TEST DRIVE

[whitechapelmod]

TEST DRIVE MEME

OPTION A

With the cooling weather came the changing of the leaves, the lighting of candles and the advertisements in all the shops and bulletin boards for the Annual Whitechapel Road Fall Festival. Overnight your quaint little neighborhood has been transformed from a typical Victorian-esque scene to well, a typical fall festival scene. Strings of lights have been wound between the lamps, scarecrows have been put up in shop windows that hold signs with arrows on them, directing you down the main street toward the park. In the park, you'll find a small carnival. No big gaudy rides, of course, but booths set up by local businesses where they sell items from their shops. Games like bobbing for apples and pin the nose on the scarecrow have been scattered in the places between the face painting booths and cotton candy vendors. There's also booth offering food and drink-- and doesn't that cider just smell wonderful? Of course, they have hot chocolate too, if cider's not your thing. Mingle and enjoy your night! But be careful-- you might just end up in the dunking tank..

OPTION B

You wake late in the morning to a strange chill in the air. The weather, sure, but also something else, something wrong in the energy. Maybe you've never been much of a person who believes in that sort of stuff-- energy, vibes, whatever-- so you brush it off and go about your day. It's not until you're out and about that you really start to notice something. The streets are mostly empty, the shops closed down. A cold wind blows through and makes you shiver as you turn down the street toward the Town Board. The papers flutter in the wind, but it doesn't matter, you're not reading them, you're reading the message written in red over all of them. YOU WILL ALL BE PUNISHED. Is that blood it's written in, or paint? It's hard to tell, but the color seeps into the fliers and advertisements-- "puppies, free to a good home" or "half off on all clothing TODAY ONLY"-- staining them, ruining them. You know without even turning and walking the extra block that something very bad has happened. Yellow tape surrounds the board, you just notice, and blocks the entrance to a nearby alleyway. An officer stands guard, but he looks pale and shaken. This isn't the first. Just last week, someone was killed too. The boy who delivered the milk. Eddie. Throat slashed and a message written in blood on the wall above him, similar to this one. An ambulance arrives but you stay where you are, watching as more officers emerge from the alley, carrying something on a stretcher. Someone, you realize, because what else do they carry on stretchers? A shock of red, curly hair pokes out from the top and you think of the girl who runs the register in the bakery, a waitress from the cafe you tried last week, your sister back home who will (hopefully) never end up here. Could this really happen here? Some maniac killing people because they think you need to be punished? It's wrong, it's confusing, and it's terrifying, isn't it?

Make a top-level comment below, with whichever option you'd like in the subject, and maybe a little starter. Please also feel free to disregard the options and choose your own adventure! Below are links to the setting and premise, so feel free to use those as reference in guiding your post. Tag around and have fun!

NAVIGATION
APPS | FAQ | RESERVES | RULES | TAKEN | SETTING | ROOMS | SUGGESTIONS | JOBS | PREMISE | ACTIVITY CHECK | DROP | HIATUS

Comments

Detective Fields | The Raven | Option B

[detective_fields]

He watches the scene unfold with a grim expression. He doesn't find the police force here particularly effectual. He'll be poking around that alley when they've gone.

[havinhoops]

There's another man here critiquing the work of the local constabulary, but he's not nearly as quiet about it as Fields is. "Bloody amateurs," he scoffs disdainfully, his accent immediately marking him out as a native of Manchester. "Place like this, I reckon th' worst they've 'ad t' deal with is th' odd bit o' cow rustlin', or whatever passes for petty crime in th' soddin' countryside."

Homer Jackson | Ripper Street | Option A

[ontheotherhand]

[He hasn't been here long, but isn't that always the case? He doesn't make it a point to stay in one place for time, and it was time to move on. Unfortunately for him, this place is an awful lot like the one he up and skedaddled from, and that isn't the most comforting thing in the world. Still, he'll make do. He always does. Besides, this place can't be all bad. It's got decent food and the people are friendly enough. He appreciates that they know when to keep to themselves.

He walks around the festival with a cup of warm cider in his hands-- the nights have gotten colder, so he's glad for it. He's wandering, looking for a game to play when he comes up on the dunk tank, and lets out a laugh at the familiar face.]

