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

[ooc: I'll match format- prose, brackets, whichever! <3]

i. A Choice to Make - Good - cw: vague mention of drugs

Kavinsky was angry. It snarled up inside of him, hot and choking--but he was hurting, too. The feelings went hand-in-hand, had been a near constant in his life for hours, days, weeks. With great reluctance, he pulled his white-framed sunglasses off, folding them and hooking them on the front of his shirt. He should have been dead, he knew that, and yet he didn't feel dead. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't still dreaming either, though. Compared to everything else he'd dreamt over the span of his life, this wasn't even remotely close to the weirdest thing. Even the voices weren't too far-fetched, no matter how irritating and alluring he found them, in equal turns.

He didn't need power--he already had that--but he didn't feel particularly inclined to pursue justice, either. But between the two, he thought it was easy enough to figure out which one was the lesser of the two evils, as it were. So, he squinted against the ethereal glow and walked towards it.

He was a split second away from asking aloud if the whispers ever planned on shutting the fuck up when he emerged from the tunnel into whatever was on the other side, and saw the girl. He stared at her for a long moment, studying the way her face kept changing. It was too much like the kind of shit he'd dream while fucked up that he couldn't flinch from it, no matter how disconcerting it was. Instead, he followed her. Maybe he was dead after all, and this was some sort of afterlife. Maybe she was an angel or something.

Craning his neck a bit when they passed The Odeon, Kavinsky considered the exterior of the building and the noise from within--and made a mental note to check it out later, when he didn't feel like he was on a tour. It seemed like it might be his kind of place.

When the girl pointed to the gym, he arched an eyebrow, looking at it and then her before barking a laugh. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen," he said.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed through the rest of his current adventure, stopping in front of the hotel. He'd seen worse places, that was for sure--this would be good enough, he guessed, assuming he was supposed to stay here. He couldn't be homesick if he'd never had somewhere that felt like home, after all. The only problem was-

"I absolutely do not want to fucking be alone with myself." It was more of a mutter, directed at himself, but he also didn't care--or even know--if there was anyone else close enough to hear. He didn't want to lock himself in a hotel room right now, or lie down to sleep when he hardly knew what sort of nightmares he might wake with.

ii. Drinking Away Our Sorrows - cw: underage drinking

The Odeon wasn't quite what Kavinsky had hoped it would be, not as wild, but it was also better than any of the dumps that were in Henrietta, so it was still a plus. Besides, it'd been easy to dream a fake ID--IDs weren't a challenge; he'd forged them a hundred times--and he was well on his way to getting drunk. It probably wasn't too much better of a choice compared to being alone with his dreams, in his head, but he could at least delay the inevitable. Maybe if he delayed sleep long enough, got far enough out of his head, he'd be able to keep the nightmares at bay.

Knocking back another shot, he eyed the basket of fries next to him, where he sat at the bar, and considered them. He wasn't exactly hungry, and he knew that without eating anything, he was playing a dangerous game when it came to drinking, but it didn't deter him. After he'd gotten the bartender's attention for another drink, he picked up a single fry and took a bite. Despite the fact it was lukewarm, it was better than he'd expected--or maybe he was actually hungrier than he'd realized--and he finished it in another bite.

He shifted slightly when someone approached, either to sit nearby or just order a drink, watching them out of the corner of his eye before turning to look at them properly. "Hey, completely random question, for curiosity's sake, but--do you think there's a street racing scene in this city? Bonus points if you actually know, and even more points if that answer's yes," he said.

He figured, if he was going to be here for however long, he might as well start scoping shit out, see if there was anything to look forward to or if he was going to have to scrape together a race scene all on his own.

iii. A Little Game - The Odeon - cw: underage drunkenness

While not as spectacularly drunk as he had been at various times in the past, Kavinsky was probably definitely drunk enough that he should've climbed into an Uber or something and gone back to the hotel--but he felt more relaxed right now than he had all day. Physically, relaxed, at least, though his thoughts were still scattered, obsessing over things that had happened hours or days earlier in the back of his mind. He was doing his best to ignore those thoughts, to distract himself- which was why he invited himself to sit at a stranger's table, no matter who they were.

