trainingwings | (no subject)

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[*] test drive meme

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the luceti test drive meme

Reserves have just opened and apps are right around the corner. But are you still on the fence about any of your would-be characters? Well -- here is your chance to take them out for a spin!

▣ TAG IN or reply to others with characters you would like to test drive for Luceti.
▣ ONLY add top-level comments for characters who are not yet in the game. You're free to reply to others with Luceti characters (because that's half the fun) but remember that the whole point of this meme is for potential characters.
▣ PLEASE do not post duplicates of characters already in Luceti.
▣ GO AHEAD and give us a brief description of your character in the top-level comment, along with one or two possible ways to run into your test-driven character around town.
▣ YOU MAY use these threads for your first person samples on your app -- just make sure that you link threads of a goodly length (i.e., threads with at least ten comments from your character).

Need a little help getting started? Remember, you needn't post here as though your character is still brand-spankin' new. It'll probably be more fun for all involved if this isn't a simple dress rehearsal for showing up. Here are a few scenario ideas:

o1. The grocery store is out of food. What do you do?
o2. Wing injury! Call for help or stagger your way to one of our fine clinics.
o3. It's a busy evening at Good Spirits, one of Luceti's local bars. Do you dare try the drink specials?
o4. Have a talent for playing music? Try Cloud Nine's open mic night!
o5. Beach party? Snow party? Leaf-raking party? Gardening party? YOU DECIDE.

Okay. So my examples are pretty non-exciting. But they're really just suggestions. I'm POSITIVE you kids can come up with more creative things.

Above all? HAVE FUN.

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[Toby buys Sherlock some time, but no more than a few minutes at most. He's squirming again, and Molly tries to soothe him with quiet words and gentle pats. She turns in the process, and the moment she sees him is probably obvious, because her eyes light up without her being able to help it.

Yes, she's happy to see him. And yes, she will indeed wander over to his table.]

Sherlock! Good morning. [Oh, but suddenly Molly has very good reason to be glad she didn't name her cat what she'd originally thought, because how embarrassing would that be? She grins at the joke as she settles into the seat across from him. It is free, and they are friends...or at least, she thinks they are.] How are you?

[...Yes, they are friends. Even he would have to say that. But, then, how well does he really get along with most of his friends? Even John gets less-than-stellar treatment often.

He tries to smile. Really, he does. But it goes away after a moment.]

Bored.

[Is anyone surprised? No? Good.

He does nothing to actually call attention to the action, as if it's completely normal. But he does take the lid of his coffee cup, abandoned at the side of the table, and puts it nearer the centre of the table. ...Then pours a bit of milk into it.]

You?

[But see, that's what makes it hard to tell sometimes. Still, Sherlock does try in his own way. Like that attempt at a smile? Molly sees that, and it might make her a bit giddy on the inside.

She's very good at covering it up though. Just a smile, a downward dart of her eyes. Nothing much.

And maybe she's a little surprised. Then again, how often does she see Sherlock when he's not in the middle of a case?]

Well, it is quiet around here, isn't it? Nobody dying and all. "No bodies," I guess you could say.

[Yes, it's a joke. She laughs at her humor, though she may be the only one. That's okay.

Ah, but what Sherlock does catches someone's attention. Toby fidgets in her arms, and when Molly realizes what the man's done, she lets the cat down.]

Oh! Thank you! [She's genuinely surprised by the gesture, and folds her hands in her lap as she watches Toby go at the milk.] He was getting fussy. I actually meant to go to the store next, but then I saw you and wanted to say hi.

And I'm good. [Because Sherlock actually asked, so Molly will answer. He doesn't always remember to ask.] Still getting used to being here, but good.

[Molly. Never joke. Please. When you joke, you make him want to explain to you the many, many reasons why you should not joke.

To his credit, he doesn't go into that explanation. He's learning? Sort of.

The cat... he dismisses entirely. Well, beyond that milk. He doesn't acknowledge her thanks, perhaps because it would mean acknowledging what he did for the cat. He really doesn't mind the creature, not at all. But he's not a "pet" person. A flatmate is aggravation enough, thank you.]

Why would you want to get used to this place? It's so. hideously. dull.

No one does anything.

Not until the puppet-masters pull a few little strings and everyone or nearly everyone shares in a kind of mass hysteria.

I'm beginning to think they inflict that on the population just to force them to do something remotely like being interesting.

They certainly don't think. Idiotic and complacent.

