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THE MOTHERFUCKING TEST DRIVE MEME RIDES AGAIN.

TEST DRIVE MEME

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[A long, unblinking stare.]

Precisely which green and pleasant land?

["Minute particulars" could mean a lot of things.]

[ hacking a lung up isn't something ruby's done in a good, long while. it hurts like a fucking bitch, and she wheezes a little as she reaches up to rub her sternum, nails digging in and leaving red marks. come out swinging, never let anyone see your belly. ]

Aw, sweetheart. If you wanted to play Saw, all you had to do was ask me. [ she blinks rapidly, clearing the goo out of her eyes. ] The hell is this, futuristic fetish playhouse?

[ welcome to space, ruby. ]

Edited 2013-03-26 02:24 (UTC)

Ah, captain.

[The captain comes out with a self-satisfied little tone that implies the man's presence is an answer in and of itself to the current problem. Naturally something suspicious and mind-boggling was happening to him. Kirk was near by. He steps fully into the room much more at ease than he'd been a moment before, shoulders slumping down into their typical relaxed posture.]

This the future, then? Not near as shiny as I fancied it, I'll confess. Bit on the gooey side, really.

Why, the one that springs up after those dark Satanic Mills have been ground down into dust.

[ clint knows that voice, despite not really being around tony stark much. except that time they saved new york city, and damn if iron man didn't have a mouth on him during an operation. clint's just getting his SHILED uniform jacket zipped up (he needs to send whoever gave him this sweet set up a thank you card) as he turns to face stark. is it really all that surprising he furrows his eyebrows and leans in a little when he sees the eye? ]

Fury insisted I take the spy version. Whoever brought us here definitely didn't get advanced placement.

[ yeah, screw being polite, he's not letting this sly. ] Stark? What the hell happened to your eye?

[ priorities: clint has them. ]

[It is almost involuntary, the way Catelyn steps forward and moves to grip his arm. There's no use fighting it -- the hope flares back up, caution be damned.]

Do you speak true, Jon Snow? [She sucks in a breath, and it almost sounds like a sob.] Bran and Rickon are alive?

[ A tip of the head is sufficient answer enough, for Barsad; he answers with words as well, just to be clear.

One can never be too sure in a different place, and faced with different possible threats. Everyone is a threat until they aren't. ]

You know the way off?

Jon can't be here. He has to stay at the Wall.

[ She focuses on the one aspect of the explanation she can digest. A ship floating through stars is ridiculous. It sounds like one of those stories stupid girls would sigh about. ]

[ Aslan best of all bears knowledge of how vast a world may be. Worlds, interlaced, parallel and weaved. But this was a place too strange - foreign and even disorienting.

The massive lion pads through the hall, steps slow and deliberate and gaze heavy and thoughtful; not the gaze of a mindless beast, but measured. Level yet tense because from the glances he's already caught, his presence has unsettled.

Perhaps he was much more a beast in some eyes; after all, this was not Narnia. ]

[It wasn't what she was expecting- To hear a familiar voice. Not that she'd been paying much attention through the disorientation and alarm of the situation after being released from the pods, but she'd assumed she was alone.

Well, being with a group of equally displaced strangers, was rather the same thing as being alone.

She almost wipes out on the residual water on the floor, in her rush to get to him before he actually leaves and becomes that much harder to find]

Scotty?! [She makes the most dignified entries, even sopping wet, don't even argue. She's thrilled somewhere, in the corners of her expression under all the anger at being dragged here]

I think this goes beyond cruel and unusual punishment. You saw your new decoration, didn't you?

[He takes it and has a drink before hooking it back onto his belt.]

Sounds rough. What planet did you crash on, d'you know?

[She will definitely take that hug, oh yeah.]

I wish Jayne was here. Fella who looks like him, but it ain't the same.

[She tugs the little Serenity out of his hand, glancing it all over. Then points to where the engine would be, and wrinkles her nose a bit.]

That's not right, the couplings're off.

[ No, this place was not like Narnia. Its smells and sounds and sights were nearly enough to make his great mane bristle. Though what unsettled was not so much where he was, as how he got here. Unbidden, against his will. That certainly was enough to unsettle even him.

But it was almost as though he knew she were here, too. Perhaps he felt it, as he did in Narnia, and there was no other explanation that could be given.

His paws a soft scrape against the metal, he albeit rumbles behind her. ] Hello, little one.

But what do they do?

[...and to add to the list of questions: why does he talk to the droids like they're pets?]

[Here, Scotty, have a cheerful mechanic - though maybe not as cheerful as she might be on her own home turf.]

Don't think you did anything wrong. Somebody's pullin' folks from all over.

[She falls silent as she looks at him, and it's like being in the eye of a hurricane. He's someone who can actually survive the storm though. Even better, he can quell it.]

