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.

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Fire Bad, Doubletree Pretty

In the dimly lit lobby of an unfamiliar hotel, Buffy Summers found herself grappling with a perplexing predicament. A Slayer accustomed to battling the forces of darkness, she now faced the enigma of time and space, thrust into an unforeseen future by the capricious whims of interdimensional portals. Clutching a snack pack of potato chips, she listened intently as one of her fellow Slayers, with painstaking patience, elucidated the concept of 'noshing' and its imperative in sustaining her formidable strength.

With a bemused furrow of her brow, Buffy pondered the surreal circumstances that had led her here. "Apparently, this is the future," she remarked wryly, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Hey, portals are wonky," she added with a shrug, as if that were a satisfactory explanation for her displacement from the familiarity of her own living room to the plush confines of the hotel lobby.

“Didn’t they always give out chocolate chip cookies at these places? I feel cheated,” Buffy grumbled, the corners of her mouth downturned in mild disappointment. Her gaze swept across the opulent surroundings, momentarily distracted from the weight of her responsibilities as the Chosen One. The memory of her encounters with the First, a formidable and elusive adversary, lingered in her mind, a sobering reminder of the relentless struggle against the forces of darkness.

"Do these people know what they’re in for?" Buffy muttered to herself, a flicker of concern betraying her stoic facade. With a resolute tilt of her chin, she steeled herself for the battles that lay ahead, determined to confront whatever malevolent entities dared to threaten the fragile peace of this unfamiliar world.

Your Grave I Do Deeply Dig

"Every." Buffy's fist collided with the newly risen vampire's face, the impact resounding through the night air. "Cemetery." Another blow, this time to the creature's gut, causing it to double over in pain. "Looks the same." With a swift motion, she thrust the stake into the vampire's heart, her resolve unyielding as she dispatched yet another denizen of the night. With a final expletive-laden curse, the once immortal foe crumbled to dust at her feet, a testament to her prowess as the Slayer.

Buffy wrinkled her nose in disgust, a sneeze escaping her as she recoiled from the cloud of vampiric ash. "Dear GOD, did I just get vamp up my nose??" She stuck out her tongue in revulsion, emitting a sound of pure disgust. Shaking her head to rid herself of the lingering sensation, she paused momentarily, her senses attuned to the faint sounds of struggle echoing through the cemetery.

“Hey!” With a swift motion, Buffy tossed one of her stakes to the person being attacked, her eyes ablaze with determination. She lunged forward, seizing the vampire by her hair and wrenching her away from her intended victim. "Nobody is getting killed on my watch," she declared, her voice firm and unwavering as she stood as the stalwart guardian of the night.

Crash Into Me My Party

If The Odeon were a purse, it would be found sold on a table set up on a sidewalk in some big city with an insignia that read “Prado” instead of “Prada.” Oh, yes, it’s a knockoff, but Clevelanders probably have no idea what they’re missing out on. At least, that’s what Buffy assumes.

Right now, she'd rather be twirling on the dance floor with some wholesome Midwestern beau, but her Slayer senses are on high alert. Seated at a table strategically positioned for optimum surveillance of the club, Buffy's either awaiting the arrival of someone who can inject a bit more excitement into her night or bracing herself for the inevitable chaos that always seems to find her.

Maddie hadn't gotten to quite the level of lawless the other Afterlife Society members had gotten to. Being a ghost only for a few weeks meant she behaved almost human where the others did basically anything knowing the mortal world wasn't going to react.

Which was for the best now that the living could see her, or at least some of them. That'll take some getting used to (again). Still, she was already used to taking however much food she wanted knowing she'd never take the last of anything. (Ghosts truly got to have their cake and eat it too.) So she had way more snacks than any one person could get away with.

Overhearing that last question Maddie paused, there was a level of certainty that said this woman did have an idea of what we were in for. Which got Maddie's attention, "You could share with the class. Since you seem to know."

Buffy's gaze drifted wearily to Maddie, her exhaustion palpable. She hadn't even vanquished the First Evil back in Sunnydale, and now fate was hurling her into yet another town's battle.

"The First Evil... it's a relentless adversary," Buffy began, her voice heavy with the weight of countless battles. "It preys on your vulnerabilities, morphing into the faces of those you've lost. It could even mimic me, if it so desired. And its minions... they're not your run-of-the-mill bloodsuckers. They're cunning, relentless. We're going to need all the training we can get."

She averted her gaze, reluctant to take on the mantle of leadership once more. "I'm Buffy. Kind of like the girls who usually run this show—vampire slayer extraordinaire. What about you?" The young woman before her seemed scarcely older than Dawn, sparking an instinctive urge to shield her from the horrors that awaited.

