TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[abraxasmods]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to the very first 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 two 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 here. For general game questions please still use the FAQ.

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.

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 baring 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.

"I beg your pardon," he says, so absorbed in the pages of the book that he doesn't bother to look up, "I am Ambrose Rhett, the High Mage of the Kingdom of Thorne. One of my apprentices will explain everything in a moment, but please refrain from yelling and thrashing about until then. You're quite alright, and screaming gives me a hell of a headache."

Regardless of your response, he keeps flipping through the heavy tome, until he stops on one specific page, stares at it for a moment, and then exclaims:

"Aha!"

Scenario One: Welcome to Thorne

Ambrose's expression brightens, eyes twinkling with delight. 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.

"Success! It's a success!" he exclaims, slamming the book shut and scurrying towards you.

Now that he's not hunching over the book, he doesn't seem quite so stuffy and inapproachable. The apprentices all seem quite relieved at his jovial outburst, 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, you're an honored guest here," 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 (everyone appears to have arrived within the last few days), or you can wander around and meet the others.

There's also a dining hall stocked with all sorts of fancy food to meet every possible dietary need, and a library filled with epic tales and legends and the history of Thorne. Given that this is the Thorne library, it may be a biased account that makes the Kingdom look a fair bit better than the rest of the world sees them. Last but not least, there's a study hall where a few junior mages (younger and less experienced than the apprentices from earlier) might be willing to teach you some simple elemental magic. Think holding a small flame in the palm of your hand, or blowing a door shut with a gust of wind.

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 spending too much time with the prisoners will lead to some suspicion being cast upon you. If you ask anyone why the prisoners are being held there, you'll be told that they pose a great threat to the Kingdom (and, by extension, the entire world).

Scenario Two: Imprisoned

The High Mage scowls, grinding his teeth as he slams the book shut. "Another failure!" he barks at the apprentices, "You lot wouldn't know your ass from a hole in the ground, would you?"

All four of them lower their heads, and two of them mumble an apology that Ambrose either doesn't hear or refuses to acknowledge. "Well, don't just stand there," he says, waving a hand in the air, "We've put all this effort into getting this wretched creature, we may as well put it to good use."

One of the apprentices drops a baggy, rough-feeling tunic, a pair of pants, and some worn sandals in your lap and glares down at you until you put them on (if you refuse, they'll tell you they can kick you back down that well if you don't want to cooperate). They're glaring at the High Mage as much as they're glaring at you (when they're sure he isn't looking, anyway). You might catch one of them long enough to ask them why they're so upset with you, but all they'll say is that the High Mage knows something they don't, and he's awfully upset about it.

Once you're fully clothed, another apprentice clamps some heavy iron shackles around your wrists and leads you on. The High Mage is far ahead of you already, muttering some long string of Thornean curses before he stands up straight and pauses, spinning to face you.

"One more thing," he says, holding one hand in the air and chanting something under his breath, "Can't have you getting too troublesome."

If you had powers, the slight connection you still had to them slips away completely and you're left with nothing as the four apprentices drag you towards the castle. They may answer a few of your questions (with some insults and curses peppered in), but they won't tell you anything important.

Once you arrive at the castle you're brought to the dungeons and thrown into a locked cell. There are four people to a cell, and two sets of bunk beds with a thin and lumpy straw mattress. If you're over six feet tall, these beds are going to be awfully uncomfortable. You might as well meet your roommates. Once per day you're dragged out to an enclosed courtyard for one hour of recreation (with some crude weights, benches, and balls lying around but not much else), where you can meet the rest of the prisoners, but you can also talk to your immediate neighbors in the cells on either side and across the hallway. Just don't yell too much or the guards will snap at you to be quiet.

Everyone in the dungeon is fed one meal a day, and for a prison meal it's decent: a bit of meat, a bun, and a salad. It would seem that the Thornean chefs take too much pride in their craft to send bad food to the dungeons. The meals are all served in equal portions, though, so the smaller prisoners may be overfed and the larger ones may be getting hungry. Feel free to fight for food or share with your cellmates.

