TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025

[thediadem]

Test Drive ∞ May 2025

The First Collision

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Jump ⇅ :: Arrival — Panorama — Fringes — Invite Request

The Diadem is an invite-only panfandom game set in a retro-futuristic world where uprooted souls find themselves deep within an eerie wasteland of roads and highways frequently assailed by cosmic storms. Three united strongholds keep the population. Its capital is Panorama, a large metropolis at the planet's center.

Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Calling themselves fluxdrifts, the "locals" have similar stories to you, either for themselves or their ancestry. You speak to an old woman who claims she hailed from another star. You meet a young man who says his great-great-grandfather knew a strange language everybody spoke "back home." As you explore, you stumble across a coin you recognize or your sister's locket. How did it get here? What does this mean? That's for you to discover.

But first, you need to find a ride.

No invites needed to play on the TDM. Everyone's welcome! Use the Invite Request thread below to request an invite from another player.

∞ Summary ∞

IC-wise, arrivals are scattered throughout the month. Events described on the TDM are also ongoing throughout the month. If you'd rather jump right into the action, you're free to begin in media res with your character having already been on the planet for several days.

Post-impact, characters will wake up in a med tent by the Scrapyard. From there, they must accept a vehicle on loan and make the 2-hour drive to the nearest city, Panorama. If they refuse the car because they don't want the loan, they'll be in debt for medical bills instead...so just take the car. It'll come in handy.

Some things to keep in mind when bringing in your character:

• Pick an injury. At minimum, they got knocked out; at most, whatever they can recover from. Medicine is decently advanced so they'll heal faster if not painlessly.
• Decide items kept. Reasonable items on their person only: photos, keys, clothes, costumes. No pets or animal companions. Wildly out-of-place tech and personal cell phones will be damaged beyond repair.
• Select a weapon. Do this only if eligible. Guidelines about weapons and powers are on the FAQ.
• Choose a vehicle. Decide whether your character gets 2-3 options or if they're stuck with something they hate. Players can pick directly from our collection or source their own images. Anything under a similar aesthetic will work. If your character needs accommodations for driving, they can have them. Ask us for details.
• Get a phone. Characters have to obtain a phone (and a SIM card) themselves. If they've got one from home, it's damaged beyond repair. Phones are cheap. It'll only take a couple of weeks to afford one. You need to know the number before you text or call anyone. Read about phones and the Forum before you hop on it.

TDM threads can be canon if characters are accepted. Top-levels made to the TDM should be open to all.

TDM Questions? Here — Game Questions? FAQ

Setting — Taken — Reserves — Applications ::: ⇅ Top

Fluxdrift

Arrival & Introduction

Date: Throughout May

You've tumbled over a cliff. You were fighting for your life. You're on the cusp of death. You slipped in the shower. Whatever the catalyst, you struggle to cling to consciousness. As darkness overtakes you, a swirling vortex warps light and shadow in a way that defies all physics. A dark wail etches into your very bones. You couldn't describe it if you tried. You can barely comprehend what it is.

Then you open your eyes.

Through the figure's mask ©, you swear the face is grinning down at you. The tent you're in smells of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets line your cot. Injuries you've sustained have been bandaged. In the corner, you spot a MedBot that's fixed you up. Depending on the extent of your injuries, the doctor on duty might give you some painkillers before you go. Thankfully, your belongings are by the exit. Sorry if anything's damaged. Your landing was pretty rough.

You follow the figure outside. They are Yom Crook, here to lend a hand to fellow fluxdrifts like yourself. Their car's parked beside them. Actually, there are lots of cars around, but Yom Crook's stands out with its painted shark mouth. They explain they found you, unconscious, in a diffusion zone and brought you here. The nearest city is a 2-hour drive northeast. Forget about walking. You'll never make it. Also, you owe the doctor a lot of money for patching you up. But you're in luck: they've got some wheels for you and if you accept the vehicle on loan, Yom Crook will cover your medical bills. That's a good deal, right? It's not the shiniest car or motorcycle, but it'll do. If fortune favors, you'll get to choose between two or three options. Plus, if you need accommodations to drive—like adjustments to your seat height or modified controls—you'll receive all that for free.

