whitechapelmod | TEST DRIVE

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test drive

TEST DRIVE

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!

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[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...]

[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.]

[Jesse, too, has hopped all aboard the paranoid express; just because he hasn't done anything wrong here doesn't mean--

Well, whatever, he is who he is, and who he is is a person who's extremely disinclined toward dealing with law enforcement. Hence the glance over his shoulder that almost results in a collision. He doesn't see the dude until he's right up on him, and while he's able to skid backwards a few steps to avoid an entirely unfriendly chest bump, the jolt of surprise is enough to make him drop his cigarette; it lands in a puddle, too, because that's the kind of day this is gonna be.

(And yes, he'd absolutely have picked it up otherwise. Waste not, or whatever.)]

Shit--! [And then he freezes, because "stop where you are" really sounds like cop-speak--

Expect that this dude's got, what the hell is that, a stick? Seriously? Whatever it is, it's not a gun, and so he sets his jaw, squares his shoulders defensively and glares at the guy from under the brim of his hood.]

What the hell, man?

[Severus takes stock of the situation. Glances down at the cigarette that smoulders in the puddle for just a moment before extinguishing to blackness with a weak plume of smoke. Looks back up to the hooded figure. Standing at just over six feet tall, Severus uses his height to his advantage and takes a swift step in, looming over the hooded man.

At the same time, he sharply jabs the end of his wand against the man's shoulder, his pale face pinched into a menacing expression of mistrust. Not that there's much light in the dark alleyway, especially while the afternoon is fast fading into dusk.]

'What the hell' indeed.

[The sound of a siren wailing cuts into the air. Severus looks over the man's shoulder down the other end of the alleyway. Sees a police vehicle whizzing by. He cuts his attention back onto the man again. His eyes narrow.]

Where do you think you're slinking off to?

[The guy steps forward and while Jesse registers the height, he doesn't shrink away or flinch, he doesn't even blink. Dude's tall, so what?

He does hiss when he's poked in the shoulder with that stupid stick, though- either the guy's psychic or Jesse's just that unlucky; while not exactly sharp, having the tip of anything jabbed into a slowly healing bruise hurts, and Jesse scowls as he slaps it away.]

Watch it, yo, Jesus-- And I don't gotta tell you jack, what're you, the hall monitor? [He scoffs.] Where're you slinking off to?

[This guy's authoritarian attitude... It's like nails on a chalkboard, and Jesse already has a headache.]

[Noticing the man's grimace of pain, Severus lets his wand be pushed away - though, he doesn't like the way the man speaks to him: the obnoxious attitude, the careless manner of speech, the sheer rudeness. And when the man demands to know where Severus is going, Severus opens his mouth to respond but hesitates when he hears (and sees) another police car speeding by.]

It's not me who's slinking away from law enforcement with my face obscured-- [At this, he dashes a hand up and snatches the man's hood, yanking it back to reveal his identity.]

[That obnoxious attitude is here to stay (and more!), and he's not sorry at all.

Nor is he sorry for the shove that he responds with as he jerks away with a grunt.]

Back the fuck up, asshole! [He reaches up to straighten his collar, fuming, though he doesn't move to pull his hood back up. What's it to him if this douchebag sees his face? He didn't do anything.] God. You a cop? Cuz that's police brutality and I got rights, bitch.

[Overreaction? Maybe, but after being here for days, after being clean for days with nary a fix in sight, well... He's not feeling particularly forgiving of invasions of his very personal space, and he's certainly not in the mood for any goddamn alleyway interrogations.]

[He'd more or less expected the man, based on his demeanour, to jerk away from him, but the language that spills out of that mouth of his. Pressing his lips into a thin, terse line, Severus' nostrils flare with indignation. Quick as a flash - and Severus is fast, thanks to years of magical duelling - he points his wand right at the impertinent little sod with a small, flourishing flick.]

Everte Statum.

[He says the incantation calmly, coldly. A pulse of white energy shoots out from its tip; a hex that causes a short burst of sharp pain akin to having one's head slammed with something hard and metallic, but no actual damage or concussion; nothing beyond usually causing the target to stumble while feeling momentarily stunned.]

[Jesse notes that change in expression, that indignant, offended press of lips, and there's a definite flush of pride (or at least satisfaction) across his face- serves you right, bitch- that lingers up until the very second that the light flashes and some unseen force slams into him hard enough that his vision goes white.

And stumble he does-- he yelps at the "blow", swift and hollow and ringing like some major league slugger just hit a home run with his fucking head, and all but folds into himself as he clutches at the side of his head, letting out a stream of nearly unintelligible swears.

When he straightens, his eyes are wild and watering slightly. Whatever kind of retaliation he was expecting, that... Wasn't it.]

