MARCH 2015

[thecanopycrew]

Uncertain if this is a game for you? Curious to see how your character would act in it? Testing the waters? Then take them on this very first Home Tree Test Drive! directions ❀ Don't forget to read the Introduction , our Rules and the F.A.Q ❀ Post with your character with their name and canon in the subject line. ❀ Use the prompt(s) given here or make up your own! ❀ Both prose and comment spam format are welcome. ❀ Tag around! Make friends. Don't be afraid to discuss OOCly while tagging. ❀ The Test Drive Meme can be used for your application's first person sample. ❀ This meme is is considered as OOC and not part of the game's canon. prompt Welcome to the Faerie Feast! After your have gained your wings, you are met by a feast on the second floor with all that the forest can offer you. Tables and chairs are set up everywhere along the walkway between the houses, allowing the new visitors to meet and greet - or try to hide in the corners and eat berries all by themselves. Try your new wings to be the first to grab those delicious crumbs of walnut bread? Or say hi to your party lights, courtesy of some excited glow worms and flies that just want to be your best friends. Explore how your new gem works, try put your leaf clothes or decide to head further into the tree, seeing just what kind of place your have stumbled into. Maybe you will even get a glimpse of those hairy legs on the fourth floor?

Night Gem Wing Inspiration ❀ Day Gem Wing Inspiration

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Natasha Romanoff | mcu | ota

[dissemblance]

1;

[She adapts quickly. Always has. The wings are new. For the first few hours, apropos of nothing, she wonders if she's hallucinating. Dreaming or drugged, it doesn't much matter. As far as mental attacks go, it's relatively benign. Nothing to do but shrug and carry on. The mind is a maze, and so long as you keep your head in the game you can find your way out of almost anything.

She examines nearly everything she comes across, affecting a keen sense of wonder rather than a spy's wandering eye, though the feast catches her attention for several other reasons besides. She's heard her fair share of tall tales about eating in the underworld or a fairy realm, only to find it's a binding contract that has effectively made you a slave. So while she studies the food, she takes none of it, and to anyone that might happen to come up alongside her,]

I'd watch the pomegranates if I were you.

[Her tone is dry, but there's something of a warning in it as well. Wherever this may be, she's betting on it playing for keeps.]


2;


[The bathhouse is... quaint, she supposes. Everything here runs to the same theme, that of a Paton painting. She hasn't dismissed the possibilities of what this place might be, or mean, but for the time being she has nothing to do but wait, and watch. A spider's greatest virtue is its patience, after all.

For now, she's sitting on the edge of hollowed-out rocks meant to imitate a bathtub, still mostly dressed. Her wings spill onto the ground behind her like a bloody oil slick, though every once in a while she'll stretch them or give them cause to flutter. Join her there?]

(2)

[redactions]

[ So you really do see a bright light when you go - one mystery solved he can't tell anyone else about. The air smells sweet, and faintly of fruit, and there's - bark? This is a tree. ]

[ The next hour, suffice to say, has a lot of cursing and stumbling about in an attempt to get his bearings. A few branches take the brunt of it, but are otherwise undamaged. He's got a heartbeat, and a pair of wings, and he's hungry but the food is suspicious. The ice caked on his fingers gets dusted off, and by the time he reaches the bathhouse he's significantly more composed, but no less unsettled. ]

Mornin'. You just get here too?

[ He gives her a tight smile - hey, she's pretty. ]

[dissemblance]

[He's not quiet.

The Winter Soldier moves with little more than the distilled intent of a killer. Nothing extraneous. No wasted movement, and silent. She has no idea if he could creep up on her or not, and she in no way would want to test that assessment in a practical scenario.

But this man has boots that echo on the floor, and a blue jacket she recognizes from old photographs and filmreels, and a museum exhibit she visited only once. It's the eyes, the hair, the accent (Brooklyn, not a trace of anything Russian) and - the hand, when her gaze falls to it. James Barnes. Threat assessment: unknown. For now.