Take the vehicle. (And the loan.) Yom Crook assures you that you'll have six months before collectors come around. Any time you're ready to pay a part of it down, return here to the Scrapyard. You'll get a receipt and everything. Paying off the loan in six months isn't impossible, but it will take a lot of work. Just don't get too lax. There's a good chance you'll be juggling multiple loans as you try to get by.

You either know how to drive, or you'll have a bare-bones manual to get you started. Road rules are more a suggestion than enforced, so just hit the pedal and go. The car has some basic features. The built-in compass will help you navigate.

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: a flat tire; a body on the road (is it a trap?); a fender bender

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Panorama

Explore & Settle In

Conditions: Warm spring temperatures, light showers

After 2 hours on the road, you find civilization. The largest of the strongholds, Panorama is where the economy thrives. Massive power plants glowing red make it visible from a distance. The city is divided into three districts. For now, you can access the Pavilion and the Blocks. Don't worry about the Sanctum; they're not letting you in.

You only need to know two things about Panorama: 1) it's big, the size of a modern metropolis, and you'll need your car to get around; 2) anything goes as long as you don't pick a fight with the wrong person. Street smarts will get you far. Despite its geographical size, the population isn't huge. With roughly a million people in a city designed for over twice that number, Panorama is far from deserted, but nor is it overcrowded. It's a good thing. Resources are limited as it is.

The Pavilion: Free Samples

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Like any large city, Panorama features a couple of supermarkets. The stock's not as consistent as a proper supermarket. On occasion, shelves can remain cleaned out for a week or two. Regardless, the long tradition of free samples remains. If you're not already shopping, you'll notice the crowded parking lot and clusters of lines inside.

Try samples, push through the crowds as you shop, or give yourself a five-finger discount. If you're cautious, you can pocket a few small items without consequences. The Pavillion doesn't have the infrastructure for surveillance; unless someone sees you, you won't be caught. Steal from the store or pilfer someone's wallet. Maybe you even make a new friend if you bump into another fluxdrift. Or, start a fight with somebody who cut you off in the cheese line. Don't make too much of a ruckus, or you'll be thrown out.

As you look around, you'll see posters advertising temporary positions for the cash register or graveyard shifts in the warehouse. Seems they might've lost several employees recently (how'd that happen?), which is good for you! It's just a 6-week position, but it'll get you on your feet. The city has temporary positions like this all over. Permanent ones are harder to come by when you're new.

Samples include: steamed cabbage dumplings, synthetic cherry juice, cheddar cheese, and chocolate-covered alien eggs (it's crunchy and weirdly tasty). They're served in the usual throwaway paper cups with little toothpicks.

The Blocks: Power Outage

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Power's finicky in Panorama, especially in the Blocks. Saint Margery's Hospital, located in the same area, has priority for power so the first to go are the motels. Maybe you've been in your room for a couple of weeks, maybe you just got here—and by the way, every motel desk is happy to put the fee on your tab if you don't have the money upfront—but all the motels on the east side are in a blackout, leaving only the west side motels up and running.

What do you do? You have three choices:

• Risk leaving your room and head to the other side where there's power. Knock on some doors and negotiate with another to share the room. They might shut the door in your face, ask for a favor in return, or be nice enough to help you with no strings attached. There's no guarantee your unattended room will be untouched, though, and you'll be on the hook for any damages an intruder causes.
• Sit in the dark and deal. It's not the worst idea, but the TV's down, the vending machines are powered down, and with the entire place plunged into darkness, you risk getting robbed. If you struggle with defending yourself, you might want to find some trustworthy company. You can also sneak out of there and let them take your leftover pizza. It's not like you've got a ton of valuables, right? Plus, clobbering someone in the face with a frying pan sounds great until you realize you've gotta do something with the body. And what if this person's got a friend waiting?
• Get in your car and drive (or grab a friend for a road trip). If you scroll the Forum, you might notice reports on diffusion zones southward. Besides, these motels are hardly your forever home. The city can only provide so much. Why not go for a ride and see what you can find out there?

