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October 2018 Test Drive Meme

OCTOBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: HALLOWEEN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Wet and rotting corpses/zombies, ghosts, violence, blood, knives, possessed dolls, options for underage drinking

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

It’s not Halloween if you don’t make a trip to a cheesy haunted house. At least, that’s what everyone in Deerington likes to say. The old Victorian stands at the top of a hill, rickety and in desperate need of a new paint job. The yard and porch have been decorated with what you’d expect for your typical haunted house; fake spider webs spread across the overhang, painted foam grave markers with cheesy names like “Here lies Richard Cranium” and “BEWARE!!” in creepy letter etchings. You can see the blinking of variously timed strobe lights in some windows and the shadow of what you’re pretty sure is a full-sized doll standing in the window, meant to look like someone staring out at you. The rocking chair on the porch near the door has a skeleton with a bowl of candy in his lap, and a sign is propped up against the wall next to him.

“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”

Well that sounds promising.

The first few rooms you enter are appropriately cheesy. There’s the silly burst of air that you hear just before a plastic figuring pops out of a poorly constructed coffin, the clicking sound of the machinery inside echoing in the room when it starts to pull back and the lid closes once again. There’s fog machines trying to give the appropriately spooky air, stuffed sheets shaped to look like dead bodies wrapped up laying in piles on the floor with fake blood staining the white fabric, black lighting to show off words scribbled on doors like “TURN BACK NOW” and “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.” Nothing you haven’t seen before. It might be even worse than things you’ve seen before, over the top cheesy, boring enough to give a yawn. Each door seems to open on its own so you don’t even have to touch the handles.

As you make your way through the next automatic door, the room you walk into is different than those before it. It’s a regular children’s room. A bed against the wall near the window, a dresser in the corner, a small desk with a chair. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the lights not being on, and the strange flickering light in the closet. You step towards it, figuring you’re in for another jump scare, but the door doesn’t open. Whether you’re naturally the curious sort or not, something in the back of your mind makes you want to open the door and see what’s on the inside.

If you fight it and walk towards the next automatic door, you’ll find you’ve walked out to the backyard of the house, those same foam decorations and a dozen or more jack o’ lanterns lighting your way on a path back to the town.

If you choose to pull the door open, however, it’ll take you into yet another room, with a flickering television playing nothing but static. Once you step past the doors of the closet, they slam shut behind you and whoever else dared to enter. The doors won’t lock no matter what you do, no matter how strong the person shaking the handles or pushing against the wood may be. You realize you broke the one rule; you’ve touched something. But can things now really touch you?

The only light source in the whole room is that television and it’s not lighting up much inside the room around it. If you squint when the TV is at its brightest setting, you can just make out another door. Your exit, you hope. But as you make your way towards the door, the flickering suddenly stops, the TV steadily bright, a low humming noise coming from the screen, and suddenly the door seems several more feet away from you than it was a second ago. Before you can reach the door, there’s the sound of trickling water from behind you. If you choose to look back, you’ll see something coming out from the screen - a girl with soaked clothing and pale, rotted skin. She emerges fully from the glass and starts to move towards you. You know it’s best to start running for that door. If you stay and try to fight, you’ll find that no regular weapons work on her, though special weapons and powers that are effective against spirits will definitely do the trick. For those who don’t have any of these at their disposal, however, there is one more hope besides just trying to run; two old school VHS tape sit on the table near by, a fancy machine between them that is meant to copy one to the other. Work as a team and have one distract her while the other records, and you’ll find that she disappears as quickly as she flickered on the screen and the TV will return to static.

Regardless of what you choose before carrying on, the next room you come to as the door slams and locks behind you is entirely different. Brightly lit and filled with what seems like hundreds of porcelain dolls, it’s almost hard to tell where there could possibly be another exit hidden among the massive shelves. You can start to wind your way through them, but before long, you start to hear the sound of running feet, the jingling of bells, the swish of satin, and most eerily the sounds of children giggling - but there’s nothing that sounds save about them. Some of the dolls you saw on the last shelf seem like they’ve moved and are sitting in the corner or laying in a new position on a new shelf. Sometimes you swear you can see their heads turn to watch you pass, but it has to be a trick of the light, doesn’t it?