Oh, well, spelled out like that Maddie's still wondering why she's here. Maybe she can scout areas that are too dangerous for the living? It's the best idea she's got. Her confusion mixed with a general level of horror at all of that said.

Oh, also, super weird, tiny 20-something acting like she's some sort of cop three days from retirement. Not that- Maddie would dare say that. She could, she could dare, what's the worst that could happen. "Sucks there's not much I can do."

"Maddie, ordinary high schooler." She's not really one for fights over the fate of the world. Although her explanation of herself was lacking, and not really accurate. Ordinary was true for her before she became a ghost, but she's more than aware she's not a regular ghost, by any means. "I mean, not that normal. I'm a ghost."

Swallowing her surprise, Buffy offered a hesitant nod. "Oh," she managed to squeak out, feeling a rush of awkwardness wash over her. Talking to a ghost? Well, given her own resurrection experiences, perhaps she shouldn't be too shocked. "You know, I've died before, so... Otherworldly pride. Go us." She forced a tight smile, hoping to alleviate the tension that hung in the air, but the silence that followed only amplified her discomfort.

Clearing her throat, Buffy tried to regain her composure. "For the record, I'm sorry," she blurted out, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily between them. "Can everyone see you? Is that an incredibly intrusive question to ask?" Her expression twisted with self-reproach, and she silently mouthed the word 'sorry' once more.

You would think that after everything she'd faced on the Sunnydale Hellmouth, meeting a ghost would be just another day in the life of the Slayer. But somehow, it still managed to catch her off guard.

There's definitely a reaction to 'died before' but it isn't surprise, it's a more general ill ease at the topic. Something Maddie should say, but isn't going to.

So she'll just run with the change in topic, "People in the hotel can me. Well, anyone some way touched by the whole good evil fight. I needed help checking in and sometimes I need someone to get me back into my room when my key vanishes on me. The local- witches?" Said like she's sure that's not the PC term but she doesn't had better, "are looking into some way to hex it so my ghostly being treats it as always mine."

"Yes, I can get locked out of my room and yes I do feel cheated on my ghost powers."

Buffy's smile unfurled like a beacon of understanding and empathy, a testament to the myriad trials she had weathered throughout her years as the Slayer. It was a smile that spoke volumes, conveying a silent reassurance that echoed her unwavering resolve in the face of the supernatural. As she extended her hand towards Maddie's shoulder, a fleeting uncertainty flickered in her eyes, a reflexive acknowledgment of the ethereal nature of their encounter. Would her touch find purchase on the spectral form of the high school ghost, or would it pass through her incorporeal presence like smoke through a sieve? With a hesitant pause, Buffy withdrew her hand, opting for caution over presumption.

"Witches, huh?" Buffy's voice, laced with warmth and camaraderie, carried an air of casual familiarity born of countless encounters with the occult. "They're usually pretty chill about being called witches. Some even embrace it, practicing Wicca and all that jazz. It's all about who you're talking to, but don't sweat it. Asking never hurt anybody." Her grin widened, imbued with a sense of joviality that bordered on irreverence. Look at her, doling out advice on making friends with witches like she was giving a tutorial on Sesame Street. Next lesson: how to navigate the complexities of befriending werewolves!

With a playful glint in her eye, Buffy leaned in conspiratorially, her mind already concocting plans to alleviate Maddie's dilemma. "And hey, if the door's giving you grief, why not spice things up a bit? A groovy beaded curtain could totally give your haunt some flair. Throw in a few strategically placed partitions for privacy, and voilà! No more prying eyes, just a stylish makeover for your spectral abode." Her suggestion brimmed with enthusiasm, a testament to her knack for turning mundane problems into exhilarating projects. After all, in a town where the supernatural lurked around every corner, what better way to pass the time than with a little DIY ghost renovation?

Maddie, to make her opinion on personal space and how weird it is when people pass through her, takes a step back at the outstretched hand. Causing her to bump into the table behind her. Which simultaneously sounds like it shook but also doesn't shake at all. A mish-mash of the ghostly Maddie's interaction and the physical world she can't touch. Maddie let out a small breath and looked a bit sheepish at her reaction, but smiles enough that it's clear she appreciates the idea of the gesture.

"Good to know. All I know about this stuff is what I've seen in movies. And a lot of that is wrong." Some part of her does like the idea of hot pottery wheel action, but no. Not how ghosts work. Not pissing off the people that might let her actually keep new things is a useful bit of knowledge. Asking politely and not pissing them off is a good skill to have.

The tiniest of smiles crosses her face at the idea of a 'groovy beaded curtain' just because it made her think of Dawn. Maybe that was how Dawn decorated, maybe it was a grossly oversold gimmick. Not that she could ask anymore.