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: clean up on aisle 3 (what is that goo?); a knock at your door but no one's there; you hear screaming or a commotion down the hall

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The Fringes

Quad 3: Lockdown

Conditions: Stormy, with flooding roads

Felix Bjurstrom
> Date: 125-05-17
> Time: 02:15:57

> Emergency road lights have been reported in Quadrant 3! Please, can someone go see what's there? When last we chasers investigated emergency lights, a whole truck filled with sour candy had tipped over. Our stores were stocked for weeks! Oh, be careful - reception looks bad in that zone.

Whether you end up here on your own or you were following a tip on the Forum, the outcome is the same: you come to a stop in front of a 2-story office building that's flooded several inches deep. Emergency lights from a roadblock flicker through the stormy night. Stepping out of your car, you're soaked within seconds. When you check your phone, you don't have any bars. No calls in or out.

Through the open windows, a computer awakens and displays a cheerful smile. The lights inside switch on.

Pick your scenario role below. Your thread partner doesn't need to take the opposite role! They can join you in the same scenario (i.e. trapped together). Players are also free to create a generic NPC for the other side to facilitate the thread.

After characters escape, they'll find one bottle of antibiotics in their pocket or car, whether they remember taking it or not.

A: Sealed In
As you peer through the windows, you see crates of medicine floating around. Antibiotics in the diadem are valuable. Hospitals and doctors are always buying. You can keep it for yourself or make a quick buck. Or maybe you're compelled to help somebody back in the city who's in need. Whatever the reason, you decide to take the risk and step inside.

Water splashes around your ankles. The lock buzzes behind you. If you try to break the windows, you discover they're unnaturally resistant to shattering. With the whole place locked tight, the water begins to churn. Then the computer lights up again.

Warning, it flashes in large, bold text. Quarantine in progress. Release code required for exit.

• To find the code, you'll have to search. Duck under the water, go through sopping envelopes and sticky notes or pick the locks on the filing cabinets and desk drawers. You can also try hacking the computers. Use your computer knowledge or fall back on the age-old trick of seeing who wrote down their password.
• The files, notepads, and emails start innocuous, but as you look through them, disturbing phrases jump out at you—a dark thought you've had or a cruel taunt from someone in your past. The longer you're fixed on the terrible words, the higher the water begins to rise. Only another can break you out of your trance.
• With the rising water comes fear. And the more you're afraid, the more the water also rises. You begin to see faces in the water, bobbing like balloon heads. Do you recognize them? If you move to take a closer look, they will sink back beneath the surface as if never there.
• If you manage to swallow your panic, you can eventually find a triple-laminated binder with the release code and instructions. Bad news: you need someone on the outside to punch in the 6 strange symbols in order. The instructions explain that the code panel is located at the back of the building.

Let's hope a friendly face comes along.

B: Set Free
As you peer through the windows, you see not just the crates of medicine but someone trapped inside. They look like they might be in trouble, and from your vantage point, you notice that the water is bubbling strangely. It's definitely not normal rainwater. As you watch, the water rises unnaturally, stopping and starting. It's as if the water level is responding to an external stimulus.

