phantasmemes | TEST DRIVE 006

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!test drive

TEST DRIVE 006

Hello and welcome to Phantasmal Rift's Test Drive Meme!

Test drive threads are assumed to be game canon for accepted characters unless otherwise noted, so don't feel like you'll have to introduce yourself a second time to everyone you meet! As an added bonus, participation in the test drive comes with the chance to earn up to two items of loot for your trouble! Characters who are accepted can earn one item for having a top level, and one for tagging out to someone else's top level! Your SWEET LOOT will be included with your acceptance notice.

Additionally, characters currently in game can earn themselves a piece of bonus loot for the dungeon by tagging people's top-levels on the test drive! Existing characters get their bonus loot along with the rest of their loot at the conclusion of the dungeon.

This test drive takes place in the Telovia Mines, an extremely abandoned magical crystal mine and the town and infrastructure that one supported it. The tunnels are in reasonably good condition and would be reasonably navigable... Except for one thing.

ONE MINOR THING

The magical effects of the Fissure cause those within it to lose something when they arrive - for most people, it's a sense such as touch or hearing, but it's also possible to lose a more esoteric sense (such as your sense of balance or temperature, but NOT things like "sense of morals" or "sense of style"), the ability to speak, or the ability to recognize faces. As a general guideline, whatever characters lose should be non-supernatural in nature, and something they would have taken for granted as a part of their ability to function.

ODDS AND ENDS

Just because the mines are empty of people doesn't mean that they've gone still. While for the most part, the carts full of crystals remain in one place, the huge amount of magic has left more than a few of the miners' abandoned tools still going through their motions. Rusted pickaxes swing at the walls, and dead lanterns swing from the ceiling. Crystals occasionally free themselves from shards of rock to pile into bins, which then empty into already-overflowing mine carts.

As long as you leave them to their jobs, everything will be fine. If you try to stop the tools (and it is the tools themselves, for anyone who might be looking for ghosts) from doing their jobs, they'll chase you down until you leave their general vicinity.

Of course, the eternally working tools don't care much about the structural integrity of the mine tunnels...

THEY ALL PILE UP

...And so, inevitably, there are cave-ins.

Most of them are fairly minor, and you can see them (well, if you can see) enough to just work around them. Some of them are big enough that you're going to have to dig through them first, if you can.

And then there's the handful that block passages entirely. But don't panic! The tunnels are designed around the possibility of this happening - rather than coming to an end, the majority of them loop back around to the main arteries of the mine.

E... ventually...

But you and whoever is stuck with you on this side of the cave-in might be wandering for quite a while before you get there. Hopefully one of you still has a sense of direction, assuming either of you ever had one in the first place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And this is officially falling into the realm of things Talcott cannot safely respond to at all without potentially giving something away. He'd never considered how difficult this would be if he encountered someone from his world that wasn't also a product of 6350.

Izunia might expect something from him, surprise, confusion, anything. But Talcott is carefully silent and so grateful for the fact that Izunia can't see him chewing at his cuticles right now to stop himself from speaking until the other man is done and he has something he can focus on that's not Ignis or spoilers or- This is so hard.

Fuck Square Enix.

"No I... imagine it will take a lot longer to repair that kind of damage." The mention of this extra dimensional adventure does pique his curiosity though. "He ended up in another world before this one." Less a question and more a confirmation.

"But you think this one is pleasant?" He sounds so very unsure. Not that things were so bad in the SCP version of Earth but... he still doesn't dare trust that anything will really be pleasant about any of the worlds that tend to drag people into them.

"Compared to what Ardyn experienced, absolutely." Again, it's his story to tell, but for a brief flash Izunia looks almost angry. "And far preferable to being stuck in the Ring for two thousand years, let me tell you. I suppose that's given me a bit of a biased perspective compared to most of the rest of the people here."

When your canon is shit, anything that isn't actively shitting on you is an improvement. "But aside from the current sensory situation of this Fissure, it hasn't been so bad at all. No one's killing each other, we've got most of our basic requirements of living taken care of, and, if I may be honest... A lot of the people here are hurt, perhaps not to the extent of Ardyn and I, but scarred in their souls regardless. And here, away from all that hurt, they're learning to breathe again."

No one's killing each other...

Basic requirements are covered...