It might not be a bad idea if this wasn't a hotel. Maybe it was doable, if the hotel was mostly forces of Good™ and all, "I don't need a ton of privacy, only have the one outfit. But I'd like a space where I can be alone, you know? Sharing a high school with two dozen or so other ghosts."

Buffy wasn't the only one who would rather have been dancing. The fact was, Diana absolutely loved dancing. It just wasn't feasible right now, seeing as every single part of her body below the collarbone was a constellation map of bitemarks. She'd taken a lot of pains (kinda literally) to cover them with long sleeves, a broomstick skirt, and various scarves. Tragically, she was beginning to think it hadn't really been worth the effort. For one thing, moving too much still hurt. For another, there was nothing she could do about the bites on the backs of her hands.

A part of her regretted coming to the club. Another part of her--the more Diana-esque part, her sisters would probably say--had realized that the last thing she ought to be doing right now was sitting along, sulking, feeling sorry for herself and what had happened to her. She was alive. Somehow. Miraculously. She needed to act like it.

Nothing made her feel more alive than music.

So, yes. Coming here had been the right move. Nevertheless, it was probably time to go.

Diana was making her way to the door (past the adorable blond girl) when she nearly tripped on one of the laces of her boot. With a sigh, she leaned over to start retying it, lifting the edge of her skirt up just enough to show some scandalous calf. A calf that looked like it had been turned into a dog's chewtoy.

Buffy's eyes bulged like saucers as she leaped from her seat, propelled by urgency to check on the injured girl. "Holy cow, are you okay?!" With cautious hands, she lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing the mangled flesh of the girl's calf. Whatever lurked beyond The Odeon's doors, or worse, within them, had savaged the poor girl's leg.

Springing to her feet, Buffy looped the fallen girl's arm around her shoulder, hoisting her up as she rose. She met the girl's gaze, her expression etched with concern and empathy. "Can you lean against this wall while I take care of that shoelace? I know a spot nearby where we can patch you up."

A gentle smile graced her lips, an attempt to offer solace amidst chaos. "Oh, and I'm Buffy, by the way. Just in case 'Mysterious Lady Offering First Aid' is a bit of a mouthful."

Okay. Cute blond girl was quick. Diana was barely able to register what was happening, before she was being fussed over like a little girl. She didn't mind exactly (even if she usually waited for at least the second date before letting someone rustle her skirts), but she had to suppress an exhausted sigh as she realized she needed a cover story. Fast.

Diana Abel had many, many talents. Lying? Not so much. In fact, she was somewhat infamous as the worst liar in the whole Order. Some the others joked that it kept her 'pure' or whatever. Made her work a lot harder, though.

"Um, I'm okay," she said. She had an aggressively American accent, bordering on West Coast Valley Girl. Absently, she groped for the wall, since her shoelace was a problem, either way. "Just kinda lost a fight with a really angry...cat."

Buffy, with a skeptical quirk of her eyebrow and a gesture mimicking fangs with her fingers, directed her gaze towards Diana. "A really... 'angry cat'?" Her tone was laced with a mixture of concern and amusement, though her Slayer senses were tingling like a thousand alarm bells in a cacophony of danger. Diana was a vampire — a certainty as solid as the stake in her back pocket. And she was fairly confident that encounters with vampires typically ended with either a frantic sprint or a bloody brawl. This girl, however, seemed more like an ally than a foe.

"It's okay," Buffy said, her voice a soft murmur as she leaned in closer, her eyes betraying nothing but kindness. "I just want to get you somewhere comfortable and semi-private where you can sit and heal." Her smile was warm, genuine, reaching all the way to her eyes, the color of a tranquil sea on a calm day. Scanning the club for a suitable spot, she spotted the introvert's haven — the couch tucked away from prying eyes.

"Come on," Buffy encouraged, looping an arm around Diana's waist for support as she guided her towards the plush sofa. It looked like the kind of furniture that could cradle a person in its embrace, offering solace in its softness. Partially concealed by a winding staircase, it provided just enough seclusion for a speedy recovery. "What do you think? Two thumbs up?" she asked, a playful glint dancing in her eyes, her lips curling into a reassuring grin.

There was...a lot to unpack in everything Buffy said and did within approximately thirty seconds of meeting Diana. Never exactly known for being much of a strategist--in fact, everyone told Diana that she was stupid and she generally believed them--her mind whirled with possibilities.

The mimicry of fangs was pretty unmistakable. This was a girl who was in the know. Possibly? Alive, judging from the pulse that Diana could feel in her skin. But familiar with the world of vampires and other supernatural weirdos. A ghoul, maybe? Diana took a quick peak at the girl's aura, as she allowed Buffy to lead her over to the sofa.