• The glass is soundproof. You can't hear what the person inside is saying, so you'll have to communicate with each other another way. Try charades, typing on your phone, or whatever you think of. Eventually, you determine that they're stuck and that you need to enter some sort of code onto a pad located—according to your trapped partner—at the back of the building.
• Around the back, shadows swallow your surroundings. The panel must be pried open, but a slippery substance makes it hard to get a good grip. Each time the substance touches you, you grow uneasy. You swear you see eyes watching you, though when you turn around, nothing's there.
• You can't seem to keep the instructions in your mind. And those symbols...they burn into your retinas. Through them, you glimpse an incomprehensibly massive figure unfurling in the darkness, pulsing as if in a deep sleep. When you snap back to reality, you realize you've injured yourself, slicing your hand on a sharp edge or a bruise you can't remember getting.
• Once you manage to release the doors, the water inside the office drains upward into the sky as though sucked out by a giant hose. The darkness spreads. Get out of there fast before the shadows drag you or your partner into the void.

Of course, you don't have to help anyone. You can leave the individual there, make a deal, or outright extort them. But remember, you're not the only person on these roads. You might want to play your cards carefully, even if altruism isn't your first instinct.

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Comments

[tolight]

[ He's not? The surprise this time is even more obvious than the last. Stays a little longer, too, as wide eyes scan the hallway for a third figure. Something breathing that's not the two of them. The fact that it's empty only raises more questions. ( Someone outside doesn't make sense. Maybe her...? But that seems presumptuous. She's never done very well with figuratives. )

But if he doesn't elaborate, she won't ask after it. There are more important things to turn their attention to at the moment. Like — the exact number of people inside, the casual possibility of someone in danger. Her head tilts. Her frown only seems to deepen. ]

Oh. [ He wants to help them. It seems so obvious in hindsight, now that the realization's hit her. The last of the pieces that don't fit suddenly do. ] I see. [ On all fronts. Well, maybe except the literal one. It's still dark in here, after all.

Still. With that established, she walks towards him. A hand's still at her blade, but the grip on it's loosened enough for the time being. The concept of personal space seems to be set aside briefly as she presses her ear up against the door herself, gaze dropping as she tries to listen. But — either her hearing isn't as good or they ( singular or plural ) caught on that someone's at the door, because she doesn't hear anything. ] They've gone quiet. Should we— [ It feels a little rash to try and break down the door, but if someone's in danger... ]

[vestments]

( he knows how it sounds, how it comes across, and it's not exactly that he enjoys the surprise etched in her expression, the way she looks for who and what he means, but it's useful — both in terms of the small, tiny details it gives him about her — she doesn't ask, that's interesting — and in helping to reposition, re-establish his reputation.

he only moves a touch as she walks towards him, enough to allow her to slide in next to him and press her ear to the door, but no more than that. up close, she'll find he smells of sweat — fresh, not stale — and coffee, the cheap kind, instant, probably. strong and dark and bitter, drank more out of need and habit than for taste. up close, too, it'll be easier for her to note the scar in his eyebrow, the one that says he was lucky to be left with an eye; the nose that's not quite straight, that's healed awkwardly from being broken again and again and again.

all of it, from the quiet tension through to the reminders evident on his body say that he's a fighter, rough and used to getting hit, and so it should be no surprise that his gaze lingers on her, sizes her up a touch more blatantly now she's stood next to him, now that there's not just the pale light of the moon through windows to rely on. he's taller, bigger, but he knows well enough that it's not enough, not always. with her sword, she'll have reach; with her size, she'll have speed, be more nimble.

fine. together they'll likely be a match for whoever's inside, and if it's an unfair fight? if the odds are against them? even better. he's always been at his best when he's the underdog.

but where she might think it's rash to break down the door, the same thought doesn't seem to occur to marc. he nods at her — that he'll incur more debt doesn't occur to him either, but even so: money's just money and he's a priest. what need does he have for it?

he takes a step back and doesn't say anything, just gestures with a hand as if to say 'I need you to move' before shifting his weight, fully prepared to kick down the door unless she interjects. )

[tolight]

[ This is basically the closest thing to a hello either of them are going to get, at least for the next little while: standing a touch too close and sizing each other up as they assess the situation at the same time. No offense taken by it, considering she does the same in return — notes his build and his posture and the familiar-unfamiliar divots on his face that each come with a story. He'd more than likely have the upper hand if she can't maintain her distance. His close proximity to their opponents will give her plenty of blind spots to exploit. The two of them have never fought together, but the lack of hesitation on his part means that her trust comes just as quickly, without a second thought.

