Jun. 21st, 2013 09:40 am
alighthouse: (what do?)
[personal profile] alighthouse
[Elizabeth looks a little panicked.]

Mr. Dewitt? Mr. Dewitt??

Where is he?

Has anyone seen Mr. Dewitt? I can't find him anywhere and he won't answer me!
worldentire: (Default)
[personal profile] worldentire
[ the voice message is quick, but he sounds tired and run-down and just a bit cranky. ]

Is there any chance anyone's found a way t'keep these damn creatures from makin' noise? Mine's not exactly the best conversationalist. I'll take a wild guess of "no", but. Better t'ask than assume in this particular situation.

[ the message ends abruptly once some odd noise in the background kicks up. it sounds almost like whale song.. ]
strongeralone: (single mantear; sad)
[personal profile] strongeralone
[The sounds of a room getting violently trashed echo across the corridor of the  fifth floor. John doesn't have too much in his room, but everything that's there MUST SUFFER. 

Because that goddamn thing just won't.shut.up, and even worse - it won't die. He's been cooped up in his room since it emerged, terrified of the prospect of anyone hearing what that thing has to  say, terrified by the sight of those yellow eyes looking calmly back at him from his own face.

The last time his eyes gleamed yellow, his sons almost died. 

And as if things weren't bad enough, the device that's landed somewhat safely on his bed decides that the world needs to be privy to his meltdown, and it needs to see it in full video. From its angle, it catches two sets of legs with some of the torso, identically clad. One is moving almost frantically, and hurls a nightstand against the other; a nightstand that just bounces back and smashes against the wall, as words are continually spoken in an irritating calmness.]

She'll never love you, you know. Neither will they. Nobody loves a broken man, he only gets just enough pets to keep him calm, like an old mutt who won't stop pissing on the carpet.

I told you - 

And one of these days, they're gonna get damn tired of cleanin' that mess up, 

to shut the hell up already!  [a chair goes the same way as the nightstand]

 you know they will. And you know what happens to an old dog who outlives his use. The only decent thing left for you to do is save th- 

[A lamp is thrown and crashes into the device when it boomerangs off the shadow, crashing it to the floor and cutting the feed.

Outside room 112, noises can still be heard.]

no_nonsense: (Med - Tell me this is a joke.)
[personal profile] no_nonsense
[Susan was no stranger to curious, mystical books. She wasn't entirely certain how the one in her hands worked, per say, but she charged ahead anyway. She'd gotten the thing open without incident and, while it was acting a bit suspiciously, it hadn't exploded or given her a migraine, yet.

So, that was somewhat encouraging.]

Seeing as I can't remember how I suddenly found myself wandering a picturesque garden, I can only assume that something magical has happened.

[Although she'd definitely said "magical", something in the way she'd said it made it sound an awful lot like "troublesome".]

Naturally, I would like an explanation but, failing that, I would appreciate it if someone could direct me to the nearest Wizard.
onlythingtofear: (☣ needles)
[personal profile] onlythingtofear
[The view is of a dimly lit tank — not aquarium-sized, but much larger. Its construction is makeshift, but the result is sturdy and perhaps even artful; Doctor Jonathan Crane can do very good work, when he wants to. In it swims a crocodile, a creature he found who has been receiving the very best of care. A syringe-finger-tipped glove scrapes across the surface of the glass.

Slowly, he begins to recite, sing-song, voice distorted unnaturally by his mask. Or is he reciting? Is it reciting if you can't do anything else?]

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale —

How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
With gently smiling jaws!

[Tap, tap. Since the beginning of the event he's been unable to talk in anything but riddles and rhymes. But he's not all that bothered.]
pompous_today: (lol wut)
[personal profile] pompous_today
[There's a very well-dressed young man on the feed, looking a little confused, even though he's had some things explained to him.]

"Wonderland"- it does not seem like a very wonderful place if people are brought here against their will. I would say it's nice to meet all of you, but... well, the circumstances could be better. My name is Simon; for those of you who know River Tam, I am her older brother. I'd like to thank everyone who had shown her kindness thus far, because I know it can't have been easy for her to be separated from me. As much as I dislike the idea of being trapped here, at least we are together, I suppose.

