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

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?"

"Someplace dire, I would suppose, miss."

As much as he skin crawled from the blood smeared over the bills, it wouldn't do to dissolve in hysterics. She was of sturdy stock, not given to vapors. But she did pale a little at hearing the confirmation of the fact that she wasn't seeing things in her disorientation.

"Gray." The name was spoken automatically. "Recently from London." But now... This place looked similar enough to Jem's beloved England that Tessa might believe that was where she was now. Except that even before finding blood soaked handbills, there were too many strange things that gave the unsettling impression that she was somewhere far more dangerous.

Noticing how pale the other woman had become, Tessa reaches to touch her arm, then reconsiders. "Are you all right?"

Mary waved off Tessa, not being rude, but not needing assistance. "I'm fine, thank you. Just a little disturbed by this entire situation, Miss Gray. I'm Mrs. Watson and I would prefer us to have met under better circumstances."

Mary smiled, warm and steadying. It would be best if she continued to not dissolve in hysterics.

"As would I." Better circumstances would have been preferred but it seemed that most of Tessa's introductions recently have been marred by violence of some sort.

A few months ago, the sight of blood would have horrified her and even though it still did, the need to stop whoever had caused this desecration was stronger than her fear. "Do you think that the authorities have been contacted?" Or perhaps others who protected the innocents of this place but might not do so publicly... if such people existed here.

"If they have not been contacted, that should be rectified, immediately." Mary sniffed, as she cast a glance around the street, stepping back from the board in a slight rustle of skirts.

"It would be best if we were not to be separated, Miss Gray. Shall we go and seek the authorities? Or someone else who could assist us?"

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