timetrappedooc | Test Drive; December

Test Drive; December

Test Drive

Welcome to the test drive for Time Trapped. This is an open forum to test out your characters to see how they would fit into the game and if you might be interested in apping them here. We want you to feel comfortable and, of course, test drive threads can be used as samples on your application to join.

First, a few housekeeping things before we start:

∞Apps will be open as of Dec 10th at 12 AM, and will reopen on the first of every month. They will remain open until the 10th of each month before closing.

∞Both first and third person prompts are allowed in the test drive. We encourage both. We also encourage making multiple prompt options in your post.

∞Finally, you will be allowed to transfer your test drive threads over into the game canon should you apply and be accepted.

∞If you have any other questions please feel free to refer to the FAQ or contact the mods directly.

Aside from that, happy test driving.

Instructions:
Post with Character you'd like to test drive using Name and canon in the subject line.
Receive comments.
Profit

Prompts

1. Acclimating to the environment
While Gideon has a part of the area sectioned off for now based on her calculations of where the time anomalies are going to occur the area is still large and confusing. It’s easy for a person to get lost or overwhelmed in this big mish-mosh of a world. Perhaps you are lost, or maybe you are just settling in.

2. Reach out and touch someone
Gideon has been kind enough to provide you with a way to communicate. Whether that be a device or a simple SIM card. Why not try it out by sending a public message. Of course, you could also be sending it by accident.

3. Make peace, not war
While LA has become a hodgepodge of different times it has also become a hodgepodge of different areas as well. Exploring the downtown LA brings you to a section of Greenwich Village in New York. Unfortunately what was once a peaceful protest has grown into a fight between Mogul hordes and peace loving hippies who just want to protest. Local enforcement is, of course, trying to sort out this mess but it seems they might need a bit of outside help.

4. What's this strange building?
The 'Hall of Justice' stands in a sorry state as nature is trying to overtake it. Vines are crawling up the walls and there is Dimetrodon sunbathing in the courtyard, or what's left of it. Inside, any technology seems to have been destroyed and there is no sign of life. Still, it is a ruin left to be explored and the local archaeological society is willing to pay good money for relics from inside. Be warned that there may still be some rather nasty traps active inside and around the hall. If you happen to be a from the DC world you might see a few familiar faces among the broken statues that once adorned this building.

5. Let’s dance
The Verdant. A rousing nightclub in 'bad neighborhood' of what was once Starling City circa 2013. There seems to be a wide variety of patrons here tonight, anything from Greek Scholars to some Greasers. What a great place to grab something to drink or maybe cause a little trouble.

6. Dressing in style
Perhaps you arrived in less than ideal clothing. You may have arrived in no clothing at all. It might just be about time to look through some clothing stores and find what is right for you. Of course, it’s never that easy though. There are pickpockets and thieves all over the streets. You may just become their next victim.

7. Home for the Holidays
Little old London town is high in festivities right now. It's Christmas and the area surrounding Big Ben is snowy, though it's a bit melty due to the climate in LA. Festive decor and foods for sale circa 1885 in england and emotions are cheery and positive. Take a horse and buggy or attend a christmas party.

Just hope the mongols don't show up. Or Amazons.

8. Wild Card. Go nuts.

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If she gives a half-roll of her eyes at his just as nonchalant acceptance, it's fond, too. Well worn and time-tested, both back in the real 2017, and back in the real 2014, and even in the far future of the 'hopefully never real again 2046.' Oliver Queen was Oliver Queen was Oliver Queen.

She gives an overdone sigh, and holds the one out she'd been tapping -- to let him have it, even as she grouses.
"Just because I have short of ten of them on me currently, does not mean I do not need all ten of them back."

Then, came added, a look mocking over patience, as if he were a small child, and not who he was;
"One would think you'd have learned better how to pack for being kidnapped by now."

They can do this.
They can drink and throw knives and pretend that time hasn't fractured apart beneath them and Oliver can drink and try to ignore the gulf between them. The one where Sara has died, lives again and becomes captain of a time ship and he.. he doesn't know what happens to him. To them.
It's not something he can bridge with just a touch, even if he wants to.

