bumfuckidaho | test drive meme, june 2017

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test drive meme, june 2017

TEST DRIVE MEME

There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before waking up.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed, and the nursing staff greet you with cheerful smiles.

Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Where is here? Why, home in Wayward Pines, of course!

option one
WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES

The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.

That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.

Unless you're asking for directions out of town, of course.

Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest sign posted near the doorway of every building.

Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while before looping around and bringing you right back in.

There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.

(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)

option two
INTO THE WOODS

You've just heard a scream from the woods.

I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully... human.

Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.

The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.

Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.

What you will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.

In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.

Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?

option three
FOURTH OF JULY

If there's one thing to be said for Wayward Pines it's the town's resilience and staunch refusal to give up on the image of a picturesque little town, and July 4th this year has the community putting it's best foot forward in this regard with its annual 4th of July picnic and fireworks spectacular.

To hear anyone (Linda) familiar with the town talk (complain), this year is a much more sedate affair than any of the years prior, but in a lot of ways today is a very good opportunity for people to reconnect with their neighbors; chat quietly at a table, share a recipe, play some catch, or argue with Jerry over the proper way too cook a burger. Jerry never listens, of course, but thankfully the whole event is a pot luck so there are plenty of other, far more edible options for those with a more... discerning palate.

The day passes pleasantly, and the night? The night brings the fireworks. A beautiful cascade of bright colors and lights in the sky. Sparklers are handed out like party favors while everyone is strongly encouraged to play safe by a long-suffering and weary looking sheriff. After all, the town has had quite enough excitement by this point, don't you think?

option four
ON THE NETWORK

Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.

Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network currently has two basic functions. The first is audio-only and can be accessed from the telephones in each character's home. If an audio-based medium doesn't suit your needs (or aesthetics), be sure to take advantage of the Wayward Pines Message Board from your brand new laptop for the chance to communicate with your fellow townspeople!

( a few notes )

Welcome to our fifth test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note:

Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.

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Option Three

No. [Before you can even finish whatever boring, insipid line you were spouting, Margo holds her hand up in front of your face. No eye contact, no follow up, no interest whatsoever.

If you continue trying to talk to her, she will proceed to roll her eyes and sigh.]

Listen, sweetie, I'm only at this sad excuse for a party to score enough over the counter medication to make it through the next few days without offing myself or anyone in a five foot radius out of spite and deep-set rage due to the fact that I am currently in Idaho. You can either walk away now and save yourself a verbal flaying, or you can be a dear and get me more cough syrup for this red, solo cup.

[Margo smiles, sending metaphorical, and physical, chills through the heart of anyone that sees it.]

Thaaaaaaaaaaaanks. You're a doll.

Option Four - UN: Queenbitch

OK, bumpkins. I don't make this offer lightly or often, but I will blow the first person to get me a ride out of here so hard that you'll literally hit the ceiling.

Male, female, animal, mineral, or otherwise. Just get me the hell out of here.

[ Alice watches this exchange, watches the would-be suitor retreat, and for a few seconds she grapples with an odd, seething feeling that's more than the anger she's been feeling for the past few days. It's the kind of rage that would make her slap this woman if she was in reach, but she doesn't know why.

She's sick and tired of not knowing why. ]

Taking a break from blowing your way out of Idaho? I guess that's not working as well as you hoped.

I've stopped hoping for things altogether.

[Margo turns towards the searing, white-hot flames of rage wearing glasses and a short skirt. Alice. Of course it's Alice.]

Makes things less disappointing when shit goes south in an inevitable, explosive way.

[You'd think they'd know that by now. Enjoy something too much and someone will find a way to take it from you. Memories are fleeting at the moment, but one thing Margo does remember is the expression on Alice's face as she sat at the edge of the bed.]

Are you here to watch the fireworks?

[ That isn't the reaction she wanted. She's not sure what reaction she did want, but that wasn't it. It wasn't... Margo, in the way that Margo is supposed to be Margo.

It wasn't mean enough. ]

I'm here because Penny made me come.

