TEST DRIVE MEME #7

[abraxasmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to the seventh test drive meme for Abraxas! This meme is run a little bit differently than most in that you'll be asked to choose one of the three different arrival scenarios below for your character to take. If you have any questions about this mechanic or anything else related to the TDM, please take a look at the questions below or ask one of your own under the Questions header below. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.

Our Setting pages are full of information on the world of Abraxas, and an overview of the story so far can be found on our Game History page! Anything on that page - including information about the Horizon and the Singularity - can be assumed to be told to newcomers after they arrive, no matter which faction they are received in. For more information on Ambrose and the apprentice mages, Marlo, and Rowan, please see our NPCs page.

You can also find answers to questions asked on previous TDMs in their respective questions threads.

For characters who arrive in SOLVUNN: Recently, following the events in which some of the Summoned received visions of each other's past, locals in Solvunn have begun to approach the Summoned with a sort of awe and respect. Those who arrive in Solvunn will find themselves treated much the same way and may be asked for advice or given gifts that seem like offerings such as wine, harvest bounties, or some incredibly delicious goat cheese. Your character is free to turn these down and should they turn down enough people, they will not be bothered further, out of concern of offending the Summoned.

Arrival

You awaken suspended in the abyss, silent darkness stretching out in all directions. If you try to yell, you'll find that the sound doesn't carry. If you try to move, you'll find it's impossible to tell whether or not you're actually getting anywhere. If you reach for an item you were carrying last time you remember being awake, your hand will only touch bare skin.

You're naked and floating helplessly through the void, and what little air you have in your lungs is running out.

There's a pinprick of light that almost looks like a faraway star but as it grows it becomes clear that it's actually quite close. Through the opening you can see a bright room, but it's hard to make out any individual objects, as if you're looking from beneath rippling water.

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne

A hand plunges through and you realize water is just what it is. Whether you take hold of the hand or not it will grab you and yank you up through the surface, lifting you out until you're sprawled on solid ground. Once you catch your breath, you can get a better look at the surroundings: tall trees and even taller stone pillars surround the platform you're laying on. Behind you is an ornate fountain, the base of which is so deep and so dark you might be compelled to scramble away from it lest it suck you back in to that endless abyss. Ahead of you are the walls of a large castle with several tall towers reaching up towards the sky.

If you had any powers, they feel unusually weak. Attempts to use magic or enhanced strength or powers of any sort fizzle out without any effect, but they don't feel completely gone, either.

Set into an indent on a marble slab behind the fountain is a card bearing the image of one of the arcana.

An apprentice mage - the one whose hand lifted you out of the fountain - brushes the water off on their robes and runs back to join a group of three others, who all stare intently at a mage with highly decorated robes and a large, heavy book. He peers up at you for a moment and starts flipping through the book.

"One moment," he says, not bothering to look up from the tome. He looks tired. "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. We’ll explain everything in a moment, but for now, please calm down. You’re completely fine."

Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the pages, until he stops on one specific passage, stares at it for a moment, and then sighs with relief:

"Finally!"

Ambrose's expression brightens, relief visible across his features. He waves one of the apprentices over with a fine silk tunic, pants, and some basic sandals and with a wave of his hand they reshape to fit you perfectly.

"Oh, thank heavens," he says, closing the book and approaching you with a sort of worn-out relief. “I was beginning to believe we’d never get it exactly right.”

Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem to visibly relax, and the one that handed you the tunic stops to take the tarot card down from the marble slab. If you show any curiosity about the card, they'll let you take a longer look, but won't let you touch it.

"Please, come with me," he says, motioning for you to follow him towards the castle. "As promised, my pupils will explain your current situation. And, ah - if you had any magic of your own, or other special abilities you can't access right now, fear not, they'll return within the week. The summoning takes a lot out of you."

One of the apprentices steps forward and rattles on and on about the castle, Thorne itself, the names of a bunch of royals and nobles, and of course, your reason for being here. The Kingdom and the world itself is in great peril, and tales of your exploits have reached far and wide across universes. If asked about these exploits, the apprentice will simply smile and shrug. The High Mage was happy to see you and that's good enough.

Once inside the castle you're taken to the North Wing, which has been set up as living quarters for you and your fellow newcomers. There are four people to a room, but each generously-sized bed has opaque curtains that can be drawn around it. You can meet your roommates here and discuss your shared situation (those who were previously brought in may have a great deal of information to tell you), or you can wander around and meet the others.

