TEST DRIVE MEME

[behind_the_box]

Starting now, we'll put up a new one of these very month! Feel free to use the current setting of Pandora (Christmas in July) or make up your own! You can also use the following scenarios if you'd prefer:

1. Mushroom Kingdom

Have you ever wanted to be a fairy? Well now you are, even if the answer was no! The City is a big, big place, all of a sudden. Houses are roomy affairs inside giant mushrooms, there are colorful flowers everywhere you look, and the animals are always friendly! Unfortunately, the only food items being sold in the market this month are fruit, fruit, and.... more fruit.

2. School Town

You may be too old to attend the academy, but that doesn't seem to matter; your attendance is mandatory anyway. Or perhaps you're there to teach, because you're the only resident of Pandora that possesses a certain skill. It doesn't matter if it can't be learned; you have to come up with a lesson plan anyway. At least the uniforms aren't some god awful color, right?

3. Zombie Apocalypse.

There's no coming back from death in Pandora, so you'd better do all you can to survive. Three quarters of the city are already infected, and this is the last stand. Are you going to pool your resources and try to make it together, or is it time to stop trusting others and go it alone until the month is over?

Comments

Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi | Fate/Zero [AU] | School Town

[tenured]

[He hates it here. Of course he does. There is nothing for him to like about this place. He wants to go home. He misses Paris. He misses his apartment. He misses his school and his lover and his friends and his workshop and even his most infuriating students, the ones how make him want to put his fist through a wall.

At least--"at least" meaning a small step up from excruciating torture--there is something for him to do here, something that he excels at. He is an excellent professor, and he doesn't doubt the superiority of his art history classes. If he buries himself in his work, he might be able to forget this nightmare for a short while. Because burying yourself in your work is always the healthiest response to any problem.

It's with his work in mind that he makes his way across the campus, striding swiftly and purposefully forward, with little thought for anyone who might happen to be in his way.]

[marriedthebloke]

[Sola-ui is one of the people all but shoved aside during his advance.]

Well, excuse me.

[tenured]

[Kayneth pauses. Really, can't people stay out of his way? He's clearly a man with a destination in mind. Can people not see and respect that? He eyes the unfamiliar woman without any real interest in her.]

You're excused. [Excused for her lack of attention, his tone seems to say. He wasn't the one being inattentive, obviously. He's so magnanimous.] In future, please look where you're going.

[marriedthebloke]

...Kayneth?

[For some reason, he's acting a bit snappier than usual.]

Why would you be in such a hurry?

[Such an undignified hurry, at that.]

[tenured]

[That takes him aback, a little.] How do you know my name?

[He's not undignified, he's artistic. His hurrying was completely faultless.]

I happen to have a class to teach.

[Which isn't actually for some time yet, but he'd thought he could get there early and go over his notes or get some sketching done before his students arrived. Productivity is better than dwelling on his miserable situation.]

[marriedthebloke]

I'm your wife!

[Either that or fiancee, but either way, she doesn't seem impressed with the fact that he seems to have forgotten about her.]

[tenured]

My wife?

[Excuse him while he laughs incredulously at this. Is this woman mad? Or is this yet another bizarre aspect of this place? He truly hopes he's not going to be assigned a spouse on top of everything else. That's the last thing he wants.]

You're sorely mistaken, madame. I have never had and never will have a wife.

[You can't tie Kayneth down! (Actually, that's not true at all, but he sometimes likes to pretend that it is.)]

[marriedthebloke]

I believe you are the one mistaken, Kayneth Archibald El Melloi! Has this change to the world done something to your head?

[tenured]

My head is perfectly fine, although I cannot speak for yours.

[El-Melloi? How does she know that name? Just the sound of it puts him on edge and makes his mood worse than it was already.]

My name is Kayneth Archibald, of Paris, Professor of Sculpture at L'École des Beaux-Arts. I fear you must have confused me with someone who would actually marry you.

[shortafewcircuits]

[Waver hates this month, because it reminds her of... well, her schooling. Which she hated. And being under the tutelage of her own father, which she hated. And being in his mere presence, which she never tires of hating.

She's just been given another lecture by him and is moping across the campus to get herself a comfort muffin when she runs into him again --literally, this time-- on the way back. Waver blinks, because there's absolutely no reason for him to be out here while he's supposed to be teaching, and-- wait, why the change of clothes?]

...What are you doing? Don't you have another lecture going on about now?

[Waver is so completely bewildered that she forgets to apologise.]

[tenured]

[His first reaction upon being run into is irritation, as the collision was undoubtedly her fault and in no way his own, because he is a professor and incapable of making mistakes.