She's tense, but no more so than your average woman would be at meeting a stranger, and he gets a crooked little smile. She's dressed in the tunic offered, rather than her catsuit. Which, while granting a considerable amount of utility, rather marked her as something other than a civilian. It's tucked into the backpack, folded up and wrapped with a leaf, in the knapsack at her side.]

Yeah. I'm-- kind of just waiting to wake up, you know?

[redactions]

[ Blissfully unaware of her thought process, he enters and sits opposite, on a sturdier branch that fits the wings. He's careful not to move with his back to her, harmless as she looks he's minutely wary of his surroundings. ]

You and me both, sweetheart. [ a beat ] James Barnes.

[dissemblance]

[She flashes him a brief smile at that sweetheart, mostly to hide her discomfort. It's eerie. No doubt the Soldier could be wiped and programmed with any number of extraneous personalities, but seeing him like this--

She wonders, not for the first time, how deep this rabbit hole goes.]

Tatiana Orlova. It's nice to meet you.

[She says it with a faint mispronunciation. Second generation Russian, American citizen. Let him decide what it means.]

Mind if I call you Jim?

[It's interesting, that he doesn't call himself Bucky. It means something, although she's as yet unsure of what.]

[redactions]

Pleasure's all mine, Tatiana.

[ The answering smile is a ghost of rakish, just worn at the edges, though he doesn't seem to notice. Dead's dead. Nothing to be done about here but wait. ]

You can call me whatever you want, long as it ain't Jimmy.

[dissemblance]

[She laughs, light and pleasant. Tatiana has none of the usual ghosts.]

Cross my heart. No Jimmy from me.

[She toes at the water, which is cooler than she likes, and then she glances back up at him.]

Bad form to ask where you're from? Because I was on a subway in the Bronx when I-- before I came here. You think there was an accident?

[redactions]

[ Now the smile reaches his eyes. A New Yorker. ]

Brooklyn, if ya hadn't already guessed. I haven't seen any other folks around.

[dissemblance]

The accent kind of gave it away, yeah.

[A flash of a smile. James Barnes liked baseball, and the rivalry between the Bronx and Brooklyn is a longstanding part of New York history. Conspiratorially,]

Don't worry, I'm not my grandfather. He's still bringing up the Yankees versus the Dodgers like it was yesterday, he'd be threatening you with his walker right about now.

[redactions]

[ He laughs, surprising himself with the intensity of it. ]

The old man'll just have to live with it, sorry t'say. [ a soft, pleased huff ] So what're you workin' as, if you don't mind me asking?

[dissemblance]

Um, right now? Moonlighting as a kidnap victim.

[A little wave, just the tips of her fingers.]

Back in the Bronx, I'm the director of an art gallery. Riverside?

[She says that hopefully, obviously wanting him to have heard of it. It gives the impression she's a lot more freaked out than she seems on the surface.]

[redactions]

[ He frowns. He's familiar with almost all of them, as well as the major supply stores, courtesy growing up with Steve. ]

Sorry, can't say I have. When did it open?

[espigeonage]

[Hello, fellow easily-underestimated spy!

...not that anyone would look at an enormous, cheerful dinosaur-bird-moth and think 'oh, he's an agent', not that he thinks that of her. Her eyes are sharp, but who finding themselves here wouldn't want to watch carefully?]

My thoughts exactly! Though it seems our mysterious hosts could make all this more beguiling. Or, well, show themselves.

[dissemblance]

[It's really a sign of the times that she can look at a giant dinosaur-bird-moth thing, set her jaw carefully to one side and think, I've seen weirder. Tatiana hasn't, of course, and so she jumps - just elegantly enough to suggest that she once did ballet - but doesn't stick the landing, 'stumbling' a bit as she grips onto a stool to keep her balance.]

-- Okay I thought the wings were the weirdest thing I'd seen all day. [That's muttered almost to herself in an undertone, though it gets louder near the end.] But-- um, did you just... talk?

[espigeonage]

[His round black eyes shine innocently.]

Correct! As did you, so we have something in common. Salutations! I'm Yuuya Sakazaki, as new come as you.

