whitechapelmod | 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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Yeah, she's well aware, and not happy about it. The stares she's getting are definitely not something Abbie can put up with for however long she'll be trapped here. Which, she reminds herself, might well be permanently. They didn't know how to get Crane back in time either, who says she can go forward to where she belongs anytime soon?

Which, to be frank, really sucks. No offense to his times, but Abbie's not sure if she wants to put up with the downsides long-term. He better find something to reconcile her with this day and age.

But hey, at least now she gets to complain about the things to him instead of vice versa. Silver linging, here we go.

Abbie watches his movements with a frown, then nods. If it were modern times she'd wonder if someone used the victim's hands, or anyone's unwilling hands, to accomplish this and avoid leaving dna traces or finger prints. But in this day and age? She explains as much to Crane and adds:]

Could be someone who lacks perfect control of their hand, too. But both options would take considerably more time, and then why leave the message in the first place.

((ooc: Oh, thank you so much! This is my first time playing her, I really hardly know what I'm doing. I'd be delighted to have a good Ichabod to play off of! Who were you gonna reserve originally?))

[They would have to get her some proper clothing soon and papers. This wasn't the states, but he'd feel more comfortable if she had proof of her right to be here. Suddenly, he feared for her, not only because they were in a different time, but because she was going to go through so much. Things were different in this time and in ways neither of them would like.

It's much easier and much simpler to think of the murder.[

It could be symbolic. If they made the victim write it, before they were murdered, it would be a very intense fear tactic. It'd serve a duel purpose as well, to the victim and the public.

[ooc: I'm glad you think my Ichabod is good. It's my first go around, literally first post, but I've been playing with the idea of picking him up for a while. And I was going to reserve Jack Harkness from Torchwood. He's my go to guy for new games.]

[Oh, Abbie's all with him on that. Avoiding the bigger, pressing thoughts about this situation and its implications given her gender, the color of her skin, and where she's really from, by focusing on bloody murder? Yeah, sign her up. She's gonna avoid the elephant in the room for as long as she can, thank you very much.

Abbie gestures at the wall]

Definitely would have taken some time then. Might be worth making polite conversations with the neighbours. People could've seen something helpful.

[Not that she'd ever suggest underminding the police and engaging in some investigations themselves... except that might be exactly what she's insinuating, with a pointed look at Crane that she knows she doesn't have to explain in detail.]

((ooc: we're in the same boat there, this is her very first thread for me, too ^^ ))

Edited 2013-11-30 06:06 (UTC)

[He felt protectiveness wash over him as he started to realize the danger she was in. No harm would come to her, he'd swear to that. He'd do everything he could and more to keep her safe. This was his home time even if this was not the right place.]

Yes I suppose I could call on them,[He hates how pointedly he must say I, because until they can come up with a story and a new dress for her, it was better for her not to be seen publically too often.] although they will be receiving many visitors. It would be more prudent to talk to the people more likely to be on the street.

[ooc: I wouldn't have guessed. It's beautiful.]

[Abbie'd be a little flustered if she knew that, admittedly. Oh, she's a big girl, willing and able to brave any oncoming storm on her own. Has been doing so since childhood, fighting for her own survival... and yes, sometimes at he expense of others. But to have someone watching her back is still a novelty. Crane's not the first, but he's arguably quickly become the most important, and Abbie secretly dreads the day when that's not something she can have anymore, selfishly perhaps. Grating as he can be, Crane's also a dear friend, family by choice, and one of the few she feels comfortable trusting with her own well-being.

Strange, how that happened. She's growing soft, clearly, and refuses to admit to anyone that it might not be a bad thing, either.]

What, you mean prostitutes?

[Oh, is she qualified to talk to them? Awesome. Also trust Abbie to be tactlessly blunt. It's part of the charm, hard as that may be for Crane to believe.]

((ooc: Oh thank you, so much! I still feel very insecure with her voice, but I'm glad I seem to be doing her some semblance of justice.))

[His cheeks flushed red at the blunt word and he turned away. He tightened his lips and made sure that no one else had heard. Luckily, everyone else was also talking.]

Street children perhaps, thieves and the rest of the underbelly. Working...girls possibly...[His cheeks still flamed and he coughed uncomfortably. Honestly, Abbie.]

We should, huh, move on. You're getting some attention.

[He put his hand discretely on her lower back and did his best to guide her to turn around and start walking, but he knew how stubborn she could be.]

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