How's My Driving (HMD)

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Post for in-character journal contact and personal action with Fenimore.

Please mark comments with both style and date in the subject line for the sake of organization, as demonstrated in the following examples.

[Voice, July 19]
[Written, December 11]
[Action, August 21]

Thank you for your cooperation!

[ So, Fenimore had spent the last event as a little girl. That had been fine at the time, but, now that the event was over, it had its own issues.

One of them was clothes. Another was pretty much everything else she owned.

Some of her belongings had stayed in the house -- Stella had rescued and retained some outfits, for example -- but, as they lay unclaimed during the event, many eventually disappeared (Shuri and the trash can are particularly suspect in this matter). She had made a brief effort to find particularly important effects, like the locket Shirley had given her -- that disappearance had sent her into a panic until she found it again. But, for the most part, she was too busy sulking to go out into the general social sphere.

Until, well, she woke up one morning to realize that she was down to one clean outfit. One...embarrassing outfit from when she had spent an experiment trying to be a magical girl. (Top and right, respectively, but with added stockings and arm warmers. After all, it was winter at that time.)

Unable to avoid the chore any longer, she can be found in or on her way to either the clothing or item shops, attempting to pretend that there's nothing wrong with this outfit.


She can also be found partway there under a tree, in the same outfit, seemingly attempting to reason with a strange bird sitting on a high branch. It seems that, sometime between her kidnapping and her return after the event, the peepit chick she got for Christmas escaped and has been living the wild life. ] Look, I said I was sorry. Now would you -- ?

[ The bird squawks and turns its back on her. Fenimore huffs as though she suspects the bird to be intelligent enough to understand an apology and reject it, opening her journal, transmitting a request as Voice. ]

Does anyone here speak bird? [Her intended request was for someone who was good at catching birds, but, annoyed, it came out as a more sarcastic one.]

[Other than having the rather entertaining memory of a love-letter mix-up between a couple of her friends associated with it (that had been fun), Valentine's Day doesn't mean anything in particular to Fenimore. So, not having any reason not to do it today, she heads out to investigate around the trees that encroach on the village boarders. She seems to be examining them pretty closely -- at one time, tugging at low-lying branches; at another, squatting at its base; and once actually climbing one.

While one could just ask her what the heck she's up to, a journal entry made when she heads back home gives a pretty good hint as to what she's looking for:]

Does anyone know where I could get firewood? As in regularly? I mean, other than by cutting down trees. That sounds like it's...not really a good idea here. [She's still pretty intimidated by Moro.]

[As usual, first journal comment claimed; action is open for probably pre-evented. Totes open now that she's been Always-In-Loved -- action probably pre-, journal post-.]

[It takes Fenimore some time to reach for her journal after they find Shirley missing. But, eventually, she drags herself over and opens it. It's no small matter for Shirley to have made friends in Luceti -- the girl had spent her first fifteen years friendless. She can't just leave that alone. But, even once she opens it, there's silence for a full minute. When she sighs and begins speaking, her voice is calm, though this is by willpower alone.]

For anyone who cares -- [While it's intended as a general "to who it may concern," the slightly bitter edge that creeps in at the end sounds accusatory. She knows it isn't fair and regrets the unintentional addition, but she has belligerence against the world to spare today. When she continues, her tone is flat again.] ...Shirley has gone...home....

[She trails off. The voice doesn't sound like her own. In fact, the entire entry sounds -- and, by the camera, looks -- as though it were made by someone else. Except for the tone, it sounds as though.... She slowly reaches up to touch a braid hanging from the side of her head.

Shirley's voice continues, quiet and strained:] Oh, that isn't fair.... [Using Shirley's hands, she closes her journal and cuts off the feed.

She doesn't want to meet any of the others like this. Not now. Even though she knows that Stella is out of the house, chances of running into her accidentally seem small enough to risk it. In any case, getting away from the house seems pretty attractive right now. She doesn't have to change, thankfully -- they're close enough in size that her clothes just feel a little loose in places. Though of course, on her way out, she does have to stop to grab some things for the cold weather.

Her intent was to avoid people entirely, but she stops at the river next to house 34, by the bridge. That's where she had found Shirley after Senel had left. Shirley had acted strong, no matter how much it had bothered her. "Acting"...but, if she thought about it, being able to act that strong was strong in itself.

