Feb. 6th, 2017

cloned: (hero)
[personal profile] cloned
Okay, I gotta say, I have a lot of questions.

[Kon's in costume, of course, though considering that's jeans and a Superboy t-shirt, that isn't saying much. This place clearly is a job for Superboy, and being Conner Kent is pretty lame anyway.]

I mean, Wonderland? What? [He waves a hand and shakes his head.]

But... that's not important right now. Because the halls are totally flooded and this is definitely a job for Superboy. Who needs help? I can knock down walls if I need to. Explanations can come once everyone's safe.
battlefront: you'll say (Hope when the moment comes)
[personal profile] battlefront
[Normally Cloud wouldn't object to being stuck in his room for the time being while everything else is going on out there. He's generally holed away most of the time as it is.

But it's different now. There's no way out. Air is getting thin and his only exit is a giant wall of water and he's all the way up on the seventh floor. He could break the wall down, leap out and fall down about seven stories. He's done it before. He's done worse.

But there's something about the rushing water, the feeling of suffocation and darkness that brings back things he shouldn't remember. Tight tube, loud noises, murmuring voices and it keeps jolting. He's losing track of time.

This has already happened. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe he's just so far gone into his own mind that time just ceases to have any sort of meaning and it all falls into a dense, incoherent blur. Marshmallow rustles around in her cage anxiously but it's not Marshmallow right now. It's shuffling through a drawer, needles and scalpels and they're coming for him.

He's suffocating.

Jolt.

He can't breathe.

Jolt.

> NEW GAME
Continue?


Doesn't know just how long he's been crumpled on the floor for now, trying to claw for his phone.]


stop

pp lease stop
quickgenius: (stubborn)
[personal profile] quickgenius
[FORWARD-DATED TO AFTER THE WATERS HAVE RECEDED AND THE DEAD ARE NO LONGER DEAD. Or undead as the case may be.

Waking up, soaking wet and crumpled in the hallway where she’d drowned, the memory of water filling her lungs, panic and fear making it all worse, sharp and jagged in her head, Jesse had gone back to her room, gone somewhere safe and hers, only to find that it was too quiet and slipped into her lab instead. But when she’d gone to write something down, to start work on another project... it had been nonsensical, a mishmash of words with no rhyme or reason. And her stomach had twisted with worry. Which hasn’t gone away.

Because she can’t talk. Can’t write. It’s all fine in her head, but the moment she tries to communicate, to SAY something, or write something, it goes all sideways. If she can manage words at all.

And it’s gotten worse, because something is going on. The flooding is gone but time is repeating. Still repeating, although she’d been more focused on trying to survive during the flooding to pay it much mind, then. Little hops backward in time, reliving the past couple of hours.

When the video feed comes on, she’s in her lab, hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing an oversized S.T.A.R Labs sweatshirt. Behind her is a clearboard covered in nonsensical writing that WAS her attempt to try and figure out what was happening scientifically. Something’s wrong. We’re repeating time.]


Sarcastic warning. Water re-referencing thermometer.

[Damn it. She huffs a frustrated breath. Brow furrowed as she focuses, trying her best to get what she’s thinking, what she WANTS to say, to be the actual words she’s saying.]

The cl-clock isn’t always right.

[Closer, but still not what she’s actually trying to SAY. Frustrated and angry at herself, she spins and sends some of the contents of one of the tables in her lab flying. Papers. Pens. Tools. A few odds and ends. A very familiar sight to a few people in Wonderland, but usually it’s a different Wells doing it.]
realitywarped: (Gesture - You Know)
[personal profile] realitywarped
[He's been here a few hours; enough time to examine the room he finds himself in, a strange mix of rooms he's lived in before, half-Midgard and half-Asgard. Enough time to open the door to a wall of water- and close it again. He'd thought it some kind of extra method of keeping him locked up, honestly, especially after it had also been enough time to try a few ways of getting home... and failing.

Luckily for him, at about the point in time he's considering having to walk through the water- he's too dense to swim easily and even gods need to breathe sometimes- it just seems to drain. He gives it a little longer, but nothing else seems to happen, so he leaves in search of answers. He also finally decides to use the device he's given, at least get some idea if there are other people here to contact. The longer he waits, the weirder the occasional feeling of deja vu gets, as if he's missed something- and he does hate missing things. They always turn out to be the biggest problems.

Still in one of the endless corridors with no markers to give away which floor he's on, he turns the camera on and waves, as calm as he can be, an over-dressed and self-possessed teenager in his full usual green and gold get-up.]


Well, this has been a very interesting day. Would anyone feel inclined to provide some answers? Primarily, is this place always so damp? It must ruin a lot of wardrobes, if it is.

[Well, he'd like all the other more important questions answered too, where why who and how, but he's sure everyone else already asks those anyway.]

Ah- and I suppose secondarily, is there food and is it safe?