That is until one of those dolls runs by you, brandishing something shiny in their hands - something sharp. A knife, you realize too late, as it tries to slice at your legs and knock you down. You can kick them away and they’ll go flying, and when the porcelain smashes, the doll will scream in agony. You notice there’s blood pouring from the hole that formed, spreading quickly across the ground. The dolls are easy to kill, but are they really just dolls? You can take your time to contemplate that later, as now you have to fight your way through the violent and armed toys to reach the door at the end of the maze of shelves. Hopefully you can get out without too many severe injuries.

When (or if) you do manage to get to the next room, you seem to have a chance to take a breath and tend to any wounds. It’s decorated like the room of a small cottage, a large pot over the fireplace that isn’t lit, and several jars full of (possibly rotting) food and herbs on the shelves. You see a book on the stand in the center, latched shut and covered in dust. You can open it, if you want, but remember the warning you ignored that got you in trouble in the first place. It’s probably better to carry on to the next room.

If you do choose to open the book, though, there will be eerily glowing text lining the pages, the light will seem to poor out and fill the room, and you’ll be transported back out in front of the house.

Those who continued through the door will find themselves out in the backyard. Just like for those who got out sooner, there are dozens of jack o lanterns, but the graves don’t look like they’re made of foam this time. They’re real stone, engraved with real names and real dates this time. And the ground underneath them seems to be moving, like someone’s trying to crawl out of there. Better not to wait around. Soon as you start to move down the path, you’ll start to hear the sounds of groans as the undead start to crawl from their own graves, pulling themselves up through the dirt, and determined to get to the only food source they see - you. The zombies seem like they’re never ending, coming from every inch of the yard, but at least they’re just like normal zombies - completely incapable of being killed unless you cut off the head. There are shovels lying next to a few graves if you need a quick weapon, but there’s also still always the option to run as fast as you can up the stone path to the front of the house and back towards the street.

When you do finally manage to get back to the front, there’s a momentary blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone near it for a few seconds. When it finally fades, any leftover zombies chasing you have disappeared and the house looks like the same, cheesy haunted house you walked up to in the first place. If for some reason you decide to go and explore the backyard again, the grass will be back to normal, and the graves will all be replaced by cheaply painted foam once more.

Was that all in your head? Who knows. But maybe it’s best to just get out of here.

WE DID THE MASH

Somehow the street lamps have all been converted to oil based flames, the Authority are in witch hats, and every where you go there is music that seems to be playing from faintly glowing bats hanging upside down from telephone wires. The bats will open their mouths in succession, seeming somehow capable of producing the sounds of instruments and singers alike of popular Halloween songs.

Yards are decorated as thoroughly as the front of stores. Maybe you haven't bothered to decorate, but your neighbor sure has! Fake gravestones are propped up in yards, giant fake spiders in trees, and no matter where you walk, the ground seems covered in thick, rolling fog from machines. Or at least you hope it's coming from machines. Hell, you can't even find it in yourself to be too worried! Everyone around you is having way too good of a time! And God, there is food everywhere! Might as well grab a bite while you're out, huh?

It's tempting to break loose and dance. Jack-O-Lanterns absolutely crowd the streets. There's more than you can even begin to count, and all of them are lit all throughout the night. Even if you accidentally trip over some, they don't seem to catch fire to anything or go out! Some neighbors have camp fires set up with marshmallows to roast, while others have...are those broomsticks? Well that's kinda cool, you guess. Correction: it's really cool since you can actually pick one up and take it for a fly! Make sure to attach a little lamp to the front though because God knows it's dangerous flying at night. The brooms only work if you wear the appropriately provided hats, of course, but you can keep both the broom and hat indefinitely and have a readily available means of flight in Deerington after! Be forewarned though: the brooms are as easily broken as regular brooms and the hats easily blown away in the wind.