There's also a dining hall stocked with a rotating 24/7 buffet in celebration of the new honored guests. Somehow, your very favorite food is part of the rotation (or at least an attempted recreation of it given the limited technology available to the Thorneans). The town surrounding the castle is all abuzz as well, with most shops and services willing to give free samples of their wares to the new arrivals.

You may also notice that your sign is embroidered on your tunic: the same image you saw on the card from before with the name of the sign itself beneath it. If you ask the castle residents, they'll tell you a little bit about your sign (and will mostly stick to the positives, although some might point out the negatives).

Last (and, if you ask anyone else in the castle, least) there is a worn stone staircase leading underground to the dungeon. You can go there, if you wish, but all powers are restricted in the dungeons and most of the cells stand empty.

Scenario Two: Welcome to the Free Cities

You find yourself pulled from the water by a pair of strong hands. Dry warmth hits you at once as you're set on a warm hard floor. As your senses return you realize you're on dull ruddy stone and surrounded by strangers. Men and women in unfamiliar uniforms of brown and red leather stand in a semi-circle around a small pool of water. The very pool you were just pulled from. The water is still now, rimmed in pale gold tiles with odd symbols etched into them. Across it on the far side is a raised pedestal with a card propped on it. The card bears an arcana symbol.

You feel weak. Drained. Any abilities or magical powers you have seem far away and impossible to access. You're in what looks like a cave lit by dozens and dozens of torches set into the wall. There's no furniture or decoration to be seen besides the pool. It's almost uncomfortably warm and there's the sound of rushing wind somewhere in the distance. Flickering shadows obscure the faces of the guards. A robed woman stands off to the side, looking at you anxiously and then to the authoritative woman standing before you. She's grinning, dressed in a fancier uniform than the others. There's a sword at her hip. A guard covers you with a blanket and returns to their place in the semi-circle.

The woman with the sword gives a nod of approval and smiles warmly.

"Sorry about the circumstances."

She gives you a good hard look before standing again.

"Take a minute, catch your breath, you've had quite a shock. Take it nice and easy. I'm Prime Minister Marlo Reiner and you're in The Free Cities. That nice lady over there will explain everything to you and get you settled." A nod to the robed woman off to the side.

Marlo Reiner steps back and the robed mage approaches to help you up.

"Come with me, please." She brings you out of the cave through a corridor that angles upwards until you emerge in what looks like some kind of storage facility. Shelves of wooden boxes and cloth bags line them, unidentifiable parts of what might be machines are tucked into corners and propped against shelving units. "This is one of the Free Cities' outposts," the mage explains as she leads you. "We're honored to have you with us, I'm sure you have many questions but please save them. You need to recover!"

You'll learn you're in the Cadens Desert Outpost 003, a military outpost on the outskirts of Cadens city. You're brought to a room in the barracks that's been prepared. Each barracks room is rather sparse and utilitarian. Six simple beds set against the wall, three on each side of the room, each with a trunk at the foot of it. You're told the world is in a delicate and dangerous times and you're needed to help. You're important, you're told, and they're very grateful you're here.

You're asked to stay close for the time being, but to make yourself at home. The outpost is more a proper military base than the name implies, with full facilities. The barracks have a communal bathing room at the end of the hall, with curtains that can be pulled around the individual raised round tubs for privacy. There's a mess hall that has food available from sun up till a few hours after sundown. You're even encouraged to make use of the training grounds, if you'd like, with non-lethal training weapons available for use and obstacle courses set up. And the city of Cadens is only a couple of hours away by wagon - though you're asked initially to please be back at the outpost within a few hours of the sun going down.

For your own safety.

Scenario Three: Welcome to Solvunn

The feeling of floating is the first sense that comes to you as the edges of unconsciousness start to ebb. Sunlight filters through the rippling water as you open your eyes, making you squint. Before you have the chance to panic and inhale, firm hands grasp your arms and pull you to the surface of the water. Moments later, soft warmth is wrapped around your shoulders as you're guided on unsteady legs out of a pool of water. You're lowered to the soft grass. Men and women in simple garments with lavish embroidery stand by, waiting with bated breath, glancing seriously at an old man in an ornate robe. He holds an old leather-bound book in one hand and in the other is a card bearing an arcana symbol. His eyes move quickly over the page, and he mumbles idly to himself.