Nope. Definitely not a ghoul. Seemed pretty damn human, with only the slightest hint of a sparkle in the colors that swirled around her.

Okay, things were getting weird. Groovy. Time to..improvise?

Diana sat down carefully, not leaning against the back of the sofa, because her own back was also a patchwork of bitemarks. Still, it was good to be off of her feet, and she breathed a small, relieved sigh. "There were...a lot of angry cats," she said. Because she sure as hell wasn't going to be the first to use the v-word. Just in case she was totally wrong.

Wouldn't exactly be the first time.

(Un)luckily enough for Buffy, inevitable chaos doesn't take long at all to find her tonight. Normally, a club like this would be the perfect spot to cut loose and unwind; she's gotten down in seedier and crappier dives than this, after all. But the vibe in this place is rubbing her the wrong way, and somehow the rhythm of the night is lost on her.

"Hey, B."

That's all the greeting she gives before she sidles halfway into a seat at Buffy's table, hitting her with an amused smirk that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Feels like you're kinda missin' the point of the whole 'club' thing."

It sounds like teasing, but there's definitely an unspoken question there. Part of her hopes Buffy's just playing the straight-laced responsible chick again. Another part knows better. If Faith's on edge, that's just old-fashioned paranoia, but if Buffy feels it too...

Buffy fought back the urge to envelop the familiar figure before her in a tight hug, the form of Faith standing before her triggering a mix of relief and wariness. Still, a genuine smile graced her lips. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think I'd have to tackle this apocalypse solo."

She couldn't help but admire the camaraderie among the collective of Slayers who had banded together, identifying portals and securing an entire hotel for those who stumbled through. Yet, despite her appreciation, Buffy couldn't shake the gnawing doubt that crept in. She hadn't witnessed any of them in combat yet, and her expectations hovered somewhere between low and middling, overshadowed by a creeping cynicism.

"Can you feel it too?" Buffy's gaze swept across the dance floor, her senses on high alert for any signs of hidden danger. "Like the band isn't going to be the main attraction tonight?" She glanced back at Faith, a flicker of concern evident in her eyes.

Shit. Yeah. Yeah, that tracks.

"Gonna be real with you, I was sort of hopin' it was just me."

She starts quietly scanning the crowd around them, trying to pick faces and features, looking for anything suspicious.

"What are you thinking? Vampires?"

She doesn't think it's gonna be just vampires, but hey, a girl can dream.

Buffy's expression darkened as she gave a slow, ominous shake of her head. It wasn't just a flutter of nerves dancing in the pit of her stomach; it was a familiar dread, a chilling sensation reminiscent of the darkest days back home when the malevolent force of The First had waged its psychological warfare upon them. The question lingered like a shadow in her mind: how far was this new threat willing to go? Would it content itself with mere mischief, or did it hunger for something far more sinister? Though she would never openly admit it, a tremor of apprehension coursed through her veins.

"The First," Buffy murmured, her voice tinged with resignation as she delivered the grim diagnosis. "It's responsible for these wiggins, sorry to say, and who knows what else it's got up its sleeve." Her words hung heavy in the air, a somber acknowledgment of the insidious power wielded by their unseen adversary. "That means we're dealing with more than just your run-of-the-mill bloodsuckers. Anything could come slithering through that pretty blue portal."

Her gaze flickered towards the alleyway entrance, where a motley crew of figures clad in antiquated attire slinked into view like predators stalking their prey. Buffy's jaw tensed as she sized them up, a flicker of recognition igniting within her. Without a word, she met Faith's gaze and offered a subtle nod, a silent agreement to pursue the looming threat before it could escalate into a full-blown catastrophe. It felt like a risky gambit, a potential diversion orchestrated by unseen hands, but in the dimly lit confines of the club, they were the only vampires in sight.

With a sense of grim determination, Buffy led the way, her senses attuned to the faintest whisper of danger lurking in the shadows. Whatever lay ahead, she was ready to face it head-on, armed with nothing but her wits and the unwavering resolve of a Slayer on the hunt.

"Damn. I thought we just eighty-sixed it."

She'd expected more than vampires, but... the First. She'd known the First wasn't gone, but it should have at least been done, at least for a while. A decade, a century, something. She feels like they've barely had time to rest.

Still. Not much good bitching about it is gonna do. So she shuts up and she follows Buffy through the club, body already tensed and blood already pumping. She's been keyed up for a scrap since she walked through the doors, so it doesn't take much to set it off.

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Test Drive Meme #1

Buffy Summers | Buffyverse

Fire Bad, Doubletree Pretty

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Crash!

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Crashing time

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