roadtrip in the middle of the night. Music loud, windows down, someone's legs draped over his lap, engine purring as you tear down a desolate two lane highway with nothing to look at but the stars.
Tilting his head toward Kavinsky he gave a playful snap of his teeth. "Good."
Up ahead he could see the park. There were swings. He may be an adult in the sense that he is of a certain age, an entrepreneur, and pays his bills but when it comes to most everything else? Big kid at heart. With a grin he ran ahead.
When he reaches the swings he lands on his belly across the thick, black plastic seat shooting himself into the air as he rides it like he's Superman.
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"And the speed, the adrenaline," he continued, corralling his thoughts. "Racing's about the only fun thing to do besides partying, back home." But racing, or even just driving, settled his mood in a wildly different way than partying. They both made him feel alive, but parties and everything they involved were more of a distraction. Racing was...peace, in a way.
Laughing, he made no attempt no keep pace--he could probably be paid to run, but nothing short of some sort of reward (or emergency) would motivate him otherwise--but he did lower himself into a swing seat next to Ash. "The best part of any park, right?" He hadn't really had a whole lot of opportunities to appreciate swing sets while growing up, but he was a firm believer that you were never too old for something like this.
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He couldn't agree more with what K had said. Ash loved a car that sounded like it was dangerous. That let you know there was a monster under the hood. He also loves deceptive cars. Pull up next to a 1990's era Honda with a spoiler and tinted windows late at night in the middle of summer and prepare to get your ass handed to you. Even in an exotic import like he favors driving.
"I love a good road trip." He says as he flips over and rights himself on the swing. Using his legs he pushes off the ground to keep himself swaying at a steady pace. "Driving for hours through the middle of no where with no one around. Let the engine open up and take off."
Reaching out he held on to the chain of K's swing to keep them swinging together. "I like a good slide too. Can't be a grown up all the time."
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"I wanna road trip sometime, this summer or after graduation. Bring my boys with me." He wasn't a big fan of 'the middle of nowhere' honestly, but he thought it would be more bearable if it wasn't Henrietta. Some place with a stretch of highway where they could race, just for fun, because they could. "Wouldn't even mind dealing with some shitty cheap motel."
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a slide, and while he wasn't particularly interested, he couldn't deny that swings were still pretty great. "I feel like people put too much pressure on being a 'grown up' anyway, like- the fuck does it even mean? Put on a suit and tie and fucking forget everything you used to love?" But at the same time, he didn't really remember what being a kid was like, or if he'd ever really been a kid.
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"What does a dream road trip with the boys look like? Where would you go?" For as much as he travels he still has a huge bucket list of places to go. Including several road trips. A lot of his travel is work related and the time consumed with meetings. He needs to get back to traveling more for fun.
"Who the fuck knows what that means." He shakes his head. "Being grown up should be about finally getting to do the things you really love. Buy the shit you want. Wear what you want to wear. Finally figure out who the fuck you are." Hell, he was still working on that. From the time he first shifted at eleven his life was shaped by what everyone else told him he needed to be. Once he found a pack and moved to New York he finally started to feel like he could figure out who the hell he is.
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Mmm, that was a good question. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just...going anywhere, through the countryside or whatever. Doesn't have to be somewhere special. Maybe some scenic routes in the mountains. Anywhere that's not where we started from would be good." And he imagined his boys felt the same way. He couldn't picture any of them wanting to hang around Henrietta after graduation, not unless something damn good happened.
"Exactly. Like, no one can tell you that you can't buy something or wear something when you're an adult." Barring certain circumstances, of course, which he was well aware of. But aside from that- "Man, I've been trying to figure out who I am for most of my life, and I still don't fuckin' know." He'd been struggling with it since the first time he'd ever pulled something from his dreams, when his father had entirely lost his shit over it. When Kavinsky had began to realize the world wasn't kind and his family was no exception.