Any strength you may have possessed feels as though it has slipped through your fingers. Any abilities or magical powers you have don't come to the surface no matter how hard you try. You're in a grassy clearing in the midst of a circle of large stone slabs stacked to look like doorways. In the middle is the same glimmering pool you were just pulled from. A gentle breeze blows through, carrying the scent of flowers and herbs from an ornately decorated altar set off in front of one of the stone doorways. The mage closes his book and steps out of the water, addressing a matronly old woman. Behind her are two younger people, a rough-looking man, and a meek young girl, both of whom are also watching the mage.

“I detect no ill will from the gods, it seems we've been blessed with success.” Those that had gathered all breathe a sigh of relief and now seem pleased.

The old woman smiles and steps forward, offering to take your hands and help you stand. “Any gift the gods give us is one we will happily take. I'm certain you have many questions, and they will all be answered in time. For now, rest and know you will be taken care of.”

She pats the top of your hand and steps away with a serene smile, letting one of the others come forward with some clothes that seem to fit you perfectly. Once you're dressed, someone approaches to drape a delicate-looking charm depicting a butterfly with too many wings on a thin chain over your neck. The rough-looking man from before steps forward once you're decent and motions with his head outside of the stone circle. His speech is informal, his consonants harsh.

“Hold your horses, I can see all those questions coming about! Rowan March, at your service. I'm one of the council members of Solvunn. There's a lot to discuss, but it's best talked about over a hot meal.” He leads you to a horse-drawn carriage and helps you up into the back. He talks the entire ride to the settlement.

You find out you are in the Primary Settlement, the first of three that make up Solvunn's great territory. The settlement is situated between two lakes and is humming with life. You're brought to the center of town and escorted to an apartment above one of the establishments in town. Rowan explains that the living conditions are temporary if you'd like them to be, that local families would also be happy to host you in their home. That there are others like you who have also taken up residence within the three settlements. You're told that the world hangs upon the brink of disaster and that there are those in this world that are happy to see it fall to ruin with their meddling.

You're important. The gods have graced them with your presence. They're delighted you're here. Welcome to Solvunn.

Everything you need has been provided in this humble apartment, and if it hasn't, there are shops that line the streets and a marketplace in the center of town. Owners of some establishments or stalls are more than happy to give out samples or barter with your time for their goods. Babysitting can be a very lucrative business. You're told of the other settlements, that they'd like you to stay here for now, but if you can find a family to host you, the secondary and tertiary settlements are best to get to with an escort.

There are tales of travelers visiting the secondary settlement without invitation disappearing without a trace. The gods are as hungry as they are protective, young traveler.

You’ll find that there are more than enough activities to throw yourself into to better settle into your new life in Solvunn. Work is done in the first part of the day so that families can spend the rest of it together in leisure and work on their crafts - whatever those may be. For those children who are not of school age, they need nannies or storytellers, and there’s always a gaggle of them running about unsupervised. Families with livestock can always take a spare hand, especially since farms are so spread out, they have a tendency to wander. Whatever skills you may possess can always be of use to the community or to honor the gods.

If any of these options are no good for your lifestyle, the main roads between settlements can always use a bit of monster clean-up… just make sure you don’t go alone.

---

Questions

How many slots are open?
Please check the Taken page for how many player, franchise, and canon slots are available. Activity check will be processed before applications open, so the count may change between now and then. Existing players can apply for a second character without restriction.

How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Which faction your character is drawn into has nothing to do with their personal morality, beliefs, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into any one of the situations.

Can I try out more than one scenario?
You can! But please keep in mind that only the one you eventually choose can be game canon, if you decide to keep any of your TDM threads.

What happens if my character refuses to comply with the NPCs?
They will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and the faction leaders will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, they will be warned once that everyone is willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight they will make good on that promise.

My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the cities, murdering the NPCs, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other NPCs would be thrown back in the well (which will mean drowning in the void, not returning home). Brawling with other PCs and causing minor damage is fine and will be greeted with a cranky attitude and intervention from various NPC guards, and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Abraxans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.

I want to wildcard a prompt or use one of the prompts from an earlier TDM that isn't on this one (eg. the library), can I do that?
Yes, in terms of the settings. As Thorne is no longer imprisoning any newcomers, that option is no longer applicable.

