Entry tags:

tdm 20

test drive meme

Ingress travel can be disorienting. Your trip? More than most. Your body may experience several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. A voice, just out of hearing, calling a name you think is yours. You may have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. You catch a glimpse of a space filled with a soft cerulean light, a feeling of dankness despite the glow around you. Regardless of your current state, however, the stress of initial Ingress travel forces your body into unconsciousness.

Waking up is another story. Or is it?

Certainly, it's not where you are now.

sleep, perchance to...

You're dreaming.

You have to be. Certainly, you don't remember arriving in this strange, dim forest of your own accord. Gnarled trees form a solid barrier and a thin cage blocking the sky, silvery light illuminating the ground below in patchwork on all sides. The path beneath you seems to stretch out ahead and back for an eternity, though a light (an exit?) can be seen in the distance. Movement too, down the myriad array of branching side roads.

If you hurry, you can catch up.

* Take the Path:

No matter how quickly you travel, you won't ever reach that glow of light on the horizon. You may, however, encounter other walkers in the night. Friends, foes, strangers. Whoever is sharing your dreaming vigil, you might be grateful for the company. Certainly it's better than the feeling you get traveling alone: a prickle of paranoia and the sense that something just past view is watching.

* Less Traveled By:

The roads lead nowhere. The prickle at the back of your neck hasn't ceased. They're out there; they're watching you, and it's infuriating. But you can stop them. You can break free of it all.

The trees are firm and unyielding, but eventually, your efforts force them to give way. Through cut limbs and snapped branches, magic or agility or sheer, brute strength, you make a hole large enough to crawl through. And just as quickly, you realize your mistake.

The trees aren't there to keep you in.

Inky darkness roils from the gap between the paths, looking to devour you. If you run, it follows. If you hide, it seeks. It calls in voices only you can hear: your friends and your tormentors, the cries of everyone you've left behind. Find help to face your nightmares, or be consumed by them.

* All the Difference:

The light in the distance might still be out of reach, but through long searching, you've found a different sort of exit. Fog chokes off this opening between the trees, thick and obscuring. One step into the mist, and you lose all sight of anything outside it.

Two steps? Three? Ten? You're not sure how many it took before the world around you began to change. Perhaps you've found yourself in someone's worst moments. Perhaps you've landed in a fantasy. Perhaps this is your dream, with a stranger's face or voice intruding. Either way, you'll have to work together to get out.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFO

FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION

For mature or graphic content, please label.For questions, please direct them to the FAQ or the Feedback page.

Please Note: due to the chaotic nature of upcoming events, players who intend to preserve their threads for game use should not assume they were given the usual introduction to Thisavrou at the Ingress Complex. The above scenarios are, however, valid as game canon.

As always, be kind and have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

     That's not exactly the sort of thing one expects to hear from someone potentially lying in wait. Alfor pauses, having brought his own blade out of reflex, stepping no further through his makeshift archway.

     "One should be more careful in general, stalking someone who's armed, hm?" he counters, brow raised. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that the lad was meaning to take him on barehanded. ...wait.

     The Altean's eyes widen as he finally allows himself a clearer look at his supposed opponent. "That armor..." he murmurs, and then suddenly his blade is brought up anew, in a stance so very similar to another certain paladin. "Who are you and where did you gain possession of that armor?"

The defensive stance turns to him raising his hands. What he hopes is a fairly universal gesture for surrender, or at least, not wanting to fight. And he doesn't, if this person is talking, is sentient and...

And that's... an Altean face.

It's not as worn as the last time he'd "seen" it. If anything, it looks closer to his age, or Allura's, or even Coran. But -- it's also way, way too similar to Allura's. That realization is enough to make his blood run cold.

If he were the kind of guy to swear, this would be the point where his inner monologue would immediately cry holy shit.

"I didn't know you were there --" The moment is over. Because of course, if this is who he's suspecting it is, of course the armor is recognizable. "You're not going to believe me when I tell you. But -- My name is Shiro. And I was given this armor by Princess Allura."

There's no way this is going to go well.

     The gesture is clear, but Shiro will have to excuse Alfor for not immediately following suit. At the very least, he doesn't seem so intent on striking the paladin down where he stands.

