rubycity_ooc | June Test Drive~!

Entry tags:

June Test Drive~!

Thinking of apping a character but not sure they'll fit in the city walls?

Have no fear, a meme for you is here.

Directions:

Post with your character with their name and canon on top!

Choose a location and prompt or wait for someone else to tag.

If you'd like, leave contact info for people to get in contact for plotting and other such shenans.

Tag around! Make friends. Don't be afraid to chat OOC while tagging.

Locations:

1. Train Station: New arrival, or waiting to welcome people? Either way, the train comes in, but you still can't ride it out.

2. Cathedral: Looking for redemption? Just doing a little sight-seeing? Or just getting a little shelter?

3. The Clocktower: You can see the whole city from here!

4. The Black Stallion Saloon: You were told the burgers were great here-- but maybe you just came for the beer.

5. The Library: You came to do a little research, but it looks like all of the information's just out of your reach. Though, you can always find a way to pass the time here.

6. The Coffee Joint: A lovely place to have a chat and a bite to eat.

7. Le Cafe Anglais: A Parisian-British fusion that's as charming as it sounds and serves the best tea around.

Scenarios

1. Just walked in: You intended to get here, and you made your way in; but now someone's caught your eye and you'd like to have a chat.

2. Been here all day: You've been sitting around minding the time. Maybe you didn't notice them at first or maybe you were just working up the courage to talk-- either way, they know you're here and you know it too.

3. Bad weather: You're here because you've gotten rained in. This wasn't your choice, but at least it's dry-- right?

4. Wild card: Got something better in mind? Well screw these prompts, try it out yourself!

Have fun, guys!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Of course." Loki gives a slight bow, eyes sparkling.

His eyebrows rose at the mention of the other Loki, and he wondered just what he had done to 'get along' with Rogers. "Interesting. I don't think he'd hunt me down, of course. He'll leave me alone if I leave him alone and behave myself. That much I'm confident of."

He laughed. "No, no - well, yes, that too - but mostly because you're one of the good ones." His eyes glittered, recognizing what Damian was probably about to say. "Mostly."

"Mostly." He can cede that. "You're not alone in the trying to make a new impression. I may have attempted to kill the previous Robin at one point."

Multiple points.

"Challenged Saber of Red to a fight." A friendly duel. If not bloodless.

"And I tried to stab Rogers when we first met. Todd, too." Well, this list was a little longer than he realized.

"Lured Napier into an ambush at the Police Station." Hm. A lot longer.

"Attacked the local pixie population--"

He shrugs, ultimately regretting none of it. Not a single bit.

"--but, you know, it's a work in progress."

Edited 2014-06-13 17:04 (UTC)

Loki really liked this kid. "I can clearly see why you've been subjected to Captain Rogers' patented Look of Disappointment (tm)."

He made a fist. "Stay the course, young Robin. Don't falter, for all our sakes. There have to be morally grey heroes for us possibly-reformed villains to emulate."

Damian looks at the fist, up at Loki, and then back down, before curling his own hand into a fist and lightly (well, light for him) bumping it, a genuine grin trying to break out of his serious expression.

"I do what I can. Can't let our enemies think the no killing rule includes no hospitalizations. Keeps them on their toes."

And Damian just really, really enjoys violence. And property damage. It's a good night when he gets to wreak havoc and break kneecaps.

He is perfectly at home with morally gray.

Edited 2014-06-14 01:57 (UTC)

Loki didn't even try not to grin. Being here was already a hundred times better than he'd expected. "The world will be a better place for all of it," he chuckled.

"So is there anyone else from your version of Earth, or is it just you?" he asked with innocent curiosity.

"Not many." He shakes his head. "There's a few from similar versions. Static Shock, metahuman superhero. Jack Napier, a Gotham vigilante. Strictly from my Earth? The Riddler - Edward Nygma. He's an ex-rogue, at the moment. Jason Todd, one of my predecessors, and vigilante."

Brother, too, but Damian generally holds that word in reserve.

"And there's my partner, Batman."

At this, he crosses his arms again.

"Not to be messed with. He's different."

He likes you, Loki, but if you harass Grayson in a bad way then he's coming for your kneecaps.

Loki took note of whose true identity Robin concealed and who he gave up, and made a particular note to look up the Riddler. He sounded interesting.