Fine.

[See? She's not completely beyond reason.]

But if I had my powers? And my hounds? I'd just turn the men into stags and we'd have a hunt on board this quaint little ship. Just like old times.

[Okay, maybe still just a little beyond reason.]

Where did you find your clothes?

Edited 2013-03-26 03:18 (UTC)

[he's not really the hugging sort, but this seems like the exception to the rule sort of moment, so he's only slightly awkward when Jo pulls away, running a hand through what remains of his hair before replacing his ball cap and giving a proper look around]

So this ain't some trickster's idea of a good time then?

I don't know, I think they're doing a pretty good job of it.

[ the voice coming from behind clint, which should sound familiar, is just as dry as his, and the person it belongs to is leaning against the opposite row with her arms crossed, waiting for him to turn around. when he does, she straightens and comes close enough for them to keep their voices low when they talk. ]

Hello, Clint.

[ welcome back. ]

[where do you think they get it from]

Looks to me like a whole lot of crap that I don't want to wade through. I figure we find whatever's at the heart of it - trickster, alien, I don't care - we stake it through the heart and get back where we belong.

Am I that predictable?

[The moment of owlish, blinking surprise at being answered, by his own name no less, is instantly replaced with a small huff of relief at the familiar voice. And sight. The what-might-just-be-if-he-squinted-at-it eagerness to see him was a touch new, but it would be a bleak day indeed when Montgomery Scott would complain about that. Particularly coming from such a lass.

His relived smile fades somewhat as she moves past his name, however, and gets to the brass tacks. His brows knit together until...ah. Right. He pulls back his still sticky sleeve, showing off his new numbering system.]

Oh, aye. That. I can honestly say it's my first venture into inebriated skin markings, no matter what you may have heard tell at the Academy pub. But seeing how I doubt you're the type, I'll be taking it there's a shadier game afoot.

This ship pulls us away from everything. We haven't a choice.

[He touches his fingertips against his knee, tugging gently at the rough fabric of the jumpsuit. He still wears his cloak from home, trimmed with fur, but it is getting to be too short. Soon he will have outgrown it. Perhaps he is as big as Arya now. If she were standing, would they be of height?]

But time at home does not move. It's like a story. Everything stands still. When we return, it will be as if we never left. So no one will know that Jon has been here.

[ He takes her words in stride, the fact that she was here before unsettles him more than the change in scenery, and Bruce's next steps become uncertain, confused almost in a way that makes him second guess what he ought to be doing. Running a hand through his hair, he winces at the brush of junk, wringing his hands to try and get rid of it. ]

Guess I can skip that question. [ how long does it take to get over that feeling of grossness, that he's ill and his body has every intention of reacting against him and all the other questions that most guys don't need to deal with. Guys that don't have the hulk inside of them. Bruce smiles uncertainly, looking around. ]

So this is all... kinda like Star Trek or something. [ Or just as bad. ] Definitely not SHIELD's by the look of it? [ He's guessing, but it's not a random one either; there's no familiar brands, no Nick Fury shouting orders or guards at the door. ]

[ it's been a while since sulu's gotten a familiar face. if he's honest, he's almost given up on it. the ship brings in new arrivals by the boatload, but there's never anyone from the enterprise. and it's not--it's not a bad thing, because sulu knows he shouldn't be hoping for anyone else to get stuck here. but it's lonesome sometimes, being one of three.

which is partially why sulu comes skidding around the corner at that, hair in disarray, uniform shirt sticking to wet skin. his hair's too long, much longer than an officer's hair should be, and he's thinner, harder around the edges, all sharp angles and lean muscles and he nearly skids into scotty before he catches hold of the doorframe and stops himself bowling them over. ]

Is it really you?

[ which it is, because it can't possibly be anyone else, but it's best to check these things before making assumptions. ]

[ It's kind of a good thing that Natasha's already offered him a spare towel, cause next to Tony Stark, fully dressed as he is, Bruce isn't looking all that spectacular in the first place. But none of that quite matters as he sees -- finally sees a guy that he doesn't have to be too formal with, because Bruce can relax just a little bit. Tony Stark is that kind of person, a relief, a sight for sore eyes, whatever the hell bit of relief Bruce can exhibit in a single breath and eyes that go slightly wide when he catches sight of him.

There is of course that eye that raises questions, but he knows better than to point and ask. ]

Natasha already offered, Mr. Stark. [ He's just as polite back, but it's really Bruce's finely honed self control keeping him from even collapsing at the reality of the situation. Gotta keep sane first and foremost. ]

But I wouldn't say no to an offer of clothes.

[ Which seemed to be a near constant running thing with him lately, constantly needing shirts and slacks that wouldn't cost him a million bucks. ]

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