No ritual murder and no desperate runs into daemon infested towns hoping against hope that someone missed a crate of potato chips or some cans of gighee ham.

scarred in their souls

That's what makes him flinch, turning away even though Izunia can't see him anyway. His hand falls to his waist, fingers feeling over the ridges of scars along his hip and abdomen. Scars that carried over despite the fact that they didn't need to be there. Nothing had happened to this body, but in his soul they were so much a part of what had happened to him.

His other hand came up, touching his brow for a moment, wondering if he dreamed too much of it, if the scars would start to come back, the familiar feeling of stone and ragged flesh. And though Izunia can't see him he'll no doubt hear the way his breathing picks up a little, shallow and frightened for a moment before he pushes the thought away. No, it won't change. That's not who he is, it's not. Damaged, maybe but not broken.

"That... that sounds good? That people are healing, can heal." Yes, definitely. Very good. For the best that these people be given a chance to recover from something terrible. "I don't know how you can do it. Without having something to do." Something to occupy mind and hands, to stop the nightmares from swallowing you even in the light of day.

It's obvious that he hears it, and his expression softens slightly, but Izunia is also smart enough - has learned enough - to not push. Let him talk and it will come out at its own pace.

"And I find plenty enough to keep me occupied - expeditions like this one, though usually not as frustrating, every five to six weeks - Oh," and here he looks more than a bit sheepish. "I should have set up a stabilizer here while we talked, they take about an hour to start to function..."

Sometimes, the Founder King is a bit of an idiot. He pulls a device from his Armiger, a bit of a spike with machinery on the end that bears some resemblance to a virus, and presses a series of buttons along the upper end by feel. "Think you could find somewhere a bit out of the way to stick this? Give it an hour and it should at least minimize our sensory difficulties, at least in this corner."

"Five to six weeks?" He sounds a little distressed at that. Missions spread out that far? He'd been with the Foundation for less than 3 weeks and they'd had things happening on a near daily basis. Never mind the constant danger back home. The idea of so much down time was absolutely appalling.

But, ah, Izunia is offering him something to do. He is quick to get to his feet, taking the device from the older man without question. "Of course, sir."

Immediate and habitual and he grimaces once he's said it. Perhaps Izunia won't notice? Or at least won't call him on it. He does step away to find a crevice out of the way to tuck the spike into, somewhere high enough that it won't accidentally get knocked into and Slams it hard into the stone, wedging it in as firmly as he can.

"Do I need to do anything else to it?"

Izunia's smile slips a little at the 'sir,' but otherwise he just tracks Talcott by the sound, shaking his head at the question. "No, that should do - it calibrates to the magic in the area automatically, but that's why it takes a bit of time."

He settles back in his chair and takes a bite of another slice of pear. "Anyway, as I was saying - for the most part, people spend their time outside the expeditions honing their skills, though I know some handful are content to simply let things be. I find that I tend to cook perhaps a bit obsessively, but there's more than enough at the Station who can't be trusted in the kitchen to make up for it."

Even though it might sound like he's complaining, his tone is relatively fond. He loves their kitchen disasters. "There's also the matter that exposure to the Fissures tends to cause the development of magical abilities over time - there's plenty of people who have had some issue or another learning to control that. If you see Prompto freezing everything in arm's reach, try not to be alarmed."

It will take Talcott some time to break years long habits of calling everyone 'sir' or 'ma'am' things that his grandfather had reminded him of near daily. Always be polite, always show respect. These people are nobility, son. Not like him.

"If you ever want an extra pair of hands in the kitchen I..." A slight shrug. "I've been helping Ignis for years so I know how to do most things."

And it was something to do, something to keep him occupied.

"Develop magic?" Oh that... that was dangerous. He thought back to that conversation with Red. He'd just wanted to protect people but then maybe she'd been right not to trust him. "That sounds fascinating and dangerous."

"And hilarious." Okay the idea of Prompto failing as hard with ice powers as Lance had with fire powers was just perfect.

"I'll gladly accept a hand whenever you feel up to it. Though I should warn you that I don't keep to a particular schedule the way many other people do - my way of handling the family's fatigue problems is a somewhat chronic napping habit."

Can't catch him, circadian rhythm.