Jesus Christ, what the hell's your problem? What the hell is that thing, yo, like-- like some kinda taser? Did you just taze me?? Ugh--

[t's probably the most unfortunate possible reaction, given the reason for Severus's offense... But sorry not sorry, bro, that fucking hurt.]

[Just as this young, insufferable man found satisfaction in rousing offence from Severus, Severus finds a sense of satisfaction at watching him be momentarily thrown and stunned by the jinx. The expletives that file out of the man's mouth in response leave little to be desired - but Severus ignores it this time, distasteful though he finds it.]

No idea what a taser is, but let's just say that what I did to you just then was me being kind compared to what I could do to you.

[Lucky for the young man, Severus has no interest in exacting worse on him. At least, not unless the man proves himself to be dangerous, which he hasn't yet. The police can deal with him, if he's the cause of whatever the drama unfolding out on the street is - and Severus is prejudiced enough to suspect the man has something to do with it. As yet another siren wails to life while a police car drives past the alleyway, Severus snatches the front of the man's jumper and shoves him in the direction of where the police cars have been driving by.]

Get moving.

Watch it-- Jesus! [He shuffles forward with a low, frustrated grunt, but it's as if his feet are made of lead; he'll move, alright, but he has no intention of making it quick. He'll take his sweet ass time, thanks.

But with each step, he becomes visibly more agitated, shoulders more tense as he pauses every time another car whizzes by. It feels terribly like he's being led to a firing squad, despite the fact that he knows he's totally innocent. ...With this, at least. They gotta have some kind of justice system here, right? They can't just throw him in jail without a trial or whatever, can they? Ugh...

You know what? No, fuck this. When he reaches the end of the alley, right before stepping out onto the street, he stops and turns to face Severus again, crossing his arms and refusing to budge. His ears are ringing, sure, but this is crap.]

Come on, man, this is like the biggest waste of time ever. I don't even know what happened over there, I didn't do shit! I'm like-- I'm like a bystander, or whatever. You know, wrong place wrong time? I didn't even see anything!

[He's getting the very distinct sinking feeling this guy doesn't give even an iota of a fuck whether he's actually responsible or not, but he really, really doesn't wanna deal with cops and so he'll suck it up and plead his case. ...He eyes the street anyway, though, trying to remember what the layout is; worst case scenario, he'll bounce.

He's skinny and young, he can outrun this fucking old man, definitely...]

[Jane just got here like, a week ago or something. She hadn't even really had time to settle in before there was that crazy announcement on the board about the murder. Some kid, some helpless kid that delivered the milk! He was one of the first one's she met when she got here. She can't stop sketching his face, and now... now another one. It's messed up.

She's trying to avoid the scene, but there was supposed to be a message waiting for her on the board. She finds a completely different one, though, and she turns away, a dry heave building in her stomach, just in time to see Jesse slip down an alleyway. But...Jesse can't be here, right? She's been here a week and she hadn't found him yet? She realizes she's running toward it when she's already halfway there, and catches herself on the corner, peering in. She smiles.]

Hey, can I get one of those?

[He hears the footsteps. Hears them, and quickens his own pace in an attempt to lose whoever the hell's on his ass. He was looking for entertainment, not some kinda corner gossip about something he's probably gonna get blamed for.

Well okay, that might be a little (or a lot) dramatic, but he's paranoid, okay? He's still not entirely convinced this isn't some kind of fucked up cartel initiation, or some stupid bullshit mind game Gus or Mr. White or whoever the fuck is setting him up with. The logical part of his brain knows he's not worth that (and that's not even his self esteem talking- no one is worth that, the kind of money and manpower or whatever it'd take to make this work) but if it's not that, then... Then what? Why bring him here...? It doesn't compute, he doesn't follow, mayday mayday whatever.

Tl;dr, he doesn't wanna be caught within fifty miles of wherever those cars are headed. Fuck that. And fuck whoever's following him, too. Yeah, fuck them, he's just gonna turn around and tell them what's what, just so's they know to get.

Out of his-- face.

He's mid-spin when the voice the narrow alleyway carries to him really hits him, really sinks in, and he feels like he's about to fall over with the force of turning all the way around. To see.

And stare, apparently. Because that's all he can do. No words, not even a step closer, just... Stare. Gape, really, that's more like it, open-mouthed gaping like a complete asshole with his heart thudding in his chest so hard he could swear it's drowning out the sirens.

And she's smiling.]

[She's smiling, but it's definitely faltering with the way Jesse's acting right now. He looks different; shaken, pale, and kind of gape-y, to be honest. Open-Mouthed Man. That'd be his superhero name. Her face twists with worry as she takes a step forward, into the alley.]