( They may as well have shaken on it. )

On Marc's cue, Lucina takes a step back. Keeps her back to the opposite wall as she gives him the room he needs. There's probably a part of her that'll be mortified at how quickly they resorted to property destruction, but the urgency now means she's not thinking about it. The possibility it could save a life outweighs some broken hinges or splintered wood — the shame will only set in if whoever is inside didn't need any help after all.

Which, speaking of: she doesn't flinch when his foot meets the door, nor when that seems to do the trick and the door swings abruptly to the other end and crashes against the wall. She is right behind him in an instant, eyes narrow as she tries to make out the shapes inside. It looks empty at first glance — there's the vague shape of a bed, a table, and an open window.

— And the flash of something darting from the doorway, aimed right for Marc. ] Your right! [ As she begins to unsheathe her sword. ]

[vestments]

( marc won't linger on it. property destruction is the least of any crimes he's ever committed, is something he does on a near-nightly basis at home. the kick, then, and the subsequent shoulder barge is well-practised, second-nature of a sort, and he doesn't stumble as the door gives way, merely grunts at the impact, the way that his shoulder complains at his chosen method of entry. (shit.) he's going to feel that in the morning. (good.)

from behind him, she has a better view of the room, and despite her warning, marc doesn't duck. doesn't bring up his arms in defence, instead turning his body to take the brunt of impact, familiar and welcome. it's not that he's unprepared, it's not that he's unskilled — lucina might catch the way that, for the first time in their short encounter, something approaching a smile graces marc's features. it's sharp, but there's a glimmer of welcome there, like something in the fight, in violence itself, is enticing to marc.

it's just that usually, it's hidden beneath a mask the same shade of white as his suit.

he's not a graceful fighter — agile, yes, someone that knows his body, knows how to use weight and momentum, but in the absence of weaponry, he uses himself — get hit, get hit, get hit, take your chance when it's least expected, when all signs point to him being put on the ground and not getting back up. wet trickles from his nose, down to his upper lip, and he clocks a closed door in the corner of the small room, visible only thanks to the glint of the metal handle in the dark. bathroom. maybe that's where the inhabitant—.

he keeps track of lucina only distantly, the shape of her in his periphery. he does wonder if the room's too small for a sword, but what does it matter? not his weapon, not his business. at the flicker of vague movement edging towards her, he reaches into a pocket instinctively, seeking out a crescent dart that's not there. he swears, sharp and colourful, before calling out a rough— ) Left!

[tolight]

[ There's a brutality to the way the man moves, the way he fights. Simple but fearless, no real concern for his body — no, that's not true. He's intimately aware of how he's moving, the space he's taking up. He's unafraid of injury, but uses that as a weapon to turn the tide.

It's different, is all. Neither here or there, and not something she can really wax poetic on at the moment. Just noted and filed away as she learns to fight alongside a stranger, using his call to step back out. The room's too small for a sword, but the hallway's not — and the second figure's keen on following up, make this an easy one to one, leaving the rest of the room for Marc to do with as he wishes.

And in direct contrast to him — she's fluid in her movements, a comfort with violence manifesting in a different way. She ducks and weaves and finds every use for the space given to her, expression stoic, waiting for an opportunity of her own before circles behind the assailant. The grip on the hilt of her sword's backwards when she raises her hand, and she uses the pommel to hit somewhere on the back of the neck. Not precise enough to be debilitating, but enough for him to stumble forward. A second hit, before he goes down, this time at the base of his skull. Non-lethal, but probably concussed. She's not gracious enough to make this painless.