     Of course, that's only due to the ridiculousness of Shiro's claim. The Altean blinks, then barks out a laugh.

     "You're right. I don't believe you. Allura wouldn't be able to do such a thing. Why, she can barely even speak!"

     Yet, even with these words, there's some definite hesitation in his manner. The name given means nothing to him, and his ears seem to have been mutilated at birth, the poor lad.

     "I suggest you speak the truth, for I hardly believe that the the owner of that armor would have relinquished it so readily."

Of course she can't... his inner monologue groans.

He keeps his hands raised. Holds still. If nothing else, it's going to make it fairly clear he has no intention of attacking. He'd back up, if he thought that would help, rather than make it look like he was trying to run.

"I believe you," he says, instead of anything else. There's no reason not to. "But listen... you've been taken to a world where... time doesn't make any sense. People from the past and future get mixed up. The device they use, the Ingress, it's some kind of wormhole."

Hopefully that makes sense. He knows absolutely nothing about this man, other than he's the one responsible for Voltron in the first place. That Allura loves and reveres him. And... he's also supposed to be dead.

"I don't know how it ended up in the Castle. Your castle. But I swear to you it was given to me." He lifts his chin, to look him in the eye. "Your daughter gave it to me, and the other armors to my teammates."

     His brow furrowing, Alfor doesn't seem to look any more or less convinced, but he is listening. What this Shiro-fellow speaks of sounds incredulous, and yet Alfor can't quite deny the possibility. There's a giant rift in his old friend and comrade's planet potentially leading to another reality, after all. And the existence of wormholes or the like isn't exactly something new nor unheard of.

     But there's something more to this story. This man has mentioned something about time, mixed up pasts and futures. If Allura had been capable of giving him the armor, a whole new team, their armor...

     The realization of possibilities ease away the suspicion little by little, however only being replaced with something more closer to confusion and uncertainty. Very slowly, the King of Altea lowers his blade.

     "You know who I am, then. ...and you must realize the questions that must arise from such things as you say. Whether I should ask them or not is something I'm not certain I should."

The blade lowers, and so do his hands. In a long, slow exhale.

"You're King Alfor. Of Altea."

An easy answer. Probably the only one there is. Maybe the others know more, they're "ahead" of him, after all. He nods, no satisfaction on his face. Just resignation.

"You can, but I don't know how many I can answer. Or if now is the best time." The last is said with a careful glance around, meaning their current surroundings. If they can find the Ingress again, the territory will at least be more friendly.

And then he adds, in an effort to at least ease the tension: "Allura's all right. She's... doing incredible things."

     A nod is given at that in confirmation, even if it's already been as good as assumed. Alfor sighs, the weight of the things Shiro has cared to inform him with already heavy.

     "I think I'll spare us both the trouble, then." 'For now' is implied, but even that's a hesitant thing. Looking around as well, he slowly nods. "I don't suppose you know where this is, or...how we got here." Because he sure doesn't.

     Hearing about Allura does indeed give him cause for some ease, and he allows for a flicker of a smile as he glances back at Shiro. "I am pleased to hear it. ...thank you."

"Sometimes the Ingress opens up new worlds. It dumps whoever it pulls into them, instead of the place the rest of us are." This, at least, he can explain easily enough. It's something he's learned rapidly, lived with for almost a year now. "No one seems to have any kind of control over it."

He shifts to one side, to indicate he's about to move as they speak. Better to try and get the freaking King of Altea along. Maybe back to the Ingress itself.

"One of my team has been studying it, but they won't let her get close enough anymore to get real results."

The slight smile is encouraging. "It's nothing. She's important to all of us."

     It's a warming feeling to hear that his beloved daughter has touched the lives of others in such a way.

     The explanation regarding how they've come to be in such a place isn't really a reassuring one. "So you're saying that it's basically a one-way trip..." That's certainly troubling to consider, and although it's all too easy to react with that desperation of one who needs to get back to the things left behind, Alfor must remind himself that he isn't the first nor the only one.

     Almost distractedly he nods, starting along once Shiro does so. The alternatives don't look very promising, anyway, and despite what he's been told and the warring feelings besides, at least this person is a link to some familiarity. And if his daughter has seen it fit to name him the black paladin, then so be it.