Didn't know this was your kinda place.

[thecontrary]

[Charlotte is surprised to be approached, but she tries not to show it. She didn't know the man well, aside from the fact that he seemed to be from her own time. She mostly tried to keep to herself, really, just pondering why she was unable to return home and how worried her family must be for her welfare.]

It isn't, not particularly. [She turns her attention back to the display, trying to indicate she doesn't wish to be spoken to. Even though she doesn't know him well he doesn't strike her as a gentleman, and some life-long habits are hard to break.]

Anita Blake | Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter | Option B

[animator]

It's far from her first murder scene, though it's been a long time since she's been forced to stand on the sidelines, craning her neck for a better view and reminded of the fact that she's a civilian. She hadn't had a badge back home, just a reputation and an ID that marked her as being on retainer, but dropping Sgt. Storr's name was usually enough to get her access. Not here. Here, she had to stay behind the line like a well-behaved citizen, arms crossed as she did her best to get a better look, waiting for a break in security she might be able to exploit.

Call it curiosity, but she wanted to see this up close if she could. She was used to the police looking for all the wrong clues. Sometimes the killer was something more up her alley than theirs.

Of course, sometimes people were just plain awful and there was nothing creepy-crawly involved at all. She couldn't decide which she hated more.

[rappigdinner]

Speaking of people who were just plain awful...

"My, my," a voice remarks from somewhere a little behind Anita. "It certainly seems like someone wanted to put on a show for us all."

If she turns, she'll see a tall, thin man in what appears to be some sort of military uniform, smiling faintly as he gazes at the message written in blood. He pulls one hand out of his pockets momentarily to adjust his glasses, which catch the light, obscuring his blood red eyes for just a moment with a bright gleam.

Hector Barbossa ☠ Pirates of the Caribbean ☠ Option B

[justguidelines]

[Terrifying? No. He's seen his fair share of murders; committed more than a few himself, so death, in and of itself, simply isn't something he bats an eyelash at anymore. See it enough, you eventually become completely desensitized.

No, more that he's drawn to the message itself, because for him, it's simply somewhat amusing and sad. Punished? Well, he certainly wishes whomever has a bee in their bonnet luck.

He's stared into the maw of Hell and walked its halls before. There's no mystery in that sort of thing left for him.

Instead, he simply bounces slightly on the heels of his boots, mouth quirking in a sort of dark amusement.]

Well, that's just terribly cheerful, ain't it.

[detective_fields]

[Fields glances at the other bystander when he speaks, raising an eyebrow slightly.]

I take it you have some measure of experience with grisly deaths.

Aerith Gainsborough | Final Fantasy VII | Option A

[cetra]

Once she knows there's a carnival in the park she just has to go see it.

There hadn't been much in the way of fun in her childhood home. Well, the kind of fun she would enjoy. So when there's a chance to go out and enjoy herself, Aerith always jumps at the chance.

She's been there only five minutes, but already she has some cotton candy in hand, pulling off little bits and eating it happily as she strolls through the booths.

It's hard to decide what she wants to do first - play a few games, or buy some presents. Aerith's there's to see all the carnival has to offer, and she doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon.

[swooshycape]

"... this is much nicer... than Gold Saucer," a familiar (perhaps?) voice growls from the shadows under one of the booths' awnings.

Oh look, it's Vincent, looming there and eyeing the whole carnival with thinly veiled suspicion. The first mark against this place was just waking up on a train that disappeared. The second mark against this place is that the cider isn't spiked. But he actually otherwise is fairly content for the moment. No monsters (yet), no ShinRa (that he can detect) - just a carnival with tasty apple cider and games he has no interest in participating in. And an Aerith, who he is probably benignly stalking because he's worried ok.

Sherlock Holmes || BBC Sherlock || Option B, of course~

[in_my_mind_palace]

[Another murder.

He can tell; the feel of the atmosphere has changed. Does he believe in it? No, but that doesn't matter now, does it? The point is the shift is there, he can feel it, and so should the rest of the inhabitants. If he can somehow make his way onto a train that takes him to a town he can never leave, then there can be changes in energy.