"Hey," he said amiably, dark eyes bright, even with the dark circles under them, standing out against his pale skin. "So, considering that this place is fucking boring compared to the parties I throw back home, what do you say we spice shit up with a little truth or dare?"

Ashley had made himself quite comfortable. Shoes kicked off he lounged with his feet on the laminate tabletop. Several empty drink glasses circled a half eaten onion blossom. He plucked another petal and popped it in his mouth as Kavinsky took a seat.

"Truth or dare, huh?"

The other option was going back to the hotel. To a dark, empty room alone. He is a little tipsy, starting to lean toward drunk, but not enough that the heavy sense of loss pressing on his chest is gone. Being alone with that feeling, with everything going on in his head, was a bad idea. At the hotel he had gotten as far as staring at the door to his room. Instead of turning the handle he turned around and found his way to The Odeon. Crowds. Noise. Drinking. A place he could try to get out of his head. Or at least not face what he was feeling.

He chased the taste of deep fried onion with a gulp of something amber swirling in his glass.

"I'm game."

He did look comfortable. Kavinsky was a little envious. Not because he would feel self-conscious about doing the same himself, but because he didn't know this place, and if something happened where he needed to run--or maybe kick someone--in a hurry, he wanted to have his shoes on already to do so. Though...he supposed they could also double as a weapon if he needed to chuck them at someone.

Either way, he eyed the onion blossom, weighing his chances, and then leaned over, reaching towards it. He didn't quite ask, but he did pause a moment, raising an eyebrow in question, to judge Ashley's reaction before actually snagging any of the food.

"Cool." Unlike a lot of other things currently going on. Maybe he should have been grateful for- something, but he didn't feel very grateful about anything right now. "Any qualms, questions, concerns before we get started?"

Something occurred to him after a moment, and that was, considering they were about to potentially spill personal information or get into hi-jinks (read as: get into trouble), he should probably introduce himself. "I'm Kavinsky, by the way."

He gave the plate a nudge, moving it closer to Kavinsky. An invitation to eat. "Nah, man. Nothing is off limits."

There were very few places or people that ever made him feel uneasy. When you can transform into a monster it's easy to make yourself at home no matter where you are. Ash carries himself with the confidence that comes from knowing he can literally tear someone to pieces but not having to prove that to anyone. There is a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Kavinsky.

"Kavinsky." Ash tosses back the rest of his drink. "I'm Ash. Need a drink?"

Excellent. Kavinsky plucked a piece of onion blossom, leaning back in his chair before popping it in his mouth. "Cool." Except this time, his grin said he might make Ash regret that. Though, he was well aware that if he pushed buttons and came up with wild questions or dares, he'd be encouraging the same behavior from the other man, so...he might behave himself. Maybe. Depended on how dangerous the atmosphere felt as things went along.

"Absolutely. If I ever turn down alcohol, assume I've been body snatched." Or would it have been easier just to say 'replaced by a pod person'? He figured either way got the point across, not that he remembered much about that particular old movie, but- close enough. "Besides, I don't think there's such a thing as 'too much' to drink right now, considering all the bullshit."

That grin promised some kind of trouble. Ash wasn't sure what kind of trouble just yet and that left him feeling a spark of excitement. Kavinsky looks young though, maybe too young, but he's not the one serving the drinks or checking IDs.

"Noted." He says with an easy laugh as he waves for a server. When he catches their attention he points to his glass and holds up fingers to indicate he needs two. A wink and a smile is his response when the server gives a nod. "Haven't been here long myself. Just arrived. Still trying to sort out all the bullshit."

Good verses evil. Whatever that ghostly girl was that had been his guide. A slayer? Vampire hunting he can get behind, that's basically what he was born to do. He's still worried if the hunters here find out what he is that maybe he'll end up on the list of things to kill. Ash couldn't remember everything about where he had been before arriving here but he doesn't feel the same, his power isn't crippled. He feels like himself again. Hopefully he can be useful here.

"Alright, K, truth or dare. I'm trying to figure out just how much trouble I've gotten myself into so...I'm going first and I pick truth."