     "And yet you say that no one knows how to control it? That sounds counterproductive..." He can't help but comment such, being of a scientific mind, himself.

"So far. At least, in terms of being able to predict who turns up, and when."

If they could, they'd have been able to get home by now, right? Or pulled the Lions here, or something. Or pulled Pidge's family. Or trapped Zarkon here and been done with it. They could have done more.

It's sort of weird, walking alongside the guy like this. Alongside someone he never thought he'd actually meet. Whose AI basically tried to kill them.

Something he is not bringing up.

"The Savrii say they can. But whether or not that's true? We don't know. They're keeping it locked up lately."

     Having someone inform you that your metaphysical copy was corrupted and nearly sent everyone into a super nova isn't particularly something anyone might ever anticipate hearing. Just as well that Shiro decides not to share that particular bit of history.

     Alfor shakes his head. "Now that just sound suspicious. And what's to be gained from not telling people the truth of the matter? Unless perhaps they have ulterior motives, or they fear action taken against them. To be fair, the latter would only have more potential occurrence or the lack of information given." It's a frustrating quandary that he has little else to go by, and yet he feels is points fair for what Shiro's told him.

     "Are there a great many that have been brought through this...Ingress?"

"It's probably all of the above. They're not big fans of the people they pull here."

And yes, he is aware of how that sounds. How unfair it all is. Because they had no say in the matter, and yet, here they are. Getting blamed for everything that goes wrong anyway.

"So we can't help them, either." They're locking out two of the smartest people he knows, after all.

He steps ahead a bit, lifting his hand -- purple light flickering along the dimmer portion of the path, looking for anything in their way. Seeing nothing, he keeps going forward. "More than fifty of us. Probably closer to a hundred."

     "As though it were those people to begin with." Alfor snorts, annoyed at the nonsense for such reasoning. Perhaps there's more to it, but thus far these Savrii haven't made a very promising first impression on him.

     "...that's unfortunate. So then we're left at an impasse. I can't say that's a good position for anyone." Things have the tendency to get very ugly in that sort of situation, and it doesn't matter which side might tip the scales first.

     His pale eyes are drawn to the glow of Shiro's hand as he uses it as a torch. There's something about it that tickles familiarity. He seems to think better of asking directly. "...that many? My word..." It's not so negligible a population, especially to be made up of strangers not local to wherever it is that this Savrii world is. And all the more reason for cause of civil unrest...

     Alfor sighs at the very thought. It might be too early for him to be weighing these concerns, but he can't help it, especially not now that he's unwittingly been drawn into things.

"No, it's not. The natives are ... less than thrilled we're even here at all. They don't want to listen." They don't want to listen to how they didn't choose this, or how half of what's going on isn't even their fault to begin with.

Alfor hits the nail on the head. Too many people, a bad situation. No one's going to come out of it all right. But there's... there isn't much they can do about it right now.

He's glad there's no questions for now. Or he would be, if he realized. Sometimes, using it is second nature. And he's not sure how he feels about it.

"Sorry it's this situation, but..." He hesitates, then launches into it. "It's good to actually meet you."

     There's nothing more to be said that would make any difference for the situation, save perhaps to only stoke the flames. That won't help anyone, Alfor knows, and so he lets questions and comments lapse.

     His smile is a weary one, however no less sincere for it. It's true, the situation is, to put it bluntly, a lousy one, but neither of them had chosen it.

     "...your words are both kind and bear the weight of so much more not yet said nor explained," he replies, his smile quirking just slightly on one end. "But I trust Allura has an excellent sense of judgment, especially for those whom she's surrounded herself with." He hopes so, at least. It's not like he can tell that at the age he knows his darling daughter to be. Hopefully she's just like him in that regard.... ...all right, perhaps it might be better if she took after her mother in that.

"Yeah... I know."

It's hard not to explain, really. He'd said to Lance, when that "ice breaking" question thing happened -- the person he'd like to meet, to talk to, most is the man pacing along beside him. He just never thought it would actually happen.

"But you're right. She absolutely does. We're all better off for her being there."

Just not going to mention the Lance Flirtation Action. That's probably best left unsaid.

Forever.

     It's obvious there's something Shiro's keeping back from him, and Alfor can tell he's reluctant to get any further into it.