That's two accounted for. A possible third ( and fourth? Fifth? ) tucked away from the bathroom. For all the tension it took to get to this moment, turns out these particular opportunists were picking on easy prey for a reason. Her eyes are already darting back to the room as she straightens out. How're you doing, Marc? ]

[vestments]

( how is marc doing, what a great question, one he'll avoid answering in perpetuity, thank you.

but in the here and now, he's almost having a good time. marc is a man who admits his relationship to and with violence is unhealthy, is a man who considers pain to be a measure of being alive, and this — beating up bad guys in the dark — is the closest thing he has to a hobby. unfortunately for marc and his near-enjoyment, he's used to a higher calibre of criminal, and his own fight is almost as short-lived as hers.

his opponent will also likely have a concussion, but it'll sit alongside a split lip and bruised, if not broken ribs. a black eye, too, not from a punch, but from a well-timed, well-placed headbutt.

he glances over to lucina, quick and appraising and questioning, meeting her gaze even if he doesn't answer the unasked question. 'fine' sits in the way he immediately turns towards the bathroom door once he's established she's unhurt, sits in the way he sniffs, a little wet, but otherwise ignores the trickle of blood from his nose. it's not broken, doesn't hurt enough for that, and dealing with whoever's in the bathroom will serve as a two-birds-one-stone kind of deal, assuming it's got running water.

he's not willing to bet on how likely he thinks that is, given the state of the motel and electricity.

the bathroom door's unlocked, although whether that's thanks to luck or a broken lock isn't something marc wastes time in wondering, not as the door swings open and marc realises the small window is entirely inadequate at illuminating the space, tiny as it is. luckily for marc, the person inside doesn't take a swing at him, and luckily for them, marc's not that impulsive and instead he stops, still mostly in the doorway, the question evident in the way he holds himself even before he speaks.

'is this your room?', 'are you hurt?'

a beat.

he leans forward, doesn't seem to consider if it's ill-advised, before— )

If it's not your room, ( the rest of the utterance remains unsaid. )

[tolight]

[ There's a little frown at the bloody nose, concern flitting her expression for a moment — but he doesn't seem bothered by it, so she doesn't ask. It doesn't look broken, which is enough. It's something they can circle back to later if given the opportunity.

So he beelines for the bathroom, and she stays out on the hallway for a moment to from one end of the hallway to another ( unsheathe her sword in the process, before her form relaxes and her shoulders straighten out again ). It's still quiet — almost disconcertingly so — despite all the commotion that was raised. She hauls the limp body back into the room before returning back inside and shutting the door behind her. Blocking the light from the hallway makes the entire room a shade darker, but the curtains are drawn back and it feels — well, it feels safer like this. One more barrier in case anyone tries to bolt that shouldn't.

Lucina's coming up behind him as she hears a whimper and the rustling of fabric — it really is dark, she can barely make out the shape of the body inside except for the lines, but it does seem to be nodding. Frantically. Y-yeah, to Marc, voice tight and a little frantic. Yeah. I— the power went out but I was sleeping but they got in somehow and— ]

You're alright. [ From just beyond the doorway. The bathroom's already crowded with two, she really doesn't need to be a third — but she tries for a smile in the hopes that they can see. Puts on a voice that sounds less like a fighter and more like an authority figure, reassuring and comforting in a way that offers no room for argument. ] We'll make sure of it.

... Though perhaps you should consider finding arrangements elsewhere. [ Not that she expects everyone to have that kind of luxury ( she's sleeping in a car as her 'alternative', she's in no place to talk ). But ... you know, just an option. ]

[vestments]

( she's more gentle than he is, and he's grateful for it — it saves him the effort of needing to soften himself. what he does instead, is take a step back, allowing the man — young, barely out of his teens — space, his attention sliding towards the unconscious body lucina had dragged into the room.

a beat of consideration, barely a glance over his shoulder and, ) The room next door. ( a statement, not a suggestion, though it is intended as one. ) There's company.