TRICK OR TREATS

At any of the events, especially the nighttime partying, you can find any number of the following treats (and their potential side effects):

Donuts (Will make you deliriously happy. Everything is amazing to you. May cause a lot of affection. A lot of affection.)
Candy Apples (You will eagerly tell someone everything you like about them. Talk about a sweet tooth.)
Candy Corn (Will make you extremely sad. Like god, you'll be wondering why you hate yourself so much.)
Pumpkin Spice Lattes (Causes suspicious amounts of obedience and a desire to do what you're told.)
Hot Chocolate (Can provide some minor healing. Best stuff to drink with a common cold!)
Hot or Cold Apple Cider (Nothing will happen. It's just really good.)
Alcoholic Cider (This isn't your grandma's apple cider. This stuff will knock you on your ass. Anyone who drinks this will get wasted regardless of whether or not they are immune to alcohol or even ingest regular food. It only takes one or two before you start to get tipsy, but any more than that and you'll be well on your way to drunk. Please drink responsibly. We don't need any FUIs.)

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's a quirk of a brow at the answer he gets, not quite buying it. And for a moment he wonders if the other is perhaps bored with him, which makes him frown. At least until he's suddenly asking to go to his place, which his drunk mind takes in the wrong way, so he'll smirk softly.]

well... that's a bit forward, but I'm not complaining.

[Then there's another pause to consider the idea that he doesn't actually live in this world, but another has told him where he woke up is his home now. He points off in the direction of a line of houses.]

I... I think it was that way.

[A soft huff, knowing exactly how that sounds.]

I wasn't really paying it much mind when I arrived. I didn't realize I'd be stuck here indefinitely.

Nobody realises they'd be stuck here indefinitely. [ Logan sounds a tad bitter as he says it, but he looks down the street, drinks his cider until it's gone, and then tosses the plastic cup into a nearby bin. ] Better to bite that bullet as soon as you can.

[ Hands on his hips, he glances back at Dorian with a lightly raised brow and a stern tilt to his lips. ] And that'll be easier when you're sober.

[There's a soft scoff at that and Dorian reaches over to get his glorified walking stick to push himself up to stand.]

Says you, I'm handling all this much better now that I'm not sober, thank you.

[This was always the default when things weren't going quite as planned or he just wanted to piss his father off and create scandal. He may have done less of this since joining the Inquisition, except when the Chargers would drag him to the Tavern and buy him drinks, but at that time, no matter how bleak, he always felt like he belonged or was doing the right thing. Here? He feels so absolutely powerless and trapped and he hates it. He's not used to not having the answers or the control he once had. No one would blame him for wanting to get lost in his cups and perhaps a willing someone to take him to bed.]

Yeah, [ a snort ] let's see how well your wasted ass reacts when you get attacked by a fucking monster.

[ This is spoken without even a hint of sarcasm. Logan's not the type to joke. ]

Bet you haven't noticed all these people're pretty fuckin' possessed, huh?

[ Indeed-- if Dorian took a closer look at them, he'd notice most everyone's eyes in the partying crowd were bloodshot and red. Hell, bleeding crimson, with a sort of desperation in the way they dance and move and grind against each other.

Logan weaves through them like they're nothing.

He's had a month of nonstop parties, night after fucking night. This is just a Deerington thing. ]

Well, that would normally not be a problem but as it stands this place is doing something strange to my magics. It's as if I'm a novice all over again. [He's very clearly Not Happy with this development.]

We'd be lucky if I didn't blow myself up or freeze you solid if I tried anything. [A soft, if dejected, sigh. But he'll end his ranting to take a closer look at the people that Logan is pointing out to him, how their eyes look strange. He can sort of feel that need and desperation in their movements. He'll blame the booze for making him consider joining them. He keeps his head though, following Logan towards the row of homes.]

I suppose that's just one more thing I'll have to be cautious of. We mages are prone to possession, a particularly strong Mage, such as myself, is very enticing to demons and evil spirits... they want our power. I still have my strength of will but...

[If his magic is as messed up as it is, if he's weakened even in the slightest...]

My drunken state may be the least of your worries.