[dissemblance]

[She's still affecting an air of shock when she replies,]

Tatiana. Orlova. People call me Tanya. It's... nice to meet you.

[But, as down-to-earth as 'Tatiana' might be, she does adapt quickly, and proceed unabashed. Natasha doesn't think she could play the part of simpering ingenue any longer than absolutely necessary anyway, so--]

-- Guess you're the one we'll all be taking flying lessons from, huh?

[espigeonage]

Tanya! Likewise!

Haha, well. You can see my wings won't be of much use in that department. [Yuuya spreads them. He's still calling them wings, but 'feathered arms' is closer. He has distinct, nimble-looking scaly fingers with small claws.] Still, I've learned before, I will learn again, and perhaps I've an edge. So, certainly, I'd be more than happy to help.

[dissemblance]

[She gestures to the additional, 'proper' wings on his back.]

Guess the aerodynamics would be a bit off. Still, all I've got under my belt is ballet. Swan lake? Nothing like the real thing.

[espigeonage]

[They are the same color as his feathers and fold down tightly, seeming to blend a bit with his back and his big furled fan-shaped tail. He's kind of pleased she noticed.]

Don't discount it! Balance is crucial. If nothing else you'll have an edge landing on your feet.

Swan Lake, though! I'm impressed. I'd ask where you performed but I suspect I wouldn't know. Can I ask what the year is, last you checked?

[dissemblance]

[She laughs.]

Oh, I was never serious enough to actually perform. It's just good exercise.

[And of course a bird with a Japanese name wants to know the year. Makes perfect sense. She gives a tiny shrug.]

2014? I figured it'd be the same for everybody.

[espigeonage]

Even so! It's not something I can do, and it can be useful. Will you be keeping it up here, do you think?

I see. [He almost completely hides surprise - maybe she sees his pupil, barely a shade darker than his iris, dilate and contract, or picks up on the way he seems to get marginally thinner and smoother as his feathers pull closer to his skin for just a moment. 2014? Wow. Wow, that's a long time ago! He's talking to someone born over two hundred years in the past!] Well, I wonder. I don't imagine we're from the same world.

[dissemblance]

[She shrugs.]

I don't see why not. Doesn't look like anyone's in need of someone who runs an art gallery.

[She does watch him, though she pretends not to by taking in their surroundings with a bit of a sigh.]

Makes sense. I mean-- sorry, no offense, but there aren't any talking birds where or when I'm from.

2, because why not

[ex_discrowns53]

[ After several hours of exploring the tree and learning how to use his new silver wings, a bath seems pretty tempting. He finds the bathhouse easily enough, most of his armor already divested and tucked away somewhere close - and safe, entering in just breeches and a tunic.

Well, and the sword. Old habits die hard.

Maedhros eyes the pool intently, then its occupant. Red hair is extremely rare among his people, and most often found in blood relations, so she elicits more interest than might be normal. The seven and a half foot four inch tall elf bows belatedly, a wealth of red hair falling past his waist, and gestures toward the water with his left hand. ]

May I join you, Lady?

[dissemblance]

[She'd caught sight of the elves earlier, across the dining hall. 'Cosplayers', she'd called them then, although even at the time of speaking she'd known better. Though he has little enough in common with the dark elves that Thor went up against alone, she'd be a fool not to notice numerous similarities this man and his companion had with the creatures of myth.

Of course, more often these days she's finding myth is just shorthand for hasn't been around for some time. He doesn't appear to be armed (then again, neither does she at a casual glance) but he moves with a grace she's always found dangerous. Hm.

Regardless, he gets a bright smile, warm and cheerful. If she avoids turning her back on him, one could say it's a subtle show of manners. The query itself elicits the barest of shrugs, rustling her wings.]

Free country. -- Well, this might not actually be a country. Free tree?

[vaccinations]

What's a pomegranate?

{Ellie turns to face the woman behind her. Because she had been just about to reach for something to eat. She didn't trust it. She didn't trust creepy fairies. But she was starving. And the food was starting to just tempt her beyond what she could resist. Besides, starving to death in front of a ton of food would be a really stupid move.]