People pulled from all sorts of worlds, different "realities"... and yet the masses are the same, boring, monolithic herd as they are in London.

[And he sighs in typical Sherlock fashion.] I hate them all.

[He is learning! Molly would be very proud if she knew all the things Sherlock wasn't saying. Then again, he usually says any number of awful things, so maybe she does have an idea. A good enough one to smile, anyway. It's much better to smile, she thinks, even if the silence makes her feel a little unsure.

Same thing with Toby. Then again, Sherlock isn't exactly good when it comes to saying 'you're welcome,' or 'thank you.' Or anything nice, really.

But he did something nice, for Toby, and Molly. That's good enough.

At least until he launches into one of his rants. Then Molly is left to look awkwardly between Sherlock and Toby, who is content to ignore them both in favor of the milk. She reaches out, scratches the cat's neck, and earns a purr. She likes it when he purrs.]

Well, it's just that we're going to be here for awhile, aren't we? [She purses her lips, then gives a shrug as if it were no big deal. She's not going to get angry over it, not the way Sherlock is.] Everyone--I mean, the book says no one knows how to get home.

I just figure it's better to get used to it, instead of being mad or upset all the time. [She sucks in a breath, then works up another smile.] It's one of those things where you just have to make the best of it. You know. Try to be happy?

You...you can't honestly hate people just for that. [God, Molly hopes not. What a awful way to feel. The smile dims as she looks up, actually willing herself to meet Sherlock's eyes.] Can you?

[Selective hearing? Sherlock Holmes? Never.

"Never" being "every day of his life."]

Oh, yes. The book.

We can't question the book. Everything written down becomes immediately infallible and must be treated as Gospel, regardless of how well the theories put forth in it have been scientifically tested.

Sheep. Mindless sheep.

It's not, in any way, remarkable that he can just... [a gesture with his hand] lead them to slaughter, and they bound after him, baa-ing happily.

[And then, as if he's just rejoined the conversation--]

Of course I can. [Quite calm on that point, actually.] They don't think. They don't question.

[Molly will never understand how Sherlock can see so much and so little at the same time. He keeps saying 'them,' which is fine, it's Sherlock and that's what he does. But Molly is saying 'we,' because she's part of them too.

One of the ones he's saying he hates. It hurts.]

Well, it's just that--how can you test it? The things here, what people do, the wings, all of it. There's not really anything scientific about any of it. It's all stuff from fairy tales and kid's stories.

[Oh, but he says something funny just then. Molly frowns, leaning closer as replays the words in her head, and yes, it's odd. It doesn't at all match what she's read in the book--not that Sherlock seems to think the book means anything, but Molly does. She has to, because what else has she got?]

He? Who's he?

[He's about to say something. He's about to talk about wanting to try surgery to remove the wings. The repeated blind insistence that it would be fatal, despite no one having evidence that a medical procedure would do such a thing. He is about to talk about logic and reason and testing things. Checking results. Changing variables, trying again, checking results. His experiments with Temperance on the wall, for instance.

But he doesn't get it out. Not before she has something else to say.

"fairy tales and kid's stories"

Fairy tales.

"I love newspapers-- fairy tales. And pretty grim ones too."
"Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain."
Hansel and Gretel.
King Arthur.

"I owe you a fall."

And the irritation becomes a quiet rage.

...Then Molly asks a question.]

"Who's he?"? [There's something low and biting in his voice. Something vicious.] You're not that stupid, Molly. You know.

Moriarty.

If you didn't know he was here, then I've given you far too much credit.

Here, and telling his lovely little stories, spinning the lies that sound like the truths they want to hear, and they lap it up out of his hand. Blind.

They don't even think to question him.

[It could be better that Sherlock doesn't get out all the things he wants to say. Molly definitely wouldn't like any of what he's thinking, what he wants to test by cutting off wings. She might even make a scene, shout a bit.

So maybe it's better. Or maybe not.

Molly shrinks back at the mention of Jim, who is still Jim in her head, probably always will be, but she's not saying that out loud. It isn't the first time that Sherlock's said something that makes her want to vanish, poof, right out of the chair to somewhere else, where he isn't looking at her like she's stupid even if he says she's not.]

I knew. [Her voice is tiny. Mouselike, and she swallows before she tries it again.] I. I knew he was here. I just wanted...well. To be sure.

[She fidgets then, starts to reach out for Toby, but second guesses herself and pulls her hands back.]