Edited 2018-10-10 00:57 (UTC)

[ Listening to him speak (so there're more mages in this world than X'rhun-- all right), Logan can't help the small snort at the comment on Dorian's being drunk. ] Yeah, I kinda figured that from the beginning. [ Even he's sure he could be doing better things than escorting a swaying man to his so-called home, but given he's already started doing it, Logan figures he might as well see it through all the way.

He reaches a hand out every so often, though, careful to keep Dorian steady every time he might topple over.

It's a good thing he didn't drink any of the alcohol. ]

Any consolation, I haven't seen any real demons yet. [ That "yet" is extremely heavy. ] But you should think about re-learning all the magic you knew.

I met another mage in town. Maybe he can help.

I know I sure as hell ain't got a magic bone in my body.

[Dorian thinks he's walking just fine, he doesn't notice the extra sway to his hips or how he's leaning a little more heavily on his staff. Or the gentle, occasional touch of a steadying hand on the opposite side that he holds his staff, a light push into place when he nudges too close to Logan. He thinks he's walking a straight line on the sidewalk but that's clearly not how reality works when you're drunk.

There's a soft groan and a somewhat childish sigh of a noise at the thought of relearning everything.]

I've studied my whole life and became one of the best Mages Thedas has to offer, and now this? It's absolutely humiliating to think I now need to start over from the bottom.

[He might've chuckled at the implication of being on the bottom, but this is serious and he's sulking.]

Magic doesn't come from the bones, darling. [Another soft sigh of defeat.]

But I shall meet your friend... [A pause to consider, there was that fellow from earlier...]

Is he a cat in a coat?

[Which the more he thinks about it the street is starting to look familiar because he walked it earlier and...]

Oh! I think that's the one! [A point at a soft mint colored townhome with white trim.]

[ Seeing the house, Logan is briefly reminded of how desperately he has to repair his own. He nods, though, leading Dorian along. It's not long now before he's sure the man's going to be safe, but he spares a glance behind him to be sure nothing's following them.

Once satisfied, he lets out a low noise of acknowledgement. ]

Cat in a coat is right. [ Remembering the way X'rhun had hissed in an incredibly feline manner, he snorts. He'd elaborate on how he knows him, but Logan doesn't even really know the guy's name yet. ] I've seen him conjure lightning, set things on fire.

[ He checks the front door, finds it unlocked (that's unsafe), and then pushes it, holding it open for Dorian with no intention to follow inside after him. ]

You should ask him for help. He's nice enough I think he'd give it.

Edited 2018-10-11 01:17 (UTC)

I could too, lighting and fire are some of my favorites, I can manipulate ice and spirit energies as well but... well, as I said, I'd better not, for our sake. Don't want to burn down this free home I've been given.

[He sighs and moves up the short stairs and across his stoop into the home, smiling softly as Logan is the perfect gentleman the entire time, holding the door and all.]

I'll find him again somehow, i'm sure. And I'll ask.

[He stops just inside when he realizes the other isn't making a move to follow and turns back.]

You're not a vampire are you? You're welcome to come in and sit for awhile. I don't have much to offer seeing as I've just arrived and haven't officially moved in but... I

[He's sort of afraid... if he's honest. He's never been without his magic and if there are monsters or demons about. It's not a world he knows. He doesn't have any friends yet.]

I would like the company, if you don't have anywhere to be.

[ There is a mild moment of offence at the question, and then a slightly less mild defensiveness as Logan's irrational hate of vampires flares. ] I'm not a fucking-- [ But Dorian's voice goes softer, smaller, and so Logan shuts himself up with a visible press of his lips together.

And exhales slowly to calm himself back down.

It's not just the way Dorian sounds, but the words that come with it. The invitation, the mention of wanting company-- it's not like Logan doesn't understand that, and maybe that's why it hits harder than it should.

So his shoulders slump slightly as his body relaxes, and Logan steps in and shuts the door gently behind him. ] Yeah, I don't have anywhere to be.