[That's all the questions he bother with, though, before he heads off again, looking for his own answers.]
sugarcar: (What're you goin' on about?)
[personal profile] sugarcar
[There's sound coming through, but it's breathing sounds. Very, very relieved-sounding breathing sounds. And then, a few seconds later, a child's voice pipes up.]

Gotta question. Other than th' obvious "What is this place?", why is it floodin' in this place?

[She'd appeared right in the hallway, underwater, and in a panic managed to find herself in an empty bedroom.]

An' where is everyone? What kinda game is this?

[It may not seem obvious at first, but she doesn't even realize she's got the device on, in her panic. She's merely talking to herself.]
catinthemask: (80)
[personal profile] catinthemask
[Forward-dated to when the dead revive.]

[That could have gone better. But now Zacharie knows what death in Wonderland is like, compared to what happened in that white room. One out of five.

Guess it was time to move on.

Or he would if Wonderland hadn't decided to play an additional joke. Zacharie was willing to admit that dying from oxygen starvation had left him more than a little shaken. At least in OFF it was quick. But that was why the NPC hadn't gone on the network immediately, to give himself time to relax and focus his thoughts.

Turns out things didn't settle even if Zacharie did. If he talked to himself it came out garbled and in code. Writing didn't work and Zacharie sincerely hoped that Wonderland wasn't going to make him mime out his items list. He could be considered a comic relief character yes, but Zacharie had his limits.

In addition to this, it seems the Resets were still happening. Zacharie stares at his phone, wondering just how many times he's sent out these texts. But hey, sometimes you just had to roll with it.]


Crush the bones and turn them into fine powder.

This event? Plays love me loves me not with us. Not fun Wonderland. Not Safe.

<>Change Face Graphics: le batteur, 16, Left.
<>Play Sound: ZachMaw
<>Message: How are you all today?

Myself? Tuer, tuer, tuer.

You?


[He knows it won't make much sense. The French might - "Tuer" means kill but the context isn't quite correct. Oh well, someone can probably ask. He'll wait.]
arks: (005)
[personal profile] arks
( it's jay's first day in wonderland, and of course he would end up here when some weird shit is going down in the place. he isn't sure why the hallways are flooded, but he doesn't step foot outside of his room. instead, he goes through previous posts and videos, too used to using videos for information, and he doesn't particularly like what he sees. no one seems happy here, and all it's doing is throwing him back into how he was back home.

it's an uncomfortable reminder. )


Do things like that happen a lot?

( an obvious question to ask perhaps, but it's one he desperately needs answered. if he's gone from one hell to another, he doesn't know if he'll stay sane long enough to see any kind of escape from this place. he's nervous, obvious through the way his eyes shift from one wall to another as if he's searching for something - but whatever it is, isn't there. that's one comfort, at least.

maybe he's wrong, and the flooding was just an accident, but that seems too good to be true. even thinking that just feels as though jay is trying to fool himself into thinking that death was the end, that maybe this would be a better place. of course it isn't. why would jay end up anywhere good?

at least he doesn't have to be on the constant run here, if he even could be. )


Sorry. Why are we here?
drummeintheface: (What you came here for)
[personal profile] drummeintheface
cw: drowning )

---

[Greg wakes up in his room. His first thought is that he's sick, because something feels wrong, and he doesn't remember going to sleep. Usually if that happens it's because he fell asleep in the car on the ride home from Grandma's, or because he had a fever. So he's probably sick.

But slowly, he remembers. He was going to the next room and he was supposed to...tell Wirt he got there, right? Oh no. Wirt's gonna be mad he fell asleep. He better send his message fast.

When Greg peers into the screen, his face is flushed and he's lost his teapot, but he otherwise looks okay. He takes a deep breath, then:]


Dirt! High afraid sit! Army book way?

[He looks a bit sheepish, suddenly. Apologetic.]

Sir my flip slip.
angewiesen: (7)
[personal profile] angewiesen
Too long a stick sat down!

[Jean is frantic. And a little bit damp. When he realized that he was running out of oxygen, he made a desperate attempt to swim somewhere else. The only problem was that he had no idea how to swim. He died in this terrified attempt. It was extremely uneventful, and kinda pathetic. But that's how normal people die.]

[Now, he's dealing with the after-effects.]


A river a thousand paces wide gambles with lives, happiness, and even destiny itself! An old apple would die for a grapefruit! That memory we used to share gambles with lives, happiness, and even destiny itself!

[Each sentence grows increasingly more angry. He slams his communicator to the floor and walks away, muffling his continued nonsense.]

The clear star that is yesterday wanted the TRUTH! A principal idea likes to have a shower in the morning! Fuck!

[Well, that last one came out right. He paces around the room like a bull ready to break out of it's pen, huffing and puffing, then sharply turns and picks up his communicator again. He jabs his finger emphatically at the keyboard.]

The last sentence you saw comes asking for bread! [Jab, jab jab.] Significant understanding would scare any linguist away!

[Heaven help the man, he doesn't know how to type still.]

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