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

The last murder left much to be desired as far as motive, but the method of the kill for this victim is easily associated with the first. Brutality, and the use of a clean blade. Much more, a practiced hand slashed that throat no matter how flayed the skin appeared to be. They knew what would be most painful. Slowly bleeding out doesn't render the mind unaware, it just means that the victim can't do anything about it.

Without even approaching the crime scene he can deduce that the letters are written in paint. Blood dries reddish-brown, paint would stay a vibrant shade of red meant to scare.

Obvious.

A closer look reveals strokes of a brush, possibly. That's clever; it won't leave behind finger prints, but if he can find a hair from the brush in the paint or some sort of fiber. . .that could bring him closer. Sherlock tears down the papers that have blood on them and leaves the rest. He'll be analyzing these later.

Next are the parade of footprints around the scene scoffing out what may be the killers. Shoddy investigation techniques. When will the police force ever learn?

Amateurs.

The yellow tape seems considerably unnecessary given the deserted streets. The citizens have done exactly as the criminal has wanted; they're keeping to their homes in fear. Ah, but fear of who may be next. What's the motive? Why the milk delivery boy?

Digging into his history will be on the priority list for finding out the meaning behind his 'punishment'. As for the girl being wheeled out from the scene that he barely catches a glances of; possibly adultery, stealing, some sort of sin. Threats to punish can be driven by the psychopathic sense that this person is doing God's work. (Does any religion exist in this town?)

No time to waste then, he'll play the curious citizen who's asking too many questions while he pick-pockets one of the detectives for their badge. (He pick-pockets Lestrade when he's annoying so why not them?)

It'll give him access to the crime scene to anyone who will suggest he shouldn't be there. Now, what's been left behind if anything at all?]

((ooc: Basically he's snooping around, gathering clues, and you're free to come poke him! tell he's not supposed to be here, try to help, whatever works.~ ))

Modern Detective meet Victorian Detective

[detective_fields]

Inspector Fields made his way along the alley, searching the ground for any clues that might suggest who else had been here, apart from the girl.

He made it about half a metre before he realized another man was approaching, doing the same thing he was.

"You don't look like the local police," he comments.

the Doctor | some weird show about time travel | A

[raggedydoc]

The Doctor isn't likely to miss a festival, and once he's poked around enough to establish that there isn't something sinister going on behind the scenes of this one (because that's really been the case more often than he cares to count, at least in his experience), he's determined to enjoy this one. He's been in an increasingly cheerful mood lately - a better mood than he's been in since he lost the Ponds, since he started travelling with Clara - and said mood out in full force today.

It seems like he's everywhere at once, from the games - spinning around with a blindfold over his eyes and nearly pinning the nose on the hapless booth attendant - to the food stands - he's had fairy floss from all over the galaxy, you know, but this is much better than the sort found on Vega IX, which tastes vaguely of fish. He shoves his top hat into a bystander's hands as he goes bobbing for apples, ducking his head into the tub and coming up soaking wet.

[rappigdinner]

When he comes back up, he'll find that the bystander into whose hands he shoved the hat is now wearing it, tilted at a bit of a jaunty angle. Said bystander simply smiles and shoves his hands back into his pocket as he watches The Doctor continue on with his bobbing. Carnivals and party games aren't really his thing, but Jade does like apple cider and he does get some amusement out of watching people make fools of themselves. He also hardly minds getting a nice hat out of it - so Doctor you'd better grab an apple soon or else Jade is going to just walk off with your hat.

Oops - he is already turning to melt back into the crowd. (Normally he doesn't condone petty thievery, but he's bored and curious, and that makes for a terrible combination, does it not?)

Richard Castle | Castle | Option B

[writeswrongs]

If Castle hadn't just seen Alexis back at the house a minute ago, he might be having a heart attack and tearing down caution tape right about now. Fortunately though he knew that the redhead under the sheet was not his daughter and that she, him and Kate were all safe. For now.

Being an author of murder mystery novels and a consulting detective to the NYPD, Castle knew a bit about murder. Between this killing and the one last week and the messages on the bulletin board, this whole thing reeked of a serial killer. But in a population so small as that of Whitechapel, a serial killer couldn't hide for long. It wasn't like New York City, where someone could easily vanish into a crowd. There were no crowds here. He was left wondering if it was one of the people who had arrived on the train or someone who had been living here already.

