Prompt 1:
 he forest looms as ever, colorless but not at all dead. The leaves are full, fluttering in the silence, but there's no scent to them, no color. The effect is eerily hard to navigate, almost like an optical illusion, leaves, branches and trunk blending together with the small path -- which already disappears and reappears at a whim.
But even so...
If you brave the path, it seems as though there is something leading you onwards. A trail of... something, crumbs, maybe, the same shade of colorless as everything else, almost impossible to see. Following those might be a bad idea -- your chances of getting lost, tangled in random underbrush, or wandering aimlessly for hours are pretty high... to say nothing of what you might encounter if you stray too far (hint: even the small, fuzzy things have nasty bites).
Still, it's there, and if you follow them... eventually you will come to a small house. It's decrepit, falling apart and in shambles... do you really want to go inside? Perhaps armed with one of the many convenient tree branches that have probably smacked you thus far?
Prompt 2:
 hould you enter the house, you'll be greeted with a creepy, creepy doorman. Aw, how cute! And in that doll's hand, there's...a message.
On a slip of paper, it reads, simply and plainly:
The more you take, the more you leave behind.
Curious! (And yeah, you can destroy the doll. It's just a normal doll. You may even come across said doll already crushed by an intrepid explorer.)
Of course, it's a riddle, and the answer's a warning -- the longer you walk around and about the house, the less you'll remember about yourself, until you forget why you were there and why you should leave, and who you are at all, doomed to wander forever.
Or someone saves you, that's fine too.
Prompt 3:
 roblem: There are no fresh eggs in the Town.
Solution: Catch a feral chicken, and keep it for eggs. That seems simple enough, right? You're totally up for the task... right?
But why do all of the animals look so strange in the forest? Mutated, with teeth, or wings that don't belong, or claws. That's... a chicken, right?
Catching it will allow you to get some eggs, but that beak looks pretty nasty -- it might be harder than it looks. But you're intrepid and clever, right? Why not demonstrate your Chicken Wrangling Skills that won you the championship so many years ago? Or try to serenade the savage beast? Or wuss out and form a coalition with which you draw lots to see who has to do battle with the chicken? There's safety in numbers! But the prize will surely be worth a bit of blood loss and fowl-related trauma.
Do it for the eggs.
Prompt 4:
here's a new quest on the forum today, and it looks awfully easy! It's listed simply as:
Quest XXII.
Talk to someone you've never met about their childhood.
Quest will be completed when you have reached an acceptable level of knowledge.
On the other hand, that's a little vague, isn't it... ? How will you even know when you've completed a quest like that?
Still, it looks easy! Maybe go give it a try. You could respond to the forum post to try to find people, or just go on outside, go harass someone about their past. If you're lucky, you'll drag it out of them with very little hassle and it won't take you a good chunk of the day. If you're unlucky, that's what highly persistent stalking is for! But don't forget, you'll likely have to return the favor.
And your new friend might not be the only one listening.
Extra:
Got something in mind? Want to play with the setting more? The sky's the limit, so feel free and make up your own prompts to play with!
Welcome to Awash's first Test Drive Meme! Please check out the FAQ and rules as you test your characters out. The setting is yours to play with, so be creative and have a good time with it!
Important dates to remember are March 1st, 9 PM EST, when Reserves will open, and March 7th, 9 PM EST when Applications will open. Keep an eye out for it!
If you have any questions about the TDM, feel free to ask us here. If there are any other questions, you can catch us via PM, the FAQ or the contact page. Thank you for your interest in Awash! |
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Taking down a cheat sheet for us, are we?
[He says, raising his eyebrows at the marker.]
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[ Noctis says dryly; this whole place gives him the creeps, and he can't help but hate that he doesn't know how to stop whatever it is from happening, how to prevent them from forgetting more than they already have. It's like quicksand, right? The more you move in here, the faster you sink, is that it? He hates the idea of that, and thinks that if it hadn't been for Ignis, who knows what will become of him, slow and steadily forgetting everything?
He just hopes, Six, that this thing reverses itself when they're out of this place. He writes down "I am Ignis" on his palm in clear letters; and yes, he's noticed how deft and quick he is, how adept he is, dismissing the weapon with a practiced, efficient flick of his wrist. It's a nice trick, and under normal circumstances, Noctis would probably comment -- but now, they need to get out of here before worse things happen to them. Pushing his sleeve up, he continues, "Here with Noctis, finding a way out of the house. House steals memories. We need to get out."
There. ]
All right, now we'll just have to look down at our arm if we forget. [ Noctis says briskly, quite pleased with his handiwork even if his handwriting could definitely stand to be better. ] Come help me with mine?
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But it's an apprehension quickly put aide, out of necessity. Regardless of impetus, Noct's idea is a good one, and he takes note of the directions printed in Noct's cramped handwriting before nodding and reaching for the marker in return.]
I'll have to work to keep this brief. It wouldn't do to have my tendency toward verbosity leave you looking as though you're wearing a very odd tattoo.
[But then he pauses, marker hovering, and frowns as for some reason that rings familiar. Who has a tattoo? Someone. Why is that important?
