Test Drive Meme!

[paradisamods]

TEST DRIVE MEME Welcome to the Test Drive Meme! Whether you're considering joining paradisa for the first time or you just want to test out a new muse, this is the place to do it. Only character journals allowed, please! Feel free to have your character roam any of the castle's rooms, grounds locations, or City Royale. Thanks for your interest, and have fun! Premise: You wake up in a giant, magical castle. Everything is beautiful and the castle grants material wishes. It also provides a magic journal to every resident that allows everyone to communicate with each other like a two-way radio.

Comments

[anothershirtruined]

I generally find that the tip of s sturdy parasol, applied firmly, is the most direct way of gaining anyone's attention.

[The small dark haired woman in turn of the century clothing frowns at him.]

As for I wished to gain your intention, I wish to know my location. I had intended to spend the day in Luxor. And it is really a terrible inconvenience to suddenly find myself somewhere entirely different. I am not accustomed to being inconvenienced.

[toobravehearted]

I disagree, manners go a long way and poke me again you shall lose said parasol.

[Don't they make a pair, his clothing is also turn on the century. Ah, but oh dear, she's new.]

My dear Madam, I'm sorry to say you may have to become used to being inconvenienced. Welcome to Paradisa. Definitely not Luxor as you'd intended.

[anothershirtruined]

Mrs. Emerson, if you please. I am Amelia Peabody Emerson.

And what is this Paradisa. Certainly no part of Egypt I have ever heard of. I am quite certain no self respecting Egyptian hotel would indulge in this much gaudery. That is the domain of the European taste.

[toobravehearted]

Of course you are. It is... nice to meet you Mrs. Emerson. I'm the Doctor. Paradisa is where you are standing. The castle, the city, the continent and no part of Earth I'm afraid, let alone Egypt. [He looks her up and down.] What year are you from? Victorian, Edwardian eras?

[anothershirtruined]

Egypt. The Year of Our Lord 1903.

A doctor of what, sir?

Don't be ridiculous. If this is not Earth when what in the heavens is it supposed to be?

[toobravehearted]

1903. My, just look at that. Your people had such a fascination with all things Ancient Egypt at the time. I went to a mummy-unwrapping party once, 1896. Morbid and unsettling, actually.

Sorry, don't mind me, no, definitely not Earth and definitely not heaven, either. It is a pocket dimension, the best I can put in plainly, simply and in broadest terms for you. But I think you're not going to believe me, correct?

[anothershirtruined]

Sensationalism is a common pastime of the weak-minded, I find. Dreadful nuisance most of the time. Boorish English and American tourists are always finding their way into my dear husband's sites. He does enjoy complaining about them.

[Not that Amelia minded. She relished a good argument, and Emerson was always at his best when riled up about senseless tourists.]

Not in the least. I have never heard of such a thing!

[toobravehearted]

Sites? Oh, he's an archaeologist! Dear Mr's Emerson, if you think the sensationalism is common in 1903, wait until you see 1922. [He's grinning. Widely.]

I see. If you've never heard of it, it doesn't exist? Regrettably, it does, and here is where you find yourself.

[anothershirtruined]

He is an Egyptologist, sir. Radcliff Emerson, the greatest Egyptologist of the age.

[Amelia's husband happened to have a very low opinion of most egyptologists. Petrie had a few good ideas, but most of the rest were little more than treasure hunters. No sense of scientific inquiry at all.

It was an opinion Amelia shared.]

And I will beg you to speak sense, sir. I have very little patience for nonsense.