His guess? One of the rich people that lived in Sanctuary Crescent, a place they wouldn't allow him to consider despite the fact that if he had access to his bank account at home he'd easily be able to own a house in there. All of the victims so far had been of the working class. A rich guy getting his jollies?

It'd make for a good story.

Castle stood with his arms crossed and waited for Kate to arrive on the scene. Even though they technically weren't part of the police force here, they were obviously still working the case on their own. As if a murder could happen in their vicinity and they could ignore it.

"I'm starting to think murder follows me," he said out loud.

[detective_fields]

"That can be said of two kinds of people," Fields commented, standing nearby. "Which one are you?"

Jesse Pinkman | Breaking Bad | B

[cowhouse]

[It's the quiet that really gets to him. He isn't much a fan of that these days- studiously avoids it, even, if "studious" could ever apply to him- and so naturally he notices it as soon as he steps outside to have a smoke.

And take a walk, apparently, because what the hell else is he supposed to do? There isn't much else around to occupy his attention- not even a damn stereo, and in his mind that's like a cardinal sin of something- and so off he goes, searching for something to do. Supposedly there's some kind of notice board somewhere? Whatever, he'll just... Check that out. Look for some excitement.

...What he finds isn't quite the excitement he was looking for; he's no dope- and no stranger to cops and how they roll- and so as soon as the ambulance has whizzed by he and his cigarette are ducking into another nearby alleyway, one away from whatever the fuck's going on over there. Pay no attention to the shifty looking kid with his hood up. There's nothing to see here...]

[albuquerque]

[Severus is hurrying down the alleyway, keeping in the shadows. Being an empath, being in tune with energy, means he can feel the uneasy vibes in the air. He can sense that something isn't right; he has felt it ever since he awoke this morning.

It's an unease not unlike that which had hung over wizarding Britain during the rise - and return - of the Dark Lord: silent, ominous, cold. He almost expects to see a Dark Mark hanging over the town, and so he moves only in the shadows, just in case. Experience has taught him that when something doesn't feel right, stealth is the best course of action.

His footfalls echo quietly down the dark alleyway, brisk and sharp. He glances over his shoulder a few times in paranoia, making sure he isn't being followed. He doesn't see the hooded man approaching; he's busily throwing another precarious look over his shoulder. When he returns his attention ahead of him, he almost collides with the hooded figure.

Stopping sharply in his tracks, he instinctively reaches into his sleeve and yanks his wand out as he takes a quick step backwards to assert distance between the person and himself.]

Stop right where you are. [He utters this in a soft warning tone, training his wand on the person.]

Emma Swan ; Once Upon a Time ; option B

[saviourswan]

Emma is definitely not the type to believe in energy or vibes, but as she's walking, she wraps her arms tighter around herself in an attempt to keep warm as the wind blows. When she comes across the crime scene, she stops and frowns at it and the threatening message written in red.

While she worries about him a lot, she can't help but be glad that Henry hasn't gotten himself into this mess yet; Neverland was treating him badly enough, and he doesn't need to be showing up here too. At least she knows that back home he'll be in good hands once he gets back with her parents, with Neal, and yeah even though it'd take a lot for her to say it, even Regina and Hook too. Whereas here, he'd only have her watching out for him, and while she could easily do that, the more eyes on him in a dangerous place the better.

She stays near the crime scene, occasionally pacing a couple of steps one way and then a couple of steps the other way. She wants to jump in and get involved, but this isn't Storybrooke and she isn't sheriff. So she settles for watching everything she can about it.

[ontheotherhand]

Jackson can't technically be considered a part of the police force here-- he's a newcomer, and strangely enough, this place don't take exceedingly well to them-- so he's stuck creeping around the edges of the scene, just like everyone else. He spots Emma doing much the same, and while her manner of dress is different than what he's used to, he can't say she's too bad to look at.

Hell, when has he ever found a woman to be bad to look at? Hardly never, that's when. He's just lit a cigarette, so he takes a drag and exhales before meandering his way over to her, leaning heavily against one of the brick walls. Cleaner than London, he'll give it that.