Crudely embroidered on the back of every prison tunic is the same image that was on your card and the name of the sign beneath it. A guard may explain a bit about the sign, and tell you some negative stereotypes they hold about yours.

You may be blessed with a visit from one of the more welcomed newcomers, and they may sneak you some extra food or a small book to read or they may share some of the information they've gathered. However, rumors travel fast and some people believe the honored guests in the castle above are somehow responsible for the lot of the prisoners below. And although you may hope for kindness, there's nothing stopping them from being cruel to you if they wish. The guards will certainly turn a blind eye if one of them wishes to take out their frustrations on you.

---

Questions

How do I choose a scenario for my character?
Pick whichever situation appeals to you most. Whether your character is honored or imprisoned has nothing to do with their personal morality, or how highly they regard themselves and their own accomplishments. Anyone can be put into either situation.

Can I try out both scenarios?
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 Ambrose?
Prisoners will be dragged against their will. Honored guests will be forgiven for their moment of panic or anger if they have one, and Ambrose and the apprentice mages will try to calm them and persuade them further. If they put up too much of a fight and/or start actively attacking anyone, Ambrose will warn them once that he's willing to put them back in the well where they came from (see below), and if they continue to fight he will make good on that promise.

My character intends on causing a lot of trouble (destroying parts of the castle, murdering the castle staff, etc.), what would happen to them?
Characters who make too much trouble for the mages and other staff 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 (if they are an honored guest) or a punishment like denial of food or temporary solitary confinement (if they are a prisoner), and there will be plenty of opportunity for destruction and murder later, but for now the Thorneans have no desire to keep huge liabilities around.

Ambrose will take it especially personally, as this experiment was his idea and too much trouble would risk the summoning spell being scrapped and potentially result in him being demoted. Rest assured it does not take much for him to throw someone back in the well at this point in time.

Is the power loss for the prisoners permanent?
No, although honored guests will regain their powers first due to the lack of interference from Ambrose, the prisoners will be able to regain theirs soon enough as well.

Can the prisoners talk about anything private, or will they be overheard at all times?
There are guards patrolling the dungeon, but they aren't always within earshot. Most of the attention is being focused on the new guests, so the prisoners will have some opportunities for privacy.

Can my character leave the castle?
For now they will be prevented from leaving the castle, even if they are an honored guest. A bit of a gilded cage, isn't it? They'll also find that any powers they regain cease to work outside of the castle walls (this is also a temporary effect) so flying outside is not an option.

Can my character eventually side against Thorne if I choose to make them an honored guest/can they side with Thorne if I choose to imprison them?
Yes, characters in Scenario 1 will be able to betray Thorne, and characters in Scenario 2 can work themselves into Thorne's good graces.

How much will my choice of scenario affect my character's plot later on?
This choice will have a major impact on gameplay throughout the first few months of the game, and potentially a bit beyond that depending on where our players guide the plot. 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 both scenarios 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 two 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 a put a character on the TDM if their canon is less than 30 days old?
Yes. For this app round, anything that's at least 30 days old when the game opens on June 12th can be applied from.

Do the apprentice mages have names?
Their names are Jeffrey, Grigory, Noelle, and Jolene.

---

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Comments

Kirigan (The Darkling) // Shadow and Bone. (Sign; the Hanged Man)

[cruelyethuman]

I. Imprisoned // how it grates

There are few words spoken directly to him, before they drag him down to the dungeon and throw him in to a dank and dirty cell. The Darkling would have protested, would have tried every trick he's picked up at court and through the endless years watching the Ravkan politicians at work, except-- his Small Science was gone.

It wasn't dulled. It wasn't just out of reach, but gone. The first thing he had done, waking up and watching the unfamiliar faces, was to slap his hands together, calling the Shadows and watching with dismay as nothing happens.

They dump him on the floor of his cell, and the Darkling picks himself up, shoulders squared and head held high.

"This is a mistake."