"I've developed a few altered abilities myself - " He gestures at where the orb of light still hangs, at least not needing to see that to know where it is. " - but apparently it hits the younger people harder. Probably something about how your bodies are still developing."

Circadian rhythms tend to work best with light which is something Talcott hasn't had much of in his life.

"That's fine... I'm up most of the night, anyway." And most of the day. What is sleep?

"Or maybe we're more open to the idea of changing so it's easier for the magic to affect that change." Like how their gigai can change to reflect their souls. Like Floe deciding she wanted to be a boy. "Still that's really interesting."

"And.. the crystals?" Is the cool fidget toy magical or is Izunia magical and therefore can use the cool fidget toy?

"Oh - these, or the ones in the mine?" It is a crystal mine, after all. Izunia flicks his fingers and the circling crystals grow wide, bobbing up and down in an alternating pattern as they continue their circuit. "This is just something to do with my hands - bit of a toy I came across, but they help to keep me grounded. Anything to touch does - it seems to be something that human minds need at my age, because Ardyn fidgets nearly as much now."

If anything could leave scars in one's soul, after all, the Starscourge surely qualifies, even beyond everything else. The crystals glitter in the light before shifting to a figure-eight pattern.

"As for the ones in the mine, they seem to be this world's version of elemancy deposits, though there's a wider variety of energies represented. I've learned to make use of a few of them in a similar way, in fact."

Talcott watches the motions, how gestures feed into what the crystals do, utterly fascinated. "It is really cool for just a toy."

"It is, perhaps, less age and more experience. There are studies in some worlds about certain imbalances that are better focused with the ability to play with something but sensory objects also sometimes help with people who have experienced trauma." And it sounds like he's paraphrasing something out of a book, a little bit distant and detached. Why he'd be researching coping mechanisms is not something he's going to freely elaborate on though.

He glances over Izunia's shoulder, back into the mine proper, taking a few curious steps. But wandering off, getting distracted by new mysteries to unravel isn't going to help anyone. So he circles back around to the table, to sit back down and sip at his coffee. "It must be fascinating for you, at your age, to have new elements and magics to work with."

Not like he thinks it'd be cool to be able to use magic and is jealous or anything. He's totally not leaning on this table with his chin in his hands staring wistfully at Izunia because gods dammit why couldn't he be royalty? Or at least have earned his way into the Glaives.

It's okay, Izunia can guess without further detail that it's not something to like at. "Especially when those traumas often have a general theme of helplessness from a lack of body, it's true."

Another small gesture snaps the figure eight into a spindle shape, the ten crystals taking a one-four-four-one arrangement with the clear at one end and the black at the other.

"Anything new is a delight when I encounter it, not just this sort of thing. It's one of the reasons I'm glad to be here."

Talcott laughs at that, something dark and a little distressed.

"Two thousand years I-" He swallows hard, still watching the play of the crystals, they really are mesmerizing.

"How could you bear it?" It had only taken him three weeks to completely lose it. To try to end that strange half life they'd been trapped in. "I don't know how you're..." still sane enough to hold a conversation? Hardly the polite thing to say to the Founder King.

Gods he'd barely been able to make sense of anything when Sol turned on them, certainly not to make idle conversation like this.

"Coherent, functional on a day-to-day basis, capable of passing for sound mind?" Izunia doesn't beat around the bush; he's also not going to make a claim of full sanity any time soon. That ship sailed off centuries ago.

"Sometimes I can't, and it pulls me under. But when that happens... 'There are people who need me.' 'There are people who love me.' 'The worst is already over.' Those are the ropes that I built to pull myself up with. That," and in spite of being sightless, the wink he throws in Talcott's direction is perfectly aimed. "And a healthy dose of spite. I refuse to let what the Draconian did to my life control my life any more than it already has - I refuse to let that control my future, when so many other, better possibilities exist."

He smiles, faintly, a little ruefully. "Anti-depressants help, too."

"It's good you've found things to pull yourself together with." Affirmations, as they'd been called in a number of articles he'd read online. They'd all seemed so foolish at the time. He'd even written one of those very things on a post it note and put it on the bathroom mirror. It had lasted perhaps two hours before he'd ripped it off and torn it up. Mitsuru and Marisa didn't need to deal with his issues and it was bullshit anyway. Every time he convinced himself that the others needed him he'd messed everything up so badly.