( —ah. )

Friendlier than these two. ( not fighters, based on the way they've stayed put, which could be considered both a blessing and a curse given the night so far. it's a thought that occurs quickly to marc, just as the youth starts to make his way out of the bathroom. ) —No-one's going to bother you more tonight.

( he doesn't look to lucina as the boy makes his way out of the room, his attention on the two bodies on the floor. he squats by the first, his gaze settling intently for a breath, expression — impassive — likely not visible in the dark but for the shadows.

then, with neither care nor shame, marc searches through the man's pockets. there's a wallet, one he flops open, looking between the ID and the body, huffing a derisive laugh as he reaches the conclusion he'd expected — stolen. with a glance up to lucina, he pauses, and then throws it towards her. there's cash inside if she wants it — he's not so inclined, not for the moment.

a few more moments, and marc seems not to find what he'd been looking for (weapons), and he stands. he brushes his hands down his pants, then straightens his tie, and then—

mm. )

Just a second.

( and then he's at the door, a — white paint marker pulled out of a pocket? yes. apparently.

he holds the door in place with a boot — white, too, more of a chelsea boot than a work boot — and draws a quick, large, crescent moon. he fills it in roughly — he'd prefer spray paint, but beggars can't be choosers.

without looking away, he answers a question lucina hasn't asked and perhaps wasn't interested in asking— ) —A warning.

( he did say no-one else would cause the boy trouble. )

[tolight]

Stay safe. [ A wish as the man passes by. He's probably close to her age, but fear has a way of making people look younger. There isn't much else she can do for him here — if she were to be objective about it, she's not exactly in a position to offer any more than what they've done already. For all the ways she wishes to help — which, she does — she knows better than to over-extend.

So, he leaves, hopefully to find better company than the two passed-out men here. She turns around just in time to have her hand dart out to catch the wallet out of sheer reflex, eyes wide at what Marc's offering her. It's been ages she's since had to loot bodies like this — there's a part of her that feels a little wrong for doing so — these men aren't dead, they'll need it as much as her. The line between desperation and malice gets thinner and thinner in times like this.

... But she doesn't feel bad enough to stop herself from splitting the currency in half ( slowly but methodically, her temporary ally's just a second giving her the time she needs to squint at the numbers in the darkness ), pocketing one set. She joins him at the door just as he's putting the final touches on his creation, and she tilts her head. ]

Is it yours? [ A moon to match the startling white of his suit. It's fitting how the light from the windows seems to hit the symbol just right, making it look like it's faintly glowing. ] ... What does it mean?

[vestments]

It's Khonshu's, ( he answers reflexively and without a second thought. it's not just the white that matches — though the details would be hard to catch in the dim light of the hallway, the cufflinks of marc's shirts and the buttons on his waistcoat are also small crescent moons, a fussy little detail that'd imply exactly what lucina asked if not for the way he says 'khonshu's'.

it's not reverent. it can barely even be said to be respectful, it's just blunt.

he looks to her, quick and appraising. he's met people here, people that share names with men and women from home but aren't them, and though one explanation for it is that this is some kind of multiverse, alternate universe bullshit, there in marc lies the awareness that he'd died and so this could be anything.

—well, maybe not anything, but there's certainly a chance it can be put down to MARC SPECTOR BEING MARC SPECTOR.

but whatever he's looking for in his features, whether he seems to find it or not, he continues with a, ) God of the moon. ( khonshu would add on a 'greatest of the great gods' (ha—), and so, too, would badr. but marc is not badr, and marc and khonshu have always had a DIFFICULT relationship.

(—and it hadn't been to khonshu he'd prayed before death.)

he lifts a hand, open, palm facing out, index finger pointing loosely towards the moon on the door and, like it explains anything and everything— ) Vengeance. Protector of the night's travellers.