     The paladin's agreement at least pleases him. He's glad to hear that his daughter seems to be held in such high esteem. Perhaps she's found for herself a band of close comrades such as he had.

     "Is...she here? And your other team members?" What Shiro had mentioned earlier indicated that at least one other was present. The thought hasn't occurred to him yet that his daughter might draw some unwanted attention, but then he hasn't considered just how much older she might be, either. One heart attack at a time, please.

"They're here. All of them."

There's relief and resignation both in that statement. He knows it's selfish to be glad they're here. Selfish to be relieved to see them all again, to know they're not out of reach. But it's a human emotion, isn't it? Wanting the familiar.

He glances at the freaking King of Altea (and how long is his brain going to phrase it that way, he wonders). "Coran was here too. For a while," he adds. "But somehow, he managed to get back. He's been with her since we all met."

     Alfor can understand the feeling behind that response, and would hardly fault Shiro for it. He'd argue that the emotion isn't purely human. ...whatever that is.

     He can be happy for Shiro then, and it's exactly that sentiment that shows in the small smile that touches his face. "I see," he says, although the following mention does have him blink a moment. "Coran as well? Well, I am glad to know that he has been by her side, current circumstances notwithstanding." A shame he'd gone, for Alfor knows no other capable of lightening moods, but if he's gone home, then all the better. Maybe they would all follow suite.

     Then again, matters might not be so simple as that, even outside of their current circumstances. And it's so very hard not to ask pertinent questions regarding the place they should be than the place that they are. Small talk. Small talk is a difficult thing to come up with, and the awkward silence that lapses after his last words just seems to be all the more prominent as the Altean king tries to come up with something.

This is... awkward.

To say the least. They're traveling in an alien world, and as much as he wants to just spill out everything, this really isn't the time. Or place. If they got too into discussing things, something could easily attack them both. And then where would they be?

Also, the subject of whose armor he's got on.

It's like being on a long car trip with a live grenade. Or so it feels like.

"Get the feeling we're being followed? Or is that just me?"

Because that's clearly a better thing to talk about than anything else running through his head.

     That instantly gets Alfor's attention, his earlier attempts to come up with conversational subjects easily slipping from his thoughts as he looks first at Shiro, and then around them, suddenly more cautious. "...I'd had that sense that something was watching me ever since I'd been wandering these paths," he admits.

     ...which was why he'd plowed through the nearest treeline with his sword. But now that he's not completely distracted by the things this young man with the funny ears has informed him, he can once feel those eyes unseen, yet definitely watching him. Alfor's hand grips his weapon tighter, attempting to make out anything in the shadows of the trees around them, casting a look over his shoulder.

     "...whatever it is, they keep out of sight. Not out in the open, but I'm almost certain something's been flanking us."

"At one point, someone was." Him, it was him.

Please excuse him if it comes out drier than plain toast. But that's what you get for bursting through the bushes at him. Not important now, though. Because the feeling of eyes is like fingers up the back of his neck. He's unconsciously taking a step back, back and to the side.

Putting his back to the king's, fingers igniting in purple light.

"Up for a little more tree trimming?"

     And you wonder you almost got skewered, Shiro.

     Alfor's turned as well, bringing his sword up, catching a glimpse of Shiro's glowing hand out of the corner of his eye. Even though he can't be seen for the position they take, the grin is evident in his voice.

     "I think I might be. The scenery's been incredibly dull, what with trees, trees and more trees."

Would he have? Or was the armor durable enough? Things he probably should have asked when they all first took on this job. Oh well. He wasn't skewered, no harm done.

But it's in that moment, that grin and that quip, he can't help but really like Alfor. He can't help the grin of his own, either.

"Then let's hope this works."

Time to scythe his hand forward, to cut through the nearest thicket of trees like it was actually a blade, instead of the flat of his palm.

The trees had taken some work to get through, but Alfor figures that whatever lurked beyond would either be frightened off, or ultimately revealed. And either works for him, as it's always easier to attack an enemy you could identify.

The moment he feels Shiro shift into action, the Altean king does likewise, swinging his white blade in a broad arc at the branches, hoping that its edge won't be dulled too much for its use being reduced to amateur gardening.

tdm 20

test drive meme

sleep, perchance to...

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