He's very good at it. Lying, I mean. He doesn't seem like someone people shouldn't trust.

[Or date. But they'd only gone out three times, even if Molly had invited him over for a Glee night once. Still, Sherlock's being harsh, she thinks.]

Besides, even you didn't know the first time. You said he was gay, but you didn't know everything. At least, you didn't say it if you did know. And why wouldn't you say it? You'd already gotten me mad, and it's not like that stops you.

[And that gives her a thought. They aren't questioning, but...]

Have you said anything, here? About him.

["I gave you my number. Thought you might call."

He will always regret that he didn't. He could have stopped the game, kept twelve people from being killed, kept John from being grabbed to play a part in all of the chaos. If he'd just called that number. Responded to the interest shown in him.

But Moriarty had known he wouldn't.]

I don't have any proof. [For a moment... he sounds defeated.

Tired.

Not all that different from when he had shown up in the morgue to ask for a favour. Something beyond the scope of any of his less-than-ethical experiments or his less-than-legal casework. When he realised he only had one way to beat Moriarty.] And he is a very good liar.

John would back me up, of course. Lestrade, too. Donovan. You.

But there are... dopplegangers here. People who look so, so very similar to someone but aren't them.

Even if anyone believed me about what James Moriarty is... I have no way to prove that James Milverton is the same man. And not simply someone who looks like the man I know.

[Molly knows that tone, and no it really isn't that different from the day in the morgue. She hates hearing it, seeing the look that comes with it, and Molly straightens her posture, tries to sit a little taller in her chair to somehow compensate.]

But you do have us. [She confirms what Sherlock says, even if he doesn't see it in the same way she does. It's proof to her.]

If all of us said something, people would listen. Enough to question, at least. [She leans forward, eager and earnest. Maybe she can help him hope a bit more.] Even as good as he is, he can't fool everyone. Not with enough people who know the truth around.

There's no proof, Molly.

There's no way to prove to anyone-- even all of you-- that he is Moriarty. And not just some strange who looks like him. [Every trace that had been on his suit? Laundered away. The dust and dirt and all other traces spoke of Luceti now, not London.

Now, ah, to find that mobile. If it's even here. If it will ever be here. If he could lay his hands on that, he could prove it. Or his journal. Names were etched into the inside covers of those. But both of those things were likely to be carefully guarded. And Moriarty had litle to do here that could distract him from protecting his secrets.

And without proof... He'd seen what would happen. He'd barely survived it in London.] Just keep your distance from him.

Still...

[Still. Molly wants it to count, the words of all those people, the ones she thinks of as friends. But it doesn't, for Sherlock. She knows it, so the protest dies before she even gets it out, and Molly's left to look around, doe-eyed and searching for some way to make it right.

Nothing around them helps. Toby, well. Toby's done with his milk, and set about cleaning himself, right there on the table.] Oh, Toby. That's--not where people eat! [And she smiles awkwardly, takes Toby down and sets him on her lap. There's a mewl of protest, but a weak one, since Molly sets about petting him again.

Then the right words come. Or at least, she hopes they're the right ones.]

You'll think of something. You always do. [Because he'd asked her before, what she would do if everything turned out to be a lie, and then it had, to almost everyone in the world. Almost.

That last bit he says, though. Oh, that gets Molly to nod, and quickly.] Oh, don't worry about that. I--I don't want to see Jim again. Ever.

If he comes.

[When he comes.

Because Moriarty will come.

He will have figured out one of the key elements of how Sherlock Holmes faked his death, and he will come after Molly Hooper.]

If he comes and you have any warning--

Just write my name in the journal. Or turn it on. Just do something.

I will see it.

[And he owes her.

He can at least try to repay his debt by trying to protect her from Moriarty.]

[The way Sherlock warns her, reassures her that if something happens he'll see, implies he'll do something--that scares Molly as much as anything else she's seen in Luceti, from the wings to the magic to all of it.

Sherlock's worried. Honestly, genuinely worried, and Molly has to fight away the urge to shiver.]

All right. [Even if she's afraid, what else can she say?] I promise Sherlock.

You'll do the same, right? [She asks because that's the sort of person she is, but she shakes her head a moment later.] No, probably not. But if you did, I'd see it too. And I'd tell someone. John or Lestrade. You know that.