[Thanks, Alice. If you wanted someone to lash out at you and be combative, that someone is surprisingly not Margo. Not with Alice. Not after what she did. Remorse and guilt don't come as easily to Margo anymore, but she feels it full force knowing she wronged someone that could have been a friend.

Her expression is indecipherable as always. A mask of cold, calculated indifference that keeps people guessing, usually giving her the upper hand. She looks Alice over, feeling a budding concern that she doesn't dare project.]

Well, in that case, we should probably ditch him and have some fun while he runs around frantically looking for you. He'll do that angry scurrying thing he does, it'll be great. Come on.

[She does smile now. Small, but genuine as she reaches out to take Alice by the wrist.]

[ STARE. Margo, you really remind Jefferson of some royals he's met in his time. Like Regina, minus the all-around evil she had going for her. Or... hopefully minus that evil. He's just going to look down at her cup, then shift his gaze back to her face. He's frowning, looking unimpressed. Or pouty and huffy. Maybe a mixture of all of the above? ]

You're not the only one who doesn't want to be here, you know.

Edited 2017-06-17 23:18 (UTC)

Oh, I believe it. The whole town should want to mass exodus, that's not the distinction.

[She tilts her head, raising her shoulder and feigning a coyness that she hopes will find its way under Jefferson's skin.] I just want it more than you.

[And you, Jefferson, remind her of a less confident, less charismatic, less vivacious version of someone she holds very dear to her heart. He gets a very slow, appraising look as she lifts her drink to her lips.] Nice outfit.

[ She might be correct in that assessment. Jefferson knows he ought to find a way back to Storybrooke, figure out how to reunite with Grace, but after over 28 years of failing at every turn... The temptation to stay here is pretty strong. What does he have to go back to, really?

Is that a compliment? She doesn't seem like the sort who gives compliments sincerely. Jefferson runs a hand over his scarf (well, Eliot's, which he's borrowed, because their scarf and ascot collections have become one), smoothing it. The smile he offers is brief and somewhat acidic, because he's pretty sure he's being made fun of. ] I tailored the pieces myself. [ EXCEPT FOR THE SCARF. ]

Edited 2017-06-18 00:03 (UTC)

[Margo is extremely motivated to get out of here. Not all of her reasoning is selfish, either, which is strange. For her, I mean. She has an entire kingdom to go back to, an entire nation of people that need her, and she's not leaving without Eliot.

Speaking of Eliot...]

Custom fit. That, I can appreciate. [Better than the department store rejects taking the 90's trend to a painfully accurate level. Good workmanship, attention to detail. There's just one piece of the ensemble that catches her eye in particular.

That scarf is awfully familiar. Reminds her of something she gave to Eliot when he wouldn't stop blubbering about one of Todd's many indiscretions leading to yet another personal vendetta. She reaches out and catches the tail end of the scarf between two perfectly manicured fingers.]

Is this Hermes?

[ He frowns, looking down at her hand on his scarf, but allows the delicate manhandling, at least for now. Still reminding him of Regina, Margo, which isn't putting him in a particularly friendly mood, so much as it's made him sulky. He exhales sharply. ]

Maybe. I don't know. [ He tugs the scarf away and takes a step back. ] I don't always pay attention to labels.

Oooooh, did I strike a nerve? Is personal space an issue? I'm sorry, I'll try harder to keep my hands to myself.

[She smirks, playfully biting the tip of her fingernail as she appraises the little chink in his armor. This could be fun, needling at the same spot until the huffy man breaks down and cries like a widdle baby.

Regal? Check. Evil? Got that covered, too. No wonder she reminds him of Regina. Her sense of style is just as impeccable.]

I'm Margo.

[Her smirk gets wider and she takes a step forward, erasing that distance Jefferson tried to put between them. With a flip of her hair, she slides her hand up his arm as if she's just appreciating the fine tailoring of his sleeve.]

I don't like putting labels on things either. [Definitely not talking about clothes.]