Hey, Jesse, you alright?

[This death thing's pretty intense, and he's always been....sensitive. Not in a bad way! She likes it, really. But, still. It wouldn't surprise her.]

You look like you've seen a ghost or something.

I, uh-- [He clears his throat, both to dislodge his heart (which seems to have, you know, become lodged in there at some point) and to buy himself a few extra seconds. His brain's working a mile a minute but unfortunately for him (and probably Jane, since it's gotta be awkward with him just... Standing there like that) it's not providing him with any insight he can use. Actually, it's not providing him with much at all, just a whole lot of brain static, completely useless except for the way he guesses it's making his limbs feel cold and twitchy.

This can't be real. It just-- It just can't. There's no way, it's gotta be a trick or a hallucination, or maybe he's got a brain tumor and he's losing his mind or something. Because his eyes are telling him Jane and that just can't be right. She's gotta be a mirage, some sort of optical illusion like that shimmer in the desert that looks like water even when it isn't. It never is, no matter how bad you need it...

Except... She doesn't disappear, when he steps closer. Which he does, eventually, after just enough time to make it horrendously awkward even to his half-sensibilities, forcing his limbs to move by willpower alone until he's made it over to her. Somewhere along the line his mouth closes: good for the gaping look, not so much for the whole talking thing... Not that he's feeling brave enough to speak anyway. He doesn't trust himself to do it, not without completely losing his shit, and so in lieu of a verbal response he reaches out to pull her into a tight hug.

He's gonna have to explain things. And, like, tell her things. Eventually. Not this second, though. For this second there's nothing but his shaking arms wrapped around her shoulders and the scent of her hair, exactly the way he remembers.]

Hey. [Her voice is soft when she speaks, because she's not blind, she can see that he's pretty freaked out, and she can see and feel his arms shaking. She wraps her arms around him, firmer and more stable than he has. He seems like he needs it right about now.

She leans her forehead against his, smiling again.]

I didn't think I'd find you here.

I didn't-- I didn't, uh- [Didn't think he'd find her here, again, ever. Didn't think he'd feel this again: her arms, her breath on his face, her hair brushing against his cheek as she leans her forehead against his, any of it. Didn't think places like this existed and if they did, he sure as hell didn't think he'd be going there. Not after what he's done...

Even if he can't even bring himself to feel guilty right now.

He clears his throat again.] Oh, god-- um. [His voice wavers no matter now hard he tries to keep it steady. The king of smooth, right here, but he just can't. The brain capacity for whatever kind of front he may want to put up just isn't there; it only occurs to him now, belatedly, that somewhere between there where Jane wasn't and here where Jane is, he's dropped his cigarette. Which is probably for the best, considering the way both of his hands are sliding into her hair, settling over her ears without any conscious thought of dropping the flaming thing before doing it. She'll never know how close she came to needing matching haircuts today.

Before, he might have hesitated, made some kind of wisecrack complete with shit-eating grin before tipping his head and leaning in for a kiss. He'd probably have even waited, just a half-second, to give her a shot at some token resistance since he knows she's into that (and so is he).

That isn't what happens now, though; the way he presses his lips against hers now isn't like that at all, nor is it the kind of confidence or boldness it might appear to be. It's all desperation, this time around, quicker than blinking because even though he can feel her body, warm through however many layers, a part of him is still terrified that if he doesn't move quickly enough she'll be gone.]

[Whoa. There is something seriously wrong. Not-- not with him-- well, okay, maybe a little with him-- but with-- just-- everything. This is supposed to be happy, right? The last time she saw him he'd seemed pretty stressed, pretty fucked up, but nothing compared to this. This is really freaking her out, and Jane's not easily shaken. Not by a long shot.]

Hey, hey, you're okay. [Her hands slide up and through his short hair. She meets his kiss, trying to match the feeling, but probably failing. A hand rests on his cheek, thumb swiping over the bone as she pulls away-- but not too far.]

I'm here, you know that? I'm right here.

[He's happy. He's ridiculously, unbelievably happy... And therein lies the problem. That doesn't go well for him, it doesn't last, not the way he needs it to. Not lately, anyway. Not for a long time.

And so it's dangerous, letting himself feel it again when he knows in his gut that it's not gonna end well. It can't, not with him. A bit of the guilt creeps back in- why should he have this?- but horribly (wonderfully), her fingers sliding through his hair (or relative lack thereof, how the hell's he gonna explain that?) chase it away almost as quickly as it'd sprung up, pushing all thoughts of his many failings from his mind. In their place, a tingling warmth settles deep in his chest at the brush of her thumb against his cheek, and it stays there even after she pulls away, enough to give him that extra push to finally form coherent syllables, words, an actual sentence:]

Yeah. Yeah, you're here. [...Not much of a sentence, and certainly lacking in originality, but he repeats it after her like a mantra, like saying it out loud will make it permanent.] How long?

