Test Drive #1

[haibanemods]

Test Drive Meme #1

Prompts Waking up: You wake up in a bed that is not your own, in a room that is not your own. But the more you think about it, you can't remember what your room looked like. In fact, you can't remember anything at all! But hey, at least you're not the only person around. Reach out, find someone, and get some answers. The Dream: Haibane enter this world without most memories, but they do remember one thing: their cocoon dream. But it's not so easy to understand, is it? Maybe talking through it with someone else will help you figure out just what your dream means. Wings aren't easy to use: So, you're a Haibane. Awesome. But you know what's not awesome? Getting used to these darn wings, that's what. Suddenly having two extra limbs that you're not sure how to control isn't easy, and they're liable to bump into things and just plain get in the way. Actually, you might want to apologize for unintentionally hitting that person in the face, or help clean up that lamp you knocked over. On the town: Glie is a beautiful city, and there are a lot of places to explore! So why not check some of them out? Everyone seems friendly enough, and the townspeople are more than willing to help anyone who gets lost. Check out the setting page, pick a spot, and go check it out! Wintertime: It's wintertime in Glie, which means snow, snow, snow! And even though it's cold, the sun is shining, so the cold is bearable today. What are you going to do? Go sledding? Have a snowball fight? Make snow angels? Well, that last one should be a lot easier to do now. Player choice: Don't like these prompts? Come up with your own! The city of Glie is quite large, and there is a lot to do.

Comments

[shootaro]

[Pull them out?

His breath hitches in his throat, but his mind is calm still. He sees the blood run down and feels his stomach drop, very briefly noting the sensation, his hands obligingly working to peel back the robes and find the trapped, struggling wings. Even if he nearly lost his footing, even if it felt like he was hardly standing, he could truthfully say he didn't feel anything at the moment, working like an automaton.

He was not following orders because he felt subservient in anyway, but simply because they were rational orders; the fact that they had suffered the same pain rendered him invulnerable to any attack of misdirected sympathy that might stop him. He didn't have much strength left, so, he'd have to get this in one go, wouldn't he? In a similar vein, in this particular situation, it made perfect sense to lightly trace a line up over the blood-mottled skin, somewhat arbitrarily deciding a good distance to cut, so that his nails would be sufficiently embedded before they reach their mark, which would be the most strategic position to take? For convenience's sake, he must've made a subconscious decision to look upon the strongly-built body before him as an object: some drenched canvas, flimsy paper, then— the engorged cocoon he dug out of earlier. Gouge in, drag down, shred apart, flush out, break free.]

[hachimaki]

[he's rolled over on his side before he realizes it, fingers digging into the grit and grime of this dirty bathroom -- but it's better than the wounds trying to sprout from his shoulders and he knows it]

[eyes slam shut when he feels those fingers on them, too; he's done it to himself so many times, forced infection out with painstaking slowness or ripped a weapon out that had been cutting off his bloodletting until he got to a -- to a -- ]

[the experience of his body doesn't fill in the gaps for the experience of his mind, and he verbalizes another shaking, agonized groan as piece by piece, like old rotten wallpaper, his skin comes off and feathers stab, stab, snap through, rubbed against their grain to unfurl in all of their dark, stained glory, rightly matching Trip's hands and his own gore that covered them]

[he'd held his scream in, that much is admirable; what must this man have gone through to have a pain tolerance like that? the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes isn't remiss, but turned away from the other boy and with sweat-heavy bangs hanging over his face, who could tell]

[it still feels like there's a fever ravaging him... how long will this fucking last?]

How do we... [a croak of a dry voice and a pause for a thick swallow to get it down and speak more firmly;] How do we get out of here?

['here', this place, it can go to hell for all he cares]

[shootaro]

[The feeling on his hands is alien; so much so, it throws his senses into disarray. He doesn't like it. It's filthy. He might've carried that out methodically and with surprising viciousness for his lack of strength and size, but he could feel this wasn't something he's done before. His hands were soft, well-kept. He was someone who kept his clean.

The sight before him, however, is beautiful.

Shoot watches the wings break through, with stomach turning and bones chilling, but in awe of it all the same. The blood dashes out and splatters like rain, only thicker, heavier. He thinks he prefers to see them this way, these wings coated in blood for what they've put them through, then clean and grey and dreadfully boring. The mess matched the grime of this dingy little place and suited it best. Suited him, maybe even suited them both? How presumptious of him.

If he weren't so exhausted, having fallen down from the force of the unfurling wings, hands and feet on the cold tiles, chest heaving, he would've been able to give his reply a bit more thought. Instead, he fell back on thoughtlessly blunt responses weighed down with cynicism:]

We don't. [He stops, breathless.] I think... we've been condemned to this place. It's walled-in, we're somewhere we can't leave on our own.

These wings are some sick joke, aren't they?

Angels wouldn't... do what we just did, right? Or— suffer like that...

Hey. Still... feel hot?

[He meant Cedar, of course, but it was a bit hard to make out, his tired voice dropping to a barely audible whisper, as he shifts his weight to one arm, trying to push his hair out of his face, forgetfully smearing blood onto his skin. Ick. He removes his hand quickly and tries to keep his head up, get back on his feet at least, to stay awake long enough to try and get the older haibane out of there.]