Feb. 13th, 2017

nonscriptum: why doesn't everyone just drop their sandwich on the floor?! (no! you can do that?!)
[personal profile] nonscriptum
[It had almost been like watching the world move in slow-motion.

Harry Flynn, friend-turned-backstabber slumped against the pillar in the ritual chamber of the great tree of Shambhala, Chloe standing distant and wary for good reason, Elena heroically stepping in to dissuade the villain of his notions of hopelessness. Nate knew better than to bargain with someone who incarcerated him for kicks - he always wondered what Harry had told Chloe when he got back to the boat after the museum lift, if he'd said that Drake had been caught on his own, nobody's fault but his - and Harry has earned distrust. No fucking honor among thieves.

Then he sees the grenade clenched in Flynn's fist, the pin gone and the lever released, Elena is too close and Chloe screams her name just as Nate steps back and the percussive explosion blows him off his feet, hitting the tile with a crack and singing his forearms.
]

-lena, [he wheezes, rolling onto his side as his ears ring, Chloe's voice is muffled in the background like a television on the other side of a wall, it smells like smoke and blood, like he can taste the TNT filler on his tongue. For an instant he can see her body lying prone on the floor in the fog of shattered masonry and debris, panic wells up in Nate's throat like bile because she's dead, oh God, no, no, she can't be, she can't-] Elena!

[And when Nate sits upright so quickly his head spins the haze is gone, the tinnitus persists but the chamber at the heart of the ancient city is no more. He is alone, sprawled on the marble of an enormous entrance hall.]

Are you fucking kidding me?!

[With a groan that belies both extreme pain and extensive experience with being in extreme pain Nate gets to his feet, hoping the opulent space is a figment of his imagination and not a box of six months' worth of memories being dumped on him all at once.]

Fuckin'- goddamn piece of shit-

[Adrenaline high only maintained by a healthy fear for the well-being of someone who isn't even present - and who knows if she is? What if she's not? What if she's - Nate stumbles into the foyer.

She's fine. She has to be. She has to be.
]
beatnomore: (03)
[personal profile] beatnomore
My name is Georgette Marie Meissonier. Buffy to my friends. I'm a licensed fiction blogger with After the End Times. I'm using text format because, frankly, the video quality on the tech here is personally offensive to me and whoever designed all of this needs to sit in a corner and think about what they've done.

But, okay, enough of the tech tangent. For now.


[ She's not done with this subject, Wonderland. Not by a long shot. But she has bigger issues than the abysmal level of tech you're all working with. You'll be hearing more about this in the future. ]

I'm a little uncomfortable with this because facts aren't my wheelhouse. I make things up. On April 17th, 2040 I legally died because of well.. the usual reasons. Viral amplification. I shouldn't be talking. I shouldn't be doing anything.

I've looked at this network and in between being appalled at your complete lack of security I've read up on things. Everything about this reads like bad fiction.



[Private to Georgia and Shaun Mason; Unhackable]

I know you're both here, I looked. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[ action ]

Feb. 13th, 2017 12:09 pm
malkavialogist: (damn it all! now i'm doing it too)
[personal profile] malkavialogist
{ library, night }

[ As darkness spreads and the moon rises, some of you might notice an unfamiliar figure knocking around in the library. It's gothic and jagged tonight, like a cathedral of books.

The person in question is a pale and somewhat careworn-looking man, in bare feet and a dapper nightshirt, with hair that's only barely under control. He's going along the bookcases, cautiously, patting them, cautiously. Now and then he'll mutter aha! and pull a book out, only to push it back in disgust when it doesn't activate the secret switch to make the bookcase roll away.

What, they don't build secret doors like that here? Poppycock.

He breezes past a mirror hung on the wall.

I am not blind, says a voice: a deep, slow voice that reaches his ears and no-one else's. I am not deaf.

Trust that, says another, trust me, you can trust that.

Grout hmms softly, a signal that he's taken... whatever that means on board. It could be literal. It could be metaphor. It could be gibberish. He runs his thumb over a spot on the wallpaper, making sure it's not the light of a spy-hole. He raps the mirror with his knuckles, just in case it's hiding a secret room or something behind it.

But the knocking doesn't sound hollow. He steps back, disappointed. ]


Drat, absolutely nothing.


{ kitchen, night }

[ He finds his way to the kitchen as well, and here it's harder to conduct a search while staying silent. In the dead of night, there's a certain amount of banging involved in opening cupboards and knocking on walls, no matter how careful you're being.