[Hours, days, months? Has she been here since--

Don't think about that.]

Almost a week, I think. [Since the first one, she wants to say, but she doesn't need to. He'll know. He was always good at that reading her mind thing. She appreciated it a lot. Appreciates. They haven't been apart that long, right? Right. Why does it feel so long? Why is he acting like it's been years or something? Why is his hair super short?

She has a lot of questions, but in her mind, they've got all the time in the world. They can't leave this place, they're stuck here. Together. It sounds perfect to her.]

You?

Four days, five, maybe... I kinda lost track. [He lets his eyes slip closed with a sigh, finally recovering his ability to breathe and think semi-normally.] It, uh-- It feels like a lot longer.

[She can probably tell that, though- he's being weird and he knows it... Though whether he has control over it or not is a different story.

Eventually he lets one hand drop to her shoulder, squeezing it lightly as it finally starts to really sink in that she's not going anywhere. The other slides forward, curving over her jaw as he brushes a stray eyelash from her cheekbone.]

You look... [Beautiful, warm, happy, alive. Not like-- Not like the last time he saw her.] You look great.

[He smiles, then, but as small subdued as it is, it's completely genuine-- the first in a long while.]

...Digging the jacket.

[How is it that they got here at the same time but hadn't found each other until today? This place is tiny, but Jane guesses she didn't really go looking for him or anything. And he's acting like she's the last person he expected to find here, so maybe it's not that weird. Maybe she's making something out of nothing.]

Yeah, time really drags in this place, huh?

[It's so quiet and like, chill. Nice, but off-putting sometimes. Way less off-putting with him here, definitely. She laughs softly and kisses him, brief.]

Thanks. I got it from some store on the main street. The woman practically gave it to me for free.

[For one of her weird coin things. She's not really sure what they're worth, but whatever, it's an awesome jacket.]

[Now that she's right here in front of him, it strikes him how stupid it was not to look for her... Hindsight being what it is, he'll be kicking himself for a long time over that week he could have spent here, with her instead of by himself watching the last of his crystal peter away for lack of anything else to do with himself.

He'll just have to make up for it, he supposes. Not all of the lost time... But some.]

That's that "small town charm", I guess.

[He's not charmed. Or wasn't. He is now.

And brief though it is, that kiss drains some of the lingering tension from his shoulders; when she pulls away that tiny smile of his will have grown a bit.]

Yeah, for like a coin thing, right? They look like Chuck E Cheese tokens but everybody here's pretty stoked about them. [He pats his pocket.] I got like a carton of cigarettes for one, the guy looked like he was about to have an aneurism when I tried to give him more than that...

[He was also a bit less than thrilled when Jesse tried to pay with, like, actual money... Weirdo.]

So where've you been staying? Place ain't that big, I don't know how I-- [Missed you? Yeah, no, he knows exactly how he missed her...] --you know. "It's a small world," et cetera...

[She hadn't wanted to think about it, but the look on his face was definitely a little bit more than 'haunted'. It'd been haunted and strung out, and she knows he smokes, but he'd been doing better, recently, right?]

Yeah, a coin thing. Think I'll start a tattoo parlor to earn more of them. What do you think?

[There's an easy grin for you, Jesse, and don't mind that it's trying to compensate for the cold, empty feeling this place gives off.]

Uh, that place...Ms. White's. It's free, just have to do chores.

[He is trying (desperately and unsuccessfully) to forget that yeah, he's a little strung out. It's not like she hadn't seen him that way before- he'd been so fucking stupid about it at the condo- but knowing what he does now, how easy it was for everything to go wrong... He wishes he could take back all those times he'd let her in after smoking up.

But he can't. All he can do now is try to keep his shit together and be as subtle about it as possible until he's all amped out.]

Yeah-- Yeah, that's awesome. [He returns that grin. God he's missed seeing that...] Totally liven the place up a little, loosen the town's collective tie or whatever. I like it. [And to her response, he nods.] Right, right. I checked that one out too, but I ended up going over to the apartments. They wanted two of those coins and that was it. More space, you know...?

[He's gonna go with that as the reason he hadn't spotted her, instead of the daze he'd been existing in since being dropped off here.] ...You painted up the walls of your place yet? Back home you had that mural...

[The unfinished one.]

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TEST DRIVE

Jesse Pinkman | Breaking Bad | B

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...yes perfect 8D

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I'm cruel, I'm sorry

OH MY GOD SO CRUEL but I still love you /grabby grabby grabby

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