Later. They'll have to work that out later.
His handwriting is much neater than Noct's, and smaller. It's for the better, because he's not inclined to gloss over the things he finds important.
"I am King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV. Ignis is my retainer. (if only because "chamberlain" would take up more letters, and valuable space they need to preserve) House steals memories. We need to leave this house. My sword will appear in my hand if I will it to come."
He hesitates, glancing up at Noctis for one half-uncertain moment, and then quickly pens before he can talk himself out of it:
"I trust Ignis with my life."
That's a liberty he's not entirely sure he has the right to be making. But still, desperate times, desperate measures.]
Anything else?
no subject
He remembers. He remembers when he'd first met Ignis, clasped his hand with both of his. He remembers the first taste of that fluffy pastry, and all the others that came after -- ones that didn't quite taste right but Noctis didn't mind tasting one after another, offering honest feedback, enjoying the pastries all the same; after all, Ignis was the one who made them, and they were delicious.
He frowns. Someone said that before. Someone he shared one of Ignis' tarts with, at school. Someone he remembers in flashes, and frowns. Then Ignis mentions tattoos. Tattoos. He remembers tattoos, as well -- a glimpse of dark hair and tawny eyes, the smell of sand and canvas, the sizzling of meat on a grill. Noctis tries to remember, grasping at straws, but the details are fuzzy, and Noctis is looking at down at the neat words, small and definitely readable.
Trust Ignis to have thought of this, too, and he nods like the addendum is the most natural thing in the world; it is, if you ask Noctis. He trusts him with his life, and as his oldest, closest companion, he more than has the right to make that assertion. Ignis has earned it, over and over again -- his devotion and loyalty second to none, a harbor in stormy seas. ]
No, it sounds good. [ Noctis can't help a flutter of apprehension: maybe it only sounds good because he's forgotten what to add. ] And if you forget anything, I'll just remind you, okay? C'mon, let's go.
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[The notion that they'll remind each other is a reassuring one, however hollow. They can't very well remind each other of anything if they both forget what they're supposed to be remembering to begin with, but — well. It can't be helped, at this point, and between the cheat sheets and their own connection, he can't imagine forgetting the most vital of details, anyway.
So he moves to the wall to their left, lightly resting his fingertips against it, and starts to follow it toward the door he knows he'd entered through — and therefore logically, that they ought to exit from.]
Together, then.
no subject
It occurs to him that during the entire journey, they'd rarely been far apart for long -- even all the way back to when they were children, when Ignis had been his closest, most constant companion until the Citadel had summoned him, priming Ignis for his future duties as the heir apparent's closest confidant. But Ignis is more than that; he's the only one who had been there when Noctis had been lonely, when his father had no choice but to cancel meals together, when sessions of kicking a ball around in the palace gardens had ended up in the young boy's disappointment. There is no doubt that Regis had loved his son dearly, of course, and Noctis had loved his father fiercely, wholly -- but still.
In the midst of the disappointment and broken promises, Ignis had been there -- there are still scars, even, from when Ignis had broken his arm falling from a tree when he followed after him, and he remembers, too, all the times they had snuck out because Noctis had wanted to see the stars, and -- ]
You'd watch the stars with me.
[ He says out loud, suddenly, apropos of nothing; as if if he says it out loud, nothing can take that memory away from him (this is not how it works, of course, but hope springs eternal, and foolish). ] When we were kids. We'd sneak out together at night, and you would always take the blame if we got caught.
[ In case Ignis forgets, he thinks. In case this slips away from either of them. They clear the first door, second, and surely they must be halfway to the exit by now. ]
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It surprises him a little, though, that the memory Noctis picks is one of him. Surely Noct isn't concerned about losing memories of him, not when they've written their notes to each other on their hands, and not when he's right here next to him. Why, then, is this the memory he picks to share and air aloud? Why not one of his father? Why not one that grasps for the identities of those people he feels sure they once knew, why not — why not ones of the moon?
They watched the stars. Cosmogony. But hadn't Noct spent years looking for the moon — ?]
Of course I did.
[Took the blame, he means. He doesn't even need memories to confirm that.]
After a while, we simply got better at not being caught, didn't we? Learning in action.
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You never said no. [ Not when Noctis asked, clutching a too-large book, too hopeful and too lonely for Ignis to turn him away. They'd looked at the stars together, and he wonders if his dad knew, after all, how they'd snuck out as children, the weight of the berating on Ignis' shoulders as he bore them with a quiet dignity. His mind scrabbles on other things, the slipping memories of a bright smile and blue eyes, long limbs and an ache that Noctis cannot name, as if he's missing another trusted friend and he can't, for the life of him, hold on. ]
We had friends. [ Noctis blurts out, thinking of the sun dappled on too blond hair, or the many times Noctis had been sent tumbling onto the mats. The people he loves. The warmth in his dad's eyes (the sadness in them as he -- as he what?). Noctis smiles, gently nudging Ignis towards the other door on the left. ] Hey, imagine what dad would say if he got told that this place exists.
[ He has so many things to tell Regis, after all; surely his dad'll make time for this discovery, now. ]