[tolight]

[ When it comes to the motions of her opponent, or the ability to read the flow of battle — that's doable, natural because she chose to make it so. There's a purpose to it that she has deemed it necessary. And there's plenty that's important about noticing the cufflinks or the implications behind Marc's tone of voice as he describes Khonshu, just ... not for her. The art of conversation or the battle of intellect would not have allowed her to survive in the way that she did.

In other words— maybe if he used the cufflinks as a weapon. Until then, her focus is on the faint shimmer of the ink against the wooden door, and the intersection between the three things he listed. It's beautiful in the simple, straightforward way she likes. It makes the corners of her lips curl up, just a little, her shoulders dropping a few angles as her back straightens out. A warning, also a blessing. A promise from someone who cannot be here that they are watching, for better or for worse ( for better, she hopes; he would not draw it on a door willingly if it had been for the worse, or she'd like to believe ). ]

I see. [ She does. She may not be observant, but she is attentive. It's a symbol that she'll look for for as long as she's here in Panorama, so that she can recognize Marc's presence if nothing else. Use it as a guiding light in the event that other nights play it out like today, in the name of protecting those who travel in the night. ]

We'd likely cover more ground if we checked the rest of the floor as a pair. In the event there are any further altercations. [ They could more than likely handle themselves on their own, but what they had worked. A beat. ] If you'd like.

[vestments]

( she doesn't question it, doesn't question who khonshu is or what marc means by it, and it's more of a relief than he'd care to put a name to. it's not her words, her 'I see' that puts him at ease, it's the small smile that'd precipitated it. the usual response, the one he'd half-expected in spite of the way he'd answered without self-consciousness, was condescension. disbelief. the distant agreement of sure, pal whilst their assessment of marc moved to 'ah, one of those'.

it's not imperceptible, but it is slight, the way that marc's posture relaxes — the set of his shoulder, the tension in his arms and hands. it's pre-emptive defensiveness, not aggression, that he lets go of, and he looks away from her down the hall first one way, then the other.

the distant flickering green of an emergency exit sign is the closest they've got to light other than whatever filters in through the windows. a stairwell. probably quieter than anything public-facing. the easiest access point. it's only after he's decided on that, that he looks back to lucina. a nod and, ) Fine.

( it's more mild than brusque, almost — almost — conversational agreement. once upon a time, he'd have said he works better alone, but that's never been true. it'd just been a lie he'd tried telling himself to make himself feel better about how he'd ended up alone.

then, seemingly apropos nothing— ) Marc.

( hey, congrats lucina, you're the first person to get marc's first name, not his surname. )

[tolight]

[ It would be hypocritical if she criticized someone's relationship with their deity when she wears a mark of her own. It's less a question of whether Khonshu is a benevolent force or whether Marc's thoughts on them are positive — though if he asked her, she'd probably assume yes to both — but more the joy of recognizing something familiar. She's no zealot, nothing she does is done as an extension of Naga's will, but the act of being chosen does bolster her choices. It's a responsibility as much as it is a path to follow. Finding a kindred spirit, a variation of a large, overarching theme, is nice.

They're also all thoughts she keeps to herself for the time being, neither here or there; they've decided on a course of action that's far more productive than discussing faith or higher powers while standing in a dark hallway. Fine is a good enough answer for her, the reluctance barely giving her pause; she's worked with surlier, and has plenty of 'power of friendship and cooperation' for the both of them.

Besides, he's given her his name. That's pretty neat. ] My name is Lucina. [ She'd shake his hand if they weren't getting ready to move.

Which, speaking of— ] Shall we?

( ooc. HI thank you for the thread it was incredibly fun!! i thiiiink this is a good spot to wrap up if you're okay with it, though if you want to keep going on their adventures / play out an aftermath / what-have-you i'm also down! either way, i hope i get to see you in game in a few weeks and i can gently hassle you for more..!! )