So he lets her tease him, accepting the knife with a fond smile of his own. At least weapons were a certainty. Something that he could hold and use and understand.

He'll slip away tonight. He'll find somewhere alone.
But not just yet.

As Sara chides him he just laughs, saluting her with his drink before letting fly with the knife. "You would think."

Sara watches Oliver's fast movement at the side of her vision, even as she's flipping up one of the other two in her hand, and throwing it. His not even lodged into the wall, when she's taken in its trajectory, and she throws hers to land an inch or so above his. She's going to owe someone a wall, but then, this time won't exist, again, soon either.

Remorse for repair isn't something Sara has.

Especially when it's a viscerally rewarding sound to hear them both hit home.

She flips the third up in her hand, head barely tilting, eyes narrowed as she's deciding where for it.
Nothing about that changes in the slightest, even as she says, "You can ask."

"I could," he agrees. Pauses as the next knife flies from her hand. He could ask. Part of him wants to ask and another part of him doesn't want to know. Since the Gambit went down it's been one horror show after another. Struggle and loss. Death. Fear. Solitude.

"Maybe another time I will."

Because right now, Oliver doesn't want to think about her past, his future and how it all tangles together. Or if it doesn't, if they simply follow different paths.

Maybe it's selfish, and it very likely is, but Oliver just wants a few hours without that hanging over his head.

It's something in how he says the second part that makes her pause and look at him. There isn't a maybe. But there's something else, too. They might not be mirror images of each other, but after what they'd been through they understood each other in ways no one else, who hadn't been to or through what they had, did.

Sometimes what they needed was not what people thought they did. Couldn't be asked for or even put into words. He didn't want space (yet). He didn't want any part of the too greater, complicated truth (yet). But he wanted to be here. With her. And there's a harrowed edge to that lingering darkness on him. The one in his eyes that doesn't leave when it's bad. When it's at its worst.

This one she never saw: because she wasn't there to see it. Because he's still looking at her like she's a ghost, a body gone cold and yet somehow up moving, too. She doesn't know what his last two days were like. But she knows him too well to not have to an extremely detailed guess.

"Fair enough." Sara can say blithely after that moment of consideration, and if her smile crooks at one side, her eyes might have all the rest there her face doesn't. Compassion. Concern. Regret. Acceptance, that couldn't judge, not especially now.

She tips her head to the daggers back in the wall. "Your turn."
"I need another drink. Do you want anything?"

Edited 2017-12-05 17:08 (UTC)

There's absolutely no question in how he says it. A time will come when he will need the space, when he will demand answers and retreat again in order to process it. With Felicity there, with Sara, with Thea and so many others, Oliver will do what he always does. Set aside anything personal in favor of larger and far more complex goals, regardless of the cost.

But it's been a difficult year and a half. Slade Wilson. His company stolen not once but twice out from under him. His mother. Thea. Roy. He has lost so much but just this one time, Oliver was given something back. Something precious.
So he's going to be selfish, just this one time. He's going to sit with Sara, he's going to throw knives for no reason other than because they can.

And she understands. Of course she does. Sara understands him far better than anyone ever had. She won't press. Not tonight.

"Yeah, a drink sounds good."

"Something specific--" Sara let her fingers press together, hands raised in front of her, but still in the swing of movement, even without a dagger in them to put the restless, itch of energy into. "-- or are you just trusting that I won't come back with something purple and terrible, that would put even frat boy jello shots to shame?"

Another laugh slips free, a laugh that tells Oliver that he's indeed made the right choice for the evening. No complicated issues like time travel, death or resurrection. Just a night with a dear friend who would always hold a place in his heart.

"I think I trust you to come back with something that won't permanently damage us."

Oliver is never not beautiful when he's laughing the way he does just now: thrown surprised and delighted by it.

It's an easy thought, a carelsss one, fond and absent, at her own flash bright trite levity and proof of measuring up to his request. Maybe that doesn't get any further inspection, maybe it hasn't in good while now, but there has never been and will never again a day, in any timeline, on any world, where Oliver Queen needs something from her and she won't be there to help him with all she can and all she has.