Is the power loss for characters permanent?
No, but it does take a week or so for their powers to be back in full, and certain powers (determined on a case-by-case basis) may require nerfs. If your character has world-breaking powers, please discuss with the mods what modifications may be necessary.

Can my character leave the bounds of the faction?
In Thorne, characters can leave the castle but not the city. In Cadens, they can take a trip from the outpost to the city. In Solvunn, they can explore the entirety of the Primary Settlement.

Can my character eventually change factions?
Yes. While the faction borders are currently closed, there will opportunities in the future for characters to relocate. For the time being, they are stuck where they are.

How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will determine where your character initially lives as well as the bias of the information they receive from NPCs (although other PCs can and most likely will give it to them a bit more straight). This decision - and every other major decision you make in game! - will also be used to flavor some mod surprises that will be coming down the line.

Don't get too anxious about this choice, though; this is just one choice you'll get to make in a game that has a lot of them, and every character in every scenario can work their way towards many, many individual goals and outcomes. You're not locking yourself out of anything in the future via the choice you made on the TDM. It will primarily impact the immediate future with the far-reaching effects being up to each player.

Are TDM threads mandatory for my application?
No, you may use other samples, but we encourage you to post to the TDM and get a feel for this game and its mechanics before you join. If you do not have a TDM thread you will still need to choose one of the three scenarios on your application.

What if I haven't settled on a sign yet?
You can ignore sign-related prompts if you're undecided (or try out different signs in different threads).

Can my character go to the Horizon?
First time visitors to the Horizon must be taken there by other characters, through either shared meditation or a physical journey to the Singularity, and all first-timers experience memory loss. For the purposes of the TDM, we suggest against using the Horizon.

What about making use of the network?
Much like Horizon they would need to be introduced to it by another PC, as no NPCs would be aware of the network or be able to access it. Because of this we would advise against using this mechanic for TDM top-levels.

---

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Comments

[thedevilwhorose]

[Lucifer will give his Father credit where it's due: creating an infinitely beautiful landscape isn't easy. Lucifer's time in the Horizon has churned out little more than a tiny picnic-sized hill. The grass may be green but the frustrating feature that he can't seem to get rid of is the occasional streak of irregular lightning.

Bad enough his vessel has engravings of the Cage written through it, now pieces of Limbo mockingly follow him.

Another joke, really. Pile them on, Dad! He'll make use of this world one way or another, and then who will be laughing it up?

He's not giving up, he just needs a breather. Inspiration, right? It's what gets him wandering. It's not like he's homesick. He'd have to actually like the planet to be homesick, but the spark of familiarity is what unconsciously draws his attention, and that will, ultimately, be something he regrets.

He doesn't thump in quietly. Lucifer's nature has never been quiet.

(He'll regret that, too.)

This? This is no longer funny. He doesn't deserve this! Though he was marked as Devil for all to see--the symbol always affixed above his right collarbone of whatever he's wearing (his clothing in the Horizon being the same as his appearance in the Cage, by accident, and maybe he shouldn't be surprised by the lightning after all)--no one knew him. Not really.

They may know of him, he's got enough of a reputation cross-worlds and all, but they're not of his world. It was the only thing he had going for him.

The absolute last thing he needed was to come across a Winchester. Worse, he can't just bolt. Running gives off the appearance of fear. Fear reveals the reality that he's not completely invulnerable. Unkillable, maybe. Probably. Hopefully. But he doesn't need anymore setbacks.

And boy, the last time he saw the Winchester, Lucifer murdered his precious pet angel and dragged his mother with him to Apocalypse World. So. That comes with some flaws.

It's fine. He's fine. It's all about putting on a show. Just like Dad.

He strides in like he meant to, like he didn't freeze up seconds in the doorway, like he controls enough of a commanding presence.

Like there's not a gaping hole in his grace.

Still, he keeps to the perimeter. Thinks he has enough in him for a skip of a flight out the building if he has no choice.

This is what his life has been made into. Thanks so much, bro.]

Why am I not surprised this is where you're spending your time puttering away? [He runs a finger along the backs of chairs as he walks, not looking at Dean, but keeping aware of him.] I suppose Sam's your breadwinner? [A guess only. He's fishing for information. Needs to know who else he has to keep his eyes out for.]