But he gets a good look at her, and she seems to be a student. They're always rushing about somewhere without a thought in their undeveloped heads, so it's to be expected--and even if he were going to say something sharp, he's confused enough by the way she addresses him that he doesn't quite know how to respond, so he simply answers her question.]

What I am doing is making my way to the lecture hall, as that is a necessary prerequisite to giving a lecture. [He gestures toward the Fine Arts Department.] It begins in forty-five minutes. Will you be attending?

[He doesn't know all of his students, so perhaps that's how she knows him? Not that that explains why she'd speak to him so familiarly.]

If so, I suggest you not be late.

[He absolutely cannot stand latecomers.]

[shortafewcircuits]

[Waver turns to look in the direction he gestures toward, then looks back at him with her brows furrowed in genuine confusion.]

But I'd just seen you in the lecture hall, you've just finished lecturing the hall at large and myself in particular, and you're next session begins in fifteen minutes.

[It's her turn to gesture, toward the New Age Sciences Department. Which she still thinks is a silly name, for the record.]

And for the record, I'm not ever late.

[tenured]

[Is everyone here mad? He wonders that to himself sometimes. And sometimes he asks it out loud, but for now he keeps it to himself. He regards her warily, looking for more evidence of madness.]

I've just come from home, and this is my first lecture of the day.

There is no reason I would be lecturing in the science department. [He doesn't call it by its full name because he also thinks it's rather silly. Not like Fine Arts: a decent, distinguished name.

As for lecturing you personally, we are not acquainted. I believe you have confused me with someone else. I am Professor Archibald of the Fine Arts Department.

[After a moment's hesitation, he adds:]

I am glad to hear it. Punctuality is a virtue.

[shortafewcircuits]

...Okay, I have to admit this is weirder than insisting I'm a boy and that we aren't related. Either you've bumped your head while changing your clothes, or something very odd is going on. My name is Waver Velvet Archibald El-Melloi, and-- actually, here, look.

[Waver pulls her schedule out of her bag, where her professor's name is clearly listed.]

[tenured]

I assure you, my head is in excellent and uninjured condition. For what possible reason would I insist that you're a boy? [She is fairly obviously a girl... As she gives her name, he glances at her sharply.]

How are you supposed to be related to me?

[He looks down at her schedule with a frown. He's only just begun teaching, and no one has informed him yet of his similarity with another professor at the school. To be fair to the arts faculty, there are a lot of professors.

He's not sure what to make of this at all. He's so bewildered, he doesn't manage to come up with any kind of curt remark, but his frown deepens.]

That's not possible. This person is--me? I dropped the name El-Melloi years ago.

[shortafewcircuits]

I'm your daughter. Well, not your daughter; I'm from a version of events wherein I'm the illegitimate daughter of Lord Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi. The Kayneth I mistook you for is from a variation of events in which he insists we have no relation to each other and I'm male, for some utterly ridiculous reason. I'd guess that you're him and you've finally gone mad, you're him and someone's fuddled your memories, or you're a third Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi because second magic and the universe is just out to make me completely miserable.

[She doesn't even know which of the possibilities she hopes is true. The lattermost is seeming more and more likely, though; the only reason Waver has to doubt it is that she can't recall any two versions of the same person being in Pandora at the same time.]

[tenured]

I am not mad. In fact, I may be the only person here who isn't.

[Now he's not keeping his opinion on the madness of others to himself.]

My daughter. [What.]

Yes, you're certainly not my daughter. I have no children, and I've never seen you before in my life. [And he has no desire ever to have a child. Dealing with students is enough young people for him, forever, thank you very much.]

Please, Kayneth Archibald will do. [That "El-Melloi" added to his name is giving him a headache.] I want nothing more to do with my family or the Association.

If the universe is out to make you completely miserable, you are not alone. This place couldn't be less appealing if it were constantly on fire.

[This latest installment is just an addition to the many reasons he already hates this place.]

Diarmuid Ó Ruadháin (AU Diarmuid ua Duibhne . Fate/Zero)

[otherwise_proven]

[He's meant to to be teaching bare-knuckle boxing, evidently. The floor of his classroom is strewn with sawdust, which is a little old fashioned, but works just fine. Or it would, if he had any students.
After strapping, unstrapping, and re-strapping his hands for the third time in an hour, Diarmuid gives the day up for lost. Feeling more than a little lost himself, he leaves the empty ring behind, heading across campus in no direction in particular. Aimless. He hates feeling aimless.

In Paris, he'd had a job (or two) and a few hobbies, loads of friends and a lover and a flat and even a cat. He's a social being at heart, and he feels the lack of all these things keenly-- though it's the lack of Kayneth he feels most of all, to be sure.