Still, she doesn't miss a beat, Miss Sara Lance, whose face turns a river of shameless implication to the opposite, posture canted to one side, and smile a tilted twist. "Well, that's definitely your first mistake. Try not to contemplate too hard that you asked for your own demise while you get my knives."

Which is all she says, before her weight shifts on the turn of one foot and she's making her way through the crowd back to the bar he'd originally come from the direction of.

Edited 2017-12-06 06:05 (UTC)

Sara is still one of the few people that can startle a laugh out of Oliver. Perhaps because she knows him so well, or more likely because he can let down his guard when he's around her.

He doesn't regret his decision for an instant because this is what he needs right now. He needs warmth and he needs light and Sara has always been both.

As she melts back into the crowd to pick up whatever death-concoction she's going to come up with that will bring a pounding headache come dawn, Oliver goes to retrieve her knives and smile to himself. He trusts her. Whether it's with drinks, knives, or the history that she can't quite bring herself to share with him yet.

He'll always trust her.

There are some easier and worse jokes, still lingering on the back of her tongue. Things she could say to her crew. Things she could say to the Oliver from her time. But not to him. He isn't really game for jokes about permanent damage and death, not really, not even if he might try to roll with it.

It might be the fourth time he thought he saw her die in front of him, but it was the first one he had a body for and no miracle cure. Not yet.

And not yet ready for the joke of it, that was never quite a joke. How close Sara and dying, or almost dying, were eternally linked. He was nowhere near ready to hear it'd happened again after she left with the Legends. Or that she'd just come back from precariously close to it again, only a short time ago. Not tonight.

"I need--" Sara started once the cute bartender with the long jet black hair freed herself. She looked back at Oliver, narrowing her eyes, because she was nothing if not at least a little predictable in this. "--two 4 Horsemen."

Which is exactly what she has in her hands, when she's headed back. She held out Oliver's glass with a far too telling smirk, "To trust."

And there might be a time in the future when Oliver can appreciate those jokes, both about her own death and almost death and the few times he's managed to just skirt it himself.
But not today. Things are still too raw.

Then Sara is coming back with two shot glasses and a smirk that spells out trouble in bright neon letters. Oliver shakes his head as he takes the glass. "I am going to regret this, aren't I?"

But regret won't stop him tonight. Oliver clinks his glass with hers and knocks it back. Coughs. Oh yeah. He's already regretting it and the liquor hasn't even hit his bloodstream yet. "Yes. Yes I am already regretting it."

Sara just grins, clinking her glass and downing it in an easy swallow. Heat burning down the back of her throat and warming down her chest, sharp and dark, and making her roll her shoulders back and roll her neck slightly, even as she was already opening her eyes, to laugh as Oliver coughed under the assault of all that whiskey.

"Well, you did basically ask for it."

"And I will remember that when I wake up with a headache tomorrow." But for now he can focus on the moment. A drink and an easy smile with a friend. Even when said friend gives him the shot from hell. "I haven't drank like this since I left Russia."

"Are you getting weaker in your old age?"

There's no innocence in her mockery (but there's not true insult in it either), as the warmth lingers burning at her throat. "I suppose it's good I brought you the shot, and not one of the glasses that're made of one shot of each together. Then, you might have just passed out and where would we be."

"maybe I haven't had anyone to get good and drunk with." He won't let it get that far. Neither will she. They'll both keep some measure of control. Because things are complicated at the moment and if Oliver reaches out to touch again, it will only get more complicated.

"Well." Sara says, with emphasis on the end, like it's an endstop, and important beginning.

"You always did have very suspect taste in friends." Case in point, Ollie. Case in point, right here.

Edited 2017-12-09 18:04 (UTC)

"Oh I don't know," he offers with an easy sort of smile, one he'd all but forgotten back home. When she'd gone back to the League. But it's still a smile she will always coax out of him.

"I'd like to think at times my taste has been pretty on target."

Sara half-rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Whoever told you that flattery gets you everywhere, was lying." Just like Sara was right now, except that it really was quite pleasing to keep being able to win that smile from him. It might not all be on the up and up, but she could do this. Would do this. Do whatever might help him while he was near her. She could, and would, never do any less. Not for Oliver.

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Test Drive; December

Test Drive

Prompts

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