She can be found sitting with her arms around her knees on the bank, north from the bridge and away from the pathway -- this time, it's far too cold to even wade, whether or not ice impedes that. She hopes that she's out of sight, and it might have been hard to accidentally catch sight of her were she not wearing a hat that stood out against the snow.

It's still a stupid hat. It doesn't even keep her ears warm.]

[Backdated to during the day! Comments will be answered by blessingone. Journal comments will be answered with an in-Luceti-time delay and, if she doesn't have anything to say, might not be answered at all (apologies if you get hit with the last one). Action ones she doesn't really have a choice on -- she might be a little unfriendly, but she's not upset enough to cut someone off completely.]

[Action]

[Fenimore has been pretty lucky the past couple of weeks. Despite all of the effects flying around the village, she's stayed entirely normal for the entire experiment. But, on the home stretch, her luck runs out.

On her way back from groceries, she suddenly wobbles and falls over in the village square. She starts to get back up and gather the bags she dropped, looking exactly the same as she always does, but suddenly she freezes. Slowly, she looks down at herself.] Ahh!

[Evidently from her voice and expression, she's surprised about something. Ignoring the groceries, she runs towards the nearest shop window, though it's not exactly the most graceful run ever. She wobbles as if she were drunk and even falls over a second time on the way.

Upon reaching the shop window, she looks at her reflection, apparantly stunned by what she sees, though she looks exactly the same as she always does. The expression changes to one of mild horror as she reaches up and pulls at her face.]

I'm a girl?

["She" buries "her" face in "her" hands, mumbling.] This isn't nearly as funny as when it happened to Sokka. ...Although.... ["She" peeks out from behind her hands.] It looks like I make a pretty cute girl. Hmm. [Sounding a little more optimistic, "she" actually starts to pose for "her" reflection. It seems "she" is forgetting that "she" is in public, though at least all of "her" posturing is pretty innocent.] Not bad. I guess I can live with it for a little while.

...But what's with these things? ["She" gazes at the two protruding "these things" in "her" reflection. Following "her" gaze, "her" hands move to grab them.]

What's up with this hairstyle? ["She" tugs on the two pigtails.] I'd think a female me would have a better sense of style than that. ["She" continues to study "her" reflection with an expression of concentration, not really paying attention to anyone else who might be in the square.]

[Voice]

[Later, a voiced entry pops up from a completely normal-sounding Fenimore. The experiment effect is not obvious.]

How long are these things supposed to last? It's already been a couple of weeks--I don't remember anything going on this long before. How am I supposed to walk anywhere like this?

[OOC: So Fenimore here is under two events at once. The first is an AU event, wherein everyone from her world is the opposite genders, including herself. The second effect is genderswap. So, in summary, "she" looks exactly the same as usual, but all "her" memories are of having been a boy all of her life. "She" may take some convincing that "she" hasn't changed, though.]

( Days earlier, but not many. (Flashbackish, non-interactive unless you're wanting to confront the furfur.)Collapse )

[After a few days of radio journal silence from Fenimore, the journal suddenly clicks on. From the rough, rustling transition to a viewpoint on the ground, it's reasonable to surmise that it clicked on when it was dropped. The strange angle might make it hard to see what's going on, but Fenimore can be seen struggling against a large furfur.

However, rather than attacking her, it seems to be trying to...snuggle against her? This attempt is rather hindered by Fenimore trying to shove the thing away. It seems, like it or not, Fenimore has gained a summon follower.

The journal picks up her voice.] --appreciate you returning my journal, but you can go away now. I mean it. Stop that! Get off me!

[With a particularly strong shove, she manages to temporarily get some space between herself and the furfur and forecloses it coming closer again by putting her foot in its face. It's not likely to last long, balancing on one foot being a less stable position, but it gives her a bit of breathing space.] There! Now, quit it! You're really starting to annoy me.

[Later, she will be attacked by a shiny Magikarp and washed downstream to have to get rescued by Adell. But for now, she's staying at her position by the river near the barracks. Her original intent was to see if she could get some fishing done to replenish food stores before any monsters came by and she had to retreat to the barracks again, but this contemplation has rather been slowed by the approach of the journal-bearing furfur.]