"Strange, isn't it?" What an opener, right? "You think they'll find the guy?"

Kate Beckett | Castle | Option A

[themuse]

Well, this didn't seem awful. Kate wasn't sure if she would really call herself a fall festival kind of girl - especially when she was stuck in Crazy Land instead of at home, in New York, where she belonged - and she was tempted to just turn around and walk back to where she was staying when she saw the signs.

Her curiosity had overcome her crankiness, though, and she found herself in the midst of it, breathing in the smell of cider and cotton candy and watching a group of kids bob for apples out of an ancient looking barrel. She crossed her arms, trying to fight down a smile of amusement. Everyone seemed so bright, and cheerful, and it bugged her because she didn't belong here but at the same time, it was nice to get lost in it, take a breather and let her mind just stop for a moment. She let her eyes wander around for familiar faces and debated going up to the one of the vendors to get something to drink. The cider smelled okay but what she really wanted was a cup of coffee.

Charlotte Ellison | The Cater Street Hangman | Option B

[thecontrary]

Charlotte watched the scene quietly, from a safe distance. It was a feeble attempt on her part to not look particularly interested, although even her disgust at the situation wasn't enough to dissuade her curiosity. Emily would be horrified no doubt, to know her sister was skirting an alley on Whitechapel Road, only a stone's throw away from the nasty kind of business that had haunted Cater Street before she'd left.

Of course, this was completely different. Not just young women and not garroted - but that in comparison, at least to Charlotte, was no less horrific. Murder was murder and even as she stared on, her fingers pulling at her gloves absentmindedly, she couldn't help but think about the small insights that Inspector Pitt had given her about the misfortunes that occurred in her own realm and wondered if they held true in this one, too. Finally unable to watch any longer, Charlotte took a step back and rounded a wall, leaning against it as she attempted to catch her breath and erase the image that was now burned into her mind. She shouldn't have looked.

[writeswrongs]

While waiting for Beckett to show, Castle gazed around at the crowd, trying to see if any onlookers seemed suspicious. Serial killers liked to hang out at their crime scenes sometimes. Instead he noticed the woman looking like she was about to throw up. He carefully made his way through the crowd to her.

"Are you alright?"

Based on her dress, she was from the same time period as the locals. He imagined that most women during that time weren't accustomed to seeing murder crime scenes. It wasn't exactly the most genteel thing in the world.

Clara Oswald | Doctor Who| A

[bossily]

Clara supposes there's no harm in visiting the festival. She's here, so she might as well enjoy something. She weaves her way through the crowd, going from table to table to admire the things for sale as well as on display. Somehow, she ends up with cider in one hand and candy floss in the other. She sips from her cider and munches on the sweets, the two quickly working together with her usual energy to make her perfectly chipper.

There's children gathered around the games, so she makes her way over there, and ends up being drug into playing pin the nose on the scarecrow at least twenty times. And at some point later, she ends up face first in a barrel of water, attempting to bob for apples. She manages to bite into one and pops upright to stand, sending water flying everywhere as she holds both hands up in the air and gives a little bounce of victory.

After that, it's time for more cider, followed by plenty of looking around and exploring. She never stays in one spot for too long, her attention divided between all the lights and people around her. There's too much to see, too many people to meet, to just stand around.

[neverginger]

"Should I be worried about how good you are at that?"

He means, of course, the pin the nose on the scarecrow game, which, in all of time and space he's never actually encountered. A bit amazing, really. And further proof that this place must exist outside of time and space. Pin the nose on the scarecrow. It's not like there's some copyright on pin the tail on the donkey. Are these people so strange that they've got to change a classic? It's madness, pure madness.

Right, anyway, the Doctor slips over, and puts his grinning face right next to Clara's, so when she pulls down that blindfold, it's the first thing she'll see.

Veronica / Franken Fran / Option B

[stitchedupbodyguard]

The wind was chilly on Veronica's face, her dark cloak doing its job and blocking most of it. She was small in stature, only about fifteen years of age. She had seen things though, lots of things. The scars and stitches on her face revealed that better than any spoken word.

The scent of blood hung in the air like smoke to Veronica. It was fresh, someone newly murdered, not even a day old. She was immediately at the crime scene, observing it at a distance. Watching as the body was taken away, the girl mused over the scene. It was all very sloppy, nothing like what she would have done.