"Well, he's your partner. I'm guessing you're going to be protective of him. Can I have more of a hint, so I know him when I see him?" He smiled and waved a hand. "I'd assume his costume involves bats, but yours doesn't have any bird features I can see, except for the red chest."

"Oh, you'll know him when you hear him." A roll of the eyes follows, hidden by the domino mask but inherent in the way he tips his head as only a pre-teen really can. "He's chatty."

It's amazing how fond he can make pure scorn sound.

"He has a full suit - black, armored, cape, cowl with pointed ears, but during the daytime we prefer civilian wear." Because it's getting stupidly hot and humid. This is Damian's first full summer in this kind of climate, and he hates it. "Then it's just the same mask as mine, only black."

Loki nodded, filing all of that away. "Gotcha. He's off limits."

He cocked his head. "So standing here in the rain is totally fun, but what else is there to do? I know you said no internet, but is there...food, for example?"

He nods, satisfied that Loki's gotten the message. No messing with Grayson.

(What would the man do without him to watch his back, honestly?)

"Not many restaurants, but as far as food goes? The grocery store, the bar, the coffee shop, and the tea shop." The tea shop is wonderful. Damian tries to restrict himself from going too often, because he will readily pair endless refills of their Turkish coffee with the small, powdered pastries, until his nerves are buzzing and his head feels light. "All free. There's not even a bartering system in place."

Endless. Refills.

"The tea shop is good." Casual. Just a suggestion. "If you were hungry. They have sandwiches, pastries - luncheon foods."

"Free?" Loki looked at him with curiosity. "Well, that'll save a bit of arguing." It wasn't as though he ever paid for anything, anyway. But in some ways, that was rather disappointing. It sort of took the fun out of running out on a cheque if there wasn't a cheque.

"Lay on, MacDuff. Show me this tea shop of which you speak."

He can't stop his lips from quirking, wry and pleased. He doesn't even like Shakespeare, but the temptation is too great.

"And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, no more donuts!'?" he quips back. Stepping out into the rain, he flips his hood up, cape flapping behind him as he stalks his way down the street with long strides, used to keeping pace with taller men.

"Most things here that are readily available are free. Housing, food, store-sold goods; magically-replenishing stock, doesn't cost anything. Items outside of that might need to be traded for, or commissioned. Generally, most here will do it as a favor."

Morrigan just gave him all those chocolate mints.

"I hope there's an abundance of bacon in this realm, at least," Loki said, walking along beside Damian, looking around as they went. The rain didn't really bother him, though it did plaster his dark hair down. "Please tell me there's free bacon."

"All the bacon. If you can get it before stock runs out." Bacon didn't last long, around here. "Be prepared for a fight."

It's a good thing he has boots, because his feet are sinking nearly half an inch deep into the mud covering the cobblestone roads.

He points places out as they pass - there, the clocktower, and there, the cathedral, until they come to the main square.

"This is where you'll find most of the shops. Your local Home Depot is over there, this is the grocery store - probably looted of bacon by this time of the week," he adds. "And this, next to it, is the tea shop."

Coffee, coffee, coffee. And none of that bitter, horrible stuff that Grayson drinks. Actual coffee.

"Okay, come early for the bacon. Got it."

Loki wasn't sinking into the mud, oddly. There was a faint magical glow around his soles, courtesy of his seven league boots.

"Hey Robin, how far would you say our destination is, as the crow flies?"

Wow, that's cheating. Damian looks down at Loki's boots, gives a haughty scoff, and continues tromping through the mud.

"From here?" He squints over at where he can see the tea shop on the left side of the plaza, near the river, and pauses to calculate. "To the door, about 199 meters. Give or take."

(A tiny Hawkeye, if he cared at all for long-range weapons like bows. He really only likes to use his estimation skills to point out Red Robin's own shortcomings.)

Loki looked at him, mildly startled, then grinned and held out a hand. "That's accurate enough to give me confidence that this won't screw up too badly. Take my hand if you want to get out of this mud a little faster."

"I don't mind the mud," he grumps, but, after a beat (to make his point known, he is just fine with the mud), reaches out to take Loki's hand without a hint of hesitation.

(Ruby City has taught him many things, but to be properly wary of potential threat or damage to his person has not been one of them. Of course he is invincible.)

"Oh sure, mud is fantastic," Loki replied agreeably, rolling his eyes at the boy's recalcitrance. But as the smaller hand settled into his, he smirked and spoke a phrase in Old Norse, that sparked and fizzled with magic.