II. Cellmates// there are no friends in the endless

The bunk is too short, the madras too hard and everything about this place brings back uncomfortable memories. Of a time too far in to the past to even think about, but they are always there. Right at the edge of his mind, circling like volcras for weakness. The Darkling gives them none, and continues to follow the rules.

For now.

He eats when told to, and he stops asking questions from the guards when they beat him down for the second time and he goes outside when they get dragged, in a progression of shuffling feet and ragged clothes, in to the sun.

Today, the Darkling gets up, sliding his legs down to touch the floor before he leans back against the cold stonewall. "This is getting tedious."

III. Food // how we suffer

There is never enough. Not enough light, not enough sun and not enough food. There's nothing to do, but stew in this wretched cell, staring at the same patch of stonewall and the same unfamiliar faces.

When the food comes, he saves half of it. Every time. A lesson born from long ago, when food was not a certainty. Everything to survive, but when he sees someone look at their empty plate, he pulls out half a loaf of bread, holding it out without comment.

Take it, or leave it.

IV. Wildcard

[Anything goes! Hit me up on ireth or PM me for plots if you want.]

[NOTE -- The Darkling lies. A lot. This is not always mentioned in meta-text, but if you really need to know if he's lying to your character, please just ask]

— imprisoned.

[webshoots]

Peter's spent some time mentally working through the potential whats, the whys, and his favourite: the whos, and he's come up short. This isn't, like, necessarily weird for him — or, more to the point, it's not unheard of. The whole naked-in-the-void thing was painfully familiar, as well as the distant light being not so distant thing, and up until the point he realised — a little belatedly, but the whole experience was slightly traumatic — that he'd emerged (been rebirthed? Who knows) from a fountain, his thought process has consisted, more or less, of one word:

Doc?

(Because the last time he'd been through something like this, it was all Doc Strange's fault.

Okay, no, that's a lie. It was his fault, but the good magical doctor facilitated.)

He may have even croaked the word even whilst he was called a failure, or wretched creature, or something. It was all slightly unclear, and he might have tried to interject a few something-somethings about how he'd be happy to go back the way he came, something-misunderstanding-something, all he'd wanted was a bagel—.

That is to say: he hasn't got very far with the who-what-whys. Magic isn't really his thing, and yet it seems to happen to him a lot, which is frankly very unfair.

"That's what I said", he says, when his new (first) cellmate is thrown into the cell in much the same way as Peter had been. He shifts his weight and sits up a little straighter, the movement serving as a brief pause before he continues. "But I think the word got a little lost in translation."

[cruelyethuman]

Without turning away from the bars, the Darkling takes a deep breath. This is unacceptable. This is treason and once he figures out how to gain the Shadows back, they will all regret the hasty decision to throw him in here.

None of the men behind the bars had looked Drüskelle, and the accent hadn't been Fjorda. Foreign, with softer lilts to their vowels.

He has many enemies. They could be anyone, and he turns slowly, pulling his shoulders back and holding his head high.

"Not everyone is willing to listen," distracted, but he slides his dark eyes over the man on the cot. "They didn't tell you anything?"

[webshoots]

Peter's first impression is that his new friend is less than happy. Less than thrilled. Not exactly fond of their circumstances, and whilst Peter can't exactly blame him, there's a certain tautness to the way that he holds himself that Peter takes note of and files away under 'proceed with caution, question mark'.

Or maybe, Peter thinks, he's just tired and on edge — the lack of his spider-sense, though not the first time, though not unusual, is enough for concern to sit in the form of a tight ball in the pit of his stomach; and the lack of familiar faces simply compounds the fact.

So he shrugs. It's a tight shoulder lift, punctuated by a quick quirk of his lips as if to say 'whaddya know' and he elaborates with a—

"Nothing useful." A beat. A breath. "I didn't need to be told this isn't New York, y'know? And all I asked was if Glinda knew I was here."