She wondered briefly. None of her family would have done this, at least in this fashion. Perhaps the murderer was somewhere near?

katniss everdeen | the hunger games | option BOTH

[surgo]

[ A ]

[ Honestly, she's a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to fun. With good reason, very good, but that doesn't change the fact that when she walks through the streets and finds the street transformed she eyes it all with a very careful wariness. Celebrations are never something to get excited about.

By the time she makes it to the carnival her mouth is set in a tense, firm line. She's clearly not impressed, but she walks through all the same. She might as well see what all the fuss is about, right? She sticks out like a sore thumb, sour expression a stark difference to..well just about every normal person here, but in all fairness she doesn't much care about not blending in, either. ]

[ B ]

[ She walks, because that's all she can do. She can't sleep here, it's even worse than back home, but the crisp air does a good job of waking her up and keeping her alert. The last thing she wants is to lose sight of things, become complacent, but she's not expecting another murder.

She stays to watch the body taken away, expression carefully neutral as she recognises the mess of curls as someone she'd seen around before. She can't have been much older than Katniss, if at all, and there's nothing quite like seeing people killed off far too young to get that fire started in her again. Just about anything would coax a fight out of her right now, muscles taut as she looks around before demanding an explanation of what happened here of the person nearest to her. Apologies if that happens to be you, because she's not exactly going to be polite about it. ]

Wednesday Addams| The Addams Family | A & B

[drearily]

A

[While everyone else is busy looking around the festival and enjoying things like meaningless consumerism and pointless games, Wednesday has commandeered one of the tables and set up a booth of her own. Scrawled out in a childish painted script is a sign that says:

Madam Morbidity's Murder Maps

Yes, this nine year old is selling maps she's painstakingly drawn and researched of all the area's murders. She's been nice to include bits about ghosts and graveyards, since who wouldn't want to know about those things??

She sits at her table, looking entirely too serious and somber, her eyes lighting up briefly each time someone actually stops to speak with her. A drearily dressed china doll at her side wears a similar linefaced expression, and Wednesday continually consults the thing as if it can actually speak.]


B

[A murder scene usually isn't a place for children.

But this child is bright eyed and all too interested in the investigation unfolding before her. Notes are being jotted down in a leather bound book, and every so often she goes up to the police investigating to tell them what they ought to be doing and how they should be going about doing it. She may only be a child, but any good Addams has seen enough murder reenactments to know what they're talking about.]

[acquiringsatellite]

[Jane's taking a break from the face painting to get some cider when she passes Madam Morbidity. She stops, raises an eyebrow and stifles a laugh. She's disconnected enough that the murders haven't affected her yet, not really, but these maps...even Jane has to admit that it might be a little too soon.

But it's a kid, so she probably doesn't know better.

She picks one up, looking it over and nodding.]

This is good. You draw it?

Jane Margolis | Breaking Bad | Option A

[acquiringsatellite]

[Jane's not really what someone would call festive, but fall's her favorite season (big surprise), and she can get into little carnivals like this. This place hasn't been so bad so far, and the townspeople sent her a letter, asking if she'd do a face painting booth, so of course she'd said yes. It was as close to tattooing she was gonna get, right?

She turns and smiles.]

So, what do you want? A shark or a flower?

Abbie Mills | Sleepy Hollow | Option B

[missleftenant]

[She's itching to shove beyond the yellow tape, flash her badge, get answers. Abbie's straight and to the point, and definitely not used to being nothing more than a civilian.

Would be a good opportunity to have Crane by her side, that's for sure. He'd know how to navigate this mess of a place, and doesn't he kinda owe her? After all, she's been teaching him about all the good, modern stuff. Only right that he should hang around this mess with her. But no, they've officially switched roles completely now. He remains the fish out of water at home, and she's... here.

Abbie watches the body being carried off and... yeah. No. Crazy to hear herself think it, but she'd rather go back to horsemen and witches at this point. At least back home she'd still have some authority if dead bodies start turning up.

Still, she hangs around, keeps her eyes on the details like only law enforcement is prone to do. Evaluating, puzzling - not gawking. Messages written in blood, dead bodies, yeah, just try to keep her away, because she's sane like that.]

