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

[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.

[It says something when the fourteen-year-old has five inches on you. Which, honestly, he's not all that used to. Demigods tend to be on the tall side. Mostly. Nico blinks at Abbie, recognizing a little calm authority in her voice, and then shrugs.

He's just glad she didn't bump into his sword's blade.]

Don't worry about it. It's a big crowd.

[He may look a little sulky. But that's because he always looks a little sulky.]

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