At the very least, Kavinsky wasn't looking to get anyone, himself included, in any sort of legal trouble related to drinking. The fake ID he'd dreamt up was, for all intents and purposes, entirely valid. Which was a good thing, because even going to sleep for a few minutes, in and out like a thief, he'd been able to feel stress and anger and misery pushing at the edges of the dream, threatening to twist it into a nightmare. He wouldn't want to have had to make a second attempt.

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Still trying to wrap my head around this shit." He wasn't sure, entirely, what was expected of him. He wasn't someone people turned to when they needed a hero, he wasn't particularly strong, just average, and- he didn't know. He'd had enough on his plate before, teetering on the brink of destruction, watching all of his hopes crumble around him. He wanted to sleep but not to dream, wanted to get so shitfaced he couldn't remember how deeply rejection had cut him. He wanted to not think for a while.

Instead, he couldn't stop. Instead, he said, "Well, that works out, cause I was gonna ask if you wanted to go first. Let's start it simple; assuming I wasn't the only one who got the creepy whispers, did you have any inclination to listen to the one that kept promising power?" Simple, he said--though he was also suddenly aware of the fact he didn't know if there were any immediate differences in choosing, if maybe Ash hadn't, actually, chosen to follow the power whispers.

"Do you remember where you were before?" That is the part that is throwing him off the most. Ashley knows who and what he is. What he can't seem to place is where he had been before. Feels like a dream he knows he had but can't remember.

That question makes the corners of his lips tick up. He can't help but to think as looks over Kavinsky's sharp features and dark eyes that there is way more to him then what he sees. Young but he's smart. A little dark. Definitely haunted. "Never trust anyone promising power. No one just gives it away. There is always a cost. I heard the whispers but...I don't need power. I have it. What about you, did you listen?"

Kavinsky hesitated. There was a truthful way to answer that, and a way where he'd be able to shrug off the pain right now, as if the question hadn't already brought back the clearest of the memories he'd rather not be in possession of. That's not enough, Ronan had said, and it hadn't just been the quality of the dream that had helped K fill in the gap, to know that he'd really meant you're not enough. Not good enough. He couldn't remember, precisely, what happened after that, though. He knew he'd intended to wake with the dragon, but he couldn't remember actually doing it. Surely he'd been awake when the portal or whatever had consumed him, but it was all dreamy, soft and hazy and unsure.

Eventually, he replied, "Yeah. Fuckin' party of the year, planned it for weeks." It was almost sarcastic, a touch bitter. But, when he continued, his tone was a bit gentler. "You don't remember where you were?"

The other answer made him feel some sort of way. Complicated. Maybe relieved. "Fuck no. I've got enough power; I don't need more." The fuck would he do with more power? It wasn't like it would fill the gaping hole inside of him, the part of him that was desperate for kinship and affection. "Not sure how I feel about justice and whatever else, but at least that didn't feel like I'd end up as part of some fucked up dark empire or something."

"Party of the year, huh?" Everything about Kavinsky feels coated in the oily stain of pain. His gift for manipulating emotions lets him pick up on what other people are feeling. He can't read thoughts, he doesn't actually feel the emotion like an empath would. Just knows what it is, especially when it is strong or loud.

There is a quick shrug of his broad shoulders, lips tug down in a soft frown. "I remember where I am from, my life. But, I think I was some place else before here. It's weird to explain...it's like when you wake up and know you had a dream but can't really remember what it was. Could just be a feeling though. Trying to sort it out."

Good and evil, right and wrong, it's all complicated. "Think we're all one bad decision away from being the villain in some one's story, right? What one person thinks is justice another might think is revenge or cruelty." Ash takes it one day at a time, one decision at a time. Lives in that gray area between good and evil knowing there are choices he might have to make that could take him in either direction.

"So, what'll it be, sweetheart? Truth or dare?"

"Yeah. I do the best 4th of July bashes. Had a tank one year." It was easier to talk about previous years than the most recent one, the one he'd left behind just a few hours ago.