[If he's lucky, Moriarty will come after him. Directly. But John and Lestrade are here. Now, Molly is, too. He's accidentally proven to Moriarty already that he is most vulnerable to indirect attacks. At least Mrs Hudson isn't here.

He isn't prone to lying when a case isn't involved. Most of the time, he's not even prone to tactful honesty.

But this...]

Of course.

[He won't.

If Moriarty comes for him, it will be one or the other. even if death is transient here. A week free from Moriarty... Time to plan for his return, at least.]

[Right. Molly knows she was correct then, the second time, when she said Sherlock probably wouldn't say a word if Jim came after him. It's like him--like anyone who tried not to look sad when people could see.

But she nods anyway. Molly knows there's nothing she can say to make him promise the way she did. So she just offers what she can.]

Good. Because we'll help you.

[It doesn't feel like much, but it's what Molly's got. That and her smile. So she smiles, and tries to come up with something else to talk about.]

Have you got a lab set up yet? [Something safe, just off the top of her head.] I mean, not that it's any of my business. But it's the sort of thing you would do. Get some sort of lab going.

I had the third bedroom in the flat as a lab for awhile. [Few too many arguments with the medical sort here that he... doubted he could get a medical lab like Bart's at his disposal.] But that proved confining.

[And John complained. Not complained, but Sherlock knew that look. The "Oh God, what are you brewing now?" and "You're going to burn down the flat, aren't you?" and other such looks.]

So Temperance-- Doctor Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian and consultant to the FBI, partnered with Special Agent Seeley Booth-- and I took down the wall between the two spare bedrooms in her flat, and we're sharing the laboratory space.

[He actually sounds vaguely happy, too. Because-- yay, science.]

[That...that was a bit more than Molly was expecting. A 'yes' or 'no,' maybe, or complaints about how everything was slow or out-dated, or just plain not good enough for him. She really didn't think he'd start dropping names.

Or talk about sharing lab space.]

Oh. Well. That...that's good.

[She's fidgeting again.] So you'll probably have plenty to do, soon enough. Tests to run, or you know. Something like that.

[...Yes, well, when one spends the better part of a week trying to demolish a wall that insists on coming back...

He feels he has cause to brag about the lab. And, well. With his luck, she'll run into either Temperance or Booth before long, and, really, he'd rather have the "oh, you know him?" conversation covered. Inevitable, still, but.

He's too fond of that laboratory not to talk about it.]

Most "tests" of any kind-- anything that suggests that everything may not be exactly what it looks like and exactly what someone else with no hard data claims it is-- are rather frowned upon in this community.

[Guess how much that stops him. If you answered "not at all," you'd be right.]

Of course, with no human remains staying post mortem, many of my experiments are impossible.

[He misses his morgue and its fresh samples. Even if his obtaining of them was a little darker on the grey scale of "ethics" and "morality."]

[Oh, but Molly knows the right thing to say then, and it shows on her face as it brightens with a smile.]

That doesn't stop you though, does it? [Of course, she wouldn't be nearly so cheery about it if she knew exactly which notion he was trying to disprove.] If there's anything to be proven wrong, you'll be the one to do it.

[Despite what he says next, about things being impossible. It's Sherlock.] Well, you never know! There's a war on, isn't there? [According to the book.] Wars always mean...well, you know.

[But she probably shouldn't be pointing that out so optimistically, should she? Right. Properly solemn then, because war is a terrible thing, a sad thing, and should be treated as such. It's just that working in a morgue, a person can get very used to the fact that people die.]

The Third Party hasn't crossed the barrier for some time, and I haven't been able to bring a body back.

[Guess how happy he is about that. Correct answer? Not at all.

He misses access to a morgue. He misses the familiar halls of St Bart's. He misses London.

Sentiment. God, he hates it.]

They know-- John, Lestrade, Donovan. If you run into them. They don't know about your direct assistance, but they know what I did. You can tell them your part, if you want to.

[You don't have to lie for me here.

He knew he'd put her in a bad spot. Signing her name on official documents. Illegal, yes, but Mycroft would protect her from chrrges if it ever came out. Lying on a piece of paper to help him was, as Sherlock saw it, no great hardship. It was telling that lie over and over to Lestrade and Mrs Hudson and John. Especially John.

even he had almost broken a few times and gone up to John while watching him on the street.

And-- here and in London-- only he, Moriarty, and Mycroft knew why.]

It was necessary to tell them.

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(no subject)

canon point is after the Fall, if that helps. ;)

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