[righteously]

( Something Lucifer may or may not begin to pick up on — this particular Winchester isn't quite as worn down as the one he saw last. He's missing five or so years, give or take, in the lines around his eyes and the hardness in his expression.

Also lacking: the level of recognition he should probably have when he looks up and processes who he's looking at. Just a little too wide-eyed, just a little too taken aback. One second too long before he does what he does and bounces back, closes off, tenses up.

You gotta be god damn kidding him.

There's no friggin' way. Yanking him and Cas out of Purgatory is one thing, but reaching down into the cage? It puts a tilt on just exactly how powerful he thought the magic here was. Cranks it to eleven.

For a second, he very nearly goes to reach under the counter for something — angel blade, shotgun — just to remember where they are. What this place is. Who's domain they're in. Slowly, deliberately, he sets his palm back down on the counter top. Rises silently to his feet.

And visibly bristles at the mention of Sam — probably tips his hand a little that there's something going on there. A more sensitive button than just who the breadwinner is.

Obviously he's not gonna answer that question. Instead, he nods his head in Lucifer's direction — specifically, at the sign above his collarbone. )

Little on the nose, don't you think?

( Dean's own is stitched onto the breast pocket of his plaid flannel, could easily be passed off as the symbol of the shirt brand if you didn't know any better. Surprising probably no one: The Lovers. )

[thedevilwhorose]

[That's--

That's not right. That's not how the script should go. It's odd enough that Lucifer does look his way and squints. And he does see it the closer he looks, just that bit of difference.

It's easy, frankly, to notice considering he was expecting snarling wrath and immediate violence.

While it works in his favor, it offers a different level of concern. Possibilities he'd rather not consider.

But oh. At least there's wounds there. How many cracks do you have, Winchester?

Heh.

He spreads his arms and does a small spin before continuing his walk. He's already spent enough time laughing hysterically over his arcana. He is not giving Dean that pleasure.] It's a delight to know that I'm known across other worlds. Really makes a guy feel good. [Bullshit.]

[righteously]

( No kidding, pal. Dean Winchester's never been one to follow a script. Why start now?

He tracks Lucifer's movements steadily, expression gone stormy. Movements deliberately slow, he reaches down to pick up a small glass. Sets it on the counter. Pulls out a bottle of whiskey, and drops his eyes to pour it, just for two or three seconds. The tension weighs more than the bottle.

That done, he thunks the bottle gently back down on the counter and picks up his glass in its place.

About half a mile south of this bar is a section of woods that turn grey and washed out. Purgatory thrives here in the Horizon, if only for a tiny patch of forest. A little bit of Dean is still there, a touch feral, craving the simplicity that comes with it. There, you don't think. You just kill.

Wouldn't that be nice right about now? )

Congrats. You should put it in a blog.

( Not his best, but it's thrown out absently as he brings the glass to his lips. Can't let himself loose, might as well drink about it.

He sets the glass back down onto the counter with a little too much force, and skips straight through the bullshit. )

How the hell are you here? There's no god damn way off-brand Dumbledore's Army had the juice to open up the cage.

( They don't even have the right equipment for it. )

[thedevilwhorose]

I should, shouldn't I! [Ever one to poke a bear, Lucifer finally stops his pacing of the room and uses a foot to swing out a chair from a table before sprawling down into it like he owns the damn place, grinning cheekily.

And then Dean continues to talk and Lucifer's face makes the barest break in his carefully-crafted carefree guise.

Because--what? The Cage? Dean thinks he's been popped from the Cage? Look, he knew the Winchester wasn't "recent" in his timeframe to Lucifer, but that was... wow. That's a bit... more than he was expecting.

He swallows down his soured expression and tries to think quickly how much he wants to play into this because his current back-up defense was raving about his asshole of a brother and he's not quite sure that will carry any weight if Dean Winchester hasn't even interacted with God.]

I'd like to know that trick myself. [He's pushing too heavily into a lulled voice. If it wasn't clear before that Dean scored some point on Lucifer, it is now. He laughs, a bit high, but pushing for a kill to make up for his slip.] I mean, I've been trying to smash that beehive all on my own for lifetimes! It's not like I had the "Righteous Man" available to shatter a seal a second time. [He leans forward, both feet flat on the floor, hands laced together, eyes with only the faintest gleam of red. He draws his lips back to reveal teeth.] I'm sure you don't fit in line with that these days.