[cruelyethuman]

The Darkling takes note of it all, the hard edge to the man's voice and (again) an unfamiliar accent. But they understand each other, it's still Ravkan words with a different, harder, tone. Closer to the Southern Colonies than anything else, but they had no New York there. He inclines his head, "I'm Kirigan. And this is obviously some kind of rebel uprising, another way to overthrow the throne and dispose of the Tsar."

And he doesn't look away from the man's face while saying this, noting his reaction. It's an old trick in interrogation; leave a friend in the pit with your prisoner and wait for them to expose the information you need. People respond to friendliness and the Darkling quirks his lips in to a smile. "Which you obviously wasn't a part of, since you're locked in here with me."

Food

[gardienne]

Eponine waits until the Darkling is asleep, or seems to be, before she makes her move. Her bare feet silent, she finds her way in the dark to his hiding place, to the food that she so desperately wants. Practised as she is at wandering in the gloom, it's not difficult for her to find. She slips her fingers into the hiding place to take what she can.
It might not be fair. He's already offered her some, but his generosity has marked him. He's a target now, and Eponine's empty stomach overrules the voice in her head that tells her she's wrong. It's not like prison is a threat when she is already locked up. She takes the man's left overs, bringing the crust of bread to her nose to inhale. She begins to lick it, savouring the taste. A quick glance back to where the Darkling lies though, stops her. Is he awake?

[cruelyethuman]

He doesn't sleep much; the natural consequence of being targeted for assassination every few decades. When he sleeps, it is still plagued by nightmares. Nothing so sweet as regrets revisited, but the usual, human ones. Falling, drowning, burning at the stake. Running, rushing through the dense forest in Ravka and getting lost in the Fjerdan ice.

Being here, he sleeps even less. Using the darkness to remind himself of who and what he is - of what he's lost coming here and all the ways he's going to make sure he is going to get it back. So, he sees. Watching her through half-lidded eyes as she sneaks across the cold floor, kneeling at the end of his cot to get at the small stash of food.

He watches her face, the best he can through the darkness, as she eats.

"All you had to do was ask."

The Darkling keeps his voice low, a near-whisper from the thick shadows of his bed. He carefully keeps anger out of his voice, pitching it kind and caring. His black eyes glitter in the flicker of the torches, "You don't have to steal from me, to get what you want."

[gardienne]

Eponine freezes the moment his whisper sounds out. There's no point denying it: he has caught her red handed. So she bites quickly into the bread. If she is going to be beaten for her transgressions, she may as well have a full stomach to face it with.

"Generosity comes with a price, Sir," she whispers back, hoarsely. "Nothing is free, is it? What would you have charged me for your bread? Not a sous, perhaps, but my promise, or my word. Or you might have saved it until you need me. I don't have nowt to give, and I am hungry."

She pauses. "You might have half if you like? A midnight feast amongst the rats in the dungeon."

[cruelyethuman]

Without being even remotely hungry, the Darkling slides out of his bed to join her on the floor. His rags a poor insulation from the cold, but enduring is a honed craft. As is patience.

"You're right; nothing is ever truly free. But I would never force you," not a complete lie, as he takes the scrap of food she's offering. "I'm Kirigan. I would be delighted to dine with you, miss-?"

Low, inviting voice, the voice you use with friends in the dark. With kin. "I've been called worse than a rat."

II

[nexubait]

He is too tall for the bed. She'd noticed this the first night he'd been hauled into the cell they were evidently meant to share, this small pack of hostages. Hostages, or only prisoners? It doesn't seem that their numbers are diminishing; no one is being dragged away to a torture for all the rest to overhear, never to return. They are being fed, clothed, allowed an hour of sun each day.

But where does one day end and the next begin? To what end? The dark figure with whom she shares this dank square is obedient, at least enough not to draw any wary attention, and he eats, making no protest in that regard. She is not sure what to make of him.

Another morning comes, beginning as black as all the others, and she turns her head to glance at him from where she herself has already risen, lingering near the bars.

"I would rather have it be unpredictable than tedious. At least then we'd know they meant to do something with us. Right now it's like we're little more than plants in a garden, fed and watered until we wither and die. Or trapped in a Senate hearing."