The mansion, he's realising, is huge. Whoever brought him here certainly has resources -- and who? the Anarchs? perhaps; there's a Toreador or two in their ranks who might be tickled by a political kidnapping. He grits his teeth, ducks down and checks inside the unlit fireplace; but there are no pull chains or hidden switches in sight. Not a hunter or the Sabbat; he'd be dead. Although that would explain why the hallways are lined with lit candles -- the Sabbat would be mad enough. A rival in the Camarilla? Several possible names come to mind.

I'm a trap without hinges, key, or lid. The voice is inaudible, but Grout hears it with pure clarity. He straightens up, dusts off his night-gown, and tugs on a wall lamp in case it's a hidden lever. (It's not.)

Yet inside, God forbid. Yet inside, God forbid.

It's good practice not to talk back to his little club of followers and hangers-on; they're secret for a reason. But he's nervous, frustrated, and it helps his concentration to think out loud. ]


A trap without any way in or out isn't a trap. That's absolute consummate nonsense! If I set out a box trap in a field and neglect to add hinge or door, it won't very well catch any rabbits, will it? Every trap has a lid, including this one. Utter nonsense.

[ The voice is obviously trying to tell him something, but what damned unnecessary riddling. No-one who wanted to send a clear message ever wrote poetry! ]

( ooc: hi! grout here is a vampire with various mental abilities -- though to ordinary senses he isn't visibly inhuman -- so if you tag could you take a look at the questions on his permissions post? thanks! )

[01] Video

Feb. 13th, 2017 12:24 pm
notarrowette: (Excuse me)
[personal profile] notarrowette
[Cissie takes her time to get her bearings before she makes her first video post to the network. She appears on screen, looking like any other ordinary blonde haired, blue eyed American teenager. It's an image she intends to maintain, just like she does at home. She holds a hand up in a small wave, offering a tiny smile.]

Hello, Wonderland. Can I call you Wonderland? That's what I hear this place is, and can I just say that I'm kind of seriously regretting never reading those books before? I mean, I'm not the best student in the world, but I do like to know what I'm getting myself into. Not that reading would ever prepare me for getting kidnapped into a children's book, but I don't remember anything about kidnapping anyway, so clearly this is a case of the movie not following the book. ...Where this is the movie, if that wasn't obvious.

[Oh my god stop rambling, Cissie. She looks a litle abashed, blushing faintly. Great, her shot at introducing herself and she's sounding like a complete dork. She clears her throat and continues. Here comes the awkward part.]

Anyway, my name is Cissie King-Jones. I'm from Pennsylvania. You... may have seen me on a Wheaties box? If you're from where I'm from, that is. And if you are, I'd really like to know. And if you're not... it's nice to meet you?

If anyone wants to be kind enough to give me the Cliff Notes version of things, that would be awesome. I guess these kind of 'hey I'm new, what's up with this place' kind of questions probably get old after a while, so if you just want to introduce yourself, that's fine, too.

[Video]

Feb. 13th, 2017 07:02 pm
theothermrgray: (coat and hat)
[personal profile] theothermrgray
[Dorian is in one of the tea rooms, and he has decided to dress in nice morning wear for this video. Everything seems presentable for the video. He clears his throat.]

Good day, everyone. If I haven't gotten my days mixed up, Valentine's day should be tomorrow. Wonderful, isn't it?

[He chuckles a little, as if to offset the horrible worry he has to share.]

I couldn't help but notice, though, how Wonderland seems to give us some horrid event almost every time we attempt to celebrate major holiday. For example, Halloween had the magic candy, and Christmas had the, er, the non-dreams.

So! Do any of you have any idea how to go about Valentine's day trying to avoid whatever this place brings us, or do we just have to play along and hope for the best?
dreamsoftreacle: (In your face)
[personal profile] dreamsoftreacle
[For a rare moment, the Dormouse is actually...awake! He twitches his nose a little too close to the camera, lets out the tiniest sneeze, and backs up a bit.]

Hm...being awake is-- [He yawns.] Overrated. And so many of you were so awake during the holidays. Don't you get tired of it? You waste two-thirds of your life being awake, you know!

[Even this broadcast is too tiring for him. He stumbles over to the teacup, but doesn't quite make it there. Instead, he decides a bread plate is close enough and curls up in a circle in the center of it.]

I'd...highly recommend a nap. Or two. Or twelve. You might...[He yawns one more time and shuts his eyes, snuggling tighter to make himself comfortable] ...learn something in there...

text:

Feb. 13th, 2017 10:29 pm
radiopalkiller: (he never learns)
[personal profile] radiopalkiller
Wonderland's worst feature are its events.

That's a pretty common thought, right? Only this place doesn't usually come up with events on its own. They're all just baggage it dredges up from our own worlds. When you look at it that way you could probably even make a case for Wonderland itself being pretty decent.

So here's a question: You've got the choice, go back to where you left off, or stay in Wonderland for good. Which one do you pick, and why?

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