[righteously]

( Dean, for as much as he convinces himself and others of it, isn't a stupid guy. Angry, temperamental, but he knows how to throw a leash around that and reel it in when he needs to. Now, for instance, when it would be easy as hell to flip a table, figure out how to eject someone from his domain, manifest an angel blade, whatever, he doesn't.

He needs intel, which means what he needs to do, much to his eternal Everest-sized frustration, is get Lucifer to talk.

Not that that's ever been hard. Son of a bitch just loves the sound of his own voice.

Loves digging in those little barbs, too, doesn't he? Not all of them stick, but some do, and those make it real damn hard to keep with the let him talk plan. His mouth twitches at that second time bit. The muscle by his jaw thumps unhappily.

He walls it off. )

So which faction am I writing my strongly worded complaint letter to? Or did you burn it to the ground already?

[thedevilwhorose]

[One of Lucifer's greatest flaws is definitely how much he does love to talk. But come on, who could blame him, especially in this instance? How often do you get a Winchester as a captive audience? So much stabbing and shooting, blah blah blah, what a bore.

Besides. Dean's not the only one mining for information.

He makes a quiet, satisfied hum at the twitch (good, a successful deflection from his own slip), and resumes slouching back. He throws an arm over the back of the chair, taps fingers idly, and the occasional, out of place scratch of a nail against the surface.]

Why burn it all to the ground? [Yet.] There's a beauty of its own to this place. Possibility and potential, unrealized, under the surface. Something waiting to happen. [Another nail scratch.

There's still been an underlying concern in his head that the grand scope of this world isn't his Father's creation and that--he's come to terms with multiple worlds maybe a bit better than Big Bro but--but the idea of something other out there is far too jarring for even Lucifer to comprehend.

And yet. That makes the fabric of this planet so much more interesting. Why there continues to be a flock of bumbling humans though... eugh.

(He very notably did not mention his faction. Huh. Weird. Try again.)]

[righteously]

( Damn it. Figures it wouldn't be that easy — he's not shocked, but it was worth a shot.

He rolls his eyes at the pleasant mini-monologue, uses it to mask the deep, uncomfortable pang of familiarity that churns low in his stomach.

This is supposed to be over. This whole arc was supposed to have ended when they shoved this jack back into his box. )

How about we cut the crap here and get down to brass tax, huh?

( He edges slowly around the bar, careful meandering steps until he's in front of it. )

You're not full power. ( That's a total bluff, a shot in the dark — based on the fact that Cas came through without his full mojo. He's got no way to know if that applies to archangels too, but he figures he'll be able to tell by the reaction one way or another whether it's true. ) You don't know how magic here works. Which means you're not as invincible as you're used to. Consider this the part where I warn you about staying in your lane and playing nice.

[thedevilwhorose]

[He can't know. There is no way that Dean can know just how wrecked Lucifer's being is--though his vessel, thanks a lot Crowley, is still holding so very strong.

But calling attention to it when Lucifer has no way to back up his words does nothing good for him.

And Dean does, unfortunately, raise a good point. He has absolutely no idea how magic works here.

So fine. Is that where they're at? Drawing childish lines in the sand to denote who is one what side of the planet? Don't cross the line?

He smirks, brief, quick, and then in a blink he's a skipped a flight across the floor and rudely takes the spot behind the bar that Dean vacated. ... And then he picks up the bottle left behind on the counter and takes a deep pull from it and does not relinquish his hold of it. It's a risk, all of it, but hey, what can he say? He can't just let Dean be comfortable in his own domain.]

Why, Dean. [His voice is chiding. Light. If Dean tries to grab the bottle from him he'll flit just out of reach. There's so much he could call attention to. So much that he could drive a fine knife between Dean's ribs with simply words. But it's all too revealing. He fakes a giggle.] You want me to--oh--keep the peace, as it were?

[righteously]

( Drawing childish lines in the sand is exactly where they're at, and it doesn't occur to him that it might be a little bit Michael-ish of him. At this point, that threat is the most he's got. Traveling between the factions is unbelievably difficult, especially on horseback — if Lucifer even is in a different faction. It'd be a real double-edged sword if he were in Cadens; too close for comfort, but at least Dean would be able to scope him out. Keep an eye on any trouble he's causing. Possibly do something about it.