Diarmuid sticks his slightly sticky hands (all that tape) in his pockets and makes his way along the sidewalk without looking where he's going. Which is why he runs right into a man in a hurry, causing the man to go flat on his arse.

For a moment, all he can do is stare.]

Kayneth?

[tenured]

[Kayneth should have been paying better attention, perhaps, but he is a man with important matters on his mind, so when he's suddenly sent sprawling by someone knocking into him, he doesn't feel he is at all to blame.

He moves to gather up his books and sketchbooks, grumbling.]

What kind of idiotic lamebrained oaf doesn't look where they're going--

[Kayneth is not a hypocrite at all.

In the midst of his grousing, he hears that familiar voice speak his name, causing him to freeze, his books forgotten. He blinks, then looks up, his eyes wide. He regards the other man warily, hardly believing what he sees before him. This isn't some kind of cruel trick, is it? There's no telling, with this place. It seems to enjoy taunting him.

Yet there, to all appearances, is Diarmuid, staring down at him, with a familiar look on his face and recognition in his eyes.]

Diarmuid?

[otherwise_proven]

[For just a moment he hadn't been sure of anything-- it Kayneth would know him, it Kayneth was actually Kayneth, if he himself was actually himself, if all this might be just some mad, mutual dream. But his doubt disappears in the space of a few words-- and then he's ostensibly helping Kayneth with his books and papers but really just touching Kayneth with his slightly tacky hands and then he's holding Kayneth fairly tightly and laughing for the sheer joy of it. When he goes to speak, his voice is a bit shaky, but he just doesn't give a damn.]

That's right, I'll be any kind of oaf you say as long as it's really you.
Kayneth. I know I shouldn't be glad you're here, but God, I've missed you.

[tenured]

Well, you are an oaf.

[Kayneth feels he should say something to prevent himself from becoming too emotional as Diarmuid's arms come around him.]

It's fine to be glad I'm here. Humans are inherently selfish. I understand.

[Meaning: I'm glad you're here too, Diarmuid. He slides his arms around Diarmuid, not particularly caring who might be watching.]

How long have you been here? And why wasn't I informed of the fact?

[otherwise_proven]

[All of these things are so ineffably Kayneth-- the joking words that might not sound so joking to anyone else, the demanding questions, the slender arms coming around his back, the touch saying all the things Kayneth wants to but won't in the moment. Diarmuid knows. He knows very well by now.

In spite of the fact of this knowledge, he pulls back just enough to kiss Kayneth on the forehead.]

Yes, I am a terrible selfish oaf-- and lamebrained, too.
It's a good thing one of us is a fine example of a human being.

[He's not ready to let go just yet, so he doesn't. It's been long enough since he had a proper hug-- or a proper anything, really. Of which he's currently feeling the lack quite keenly.]

Oh, I've been here only a little while-- a few days, maybe a week?
I can't think why I haven't seen you, if you've been here all this while. But I can't say why you weren't informed!
I wasn't either. Otherwise, I'd have found you straight away. I'd have liked that much better than sitting in a empty schoolroom, certainly.

[tenured]

I already know that I carry the weight of excellence on my shoulders.

Good, good, so long as we're clear on our respective roles.

[Kayneth is also in no particular hurry to let go, resting his hands on Diarmuid's back, continuing to hold on as his forehead is kissed. He does make the slightest contented noise before carrying on irritably.]

I know why. It's because this place likes to spite me. It exists solely to make me miserable.

[Because it's all about him, obviously.]

You should have found me anyway. [Although he supposes Diarmuid did find him, eventually, so he adds:] Sooner.

[otherwise_proven]

Funny, I thought it was having a go at me, having me coach boxing instead of teach poetry.
[Still smiling, He moves enough to hold Kayneth back at arms length.]

It's good to see your face, even if it is a bit miserable. I'm glad you're all right.
But maybe we should take this somewhere besides the sidewalk-- here--
[Simple enough to put Kayneth back on his feet, to gather up his things while trying not to wrinkle any important-looking papers.]
What are all these for, then?

[tenured]

Boxing? Yes, that's hardly as essential as poetry. Well, there's no accounting for their tastes.

[Kayneth doesn't exactly smile back, yet, but his expression grows less irritable as Diarmuid smiles at him.]

Miserable? There's nothing miserable about my face.

[He allows himself to be helped up without complaint.] I suppose you're right. We should go somewhere else.

[Not that he can immediately think of where to go, as he's too inwardly flustered and distracted by Diarmuid's sudden appearance. He takes his books and papers from Diarmuid as they're offered.]

They're for my class. I'm teaching art history. Not that it makes much sense in this place without any art history, but I've done my best.