[ Lady, he's not going to cry from your invasion of his personal space! Jefferson's far from that fragile. He's just a bit prickly. Jefferson looks down at that hand that's now on his arm. ]

Jefferson. [ A fancy name for a fancy man? Or is Jefferson a fancy name at all? Eh. He'll endure the touch. ]

But they can be beneficial, you have to admit. Certain labels.

[Not now, obviously. Eventually! Eventually there will be crying and it's going to be hilarious.

For now, it's just mild disdain and pretenses and pushing buttons until something sticks. Jefferson is a fancy a name as any. It suits him. She approves. Since the touch is thus far endured, she'll just go and push the envelope a bit by giving his upper arm a squeeze. Hmmm. Not bad. Not great, but it'll do.]

Are you looking for a label that includes... benefits?

[ Why does he feel like a piece of meat right now? It's not a good feeling! Jefferson lifts a brow, unsure of what to make of this. She's not being serious, of course.

Is she?

No. She isn't.

...or she is.

Whatever! He gives her a look of mock regret. ]

I'm afraid I'm off the market.

Edited 2017-06-20 01:57 (UTC)

[Mock regret? Jefferson, that's insulting. The look of regret on Margo's face is much more sincere! You can even hear it in her voice when she pouts and says,]

That's too bad.

[She leans in close, biting her lower lip with a smile. Granted, she doesn't come up past his chest, her message should still be quite clear. You do NOT reject Margo, she rejects YOU! She won't stop until he's hooked, interested, willing to leave this mystery catch for her. Then, and only then, will she drop him and ignore his entire existence.]

Good thing I'm not one to shy away from a little competition.

(no subject)

royalpassport - 2017-06-20 20:16 (UTC) - Expand

Trust me, if blowing important civic figures didn't do the trick, you're not going to discover a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow pants on some random townie.

Edited 2017-06-17 23:29 (UTC)

How many important civic figures? If you missed a few, I have to cover all our bases.

Why am I always picking up your slack?

There's an entire school board to blow my way through here, Bambi. Give daddy time to work his magic.

( Linda is peak hard mode, I'll tell you that for free. )

You don't have to bend down nearly as far. And your tongue has that prehensile joint in the middle.

[ they are having this conversation blithely on the public message board, yes. and yes, eliot actually is malleable enough socially that he adapts his typing to whomever he's speaking with. in conclusion: that definitely was a sentence he got "peak" and "hard" into when referring to a woman he definitely has not gone down on. ]

Edited 2017-06-17 23:44 (UTC)

Time is not a luxury we have, El. I have one
pair of designer shoes. One. How do you expect me to live like this?

Challenge accepted. And when you're right, you're right. We work better as a team, anyway.

[Public has never been an issue with either of them. In fact, a lack of subtlety and inability to give a shit might get Margo in trouble around here.]

[ Eliot is literally sighing dreamily at his laptop, by the way. ]

Oh, Margo. My precious nightshade blossom. How did I ever get along without you?

Find someone who wears the same shoe size and shack up with them?

[ I mean. That worked for him, with paisley. ]

Edited 2017-06-17 23:58 (UTC)

Considering the lack of amphetamines currently available to the general public, I'd have to say just barely. Fortunately, I'm here and you don't have to worry anymore because I'm going to take you home.

[You know, where your bed is. And your castle. And your throne. And your Margo!

... And to a lesser extent the others, probably, she guesses.]

That doesn't solve the lack of designer goods currently in my closet. Do you really expect me to wear spandex? SPANDEX, ELIOT! I'll DIE and my corpse will be buried in mass produced apparel.

Right. Home. To Hooverville Narnia, where I can't leave my miserable monk-like existence or solve a single fucking problem without three more cropping up in their place like the unfun kind of mushrooms. Let me tell you how eager I'm not to hop that merrily rolling train.

But I do happen to know a good tailor...

[ Biblically. That's how he knows a good tailor. ]

Is your breath actually that strong as to have the ability to lift someone to the ceiling? I think you're exaggerating.

Sweetie, I never exaggerate. I don't have to.

Lung capacity has nothing to do with it, I'll tell you that much.

The people you've sent to the ceiling will give a good recommendation if their names and numbers are asked for? And what capacity makes it so special?

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