"I... didn't expect..." He blinks in surprise at that last bit. "You to just... admit that." Even if it was true he was royalty. Surely he couldn't just freely discuss the fact that he took some sort of medication.

He's retired, Tal.

"What do I have to gain by hiding it?" The question is genuine, though a bit amused. "My image? That's not worth even a sheet of paper to me. And when knowing that they aren't alone is sometimes enough to let others seek the help they need - how could I value some nebulous sense of image more than that?"

"I-" He's quiet for a moment, swirling his fingertips along the edge of the coffee cup, lifting it to take another sip and then going back to toying with the mug. At least it kept him from tearing up his cuticles more.

"O-of course. I'm sorry I didn't mean to... make it seem like." A sigh as he slumps forward, leaning on the table and shoving his hands in his hair. "Forget I said anything, sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I know well enough the stigma on such things in many worlds." Including their own - Insomnia was not a beacon of mental health at its height, and he can readily admit that. And it was probably only harder for a child who grew up in the dark. "That's one of the things about this place that does allow people to heal. There's no prevailing culture, no expectations - as long as you're a decent person and keep most of your clothes on, everything will be well with those already here."

"No canoodling?" Muttered under his breath, soft and amused however dark the joke is. Even though he knows Izunia won't understand. But it gives him a moment to think about the rest of what he's said, the implications behind it.

He's glad now that the redhead can't see him, fingers coming up to curl in the green scarf at his throat, knowing what lies beneath it.

"And if you're not?" A rush of breath as his stomach plummets into his toes at the question. "A decent person...?"

"Keep it to your rooms unless explicitly invited otherwise. You're a bit young for the adult parties, if another one should happen." Sorry, Talcott, you're a small and the Founder King is, in spite of everything, one of the responsible adults.

And the way he looks at Talcott - the boy would be forgiven for forgetting that Izunia is still blind, so stern and level the gaze. "Exactly what defines a decent person varies. Here, it means not intentionally provoking people into trauma responses, not resetting the murder counter, and helping out where you can. Anything else - anything you might have done, anyone you might have been before - that matters so much less than who you decide to be now."

Hey he's eighteen now! He's an adult, really.

"Sorry it... was a rule in Camp." Probably for the best. How much worse would things have been if he and Nine had actually... Then again maybe Nine would've stopped him where Ichigo didn't. Or-

The look Izunia levels at him is enough to make Talcott hunch down in his chair a little, feeling for all the world like he used to when he was a kid and Cor or Cid had to remind him of his place. It's so stupid and he knows it but for one hysterical moment he feels like he might cry.

Who you decide to be

But how is he supposed to know without anyone to guide him anymore. He's been told what to do and who to be his entire life, the prospect of suddenly having so much freedom is terrifying, especially when that freedom was precisely what got him into trouble in camp. Every choice he made, even if it was with the best of intentions, blew up in his face and got people hurt.

"I'll... do my best." Even if he knew that would never be good enough.

And Izunia's expression softens instantly. Perhaps he pushed too hard - it's so damn hard to tell without the visual cues. "That's all anyone can ask. You'll be fine. And if you're not, there's always support if you need it."

Talcott is just a little extra sensitive to judgement from authority figures. He doesn't have family, not really, he has mentors, people of authority that he looks up to, and he's spent the last two months telling himself how much he's failed them all, how disappointed everyone would be in him.

It almost feels like he just has a whole new set of people he's going to be disappointing now.

But Izunia is trying to be supportive, at least? He's just not sure he'll ever be able to tell someone when he's drowning. He should be able to be better than that.

"Thank you, s-" A sigh. Gods he can't even get that right. "I appreciate that."

The attempt, at least, gets a smile.

Living's a work in progress, even at his age.

"Well, I don't think I have it in me to head back into the mines again for at least some time, so if there's anything else you'd like to ask, I'd be happy for the conversation." There's only so long he can stand of the absence of vision, and he really is nearing his limit.

He has to think for a moment, trying to find a topic that isn't going to bother either of them. In the end he decides family is probably the safest option, if the fondness Izunia's shown so far is any indication.

"Tell me something about him? Your brother." Curious and he can't help wishing he had his journal with him to take notes. "A happy memory. Maybe a time you got into trouble together or something?"

Something to make them both a little more human and less imposing. A living legend.

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