[ Except maybe checking some papers for the school day, but most of his students are sleeping in class these days, anyway. ]

I'm the sober guy. [ Rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, he shrugs. ] Watchin' over sleeping drunks is part of the job description.

[There's a moment there where it seems he's struck a nerve and it's a curious one at that. He was only joking, he didn't mean to insult him. Who gets that angry over vampires? They aren't even real... But he keeps that in the back of his mind for later, or so he thinks, he'll probably forget about it.]

Thank you... [He won't admit how comforting that sounds right about now? he's alone and he feels vulnerable without his magic to keep him safe. Still...]

I'm sorry to put this on you, you don't even know me. [Dorian makes himself comfortable on his couch, which feels so strange to him because he's never sat on it before but it's now HIS. The fabric is wrong and he's not sure about the color or style, but it's comfortable enough... he supposes. There's a sigh before he goes back to drinking that cider he's brought with him. It's a miracle he hasn't spilled any. But then, he'd said he wouldn't.]

You're welcome to sleep here. You can have my bed, leave me here on the couch. I honestly can't promise that I'll even be able to sleep.

[Should've let him have one more cup of alcoholic cider Logan. Though... give it an hour or two he might be out like a light before you know it.]

Uh... listen, if anyone's taking your bed, it's gotta be you. [ Logan spends a few moments standing awkwardly in Dorian's living room, but eventually goes to sit on the coffee table instead, facing him. He doesn't know if he has permission to sit at his side and he's not about to start assuming.

It's a little appalling how Dorian's mood took such a downward swing. Logan puts his hands by either of his thighs, legs spread just enough to be comfortable, and tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling. ]

If you're not sleeping, you might as well tell me about yourself. [ Not that Logan wants to pressure him into talking, however, and he hopes it doesn't come across as such. ] Likes, dislikes, hobbies, dreams for the future...

[ It's like the first day of school. ]

[Had the Mage not been drunk, or the fact he has no real attachment to anything in his new home just yet, he might've fussed at Logan for sitting on his coffee table before him. Tables are not for asses he would say, or something to that effect. He doesn't care at the moment though. As Logans eyes go to the ceiling, Dorian's take in the look of the man before him, finding his gaze wandering lower as the other sits, knees spread and drawing his focus to certain parts of him. He snaps himself out of it and averts his eyes, blaming the alcohol for making him feel warmer.

Dorian can't help but to chuckle softly.] Well, aren't you just the gentleman? Taking me home and wanting to learn about me.

[He sighs.] Lesser men would've easily taken advantage of me in this state, and I would've let them.

[Quite happily, is the unsaid tone there as he sips his cider. He'll clear his throat.] And as far as the bed goes, Logan, right? I must insist, if I pass out here just leave me. You've been so kind you deserve the more comfortable place to rest.

[But, of course, if Logan doesn't stay and decides to carry him off while he's asleep he won't be able to argue anyway.]

As for myself? Where should I even start? I like men, and wine, and luxury, and fine fabrics and being an Altus Mage from Tevinter. I dislike sailing and rainy, cold weather. My hobbies are... well, reading and learning about all that I can, especially where it concerns magic. I hope to one day return to the Inquisition and help them save the world from a man with an over-powered and corrupt army who thinks himself a god. And after that? Perhaps I will return home to try and fix all the things wrong with it...

[He clears his throat.]

And you? Same questions.

Edited 2018-10-15 17:59 (UTC)

[ Logan files away the information he feels is especially important: Altus Mage, Tevinter, the Inquisition, "a man with an overpowered and corrupt army who thinks himself a god". Everything else goes to the receptacle reserved for social interactions and awkward friendships. It's an okay system in his head, he figures. ]

You sound like a hero. [ It's the sort of thing Cyclops would say, Logan thinks, but Cyclops always had been better than him at being friendly. Being nice. ] I hope you get back, too.

But uh. I like milk and fruit. [ He rubs at the side of his jaw. ] I don't like loud noises. Hobbies are reading and smoking.

Dreams... [ Logan's hand falls away, landing to link fingers with his other one as he shrugs. ] I just want to be happy, I guess.