He made a sympathetic noise. "I don't usually have that problem with dreams, but I know what you mean. Some shit's a little...fuzzy for me. Like, certain specifics." But everything else was good. Well, not good, but solid in his memory. "Maybe it's like- fuck, you know when jet lag throws you off, except we came through some kind of portal thing, right? Maybe it fucks with our brains." He did not, after all, know jack shit about the effects of mysterious magical portals on the average brain--or body.

Kavinsky thought he was already the villain in someone else's story. A lot of people's, probably. He told himself he didn't care, that what other people thought about him didn't change who he actually was, but...he did care. He couldn't not. It was just easier to pretend, brush it off and embrace being a monster. "Yeah. And just-" He glanced away, for a moment, a heartbeat, before scrapping the rest of that sentence, and instead- "I don't want to be caught up in anyone's crusade or whatever. I'll make my own decisions."

Refocusing his attention on Ash, he smirked, slouching a little more in his chair. "Truth. Hit me with it."

"Where the hell did you get a tank from?" He was going to have to tell Chrissy to step up her party planning.

Ash taps a finger against his own chest. "I feel like I lost something. Something big." Someone. That's what he kept thinking, someone not something. He hated feeling that way. Like he walked into a room and can't remember why he crossed the threshold in the first place. "Keep thinking maybe my mind is trying to protect me by not letting me remember."

Nodding in agreement he picks up his freshly delivered drink and taps it against Kavinsky's. "To making your own decisions."

Taking a swallow from his drink gives him time to think of a question to ask. He had been pretty certain K would choose dare. "What kind of power do you already have?"

Kavinsky grinned. "Russia. Had it gift wrapped and delivered." It wasn't the truth, but it was the story everyone back home knew in rumors alone.

The expression slowly faded off his face in the next few moments though, while he considered that. He wondered, sometimes, if that was how Prokopenko felt about the memories K had omitted upon dreaming him back to life. He wondered if Proko even knew, and if he did, if he was bitter about it. Kavinsky couldn't help it, though; he hadn't wanted his best friend to have to remember dying. He didn't deserve that.

"Yeah, sometimes I wish my mind was that kind to me," he said. "But- not knowing would drive me crazy. Sorry you're going through that."

Picking up his own drink, he nodded with a murmured agreement.

He felt a little like he'd backed himself into a corner, and he mulled over how to answer while he sipped his drink. There were ways he could reply that weren't a lie--they just wouldn't be the entire truth. He wondered if that would be cheating, and he also wondered if he cared. It was too late to change his choice. He wasn't a coward, it was just...complicated.

"It's influence." He didn't quite make eye contact while he said it, but not because he felt guilty about hedging. "You know, when you're the one people go to when they need something, because they know you'll deliver quality. Everyone knows my name, even if they've never met me. 'Course, it doesn't mean shit here, but-" he shrugged. He wasn't bothered by that.

"Sounds like some mobster shit, K." Ash says it with a laugh but he's serious. The Glass Walker has cops and mobsters in his pocket, no other way to do real business in New York. Obtaining a tank absolutely sounds like something he would source through a made man.

"Probably better that I don't know." His coping mechanisms aren't always healthy and he has a tendency to let himself get lost in those darker emotions.

There is a nod of approval and agreement to Kavinsky's answer. Ash wasn't expecting to meet someone who could understand how that felt but here he was, answering that question in a way Ash might have answered it for himself. "We have that in common. Being the go to guy. The guy that makes shit happen." He snorted out a soft laugh through his nose. "Wasn't expecting we would have much in common, sweetheart. Surprise, surprise."

"Nah, that's my father's shit. I just asked real nicely," Kavinsky replied. What a world it was where he felt more comfortable talking about how his father was a mobster, than he did about things like being a dreamer. Then again, the rumors had been pretty fierce in Henrietta, and it'd been fact in Jersey. It hadn't ever been worth the energy to try denying it; it wasn't like he'd ever been proud of his father. Kavinsky lost nothing by confirming the truth.

"Probably. Maybe it's too awful to remember." But it was always a struggle, going 'round in a circle between the frustration of not knowing and the potential for it to be something awful you wished you'd never remembered in the first place.