They let any info slip?

[Said to the nearest person, because it's always possible someone overheard something before she arrived, short legs and all.]

[hauntedbydeath]

[A relief washes over him as he sees a familiar face close to the crime scene. He instantly reprimands himself for such a response. She shouldn't be here, wherever here happens to be. She is as lost as he ever was. He should never wished that on her, but yet he is grateful to no longer be alone. This all much be so alien to her and all he can do is show her as best he can. She was willing enough to do when he was in need.

He pushed his way forward until he could casually slide beside her while her focus is still on the crime scene. Always the detective.]

They rarely do. Policeman can be so impersonal and impossible to get along with I've found.

[He clasped his hands behind his back and tried not to smile like a cheeky child.]

[ooc: I bet you already have an Ichabod, but I couldn't help myself. Feel free to ignore my random invasion.]

Edward Elric | Fullmetal Alchemist | Either, but writing up A

[equivalent_trade]

Edward was making his way through the carnival, a stuffed animal prize tucked under one arm, candy apple gripped in one hand, and a cup of hot chocolate in the other. He'd just finished stuffing some kind of sweet, fried cake into his mouth. In short, he showed all the outward indicators of having a complete blast -- except for the expression on his face, which could only be described as 'put-upon'.

He should be doing something constructive, not wandering around this dumb kids' fair. Stalking past rows of stalls, he came to a stop in front of a strength-testing game, staring it down as if it were a personal affront to him.

"Probably rigged," he grumbled under his breath.

morgana pendragon | merlin | option a

[contrasted]

[ Morgana feels out of place, and also looks it. Although her dress is beautiful, simple but well made and of the finest materials, it doesn't fit with the style of those from the ladies around her. She's trying to keep her uncertainty, her feeling and knowing of being out of place from her expression. She's the Lady Morgana - a noble, and she lets people know what she wants them to know.

She's looking around, trying to see what this place is, to find a familiar face that may be able to help her. There are none, obviously, although Morgana certainly isn't alone here. It doesn't mean that she's quite so defenseless, just confused. One thing she does know, though, is that this is a fair of some kind, even if the practices in it are a little strange. It's enough to get her walking, for her to look around and hopefully find someone - or some help ]

[bamboozled]

[Yeah, don't worry Morgana, you're not the only one who sticks out like a sore thumb. While pretty much everyone else has embraced the whole pseudo-VIctorian thing-- some have even gone full Victorian-- Jeff refuses to give up his Italian leather jacket. And his Italian jeans. And his Italian shoes. Why couldn't have this place been Italy again? That's the real question here.

Anyway, whatever, Jeff's always willing to help a woman in need, especially one as smokin' hot as this one is.]

You uh, come here often?

nico di angelo ☠ pjo ☠ option a

[evoco]

[Nico isn't really one for parties or gatherings. They're not really his thing, and he'd much rather be off poking his nose somewhere it doesn't belong. But now that he's here... well, he's here. The fourteen-year-old adjusts his bomber jacket, sword of black Stygian iron hanging from his chain belt, and wanders around. Like everyone else, he looks a trifle out of place, and he can't hide the fact that he really doesn't want to be here.

But part of him is hopeful about, just maybe, discovering a clue or a big piece of the puzzle to getting back home. So, here he is. Wandering. Hopefully not into anyone.]

[missleftenant]

[Crane's around here, somewhere. Abbie is fairly sure of that, despite the seemingly impossible matter of losing the walking, stiffly talking bean stalk in the masses. It shouldn't be that hard to find him, long as he is, but well, here she is, and Crane is quite clearly somewhere else entirely.

Usually, she's much more aware of her surroundings, swear on the badge and everything. But the thing is, she's just a bit distracted by trying to spit a a tall man who fits into this time period entirely too well to be spotted with as much ease as back home.

It's because of this that she finds herself turning around sharply only to smack right into another person.

Abbie kinda hates carnivals, and she blames it entirely on the eternal struggle of her (lack of) height versus big crowds. Not exactly like she can flash her badge here, either.]

Sorry, didn't really look where I was going there.