[Dorian smiles but laughs at the idea of being a hero.]

Me? No, far from it. I'm only aiding the real hero, our inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste. Andraste is a goddess, by the by, the inquisitor is the chosen one. I'm not sure what to believe honestly, even she doesn't believe she's some holy savior. But I believe in her and I believe she will save us.

[A nod.] I hope so too, and sooner rather than later, I'm certain I'll figure some way to wake myself up.

[He finishes his cider and sets the cup aside, listening intently to Logan's likes and dislikes and all that.]

Simple tastes. Do you not eat meat? Are you one of those types that only eats vegetables and fruit? [Simple curiosity. It was a common diet among the Elvan, and some mages in Tevinter who've fallen into a fad.]

I suppose we all want to be happy, that's a good dream to have. I'm ... sorry if you haven't found your happiness yet.

It's not your fault. [ But he appreciates the sentiment, shown in the slight curve of his lips. Dorian doesn't have to concern himself with Logan's goals in life; he barely knows him. ]

And I eat meat. I eat anything that's safe, anyway.

Fruit's just the only thing that my taste buds work on. [ He pauses, then realises how that might sound. ] Not-- literally, but I couldn't give two shits about anything else.

's just food.

[Dorian takes it all in, and if anything sticks with him after this evening it'll be the fruit thing.]

Sometimes it's the little things in life that bring you the most happiness. [He trails off a moment, remember when the Cat fellow showed him his basket and he'll get up, wobbling a little in doing so as he remembers the room spins when he walks. He goes to the counter where his basket sits and he pulls out a jar. He brings it back to Logan and offers it to him, inside are some fresh green grapes with probably a handful missing.]

Here. Help yourself. It's the least I can do to repay you for your kindness. [He's eaten what was necessary out of it, he won't fade away any time soon. And as far as he can tell they're just grapes. Nothing magical about them, so it shouldn't hurt to share.]

[ For a moment Logan moves to rise, but seeing how Dorian seems to have everything under control, he sits on the table again and watches him go about. If he expected anything, it wasn't the man's Basket and the grapes inside, but the corner of his mouth pulls up slightly in the simplicity of how nice it is for him to offer. ]

Thanks. [ Careful about the Basket, he puts on the table to his side as well. He's not particularly hungry, but he thinks it's the significance of the gesture that matters, so he pulls the grapes out, holding it in one palm while his other hand plucks and pops the first piece into his mouth. ] I've liked fruit since I was a kid.

[ He holds his palm and the grapes on them out towards Dorian, too. Grapes are arguably the easiest fruit to share. ]

[Dorian gives the other a soft smile but raises his hand in a way as to say "no thank you." The mage then sort of perches himself on the arm of the couch, considering Logan for a moment.]

What was your childhood like? Where are you from?

Uh... [ Depending on the years, it's a loaded question. Logan decides to go with his childhood before the claws, popping another grape into his mouth and letting it burst between his teeth. ]

We were rich. Old money. [ Swallow. ] I was sickly, always on the verge of dying, so I wasn't allowed out.

Mother oversaw my indoor education. Father was always busy with the workers on the estate an' only came home at night.

I was friends with the groundskeeper's son. Besides that, though, I never really met anyone new.

[Dorian's brows loft slightly hearing that Logan was from money. He's... not exactly like people from his world or where he's from when it comes to people who are born rich. Typically there's very specific grooming and Logan seem so ... well different than he's used to. It's not bad, just surprising. Also surprising is the idea the other used to be sickly. Look at him now! he seems to be fit and in very good shape, that's for sure. Built like a brick shit house too.]

That's not an uncommon story, and if my father had had his way I'm certain I would have had much the same fate. My people. Mages from Tevinter, specifically those of us born in the upper class as I was, are literally bred to be the best and brightest. They marry each other to create perfect mage babies, not for love. In fact it's fairly common that most married couples simply hate each other for the entirety of their lives together, taking on lovers on the side to fulfill their desires where their husbands or wives can not.