There's no internet here. No twitter, no newspaper, no insight, no way to know if Lucifer's rolling pleasantly along or if he's started a low-key murder-slash-cult-recruitment spree.

It sucks balls.

Things that also suck balls: the son of a bitch popping up behind him at his bar, drinking his booze. He can't do much about that without turning this into a full-blown metaphysical brawl.

But he's still petty, and he still has control over his own domain. The contents of the bottle slowly, silently change to something way, way less appealing.

It's pee, it's totally pee, he's a child. )

No, I don't want you to. ( Small confident correction: ) You're going to.

[thedevilwhorose]

[Lucifer just... pushes the bottle away from him. Touche. It's not like it tasted great beforehand, anyway! But fine, ruin his "immersion" and his newly kicking non-hyperfocused tastebuds and all that.

The air temperature surrounding Lucifer plummets and frost climbs over the bottle. All of Lucifer's easygoing behavior drops away in an instant and it's a deadly gaze that turns sharply to Dean.

He laughs, once--closer to a scoff than anything. There's nothing lighthearted remaining to his voice.] Oh, is that so? [He hums, long, drawn-out.] Then tell me, Dean, what tiny corner of the world are you hunkered down in? I promise I will stay far, far out of your way. [Personally, of course. If he pushes Thorne to war, well, he'd never be the one on the front lines--that's for the little people.]

[righteously]

( Dean's a brave man. He's seen a lot of horrifying stuff, he's lost count with the number of angels he's tangled with, he's gotten frisky with Death (admittedly, that guy still scares the crap out of him). He's gotten a little desensitized, a little hard to flap.

Despite that, it's his pure animal survival instinct that can't help but feel a brush of intimidation when the air around Lucifer goes as cold as his disposition. It's that same chill someone gets when they're standing at the top of a cliff looking down at the fall below — whether or not there are guardrails doesn't mean a damn thing to your subconscious.

Lucifer has the kind of vibe that makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up, and Dean's not immune to that prickling sensation either.

He muscles it down, though it takes a little more effort than it would with just about anyone or anything else. Hauls up his bravado, and uses it to force a small, humorless, sideways smile onto his face. )

I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

( As in, you first. )

[thedevilwhorose]

[Lucifer cocks his head to the side just a fraction, almost a birdlike movement. He watches Dean for a beat too long, considering, considering. It hardly costs him anything to answer, not really. He thinks he still has the upper hand even weakened as he is. All those years of knowledge at his disposal, though he doesn't know how many. And if getting a location out of the Winchester is so trying, he will likely never get that year from Dean.

His lips twitch. It doesn't nothing to ease his appearance.

Dean's like Crowley in a way. Always finding a way to be defiant until the bitter end. There's a satisfaction to that.]

Thorne.

[righteously]

( Thorne. Could he be lying? Absolutely. For some reason, Dean doesn't think he is — Lucifer's always taken a certain vindictive joy out of honesty. It's almost like he gets off on the prospect of throwing down the truth knowing that even with that boost, Dean can't do jack. Jumping Sam's bones in Detroit. Giving him exact names, or years, or plans, or whatever, offered freely because he knows it doesn't make a difference. Some bullshit gigantic moon-sized ego thing.

Dean believes him.

He's also not an idiot. He totally doesn't have that same confidence, he needs every scrap and spare inch of advantage he can get just to keep up with the son of a bitch.

So. )

Awesome. Good talk.

( And then he gets to do the most satisfying thing he's done in forever: he gets to be the one that abruptly flaps out of the conversation like a dick with wings, disappearing from the Horizon without following through.

The difference between him and Crowley? He's not a demon. Deals aren't handcuffs. Screw that noise. Adios, douchebag.

Hopefully that one doesn't come back to bite him later. )

[thedevilwhorose]

[Lucifer bows his head, smirk growing. He wishes he could say he was taken aback, but it gives him the smallest of thrills. Ever the surprising one, aren't you? Well, parting shots and all that. Dean can have his moment of victory, but.

But.

Lucifer finds something to use to carve into the bar's surface. Not too large, but enough that it'll be noticeable for what it is and what it means.

A devil's fork.

Haven't you heard, Dean? The devil never sleeps. Better keep an eye out, after all, how can he go by playground rules if he doesn't know where Dean's at, hm?

Satisfied, he walks out.]