They shimmered out of existence, and an instant later found themselves standing - still in mud - but right in front of the tea shop.

"Ah, this looks nice," he said cheerfully, dropping Robin's hand and striding up to the front door.

It's his first time being transported by magic.

On arrival, he is briefly seized by the certainty that if he lets go too soon, he may fall between the cracks in the worlds, or be whisked away elsewhere. It isn't until Loki is the one to release his hand that he starts, realizing that he'd been standing there like an idiot for several seconds, stiff-backed and gripping the teen's hand like a child about to be walked across the street.

Rolling his shoulders in irritation at himself, he follows in Loki's wake, eager to get out of the mud and rain. Inside, with the rainy season, the cafe has a small area set aside for swapping out muddy shoes and jackets for complimentary slippers and towels, and he hangs his cape up, toweling himself as dry as he can until his hair is even more of a curling, spiky mess.

"They use the best ingredients." He's not sure how they get the higher-quality stuff (perhaps the wardens, too, are soft on quality chocolate), but as far as its fare goes, this little tea shop blows everything else the city has to offer right out of the water. Kid is already bee-lining for the open cases of goods; the shop is staffed, but intermittently throughout the day, and most of the time he times his visits for when it's empty.

"I'd almost swear the tea really is from England, and the pastries from France."

Almost.

Loki pretended not to notice Robin's discomfiture. He wouldn't gain anything from pushing the slightly volatile boy away by making fun of him too much - no, being Damian's friend was going to be a lot more useful, and he was still feeling him out, figuring out how far he could push him.

He took off his horns and towelled off his hair, slipping off his shoes as well. He could have used a glamour, but he'd have still been wet and dirty, he just wouldn't have looked it. So his hair was a little mussed - oh well.

He popped the jewellery back on and put on a pair of slippers, then moved to follow Robin.

"I like this place already. What do you recommend?"

He's staring critically at the proffered assortment; this batch has already been picked over a bit, but there's plenty left to choose from. He has to choose carefully. Exercise self-restraint.

Decision made, he gathers a watercress and cucumber sandwich, as well as two vanilla wafer biscuits, loading the small china plate he takes from the stack on the counter. Hardly the most decadent things in the case, bland in comparison. There's a variety of puddings, creations covered in ganache, ornate sandwiches laid out on different breads. Even the croissants are homemade.

"Anything, really. Their rolls are really good - actual crust, with a crunch, none of that spongey stuff that the supermarket dares to call a loaf."

He leaves the case, strolls over to the coffee drum, and, picking the largest of the mugs, pours himself the Turkish option, right up near the brim. No restraint there.

"I used to have to order this in Dari." No cream, no sugar, just the coffee is balanced upon the plate. "There was this vendor, in Tehran, who'd moved from Afghanistan - he was the best, hands down, but if you didn't speak Dari he wouldn't serve you. Very old-fashioned."

Loki grabbed a ganache-covered confection and a far more interesting-looking sandwich involving layers of different kinds of meat. He loved human cooking far more than Asgardian, but he still had a taste for meat.

Then he went over to the coffee carafe and here he copied what Damian had done. "I've never had Turkish coffee," he admitted, brightly. "At least, not that I remember. When I was young and didn't have my memories yet, I was in the same general vicinity of the world, but I was a street rat. No money for good coffee."

"It's meant to be paired with something sweet," he advises, feeling the heat of the mug even through the material of his gloves. "Powdered donuts, wafer sticks. Ever been to Japan? The same idea, with green tea and wagashi."

Something something about harmony and balance, refined palettes, etc. Damian doesn't care; it just tastes good, not bitter like American coffee. There's not enough donuts in the world to make that sludge taste good.

"But it's good without the sweets, too. It's all in how it's prepared." He throws a side-eyed glance at Loki, curious. "You didn't have your memories?"

Loki nodded. He'd been pretty much everywhere, including Japan, and probably had a better idea than Damian about what was up with that.

He settled into a chair and dug enthusiastically into his dessert, pairing the bite with a sip of coffee. The sandwich could wait until after dessert - he was a rebel. "All I know is, it's great."

He shrugged at the question about his memories. "Nope. When I first was reincarnated, I had no idea who I was. My brother Thor tracked me down and reawakened my memories, though I don't remember everything from my previous life even now."

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