[A pause as he considers what else to say.]

Are we expected to take up employment? I am a doctor, and I would prefer to not remain idle while I am here.
cerebrallydetached: (004  Neurotic to the bone)
[personal profile] cerebrallydetached
Someone thinks they have a sense of humour.

[Why does he have to be in Wonderland again? It’s not his Wonderland, but it’s still undeniably Wonderland so he hates it just as much. He hates Storybrooke, but he would even rather be there. The sheer loneliness and pain from having to watch his daughter from a distance is even better than this. At least there, there is hope. At least there he knows she’s safe.

He’s not always the friendliest of people, and he doesn’t even bother trying to be amicable now that his mood is much more horrid than it usually is. Despite this, he’s desperate and hoping that someone who sees his video feed will have answers for him.]

I’m looking for my daughter, Grace. Does anyone know if she is here? Please.

[Top ten things Jefferson is not 0k with. Guess where this entire thing rates?]
absolutelynot: ({ then I'm back on the street)
[personal profile] absolutelynot
[ talk about a bad day. honestly, helen isn't entirely sure what to make of this, whether it's some lovely trick of the nazis or another abnormal or just her bad day. maybe it's some combination. either way, she is in some strange place -- yet again -- and in possession of some sort of new communicator device the likes of which she's never before seen. she's lucky she can figure out how to work it.

for a moment, she pauses, more to catch her breath and poise than anything else, so that when she finally addresses whoever is in charge, she's calm and collected. as much as she can be after what she's just been through. anyone from earth will more than recognize her very obviously british accent. ]

I don't normally go into something new making demands until I've properly discovered all possible intelligence reports on what I'm about to go into. In fact, I hardly go anywhere without some sort of intelligence. [ even looking for king tut's tomb had been on some intel. granted, it hadn't been much, but some was better than none at all. ] So, I'll give you one chance to tell me as much as you know about where I am before I find my way back to England without your help or permission. I doubt you want to go through that after what happened to your elemental.

For anyone who is listening, my name is Dr. Helen Magnus. [ because that is important in case one of korba's idiots has her somewhere, though why they wouldn't have imprisoned her again, she isn't sure. ] I have something rather important to attend to, so I won't be staying. I do look forward to hearing from you.

Good day. [ though she doesn't particularly sound or look pleased about this. it is, however, the last she will say until someone coughs up an explanation. ]
onlythingtofear: (☣ lurking)
[personal profile] onlythingtofear
[At first, the image is to blurry and dark to make out anything. Metallic clinking can be heard, as well as a few strange hisses. Then the comm is turned, and at least one side of the Scarecrow's face can be seen. Along with those glowing eyes of his, and one needle-tipped hand. He taps the needles gently on the table that he's apparently sitting at, which is apparently made of metal. The only visible source of light is a singular bulb, hanging above him.

Jonathan Crane's found himself a room in the basement, and he's pretty much stayed there. And yes, it got even creepier with his presence.]

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some poison without any bread.
She whipped them all soundly and whump went her head!

[His voice — there's something wrong with it. He sounds too low, too distorted for it to be natural. It's probably some issue with his device. Right? ...right? When he speaks again, it's in a higher tone. But not that much higher.]

This is too relaxed for an asylum. So tell me, are we all mad here?
builditstrong: (the kid)
[personal profile] builditstrong
[It took the Kid awhile to figure out this...whatever it is. Magical communication-y thing. There was nothing like this back in Caelondia. Fortunately magical bullshit tends to be somewhat intuitive.]

[Now here's a kid who ain't got a clue what's going on. His face is half-hidden behind an umbrella and he's not looking straight into the camera; more off to the side, as if he's not sure where to look. And he speaks like he's definitely not used to public speaking.]

...'Preciate a free bed an' all, but I'm confused. Would be fair pleased if someone could explain where I am. Never seen any place like this.

[He rubs the back of his head awkwardly.] M' lookin' for a big 'ol hunk 'o flyin' land, 's called the Bastion. An' any o' the folk who were on it. Mighta, uh...appeared here with me. Name of Zia, Zulf an' Rucks.


LAYOUT BASE @ [community profile] fruitstyle