"It's nice to matter to people, and to be able just- to do shit." He wished it was that easy though, that he mattered and people really gave a fuck about him. He wished he mattered for other reasons.

He smirked. "Good thing I like surprises, babe. So what'll it be? Truth or dare?"

"Asked nicely for a tank." He grins and shakes his head. Ash doesn't doubt it, actually he looks impressed. "Now I know who to go to for party supplies."

There is more to that story but he isn't going to press him for that information yet. Even if he wants to. Ash understands needing to keep secrets. He has many of them himself.

"Yeah, it's nice to matter." Ash pauses, thinking. "Also feels good to have people who only want you. That don't care about what you can do for them. You need that too."

Babe. Ash can't help but to smirk at that. "Think I can trust you so I'm going to be brave and say dare."

"I can be very persuasive," he said with a grin. Though, now he couldn't help but wonder just how persuasive someone needed to be to actually get a tank. Of course, in his case he could just throw money at the issue until it was resolved. "Hell yeah. That's what I like to hear."

Ah, yeah, about that. It only took a moment or two for his grin to waver and fade. "Not really sure what that feels like." He was sure Prokopenko cared, and probably the rest of his boys, and that was important, it mattered, but- he wanted Ronan to care. It was too late for him to wish his family cared; he couldn't stand any of them.

Luckily, there was a distraction before he could dwell on that too much. Because only one singular person had ever said they trusted him in any capacity. He didn't want to fuck that up immediately, but he also wasn't always sure what was an acceptable ask and what was too far, so he was just going to take a wild stab at it.

"Mmm, take your shirt off, then." He wouldn't be an asshole about it though, if that was too much--he also didn't know if that was something that would get them kicked out, but considering other things...maybe it would be fine. He didn't really care, either way.

"I can see that. You have that look. Bet you turn those puppy eyes on, sly little smile and just make what you want happen." Devious. Charming. Like calls to like, he thinks.

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."

"Yeah, pretty much." He didn't usually need things from people, when he could dream nearly anything he wanted, but when he did need something, he liked to think he was charming. He was usually cruel, but he still knew how to make someone feel special, how to change someone's mind, either with a smile or flirtations or offering something they wanted in return.

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."

"Plenty of time...unless you don't believe you will. Get the feeling that might be the case." Usually he is one for keeping eye contact. Only now his eyes have drifted to K's hand. Ash isn't afraid of emotion, of others or his own.

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.

Kavinsky shrugged. "I dunno. Shit was kind of fucked like, a few hours ago. Before suddenly I was in Ohio. Thinkin'...maybe things will have a chance to start looking up, here." But he didn't know yet, and it hinged heavily on what was going to be expected of him and how easily he could say 'fuck this, I'm going home' if needed.

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."

"Good to get away from shit sometimes too, you know? Different perspective." He chuckles. "Ohio isn't the first place I would think of to get that perspective but, shit, why not?"

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."

"Mmm, yeah, that's true." Getting some space between him and all of his problems, the way his life felt like it'd been falling apart in front of his eyes-...it probably was good for him. "And fuck, right? At the very least, I'd prefer Jersey-" though it wasn't his top pick "-even if I was the worst at surfing." He'd always liked the sound of the ocean, either way.

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."

"Jersey, huh?" He says with a half cocked grin. "Where in Jersey?" No, he is not going to tease him like every other New Yorker because he's from Jersey. Probably because he's not a native to the city. He never really understood all of that nonsense anyway. That smile quirks up just a little higher. "Best part of being the worst at something? Always room to improve." Ash sighs longingly. "Fuck, I miss surfing."

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."

"Atlantic City." Which might not have been his choice if he'd had a say in things, but his parents had been happy enough there. He guessed. He'd been happier with the beach and boardwalk, honestly. "Yeah, couldn't fuckin' surf in Virginia though, or else I woulda kept up with it." Maybe. "Can't even ask you to teach me anything, cause this is Ohio." He scrunched his face for a moment. "Where're you from?"

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.

Test Drive Meme #1

Joseph Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle | OTA

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

No worries at all! :3

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