[He sighs.] I was sent to the most prestigious of mage schools, over and over again, as I tended to wreak havoc and get expelled at every turn I could. You see, I didn't like being the perfect son, I wanted to be myself. I was practically married before I was born, a lovely young woman was to be my wife when I was old enough... but unfortunately for my father I knew from a young age that I didn't want to be miserable my entire life because it was what I was expected to do. So I rebelled wherever I could by being a handful and a disappointment.

[ If Logan expected anything, it's not how open Dorian suddenly becomes. He supposes it must have something to do with the drink, and he eats his grapes in silence as he listens to him.

And all he can think is-- ] Disappointin' your parents ain't a measure of how good a kid you were.

[ He doesn't say more than that, though. Probably best if he keeps any negative remarks towards someone else's parents to himself. ]

You're being yourself now. [ Logan guesses. ] Not everyone can do that.

Yes... well... [There's a small, pained lit to his words for a moment, voice a little shaky at the thought. Deep down there is a part of him that wanted nothing more than to make his father proud. He wanted a better relationship with the man until he realized what was clearly more important to him. His sons happiness wasn't as important as power and prestige among their equals. Dorian didn't want to be a pawn. He didn't want to pretend to be straight and have to try and breed more magelettes like himself to have to live up to some high standard that was forced upon them. To live miserable lives screaming on the inside until they perished, unhappy and unfulfilled just playing their intended role.]

Trust me, I take pride in being an awful son and the subject of hushed whispers within the courts. I take my role of pariah very seriously.

[And though he takes pride in his skill, in all the things that did in fact make his father very proud, it was more for the idea that one day he wanted to return home, take up position in the Magisterium or at least a point of power to make some kind of headway and impact. He may not make Archon, but he would do whatever he could within his power to make change for the better in Tevinter. Whatever it may take.]

Yes. [He admits with the last part.] That is true. Above all else, I didn't care what the cost, I would be who I wanted to be and no one would tell me different.

[A hand wave.] but enough about myself, what about you? How did you eventually get out? You seem perfectly healthy.

Edited 2018-10-30 15:32 (UTC)

[ Logan wants to say that he's perfectly fine listening to Dorian speak-- there's nothing interesting he has to say in comparison-- but the questions have him pausing, and then furrowing his brows. ]

Mother kicked me out for being... different. [ And I ran because I murdered my birth father, he'd add, if it wasn't as terrible as it is. ]

I have these abilities. [ He's never been ashamed of them so much as he's been wary of mutant racism, but he's been in Deerington long enough to realise that most of the people in this world don't seem to hate mutants as much as they do in his world. So, although he lifts a hand to scratch awkwardly at a bearded cheek, he doesn't feel threatened telling Dorian the truth. ] One of them's the ability to heal myself. The other one's having an extra set of bones I can push out of my hands.

But if your magic ain't working right here, my healing's stopped working, too.

[ He holds his hand out, showing the back of it. One scar lies between his index and middle, middle and ring, and ring and pinky fingers for three scars total, each of them thin and clean and uniform in size. ]

This is the first time I've scarred since I was thirteen.

[There's a sort of quiet stillness that falls over him, especially for a drunk who seems almost sort of noisy just sitting still. But all it took for his entire focus and attention to be on Logan was to utter the words "kicked out for being different" His heart goes out to him and he's absolutely curious about what makes him different, about his abilities. And at first it seems odd to him to be shunned for being able to heal oneself. That is such a common ability, especially among mages. One of the first they are taught. But then he continues... and his brows loft with disbelief and curiosity. An extra set of bones in his hands??? Bones that can be pushed out???

Curious grey-silver eyes look to Logan's fist when he raises it and the drunk mage can't help but to lean slightly forward and reach for his hand. He grips his fist in both of his own and pulls it closer to peer at the soft, light scars between his knuckles.]

Fascinating... but... what purpose do the bones serve? Does it hurt? It has to hurt... [He muses, pressing a thumb over the scar and the space between bones to try and feel for the extra ones... even if it's sort of rude to just be touching someone he doesn't even know. Blame it on the booze.]