[cruelyethuman]

The Darkling coughs on a dry laugh, because she's not wrong. This is almost exactly as dull and boring as listening to Senate hearings. Forced to endure the endless, pompous politicians who were too in love with the sound of their own voice, to even contemplate listening to anyone else.

And like the recent meetings at court this too, seems to have the undercurrent of malice. Of danger not yet seen, but felt in the careless disregard for them. For all of them, trapped here in the dungeon.

"Yes, I think you're right," his face smooths in to a small smile, and gets up. Stretching his back, he paces the floor in slow circles to get the feeling back in to his legs. "Know a lot about senate hearing, do you?"

[nexubait]

The benefit of this cell is that, unlike inside the Senate chambers, there is room to pace. Expending restless energy is a fleeting relief, and she has found that their allotted hour in the sun only deepens her longing for what lies beyond. What does lie beyond? Forest, mountain, meadow? Her thoughts tend toward the verdant memories of her own home, but anything would do. In the darkness, there is some small mercy in that it is far more difficult to dream.

"I'd thought a life devoted to politics would leave me particularly equipped for situations such as this, but it would seem that the nuances of democracy have eluded our captors." Otherwise, she would have been given the chance to defend her innocence, wouldn't she? They would have, if nothing else, been within their rights to demand an explanation. She turns to better regard her cellmate, taking some solace in laughter even if it is dry, in a smile, no matter how small.

"You strike me as one who is familiar with the problematic nature of diplomacy."

*senate hearing-s-! I swear, I can do words

[cruelyethuman]

The Darkling takes her in, the tilt of her head, how she thinks before speaking and how she sits straight up on the cot, never leaning down or slouching in her seat. And he smiles, it's warm and friendly.

"I might have been to a few meetings, but I have never tried my hand at politics. Too many words and empty promises for me." Diplomacy was another word for failure, for compromise when none could be had. But he keeps smiling softly, stopping a step away.

"I'm Kirigan, and while I'm not a diplomat, I was in the army. It's a pleasure to met you."

III (tv series spoilers in tag)

[gunbunny]

[[just warning anyone else that may take a peak]]

Jesper will take the offered food, one hundred percent. Does he know who the Darkling is? Yes. Did the Darkling's gang recently try to kill him and all he held dear? Also yes. Did he then help kill that same Darkling? Clearly. But Jesper's a man accustomed to ever changing situations and temporary alliances, and there's not much point to holding grudges here and now. They'd all come in the same way, naked and helpless as tragically good looking babes. No poison or powers could curse the bread he accepted. Next month or year when the Darkling was trying to murder the continent again he could reassess their relationship, but now? He was hungry and not fantastic at impulse control when it came to life in general, and particularly not with painfully pretty men.

So he reaches his had through the bars separating their cells and accepted the gift.

"Never took you for the sharing type."

[cruelyethuman]

"You know me," it's a question crunched as a statement. The best way to cover up his blink of confusion as the Darkling focuses more intently on the man on the other side of the bars. "You'll find that I can be very generous and, I'm sad to say that you have me at a disadvantage. You know me, but I don't even know your name."

Cocking his head, he finds and holds Jesper's gaze. "I take it that you know mine."

[gunbunny]

He'd assumed this had been a whole 'brought back frim the brink of death by magical powers' type situation- the world was full of those. But possibly not? Or, possibly, he was just too lowly for a man like the general to recall, even if he had been involved in that last desperate fight. That latter one was more comforting than thinking of possible differences in time as well as space, and Jesper decided to just go with that...and to not try to spark any memory that might inspire vengeance, just in case. This world was full of enough people against him as it was.

But, my, he had dark, dark eyes. Jesper holds the gaze without reflecting on just how much emotion tended to show on his own face. His surprise at not being recognized, and that the next bit is clearly omitting certain truths, is easy to read there.