Elizabeth Burke | White Collar | Option A

[spousal_immunity]

[She knew something was not right when she woke, but nothing was immediately obvious.Satchmo and Peter were nowhere to be found, but perhaps they were just out. El put on her coat and shoes and stepped outside, wary, but not showingvher concern. Perhaps Peter was at the carnival, and she was worried over nothing.]

[acquiringsatellite]

[Jane's been all over the carnival tonight, visiting booths and stalls and games. Everyone's seemed like they're having a good time, except for a few teenage wastelands, here and there. This woman is the first she's seen who looks worried, though.

Jane approaches, and smiles.]

Hey, you looking for something? You look like you need some help.

Mary Morstan Watson | Ritchie!Sherlock | Option B

[notanadventuress]

Oh dear. One minute she's in England, trying to ignore the fact that Mr. Holmes the elder was running around in his birthday suit after his brother tossed her off her train, and the next she's waking up in a house and the atmosphere is as Gothic as any horrid novel.

She was studying the announcement board, her bonnet firmly tied onto her head, hands behind her back, careful to keep her eyes and ears open, but not to attract too much attention.

[tessa_gray]

Tessa tried not to look relieved when she noticed someone who was, if not familiar to her, had an air of familiarity and home. The woman's dress and bonnet was of a style she recognized, similar enough to her own that she might have stepped off a street in London as well.

Moving toward the message board, her steps faltered as she saw the message scrawled across the handbills, dread settling coldly in her stomach. "Blood." The word is whispered softly despite Tessa's attempts to keep the thought to herself. "What sort of place have we found ourselves in?"

The Doctor ⑨ ¤ Doctor Who ¤ Option A

[andformynexttrick]

He's been wandering around this little place for a bit now. New here, yes, but he doesn't stick out too badly. Well, other then the leather coat that is. He's curious though, because this place isn't anywhere he has seen before, and he doesn't have any idea where his TARDIS is. Or where this is, for that matter. He's pretty sure it's Earth at least.

All things considered, he shouldn't be here, or perhaps he should. Maybe there was something here he needed to do. Maybe not. Who knows, it could be a fluke! Nonetheless, he was here and he was wandering. Following signs towards a festival of some sort.

A large goofy smile spread across his face as he saw it. "Fantastic." The Doctor said when he got sight of it. How quaint. He seemed to perk up a bit as he wandered, looking over but not playing any of the games. No point in any of it, really, but it was great to people watch.

He'd always liked people watching.

[acquiringsatellite]

Jane's been getting some good traffic at her booth-- face painting, of course-- mostly local kids and some of the more adventurous adults, but she's hit a bit of a lull. Maybe people are like, scared of her or something, or maybe they just don't want their faces painted. Whatever, it's no big deal to her. She's perfectly happy to sit and watch people walk by and try to guess which ones aren't locals.

And oh, that guy? With the leather coat and the ears? Definitely not local.

"Hey, leather coat." She says it loud enough that he can (hopefully) hear her, but still not disturb the activity around them. "You want your face painted?"

Steve Rogers | The Avengers | Option A

[savesthedance]

Steve was the type to keep busy. Even though he wasn't home, that instinct to do something hadn't left him. He was a soldier. He was supposed to be doing something. Going to a festival wasn't exactly what he had in mind, either.

Given the nature of this strange place, it was almost nostalgic to wander around the festival. Everything resembled a time long past, one he thought he was long pulled from. One he thought he would never see again. Sure, maybe his time could be better served trying to find a way home, but after he actually got there and saw it, he decided enjoying himself for a little while couldn't hurt.

[agtcarter]

A festival wasn't something Peggy expected to find here. Nothing felt right about this place. She hadn't found a way out yet and there was no one in charge that Peggy could talk to. It might do her some good to find a distraction for a while so she decided to take a look around and see what was on offer for her to participate in.

Something glinting on the ground catches Peggy's eye and she looked down to inspect it, her attention briefly drawn away from what was in front of her. She collided with someone mere seconds later, almost knocked off her feet as a result. Luckily for Peggy, she reached out to steady herself, grabbing a hold of the person's arm.

She glanced up, preparing to apologise but it doesn't exactly go to plan. "Steve? I don't understand, what are you-?"