[The post begins with a soft, scarcely audible thump: the falling journal's trip from atop a table was cushioned by landing on something soft. It was still jarring enough to flip it open and begin recording, though. The light is just dim enough that one could probably tell that there is a candle atop the table that Fenimore is trying to steady after she knocked the journal off.

But it's certainly bright enough to see quite clearly that the extended arm is entirely bare. If one pays attention to the edges of the vision the journal offers and the bits of cloth sticking out there, one will note that what provided the soft landing was Fenimore's clothing. But probably the bathtub is the more immediate clue as to what is going on.

Fenimore is as of yet unaware of the sudden potential audience, as she's facing the opposite direction. Luck is somewhat on her side, though, as the journal only picks up her right arm, her right shoulder, and her hair due to the angle, all three quite wet. The latter of the list is undone from its normal style, and the former has a burn near her shoulder--given her complaints about the stove, it seems safe to assume she burned it trying to bend the stove to her will. In any case, it's already well on its way to being healed. Mostly, the journal is picking up the house's bathroom and the occasional bubble that drifts out of the tub. Someone has introduced Fenimore to the concept of bubble baths. Not naming any names, but it was Buffy.

Now that the candle is not in danger of toppling, Fenimore grabs the original target to her reaching before she had bumped the table. She draws her arm back so that it partially rests on the edge of the tub, elbow hanging over the side. As she turns towards it, just a little bit of her face pokes out beyond the hair. She found the object earlier amongst various bath supplies when she went poking around for the bubble bath.

She sighs.]

I wonder what you're supposed to be for?

[Squeak, replies the rubber duck as she gives it an experimental squeeze.]

[Fenimore hasn't been paying attention to the talk of Valentine's day. Not knowing the details, it seemed like that "Christmas" thing that people had suddenly all been talking about not long after she arrived. She might have been a little more interested if she had bothered to find out the details of this one, but it automatically checked the "does not apply" box in her brain.

So she really wasn't expecting anything as she started to leave for a short walk. She had just grabbed her coat when she noticed something lying just inside the door, as if it had been slipped underneath. It seemed to be a letter.

Hanging her coat back up, she scooped up the letter and read the front. "To my beloved."


Obviously this meant she immediately turned it over and opened it up.]

... "My darling.

Ever since my eyes were opened to your strong, loving gaze, I have tried to--"

What the?

[There are stains showing up on the journal. And they're red. Is--is that blood?!

...No, it seems to be strawberry jam. It looks like, sometime after this thread, Fenimore ran out of patience, nicked a couple of not-quite-ready strawberry tarts while Shirley was busy with the next set, and fled.

She settled down in a room in house 34 that hasn't been claimed as a bedroom because her room doesn't have a window and thus would make it particularly awkward if anyone tried to action-post her. However, as she was eating the first of the strawberry tarts, she took a look through her journal. And there did seem to be more people outside their out-of-the-way house than usual....]

[VOICE]

Waf'f guh-un ob? Ai if eh-ee-un 'awk-ib fo ush ob fa urn-uhls?

[Translation to the non-tart-eating populace: "What's going on? Why is everyone talking so much on the journals?"]

[Written/Accidental Voice]

[Fenimore is still not very adept with the journal system, so she spent about ten minutes trying to turn on the voice feature before eventually giving up. Unbenownst to her, though, she actually did turn it on, so the following is a mixture of voice (normal text) and written (italics).]

[sigh] This isn't working. Shirley will know. I'll ask her later. Now where did I...?

[A few moments later, printed words appear. They look pretty unpracticed, being both slow and somewhat messy. Strikes are basically scribbled out, but since she didn't put much effort in people can probably read them with a little effort.] Is there someone named Can I talk to Charlotte, I have something for you.

...Did that work? Hmm. ...Oh, yeah.

I also have If someone lost a hat [There is a pause, with a couple of inkdrops falling on the page.]

[After a moment, she picks up Seles's hat and turns it around in her hands.] What should I call it? I can't say it looks like a pancake....

brown, ridic round hat, I have found it.

...Good enough.

( So, I'll have to teach you what friends are like. You'll like it.Collapse )

Current status: (As of May 26, 2011.)
* Temporary subtitles up. They're mostly terrible. All need work except for Shirley...who has dropped.
* Icons up. Some probably need to be replaced.

Suggestions or requests welcome.