"Who doesn't know the most famous Grisha in the world? Ah," he tilted his head slightly, amending the statement, "Our world. Seems we're all the same in these parts. The great general and the poor gambler Jesper."

[chaos_and_curls]

The Doctor is in a corner of the cell, having procured small stones or bits of brick from the wall and is trying to flick them at others in a small rough circle picked out with bits of straw.

"Mm. I'll say. The choice in outerwear is horrendous."

He looks up at the man. "Can I interest you in a game of tiddlywinks?"

[cruelyethuman]

Time moves slow as molasses in the cells. The only bright spot on any day, is the walk outside, and even that is for barely an hour. This will feel like a blink, the Darkling reminds himself, a blink unless they intend to keep the prisoners for decades. This is nothing, but the monotonous boredom creeps in through the cracks.

He sits down next to the straw, watching with dark eyes as the stranger tries to make... fire? "I'm afraid that I don't know that game. And I have no deck of cards with me."

A joke. No one seems to bring anything but rags and their own skin.

[chaos_and_curls]

Well does he know it. Prison becomes so old after a while.

"The joy is you don't need cards. Just rocks and skill. The point is trying to knock some of the rocks out the circle." He tosses one and it barely nudges one against the straw. "Well, it's more like marbles than anything."

A sigh.

"I suppose they fished you out of the well like some fat naked trout too, hm?"

cellmates

[fragileprophet]

Ion's been a pleasant cellmate. He never complains, makes friendly conversation when appropriate, and always offers to share everything he's given. The boy is small of frame, somewhat short for his apparent age, and insists he doesn't need nearly as much as what he's being provided.

As the days go on, though, it's more and more obvious that he's not as unaffected as he's letting on. The boy's developed a bit of a shiver, sometimes hiding a cough into the crook of his elbow. His concentration wanders, rings darkening around his eyes. Still, when Kirigan speaks, he looks up from where he sits with his head resting against his knees.

"Tedious?" He laughs weakly. "That's an interesting word choice."

[cruelyethuman]

Of course he sees, noticing the dark circles under the child's eyes, the weak cough and how the child tries to huddle up to keep warm in the ever-damp and cooling dungeon. He sees and dismisses it, content to go about the days, dragging himself through each one as he reaches out to anyone who seems even the least bit useful.

When the child answers, he turns his head slowly towards him and raises an eyebrow, "It's the truth."

There's no slow torture, there's no pain and no hell except for the ones they were willing to build for themselves in the dark. The Darkling shakes his head, "What word would you choose for this?"

[fragileprophet]

What word would he choose? He sits up straighter, resting his head back against the cold wall. It's a good question. Not tedious, but not anything particularly more aggressive, either.

Folding his hands in front of him, Ion chooses his word after careful deliberation.

"I think I'd call it insidious." He gives a sheepish smile and a slight nod. "Though I'd guess I'd be more likely to call it tedious, myself, if I had something more pressing on my agenda."

Though they haven't really spoken, it's clear from the way that the dark-haired man carries on that he's anxious to be free from this. Anyone would be, but Ion has a suspicion that it's for reasons beyond simple boredom and claustrophobia. He's known driven men.

[gruesome]

The guards already know he can't eat their food, and so when they bring rations by for the prisoners, there's nothing for the grue. His wistful looks at the bread and scraps of meat are not wanting, but envious. When he's offered some, he blinks, but shakes his head hastily.

"No, please, keep it for yourself," he said, voice surprisingly light and soft for a creature nearly twice as long as a man.

[cruelyethuman]

The thing that unfurls itself from the cot, looks closer to nichyevo‘ya than Volcra. Like something unborn and unnatural, even if it every well could be entirely natural in another environment. The Darkling eyes it, sliding his food-offering slowly back across the floor.

"You're not hungry."

Everything with a mouth, eats.

[gruesome]

And things with two mouths, twice as much?

"No, not for any of that. I spoke to the- the interns. In the robes. Something will be done."

Soon, he hopes. They've surrounded him with humans. Though he's not so certain about this one.

"But thank you, that's kind."